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daemonskitty · 3 months ago

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hiya! i had a cute request if you’re interested in writing it. spencer reid x reader where they finished a case and go back to a hotel to sleep and reader goes to spencer’s room (friends with feelings?) asking if she can sleep with him cause they case damaged her mental state. and it’s just cute and cuddly how they figure out how to sleep and such. maybe they can even sleep through the alarm or maybe emily finds reader missing and goes to spencer to ask if he’s seen her only to see the two of them together.

entangled — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: mention of reader having a rough time with a case ( no explicit mention of the details of the case though ) a/n: hiii !! such a cute idea - i love writing sleepy spencer !! hope you like this <3 also lets just pretend emily got into the room with magic cuz i couldnt figure out how she'd get into the room 😭

You hesitated before knocking, your knuckles barely making a sound against the wooden door. You shifted your weight from one foot to the other, tapping your shoe nervously against the carpet.

A few seconds later, the door creaked open, revealing Spencer standing there in a loose t-shirt and sweatpants, his hair slightly tousled from sleep. His hazel eyes softened with confusion.

"Hi," you greeted weakly, offering a tired smile.

"Hi," he echoed, his brows furrowing. "Are you okay?"

You couldn't blame him for asking. After all, it was two in the morning, and you'd shown up unannounced at his hotel room after an exhausting day working on the case. You swallowed hard, suddenly second-guessing yourself.

"I—" You faltered, unable to find the right words. Because no, you weren’t okay. That’s exactly why you were here.

Spencer didn’t wait for you to finish. Instead, he stepped aside, silently inviting you in.

"Come in," he said gently.

You stepped inside, as your gaze drifted across the neatly arranged space—the open book on the nightstand, his clothes folded with meticulous precision on the chair. The sight of such organization brought a small, fleeting smile to your lips.

“What’s wrong?” Spencer’s voice pulled you from your thoughts. He was already sitting on the edge of the bed, his long fingers resting lightly against his knees. He gestured for you to sit beside him, and you did, your knees brushing his as you settled in.

You let out a slow breath. "I just... can't sleep," you admitted, voice barely above a whisper.

Spencer studied you for a moment, and you knew—he knew. He had noticed throughout the day how the case had weighed on you.He had also noticed the way your hands trembled when you thought no one was looking.

“You want to talk about it?” he asked softly, his voice free of pressure, just an open offer.

You shook your head. “Not right now.”

He nodded, understanding as always.

You hesitated before biting your lip, your knee pressing just slightly harder against his. The warmth of the touch sent a thrill through both of you, hearts drumming faster in unison.

“Can I ask you for a favor?” you murmured, your voice unsure, almost timid.

Spencer tilted his head, his expression soft but curious. “Anything.”

Another silence. You exhaled slowly, gathering the courage to say it.

“Can I sleep here? I just don’t want to be alone right now.”

The words felt fragile as they left your lips, almost afraid of being rejected. You kept your gaze down, suddenly fascinated by the wrinkle in the hotel comforter, unwilling to meet his eyes.

Spencer didn’t hesitate. He nudged your knee again, firmer this time, silently coaxing you to look at him. And when you finally did, he was already nodding.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice unwavering. “Of course you can.”

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. Spencer, meanwhile, was doing his best to suppress the way his pulse had kicked up at your request.

He stood up, and instinctively, you did too. Neither of you knew what to do next.

“So, uh… I can just sleep on the floor. That’s no problem,” Spencer offered, scratching the back of his neck.

His voice was uncharacteristically uncertain, and you didn’t miss the way a faint flush crept up his neck, blooming across his cheeks. But then again, who could blame him? The girl he was in love with was standing in his hotel room, asking to stay the night.

“No, no,” you shook your head quickly. “Spence, I didn’t come here to take over your bed and make you sleep on the floor.” You gave him a small smile, hoping it would ease his nerves—yours too. “I just… I don’t want to be alone.”

Your voice was softer this time, more vulnerable, and as you said it, your gaze drifted toward the bed.

And that’s when it really hit you—what you were asking for. To sleep in the same bed as Spencer. The same Spencer you had been in love with for what felt like forever.

Your stomach twisted, equal parts nervous and thrilled.

“Oh—oh, yeah. Right,” Spencer stammered, nodding rapidly. His hands twitched at his sides, like he didn’t know what to do with them. “I-I mean, so we can—uh—yeah, that makes sense.” His words tripped over each other, and you swore he somehow got even redder.

You bit your lip to hide your smile, but a quiet chuckle still slipped out. It was strangely endearing—seeing the usually composed, genius-level profiler completely unravel just at the thought of sharing a bed with you.

Trying to keep yourself from overthinking, you stepped toward the bed, moving to the left side.

You pushed back the covers, feeling Spencer’s eyes on you the entire time. He hadn’t moved yet, just stood there, frozen, like his brain was short-circuiting.

“Spencer?” You turned to face him, raising an eyebrow.

“Hm?” He blinked rapidly, snapping out of his daze.

“You getting in, or…?”

“Oh! Yes! Right,” he said quickly before practically tripping over his own feet to join you. The bed dipped slightly under his weight.

“I hope it’s okay if I keep a small light on,” he hesitated, his voice softer now. “But if you’d rather have it off, I can—”

You turned your head toward him before he could finish, smiling at the way he was so concerned about your comfort. “It’s fine,” you assured him. “I actually think I’d prefer a light right now.”

