little-jana

[little-jana]

"Hotch on the Line"

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x assistant!reader

Genre: fluff

Warnings: (inappropriate) work relationship, reader feeling embarrassed, wearing Hotch's clothes, some minor tension, teasing from Morgan

Words: 2.2k

Summary: The reader accidentally exposes their secret fling to Morgan with an inappropriate comment.

Aaron Hotchner prided himself on his ability to stay composed under pressure. He had led hostage negotiations, interrogated serial killers, and made split-second decisions that determined life or death. His control was unshakable.

Or so he thought.

Because right now—right now—his control was hanging by a thread.

It had started out as an ordinary morning. Well, as ordinary as it could be when he’d woken up with you in his bed.

You weren’t officially together, but your relationship was… complicated. You weren’t a one-night stand. You weren’t just a colleague. But neither of you had put a name to whatever this was, because there were rules—rules Hotch was usually a stickler for following.

But lately? The rules seemed to bend around you.

He sat on the edge of the bed, already half-dressed in his slacks and a white dress shirt, buttoning the cuffs. His phone vibrated on the nightstand, flashing Morgan. With a sigh, he grabbed it and answered.

“Hotchner.”

“Hey, Hotch. We might have something,” Morgan said. “Garcia pulled up financials from—”

Before Morgan could finish, the bathroom door swung open, and you strolled out, stretching your arms with a pleased hum.

“Morning, bossman,” you purred, voice thick with satisfaction as you padded barefoot across the room, wearing nothing but his dress shirt.

Hotch froze. His entire body locked up, his grip tightening around the phone.

You didn’t seem to notice his rigid posture. You just smirked, flopping onto the bed beside him, face down with a sigh. “Shame you had to get dressed already. I was really enjoying the view.”

Silence.

A dangerous silence.

Hotch turned his head just slightly, his jaw clenching as he met your gaze. His usually unreadable expression now had a very clear warning: Do not say another word.

But you, being you, completely missed it.

You rolled onto your side, propping yourself up on one elbow, and dragged your fingers lightly over the fabric of his sleeve. “Though, if you had stayed in bed, I might have—”

Hotch’s hand shot up in a wordless command for you to stop talking.

Your smirk faltered. Then, your eyes flicked down to the phone in his hand. Your stomach dropped.

“Oh my God,” you whispered, face draining of color.

And then—Morgan cracked up.

Through the speaker, his laughter was loud, unrestrained, and utterly disbelieving.

“Oh—oh, hell no,” Morgan wheezed. “No way. Am I interrupting something, Hotch?” More laughter. “Was that a woman I just heard? You? Having company? At this hour?”

Your entire body tensed in horror. “Aaron,” you whispered urgently. “I am so sorry.”

Hotch sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Oh, this is golden,” Morgan continued, clearly having the time of his life. “Wait—wait, don’t hang up yet—Garcia needs to hear this.”

“Morgan,” Hotch said sharply.

“Oh, come on, man! Do you know how big this is? You never—”

“Morgan."

Morgan was still laughing when he finally caught his breath.

“Man, I cannot believe this,” he said through chuckles. “Hotch, you gotta tell me—who is she? Who managed to crack the infamous stone-cold unit chief?”

Hotch’s silence was damning.

Then, in the background of the call, Morgan heard a very familiar, dramatic groan.

“Oh my God. This is so embarrassing. Just let me crawl into a hole and die.”

Morgan froze. His grin widened.

“…Oh, hell no,” he muttered under his breath.

Hotch pinched the bridge of his nose.

Morgan could barely contain his glee. “Wait a minute—was that who I think it was?”

Hotch didn’t answer.

“Oh, this is too good.” Morgan was practically buzzing. “That was her, wasn’t it? Your assistant? The one who flirts with you relentlessly?”

Silence.

Morgan burst out laughing again. “Ohhhh, this just made my whole damn week.”

Hotch’s jaw tightened. “Morgan.”

“No, no, no—let me just process this. You mean to tell me that the bubbly, giggly, pink-loving ball of sunshine that brings everyone coffee has you—Aaron Hotchner—wrapped around her little finger?”

Hotch clenched his jaw. “This conversation is over.”

“Oh, hell no, it’s just getting started.”

Hotch hung up.

Morgan just sat there, shaking his head in utter delight.

“This is golden."

You groaned again, dragging a pillow over your face. “I am never showing my face in the bullpen again.”

