floraisunwell - Tumblr blog

floraisunwell · 1 month ago

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saving this for next month's comforting session btw

spencer comforting you on your period

In which your dinner plans with your boyfriend spencer get ruined by your period, but he comforts you that any time spent with you is worth it. genre fluff x comfort cw moody and emotional reader, mention of eating habits during period, reader feeling blegh and insecure, mention of blood stain, spencer being a sweet and understanding bf, sappy and domestic wc 2,3k

Today was not your day.

You had known from the minute you woke up. It was a feeling you couldn’t quite place, but every bone in your body screamed at you to roll back around in the sheets. And so you did.

The universe had blessed this feeling to occur on a free Sunday. You would’ve loved to be productive, to clean the windows — a task you didn’t do often enough because life gets in the way — to meal prep your favorite lunch for the upcoming week, or to answer some emails to give yourself a head start on work.

But none of that happened.

You put your phone back on the nightstand, and sleep pulled you under for another two hours. When you woke up, you scrolled through some TikToks — ignoring Spencer’s voice that echoed in your mind, telling you how doom scrolling influences your mood and shortens your attention span drastically. Basically telling you that your actions will turn you into some brainless zombie.

Not feeling that hungry yet, you pulled your pillow over your face and drifted off again.

When you woke up for the third time that day, there was a brief moment where you thought that you did, in fact, turn into a zombie. The ones that appeared in The Walking Dead and were overcome by one emotion: hunger. Due to a lack of humans or brains in your fridge, you settled on a frozen pizza. Your appetite was stilled, but now your mind seemed to process the load of other emotions you were feeling. After a cry sesh (that you would not admit to Spencer was caused by watching videos of rescued puppies on TikTok), you found your way back to bed — again.

It was 5PM when you smiled for the first time that day, hearing your melodic ringtone accompanied by the name Spence ♡ on your phone screen.

Swiping your finger, you opened the call. The engine of the jet roared in the background, together with some muffled talking and a repeated shushing that could be no other than your boyfriend.

“Hey, Spence,” you start the conversation, a giddy smile on your face.

“Hi!” he chirped happily, then cleared his throat. “Can you hear me? I’m on the jet.”

“Hearing you loud and clear, Doctor.”

You knew that if you were with him right now, you’d catch the faint blush blossoming on his cheeks.

“I have good news,” he announced after a moment.

You sit up on the bed, pressing the phone closer to your ear. Spencer was away with his team to catch an unsub that had escaped prison by digging a tunnel in the ground that went on for miles. You remember when Spencer had told you about the case a month ago — how you clung on to every word, while holding his hand in your sweaty palm as your heartbeat raced, knowing your boyfriend was to face this dangerous and meticulous psychopath.

“You finally got him?”

He beamed. “We got him, sweetheart.”

Spencer walked you through the last couple of days, and yes, while it was clear that the team worked well together, they never would’ve found the unsub in time if it wasn’t for Spencer. His insights hadn’t only been brilliant, something that was to be expected from him, but genius.

Spending most of your days without having him at home was tough, but all those frustrations always vanished whenever he told you stories like these. Your heart swelled with pride, and if you could kiss him through the phone, you would.

“I thought we could celebrate tonight,” he said. “I’m landing in two hours. We could go to that fancy new Thai place downtown.”

“I don’t want to be a bother,” you murmured. You adored his colleagues, but sometimes you couldn’t help but feel out of place during their intense and detailed FBI talks — ones you had no clue what to contribute to.

“You won't be. It’s just the two of us.”

Your heart did a leap, and you bit back a smile, even though there was no one to hide it from in the solitude of your room.

“Okay,” you smiled, trying to keep your voice neutral and not show how pleased you were that it would just be the two of you.

“Hey pretty girl, not feeling in the mood for me today?”

Damn profilers.

“Hi, Derek,” you chuckle. “No offense to you, I just missed my very handsome and very smart boyfriend.”

Derek scoffed at the other side of the line. “You’re feeding his ego too much.”

“Oh, he deserves it. You know that,” you remind him. “I bet you haven’t complimented him yet, have you?”

As clearly as you could picture Spencer’s amused smirk, you saw Derek’s signature eye roll in the back of your mind.

“You heard that?” Spencer asked after some muffled exchanges of words in the background.

You responded with a proud mhm.

“Will you be ready when I pick you up?’

You nodded. “Count on it.”

♡

Well, that was a lie. Not a little, white one, but a big, fat lie.

Two hours seemed like a plentiful time. There were days where you had gotten ready in twenty minutes. So the first hour you spent — you’ve guessed it — doom scrolling on your phone.

Getting out of your bed an hour later was harder than expected. Your happy mood had tumbled down the second Spencer had hung up the call, and it seemed like it had created a snowball effect where everything went wrong after the other.

Starting out with a pimple on your face that you had sworn wasn’t there when you looked into the mirror yesterday. Trying to keep a positive mindset, you opened your makeup drawer. Things seemed to be looking up as you covered your face in powders, and you were almost done with applying all your products, when your arm made a sudden movement. Your eyeliner has created a sleek wing on your face instead of on your eyelid. And to make matters worse, you jumped up in panic, making you drop the liner so that the black tip fell down your elegant, ruby-colored top, marking a line you wished was washable.

