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writing-mlm · 15 days

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Hii I just found your blog actually and I love your stories,and uh,per say if I were to request a spencer reid x m reader where reader is a famous author and composer and whenever the team meets him it's pure chaos,just fluff in general actually. you don't have to do this if you don't want to of course! - Moony (shh it's a nickname that stuck)

Don't Spoil the Ending

Summary: Meeting your boyfriend's friends is a natural step but what isn't is them harassing you because you keep killing their favorite characters Pairing: Spencer Reid x Male reader W.C: 3k a/n: PLEASE I KNOW THIS TOOK ACTUAL YEARS IM SORRY oh and the walking dead spoilers ig

Whenever Spencer had one of his spells, whether that be his migraines or moments where the world just feels too much. Too heavy, too big, too scary, he went to your house. Your house, his escape from everything. A quaint home he could see himself moving into.

A lovely one-bedroom, two-story home tucked into a hidden part of the city. There’s a small garden in the back, hardly filled with vegetables and mainly flowers. The front lawn, when he had first seen it, was mowed down to the dirt and replaced with various native plants. It didn’t take long for it to get to its current state, a lovely amalgamation of plants and wildlife that thrived in the almost cottage-looking home.

He eyed the official state-provided Certified Wildlife Habitat sign that hung just in front of the property and let his messenger bag slump from his shoulder. There was no need to keep up appearances, not when you open the door and wait for him with a cup in hand. His mug. His mug you’d gotten him from the flea market on your first date and had remained in your house since the tenth date where he had to rush out for a case and never picked it back up.

“Should I cancel with your team?” You ask, voice soft as he takes the mug and nearly inhales the tea. He looks at you, confused and you know then and there the headache is bad. “Your team is supposed to come over for dinner today.” Blinking, he sets the mug down on the shoe rack and kicks his shoes off.

“No,” He sighs, his internal debate lasting nearly two whole minutes. “A nap and the rest of the tea should be fine.” It wouldn’t, you both know that but the dinner has been rescheduled twice already. Once due to the flu that was making its rounds through the entire team and another because you had an emergency to attend to.

“Okay,” You hum, locking the door. He eyes each of the three locks and finds your hand. “Do you want to hear a specific symphony?”

“Do you have anything new?” He asks, letting you guide him up the old wooden stairs to your bedroom.

“I do,” You nod. “I learned some music from Howl’s Moving Castle.”

“For inspiration for the DreamWorks movie?” Nodding, he sits with his back pressed to your headboard and the blankets pulled up to his belt.

“Remember to take off anything tight. So your belt, those socks, and such.” He smiles and nods, doing that as you leave the room and make your way down to the living room. Your piano is loud and sits at the perfect volume from your bedroom for his headaches. At night it’s amazing, the black-out curtains and the hidden glow-in-the-dark stickers around your room make him fall asleep in minutes.

He listens as the steps creak and gets to work on getting himself comfortable. He should get up within the next two hours and help you prepare dinner for the team. But he doubts you’d actually wake him up on time for that and wait until everything is done so he could rest for as long as possible.

Sipping the tea, he grabs his phone and sets a timer before placing it under the pillow. It’s silent but the vibrations will wake him up if you don’t. After doing that, he sets his things on the rocking chair and hears the starting notes of the music drifting up. He tries his best to focus on the music and not the notes themselves as he tucks himself into bed.

—

He was right.

He was absolutely right in that you wouldn’t wake him up. You even took away his phone when you went to check on him sometime later. He only woke up when he smelt the food coming from the oven and the loud ow you hissed when you bumped your forearm against the oven racks.

He doesn’t bother to fix himself as he stuffs his feet into his house slippers and begins his descent down to the kitchen.

“Aw, sorry, hun. I didn’t mean to wake you,” You call over your shoulder, hearing the banister creek under his hand.

“You should’ve,” He chided while wiping the sleep from his eyes. His migraine is gone, which is honestly surprising. It must’ve been a terrible headache, then. Especially considering he doesn’t medicate for them anymore. “I was supposed to help you. You didn’t even let me buy groceries.” He frowns, staring at the array of food you’d made.

“Please,” You dismiss, putting a damp cloth over your burnt forearm. “My brother came over while you slept and made half of it. New recipes for his restaurant.” Spencer looks at the fancy little labels on the trays; shawarma, broccoli cheddar potatoes, sun-dried tomato pasta, garlic bread, baked ziti, and lemon pepper chicken.

“Did you already make the dessert? I can help with that,” He offers, scanning the counters.

“You needed your rest, Spencer. Everything is already made and Derek said he’ll be here in ten. He’s picking up Penelope and Emily.” He stares at you and you stare back. “Fine. I haven’t finished cleaning the living room. Could you grab the extra chairs from the shed? Or grab the large tray from the cabinet and organize the brownie dip?”

“I got the brownie dip,” Heading out to the shed, you grab four foldable chairs and remind yourself to clean the dusty leather once you get back inside. You’d rearranged your entire living room and dining room for today. The couches, which used to be in a more closed position, were all shoved against the walls and the shelves you had were hidden away inside of your shed. Your coffee table, which Spencer vaguely remembered had different shapes, was out in its longest form and several coasters were scattered around. Not to mention plate mates stacked on the edge.

