#cute Spencer Reid x reader

[sis-does-simp]

I think the only man I’d ever WANT and NEED to do this to is Spencer omg I love this

Oral Presentation (S.R.)

Summary: Spencer teaches Reader what to do when she’s on her knees. Request: reader giving spence head for the first time? and she’s worried she’s not doing it right but he’s obviously enjoying it? Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Smut (NSFW, 18+) Content Warning: Oral sex (male receiving) Word Count: 1.2k

MASTERLIST

If you could choose to do one thing for the rest of your life, you’re pretty sure it would involve Spencer Reid.

Despite the fact you’d only been dating for a few weeks, you felt as though you’d known him a lifetime. You’d even joked with him that the reason you were so woefully unpracticed with all aspects of dating was because you’d been waiting to find him.

Now that you’d found him, however, that lack of experience had caught up to you. On a simple date night where you had teased a little bit too hard, the fear of sexual inadequacy seemed almost unbearable.

Despite your fervent insistence that you wanted to try something new, Spencer could tell you were more nervous than usual. Your seat on his lap made him even more acutely aware of the way you trembled. He tried to calm you with gentle hands up and down your legs, but even that seemed to unnerve you further.

“What’s holding you back, sweetheart?” he whispers so sweetly it makes you shiver.

Your mind is so distracted by the imposing heat and hardness underneath you that you struggle to answer. Your eyes are bouncing between the collar of his shirt and pretty peach lips begging to be kissed.

You can’t look him in the eyes because you know he’ll know the truth.

That’s exactly why he places a gentle hand beneath your chin and makes you do it, anyway.

“I’m nervous you aren’t going to like it,” you blurt out.  

“Trust me, I will.”

To ease your ache, he kisses you. The rough scruff of his face is the most intoxicating contrast to the softness of his lips.

You sigh, and he smiles.

“I’ll help you, I promise.”

Before you can protest, his legs start to shift open beneath you. Spencer holds you down gently to prolong the erection straining against his pants. He can feel the twitching of your heat through the layers, and it makes his voice become even darker as he issues a simple order.

“Get on your knees.”

Your body moves without further prompting. Your mind is both filled to the brim and silent at the same time.

While you settle into your new position, Spencer is quick to pull himself free from fabric confines. He groans with relief, quickly to be followed by another moan when you wrap both hands around his dick.

It takes very little thought to conclude that it would not fit easily.

But all Spencer cares about is the way it feels when your hands start to move.

“Good girl, keep going,” he whispers breathlessly, “Just use your tongue when you’re ready.”

The instruction is vague, so you wait for his eyes to open and focus on you again before you proceed.

Only then do you lean forward and ask, “Like this?”

With a flat tongue, you draw a line from base to tip. The skin feels even softer than you imagined.

Spencer grips the edge of the couch hard enough to blanch his knuckles.

You almost wish his fingers were wrapped around your hair, instead.

“Fuck,” he answers after you try again, “Yes, yes, that’s it.”

There is a dreamlike quality to each word, each utterance of assurance between groans and whimpers makes you even more excited.

You keep going, maneuvering with hands and mouth to make sure that you covered as much as you could. Then, without waiting for further instruction, you wrap your lips around the head of his dick.

Your fantasy comes to life just as quickly. Spencer’s hand jumps up to tangle in your hair without hesitation. There is a brief tug of pressure that coincides with a sharp gasp of breath.

“Such a quick learner,” he slurs through the new sensation.

You want him to keep going, so your tongue starts to circle the soft curves of him. It seems so perfectly shaped to slide down your tongue that you are tempted to continue.

“So eager to please the teacher,” he hums.

For a moment, you think he might guide you by your hair. But to your dismay, he releases his hold. Any disappointment is soothed soon thereafter when he begins stroking your hair.

He is so gentle, so patient, so loving as he waits for you to discover your own limits.

But he watches you like something sinister. You can feel it even when it’s hard to look him in the eyes. You can feel how his muscles twitch and shake with restraint.

He wants it to be your decision to try to take all of him.

You do—try. You only make it a few inches, however, before your throat quivers and you choke on the once welcome intrusion.

Spencer pulls you off in one smooth motion.

“Sorry,” you sputter out with a cough.

“Don’t apologize,” he says.

It isn’t until you look at him that you realize the true extent of pleasure that he’d derived from watching you choke. His fingers twitch around your hair and his lips fight a devilish smirk.

“You don’t need to go down so far,” he assures you, anyway.

He uses his free hand to guide yours to the tip once more. He shudders at how easily your fingers slide over slick skin.

“This is the most sensitive part,” he explains, “Your hands are fine for the rest of it.”

“A-Are you sure?”

“Positive,” he answers. Without further instruction, he uses his grip on your hair to bring your face to his lap once more.

There is no hesitation this time. You return to your attempts, armed with the knowledge that your first try had been the best one.

Using both your hands and your mouth, you move just enough to remind him how cold the world felt compared to you. You let yourself go longer, slower, faster, harder. The spit gathered around your lips and began to drip down to eager fingers.

Spencer couldn’t contain his appreciation any easier than you could. The beautiful sounds became louder and more plentiful, and, soon enough, they were joined with small motion from his hips.

His hand in your hair also became more commanding. You start to notice the growing resistance with each movement until he is moving you on his own.

“You feel so fucking good, baby,” he groans just as tears start gathering in your eyes.

He looks down at you and his hips buck forward at the sight.

“I’m so close, I’m so…”

You try to keep up, to hold on a little bit longer to grant him release. You are hardly prepared for the sensations you expect to follow, but you are willing to try.

Spencer doesn’t leave it up to you, though. Instead, he pulls you off at the very last second. His hand joins yours and continues with feverish strokes until he finally comes undone.

The warm, sticky liquid splatters across your mostly exposed chest. Each drop came as a shock.

Spencer seemed to take pride in that, too. He watched with rapt fascination each time your swollen lips sucked in a breath that shook your chest.

Once he was spent, he used both hands to keep you close until he was cognizant enough to place a chaste kiss against your forehead.

“Did I do alright?” you ask immediately.

“Yes,” he answers. But before you can celebrate, he continues, “but we should do it again to be sure.”

Your heart drops at the implication. You almost start to apologize.

But then he forces you to look at the devilish smirk creeping over his face before he teases, “Practice makes perfect, after all.”

(Tell me what you thought about this fic here!)

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Reid Taglist (Everything Reid): @mrs-dr-reid , @dreatine , @hopefulfangirl24 , @laurakirsten0502 , @dontcallmekittens , @rintheemolion , @andreasworlsboring101 , @imsuperawkward , @wentz2005 , @lovejules888 , @dashneydanger , @materialisthicc , @violetspoetic , @mslowlife

Complete Taglist (All Works): @cynbx , @emsma11 , @mediocre-writer , @fightingdragonswithwho , @andiebeaword , @jayyeahthatsme 

[incognit0slut]

He’s just a 43 year old baby :(

[spencerreiddddd]

Unfocused

Gist: Spencer can’t seem to focus when you’re around.

“That’s why the magnetic force that the magnet pushes….towards…the… um.-“ Spencer trails off his eyes moving from Derek’s unamused and bored face to you as you walk in through those double glass doors your hair bouncing as you walk with purpose to your desk.

Spencer couldn’t understand how someone could look so beautiful in every angle and anytime.

“Earth to lover boy.” Derek’s voice broke Spencer’s train of thought as he snapped his fingers in-front of Spencer’s face a bow amused expression laid on Derek’s face.

“Hmmm- huh? What?” Spencer said looking at Derek .

“You gotta a little drool there.” Derek cackled as he swiped Spencer’s chin with his index finger.

Spencer slapped his hand away with an annoyed roll of eyes.

“Hey there boys.” Your voice broke out causing Spencer to flinch and Derek to scoff a laugh.

You walked over to them by the Kitchen to prepare yourself a good o’l quantico coffee.

