#gray fluff

[justauthoring]

your hand feels nice in mine.

requested! -> hii loved your natsu fic! 🤭 i’m glad that fairy tail content is coming back. i wanna request something similar w gray.. maybe it’s a hot day n he helps reader

a/n -> honestly it was not my intention to write for fairy tail today... but writing that natsu drabble was so fun and i can't help it im in a fair tail mood lol. also, for the sake of it, let's pretty juvia hasn't joined the guild yet okay?

pairing -> gray fullbuster x f!reader

it was far too hot.

ridiculously hot.

really, it shouldn't even be humanely possible for it to be this hot. hot enough that you were sweating profusely, it building up on your forehead and leaving you feeling gross and sticky. you were thirsty and your movements felt luggish, as if you might just pass out on the spot.

clearly, the universe had something against you because this was starting to feel like a personal attack.

your eyes flicker to your teammate who seems all too unaffected by the heat; which, yes, to be fair was to be expected. gray was an ice wizard and you knew he ran cold, so obviously this heat wasn't impacting him as much. he looked somewhat warm, you guessed, a small build up of sweat lining his forehead.

but he wasn't dragging his feet and he didn't look flushed or uncomfortable. nothing like you at least.

walking ahead of you, gray looks perfectly fine which, unfortunately, is just irritating you more. how was it fair that he was fine while you were practically dying?

"dumb ice wizard with your stupid ice powers and cooling abilities," you mumble to yourself, grouchy and annoyed.

you just wanted this mission to be over but it was looking like you were going to be stuck on this island for a while longer if the fact that you guys hadn't even found your clients target yet was anything to go by. the rest of team natsu had split up in search of them; natsu and happy with lucy and erza with carla and wendy.

which left you with the stupid, unbothered and cool gray.

truthfully, you're not even sure how you're going to even be able fight the damn target when you do reach them because it was so hot!

"are you okay?"

if he hadn't spoken, you would've ended up walking right into gray. but his voice is enough to snap you out of your own sulking, blinking as you stop and meet his gaze. his words seem genuine and you're sure he is concerned but the damn smirk on his lips just pisses you off more.

"fine," you reply sharply, turning to walk past him.

gray reaches for you before you can, his hand wrapping around your arm and halting your steps as he pulls you back towards him.

regrettably, even if his cold hand feels soothing on your skin.

"what—"

gray just lets out a chuckle, shifting you so you're stood in front of him before pressing his palm against your forehead. whatever you'd been about to say promptly falls silent the second it does. instantly, a cold, gentle breeze flows over you, enveloping your entire body in a cooling sensation that has your tensed muscles relaxing.

"oh."

"feel better?"

glancing up at gray, you blink at him, dazed. "much," you admit, nodding, "your magic feels so nice."

gray flushes slightly at your words, the compliment making his insides feel funny as he coughs, trying to pretend like that hadn't affected him. "w-well, i'm glad. you looked pretty miserable."

as the feeling floods you, you start to gather your bearings, now just realizing how close you were to gray. his hand was raised, pressed against your forehead, but his other hand still rested on your arm and the two of you were very close.

you feel your cheeks warm as you lower your gaze.

"th-thank you, gray." you mumble, feeling oddly embarrassed even though you can't reason why. gray was your friend and all he was doing was helping you, his friend, cool down in this ridiculous heat.

there was nothing to be embarrassed about.

still, that couldn't explain the flush on both of your cheeks.

"here," gray shifts, moving his hand and you have to resist the urge to moan at the loss of his hand. he lets go of your arm and moves to stand beside you. and, before you can dwell on the disappointment much longer, gray's face is burning and he's promptly turning away from you, avoiding your gaze.

your eyes then lower, seeing his hand held out towards you, palm inviting.

"gray?"

"hold my hand," he explains, muffled as he shoves his face into his coat collar (surprisingly still on). "i'll keep you cool."

the realization dawns on you, eyes widening. "o-oh," you mumble, forcing the words out as you glance at his hand once again. "okay."

slowly, hesitantly, you slip your hand into his, gray easing into the touch as he threads his fingers through your own, and squeezes.

true to his word, he lets his magic slowly seep out, cooling you and enveloping you in a consant cool sensation. but the heat refuses to fade from your cheeks, all the same, as the two of you avoid each others gaze.

"sh-should we get going?"

"ye-yeah."

-

"y/n?"

"hm?"

"why are you holding gray's hand?"

you snap your attention to lucy at her question, eyes then snapping to gray who's staring back at you, and then finally down to your intwined hands.

a second later, the two of you are pulling away.

"no-no reason!"

"nothing!"

lucy just blinks at the two of you, quirking a knowing brow.

"you guys sure?"

you send a lucy a half-hearted glare, knowing what she's insinuating, and given that she knew more than anyone else there, you refused to let her try and egg you on. "of course," you say firmly, and lucy just laughs. "it was just... hot. gray cooled me down."

hands on her hips, lucy snorts; "okay, then." then, stepping back, she shrugs. "i was just curious."

she leaves the two of you alone and both you and gray stand there for a moment, silent, not sure what to say.

then, gray speaks up; "i didn't mind, you know?"

"hm?" you mumble, meeting his eyes. he just gestures to his hand and your lips part. "oh. me... me neither. it... felt nice." then, you move to clarify; "and not just because of your magic."

"that's good," gray nods, flustered. "i'm glad."

"yeah."

"...wanna... hold hands again?"

you let out a breath of relief. "yes."

[zaimta]

Hello! Can i request a fluff gray x reader? Take your time ^^

zai says: some lovely hcs for yew

ˏˋ«────── « 𓆩♡𓆪 » ──────»

despite his cold demeanor, he's actually the sweetest

bonus, if y'all have known each other since you were kids because he would tiptoe around admitting to liking you for the longest cana, would have to beat the sense into him

he would constantly be complimenting you but he would be subtle about it, maybe a quick comment about how you changed your hair, or how nice your outfit looks

he would swear nobody knows but everyone knows, they all see the way he looks at you it's even worse when he's older because everyone knows

he calls you babe, and baby. never calls you baby in front of the guild, he let it slip once during the alverez war, he was trying to talk you out of it because he didn't want you to get hurt and it just slipped out and they never let him live it down

he's always cold to the touch, he constantly wraps his arms around you from behind and puts his hands on your bare stomach to tease you

he's the best to cuddle with on hot summer nights because he's constantly cold y'all won't get sticky and sweaty you can cling to him like a koala and it would be the best because he's so cold

in the winter though? oh he's shit out of luck banished to the other side of the bed and he pouts at you when you don't let him hold you

when you protest he swears he doesn't know what you're talking about when you try to shoo his hands away

he likes to casually throw an arm around your shoulder when the two of you are side by side

he doesn't smoke around you (fun fact he smokes w/ loke in the manga) if you don't like the smell or being around it in general, even if you don't mind him smoking he doesn't do it often because he doesn't wanna smother you with second hand

and speaking of loke, he's one of the few people who can genuinely see how head over heels for you. like beyond the whole having a crush on you thing he teases gray about it from time to time when he visits the human world

you know he loves you when he tells you about ur, and every time he tells you a quick story about her he tells you how much she would love you if y'all met

he loves and hates going on quests with you, he loves them because he knows you're strong and can handle yourself but at the same time he knows he would beat himself up if he ever let anything happen to you

he has no shame when he strips and you're there if you tell him to puts some clothes on he teases you for it and asks if you're enjoying the view

he loves fawning over frosch and if you love him too it's wraps. the two of you love giving him little hugs and cuddles y'all wanna steal him so bad but you know you shouldn't still the urge is still there so rouge better watch his back

absolutely loves kisses on his chest and forehead, he tries to act cool when you hold his face and kiss his forehead but he always ends up leaning into your touch

[flwerie]

𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐋𝐘 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆 . . . BOYFRIEND!GRAY !

BOYFRIEND!GRAY who’s known for his tough exterior, but with you, he can’t help but show a softer side. He often surprises you with small gestures like leaving a note or your favorite snack.

BOYFRIEND!GRAY who’s an ice mage by day, cuddle lover by night. He loves to hold you close, especially after a long day of missions.

BOYFRIEND!GRAY who’s surprisingly good with words when expressing his feelings. He might not say it often, but when he does, it’s heartfelt and sincere.

BOYFRIEND!GRAY who makes ice sculptures as his way of saying “I love you.” You often find beautifully crafted ice roses or hearts waiting for you after a tough day.

BOYFRIEND!GRAY who loves having movie nights with you, and secretly has a soft spot for romantic films. You catch him secretly wiping away a tear during the touching scenes.

BOYFRIEND!GRAY who has a sweet tooth, and he can’t resist your homemade desserts. Baking together becomes a regular, delightful activity.

BOYFRIEND!GRAY who’s protective but not overbearing. He trusts your abilities, but he’s always ready to step in if things get too tough.

BOYFRIEND!GRAY who has late-night talks with you. He opens up about his past, creating a deep bond between you two.

BOYFRIEND!GRAY who’s stoic facade fades away when he’s around you, revealing a warmth and playfulness that not many get to see.

Another Headcanons for you to feast on. Enjoy! <3

[magewritesstories]

just gonna leave this here

[goofygubegubler]

𝑺𝒐𝒓𝒓𝒚 𝒊𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒍 𝒐𝒃𝒋𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒇𝒊𝒆𝒅

Spencer throws out a comment so uncharacteristically bold that even Morgan is speechless.

wc: 768 | F!Reader (established relationship) | cw: VERY suggestive

A/N: I’m honestly blown away by all the love on my first fic—thank you so much! I’ve got more in the works, including blurbs and maybe even a few one-shots. My asks are open, so feel free to send requests or just chat! Hope you enjoy this one—it's short and oh so sweet <3

Your desk was a mess—files spread out, coffee half-drunk, and a notepad filled with half-legible scribbles. Across from you, Spencer was deep in his own pile of paperwork, meticulously writing everything out by hand, as usual. Despite having access to every digital tool imaginable, he still swore by pen and paper, claiming it helped him retain information better. It was kinda endearing, in a stubborn, old-man way.

You were in the middle of reviewing a case file, flipping through pages while absentmindedly tapping your pen against your desk, when you heard Morgan stroll over to Spencer’s desk.

“Come on, pretty boy,” Morgan said, dropping his coffee onto Spencer's desk with a thud. “You mean to tell me you, the guy who once used the word ‘cloacal kiss’ in casual conversation, has nothing to say about his own mating habits?”

