little-jana

[little-jana]

"Morning Flusters"

Pairing: Spencer Reid x f!reader

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: early seasons Spencer, early relationship awkwardness, Spencer being flustered, mentions of a boner (not sexual), morning wood

Words: 1k

Summary: Waking up tangled together for the first time was sweet—until you felt something unexpected.

The warmth you felt was comfortable.

It was the kind of cozy, sleep-heavy warmth that made you want to burrow deeper into the blankets and never move again. The kind of warmth that only came from waking up next to someone else—him.

Spencer.

The realization sent a flutter through your chest. It was the first time you had stayed over, and despite your nerves the night before, everything had gone… perfectly. He had been an absolute gentleman, offering you his comfiest pajamas, making sure you had an extra pillow, and even stammering through an offer to sleep on the couch if you weren’t comfortable sharing the bed.

Of course, you had wanted to sleep beside him.

And now, here you were, tangled up together in the soft morning light filtering through his apartment window.

You shifted slightly, stretching, only to realize just how tangled you were. Spencer’s arm was draped over your waist, his face buried in the crook of your neck. His breath was warm against your skin, slow and steady in sleep. One of your legs had somehow ended up between his, your bodies pressed together in the most natural, intimate way.

You felt your heart swell at how relaxed he was. Spencer wasn’t always like this—so at ease, so unwound. You knew he had trouble sleeping sometimes, that his mind never quite let him rest. But right now, he looked peaceful.

And then—

Oh.

Oh.

You froze as you became aware of something else. Something firm pressing against your thigh.

Heat immediately rushed to your face.

It took a second for your sleepy brain to fully process it, but there was no mistaking what you were feeling. Spencer—soft, sleepy, completely unaware Spencer—had morning wood.

Your whole body went rigid.

This wasn’t bad or anything—totally normal, totally biological, totally not a big deal—but oh God, you were suddenly hyper-aware of everything.

You squeezed your eyes shut, willing yourself to stay calm. But of course, in your panic, your body betrayed you.

You shifted.

Just a tiny movement. But it was enough.

Spencer made a soft noise against your neck, his breath hitching slightly. His fingers flexed where they rested against your waist, and then—he stirred.

You felt it the moment he woke up.

His body stiffened, his breathing changed, and then—

“…Oh.”

Silence.

Complete, deafening silence.

Neither of you moved. Neither of you breathed.

You swore you could hear the gears in Spencer’s brain turning at a million miles per hour as he processed the situation.

And then—

“Oh my God.”

His voice was so horrified, so full of sheer mortification, that you couldn’t help it. Despite your own embarrassment, a nervous giggle bubbled up in your throat.

That seemed to snap him out of his stunned paralysis. He practically flung himself away from you, scrambling backward on the bed like he had just been electrocuted.

“I—I—this isn’t—” He ran a hand through his already-messy hair, eyes wide with panic. “It’s—it’s just biology! A completely involuntary physiological response—there’s an increase in testosterone levels during REM sleep which leads to—oh God, I’m explaining it, I need to stop explaining it—”

You bit your lip, watching him flail, his face rapidly turning as red as his pajama shirt. It was, objectively, the cutest thing you had ever seen.

“Spence.” You reached for his hand, but he was too busy burying his face in his palms, groaning in pure misery.

“I’m so sorry,” he mumbled through his fingers.

You couldn’t hold back your laughter anymore. It started as a giggle but quickly turned into full-blown laughter, your body shaking with it.

Spencer peeked at you from between his fingers, looking both betrayed and confused. “…You’re laughing?”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you gasped, trying to rein it in. “It’s just—oh my God, your face!”

He groaned again, flopping back onto the bed. “I’ll never recover from this. This is how I die.”

Still giggling, you scooted closer, resting your chin on his chest as you looked up at him. “Spence, it’s fine. I promise.”

He cracked one eye open, clearly skeptical. “…You’re not mortified?”

“Not even a little.” You grinned. "Why would I be? Watching you have a meltdown about it is kind of adorable.”

His face somehow turned even redder.

“I was not having a meltdown,” he muttered.

“You flung yourself across the bed like I was on fire.”

“…That’s a natural fight-or-flight response to extreme embarrassment.”

You laughed again, pressing a soft kiss to his jaw. “You’re ridiculous.”

Spencer let out a long breath, his body finally relaxing beneath you. After a moment, he tentatively wrapped an arm around your waist again, pulling you closer.

“…You really don’t think I’m a total disaster?” he asked quietly.

You smiled against his skin. “No, Spence. I think you’re perfect.”

His hand tightened on your waist, his breath a little uneven. “That makes one of us,” he mumbled.

You leaned up just enough to look into his warm, still-slightly-mortified eyes. “Hey. Just so you know—if we’re gonna keep sleeping in the same bed, this might happen again.”

Spencer groaned. “I was trying not to think about that.”

You giggled, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “I’m just saying—maybe next time, you don’t have to freak out so much.”

He hesitated, then, very slowly, buried his face against your shoulder with a small, resigned sigh. “…Noted.”

And with that, you both settled back into the warmth of the blankets, still tangled together, still flustered—but smiling.

[little-jana]

"The Kindness Test"

Pairing: Spencer Reid x reader

Genre: fluff

Words: 300

Warnings: mentions of a hard day

Summary: After a tough day at work, a sweet surprise from Spencer Reid lifts your spirits.

You were exhausted when you got home, barely managing to kick off your shoes before collapsing onto the couch. Work had been long, stressful, and the only thing you wanted was to curl up and forget about the world for a while.

That’s when you noticed it—a small envelope resting on your coffee table. Your name was written in neat, familiar handwriting.

Curious, you picked it up and carefully unfolded the note inside.

"I know today was hard. But did you know that oxytocin, the ‘love hormone,’ is released when you experience kindness? So, in theory, if I tell you how wonderful you are, it might make you feel better. Let’s test it out: You are brilliant. You are kind. And you are loved more than you know. –Spencer"

A warm smile spread across your face as your heart swelled.

And as if on cue, there was a knock at your door.

When you opened it, Spencer stood there, a takeout bag in one hand and your favorite flowers in the other, looking just a little bit sheepish.

“I, uh… thought maybe you could use some company?” he said softly.

You didn’t say anything. Instead, you just stepped forward and wrapped your arms around him, feeling the tension of the day melt away in his embrace.

Yeah. This was exactly what you needed.

[little-jana]

Hii I was wondering if you can do Spencer x reader but they go to a doctor who convention

Oh yes!! I love Doctor Who so much and I love the idea of Spencer getting so excited! Such a cute Idea thank you!🌷❤️

But I apologize for any inaccurate doctor who facts! I love the show, but I don't get half of the stuff they say 😂

[little-jana]

"The Bookstore Incident"

Pairing: Spencer Reid x reader

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: Spencer being clumsy, use of Y/N, early seasons!Spencer

Words: 2k

Summary: When Spencer Reid tries to grab a book at a local bookstore, things go very, very wrong. Or do they?

a/n: requested: yes! Anon asked for a prequel to this one! So here it is! Enjoy!

It was supposed to be a quiet afternoon.

You had wandered into the little independent bookstore tucked between a coffee shop and a vintage clothing store, looking for nothing in particular. The scent of aged paper and fresh ink filled the air as you traced your fingers along the book spines, aimlessly browsing.

The shop was cozy, with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves and a slightly creaky wooden floor that made the place feel like something out of a story itself.

That’s when you heard the crash.