Hotch exhaled, amused despite himself. “You say that now.”

“I mean it, Aaron. The moment Morgan so much as smirks at me, I’m resigning.”

Hotch gave a small shake of his head, a smirk ghosting his lips. “We’ll see.”

---

You walked into the bullpen, dreading this moment. You kept your head down, gripping the files in your hands like a shield, moving toward your desk as discreetly as possible.

Morgan saw you immediately.

The second you stepped into his line of sight, his face lit up like it was Christmas morning.

“Ohhhh, look who decided to show up,” he drawled, leaning back in his chair.

You froze mid-step. Your entire soul left your body.

Morgan’s smirk widened. “What’s the matter, sunshine? You look a little flushed.”

Your grip tightened on the files. “I hate you.”

He laughed. “No, you don’t. But I gotta say—I never thought I’d live to see the day Hotch had a woman sneaking out of his house in his clothes.”

Emily and JJ, who had been within earshot, both snapped their heads around so fast you could swear you heard a crack.

“…I’m sorry, what?” Emily said, eyes wide.

“Hotch?” JJ repeated, blinking.

You made a strangled sound in your throat. “I quit.”

Morgan cackled, throwing his head back.

JJ turned to Emily, eyes still comically wide. “You don’t think—?”

Emily let out an exaggerated gasp. “Oh my God. Did we just learn Hotch has a secret woman?”

You spun on your heel immediately, marching back toward the elevators. “Nope. Nope, I’m done. I quit.”

Hotch, who had just stepped out of his office, took one look at you storming off and sighed, shaking his head.

Morgan turned to him, grinning. “Man, you gotta see this from my perspective. It’s hilarious.”

Hotch fixed him with a flat stare. “Not. A. Word.”

Morgan just smirked. “Sure thing, Hotch. Whatever you say.”

As you disappeared behind the elevator doors, Hotch sighed again.

He really should have known better.

[little-jana]

"Flirt Lines Are Open"

Pairing: Spencer Reid x reader

Genre: fluff

Warnings: use of Y/N, Spencer being a flustered and blushing mess, flirting, teasing from the team

Wordcount: 800

Summary: You work behind the scenes at the BAU. Every time Spencer calls you for information, it turns into a full-blown flirt fest.

You barely looked up from your multiple monitors as your phone buzzed on your desk. Without checking the caller ID, you already knew who it was.

You grinned, adjusting your headset before answering in your most sultry voice, “BAU Information Hotline, you’ve reached your number-one fan. How may I assist you, Doctor Reid?”

There was a pause, followed by the sound of Spencer clearing his throat. “You, uh—you really need to stop answering like that.”

“Oh, come on,” you teased, leaning back in your chair. “If I don’t flirt with you over the phone, how else am I supposed to keep you entertained in the field? What do you need, handsome?”

Across the bullpen, Emily and JJ exchanged looks. Morgan, who was within earshot of Spencer’s end of the call, slowly turned his head with an expression of pure amusement.

Spencer sighed but didn’t hide the tiny smile in his voice. “I need you to cross-check a list of known aliases for our unsub against financial records from the last six months.”

“Anything for you, genius,” you purred. “But if you wanted to hear my voice, you could’ve just said so.”

“(Y/N)…” Spencer warned, but you could hear the slight hitch in his breath.

Morgan’s eyebrows shot up, and he looked around the jet where several agents were now trying (and failing) to suppress their giggles.

“I mean, come on, Spence,” you continued. “You always call me first, even when I’m not the best person to ask. Is it because I have the best research skills, or because you just can’t resist the sound of my voice?”

“Both?” Spencer offered hesitantly.

You let out a dramatic sigh. “You really know how to make a girl feel special.”

Emily stifled a laugh by covering her mouth, while Hotch subtly shook his head as if resigning himself to the reality that this was just… how you and Spencer operated.

Morgan, however, was in full entertainment mode. “Oh, hell no,” he muttered under his breath, before turning toward Spencer with a smirk.

Spencer had turned red, holding the phone slightly away from his ear as if that would somehow make the situation less embarrassing.

Morgan leaned forward. “Pretty Boy, I never—ever—wanna hear that again.” He paused, then smirked. “Actually…?”

Spencer groaned and pressed the phone closer to his ear again. “Ignore him.”

“Oh, don’t worry, sweetheart,” you replied, clearly having heard Morgan. “I only have ears for you.”

Spencer let out a soft, almost pained laugh. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, you keep calling.”

