#Spencer Reid flangst

[dreamsontheirway]

Cardigan | S.R.

Summary: the cold AC in the building causes the reader to have a... bodily response, and Spencer is protective. Warnings: nipples? Word Count: 0.7k

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It was a hot, summer day for Virginia, whose climate often didn’t exceed the high 70s. Today it fell around an unusual 85, and the BAU was clearly not used to it. The AC was turned up to max cool in the office and although it felt nice, you had the occasional shiver spike down your spine.

You had chosen a short sleeve maroon colored top today, and it was on the tighter side. You always felt warmer with additional fabric, so you thought the figure-hugging top would cool you off as opposed to something loose-fitting. It certainly had done its job, but your lack of a jacket or cardigan had resulted in the amplification of a certain feature on your chest.

You had noticed, obviously, and shifted uncomfortably each time you saw them. That’s something women unfortunately are forced to think about. Additionally, not that you had to wear a bra, but you were wearing one, it just happened to be quite thin. Once again, your choice was determined by the temperature outside. You couldn't have guessed that the BAU would choose to have the AC on its fullest blast.

Luckily for you, you worked with professionals. Even if they noticed your compromised situation, it wasn't like anyone was going to say anything. Or even care all too much, for that matter. You decided to let it go, and continue your work. They were just nipples; everyone had them.

Spencer Reid felt differently about the situation. He had first noticed the fact that you were shifting uncomfortably in your seat. Then he noticed the occasional shivers on your bare arms. After that is when he caught sight of the small peaks protruding from your chest as a direct result of the chill air.

Spencer had blushed, despite having seen that area of your body with less clothing on than now. He felt uncomfortable thinking about the intimate moments he shared with you whilst at the workplace. Further, he found himself feeling protective of you, as well as those precious moments. The thought of someone else merely considering these private parts of you left him with a bitter taste in his mouth.

At first, Spencer observed the situation, not wanting to make a scene and embarrass you more than he could assume you already were. He would have lent you something to cover up with, but he too dressed minimally for the weather.

Spencer continued his work, occasionally sneaking a glance at you just to make sure you were still okay. As Spencer looked up once again, he noticed an intern walk through the bullpen. The intern was young; he must have been in his very early twenties. Spencer didn't recognize him and he assumed he must be from a different department.

Spencer blatantly observed the young male practically gawk and drool at your chest as he approached you. He stopped and began chatting with you about something Spencer could not see. The young genius could feel his face heat up with irritation and annoyance.

Spencer was steadily growing irate and he seriously considered giving you the shirt off his own back. Then he remembered -- he had a cardigan in his bottom desk drawer. He had put it in his drawer of miscellaneous items back in the winter. Just in case, he had recalled thinking. He mentally gave his past self kudos for remembering to leave it there.

He quickly unlocked the bottom drawer and snatched the tan, knitted cardigan from its depths and beelined to you.

"Hi darling," Spencer cooed, and draped the cardigan over your shoulders. He took it a step further and pulled either side of the article of clothing across your torso, covering your chest.

You were taken aback. Spencer was typically too shy to use pet names to refer to you, unless it was just the two of you. His assertiveness in covering the exposed part of you filled your body with a familiar warmth.

Spencer stared at the intern, his jaw clenched. The young man got the message and politely said goodbye to you.

You turned around in your rolling chair, evidently unwrapping yourself from Spencer's grasp.

"What," you began, blushing. "What was that?"

Spencer opened and closed his mouth. Now that the adrenaline had worn off, he was bashful.

"I could tell you were uncomfortable earlier with your," he paused, "with your situation, and I just didn't like the way he was looking at you."

You smiled at your boyfriend, appreciating his thoughtfulness. He was right; you had been uncomfortable, and you cherished his ability to notice these intricacies. You pulled the warm cardigan across your chest again, like Spencer had done moments ago.

"Thank you."

"Yeah," Spencer murmured meekly, "anytime."

-----

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[cumulo-stratus]

02- Lover

pairing- Spencer Reid x Male!reader summary- slow burn story of how spencer reid fell in love with Y/n L/n warnings- profanities, some arguing, lemme know if theres anything else! wc- 2k a/n-big big thank you to @avis-writeshq for proof reading this!! And guys I know 2k isn't a lot but it's a lot for me and im rly proud of my self 😚

part 1//part 2

While the interactions y/n and Spencer had started sharing on the train had plagued both men's minds, it had been for very different reasons. If you asked Spencer, he'd be inclined to use words such as enchanting, or describe it as a delightful rush when he thought about it. But if you asked y/n, he might be more likely to use words like conflicting, frustrating, yet electric. Like the rush of doing something bad, while in motion you're given a short, small burst of adrenaline, but once done an equal rush of guilt follows.

 This guilt was egged on by Gina- y/n’s girlfriend. If you asked any of his friends they would say that she’s not good for him. She was about as emotionally mature as a highschooler, to put it lightly. Almost immediately after the couple left their honeymoon phase, Gina became jealous and overbearing. She would yell at him for not texting her back immediately, or accuse him of cheating at least once a week. And many other incidents of the sort. Y/n knew it was toxic and had been telling his friends he would break up with her soon- but somehow never got around to doing it.

Lately their arguments had revolved around the topic of one man- Spencer. Gina felt y/n was spending too much time with him, 'I'm your girlfriend- not him!’, about summed up the argument they’d engaged in the night previously. 

“Well how would you feel if i was hanging out with some guy from the gym all the time, and flirting with him, and sexting him all the time like a whore- wouldn't you feel the same?!”

Gina was absolutely incensed when she found out that her boyfriend traded numbers with the genius, and texted each other regularly. In her mind they were basically having sex, and y/n was basically creating on her.

“Oh don't you dare turn this around on me! we only hang out on the train, it's not like we’re getting dinner together or something! god you need to get a grip…”

The last part was mumbled but Gina still heard it- and was even more incensed by it. And although y/n knew the way he was handling it was a bit childish, but he didnt care- he just so mad in the moment. He was enraged at Gina for not trusting him enough.

“What the fuck y/n?!! You’re such a liar!!”

And so they went on in circles like this for at least an hour. Gina would make an argument consisting of primarily lies and assumptions, and y/n would try to convince her otherwise- fruitlessly of course. Round and round they went, and needless to say y/n slept on the couch that night. And the next morning Spencer noticed y/n massaging his neck every couple of minutes- despite y/n’s attempts to be discreet about the pains in his neck. He didn't want to make a big deal about it, as he had slept on the couch many times before anyways after fights with his girlfriend. 

— 

“You seem chipper-”

Derek observed with a teasing smile when Spencer pushed through the large doors of the BAU, the comment doing nothing to deter the unusually large smile plastered on his face. Said smile grew even slightly more when he felt the vibration of a text against the fabric in the pocket of his pants, knowing it was a text from y/n. He didn't text anyone else much anyways for it not to be him. If anything y/n had taught him how to text. Of course Spencer knew how to type and send a text to someone, but didn't do it unless he had to- he’d rather call them or talk to them in person. That was of course until y/n offered him his number and spencer had to then awkwardly explain that he didn't really text all too much. When he found this out, y/n had taken it upon himself to teach Spencer how to text with him. He called it their texting for dummies lessons. They spent almost a week's worth of commutes doing said lessons.  

“Oh I just had a nice morning that's all.”

Spencer was quick to shrug off the comment, knowing the endless teasing that would ensue if Derek knew the real reason for his extra large smile that morning. 

“or do you mean a nice night? who was it- the librarian, or no no the only other person in the theater watching a 3 hour long sci-fi!”

Derek spoke with a wiggle to his eyebrow and teasing lilt to his voice. Luckily Derek got Spencer's back when Penelope poked her head out the round table room and held up the casefile, announcing a new case. 

“Heads up crime fighters! we got another one!”

Her words caught the attention of the Profilers scattered about the bullpen and drew them towards the briefing room. Spencer rushed to finish pouring the 6th sugar packet into his coffee mug and texted Y/n to let him know he had a case, before shoving his phone into his pocket and half jogging to his seat around the table. 

Y/n knew about Spencer's job, mostly because the first time Spencer wasn’t on the train for a couple days while on a case, y/n freaked. When he got on the train again a couple days later as if nothing had happened- y/n demanded an explanation. And now Spencer texted him whenever he got called on a case- even though he knew y/n wouldn't worry and just assume he was on a case- it was an excuse for them to text more. And Spencer would take any opportunity possible to talk to him.

Later, as the team boarded the jet spencer overheard JJ and Emily practically gossiping about what had happened that morning with derek. spencer just sighed, pulling a worn book from the messenger bag at his hip, and flipping to the doggy eared page. Although he was still slightly distracted by JJ and Emily not so subtly talking about him. 

“you think he’s found someone?”

emily’s giggle reminded spencer of that of a school girl gossiping. Emily leaned towards JJ, eager to hear what she had been told penelope- the ever terrible secret keeper. Not that his recent mood shifts were much of a secret anyways. 

“i mean do you see how much more hes been texting? INstead reading during his lunch break he texts. What- or who could be so intriguing that Spencer Reid chooses it over a book? a crush! thats who.”

JJ and Emily seemed convinced at Emily's argument for Spencer's recent change in behavior. This overheard conversation sparked thoughts about y/n in spencers mind. And spencer agreed silently with emily that y/n was worth not making progress on a book he was reading. As in his opinion talking with y/n was the most entertaining thing he could do.

—

When Spencer returned home from the case in Kentucky, needless to say he was absolutely exhausted. But despite every signal his body was giving him- he decided to stay awake in order to finish the book y/n had recommended to him. That way the two could discuss the novel on their daily commute.

The moment y/n stepped onto the train the next morning, Spencer could tell something was off- and it didnt take a profiler to see something was wrong his hands fidgeted at his sides more than normal, his eyes had large bags under them, and his entire demeanor sagged like the bag on his back was filled with large stones. When y/n crossed the subway car and took his normal seat, Spencer had decided to refrain himself from asking what was wrong- as he didn't want to intrude. Spencer had always been a little awkward- and he knew from experience that asking could make it worse. So he left it alone for now and tried to make conversation about the novel he’d finished the night before. And y/n had actually perked up a bit when they got into an excited debate over two charachters- until his phone buzzed in his pocket again. At first Spencer didn't notice it, and continued rambling about his analysis of the aforementioned book, and the aforementioned characters they had been debating over - Spencer didn't notice until he heard an exasperated sigh leave y/n’s lips. He froze mid sentence, thinking he’d said something wrong- or that he’d rambled too much (as he often did) but then he noticed y/n's gaze was locked onto his phone- which was opened to text messages.

