#Spencer reid x reader fluff

[parfaitblogs]

state of grace ❀ s. reid x reader

in which your cat has taken liking to your friend with benefits, and you begin to battle with the consequential feelings. 

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: fluff (18+ for suggestive content) tags: established friends with benefits. reader has a cat. your cat likes him more than you :(  avoidant!reader for like a teensie second. it's okay happy ending. the happiest possible ending actually. fade to black. word count: 1.9k a/n: sometimes the most beautiful poetry can be about simple things. like a cat. :) im a dog person. idk why i wrote this.

Seventeen times.

That is how many times Spencer Reid had found residence at your apartment in the past month alone, taking up the space on the other side of your bed. Thirteen of those times he had stayed the night. Six of those times, he had come for sex. The other eleven? He had come because you needed a friend. 

Or, rather, your cat did. 

You had discovered you weren't any more complex than your average man, at the end of the day. Human beings are at their core created to love and be loved, and by extension, to want and be wanted. You wanted Spencer, and you were wanted by Spencer. For both your friendship, and the intimacy your relationship provided. 

But you did not love him, and he did not love you. 

Cat's are anything but fickle creatures. A lot of your best friendships were centred around whether or not your cat developed a liking to the person or not. Oftentimes, your fleeting relationships came down to the odd sixth sense the animal had for disliking the worst people. That, and your one night stands were never a crowd favourite within the walls of your apartment. And yet; Spencer Reid. 

He was nothing short of charming. In a sort of dorky way, yes. But whatever socially romantic skills he lacked, he most certainly made up for by giving you the best of just about everything in bed. A small part of you wants to claim it's human instinct to know how to worship the person meant for you, but the logical reason is probably his eidetic memory knowing exactly what he's doing after a singular trial run. Entertaining the thought of being his soulmate was not a wise choice.

He most certainly was your cat's, though. The Ragdoll always jumping down to greet him the second he stepped foot in your apartment, usually resulting in the break of a kiss and a five minute intermission before the two of you could do anything. 

At first, it was an inconvenience. Your cat had never taken such a liking to a person you'd brought home before, and it was jarring to watch a man you were partially trying to undress, stop everything to pet your cat. Now, it is simply endearing. You've stopped trying to steal Spencer's attention before the cat does, and you've come to the conclusion that Spencer's priority list will always be the feline, then you. 

Today was, seemingly, no different. Despite the dull ache between your legs and the fact that this visit had started as something as obscene as Spencer calling from his work bathroom to ask if he could come over after for he was, and you quote, in dire need to touch you (among many other things), whatever those needs were, were put on hold. 

You smile regardless, leaning against the edge of your couch as he crouches down to meet Po — yes, like the panda — his hand immediately reaching out for the cat to run his head along. 

Spencer's head lifts to look at you. "Morgan thinks Po isn't a real cat, and we've just got a name for your—um—" his brain catches up to his mouth mid sentence, and he's stammering his way to silence. 

"Please tell me you defended my cat's honour," you retort.

"I did! I even showed him the photo I took of him while you were in the shower last week. He thinks it's a different person's cat."

You shake your head in disapproval. "Unbelievable. Your coworker thinks we've named my pussy."

"That's just Morgan."

"I wish Po could speak English. Then he could hear this nonsense, and stop loving you more than me," you grumble, and Spencer's lips twitch up into a smile, as he situates himself on the floor, the cat climbing into his lap.

"Actually, he technically can. Cat's can understand up to thirty-five words in whatever language you train them in. Also, when they meow, they begin trying to mimic the sound of certain human words. It's their vocal tract that prevents them from literally speaking English," he explains.

But, you're too invested in the way his long fingers are delicately running through the cat's hair, to both respond, and really pay any attention at all.

You had had fleeting thoughts about real feelings for Spencer two months ago. Brushing them off as loneliness and your need to satiate the hopeless romantic within you, you'd forgotten about it up until this recent week.

He'd been over every single day, sometimes for sex, oftentimes for a movie and dinner (which was usually a bowl of pasta you had overestimated while cooking). And every single time, you'd developed an overwhelming anxious pit in your stomach when watching him interact with Po, your heart fluttering the entire time, mind running rampant on domestic thoughts you should be squashing. 

Should be, but weren't. 

You'd tried to put it down to the motherly instinct you had over the animal. Seeing somebody else treat him with as much love and care as you did was endearing — it wasn't a Spencer Reid specific trait. Yet, here you were. 

"I feel like the benefits of this relationship have changed," you say, seating yourself in front of Spencer on the floor, Po lifting his head to look at the person behind the sudden movement, before he let it rest back on Spencer's thigh. 

"To what?"

"My cat," you huff, and Spencer laughs.

"He is my favourite benefit thus far," he muses. 

"The feeling is definitely mutual," you nod your head to Po, whose eyes were now shut, seemingly quite comfortable disregarding all your personal plans and taking Spencer's attention.

"Animals don't usually like me," he comments. "I don't know why Po is different."

Oh, you had a few ideas why.

"Maybe he's exercising the keep your enemies closer life motto," you offer, and Spencer's eyebrows shoot up in faux offence. 

"This is unadulterated love," he protests. "He does not think of me as an enemy."

"That's what he wants you to believe," you hum, pushing yourself up on your legs. "Well, since plans have been rudely interrupted, do you want some dinner?" 

"Sure," he answers, though his attention is back on Po. Clearly so, for he says, "I'll get to our original plans after we eat, don't worry," almost absentmindedly.

It's the kind of thing that makes you forget you're in the room with the dictionary definition of a nerd. You know it's only because sometimes he says what he is thinking without thinking. It doesn't do anything to help the ongoing internal battle about your feelings for him. 

Or maybe he does know exactly what he's doing.

"You should get a cat," you say, heading into your kitchen to find something for the two of you to eat. "You seem to like them enough."

"Why? I have yours."

"I'm not going to be around forever," you reply, unthinking. "I mean, one day we're gonna have to end this because the other has found someone they want to be with. Properly. It wouldn't be fair to keep a friendship."

He falls silent, and when you lift your head, you see he's staring at you with an almost confused frown on his face, which triggers your own confusion to appear. His scratching of Po's head has been interrupted, and you're starting to question what was wrong about what you had said. 

Sure, you're pretty sure you have feelings for him, but as far as you knew, they were one sided. Right?

"I didn't—I thought—" he cuts himself off, takes a deep breath, then continues. "I thought that had changed this past month."

"What do you mean?"

"I just—I've been here for things other than sex a lot. I thought you knew I liked you, and you were subtly trying to tell me you liked me too. I'm starting to sense I misread that."

For a profiler, he was incredibly awful at reading you. 

"Yeah..." You slowly nod your head, but it's the deepening of his frown that has you rushing to add, "I mean, I—I do. Like you. I'm kind of embarrassed that was obvious. But I didn't think you liked me outside of having sex with me. I wasn't trying to communicate my feelings. I was trying to hide them."

"Oh," he falls silent again. "So the times I’ve been here in the past month weren’t makeshift dates?"

"They weren't intended that way..." you trail off. "Did you see them as dates?"

"Kind of, I guess," he's back to running his fingers through Po's fur, just to keep his anxious hands busy. "They don't have to be, if you don't want them to. I just thought this feeling was mutual and we were... I guess, dating."

"The feeling is mutual," you quickly correct him. "I know that now. I didn't think we were dating because I didn't think you liked me back. Changing our relationship kind of needs to be a conversation."

"Right," he breathes out, an awkward smile painting his lips. "Is this the conversation, then?"

"I guess?"

"So now we're dating."

"If that's what you want," you nod, head feeling a little fuzzy.

"Is it what you want?" he presses. Always the gentleman.

"Maybe," you muse, leaning forwards against the kitchen countertop. 

He's watching you, and for a second you let the silence fall over you, fearful that you've just discouraged him enough to ruin things between you. He carefully takes Po off his lap, the cat running into your room the second his paws hit the hardwood floor, and he's standing up to move over to you. 

"I don't like maybe," he frowns. "Yes or no?"

You blink, realising he was evidently too anxious of your genuine response to have any recognition to your poor attempt of a joke. 

"Yes, Spencer. That's what I want," you're breathless as you speak, and you're thankful for the relieved smile that stretches across his lips.

"That's what I want too," he answers. 

"Yeah, I figured." Your second attempt at a tease lands, and he huffs a small laugh, which warms your heart. "Do you still want dinner?"

He had somehow gotten closer to you throughout the awkward enough conversation, and he was sliding his arms around your waist. Something he had done many times before, yes, and yet this time it was feeling much more intimate, and your heart was thrumming against your chest a little harder than usual. 

"Maybe it can wait?" he offers, ducking his head down, lips ghosting over your own. "I don't have a bothersome cat keeping me preoccupied from you, now."

Despite yourself, you poke a finger into his chest and say, "Don't insult Po."

"I'm not. Just merely stating an obvious fact."

"I'll call him back in here to preoccupy me."

"He has selective hearing. And he likes me more than you."

Your lips drop into a frown, lower lip jutting out, and Spencer is quick to try and kiss it off within seconds of noticing it. 

"I'm sorry. That was mean. I promise he doesn't like me more than you," he says, though his voice is too amused to be entirely sincere. 

"That was mean," you agree with a firm nod. "You're very mean to me, Spencer Reid."

"I know, I'm awful. Can I make it up to you, sweet girl?"

Well, when he asks you like that.

"Mm..." you hesitate, but he's already guiding you around, walking you backwards, through your apartment and towards your bedroom. "Yeah, I guess so."

Hands that were around your waist hike your shirt up, his lips still kissing against your skin despite the intense multitasking he was forcing upon the two of you.

"Thank you."

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated ♡

[notlongtolove]

joy sneaks in

you're chosen to host the BAU's annual christmas party at your apartment, where spencer's books line your shelves and his sweaters are tangled in your laundry. the days leading up to the party are a blur of stuffing his things into every drawer and cupboard you can find. it’s your mess. your life together. and it’s everything.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader (second person, no y/n)

genre: fluff

content: domestic! and also a christmas party! less on the party and more on how spencer and bau!reader suck at lying though; which make for some humorous moments.

word count: 3.8k

note: i wrote this awhile back and felt like posting it too. honestly a tad bit dramatised for comedy's sake but whatever i love domesticity and nervous!spencer. and it was fun writing them flounder about.

a line: For the first time, the thought of being home doesn’t feel like a concession; it feels like choosing happiness.

joy does not arrive with a fanfare on a red carpet strewn with the flowers of a perfect life joy sneaks in as you pour a cup of coffee - donna ashworth

It starts innocuously enough—a draw from Hotch's coffee mug, a simple slip of paper pulled out in front of the team, the scrawl of your name on it in black pen, and the pause before your name is announced in his unmistakably measured tone. “Looks like you’re hosting the Christmas party this year.”

Derek grins, his laugh a low rumble. “Oh, this is gonna be good,” he drawls, shooting you a look that’s practically dripping with amusement.

You feel all the eyes on you, and the weight of it sinks into your chest. Your first instinct is to swallow it down, play it cool, try not to look at Spencer. Hosting a party means opening up your space— the space that’s been shared with Spencer for the last six months. Your apartment, which has slowly morphed into a mix of the two of you, a messy blend of both your lives—where his books spill off your shelves and his sweaters are tangled in your laundry, where his favourite mug has a place in your cupboard.

Derek leans back in his chair, arms crossed, his smirk a beacon for trouble. “Better start tidying up, huh?”  You laugh it off, aiming for nonchalance but his teasing lands squarely in your chest. Your heart does that familiar flip when your gaze slips, unbidden, to Spencer who to your dismay, is standing there with his eyes ever so slightly widened like a deer caught in the headlights. You can feel the team’s teasing smiles from every corner of the room, their unspoken questions hanging in the air. But beneath their teasing, there’s an edge. Suspicion. They’ve been suspecting for weeks, piecing together the small clues you’ve been desperately trying to keep under wraps. 

And why wouldn’t they? The truth is, you’ve been dodging their invites lately, throwing out flimsy excuses about “errands” or “early mornings” that didn’t quite stick. At first, it was the occasional “I’ve got other plans”, but it became more frequent, more noticeable until even Derek had started to raise an eyebrow. He’d started poking at the seams of your alibis weeks ago, slouching against your desk with an eyebrow arched in pure disbelief. “C’mon, pretty girl,” he’d said. “What gives? You’ve gone full hermit mode on us.” You’d brushed it off, offering up a half-hearted excuse about how you’ll definitely join them next week, but Derek didn’t look convinced. And neither did the rest of the team. They weren’t blind, and it was becoming increasingly obvious that there was something—or rather someone you weren’t telling them about. 

Then there was Garcia, sidling up to you with that twinkle in her eye that only ever meant trouble. “Spill,” she demanded, hands on her hips. “Who is he? And when do I get to give him the Penelope Garcia Official Seal of Approval™?” You had laughed, and tried to deflect with a vague answer about how busy things had been. “Whoever he is, he better be worth it, because you”—she jabs a finger at you with exaggerated flair—“never skip a night out. Ever. We’re talking borderline-unbreakable attendance!” 

You bite back a smile, your mind flickering to those wild nights—sweaty dance floors, drinks flowing, laughter that echoed until dawn. It’s still a little surreal to think you’ve turned into one of those girls—the kind who would happily trade a night out with friends for a quiet evening in with their boyfriend. That was never your style. It was always a point of contention with past boyfriends. They always wanted more of your time, wanted more of your presence, but the idea of slowing down for someone else always felt like a compromise.

But somehow, with Spencer, it doesn’t quite feel like you're giving up anything at all. The simple, quiet moments with him have a gravity you never expected. Cooking dinner together while music hums softly in the background, curling up on the couch with a movie you’ve both seen a dozen times, or just sitting in comfortable silence as he reads and you scroll through your phone. The domesticity, the softness, the ease of it all—it feels complete. With Spencer, those quiet evenings aren’t boring. They’re grounding. For the first time, the thought of being home doesn’t feel like a concession; it feels like choosing happiness.

Honestly, you don’t really know how the team hasn’t put two and two together yet. Maybe it’s because you and Spencer had always been close—it was easy for them to chalk it up to that. Since you’d joined a year ago, it just felt natural to click with him, the two of you always slipping into the same rhythm. You were closest in age, after all, and the team had seen you trading inside jokes over takeout on stakeouts, hunched over books in the quiet moments after cases. In their eyes, it was harmless, a friendship born of long hours and shared exhaustion—Not that that came without teasing. 