Morgan shook his head. “I don’t know if I should be impressed or horrified.”

“I’d go with impressed,” JJ added, barely containing her laughter.

Spencer pinched the bridge of his nose. “Just—do you have the records?”

“Of course, Spence. I had them pulled up five minutes ago, but I was having too much fun hearing you squirm,” you admitted.

There was a chorus of “oohs” from the team as Spencer groaned again.

“You’re evil,” he mumbled.

“But you love it,” you teased.

Morgan leaned in once more, voice dripping with amusement. “Hey, (Y/N), when Pretty Boy gets back, you should tell him how much you love his brain.”

“I do love his brain,” you said easily. “And the rest of him isn’t bad either.”

Spencer, now completely red, abruptly ended the call.

The jet erupted into laughter.

---

When the team finally returned to Quantico, Spencer found you waiting at your desk, an innocent smile on your lips. “Hey, genius. Missed me?”

Spencer sighed, rubbing his face. “I have never been more humiliated.”

You grinned. “So, same time tomorrow?”

He huffed, but the small, fond smile on his lips gave him away.

Morgan walked past, clapping him on the shoulder. “Man, you’re so whipped.”

Spencer just shook his head. Maybe he was. But with you? He didn’t really mind.

[little-jana]

"Time, Space and Love"

Pairing: Spencer Reid x f!reader

Genre: fluff

Warnings: nerdy rambling, inaccurate Doctor Who facts, kissing

Words: 1.8k

Summary: Spencer takes his girlfriend to a Doctor Who convention, and she absolutely adores how excited he gets about his favorite things.

a/n: This was requested by anon! I apologize for any inaccurate doctor who facts! Enjoy!

You weren’t sure what was more entertaining—the Doctor Who convention itself or Spencer Reid in his element.

The second you walked through the convention center doors, he lit up like a kid in a candy store, his hazel eyes practically sparkling as he took in the crowd of cosplayers, booths filled with memorabilia, and life-sized replicas of the TARDIS.

“You know, Doctor Who first aired on November 23, 1963, the day after President Kennedy was assassinated,” he started, practically vibrating with excitement as he laced his fingers with yours. “The show was meant to be an educational sci-fi series, using time travel to teach kids about history and science.”

You grinned, squeezing his hand. “Spence, you’ve barely been here five minutes, and you’re already in full professor mode.”

His cheeks flushed. “Sorry! I just… I love this stuff.”

“I know,” you said, adoring the way his whole face lit up. “And I love how much you love it.”

His hand tightened around yours as he pulled you toward one of the booths. The display was filled with sonic screwdrivers, replica TARDIS keys, and various versions of the Doctor’s famous scarves and bowties. Spencer picked up a Fourth Doctor scarf, running his fingers over the soft wool.

“This is screen accurate,” he murmured, more to himself than to you. “The original scarf was made by Begonia Pope in the ‘70s, and legend has it that she was given too much yarn, so she just used all of it.”

You giggled, watching as he handled the scarf with such care. “You should get it.”

He hesitated. “Really? I mean, I don’t usually—”

“Spencer, you’re literally the biggest Doctor Who fan here. You deserve the scarf.”

His lips twitched in amusement, but he finally let the vendor ring it up. The moment he draped it around his neck, he looked so happy that your heart melted.

The day only got better from there. You followed Spencer through the convention, listening to him ramble about everything from Gallifreyan lore to the science behind the show’s theories. You didn’t care that half of it went over your head—you just loved watching him talk about something he was so passionate about.

When you finally dragged him away, it was to join a Q&A panel with past Doctor Who actors. You settled into your seats, and as the panelists spoke, Spencer whispered little tidbits of trivia in your ear. Normally, you might have hushed him, but here—here, where his passion was on full display—you let him talk. You let yourself soak in every word.

After the panel, you made your way to a life-size TARDIS replica. Spencer’s fingers trembled with excitement as he touched the blue wooden door. “It’s bigger on the inside,” he murmured, and you knew in that moment that this was magic for him.

In front of a full-size TARDIS replica, complete with flashing lights and the iconic VWORP VWORP sound effect, Spencer immediately pulled you inside, his excitement palpable.

“Okay, so in theory, if time travel was possible, it would likely involve some form of closed timelike curves, which are solutions to Einstein’s field equations—”

You reached up and kissed his cheek, stopping him mid-ramble. “I love you.”

He blinked, momentarily stunned, then softened. “I love you too.”