💕GF💕

-lemme guess your still talking to that ‘dr. reid’ AFTER we talked about it last night

-you need to stop hanging out with him- im better for you 

Spencer didn't mean to read it, But he still did- and it hurt. His brows creased and he looked at y/n with a pained look. A lump formed in y/n's throat when he looked over and realized Spencer had read the text from gina- and the text he had already typed out to respond with. it read ‘ you know you shouldn’t make assumptions like that- we barely even talk after the argument we had about it last week.

“You know, you should’ve told me if your girlfriend didn't want us hanging out- i dont wanna ruin your relationship..”

Spencer's voice was a bit strained and you could hear the hurt in it. y/n rushed to apologize but Spencer didn't want to hear it. 

“spencer i'm sorry- its just- just gina gets a little insecure sometimes and we argued about it last night- She just gets jealous a lot-”

Y/n's rambled half apology, half explanation did nothing to ward off the hurt Spencer was experiencing, or to slow down his thoughts, which were jumping to conclusions faster than Spencer could read. And before he spoke he had to swallow the lump that had formed in his throat and blink away the burning of tears behind his eyelids, threatening to spill.

“So gina never wanted us to hang out?! you should’ve told me y/n- i'm not gonna intrude on your relationship.”

While the pair argued, y/n could hear the previous night's argument with his girlfriend ringing the back of his mind. Gina yelling about him being a pathological cheater, and her having to put up with it. Gina often played the victim in any and all situations where she was at fault. Because deflecting was often much easier than dealing with her own issues. 

Despite the fact that the pair was in a heated argument, the pair spoke in hushed tones as to not attract more attention than the already prying eyes of the quite crowded train car. Y/n was shocked- he could believe Spencer would say something like that- and in the heat of the moment he didn’t notice the tears lining Spencer's waterline- or in fact the tears that lined his own. After a moments silence, the train conveniently halted to a stop at spencers station- and wasted no time in hastily pulling his messenger bag that only a little while ago had been used to save a seat for y/n, over his shoulders with a huff and all but stomped out of the train car. And as the doors to the train car closed shut with a satisfy shhhk behind him, Spencer pulled the corner of his unbuttoned cardigan up to his face and wiped his slightly red eyes of their tears, feeling trickles of guilt now snaking their way into the pit of his stomach for what he said to the man he held so dear.

TO BE CONTINUED...

[spncvr]

hi! i love your writing!! wanted to ask if i could request a small blurb or sth of reader and spencer waking up in the morning?? really cute and fluffy hahah... take your time! :DD

mornings | s.reid

summary: waking up with spencer

pairing: spencer reid x reader

warnings: um it's not smut ?? as in not, "he trhusted into her and growled when she called him daddy"-smut. but. like. u can tell they fucked. i think. kissing and my bad english ANYWAYS

a/n: hi pookie sprry it took me forever to answer this,, i spent the entire day soing math today this is my break. so its not that great pls bear w me crying emoji

masterlist

THE SUN ROSE behind the leaves that hung lazily on the branches. Through the voile curtains, tendrils of the sun rays bled against your skin, that brushed against his. The voile, no longer as pure and lush as it once was, twists and turns against the wind like a dance. The low hum of the city’s heartbeat echoes around the room in a chaotic symphony—and within the room was calm. You smile because for once, he was not somehow tied within this chaos.

Then, a whisper of a touch—his fingers were grazing your hips, uttering a verse only you’d understand.  

Last night, he had kissed you—and maybe, because you thought he wouldn’t stop, because you thought he’d disappear, you pulled him closer, and closer; unwanting to let go. His whispers, pliant to your ears, had never been so soft. He held you; fingers against your waist and skin. His fingers had burned like wildfire; you felt it first against your cheek, your arms, then your hips. He held your heart by his soft fingertips, unscarred and gentle; his words were sugar-coated, leaving teeth rotting and hearts yearning. He kissed you, kissed you and kissed you. And the entire time, you were kissing him back.

You feel his smile against your shoulder, slightly dragging your shirt upwards, and you only hum in acknowledgement, too tired to reply with words. You feel your name against your skin. 

“Hi,” he says, lips kissing your shoulder. 

“Hey,” you manage to reply, and you turn your body so you’re facing him fully—and, when he pries the strands of hair out of your face you smile. “Morning.” 

“Morning,” he replies. Then, “you’re beautiful.”

You bury your face in his chest, groaning quietly, he laughs. “What?”

“You can’t just say things like that,” you protest, your voice a whisper against his warmth.

“I’m sorry, pretty girl,” he says, entirely unapologetic.

You take it though, slowly sneaking a glance at him as you lift your head, to see him smiling down at you (a kind, lazy thing). His hand cups your cheek and he’s kissing you again. There are so many things you need to do today, you think; the paperwork at your desk, and the errands lined up on your to-do list in your phone that you never bother to update. But you were so tired, and Spencer’s lips were so soft. When his nose nudges against yours, your mouth lazily falls open. His fingers are on your waist, his thumbs painting shapes against your skin.

When he pulls away you tell him you love him, and you don’t need to wait for him to tell you that he loves you too.

guys reqs r open but its gonna take me a decade to actually write them so be warned LMAOOO (+ for the people asking for pt.2 to waiting room ITS BEING MADE!!! so excited to share sakjnskfjb)

[kaylasficrecs]

spencer reid recs - part 3

close to home | imagine, fluffy flangst | @reidrum

not expecting you to leave | imagine, flangst | @tlou-reid

what he knows | imagine, flangst, comfort | @luveline

guilt ridden | imagine, flangst | @reidmania

don't think i don't like you | one shot, fluff | @luveline

criminally hot | imagine, flangst | @kisses4reid

safe | one shot, flangst | @rynbutt

you know the killer doesn't understand | one shot, angst (slight fluff) | @nereidprinc3ss

protect you | imagine, flangst | @spencerlicious

meant to be yours... | imagine, flangst (more fluff) | @lostbo0

choose me, love me | imagine, flangst | @cookiescribble

healing hands | imagine, fluff, comfort | @mistiell

castling | imagine, flangst | @reidrum

not her | one shot, flangst | @reidmarieprentiss

playing with spencer's hair | drabble, fluff | @how2dream

emergency contact | one shot, flangst | @vanteguccir

falling behind | imagine, fluff | @catssluvr

bracelet | drabble, fluff | @dylsluvrs

home | one shot, flangst | @auroralwriting

where we were meant to be | one shot, flangst | @reidmarieprentiss

you start to grow worried | imagine, flangst, comfort | @how2dream

kiss, kiss, fall in love | imagine, fluff | @rumplereids

hearts aligned | imagine, fluff | @raekensluver

your wife, huh? | drabble, fluff | @hotchsdovie

something better | imagine, angst | @reidmarieprentiss

doodles | imagine, fluff | @catssluvr

kisses his forehead | imagine, fluff | @luveline

now i have to act like i can't read your mind | imagine, flangst | @pathologicalreid (tw)

movie night cuddles | drabble, fluff | @how2dream

closet confessions | imagine, fluff | @smurphyse

actress' savior | one shot, flangst | @priniya

i wish i knew you wanted me | imagine, fluff (slight angst) | @irndad

[pathologicalreid]

You write fluff and flangst absolutely amazingly and I’m in awe every dang time!

Buuut since you’ve got spring break coming up, a little fic idea that’s in my head that I’ll never do justice! (If you’re interested)

Fem!reader finding out an adorable way to tell Spencer she’s pregnant. I don’t care if they’re dating or married or what - but like she puts together a crossword, or a puzzle and he just doesn’t get it. (If you wanna throw angst in, he leaves without getting it for a case and then realizes it in the middle of the night.)

puzzling | S.R.

trying to tell Spencer you're pregnant, but he's too concerned with your well-being to fill out your custom crossword puzzle

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: fluff content warnings: pregnancy and misc. symptoms., talk of fainting and blood tests. word count: 1.69k a/n: welcome back to the spencer reid dilf agenda! i hope this does your request justice and thank you for entrusting me with this idea!!!! <3

you

It was your pride and joy, the collection of folded papers that sat on the kitchen counter, next to a cup of coffee that you had already filled for him.

On your fake newspaper, you had created a custom crossword puzzle. With four very important clues.

Across: “Early stage of life”

Across: “American actress Frances _”

Down: “Must be finished by”

Down: “Veteran’s Day month”

You smiled softly to yourself as you heard Spencer’s footsteps coming down the staircase. Padding over to the kitchen counter, you sat on one of the stools, a cup of tea in front of you.

Before he even looked at the newspaper, Spencer leaned over to kiss you good morning, “You look tired,” he whispered, hooking a finger under your chin as if he were investigating the dark circles underneath your eyes.

“Way to make a girl feel good about herself,” you teased lightly, even though you knew he was right. At least you felt tired.

He rolled his eyes, “You know that’s not what I meant.” Turning to grab his mug of coffee off of the counter, he observed you again, “Are you sure your doctor said nothing was wrong?”

Smiling, you gave him a brief nod. You had gone to see your doctor a few days ago for nausea and fatigue, and Spencer would’ve gone with you had he not been on the other side of the country on a case. “They’re running some tests, but they didn’t see anything blatantly wrong,” the doctor was running a few blood tests, checking your iron levels and HCG.

Using his free hand, Spencer reached over and moved a lock of hair out of your face, “They said your blood pressure was low?”

Low blood pressure, as it turned out, was a pregnancy symptom that was most common in the first trimester. “You’re freaking out over nothing, Spence,” you told him. Really, it was something. A rather large something – or small, depending on how you wanted to look at it. “Come on, it’s crossword time,” you told him, using the end of the pen to tap on the newspaper.