The question was always there, floating just beneath the surface of their casual remarks. Words unspoken, a line uncrossed. That is, until a tense night in Texas where you had gotten far too close to an unsub. The team had gotten to you in time of course, they always do. But that didn't help shake off the lingering memories of the encounter as you stared out the window of the jet. It was so simple—a quiet look, his hand slipping into yours, his thumb gently tracing over your trembling fingers as you looked out the window trying to dispel the the thoughts of whatever had happened just hours ago—and suddenly, it was like every wall you’d both put up had just vanished. His touch held a weight that words couldn’t carry, and in that touch, something between you shifted, settling into a place neither of you had been willing to acknowledge before. Looking back, maybe you’d both felt it coming long before, but neither of you had dared to say it out loud. 

You and Spencer had made the decision together—keep things quiet a little while longer. It wasn’t the right time. Not yet. You wanted to savour the privacy of your stolen moments: his hand brushing yours during late-night coffee runs, your head resting on his shoulder as you both tried to survive the tail-end of a grueling case. It was fragile, precious. You could already hear the laughter, the surprise, the “We knew it!” and the endless questions about how long it had been going on, how you kept it from them, how you didn’t tell them sooner. And you could already feel the weight of that—how you’d both be under a microscope in a way you just weren’t ready for. You liked the privacy, the simple, quiet moments that only the two of you shared. It was yours, together, something no one else needed to know about just yet.

The days leading up to the party are a blur of frantic cleaning, shoving Spencer’s belongings into anywhere they can fit. “Emily’s a hawk with this stuff,” Spencer mutters, half-buried in a pile of mismatched socks and paperbacks. It had started with a few quick attempts at tidying up, but soon it turned into a frenzy of stuffing things—his things—into every drawer and cupboard you can find trying to make your place look like you’re just you. 

You hold up a pair of slippers with a dubious look. “Do these scream, ‘man secretly living here’?” You hesitate, then stuff them into your wardrobe anyway. “Hotch will see the shoes. He’s thorough.” At one point, Spencer just starts throwing random clothes into a duffel bag with a kind of desperate determination, muttering something about how “Derek knows way too much about my wardrobe”. Despite the chaos, there’s laughter—giddy, shared moments, like when Spencer hisses in horror at your attempt to cram his gift—an English copy of War and Peace—under the coffee table. “That’s sacrilege,” he whispers furiously, clutching the book to his chest as if shielding it from harm. You have to bite back a grin.

There’s a particular moment though, when you’re crouched beside the couch again, frantically trying to shove a few stray novels underneath the coffee table hoping they’ll blend in with the meticulously arranged stack of Architectural Digest magazines you’d placed there purely for ‘decorative purposes’. Spencer suddenly peeks out from the bedroom, his eyes wide with alarm, his expression a mix of disbelief and panic. “Hey, can you, uh, maybe not put those under the coffee table?” he whispers urgently. 

You pause, halfway through your task, and blink up at him. “Why?”

“It’s just—” He looks around frantically as though an ominous presence has settled around you. “They will know. They’ll know,” he repeats, shaking his head, the weight of some unspeakable doom settling over him. It’s all you can do not to burst out laughing. You try to keep the situation light, but then you see the look in Spencer’s eyes. This is serious business. 

And you nearly lose it, stifling a laugh so hard it hurts. The sheer absurdity of the situation.  Yet, beneath the humour, there’s something grounding about it—in the middle of the chaos, the intimacy of it all hits you harder than you expected. This isn’t just a mess; it’s your mess. Your life together. And it’s everything.

By the time the day comes and the team arrives, the apartment looks borderline staged. You feel a little more prepared—almost confident even. You breathe a little easier, relieved that all the obvious signs have been concealed. You act casual, ushering them in with drinks and snacks, but the sharp-eyed profilers in the room are already picking up on things you’ve missed. Rossi’s gaze flickers to the second set of keys on the hook. JJ raises an eyebrow at the coffee machine by your counter. You don't drink coffee. And Derek? He’s grinning like the cat that caught the canary, leaning against the wall and watching it all unfold.

“Nice place,” he says smoothly, his tone loaded. Rossi’s eyes fall on the meticulously organized bookshelf, your heart stutters. “War and Peace,” he says, picking up the hefty copy with a raised brow. “Yours?” 

You freeze, your stomach sinking, silently cursing yourself for giving in to Spencer’s insistence that it was too precious to be shoved under the dusty coffee table. It had seemed fine at the time, but you should’ve known better. 

“Yes,” you say too quickly. “Mine. I’m really, uh, passionate about Tolstoy.”

Derek raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “Since when?

You flounder, trying to remember any of Spencer’s ramblings about the book that you may or may not tune out at times. Your mind races as you remember brief mentions about symbolism and war and societal constraints. “Since, um…well, you know, Tolstoy is…deep. About…symbolism. And…life.”

Spencer, bless him, is standing behind them in your kitchen, making desperate hand signals to help you out. He subtly taps his chest, mouthing “individualism,” then points at his head, clearly trying to convey something intellectual that’s just not coming through. His hands flutter around like he’s illustrating the grandness of Russian literature, and you do your best to follow his cues. You latch onto it like a life raft. “Individualism and thinking about—uh—society!” You nod vigorously, wishing you could disappear into the floor. Emily eyes you, smiling a little too knowingly. Spencer, meanwhile, is practically acting out War and Peace like a mime in the background, pretending to hold a musket, then making exaggerated ‘thinking’ gestures, trying to help you navigate this act. 

“I just love Tolstoy’s exploration of, uh, individual identity within societal constraints…” you manage, brows furrowing as if trying to convince even yourself of the words spilling out. Rossi’s brow lifts, skepticism dancing in his eyes, but he says nothing, clearly amused as he watches you scramble, letting you dig yourself a little deeper. He’s David Rossi for a reason—The man’s silence is practically weaponized, making you ramble on and on, as if you’ll somehow stumble your way into a believable explanation. You’re nervous-rambling now and you can feel yourself grasping at threads, scrambling to remember something—anything—that sounds remotely convincing. You start stumbling over a vaguely remembered plot point and that’s when Spencer starts making his way towards you from the kitchen, grimacing as you butcher the story. He walks toward you almost as if to steady you, a silent plea for you to stop digging yourself a bigger hole than you already have. “Yeah, well… it’s, uh, definitely a classic,” he says, stepping in.

Spencer subtly coughs behind his hand, catching Derek’s attention for just a second—enough to let you scramble for closing line. But the team’s smirks only grow. “Well,” Emily says with a laugh, “if you’re such a big fan of this Tolstoy guy, why don't you tell us your favorite passage hm?” You try not to cast a desperate look Spencer’s way. Spencer opens his mouth like he’s about to cut in, but Derek catches his attention with a look that says, Don’t even think about it, Spence.

Their eyes dart between the two of you, waiting for something. You can feel the tension building. Spencer stands there looking on, probably trying to telepathically send you the correct Tolstoy quote—or any Tolstoy quote at this point, but you’re lost in a sea of flailing words and desperate thoughts.

“Uh, no, actually, I don’t have a favorite passage,” you finally stammer. “It’s just, you know, the themes are really profound.”

Emily crosses her arms and gives you a once-over, clearly reveling in whatever spectacle just unfolded. “Uh-huh.” You roll your eyes, but before you can fire back, Rossi smoothly redirects the group’s attention to the kitchen, likely throwing you a lifeline to salvage what little dignity remains. You and Spencer exchange glances, his lips quirking in the faintest hint of a smile. It’s a private little conspiracy you two have shared for half a year, but now, as the night wears on, it’s starting to feel like the universe has other plans.

It doesn’t help that your team is sharp—they catch everything, a roomful of profilers who thrive on details, and tonight, every small habit, every casual touch seems magnified. Garcia narrows her eyes when she spots Spencer absentmindedly reaching to fix the crooked frame on the shelf. “You know where that goes, huh, Boy Wonder?” she teases, winking, and Spencer mumbles something about “aesthetic consistency,” looking thoroughly flustered.

You try to brush it off, laughing along with her, but then there’s Hotch, eyeing the stack of board games in the corner, the ones you both picked out last month on a whim. “Didn’t know you were into game nights, Y/N,” he comments. “Oh, yeah. Huge fan of… Scrabble,” you say, your voice a little too high, trying not to look at Spencer, who’s doing everything he can to stifle a laugh. 

You can practically hear the thoughts running through his head, probably remembering the night you’d blown up at him after he beat you four times in a row with a ridiculously pretentious winning word—quixotic, no less. You’d been so mad, you’d tossed your tiles and stormed off like a petulant child. Now, judging from the way he's trying to hide his grin, the twitch at the corner of his lips, it's clear he hasn’t forgotten the fiery aftermath either. You roll your eyes, fighting back a smile. 

Your life with him has become this strange, endearing mix of shared routines and accidental collections. Where he’s meticulous, you’re spontaneous, always flying by the seat of your pants and, at times, leaving him with a resigned sigh when you’ve left your keys in places you never should. It’s a quiet chaos, but it works. And now, as you stumble through the evening, every little piece of your life— your lives are flashing under the team’s increasingly suspicious gaze. 

JJ picks up a scarf lying casually on the floor, half-tucked beneath one of your jackets. She holds it up with a curious look. “Hey, Spence, this yours?” Spencer’s heart skips a beat, and he quickly tries to school his expression, but the wide-eyed panic is hard to hide. He looks at the scarf as if it’s just been resurrected from the depths of his lost belongings. “Oh thanks!” he says, dramatically, “I’ve been looking everywhere for that!” He reaches for the scarf with an eagerness that betrays his attempt at nonchalance, fumbling with it awkwardly. “I thought I’d lost it,” he adds, his words tumbling out in an over-explained rush as his fingers fuss with the fabric.

JJ doesn't buy it. Not for a second. “Funny, I thought you brought it with you today,” she says, a knowing smirk creeping onto her face. “Since, you know, it’s right here by the door.”

Spencer freezes again, scrambling for a response. “Right... yeah, that—that makes sense. Of course.” He forces out a laugh, the sound more nervous than casual, and wraps the scarf around his neck with an exaggerated flourish. “Good to have it back,” he adds weakly, trying and failing to look composed.

JJ just shakes her head, her grin widening. “Sure, Spence. Whatever you say.” She watches him for a moment longer, clearly amused by the whole thing, before finally turning away, letting him stew in his overdramatic act. As soon as she’s out of earshot, Spencer breathes a sigh of relief, but his cheeks are still tinged with pink, and he can’t help but glance nervously over at you hoping you’re doing a better job than him at keeping this increasingly bad act up. 

By the time Garcia corners Spencer in the kitchen, her grin is practically predatory. “You guys are terrible at this, you know.” Spencer looks all too comfortable setting dishes away for someone who has only ever been to your place 'once or twice'. Spencer sighs, defeated, but there’s a soft smile tugging at his lips as he watches you across the room. “Yeah,” he says, more to himself than to her. “We are.” Spencer, at least, seems resigned, a faint smirk playing at the corners of his lips as he watches you across the room, fumbling as you desperately try (and fail) to explain away a forgotten pair of mismatched socks by the door—somehow "yours" now, despite them clearly being too big.

You can feel your cheeks burning as the night progresses, their eyes catching every little detail—his fingers brushing against yours when he hands you a drink, the way you absentmindedly drape your arm behind him on the couch as the night winds down after one too many said drinks. The team exchanges knowing glances, soft chuckles bubbling up around you as they take in every stray look and subtle movement between the two of you. 

As you say your goodbyes and thank yous, it’s clear you’ve been thoroughly caught. Emily snickers, shaking her head as she slips on her coat. “You two are adorable,” she murmurs, grinning without trying to hide it. You clear your throat feigning innocence, trying to look casual. She turns back with a sly smirk, her voice laced with amusement. “So Spence," she asks, challenging, "You staying the night?”

The room falls silent. They all know. You both know they know. Spencer, ever the professional, tries to brush it off. “I’ll help clean up,” he says nonchalantly, but the team is already rolling their eyes, clearly seeing right through the act. They’ve been in this business long enough to recognize the signs.

You try to come up with something clever but Spencer knows it’s game over. He steps in beside you and there’s that look on his face, that soft, earnest expression he gets when he’s about to confess something—whether it’s a fact about astrophysics or a half-hidden truth he’s been holding close. “Alright, alright” he says, glancing at you for reassurance. “You got us.”

Spencer slips his hand into yours, his fingers warm and steady, grounding you in this moment. A round of knowing laughter echoes through the room, with Derek clapping Spencer on the back, Garcia gasping dramatically, and Rossi chuckling, muttering something along the lines of “about time”.

Spencer squeezes your hand. You squeeze back.

The team leaves you with a final round of cheers and teasing winks, and as the door clicks shut, you turn to Spencer, his smile mirroring your own. You hear the unmistakable whoops and cheers from outside. A laugh bubbles up inside you.

Once the house quiets and the last footsteps fade away, Spencer pulls you into his arms. The soft glow of the christmas lights he'd helped you put up yesterday creates a warm halo around him as he looks down at you, that adoring smile still tugging at his lips. “Guess the secret’s out,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing lightly across your cheek.

You shake your head, a little amused at how badly you’d tried to cover up something everyone already knew. “We really are terrible at this,” you admit.

“Well,” he replies in a low voice, “it could’ve gone worse.”

You laugh, resting your head against his chest. “Think they bought it, even for a moment?”

“Not a chance sweetheart,” he whispers, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “But it was fun watching you try.”

You lean into him, the warmth of his touch, his presence grounding you in a way you never expected but now can't imagine living without. You look around the room, taking in the space you’ve shared together. Sure, most of his belongings are still hidden away, tucked somewhat haphazardly in the cupboards or behind closed doors, but there are traces of him everywhere. It’s in the small things—the little hints of Spencer imprinted into the fabric of your life.

There are hints of Spencer in the kitchen sink, the one he fixed when it started leaking a few months ago. You had been ready to call a plumber, but Spencer had insisted he could handle it. He always does.

There are hints of Spencer in how you've stopped arranging your plates a certain way just for aesthetics because he'd proven how much more convenient it was to stack them according to how often you used them.

