reidsgfbf

[reidsgfbf]

OH MY GODD GENUINELY SCREAMING RAHHHHH

kiss, kiss, fall in love.

tags: spencer reid x reader. making out. clothed grinding. what glasses!spencer deserved. a/n: i love whenever the camera angle shows just how FUCKED mgg’s eyesight is lmfao there are some scenes of glasses!spencer where you can see how thick the lenses are… i love him requested?: yep ! thank u so much for the request <3 requests are open !

Working as a Technical Analyst for the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit had its pros and cons. Having your own office was definitely a huge perk. He was only supposed to drop off your daily bagel and coffee. It was an act of service that your beloved boyfriend liked to indulge in. He was only here to make sure you’d eaten breakfast.

Like a ritual, he leans over your shoulder, your cheek turned toward him like second nature, as he gives you a soft, shy kiss.

“Thank you, darling.”

“You’re welcome,” he murmurs against your cheek, nose digging against your temple he breathes in the scent of you.

Without removing your eyes from your screen, you reach a hand up to give his cheek and jaw a loving caress. Curious fingers brush against plastic frames. You turn your attention to him in awe, “You��re wearing your glasses today!”

“Mhm,” he brings a finger up to fix his frames, almost bashful. “Ran out of contact solution.”

You take his face into your hands, forcing him to look into your eyes. “I love your glasses. You look so handsome, so beautiful.” You grin at the way his cheeks redden.

“Gimme a kiss?”

He eagerly dives in for one. A hand moves to cup the back of your head, tender in his affections. He lavishes attention on your top lip, moans, and then moves his focus to your lower lip. His tongue shy in the heat of your mouth. Spencer lets out another little moan, the sound of his near whimper making you stand.

From cheek to shoulder, you rub your thumb on his skin. You push him down onto the chair, his legs parting on instinct to make place for you. Knees digging against his thigh and hips, you make yourself comfortable on your throne.

“You’re so pretty,” he says up to you. Spencer’s lips are swollen and red, glistening with spit. His eyes are watery and hazy, his glasses fogged from the breath shared between you. His big hands grip your hips so tight you’re sure he’d wrinkle the blouse you picked for the day.

You bend down for another kiss, pressing your hips down at Spencer’s plea. He guides your hips down against his lap, you feel the zipper of his slacks press against the heat of your core. You’re wet, the room is hot, and Spencer’s mouth and tongue move to nip and kiss and lick along your chin and jaw.

As you grind down against his growing bulge, Spencer’s hands move to untuck your blouse from your pants. Gentle hands and curious fingers move beneath the fabric to feel your heated skin against his palm.

A commotion outside your office makes you stop the grind of your hips.

Spencer turns his head to the left, parting his lips from yours, a string of spit keeping you connected. With your foreheads pressed against each other, you put an ear out to listen on the other side of the door. You think you hear the familiar clicks and clacks of Penelope’s heels.

“I think I need to go,” Spencer sounds disappointed. You press a kiss on the corner of his lips.

Running your hands through his hair, you sigh. “Yeah, probably.”

He smiles up at you, eyes heavy-lidded in ecstasy, hands still caressing the skin of your hips.

He loves the feel of your hand in his hair. He loves the soft kiss you give the tip of his nose. He loves the way you fix his glasses, crooked and fogged up from the heat of your kisses. He loves you, and you love him. He feels it now as you smooth down the front of his button-up shirt.

You slowly stand from your place on his lap, fixing your pants that had ridden up and bunched at your thighs from your little session. You notice Spencer doing the same to his own.

He sniffs, standing, two fingers pushing his glasses more firmly up the bridge of his nose.

“One last kiss?”

You smile at his request, finger and thumb reaching forward to pinch his nose.

“You’re so cute.”

He taps his cheek twice in response.

[reidsgfbf]

do you ever think spencer ever dropped his gun whilst running and nearly shot himself? because i do and now i can't stop thinking about it.

[reidsgfbf]

under pressure || s. reid

description : in which reader forgets their weighted blanket, but spencer is more than happy to be their substitute

word count : 791 words!

notes : gn! reader, implied neurodivergent! reader, morgan gets bullied

Something you had always struggled with at work was understimulation. You never allowed yourself to stim, mostly for fear of judgement, but also because you feared it wasn’t professional for a seasoned BAU agent to stim in front of your coworkers.

Today was not that much different. After a quick bathroom break to stim happily now that you and the team were on the jet back to Quantico after a gruelling case in Denver, Colorado, you had returned to your spot on the sofa, rummaging through your go-bag to try and find your weighted blanket, only to remember you’d foolishly left it at home in your haste to get to the jet on time for the briefing after Hotch had called you about the case.

A little sigh escaped you. Luckily, most of the team were too preoccupied to hear your dismay; Hotch and Rossi sleeping, JJ and Emily playing snap on the games table, Morgan listening to his MP3 player and Spencer reading. It was him who heard your noise of consternation, and he looked up from his book. Upon seeing your perturbed expression, he closed it and inched out of his seat, approaching you.

“Are… you okay?” he asked, slightly nervously.

“I’m fine.” You told him, but it was clear he didn’t believe you.

Spencer raised a brow. “If you were fine, you wouldn’t have sighed like that. Now answer my question. Are you okay?”

Another sigh escaped you. “I forgot to pack my weighted blanket.” you admitted awkwardly. “I’m feeling really badly understimulated and I need some deep pressure.”

Spencer paused. “Deep pressure?” he repeated, momentarily dumbfounded before a bashful flush painted his cheeks pink. “Uh, would you like me to be your substitute?” he offered timidly.

You paused. Spencer Reid? Offering to be your weighted blanket? The opportunity was way too good to pass up.

“Yes.” you nodded in confirmation, moving to lie down on the sofa, and beckoning Spencer closer. He hesitantly did so, before pausing.

“Are you sure?” he asked, just to confirm. You rolled your eyes good-naturedly, but a small grin tugged at your lips.

“Just crush me, Dr. Reid.” you replied, so he gingerly laid on top of you. “Put more of your weight on me.” you ordered and he hesitated.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” Spencer protested shyly.

“Put your weight on me!” you laughed, and he did so after another moment’s hesitation, sensing that you really did need it. You relaxed under him as you felt his weight on you, a blissful smile on your face.

You murmured your gratitude, and promptly fell asleep under Spencer, who smiled in astonishment at how fast you’d succumbed to the Sandman. Though, admittedly, his eyes were getting heavy too… and your soft and slow breathing was lulling him to sleep… Surely you wouldn’t mind if he took a quick cat nap, would you? With that decided, he fell asleep too, his snoring mingling with yours.