“I worry about you when I’m away. You do know that low blood pressure can cause syncope, right? Did they prescribe you anything for it?” He asked, ignoring your wishes to move on and do the crossword.

There was a small part of you that just wanted to tell him, but frankly, you had worked too hard on the crossword puzzle to give yourself away like that. You couldn’t tell him that they didn’t prescribe you anything because they didn’t know how far along you were. A larger part of you knew that if you just got him to work on the puzzle, he would have his answers in about seven minutes.

Then his phone rang, he pulled the device out of his pocket, and the Caller ID on the screen caused you to slump your shoulders forward. It was Garcia. “Hey Garcia,” he greeted on the phone, “at the tarmac?”

You set your head on the counter and sighed in defeat as Spencer hung up the phone.

“Are you alright?” He asked you softly, tenderly wrapping an arm around your torso.

Humming, you sat back up, ignoring the stars in your field of vision as you did so. “I’m fine, you should go,” you insisted.

Spencer shook his head, “No, you’re sick. I’ll call Garcia back and tell her I have to stay back.” Acting bewildered at the idea that he had been so remiss as to agree to do his job while you were unwell.

You reached out and set a hand on his, “It’s alright, love. I can take care of myself,” you reminded him. Besides the fact that you were wholly self-sufficient, the only reason why Spencer would be asked to meet the team at the tarmac was if they were headed toward a particularly gnarly case – they needed all hands on deck.

“Promise me you’ll check in? Call your mom if you need any help, please,” he requested, pleading eyes following you as you got up to hug him.

Nodding, you wrapped your arms around him, “You should take the crossword with you.” Pulling away, you haphazardly refolded the newspaper and handed it to him.

Furrowing his brow, Spencer inspected the paper that you had given him. “We always do the crossword together on Saturdays,” he found you incredibly helpful on the pop culture clues. “We could save this one and then have two for next week,” he offered.

God. No. Your eyes widened at the idea of having to keep your secret for another week, shaking your head, you shrugged, “No, you should take it. It’ll make me look forward to next week even more,” you insisted.

He folded, and with a sweet kiss to the forehead, he was off to go save lives, remaining entirely unaware of the one growing inside of you.

him

The judgmental Italian behind him was proving to be a distraction, “Did you find something?” Spencer asked, eyeing the evidence board with frustration. Something bugged him about the case, and he couldn’t figure out exactly what it was.

“Not right now, but it’s three in the morning,” Rossi said, joining Spencer by the evidence board. “Why don’t you give that big brain of yours a break?”

Shaking his head, Spencer crossed his arms in front of his chest, “I tried. I can’t stop thinking about the case.” Men were popping up dead in a small Missouri town at an alarming rate, and he felt so close to a breakthrough.

Dave nodded like he understood the feeling, that was probably why he had emerged from his hotel room so early, returning to the precinct before the sun peeked over the horizon. “What do you usually do to wind your brain down?”

Raising his eyebrows, Spencer shrugged, “Crossword puzzles,” he admitted, any word puzzle would do the trick.

The chuckle from the older man next to him startled Spencer, “Now, why doesn’t that surprise me?” Rossi looked around the precinct, “I’m sure we can find one around here somewhere.”

“No,” Spencer said, “I have one in my bag, actually.” He refrained from including the detail that you had given him the crossword puzzle, or else he’d never hear the end of it.

Clapping him on the back, Rossi lifted his coffee cup, “Then I suggest you go take the thirty seconds to fill out that puzzle and then get some rest.”

Once he was back in his hotel room, he changed before pulling out the pile of papers that you had sent him off with. Sitting on top of the bed, he filled out the puzzle in approximately six minutes and forty-three seconds. Once the letters were filled in, he skimmed the puzzle – just to check it over.

The only one that might’ve given him trouble was about an American actress – usually he had you to help him with pop culture, but he recalled having the same last name as an actress in Days of Our Lives.

It was interesting that the words “Baby” and “Reid” were right next to each other.

Wait.

Quickly, he calculated the odds that the words “Baby” “Reid” “Due” and “November” were all in the puzzle and when the numbers were put together, they made your anniversary. Spencer just as quickly called you, listening to the phone ringing.

His heart was racing as he waited to see if you answered the phone. “Hey,” your groggy voice came through the receiver.

“Where did you get this crossword puzzle?” He asked you, flipping through the rest of the newspaper for the first time.

You hummed softly, “You’re doing it right now?”

Looking at the alarm clock on his bedside table, he dropped his face into his hands. “I’m sorry, love. I didn’t even think about the time,” it was just past four in the morning now, making it just past five in the morning in Virginia. “I just thought that…” his voice trailed off. What if it was just a coincidence?

There was silence on your end of the call, and he wondered if you had fallen asleep. You hadn’t been feeling well, and he’d woken you up with his phone call. “You thought what, Spence?”

The teasing lilt in your voice had given you away to him immediately. He knew. Every one of his suspicions were confirmed, “Y/N Reid,” he breathed.

“Spencer Reid,” you countered.

He took a deep breath, “Are you pregnant?”

“Yeah,” you answered simply, with about as much enthusiasm as he expected from you at five in the morning.

It all started to make sense to him. The low blood pressure, the drowsiness, and even the slight caginess when it came to him asking about your doctor’s visit. He swiped away a few stray tears, “I don’t know what to say.” It wasn’t a feeling he was overly used to.

You cleared your throat, “Are you happy?” Nerves clouded your voice, and he could hear you becoming more awake – more alert.

“I am,” he searched aimlessly. Elated. Thrilled. Ecstatic. “I’m so happy,” he told you, at a loss for words. “I don’t know what to say, I just… God, are you okay?” Dread washed over him, you were alone, sick, and pregnant at home and he was halfway across the country.

Sighing, he heard a ruffling on the other end of the call. “I’m great. I’m exhausted, I had no idea being pregnant was so tiring. I mean, I knew, but I didn’t know.” You sighed again, “I’m not making any sense.”

He laughed lightly at your rambling, “You’re making perfect sense. Chances are your energy will return during the second trimester.”

“Don’t get my hopes up.” You paused again for just a moment, “I’m sorry if I scared you. With the whole doctor’s appointment thing. They really are keeping an eye on my blood pressure and whole slew of other things, but they know the root cause.”

A giddy smile grew on his face, “It’s because you’re pregnant.”

A soft hum came through the phone, “It’s because I’m pregnant,” you concurred.

[actually-safer-to-kiss]

Confesser

Summary: Spencer is a criminology professor, and Reader is a French professor. Separate focuses managed to get tangled together once, which makes Reader even more suspicious when he stops by her office on Valentine’s Day.

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: Light flangst

Content warnings: Slap

Word count: 1.7k

A/N: a little last-minute Valentine scenario

The bulb in your desk lamp flickered, as if it was begging for you to call it a night. You've been working late nights at the office recently, not only to help your students before midterms but also to keep your mind at bay from the lingering anguish.

There’s nothing wrong with being alone on Valentine’s Day. It’s been the case for you for years now. Solitude has been your most consistent and prosperous state. It’s how you earned your place as tenure after just five years at Marbury University (Go Cardinals). A job for life. Many people aren’t lucky to have that like you are. So you can’t stop now and get comfortable. Your students love you, and over the years have advocated this position for you. Stopping now would be nothing but a disservice to them.

If only you hadn’t been so stupid your fourth year here (and the first half of your fifth), then the feelings you get when in Jefferson Hall might be less painful. You were stupid enough to believe that the number one workplace rule didn’t apply to you.

Don’t fuck your coworkers.

Perhaps you thought your achievements from back to back earned you a place of immunity in that pool. Well, Dr. Spencer Reid was happy to prove you wrong there. Things like that can always risk being casual, unrequited, awkward. And you were stupid enough to go back more than once, and sully the place and position you rightfully earned.

Spencer first noticed you speaking to some of your students outside the hall. When approaching, he spoke in French, assuming you were a foreign exchange student. But when you turned to face him, he saw your staff badge, and put the pieces together quickly. It’s not too far off of an assumption, as most people think you’re French when they see how easily the language and history flows from you. You applauded his French (both pronunciation and accent) regardless.

That meeting turned into a coffee date. Coffee turned to grabbing lunch, then grading papers together, moral support to keep one another going. That quickly trickled into a friendship as you learned about Spencer’s specialties, multiple degrees, and current employment at the BAU in Quantico. You’ve both been to France for pleasure and to study. One was coincidentally in the same year as each other, where you both visited the city of Orléans. The rich architecture and vast history as far back as the Merovingian era made you both agree you prefer it over Paris any day.

Those days were during your fourth year. And it was just over a year of friendship where you made the mistake of agreeing to a drink after work.

The bulb flickers, as if to mock those memories or distract you from going too deep. Does it really matter? Spencer made it clear it was a mistake. None of it was meant to happen — the kiss, the confession, the sex. And with your shared brilliance mixed with two vodka sodas, you both unraveled what used to be a genuine friendship, a trusting relationship among coworkers. You cut your desk lamp off with a click, muttering to yourself as you collect your bag and some books. It’s a good enough sign to call it a night and head home. At the very least, you could spoil yourself with a nice bath and some wine. You question if you should grab a bottle on the way home or use what you’ve got stashed.

Your keys rattle in the door as you lock up your office, and you jerk on the doorknob for the sake of double checking. Spencer told you most break-ins occur because people fail to check the locks in their homes or cars before leaving. You don’t know how many of your students or fellow professors in the Language Department would be eager to bust into your office, unless they need some spicy ancient French poetry or books on Rococo architecture. No issues of the sort have arisen yet.

That is until you spot him at the end of the hall, drenched in fluorescent lighting and paused as if you caught him in the act. Of what, you didn’t know. It’s not like Spencer was short on French books or books in French. You hesitated to speak, questioning if it was even worth speaking a word to him. Regardless of the fact that you have to go his direction to get to your car.

Of course you caved. “Spencer.” You tried to not make your gulp so audible.

He just stood there awkwardly, like this wasn’t as much his fault as it was yours. Like you were in his way.

You scoff. Seeing him there, just feet away, it’s a cruel feeling blooming in your chest. The idea that maybe it isn’t too late. Maybe he’s here to confess what he really feels. On Valentine’s Day, no less. A bit of a cliché, but you’re not in a position to be too picky about how you might make up. If that’s even what’s happening.