He’s glad you left the wall decorations up, although he thinks you could’ve done without the framed picture of you and him at your cousin's wedding where he has cake smashed on his face and your fingers are covered in white frosting. You still deny doing that.

“Like this?” He asks once you’re done cleaning the chairs. Peering over his shoulder, you rub along his hips and nod.

“Looks perfect. Have you tried it yet?” He shakes his head and you grab a graham cracker and put some of the dip on it. He takes it and tries it, aware of your gaze on him.

“It’s good.” He affirms and you nod, grabbing a strawberry and dipping it inside.

“My nan used to make it when we were kids. It’s super good, but she added rainbow sprinkles.” The doorbell rings and Spencer goes upstairs to get himself properly dressed while you go to the door.

“Hey, guys!” You greet them, their names popping into your head as you see them. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“Your lawn is beautiful,” Penelope says as she hugs you, careful to not drop the dish she’s brought. You think it’s some type of finger food because it moves around. “How’d you get it like that?”

“Oh, thanks. It’s almost native plants. The bees and butterflies do most of the work.” Stepping aside, you greet Emily and Derek and check outside. There’s no one else so you close and lock the door. Just one lock so you don’t have to keep undoing it until everyone gets there.

“This is lovely,” Emily says, her eyes taking in your home. She eyes the support beams and then the vintage wallpaper. “Aw, look at Spencer!” She laughs, staring at the picture from the wedding just as he’s coming down the stairs. His arm snakes around your waist and you hold his hand, eyeing their shoes.

“Do you guys want some house slippers?” He asks for you and takes them to the closet where you keep them. You bought some new ones just for today. When they return the door rings again and this time Spencer gets the door while you set out the food. You’ve never really hosted before, so you awkwardly stand in the space between the dining room and living room until Spencer beckons you over.

“This is Hotch and Jack, you’ve met JJ, her husband Will, and their sons. Henry and Michael. He introduces and you shake hands with the men and wave at the boys.

“It’s good to see you again,” JJ says as she pulls you in for a hug. You’ve met her twice, once at the park accidentally and another while you both were hanging out with your sister and niece at the mall.

“Likewise, please sit. The food is done so feel free to serve yourself.”

She nods and she and Hotch set their food next to the rest of the food. She’d brought three bags of chips and Hotch had gotten ham and cheese sliders. Derek had made macaroni and cheese, Penelope brought over zucchini garlic bites, and Emily brought over two bottles of red wine.

“This is a lovely house,” Will says as the two of you stand awkwardly, watching the others talk to each other.

“Thank you. You have a lovely family,” He smiles over at them and nods.

“Are you and Spencer ever gonna…” He trails and you suck in a breath. Your home isn’t exactly big enough for kids, maybe just you and Spencer. It’s not even ideal for hosting, but you made it work.

“One day, maybe.” You answer, looking at him as he’s holding Henry. “We haven’t talked about that yet.” He nods and you get to leave when Rossi knocks on the door.

“Am I the last one?” He asks upon hearing the noise.

“They say the best is last, no?” He laughs and nods, presenting his famous pasta and you happily lead him to the food table. Some of the food is already gone and you see Spencer holding two plates. Making your way over to him, his eyes light up and he hands you one of the plates.

“I noticed some of it was going quickly,” He explains as you take the plate. It’s piled in neat forms, none of the food touching each other. “So, I made you what I thought you’d like.” Thanking him, you drag him to a seat and everyone settles down with their plates.

Turning the TV on, you put on a random show and tune the conversation going on around you.

“This is really good,” JJ says, pointing her fork at the broccoli cheese potatoes.

“Is it?” You ask and get an enthusiastic yes from Jack. “I’m allergic to broccoli so I’ve never actually tried it.”

“Aw man, you’re missing out.” Derek sighs, rubbing his stomach after he’d eaten three of them and you laugh, twirling the plastic fork around the Rossi pasta.

“(Y/n)’s brother owns a restaurant, he’s thinking of adding those to the menu.” Spencer explains and you nod, putting the fork down.

“It’s called Bun-Apple Tea. He’s thinking of adding those, the tomato pasta, and the baked ziti to his menu. I’m usually his test subject but he appreciates the wider audience.”

“Oh, he should add it.” Will says. He’s been busy feeding Michael bites of the garlic bread while also feeding himself the macaroni and cheese. “I took JJ there once, she loved it.” She nods and recounts the experience and your eyes widen.

“I worked that day!” You admit. “I was playing some music, were you the couple that had ordered the mushroom soup and the couple next to you tried to steal it?”

“Oh my god, yes!” She laughs. “You were playing the piano, right?” You nod and tell the story to the others.

“Spencer mentioned you’re a writer, too, right?” Hotch asks.

“I am,” Sheepishly, you look at Spencer. He smiles at you, not even sorry that he talks to his friends about you and your jobs. “I mainly write young adult fiction but I’ve started writing science fiction.” You elaborate.

