#derek is a lucky man

[nereidprinc3ss]

strange perfections

in which spencer reid and fem!reader meet by accident at a coffee shop. and then they keep meeting there. they've really got to stop meeting like this. (no, seriously. hotch is pissed.) / do you believe me now? bonus chapter!

series masterlist

fluff! warnings/tags: meet cute:) some dark humor, romantically inexperienced reader, spencer reid graduated from caltech, mit, and the derek morgan school of rizz a/n: this can absolutely be read as a standalone BUT it was written as a prologue for my series do you believe me now? to explain how spencer and r met! completely optional, if you're only here for the smut no worries! reading this bonus chapter might make the next chapter better though as it contains discussions of how they met:) anyway, I LOVE YOU!! let me know if you like this silly little random thing! kisses

The café door opens again. A blustery wind raises goosebumps on your arms and makes your bones ache again. You look up at the latest intruder—a hobbling elderly man in a newsboy cap and a knit red scarf. 

Stupid scarf, you think. 

Stupid door. 

Stupid wind. 

Your mug is empty, and the table you’re sitting at is sort of sticky and rickety, and there are so many papers in front of you that you wonder why the hell you thought it’d be a good idea to print the PDF out and annotate it that way instead of just doing it on your laptop like a normal person in the 21st century. Nothing is going right today. It’s the third café you’ve tried in the past few weeks as you attempt to find some place that feels homey, lucky, but this one just feels… inconvenient. 

You look at the stack of papers and sigh. 

Stupid Lord Byron. 

Stupid cafe. 

Usually, cafés are relatively quiet and peaceful—a refuge for the overworked to bask in the luxury of quiet jazz and the smell of dark roast as they continue to overwork themselves. This particular establishment, however, today hosts a group of teenagers—presumably playing hooky—who have commandeered a big booth in the back and keep walking right past your table because apparently they couldn’t have just ordered their drinks at once and they all have to do it separately and loudly. 

One of them has an incredibly irritating, gratingly pubescent laugh, and they think everything is hilarious. This whole situation is unbearable. 

Just as you’re gearing up to go, of course the fucking door opens again. This time, it’s accompanied by a particularly strong gust. 

Strong enough that Lord Byron doesn’t stand a chance. 

Your printed copy of his works blows off the table, at first page by painstakingly annotated page and then before you can even process it, all at once. 

Yeah. This is definitely not your lucky café. 

As you curse and go to stand up, you run into one of those dumb kids. His huge ceramic mug goes flying, careening against the edge of your table and completely splattering you and all your stuff in 16 liquid ounces of scalding espresso and milk. 

It’s silent for a second, save for a few drips from the puddle on your table to the floor, before the kid is apologizing profusely and turning red as a tomato. You can’t even respond—you look down at your ruined favorite sweater, and then around at the pages of Byron littered with color-coded sticky notes, overflowing with angry and purposeful red ink that you spent so much time on, scattered all over the floor. 

Eventually the boy catches on that you’re not going to forgive him and he skitters away, back to his friends, who whisper and giggle profusely. Only a few of them get up to start gathering the fallen pages with you. Several other patrons end up helping as well, so the sheets of paper are gathered and returned into your sticky hands fairly quickly. You thank each person without looking up as they hand you their respective stack. All you want is to get out of here. 

“Here—I’m really sorry about this,” someone says—a tenor-ish male voice, distinctly sympathetic as he holds out a rather larger stack of papers than anyone else had bothered to pick up. 

“I’ll live,” you sigh, straightening up. “But thank… you.”

The man standing in front of you is the kind of man who makes you want to untuck your hair from its usual spot behind your ears, and to stand up straighter, and to try and not stare even though you want his attention. He’s gloriously beautiful in a way that repels and attracts you. He’s the type of man who wouldn’t have given you the time of day in high school and probably wouldn’t now. Instantly you feel both insecure and reduced to a former version of you who would simper and fawn over boys who wanted nothing to do with her. You feel like going to the other side of the café and sitting in the best light and staring out the window poetically and hoping he’s looking at you. 

“On the one hand, I feel bad for being the person who opened the door and let the wind in. On the other… I feel compelled to say at least they’re not covered in coffee like the rest of your table is?”

You laugh vacantly, a second too late, positively coveting the awkward smile on his angular face. Then you make eye contact, and his eyes are so the opposite of angular—they’re huge and inviting and the warmest golden-brown you’ve ever seen, and they’re looking right back at you—and you have to look down. Fuck. You hate when you do that. 

Think of something normal to say!

“Yeah, true. Now I just have to reorder 264 pages. That… that don’t have page numbers.”

You shuffle through the papers. They are hopelessly scrambled. Your heart sinks just a bit.

“Um… I might actually be able to help with that, if you want?”

You frown, glancing up. What kind of sex trafficking ploy is this?

“That’s okay. Might be easier with just one person.”

He laughs—it’s similarly awkward, similarly endearing. 

“Do you mind letting me just… try? It’ll only take a minute.”

Only take a minute? Is this beautiful man deranged? Why are the hot ones always crazy?

But, perhaps because you’re a pushover who can’t stand up to people, much less beautiful people, much less beautiful men who are paying you undue attention, you find yourself giving in. You hold the stack out. 

“Sure. Give it your best shot. I’ll be impressed if you can even figure out what page one is.”

He’s already flipping through the papers with a drawn brow, walking away with them, and barely looking over his shoulder as he mutters, “I have Byron memorized. It shouldn’t be too difficult.”

You follow him, because hello, he has all your annotations. He’s definitely insane, you think, as he sits down at a table and starts rapidly sorting the sheets into separate piles. 

All you can do is stand awkwardly behind him as he stacks papers seemingly at random, barely glancing at them before deciding where they go. 

Maybe a minute, maybe a few go by, each of which have you progressively more flabbergasted, before he’s tapping the edges of a stack of paper on the table and standing, handing them to you with his lips pressed into a thin pleasant line. There’s almost a glow about him—like he couldn’t be more in his comfort zone. 

“There you go. Should be in order now.” You sport a frown bordering on a grimace as you take the stack and flip through it a bit. Sure enough, it seems that everything is in order. You keep looking between the man in front of you and the papers, incredulous as you wait for something to be in the wrong spot. 

“How did you do that?” 

His cheeks turn slightly pink. 

“I know Byron really well. I know how each passage ends and begins so I put them together like puzzle pieces.”

“How did you read that fast?”

“Uh. I’m a speed-reader?”

You scoff, taking another look through the stack. 

“I think that may be underselling it.” A thought occurs to you as you’re grazing over one of your longer annotations—full of expletives and strong opinions. “Oh, god. You didn’t… you didn’t read my notes?”

The man’s eyebrows raise as if he was waiting for you to mention that and he smiles like he doesn’t quite know how to break it to you gently. 

“Maybe a few,” he eventually decides, laughing under his breath. “I appreciated the commentary on his relationship with Augusta. It was… colorful.”

Heat rises in your cheeks as you mumble. 

“Yeah, I had a hard time appreciating the romantic poems. They’re less cute when there’s like a fifty percent chance he’s writing about his sister.”

“Half sister,” he corrects. You give him a look. 

“Does that make it better?”

“… no,” he realizes. “Not even a little bit.”

You laugh, relieved that his face looks as warm as yours feels. 

“Well… thank you, for the help,” you say after a silent second. 

“Of course. Sorry, again. I, um—I hope your day gets better?”

“Yeah, well. I feel like statistically it has to, right? It’s kind of a low bar.”

He smiles, a perfect, perfect smile, and gives you a little wave as he leaves. Without coffee. Checking the clock on the wall, you realize it’s approaching one in the afternoon. If he’d been here on his lunch break, he sacrificed it to organize your stupid Byron texts. You smile to yourself. 

He was totally in love with me. 

And he can’t prove me wrong because I’ll probably never see him again. 

All things considered—this coffee shop does seem pretty lucky. Maybe you’ll stick with it for a while. 

The next time you see the mysterious sexy speed reader is four days later—though you’ve been here every day since. He catches your eye right as he walks in, and his brows jump in pleasant recognition. You smile. He smiles back, before going up to the counter and ordering a coffee with a ludicrous amount of sugar in it. 

I should take note for when I make him his coffee in the mornings, you think to yourself, and then you snort at your own delusions, shaking your head at your book. Obviously you’re not that divorced from reality, but you’ll entertain the fantasy forever until one of you stops showing up to this café. 

What you’re absolutely not expecting is for him to walk up to your table with his to-go cup. 

“Hi,” he says. 

“Hi!”

Jesus. Tone it down, girl scout. 

He gestures to your stack of papers: now secured in a three ring binder. The cup says Spencer. 

Spencer. Spencer. 

It feels important. 

“I see you’ve upgraded.”

“Yes! Yes, I did,” you laugh self-consciously, still struggling to meet his eyes. “Thank you for the help the other day. I would still be sorting through all of this if it weren’t for that, so… yeah. Thanks.”

“Of course! I’m glad I could be of use.”

“Spence!” Someone calls from the cafe door. You both look up to see a stunning blonde beckoning him away. 

Ah. Naturally. The girlfriend who is one trillion times prettier than you. 

Spence. 

Reality sets in. 

“Coming!” He replies, with all the eager compliance of a child, before turning back to you. “Um… well… I’ll see you?”

It’s an awkward way to say goodbye to a stranger, but you suddenly don’t care enough to dwell. Instead you nod once, less enthusiastic now that you know he has a 10 waiting for him on the sidewalk. 

“I am a creature of habit.”

Another wave as he walks away. 

The two disappear from the doorway, but the perpetual breeze seems to carry a snatched bit of conversation your way. 

“Who was that?” 

“Uh… I don’t actually know.”

Yeah. Reality definitely sets in. 

Over the next few days, you break your café streak. Life is busy. There’s not always time to artfully ponder Romantic poetry and drink a six dollar coffee while waiting around for certain people to show up. 

Okay, so… maybe it has more to do with him than you’re letting on. But you’re not going to do that thing you do again, where you become limerently obsessed with a man you don’t know and who is way out of your league just because you can’t form an actual attachment to anyone to save your life. Besides, you remind yourself; we probably wouldn’t be compatible anyway. He’s probably a huge loser. Or secretly a douche. Or chews with his mouth open. Obviously nobody that attractive can also have a good personality. 

Not to mention he has a girlfriend. That should put you off, too.

But you hadn’t been lying when you’d proclaimed to be a creature of habit—you return to the café once you feel sufficiently detached from this Spencer character. 

He’s there. Of course he’s there. Why had you been expecting for him to not be there? It’s not like he was a figment of your imagination. 

This time he’s accompanied by a different blonde woman—a bespectacled blonde with a big floral headband and a patterned dress and a red cardigan and tights and heels that look self-injurious. She’s quite eye-catching; you want to keep looking at her, but you seem to draw her attention, too. Her big eyes widen minutely and briefly you wonder if you’re supposed to know her, but certainly you’d remember meeting a person like that. She doesn’t seem easily forgettable. Both of you look to Spencer at the same time, who’s looking between you with an almost panicked expression. 

