#autistic spencer

[l4ndojpg]

Whumptober 2023, Day 24: Goodbye note

fandom: criminal minds | characters: spencer reid, aaron hotchner | ship: none | trigger warnings: none | content: dad!hotch, spencer & hotch friendship, gideon left and spencer isn't dealing well, anxiety, autistic spencer | word count: 951.

“Reid.” 

Spencer looks up from his book at his boss’ voice. Hotch is standing beside Spencer’s desk, looking down at him curiously. “It’s six in the morning, what are you doing here? We don’t have a case.” 

“Sorry,” Spencer says hurriedly, closing his book and immediately bringing his fingers together to intertwine them nervously. “I woke up early and couldn’t get back to sleep. I, uh, I needed to get out of the house.” 

Hotch watches his youngest agent carefully, quick to notice how much tension Spencer is holding in his shoulders and the anxiety that’s coming off of him in waves. He’s been like this - jumpy, overcompensating - since - well. Since Gideon left. Since Gideon left his note to Spencer. Hotch understands. He knows that Spencer and Jason’s relationship had been unique, that Gideon had been the first person to take a chance on Spencer and make him feel like he’s worth more than just his knowledge. Hotch also understands that Gideon had a way of thinking himself into holes he couldn’t pull himself back out of - it was only a matter of time before he left the BAU for good. Unfortunately, that meant leaving Spencer behind too, and though Hotch understood Gideon had good intentions, he can’t help but feel increasingly angry at the older man for leaving Spencer with so little - with only a goodbye note - the way he knows Spencer’s father left too. Hotch has felt a fiery protectiveness over his youngest agent since his first day at the BAU, and it’s only increased since Hankel, and even more so since Gideon left. It’s been almost a month, and Spencer’s anxious behavior seems to only be getting worse. 

“It’s alright,” Hotch says quickly, “there’s no need to apologize. Do you want a cup of coffee?” 

“Sure,” Spencer nods, looking down at his fingers as he taps them together silently, “that’d be great.” 

Hotch makes his way through the empty bullpen to the coffee machine, and prepares two mugs, one in the cup he knows Spencer likes best. He brings the streaming mugs back over to Spencer’s desk, and draws Morgan’s chair over to the desk to sit down with the other agent. 

“Thanks,” Spencer says gratefully, taking the cup and blowing on it slightly to cool it down. He takes a sip and smiles. “You make it just how I like it.” 

“I know my agents,” Hotch says. “I know how they like their coffee, when they need time off, what they’re best at…” he trails off and puts down his cup, watching Spencer carefully. “I know when they’re struggling.” 

The tension that had dissipated slightly when Hotch had handed him his coffee comes back to Spencer’s shoulders instantly. He freezes where he’s about to take another sip, and his eyes travel away from Hotch. He puts his cup down carefully and folds his arms tightly around him. 

“I’m fine,” he says automatically, and Hotch sighs, placing his cup down too. 

“You’re functioning,” Hotch says gently, watching as Spencer fights against himself not to tug on his hair or dig his nails into his arms, “that doesn’t mean you’re fine. I know what Gideon meant to you, and to leave the way he did… I know that, and all this change, can’t be easy on you.” 

“I…” Spencer grimaces, avoiding looking at Hotch, “I’m okay, really.” 

Hotch sighs - quietly, so that Spencer doesn’t take it the wrong way and think he’s exasperated with him. “I appreciate that you may believe that,” he says, “but it doesn’t take a profiler to see how anxious you are, and how much you miss him.” 

“I don’t miss him,” Spencer says bluntly, giving in and digging his nails into his arms, and for a person that is so kind and compassionate most of the time, Hotch is surprised by the bitterness in Spencer’s words. 

“No?” 

“He left me,” Spencer whispers, staring down at his lap, words tinged with anger, “a note. I don’t miss him. I hate him. I hate him,” he says the words with force, but his voice cracks. 

“Spencer,” Hotch says softly, as the younger agent swallows back his tears. “You are allowed to hate him and miss him. I imagine all of the emotions you are feeling are incredibly overwhelming right now. Just know that whatever they are, it’s okay. You’re allowed to feel them.” 

These words are clearly exactly what Spencer needs to hear, because he looks up at Hotch finally, tears threatening to stream down his cheeks at any moment. 

“Really?” he whispers, and he sounds so young. He is so young. Hotch presses his lips together in frustration, cursing the world for being so cruel to such a kind person from such a young age. 

“Really,” Hotch says, seriously. “I don’t know what you were told when you were younger, or what conclusions that big brain of yours has come to on its own, but your feelings are perfectly valid, Reid.” 