The unmistakable sound of books tumbling to the ground echoed through the store, making you and a few other patrons jump. Turning toward the commotion, you saw him—an absolute disaster of a man standing amidst a pile of fallen books, looking both mortified and helpless.

Tall, lanky, and frantically pushing his unruly brown hair out of his face, he was reaching for the top shelf of a precariously stacked display. It seemed that whatever book he had been trying to retrieve had caused a domino effect, sending at least two dozen books cascading to the floor.

“Oh, no,” he muttered under his breath, crouching down to start picking them up. He looked like he was debating whether he could somehow put them back before anyone noticed. Spoiler: he couldn’t.

You couldn’t help but smile as you walked over. “Need some help?”

His head snapped up, startled by your presence. “I—uh, yes? Maybe? That would be—um—thank you.” His voice was soft and warm, yet tinged with embarrassment.

You crouched down beside him, picking up a book and glancing at the title. Theoretical Physics and the Multiverse Hypothesis. You raised an eyebrow, looking at the others scattered around. A mix of philosophy, quantum mechanics, psychology, and a single, completely out-of-place Agatha Christie novel.

“Quite the collection you knocked over,” you teased, stacking a few books into a neat pile. “Little bit of everything.”

He let out a nervous chuckle, adjusting his sweater vest as he gathered another handful of books. “I, uh… I like to read.”

You grinned. “I can see that.”

For the first time, he looked directly at you, and you noticed just how kind his eyes were—warm brown, filled with something sharp and intelligent but also… a little lost.

You held up the Agatha Christie novel with a smirk. “Murder mysteries, too? Didn’t peg you for the type.”

He blinked, then smiled—just slightly. “Actually, I find her writing fascinating. She once disappeared for eleven days, and no one knows exactly what happened during that time.”

You tilted your head, intrigued. “That’s a fun fact.”

He perked up a little. “I have more.”

You laughed. “Oh, I bet you do.”

A faint blush crept up his neck, but before he could say anything else, you grabbed the book he had originally been reaching for off the shelf and handed it to him.

“Here,” you said. “This the one that started it all?”

He nodded, taking it gingerly, as if he wasn’t sure he deserved it after the chaos he’d just caused. “Yes. Gödel, Escher, Bach: An Eternal Golden Braid. I’ve read it before, but I wanted to reference something.”

You shook your head in amusement. “Of course you have.”

“I’m Spencer, by the way,” he blurted out suddenly, as if realizing he hadn’t introduced himself.

“Nice to meet you, Spencer. I’m (Y/N).”

He hesitated for a moment, then—tentatively—held out his hand. His grip was gentle, fingers warm against yours. It was a simple gesture, but it made your heart skip a beat.

“Well, Spencer,” you said, unable to keep the teasing note out of your voice, “if you ever need help knocking over more bookstores, let me know.”

He let out an actual laugh this time—a soft, real one—and ran a hand through his hair, still looking adorably flustered.

“I might just take you up on that.”

[little-jana]

"Good Girl"

Pairing: postprison!Spencer Reid x reader

Genre: steamy, 18+, fluff, no smut

Warnings: kissing, Spencer calling reader a good girl

Words: 3.4k

Summary: Spencer giving Reader a lot of compliments and one of them makes her blush a lot.

Spencer had been different since prison. Not entirely in ways the team would notice—he still rattled off statistics, quoted obscure literature, and beat everyone at chess. But when you’d known someone as deeply as I knew Spencer, even subtle shifts felt monumental. He was sharper now, his edges honed by experiences no one should have endured. But when it was just the two of us, in those quiet, stolen moments, he softened.

That’s why I stayed by his side tonight instead of joining the team for drinks. Spencer had waved off the invitation, saying he needed a quiet night, and when I hesitated to leave him alone, he’d asked me to stay. It wasn’t much—a shared meal and a chess game in his small apartment—but to me, it felt like everything.

“I can’t tell if you’re planning your next move or plotting my demise,” Spencer said, leaning back in his chair as he watched me.

“I can do both,” I said lightly, though the truth was, I’d been staring at the board for so long because I had no idea what to do.

He smirked, tilting his head slightly. “You’re stalling.”

“I’m thinking,” I corrected.

“You’ve been ‘thinking’ for six minutes and thirty-two seconds.”

“Are you timing me?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No, but I glanced at the clock when you stopped moving your hand after your last turn.”

“Of course you did,” I muttered, my eyes flicking back to the board. “Not all of us have an IQ of 187, you know.”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. The soft light from the lamp behind him highlighted the sharp planes of his face, and for a second, I forgot what we were talking about.

“You’re better than you think,” he said, his voice low.

“Better at chess, or better in general?” I quipped, trying to deflect the heat rising in my cheeks.

Spencer didn’t answer right away. Instead, he studied me, his hazel eyes unblinking and intent.

“Both,” he said simply.

My heart skipped a beat, but I forced myself to focus. This was just Spencer being Spencer—kind and honest to a fault. It didn’t mean anything. Not really.

Finally, I made a move, sliding my bishop into place. I looked up at him triumphantly. “Your turn, genius.”

Spencer’s eyes flicked to the board, and he moved his queen with a casual grace that made my stomach sink. “Checkmate,” he said softly.

“What?” I leaned forward, scanning the board. He was right. Of course he was right.

“How?” I groaned, sitting back in my chair. “I was so careful!”

“That was a good game,” he said, his tone genuine. “You lasted longer than usual.”

I rolled my eyes. “Gee, thanks.”

“No, really,” he insisted. “Your defense has improved. That last move was smart.”

“Then how did I still lose?”

His lips quirked into a smile. “Because I’ve been playing chess since I was four, and you’ve only been playing for—”

“Three months,” I finished for him.

“Exactly,” he said, his smile widening. “But you’re learning fast. Good girl.”

The words hit me like a freight train. My cheeks burned, and I ducked my head, pretending to fiddle with the edge of the table.

“Something wrong?” Spencer asked, his voice tinged with concern.

“No,” I said quickly, my voice higher than usual. “I’m fine.”

“You’re blushing,” he observed, tilting his head.

“I’m not,” I lied, even though I could feel the heat spreading down my neck.

His lips twitched, like he was fighting a smile. “You’re a terrible liar.”

“I’m not lying,” I said weakly, avoiding his gaze.

“Hmm,” he hummed, his tone teasing now.

Desperate to change the subject, I stood and grabbed the empty takeout containers from the coffee table. “I’m going to clean this up.”

Spencer followed me into the kitchen, leaning against the counter as I tossed the containers into the trash. His presence was a tangible thing, and I could feel his eyes on me as I wiped down the counter.

“Good,” he said softly.

I turned to face him, confused. “Good what?”

“Good technique,” he said, nodding toward the counter.

My cheeks flamed again. “Are you just saying that to mess with me?”

“No,” he said, his expression softening. “I mean it. You’re good at a lot of things, but you never give yourself credit.”

I swallowed hard, my heart pounding in my chest. “I think you’re overestimating me,” I said quietly.

Spencer stepped closer, his gaze never leaving mine. “No, I’m not,” he said firmly. “You’re smart, capable, and one of the kindest people I’ve ever met. You’re… amazing.”

My breath caught in my throat. The sincerity in his voice, the intensity in his eyes—it was overwhelming.

“Spencer…” I trailed off, unsure of what to say.

He reached out, his fingers brushing against mine. The touch was so gentle, so careful, it made my chest ache. “You don’t believe me, do you?”