Unbeknownst to the two of you sleeping beauties, the rest of the team had noticed what was going on, and even Hotch and Rossi had woken up. Morgan grinned.

“Oh, babygirl is going to flip if she doesn’t get any evidence of the two lovebirds snuggling.” he laughed, taking out his phone to take a picture, Emily following suit.

JJ rolled her eyes. “Leave them alone.” she scolded the two, with no real heat, as she too took out her phone and snapped a few pictures of you and Spencer slumbering together.

“Let them be.” Hotch, ever the hypocrite, added, as he also snapped a picture that may or may not eventually become his wallpaper for the next month.

It wasn’t until the plane was due to land that someone woke you and Spencer up, shaking your shoulders.

“Come on kids, the jet’s gonna land.” Rossi announced. Spencer blinked blearily as he slowly woke up, before jolting up and straddling you when he realised what position he’d woken up in. You did so too, accidentally smacking your forehead against Spencer’s making the both of you groan and hold a hand against your injured brows.

Morgan snorted. “You two really are made for each other. You’re both as graceful as baby deer on ice.” You and Spencer glared at the bald man, who raised his hands up in surrender.

“Shut it, baldilocks.” you grumbled tiredly and Spencer snickered, causing Morgan to fake a gasp of faux indignance.

“Agent.” Hotch scolded you, though there was a grin on his face.

“Sorry Morgan, for pointing out your shiny bald head.” you apologised half-heartedly, making the rest of the team laugh at Morgan’s affronted splutters. A little smile appeared on your face. Who knew forgetting your weighted blanket would lead to this?

[reidsgfbf]

stimuli

── spencer reid x reader | fluff | wc: 335

you were sitting at your desk in the BAU headquarters, typing up a report when spencer reid walked in, balancing a stack of files. he took his seat across from you, immediately launching into one of his typical rambles.

“did you know that heart palpitations can be triggered by a range of stimuli?” he began, “they can be caused by stress, caffeine, or even strong emotions. the body’s response is quite fascinating; the sympathetic nervous system activates, increasing the heart rate as if preparing for a fight-or-flight scenario, while the parasympathetic system works to slow it down.” you nodded, only half-listening as you focused on your work. morgan walked past with a mug of coffee and rolled his eyes, shaking his head slightly—here we go again.

“but what’s really interesting,” spencer continued obliviously, “is how our hearts can react to emotional stimuli. for example, being around someone you care about can cause your heart rate to spike. it’s a subconscious reaction, the body’s way of signaling attraction, i suppose.”

you glanced up, pretending to be interested, “really? that sounds… complicated.”

his eyes sparkled with enthusiasm. “it is! and i’ve noticed something peculiar. whenever i’m around you, my heart rate tends to increase. isn’t that intriguing? it’s like my body is reacting without my conscious input.”

fingers hovering above the keyboard, you stared. “hold on. spencer, are you saying your heart rate spikes when you’re near me?”

“yes,” he replied, as if discussing a scientific anomaly. “it’s a consistent observation— an autonomic response to the stimuli of your presence. must be some sort of psychological response.”

“…okay, i’m not an expert, but that might indicates that you have a crush on me.”

he blinked, cheeks flushing a deep red as he processed your words.

“…oh, i see. makes sense, come to think of it.”

before either of you could say more, you caught a glimpse of gideon standing in the doorway, watching the exchange with a knowing smile.

 fear-is-truth 2024 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.

[reidsgfbf]

THE VEST STAYS AWN!!

I am on my knees

[reidsgfbf]

me when i try and write anything remotely angsty on my period

breaking my own heart with this wip what is my problem

[reidsgfbf]

I WROTE AN OC X REID SOFT SLEEPY MORNING SMUT FOR THIS REASON!! I STRUGGLE WITH WRITING THE KINKY STUFF AS AN ASEXUAL!! MAKE THAT MAN SWOON OVER HIS PARTNER DURING SEX!!

i think as a fandom we need to make more smut fics with no kinks n pls hear me out it’s not boring i promise

there is nothing wrong with kinky sex (well..) but we need more smut where there is no “i’m gonna choke and handcuff you hahahaahah” what abt “wow i’m so insanely in love with you i need to be sooo close and sooo intimate with u in a situation nobody else gets to experience but me and you”

[reidsgfbf]

Only Need You For The Oxytocin- Emily Prentiss x fem!reader

CW: season 17 section chief Emily💋, stripper!reader, erm not everything Emily does is very legal but let us all close our eyes for the time being, interrogation, enemies to less than enemies. everybody is very flirty in government buildings where they should not be! handcuffs, smut, rough sex, power dynamics (dom!emily), bondage, thigh riding, light degradation, oral sex (em receiving), choking, semi public sex

Rossi tapped his fingers against the windowsill of an interrogation room, turning to face Emily beside him. “Some of the most psychopathic men have sat in the room and started to squirm after thirty minutes. She’s been sitting in there for two hours, unphased.

“She’s not a man,” Emily mumbled, watching the woman on the other side of the glass with squinted eyes. ”I’m going to talk to her.” Emily perked up, finally growing impatient. Grabbing her jacket off the chair behind her, she slipped it on, knowing that Rossi had already turned down the thermostat in there.

"Prentiss, wait, we already drew up a profile. We won’t get anything out of her. She’ll just try to play with you.”

“Let her,’ she replied, leaving Rossi with a half-open mouth as she dipped inside the interrogation room, shutting the door behind her.

“Oh, you’re a new one.” You smiled at the older woman who had finally walked into the room, alluding to the three other agents who had entered hours ago and quickly left. “Shame, Agent Jareau and I were having a grand old time. You could be fun too,” you commented, eyeing her up and down as she introduced herself.

Emily cleared her throat, choosing to ignore your comments. “I’m SSA Emily Prentiss with the BAU. Do you know why you’re here today?”

You tilted your head, feigning confusion. “Because your team wanted to have a little chit chat?”

“Bullshit, you’re too smart for this. You know why you’re here.” Ignoring the chair across from you, she opted to sit against the edge of the table. I’ve already talked to just about everyone else in your club and every other one in the city, for that matter, and they all came to one conclusion. If I needed information, you would have it. She explained calmly yet sternly as she swept her arm toward the door.