With reluctance, you walk toward him. “I’m heading home for the night,” you say. “Are you parked out front too?” It pains to ask as if this is all casual. It feels like your heart’s about to burst or crush because he’s not saying a word as you approach him. Not until you actually approach him.

“Hi,” he meekly says. He looks pale. He looks sick with worry. If you were more concerned, you would feel inclined to ask about it.

You try to avoid sighing too loudly. You need the air. Since the bar (and everything after that), you two haven't been this close. “Do you want to walk out to the parking lot?”

Spencer shakes his head. “I, uh, I got you something.” He digs around in his satchel and pulls out a frame delicately. Like it was an old piece of art. Spencer hands it to you.

It’s not an old piece of art. It’s an old piece of poetry. Two of them in a single frame.

“They’re not the originals. But I have a friend in Germany who knows a guy in France who could exchange some pretty old copies.”

You stared at the pieces. Gawked is likely the more accurate word. They were definitely old copies. It was all handwritten and translated to Middle English.

You looked up at Spencer. “Charles d’Orléans?”

Spencer nodded, lips pressed together in a boyish, nervous smile.

You were so stunned by the decoration of the parchment, the distinct age of the pieces (well before the revolution), you almost forgot to ask, “Why are you giving this to me?”

“Had some spares around the apartment. Figured you’d appreciate them more than me.” He chuckled.

You turned your head and narrowed your eyes.

And you saw Spencer’s audible gulp. Much more audible than yours earlier (yes!). “Read it.”

You scan over the parchment, translating in your head:

Let men and women on Love’s party

Choose their St. Valentine this year!

I remain alone, comfort stole from me

On the hard bed of painful thought.

As he is well this day has caught

A Valentine that loves him, as I guess,

Whereas this comfort me here alone

Upon my bed so hard of painful thought.

You looked back up at Spencer, hoping this time he’ll put some more context behind the words instead of leaving you to fill in the blanks (again). You waited.

“I’m sorry about what I said. Or I guess… the way I said it. Maybe both. Both is probably the safer option to go with. The point is that I’m genuinely sorry. I didn’t mean what I said.”

You didn’t know what to do with the poems. It is instinct to keep them close to your chest like a book, but (like with you and Spencer) you’re afraid of ruining them. Somehow cracking it or damaging them. Firmly held in your hands, you are hyper-aware of its value. You also try not to let your emotions take a grip for the sake of your pieces. “You said it was a mistake.”

“It was a mistake that we went that far in one night. That’s… not who I am.”

You quirked a brow.

“That’s not who I usually am. I went too far in every way, and I’m sorry.”

You clamped your lips closed, looking around like students were present, ready to eavesdrop and gossip later. If your favorites were here, they would beg you to dish it all out over lunch. But no one was here. It was just you and Spencer (and Charles, kind of). “But what if my feelings were genuine?”

“I-I assumed they were. And I hurt them, and I’m sorry. I understand if I blew it and you may want to forget those feelings now, which is completely understandable. I destroyed it all in one night. And I can’t hold your hands right now, but I want to, and just say that you’re very important to me. And I miss you being around. And, uh, whatever context that might be, I hope we can be around each other again. A-at some point in the future.”

You sighed. It was heavy but concentrated. You needed a fresh breath of air. Spencer had the look of a sad puppy. It’s the way he looked whenever he was worried. How could you kick a sad puppy when he’s already down?

Well, you didn’t. You slapped him.

And he instantly reached for his cheek, already burning red.

“That’s for hurting me.”

Spencer nodded, not objecting to that part.

You then took that same cheek and pulled him closer, locking his lips with yours. And you both inhale deeply upon recognizing the contact. You’re hesitant about getting closer, given Charles is between you. “That’s me forgiving you.”

Spencer’s eyes crinkled as he held your face, but he didn’t initiate a kiss. The nerves in his fingers show he was hesitant to touch you so suddenly. He wasn’t messing this up again. “Can I walk you to your car?”

This time, it’s you who doesn’t hesitate. You hold the frame in one arm, cradling it like a baby. And you reach for Spencer’s hand as you walk out of Jefferson Hall.

[basketonthedoorstepofthefbi]

masterlist!

SOOOO happy you're here!

hi! i'm jamie, i'm 24 and in the US. i love seeing requests in my inbox so feel free to send one! currently accepting for spencer reid, aaron hotchner, and emily prentiss!! 😍

my “main” blog is @sorryimbeingapillaboutit, I didn’t understand that you can’t follow people from second blogs when I created this one, so if you see likes/follows/asks or anything from that page — That’s-a-me! I’m 99% of the time on this blog though!!

while most of my content is sfw, i will ask minors to stay away :)

my request guidelines

i'd love to hear from you! <3

—————————

Spencer Reid Fics:

wingwoman (angst/ fluff) spencer reid x Fem!BAUReader ~ 5000 words

big hands (angst/fluff) spencer reid x Fem!PlusSize!Reader ~ 1500 words

shaking (angst/fluff) spencer reid x Fem!Reader ~ 2500 words

safer to kiss - part 1 ~ 2800 words - part 2 ~ 3200 words - (angst/fluff) spencer reid x Fem!BAUReader

round table (fluff) spencer reid x gn!reader ~ 1500 words

comfortable (fluff/smut) MDNI! spencer reid x fem!plussize!reader ~ 3600 words

cold feet (literally) (fluff) spencer reid x fem!reader - 1000 words

in the eye of the beholder (fluff) spencer reid x gn!reader ~850 words

Aaron Hotchner Fics:

cream cheese (blurb/fluff) Hotch x gn!reader ~ 500 words

flu season (fluff) hotch x gn!reader ~ 1700 words

look at me (angst) hotch x gn!reader ~ 980 words

hungover (fluff) hotch x fem!reader ~ 1300 words

dance recital (fluff) hotch x mom!reader ~ 1400 words

patience (smutish) hotch x fem!reader ~ 1500 words

dressing up (fluff) hotch x fem!reader ~ 1600 words

dressing down (fluff) hotch x fem!reader ~ 1500 words

obstinate, headstrong girl part 1 ~ 4600 words - part 2 ~3000 words (enemies to lovers) hotch x fem!reader

concrete (flangst) hotch x fem!bau!reader ~ 1400 words

burden (flangst) hotch x fem!reader ~ 1200 words

james taylor (fluff) hotch x fem!reader - 650 words

Emily Prentiss Fics:

anything (flangst) emily prentiss x fem!reader ~ 1400 words

tea (fluff) emily prentiss x fem!reader ~ 1200 words

[reiding-writing]

REDDD ‼️ MAJOR CONGRATS FOR YOUR MILESTONE YOU DESERVE IT AHHHH

may i request 1 & 7 from the general dialogue prompts with spencer reid please 🥹🫶

SENDING YOU KISSES ☝️🤭😚 XOXO

POOL ‘PARTY’ [CLIMACTERIC]

/pul ˈpɑːrti/

1. “Okay, maybe I have a crush on you! So what?”

7. “I don’t want anyone else.”

WARNINGS: based on 01x18, minor lila slander, spencer thinking of someone else whilst making out with lila, arguing

spencer reid x gn!reader || flangst || 1.9k Il climacteric event!!

a/n: THANK YOU ML <3333 enjoy me dabbling back into my angst game again, with a happy ending ofc 🫶

main masterlist!! ⋆｡°✩ event masterlist!!

You approach Spencer with a raised eyebrow and a click of your tongue, eyes scanning over Spencer’s completely soaked appearance.

His eyes turn to you widened in surprise, but his expression quickly morphs into guilt as he meets your eyes. “I uh- fell in,”

“I’m sure there are plenty of photos of you ‘falling in’,” Your eyes narrow with a scoff, and you cross your arms over your chest in very clear disappointment at his recklessness.

“I- It really wasn’t meant to happen I swear-” You cut off Spencer’s attempt at an explanation by shoving a beach towel against his torso, and he lets out a small groan from the force.

“You have to be the stupidest person i’ve ever met.” Spencer flinches at your tone, hands wringing at the towel as he lowers his head.

He supposes he deserves the scolding, he’d broken so many rules of professionalism and put Lila’s life in danger.

The worst part was that he didn’t even enjoy it.

He’d ruined everything and didn’t even enjoy what he was risking everything for.

He truly was an idiot.

“I’m sorry-”

“I don’t want your apology.” You cut him off with a hand raised in his direction. “If you want to apologise to someone, apologise to Lila, because you won’t be seeing her for the rest of the case.”

Lila’s name is dripping with venom as it rolls off your tongue, and Spencer presses his lips into a tight line with a small nod in your direction.

It’s a proportional punishment, but it’s not like he wanted to see her again anyway. Even the thought of what he’d done made him want to punch himself.

“I really didn’t-” He stops himself this time, knowing that you don’t want to hear his excuses. “I’ll… go change now…”

“There’s clothes in the SUV.” He sighs dejectedly at the coyness in your tone, and he swears he’ll cry if you keep this up.

“Right…” He gives you a soft nod, and you have half the mind to feel bad about the way you’re treating him, but for some reason the image of the two of them in the pool together fills you with some unforeseen, insurmountable rage that you can’t seem to suppress.

After he’s changed and dry, he reapproaches the front of the house cautiously. He knows that he probably won’t be allowed back inside, but he also doesn’t want to hang around the SUV looking like an idiot, he’d made himself a big enough one already.

You’re the only one still outside, standing with your arms crossed with your eyes following his movements through your narrowed gaze.

You were still angry with him. Great.

He didn’t want you to be angry with him. That was the last thing he ever wanted.

“I…” Spencer exhales softly as he comes up short on something to say. You didn’t want him to apologise. You didn’t want him to explain himself. What was he supposed to say?

You answer his question for him with one of your own. “Was it worth it?”

He flickers his eyes towards yours, guilt and regret written all over his features. “No…”

“Didn’t think so.”

Spencer can feel the tears prick at his eyes as your tone continues to wash over him like an ice-cold shower, and he takes a shuddered breath in through his mouth, clearing his throat and blinking rapidly to keep his gaze clear.