I shook my head slightly. “It’s not that… I just don’t see myself the way you do.”

His brows furrowed, and he tilted his head slightly. “You should. Because I’m not wrong.”

The silence between us stretched, thick with unspoken words. I felt like I was standing on the edge of something, and for once, I wasn’t afraid to fall.

“You’re doing it again,” he said softly.

“Doing what?”

“Doubting yourself,” he said, his voice laced with a quiet kind of sadness.

I opened my mouth to argue, but the look on his face stopped me.

“You’re a good girl,” he said, his voice low and steady. “You just don’t know it yet.”

My cheeks burned, and I looked down, unable to meet his gaze.

“Hey,” he said gently, tilting my chin up with his finger. “Don’t hide from me.”

“I’m not hiding,” I whispered, though the words felt hollow.

“Yes, you are,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “And you don’t have to.”

Before I could overthink it, I stepped closer, closing the small distance between us. “Spencer…”

“Yes?”

I hesitated, my heart hammering in my chest. But then his eyes softened, and I knew. I knew he would catch me if I fell.

“I want to kiss you,” I said, my voice barely audible.

Spencer's lips curved into a small, surprised smile. “You do?”

I nodded, my cheeks flaming. “Is that… okay?”

His eyes softened, a mixture of surprise and something deeper—something that made my heart race. “It’s more than okay,” he said quietly.

I barely had time to process his words before his hand cupped my cheek, his fingers feather-light against my skin. He was so close now, his breath warm against my lips. For a moment, we just stood there, suspended in time.

And then he kissed me.

The world fell away.

It started soft, tentative—like he was afraid I’d disappear if he moved too quickly. His lips brushed against mine once, twice, each touch careful and reverent. It was everything I hadn’t dared to hope for: tender, consuming, perfect.

But then I leaned in, my fingers clutching at the front of his cardigan, and something shifted. The kiss deepened, and Spencer’s hand slid from my cheek to the back of my neck, pulling me closer. His other hand rested lightly on my waist, steadying me as my knees threatened to give out beneath me.

The softness gave way to something bolder, more urgent. His lips moved against mine with a fervor that left me breathless, and I couldn’t stop the small gasp that escaped me. Spencer stilled for a fraction of a second, as if startled by the sound, but then his grip tightened ever so slightly, and I was lost all over again.

He tasted like peppermint tea and something uniquely Spencer, and I never wanted it to end.

When we finally pulled apart, I was dizzy, my head spinning in the best way possible. Spencer rested his forehead against mine, his breath coming in short, uneven bursts.

“That was…” He trailed off, his voice unsteady.

“Amazing,” I finished for him, my voice barely above a whisper.

He chuckled softly, the sound warm and intimate in the quiet of his apartment. “Yeah. Amazing.”

My cheeks flushed, but this time it wasn’t from embarrassment—it was from the way he was looking at me, like I was the only thing in the world that mattered.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” he admitted, his voice low.

“Really?” I asked, my heart swelling at the thought.

He nodded, a small, shy smile playing at his lips. “But I didn’t think you felt the same way.”

“Spencer,” I said, shaking my head with a soft laugh. “How could I not? You’re… you.”

His brow furrowed slightly, like he was trying to puzzle out my words. “I’m not always good at recognizing when people care about me,” he said quietly.

“Well, I care,” I said firmly, my hand still clutching the front of his cardigan. “A lot.”

He smiled then, a real, unguarded smile that made my chest ache in the best way. “I care about you too,” he said softly.

For a moment, neither of us spoke. The air between us was thick with unspoken promises, the kind that didn’t need words to be understood.

Spencer’s hand slid from my waist to my hand, his fingers curling around mine. “You’re incredible, you know that?”

I looked away, flustered. “You’re just saying that.”

“I’m not,” he said, tugging me closer. “You’re smart, kind, and strong. And you’re a good girl.”

There it was again, the phrase that sent my heart into overdrive. My cheeks burned, and I bit my lip, trying to suppress the shy smile threatening to break free.

“You really like saying that, don’t you?” I teased, though my voice came out softer than I intended.

“Only because it’s true,” he said, his thumb brushing over my knuckles.

The sincerity in his voice, the way he was looking at me—I couldn’t take it. I hid my face in his chest, my fingers curling into the fabric of his cardigan.

“You’re impossible,” I mumbled against him, though my tone lacked any real heat.

“And you’re adorable when you’re flustered,” he replied, his voice filled with gentle amusement.

I tilted my head up to look at him, narrowing my eyes in mock indignation. “You’re lucky I like you.”

His smile widened, and he leaned down to press a soft kiss to my forehead. “I’m the lucky one.”

---

After we settled onto the couch, Spencer pulled a blanket over us, his arm draped around my shoulders as I rested my head against his chest. The quiet hum of the world outside seemed so far away, replaced by the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

“Spencer?” I asked softly, my voice breaking the comfortable silence.

“Hmm?”

“This is real, right?” I tilted my head to look up at him, my eyes searching his face for any hint of hesitation.

He glanced down at me, his brows furrowing slightly. “Of course it’s real. Why would you think it’s not?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted, my cheeks flushing. “It just feels… too good to be true.”

Spencer’s hand came up to cradle my face, his thumb brushing lightly over my cheek. “It’s real,” he said firmly. “I’m real. And I’m not going anywhere.”

Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, but I blinked them away, focusing instead on the warmth in his gaze. “Promise?”

“I promise,” he said softly, pressing another kiss to my forehead.

And in that moment, with his arms around me and his words echoing in my heart, I believed him.

[little-jana]

"Hearts at War"

Pairing: Spencer Reid x reader, Aaron Hotchner x reader

Genre: fluff

Words: 4.5k

Warnings: Light rivalry, a bit of jealousy, and lots of pining, but ultimately fluff, no throuple thingy, just one of them at the end wins her heart, kissing

Summary: When a brilliant and captivating new agent joins the BAU, both Hotch and Reid find themselves drawn to her. Their attempts to impress her quickly escalate into a silly little competition.

a/n: This was requested and so fun to write! Enjoy!

The BAU had welcomed new team members before, but something about you changed the dynamic in ways none of them expected.

For one, you were effortlessly charming, intelligent, and sharp-witted. You had an impressive track record, a knack for profiling, and a personality that made even the most grueling days in the field feel lighter.

But most importantly, you had unknowingly done the impossible—you had both Aaron Hotchner and Spencer Reid completely, utterly enamored.

At first, it was subtle.

Spencer would linger by your desk longer than necessary, rambling about case files or psychological theories, his voice slightly faster than usual. Hotch, on the other hand, would offer small smiles (which for him was practically beaming), and his usual professionalism would crack just enough to reveal something softer whenever you were around.

And then, without either of them realizing, it escalated into a full-blown rivalry.

It started on a case in Chicago. The team had just arrived at the precinct, and you were setting up in the briefing room when the first incident occurred.

“I, uh, brought you coffee,” Spencer said, setting a cup in front of you, his ears tinged red. “You take it with two sugars and a little bit of cream, right?”

You blinked, touched by the gesture. “Oh! That’s so sweet of you, Spencer. Thank you.”

Spencer beamed—until a second cup of coffee was set down beside it.

“I already got her one,” Hotch said, his tone neutral but his expression just smug enough to be noticeable.

You looked between the two cups, then up at the two men staring at you expectantly. The tension was so thick it could be cut with a knife.

“Well,” you said awkwardly, “looks like I’m going to be very caffeinated today.”