“Oh! Th—” the woman whispers, cutting herself off when she realizes how loud she’s being in the otherwise silent establishment. “Ah! Okay, right. Never mind.”

 Spencer sighs. You want to laugh, but you’re baffled by the whole thing. So you go back to reading. 

Ten minutes later, they draw your attention once more. 

“Go, go ahead! It’s more problematic for you to be late than me. I’ll be like, thirty seconds tops.”

You don’t look up as Spencer leaves the café—but are you supposed to gather that these two eccentric individuals are coworkers? And what of the first blonde woman, who you’d presumed to be his girlfriend? Where is she?

While you’re wondering all of this, the new blonde teeters her way over to your table. 

“Hi!” She says pleasantly, waving a purple-tipped hand and wearing the biggest grin. 

“Uh… hi?”

“I’m Penelope. You’ve met my friend Spencer. He just left.”

“Oh—sort of,” you smile weakly, closing your book. “Not formally. I didn’t know his name.”

That’s a lie, but maybe feigning non-chalance will make it real. 

“Well, I just wanted to come over and say I love your bag. And your jewelry and your coat. I love your whole look. I bet you’re a really cool person.”

“Um—thank you!” You perk up, smiling genuinely now. The compliment warms you—you didn’t think your look was all that interesting today. “You too. I love your outfit.”

“Great! You’re—you’re great. This is good information. Um… just out of, like, sheer curiosity, could I get your name, age, and occupation? Oh—and your zodiac sign?”

What kind of convoluted sex trafficking ploy—

“Garcia!”

Spencer is at the doorway again, looking adorably miffed. 

Adorable? Get a grip. 

“Wh—I’m just making a new friend! Is friendship illegal, now?”

“This is the kind of friend-making that gets you a restraining order,” he urges. 

You look up at Penelope Garcia, enamored by their whole dynamic. They clearly care for each other, despite the squabbling. What kind of job do they have where they talk to each other like this?

“It’s fine,” you smile, introducing yourself to her.

“That is such a good name!” She says, and you’re getting the sense she’s kind of always this enthusiastic. “So now we know each other’s names—we should probably definitely be friends, right?”

“Yeah! Um, definitely!”

“Yes? Oh my god! I love this! Okay, um—we work at Quantico, so, we’re like, 10 minutes away—but this is better than the coffee shop that’s closest to the building, so we come here all the time. Usually it’s just us and five grouchy old men, which makes this is really exciting.”

“Quantico… that’s the FBI academy, right?”

“Other stuff, too,” she nods, still smiley. 

Oh! Cool. So they’re FBI agents. 

So that’s cool. 

You’re cool with that. 

Her phone starts ringing—she locks eyes with Spencer. 

“Hotch?”

“Ooh, we are in trouble,” Penelope sing-songs, leaning down to write her number on your notebook without asking. Not that you mind, of course. She adds a little heart and a smiley face next to her name before capping your pen and toddling away. “Bye, new friend!” She calls over her shoulder, waving goodbye with just her fingers. 

“Bye,” you manage, though it’s probably too quiet. 

Spencer flattens his mouth into an approximation of a smile and waves again. 

You accidentally find yourself mirroring his goodbye, facial expression and all. Fuck. You hope he doesn’t notice. You hope he doesn’t read into it. 

Nah. Boys are dumb. 

You text Penelope later that afternoon—a simple greeting so that she can save your number—and then you forget about it. 

It’s not until five days go by without sign of any of them—the two blondes, Spencer, this mysterious and foreboding Hotch figure—that you start to seriously question your sanity. Did they drop off the face of the planet, or what?

But of course, just as you’re sitting at your usual table, Spencer walks in. Alone. 

He sees you immediately, but instead of the wave you’d come to expect, he immediately flushes, looks down at his shoes and hurries into the small lunch-rush line. 

Weird.

You corner him at the coffee bar, where he’s adding more sugar to his coffee. How are his teeth so nice if he does this to himself every single day?

“Hey,” you say, affecting casual confidence as you bus your empty mug. “… Spencer, right?”

It’s comical how you’re pretending you haven’t turned that name over and looked at it from every angle hundreds of times since the first time you heard it. 

He nods, only glancing up at you as he stirs. To your surprise, he knows your name, too. When you give him an odd look, he smiles almost apologetically, finally looking at your face for longer than half a second. 

“I heard you introducing yourself to Penelope. Sorry if that’s…”

“No, no! Is she around, today? I texted her last week, but she never responded...”

“Today is operating system update day, so I don’t even really have a way of knowing if she’s alive in her office.” It’s funny to him, but you just smile, baffled. He notices your silence and catches on, scrambling to explain himself. “She’s our tech analyst. There are 243 computers in our building and she has to update them all remotely, which requires getting every agent to agree to not touch their computer at the same time for an hour or so.”

“Oh… does the FBI not have, like… an IT guy, or something?”

He laughs again—the way his eyes crinkle when he does it makes you a little breathless. 

“You should say that to her. I think you would become her favorite person.”

It’s hard not to smile when he’s smiling because of you—however indirectly that may be. Quickly you realize you’ve both been standing in front of the coffee bar for too long. 

“Alright, well… tell her good luck, for me?”

“I would, but I’ve been kicked out for an hour while she does the updates.”

Your brow furrows and you laugh. 

“From the whole building? You just can’t keep your hands off your computer for an hour?”

“Not if I want to do my job, no. And I am kind of obsessive about my job. I’ve been the reason she had to start the whole process over again before and I’d rather not be that person again.”

You say it before you can think too hard. 

“Well, if you have an hour to kill… there’s an open seat at my table? No pressure, obviously.”

And that was the first of thousands of hours you would come to spend with Spencer Reid. 

After that, it sort of becomes a regular thing. He comes almost every day—except for occasional week or so long stretches, which you have discovered are a part of his absolutely fucking insane job—and sits with you, sometimes with Penelope, once with the other blonde, JJ, who you’ve since deduced is not his girlfriend, most often alone. Usually he can’t spare more than ten minutes, but he begins pushing it, little by little, until thirty minutes go by and you think surely his boss (the great and all-powerful Hotchner) must be beginning to notice. 

One day, during your usual lunchtime rendezvous, his phone rings. He talks right on through it, like it’s not happening.

It ceases. And then it starts again. 

Your head drops to your shoulder, something like pity or regret softening your features. He catches your eye and melts slightly, mid-sentence—like he knows you’re about to tell him to be responsible. 

“Do you think you should…”

His hands drop from where they’d been enthusiastically positioned mid-air. 

“They’ll be fine if I’m late from lunch one time. I’m usually more punctual than any of them.”

You roll your lip between your teeth—it’s not that you want to tell him to go; in fact, those delusions you’ve been harboring about your future life together are only getting worse with each inexplicable minute he entertains your company. 

But his job is important. 

“What if you have a case?”

“Then I would have gotten more calls from more people by now.”

Your head tips back as you laugh lightly at his unwavering insistence.   

“I’m flattered that you so enjoy my company that much. But I can’t with good conscience keep taking up your work hours like this.”

As the laughter fades, he just… watches you, lips slightly parted, eyes intense but not entirely present. 

“You’re probably right,” he finally breathes. “Maybe… you should start taking up my other hours, instead?”

Spencer Reid, you unexpected charmer. 

You balk.

“Like… we would hang out? At a different time of day? Not here?”

“Those are the basic premises, yes,” he chuckles, nodding affably. “I’ve never actually seen you anywhere else. For all I know you could be a ghost eternally tethered to this building.”

“Where would this hanging out take place?”

Fuck, you’re totally being weird. His brow knits. 

“I don’t know. Where else do people hang out?”

He’s not genuinely asking you, he’s gently turning you in the right direction. You charge forward blindly. 

“Restaurants.”

There’s that pretty smile of his again, the one that makes all the thoughts drain from your head like cold bathwater. Though, there’s a sort of mischievous edge to it now that you haven't seen before.

“That’s certainly an option. If I asked you to hang out with me at a restaurant... would you say yes?”

You look down. God, your face feels warm. 

“Would you be asking me out on a date? In this hypothetical scenario that we’ve constructed, I mean.”

Spencer seems to think about it for a moment, which fills you with unexpected panic. When you look back up anxiously, he has the same smile on his face, but his eyes are a little softer now. 

“I would.” 

More panic sets in—just a bit. But you don’t let what is undoubtedly a tidal wave of anxiety break through the emotional guard-dam. Keep it together. This is a good thing. This is what you wanted. 

Unfortunately, you are perhaps more transparent than you’d realized. Spencer begins to look slightly worried, leaning forward in his chair. 

“You don’t have to say yes. I know we don’t know each other very well, I just—”

“No!” You find yourself assuring him, though you curse yourself because you kind of want to know what he was going to say. “I would say yes. I’ve just, um—god,” you laugh gustily, self-consciously. “Sorry I’m being so weird. I’m out of my depth. Nobody’s asked me on a date before. I don’t really know the etiquette.”

Spencer chuckles. 

“You’re doing great. Don’t worry about it.”

Not, what?

Not, you’ve never been on a date before?

Not, that’s crazy, or that’s weird, or how have you gone your whole life without being asked out?

With the implication being, you’re odd. Different. Maybe not in a good way. 

He says none of that. 

“But I should probably actually ask you, huh?” His cheeks turn pink as his laughter is redirected inwards. 

“Sounds like a good first step.”

Spencer is still smiling as he says your name and it sounds so good from his mouth. It makes you sound so real. 

“Will you go on a date with me?”

Butterflies in your stomach doesn't begin to brush what you're experiencing—your entire abdominal cavity is like a Monarch sanctuary.

“I’d love to.”

He seems genuinely relieved as he beams, slumping back in his chair. 

“Oh, thank god. I was so nervous you’d say no. I never do that. Thank you for not saying no. Not that you couldn’t have said no—it would have been completely fine and obviously within your rights to—”

His phone rings again. Both of you are relieved that he was interrupted—but admittedly you thought his rambling was super cute. 

“I should—”

“You definitely need to go.”

“Yeah,” he agrees with a still-breathless smile. “Um—what’s your number?”

You look around fruitlessly for pen and paper. 

“I don’t—”

“Just tell me. I’ll remember.”

He’s so weird. 

A breeze hits your skin as he opens the door. You’re already writing your wedding vows in the back of your mind as you watch him go. 

-

part four

[benevolentbones]

kids table | spencer reid x gideon!reader part 2

part 1

warnings: none really

word count: 1.4k

summary: spencer finally calls you and asks you out

a/n: the awaited part 2 is finally out, i hope you all enjoy this as much as part 1! if youd like me to write a part 3 let me know!

spencer drummed his fingers against his desk, the rhythmic thudding soothing his nerves.

in his free hand he held his phone, next to it the piece of paper you gave him at dinner from a few nights ago. not that he needed it, he had memorised everything you had scribbled down.

he had punched in all the digits of your phone number, his thumb hovered over the call button.