“Good morning beautiful.” Derek said giving you a side hug and a kiss to your temple as he looked at Spencer teasingly of course all without your knowledge.

“Morning biceps.” You responded as you grabbed the sugar.

You smiled at Reid your best friend and gave him a nudge “I don’t get a good morning anymore? Did I lose my best friend status?” You joke flashing him a smile which in turn makes Spencer laugh.

“Of course not you could never.” He says laughing and hugs you squeezing your shoulder ever so slightly and unknowingly to you taking a whiff of the perfume you were wearing.

Derek having walked away allowed Spencer to stand ever so close to you, as he always did. Spencer reminded you of a velcro shoe once you stick it on it doesn’t come off easily.

You would be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy the attention and affection he gave you.

The rest of the day went on like that everywhere you went Spencer was right there. Never far and always somehow finding a way to touch you.

[esote-rika]

A bookstore meet cute I wish I could experience | Spencer Reid

Category: Fluff with S4 awkward, nerdy rizz Spencer

Warnings: use of Y/N, unedited (tenses keep shifting, sorry)

A/N: this is just 1.8k words of self indulgent self insert. Like this is inspired by some unpleasant experiences I've had talking with men about books in the past lol, and reader's responses defensive responses had been me at some point. i feel like a conversation with Spencer Reid would heal me, thus this fic. Also, save me, s4e9 Spencer Reid, save me.

He seemed like a fixture to the bookstore, if fixtures moved on their own. Or if they moved up and down the aisles with elegant fingers tracing the spines of the books on display. Or if they dressed like a rumpled professor, complete with the black rimmed glasses. He just seemed like he was part of the space, and you thought that every bookstore should probably come with one - a tall, attractive nerd who drifted all over the room like some sort of phantom. Maybe that would help with the literacy problem. It certainly would bring more people in, make them more interested in reading.

You've been trying to figure him out from afar, as subtle as you can. You're not a creep, after all, but he cuts such a lonely figure that you couldn't help but wonder if he needed some company. A part of you wonders if he's noticed you as well. This store is your late afternoon treat, after all. You come here every Friday, without fail, even when you know the inventory is unreplenished, simply to bask in the presence of books.

And then he started coming in regularly, and you had another reason to come.

You never approached him. Something about simply knowing he's there, while remaining a stranger, is thrilling. You can romanticize him if he's a stranger, project all the wholesome fantasies and book boyfriends you have upon him with no sense of accountability.

It also means you avoid the disappointment if he turns out to be another condescending know it all, eager to put you and your reading habits down because oh your tastes are so girly.

No, this was better. You're a flaneur, you tell yourself, you're here to be part of the space and observe from within, even though you doubt this is what Baudelaire had in mind when he wrote that essay and defined the term.

Still.

You smile to yourself, crouching down to check the books on the lower shelf, and also to catch a glimpse of his legs. He'd been on the other side of this shelf for the past five minutes, and you've gotten a soft chuckle when you saw his mismatched socks.

However, his lean form is nowhere to be seen. He seems to have moved to another aisle. With a small frown, you move to stand up, only to feel a tug.

“Shit,” a quick glance down reveals that a familiar looking shoe has accidentally stepped on your long skirt. You hadn't realized it billowed out around you when you knelt down.

“Oh, I'm so sorry!”

You look up and realize why the shoe looks familiar. It's him. You couldn't see him in the other aisle because he'd moved to your side, so silently you hadn't even heard him.

“Sorry, oh gosh, I didn’t notice.” He steps off quickly, and you watch as his cheeks bloom bright pink. A pink that quickly travels down his neck.

You stifle a laugh at how easily he blushed. “It's fine.” Your attempt to stand is more successful without his foot pinning the fabric of your skirt to the ground.

“I've messed up your skirt though.” He says, looking at the brown smudge left behind on the skirt.

“It's no big deal, it’ll come out.” You shrug, getting a good look at him this time. He's taller than you thought, with a sharp bone structure that's softened by large, hazel eyes and pouty lips. His hair is slicked back, curling at the nape of his neck, the color a soft brown that matches his eyes. Yeah, one of him should really come in every bookstore, you think.

“O-okay, uh, if you're sure…” He says, rubbing his hands on his pants. A nervous energy emanates from him, disrupting your idea that he's calm and tranquil.

Oh well, there goes that fantasy. Still, you wonder if maybe he's nervous because of you.

“I still feel bad though,” He adds, looking around, “Uh, how about I buy you a book for the inconvenience?”

“It's hardly an inconvenience,” You laugh, “But hey, I won't say no to a free book.”

He perks up, “Great. I'm Spencer, by the way.”

“Y/N. It's nice to meet you, Spencer.”

He repeats your name, and you find yourself enjoying the shape his mouth makes as he tests it out, lips and tongue wrapping around the syllables as if he wants to commit the way it feels in his memory.

You mentally kick yourself in the ass, wondering if you've read too many romance novels.

“Likewise,” He smiles, and you have to remind yourself that it's rude to stare at the lips of someone you just met. It's not your fault he has such pretty dimples, and you had the urge to count them. He continues, “So what kind of books do you like, Y/N? Romance?”

Your eyes narrow at that. You wonder how to answer. Yes? Would he judge you if you say yes? Is he one of those guys, the ones who only read heavy, intellectual books and look down on people who read fluff? Do you want to try and impress him by saying no, by scoffing and saying something like of course not I’m looking for a copy of Swann's Way by Marcel Proust? (which is the most “impressive” book you can think of at the moment). The idea seems too gross, too I'm not like other girls, and you immediately cross it out.

“And if I do?” you ask instead, surprised by the edge to your voice.

He blinks, then shrugs, looking entirely innocent. “Then we should head to the romance shelf over there.”

Once again, you're surprised. Some part of you had been expecting a smirk, maybe a roll of his eyes, that look you get when you even dare to bring up the romance genre. But, no. He starts walking to a different part of the store and you're forced to follow.

“Why did you think I read romance?” the words escape your lips before you can stop them.

He ducks behind a shelf, his hair falling down and hiding his face but you get a glimpse of the bright red skin of his neck. He's blushing again.

“Well, it's - ah - that is, I've noticed you here before, and you always seemed to hang out here in the romance section.” He says in a rush, his head still angled away from you.

You feel simultaneously called out, and a little giddy. So he's noticed you, just as much as you'd noticed him.

“So you're a stalker.” You can't help but tease.

He lets out a sound, somewhere between an indignant sputter and a scoff. “What? No! I just happen to be very observant, it's a skill I've learned to hone for my job, and you're not very hard to remember-” He cuts himself off, peeking at you with a horrified look on his face.

Laughter tumbles from your lips, and you clamp your teeth down your bottom lip to stop.

“I was teasing you.” You say, trying to fight the giggles.

He seems relieved, but the crease on his brow remains, a sign of his previous embarrassment.

“And you're right. The romance section has the biggest amount of secondhand books that I can read while I'm here.” You explain. This aisle also gives you the best view of the nonfiction section, which he frequents, therefore giving you the perfect spot to observe him over the past few weeks. Though you leave out that part.

“Ah,” He nods, looking around, “See anything you like?”

“No, I'm actually looking for a copy of The Hobbit right now.”

He lights up, “Oh, you're a fan of Tolkien too? I love him, he's such a genius and completely innovated the fantasy genre! So much so that he - wait, if you're looking for The Hobbit, why didn't you tell me sooner?”

“You just started walking.” You reply, smiling at him. He's adorable when he becomes so animated, hands waving around like his body can't contain his excitement and has to find ways to express them physically. “Had to follow you. But anyway, I'm assuming you've read The Hobbit?”

He accepts your explanation easily, then nods his head. You can't help but compare him to a puppy, so eager and nearly frantic in his excitement.