You took a sip of Hotch’s first (because it was closer), and Spencer narrowed his eyes at his boss like a cat who just had its favorite seat stolen.

And that was the moment Derek Morgan realized what was happening.

“Oh, this is good,” Morgan whispered to JJ as they watched from the other side of the room.

It didn’t stop at coffee.

Hotch started offering to drive you to crime scenes more often, opening doors for you, and giving you extra time to present your insights during briefings.

Spencer, not to be outdone, made it his mission to impress you with facts he thought you’d find interesting, bringing you books he insisted you’d love, and subtly making sure he was always the one sitting next to you on the jet.

It wasn’t long before the rest of the team picked up on it.

“Okay,” JJ said one afternoon, watching as Hotch and Spencer subtly (or not so subtly) hovered near your desk. “Are we all seeing this?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Morgan grinned. “They’re both smitten.”

Garcia gasped dramatically. “Is our resident genius and our fearless leader competing for the same woman?!”

“Looks like it,” Rossi smirked, clearly enjoying the show.

“And who do we think is going to win?” JJ asked.

“That,” Morgan said, watching as Spencer tried to one-up Hotch’s impressive legal analysis with an even more impressive psychological breakdown of the unsub, “is the million-dollar question.”

The competition reached its peak on a quiet Friday night at the BAU offices.

Most of the team had gone home, but you, Spencer, and Hotch were still reviewing files when the power went out due to a storm.

“Looks like we’re stuck here for a bit,” you sighed, stretching your arms.

Hotch, ever the leader, immediately took charge. “I’ll call maintenance and see if they have an estimate for restoration.”

Spencer, on the other hand, saw this as the perfect moment. “You know,” he started, pushing up his sleeves, “since we’re waiting, I could teach you some magic tricks. I don’t think I’ve ever shown you my sleight of hand illusions.”

You grinned. “That sounds fun.”

But before Spencer could reach into his pocket for a deck of cards, Hotch returned. “It’ll be at least an hour,” he said, before casually adding, “In the meantime, I have some MREs in my office if you’re hungry.”

Spencer gaped at him. “You’re trying to impress her with military rations?”

Hotch raised an eyebrow. “She likes survival tactics.”

“That doesn’t mean she wants to eat vacuum-sealed beef stew, Hotch!” Spencer argued.

“I appreciate both of your offers,” you interrupted, thoroughly amused. “But, um… I think I’ll just have a granola bar.”

Neither of them looked particularly satisfied with that answer.

The storm raged on outside, but inside the BAU, a different kind of storm was brewing.

It was Rossi who finally pushed you toward making a choice.

“You do know what’s going on, right?” Rossi asked one afternoon while you were reviewing a case file at your desk.

You sighed. “Oh, I know.”

“And?”

You hesitated. “I care about both of them. A lot.”

“But one of them more?”

You looked down, biting your lip. The answer was already there—you’d just been afraid to say it.

That night, as the team was leaving for the weekend, you found the person you really wanted to be with.

And when you walked up to Spencer Reid, gently tugging his tie and pressing a soft, lingering kiss to his lips in the dimly lit hallway…

Hotch, watching from his office, simply sighed, shook his head, and muttered, “I should’ve gone with magic tricks.”

Morgan, who witnessed everything, burst into laughter. “Oh man, I love this team.”

[little-jana]

"Morning Heat"

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x f!reader

Genre: Fluff, heated

Warnings: early relationship awkwardness, Hotch being smug, mentions of a boner, teasing, some kissing, a little heat, kinda fade to black smut

Words: 2k

Summary: Waking up in Hotch's arms for the first time is sweet—until you feel something pressing against you.

a/n: This was requested by anon!

The first thing you noticed when you woke up was warmth.

The second was the steady rise and fall of Aaron’s chest beneath your cheek, his arm heavy around your waist, keeping you flush against him.

The bedroom was still dim, the early morning light barely slipping through the curtains. Everything felt still—peaceful, even. Your body was relaxed in a way you hadn’t felt in a long time, wrapped in the quiet comfort of him.

It was the first time you had stayed the night.

Aaron had been careful, almost hesitant when he asked if you wanted to, as if worried it might be too much, too soon. But you had agreed without a second thought—because, despite the newness of your relationship, there was something about being with him that felt natural.

And waking up like this, your body tangled with his, only solidified that feeling.

You shifted slightly, just enough to nuzzle closer, pressing your nose into the warmth of his skin.

And that was when you felt it.

Firm. Insistent. Pressed against your hip.

Your breath hitched.

Your mind, still hazy from sleep, took a second to process—but when it did, oh.

Oh.

Heat rushed to your face, creeping down your neck like fire.

You immediately went rigid, heartbeat hammering in your chest. Maybe you were imagining things. Maybe you had just shifted wrong.

But then Aaron let out a slow, deep breath, his arm tightening around you, pulling you just a fraction closer.

Nope. Not imagining it.

Oh, God.

Your skin burned, every nerve in your body suddenly hyper-aware of where you were pressed against him.

You should move. You should. But your body refused to cooperate, frozen in place, completely at war with itself.

And then—

“I can feel you thinking.”

His voice was thick with sleep, rough and low in a way that sent an involuntary shiver down your spine.

You squeaked. Actually squeaked.

Aaron chuckled, the vibration of his chest beneath your cheek making you even more flustered.

“You’re adorable when you’re embarrassed,” he murmured, his tone far too amused for your liking.

You groaned, squeezing your eyes shut, as if willing the moment away. “I—shut up.”

His chest rumbled with laughter. “That’s not very nice.”

“I am trying to ignore this.”

“Are you?” His hand moved slowly up your back, fingertips grazing the exposed skin just beneath the hem of your shirt. “Because you haven’t moved away.”

Your breath caught.

He was teasing you. Teasing you.

You pulled back just enough to glare up at him, fully prepared to give him a piece of your mind—but the moment your eyes met his, you regretted everything.

His gaze was heavy-lidded, dark with something unreadable. The smallest smirk played on his lips, and the lazy confidence in it made your stomach flip.

You swallowed hard.

Aaron Hotchner was smirking at you in bed, and you were going to die.

“You’re enjoying this,” you accused, voice barely above a whisper.

He hummed, fingers tracing slow, lazy circles against your skin. “Maybe a little.”

Your face burned hotter. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re still blushing.” His smirk deepened, his hand slipping lower until his fingers brushed the small of your back. “I think you like this more than you’re admitting.”

You made a very undignified sound, burying your face in his chest in a desperate attempt to escape his gaze.

Aaron laughed.

Actually laughed.

And before you could protest, before you could even think, he rolled you effortlessly onto your back, pressing his weight over you, his hands bracing on either side of your head.

Your breath hitched.

The amusement in his expression softened, dark eyes searching yours. His voice was quieter when he spoke.

“Is this okay?”

You knew what he was asking. He was always careful with you, always making sure to check in.

And despite the absolute chaos in your brain, despite how flustered you were, you knew your answer without hesitation.

“Yes,” you whispered.

His eyes darkened just slightly. “Good.”

Then he leaned in.

Your breath caught as his lips brushed against your jaw, featherlight. His hand ghosted over your hip, fingertips teasing along the waistband of your shorts but never venturing further. It was slow—so unbearably slow.

And it was driving you insane.

Aaron knew it, too. You could feel the way his lips curved against your skin, the smug satisfaction in the way he lingered, dragging out every second.

You were dizzy, your pulse hammering so loudly you were sure he could hear it.