“what are you waiting for, pretty boy?” morgan questioned, the muscular man rested his hip against spencer’s desk, as he peered over to see what the genius was up to.

“i- i don’t know. i don’t know why i’m so nervous, she said she wants to go out with me but-“

“but you’re scared she will change her mind?” morgan reached over, grabbing the piece of paper from reid’s desk and analysing it.

spencer let out a frustrated groan, dropping his phone against the table and resting his forehead against the cool wood.

“reid, i don’t think she would change her mind man. i was watching you all night, she seemed to really dig you.”

without moving his head, spencer fixed his stare onto derek, side eyeing him.

“you think so?” he mumbled out, barely audible as he face was practically smushed against the desk.

“yeah i know so. so stop being so scared and just call her, invite her out.”

morgan gave the dark haired man a pat on the back before leaving him to do the thing he was dreading.

spencer picked his phone back up, your number still on screen just waiting to be rung. he exhaled, pressing his soft lips into a hard line before his thumb brushed over the call button.

it began to ring and spencer could swear his stomach dropped.

“hello?” your voice cracked through his phone, the familiarity of it relieving some of the pent up anxiety he was feeling.

“hey- y/n? it’s reid- spencer reid.” he mumbled out.

“oh! hey spence” your voice seemed more chipper after you realised who was calling you. “i’ve been waiting for your call.”

spencer was so lucky that you could not see the blush that spread across his face, he lifted a finger up, pulling at the collar of his shirt.

was it warm in here? damn.

“mm i was just calling- i wanted to know if you’d like to see a movie with me?”

spencer had interrogated hotch the other day while working a case, quizzing the older man about the things you enjoyed and what you didn’t like. he wouldn’t have dared go to gideon, so hotch was the next best option.

and through doing so he found out your love for going to the cinema.

“i love the movies!” you exclaimed, maybe a little too enthusiastic but spencer didn’t mind, a smile spread across his face.

you cleared your throat before continuing, “i would love to see a movie with you, spencer.”

“great-how does tomorrow night sound?” spencer chewed at his bottom lip, awaiting your answer.

“mhm that sounds good, how about i meet you outside your office at 7?”

“i-i’ll see you then.”

“see you, bye spencer.” and with that you hung up.

spencer placed the phone down on his desk, swivelling around in his chair. from across the room, derek was stood in conversation with penelope. spencer caught his glance, giving the older male a thumbs up.

“that’s my boy!” morgan yelled, causing a few sets of eyes to glance in his direction from his sudden outburst.

~

you stood outside the bureau, leaning against the cool brick wall. it was 6:58pm, and the sun was just setting.

usually you weren’t too concerned about what you’d wear out, or on a date even. but tonight you were a little nervous, and it took you almost two hours just to pick something.

you had decided on a black mid length pencil skirt, paired with an off the shoulder sweetheart blouse. you had only realised once you had left the house, that it wasn’t exactly the most weather permitting outfit, as it was late autumn, but you’d be indoors soon anyway so it wasn’t too bad.

you stared at the doors to the building, subconsciously playing with the strap on your purse.

seven o’ clock rolled around, and exactly as planned spencer reid strolled out of the building.

the dark eyed male had his signature pair of glasses resting upon his nose, his hair was combed back behind his ears, a few loose strands hung just over his eyes. he immediately spotted you, his stern facial expression softening as he shuffled over to you.

your breath hitched as you took in his appearance. his outfit didn’t much differ from what he wore at the birthday dinner, but seemed more casual. the shirt he wore wasn’t fully buttoned, his tie was hung looser but he still adorned a black suit jacket.

“hi” you mumbled out, feeling a blush creep onto your cheeks. luckily for you, the dimming light managed he conceal it, mostly.

“i hope you haven’t been waiting here long, ready to get going?” he quizzed, coming to a stop before you.

you looked up to the man who towered over you, and nodded. he lead you to his car and you both got in, spencer starting the ignition and driving off to the theatre.

the drive wasn’t too long, you were making small talk with him as he drove, asking about his day and such.

“they’re playing a screening of attack of the clones, i wasn’t sure if you liked star wars but i got us tickets.” he mumbled out, fingers drumming against the steering wheel as he pulled up to the theatre.

your hands rested on your lap as you stared out of the window, glancing over to spencer.

“that sounds great, i like star wars.” you smiled, making his stomach do metaphorical backflips.

you and spencer got out of the car, walking side by side into the cinema.

“i’m going to- to get the tickets. would you like to pick out a snack?”

you nodded walking towards the concession stand. you spent a few minutes scanning the items, a puzzled expression reaching your features. spencer returned to you, the tickets in his hand.

“made a choice?”

“would you share gummy bears with me?”

“would that make you happy?” he mused, watching as a small smile crept onto your face.

you nodded, chewing your bottom lip.

he let out a small chuckle. “then yes, i will.”

spencer walked over to the cashier, and ordered a medium popcorn, two sodas and of course not forgetting the packet of gummy bears.

the two of you walked into the screening room, spencer glanced down at the tickets as you walked up the steps. he lead you to two seats in the back row.

once you sat down to his left, he passed you your soda which you accepted gratefully.

there was only two other couples sat when the commercials starting rolling.

“have you seen this before?” you whispered to spencer.

“mhm, it’s one of my favourites.” he whispered back, leaning closer to you. you tensed up when you felt his hot breath against your neck.

the opening credits started to play and you both settled into your seats, spencer and you both laying your arms on your respective arm rests, he held onto the bucket of popcorn in his free hand.

throughout the film spencer’s gaze would fall on you, as you stared straight ahead at the screen the flickering colours from the film illuminating your, in his opinion, perfect features.

he grew nervous, almost dropping the popcorn, you turned to him and let out a low giggle. “here let me take it.” you mumbled in a hushed tone, reaching for the popcorn which he passed off onto you, your fingers brushing his for a moment.

that small touch was enough to drive him crazy. inhaling sharply, spencer directed his vision onto the screen. he flexed his left hand, before cautiously placing it on top of yours.

you felt your face heat up, you took the opportunity to quickly interlock your fingers with his, giving them a small squeeze.

he turned to you, his face met with your wide eyes, softly staring back at him, a longing expression washing over your features.

spencer felt his heartbeat quicken, he could barely hold it together any longer. he swiftly pressed his lips against yours, kissing you feverishly. you melted into the kiss, letting go of his hand and trailing yours up to cup his cheek.

he deepened the kiss, his palm traveling to your hip as best as he could in the seated position.

when you both pulled away, you gasped for air, your chest rising and falling rapidly. his hair was now slightly disheveled, his glasses steamed up and his lips a few shades pinker.

spencer’s cheeks were stained a crimson, his mind as foggy as his glasses. you pressed another small peck to his lips before resting your head on his shoulder.

“we’re about to miss the best bit.” you mused, your face warm.

“are you sure about that?”

[certifiedlovergirlsstuff]

little baby lime | s.r. x pregnant!fem reader

“does reid have a girlfriend?” emily asked derek and jj. they both shared a quizzical look with pouted lips, taken aback by the random question.

“not since that one time thing with that lila actress,” derek mumbled. now it was emily’s turn to be thrown off by this new information, “an actress?”

“an old case,” jj informed her. “spencer doesn’t seem like the dating type, mostly. never mentioned anything that might point to it, always doing his usual routine on his days off.” the blonde shrugged off her sentence.

“why do you ask?” derek turned back to emily who jerked her chin while looking behind the two, “cause he’s hugging a girl who might also be pregnant.” an impressed smirk to her mauve lips.

derek and jj wiped their heads fast around you could hear a crack from their necks. true to emily’s words, doctor spencer reid, well know to be a germaphobe, was wrapped in a tight embrace with a shorter woman. his back was to the trio but they could see that his arms were over her shoulders and hers were snug around his torso, also noting that spencer was giving both bodies a gentle sway.

“well that’s a sight,” derek teased. then jj followed with, “why might you think she’s pregnant? we can’t see with tall boy swallowing her.”

emily tapped the side of her nose, “saw her enter just before i asked the hundred dollar question and her tank was a bit snug on her stomach and she even gave it a rub.” eyes moving to the mystery duo then back, “then when spencer went to her he, one kissed her forehead then two also touched her stomach.”

three sets of eyes honed in back to spencer and his mystery guest. you leaned apart, head leaving spencer’s chest but arms wrapped to his back. you smiled brightly at spencer’s rosie face, “you’ve gotten prettier in only a week. not fair.” pouting exaggerated as you rubbed your palms along spencer’s spine.

he smiled nervously at the compliment. “that’s statistically not true. only with time and sometimes diet does your skin start to shift and change. like your body is doing now while going through pregnancy.” a quick peck upon your oily forehead, you sweat too much and sucks that summer is rolling in.

“this little lime is slowly stretching some of my clothes out. but i’m gonna be a sexy mama, like rachel green from friends. so i expect you to defend me against anyone.” teasing spencer since you already know he’ll defend you even over an argument about clothing.

before spencer could reply there was a loud, exaggerated cough from behind. stepping out of spencer’s hold you waffled your hands together and leaned your head against his bicep. a trio of agents you haven’t met before smiled questioning spencer’s way.

“pretty boy, you didn’t tell us you had a gorgeous girl waiting for you.” a tall dark skin man teased like an older brother. he looked at you and smiled his white teeth, “derek morgan, part of the bau.”

“oh, the playboy of the unit. i’ve heard a thing or two about you.” cocking a brow while derek showed surprise but covered it with a laugh, “glad to know i always leave an impression on pretty boy.”

“and thank you for the new nickname, i will be stealing it.” causing the two women to chuckle. a petite blonde woman stuck a hand out and you automatically took it, “i’m jennifer jareau, but you can call me jj. i’m the liaison for the team, deal with media and dictate our cases.”

“and a beaut. glad i snatch up spence before you had the chance.” spencer ducked his chin to his chest while jj just raised her brows, “think it’s for the best you took him off the market first.”

“lucky for me.” pointing a manicured finger to the left of jj, “now you, sexy lady must be emily prentiss since i already know wonderful penelope garcia. if i hadn’t know spencer earlier you would’ve been on my mind twenty-four seven.” a playful wink thrown her way, she didn’t protest to your suggestive words.

“maybe we can get together and see what i’m missing out on. but also, how long have you known reid? we didn’t know you existed.” a huffed laugh.