Your fingers hovered over your mouse as you scrolled through your playlist on your monitor, hesitating between switching to something instrumental or letting the indie rock keep playing. Oh boy. Here we go.

Spencer barely looked up, flipping a page in his file. “Because, unlike you, I don’t feel the need to turn my personal life into locker room talk.”

Morgan grinned. "I’m just saying, man, if all that reading has you treating sex like a final exam, I got some study guides for you."

Spencer finally lifted his head, blinking at him like he was the dumbest person alive. “Morgan, your definition of 'expertise' is having a lot of experience. Mine is actually understanding the mechanics of what you’re talking about.”

Morgan scoffed. “That’s not even—listen, Savannah and I are solid, okay? And I’m just saying, for a guy who overexplains everything, you sure get real quiet about this topic.”

Spencer gave him a flat look, putting his pen down. "Morgan, sex isn’t complicated. It’s just applied physics with a little bit of chemistry—and if done correctly, some very impressive biology."

JJ, who had apparently been listening in, snorted. "That might be the nerdiest thing you’ve ever said—and that’s saying something."

Morgan threw up his hands. "See? This is what I’m talking about! The man could turn seduction into a science fair project."

Morgan pointed at Spencer, then at you, then back at Spencer, clearly trying to form a comeback. Before he could, Spencer sighed and said, "Morgan, what do you want me to say? Yes, I have sex. Yes, I enjoy it. No, I’m not about to give you a play-by-play."

Morgan opened his mouth, then closed it, then opened it again, searching for something—anything—that wouldn't result in him taking yet another loss. Finally, he let out a deep sigh, grabbed his coffee, and pointed a finger at Spencer. "We're not done."

Spencer just smiled, leaning back slightly in his chair. "Morgan, I hate to break it to you, but we were done the moment you started this conversation."

You were still working, or at least making a half-hearted attempt at it, but you weren’t exactly subtle. Your grip on the pen had tightened, your page-flipping slowed, and the barely-contained smirk on your face was giving you away completely. Spencer noticed—of course, he did. His sharp eyes flicked toward you, and the way his lips curled just slightly told you he knew you were listening.

He tilted his head, eyebrows raised in amusement. "Don’t act like you didn’t hear that."

You huffed, shaking your head as you clicked play on your music.

The first few soft notes of "Juno" by Sabrina Carpenter filtered through your headphones.

But your mind was already elsewhere—lingering on the way Spencer had leaned back so casually, how he hadn’t hesitated once, how damn sure of himself he had been. You bit your lip, heat crawling up your spine. You liked the way he’d said it—like he knew exactly what effect he had on you, and he wasn’t afraid to use it. Like he enjoyed it. Like he was claiming something, not just stating a fact. And that was the part that really got to you. You liked being seen, being wanted, being talked about like you were something worth studying, something worth knowing inside and out.

But you were at work. And work meant focus, control, and professionalism. You exhaled, straightening in your chair and forcing your attention back to the case file in front of you. Even as you tried to push it aside, the heat still curled in your stomach, his voice replaying in your head like a song you couldn’t shake.

And then, as if on cue, Sabrina Carpenter’s voice cut through the moment:

 "Sorry if you feel objectified."

[little-jana]

"Flirt Lines Are Open"

Pairing: Spencer Reid x reader

Genre: fluff

Warnings: use of Y/N, Spencer being a flustered and blushing mess, flirting, teasing from the team

Wordcount: 800

Summary: You work behind the scenes at the BAU. Every time Spencer calls you for information, it turns into a full-blown flirt fest.

You barely looked up from your multiple monitors as your phone buzzed on your desk. Without checking the caller ID, you already knew who it was.

You grinned, adjusting your headset before answering in your most sultry voice, “BAU Information Hotline, you’ve reached your number-one fan. How may I assist you, Doctor Reid?”

There was a pause, followed by the sound of Spencer clearing his throat. “You, uh—you really need to stop answering like that.”

“Oh, come on,” you teased, leaning back in your chair. “If I don’t flirt with you over the phone, how else am I supposed to keep you entertained in the field? What do you need, handsome?”

Across the bullpen, Emily and JJ exchanged looks. Morgan, who was within earshot of Spencer’s end of the call, slowly turned his head with an expression of pure amusement.

Spencer sighed but didn’t hide the tiny smile in his voice. “I need you to cross-check a list of known aliases for our unsub against financial records from the last six months.”

“Anything for you, genius,” you purred. “But if you wanted to hear my voice, you could’ve just said so.”

“(Y/N)…” Spencer warned, but you could hear the slight hitch in his breath.

Morgan’s eyebrows shot up, and he looked around the jet where several agents were now trying (and failing) to suppress their giggles.

“I mean, come on, Spence,” you continued. “You always call me first, even when I’m not the best person to ask. Is it because I have the best research skills, or because you just can’t resist the sound of my voice?”

“Both?” Spencer offered hesitantly.

You let out a dramatic sigh. “You really know how to make a girl feel special.”

Emily stifled a laugh by covering her mouth, while Hotch subtly shook his head as if resigning himself to the reality that this was just… how you and Spencer operated.

Morgan, however, was in full entertainment mode. “Oh, hell no,” he muttered under his breath, before turning toward Spencer with a smirk.

Spencer had turned red, holding the phone slightly away from his ear as if that would somehow make the situation less embarrassing.

Morgan leaned forward. “Pretty Boy, I never—ever—wanna hear that again.” He paused, then smirked. “Actually…?”

Spencer groaned and pressed the phone closer to his ear again. “Ignore him.”

“Oh, don’t worry, sweetheart,” you replied, clearly having heard Morgan. “I only have ears for you.”

Spencer let out a soft, almost pained laugh. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, you keep calling.”

Morgan shook his head. “I don’t know if I should be impressed or horrified.”

“I’d go with impressed,” JJ added, barely containing her laughter.

Spencer pinched the bridge of his nose. “Just—do you have the records?”

“Of course, Spence. I had them pulled up five minutes ago, but I was having too much fun hearing you squirm,” you admitted.

There was a chorus of “oohs” from the team as Spencer groaned again.

“You’re evil,” he mumbled.

“But you love it,” you teased.

Morgan leaned in once more, voice dripping with amusement. “Hey, (Y/N), when Pretty Boy gets back, you should tell him how much you love his brain.”

“I do love his brain,” you said easily. “And the rest of him isn’t bad either.”

Spencer, now completely red, abruptly ended the call.

The jet erupted into laughter.

---

When the team finally returned to Quantico, Spencer found you waiting at your desk, an innocent smile on your lips. “Hey, genius. Missed me?”

Spencer sighed, rubbing his face. “I have never been more humiliated.”

You grinned. “So, same time tomorrow?”

He huffed, but the small, fond smile on his lips gave him away.

Morgan walked past, clapping him on the shoulder. “Man, you’re so whipped.”

Spencer just shook his head. Maybe he was. But with you? He didn’t really mind.

[mariasont]

Sugar, Spice, Spencer's Advice - S.R

everyone expects spencer reid to fall for purely intellectual types, but what they don't know is your ability to remember his rambling lessons and your diligent googled research makes him feel irrationally turned on

pairings: spencer reid x bimbo!receptionist!reader warnings: established relationship, some suggestive content, brief mention of food-play (non-graphic, discussion only), spencer being protective, fluff af, spencer's negative outlook on sugar/food (super brief), teasing/banter, flustered spence wc: 1.4k request: here!

You’re happily licking at your ice cream cone, eyes soft with uncomplicated happiness, and Spencer thinks he’s becoming entirely too familiar with this feeling. It’s habitual. To observe you is like revisiting his favorite passage in a beloved book, each time discovering nuances he’s missed before.

He’d given in the instant your expression had turned imploring — big, pleading eyes, soft pout — your most effective weapon. Spencer has abandoned all pretense that he can resist your nightly sugar-driven rituals.

He’d pondered briefly the psychological undercurrents of your craving, but each theory usually ends up dissolving when he’s confronted by the smile you give him when he caves.

His attention drifts back just as your feet land on the dashboard. Spencer half-smiles at the sight of those slip-ons, your comfy choice through the entire day of painfully predictable romance movies. He was pretty sure he lost the plot somewhere around hour two — another mistaken identity plot twist, seriously? — but keeping track of said plot wasn’t really the point anyway. 

He’d watch paint dry if it meant hearing you laugh like that, but thankfully you usually pick slightly better entertainment. Usually.

Spencer reaches over instinctively, his hand finding its place on your thigh, patting twice for good measure.

“Hey, feet off the dash, please,” he says. “Airbags deploy faster than you think, and personally, I’m pretty attached to the current arrangement of your features.”

His mind trips over the calculation against the embarrassment of sounding like an overbearing parent. He’s not even your husband yet. Yet.

But you immediately drop your feet without complaint, settling into a position that looks decidedly safer. Spencer breathes a little easier. He gives your thigh a grateful squeeze, his thumb brushing back and forth just once in a wordless thank you.

You tuck your legs beneath you, body angled toward him, elbow planted on the center console, cheek resting in your palm. 

“My face appreciates you looking out for it,” you tease gently. “Always looking out for me actually. Is there anything else I do that’s, like, secretly super dangerous?”

Spencer’s eyes catch yours, and he lets out a laugh, shaking his head. 

“Come here,” he murmurs, lifting his hand from your thigh to sweep his thumb along the edge of your mouth, collecting the vanilla ice cream that’s smeared there. “As far as dangerous decisions go, I’d say your habit of leaving candles burning unattended ranks pretty high. One of these days you’re going to burn the whole place down, sweetheart.”

“But you said most fires from candles happen because of flammable stuff near them, not just leaving them burning,” you remind him sweetly, nose wrinkling with affection. “So really, as long as I keep things away from my candles, I’m totally safe. And I always listen to you about that.”

His heart flutters with messy pride and affection that makes him feel embarrassingly sentimental. Sure, conversations about Marcel Proust or string theory aren’t exactly your cup of tea (he’s pretty sure you’d turn your nose up at the mere thought), but there’s this distinctly genuine and wonderful way you navigate the world. 

You absorb everything he says — half-formed ideas, scattered facts, fleeting memories — in a way that weirdly puts eidetic memories to shame. 

