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prismuffin · 1 year

Text

Masterlist 2:

Full Fanfic Masterlist

Marvel:

How Peter Parker and Steve Rogers react to their crush asking to play with their hair

Hobie Brown helping trans!male!Reader with dysphoria Hobie Brown reminding ftm!Reader not to overbind Hobie Brown turning into a cat and causing chaos in the SpiderSociety

How Miles Morales acts on a rooftop date with another hero Miles Morales reacting to grieving reader Miles Morales being caught wearing his guy crushes hoodie Miles Morales reacting to his crush suddenly asking him out in the middle of a normal conversation Miles Morales with a younger!sister!reader

Platonic!Miguel O'Hara comforting transmale reader after a breakdown Miguel O'Hara reacting to reader coming out as trans (ftm)

Miles Morales and Hobie Brown (separate) reacting to male!Reader with brain issues Miles Morales and Hobie Brown (separate) reacting to male!Reader getting a good grade on an exam

Pavitr Prabhakar and german!male!Reader bonding by learning about each other's cultures

SpiderTeens reacting to gn reader adopting them all

Stranger Things:

Nothing yet!

The Umbrella Academy:

Nothing yet!

Criminal Minds:

Nothing yet!

Hitman Trilogy:

Nothing yet!

Mission: Impossible:

Nothing yet!

FarCry 5:

Nothing yet!

Valorant:

Nothing yet!

Detroit Become Human:

Connor helping male!trans!reader with testosterone shots Connor helping gn!Reader calm down from a panic attack Connor with a s/o who's a maladaptive daydreamer Connor with an insomniac s/o Connor with a s/o who's a wild/active sleeper

Our Life Beginnings & Always:

Nothing yet!

Error 143:

Nothing yet!

Sally Face:

Nothing yet!

WatchDogs Trilogy:

Nothing yet!

COD: Modern Warfare2:

John Price dealing with being a sleep talker

Konig reacting to short!male!Reader climbing him like a tree to see something Konig reacting to short!male!Reader being on his shoulders^^Part 2

Ghost, Konig, and Price (separate) reacting to male!Reader with dermatillomania Ghost and Konig (separate) reacting to having to cuddle up to male!Reader for warmth Ghost and Konig waking up to cuddling male!Reader ^^Part 2 Ghost and Konig (separate) having M!Reader be their gay awakening

The Imperfects:

Nothing yet!

Encanto:

Nothing yet!

Girl From Nowhere:

Nothing yet!

Metal Lords:

Nothing yet!

Dc Universe:

Batfam being jealous of the readers pet/animal Batboys reacting to Tim Drake's "bad-boy" boyfriend Taking care of Batboys (seperately) after they got their wisdom teeth removed Batboys reacting to boyfriend!Reader smacking their ass and running away Batboys + Conner & Wally being caught wearing masc!Readers hoodie Batfam reacting to Tim Drakes boyfriend who is the Jokers son ^^Batfam reacting to Tim Drakes boyfriend who is the Jokers son pt2^^ Batboys reacting to getting hard during training with M!Reader Anthro!Batboys having their ears and tail expose their romantic feelings for male!reader Batfam reacting to Tim Drake making a contract with a demon!male!reader BatBoys reacting to them thinking male!reader called them a goodboy

Sugar Daddy!Bruce Wayne accidentally falling for male!sugar-baby!reader Bruce Wayne with an energetic anti-hero husband

Conner Kent accidentally using X-ray vision on trans!male reader

Male!Justice League members reacting to rogue!reader moving out of Gotham and into their city

Jason Todd reacting to male reader falling asleep on him Jason Todd reacting to a gn reader who can't swim Injured!Jason Todd waking up to Reader in his hospital room

Damian Wayne with a child!brother!Reader Damian Wayne being caught wearing his guy crushes hoodie

Dick Grayson reacting to a very cuddly male reader Dick Grayson waking up his cuddly guy crush Dick Grayson reacting to a sad!male!Reader needing cuddles

Hal Jordan's (Green Lantern) reaction to reader having a lot of lantern rings Hal Jordan (Green Lantern) x recovering!male!Readers Hal Jordan reacting to being bitten by masc!alien!Reader

John Constantine reacting to a food-pusher Reader John Constantine with a werewolf s/o (gn reader) Hungover!John Constantine waking up in a caring Readers bed John Constantine reacting to a male!Reader that reminds him of his younger self ^part 2. John Constantine reacting to similar!male!Reader reading his soul John Constantine being bullied by a cat in a pub John Constantine reacting to a Reader that smokes John Constantine having a demon!Reader be attached to him John Constantine reacting to reader being turned into a baby John Constantine reacting to male!Rader lighting his cigarette with John's