“I didn’t want to… I didn’t even enjoy it…” He frowns through glassy eyes and you crumble almost immediately. How are you supposed to be angry at him when he looks like that?

“Why did you do it?” Your voice is considerably softer this time, and as much as Spencer is grateful for it, it doesn’t stop a single tear from trickling down his face.

“I don’t know-” He sighs heavily as he wipes his cheek with the back of his hand, running his other hand through the still damp mess of his hair.

He did know.

Kind of anyway.

He’d always prided himself on having a vivid imagination, one that he had been using during what happened with Lila.

And you could read his dishonesty immediately.

“Spencer.”

He knew he’d been caught. “I don’t want to talk about it,”

He crosses his arms over his chest defensively as he evades eye contact with you.

“Spencer.” You were going to get to the bottom of his reasoning behind breaking one of the cardinal rules of being an FBI agent.

“I was imagining that she was someone else okay?” He raises his voice slightly in his defensiveness, and you have to take a second to actually soak in his sentence and the implications of it.

“You- What?” You can do nothing but stare at him in a state of absolute shock at his confession.

“I was imagining that I was kissing somebody else…” He repeats his statement with much less vigour the second time around, biting the inside of his cheek.

“Does she know that?” You raise an eyebrow slightly as you ask your question. God knows you wouldn’t want to be kissing someone only to find out that they were thinking about somebody else the entire time.

“We had an argument about it before you guys turned up…”

So she did know. That made it a little better at least.

“So who was it then?”

Spencer turned his eyes back to yours again with a surprised expression. “What?-”

“Who were you thinking about?” You’re not sure exactly why you want to know who Spencer was thinking about during his little ‘pool party’, and you had a feeling you wouldn’t be satisfied with whatever answer you gave him, but some twisted part of your mind felt the need to know.

“I-” Spencer pressed his lips together tightly. “You don’t need to know that,”

“Why not?” You furrow your eyebrows as his defensiveness escalates again. “What’s there to hide?”

“Maybe I just don’t want my personal life being aired to the people I work with?” He mirrors your expression with his own as he rubs his hands up and down his arms.

“Fine, keep your secrets then,” you say, a hint of frustration in your voice. “But just know, you can't keep messing up like this. It's not just about you.”

"I know that," he returns your frustration with his own. “But who I’m interested in is nobody’s business except my own.”

“Why are you so defensive about this?”

“Why do you want to know who it is so badly?”

The tension crackles between you two, each word adding fuel to the fire of the argument.

“Because,” you retort sharply, “I need to know if I can trust you. If your mind is somewhere else when you're supposed to be focused on the mission, it puts everyone at risk,”

Was that the real reasoning behind why you wanted to know so badly? No. But you didn’t exactly know what was.

Spencer's jaw tightens, his eyes flashing with a mix of frustration and hurt. “You think I don't take this seriously? You think I don't care about the mission?”

“I don't know what to think anymore,” you admit, your voice softer now, but no less charged with emotion. “All I know is that you've been acting recklessly, and I can't afford to have that kind of distraction.”

“I'm not distracted,” Spencer protests, his voice tinged with desperation.

“You just verbally admitted to thinking about somebody else whilst making out with someone, that’s not distracted?” You gesture outwards exasperatedly. “We can’t be sure that you’ve got the right head in the game unless you say who you were thinking about.”

“It was you okay?” Spencer’s voice raises again as he throws out his arms in frustration. “Happy?”

You didn’t have the mental capacity to decide if you were happy.

You barely computed his answer in the first place. Were you happy that it was you? Was that the reason you pressed him so hard?

What on earth was happening?

“What-”

“Okay yeah, maybe I have a crush on you, so what?” Spencer continued to verbalise his defensiveness in exasperation. “It’s not like it was ever going to go anywhere.”

“You were thinking about me?” You still haven’t fully comprehended his confession yet, and Spencer mistakes your slowness for sarcasm.

“Yes. I was thinking about you. There’s no need to rub it in my face.” Spencer's frustration is palpable, his shoulders slumping as if the weight of the world rests upon them.

But beneath the frustration, there's a vulnerability, a rawness that tugs at your heartstrings.

You realise then that this argument, this tension between you, it's not just about the mission or the case—it's about something deeper, something you've both been trying to ignore or brush aside.

"I'm not trying to rub it in your face," you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "I'm just... trying to understand."

“I mean-” You fumble over your sentences as you try to make sense of everything. “Why would you kiss somebody else? Why would you imagine it was me whilst you did it? I just- I don’t get it,”

“I don’t want anybody else. I never wanted anybody else. But what was I supposed to do?” Spencer sighs as he takes his fingers through his hair.

“Tell me?”

“And have you rip me to pieces? I’d rather spend my whole life as just your friend than risk something like that-” He doesn’t have the chance to finish his sentence.

Your lips press against his hard, your hand anchored at the side of his neck as you take what you deem a reasonable action to get him to just stop talking for a second.

In your defence, it does work, all of Spencer’s frustration dying on his tongue as he slowly starts to reciprocate, his hands half-hesitantly coming up to cup your face so that he wouldn’t lose the contact with you even if you tried to pull away, which of course, you weren’t going to do unless strictly necessary.

He finally didn’t have to imagine what your lips would taste like anymore, and he wasn’t going to let the moment end before he got his fill of you.

[jae-sch-writes]

Cracked, But Far From Broken

Characters: Spencer Reid x Reader, Mr., and Mrs. Olson (OCs), The BAU

Genre: flangst

Word Count: 1,503

Summary: While on a case, a couple has a fight and it triggers a panic attack. Spencer helps you through it

Warnings: panic attack, yelling, fighting, mention of child abductions

A/N: Edited with Grammarly but any and all mistakes are my own and no one is to blame for them but myself.

We are afraid to care too much, for fear that the other person does not care at all.

-Eleanor Roosevelt 

Spencer knew that you had a panic disorder and he knew how to help you if a panic attack were to come. This was one of the first things you told him when the two of you started dating. You were afraid he didn't want to be with you anymore after you told him, but he stayed with you and promised he'd always be there should a problem arise.

The team was working on a case in the Upper Peninsula. There were some child abductions in Houghton, Michigan and the BAU was brought in to help get the kids back.

After returning from the Olson's house, you and Spencer came into the Houghton Police Station. The parent's of one of the children were fighting in the bullpen.

"If you had just been watching him a little bit closer then maybe he wouldn't have gotten taken in the first place!" the father yelled.

"He was in the bathroom! I couldn't have gone in there if I wanted to! He had the door locked!"

"Well then maybe you should've gone in there with him!"

The yelling could be heard from outside the building and it seemed even more intense inside. You gripped Spencer's hand and tried to calm your nerves.

Your parents fought often and they usually dragged you into it. They would force you to pick sides and whoseever side you didn't take, that parent would punish you.

"And you!" the mother screamed at you, looking at you directly in the eyes. "Why the hell are you back here when my baby is somewhere out there?  You could be out there looking for Tyler but instead, you're here and you're gonna do what? Fill out some paperwork?" She turned back to her husband and continued the yelling.

You had to step away and go into the sheriff's office. You leaned your head against the wall and tried to calm your nerves, but that only sped up your breathing.

The door opened behind you and Spencer came in.

"Hey, hey Y/N," he said quietly. "It's okay. Alright? You're okay. I'm right here, I promise."

"I-I," you rasped between heavy breaths.

"Don't talk, okay? I need you to turn around for me, can you do that?" You turned around to face him and you slid to the floor, unable to keep your balance anymore. "Good, good. Okay, now I want you to breathe in until I count to four, okay? Can you do that?"

You nodded your head and tried to steady your breathing, but you only made it to two before you let out your breath.

"It's okay, you can do it I know you can."

You tried again and this time you made it to four counts.

"Good, now you're going to hold your breath for seven counts, okay?"

You let out your breath early again, but Spencer coached you through it a couple of times and you eventually were able to make it to seven.

"You're doing great, Y/N. Now you're going to let out your breath for eight counts. Do you think you can do that for me."

You nodded your head and let out your breath for the full eight counts on the first try. You repeated what Spencer called 'The 4-7-8 Method' a couple of times before you felt your breath fully even out.

"Thank you," you whispered before pulling your legs up to your chest and leaning your head against your knees.

"It's not a problem at all. Approximately 1 to 2 percent of Americans suffer a panic disorder at some point during the year and about 5 percent experience it at some point in their lives,"* Spencer said as he rubbed your back. "And not everyone who experiences panic attacks has a panic disorder. Sometimes they can just evolve from stress and can come uncued. Despite feeling like no one can understand what it feels like, someone out there does. Panic attacks are different for each individual, however, many people have similar experiences."

Spencer's rambling helped ease your nerves. He knew his voice would help calm you down. He would often go on a tangent if you were feeling anxious because he knew it would help.

"I'm going to go get you some water, okay?" You nodded as Spencer stood up and went out of the room.

"What have you been doing in there for the last twenty minutes?" the husband shouted as he saw Spencer come out of the office. "Discussing theories? Making a plan? Is there maybe anything you would like to share with the class, Doctor?'

"Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to calm down and lower your voice," Spencer said.

"Why should I? While I've been out here worried sick, you and that other Agent have been in that room doing who knows what? If you asked me, I would say the two of you were hooking up in there."

"Mr. Olson, your yelling at the team is doing nothing but slowing down the process of finding Tyler. Now, Agent Y/LN and I did find some valuable information at your house and we were going to share it, however, your fight with your wife and then bringing Y/N into the situation caused her to have a triggered panic attack. Now, if you excuse me, I'm going to go get some water and go back inside that room and we will only come out when Agent Y/LN is ready to."

Spencer finished his speech and went to a vending machine to get the water he had promised you. On his way back, Mr. Olson stopped him.

"Dr. Reid," he said. "I'm really sorry about before. My temper and the stress of trying to find Tyler alive just took over. I'm truly sorry for causing Agent Y/LN to have a panic attack."