You laughed, looping your arms around his neck. “You know, I think I finally get why you love Doctor Who so much.”

“Oh?” His hands rested on your waist, tilting his head in curiosity.

“It’s about adventure, discovery… and love.” You smiled, pressing your forehead to his. “Kinda reminds me of you.”

Spencer’s breath hitched slightly, and for once, he was at a loss for words. Instead, he just kissed you, slow and sweet, right there inside the TARDIS.

“You know,” you said softly, reaching up to adjust his scarf, “I think the Doctor would love you.”

Spencer blinked down at you, taken aback. “Me?”

You nodded. “Yeah. You’re brilliant, and kind, and you see the universe in a way no one else does. If anyone deserves a ride in the TARDIS, it’s you.”

His throat bobbed, and he leaned down and kissed you again, right there in front of the TARDIS, surrounded by fellow fans. It was soft, reverent, filled with the same wonder he had for time and space itself.

When he pulled back, his cheeks were pink. “I think this might be the best day ever.”

And for that moment, time really did seem to stand still.

[little-jana]

Hiiii! What would you like to read more about? I'm looking for inspiration. 🪻

[little-jana]

"Pillow Talk"

Pairing: Spencer Reid x f!reader

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: post-smut, domestic intimacy, kissing, pillow talk, mentions of being naked, no smut

Words: 1k

Summary: After a passionate night together, you wake up wrapped in Spencer’s warmth.

The first thing you noticed was warmth.

Spencer’s warmth.

It surrounded you, wrapped around you like a cocoon, his body flush against yours beneath the tangle of sheets. His arm was slung low around your waist, fingers resting lazily against the dip of your stomach, his bare chest pressed to your back, his breath fanning softly against your neck.

It was a kind of warmth you could sink into.

A warmth that, if you let it, could make you never want to leave this bed again.

Last night.

The memory flickered through your mind, heat blooming in your chest.

It had been slow. Unrushed. Like time had stopped just for the two of you. Spencer had touched you like he was memorizing every inch of your skin, had kissed you like he was tracing poetry with his lips.

And now, in the early light of morning, that same warmth still lingered between you.

You exhaled softly, shifting slightly against him. The movement made Spencer stir, his grip tightening, pulling you just a little closer.

A low hum rumbled in his chest, sleep still thick in his voice. “You’re awake?”

You smiled, tilting your head slightly to look at him. His hair was a mess, curls wild and untamed from sleep, his face softer than usual, a sleepy haze still clinging to his eyes.

You resisted the urge to run your fingers through his curls. Barely.

“Mm,” you hummed. “I am now.”

Spencer let out a slow breath, nuzzling his nose against your shoulder, pressing a lazy, half-conscious kiss to your skin. “You should go back to sleep,” he murmured. “It’s early.”

You laughed softly. “You don’t even know what time it is.”

Spencer sighed, barely opening his eyes. “Based on the angle of the light, I’d say somewhere around 7:00 AM.”

You snorted. “Nerd.”

His lips quirked against your skin. “You like that I’m a nerd.”

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, yeah.”

A comfortable silence settled between you, his hand splaying lazily across your stomach, fingers tracing idle patterns against your skin.

Then—

“Last night was…” Spencer’s voice trailed off slightly, searching for the right words.

You turned in his arms to face him, raising an eyebrow. “What? You gonna say it was ‘statistically significant’?”

Spencer huffed out a sleepy laugh, shaking his head. “No.” His fingers brushed a strand of hair from your face. “It was perfect.”

Your heart fluttered.

The sincerity in his voice made something warm settle in your chest, a quiet kind of happiness filling every inch of you.

You smiled, reaching up to trace your fingers along his jaw. “Yeah,” you murmured. “It was.”

Spencer’s gaze softened, his eyes flickering between yours before trailing lower, down to your lips.

You knew that look.

Your stomach flipped.

Slowly, almost hesitantly, he leaned in, his lips ghosting over yours in a way that sent a shiver down your spine. It was different from last night—not filled with urgency or need, but something sweeter. Something deeper.

Like he was savoring the moment.

When he pulled back, he was smiling.

“You’re soft in the mornings,” you teased, tracing a finger across his collarbone.

Spencer smirked. “You weren’t saying that last night.”

Your face burned.

You let out a scandalized gasp, swatting at his chest. “Spencer!”

He just laughed, catching your wrist with ease and pressing a kiss to the inside of it, his lips lingering against your pulse.