Kid Flash (Wally West) reacting to accidentally courting alien!reader Kid Flash (Wally West) with a night owl boyfriend Kid Flash (Wally West) accidentally petting one of winged!male!Readers arousal zones Kid Flash (Wally West) and winged!male!Reader finally getting together Kid Flash (Wally West) cudding male!naga!Reader Kid Flash (Wally West) with a partner who's part of the BatFamily

Tim Drake reacting to guy crush reader accidentally cuddling him Tim Drake reacting to Rogue!Reader flustering him Tim Drake with a caring and patient boyfriend Tim Drake with a boyfriend who's very physically affectionate

How Superman, Batman, Hal Jordan, The Flash, and John Constantine react to someone handing them the unconscious reader out of the blue How Batman and Superman reacting to their long-term partner being their worst enemy

How Wally West, John Constantine, Hal Jordan, Dick Grayson, and Conner Kent react to falling asleep on their crush (male reader) How Wally West, Dick Grayson, Tim Drake, and Conner Kent taking care of their drunk guy crush How Dick Grayson, Wally West, Tim Drake and Conner Kent react to playing seven minutes in heaven with their guy crush How Dick Grayson, Tim Drake, and John Constantine react to their crush asking to play with their hair How Tim Drake and Damian Wayne react to their crush randomly asking them out in the middle of a conversation (seperate) How Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Wally West and Conner Kent (sperately) react to Alien!Panther!Male!Reader cuddling up to them randomly

How Justice League boys react to empathic color!alien reader turning pink around them How Justice League boys react to male!Reader being turned into a cat How the Young Justice League reacts to a male!Reader with an Eating Disorder

—

Back to directory;

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writeshite · 2 years

Text

Smart Cookie

Summary:

“Huh, impressive, Dr. Reid; you’re a smart cookie.” You hold a door open, and he passes through; confused, he turns back. “Smart cookie?” “Yeah, you know, clever, intelligent,” you explained, “a smart cookie.”

Pairings:

Spencer Reid x Male!Reader

Tags:

Fluff | Inaccurate Laws Probably | First Meetings | Tattooed Reader (Because I Don't See Enough Of That) |

Words: 3871

Author's Note:

Guess what I started watching 😂 but like seriously, I am loving Criminal Minds, and as you can see, Spencer has become my favorite, I just wanna wrap this man in a hug or something.

“Love is friendship that has caught fire. It is quiet understanding, mutual confidence, sharing, and forgiving. It is loyalty through good and bad times. It settles for less than perfection and makes allowances for human weaknesses.”

- Ann Landers

Spencer’s knowledge of romance could be put together in a mountain of anecdotes and books, labeled by theme, source, and moment of discovery - sexuality, unknown source, age 15, conclusion: gay panic. Practical experience, however, could be summed into a blurb on the back of a book and promptly thrown in a fire. Friendship was something far easier; he’d come to learn it later in life - with childhood peers who took pleasure in putting him through the worst of what the American high school hierarchy had to offer - and even now, in adulthood, there were times he would think that those around him much preferred his absence over his presence.

The BAU was a lot kinder than high school was. Still, there were moments when patience would run thin, tempers may flair, or the occasional reminder that now was not the time for a tangent or a pointless anecdote or ‘do you ever shut up?’ or anything else along those lines - he didn’t mind, not like he’d used to as a child, besides, more often than not, the comments came from outside the BAU. Bystanders, police, investigators - very rarely did Spencer feel the need to squeeze himself into a neat little box and present what was deemed desirable to others, at least not until now.

“Nice to meet you, Dr. Reid.”

Change was never readily accepted by the BAU; in regards to new and retiring teammates, it was met with distaste; the change came in the form of you - a recent transfer to the team - your first case with them in Seattle, Washington. An open case, the unsub would stalk their victims and gather intel on them and their lives before attacking; victims had the murder weapons clutched in their right hand and some form of personal belonging stolen by the unsub. Trophies for his collection, his victims, all graduating students from the local university - he had access to the victim’s schedules, details of their personal lives, and used tools at the scene.

“We’ll split up,” Gideon says, “ask around the university, staff, students, and the victim’s families.��

Spencer gets paired with you, questioning the university’s Faculty of Arts, the main focus of the unsub. The Faculty of Arts focuses on creative arts, writing, philosophy, and humanities - the liberal arts - with the campus’ main library in the area. “Wow, this is fancy,” you remark. Fancy’s an understatement; the faculty entrance was grand, with a pediment and columns overhead and the university emblem on a banner at the door. With the recent deaths, fewer students had been attending classes in person; the faculty head, Professor Jody Cunningham, was an older man with dark graying at the edges, a well-trimmed beard, and smoothed clothes.

“Professor Cunningham….” you called his attention, introducing yourself, “....and this is my colleague, Dr. Reid; we’re with the Behavioral Analysis Unit.”

“A pleasure; thank you for coming; we’re all devastated by the news.”