It’s dizzying, actually, the way you’re smiling at him right now, effortlessly beautiful and clearly unaware that he’s suddenly acutely conscious of how his pulse is pounding. 

He loves you, he knows he does, deeply, and apparently by the way his face flushes hot and his breathing quickens, he’s more turned on by your quiet brilliance than he ever expected.

“Okay, so candles are covered,” he says with mock seriousness, “but what about all my advice on not talking to strangers or, I don’t know, not accepting free candy from mysterious vans? Are those making the cut too?”

“Come on, Spencer, you taught me better than that,” you say proudly. “I know all about risk assessment now, if someone seems sketchy or pushes too hard, it’s probably a danger sign. And,” you add with a satisfied smile, “that’s why you’re the only one allowed to take me for sweets. Want a bite?”

Spencer eyes the melting ice cream warily, the overly sweet scent doing nothing to tempt him, it’s essentially frozen sugar, after all, objectively terrible for him. The mental list of reasons to politely decline is endless.

But the knowledge that your lips have just been there sets off a chain reaction, desire eclipsing logic. Suddenly, he’s more than willing to abandon nutritional morals for the vague promise of an indirect kiss. Though, admittedly, he would much rather prefer the direct approach. But he’s fairly certain that running into a telephone pole would rank even higher risk wise than unattended candles or dashboard hazards. 

So, instead, he ducks his head, taking a careful bite, instantly regretting it when the sticky sweet cold paints his cheek.

Your giggles ripple, making him smile sheepishly as you shift closer. He expects your thumb, mirroring his earlier gesture, but then your lips brush against his cheek, your tongue catching the vanilla drip. Every ounce of rationality deserts him into one helplessly smitten mess.

“You know, saliva actually cleans better than wiping,” you announce thoughtfully. “So, you’re welcome, Spence.”

He’s half certain he’s never mentioned anything about saliva enzymes, but then again, he’s so thoroughly distracted by you most of the time he might’ve. It sounds exactly the kind of oddly specific detail he’d share.

“Okay,” he manages, unable to suppress a smile. “Where exactly did you learn that one?”

“I googled it.” You tilt your head. “Like, I thought food-play might be fun to try with you?” You shrug lightly, expression utterly innocent as if discussing something far less suggestive. “But then all these articles said it can get kinda gross and messy, and honestly, Spencer, I realized you’d probably just stress about germs and clean-up, and there’s no way I’d enjoy it if you weren’t totally relaxed and happy.”

Of all the things he anticipated you might say tonight, casually mentioning food play research was not on the list. It lands like a dropped grenade, exploding into fragments of thoughts he cannot possibly hope to piece together.

His cheeks burn hot as images — sticky and indecent images — flood his mind without permission. Vanilla dripping slowly down your collarbone, lips parted in invitation, eyes sparkling with that innocent curiosity he adores.

But beneath this sudden rush of desire lies something even softer because he can almost see it — your earnest expression as you scroll through webpages, considering all the possible complications, all the ways he might react. 

Spencer’s chest aches in a way he can’t pinpoint, a vulnerability spreading through him that he rarely allows himself to feel. He’s not used to people taking such gentle care of his anxieties, treating his quirks as something precious rather than burdensome. A small, quiet part of him wonders if he deserves this kind of thoughtfulness, this careful, intentional love you offer without hesitation. He wants to believe it, wants to let himself trust it completely, but the tender astonishment that grips him right now makes it hard to think straight.

“You know, angel, next time just come straight to me, okay? I promise my answers are better, and less traumatizing, than whatever you’ll find online.”

“Well, don’t blame me when you start getting texts at two a.m. about my random questions.”

Spencer raises an eyebrow at you. “I think we both know that if my phone goes off at two a.m., you’re probably not looking for statistics.”

You smile at that.

“I mean, yeah, probably,” you concede. “But honestly, Spence, I did read this thing about late-night dopamine spikes or whatever and —,”

He doesn’t think. He can’t think. The moment the car is in park, his body moves on its own, leaning across the console, hands gently cupping your face as he silences your adorable scientific ramble. He’s never felt such urgency, such an intense, overwhelming need to kiss someone as he does right now. It’s impulsive, reckless, completely out of character, and yet he feels no regret. Only relief. Only you.

For once in his analytical life, Spencer lets instinct win, savoring your lips and the small, surprised sound you make against him. He hopes you hear in his kiss everything he can’t yet put into words.

💌 masterlist taglist has been disbanned! if you want to get updates about my writings follow and turn notifications on for my account strictly for reblogging my works! @mariasreblogs

[sirsoggybread]

smitten | spencer reid

spencer reid x bau!reader

summary: when an unsub is killing teenage couples, you and spencer have to go undercover to lure him out.

warnings: mentions of murder and violence, typical criminal minds case, kissing, allusions to a praise kink? (nothing freaky nasty tho), mentions of bugs and eating bugs (sorry.)

wc: 2k

a/n: criticism appreciated since im new to writing (esp x reader fics) pls be nice tho. hope you enjoy!

Spencer wasn't even sure how he got here. He tried to place it, recalling every interaction he's had with you since you joined the BAU, but he still wasn't sure when his crush had started to form.

Crush. He hated that. He hated calling it that because it made him feel like a child, but that's what it was, wasn't it? He was smitten for you.

Maybe, it wasn't one particular moment in which a switch flipped in his brain, and he decided to start imagining how his daily routine would change to include you. Maybe, when he first met you, you planted a tiny seed of curiosity in his heart that slowly grew to consume him.

He was pulled from his thoughts by the sound of your voice, "Hey, Doc, I gotta question for you."

His lips twitched into a smile, he loved that you appreciated his endless knowledge. You didn't brush him off like most people did. You listened to his rambles, you enjoyed his fun facts, you asked for more.

"Hm, what's up?" He hummed, stirring another spill of sugar into his coffee to distract himself from your eyes.

"I saw a video the other day of a girl talking about how there's cockroaches in our ground coffee... is that true?" You asked, tilting your head, your eyes locked onto his cup.

"Yes." He answered, bringing his cup to his lips and taking a sip, causing your nose to scrunch in disgust. He let out a chuckle at your cute expression. "It's not just cockroaches either, it's mostly beetles and weevils."

Your jaw fell slack, "You know this and you drink it?"

His lips pressed into a thin line as he suppressed his amused smile, "It's not uncommon for bug particles to get into most of the food we consume, but they're ultimately undetectable and unharmful. In fact, it's an added source of fiber. In some countries such as Japan, China, Indonesia, Mexico, and more, bugs are commonly enjoyed as a delicacy and appreciated for their nutritious benefits."

You nodded slowly in response to the influx of information. Your eyes locked onto the coffee pot, internally grappling with the prospect of bugs being in the next cup of coffee that you were most definitely still going to drink.

Spencer bit back an amused smile as he watched you struggle, his gaze lingered for a moment too long, before he decided he should probably find his desk again. He settled into his chair and glanced up from his report, watching as you tentatively sipped your freshly made cup of coffee.

Naturally, Derek caught Spencer staring, and couldn't resist the urge to tease, “What's going on between the two of you, lover boy?”

Spencer felt the heat creep up his neck, his shoulder's tensing, “What? Nothing.” He cringed, knowing he was quick to answer.

Derek chuckled, “Oh, really?” He challenged, “How'd you even know who I was talking about then?”

“Ooh,” Emily leaned against Spencer's desk, “Are we talking about Spencer's crush?”

If Spencer's face wasn't red before, it definitely was now. “It's not a crush.” He said adamantly.

“Denial.” Emily hummed, earning a chuckle from Derek. She continued to tease, “You know, JJ and I have a bet going on about this, you wanna get in on that?”

“Can everybody meet in the briefing room? We got a case.”

Spencer's shoulder slumped with relief as JJ rushed past them. It's weird to be relieved by a new case, but the teasing would come to halt, and he could focus on something other than the way your nose scrunched as you drank your coffee.

Everyone gathered around the round table, trading theories and observations as JJ presented the case.

“Unlike the previous murders, Benjamin and Gina both had ligature marks on their wrists, their bodies were also deeper in the desert than our first couple.” JJ zoomed in on the bruised wrists of the corpses displayed across the TV.

“He's escalating,” Derek stated simply.

You nodded in agreement, “Controlling two people at once isn't easy, even with the threat of a weapon. He’s applying what he learned from the first murders.”

“Perfecting his craft.” Rossi hummed, the disgust evident in his voice.

“One thing is for certain,” Hotch started, standing from his seat, “His time between kills is getting shorter, which means he's probably looking for another couple now. Wheels up in 20.”

–

Even as the team ate dinner, it was shitty fast food in the police station and your noses were buried in files. Spencer still stood, staring intently at the map pinned to the board in front of him, his brows knitted tightly together.

“Staring at the board isn't going to make the answer any clearer,” you said, familiar with his expression that crossed his face, “what are you thinking?”

“Tommy and Jane both lived in the south side of town, not far from the dumpsite, but Benjamin lived in the Northside, and Gina lived in the Northeast. Garcia couldn't find any connection between the two couples– different schools, different jobs, different friend groups. So… why these couples? Where is he finding his victims?”

You stopped in your tracks, recalling an earlier interview with the parents. His question struck a realization in you. “If you're 18 with super religious parents, where are you going to makeout with your boyfriend?”

“A makeout spot,” Derek interjected.

Spencer turned to face the team with a quizzical expression, “A makeout spot?”

“Yeah, yeah,” You answered, “Sometimes teenagers find secluded spots where they'll go to makeout or whatever. Then, they tell their friends, who tell their friends, so on and so forth.”

You turned to Hotch with a sense of urgency, “Is JJ still with Gina's friends?”

“I'm calling her now.” Hotch said, already holding the phone to his ear.

Derek’s eyes flickered between you and Spencer, his brow raised, “You realize what this means, right?”

“What?” Spencer asked.

Everyone's attention was on the two of you, you sighed, “It means you and I are going to have to go undercover as a couple.”

Spencer’s eyes widened, and he frantically shook his head, “What? Why- Why us? Why can't you two do it?” He gestured between Derek and Emily.

Emily deadpanned, though a smirk tugged at her lips.

“Come on, you really think Emily and I can pass as teenagers?” Derek asked, before adding, “I mean, I probably could, but Emily definitely can't.”

“Wha- Hey!” Emily slapped his shoulder lightly.

