luvv-danielle

[luvv-danielle]

no no let me see, i insist 😋🙏

Perhaps ¹³⁾ skinned knees and/or ¹⁵⁾ frozen peas pressed against a fresh bruise with Spencer, Steve, or Peter? 🙏💛

Thanks for requesting!

cw: recounted violence, hints at our poor Peter's trauma </3

tasm!Peter Parker x fem!reader ♡ 773 words

Peter’s quiet the whole way back to your apartment. You try to be quiet too, though you can’t help a small gasp when he swings onto the side of your apartment building and every instinct in your body is telling you you’re going to hit the bricks. 

“It’s okay,” he says, opening your window with one hand. “I’ve got you.” 

You crawl inside clumsily, envious of the way Peter hops over you with practiced effortlessness. He closes the window and heads for the kitchen without a word. You’re caught between feeling guilty and wanting to repair things, but ultimately you follow him. 

He’s closing the freezer when you enter, mask on the kitchen counter, a bag of peas in his hand. “C’mere,” he says, flicking on the stove light. “Let me see.” 

You go, letting him take your face in hand to tilt your right eye towards the light. Peter inspects you carefully. His eyes are dark in the low light, disconcertingly serious. After a few seconds he sets the peas to your cheek. 

“It’s gonna bruise pretty bad,” he says. 

“It doesn’t even really hurt,” you try, throbbing. 

Peter looks tired. Hardly mad, more exhausted than anything. “Why would you do that?” he asks, his tone genuine. “I had it handled.” 

It was a freak thing, you stumbling upon Peter on your way home. You’ve seen him as Spider-Man before of course, a few times before you knew it was him and plenty more after, but you’ve never seen him get hurt. It was him versus six guys, the late hour casting shadows but Peter’s suit bright as a beacon. Nowhere near a fair fight. Peter had two of them webbed to a dumpster within five seconds of you spotting them, but another landed a blow to his stomach with a tire iron that had him doubling over. You saw one of the guys coming up from behind him and moved without thinking. 

You didn’t even really get into the thick of it. A thrown elbow caught you in the face, half a second of startling pain in your cheek and the corner of your eye, and then Peter had the rest incapacitated before you could get your bearings to punch back. He took you straight home. 

“I’m sorry.” You set your hand over the bag of peas, meaning to take it from him, but Peter doesn’t let go. “I got scared. It looked like you were losing.” 

“I wasn’t losing. I had it handled, I just—” He pushes out a breath. “You can’t freak out like that.” 

“I saw you get hit.” 

“It was just one hit! I get hit sometimes, that’s the job, but it’s not your job.” Peter’s voice turns raw. “You can’t do that. Okay? You can’t. I have powers and you don’t, I’ll be fine, but you can’t put yourself in danger like that, okay?” He looks at you, expression taut with worry. “Say okay.” 

“Okay,” you say.

He breathes out. Leans his forehead against yours. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“No, I’m sorry.” Peter kisses the bridge of your nose, his tone softening. “I can’t believe you got hurt.” 

“It was my fault,” you murmur. “And it’s just a bruise. You got hit with a weapon.” 

Peter makes a breathy, amused noise. “Weapon is a stretch. It was a tire iron.” 

“Are you okay? Did they break anything?”

“No, no. I’m fine.” 

“Really?”

“Yeah.” He backs up a little so you can see his face. Both of your hands are still on the peas. “I’m fine, baby. I’m good. Don’t worry.” 

You know Peter doesn’t lie to you—not anymore, not since he told you about what he does—but you’re still not entirely comforted. “I want to see.” 

“Later,” he promises. “How does your face feel, really?” 

“Fine, really,” you say. “It hurt the most when it happened.” 

Peter nods, brows sewing together as he lifts your makeshift ice pack to see underneath it. You can’t imagine the appearance of your bruise might have changed much since he last saw it, but you don’t object. 

“Do I look pretty?” you tease. 

His smile is soft as he puts the peas back in place. “Beautiful,” he says genuinely. 

You bite your lip to suppress your own smile. “I can hold this here on my own, you know.” 

“I know,” says Peter. His finger strokes gently up yours, the material of his suit glove smooth. “Just let me for a while, okay?”

[luvv-danielle]

IN WHICH your boyfriend surprises you at work. with coffee.

౨ৎ⋆˚࿔ boyfriend spencer reid x reader (fluff)

you were typing on your computer, legs crossed and chin propped on your palm as you tried to pull through the morning, doing your best to ignore the fact that you were missing something very important- caffeine.

the lights in the office were way too bright for a thursday morning, and you wanted nothing but to go home and curl up in bed. or maybe get some coffee to keep you awake, considering you had another half a dozen hours of work left.

|| 9:02 AM : “good morning, love. i haven’t heard from you today, is everything alright ?”

|| 9:07 AM : “hi, spence. sorry, i was kind of in a rush this morning…”

the brief conversation you’d had with your boyfriend this morning was still open on your phone, untouched. it was already complicated enough to keep your attention on the laptop in front of you, you couldn’t tell spencer how awful you were feeling right now.

you’d slept through the alarm. woken up to a sore throat. rushed to work, only to realise the cafe next to your workplace was was closed today.

no medication. no caffeine. just you and a long, boring day of sitting in the damned office.

until someone knocked at your door.

you looked up, wondering who could it be. the last thing you needed right now was for someone to see you in that state, and you didn’t think you could handle human interaction right now.

“come in ?” you coughed, fixing your hair while you waited for the door to open.

just as you were about to get up to see for yourself, the handle clicked and to your surprise, appeared the dreamiest thing you could imagine.

spencer reid, the prettiest boy you knew, in all his glory. silky hair tucked behind his ears, his messenger bag slung over your shoulder, and the softest of smiles on his face.

“before you ask,” he explained, walking to your desk in a couple of quick strides. “yes, i’m supposed to be at work and no, i won’t get fired for being here. i’m on paperwork duty today so hotch won’t even notice i’m gone-“

he dropped a brown paperbag on your desk, and you chuckled, your mood somehow lifting from his presence alone. “spence, what the hell are you doing here ?”

“-as i was saying, i was just taking a quick break from doing the most boring thing possible, to bring you a little something.”

“your pretty face ?” you asked playfully, looking up at him from the chair and trying to keep your mind off the soreness in your throat.

“no, no ! i mean yes, i really wanted to see you. but i’m bringing you coffee cause you mentioned it over the phone… so… goodmorning”

at that, he couldn’t help the silliest smiles from creeping up his face, and gestured to the paperbag on your desk. you reached for it and in fact, found a warm cup of-

“oh baby, you got me my favourite ?”

spencer nodded, feeling strangely proud and grateful for his eidetic memory. not that he particularly needed it when it came to you, the person he could easily remember every detail about.

“latte with oat milk, double shot of expresso and vanilla cold foam. i’ve had it memorised since our first coffee date.”

just as you opened your mouth to thank him, a cough hit you. it wasn’t the first time this morning, but definitely a very bad timing. your boyfriend has a habit of worrying too much about you.

“love, are you alright ? what’s wrong ?”

he helped you take a sip of coffee, the sweet flavour hitting your tastebuds in the most amazing way. the warm drink soothed your throat and you reassured him. “i’m fine, spence. just… feeling a bit crappy this morning, that’s all.”

but of course, spencer reid wouldn’t be himself without his stubbornness. he pulled a chair next to yours and sat down, long limbs brushing against yours.

“don’t lie to me, please…” he whispered, leaning forward so that you looked at him. “you’re coughing and you look a bit pale. not to mention the empty tissue box that’s right there.”

“damn profiler,” you huffed, rolling your eyes. “right. i’m sick.”

it’s not that you didn’t want him to worry about your situation, you enjoyed him taking care of you. but he had already been nice to show up here unannounced just to “say goodmorning” and you didn’t want to take advantage of his unmatched kindness.

so, there it was.

“did you catch a cold ? is anyone else around sick ? you’re taking your supplements, right ? the one i gave you ? and every day ?”

“yes, mom.” you joked, preferring to pull the sarcastic act than to tell him every word you spoke hurt like hell. “i’ll be fine, it’s really nothing.”

the way you downplayed it made spencer want to rip his hair out, because why did you always have to act so careless ? he suddenly thanked himself for coming over, knowing you’d never have told him by yourself.