You sighed as you rested your tilted head on your palms. “You speak like this is an expectation from me, yet your men dragged me in from the parking lot on the way out of my shift and didn’t tell me anything until I was sitting in your interrogation room, like I’m the one running around committing crimes,” you said pointedly. “And don’t think I didn’t realize your old friend out there was lowering the thermostat, thinking it would get me to tell you whatever you wanted; I’m barely wearing any fucking clothes; of course I’d notice when it drops a few degrees.”

A sense of unease flashed across Emily’s face as she felt slightly guilty. She had come in headstrong, and you were right, without knowing how you ended up here in the first place. She was still standing in a room across from you, who was already on edge, so instead of rewinding, she doubled down. “So now what? You’re not going to give us the information we need to stop a serial killer because you’re offended,” she scoffed, crossing her arms across her chest.

You just stared, watching the woman. She wore a gold watch, its face sitting on her inner wrist, which clinked against her belt buckle lightly every time she dropped her hands to her side. Underneath a long red coat that you desperately wished to be under right now, her outfit was sleek and simple: black pants, thin gold jewelry, and a black blouse with newly undone buttons. Your eyes froze on her shirt, your lips pressing into a smile."Really? Two hours of you and your team of profilers brainstorming, and the best you could come up with was that I would spit out all my information if you sent a woman twice my age in to what exactly, seduce me?” Emily looked caught off guard, and you tipped your head toward her chest. “You’re wearing three fewer buttons than when I watched you walk by this room earlier when Luke left, and a fresh coat of lipgloss.”

Emily held up her hand, leaning in closer over the table. "Okay, I get it—not the correct strategy.”

“No, you had my weaknesses spot on; just use them in a bar or a date, not an interrogation room. I’m not that gullible.” You smirked, enjoying watching Emily’s panic level rise, and then her eyes narrowed as a giggle escaped you.

Emily finally took the seat across from you, resting her forehead in her palm. “You’re giving me a headache.”

She heard you shuffle, reaching underneath the table, and eventually looked up when you tossed a pack of cigarettes and a lighter in front of her. She suddenly snapped up in attention. Where did you get those?”

You shrugged, picking one up. “I had them on me.”

“They didn’t search you when you came in?”

You shook your head, going to light one until Emily snatched in from between your fingers. “Stand up,” she directed, dragging two fingers upward through the air as she made her way around the table. You heard her mumble something under her breath, unable to distinguish any of it other than something about doing everything herself around here.

Her hands slid delicately down your sides and along the side seams of your clothes. She hesitated at the sensation of her hands brushing against your bare waist. Clearing her throat, she removed her hands. “Moving on, I need the list of Claire Demont’s regulars; I know she handed the list down to you.”

“I don't feel entirely obligated to help you. Claire has done a lot for me. Men have done a lot of shitty stuff to her. I’m not saying murder is ever the answer, but I don’t doubt that there's a reason for her rage. Can I go home now? Last time I checked, I wasn’t guilty of anything.” You stretched back over the metal frame of the chair, waking up your stiff muscles.

“No yet, but we do have a 24-hour hold because my team is under the very strong impression that you have information regarding the case.” Emily began to trail off upon seeing your disinterested demeanor and knew she wouldn’t be getting through to you. “Look, I can’t get you out of here; the best I can offer you is that we talk in my office instead, but I better be leaving with the list of names, no exceptions, got it?”

“Fine,” you got up slowly, demonstrating restraint to hide your eagerness. Before you could breathe deeply about your new slight ounce of freedom, the agent’s hands were enclosed around both your wrists, swiftly moving them behind your back. A short gasp of shock left your lips as you recognized the cold metal rings that clicked around your wrist. “I thought you said I was under arrest,” you muttered, irritated.

Emily’s chin hovered just above your shoulder as she whispered slowly in your ear, “You’re not; that was just for my entertainment.” A soft chuckle escaped her as she pulled away. Looping her fingers around the chain connecting your wrists, she tugged lightly, directing you toward the door.

Emily stepped outside much more composedly than you when you came face-to-face with three security guards outside the room. Emily knew they would be the only ones left in the building; no other agents remained, and they did not alarm her.

You heard a soft noise from over your shoulder, something you couldn’t make out but clearly Emily had. Turning your head, you found a man’s eyes roaming down your skin, almost greedily. Within seconds, Emily had dropped her coat off her shoulders and draped it over your shoulders. Pulling it closed around you, it hung down almost your entire body. Without a comment, her hand naturally fell down by her badge, and she gave a soft nod as she passed by the remaining guards, giving them no reason to question her authority.

Your heart rate sped up the farther you made it down the hallway; its loud beating suddenly became very evident beneath your chest. Peeking a glance over at Emily, she seemed collected and undeterred as she led the way to her office.

Stepping into her office, you immediately opened your mouth to speak. Before you could get a word out, Emily’s hand was over your mouth as you were pressed up against the wall beside her door as she locked it and pulled down the blinds. She eventually dropped her hand, narrowing the space between you slightly with the tilt of her head. “You’re not very good at this, are you?” She smirked before reaching over your waist to undo the cuffs, then looped them back around her belt. “Sit down,” She tossed her hand out across the office as her eyes scanned the rows of shelves lining the back of the room. You took a seat on the edge of her desk, right across from her chair. She pivoted around on her heel, setting a pen and piece of paper next to you. “Names,” she said, tapping the blank sheet with her nail.

You sighed under your breath but picked up the pen anyway, twirling it in between your fingers. Emily slid herself between her chair and your legs, dangling off her desk, before sitting back. ”Just so you know, I never knew all of Claire’s clients. When she left, she only gave me a handful of regulars' names to pass on to me.”

“That’s fine. The more she interacted with them, or the bigger impression she made on them, the more likely these men were to be targets. Do you know if she slept with any of them?”

“No, she never slept with clients, and despite contrary belief, neither did I,” you clarified, narrowing your eyes into a warning glare.

“I never said that,” Emily corrected, her voice remaining low and even throughout every interaction. “Sometimes it's just helpful to know because a man’s sex life can often tell you a lot about him.”

“If that's the information you need, you don’t need a profiler to find that out. You just need a little attention to things other than the physical act of sex.” You flipped the piece of paper in your lap around so the names were facing Emily as your pen rolled down the list. “These three are married and always want to give up control. They crave attention from the dancers but don’t do anything to draw it to themselves. They don’t demand anything; they want you to come to them. And the next handful of names have been single almost their entire lives. Most of them are possessive, and they want to spend the most time with you. They’ll tell you exactly what they want from you. Those men are typically the ones who will pay for a lap dance or two.”