A stern look from Hotch caused four of you to quiet down. He hung up the phone and glanced between you and Spencer, “JJ just sent me the location. Are the two of you up for this?”

“Yes.” You answered quickly, your heart thumping with anticipation. This guy had killed four teenagers, you didn't even have to consider it.

Spencer swallowed, his eyes flickering over each member of the team, all focused on him. He wanted to kiss you, be close to you, but this isn't how he wanted it to go. “Yes,” he sighed.

–

Spencer sat stiffly in the backseat of the beat down car. His ears were tinted pink, and he couldn't even blame it on the wind drifting through the cracked windows–damn, Arizona, and their warm weather.

“Should we um, should we lay down?” He asked, fidgeting with his hands.

“No,” you answered, “we don't want him to find us in any more of a compromising position than we'll already be in.”

Spencer swallowed, and nodded. “So, um…”

“Spencer, relax.” You coaxed, but he couldn't. He was supposed to kiss you, and touch you, and the whole team was listening, and you guys were about to get attacked by a serial killer. Ironically, that last one was the least nerve-wracking.

“Just don't think.” You guided his hands to your waist, “I will do all the kissing and touching, and I'll stay on high-alert. Just… try to relax, and… make sounds.” Even your cheeks grew warm at your last words.

He was about to ask what you meant by make sounds, but he was caught off by your lips pressing against his–well, sort of. You kept your thumb hidden between your mouths, so your lips never completely touched. Spencer was grateful for that, it made the scene feel less intimate.

The two of you stayed like that for a while, Hotch occasionally giving you updates through your ear piece.“We have eyes on someone, but we can't move in until we're sure it's the unsub.”

You sighed, knowing the unsub wouldn't approach until he was sure the two of you were too caught up in each other to notice him.

You moved your head next to Spencer's ear, and his breath hitched at the sensation of your warm breath on his neck.

“This okay?” you asked in a hushed tone.

“Mhm,” He hummed, forcing his shoulders to relax, and willing his head to fall to the side. He understood what you meant by ‘make sounds’ now, because the moment your lips met his neck with wet kisses, a gasp escaped his lips.

“That's good, keep doing that.” you hummed against his neck, his grip on your waist tightened as his mind started to blur. He knew you meant the noise was good because it would convince the unsub, but the praise still caused an embarrassing amount of heat to pool in his stomach.

“Suspect is approaching.” If Aaron's voice through the earpiece wasn't enough to pull him out of the haze, the car door opening, followed by a rush of footsteps definitely was.

Emily's voice rang out, “FBI, you are under arrest for the murder of Thomas Buros, Jane Martin, Gina Amato, and Benjamin Cohen.”

You could still hear Emily reciting the Miranda rights as she pulled the unsub away from the car. Hotch poked his head in, “Are you guys okay?”

“Fine,” Spencer mumbled, his heart still racing from the array of events that unfolded.

You nodded, “Yeah, we're good.”

“We're taking him back to the station. We're not anticipating for him to request a lawyer, so Rossi's going to lead the interrogation. You two are good to head to the hotel for the rest of the night.”

–

Hotch was right, he never requested a lawyer, and it didn't take long for Rossi to get him to confess. The next morning, the team was on a flight back to D.C.

Things had been awkward between you and Spencer. Well, Spencer had been awkward, and the teasing from the team was relentless.

So, you waited. You let him sit as far as possible from you on the jet and you waited until everyone had drifted off into sleep, before finding a spot next to Spencer.

You gently nudged him out of his sleep. He inhaled deeply, and rubbed his eyes as he came to, and his cheeks flushed instantly upon seeing you. He swallowed as he sat up, his pulse began to race, anticipating the conversation he was sure you were going to insist on having.

Instead, you held out a square lollipop, with a scorpion encased in the center of the transparent, red candy.

His brows furrowed, “What? What is that?”

“It's candy,” You smiled, “they had them at the corner store near the hotel, so I got it for you.”

His lips curled into a curious smile as he accepted the candy, and began inspecting it.

“Bugs are commonly enjoyed as delicacies and appreciated for their nutritional benefits.” You echoed back to him a part of your earlier conversation, and he let out a chuckle. Now it made sense.

“Well, I think the uh, candy casing might be a little counterproductive.” He commented, his lips pursing as he suppressed his amused smile, “You didn't get one for yourself?”

“Oh, no. I will have to pass on the uh, scorpion. I prefer my bugs to be undetectable.” You said quickly, earning a laugh from Spencer. His anxiety over the impending conversation seemed to dissipate.

He unwrapped the candy and stuck it in his mouth, causing your nose to wrinkle. Suddenly, he felt like he was right back where he started–his stomach fluttering as you looked at him with an amused gleam in your eye, and his heart swelling as you referenced your earlier conversation. You listened, you remembered, and you thought of him enough to buy him this piece of candy (in his favorite flavor too.)

Yes, he was definitely smitten, but then again, maybe you were too.

[cherrygarcia-07]

The HR Meeting // Spencer Reid

In which you get called out for your flirting by HR in front of the team (yes it’s the HR meeting scene from season 9)

genre: idk this was just in my head and made me laugh to think about

pairing: spencer reid x (kinda flirty) bau! reader / established relationship

word count: 1.3k

(references to sex)

———————————————————————————🍓—————————————————————————

‘So, let’s talk about sexual harassment.’

You let out a tired sigh as the HR representative continued on. You were trying to pay attention, really you were- it seemed an important topic- but you were just so damn tired and her somehow both shrill and monotone voice was making you zone out. You straightened your posture in an attempt to wake yourself up, shoulders brushing Spencer’s as he stood next to you leaning on the desk behind you both, but it was of no avail. Glancing over at him, you cursed him under your breath- it was his fault you were so worn out this morning in the first place.

‘Sexual harassment isn’t always a quid pro quo arrangement.’ You stifled a yawn. ‘maybe it’s a conversation between two coworkers that makes you feel uncomfortable.’ Curiosity cut off your yawning as you wondered what scandalous conversations you might have missed to warrant this talk, eyebrows raising without you meaning for it.

Looking around the room, you spotted Penelope nodding along to give off the impression she was listening intently but you knew she was wondering the same thing as you. Alex sat next to you to your right, chin resting in her palm as she listened earnestly- ever the professional- whereas JJ beside her seemed more on your wavelength and you flashed her a look of pure nosiness which she reciprocated.

‘Maybe these coworkers use phrases like ‘babygirl-’

No way. You bit back a laugh as you watched Penelope’s eyes widen and her head shoot to Morgan to her left, who mimicked her actions.

‘Chocolate thunder-’

This was too good. Morgan’s eyebrows were raised now too, a wary expression on his usually smug face.

‘Where’s my big black twelve pack?’

She dragged the phrase out, her voice laced with disapproval and quite frankly, disbelief. You had to look away, turning your head towards your shoulder pretending to cough in a desperate attempt to stifle the laughter threatening to spill out. Even Alex’s stoic facade had faltered, an amused look in her eyes as she tilted her head at Penelope who seemed positively mortified whilst Morgan simply shook his head, exhaling with an uncharacteristically embarrassed look taking over him.

‘And that creates a what? Hostile work environment.’ The woman turned to face the board behind her momentarily and you leaned forward to sneak a look at Spencer’s reaction. Despite the things you’d heard him say alone, you knew these types of conversations made him sheepish, but it seemed his not-so-secret affinity with gossip was stronger. He was trying to keep his expression unreadable, neutral but you knew him and you could tell in the way his brows shot up, his eyes narrowing beneath them with that mischievous twinkle, that he was loving this just as much as you were. Your eyes snapped back to the board as she turned back around.

‘So messages like… more cushion for the pushing- NOT appropriate,’ a scattered series of chuckles echoed throughout the room. ‘I’ll be Coco to your Ice-T- NOT appropriate’ oh you were so going to give Penelope shit for this later.

‘Flarpy Blunderguff…’ You couldn’t hold it in anymore. A loud laugh escaped you as if beyond your control and your hand shot up to your mouth instinctively to muffle the sound. Across the room Rossi’s lips pursed, a curious look on his face as he stared down at Morgan. A grin stretched across your face as you thought back to Penelope telling you all about ‘flarpy blunderguff’, about the paint and the food and the thought of her being caught discussing this was simply too much for you.

You giggled uncontrollably, and in an attempt to hide your juvenile glee, you leaned over and pressed your face into your boyfriend’s shoulder. Big. Mistake. The woman’s eyes shot to you. She called your name.

‘I wouldn’t get so comfortable if I were you, agent.’

Oh no. Your smile slowly dissipated and your face contorted in a mix of confusion and dread and you slowly pulled yourself up from Spencer’s shoulder, ignoring the highly entertained look he gave as he looked down at you. To your side, you heard a chuckle from JJ.

‘Likewise, phrases like-’ she turned back to the board, clicking a remote that highlighted your shame in big black letters before your coworkers, ‘Doctor Sexy.’ Breathing in, your eyes closed and your lips drew into a thin line, beside you Spencer became annoyingly unreadable. You only called him that as a joke, one time! Or two… or a few…

‘Love to watch you leave, pretty boy.’ Eyes still closed, you thought back to that day. He’d worn pants a little tighter as the result of a joke Morgan had made about him being, quote, ‘flat as a pancake back there’- not that Spencer would ever admit that’s what he was doing or why. You weren’t shy about how you felt about the way they hugged him, about how they made his waist look so pretty and how they made the rest of his lower half look even prettier. You’d been teasing him all day, revelling in the way he squirmed and lost his breath and as he turned to walk away your eyes dropped to his pants once again and you just couldn’t help yourself. Back to the present moment, Penelope’s eyes were now on you, mirroring the look you’d given her only moments ago.

‘Save the handcuffs for later.’ A blush rose on your cheeks and you could feel Morgan’s gaze on you, not needing to look at him to know he was wearing that devilish grin of his and planning a million ways to make fun of you. You hadn’t meant it seriously. Not really, anyway. It was just a joke that spilled out after making an arrest one night as you watched him tuck his handcuffs away, just something to lighten the mood… and maybe set one for later. You risked peeking a look at Spencer next to you and were shocked to find a smile tugging at the corner of his lips and his eyes wide and twinkling with amusement, you’d have thought him to be wishing the ground to swallow him whole by now.