“Did you know the students?” you ask.

Professor Cunningham nods, “They’d just handed in their thesis, and I’d been making my way through before, you know….” he ran a hand down his face, “now, none of my graduates or other students are coming in.”

“The murders all connect back to one of the subjects taught here; the first was arts, the second, humanities; if he’s going by alphabetical order, then the next one should be natural sciences,” Spencer describes the first two victims, their characteristics, similarities, differences, “do you know any graduate students doing the natural sciences who fit that profile?”

“Three students I can think of, though one of them’s not in the States anymore, so it can only be the other two, Jesse Hudson and Lynn Watson. Jesse’s majoring in biology, and his thesis, I believe, was on the role of the clock gene in protection against neural and retinal degeneration; not 100% caught up on what that is yet, Lynn —”

“The clock gene is a major circadian system regulator found in mammals and fruit flies, the latter of which the transcription factors - clock and cycle - combine and stimulate the transcription of the period and timeless genes. The two proteins bind together and enter the cell nucleus, where the timeless gene then begins to degrade and the liberated period gene interacts with the clock and cycle to prevent them from activating gene expression.” His explanation comes to a stop, and he’s hoping he hasn’t managed to weird you out.

You turn to him, “What happens after?”

“What?” He’s dumbfounded, “uh…well…you want to hear me speak more?”

“It’s why I’m asking,” you reply. “If that’s ok, you don’t have to continue if you don’t want to.”

“No, no, I’d love to; I just….people usually ask me to stop talking,” he shrugs. You raise your eyebrows, and he feels giddy, beaming a little; he carries on, even after you’re finished with professor Cunningham, you don’t deter him. Head tilted to glance at him, your undivided attention. “....I read this from an old thesis in my junior year.”

“And you still remember it?”

He nods. “I don’t forget much,” he points to his head, “eidetic memory.”

“Huh, impressive, Dr. Reid; you’re a smart cookie.” You hold a door open, and he passes through; confused, he turns back.

“Smart cookie?”

“Yeah, you know, clever, intelligent,” you explained, “a smart cookie.”

Spencer’s a smart cookie.

He’s a smart cookie.

He’s your smart cookie.

Well, technically, he’s not, but you’re the only one that calls him that nickname, not all the time; of course, you still call him by his name, but you also call him smart cookie. He bounces on his feet when you call him that, a little grin on his face as he turns to you, “What’s got you all happy, cookie?”

“Nothing, just happy to see you too,” he responds earnestly.

“I’d hope so; otherwise, this coffee run would’ve been for nothing,” you remark, placing his order on his desk, a smile on your face; then you go to your desk, to the left of him, and across from Morgan - kick your legs up and lean back on your chair.

“What none for me?” Derek pouts.

“Sorry, only deliver to sweetness,” you wink at Spencer, and he grins.

Morgan fakes offense, “Oh, oh, that’s how it’s going to be, alright. Don’t expect me to play middleman with you and Nick again.”

You snort, “Doubt that’s ever going to happen again,” you tell him, “that ship has sailed.” You move your hand through the air, mimicking a wave.

“Nick?” Spencer asks.

“Morgan’s friend, we hooked up a few times, but it never went anywhere,” you reply.

“Yeah, loverboy here did a hell of a job with him, could barely walk the next day, not that he was complaining,” Derek added on, “Said you had quite the package.”

You throw a pen at Derek, tongue stuck out at him, “TMI Derek,” Elle voiced; she’s just arrived, her own coffee in hand, chuckling while she shakes her head.

“I’m just giving performance reviews,” Derek shrugs.

“Oh god,” you laugh.

Spencer feels a little hot under the collar, knocking his knees lightly to keep his imagination at bay - your voice by his ear, hands roaming his body before settling on his hips, his own arms around your shoulder - he shook his head a little, eyes slightly wide as he sipped the coffee.

“You alright there, cookie?”

“I’ve been meaning to ask, what’s with the cookie nickname?” Elle voices.

You shrug, “Spence’s a smart cookie.”

“That’s a weird name,” Derek says.

“I think it’s adorable,” Elle counters.

“Adorable name for an adorable guy,” you wink again, and Spencer looks away, flustered.

“Well, I’m not adorable….adorableness inspires great affection or delight; you use it to describe someone or something that makes you love or like them, usually because they are….” attractive, he wants to say, but that might imply something and people didn’t like it when he implied things. He’d like you to keep liking him.

“You good there, Reid?” Derek’s voice snaps him from his thoughts, and he nods, finishing off with a lesser, more implicating adjective. Attractive, there was a 50% chance you found him attractive, but he couldn’t get all that information out of a singular nickname, let alone a few interactions - you liked his rambles and tangents, that was something, right? You’d made him an origami heart - that he kept tucked away in his journals - and called it a hint.

