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cafeacademia · 2 years

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𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧

𝐒𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐑𝐞𝐢𝐝 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: When the Quantico office expands their library and introduces a new librarian, Spencer is immediately taken with her. But when she gets perhaps a little too curious about Spencer and is reading tastes, she turns to Penelope for help finding his goodreads...

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: A bit of confident!Spencer, Penelope sneaks around to find Spencer's socials, literally the rest is fluff, flirting and books.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: Approx 1.7k (this was supposed to be a tiny drabble oops)

𝐌𝐲 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: Hello!! This was supposed to just be a little small drabble for my celebration, but I got a little bit carried away 😳 anyway, I hope you enjoy it and it lives up to the request sent in by @reidsbookclub!! 💕 Feel free to join in and send me some asks or requests for my celebration!

Spencer was all too happy the second it was announced that the library in the Quantico office was receiving an upgrade. Instead of just housing books beneficial to cases and archiving, it was going to have an entirely new section, created for recreational reading to help relieve workplace stress.

For Spencer it was not just a matter of relieving stress that the library did for him, but rather more of a sense of belonging. It was not only the books that made him feel like he belonged, nor was it the heaps of archived articles, readings, lectures and every scrap of information contained within the library. It was you.

Along with the upgrade, the office had added a new librarian and that just so happened to be you. The old librarian had retired and perhaps it had been a blessing in disguise because she had been a rather unfriendly person to nearly everyone that entered the library. You however, were a breath of fresh air.

Oh how Spencer adored coming through the library doors to be greeted with a sweet and smiley “Hello, Doctor Reid.”, Spencer loved the way his name sounded on your lips.

Spencer even began to wonder if some of his impromptu visits to the library were actually not for the books at all and were purely so that he could get a moment just to talk to you - this tended to occur after the end of a case and Spencer maintained, only to himself, that you were certainly a sight for sore eyes.

But as much as he knew his own attraction to you, he had absolutely no idea that those sweet smiles and little chats between the bookshelves were reserved only for him. Naturally, it seemed like everyone else knew.

Spencer recommended all of the books that he thought other people would be interested in, but there were times that you wondered what his real reading interests were. It was hard to tell with him, he read so much and so fast that he expanded his pool of interests as wide as it could possibly go. So, one morning while the team was heading out to another state to work on a case, you cornered Penelope when she inevitably made her way into the library for some light hearted romance to try and keep her mind away from the gruesome side of her job.

“Pen,” You approached her as she stopped in front of the romance shelf. Perhaps it had been a bit silly, but you did enjoy decorating the different fiction shelves according to their genre. Apparently some of the agents had made fun of your decorations, but Hotch and Spencer both reassured you that it was appreciated and made the room a lot more comforting and welcoming. Spencer even maintained that the people that didn’t like your decor probably didn’t read either.

“There you are!” Penelope lit up with a huge smile once she saw you. “I was hoping you’d be able to recommend a good romance for this week.” “Of course, but only if you help me out a little too.” You wagered and Penelope glanced at you, her smile turning into a rather sly smirk, catching onto your mischievous tone. “Alright I’ll bite, name your price sweetpea.”

Looking around you both just to make sure that there wasn’t anyone else around, you suddenly became very shy. Oh this was going to be much more difficult than you had anticipated. “Um-.” “This is about our boy wonder, isn’t it?” If you had been drinking anything, you would have choked on it. “Well, yes?” You cringed at your own awkwardness. “I just wondered if you knew if he had anything like a bookstagram or a goodreads or something.” You trailed off, words becoming more disjointed the more you spoke and Penelope’s expression softened. “You’ve come to the right person, I’m the queen of many things and digging up social medias is one of them.” She said with a proud smile. “I’ll be right back, find me a book and I’ll give you whatever I find.” You grinned to yourself as she rushed off, saying something about “oh to be cupid’s loyal assistant” on the way out.

You busied yourself with finding a nice romance for Penelope, which you eventually decided on The Flatshare by Beth O’Leary. Barely any time had passed before your friend came bustling back into the library with a small note between her fingers, poised in the air like she was carrying some kind of top secret note meant for Hotch.

“Keep this safe, do not tell Spencer who you got this from because I guarantee he will know it’s you snooping on his social media.” She winked at you. “Unless you want to get caught.” She giggled to herself, passing you the note.

You thanked her profusely the whole way through scanning her library card and stamping her book for her until she left the library. And as soon as the doors were closed and the library was empty again, you grabbed your phone and the folded note that Penelope had left for you.

Spencer surprised you. Not only did he have a goodreads, on which his username was goodreids, which raised a snort of amusement from you, but he also had a bookstagram and a pinterest. To say that you spent the better part of the week scrolling through his socials was an understatement. But being the librarian had its perks, one of them being that you could take out any book you wanted at any time and keep it for however long you wanted.

Upon your first investigation into Spencer’s goodreads, you found that he enjoyed more than just science fiction and mystery in his casual favourites. He also seemed to enjoy some classic romance, classic literature, gothic fiction and the list went on. It also looked like he had read Harry Potter and Sherlock Holmes a number of times and you wondered if they were his comfort reads. According to his reviews, he highly recommended The Big Sleep by Raymond Chandler. So, taking a browse through your own books, you dug the book out of the back of the library, checked it out on your card and read it during the quiet hours, the journey to and from work and the evenings until you finished it only a few days later. So you continued reading the series and by the time the team was due back, you had read the first three books in the series.

“Dr Reid, you’re back.” You said it rather more enthusiastically than perhaps you had intended, but Spencer greeted you with a grin and a soft, “Hey, how come you’re still here?” “Oh, you’re not pleased to see me?” You teased bashfully from behind your counter and Spencer just smiled and shook his head. “No, rather the contrary, actually. I missed this.” His words made your heart flutter and you realised that you’d have to make yourself talk otherwise he would think you were weird for staring right at him for more than a couple of seconds while looking stunned.

In your panic to say something, you managed to muster up the courage to string together a sentence, but it was not quite what you had intended to say. “I read that book you recommended.” You blurted it out and then immediately wished you could sink beneath the desk and out of sight. Spencer’s brow creased and he looked at you with slight confusion. “What do you mean?” He asked. What were you supposed to say? I asked Penelope to stalk you and find me your goodreads? No, better not mention Penelope at all. “I found your goodreads.” You admitted rather bashfully and Spencer smirked at you. “I know, you followed me.” He said and you looked at him like he’d just spoken absolute nonsense. “How did you know it was me?” You muttered. “Well I guessed from the- you know what I’ll tell you later, which book did you read?” He asked, changing the subject and you quite proudly held up a copy of The Big Sleep for him to see.

“Tell me what you thought of it.” Spencer said, propping his chin up on his hand, elbow leaning on your desk. There was a look in his eyes that just looked so genuine. This was probably the most attentive you had ever seen him around someone and it made you falter as you struggled to get out the words properly. “I have a better idea.” Spencer suddenly lit up. “It’s late, I’m pretty sure you stayed here so late just to catch me before I went home because you knew I’d come here.” The brutality of the truth almost felt like he’d ripped the bandage off. “So why don’t we go for a coffee date tomorrow and you can tell me all about what you thought of those books.” He said. “Date?” You asked, almost dumbly. “If that’s what you want it to be.” Spencer nodded. “I’d love that, Dr Reid-.” “I’m Spencer to you, sweetheart.” He smirked. He looked like even he was surprised by his own line, but he maintained a cool expression.

“I’d love that, Spencer.” “Then I’ll see you in the morning, I’ll text you.” And with that he looked down on your desk, picked up the paper that Penelope had given you and without any questions, he wrote his number down next to his socials. He definitely knew it had been Penelope. But that didn’t matter now, you felt like you were about to combust on the spot. “Text me when you get home safely.” “I will, Spencer.” You agreed. “Good girl.” And with that, Spencer pushed away from your desk and made his way out of the library, leaving you to squirm and swoon in the privacy of your library.

You had never felt so stunned by a single man in your entire life.

@magicchai @russian-potatoes @hallecarey1 @alexxavicry

#spencer reid x reader #spencer x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #dr spencer reid x reader #dr spencer reid x you #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid reader insert

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spenceriswriting · 2 years

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a special gift

spencer reid x fem! reader

summary ;

a gift for the birthday boy!! happy 41 spence <3

warnings ;

smut

You were close, way too close. Clenching, heavy breathes, slowing movements, he knew this as well. “You gonna cum for me?” The soft traces of his lips danced delicately on your skin, peppered kisses wrapped around the neck, you bit your lip, eyes fluttered shut and your toes curled at the feeling that tranced your whole body.

A single gasp was all that you needed to let loose before you were collapsing against Spencer. Chest against chest, face buried into the warm flesh of his neck, you were burning. The churning in the depths of your stomach were ablaze, the last coil snapped and you were on fire. “Fuck! Oh — I’m cumming, I’m cu-“

Nails racked softly in his hair, grabbing onto the locks when small bursts of your orgasm hit. A gasp here and there, you breathed in his sweat in every sharp inhale, damp babyhairs stick to your flushed face, humidity hit you instantly and all you could feel was Spencer’s calloused fingertips feathering on your spine, coaxing you, overstimulating — And you loved every second of this bliss.

A few more mummers slipped from Spencer’s lips before he let go. A slight arch in his back with eyes fluttering shut. A sight to admire.

“Happy Birthday, Spence.”

#cm fic #cm imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds reid #gublernation #spencer reid x reader #spencer x you #spencer reid reader insert #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid smut #spencer reid imagine

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tweedlydumbtweedlydoo · 2 years

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Hostage Situation | Spencer Reid x reader

Requested by anon / Summary: Spencer is protective over his team, especially you and when a rookie officer decides to test his the water with you, Spencer steps in.

A/N: Okay so I don’t know if this was a request or if I had wrote this on my own?? I can’t find the request but i have it was requested by anon on my list. If so, i hope you enjoy x

Tag list is at the end. Let me know if you want to be added xx

Go follow my fic rec blog! ---> @imaginationgonewild0912

**MASTERLIST**

Requests: {OPEN} closed

** Rules for Requesting **

** Who I Write For **

********************************************************************************************NOT MY GIF, CREDIT TO OWNERS

Spencer’s self doubt and self consciousness rose as he saw you’d caught the eye of who he’d say was a particular handsome specimen and was what your type had been in the past. The man was tall, broad shoulders and by the looks of how tight his uniform shirt was, he was rather fit. He was leaned against his desk chewing a piece of gum and a small note pad in his hand, ready to hear the profile you would soon deliver.

This man was the complete opposite of Spencer. Spencer glanced at his tie, running it through his fingers. Seriously Spencer? a tie? He asks himself. He mentally criticizes his wardrobe choice as the rest of the team takes their place, you taking your usual spot by his side.

He watched as the talk dark and handsome officer whispered something to his partner, smirking at you and his partner nodded in agreement. Spencer clears his throat and slips his hands in his pocket as his thoughts swirl. He didn’t deserve someone like you.

As you begin to give the profile to the officers, some nod, listening intently and take notes. You make it only half way before the officer speaks up, raising his hand, “I’m sorry, can you repeat what you said we should look for?”

You give your team the side eye, “Yeah so you all-”

“I was a bit distracted by how beautiful your voice is.”

Spencer could tell by the look on your face, you weren’t impressed, but more annoyed than anything and growing impatient at the time even wasted on this short conversation. This was a time sensitive case and you had no time to deal with officers on their high horse.

“This is a time sensitive case and we have been asked by your chief to help and she has given us full reign. Including over her officers. So, I’m more than capable of kicking you off this case if you decide being a bloke is more important than the 5 year old girl missing.”

A surge of pride rolled through him. That. That was the woman he’d fallen for. You wouldn’t take any shit from anyone. You stood your ground tall and strong, even if the other side towered over you by feet. The feelings of self doubt slide off him like water over plastic. This wasn’t the type of guy you were into anymore.

He and the rest of the team had to hide their laughs with a cough. Some of the other officers let out a chuckle. Spencer cleared his throat, a smile on his lips, which he tried to cover with his fingers.

The guy blushed a deep shade of red, full of embarrassment. He wasn’t one to be shown up; especially by a young woman.

“Right, well, like she said, everyone has their jobs.” Rossi steps in and soon the place clears out.

It had been a long day. The leads you all had been following were dead ends and at the moment, you were lost. No idea where to begin the search. You take a deep breath and lean against the break room counter. You and your team were exhausted and the time to save the little girl was running out. 24 hours is the usual cut off and if you haven’t found her by then, the odds decline tremendously.

“You good?”

You glance up to see Spencer approaching you. “Yeah,” You sighed, “Just tired.”

“Coffee?” he motions to the coffee maker, “I’ll make some fresh.”

You nod, “I think we’re going to need it.” You turn around and lean against your elbows, your forehead resting in your hands, “We’re running out of time.”

“Garcia’s working on a lead now-” Before Spencer could even finish his sentence, Rossi called in everyone. There was a break in the case and a new solid lead to follow.

“sorry about the coffee.” Spencer apologizes as he follows you out of the break room.

“Make it up to me later?” You tease, “Maybe you could buy me a cup of coffee after this case was over?” You suggest, “I really like-”

“Brooklyn on Main, iced caramel latte. extra caramel” Spencer finishes with a small grin. He knew your order by heart.

You nod, impressed with a small smile on your face as you enter the SUV.

When you and the team arrive at the old building, the officers are standing by, ready for the instructions.

You and the rest of the team tighten your vests in place and instruct the officers to stay behind you and the team. They are to follow strict orders and do things your way or else it could end in disaster.

The rookie cop was the first to speak up against the orders, “Why can’t we storm the place? Surround it, shoot the guy and save the girl.”

“We have no confirmation the girl is even in there with him. She could be at a secondary location and killing him could put her in danger. We wouldn’t have any idea where she could be.” JJ tell him.

You can see on his face he doesn’t approve of the orders, “He’s to be taken in a live. Everyone understand?”

The officers agree and begin following you and your team inside. That’s when everything went wrong. There was gun fire everywhere. There was more than one person like expected and soon bullets were flying from every angle.

Trying to escape the rookie cop trampled you, sending you flying into a room where the bullets were then aimed at you. You’d hit your head in the fall and couldn’t ground yourself as the world spun. Before you could react, someone had grabbed your foot and was dragging you across the cement floor.

When your eyes finally adjust, standing above you is two men with very large guns aimed at you. You were in deep deep trouble.

Spencer had seen the whole thing go down and before he could get to you, the team grabbed him and retreated out of the house, outnumbered and unprepared. “Stop! Stop! Y/n’s still in there!” He tried to protest but the ones that grabbed him had won.

“Where is agent y/n?” Rossi asks, looking back toward the building and at Spencer.

Spencer fills with anger and rage as he sees the Rookie cop, the one who had pushed you into the line of fire. “What the hell is wrong with you!” He stormed the man, grabbing him by his vest and throwing him against the nearby van, “You threw her into the line of fire!”

“What? Dude are you crazy, let me go!”

“She could be dead because of you!” Spencer yells. Rossi and JJ grab Spencer, “Spence calm down!”

“You’re psycho man! She was shot!” The rookie tries to defend himself with a lie, “I saw her go down!”

“no. she wasn’t, you pushed her to get out of the way, I saw it happen.” Rossi practically drags Spencer away, “Spencer, talk to us, what happened?”

“The coward pushed her to get out of the way so he could get out of there, but he pushed her right into the line of fire. Into the room where they were” Spencer tells Rossi and JJ, and now Emily who has just approached.

“He said she was shot, she went down.” Rossi says.

“No, Rossi. I watched it happen with my own eyes.”

Rossi knows you’re a great agent and knows Spencer wouldn’t lie. If Spencer saw it happen, then it happened. And that’s one of his agents in there. No agent would be left behind. “Damn it.” Rossi looks to the building, knowing the situation they are now in.

Emily catches on as well, “We now have a hostage situation.”