“use to live in vegas as a kid. thirteen my freshman year to have the local boy genius, twelve year old senior tutor me in algebra. with his help i didn’t need summer school. and i didn’t see him for a while until a few years ago when he’d make visits back into town.” cartoon hearts filtered through your eyes as you recounted your love story. “been dating two and a half years and then this dolt,” a light smack to spencer’s chest, “forgot to practice safe sex and here we are.”

all three of their faces showed complete shock at your last sentence and you can understand why. “don’t worry, spencer takes very good care of me. day and night if you know what i mean.” wiggling your brows suggestively.

spencer sighed, “i think they do, sweetheart. and i wish i could forget this whole conversation.” displeased at where this headed, but still stared towards you like you were the stars in the sky. “now if you’ll excuse us, garcia would like to see her favorite person.”

“second favorite,” derek cheekily pipped in. you waved him off as spencer walked the both of you away and further in the offices. to garcia’s dungeon or lair, whatever she’s feeling that day.

with a polite nock to her closed door and a muffled, “enter traveler,” you rushed inside for her bear hug. “penny!”

“oh my gosh! how are you sexy mama?” penelope rocked you side to side, cheek pressed into her neck. you giggled at the nickname, “is bean pole taking care of you?”

“bean pole?” spencer’s voice was mumbled but an unladylike snort escaping your nose. “i do have a thing for tall, lanky boys.”

“i don’t like this conversation either.”

[ddejavvu]

Wait Omg the thought of bau!reader and Aaron being secretly married but reader forgetting to take their ring off?? (Opposite to Spencer’s LOL). Everyone instantly zeroes in on it like ?????

You're not sure why you're on the receiving end of Prentiss's cheshire cat grin, but she's somewhat of an office prankster, so you assume that when you open the top drawer of your desk, a rubber band will fly out and whack you in the forehead. When no such thing happens, and JJ greets you with her own wide-eyed smile, you know something's wrong.

You retrieve the handheld mirror that you keep stashed away in your purse, trying to appear nonchalant as you glance over your face for any possible makeup smears. There's no smudges of eyeliner down your cheeks, mascara isn't dotted on your eyelid, and your lipstick is perfectly lined around your mouth; nothing is wrong.

You reach up to flick a wayward strand of hair away from your eyes, nothing big enough to attract the stares you're getting, but undesirable nonetheless. When you do you catch the glint of your wedding ring in the fluorescent lights of the bullpen, and your stomach drops.

That's not supposed to be there.

You snap the mirror closed and slide the ring off of your hand but it's too late, and both girls are snickering at your piss-poor attempt at concealment.

"Sooo," JJ hums, leaning over her desk with her chin propped on her hand, "When were you gonna tell us about that?"

"It's just a ring," You scoff, shoving it into the depths of your purse. You'll regret that later, when you're digging through napkins and lotion to find it, but for now evasion is key.

"Please," Emily scoffs, "That rock looks like it could pay my rent five times over. Are you seriously married?"

"No!" You gush, and you're sure they regret phrasing it as a question, because it gave you the opportunity to lie in answer, "No, I am not married, it's just a regular ring."

"Yeah, that's why you hid it from us," JJ drawls, "Morgan, did you know about this?"

"What?" The man's head pops up from his desk, "What do I know?"

"JJ, please-" You beg, but Prentiss is the one who answers, "Y/N's hitched!"

Derek's brows shoot comically high on his face, "Married-hitched?"

"No! I just wear rings sometimes," You insist, "Guys, I'm not married, this is ridiculous!"

"No one wears a ring that big unless it comes from a man who's equally endowed," Prentiss winks, that devilish grin on her face ever-present, "Come on, don't make Penelope deep dive, who's the lucky man?"

"What am I deep-diving for?" Garcia peers around the corner of the kitchenette, and you shoot Rossi a pleading look where he stands behind her. He'd been on his way back to his office, but apparently your drama has piqued his interest.

"She's married." Derek jerks a thumb at you, and it actually drops Garcia's jaw; you've always delighted in how cartoonish her reactions could be. Now, though, it provides enough silence for Rossi to speak, setting one of his hands on Penelope's shoulders.

"Don't waste your talents, Penelope. You don't need a deep dive to figure it out."

"Dave," You start, your voice sharp, but JJ cuts you off.

"Come on, you told Rossi before you told us?"

"She didn't tell me," Dave shakes his head, amusement glimmering in his eyes. You know he's absolutely ecstatic to be the one to let the cat out of the bag, and you resign yourself to slumping back in your chair as he changes the BAU forever more with two meager words: "Hotch did."

[casually-eat-my-soul]

Idk even care I’m going to say this with my full chest : Derek gets fucking offended to the highest level if someone says that he’s out of stiles league

That isn’t even the self hatred talking, but he’s always like “wtf are you talking about, stiles is brave, smart, loyal, kind, fierce ….. blah blah” he cannot fathom the idea of somehow being better than stiles, of being worth more than stiles.

Stiles is everything, stiles quite literally taught him how to let go of his anger and heal, stiles loved him to enough that he was able to love himself. Derek would be so furious to learn that people, including stiles think that he’s out of stiles league.

Some random person: how does it feel to be dating outside of your league

Derek stepping in front of stiles bout to murder this man: feels fucking great, I’m so lucky.

[mxauthor]

Not Of The Imagination

Summary: Spencer claims he has a girlfriend. Derek does not believe him at all.

Word Count: 1,614

Warnings: fluff, a bit OOC Derek

Derek Morgan is a ladies man. He knows how to talk to women, charm them into a flustered mess and get a number from them with ease. His charm is a weapon, something he knows how to use better than his gun. 

Spencer Reid is not a ladies man. He rambles people away and becomes flustered so easily that people think his skin tone is red. 

Derek Morgan is a charmer. Spencer Reid is the charmed. 

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

Friday afternoon. Everyone was ready to go home and spend the weekend doing whatever they wanted. Weekend plans were the topic of conversation at the moment with the bullpen attendees.

“So pretty boy, where are you doing this weekend?” Morgan asked. A teasing smile playing on his lips. Derek Morgan wasn’t a bully. He was anything but a bully, however, he was a brother. And brothers are known to tease their little siblings to no end. And Spencer was lucky enough to become Derek’s little brother. 

 “There’s this Korean Film festival happening throughout the next week. All foods, music and movies will be played in korean. Which is exciting since my girlfriend had wanted to brush up on her language skills and I thought this would be a great surprise for her.” Spencer missed the look of surprise on his friends faces when the word ‘girlfriend’ had left his mouth. Especially Morgan’s face. 

“Girlfriend?” Emily questioned softly. She was still a bit new to the team, but this was the first time a girlfriend was mentioned, especially attached to Spencer’s name.

“Wait what! Spencer, you have a girlfriend?” Derek questioned in disbelief. It’s not like he didn’t think that Spencer couldn’t get a girlfriend, but it’s still a complete shock that the shy, can’t talk to college kids his age, stuttering mess actually has a girlfriend. 

“Yeah, Her name’s Y/n. We’ve actually been dating for about 3 years now.” The goofy grin that broke out onto Spencer’s face was convincing enough for the women. But apparently not enough for Derek. 

“Really?” Spencer could hear the disbelief in Derek’s voice. He knew that the proclaimed ladies man, didn’t believe that he ‘scored’. But Spencer really didn’t care if he believed him or not. 

He still had you at the end of the day, that’s all that mattered to him. 

“Okay, what’s her last name?” Morgan asked.

“L/n.” Spencer answered without hesitation. He had a feeling that some of the asked questions are going to be the same that his mother asked him when he confessed that he was seeing someone. 

Derek nodded, trying to look convinced. “What’s her-” 

Before he even had the chance to finish his next question Spencer beat him to it. “She’s working as a barista at the moment because she’s going back to school to be a teacher. We met when we were 20 and started dating at 22. She’s kind and patient. She also really loves me and we are talking about moving in together after she graduates with her masters.” 

The small group was stunned at the flood of information. Emily, JJ and Penelope all began gushing about his girlfriend, happy that their resident genius had found someone that is making him happy. 

Derek, happy for his brother, still didn’t believe him. The girl sounded perfect for him, too perfect. Almost like he had conjured her up. 

“Do you have a picture of her?” Penelope was the first to ask. 

“No, sadly. All the pictures we have together are taken on her phone and they don’t transfer well when she sends them to me.” Spencer explained. The women deflated a bit hearing his explanation. 

“How convenient.” Morgan muttered. Penelope was the one who heard him. She snapped her head in his direction, fixing him with a glare. Derek only held his hands up in mock surrender. 

The group slowly began to disperse when paperwork began to pile up on each of their respective desks. The new shift of conversation began to fizzle out. Everyone now began to focus on the important work ahead of them before they could go home at 6. 

Except for Derek Morgan. The new revelation, still fresh in his brain. The Spencer Reid, the boy genius that stutters when given a simple compliment, has a girlfriend.

He has to see it to believe it at that point.

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

Derek didn’t get his confirmation until 3 months later. When he had almost forgotten that Spencer had claimed he had a girlfriend. 

A beautiful h/c had walked into the bullpen with a visitor badge clipped to her turtleneck sweater. She had a drink carrier in on hand and a plastic bag in the other. 

She stood near the glass doors, clearly looking for someone. A small frown appeared on her lips as the object of her delivery seemed to not be in the room. 

Morgan saw the contemplation on her face whether she was on the right floor or not. She took a step back towards the double glass doors, before Derek got up to give a helping hand. 

He calmly approached the pretty woman before calling out to her, “Excuse me miss, is there something you need help with.” 

The h/c turned at his voice, Derek could see slight recognition within her eyes. A small smile graced her lips before she spoke, “You must be Derek Morgan.” 

The named man furrowed his eyebrows. He had never met this woman before in his life, even if he had Derek would’ve remembered her face. 

The woman saw the confusion on his face as well as the slight guard he put up after she said his name. The h/c’s realization kicked in and her panic set in. “Oh no, I’m not dangerous. My boyfriend had told me a lot about you. Even showed me a photo of you. Well not of you but a group picture and pointed you out. And I’ve always been good at remembering faces. So when I saw you I just knew that you were Derek Morgan. Again I’m not dangerous.” 

Her lengthy explanation reminded him of the resident genius that was approaching the two of them. 

Spencer was very confused when he saw Derek Morgan speaking with his girlfriend of 3 years. He was even more confused when he saw her panicked expression and the slight wave of her hands as she tried to explain something. 

Spencer pulled open the glass doors to the bullpen and turned towards the interesting conversation that was happening. He didn’t get much of it, just the last bit where Y/n said ‘I’m not dangerous’. 

“What’s going on here?” The brunette male asked. He looked between his favorite people waiting for one of them to answer. 

“Oh, hello love. I was just coming over to see if you wanted to have lunch with me. I had a half day at work for class but then my professor canceled class last minute because he wasn’t feeling well.” Y/n had gestured to the food in her arms at the mention of lunch. 

She had swung by their favorite Thai place. Having not been there for a few weeks because of Spencer’s busy schedule and Y/n’s guilt for eating it without him. Spencer smiled widely at the offer of food and his lover for his break. 

