#me n spencer when autism

[vatelixx]

The enormity of my desire (disgusts me),

Very very early seasons (1 — start of 2) Spencer Reid x afab!BAU!reader

SMUT!! (and fluff, some angst in relation to Spencer’s past because it can never be too happy, we’re not allowed nice things here). first times & explorations of intimacy.

──── autistic spencer (it’s a central theme to the plot), reader is actually morally good (for once).

Warnings: sub spencer (what did u even expect?), heavy corruption kink, first time for Spencer (all i do is sit around and think about how i’d like to devirgin that genius), HEAAVY praise kink, very very inexperienced Spencer, slight? oral fixation, they’re both just rlly down bad (i told u i would write something light, i delivered), Reader is whipped, Spencer is sooo much worse. Biblical references, Religious imagery, i think i talk about math equations???? And random metaphors/complexes.

w.c: 4k

a/n: i rlly wanted to explore aspects of spencer that criminal minds swept under the rug (cough cough his undiagnosed autism, cough cough his social exclusion, cough cough his crippling fear of forever being alone). Next upload will prob be heavy angst/no smut post-prison spencer (god help me please, i must be a masochist for the way i make myself suffer)

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There’s a lot Spencer hasn’t done.

He knows he’s behind, that he never quite caught up when it came to the taboo of sex and intimacy. Everything, everything, he’s ever had has been centred around exclusion, alienation, he feels like he’s lived on pause. Frozen, never advancing, stuck on ‘go’. Touch isn’t easy for him, interpersonal relationships are worse. He’s different, god he’s heard that his entire life. ‘You’re not weird, you’re just… different’, but maybe he is weird. Maybe his whole existence is just one big cosmic fuck you, because he’s missed out on so much, so much that he can’t understand, comprehend, act out against. Falling behind; this is the only area of life where he continuously comes up short, inexperienced, naive, he’s not used to being incompetent.

He’s never experienced want the way others do. He could never just hook up, fall into the body of another, expose them to the vulnerable elements of his stature. Open himself up to scrutiny. He might be a genius, he might be intellectually advanced, accepted into a multitude of ivy leagues before he was old enough to vote, but there’s drawbacks to his success. Social awkwardness, an inability to blend, mould, be one of the crowd. Sometimes he wishes he was average, something grey and mundane, so far reduced from the person he is now— it would all be plainly simple.

But he’s not, he’s not. So, this is the weight he has to bare for the brain he never asked for.

Pyrrhic victory, he’ll always be renowned for his intelligence. ‘You’re going to change the world kid,’ maybe, but simultaneously, he’ll never get to experience said world. There’s a chance he’ll always be on the outside, watching normal people gravitate towards each other. Live dreary lives of domesticated simplicity. Stacked bills, arguments over money and parenting techniques. Going to bed angry, only to turn around, mid-night, and resolve it, to not sleep on bad blood. To take them off the couch, to settle into predestined sides of the mattress.

There’s not enough possessions in the world he’d sacrifice just to experience love.

Hedgehog dilemma, the challenges of human intimacy. The hedgehogs want to move closer, to preserve heat during cold. But, they are forced, biologically cursed to remain apart, in order to prevent themselves from harming each other. Spencer doesn’t want to be hurt, to hurt, it’s a morbid byproduct of his upbringing; all he ever endured was mockery.

He thought he’d never get to experience the physical, carnal aspects of existence. And sure, he made peace with the notion, accepted the consequences of being born atypical. Learnt to live without.

But then, oh then there was you. Pretty, intellectual you who quite literally tipped his world on it’s axis. Upheaved the most stable of routines. New to the BAU, he wanted you to last. To stay around, endure the worst of the job. If only for his selfish benefit of orbiting in your presence.

He remembers how it all started: Detroit, another case, more budget cuts, forced proximity that sent you spiralling into a shared bed for the night.

“You’re my favourite person in the team.” you admitted, “And I know that’s dumb, because we’ve spoken the least, but… you’re just, so you. That’s a good thing by the way, a really really good thing.”

He couldn’t quite believe you were talking about him. Spencer, who spilt coffee, and slipped into ceaseless tangents about obscure information. Spencer, who walked into walls when you were around, stumbling over his sentences before deftly, very astutely, giving up, walking away mid-conversation. He wore sweater-vests and colourful mismatched socks, it’s not like he was going to be crowned ‘white boy of the month’.

“Not dumb.” Spencer had responded, shifting closer to tangle further into the warm mess of this accidental situation. “That’s good. I like being me.” he mumbled. “Sometimes…. sometimes it sucks. But that’s okay. I think it’s okay?”

He moved to press his face into the crook of your neck, but you were faster, gathering him by tousled hair, forcing him to look you in the eye.

Oh.

“Please. Please.” he whispered, breaking apart, fracturing, “Please like me. And more than in a weird, ‘just friends or coworkers’ way.”

You did. You do. He should’ve kissed you then, but maybe he was scared, maybe he couldn’t quite discern his feelings, separate the logic from the emotional. So he waited, waited, waited until now. Your third date, you take him to an exhibition within a science centre: replica models of the solar system, filling rooms up, papier-mâché sculptures illuminated by light.

Best date ever. You listen, even when he’s rambling about planets, when he’s pointing out that yes, Jupiter’s density is less than water. That, technically, it would float in a bathtub, if one was built to accommodate its size. You don’t care that he’s not exactly the staple-piece for conventionally attractive males. That he’s nerdish, and awkward, and so so inexperienced when it comes to this.

In his apartment, later, much later, he looks at you, looks at you like you’re the one who just solved the fucking Riemann hypothesis.

“What do you want the most? Like,… if you could ask for one thing.” you say, and god, Spencer loves when you pose these deep, hypothetical questions. When you make him think, because you, you are the biggest challenge to his intellect yet.

You. He wants to say. But he settles for ‘Being remembered,’ instead. He works to untangle layers of fabric, your scarf, your jacket, letting out an exasperated laugh when he meets your amused gaze. “Right now though? I think I’d settle for kissing you.”

You cup his jaw, tracing your fingers along the sharp curve, and god he has perfect anatomy. “Settle huh? You should be more appreciative.”

He leans forward to press a chaste kiss against your lips. Drawing away for a moment, just to return because he’s never had this before. Because for the first time in his life, he gets it. He gets physical attraction, even if it took time. He’s kissed, been kissed, yes. But he could count those moments on one hand, and if you asked how many he truly enjoyed, he’d be left with no fingers raised.

“Believe me, i’m very appreciative…”

This isn’t like before, what he felt in the past; he expected something monotone, flighty, a brief fleeting moment of satisfaction. Means to an end. No, it’s actually the best thing he’s ever experienced, and he’s going to become so insufferable after this, because he’s just found out he is very very into kissing.

Correction: he’s very into kissing you.

In the moment between parting, and touching again, he assumes you to be divinity personified. Spencer has never been religious, but something of this magnitude should be canonised. He wants to ask you. Ask you when you became this beautiful. When you became the person he needs to kiss a second time, kiss a third time, kiss until his lips go numb.

A shaky inhale, a pause. “I hope… I hope that it was okay - I mean, it was good for me. Really, really good. Um—“ to be honest, he’s just glad he didn’t say thankyou.

“Yeah, Spence. That was… wow.” you draw your bottom lip between teeth, press into tissued flesh. Jesus Christ. “Wanna try again?”

Yes yes yes yes. He looks at you, pupils blown obscenely out of proportion. Part of him wants to say, ‘why didn’t we do this sooner?’ But that’s not fair; he’s only ready now. Now that he feels, now that he might be a little in love with you.

“Please,” is his answer, and then he’s catching your face in the palms of his hand, tugging your lips back to his, because admittedly, they have ached in the long, extensive period you were apart (53 seconds).

This time it deepens and Spencer sees stars. It’s an astronomical phenomenon, something interstellar— and god, he’s relating kissing to space. They should just tape the word ‘virgin’ to his back and call it a day.

There’s soft little breathy sighs escaping his mouth now, bleeding into yours. And yeah, spontaneous combustion might be a real threat. Actually no, it would hardly be spontaneous; there’s a clear, clear cause, and it just so happens to be your ruinous lips.

This is an entirely new facet of the human experience. The kiss is electric; he’s always been partial toward physics, and right now his veins carry an alternating current.

You know, he could probably write a thesis based on this.

You both stumble back back back until he’s hitting a wall, and yes, thankyou. He’s making all sorts of sounds he can’t justify, and it’s a supernova, an infinite black pool of— oh, he thinks he might die, ascend, transcend, when you press your thumb against his chin, hold your lips at just a little slant from his. Force him to wait there.

“Please,” he’s never been above begging. A worthy sacrifice, one he’ll certainly repeat again because you return to the kiss, and the world around him dissolves.

You’ve got one hand tangled in his hair. Tousled auburn, fingers sinking into strands, pushing all the way down to the root. The other is still cupping his face, keeping him close, keeping him selfishly close actually.

“Spence,” you murmur. And yes. Yes. He likes that. The way his name sounds rolling off your tongue, like it was destined to be there. Like he was destined to be yours.

His world is ending. So is yours. Fuck it, he presses himself against your thigh, and ohmygodohmygod. He’s being loud, he’s actually being so criminally loud right now because apparently he’s the most whorish virgin to ever exist.

“I lied, I lied,” he admits between messy kisses, “When you asked what I wanted the most? It’s not to be remembered, well it is, its on the list. But—“ he groans, kisses you again because talking interrupts matters that are more important. Like your lips.

“I wanna cum.”

Eloquent.

Spencer Reid being dirty? Oh, it’s hot, it’s so hot to reduce someone to such an obscene state. To reduce him, the boyish fumbling nerd (who just so happens to be the most beautiful person in existence) to such a degrading mess.

Still, there’s shock. Not because he said it (you greatly appreciate the indecent things falling from those pretty lips right now), but because—

“You’ve never? Haven’t even experienced it once? By yourself?”

He should be embarrassed, but his lips are red, his eyes are glassy, and the bulge in his pants is straining to be touched. “Never,” he sighs shakilly. “Never, and i’m— i’m starting to understand why it’s so popular.”

He whimpers, pushes himself against your thigh, because the friction, yes. “Is that weird? Please don’t think i’m weird. Because I’m really, really weird. Just maybe… not in that way?”

It’s never been enough. His body sometimes feels numb to the touch, and yet still so very overstimulated. Like he manually blocks himself from feeling, already prepared for the flinch. How does he explain that life hasn’t been kind to him? That he hates his body because of what people made it out to be when he was a child. Stripping him naked, tying him to a goalpost, always the underdog. The one to be targeted, tormented.

“It’s actually kinda hot,” you interrupt his thoughts, and just because you’re evil, corrupt, the worst, you press your thigh harder against his clothed cock, palm covering his mouth when a plethora of whiny sounds escape his mouth.

It’s performative, really. Alone in his apartment, there’s no need for noise control. So when your thumb slips between parted, swollen lips, he knows to suck. The average human hand has between 10,000 and 10 million bacteria, and Spencer does not actually give a fuck anymore.

“To think that you’ve never even felt what it’s like. That you’re gonna feel it with me for the first time. I get to see that shit— god, you’re going to look so fucking pretty for me.”

You draw your thumb out of his mouth, and he has the audacity to whine.

He’s never wanted anything more in his entire life. It’s all tertiary now. Only this matters.

“Please don’t praise me—“ he protests, “I’ll probably finish in my pants.”

“Praise kink, noted.”

You laugh, and he can only groan, curse existence for being this cruel to his overworked, undervalued body. “Don’t— don’t laugh. You’re not supposed to laugh, that can heighten performance anxiety. Increase insecurity, and…” he sighs, “You do not care. Sadistic tendencies, noted.”

“Shut up. Wanna see you.” you say, and he’s just muttering breathless mhm’s, too delirious to function; his body is betraying the last iota of self-control like the little whore it apparently is.

His sweater comes off first, then his top. Discarded fabric, his raised arms when you mutter a candid ‘up’, giving way to exposed skin. In response? Your pupils dilate. Spencer knows because he’s analysing, profiling. If you hate him like this, he’s fairly certain he’ll drag himself into a self-dug early grave. He wishes he was being melodramatic. That your approval didn’t have such a substantial impact on his carefully-constructed ego. But, oh, it does. It does.

Thin, with a long, defined torso, he blushes, rose blemished skin, when your hands drag across his stomach. He’d love to say he reacts sanely, suavely. Urbane to your touch. But that would be a total, discreditable lie. Instead, his back arches, seeking contact, following the path of your fingertips with pitiful desperation. He feels malleable, willing to bend and contort, if only to feel more.

“How can you not think you’re pretty, Spence?” His pants are gone next, then his stained boxers, fabric borderline sheer now, soaked through with pre-cum.

Spencer feels betrayed. His body never responds, not to his own hands, not to his own thoughts. And yet, the moment you’re on him, he’s a live-wire. It’s sick, heinous, double-crossing. Maybe it’s purposeful, done just to spite him. Figures.

“Holy shit, look at you. Look at how perfect you are.” Spencer wants to object, because he distinctly told you not to praise him. However,.. right now, the lights are on but nobody is home. Brain-death, he’s certainly in a vegetative state.

“Ohmygodohmygod,” he whimpers, because no amount of knowledge about human anatomy and physiology could prepare him for how he feels under your touch. No amount of education in the psychology of relationships could inform him of how viscerally wrong the way you look at him feels.

Because it’s not wrong, not all. It’s the most right he’s ever felt, and he’ll tell you that if you’ll just keep it up.

The sounds he’s making are phonographic, lewd, you’ve given up on trying to stifle them now. Where have you been hiding? Your eyes fall, and he wants to blush away from the exhibiting gaze, but he’s just…. too far gone; the thought of your touch outweighs any previous reticence. Then, oh then, you drop to your knees, and shit. He expected your thigh, maybe your hand if he was lucky, not—

This. Your mouth, your tongue, your pretty lips; god, god, is this a sin? Because if it is, he’ll take it.

“Please,” he whines, and he can’t look anymore because the sight alone is going to send him over the edge. He’s gripping the wall, scrambling scrambling for purchase, because he’s trying not to grip you, but how exactly does he keep this respectful?

He’s pretty sure they’re past that, considering your mouth is currently wrapped around his cock, and he’s debauched.

You want this, you want him, he feels like he’s transcended humanity, like he’s become someone, anyone and anything, that deserves the way you’re taking him apart, piece by piece. In the aftermath, he hopes you don’t leave a single ounce of him intact.

“Wanna kiss you. Oh— oh oh,” he’s sobbing now, “Come back here. Miss your mouth— even if it’s,” he looks down and that’s a mistake. “Please.”

Of course it would be Spencer to disrupt the best (and admittedly only) head of his life because he needs you closer.

You oblige, raising from your knees, and Spencer thinks it might be sacrilegious. But then again, he feels religion in your touch so it can’t be too profane. Maybe? He’s not sure, he’s not sure and it doesn’t matter. Ethics and morality have long since disintegrated, sins are engrained into humankind. He almost wants to thank Eve for tearing into the apple, because it’s allowed this irreverence to occur.

Spencer blindly follows you through the apartment, stumbling and muttering until he can collapse against the bed. Baring his pretty neck as his head hits the bedframe. Tangled in sheets, draped over his lap, his deft fingers run across your waist, mapping out the structure of your frame. If only to remember, recite this act of blasphemy.

“Spence,” you whisper, and then his lips are crashing into yours, stealing breath, stealing sanity. He whimpers, murmurs a protest when you draw back, and you can only laugh. “Lets get you off, yeah? You wanna feel an orgasm, pretty boy?”

“Yes, yes please. That would uh— yes.” he’s not even sure how he’s conscious right now. His body, god his body, has endured more pleasure in the last hour than it has for the majority of his life. Your hands scathe, and Spencer is willing to indefinitely burn, if just to feel them one more time.

You only stop to take off your clothes, and surely there needs to be prep? To reaffirm, he knows anatomy, the correct procedure, how the transgression is supposed to occur. And yet, that’s from a clinical, objective mindset. Do this, do that, etc etc. Nothing works out like that in practice.

You’re so wet, panties stained through, he spares a moment to run his fingers across your thighs, hand slipping beneath fabric to graze your clit. The moan that follows has him distracted, thumb tracing circlets, over and over until you’re pulling back to return the balance. The balance, which admittedly is skewed, tipped scales, you’re on top. He falls to the weight of your influence.

And yeah, he’s more than fine with that. Jesus, you drag your panties down, down your thighs, your legs, then they’re reaching your ankles, pooling there for a moment before they’re being discarded, tossed somewhere on his floor — leaving behind a souvenir that yes, yes this happened.

“I can’t,” he says, burying his face into your shoulder when you take him. It’s slow, sinking onto his cock like every inch of warmth will destroy him. Maybe it will. Maybe he doesn’t care, because he deserves this. He deserves to feel after so much repression.

Or maybe, maybe he’s just become the biggest slut known to mankind. Likely.

Your body presses against his, and he thinks he’s going to disintegrate, because he feels so good. He understands now, he understands why people do this. Why it’s integral to the function of most. This is the best day of his life. This. Is. The. Best. Day. Of. His. Life.

There’s this noise, this pathetically loud whimper when you start to roll your hips— and oh your body is wet against him, and you’re so tight, and it’s perfect because he doesn’t have to do anything.