Comments likes and reblogs are always appreciated Thanks for reading! xx

#spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid imagines #spencer reid x #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid reader insert #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x reader fic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #Spencer Reid fic #criminal minds fanfic #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #criminal minds fic #criminal minds imagines #criminal minds imagine

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alloftheimaginess · 2 years

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Let me know who else you want to see and I’ll do it

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statticscribbles · 2 years

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❤️ Spencer Reid x Male reader

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❤️- Romantic Scene

“So Spence you dragged me away from the team; after a debrief where we were supposed to get Pizza because???” You chuckle a little when he wraps his arms around you.

“I wanted some time with you to myself.”

“We spend all week together!”

“Mhm, on a job; I want to just take time to relax with you.. which is why...” he grins holding out an envelope to you.

“You got me another job?” You laugh, the envelope matching the one Hotch usually gives you on briefs.

“Hah, no just open it okay?”

“Alrighty, is this... tickets for a plane? A vacation?”

“Mhm to visit-” Spencer doesn’t finish you’ve read the destination and you jump into his arms laughing and spinning him around as best you can with how excited you are.

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mayoanddelight · 2 years

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Everything's not Lost.

Spencer Reid x BAU GN!Reader

Summary: A navigation error makes it easier for Spencer to navigate who he truly may be.

W.C: 3.9k

C.W: Mentions of the Reader being an amputee as well as having a Pakistani ethnic background. Angst rolled in fluff. Self deprecating thoughts. Mentions of Spencer’s school life. Panic attack and Pranks as well as Over thinking(?)

Masterlist

This is for the one and only lovely Lynn's 600 writing challenge! Hope you enjoy it.. I wrote it haphazardly 💀 @lovely-lynn-writes

A few warnings though: Firstly I haven't written for a while (Ikzams) so..don't expect much ;-;. Secondly, this could be taken as a platonic relationship or a start to a romantic one. That's entirely upto how y'all want to interpret it. Lastly, I'm no expert with Panic Attacks, I followed whatever was on the Internet.

What's the difference between standing out or blending in? Both, by context, can be compared with the safety net it eludes. People mostly prefer to stand out then blend in, wanting a unique and distinctive attribute to let the world know who they are. Might it be their quirky sense of style or their rowdy persona, to attract attention. But in the end they lose the touch of reality in the pleasure of the people around them—to look through a glass and see a reflection of not what you see yourself as but of what others do. To live for those around you but never for yourself, drowning in the inevitable duty you took on regardless of the inescapable cost it carried.

Outside of the vast majority of the oddities perceived as confidence, Spencer always preferred to blend in, an ability that never seemed to grace itself to him. Dashing away from him in the form of eyes that could never forget and intellect that was greater than most, a curse that stuck by him like a chewed up gum that he stepped upon. Sticking by him until it formed into an identity, much to his displeasure. Standing out for his young age during high school and his unusually high IQ, regardless of how he tried to fit in. From mimicking (trying and failing) the actions of his peer group to drinking coffee, nothing ever worked. Rewarded with endless tears poured late at night under the cold laughs of the people he wanted to befriend. Yet all of it was unknown to his mother who was lost in a fragmented reality of constant paranoia, breaking the only recognition of who her son was. So he only welcomed the bittersweet yet unhealthy habit of coping through just a slurp of his now favorite drink to ease the permanent tragedy he called his life.

Though his cries for a source of normalcy in life was never granted, it was partially soothed by the people he considered to be his family. Though not fully accepted for who he was, they had seemed to love him for himself without any force of blood ties but because they chose to do so. But he was never fully happy with them, in the process of shielding himself from the pain his co-workers—his family—could’ve caused, he stifled the very means of being real to himself, much less to others. To become bearable to others, he forced himself into a cocoon revolving around small facts and never his feelings. Coating itself with another layer when his loved ones left him stranded in false hope.

But none of it mattered, his feelings didn’t matter. He learned that as a child, knowing his father would leave him, no amount of hugs or carefully crafted cards made him stay. Full acceptance is never acquired so he’d make do with what he had. Creating a routine of conscious and deliberate actions to make the handful of remaining people he loved stay. Not for him, but by the feeling of being wanted. At least by him. Going out of his way to help Derek to move when he had to go visit his mother. Or writing one-sided letters to Elle that always remained unanswered. It didn’t always prove to be fruitful since one way or another, people decide to leave. No matter how hard he’ll try. As if he was trying yo save them from the unsubs but they’d manage to become a victim from their long list.

So to say Spencer didn’t like change was an understatement. Change brings heartbreak and heartbreak brings unwanted emotions. All of it acting like a never ending harsh cycle. Change would mean that the efforts he fought tooth and nail for failed. By this time Spencer should’ve given up this fools dream of trying to control the reality around him, treading lightly but with calculated steps to not alter the reality he feels comfortable in. But change was unpreventable, just like when Gideon and Elle fell off the face of the earth. Replacing two amazing agents and friends with complete strangers way too quickly. However, this time, change didn’t come as a replacement but as an additional member to the team. In the form of an agent that always smelt like chocolates.

The day he met them was like any other, with him following his daily routine of getting up early in the morning to buying a coffee from the cafe near his work. He was looking forward to catch up on some paperwork, making his way to his desk, inhaling the scent of papers and coffee. Oddly enough he felt at home in his workplace. But he froze, frowning at a new scent that attacked his nose. It wasn’t distinct but it wasn’t subtle either. As if he was hypnotized he walked towards the origin of the unfamiliar, each step he took made his heart flutter and fall. Up until a laugh, a giggle maybe, caught his attention. That one innocent giggle made him feel so lost, all of a sudden. It was as if everything he was trying to prevent came true.

That giggle meant someone had left without saying goodbye. He slowly trodded towards the break room, wanting both to get over with this dreadful moment and to drag it on. Stopping at the threshold he saw Morgan smiling widely towards the stranger. The feeling of betrayal bubbled in Spencer’s stomach, how could Morgan be smiling as widely when they had lost another agent to the vicious current life threw at them. Just as he was about to walk away from the hateful scene in front of him, someone had already announced his presence.

“Is everything alright, Spence?” JJ. A wave of relief left him, at least she was still here. That left Prentiss and Hotch. Glancing at the blonde woman, who gave him a worried yet motherly look. Compared to all of the team, he was closest to her, which also meant she knew him the best. Noticing he caught the attention of pretty much everyone in his surrounding, including the new agent, his nervousness grew. Shifting to his other leg as he toyed with his bag’s strap he managed to squeaked out a quick ‘yes’. Looking down at his shoes, he flexed his toes until he could calm down the overflow of thoughts and social awkwardness.

“Jennifer Jareau, but call me JJ” Shaking one another’s hands, the new agent with the distinct smell of chocolates—he finally realized—introduced themselves. Their left hand was fidgeting with their pants, maybe they were nervous as well. Their posture emitted the aura of confidence, standing tall with their chin up but it’s the small things that open the Pandora’s box of feelings. Nervousness could be battled with or show itself with a constant jittering of a body part. Like flexing your hands or twirling your hair. He could relate, suppression of it is a hard fleet as well.

“And this is our resident genius Doctor Spencer Reid” Alarmed at his name being called out, his eyes widened as his gaze whipped from observing the new agent to Morgan. Giving them his signature shy wave and tight smile. Noticing his way of greeting, they parroted his greeting.

“Pleasure to meet you Doctor Reid" And before long Prentiss came along carrying a killer hangover and some black shades to prove it. It was clear that a handful of people knew of the new agent, further evident by the way Prentiss flopped onto the chair and put her head down on the desk.

"Prentiss-" Immediately after JJ tried to inform her of the arrival of the recent agent, she was cut off by a groan. Muttering something about it being too loud.

"And that's Emily Prentiss, our previous Rookie. The self proclaimed professional drinker" Prentiss pulled herself up only to glare at Morgan.

"Let me see you hold up a bottle of wine without getting a slight headache."

"Slight headache? Prentiss you're hungover!"

"I prefer it to be called Wine Flu" The playful banter would've (or interrogation) continued if only it wasn't for the alert pinging their phones. An alert signifying a case.

"Guess we have a case, Youngblood" Prentiss looked more alert than before. Might've been because of the upcoming case. "The sight isn't for the faint heart" She said leaning forward analysing them. Only stopping after JJ lightly smacked Prentiss on the back.

"Ow, JJ, I'm delicate!"

"Hotch will tho- Oh come on JJ!" This team was quite the group. The best mix of Chaotic and analytical, the best in town. They'll have fun here for sure, the new agent decided.

First impressions mattered. And his first impression of them had been completely wrong. The conserved yet confident person changed within weeks of the job. Might it be because they started to feel comfortable with the people they worked with or something else entirely. But the conserved manner had quickly switched into a more chaotic role. Case in point, Morgan and Coco (so they liked to be called) were amidst a prank war. No one knows how it started, all he knew it was a not so friendly prank battle.

The battle of Cocomo (their words, not his) had crossed many barriers. Forcing people—mainly Morgan and Coco—out of their comfort zones just as a collateral to the war. The first time it was Morgan's coffee cup that was sacrificed, the one Garcia bought for him, for which he retaliated with (because it was his baby girl's cup) was putting their stationery in Jello. Surprisingly, the thing they were most offended about was the lack of originality of that one.

"Morgan, we do not waste good jelly just to copy the office" Even though Coco and Spencer didn't talk much on one on basis, save for when they were solving cases, he couldn’t help but find them endearing. He didn’t know how, but they managed to break the impenetrable barrier to realism. Their wide smile and constant grin didn’t go unnoticed by him either. The feeling of envy grew, they managed to attain something Spencer himself was never able to.

Upon realizing the ugly feeling that grew against him, he shook the feeling off. In the moment of weakness he found a plate of cookies which looked enticing. Maybe it wasn't the best idea to steal a cookie while visiting a precinct that wasn't their own. But his love for dairy overpowered his self control he reached for a cookie. Chocolate Chip, he noticed. Just as he took a bite, he heard a loud screech

"NO!" He froze mid chew. Coco ran, stumbling through the way, their step uneven, but they managed to reach him, though huffing for breath.

"Don't-" Their hands went to their knees still trying to catch their breath. Wanting to ask about their health, he wanted to quickly chew and swallow the cookie. Wanted was the keyword. The phrase looks can be deceiving has never worked more in this situation. The Cookie tasted nothing like the way it looked. It was indescribable. He glanced everywhere, searching for a tissue or a trashcan. But there was none—what kind of precinct doesn't keep a trashcan or tissues handy?—so he had to swallow that devil incarnation called a cookie.

"I tried to warn you" The look Spencer gave them was filled with pure betrayal. At least they had the decency to give him a guilty smile, offering him some milk which he gratefully accepted.

"That was meant for Morgan-"

"I hope there was no poison in that" Coco's eyes widened as they shook their head in denial. Trying to explain what they did to make such a piece of baked item. But it must've just been their luck when they saw Morgan entering the room.

"You tried to poison me?" His lips twitching watching the murder of a failed prank. Walking towards the plate of cookies, he smirked. "Failed cookies? Didn't know you played dirty."

"May the chocolate chip in your cookies always turn out to be raisins"

“As long they wouldn’t poison me” If looks could kill, Morgan would be 6 feet under the ground.

“Who’s poisoning who?” Spencer bit his tongue to repress the temptation to correct the only mate he has for film festivals. A pale blush formed upon coco’s cheeks, a telltale sign of embarrassment.

“Coco poisoning Morgan” Spencer replied, now it was Coco’s turn to give him a look a betrayal. Checkmate. What can he say? She brings a playful side out of him, as surprising as it was.

“I did not!”

“Well if you ever want to hide a body, you know who to call” Prentiss walked off, winking at Coco. Deliberately ignoring the offended ‘Hey!’ from Morgan.

“Seems like I have an ally” They teased “What is it now? Two against one?” Morgan narrowed his eyes at them and opened his mouth to respond but of course Hotch arrived at the very moment. Studying each team member before pinching the bridge of his nose and letting out a huff.

“Suit up, we have an address.” Just as Hotch stormed out of the room, The chaotic duo, the two halves of ‘Cocomo’ glanced at each other. A mutual agreement was passed, this was to be continued.

With a game of rock, paper, scissors (officially the decision of Hotch) The team was paired up to drive to the scene. JJ with Hotch, Prentiss with Morgan which made Spencer team up with Coco. Nothing out of the ordinary, only it was them alone. In a Car. With the keys given to him, questionable, but he gladly accepted. It wasn't a common fleet for him to get the car keys. He smiled internally as he marched towards the car.

"I'll Drive, You Navigate."

"But-"

"The most you could do for nearly killing me" This really was getting old for Coco. And they knew it would never stop.

"But I'll navigate us off a cliff!" Continuing their protest. Their navigating skills weren't for the part. Believe them. They didn’t get a job as a profiler based on their geographical skills. Not to mention the incident of the lonely cow comes to mind, leading their friend Charles to a farm where they found a lonely cow, named Charles as well. At least they weren't the joke of the day back then. But of course, Spencer ignored them or simply walked away before they could protest any further.

"Charlie here we come" Muttering under their breath as they stormed after Spencer.

There was a certain calmness associated with the systematic movement of something. Watching the vibrant trees pass by at the speed of the other. That dream of tranquility can never be gained when one was driving. For which, against all the odds, Coco was thankful for. But the anxiety associated with following a GPS could never be dialed down. No amount of delirium could ever change that.

"Turn right on the next cut" A frown was plastered on their face as they caressed the cloth of their pants. The rough yet partially smooth texture always seemed to calm them down in intense situations like this one.

Other than Coco guiding Spencer with the directions, there was complete silence. Silence, to Spencer, was like an old friend. Since silence never had the power to hurt you and words—especially his mother's—were always sharp as a knife. Twisting deep into his heart just because of a shattered thought. However, for Coco it was the complete opposite, having grown into a large family, noise was pretty much all of their past. So they tried humming to drown out the silence but it barely worked. So when Spencer’s voice cut their humming, it was greatly appreciated.

"Why Coco?" His question wasn't the most surprising one, they could see that he had been sitting on this question for a while now. Just didn't have the guts to ask. Which seemed typical for his personality. Regardless, a wave of nostalgia succumbed them, reminiscing of what used to be.

"From where I come from there was this brand of biscuits of sorts called Cocomo which I ate a lot as a child." They paused, now that they thought about it. It wasn’t that grand but it was theirs "My Baba pretty much called me such ever since and it caught on from there"

Maybe for them it wasn't great but the way Spencer smiled it felt like it was the they had the entire world handed to them. It wasn't envy this time, no. It was curiosity, a curiosity to delve into the mind of what it seemed to him was uncharted territory of the impossible. So no, not envy to the life they might've lived, possibly with a father that actually stayed when things got hard rather than leaving a broken family shattered to pieces beyond repair, nor was it their open personality adaptable to changes in life. When all Spencer could do was feel lost, deep in the roots of the unknown, curled up into a ball with no one to aid him. No one but himself.

"I'm gonna go on a limb here and say that you named the prank battle Cocomo for the same reason?" Giving Spencer a quick glance they let out an amused snort, shaking their head when Spencer gave them a questioning look. Oh if he knew. Poor Doctor would start stuttering. As a chain reaction, their left hand touched their left thigh. Lightly gripping it then promptly removing it.

“Essentially yes, and it was a good mix for the both of our names” Their gaze met with Spencer, his eyes were wide, but not with humour but with an odd mix of emotions: embarrassed, fear and confusion. Coco knew that if Spencer had not been driving the car, this would be the moment he'd start to fidget with his bag. Upon realizing that he saw their unconscious movement, they knew what was to come.

"OhmygoshIamsosorry!" This wasn't just an apology of a man feeling guilty but of one who feels that the world was about to crash and burn just because of an unintentional phrase he used. Something assuming that'll break the natural of order of their surroundings. A man who would be at fault of the dark corruption that could occur. His self esteem—despite the countless degrees and diploma—was cracked, they realized. He didn’t see himself the way others saw him. Believing that he carried the weight of the world all because of his extraordinary capabilities. And no amount of them telling him it was alright made it better.