There are hints of Spencer in the stain on the couch from pasta night three weeks ago, a mishap that still makes you both laugh whenever you catch sight of it.

There are things only the two of you can understand. A code only the two of you can decipher. Small, unnoticed details that no one else can see—No matter how observant they are, no matter how well they think they can read you. 

And so maybe it's okay that the secret you’ve shared for months now belongs to the people who matter most. Because as you think of these little hints of Spencer—the way he’s subtly woven himself into your life and you into his—you realize that some things do get to stay your own little secret after all. And in that, there’s something beautiful, something that’s just yours.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ hi if you're here! thank you for reading! feel free to like or reblog or comment or reply!

[reiderwriter]

Hi, so I have a request, but please don't feel pressured to write it now.

I was wondering if you could please do a scene or scenario where Spencer shouts out in desperation and panic "where's my wife" after a close call with the team on a very dangerous case.

A/N: I put a bit of a twist on your request so I hope you still enjoy it! Thank you for requesting~♡

Warnings: minor injury to canon characters, explosion, temporary loss of hearing, sight, etc.

The force of the blow was so strong that when Spencer Reid finally came to, a few seconds after hitting the ground hard, he couldn't hear a thing. 

Whether it was adrenaline, or an injury, or pure shock, his senses were numb, and the only thought in his head as he started screaming was of you. 

“Wh-where,” he coughed, shaking his head to try and focus. “Where's my wife?” 

His voice was quiet and weak at first, but it didn't matter to him. After all, he couldn't hear the words at all. He just felt his lips form the words and knew the familiar vibrations in his throat meant the sound was escaping into the wind. 

You pushed through crowds with a scream as you tried to get through to your team. Spencer wasn't the only one close to the blast. 

Emily, JJ, Morgan, and Hotch were all in various states of disarray around you as you ran back from the car across the street. You'd run back to check some files, feeling something off, and the heat and loud boom behind you was the confirmation you'd been looking for that you were right. 

After his first few attempts, Reid still couldn't see you, much less hear you or touch you or press his arms around you and not let go. He struggled to his feet and began calling again. 

“Where's my wife? Where is… WHERE'S MY WIFE?” His voice broke, and he  coughed gasped through each word, but he didn't stop. 

He stumbled forward, looking to see you through the haze of dust that had erupted from the blast site. Morgan ran to his side just as he tripped, pulling an arm under his as they stumbled together away from the rubble. 

“Where is she? She was right here, I need-” he coughed, leaning more on Morgan than he was walking for himself as his ankles twisted under him. 

“Hey, hey kid, we're okay. We need to get away from the blast, okay? Away.” 

Spencer kept rambling, though, his ears ringing as he blinked away his confusion and the panic creeped in stronger. 

“My wife, where is she? Morgan, I have to find her, she could be hurt,” he demanded, his voice stronger now as he pushed out of Morgan's grip. 

Ambulances and police cars were beginning to pull up, half of them already having been on route when your team had pulled up. 

Spencer searched through the crowd, sorting through faces until he found the one he desperately needed to see. 

Emily and JJ had been thrown back towards the cars, but both seemed to have missed big shrapnel and other injuries. He watched them clutch each other and stumble behind the cars as they called into their phones, requesting backup. 

Hotch was similarly talking fast to surrounding officers, and though he looked fine, he clutched his knee in his hand. The already dark material of his pants was somehow darker, and shinier in places, and it was only a moment later that Spencer realized a large chunk of shrapnel was jutting out of his leg, just above the knee. 

Rossi had been the furthest from the blast, bar you, and it was him that Spencer saw next, dusting off his clothes as he moved quickly to assess the scene. 

Morgan was still worriedly trailing behind him as he tripped over his feet. 

“Where's my wife? Where's my wife?” 

He finally saw you then, as you dove into the dust and smoke to assist your team. He was just about to fall to his knees when you ran to him, holding him up under his arms as he wrapped himself around you. 

“Found you. I found you, you're okay?” He asked, hands gently cradling your cheeks as he asked, tears in his eyes. 

“I'm fine, Spencer. Are you-” 

He silenced you with his lips, mouth slanting down on yours as he pushed every fear, every emotion, every ounce of adrenaline into your body. He kissed you like you'd never been kissed before, with desperation and longing and relief. 

And when he pulled away, he collapsed into your arms. 

Luckily, Morgan had been only steps away and took some of his weight off you as you stood, gasping for air and reeling from the kiss. 

You were so dazed, you collapsed to the floor, your knees giving in beneath you, and both Spencer and Morgan came down with you. The three of you were weak and traumatized, and emotions were running high, which is why you tried not to be offended by Morgan's line of questioning. 

“How long have you two been married?” He asked, and you were suddenly taken further aback. 

“What?” 

“Reid was looking for his wife. He was shouting ‘where's my wife? I need to find her.’ He was desperate. He was pushing away from me, and then he saw you, and he relaxed.” Despite the blow of the explosion and the now whirl of shrill sirens surrounding them, Morgan laid every word out carefully, like you would blow just as easily given the chance. 

“I'm not… we're not…Morgan, we're not even dating. I don't know what that was but…” 

Your hands carefully stroked Spencer's hair, gently smoothing it out of his eyes as you searched for answers in the man's unconscious form. 

You didn't stop until the paramedics arrived four minutes later, sitting unblinking as they hooked him up to an oxygen tank and carted him off to the nearest hospital. 

XXX 

The second time Spencer Reid awoke, it was dark outside, and the lights were low. But you were at his bedside, sleeping with your head by his legs, and your breathing was steady. So he let his eyes close again, not registering any of the pain the day had inflicted, and let himself sleep beside you. 

XXX

The third time Spencer Reid awoke, you were gone. He wasn't alone, though. Rossi sat upright in a chair beside the window of his hospital room, reading from what looked to be a case file. 

“Spencer, glad to see you returned to the land of the living,” Rossi said, noticing the younger man's movement and walking to his side. He pressed a button, and a doctor raced in, closing the door gently behind him. 

“Where is she? Where is-” 

“Spencer, it's okay. Everyone's okay. The doctor needs to run through some questions with you to check if you're feeling okay. Do your best to answer, okay, genius?” 

Spencer nodded, ignoring the small ache in his head, so similar to the headaches he'd been plagued with in earlier years. 

The doctor ran through standard questions, checked his blood pressure, checked his reactions, and made sure physically he was fine before moving on to more probing issues. 

“Doctor Reid, I'm going to ask you some simple questions about yourself now to assess for any neurological damage.” 

Reid nodded, regretting it instantly, but wanting to get out of the hospital as fast as possible to see you.  

“How old are you, Doctor Reid?” 

“Thirty, I'll be thirty-one this fall.” The doctor nodded and continued. 

“Where did you grow up?” 

“Las Vegas, Nevada. My mom still lives there. She's a patient at Bennington Sanitarium.” 

The doctor nodded and continued. 

“Are you married, Doctor Reid?” 

“Yes, my-” Spencer had to cut himself off as he processed the question fully. Was he married? No. He didn't remember any wedding. He had no romantic arrangement with anyone at this point in time. So why was he saying yes? 

Your face flashed into his head, and he grabbed his chest as his heart ached. It wasn't your face as he usually saw it, but that dazed and shocked expression you'd worn after he'd kissed you. 

He blanched and reclined slightly, suddenly needing all the pillows on the bed for more support as he realized the weight of his mistake. 

“Doctor Reid? Doctor Reid, did you understand the question?”

“What? Oh, no. No, I'm…I'm not married, I guess.” 

Rossi and the doctor shared a look before the doctor took his leave, promising to check in on you again in a few hours. 

The concerned look from Rossi as his bedside was almost too much to take. 

“Stop looking at me like that, Rossi,” he said, grumbling to himself, suddenly upset at the end of his delusions. 

“Like what? I'm not allowed to look at you now?” 

“You're not allowed to pity me. Where's everyone else? They're okay?” 

Rossi took a seat next to him and sighed.

“Hotch is in surgery - non-critical. They just want to be sure the shrapnel that landed in his leg didn't strike anywhere near a nerve or an artery. Morgan survived with a few bruises and scrapes that make him look even more like an action movie hero. He's coordinating with local law enforcement to catch out bomber.” 

Reid nodded along to each revelation, but his patience was growing thin. Rossi was watching him squirm. Reid, waiting for your name to pop up in conversation so he could talk about you, think about you with a valid excuse. 

“Emily and JJ are back at the motels, Penelope met them there to help them out. Emily's left arm is broken, and she has a nasty cut on her face, JJ twisted an ankle and sprained it pretty bad, so she'll be sitting for a while. I, myself, survived with pleasantly few cuts, a boon given my advancing years-” 

“Y/N, what about Y/N?” Reid finally burst, looking pathetically down at Rossi from his hospital bed. 

“Eager, aren't we?” 

“I need to know she's okay, and that... that she doesn't hate me.” 

“You can find those answers out yourself, kid. My shift is almost over.” 

Rossi stood and grabbed his cup of coffee, saluting Reid as he strolled out of the door. 

Reid was confused until the door opened again thirty seconds later, and you rushed in, breathing heavily as you took in his appearance, checking for damage. 

“Y/N,” he said, sitting up again. “Listen, I'm so, so sorry for kissing you yesterday. My mind must've been jumbled after the explosion and- and I thought you were actually my wife, and we were married-” 

You closed the distance between you quickly, grabbing his cheeks like he had grabbed tours only a day before and planting your lips back on top of his again. 

You kissed him the way you'd been kissed once before. With desperation, and longing, and relief. And when you pulled back, there were tears in your eyes that you didn't let fall, as you pressed yourself into Spencer Reid's arms. 

“Don't. Don't scare me like that again. I thought we'd lost you, I thought you'd kissed me and then - and then died!” You ranted, your arms gesturing wildly, every few seconds pausing to rake a hand through your hair. 

“You're not angry?” 

“Yes. Yes, I am angry, Spencer. You got hurt again, I'm seething.” 

“At me. You're not angry at me for kissing you?” He asked, smiling up as you goofily, a little bit worse for wear, but still shining nonetheless. 

“Oh. No. I was confused, but I'm not angry.” 

“Good,” he said, nodding, the two of you falling into an awkward, tense silence. You picked at dust on his shoulder as he stared at you, neither of you bold enough to say another word until the tension was palpable and Spencer Reid burst open. 

“Can I kiss you again?” 

[fliesforeyes]

spencer that has the weakest pullout game and can’t help but cum inside reader cos she feels so good

it was the first time you and spencer reid had fucked without a condom. he didn't expect it to feel so different, so good, with you wrapped around him, nothing there to seperate the two of you.

he was deep inside you, hips pushing up against the backs of your thighs as he thrusts inside of you, the sound of skin hitting skin and your sopping pussy filled the room. but of course, that was drowned out by spencers moans, his whine, his curses, his whispers. his small,

"oh my god, you feel so good"

"youre so perfect like this"

"making me feel so good sweetheart"

"fuck, i love you so much,"

his voice cracked between words. you heard him so perfectly, with his head buried in your shoulder. your skin was wet with his spit, a result from the wet, sloppy kisses he'd place in the curve of your neck on a particularly good thrust, or after his quiet praises.

your fingers buried in his hair, the other holding onto the smooth of his back. one of spencers hands held him up, his other palm rested on your waist. his voice raised in pitch, moans breaking with desperate pleas.

"baby, please, please can i cum? can i cum inside you? oh my- fuck please let me cum in you please," he rambled almost senselessly, drunk on the feeling of you.

an excited, erratic nod of your head and your whispered, "yes, please yes spencer, please cum in me," were enough to set him over the edge.

spencer came hard, legs shaking as his hips stalled pressing against your own, breathing labored and heavy. he was sure to kiss 'thank yous' into your soft skin. it felt so dirty, but so good, it would be such a shame if this happened again.

and again, and again, and again.

[avis-writeshq]

hi ! love ur fics <3

can i request reader as being a massive flirt publicly towards spencer but when its Intimate and Private, reader is suddenly Stunned and Speechless and Blushing and spencer kinda gets the confidence to Do Stuff

im sorry if that was the stupidest described ask ever achh but lov u !

pairing: s9!spencer reid x bau!fem!reader genre: established relationship, bombshell-ish(?) reader, fluff warnings: 16+ for kind of suggestive? he’s so in love UGH a/n: thank you for requesting !! wc: 1.22k

Spencer thinks that you are the most beautiful person in the world. He thinks that you’re glowing every time you walk into the room– no matter how upset or disgruntled you may be– and as cliche as it may seem, he’s certain that swarms butterflies fill his stomach and cloud his mind. In fact, he thinks that you have always had that effect on him, ever since he’s met you. You’re touchy, and despite Spencer’s general aversion to physical touch, he finds that he doesn’t mind your germs much. 

Very often he finds himself at your mercy, with the way your fingers brush against his face as if it’s nothing, as if that movement alone was something that you do with everyone (you’ve only ever done it with him). There are other instances where you’ve been very blatant in your attraction towards him, so much so that he ends up with his cheeks hot more often than not. A part of him is grateful that though you work in the FBI, it isn’t his division. He doubts he’d be able to see the end of it.

“Spencer,” you gush, curling your fingers into the ends of his hair. Or rather, lack of hair. “You got a haircut. You’re supposed to consult me first, you know.”

He laughs, looking up at you as you stand over him while he sits at his desk. “Is that what a good boyfriend is supposed to do?”

“Yes.” You speak with mock indignation, properly running your fingers through his hair from his fringe to the back of his head. “It’s so short.”

“Do you hate it?” There’s a momentary pang of unease that strikes at his heart. “Maybe I should have consulted you.”

“No, baby, it looks really good.” You smile at him, pressing a kiss to his hairline. “You’re warm. Do you have a fever?”

Of course I’m warm, Spencer wants to say while you continue to dote on him, your hands travelling to his collar next and brushing against his throat. You’re touching me in the middle of the bullpen. 

He opts to not say anything when he sees your knowing smile. You’re doing this on purpose. He clicks his tongue, squeezing at your waist lightly as you lean over him to kiss his forehead. He’ll let you win this battle; he’s going to get you back.