Spencer sniffs and wipes his eyes, nodding, and after a moment, he finally speaks, making eye contact with Hotch for the first time since the beginning of the conversation. “You know, my brain is no bigger than the average human’s. Did you know, people with a higher IQ often have fewer connections between neurons in the cerebral cortex, though?” 

Hotch smiles. “No, I didn’t know that. That’s amazing.” 

“I know!” Spencer says eagerly, and Hotch is pleased to see him drop his hands from his arms and pick up his mug, gesturing with the other. That’s the Spencer he knows. “And a few small functional brain-scanning studies suggest that people who are of higher IQ have lower cerebral metabolic rates during mentally active conditions…”

[venusbyline]

GUYS YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND!!! I NEED TO RIDE THIS MAN IMMEDIATELY

[bobadiin]

last day of autism awareness month please be aware of him

[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!

Taglist!: fill out this form if you want to be tagged when I post fics

@daryls-crossbow16 @roboticsuccubus83 @nemobee777 @dorcas4meadowes @spenciesslut @Idfk17 @pleasantwitchgarden @angeliccss @novaana @moonysreid @cynbx @dead-universe @starlighta

[spidersdad]

Kidnapper: we have your son.

Hotch: but my son is with me right now.

Kidnapper: ..shit. then who is this? he asked to pour him 250 ml of chocolate milk because I quote “statistically-

Hotch: fuck they have Reid. BABY, HOLD ON I’M COMING!

[godsfavdarling]

And they tried to convince us he isn't hot while he can't help but look like that

[theunholyvirginemilyprentiss]

Emily Prentiss being straight is about as believable as Spencer Reid being neurotypical.

[autistic-crypt1d]

[pineapple-psychic]

imagine some guy calls in a bunch of tips and it seems really suspicious so you take him in for questioning and then after literally telling you how he figures out all your cases before you he just straight up tells you hes a psychic. but actually he and his friend are neurodivergent as hell and have really weird special interests. thats psych. what do you mean of course we watched the same show.

[pinkglittergelpenink]

the team whenever Spencer talks:

[spencitiveartist]

me

[bluecitylight]

Silly & happy Spencer Reid

[venusbyline]

my type: pretty boys who are professors, FBI special agents, ex-con, probably autistic and have real puppy eyes

[bobadiin]

thinking so hard about autistic spencer reid <3

[0o-junebug-o0]

Put to Use

summary: Spencer has been bothering you all day while you try to get work done, you decide to put his mouth to better use.

genre: fluff and smut

cw: 18+ mdni! sub!spencer, softdom!reader, dirty talking, praise, use of good boy, begging, oral sex (r receiving (kinda)), strap-ons, strap-on sucking, hair pulling, gn!reader (reader has a vagina but nothing else is specified (the only word used to describe reader's genitalia is clit)), masturbation, no use of y/n, whiny/bratty spencer, autistic!spencer (because every spencer is autistic!spencer), aftercare

wordcount: 2.1k

Spencer has been whining all day. He’s been pacing around the apartment, practically begging you to put aside your work and complaining about how bored and lonely he is. Both of which you know for a fact is not true. If Spencer was bored he would grab one of the many books littering your shared apartment and read, and if he was actually lonely he would have a proper conversation about it rather than whining. He’s not bored or lonely, he’s just horny.

If you weren’t so busy you’d help him out, but you have a deadline coming up and you’ve been stuck on this part of your code for over two hours and it’s starting to piss you off.

Spencer sighs loudly as he passes by your desk. You briefly close your eyes and take a deep breath to tune him out and continue working. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Spencer watching you and when you don’t push everything aside to attend to him he whines your name. 

“Spencer,” you reply in a matching whine. He pouts.

“I’m bored.”

“Then read,” you say, still not taking your eyes off of your computer. 

“But I don’t want to read,” he whines. 

“Since when do you not want to read?”

“I just don’t,” he grumbles.

He flops onto the couch with a huff, his legs draped over the side. If you weren’t so worried about spurring him on, you’d laugh. 

A few minutes pass before he calls your name again.

You roll your eyes, starting to get a bit annoyed. “What, Spencer?”

“I’m still bored.”

Jesus Christ. You’ve never seen him like this. You’ve seen him desperate for you before but he’s never been such a brat about it. “Spencer, you know I have to work.”

“I know, but I’m lonely,” he whines.

“I’m right here.”

“That’s too far,” he groans.

“I’m really busy, Spencer. You’re just going to have to be patient.”

He mumbles something to himself but goes quiet and occupies himself by swinging his legs. It would be adorable if he wasn’t being such a pain in the ass.

