#SPENCER REID.

[drewswife]

Summary: while studying at the coffee shop, Spencer Reid bumps into you and spills your coffee, offering you a new drink

warnings: fluff, Spencer being Spencer, you are fascinated by his rambles

The aroma of roasted beans and the gentle hum of conversation filled "The Daily Grind," a haven for students and book lovers alike. You, a nursing student, were hunched over your anatomy textbook, trying to memorize the intricate network of veins and arteries. Midterms loomed, and the pressure was on. Lost in the complexities of the circulatory system, you barely registered the commotion until it was too late. A sudden jolt sent your iced coffee flying, the caramel-colored liquid splattering across your textbook and the front of your crisp white nursing uniform.

"Oh my gosh, I am so sorry!" a voice exclaimed, laced with genuine panic. Looking up, you saw a tall, lanky man with a mop of unruly brown hair, and he was ridiculously hot with nice cheekbones and omg his big hazel brown eyes. He was a whirlwind of nervous energy, his hands fluttering about as if trying to catch the escaping coffee. "I... I completely wasn't paying attention. Please, let me get you another one. Or... or I could try to clean this up? I have some tissues, though they might be a little… crumpled."

You blinked, momentarily stunned by the suddenness of it all. "It's okay," you managed, though a wave of frustration washed over you. Your uniform was now sporting a sticky brown stain, and your textbook was soaked. "Accidents happen."

"But it's my fault," he insisted, his brow furrowing with concern. "I really should have been more careful." He glanced at your textbook, his eyes widening slightly. "Anatomy? Are you in med school?"

"Nursing school," you corrected him. "I'm studying to be a nurse."

A flicker of recognition crossed his face. "That's… that's amazing. Nursing is such a vital profession. The dedication and compassion required… it's truly admirable." He launched into a rapid-fire explanation of the importance of nurses in patient care, citing statistics on nurse-to-patient ratios and the impact of compassionate care on healing outcomes. He spoke with an intensity that was both captivating and a little overwhelming, his words tumbling over each other in his eagerness to share his knowledge.

You were initially taken aback by his sudden outpouring of information. He seemed genuinely fascinated by your chosen field, and his enthusiasm was infectious. He spoke with such intelligence and passion, it was clear he possessed a remarkable mind. You found yourself drawn into his world, intrigued by the depth of his knowledge and the unique way he connected seemingly disparate ideas.

As he spoke, you couldn't help but notice the small details about him. The way his brow furrowed when he was concentrating, the slight tremor in his hands, the way his eyes lit up when he talked about something he was passionate about, the way he talked with his hands, and how truly beautiful he was. There was an air of vulnerability about him, a sense of gentle awkwardness that you found strangely endearing.

He paused suddenly as if realizing he'd been talking for quite some time. "I do apologize," he said, a hint of sheepishness returning to his voice. "I tend to get carried away when discussing things that interest me."

You chuckled softly, "It's alright. I found it incredibly interesting." And you meant it. His insights were fascinating, and his passion was contagious.

"Really?" A genuine smile spread across his face, transforming his features into something truly charming. "I'm glad. Most people just glaze over when I start talking about this stuff."

"Well, I'm not most people," you replied, a playful glint in your eyes. "And I happen to think your 'stuff' is quite extraordinary."

He laughed, a genuine, unguarded sound that sent a pleasant shiver down your spine. "Maybe we could continue this conversation sometime?" he suggested, his gaze meeting yours. "Perhaps over dinner? Or another, less eventful, cup of coffee?"

You hesitated for a moment. There was something undeniably intriguing about him, but you also knew how easily you could get distracted. "I'd like that very much," you replied, scribbling your number on a napkin for him. "But just so you know, I have midterms coming up, so I might be a little preoccupied."

"Of course," he said, tucking the napkin safely into his pocket. "I understand I’m quite busy myself”. He suddenly got a text from his phone “oh I have to go, Good luck with your studies."

As he turned to leave, you couldn't help but wonder about him. He was clearly intelligent and passionate, but there was also a hint of mystery about him. You had a feeling there was more to him than met the eye. You shrugged off the thought, reminding yourself that you had more pressing matters to attend to, like memorizing the brachial plexus

a/n: i love his rambles in the show sm

taglist: @chrislilcumslvt @chrepsi

[violenthunted]

the case ends early, without any flourish. a rather straight-forward situation, with a child recovered early enough that he will probably find a way to get past the traumatic events. his parents are overjoyed, and reid has to turn away from their cries of relief. not from disgust, exactly — more like envy. a crude feeling he does not wish to study in any way, shape or form. their work trip ends well. something that does not happen often, which of course calls for a celebration. the place they have left their stuff at is nice and clean and relatively welcoming. the town is small enough that the party will not be invaded by outsiders. most of all, they desperately need a break — a break from the restless succession of cases and corpses and violence. spencer does not remember the last time he went to get a drink with his colleagues instead of collapsing on a bed that is not his, shirt half-opened and shoes barely taken off.