“Shit, shit, shit!”

Any logical-thinking person in your situation would’ve calmly made their way over to the sink and wiped the spot clean. You, however, were too wrapped up in panic to think straight, and instead yanked the top off your body and sprinted toward the closet.

Opening the closet doors, you came to the realization that your side looked tragically empty. You had done a big cleanup when moving in with Spencer, giving away lots of items in the hopes of a fresh start. It was the plan to go on a shopping spree, but because of the lack of dates you and Spencer had — blaming his demanding job — you were now faced with only one option left: a deep sapphire dress.

It is Spencer’s favorite. His eyes always doubled in size, and his adam’s apple would bob whenever he saw the smooth fabric hugging your curves. The dress made you feel confident — sexy, even. So you didn’t expect to feel the complete opposite when you looked in the mirror.

The dress clung to you in all the wrong places. It did not give the wow factor it usually gives; instead, you were overcome with insecurities, even noticing flaws you had never picked up on before.

Your throat tightened, and you tried to swallow the lump away. Tried to blink the building tears away. But to no success. Rather dramatically you lowered yourself to the ground with a defeated sigh, leaning against the mattress of your bed and wrapping your arms around your knees.

Today was not your day. It was too much. And you felt incredibly stupid for feeling that way. Your boyfriend had spent restless nights — plural — cracking his mind over a case, only being fed on caffeine. Saving lives. Making a change. And now he’s on his way to take you out to dinner. And what were you doing? Crying away your messed-up makeup and not being on time. Not even achieving the one single thing your boyfriend had asked of you.

Punctual as always, the front door of the apartment opened with a creak.

“Are you ready, baby?” Spencer’s voice called from the living room. “Restaurants usually get busiest around seven. They have a special this week, so if we want to get the window seat I know you will like, we have two more minutes to leave. One and a half if you’ll be wearing heels.”

His words only made you cry harder. When he entered the room — wearing a nice button-up he must’ve packed just in case there’d be something to celebrate — his puppy dog eyes landed on you, frowning at your figure.

“I’m sorry,” you choked out, not even daring to face him.

“Hey,” he softly cooed, walking up to you and crouching to be at eye level. “Are you hurt? What happened?”

“I’m not ready,” you sniffled. “I look like a mess. I am a mess.”

Spencer brushes your hair out of your face, his warm palms gently cupping both cheeks as he makes you look up at him. “You’re not a mess. That’s nothing we can’t fix in a couple of minutes,” he encourages as he uses his thumb to swipe away the eyeliner stain on your cheek.

“We don’t have a couple of minutes. The window seat will be taken.”

“We’ll figure something out, angel,” he reassured, before a silly grin formed on his face. “I can do some flashing around with my badge, hm? That will work.”

A breathy chuckle escaped your throat, the corners of your mouth lifting slightly. You gathered the courage to meet his gaze. You were no profiler, but his soft eyes told you everything: that he didn’t mind, that it was okay.

“I’m sorry,” you repeated in apology, your voice calmer now. “This was supposed to be your day, and I ruined it.”

Spencer wrapped an arm around you, hugging you to his chest and pressing a kiss on top of your head. “There’s nothing to be sorry for. I know your period can be much.”

Period.

Of course.

How is it that the same occurrence happens every month for most of your life, and still it manages to surprise you each time? Like puzzle pieces clicking together, you mentally retrace the events of today, the world slowly making sense again.

You let out a frustrated groan. “How did you figure that out before me?”

“You are two days early, so it doesn’t match the cycle I’ve been tracking. It makes sense that you didn’t catch on right away.” He was quiet for a moment, wanting to bring his next words as carefully as possible. “But the bloodstain on your thigh made things pretty clear.”

You couldn’t even process your surprise of Spencer casually confessing to tracking your cycle, as the last words left his mouth. Looking down at your lap, there indeed was a crimson-colored spot on your thigh. And on your dress. Oh no.

Noting your anxiety before you could react, Spencer reached out to lock your wrists in his hands.

“Don’t panic,” he tutted. “I’ll put the dress in the washing machine, and you can focus on taking a warm shower and think about what food we can order.”

“But the restau—“

He tsked, catching you off guard. “Shower,” he repeated in one word, so as not to trigger any new thoughts in your mind. Just one word. One mission. Shower.

♡

In the time you and Spencer had been dating, he’s never been wrong. And the steaming shower he suggested was, in fact, exactly what you needed.

Dressed in a cozy pajama set, you made your way back to the bedroom. Spencer had changed too, dressed accordingly in a matching set as he lay on the bed, long legs crossed over each other, and an old-school paper menu held between his fingers.

Quietly you crawled into bed beside him, the mattress dipping beneath your weight as you snuggled up to Spencer’s side, humming as he had warmed the spot.

You glanced over his shoulder at the menu. “That one,” you said, pointing at your go-to dish.

Spencer hummed in approval. “Excellent choice, m’lady.”

“Ooh, new nickname,” you teased, running your fingers through his soft curls.