Emily looked up at you, curious and slightly impressed. “You can tell me all that from a few minutes of interaction?” She asked skeptically. Your eyes skipped to the slight movements of her body, her thighs tensing against the tight fabric of her pants, and her ringer fingers closing against her palms as they rested at her side.

“Almost always, it's quite straightforward to discern if a partner is going to be possessive, controlling, desperate, or possessive.” You selected your words carefully, letting them hang in the silence between the two of you almost tauntingly.

Clearing her throat, Emily shook her head softly, causing a strand of silver hair to fall from her shoulder. “I’m not sure I believe you.”

Without thinking, you slipped off her desk with languid movements, finding yourself hovering over her with knees on each side of her body. You leaned away from her, back arching, so you were suspended over the air in front of her. Within seconds, Emily’s hands grasped at your hips, pulling you farther into the chair. It wasn’t an act of politeness to keep you from falling; it was lust-filled, her bruising grip not lessening or pulling away like two strangers should. Lifting your fingers, you brushed the collar of her shirt out of the way, pressing two fingers to the warm skin beneath her collar bone. Smirking, you felt her skin pulsing against you rapidly—the telltale sound of her racing heart. Tucking her fallen hair behind her ear, you whispered softly and sweetly. “ Just proved it.”

You lifted yourself off of her, starting to climb back down, before her firm grip pulled you forcefully back onto her lap. Her hands slid up her back, fingers playing with the zipper that held your top together teasingly. “Ah, finish what you started, doll.” She positioned you how she wanted to, her thigh between your legs with your hands draped over her shoulders. Her nails trailed down your legs, leaving light red scratches as she tore through your thin fishnet stockings.

Her lips latched to the side of your neck, sucking bruises of red and bluish hues down to your collarbone. Her sudden tightening grip made you suck in a gasp midway through ridding her of her own shirt. “Ride.” With one hand on your waist and the other clinging to the curve of your ass, she started the rocking motion. She flexed her toned thigh, holding you roughly down on her thigh, so every slight movement initiated by her stimulated your clit through the thin fabric between you.

The fact that your breathing was already breaking into stuttered sharp inhales simply from riding her thigh had your face burning. In an attempt to hide the fact, you buried your face against her shoulder, turning away from her unwavering gaze.

She brought your rocking to a halt, stopping to rest a hand on the base of your neck until you had to pull back upright to breathe deeply enough for the stars in your vision to disappear. “Eyes on me,” she corrected without additional comment before continuing her motions.

Sensing you were close to falling apart for her, she tugged your panties to the side, pressing the pad of her thumb to your clit. “Fuck,’ you trembled against her strong frame. The older woman’s eyes suddenly darted over your shoulder, and she quickly brought her hand from between your legs up to your mouth, pushing two fingers coated in your arousal past your lips.Sensing a noise behind you, your eyes widened in fear, realizing she had given you her fingers to keep you quiet.

There was a knock on the door, and Emily didn’t appear to be as alarmed as she should be, in your opinion. “Get under my desk and stay quiet.” She husked directly in your ear, nudging you down onto your knees in front of her, and she called out. “Come in,”

Anderson entered, swiping his badge to unlock the door. “Hey, Agent Prentiss. I just noticed your light was still on and wanted to make sure everything was okay. It’s getting late.”

“I’m good, Anderson, thanks.” She smiled softly as she thanked him. Her eyes fell coolly to the papers you had scattered across her desk from sitting on it. “I’m just finishing up some case files. I’m a bit behind at the moment.” Emily shuffled forward in her chair in an attempt to hide you if Anderson stepped any closer.

Sensing that he seemed to want to linger for a moment, you reached towards Emily’s zipper, her belt already on the floor beside you from your flurry of undressing earlier. Her hands engulfed your wrists, but after a minute of protesting, she had to lift her hand back up to avoid looking like she was fighting something under the table. The opportunity for payback was being handed to you on a silver platter.

Her voice spiked up an octave as her legs clenched over your ears. Unperturbed, your tongue traced along her slit as she kept up with Anderson’s casual conversation about work and what she did when she wasn’t at the office. Her hands dropped lightly into her lap and beneath the view of her desk, but unbeknownst to the man rambling to her, she had her hands gripping at your hair, tugging harshly as your tongue swirled around her clit. She resisted the urge to look down just briefly to catch a glimpse of her arousal smeared across your mouth, hair mussed from her touch.

You picked up your pace as you heard Ansderson start moving back toward the door, which left Emily’s legs quivering as she climbed toward an orgasm with every lap and flick of your tongue. The second the door was locked behind the security guard, Emily’s hands found the back of your head, nudging your mouth into her cunt. “Fuck, you better let me come on your mouth after that little stunt, sweetheart.”

You grinned up at her from the floor, a mischievous look in your eyes as you delved back into her cunt, wrapping your lips around her clit as she moaned while orgasming on your tongue. She panted as she came back down from her high, slouching back into her chair and spreading her legs. She helped you up off the floor, fixing you up before yourself.

In the middle of it all, you picked up a pink sticky note and pen off her desk, scribbling something down. Emily’s eyes narrowed as you held out the sheet. “What is this? You were supposed to give me all the names already.”

“I did,” you said, rolling your eyes at her assumption. "This is the club address, and when I work, Stop by sometime; you do still owe me an orgasm,” you pointed out with a grin.”

“Mhm,” her eyes widened at your boldness as she held one knuckle to her lip, hiding her soft, sly grin. ”Well, I risked my job because you're a desperate little thing, so I think you owe me about three. I thought you didn’t sleep with clients.”

You shrugged and started heading for the door. “Well, there's a first time for everything, or maybe I’m just making an exception for you,’ you teased," she said, pivoting around to return her coat on her arm that you had forgotten about for a brief second.

She gave you a small head tilt. “Keep it; I’ll see you shortly anyways,’ she suggested, and you just dropped your head slightly, smiling on your way out.

"Have a good night, Agent Prentiss.”

[reidsgfbf]

ive got quite a few... but we will start off simple and with something ive been DAYDREAMING about for a while

so reader is a new forensic scientist that started a lab in office for easier analysis of evidence (garcia reasonablism and best friendedness obviously) and earlier seasons reid likes to go in and hang out with her often and just be with her and they are both idiots in love and the first kiss is super rushed and akward; TEETH ROTTING FLUFF

i am too cryptic i fear but i will sell my left kidney for this fic PLEASE

spencer reid x forensic scientist!reader. fluff. 1.4k words. s1 spence!! descriptions of a case (typical cm stuff). std discussion? sorta? it's about a victim. reader doesn't have one don't worry. they're nerds your honour. 

a/n: i am SO sorry this took me so long?? writing fluff is not my strong suit (clearly). i researched bacteria for this fic. and std's. if penelope garcia looked up my search history she would ask why i'm asking about how to treat chlamydia. if the science talk is wrong, no it's not this is MY alternate reality. also i am but a wee acting major i know nothing about science? ANYWAYS thank u for the request angel it was so fun to write i hope i did it justice ♡ 

"Hey... I brought coffee."