Spencer let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, nodding slightly. “Okay.”

He glanced at you, just for a second, before quickly looking away again. The warmth on his neck deepened, the blush creeping to his ears now. He reached over and switched off the harsh overhead light, leaving only the soft glow of the bedside lamp.

You shifted slightly, turning your head toward him, and Spencer, still lying on his back, hesitated before tilting his head just enough to meet your eyes.

“I’m sorry if I’m intruding,” you murmured, voice small, genuine.

His brows pulled together slightly as he found the courage to fully turn onto his side, facing you completely.

“You’re never intruding,” he said, and the certainty in his voice made your stomach flip.

His eyes traced the way you absentmindedly brushed a strand of hair away from your face. The small, simple movement felt oddly intimate, and before he could even think about it, his own hand twitched as if he wanted to do the same.

Instead, he clenched his fingers into the sheets, trying to steady his heartbeat.

You swallowed, suddenly hyper-aware of how close you were. Close enough to see the way his eyelashes flickered against his cheeks, close enough to count the freckles on his nose, close enough that if you moved even slightly forward, you—

You pushed the thought away.

“It was a rough case,” you suddenly mumbled, your voice barely above a whisper.

Spencer's hazel eyes scanned your face with concern. Even in the dim light, you could see the way his brows furrowed, the way his lips parted slightly like he wanted to say something but was carefully choosing his words.

“Yes, it was,” he agreed, his voice soft but laced with worry.

A beat of silence passed before he spoke again, this time more certain.

“I hope you know that you did a great job,” he said, his words gentle. A small, nervous smile flickered on his lips.

You bit your lip, your chest tightening at his reassurance.

“Thank you, Spence,” you whispered, letting your eyes meet his.

And before you could overthink it, you reached for his hand, giving it a small squeeze.

Spencer froze for half a second, his breath catching in his throat. The warmth of your fingers against his sent a shiver up his spine.

And maybe it was the way your fingers lingered a little longer than necessary, or maybe it was the way you kept biting your lip—something he had long since learned you did when you were nervous—but suddenly, Spencer found himself feeling just a little bit braver.

So when you started to pull your hand back, instinctively retreating, he didn’t let go.

Instead, he gently tightened his grip, his fingers threading through yours, locking them together like they were always meant to fit this way.

Your breath hitched, eyes flickering up to meet his again.

“I’m glad you came here,” he whispered, his fingers tracing over your hand in slow, delicate patterns. His gaze flickered downward, watching the way your fingers remained tangled together.

“Me too,” you admitted, your voice just as soft.

You hadn’t even realized you had scooted closer—not until the space between you was barely there.

But then Spencer moved.

With a shy kind of confidence, he turned onto his back and gently pulled you toward him.Your head landed against his chest, and for a split second, your breath stalled.

But then you relaxed.

The warmth of him seeped into you. His heartbeat thrummed beneath your cheek. And even as you adjusted, your fingers never let go of each other.

Spencer swallowed hard, doing his best to seem normal, like his heart wasn’t practically slamming against his ribs at the fact that you were here, curled up against him, trusting him enough to be this close.

His free hand hovered for a moment, uncertain, before he slowly—hesitantly—let it settle at your back.

“You’re warm,” you mumbled sleepily, your voice slightly muffled against his shirt.

Spencer let out a small, breathy chuckle. “So are you.”

You tilted your head just slightly, peering up at him. “Is this okay?”

Spencer looked down at you, his expression softer than you’d ever seen it. “Yeah,” he murmured, like there was never a doubt. “This is more than okay.”

A small smile tugged at your lips as you settled back down, letting your eyes flutter shut. Spencer’s grip on your hand tightened just slightly.

Both of you ended up falling asleep smiling. And maybe it was because, for the first time in a long time, neither of you felt the weight of loneliness pressing down.

Either way, neither of you stirred when Spencer’s alarm went off the next morning.

The alarm buzzed faintly before silencing itself, unnoticed by either of you—too wrapped up in sleep and in each other.

At some point in the night, you had shifted, your body now draped over Spencer’s, your face tucked against his neck. His arm was wound securely around your waist, holding you close as if even in sleep, he couldn’t bear to let you go.

Neither of you heard the knocking.

When Emily hadn’t been able to find you anywhere else, she had hoped—guessed—that you might be with Spencer. Maybe going over case notes, maybe just talking. But when she knocked again and got no response, her brows furrowed.

“Reid?” she called, twisting the handle.

The moment she stepped inside, she froze.

Her eyes landed on the sight before her—Spencer, tangled up with you in bed, your body curled against his like you belonged there, his arm tight around you, his face buried somewhere in your hair.

Emily blinked. Then blinked again.

A slow smirk spread across her face.

“Well,” she murmured to herself. “Would you look at that.”

Not wanting to wake either of you (and also definitely wanting to use this as future blackmail), she carefully backed out of the room, closing the door behind her with a quiet click.

As she walked down the hall, she pulled out her phone.

Emily: Guess who I just found cuddled up in bed like a couple of love-struck teenagers?

A second later, her phone buzzed.

JJ: NO. WAY.

Derek: Finally.

With a satisfied grin, Emily slipped her phone back into her pocket.

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