“I've read every Tolkien book.” He says, and you're surprised to find his voice contains no hint of superiority, or cockiness. Just genuine joy. It's refreshing, “Including The Silmarillion."

“Oh wow,” You laugh, aware of the reputation that tome carries, “I've only seen the Lord of The Rings movies.”

“Well that's not sufficient at all! You're missing out on so much history,” He says, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Mhm, well help me find The Hobbit first, before I move on to the trilogy.” You reply, already walking over to where you know the fantasy books are.

He follows you, smiling bashfully, “You know, I have copies of all the books… I can just lend them to you, if you want.”

You pause, glancing over your shoulder in surprise. “You'd let a stranger borrow your books?”

“Only if you promise to take care of them.” He says, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck.

“I swear on my life, I will not tarry your precious copies of Tolkien's masterpiece.” You make a cross over your heart for emphasis, which makes him laugh. This time, you stare at his lips shamelessly, enjoying the dimples that appeared from the action.

“Okay, maybe we meet up over coffee sometime?” he asks, fiddling with the strap of his bag. “I'll bring the books.”

You fight the urge to squeal. Your body refuses to contain the giddiness, and the sound compromises by coming out as a giggle.

“Yeah, sure.” you watch as he digs into his pocket, handing over a card. “Oh, how very professional.” You say playfully, accepting the slip of paper.

He ducks his head, and you see the beginnings of the blush creeping down his neck. It feels exhilarating, being able to make him blush like this.

“It's just more practical.” He mumbles.

You grab your phone quickly, typing in his number and giving it a call, so that your number goes through his as well. “I'll give you a call. But, you still owe me a book for this.” You motion at your skirt, at the stain of his footprint on the fabric.

He chuckles, “Of course. Can't go back on my promise.” he looks around the store and you're taken by the sight of him, looking like he's part of the space, like he simply belongs here. And this time, with you standing next to him, with him. “Take your pick.”

“I'm pretty indecisive.” You say playfully.

“I have time.” He smiles, and you find he has two dimples on one side of his face, and only one on the other. Your chest feels heavy with something that you can't quite put a name to yet, but you're eager for more of it.

[marvelwitchergilmore]

First Kick

Summary: Aaron Hotchner x Fe!Reader -> Both you and Aaron have been in a secret relationship for three years, except when you go into labour, the rest of the team can't help but speculate.

Disclaimer: Just pure fluff. Small descriptions of labour. BAU being a family. Jack and Haley don't exist in this fic. Not Proof Read.

You would have thought working with a bunch of FBI profilers, they would have figured out the truth by now. 

But they hadn’t. 

Instead, both yourself and Aaron had lived in wedded bliss for the last three years and were now expecting your first child. 

Of course, that couldn’t be hidden from the team. The constant morning sickness. The aversions to certain smells. The swollen ankles, the overwhelming emotions and the growing belly. 

Which, as you were sitting at the dim light of your desk filling in the last of the paperwork for your latest case, began to move. 

The others had stepped out for a while, grabbing some food. They had invited you except the thought of walking a block and a half already made you want to fall asleep. So, kissing the top of your head, Morgan took your order and promised to bring you back extra guac. 

The hum from the headphones you placed around your belly filled the small silence, a tune of Motzart rather than a constant drum of a nearby printer. 

However, from under the headphones, you felt a movement. 

It wasn’t big. Barely noticeable. But it was there. 

Or was it? 

Maybe it was nothing. 

Except, twenty seconds later, you knew for certain. 

Pulling the headphones from you, you stood up immediately and rushed towards Hotch’s office. 

And you continued with your normal routine. Knocking on his door, calling his name and stepping inside. 

“Is everything okay?”

Trying not to raise any alarm, you closed his office door behind you before shutting the blinds. 

“Is everything okay?”

Aaron scanned your face. “Honey?”

Within seconds he was by your side. “What is it?”

But then you smiled. And he became confused. 

“What-”

“Feel.”

Taking his hand, you guided it to cover part of your growing belly. “What am I-”

Kick.

You watched every emotion possible pass over Aaron’s face as he took in the feeling of your child kicking his palm. 

“Is that-”

Kick.

Then he laughed. 

Aaron Hotchner laughed. 

It wasn’t often that you got to see this side of your husband when at work. So it was a nice surprise when you did. 

Within seconds, he had stepped a little closer and had carefully removed his hand from the top of your stomach and slipped it under the hem of your shirt, allowing his warm palm to rest against your skin. 

Then your baby kicked harder. 

You both laughed that time. 

“Hey, ow.” You said, looking at your stomach. 

Aaron chuckled lightly before resting his forehead against yours as his other hand rested against your face, brushing the fallen hair from your face and cupping your cheek. 

“She’s moving.” 

You smiled. “You’re still convinced it’s a girl?”

“Of course I am. I’m a profiler. I should know.” 

You chuckled lightly, shaking your head. “I’m a profiler, too, you know.”

“I know.”

“And it’s mother.”

“And you disagree?” He asked, still with a light smile gracing his lips. 

You hummed. “I’m uncertain.”

“Well, how about I give you my profile and see how you feel?”

You laughed. “It really is second nature to you.”

Aaron hummed before moving his hand, still under your shirt, to the top of your belly. 

“You’re carrying high, for one.” His thumb traced back and forth on your stomach. “You’ve suffered with morning sickness before twelve weeks, your main craving so far has been fruit. You sleep on your right side.”

“I always sleep on my right side.”

Aaron smiled. “And your skin,” He stroked his thumb against your cheekbone. “It’s soft.”

You smiled, leaning into his touch. “Except, they are just old wives tales.”

“I’d like to think there is still some justice in them. Are you sure you want to wait until they’re born?”

“Yes.”

“And you couldn’t be persuaded?”

“Nope.”

“Are you sure?” Aaron smirked a little before leaning in and kissing you. 

Pulling his hand from your stomach, he brought it up to the other side of your face and it wasn’t long before he felt your body melt into his. 

“The others are going to be back soon.”

Aaron groaned a little but not before kissing you a last few times before pulling away. 

“You’d think they would have figured it out by now.” 

You nodded. “But it is kinda fun. And I can’t wait until they see our baby. I have a feeling they’ll look like you.”

“I should hope so.”

You laughed. “You know what I mean. And, if it is a girl, don’t they usually look like they’re dad?”

“Are you saying you agree with my profile?”

You hummed. “Maybe. Just a little. You are the Unit Chief of the BAU, so I suppose you have some credibility.”

“Even if they’re just old wives tales?” He asked, raising his eyebrow a little. 

You nodded, with a slight smile. “Even if they’re just old wives tales.”

You finally left his office just before the team got back, but not before stealing a few more kisses. 

Over the following months, the team grew more protective of you. With your pregnancy coming to an end, and still not knowing who the father was, they began to step up. 

It was sweet to watch. 

Penelope had planned your baby shower with JJ’s help. Reid had read up on everything a doctor and midwife knew about giving birth, just in case you went into early labour. Emily had helped you pack your spare hospital bag for the office in case you were rushed into labour whilst at the office or away on a case, being too far from home to drive to get your hospital bag. 

And when Hotch couldn’t be by your side, he made sure either Rossi and Morgan were there to help you. 

“You okay there, Momma?”

You looked to Morgan who had appeared from around the corner. You were leaning against the counter, your hand holding onto the bottom of your belly. 

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine.” You breathed out. “Just a little- ow. Okay. Hey-”

“Whoa, hey, okay, take it easy.”

Morgan placed his coffee mug down, coming right back to your side and holding your hand. “What do you need?”

Your grip tightened around his hand. “Ow. Hospital.”

“Okay, okay. Where’s your hospital bag?”

“By my desk. Emily-” You grunted in pain. “Emily knows.”

“Okay, okay. It’s okay. Emily!”

Turning around, it took Emily less than ten seconds to realise what was going on. 

“Okay, Garcia. Hey! Penelope, call Hotch. Let him know what’s going on.”