“you should’ve told me.”

“i knew you’d worry.” you answered with a shrug, chugging coffee that had just reached the perfect temperature.

“i am worried.”

of course he was. he’s the federal agent, the one risking his life everyday, and yet his safety means nothing compared to yours.

but you reached out for his hand, interlocking your fingers with his and reassuring him with a silent squeeze.

“spence, i promise you i’m fine. you’ve done more than enough, and seriously… you have no idea how much this means to me.”

his lips formed a lopsided smile and he squeezed your hand in return, amused by your words. “love, i just brought you coffee.”

an involuntary chuckle escaped you. “see ? that’s what i love about you. you’ll do the most romantic thing ever and brush it off like it’s nothing.”

and it was true, he really was perfect to you. from buying you flowers each week right whek the previous ones faded, to always carrying your work schedule and articles printed in his bag, and texting you “goodmorning” and “goodnight” every day like clockwork.

he really was the best.

“but this isn’t nothing,” he retorted. “this is you being sick, and i’m not brushing it off. you need medication and you need rest…”

“but-“

he frowned, and cut you off before you could say anything else. “no buts, baby. take it easy today, okay ? and i’ll drop by your place tonight after work to take care of you.”

yeah, he definitely wasn’t going to leave you alone. not today, and probably not anytime soon. so you just put the coffee down, and sighed.

“okay.” you nodded, somehow please by the idea of him coming over, no matter what the reason behind it was.

spencer got up, grabbing his bag when he realised it was probably time for him to head back to work. the way you’d agreed so easily threw him off a bit, but he unfortunately didn’t have time to tell you that.

“so, i’ll be there as soon as i’m done with the endless report files.” he promised you, opening the door and trying to stop himself from running back to you and kissing you senseless.

“right, tonight. and thank you again for coffee, you really should do that more often…”

spence laughed, eyes softening at your comment. “delivering you your coffee every morning ? sure, it’s not like i have three PhDs, a real job or anything…”

truth is, he gladly would pursue a career change if it meant getting you to smile like that more often. but he couldn’t tell you that now, so he just kept his focus on the fact that you were ill.

and that the quicker he was getting back to work, the quicker he would be able to leave to see you again tonight.

“i’ll see you tonight then,” you told him, a little disappointed by the fact that he was going away so quickly.

“see you tonight, baby.” he says, reluctantly walking out the door. “and seriously, take your supplements.”

“spencer reid, enough !”

and with that, he left the office.

[luvv-danielle]

SPIDERMAN!JAMES!!!!! HES PERFECT FOR A SPIDERMAN AU

discovering your boyfriend is spiderman*. ⋆

cw: fluff. brief mention of blood. desperate james. reader is in danger (kinda, not really). not proofread!

cw: OMGG this concept is perfect!! let me know if you'd like to see more of him<3 as always, feedback is very much appreciated. remember english isn't my first language!

“that’s for attacking my girlfriend, you idiot!”

the words slipped from his lips before he had time to rethink the situation.the anxiety quickly crawling up his chest after he realized what he’d just done. just the result of too much adrenaline coursing through his body along with the fear he’d felt as soon as he realized that drunk dickhead was following you.

and you, well, you hadn’t expected to see your boyfriend tonight, neither spiderman. and you had totally not expected to see them both. at the same time.

you’re still pressed against the wall of a random alley, your purse clutched to your chest and your heart hammering in your ribs, “jamie?”

you see how his body tenses when you say his name, barely hearing him murmur something that sounds a lot like “oh fuck”.

“james, is that you?”

defeated, he sighs and takes the mask off, turning around to face you. the faint light of a street lamp allowing you to see your boyfriend’s guilty face with that damn smirk that always makes your stomach flip no matter how mad you are. your eyes follow down to the rest of his body, covered in the familiar red and blue suit.

“hi baby” he says softly.

you blink, “you’re spiderman,” you stare at his body again, noticing his side slightly damp from what looks like blood. “what the fuck?”

“yeah… it’s a funny story.”

you stare at him in shock, breath slowly leaving your lungs while the gravity of what just happened finally hits you.

“you’re spiderman,” louder now. almost hysterical.

“i was gonna tell you, i swear,” he whines, “it’s just- i didn’t know how.”

“you didn’t know how to tell me you’re a freaking superhero?!”

he winces at your tone, your voice sounding more harsh that you’d wanted to.

he looks utterly miserable, his big brown eyes wide open in panic because he really doesn’t have a clue about what else to say.

you slowly walk up to him and put a hand on his cheek, and he instantly rubs against it like he always does when you try to pull him for a kiss.

“you’re an idiot,” you drag him by the face to put your forehead against his, his hands moving to rest on your hips, pulling you closer to him.

“you should’ve told me,”

“i know,” he mutters, “but it was like i could never find the right timing.”

“i don’t even think there's a good timing for news like this.” you insist.

“i guess, but showing up to your window after patrolling didn’t seem like a good way to surprise you either.”

you smack his shoulder. not hard, just enough to make you both laugh.

“you’re gonna tell me everything.”

“i will, baby” he gives in to kiss you but you turn your face to the side.

“i’m serious, james… you-”

“don’t call me that.” he whines, pouting at your denial.

“what? it’s your name!”

“but you always call me baby or jamie. james is only for when you’re really really mad at me.”

“that’s because i am!” despite all, your fingers brush away a few curls clinging to his sweaty forehead, his eyes closing at the gentle contact. “my boyfriend was out there fighting bad people and getting hurt and i had no idea.”

“i already said i was sorry, baby” he takes your hand fixing his hair and brings it to his mouth, kissing your knuckles.

“and you’re going to tell me everything. with details.” you repeat, the sensation of his warm lips on your skin sending shivers down your spine.

“whatever you want, baby. now c’mere. let me kiss you properly.

lostrologyy © 2025.

[luvv-danielle]

AHHHHHH 🤍🤭

just for you, i let it happen

pairing: spencer reid x fem!bau!reader

summary: you and spencer spend long enough pining over each other, the team helps you along. or: 4 times the team tries to get you and spencer to acknowledge your feelings for each other +1 time it works.

word count: 7.1k

content: fluff, usual criminal minds talk (unsub, kidnapping, etc), probably bau-related inaccuracies, mutual pining (idiots!), team shenanigans, one fake date, and one real one <3

a/n: hill lovelies!! i know it's been so long since i've posted something but i hope u guys will enjoy <3 i had so much fun writing for my sweet boy spencer!! my first spencer longfic!!!

ᯓ★

It’s taken you a few trips to perfect your go bag. To figure out what’s really necessary and what isn’t. Today, lugging your duffel on your shoulder, you’re grateful to have left that second pair of shoes behind.

Your bags always feel a bit heavier after a case. You’re already weighed down by the events of the last few days, your body tired, feet heavy.

You’re glad to be the first one to board the plane, sinking into one of the seats and letting your bag drop at your feet. You’re glad that the case is over, glad to be going home, glad to get to sleep in your own bed tonight (though it'll most likely be morning by the time you get back to Quantico).

The rest of the team follows suit, sighing as they get into their own seats. Spencer and Hotch are the last to board, Hotch always waits until every member is inside before taking his turn, and Spencer often gets distracted telling him some statistic about planes or airports or anything really.

Today, for once, Hotch asks Spencer a follow up question and — delightedly surprised — Spencer keeps talking.

You’re sitting by the window in one of the front rows on the jet, facing away from the entrance and most of the team. You don’t see Spencer climb into the plane, but you hear the shuffling.

Spencer usually sits near the back, playing chess against himself or reading a book and then another since he finishes them so fast. Sometimes, he sits with JJ, even rarer he’ll find himself across from Morgan who likes to tease him enough that he’d rather not be there every single flight.

He wants to sit with you, but Spencer has found himself reverting back to his early BAU self where you’re concerned. Shy, fumbling, either rambling or having no clue what to say.

You’re his friend, you’re kind to him and ask about his mom often. You bring him back a coffee whenever you grab one for yourself (if he beats you to it, he does the same), and it’s always as sweet as he likes it to be. He lends you books he thinks you’ll like, and never pesters you for them back even though you know you take forever to return them.

He walks you to your car after work every day, even if he’s finished before you are. You don’t know that bit, but he waits until you’re leaving to pack up his stuff and follow you to the elevator.