“Aaron—”

He hummed against your neck. “Hmm?”

Your fingers curled into the fabric of his T-shirt, desperate for something to ground yourself.

“You are so—”

He pressed a kiss just below your ear.

Your thoughts vanished.

And suddenly, you weren’t so flustered anymore.

You exhaled slowly, tilting your head slightly to give him better access. “You’re lucky I like you,” you murmured.

Aaron pulled back just enough to meet your gaze again, his smirk softening into something deeper. Something real.

“I know,” he murmured. “I’m very lucky.”

And then he kissed you.

And your morning only got warmer from there.

[little-jana]

"Soft Words in a Loud World"

Pairing: Spencer Reid x gn!reader

Genre: fluff

Words: 2k

Warnings: Mentions of past trauma (vague, non-explicit), hurt/comfort

Summary: You don’t like shouting—haven’t for as long as you can remember. But Spencer knows. And Spencer never does.

a/n: requested by anon! Thank you, hope u like it! 💞

The first time Spencer saw you flinch at raised voices, he didn’t say anything.

He just noticed.

It was during a briefing, when Hotch had snapped out orders a little too sharply in response to a particularly frustrating case. It wasn’t directed at you, but that didn’t matter. The moment the tension spiked, you had gone quiet, your shoulders stiff, your gaze locked onto a fixed point on the table.

You hadn’t reacted too noticeably—probably not enough for most people to pick up on it.

But Spencer wasn’t most people.

And Spencer noticed everything.

After that, he made sure to be careful.

Not obviously, not in a way that would make you feel singled out. Just small things—lowering his voice when he spoke to you, never raising it even when he got passionate about a subject (which, let’s be honest, was often). If the team was in a heated discussion, he’d subtly shift his body so he was blocking you from the worst of it.

He never asked about it. Never pried.

But you knew he knew.

And you were grateful.

It wasn’t until months later that you brought it up.

You and Spencer were sitting on his couch, legs stretched out over a mess of books and case files. The TV was on, playing some old sci-fi movie that neither of you were really paying attention to.

“I don’t think I ever said thank you,” you murmured.

Spencer blinked, looking up from the book in his lap. “For what?”

You hesitated.

“For… never shouting,” you admitted, your voice softer than before.

Spencer frowned slightly. “I wouldn’t have a reason to shout at you.”

“I know,” you said quickly. “But I mean, even when things get intense. Or frustrating. You always…” You gestured vaguely. “You just don’t.”

His expression shifted—understanding settling in like it always did when he pieced things together.

“I just don’t like it,” you said, picking at the seam of your sleeve. “I never have.”

Spencer was quiet for a moment, considering his words.

Then, gently, “Did something happen?”

You shrugged, not meeting his eyes. “Yeah. A long time ago.”

You didn’t elaborate. You didn’t have to.

Spencer nodded, as if that was all he needed to know.

“I get it,” he said simply. “Loud voices can be overwhelming. They change the whole atmosphere of a room. Even if they’re not directed at you, it can still feel like a threat.”

Your breath caught slightly.

Because, yeah.

That was exactly it.

You glanced at him, and Spencer gave you a small, knowing smile. “It’s not the same thing,” he admitted, “but I don’t like shouting either. Growing up, I used to get overwhelmed in loud environments. Too much stimulation all at once.” He tapped his temple lightly. “My brain doesn’t filter external stimuli the way most people’s do. Everything just… comes in at the same volume.”

That made sense. You’d always known Spencer had a hard time with crowded spaces and loud noises.

“I just learned to cope with it,” he continued. “But I always preferred quiet.”

You studied him for a moment, warmth filling your chest. “Guess that’s why we get along so well.”

Spencer smiled. “Guess so.”

And that was it.

No prying. No pushing.

Just understanding.

Just Spencer.

And for the first time in a long time, you felt safe.

You never had to ask him to be gentle with his words.

He just was.

[little-jana]

can I get a quick fix of either Spencer or hotch where reader sleeps over for the first time and they wake up with a boner, and their both just shy and flustered

This is cute haha, I love it! I'll put it on the list for both characters. But I feel like Hotch wouldn't be flustered about it, just smirking into readers neck pulling them against him... sooo ... Only shy and flustered for Spencer and for Hotch I'll switch it up a bit? 😍

[little-jana]

I've just read "Dr. Reid's plus-one and a half" and their meet cute on the bookshop would be such a good fic!!and with that said, my request is their meet cute with details, dialogue and the clumsy, awkward early seasons Spencer (-:

Oh this is such a cute idea! I'll definitely add it to my list! Thank you so much for requesting 😍😍

[little-jana]

"Dr. Reid’s Plus-One and A Half"

Pairing: Spencer Reid x wife!reader

Genre: fluff

Words: 2k

Warnings: some team shenanigans, pregnancy, secret relationship, use of Y/N, season 1 Spencer awkwardness

Summary: The BAU hosts a formal dance, and Spencer shows up with his very pregnant wife—who no one even knew existed. Cue absolute chaos.

a/n: requested: yes! Thank u very much! Enjoy! 🌷

The FBI’s annual formal dance was something Hotch insisted they attend, mostly to keep up appearances with the higher-ups and maintain a sense of normalcy outside of chasing serial killers. While most of the team had plans to go together, no one expected Spencer Reid—the socially awkward, cardigan-wearing genius—to bring a date.

And certainly not a wife.

Yet, there he was, walking into the venue in a well-fitted suit, holding hands with the most adorable, bubbly woman they had ever seen. She had a radiant smile, an excited energy that contrasted Spencer’s usual nervous demeanor, and—oh yeah—a very noticeable baby bump.

Derek Morgan choked on his drink. Penelope Garcia shrieked. JJ’s mouth dropped open. Elle literally did a double-take. Hotch… well, Hotch just looked stunned in the most subtle Hotch way possible.

“WHAT THE HELL, PRETTY BOY?!” Morgan was the first to explode, eyes flicking between Spencer and the woman clinging to his arm.

“Umm…” Spencer adjusted his tie nervously, pushing his glasses up. “Everyone, this is my wife, (Y/N).”

“Your WHAT?!”

“Hi!” You beamed, completely unfazed by their reaction. “I’m so excited to meet all of you! Spencer talks about you guys all the time!”

“Wife?!” JJ echoed, eyes still wide. “You’re married?!”

“And expecting?!” Penelope practically vibrated with excitement, eyes locked on your baby bump.

Spencer cleared his throat. “Uh, yeah. Surprise?”

“Oh, this is more than a surprise, genius,” Morgan said, crossing his arms. “How the hell did you keep this from us?”

“Well…” Spencer hesitated. “It just never… came up?”

“I CANNOT BELIEVE THIS,” Penelope squealed. “Wait, wait, how did you two even meet?! How long have you been married?! Oh my God, Spencer, you absolute sneaky little nerd!”

You laughed, squeezing Spencer’s arm. “It’s actually a really cute story! We met at a bookstore two years ago—he knocked over an entire display while trying to reach for a book, and I helped him clean it up. We got married about a year ago, and now—” You patted your belly with a grin. “—we’ve got a little one on the way!”

The team collectively lost it.

Morgan looked betrayed. “You mean to tell me this whole time, while I’ve been trying to help this man talk to women, he’s been married to you?”

“Yup!” You chirped happily.

“I have never felt more deceived,” Penelope gasped dramatically, placing a hand over her heart. “Spencer, you mean to tell me you had a secret wife and didn’t tell your favorite tech goddess?!”