***

He doesn’t really know how to get you back. There are a few harmless things he’d thought of doing: sneaking into your department and hiding your mug on the top shelf (he fears that you’d ask someone, a taller more handsome someone, to rescue it for you), not wearing the tie you picked out for him that morning (he can already envision your disappointed frown and his chest aches at the imaginary you getting upset because of him), and putting toothpaste in your Oreos (he doesn’t want to die). 

All of these ideas go down the drain and he ends up not getting back at you for days. It doesn’t help that he’s been gone for a case while you’ve been stuck at home. It isn’t all bad, and a part of him wishes that he can hold himself to the same level of confidence as Derek when Penelope calls him with flirtatious motives. You do virtually the same thing. 

Your words are honey as you shower him with compliments, ending him with a simple “Hey, gorgeous.” 

It is enough to make his heart leap to his throat and his cheeks to warm to a pretty pink. There’s not much overlap between the Human Resources Branch and the BAU, especially considering that you assist more on the training and hiring side of things, so there aren’t many opportunities for you to fluster him when he’s out of the office. He finds that you always make an excuse.

“Hi,” he responds softly, avoiding the teasing gazes of Emily and Derek. “Is… are you okay?”

“Do I need to not be okay to talk to my lovely boyfriend?” 

You’re teasing him, poking fun at the way he so easily surrenders to you. He resists the urge to run out the room. 

“Stop,” he warns half-heartedly. He says your name quietly, tapping his fingers at the edge of the table. “Is there something you needed?”

He can practically hear you smile as you respond, the sound of your mouse clicking in the background. “Oh, yeah. My computer says that my storage is full. What do I do?”

“Your storage is full,” he repeats, smiling. “That’s why you called me?”

“It’s lunchtime in Santa Monica, right?”

He relents, cheeks hurting from how hot and stretched out they are. “Yes.”

“Then it shouldn’t be a problem.” 

He puffs out a breath of air, running his fingers through his hair. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You’re lovely.” He can imagine you batting your eyes, your smile saccharine. “Don’t you wish that you were here, gorgeous?”

He’s definitely going to get you back.

*** 

Spencer goes to your apartment once the case ends, his eyes dreary with sleep and the horrors that he saw only a few hours prior. Your apartment key hangs next to his on his keychain– a limited edition Tardis charm that you got him for his birthday. He huffs out a breath, unlocking your door and stepping inside. He’s met with you dancing around in your kitchen, headphones on whilst holding a wooden spoon. A part of him is concerned with how easily he could slip into your home without being notice, but the other part can’t help but smile at how carefree you look, and he leans against the wall to stare. 

He doesn’t get the opportunity to stare for long. It’s comical, the way you jump upon seeing him, eyes wide as you rip your headphones off. 

“You’re back! You scared me.” A smile stretches across your lips while you press your palm to your chest whilst taking steps towards him. “Don’t do that ever again.”

Spencer laughs, toeing his shoes off and resting his hands on your waist. His head dips down to meet your gaze, peering up at you with a soft smile. “You look beautiful.”

Your cheeks glow warm and you break eye contact. “Yeah?”

“Mm.” He hooks his pointer finger under your chin, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. “I missed you.”

He notes the way you don’t respond, in some sort of daze while your lips part in both surprise and flusteredness. He understands your sentiments– it isn’t often that he initiates affection. 

“Did you miss me, too?” Spencer asks softly, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he speaks. 

“Of course I did,” you croak out, heat building in your head. 

Spencer chuckles, a smug smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. He’s doing this on purpose, flustering you to the point of no return. He kisses you again, one hand holding the base of your head while the other squeezes at the flesh of your waist. It’s dizzying, the taste of coffee on his tongue and the feel of his fingers in your hair. 

“Hey, gorgeous,” he murmurs once he’s pulled away. His thumb rubs a line from the back of your ear to where your jawline starts, and he can’t help but chuckle. “Where did that confidence go, hm?”

reblogs are always appreciated!

[0o-junebug-o0]

First Meeting

summary: You're having difficulty with some code so you stop by Penelope's house for help, unaware that she has a guest. Spencer takes one look at you and is immediately head over heels.

genre: fluff

cw: meet cute (is it a meet cute?) completely gn!reader (reader is not described at all), no use of y/n, autistic!spencer (because every spencer is autistic!spencer), season 1 spencer, university/college student reader, talk about research and coding, pov switch from reader to spencer

wordcount: 1.5k

a/n: this is an actual error I had this summer when writing my spectra analysis code

You lean back in your chair with a sigh, scowling at the code you’re trying to write. You’re still relatively new to coding, the first time you ever took a class on it was just under two years ago, so this code has taken you significantly more time to write than it would have taken Penelope. But you’ve written it. You read through the code again and rerun it. Everything runs fine, the code should work, but it doesn’t. 

You rub your eyes and groan with frustration. You should be able to get a wavelength solution out of this. The professor you’re doing research with told you what you need to do to get the wavelength solution and then how to use it to find the redshift of the lensed galaxy and the foreground lensing galaxy, but nothing is lining up!

You’ve opened the data, plotted the variation in flux for each line in the image, fit a Gaussian to it to get the brightest point, and converted the pixel value of that point to vacuum wavelength, but none of the wavelengths you’re finding match up with what lines should be present in the spectra for this lamp type!

You briefly consider emailing your professor but decide against it. Even though he told you that asking him things wouldn’t bother him and that it’s his job, you don’t want to take up more of his time than you already have. 

You look around your apartment for anything that might help. Your eyes land on your keychain and the spare key Penelope gave you because she enjoys it when you stop by. You quickly shut your laptop, tucking it under your arm, grab your keys, slip on a pair of shoes, and make your way down the hall to Penelope’s apartment, not bothering to lock the door behind you. 

_____

Spencer sits awkwardly on one of Garcia’s kitchen stools, tapping his fingers on the Tardis mug she had filled with tea and given him. He’s not exactly sure why Garcia invited him over. She said she wanted to bond, but they’ve known each other for almost two years now, and Spencer considers her a good friend, so he doesn’t really know what bonding entails. So far, Garcia has just been bustling around her kitchen preparing snacks and drinks for their Doctor Who marathon.

The lock clicks and Spencer’s head whips toward the door just in time for it to burst open. Spencer freezes and stares at you in awe and confusion. 

“Penny!” you cry, your voice a mixture of a shout and a whine. 

Garcia calls your name with a surprised look. “What happened? Are you alright?”

“What?” you ask. Then you wave your hand flippantly. “Yeah I’m fine, I just need help with some code.” Your eyes land on Spencer and he can feel his heart rate increase. He really hopes his face isn’t as red as it feels. 

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t know you had someone over,” you say. “I can, um, I can come back later.”

Spencer watches as your posture stiffens slightly and you start to fiddle with your keychain. 

Spencer opens his mouth to reassure you but Garcia beats him to it. “No, no, it’s fine,” she says. “I’ve been wanting you two to meet anyway.” You shoot Spencer a small, awkward smile and wave from across the room when Garcia shares your name. When she introduces him, your eyes widen and you look toward Garcia with an expression Spencer can’t decipher and mouth something to her that makes her laugh loudly. 

Spencer can feel himself flushing at your reaction and takes a sip of his tea to hide his face.

“Anyway!” Garcia says cheerfully. “Do you mind if I help them real quick?”

“Go ahead,” Spencer responds, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. It’s difficult with you there, though, all his thoughts suddenly seem much harder to grasp. Like your presence is forcing them aside. 

Your eyes seem to linger on him for a moment before you head over to the counter and set your laptop down. “Right,” you mutter, opening it and entering the password. Spencer listens intently as you describe to Garcia what your code should be doing and he can’t help but smile at the clear passion in your voice. It sends butterflies to his stomach. 

“What do you study?” Spencer blurts out. 

You close your mouth and cock your head at him for a moment. “I’m, uh, I’m studying astrophysics. Specifically strong gravitational lensing. I’ve already made preliminary models of the system and I’m just working on analyzing the spectra now.”

Spencer nods and leans over to look at your code. 

“Do you want to help Penny find the issue?” you ask. You sound a bit nervous and Spencer looks up and smiles what he hopes is a soothing smile.

“I would if I could. I really don’t know how to code, though.”

“Seriously?” you ask. Spencer cocks his head at the tone of surprise in your voice. “Sorry, it’s just that Penny has told me a lot about you and about how you’re a genius and have three PhDs, which is insanely impressive by the way, so I guess I’m just surprised you don’t know something.”

“There’s a lot I don’t know,” Spencer admits. “Coding and other technological things are some of it. I don’t know too much about astrophysics either.” That’s not exactly true but it isn’t a lie either. He’s read papers on several astrophysical topics but he’s never come across one on strong lensing before. But the truth of the statement is irrelevant, the only reason he said it was to find an excuse to spend more time with you.

You smile and Spencer’s stomach feels like it does a backflip. “I won’t be much help teaching you how to code, Penny would be better for that, but I can tell you about some astro stuff at some point.”

“Alright, lovebirds,” Garcia teases and Spencer’s face burns. “Let’s focus.” You nod, clearly also a bit embarrassed, and turn back to your laptop.

“How about I go line by line and tell you what it should do and you let me know if something doesn’t do what I think it does,” you say. Garcia nods and both she and Spencer follow along as you point to and describe each line of code. You get to a printed image of the data file you’re analyzing before Garcia stops you.

“Can you open the file on your computer?” she asks.

You nod and open the file in a new application and move it so it’s side by side with the image in your code. “Wait,” you mutter, glancing back and forth between the two images. “Is that seriously the issue?” Spencer leans forward to get a closer look, the x-axes of the images are flipped. 

You throw your head back with a groan and change the rotation of the file in your code. “I swear, if this works,” you growl. The clear exasperation in your tone makes Spencer chuckle slightly. 

You rerun the code and compare several of the outputs to a list of wavelengths before groaning again and letting your head fall onto the counter. “I hate Python,” you grumble. “Why does it have to switch the axes!” 

Garcia laughs and pats you on the back. You raise your head off the counter and tap your forehead against her shoulder in a gesture Spencer assumes expresses gratitude. “Thanks, Penny,” you sigh. “You’re the best.”

“Of course I am!”

“Oh, and Spencer,” you say, turning to look at him. “We should get lunch sometime. I can tell you about astrophysics and you can tell me about all the crazy things you know.”

“I-I would love that,” Spencer stutters, unable to speak clearly with you looking into his eyes. He's hardly able to wrap his head around the fact that someone as beautiful as you would want to spend more time with him. Spencer's not sure whether you’re asking him on a date or just to go out as friends, but he doesn’t care either way as long as he gets to spend more time with you.

“Great!” you say happily. You stand and cross the room to quickly grab one of Garcia’s pens before returning. You hold the fluffy pink pen with a smile on your face and hold out your hand for his. “May I?” you ask. 

Spencer’s eyes widen and he nods, setting his hand in yours despite his usual aversion to touch. The contact makes his heart feel like it’s about to burst from his chest. You scrawl your number across the back of his hand before handing Spencer the pen and holding out your hand for him to do the same. He writes his number on your hand and watches in a sort of daze as you gather your computer and keys and wave goodbye before leaving.

Spencer jumps slightly as Garcia ruffles his hair. He looks over at her to see a knowing smile on her face. Spencer blushes and hides his face in his hands. “Shut up,” he grumbles, embarrassed.

“No way,” she laughs. “Derek’s going to have a field day with this. Boy genius has a crush!”

_____

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

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[vanteguccir]

── ୨୧ !　SLEEPLESS NIGHT

spencer reid x reader

SUMMARY: Where Spencer finally has a night to sleep at his apartment with his girlfriend, but the current case doesn't even let him close his eyes, leading him to study the files until ungodly hours. But who said that Y/N can sleep away from him?

WARNING: Slightly mention of age gap (reader is still in college), tooth rotting fluff.

REQUESTED?: No.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

Spencer hated bringing work home, and he had two very specific reasons for it. First, he loathed the idea of mixing his work life with his personal life. The BAU was a constant source of darkness; gruesome crimes, twisted minds, and the unrelenting pressure to solve the unsolvable.

His home was the opposite: a place of light and warmth, a refuge from the horrors that haunted him on a daily basis. But more importantly, home was where Y/N was. She was the one person who could pull him from the depths of his thoughts, her mere presence offering a calm that he couldn't find anywhere else. She was his life, his anchor, and his sanctuary.

Their time together was sacred, especially with the demands of his job taking him away so often. Whether he was chasing unsubs across the country or spending endless hours poring over case files at the BAU, being away from Y/N was the hardest part of his job. When he was home, he wanted to be fully present, to make up for the time he lost while he was away.

He cherished the quiet moments, the lazy evenings where they could simply exist together without the weight of the world bearing down on him. He wanted to give her every ounce of his attention, to make her feel just how much she meant to him.

But then, there were nights like tonight, when the case followed him home despite his best intentions, forcing him to divide his focus in a way that always left him feeling guilty.

The bedroom was bathed in the soft glow of moonlight, filtered through the sheer curtains that hung over the windows. The clock on the nightstand read 2:37 AM, its gentle green glow a quiet reminder of how late it had become.

Spencer lay on his back, his eyes trained on the ceiling, though his mind was far from still. It raced, chasing the loose ends of the case, replaying details, searching for the missing link that could unravel everything. The unsub was smart, meticulous in his planning, calculating in his movements. It was unnerving, the way this case was so close to home, right here in Quantico.

Hotch had granted the team a rare night to return home and rest, knowing the work would pick up again with relentless intensity in the morning. Spencer knew he should be grateful for the chance to sleep in his own bed, to hold Y/N close, and let her warmth lull him into rest. But sleep felt impossible.

Beside him, Y/N slept soundly, her body curled against his. One arm rested across his chest, her hand fisting tightly the fabric of his white shirt and her hand tucked beneath his shoulder, as if even in sleep, she sought him out. Her breathing was soft and even, the slow rise and fall of her chest a soothing rhythm against his side.

Spencer turned his head slightly, watching her. She looked peaceful, her face relaxed in sleep, the faintest hint of a smile still lingering on her lips, probably remains of a dream. His heart clenched with love, a wave of warmth and tenderness washing over him.

With a soft sigh, Spencer slid his right arm beneath her, his hand resting gently on her back, the warmth of her skin seeping through the fabric of the sweater she wore - his sweater. He brought his other hand down to her bare leg, carefully shifting her until her right one draped across his thighs, her body instinctively curling closer to him, almost laying fully above him.