"Dr Reid! ..Spencer, stop the car!" Their words weren't harsh but firm. His hands were trembling, and his eyes glazed, he wasn't in the state of mind to safely drive a car, for his own safety much less theirs. Fortunately, with his mental state he was still able park the car with little hindrance.

It was as if he couldn't breath. No matter how many times he inhaled or exhaled, it was never enough. His throat was closing up as he tried to grasp onto the loop of reality. Tranquility. Calmness. He vividly remembered what his Mother used to do to calm him down from a Panic attack, going over the traditional exercises to humming Mozart through the aftershocks. But there was no calmness here. Just disappointment. Disappointment towards himself and his situation. What would she say if she looked at him now? Would she have dropped everything to run him through this excruciating attack? Or would she give him the disappointed glare he was so used to seeing?

"-at me!" He was drowning, drowning in his own mind. In the various what ifs life could present. He couldn’t hear them, just partially as if they were talking in water. Mentally berating himself to focus, focus on anything to distract him from the deep fall of the dark abyss of over thinking.

Tears escaped his eyes, running down his cheeks as if they too wanted to sprint away from the desperation of his mind. Struggling to open his eyes, he saw Coco. Their eyes filled with concern and their lips moving slowly. Always in a similar motion.

"What? I don-" His voice sounded so weak. If he had enough mental capacity he would've cringed but he was beyond exhausted and in desperate need of some peace in mind.

"Spencer, I need you to look at me." He listened, though it was hard but the exercises helped. Their voice dragging him out of his mind into the world where they belonged. Inhaling after working through the aftershocks of the dreaded fall, their signature chocolate scent greeted him. Unlike last time, it was a scent he welcomed rather than comparing it with the downfall of his family. They only pulled away when they could see Spencer was more in his senses even if he had some difficulties in talking.

"How do you do it?" The silence they had maintained to give Spencer some quiet was broken from his abrupt question. Though they didn't get the question.

"Do what?"

"Being yourself. The good and bad.. I'm not saying you're bad! You're not bad-" a slight touch on his elbow snapped him out of the hole he was about to dig himself in. "Being who you are and being pleased with it. Making it seem so easy." They raised their eyebrows, not expecting a deep question like that.

"It's as simple as making boundaries, from just a simple no when you can't do something, stop letting your negative thoughts to overpower to what's positive because believe me Spencer there are many things to love about you, your kind nature, altruism and creativity that knows no bounds. All to letting go. Let go of the past, or at least try to let it go, because the past is a deadly weapon that freezes the mind but not the body. And time does little to help you." Thank you for coming to my Ted talk. Taking out their handy water bottle and taking a sip of water. Their throat dried up from the whole speech.

Silence had seemed to be the both of their friend this trip. Because, once again, they two were silent, but for entirely different reasons than awkwardness. It was the time Spencer had to take to process the kind words spoken to him.

"I know it's all hard to accept but we'll take it a day at a time" Coco knew, that it wouldn’t be that easy to induce a better mindset upon Spencer. But they'll sure as hell try, even if it takes years to instill. They were here to stay, which Spencer understood. They would stay for the real Spencer Reid.

But as sweet this moment was it all had to crash and fade as a realization hit.

"Ummm Coco?" Humming in response, they smiled at him. Oh how bad he felt to be the one to make it fade. He looked through the windows left and right before he spoke.

"..I don't know? But I'm pretty sure I saw a farm somewhere near"

"Coco."

"Yes?"

"It was a residential area." Even in this moment of panic, Spencer couldn't find himself to worry since walking through Uncharted territory didn’t feel as dreadful at that moment.

The curled up little boy finally had someone to hold his hand through the harsh rain pelting at him. Someone who rejected the notion of perfection and carried him out of the tides of fire called his mind. It finally felt nice to feel accepted after being lost in an unknown place for so long to finally being adored through his imperfections. Maybe he could do this. A step at a time against the raging world with a little peace every step of the way.

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moonflower-31 · 2 years

Text

Pen Pals - Spencer Reid x Reader

Part 1

Part 2!

Ongoing! (But slow updates, srry)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Warnings: Talk of being used for free labor? If that's anything?

A/N: Okay, guys, I got randomly inspired for this thing. Idk for sure about updates just yet, but I promise to get working on the next one for this and for IWFY. When inspo hits, it's gonna hit hard. So enjoy this! It's a bit longer than the last, but still. You'll get Spencer's next letter reply in the next installment. I'm also gonna start putting dates on their letters so we can follow along with the passage of time. Toodles!

Tags: @thatsonezesty13, @egg-boy03, @idjitlili, @meowiemari, @meganskane, @lonelyran, @rainsong01, let me know if I missed you or if you wanna be added to the list!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I remained too much inside my own head and ended up losing my mind.” - Edgar Allen Poe

The sun was blisteringly hot, as Ohio summers always were. This one was no different. Of course today of all days had to be the day your father had picked to start work on the farm. Leaving you no time to prepare for your incoming day of departure.

The past week or so had been…eventful, to say the least. After you’d graduated, you had hoped that maybe your parents would let up on some of their rules on studying. You had been right, but they were hellbent on you returning to school. Med school. Despite all the preparation you’d made for it, you weren’t quite sure you wanted to go through with your original plan. After all, it was your parent's dream. Not yours.

No matter the circumstance, the conversations you had with your parents always ended with them discussing when you would be applying for med school. Scratch that, the conversations you had with your mother, while your father just stared at you. His conversations only ever composed of farm work and how you should listen to your mother.

Now that you’d graduated, you didn’t know what to do. You were only 23. The sky’s the limit, as your bio-lab teacher, Mr. Underwood, would say. You just have to know when to jump.

Your only problem? You had absolutely no idea.

You reach up to your forehead, wiping off the sheen of sweat that had accumulated there. With a grunt, you forced yourself to lift the crate of feed bags your father had tasked you with carrying to the chicken coop. All morning you’d been working. From the minute Ronny, one of your family’s roosters, had woken you at dawn, you’d been hard at work with no breaks. Your father wouldn’t allow it even if you tried to ask.

“(Y/N)! Enough wastin’ around! That feed ain’t gonna move itself!” Abraham, your father, shouted from off in the distance. He was probably headed to his tractor to start the harvest. You internally groaned, the annoyance multiplied by the rare breeze blowing your hair into your face. This was why you usually wore your hair back, whatever the length. Your mother always insisted on having it long, though. The idea of cutting it was never up for debate. The longer your hair, the happier your mother was. Though you did dream of the day you’d escape the farm life and chop it all off. The look on your mother's face would be priceless.

“I’m not as strong as you dad! It’s gonna take me a bit.” You call back, grimacing as some of the wooden crate dug into your palms. You rearranged your hold, hoping to carry the weight in your legs if that made any sense.

Whatever it was you did, it helped. The burden of the crate’s weight was soon not as much an issue, and the crate was put beside the coop. The roar of the tractor made you internally wish you were something else. A fish or a bird, anything to get out of having to help your father carry the harvest to the barn where it would be put into more crates and then shipped out to be properly cleaned and made ready for people to buy at the grocery store. When the harvest day comes, you know to make yourself busy with a study group, or something. But school was not in session.

But then, as if the universe had heard your childish plea, you heard the backdoor swing open, and your mother call out to you. “(Y/N)! Could you go get the mail for me sweetheart?”

The task, simple and much easier than the task you knew was coming, you jumped at the chance to do something else. “Yeah! Sure Mom!” You called before your father could cry out in protest that your mother was taking away his free labor. He was already suggesting you go to med school online, so you didn’t have to move. More like he wanted you to stay so he didn’t have to cough up the money to hire farmhands.

Considering the amount of harvest your father’s farm produced every year, you and your father managed to get it all done somehow. Your family was well off in a way only a farmer’s family could be. But you knew that was only because they didn’t have to budget in a salary for helpers. Your father had wanted a son, as all men in your small town did, but unfortunately for him, you were the one and only child he was given. His brother, on the otherhand, had at least 6 boys. You’d lost count of how many facebook posts your aunt had made announcing another new ‘bundle of joy’. At least your mother’s sister knew her worth, and had decided to travel rather than to settle down and let a man control her life. You idolized her, and her gifts of international novels and special editions were everything.

You raced towards the mailbox, your mind soon travelling to the idea of a new package from said aunt. It had only been a month or two since her last parcel, but you could still dream!

Then you remembered your penpal letter you’d sent a few weeks prior. You wondered if it even got to it’s destination. People moved locations all the time. You hadn’t even stopped to consider that when you’d sent the damn thing. The thought that you could have a reply hadn’t crossed your mind at all since you’d graduated. Excitement quickly filled your bones and you raced faster down the hill towards the mailbox in the front of your family’s property closest to the road. You slowed your racing feet to a halt as you approached your family’s mailbox. The red flag was up!

An excited giggle erupted from your throat before you could catch it, making yourself pause and take a deep breath. There was no reason to get this excited over a response. Or over a present from your aunt. But the childish voice in your head quickly convinced you otherwise. You reached out with a grin, opening the box almost dramatically. To your triumph, there was indeed mail! But unfortunately, no package.

Only slightly disheartened, you grabbed the small stack of letters and started to look at the names of to whom they were addressed to. As you began to look, you started to head back up the hill towards your house, almost forgetting to close the mailbox.

The first envelope you looked at seemed to be an advertisement for a cruise. As if. It was addressed to your mother. Of course. She loved to dream. You put that one behind the rest and looked at the second. This one was addressed to your father, unfortunately. You then placed that one behind the previous and continued through the rest of the mail, almost losing hope that you’d be getting a response at all. Then, when all hope felt lost, and you had grabbed the handle to your front screen door, you glanced down at the last envelope. It was addressed to you!

With a dart of your eyes you checked the sender’s name, and your heart flipped as you read the name back as Dr. Spencer Reid.

Withholding the full extent of your excitement, you quickly opened the front door and grabbed your letter before dropping the rest on the dining room table.

“Thank you darling-” Your mother says sweetly, blinking in bewilderment as you run up the stairs to your room with an envelope in your hand. She raises an eyebrow, intrigued.

You close your door once you manage to slide into your room, racing over to your desk to open the small envelope. You pick up the letter opener your aunt had sent with the stationary and quite literally rip the thing open. At this action you take a brief pause. Maybe it was best that you calmed down a bit. You didn’t want your mother to get too curious.

After a deep breath, you open your eyes and pull the neatly folded paper from the now opened envelope. You place the envelope aside and open the letter. You read happily, entirely thrilled by the contents. So he was a doctor! Not a medical one, but neither were you! Your eyes continue to scale the letter up and down, your smile growing with each new fact. His IQ was impressive! And so was his reading speed. Not mention he was extremely well educated. Three PhDs? He really earned his right to be called a doctor.

So his address had changed. You were right. But it had somehow made it to him.

What fascinated you even more was his similar love for reading. Especially in another language. It was like you were meeting another version of you but, genderbent. Kinda.

Your eyes turned to the list of books the good doctor had left at the end of his letter. Your smile grew even wider, even though you already had over half of these books on your shelf already.

Sherlock Holmes - Sir Arthur Conan Doyle - (One of my personal favorites)

Beyond Good and Evil - Friedrich Nietzsche

The Illiad - Homer

The Raven and the Monkey’s Paw - Edgar Allen Poe

The Happiness Hypothesis - Jonathan Haidt

You smiled, happy to see your penpal enjoyed many of the same books and stories that you did. You read it over just once more before you decided it was time to put it away before your mother came in with the news that your father was asking for you. You searched your room for a moment, unsure of where to put the letter for safe keeping. Who knows? You may want to look back on them someday.

“I’ve gotta have something…” You mumble to yourself.

“(Y/N)? Honey? Did you get any mail?” You heard your mother’s voice suddenly call through the door to your room while accompanying a knock. A brief jolt of nervousness runs through you, worried if your mother found out about the letter she’d forbid you from sending another reply. Then you sighed with relief. You could just say it was a copy of your diploma.

“Yeah, just a copy of my diploma, mom.” You called back. Your mother seemed to accept it, not immediately doubting you.

“Mind if I come in?” Your mother asked suddenly. You felt your throat grow dry as your nerves rose again. It’s fine. You can hide the letter, you tell yourself. But where?

“Honey?” Your mother asks again, the doorknob slowly turning. In a panic, you open your nightstand drawer and shoved the letter inside along with the envelope. You turned back towards your mother, who now stood in your doorway facing you who stood in front of your nightstand. She blinked a few times, confused. There was no way she wasn’t suspicious now.

“Hey uh... Sorry. I was putting my diploma away. D-don’t need two versions of the same thing out and displayed, right?” You reply, mentally cursing your stutter. Again, your mother seems to buy your excuse, shaking her head and approaching you.

“I was just checking on you, honey. Did you need anything? I know you’ve been outside all day.” Your mother offered, reassuring you that she was merely curious. You hold back your sigh of relief, beginning to shake your head.

“No I don’t think there’s…” You begin, before you remember. “Wait, mom, do you still have that old jewelry box you wanted to give me a few years ago? The one with the hidden slots?” You begin. Your mother ponders your question for a moment, probably bewildered that of all things to ask for after a day in the hot sun, you ask for a family heirloom.

“I think so… why? Did you want it?” She asked, a slight tone of hope making your mother’s pitch rise. You quickly nodded, watching as your mother smiled and nodded back to you. “Alright, then I’ll go find it. Let me know if there’s anything else, okay?” Your mother walked back towards your bedroom door, making sure you knew you could ask her for anything you needed. Despite her shortcomings, she was your mother, and you loved her. Even if her views were slightly skewed.

“I know, Mom. I’ll be sure to ask if I need anything else.” You assure her, Almost pushing her out the door via the actual door. She sighed and stepped away from the doorway, smiling back at you tiredly.

“Alright sweetie. Just know your father is asking for you. I’ll leave the jewelry box on your desk.” Your mother informs and it takes every fiber of your being not to groan in frustration. Not getting out of it this time.

Without another word, your mother closes your door, and you’re left in your own excitement and annoyance. At least something good came of today.

—---

“Hey, pretty boy.”

Spencer lifted his head from his desk of reports, a little annoyed that his focus had been interrupted. His hazel eyes met the brown ones of Derek Morgan, a playful grin on his face. He didn’t reply, knowing Derek would soon tell him what he wanted anyway.

“Why don’t you come with Garcia, Prentiss, and me tonight? We’re celebrating a win.” Derek suggests. Spencer raises an eyebrow and shakes his head, a smile quickly finding its place on his face. As a side note, he did notice the lack of hair swinging into his face now that he’d gotten his hair cut. He didn’t hate it.

“I’ve worked with the three of you long enough to know that an ‘outing’ always leads to trouble. Largely, because it more than likely involves copious amounts of alcohol.” Reid replies, turning his focus back to his reports. He’d already almost finished them, as was his usual. Derek still had at least half the stack Reid had started with to get done. It gave Spencer a small twinge of pride.

Derek rolled his eyes. “Come on, man. You never wanna go out with us. Are we no fun for you?” Derek teased.

“No, it’s actually the fact that I have done the research and calculated the statistics to know that when alcohol is involved alongside you, the night will more than likely end with me in a back alley with sharpie on my face.” Spencer, without looking up from his reports, quickly fired back.

“Woah, when did this happen?” Emily’s voice suddenly entered the conversation, her figure taking a seat at her desk. Her voice hinted with amusement, alerting Reid to the fact that she was also teasing. He wasn’t going to risk misunderstanding verbal and nonverbal cues again.

Spencer lifted his head, himself slightly amused. “October 23rd of last year Morgan had the brilliant idea to take me out as a ‘birthday present’ rather than just buying a book as he’d done before. I woke up in the middle of the night with sharpie drawn on my face and ditched in the back alley behind the bar. Morgan had already gone home!” Spencer regaled, pulling a smile from the man in question as he slightly spun in his chair while twirling his pen. Emily widened her eyes and huffed out a laugh.