“Uh… surprise?” Spencer repeated awkwardly.

JJ shook her head in disbelief. “I think this might be the most shocking case we’ve ever had.”

Hotch finally stepped forward, looking between you and Spencer with something that almost resembled a smile. “I have to admit, Reid, I didn’t expect this.”

“Neither did I,” Elle muttered.

“Did anyone see this coming?” JJ asked.

“Nope,” Morgan said immediately.

“Not at all,” Penelope added.

“Well, I did tell them about you,” Spencer mumbled to you.

“But you failed to mention the wife part,” you teased.

Spencer sighed, rubbing his forehead. “Okay, okay, I get it. It’s just… I guess I was worried about how you’d all react.”

“Oh, genius, we’re ecstatic,” Penelope assured, bouncing on her heels. “Just completely and utterly blindsided.”

“Seriously, though,” Morgan said, placing a hand on Spencer’s shoulder. “Congrats, man. You really found yourself someone special.”

Spencer smiled, looking down at you with pure affection. “Yeah. I really did.”

And as the team finally gathered around, asking you a million questions and gushing over your baby bump, Spencer couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming warmth. Maybe he had been nervous about telling them, but now? Seeing how much they cared—for both of you—it was more than he could have ever hoped for.

The BAU’s resident genius: awkward in social situations, but apparently an expert in secret marriages.

[little-jana]

and then also the audacity to bring up maeve? ok

Totally outrageous 😭

[little-jana]

https://www.tumblr.com/little-jana/775405427828686848/fractured-edges?source=share

so funny to hear that coming from the king of sacrifice himself and also the king of not telling people shit? hmmm

RIGHT? the audacity...

Love that you're getting emotional over something I wrote 🤭

Talking about this angsty fic

[little-jana]

"Steady Hands"

Pairing: Spencer Reid x gn!reader

Genre: fluff, slight angst (hurt/comfort)

Words: 2k

Warnings: depictions of a panic attack, anxiety, use of Y/N, can be read as friend!Spencer

Summary: Spencer helps you through a panic attack.

a/n: requested by anon! If anyone is struggling please feel free to reach out to me! I have some great tips that help me through anxiety. Especially this breathing technique, it's great!

The world was too loud.

That was the first thing you registered as the panic set in. The distant hum of the café, the clatter of dishes, the muffled conversations—it all blended into a deafening roar that pressed against your skull. Your breathing had gone shallow, your heart hammering so hard it felt like it was trying to escape your chest.

You knew what was happening. You'd been here before. But that didn't make it any easier.

The walls felt like they were closing in, and no matter how much you tried to remind yourself that you were safe, that nothing bad was happening, your body refused to listen. Your hands trembled violently as you pressed them against the wooden table, your vision blurring at the edges.

Then, a familiar voice cut through the noise.

"(Y/N)?"

Spencer.

You didn’t even realize he had arrived. His voice was soft but steady, pulling you out of the whirlwind just enough to register that he was crouching beside you.

You couldn’t speak. Your throat felt too tight, as if words would get caught like stones if you tried to force them out. Your fingers curled into your palms, nails digging into your skin, trying to ground yourself.

Spencer noticed immediately.

His long fingers wrapped gently around your wrists, not pulling, just holding—an anchor in the storm. “Hey, it’s okay. Just focus on me,” he murmured, his voice deliberate and soothing. “You’re safe. You’re here.”

You swallowed hard, your breaths still coming too fast, too ragged.

“Can you match my breathing?” Spencer asked, demonstrating by inhaling slowly through his nose, then exhaling just as steadily. “In for four… one, two, three, four… hold for four… one, two, three, four… out for four.”

You tried to mimic him, but it felt impossible. Your lungs were fighting against you, refusing to obey.

“That’s okay,” Spencer assured you, his thumbs rubbing slow, reassuring circles against your wrists. “Try again. Just a little slower this time.”

You squeezed your eyes shut and followed his lead.

Inhale. One, two, three, four.

Hold. One, two, three, four.

Exhale. One, two, three, four.

It wasn’t perfect, but it was better.

“Good,” Spencer said, his voice full of quiet encouragement. “You’re doing great.”

Your fingers slowly uncurled. Your heartbeat, though still too fast, wasn’t quite as erratic. The trembling in your hands dulled to a faint shake.

Spencer didn’t let go.

He stayed there, crouched beside you in the middle of the café, shielding you from the rest of the world with nothing but his presence.

After a few more minutes, you finally opened your eyes. His face was close, warm brown eyes filled with nothing but concern and patience.

“There you are,” he said softly.

You let out a shaky breath, blinking away the residual panic. “…Sorry.”

Spencer frowned immediately. “No. Don’t apologize.” His tone was firm but kind. “This isn’t something you have to be sorry for.”

You swallowed past the lump in your throat. “I just… I hate when this happens. I should be able to control it.”

Spencer shook his head. “That’s not how panic attacks work.”

You expected him to let go now that you had calmed down, but he didn’t. Instead, he shifted, moving to sit beside you in the booth, his hand resting lightly over yours. Not restraining, just offering warmth.

“Your brain is perceiving a threat, even if there isn’t one,” he explained gently. “It triggers the amygdala, which overrides the prefrontal cortex—the part responsible for rational thought. That’s why grounding exercises help. They re-engage the rational part of your brain.”

You huffed a tired laugh. “Always the professor, huh?”

Spencer smiled, small but genuine. “Only when I think it might help.”

You exhaled slowly, still feeling wrung out, but the worst of the storm had passed. “Thank you,” you murmured.

“Always,” he said without hesitation.

And you believed him.

[little-jana]

"A Love in Code"

Pairing: Spencer Reid x reader

Genre: fluff

Words: 3.5k

Warnings: mutual pining, kinda slow-burn, kissing

Summary: On Valentine’s Day a secret admirer starts leaving you coded messages, book quotes, and thoughtful gifts.

a/n: it's really similar to my other Spencer Valentine’s fic, but I just loved the idea sooo much. I had to write another one! Enjoy! Happy Valentine’s Day my loves 🌷💝

February 14th – 8:12 AM

You weren’t expecting much for Valentine’s Day.

Sure, the BAU was like a family, and someone (probably Penelope) would bring in heart-shaped cookies. But you hadn’t planned anything special for yourself.

That changed the moment you arrived at your desk.

Sitting on your keyboard was a small, folded note with your name on it.

You frowned, glancing around. Everyone was going about their morning routine—JJ sipping coffee, Derek chatting with Emily, Spencer flipping through a book. No one seemed to be watching you.

Curious, you opened the note.

“When I saw you I fell in love, and you smiled because you knew.” – Arrigo Boito

Your breath caught.

A love quote? From who?

“Whatcha got there?” JJ appeared beside you, peeking over your shoulder.

You quickly folded the note. “Nothing! Just… something from a friend.”

JJ raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. “A special friend?”

You rolled your eyes, but your heart raced.

A secret admirer? Could it really be possible?

And if so… who?

10:45 AM

The second surprise came just before the team’s briefing.

You returned from the breakroom to find a small book sitting on your chair. Pride and Prejudice.

Your heart pounded as you picked it up. Tucked inside the front cover was another note.

“You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.” – Mr. Darcy

Your face burned.

Okay. This was real.

“Wow,” Emily said, appearing beside you. “Whoever this is, they know their romance novels.”

You forced a laugh, scanning the room. Spencer was flipping through his own book, not paying you any mind. Derek was smirking like he knew something.