“It’s on theme, actually,” he grinned. “Because today we’ll be watching…” With a groan he leaned over the bed, hands reaching out and coming back up with three DvDs in hand.

“Medieval movies…” you finished the sentence, trying to sound cheerful, but it came out as more of a question.

Spencer didn’t catch on to the confusion that laced your tone; instead, he eagerly asked you which movie you preferred.

“I don’t mind, Spence. It’s your big day,” you answered genuinely.

He asked you once more if you were sure, but when you confirmed — and he was allowed to choose a movie — he was overcome with a giddy excitement that made your heart flutter.

You truly didn’t know how you got so lucky. To be with a person that never raised his voice at you, who never judged you, who always took all of your feelings like they mattered. Because to him, they did. To him, you mattered. And as long as he could spend his time with you, he didn’t care when or where.

He looked up at you, noticing you as you were staring at him, like he was the most beautiful thing you’ve ever laid your eyes upon.

“I’m so lucky you’re mine,” you whispered in adoration.

He leaned forward, cheeks heating as he pressed a small kiss to your lips. “Derek was right; you really feed my ego too much.”

“Maybe,” you agreed with a smirk. “But you better get used to it.”

#lover🍣#flora's fic recs 𖡎 #during my period #i'll be keeping this fic on me like a glock #spencer reid fluff

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floraisunwell · 1 month ago

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Brushstrokes — S.R.

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💐 - fluff

spencer finds peace watching you pursue your passions (artist!reader)

cw; fem!reader, established relationship, kinda clingy spencer, not proofread

an; i promise im getting to the requests 🙏 i have stuff written for them but i just wanted to write something quick and cute to refresh my brain. i really enjoyed writing this one, so lmk if you wanna see more!

————————————————————————

Your apartment was one of Spencer's favorite places to be. It always smelled something of coffee and the warm scented candles you had a habit of buying, and it was decorated exactly how he'd imagine your mind.

He loved how, in the mornings, the sun shone through the window above your bed and let its rays fall perfectly on your desk, as if to highlight whatever project you were working on. Like it knew how beautiful it was – how beautiful you were as you projected your heart into your work.

Spencer had just gotten home from a rough case the previous night, so, of course, you let him stay with you. You didn't mind as he slept through a portion of the day. You knew he needed it.

He finally began to stir when the clock was due to hit 1:00pm. His messy and tangled hair falling over his closed eyes as he tried to reach for you, but soon realized you were nowhere to be found. With this realization came the initial panic, but he soon calmed as he heard music coming from the other room.

Given a few moments, your bedroom door creaked as he left the room. His clothes hung loosely from his body and he hadn't even bothered to put his glasses back on like he usually would after he woke up.

Spencer spotted you quickly, sat at the table with an array of colors and papers and brushes gathered around you. You also hadn't bothered changing into real clothes, evidenced by the paint-stained shirt he had seen you wearing last night.

You turned to him as he sat next to you, a soft smile spreading on your face as you saw his tired expression.

"Hi," you said. "Feeling better?"

"I was never feeling bad," Spencer responded, wrapping his arms around your waist as he let his head fall onto your shoulder.

You leaned your head into his. "But you didn't have a good day."

Spencer only hummed in response, pressing a soft, gentle, and sleepy kiss to the skin of your jaw. He didn't feel like arguing, especially knowing you were right. He just didn't know you meant it like that.

His gaze followed the stroke of your brush as you got back to work, painting on the petals of the flowers he had gotten you on your anniversary. He loved the way you captured their softness and the life within them.

You let him rest on you. This was something that happened often – maybe not exactly this, but Spencer sitting with you in comfortable silence as you painted. The same way you'd sit with him as he did paperwork or when you would read together, him waiting for you to catch up on the page before he flipped it. You worried that it annoyed him since he read so fast and you didn't, but it never did.

His fingers toyed with the stitching of your shirt, running along it as he closed his weary eyes again. He could imagine what you were doing. He didn't need to see it happen. He could feel it in the way he felt your arm move. The image of the flowers sitting on the table in front of you ingrained into his mind. It was a bit of a game to him to see how accurate he was in his guess of where you were in your art.

"Are you hungry?" You asked, breaking the silence after a few more moments.

Spencer thought about it for a moment before shaking his head softly. "No, not really."

"I have some coffee if you want some," you said. "It's on the table right there."

He lifted his head from your shoulder, straightening himself out a little bit before he reached for the mug. He sighed softly as the warm liquid hit his mouth. You took your coffee the same way he did, although he knew you could drink it any way. Sometimes, he wondered if you made it differently when you were with him, knowing how he liked it best so he'd like it the same (if not more, since you made it) when he took a sip.

"I really like that," he said, nodding towards your painting. "It's pretty."

"They're pretty," you responded.

"Did you start it today?" He asked.

"I sketched it out last night, but I started painting it this morning."

Again, Spencer hummed. Silence took over once more as he leaned back against you.

"I love you," he spoke softly after another few moments.

"I love you too, Spence." You smiled.

It took another hour or so for the painting to be finished, but Spencer didn't mind and neither did you. When it dried, you signed your name and made Spencer sign his with a little heart and the date. That was another thing you did sometimes. You painted and drew things he gave you fairly often, flowers being the most common, and for those ones you always had Spencer write his name with yours. It made him happy to feel included, even if he didn't take part in the actual creation of the art.