“Okay, that’s a pretty valid reason,” Emily says, laughing as she turns to her reports to begin working. “Though we should hang out sometime soon. Even if it isn’t a bar to make sure our resident genius doesn’t have to scrub his face raw.” Emily’s smile grows as she jokes. Spencer rolls his eyes as Morgan lets out an extended ‘Ooohh’.

“See I didn’t ask for this abuse? Okay? Someone tell me it’s 8 o’clock.” Spencer retorted in protest, pulling a laugh from both of his co-workers. His smile is obvious though, amused by his co-workers and their teasing after years of growing used to it.

“What's the rush? You got a date waiting for you?” Morgan teased. Spencer rolled his eyes again.

“Not everyone is as entertained by the thought of a relationship as you, Morgan.” Spencer insisted. “No, I do not have a date. I actually have a ‘date’ with coffee and my bed. See, I can do metaphors.” Spencer insisted, turning again to his reports and writing a few lines.

“That…I’m not even gonna attempt it.” Emily spoke, laughing with Morgan at Spencer’s lack of understanding of references and sayings.

Unfortunately, that was where the conversation quickly died down and the three were left in silence. It irked Spencer greatly, especially since these ‘abandoned’ conversations had been a frequent occurrence since JJ had been whisked away to the Pentagon. It was like there was a piece of them missing. The team had run so smoothly that to take away one of their members was like taking away the main power source of a machine. Leaving him and the remaining members scrambling to figure out how to compensate.

Finally, a few minutes later, Spencer finished his last report and closed it triumphantly. He briefly checked his watch, happy to see the shorthand pointing at the 8. “See you guys tomorrow.” He says as he stands up and picks up his messenger bag and slings it on his left shoulder to rest against his right hip, waving goodbye to Morgan and to Emily.

“Don’t party too hard.” Derek called, pulling a smile back onto Spencer’s face as he carried his reports to Hotch’s desk.

—----

Exhaustion was starting to feel heavy as Spencer stepped into his apartment, the dim lights certainly not helping his case. He yawned tiredly, placing his go bag by the door as usual. He opened his messenger bag, remembering he’d grabbed his mail before heading upstairs. He places his messenger bag on his dining table, taking a seat to look at his probably over-due bills and mail.

Unsurprisingly, Spencer found his water and electric bill in the stack, setting them aside to get done tomorrow morning before he heads into work. Then, what catches his eye, is the slightly smaller envelope with the hesitant and light penmanship. He chuckles to himself, happy to see he hadn’t scared his pen pal away with his detailed account of his academic achievements. However, upon second glance at the sender’s name and address, Spencer is slightly taken aback at the new addition beside the name. Dr. (Y/N) (L/N).

Spencer smiles wider. So she’s graduated?

Spencer turns the envelope over, laughing to himself as he sees the envelope had not been sealed, and the seal had been folded into the envelope once again. He pulls the seal out and then the letter on the familiar blue stationary. Spencer then turns the delicate paper over, and began to read.

18/09/2010

Hello again, Dr. Reid! (How old are you by the way?)

It is so good to hear from you! I was almost sure you were going to throw my letter away. Like, who uses Penpalsrus.com anymore besides ten-year-olds? I’m glad I got you though. You seem interesting! I love Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, by the way. I’ve read more things than you could probably guess. Though with your Eidetic memory you might.

I love poetry too. I have a whole book of Edgar Allen Poe’s poems on my bookshelf. My aunt sends me all kinds of books from her library every few months. I think I have a Greek version of the Illiad somewhere. I could loan it to you if you wanted. Though my mother might not like the amount of money I’d be spending to send it.

So, you could probably read it already, but I finally graduated and I have my doctorate. I’m supposed to apply for med school this fall. My dad wants me to do it online so I can stay here on our family farm. Like I don’t do enough work already! I guess I don’t know what I want to do. My parents were the ones wanting me to go to med school. If I had any say I’d probably stick with biology and work in a lab. Or go back to school for Chem. Not that I don’t wanna learn about human behavior. It still fascinates me how people work. I study the brain in my free time for goodness sake!

What would you do? If you were in my shoes? I wanna make them happy, but this is my life. I can’t cater to them for the rest of my existence.

You don’t have to give me an answer, by the way. I guess I’m just venting? It’s not like you could somehow tell my parents that I’m secretly planning to move out when I go back to college.

What do you do for work, if you don’t mind my asking? A job that requires you to read people sounds amazing. Though I’d probably be happier in a lab.

What are your PhDs and BAs? Maybe you can help me with my next doctorate.

I should probably close this here. It’s getting kinda late. I hope to hear from you soon!

Sincerely,

(Y/N) (L/N)

Spencer found himself smiling warmly at the letter, not at all annoyed as he had been the first time he’d found out about his mother’s attempt to get him to socialize as a child. He felt he already knew (Y/N) better just from this one letter. The feelings she’d put into it were all over the blue paper. Not just in the words, but the lettering itself. The graphite wasn’t as light as it was the first time, however, it was still delicately written. The upper left hand corner had drops of wax on it, indicating she’d been writing by candlelight.

Spencer folded the letter back up, leaving the rest of his mail on the table, forgotten. He headed to his bedroom, placing the letter among the first in his nightstand. He reached up and loosened his tie, shedding his sweater vest as his mind swarmed with ideas on how he wanted to reply. He didn’t at first think he’d find a friend in this little endeavor. But he’d clearly been wrong.

She was into the books that he was. At the very least, Spencer had found a friend that he could discuss his favorite books with. But, secretly he hoped to create something he hadn’t had in some time outside the team or his childhood friend and rival, Ethan; a friend. Someone outside the team he could talk to without risk of putting anyone in danger as well as having an excuse to forget his current predicaments to talk with someone out of the loop.

Spencer sighed to himself, wandering to his desk and taking his seat once again. His mind was too active to rest. He couldn’t recall when he’d last felt as excited as a child to simply write to someone.

So, once he’d picked up a sheet of notebook paper and a pen, he began to write. And before long, he’d finished with a smile on his face and an ache in his wrist. Spencer yawned, stretching his arms out and rotating his wrist to soothe the ache. He stood up from his chair, resolving to make sure he put his reply in an envelope and mail it in the morning, along with sending his bill payments.

Finally, Spencer felt his mind begin to rest, and with it, the rest of his body. He slowly removed his work clothes and climbed into bed, reminding himself of the poem left at the end of (Y/N)’s reply. He said it aloud to himself as he felt sleep quickly reach him, carrying the poem with him into sleep.

Some say the world will end in fire,

Some say in ice.

From what I’ve tasted of desire

I hold with those who favor fire.

But if it had to perish twice,

I think I know enough of hate

To know that for destruction ice

Is also great

And would suffice.

-Robert Frost

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thatboisus · 3 months

Text

“english isn’t my first langua—“ say no more.

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nereidprinc3ss · 1 month

Text

in the dead of night

in which spencer wakes up in the middle of the night with an overwhelming desire to feel you

18+ (smut) warnings/tags: fem!reader, soft dom!spence (certified nereidprinc3ss classic), sub reader, fingering, piv sex, praise, overstimulation, cr**mp*e (god pls we need a new term) a/n: this is probably THEE most self-indulgent thing i've ever written. but.... lowkey favorite smut i've posted thus far..... i'm such a sucker for disgustingly sleepy needy sex. just.... read it and u will see.... and as usual i love you!!! PLEASE tell me what you think!! MWAH

When Spencer got home around one in the morning, he’d been too dead on his feet to do anything more than get undressed, fall into bed, pull you close, and pass out. Now he’s slightly disoriented as he stirs, pinned between sleep and wakefulness as he realizes how you’ve curled into his side—your face is buried in his shoulder to the point where he’s concerned about your access to air—but each warm puff against his neck assures him you’re breathing alright. One arm is slung haphazardly over his shoulder and your top leg is wound around his. Without thinking, his hand cups the back of your thigh, stroking the bare skin where it presses against his hip. You’re never so soft as you are in sleep; plush, easy, gentle. Spencer realizes with some degree of frustration that he has to fuck you. That’s why he’s awake, and he condemned himself to the fate of it as soon as he touched you.

Sometimes the impracticality of sex becomes so apparent he resents his own mammalian, biological drive to reproduce. It was never like this before he met you. You reduce him to nothing more than a primate doomed to follow its basest instincts. You make him feel stupid.

God, he loves you.

It’s with this in mind he drops his head to kiss your shoulder—a gentle sort of wake up call, as his hand snakes further around to your inner thigh and he presses his lips to your ear.

“Baby?” he murmurs, kneading the smooth warmth of your leg. It doesn’t take much to wake you up. He thought after you’d been staying at his apartment on a semi-regular basis you’d begin to sleep through him getting up and coming home at odd hours, but if anything, you became more sensitive to the floor creaking or the mattress dipping.

“Hm?”

His fingers brush the fabric of your underwear. Your hips twitch.

“Is this okay?”

You inhale deeply, readjusting your arms around him and nodding into his chest.

“I need yes or no, angel.”

“Yes, please.”

The words aren’t desperate. They’re sleepy, mumbled, maybe even a little annoyed that he’s making you jump through hoops. The corner of his mouth twists in amusement at your perfunctory politeness and the way it poorly disguises your habitual impatience.

“Thank you,” he says, rewarding you with his fingers pushing between your folds through the fabric. You say nothing more as he unhurriedly rubs your clothed clit, but he feels the way your breath catches for a moment—before pouring out in one deep tide. He presses slightly harder, transitioning from passes to slow, tight circles that elicit the tiniest, sleepiest moans. This goes on for a while until your hips begin grinding in isolated circles, chasing his hand.

“Touch it,” you beg quietly. He can feel how damp you are through the fabric and realizes he was probably torturing you for several minutes, but sometimes he just gets so lost in touching you it becomes almost meditative. He pulls his hand away and snakes it between your bodies, sliding beneath your underwear and dragging his fingers over your puffy clit. You whimper but he quickly gets distracted when he realizes just how wet you actually are. Spencer sinks his fingers into you and moans lowly at the sound, rubbing at a spot deep inside you and rutting his palm against your clit rather than pumping his fingers.

“Breathe,” he reminds you when he realizes how still and silent you’ve gone. A small amount of air escapes in a tremulous little cry as your hips roll gently against his hand—whether to escape the sensation or get closer is unclear. “You’re all wet, baby. Were you touching yourself before I got home?”

“Mhm,” you hum weakly against him. “Couldn’t come.”

Spencer feels like he could finish at the thought alone—the nightly phone calls while he’s away occasionally devolve into desperate phone sex and he’s gotten off to the image of you playing with yourself in his bed on more than one occasion.

“We’ll make you come,” he promises, dragging his fingers from your soaked heat with bated breath.

He pushes your underwear down first, until you can kick it off your feet (you’ll have to search for it between tangled sheets tomorrow) and then his own, inhaling sharply through clenched teeth as his cock brushes your tummy. Spencer hoists your bent leg further up his body, exposing your cunt a little more and reaching underneath your thigh until he can guide himself between them.

The head of his cock pushes between your folds momentarily before he’s teasing your swollen clit, slipping the underside of his tip over it in lazy, noisy circles until you whine.

“Stop it,” you beg, voice still strained with sleep, “need it inside.”

“You’re right, baby, I’m sorry,” he croons, pressing his lips to your hair as he notches his cock at your dripping entrance and slowly begins to push in. “You’re being very patient—”

He cuts himself off as the two of you moan in filthy harmony. You’re so worked up for him, so defenseless in your half-unconscious state that he slips in with far less resistance than usual.

“Fuck, me,” he groans under his breath, hissing and bucking his hips when you tighten around him and cry out. He shuts his eyes and thinks of the Goncharov conjecture in an attempt to control himself; the i-th cohomology of the complex is isomorphic to the motivic cohomology group—and then he’s fine. He’s at least learned to stop rattling off mathematical paradoxes out loud during sex. “You okay?”

The only answer you have for him is an indecipherable whine that makes his chest ache. He rubs your thigh in sweet, soothing passes.

“I know, I’m sorry.” A thought occurs—he chuckles breathily, seeing stars as you throb around him. “You never let me in that easily.”

“Mm,” you squeak, gripping his shoulder hard enough that it aches and he truly couldn’t care less, “you feel good.”

He exhales shakily, pulling out slightly before grinding his hips even deeper into yours.

“Yeah? So do you, sweet girl.”

“Fuck,” you whimper, and he takes it as a sign that you’re ready to be fucked. Spencer’s not thinking about a whole lot as he withdraws all the way and you clench around him desperately—but somewhere in the back of his mind he’s realizing how much he loves your dirty mouth. When he was younger and dumber, he thought he’d prefer a girl who was soft-spoken and rarely (if ever) cursed. Now that he’s had you, he realizes how compelling and endearing the contrast of your soft voice is when you’re swearing like a marine.

“God, I missed you,” he breathes into your hair as he leisurely finds the right pace and you melt against him. “I missed how soft and wet you get for me,” Spencer admits gently, eyes screwed shut as he rambles from a place of profound affection and not at all thinking clearly, “and I missed how you cry when you need it so bad it hurts, and I missed how sweet you are when you let me fuck you right after I get home and you’re so tired, just like this. You’re always so good, honey, I don’t know what I did to deserve you—” You whine and clench so hard around him it becomes an effort to push back in, and he groans as he realizes you’re already coming. “Good girl, baby. Holy fuck.”

That last part is more so whispered to himself, but he can’t help it as he feels you painting his cock with your release. You’ve never come this quickly before, and he slips his arm beneath the crook of your knee, pulling up and granting himself more access to fuck you harder and faster. You moan brokenly, sinking your nails into his back.

“‘m sorry. That was—I didn’t mean to.”

“No,” he quickly assures you, breathing hard, “that was so good, baby. It was perfect. Don’t apologize.”

It seems the brief window between climax and over-stimulation has passed, and a gasp falls from your dropped jaw, arching into him as your body unconsciously tries to find relief from the sensation.

“Oh, god, Spencer, I—”

“You can take it, we’re getting close,” he promises. Not a demand, but meant as encouragement. “Do you think you can come for me one more time?”

“I don’t know,” you slur, the words rising to squeak.

“I think you can. Come on, show me how you were touching yourself earlier.”

You whimper, but slide your hand from his shoulder and push it between your bodies. A gasp accompanies the jolt of your muscles as you make contact with your clit, probably demanding too much of it. Soon, however, the conflicted mewls melt into a rhythmic string of delicate, short moans, so pretty it’s like a practiced song. Spencer’s brain, usually overflowing with words, is nothing but a void of swirling fog—each of your perfect sounds, a little burst of light. Soon he’s making noises of his own, which you obviously adore if the way you tense around him is any clue. Usually he sublimates them into words, but he’s too tired, and you feel too good. Your combined moans, along with the sound of him fucking you and the sheets moving over skin make for a truly dirty soundscape.

“Will you come inside me?” you beg breathlessly, and he can feel the movement of your hand speeding up as you get desperate. He sucks in a breath through his teeth at your plaintive request—the words bring him that much closer to finishing.

“Yeah, baby. I’m—fuck, I’m not going to last.”

“Spencer—” and somehow, when you say his name like that, he knows exactly what you want. He bows his head and finds your lips, mostly blind in the dark, kissing you messily until that split second where his grip on reality becomes tenuous before the building pressure finally bursts. Multicolored fireworks explode behind his eyes as he moans against your lips and continues fucking you through his orgasm in strong thrusts for as long as he can. Thankfully you finish again just as he’s running out of steam. He rubs the spasming muscles of your thigh deeply as you writhe against him in your typical push-pull style—you don’t know what you want and it’s his job to hold you still and make you take it. After a moment you quiet down, stilling in his arms except for the continued expansion and contraction of your lungs. “Oh my god,” you breathe. “I can’t believe I did that. That’s so embarrassing.” Spencer chuckles breathily—kisses your forehead with his eyes still shut and slips a hand under your shirt to rub your back.