“One of his books is getting a TV show.” Spencer easily boasts and everyone congratulates you. “He’s also going to be the lead composer for it.”

“That’s amazing.” Emily says. “What book is it?”

“It’s one of my series; The Walking Dead. It was also a comic book for a special edition my publisher did.” The conversations devolve until you get up for a second plate of food from the kitchen. Spencer follows you with a large grin and fixes himself some more juice.

“They like you,” He says and you look over at him. “I knew they would, of course.” He adds. “But this… wow. We should have a watch party for when the show comes out.”

“Maybe.”

—

“Ahh! My friend made this!” Penelope shouts as she shakes your shoulder. The first episode of The Walking Dead was set to air in just a couple of seconds and as Spencer predicted; it turned into a watch party.

It’s been nearly a year since the first time you’ve met them and you’ve been busy composing and having the final say over most of the show. Spencer sometimes tags along, giving his opinion on how certain things would look from a scientific standpoint. But there’s a lot of far-fetched imagination when it comes to zombies and what people could do.

You think he just likes learning from the design crew on how they do things. He does. But he also likes seeing your book come to life, remembering each detail, and having people fix them without you noticing.

Everything had come to fruition after several months of working and pitching ideas, not to mention filming and creating sets.

You’re all at JJ’s house, scattered amongst the floor with the boys upstairs asleep. You’d warned them it’s definitely not suitable for them just yet and they trusted that.

“This opening is good.” Derek says and you thank him. You want to tell him it was you and Bear McCreary who helped compose and Dominik Hauser who helped perform it with you but you don’t think he cares all that much.

Spencer lays his head on your shoulder and you wrap your arm around him, happily watching the show that you know is going to ruin them forever. You’re glad they haven’t read the books, because damn. You look at all these faces that don’t make it to the final chapter and wonder how mad they’re going to be when their favorite will inevitably die.

And boy, did they hate you.

By the end of season one they all but refused to tell you their favorite characters. Never mind the story has been written and you couldn’t change it. Penelope would send you voicemails crying whenever she watched an episode early, yelling at you for killing her favorite character or someone who definitely didn’t deserve it. You made it up to her by being able to let her meet the actors during Comic Con the same year.

Spencer, on the other hand, knows everything. They’ll pester him at work for spoilers and he’d just shrug.

“I don’t remember who died.” He tells Morgan one day.

“You remember what you ate for breakfast when you were ten. You know who dies this season! Who is it?” Derek demands, following Spencer out of the bullpen and into the elevator.

“I know,” Emily grins.

“How?” Derek asks, his gaze accusing Spencer of spilling the beans to her but not to him.

“It was a book first, genius,” She reminds him and shrugs. “I got tired of waiting and just read the book for this reason.” Stepping into the elevator Derek groans. He’s not going to read the book.

“How’d you like it?” Spencer asks and she groans, throwing her head back.

“It was so good! The deaths hurt like a bitch.” She explains and he laughs.

“His sister blocked him for a month for killing this one character.” He explains and she nods, that’s completely justified.

The elevator doors open and they spot you waiting at the front of the building, holding a cup of coffee and talking to JJ.

“Hey, sweetheart,” He kisses your forehead as your conversation comes to a natural stop.

“Sup,” Handing him the coffee, you greet the others. “I got your email Derek, and I’m not telling you.” You all walk outside and Derek pushes your head.

“I’ll just read the book.” He turns his nose up and you hum.

“This book took Spencer twenty minutes to read.”

“Damn. How long is the audiobook?”

“About thirty-six hours,” Spencer answers. “Thirty-five hours and fifty-two minutes long.”

“Oh, hell no. I’ll wait,”

“I couldn’t.” JJ sighs. “I finished the book last night.” He huffs and leaves the group, heading to his car. The others laugh and also split up leaving just you and Spencer.

“They’re not ready for Carl’s death.” He tells you, a hint of a smile on his face.

“You certainly weren’t,” You snicker, grabbing him by his wrist. “Now let’s hurry, I still need your opinion on suits for the award show.”

—

“You’re hurting my ears,” You tell Emily as she plays your piano in all the wrong ways. “My poor baby is being abused by you, I hope you know that. You monster.”

“What about me?” Penelope grins, playing your violin.

“You’re actually killing me. The two of you are going to become murderers at this rate.” She frowns and checks her fingers on the violin before playing one actual note. “That was good. But I can also see JJ about to pick up my trombone and that thing was my very first instrument so she should put it down.” Carefully, she sets it back in the case and Spencer comes down the stairs with Derek close behind.

“Oh, are we playing?” Derek asks and b-lines for the cello you have.

“They’re killing me,” You mumble to Spencer at the base of the stairs. Neither of you are hiding your expressions, not even when JJ joins Emily on the bench and they play horrid— horrid sounds.

“I’m about to spoil the Glenn death to get them to stop.” You whisper, staring at Penelope as she pressed too hard on the strings and winced.

“Don’t,” He gasps. “They’ll never recover.”

“Good. Neither will my ears after this torture!”

#x male reader #x reader #spencer reid x male reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #can you tell i rushed this

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