“I’d love to honey. We can eat at my desk if you’d like.” Spencer offered. Grabbing the drinks from her to make the load easier to carry. 

Derek watched the exchange between them. Only putting everything together when you call Spencer ‘love’. 

“Holy shit she’s real.” He had meant to say it in his head. But the statement slipped out, causing the two of you to look at him with confusion. 

“You didn’t think she was real?” Spencer asked.

“Well, no. Just that she sounded really perfect for you so I had a hard time believing it at first. But then I met her and she literally reminded me of you.” Derek tried to explain but it didn’t sound all too convincing. 

Spencer and Y/n looked at each other before laughing. Y/n had just met Derek and he thought she was someone that Spencer made up. Their giggles made Derek feel stupid.

And that’s something he doesn’t feel often (not counting the times Spencer made him feel stupid). 

Y/n had calmed down first before holding out her free hand for Derek to shake, “Hi, my name is Y/n L/n. I’m going back to school to be a teacher but currently I’m working as a barista. I’ve been told I’m patient and kind. Spencer and I have been dating since we were 22 but we met when we were 20.” 

Y/n then spared a glance at Spencer before asking, “Same intro you gave him right?” 

Spencer nodded with a smile before kissing the crown of her head, “Yep same one you gave to my mom.” 

Derek looked between the young couple content on the evidence presented to him. Derek took Y/n’s hand and shook it giving a greeting of his own, “It’s nice to meet you Y/n. I’m Derek Morgan and I’ve become Spencer’s big brother. So don’t you go breaking his heart.” 

The toothy smile was answer enough, but Y/n couldn’t resist her response, “Wouldn’t dream of it.” 

Spencer had excused the two of them to go eat lunch at his desk. Spencer was happy that his lives were starting to blend together.

He’s especially glad that his favorite people were able to meet each other once and for all. Even though one of them thought the other was a figment of his imagination.

[unlosts]

Two Pair.

Summary: After a rough case Spencer keeps you company while the rest of the BAU sleeps.

A/N: I posted and then deleted this right away, but here it is again. I'm working on a couple of longer one shots but I still wanted to get something shorter out.

“Okay, whatcha got?” You ask, eyes narrowed taking in the lanky 6’ something man sitting across from you, his expression unreadable.

“I have a two pair” He says, sounding resigned, probably already well aware that he’s about to lose.

For the second time in a row. 

“Ha! A straight flush! Read em’ and weep doc” You said smugly, and perhaps a tad too loudly since what comes next is a loud shushing noise from the lump in the couch formerly known as Derek Morgan. 

“Sorry” You whisper back. It’s around 2am and most of the team is sound asleep, even Hotch who’s usually the last one out, the only ones still awake were you; whose adrenaline was still pumping strong after a car chase resulting in a very near miss, and a very much dead suspect. It had left you jittery and off balance, the sensation of failure hanging heavy on your shoulders and leaving you unable to close your eyes for even a few minutes, much less sleep. 

Spencer seemed to be in a similar state even though he had been left at the station, working on the geographical profile when you headed out. 

So three rounds and two winning hands later here you sat, no closer to sleep than before but his company was soothing.

Spencer operated on a set of carefully crafted routines, from his mornings in the bullpen at the BAU (One coffee with at least four suggars, eight crossword puzzles and at the very least a couple of newspapers before he could start on the seemingly never ending pile of case files haunting his desk), to the post case decompression routine (A chess match against himself or a poker game, usually against you). 

You found it soothing to watch, the expected repetition letting you know that you could relax, that everything was over with. 

So here you sat, in the back of the plane with only Spence’s long legs crammed in the smaller seat in front of you, knees bumping yours every time you so much as breathed.

His book light was the only thing illuminating your poker game and the harsh shadows cast over the table did make it harder to distinguish the numbers (the fact that you were refusing to use your glasses didn’t help either). 

A small stack of peanuts sits between you both, acting as poker chips. 

Despite your clear gloating Spencer just smiles at you, seemingly equally pleased, and keeping his losing hand close to his chest. 

“So, feeling any better?” He asks while shuffling the deck. You go towards the kitchen, softly squeezing Spencer's shoulder in gratitude as you pass by him. The tense wiry muscle underneath his soft purple shirt gives in to your touch and you linger for a second, giving him a small smile before you go. 

“Much, in fact i’m going to get a cup of tea and hopefully doze off for a couple of hours” You reply from the kitchen. 

“Remind me again of the chances of winning twice in a row?” Chimes in Derek unexpectedly from the couch, his eyes are still closed and even though you can’t see him he’s sporting a knowing smirk. 

“Um well it’s about 4% actually” Answers Spencer awkwardly, giving the kitchen a furtive look to make sure you’re not really paying attention to the conversation. 

“Huh, guess I must have gotten pretty lucky then” You say, too busy making your tea to hear Derek's response to Spencer, quiet but still teasing exclamation of “My man”

But when you did return to your seat right next to him you couldn’t help but notice that his cheeks were a tad pinker than they had been before. 

[our-sin]

Stiles is a wildlife biologist and one day stumbles upon a wolf pack during a hike through the national forest he works for. They weren’t gray wolves so at first he figures another species has finally made its was back to california but after an hour or so of studying them from a far he realizes they aren’t typical wolves and appear to follow many of the theorized versions of dire wolves.

Thinking he might have discovered a new species and a possible descendant of dire wolves he stays for the rest of the day and studies them further. He only leaves when the sun starts to set and keeps coming back to study them. He grows rather attached to the pack, especially when a particularly curious wolf comes up and introduces itself and eventually drags him by his sleeve over to meet the rest of the pack. He talks to them, tells them about how important they are and how lucky he is to be the one to have found them.

He keeps trying to publish his findings but no one else seems to be able to find them and whenever he brings a photographer out they’re always hiding. One day he brings his own camera, thinking the wolves are used to him and just scared of everyone else and he finds one of the pack dead. He doesn’t take a picture of course, feels it would be disrespectful to the creatures that so readily welcomed him. Instead he goes back to his jeep grabs a shovel and a knife before coming back to dig the poor thing a proper grave and putting down a marker with a big rock and doing his best to add an engraving. While placing the wolf in its grave he notices bullet wounds and cuts on the body and figures out someone had killed one of HIS wolves.

The next week he spends looking for a tracker that can help him find who hurt his pack -figures if they went after one they might have been going after the others too and are still possibly camped out somewhere. That leads him to Derek who agrees oddly quick considering Stiles can’t offer him much in the way of payment.

Day one Stiles leads Derek to the grave and where he found the wolf. The man does his tracker thing and starts leading them even deeper into the forest. It takes a couple of days before they find the hunter’s now deserted camp that has some bullets and gear left behind, even a gun. Derek seems even angrier than Stiles that they had only missed them by a day or so given the remains of a campfire. They stay there for the night before moving on first thing in the morning. Takes another few days before they find an active campsite with several hunters.

They try to lay low but at some point Derek loses his cool and gets them caught and subsequently captured (he had heard them talking about the pack mate they killed, not that Stiles knows that). The hunters tie them up and do their typical hunter thing which is how Stiles not only finds out about werewolves but that the dire wolf descendants he thought he discovered were really the pack fully shifted.

Anyway turns out the pack had been following their entire journey from a far and the night after Stiles and Derek are captured they attack the hunters camp. Both Stiles and Derek are seriously injured but Stiles being human is the more pressing issue. Stiles wakes up like days later in a super fancy house next to a wall of heat. The wolf that had introduced him to the pack initially which is, of course, Derek. The man had refused to leave his side since they left the camp. And once everyone is sure Stiles is alive and mostly well the pack introduce themselves as humans.

Then happily ever after and all that jazz.

[gghostwriter]

Hi was wondering if I could make a request?

I was thinking of a scenario where reader is a artist and Spencer catches her drawing him and willingly poses

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader Trope: Established Relationship; Fluff! Just fluff Warning: Tooth rotting fluff A/N: I think this would be the mushiest I've ever written, it's so cute. I hope you enjoy it! Main masterlist

Birds of a Feather. // Spencer Reid

There’s a common belief that states opposites attract and you’d say you and Spencer were a perfect example of this—he lives opposite your apartment, his career is part of the law enforcement industry while yours is from the creative industry, he’s a man of science while you’re a woman of art—to name a few. But all these were insignificant when you got to know him as a person. As Spencer Reid rather than SSA Dr. Spencer Reid. The same man who helped you carry boxes up to your floor when you first moved in. The same man who shyly accepted your dinner offer as a ‘thank you’, and the same man who tried his best to paint you a flower just to ask you out. 

All these small sweet nothings were what led to this lazy Sunday morning where the sunlight streams into your windows—the curtains softening its glow—hitting his brunette hair, turning strands into gold as he lounges on the sofa with a book in hand and as you hunch over your sketchbook, pencil scratching the paper, trying to capture this moment in time. 

Spencer was brought out of his riveting book on Quantum Physics when he felt your adoring gaze leaving and returning on him. He stealthily adjusted his position to take a peek at the sketchbook placed on your lap. 

He sucked in a breath when he realized what, or more specifically, who it was. 

“I-is that suppose to be me?” He clarified. 

You peeked at him through your lashes and nodded. “Yeah. Doesn’t it look like you?” 

“He’s too—pretty. Are you sure it’s me?” 

You giggled, catching on where he was going with it. “And you are! Derek calls you ‘pretty boy’ for a reason.” 

“That’s just him teasing me, Y/N.” 

You took his cheeks in your hands, minding the charcoal smudges on your fingertips. “Well I for one think you’re very pretty—inside and out.” You leaned in to give him a kiss. “So handsome, I can’t believe I get to call you mine.” 

Spencer melted under your affections. You always did have a way with your words in soothing his insecurities when they reared their head. Two years, six months, and eleven days of being together, you could read him like the back of your hand—an extension of you. 

“Sometimes I wonder—” he took your hands into his as the self-doubt started pouring out of him. “—how I got you to like me. We’re so different. You could have any man and—” he bit his lip. “—you still chose me.” 

“Hey, hey. Spence. None of that, okay? I’m the lucky one. I love your mind—” you placed a kiss on each side of his temple. “—and all the facts that you keep in it. I love your quirks—“ a peck on his left cheek. “—how you wear mismatched socks and always have an extra lipgloss in your bag since I lose mine. I love how you take care of me—” a kiss on his right cheek. “—how I’m the first person you talk to in the morning and the last one at night. And I love you—” a peck on his lips. “—in all of your entirety.” 

He cradled your head and leaned in for a longer kiss. It was as if he was communicating his adoration and devotion with each caress of his mouth on yours. He pulled away, noting the glassy look in your eyes and how swollen your lips looked. “I love you, Y/N.”

He looked down at your sketchpad. The drawing of him now messy and smudged in between your bodies. 

“That’s alright, Spence. I can always draw you again.” 

He placed the abandoned pencil back into your dominant hand. “Would you want—like me to pose for you?”