Your mind raced.

Could it be… Spencer?

No. That was ridiculous.

Right?

2:30 PM

You spent most of the afternoon trying (and failing) to focus on work. Every time you thought about the notes, your heart fluttered.

Then, just as you returned from lunch, another surprise appeared on your desk.

A small box of chocolates.

Your hands shook as you picked up the attached note.

“All you need is love. But a little chocolate now and then doesn’t hurt.” – Charles M. Schulz

Your stomach flipped.

“Alright,” Penelope declared, marching over. “I need to know who’s making you blush like that.”

You groaned. “I don’t know!”

She narrowed her eyes. “Oh, you definitely have a guess.”

You bit your lip.

Spencer.

It had to be him. The literary quotes, the thoughtful gifts—it all screamed Spencer.

But why would he keep it a secret?

Unless…

He was scared.

Just like you.

5:00 PM

You were packing up to leave when Spencer appeared at your desk.

“Hey,” he said, his voice slightly hesitant.

You smiled, trying to act normal. “Hey, Spence. What’s up?”

He shifted on his feet. “I, uh… I was wondering if you wanted to get coffee?”

Your heart pounded. “Coffee?”

He nodded. “I mean, if you don’t have plans, of course. I just thought… we could talk.”

Your pulse thrummed in your ears.

This was it.

You swallowed hard, then smiled. “I’d love to.”

6:15 PM – The Coffee Shop

The café was quiet, bathed in the soft hum of conversation and the gentle clinking of cups against saucers. The scent of roasted coffee lingered in the air, but you barely noticed it.

Spencer sat across from you, fingers tapping restlessly against his cup. The nervous energy rolling off him was something you weren’t used to—he was always so composed, even when discussing the most horrific cases.

But now, he looked… hesitant. Uncertain.

You took a deep breath, steadying yourself before pulling out the small stack of notes from your bag and placing them on the table between you.

“Spencer,” you said softly. “Was it you?”

His gaze dropped to the familiar handwriting on the notes.

He stilled.

For a moment, he didn’t speak. His lips parted slightly, his fingers tightening around the ceramic of his coffee cup. His mind was working through a million thoughts, you could tell—trying to calculate the best response, the least damaging outcome.

But there was only one truth.

His shoulders rose with a deep inhale, and then, finally, he met your eyes.

“I wanted to tell you,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I didn’t know how.”

Your breath hitched.

“Spencer…” you prompted, leaning forward. “Why didn’t you just say something?”

He let out a soft, humorless chuckle, shaking his head. “Because I was scared. I’m not—” He paused, licking his lips. “I’m not good at things like this. I’ve spent my whole life being better with numbers and facts than with people. And you… you’re the exception to every rule I’ve ever known.”

Your heart squeezed.

“The exception?” you echoed.

He exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck, his nerves unraveling before your eyes. “I thought if I told you, it would ruin everything. You’re my best friend. And I was terrified of losing that, of making things complicated. But I also—” He let out a shaky breath. “I couldn’t not tell you.”

Your fingers trembled against the notes as you absorbed his words.

He had felt the same fear you had.

The same hesitation, the same nervous energy that had been plaguing you for months.

He had been scared of losing you.

The weight of it all crashed over you like a tidal wave, and suddenly, every glance, every stolen moment, every lingering touch between you over the years took on a new meaning.

Spencer Reid—the man who saw the world through logic and numbers, who feared unpredictability and chaos—had been in love with you all along.

Your throat tightened. “Spence…”

He swallowed hard, his hazel eyes filled with a quiet vulnerability. “I love you,” he confessed, the words escaping like an exhale he’d been holding in for far too long. “I think I’ve loved you for longer than I even realized. I just—” He shook his head. “I didn’t know how to say it until now.”

Your breath caught.

A warmth spread through your chest, replacing every doubt, every fear, every moment of uncertainty you had carried for so long.

Because you knew.

You knew that this—this man sitting in front of you, the one who had left you quotes from classic literature and chocolates and poetry—he was it.

He was everything.

You didn’t hesitate.

Reaching across the table, you laced your fingers with his. His hand was warm, slightly trembling, but he didn’t pull away.

“I love you too,” you whispered, the words spilling from your lips as naturally as breathing. “I have for so long, but I—” You shook your head, laughing softly at yourself. “I guess we’re both kind of idiots, huh?”

A slow, brilliant smile spread across his face, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Yeah,” he murmured. “I guess we are.”

The warmth of his hand against yours sent electricity up your spine, and suddenly, sitting across from him wasn’t enough.

You stood, heart racing, and Spencer followed suit without hesitation. There was no awkwardness, no hesitation—just an unspoken understanding as you met him halfway, closing the space between you.

Your hands moved to his face, fingers brushing along his sharp jawline. His own hands settled at your waist, hesitant but firm.

And then, you kissed him.

It was soft at first—a gentle meeting of lips, like the first note of a song waiting to be played. But then he responded, tilting his head, deepening the kiss just enough to make your heart stutter.

His fingers curled into your waist, pulling you just a little closer, and for the first time in forever, you weren’t overthinking a single thing.

You just let yourself feel.

When you finally pulled away, breathless and lightheaded, Spencer rested his forehead against yours, a small, incredulous laugh escaping him.

“I can’t believe it took me this long,” he murmured.

You grinned, brushing your thumb along his cheek. “Better late than never, Dr. Reid.”

He huffed a laugh. “Happy Valentine’s Day,” he whispered, his breath ghosting against your lips.

You smiled.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Spence.”

And as you stood there in the dimly lit café, hands still tangled together, you knew—this was the start of something extraordinary.

Something that had been written in the stars all along.

[little-jana]

"Fractured Edges"

Pairing: Spencer Reid x reader

Genre: angst

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: raised voices, emotional distress, fighting, case-talk, self-doubt, unresolved conflict, no comfort, mentions of Maeve

Summary: Spencer’s anger and fear explode after you put yourself in danger without telling him.

You had never seen Spencer Reid this angry before.

Not when cases went sideways. Not when he was on the receiving end of ridicule. Not even when his own life was at risk.

But now? Now, as he stood in front of you, his hands clenched into fists, his chest rising and falling in sharp, uneven breaths—you realized there was an entirely different side of Spencer you had never seen before. One that wasn’t built from logic and facts, but from raw, unfiltered emotion.

And it terrified you.

"You lied to me," he snapped, his voice like glass breaking against concrete.

Your stomach twisted. "Spencer, I didn’t—"

"Don't." He shook his head, his jaw tight, his entire body rigid with barely restrained fury. "Don't insult me by pretending like it wasn’t a lie."

You swallowed hard, the weight of the situation settling deep in your chest. "I didn't tell you because I knew how you'd react."

His laugh was hollow, bitter. "Oh, so you knew I’d be upset? That makes it better?" He took a step forward, his eyes burning into yours. "What else have you kept from me?"

The question hit you harder than it should have.

"It wasn’t about you, Spencer," you said, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. "I made a choice, and I stand by it."

"A choice?" His voice wavered, disbelief coloring every syllable. "You put yourself in danger, you took risks that could’ve—" He cut himself off, running a shaking hand through his hair.

You knew he was struggling to keep his composure. To hold back the fear that had transformed into anger.

And somehow, that hurt more than the words themselves.

"I did what I had to do," you said softly, but the words felt weak.

Spencer let out a sharp exhale, pacing now, hands gripping his hair in frustration. "God, you sound just like—" He stopped himself.