Your head lifted from the computer screen you had been staring at for the past hour and a half, blinking your eyes to readjust to a light that wasn't blue — you were a big believer in warm toned overhead lights or nothing, and it was your first order of business upon getting a lab in the Quantico building. 

Your eyes softened upon recognising the man in your doorway, and your hands outstretched towards him to take the paper cup from him. 

It was a particularly gruelling case — a man putting victims through a meat grinder (charmingly so) meant your ability to positively ID victims based on... well, anything you'd usually ID them on, was out of the question. You were down to tampered with blood samples, and you were getting nothing. 

"Angel. Sent from heaven, I swear," you said, taking a sip of the warm, sweet (because anybody who drinks coffee black should be locked up) beverage that would help you in the long run. Spencer Reid's lips twitched into a smile — anxious, like the rest of him usually is whenever he's in your lab — and he dropped his gaze to the floor with a small shrug. 

"I thought you might need it. I know it's hard. This case," he said, and you nodded your head with an affirming nod.

"Tell me about it," you mumbled, spinning around in your chair, back to your computer, waving him over. "See this?" you pointed to the list of findings in one of the samples.

Your breathing hitched when you felt him behind you, not expecting him to be so close, his own breath audible by your ear. 

He hummed quietly as he read through the list, and you turned your head to the side to look at him. His lips were pulled into a frown as you watched him register everything — and God, was he pretty. "Yeah... Salmonella, Enteritidis, Listeria... they're all bacteria you can find in chicken. Raw chicken, to be precise. Did they send you chicken blood by mistake?" 

"That's what I thought," you said, snapping out of your Reid-induced-haze, and clicked at your computer until you pulled up another list. "But then I found these as well; Streptococcus mutans, Porphyromonas gingivalis, Fusobacterium and Lactobacillus. From the same sample. And I cross-checked it with all of them, and they're all like that. So I sent that to Garcia and asked if she could do some looking into butcher shops in the area, and she came up empty. So now I'm at a loss."

"Weird," he murmured, leaning further forward over your shoulder to stare at the screen a little more intently, and you found your breath hitching at it. Again.

"What do you see?"

"Chlamydia trachomatis."

"Oh. Yeah, all of the samples have it," you explained, and he nodded his head, before turning it to look at you. 

"Well, what do you do when you have a sexually transmitted disease?" he asked.

"Me? I don't—I don't know. I've never had a—" you cut yourself off when you saw his lips twitch into a smile, and your brain caught up with what he had just said, and your lips parted in an 'o' shape in realisation. "You'd go to your doctor."

"And if they all have it, then that means that—"

"—it's the UnSub whose got it," you cut him off, eyes lighting up as you sat up straighter. "Oh my God, I don't know how I didn't make that connection. Spencer Reid I need to reiterate that you are an angel sent from the heaven above, I could kiss you."

His eyes went wide, and his entire being froze, followed swiftly by you yourself freezing too, words you let spill past your lips registering a second too late. 

He stared at you. You stared at him. It was an awkward game of who would look away first, and it went on for hour long minutes. You needed to clear your throat but refused to, your lips opening and closing as you searched your brain for something �� anything — to say to break up this tension.

"Are you serious?"

It was a meek whisper, and had you not been so hyper focussed on his lips, you probably would've missed it. You forced your gaze up to his eyes, catching the red tinge on his cheeks, mirroring your own. You decided if the one in a billion chance of a black hole swallowing the earth decided to happen now, you wouldn't complain.

"I mean, no," you force past your lips. A sentence you soon sorely regret when you watch a flicker of what you recognise to be hurt flash across his face. Maybe your brain made that expression up. Maybe it didn't. If it did, it was too late to consider that option, because you were already rambling again. "Unless you want me to be serious. In which case yes, I am totally serious. If not, then I'm not."

His eyebrows furrowed in confusion, and an embarrassingly nervous laugh left your lips. 

"Yes. I'm serious," you finalised. Because at least if he found that embarrassing and didn't feel the same back, you could kick him out of your lab and avoid him until you manage to swap units. Or move halfway across the world. Whichever came first.

Neither needed to come first, it seemed. Because his tense body shifted, turning to face you, his own eyes seemingly locked on your lips, the same way yours were only minutes prior. 

"Is it okay if I..." he trailed off, a hesitant hand reaching up to your face, waiting for your confirming nod before his fingertips relaxed on your cheek. You weren't even kissing him yet, and you already felt that nervous-excited mix pooling in your stomach.

He was in the same boat as you, his own breathing hitching when you didn't pull away instantly from his touch. But then he simply stared at you, for maybe a minute too long, because an exasperated sigh left your lips before you could stop it.

"You know, you actually have to put your lips on mine to kiss, Spencer," you say, and though your intent wasn't to fluster him, you did. 

"Yes, I—um, I know. I've just never... what if I screw this up?" he stammered, and your lips pulled into a smile. 

"Worst thing you can do is be a bad kisser."

"That's embarrassing."

"Just a little," you agreed with a nod, watching his face fall, and you laughed at the expression. "I'm kidding. It's not that hard, and you're good at everything."

"Not this."

"You don't know that."

He fell silent, and you knew you had won the verbal argument — he was certainly still disagreeing in his mind, but he was always good at picking his battles. 

But you knew he was never going to kiss you first. Not when one hand was flexing weirdly by his waist, unsure of what to do with it, and he was so awkwardly holding one cheek with the other. 

It was the only reason why you placed two palms on his own cheeks and pulled his face towards you. He let out a shocked yelp that had you laughing for only a second, cutting the sound off short with your lips on his. 

Spencer Reid was in fact good at everything. 

He was hesitant at first, and you wondered if he was ever going to kiss you back. But he did, and then you wondered if he was lying about never kissing anybody before.

Because he was insanely good, and the way he kissed you was maddening and addictive and it seemed you were (addictive) as well, for he was chasing your lips even when you tried to pull away. So you didn't, and instead allowed him to keep kissing you with so much pace and force you thought you'd break. 

"Spence... can't... breathe," you gasped out, and he pulled back in an instant, his eyes going wide. 