A smile blossomed on your face. The type backed by such delight and pleasure that he’d do anything for it to never go away. “You would?” 

He nodded, stunned with how you seemed to glow. 

“Okay, okay! You can just—” she pointed back to where he was a while ago. “—relax and continue reading.”

Following instructions, he lounged and open back his book—mindful of each movement that he made. As you were studying him—how the light casts a shadow on cheek, how graceful his neck looked. Spencer was also studying you—how each stroke of your hand was precise, how your tongue slightly peeked out when you concentrate, and how your cheeks would turn pink in color each time your gazes meet.

And although you’d like to believe that opposites attract, Spencer would like to believe that you and him were just ‘birds of a feather’. All the differences were inconsequential because he saw all the traits that you like to point out as his strengths—his empathy, his warmth, his brilliance, and even his beauty—in you, just infinity multiplied. 

And so on that very same day and minute, surrounded by the scratching of your pencil, the muffled noise of the city life outside, and the love that seemed to pour out of you like honey, he knew. He knew you were the one. 

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[reidsdimples]

Hi, love your work and i was thinking of a good story where it's "the reader and Spencer's wedding they are having a good time and Penelope wants to congratulate them but can't find them, she walks around and finally spots reader she is resting against the wall of a cleaning closet, they talk for a bit and she leaves, when Penelope leaves spencer comes from out of readers dress, and says that that was a close one"

Couldn’t Wait

18+❤️‍🔥MDNI‼️

My response to this lovely request 🥰

“You are insane! There has to be a hundred people out there!” You giggle at your new husband.

Spencer smiles at you, his cheeks staining red with pure adoration. He is overwhelmed by how gorgeous you look in your wedding dress. He wants nothing more than to rip it off of you and bury himself deep.

“It’ll be fine, no one is back here,” he shushes you and drops downs to his knees.

“Oh my god…” you look from side to side.

He had pulled you into a small closet with a curtain instead of a door. It was in the back hallway of the venue but you could still hear the music playing as the reception carried on.

“Spencer…” you warn. He nestles himself under your dress, and shoves you by your thighs against the wall. He spreads them wide and adjusts himself so his face is up against your cunt.

He is completely hidden under the massive gown of your white wedding dress but you can feel him. He starts kissing and nipping at your lace underwear. You want to smack him away but it feels so good when he presses his gorgeous face into your pussy.

He pulls your underwear to the side and sinfully dips his tongue between your folds for the first time as your husband.

“Oh…” you exhale at the warm welcoming feeling of his tongue. You wish you could run your hands through his hair but the dress is a barrier between you two.

It’s heady- not being able to see him but being able to feel him lap at your cunt like a man starved. You feel him humming and moaning into as his tongue swirls around your clit and he drags it back down into your entrance. Your entire body is on edge, alive, as he strokes you slowly.

His nails push into your soft thighs as he keeps your legs parted enough to keep tasting you. His head moves as he dives relentlessly into you and you start losing yourself in the sensation. The bass of the music beats in your chest and you throw your head back as you ride your grooms face.

“There you are!” Penelope appears in the doorway, slinging the flimsy curtain out of the way. “Why are you hiding in here?”

“I’m not hiding, just taking a moment,” you clear your throat and try to appear unfazed. Spencer has frozen between your legs.

“Where’s Spence?” She asks.

“Oh, I don’t know I thought he was with Ethan and Derek earlier,” you shrug.

“Well I just wanted to congratulate you personally…” she trails off when you startle in response to Spencer’s tongue on your clit again.

“T-thank you Penelope,” you huff a laugh. “It means the world to me that you’re here.”

You hope she doesn’t see your face turning red as your mans tongue teases you. You’re lucky Penelope isn’t a profiler. Emily or JJ would know what was going on immediately. You shift on your feet to try and get him to stop without being obvious.

“Are you okay?” She tilts her head.

“Yeah! I just get anxious at these things,” you lose your words for a moment when you feel his middle finger pushing at your entrance. “Social gatherings, I mean…”

“I understand. Especially because all the attention is essentially on you,” she smiles sincerely.

“And Spence,” you say his name as a half warning for him to hear because his entire middle finger is inside of you curling gently. You sputter out a cough to keep from moaning.

“Of course,” she beams. “I’ll see you back out there.”

“I’ll be back in a minute,” you reassure her. When she’s out of view you drag the curtain shut.

“I will kill you. I just married you and I will kill you Spencer Reid. Do you understand me?” He laughs but then latches his mouth back onto you.

You’re sent back against the wall and resume riding his face as he sets a rhythm with his finger and tongue.

“Fuck,” you whisper.

“You taste so good Mrs. Reid,” he praises and he knows you’re getting close.

God this perfect man between your legs, licking and finger fucking you while he’s moaning like it pleasures him… it’s too much. Your legs go taught, stars explode in your vision and your orgasm crashes through you.

He pulls his finger out and pushes his mouth into your harder, greedily lapping at you to get everything you have to offer him. He takes extra time to clean you up with his tongue before replacing your underwear to their correct position.

“Well that was close,” he smiles mischievously up at you. He pops out from under your dress, with his messy hair, black tux, maroon tie, handsome as hell.

You wipe the edges of his face as he grins proudly. He kisses you hard, greedily as if you didn’t already know you were his.

“I love you,” he whispers and holds you close.

“I love you more,” you promise.

When you walk hand and hand back out the reception area, Derek and Penelope greet you first.

“So pretty boy, you just couldn’t wait for the honeymoon, huh?” Derek claps him on the shoulder. Spencer’s face to red but he follows Derek who has his arm around him.

“Oh my god,” you whisper yell in horror at Penelope for telling.

“I blab! I’m sorry. You guys are just so cute,” she stamps her heeled feet and hugs you.

“You know I love you anyway,” you laugh and hug her back.

She hands you a glass of champagne and clinks her to yours.

[astrophileous]

What about bau!reader who gets shot on a case and Morgan gets angry? like really angry. i leave the rest up to you but i’m kicking my feet and giggling to the thought of morgan getting all angry and mad🤭

if any of you saw this post I made abt agent anderson, it was about this blurb lmao. ty for the request sweetie! I hope this is to your liking 💞

Warning(s): gn!reader, injured reader, talks of gunshot, derek is angry 😠, profanities

This blurb was written as a part of the "Zara's Birthday Bash and Road to 1K" celebration.

Zara's Birthday Bash and Road to 1K Masterlist / Criminal Minds Masterlist

Heavy footsteps thundered along the white stark hallway. People scampered like hunted rabbits when they saw him, but Derek didn't care. Nothing else mattered to him right at that moment except for reaching the destination in his mind.

Emily Prentiss was the first person Derek saw in the pristine waiting room. The black-haired woman stood to her feet the second her eyes landed on him. Emily had never seen such fury in the man's eyes. She didn't think she would even recognize him in this state if it weren't for the familiar face drilling holes straight through her skull.

"Anything?" Derek bellowed, his voice echoing against every available surface in the room.

Emily shook her head.

"How bad is it? Tell me."

"I don't know," the brunette lamented. "They already ushered (Y/N) inside when I arrived. I don't know anything."

"Well, somebody has to fucking know something." Derek started to pace, his posture domineering in the middle of the room. "Where is—"

Before he could formulate the name in his mind, the person in question appeared from the hallway with Spencer hot on his heels. Agent Anderson faltered in his tracks when he spotted Derek in the waiting room, his countenance getting paler as the latter stalked towards him.

"You," Derek seethed. "You tell me what the fuck happened out there, right now."

Anderson couldn't even look at Derek's face without trembling. Spencer stepped in between the two, trying to push Derek away by his shoulder but the older man wouldn't even budge.

"Morgan, this is not the time nor the place," Spencer warned.

"I'm not doing anything. I'm just asking a question," Derek sneered. "Am I right, Anderson? We're just having a conversation, right?"

"R-Right."

"Good. Now tell me what fucking happened."

The atmosphere thickened in the room. Anderson's eyes darted everywhere as if looking for a reprieve. It was a futile attempt, really. There was nowhere that the man could run where Derek couldn't follow.

"It was supposed to be routine questioning. We didn't—we didn't know that the guy had a warrant against him. I only heard the gunshot before I found (Y/L/N) in the backyard."

"Where were you? Why weren't you two together?"

"We... we, uh, we split up."

"You what?"

"(Y/L/N) said—" Anderson stopped himself when Derek proceeded to glower, forcing the younger agent to backtrack and choose his words more carefully, "—like I said, we didn't think the guy was any threat when we arrived. He shot (Y/L/N) and ran while I was calling for help."

The muscles on Derek's face twitched. "So, not only did you put (Y/N)'s life on the line, but you also let the shooter go free?"

"What? I didn't—we weren't—the injury isn't even that fatal!"

Anderson regretted it as soon as the words left his mouth. Spencer physically winced after hearing the sentence, and from across the room, Emily was frowning, shaking her head in disapproval as if she was reprimanding her young child.

"I see. It's not even that fatal, is it?"

"T-That's not what I—" gulping down, Anderson tried to scour for his voice, "—I just meant that the, um, the bullet? It didn't even go through. It only grazed (Y/L/N)'s side."

Spencer let out a tired sigh from between them.

"Yeah? You're lucky it didn't go through, Anderson." Derek stepped forward, his index finger blunt but piercing as it fell on Anderson's chest. "Because if the bullet did go through, I would've made sure that you'd fucking pay—"

"Excuse me? Anyone here for (Y/N) (Y/L/N)?"

Derek's threats were cut short by the doctor's appearance in the room. Anderson breathed out his relief as Derek approached the physician.

"I'm the fiancé, Doctor," Derek informed. "Can you tell us anything?"

"Well, I've cleaned and patched up the wound. The bullet only grazed the side so there aren't any shrapnels in it. Just needed a few stitches, really. It could've been worse," the doctor disclosed.

Derek nodded along during her entire explanation. "Can, uh, can I...?"

"Oh! Yes, of course. Just head down this hall. It's the second room to the right."

Derek barely managed to rush out a quick thank you before sprinting down the hallway shown by the doctor. He knocked on the second room to the right, hearing you yell a come in! before he went to open the door.

"Hey, you," Derek said once he was inside the threshold.

You were sitting on a stretcher, your shirt buttoned only at the top as your fingers deftly did the rest. Derek caught a glimpse of the bandage on your side and his heart was in a peril of jumping straight out of his chest. The harrowing feeling was eventually chased away by the sight of your blinding smile.

"Hi, handsome," you greeted.

Your voice was still the same exultant lull that he knew and loved all too well. In fact, if he didn't know any better, there was no visible indication to reveal the horrific encounter that you just went through a couple of hours prior. You looked the same. Normal. Derek allowed the relief to flood as this knowledge dawned on him.

"Why do you look like you just suffered through a massive heart attack?" you asked, bemused as you reached out a palm to his direction.