#flora's fic recs 𖡎 #artist!reader #yayay this is so cuteeee

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floraisunwell · 1 month ago

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THE Spencer Reid edit

please give the original creator (on tik tok) some love cause this needs more likes on there. Their user is sofiaz.editz

#editss #spencer reid edit

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floraisunwell · 1 month ago

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the ink on your skin - s.r

♡ spencer is obsessed with his girlfriend's tattoos pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader wc: 1.1k

Spencer Reid had a thing for tattoos. Specifically his girlfriend's. One of his favorite pastimes was tracing them with his finger. Exactly what he was doing now.

He laid in bed, the early morning light peeking through the cracks in the blinds, painting the mattress in golden stripes. His deft fingertips traced the black ink decorating your skin. He followed the lines, recreating the intricate pattern with his touch.

"What are you doing?" Came a sleepy mumble from beside him. He looked up from your back, glancing towards where your face was buried into the plush pillow, arms curled underneath it. Your eyes were still closed but your face was turned towards him.

"Nothing. Sorry. Did I wake you?"

"No." You hummed, snuggling closer. "I dreamt about you."

"Really?" He asked, his fingers skimming down to the side of your thigh where another tattoo laid. He gently began tracing it. You weren't even sure if he knew he was doing it.

"Mhm. We were just walking around the city. Running errands and stuff. It was pretty domestic actually."

"That sounds nice." Spencer murmurs.

"It was." You both fell into a peaceful silence, your eyes still closed while Spencer traced over your ink from memory.

You dropped the clasp again, huffing in annoyance. Why is it so hard to put on a necklace? You didn't want to go without it though, it really accented the dress you were wearing. Backless with a deep V in the front, hugging your curves nicely. You tried again to clasp the necklace behind your neck, internally cheering when you succeeded.

"Hey, are you ready?" Spencer asked, walking into the room, adjusting his tie. He froze when he saw you, barely keeping his jaw from dropping to the floor. "Wow, you look... amazing."

"Thank you. You look awfully handsome yourself."

"Is, um, is that a new necklace?" He asked, unable to stop his eyes from dropping to your cleavage.

"It is. I got it when I went shopping with Penelope last weekend." You said, stepping closer to him. His hand instinctively moved to your waist, the other moving to the necklace. He fiddles with the charm, a small silver S.

"S?" He asked, looking into your eyes.

"For Spencer." You grinned up at him as his knuckles brushed your chest. He blushed, glancing back at the necklace. His eyes caught on something else though, the tattoo trailing down your cleavage into the hem of your dress. His fingers leave the small charm to brush over the ink. He traces the design forming a vine as it descends down your chest, watching his own finger skim along your soft skin.

"Spence?"

"Hmm?" He asks, snapping out of his trance.

"Are you ready to go?" You asked in a soft, teasing voice.

"Mhm." His eyes finally lift from your chest to look into your entrancing eyes.

"C'mon babe. We're gonna be late to our reservation." Spencer trails behind you his eyes caught on the way your hips sway. It was gonna be a long night.

The case was rough. Weeks of work and the victim barely made it out alive. Now that the BAU was back on the jet, they all stayed pretty quiet, sitting with the after effects of the case. You sat across from Spencer, headphones in, music nearly blasting in your ears to drown out the memories of the case. Spencer sat with his back to the kitchenette, nose deep in his notebook, drawing something. Derek got up for the third time, getting another coffee for himself. He headed to the kitchenette, refilling his cup. When he turned to go back to his seat, he noticed something. He stepped closer to the back of Spencer's seat, peeking over his shoulder.

"What is that?" He asks, making the genius turn around.

"Wha- none of your business!" He says, pressing the notebook to his chest to hide it from view.

"Nah, that looked familiar. Lemme see." He reaches for the notebook but Spencer jerks back.

"No! It's- it's nothing." His face is bright red by now. He glances across the table to see you looking up, pulling an earbud from your ear to tune into the conversation. Derek uses this distraction to snatch the notebook from Spencer's hand. "Morgan-"

"Hang on, is this... is this what I think it is?" Derek grins teasingly.

"No." Spencer defends pathetically.

"It is. You're doodling your girlfriend's tattoos."

"Just- give it back." He yanks the notebook back, tucking it to his chest again.

"You are?" You asked, taking your other earbud out.

"Maybe..." Spencer blushes more, if that's even possible.

"Which one? Show me." You said. The flustered man across from you slowly hands you the notebook. You look down at the drawing your eyes widening slightly at the detail. "Wow. This is good."

"Thanks." Spencer rubs the back of his neck and Derek ruffles his hair, smirking as he heads back to his seat. "You're not mad?"

"Why would I be mad? This is amazing. You should draw my next tattoo." You said offhandedly, sliding his notebook back across the table to him. You moved to put your earbuds back in but stopped when he spoke again.

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"I can draw something... if you want."

"That'd be awesome, Spence." He smiled to himself, burying himself back into his notebook.