“Why, what’s-O…oh my god. Okay, Okay. Calling him now.”

By the time Morgan got you to the parking lot, Hotch was pulling in. 

“Get in, I can drive her straight there.”

“Have you got everything you need?”

You nodded. 

“Call us if you need anything?” Emily asked, shutting your door. 

You could only hum, holding onto Emily’s hand. 

She leaned in for a moment, kissing your cheek. 

“See you when you get back, Momma.”

Hotch pulled away a few moments later, rushing you directly to the hospital. 

And for the next twenty hours, Hotch stayed by your side. And the rest of the team started to think. 

“I mean, think about it. When she got braxton hicks. Who was the first one at her side?”

“Hotch.” Penelope answered. 

“Yeah, and the way he looked. I don’t know about you but I have never seen Hotch that nervous.”

“That is true.” Rossi agreed. 

“But they can’t be…together, can they?” JJ asked. “You all had it sussed about me and Will. They couldn’t go this long and not have us at least find out.”

“Maybe they didn’t want us to.”

“Or maybe they’re not together at all.”

“When have you ever known either of them to be that close with each other as they are with us? Rossi, have you ever seen the inside of Hotch’s house?”

“Not for a while, no. Why, have you ever seen hers?”

Emily shook her head. 

“Penelope, can you find out anything?” Morgan asked, turning to his best girl. 

“I can but it would completely wreck my moral standing.”

“You’ve never run a background check on us?” JJ asked. 

“No! That would be an invasion of your privacy. And theirs! If they are a..them, I suppose. Or maybe not. Maybe she is just a single mother and Hotch has decided to help her. He was the first to find out.”

“See, another thing!” Emily pointed out. 

“But Hotch is the first to know everything about us. He’s the main person we have to tell when it comes to personal things that could affect our work.” Morgan explained. 

“But why not come to one of us?” Rossi asked. “JJ, what do you think? Out of us, who would you have come to?”

JJ thought for a moment. “Out of you boys? Probably…Hotch.”

“Really?” Rossi asked. 

“Why not me?” Morgan asked. 

“Or me?” Reid finished. 

JJ smiled. “You know I love you all equally, but out of Three Divorces, Pretty Boy and Chocolate Thunder, I’d want to tell someone I know to be calm. That could remain level headed.”

“And we’re not level headed?” Morgan asked, causing JJ to look up above her shoulder. 

“What did you do when I told you I was pregnant?”

Morgan paused for a second. “You may have a point.”

“Either way, we can’t know for certain that they’re having a baby together.” Reid pointed out. 

“Well, she’s married. Or engaged, at least.”

They all turned to Emily. 

“How do you know that?”

“Her wedding finger. Last time she came back from AL she had a tan line. It was faint, but it was there.”

“Maybe he ran off? They got pregnant but he didn’t want to be in the picture?”

Penelope scoffed. “What a jerk.”

“I don’t think they’d appreciate us speculating like this.”

“JJ’s right. Maybe they’re just friends and Hotch is helping her out. Garcia, have you heard from them yet?”

“Not yet, Sir.”

Meanwhile, at the hospital, the midwife was instructing Aaron to get behind you, holding you up and holding your hands and you continued to push. 

“I don’t think I can do it.”

“Yes, you can. Yes, you can. Come on, honey. I know you can.”

“Can’t you do it for me?”

Aaron chuckled. “I wish I could, but I can’t.”

“Just a couple more pushes, Mrs Hotchner.”

Another wave of contractions hit and you continued to push for another fifteen minutes before finally everyone in the room heard the cries of your baby. 

“You did it, honey. I’m so proud of you. You did it.”

“Is she okay? What-Where is she?”

Aaron smiled, tears in his eyes, pushing the hair out of your own. “She’s-She’s okay. Look, the midwife is just wrapping them up.”

A few moments later, the midwife handed you your baby. 

Two days later they discharged you from the hospital and the first stop made was at the office considering the last of your things had been left there when you went into labour. 

And it also meant the team could finally greet your baby. 

“Ooh, ooh, they’re here. They’re here.”

Penelope was the first to spot you and Hotch standing in his office and it wasn’t long before they were all standing outside. 

However, as the congratulations and praise was made, Penelope’s voice dropped an octave after she got a clear look of the baby. 

“Oh my god.”

“What is it, Garcia?”

“Ohh, ohh, ohh my goodness.”

But you could only smile. 

“You!” Penelope pointed before turning to look at Hotch. “And you! Oh my god! You are!”

You looked behind you, finding your husband standing closer to you than when the team had first walked inside. 

“Are what? Baby girl, what’s-”

And then it clicked. 

With all of them. 

And for a moment they were all stunned into complete silence. 

“Aaron…why didn’t you…”

“Tell you?” Hotch asked, finishing Rossi’s question.

“Truthfully, we kinda maybe wanted to see how long it would take you all to figure out.” You explained. 

“But…how?!” JJ asked. 

You just shrugged. 

“Hints were there if you looked for them.” Aaron said. 

“Hints were- Oh, so, now he tells us. How long?”

“Four years.” You both answered. 

“Four years?!” They all half shouted, quickly remembering there was an infant present. 

“Wait.” Penelope said, holding up her hands. “Oh my god, it’s all coming together. This must be how Sherlock Holmes feels when he cracks a case.”

Both yourself and Aaron smiled before looking down at the sleeping baby in your arms. 

“The weekends away, the lunch orders, the arrive at work together. Oh my god! The touching.” Penelope hit Emily and Derek’s arm. 

“Ow!” They both called. 

“How could you two not have noticed this?!”

“You didn’t notice either!” Emily replied, rubbing her arm. 

“Baby girl, they kept this from us for four years. Why aren’t you hitting them?”

“Because,” Penelope explained. “She had just had a beautiful baby girl. And Hotch is my boss.”

“Can you ever find a way to forgive us?”

They all looked at each other before seemingly coming to the same conclusion. “Fine. But, only if you tell us how it happened and when. And, if you have a wedding re-do so that we all get to attend.”

Both you and Aaron looked at each other. 

“That could work.”

“Great! Now, let me see this beautiful baby girl.” Penelope said, her voice once again chipper, as she came to your side. 

“My goodness, she’s beautiful. Hotch, she looks just like you.”

Aaron smiled at the compliment, but shook his head. “No, that’s all her mom.”

“Oh-ho,” Rossi laughed a little. “She is going to be running rings around us all soon enough.”

Four weeks later, each member of the team turned up together on different days, listening to the story of your relationship. First were the girls and Reid before JJ showed up with Morgan and Rossi. JJ was there to drop some items off that both yourself and Hotch would find useful with the nursery but she didn’t mind hearing the story a second time. 

Eight weeks after you had given birth, your doorbell rang and just as Aaron opened up the front door, Penelope and Rossi walked inside carrying boxes of items before directing the rest of the team through your home into the garden. 

“Dave, what’s going on?”

“You, my dear friend, are getting married.”

“We’re already married.” You said with a small laugh, walking to stand beside your husband. 

Dave nodded. “That you are, but today, you are both getting remarried. You did promise us.”

“We did promise them.” Aaron said, turning to look at you. 

“We did, didn’t we?”

Dave smiled. “So, Uncle Reid is going to be looking after this little one.”

You carefully handed your baby girl to Spencer as Dave continued to explain. 

“Whilst the girls help you get ready and I enlist your help,” Rossi turned to look at Hotch. “To help finish the set up.”

Penelope appeared from down the hallway. “Come on, Emily is finishing setting everything up.”

“I guess I’ll see you at the wedding?”

“I’ll be the one in white.”

Aaron smiled before kissing you quickly as barely a second later Penelope was dragging you upstairs. 

That night was filled with joy, laughter and happiness. Yourself and Aaron shared another set of marriage vows in front of the team. You shared a second first dance, a second first kiss and a first family dance. 