‘Talk dirty to me, genius.’ Okay that one was completely out of context. It had been a sarcastic response to one of his infamous spontaneous tangents, only this one had been on the lovely topic of ants and parasitic fungi. To your right, cackles pierced your eardrums and your head snapped around to see JJ burying her head into her desk while Alex covered her face with her hands, eyes giddily darting between the two of you still leaning against the desk. This whole ordeal had turned your team into a bunch of immature school kids, you thought, ignoring the fact you had been acting the exact same way not even 5 minutes ago.

Feeling your embarrassment radiating off of you like heat from a fire, Spencer exhaled the last of his laughter and placed a hand on your knee, rubbing his thumb in soothing circles. Mistake number two. Exasperated, the HR representative locked her eyes onto him.

‘PDA and physical touching between coworkers also create a what?’ She asked again, her voice shooting through you. ‘Hostile work environment, Doctor Reid.’

He froze, eyes widening even further as his mouth opened and closed until his jaw simply fell open in that way it did so often (‘you’re going to catch flies in there’ you’d tell him before threatening to kiss it shut- an offer which he would happily take you up on). Hastily, he snatched his hand back and placed it in his lap as he felt a flush race up his neck. You turned to him, and despite the humiliation and the scolding and the inevitable endless teasing the two of you had coming, you couldn’t help the way your heart fluttered as you watched the flush reach his cheeks, his flustered, pink complexion matching yours.

-

[suksatoru]

katsuki bakugo is, shockingly so, a bit of a romantic. if the matching gold bands adorning both of your fingers wasn't the first indicator, than maybe his love language (cooking, of all things) can prove this notion.

katsuki wears nothing but boxers and an apron in the kitchen for two reasons. one, he rolled out of bed at six am and hasn't stopped his rampage in the kitchen since. and two, he gets hot easily when he's cooking.

it's the morning of your anniversary. your first anniversary with katsuki after getting married. your husband is crafting an absolute masterpiece in the kitchen—the spatula his sword and the plate his shield. today, you're awoken by the sound of his gentle voice coaxing you awake.

"hey, open your eyes, wifey." katsuki mumbles, poking your cheek with his knuckle as he sets your breakfast tray down on your bedside table. he crawls onto the bed, pressing a teasingly hard kiss onto your forehead, prompting you to squirm in his grasp with a whine

"katsuki, you weigh a thousand pounds, please! you're gonna crush me you brute..." you whine into your pillow as he scoffs, maneuvering onto his side of the bed with a grin. he turns his lamp on, enveloping the room in a soft, golden glow.

"happy anniversary, baby." he murmurs as he gently pushes a strand of hair from your face. your eyes shoot open in an instant, and you stare at your husband owlishly before a sleepy grin overtakes your features.

"anniversary! that's today?" you giggle, and he grins smugly while moving to grab your hands, intertwining your fingers with his and pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles

"a full year already, huh?" he murmurs against your lips, prepared to kiss you before you turn your head away with a cheeky grin

"morning breath," you comment with an adorably scrunched nose that has katsuki scoffing. with a single palm, he grabs your face and presses the most obnoxious, and oddly loving, kiss right onto your soft lips.

you laugh into his mouth, and he grins sharply, pulling away before peppering a dozen more all over your face. katsuki's kisses were usually rough and passionate in their own manner—but right now, he's taking his time. savoring the feeling of your plush skin against his mouth as he holds you flush against him.

you smile underneath him, feeling like putty before you smell it—absolute heaven—lying just a few feet away.

"breakfast in bed..?! but you said you hate getting crumbs on the sheets!" you laugh, and katsuki rolls his eyes before sitting up. he grabs your tray, setting it down in front of you as he rolls his shoulders, the muscles underneath his apron rippling with the movement.

"i suppose i'll bend the rules just this once. only because we're married, or whatever."

"or whatever," you grin, bopping his nose as he scoffs

"and because i love you...i guess..."

considering how emotionally constipated your husband was, you'll take the win! you hand katsuki his spoon, and the two of you dig into the meal.

the majority of breakfast in bed consisted of katsuki begrudgingly being hand fed by you, a few quips here and there about which one of you would be getting the first gray hair, and basking in the morning glow of the rising sun with your lover.

[darknight3904]

It Burns For You

𝕊𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪: ɪɴ ᴡʜɪᴄʜ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴏʀʏᴏ ɢʀᴏᴡ ᴜᴘ ᴛᴏɢᴇᴛʜᴇʀ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴀᴘɪᴛᴏʟ ᴀɴᴅ ᴏɴᴇ ᴅᴀʏ ᴄʀᴏꜱꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ʟɪɴᴇꜱ ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ ꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅꜱ

𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤: ɴᴏɴᴇ, ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ. ᴏᴏᴄ ᴄᴏʀʏᴏ, ʜᴇ'ꜱ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴛᴏᴛᴀʟʟʏ ʜᴇᴀᴅ ᴏᴠᴇʀ ʜᴇᴇʟꜱ ꜰᴏʀ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ. ᴄʜᴇᴄᴋ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴍʏ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ ꜰᴏʀ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ!

ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴛᴡᴏ

Coriolanus is 12 when he sees you for the first time. Your red uniform is pressed perfectly and your school bag looks brand new. Your lunch consisted of a hearty-looking sandwich with roast beef and lettuce and a container of fresh fruit that had his mouth-watering.

"Do you want a piece? Our maid always packs too much and I can never finish it. You can have some if you want." Your voice fills his ears

A delicate-looking hand is holding a juicy-looking strawberry in front of him. He reaches for it and it takes every ounce of self-control he has not to shove it in his mouth. Instead, he takes a small bite and thanks you for sharing.

"Don't you have a lunch today?" You ask

He doesn't. The school had said they would start supplying the students with lunches soon but how soon? Coriolanus had already been attending for a number of years and still nothing.

"I already ate it." He lied

"You're still hungry though. You can have the rest." You say with a smile as you push your fruit bowl to him.

"Is it your first day?" He asks

"Yes, my mother thought that my governess wasn't doing a good job so she had my father enroll me here. I miss being at home with my new kitten though. She has long white hair and she is the cutest thing in the whole world." You said

Coriolanus can't believe that you had your own governess, let alone a pet to call your own. He later learns from Arachne that your father became incredibly rich by manufacturing weaponry for the Capitol. Despite your inherent wealth, you've never flashed it around him.

You and Coriolanus are 15 when you discover all the lies he tells at school about his family. He had left his uniform jacket behind on his chair and you got his home address from Sejanus, meaning to give it back so he'd have it for tomorrow. Instead, you had discovered the Snow's decrepit-looking building and barely functioning penthouse. Coriolanus' heart nearly stops when he emerges from his room to see you and his Grandma'am sitting together as she compliments your shoes.

"What are you doing here?" He asks, ready for your judgment and teasing words

"I wanted to return your jacket, Coryo. You'll need it for tomorrow."

The red of the jacket in your arms matches his face as he ushers you to the door, trying to hide the fact that Tigris was preparing cabbage in the kitchen that would undoubtedly stink the entire place up with the scent of the Snow's poverty.

"Stop rushing me, your cousin invited me to stay for dinner." You say trying to stop the way he is leading you to the door.

"You don't want what she is making. Tigris is a terrible cook." He said

Tigris lets out a shout of disagreement from the stove and Coriolanus ignores it.

"How about, I go out and get something to add to the meal Tigris is cooking, and by the time I get back you change your attitude about me staying for dinner Coryo. "

And with that, you walk out the door and slam it in his face. He's rather stunned at your declaration but knows you're serious. He rushes around their home, trying to clean up what he can while Tigris laughs at his frantic motions. Then, just as he was debating whether or not he wanted to change out of his uniform, you return from your short trip to the closest market.

"I wasn't sure what Tigris is cooking so I got a couple of things." You say placing the bags on the table.

Coriolanus is sure you spent a fortune on what is in these bags. Fresh bread accompanied by a sickly sweet fruit spread and a block of butter sits in one while the other holds something else in a brown box. You take your seat next to him at the ugly little table he has eaten too many meals at and cut a piece of the bread for Grandma'am. He is worried when Tigris starts portioning out the cabbage she cooked on the stove. Coriolanus watches your expression as you take a bite but nothing that he expected happens. You don't knit your brows in disgust or get up to leave and take your fresh bread and mysterious box with you. Instead, you go back for a second bite and compliment what Tigris has done with the food.

He sits stiffly next to you and can barely accept the slice of bread you offer him. You excuse yourself to use the bathroom and Tigris reaches across the table and pinches his shoulder.

"Stop sitting like that, Coryo!" She scolds

"Like what?" He asks,aware that Tigris meant how oddly straight his back was.

"You're making her uncomfortable. You've been friends with her for years she isn't worried about what our home looks like." Tigris says

"She might not be but what happens when she goes to school tomorrow and talks?" He asks

He shuts up when he hears the sound of the bathroom door opening again.

"That was lovely Tigris. I've never had anything like it, I'll have to invite you all to my own home for dinner sometime. Our cook makes these pastries that are simply wonderful. They even get sold at local markets, which leads to this..."

His eyes widen when you finally unveil what was hiding in that second bag. A dozen expensive looking deserts sit in the brown box you brought, each one decorated differently.

"I hope I picked something everyone would like. I know Coryo mentioned that Grandma'am liked chocolate so I picked this one just for her."

Coriolanus feels a wide smile stretch across his face as you pass out your little desserts. His worries about you gossiping to their peers fade from view as he bites into what he thinks is a croissant. You laugh at his reaction and toss a napkin at his face which is most likely covered in the gooey fruit filling that was in his pastry.

He walks you back to your home that night and thanks you for making his night. He can't remember the last time Grandma'am had smiled from eating chocolate. You accept his thanks and gently tell him that he shouldn't be ashamed about his financial situation. He never gets to disagree with you though because a soft kiss is pressed to his lips followed by a rushed,

"Goodnight, Coryo! Thanks for the cabbage!"

He walks back to his own home with a jump in his step. Thoughts of you consume him as he smiles to himself, proud his first kiss was shared with you. He feels his heart burn with something that felt like it was going to come up and out his mouth as he finally made it back to his room, you officially had him wrapped around your finger.

Your room is flooded with sunlight the first time Coriolanus sees it. A soft, silky-looking bed spread sits atop one of the biggest beds he has seen as you beckon to your cat, Maisy to come and say hello to him. He looks at the oversized wooden dresser that sits against one wall. He sees the photograph of him and you that was taken a few weeks ago at your 17th birthday party nestled among little knickknacks. Books Coriolanus has never even heard of line your shelves as he you place a record on the player that sits on your desk. Soft sounds of a piano and the words from an unnamed singer fill your gorgeous room as he turns to you.