You rub your eyes and lean closer to your computer as if that will tell you how to fix the error that just appeared in your code. You change the dimensions of an array and try running it again, when the code still fails, frustration builds in your chest and you have to fight the urge to slam your computer shut.

You mentally run through all of your most common mistakes and their solutions but not one of them gets rid of the error. You’re about to plot the data to see if there’s an issue in the reading of the file when Spencer calls your name again.

You close your laptop with a snap and Spencer’s head pokes over the back of the couch. You stand, pushing your chair away from your desk hard enough that it almost topples over. 

You glare at him. “Up,” you snap.

Spencer immediately scrambles off the couch and onto his feet, staring at you with wide, desperate eyes. 

“Go to the bedroom. I want you naked and kneeling on the floor by the time I arrive. And no touching yourself.” Spencer’s eyes get impossibly wider and he seems almost frozen with surprise. “Now, Spencer.”

He nods frantically and races down the hallway and into the bedroom. You love how desperate he is to obey you. Watching him practically trip over himself to do as you say makes arousal pool in your gut. You walk around to the front of the couch and sit where Spencer had been lying mere moments ago. You stare at your watch and press your hands between your legs to relieve some of the pressure.

Spencer has no doubt done what you said by now but you want to make him wait. He needs to learn some patience. Eventually, your own arousal becomes too much to bear and you follow him into the bedroom.

Ever the good listener, Spencer is kneeling on the floor completely naked. His hands are resting just above his knees and he’s squeezing his legs hard enough that the skin around his hands is white. His cock is hard and resting on his thighs and you can tell by how much it’s leaking that he hasn’t touched himself. The sight of him drives you crazy. 

He gasps your name when he sees you, but you walk toward the dresser at the other end of the room without acknowledging him. He whines pathetically and as much as you want to kiss him, you don’t turn around. You open the top drawer and move aside your underwear and socks to grab the strap-on and harness you’d purchased recently. You turn around, closing the drawer with your elbow, and Spencer’s eyes widen when he sees what you’re holding.

“Oh my God,” he gasps, his voice breaking slightly with desperation.

You toss the items onto the bed and twirl your finger. Immediately, Spencer shuffles around until he’s facing you, not leaving his knees once. 

You saunter forward, stopping only inches away from him. He lifts his hands and reaches out to touch you, his mouth hanging open and his chest rising and falling rapidly with each panted breath, but he lowers his hands when you give him a pointed look. The pure adoration and need in his eyes has you soaking through your underwear and it takes a tremendous amount of self-control not to kiss him. 

You grab the hem of your shirt and slowly pull it over your head. You can feel Spencer’s unwavering eye contact the entire time. You toss the shirt to the side and unbuckle your belt before pushing your pants and underwear down your legs at a snail's pace, never once taking your eyes off of Spencer’s face.

You step out of your pants and underwear and kick them aside as you reach around behind you to grab the dildo and harness off the bed. Spencer watches your hands intently as you slide the dildo through the hole in the front of the harness. “Please,” he gasps. “Oh my God, please, I need it! Please!”

You shoot him a glare and his mouth snaps shut.

“You want to use your mouth so bad?” you ask with a snarl, stepping into the harness and pulling it up to your hips. “Talking and talking nonstop? Distracting me even though you know I have to work? I’ll put your mouth to use.” You tighten the straps until the harness fits snugly around your hips and waist. “Maybe this will shut you up.”

You grab Spencer’s hair and pull him forward until his face is right in front of your strap. He falls slightly and scrambles until he’s sitting between your legs, looking up at you with an open mouth and wide eyes.

“Suck,” you command. The second the word leaves your mouth, Spencer wraps his lips around your strap with a pathetic moan, his eyes fluttering shut. He looks gorgeous like this and you can feel your arousal sticking to your thighs. 

Spencer bobs his head and a gasp forces its way from your throat as the base of the dildo presses against your clit. Spurred on by the sound of your pleasure, Spencer presses his face closer to you and wraps one of his hands around the base of the strap, stroking it in time to the movement of his head.

Each stroke sends pleasure shooting up your spine and you tangle your hands in his hair to steady yourself. “Such a good boy,” you groan. “Taking my cock so well.”

Spencer moans desperately and pulls his head away for a moment, not stopping the movement of his hands. He looks up at you with wet eyes. “You’re cock,” he rasps. “Love your cock. Tastes so good.” 

His voice already sounds ruined and the thought makes you moan as you push his head back down. He rewraps his lips around your cock and takes you down as far as he can. The dildo isn’t big and the tip of his nose presses lightly against your stomach. You can feel where the silicone hits the back of his throat and you moan loudly, your head falling back with pleasure. He wraps his hands around your thighs and holds you in place, slowly and gently bobbing his head. Even the slightest of movements send waves of pleasure through your body as the base of the dildo rubs against you and you have to fight the urge to buck your hips.

