#Spencer Reid’s puppy eyes

[commit-arson-i-dare-you]

*ahem* SPENCER REID

[reidsminds]

fine shyt

[whoisspence]

[cryforviolence]

baby reid is so cute. i want to throw a rock at him (affectionately).

[jareaau]

12x15 "Alpha Male"

[chineray1234]

It’s his eyes I swear

[brainrotcharacters]

A GODDAMN PISCES.

[only-one-brain-cell]

Headcanon that Spencers son develops a hyperfixation on dinosaurs after reading about them at the library so anytime he gets a change all he talks about is dinosaurs and of course the BAU is hanging onto his every word. (of course so are his parents Spencer is the one that brought him to the library.)

[all-i-do-is-live-in-daydreams]

I can't get over every little thing spencer reid does. like his little mannerisms are EVERYTHING TO ME. The way he talks with his hands, how he presses his middle finger to his thumb and rubs them together sometimes or moves it as if he's writing when talking, the way he scrunches his face up sometimes, the way he wrings his hands at all really like just playing with the fingers of his other hand or sometimes I've seen him just press his knuckles together and rub them together, the thin lipped pressed together smile he does as he awkwardly waves to new people he's being introduced to, when his hair is a long enough length and he tucks it behind his ears all the time. I think he does both sides sometimes and and and UGHHHHH I LOVE HIM

[spncrscasey]

my type in men.

[starlight-storytime]

ok so blame it on the dead guy has to be the danny phantom or dc wip right

surprisingly not! "Alright, blame it on the dead guy" is actually my unsub!Spencer Reid fic bc it is CRIMINAL how few plot-driven fics with serial killer Spence assigned his own case are out there

like?? he has SO much potential but I've never come across an Unsub Reid fic that interested me so I decided to write one myself 🥸 1k snippet under the cut!

Spencer volunteered to go first, shifty and nervous. “We—ah, well, we might as well get this out of the way.”

They didn't think to take her out of the viewing room—or, still trusted her enough not to—because they let Elle stay in the corner to watch that stupid, sweet boy get through an interrogation with Hotch. The reality, the potential, hadn't really set in. The team were still scoffing and disbelieving about the mere idea that Elle was a suspect, let alone actually considering she could have killed someone and should be kept aside in a waiting room.

She didn't know whether their trust was heartwarming, or if it hurt to know she was betraying it. That she was making Spencer betray it.

“Where were you last night?” Hotch asked bluntly, diving right to the thick of it.

“890 Glendale Avenue, Queen’s Motel, room 128.” Spencer answered immediately, staring at his shirt cuff as he picked at it.

“A motel?" Hotch raised a brow. "Why weren't you at home?”

“I was, um, visiting Elle. Like I said, this case got us both really heated, and I thought as—as her friend, I should comfort her, y'know?” Spencer looked up as if asking for Hotch's approval, before realizing where he was, and looking back down at his hands awkwardly.

“How long were you at the motel?”

“From 7:23pm to 6:51am.”

“All night?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And what room was Elle staying in?”

“128.”

“So then—wait.” Hotch visibly double taked. “What room did you stay in?”

“128. Sir.”

Spencer was turning a shade of delicate rose, those honey amber doe eyes burning a hole into the ground as he very determinedly stared down at the table, lips slightly twisted.

“How many beds were in the—”

“We slept together!” Spencer burst out, hands over his face as if he couldn't bare to be seen and his ears a burning flame. “They only have queens at Queen’s Motel, which is why they're mostly popular for discreet hookups, affairs, and young couples for privacy. There's no cameras on premise for that exact reason but I can guarantee that we were preoccupied for the entire night and didn't have time to go kill anyone.”

Spencer looked up at his boss beseechingly, and his every move screamed earnest innocence. Hotch was briefly stunned silent by the outburst.

The viewing room, on the other hand, is hooting and hollering, gasping and grinning and exchanging promises to pay back bets they had apparently made.

"That's why he's so nervous, that sly dog!” Morgan crowed.

Elle stared at the picture of embarrassed, inexperienced young coworker spilling about an unlikely office romance in front of her, and now understood exactly why Spencer had said what he did on the car ride over

“I have a tattoo of four dice on my left hip, in the order 1, 3, 1, 2. I got it for twenty bucks at a Halloween flash sale in Vegas, when I was 16.”

Elle was so overwhelmed by everything going on after hiding a body and disposing of evidence, she can barely process the spontaneous fun fact Spencer shared.