All of that, and still, Spencer gets nervous around you. He can’t even bring himself to sit next to you on the jet even though you’re beside each other at the round table each time without fail.

This time, the team’s decided to help him along.

Initially, he goes for his usual seat in the back, and finds Emily sprawling files all over the small table despite the fact that she gets nauseous reading on the plane. Behind Spencer’s back, Hotch takes the seat across from her and shakes his head when she winks at him.

Then, it’s Rossi, who’s fake-arguing with his agent over the phone about his next book. JJ’s sprawled across the small couch near the snack bar, digging into a travel-sized bag of Cheetos.

Finally, there’s Derek, who kicks his feet up onto the seat across from him when Spencer heads toward him. “Sorry, pretty boy,” he says, though he doesn’t look (or sound) sorry at all, “looks like you’ll have to try your luck over there,” he nods towards where you sit across the aisle.

You, too distracted attempting to dig your thin fleece blanket from your bag, don’t notice anything until Spencer clears his throat lightly. You finally tug your blanket from your bag and sit up, looking over at Spencer standing in the aisle, rocking on his feet once.

“Do you mind if I..?” he gestures loosely to the seat next to you.

“Of course not,” you say.

You breathe in as he sits next to you, and he smells like cinnamon and the pages of a book. Warm, comforting. You try not to let it show on your face how pleased you are to have him beside you.

When you joined the team, you’d been the most anxious you’d ever been in your life, and you remember hesitating before walking into the bullpen, wiping your palms on your black pinstriped trousers.

And then, the first face to greet you was Reid’s, and he was so sweet, apologizing for not wanting to shake your hand, spewing a fact about germs and then folding his lips into his mouth like he was stopping himself from saying more. For those few seconds, you weren’t thinking about impressing everyone, weren’t focused on that pit in your stomach at the thought of so much newness.

You liked him immediately, and his looks only made it all worse for you. His hair disheveled, his clothes neat, his hands waving around in front of him, and his voice, so lovely and focused as he sounded off statistics. You’ve been housing a crush on him ever since.

You’d heard Morgan call him pretty boy that day, and you couldn’t help but think of how fitting it was. Derek may have been teasing, but Spencer really is pretty.

And then you got to know him, got to become a part of the team and learned about his little quirks and the way that he still wouldn’t shake hands, but doesn’t mind a hug every now and then. You learned that he was pretty inside and out.

So, as he settles in next to you on the jet, you can’t help but hide a smile. You’re on the plane before him most of the time, and he’s never joined you until now.

“I have to warn you,” you say, “I might not be the best seat buddy. I almost always fall asleep after takeoff.”

Spencer shrugs, pushing his hair behind his ear and he pulls his book into his lap, “That’s alright. I like quiet.”

“What if I snore, Reid?”

“You don’t snore,” he tells you.

“Maybe I do. How would you know?”

Rather than admit that he pays attention to you during flights, that he sometimes catches himself staring at you all peaceful in your seat while he waits for his coffee to brew, that he knows you don’t snore because he’s seen you sleeping and all you do is bunch your blanket in your fists and scrunch your brow from time to time, like you’re dreaming, he says:

“Ambiance for my reading. Like white noise. You know, having an auditory background can actually support cognitive development and emotional health.”

You smile and shake your head at him. You don’t think you’ll ever be used to the way he knows something about everything, just like that. Before you can reply, the pilot alerts you all that you’ll be taking off shortly.

Spencer opens his book in his lap, and you sink into your seat and close your eyes, squeezing them shut until the jet is up in the air steadily.

Soon enough, you’re falling asleep as promised. For a while, your head’s leaning back against your seat; Spencer can’t help but think of how your neck will be sore from the position. Just as he has the thought, the jet jolts a little bit in turbulence, and your head lolls to the side and ends up on his shoulder.

He goes still for a second, afraid you’ll wake up from the movement, but you don’t. You shift the tiniest bit, almost nuzzling into him, and then you relax again. Your breathing remains steady, and Spencer tamps down a smile as the smell of your shampoo surrounds him.

Across the aisle, Morgan raises an eyebrow, shooting Reid a pointed look. Spencer simply goes back to reading his book.

He doesn’t get up to use the bathroom at all, turns pages slower than he usually would, keeps his shoulder and arm still even though he can feel them falling asleep a little. All so that he doesn’t disturb you.

Sleep is such a vulnerable state, and although he knows you nap on nearly every flight, he feels like he’s won something by having you resting on him. Like you’re comfortable, like you trust him.

Just for a second, Reid lets himself rest his head against yours.

It isn’t until you land that you wake up, the plane hitting the pavement jostling you enough that you blink your eyes open. The first thing you register is the feel of something soft beneath your cheek. When that something soft moves a little, you realize it’s Spencer’s sweater.

Still groggy, you lift your head, “Shit. Sorry, Spence. I didn’t mean to sleep on you.”

You’re a bit embarrassed, really. The one time he sits next to you on the jet and you wind up using him as a pillow without his permission.

Meanwhile Spencer doesn’t mind one bit. All he can focus on is the sleepy way you called him Spence just now. Usually, it’s Reid, occasionally, it’s Spencer, but this is the first time you’ve ever called him Spence. He wants to hear you say it again.

“Actually studies show that having weight against you can help to lower your heart rate and lessen anxiety,” he responds.

A smile ghosts across your face, because you know that’s his way of telling you not to be sorry. “So, I should be saying ‘you’re welcome,’ then?”

Yes, he thinks.

-

The team is headed to Portland this time around, and though you still don’t enjoy flying (you still need the help of a gravol-induced nap), you don’t dislike it as much.

Spencer sits with you more often than he doesn’t now. Even with you using him as a pillow half the time. He doesn’t seem to mind, which never fails to surprise you whenever you wake up.

It’s nice, though. Nice enough that you think about what it would be like to nap close to him in other ways.

You picture him on the other side of the bed in your studio apartment, picture yourself on the couch at his place (which you’ve only seen once). You imagine what he’d wear when he isn’t working, or whether he wears his glasses more often at home.

You’re snapped out of another daydream when the airport shuttle pulls over in front of the hotel you’re set to be staying at this time around. You’d landed too late to head to the police station, had left immediately after wrapping up another case, and Hotch determined at least a few hours of sleep would do you all some good.

He’s the one who goes up to the front desk when you walk inside, and comes back with only four room keys instead of seven and an apologetic Penelope on the phone.

“I’m so sorry my lovely crime fighters. They were pretty full for tonight, so you’ll have to double up, my loves.”

None of you can see her, but she’s smiling on her end of the line. She may have not booked enough rooms on purpose.

Immediately, Emily and JJ pair up and take a key from Hotch, heading to the elevators with their elbows looped together and heads bent like they’re laughing about something. Morgan snatches up another for himself saying something about needing space for “all of this.”

Rossi shrugs and pairs himself with Aaron (“for old time’s sake”), which leaves you and Spencer. Hotch hands you the room key with a simple “we’ll see you at the station at 8” before he leaves with Dave.

“Is this okay with you?” you ask Spencer. “I could always go to the desk and double check.”

“It’s okay,” he says. “We’d better go get some sleep while we can.”

And Spencer means it. He doesn’t mind sharing a room, it’s not like he’s never had to on a case before. It’s only that it’s you. He already doesn’t know how to act around you most of the time, and this feels like a whole new layer of intimacy and closeness he doesn’t know what to do with.

He wants it, of course he does. He would have preferred it in different circumstances, maybe where you weren’t pushed together by default, but still.

Spencer lets you lead the way to the elevators and then to the room. You open the door after fumbling with the key a couple of times and muttering about ‘stupid hotel doors.’

You’re glad (at least, you think you are) to see two beds when you step inside. Behind you, Spencer locks the door and slides the chain lock into place. Then, he slips past you and sets his things on the bed closest to the door. It’s safer for you that way, he thinks, if anything were to happen.

You try not to read into it, but you’re reminded of that time you’d been ranting to JJ about your date not taking the side of the sidewalk closest to the road and Spencer overheard.

It’s not the same thing, you tell yourself. It still makes you feel warm.

“Were you gonna have a shower before bed?” you ask, setting your go bag on your bed.

Spencer’s head flicks over to you “I don’t- uh. You go ahead.”