He can just sit here, look pretty, and cry.

He knows he’s a giver, that he’d bleed himself dry for you. It’s a curse, he supposes: so willing to bend backwards for the satisfaction of the people he trusts. But, this is foreign, and he wants to watch you, aimlessly stare, dumb and empty-headed as you wield his body like a weapon. Turn him into something perniciously yours.

Spencer has no reference for what an orgasm is supposed to feel like, and yeah, he’s really good at guessing in these type of situations. Because he’s rolling his thumb over your clit again, and he wants to draw it into his mouth, to see you laid out across bedsheets, writhing, unable to do anything but suffocate him with your thighs.

You clench around him, back arched, releasing a series of strained moans. With one hand tangled in his dishevelled hair, the other pressed against his chest, your face contorts, your body stiffens. There’s no way his incessant whimpering just got you off?

Okay. So you like him desperate. Point taken.

“Please— please, wanna cum. Wanna feel it so bad,” he’s slurring over his words, sentences punctured by devastating whimpers. And look at him, asking for permission, waiting even though his body has been teetering on the edge for so long now.

“Shh, shh..” you press your forehead against his, and he melts. Reoccurring theme. His hand grips your jaw, thumb pushed firmly against your chin, keeping you close. “You wanna cum for me, baby? Gonna give me your first?”

“Mhm— mhm…” is all he can say. When you pick up your pace, he has to burrow his face into the crook of your neck, whimpers messy and broken off, suppressed against your warm skin.

“Oh. Oh…” he repeats, again. Like there’s anything else he could utter, because this is earth-shattering.

It’s the sun, and all eight planets combined, and the universe collapsing in on itself, and he’s bucking, squirming, releasing into you, spilling deep.

He sobs. Breaks down. Because it’s so so good, and he can’t believe he ever deprived his body of this.

Neediest whore to ever exist, apparently.

It takes him a while to come back. Longer to regain motor function, to sink into present day. Life, and expectations, and everything, everything, your touch eradicated.

“Just… just stay like this?” he asks, collapsing against your body after he’s drawn out of you. There’s mess, evidence of your ministrations, but cleanliness seems futile when he’s blissed out, caught in a post-orgasmic haze that yes yes yes he needed so badly.

You card your hands through his hair, watch the way he stares up at you, large, widened eyes, chin resting against your chest. “Hi,” he mutters dumbly.

“Spence,” Spence, Spence, Spence. He could drown himself in that nickname.

“Yeah?” he breathes out.

“You we’re so good—“

He rolls away from you, finding a home for his face in the pillow. “Stop. Stop.” he groans, “Don’t do that. You’re going to destroy me. I’m not… equipped for this, for you. Someone should just sedate me, put me out of my misery, a coma sounds like—“

He tilts his head to the side, relinquishing, “Okay. Sorry. Meltdown over. Can we shower? Then maybe do this again? Which will make the shower inconsequential, I suppose. There’s a new documentary I want to watch, and oh, you still haven’t seen the third Star Wars—“

He’s happy, content, over the fucking moon, to be silenced with your lips. “Yeah,” he murmurs, hand interlocking with yours as you both fall back against the mattress, “Let’s do this again.”

[auroralwriting]

wait for your love

spencer reid x fem!liaison!reader

after joining the bau eight months ago, you and spencer quickly became close. too close, to be just friends, that is.

word count: 2k

warnings: comfort and fluff, no use of y/n, mutual pining, (un)reciprocated feelings, spencer's love-blind, he only likes your touch, vague hints at spencer's autism, playful flirting

Spencer Reid was all you'd ever wanted. He was a sweet, smart, charming, a gentleman. He understood your thoughts and feelings. He made time for you, and actually, the two of you spent a great deal of time together on a daily basis. It was rare you'd go more than two days without seeing the resident genius.

You were even the rare exception to his physical touch boundaries-- he couldn't keep his hands off of you. Holding your hand or interlocking your pinkies was a common form of touch you shared. Hugs, cuddling, and sharing beds wasn't uncommon, either. Usually on cases, you roomed together, even if you had separate rooms. You were Spencer Reid's solace, even more so-- simply his person.

The only issue? He was just your best friend.

For as close as the two of you were, no, you weren't dating. No, you had no clue how he felt about you. Sometimes it felt like he reciprocated your feelings, but then he'd go and call you something like his best friend. So, maybe he didn't reciprocate the feelings. But that was fine, you were still in his life and he was in yours. That was all that mattered, right?

You barreled into Spencer's hotel room the moment he opened the door from your rapid knocks.

Spencer watched as you flopped face-first on his bed with a chuckle, "Hello to you, too." He walked over to where you laid, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Can you guys please profile this douche any quicker?" You groaned into his pillow, the whine of your voice making Spencer smile. "I'm seriously done with the press on this one. I cannot take another call from stupid Heather Young."

"Who's Heather Young?" Spencer asked as you flipped yourself over quickly, sitting up to face him.

Begrudgingly, you pointed to the small TV that sat in front of his bed. "She's some nosey, obsessive, and pestering news reporter who wants the full coverage story on this case." You sighed. Heather Young truly was testing every limit you had. Her phone calls boarded on stalker, at least one an hour, if not more. You'd tried to block her number, but she found another phone to use. "She won't leave me alone. I swear, Spence, every hour this woman calls!"

Spencer knew all too well the struggles of being a liaison, and this was one of them. Dealing with obnoxious reporters and pestering questions would frustrate him to no end. That's why he admired you so much, for your tolerance and patience.

Your phone rang, and you groaned, turning back over and letting yourself fall face-first back into Spencer’s pillow. He chuckled, grabbing your phone and shutting it off so you wouldn’t receive any more calls for the night. “See? Problem solved,”

“Until six a.m when she calls me trying to get an inside scoop,” your muffled voice whined.

“You’re so grumpy,” Spencer chuckled, leaning on his arm beside you. “Come on, don’t let some stupid news reporter get you like this.”

Maybe if you'd looked closer, harder, you would've noticed the adoration in the genius's eyes. However, you just rolled your eyes and scoffed at his words. "M not grumpy,"

Spencer chuckled, poking your side teasingly. "You definitely are," He chuckled at the way you squeaked, shooting upward at the ticklish sensation.

"Spence!"

"If I were to look up the definition for grumpy, your name would be its definition." Spencer continued to softly poke at your ribs and sides, causing giggles to spew from your lips like an endless waterfall. It was music to Spencer's ears.

"Spencer!" You tried to whine, but it came out as laughter instead.

After a minute or so of his relentless attack, Spencer eased. "See? Not so grumpy anymore. I just know the grumpy cure."

"Tickling me is not a cure," You argued, crossing your arms as you sat criss-crossed in front of him. When Spencer went to reach forward, you sucked in a breath, "Okay, okay! Consider me cured!"

Spencer just chuckled at your words. "Admit it, you were grumpy. I could tell based on the way you threw yourself onto my bed." Spencer joked. He wasn't wrong. His hand, instead of poking, found its way to your side, but it gently caressed you in a sweet motion.

With another roll of your eyes, you smiled, letting Spencer know wordlessly he was right. His touch was soft and comforting. Spencer's touch, no matter how it's given, was the cure.

The moment was broken when your phone buzzed, a text from JJ lighting up your screen. For a moment, ignoring it was a highly considerable option, until you realized you were still on a case, and it could be important.

"Who's that?" Spencer asked, looking over your shoulder as you grabbed your phone from his bedside table.

"JJ," You simply stated.

Where are you? The text read.

With Spence, need anything?

Why can't you ever stay in your own rooms, SMH!! Wanted to see if you're ready to give the profile tomorrow?

You chuckled at her text, As ready as I'll ever be

KK, I won't bother you two lovebirds anymore! Enjoy Spencer time!!!

Spencer grinned at the texts. "You don't think she's going to read into that, do you?"

"She already does," You shrugged, setting your phone back down. "The whole team always asks, 'When are you and Spencer getting together?,' 'When are you finally gonna date?,' blah, blah, blah."

With an eyebrow now raised, Spencer felt himself become surprised at your response. While he speculated there was some sort of, well, suspicion about the two of you, he was never on the receiving end of any of it. Apparently, that's because you were. "How many people have asked about us? Just the team?"

"Just them," You paused, considering his question. "Wait, you don't know about this?"

Spencer became more confused at your tone, "No, I don't."

"They think we're madly in love or something," you chuckled, trying to hide your true feelings, "talking about our future little genius-liaison babies."

The genius's mind became scattered, flooded with images of the two of you that his mind created in a moments notice. Children, marriage, love. It felt so surreal picturing you, yet so right. "Did you ever deny it?"

"For the first few months," You confirmed with a solid nod. "I just don't really entertain it anymore. I don't see them stopping anytime soon."

Spencer nodded, clearing his throat. "You haven't let them think it's true though, right?"

"Why?" You asked, his words confusing you. "Is there some sort of problem being with me?"

You felt defensive at his words. Maybe this was his way of telling you the feelings aren't reciprocated. Maybe, all along, you were playing the fool. This stupid, silly little mistake of a crush was mere moments from destroying your closest friendship. You wished you could swallow this whole conversation down like bad medicine and pretend it never happened.

Spencer paused for a moment, your question making his heart drop. "Why would you ask me that?" He softly asked.

"Just--" You sighed, turning over to lay on your side that faced away from him. As much as this sucked, you couldn't see yourself leaving him, either. "forget about it, Spence."

You were upset now, that much was apparent. Spencer couldn't tell if it was about the team, or his response. He wasn't good at talking to girls, let alone about romance. Spencer softly laid on his side, wrapping his arm around your middle and trying to gently pull you into him.

"Spence, it's really fine, just--" You knew this play. You knew he was going to give you the softest affection to try and get you to open up.

"It's not fine, you're upset." Spencer observed, a gentle firmness behind his voice. He hated it when you closed in on yourself.

Adamant about not moving, Spencer realized his efforts were useless; you weren't going to budge. So, he scooted closer until front was pressed against your back, practically spooning you. When your body went rigid against his, Spencer felt disappointment seep into his heart. You always melted into him. Ever so softly, Spencer let his free hand come up and begin to massage your scalp, slowly playing with your hair ever so often.

Like memory, your body began to relax into his, just the way he wanted it to. Of course, it was against your better judgement, but soft moments with Spencer Reid was what you lived for.

Spencer smiled against your shoulder, his efforts weren't so fruitless after all. "You're so stubborn," Spencer mumbled into your shoulder.

"M not stubborn," you muttered in reply, heat rising to your cheeks at his words.

"Yes, you are." Spencer said, giving you a small squeeze. It made you giggle in reply, making Spencer's heart thump loudly in his chest. Could you hear it, too? "You never answered me before,"

You hummed, "Hmm?"

Spencer said your name slowly, a growl of a warning. He needed to fix whatever happened. There was no way he was going to let you stay upset at him.

"I asked you that because.." you hesitated. "I don't know. would there be a problem being with me?"

At your soft words, Spencer realized what had happened. He'd been a fool and insulted you. How could he ever do such a thing? "Of course there wouldn't be a problem being with you," he breathed softly into your ear.

"Then.." you paused, "then why aren't we, I don't know, together?" You rolled over to face him. "I mean, we do this," Your hands waved in the air, motioning to your current position with the genius. "We're always together. We even sleep over! Even the team asks me why we aren't together and--"

Spencer felt shock flood his system at your confession. Did this mean what he thought it meant? Was he reading this right?

"Just, why? Is it me?"

Taking a deep breath, Spencer choked down his fears. "I've been.. scared."

"Scared?" Your desperation morphed into one of curiosity and confusion at his words.

"Scared," Spencer confirmed softly. "I didn't know how you felt. I didn't know if you even wanted this.. us,"

Humor slowly filled the situation. Maybe you'd both been fools, but not in the way you'd originally thought. "Do you really think I cuddle with all my best friends?"

Spencer raised a brow at your words. Yeah, he felt unbelievably stupid. How could he not have seen it before? "No, I suppose not." He meekly replied, a small smile growing on his lips. "Does that mean you-you really want to be my girlfriend?"

A chuckle escaped your lips, "Spencer Reid, you ought to know better than to assume. Don't you know what that makes you?"

He smiled in return, rephrasing his question. "You want to be my girlfriend."

"I do," you smiled.

"I want to be your boyfriend," Spencer replied with a now wide grin on his face.

You felt your heart skip a beat, "I want that, too."

"Do you want to be my girlfriend?" Spencer asked, the question feeling like one of a middle-school boy. Nothing else felt right to say, though. Nothing felt as sweet and innocent as this moment did.

A finger patted your chin as you faked deep thought. "I don't know, it's a lot to consider."

Spencer let out a small laugh, propping himself up. He moved over top of you, his weight now on his forearms as you stared up at him. "Oh, really now?"

"Yeah, being tied down is a lot, you know?"

He leaned down closer to you, so close you could feel the tip of his nose grazing your own. "Tied down," he chuckled with amusement.

"That begs your question; should I be your girlfriend?"

"I say yes," Spencer said, his lips mere centimeters from your own.

Staring down at his lips, you whisper, "I say yes, too."

Like a moment of explosion, your lips meshed perfectly with Spencer's. It felt like everything you'd dreamt of thus far. Poor Spencer, he was in absolute bliss. He felt like he'd been waiting this day his whole life and another. It was magic, heaven, and unbridled passion.

"Stay here tonight?" Spencer whispered as he pulled back, lips tingling with the feeling of you.

"Always," you smiled, pulling him in for another kiss.

[fear-is-truth]

Hi i dont know if requests are open or not feel free to ignore this if you are busy!

I was wondering if you could do Evans with an autistic reader? You have the best writing ever and am sure whatever you write will be amazing

I receptly got diagnosed with autism and am starting to get used to it but the hardest part of all haves been finding people who accepts me this way or finding representation and i thought it would be comforting to read your writing about something like this

Have a good days and take care!♡

⋆𐙚 ₊ the evans x autistic reader .ᐟ

ft. tate langdon ‧ kit walker ‧ frat!kyle spencer ‧ james patrick march ‧ cult leader!kai anderson ‧ peter maximoff ‧ colin zabel ‧ warren lipka

a/n: enjoy, pookie !!

⟢ 𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐃𝐎𝐍.

tate would rely on how you explain your experiences and base his reactions on that. If you mention sensory sensitivities, he’d attempt to avoid triggers—but sometimes he fucks up.

he would appreciate your bluntness or literal way of speaking. especially when you’re talking about morbid stuff.

if you have hyperfixations or special interests, tate would listen to you super intently, because he loves seeing you passionate about something.

if anyone belittled you or made ignorant comments, tate wouldn’t even hesitate to lash out (verbally or worse) in your defense.

⟢ 𝐊𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐄𝐑.

he would approach your autism with patience and a strong desire to learn how to support you better.

he would genuinely value the way you see the world, often marveling at your unique insights or the connections you make. “i never would’ve thought of it that way. that’s incredible.”

kit would happily adapt to your routines or help you stick to them. if you liked having breakfast at the exact same time every day, he’d join you.

if you ever feel self-conscious about your traits, kit would be the first to remind you that they make you who you are and that he adore every part of you.

he’d be great at recognizing when you’re overwhelmed or anxious.

would fully support your interests, even if they’re niche or kinda obscure.

⟢ pre death .ᐟ 𝐊𝐘𝐋𝐄 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐑.

kyle would never see your autism as a challenge; instead, he’d see it as part of what made you special. he would be endlessly supportive and sweet.

when you had a meltdown, kyle would stay super calm and be there for you in any way you needed. he’d hold you if you wanted or just sit nearby.

if anyone judged you or made rude comments, he would be the first to defend you.

he’d think your stimming was adorable. he’d play with your fidget toys or pick up new ones when he saw them in stores.

if you struggled with social interactions, kyle would subtly guide you without making you feel embarrassed. later in private, he’d quietly explain someone’s tone if it confused you.

if you were overwhelmed by sensory input, he would guide you to a quiet place or shield you from crowds.

⟢ 𝐉𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇.

james is a stickler for his own routines but would seamlessly incorporate yours. if you needed structure, he’d find ways to create schedules that align with both your needs.

he would literally, in his pretentious fake brahms accent, tell you that he finds your mind “simply fascinating.”

being detail-oriented, he would quickly notice if certain stimuli upset you. the perfect lighting, temperature, or ambiance tailored to your liking.

if you liked eating the same thing every day, he’d have mrs evers serve it on the finest china, him saying, “consistency, my dear, is the backbone of sophistication.”

⟢ cult leader .ᐟ 𝐊𝐀𝐈 𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍.

kai would scoff at the label, dismissing it as just another way society tries to put people in boxes. he’d say something condescending like, “you’re not autistic; you’re just you. stop letting woke leftists try to define you.”

but deep down, he’d be fascinated by the way your mind works. even though your honesty and blunt nature would annoy him, especially if it challenged his authority or poked holes in his ideas.

if you had a special interest or hyperfixation, kai would find a way to exploit it. he’d definitely rope you into doing something for him.

he would be visibly irritated with any stimming behaviours you had, like rocking or fidgeting. he’d snap at you, “can you stop that? it’s distracting.” over time, he might learn to tolerate it—or not.

during one of your sensory overloads or meltdowns, he’d get visibly frustrated, telling you that, “you need to get your shit together.” but eventually, kai would just leave you alone to work through it.

would intentionally push you into situations that he knows make you uncomfortable, framing it as a way to “toughen you up.”