He was stammering out apologies that fell on deaf ears, because you were staring at him and he was gorgeous. In every sense of the word. With hair that had fallen into his glassy eyes, cheeks as pink as his lips that were screaming to be kissed again, need for oxygen be damned. 

And actually, if the one in a billion chance of a black hole swallowing the earth decided to happen now, you would complain. Very loudly.

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated dearly ♡

[reidsgfbf]

additionally: this is the reason why reid rarely gets paired with teammates on cases, otherwise they all just freak.

though once reid and garcia got bunked together, and reid had a nosebleed at the same time garcia got her period. it was awkward, but hey, reid now knows more ways to get blood out of pillowcases, sheets and duvets.

random headcanon number whatever: reid gets ridiculous nosebleeds. often in his sleep. he forgets to mention this to the team until one time it happens while he’s bunking with Morgan and gives him the shock of his life when he wakes up looking like he ate someone.

[reidsgfbf]

Soft snores came out of Spencer’s mouth as he lay beside you, deep in sleep. His arm was draped over you and his fingers had a light grip on your shirt, even in his sleep he needed to be latched onto you like a baby koala in some way.

You were reading a book and usually needed complete silence in order to focus on the words, but the sounds emitting from Spencer were more like white noise rather than something that bothered you. Maybe it was light enough to the point that it didn’t bother you or maybe you were just so head over feels for him that anything he did made you fall for him deeper.

Occasionally Spencer would open his eyes and quickly skim over the page to keep up with what you were reading. Even if the plot wasn’t something he was keen on he’d still take the time to read through it as he wanted to be up to date with your interests. Lord knows how many times he’d kept you up late at night talking about a new scientific journal he’d flipped through and knowing it wasn’t something you’re quite interested in, but you still listened to him and he wanted to return the favor.

Spencer would mumble out the lines he was reading and from the corner of your eye you saw his lips move along. His hand would reach up and rest on the back of your hand, his thumb lightly caressing the skin. It felt like he was tricking you to put the book down so you’d spend some time doting on him and you honestly wouldn’t mind. With his sleepy face and messy hair it was hard to ignore how adorable he looked and how he’d look even better with you snuggling in his arms.

Taglist: @radioactiveinvisible @whoisspence @sreidisms @lanascinnamongirls @luvkatryna @sp3ncelle @iluvreid @khxna @keiva1000 @reidstheyfriend @hiireadstuff @pleasantwitchgarden @cynbx @kimm4710 @niktwazny303 @reidsdaisies @mindfullycriminal @cumulo-stratus @themarauderseraslut @gayfor-rosadiaz @gubsbuubs @multifandomsimp69 @chyozai @deppfanatic @potatovoyager

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[reidsgfbf]

yeehaw

how spencer convinces reader to stay in rather than go out

MDNI | suggestive fluff!

word count: 1217

warnings & tags & stuff: I was picturing fem!reader, but can be read as gn!reader (i think?), def some nsfw descriptions of spence, all around suggestiveness, fade to black

author's note: second piece of writing yayy!!! this was originally gonna be smut but i got scared lol. anyway please lemme know your thoughts im DYING to improve. sooo yes i hope you have a wonderful day and here this is ig! 😚

Sitting alone in your room, you tugged on a pair of never-before worn cowboy boots. They were most definitely not broken in, and you knew you were in for an uncomfortable night of baby blisters on the bottoms of your feet. However, life is full of compromises, and these were too cute to pass on.

Especially for a night of line dancing with your boyfriend’s coworkers. Who knew that FBI agents got down like that?

You stand and plug in your earbuds, choosing to absolutely blast ‘Fearless (Taylor’s Version)’ by Taylor Swift. Also known as the only tolerable country music.

Dancing out to the kitchen, you wrap your arms around your lovely boyfriend who was preparing a cup of tea, absolutely not dressed for a night of country conviviality. Spencer looks you up and down, a teasing smile playing on his face.

“Hey cowgirl,” he says, gently removing your earbuds. “Penelope has been texting me on average every 10 minutes about how excited she is for tonight. I hope you’re ready.”

“Oh god,” you laugh. “I wish you were coming too.”

“I know. But that sounds awful,” he says in his matter-of-fact way. “Hey, I do have something for you,” he mentions. You look up at him, and he runs quickly upstairs to grab his bag. He comes down and brandishes his very own cowboy hat. “From the times Penelope didn’t have you to drag along with her and I was her chosen victim.”

“For me?” You ask excitedly. He puts it on you. Although it’s a little big, it 100% completes the look. You look up at him. “Think I would make a good cowgirl?” He peers down at you, trying to tell if you’re joking.

“No,” He goes the serious route and you furrow your brow at him. “You hate the dirt. And the heat,” he explains, emphatically defending himself.

“I guess you’re right. I don’t really do well with horses either,” you murmur.

“You do make a cute cowgirl for the night though, even if it’s not your true calling.” He ruffles your hat.

“Yeah?” You smile. “It’s not too much with both the boots and the hat?”

Spencer blinks.

“Have you met Penelope? She always has a lot going on. More than this.”

You giggle.

“They’ll all adore you, JJ, Emily,” he reassures, stroking the side of your waist.

You had known Penelope for a few months, ever since you started dating Spencer. But you had yet to meet the rest of the girls on his team. You were definitely excited, they seemed really cool. But you were definitely also nervous.

Spencer, jarring you from your thoughts, whips out his very outdated phone that he somehow still manages to operate, and opens the camera.

“Smile.” You do so, showing off all your teeth. You move to look at the picture, and Spencer tilts the screen toward you. “See? Adorable.”

You stand on your tippy toes for a kiss, and he complies quickly. A little too quickly to not have any meaning behind it. Your eyes flit down, and you notice a slight bulge in Spencer’s pants that wasn’t there a few minutes ago.

You raised your eyebrows and looked up at him. “Can I convince you to stay?” He whispers, half smiling. You tilt your head.

“Maybe” you say shyly.

“What if I told you that the chances are slim to none that you are actually going to line dance tonight? Penelope and JJ always end up sitting at the bar, and Emily always gives up half a song in and joins them. Without fail,” he says. You purse your lips, heart beating a little faster for whatever reason.

“That could still be fun,” you reason.

“Not in those shoes,” he says, rubbing your hip softly. “I know they must hurt; they’re brand new and you’re already shifting your weight between your feet much too frequently.”

You look down at your feet. He was not lying. “You’re too observant. This is why you basically always have your way with me.” You exhale.