“Thanks.”

You grab your things quickly and head into the ensuite bathroom, shutting the door behind you and leaning your head against it. It isn’t until he hears the lock click shut that Spencer squeezes his eyes shut and lets his head fall forward.

All you’d said was the word ‘shower’ and he could barely manage a sentence.

He unpacks to keep himself busy as the sound of running water fills the room, grabbing his book from his bag and setting it onto the nightstand between beds along with his glasses and a water bottle.

He’s just finished folding his (few) clothes into a drawer of the dresser when the bathroom door opens and you walk out in nothing but a towel.

There are drops of water running down your neck and shoulders, your eyelashes still wet and thick where they frame your eyes. He tries not to, he really does, but Spencer can feel himself staring at you and he can’t seem to make himself stop.

You look beautiful. You always do, but seeing you this way — the way a boyfriend might — is making his heart thump heavier, his fingers twitching by his sides.

You clear your throat, nervous under his gaze that seems so focused and yet so soft. “Sorry. I forgot to grab my pajamas… so.”

It’s then that he realizes he’s blocking your path, and he quickly steps aside, bumping into the dresser clumsily. “Oh! Right, yeah. I’ll just-”

Spencer grabs his own change of clothes and closes himself into the bathroom. The mirror is still fogged up from the steam, but he starts up the shower again, hoping it’ll help clear his head. Snap him back into it.

When he emerges from the bathroom in a pair of plaid pants and a faded t-shirt, he sees you in bed, your own loose shirt on, legs covered by the blankets, and a book in your lap.

“What are you reading?”

“It’s silly,” you say, setting it face-down on the bed, a little embarrassed. “Just a romance. None of that smart stuff you read.”

“All reading is smart,” he tells you. “It’s not silly. It’s good for you.”

“I’m just saying it’s not, like, in Latin or anything.”

He huffs a laugh, settling into his own bed and sliding his glasses onto his face. So he does wear them more outside of work, you observe. He looks so lovely this way, too. His hair still damp and curling behind his ears, his cheeks rosy behind the frames. It feels like a privilege, getting to see him so.. unguarded.

“I’ve read romances, you know,” he says.

“What?”

“Mostly the classics. Jane Austen, the Brontës.”

You’re not sure why it surprises you so much, but it does. You suppose you’ve always thought that Spencer’s idea of reading for enjoyment was beyond romance, more complicated, scientific. But you should’ve known he’s read just about everything by now.

“You, Doctor Spencer Reid, have read Pride and Prejudice?”

“‘You have bewitched me, body and soul,’” is his response.

“Oh my god.” A smile stretches onto your face, slowly mirrored on Spencer’s.

You end up staying awake later than you should talking about which movie adaptation you prefer (“2005. Obviously.”), about other books you’ve both read, and then about their adaptations, too. Over time you both sink deeper and deeper into bed until you’re laying down facing each other.

You’re not even sure when you fall asleep, all you know is that Spencer’s voice is the last thing you hear, all slow and soft with his own tiredness.

When you wake up, you’re still facing each other, laying on the sides of your beds as close to the other as possible. Spencer’s arm hangs loosely over the edge, like he’d been reaching across the gap for you in his sleep.

-

The next case is only a week later, but you don’t have to fly this time around.

It’s only a 15 minute drive from Quantico, and that’s without the sirens and Morgan behind the wheel. That means you get to set up in your usual office, sleep in your bed for a couple of hours when you can. You’re never happy to have a case, because people are getting hurt, but it’s a small victory to not have to go far.

Two abductions have happened at local parks, though no bodies have turned up yet. You’ve all been working as quickly as possible, trying to keep those people alive.

Hotch gathers you all in the conference room the morning of day three on the case, delivering roles as usual. JJ to stay in the office and field calls or answer questions, Emily and Morgan to dig deeper into the victims, retracing their steps, Rossi and Hotch to scout the abduction sites again for anything they’ve missed.

You’ve found a man that has been connected to both victims, but not enough to bring him in, which is why, when he gets to you and Spencer, he says:

“You two will be following our suspect today.”

You look at each other, then back to Hotch.

Reid speaks first. “But the geographical profile isn’t done, and-”

“We don’t have anything new for the geographical profile,” Hotch responds.

“Might be good for you to go outside, pretty boy,” Morgan says. “Could use some sunlight, probably.”

“Actually it’s extremely unlikely that anyone could die from prolonged darkness,” Spencer shoots back. “Plus, we have windows.”

“This is where I need you two,” Aaron looks between you and Spencer, “alright?”

“I’ll drive,” you say as your agreement.

It’s not unusual to do stakeouts, though you don’t do them often. What’s unusual is choosing you and Reid for the job that most often goes to Morgan. You can’t bring yourself to be bothered, not when it means you’ll get to spend more time with Spencer.

Despite his putting up a fight, Spencer doesn’t really mind either. Sure, he feels like he can be more helpful doing something else, but ever since sharing a room in Portland he’s wanted to be with you alone.

There was an ease then, a comfort that didn’t come when the rest of the team was around. You’d spoken to each other before bed each night, falling asleep to the sounds of each other’s voices, and Spencer hadn’t even wanted to pack up when the case was over.

If he could have stayed one more night with you there, caught the jet in the morning instead, he would have. Happily.

Ever since that case, he does feel a little less awkward around you, though, and sometimes he wonders if you feel a little bit closer to him, too.

As promised, you drive. Instead of taking a bureau vehicle, Hotch had asked you to take your own. He’d said you’d be less noticeable that way, and that backup would always be close enough if needed.

You unlock your car in the parking lot, watching Spencer climb into your passenger seat beside you. He shuts the door behind him, buckles his seatbelt, and flicks the air freshener you have hanging over your rear view mirror.

“I can take it down if the smell bothers you,” you say.

“It’s nice,” he tells you. Birthday cake, he notices, and he wonders quickly if that’s why you sometimes smell like vanilla when you walk into the bullpen.

“Okay. Feel free to snoop.”

He smiles gently, because he’d been trying to secretly do just that. Your car is mostly clean, a few gun wrappers in the doors and a half-full water bottle in the backseat, but that’s it. Your glovebox is pretty standard, though he does find a loose figurine in it.

You notice him holding it. “That’s my car buddy. Keeps me company when nobody else is in here.”

“Won’t be needing him today,” Spencer says, putting it back and shutting the compartment.

“No, I won’t.”

The man you’re set to be following is still home when you get there, so you drive around the block and wait by the corner until he leaves.

Luckily, you don’t have to wait very long.

“He’s getting into his car,” Spencer tells you.

“And the fun begins,” you say, turning the corner once the man has pulled out of his driveway.

It turns out not to be fun, actually. It’s all very routine and normal stuff. A grocery trip, dropped back at his house before heading out again. An overpriced drive-thru coffee where he actually pays for the car behind him, which happened to be you and Spencer.

“Either he’s onto us, or he’s actually just doing a nice thing,” you say once you’ve gotten your drinks. “I didn’t think people bought other people’s coffees anymore.”

“I would have bought yours,” is Spencer’s response. Quiet and sweet and almost disappointed, like he’d wanted to spend money on you.

Eventually, your target stops at a park, which has both you and Spencer back on high alert. Both abductions happened at parks. You look at each other and get out of your car to follow him.

You notice that the man is carrying a pair of binoculars and a camera, which raises your suspicions even further. He’s equipped to scope out victims.

Spencer works easily alongside you, falling into step without question, going where he needs to without needing to say a word.

The man walks up and joins a group, some wearing cargo vests and almost all of them wearing matching hats with the same logo on them.

You sigh and dial Hotch’s number.

“What do you have?”

“Hey, this isn’t our guy,” you tell him.

“Why’s that?”

“His big secret is…” you look back at the group, “bird watching. It’s why he’s been spotted at a lot of the parks.”

“You’re sure it’s not just a cover?”

“Hotch, there’s a group of at least twenty people with him. It’s a bird watching club.”

“Actually a lot of people, especially of younger generations, just call it birding now,” Spencer chimes in.

You smile. Always something to say.

“Okay, well, why don’t you two have lunch and meet us back here after?”

You scrunch your eyebrows. “You don’t want us back now?”

“We’re not any closer than we were before, and it might be good for you two to be at the park a little longer,” Hotch tells you. “Just in case.”