It was a quiet moment on the corner of the dance floor. You were swaying with your baby, softly, in your arms when you felt a familiar pair of arms wrap around your waist from behind and a familiar pair of lips kiss your shoulder. 

Turning around you, Aaron held both of you close. Your forehead against his and your eyes closed, his fingers traced patterns against your arms back and forth before down your side and to your hips where he pulled you in a little closer. 

Neither of you knew it until a week later, but Morgan had, with Emily’s help, caught everything on camera. And with help from Penelope, a second wedding video had been made. 

Capturing the full length of your first family dance together.

[enderlovez]

Late-Night Genius

Spencer Reid x Female BAU Reader WORD COUNT: 1500+

Summary: During a late night in the BAU, reader finds Spencer hunched over his desk muttering to himself about the deranged killer on the loose, and decides that in the midst of all this carnage, he needs someone to look after him, too.

Content Warning: mentions of death, mutilation of the human body, blood and murder, pocket knife used as a murder weapon, intentional sleep deprivation, strangulation, overworking yourself

────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ──────

Nine people are already dead, and nobody has a single piece of useful information on the unsub, only that they are — possibly, not definitely — an old white man, which sums up half the human population.

Most of the team, including yourself, have been staying in the office until stupid hours of the morning recently, to try and figure out what you're missing before this mysterious killer takes another victim.

Some believe he's already done so, but the bodies are still unfound.

There are no connections between the victims, except for the fact that each of them are from out of town, but each of them were killed in similar fashions — strangled with a noose made of fishing line, then their throats jaggedly sliced open post-mortem.

All of them were also missing both hands and both feet, hacked off poorly by a pocket knife found near the crime scene. That, however, was not post-mortem, meaning that these poor people were mutilated while still alive, possibly fully aware of what was happening.

It should be impossible that the unsub left no trace with something such as this, but here you are, struggling in the behavioral analysis unit at two in the bloody morning, to come up with what should be the most basic details.

You sigh dejectedly as you relax into your chair, pressing your palm into your nose with a little more force than necessary and tiredly rubbing your shut eyes with your thumb and pointer finger.

Right now, you think you'd do just about anything to be back home in bed — not that you technically can't go home, you're free to go home anytime you please as long as you're back in... later this morning, but you feel an uncomfortable sense of duty to this case.

A sound draws you out of your half-asleep state on the chair, a soft mumbling from the desk adjacent to yours. You begrudgingly peel your eyes open to find Spencer Reid hunched over his desk in a way that definitely can't be good for his back.

His face is twisted up in concentration as his finger runs up and down the page he's reading.

"You're going to give yourself back problems, Spencer," you mumble, using your hands as leverage to push yourself up from your seat. He doesn't look away from the paper in front of him, but hums in acknowledgement, though you're not entirely sure he heard you.

It's probably a really bad idea to be overworking yourself so much, tiring out your body to the point of exhaustion, considering your line of work. But you don't plan on stopping until this killer is behind bars, and apparently as it turns out, neither does Spencer — you can sleep once the risk of another person dying is handled.

With another near-silent sigh, rubbing your hands over your face once more, you grab a few things out of your bag and start making your way towards the exit.

Spencer doesn't ask where you're going, but you feel the need to specify anyway, albeit vaguely.

"I'm heading out for a bit," you whisper over your shoulder, waving your hand around limply. Realistically, you know you should head home like Hotch suggested, catch some sleep before you're back at work, but you just... can't. Exhausted as you may be, you don't think you could sleep even if you tried.

The cool early-morning air against your skin soothes the heat lingering just beneath as you slowly trudge towards your car, hopping into the drivers seat and pulling away from the building. You shouldn't be driving in this state, but you desperately need something to eat.

If Spencer were here, he'd be telling you all about how many people die while driving tired. Probably lightly scold you and insist on driving, even though he's just as, if not more tired than you are.

You're only half-aware as the car takes you away from the building, mind zeroing in on the music playing quietly over the radio. Boring, not something you would ever listen to on your own.

It's a miracle that you're able to reach your destination without getting pulled over — a little twenty-four hour café you frequently visit. Granted, it's usually at more appropriate hours of the morning.

The girl behind the counter looks bored and tired, just over everything and likely wanting to be at home in bed, much like you. As you shuffle up to the register and see her smile falter, you feel pity.

Poor girl probably doesn't get paid enough for this.

"Hello, welcome to Pine and Pastry," she says in a flat voice. "What can I get for you this morning?"

"Hi there, Caroline," you whisper, eyes halfway shut. For a moment she looks surprised that you know her name, before you point to the nametag pinned to her apron.

She writes down your order in sloppy handwriting as you speak — a plain black coffee with a crap ton of sugar for Spencer, and a hazelnut latte for yourself, along with some extra espresso shots in a cup just in case. You also get a couple of breakfast bagels and a box of cinnamon rolls.

It takes her maybe ten minutes to get everything ready, making the coffee, and even going the extra mile to warm up the cinnamon rolls.

"Your total is $34.79," she says, rubbing her eyes with one hand as you place a fifty dollar bill into her other, murmuring a quiet 'keep the change' and grabbing a handful of sugar packets before collecting your things and stepping back outside.

The drive back to work is easier, you're more aware of your surroundings now that you've been off your ass for a little while.

"You're back," Spencer comments softly as you walk back into the office, though he doesn't even look up from the page — a different one than before, but still one he's looked over hundreds of times.

"I'm back," you agree as you set everything down on your desk. He glances up at you once as you place the coffee and breakfast bagel on his side. "I got you some coffee and something to eat."

He watches you for a second before offering a quiet 'thank you', picking up the bagel and taking a bite out of it — still hunched over.

Spencer's eyes widen when you're suddenly beside him, ushering him out of that horrid position and into a chair, holding him up straight for a moment before returning to your own desk.

"You need to take better care of yourself, Spence," you demand softly, looking down at your own files, fully aware of how intently he's staring at you. "It's bad enough that we're keeping ourselves awake at all hours of the night and into the morning, you can't just not eat."

If you're being honest, you've always had a bit of a thing for the genius boy, so seeing him doing so... not well upsets you a lot little.

A small smile appears on his lips as he takes a sip of his coffee. "You already take such good care of me, though," he snipes back playfully, eyes narrowing suspiciously. "You really shouldn't drive while this tired, it can actually be worse than—"

"—Worse than driving intoxicated, I know, Spence," you finish for him, rolling your eyes and taking a bite of your own bagel. "I think Hotch might put us on mandatory rest, if we don't get some sleep soon."

Spencer hums in agreement, looking back to the files on the desk in front of him, making a sudden thought spark in your mind.

He doesn't look at you as you stand up again, rounding the desks so you're back on his side, but he does give you a side-eye when you place your hands on his shoulders and start pushing his head down towards the desk.

"What are you doing?" he asks, though he doesn't make any moves to stop your ministrations, folding his arms on the hard surface and letting the side of his head rest atop them.

"You've been working so hard," you whisper soothingly, gently squeezing his shoulders in what you hope is a comforting gesture, "just give your mind a minute to rest — and I know you'll say you don't need it, but maybe it'll help you think better."

He bites his bottom lip a little before giving in, letting his eyes close. "Maybe if it's just a minute," he agrees quietly, voice already drifting off into silence. He's out like a light before he can stop it.

With a small, tender smile on your face, you use your finger to brush some of his hair out of his face and let your thumb briefly stroke over his temple.

He's so absolutely, heartbreakingly adorable when he's sleeping, you realize, heart stuttering and eyes watering at the sight before you. His face is no longer twisted in concentration, rather soft and peaceful.

Just because you're tired, doesn't mean poor Spencer needs to be, not if you have any say in the matter.

He might be slightly upset with you when he wakes up, even if it's only brief, but all of that's fine if it means he'll get at least a little bit of sleep.