It had to be perfect. He wouldn't accept anything other than perfect being put on your body permanently. Since you told him he could design a tattoo for you, he hasn't stopped thinking about it. He's been brainstorming and sketching but nothing has felt right. He crumbled up and threw away yet another sheet of paper containing a design that was still not good enough.

"It doesn't have to be perfect, Spence. I'll love anything you draw. Promise." He shakes his head.

"You don't know that." He muttered, shifting to get more comfortable. He was sitting in the dining room chair at your apartment where he had been for almost the last hour. You sat down next to him, taking his hand.

"Honey, it's not that big of a deal." You reassured him, smiling slightly, amused at his determination.

"It is a big deal! This will be on your body forever!"

"If you're this stressed about it, you don't have to do it."

"Do you not want me to?" He tilted his head, his brown puppy dog eyes boring into yours.

"Of course I want you to. It'd be great to have a little piece of you everywhere I go."

"Wait... I have an idea." Spencer says, grabbing his pencil and starting to quickly sketch. He's done in a few moments, sliding the notebook over to you.

"Is that...?" You smiled, looking down at the sketch.

"It's the day we met. And that's a carnation. Your favorite, right?"

"Yeah. It's perfect." You lean forward, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, his winding around your waist. "It's perfect." You murmur again, this time into his neck. His arms tighten around you, smiling at the promise of permanent ink on your body, tying you together. Forever.

#flora's fic recs 𖡎 #cuties #spencer doodling his gf's tattoos grrrr

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floraisunwell · 1 month ago

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tying my heart in knots - s.r

♡ spencer teaches you how to tie a tie in a rather intimate way. pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader wc: 0.6k

Cross over. Under and around. Cross over again. Loop and tighten. Simple right?

"I can't believe you still don't know how to tie a tie." Spencer snorts. "How old are you again?" He's sitting on your bed cross legged, fiddling with the fraying edges of your blanket while he watches you fail yet again at knotting your tie.

"Shut up! It's hard, alright?"

"Haven't you worn ties before?"

"Yeah, but you've always tied them for me." You glance back at him with a grin.

"I thought I was being romantic, I didn't know it was because you didn't know how." He said through giggles.

In the past, whenever you needed to wear a tie, Spencer had always stepped up, pulling you closer by your waist and tying it for you. He was always doing little things like that, making life easier. He'd bring an extra coffee to you so you didn't have to get up. He'd make sure the water in the shower was warm before you went in there. He'd wipe your makeup off your face when you were too tired to do so after a long day. Little things that you don't normally think about but he wants to make better for you.

"Well, you're not being romantic at all right now." You grumbled, your fingers fumbling over the fabric of the knotted tie, attempting to get the screwed up knot out.

"I'm sorry, angel. Here, let me teach you." Spencer gets up from the bed, walking over to where you stood in front of the mirror. You turn to face him, dropping your hands so he can grab the tie. "You cross this end over the other, then bring it under and around and cross it over again. Then you loop it through here, and... you're done." He tightens it up to your collar.

"Wait... what?" You ask, dumbfounded. Spencer chuckles, undoing your tie with ease.

"Okay, just watch closely." He does the steps again, explaining them slowly. Maybe it's the angle you're at or maybe it's because you can't stop staring at the man in front of you, but you don't give an ounce of attention to the tie. His hands, his eyes, his jawline, god his jawline. You swear it could cut glass. You feel sorry for all the girls who missed out on the chance at being with the absolute hunk in front of you now. It's a wonder how anyone could pass him up. "Do you get it now?" Spencer asks, pulling you out of your daze and when you look down, your tie is tied again.

"Hmm?" You hummed, looking up into his dreamy brown eyes.

"Were you even paying attention?" He giggles, the sound sending a pang straight into your heart.

"You know, I think it's my perspective. When you're doing it, it's like... inverted." You defended yourself lamely.

"Inverted, huh?"

"Mhm." He thought for a second before moving behind you, turning you to face the mirror. His hands came up to undo the tie once again.

"Let's try this. And pay attention this time." He chided with a grin and pinched your side, making you squirm. He ties the tie slowly and, though it's hard with his soft breathing on your neck and the heat of his body on your back, you pay attention.

"Okay. You try." He says once he's finished. You untie the tie one more time and go through his instructions. Cross over. Under and around. Cross over again. Loop and tighten.

"I did it!" You turn around, grinning at Spencer. He smiles right back.

"See? Not so hard, right?"

"Well, I had the best teacher." You stepped closer, wrapping your arms around his middle, chin resting on his chest.

"And I have the best girlfriend." He smiles, kissing you chastely.

#flora's fic recs 𖡎 #spencer reid fluff #saur cute

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floraisunwell · 1 month ago

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hi informing u that i work part time as the easter bunny pls leave some carrots by the fireplace and maybe ill bring u a nice present tomorrow 🎁 (and don’t lock the door) (and tell me the code to the safe but don’t ask why)

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floraisunwell · 1 month ago

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cutesy little thing, ty for the tag @esote-rika

npt: @angellic4l @ihatethecrowdsyouknowthat @minorlyatfault

This was so cute omg. Thank you for the tag @mariasont 🩷

No pressure tags: @floraisunwell @mggslover @oceanbaes @reidingandallthat @darkmatilda

#tag game #cuteeeeee #flora rants ✿#erika✨

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floraisunwell · 1 month ago

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everyone say thank you @dearlenore !!!

