#i love spencer | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

vee6lolz · 4 months ago

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hello!!! how are you?

i was thinking about spencer meeting a teacher hehe I'm not so good at describing it, but maybe she's giving private lessons for a kid's neighbour of his and then they meet at the elevator of the building? pretty please? ��

𝖑𝖊𝖘𝖘𝖔𝖓 𝖎𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖑𝖎𝖋𝖙. -- spencer reid x teacher!reader.

warnings/tags: (fluff!) , teacher / chaotic (but sweet) reader.

a/n: i had so much fun writing this help me i love u to whoever suggested it

wc: 1.9k !!

summary: you're a teacher whose putting in the work for summer school students, you wake up late one day and even though it seemed like the most inconvenient thing ever, it worked out in your favor after all.

NOT PROOF READ + ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE.

The morning sun spilled through the gaps in the curtains, casting stripes of light across the tangled mess of blankets in your bed. You blinked groggily, your eyes heavy and puffy from too little sleep and too many regrets. As you rubbed the remnants of last night from your eyes, your phone buzzed insistently on the nightstand, the screen lighting up with a string of missed calls. Four from your ex, two from his best friend. A dull ache settled in your chest—a reminder of things you’d just rather forget.

You groaned, realizing you had returned none of them. Not that you had the time, or the patience. Rolling out of bed, an overwhelming wave of yesterday’s choices washed over you; you reeked of sweat and something faintly reminiscent of cheap wine. Your gaze flicked to the clock on the wall—12:30. Oh shit. You were late.

With an urgency you hadn’t felt in days, you scrambled to gather yourself, moving your hair out of your face as you stumbled towards the bathroom, your heart racing along with the consequences of your procrastination.

you stumbled into the bathroom, splashing cold water on your face in an effort to shake off the fog of last night. the cool rush did little to calm your racing heart as you hastily brushed your teeth, already scanning the small space for something—anything—that was clean to wear.

just as you reached for a shirt that suspiciously looked like it might’ve been worn yesterday, your phone buzzed again. the caller id read “mrs. henderson,” one of your students' moms. with a sigh, you answered, knowing you had no choice.

“hello, mrs. henderson,” you greeted, trying to inject some cheer into your voice.

“yes, ma’am,” you replied, wincing at the urgency in her tone. “yes, i am on my way right now, stuck in traffic.” you glanced at the clock again; the minutes were slipping away.

as you hurriedly threw on a wrinkled pair of pants, you glanced out the window and noticed the swarm of cars barely inching along. your frustration bubbled over, and without thinking, you shouted toward the street, “come on! move it already!”

“ugh, you know how it goes during rush hour,” you continued to mrs. henderson, half-exasperated and half-amused at your own antics. “yes, almost there, buh bye!” you ended the call with a shaky laugh, shaking your head at the chaos of your morning.

with adrenaline pumping and a mounting sense of urgency, you quickly pulled a sweater over your head, choosing to ignore the wrinkles. tugging on your shoes, you grabbed your bag and took one last look in the mirror. you could only hope today wasn’t a complete disaster—and that you wouldn’t have to dodge any more frantic phone calls.

you got out of your car and parked in guest parking, the summer sun pouring through the window, painting the seats in golden hues. instead of lounging on a beach somewhere, sipping piña coladas and listening to the sound of gentle waves, you were stuck in summer school with one specific student. your friends were sharing stories of tropical adventures while you were grading notes on multiplication and grammar. it wasn’t that the student was a bad kid; in fact, she had been a solid performer until the semester began to slip away from her. she was bright but had a stubborn streak that kept her from doing anyone else’s work, that is, until she met you, ms. [l/n]. the school administration figured that since you had built such a great rapport with her, why not sacrifice a little vacation time to help ensure the girl wouldn’t flunk? and if they thought you were just going to say yes because you felt bad... then yeah, they were right. god you hated teaching summer school.

as you arrived and, rushed down the hall, you hit the button for the elevator, tapping it with increasing impatience as the minutes slipped away. the elevator door stood stubbornly closed. you groaned and hit the button again and again, tapping it with a combination of desperation and frustration.

“having trouble?” a voice chimed from behind you. you turned to see a tall figure walking toward you, his frame around six feet tall, effortlessly commanding the small space. he had tousled dark hair, and his cheekbones were high and defined, complemented by a slight smile. his eyes were a striking shade of hazel, an unusual mix that seemed to shift with the light. he wore a fitted black shirt that accentuated his lean frame, paired with dark suit pants. he looked almost too perfect—a professor-type, but a bad one. like someone who could educate you on the theory of relativity and then do things to you you would never forget.

“uh, yeah. it won't budge,” you admitted, feeling a flush creep up your cheeks as you briefly noted how attractive he was. he approached the elevator panel and swiftly pressed the actual button—of course, the one you had been mashing fruitlessly. the elevator doors opened with a soft ding, and you stepped inside, feeling a mix of gratitude and intrigue.