“Is that your worst secret or something? Trying to make it even now that you— have mine?” Elle weakly joked. It seemed so Spencer that the worst thing he ever did was get an underage tattoo.

Spencer glanced at her briefly before turning back to the dark road he was speeding down, headlights off. “Just remember it. It's on my left hip, an inch above the bone.”

The entire viewing room was staring at Elle now, any ideas of her involvement with the murder last night swept out the door. She can only confidently manage a secretive tilt of her head before she's looking away, towards the sight of her best friend saving her from a charge of second degree murder.

“You and Elle…slept in the same bed the entire night, then?” Spencer nodded behind his hands. “Alright. Sure. She never got up to use the bathroom, get a drink, anything like that?” Hotch's attempts to keep up professionalism were crumbling, with Spencer looking exactly like an embarrassed teen who desperately didn't want to talk about girls with his father.

“We were occupied until roughly 11pm, and slept in the same bed the entire night. We never left the room, she never left my line of sight, please just hurry this up.” Spencer says directly into his hands, not even pretending to not be hiding from eye contact anymore.

Hotch grimaced, as much as the man ever showed weakness. “You say she never left your line of sight, rather than she never left the bed.”

“The only time we got out of bed was to take a shower and replace the sheets, but those all came in the suite. We did them all together, barely an arms length away from when I entered the hotel room to when I got into this interrogation room. We fell asleep cuddling and woke up the same way. I'm a light enough sleeper that she couldn't have moved me without drugging me, and I didn't take anything unsealed last night. ” Spencer peeked out from between his fingers, and the skin that can be seen is an impressively tomato red. “Please, Hotch.”

Hotch sighed, kneading his brow for a long moment before picking his papers up and motioning for Spencer to leave. The boy practically sprints, going straight out the door and into the viewing room with such an apologetic face Elle can almost believe they did have this night he implied, rather than the one that really happened.

"I'm really, really sorry about having to talk about this with the whole team, Elle." Spencer apologized, even as Morgan was shaking his shoulders like the kid had scored the winning play of the season.

He didn't even lie when he said we spent the whole night together, an arms length away. Elle realized incredulously, filled with exhilarated relief at the fact that they were actually going to get a way with it. We did sleep in that queen bed together, even if nothing happened.

Hotch put his head in reluctantly. "This will be brief, but for the sake of protocol..."

Elle put on her best swagger and a smile for Hotch. "Of course, boss." She blew a kiss behind her on a whim, and the team burst into another round of whispers and gossip as the door shut.

Elle reclined in the metal chair, half nervous and half amused. The look in Hotch’s eyes is so tired dad that she can fool herself into thinking this is a meet-the-parents scenario.

“Did you know he has a tattoo?" Elle said idly, picking at her cuticle. "On his hip, the left one. You'll never guess the story behind it.”

The tired look he gave her aged him ten years, and Elle laughs so hard she almost cries.

She dramatically goes over the tattoo story she heard in the car, and then proceeds to make up one of the best nights of her life, using unnecessarily raunchy detail until it's all too much. Too much in general outside of an erotic romance novel, but way too much for her boss to hear about from a coworker he has to look in the eyes. (And, the boy she can tell he's starting to consider like a son.)

Elle doesn't get arrested for murder that day. The least she can do is cover for Spencer now, when he's being blamed for a string of murders he didn't even do.

[tangledmelody]

My brain is working overtime and I can't quite bring myself to wait to share this idea, so without further ado- a cute little blurb.

Spencer Reid x Original Female Character

This is an idea that I literally can't stop thinking about. Depending on how quickly I can write I'll probably be posting the full chapter on ao3 soon. (I just have to make up my mind if this is going to be a one-shot or something longer).

Quick summary:

Lucille had been in love with Dr. Reid for years, but she hadn't quite realized it until recently. She was fascinated from the very start- sending him longing stares and hidden glances in between the heartbreaking horrors that their job brings.

In the middle of a crowded bar Lucille struggles to hold onto her muddled mind as her coworkers urge her to drink past her usual limit. Will either of them be brave enough to mention the simmering tension that flares underneath the surface of their friendship? I would certainly like to know ;)

The vibes I bring to the function: yearning, mutual pining, idiots in love, drunken antics, unspoken sexual tension, like seriously- just kiss already, BAU! member original character, flustered Spencer, lots of blushing and drawn out looks, 3rd person omniscient POV

This is a short blurb- really a sneak peek of something that I'm working on. Word count is less than 1,000. NOT proofread.