As if he could read your mind, Spencer pulls back off your cock and replaces his mouth with his hand, stroking rapidly. You gasp as each stroke presses the dildo against your clit with the perfect amount of pressure. You look down at him and the sight is almost enough to make you cum. His entire body is flushed red and his chest heaves with each desperate breath. His cock is red and hard and he’s leaked all over his lap, the hand not stroking you is clenched into a fist at his side so he doesn’t touch himself without permission. He looks divine.

Spencer stares up at you with an expression of pure need. “F-fuck my face,” he gasps, his voice weak and scratchy. “Please.”

His words send sparks of pleasure through you and combined with the movement of his hand you can feel your orgasm starting to pool in your belly. “Holy shit,” you gasp, nodding your head frantically, unsure of how else to respond. The moment he sees you nod he replaces his hand with his mouth, groaning loudly.

Your hips buck forward and the sensation makes you cry out with pleasure. Heat starts to climb up your back and you thrust sloppily into his mouth as you chase your orgasm. “Such a good boy,” you gasp. “Taking me so well. Touch yourself, baby, touch yourself while I fuck your pretty face.”

A loud moan rips from Spencer’s chest and even though you can’t see it, you know he has his hand between his legs and is desperately fucking his fist. 

“That’s it, baby,” you pant. “I’m so close.”

Spencer whimpers around your cock and you can see his hips moving desperately beneath you as he touches himself. His whole body tenses as he cums and the sight of his orgasm brings you to yours. You cum hard with a cry of his name. Your legs shake as pleasure shoots through your body and you struggle to stay on your feet. Your hips still and you untangle your hands from Spencer’s hair as he pulls back. 

He smiles a big dopey smile up at you and you sink to your knees to pull him in for a kiss. You rub your thumb over his cheek and he sighs into your mouth as he kisses you back. You pull away and he chases after you weakly. You chuckle and press a brief kiss to the tip of his nose. “Did so good, baby. So proud of you,” you whisper.

Spencer smiles and buries his head in the crook of your neck.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, alright, sweetheart?”

He nods and you guide him to his feet and into the ensuite bathroom. You undo and step out of the harness and set it and the strap on the edge of the sink to clean later. You turn on the bath and wipe the cum off his legs with a wet washcloth as you sit on the edge of the tub and wait for the water to get warm. Spencer stays pressed close to your side the entire time but you don’t mind. You love how soft and cuddly he gets after sex, especially when you’ve been a little rougher with him.

You keep one arm wrapped around him, holding him against your body, and feel the temperature of the water with the other. Satisfied, you plug the drain and let the bath start to fill. 

“Alright, sweetheart, the water’s nice and warm. Why don’t you climb in?” Spencer presses his face back into your neck. You feel a pang of worry at his lack of communication. “What’s wrong baby?” you ask gently. “Are you alright? Does anything hurt?”

Spencer shakes his head and wraps his arms tighter around you. You return his hug, rubbing your hand up and down his back, feeling the ridges of his spine under your fingertips. “Do you just want to be near me?” you ask. Spencer nods and your worry dissipates. You smile and press a kiss to the top of his head. “Okay, baby. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll join you in the bath, alright?”

Spencer nods and lets you guide him into the tub. You slip in right behind him and turn off the water. You press kisses to his back and shoulders as you bathe him, whispering praises until you’re both clean.

_____

Taglist!: fill out this form if you want to be tagged when I post fics

@daryls-crossbow16

[it-was-summer]

The Very First... Second... Third Night

A/N: Hey guys, happy fall!!! Fun fact about me, I love Season one reid so much it's not even funny. That's pookie!!!!! Anyways, enjoy this little fluffy cute thing I wrote in a romance-infused haze (I saw that photo of MGG in that pumpkin sweater at knott's berry farms and I needed Spencer in a Halloween way). MAYBE some porn coming soon idk man. Love you all!!-Em <3

Link to the Ao3: The Very First... Second... Third Night ->Link to the: Yee olde masterlist Tags: Can't remember if I use any female pronouns for reader, but warning just incase. Season one reid, MENTION OF JEID, SPENCELLE, AND bisexual Reid, Spencer reid being critical of himself, Spencer's POV for the most part, jello mentioned guys, Overstimulated Spencer Reid at a football game, mention of a cemetery, mention of Nosferatu (1922). Kind of proofread, yippie!!!

Genre: Fluffy meet cutes. Pairing: Season One! Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader.

Plot: Spencer runs into you twice before but only manages to get your name (and number) the third time.