"Because it feels like I did just have a massive heart attack." Derek accepted your palm and kissed the knuckles before securing your joint hands inside the pocket of his jacket. "You scared the living shit out of me, sweetheart."

"I'm sorry, love. We were blindsided. Didn't mean to worry you."

"You're okay, though?"

"Uh-huh. Just a little sore. And it kinda hurts when I do this." You extended your arm, flinching when a surge of pain instantly ran down your side.

"Stop it. Don't do that. Why would you do that if it hurts?"

"To demonstrate," you replied nonchalantly. "By the way, you shouldn't have been so harsh on Anderson."

"What? How did you know?"

"I didn't. But I know how you are, and your answer just confirmed everything to me." Derek didn't know whether to feel deceived or impressed by what you just said. "You should ease up on him. It's not his fault, you know?"

"I don't know, sweetheart. When two people are paired together and one of them ends up in the hospital with a gunshot wound, I think it's fair to blame the other half of the pair for it, don't you think?"

"But it's the shooter's fault, Derek, not Anderson."

"The shooter may have pulled the trigger, but Anderson didn't have your back." Derek used his free hand to brush a knuckle against your cheekbone. "You wouldn't be here right now if he did."

You huffed an aggravated breath, detangling your fingers from his own in a rebellious act of frustration. "If the situation were flipped, and it was Anderson who lay here instead of me, you would've gone well out of your way to convince me that what happened to him wasn't my fault."

"If the situation were flipped, Anderson wouldn't even be lying on this hospital bed in the first place."

"You don't know that!"

"Maybe. But you don't know what could've happened, either." Derek's hand slipped along your elbow, tugging it gently as he shuffled closer to you. "C'mon, baby. We need to get you home."

"No." You shook his hand away from your arm, getting off the bed as Derek blanched in surprise. "I can do it myself."

Derek watched dumbfoundedly as you staggered towards the table where your jacket, gun, and credentials were stowed. He kept an eagle eye on you as you tried putting on the jacket by yourself, cringing internally when he heard the wretched hiss escaping your lips.

"Okay, baby, stop. That's enough. (Y/N)." Derek snatched the jacket off your back, rearranging its position before helping you slide each arm into the sleeves. "Just let me help you, dammit. Why are you so stubborn?"

"I don't need help from someone who berates other people for fun," you grumbled.

"That's what you think? That I'm doing it because it's fun?"

You paid Derek no regard as you teetered towards the lone chair in the room, sitting yourself down slowly before bending to fix your shoes that had become untied. It turned out to be an arduous feat to do with your injury, and for the next minute, you found yourself shifting into various positions to find one that wouldn't feel like a dozen knives being plunged straight through your flesh.

Across the room, Derek stared at every one of your movements in agony.

"C'mon, baby. Let me do that for you."

"No."

"You're literally in pain as we speak."

"I can take it."

"Why the hell are you doing this?"

"You know why."

Derek sighed.

"Fine," he relented. "I'll apologize to Anderson. Happy now?"

You stopped fiddling with the end of your shoelaces. Your entire face lit up like a kid in a candy store when you found his eyes from the distance. "Really?"

"Yes, really." Derek strode forward, kneeling in front of you so he could help you tie your shoelaces. "Just let me help you when you need me to, okay?"

"Okay!" you exclaimed, leaning down to leave a kiss on Derek's forehead.

Your fiancé had to contain his smile from your adorable but unexpected gesture. "You're lucky I love you, sweetheart."

Even as he said it, Derek knew that deep down, he was actually the lucky one.

[golden1u5t]

my proof | s.r x fem!reader

ꨄ requested: anonymous

ꨄ genre: smut

ꨄ summary: in which jj walks in on spencer fucking you after spending a day of teasing him with the others about not having sex.

"Come on man, just come out with us for once. You might get lucky and get laid." Derek put his hand on Spencer's shoulder, in which he shrugged off with a groan. "i’m telling you man, getting laid will fix all your problems, well, some of them."

"I don't have any problems." Spencer huffed and stormed off to go fix him another cup of coffee. Spencer didn't have any real problems, the only problem he had is that he missed you. He was counting down the hours and minutes before he could go home and see you, 2 hours and 15 minutes. 2 hours and 15 minutes before he could finally see you. 

When Spencer got back to his desk he could hear JJ, Morgan, and Prentiss all snickering with each other, gossiping like teenagers in high school. He shot them a glare from over his coffee mug and sighed dramatically when JJ walked over and sat at the edge of his desk.

"You're a virgin, aren't you?" She asked, a proud smile on her face as if she'd just discovered something, there was nothing to be proud about.

"What? No!" Spencer went red, starting with the tips of his ears ad spreading all the way down his neck. He was embarrassed by the question, speaking about his sex life in such a public place with his coworkers isn't something he liked doing. Spencer didn't share much of his personal life with the team, which is why they didn't know about you. While they liked to talk about their partners and their hook ups, Spencer preferred to stay quiet.

"Oh my god, you are!" Prentiss laughed, setting her pen down and fully turning her body towards Spencer. "You've never done it! You have no proof that you have."

Spencer was just turning redder by the second, embarrassment and anger making him hotter to the touch. "my sex life is none of your business!"

+++

"Oh fuck-" You moaned into the cushions on the sofa. Spencer had you bent over the armrest of the sofa while he practically railed you into the couch. You tried to lift yourself up but each time his hips snapped forward, it sent you flying back down.

Spencer looked down at you with a proud expression on his face, he was positively ruining you. Your hands gripped the cushions, you moaned and screamed with each snap of his hips, he was ruining you and he loved seeing it.

He wrapped your hair around his hand and pulled you up so he could hear all the moans and screams he was pulling from you without them being muffled. Spencer leaned over your body so his chest was pressed against your back. "that feel good, baby?"

You reached back and held his head, your hips starting to move back to chase the high that was so close. "Yes- oh god, yes! M'gonna cum, spence. Gonna cum for you-"

Spencer groaned in your ear once he started to feel your walls tightening around his cock.He leaned up and pushed you back down into the sofa, his thrusts starting to come faster and harder. He was getting close himself, he was no longer trying harder to make you cum but he was also trying to make himself cum. You reached back to grab at any part of him you could reach as you finally got your release, Spencer not too long after you.

The door rattling should have been enough of a warning that someone was about to come into the apartment, but Spencer was so caught up in how good you felt around him that he didn't hear it until the door slammed open.

"Get out!" He yelled and quickly covered your body with the blanket that was draped over the back of the couch. You sat up to see who had barged in but you only caught a glimpse of blonde hair. Spencer carefully pulled out of you and tucked himself back into his boxers and quickly pulled his shirt and pants back on, he made sure you were okay and covered before going to the door.

"What are you doing here?" He panted as he opened the door, he stepped outside into the hallway and closed the door behind him.

"Hotch- he wanted- hotch- you weren't answering your phone." JJ's eyes were wide and her heart was nearly beating out of her chest, she would probably never see Spencer the same after that.

"I was busy." 

"I can see that." She cleared her throat and looked around awkwardly, she knew she probably should've left the situation alone and just left but her curiosity always got the best of her. "Who was that!"

Spencer rolled his eyes and opened the door to his apartment, he stepped back inside. "My proof. Let Hotch know I'll be there in an hour."

[shojizbae]

Mothers Day

Spencer Reid x Reader

As the newest member of the team, everyone is shocked by your boldness.

Everyone knew not to trespass when Las Vegas or Mental illness was a factor in the case. Everyone but you, apparently. By chance, the team's last case to Vegas was two months before your hire. Now, you were making very dangerous strides around a very delicate subject. The Unsub was suspected to be a man on a psychotic break and had begun devolving before the team had even been called in. Ever the overtly ambitious profiler you wanted to follow Spencer Reid for his ultra-secret contact.

"He prefers to go alone." My eyes met the dark brown hand on my bicep

"We really shouldn't be going places alone. You know the FBI minted the buddy system?" I shook him off

"I know, baby girl, but this is delicate. You just gotta leave it alone."

"Derek, you, of all people, should be aware of my incessant control problems."

"I have to agree with Morgan. This is something you need to let be."

"But you know I can't. Doctor Reid!" I darted off after him. He was tense, like the way people get when they hear a tornado siren and have to put themselves in their basement or put a mattress over their bathtub. He was preparing for disaster. "I truly believe it would be beneficial if I were to go with you."

"Would it be benefitting the case or your psyche?" He prods

"Well, both and neither." I readjust my little rectangular glasses, "As you know, I'm extraneously protective, to a fault. Also, I am working on my doctorate in psychology and I'm writing a dissertation on noncommutative disorder clusters. And I'm comfortable around disorders. Actually, I find it strange that when we talk about OCD, we call it a 'disorder' when people just like things organized in a particular manner." I snort to punctuate my rambling, but he only grits his jaw. "Aw man, that joke usually kills in my schizoid heredity focus group." He sighs as he tugs his satchel on.

"You need to stay quiet and low profile." He orders, and I know my dorky smile splits my face. He leads me to a big black SUV, where I take the driver's seat. He gives me directions, leading me from the way through town street and down some scary back roads. Eventually, we pass a sign that reads Bennington Sanitarium. He tells me to turn left, and we park in the back of the parking lot. He tells me to leave my gun in the car, and I follow him with my head down.

"So, who's this ultra-secret contact you have?" His stress seemed to triple, "Some fancy professor from Caltech?" He's being intentionally nebulous, I'm aware but there's some fun in playing nosy-cop.

"No, it's not someone who worked at Caltech."

"Oh, but a professor? Where'd they work, Burkley? Or maybe some school in Vegas. Let's see, there are not that many high-profile universities in Vegas."

"No, she hasn't worked in years." His voice sharpens in frustration, so I back down, readjusting my glasses, and licking the corner of my lips. We enter and a receptionist recognizes Spencer immediately with a big smile.

"Dr. Reid how lovely to see you. Have you come to visit your mother? She'll be ecstatic. It's been far too long." Oh, like mother like son. She must be a psychiatrist. I smile softly at the notion. It will be so interesting to see who and where Spencer came from.

"Thank you, Sheryl, how has she been."

"Well, she has her day, but mostly, she just reads. You know the book club started a new series." Sherly playfully brushes his arm and giggles.

"That's good."

"She should have just gotten out of therapy." Sheryl smiles and rakes her eyes over the young doctor. Finally, she makes eye contact with me.

"Oh well, you're new," she cheers in a vaguely Midwestern accent. You'll need a visitor's pass, hon." She gets one from a drawer and hands it to me. "So, do you work at the FBI, too, or are you coming to meet the in-laws?"

"I'm an agent," I laugh. If I were lucky enough to snag him, that would be an HR nightmare." Playfully, I pat his chest. He guffaws dryly as I slide the plastic lanyard around my neck.

Spencer leads me through the building, mostly there are elderly people playing chess or using oil pastels as nurses and orderlies orbit them. He leads me through a large living room past an Asian woman knitting. We find a woman with blonde hair biting her nails on the couch as she ponders something.