His fingers trailed softly along her thigh, the smooth skin warm beneath his touch. The gesture was soothing, grounding him in the present moment, in the feel of her against him. His thumb stroked lazy circles on her flesh, his touch light and reverent, as if he was trying to memorize the feel of her - as if he already didn't had each part of her craved inside his head.

He leaned down, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead, lingering there for a moment as he breathed in the familiar, comforting scent of her hair. It was a mixture of her shampoo and something uniquely hers, a scent that had always brought him comfort. His lips brushed against the delicate skin of her closed eyelids, another kiss pressed to her temple. She stirred slightly but didn’t wake, her hand tightening its grip on his shirt.

His right hand traveled across the fabric of his sweater, slipping below it, his fingertips sliding higher, brushing against the bare skin of her back. She was so warm, her skin so soft, and the feel of her made something inside him settle, if only for a moment. He continued to stroke her thigh with one hand, his other one gently massaging the muscles of her back, feeling the way her body relaxed further into him.

He stared at her for a long moment, his mind flickering between her and work. He didn’t want to leave her alone in bed, didn’t want to let it drag him away from her. Spencer knew Y/N deserved a good night's sleep more than anyone. She had been tirelessly studying for her college finals, always the most academically involved and dedicated in her class, which caused her to staying up late, buried in textbooks and research papers - just as he spent sleepless nights away on cases.

But even as he held her close, the details of the case gnawed at the edges of his thoughts, refusing to be ignored.

With a reluctant sigh, he carefully began to shift, his movements slow and deliberate, not wanting to disturb her. His hand on her thigh slid away, and he gently eased her leg off his hips, tucking it back beneath the blankets. She mumbled softly in her sleep, her body instinctively moving toward his warmth even as he slipped out from under her.

Spencer sat up, pausing for a moment as he watched her stir. Her hand reached for him in her sleep, her face burrowing further into his pillow as if searching for his scent. The sight made his chest tighten with both affection and guilty.

With one last glance at Y/N, Spencer stood, moving with the quiet precision of someone who was used to slipping away in the dead of night. He padded silently out of the bedroom, the soft sound of his footsteps muffled by the thick carpet beneath his feet.

The apartment was shrouded in a heavy, comfortable darkness, the only sound breaking the quiet being the distant hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen. Spencer moved with practiced silence, stepping lightly through the familiar space until he reached the small room they’d turned into a makeshift office. It was cluttered with his books, scattered papers, and, more recently, case files.

He flicked on the desk lamp, casting a soft, amber glow across the cluttered desk. His movements were slow, careful not to disturb the serene quiet that enveloped the apartment as he sank into his chair, rescuing his folded glasses from between all those papers.

In front of him lay the case file, the photographs of the victims staring back at him as if mocking his inability to piece it all together. He scanned the reports for what felt like the hundredth time, his brow creased in thought, eyes darting over the details.

Minutes bled into an hour, maybe more. His glasses had slipped halfway down his nose as he leaned in closer to the desk, his fingers absentmindedly tracing the outline of the crime scene photos. His other hand tugged at the cuff of his pajama sleeve, lost in the rhythm of his restless thoughts.

Just then, the sound of soft footsteps padding across the wooden floor reached his ears, the faint shuffling of bare feet snapping him out of his thoughts. He barely turned in his chair before he saw her; a sleepy, disheveled Y/N standing in the doorway, her figure backlit by the faint glow of the hallway light. The sleeves of his sweater were falling over her hands, causing her shoulders to become exposed, and her eyes were heavy with the remnants of sleep.

"Spence..." She mumbled, her voice raspy and thick with drowsiness. The sight of her tugged at his heart in the most tender way.

Spencer’s face softened instantly, guilt creeping in at the edges of his thoughts. He’d woken her.

"Hey, sweetheart." He murmured, pushing the file aside and giving her his full attention. His voice was quiet, filled with concern. "What are you doing awake? You should be asleep."

Y/N blinked at him, the bleariness in her eyes making her seem even smaller and more vulnerable. She swayed slightly on her feet, rubbing her eyes with the heel of her hand.

"I woke up... and you weren’t there." She slurred softly, taking a small step toward him, her expression confused and sleepy.

His heart clenched at her words, a wave of guilt washing over him. He hated that he’d caused her to wake up, especially on a week that she spent too much time studying and having little to no rest. He adjusted his posture above the chair, motioning her closer with gentle hands, but Y/N was already moving on her own, shuffling across the room with slow, sleepy steps, her gaze never leaving him.

"I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you, dove." He whispered as she reached him. He reached out with his hands as she practically fell into his arms.

She pushed his arms open with little effort and maneuvered herself onto his lap, pressing against him as if seeking out the warmth she’d missed. Her legs straddled his thighs, her knees resting above the sides of the chair, her body curling around his like a koala hugging a tree. The weight of her felt perfect, grounding him as she nestled closer, her chest rising and falling softly against him.

"Spence, don’t apologize." She murmured, her breath tickling the skin of his neck as she shifted, her nose nuzzling into the curve of it, seeking his scent. She pressed her face against him, her lips brushing feather-light against the sensitive skin just below his ear as she planted a sleepy kiss. "You know I just can’t sleep well without you."

Spencer let out a shaky breath, the soft, familiar feeling of her lips against his neck sending warmth coursing through him. His left hand instinctively found her back, his fingers running to the hem of his sweater and lifting it slightly, making room for hand to enter under the fabric and meet her skin, spreading his fingers as he began tracing lazy circles along her spine, soothing her.

Y/N sighed in pleasure, her left hand gently crawling up to his face. Her fingers softly traced the rough stubble along his cheek before instinctively pushing his glasses back up to their proper place, her fingertips grazing the bridge of his nose in a familiar, soothing motion.

He smiled softly, his guilt still lingering but melting slightly under the comfort of her touch. She was so close, so vulnerable in her half-asleep state, and it made him feel even more protective of her.

"You should be in bed." He whispered, his voice low and affectionate, his hand continuing its gentle caress. "You have finals tomorrow... and this position’s going to make your back hurt in the morning." He tried to sound stern, but the amusement in his tone betrayed him. He couldn’t help but laugh quietly as Y/N shifted again, her hand leaving his face and meeting the other side of his neck, her right arm tightening around his torso in silent protest.

"I don’t care." She mumbled into his neck, her lips brushing against his skin as she spoke. "I love you. I want to be here."

His heart swelled at her words, an overwhelming wave of love flooding him. He turned his head slightly, pressing a kiss to the top of her head, breathing in the comforting scent of her.

"I love you more." He whispered back, his voice barely audible as he nuzzled his cheek against her hair. His hand never stopped its rhythmic movement along her back, his touch gentle and tender.

Y/N hummed in response, her breathing already slowing as the warmth of his embrace lulled her back toward sleep. Spencer could feel the way her body relaxed against his, her weight becoming heavier as she melted further into him. She was so peaceful, her soft breaths brushing against his skin in a steady rhythm.

Spencer's eyes drifted to the case file still resting on the desk, his mind unwilling to let go of the details he was trying to piece together. His hand continued to trail soothing patterns on her back, and he tilted his head down, pressing another kiss to her temple, noticing how her body was giving way to sleep again.

"Let me tuck you back into bed, sweetheart." He whispered against her skin, insisting. "You need the proper rest."

But Y/N shifted in his lap, shaking her head, clearly unwilling to move.

"No." She mumbled, her voice soft but convincing. "What I need is to be with you." She burrowed her face deeper into his neck, pressing her nose against his skin and nuzzling him like she was trying to become a part of him. "Let me stay here. Please."

Spencer sighed softly, feeling torn between the the case and the warmth of Y/N in his arms. He glanced back at Y/N, her soft breathing and her peaceful face pressed against his neck, shaking his head with how stubborn she could be.

Wrapping his arms fully around her, he held her close, one hand still caressing her back while the other pulled the case file closer to him again, reopening it and going back to the first page.

[hereforhalstead]

no but what about Spencer x reader where you’ve had an argument about something stupid but you insist on sleeping on the sofa so you can both ‘cool down’

you spend hours trying to sleep but both of you struggle to sleep without the other tucked into their side so it feels pointless, but you refuse to take yourself up to bed and let him feel like he’s won

it feels like it should be nearly morning when you feel the spot next to you dip, followed by an arm being slung round your waist and a gentle nudge to have your head buried into the crook of a neck

you peel your eyes open, to see Spencer running his fingertips lightly along your arm as he leans his head on top of yours

‘We can go back to arguing in the morning but I can’t take another second without you next to me’

UGH

[sweatervest-obsessed]

Unexpected Visitor

Pairing: Spencer Reid x G!n Reader

WC: 788

A/N: A lil Spencer Xmas Blurb while I figure my shit out. Also! I'm imagining older seasons Spencer for this one.

"Hi! I'm, uh, so sorry to bug you but, um, do you know where Spe--Doctor Reid's desk is? Or, really, where D-Doctor Reid is?" .

Derek Morgan had to get his shit together because his jaw almost dropped when you walked in. What was some hot piece of ass doing, dressed like that, looking for Boy Genius.

He jumped up from his chair and strolled over to where you had stopped Garcia, who was just as flabbergasted as he was. "Reid is currently in a meeting sweetheart--may I ask what you, uh, want with him?"

You raised your eyebrows at the 'sweetheart', but smiled anyways. "He was supposed to be home about an hour ago and he wasn't answering his phone, so instead of panicking, because I know what you do for work, I wanted to come in and check before I lost my shit."

"Home?" Garcia squeaked out, still baffafled by how gorgeous you looked. It was like you were sent straight from heaven, a literal vision.

You nodded and tilted your head, slightly confused. "Y-Yeah...I'm sorry why is that---"

"We just didn't know Reid was living with anyone, let alone seeing someone."

"Ah." You nodded. "He's private like that, isn't he." Your smile warmed the two of them, and you shifted the coat from one arm to the other.

"y/n?"

You turned your head towards the back of the bullpen, and Spencer was walking out of Hatch's office. "What are you doing here?"

"Being introduced to your friends and coworkers since you haven't."

Spencer bit the inside of his cheeks and walked over to you both, placing his hand on the small of your back. You felt how tense he was.

"I'm here because our reservation is in twenty minutes and you said you'd be home over an hour ago." You looked at Spencer, whose eyes went a little wide.

"Shit. I-I didn't realize what time it was---"

"I have your suit in the car, and this is why I made the reservation for eight pm, instead of Seven."

"And this is why I love you." Spencer kissed your head and rushed over to his desk, scrambling to grab all of his papers and his bag and his coat and his scarf and his--

"Hi Y/n." Spencer looked up at the mention of your name, pausing in his frantic nature.

"Hi Aaron." You gave him a quick hug, but a bright smile. "How are you?"

"Well." He laughed a little. "I'd be better if we didn't have to work the day before Christmas Eve since I still need to wrap all of Jack's presents still."

"Oh how is Jack!"

"He's doing well. finally starting to enjoy reading, no thanks to you."

You laughed at his joke, all the while Derek and Garcia just shared an incredulous look. How the hell did you know Hotch? Jack?!? Why does Jack's reading habits connect to you--

"Ready sweetheart?" Spencer appeared at your side and you nodded. "It was lovely to see you Aaron. I'll stop by some time tomorrow to drop off Jack's gifts as well as yours. I got it when Spence I and went to Paris last month. I think you'll enjoy it!"

"That's why you weren't here for two weeks?" Penelope's jaw was on the floor. "I didn't take you to be a Parisian man Doctor Reid."

"W-Well, um--"

"It was for my birthday. My choice. I love art and museums so it made sense. Well, it was lovely to meet you all but we have a reservation to get to." You gave them all a quick smile before taking Spencer's hand and walking towards the elevator, your shoes clicking on the floor with every step you took.

"How long have the two of them been together?" Morgan turned to Hotch after you both had gotten in the elevator.

"I think today is their two year anniversary."

"TWO YEARS." Garcia clutched her hypothetical pearls. "How have I not known? How have WE not known?"

"He's private, and...well. You know Y/n."

"No we clearly do not know Hotch."

Hotch gave them a little smirk and a shrug. "Merry Christmas guys. I'll see you on the twenty-seventh."

As Hotch walked away, Garcia and Morgan just stared at one another. "So we're..."

"Going to spend then next ten minutes in my office finding everything out about this mystery person Spencer has been apparently dating for two years?"

"You read my mind mama. A little Christmas snooping never hurt anyone..."