“Why is it embarrassing? I liked it.”

“I have never—it’s never been so fast! It’s not supposed to be!”

“Why not?”

You huff.

“You’re the man. Men come too quickly. Not me.”

“I’m sorry you had to have two orgasms instead of one. Next time we’ll make sure you don’t come so we can even it out.”

You bury your face in his shoulder once more, immediately softening.

“No! I take it back.”

“I thought you might.” His hand slides down your back, squeezing your ass affectionately. “Let's rally. We need to clean you up, angel.”

The pillow muffles your voice as you say, “I can’t. I’m asleep.”

“Can I record you saying that for playback in the morning when you ask me why I let you go to sleep with my come inside of you?”

“Spencer, I am seriously not moving. You woke me up. This is not a me problem.”

That makes him laugh, and he presses his lips to yours softly. After a long moment of his mouth moving slowly against yours, a needy little whine rushes from your nose, and it becomes evident he’s successfully kissed the attitude from you.

“You were so good, honey,” he murmurs against your lips. Another (shorter) kiss. “Did so well. I’m proud of you, baby.”

A second soft whimper from you as you chase his lips and he gives in once, briefly—knowing he can’t make you get up after this. How could he do that to such a sweet girl when she’s obviously completely exhausted? Jesus, you have him whipped. He recognizes that. And he made peace with it a long time ago.

“Go back to sleep. I’ll clean you up.”

“Thank you,” you mumble, already slipping back into unconsciousness like you knew you’d get your way. Knowing your boyfriend, you probably did. “I love you.”

“I love you. Even though you’re a princess.”

You laugh.

Ten-ish minutes later, once he’s done the best he can cleaning you up and is throwing the covers back over both of you, you startle him slightly by speaking. He thought you’d been asleep.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” you sigh dreamily, snaking your arms around him once more. Spencer’s cheeks heat up at the memory of the praise he’d shamelessly lavished upon you not long ago. He’s glad you’re barely awake, because he’s too flustered to think of a response.

He loves it when you do that.

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds smut #criminal minds x reader

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moonlightspencie · 11 months

Text

Devils Roll the Dice…

Description: A new recruit to the BAU catches Reid’s eye. Unfortunately for the both of them, she has a past with someone very close to him. Are they willing to keep secrets just to keep one another? (TWO-PART MINISERIES)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader

Warnings: alcohol consumption, sexual references/content (i’ll accept 16+ because its definitely not more than pg-13 material but writing anything sexy makes me feel weird if i know teenagers are reading it)

Word Count: 4k

I took a deep breath, looking in the mirror. I knew we were meeting the new recruit today, and just the thought of it exhausted me. Not that I didn’t like meeting new people. I just hated the break in routine.

We had a concrete team. Kate had already joined. We didn’t need anyone else coming in and messing up a very new rhythm we’d found with each other.

I finished tying my tie, pressing it down, and preemptively steeling myself against the new person. Probably some guy who didn’t know the difference between a tyrannical and enforcing sadist. Half of the students I’d met in recent guest lectures only wanted to go into the field because they’d listened too many crime podcasts anyways.

I walked into the bullpen, taking my seat as usual, ready to turn that cold shoulder at the first misstep of whoever this mystery recruit was. Unfortunately, I felt anything but cold when Hotch called our attention to the figure standing in his office doorway. He stood partially in front of her before he allowed her to stand right next to him as he introduced us. My eyes locked onto her at an embarrassing rate, and I felt far more embarrassed when she caught me and flashed a smirk.

She was anything but shy as a newbie, and for some reason that thrilled me. She wasn’t afraid to get into conversation with the team immediately as she unpacked her things at her new desk. She wasn’t afraid to tell Garcia everything she wanted to know. Much to my surprise, she wasn’t afraid to send me the cutest smiles every time she caught my eyes on her.

“Hey,” she said, walking up to me as I stood in the kitchenette.

Truthfully, I needed the time alone because of her. I couldn’t stop looking at her, and it was becoming a problem considering I was supposed to be doing work. She was just so… Different. She was sweet and funny and so attractive it made my mouth dry up.

“Hi,” I said after a moment. “Coffee?”

She nodded, holding out her mug. I filled it up from the pot in my hands after I topped off my own. She blew on it, looking up at me with big eyes. I watched her, not realizing how long it had been until she broke eye contact, a smile settling onto her face.

“You’re gonna keep watching me blow on my coffee?”

I opened my mouth to say something, but fell quiet when she smiled again. She moved the mug from her face.

“Got any advice for me with the BAU?”

I swallowed. “Uh, you came from Intelligence, right?”

She nodded, brows raised. “Yeah. How’d you know?”

“I was listening earlier. You said it to JJ.”

“Alright, so I know one fact about you other than the eidetic memory,” she said with a chuckle.

I smiled softly. “Right. Sorry, I haven’t been very talkative today.”

“That’s okay,” she said, giving me a reassuring smile. “I’ve tried really hard to get into this unit, so I don’t plan on leaving any time soon. We’ll have time to get to know one another.”

I nodded quickly. “Uh, so, advice. Um, I guess you should know this team is a lot like a family. We really care about each other, and we’re pretty close. Especially us field agents.”

“Good to know,” she nodded thoughtfully. “If you have any more wisdom floating around in that big ol’ brain of yours, let me know. I already heard Penelope calling you ‘boy wonder’, so I’d love to see you live up to that reputation.”

She finished off her sentence with a wink, turning away from me and rejoining the others who still gathered around her desk. She was shiny and new, and everyone wanted to know about her. I couldn’t blame them. I’d love to know as much as I could get my hands on.

One thing I learned very quickly is that she had a habit of flirting.

At first, I thought it was a general behavior she exhibited towards everyone. Then, after some keen observation I came to a terrible and exciting realization: she really only flirted with me.

I think most of it was due to the fact that she just liked to see me flustered. She could make it happen very easily, too. All it took was a sly, under-the-breath comment in passing and my face was turning red.

She’d smile at me, enjoying the tint in my cheeks. I’d stare back at her, just glad to see her smile.

Four weeks in and I was entirely wrapped around her finger.

She wasn’t shy about flirting on cases either, though she was always really good about making sure the only thing anyone ever saw was me being a total dork.

I almost never tried flirting back. I was pretty terrible at it anyways. But there were occasions when I’d make an attempt.

We were working on a case that leaned heavily on the geographical profile, meaning: I spent the entire case in the precinct. I finally cracked it after a few days, and the team found themselves at a farm. One of my least favorite places for a case to be, leaving me very thankful that I wasn’t along for the search and rescue. I really only went to the farm because everyone else was there.

By the time that I actually got to the crime scene, the unsub had already been apprehended. So, I stood near the cars, waiting on the others to come back. It was several minutes before I heard Hotch and Derek walking up and talking to one another. I turned as the rest of the team followed several steps behind. Y/N came into view last, and I couldn’t help but let out a laugh as she walked closer.

She gave me an exasperated smile, throwing her arms up as I took her in. She was covered in dried mud, clearly having taken a fall somewhere gross.

“I tripped and fell while doing absolutely nothing. I feel like you, all clumsy,” she joked, laughing.

I smiled, looking her up and down.

“How are you still pretty covered in dirt?”

“You can’t do that,” she said quickly, looking over her shoulder. “Not right now, anyways.”

I scrunched up my face. She had been much more forwardly flirtatious on cases before now. I couldn’t fathom how this was any different, especially since all I did was make a flirty comment. I guess my facial expression could’ve conveyed more. I seemed to have a hard time concealing my feelings for her when she looked at me the way she did.

“Why?”

She looked behind her again, like she was keeping an eye out for someone. But the only person there was Morgan. Maybe she was afraid of him telling on us for flirting on the job. But he was the one that relentlessly flirted with everyone else. Why would he be coming after us? Maybe she didn’t know that well enough.

“Morgan flirts with people all the time. He’s not going to—”

“Spencer,” she groaned, grabbing my arm and pulling me behind the SUV.

I furrowed my brow again. “What?”

“If I tell you something, you have to promise not to get weird about it.”

“Get… Weird?”

“Like, don’t be all freaked out,” she clarified.

“Okay,” I said, unsure where this was heading.

She cleared her throat, stealing one more glance at him. She looked back at me, chewing her lip with a coy smile. I had a feeling that now wasn’t the time, but I blushed, unable to stop myself from fully taking her in. Luckily, my upstairs brain started working again just in time to give all my attention to her as she started speaking.

“I’m sure this will make things a little awkward,” she stated, sighing softly, “but, he and I… Uh, Derek and I, we have a history.”

I quirked a brow. “Oh? How?”

She stared at me, expecting me to take a hint that I was most certainly not picking up on.

“We… We were involved. Romantically.”

My brows shot up. “Oh.”

“Yeah. It was only like five months, really, but,” she shrugged. “That happened. Hence why it’s been a little awkward between us.”

She said that bit like it was the most obvious thing in the world, but I hadn’t been any the wiser about it. Maybe it was just another case of me being a little more oblivious than some of my coworkers about behaviors that didn’t have to do with the job. Maybe I was just too enamored with her to pay attention to how she interacted with our coworker.

“I didn’t notice,” I said quietly.

“Good. I’ve been hoping to keep it on the down-low,” she said with a laugh. “I haven’t exactly wanted to endure teasing from the team about sleeping with Derek of all people.”

I swallowed, not having thought about the fact that she’d been… Physical with him. More so, that he’d gotten to be with her in that way. He’d seen her. Heard her. Felt her. All of her. I took in a breath, clearing my head of that image.

“I’m sorry, I should’ve told you sooner if I was going to keep flirting like this,” she said, suddenly a little shy as she shoved her hands in her pockets. “I know you two are close.”

“Yeah. I’m surprised he didn’t tell us about you.”

She laughed. “Our relationship wasn’t completely… A serious thing.”

“Serious enough to last five months.”

She snorted. “Most of the time we spent together wasn’t exactly romantic. He was great, but we both kind of used each other. Hard time in life for both of us back then.”

“Ah,” I said, nodding curtly. “So it was mostly, uh— Sexual?”

She smirked, looking away. “Not entirely just that. But that was a lot of it.”

I nodded again, feeling my cheeks flush. She nudged my arm, pulling my attention again.

“It’s been well over a year now since that all happened,” she said quietly. “I just… I don’t want to rock the boat right now. Being new to the unit, I should probably try my best to be on everyone’s good side, you know?”

“I get it. I’ll stop with the flirting,” I said, giving what I hoped was an affirming smile.

She furrowed her brow. “That’s not what I meant.”

“It isn’t?”

“The flirting is fine, I just think… Maybe we should keep it a little more quiet when we’re around the others,” she shrugged. “If that’s okay.”

“You’re okay with me— doing that?”

“Spencer, I don’t know if you know this, but you’re crazy hot.”

I was certainly blushing now. I swallowed, blinking in surprise as I looked at her. Her smile only grew. She enjoyed teasing me. I couldn’t say I didn’t like it just as much as she did.

“Uh, th-thank you?”

She rolled her eyes. “Quit acting so shy as if you don’t already know.”

My eyes widened. “I’m not acting.”

“Every woman who meets you flirts with you.”

“No they don’t,” I argued, my brows knitting together.

“Are you blind?”

“No,” I said, still in a state of confusion.

She laughed it off. “Alright, boy wonder, we’d better join the group. They’re gathering like vultures.”

I followed after her as she integrated into the group where they stood as Hotch spoke. She was so good at finding her way in. I was thrilled to see how she’d find her place in my life going forward.

In the following weeks, she gave me an idea of what that would look like. Stolen glances at every turn had my heart racing. It went even faster every time she found a way to touch me in some inconspicuous way.

A hand on my arm as she asked about the maps I was working on. A brush of fingers as she’d hand me a coffee cup. Her shoulder pressed into mine to whisper to me some detail of a case that really could’ve been said at full volume.

She usually didn’t step past those boundaries though, ever cautious not to let herself get caught out by anyone else. The comments she made towards me were still relentless, however. I didn’t know how she had it hidden so well.

I, however, had much more trouble hiding my attraction, and I was sure I’d heard some of my teammates whispering to each other about it. They’d give me knowing looks every time I got caught out staring at her. Even Morgan gave what seemed like mostly-good natured glances my way when I paid a bit too much attention to her. Probably only because he didn’t know that I knew about them, and even more likely didn’t want anyone else to know. It would be a tell-tale sign if he didn’t make fun of me.

It felt wrong to be keeping this odd little secret from him. I wasn’t necessarily sneaking around with his ex-girlfriend, but we were still flirting. We were still hiding something from him. I wondered how he’d react if he found out, and hoped for my sake that he was well and truly over it.

Especially after our last night on a case in Georgia. The summer air in the state was hot, and it felt like it was actively pulling air from my lungs every time I went outside. Maybe it was some kind of metaphor for what was to come.

I held back for hours from going to her door. The teasing had been terribly relentless the entire time we were on the case, and the week before. Tension was building, and I knew if I was easily picking up on it, she definitely had to be.

I paced around my room, contemplating my options. If I went to her, there was a chance we’d finally talk about whatever was happening between us. There was also a chance she’d tell me to leave if I attempted to tell her how I really felt, and I’d be left pining over her probably forever. Both were pretty scary.

Either way, I decided it was better than continuing to fall for her without having a real conversation about it. I walked to the door, my hand on the handle.

She stood just outside my door, her hand raised as if she was about to knock when I tugged it open. A smile graced her pretty lips, her hand dropping.

“Looks like we had the same idea,” she stated, pushing past me into my room. “Good timing.”

“It was.”

She chewed at her lip, looking around the space with her arms crossed. I stared at her as she took it all in, waiting for whatever was on her mind to be put out into the open. She looked back at me, apparently reading my mind.

“We’re both waiting on each other to speak up, huh?”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

“This is a ridiculous thing we’re doing right now. It’s like sneaking around with any of the fun parts,” she said with a laugh.

“I think it’s fun,” I shrugged.

“It could be more fun.”

I swallowed. “Yeah. But I’m happy just to have your attention.”

She smirked, walking towards me.

“I think you’re kind of needy.”

“Maybe.”

“It’s cute.”

I blushed, giving her a smile as I looked away. She still looked at me like she was about to devour me. I could sympathize with all of those animals I saw in nature documentaries as the predator closed in on them. It was in vivid color. She stalked closer and closer, knowing full well that my guard was down enough for her to launch an attack.

“You really enjoy this, don’t you?” I asked. “Knowing you make me flustered. Half of the time I can hardly talk when I’m around you. Everyone knows it, and they all think it’s one-sided.”

She leaned her chest into mine, surely able to feel how fast my heart beat for her.

“Are you embarrassed by it?”

“No.”

Her hands crept their way up under my shirt, leaving goosebumps in their wake as if her touch didn’t feel as hot as the sun. I watched her silently, letting her do whatever she wanted. She couldn’t asked me to jump out of the seventh-floor window with her and I would’ve gone head first without a question.

Panic only crept in when she started leaning in closer to my face, and I realized her lips were on a path that would end with mine.

“Wait,” I said, grabbing her wrists.

Her eyes widened, pulling her head back slightly.

“Are you okay?”

“I just don’t think this is a good idea,” I breathed out.

She retreated from me, and it was hard not to let my body follow hers. She was only a step away, but it felt like a continent’s worth of space. My fingers itched to reach out and pull her back in.

“I’m sorry,” I said quietly, eyes wandering over her face.

She swallowed. “I don’t know what you want, Spence. One minute you’re telling me you want me, the next you’re pushing me away.”

Logic kept trying to overtake my head. It was annoying.

“I can’t… You’re Morgan’s ex.”

She sighed. “I’m also a human being. I am my own person separate from him. One that is very attracted to you.”

I wet my lips, not missing how her eyes followed the action. I felt a fluttering in my stomach just watching her react. She smiled, as always, catching me in the act of being wildly into her. She took half a step forward.

“You’re telling me this is a bad idea, but every time I look at you I’m getting a different message.”