Humming a quiet little tune to yourself, you return to your desk and continue your work where you left off.

[0stargirl0]

Guys his necklace is rumple buttercup

[sunsherbet]

Got Milk?

In which you ask your neighbor to borrow a glass of milk for a recipe.

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

CW: None

You wish you could say this was a first for you.

That deep down you were some uber-responsible twenty-something who made their grocery list and checked it twice, but you weren’t. This was the third time this week you’d forgotten something from the grocery store and only realized when it was that exact ingredient your recipe depended on.

It wasn’t even like you cooked often. You were a habitual air-fryer indulger whose culinary portfolio consisted of elevated cup ramen and just-add-water pancakes. 

But your sister was coming over, and you wanted to surprise her with her favorite chili oil pappardelle pasta. Hence, you needed a few more ingredients than your usual frozen dinners required, one of which was milk—an ingredient you realized, as you looked in your fridge, you were completely out of.

The minute hand ticked loudly, and your head snapped up to glance at the cupcake-shaped clock, which was slowly approaching 8:30—giving you less than an hour to finish your meal.

With time counting down, you had two choices for getting the milk: First, you could run down to the corner store and hope the creepy cashier wasn’t working tonight. That normally wouldn’t have been a massive concern, but it was winter, which meant it was dark outside already. And honestly, your sister's pasta just wasn’t worth the risk of dealing with someone who gave you the shivers. That left you with the second choice: flashing your best smile and begging your neighbors for a cup.

To the right of your apartment were Mrs. Hyde and her wife—two sweet old ladies who smelled like vintage perfume and flabby wine. Unfortunately, they went to bed at 7 p.m., so that was out. On the left were Mikael and his daughter Erin, but you two never quite got along, so that wasn’t an option either. Which left the one who lived across the hallway. He was supposedly a 'charming young chap' (according to the Hydes) and had lived there longer than you, but you’d never seen him.

Six months ago, when you first moved in, you’d baked some muffins and left them at his doorstep, but you’d forgotten to write a note and had been too embarrassed to try another introduction. So, this would be your first encounter with him. But it was an emergency, you swear! Otherwise, you wouldn't be bothering him with your trivial milk problems (even though they weren’t so trivial—after all, you'd already started the noodles and needed the cream base. Fast).

You grab a pair of neon Crocs, their bright contrast to your wine-red dress a jarring reminder of your frantic state, and rush out of your apartment, making sure to turn off the boiling water and secure the lid.

When you reach the door, you’re not sure why your heart is pounding in your chest or why your arms are covered in goosebumps. It’s probably just the nerves of meeting someone new, you decide, shaking yourself a little to readjust.

You curl your fingers to tap against the door, but just before your knuckles rap against the sturdy wood, it swings open. Standing in the frame is a tall guy with wire-frame glasses. He’s got a slimmer frame than his baggy plaid shirt can fill out, and a brown cardigan button-up rests just above his slacks. His bronze-like hair and matching doe eyes give you a not-so-subtle once-over, full of curiosity.

You jump in surprise, balancing yourself on the tacky wallpaper of the hallway. He quirks an eyebrow in a way that’s frankly adorable but you’re just a bit too stunned to fully appreciate just how attractive your neighbor happens to be.

“Can I help you?” 

“Uh, yeah, do you happen to have any milk?” 

He quirks his eyebrow again and this time you take note of the way his hair flops in front of it, “Yeah just not like grain or anything.”

You wave a hand in front of your face and shake your head, "Oh don't worry I'm not a hipster or lactose intolerant." The joke is rewarded with a small chuckle and you quickly decide it’s endearing. Dropping your hand from in front of him you stick it out, “Uh I’m your neighbor by the way. Not some random looking for milk handouts.” 

“I’m Spencer.” He provides, though he lets your hand hang between the two of you awkwardly, "Did you know the number of pathogens passed during a handshake is staggering? It's actually safer to kiss."

Dropping your hand to your side you pucker your lips dramatically, and tease, “Are you asking for a kiss?” 

“W-What? No!” He leans back and you erupt into a giggle, shaking your head at his grimace.

“Well if you don’t want a kiss do you mind if I get that milk?”

“Yeah, of course, I can help you with your..?" He trails off, seemingly not knowing what to call your predicament.

But you certainly know what it should be called, and answer without hesitation, "My life or death dilemma? The reason for my current milk escapades."

Spencer seems to relax a bit more at your rambling, his posture less stiff and more calm, "Hm, seems like it's pretty important." He quirks an eyebrow, leaning against the door frame.

"Well, I did say life or death didn't I.” You look over at his watch and tap a foot impatiently, "Hey um I'm kinda in a rush, my sister is coming over and I'm not even half done with the stupid sauce. Though in my defense, I didn't know she was coming until like a week ago and I'm an avid cereal eater so the likelihood of me even having milk when she came over is slim to none - but I took the risk and now I'm milkless and totally screwed because cooking is hard and god I think I burnt the noodles for this stupid chili oil pappardelle pasta-which by the way I don’t even know how to make." 

Spencer is biting his cheek because he can’t laugh. He can’t laugh because it’s rude to laugh at someone he’s only just met, even if you’re blabbering and blushing and wearing adorable chartreuse platform Crocs. 

When you moved in across the hallway, Spencer Reid had admittedly looked into you. It wasn’t that he meant to be intrusive—it was just in his nature. He’d always been wary of new people, especially given his line of work. So when the long-vacant apartment finally filled and the scent of Yankee Candles began to waft through the hall, he might have asked Penelope to do a little digging.

Though her extensive report didn’t do justice to the person standing in front of him now. 

"Oh my god, you're laughing!" You exclaim, positively mortified at his audacity to laugh at you in this time of need.

"Sorry! Sorry!" He catches his breath after a moment and licks his lips with a flick of his tongue, "Maybe I can make it up to you?"

You smile but your foot is still tapping, "Do tell."

“While I’ve admittedly never made chili oil pappardelle pasta I’m quite quick to pick things up. If you need any help I could-?”

"Oh please thank you!" Letting out a sigh of relief you go to grab his hand, only pulling back when you remember his tangent about germs,  "She'll be here in thirty minutes so we have to hurry."

"Okay, let me go get the milk, and uh we can start."

"Thank you, Spencer.”

"Oh ... you're welcome."

You don’t notice the blush.

[velvetwilde]

I WANNA SQUEEZE HIS CHEEKS, KISS HIS PRETTY NOSE AND KISS HIM TILL HE BEGS ME TO STOP, UGHHHHH

[cumulo-stratus]

Guys look they're literally besties

[strawberrysands]

Spencer Reid x reader: caught

Spencer Reid x reader

Word count: 900, short but sweet

Warnings: talk of sexy times, a little bit of kissy kissy, Hotch being a proud but stern dad ok ok that’s it I think

Summary: You and Spencer have been keeping your relationship secret, and getting caught leads to an…interesting conversation.

You groaned and put the pen down on the case file in front of you. You and Spencer found yourselves alone in the conference room and you had been cranky all morning. The reason for that was simple: Spencer had gotten up before you, to arrive at the office at a different time, so you hadn’t gotten a good morning kiss from him.

Spencer didn’t look up from his work, but asked: “Are you okay?”

You huffed. “No, I am not.”

This made Spencer look up from his work with a frown. The concerned look in his eyes made your heart melt instantly. “What’s wrong?”

You pouted. “You didn’t give me a kiss this morning.”

Spencer’s expression softened. He looked at you with a mixture of adoration and amusement. “Aww, is someone cranky because she didn’t get a kiss?”

You playfully glare at him. “Shut up.”

Spencer shook his head with a smile. “I’ll make it up to you.” He promised, and your stomach did a flip.

However, that did little to ease your current grumpiness. “I just- really, really, want to kiss you right now.” You admitted.

Spencer’s eyes darted around the room, and even though they were alone, anyone could come in at any given time. “Here?”