“Right, okay,” you say, though you’re still not convinced. “See you later.”

You hang up and turn to Spencer. He squints in the sunlight, hair blowing over his forehead. Your hand itches to reach out and push it back for him. Spencer does it himself just as you have the thought.

You clear your throat, “Hotch says to get lunch and then head back.”

“I saw a stand back there with chili cheese fries,” he says.

Spencer doesn’t know why, for once, Hotch is encouraging a break during a case, but he’s not about to fight him on it. Without a BAU-related task to do at the moment, he gets to simply be there with you. Just you and Spencer in a park, getting food.

If he thinks about it for long enough, he can almost see the both of you like this together in more natural circumstances. Maybe then, he’d be brave enough to hold your hand.

“Daydreaming about those fries, Spence?”

He looks over at you, the sun lighting you from behind, surrounding you like a halo. “No, just… thinking.”

There’s something about the way he says it, about the way his eyes are roaming your face and his voice has gone a little bit lower, scratchier, that makes your heart beat heavier.

Before you can respond, he’s leading the way to the food stand, you not far behind. He places your order and pays before you can object.

You’re stationed at one of the picnic tables in a few minutes, a splinter of wood poking the back of your thigh through your pants, but you don’t move. Not when Spencer’s shin is resting against yours beneath the table.

The platter of chili fries sits in the middle of the table, a fork in each of your hands.

“Don’t you have a statistic in there about the dangers of sharing food?” you ask.

“I do,” he says, “but I don’t particularly.. care about that right now.”

-

You get a longer break before you’re called in for the next case, which is nice. You get to be home earlier, sleep in your sheets and spend the weekend lazily.

There’s a minuscule shift between you and Spencer since the park. An ease that wasn’t there before, a string tied in neat little bows tethering the two of you together.

He’s at his desk before you every morning, and there’s always a coffee waiting for you with a small sticky note attached. Sometimes he’ll leave you a fun fact, sometimes a simple good morning.

The last note you’d gotten before this case was just a doodle of a lopsided smiley face, which you’d stuck to the corner of your computer.

You think about those notes, those coffees as you sit in the NYPD headquarters, twirling a paper cup between your hands. Not nearly as good as when Spencer makes it.

You’re sitting beside him in a conference room where Hotch has gathered the team, your ankle leaning against his.

“We aren’t any closer to finding this unsub,” Hotch says. “We’re gonna have to draw him out.”

“Undercover, huh?” Emily asks, a subtle smirk on her face.

“Yes. We know how he hunts. He looks for couples in bars, waits for them to go outside, usually a couple that’s arguing,” Hotch says, though you all already know this. “He waits for them to split up, then takes the woman. He’s deluded himself into thinking he’s doing these women a favor. Like he’s saving them.”

“Probably because they remind him of his mother, who was abused by his father, and the unsub was too weak at the time to stop it,” Rossi adds.

“He’s been targeting the same three bars on rotation, so we know where he’ll be tonight,” Hotch tells the team.

“And you want a pair of us to go undercover.. as a couple?” you ask. It’s not like you’ve never gone undercover before, but pretending to be dating someone? You’re not the best actress.

“That’s correct.”

“I actually think you and Spencer should do it,” Emily says.

“What?” Reid speaks at the same time as you do.

“You are the unsub’s type,” Emily tells you.

“Ew,” is your response.

“And I think pretty boy over here is your best match, sweetheart,” Derek adds.

“I’m not-”

“I actually think that’s a good idea,” Hotch says.

And so, it’s been decided.

There’s a short silence, and then Spencer speaks. “Are we sure this is the best way to do this?”

“It’s okay, Spence,” you tell him, laying a hand over his forearm that lays on the table, his fingers tapping the wood. His cardigan is soft under your hand, and you give his arm a gentle squeeze.

He turns to you, speaking quietly this time, “What if something- I would rather I was the one being followed. Not you.”

Your eyes soften at his words, at the way he looks down when he says them. You run your thumb back and forth against the fabric of his sweater once, twice. “I’ll be okay. You’ll be there, and everyone else. We’ll get him.”

“I know. I just don’t want him to have time to hurt you.”

Your heart pinches. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him so worried, especially not in front of other people. And he isn’t even worried about himself. His concern is you.

“He won’t,” you say.

You turn back to Hotch, and he gives you a nod, “Let’s catch him.”

“And pretty boy becomes lover boy,” Morgan says.

A few hours later you’re dressed in a black mini dress and a pair of knee-high boots, a (nonalcoholic) drink in your hand and Spencer by your side. Your entire side, from shoulder to thigh, is pressed against his where you stand at the bar, warmth sinking into you.

The unsub likes to observe the bar for a while, usually picking a couple and watching them for a couple hours before making his move. That means that you’ve spent a while being Spencer’s girlfriend.

Fake girlfriend, you remind yourself.

Still, if you let yourself forget, just for a second, that you’re on a case, it feels real enough. His hand on your lower back guiding you through the crowd, his chest brushing against your back on the dance floor.

And now, his arm wrapping itself around your waist, fingers toying with the fabric of your dress.

You both have earpieces in, where the team’s been communicating with you (a “nice moves, lover boy” from Derek, or “look at you two” from Emily, and even a “that dress is brilliant, pumpkin” from Penelope).

“I think we have eyes on our guy,” Hotch says now.

You’re almost disappointed when he gives you the signal to head outside. You like being with Spencer like this, and despite the fact that you’re undercover and pretending, you want to stay in it a bit longer.

You obey Hotch’s orders anyway, saying something to Spencer and then slipping out the back door that opens into an alley, Spencer on your heels.

It turns out that pretending to fight with him is the hardest part.

You end up making something up about his eyes wandering, even though you don’t think he looked at anyone else the entire night.

He plays along, defending himself and using words he knows will trigger the unsub. Spencer’s demeanor changes, making himself look more intimidating. He stands up straighter, walks you backwards until you land against the wall, his hands coming up and caging you in.

Your heart races, and not because you’re afraid. Because of how close he is, how you can smell him and feel how warm he is and see that despite his facade of anger his eyes are still unfailingly kind.

Finally, you shove him off of you and storm away. As expected, the unsub emerges out of the shadows, following you down the sidewalk and out of Spencer’s sight.

His stomach sinks. He’d been doing okay when you were beside him, when he knew he could protect you even when he’s well aware that you’re strong, one of the strongest people he knows. You don’t need him to protect you, but he wants to so badly.

Spencer can’t help himself, he speaks into the microphone attached to his cuff, “Guys, what's happening?”

“She’s okay,” Emily says. “He’s definitely following her, but he hasn't tried anything yet.”

“We need to wait for him to make contact,” comes from Hotch.

“What if he-” Spencer stars.

“We have to make this stick, kid,” Morgan tells him.

Spencer knows he’s right. It still doesn’t sit well with him, the thought of a man’s hands on you when he can’t do anything about it.

Your boots click against the pavement, Hotch’s voice in your ears telling you to keep going, that the unsub is getting closer. Just as a warning sounds in your ear, there’s a hand on your wrist.

The grip is tight, pinching your skin enough to leave a mark, but you don’t show it. It’s only seconds until the team and police officers come out of hiding and arrest him, effectively pulling his hands off of you.

Your hand circles the wrist he’d grabbed, rubbing the skin. It isn’t even a minute before Spencer finds you standing by one of the cars on scene, your face lit up by red and blue. He can feel the relief wash over him like a wave. You’re okay, alive. And so, so pretty.

“Hey, Spence,” you say when you see him walk up.

“Are you alright?” he asks, gesturing to where you hold your wrist.

“Oh, it’s nothing. Just a tight grip. I’ve been through worse.”

He nods. “Let me see.”

You hold out your arm, and he gently grabs your wrist and pushes your sleeve out of the way, his fingertips running over your skin, his eyes scanning it. His hands are warm where they hold you, and his skin on yours makes your stomach swirl.

“I’m okay, really.”

“I know,” he says. His eyes lift to your face, soft. “I just- I don’t want you to ever have to do that again.”

You give him a tiny smile. “It’s part of the job, Spence. Besides, I thought we made a pretty good team.”

“I don’t want to have to worry about you being safe. I want to know you are.”

Oh, you think. And you know, can hear it in the sound of his voice, that it has absolutely nothing to do with your abilities, he just cares.