I swallowed. “I know.”

“So, which is it?”

“It is a bad idea,” I started, intending on making it a whole sentence, but not knowing what to say next.

“But?”

“But I don’t know if I care enough to stop it.”

She smirked again, not holding back this time. She reached up, pulling me down to her lips with her hands wrapped in my hair. I wound my arms around her waist, pulling her tightly into me. I relished feeling her body fully pressed against mine, especially when she let out a contented sigh as I deepened the kiss. She started guiding my backwards towards the bed, and I obliged her silent request until the backs of my knees were against the mattress.

“Sit,” she requested, the word whispered against my lips.

I did, peering up at her as she staying standing in between my legs. She grasped my chin in her soft hand, tilting up my head to see me.

“How sure about this are you?”

“I don’t know,” I answered truthfully.

She smiled. “Good. I don’t either.”

She dropped into my lap, kissing me like we hadn’t even stopped in the first place. My hands gripped her hips for the first time, and she was everything I had daydreamed about. Soft and responsive. I couldn’t imagine being the one to let her go, and I found myself questioning Morgan’s judgment in that moment.

It made me feel even better every time she smiled or made a little comment about the ways I reacted to her. Usually I’d be embarrassed, but she just made me feel good.

“Sweet boy,” she mumbled against me, moving her lips from my jaw and down my neck.

My hands found themselves wandering across her back, and my eyes were practically stuck shut as I felt her lips against my skin. I could’ve died right then and there and been happy to go.

But a knock at the door sent us both into high alert. She sat up straight, looking towards the door.

I stood with her legs still wrapped around me before I turned and dropped her on the bed. She bounced on the mattress, looking up at me with a surprised smile.

“Just— Stay here and stay quiet. Please,” I said, then walked to the door, trying to frantically fix my hair.

I cleared my throat as I opened the door, forcing myself to not look like I was embarrassingly close to…

I shook myself out of that thought the second I saw Morgan. He definitely put an end to any sexy thoughts that clouded my head.

“Hey, kid, can I ask you something?”

I furrowed my brow. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “I just… Do you know what’s been up with JJ? She’s been a little off. Won’t really talk to me, so I was wondering if she said anything to you.”

I let out a breath of relief. “No, she hasn’t told me anything. But I know Henry’s been pretty sick the past week. Maybe that’s it.”

“Hm,” he hummed, nodding slowly. “Alright, thanks. Just… Worried, you know?”

“Yeah,” I nodded. “It’s JJ, though. She’ll be okay.”

“Right, yeah, I know,” he nodded again. “Alright. Thanks, again. You get some sleep tonight, alright?”

I nodded, bidding him a goodnight. I shut the door, seeing her on the bed still. She was propped up on her elbows, smirking at me.

“That ruin the mood?”

I locked the door.

“Not particularly.”

To my surprise, she ended up being the one who wanted to take it slow. We kissed for another hour or so when I got back within her reach, but didn’t go much further. Not that I was in a position to complain. I was ecstatic just to be touching her, and she somehow felt the same about me. I wasn’t sure I’d ever understand why that was.

She’d told me when I’d dropped onto the bed, crawling over top of her, that she didn’t want to go all the way. She said it so sweet. Almost like she was afraid of whatever answer I’d give to her. As if I’d say I didn’t want to kiss her all night long.

Besides, I was pretty sure I’d spontaneously combust if we had gone any further.

We woke up the next morning, still holding onto one another. She had changed into my t-shirt before she climbed into bed with me, and looked absolutely incredible with her messy bed-head and sleepy smile.

“Good morning,” she mumbled.

“It is a very good morning,” I said, pressing a soft kiss to her lips.

Her hand pressed against my cheek, the smile spreading on her face as she looked at me.

“You’re adorable,” she said quietly, granting me another kiss.

I sighed. “I don’t think I want to stop this.”

“Why would we?” she asked with an incredulous smile.

“Because, I mean, we can’t tell anyone about us,” I said with a shrug. “I just thought you wouldn’t want to make this— A thing.”

She wet her lips. “We don’t have to tell anyone in order to be together.”

I contemplated that for a moment. I’d never considered having a completely private relationship. At least not with someone who wasn’t actively being stalked. That was an entirely different scenario. I guess to her, it was probably scary to get into a relationship with one of your ex’s best friends. I couldn’t blame her for that.

I took a breath. “You… You want to keep it a secret?”

She nodded. “If that’s okay with you.”

“I’ll do whatever you want,” I said with a nod, not bothering to filter my thoughts as they came out into the open.

She smiled. “Anything?”

“Almost. I draw the line at murder.”

She laughed. “Team’d catch you anyways.”

I laughed right back, giving her another kiss. She leaned into my touch, shyness creeping into her face.

“I do really like you, Spencer.”

I nodded. “I do too.”

“This’ll be great, you know?”

She smiled brightly, causing one to form on my face. She brushed my hair away from my face, just looking at me.

“Yeah. I know.”

…ANGELS ROLL THEIR EYES (part 2)

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid reader insert #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds reader insert #reid x y/n #reid x you #reid x reader

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radiant-reid · 2 years

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Little Touches

Summary: Just a few moments where Spencer learns how much he loves touches

could you do one where BAU! Reader and Spencer are dating, and they know each other like the backs of their own hands, so whenever he gets either anxious, overwhelmed, or is just having a bad time on a case, she knows exactly how to calm him?

spencer getting into a relationship where the other person is aware of how much he doesn’t like physical touch but he doesn’t know how to tell them that he wants to be touched, so slowly, over time, he sneaks little touches and kisses (maybe even some PDA?!)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader (fluff)

Content Warning: Spencer gets a couple of minor injuries

Word Count: 2.6k

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Spencer had never understood touches. Scientifically, he understood why people needed to feel physical, but he didn’t have enough experiences to be agreeing that it helped him personally. He felt okay getting enough oxytocin from spending time with his friends and getting hugs from Henry.

Things were different with Y/n. From the first time he kissed her, he knew things weren’t going to stay the way they were.

Y/n was cautious going into it, concerned he’d find her level of physical affection alarming when she’d only seen him hug four people since the start of her time at the BAU.

The very first day after they got together, they were called in for a case early in the morning. Spencer was there only second to Hotch, and he'd already made two coffees when Y/n walked in.

"Here." He offered her designated mug out to her with a sheepish smile. Her coffee order had been memorized in his head since she joined the team, but he didn't have a reason to make it until now.

It was odd to see him at work when she'd just been on the phone with him the night before for two hours. Even though she'd had a crush on him for months while working alongside him, something felt different.

"You made me a coffee?" She asked once she took it, eyes darting around the quiet office.

There was a spoken agreement that they wouldn't tell the rest of the team for a while because it was so new, and things were much less messy when no one else knew.

Spencer nodded, his cheeks reddening as he looked down at the liquid in his mug. "It's my job now." He asserted before his voice got quieter. "As your boyfriend."

"Well then, I'll see you in there, boyfriend." Y/n teased a little, adoring the way the official title rolled off her tongue. Testing the boundary, she reached out to touch his forearm, letting her hand linger there for a moment before she turned off to walk up the stairs. It left that tingling feeling inside of Spencer that he didn't know was possible because of something physical rather than emotional.

They fell in love with the physical connection they got to have when they weren't masquerading as colleagues as quickly as they fell in love with each other. The early morning walks to the coffee shop before work where they could walk hand in hand and sit close to each other. The dates to the movie theater where they could sit right next to each other and Y/n could rest her head on his shoulder.

All the cases had made it difficult for them to find any time to spend together. It was something they knew would happen, but even a month in and it was hard to hang out.

So, when Spencer invited her to a French film festival, she agreed despite not being able to speak French. It was a drive-in theatre so Y/n drove so they could sit in the back of her car.

Because Spencer had to give her a whisper translated, they sat close together, but they both wanted to be just a little bit closer. His voice had been right in her ear all night, and she was ready to do something about it.

When she shifted away from him, he was worried that he'd gone too far by holding her hand. "What's wrong?" He asked, turning away from the movie to look at her.

"Nothing, but can you sit against there?" She asked, gesturing to the side of the car.

Spencer obliged her request, shuffling over so his back rested against the side instead of the back of the seats. She moved closer to him, crawling between his legs when they spread on instinct.

When she finally settled, it was with her head on his chest, her body between his legs, and her arms wrapped around him. Spencer immediately relaxed, holding her tighter to him and stroking her back. He could feel the instant effect that all those positive studies had detailed, and he wondered why he missed out on this, on her, for so long.

"Is this alright?" She checked, head tilting up to meet his fond gaze.

It was so much more than alright to him, feeling her weight on top of him like it was an anchor. "Yeah, this is really good."

Touches only became a more common part of their lives as their relationship progressed. Cuddling on the couch was much more prominent whenever they had a free evening. Outside of work, his hands were always on her. She knew it was only a matter of time before they weren't able to keep their 3-month long relationship a secret.

But Sunday mornings were not a time for that concern. Sunday mornings were a time for sleeping late and one trying to kick the other out of bed to make breakfast.

Y/n volunteered that morning since he had the last 2 times. Once she brought him coffee in bed, she got started on some pancakes. But before she could even start cooking them, two surprisingly thick, tanned forearms wrapped their way around her waist. The veins looked delicious and he struggled to not His scent engulfed her, heavy cologne in the air.

"What's this?" She asked, no longer focused on what she was doing as she tilted her head up to look into his beautiful brown eyes. The touches of gold flickered in the late morning sunshine.

"Missed you," Spencer claimed, eyes fixed on admiring the color in hers. Gently, he rocked them side to side when she turned back around to focus on breakfast, keeping his head tucked tightly into her neck.

Y/n giggled lightly, her face breaking out in a grin. "Been away from you for, like, five minutes." She reminded him but he was hardly paying attention as he peppered kisses on her cheeks.

Before she could keep cooking, Spencer spun her around and sat her up on the counter so he could stand in between her knees, keeping his face only inches away from hers.

"So? Every minute I don't get to see your face is terrible." He told her dramatically.

"What do you do when you're sleeping then?" She asked, trying to find a question to trick him.

But alas, her genius boyfriend couldn't be tricked, and his romantic wooing only came out more intense. "Not a problem because I dream about you."

"Stop" She squealed, hitting him on the shoulder. "You're the absolute sappiest."

"Never going to stop." He promised her, clearly meaning something more serious than a casual retort.

The way he looked with the sun streaming through the big windows in his apartment was criminal. So insanely attractive it was unfair. Like he was made to stand in the sun with his cheekbones pronounced and his eyes a shade lighter.

"I love you." He said, beating her to it.

"I love you." She smiled back, leaning forward an extra inch to rest her forehead against and letting her eyelids flutter closed. Spencer did the same thing, breathing in and out calmly and in sync with her.

There was something so grounding about it, being so close to someone you love with your whole heart, and it took away so much of the stress they had placed on them due to their jobs. She could feel his breath against her skin with every exhale, warm and comforting.

They only pulled away when Spencer's stomach rumbled, making her giggle. "So, pancakes?" He asked, eyes flicking to the bowl.

"Your favorite." She answered. "But I'm just going to sit here looking pretty while you cook them."

He chuckled, eyes drifting down to her figure covered by just one of his shirts and a pair of panties. It was his favorite sight in the world. "You absolutely need to just sit there and look pretty." He assured her.

Happily, she agreed, letting him cook before eventually sitting next to him at the kitchen island to eat, which always led to Spencer spinning the barstool she was sitting on with his foot playfully and unexpectedly. They spent all morning there, talking, reading the newspaper, and getting impossibly closer.

Then the phone rang, and, separately, they were being invited to dinner at Rossi's.

"Always look pretty in that dress," Spencer told her later that evening as they changed. Even if they had to go separately and pretend they weren't a couple there, they were going to spend the whole day together.

Y/n spun around from where she was critiquing herself in the mirror, taking in her incredibly beautiful boyfriend in his dark blue suit. "Thank you." She replied, stepping closer to kiss his cheek. Her lipstick left a bright pink mark on his cheek.

"Lovely, I can't go like this." He joked, reaching across the counter for a makeup wipe.

Sitting up on the countertop, she looked at his skillful fingers as they wiped off the mark. "I like marking you up, though." She countered, earning an immediate blush on his cheeks.

He stopped what he was doing, turning his head to look at her. "Do you mean that as something different?" He asked, trying to stop himself from reading into what felt like a lighthearted comment.

Y/n had only meant it jokingly, not about revealing their whole life, but his question made her think harder about it. "Yeah... yes, I do." She stated a bit more firmly. "I want everyone to know."

"Not as much as I want everyone to know." He stated, stepping closer to her where he could place his hands on the counter on either side of her body. "Tonight?" He asked, dropping his head down, so they were face to face, just inches apart.

"Tonight," Y/n confirmed, leaning forward to kiss him. She ran her finger along his lipstick-covered bottom lip. "Oh, yeah, they'll know now definitely."

He grinned while blushing, moving out of her way so she could hop down. "Let's go then." He grabbed her hand as soon as he could, leading her through the house to the car.

His hand stayed on her thigh the whole drive to Rossi's, reassuring her that everything would be okay because she was nervous even if she wasn't showing it.

When he parked the car, and she realized everyone else was there, her concerns about what they would think doubled. "We'll be alright." He assured her, placing a kiss on her cheek before dragging her out of the car.

"So we're just going to knock on the door and do this?" She asked, tightening her grip on his hand.

"Sure." Spencer agreed, surprisingly more calm than she thought he would be. He knocked when she couldn't, eyes darting to her while they waited for someone to come open it.

Penelope was there first, and her squeal quickly brought everyone else to the foyer, earning Y/n and Spencer a round of hugs and congratulations from everyone. There was nothing but excitement from all of their friends. Spencer's knee rested against hers for the whole dinner, and the smiles that were plastered on both of their faces only grew each time they looked at each other.

Round table meetings had always had a seating plan, even if it wasn't official, and Y/n's designated spot was right next to her boyfriend. But it was difficult for her to be so close to him without touching him, so they settled for something smaller.

They'd fallen into a routine of touches, and that morning wasn't any different. After he walked in with her coffee, he sat next to her, and when the case presentation started, his pinky finger came to rest against hers, touching her just enough that she could deal with everything she was about to hear.

The case wasn't any worse than usual, but Y/n could tell Spencer had a bad feeling about it, just from how he was a little more flustered than usual.

His stressing didn't stop at the precinct in Miami, and he was struggling to make the proper connections as he looked at the board.

"Here." Y/n handed him a cup of coffee when she walked in, failing to tell him it was decaf. Hotch and Morgan were watching the interaction from the table where they were going over some of the suspect files.

"Thanks," Spencer said, taking it from her.

While they looked at the board, she reached down to wrap her fingers around his wrist, touching her fingers to his pulse point. It was fast, far too quick. "You've gotta breathe, baby." She whispered quiet enough that no one could hear. "Your big brain can't work if you're so tense."

He understood by the nod he gave her, looking at her just for a moment before going back to the board with much more relaxed shoulders.

Two minutes later, he was rushing out of the room, throwing some instructions to Y/n and Hotch and taking Morgan with him. "How do you do that?" Hotch asked as she sat down across from him.

"What?" She asked, looking up at him, a little nervously like she was about to get in trouble.

"I've worked with him for 7 years, and I've never seen him relax as quickly as he does whenever you do that thing that you do." He explained.

Y/n smiled a little, grateful she could help him. "I don't know, but I'm glad I can."

"So am I." He replied, breaking his stoic expression to smile at her.

Somehow, it went wrong. Terribly wrong, and by the time Y/n and Hotch ended up at the crime scene, Spencer was sitting in the back of an ambulance.

As soon as the SUV stopped, she was jumping out to race over to his side. "What happened?" She asked, concern filling her voice.

Spencer was holding an icepack to his eye while a medic shone a light in the other. "Got my ass kicked." He joked, trying not to let her worry too much.