"Do you want to dance?" He finds himself asking

You accept and he leads you or well tries to. You're rather stiff and it turns out dancing is harder than it looks because he isn't any good at it either. You laugh as he trips over his feet and end up falling with him, landing on the ground entangled in each other. Your fingers brush his curls from his eyes as his nose brushes yours.

"What're you doing?" You ask quietly

"Nothing." He responds, his eyes flicking to your lips.

The moment his lips touch yours, a tingle shoots down his spine. This is a real kiss, not what you gave him when you were both 15. He cups your face and your hands are tangled in his hair as he deepens it. He felt his head spin as you moved against him, almost as if you wanted him to swallow you whole right here on your bedroom floor. A giddy feeling swelled in his chest when he pulled away for air.

"Coryo...what was that?" You ask

"I thought you'd know by now. That was a kiss, darling." He laughed brushing his thumb across your lip

"I know that...but why'd you give me one?" You ask

"Don't you know?" He smiles and places a chaste kiss on your lips "My heart, it burns for you, it always has."

Part 2 is out now!

Series Masterlist

[spencer-reids-fbivest]

Ummmmm…. I need him????

[g1rld1ary]

well kept secret - spencer reid x hotch's daughter!reader

wc: 1420

cw: none!

me: back on my criminal minds grind... also im not gonna lie to u guys i just got back from a hosue party and im extremely drunk, so if u see any mistakes don't be afraid to lmk. also if u have any requests for hotch!daughter pls send them thru bc im heavy into reid rn i just adore him <3

next

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

“Who is that?” JJ asked, pointing subtly over to the figure walking cautiously out of the elevator doors. The figure, of course, being you, nervously trying to find your way around the glitzy BAU offices.

“God knows we needed a new pretty face around here — no offence, ladies,” Morgan laughed, drawing well-humoured insults from the women of the office.

“I for one don’t take any offence, her shoes are so cute!” Garcia gushed from over Morgan’s shoulder, eyes locked on your sleek black heels.

“Oh my god, they look just like the ones in that window we passed on the way to dinner, don’t you remember? Even Hotch said they were nice!” Kate wheeled her way into the conversation on her swivel chair.

It was a slow day around the office, not something that went unappreciated, so each agent was eagerly amenable to conversation.

“Reid, come over here,” Morgan beckoned, “Has she ever been here before?”

“Me?” He spluttered, eyes searching frantically, “Why would you ask me? Hundreds of people come into this building every day, let alone the thousands we see on the street every day, on cases—”

“And you have an eidetic memory kid, are you thinking straight or is the pretty girl messing up Boy Genius?”

Reid would drop dead before admitting that Morgan’s words had any truth to them, but his usually overactive speech pattern was halted by the vision of you entering the office’s glass double doors. His mouth dried out as you looked around, obviously unsure of where you were headed.

“No,” He finally answered, “I’ve never seen her before in my life.”

“She looks lost. Kind of scared, even?” JJ was giving her signature maternal look, concern etched into her face and Garcia was up before anyone could tell her it might not have been a good idea.

The gang watched from afar as your expression brightened from worried to delighted as Garcia began to chat with you, eyes gleaming as you pointed down to your heels. Clearly she’d repeated the earlier compliment.

“Hi! I’m Penelope Garcia, technical analyst, and you are gorgeous. I’m in love with your shoes!” The introduction and compliment took you by surprise but you were by no means disappointed, replying with equal giddiness.

“Thank you so much, my Dad bought them for me!” You extended your right leg slightly to show off the heel more holistically, “And I just love your outfit, the glasses are everything.”

Garcia gushed her own appreciation as the two of you became fast friends, so you chanced a request for help.

“I’m looking for SSA Aaron Hotchner’s office? I know it’s one of the big fancy ones but I’m not sure exactly which.”

“Up those stairs and second door! You can’t miss it, the big boss energy radiates as soon as you go near.” You both laughed and you made sure to thank Garcia profusely.

Reid watched as you pointed up to the private offices, evidently searching for a specific office. He wondered who you could be looking for. He didn’t have to wonder for long as Garcia rushed back, talking a million miles an hour as she explained that you were looking for Hotch. That brought more questions than answers, and the BAU were quick to place bets on what you could possibly want from him.

“Well, she’s certainly too young to be his girlfriend,” Morgan laughed, “Unless Hotch gets down more than we thought.”

“Could be a young woman looking for a mentor? She looks about college age, maybe just graduated?” Kate suggested and JJ nodded in agreement, neither even pretending to be working anymore.

Meanwhile, you’d made your way up to Hotch’s office, knocking softly on the oak door.

“What are you doing here?” He asked, eyebrows raising only slightly, an extreme show of emotion for the man.

“Check your watch, Agent Hotchner,” You smiled, unsurprised that he’d gotten totally consumed by his work.

“Damn,” He huffed under his breath, “I’m sorry, should we go now, then? And what did I tell you about calling me that?”

“Sorry, Dad,” You emphasised the title, “And yeah, let’s head. I’m starving.”

Down in the bullpen, even Rossi had been roped into the shenanigans.

“You’re the closest with Hotch, if anyone would know who she is it’s you!” JJ said, the rest of the group agreeing.

“Why don’t you just, I don’t know, ask him?” Rossi shook his head like he was dealing with small children. Sometimes he was convinced he was.

You took Hotch’s offered arm and the two of you left his office, making quiet smalltalk. The office fell eerily quiet as you two emerged from the behind the closed door, and you got the distinct impression that the BAU had all been talking about you.

Obviously Hotch noticed the team very unsuccessfully playing it cool and muttered a curse, signalling to you to head over to them. You supposed you were going to finally get your formal introductions.

“This is Rossi, Derek Morgan, JJ, Kate Cunningham, Penelope Garcia, and Doctor Spencer Reid. Guys, this is my daughter.”

If you thought there was silence before, it was nothing compared to when Hotch dropped that bomb. You could hear a pin drop.

“Um, it’s really nice to meet you all! I’ve heard so many stories about your work.”

“And we’ve never heard anything about you, pretty girl.”

“Morgan,” Hotch warned with hardly any bite as you laughed off Morgan’s playful flirting.

“Derek Morgan you are exactly like I was told. You too, Penelope, my father was not exaggerating about your outfits.”

“I thought you were starving?” Hotch changed the subject to tease you, nudging you to get moving.

“Alright, alright, I get it. You don’t want me taking all your friends,” You grinned, getting moving nonetheless. The BAU laughed, both charmed and confused by you. It wasn’t unbelievable you were Hotch’s daughter — your quiet confidence and posture was the same, but your friendliness and more easily understandable humour set you two apart.

“Bye everyone!” You called over your shoulder as Hotch rushed you out the doors, clearly keen for you to stop making friends with his coworkers.

“She seems nice,” JJ commented, sitting back down in her swivel chair.

“Can we all talk about how Pretty Boy didn’t say a word that whole conversation?” Morgan asked, a hand clamping deviously on Reid’s shoulder.

“Spencer!” Kate laughed, “You don’t have a crush, do you?”

Reid could feel his cheeks heating up of their own accord, his usually genius brain useless to counteract it.

“No!” He blurted out, “I just didn’t want to say something wrong or bore her with facts like I do with you guys.”

“So you do want to impress her?” Garcia teased with a toothy grin as Reid rushed to shake his head no.

“She’s our boss’ daughter, guys. I think all of us should want to impress her, right?”

“I dunno, Reid, I don’t see Morgan or JJ blushing right now,” Rossi chimed in with a laugh before heading back to his office.

You stepped into the elevator with Hotch, chatting happily about your day so far. Your father stuck his hand out to hold the door open with such speed it scared you a little, jumping in your own body. You relaxed when you saw it was just Penelope Garcia, hurrying towards you with a few files in her hands.

“Thank you, sir,” She breathed as the doors closed behind her, “I forgot Rossi wanted these scanned and digitised from the last case!” She punched the button for the third floor. “It was really nice to meet you, by the way. Even if Hotch has kept you a secret all these years.”

“To be totally fair to him, I wouldn’t say he exactly kept me a secret if he only found out I existed a few years ago. It was nice to finally meet you all too, though. I’ve heard so many work stories.”

You bid Garcia goodbye as the doors opened once again. Just as she was almost down the hall she heard your voice whisper, “Why didn’t you tell me doctor Reid was hot and smart?”

Penelope hardly concealed her gasp, delighted at the newfound revelation. This would be fun for her.

next part

[esote-rika]

the memory of your lips | Spencer Reid

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Category: Flangst. Summary: At the end of a great date, you have to deal with the realities of dating a BAU agent. Content: Mentions of alcohol, reader is tipsy and flirty and LOVESICK, Spencer is a gentleman, kisses, no use of y/n, reader is called angel. I had s3 or 4 Spencer in mind when I was writing, but it works for any season.  Word count: 1.4k A/N: Here’s the fic for the Lovesick by Laufey (listen to it right here, PLEASE I BEG!!!) poll I did a while back. I know I originally planned for it to have smut, but I opted out because it didn’t feel right with the tone??? Anyways, this was just really fun to write, and I hope you enjoy! 

Three dates are an embarrassingly short amount of time to have fallen in love with someone, but in your defense, you have not encountered anyone quite like Spencer Reid in all your years of dating. 

Never have you met a man so intensely focused and attentive, so intelligent without any hint of pretense. His arrogance is founded, but he never used his genius to make you feel less; instead, he’s committed everything you’ve told him to memory, from your favorite book to the throwaway comment you made about liking a specific shade of lipstick. Two dates and he’s already memorized you like a poem. It’s exhilarating. 

This third date had been the one to seal the deal. 

Sure, the anxiety is still there, and it might have caused you to have one too many glasses of wine over dinner, but still. Everything had gone so beautifully. A stroll around the art gallery where Spencer had eagerly shared the history behind the paintings. When you’d paused at a particular hallway, he stood right by a window and was hit just so by the golden afternoon sun that his eyes turned to the color of moss, you could have sworn you’ve forgotten the ability to breathe. You’re convinced you were the walking equivalent to the heart eyes emoji at that point, staring up at him with a starry gaze, all throughout the following dinner at an intimate restaurant, where you allowed yourself to indulge in some wine. 