The intimacy of it made your breath hitch.

Spencer’s gaze flickered up to meet yours, something unreadable in his expression.

“I like this,” he murmured.

You swallowed. “Like what?”

He shifted, pulling you closer so you were completely wrapped in him, tangled in warmth, in him. “Waking up with you,” he admitted. “Having you in my arms.”

You felt your heart skip a beat.

“Spence…” you whispered, your fingers curling around the fabric of the sheets.

Spencer sighed, his voice soft. “I mean it.”

You tucked your head against his chest, your cheeks burning, overwhelmed by how much you felt.

“I like it too,” you admitted. “More than I should.”

Spencer smiled against your hair.

Neither of you spoke for a while, just lying there, wrapped in each other, letting the morning stretch out between you.

Eventually, Spencer sighed dramatically.

“Unfortunately, the laws of time and societal obligations make staying in bed forever impossible.”

You groaned. “I hate the laws of time and societal obligations.”

Spencer grinned, pressing a lazy kiss to your forehead. “Me too.”

And for a little while longer, neither of you moved.

[little-jana]

"Comfort"

Pairing: Spencer Reid x f!reader

Genre: fluff

Warnings: mentions of period and vomiting, reader being in pain, use of Y/N

Words: 600

Summary: Crippling period cramps leave you weak and nauseous, and Spencer steps in to take care of you.

a/n: This was requested by anon! Thank you, enjoy!

The pain comes in waves, sharp and unrelenting, twisting your stomach into knots. It’s bad this time—worse than usual. You had barely managed to drag yourself from bed before the nausea hit, and now you’re curled up on the bathroom floor, weak and shivering.

The sound of your phone buzzing on the counter is distant, but you know who it is before even looking. Spencer.

You reach for it with trembling fingers, barely managing to press accept before whispering, “Hey.”

There’s a pause. “(Y/N)?” His voice is already concerned, picking up on the strain in yours. “Are you okay?”

You swallow hard, closing your eyes. “Cramps,” you murmur. “Bad ones.”

Spencer is silent for half a second—calculating, probably. “Have you taken anything? Are you drinking enough water? How’s your—”

You cut him off with a weak laugh. “Spence, I can’t even move.”

That does it. “I’m coming over.”

You try to protest, but the call has already ended.

Fifteen minutes later, your apartment door swings open—thank god you gave him a key—and the sound of hurried footsteps reaches your ears. “(Y/N)?”

“In here,” you croak.

Spencer appears in the doorway, eyes scanning you with full-blown concern. He doesn’t hesitate before kneeling beside you. “You look pale,” he murmurs, brushing damp hair from your face. “Have you thrown up?”

You nod weakly.

He exhales softly and, without another word, hooks his arms beneath you, lifting you as if you weigh nothing. “Let’s get you back in bed,” he says, voice gentle.

You don’t argue. You barely have the strength to keep your eyes open as he carries you, setting you down with the utmost care. The warmth of your blankets feels heavenly as he tucks them around you.

“I brought some things,” Spencer says, reaching into his bag. “A heating pad—it helps with uterine contractions. Ginger tea for nausea. And I picked up some electrolyte water in case you’re dehydrated.”

You blink up at him. “You’re amazing.”

A faint blush colors his cheeks, but he only smiles as he plugs in the heating pad, carefully placing it over your stomach. The warmth soothes the pain almost instantly, and you sigh in relief.

Spencer sits beside you, his hand resting lightly on your arm. “Do you need anything else?”

You shake your head, reaching out weakly. “Just stay?”

His expression softens. “Of course.”

He adjusts so that he’s sitting up against the headboard, letting you rest your head against his chest. His fingers stroke soothing circles against your back, and slowly, the tension in your body eases.

Spencer keeps talking—soft facts about serotonin levels and how warmth helps pain management—but his voice is low and lulling, and eventually, you drift into sleep, safe in the warmth of his arms.

[little-jana]

hii, I hope you're having an amazing day, I was wondering if u could write something related witg reader having her period and really bad cramps, vomits, which lead to not having the strength to move? and just spencer being a cutie.

just if ur comfortable writing it, if not there's no problem. I really love ur writing so yeah. take care of yourself and drink water !!

I feel this so much! I'm on my period right now and it's baaad😬 coming right up! 🩷 hope you're doing ok! 💝

[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 😂

Upgrade: march 19th ----> coming on friday wuhu

[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 😍😍