“By caring about you? I could keep going. I know that you hate country music. And no, Taylor Swift does not count. She’s an outlier. And she was born in Pennsylvania. That’s barely real country music. You’d be miserable all night.”

“Yes, you would know about ‘real’ country music, Mr. Las Vegas,” you counter.

“That would be Dr. Vegas to you,” he quips, bending down once again and giving you a kiss. You reciprocate, kissing the corner of his mouth. “What if I told you I really wanted you to stay? Bad?”

“Bad? I guess I’ll stay, if it’s bad. But you have to be the one to text Penelope,” you say begrudgingly. As if you weren’t as releived as can be. And as if Spencer didn’t know that.

He smiles and allows his arms to wrap around your waist. Spencer’s kisses become slower, you could feel every aspect of them. His lips, of course, but also his stubble. The air being pushed out of his nose. The hand swiping it’s typical resting spot, your cheek. His tongue delicately tracing your mouth. It all feels so calculated for you, so measured.

And you, on the other hand, are a mess, trying to keep up. Your heart is pounding and you’re sure your face is noticeably hot. And by the time Spencer leads you to your room and sits you down on the bed, its temperature has only increased.

You kick off your boots. He sits next to you, his hands holding your waist, ever so firm. He brings them up, thumbing the inside hem of your tank top.

“All good?” He checks.

“Yeah,” you say, head spinning with all the good chemicals.

“Deep breaths for me, okay? Gotta keep your blood flowing appropriately,” he reminds you, leaning back and taking you in. “Pretty girl.” You blush and his hands move to your lower back over your tank top, delicately brushing over in a way that gives you goose bumps. You shiver.

His eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “You’re sensitive in your lower back. God, there’s still so much more to learn about you.” He breathes out.

“Good. I was scared you’d get bored, with your perfect memory and all,” you joke.

“Bored? The human brain is limitless. Your brain is limitless. I wanna know everything I possibly can that goes on up there. Everything that makes it feel good. It’s the least boring thing I can think of.” You blush and look down.

You lean in for another kiss, this time to his jawline and neck. Your hands slide up his stomach under his shirt a little and and you look up to him.

“Okay?” This time you ask.

Spencer nods. “Okay.” Your hands trace up under his own shirt, and you immediately lean in to kiss him, holding his chin.

All of a sudden he’s everywhere. Even sitting next to you, he manages to take over every ounce of your body. He’s kissing your mouth and forehead and cheeks, one hand is holding your face, and the other is mapping your stomach.

“Can we try something new then? If we wanna do and learn everything?” You whisper. One quick tête-à-tête later, you’re sitting on his lap, shifting your hips softly as he held your waist for you.

“I guess I was wrong. You’re gonna be an amazing cowgirl.”

[reidsgfbf]

Sweater Weather

pairing: spencer reid x reader

summary: "want to warm up?" he gestured to the hem of his sweater with a hint of concern in his eyes.

genre: fluff

word count: 1k

author's notes: i'm back with another spencer fic! i miss my baby and his fluffy sweaters so much i had to write about it. also posted on ao3 (spencereids).

HE BAU HUMMED WITH THE GENTLE WHOOSHING OF THE HARSH AIR CONDITIONER, THE FLUORESCENT LIGHTS CASTING A BRIGHT PALLOR OVER EVERYTHING. You huddled deeper into your thin knitted sweater, the thin material a weak attempt at shielding yourself against the bone-deep chill. You blame it on the current heat wave the Quantico area is facing these days . You would've opted for thicker clothing to adequately face the onslaught of the office's air conditioner, if not for the debilitating heat you'd suffer from once you've stepped foot outside of the building. You sighed , climate change sucks ass.

Today was a slow day—or at least compared to your usual at the BAU—there was no new case. Thankfully. Maybe serial killers do know how to take breaks from time to time; unfortunately for federal agents, breaks were uncommon. If you weren't out chasing whatever criminal who spawned at the most random backwoods in the country, you were stuck at your desk poring through case files, the only sound competing with the monotonous drone of the ventilation system.

A sliver of envy pricked at you as you stole a glance at Spencer, perched on his chair like a Greek statue sculpted from focus. He seemed impervious to the cold in a yellow button-down and his thick-knitted maroon sweater. He was a beacon of warmth and comfort in his thick sweater as if to mock your lack of layers fending the chilliness in the BAU that could practically rival the iciness of the Arctic. Suddenly, a traitorous draft snaked down your spine, sending shivers cascading across your skin.

You rubbed your hands together, a futile attempt to generate some friction heat. A sigh threatened to escape your lips, but you bit it back, hoping the day wouldn't drag on much longer. You couldn't wait to get back home and bury yourself in your bed before you freeze to death at your desk or worse, get another call from Hotch saying you have a case sprouting out of nowhere.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Spencer shift. He flicked a glance your way, his gaze lingering on your clenched fists a beat too long. A question lurked in the quirked brow he offered.

"Cold?" he murmured, his voice barely audible over the rustling papers.

You offered a weak smile and sniffed, a single nod the only response you could muster.

Hesitation flickered across his face, then, in a move so swift it stole your breath, he patted the extra chair beside his. "Come here," he said softly.

Confusion battled the tinge of warmth that had started in your chest as you shuffled closer to your coworker. As you settled beside him, he leaned in, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Want to warm up?" He gestured to the hem of his sweater with a hint of concern in his eyes.

Understanding bloomed on your face, accompanied by a blush that crept up your neck.

"Oh," you mumbled. "I... I-um, are you sure, Spence? I mean, it's pretty cold here."

This was unorthodox , to say the least . But the thought of thawing your frozen fingers was undeniably appealing.

"I wouldn't want to impose on you..." You continued but were cut off.

Without missing a beat, Spencer lifted the edge of his sweater, creating a welcoming pocket before you could finish what you were sputtering about.

You bit your lip, then slowly reached out, your fingers disappearing into the soft wool. The sensation was like burrowing into a cloud, sun-warmed and comforting. A contented sigh escaped your lips as you wiggled your fingers, relishing the sudden relief. Instantly, you remembered you were currently clinging to Spencer like a baby koala and squeaked in embarrassment.

A soft chuckle rumbled in Spencer's chest, sending a pleasant shiver down your spine. He continued to work, stealing occasional glances at your hands nestled beneath his sweater. A warmth bloomed in your chest that had nothing to do with temperature. It was as if time stopped between you and the man as you created your little bubble encompassing just you and Spencer; forgetting that it wasn't just the two of you in the room, but also the rest of your team.