“No facts for me today, cookie?” You’re parked just further along the street of your target - a suburban house in Atlanta, one car in the driveway, three bedrooms, and the target of your unsub - Hotch and Gideon were on the opposite end of the street, Elle, and Derek were shacked up in the house across from it. JJ and Garcia were back at base.

“Facts?”

You turn to him, “Yeah.” You tilt your head, and he feels something, the little fluttering in his stomach, his hair brushes by his cheek when he tilts his head as well, and before he can reach up to sweep it away, you beat him to it.

“Sorry.”

“No, it’s alright….” Spencer wishes he’d stopped talking right there, that his mouth just shut or Hotch’s voice filtered through earlier before he laid down his knowledge on human touch and then proceeded to end it with the words love hormone - quite the subtle move. On the plane ride back, Reid feels every muscle in his body knot and stiffen as he goes through the interaction in the car; you’re sat beside him, dozing off with your head propped by the wall. He glances over at you every once in a while, faintly touching the side of his head you’d touched, “love hormone,” he whispers to himself.

Dr. Spencer Reid was something else; when you’d joined the BAU, it took some adjusting, your first case in Seattle was a handful, and the unsub - a student advisor - had access to his victims. He’d begun with the Faculty of Arts, and chosen graduate students from each subject, starting alphabetically; he’d only managed two before you’d caught him. You’d learned that Dr. Reid was intelligent, had an impressive memory, and “....I read this from an old thesis in my junior year.” And his voice was really nice.

He seemed to like the nickname smart cookie, bouncing on his feet and grinning when he responds; he does the same when you greet him either way. “What’s got you all happy?” you ask him after a coffee run.

“Nothing,” he responds, “just happy to see you too.”

“I’d hope so. Otherwise, this coffee run would’ve been for nothing,” you remark, placing the warm drink on his desk. Granted, it’s not really a coffee run; you’d only gotten him coffee, mainly for the smile on his face. You turned to your desk across from Morgan.

“What, none for me?” he pouts.

“Sorry, only deliver to sweetness,” you wink at Spencer, who grins in response as Morgan fakes offense, mouth agape.

“Oh, oh, that’s how it’s going to be, alright. Don’t expect me to play middleman with you and Nick again.”

“Nick?” Spencer asks.

Morgan’s friend Nick had been nice; you’d had a double date with Morgan, and one of his dates, then gone on a few more dates and spent a few nights together, but it hadn’t worked out - nothing personal, but that ship had sailed.

“Yeah, loverboy here did a hell of a job with him, could barely walk the next day, not that he was complaining, said you had quite the package,” you threw a pen at Derek, groaning, as Elle regretted walking into work at this moment and hearing the tail end of that conversation. Spencer goes quiet, and his eyes dart away as he sips his drink, a blush creeping along his face.

“You alright there, cookie?” you ask him, and he turns his attention back to you with a small smile.

“I’ve been meaning to ask, what’s with the cookie nickname?” Elle asks; she looks between you and Spencer.

You shrug, “Spence’s a smart cookie.”

“That’s a weird name,” Derek says.

“I think it’s adorable,” Elle counters.

“Adorable name for an adorable guy,” you wink again, and Spencer looks away, flustered.

“Well, I’m not adorable….adorableness inspires great affection or delight; you use it to describe someone or something that makes you love or like them, usually because they are….” he doesn’t finish right away, stalling, as you assume he gathers his words. You’re not sure what he was supposed to say, but you don’t think it was “....small.” Even after, he looks deep in thought, mind wandering away from the present.

You don’t think about it much and proceed with your day; it’s a slow day at the BAU, so paperwork seems to be the main task today, though there’s not much of it, so the majority of the day is spent idling by each other’s desks. You’ve been throwing scrunched-up paper balls at each other; Spencer had started off on the discovery of paper, then its distribution globally, and was now on its more uncommon uses. “....and you could use the paper to make worthless currency.”

“Like Monopoly money?” you question.

“Probably.”

You toss back the paper, and when he catches it this time, he unfolds it and refolds it into a swan, “You can also use it to make origami, though I wouldn’t consider that an uncommon use.”

When he hands you the swan, you take another piece of paper, fold it into a heart, you drop it in his hand, “You can also use it to leave hints,” you say, and he stares down at the heart, rosy-cheeked.

Dr. Reid was also easy to fluster.

“No facts for me today, cookie?” you ask him during surveillance; the house is empty, a decoy set in place to catch the unsub, surrounded on all sides; now all you had to do was wait.

“Facts?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you turn to him, tucking his hair back, his eyes widen again, and a blush runs along his cheeks. You apologize, withdrawing your hand.

“No, it’s alright….touch builds up cooperative relationships and reinforces reciprocity, and studies show that it signifies safety and trust. Basic touch can calm cardiovascular stress and activate the body’s vagus nerve, which is involved with our compassionate response. A simple touch can trigger the release of oxytocin, the, uh, love hormone,” he pauses, “why did I say that?”