⟢ 𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐀𝐗𝐈𝐌𝐎𝐅𝐅.

peter would absolutely adore every aspect of you, including your autism. he’d constantly remind you how fascinating your mind is.

if you had a hyperfixation, peter would dive right into it with you. whether it was a niche video game, a tv show fandom, or collecting random objects, he’d get so into it just to make you happy. he’d joke, “so, when do i get to be the world’s second-best expert on this? after you, of course.”

peter wouldn’t be fazed by your bluntness or honesty—in fact, he’d find it super relatable because he’s just as blunt as you. “finally, someone who just tells it like it is. you’re my kinda person.”

if anyone mocked or misunderstood you, peter would use his superspeed to tie their shoelaces together or give them a wedgie.

⟢ 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐍 𝐙𝐀𝐁𝐄𝐋.

whatever you were hyperfocused on, colin would be your biggest fan. whether it was a niche topic or a hobby, he’d ask questions and letting you infodump. if it was something like a favorite tv show fandom, he’d take the time to binge every season and try to impress you with his knowledge.

colin would pay attention to the little things that made you comfortable and surprise you with them. for instance if you liked soft fabrics or weighted blankets, he’d go the extra mile to find them for you.

⟢ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐄𝐍 𝐋𝐈𝐏𝐊𝐀.

warren might occasionally fuck up and say the wrong thing, especially if he didn’t fully grasp your sensory needs. but he’d sincerely apologise and try to make it up to you.

he would get a kick out of your bluntness, especially since he’s not exactly a fan of sugarcoating himself.

disclaimer: i did a lil research on autism but i’m still not totally sure if i got it right >.<

 fear-is-truth 2024 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.

[hyperfixatedoncrimminalminds]

Can I request an Aaron Hotchner x autistic!daughter young adult ideally but any age. Or even she’s on the team and he’s a father figure to her because her own is so ableist. My dad is so ableist and I have so much autistic trauma from him even though my autism is from him too. He thinks that gives him even more rights to say whatever he wants to me and bully me even more. I just need to know what it feels like to have a good dad who cares about my autism. Who cares about me ❤️❤️

Aaron Hotchner x Autistic! Young adult reader

Of course I can, I'm sorry you have to deal with that, my parents have trouble understanding my Autism as well but they are getting better. I will write this for you!

Summary: Y/Ns ableist Dad comes to the BAU and starts being an Ableist arsehole to his daughter, her father figure (Hotch) steps in and saves her.

Third Person pov...

It had been 3 years since Y/N L/N joined the BAU, she was 21 when she joined and instantly became the baby of the team and Hotch became her Dad, Y/N is autistic and has sensory issues.

Ever since she was little her father was ablest and would bully her and verbally abuse her saying how her being Autistic meant something was wrong with her and that she needed fixing, the man caused her to have so many meltdowns and sensory overloads that it made others concerned her teachers as school.

He was later arrested for child abuse and was sent to prison, Y/N was then left with her neighbours who were a nice loving family and always liked her but hated her dad and were glad she got away from him after suffering for years, her Mum was out of the picture.

The young girl had so much trauma from her childhood when she joined the BAU that Hotch became her father figure, their relationship helped mend Y/Ns trauma from her bio dad and she was able to live comfortably knowing he wasnt in her life anymore, she was treated with respect and was always told that her autism wasn't a bad thing.

From being with Penelope and Spencer (who are also Autistic) her relationship with her Autism was mended and she was able to be herself, while with her dad she could stim or doing anything 'autistic' but with her new found family she was free to stim and had all her accomedations, if anyone disrespected her or called her weird they would have to deal with an angry Hotch and the rest of the team.

It was a normal day for the team, they weren’t on a case and for once they all got to relax and fill out paperwork, well aside from Hotch and Spencer no one was doing any paperwork, Derek and Emily were sat giggling loudly like children as they kept throwing rolled up pieces of paper at their second youngest member.

The laughter increased as they kept hitting their mark, Spencers head, the genius was none the wiser as a pile of paper was forming around him at their many failed attempts. From the side JJ and Penelope sit and watch as Spencer doesn't realise, opposite the genius sat Y/N she was busy spinning in her chair with her headphones on and watching the scene play out.

She had the perfect poker face for when a paper ball hit Spencer's head, as the children in the bull pen play the two adults Hotch and Rossi where actually getting work done, , well Hotch was at least the Italian was drinking and watching the kids outside keeping an eye on them as someone responsible needed too.

As Y/N continued to spin around her in chair she didn’t hear the heavy footsteps off someone walking up behind her, the H/C woman was suddenly yanked off her chair and onto the hard floor by a man, in the process of being manhandled her headphones when flying off her head.

“What did I tall ya about doing that Girl!” exclaimed a voice that haunted her nightmares, gasping in terror Y/N stared frozen at her Father who was suppose to be in prison, the large man had a sickening grin on his face as he saw the terror in his daughter eyes.

“Yes its me!” he laughed that horrible laugh that had Y/N holding her hands overs her ears, the 21 year old was still frozen on the floor while the others were staring at the scene before them guns raised, by this time Hotch and Rossi had heard what happened and were out of their offices.

“bu-but your supposed to be in jail!” exclaimed Y/N finally finding her voice stuttering, the man looked down at her crumpled form, he then grabbed the front of her blouse pulling his daughter close. “they let me out for good behaviour, did ya miss me!” he semi whispered as Y/Ns face grew a sickening pale white, she scrambled to get away but the man wouldn’t let go instead he raised his hand and slapped her.

Y/N cried out in pain. “you really didn’t think I could be held for long did ya you retard! You really are still a fucked in the head as you were years ago” yelled the man, Hotch had had enough, he rain down thw ramp arms raised, gun in his hands. “Get your hands on hr now, you do realise you just assaulted a federal agent” growled out Hotch as the man teared his eyes away from the shivering form of his daughter.

He spat at Hotch. “your not her father I am, this waste of space in am Agent HA!”!” he laughed again and kicked Y/N hard in the ribs, Penelope gasps tears in her eyes as she witnesses her friend get beaten. Y/N holds in her cries of pain and raises her head from the floor glaring at the man.

“your not my dad you never have been!” she cried tears rolling down her face, the sadistic man smirked at the tears rolling down his daughters face, the sight reminding off when she was a kid and he would verbally abuse her, he had never hit her before now, it felt good.

Her words made him angry. “I am your father retard, though I hate to admit it you share my blood, your as stupid as I remember crying on the floor like the child you are to stupid to do what I say” he goes on on berating Y/N and saying how stupid she was once again verbally abusing her, as he went on his rant Y/N managed to stand up.

She was then pulled behind Hotch, his finger close to pulling the trigger. “you Bastard, you shut the fuck up now, you have crossed the line now get out of my building and away from my Daughter before I pump your body full of bullets!” yelled Hotch threw clenched teeth, he was so close to pulling the trigger instead he stormed up so he was chest to chest with the man and pulled back his fist.

When he lets go his right hand connected with the nose he was satisfied to feel it shatter, a smirk on his face before gesturing to a couple of agents. “now don’t ever come back or I will kill you” Hotches hand was burning but he felt satisfied when Y/Ns Dad freeze before he tsked and stormed out not before calling Y/N the R slur before he was detained by two agents ans forced into handcuffs.

Hotch crossed his arms before turning around to hug Y/N was had collapsed, the stress from her dad coming in draining her, she was then sat at her desk with Hotch hovering around her looking at her injuries, E/C eyes locked on his brown ones.

“Im your daughter” she whispers hoarsely, this made Hotch smile and run his hand through her hair. “of course, you are sweetie” he smiled softly kissing her forehead still smiling when she smiles back.

The end!!

Hoped you liked this oneshot so sorry for the wait! As usual sorry for the grammar and spelling mistake!

Requests are open!

Word count: 1366

[cumulo-stratus]

BAU autism headcannons

(GIF NOT MINE)

(male reader)

CW: possible swearing, mentions of meltdowns and overstimulation, lemme know if theres anything else!

A/N: sry i havent rly posted in a while, i started a school recently and its been a rly big change for me so ive just been emotionally/mentally exhausted like all the time, but i dont wanna abandon u guys so i decided i would get something up, even if its not super good, thanks for y’all’s understanding <3

i think both JJ and Emily would become sort of mothers to reader

(not that they werent already mothers to the rest of the team but reader especially)

like JJ would totally have a motherly instinct for readers needs (like a sort of spider sense)

like if your ever nervous about something being too much or being overwhelming, jj would kinds know this and either make arrangements for accommodations or make sure you know you dont have to go if you want to.

and like she definitely wold put herself in charge of keeping your safe foods stashed on the jet and at the office

emily is more of a mother in a protective way than jj is

like this girl will not hesitate at all to go off on someone for maybe being disrespected to about stimming your chair while thinking

or like if you dont want to shake a police officers hand when your being introduced, and you get dirty/weird looks for it, or anyone comments on it? BOOM this girl will stare at them with so much animosity they’ll be scared of her shes so hot oml

anyways i thinks he team would be super accepting of you, especially if you joined after reid like they would already have some experience with autism

and like if you weren’t ent comfortable telling anyone other than hotch(i feel like it would be like a in ur file thing idk how the government works tho) spencer would defo be able to tell and confront u privately abt it (our respectful king <3)

and if you are comfortable telling the team, everyone would be respectful

i think like rossi/gideon would be a little clueless but like trying their hardest

like rossi would have no idea what stimming is but understands that like you move in certain ways or make certain noises when ur excited

and like with all his money he wouldnt hesitate to spoil u with any fidget toy u need/want or like a rly nice weighted blanket (its insane how expensive those things are)

and like gideon despite his profound understanding of others (hope yall got that ;)) he wouldn’ t get why sometimes you dont feel like/cant talk but totally respects it

omg garcia is our autism ally QUEEN im telling you

always has a big basket of fidgets/stim toys sitting on her desk and when your having a rough day shell leave you a little goodie in a brightly colored and decorated bag

i firmly believe that she is the queen at finding brands with clothes that not only fits your style perfectly but is also sensory friendly

i think she would definitely say that if she never ended up working in the FBI she wouldve started a clothing shop for sensory friendly clothing/accessories

spencer would totallllyyyy be your best friend when it comes to being under-stimulated

he will totally info dump on you and vice-versa

spencer (like penlope) would totally recommend clothing brands that are sensory friendly, but sock brands in particular

and everyone makes fun of you for nerding out over everything

also spencer would definitely get in the habit of grabbing your hands in his when you start to pick a t your nails and cuticles

like he didnt even realize what he was doing the first time but now he does it without thinking about it and for the team its normal

“hey,” and he would gently grab your hands to stop you from picking at them

“sorry..”

”youve nothing to be sorry for” (with that little reid smile oml rf[osifjgturhv)

and i also firmly believe that morgan is the best people to go to if your having a meltdown

he would stop you from harmfully stimming

“hey sugar, unclench those pretty little hands for me. there we go… good job kid.” he would have the softest smile and voice

and when he takes your hands to stop you from hitting yourself his grip is rly firm but gentle

but hotch is the best to go to for when your overstimulated

like he would make sure you know his office is always a quiet place you can go to with out questions

and he would secretly have a stash of like stimm toys in his office that he stole from garcia

his couch is always open to you, especially like late at night if you are really tired his fatherly instincts will kick in and force you to come to his office for a break

he would would hand you and blanket and a stim toy

”sit. sleep”

thats all he would say in his cute little stern but actually caring voice <3

[c-m-stuff]

Meltdown

Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

-Description: You and Spencer are together. When Spencer experienced a meltdown, you are there for him.

-Warnings: Angst, fluffiness, meltdown, Autism Spectrum Disorder (Spencer)

-Word count: 992

-Note: (Repost from Wattpad!) This is a somewhat more heavier subject, and I hope, everyone has respect for each other. Everyone experience this different, and hopefully, you are all okay. I'm always here to talk! <3

Masterlist

Spencer's POV:

I would've been fine.

I would've been fine, with the sudden change of plans, that sent the team here in the first place. I would've been fine, forcing myself making eye contact with the officers during the briefing. I would've been fine, with the stranger occupying the space where Emily should be.

Really, I would've been fine.

But then, someone bumped into me in the local police station.

Normally, I have no problems with physical contact. But, I needed to know it was coming, and I needed to trust the person.

This stranger bumping into me, while I was already on edge, only made things worse. Far worse.

'I'm sorry.' the stranger apologized, because that's what you do when you accidentally bump into each other. You both say sorry, and move on with your lives.

I wanted to say sorry back, I really do, but I just couldn't. I froze for a moment, as I tried to speak, failing miserably. The man gave me a look, and walked away.

Suddenly, I was very aware of the coffee smell, that was hanging in the station. The fluorescence lights, were suddenly brighter, and the complete stranger, who just bumped into me, hadn't showered today. I could hear people chat, but couldn't make any word out of it.

I felt the tears sting, and knew, that I was on the very edge of having a meltdown. Not here. Not now. I wished, that I was home, alone, and could fall apart there. I needed privacy. I started to pace quickly to the single-user restroom, hoping no one would notice. When I made it into the restroom, I was quick with locking the door and turning the light off.

I broke down.

__________________________

Y/N POV:

I saw what happened. I saw, Spencer bumping into a stranger. I saw, his world changing, because of too many stimuli. I saw, him on the very edge of tears, of having a meltdown. And, I saw, him running towards the restroom.

Spencer, having a meltdown, never happened before. It happens rarely, and I never seen it happen. But, I knew what the symptoms are. When he told me, he was Autistic, I asked questions or search for information on the internet. I wanted to know as many things as possible, in order to help him. To understand him.

Now, I was fully able to keep my promises.

I rushed after him, and knocked gently on the door.

'Spence, it's me. I know what is happening, and I want to help you. Please let me in, I'm alone.'

That last word was the most important. I was alone. He didn't needed attention on him, especially not now.

After a few seconds, the door unlocked. I went in, and immediately locked it after me. There he was. His body, shaking, tears streaming down his face, as he bites his lip, in an attempt to sob as quiet as possible.

The most important thing to do was, stay calm. The least thing he needed, was more worrying. Since, this is the first time I experience this, and it's different with everyone, I wasn't sure if he needed a comforting hug, or that the physical contact only made things worse. So, I decided to just open up my arms, letting him decide.

'You don't need to hug me. Do what's best for you.'

He doubted it. But, made quick the decision, to crash into my arms. I hugged him. I wanted to hug him tightly, but I knew that he needed all the control. He needed to know, that he could pull back, at any given moment. He needed completely control.

I rubbed softly his back, as the tears were still streaming, uncontrollably.

'I am so proud of you, love. You're doing so good. Everything is going to be okey. Just let it all out.' I spoke, softly, hoping it would help.

Eventually, his tears lessened, then stopped, as we were now in comfortable silence. He pulled slightly away, and turned the light back on. Without saying anything, he went to the mirror. The tear traces were mostly gone, but his eyes were still a little puffy and red. He splashed some water in his face, making his eyes a bit better.

'Repitive thinking is a death mill for the brain. For complete brain usage, diverse stimulation is the key.' he spoke out a random fact, most likely wanted to make sure he could talk again.

Then, Spencer turned around, looking at me.

'Thank you so much, (Y/N). You don't know how much you helped me.' I could see the appreciation on his face, making me smile.

'I'm really glad, I could help.' he walked towards me, and wrapped me into a sweet hug.

'Normally, I would have been fine, but then there was this stranger, bumping into me, and-'

'It's okay, love. I understand, everything is okey now.' I hated to cut him off, but it seemed like the best option. He began to get nervous again, and the last thing I wanted, was to make him relive the moment.

'Are you okay?' I asked him, as we pulled apart again.

'Yes, much better now.'

'Good, and remember, I'm always here for you.'

'Thank you. Really, thank you for helping me.'

'No problem, genius. Are you ready to get back?'

'Yeah.'

'You sure?' I asked again, wanting to make sure he's ready. He nodded his head, as I was about to unlock the door.

'Love?'

'Yes?' I turned around, facing him.

'Im here for you too. Always.'

__________________________

[yellowroseswrites]

“Can you see right through me?”

Roommate!Spencer Reid x hypersexual! traumatized! reader

she/her is used, bras are mentioned! if anyone would like this with a gn or male reader, please lmk!

-The one where your roommate knows why you are the way you are, but no one else does.-

Authors note- {this wasn’t requested, it’s really just me projecting, but i hope this helps someone!}

TW-{plenty of sex mentions, talks of underwear, talks of smut (but no actual smut), talks of porn (nondescriptive, but reader watches it), sex as a coping mechanism, allusions to non-con, reader doesnt really want to be this way, reader is traumatized, but the trauma is nonspecific so you can self insert, use of y/n, reid is autism coded but thats just how i write him all the time, plenty of whore/slut usage, please dont read if being called a whore/slut triggers you, plenty of negative self talk, i feel the need to bring up the non-con again.nothing is described in detail but its heavily implied. please be safe when reading!}

1.2k, enjoy <3 

Whore

Honestly you were so used to that comment. That's what everyone thought, even yourself most of the time.