[outoftheseine]

- SPENCER REID FIC RECS 2 -

he is so pretty i want to cry | note: please be aware of the authors’ warnings before reading. fics include canon tw’s like: violence, death, grief, blood. some fics have 18+ content so minors please DNI.

part 1 | main masterlist

SERIES - MULTI-CHAPTERS

use somebody | part 2 • spencer reid x fem!reader

↳ by @reidmania (sunshine!reader, fluff, pining, slight angst)

sharpest tool • spencer reid x fem!reader

↳ by @reidmania (fluff, angst +18 but not smut, hurt/comfort, miscommunication)

wanted: a gentleman | lips of a gentleman | if you love me right • spencer reid x fem!reader

↳ by @gghostwriter (very fluffy)

make you feel my love | turning tables • spencer reid x bau!fem!reader

↳ by @reidmarieprentiss (hostage situation, angst, rejection, comfort)

just friends! | what a coincidence! • spencer reid x fem!reader

↳ by @tangledinlove (childhood best friends to lovers, fluff)

never forget a face | late-night talking • spencer reid x fem!reader

↳ by @forhappysake (grumpy x sunshine, comfort, a little suggestive, age-gap)

not our scene | part 2 • spencer reid x fem!shy!reader

↳ by @kisses4reid (fake dating, both spencer and reader are shy, fluff)

him • spencer reid x reader

↳ by @godsfavdarling (anxious!reader, hurt/comfort, fluff)

ONE-SHOTS - BLURBS - HC'S

the one with the bra • boyfriend!spencer reid x reader

↳ by @daydreamingqueen1 (fluff, little suggestive)

recharging • spencer reid x fem!reader

↳ by @railingsofsorrow (dad!spencer, fluff, hurt/comfort)

better than revenge • spencer reid x fem!reader

↳ by @avis-writeshq (best friends to lovers, mutual pining, fluff, slowburn, happy ending)

i'll hold your weight when you can't • spencer reid x reader

↳ by @shewroteaworld (sunshine!reader, fluff, comfort)

everytime we touch • spencer reid x gn!reader

↳ by @idmakeitbehave (5+1, fluff)

the playground • dad!spencer reid x fem!reader

↳ by @whiskeyghoul (very fluffy)

misletoe • spencer reid x gn!reader

↳ by @reiding-writing (flufff)

i wish i knew you wanted me • spencer reid x reader

↳ by @irndad (angst, rejection, spencer’s addiction, jealous!spencer)

yours • spencer reid x fem!reader

↳ by @aliteralsemicolon (smut, fluff, a little angst and i think this is idiots in love?)

twenty questions • spencer reid x bau!gn!reader

↳ by @viaisms (fluff)

an “i love you” that isn’t words • spencer reid x reader

↳ by @mcondance (fluff, very domestic)

between heart beats • spencer reid x reader

↳ by @vee6lolz (angst)

not enough • spencer reid x bau!fem!reader

↳ by @g0dlyunsub (angst but also fluff, hurt/comfort)

the whole world • dad!spencer reid x mom!fem!reader

↳ by @spencereid-reads (very fluffy)

i’d give you my sunshine, give you my best • spencer reid x reader

↳ by @mwahmimi (veryy fluffy)

bundle of nerves • spencer reid x fem!reader

↳ by @gghostwriter (fluff, fainting)

down the fire escape and into my heart • spencer reid x fem!reader

↳ by @justawhitebloodcell01 (meet cute, fluff)

call your mom • spencer reid x reader

↳ by @railingsofsorrow (exes to lovers, hurt/comfort)

amorphous • spencer reid x fem!reader

↳ by @pathologicalreid (fluff)

your beauty never scared me • spencer reid x bau!fem!reader

↳ by @auroralwriting (fluff, comfort)

all of the books beside your bed • spencer reid x reader

↳ by @tlou-reid (very fluffy)

cherry picking • spencer reid x fem!reader

↳ by @certaimromance (mentions of sex, miscommunication, fluff)

period disturb • spencer reid x reader

↳ by @vanteguccir (fluff, comfort)

innocent love • spencer reid x fem!reader

↳ by @cookiescribble (smut, fluff, both spencer and reader are virgin)

north star • spencer reid x uni student!reader

↳ by @parfaitblogs (post prison spencer, trauma, nightmares, hurt/comfort)

i keep you clean; you surrounded me • husband!spencer reid x fem!reader

↳ by @nereidprinc3ss (spencer’s addiction, comfort)

dearest friend • spencer reid x reader

↳ by @endearng (idiots in love, jealous!spencer, fluff, a little angst)

the bolter; cannibal• spencer reid x bau!fem!reader

↳ by @ophelia-is-complex (angst, comfort)

opposite • spencer reid x bau!reader

↳ by @reidsbabyhoney (angst, a little fluff)

why didn’t you tell me? • spencer reid x fem!reader

↳ by @unequivocallyreid (smut, angst with happy ending)

heavenly • spencer reid x fem!reader

↳ by @dudeitiskarev (post prison spencer, age-gap, smut, fluff, so so good)

stolen glances • spencer reid x fem!reader

↳ by @justawhitebloodcell01 (fluff)

last, last time • spencer reid x reader

↳ by @sweatervest-obsessed (angst, breakup, kidnapping, tw: dv)

federal beach investigation • spencer reid x fem!reader

↳ by @reidmarieprentiss (fluff)

the prodigy path • spencer reid x fem!reader

↳ by @imagining-in-the-margins (comfort, a little angst, dad!spencer)

two pair • spencer reid x reader

↳ by @unlosts (sososo sweet spencer, fluff)

what do we do now? • spencer reid x fem!reader

↳ by @anniebeemine (unplanned pregnancy, fluff)

light as a feather • spencer reid x fem!reader

↳ by @unseededtoast (fluff, general cm stuff, comfort)

one bright morning • spencer reid x fem!reader

↳ by @unseededtoast (angst, trauma, blood, comfort, lightly suggestive)

[clrasecretdiary]

Why does she give a damn about me? | Spencer Reid x Reader

cutesy, cheesy fluff

In wich Spencer thinks reader is out of his league but she could not be more into him.

Content: Garcia is a queen as always, sunshine!reader

Warnings: Maybe some light lack of self steem from spence, but nothing crazy!!

He was used to it at this point. Being the weird kid in high school and college, Spencer never really expected anyone to be into him and, after being rejected a couple of times, he had practically closed himself off in that sense. But then, you came into the picture.

You are one of those girls that everyone seemed to gravitate toward, not only because of your beauty but because of your essence. You were genuinely kind, smart and good with people in a way he wished he was, maybe that’s why he was so drawn to you, you had all the qualities he wished he had and being close to you made him feel complete.

Needless to say that he was in love with you, it had started as an admiration and when he realized he was thinking about you all the time, but he was sure you would never be into guys like him, he was sure you’d never see him as more than friends.

–

You had joined the team a few years ago, you were excited to finally be doing what you really wanted when you joined the BAU, going out in the field and being on cases instead of just working a desk job all the time. When you first met the team, everyone seemed very welcoming but you felt yourself especially drawn to Spencer out of all people, at first he seemed distant but with time you noticed how sweet he was and how much he cared for everyone around him and god that man was so funny, you loved his weird science jokes and his magic tricks. How were you supposed to not fall in love with him? You asked yourself that question every time he brought you coffee in the morning or went on his rambles about some random thing.

After a particularly intense inquiry from a very drunk Garcia in one of the girls' nights she organized at her home, you told her your feelings for Reid and she made you swear you would act on it.

“Garcia, I'm not confessing. He's not into me like that, i’ll just ruin our friendship”

“Oh honey, he practically kisses the floor you walk in, he follows you around the office like a lost puppy and practically kills any officer that dares to be the tiniest bit mean to you. There’s no way he’s not into you, at least try pretty please” She says, doing puppy eyes at you. Garcia took her job as a cupid very seriously and was not going to let this be her first fail.

“Alright, i’ll try but if he ends up hating me you’ll have to bake me cookies everyday until i die” You say rolling your eyes and finishing your glass of wine.

“Ohhh i’ll be cooking cookies for you guys wedding!”

–

So, here you are holding his favorite order from the local coffee shop and gathering the courage to press the button to the elevator

“Hey are you fine?” A familiar voice calls you, when you turn around its spencer.. Great, guess you’ll have to do this right now

“Oh hi yeah, I was just um… meditating”

“Did you know meditanting has been proven to increase your memory and is also great for reducing anxiety. I really should start doing it, what method do you use?” Spencer says while pressing the button to the elevator

“Ummm breath in, breath out i think” You say, unsure how to respond

“That's actually one of the best ways as it oxygenates your brain and helps it work better, it can also help you feel more calm since deep breathing activates the parasympathetic nervous system that sends a signal to your brain to tell the anxious part that you're safe and don't need to use the fight, flight response” He says, doing the little smile and head nod thing he always does after info dumping.

You smile back at him, as you both enter the elevator and press the button to the BAU floor.

“I brought you something” You say, handing him the coffee shop bag

He opens it and smiles at you “I can’t believe you remembered my favorites, thank you so much” You love that smile so much, all you can think about is how perfect he is and how there’s no way you can continue on without dating this man.

“Actually, I need to tell you something spence… I was thinking, maybe we could go out together as like, a date or something” You say, already blushing from the embarrassment you felt and how scared you were that he did not reciprocate the feelings.

“Really? Of course i want, to be honest i’ve wanted to ask you to be honest but i thought you’d never see me like that”

“Are you kidding me spencer? I’ve had a crush on you since we first meet”

The elevator gets to the office, and you both walk in blushing and joking about how you two were so blind to each other's feelings. As you get in, garcia passes by you two stopping to stare

“There’s something happening here…” She says, pointing between you two and pressing her eyes together as if she’s profiling you two

“I asked him out”

“Oh my god finally, you see? I’m always right, I don’t even need to ask what he said, look at Reid, he’s glowing, ohh i’m so happy” She says, walking out to probably tell the news to everyone on the team.

[parfaitblogs]

persimmon ❀ s. reid x reader

in which you wake up to your first morning on your honeymoon. 

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: smut (18+ mdni) tags: oral (f receiving). praise. he loves you you love him!!! newlyweds. word count: 1.2k a/n: couldn't tell you where the fuck this came from tbh. very short + very simple little thing i wrote instead of doing assignments after seeing a tweet about persimmons :)

You were beautiful. Maddeningly. Iridescent, as sunlight reflects off your skin and golds the room in which you lay with him. Gentle breaths that lift and deflate your chest evenly, bringing you closer to him, ripping you away soon after. He ached to hold you closer. To the point of your chest never cutting contact with his own. He knew better; knew to let you sleep.

The things he feels for you seem too demanding for a human being. Too overwhelming. How can one man hold so much adoration for another person? His heart was always so full when he woke up like this; before you did.

Things were more beautiful today, though. The ring around your finger, for you had refused to take it off despite his efforts, sparkled amongst crinkled white sheets. Legs entangled with his own, skin resting against skin, warm enough to provide an enormous amount of comfort. 

Never one to curse unnecessarily, Spencer Reid was. Yet, all his thoughts were consumed with, fuck you were beautiful. 

It seemed too inconsequential of a word to describe you. Every word did. A thousand adjectives and he would still believe he's not loving you as much as you deserve. 

You stir, and his entire bloodstream burns. He couldn't count on his hands how many times he had watched you wake up in the morning, but this morning was so special, and before you had even fully fluttered your eyes open, he was kissing you. Gently, for he wanted to take his time with you. 

You're smiling. He can feel your lips stretch against his, and he's proud to have enough self restraint to pull away from you so he could see it. He's sure the sun could develop a rivalry with you when you were this happy. 

"Good morning," you murmur, a little breathless from the half asleep kiss you were still trying to recover from, "husband."

He relishes in the way the word leaves your lips, and it takes a considerable amount of strength to not kiss you once more. Though, he wants to. Desperately. 

Then again, he wishes to do a lot of things this morning. So many different activities he yearns for (many of them not very appropriate, if he's honest), and he is quite content to cancel the schedule you had developed for today to complete them. 

He knows better than to do that unprompted. So, he asks, "How much time in bed do we have?"

Perhaps it was the way he looks at you while he's above you, hair falling down and gently tickling your face from how close he was. Perhaps it was your own personal desires seeping into your strong willed mind. Whatever it was, you were probably on the same wavelength as him, and you were discarding whatever else you wanted to do that day. 

"As much as we want," you reply, and it's a shit-eating grin on his face that promises you a good morning. 

"Thank God."

Never one to be religious, you know he's wanton if he's thanking a figure he doesn't believe in. You bite down a remark about it. 

Amongst all the doctorates he had attached to his name, you were sure worshipping your body had to be one of them. For the way he kisses down your body is practised, and it is a trail of flames he leaves on your skin. Benign kisses on every patch of skin he can find, paying extra attention to the pulse point on your neck that drags whimpers from your lips. 

Fingers find your thighs to push them apart, hands sliding up and down the skin and encouraging goosebumps to lift. He is breathless as he laughs at you, but then he is pressing kisses into your hip bones, and you truly forget how to argue with him. 

"I love you," he says, lifting his gaze up to you, breath warm against your skin, all whilst his head lowers further down your body. He presses a kiss to each thigh, repeating the adoring phrase in between. 

Wasting no time to put his lips on you, he's teasing with his tongue licking a stripe up the centre of your folds, before he's attaching them to your clit. 

He probably mumbles something about how good you taste, as he usually does, but you're too overwhelmed already to actually register the words. For you had been inside the cabin David Rossi had gotten the two of you less than twelve hours, and he had drawn four orgasms from you already. Something about spending your honeymoon loving you in every way he can. 

You're writhing beneath him already, and he's sure if he focusses any more on that, he'd lose his mind. His tongue flicking over your clit elicits more moans from you, and the broken sound of your voice. 

"Spenc—er—oh," your head digs into the pillow beneath it, back arching. "Please."

Usually, he would force your hips back to the mattress, and he would concern himself with keeping you still. Then again, usually, you aren't this sensitive. He lets you lift yourself off the mattress, though he moves with you, and you're provided no respite from his mouth.

He's never once eaten you out with this much tranquility; he likes to devour you like you are his first meal in months. But today, he is taking his time, and he is dragging out every quiet moan and cry from your throat that he possibly can. 

Persimmons can sometimes be so incredibly tender they split themselves open. The osmotic pressure that is built up by the sugar tends to cause the skin to burst. When he touches you like this, you consider whether or not you are but a tender persimmon, splitting under the duress of how good he feels. 

"My beautiful girl," he breathes out against you, and God if you believe nothing else in this world, let it be how much this man loves you. 

His hand reaches up to find your left hand, interlacing your fingers with his own and bringing them both down to your stomach, where he finally pushes you back down onto the mattress. 

You are too tired to even warn him, but your moaning becomes incessant, and your fingers are digging into the knuckles of his hand within your own. You're sure you don't need to say anything.

He coaxes you through your orgasm, obscene praise leaving his lips every chance he gets, his eyes so fixated on your face you can feel it, even through your now closed eyelids. 

He's pulling away and kissing his way back up your body, each kiss more drawn out than the last, until he's got his lips back on your own, and he's swallowing the gentle moan that leaves your lips. 

"I love you," you finally murmur, and he pulls back to bury his face into the crook of your neck, kissing the skin there so delicately you wonder if you could fall apart all over again, for an entirely different reason. 

"I love you," he punctuates his words with his hand squeezing your own, which he still had interlaced with his. 

"Can I cut our bed time short for a shower?" you ask him, quietly. 

"Mm," he considers it, or pretends to, hair tickling your jawline. "No, I'm not done with you here yet."

"You're insatiable."

You squirm when he nips at your neck. "You married me."

He pulls back to look at you, eyes sparkling, and you breathe out a quiet huff of amused laughter. 

"Yeah, I did."

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated ♡

[rynbutt]

pierced. pt. 5 | spencer reid.