“We’ve got movement.” Hotch’s voice interjects before anything else can be said, and you’re both out of the car, guns drawn as you track up to the house. The unsub tries to run back through the back, but Morgan’s waiting for him, knocking him down before he can escape. You don’t stick around in Atlanta, exhausted; you all pile into the plane, and you’re out; you wake to Spencer tapping your shoulder.

You stretch your arms, “Thanks for waking me, cookie.”

“No problem,” he responds.

You’re out the second your head hits the pillow, and wake up uncomfortably in yesterday’s suit. The new apartment looks homier and less empty, with most of your things already set out; you toss the old clothes in the hamper and get ready - shower, teeth, breakfast, and out the door. It’s a warm morning, so you carry your jacket in your hand.

“Damn, loverboy, I didn’t know you had sleeves.” You’d bumped into Derek on the way in, and he’d been immediately drawn to the ink on your arms.

“Oh, these old things,” you quip, “they’re nothing special.”

He whistles, and you lightly smack his arm, “Oh, shut up.” Derek wasn’t the only one taken back by the tattoos; the others were either shocked or intrigued, gathering by your desk to gander at them.

“Never, ever, keep your sleeves down again,” Garcia pleads.

“I’ll try,” you chuckle.

Spencer walks in last and takes a double glance at you, “You have tattoos? Wow,” he pauses, “wow.”

The others soon dissipate, but Spencer lingers a bit, looking between you and the ink; he reaches out but then hesitates, you hold out your arm and nod, and he traces the imagery. “That's one of my favorites,” you comment on the one he’s tracing.

“It’s beautifully detailed,” he observes, “they all are.”

“Thanks, I’ve had them done over the years,” you say. He traces the lines to your fingers, and when he finishes, he moves to the other arm - he gives you facts on the origins of tattoos and asks about some of your tattoos. You get lost in your own world, carrying on with the conversation as you’re called in for a briefing.

“What about this one?”

Spencer fixates on your tattoos, tracing them over and over, eyes following his fingers as they go over the lines again, “My second tattoo, got it a few months after my first one on my birthday.”

“What was your first one?” You’re going through paperwork looking for clues and hints to lead you to the unsub, “It’s a spinal tattoo,” you tell him and his eyes widen, “I can show you if you’re curious.”

He brings a folder to his face, a nervous laugh, and he looks like he’s considering it; he shrugs a little, “Only if you want,” he murmurs.

“Oh, cookie, I could eat you up,” you reply, and he makes a sound of amusement or surprise, or maybe it’s giddiness - as he kicks his legs a bit.

“Hey Morgan, how does dating work?”

Morgan slowly lowers the paper in his hand; it lays on his desk as he leans forward and glances over at Spencer. “Come again?”

“How does dating work?” Spencer repeats, “I assume you’re the most adept at this matter, I mean, I know how it works, but I’m also not…are you alright? Your face is doing —” Spencer gestures uncertainly.

“Just….just savoring this moment, " he replies, smiling, “I know something you don’t,” he cheers.

“I don’t not know about dating, I’m aware of it from societal expectations, facets, and data, but I lack the field experience.”

“Don’t,” Morgan holds his hands up, “don’t ruin the moment,” then he’s back, a smirk on his face; he asks, “Is it loverboy?” Spencer nodded; Morgan clapped his hands, a satisfied grin on his face, “I knew it!” he whispered before returning to the matter at hand, “So,” he cleared his throat, hands together on his desk, “dating.”

“Yes.”

“We’ll start simple; what do you know about dating? Not the facts, just the practical, like have you ever been on a date?”

“No, well, there was this one time I did get asked out by this girl in my class; we decided to go to the local park, but then I overheard her tell her friends it was a prank and they were going to douse me in some concoction, so I didn’t go,” he responds, “does that count?”

Derek shakes his head, “No, it does not, and are you ok?”

“Oh, yeah, it was a long time ago,” he shrugs, “so, what do I do about —” he winds his hands in a circular motion. “Is there a set of words I should say? Are there things I’m expected to do?”

“No, no, look,” Derek replied, “just, he likes you, for you, so don’t worry, just be yourself.”

“Be myself, huh? That’s the first time someone’s said I should do that,” he remarks. “Wait, how do you know he likes me?”

Derek raised an eyebrow, “He looks at you like the sun shines out of your ass,” he responded, “trust me, he likes you.” Spencer would like to believe Derek, and he does, but the little nagging voice in the recess of his mind, he starts wringing his hands a little and runs them along his pants to calm his nerves. “Hey,” Spencer glances up; Derek’s moved from his seat to his desk to his, leaning, “he likes you, ok?”