Your stomach dropped. "Like who?"

He didn’t answer. But he didn’t have to.

Maeve.

The name sat between you like an open wound, fresh and bleeding.

You sucked in a breath. "Spencer..."

"Don’t," he said again, but this time it wasn’t sharp—it was broken.

You wanted to reach for him, to tell him that this wasn’t the same, that he wasn’t losing you, that you weren’t her.

But the look in his eyes told you it didn’t matter.

He felt like he was losing you. And maybe, in a way, he already had.

“Tell me why you did it.”

The demand was quiet, but it didn’t lack force. Spencer had stopped pacing, his gaze pinning you to the spot.

You hesitated. He deserved an answer. You owed him that much.

But how could you explain it to him?

How could you put into words the way your stomach had twisted when you realized the danger—how it wasn’t a reckless decision but a necessary one? How could you explain that if you hadn’t done what you did, people would have died?

That he could have died?

You forced yourself to meet his gaze. “Because it was the only option.”

“That’s bullshit,” Spencer snapped. His voice was sharper now, cutting through the tension like a blade. “There are always options. You just didn’t trust me enough to find another one.”

Your throat tightened. “That’s not true—”

“Isn’t it?” He let out a bitter laugh, his eyes dark with something you couldn’t name. “You didn’t tell me. You didn’t talk to me. You just—just decided without even thinking about what it would mean for the rest of us.”

For me.

The words weren’t spoken, but you heard them anyway.

You took a step forward. “Spencer, I wasn’t trying to shut you out.”

“But you did.” His voice wavered. “You did, and now you’re standing here, acting like I’m the one being unreasonable for being angry about it.”

You flinched. “I don’t think you’re being unreasonable.”

“No?” His arms crossed tightly over his chest, his entire posture defensive, bracing. “Then why do you keep acting like this is something we can just move past?

Because you had to.

Because if you didn’t, if you stayed in this place of hurt and anger, you weren’t sure you’d ever come back from it.

But looking at Spencer now, at the way his hands were shaking, at the way his breath hitched when he tried to speak—you realized that maybe he wasn’t sure if he could come back from this either.

“I was scared,” you admitted. The words felt foreign, raw. “I knew what I was doing was dangerous, but it wasn’t about shutting you out, Spencer. It wasn’t about you.”

His jaw clenched. “That’s the problem, though, isn’t it?”

You frowned. “What?”

His voice was quieter now, but the anger hadn’t faded—it had only settled, simmering beneath the surface.

“I wasn’t part of the equation,” he said. “You didn’t think about what this would do to me. To the team. You just decided that you’d handle it alone.”

The words stung.

You wanted to argue. To tell him that he was wrong, that you had thought about him—about all of them.

But had you?

Had you really stopped, for even a second, to think about what it would feel like for them to watch you put yourself in danger without so much as a word of warning?

Your silence must have given you away because Spencer exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “That’s what I thought.”

“Spence, I—”

“You keep saying it wasn’t about me.” His voice cracked, and that was what finally shattered you. “But don’t you get it? It is about me. About all of us. About what happens when we lose someone else because they thought they could do it alone.”

He didn’t have to say her name.

The ghost of Maeve lingered between you, unspoken but deeply felt.

And now, you had wedged yourself into the same space—another person he cared about, another person who made a choice without him, another person who could have been taken away just as easily.

“I don’t want to lose you,” he whispered, and suddenly, it wasn’t anger in his eyes anymore. It was fear.

A deep, bone-deep kind of fear that made your chest ache.

You took a shaky breath. “You won’t.”

His lips pressed together in a thin line. “How can you be so sure?”

Because you weren’t.

And neither was he.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke.

The silence stretched between you, heavy and fragile, like a thread pulled too tight.

Finally, Spencer inhaled sharply and took a step back. It was small, barely noticeable, but it felt like a chasm opening between you.

“I need time,” he said.

Your heart clenched. “Spencer—”

“I need time,” he repeated, and this time, his voice was steady. Firm.

Final.

And then he turned, walking away before you could stop him.

You didn’t chase after him.

You didn’t call out his name.

Because for the first time since you had known him, you weren’t sure if he wanted to be caught.

And that?

That hurt more than anything else.

[little-jana]

"Caffeine and Affection"

Pairing: Spencer Reid x gn!reader

Genre: Fluff

Words: 2k

Warnings: excessive caffeine consumption, but otherwise pure fluff

Summary: For Valentine’s Day Spencer surprises you with a very special bouquet!

a/n: requested: yes! Thank you very much, hope you enjoy it!

The BAU ran on coffee.

At least, most of it did. Hotch practically had a coffee IV, Rossi wouldn’t touch anything under espresso-level strength, and even Spencer—who could rant about the adverse effects of caffeine for hours—drank coffee when cases ran late.

But you? You were different.

Your fuel of choice came in cans, not cups. Whether it was soda or energy drinks, you always had something sugary and carbonated in your hand. It had become part of your identity—something the team liked to tease you about but ultimately accepted.

Spencer, however, took a particular interest in your habit.

“You know,” he had told you one day, watching you crack open yet another can, “the excessive consumption of sugar and caffeine can lead to increased heart rate, insomnia, and dependency.”

You had grinned at him, unfazed. “Sounds like a problem for future me.”

He had sighed, shaking his head. “Future you is going to be very disappointed in past you.”

Despite his concerns, he never actually told you to stop. If anything, he seemed intrigued by your preferences—often asking which flavors you liked best, what brands you preferred, and even quizzing you on why you liked soda over coffee.

It was… cute.

Spencer had always been the kind of person who paid attention, but when it came to you, it felt like he noticed everything.

Which was why, on Valentine’s Day, when he approached your desk with a nervous expression and something hidden behind his back, you immediately knew he was up to something.

“Spence?” You tilted your head, setting down your can of soda. “What are you doing?”

His lips twitched in that shy, almost awkward way he did when he was nervous. “I, uh… got you something.”

Before you could respond, he revealed what he had been hiding.

It wasn’t flowers. It wasn’t chocolates.

It was a bouquet. But instead of roses or lilies, it was made entirely of your favorite sodas and energy drinks, all carefully arranged and tied together with a big, bright bow.

You blinked. Stared. Opened your mouth. Closed it.

Then, finally, you burst into laughter. “Oh my God, Spencer!”

His ears went a little pink. “I read that people appreciate personalized gifts, and I know you don’t really drink coffee, so I figured this was a more… suitable alternative.”

You reached out, taking the bouquet from him with wide eyes. It was surprisingly well put together—each can securely fastened with ribbon, the entire thing looking both ridiculous and oddly adorable.

“This is—Spencer, this is amazing.” You grinned up at him. “Did you make this yourself?”

He nodded, rubbing the back of his neck. “I had to look up a tutorial. It took longer than I expected.”

You could just picture him sitting at home, carefully arranging cans of soda into a bouquet, meticulously tying them together with absolute precision. The thought made your heart swell.

Without thinking, you threw your arms around him, squeezing tightly. “You’re the best.”

Spencer tensed for half a second before quickly melting into the hug, his arms wrapping around you just as firmly. “I’m glad you like it.”

You pulled back slightly, grinning. “Like it? Spencer, this is the most thoughtful gift anyone has ever given me.”

His smile was small but full of warmth. “Then it was worth it.”

You looked down at your wonderful bouquet and then back at him, your heart hammering a little harder than usual.

Maybe it wasn’t just the caffeine making it race.