You shift your hand to tangle your fingers with his, and for once, Spencer doesn’t even think of his aversion to shaking hands.

“I’m safe now,” you tell him.

His thumb traces a circle against your palm.

-

+1

The team tries to get together at least once a month. Sometimes trying different local restaurants, more often taking advantage of Rossi’s mansion and lovely backyard when the weather allows.

You’re all flexible, you have to be when you do what you do, so you’re used to rescheduling or switching things up last minute.

This time around, it’s a little too much switching.

A suspicious amount.

First, it’s JJ, saying that Henry is just being far too clingy tonight for her to be able to skip bedtime. “Will won’t be able to get him to sleep, he can be pretty stubborn,” she’d said.

And you understand, of course you do. You give her a quick hug when she leaves the office, and she tells you to ‘have fun tonight,’ with something shining in her eyes that you can’t quite place.

Then, it’s Morgan, who gives no explanation besides him holding up his phone saying he’s just received an ‘offer he can’t refuse’ and then strolling out with his jacket slung over his shoulder.

Weird, you think. Not entirely out of character for Morgan, but weird.

And ten minutes later, when Emily finishes up her paperwork, checks her phone, gasps dramatically, and says that she has to get back because Sergio was trapped in her curtains, or something, it’s even weirder.

“Curtains?” you ask as she collects her stuff.

“Can’t stay, Serg needs me!” is all she says and then she’s gone.

Another few minutes, and Penelope comes by, looking apologetic.

“Not you too,” you all but whine.

“Sorry, my pretty! Internet emergency. My friend’s boyfriend might be cheating, and I have to help a sister in need!”

“But-”

She smacks a kiss on your cheek and leaves, her heels clicking as she goes.

“Where’s she going?” Spencer asks, walking up to your desk, bag slung over his shoulder.

“Something about catching a cheater,” you say. “And JJ, Morgan, and Emily are all out.”

“What?” he asks, leaning against the edge of your desk. “That’s strange.”

“I know. It’s barely even a team dinner anymore. Just us and the fathers, I guess.”

“Actually, Rossi’s not coming. He said something about being on deadline, needing to finish a chapter.”

“Oh.”

“And Hotch said he’ll meet us there, so…”

“Just us and one father, then.”

Spencer leads you out of the bullpen, and you walk to the elevator, then outside. The restaurant isn’t too far from the office, and with spring settling in, the weather is nice enough to want to walk. So you do.

He walks on the side the closest to the road, one hand wrapped around the strap of his bag, the other swinging between you. Your knuckles brush every few steps, and Spencer seems to be slowing his strides just a little bit to stay right next to you.

It makes you feel warm despite the wind biting at your cheeks.

Just as you walk up to the restaurant, both you and Spencer’s phones buzz.

You pull it out of your back pocket and find a message from Hotch: ‘Jack’s not feeling well. See you tomorrow.’

“So, just us,” you say.

“Just us,” Spencer echoes.

“Do you still want to.. I’d get it if you’d rather reschedule it to be an actual team dinner.”

“I don’t want to reschedule,” he tells you.

Before you can respond or think too hard about the soft way he’d spoken, Spencer is walking up to the door and holding it for you, the bell jingling as he tugs it open.

You blink at him, and then take the hint and walk inside. “I didn’t even know Hotch knew how to make a group chat.”

“What’s a group chat?” Spencer asks.

You sigh out a little laugh. “It’s comforting to know that there are at least some things you don’t know, Dr. Reid.”

“It’s actually pretty much impossible to know everything.”

“To know I’m better than you at something, then.”

“You’re better than me at a lot of things,” he says.

And then the hostess is greeting you, leading you to a small table pressed up against one of the windows, and depositing some menus for you to look over.

Rossi had picked the place this time, a small, family-owned Italian restaurant with classic red and white tablecloths and candles sitting atop each table lighting the place in a soft glow.

It’s funny, you think, that he’d pick a place just to not show up. Even funnier that he’d choose somewhere so… romantic. With a single rose in a vase on every table, dim lighting, mostly small tables.

The thought slips out before you can really stop it, “You know, this almost feels like a date. With just the two of us here.”

Spencer looks up from the menu when you say it, his heart thumping. You look beautiful, he thinks. You do every day, even tired or with a split lip. Beautiful whenever he sees you, but it hits him harder now.

The way the candlelight flickers across your face, your eyes sparkling in it, the strap of your top slipping slowly off your shoulder. He wants to reach out and fix it for you. To let his fingers linger.

He’d thought about being brave with you that day in the park, and maybe he still isn’t as brave as he’d like to be, but he’s brave enough to say, “Would that be such a bad thing? Us on a date, I mean.”

You search his face, almost as if you don’t believe him. Like you’d imagined it, but he’s searching your face, too. Waiting for you to respond. The toe of your shoe skims his shin.

“No, Spence. Not bad at all.”

He smiles, so gently, spreading over his face slowly, flickering like he’d been trying to suppress it and failed.

“Good. That’s— that’s good. I’d like it to be one. A date.”

“Really?”

“I know it’s customary to ask before you’re already sitting at the restaurant, but-”

You find his hand on the table, laying your palm over the back of it, cutting him off. “I’d like that, too.”

He turns his hand around and links his fingers with yours.

And just like that, you’re on a date with Spencer Reid. It feels almost natural, like this is how you’ve always been with each other, with only a small layer of nerves at the newness of it all.

You’ve been so used to keeping your crush on him to yourself that it seems like a dream to be sitting here, but it isn’t. You talk about the food, Spencer easily telling you every dish's origins. You laugh and he asks about what book you’re reading now, and you tell him and he listens.

He points out different Italian musicians playing throughout the night, you eat your food and split a dessert. He traps your ankle between his calves when your leg wanders, and you let him keep it there.

Spencer pays and you slap his wrist lightly for not letting you chip in. Then you’re walking back to the parking lot. Admittedly, you walk a lot slower this time, like you’re both dragging the evening out. This time, when your hands brush, Spencer grabs yours, and puts your joined hands in his jacket pocket.

Back at your car, you lean your back against the driver’s side door, Spencer stands not far from you.

“So we agree that they ditched us on purpose, right?” you ask him, your hand still in his now swinging between your bodies.

“Oh, absolutely.” Spencer smiles. “Though I’m not sure if we should be thanking them or getting them back for it.”

“Mmm, let ‘em sweat. I think this would have happened either way,” you say.

“Me too.” And suddenly Spencer’s face is closer to yours, only a breath away, his free hand coming up to prop himself up against your car, framing you in.

Your eyes flicker between his, and you shift a little bit closer, tugging his tie between the fingers of the hand that isn’t holding his.

“Can I?” he asks, and you simply give his tie a gentle yank and his lips are on yours.

ᯓ★

thank u so much for reading! if you enjoyed, please consider leaving a comment and/or a reblog!! it’s what helps the most, and would mean a bunch <3

[luvv-danielle]

all i need rn 🙏

Thinking about how Spencer takes care of you when you're too exhausted to take care of yourself.

He walks into your bedroom to find you on the brink of sleep, carelessly curled up on your end of the bed and his brows raise in slight concern as he scans you. You couldn't even be bothered to change out of your day clothes. He chuckles lightly at the sight, as he makes his way to you.

"Baby?" He gently calls to you, rubbing your calf with his hand as he takes a seat next to your legs. You're unable to respond to the sound of his voice despite hearing it. He tries again, this time kneeling on the floor next to your head.

"Angel?" His fingers lightly brush through your hair as he whispers near your ear.

"Hmm?" You reply hazily.

You wait for him to speak so you can go back to sleep but all that follows is silence. He resumes his motions in your hair and it keeps you aware of his presence. He's waiting for you to gain some more consciousness. You rub your eyes, fluttering them open and Spencer's quick to guide your hand away from your face.

Right. Your makeup.

"What's up?" You mumble, stifling a yawn.

"I know you're tired, and I'm sorry for having to wake you up," he tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "but you do know why it's bad for you to fall asleep like this?"

This is a topic the two of you have discussed before. You're usually quite meticulous about removing your makeup before bed, but you're also no stranger to nights when you can't find any energy to do so.

"Mhm. Clogged pores, risk of infections, bacteria spread, discomfort…" You trail off, summarising his extensive research.