Logically, you knew why you were like this. You had enough Psychology knowledge to understand the way trauma responses worked, and you knew full well that that's what this was.

But it was so much easier to just call yourself a slut and move on. You just liked it, you would tell yourself, It has nothing to do with anything they did to you.

So what if you wished you were innocent and naïve? So what if you wished you could just wear comfortable clothes? So what if you wished you weren't always thinking about sleeping with someone? So what if you wished you could erase every trace of porn from your memory? You were a whore, you couldn't change it, you couldn't excuse it.

Your roommate Spencer knew what people thought of you. He knew the rumors and he saw the glances. He didn't quite believe it all when he first moved in with you into your small shared apartment, but he quickly picked up on some of the signs.

There was that time when he offered to wash your clothes for you when you were sick. He didn't try to look, if anything he was putting them in the wash with his eyes half closed, but he couldn't help but notice that every one of your undergarments were frilly and lacey. Certainly you would get tired of wearing cute bras or own some underwear that wasn't a thong? Or maybe he just didn't know women as well as he thought? He brushed off that incident, until there were more.

Like when he looked through your bookshelf only to find every spicy scene highlighted or bookmarked. It wasn't his place to judge, and he didn't, but he could have sworn you said your favorite books were classic novels, and these certainly weren't.

Or when he found porn on your laptop. He, again, didn't judge, but he was confused. You would shutter at any sex scene on TV, and you couldn't stand the subject. Sure, people called you every name under the sun, but not Spencer. Spencer didn't think you were a slut, but he did think you were in pain. He just didn’t know how to bring it up to you, it certainly wasn’t roomate or coworker appropriate, it was barely even friend appropriate. There was a line he didn’t ever want to cross with you, in fear of making you uncomfortable, but he wanted nothing more than to help you.

I was a random friday when he somehow found the confidence, and audacity, to bring it up. You just got back from your afternoon run, in shorts that definetly showed more than you liked, and Spencer was cooking dinner for the two of you.

You untied your running shoes and placed them on the shoe rack near the door like you always do. You walked to the kitchen and basked in the lovely arauma, if their was anything you loved about being Reid’s roomate, it was definetly his cooking.

He told himself to be gentle, to not bring it up when it wasn’t the right time, but when has he ever held something important back?

“Do you like having sex?”

Woah, wow. That’s not how he meant that, but now it’s too far to go back. So he put the timer on for his water to come to a boil and he turned to face you and wait for your answer.

You were nothing less than taken aback by his question. You never discussed sex with Spencer, there was always a silent boundary on the subject. It wasn’t his business, you both knew that, so why did you want to answer honestly? You didn’t, you couldn’t. That’s a can or worms for a different day, with a therapist, who you didn’t live with. So you simply laughed it off.

“I mean, you’ve heard the rumors, I’m sure you’re smart enough to figure that out.” You said it as a joke, Spencer didn’t laugh, he simply shifted his feet a bit.

“I am smart enough to figure it out. Except the answer I came up with, is that you don’t like it.”

You laughed again, this time shifting your eyes to the ground. Two psycho-analyzers living together had it’s quirks, such as exposing each other’s darkest secrets on accident.

“Come on Spencer, I’m like, a slut. Of course I do.” You were still smiling, mostly to deflect.

“Don’t say that.” He was serious. You certainly wish he wasn’t, but fine. If he wanted to be serious, you would be serious.

“It’s true.” You were surrounded by criminals on a daily basis, lying was second nature to you.

Reid wasn’t having it, “No, y/n, it’s not. You’re not a slut, you’re not a whore, you’re not just some sex toy to be traded from person to person.”

“My sex life is none of your business. I can sleep with whoever I want to-”

“That’s the thing! You don’t want to sleep with them. You don’t want to be looked at like that. You don’t want to consume any of the content that you’ve been looking at. I know you don’t.” He kept a steady voice, but a dominate one nonetheless. He let everything just roll of his tongue, as though he didn’t just send a wrecking ball through every wall you’ve built up since you were a child.

You couldn’t find words, you couldn’t come up with a lie or excuse, you couldn’t figure out how to let out the truth, you simply stood in your astonished silence. 

Spencer looked at your face, searching for any sign of emotion, but you stood still as a statue. 

“Look, y/n, I didn’t mean to-”

“I’m a slut.” Your voice cracked when you spoke, almost like Reid’s heart when he heard it.

“No, no my love you aren’t.”

“No. That’s what I am. That’s what I do, that’s what I’m good at. I-It’s what I’m good at. I’m good for sex, that’s what I’m good at.” Your gaze fell back to the floor as you spoke, your words quickly becoming muddled and rambled. Your body started shaking as you spoke, causing Spencer to quickly make his way to your side.

“Slut, I’m a slut Spence, it’s what I’m good at. It’s okay, I’m okay with it, I promise. I know, I know I am. It doesn’t bother me-”

“Shhh, Breathe honey. Come on, deep breath in-” Spencer breathed with you until you steadied yourself. You gathered your thoughts and your feelings. You tried to gather the pieces of the wall Reid broke, desperate to put it back together, but when you looked back up at Spencer, you let it all go again. He made you feel safe, that’s all that you wanted.

“I can’t stop it Spence.” Your voice was soft. You were letting go of something you held onto for so long. Soemthing you hid behind, something you felt comfort in, you just placed it down in front of him. You felt bare, naked, and yet somehow felt more comfortable than you ever have before. You could breathe easier. Someone knew now, someone knew you.

“We’re gonna get you some help. Okay?” You replied with a nod before wrapping your arms around him. He placed a kiss on your head before speaking again, 

“You’re not a slut, I never thought you were.”

[iamcxlleigh]

𝐖𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑. | 𝐚𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜!𝐨𝐜

𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐒

𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 ⨟ aaron knows how misunderstood and discriminated against people with your condition are, but he doesn't realize how far people's cruel words are capable of going until you show it to him yourself.

𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 ⨟ the reader has ASD (autism spectrum disorder), also known as 'asperger' but from now on I will use the term 'ASD' so that other people can feel more comfortable, in my country it is still known by the term asperger, so if I ever forgot to make this clarification, I hope you will excuse me. ♡

𝐧/𝐚 ⨟ english is not my native language, an apology for any grammatical or spelling errors.

(the reader has a default name, I do not use y/n).

It was a warm and rainy night, the sound of the drops hitting the windows along with the sound of the TV in the background was the only thing Charlie was paying attention to, she was extremely focused on her things, a few meters away was Aaron sitting in the dining room of his home, in front of him was his work laptop, several papers and folders, and he kept talking on the phone, he was a very busy man indeed.

As Hotchner spoke in his typical authoritative tone of voice, he watched through his work clutter as his partner sat quietly cross-legged on the couch, in front of her on the living room table with several small trains and a large history book on locomotives, occasionally the young woman would look up at the television set that was broadcasting a program on antique car restoration.

Charlie told her many times about her great interest in trains and their history, being an expert on the subject practically, she could talk so much about it that it could border on obsessive, but it was something she could not control, a detail to highlight of her condition was that: People with this disorder tend to develop very specific tastes and often out of the ordinary or of little interest to a person, such as the love of planes, trains, dinosaurs, prehistory, cars and other things.

At that moment thunder struck, catching the girl off guard, she gave a little jump in her place while Aaron didn't even flinch, she turned to see Hotchner laughing at her reaction, he also smiled slightly at her previous action, he thought how funny and sweet she looked to be scared like that, but quickly returned his attention to the call talking firmly.

Charlie watched her partner for a few more seconds, thinking how scary but imposing Aaron looked, she would never have imagined that a man like him would love her, not when she spent most of her life discriminated or ignored by every boy or man, she felt lucky to get a man as protective and caring as the handsome FBI agent a few feet away from her.

After about 15 minutes she finished arranging her little trains in order from biggest to smallest, she concentrated on reading more carefully her book about the most important locomotives that have ever existed in history, she read her book carefully trying to nourish herself with what will catch her attention the most, at that moment Aaron's partner in the bau, Dr. Spencer Reid, came to her mind.

She remembered hearing that this young man had the ability to read 20,000 words per minute, she imagined for a second that he could read that fast, but she thought, could he really enjoy books that fast? She wasn't sure.

After reading for quite a while, she was amazed to see a small but beautiful model of a locomotive, a Class LB&SCR E2 manufactured between 1913 and 1916, she got up excitedly with her book in her hands walking towards Hotch, who was looking at his laptop while still talking on the phone with who knows who.

She stopped next to the older man with a small smile hugging her book with the bookmarked page waiting patiently for him to finish talking, she was again enraptured with Aaron, looking from his dark blue long sleeve shirt to continue with his masculine and attractive features to her sight, and finally his black hair.

The moment he finished speaking, Hotchner leaned back in his chair stretching his arms and legs somewhat wearily, looking at the young woman next to him who looked anxious with her book in her hands.

— What's the matter, Honey? — he asked his partner calmly.

— Look, Aaron — She opened her book, sitting confidently on Hotchner's lap to show him comfortably what she wanted to show him, Esté regained his posture passing his left hand around the young woman's waist listening with absolute attention to everything she said, forgetting about work for a moment.

She began to speak enthusiastically showing him the black and white photo of the locomotive, talking in detail about what she had seen in the book, complemented with her own opinion about what she had seen, Hotch listened interested and amazed by Charlie's ease in retaining the information he liked the most, her excited voice filled his heart.

When he met her she was so withdrawn and shy, under that mask hid an intelligent and talkative woman.

— The new design was considered successful, except that it was discovered that they had an inadequate water supply. Therefore, when a new order was placed for five locomotives, they were delivered extended side tanks — He explained to his partner putting the book still aside continuing with his explanation, absentmindedly running his hand down Aaron's neck.

�� But finally delivered between June 1915 and October 1916, ready to be used in the period of initiation of the first world war — Hotchner finished leaving his partner surprised, she looked at him looking speechless confused, action that he quickly perceived — What?

— No, nothing... Just that - He stopped abruptly feeling his heart racing, regretting what he was about to say — Relax, I'll leave you to your work.

He was about to take the book to get up from his partner's lap, but the latter quickly prevented him by holding his chin carefully making sure he looked directly at him.

— Tell me what's wrong — Aaron demanded without sounding threatening or frightening, in his voice there was a touch of patience, understanding and tranquility, just wanting to know what was going on in his partner's head.

He seemed to think about it a bit before answering.

— Well, nobody really pays attention to me when I talk too much — She confessed wanting to lower her gaze, but Hotch's hand didn't allow it — They think I don't notice, but I keep talking just so I can tell someone other than myself.

— Did you think I wasn't paying attention, Charlie? — He asked without losing his stance on the situation, but inside he was surprised that she would think that about him.

— It's just that this is not a subject of your interest, I thought you wouldn't give it any importance — She answered confidently.

— That doesn't matter, whatever you want to tell me I will pay attention to it and I will remember the details if necessary. If it's important to you, it's important to me too — Aaron's quick answer left the girl speechless, feeling silly for a second.

How could she doubt Aaron like that? Believing he was like everyone else, when he absolutely wasn't, his hand slowly removed itself from the older man's neck until it rested next to his other hand in his own lap.

— Are you upset? — She asked, thinking he was probably upset with her for saying that — No, what am I asking? I must have sounded stupid, I'm sorry.

— Don't apologize, Charlie. It's okay — He replied passing his hand to her cheek sympathetically, giving small caresses — I'm not upset.

Despite his affirmation, the young girl still seemed to doubt his answer, she was so transparent with her gestures and even with her physical language that it was impossible for Hotch not to notice her feelings at first sight.

— Whenever you want to talk about anything, you know that I'm all ears only for you — He spoke making her look at him attentively, making a great effort to look him in the eyes — And when I'm not around, Jack will also listen to you, you know he loves to talk to you.

— Yes — Charlie admitted, letting out a little smile — He is really interested in the things around him, in history, one day I even explained to him the meaning of ‘Hey Jude’ and he never stopped staring at me.

Hotch laughed when he heard that last anecdote, he was curious to know what his son would think when his partner explained to him the meaning of The Beatles song.

After a second of silence, it was Charlie herself who removed Aaron's hand from her face.

— I don't want to keep distracting you from your work, I'd better let you get on with it — She spoke with a small smile, although when she saw all the paperwork on the table she felt bad for all the work Aaron had on top of him, and to think that in her office there was more.

She thought Hotchner's work was very interesting and once in a while she asked him a question or two, but he didn't like to talk much about what he saw out there, and she understood that perfectly.

— Give me 10 more minutes and I'll be with you on the couch, OK? — He promised looking attentively at the young woman, who nodded agreeing with his word, she didn't leave without leaving a kiss on Aaron's cheek clutching his book.

He watched her leave and let out a slight smile to himself.

As he sat on the couch he watched his partner again in the distance as he typed away on his laptop with a serious expression, he remembered her words with great attention, as he did so he felt a warm sensation pass through his chest.

It felt so good to be listened to, that among hundreds of seemingly ignorant people, there was one who was willing to give you their undivided attention.

It was simply wonderful.

— 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐝 —

‹ 20. 04. 2023 ›

credits for : @iamcxlleigh

¡Hola, gente! How are you doing? I hope you are doing well! Thank you for reading my writing today, I come back and repeat! That English is not my native language, so I am sorry for any kind of grammar or spelling mistakes.

If you have any request, about something you want me to write, you can write to me and I will see if I will do it. 🤍

calleigh angelo ──── ‘lista maestra’

¡Nos vemos! 🗯️

[jjtheresidentbaby]

yk how reid is heavily autistic coded? (might be canon i cant remember) maybe little reader having a meltdown and/or sensory issues and spencer understanding and helping them?

Too Much | Spencer Reid x Reader

a/n: I am not officially diagnosed with autism so if I’ve gotten anything incorrect please let me know and I’ll immediately fix it. this also got so much less agere then I intended it to be

warnings: sensory overload, anxiety, stimming, reader going non-verbal, crying, mentions of Reid & reader being autistic

───°˖✧✿✧˖° ───

-

It was too much, everything was too much. There’s the buzzing of the board Garcias presenting on, the click of the clock on the wall, Emily tapping her pen relentlessly against the round table, Rossi keeps looking at you and you don’t know why- everything is too much.

“Y/n?” You startle at Reid’s soft voice from your left, his expression just as gentle as his voice.

“Y- yeah?” You mange but just barely, talking feels like so much work and especially with your little space clawing at your mind.

“You okay?” You huff at Spencers concern, why would he think you’re not okay? Even if you feel like running out of this room, you have to be okay, you have to stay calm and organized at work, it’s the rules.

The rules you have made up for yourself as you’ve seen how your team can lose it a little bit, how they’re so open to be who they are around one another, but that’s not you. You are collected and treated with respect, not someone that freaks out over Emily’s pen hitting the table over, and over, and over and-

“Please stop doing that!” You shout, tears springing to your eyes when you realize that you just yelled at Prentiss. Her face is one of shock as she drops her pen quickly against the table, you clasp a hand over your mouth in horror, you can’t believe you just yelled at Emily, one of your best friends.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get so upset- I’m sorry, it’s just- I um- I can’t- it’s-.” You give up on trying to explain yourself and instead slide down to the floor.

This is unprofessional, you note, but it’s helping the slightest bit. Helping the buzz of stimulation die down just the smallest possible amount when you start to rock in place, tucking your head into your knees and wrapping your arms around yourself in hopes that none of your harmful stims come out.

“Hey, can you look at me?” Reid appears in front of you, he helps block out some of the light and you can recognize that the team must have left with how little murmurs there are.

“There you are. Feel like you can talk?” You give a hesitant nod, of course you can talk, physically, it just might take all of your energy right now, Spencer seems to understand this as he hums along.

“Okay, you don’t have to. Is it too sensory overloading in here?” A firm nod as yes, yes that’s exactly it, he gets it.

“We can go somewhere quieter if you’d like, I’m sure Em wouldn’t mind giving us her office for a bit.” Oh god Emily’s probably so mad at you, she’s probably writing you up for yelling at coworkers, for having an outburst during the work day, she’s probably-

“Hey don’t do that, everything’s okay and Prentiss totally understands. Trust me, I’ve done worse than yell at her when I was overstimulated.” You cock your head at Reid, you’ve never seen him in a state of overstimulation or ever heard him mention things of the sort.

“I’m autistic, the team knows and I figured it was time you did too.” A weight lifts off your chest, Spencer smiles when the tension drops from your shoulders. You quickly point to yourself, hoping Spencer will understand that you’re also autistic.

“You are too? I gotta tell Garcia, she made me a whole sensory toy basket when I told her, I’m sure she’d do the same for you.” You smile to Spencer, the buzzing isn’t so bad now, there’s no eyes on you that you don’t want there and everything seems to be calming down.

Though your little headspace is coming in strongly, as it does after meltdowns or shutdowns, it gives your body a way to recharge. Work isn’t an ideal location for your regression, pushing it away doesn’t seem to be working either.

“Let’s go to Em’s office.” Spencer must pick up on something shifting in you since he offers his hand up for you to grab, something you know he doesn’t do often, you take it gratefully and let him lead the two of you down to Prentiss’ empty room.

-

“Now nobody can come bother us.” Spencer smiles over his shoulder, triple checking that the office is locked and it’s just you two.