You pouted once more. “Please?” You asked and gave him your best puppy eyes.

Spencer sighed and the hint of a smile formed on his face; he knew he couldn’t say no to you. He stood up and made his way over to you. “Alright.  Now come here.”

You happily got up and circled your arms around his neck. With that smile still on your face, you pressed your lips against his.

Spencer chuckled softly against your mouth and moved his hands to your waist to hold you closer. You let yourself get lost in the kiss, moving your lips leisurely against his, and opening your mouth so his tongue could-

Suddenly, you heard footsteps approaching. Quickly, you and Spencer jumped apart to put a socially acceptable distance between the two of you. You quickly sat back down and put a file in front of your face, to hide it from whoever was approaching. Spencer did the same, only just managing to sit back down when the person came in.

It was Hotch. He looked between the two of you suspiciously, one eyebrow raised. “Did I interrupt something?”

You cleared your throat and held the file up a little higher, completely blocking Hotch from your view.

“No.” You and Spencer quickly said in unison, your voice a little higher than it normally was.

“You know,” he started, “you haven’t exactly been subtle the past three years.”

Spencer’s face flushed. “I- what- do you mean by that?” he asked innocently.

Hotch gave him a ‘are you serious’ look and continued. “The glances, the smiles, the touches. I’ve known since day one.”  He looked between the two of you once more.

“Besides, hotel walls on cases aren’t exactly- thin.”

You felt mortified when he said that. You wanted the ground to open up and swallow you whole. You slowly lowered the file and looked at Hotch sheepishly. “I- uh-” You stammered.

Hotch gave the both of you a stern look. “Do I need to have the talk with you?”

Both yours and Spencer’s eyes widened. Spencer shook his head quickly. “No, sir, we know perfectly well how to- uhm-”

It was only then that Hotch’s face turned into a small smile. “Oh, trust me, I know that you know.”

You groaned and buried your head in your hands. “Please- let’s- stop talking about this.”

Hotch steered his expression back into a neutral one as he continued. “You know, I got an email from a hotel in Florida after a case, with the costs, and the damages.”

Now it was Spencer’s time to look mortified. You and Spencer had been busy doing- activities- which resulted in a broken bed.

“I- sir- the bed was already- unstable-” Spencer tried.

Hotch raised his eyebrows. “You chucked the broken pieces out the window?”

Spencer’s face flushed crimson, and you cringed in your seat. “I- we didn’t have many other options- let’s just forget about Florida. Please?” You pleaded, looking at Hotch with a desperate expression.

Hotch smirked. Actually smirked. “It’s good blackmailing material.”

Your mouth dropped open, you hadn’t expected the stoic, stern Hotch to ever say something like that.  

But Hotch wasn’t done. A small smile formed on his lips. “Besides, you two look like flustered teenagers. It’s hard not to tease you about it.”

Spencer hid his face in the file before him, no doubt beet-red right now.

Hotch’s face softened. “I’m happy for you.”

 Then, his face returned to the stern, stoic one. “Just- maybe, don’t indulge in certain activities when we’re out on a case. And” he paused, “I’m not ever forgetting Florida.”

“How about we don’t use mine and Spencer’s sex life for entertainment?” You pleaded. Unbeknownst to you, the rest of the team had been making their way to the conference room as well. Suddenly, you heard Mogan’s voice, and you could just tell there would be a smirk on his face if you turned around.

“Yours and Reid’s what now?”

[jsmainblog]

Hii, I had an idea for something from Spencer x Fem Reader. where she is one of the youngest on the team, along with Spencer, they are a couple and she has a daughter-father relationship with Aaron. She always plays different board games with Hii, I had an idea for something from Spencer x Fem Reader. where she is one of the youngest on the team, along with Spencer, they are a couple and she has a daughter-father relationship with Aaron. She always plays different board games with him, and he always beats him, she always blames him with Aaron, and one day when they were playing chess she beats him. She gets very happy and celebrates about it, and when everyone gets off the plane Aaron says something like 'you let her win right?' and Spencer responds 'yes, but look at her, she looks so happy'.

Bragging Rights °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

a/n: yeah sure thing that sounds so cute!!! i hope this is kinda along the lines of what you wanted!!!!! I'm sorry if this is kinda bad :((

The case had been a gruelling one which kept many BAU members under stress. You had been stressed out for the past week working on the case putting your all into find the unsub. Everyone could see it, even Hotch who asked if you were going okay and if you needed a break he would be happy to give you one so your mind could take a break. Many members had felt worried about you including your boyfriend Spencer Reid.

When you got onto the jet it seemed like a physical weight had been lifted from your shoulders. It had been such a stressful week all you wanted to do was get home, take a hot shower and unwind on the couch with a hot cup of tea. Hotch came and placed a paternal hand on your shoulder as he walked past, providing a subtle comfort for you. You smiled up at him as he mouthed "you good?" earning him a nod from you. Spencer sat down across from you smiling.

"Hey angel up for some more chess? Maybe you could actually beat me this time who knows?" he teases

"Oh I'm defeintly going to beat you"

"Yeah but last time you said that you lost same with the time before that and the time before that and so on and so forth. But who knows maybe the tables will turn." he says

The game played out. As usual he always let you have the white side so you go first. This game was different though, it looked like you might...win?

When you finally squandered Spencer's king you let out a triumphant cheer. JJ leaned over and highfived you.

"That's the first time anyones won against Spence, good job!!" she cheers before shooting a knowing look towards Spencer who raised his hands in a playful surrender.

"Well looks like the student becomes the master. Good job baby." he says gently leaning over to peck your lips which you met in enthusiasm. You were clapped on the back by Hotch afterwards who congratulated you.

"Good job y/n. I'm proud of you." he murmurs before looking at Reid with a questioning look before smiling to himself.

"So do I have bragging rights now?" you question playfully to which Spencer rolls his eyes.

"Yes my lovely you do."

"Yay!!!"

When the plane finally lands Spencer lets you go ahead as you excitedly chat to Garcia.

"You let her win right?" Hotch says coming up behind him making Spencer jump a little

"Hm?" he hums

"Y/n. You let her win at chest right?"

"Yeah..But look at her she looks so happy and she needed this especially after the last case." Spencer murmurs.

Hotch and Spencer smile both gazing at you with affection as you cross the tarmac.

"I love her." Spencer blurts which earns Hotch's attention.

"I know you do."

[imreidswifey]

In the Quiet Hours -fluff- (S.R)

Summary: After a petty argument escalates, you and Spencer Reid find yourselves stubbornly sleeping apart for the night. While you struggle to find comfort on the couch, Spencer wrestles with his guilt upstairs.

A/n: This was so fun to write, If you have a request please message me! (I have not gotten one yet and Im running out of ideas)

Warnings:

Minor angst stemming from an argument.

Themes of miscommunication and emotional vulnerability.

Brief mention of sleeplessness and feelings of isolation.

Fluff and reconciliation.

———————————————————————————-

The argument had been ridiculous—one of those petty, pointless spats that escalated faster than it should have. You weren’t even sure why it had started. Something about the way Spencer corrected you during dinner, a habit of his that usually made you smile, but tonight it grated on you. You’d snapped at him, and he’d snapped back, his tone sharper than usual. Before either of you realized it, the air was thick with tension, both of you too stubborn to step back.

By the time you stalked off to the living room, clutching a blanket and muttering about needing space, you were seething. Spencer had called out your name, but his plea went unanswered. You’d settled on the couch, wrapping the blanket tightly around you like armor, determined to let him stew upstairs.

But hours later, as you tossed and turned, your resolve was wearing thin. The couch was miserable—hard cushions and no support. The blanket was too short, leaving your feet cold. And worst of all, you missed Spencer. The way his hand always sought yours in the dark, his steady breathing against your back, the way his presence filled every corner of your world without him even trying. But no, you thought stubbornly, dragging the blanket higher. You weren’t going to march upstairs and give him the satisfaction of thinking he’d won.