"Mr. Olson, what you did is not your fault. There's no way you could have possibly known that fighting in the form of words would be a trigger for Y/N's anxiety. She's doing okay right now, but I would advise that you and your wife stop fighting and certainly stop pointing fingers at the BAU. I understand that you're furious with yourselves and you blame yourselves for Tyler getting taken. I'm also aware that the FBI is an easy scapegoat for your feelings, but you need to realize that we want to find Tyler alive just as much as you do, and we can't do that if you're affecting our work. But please, if you have any information that may seem vital to the case, feel free to tell us. I'm going to go back in with Y/N now. If you have any other questions or comments, please see Agent Jareau."

Spencer got done talking with Mr. Olson and came back into the Sheriff's office and rejoined you on the floor. You were in the same position as you were when he left to go get the water for you.

"How are you doing?"

"I'm okay. Thanks," you said quietly. You reached for the water and let the cool liquid run down your throat.

You let your head rest against Spencer's shoulder as you sat in silence. You didn't want to go and face the rest of the team quite yet, and Spencer was okay with that. He had helped you through another one of these before and he knew it took you a while to recover, but he was willing to stay with you until you were ready.

"I'm sorry," you said after a few minutes. Spencer knew you had a habit of blaming yourself for things like this happening.

"Don't apologize. You can't control it. There's nothing to be sorry for, I promise."

"I know, but I still feel the need to say it."

"I know you do, but I promise you don't need to say anything."

Spencer pressed a gentle kiss to your temple and you sat in silence for a little longer.

A couple of minutes later, you were ready to go back out and help with the case again. Spencer helped you up off the floor and held your hand as the two of you walked out of the room.

The rest of the unit looked at you as you approached them, each of their faces had concern written across them. You gave them a smile and told them what you found at the house.

No one said a word about what happened after that and you were grateful. No one treated you differently. No one treated like you were fragile and vulnerable. If anything, they considered you to be the strongest out of all of them.

The one you were the most grateful for was Spencer. He was there when you were at your most vulnerable and he helped you through it, but he never treated you like you were broken. You loved him even more for that.

Spencer reminded you that you are not broken. You may be cracked, but you are far from broken.

I will not fear, for you are with me and you will never leave me to face my perils alone.

-Thomas Merton

* www.newharbinger.com

Tags

@re-fordoremi @randomstuff-idontwannatalkboutit @dontshootmespence @cynbx

[emerynmorr]

Abducted, Tortured, and Left for Dead Pt. One

This is my first time posting fan-fiction so please bare with me. I’m not sure how long this is going to be or how many parts ————————

Reid x Female Reader

Warnings: Torture, blood, language

Fluff and angst

The reader and Spencer have been dating for a few years They met when Spencer and Dave were giving a lecture in your class. The reader is currently in college majoring in forensic psychology. 

-----

YOUR POV

You awoke to an empty bed. There was a note on Spencer’s pillow. She picked it up and started to read it. “Good morning beautiful, Hotch called we have a case in a few towns over. I’ll be home in a couple of days. I’ll call you as soon as I can. I love you.” You sighed and got up to take a shower. You have know idea what you’re going to do today.

-----

Time Skip to after shower

------

You got dressed into comfy clothes sat on the couch deciding to study for an upcoming exam you have in your forensic psychology class.

After a couple of hours of studying you decided to go for a walk around the park that was a couple of blocks away. You got up and put on some yoga pants, a loose shirt and tennis shoes. You were about to walk out the door when you decided to text Spencer ‘hey babe, how’s the case going so far? I’m about to go far a walk around the park at the corner of Chestnut and Maple. I love you. Please be careful and stay safe. I want you back in one piece.’ You sent the message walking out the door then locking it. 

You were halfway to the park when your phone started ringing. You saw Spencer’s name flash across the screen along with your favorite picture of the two of you. You smiled and answered. “Hey ba-” Spencer interrupted you. “Y/N baby I need you to get to the BAU immediately, the UnSub we are after sent a teenage boy to the police with a file filled with pictures of you going all the way back to 2 months ago. “Okay I’m on my way.” “I love you Spence.” “Love you too Y/n” I hung up I was freaked out I couldn’t tell Spencer that I didn’t drive. I had walked to the park now I need to walk to the Bau which is about 2 blocks from here. 

Every person you walk passed or if someone looked at a weird way you shivered. You were scared out of your mind. You didn’t know what this ‘person’ wanted with you. About a block away from the Bau you realized that you were being followed by a black van that you also saw when you were at the park. You pulled out your phone and pulled up Spencer’s contact as you started to run. The phone was ringing after the third ring he answered “whats wrong, did you make it to-” but before he could say anything you screamed into the phone as you were pulled into the van by a masked person.  You hadn’t realized the van had stopped near you when you slowed down to call Spencer.

*****************************************************

I hope you guys enjoyed the first part of my fic.

In the next part it’ll start out in Spencers POV and you’ll find out about the case.

Please give me feedback. Again I’m just starting out so I’ll accept any kind of feedback. Thank you for reading. 

[thekatherinewinchester]

WIPs

Hey y’all! So here are all the fics I am working on! There is no particular, so they will not be posted in this order. once the fic has been posted it will deleted from this list.

SMUT - 💦

ANGST - 😭

LIGHT ANGST - 🥺

FLUFF - 🥰

FLANGST - 🥲

SMANGST - 🤗

Dean Winchester

5am Goodbyes 🤗

What He Deserved 😭

A Thousand Years 🥲

Jensen Ackles

Never Again 😭

Dallas 🤗

Comfortably Numb 🤗

The Gift 🤗

J2

Rewrite of Second Chances Series

Spencer Reid

Touch 🥰

Need 💦

Truths Part 2 😭

Untouched 💦

Matthew Gubler

Accidental Snapchat Part 2 💦

Ariel for a Day Part 2 💦

Keeper of the Stars 🥲

[dreamsontheirway]

Lemon & Honey | S.R.

Summary: The reader has postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome, or POTS, and suffers from fainting spells. Warnings: POTS, fainting Word Count: 2.1k

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Growing up, you always had awful menstrual cycles. They were heavy, you were emotional, and black dots danced in your vision each time you stood up. When you became a teenager and started the birth control pill, your cycles became better, more consistent. But that was also when the fainting started.

In your teenage years and into young adulthood, you fainted multiple times a week, sometimes more. At first, the doctors had no idea what was wrong and they thought the worst. It was a scary time for you and your family, not knowing what was causing these debilitating fainting spells.

Finally, a couple months after your twenty-first birthday, you went to a new doctor. You soon learned that your extreme menstrual cycles and your fainting spells were connected. You were diagnosed with POTS.

You recalled the memory, your brows furrowing in confusion as your mother’s hand held yours.

“Postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome,” the doctor furthered. “Your fainting is caused by an extreme change in heart rate, particularly when changing from a seated to standing position.”

“Fainting isn’t always a common symptom,” the doctor continued, looking at you with kind eyes. “But it can happen more than people realize. There’s nothing wrong with you, Y/N. We will get you on a medicine to manage this.”

You liked to think that miracle doctor saved your life that day. If it weren’t for him, you may still have these debilitating fainting spells. If it weren’t for him, you would have never found a medicine that reduced your fainting to once in a blue moon. If it weren’t for him, you would’ve never joined the FBI and met the love of your life, Spencer Reid.

You and Spencer have been dating for several months, but he has yet to learn about your diagnosis. With how managed it is now, it merely feels like an afterthought for you.

However, that doesn’t mean Spencer hasn’t picked up on a few things over the course of your relationship. He noticed how awful your periods messed with you; the cramps and the depression. He noticed the way you gripped the side of the table until your knuckles turned white upon standing up from your desk.

Spencer knew that there were a multitude of reasons for these behaviors. Maybe she has low iron levels? Could it be orthostatic hypotension? Unfortunately for Spencer, there was never a way to fully diagnose your symptoms. He was forced to sit and witness, and take care of you, with your struggles. Spencer probably would’ve figured out your diagnosis, if it weren’t for the fact that you’d never fainted around him, yet.

That fateful day came on a Wednesday in the middle of October. The trees were transforming, swirling colors of red and orange and yellow. You walked into the bullpen, preparing yourself for the mountains of case files you knew you had to complete.

You had woken up feeling the symptoms. The pounding in your chest, the dizziness. You could often tell when it was going to be a bad day in terms of your diagnosis, but today you brushed it off. It had been months since you fainted, and you were beginning to hope that you never would again. You realized that was likely wishful thinking, but you continued your morning as normal.

Well, somewhat normal. Upon sitting at your desk, you realized you probably shouldn’t have coffee today. You probably shouldn’t have tea, either, but you needed something. The caffeine from the drinks spiked your heart rate, making fainting inevitable on a day like today. Your thoughts were interrupted by the kind voice of your boyfriend.

“Good morning, I picked this up on my way in.”

A tea bag was draped over the side of the cafe take out cup, and you grinned. Somehow, Spencer always knew what you needed, despite you having yet telling him about your POTS.

“It’s a green tea with a splash of black, with lemon and honey.” Spencer smiled goofily, his mouth straight, but outstretched and downturned. You always thought he looked reminiscent of an amphibian, in the cutest possible way of course.

“You are literally the best thing to ever happen to me,” you spoke, a hint of playfulness in your tone.

Even though you were joking, a part of you really meant it. Sometimes it felt like Spencer read your mind when it came to the things you needed, especially when dealing with your symptoms. Of course, there were many other things that Spencer was a bit clueless about. When it came to your symptoms, though, he somehow just knew.

Spencer occasionally brought you coffee, too, but he had noticed your behavior being off yesterday and last night. He noticed your white knuckles gripping the desk almost every time you stood up yesterday. Last night, he noticed your exhaustion. You two had been sat on your couch, watching a movie. Your head had rested on his shoulder, but you fell asleep nearly twenty minutes into the movie.

Spencer had a hunch, but he wasn’t sure. He was starting to wonder if there was something wrong with your heart rate. If he was correct, coffee was the worst possible thing you could be drinking. In all seriousness, you should only be drinking water, but he knew you needed something to be able to function. So, he decided on your favorite tea order.

Several hours ticked by, the pile of files on your desk slowly but surely decreasing. Your tea was long gone, but your eyes kept fluttering closed. You needed more caffeine or you were going to fall asleep at this desk and probably get written up. The thought of getting in trouble stirred you to a straightened sitting position.