“Do you need anything? Sometimes Garcia will put a show on her laptop for me when I’m coming down from a meltdown, I can go grab my computer if you want. Or I have a few books in my bag.” He starts to rummage around in his satchel, pulling out four books that have all been throughly read through based off how worn out they are.

“Wanna read one?” Your headspace doesn’t feel nearly big enough to read one of those books, the font is too small, pages filled with so many words that you can’t even pronounce correctly on a good day.

“I’ll read to you.” Reid decides when you just stay silently staring down at the books.

He gets situated in the corner of Emily’s couch quickly, sifting through the books til he finds one he thinks is the best choice, then Spencer opens up an arm for you. It takes a second before you fully comply, you know Reid isn’t huge on physical touch, but he lets you settle into his side.

“Chapter one…” Spencer begins, you lay happily against him, no more anxiety in your chest, all you feel is security in Reid’s arms as you listen to his soft voice.

[the-guilty-writer]

Statistics, Rubix Cubes, and Waiting Rooms

Request: You can read the original request and headcanons based off the request here.

Spencer Reid x daughter!reader

Summary: Your dad, Spencer, sits with you as you wait for your psychological testing to begin.

A/N: I think Spencer with an autistic daughter who is late to get a diagnosis is my favorite thing to write about because it's self-indulgent for me as well as the people who gravitate towards my blog. Also, I made it so the reader is going in for psychological evaluation rather than just for autism since in my experience a psychologist will evaluate for multiple things rather than just for a target diagnosis when the screening process first starts (but this is just my experience and it may be different for others). Please note that autism comes in a spectrum (or rather a pie chart) for a reason, so this is by no means is a representation of the experience of every AFAB autistic person.

CW: talks about autism, misdiagnosis, reader recalling that she's been told that she just has anxiety, waiting room atmosphere, picking at skin

---

You never thought that a place could be too silent or too still. For years you had sought comfort in the quiet corners of libraries to avoid noisy lunch rooms and wrapped your arms around yourself on the metro to deaden the sensation of constant movement. But today, sitting in the near-empty waiting room of a psychiatrist's office, you strained your ears to hear something and looked around for movement that wasn’t there.

“(Y/N),” your dad, Spencer, whispered gently in your ear. “Sweetie, you’re picking at your fingers again.”

You looked down- the nail beds that your Aunt Penelope had so perfectly manicured just a few days ago were now ruined. You had pulled and picked away at the skin so much that it was fraying. There were a few places where you’d managed to pick away at the layers until it was pink and raw and close to bleeding. All without you even noticing.

“Something soft or something hard?” Spencer asked you.

“Hard,” you replied instantly. If you got something too soft, too moldable, too easy on your hands now, you might scream.

Your dad produced his old rubix cube from his pocket. The thing was ancient- older than you were- but that just made it more special. The joints rotated easily, but always snapped into place where you wanted them to. And it made just enough noise that it disrupted the deafening silence.

With the cube already mixed up you got to work. Part of you wanted to rush, but part of you wanted to take your time. Part of you wanted this to be over and part of you wanted it to never stop.

When you got to the last few moves and the colors still weren’t in place, you stopped your work and squeezed the object.

“Do you want help, or do you want to do it on your own?” Your dad asked.

“I want help,” you said.

You handed him the cube. Spencer twisted the cube a few times until it was the last move- the one that would put all the colors back into place. He handed it back to you and you rotated it one more time- the cube locking into place with a satisfying click. 

You breathed out, trying to let the tension in your shoulder go, but it didn’t seem to want to leave.

“What if-” you weren’t sure if you could articulate what you wanted to say. “What if it comes back as nothing we haven’t heard before?”

Lucky for you, Spencer Reid could basically read minds.

“Then we’ll cross that bridge when we get there,” he said. He gently took the cube from your hands and misplaced a few of the colors- ones that you could easily put back in place- then handed it back to you. 

Thankful that your dad seemed to know exactly what you needed right then, you put the colors back in place. “But you’ve gone through all this trouble and taken all this time off work. What if all the tests say that it is just anxiety?”

You gave the cube to your dad again, who began to mix it up as he talked.

“I couldn’t find a definite statistic,” your dad said. “But it’s estimated that over 40% of girls with autism are misdiagnosed at least once with a mental illness or disorder before receiving an autism diagnosis. And most girls don’t receive a proper diagnosis until they’re in their late teens or early twenties.”

“So I’d fall into that statistic,” you said.

Spencer sighed and put the cube away. “You’re more than a statistic,” he said. “You’re my daughter. And that means I’m going to do everything I can to make sure that no matter what diagnosis you get it’s the right one so I can help make your life just a little bit easier.”

Your capacity for eye contact fluctuated- sometimes you couldn’t look at anyone or anything and sometimes the reflex to hold eye contact was so intense it felt like if you didn’t you would die. This was one of those moments, when you looked so deeply into your dad’s eyes that you could see your reflection and it felt like that was the only thing keeping you from exploding.

“(Y/N) Reid,” a nurse called from the door. You looked over to her and felt your hand shake nervously. “We’re ready for you.”

You swallowed and took a deep breath.

“Daddy?” You hadn’t called Spencer “daddy” since you were five, but at the moment it felt like you were five again- small and defenseless against the world with only your father (and his revolver) to protect you. “Can you come with me?”

Spencer smiled, tight-lipped and gentle. “Always.”

And just for a second, it didn’t matter what you got diagnosed with, because no matter what your dad would always know what you needed and he would always fight for you, no matter what.

[reidsaurora]

"Kisses Make Everything Better" ~ S. Reid

Summary: Spencer and Y/N get taken hostage, he goes into sensory overload and they have to help him through it.

Pairing: Autistic!Spencer Reid x GN!Reader (i'm p sure no pronouns are used)

Word Count: 1,195

Content Warning: Y/N and Spencer do be kidnapped, mentions of guns, minor character death, mentions of hospitals, sensory overload/overstimulation, very mild swearing, lmk if i missed anything!

Genre: Angst to Fluff, Hurt/Comfort

Extra Notes: another crappy summary but i promise the imagine is written much better

Based On the Prompt: "Hair's Breadth from Death" - gun to temple (from 2022 Whumptober Prompts)

Originally Written: 10/07/2022

Beta Read By: @dungeons-are-too-cold and @theghouligan

Criminal Minds masterlist can be found here!

Whumptober masterlist/schedule can be found here!

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

"Where did you take him?" she growled, grip tight around the gun in her hand.

"For the last time, Ruby, we don't know where your son is," I huffed. "Oliver was placed in foster care after your arrest. We don't know where he went or if he even has the same name."

My eyes darted over to Spencer. His chest heaved, tears brimmed his eyes, and his leg bounced as best it could through the restraints around his ankles.

I could tell Spencer was headed toward sensory overload, most likely caused by both the flex cuffs around his wrists and ankles and the volume of her shouting. One of Spencer's many sensory triggers was plastic, the texture he hated most. He had a couple sensory overload tells, but his most dominant tell was his fidgeting leg.

My face softened as I looked over him. I craved Spencer's touch constantly, but when I saw him in situations like this, I wanted to wrap him up tight and prove to him that things would be OK.

Ruby must've noticed my look of sympathy, prompting her to shout, "Hey, don't look at him! Look at me!"

My eyes flickered over to her, watching as she paced. Her face contorted from a look of anger to a look of curiosity as she paced over to Spencer.

"If you won't tell me where Ollie is," she said, sliding a singular bullet into the chamber, "then I'll just have to make you tell me."

Click!

"Ruby, don't do this," I pleaded. "What will Oliver think of his mother when he finds out she killed a federal agent?"

Spencer's chest heaved five times harder than it already was. "Please," he managed weakly, tears sliding down his cheeks.

"Tell me where he is."

I couldn’t take it anymore. "Ruby, I already told you a hundred times-"

Click!

"Y/N, please make her stop!" Spencer begged.

My mind raced as I attempted to find some way to calm them both. I thought through my options, trying to find something to give me leverage over her.

I knew I shouldn't, it was the one thing Spencer hated telling people about himself, but I knew it might work. I knew it might make Ruby take a step back and consider her son. "Ruby, he has autism."

She pressed the barrel to his skin, surely hard enough to cause an imprint. "No, he doesn't. You're lying."

"I'm not lying. He has autism, just like Oliver," I told her. "He’s going into sensory overload. You wouldn't do that to Oliver, would you? So please don’t do it to Spencer either."

She scoffed, her eyes rolling sarcastically. "You're just saying that so I'll feel bad."

"It's true," Spencer whimpered, "I got diagnosed last year, not long after you lost Oliver."

Click!

"Tell me where Ollie is," she demanded once more, still holding the gun close to Spencer's forehead.

"I already told you a million times, Ruby. We don't-"

"'Know where he is.' Yeah, I know. We've been over that song and dance before," she antagonized. "I'll put the gun down when you tell me where my son is."

I rolled my eyes at her, throwing my head back in frustration. "You wanna know where he is, Ruby?"

Her eyes lit up, her expression filled with sarcasm. "I was wondering when you'd get the message."

My eyes narrowed as she walked closer to me. I leaned up close to her face once she was close enough. "He's living with a nice family who could take way better care of him than your sorry ass ever could," I spat. "He's living with a nice family where the mom isn't a hit woman and the dad is actually in the picture."

BOOM!!!

My ears rang as a gunshot sounded off throughout the room. My eyes screwed shut as tears slid down my face.

"Are you two OK?" I heard a familiar voice ask from across the room.

I slowly opened my eyes, spotting Rossi and Morgan as they walked over to untie us. My mouth fell agape as I registered the fact that Spencer was still alive and breathing. "You're OK," I managed through shallow breaths.

"I'm OK," he confirmed. "What about you?"

Once Rossi had successfully untied me and Morgan had untied Spencer, we rushed over to each other, falling into each other's arms. "I'm OK now," I answered.

Spencer kept his distance during the ambulance ride to the hospital. Luckily, I was able to plead with the driver to keep the siren turned off for Spencer's sake, though I could tell the flashing of the light did nothing to ease his overstimulation.

Once we reached the hospital, I stayed close enough to Spencer to let him know I wasn't leaving his side. The nurse allowed me to share an exam room with him too after I explained our situation.

The room stayed mostly silent, save for us answering the doctors' questions. Spencer's heart rate was still extremely high, probably the result of him having difficulties with calming down after such high stakes situations.

Slowly, I stood from my seat, sitting down beside him on the exam table. "Are you OK?" I whispered.

He nodded slowly, avoiding eye contact with me. "Hey, do you think Rossi and Morgan heard what you said? A-about my diagnosis, I mean."

I exhaled, attempting to figure out how to answer his question. "I'm not sure."

"You don't think they'll make fun of me, do you?" he asked, his volume matching that of mine. "I don't want them to think I'm less capable in the field now that everyone's suspicions have been confirmed."

I held my hand close to his face, not touching him quite yet. "May I?"

He swallowed hard, but nodded nonetheless.

I pressed my hand to his cheek, wiping the remnants of his tears. "No one is going to think you're less capable. And if they did, I'd beat their ass for being ableist."

He cracked a small smile, his eyes finally fluttering up to meet mine. "Thank you."

"I love you, Spencer. I would've never said that if I hadn't thought it would help the situation. I thought telling her about your diagnosis might make her take a step back and think about her actions," I explained. "I'm sorry it didn't work as well as I'd hoped."

"I love you too," he whispered, leaning into my touch.

The room stayed silent for a moment, a comfortable silence I'd craved ever since we'd been taken hostage in the first place. I listened to his breathing, feeling a sense of serenity wash over me as I heard shallow breaths turn into deeper, calmer breaths.

"Y/N?" he spoke again after a couple minutes.

"Hmm?" I hummed, still running my thumb across the soft skin of his cheek.

"Can you kiss me?" he asked, his eyes immediately darting away. "I think it might help distract me."

I gave him a soft smile before leaning in, placing my lips on his. His lips were slightly cracked and dry, but I didn't care.

"Thank you," he whispered as he broke away.

"Of course," I smiled. "Kisses make everything better."

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i don't wanna talk about how much i hate the title of this aldjslshsksgajs

you know what i do wanna talk about tho? how much i love georgia and gracie 🫶🏻

bc they both saw the potential in this fic and gave me so many pointers on making this better for you guys. i just wanna give them both a lil shoutout. love u guys 🥰

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

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[dungeons-are-too-cold]

New Favorite Holiday (GN! Reader)

Summary: A birthday surprise gone wrong that actually ends up going right again. Spencer tries to throw a surprise party for you, but it triggers a meltdown in front of the team. He knows how to calm you down because there is something you haven't told each other: you're both autistic.

Pairing: Autistic! Spencer Reid x autistic! Reader

Warnings: gender neutral reader, autistic meltdown, harmful stim, mention of throwing up, self-hatred/ negative self-talk relating to reader’s autism, comfort, mentions of food rules, fluff, cuddling, mutual stimming

Author’s Note: Hey! This is my first time posting fan fiction on here so I hope I've done all this right lol. I did my best with tagging but if there's anything I missed please feel free to let me know so I can edit the tags or edit any warnings! 

Word count: 4.9k

Hope you enjoy :)

Read on AO3 here

You had never liked your birthday. Kids could be cruel, especially growing up wanting to be in the FBI, so you never really made many friends. There were no birthday parties or classroom cupcakes. You mostly spent your birthday at home alone, your mom and dad usually too busy working to do something with you. Money and a note on the counter would tell you to order something special and get dessert.

“You deserve a proper birthday. Ya know, one with cake, and presents, and balloons, and everything,” Spencer said. It had been only a few months since you joined the BAU when the team first discovered your birthday situation. Spencer’s reaction when you told him was a mixture of shock and recognition. He never really had much of a birthday growing up, either, but he assumed you were at least a little more popular than he was in high school, considering he was twelve.

That first birthday at the BAU, Spencer snuck into the office really early to decorate your desk. There were donuts and balloons and a sign that said “HAPPY BIRTHDAY Y/N” in big, bright letters. Everyone in the office wanted to come up and say happy birthday. It was a constant barrage of handshakes and hugs and claps on the shoulder. There were so many balloons tied to your office chair and they squeaked whenever you shifted. It got really overwhelming, so you tried to calm yourself down. A black pair of noise cancelling headphones found their way over your ears, and you went to see if the conference room was empty; it was the place you liked to stim the most because it had the space to rock on your feet the way you liked. Plus, you could close all the curtains so no one would see you.

It had only been a few months of being on the team at this point, and you wanted to keep your diagnosis a secret. Emily knew, of course, because it was in your psych evaluation. However, you weren’t exactly ready to broadcast that you were autistic to the whole BAU. You had never really had to tell anyone like that. Plus, if they were good enough profilers, they would figure it out on their own. You weren’t sure if that was a good or bad thing, but you would cross that bridge when you got there. Right now, you needed to stim, so you shuffled off to the conference room.

“Surprise!” the whole team shouted as you walked through the door. Luke and Matt both popped a party popper over your head as Penelope brought over a cake, candles already lit. With everyone singing and celebrating, you found yourself frozen, panic rushing suddenly through every inch of your body. Breathing became difficult, the lights were burning into your eyes, and you felt incredibly disoriented. All you wanted to do was turn and run, but all you could do was rock back and forth and start to hit your head.

“Woah, are you alright?” Luke moved to touch your shoulder, but a small whine escaped your lips before he had the chance. You couldn’t be touched right now; it would absolutely send you over the edge and you were doing your best to keep some semblance of calm in front of your teammates.

After shutting your eyes, you were able to briefly pull your hands from your head to sign “quiet”, signaling Luke to shut off the music.

“Hey, Y/N. Its Spencer. I’m gonna move past you really quick to shut off the lights, okay?” You gave a small nod of assurance, and the space behind your eyelids went dark.

“Can you move right now?”

You shook your head.

“Do you want everyone else to leave?”

You signed yes. Shuffling soon died down and you opened your eyes. Spencer was standing just a few feet from you.

“I’m gonna stay with you, I just don’t want you to hurt yourself, okay?”

You sat down on the floor right by the door. Standing was getting to be too much, and you wanted to rock back and forth. Your colleague sat down opposite you.

“Would pressure be helpful right now?” He spoke softly, as to not hurt your ears. You were in survival mode and would taker any comfort you could get, so you simply tapped your back and nodded your head. There was a little bit of space between you and the wall, which Spencer gently worked himself into, placing you between his legs.

“I’m going to put my arms around you now, around your middle.” You sank down so your head was on his chest, and you banged it softly against him. Eventually you were able to calm down enough that a few tears slipped from the corner of your eye. Spencer was quick to wipe them away. “I am so sorry about this. I didn’t think about how overwhelming it might be for you,” he said as he gently stroked your hair.

“It’s okay, it was really sweet of you to try,” you croaked out, voice still not quite there. As overwhelmed as you were, you had never had someone care this much about you. You really did think it was sweet of him to put all of this together, you were just nervous about how you would look to the team. It was the first meltdown you had ever had in front of them.

All of a sudden, feelings of shame and embarrassment washed over you as you realized something: you just had a meltdown in front of the whole team.

You thought about how stupid you must have looked to the rest of the team; you couldn’t even let Luke touch you. They had all gone out of their way to be nice to you when they didn’t have to, and you were ungrateful and ruined it by freaking out and crying like a baby. And on top of that, what if they think you can’t do your job now? How will they treat you out in the field if you can’t even handle a birthday surprise? There’s no way anything will be okay on the team again.

Your breathing picked up and you felt frantic. All of a sudden Spencer’s hold felt impossibly tight around you, like he was strangling you, and you clawed to get away.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” you muttered to yourself. You returned to hitting your head as the tears started flowing. “Stupid, stupid, stupid.” Strangled cries spilled from your mouth as you pressed your back against the ground, feet flat against the carpet and arms digging as hard as they could into your stomach.

“You’re not stupid, Y/N, no one thinks this is stupid. I’m the stupid one, I should have known to ask.” Spencer slowly made his way over to where you laid. Now completely exhausted, you were more willing to lean on him. You needed the support and would worry about the consequences and conversations later. Right now, getting your breathing back to a regular rhythm was the number one priority; you couldn’t get a deep breath and a painful case of hiccups wasn’t making it any easier.

“I’m going to reach up behind me and grab a bottle of water, okay?” You nodded and he shifted beside you.“Okay, I’m gonna have you sit up so you can take a sip. Hold the water in your mouth for a sec, and then lean your head back on my lap so you’re slightly upside down. I know its gonna feel weird and might be a little scary right now, but I think it will help with the hiccups, okay?”

He gently stroked your hair until you started to prop yourself up. Reid’s arms were suddenly hooked under yours to help you take some water into your mouth before helping you lay back in his lap. With your eyes closed, you held your breath for a moment and then swallowed.

You could feel that the hiccups had passed when you sat up again with Spencer. The two of you moved in silence against the nearest wall to support you both as he held you.

“I am so sorry Spencer. I ruined your surprise for me, and I probably freaked everyone out and I feel so bad because you all tired really hard to make it special for me. I’m so stupid.”

“Shh, Y/n don’t feel bad, please, I got carried away. I of all people should have paid more attention. This celebration was supposed to be about you, and I had every opportunity to ask if this would be overwhelming, but I didn’t and I’m sorry.” Spencer couldn’t meet your eyes. Hurting you was never, ever his intention. You repositioned yourself between his legs, this time slightly on your side to lay your cheek against his chest, almost to comfort him. Instinctually, his arms wrapped around you. You wondered what he meant when he said he of all people should have paid more attention.

“As for the team, this was nothing for them, especially nothing new. We all get panic attacks, and we all have triggers, so the team understand. I understand. Just before you joined the team, I had a meltdown on the jet of all places. Luke’s headphones were rattling every time the bass in his music was particularly low and I spent twenty minutes throwing up and screaming in the bathroom before passing out from how exhausted I was.” It wasn’t funny, but he let out a small laugh. “Matt told me he almost peed himself.”

“You passed out in the bathroom?”

“Yeah, it was bad. I probably should have remembered to eat before we got on the plane, but I am not exactly consistent in the food department. It was a lot of dry heaving.”

You let yourself chuckle at the story as you pressed further into him. You were able to match your breathing to his and the resonance of his voice in his chest was comforting, almost like brown noise. His cologne smelled sweet and full like autumn and his cardigan was soft against your face. Thinking through all your sense was a way you helped calm yourself down, and you were grateful that everything about Spencer in this moment seemed to be sensory friendly.

“I’m sorry for laughing.”

“It’s okay, it just goes to show that the team doesn’t care about stuff like that. They just want to make sure you’re alright.”

“Can I ask you something?” you questioned tentatively.

“Yeah?”

“Why do you have meltdowns?”

“I’m actually autistic. I wasn’t diagnosed until I started at the bureau. My old supervisor, Hotch, helped me get a diagnosis so he could officially request accommodations for me.”

“Oh. That was nice of him.”

“Yeah, he was great. Emily has helped me adjust them too since she became unit chief. After coming back from prison, a lot of things had changed, so we updated what I needed, and things have been going pretty well so far. There’s a lot more noted in my file. If you ever feel like taking a look, you have my full permission.” Spencer said this almost knowingly, like he was nudging you to ask more questions, or to give him some indication that this was helping.

You could tell he had his suspicions about what exactly was going on, so you decided now was as good a time as any to tell him.

“I was diagnosed during my PhD program a few years ago; also with autism if that wasn’t clear, sorry. A professor who was supervising my research on neurodivergence in criminal behavioral analysis suggested I get evaluated.” You were almost ashamed to admit this next part. “I’ve never had any accommodations before. I don’t even know what I would need or what would help.”

“That’s okay. You don’t have to know everything or even do it on your own. That’s why I said my file is open if you want to take a look. Sometimes you don’t know you need or want something until you know it’s an option. It was a lot of trial and error to get to where I am now, and there were a lot of bumps along the way, trust me, but it gets easier. I promise.”

“Thanks, Spence.”

“You are incredibly strong, y/n, there is no doubt about that, but you don’t have to do this alone.”

Eventually the two of you made your way off the floor. You sat in one of the rolling office chairs, music in your headphones, while Reid took down the balloons and moved them out of the conference room. When he entered again, a few of your colleagues came in with him to check on you.

“Do you think it’s alright if Luke and Penny come in? They wanted to make sure you were okay.” You nodded your head and removed your headphones. Things seemed calm enough and the foam was starting to irritate you.

Luke immediately signed to you, asking if you were okay, to which you responded you were, just a little tired. It surprised you that he remembered you signing before they left, but you were grateful.

“Sorry about the touching,” Luke signed back.

“It’s okay, you didn’t know. I’m okay with it now.”

That was his cue to make his way over you. He ruffled your hair a bit before you hugged him from your seat.

“Thank you for signing with me,” you said as you pulled away.

“Anything for you.”

Penelope came and kneeled next to you. She gently placed her hand on your knee and rubbed little circles. It was calming; she always knew how to put you at ease.

“Hey sugar, I am so sorry about all of this. Are you feeling alright now?”

“Yeah, Pen, I’m alright. Alright enough to have some cake, maybe? If that’s alright?”

“Omg yes absolutely!” You chuckled as Penelope rushed around the room to find plates, utensils, and all the necessary accoutrement for serving you the dessert she baked herself. Spencer knew you well enough to know your favorite cake and asked her to help him since his cooking skills were basically nonexistent.

“Do you think you could get the rest of the team to come back in?” you said to Luke.

“Absolutely, are you sure you’re okay?”

You nodded your head and he left to grab everyone else. Spencer turned the lights back on and moved to a chair by your side. His hand found yours and squeezed it as the team filed back in.

“If it’s alright, I’d like to say something to you all,” you started. Reid gave an assuring nod as everyone found seats around the conference room. Any concern they had was alleviated as they saw you smile at the sight of them. Despite the hectic events of the day, you were really grateful to have the team in your life.

“I wanna say thank you for wanting to celebrate my birthday. As you have probably gathered, I am not used to this kind of thing. I haven’t really told anyone this but I’m autistic so I can have a hard time with surprises or changes in my routine. Please don’t feel bad for my reaction, there was no way you would have known since I didn’t tell you. It was just a bit overwhelming to have so much going on today. I don’t ever really celebrate my birthday. That said, I am so grateful to all of you for wanting to make this special for me. I’m really happy that I have all of you in my life and I hope we can all still have some cake and such but just maybe we don’t like pop a bunch of things and have loud music on and yell and stuff all at the same time anymore. I mean been there done that, am I right?” Luckily the team let out a collective laugh at the lighthearted ending of your speech showing there was no animosity here or need for concern or guilt.

***

Spencer drove you home after the party. The team hadn’t had a case all week, so Emily let you take the rest of the day off to recover from all the excitement. The radio quietly lulled in the background as you curled up in the passenger seat. Reid was a very cautious driver normally, he was a both hands on the wheel kind of guy, but he wanted to give you some kind of comfort, so he let his right hand find yours over the center console. You gladly took it, staring up at your colleague to watch him drive. His brow furrowed in this really cute v shape when he concentrated that you couldn’t help but smile at. Normally you wouldn’t allow yourself to stare like this, but the combination of how tired you were and how comfortable Spencer made you feel had you dropping your mask in ways you never imagined you would, or even could.

As he scrunched up his nose at a red light, a loc of hair fell from behind his ear into his face. He turned to look at you, disappointed, when your hand left his, but you quickly reached up and tucked the loose curls back behind his ear. Lingering for a moment on his cheek, you placed your hand back in his. For all the comfort he offered you today, you wanted to offer him some in return. He smiled as a thank you before the horn of the car behind his loudly let you know the light was green.

“Well, this is me,” you said as Spencer pulled up to your apartment building.

“I guess it is.”

The two of you lingered in the car. Neither of you wanted to part just yet, but someone needed to say it.

“Spence?”

“Yeah, y/n?”

“Would you want to come in? Maybe? I have coffee or tea or water or really anything I actually just went to the store yesterday so the pantry and fridge are like full and everything and maybe you could like stay and we could watch a movie or something? I was gonna do that anyway because it’s like a birthday tradition for me I guess so I thought maybe you might wanna come up but it’s also like totally cool if you had other plans or even if you just don’t want to you don’t have t-”

“Y/n, slow down. If you would have me, I’d really like to stay.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really.”

The two of you headed upstairs to your apartment. It wasn’t very big, but that made it incredibly cozy. The dark blue walls paired with your deep orange sofa made you feel at home. When you moved in, you did your best to make walking inside feel like a deep pressure hug, and although it wasn’t perfect yet, you immediately eased up upon entering.

“Your place looks incredible.”

“Thanks, it’s not perfect, or even clean really, but it always feels nice to come home to.”

The two of you headed into your kitchen as you pulled down a cup for yourself.

“Do you have a cup preference? I guess first I should be asking what you want to drink.” You rummaged momentarily through the fridge and started to rattle off beverage choices. “I’ve got coffee and tea like I said, and hot chocolate for hot drinks, and in the fridge, I’ve got sparkling water, regular water, both bottled and from the filter, lemonade, iced tea, its peach, apple juice, orange juice, protein shakes, meal replacement shakes, chocolate milk, that’s what I’m having, regular milk, almond milk, soy milk, coconut water-”

“Do you really have that many drink options?” Spencer seemed genuinely shocked by your list. You couldn’t quite tell if that was good or bad, though.

“Yeah, not really great with most foods but I love a good beverage. I like to make mocktails in my free time too, so I have a lot of options. Which reminds me I have some alcohol-free liquor if you really wanna party”

“I think I’ll stick to water; I haven’t had any today so it's probably a good idea. And if its okay, I'd like some ice?”

“Excellent choice, sir. And for your cup?” Spencer gave you a slightly puzzled look when you asked him about his cup preference. “For routine reasons I have a particular cup I like to use for particular liquids, so I wasn’t sure if you have any preference. And for sensory reasons, there’s also some kind of cups I can’t use at all, like anything with matte or frosted plastic and anything with a thick rim, and also anything that is bigger at the bottom than it is at the top like wine glasses. So sorry if you’re looking for a wine glass, but, uh, I have most other cups.” Reid stared blankly for a moment, and you couldn’t quite tell what he was thinking. Eventually he gave a slight nod, like he was moving past something, overlooking something weird and continuing with the conversation. It wasn’t exactly settling to see that look on his face.

“Um, I’ll take something tall please, and glass, I don’t really like to drink from plastic cups.”

You shuffled for a moment and found something you thought would work. Reid nodded in approval at a tall, clear glass with flat ridges on the side. After filling both of your glasses, the two of you headed to the couch. A cute set of mosaic coasters sat in a stack on the coffee table, which you quickly slid under each of your drinks.

“Cool coasters.”

“Thanks, I made them! I like to take up a lot of crafty hobbies, keeps my hands busy and distracted especially from some of my more harmful stims. My fine motor skills aren’t so great, so they are a bit messy, but I think they turned out alright.”

Immediately you felt heat rushing to your face. Spencer once again seemed confused and surprised by the sudden burst of personal information. For some reason you couldn’t shut up around Spencer. You were starting to notice just how much information about yourself you had given him involuntarily since he stepped into your apartment. It was weird to be with someone in the place you usually unmask; you hadn’t ever brought anyone into your apartment like this and now you were scaring Reid away.

After catching yourself talking so openly to Spencer so quickly, you tried your best to be quiet. In a feeble attempt to collect your thoughts, you excused yourself from the room.

“I think I’m going to change, if that’s alright with you.”

“Yeah of course, get comfortable.”

You changed into some pajamas and brought out a hoodie and an array of pajama pants and shorts as well as some sweats for Spencer.

“I don’t know what exactly of these things will fit you, but you can try anything you want to on in the bathroom just over there. I feel bad getting cozy when you didn’t bring anything to wear.”

“Wow, um thanks y/n, thank you. I’ll go try these.”

Spencer gently took the stack and plodded off to the bathroom. Everything since you walked in the door seemed to be weird or confusing to Spencer. He had been nothing but sweet and kind and normal all day and you’ve been making a fool of yourself at every opportunity. You didn’t want Reid thinking you were too weird.

You did your best to sit incredibly still on the couch waiting for Spencer to return from the bathroom. You could feel yourself wanting to stim but didn’t want to let yourself get carried away. Stimming would mean unmasking more and that was something you couldn’t handle. You already blurted out that you stim so much you hurt yourself sometimes, the least you could do was not let him see it. Eventually he returned with your hoodie and a pair of your pajama pants on. His mismatched socked poked out of the bottom clashing with the Christmas print of the flannel pants but, somehow, he made it work.

Spencer placed his neatly folded clothes on the floor next to the couch before sitting down next to you. You had laid a few blanket options out on the coffee table.

“Take your pick, Reid. I got a variety out to see what you liked best.”

Spencer stared at the blankets, reaching out to gently touch each one.

“Hey, y/n, thank you.”

It was your turned to look puzzled this time. Why was he thanking you?

“For what?”

“Well, it’s just you’ve been very considerate with everything, and I’ve never had anyone really think about me this much when I’ve been at their house. I mean I guess it’s not really their fault, they aren’t autistic so they might not even know that things like cups or drink options or fabric textures might be hard for me,” Spencer rambled as he started to lightly flap his hands. This was the first time you had ever seen Spencer stim in front of you. “But it’s just really nice to be around someone who understands without me having to ask. I didn’t think that was even possible.” Reid even let a little tear slip from his eye as rocked back and forth and shut his eyes really tight. You could tell now that this was what he wanted to do in the car. This was probably what he wanted to do every time he scrunched up his face for a split second but didn’t want the team to see him like this.

Everything started to make sense. Spencer wasn’t weirded out by what you had said. He was simply in shock. Neither of you had been around other autistic people much, let alone had an autistic friend before. He was just excited to finally have someone he could feel comfortable around. You let out a breath that you didn’t know you were holding and jerked your head back happily.

“Thank god that’s what this is about. I thought you thought I was weird or something.”

The two of you let out a big laugh and stimmed together for the first time. You even let yourself vocal stims, letting out a few high-pitched yips before going to take a sip of your chocolate milk.

There was a softness now between you two that wasn’t there before. So much of socializing was rigid for you, a constant guessing game of rules and lists and cues where you felt you had to deduce some kind of invisible formula from the facts of the situation in order to communicate, or at least not make a fool of yourself. The same could be said for Spencer. The way you two had to walk through the world was not conducive to who you wanted to be. But now, after today, there was no pressure to guess.

“Oh! Since this is my first time having another autistic person over, I can finally get out my stim toy box!” Immediately you rushed to your bedroom and pulled out a small plastic bin filled with all kinds of stim toys. “I usually use these when I watch a movie, so I don’t end up texting or playing a game on my phone and missing the whole plot, which happens more often than I’d like to admit.”

“This is the coolest thing ever! Remind me to show you my stim toy drawer at work when we go in tomorrow.” The two of you picked out a few stim toys to hold onto for the movie. The blanket Spencer picked was big enough for the two of you to share so you both snuggled up close to each other and got comfortable.

As the movie progressed, you found yourself wanting more touch from Spencer. With his permission you climbed into his lap and curled up on his chest with your arms around his shoulders. He squeezed back tightly around your middle, bringing you two even closer. Spencer placed a small kiss on the top of your head.

You looked up at him. His big hazel eyes looked back at you as he smiled.

“What was that for?” you questioned with a smile.

“I just really like you is all. I’m sorry I didn’t ask.”

“It’s okay. I really like you too. Like romantically. You weren’t exactly specific.”

“I like you romantically.”

“Okay cool because it would be really awkward right now if you didn’t.”

Your hands found Spencer’s cheeks as you leaned in and placed your lips on his. The both of you couldn’t help but smile into your first kiss. It was sweet and full and long overdue. The two of you felt made for each other in this moment, perfectly fitting into one another as you moved in sync through the kiss. When you finally pulled away, movie completely abandoned at this point, you couldn’t help but burry yourself in Spencer’s chest, pushing the two of you back on the couch laying down. All Reid could do in this moment was gently card his finger through your hair, smiling lazily at the ceiling with you starting to silently drift off. The day hadn’t been perfect, but you seemed happy now and that was enough for him.

“I think your birthday is my new favorite holiday,” he said to himself, as you were now fully asleep on his chest. “Happy birthday, y/n”

[venusianelf]

The Living Weighted Blanket

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Autistic! Reader

Genre: Fluff, Only One Bed Trope

Summary: You’ve had a crush on Spencer for the longest time but have managed to keep it fairly hidden. What happens when you have to room with him for the night? Cuddles and fluff, that’s what!

Warnings: Reader isn’t written with any gender in mind, mentions of anxiety, some coercion of Penelope making the reader tell her who they has a crush on, reader is shy and a little awkward, some embarrassment when the team finds out, some swearing, a few uses of Y/n

Word Count: ~1,700

A/N: Spencer and the reader are established friends. I’m on season 6 so this is that version of the team. I tried to write more of the team into this one since the first one didn’t mention most of them. So I hope it’s fairly accurate to their characters. I’m also not super used to writing for Spencer either so hopefully it’s alright. I have no idea how I wrote another 1,000+ word fic but hell yea! Also, not my gif but I found it off Pinterest so :/

You had been working at the BAU for a year now and had a major crush on one Spencer Reid. The problem is there was no way in hell you were ever going to tell him. While you hated lying (and were pretty bad at it), you had to try your best because you couldn’t under any circumstances embarrass yourself. Although because the team knew of your autism and social anxiety it made it a little easier to hide. Avoiding eye contact? You were overwhelmed today. Blushing when he brought you coffee? You were shy anyways.

It worked out pretty well until it didn’t. That would be the day that your best friend Penny caught you daydreaming once again. “So sugar, what’s got you in wonderland today?” She smirked as you got pulled out of your thoughts. “Huh? Oh, nothing Pen.” “C’mon I know you better than that. You were obviously thinking about something. Ooh! Wait, lemme guess, were you daydreaming about Mister three PHDs? You two have been getting closer recently.” “What?! No, he’s just a friend!” You shrieked as you started picking at your nails. “Oh. My. God. You like him!” She squealed as she danced around her room. “Penny, I swear if you say anything to anyone on the team I will steal your glasses and hide them where you’ll never find them.” “Geez, that's harsh Y/n, but I promise these lips are sealed.” She said, motioning a zipper across her mouth. “Although I make no promise not to tell Kevin.” She giggled. “Fine but only him, if you tell Morgan or anyone else on our team your glasses will be gone.” I sighed, hoping she would be able to contain her excitement for new gossip.  “You got it, babe. Now tell me everything about your little crush.” She smiled as she sat back down next to me. 

Today we had a case in a small town in Oklahoma, which unfortunately meant social interaction with those outside of the team. Once we landed Hotch immediately sent Spencer and me to the station to set up shop. When we got there I realized we wouldn’t have our own office. I unconsciously started scratching myself at this realization. To which Spencer picked up quickly, “Hey, it’s going to be alright. You brought your ear defenders right?” He asked in a soft comforting tone. “I- Yeah, I brought them. I just don’t like being around all these people.” I replied as I tried to switch to rocking instead of scratching. “I know but it’ll be better tonight when we can have our own rooms at the hotel.” He said, calming my worries. 

As we settled in I got a few odd stares from my odd behavior but I did my best to ignore it. Spencer started on his geographical profiling and I started on going through the letters left by the unsub. Over a few hours, the team slowly tricked into the station with Hotch arriving last. “Guys, I have some bad news. They only had four open rooms at the hotel, so we’ll be two to a room.” Everyone groaned at Hotch’s proclamation but internally I started freaking out about who I would even room with. The girls were nice of course but other than Penelope I wasn’t close to them. “Hey, Y/n I can tell you’re panicking. If it helps you can room with me and I’ll take the couch.” Spencer said drawing me out of my worries. “Uhm, yeah that would help. Thank you, Spence.” “No Problem.” He replied, smiling warmly at me.

While I was somewhat flustered at the idea of sharing the room with my crush, it was still better than the anxiety of sharing with someone I wasn’t close to. As we got to our room Spencer went first to clean in the bathroom as I unpacked my things. I got out my book and headphones while I waited for him to finish. “What’re you reading?” He asked as he got out of the bathroom. “Hm? Oh, it’s American Gods by Neil Gaiman. Sorry, I didn’t hear you get out of the shower.” I replied, taking off my headphones and marking my place. “Well I would think with headphones on that it would be hard to hear that. Anyways, what’s it about?” He asked knowing that asking me about my interests helped me unwind. “Oh! It’s about this guy who gets out of prison early after his wife dies and then starts working for a mysterious guy who insists he’s a god. It’s kind of dark but it’s really good!” I rambled excitedly. “Hm, I don’t read fiction very much but if you say it’s good then I’ll have to check it out sometime.” He said as he started unpacking his things. “If you want you can borrow my copy when I’m done.” You offered as you started gathering your things to take a shower and get ready for bed. “I’ll take you up on that.” He smiled as he got comfy on the couch.

Once I was done with my shower and headed back out I noticed that Spencer seemed to be quite cramped as he tried to relax on the couch. I contemplated offering to share the bed with him before I decided fuck it, what’s the worst that could happen. “Hey Spence, if you’re uncomfortable on the couch you’re welcome to share the bed with me,” I said sheepishly as I put away my clothes from earlier today. “Are you sure? I know you aren’t too fond of people being too close.” He asked as he sat up. “Yeah, I’m sure. I don’t mind being close to you since we’re good friends.” I replied, getting in bed and patting the empty place next to me. “Alright, but let me know if you get uncomfortable.” He conceded as he climbed into bed next to me. 

After continuing to read for about an hour Spencer and I decided it was time to get some shut-eye. “Spence?” “Yeah Y/n?” “Um, could we cuddle if you’re okay with it? I always leave my weighted blanket at home since it’s so heavy but it makes me sleep worse without it.” I asked timidly. “Haha, yeah I’m okay being your weighted blanket.” He laughed as he put his arm around my waist and pulled me towards him. “You’re not just my weighted blanket.” I pouted. “Okay well, either way, I’m good with cuddling you if it means it’ll help you sleep.” He laughed as I could feel the reverberations in my body. It was oddly comforting. “Thank you,” I said softly before I shut my eyes. “Not a problem,” I vaguely heard him say as I felt him press a soft kiss to my head before I fell asleep.

When I woke the next morning I was surprised to find Spencer still asleep. Turning around in his grasp I mentally traced the features of his face. He looked so peaceful while he was asleep. Although slowly I felt him wake from my movements. As his eyes flickered open I hid my face in his chest. “Good morning,” He said as he brought his arm from my waist to my back as he drew circles. “Good morning,” I responded. “Is there a reason you’re hiding?” He asked, clearly amused. “Um, no reason.” I squeaked out as I hid further. He laughed as he moved his hand under my chin and pointed my face up towards his. “Hi,” I said shyly as I focused my gaze on his hair. “Hi there,” he responded, smiling playfully. He moved a strand of my hair behind my ear as he mapped my features.  “Y/n, I like you.” He breathed out, gazing into your eyes. Your eyes widened as you took in what he said. “I- Um, I like you too Spence.” You responded in kind as you went to hide in his shirt again. “Uh-uh, come back here,” He laughed as he cupped your cheek. “May I kiss you?” He asked as you shyly nodded. 

You felt his hot breath ghost over your lips before you felt the impact. His lips were way softer than you imagined they would be. The kiss was gentle and loving as if he was trying to convey his feelings to you through touch rather than words. As you two separated you hid back in his shirt. “Back into hiding, are you?” He laughed. “Mhm,” you nodded. “Alright well, pumpkin we need to get up now. I’d love to take you on a real date when we finish this case though.” He said running his fingers through your hair. “I’d love that,” You responded as he helped you out of bed.

When you met back up with the team for breakfast, you and Spencer were holding hands. “I told you! Oh my god, I need to call Penny!” Morgan laughed as he pulled out his phone. “Knock it off Derek, you’re gonna embarrass them,” Emily laughed as she turned to smile apologetically at you. “What? What are you guys talking about?” Spencer asked as you blushed and tried to distract yourself with your phone. “We all knew you two liked each other, and we had a bet going on whether or not sharing a room would force a confession. Plus we’re profilers, what did you expect?” Derek laughed as he got handed ten bucks from Rossi and five bucks from Emily. “That and Pen may have told us about your little secret,” JJ added apologetically, smiling at you. “I swear to the gods! I told her if she told anyone I’d hide her glasses!!” You shrieked as the crowd laughed. “Well that’s gonna be a sight to see,” Morgan laughed. “Either way, good for you kids,” Rossi smiled as he went back to his newspaper. “Agreed, just keep it professional when we need you two to be,” Hotch added, smiling at you two. “Of course,” You responded. As you looked over at Spencer he seemed to be more flustered by the situation than you were. You squeezed his hand and smiled as heartwarmingly as you could when he looked over to provide some semblance of comfort to his embarrassment.

[assassinmidnight]

Their resident Genius

The BAU is called in by Scotland Yard to help with a case, Spencer becomes intrigued when he hears that they have their own resident genius.

_________

Spencer Reid x Holmes!Autistic!Female!reader

_________

Honestly Spencer was unsure why Scotland Yard had called them in, he always knew that their team was one of the best but the fact that Scotland Yard had called them in had surprised the Genius a lot.

--

“Okay team, we’ve been called in by the English. We’re gonna be gone for a bit so pack accordingly. Airstrip in 30,” Hotch called. “Wait, the English? You mean Scotland Yard? Scotland Yard called US in, why?” 

“Really Reid, I thought you’d be the most excited to meet their team. Apparently they have their own resident genius,” The reply from Hotch had Morgan smiling “Resident Genius? Is he smarter than Reid? Man I have to see this,”

--

During the entire flight Spencer had been thinking of the so-called Genius. He didn’t really believe in genius as a word but he had become intrigued. He wondered if Hotch was honest, if he was correctly informed. Spencer had for a long time kept track of Scotland Yard but he’d only heard of Sherlock Holmes being their resident genius, but he was a consultant not an official agent. Did he decide to join them officially?

“Reid stop, I can hear the cogs turning in your head and it’s keeping me from my sleep,” 

“Shut up Morgan,” Morgan looked over “Reid I get it, you’re stressed about meeting new people and maybe even someone who can go against you in brainiac power. But dude chill, it’s gonna be all good, chances are they aren’t even close to your level.” 

Spencer took that into consideration, it’s true most people who are called geniuses aren’t close to his level.”

_

“Okay team we’re gonna meet the people from Scotland Yard. Behave,” Hotch sounded more serious than he looked.

Spencer was surprised when they entered the building, it was nothing like their own. This place was not messy or filled with people stuffing the rooms, it was all quiet and strict as if it was a classroom. “This way to the office,” Hotch pointed towards a room and they all headed there.

“Ah Agent Hotch, thank you for coming,” The man smiled and shook hands with Hotch, “This must be your famous team of profilers,” The man quickly looked at his watch before looking up again. “We should wait with the introductions, one of ours is running late,” Morgan smirked “Your resident genius?” The man looked up surprised before nodding, he looked like he was about to answer but got interrupted by the door swinging open.

“I’m sorry for being late, you know how my brother is,” A woman came in, a bit out of breath. She looked around 21 and had (y/h) colored hair, quite long too.

She seemed to realize the company they had and went beet red, Spencer thought she looked pretty cute. 

She turned back to the man, “So this is the BAU team lestrade? The best profilers,” 

“Wait you’re Greg Lestrade? You worked with Sherlock and Dr. Watson,” The two brits looked over at Reid, the girl cocked her head to the side before smiling. “Dr. Reid I presume. I’ve read a lot about you, three PhDs and working for the FBI at 24, impressive,” now Reid turned red earning a laugh from Morgan. “You did your homework,” The woman looked at Morgan, “Yes I did, I like knowing who come here, Agent Morgan.” 

“Y/n behave. I know you prefer working alone but no need to be rude, you are better than your brothers aren't you?” The girl named Y/n sighed and nodded. “Good, introduce us to the UnSub.”

__

Throughout the entire briefing Spencer had been staring at Y/N, he couldn’t figure out how such a young woman was part of Scotland Yard. He tried to profile her but all he could decipher from her movements, which were many. She fidgeted a lot, tended to stare at the wall and kept her arms crossed over her chest. She was distracted, bored and introverted. That profile didn’t fit someone in this field. 

“Yes Y/N?” Hotch's voice brought Spencer from his thoughts.

“Dr. Reid, why are you staring at me so much? Is it really that hard to profile me?” Her voice was quite gleeful. She was proud, she had an advantage and she knew that. “Mm, yes sorry, I was profiling you but it wasn’t hard. You are clearly bored by this, unfocused throughout the entire briefing and you are closed off. These are not common attributes in Agents, that’s why I was staring,” He felt pretty proud of himself until “You didn’t introduce me Detective?” “No, I thought it best to keep the introductions til we're all here. But it seems like you know them well enough which I expected but you should probably introduce yourself,” Lestrade smiled and Y/N nodded. “My name is Y/N Holmes, little sister of both Mycroft and Sherlock. I am the one who usually works alone in my cave but apparently I was needed for this case. And no Dr. Reid I was not bored or unfocused, quite the opposite actually. I was just in my mind palace,”

“You’re the sister of Sherlock? Wait you’re the resident Genius,” Y/N laughed at Morgan’s reaction. Once again she cocked her head to the side, smiling. “How many PhDs?” She turned to Reid, “None, school bores me. Also resident genius isn’t what I would call myself, creative genius with hypersensitivity. All the Holmes boys got none of the emotion so I got all of it,” Reid nodded. “Well now that we’ve been introduced to the most interesting thing in England, how about we get started.”

__

“You still thinking about Miss smartypants, Pretty boy?” Reid tossed a pillow at Derek, but he did nod. “There is something about her, she wasn’t looking at me but knew that I was watching her. She assumed Lestrade had introduced her to us but was happy when she got to do it herself and she pointed out that she is more creative and sensitive than her brothers who are known sociopaths. I can’t understand her brain, or her profile,” Morgan stared at Reid before laughing “Dude it sound like you have a crush on Miss Holmes, well if she is as smart as they say your kids will definitely be something out of this world,” Morgan kept on laughing even when Spencer turned around on his bed.

__

“Welcome to my cave, don’t touch anything without asking.” Y/N was stern, her look was cold as well Spence nodded. “So um, why am I working here instead of in the field?” he asked, she looked at him annoyed before turning to her screen. “Because your boss thought it would be best to keep the two geniuses in the same room.”

The two kept working, Reid was surprised at all the tea Y/N was drinking and how she compulsively played with her bracelets whenever she was thinking. OCD, that did fit but something still felt off. “Just ask, get it out of the way before you drive me absolutely nuts” she looked at him expectantly. Spencer gulped before asking the question “Why can’t I profile you? I know it’s nothing on my end so it must be something on yours,” She shook her head and smiled, looking back at her screen. Spencer sighed thinking she wasn’t going to answer. 

“I am autistic with traces of OCD and dyslexia, that’s why you can’t profile me. I don’t fit the general profile for autistics. I have a deep emotional understanding but I lack logical intelligence that is usually paired with the diagnosis. My OCD traces are caused by my autism and the compulsive behaviors are mainly caused by anxiety. I suffered deep trauma in my childhood like both my brothers but unlike them I never emotionally distanced myself, this is why you can’t profile me Reid, I don’t fit the general profiles just like you,”He was surprised at her answer but considering what she just said he really shouldn’t have. 

“Wow, that’s- that’s a lot. Wait, you profiled me?” He was genuinely surprised, she laughed at him, breaking her cold act. “No I didn’t, but most intelligent people are the same,” he nodded before laughing with her.

__

“So thanks to the BAU and our own Agents we’ve managed to catch this killer and he will soon be behind bars,” JJ announced on the news. The team were currently at Lestrades house having a drink. Reid kept looking over to Y/N, ever since they’d solved the case she’d been distant towards him, it hurt for some reason. He thought they were getting along, especially after they’d started to talk about Dr. WHO, guess not. 

“Something wrong, Reid?” He turned and saw that the voice belonged to Lestrade, he nodded. “In my experience with the Holmes siblings, they rarely act like this unless it’s something that will actually impact them. You should talk to her, as much as she detests it she is like her brothers and when angry instead of being consumed by emotions like them she turns them off and goes all logical. Easy to have a conversation with if you watch your words,” When Spencer didn’t move Lestrade pushed him slightly making him go over to Y/N.

“Why are you ignoring me?” She turned to him, cup of tea in her hand, she sighed then gave him a strained smile. “Reid, go back to your team,” “Not until you tell me why you’ve been ignoring me?” She gave him a cold look before sighing again. “I have been ignoring you because I like you, Reid. You are going back to America so I am simply distancing myself to get used to not having you around any more. It’s all logical,” 

“You like me?” he was genuinely surprised, he found Y/N cute and even had a bit of a crush on her, something he’d never admit to Morgan but he never thought she liked him back.

“Of course I like you. You are smart and cute and have these small quirks about you. You are funny and a geek and get almost every single of my pop culture references,” Reid just looked at her with fond eyes, she liked him back and was now rambling on about why. It was cute, really cute. He pressed his lips against hers, successfully muffling her rambles. She seemed surprised at first but soon reprocrated the kiss.

“WHO IS THAT GUY KISSING MY BABY SISTER!” The two geniuses broke apart, red and turned to the voice. Seems like Sherlock Holmes had invited himself in and based on the look in his eyes said one thing, the high functioning sociopath was not happy with Reid kissing his sister.

[sugars-fluffy-escapes]

hello! for the sentence starters, may you do ler!spencer and autistic!lee!reader with “you better fix that pout…”

"You better fix that pout..."

Y/N briefly glanced up at Spencer, who'd been attempting to cheer up his coworker after their bout of burnout from a heavy case. They glanced back down, tugging at their sleeves and taking a breath.

"O-Or what...?" Their tired, stoic expression was overtaken by a smile creeping up on their lips, as they saw the Dr. slowly lift his wiggling fingers.

"Or, I'm gonna tickle you until you can't stop giggling."

His coworker slowly scooted back in their chair and bit their lip, the urge to happy stim building up in their nervous system. The closer Spencer got, the harder it was to stop their laughter. A squeal, followed by giggles, emitted from their lips when Spencer's wiggling fingers stopped centimeters from their sides, stims overtaking their hands, and soon, their legs.

"Spehehehenceheher!"

"Yes? Would you have preferred that I just-" He began to poke at their sides, giving their ribs the occasional clawing and grinning at the melodic laughter and giggles that left Y/N's lips. His fingers spider crawled to their upper ribs, and suddenly, he was gently attacking the weak spot under their arms.

"SPEHEHENCEHEHERAAAHAHAHAAA! NAHAHAT THEHEHEHEHRRE NAHAHAHAT THEHERRRRE!" Their laughter was loud, carefree, and gleeful, and their mask was completely down as they stimmed with sheer giddiness.

"Aren't you glad you told me about this precious special interest of yours, Y/N?"

Y/N didn't say it aloud, but they absolutely were.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This prompt was so CUTE 😭💖 ugh I can't /lh /pos

Pls forgive the self indulgence (Guess who still has to mail out the packet for the next steps toward an autism diagnosis- 💀 The comorbidity of ADHD and autism is a rollercoaster and I haven't figured out how to navigate it)

I love the idea of Spencer tickling the reader and encouraging their stimming and helping them feel safe enough to stop masking. (I'd be happy stimming for days after that 🤭😖🥴 /pos)

Thank you so so much for this prompt, anon! I hope I did it justice 🥺🖤 /gen

[thatgirlstrawberry]

Different

In which Spencer meets Charlotte in a library and notices that she's different

Spencer Reid x fem!OC

Warnings: Fluff, Angst? Disclaimer: I am not trying romanticize or sexualize autism!!! My little sister has autism and loves Spencer Reid as much as I do so this is dedicated to her. All of the things that Charlotte does is based off of my sister's actions and words. Everyone is different <3

Spencer had been looking for this particular book for weeks. He'd been to every book store, library, and website out there. All except for one library. He didn't even know it existed until Garcia looked it up.

So, he was on his way now to a small library on the corner of Garner Street. He was practically buzzing with excitement. He could barely contain his smile as he opened the glass door and swung it open.

The inside was dim and warm. It looked old but cozy. No matter what, Spencer liked it. It reminded him of his own apartment. In the middle there was a large desk. It was wooden and had a dark gold colored top. Patterns of lions and other animals were engraved in it. The doctor smiled as a girl popped up from behind the desk. She had long brown hair and glasses that sat low on the bridge of her nose. She didn't look up at the door where he was standing. She kept her gaze on the desk.

The girl bent down again and picked up a stack of books. She set them on the counter and with one hand, began to absent-mindedly trace some of the patterns on the counter. She slid down one book at a time and checked them back into the database.

Spencer cleared his throat quietly, tearing his eyes away from the girl. His feet carried him to the dozens of shelves that lined the walls. Hundreds of books stared at him but he was only looking for one. After about ten minutes of searching Spencer sighed and walked around one of the book shelves.

He stopped when he saw the girl who was behind the desk, sorting books. She was facing away from him and humming to herself.

He cleared his throat and took in a breath. "Uh, excuse me."

The girl stopped humming and turned around. Her eyes stayed on the ground the entire time. "Hello." Her voice was quiet. Her hands fidgeted with each other.

Spencer tilted his head slightly. "Um I-i-i... I'm looking for a book. Um. Pensées. It's by-"

He was cut off when the girl walked away. "Blaise Pascal." She said. "Follow me." The doctor didn't waste any time as he followed her through the library. Her steps were quick and he almost struggled to keep up with her. She mumbled things to herself and her hands played with each other.

When she got to a shelf on the far end of the building, she ran her finger tips across the spines of about twelve books and stopped. She pulled out a dark green book. "Pensées by Blaise Pascall." She handed the book to the tall man. "Originally published in 1670. Original language: French." Her eyes traced the patterns on the carpet as she spoke. The dark red spirals caught her interest.

"Thank you." Spencer breathed out.

"Is that all you need help with?" She asked.

The doctor bit the inside of his cheek and shook his head, trying to figure put why she wouldn't look at him. "No. N-no thank you. I appreciate the help."

There was a pause before the girl spoke again. "Okay." She nodded her head once and spun on her heel. She walked towards the desk again and sat herself on the stool. Spencer furrowed his eyebrows. His gut was telling him to talk to her.

So, he walked around to the desk and set the book on the counter. "Hi." The girl stopped fidgeting with her hands and took the scanner from her right side. "I'm Spencer."

The girl scanned the book. "Hello, Spencer. I'm Charlotte and I'm feeling purple today." Spencer raised his eyebrows at her introduction. "My mom says to always let people know how I'm feeling so they don't make me upset." She had a small smile on her face. Once that Spencer found absolutely adorable.

"That's very nice, Charlotte." Now Spencer knew. Charlotte was autistic. "How long have you worked here?" He asked as she printed out a receipt for when he had to bring it back.

Charlotte smiled a little. "Well, the building was built in 1982. I started working here last year." She explained. Spencer nodded. "You have to bring this back in two weeks. Please don't fold the pages or spill anything on them." Her voice was monotone, like she was reading from a script. When she finished giving instructions, she handed the book back to him. "Here you go." Her voice went back to he way it sounded when she was explaining what color she felt.

The doctor took the book from the girl's hands and accidentally touched her fingers. She pulled her hand back quickly and held it in her other hand. "I'm sorry, Charlotte. I didn't mean to touch you." Spencer apologized in a rushed tone, hoping that he didn't make the librarian upset.

Charlotte drew in a small breath. "I-its okay. Y-you can call me Charlie if you want. My mom calls me Charlie."

Spencer smiled and nodded. "Okay. I'll see you later, Charlie."

"Okay."

The doctor smiled and nodded his head, turning and walking out of the library. Charlotte finally looked up to see him walking away and he turned around briefly to smile at her again. She shyly looked back down and began fidgeting with her fingers again.

●□●

A few hours later, Spencer was sitting at his desk. He was reading the book that he'd gotten earlier that morning. Every time he read about twelve words, he'd think of Charlotte. She was interesting to him. She was different. He had no doubt that she knew that though.

Morgan and Rossi were standing a few feet away. "Is it just me or is it taking him extra long to read that book?" Rossi asked, crossing his arms.

"I don't know but it's weird." Morgan shook his head. "He's been on the same page for two minutes."

"Crime fighters!" Rossi and Morgan turned around to see Garcia. Reid got up and looked at the three. "We have a case and it is... oh, so urgent! Round table room now." The men followed Garcia to the room. "Alright this one is nast-ay..." JJ and Blake raised their eyebrows.

Spencer closed the book that he was looking at and stuffed it into his satchel. He sighed and shook his head, getting rid of the image of Charlie that lingered in his head.

●□●

A few days went by amd Spencer was back in town. He'd finished reading Pensées on the jet ride home and couldn't wait to go back to the library to talk to Charlie. Even if it was only for a second, he missed her voice. He didn't understand how he could miss a complete stranger.

It was nine-thirty at night and the library was about to close. He ended up running so he wouldn't miss her. When he threw the door open, he scrunched his face up when he caused a cardboard sign to fall over.

An older lady looked up from the desk with an unimpressed look. Spencer took a breath and picked the cardboard sign back up, making sure it was standing correctly. When he was done, he breathlessly put his hands on his hips and smiled awkwardly at the lady.

"Hi. I'm need to return a book." He told the lady.

"Yeah. I figured." She grunted. She took put the scanner and looked at him expectantly, since he was still standing by the door.

Spencer looked at the book in his hands and back up at the lady before rushing to the counter. She took the book from him and started inspecting it for any damage. He decided to ask the question.

"Does- I'm sorry. Is Charlie- sorry. Uh is Charlotte working right now?" He stuttered out. The lady looked up at Spencer.

She sighed after taking a look at his pleading eyes. "She's in section G-J. You got five minutes before I want you out of here." Spencer smiled thankfully and rushed through the library, looking at all of the letter signs.

Once he finally found the section he turned into quickly. Her back was facing him, just like the first time they spoke to each other. Her brown hair was half up half down and she was wearing a creme colored cardigan and black leggings. She was reading the spines of books and placing them in their correct spots.

"Charlotte." The girl didn't respond. "Um... Charlie?" This time, she hummed softly before she turned around.

"Hello. Oh, I remember you. Spencer?"

The doctor smiled and stuffed his hands in his pockets. He glanced at the ground and back up, only to see that Charlie was tracing the spirals with her eyes again. "Yeah. Yeah, how- uh. How are you today?"

Charlie tapped her foot on the ground a few times. "Mmm. Chartreuse."

Spencer nodded and chuckled a little. "Is- is that good or...?"

The librarian glanced up at him for just a moment. "My mom told me to use Chartreuse for lonely days." She said quietly. Spencer nodded and silence overtook the both of them. Spencer didn't really know what to say. "I- I like your hair." She blurted.

Reid raised his eyebrows and almost gasped. "Uh- um. Th- thanks. I like- Uh I like yours too." Charlotte smiled at him directly for the first time.

"Um. I don't like awkward situations so, I think I'm gonna go now." Before Spencer could sputter out a response, Charlie grabbed the handles of the cart and pushing it towards the front desk where the lady, Agnes was grabbing the keys from under the desk amd placing them on the top.

"Can you lock up, sweetie? I've got a hot date with my hubby."

Spencer followed behind Charlie at a distance so she didn't feel smothered. "Ok. Tell Franklin I said hello."

"Will do, sugar." Agnes turned to Spencer. "And you, I want you out of here." With that, she left and made sure to watch the two before leaving.

Spencer bit his lip and watched as Charlie pushed the cart behind the desk. "You have to leave now." She told him, taking the keys off of the counter.

"Okay. Goodnight." He turned for the door. Before he could open it though he had a thought. "Um. Charlie?"

"Yes, Spencer?" She asked as she turned around.

He cleared his throat quietly and took a step towards her. "Can I walk you to your car? I wouldn't feel right letting you walk alone."

Charlotte fidgeting with her fingers before grabbing her jacket from underneath the counter and slipped it on. "Okay. You can walk me to my car." Spencer smiled and watched her as she stepped quickly towards the door.

Spencer followed her and held the door open as she walked out. She turned around and stuck the key in the hole. She made sure that the door was locked before standing up straight and letting out a sigh. "My car is over there." She pointed to a light blue Honda. She dug her keys out of her jacket pocket and smiled. She was looking at the ground but Spencer could tell that it was for him.

They began walking. It was a short distance but it felt like ten miles. When they got to the car, Charlotte unlocked it. Before she could get in, Spencer spoke. "Charlie?" His voice was quiet and hesitant.

"Yes?" She asked.

"Could I come back tomorrow?" He almost sounded scared to ask.

Charlotte furrowed her eyebrows. "I don't understand. It's a public library." Her tone was confused and she started fidgeting with her hands again. "I'm sorry I don't understand." She apologized. Her voice was worried.

"Oh, no no no. It's okay, Charlie." Spencer softly placed his hands on hers. She didn't pull away this time. "I was just asking, if it would be okay if I came back tomorrow to see... you."

Charlie bit her lip and her worried expression washed away. "Oh-oh okay."

Spencer nodded. "So it's alright? If I come see you, I mean?" Charlotte smiled and nodded as she stood up on her toes. Like a ballerina would. "Okay, I'll see you tomorrow, Charlie." She lowered herself back to the ground.

"See you tomorrow, Spencer." Charlotte turned around and opened the door to her car and got in. She started the engine and drove off.

The doctor stood there with a smile on his face and he bit his lip. His euphoric moment came to an end when his phone rang in his pocket. He groaned out loud and fished it put of his pocket. "This is doctor Reid."

"Ah hello, boy genius! I know you just got back today but, unfortunately crime never sleeps." Garcia's voice spoke.

"Yeah, yeah. I'll be right there."

His plans of seeing Charlotte the next day were completely thrown out the window and he had no way of telling her.

●□●

"So, Charlotte. How has your week been." Erica, one of Charlie's only friends asked. The two were sitting at a table in the middle of the library.

Charlie thought for a minute. "Pink." Erica raised her eyebrows. "Yes. Pink. I met this man. His name is Spencer and... I think he's pretty."

"Really?" Erica gasped. "Did you tell him that?"

Charlotte shook her head. "Mm. No. I was too nervous. I started counting to fifty in my head. It calmed my nerves a little. I also thought about ballet. I like ballet. Ballet is a type of performance dance that originated during the Italian Renaissance in the fifteenth century and later developed into a concert dance form in France and Russia. It has since become a widespread and highly technical form of dance with its own vocabulary."

Erica nodded. Charlie knew she wasn't actually interested im her fact. "So... is Spencer gonna come back anytime soon?"

Charlotte perked up and made brief eye contact with the woman. "He's actually supposed to come back today. He said he wanted to... see me. Isn't that strange? Nobody ever wants to see me." She looked back down at the table.

"Well, I'm happy for you, Charlie." Erica smiled. "But, sadly I have to go. I'm meeting my mom for lunch." The woman got up from her chair.

"See you, Erica." The woman waved and walked back behind the counter. Erica left and Charlotte tapped her fingers on the counter.

She stayed at the desk that day, waiting for Spencer to come in with the smile that she liked so much. His smile made her day when she saw it for the first time. She didn't have a color for him yet.

A few hours later, Agnes came in and saw Charlie sitting at the desk, checking out a woman's books. Once the woman left, Agnes walked up behind Charlie. "Good morning, Charlotte. How are you today?"

"Mmm. Pink." She began to tap her fingers on the counter.

Agnes smiled. "Oh. I've heard that one before. Why are you so excited?" She asked.

Charlie giggled a little and tapped her fingers faster. "Spencer wants to see... me." She told her. Agnes raised her eyebrows.

"I'm assuming that's the gentleman that was in here last night." Charlotte bit her lip and nodded. "Well, sweetheart, I'll let you stick to desk duty so you're thw first face he sees when he walks in." Agnes knew not to touch Charlie without her permission so she just blew the woman a kiss and walked away.

So, for hours after that, Charlotte checked books in and out for people happily. Every time the door opened, she'd hope it was Spencer. She'd look up for a second but then catch a total stranger's eyes. She'd look back down quickly and sigh quietly.

When nine-thirty came around, Agnes walked up to her. "Sweetie... I don't think he's coming. Are you sure you heard him right?"

"Yes!" Charlotte slammed her hand on the desk. "He said he wanted to see me! Why didn't he come?" Agnes tilted her head to the side.

She bit the inside of her cheek and sat next to Charlie. "I'm sorry, honey. I don't know why. Do you want to go to Jemma's Diner and have some pie?"

Charlie bit her lip. "Cherry?"

"Of course, sugar."

●□●

Spencer sat at a desk in Atlanta, bouncing his foot up and down. He fought the urge to bite his fingernails. He was thinking about Charlie and how he unintentionally stood her up.

Blake saw him in his anxious state and furrowed her eyebrows. "Reid? Is something wrong?" The doctor looked up from his Blake stare at the whiteboard.

"Huh? Uh- no." He shrugged.

The agent tilted her head to the side and gave him a look. "Don't lie to me, Spencer. What's going on in that head of yours?"

Reid sighed and looked around to make sure no one else was listening. "I uh... I met this girl the other day." Blake raised her eyebrows with a light smile. "She works at a library and I told her that I wanted to see her today. But, we got this case and I had no way to tell her that I couldn't see her."

Blake shrugged. "Well I'm sure she'll understand."

Spencer blushed and smiled at the thought of her.

"Ohhh. You interested in this girl?"

Spencer thought for a second. He bit the inside of his cheek. "I think I am. I just hope she doesn't hate me."

Blake laid a hand on his shoulder. "Aw. No one could ever hate you, Spencer."

The doctor smiled slightly and heard footsteps so, he turned around. "Who could never hate Reid?" Spencer looked back at Morgan and then back at Blake with a worried look. It was as if he was telling her not to say anything.

"No one. That was the whole point of it." Blake shrugged. She got up. "I'm gonna go find Hotch. There's something strange about this case." Blake walked away and Morgan placed his hand on his friend's shoulder.

"You gettin' a little lovin from some girl, Reid?" He asked with his signature smirk.

Spencer blushed and looked up at him. "No." It wasn't a lie. He barley knew this girl but she was so breathtakingly beautiful and interesting. She was smart and kind. He didn't want to imagine her upset.

---------------------------

Part 2????

Again, this is dedicated to my little sister who I love with all of my heart <3

Also! I'm working on the next chapters of 💛Sunshine💛 and Ella