"Baby." She cooed, sitting next to him when the medic, not worried about anything more than superficial damage, left them. "Your pretty face." She pouted, reaching out to cup his cheeks and running her thumbs over his cheekbones. There were stitches on one side, skin red.

"Not just my face," Spencer admitted, pulling up his shirt so she could see the bruise that was already forming on his lower stomach.

It looked really bad and she reached out to touch his side, trying to be gentle but he still winced. She moved back to sitting next to him, cupping his cheeks again. His bottom lip was split, he had a black eye forming, and there was a cut above his eyebrow. She leaned forward, peppering a few kisses around his cheeks and jawline, anywhere she could get them without causing him pain.

"Stop looking at me like that." He complained, a little red.

"Nuh-uh. You're too hurt for that baby." She reasoned, maintaining eye contact with him. "And don't be pretending that you do like these little touches."

He chuckled out a breath, immediately wishing he hadn't when his ribs started hurting. "I do. More than you could ever know."

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incognit0slut · 3 months

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Beyond the limit

>> Part two: the breaking point

Spencer is hesitant when you ask him to be rough, but when he realizes how much you enjoy it, he wonders just how far he can push your limit.

warnings: (MDNI, 18+) dom spence, guided/mutual masturbation, dirty talk, degradation (use of slut), orgasm control, hairpulling, choking, overstimulation, creampie, cumplay, squirting, rough sex, so many body fluids

a/n: 4k words for 4k followers! Thank you all so much, consider this as a token of my appreciation. This one is for you, I love you all ♡

Spencer considered himself as someone with a strong sense of self-control... until he found himself on top of you, right between your legs. How could he resist when your body felt so soft against his? When all his restraint seemed to vanish into thin air?

He had you pinned against the bed, his palms tracing your hips before moving to your breast. You moaned out his name as your nipples hardened against the thin material of your shirt—his shirt, to be exact. After all, it was how it all started.

The moment he was greeted by the view of your perfect ass when he came home from work, barely covered by his shirt you were wearing, something in him snapped. You looked so damn good, so damn tempting, practically begging to be touched.

It didn’t take long for him to discard his bag onto the floor before scooping you in his arms. You simply giggled, amused at his sudden urgency yet eagerly welcoming it as he led you into your shared bedroom.

Now he was right between your thighs, pressing his hard erection right against your panties. You could feel yourself getting wet by the friction and you found yourself parting your legs even further, grinding your hips along with his as his mouth continued to suck on the spot right below your ear.

Anytime you whimpered, he gripped you tighter, and your shaky hands clutched onto button-down shirt. There was something about him still dressed in his work clothes while you were nearly half-naked, his shirt bunched around your waist, leaving your lower half exposed. And you liked it. It made you feel vulnerable being pressed under him like this, sparking a strange desire to submit to him completely.

And now you craved more. You wanted to surrender to him, to let him take the lead. But to your dismay, his movements suddenly slowed down, leaving you momentarily confused because you could feel the way he was holding back. His hands were trembling against your body as if he was consciously avoiding being rough.

You slid your hands up to his chest, lightly pushing him away and he quickly drew back. His brows furrowed as he gazed down at you. "What is it? Did I do something wrong?"

Shaking your head, you reassured him. "No," you replied softly. "But... you don't have to hold yourself back for my sake, you know.”

His eyes narrowed in confusion. "What do you mean?"

You took a deep breath, searching for the right words. "I mean, I know you're trying to be careful, but... I want you to take control, without holding back. I want... more.”

A flicker of surprise crossed his features. "You want me to... be rough?" he asked cautiously.

You nodded, a flush creeping up your cheeks. "I do."

"But I- I don't want to hurt you."

You reached out, cupping his cheek tenderly. "I trust you, Spence. I trust us. And I want you to trust yourself too."

His expression softened under your touch. You took it as enough of a sign to push forward as your thumb swept back and forth across his jaw.

"If it's too much I'll tell you," you assured him.

He searched your eyes for a moment, uncertainty flickering within his gaze. "What if I hurt you?" he asked, his voice tinged with concern.

You bit your lip, studying his face for a moment before responding. "I think I'll like it if you do," you confessed, your cheeks flushing slightly. "But we don't have to do anything crazy you're not comfortable with. We don't necessarily have to do something you don't want to."

Spencer swallowed hard, processing your words. "So what do you want then?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your hand slid up the length of his jaw until your fingers slipped into his hair. Very carefully you gripped a handful of his curly strands in your fist. "Do whatever you want, baby," you answered. "Mark my skin. Pull my hair. Talk me through it."

You noticed the way his lips twitched at your words and you smiled.

"Fuck me hard," you demanded boldly.

His breath hitched as he searched your eyes. He definitely wanted to do those things, too. When he finally relaxed into your touch, a rush of anticipation surged through you, your heart beating rapidly.

"Are you sure?" he asked slowly.

You nodded, gripping his hair a bit harder, enjoying the way his breathing grew shallower. "Please," you whispered, your voice filled with desire.

With a barely audible groan, Spencer gave in to your request, his resolve melting away as his lips crashed against yours. Your pulse sped up excitedly in your chest in response—this was exactly what you wanted. That pure, raw desire that was too strong for him to contain. When he finally pulled away, he was breathing even heavier now, his shoulders heaving with each audible inhale.

"If we're going to do this, we'll do it my way," he declared firmly. "You will listen to me, understood?"

You nodded, feeling a shiver of anticipation run down your spine at the commanding tone of his voice. "Yes," you replied breathlessly.

And just when you thought he was about to delve into another kiss, he surprised you by pulling away. He sat back, his eyes narrowing as he focused on you. "Sit up and lean back on the pillow," he commanded.

Your heart raced as you complied, eagerly following his lead.

"Take off the shirt... leave your panties on."

You followed, leaning forward, your fingers grabbing the hem of your shirt before pulling it off your body, revealing your soft-looking skin to his eyes. His predatory gaze was locked on your breasts, noticing the way your nipples hardened as the cold air brushed your skin. When you leaned back again, he dragged the tips of his fingers up your thighs, gripping your waist for a moment before another demand left his lips.

"Spread your pretty legs," his soothing voice told you, staring intently between your thighs. You did as you were told, parting your knees, your feet propped up on the bed as you waited with bated breath for his next instruction, feeling yourself throb behind the drenched fabric.

"Now touch yourself." You gulped at his tone, sliding your fingers inside your panties. He suddenly called out your name in a warning, his voice alone stopping your hand in its tracks. "Over your panties, I'll tell you when to touch yourself directly."

You nodded, letting your fingers hover over the fabric of your panties. You let out a gasp when you felt how drenched you were before you found your clit. You were hyperaware of every movement you were making, you realized, and it turned you on way more than it should. You choked on your next moan, squeezing your eyes shut as felt the sensation growing along your body.

You suddenly felt a hand gripping your jaw and you quickly opened your eyes, greeted by him staring down at you. "Keep your eyes on me."

There was nothing else for you to do but to oblige. Your fingers continued to press down your clit, swirling around the sensitive bud desperately as he released his hold on your jaw before trailing down your chest, teasing your aching nipples. You whimpered and watched as his eyes traveled down your body.

Spencer hungrily took in the way your legs were spread apart before him, the way you were touching yourself so eagerly. Your fingers moved rapidly over your panties, the material now too drenched as it slipped between your folds every time you moved. Your pussy was barely covered and he could see your arousal dripping down your legs.

"Look at you," he mused, his hand traveling down your body, resting slightly at the inner part of your thigh. "You like putting on a little show, don't you?"

Your breaths came out in shallow, eager gasps, but when you attempted to increase your pace, he quickly shook his head. "Slower. We don't want to rush."

You complied, adjusting your movements to match his pace, and he rewarded you with a smile. "That's it. Nice and slow," he praised, his gaze locked on yours with intensity.

Through hooded eyes, you watched as he began to undress, each deliberate movement teasingly slow. His tie came first, followed by his shirt which he discarded carelessly onto the floor. His pants followed suit, and when he was completely naked, your eyes hungrily drank in the sight of his exposed body.

Your fingers on your own body slowed down as you took in the sight before you, the way he slowly gripped the base of his cock before squeezing it hard.

"Don't you stop, I didn't tell you to stop," he reminded you, his voice firm.

With a sharp inhale, you resumed your movements, the urgency returning as you focused on pleasuring yourself under his watchful gaze. Then as if to taunt you, he began pumping his length slow and steady as your eyes focused in on the motions.

"S-Spence," you whined, pushing your hips faster against your hand, trying to keep your rhythm in check though the sight of him pleasuring himself had you so weak in the moment. "I- I wanna take my panties off."

He gripped his cock tighter, working his fist quicker along the length as his breaths deepened. "Yeah? You wanna see how wet you are?"

His words sent a surge of warmth through your body, spreading from between your thighs to your cheeks as your fingers quickened in pace and your legs spread further for him to see. "Yes-yes- please," you begged.

"Such a desperate slut," he muttered. His crude words shouldn't have brought you pleasure, but they did, and your tight walls clenched around nothing. He noticed the effect it had on you and smiled. "You liked that, huh? You liked being called a slut?"

You gulped, your fingers moving faster. "Y-Yes."

He simply hummed in response, snaking his hands between you, finally slipping off your panties down your legs. His fingers then gripped the soft plush of your thigh, spreading you open for him, exposing your cunt to the open air as he massaged soothing shapes into your skin.

He sucked in a harsh breath through his teeth, taking in the mess between your legs. His gaze traveled your stomach, up to your perky breasts, before meeting your half-lidded eyes. He then slowly took your hand and your jaw slacked open when he abruptly sucked your fingers into his mouth.

His tongue felt hot, searingly so, as he laves over the pads of your middle and ring fingers, then dipped between them to caress your knuckles down to where they meet. A wave of heat traveled through you as he held your gaze, licking off your fingers one last time before guiding them back between your thighs.

"Keep going," he instructed, and you wasted no time in rubbing your clit feverishly. Your face twisted with pleasure, brow wrinkled, body tense, and each circle around your sensitive flesh brought you closer to the edge. The bedroom was filled with the sounds of crisp, rustling sheets underneath you and the slick motions of your fingers roaming your folds.

"Do you hear that? You're getting so loud. So wet," he gritted out. His eyes flickered up to your face, observing the delicate scrunch of your nose and your parted lips. "You're close, aren't you?"

You looked over to him. The view of his hand gripping his cock drew you so close to the edge you were balancing on, all the while attempting to feign control to give him the show he requested.

"Y- Yes," you admitted breathlessly, your body trembling with need.

He hummed a reply, soothing your thigh with his other hand. "Be a good girl and beg for it."

A choked whine escaped your lips.

"P-Please, let me come," you pleaded, the desperation evident in your voice as you sought his permission to release the tension coiling in your stomach.

"Ask nicely," he said, his tone firm yet encouraging. "Can I what?"

"Can I... I-I come?" you stammered, your eyes fluttering close, fingers moving rapidly on your clit.

"Look at me. Ask again."

Your eyes flickered open, meeting his intense gaze. "Can I-I come?" you begged, the desperation in your voice echoing your urgent desire.

"I can't hear you."

A moan ripped out of you, your body shaking uncontrollably under his gaze. Tears threatened to spill from the corners of your eyes as you struggled to hold on. "P-Please," you pleaded, your voice trembling with need. "Please let me come, I-I can't hold on much longer..."

"Louder," he demanded, his voice cutting through the haze of your desire, and that was when everything snapped. It was no longer a plea; instead, you were babbling incoherent words, unable to contain the overwhelming need coursing through your body.

"I-I'm s-sorry, I-I can't—" you cried, your voice strained with the effort of holding back.

But it was too late. Your resolve shattered, overwhelmed by the intensity of your desire. With a tear falling down your cheek, you locked eyes with him desperately as your climax crashed over you, consuming you entirely in its wave of ecstasy. It crept up on you, a gentle crescendo that abruptly peaked before slamming right into you.

Something in him snapped. Spencer never imagined he would enjoy having this much control over your body, but in this moment, he did. It was twisted, and although a hint of remorse flickered within him, his desire overpowered any sense of guilt.

Even as your body trembled uncontrollably from the intensity of your orgasm, he acted on impulse, flipping you over to lie on your stomach. The shift in position only fueled his desire further, igniting a primal need to dominate and possess you completely.

A moment later his hand came down on your ass with a sharp smack that drew a gasp out of you. He then crawled over you as his knees landed on either side of your thighs, the mattress bowing under his weight. Both of his hands dropped roughly down onto your ass, kneading the soft flesh.

You felt him lining his cock up with your entrance, your eyes closing in anticipation of him filling you. And then he plunged himself into you in one swift, sharp thrust which had your head dropping down into your pillow, burying your face in it as you tried to muffle the cry of pleasure that flew out of you.

He began pumping into you, his pace was slow at first, long strokes of drawing his cock out and back in earning quiet whimpers from you against the pillow. One of his hands released your hip before you felt him grabbing a fistful of your hair, just at the base of your skull, and sharply pulling.

"Stop burying yourself," he grunted. "Let me hear those pretty sounds."

You let out a moan, body shaking with every thrust of his hips, the room spinning as he picked up his pace. You felt the slow withdrawal of his cock as his hips drew back from you, but you weren't prepared for the way he rammed himself swiftly forward into you seconds after while tightening his grip on your hair.

A high-pitched, breathy noise of pleasure tore out of you at the feel of it. Encouraged, he repeated the gesture, the tug on your hair even rougher. You moaned loudly in response, your hips beginning to eagerly press backward into him as he brutally fucked you into the mattress.

"That's my girl," he praised. "Just like that, let me hear how good my cock makes you feel."

Your eyelids grew heavy under the weight of his words, your mouth going slack. Spencer was as loud as you as he repeatedly buried his cock in you over and over again. It didn't take long before his vicious thrusts had your eyes rolling back behind closed lids, your mind going entirely blank to everything but this very moment.

He then lowered onto his left forearm as his front molded over your back. The hard, solid feel of him behind you had you pressing back up into him, teeth gritting together as his cock buried itself somehow further inside of you. He released his grip on your hair, his hand swiftly moving to encircle your throat.

A moan escaped your lips as you felt the slight pressure of his grip, a surge of arousal coursing through you. His hand slid up further, encircling the bottom of your jaw as he carefully pulled your head backward, drawing it towards his shoulder until his mouth was beside your ear.

"Is this what you wanted?" Your breath hitched at his proximity, the heat of his body searing against your back as you struggled to form a coherent response. You could only manage a breathless nod in response.

"Let's see how far I can ruin you," he murmured, his voice a seductive whisper that sent a thrill through you despite the underlying threat in his words.

As his grip on your throat tightened ever so slightly, you couldn't suppress the moan that escaped your lips, surrendering completely as he picked up his pace, his hips rocking more rapidly into you. You were panting hard, your head tilted back against his shoulder.

His lips pressed onto the sensitive spot just between your shoulder and your neck, sucking on the skin while he mercilessly fucked you, his sweat-slicked body still flush to the back of you as he continued his fast, relentless pace. You were vaguely aware of his ragged, drawn-out groan and you could tell he was close.

It was evident in the way he was starting to lose control, his grip tightening around your throat as his breath grew hot and heavy against you. He was on the brink of spiraling, and you welcomed it, giving yourself over completely to please him.

"T-That's it, baby," you moaned. "You fuck me so good."

It was enough to make him come undone. He released inside of you, panting and huffing as he gave into the bliss. His motions slowed but he continued spilling inside your drenched walls, sweat beading against his forehead, lips parted, and face flushed. You squeezed yourself around him just to hear him suck in a sharp breath, gulping and exhaling with his brow wrinkled before he pulled out.

But when you thought he was done with you, he flipped you onto your back again. You were so wonderfully disheveled, your cunt clenching around nothing, gleaming with your arousal and his own release. He ran his fingers over your outer lips, spreading you open to have a better view of the white liquid trickling down your ass. He was quick to collect it with his fingers, tracing it up your folds so he could messily rub it over your clit.