#mari.ᐟ #lmfao

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floraisunwell · 1 month ago

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“I think I’ll start learning Portuguese.”

You’re half-asleep, but you hear him.

“Why?” you murmur, curling closer.

“So I can talk to you in your first language. The way you dream.”

pov you show up to best boyfriend competition but spencer is already there

TE AMO MEANS I LOVE YOU. / S.REID / SUMMARY - Spencer doesn’t want you to feel homesick…

PAIRING: brazilian!reader x spencer reid / w/c: 1.3k / fluff

a/n: req so fire I don’t have anything to add😭 anon req here

You can barely feel your legs by the time you step through the front door. Everything aches—your back, your feet, your head. The combination of a long shift, missed meals, and a pounding homesickness you didn’t even realize had crept up on you leaves you disoriented and dazed. You drop your bag to the floor with a heavy thud and let your shoes fall off wherever they land.

“Spence?” you call out weakly, unsure if he’s even home.

No response.

Your heart dips. It’s silly—you’re not even mad. You just really wanted to collapse into his arms and let him talk about some obscure historical fact you won’t remember while you bury your face in the scent of his cardigan.

Dragging your feet forward, you turn toward the kitchen, hoping he might’ve left a note or something.

But what you see stops you cold.

It’s not just that Spencer is home—he’s in the living room, kneeling in front of the stereo, surrounded by what must be dozens of vinyl records and CDs. Some still in shrink wrap. Others open, their contents splayed out delicately on the rug, like he’s trying to solve a musical puzzle.

He doesn’t notice you at first. His long fingers are carefully placing one of the records into a sleeve. His lips move silently, probably reading the liner notes. You know that face—the one he makes when he’s concentrating too hard to hear anything around him.

You step closer, confused and stunned. “Spencer… what is all this?”

He finally looks up, startled, and then a wide, bashful smile spreads across his face. “You’re home early.”

You scoff, dropping your keys onto the counter and squinting at the organized chaos on the floor. “No, I’m actually late. I had to cover for Clara because her babysitter bailed. What is all this?”

Spencer stands slowly, brushing invisible lint from his pants. There’s a faint smudge of dust on his nose that makes him look boyish. “I was going to surprise you. I wasn’t finished yet.”

You blink. “With what? An entire music store?”

He chuckles and takes your hand, gently tugging you down to sit with him on the floor. “Do you remember a couple weeks ago, you said you missed home? That nothing here really sounded like Brazil?”

You nod slowly, your throat tightening. It had been an offhand comment, murmured into his chest after a stressful day. You hadn’t even realized he’d taken it to heart.

“Well,” he says, excitement flickering behind his soft eyes, “I did some research. A lot, actually. I talked to a Brazilian record collector online, and I found a store that imports vintage and modern music. Some of it’s digital, but I thought it would be more special to have the real thing. Something you can hold and play and… feel.”

He gestures to the piles. “There’s MPB—Chico Buarque, Gal Costa, Caetano Veloso. Some Bossa Nova—João Gilberto, Elis Regina. A few funk carioca and samba records too. And—oh!—I found a Tropicália collection from the ’60s. It was hard to find, but the guy I talked to helped me out.”

You’re frozen, eyes moving from album cover to album cover, tears threatening to blur everything. He says each name so carefully, stumbling a little over the pronunciations but clearly trying.

“I thought maybe we could build a little library,” he continues, a bit shy now, like he’s not sure he’s done the right thing. “A musical version of home. For you.”

Your lip trembles.

“Oh no,” Spencer says, eyes going wide. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

You launch yourself at him before he can say anything else, arms wrapping tightly around his neck as you press your face into his shoulder.

He immediately holds you back, murmuring, “It’s okay, it’s okay,” even though you’re not crying from sadness.

“I’m not upset,” you whisper, voice thick. “I’m just… I’m so tired. And I missed you. And then I walk in and you’ve done this?”

He chuckles softly into your hair. “You sounded so sad that day. I didn’t know how to fix it. But I thought… maybe music would help.”

You pull back just enough to look at him. “This is the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for me.”

He blushes, his hands settling on your waist. “I wanted you to feel like you belonged. Even when you’re far away from where you came from.”

Your heart stutters.

You’ve always loved how brilliant Spencer is, how his mind never stops moving. But it’s this—his softness, his attentiveness, the way he listens—that makes you fall in love with him again and again.

“I love you,” you whisper.

His smile deepens. “I love you too.”

You glance at the records again, something bubbling up in your chest. “Did you really get funk carioca?”

He grins. “Yes, and I regret it already. Some of those lyrics…”

You burst out laughing. “It’s not all inappropriate, I swear.”

Spencer raises an eyebrow. “Are you sure? Because one of those songs taught me three Portuguese curse words I didn’t know before.”

You fall back against the couch, giggling uncontrollably. “Now you’re culturally enriched.”

“I’m something, that’s for sure.”

He stands and offers you a hand. “Come on. You haven’t even seen the best part.”