The world spins around her as she moves. Lights and faces trail through the air in fascinating blurs of color and Lucille finds herself unable to look away. She hesitates- fluid motion stuttering to a stop as the palm of her hand catches against the smooth, metal surface of the bar. Her legs wobble shakily underneath her as she cautiously leans back onto the red cushioned stool. 

She spins- flying through the air with dizzying speed as a delighted laugh is pulled from low in her chest. She is left achingly breathless from the motion. 

“Spencer,” she gasps softly. Her breath hitches again as she catches sight of those familiar brown eyes. 

“Pretty boy genius.” Her words fly out in a tumble- a far cry from the usual composed way she preferred to speak with. But Spencer was here. Her Spencer. 

Lucille looked at him with shining eyes. Her mouth stretched wide into a dopey, adoring grin. “Hey,” she mumbled conspiratorially as she leaned forward. Their shoulders connected as the room spun around her in looping circles. She's too far gone to care, not even noticing the confused stare that Spencer flashes her. 

He twists, probably an attempt to find one of the other members of the team. He wanted to get rid of her- pawn her off to someone else. Not fair. Lucille pouted, her glossy lips pushing together as she stuck her lower lip out. 

“Spencer,” she whines. Her voice pitches higher than normal, another sign of the alcohol steadily thrumming through her bloodstream. “You're not paying attention to me.”

She grins lazily at the tight lipped look of confusion he sends her way. God, she just wanted to reach over and smooth those beautiful lips underneath her thumb. 

“Are you alright?” The low, steady rumble of Spencer's voice snaps her out of her reverie and Lucille flinches. Her shoulders roll backwards as she straightens. 

“Yes.” Her voice is too high-pitched, coming out in a strained gasp. “Yeah,” she tries again, eyebrows pulling together at the frustrating fact that her voice has barely returned to normal. “I-I'm fine.”

He stares at her- she pretends not to notice the tantalizing way the tip of his tongue peeks out from between his lips. 

Spencer is the one to break the spell. He places a gentle, fluttering touch onto her skin. His warm palms melt into her- settling into the bones underneath. It is fire, crackling thunder, and the hesitant whisper of something more. Lucille melts under his concerned gaze and her eyes widen almost imperceptibly. But Spencer notices- he always notices.

“Really Spence-” her hand lifts up to his, shaky fingers clutching around his knuckles in a timid sort of desperation. She tells herself that it's only a means to an end- the logical answer to solve the shaky way her legs sway underneath her. 

He pretends not to notice the subtle way his heart thrums in his chest at the gesture- the dizzying way his head spins as she calls his name oh so softly. It is almost tender in nature as she leans into him. 

The easy way she leans toward him is electrifying. Her cheeks are dusted with the most wonderfully enchanting shade of pink. Spencer's fingers twitch- pushing softly into the cool skin underneath his aching palm. 

She sighs, and it sends skittish waves of heat across his spine. Her head drops forward- wild hair falling into her eyes in the most fascinating way. All he wants to do is reach up and hold one of the silky strands between his fingers. He wants nothing more than to twist one of the twisting coils and tug.

Lucille blinks at him owlishly- delicate eyelashes fluttering against her cheeks captivatingly. She runs a thumb across his knuckles gingerly- so achingly slow. She barely registers the subtle motion. She's too focused on his beautiful, brown eyes- a shade that's fascinated her from the very moment she first laid eyes on Spencer all those years ago. Three, she was sure- almost positive. That number sounded right even through her drunken haze.

“Are you?” She pushes herself back, elbows gingerly resting against the cold metal behind her. “Okay I mean?”

His answer is shaky- a high pitched hum as he stiffly shakes his head. “Yeah-” Spencer flashes her a look that she can't understand. Her brain isn't working quite right. The easy understanding that usually bubbles to the surface as she analyzes someone's behavior isn't quite working. It's frustrating in a way she can't define- can't find the words to explain. 

---

And- that's it. Tada~ Hopefully it's as interesting as I think it is lol

Literally going feral over this man as we speak. I can't get this scenario out of my head. I miss him :(

[whoisspence]

yes this is a post about spence looking up, and what about it

[snarkylinda]

Wait Spencer got beaten up in 300 off-screen? but I thought that was the producer's fetish we are losing our values here-

[whydoyoucare866]

I AM INTO SUBMISSIVE MEN!! I LOOOOVE HIM

I’m not into submissive men but….

There can always be exceptions

[only-one-brain-cell]

Me @ Spencer Reid: