#spencer reid one shot

[mggslover]

Between the lines

In which Spencer crosses paths with the woman he's been dreaming about. Their undeniable attraction turns fantasy into reality.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader Genre: smut (18+) x fluff Content warnings: lots of build up, perv!spence, lovesick!spence, lots of flirting, teasing, sex toys, p in v sweet sensual sex Word count: 4,6k A/n: part two of through thin walls! you can read this as a standalone, but it's a short one so give it a try ;)

It had been three weeks since Spencer last had a nightmare. Ever since his neighbor—a woman he had yet to meet—moved in next door, his nights had been calm, peaceful. Sleep had become something he looked forward to, but it wasn’t just sleep itself. It was the moments before, the quiet waiting in anticipation that became part of his routine.

Every time he came home from an exhausting case, he would crawl into bed and lean back against the headboard, his body settling as he awaited a movement from the apartment next to him. Feeling a sense of relief when her sweet moans would slip through the thin wall.

It didn’t take Spencer long to find a pattern in her routine. On weekdays, it was quick, urgent. The soft moans would rise, then fall—until Thursday. Thursdays were different. He could tell by the muffled groans and the frustrated sighs, that she was unable to find the release she so desperately sought. She would let out a final huff, signalling Spencer to stop his movements.

He was aware that he had no obligation towards the woman, but he found no pleasure in the act of touching himself when he knew she wasn’t enjoying herself. These days left a toll on him. Irritated by the fact that he couldn’t just knock on her door with the suggestion of helping her out. But luckily, there were still the weekends. The weekends were good. Her sessions stretched longer, her pleasure unraveling slowly but intensely. Spencer never managed to keep up alongside her, but he couldn’t help continuing to listen as he laid down with his eyes closed. Savoring each breath, each moment as he found peace in the fact that she felt satisfied by the end of the night.

It wasn’t every day that they would share intimate moments like these. On times she didn’t indulge, Spencer found comfort in the other sounds of her life. Hearing her television hum in the background, not loud enough to make out the words, but her occasional laughter—or her soft humming along with a song—was enough to remind him she was there, just beyond the walls.

It was strange, to feel such familiarity with someone he had never spoken to, someone who’s name he didn’t even know, but somehow Spencer had grown very attached to her presence. He often wondered what the rest of her life looked like. Making it a game to fill in the blanks with the inkling of behaviour he had.

One thing he could confidently profile was her loneliness. Whether that was by choice or by circumstance, or a mixture of both, he didn’t know. Only that he has never heard another voice besides hers, not even the typical hellos and goodbyes one would make on a phone call. He hoped she was settling in well, wishing he could bring her the comfort she has given him since her arrival.

It was noon, on a rare day where Spencer didn’t have to go to the office. But Spencer wasn’t the type to sit still on his free days. He grabbed his saddlebag from the leather chair next to the door, whistling a tune under his breath as he looked for his keys. He unlocked the door with a quick turn of the handle, but before he could step out, a yelp echoed from the hallway.

“I’m sor-,” he froze mid-apology, the automatic reply getting stuck in his throat as he processed the familiar sound. That gasp—it was embedded in his memory, a sound he could recognize anywhere, even though the circumstances were completely different. His cheeks flushed, heat spreading across his face, and he found himself afraid to tilt his head, knowing who he would face.

“It’s okay, don’t worry! I should’ve looked out.” The voice apologized.

Spencer’s mind scrambled. He wanted to tell her that he should be the one apologizing, that it was his fault for slamming the door open without considering who might be walking through the shared hallway. But all he could manage was a strangled silence, his tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth.

He swallowed, forcing himself to look up. His stomach fluttered and his pupils blew wide as he made eye contact with her. She was more beautiful than anything beyond his wildest dreams. He was almost ashamed for picturing her any less than she is. He felt flustered as his mind began piecing her face and body together with the sounds that he’s been eavesdropping on for the past couple of weeks.

He realized how awkward he was making the situation when she looked up at him with big eyes, clearly waiting for some kind of response.

“Did you like my cookies?” She asked, breaking the quiet, her voice a little hesitant but genuine.

Spencer blinked, surprised at the question, his mind struggling to catch up. "Cookies?" he repeated, brows knitting together in confusion.

The girl noticed his expression and rushed to explain. “I brought you cookies,” she said, her hands moving slightly, as if trying to emphasize the story. “When I first moved in here.”

Spencer stayed quiet, getting her to elaborate further. “You weren’t home. I left them on your doorstep,” she continued, a little sheepishly.

He nodded, letting out a small sigh as he made the connection. “It’s my neighbor,” he pointed to the door to the left of him with a vague sweep of his hand, the gesture almost apologetic. “The other one. Miss Cavanaugh. She has a habit of stealing.”

Her eyes widened in surprise, and her mouth hung slightly open at the casualty in which he mentioned this fact.

“Oh no, don’t worry! she won’t steal from you.” He quickly corrected, raising his hand to wave off any concern. “Well, she might but it’s not likely she’d, like, break into your apartment. That would be a criminal act—breaking and entering—which is a felony in all 50 states. Actually, it's a federal offense in certain circumstances.” He glances off to the side for a moment, thinking, then gestures with a loose hand.

“My point is, she’s more of a, uh, casual thief, if that makes sense? Like, you know, she might nab food or a basket or something left outside, but the odds of her actually coming into your apartment are really low. Statistically speaking, this building has an impressively low crime rate for DC, especially for this price range. It’s safer than 75.3% of comparable buildings in the area.”

His brows furrowed together at the end of his sentence, as if his brain just caught up with his words. “I’m rambling, aren’t I?”

The corners of her lips lifted, a soft but genuine smile lighting her face.

“That’s good to know. I didn’t do that much research when I moved in here.” She held out her hand, introducing herself.

Her hand was smaller than his, and without thinking, he clasped it gently between both of his, needing to know if he indeed had the connection with her he assumed he had. The touch sent a jolt through him, feeling the spark of electricity he was hoping for. He surprised himself with how much he didn’t want to let go and, more so, how she didn’t pull away.

"I’m Doctor Spencer Reid," he said, his voice softer now, tinged with a genuine awe as he looked at her.

Her eyebrows rose in curiosity. “Doctor, huh? Good to know there’s one next door in case I drop dead.”

“Oh, uh—” His words came in a tumble as he rushed to explain. “Not a medical doctor. I’m with the FBI. I specialize in criminal behavior. So if you were to, say, die by murder, I’d be the one—uh, the one investigating it.”

The words hung in the air for a beat longer than he intended, and before he could stop himself, he added, “Not that I want you to die, or—uh, be murdered. That’s… that’s not what I meant at all. I mean, if there was even a chance someone wanted to hurt you, I’d make sure to stop it before it happened, but—”

Her laugh, bright and airy, caught him off guard. She then tilted her head slightly, studying him in a way that made her seem like the profiler.

“I’ll see you around, Spencer,” she finally said, her voice teasing but kind. His cheeks flushed at the way his name rolled off of her tongue.

Before he could respond, she turned on her heel and walked off. Spencer couldn’t tear his eyes away from her, her presence lingering even after her figure disappeared down the hall. He stood frozen in the doorway, his heart racing from the exchange.

When he finally stepped back inside, he closed the door and leaned heavily against it, letting out a groan.

He’d forgotten all about the plans he previously had. Instead, his thoughts swirled around her—even more curious about his neighbor than he was before. As he replayed their brief exchange, one thing became startlingly clear: he needed to see her again.

It was like faith heard him. Later, on that evening, Spencer stepped into the laundromat of the apartment complex, the soft hum of dryers and the faint smell of detergent filling the air. He just finished taking his laundry out of the dryer when he saw her—standing at one of the machines, pulling her clothes out with an ease that made the mundane task look almost elegant.

Spencer moved toward her, a little too quickly, and nearly bumped into a man coming the other way. “Sorry,” he mumbled, placing his basket down beside hers.

Her eyes flicked up, catching his gaze immediately. The air between them shifted, filled with an undeniable spark.

“Hi, Doc,” she greeted with a warm smile. “We meet again.”

“Hi,” Spencer managed, his voice a little breathless.

He glanced down at the pile of laundry. “Sock day?” he asked with a smirk, genuinely curious.

She chuckled softly. “More like underwear day in general. I like to stick to a schedule.”

“Me too!” Spencer eagerly responded, excited to have something in common with her.

She sighed as she held up a sock, contemplating its mate. “Underwear day is the worst though. It’s going to take me hours to match these.”

Spencer gave a quiet laugh. “I gave up on that a while ago.” He casually rolled up his pants, revealing mismatched socks—one green with avocados, the other purple with yellow stripes. “It’s more fun this way.”

She crouched down to get a better look, her eyes scanning the colorful mismatched pair. Spencer bit down on his lip. The act was so innocent, but his thoughts wandered, imagining what it might be like if she were kneeling for a different reason.

Jesus, it feels like I swapped brains with Derek.

He cleared his throat, wiping his clammy hands on his pants. She noticed, getting back on her feet, though she didn’t seem embarrassed. If anything, her eyes twinkled with excitement.

“It is more fun that way,” she agreed. “You see a serious guy like you, dressed up all neat and then, poof, funky socks. Like magic.”

His face brightened at the mention of magic. “I could show you another magic trick—a sock trick.”

She snorted, clearly intrigued. “A sock trick?”

Spencer’s confidence grew, knowing he could impress her and wanting to make her smile again. He grabbed a polka-dot sock from his laundry basket, holding it up between his fingers.

“Alright. I’m going to take this sock…” He moved with exaggerated care, his hands precise as he folded the sock in half, then folded it again. “And just like that, I’m going to make it disappear.”

He made a quick move, waving his hands dramatically to hide how he tucked it into the waistband of his pants. “See? Gone.”

She looked at him with wide, amused eyes. “You can’t be serious. Where did it go?”

He smirked and leaned in. “Ah, but that’s the trick—you have to keep an eye on me.” The back of his fingers softly trailed up her cheek, his confidence growing as he felt the heat radiating off her. In one smooth motion, he pulled the exact same sock from behind her ear.

Her mouth dropped open in surprise. “No way.”

“Now look in your basket.”

She shook her head in disbelief. She looked at her laundry pile, and sitting right on top was the matching polka-dot sock.

She threw her head back, laughing, overwhelmed with amazement.

Spencer chuckled softly, enjoying her reaction. “I grew up in Vegas, so I’ve had some practice—but the real magic is in the timing. You were too focused on me to notice the disappearance.”

His words were meant as a mere observation, but the realization seemed to dawn on both of them. She had indeed been too focused on him—only him.

The tension between them grew. She toyed with her lip, and he adjusted the collar of his shirt as they maintained eye contact.

“Laundromat is closing, folks! Everybody out in five minutes.” The announcement through the speakers made them both jump, shaken out of the trance they were in.

“Can I walk you to your apartment?” Spencer asked.

Her eyes glistened, and her smile reached the corners of her mouth. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

They walked out of the laundromat, continuing their small talk about magic and life while sharing the occasional giggle. The stairway was too narrow to walk side by side—especially when carrying a big laundry basket—but that didn’t seem to bother them. The sides of their bodies brushed, their pace matching as they ascended the stairs. Spencer kept an arm behind her back, ready to steady her if she stumbled.

They arrived at their neighboring apartment doors. The air was filled with a mix of the sorrow of their encounter ending and the anticipation of a new one.

The scene almost felt like the end of a first date. Tension hung in the air as they shifted back and forth on their feet, wondering if a goodbye kiss would follow.

“This is mine,” Spencer commented.

She let out a breathy chuckle. “I know.”

After a moment of lingering eye contact, she decided to take the lead.

“Good night, Spencer.” She smiled softly.

“Good night,” he repeated.

Spencer felt a rush of joy as he closed the door behind him. Flirting wasn’t his strong suit. In fact, he wasn’t even sure if their exchanges today could be considered flirting. But there was something comfortable about it. Something effortless. And, most importantly, he’d made her laugh. Several times.

Lost in his thoughts, Spencer set his laundry basket down on the table, preparing to fold the clothes. He wasn’t paying attention as he reached inside—until his fingers brushed against an unfamiliar material.

He looked down with a frown. In his hand was a pair of red laced panties. His throat tightened, and for a moment, he could only stare at them in disbelief.

A vivid image flashed in his mind—those same red panties, nestled in his neighbor’s laundry basket. He frowned deeper, replaying their interaction in his mind. Could I have taken them by accident? He was sure he hadn’t. With an eidetic memory, he’d be able to remember something like that.

His confusement and worry were quickly overcome by a feeling of curiosity and lust. Spencer’s fingers lingered over the fabric, the soft lace slipping between them.

It wasn’t difficult to imagine her in it. The delicate lace tracing the curve of her waist, the soft dips and rises of her hips. Her body seemed to shimmer in the dim glow of his imagination.

Slowly, almost imperceptibly, she shifted in his mind. His fingers curled slightly around the fabric, imagining the way it would feel against her skin as she moved. She lowered her hands, fingers trailing over her body as she slid the lace downward, over the curve of her hips, the fabric teasing the soft swell of her backside. He could almost hear it—the quiet rustle of the lace moving, sliding over her skin as she undressed, the tension in his chest building with each slow, deliberate motion.

His heartbeat quickened as he imagined her pulling the panties lower. The lace graced the insides of her legs, following the shape of her thighs as she removed it with such ease, such grace. And then, just like that, it was gone. The fabric fell, pooling at her feet, leaving her standing before him, utterly exposed.

As his fingers twisted the delicate lace, the image of her in his mind began to fade, slipping away like a dream that was never meant to stay. His subconscious seemed to know that any attempt to imagine her would only fall short. With a quiet exhale, Spencer loosened his grip, folded the lace carefully, and tucked it into his pocket—out of sight, out of mind.

He decided to lie down on his bed, not to sleep, but simply to relax. But his body had other ideas. Before he knew it, his eyes had closed, and his mind had drifted off. The soft purr of his name pulled him from his light doze.

For a moment, Spencer thought he was in heaven—that his pulse had quickened from the thought of her and now he found himself in a place where he could hear her voice calling out his name, like an angel. But as his eyes fluttered open, he realized the voice was more muffled and coming from behind the wall.

“Spencer? Spencer, can you hear me?”

Startled, he swiftly propped himself up on his elbows, his mouth parting before he swallowed his words. Admitting that he could hear her—especially after the sounds from the previous nights—felt like a confession. The idea of those nights ending made his chest tighten, but if it meant he could speak to her again, it was a sacrifice he was willing to make.

“Yes. I can hear you,” he called back, his voice a little louder.

A long silence followed. Spencer cursed himself, anxious that he’d ruined it. But then, he heard the soft, familiar buzz.

“What about this? Do you hear this?” she asked, a playful edge to her voice.

“I- I do. What is it?” Spencer asked, his curiosity peaked.

Her giggle echoed softly through the wall, and his chest tightened with warmth. He smiled without thinking, his heart aching at the sound.

“You don’t know what this is?” she teased, amusement in her tone.

“No,” he admitted, sheepish.

“It’s a vibrator, Spencer.”

Her words hit him like a sudden jolt of electricity. He could feel the heat rise in his face, but then came her sweet laughter again. Spencer shook his head, smiling despite himself.

“Have you ever tried it?” she asked, her voice sultry, almost daring.

“No,” he responded quietly, his voice lowered.

“Would you like to?” her tone sounded persuasive.

“I- I don’t know,” he murmured, unsure but intrigued. “Maybe.”

A beat of silence passed, before she spoke again.

“You could come over and find out.”

Spencer’s face went red, his heart pounding in his chest. “N-now?”

“Yes, now,” she answered with a soft chuckle, teasing yet inviting.

Spencer scrambled off the bed, his pulse racing as he hurried toward the door, afraid she might change her mind. He forced himself to stop when he stood in front of her apartment, drawing in a deep breath to steady the surge of nervous excitement. The moment he’d been fantasizing about for so long was a knock away from becoming reality.

Knock, knock.

The door creaked open, and Spencer was met with the breathtaking sight of her.

She stepped aside and gave him that look—the one that made every nerve in his body stir with need. “Come in.”

“Are you sure?” Spencer’s voice barely made it out, thick with anticipation.

She didn’t answer with words. Instead, she moved toward him, lifting onto her toes as she placed her hand on the back of his neck, the touch sending a shiver down his spine. And then, she kissed him.

There was no rush behind her soft lips. It wasn’t frantic like his thoughts had been. It was gentle—like she was savoring the moment just as much as he was.

She slowly lowered herself back to her feet, and she gazed up on him, a soft smile on her lips, eyes twinkling.

It took Spencer a moment to process what had just happened, but once he did, he pulled her back in, his lips crashing into hers with desperate urgency. She responded in kind, her hands sliding into his hair, tugging him closer. His breath came in shallow gasps as he lifted her, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist, and he carried her to the wall. Their bodies pressed against the same wall that had once held their whispered breaths.

His mind felt like it was spinning—this was real, she was real, and he was touching her. His lips trailed down her neck, the soft skin beneath his mouth sending sparks of desire through him.

“Spencer,” she murmured, and the sound of her voice made his heart stutter. He responded by lifting his lips from her skin, needing to look at her—to drink her in, to memorize every detail.

She met his gaze, her lips parted. “Take it off,” she breathed, pulling at his shirt, her hands shaking with the same feverish need.

Spencer stepped back slightly, eyes never leaving her, and pulled his shirt over his head. His eyes traced every inch of her as she began to undress too, throwing her clothes aside.

“Fuck,” he whispered to himself as she revealed her nude body, wearing no underwear underneath the clothes she just took off.

She smirked, her gaze burning into his. “I told you it was underwear day.”

He let out a breathy chuckle, shaking his head. “God, I’ve dreamed about this,” he murmured, his voice hoarse with awe and desire.

Her lips curled into a satisfied smile as she pulled him back into her embrace, their bodies stumbling towards the bed. She fell softly onto the sheets, and he moved on top of her, capturing her lips in a lingering kiss.

Spencer began to pepper her with kisses, unsure where to start. He hummed as his tongue swiped along the curve of her neck. His wet kisses trailed down to her collarbones, leaving purple marks on his way down, each one encouraged by her sweet moans.

As he moved further up the bed, his knee brushed against something. His focus shifted as he noticed the small, purple object. “Is this it?” he asked, curiously, and she nodded.

He picked it up, noticing it was smaller than his index finger. As he rolled the toy in his hand, it suddenly buzzed to life, making him jump back. She laughed at his reaction, clearly amused.

He quickly figured out how to stop the buzzing and he hovered above her, tracing her lips with the toy. She instinctively opened her mouth, her tongue rolling around it.

“Good girl,” he hummed. “That’s it.”

She moaned softly as she closed her lips around it, sucking gently while maintaining eye contact. He slowly slid the vibrator from her lips, its surface glistening with the trace of her tongue. Turning it on again, he moved it to her nipple, the bud instantly hardening. She let out quiet whimpers, her body trembling with the sensation.

Once satisfied, he placed his mouth on her nipple while the vibrator moved to the other one. She arched her back with a moan as he sucked on the sensitive bud.

Her hips rolled in response to his touch, and with every movement her skin brushed against his length, making it harder to hold back his moans.

“Don’t go quiet on me now. You always make such beautiful sounds,” she purred.

His face flushed as he looked at her, her fingers brushing through his locks. “Don’t tell me you didn’t know. I think the whole complex has heard you,” she giggled.

He opened her thighs, and without warning, placed the vibrator directly on her clit. She let out a high-pitched cry.

“I’m pretty sure all they hear is you,” he teased back. Her voice was a mixture of laughter and moans and he kissed her passionately, desperate to hold onto that sound, to keep it locked within him forever.

She loosely wrapped her legs around his waist, her hand brushing against his to keep the toy in place. He leaned onto his elbows, hovering above her, moaning when his length slipped between her folds. He moved steadily, each thrust coating him in her wetness. Every time he thrust up, his tip brushed against the vibrator, sending shudders through his body. She upped the intensity, and their moans became synchronized, echoing in the air.

Their breathing grew heavier, only interrupted by soft kisses. Spencer felt her tense beneath him, her legs trembling against his back.

“You can let go for me. Show me how good you make yourself feel,” he encouraged, his voice low and warm against her lips.

“It’s you who’s making me feel this good, Spencer,” she whispered, and he could feel the butterflies flutter in his chest.

He held her close as she reached her peak, her soft cries muffled by her face buried in the crook of his neck. Spencer was pressed against the vibrator, the sensation overwhelming him.

She placed the toy beside her, her hand finding his hardness and guiding him inside of her. Spencer let out a needy whine as he was enveloped by her warmth. She pulsed around him, and he knew he wouldn’t last much longer. She pulled him into a sloppy kiss, and he desperately moved his hips, driven by the overwhelming pleasure, until he spilled inside of her.

They stayed like that for a moment, their foreheads pressed together as they caught their breath. Spencer eventually rolled off her, their legs remaining intertwined.

He turned his head to look at her, and she was already watching him with a sweet smile.

“That was nice,” he mused softly.

“Yeah, it was,” she replied, her voice just as soft.

They spent the rest of the night, and the entirety of the next morning tangled up in each other, until it was time for Spencer to leave for work.

She watched him with adoration as he pulled his pants on, her eyes tracing his movements. As he reached into his pocket, his hand brushed against the familiar lace, and he froze. His cheeks flushed as he pulled out the bundle of fabric—her red laced panties.

“I- uh…” he stammered, holding them out to her. “Here.”

She chuckled. “You can keep them. Consider it a welcome gift. You know, since the cookies didn’t exactly work out.”

“That’s okay. It’s yours,” he replied, holding them out to her once more.

Her smirk deepened. “I didn’t do that little magic trick just for you to give them back,” she teased.

His eyes widened in surprise. “Wait—you put them in my laundry?”

She shrugged, a playful glint in her eye. “You’re not the only magician here, Spencer.”

Spencer laughed, coming to a halt at the door. He glanced over his shoulder. “Same time tomorrow?” he asked with a grin.

She chuckled softly, nodding. “I think I could get used to that.”

[alexander-arcturus-black-lupin-r]

Birthday

It's his birthday today, 12 October. He'd just turned 30 and no one had blinked. Emily was gone and the team was still reeling from her death and he didn't want to make them force smiles and tell him happy birthday. He locked up all the emotions, everyone was mourning they didn't need that, although he knew deep down that wasn't true.

He slide his key into his door but paused as he heard a ruckus from his pretty neighbour. Sure enough you wrenched your door open wearing a paper birthday hat. HAPPY BIRTHDAY SPENCE was scrawled over a small cake in your hand. 

He grinned before opening his door and letting you in. You placed the cake on a small table before running back to your apartment and getting the candles and the lighter. With a goofy smile on your face you put the 3 and the 0 on the cake and lit it up

You then slipped another paper hat on his head before picking up the cake again. He had dropped his things a long time ago giving him freedom to bend down slightly to your height and having said a short wish and he blew up the candles. Ecstatic.

“Happy birthday sweatheart, do you want one of your gifts?” he nodded wildly eyes glossed over from so much happiness you giggle leaning over and pecking his cheek, his nose, his other cheek and after a split second on his lips far longer than the others. He’s seeing stars. He's glad he has you, he's never really believed in a god but you have him thanking one.

[littleslaywrites]

i wanna let him unwrap me | spencer reid x reader

nsfw, mdni

summary: gifts aren’t the only thing being unwrapped on christmas morning

word count: 1.3k

cw: smut, afab reader, unprotected sex, fingering, p in v, creampie, cockwarming

Wrapping paper littered the apartment floor. All the presents had been unwrapped. Well, all but one. You had a surprise for Spencer in store. When he’d opened his last gift, you leaned in to kiss him, and instructed him to wait for you to get his final present from your room.

It had all started with a conversation you had with Penelope.

“I don’t know what to get him,” you said, exasperated. “I mean, I’ve gotten him a few books, but he’s read almost everything, so I got some tea and other little things, but I feel like he needs something big.”

“You can be his gift,” Penelope responds, causing you to playfully roll your eyes.

“I appreciate the flattery, but I’m really out of ideas here.”

“No really,” she says, “let him unwrap you, if you’e picking up what I’m putting down.”

“Penelope!” you laugh. 

“But really, you should consider it,” she shoots you a wink before going off to Emily’s office to deliver some files.

Despite your fake shock, the idea got into your head. You called Penelope one weekend, telling her you needed a shopping buddy for Spencer’s gift. She was over the moon that you used her suggestion, and helped you pick out the perfect lingerie to surprise Spencer with. The two of you settled on a red set with a bow, as you could take the “unwrapping” suggestion literally.

Coming out of your room, you see Spencer sitting under the tree, reading one of the books you’d given him. He doesn’t see you at first, so you say his name to get his attention. When he sees you, he freezes for a moment. No matter how many times he looks at you, it’s still like the first time you were undressed in front of him. 

“Wow,” is all he says, swallowing thickly. 

You walk over to him, bending down to kiss him. He sits still, not yet over his surprise. When he finally reaches out, it’s a light touch with his thumb on the exposed part of your breast. The touch gives both of you goosebumps, and you sink deeper into the kiss. 

You grab his jaw, pulling him impossibly closer to you. He does the same, bringing a hand to your jaw. His other hand is still grazing over the edge of your bra. His fingers get greedier, taking a whole tit in his hand and massaging it. 

You pull away from the kiss, signaling him to come up to your level. He gets up clumsily, eyes fixed on you. Once he’s up, his hands are back on you, this time going to your backside, indicating for you to jump. You do, wrapping your legs around him. As he carries you to your bedroom, he’s resisting every urge to lay you down and fuck you in the middle of the hallway. But he knows he can’t give up the vision of you in that lingerie so easily.

He lays you down on the bed, hair spreading around you to form a sort of halo; fitting, as you look even more angelic than usual. He gets on his knees in between your spread thighs, hands running up and down your legs as he studies the way your tits sit in the bra. 

Slowly, his fingers trail up to the edge of your panties, stroking the soft material. He touches you, able to feel your arousal even with a barrier. You whimper, his touches putting butterflies in your stomach. 

He pulls the material aside, running his finger through you to gather your wetness. Even the feathery touches are enough to have you bucking up, and he smiles down at you as he places a hand on your hip to hold you down. Unable to resist, he sucks at his own finger, savoring your taste. 

He goes back to working on your pussy, fingers skillfully teasing your clit. Obviously, he remembers everything that’ll have you squirming. His thumb is rubbing your clit, and it’s taking all his strength to keep you from wriggling off the bed in pleasure. 

The way you’re whining tells him that you’re close, so he puts two fingers inside you. You chase the feeling, thrusting up as much as you can, pressure from his palm on your clit. He hooks his fingers inside you, and your orgasm overtakes you, flooding the already soaked panties. 

He pulls his fingers from you, hand gently rubbing the hip he was holding you down by. He kisses you, your eyes still fluttering as you recover. 

He slowly drags your underwear off, watching the red fabric make its way down your legs. He hovers over you, stroking himself slowly. You’re breathing heavily, both from your previous orgasm and in anticipation of him filling you up.

He lines himself up with your pussy and slowly pushes his tip in, throwing his head back. He’s already whimpering, unable to move more, in danger of cumming before fully inside you. Somehow, he’s never gotten used to the way your walls draw him in. His head falls forward, brown curls hanging down over his closed eyes. You know to let him adjust. As cute as he is when he cums early, you want to savor this moment.

He eventually slides in more, until he’s about halfway inside you. You reach up for his jaw, and he kisses you while he pushes in fully. You both moan, sound muffled by each other’s mouths. He can feel your walls grabbing at his cock, ready for more.

He begins to thrust slowly, enraptured by the bouncing of your tits beneath the red bra.

“Unwrap me,” you say, and Spencer’s in danger of cumming again. He reaches one hand down, untying the bow, revealing the peaks of your hard nipples. He brushes his thumb over one before taking the bra fully off. 

He starts thrusting harder, hungry for the way your tits are rippling beneath him. You feel the tip of his cock massaging your insides, filling you up in the perfect way he always does. You truly believe the two of you were made for each other, and the way he fits inside you only supports that claim. 

Your back is arching off the bed, wanting as much of his as possible. He’s groaning with every clench of your walls. 

Nearing another orgasm, you wrap your legs around him, locking him in place and allowing him to fill you at a deeper angle. He’s rutting into you at this point, rhythm lost. Knowing he’s close, he brings a hand to your clit, stroking it. His touches bring you to your peak, and you let out a strangled moan. The squeeze around his cock brings Spencer to his own release, and you can feel his cum painting your walls as you whimper and writhe under him. He shushes you, pulling you close to him as he pulls out of you. 

You come back to earth as he peppers kisses all over you. “I take it you enjoyed your present,” you say, twirling one of his curls around your finger. He hums in response, focused on placing a kiss on every inch of your face.

“We should probably get up,” you say, giving his hair a tug. 

Spencer shakes his head. “I think it’s perfectly reasonable for us to go back to bed,” he says, holding you down in his hug. “It’s still before noon.”

You sigh, giving in to his embrace, running your hand along his back, still filled by his cock. Before you know it, he’s falling asleep on top of you. He serves as your personal weighted blanket, comforting you into your own sleep. You remember that you’ll have to thank Penelope for her idea, buried in Spencer’s arms as you close your eyes.

author's note- i'm home for the holidays!! i am back on the west coast so i'm two hours ahead of my timezone at college. i will start working on requests when my holiday event is over so keep sending them in!

[dronningreid]

Between letters.

When reader has been acting weird lately, Reid thinks she's going to break up with him but she's actually terrified because she has to give him some life-changing news.

who? Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

category: angst/fluff

warnings: Reid is hopeless, reader is a little mean because she doesn't know how to deal with the stress of her secret. Both must work on their communication. English is not my first language (if i forget something let me know, this is my first time doing this)

word count: 2.6K

a/n: Hello! Thank you to everyone who took the time to read what i wrote with so much love. I have written books, stories, poems but never a fanfic and i must admit that i enjoyed this a lot. Well, without further ado i hope you enjoy this and let me know if you liked it.

It is said that we should wait for good things. But it is so difficult to wait for them when we find ourselves in such a deep abyss, where we believe that the only thing we need is that warm ray of joy to get us out of the pond, to save us from dying in agony.

Spencer needed that warm ray of joy after Maeve's death. He desperately needed to feel alive again, but he had to wait what seemed like an eternity for you to come into his life.

Yet every devastating event like that leaves wounds that bleed into scars, some take perhaps too long and as the blood pours out, it destroys hope.

That's what happened to Reid. Because the day Maeve died, his hopes of having a wife and children, of having a family, died with her…

You came along a couple of years later. You admit that winning Spencer over was something that took time, it was slow but it was worth every second.

You were also thankful that he wasn't like the other jerks you dated before, who thought you would die for them just because you were the one who made the first move.

And that was the difference between you and Spencer. You never let that get you down, you kept trying until you found the one. Who knew it would be someone with three PhDs? Your trusted tarot reader, duh. But you didn't believe it, the guy seemed too perfect to be real.

But there he was, spinning around in his swivel chair when you first walked into the BAU bullpen.

"Who is he?" you asked with a curiosity you hadn't experienced in years.

"Oh, that's Spencer. One of our resident geniuses." The sweet Penelope Garcia cleared up your doubts.

The name tasted so sweet on your lips, it sounded so right. That was the day you decided he would be for you.

Spencer.

Well no, he actually thought you were a little crazy for staring at him so intently from a distance. And he thought you were weird, but he was too so it just made both fit together like puzzle pieces.

Of course you needed some extra help. You were trying to win over someone who hadn't dated in a long time and was also a bit reserved. Luckily for you, Morgan's advice scared him off so you followed JJ's, although it also helped that he was definitely mhm curious? about you.

The relationship seemed to be going great, both loved each other and he couldn't imagine his life without you. But if Spencer Reid had learned something in his life, it was that happiness lasts much less time than pain.

You were acting a little weird around him lately, you were irritable and he definitely knew you were hiding something.

"I think she's going to break up with me." One day he decided to confess his feelings to Morgan, when they were alone in the conference room.

Morgan frowned and dropped the current case file onto the table. “You’re kidding, right?” But with no response, Morgan knew otherwise. "Reid. She loves you so much it makes me a little sick.”

Reid remained with his worried expression. "She's slow to respond to my texts, she avoids me, and there's definitely something she's not telling me.” He counted your recent actions on his fingers before crossing his arms.

Morgan raised an eyebrow. "Don't tell me you're profiling her."

Reid frowned. "What? Of course not." Yeah, that means of course yes.

Morgan shrugged. "Just talk to her or ask the girls, they should know something." This time he gave some good advice, not like the ones he used to give you.

Reid did as Morgan told him, but absolutely no one knew what was going on with you. Although everyone agreed that you were definitely hiding something.

You took a sip of coffee. "I watched that movie last night. People said it was really funny but I found it boring, although I admit the plot twist made me cry.” Yes, lately many things made you cry and it wasn't because of your moon in Pisces.

Anderson nodded. "Exactly! I couldn't even finish watching. I fell asleep."

“Anderson, would you excuse us for a minute?" Reid's appearance was a surprise, his insistence on talking to you wasn't.

"Of course, see you later." Then once Anderson left, Reid stood in front of you.

"What's wrong?" He got straight to the point, not like the previous times.

"Me? Nothing's wrong, I'm perfectly fine." But the drumming of your fingers on your coffee glass gave you away.

"Oh, of course." He crossed his arms, oh no, it seems his infinite patience turned out to be finite.

You immediately took a defensive stance. "Yes. I was perfectly fine before you came to interrupt my conversation with Anderson."

"About movies?" He didn't say it, but you knew he thought it was a nonsense, at least now that he was definitely irritated.

“Yes!" Your outburst earned you a few glances from the other agents. But both were too wrapped up in the tense conversation to deal with them.

"Sure, you have time to talk to other people about movies, but you don't even say a damn good morning to me.” You had to be careful what you said, you were in unfamiliar territory now, as Reid didn't usually swear.

"You're overreacting." Yeah... That probably wasn't the most brilliant thing you've ever said, but you were trying not to give away your secret, at least not yet.

“Overacting?” He was offended by your words. “You talk to everyone in the building except me. You used to spend as much time with me as possible, did I do something wrong?” A hint of fear and insecurity crept into his annoyed tone.

You shook your head. “Of course not.”

He put his hand on your shoulder. “Then tell me what’s wrong.” His tone was firm, but not harsh. Although it was obvious that he wasn't making a request of you.

"Spencer, I already told you that nothing is wrong with me." You emphasized the nothing.

He exhaled in frustration, he was 90% sure that this would work. "Fine! Then don't tell me anything." His patience had run out and he wasn't going to beg you anymore. It had been a week like this and he couldn't take it anymore, so he let go of your shoulder and walked away without even looking at you or giving you a sweet kiss on the cheek.

∗⋅✧⋅∗

Everything was dark, you reached for the light switch and then the spotlight illuminated your apartment. It was a less warm space without Spencer there.

You sighed before throwing your bag on the couch and closed the door.

You stood there for a couple of minutes staring at the lonely space. Well since you became Spencer Reid's girlfriend there weren't many lonely nights, mornings or afternoons.

You would definitely prefer him to be here right now, rambling or mumbling a foreign language movie to you. But for now you had to keep your secret, and that meant keeping Reid away.

The growl of your stomach snapped you out of your mind, so you headed straight for the fridge. But the smell of something made you nauseous, so you immediately ran to the bathroom to empty the contents of your stomach on the toilet.

Yes. You had to hurry to sweeten this horrible memory with a concerned Spencer who would hold your hair and rub your back while you threw up.

After dinner and take a warm shower, you were tired enough to do anything else, so you settled into bed to sleep. But your brain had other plans…

"You look... not very awake." Tara commented as soon as you dropped your coat on the back of your chair.

"I only slept three damn hours," you nearly growled before throwing yourself into the chair and running your hands over your face. You needed a liter of coffee.

Tara stopped typing on her computer and looked at you. "Is this something to do with your strange behavior the last week?" When she got no response, she said your name seriously.

You pulled your hands away from your face. “I…” you began to fiddle with the rings on your fingers, the burden of unspoken words beginning to weigh on your shoulders. "God, why does everyone suddenly care about my fucking life?" You opted for annoyance as the perfect disguise for your vulnerability.

"Hey. None of us want to bother you, but we care about your life because we are your friends and we love you." Tara used a serious tone, like a scolding, but there was genuine affection behind her words. "Besides, Reid is suffering because of your attitude."

A pang of guilt hit your chest. “I don’t want to hurt him.” You whispered.

“I know.” She walked over to your desk. “But you’re hurting him, even if you don’t mean to.”

You swallowed before looking up. "It's just that there's something..." You took a deep breath, this was harder than you thought. "Things are changing, things are definitely going to change if I say this, it's going to be real and I don't know how to feel about it. I need someone to tell me what to do, because I feel so lost."

Tara placed one of her hands over yours. "Well, if I'm going to help you, I need you to tell me what's wrong." Her voice was warm.

"I want Spencer to know first." But your half-hearted answer was enough for her to know.

"In that case you should tell him, because none of his PhDs include mind reading." She made a little joke that actually made you smile.

"Yeah, I know. He'll probably solve everything out like he always does." Then you looked straight at his empty desk, at the nameplate: Spencer Reid. "But I want to give him a surprise, something that will make him happy. I can't just walk up and say hey…” Then you forced yourself to close your mouth when you realized you were going to say more than necessary, although in reality Tara already had her suspicions.

"Okay, I'll help you." She sounded very determined and you really appreciated her help and that she wouldn't question you as much as the others.

∗⋅✧⋅∗

You spun around in your chair and then had an epiphany, but not like the Taylor Swift song. "Crossword!" Your excitement got you the looks of several agents in the bullpen, luckily one of them was Tara.

"With a secret message?"

"Yes. It's literally the best way." You said excitedly.

But in your mind everything was easier than it really was.

You ruffled your hair as you forced yourself to think more, giving you a splitting headache. "When did I think this would be a good idea? Doing a crossword puzzle for the average person is easy, but not for a genius with an IQ of 187." You dropped your head onto your desk.

"You need help."

"But who's as smart as Spencer?" You muttered defeated, still with your head hidden between your arms and the wood of the desk.

Someone ruffled your hair. “Mhm. Tesla? Einstein?”

You immediately raised your head, only to see the famous Derek Morgan. “They’re dead.” You snorted.

Morgan raised his hands in peace. "Hey, what's the bad mood, baby girl? I just answered your question." He let out one of his signature laughs.

You rolled your eyes. You wished you could turn off some damn switch that was responsible for making you so easily angry. God, WHY? You were starting to get desperate.

"Blake!" Another epiphany, you were really on top of it. You didn't even explain it to Tara, you just ran to the parking lot to get your phone which you had forgotten in the car.

Alex Blake was happy to help you put together a crossword puzzle for Spencer. Although she warned you that he once solved one in about five minutes.

Yeah, well, you were going to take the risk.

Once the crossword puzzle with the secret message was ready, you set out to find Reid.

As you were leaving Garcia's office he was getting out of the elevator, but he didn't even notice you. He continued on his way and god, why did he look so attractive?

"Spencer." You caught up to him as he walked up the stairs.

"Not now, I'm busy." He replied with a seriousness not typical of him.

"With what?" You frowned.

"I said I'm busy." I didn't even look at you as he continued walking to the conference room.

You called out to him, but he ignored you. “We need to talk.” You said seriously, raising your voice.

He turned to look at you, with an expression that betrayed nothing of what he truly felt. "I said I'm busy, we'll talk later." That didn't convince you. “I have to do a geographic profile and you have to work on victimology like Hotch asked you to.”

He stopped in his tracks immediately, freezing halfway. He had never experienced anything like this before, but he knew well what we need to talk meant.

The end was near? You were beginning to doubt and he was very sure, only that he would delay it as much as he could.

∗⋅✧⋅∗

You were about to give up, but you really needed him to know. So you resorted to plan B.

"Derek Morgan, my favorite person in the world." You appeared in front of him, with a big smile.

Morgan let out a light laugh. "Yeah sure, what can I do for you, gorgeous?"

"I think Spencer is upset with me."

"He definitely is." He said it without hesitation and it definitely didn't help the state of your aching heart.

"Okay..." You handed him the crossword puzzle. "Could you please give him this for me?"

He picked up the crossword puzzle. "If you think he's going to forgive you for avoiding him for a week just by giving him a crossword puzzle that he'll finish in two seconds, you might be right."

"Just give it to her, okay?"

"Of course. But in exchange for Penelope being the godmother.”

You immediately frowned, but you reacted a little late because Morgan had already left to deliver your order.

From your desk you watched everything. From how Morgan entered the conference room to give Spencer the crossword puzzle to how the bastard answered it in five minutes. When it took you like three hours to do.

But the best part was when he realized the secret message and ran out of the conference room.

But when he saw you, his quickened steps took on a much, much slower pace.

"Tell me what's true." His low tone sounded like a plea.

A slight smile appeared on your face. "Yeah. That's why I've been acting weird, you know I can't keep secre-"

Your words were cut off when his lips met yours. In a kiss so sweet and soft that it was enough to dispel every single one of your doubts.

A few seconds later, he pulled away from the kiss, leaving you wanting more.

He caressed your cheek with his thumb. "You didn't have to do a crossword puzzle to tell me you were pregnant."

"I wanted to surprise you." You whispered.

A smile that could light up this whole town formed on his lips. "I love you so much." He then kissed you warmly again.

And so it was that the foundations that had crumbled with Maeve's death slowly re-emerged. They began to build themselves again with your arrival and now with this news, their foundations were stronger than ever, because at last he was going to have the family he had dreamed of for a tortuous time.

🏷️ @floraisunwell

[reidmarieprentiss]

I have a request that I know you’ll write 100% better than me! Spencer leaves his girlfriend at the altar without giving a single reason. And disappears for months. Then he comes back and it is revealed he did it because Reader's life was at risk. When he goes to apologize, Reader doesn't let him speak. Spencer crawls on his knees for forgiveness and tries to figure out how to improve the situation. The ending is up to you: angst, happy ending or not. You choose! I know you’ll do a great fic!

Sadly Ever After

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: hurt, angst

Warnings/Includes: no happy ending, being left at the altar, just general sadness after a breakup, small crime talk

Word count: 5.6k

a/n: hiii i hope this is sufficient lolol i am in a very angsty mood

main masterlist

You had never felt so beautiful in your entire life. The dress—the dress—was everything you had dreamed it would be. Layers of soft tulle cascaded down your frame, the delicate lacework etched across the bodice molding perfectly to you, almost as if it had been made for you alone. Each step you took sent the fabric swaying around you like whispers of movement, ethereal and romantic.

Penelope had outdone herself with your hair. Loose waves tumbled, glowing in the golden light of the early evening, held in place by a sparkling hairpiece that caught the glow of the string lights. Every curl seemed to be perfectly placed, not too styled but effortlessly enchanting, as if you had stepped out of a fairytale. JJ and Emily had tag-teamed your makeup, ensuring that every stroke and brush was precise and delicate. The soft blush on your cheeks, the shimmer of your eyeshadow, the perfect tint of color on your lips—it was understated perfection.

And Rossi, ever the consummate host, had given you and Spencer the most breathtaking backdrop for your wedding. His sprawling backyard had transformed into something magical. An altar of wooden beams, wrapped with soft draped fabric and overflowing with flowers—roses, peonies, and wild blooms—stood like a gateway to forever. Twinkling fairy lights criss crossed above, their soft glow turning the clearing into a dreamscape. The grass, still cool from the afternoon, added an earthy softness to the air, grounding the magic in something real.

Then there he was—Spencer.

Your heart stuttered at the sight of him standing at the altar, hands nervously clasped in front of him, the slightest smile pulling at the corners of his lips when his eyes found you. His suit was sharp and clean, a dark shade that contrasted beautifully with the delicate tones of your dress. The bowtie, a small nod to his usual style, somehow made him look even more endearing, his charm on full display. His curls fell just perfectly, framing his face and softening the seriousness of his features.

But it was his eyes that caught you—the depth of them, brimming with unspoken emotion, raw and honest. The sight of him struck you in the chest, stealing the air from your lungs. The tears you had tried to fight back began to prick the corners of your eyes.

Each step down the aisle felt slower, deliberate, as though time itself had stretched just for the two of you. You took in every detail—the warm breeze rustling the leaves above, the distant chirp of crickets, the way the light filtered through the trees, creating golden halos around your guests. As you approached Spencer, standing tall beneath the altar where Aaron Hotchner waited to officiate, your heart swelled with so much love you thought it might burst.

Aaron’s voice, steady and clear, had been a comforting hum in the background—his dry wit laced through the ceremony brought a lightheartedness that had the guests chuckling softly at all the right moments. He was a master at balancing sincerity and charm, even as the formal words of the ceremony unfurled.

The vows had been the pinnacle of it all. Spencer’s, with their perfect blend of sentimentality and poetic elegance, had left you breathless. Every word was carved with precision, so achingly him that it made your heart feel both full and fragile in the best way. Your vows, equally personal and unflinchingly honest, had drawn a few tears from the crowd. For those few minutes, it felt like it was just the two of you—completely alone in your little world, pledging yourselves to each other.

But then Aaron’s voice broke that perfect little bubble.

“Spencer, do you take Y/N to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

It was a question Spencer had to be expecting. One he should have answered without hesitation. The words hung in the air like a held breath. Waiting.

You smiled softly, fingers intertwined with his, but that silence—the silence that followed—was deafening. The longer Spencer stood there, unmoving and unspeaking, the weight of the moment became unbearable. You felt the shift in the energy around you, a sudden drop in the warmth that had enveloped the ceremony just moments ago.

The guests began shifting uncomfortably in their seats. A murmur rustled through the crowd—quiet and confused. It was subtle at first, the furrow of brows and exchanged glances, but the longer Spencer remained silent, the more palpable the tension became.

“Spencer?” you whispered faintly, trying to ground him with the sound of your voice. Your hands squeezed his gently, searching for reassurance in the way his thumb brushed against your skin. But that was the thing—his thumb wasn’t moving at all. His hands were still, stiff even, as he stared at you.

And his eyes—oh, those fucking eyes.

They weren’t full of the love you had seen all evening, that awe-struck admiration that had made your knees weak when you first stepped down the aisle. No, they were hollow now, distant, as though he was somewhere far away.

The silence stretched so long you felt it wrap around your chest like a vice, squeezing the air from your lungs.

“Spencer,” Aaron prompted gently, his calm, officiating voice now laced with quiet concern.

Finally, finally, Spencer moved. The slightest tilt of his lips into a soft, almost apologetic smile. The kind of smile that said everything and nothing at the same time.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered. The words were so soft they barely reached your ears, like a secret meant just for you.

Your brows knitted together as confusion bloomed across your face. Sorry? Sorry for what?

But before you could say anything, before you could even process the sound of those three words, Spencer’s grip on your hands loosened. He let go—he let go—and turned.

One moment he was standing in front of you, your almost-husband, and the next he was running. The sound of his shoes hitting the wooden platform of the altar was jarring. Sharp.

“Spencer!” you called after him, panic rising in your voice, but it was too late.

Gasps rippled through the crowd. The murmurs grew louder now, confusion turning to shock as everyone watched Spencer disappear through the open back doors of Rossi’s house.

You stood frozen, rooted to the spot where he had left you, your hands still hovering in front of you as though you could still feel the shape of his in your palms.

The string lights above twinkled innocently, the flowers framing the altar swayed in the evening breeze, and the guests remained seated, staring, waiting—hoping this was some sort of terrible joke.

But it wasn’t.

Aaron, steady as ever, took a cautious step forward, lowering his voice as he gently spoke. “Y/N… do you want to sit down?”

Sit down. Right. You felt like the earth beneath you had cracked wide open, leaving you teetering on the edge. How could he run? How could Spencer Reid—your Spencer—leave you like that?

Your lips trembled as you looked back toward the house, the place where he had vanished. You felt the eyes of everyone on you, their collective disbelief pressing down on your shoulders like an invisible weight.

You swallowed thickly, the tears you had been holding back earlier now threatening to spill for an entirely different reason.

“I don’t…” you started, but your voice faltered.

Because you didn’t know what to say. You didn’t know what had just happened or why.

All you knew was that Spencer Reid—the love of your life, your almost-husband—had left you standing alone under the twinkling lights of Rossi’s backyard, with nothing but a hollow whisper of I’m sorry lingering in his wake.

—

Months had passed, yet time felt like it moved at a crawl. The day Spencer ran from you—from your wedding—remained an echo that refused to quiet. You thought that eventually the sting would dull, that the confusion would lift, but it clung to you like a shadow you couldn’t shake.

You had packed up your life together in silence, alone in the home you once shared with him. The apartment was eerily still without the sound of his voice murmuring about a book or his soft humming while he made tea. It had felt haunted, as though every room whispered why? at you, taunting you with memories of what you thought your life would be. You didn't even see him again during those long days you spent packing—only once did Penelope call to let you know he had gone home to see his mother.

“Just so you know,” Penelope had said softly over the phone. She sounded hesitant, like she wasn’t sure if she was making things better or worse. “Spencer’s not in D.C. anymore. He went back to Vegas. I think he wanted to… I don’t know, give you space.”

You’d thanked her out of politeness, even though the words stung. Give you space. Was that what this was? Him running, abandoning you at the altar—was that his way of giving you space? You didn’t ask for space. You had asked for him. Well, actually, he had asked for you.

So you moved back into the apartment you had sublet without any real trouble. It was strange to see your things there again, familiar but foreign, as though they belonged to a different version of you. You kept most of your life in boxes for a while. Unpacking felt like admitting that this—this emptiness—was permanent, and you weren’t ready to do that yet.

The team tried to reach out in those first weeks.

JJ had sent you messages that were simple but heartfelt: “Thinking of you. I’m here if you need anything.”

Emily had tried to call you once. She left a voicemail, her voice kind and gentle: “Hey, it’s me. I know you might not want to talk right now, and that’s okay, but I just wanted you to know we’re all thinking of you. You’re not alone.”

Penelope was the most persistent. She sent texts, little gifts, even a handwritten letter because she knew how personal that would feel. But every text, every call, every kind gesture just reminded you of him. Spencer had been the thread that connected you to the team, and now every single one of them felt like a painful reminder of what you’d lost. Of the way he left.

So you shut them out, one by one.

You didn’t hate them. You couldn’t. JJ, Emily, Penelope, Derek, Hotch and Rossi—they were good people, your people once. But being around them, talking to them, made Spencer’s absence feel louder. It was as though his ghost lingered between every conversation. And no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t separate them from him.

Penelope’s messages stopped first. You imagined her sitting in her colorful office, fidgeting with a pen as she debated whether to text you again. She was the kindest soul you knew, and you hated the idea that you were shutting her out, but you couldn’t face her—or any of them.

Then came the loneliness. It wasn’t the kind that was born from an empty room or quiet nights alone. It was deeper, sharper. The kind of loneliness you only felt when you lost someone dear to you.

You sat on your couch one night—your couch now, not Spencer’s, not yours and his, just yours—and stared at the stack of boxes you still hadn’t unpacked. The light from the kitchen spilled into the living room, casting long shadows across the floor. It was silent except for the hum of the fridge and the faint tick of the clock on the wall.

You wondered if Spencer was in his childhood home now, back in Vegas, sitting with his mother. Did he talk about you? Did he think about you?

Or was he like you—alone in a room that used to feel like home, wondering how everything had unraveled so quickly?

It didn’t matter, you told yourself. You weren’t going to chase answers you might never get. If he wanted to explain himself, he would have. But he didn’t. Instead, he ran. He left you there, at the altar, in front of everyone you loved, and didn’t even have the decency to say goodbye.

You pulled your knees up to your chest, resting your chin on them as you stared at the faint glow of your phone screen on the coffee table. Another message from JJ, one you wouldn’t open. You knew she would stop eventually. They all would.

You had been close with all of them, almost like family. But Spencer’s absence had burned through those bonds like fire through dry wood. And now, months later, all that was left was ash.

And the strangest part of it all? You missed them. You missed JJ’s motherly warmth, Emily’s strength, Penelope’s relentless kindness. You missed Derek teasing you, Rossi’s wise words, Hotch’s steady, grounding presence.

But missing them also meant missing him.

And missing him? That was something you couldn’t bear to feel any more than you already did.

—

The bullpen was quieter than usual that morning. The team was settled at their desks, heads ducked over files and reports, but there was no mistaking the shift in energy. Spencer was back. After months of leave, months of silence, months of wondering—he had walked through the glass doors of the BAU like nothing had happened.

Except something had happened. Something none of them could make sense of.

Spencer didn’t look any different on the outside. His suit was pressed and neat, his messenger bag slung over his shoulder in that familiar way. But there was a tightness in his jaw, a heaviness in his shoulders that hadn’t been there before. He had always carried the world on his back, but this time, it looked like the weight might crush him.

The air hung thick as he settled into his desk, quietly unpacking his bag. No one spoke at first, though they all exchanged glances, unsure of how to broach it—of how to demand answers.

It was Derek who cracked first. Of course it was Derek. He had been simmering with frustration for months now, trying to make sense of Spencer’s sudden disappearance and his refusal to talk about it.

“You want to tell us all what the fuck is going on?” Derek’s voice broke through the stillness, sharp and pointed.

Spencer froze, one hand halfway to his desk drawer. He didn’t turn right away, but everyone else did. All eyes turned to Derek, who sat leaned back in his chair, arms crossed tightly over his chest. His tone was accusatory, sure, but his expression—underneath the tension—was concern.

Spencer swallowed, closing the drawer with a soft click before finally turning to face the team. JJ looked at him with something between worry and hope, her brow slightly furrowed. Emily’s gaze was harder to read, but her eyes were pinned to him, waiting. Penelope, standing in the doorway with a coffee in hand, looked like she wanted to speak but thought better of it. Even Rossi, ever the patient one, had his head tilted slightly as he studied Spencer.

Spencer took a breath, his hands curling around the edge of his desk.

“I…” His voice cracked slightly, unused to addressing so much weight at once. He steadied himself and tried again. “I owe you all an explanation.”

“Damn right you do,” Derek shot back, though his tone was a little softer this time.

Spencer nodded, pressing his lips into a thin line as he gathered his thoughts. He looked down for a moment, fingers drumming idly against the wood of his desk before he spoke again.

“I left because I needed to,” he said simply. His voice was low, not quite weak, but careful—like every word was fragile, like he was afraid they might break apart. “I needed to… figure things out.”

The room fell into a heavy silence as the team sat gathered around the conference table, all of them watching Spencer intently. The blinds were drawn, the overhead lights humming faintly above them, but it did little to dispel the weight pressing down on everyone.

“Figure what out?” JJ had asked softly, her tone teetering somewhere between exasperation and hope.

Spencer had sighed then, a breath so deep it looked like it pained him. “Yeah, um… can we go to the conference room?”

No one argued. 

Once they were all seated in the conference room, Spencer remained standing, gripping the back of one of the chairs like it was the only thing holding him upright. His knuckles turned white as he stared down at the polished table, gathering the words he had spent months trying to keep buried.

“Someone was threatening me,” Spencer said finally, his voice low, steady, but carrying the weight of something dark and unspoken. “Threatening her.”

The pronoun lingered like a slap, and no one needed clarification to know who he meant. You.

JJ sucked in a sharp breath, her hand instinctively reaching for her chest as though she could feel the impact of those words. Derek leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, his expression hardening as he processed what Spencer was saying.

“What do you mean, someone was threatening you?” Rossi asked, his voice calm but firm, coaxing Spencer to keep going.

“They found Y/N because of me,” Spencer continued, his voice quieter now, almost ashamed. “Because of my job. I… I put her in danger. They used her as leverage, made it clear that if I told anyone—if I told any of you—that they would kill her.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. Emily glanced toward Derek, her expression darkening as she began piecing things together.

“How long did this go on?” Derek finally asked, his tone a low growl.

Spencer didn’t meet his eyes. “Months. I started getting letters, then texts. Pictures of her—ones that no one else could’ve had. They knew where she was at all times. When she went to work, when she was home, when she was with me.”

Penelope gasped softly, her hand covering her mouth as tears threatened to well in her eyes. “Spencer…” she whispered, her voice breaking.

Spencer shook his head, jaw tightening. “I couldn’t let anything happen to her. I couldn’t. So when the threats escalated—when they said they’d kill her if I stayed here and didn’t cooperate—I left.”

“And you didn’t tell us?” JJ asked, the hurt in her voice unmistakable.

“I couldn’t,” Spencer said, his voice nearly cracking. “If I told any of you, they said they’d go through with it. So I had to work the case alone. I did things I… I don’t want to talk about, but I found them. I stopped them. I made sure they could never hurt her again.”

The room fell silent again as the weight of his confession sank in. No one spoke, no one moved. Spencer’s breathing had grown uneven, like the memory alone was clawing its way back to him.

It was Rossi who finally broke the silence, his voice calm and measured but tinged with quiet curiosity. “Why did you wait until the wedding to run?”

Spencer’s shoulders slumped. He looked down at the table, his gaze unfocused, like he couldn’t bear to look at any of them. “I… I thought I could marry her. I thought if I could just get through that day, I could disappear. Take her somewhere safe. Run away with her before they could do anything. I wanted to give her something good, something beautiful, before I ruined everything.”

His voice faltered, and he shook his head, his grip tightening on the chair. “But when I saw her standing there… looking so happy, so perfect… it was like I was transported into my worst nightmare. I saw her—bloody and dead—because of me. Because of what I do, because of who I am. I couldn’t stand it. I couldn’t stand the thought of her being hurt because of me. So I ran. I thought… I thought it was better to break her heart than to get her killed.”

The room was deathly quiet now. No one knew what to say. Derek rubbed a hand over his face, trying to process it all, while JJ blinked away tears that had started to gather in her eyes. Penelope was openly crying now, her quiet sobs muffled behind her hands.

“You should’ve told us,” Emily finally said, her voice soft but firm. “We could’ve helped you, Spencer.”

Spencer looked up then, his face hollow, haunted. “And what if you couldn’t? What if I told you, and it still wasn’t enough? What if she died because of me?” His voice broke on the last word, and he quickly looked away, his shoulders trembling slightly.

No one had an answer for that.

Rossi sighed, leaning back in his chair, the understanding settling on his features. “So you’re back now because it’s over?”

Spencer nodded. “It’s over. I made sure of it.”

“And Y/N?” Derek asked quietly, though the question lingered like a punch to the gut.

Spencer’s face fell, his voice a whisper. “She doesn’t know. She just thinks I… left her.”

JJ’s brows furrowed in disbelief, her voice sharp now. “And you haven’t told her? Spencer, she deserves to know—”

“I know!” Spencer’s voice rose suddenly, a flash of frustration breaking through the cracks. He exhaled sharply, forcing himself to calm down. “I know,” he repeated, softer this time, the anguish bleeding through. “But how do I explain it to her? How do I look her in the eye and tell her I let her believe I abandoned her because I thought I was saving her life?”

The room fell silent once more, the only sound the faint hum of the air conditioning.

No one had an answer for that either.

—

Spencer stood outside your apartment building, his heart hammering so hard he could hear it in his ears, like a drum echoing through a cavernous void. His hands trembled at his sides as he stared up at the familiar brick, the windows glowing faintly with light from the rooms inside. You were home. He knew it, and yet his feet felt like they were glued to the pavement.

His breathing came fast, shallow, uneven—panic building like a wave rising up from his chest and crashing against his throat. He bent over slightly, hands braced on his knees, trying to steady himself, but it wasn’t enough. The air felt thin, insufficient, as if he was sucking in nothing but emptiness.

Not here, not now, he thought desperately, squeezing his eyes shut. You have to do this.

He pushed off his knees and leaned back against the cool brick wall, his spine pressing into it like it could somehow ground him. His hands curled into fists, nails digging into his palms as he tried to focus on something—anything—other than the guilt gnawing at him.

Breathe in for four. Hold for four. Out for four.

He silently counted, forcing air through his lungs, slowing the frantic rhythm of his breaths. He repeated the process over and over until the tightness in his chest began to ease, just enough for him to move again.

His legs still felt weak as he pushed away from the wall and crossed the threshold into the building, each step heavier than the last. The stairwell yawned before him like an unforgiving climb, the kind that felt insurmountable despite its simplicity. He clutched the cold metal railing as he ascended, pausing halfway up the flight to press his forehead against the wall and whisper to himself under his breath.

“You can do this. Just knock. Just say it.”

The words sounded pathetic to his ears, hollow in the stillness of the stairwell, but they were all he had. After all these months, after everything he’d done—or failed to do—it came down to this. He had to face you. He had to tell you the truth, no matter what it cost him.

When he reached your floor, Spencer stopped outside your door, staring at the familiar brass numbers that suddenly looked foreign. His heart began to race again, beating faster and faster, drowning out every rational thought. He hadn’t been here since… since before everything. Since you had been his, since he had woken up to the sound of your laughter, since he had memorized the smell of your shampoo and the feel of your hand in his.

The memories hit him all at once, clawing their way out of the recesses of his mind like ghosts—mocking him with what he had lost. What he had taken from himself.

Spencer’s hand shook as he raised it, hovering inches away from the door. He felt paralyzed again, the nausea rising in his stomach like a sick promise. He could turn back. He could leave now, before you opened the door, before you saw him standing there. Maybe you hadn’t moved on yet, maybe you still hated him, maybe you didn’t even want the answers he had brought.

He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply through his nose.

No. She deserves this. She deserves the truth.

His knuckles brushed against the door—softly at first, a timid, ghostly sound. Then he knocked, the noise louder than he intended, the echo of it reverberating down the hall.

Spencer froze, his breath catching in his throat as the moments stretched endlessly. The only sound he could hear was the faint buzz of the overhead lights and the blood rushing in his ears.

And then, from the other side of the door, he heard it.

Footsteps.

The shuffle of movement, the creak of a floorboard.

Spencer felt his pulse spike again, his palms growing clammy as the footsteps approached. His body tensed, and for one horrible second, he thought he might turn and run.

But then the door opened.

And there you were.

You froze in the doorway, one hand still on the knob as your eyes met his. Spencer’s heart lodged itself in his throat as he took in the sight of you—your expression shifting from surprise to something unreadable, your lips parting slightly as though words had caught there, unable to escape.

You looked the same and yet different, somehow. Your hair was a little longer, your face softer, but your eyes—those eyes that had once looked at him with so much love—now held something else entirely.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The silence stretched on, so loud it was deafening.

Spencer’s throat felt dry as he finally managed to whisper, “Hi.”

It was so small, so simple, but it was all he could get out before his voice cracked.

You blinked, the mask of composure you had thrown on beginning to fracture. Your voice came out quiet, wary, almost disbelieving. “Spencer?”

He swallowed hard, trying to find the words he had been practicing for weeks, for months. They were all jumbled now, falling apart in his mind.

“I… I needed to see you,” he said softly, his voice trembling. “I need to explain.”

Your hand tightened on the doorknob, your knuckles going white as you looked at him—really looked at him—and the pain he’d left behind resurfaced in your eyes like a wave crashing over jagged rocks.

The second the words left his mouth—“I need to explain”—something inside you snapped. The anger, the hurt, the betrayal that had been simmering beneath the surface for months came roaring to life like a fire you could no longer control. Before you even realized what you were doing, your grip on the doorknob tightened, and with a force you hadn’t known you were capable of, you slammed the door.

The sound was deafening, the crack of wood against its frame echoing through the hallway. It felt final, like a gavel coming down to deliver a sentence. And for a moment, all you could hear was the rapid pounding of your own heartbeat in your ears.

On the other side of the door, you heard nothing.

No knock. No footsteps. Not a single sound.

For a long moment, you stood there, your chest rising and falling in sharp, uneven breaths. Your hand was still on the doorknob, fingers trembling as though the residual shock of what you’d done was finally catching up to you.

Spencer Reid.

The man who had left you, abandoned you in the cruelest way possible, standing you up at the altar without so much as a word. The man who had disappeared from your life, leaving you to pick up the pieces of a heart he had shattered. And now, now, after all these months, he had the audacity to show up at your door and say he needed to explain?

Explain what?

How he left you humiliated and broken? How he had walked away from the life you were supposed to build together, without giving you the decency of closure?

Your jaw clenched, your hands balling into fists at your sides as you turned away from the door. A bitter laugh escaped your lips—short, hollow, and humorless. You felt like screaming, like throwing something, like letting out all the pain you’d been holding in since that day.

But you didn’t.

Instead, you walked away, forcing yourself deeper into the apartment. You wanted to put as much distance between yourself and that door as possible. Your mind was racing, every thought colliding into the next, until all that was left was a whirlwind of anger and grief that threatened to consume you whole.

And yet…

You stopped in the center of your living room, your eyes drifting to the door as the silence stretched on. You wondered if he was still out there, standing on the other side, stunned into silence.

You hated that part of you cared enough to wonder.

What did he think was going to happen? That he would knock, say a few words, and everything would be okay? That you would just forgive him? He didn’t deserve that. He didn’t deserve you.

But the thought of him still standing there, heartbroken, made your chest ache in a way you couldn’t quite explain.

Slowly, you sank onto the couch, dropping your head into your hands as the weight of it all settled over you like a storm cloud. You took a shaky breath, then another, trying to ignore the tears that were threatening to spill.

On the other side of the door, Spencer remained frozen.

The door was still vibrating faintly from the force with which you’d slammed it, and he stood there, staring at it like it might suddenly open again if he just waited long enough. His breathing was shallow, his face pale as his mind tried to process what had just happened.

He had expected anger. He had expected hurt. But the door slamming—so final, so absolute—hit him harder than he thought possible.

His hand hovered in the air, just inches from the wood, as though he might knock again. But he didn’t. He couldn’t.

Instead, he exhaled shakily, leaning forward until his forehead rested lightly against the door. His eyes squeezed shut as a wave of nausea washed over him.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, though he knew you couldn’t hear him.

After a few long moments, he forced himself to straighten. He stuffed his hands into his coat pockets, turned slowly, and walked away—each step heavier than the last.

And inside, you sat alone, the sound of that door slam replaying in your head over and over again, louder than any explanation he could have given.

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

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[zombgube-g1rl]

you'd have to surgically remove his fingers from inside of me btw

[little-jana]

"Not A Secret Anymore"

Pairing: Spencer Reid x reader

Genre: fluff

Warnings: light teasing, use of Y/N

Words: 1.3k

Summary: Spencer Reid’s carefully hidden relationship with his girlfriend is exposed when the BAU accidentally meets her.

I always knew Spencer Reid was a man of secrets—worn-out book covers hiding chapters of untold stories. From the moment we started dating, nearly a year ago, he’d made one thing clear: our relationship needed to remain private. Not because he was ashamed, or unsure about us—he wasn’t. No, it was because of his job, his team, the life he led with the BAU.

“I’ve seen what can happen to people we love,” he’d told me one night as we lay tangled together in the sheets, his voice soft but heavy with a weight I couldn’t fully understand. “If they knew about you… if someone used you against me, I couldn’t—” He’d stopped mid-sentence, his throat tight with emotion. I didn’t push. I knew enough to know his fears were justified.

And so, we stayed our little secret. A quiet life in the small apartment we shared, where we read books late into the night, cooked terrible meals together, and danced to old records in our socks. He loved me here—behind locked doors, between whispered I-love-you’s, and in stolen glances that made my heart pound.

I loved him too, so much so that I never questioned it.

But secrets don’t stay secrets forever.

---

The day started like any other. I’d woken up to find the bed empty, the scent of Spencer’s coffee lingering in the air. He’d already left for work, as usual, leaving behind a scribbled note on the kitchen counter.

“Case came in early. I’ll call you when I can. I love you. – S.”

My heart swelled. He always did little things like that, never forgetting to remind me that I was loved, even when he was miles away chasing monsters. I kissed the note like a fool and went about my day, deciding to treat myself to a trip downtown for some shopping and a coffee.

I’d just stepped into my favorite café when it happened.

I noticed him before he noticed me. Spencer, standing just inside the entrance, wearing his FBI badge and a crisp suit that should’ve made him look unapproachable, but didn’t. The rest of his team flanked him, men and women I recognized only through Spencer’s stories. There was the confident Agent Morgan, the effortlessly glamorous Agent Prentiss, and the intimidating figure of Hotch. I didn’t need an introduction to know who they were.

Spencer was talking to one of the baristas, probably asking questions for the case they were working. For a brief moment, I thought I might slip past him unnoticed, ducking out through the side door before he could see me. But as I turned, coffee in hand, fate had other plans.

“Y/N?”

The sound of his voice froze me in place. I turned back slowly, like a child caught stealing from the cookie jar. Spencer’s wide eyes landed on mine, and I watched as a mixture of surprise, panic, and something softer flickered across his face.

“Hi, Spence,” I said sheepishly, as though running into my secret FBI-agent boyfriend was the most normal thing in the world.

“What are you doing here?” he blurted out, his voice a little higher than usual.

“Buying coffee?” I offered, raising the cup in my hand for emphasis.

The team was watching now, their eyes bouncing between me and Spencer with obvious curiosity. Agent Morgan was the first to speak, a sly grin creeping across his face.

“Wait, wait, wait. Reid, you *know* her?”

Spencer opened his mouth to respond, but no sound came out. He looked like a deer caught in headlights. I bit my lip, suppressing a laugh. My poor genius. Utterly out of his element.

“Um,” he started, fidgeting with his tie in that adorable way he always did when he was nervous. “This is… uh… Y/N.”

“That explains absolutely nothing,” Prentiss teased, crossing her arms over her chest.

I decided to help him out. “I’m Spencer’s girlfriend,” I said matter-of-factly, taking a small sip of my coffee. The room seemed to freeze.

“Girlfriend?” Morgan echoed, his grin widening. “Reid, *you* have a girlfriend? You’ve been holding out on us!”

Hotch gave Spencer a look that was somewhere between amused and stern. “Reid, how long has this been going on?”

Spencer swallowed hard, his face flushed all the way to the tips of his ears. I’d never seen him so flustered. “Uh… about a year,” he admitted, barely audible.

Prentiss whistled under her breath. “A year? Reid, are you kidding me? And we’re only just now finding out?”

Spencer looked like he wanted the floor to swallow him whole. I took pity on him, stepping closer and slipping my hand into his. I felt his fingers relax slightly in mine, though his entire body was still tense. “He didn’t tell you because he didn’t want me to get caught up in… well, the dangers of his job,” I explained softly, glancing up at him. “He just wanted to keep me safe.”

His eyes met mine then, softening as he squeezed my hand. For a moment, it was like we were the only two people in the room. “I just couldn’t risk anything happening to you,” he murmured, his voice low so only I could hear. “You’re everything to me.”

My heart melted. God, I loved this man.

“You’re not getting rid of me that easily, Spencer Reid,” I whispered back, smiling.

Morgan groaned playfully. “Okay, okay, that’s enough of the lovey-dovey stuff. I still can’t believe Reid had a girlfriend this whole time.”

“Believe it,” I said with a smirk, leaning into Spencer’s side. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

Spencer looked down at me then, his eyes shining with a mixture of affection and relief. I could see the tension leaving his shoulders, the weight of the secret finally lifted. Maybe this wasn’t how he’d planned for his team to find out, but I knew it didn’t matter anymore.

Because now, we didn’t have to hide.

As the team ribbed Spencer and made jokes about meeting me sooner, I pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, feeling his skin burn under my lips. He shot me a look, a mixture of affection and exasperation, but he was smiling.

“You’re never going to let me live this down, are you?” he muttered.

“Never,” I replied, grinning.

And as Spencer Reid’s team finally welcomed me into the fold, teasing him relentlessly while secretly happy that their beloved genius had found someone, he squeezed my hand and smiled at me in that way only he could.

I was his secret for a while, but now everyone knew. And as Spencer looked at me like I was his whole world, I realized that I didn’t mind. Because to him, I was.

[misserabella]

any moots wanna talk?🤍

[doorlesscub00]

Polls in, so I’ll do Spencer Reid x reader fic. If anyone has any ideas or requests do let me know!!

Once I finish Spencer’s I’ll make a Dean Winchester since he was a close second.

[alana-reid-2005]

we all joke about and objectify this man, but do we stop to think how sad his story is? he grew up friendless and ruthlessly bullied for being a literal genius. constantly picked on by his coworkers, and he’s never in on the joke. he’s always being laughed at, never laughed with because no one understands his existentialist humor. he never has plans or places to go on the weekend after work. he goes to work then goes to his lonely home with all his books to keep him company. on occasion, he haunts the chess table at the park or meets with an old professor. no one takes the time to appreciate his weird little quirks. no one took the time to ask him if he was okay after the several traumatic incidents he endured. no one takes care of him because everyone’s too busy leaving. he could be a male model, yet he’s never thought of himself as attractive. when he does find love, he’s brutally stripped of it before he can blink. spencer reid, the lonely genius who learned of love too late and loss too soon.

[street-smarts00]

in omnia paratus

Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Summary: Spencer's been on the fence with his feelings for you. Due to his past traumas he’s decided to keep his feelings hidden. Until you’re caught in a dangerous situation at work

WC: 3.5 k

A/N: I am SO SORRY this took so long. I’ve been sitting on this for two months because I was being a perfectionist and had writer's block. Thank you so much to the person who requested this idea and I hope ya’ll like it! beta read by @whats-yesterday00

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Fluff, Protective!spencer, Friends to lovers, age gap (25 and idk 33 or 34), during season 9 (sadly no post prison Reid, I refuse to watch the show after Derek & Hotch leave), Maeve is implied 

Warnings!: mentions of murder, stalking, gunshot wounds, hostage situation and incorrect info about hostage situation cause Idk I'm not in the FBI

Everyone knew Spencer Reid had a soft spot for you. Well, everyone except for you. 

Since the moment you met you’ve been on his mind. 

“Do you know how old she is?” 

“No, how old is she?” 

“25!” Penelope squeaked before being shushed by Rossi. 

“Wow, she’s gotta be the youngest person to ever be in the BAU. Well, second to genius over here,” JJ commented while pointing to Reid. 

“That’s if she gets the job,” Morgan added. 

They were all crowded around the desks in front of Hotch’s office. The blinds were cracked and they could just barely make out the woman seated across from their boss for an interview. 

Due to the increase in caseload after Alex joined, Hotch made the request to add an additional member of the team. After interviewing a few people that didn’t pan out, he heard quite a bit about you from your supervisor saying how well you’ve done with the FBI and you’d be an exceptional fit for the team.

Then of course Penelope looked up everyone who was interviewing with Hotch. You being her most recent victim. 

“How long has she been with the FBI?” Alex questioned. 

“Three years,” Penelope answered 

“What? Did she join right after college?” 

“Not right away. She graduated early and got experience with law enforcement first.” 

Spencer sat at his desk quietly while everyone was peering into Hotch’s office. Not to say he wasn’t nosy as well. You were already behind the blinds when he arrived for work. 

“Oh they’re shaking hands! That has to be a good sign,” Penelope cheered. 

Morgan turned to the window, “It’s definitely not a bad one.” 

Her eyes widened before loudly whispering, “Oh no they’re leaving. Disperse.” 

She scurried off in her heels towards Derek’s desk while he followed behind with a grin. JJ, and Rossi averted their eyes from Hotch’s office and found Alex’s desk far more interesting. 

All while Spencer’s attention was brought to the woman led down the stairs by his boss. It felt like his heart stopped beating when he saw how beautiful you were. He was brought back to earth as Hotch introduced you to the rest of the team. 

“This is Dr. Spencer Reid,” he gestured to the man sitting at his desk. 

You offered him a small wave and a kind smile, “Nice to meet you.” 

It became quite obvious you two would get along very well. From very early on conversation flowed incredibly well between the two of you. There were very few people that he felt were easy to talk to because of his niche interests and the way he would ramble spitting facts left and right. 

But he never had to worry about saying the wrong thing or talking too much with you. You often were a content listener or you would even match his passion on certain subjects. Most were topics Spencer already knew about. 

When you first met Spencer you didn’t know the Dr in his name meant he held 3 PhD’s or that he was quite literally a genius. 

So you were often telling stories or facts you found interesting that he already knew. In fact, almost every “fun fact” you brought up, he knew about already.  

But he never interrupted you. He always was listening intently to what you had to say. Like he was hearing about it for the first time. 

At some point you learned of his eidetic memory and how vast his knowledge was. It was during a case where you found out and mentioned it to him. 

“Reid, remember when we were at the harbor and I mentioned that thing about sharks?” You hesitated, “did you know that already?”

“Yes,” he guiltily admitted. 

You partially deflated suddenly feeling that the whole tangent you went on was pointless. “Why did you let me go on and on if you already knew?” 

His eyes softened, “because I wanted to hear you talk about it.” 

That was when his feelings started to peek through. As the months went on it only grew and grew. And you were none the wiser.

To the average person, it might not seem like much. Perhaps you were just good friends. But to a team of profilers (and best friends) it was painfully obvious. 

It was almost painful the way he looked at you with a longing in his eyes. Or when his gaze immediately turned to you to catch your reaction or smile. 

It was obvious by the way he found any excuse to bring you up in conversation. Or how in conversation with you he would mirror your mannerisms and lean closer to you. 

As well as the things he remembered about you or the little things he did for you. Like the countless coffee cups he bought for you from his favorite coffee shop before work. And when he saw you struggling to find something or open something he was always right there to help. 

Spencer Reid had feelings for you. Feelings so deep that he couldn’t pull the roots out even if he tried. 

He didn’t know what to do with his feelings exactly. He hadn’t felt this strongly for someone since … well for a while. He was terrified of history repeating itself. 

He couldn't lose you. He’d seen first hand what this job did to him, what it did to Hotch. Their loved ones ripped away from them too soon.

So for now at least, he kept his feelings to himself. 

Well, until your last case. 

The BAU was called in on a case that just turned serial. They found the unsub to be a man named Mark, who started killing because his girlfriend cheated on him. The first two victims reminded him of the man she cheated with. When that didn’t satisfy him, he hunted down and killed the other man. 

Now the team and SWAT was stationed outside a bus that Mark was holding hostage. He stalked his ex-girlfriend and tracked down the new city bus she took. 

The officers couldn’t get a clear shot of him because of where he was standing and he kept using the passengers as shields. Rossi was currently on the phone with him trying to make negotiation terms and get some of the people off the bus. Mark however was incredibly stubborn and didn’t want to let his leverage go. 

So Rossi asked about the children on the bus and if Mark would be willing to let them off. They were met with silence on the other end of the phone, contrary to his previous behavior where he loved to hear himself talk. 

After a short pause the phone spoke. “I’ll only send out the kids if you send in an agent.” 

Rossi shifted his weight and crossed his arms. “Are there any other circumstances you’re willing to send out the children for?” he asked. 

“Nope,” he said with a pop at the end of the word. 

A look of concern was quickly exchanged between Rossi and Hotch. While their faces didn’t reveal much, their eyes spoke volumes. 

“How about this,” the unsub continued. “I’ll send out their moms too.” 

Rossi’s eyebrows furrowed slightly at the eagerness to comply from the criminal. “You’ll send out the children and their mothers if we send in one of our agents?” 

“I promise.” 

Rossi returned his eyes to Hotch who stood rigid and tall with his arms folded. He was met with an approving nod before returning to the call. 

“Alright, we can agree to those terms.” 

“Oh and agent Rossi?” Mark perked. 

“Yes?”

“Send in a girl.”

There was a tension that quietly branched out between the agents listening to the phone call. 

“Why do you want a woman?” Rossi asked, clearly changing the dialogue used.

“I’m losing too many ladies sending out these moms. I want one back,” he replied with a cockiness to his voice. 

Ross confirmed they could send in a female agent. Almost immediately after the unsub hung up, you volunteered to be the agent going on the bus.  

“I’ll do it.”

Spencer’s head shot in your direction. “No you're not.” His voice was laced with concern and a hint of demand.  

“Reid-”

“He specifically asked for a woman. We don’t know what he’s planning, he’s devolving.”

“And I’m willing to take that risk to make sure those kids are safe,” You defended yourself. 

You turned to your boss waiting for his thoughts. Hotch knew you’d been exposed to enough high tension scenarios to know what you were doing. But just like any member of his team, he silently hesitated, worrying for your safety. 

He took a breath before meeting your eyes again. “Send her in.” 

Right before you were led to the bus, Hotch took off the holster on his ankle and handed it to you. “Some extra protection in case something happens.” You couldn’t hear the concern in his voice, but you saw it clear as day in his eyes. 

You made your way to the bus and saw through the window Mark holding a gun to the driver and telling him to open the door. You stepped on and the doors closed quickly behind you. The unsub took a long look at you, panning up and down. 

“Well how about that. Aren’t you a beauty? He said with a cheeky grin. 

You tried your hardest not to look disgusted with him. Instead you kept your composure and spoke with courage and a confident demeanor. 

“You this flirty with all your hostages?” you asked plainly.

As he gazed down at your legs his eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed. He bent down and with the gun in his hand, pushed away the bottom of your pants leg. When he saw the gun in the holster, he tsked. 

“You always carry this much dead weight on you?” 

He stood back up and put his hand out, “hand it over, I told them no weapons.” 

You reluctantly took off Hotch’s holster and placed it in the unsubs hand. Your one line of defense was gone. 

The longer you were on the bus, the more anxious Spencer got. He knew you were an exceptional profiler, and you had enough experience and skill to handle yourself in situations like this. 

But that couldn’t stop the ache in his stomach or the fact that his heart rate could power a car by now. 

He stood closer to the bus now to get a clearer view of the windows. They managed to successfully get the children and moms off and to safety, but you weren’t safe. Spencer figured you were trying to negotiate with the unsub, but that was going nowhere. This was confirmed when Rossi tried calling him again but every call was ignored. 

This unsub was stubborn as hell. He knows he trapped himself, but didn’t want to back down. At least he didn’t want to go quietly. 

Spencer was talking with the rest of the team trying to devise a plan when the gunshots were fired. The team immediately ran back to the cacophony on the bus. 

More shots were fired, he didn’t know where from. He didn’t care. 

He just needed to get to you. 

When he got a decent view through one of the windows that hadn’t shattered he saw you. Your hand over arm in pain but still standing in front of the civilians to protect them. The unsub stalking over to you, gun in hand and smacking you over the head with it. You slammed against the chairs and fell to the floor. 

Spencer's face paled. He swore he was going to throw up. 

Through the fog of his mind Spencer saw Morgan escorting Mark off the bus, his hands now behind his back in cuffs. 

He rushed past them, clambering through the door and up the stairs to get to you, calling your name. 

“Reid?” he heard your small tired voice through the crowd. 

He followed it to you, laying on the ground struggling to open your eyes and clutching your left arm. 

He crouched down to your level with a gentle hand on your uninjured arm. 

“Hey, I’m here. I’m right here,” he comforted. 

“My head hurts,” you mumbled.

His eyes softened, “I know. I think you might have a concussion, you need to go to the hospital.” 

You slowly started to fade out of consciousness. Spencer’s heart dropped and his hand moved from your arm to your face. 

“No no no no stay with me okay?” he caressed your cheek with his thumb.

“Stay with me sweetheart,” he consoled.

Your eyes stopped struggling to stay open and finally made their close. His other hand rushed to your pulse point as he called for a medic.

Time seemed to stand still while Spencer sat next to your hospital bed waiting for you to wake up. He couldn’t leave your side. He didn’t want to. 

You were okay. You were laying in the bed in front of him. But of course in his mind he ran through all the possible scenarios of how things could’ve gone worse, how things could’ve gone better. What would’ve happened if you didn’t have your gun taken away, or if the unsub got angry that you tried to bring a gun in. What if he didn’t lose his cool and start firing. What if you never went inside in the first place. 

And with all of those possible scenarios, the same thought plagued him. 

He was wrong. 

Before he was too scarred from past traumas to reveal just how much you meant to him. Not wanting to repeat the past and lose yet another person he loved cared for. 

But now, after seeing you in danger right in front of him, now he was terrified at the thought of you never knowing. He was now more scared you would never know how much he loved the way your nose crinkled when you smiled. How he thought the sound of your voice could cure any ailment he had. How he admired your strength and desire to protect others. How you could light up anyone's mood by just being you. How he could listen to you for hours, even if you were lecturing him on things he’d known like the back of his hand.

To him it was a whole new experience hearing it from you. 

Spencer was pulled from his thoughts as you stirred awake. He saw your eyes adjust to the bright fluorescent lights ahead. He quickly got up to dim the lights for you. 

When he returned to his seat you smiled at him, “hi.” 

“Hi,” he smiled back.  

“How are you feeling?” 

You sighed. “Like shit,” you complained with a hint of humor. 

“The doctor said you have a minor head injury, bruised ribs, and the shot to your arm thankfully didn’t break any bones.” 

“Fun,” you said sarcastically. 

A moment of silence passes between you two. He doesn’t exactly know what to say. How do you casually tell your friend and coworker you have a crush on them? 

There is no casual way. 

“You called me sweetheart,” you broke the silence. 

He furrowed his eyebrows, “What?” 

You fidget with the blanket, “earlier, when I passed out on the bus. You called me sweetheart.”

He searches his mind for the memories of the day. When he finds the memory he realizes in the heat of the moment the term of endearment slipped out. 

He wasn’t aware you heard it. 

“I did,” he confirmed as his ears flushed.

“Why?” you asked curiously. 

He didn’t know how to tell you that he’s wanted to call you that for weeks now. So instead he settled with-

“It just … felt right.” 

“Oh,” you replied quietly.

Spencer tensed up at your response. 

“If I crossed the line-“ 

“No. Of course not,” you interrupted with a comforting voice. 

The corners of your mouth lifted and cheeks dusted pink. “I thought it was sweet. You don’t normally say stuff like that.”  

His heart warmed at your confession and a smile spread on his face. 

“You thought me calling you sweetheart was sweet?” he lightly teased.

“Shut up,” you chuckled, rolling your eyes. “You know what I mean.” 

Your laughter was cut short by a sharp pain in your abdomen. You bit down on your lip and gripped the side of the bed in pain. 

The reality that you were injured on the job was rushing back to him. 

He licked his lips, his nervous unconscious habit. 

“I was really worried about you.”

“I know.”

“No, you don’t,” he interjected. 

“The entire time you were on that bus I was sick to my stomach. Terrified that something bad was gonna happen and it did,” he started to ramble. 

You leaned closer to him. ”But I’m okay Reid.”

“You still got hurt. He shot you for christ sake!” his voice raising in pitch and volume. 

“Reid-”

“He lashed out at you! You could’ve died!” 

“Spencer,” you said firmly, pulling his attention towards you. 

He never heard you say his name before. No matter how many times he said you could call him Spencer, you still called him Reid. Hearing his name fall from your lips was like the consistency of honey.

You placed your hands on his face caressing his cheek. His golden eyes meet yours. 

“I’m alright. I’m still here,” you consoled. 

“But if-“

“Spencer.”

“Please,” he pleaded. “It’s important.” 

You nodded your head, signaling for him to continue. He gently grabbed your wrists and brought your hands in his. He took a deep breath before he decided to spill the thing that had been eating away at his heart. 

“I have feelings for you. I have for a long time. Almost as long as you’ve been at the BAU,” he started. 

With your hands in his he started tracing his thumb over your knuckles. 

“If we don’t have work I count down the days until I can see you again. When I do see you I desperately want to see you smile, see you happy. And if I’m the one that causes that smile, it makes my whole day. That’s why I never interrupted when you talked about something I already knew. The way your face lit up when you talked with such passion was the highlight of my day.” 

“For months I was scared of my feelings and I kept them to myself. I was too scared to admit how much I liked you because I-” his hold on your hands tightened.

“I know what it feels like to lose someone. This job takes so much from us; I never wanted it to take you.” 

Spencer let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in. 

“Today I realized it would be more painful if I went the rest of my life not telling you, than having even a fraction of a moment with you.”

A moment of silence danced between you two. Your head reeling from his confession, heart beating so hard you could feel it in your bones. Your palms sweaty from holding onto Spencers, but still neither of you let go. 

The silence was deafening, plaguing him. 

“Please … say something,” he begged. 

Your lash line was collecting tears that you simultaneously tried blinking away. Your eyes found his tie less intimidating than his gaze.

“I never thought you would like me back,” you said with a soft tone. 

Spencer's cheeks turned red as his heart started melting. “I do.” 

You brought your eyes back to his. That precious smile on his face was infectious. 

“Listen,” you squeezed his hands. “I’m not going anywhere. So you have as much time with me as you want.” 

Spencer's eyes softened at your words. He raised your hands and placed a loving kiss on your knuckles. 

The two of you were too lost in eachother to notice the footsteps towards the room. 

“Hey, I found some Jello for her if she-” Alex abruptly stopped once she noticed what she walked into. 

You both awkwardly pulled your hands away from each other; you fiddling with the hospital blanket, him rubbing his palms on his slacks. 

“So, feeling better?” she asked hesitantly. 

“Much,” you answered, still a bit flustered. 

“Good, good to hear,” She tried not to sound too smug, but the small smile on her face said otherwise. 

She raised and shook the jello container in her hand. 

“I’m gonna leave this here,” she placed it on the table. “I’ll be back in a bit.” 

“Thanks Blake,” you thanked as she left. 

Once she was gone you quietly giggled and mumbled “oh my god,” under your breath. 

“You know, she kept teasing me asking when I was going to ask you out. And don’t even get me started on Morgan,” he chuckled, shaking his head. 

Your jaw dropped and eyes furrowed. “Did everyone else know but me?” 

He pressed his lips in a thin line, “pretty much.” 

“I must be a shitty profiler,” you half joked.

“Absolutely not,” he said in the most comforting voice. He brushed the hair that had fallen in front of your face behind your ear. 

“You’re an amazing profiler.” 

You smiled that smile he loved so much. The one where you couldn’t hide your joy and your nose crinkled. 

“So, how do you think you’ll spend all those moments with me?” you inquired with a bit of a teasing tone. 

“Doing anything sweetheart,” he answered seriously. He looked at you with awe written all over your face. “I'm ready for anything with you.” 

“in omnia paratus” - ready for anything

Tag asks: @adrienneleclerc @ladybirdbeetle7

[alexander-arcturus-black-lupin-r]

Gift giving

He always gave you gifts, small mementos and significant things that reminded him of you. It was a dream. You waited for him to finish h8s call with Derek before pulling him slowly into your shared room. 

You took out a box and held it towards him.

“Awww dovie you got me a gift?” He smiles and it crinkles his eyes. 

You cast your eyes to the side, a small smile on your face as he opens the box and pulls aside the tissue paper. He picks up the pregnancy test and turns it over.

Double lines.

Before he can react he notices a little card right after. He picks it up to see it's an ultrasound- and a date. His birthday. 

“The doctor estimates she was conceived on your birthday.”

“Sweetheart…” There are so many emotions flowing through him he doesn't know what to do with himself and there's you standing in front of him looking so scared and so happy.

“It's a girl.”

He drops everything and grabs you holding you tight as he cries in your arms. You both fall slowly to the ground happy and beaming. You gave him the most precious gift he could ever have. 

A daughter. 

[gghostwriter]

One Single Thread of Gold

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: The three times Penelope tries to solve a Spencer Reid riddle and the one time she (and the team) meet the reason behind all the changes Trope: Fluff! Just fluff and team banter! w.c: 4.0k a/n: For some reason, my earlier post on this disappeared dunno why. But this is a very self indulgent fic as reader’s background is basically based on the industry I work in. I had a lot of fun writing the team banter and I hope you enjoy it too! Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated 💗

The first clue presented itself on a dull Wednesday night as the team, minus Hotch and Rossi, were leaving the bullpen after a full day of pushing papers. Penelope in all of her sunshine and colorful glory was buzzing about these accessories that she once spotted on a storefront window.

“I saw a pair of earrings and a matching necklace that would look so good with that top you bought the other day, JJ. You know, the blue one with those soft sleeves—they would look great with it. It’s tres boho chic.”

JJ smiled, opening her mouth to reply, but Spencer beat her to it.

“Did you know that boho chic was actually a response to political and social movements?”

“Wait, what?” Emily interjected.

He took her disbelief as a sign to continue on. “Yeah, yeah. There’s an article written about it in Vogue—softness and femininity historically appears in moments of political stress and war. Just like in the 70s with the hippie and anti-war movement that defined their style as a generation.”

They all piled into the elevator and turned to face the boy genius like he grew another head. For all they knew, this could be a clone and a very bad one at that. The Spencer Reid that they knew had absolutely no interest in the realms of fashion.

Penelope was the first to break the silence. “Vogue?”

��Kid, what gives? Just the other time, you didn’t know how many shoes a woman owns and now you’re some kind of expert?” Derek asked with both eyebrows raised.

“Did not knowing activate some kind of button that made you want to read about it?” Emily added on, feeling like she was in some kind of TV prank show.

“What?” Spencer licked his lips, nervous with all the attention on him. He felt like he was about to slip something up that he had been keeping to himself for a while now. A hidden precious gem that was you. “I—I like to read.” A believable excuse except his voice went up an octave, giving him away.

The three women shared a look.

“But you read academic textbooks and classic literature,” JJ stated.

Penelope added on. “Not fashion magazines.”

He shrugged, trying to act nonchalant. “I don’t discriminate when it comes to reading. If it’s interesting—” he shifted his weight one side to another, thinking that the ride down on the elevator seemed to be taking slower than usual. “—I’ll read it.”

Penelope narrowed her eyes. She was no profiler but she could smell a lie from a mile away way. That wasn’t the whole truth. Dr. Spencer Reid was hiding something.

“Okay, see you tomorrow!” he squeaked out as he ran out of the elevator once it hit the lobby.

She turned to the three profilers, stunned with the boy genius’ erratic behavior. “Huh, did anybody else get the feeling that Spencer was hiding something?”

“Maybe, but the kid does read a lot. Maybe he just ran out of books.” Morgan shrugged.

The other two profilers tilted their heads and slowly nodded in agreement. It wasn’t far off on something Spencer would do. He did once pick up a pamphlet in the airport to read as mentioned before to her by Derek, granted it was for a case but still, Penelope couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something else.

So when she arrived home that very same night, she propped up her laptop and got to digging. Boy Genius was hiding something big and Little Miss Oracle of Quantico can find anything with her tech skills. She’ll get to the bottom of this mystery, once and for all.

———

Spencer was glad to be coming home to your presence. Having spied the lights still on from the outside of the apartment, he took the steps two at a time, excited to see his 2nd favorite person after his mother—you.

“Spence?” You called out, having heard the mahogany front door open. “Is that you, baby?”

“Hey, love. I missed you,” he deposited his satchel to the nearby sofa and ran to give you a hug.

You burrowed yourself into his arms. All the muscles in your body relaxing as you caught a whiff of his cedar wood perfume—the same scent you’ve gifted to him during the early stages of dating. “I missed you too. How was your day?”

“Better now with you,” his words coming out muffled as he refused to detach himself from the embrace. “Actually, I almost slipped up today.”

You extricated from his arms to give him an inquisitive look. The slight scrunch on your nose and raised brows made his heart flutter. How expressive, free, and trusting you were. It reminded him of your first encounter. How you teasingly asked him if he was a serial killer when he offered you a ride home in the pouring rain and how you easily accepted regardless.

“Yeah? Did any of them catch on?” you probed as you pulled him by his belt loops to the direction of the bedroom.

He laughed, finding your aggression cute. “No. At least, I don’t think so.”

“Maybe we should schedule dinner with them sometime,” you coyly suggested as you slowly started to unravel his tie. “I mean, we’ve been together for over a year now and I have moved into your apartment, under the guise of watering your plants while you’re away. Which is a lie, by the way—”

“I have plants!” he protested. His hands divesting you out of his sweater, bringing to view his favorite silk set in deep purple that accentuated your skin and the blush on your cheeks.

“—that I brought over, Spence,” you quipped back. “But don’t worry, I won’t spill how the intelligent FBI agent fooled naive me into moving in with him.”

There was a glint in his eyes that sent shivers down your spine. “Love, I wouldn’t exactly call you naive—” his voice going an octave lower. “—not when you’re looking at me with those tempting eyes of yours.”

Giggling, you leaned in for a kiss, one that he quickly took over. His calloused dominant hand wrapped around the back of your neck, effectively caging you in while his other cradled your cheek—a stark contrast to the other. Kissing Spencer had always felt like a religious experience that you never want to part from.

Reluctantly pulling away, you caught glimpse of his need for you. His hazel eyes now dark as ink, nostrils slightly flared, teeth sinking into his lower lip, and his dominant hand dug into the fleshy nape of your neck. It made you feel desirable, like the goddess that he would call you when he’s on his knees tasting nectar from the source.

The discussion of inviting the team out for dinner was long forgotten. No other words were spoken as you pushed him on the bed—only the cries of his and your name and moans of ‘yes’ echoed well into the night.

***

The second clue was uncovered when Spencer walked into the cold windy bullpen with new black cardigan adorning his lithe body. It was non-descriptive to the untrained eye but for fashion enthusiast Penelope Garcia, she knew what those four white lines on the sleeve meant—luxury label and priced well above their pay grade.

She narrowed her eyes. The Spencer she knew wouldn’t dare spend his salary on anything besides limited first edition books. Something was truly up and she planned to get to the bottom of it as her initial online search turned up nothing.

“Reid, that’s a really nice sweater,” she complimented, throwing in her bait.

He smiled. The thought of who gave it to him warmed his heart. “Yeah. Yeah, thanks Garcia.”

Her sparkly pink kitten heels clacking on the floor as she came closer. “Can I see it?” she innocently asked.

The request threw Spencer off the loop but thought nothing of it as he shrugged and handed it to her—still warm from body temperature.

Her squeals caught the attention of the other profilers filling into the office.

“What is it, baby girl?” Morgan deposited his bag on the table and stationed himself beside her. “It’s Reid’s new sweater. Are you seeing something I’m not seeing?”

Garcia rolled her eyes. This was why females are considered more observant that their sex counterpart. Her chocolate thunder was a profiler but how could he not notice what she was deducing?

“Huh,” Emily surmised. “Based on the fibers, it’s definitely not polyester. Possibly a 100% wool, what do you think, JJ?”

“It says here on the tag—100% virgin wool,” she read out loud. “That makes it very expensive, right Garcia?”

The colorful tech analyst smiled. Her girls could never let her down. “Right you are, girlfriends! But it’s not only that, this—” pointing at the four stripes on the sleeve. “—this is a signature Thom Browne detail. Their prices go up to at least 600 dollars—” they all turned to Reid who seemed clearly agitated. “—now why does our boy wonder have a piece that could buy at most five cute heels?”

With his vast intellect, he couldn’t think of a way to weasel out of this impromptu interrogation. He couldn’t very well say that it was a gift now could he? If he did, that would lead to another hard hitting question ‘from who?’ He raked his hand through his curly hair, taking the same path as yours did just earlier as you gave him a kiss goodbye.

When you gifted him the cardigan from your last New York business trip, he really thought nothing of its material equivalence, besides feeling grateful and loved. It was proof that you paid attention to even the littlest details about him.

“Hey Spence, I got you something,” you looked up at him with sparkling eyes. The first thing you had done when you got home was run into his arms. A simple act that healed his aching heart from missing it’s other half.

You reached into your luggage, enthusiastically pulling out the black clothing wrapped in tissue paper like some magician pulling out a rabbit from a hat. “Here you go!”

“A new sweater!” He exclaimed.

You rocked on your heels, looking bashful as you explained the reasoning behind it. “I noticed you fidgeting when you wore the cardigan JJ gifted you last Christmas, the polyester fibers used on it must have been really itchy so I got you a new one—” your eyes widened at how your explanation could be taken the wrong way. “—not that her gift wasn’t great! No, it was very cute! It’s just—I want you to be comfortable and protected during your cases in cold states. Polyester is a good insulator of heat but wool is still the best.”

He loved how unabashed you rambled about your interests. That was one of the first things he piqued his notice. How you liked to share your knowledge about the fashion industry that you work for but never coming across as stuck up or snobby, you just genuinely wanted to educate anyone who had a wrong perception of the billion dollar commerce. Admittedly, he was one of them but hearing you rave about it’s nitty-gritty details and socio-economic movements changed his mind. It also helped that a beautiful and intelligent woman, such as yourself, was educating him.

He pulled you in for a kiss, stopping all the worries that ran through your head. “I love it. Thank you.”

“It’s nothing at all, baby. I like taking care of you. Just like how you take care of me,” you reasoned. “Plus I got it on sale courtesy of the magazine connections.”

A tap on his shoulder brought him out of his reverie. It was Penelope with an eyebrow raised at the subtle smile that graced his face while he replayed the moment in his head.

“Okay,” Morgan drawled. “What’s got you smiling, Pretty boy?”

“Nothing,” he squeaked out, turning to see Hotch make his way across the office. Spencer hurriedly collected his things and started to move even before their unit chief could call their attention.

“We have a case,” Hotch announced.

The remaining BAU members all looked at each other, silently communicating about Reid’s irregular demeanor, before piling into the conference room for another grueling scene of murder.

“He’s been acting weird,” Garcia rushed out. “Definitely hiding something. What do you think, Em?”

Emily nodded. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“A girl?” JJ guessed.

“Yes, must be a special one for him to keep secret for so long,” Garcia surmised. “Do you think he’ll hate it if I go further digging around to find out who she is?”

“Further?” Emily clarified.

JJ laughed. “Probably, let’s wait for him to volunteer the information. Okay, Garcia?”

She sighed, shoulders drooping, before nodding in agreement.

***

The third clue was quite literally handed to Penelope Garcia on the jet after a case when she accompanied the team.

“Cold Alaska is so not good for my skin,” she grumbled as she rummaged her bottomless bag for her favorite hand cream. “I love going with you all on trips rather than being stuck in my own tech cave but the weather wasn’t it.”

Morgan chuckled. “Aw c’mon baby girl, don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy our time together?”

“You, my sculpted hunk, and the fireplace were the highlight,” Penelope turned to the other female profilers. “My beauties, do any of you have lotion? I think I lost mine.”

Before JJ or Emily could even utter a word, a tube made its way to her lap courtesy of her seat mate, Dr. Spencer Reid.

“Reid, since when do you carry lotion?” Emily inquired.

He shrugged. “Hand cream has it’s benefits besides from moisturizing the skin, it also provides an additional layer of protection. Depending on it’s properties, it can also repair and undo damage.”

The females all shared a look. This was another unexplainable behavior from their resident genius.

“We know that,” JJ stated. “We just thought you didn’t.”

His brows furrowed. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Well, besides from the fact that you’ve never shown interest about skincare before, isn’t it a stereotype for men not to know? Unless—” Emily slyly smiled and nodded at Garcia to continue.

“Unless you have a girlfriend that we don’t know about,” Garcia bounced on her seat.

Hook, line, and sinker.

Spencer’s eyes widened in alarm. He didn’t realize he was walking into a trap before it was too late. “What makes you say that?”

They laughed.

JJ started. “Besides from you suddenly being knowledgeable in fashion—“

“—or having a pricey sweater you’d never buy for yourself—” Emily added on.

“Or, or—“ Garcia reached out to touch his hand. Which made Spencer react with a high pitched call of her name. “—having a shea butter lotion with rough hands!” She waved the tube up in the air. “Plus, this is half empty. So either it’s not working which I doubt since this is a good brand or you keep this in your bag for a special someone to use!”

Derek chuckled. “Baby girl, you could be a profiler at this point.”

“Oh tell me something I don’t know,” she quipped back. “So Reid, want to tell us the truth?”

He sighed, finding no escape. “Yes, yes I have a girlfriend.”

The girls all shrieked with laughter and their own corresponding questions of who is she? How did you meet? How long has this been going on? What does she do for a living? Is she pretty? Oh I bet she is!

“Looks like that cat is out of the bag,” Rossi nonchalantly stated.

Four sets of eyes turned to look at one of the BAU founders. “Rossi, you knew about this and didn’t tell me?” Garcia gasped, a hand to her chest at the thought of betrayal.

He laughed. “I caught them on a dinner date once and our boy wonder over here—“ nodded in Reid’s direction. “—begged me not to out him yet, said he wanted to be the one to tell the team the news but that was like what, six months ago?”

“Six months ago?” Emily repeated.

“Wait, wait. Hotch, don’t tell me you also knew?” Morgan asked.

The unit chief smiled. “She was added to Reid’s emergency contact last February.”

“February? That’s almost a year ago!” JJ sputtered out.

The tech analyst turned to glare at the youngest member of the BAU. “Reid, you better start spilling all the details or so help me, I will stalk all your digital footprint when we land until I find out who she is, where she lives, and what her deepest darkest secret is.”

“What about hearing it all from her, instead?” He rubbed the back of his neck. The secrecy had gone on for so long and there was no time like the present to introduce his chosen family to his chosen partner—hopefully until the end of time. “She wants to treat you all out for dinner tonight.”

All four nodded vigorously as they watched him pull out his phone and send a quick text to which you readily replied and agreed to.

“My man,” Derek sighed. “Can’t believe you got a girlfriend without me being your wingman.”

“Answer me at least this, is she pretty and does she make you happy?” Garcia asked. No matter how nosey she may be, she only wanted the best for Spencer and if the recent lightness and smiles were all caused by his mystery girlfriend, she already approved.

“The prettiest,” Spencer gushed out. “She’s my own personal sunshine.”

The three girls melted into their seats. Their youngest was all grown up waxing prose over his lover.

“She makes you sappy too,” Derek teased.

***

[EXTRA - When the mystery was uncovered]

Spencer had never felt any more nervous that this moment as he, with the rest of the team minus Hotch and Rossi, wait for your arrival. He sat with his back to the restaurant entrance and his cardigan laying on the empty seat beside him as a reservation mark. His eyes had been going back and forth to his idle phone and to the conversation the team was having.

Morgan noted his state of distress and chuckled. “You okay there, lover boy? She’s still coming right, your mystery girlfriend?”

“Yeah, yeah. She said she was on her way 9 minutes and 24 seconds ago and based on the route and traffic, she should have been here 45 seconds earlier. Just worried that something might have happened.”

Penelope leaned in, picking on her bubblegum pink choice of drink as she did. “You know, if you just told me her name I could have tracked every movement by now and you wouldn’t be sitting here worrying.”

“What—no Garcia, I don’t want her tracked plus she didn’t want you to know everything about her even before meeting her,” his voice going up an octave in your defense.

She shrugged. “I’m just saying. I mean we don’t know a single thing about her—”

“We do know she exists and you’ve been together for almost a year now,” Emily interjected.

“Actually, it’s been more than year—one year and 124 days to be exact.”

“Buttercup, all I’m saying is we don’t even know how she looks—” Garcia gasped, having spotted a passerby on the window and what she was wearing. “Oh my gosh, that maroon coat is to die for and that textured leather bag—I wonder if I could track her down and ask where she got it.”

“Oh she’s pretty,” JJ noted.

Derek smirked. “Baby girl, tell me if you plan to ask her ‘cause I wouldn’t mind asking for her number.”

The tech analyst’s eyes further widened as she noted the attractive woman going inside the restaurant.

“You weren’t kidding about that coat, Garcia, it looks really nice,” JJ appraised.

Emily squinted her eyes, taking note of the garment in question. “It looks high quality, probably vintage and—is she going near us?”

“Oh gods, she is! Act natural, act natural!” Penelope chanted as she repeatedly slapped Derek’s arm.

The stranger stopped behind Spencer. “Hey handsome,” your melodic voice was a siren that called to his every being. “Fancy seeing you here.”

Penelope’s jaw dropped as she took in Derek’s flustered reaction.

“Me?” He pointed at himself, getting picked up in such a public setting was new even for him—the ladies man of the BAU.

You laughed. “Well, you too but I was more of talking to this lover of mine—“ you bent down, kissing your boyfriend’s cheek. “Hey, Spence.”

A series of gasps were heard all around the table.

The youngest stood up and turned to give you a soft kiss on the lips. “Hey, Y/N. I was starting to get worried.”

“I missed the train, sorry I forgot to send an update,” you explained as he helped you into your seat.

Promptly seating back down, he angled his body to yours—all attention on you as if you were the only one in the room. And in a way you were, with how molten his doe eyes stared, alternating between yours and your painted lips that begged to be kissed.

He always felt breathless when you were near. It was as if he found his very own Aphrodite to worship here on earth. Spencer was no believer of fates or destiny but he would pray and light a candle if he needed to, just to keep you his. Your intelligent mind complimenting his, your outgoing personality that draws anyone in, and your face that could launch a thousand ships.

Those eyes that could read the deepest crevices of his fiber of being. Those cheeks that begged to be caressed by his calloused hands. Those soft lips that deserved to be kissed and devoured until you, in turn, were as breathless as he was. He suddenly wished you both were anywhere else but here—specifically in the confines of the apartment where he was free to express his love, devotion, and adoration until you scream his name and beg him to stop. His hand, having found it’s way to your thigh, squeezed the flesh three times—communicating his promise to have your hair laid around you like a halo as you lay under him, bare and writhing with need.

The blonde on the other end of the table cleared her throat, cutting through the tension.

“Okay, Spence,” she smiled. “Mind introducing us to your girlfriend?”

He brought your hand to his lips, leaving a series of sweet kisses on your knuckle. “This is Y/N, my girlfriend. Y/N, this is the rest of the team. Morgan—“ he gestured to each one. “Emily, JJ, and Garcia.”

“It’s nice to finally meet you!” You exclaimed. “So sorry we’re only meeting now. We wanted to stay in our little bubble for as long as we could plus this handsome FBI agent—” you nudged Spencer’s shoulder. “—wanted to keep me to himself. But where’s Aaron and Dave?”

Emily whispered under her breath. “Aaron? Dave?”

“They had prior commitments, love. They did send their regards and Rossi wants to invite you to the next gathering at his mansion,” Spencer explained.

“Love?” Penelope squeaked out. This was really starting to feel like Twilight zone for the team members.

You nodded. “I’ll definitely plot it on my calendar. Now, I heard you had some questions for me?”

“How’d you two meet?” JJ asked.

“When was the first date?” Emily inquired.

Penelope brought out a pen and paper. “What’s you social security number?”

Derek snorted at that. “Do you have any other siblings?”

Spencer’s eyebrows raised further and further up with each question while your shoulders shook with laughter.

“She has all the time in the world to get to know each of you,” Spencer laid out. “No need to make it sound like an interrogation.” He was wishing to keep you forever, if you’d let him.

You smiled as you caressed his cheek, having caught on to the veiled meaning behind his words. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[briefkittenearthquake]

I like my men smart

[nereidprinc3ss]

kiss it better

in which spencer notices your bruised knees and tries to make it up to you

18+ (fluff, allusions to past intimacy) warnings/tags: gn!reader i believe, reader has bruised knees lol, guess why, implied intimacy, hurt/comfort, sorta implied d/s dynamics maybe?? spencer is so smart and not very smart, but forever my no. 1 cutie pie a/n: why do i love writing about smut like before and after smut way more than i actually like writing smut LOL anyways here is this cause i haven't been posting very much!!! (also ik I said I don't like babe as a pet name but shhh) and GIF :D

“Hey,” you grunt as you flop on the bed in your pajamas, rumpling the neat covers. “Pay attention to me.”

Spencer holds his Sudoku off to the side and watches, eyebrows raised, as you scoot closer, tossing your leg over him. Soon he’s abandoning the book and pen on the bedside table in favor of hooking his fingers under your knee and stroking your leg, much to your delight. 

“Okay. What kind of attention would you like?”

You allow him to put his other arm around you and settle your cheek on his shoulder. 

“This is pretty good.”

“Oh, good,” he says with only a hint of teasing, leaning down slightly to kiss your lips and then the tip of your nose. 

When he pulls away you can’t help smiling up at him like a lovestruck idiot. Obviously he’s perfect all the time, but in his glasses, with his hair messy, wearing a navy crewneck instead of a button up and tie… he’s just… he’s just so…

He’s just so alarmed?

“Honey, your knee.”

“My knee?” Your own brows furrow and you track his eye line, craning your neck to look down to the blotchy sprawl of purple and red marring your skin. “Oh.”

The pillow is soft under your head where it falls, unconcerned even as Spencer gawps at you, baffled by your nonchalance. 

“What did you do?”

You snort. 

“What did you do, Spencer?”

It’s cute, the way his lips move as he silently repeats the sentence, trying to discern the meaning of your words. 

“What do you mean? I did something?”

“Babe.”

The knot between his brows has not loosened any—in fact you’re worried he’s going to give himself a headache. Or at least make himself dizzy, with the way his eyes cycle between your own. You try again, covering his anxious hand on the bend of your leg with your own. 

“When we got back from Penelope’s thing, the other night?”

Slowly the understanding seeps into his expression—soft guilt in his eyes, and a deep red stain in his cheeks. At least his face relaxes. 

“Oh.”

God, he’s so cute. He can’t hold eye contact, looking down once the shock of embarrassment has faded and swallowing, a little frown twisting his features once more. You reach up, brushing his cheek with a thumb and adjusting his glasses. 

“What’s wrong?”

The question comes out too smiley, but you can’t help it. 

“I hurt you,” he says, quietly, utterly ashamed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

“I kinda think you did,” you tease, and Spencer says your name with a serious edge. You try to quit grinning so much. “Baby, it’s fine. You didn’t hurt me. Don’t you ever get mysterious bruises?”

His eyes are wide and honest on yours when he meets them again. 

“No. My iron levels are optimal.”

Naturally. 

“Okay, well, lots of people do. Sometimes I get a bruise and I have no idea what it’s from because it never hurt. These,” you look down, gesturing to your knee, “never hurt. It’s just what happens when your knees hit the floor.”

“Well you shouldn’t have been on the floor,” he scolds, countering with a sweet touch on your cheek. “I’m never letting you touch the floor ever again.”

Your shit-eating grin is back and better than ever. “Oh, so you’re going to carry me everywhere we go?”

“If that’s what it takes. I don’t like seeing you bruised up.”

“It’s okay. I bruised myself doing something I love.”

At this Spencer rolls his eyes and kisses you once more before gently pushing your leg away and getting out of bed. 

“Where are you going?” You ask, all smugness gone and more concerned than you ought to be as he flicks the bathroom light on. For a moment you receive no answer, but then he reappears bearing a white tube. 

“Give me your legs,” he says, sitting next to you on the bed. You swing your legs over his lap and watch on in mild interest as he dispenses lotion from the bottle and tosses it aside, carefully rubbing it into the bruised skin. Every few seconds he glances up to gauge your reaction, and though it’s definitely tender, you avoid wincing. “You don’t have to do that. I can tell it hurts.”

You laugh. 

“Yeah, well, it didn’t until you started trying to fix it.” The ointment is pungent and you make a face. “What are you rubbing all over me?”

“This is vitamin K and Arnica. It will make the bruises go away faster.”

“Aw. You don’t think they’re pretty on me?”

He sets the bottle on the nightstand and retrieves the pen he’d been doing Sudoku with earlier, uncapping it. Your heart swells as he draws tiny sad faces by the bruises on your knees, glasses slipping down his nose as he focuses intently. 

“I always think you’re pretty. I just never want you to be hurt, ever.”

“Are you done taking care of me now?” You ask, reaching out for him. The pen joins the bottle and suddenly he has no concern for your bodily health, practically crushing you with a hug. When he speaks it’s muffled by your shoulder. 

“Never.”

You hum, nose tickled in his hair and forming a dastardly plan. 

“You could kiss them better.”

Spencer laughs and presses his lips briefly to your neck. 

“I might just do that.”

[ddejavvu]

hey could i request something with spencer where he like stretches and his top lifts up revealing a bit of his tummy and the reader just can’t resist reaching under his shirt and giving a little squeeze, just a cute little moment and maybe someone witnesses and teases them but they don’t care because they are just so in love with each other that it’s almost upsetting to look at 🥹

Spencer's combined stretch and yawn clearly relieve tension that's been building in the profiler's shoulders for god knows how long, but when you reach out to pinch the soft skin of his belly, he yelps in distress.

"Ow! What- you-!" Spencer blinks rapidly at you, somewhere between offended and confused, "Did you just pinch me?"

"Sorry." You shrug, "I saw it so I had to grab it."

Spencer's brows furrow, and you know his impressive brain is recalling a time when he'd heard Morgan schmooze a woman at a bar with those exact words. She'd been delightfully good-natured about the entire thing, and you hope Spencer will follow in her footsteps.

"You're a creep." He decides, "You waited until I was vulnerable, and then you blitz attacked me to incapacitate me so that you could have your way with me."

"That's my M.O," You nod patiently, "What's my motivation?"

"You love me?" He guesses, cheeks beautifully rosy as his voice peters out bashfully.

"That's why you're the BAU's genius," You grin, leaning in to kiss at his warm cheek, "You're always right."