He was starting to fall for you. Hard. It made him wonder if you'd ever be safe being part of the dangerous life he led.

masterlist

cw: fem!reader, 18+ content (MDNI), smut (oral m!receiving, riding, unprotected sex - WRAP IT BEFORE YOU TAP IT!!!) fluff, angst, mentions of a body (general criminal minds behaviour)

a/n: ehhehehehe

The soft rustle of sheets stirred his sleep.

Spencer kept his eyes shut as he was gently coaxed from sleep, his muscles more sore than he remembers them being last night. He let out a tired sigh, a yawn pulling from his mouth as he blinked his eyes open slowly, his eyes starting to adjust to the warm morning sunlight that pooled through the curtains. Spencer’s brain suddenly caught up, realising that this was not his room and these definitely weren’t his  sheets. 

A soft sigh caught his attention and Spencer turned his head to see your bare back, sheets pooled at your waist. Spencer’s breath caught in his throat as he stared at your smooth skin gently bathed in sunlight. It took a moment for the memories of last night to finally be released from the grips of sleep, but he remembered. Remembered the softness of your skin under his fingertips, the gentle kisses you planted along his neck and shoulder, the feeling of you wrapped around him; all of it. 

“Can I?” Your eyes were gentle as you glanced up at Spencer, your fingers resting on the buckle of his belt, waiting for his permission. Spencer’s head was spinning seeing you on your knees in front of him as he sat on your couch with you between his legs. You gently squeezed his knee, getting his attention. “Spence?”

Spencer’s face went hot, running his hands down and face then pushing them through his hair. The memories of your warm lips pressing kisses all over him sent him reeling. Spencer wasn’t exactly experienced when it came to sex and he was sure that with anyone else he would have freaked out and panicked. But with you, it felt warm and intimate, almost natural to him.

The moment you took the head of his cock in your mouth, Spencer’s mind went white, unable to form a single cohesive thought at the feeling of your warm mouth wrapped around him. You reached up to intertwine your fingers with his, prompting him to use his other hand to guide you exactly where he wanted. You beamed at his nervousness, quickly pulling off of him with a quiet pop to lean up on your knees to kiss his lips softly, calming him down, “you’re doing so good, Spence.”

Spencer reached his hand out toward you, gently playing with the ends of your hair. You stirred at the feeling, eyes blinking open as you felt Spencer’s curious fingertips ghost over the skin of your back. You smiled softly, “G’morning, Spencer,” you greeted softly, your voice laced with sleep. Spencer’s hand suddenly retracted and you rolled over onto your back, glancing at Spencer’s sleepy face as he stared at you with intense affection.

“Hi,” he whispered.

“Hi,” you whispered back, reaching your hand out to cup his face.

Spencer was always confident in his ability to profile, to solve a case and help his team, but this was uncharted territory for him. The way you bobbed your head slowly, tucking your hair behind your ear as your other hand wrapped around the base of his cock, gently squeezing him. He had never felt anything that was somehow both sinful yet intimate and affectionate. He gently held your hair back for you and it made you want to grin and squeal with delight at how adorable he was. 

The more involuntary noises he made, the faster you bobbed your head and gently sucked at the tip. Spencer grabbed your hand, squeezing softly as you quickened your pace, his groans like music to your ears, “I…I think I’m gonna-”

Spencer’s hand came to gently hold your wrist as your thumb stroked his cheek, “feeling okay, Spence?” you asked, wanting to make sure you didn’t turn his entire brain to mush last night.

“Yeah,” he replied, “I feel great,” he looked like he was trying to suppress a wide smile, the softness of your shared intimacy making his chest bloom with warmth. 

“That’s good,” you chuckled, moving some of his messy hair out of his face. “Do you have to work today?”

Spencer frowned, “yeah, I do. I would have liked to stay here with you though. Maybe get some lunch,” he said through a sigh.

“We have all the time in the world for that, Spence.”

As Spencer came down from the intense high of his orgasm, he suddenly became mortified, realising he finished inside your mouth without much of a warning, which he came to understand a warning was pretty vital in intimate situations.

“Shit, Y/N, I’m so sorry-” 

You laughed softly, wiping the collected drool off the corner of your mouth, “don’t be sorry, Spencer. I wanted to make you feel good… Did you? …Feel good?”

“I feel like that goes without saying,” he said with a tinge of sass. 

Spencer pulled his boxers and pants back up, scurrying around the room looking for his shirt and other sock. You caught his attention when you sat up in your bed, stretching your arms over your head, your shoulder and neck cracking quietly. Spencer’s eyes glanced down your body, over the swell of your breasts and the dip of your waist. He really wishes he didn’t have to work today.

“Like what you see, pretty boy?” You teased, leaning against the headboard.

“Yes,” he replied like it was obvious.

You chuckled at his response, finally urging yourself to get out of bed. He watched your naked body saunter over to him, your hands reaching up to hook around his neck. Spencer’s hands instinctively held your waist, eyes dipping between the two of you to take in the perfect dips and swells of your body. He leaned down to plant a kiss to your lips, hands cupping your warm cheeks.

He pulled away, brows knitted together as thoughts swirled around.

“What’s going on in there?” You asked softly, your fingertips ghosting over his temple.

He sighed, “I don’t usually… do this kind of stuff.”

“What’s got you nervous?” You questioned, the gentleness of your eyes making him feel safe.

“I just, don’t want to lose… this,” Spencer whispered. “And I don’t want to just take you on one date, or think that I just want to have sex with you or-”

You kissed him gently, letting him sigh against you, “I don’t think any of that, Spence,” you reassured him, watching as he relaxed slightly under your soft gaze.

“...Do you want to come to Rossi’s dinner party with me next Friday?” Spencer suddenly asked. “As my date,” he clarified.

You grinned, “I’d love to.”

Spencer knew this was going to stay in his mind forever. He watched as your breasts bounced in front of him, one of his hands coming up to rub at your pierced nipple while the other wrapped around your waist, holding you steady as you bounced on his cock. You let out soft moans as Spencer’s hips met yours, your hands wrapped around his shoulders, nails scraping against his skin. 

“You feel- so good,” he whined out, his breath hot against the column of your throat. You moaned softly, feeling the warmth bloom in your belly. You grabbed Spencer’s hand that was pinching at your nipple and trailed it down between your bodies, pressing his thumb to your neglected clit.

Spencer was a fast learner, you showed him what you wanted and he complied, rubbing small circles on the swollen bud. You let out a loud whine at the feeling, tipping your head back as Spencer kissed your shoulder, gently biting the skin between your neck and shoulder. 

“Don’t stop,” you moaned quietly, your slick forming a white ring around the base of his cock. Spencer’s head was spinning as he tried to hold on for you, making you feel as good as you made him feel when you were on your knees in front of him. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you whined, bouncing faster and faster on his lap as you tipped over the edge, prompting Spencer to rub tighter circles on your sensitive clit.

“I’m gonna- again-” Spencer groaned against your shoulder, his arm around your waist tightening until you were pressed tight against his chest. You held his head and kissed him as he finished inside you, his hands gripping your hips as his own hips stuttered against you. 

Spencer was breathless as he panted against you, sweat forming a light sheen over his skin. Your thumb traced softly beneath his lashes, “you’re so pretty.”

Spencer walked into the bullpen with a slight airiness to him that did not go unnoticed. Spencer made himself a cup of coffee at the kitchenette, his second cup of the day after sharing one with you before he left. Morgan glanced at him sideways as he made his own coffee, noticing the slight confidence that Spencer never usually exuded.

“Fun night, pretty boy?” Morgan asked, stirring his coffee. 

“Was pretty normal,” Spencer lied, trying to remain inconspicuous, which proved to be rather difficult when mostly everyone he knew and worked with were profilers.

“Normal, hm? You just seem… very relaxed,” Morgan replied.

“Am I not always relaxed?” Spencer questioned, glancing at Morgan.

“The Reid I know is usually wound pretty tight,” Emily interjected, placing her empty mug in the sink. Spencer dropped his spoon on the counter.

“Am I being interrogated?” Spencer asked, eyes narrowing at the two of them.

Morgan and Emily pursed their lips, shaking their heads. Emily raised her hands in surrender, returning to her desk. 

Morgan took a sip from his coffee, “nice hickey.”

“Shit,” Spencer slapped a hand over his neck, pulling on the collar of his shirt to try and cover the evidence of his late night escapade. 

Morgan chuckled as he sipped his coffee, walking back toward the meeting room and finally releasing Spencer of his questioning, “Come on, lover boy. We got another case.”

Cases barely bothered Spencer so deeply. He was able to compartmentalise pretty well, treat every case as a case and not get emotionally involved. Sure, there were a handful of times when he got over-involved in some things, but he was rarely ever bothered. 

When he and Emily were assigned to visit the dump site of a body and begin a profile, he was fine until he saw the body. She was a young woman, mutilated and dumped by a river. The problem was, she looked like you. 

Spencer felt his heart thumping in his chest, he knew it wasn’t you, but she shared a lot of her features with you. And that deeply bothered him. Emily noticed Spencer’s behaviour the moment he hesitated getting any closer to the body. Spencer cared about you, he liked you a lot and had a deep desire to protect you, especially after the intimacy you shared the night before.

“You okay, Reid?” Emily asked from where she was crouched down by the woman’s body.

Spencer sighed quietly, “yeah. Yeah I’m fine.”

“Take a minute, I can handle this,” she replied. 

Spencer glanced at her, “No, I’m okay. She just-”

“-looks like Y/N?”

“Yeah.”

Emily sighed sympathetically, “go see her when we fly home. It’ll make you feel better.”

Spencer nodded, his lips forming a tight line. The other victims in the case didn’t look like you, just that one girl, he was able to bury the feeling for the rest of the case but he was antsy to get back to Virginia so he could see you.

You sat on your couch eating ramen you bought from a place you discovered recently, eyes glued to the TV as you watched a pretty terrible soap opera that you dare not turn off. You were far too invested in the ridiculousness of it to turn it off.

There was a sudden knock on your door. You turned the volume of the TV down, putting your ramen on the table in front of you. You walked over to your door, peering through the peephole. You were pleasantly surprised to see Spencer.

You opened the door, “Spence? I didn’t think you were back until-”

He suddenly crashed into you, your sentence falling flat as he wrapped his arms around you, pressing his cheek against your hair. You hugged him back, hands gripping his shirt and holding him close. His sudden appearance made you nervous, wondering what prompted it.

“What’s going on, Spencer?” You asked quietly, pulling away from him to cup his cheek.

“I just needed to see you,” he replied, voice barely above a whisper. You frowned sympathetically, deducing it was probably his most recent case.

“You want to talk about it?” Your voice was gentle.

“Not right now,” Spencer said, “...Can we just stay like this?”

You nodded, “of course we can.”

Spencer spent the night holding you close, revelling in the feeling of your heart beat and the sound of your quiet breathing. He had just found someone who listened to him intently, liked the things he liked and liked him. He knew the fear was somewhat irrational, but the idea of losing you upset him, made him think irrationally, which was something that never happened to him. 

You stroked your hand through his hair, your warm fingertips soothing his nervousness and helping him calm down. He felt safe in your arms and it made him wonder if he deserved your kindness and your gentleness. 

Was it right for him to drag you into his dangerous life?

a/n: watch this become my whole personality

taglist: @crazycat-ladys-blog @cillsnostalgia @secretly-tumb1r @33-81 @elissanatok @outrunangelss @cultish-corner @666-gothic-bat-666 @evvy96 @littlemarvelstan8 @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @meg-black @dreamsarebig @anuncalledbridge @fioletowelowe @ladylincoln @spencerreidsgf420 @bollzinurmouth @scarlettssub @ipseitydelrey @donttrustlove @mcntsee @ruziazyn

[reiderwriter]

Isn't She Pretty, Daddy?

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Teacher f!Reader

Summary: You're a little bit worried about one of your brightest students recently, so you call her Dad to come in for a meeting. Her absolutely adorable - and single - Dad.

Warnings: the birds and the bees as explained by a kindergardener. Some angst about being a single parent.

A/N: Here's another entry for @imagining-in-the-margins Kid Fic Challenge! Dad Spencer has my heart, and I've been in a really fluff forward mood this weekend, evidently! I think I have one more Kid Fic left to go before the end of the challenge, but we'll see what the will of the fanfiction gods is...

Masterlist

If you were to be asked what the hardest part of being a teacher was, you would, without question or even a second to think, have an answer. Parents. The worst part of teaching is talking to parents. 

Little kids were easy to talk to. They asked questions if they didn't understand things clearly, and they didn't typically say things they didn't mean. Adults were the opposite, and it just so happened that all of your kids' parents were adults. 

Including your most recent problem  child. 

You were used to the kids in your class having some behavior issues - for one, they were kids, it was to be expected that their little bodies couldn't quite handle all of the emotions they were feeling at once. But you were doubly struck by your school area being close to Quantico, meaning half the kids in your care had families with law enforcement backgrounds. 

Absent parents plus growing bodies plus normal kid stress equalled attachment issues, and your problem child Harper Reid was one of your more worrying cases. 

You really hoped everything was okay in the Reid household, so you'd called the little girls parents. She was lovely - honest to god - one of the sweetest little kids you'd ever met. 

Every day she came to school with some older kids and their mom, carpooling on the way in, so you had yet to meet her parents, but you thought that anyone who could produce something that sweet and cute and brilliant couldn't possibly be a bad person. 

You didn't know what to expect, so when her little pigtails peaked around the corner and she came running in, you were momentarily filled with anxiety. 

“MOMMY!” The little girl yelled, launching herself into your arms as soon as she spotted you behind your desk. 

“Hi, Harper! Hi, you must be, Mr. Reid-”

“Doctor, actually, um, but that doesn't really matter. I'm so sorry about this, Harper doesn't usually tackle people.” 

The 3ft tall ball of energy had managed to crawl into your lap and wrap her arms around your neck, so you had to pick her up when you stood to greet her dad. 

“Will your wife be joining us for the meeting today?” You asked, already used to Harper's hugs and general closeness. 

“Oh, no. No, she's not coming. She, uh, doesn't exist. Single father.” 

“Oh my god, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to assume, it's just not on my files-” 

“It's okay, it's a …bit complicated.” 

You took your seat at the desk and gestured to the man to do the same. Finally, looking at him for the first time now that some of your anxiety had died down, you couldn't help but think that Doctor Reid was incredibly attractive. It wasn't one part of his face that stuck out to you as being particularly pretty, just the entire ensemble of it together that took your breath away. Either that of Harper was gripping you so tight she was restricting your ability to breathe, and considering a five year old is not a boa constrictor, this was all dad's fault. 