Not that you needed it. At that point, you felt so relaxed and at ease with him that you were afraid you might float away. The alcohol only served to heighten the giddiness, casting the world in soft hues of sparkling gold. Like Spencer’s eyes. Which reminds you—

“You’ve the prettiest eyes,” You’re giggling as he walks you to your door, a lean arm firmly wrapped around your waist  to steady you. Head angled up, all of your attention is on him while you walk up the stairs, which isn’t helping your stumbling gait in the slightest. 

Despite his attempts to fight it, a small smile pulls at his lips. He’s obviously trying to seem stern, but his eyes look upon you with fondness. “I should have cut you off sooner.”

“Mhm, no, I wouldn’t have let you.”

“You’re gonna feel this tomorrow,” he warns as he stops at your doorstep, “Keys.”

You fumble through your purse, quickly locating them and pressing the keys into his palm. He slots it easily into the lock, and turns. 

He hesitates. Your hands shake as you wait.

“Can I trust you to make it to your bed in one piece?” he murmurs, fingers brushing a strand of hair away from your face.

“Probably not. You might need to help me out,” you whisper, even though you’re not really that drunk. It’s a (very thinly veiled) attempt to get him inside your apartment, in your bed. You’re not sure where you got the confidence.

But it’s Spencer, the sweet man who frequents the same bookshop in which you also spend a lot of time. The same man who’d been so shy about making a move that he decided to buy you a book and slip his number into the pages. 

So there’s no pressure, he had scrawled in messy, rushed letters. Embarrassingly, the note is in your wallet, kept as a memento.

It’s him, and the entire date has been a series of signs that simply validated the small (massive) crush you’ve had on him. You don’t want it to end yet. Or ever, really. If he’d let you keep him forever. 

Ever the gentleman, he nods and guides you inside. You stumble onto your couch with a low groan, an arm flung over your eyes as the harsh overhead light flickers open. Quick, shuffling footsteps, and then the couch dips beside you.

“Here, have some water.”

You accept the glass with a lopsided smile. The way his eyes linger on you would be enough to make you melt when you’re sober, but right now, with alcohol coursing through your veins, it’s downright cruel. “Your eyes are so pretty.”

“You’ve mentioned that already,” he says, urging you to drink, “Thank you. You have very beautiful eyes too.”

Once the glass is empty, he sets it on your coffee table and kneels down. With gentle hands, he eases the heels off of your feet, fingers pressing into the ankles carefully. 

“Come on,” he helps you to your feet, and you all but become deadweight in his arms as he walks with you to your bedroom. 

Spurned mainly by alcohol, you lift yourself to your tiptoes for a kiss. His surprise makes him pause, but he kisses you back gently, hands coming up to cup your cheeks. It makes you sigh, this tender way he likes to kiss, cradling your face as though it’s the most important thing he’s ever held. When your tongue sweeps across his lower lip, he pulls back.

“What—”

“You’re drunk,” his lips move to your forehead, “You need to sleep.”

“But Spence…” it’s childish to whine when he denies you, but it’s the only thing your dejected, alcohol-addled brain is capable of doing.

He chuckles, slowly walking you backwards onto your bed. “No, angel, it wouldn’t sit right with me.”

“I’m giving you all my consent right now.” you pout as he hands you a disposable towel from your bedside table. With a huff, you set on wiping away your makeup as he rummages through your drawers for pajamas. He finds some shorts and an old tshirt, and helps you out of your dress, shaking his head as you try (and fail) to seduce him into sleeping with you.

“Shouldn’t have had that last glass if this was how you wanted the night to end.” he says,  a teasing smile on his lips.

“You’re never gonna let me live that down, huh?”

He kisses your temple as a response, and gently pushes you to lay down. Chuckling, he sits on the edge of your bed, a hand on your knee. “I just don’t want you to be inebriated if we’re going to be physically intimate. Especially not the first time.”

You pout, “Boo, you’re too sweet for your own good.” It earns you a laugh from him, and it’s enough to wipe the pout off your lips, “Will you at least sleep over?”

He seems to consider it, running his hand up and down your thigh. However, it is as though the universe is conspiring against you, and his phone rings. You watch as his brows furrowed in concern as he checks whatever message he’s received. “I have to go in, we have a case.”

Your heart drops. The pout returns, “It’s Friday night.”

“I know, angel.” he leans forward and kisses your forehead again, almost in apology, “I’m sorry, I did tell you I don’t work traditional hours.”

Your hands close around his shirt and you pull him down. He surrenders to your eagerness this time, kissing you deeply, hands tangled in your hair, before he stops, breathing ragged. “I’ll make it up to you when I return, I promise.” he kisses you again, languidly, savoring the last few moments before he has to leave. 

You don’t have his eidetic memory, but you memorize the feeling of his lips all the same. “Stay safe,” you whisper when he finally pulls back, feeling oddly sobered up now that the reality of him leaving you is more present, “Text me when you can.”

“I will, angel.” he gives you one last kiss on your forehead before he stands up, “Drink lots of water tomorrow, okay? I’ll see you soon.”

You nod, and stare at his retreating back with a sad smile, blinking away the tears when you hear your apartment door click into place, signaling his departure. You try to tell yourself you’re being silly. It’s been three dates and you’re already acting so clingy. You chalk it up to the alcohol, twisting your feelings. Earlier, it had made the world seem effervescent, but now that he’s left, it only exacerbates your loneliness.

Is this how it’s going to be when you date him? He’d laid it out quite clearly during your conversations, that sometimes they get pressing cases that require them to drop everything else.  You aren’t sure you’re prepared to have dates be interrupted with one phone call. Morning afters without him beside you. With a sigh, you sink into bed, eyes closed, and only the memory of his lips to tide you through the night.

[siriuslylantsov]

be my valentine

pairing: spencer reid x reader

description: in which, spencer asks you out after a hearty but incomplete info dump on the history of valentines day.

tags: fluff! idiots inlove, gn!reader, reader is briefly described as shorter than spencer, teasing!spencer, grumpy!reader, penelope is an angel and i love her so much, reader shitting on valentines day and raising some very valid points.

a/n: based on this request, second fic for the event!! i know its still four days till valentines day but! if i didnt get this done now it would've been late. i rewrote this THREE times... but i rlly like how this version came out! happy reading :)

wc: 2.1k

it's your lunch break and you’re glaring at yet another sappy couple that walks by you. grumbling, you take another bite of your blueberry muffin. spencer laughs from his seat in front of you, amused by how your lip curls into an irritated pout. the two of you had walked to a cafe, a brief reprieve away from the frenzied police department you were stationed at for this week's case. 

“motherfuckers,” you seethe, still chewing your food. “i hate valentine's day.”

he laughs again, his tone sarcastic, “really, i never would’ve guessed.”

your glare shifts to him as you cross your arms. his grin is still there, annoyingly persistent, you hate that it doesn't affect him as much as it should. if you told him this, he would’ve told you that it didn't pack much of a punch. 

you roll your eyes and continue with a heavy scoff, “it's just another fake holiday, you know. like mother's day. created by greeting card companies trying to commercialise a day that shouldn't even exist honestly. every day should be dedicated to showing your loved ones how much you care, not just 24 hours in the middle of february.”

he accepts your cynicism with a smirk, completely accustomed to it. he knows you don’t mean it, not entirely, you just like to rant. “you know valentines day actually goes back about 2000 years. i’m sure greeting card companies weren't around back then,” he corrects, biting his lip in suppression.

your eyes narrow into slits, feeling the faint shift in the air of an incoming info dump. you ignore the way you want to hear what he has to say and take a sip of your coffee instead. you stall to torture him a bit, it's funny how he squirms.

“really,” you drag out, stroking your chin in exaggerated contemplation. you stare at him knowingly, he wants to continue but he's waiting for you to give him the green light. you laugh quietly, mood already improved, “go on.”

spencer visibly brightens, sitting up straighter and hands springing into action. “well, valentine's day has a really fascinating and somewhat convoluted history,” he starts, almost giddily. “the earliest accepted theory can be traced back to the roman festival of lupercalia, which was celebrated from february 13th to 15th. it was a fertility festival dedicated to faunus, the roman god of agriculture, and it included a ritual where men would sacrifice a goat and a dog, then use strips of the goat’s hide to whip women-”

“wait, they used goat skin to whip women?” you interject, eyes widening incredulously.

“yes! they willingly lined up for it too, believing it would make them more fertile,” he explains, far too animated considering the context, but it's okay. you like his enthusiasm. 

you grimace, “weird.”

“right. however, the day of love that we now recognise was brought by st. valentine, though which valentine is unclear—there were at least three martyred saints by that name. the most famous story involves a priest in third-century rome who defied emperor claudius ii's orders by secretly performing marriages for young soldiers,” he pauses to take a breath. you use it to bring your coffee back up to your lips, hiding your smile.

“claudius believed single men made better warriors, so he banned them from marrying,” he clarifies to which you nod. “when valentine was caught, he was executed on february 14th, which is why he’s the namesake of the holiday. some versions of the story even say that he sent a letter to his jailer's daughter signed ‘from your valentine’ which could be the origin of the modern tradition.”

“huh,” you pick your lip in thought, spencer hides the way his eyes dart down to them as you do it. “but that’s still an execution, how did it-”

the shrill tone of your ringtone interrupts you. “mhm, okay,” you respond when you pick up the phone. “we’ll be right there.” 

spencer stares at you expectantly, reaching over to grab your bag. he secures it over his shoulder and stands up. 

“it was jj,” you explain, stuffing the last bits of muffin into your mouth. “wi’ness ‘howed up.”

the food-muffled words make him chuckle and hold out a hand for you to get up. you let him pull you up with a dramatic huff, still holding his hand as you dust crumbs from your lap. you realise it a little too late and let go with a start, frown returning when you realise he isn’t going to let you carry your bag.

the walk back only took about five minutes before but this time's slower pace makes it a longer ordeal. comfortable silence brackets the two of you until it doesn’t when spencer speaks up.

“so, there's actually a lot more to the history of valentine's day. for instance, how the day became one of romance instead of, as you said, one that marked a martyrdom. we could, i don't know, discuss this properly over dinner. or drinks? or ice cream, i know that you like ice cream-”

filler words... he’s nervous. amid his rambling, he doesn't realise that you’ve stopped in your tracks. 