the night off is clearly necessary, but the fact that they all gather around beers and cocktails is a happy incident. at first, all morgan had asked for was for a game of cards. he knows the danger of playing with reid, of course, so the shift happens quickly : from game to magic tricks to drinks. the night goes smoothly, with laughter and jokes about events that they have collected along the way like precious stones, greedily, for they were too rare not to.

spencer isn't drunk exactly since he hasn't consumed anything except a beer. but alcohol on an empty stomach gets the job done anyway : he feels slightly buzzed, happily drifting away from clear consciousness. he is happy just to sit and listen as juno recalls events and stories that david seems happy enough to ask her about. one by one, his friends leave : morgan and garcia, his arm around her waist as she babbles about codes and programs that would make the job "so much more fun". derek's smile is so sweet spencer doesn't even have to wonder what is hiding behind it. emily, rossi and hotch end up leaving together, all discussing quietly. the only true mark of levity is the absence of lines between hotch's brows. david's enigmatic smile hasn't faltered at all. only emily's behavior seems slightly off in the tame light of the bar — with the way she tilts closer to them in order to capture the softly spoken words. garcia tried to outdrink her, and lost — but not by far, it seems.

spencer and juno are the last to leave. he caught their friends leaving one by one, but only through snippets ; most of is attention is on juno as she speaks of a book she read in the plane. if it were up to him, they would never leave the place — but here she is, taking her jacket. there is nothing more to say and he finds himself lacking in questions, his brain too hesitant to speak of anything at all, so they have no choice but to depart. on the way, he wishes for a distraction ; for her stomach to make a sound, so that he could take her to dinner. for something to happen, anything that would force them to stay together. just one more hour. one more minute. but nothing happens and soon enough, he has taken her home, which is to say he has wallked her all the way to her hotel room.

perhaps it is that his state makes him braver than he usually is. perhaps it is that he has been thinking of it for years now. if a thousand things have always been between them, preventing any evolution in their dynamic, these things have come crumbling down with the passing years. he thinks of morgan's hand around garcia, the smile she sent his way. he thinks of jj, the way she threw herself in the arms of her husband knowing he'd catch her. he thinks of the kid's parents. how they held each other through the horror, and never faltered. not until their child was brought back to them, anyway. he thinks of his mother and how he will have no one left the day she dies. how, even now, he only has parts of her. loneliness gnaws at his bones, and his mind only knows quiet hours when juno is close.

maybe he is not any braver today than he was yesterday. maybe he is simply more desperate. more aware of the fact that she is going to get away from him and he will not survive it. maybe he wants her in unspeakable ways and can no longer find it in himself to pretend otherwise. all that matters is that, when their goodbyes have been spoken and the soft click of the door has rung out behind him, spencer does not move. twelve steps would take him to the elevator. five more and he'd get to the stairs. it would be terribly easy to do as he has always done, shoving his feelings down his throat and walking away from her. he knows that with a painful clarity. he could leave and never speak of the hesitation again. he has done it before, he could do it again in a heartbeat.

and yet. his knuckles tap against the wooden door. slowly, at first, and then faster. he won't be brave for much longer and he needs to do this right. (meaning if he doesn't do it now, he never will) the door takes a moment longer to open, and he finds juno a little more disheveled than he left her ; shoes off, her jacket abandoned somewhere in the room. spencer has never had any doubt whatsoever about juno's beauty but once again he is in awe. he knows that there are geometrical theories and mathematical equations to explain why she is so pleasing to the eye. yet despite this, he cannot help but believe that some of it is simply juno — she is beautiful as nature or art is beautiful. not for reasons exterior to itself, but simply because it exists in its own unique ways. he could spend an eternity watching her and he would not get bored, not even grow restless. in fact, he has spent countless hours following her every move, and he has always found something worthy to admire. she is a strange creature. one he wishes he could study closer, closer, not just with eyes but hands and mouth. his own desire is a monster he does not know how to destroy.

his humanity always comes as a surprise ; how he can hunger and thirst for such trivial things. even other people seem surprised of the fact that, at the end of the day, spencer reid is just a man. yet in juno's presence, reid has never felt like anything but. he wants her. he wants her the way he wanted her when he was younger, badly and excessively and sometimes even jealously. tonight he is tired of pretending otherwise.

she must have a question on her tongue, perhaps wondering what he is doing, if he has forgotten something, but it cannot be spoken before he moves forward. her face is captured by his hands, a soft hold. spencer leans toward her, his shadow eating away all her personal space. a few steps are taken, so he can close the door with the back of his heel.

he knows it is surprising. he knows that she might have not realized the effects she has on him — the way the flush on her cheeks makes him yearn, how when she speaks of something he doesn't know, he wishes she would whisper the pieces of information against his throat. he knows this is all in his head but god — years of fantasy and he is tired of abandoning her at the end of the night, not knowing if she regrets it as much as he does. for a moment, he thought juno and derek... well, a stupid conclusion that had saved him from admitting to himself what he actually felt.

now, though, spencer is willing to be brave. he even is willing to admit he is so stupid when it comes to her. "tell me," he starts, his breath probably smelling a little like stale beer. he'd apologize, except his hands have moved from her cheeks to her hair, and the long curls have him already weak in the legs. whatever the painters thought of when they talked about beauty, spencer knows they thought of her. like this. face flushed, lips slightly open, surprise and something else... something he cannot name. "tell me if you don't..." but then the thought dies on his lips, and he simply does what he has been dying to do for years. he leans forward, captures @suarcz 's lips with his, and prays she won't try to shoot him in the chest for invading her personal space.