Word Count: 3,863

First Meeting

Spencer can’t remember the last time this bookstore was so crowded. Personally, he tried to go on early Sunday mornings to avoid the crowds– if any– that came into the shop. Maybe he was being overdramatic. There couldn’t have been more than twenty people in the store with him. But it was still twenty too many. He softly apologizes to the elderly woman as he squeezes past her in the narrow nonfiction aisle. 

Most of the crowd seemed to be hovering around the fiction area, which was fine with him– the further away, the better. With his head turned to watch the small crowd bustle about the store, he didn’t notice the person standing just inches from him in the aisle. 

You stared at him with a confused expression for a second, thinking surely this man would move eventually. But the moment never came. He was tall with brown hair and long eyelashes. He had the fashion sense of a teacher– correction, teacher’s assistant. You clear your throat softly, hardcover clutched in hand as you watch the man’s head snap over to you, his cheeks flushing red. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t see you. Not that you’re hard to miss– I mean in a good way, you’re–” He closes his mouth and swallows hard, looking into your gentle eyes. “I’m sorry.” 

You would have felt a little agitated if he hadn’t seemed so earnest, but this man oozes social anxiety, and your heart takes pity on him. Your lips move to a slow smile, and you whisper a sweet, “That’s alright,” 

Spencer’s sure he’s never seen kinder eyes, “It’s just so busy today. I was looking at the crowd,” 

Your head turns at that, allowing Spencer to take in your features. A light sweater to accommodate the cool air this early-October morning, some Halloween earrings that make Spencer smile, and stunning eyes. “Book signing pop-up, it’ll be crazy until three. At least that's what the stock girl told me.” You’re soft-spoken, too. Spencer can appreciate that.

He nods slightly, looking down at the hardcover in your hand and then over at the crowd again, “Are you not here for the book signing?” 

“Afraid not,” You sigh as you hold up a historical fiction novel, “Me and my historical fiction novel were going to take a gander at some biographies.” 

He can’t help his peaked interest as he licks his lips, “Regarding?” He’s a fan of history himself and is always happy to interact with someone who also shares a love for it. He feels slightly less anxious talking about something he knows.

You twist your lips to the side like you’re silently debating whether or not you should tell him. You look away for a second, your eyes scanning the bookshelves on either side of you. “Salem Witch Trials.” You answer him bluntly. 

Spencer nods like he understands precisely what you mean, “Ah, the more humane witch trials.” It's a funny joke… to him, at least. 

But then your lips twitch upwards as you let out a quiet chuckle, “No burning for us, just rope and intense torture.” 

He feels electric, which is stupid because he shouldn’t feel excited over something as simple as someone joking with him, but he does. He’s been working on it upon Derek’s sarcastic request, and he can’t help but wonder if it is finally paying off now. 

Spencer feels the overwhelming urge to partake in what Garcia describes as ‘info-dumping ,’ but he bites his tongue as he settles on a simple question, “How come?” 

You shrug slightly as you look up at him. The bookstore light keeps making his eyes a soft amber, and you’re having a hard time looking away now. “Halloween tradition.” You watch his eyebrow furrow, raising a hand to explain yourself quickly. “My best friend and I each pick a historical event that is relatively macabre, and then we base our costumes around it and throw a party with a related theme. It’s... It’s stupid.” You say with a smile and a wave of your hand dismissively. 

Meanwhile, Spencer’s too busy thinking you’re the most extraordinary girl he’s ever interacted with. For the first time in his life, he’s desperate for an invite to a stranger’s party—a pretty stranger who has yet to tell him her name. 

“That’s not-” 

A woman’s voice cuts him off as she barrels down the aisle with a grin, “There you are, oh…” Her blue eyes look Spencer up and down carefully, studying him. “Hello, there.” She’s direct and forward and speaks in a tone that tells Spencer to leave you the hell alone. 

He nods curtly, waving slightly at your friend. You sigh out with mock annoyance as you say, “He’s a friendly, put your gun away.” 

“I don’t believe in guns.” 

“They’re very real, trust me.” Is your sarcastic reply before looking at Spencer again. “Thanks for the company. I’ll see you around.” And just like that… you’re gone. 

Second Meeting

Spencer is sure he’ll never see you again, but here he is a week later, still thinking about you on a case. Or rather, he’s thinking about every woman ever and that he’ll never have a chance with any of them… ever. He’s feeling rather lonely, or maybe his self-esteem is taking a certain nose-dive this fine San Diego day. 

It’s not because it’s his birthday. He doesn’t hate his birthday like Elle hates hers– that’s what she told him once—the day started off great: the trick candles, the big birthday hat, his embarrassing crush on JJ. And now, they’re discussing the case, a routine he enjoys. 