Out of nowhere, Spencer began to murmur something that you could barely hear despite the proximity between you two, so you scuffled closer and leaned toward him. "I'm sorry, what did you say?"

"I hope you're comfortable," Spencer mumbled, his voice barely a whisper above the rustling papers . A hint of pink dusted his cheeks, a telltale sign of his usual shyness.

You flashed him a warm smile. " Absolutely, Spence. Thanks for offering."

He dipped his head in a quick nod, then, after a moment's hesitation, surprised you with a question. "Did you know women tend to feel colder than men?

Intrigued, you hummed in response, enjoying the way his brow furrowed in concentration as he spoke.

There was a childlike eagerness in Spencer's voice whenever he delved into his knowledge. You knew it stemmed from a time in his life when conversation was scarce—too busy taking care of his mom and raising himself. You always encouraged him, finding his enthusiasm endearing. His voice, with its gentle cadence and thoughtful delivery, held a certain charm, or maybe it was just a crush, one you'd harbored since day one, but refused to admit it, for fear of being rejected.

"It's all about body composition and size," he explained, facts tumbling out in a rapid stream . "Women generally have less muscle mass, which generates heat. Plus, they have a higher percentage of body fat compared to men, about 6 to 11%. And being smaller means women have a larger surface area to volume ratio, leading to faster heat loss."

You feigned contemplation, nodding thoughtfully. A playful smile lit up your face, making a blush creep up Spencer's neck. "Well, then I guess I'm lucky to have you and your sweater, wouldn't you say?"

He stammered, his hand instinctively reaching to scratch his neck. A shy bob of his head was his only reply.

The room settled into a comfortable silence, the air thick with unspoken feelings. Lost in the warmth of shared space, the workday flew by unnoticed. As you gathered your things, your eyes met Spencer's. A shy smile played on his lips, and in that silent exchange, a secret bloomed amidst the usual hustle and bustle of the BAU.

The team, privy to your oblivious dance, exchanged knowing glances and muffled snickers. "Ah, young love," Rossi chuckled under his breath.

[reidsgfbf]

hello hello can i ask for reader (either new transfer or someone they're just consulting with) hellbent on avoiding and not talking to spencer bcs he keeps rambling off about stuff everytime they're in his vicinity but they just have a really bad history of men mansplaining things to them so even tho spencer doesn't give off that vibe they just can't help but be sensitive to it 😔🤲🏻

tweaked jussst a bit gn!reader. i need to work on making my brain bigger so i can give more detail for spencer.

“well there many ways one can create their own bomb. they could use proper chemical equipment or just simple house hold items you can buy from anywhere.”

“well actually there’s only four ways to create one and most people go the homemade route. which is the most difficult to trace due to them being bought in plain sight.” a tall, skinny agent beside a man in the well pressed suit just reiterated what you said. you took an exhale through your nose to withhold an eye roll.

“yes, what i said. sulfuric acid is a common ingredient so i’d look into people’s recent purchases and cross reference that with their past criminal history.” you moved around lab as you shuffled and stacked papers, “if you need anymore help seems you already have someone with the answers. good luck.” leaving the two federal agents behind as you exited into the hallway with a tiny chip sitting on your shoulder.

what was the reason to seek you out if they already had someone who’d know their answers? probably once they saw who you were they wanted to intimidate you, that one guy wanted to show off that he knew the same information as you. no one ever gave you the respect in this department, many ‘colleagues’ have taken credit for work that you’ve done. they always talk over you or explain a concept that you already knew, seeing as you were in the same field as said mansplainer.

“someone looks to be in a mood.” oh great, if your hour couldn’t get worse. you didn’t bother looking at dr. fray, he was said mansplainer that always thought he was more inept when really you have a higher standing than him.

“since you left those agents on their own i stepped up to help them by giving further detail into their investigation. just helped save some lives, no big dealio.” your periphery saw how he walked with a certain air about him, one that many men carry without a care in the world.

you rolled your eyes as you kept walking to your office, “whatever. they already have someone who knows this information so we weren’t needed anyway.” you pulled your keys from your coat pocket, “well it was not fun walking with you. off you go, fray.” shielding yourself by throwing the door in his face.

you wanted to be away from any type of male for the rest of the day, not wanting to hear their unnecessary chatter, they just like the sound of their own voice. neatly arranging your files on your desk and placing your coat over the back of your chair you were ready to finish some documents when there was a gentle knocking to your door. you weren’t expecting anyone for a meeting so when you were faced with the lanky agent from earlier you couldn’t help as your face shifted into one of annoyance before shifting into neutral.

“was there something you needed, dr. reid?” arms crossed defensively over your chest. you internally hated how he seemed to know almost everything know to man and he seemed to be about your age. you wanted to rip your hair out halfway through your bachelors degree.

dr. reid’s mouth was pressed into a tight line, his fingers twiddling with this satchel strap over his chest. “i- uh i overheard a bit of your- your conversation and just wanted to… apologize?” he ended with a question.

your brows quirked, “apologize? for what?” confused on what was happening. men rarely apologized to you, you’ve been ran down on the street by guys who don’t care about anyone else on the street.

“i didn’t mean to overstep earlier. i understand to an extent what it feels like for people to talk over you or just ignore what you’ve said.” your anger melted just a bit at his words, “and i know for you it’s harder. there’s statistically less then 0.05% of non white males in many fields. i can tell you worked hard to be in this position, so i apologize for earlier.” his mouth probably ran just a tad faster than his brain.

you dropped your defensive stance, hands to link at the bottom of your stomach as you gave dr. reid a friendly smile, the first of the day. “thank you, dr. reid. i appreciate that you recognized your actions and acknowledged my feelings.”

he rocked on his feet, “you can call me spencer.” he said shyly, “also i’ve read a couple of your thesis. and if you have the time when this is over i’d- i’d love to discuss them with you.” you noted how his cheeks started to tint into hues of pink, it was cute.

“would be nice to talk with someone that has a fully functioning brain. you know where to find me, spencer.”

[reidsgfbf]

random headcanon that is very nsfw so under the cut we go lmao

i imagine that Spencer reads literally anything. of course, he loves sci-fi and fantasy, but he one day overhears garcia talking to jj about some of the books they've read in her bookclub, and she mentions a bunch of adult romance books. so Spencer buys a few titles and reads them when he has some free time at home. he is at first shocked by the smut, before he gets used to it, and eventually begins having some *alone time* with his books when he's on a case. soon he reads through everything in his bookshop, and decides to write his own.

[reidsgfbf]

writing reidxoc smut with a family member in the living room is a whole nother chaosfest