“So, you said on the phone Harper's been having some problems at school?” 

You snapped your attention back to the issue at hand, searching for the relevant files and pictures you wanted to show the man. Harper turned herself around in your lap and looped her arms around your arm, pulling it in close to use as a pillow. 

“Isn't Miss Y/N so pretty, Daddy?” You froze and flushed in an instant, suddenly so aware of the man's eyes on you. You weren't sure if you were thankful or even more embarrassed that Harper's dad seemed to be even more flushed than you. 

“Daddy? Isn't she pretty?” Harper insisted, and you realized that you both weren't going to get out of this without him answering. 

“Yes, angel. Miss Y/N is very pretty.” The little girl smiled in triumph and nuzzled into your arm even more, happily curled up into your lap like a cat. 

“Hey, Harper. We got a new puzzle delivered yesterday. It's got My Melody and Cinnamaroll on it. They're your favorites, right?” 

The little girl nodded in glee, eyes shining as she hung on your every word. 

“How about you go over to the play area and get it started, and then me and your daddy will come over and help you finish it?” 

In a flash, she'd hopped up out of your lap and wriggled away, shouting a quick “You promised, right?” behind her as she went. 

“I'm so sorry about that, I don't know what's gotten into her, she's usually very shy and-”

“Doctor Reid, it's fine. That's just why I called you in today. Teachers and parents are a team, right, we work together to make sure the kids grow up well, you don't need to apologize to me for that.” 

The man seemed to take a deep breath and nod, to regain his wits about him for a second. 

“Is she… this attached in her regular classes?” 

“Well honestly, she was a bit like that at the beginning of the semester, but she grew out of it after a while. In the last week or so, she fell back into it, and now she's calling me ‘Mommy,’ too. I was wondering if anything happened recently at home that could've led her in this direction, or…”

The man looked a little bashful, but there was a twinge of sadness in his expression that you recognised all too well. 

“Harper, uh, doesn't have a Mom. I adopted her, and it's a long story, but... She's been asking me to get her one recently, because she doesn't really understand all that well? I'm sorry, I didn't know she'd do something like this. I should've done a better job at home-” 

“Doctor Reid, raising a child is hard. It's so hard that humans usually do it in communities, or at least in couples. You're doing it alone, and Harper is already one of the smartest and most empathetic little girls I know. You're doing your job as Dad just fine.” 

The man smiled at you and looked down, quickly wiping away a tear as you gave him a moment of privacy. 

“So. If nothing at home set Harper off, we should probably go and ask her why she's calling me mommy, right?” 

You stood, and he stood with you, leaving his satchel next to his chair and unbuttoning his jacket. 

“Great. Sure, let's go see.”

Walking to the back of the room, you both smiled quietly, looking at the small girl. The 100 piece puzzle you'd guided her to was neatly arranged on the desk, pieces split into edges and centre pieces as she slowly looked at each one with a quietly focused face. Each time she found the piece she was looking for, her smile was bright as she connected it to the small part she was working on. 

“Mommy! Daddy! I can't find the melody's face, can you help me?” 

“Sure, Harper, we'll help you.” You moved to sit beside her at the tiny desks, giggling when the older Reid on Harper's other side struggled to fit himself in the toddler sized chairs. 

Harper assigned you roles, and you all started quietly doing your jobs, waiting for Harper to focus again so you could ask her questions without agitating her. 

“Harper, can you tell your Daddy why you call me Mommy?” 

“Sure! You're Mommy because I want you to marry with Daddy.” 

If you weren't already still flushed from her earlier comments, you certainly were lightheaded with embarrassment now. 

“Harper, that's not how it works-” 

“Yes, it is, Daddy! Henry said so. He said his mommy and daddy were sad one day, but then they were together again and they had a big party called a wedding and now they're happy, and that's why we have Michael.” You didn't quite follow from all the names and the story events, but it was evident that Reid did, so you waited quietly for his explanation. 

“My friend. Her son was at her wedding a few years back. They have another son who is a couple years older than Harper, they come to school together?” 

Your mouth made a small ‘o’ as you slowly filled in the blanks. 

“Harper, you want daddy to have a wedding so he isn't sad anymore?” 

The little girl gave a big nod and a smile, like she was so happy that she was finally being understood. 

“Miss Y/N should marry daddy because he thinks she's pretty. Henry said that was important for a wedding, your mommy has to look beautiful.” You made eye contact with Doctor Reid awkwardly as she spoke, both of you looking away for fear of seeing the embarrassment on each others faces. 

“And Miss Y/N wants a baby. So I will be Miss Y/N's baby, so everyone can be happy!” Harper's kid logic was a little hard to find fault with, but you still had to push back a little. 

“Harper, why do you think I want a baby?” 

“Angie asked you, and you said," the girl pouted, almost frustrated woth habing to answer all these silly questions.

"She asked you why you don't have a baby, and you said that you can only have a baby if you're married and that you wanted to have a baby when you were married. So marry my dad, and I'll be your baby!” 

Harper's smile was so happy and content that you really didn't want to spoil her dream just yet. You continued putting the puzzle together for a few minutes in silence, the full picture nearly being complete now. Harper seemed to fidget a little in her seat next to you, pushing closer and closer to you before tugging on your sleeve. 

You leaned down and she whispered in your ear - though you didn't doubt that her dad heard every word. 

“If you really want, I'm sure we can get another baby like Henry got Michael. I'll ask my dad, but I think it's allowed.” 

The poor man on the other side of the desk had to cover his face with his hands to stop the blush from showing, devolving to just straight up resting his head on the desk when his daughter kept going. 

“A boy is okay, but my dad doesn't really know about boy stuff. Uncle Derek says that my daddy is just a pretty boy with a book brain. We should get another girl, so daddy can be not worry.” 

The more you listened to Harper's adorable family plan, the more you just wanted to squeeze her tight and say yes and give her everything she wanted. 

“Miss Y/N, once again, I'm so sorry for everything, I'll talk with Harper at home about this.” 

“It's okay, I actually find it all very sweet,” you laughed a little and smiled back at him. 

“No, I'm sure your boyfriend would be so uncomfortable if he knew that she was trying to marry you off-” 

“Doctor Reid, are you trying to ask me if I'm single?” 

The small grin that quirked his lips up was nothing if not unfair. He really was a very pretty boy. 

“It was that obvious?” 

“Yep.” You made sure the ‘p’ popped a lot as you both shared a small laugh. Harper looked up between you and smiled, too. 

“So, can you get married now? Henry said you can do it really quickly, like in Grandpa Rossi's garden, and then you can go and do the secret part at home while Auntie Penny looks after me.” 

“Secret part?” 

“To make the other baby, silly!” 

[fliesforeyes]

Can I request something where spencer accidentally makes the reader squirt once then makes it his mission to get them to squirt more?

babe i am so sorry for how this has taken me to get to, writers block is a bitch. but here you go, i hope you enjoy!!

spencer reid always tried to time it so you both came together. he loved the intimacy of it, knowing how good it feels for both you at the same time, but sometimes it just doesn't work out.

he didn't know what was up with you that day, you were so much more sensitive than usual. spencer had already made you cum once with his tongue on your clit, and a second time while he fucked you. you were laying on your back, legs wrapped around his slender hips as he thrust in and out of you, his head on your shoulder.

you knew he was close with the noises he made, the silent gasps and the whines he tried to hide, but you just couldn't hold on any longer. you came around his cock, squeezing him tight as his thumb continued rubbing tight circles on your clit. your head pushed back against the pillow, legs shaking as spencer kept up his feverish pace, chasing his own high and relishing in how good you felt.

neither of you even knew you squirted at first, not until spencer came and ceased his movements, bringing his hand down to rub the skin of your stomach. not until he slowly pulled out with a wince from the both of you. it was then when he noticed the mess covering his pelvis, the way the sheets below your perfect cunt were wet.

ever since then he wanted to see it happen, wanted to know he made you squirt. spencer would make sure to have you cum at least twice before he was close to finishing, would continue to rub your clit as you clawed at his back and whined that you couldn't take it anymore, whispering sweetly that he knew you could.

he'd eat you out for hours. not that he didn't before, but now he gave you less time to relax from the overstimulation before he pushed another orgasm out of you. he'd pull away and settle back as his fingers fucked in and out of your sopping pussy, watch as your eyebrows furrowed and you soaked the bed.

he didn't make you squirt every time the two of you had sex, he didn't want to push you too much, but it was a treat for him whenever you both had some extra time together.

[avis-writeshq]

pairing: early seasons!spencer reid x sunshine!fem!reader genre: fluff, roommate au, childhood friends warnings: general criminal minds violence, not beta-read oops a/n: I renounce the MoReid shippers; they’re SIBLINGS !!!! also, apologies for lack of posts !! have been very busy with uni :( wc: 1.06k part 1 | part 2

Spencer was shot. It all happened so quickly– the sound of the gun firing, the grunt that he let out and the apprehension of the UnSub. Too quickly, but such is the fickleness of life. This was one of the rare occasions where the ballistic vest did not do its job, the bullet jamming into his side. Hotch was on the UnSub in seconds, the cuffs on his wrists before anyone could blink. 

“Shit, Reid,” Derek gasps out, watching the way blood seeps through his once pristine white shirt, and he presses his hand against the wound. “Shit, Hotch! Hotch! We need a medic!”

*** 

“It’s going to be okay,” Aaron assures as best he can. His face is grim and Derek is shaking his head in frustration, hands trembling and cold from washing his hands over and over again. “It’s not your fault.”

“We missed him,” Gideon mutters, “he was right there and we missed him.”

“And Spencer got hurt because of it.” Elle’s gaze is set on the hospital’s sign in counter. 

Aaron understands their guilt. They caught the UnSub in the end, so nothing was ever in vain, but it doesn’t change the fact that they didn’t anticipate that he was at the end of the hallway waiting for the perfect moment to strike– and Spencer paid the price of their mistakes. The bullet hit him in the side where the vest didn’t cover, the damage reaching his liver and kidneys. Aaron doesn’t think he’s ever seen that much blood before. 

“Excuse me–” a voice loud enough to cut through their brooding chimes from the reception desk. “Hi. Hello, I’m here for, um, Doctor Spencer Reid?”

The clerk glances at her for a brief moment before turning back to his computers. “We don’t have a Doctor by that name on staff.”

“Um, no–” a nervous laugh splits the air. “No, he’s– he’s not a doctor here. He’s a patient? I got a call.”

He looks at her up and down before raising an eyebrow, mumbling something. “Is that you?”

“Yes. Yes, that’s me, is he okay? I came as soon as I could.”

“He’s in surgery. He’ll be out in a few. Take a seat over there–” He gestures over to where Aaron and the others are sitting– “and the doctor will call you over.”

“Right. Right, okay, thank you.” 

Elle doesn’t try hiding her confusion, looking up at you from her seat with raised brows. “You’re here for Reid?”

You jolt in surprise, the heavy grip you have on your bag loosening in an attempt to calm down. “Hi? Um, yeah. He’s– well, we’re on each other’s emergency contact list.”

“It’s good to see you again,” Aaron says with a tight grimace. “I wish it were under better circumstances.”

Derek’s jaw unhinges. “You knew?”

“Emergency contact list.” Aaron offers you a glance. “Are you okay?”

“I just–” your voice wobbles, a choked whimper leaving your lips. “I just want him to be okay.”

The team shares your sentiments. It’s not often when there’s an injury as serious as this on the field, but the risk is there. The room is tense with worry, the sound of doctors and nurses rushing around through the halls does nothing to ease their anxieties. You’re already fearing the worst. 

What feels like hours is only minutes as a nurse arrives in front of your little group. 

“Doctor Spencer Reid?” She confirms, looking sympathetic as ever. “The surgery was a success. The bullet grazed against his liver so he does need to stay for a couple of days for monitoring, but he should make a full recovery.”

“Is he allowed guests?” You blurt out hurriedly, the receipt in your hands crumbled in torn from incessant worrying. 

“He’s should be waking up now, but you’re welcome to see him. I’ll take you there.” The nurse offers a gentle smile. “Girlfriend?”

Heat roars against your cheeks and you shake your head adamantly. “No, no, he’s– we’re not– he’s my roommate.”

The nurse hums, a knowing smile on her face. “I see.”

After a few quick goodbyes towards Aaron and the rest of the team, you hurry after the nurse whilst clutching your bag of goods. She opens the door wide, letting you inside before closing it behind you while you pull up a chair. 

“I am– I am so mad at you, Spencer Walter Reid,” you whisper, gaze fixed on his resting face and the hair that mats his forehead. You brush a few strands away from his eyes, your lips trembling briefly. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

“So you’re not that mad?” Spencer croaks out, his voice dry and his head pounding as he manages to lift his eyes towards you.

“Spencer.” Your arms are around his neck in an instant, careful as not to disrupt the wires and tubes that surround him. “I’m going to kill you.”

 “That’s counter intuitive.” He laughs quietly, wincing a little at the suddenness before allowing his free arm to wrap loosely around your waist. He finds it uneasy, the way your lips fall into a wobbly frown and how your eyes look red and puffy from crying. He’s only ever seen you look like this once before but that’s nothing compared to this. This time you look like that because of him– a silly little accident has lead to your pretty smile vanishing off your pretty face.

“You suck. I’m telling your mother.” He knows you won’t and he’s grateful that you’ve found it in yourself to make a joke. When you pull away, he immediately misses your warmth, watching as you rummage through your bag before handing him a sealed cup of red jell-o. “It was the last one they had.”

“You’re an angel, really, but I don’t think I’m allowed to eat for a couple hours,” he murmurs, his fingers grasping gingerly at the cup.

With a wordless nod in acknowledgement, you press a thick leather bound book into his hands, your eyes meeting his gaze. “Your favourite.”

He breathes out his thanks, glancing up at you through the dim lights of the hospital room. “Are you going to stay?”

“As long as you want, Walter.” 

*** 

From the other side of the door, Derek glances through the window at you and Spencer before looking back at Hotch. “They’re roommates?”

“Apparently.”

“No, but– they’re just roommates?”

“Unfortunately.”

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part 1 | part 2 | you are on part 3!