His mind, always full of helpful information, quickly recognized the ballad from the 17th century– betwixt death and a lady. After his comment regarding what people could find by typing the word ‘death’ in the search engine, Derek’s laughing, “Reid, no wonder you can’t get a date.”

It sticks on him; he would love to let it slide off his back, but he’s not familiar with that kind of territory– dating, that is– so it hits a nerve. A nerve that Spencer didn’t know was so exposed. The worst part is that Derek’s not wrong. Spencer can’t seem to get a date. Not with the pretty intellectual at the bookstore, JJ, or Elle– though that last one feels strange to admit to himself. 

He’s too awkward, speaks too fast, and, according to Gideon, needs to relax more. He’s sure… he’s cute, actually, he doesn’t know if he is. All he knows is that his mind is brilliant, his skills involving women… not so much. 

He’s silently mulling it over as he approaches one of the bulletin boards, muttering lines of the ballad softly when JJ walks up beside him, “Creepy, huh?” Her voice makes him look at her, hesitating as he replies. 

“Actually, uh, conversations between death and his victims was a fairly popular literary and artistic theme throughout the Renaissance.” He’s staring at the bulletin for a second before glancing her away, and his cheeks feel hot when he sees the way JJ is looking at him– disinterest. “But, yeah, creepy.” 

He feels like a teenager, and all those years spent in college and not high school are coming back to bite him. He liked girls and boys, too. He should be better at this, he has an IQ of 187 and five degrees to prove it. Spencer walks away from the conversation quickly, his feet carrying him away from the embarrassing moment as quickly as possible. He needs to focus on the case. 

And focus he does. He’s happy to analyze the meaning of the ballads at the crime scenes, his anxiety calming as he settles into the sweet caress of facts. Feelings, beauty, and tastes were all subjective. The objective was his comfort zone.

So it stands to reason that he feels lighter after conversing with Gideon about why the UnSub would start to use the ballad if it wasn’t a part of his signature. However, after the team delivers the profile, his lightness returns to his ruminating thoughts surrounding his lack of social skills. 

The more he thinks about it, the more he feels the icy breath of repressed memories breathing down his neck. A jammed locker, missing gym clothes, a dark bathroom bolted shut. As the team waits for the UnSub’s suspected phone call to the tip line, he reaches for his bag to pull out a Rubix cube. 

His fingers quickly twist and turn it aimlessly until he feels like it’s mixed around enough for him to solve it again. Elle is sitting in a desk chair in front of him as he solves it. He wants to ask her if she’d ever consider dating him, if she thinks JJ would, or if she feels any self-respecting woman would. He doesn’t, though, the question sounding too desperate in his head to say it out loud. 

Instead, he asks, “Do you think it’s weird that I knew that ballad?” His eyes don’t stray away from the cube for too long as he asks it, scared of what Elle’s gaze might tell him. 

He’s pleasantly surprised when she chuckles and says, “I don’t know how it is that you know half the things you know, but I’m glad you do.” 

Spencer feels insecure when he speaks again, but he has to know the answer, “Do you think it’s why I can’t get a date?” He looks up at her now, waiting for the brutal blow, which is her answer. 

Elle looks slightly amused. “You ever ask anyone out?” She smiles a little, seeing the genius look genuinely dumbfounded for a second as he thinks about it. 

He never had the confidence to walk up to someone he found attractive and say something interesting enough to warrant a ‘yes’ if he asked them on a date. “No,” 

She gives him a slight shrug of her shoulders, “That’s why you can't get a date.” And Spencer seems to nod at that, and his lips tighten for a second as he nods before he looks away from her again. His focus is pulled back to the case when the UnSub calls, and for a little while, he feels better. 

On the flight home, he’s almost completely forgotten about his spiral as he plays chess with Gideon. When he hands Spencer a small present, a little smile plays on his lips as he says, “But you don’t give birthday presents.” When he finally gets the present open, he feels a little confused as he thanks Gideon for the generous gift– two VIP box seat Redskin tickets. 

He’s excited, nonetheless, to experience something new with Gideon, and Spencer believes him when he says that Spencer will love it. 

“We are. You’re coming with me, right?” Spencer asks with a slight grin.

Gideon smiles, “No.” he doesn’t let Spencer’s confusion build for long as he quickly adds, “Someone else on the plane is a huge skins fan.” 

“Who?” 

“Only person in the world who calls you Spence.” 

Speaking of the only person in the world that calls him Spence, the date was going terribly. She had invited Penelope; she thought it was a group thing. He begged Hotch and Gideon for some pointers, anything. They reminded him she was already his friend, but that wasn’t very helpful. He knew how to talk to her on a typical day. On a date? Not so much.