“How can you be sure?” Spencer purses his lips, twisting the strap of his bag, “He doesn’t deviate from how he acts when he interacts with all of us, he flirts with you just as much as he does with me, and Garcia, and Elle —”

“Why don’t you just ask him,” Derek points to the brief room; you’re currently standing by the door to it in deep conversation with Garcia. Spencer turns back and shakes his head.

“I think he’s busy; I —I’ll do it later.”

Later, in layman’s terms, really meant not ever. Preferably on his deathbed if he had to, but now that he’d asked Derek, any moment he’d look over, Derek would gesture to you, head tilted towards where you’d gone or were. Sometimes he’d mimic movements with his hand - one hand you, the other him, and they’d smoosh together into a kiss - then he’d groan, running a hand down his face when Spencer would shake his head frantically.

He’d like to avoid you and give a chance for the infatuation to die, but either he can’t bring himself to or doesn’t want to. He’s been playing the potential outcomes in his mind, he could confess, get turned down, and you’d remain friends, or he’d confess, get horribly rejected and then never see you again, or he could confess, and you could return the feelings. Considering all the options, he won’t be doing anything; he’ll just let this float away.

“You’re staring, cookie.” It’s the two of you in the kitchenette, no case, just tying up loose ends. “What’s going on in that mind of yours?”

“A potential hypothesis,” he responds.

“Oh yeah, what about?”

“Uh….I’m not sure how to put it into words,” he responds.

“Well, that’s a first,” you laugh, turning away from the kettle heating, “come on, give it a go.”

He nervously rubs his hands together, “Actually….it might be easier if I–I demonstrated it.”

“In the kitchen?” You ask, and he nods, asking you to close your eyes; you raise an eyebrow.

“Just trust me,” he begs, “....please.”

You do so, and there’s a split second where you can hear him mutter to himself - you can do this, come on - there’s a soft push against your lips, and it takes you a moment to realize he’d kissed you, holding your wrist to balance and ground himself, and then it’s gone. Your eyes open, and Spencer’s pursing his lips, hands wrangling more intensely, “R–results?” He’s not just asking; he’s hoping, the subtle worry underneath his voice as he waits for an answer.

You take one of his hands and reel him back in with a slight tug, and he looks so terrified as if bracing himself for the worst, so you kiss him, hoping it displaces any of his fears - Spencer clings to you, even after, your bodies are flush as he hides away in your arms; drawing back every once in a while to look at you, before shying away, a frivolous laugh caught in his throat.

“Good?” You inquire, and he nods.

“Very good.”

End Note:

I apologize profusely for using the word cookie as a nickname for Spencer, but I named the fic and got committed so you get to suffer with me. Stay Hydrated.

#spencer reid x male reader #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds imagine #i spent an hour looking through quotes because big brain said 'start off fic with quote that foreshadows what you're gonna write about'#tattooed!reader #smart cookie universe :)

1K notes · View notes

evemarielouis · 7 months

Text

"aww, doc", cheek pressed against her knee, left leg against her chest & the other folded underneath her. she is pale as a shard of glass, sharp as one too. an illusion of a girl, a knife masquerading as a good time : she has always been that way. you would think that after months of custody, her criminal nature would blossom in horrid thorns all over her thin body; and yet the girl is as beautiful as ever. sweet & sunny as the first days of spring. even her smile, that goddamn winning grin, has yet to lose its light. it shines upon her lips, golden & full as a small sun. no matter the hours spent in that small cell of hers, she looks unfazed. she whines & screams & sings, if only to fill the silence with words of her own, but it is evident in her posture that fear has yet to slip itself inbetween muscle & bone. perhaps if they had had an actual file on her, they would have known that her childhood was a similar torture, made of closed windows & muffled screams. if they had had a file, perhaps they would have known better than to keep her alive. the death penalty would have been a safer choice, yes, she knows it & she hopes juno does too.

"are ya really worried 'bout me or are ya just makin' small talk?" she wonders, eyes as calculating as they have always been. it is complicated to account for the girl's truth : it seems that everything she says is a time bomb, meant to explode in your pocket the second you have forgotten its existence. sometimes the truth of it occupies your mind for years. sometimes, it is the inaccuracy that keeps you awake. either way, it is what she wants : her words plastered all over your skin in gashes of red. even her presence here is torture : paperwork fallen into juno suarez's lap & ishtar firmly waiting for the police on the day of the appointment, handcuffs already in hand. she had orchestrated her apparent downfall & the fbi had done nothing but sing / dance their part. that no one apart from juno suarez had ever dared to ask why the girl went so willingly... well, that was part of her game too.