"S-Spence..."

Spencer was known for his aversion to getting dirty, yet he didn't mind the mess he made between your legs. "You should see yourself," he muttered. "You're so pretty like this."

And then to your surprise, he positioned the tip of his cock right at your entrance again. You gasped, prompting yourself on your elbows as you looked down between your legs, wondering how on earth he was still so hard. Then a moan left your lips as you watched him slowly sinking into you again.

"Look at how I'm stretching you," he murmured, pushing his hips further. Both of your eyes were locked on the way your pussy stretched so wide around his girth. His previous release slipped back inside you every time his cock disappeared into your wet cunt, white cream coating around his length.

He moaned when your walls clenched around him, his eyes flickering between your face and the way his cock was stretching you. Spencer should have stopped. You were both too tired and too sensitive to continue further. Even his body ached with exhaustion, but he couldn't stop himself from thrusting forward as your walls swallowed his cock eagerly, practically begging for more.

The rational part of his brain urged him to pause, but the primal, carnal desire within him overrode any sense of restraint. Ignoring the way your body shook with exhaustion and the tension in his own muscles, he focused solely on the intense heat between your legs. So he continued to fuck you.

He was fucking you to the point where you couldn't even moan anymore, your voice caught in your throat with each thrust. He was fucking you so good there were tears in your eyes but you couldn't whimper or blink, you were just staring up at him, wordless and in awe, nails digging in his arms while your knees brushed up close to your shoulders.

He was fucking you roughly, dipping down every so often to press his lips to yours, the times he was not whispering encouragement, telling you how pretty you look, how wet you were, how much of a slut you were, and good you felt wrapped around him. And you could feel it, you could feel how good you were as your walls clamped down, sucking him in.

He thrust into you ruthlessly, consumed by a primal need to push you to your limits, to explore just how much you could take of him. Then when you felt that coil spreading along your limbs, you finally came without saying a word. But he didn't stop, continuing to fuck you into your next orgasm, and even when the sensation began to feel too overwhelming, he abused your clit with his thumb.

That was when everything blurred. The overwhelming pleasure finally consumed you entirely, rendering rational thought as a surge of liquid gushed out between your legs. He moaned in surprise at the sensation, his desire only fueled further by your response.

"Do that again," he begged, his voice husky with need as he continued to roll his hips into you. And you did, another wave of pleasure crashing over you as you drenched everything around you—his body, the sheets, every surface within reach. He moaned again, acutely aware of the mess you created.

Your grip on him slowly loosened and a pang of guilt hit him as he realized your body was already exhausted. Yet he couldn't resist the urge to use you once more. Your silence urged him to continue, thrusting into you relentlessly, your slicked-sweat skin sliding against his as he chased his second orgasm of the night.

He finally came with a grunt, his hips pumping into you with desperation, once, twice, before finally stilling. You cried out at the sensation, overwhelmed by the intensity of it all—the quickening of his breath, the hard grip of his hand on your skin, the throbbing ache between your legs.

Your vision suddenly became a hazy blur, and you gasped for breath, struggling to anchor yourself amidst the overwhelming sensations coursing through your body. Despite your shaking form, Spencer managed to pull you into his embrace.

“I-I got you," he whispered, his voice trembling with a mixture of emotions as the rush of dominance that had driven him moments ago was replaced by a wave of panic. He continued to hold you close, his arms wrapped around you protectively as he whispered soothing words into your ear.

You focused on controlling your breathing, inhaling and exhaling slowly as you sought to regain your composure. Gradually, the haze began to lift, and after a moment passed, you found yourself able to see clearly once again. Your eyes traveled to him, and with a tired and sleepy smile, you leaned into his touch.

Spencer released a breath he wasn't aware of holding. "We are never doing that again."

"What? Why?" you asked, confusion evident in your voice.

"You scared me!" he exclaimed, his voice tinged with both relief and exasperation. "What if you passed out? What if I had to take you to the hospital and—and explain that—"

"That I passed out because your dick was too good?"

He shook his head, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "You're impossible," he teased, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

You grinned up at him, feeling a warmth spread through you at his affectionate gesture. "But you love me anyway."

His smile softened as he gazed down at you. "I do."

"And I love you," you assured him. "Don't worry, I'm alright. And be honest with me, you seriously don't want to do that again? Wasn't that hot?"

His cheeks flushed slightly at your question, and he hesitated for a moment before meeting your gaze. "It was..." he began, his voice trailing off as he searched for the right words. "Intense," he finally admitted, a hint of uncertainty in his tone. "But maybe we should take it slow next time."

"Spencer, you were the one that kept going."

He gave you a sheepish smile. "I guess I got carried away a little," he admitted, a touch of embarrassment coloring his tone.

“A little?”

“Fine, more than a little,” he confessed. “But you didn't stop me either."

"That's because I was enjoying myself."

His embarrassment faded into amusement. "You're going to be the death of me one day, you know that?"

You grinned playfully at his remark. "Only if you're lucky," you teased, a mischievous twinkle in your eye.

Spencer chuckled, shaking his head fondly as he reached out to brush a stray strand of hair from your face. He studied you, taking in the warmth in your eyes and the happy but serene smile that graced your lips as a surge of affection washed over him. "Then I must be the luckiest man alive."

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6K notes · View notes

sweatervest-obsessed · 5 months

Text

Unexpected Visitor

Pairing: Spencer Reid x G!n Reader

WC: 788

A/N: A lil Spencer Xmas Blurb while I figure my shit out. Also! I'm imagining older seasons Spencer for this one.

"Hi! I'm, uh, so sorry to bug you but, um, do you know where Spe--Doctor Reid's desk is? Or, really, where D-Doctor Reid is?" .

Derek Morgan had to get his shit together because his jaw almost dropped when you walked in. What was some hot piece of ass doing, dressed like that, looking for Boy Genius.

He jumped up from his chair and strolled over to where you had stopped Garcia, who was just as flabbergasted as he was. "Reid is currently in a meeting sweetheart--may I ask what you, uh, want with him?"

You raised your eyebrows at the 'sweetheart', but smiled anyways. "He was supposed to be home about an hour ago and he wasn't answering his phone, so instead of panicking, because I know what you do for work, I wanted to come in and check before I lost my shit."

"Home?" Garcia squeaked out, still baffafled by how gorgeous you looked. It was like you were sent straight from heaven, a literal vision.

You nodded and tilted your head, slightly confused. "Y-Yeah...I'm sorry why is that---"

"We just didn't know Reid was living with anyone, let alone seeing someone."

"Ah." You nodded. "He's private like that, isn't he." Your smile warmed the two of them, and you shifted the coat from one arm to the other.

"y/n?"

You turned your head towards the back of the bullpen, and Spencer was walking out of Hatch's office. "What are you doing here?"

"Being introduced to your friends and coworkers since you haven't."

Spencer bit the inside of his cheeks and walked over to you both, placing his hand on the small of your back. You felt how tense he was.

"I'm here because our reservation is in twenty minutes and you said you'd be home over an hour ago." You looked at Spencer, whose eyes went a little wide.

"Shit. I-I didn't realize what time it was---"

"I have your suit in the car, and this is why I made the reservation for eight pm, instead of Seven."

"And this is why I love you." Spencer kissed your head and rushed over to his desk, scrambling to grab all of his papers and his bag and his coat and his scarf and his--

"Hi Y/n." Spencer looked up at the mention of your name, pausing in his frantic nature.

"Hi Aaron." You gave him a quick hug, but a bright smile. "How are you?"

"Well." He laughed a little. "I'd be better if we didn't have to work the day before Christmas Eve since I still need to wrap all of Jack's presents still."

"Oh how is Jack!"

"He's doing well. finally starting to enjoy reading, no thanks to you."

You laughed at his joke, all the while Derek and Garcia just shared an incredulous look. How the hell did you know Hotch? Jack?!? Why does Jack's reading habits connect to you--

"Ready sweetheart?" Spencer appeared at your side and you nodded. "It was lovely to see you Aaron. I'll stop by some time tomorrow to drop off Jack's gifts as well as yours. I got it when Spence I and went to Paris last month. I think you'll enjoy it!"

"That's why you weren't here for two weeks?" Penelope's jaw was on the floor. "I didn't take you to be a Parisian man Doctor Reid."

"W-Well, um--"

"It was for my birthday. My choice. I love art and museums so it made sense. Well, it was lovely to meet you all but we have a reservation to get to." You gave them all a quick smile before taking Spencer's hand and walking towards the elevator, your shoes clicking on the floor with every step you took.

"How long have the two of them been together?" Morgan turned to Hotch after you both had gotten in the elevator.

"I think today is their two year anniversary."

"TWO YEARS." Garcia clutched her hypothetical pearls. "How have I not known? How have WE not known?"

"He's private, and...well. You know Y/n."

"No we clearly do not know Hotch."

Hotch gave them a little smirk and a shrug. "Merry Christmas guys. I'll see you on the twenty-seventh."

As Hotch walked away, Garcia and Morgan just stared at one another. "So we're..."

"Going to spend then next ten minutes in my office finding everything out about this mystery person Spencer has been apparently dating for two years?"

"You read my mind mama. A little Christmas snooping never hurt anyone..."

5K notes · View notes

reiderwriter · 5 months

Note

Can I request a Spencer babying the reader BAU and everyone on the team is so done with it but reader is confused and oblivious...?

A/N: Thank you for your request! I've been very much feeling post-Prison/ later seasons Spencer recently, so I hope you enjoy this fic!

Warnings: mostly fluff, implied age-gap, slight mentor/mentee dynamic.

Your first year in the BAU would've been tough had it not been for Doctor Spencer Reid.

It was tough still, but without him, you don't think you'd have been able to handle much of it. He'd been your mentor through each case, taking you under his wing when he wasn't on academic leave, teaching his criminology courses at the FBI Academy.

Those weeks were the hardest, and you found yourself moping about in the office, texting him once or twice a trip for advice.

On one particularly hard case, he'd come back into the office after you'd text. Not to consult on the case, but just to drop you off a chamomile tea and a pastry to brighten your day that little bit.

When he was back, your days were great. He knew so much, and you learnt so much from him so quickly, eagerly consuming his every word. You were so eager to please him that you often forgot others around the two of you.

“Spencer, if you're done fawning after Y/N we have a case to work on,” Emily gently chastised the man as he pulled out your chair for you, ready to sit down to hear the details of your next crime.

“Oh, Emily, thank you, but it's okay. Doctor Reid was just being considerate, I'm sure he'd have done it for anyone.” The shared glances around the room were filled with glib secrecy, but no-one commented further, leaving you slightly baffled.

Those shared looks between the other members of your team had become more common as of late, with each one more worrisome than the next. There was something unsettling about being the only one out of the loop, and as the newest member of the team, and the youngest, it often felt disheartening.

“Y/N, don't worry. Being the youngest member of any team is tough, but you're smart and you're holding your own.” With a pat to your head he walked away, lifting the weight off your shoulders slightly but not fully. You needed to get to the bottom of the BAU's non-verbal communications, and you needed answers.

Your first technique was interrogation. Surely one of them would break and tell you if you laid out your thoughts and feelings clearly.

Surely not, you found, as each member casually and softly blew you off.

“Y/N, you just need to think carefully about how certain members of the team act towards you. How familiar they are. How overly familiar they are.” Tara had at least told you that much, bit it had left you just as confused as the radio silence from the others.

“Everyone has behaved very professionally with me. You've all been very welcoming up to this point, which I appreciate greatly.”

“I wouldn't count gifting you flowers for your first successful case as the most professional act, Y/N,” she said as she sipped her coffee. “But I suppose that is just up to interpretation.

Doctor Reid had sent you flowers after you finished your first case. But there had been extenuating circumstances in that case. You'd both worked on the geographical profile on that case, and together had figured out the species of flower the unsub was using was only cultivated on one local flower orchard. It had cracked the case open and you'd found your unsub hours later.

So the flowers were an extension of that small joint success. That was all.

Your second attempt at figuring out what was going on was observation.

Partially taking Tara’s advice, you tried your best to track the moments when each of the weary looks would come your way.

Overwhelmingly, they seemed to be directed towards Doctor Reid whenever the two of you interacted.

You had to gently inform him of this, before it interrupted both of your abilities to work.

“Doctor Reid, do you know why Emily and Rossi are both currently watching us from between the blinds in their offices?” You whispered to the man, leaning in close to his ear. You were quite sure he didn't know, but a question seemed as good a way as any to broach the topic.

“I do, yes. It's best if you ignore them.”

His nonchalance in the matter shocked you, so sure you were that this would be news to him. You waited for him to elaborate, but he didn't.

“Why are they staring at us?” You finally managed to force the words out in a small squeak, forcing his eyes back to yours.

“Don't worry about it for now, I'll handle it.” He smiled down as you, and the bright gesture washed away more of the tension you'd been feeling in the office. You smiled back at him as he rose from his desk chair and carried himself to the stairs. You giggled when he winked down at you, just as you noticed Emily frantically hurrying away from her office window as Spencer knocked on her door.

As much as he told you to not worry about it all though, you really couldn't help yourself. You found yourself growing more clumsy under the watchful eyes of your entire team, galling more times than you'd care to admit into Doctor Reid's arms. He always caught you, though, and you were thankful you never did yourself serious injury.

You finally got the answers you'd craved out on a case about a month into your struggles.

There was something slightly unsettling about the way the female Sheriff was paying attention to Doctor Reid, and it made you uncomfortable. Your mouth ran dry when she touched his arm, but a small part of you warmed up again when he shrugged her off. Until, at least, you heard him explain why.

“I'm sorry, I'm a germophobe, so I'd really prefer you not touch me.” His voice was calm and steady; it really didn't seem like he was lying.

“You're not pulling my leg? I'm sorry if I came on too strong, but-”

“Why would I pull your leg, I said I don't like physical touch?”

“Well, there was that young girl earlier, Y/N was it? You had your hand on her back as you walked in, so I didn't think…”

The woman had made a good point, and you crept closer to the edge of the door to hear Doctor Reid - Spencer's response.

“Sheriff, if we're done here, do you think I could get back to my job?” You were almost disappointed in the change of topic, but you weren't all that sad to see the Sheriff remove herself from the room. Slipping in behind her you decided to test the new theory that had slipped into your mind in the last minutes.

You called out to him to grab his attention as you walked into the room but before he had the chance to turn and greet you, you threw your arms around his shoulders and pressed your body down against his, enveloping him in a back hug.

It was quite possibly the most familiar position you'd been in with him, but really it wasn't all that different from your usual proximity.

Unlike when the Sheriff casually brushed against him, he didn't stiffen, didn't pull away, but instead melted into your touch, looking up at you with a large grin.

You stood shocked for a minute before grinning back.

“Spencer, I think I know why everyone has been watching us for the last few weeks.” You said, causing his eyes to panic slightly as he acknowledged your words.

“The, uh, the Sheriff was just in here talking about a development either some of the DNA test results-” He desperately tried to change the subject, but you were locked in now, spinning his chair around to face you more as you came eye-to-eye with him.

“I know why the Sheriff was in here, Spencer, I heard it all.”

“It's not what you think,” you paused for a moment as your brow furrowed, trying to figure out if you'd somehow caught the wrong end of the stick.

“So our coworkers haven't been waiting for you to ask me out, having noticed large changes in your body language and attitude around me?”

“It's….exactly as you think.” His face was flushed with pink and your heart skipped a beat at the man in front of you. But you still had some questions.

“And you knew, but you didn't say anything to me despite the fact that I bought it up multiple times?”

“I'm…I'm not good with words," he frowned

“Are you good with dates?”

“Excuse me?”

“You're going to take me on a date when we get back to Quantico. After giving it some thought, Doctor Reid, it seems I've become quite enamoured of you.” You dropped into his lap then, sitting there like a cat pleased to take up residence on its owners legs. He stuttered for a few seconds but then found his voice again, face lighting up.

“Spencer. Please, Y/N, call me Spencer.”

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