“-we can do whatever you want, i don't mind.” when he looks beside him and doesn't find you, he turns around. he can scarcely read the expression on your face, he usually can. this causes a little bout of concern to bubble up, “what is it?”

“are you asking me out?” your question is immediate, blunt, as a confused crease forms between your eyebrows.

well shit, he was. his lips part as he processes what he just said, he looks a little like a deer in headlights the way he stares back at you. was that too much? are you mad? did you want him to ask you out? what if you say no? he should say something. what if he messes everything up? he can’t-

“spencer,” his name rings out softly, pulling him from his spiral. 

his eyes snap to yours, searching, desperate to read between the lines, to piece together what you’re thinking like he always does—except this time, he can’t. he squeezes his eyes shut before opening them again, “yes.”

he swallows hard and adds, “on a date.”

“i got that,” you murmur, stepping closer to him, and closing the distance that he unintentionally left.

his head dips, voice small. “i didn't mean to make you uncomfortable.”

your head tilts slightly, studying him. “you didn’t.”

the reassurance eases him a little but not enough as the anxiety claws at him while he waits for your answer. your phone sounds again from your pocket, this time a text from morgan. you quickly type out a response–got lost, be there in 2. it's a pathetic excuse, if you focused, the station was in your direct eye line. but you needed to say something. 

“okay.”

he can't help the sign of relief that slips out of him, you giggle at the sound. when he looks at you again, he's unmeasurably happy to see your poorly concealed smile, breaking out in his own matching one. 

“yeah?” he asks sheepishly.

you nod, chewing your bottom lip, “yeah.”

your eyes squint at the corners, a side effect of the same grin that those sappy couples had been sporting, the same one that you’d been complaining about a little while ago. it makes you want to kick yourself, so you do the next best thing. you take hold of spencer's hand and drag yourself back to the pd. spencer shuffles somewhat behind you, trying to keep up with your stride. it doesn't take him long with those long legs of his.

his thumb strokes your knuckles gently–deliberately, you feel–but he pretends it's an unconscious action with the way his eyes are trained ahead. it makes you roll your eyes. when you near, you reluctantly let go of each other, the moment being the last time the two of you are alone for the rest of the day.

-

the team ends up solving the case a few hours later, taking the jet home where a valentines day baking spread is set up in the briefing room. all set up by the resident tech savvy. penelope tells you later that it took a whole week of convincing on her part, insisting that it would be quick and she’d clean up, and that everyone would get home to their own valentine's day plans in no time. 

there are a few heart-shaped helium balloons floating in the corners, and pink streamers in easy to reach places. the room is drastically more inviting, maybe the tones of fuschia and bubblegum have something to do with that. a cake and a bowl of suspiciously dyed punch reside on the table, along with pink plates and cups.

“penelope,” you gasp when you see them.

perfectly curated baskets of chocolate and cookies and associated items for everyone. you pick up the one with your name on it and inside you find: a candle, your favourite candy tied together with a little bow and a letter signed ‘happy valentines day, sweetheart. love, penny xx’. 

oh my god, you could kiss her. 

“it's like christmas,” emily muses from the other end of the table. you hear jj mutter something in agreement. you peek over at spencer, it's probably the hundredth time that you've snuck a glance his way. his eyes were already on you every other time, only now they were accompanied by a pair of red heart-shaped glasses, the clear plastic lenses offering a perfect view of his hazel orbs. the picture makes you laugh to yourself, you can barely hear it echoing from his end. 

-

about 30 minutes later, only the stragglers are left. in better words, the single people. the individuals with partners having rushed off to their own respective plans. you're making small talk with another girl who worked around the office when you feel a light hand on your shoulder, spencer nodding his head toward the elevator to signal your leave. you politely wish her goodbye and walk out with him. 

“cute glasses,” you tease, bumping his shoulder with yours, though the height difference makes it so you're nudging his upper arm. 

“yeah? i might get the lenses medicated, switch them out for my regular ones,” he jokes, his elbow nudging yours gently as he pushes the bridge of the glasses up the slope of his nose instinctively. 

“good idea,” you nod.

“you think?”

“mhm.” 

once again, he beats you to your bag, swiping it from your chair and carrying it along with his own. you meekly toy with the hem of your shirt as the two of you walk to the elevator. 

“so, bummer that neither of us have plans today. it’s so early,” you say, being blatantly obvious with what you're suggesting.

spencer only offers you an indifferent “yeah, bummer” in response, walking in when the doors slide open. when you look at him though, he's anything but indifferent, the corner of his lip pulling up in a crooked smile, irritatingly smug. you don't know where he gets off on being so at ease but the expression on his face makes you scowl as you follow him in. 

he is silent the whole ride down. you become increasingly annoyed, only faltering slightly when his hand reaches down to hold yours. his fingers thread between yours and you not-so subtly curl yours over his, ignoring the way he looks down at you. 

you try not to smile at the domestic picture of the two of you walking out hand in hand. thankfully the basement is empty. he pauses between your cars and mutters a quick “see you monday” before loosening his fingers and turning to walk away.

“spencer,” you groan, almost a whine as you squeeze his hand before he can let go.

he responds immediately, without missing a beat, “yes, angel.”

fuck.

you want to melt but you don’t want to give him the satisfaction. “would you like to do something tonight?” you grit out begrudgingly.

“i would love to,” he agrees, pulling you closer with your hand. your gaze darts to the two bag straps on his shoulder and you realise he had no intention of letting you go just like that. so you shove him, a little hard that he stumbles a bit. he huffs a laugh and you shake your head dismissively. 

he slowly, tentatively, dips down to press a soft kiss to your cheek. your eyes flutter shut at the contact. 

“how does thai food sound?” he asks, that same bashfulness creeping into his voice that you love so dearly. 

“sounds perfect.”

you share another sweet smile that would probably make you gag from an outside perspective but now it just makes you feel dizzy. he leads you back to his car, muttering something about how he’ll pick yours up tomorrow morning. you want to argue with him but that same dizzy feeling stops you.

you can't help the dreamy sigh that slips out when he connects your hands again over the centre console. thank god for st. valentine, you think.

reblogs and replies are appreciated :) | m.list

divider from @saradika-graphics

[little-jana]

"Dr. Reid’s Plus-One and A Half"

Pairing: Spencer Reid x wife!reader

Genre: fluff

Words: 2k

Warnings: some team shenanigans, pregnancy, secret relationship, use of Y/N, season 1 Spencer awkwardness

Summary: The BAU hosts a formal dance, and Spencer shows up with his very pregnant wife—who no one even knew existed. Cue absolute chaos.

a/n: requested: yes! Thank u very much! Enjoy! 🌷

The FBI’s annual formal dance was something Hotch insisted they attend, mostly to keep up appearances with the higher-ups and maintain a sense of normalcy outside of chasing serial killers. While most of the team had plans to go together, no one expected Spencer Reid—the socially awkward, cardigan-wearing genius—to bring a date.

And certainly not a wife.

Yet, there he was, walking into the venue in a well-fitted suit, holding hands with the most adorable, bubbly woman they had ever seen. She had a radiant smile, an excited energy that contrasted Spencer’s usual nervous demeanor, and—oh yeah—a very noticeable baby bump.

Derek Morgan choked on his drink. Penelope Garcia shrieked. JJ’s mouth dropped open. Elle literally did a double-take. Hotch… well, Hotch just looked stunned in the most subtle Hotch way possible.

“WHAT THE HELL, PRETTY BOY?!” Morgan was the first to explode, eyes flicking between Spencer and the woman clinging to his arm.

“Umm…” Spencer adjusted his tie nervously, pushing his glasses up. “Everyone, this is my wife, (Y/N).”

“Your WHAT?!”

“Hi!” You beamed, completely unfazed by their reaction. “I’m so excited to meet all of you! Spencer talks about you guys all the time!”

“Wife?!” JJ echoed, eyes still wide. “You’re married?!”

“And expecting?!” Penelope practically vibrated with excitement, eyes locked on your baby bump.

Spencer cleared his throat. “Uh, yeah. Surprise?”

“Oh, this is more than a surprise, genius,” Morgan said, crossing his arms. “How the hell did you keep this from us?”

“Well…” Spencer hesitated. “It just never… came up?”

“I CANNOT BELIEVE THIS,” Penelope squealed. “Wait, wait, how did you two even meet?! How long have you been married?! Oh my God, Spencer, you absolute sneaky little nerd!”

You laughed, squeezing Spencer’s arm. “It’s actually a really cute story! We met at a bookstore two years ago—he knocked over an entire display while trying to reach for a book, and I helped him clean it up. We got married about a year ago, and now—” You patted your belly with a grin. “—we’ve got a little one on the way!”

The team collectively lost it.

Morgan looked betrayed. “You mean to tell me this whole time, while I’ve been trying to help this man talk to women, he’s been married to you?”

“Yup!” You chirped happily.

“I have never felt more deceived,” Penelope gasped dramatically, placing a hand over her heart. “Spencer, you mean to tell me you had a secret wife and didn’t tell your favorite tech goddess?!”

“Uh… surprise?” Spencer repeated awkwardly.

JJ shook her head in disbelief. “I think this might be the most shocking case we’ve ever had.”

Hotch finally stepped forward, looking between you and Spencer with something that almost resembled a smile. “I have to admit, Reid, I didn’t expect this.”

“Neither did I,” Elle muttered.

“Did anyone see this coming?” JJ asked.

“Nope,” Morgan said immediately.

“Not at all,” Penelope added.

“Well, I did tell them about you,” Spencer mumbled to you.

“But you failed to mention the wife part,” you teased.

Spencer sighed, rubbing his forehead. “Okay, okay, I get it. It’s just… I guess I was worried about how you’d all react.”

“Oh, genius, we’re ecstatic,” Penelope assured, bouncing on her heels. “Just completely and utterly blindsided.”

“Seriously, though,” Morgan said, placing a hand on Spencer’s shoulder. “Congrats, man. You really found yourself someone special.”

Spencer smiled, looking down at you with pure affection. “Yeah. I really did.”

And as the team finally gathered around, asking you a million questions and gushing over your baby bump, Spencer couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming warmth. Maybe he had been nervous about telling them, but now? Seeing how much they cared—for both of you—it was more than he could have ever hoped for.

The BAU’s resident genius: awkward in social situations, but apparently an expert in secret marriages.