"experience, uh? is that what we're callin' it now?" interest has yet to spark in her eyes. in fact, it seems she is seconds away from taking her legs & leaving the room. while he might be interested in showing her gruesome pictures of decadent murders, the dead have never been a big interest for ishtar. it is a common misconception about her, one she has no interest in squashing because someone that prefers concepts to real observations is someone meant to be fooled. but reid should know better : has he not been watching ? "come on, doc. say what ya wanna say. we ain't got all time in the world and this whole nice cop thin' you got goin' on? makes me bored." a smile that is more teeth than anything else, only for her to support her chin with her knee. "what do i get for helpin', anyway?"

#ishtar atta isil.#criminal minds universe.#third person.#english writing.

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haee-elia · 8 months

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spence-tober: day 5 - street racer/mechanic

pairing: street racer/mechanic!spencer reid x fem!reader

summary: in which you find out a little secret about the mechanic you've been seeing

word count: 1929

warning: mention of illegal activities (street racing), mentions of alcohol, fluffy

spence-tober masterlist

To be honest, you don’t even know why you’re here, standing in the middle of the street next to your best friend, late into the evening.

“It’s okay, just relax.” Your best friend said.

No, you think to yourself, everything was in fact not okay. But before you could voice your thoughts, she found her current boyfriend of three days and ran off to him, leaving you standing awkwardly at the curb of the street.

For a random dead end street on a Tuesday night, the street was pretty busy. Not with traffic, with people.

Groups and cliques of people were standing around in the street with you, dressed in either tank tops and shorts or in full leather. You don’t know how the aren’t freezing their asses off compared to you who came in your nice jeans (no holes in them), a cute long sleeve turtleneck, and some heeled boots that come up to your calf, and are STILL freezing your ass off.

You cannot believe you let your friend talk you into coming here tonight and it was a severe lapse in judgement, but you were bored with no plans for the night and she easily shoved you out of the door. Especially when she picked the guilt card and told you that you hadn’t really hung out together since you’ve been seeing ‘that mechanic’ as she put it.

It was true, you suppose. It was only two weeks ago when you had your car towed into a random mechanic’s garage because two of your tires popped a flat and you only had one spare. You hadn’t expected to meet the cute mechanic wearing his work overalls covered in grease. His hair, which somehow avoided being as messy as his clothes, was brushed to the side in a way you found extremely hot.

Not only did you get your tires changed out that day, you had also gotten Spencer’s, the cute mechanic who worked on your car, number. From then on, you had gone out a few more times. To dinner, to get a cup of coffee before going to work in the morning, a walk in the park, and so on. Just yesterday in fact, you had gotten take out and brought it to the garage he worked at to spend lunch together.

You weren’t officially dating, no labels had been used yet, but you were really excited for any single time you could see him.

Which was part of the reason you weren’t really into whatever your friend got the both of you involved in tonight.

You had originally wanted to go out to dinner or invite Spencer to your apartment for dinner, but he had bashfully admitted at lunch yesterday that he had plans for tonight that he was already committed to. You understood, of course, but you were a little disappointed and are currently counting all the different things you could be doing other than this right now.

What can you say, you were an introvert at heart.

And now, not only were you dragged to this random ass street, your friend was also incredibly busy swapping saliva with her new boyfriend. In the back of your mind, you wondered if it was incredibly pathetic how your friend and her new guy were already official while you and Spencer were still to have yet to put a label on your relationship.

You sigh and condemn yourself to trying to enjoy the night your friend dragged you along with, walking in small strides over to your friend and her boyfriend. He was a nice guy, at least, you thought to yourself while introducing yourself to him. He was making your friend happy, which you liked, especially since she went through a nasty breakup recently.

“So, um,” You say, having finished introductions and small talk, “What’s exactly going on tonight?”

Despite the crowd in the street nearly all having a beer or some form of alcohol in hand, you couldn’t quite hear any conversations, especially one’s pertaining to why everyone was gathered in the street.

You looked towards the new couple, your friend under her boyfriend’s arm.

“There’s a race tonight, baby.” He says, a goofy grin on his face, “Should be a good matchup!”

Your eyebrowss furrow in confusion, you look over to your friend, “A race?”

She nods, “A streetrace. Everyone’s been talking about this showoff for the past week.”

“You brought me to a streetrace?” You scoff at her. “This is highly illegal,” You say, stunned.

She escapes her boyfriend’s arms and takes your hands in hers, swinging them playfully, “Come on, please,” She says, “Just trust me on this? Let’s hang out and if you still don’t wanna stick around by the time the race starts, you can leave. I promise.”

She takes one of her hands and draws a small ‘x’ over her heart, sealing the promise. You sigh and close your eyes, but nod your head and accept your fate for tonight.

“Okay, I’ll stay for a little bit,” You resign.

She squeals in delight and you try to relax your shoulders a little bit, settling into mingling with the small group your best friend and her boyfriend are communicating with. You say no to any offer of alcohol or otherwise, wishing to stay sober in case you want to leave (and in case the police, do in fact show up).