You stood, your head pounding along with your quickened heart rate. Your hands gripped the desk for a few moments, enough time for your vision to clear from the black veil. You continued towards the kitchenette to find something to keep you awake.

Spencer had witnessed the entire ordeal, and he quickly stood and followed you to the kitchenette. If his hunch was correct, any more caffeine would surely make you feel much, much worse.

“Y/N,” he spoke, and you whipped around to look at him. “What’re you doing?”

Your brows furrowed in confusion at your boyfriend’s concerned face.

“I am looking for more tea?” You said, a questioning tone lacing your words.

“I don’t think you should have any more.”

“Excuse me?” You asked incredulously. Spencer had never made any sort of remark about what you should or should not be eating or drinking. Luckily, he typically knew better than that.

“I noticed that you get dizzy when you stand up. If my hunch is correct, any more caffeine may make you more dizzy and potentially lose consciousness.”

You gaped at him, wondering how he had merely hypothesized a diagnosis that had taken years for you and your doctor’s to figure out. He is a doctor, you thought, but not that kind of doctor.

“I don’t see how what I drink is any of your business.” You muttered, more harshly than you intended to.

The continuous pounding in your head paired with the frustration of not having more caffeine just pissed you off. You grabbed a water bottle and stormed back to your desk.

Spencer wasn’t upset at your anger towards him, especially when he saw that you chose a water instead of more tea. He was just glad that you were taking care of yourself. In addition, he knew you’d most likely feel bad about your outburst in a few minutes and everything would be fine. Even if you didn’t, he didn’t care all too much.

You stormed back to your desk, the tips of your ears red with anger and embarrassment. You felt bad for lashing out at Spencer, but frankly, you wanted your damn tea. Now you had to resort to the classic way of waking yourself up, cold water and the stinging on your arms. You pulled a hair band that rested on your wrist above the flesh before letting it ricochet back to your skin, leaving a red mark. It hurt, but it did the trick.

Another hour or so passed, and you had to go to the restroom. Once again, upon standing your vision blackened and you waited a few moments before continuing out of the bullpen.

Of course, in typical Spencer fashion, he noticed it all, but there was something different this time. Not only did the time it took you to regain yourself take much longer, but your eyes were squinted as you left the bullpen. It wasn’t that bright in here. He wondered if you had a headache, or if there was still blackness clouding your vision.

He didn’t have time to decide before he hopped up and followed you. Upon seeing you, he was extremely glad that he did. You were leaned against the hallway wall, starting to sag.

“Y/N!”

He rushed to you then, either hands gripping your waist to hold you steady.

You mumbled something incoherently, your vision almost completely masked by unconsciousness. You felt hands on your waist and it was the permission your body seemed to need in order to let go.

Spencer felt your body go limp, and he pulled you into him before lowering you to the floor.

“Shit, shit, shit,” he muttered frantically, as his hands hovered above you, unsure of what to do.

He reminded himself that most fainting victims will wake up within the minute. He knew he had to be patient, but that was fucking impossible at the sight of his girlfriend unconscious and crumpled on the floor.

He was about to get up and call for help when he heard you groan.

“Love,” he cooed, falling to his knees, his hand softly grazing your flushed cheek.

“Spence?”

“Yeah, beautiful, it’s me. I’m right here.”

“Did I faint?” Your eyes were still closed, presumably to shield yourself from the harsh light of the hallway.

“Yeah, love, you did.”

You slowly nodded and started to sit up. Spencer started to protest, but he decided to help you lean against the wall instead.

“I’m sorry, Spencer, it’s my fault. I should’ve been more careful like you said.”

His brows crumpled. He felt guilty for making you feel as if this was your fault.

“You didn’t do anything wrong.” He kissed your temple, his heart fluttering with thankfulness that you were alright.

“Spence, I have to tell you something.”

His heart fluttered in anticipation, worried of what you might say. He nodded, encouraging you to continue.

“I have POTS, it’s,”

“Postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome,” Spencer finished for you, a guilty smile playing his lips when he realized he interrupted you.

“Yeah,” you smiled at him, thankful that you wouldn’t have to go through the spiel of explanation. Of course, not that you expected you’d have to with Spencer, the resident genius.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he started, rubbing your cheek again. “It seems like you have a bad case of it.”

She paled at the memory of what she had gone through growing up.

“It used to be worse, if you can believe it.”

Spencer’s jaw tightened, bothered that you’d had to go through any of this. The fact that it used to be worse pulled on the strings of his heart.

“What can I do?”

You smiled at him, thankful for his understanding and willingness to help.

“If I’m being honest, I should probably go home, but all those files,” you paused, groaning at the thought of your continuous mountain of case files.

“No, we’re going home. I’ll bring your case files and work on them.” Spencer stated matter-of-factly.

You didn’t protest; you knew how fast his reading skills were, and you were at the point where you’d appreciate any help.

“Will you tell Hotch? I’ll grab my stuff," you spoke and started to sit up, but Spencer softly held your shoulders down.

“No, you stay here. I’ll grab your stuff and be right back. I don’t want you fainting again.”

“Spence,” you began to protest, but he was already gone.

You smiled lovingly, sipping at the water from the bottle that he had brought with him when he followed you. You felt so thankful to be with a man like Spencer, someone who looked after you and knew what you needed when you needed it. You loved Spencer Reid, you realized, and you would tell him as soon as he came back.

-----

Part II (?)

A/N: Wow, this was the longest single-shot fic I've written! It sort of was just at the tips of my fingers and wrote itself. I really love it and I hope you do, too! Please let me know if you'd like a part 2!

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[agentsoftie]

Can I get a Spencer Reid x Reader? Prompt: They are in like a relationship and the reader says I love you but Spencer doesnt say it back. She is fine with that because she just wants Spence to know that she loves him no matter what. And later on he wants to say it but the words wont come out. I kinda want an angst fic but like Idk want their relationship to end. So maybe like some flangst?

yes yes yes yes yes 😌 added 💗

[spncvr]

HIII I kinda suck at writing so maybe you could take my idea and use your amazing writing skills and make something of it? (Only if you want ofc!!) hear me out yk how Spencer rambles about random facts and everything at the bau imagine if he had a partner (was a profiler as well) and that knew a lot about musics or movies and would ramble about it to him?

Ignore this if it sounds stupid 😭

rambles | s. reid

summary: you talk a lot, spencer doesn't mind.

pairing: spencer reid x reader

warnings: okay so idk if this counts as gn!reader?? but reader wears a dress lol. drinking, and again my terrible english,, lmk if i missed anything!

a/n: hey beautiful!! this deffo does not sound stupid i had fun writing it but this is so bad im sorry i didn't do u justice *crying emoji* also im so sorry this took me forever to finish LMAOOO

masterlist

YOU CAN FEEL it.

In your spine, in your ears. The song’s quiet but it had you in its grip, tight and firm—music’s always been like that to you. It didn’t matter if it was Hendrix, Queen or even Chopin; it has always been the one thing to make you stop dead at your feet. It’s a feeling you can’t quite put your finger on. There wasn’t a word in the English language that could possibly describe how it made you feel. Perhaps, you think humorously, you ought to learn another language, or two. 

You’re wearing this dress. This sweet, white silk thing that sweeps against your knees each time you take a step. The taste of expensive wine sits against your lips, lingering. The glass rests idly around your hand and your grip is careful. Expensive red wine and a cheap dress don't usually mix well together. 

“You okay?” 

You smile, teeth and all. Spencer who’s found his place next to you, furrows his eyebrows worry painted against his soft features. He looks tired. But he’s here, with the rest of the team; he always is.

“Fine,” you say, blasé. “You, Dr. Reid?”

His eyebrows raise slightly, “Yeah, fine.” then, “nice dress.” It’s a small whisper. 

You brush your tongue against the wine on your lips. The comment catches you off guard—especially when he’s dressed like this and looks at you like that. So, all that leaves your wine-stained lips is a small: “Oh.” then, because you remember your manners you say, “Thank you.”

The song changes, and Spencer smiles, “The songs—” he says “they’re nice.”

“I—” You stop yourself from rambling because really, they’re more than nice. It’s Elle Fitzgerald. She’s—Her voice, her instrument is clear as a bell, with diction that’s almost impossible to misunderstand. Her rhythm is— well it’s, you can set her as the metronome for her own band. Which, well, isn’t exactly easy to do. The way she’s able to scoop and bend her pitches with such precision is, beyond, nice. So the song, really it’s, more than nice, it’s a masterpiece it’s—

“Uh, yeah, s’nice.” you pause, “More than nice, really.”

Spencer smiles, amused, “More than nice?” he echoes.

You clear your throat, “It— yeah. I mean, it’s Fitzgerald, you know…”

“I don’t know,” he says simply.

Figures, you think. “No, yeah. She’s, like, got this tone in her voice, you know? And it’s like she’s the one leading the band— with the rhythm, I mean. As in like, instead of the drummer, which isn’t exactly easy to do. You know, actually, some people say she — she’s got the voice of an angel. Or something along the lines; can’t really remember and—” you pause, slightly embarrassed at how much you’ve been talking.

“Er, sorry,” you mumble sheepishly. The edge of your shoes had suddenly become increasingly interesting. “didn’t mean to go on a tangent.”

Spencer kisses his teeth, and you look up to find him grinning. “No, uh,” he scratches the edge of his eyebrow. “You don’t need to apologize for talking about something you like.” He seems to think about his next words as he brushes his hand against your arm. It sends a shiver that lingers longer than the touch itself. Spencer Reid could be so cruel sometimes. 

“I love listening to you talk.”