Getting you up and off this bed is a losing battle tonight and Spencer graciously accepts defeat, sporting an endeared grin.

"Can I at least help you get comfortable? Would it be alright if I took these off for you?" He tugs at your top and waits for your response. You nod, letting out a barely audible hum.

Spencer moves off the floor and begins to remove your clothing. "You're gonna have to help me just a little bit, Angel. Lift your hips for me."

You blindly follow his commands, wanting to get it over with so that he can relax and you can go back to sleep. He doesn't relax, though. As he rids you of the last of your clothing, he mentally fights himself on letting you sleep with your make-up. There are so many risks involved, but hygiene aside, Spencer knows that if you wake up with your pillow stained– or God forbid…a pimple– you're going to be beyond pissed with yourself.

The sudden dip in the mattress slightly startles you, as a cool feeling drags against your cheek and you whine.

"Shhhh, sorry, it's just me." Spencer coos.

"What're you doing?" You groan, squeezing your eyes shut, still in a sleepy haze.

"Just wiping off your makeup, sweet girl. You're going to thank me tomorrow." His finger hooks under your chin and he soothingly rubs his thumb just under your lips.

"Spence…" You begin whining but you're unable to pronounce anything else coherently.

He can tell you're slightly irritated, but he doesn't mind. He knows that it's the exhaustion talking.

"I know, I know." He sympathises with his continually gentle tone. "I'm almost done. You're being so good for me right now."

Your lips pout, but you don't complain any further, his words calming you. By the time he's finished ridding your face of cosmetic residue, you're knocked out again. Light snores can be heard from you. He chuckles to himself at the sight of you. So peaceful. So adorable. He leans in closer and plants a firm, lingering kiss on your forehead before he disappears to get ready for bed himself.

"Spence?"

He turns around at your groggy voice, still half asleep. "Yes?"

"Thank you."

"Anytime, my pretty girl."

I do not consent to my work being used to feed/train AI and/or re-posted anywhere by anybody else

[luvv-danielle]

writing incest doesn’t make you “kinky” and it doesn’t make you “freaky” it just makes you a fucking weirdo. let’s hope orange is your color because you’re going to be wearing it for life now!!

[luvv-danielle]

no because imagine spencer meeting his match with a yapper reader, except all you yap about is the silly little romance books you read. and you tell him all about the characters in them.

“omg, reid. and he just asked her who had done that to her, and when she told her he ran out to find the villain”

and he doesn’t understand the excitement half of the time. like, for example, that one time he was laying on the couch, watching a documentary, and he heard you squeal from the other room. he immediately ran to see what had happened and then you just answered that the protagonists had just arrived at the hotel and they had booked a room with just one bed by mistake.

“and that’s bad?” he asks.

“no, baby! that’s great!”

“then why the scream?”

he doesn’t get it. really. but still, he’ll sit down and listen to you yap for an eternity, enjoying the excited glint in your eyes as you squeal and flap your hands around. sometimes he’ll even surprise you and ask you about the characters you told him about.

“has he confessed his feelings for the nanny yet?”

“sadly, no. but he called her his wife in front of his coworkers so no one dared to mess with her”.

“but he hasn’t even told her he loves her?” i swear he’s so confused.

“i know, baby. i know”.

[luvv-danielle]

YEAH I LIKE AI

(A)rtist's

(I)ncredibly good artwork that deserves to be paid for and appreciated for the time they put into it

[luvv-danielle]

“omg, that’s my man!” they say as their favorite character’s name appears on the page

[luvv-danielle]

𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢 𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐲, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐩 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧’ 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐲, 𝐢 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐢 𝐠𝐨𝐭 ‘𝐞𝐦..

hey you. yeah YOU! welcome !!

𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐞… hiii welcome to my blog. feel free to stay as long as you need.

my inbox is always open if you want to request any fic ideas or just want to talk! im always here <3.

dividers - @nicodefresas and @bbyg4rlhelps 🤍

[luvv-danielle]

down the neck - spencer reid x sharpshooter!reader

"Stop breathing down my neck." You huff, glancing through the scope at the unsub.

"Well, I have to lay low too, no?" Spencer frowns.

"It doesn't matter." You squint, humming. "Hit the button and ask Hotch if I can shoot. Be fast."

"Hotch, we have a clear shot."

"I have a clear shot."

"Snippy—"

"Fire."

You click your tongue, pulling the trigger once to hit the unsub's hand and a second to snipe the gun out of range as Morgan flies into the place. You watch through the scope as Spencer looks through the binoculars, and you only start to sit up when you see Morgan pull the unsub out. Then, you actually sit up and start packing up.

"Stop breathing down my neck." You huff.

"You weren't complaining when I—"

You hold a finger to your lips, pointing at your earpiece as Spencer blinks, laughing when you hear a cough in your ears from Hotch.

"Sorry."

"Need I remind you both of—"

"Nope." You puff out your cheeks, slinging the gun around to your back as Spencer raises a brow. "Actually, I think Reid needs a quick reminder. He'd love to go through another HR meeting about how we shouldn't be fraternizing with—"

"We're good, Hotch." Spencer cuts you off, rolling his eyes at you. "We'll see you back at the station."

"You're driving." You mumble, turning off your mic. "Two dollars and I'll drive. Four dollars and I'll make a stop at McDonalds."

"And for five?"

"I'll sneak in a kiss plus everything else."

"I think that can be arranged." He hums, pulling out a five as you press your lips to his, tongue swiping over your bottom lips as he chases when you pull away. You stick your tongue out teasingly as you take the five, craning your neck so that his lips would hit your neck instead. "Hey."

"I'll drop a ten if you—"

"Reid."

You laugh as Spencer jolts straight, pinching the bridge of his nose at the sound of Hotch.

"Turn off your mic next time."

"Roger that, sir."

You're too busy laughing the rest of the way back to be able to drive. (but spencer has no complaints when you hand him back the five with a chaste kiss to his lips).

[luvv-danielle]

"today my boyfriend and i-" what if i burned you and your boyfriend at the stake

[luvv-danielle]

A Mystery Benefactor

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Summary: The BAU team begins to notice Spencer Reid’s sudden upgrade in accessories—an expensive watch, a designer satchel—sparking curiosity. When Garcia delivers a package containing a luxury tie and a note signed Love, Y/N, the truth unravels: Spencer has a mystery benefactor—his wealthy girlfriend. The team demands answers, and the next day, you arrive at the office, effortlessly charming everyone. Over dinner, they interrogate you about your wealth, teasing Spencer mercilessly. Despite his embarrassment, it’s clear—he’s completely smitten, and you have every intention of spoiling him for a long time.

Pairing: Reader/Spencer Reid

The first time the team noticed something was different about Spencer, it was subtle. A new watch—sleek, expensive-looking, but nothing too flashy. Derek Morgan had squinted at it during a briefing, noting how it gleamed under the fluorescent lights.

“New watch, pretty boy?” Morgan teased, nudging Spencer’s arm.

Spencer, who had been flipping through a case file, blinked and quickly tucked his wrist under the table. “Uh, yeah. Just something I—uh—picked up.”

JJ raised an eyebrow. “Picked up? Since when do you shop for anything that isn’t books?”

Spencer hesitated. He wasn’t exactly great at lying, so he just hummed noncommittally and went back to his papers. The team shared a look but let it go.

Then came the new leather satchel, replacing the beat-up messenger bag he had used since his first year at the BAU.

Emily eyed it curiously. “Is that… designer?”

Spencer looked down at the smooth, high-quality leather and gulped. “I… I don’t know.”

Morgan let out a low whistle. “Kid, that bag costs at least a thousand bucks.”

“That’s… that’s a lot, huh?” Spencer winced.

“Reid, where the hell are you getting all this stuff?” Rossi asked, giving him a knowing look. “Did you finally take my advice and start playing poker again?”

Hotch, though focused on his paperwork, raised an eyebrow at that. Spencer shook his head rapidly. “No! No gambling.”

More murmurs from the team. The mystery of Spencer’s sudden upgrade in accessories continued.

But it wasn’t until Garcia waltzed in holding a package that things got even more suspicious.

“Ooooh, my genius bean, something arrived for you!” she sang, setting a box on the table in front of him. It was wrapped elegantly, the brand logo discreet but expensive.