Despite the cool air and the dimly lit streets, you are having a decently good time conversing with your friend and her new guy. Soon enough, there’s some noisy whispers through the street and your friend’s boyfriend points through the throng of people further down the street.

“There’s the racers coming in now.”

Your gaze switches to where he points. Suddenly, bright headlights illuminates the streets and the noise of engines revving up fills the alleyway street. You think to yourself that its a wonder that no police have shown up to these races yet.

The crowd of people clear to the sides of the street and allow the cars to cruise through. One of the cars is exactly what you’d think a street racing car would look like. Its a fire engine red with an ombre flame on the sides of it. A souped up engine and large front shiny silver looking grill. Its loud and you cringe at the sight of it and the bald, white tank top wearing driver in the front seat. He has the demeanor of a moose.

The other car is a purple in color, but is dark enough that it could pass as a navy or eggplant color. There’s no artwork on the sides and has the aura of a vintage car. It holds some aspects of some vintage cars as well. It’s shiny, but more in cleanliness than look.

The headlights from both cars are way too bright for you to see the driver for the second car, but in your mind, anybody would look better than the beefed up driver of the first.

The cars come to a stop right where you are guessing the start of the race will take place, and the headlights finally dim as the drivers turn off their cars for now. The race has not yet begun and by the looks of the people crowding around the cars, they’ll talk to the audience and their fanbases before racing.

A familiar mop of styled boyband-ish, brown hair appears in your vision. The head of the second driver popping up from him exiting the driver’s side door is easily recognizable, even if you hadn’t known the person for very long.

“Spencer?” You call out, both in confusion and shock. You’re confident in your ability to spot him, even in the not very well lit street.

The call of his name makes him turn around, the only barrier between you and him is the car he just exited. His car. His race car.

Spencer, you know it’s him now with his face in clear vision, calls out your name as well and then hurriedly makes his way around the front of his car and towards you.

You still stand with wide eyes and a slightly open mouth in surprise, “Y-you-”

He nods shyly, running a hand through his messy yet perfectly kept hair, “I race, yeah.”

“I-I had no idea,” You say, not sure what else to in your stunned state.

Spencer shook his head, “I didn’t tell you. You couldn’t have known.”

“I race sometimes at nights after working at the garage. I was going to tell you, I promise. It’s just-” He trys to explain, but trails off at the end of his sentence.

“Illegal?” You try to finish for him. Your tone isn’t accusing, more in curiosity.

And in all your time spent with him, dinners, movies, coffee dates, and more, you would have never guessed that the shy and cute man who worked on your car and gave you his own employee discount on your two replaced tires would be spending his free time fixing up a car for street racing.

Spencer looks down at his feet, bashful, “Yeah, that.” He responds. “But also I just didn’t want to scare you away. I really like you.” He admits. “I didn’t know how you would react and I was scared you wouldn’t want to go out anymore.”

Before you can say anything, the bald faced moose energy man calls out from being surrounded by his fans, “Hey, Crash! Ready to do this or not?”

Spencer hollers back that he just needs a few minutes and then turns his attention back to you. He still has the aura of how you met him in the garage, but there’s also some confidence in his stride and how he carries himself on this street.

“Crash?” You question.

“My, uh, race name.” He clarifies.

You smile slightly, “Like your childhood nickname your mother gave you, right?” You ask, although you’re rather confident. “Because you would always run into things when you were a kid.”

Spencer confirms, nodding. It was one of the first fun little facts you learned about Spencer during your first date. Some would find it weird, but you found it endearing that he brought up how much his mother meant to him. You smile at the fact he uses the old childhood nickname bestowed upon him by his mother for his secret nightlife hobby.

“Listen,” Spencer says a little nervous, “I understand if you’re upset that I didn’t tell you this and if you don’t want to be my girlfriend anymor-”

“I’m your girlfriend?” You interrupt him, your cheeks taking on a pinky blush tint.

Spencer clears his throat, “I, uh, I hope so.” He says in a small tone. “Like I said, I, um, really like you-”

The other racer calls for him again, this time louder and more challenging. Spencer groans at your conversation being interrupted once again.

“You need to go,” You speak first before Spencer. You nod your head off in the direction of the cars and the muscle tank man.

Spencer hesitates and goes to say something, but you put your hand on his arm stopping him. You feel as though you can hear his heart beating and his blood pumping in suspence with your words. Your own heart and blood aren’t far off from his.

“We can talk more about this later. Promise.” You assure him.

You press a small peck to his cheek and a small grin grows on your lips.

“Besides, you’ve got a race to win.”

a/n: would spencer actually participate in illegal activity? probably not. also ignore that reader aka you, are also participating in illegal activity because apparently spectating a street race on an empty public street is also illegal and can get you fined.

#criminal minds #criminalminds #spencer reid #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds fic #dr. spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #dr. spencer reid #spencer reid au #spencer reid alternate universe

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