Then, she invited Penelope. Now he’s stuck on a date where only one person in the group knows it was supposed to be a date, and he feels nauseous. He’s trying to keep a conversation going, but every time it picks up for a second, he feels himself fumble the metaphorical ball, and it dies again. 

Eventually, he excuses himself to get some air. He’s debating calling Gideon and updating him on how it’s going. His feet pace on the concrete stadium floor. He’s near the elevators, and he can barely hear himself– it’s auditory overload hell. He shuts his eyes tight, stuffing his phone back into his pocket as he covers his ears, leaning against the cool wall beside the elevators. 

It’s all muffled, barely helping, but the feeling of the cool wall on his back through his clothes helps relax him slightly. His shoulders relax briefly before he feels two fingers lightly tapping his shoulders, and he’s rigid again. 

Rigid until his eyes snap open to see that it’s you. You from the bookstore, with that same kind smile, same dazzling smile, it is you. You’re yelling over the shouting, but he can barely hear you. You laugh. He can only tell by your facial expression as all the sound falls deaf to his ears over the crowd's yelling. 

Once it calms down, you repeat yourself, “Are you alright?” 

He nods, then you’re giving him a skeptical look, and he slowly shakes his head. 

“Is it the noise?” 

A part of him wants to tell you that it’s everything he is experiencing today, but instead, he whispers a soft “Yes.” 

You twist your lips to the side, looking upset for him. Your empathy is so sweet and pure for him that he feels the knot in his chest unraveling slowly. “Let me buy you a water?” You offer, motioning to a concession stand a few steps away. 

He doesn’t remember saying yes, but you’re grinning as you walk with him to the stand and buy the two of you a bottle. After a sip or two, you say, “I’m not the biggest fan of football games either. My dad loves em’.”

He nods along silently, feeling so socially overwhelmed that he barely has the energy for more conversation. You seem happy to fill the gap: “I ran into you at that bookstore on 8th, right?” 

Spencer’s beaming as he pulls the bottle away from his lips, nodding, speaking for the first time in a while. “Yes.” 

You let out a happy hum, “Small world,” And Spencer agrees with you silently. 

It's the most comfortable he’s felt all week, and he wonders if maybe this failed date of his was a strange blessing in disguise. He’s about to ask for your name when Penelope approaches the two of you, blinking starstruck at Spencer and you as she introduces herself when the crowd begins to cheer again. Any noise he can hear is drowned out, frowning as you shake Penelope’s hand and say your name– a name he cannot hear. Some more words follow, but it's all small talk until you excuse yourself to return to your father in the stands. 

Then he’s the one being dragged away from you, convinced once more that he’ll never see his pretty stranger ever again. 

Third Meeting

It’s the night before Halloween. Ask anyone who knows Spencer; they will tell you he genuinely loves Halloween. It’s a part of him, always has been. He likes that you can dress up as anyone you want to be without judgment. He loves the build-up, the history, and the scents that fill the air. 

So, when he manages to get the night off, he’s quick to try and convince someone from the team to head over to a cemetery not too far from headquarters. Even when he explains how it is for a classic horror movie showing on the graveyard’s lands, everyone declines. 

Now, he’s setting up an oversized quilt on the soft grass, smoothing out the edges of the oversized quilt with his hands before sitting down on it. His hands move to his bag, pulling out a few of his favorite snacks, drinks, and so on as he watches the cemetery slowly fill up with people. 

He’s happy. He feels a little strange at the thought, but he’s happy– even if it is in the middle of a cemetery. 

A gentle voice cuts through the soft quiet of the graveyard, “I knew I was going to run into you sooner or later,” 

He turns his head to look at you, picnic basket and blanket in hand. You smile down at him. He trips over himself as he stands, his cheeks flushing as you laugh at the sight. He rubs his suddenly sweating hands on his button-up as he reluctantly offers you his hand to shake, only to realize that you don’t have a hand available. 

“Can I—” he says softly, “Would it be alright if I—" he swallows hard, his voice cracking lightly. Do you need help with your things?” 

You glance down at your hands, smiling slightly as you shake your head politely. “I’m sure I can find a good spot soon. I didn’t mean to disturb you.” 

“You’re not, honest. I’m, uh, I’m here alone, and it doesn’t start for another fifteen minutes.” You silently debate his offer, and then Spencer feels a wave of confidence surge through him, “You can always sit with me if you’d like. I promise I’ll try to be quiet.” 

You seem to think that’s funny as you nod, “Well, it is a silent film.” 