Your dress ends up wine-stained, anyway.

as usual my inbox is always open for requests (or just to talk lol) but it will take 192374 years to actually finish it,, reblogs are soo appreciated !! (u guys r always so kind idk why im asking for them) so is feedback btw!! (despretely in need of some)

[kaylasficrecs]

spencer reid recs - part 2

heartbeat | one shot, flangst | @theonewiththefanfics

red lipstick kisses | imagine, fluff | @ddejavvu

a real headscratcher | one shot, fluff | @bippot

fail an altercation | imagine, angsty flangst | @railingsofsorrow

11:34 pm | imagine, fluff | @morehotch

wingteam | imagine, fluff | @sailortongue

all you want to do is smooch | imagine, fluff | @tinyluvs

calls you a pet name | drabble, fluff | @moonstruckme

falling for you | imagine, fluff | @sofiareidings

we'll be alright | one shot, flangst (lots of angst) | @unseededtoast

you're on your own kid | imagine, flangst | deactivated blog

buried alive | series | @pathologicalreid

wrapped around your finger | imagine, angry fluff | @dr-spencer-reids-queen

incessant insomnia | imagine, flangst | @reiding-writing

things we bury | series | @parkerslatte

love potion | imagine, fluff | @foxy-eva

girlfriend interrupted | imagine, flangst, comfort | @actually-safer-to-kiss

dedicated to new lovers | series | @sweatervest-obsessed

a very strange night | series | @reidreaders

stick season | two shot, angst | @sweatervest-obsessed

different kinds of nerds | imagine, fluff | @moonstruckme

sleeping on the jet | drabble, fluff | @golden1u5t

through a withdrawal | imagine, flangst, comfort | @reiderwriter

a secret from morgan | imagine, fluff | @tweedlydumbtweedlydoo

flustered with nicknames | imagine, fluff | @tweedlydumbtweedlydoo

sparks fly | series | @avis-writeshq

bookworms | drabble, fluff | @little-miss-dilf-lover

carriage six | two shot, fluff | @avis-writeshq

secretly mine | imagine, fluff (some angst) | @actually-safer-to-kiss

the archer | one shot, angst | @pathologicalreid (tw)

that day in the café | imagine, flangst | @the-au-thor (tw)

coping mechanism | imagine, fluff | @veryberryjelly

secret's out | one shot, flangst | @the-bau-quinjet

broke my heart | one shot, flangst (more angst) | @darnittumbleweed

heart's desire | one shot, flangst | @waywardxrhea

roommate remembering his birthday | imagine, fluff | @luveline

shouldn't i want you? | imagine, flangst | @weird-is-life

rather ardently | one shot, angsty flangst | @reidscanehand

because i love you | imagine, flangst (more fluff) | @atlabeth

a shared heart | imagine, fluff | @benedictscanvas

epiphany | imagine, angst | @pathologicalreid (tw)

can you come get me? | one shot, angst | @pathologicalreid

galileo | series | @write-orflight

on your own | two shot, angst | @g0dlyunsub

be my angel | imagine, flangst | @nereidprinc3ss

beach day | two shot, fluff | @benevolentbones

in every other life | one shot, flangst (more fluff) | @irndad

forgiven | one shot, flangst | @reiding-writing

be so stupid | imagine, flangst | @mariasont

warm you | imagine, flangst | @g0dlyunsub

[pathologicalreid]

hi!!! totally up to you if you want to write it (it maybe too self indulgent ahhhhh). but i was think of bau!reader (or bau!adjacent) who has known spencer for forever and has watched him "glow up"/become more confident and is now dating him, but is now more self-conscious that he will realize that he is totally out of her league since women are now hitting on him all the time and he is able to basically flip men in the field. something like that if you get the vibe? just a girlfriend who is worried her boyfriend will outgrow her and is scared they'll breakup. feel free to ignore! love your work sm!!!

a league of your own | S.R.

as your boyfriend seemingly evolves, you grow increasingly aware of the feeling of being left behind

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: flangst (heavy on the fluff, more like internalized angst) content warnings: in a bar but neither spencer nor reader are drinking, follows the events of 14x12 "hamelin", discusses the pronunciation of asmr word count: 1.4k a/n: self conscious reader is so important to me. this is for everyone who has a hard time naming their feelings. thank you for requesting!!

“He flipped him over the table?” You asked, raising your eyebrows as you looked up at Tara, who was talking about your boyfriend’s maneuvering of Arthur Brodie in the field. In passing, you had heard about the mark left on the suspect’s forehead, but you hadn’t heard the story of how he had gotten it – until now.

Bringing her cup to her lips, Tara nodded at you, her expression clarifying that it was as impressive as it sounded. You sighed at the newest addition to Spencer’s ever-evolving personality, it was hard not to think of them as grievances against you, but that’s what it felt like.

You looked over your shoulder to the bar, trying to scope out where he had disappeared to before you spotted a familiar mess of brown curls. From where you were standing, you could see him holding two drinks in his hands, but it wasn’t until he shifted his stance that you saw the girl that he was speaking with. “And that’s three,” Luke observed, shaking his head in disbelief as he watched the same scene as you.

Emily asked what he was talking about, but you tuned them out as you watched the interaction. You already knew this was the third woman to hit on him since the team entered the bar thirty minutes ago.

There was no mistaking it, your boyfriend was easy on the eyes, and you weren’t naïve enough to try to deny that fact. Still, you were having a hard time adjusting to seeing him garner exponentially more attention from people at the bar. “You better go get your man, or she might steal him away from you,” Luke taunted, nodding his head in the direction of the bar.

“What?” Your head snapped back in the direction of the bar, eyes wide as you peered across the bar where Spencer was talking animatedly to the blonde in front of him before he looked behind himself and gestured to you, prompting you to wave timidly at the both of them.

The girl sneered in your direction before spinning on her heel and trudging away, freeing your boyfriend to return to you at the table. “They didn’t have any limes, so they put a lemon in your Shirley Temple,” Spencer said apologetically, dropping a kiss on the part of your hair as he set the glass in front of you.

Shaking your head, you smiled up at him, “That’s fine, thank you.” You told him, placing your hand on the glass and spinning it to better access the straw.

If he noticed anything odd, he didn’t comment on it, instead deciding to contribute to Tara and Rossi’s conversation on ASMR.

As the team continued to chat around you, you just continued spinning your glass on the oak table, becoming more and more conscious of the way your thighs stuck to the leather booth. Your eyes only flicked up when you noticed people staring at you, “What?” You asked, heart racing as you had been caught daydreaming.

The five remaining members of your team at the table were all looking at you with similar curious looks, “Rossi’s headed out. He was just saying goodbye,” Penelope said, reaching across the table and awkwardly patting your hand.

“Oh,” you responded meekly, “Have a good night. Tell Krystall I said hi.” You shifted in your seat, the sound of your legs unsticking from the seat seemingly amplified tenfold in your self-conscious state.

As Dave made his way out, Spencer gestured for you to move over so he could sit next to you. Tara got up to get in line for the restroom and Luke and Garcia weaseled their way into one of their patented bickering matches, you nearly jumped when you felt Spencer’s hand settle on your thigh. “Alright,” he muttered, turning his head to you, “What’s up with you tonight?”

Frowning, you looked up at Spencer, brown eyes studying your face as he hunted for even the slightest hint of what had gotten into you. The only problem was you didn’t have a name for it yourself. It could be perceived as jealousy, but you weren’t concerned with anyone actually taking Spencer’s attention away from you, you were just feeling feelings. Unnamable feelings.

You brought your glass closer to you, the condensation being a welcome relief on your warm skin, pinching the straw as you took a sip of your drink. “Nothing’s up,” you said, stirring the lemon wedge around in your glass.

“Are you sure? You look flushed,” he said, pursing his lips thoughtfully before he gently pushed his water in your direction.

Brushing off his concern, you turned your attention to watching Luke and Garcia in an animated discussion on how to pronounce ASMR – Penelope insisted she was right, and Luke didn’t necessarily care either way. You only moved your gaze when the blonde from earlier passed by again, dragging her palm over Spencer’s shoulder, causing him to lean into you.

Flustered, you took a long sip of your drink before setting it back down, “Can we go?” You asked Spencer, pressing your lips together in a thin line as you looked at him expectantly.

As he began to put puzzle pieces together, he nodded, standing up and gathering your glasses to set them on the bar. You said your goodbyes before leading the way out and flipping Luke off as he called out something about protection, something that would have previously left Spencer embarrassed and stammering, but now made him chuckle as he held the door open for you.

Part of you was grateful for this sort of evolution in Spencer, he was, after all, more confident in every aspect of his life. Now waiting for the metro, you looked at him, longer hair, his work shirt unbuttoned at the top and pushed up to his elbows. The light breeze in the tunnel moved his hair as he crossed his arms in front of his chest, “Are you alright, love?”

Your shoulders drooped helplessly at the pet name, “You shoved a guy on a table?”

His face fell, “Is that what this is about? Me using force against a suspect?”

Quickly, you shook your head, “No, no. He pushed Tara, it’s not that at all,” you scrambled to reassure him, knowing he was afraid that his time in federal prison had made him a violent person. “It’s just… you shoved a guy onto a picnic table and you’re getting hit on by people in bars and you’re dressing differently and I’m just… me.” You hold your hands out as if you’re on display, looking down at the sundress you had thrown on and the sneakers you wore for comfort instead of style.

“Are you jealous that I’m getting attention from other people?” He asked, “Because I’ve never encouraged anyone.” That was true, last week a deputy sheriff had made a move on your boyfriend, and the only thing he had gotten in return was an earful on how you had made the deduction that eventually solved the case.

Bowing your head, you regretted ever saying anything in the first place, “No,” you groaned, “What’s that term for someone who can’t name their emotions? That’s me. Right now. At this moment.”

Spencer chuckled at your frustration, “It’s called alexithymia, and there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“I’ve watched you change in front of my very own eyes in the last year, and I guess I’m just feeling left behind,” you admitted. “You’re a changed person and there’s nothing different about me.”

He tilted his head to the side curiously, “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything,” you said desperately, hoping to get to the bottom of your conflicting emotions.

“Did you love me before?”

You froze, looking up at him, “Of course.”

He raised his eyebrows, reaching out and tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, “And you love me now?”

Nodding, you stepped closer to him, “Very much so.”

“Then there’s nothing else I could possibly ask of you,” he told you, smiling as you blushed. “You don’t need to change in time with me, and – since we’re being honest – I’ve always felt like I’m the one lagging behind you. So, maybe I’ve just been playing catch-up.”

You frowned, moving even closer to him as the platform grew crowded, “Well, now I feel ridiculous.”

“Not ridiculous,” he murmured, “Just human,” Spencer amended.