Upstairs, Spencer lay on his side, staring at the empty space where you should have been. He hated himself for snapping at you, hated that he’d let his frustration over something so meaningless spiral into this. He’d replayed the argument in his mind a dozen times, dissecting every word, trying to understand why he hadn’t just let it go. But what he hated most was the silence.

Without you, the house felt too big, too quiet. He missed your laugh, the sound of your voice, the way you filled every space with warmth. The bed was cold, and sleep felt impossible without the comfort of you tucked into his side.

By the time he finally got up, the clock on the nightstand read 3:47 a.m. He padded downstairs, finding you curled up on the couch, your face half-buried in the pillow. For a moment, he just stood there, taking in the rise and fall of your breathing, the way the soft light from the streetlamp outside fell over your face. He wanted to say something, but instead, he moved closer, lowering himself onto the couch beside you.

The sudden dip of the cushions startled you awake, and you blinked groggily, turning to see Spencer. His hair was mussed, his tie gone, and his sweater vest wrinkled from hours of restless tossing.

“Spencer?” Your voice was thick with sleep, but there was no mistaking the edge of surprise.

He didn’t say anything at first, just reached out to tuck the blanket more securely around you. Then he leaned down, letting his forehead rest against yours, his voice a soft murmur. “I couldn’t sleep without you.”

You wanted to stay mad, to hold onto the stubbornness that had kept you on the couch all night. But the way he looked at you, his hazel eyes filled with quiet vulnerability, made it impossible.

“You don’t get to just come down here and—” You stopped, your voice catching as his hand found yours.

“I know,” he said quietly, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “I messed up. I should’ve just apologized earlier instead of letting this… whatever this is, get between us.” He gave a small, self-deprecating smile. “I don’t care if you think I’m wrong about dinner trivia or the population of ancient Rome. I just care about you.”

You blinked, surprised by the sudden lump in your throat. “You didn’t have to come down here.”

“Yes, I did,” he said firmly, shifting to lie down beside you. His arm slipped around your waist, pulling you against him. “Because I hate being apart from you. Even when we’re mad, I still need you next to me.”

The warmth of his confession melted the last of your resistance. You let out a soft sigh, resting your head against his chest as his fingers traced gentle patterns along your arm.

“We’re still going to argue about this in the morning,” you said, your voice muffled against him.

“I know,” he replied with a small laugh, pressing a kiss to your hair. “But at least we’ll do it after a few hours of sleep.”

You smiled despite yourself, letting his steady heartbeat lull you back to sleep. The argument didn’t matter anymore, not really. What mattered was this—the quiet understanding that, no matter what, you always found your way back to each other.

[piqtescue]

this photo is rewiring my brain

[spencerreiddddd]

Hyper fixation

Soooo this is the first request I do and hopefully it lives up to your expectations!

Hope you like it @ilovethepipecleaner

You walked into the BAU with your tote bag hanging on your shoulder adorned with multiple little bear key chains.

“Pretty girl you made it early today.” Morgan called out to you from the small kitchen as you made your way to your desk.

You turned to look at him a smile spreading on your face. “Well my coffee shop was closed so I guess it’s BAU coffee today.” You say making a disgusted face causing Morgan to laugh.

Turning around to look at your desk a small bear key chain catches your attention, it had a sticky note placed next to it.

“Congrats on passing your gun exam.

-Yours Spencer.”

A smile spread across your lips as you picked up the small bear and examined it.

The bear was pink your favorite color, it had a FBI vest on and a gun holstered to its side. With your initials in graved on the bottom of the bears right foot.

A small shocked chuckle escaped your lips as you looked at the adorable bear in your hands.

“Do you like it?” A voice came from behind you in a timid manner turning around to see Spencer your smiled grew impossibly larger.

“Like it? I love it Spence!” You said practically jumping into his arms as you wrapped your arms around his neck. His hands immediately finding your waist.

“I love it, thank you Spence. I love you so much!” You say in his ear as you back away from his and turn your attention back to the small bear in your hands, missing the way Spencer’s face turned unbelievably red at your words… more specifically the last five words.

“This is going to my collection.” You say clipping the small bear to your tote bag to join all the other little bears dangling on there.

“How did you even find one like this?” You ask turning your attention back to Spencer, he smiled shyly. “I had it custom made.” He said looking into your eyes for a reaction.

“No way, you had it custom made just because I passed my gun exam?” You say astonished.

“Truthfully, I had it made before I knew you had passed it.” He said scratching his head, you looked at him with disbelief.

“Spence what if I hadn’t passed my test?” You say curiously.

He shook his head. “Not possible, your better with that gun out of all of us.” He said teasing.

You laugh and smile giddily. “Nice to know you have one hundred percent faith in me.”

“Oh yeah one hundred percent always.” He says looking at you with big puppy eyes you feel like you can drown in.

You stand there smiling at each other, for what didn’t feel long until a voice startled Spencer and you out of the trance with each other.

“Hey get a room, im just trying to drink my coffee in peace.” Morgan says leaning back on the counter coffee in one hand and the other crossed over his chest.

Spencer chuckled retreating back to his desk as he looked back at you a flashed you a toothy grin.

You smiled brightly at him as a feeling pooled in your stomach, it was warm and it made you feel happy. Something changed right there and then on how you viewed Spencer.

Thank you for reading! This was so much fun to write, I will be taking more requests if anyone wants to message me!

[anothermansjeans]

ok but I just know someone in the youtube!reader universe has made a compilation of both reader and Spencer roasting each other and also of how many times Spencer says hey 😭

I LOVE THIS AHSHDND this isn't a real blurb but i threw together some of their roasts + a couple new ones!

cw: just my two loves roasting each other 🫶

wc: 392

youtuber!reader masterlist

++

Video Title: 3 Minutes of Y/N and Spencer Roasting Each Other (lovingly?)

Clips from Y/N’s makeup voiceover:

“It looks like Y/N is putting sunblock all over her face. She’s not putting on the recommended amount which is about ¼ teaspoon. Many dermatologists recommend the ‘three finger rule’ when applying so that you know you’ve used enough.”

…

“She’s now putting concealer under her eyes and on red spots. I believe this is for color correction, but she should be using a shade of green to neutralize the red and then put concealer or foundation on.”

…

“Right! Okay, now she's using foundation. This shade looks to be a shade too dark though. Y/N, did you run out of your winter shade?”

…

“...She told me this helps her makeup stay on all day, but her skin produces oils throughout the day so it's likely this really only works for a couple of hours at most.”

++

Clips from Y/N’s skincare routine:

“Well,” he began, looking back at the cameras and talking with his hands, “Sometimes, if I feel as though my pores had excreted more oil than normal and Y/N’s face wash is out, I'd use that, but more times than not, she's in bed before me so I’ll just use water.”

A pout formed on your face as you looked at the camera. “Terrible, I know.”

++

Random clips from Y/N’s TikToks:

Spencer was walking by Y/N doing a yoga session as he said, “your form is wrong. You’ll be complaining about your back aching later and we now know it isn't from your posture while editing.”

…

Y/N was currently on a live, walking into their kitchen when she made a face, “Spencer and I should be looking into pest control here– it smells like something died–”

“That’s the food. I’m making dinner…”

Y/N looked up at him with wide eyes, “Sorry, babe.”

…

Y/N set up a game of “they're a 10, but…” and only described Spencer: “He’s a 10 but he waited to say ‘I love you’ until a month after you said it because he didn't know if he believed you actually meant it.”

“I don't get this game.”

“He’s a 10 but he cut his own hair without telling me and his boss roasted him.”

“I get it now.”

++

youtuber!reader masterlist: @im-a-ghost666 @lyd14k4y @happiestcat @hauntedtv13 @obi-wansgirl @charismatic-writer

let me know if you would like to be added or removed!