“You don’t have to say yes. I just have a big blanket, and I’m in a good spot to see the screen and–”

“I’ll sit with you,” You cut him off softly, bending down to gently get the picnic basket on the edge of his quilt. Spencer moves out of your way, awkwardly shuffling for a second before he decides this might be a good time to introduce himself. 

“I’m Spencer.” 

You glance up at him as you move to sit on the blanket, smiling as you tell him your name. He licks his lips nervously, nodding as he sits beside you. His nervous eyes dance over your figure as you set your blanket, which he now sees has little cartoon ghosts all over it, to the side of your basket. 

You’re frowning slightly as you reach into the basket, pulling out a small cup of jello and a spoon. “I’m sorry. If I had known I was sharing a blanket with someone, I would have brought another cup.” 

Spencer finds it funny as he leans over to his satchel and pulls out his own cup of jello and spoon, “No need,” 

You laugh lightly as you raise your jello cup to his. “Cheers, then. " Spencer smiles lightly as the two of you tap the edges together for a moment before falling into a comfortable silence while eating jello. 

Spencer’s spoon digs into the jello, and he asks, “Is this your first time seeing Nosferatu ?”

You let out a soft hum as you pull your spoon out of your mouth and quickly nod, “Yes!” You say after swallowing, “What about you?” 

“Third.” 

“Didn’t remember it well enough the first two times?” 

He lets out a shy laugh at that— it feels strange for someone to be unaware of his eidetic memory, and he wonders how long that’ll last. “Not exactly. I guess just like Halloween.” 

“A man of good taste,” You quip back softly, taking a smiling bite of jello. 

Spencer laughs as his eyes watch your lips close around your spoon before he pulls them away to look into your eye, hoping you don’t notice as he stutters lightly. “That’s debatable.” 

You’re looking down at your half-eaten Jello cup. “I’m the judge here. I deem it a fact that you are a man of good taste. You’re wearing a cardigan. That’s how the judicial system works, don’t you know?” You look back at him with a smirk, and Spencer can’t help the chortle that escapes his throat. 

“That is not how the United States judicial system works, but thank you.” 

“Yeah, you look like someone who would know all the inner workings of the judicial system.” 

Spencer can feel his cheeks getting red at how your voice sounds—teasing and a little flirty. Oh my god, were you flirting with him? He’s sure he’s all smiles and red cheeks as he looks at you, changing the topic. “None of your friends wanted to come with you tonight?”

“No, not their scene. It’s okay, though. I’m making a new friend right now.” 

Spencer’s finishing off his Jello as he steals a glance at you again, stars in his eyes. “You don’t even know me.” 

“Sure I do. Your name is Spencer. You like jello, nonfiction, Halloween, and dressing like a teacher’s assistant.” 

Spencer doesn’t want to say you’re wrong, even though he knows you’re just being nice, but he doesn’t want to spend another week without seeing you. He wants to be your friend— he’ll be anything you want him to be. “Could I–” He licks his lips, eyes searching yours nervously. 

You watch him carefully, tilting your head to the side as you look into his brown eyes. The sun is gone now, but the rising moon is shining down on him. He seems so… gentle, like a deer in a quiet forest.  A part of you just wants to scoop him up and bring him home with you, as inappropriate as that is. 

“You wouldn’t have to– It’s alright if you say no. I was just thinking I could give you my number sometime, maybe.” He manages with a gentle huff of air. 

You nod a little, “Sometime, maybe.” You repeat with a slight grin forming on your lips. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see the projector starting to play the movie, and a hush falls over the cemetery’s lawn. 

Spencer’s voice is a little too loud as he rushes to say, “I mean, now. Would it be alright if I–” A shush cuts him off, and his back straightens quickly as he shuts his mouth. His eyes meet yours for a second before darting over to the projection. 

You’re watching him again, how he’s staring at the screen like his life depends on it. You scoot closer to him, grabbing your folded-up blanket in the process. Once you reach his side, you drape the folded blanket around his shoulders carefully before doing the same to your own. 

His fingers gingerly grab one of the blanket's edges, casting you an apologetic glance for a second as your pants graze against his. You seem unbothered as you lean toward him. “I would love your number after this, " you whisper, looking up into his doe-like eyes before turning your head to watch the film. 

He’s beaming now as he stares at you, and his chest tightens slightly when you lean close to him again. You’re so close he can smell your perfume, the scent tangling with the sweet smell of crisp fall air. “You like costume parties?” Your voice is barely audible. 

He signals that he does silently, his head moving up and down quickly. The sight makes you grin as you mouth a silent, ‘Perfect’ at him before your attention is fully pulled back to the movie. 

Spencer feels warm all over for the rest of the night, and three months from now, he’ll start to believe three is a lucky number as he picks you up for your third date with him and just how perfect everything feels when he kisses you.