You let him pull you up, and he guides you to the little corner of the living room you’d both half-abandoned for months. It had been your reading nook at one point, but life got busy. The chair became a coat rack. The little table sat empty. But now, it’s glowing with soft light from a string of fairy lights. A portable record player sits on the table, already spinning a vinyl softly through the air.

The opening notes of “Águas de Março” float into the room—gentle, warm, familiar.

Your breath catches. “That’s… my dad used to play this when we were cleaning on Sundays.”

Spencer squeezes your hand. “I hoped it would feel like home.”

You sit down in the chair, letting the music wash over you, and for the first time in what feels like weeks, you relax.

Spencer kneels in front of you again, resting his arms on your knees. “Want to teach me the lyrics?”

You glance down at him, grinning. “You want to sing in Portuguese?”

“I want to impress your grandma next time we video call,” he admits sheepishly.

You laugh. “She already thinks you’re a genius.”

“I’d like her to also think I’m charming.”

You hum thoughtfully. “Okay. Repeat after me: ‘É pau, é pedra, é o fim do caminho…’”

He repeats it, tripping over the accent.

You giggle and gently correct him, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. “Better.”

“Again?”

“‘É um resto de toco, é um pouco sozinho…’”

He says it again, a little smoother this time.

You don’t even notice how much time passes. You teach him line by line, each repetition followed by laughter and a kiss, until your cheeks hurt from smiling.

Eventually, you end up sprawled together on the rug, your head on his chest, your hand resting over his heart. The music continues to spin, one record after another, creating a bubble of nostalgia and love and safety around you both.

Spencer’s fingers draw soft patterns on your arm. “Do you think it helps?” he murmurs. “The music?”

You nod against him. “It feels like I’m not so far away. Like my past and my present are holding hands.”

He presses a kiss to your temple. “Then it was worth every penny.”

“You’re too good to me.”

He hums. “I think you underestimate how much I love you.”

You smile, eyes fluttering shut.

No one had ever loved you quite like this before—with thoughtfulness, with quiet gestures, with an understanding that homesickness isn’t always loud or obvious, but it’s there. Like a shadow.

And somehow, Spencer had found the perfect way to bring the sun back.

Later that night, as you fall asleep to the soft hum of Caetano Veloso playing from your new collection, Spencer whispers, “I think I’ll start learning Portuguese.”

You’re half-asleep, but you hear him.

“Why?” you murmur, curling closer.

“So I can talk to you in your first language. The way you dream.”

And you think, just before sleep pulls you under:

This man is my home, too.

#RAHHHHHH #i can hear spencer's horrible accent through the screen #spencer reid x reader #flora's fic recs 𖡎 #also #águas de março mention #thus is so cute bye

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floraisunwell · 1 month ago

Text

Interlude | s.r

who? spencer reid x pianist!reader

summary: Penelope drags Spencer to some fancy gala to cheer on her friend. He expects to be incredibly bored but finds himself extremely captivated by the night's performer.

word count: 1.4k

a/n: me thinking "i should probably get back to playing" ended up with my keyboard still collecting dust and this . enjoy <3

Spencer finds himself at Garcia’s office – doing nothing, like it usually happens, he has finished his share of paperwork and doesn’t really have anything to do.

He’s slowly spinning around in a chair while Penelope talks on the phone, the soft hum of her many machines filling the space like background music. She sounds excited, he notices. Not her usual sunshine demeanor, even more, somehow. He doesn’t mean to eavesdrop, but her animation intrigues him so he stills the spinning to focus on her words.

“I’m so happy for you,” she says, her voice dripping with affection. “Oh this is so amazing”

The other person on the line says something that seems to prompt Penelope to firm her tone.

“No, no, it’s still important. It might open doors for the future.” As she says this, her head is shaking and her brows are lifted like the person on the other end could see.

“Yes, that’s the energy i want,” she adds the smile returning to her face “Oh and can i come?”

Spencer hears something like a chuckle through the phone and then a muffled reply

“Okay, amazing” Penelope says and at that moment she turns just to see Spencer and her face lights up instantly. “I am also bringing someone - some extra support”, she says and Spencer’s features twist in confusion because he knows the someone she is referring to is him.

Another chuckle and muffled reply.

“Shh, stop trying to downplay it” she says tenderly “Everyone starts somewhere. Love you, keep me updated. Byee”

“So where are you taking me?” He asks resigned knowing that arguing is not even on the table.

“We’re going to some fancy gala thing, rich people buying art and classical piano music in the background, my friend is going to be playing. I hope you have a good suit”

— ꕤ—

“You’re taking Reid instead of me?” Morgan exclaims, hand over his heart faking offence “Who will slow dance with you?”

“I don’t think you can slow dance to classical music babe” Penelope fires back

“Well it depends on the piece, if we’re talking Beethoven Symphony No. 5 probably not. But I can imagine something like Clair de Lune or Liebestraum” Spencer says.

Penelope shoots a look at him pretending she’s mad that he just discredited her response.

“It’s a fundraiser, nobody is going to be dancing” she tells them matter of factly

“Whatever,” Morgan beams “enjoy yourselves” he pats Spencer’s shoulder as he walks past.