“thank you,” you said, glancing at him as the doors closed. you stood next to each other in the cramped space, and you couldn’t help but eye him curiously. he seemed absorbed in his own thoughts, occasionally looking down at his hands. you couldn’t figure out why he was so quiet, but you didn’t dwell on it for long; your focus was on arriving to the door.

as the elevator hummed its way to your destination, you noticed the number flashing above the door. to your surprise, you were headed to the same floor. just as you reached it, you both instinctively moved toward the door at the same time.

“oh, after you,” he offered, his voice smooth and lightly teasing. your heart raced again, not just from the sense of urgency but also from how charming his laugh was. you couldn't help but notice the way it seemed to echo around you, making you want to hear it again.

“no, please. after you,” you insisted in return, and you both found yourselves caught in an awkward dance, both trying to let the other go first, unable to decide who should step out first.

“after you,” he repeated, laughter dancing in his voice, and just like that, you nodded, cheeks slightly warm, before stepping out of the elevator. as you walked past him, you felt the warmth of his presence lingering, and that laugh—oh, God if you weren't so late right now...

you sat across from your young student at the small kitchen table, surrounded by a mix of colorful worksheets, pencils, and books. The late afternoon light poured in through the window, casting a warm glow over the room. The little girl diligently worked on her times tables, the crinkled paper a testament to her determination.

As you glanced occasionally at her progress, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of fulfillment. Teaching had its challenges, but moments like these reminded you why you loved it. You caught yourself smiling—genuine, unfiltered joy spilling over as the girl successfully rattled off another multiplication fact. but you also caught yourself remembering the tall man in the elevator, you smirked to yourself even more.

In a moment of concentration, she looked up and noticed. “You’re smiling a lot!” she blurted out, her eyes wide with curiosity. You chuckled softly, caught off guard by her observation. “I guess I am,” you replied, trying to keep your tone light.

“My neighbor down the hall works for the FBI,” she announced with an important air. Her youthful confidence was contagious. “He’s a profiler or something, and he says that when someone’s smiling a lot, it means that something happened to make them happy.”

“Yeah, I saw something that made me happy alright,” you said lighter than you intended, before a wave of realization washed over you. maybe that wasn’t... appropriate to say in front of a fourth grader. Your mind raced as you searched for a safe response.

“What does that mean?” She asked, you stammered and stuttered and asked. “Well, uh-- Hey would you look at that its almost time for me to go.” She looked at you curiously, clearly pondering what you’d said. There was a peculiar wisdom in her gaze, and you quickly ushered her away.

After a final glance around the apartment, you slipped on your coat and grabbed your bag, feeling the familiar excitement of stepping out into the bustling world again. The hallway felt cozy as you made your way to the elevator, your footsteps echoing softly against the polished floor.

As the elevator doors slid open with a soft chiming sound, you stepped inside, your mind drifting to thoughts of your next tutoring session and the plans you had for the weekend. Just as the doors were about to close, they jolted back open, and a man stepped in—tall, with tousled dark hair and a warm smile that lit up his face. He glanced over at you, and you instinctively looked up, catching his gaze. In that moment, time seemed to stand still amid the commotion of your lives outside.

A smile broke across your face, a soft, inviting expression that mirrored his own. And without thinking, you spoke up, "You came in this morning, but you're leaving this afternoon." you said, without thinking. It sounded creep to me, but he understood what I meant. He nodded, "Yeah my job it uh-- I work for the uh-- Behavioral Analysis Unit for the FBI." your jaw drops, and he looks, but not limited to, concerned. "Is everything--" "Yeah its just uhm, funny enough my student, I think she was talking about you today-- I teach, so," you mutter out, letting out a breathy laugh.

"She 'profiler..ed'? me, I guess. I was smiling and she knew that something happened this morning to make me smile. She said she got it from you," he looked in complete and udder awe as he let out a chuckle. he nodded, then thinking for a bit. The elevator dinged, and instead of parting ways there, you guys walked the parking lot together. "Anderson? The little one," He said, making the motion with his hand to the side of his hip. You nodded your head in agreement. "Yeah she's really bright," he adds with a smile.

You agree with him, and look at him with curiosity in your eye. "Why were you smiling this morning?". The question lingers through the air, as he gives that laugh, that laugh, that he gave this morning that you almost risked everything for, filling the silence.

"You were staring, really hard." You feel your whole world shatter in embarrassment as those five words escape his lips, you laugh out of complete shock and horror as he can't help but begin to join you out of response to your reaction. "It's okay, it was just funny. Plus, I was too.". You let that stay in the air for a bit— those gorgeous hazel eyes looking down into yours, you smiled. And that's all you did. He walked you to your car, making sure you got there safely. And before he could walk off to his own, you spoke out. "Hey would you— happen to have a card? Just incase I wanna talk to you about, profiling or, the right buttons on the elevator." You say, realizing how stupid that sounding coming out. But he didn't think so, not at all. "Or incase I just wanna, talk to you..." Your voice fading out as he walked back over to you. Spencer Reid.

"I'll be expecting a call from you, you know. About, the right buttons on the elevator." He smiled, chuckling out. You nodded your head. 'will do...' you thought to yourself as you turned the engine on, letting the rumbling of your car fill your ears for a moment.

oh thank, God, to being late.

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