[violentlydone]

"miss di angelo", he greets, a file in his hands while he sits across from her. after a moment of silence (the tick tock of the clock their only company) he places the pile of paper down and presses his hands, flat, over the cold metal table. "do you know why we are keeping you here?" @infernocte

[saintfire]

[colmiillo]

When y/n does something so cringe that i have to look at the invisible camera for a sec.

[thatboisus]

me logging onto tumblr after consuming a new piece of media

[mcntsee]

me when I reach the angst part of the angsty fic that I specifically chose for the angst

[flow33didontsmoke]

when y/n does something so bad/embarrassing you have to facepalm and close your eyes for a minute

[pillowprincess4logan]

the team is chasing the sickest murderers to ever live meanwhile these two on the phone sexually harassing each other

[natti-ice]

18+ mdni

that reality check hitting after reading smut

[silverwingxox]

born to marry him, forced to read fanfics about him

[bethsvrse]

me staring at my ceiling after y/n does the most FLABBERGASTING thing ever

[violenthunted]

years of profiling have not made him less clueless. morgan finds it immensely amusing, and always finds new ways to test reid’s inability to grasp at clues until it is too late to escape certain situations. if only morgan seems interested in overplaying the comedic aspect of such a flaw, it is common knowledge all the same. every member of the team raises an amused eyebrow when a question escapes spencer’s mouth, one he should apparently know the answer to. perhaps there is something truly amusing about the resident genius and his lack of knowledge regarding normal human customs.

therefore when juno, his girlfriend, leads him straight to what resembles a closet, he assumes it is because she is worried about something and requires some sort of secrecy in order to get it off her chest. he assumes that she wishes to discuss the case, or perhaps admonish him for his choice of tie. really, all the available options look more of the same: wanting to talk, not knowing where to do it. it seems like a plausible explanation, for they are still in the early stages of their relationship, which is to say that there are times when they both hesitate on where to stand and what to say. they’ve been trying to keep it a secret, you see, while not jeopardizing their relationship at the same time.

so when juno demands that he follows, he sees no other choice but to agree and walk into her steps with the blind devotion that he only now recognizes for what it is (love). but it is not for talking that she led him away from wandering eyes. in fact, talking is not at all her goal : "i don't care if someone sees us. i need you, now." she stands close, lips glued on his neck, fingers trying to find their way under his clothes. "this is highly unprofessional", he answers immediately, hands up in the same fashion as he would if he were lit up by the headlights of a cop's car. nothing to see here, officer! however juno is ruthless & relentless, and he is not completely unbothered by her attention. how difficult to fight something you wish you could surrender to.

"if someone were to walk on us... they could file a complaint... for... for sexual misconduct... and..." his voice trails off, for whatever he had meant to say disappears directly into juno's mouth, soon followed by a sigh of relief. of course he kisses her back. of course he appears soothed by the soft press of her lips on his. of course his hands cup her face in the gentlest way imaginable, holding her as he did that first night : a treasure he fears will dissipate like sand between open fingers. it does not matter how many times they have kissed, how many days & nights they have spent mapping out each other's bodies. it does not matter that he could draw her from memory and that he can list every mole and mark on her body with perfect precision. it does not matter, for spencer is always absurdly in awe of the privilege he is given. whenever she kisses him there is this short moment of utter disbelief, this one second of pure unadulterated joy to find that she still wants him, that it was not a cruel dream, that she is his to touch and to love and to kiss and to laugh with and to…

perhaps he is getting a bit lost in the kisses. perhaps it takes a kiss, two, maybe three or five or more, each stealing a bit more of his resolve, until finally a resounding, breathy "fuck it" can be heard as his own hands join juno's dance, dipping under her shirt to settle on the small of her back, slipping even further under her belt. he applies pressure there, enough so that nothing of this world could fit between them. "you have my attention.” @suarcz

[violentlydone]

"you seem tired." reid's voice is soft ; morning light seeps through the plane's windows. only the engine's trumming and morgan's snoring have broken the silence that has stretched between them for hours now. but @greeneway hasn't closed her eyes & neither has spencer. he thought of it all night ; only found the courage to ask when morning caressed the sky with soft orange light. "and even though altitude definitely affects rest, as oxygen becomes rarer, therefore making it harder to go to sleep -- well, you haven't even tried." the confused look on his face swiftly becomes a concerned expression. "why?"

[shoot1ngst4r]

going out of your way to search up [insert character] ANGST and all you get is smut