— ꕤ—

Spencer didn’t actually agree to go, not that he had an option anyway. But two days later he finds himself in a rented suit, fixing his tie and hair on the backseat of a taxi, Garcia beside him with a perpetual smile framing her features.

“Looking good Spence” she says, glancing at him.

“Can’t believe you pressed me into doing this” he mutters

“Correction,” Penelope says holding up her index finger “I didn’t press you to do anything, I politely informed you of our plans for the weekend”

“Right,” Spencer shakes his head “and you also texted me suit options and a tie knot tutorial”

She grins proudly “And don’t you look amazing?”

Before he can respond, the cab pulls up to the venue, – a sprawling building through the windows he can see marble columns, huge chandeliers cast a warm glow that spills to the street and an entry way that suggests everyone inside considers Versace casual.

He eyes the grand glass front doors warily. “So…what exactly is someone supposed to do at an event of this kind?”

“Look put together, sip champagne, and smile” Penelope answers as she steps out of the car and smooths her dress. “Oh and clap, there’s a lot of clapping”

He goes to stand beside her with a sigh “Is this your idea of fun?”

She hooks her arm through his. “I’m here to support my friend, but watching you attempt small talk will be an enjoyable bonus”

He just makes a face which makes her laugh and they walk in.

Inside, everything is almost obnoxiously elegant. The sound of glasses clinking, heels clacking, hushed conversations, forced laughter and soft notes of a piano fill the atmosphere. Penelope scans the room, eyes searching for the source of the music. Once her gaze lands on an elevated platform, she smiles.

A baby grand piano sits on the centre of the stage and seated on its bench is a woman in a long black dress. Her hair tied low on the back of her head, and her eyes are closed as she plays, her head tilted slightly, fingers moving softly and confidently over the keys. It's as if the piano is an extension of her. Spencer is instantly mesmerized.

When the piece ends, the woman opens her eyes and leans forward to reach and turn the sheet music. As she does, her eyes fall on Garcia and him. A smile appears on her lips mirroring Penelope’s expression. Garcia waves, the woman responds with a nod before going back to playing.

Spencer just stares at her, how she seems to be playing with her whole body, how her head lowers at low notes and rises at the higher ones, how she barely glances at the sheet music because she seems to know the notes by heart. Her fingers move in a cascade, fluidly – an arpeggio. Spencer knows how technically demanding they are – the wrist movements, finger gymnastics, the precision, the control – but she plays multiple of them in succession like it’s simple. Effortless. Natural. As if she’s doing something as plain as breathing.

Garcia is as captivated at her friend’s talent, she glances at Spencer after a member of the waitstaff dressed in black and white offers them glasses.

“She’s amazing” Penelope says quietly

“Very impressive yes” Spencer adds never taking his eyes off the pianist

When this piece ends, a man in a sharp emerald green suit steps onto the stage, smiling as she approaches the microphone “Ladies and gentlemen I am incredibly delighted by your presence tonight. The evening has begun on a splendid note, so, before we continue, let’s offer a warm hand to our performer”

The woman rises from the bench smoothly and applause echoes through the hall, she nods in acknowledgement then steps off the stage. She’s not even finished going down the small stairs when a small group approaches and praises her.

“You were divine” a woman with an intricate updo says “Absolutely breathtaking” the woman beside her adds. “I felt that in my soul, it was beautiful” an older man says after taking a sip from his champagne flute.

She thanks them politely with a tight smile and gracefully slips through the sea of tailored suits, and sparkling jewelry until she reaches Spencer and Penelope.

Garcia grins and pulls her into a side hug “Amazing, as always” says Garcia “I had almost forgotten how beautifully you play”

“Ah thank you so much Penny, and thank you for coming” She casts a glance at Spencer and adds “The both of you.”

“I’m sorry she dragged you here” she says with Garcia’s hand still around her.

“It was totally worth it, your performance was gorgeous” He says rushedly “I’m Spencer, nice to meet you” he adds not knowing what to do.

“ Nice to meet you, Penny talks about you and the team a lot” she answers with the smile on her lips never fading.

While the man on the stage goes on with his speech, Garcia and her friend fall into the rhythm of a conversation with Spencer occasionally commenting.

Eventually the man finishes his speech and the woman has to go again.

“That’s my cue,” she says taking the last bite from her tiny sandwich “Don’t go without me” she adds over her shoulder, already walking away.

She steps up the stairs and gives a small nod to the man now leaving the stage, he nods back and goes down leaving the stage for her again. Without missing another moment she resumes playing, just as graceful, just as mesmerizing. Spencer finds himself simply watching again, the rest of the room melting aways with the gentle sounds

“Where does she usually play?” Spencer asks, voice low like he’s afraid of breaking the spell.

Penelope caught off guard, just blinks for a moment “At the little bar at 14th,” she replies then smiles “It’s very your vibe, I think you’ll like it”

“What makes you think I want to go?” he shoots back without missing a beat

She sips her drink, smug. “I know you do,” she says simply. “And because you haven’t blinked in two full minutes.”

He rolls his eyes, but the corner of his mouth twitches, and Penelope considers that a win.

ty for reading!

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer and penelope #mwah <3

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