The team practically hovered as Spencer hesitated before peeling the wrapping away. Inside was a stunning silk tie in deep purple, along with a handwritten note.

Wear this tonight. Miss you. - Love, Y/N

Spencer’s ears went red.

Morgan snatched the note before Spencer could react. His eyebrows shot up. “Who the hell is Y/N?”

Emily leaned in. “Are we missing something? A girlfriend, maybe?”

The room went silent.

Spencer, realizing he was very much caught, fidgeted. “Uh…”

The team exploded.

“YOU HAVE A GIRLFRIEND?!”

“How did we not know this?!”

“Wait, wait, wait. She’s the one buying you all this fancy stuff?!”

Spencer cleared his throat. “She… she enjoys treating me, yeah.”

Morgan shook his head, amused. “Damn, pretty boy. You’ve been holding out on us. Who is this mysterious sugar mama?”

Spencer groaned, hiding his face behind his hands. “She’s not a sugar mama. She’s just… well-off.”

“How well-off?” Rossi asked, smirking.

Spencer hesitated before mumbling, “Very.”

“Ohhh, we need to meet her,” Garcia grinned.

Spencer sighed, already regretting everything.

***

The BAU team didn’t have to wait long. The very next day, as they wrapped up their morning meeting, an unexpected visitor strolled into the bullpen.

You walked in confidently, dressed sharply, carrying a small bag in your hand. The team barely had time to react before Spencer spotted you, his eyes going wide.

“Oh no,” he mumbled under his breath.

Morgan, Emily, and JJ all turned at once.

“Is that…?” JJ started.

“Ohhh, she’s gorgeous,” Garcia whispered, fanning herself dramatically.

You smiled as you reached Spencer’s desk. “Hey, handsome,” you greeted, leaning down to press a soft kiss to his cheek.

Morgan’s jaw dropped. “No. Way.”

Spencer coughed, his entire face heating up. “Um. Guys. This is… uh, this is my girlfriend, Y/N.”

“Girlfriend?” Rossi repeated with amusement. “More like mystery benefactor.”

You chuckled, holding up the bag. “Actually, I just came to drop off his lunch. He left it at home.”

Hotch, who had been observing with a rare smirk, finally spoke. “So, Y/N, should we be expecting more luxury deliveries for Dr. Reid?”

You grinned. “I do like spoiling him.”

Morgan shook his head in disbelief. “I gotta ask—how did you two even meet?”

Spencer sighed, resigning himself to the inevitable. “We met at a lecture I was giving a year ago. She—”

“I thought he was adorable,” you finished for him, smiling. “So I asked him out.”

JJ looked between the two of you, impressed. “And let me guess—he said no at first?”

You laughed. “Oh, absolutely. But I was persistent.”

Rossi raised an eyebrow. “Persistent and wealthy. Kid, you hit the jackpot.”

Spencer groaned, covering his face again.

Emily leaned back in her chair. “Alright, Y/N, I think it’s time for the real question. Just how well-off are we talking?”

You glanced at Spencer, who gave you a pleading look. Smiling mischievously, you reached into your bag and pulled out a set of keys, tossing them to Morgan.

He caught them and stared. “Wait. This is…” His eyes flicked to you in shock. “You drive an Aston Martin?”

You winked. “One of them.”

The team erupted into laughter and disbelief, while Spencer simply sighed in surrender.

***

That evening, the team insisted on taking you out for dinner to “interrogate” you properly. They chose a fancy restaurant, much to Spencer’s dismay.

Garcia, grinning, leaned in the moment you sat down. “So, Y/N, I have to know—what is it about our dear Spencer that caught your attention?”

You smiled at your boyfriend, who was already looking like he wanted to disappear into his seat. “Oh, that’s easy. He’s brilliant, kind, and the most fascinating man I’ve ever met.”

Spencer coughed. “I—uh, well—”

Morgan smirked. “And the fact that he looks like a model in a lab coat?”

You laughed. “That doesn’t hurt.”

Hotch, ever the observer, finally spoke up. “Spencer mentioned you were… very well-off.”

You sipped your drink before nodding. “That’s true.”

Emily raised an eyebrow. “Like ‘comfortable’ well-off, or ‘private jet’ well-off?”

You gave Spencer a knowing look before shrugging. “Somewhere in between.”

Morgan whistled. “Damn, pretty boy, you really did win the lottery.”

Spencer groaned again as the team laughed.

As the night went on, you fit right in with the BAU family. They teased Spencer mercilessly, but you could tell they adored him just as much as you did. And despite his embarrassment, he couldn’t stop sneaking little glances at you, his expression soft with affection.

By the end of the evening, Garcia threw her arms around you. “You’re officially one of us now, sugar mama.”

Spencer groaned. “She’s not a sugar mama!”

Morgan grinned. “Right, right. Just a very generous, very wealthy girlfriend who buys our boy luxury gifts.”

You squeezed Spencer’s hand under the table, smiling. “And I plan to keep spoiling him for a long time.”

The team cheered, Spencer turned bright red, and you knew this wouldn’t be the last time they teased him about you.

[luvv-danielle]

Every time I see a big tall guy I just think damn I need that

[luvv-danielle]

[luvv-danielle]

when’s it my turn..?

⋆·˚ ༘ * kiss it better?

warnings: intense ass kissing pairing: percy jackson x fem! reader a/n: I thought of this idea in the middle of the night if it’s stupid I’m sorry 😕

out of all the times you’d chew gum you’ve never been so idiotic that you’ve bitten your lip. think about it: you’re chewing gum in your mouth but you bite your lip? you’ve got absolutely no clue how it happened but before you knew it your lip was pooling crimson liquid. you throw your book to the side and touch your lip, pulling your finger back to see the blood, you pout

“that’s a real shiner you got there” a familiar voice says. percy jackson. aka your number one least favorite human being

you met him when he arrived at camp, almost instantly a rivalry started. a continuous need to be better than the other. what you hated most was how percy wouldn’t leave you alone. you’re trying to sit in silence? you want alone time? you want to complete a simple task? you want to sleep? nope, too bad. because percy jackson prevented you from doing anything

your siblings said it’s because he liked you, just too afraid to show it so he disguised it with hate and tormenting. you, however, did not agree with this. you didn’t think percy felt anything for you besides loathing and absolute hatred. yet a part of you couldn’t help but think maybe your siblings had been right. when you think about it, why else would percy spend all this time with you?

“what’re you doing here?” you snap

he shrugs. “bored”

you squint your eyes at him as he sits beside you, leaning back against the tree. “well go be bored somewhere else”

“I think I’m gonna stay here, it’s comfortable”

“then I’m leaving. I need to clean my lip anyways” you begin to stand up but percy grabs your wrist, pulling you back down

“what the hell are you doing?”

percy places one hand on your cheek and runs his thumb over the bite, red staining his finger. your face flushes the same color at the close proximity. for a moment you give into his touch, just a second. but realization takes over and you pull back, slapping his hand

“don’t touch me, weirdo”

you try to get up a second time, pulled down yet again but this time percy’s lips connect with yours. you might have wanted to stay like that, might. but you pull back

“what do you think you’re doing?”

percy’s eyes land on your cut lip. “I’m going to kiss it better”

“what!? since when is it okay for you to kiss a girl without permission?”

“since I know the girl secretly likes me”

you gasp. “I do not!”

“try telling that to your journal”

“oh my gods, you creep! why were you reading my journal?”

“I didn’t read it! your sister told me!”

“that little-”

percy places his lips back on yours. this time you give in to it. you so wish you didn’t like this. and you so wish you didn’t love percy jackson. but most of all you so wish he’ll never pull away. between the excruciating pain radiating from your cut and percy’s cold hands under your shirt you think you might die. your head lightens, the only thing you can see with closed eyelids are bright stars. could you be ascending to elysium?

his lips trail down your neck, you’re hands curl into his camp shirt, taking a fistful you pull roughly, percy laughs. “if you want my shirt off so bad you can ask”

“I don’t-” your cut off by percy’s teeth softly digging into your skin. you let out a sound mixed between a gasp and a moan, and he connects your lips back again with a smirk

you take this chance to take his bottom lip between your teeth, biting down until you taste the familiar sensation of blood

“now we’re matching”

[luvv-danielle]

crying bc no one will ever love me like jameson loves avery