"Hi, Mom," He warbles. There's an extra beat between his greeting and her response. It's like she snaps out of a trance when she sees her son.

"Spencer, honey, what are you doing here?"

"Me and my frie-"

"Oh my goodness, thank whatever deities you deny the existence of; you're finally giving me some grandchildren."

"No, Mom, this is my coworker Agent (L/n). She and I just have some questions for you regarding our case."

"Well, at least sit down." She pats the space next to her, and Spencer obeys, "You too, young lady."

"Yes, ma'am." I take the only spot right next to him, and Spencer begins rattling off questions while his mom sits there with her hand under her nose. She sits and observes Spencer like no one at the BAU does. When he finishes contextualizing the case with her she stews on every word like his voice is her favorite song.

"So our first question for you is, uh (Y/n), you might be better at asking." He makes the wringing motion of cracking his knuckles, but no sound comes out.

"Um, mostly, the bureau is interested in the capabilities of delusion to overlap reality. When you are having an episode, do you recognize the difference between your actions and your perceptions?" I retrieve a legal pad and a fountain pen and click it theatrically. Diana keeps her hand over her mouth and inhales longingly through her nose. She points at me but doesn't look at me.

"You're a very smart young woman," She locks her eyes on me, "I'll answer your questions if you answer mine."

"Of course, wagers are the drug of choice in Vegas, well that and alcohol and mostly any other drug you can think of." I correct myself

"God, you're so much like him." She looks to her son."Why aren't you dating my Spencer?"

"Uh," is all that dumbly spills from my mouth.

"You two seem perfectly suitable for each other. Is it because he's so skinny?"

"No,"

"Well, he's incredibly handsome and talented; even a pigeon could see he's intelligent beyond a lexicon." She rambles

"Mom, I think that's enough."

"Spencer, you haven't visited me in over a year, and how do you believe that's any way to speak to your mother." She reprimands me. Had the information not shocked me, I would have giggled.

"Spencer, over a year?!" I swat his arm, "You've had time off. Why wouldn't you come to visit?"

"Oh well, I've still gotten my daily letters," she pouts. But it's been too long, and I'm getting old." She begins to bat her eyelashes, and she holds onto his arm.

"I'm trying, Mom," he whined

"To visit or to get me some grandkids?" she sasses

"Mom," He groaned, and I couldn't help the giggle that escaped my lips.

"What about you, young lady? Do you have any kids??"

"No, ma'am."

"Why not?" I could see where Spencer gets his tunnel thinking.

"My career has made it difficult to go out on dates and fall in love," I admitted it was almost like Diana could extract the truth from me

"Well, then, date my Spencer."

"Mom!" he protested

"Shh! It's a win-win: I get grandbabies, you get dates, and neither of your careers gets in the way." I meant to retaliate, but her infallible logic knocked all the fire out of me.

"Let's finish up this interview and solve this case then we can circle back." I mitigated

Two days later, the case was solved, and we were riding the jet back to Virginia. Everyone had filed off the plane but Spencer and I.

"So, do you have any plans tonight?" It threw me further off guard than Diana.

"I was just gonna turn on Real Housewives reruns and cuddle cannoli." It was how I spent most nights.

"Would you object to a date?"

"Tonight?"

"We could watch the Real Housewives and hang out with your cat??"

"You want to do that?"

"It sounds much better than sweating in an overpriced Italian restaurant." He laughs and rings his knuckles

"it does, I think I have NBC, we could watch Star Trek after." I offer as we walk from the landing strip to the BAU. We made a sojourn at his home so he could shower and put on comfortable clothes. Two years later it would be cannoli to ring bear your wedding. Spencer would have to credit his mother who walked you both down the aisle simultaneously for your relationship and the whole team would have to agree.

[daydreamingqueen1]

Sweets thief

Pairing: Spencer Reid x BAU!Reader

Warnings/Content: none. pure fluff, a wee bit of bullying to spence (totally harmless and friendly though), crushes, unhealthy amount of candy ingestion lol, no y/n, gn!reader too

Summary: You've been stealing sweets from your resident genius.

Word count: 1.2k

✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆

It wasn't unusual for the BAU members to carry snacks with them.

The job was hard, stressful and, most importantly, it had unpredictable hours. So finding time to eat a proper meal wasn't always a viable option.

Nevertheless, eating is a basic human need and even if it's not completely healthy, the agents often found themselves battling their hunger with quick snacks.

As a relatively new member of the BAU, buying said vital snacks wasn't yet ingrained in your mind, resulting in you continually forgetting to buy something to munch on during cases.

Stealing was always an option though.

After several months with your coworkers, you are proud to say that you have managed to eat at the expense of all of their pockets, for experts in human behavior, they don't hide their treats so well.

However, after several months, you have come to know their go-to snacks and, subsequently, you have become picky.

Morgan eats some kind of high-protein bars with an awfully bright neon wrapper.

Emily loves those salt and vinegar chips every station has on their vending machines.

JJ, ever the healthy mom of the group, always has a few packages of oatmeal raisin cookies on hand.

Rossi carries eucalyptus and mint gummies like the old man he is.

And Hotch buys the most bland granola bars known to mankind.

With all of that said, the conclusion was obvious.

Spencer has the best snacks.

It is not only that he always has sweets but that he's the only one that manages for variety instead of a fixed thing. A bit ironic considering he is the most prone to sticking to a rigid routine. Well, you aren't complaining though, especially not this month.

You realized quickly that Halloween was a big thing for the resident genius, seeming to make the grown man regress to the mentality of an overly eager seven-year-old. It's lucky for you because that means that he chooses to try a new candy every single day of October.

It also means that you had begun stealing exclusively from him and, being surrounded by profilers, it wasn't long until you were discovered as the culprit.

A shadow had eclipsed your desk suddenly, making you look up to a squinting Dr. Reid. “Did you take my last Peanut Butter Cup?”

You shook your head, “No...”

Derek snorted on the desk nearby, “You've still got chocolate on your face, kid,”

Cleaning your mouth with the back of your hand, you smiled up at Spencer sweetly.

His converse sounded hard against the floor as he stumped away.

Apparently, you weren't that discreet. He ended up catching you many more times after that.

"Hey!" Spencer swatted your hand when you grabbed yet another handful of his M&Ms.

You shrugged, feigning innocence, “Hey to you too Reid, but we've been in the same room for a while.”

He huffed, inching the box slightly out of your reach.

Many more times.

Your hand was literally inside the familiar size bag of Starburst candy when Spencer came back from the bathroom.

“Oh come on!” he groaned, taking the bag out of your grasp, “Buy your own.”

You went back to the local police station office, giggling to yourself like a child with your hands full of candy.

At this point hunger had become a secondary motive to your stealing. The number one reason being how adorable Spencer's reactions were when he caught you.

In all honesty, you harbored a bit of a crush on the man. You didn't have the courage to tell him upfront, making your silly brain manifest your feelings like a preschooler pulling on the pigtails of their crush. Oh, but teasing him was so fun, and it got you free candy so it was even better.

Then, yesterday, there was an incident.

The team was on the jet, another kidnapped girl had been safely returned to her parents, fairly quickly this time too. Spirits were high at wrapping up a case with such a positive outcome, making most of the agents mingle and play games on the usually quiet ride home.

You were perched on one of the individual seats, scrolling away in your phone and absentmindedly eating some candy (you had bought your own for once).

You jolted a bit when a hand dived into your candy bag. When you looked up, you found a smirking Spencer standing right in front of you, looking fairly smug and popping a piece into his mouth. He thought he was finally getting back at you for eating all of his sweets.

His joy lasted for about three seconds before he realized his mistake.

See, to the untrained eye, he had just eaten a couple of innocent looking bear gummies. Except, these were not regular gummies, they were your favorite kind, the most sour kind.

Spencer's face scrunched up with disgust, the sour effect of the gummy doubled at taking him by surprise, the acidic taste completely taking over his taste buds.

You couldn't help it, you bent over your belly with laughter, inadvertently drawing attention to Spencer's predicament.

The whole team snickered as they watched him rush back and forth on the narrow hall of the jet until he got hold of a tissue to spit the offending candy.

“What the hell is that?” he turned around to confront you.

You gave him an apologetic smile, “Sour candy?”

More laughs filled the space and Spencer had sat down on the furthest chair from yours, pouting with his arms crossed over his chest.

Back to today, you feel actually kind of guilty about what happened. You have been munching on all of Spencer's treats for weeks and the one time he does it to you, the whole team ends up making fun of him. A bit of teasing was fine but you don't want the man to actually feel bad.

So when you see him stand up from his desk and walk into the kitchen, you quickly jump out of your chair and grab something from your bag, trailing right behind him through the bullpen.

He's making himself an exaggeratedly sweet cup of coffee when you corner him.

“Spencer,” you call, making him turn around. Your hands are inconspicuously behind your back, “Trick or treat?”

His eyebrows furrow suspiciously, “Neither if you're going to give me one of those monstrosities you like.”

You huff out a laugh, “No, no, I promise it's not that. Come on, trick or treat? ”

After measuring up how much he trusts your statement, he relents, “Treat.”

“Ta-dah!” you sing, revealing a single Hershey’s Kiss in your palm.

Spencer's eyes light up.

“I know it doesn't make up for everything I ate but it's an offer of peace.”

He gives you a small smile, “Thank you, I appreciate it.”

As his hand extends to grab the chocolate, your brain has an impulsive thought.

You lean forward and peck his lips.

It lasts barely a second but it's enough to make your heart beat wildly against your chest.

Spencer stares at you frozen in place, a crimson color spreading all over his face.

“A kiss for a kiss,” you mumble dumbly, like saying that makes it better somehow.

‘Stupid, stupid, stupid!’ You think to yourself, your feet are prepared to flee the scene when he unexpectedly grabs your wrist.

“I– I...” he stammers, his cheeks turning impossibly redder, “I wouldn't mind if you stole more of those.”

A shy smile spreads on your face. Perhaps you won't start buying your own snacks soon.

✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆

it's a bit silly but I was feeling halloween-y and craving sour candy

leave me a prompt or idea you'd like me to write!

♡, reblogs and comments are appreciated <3

hope ya liked it, byebye

My masterlist

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

The Perfect Gentleman

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.8k

Warnings: fluff

Summary: Spencer is the perfect gentleman for you, in every way that counts.

Square Filled: spiderman kiss for @spencerreidbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

It’s hard to find a good man these days. All of your ex-boyfriends had something wrong with them in one way, shape, or form. Either they always thought of themselves, always put you second, or were total douchebags and dicks. You almost swore off men completely until you met Dr. Spencer Reid.

He is the perfect gentleman. He is nothing like what you’ve experienced before. He always puts you first, always thinks of you, and never has made you feel less than not even once. He made you feel safe and that’s all you ever wanted in a man.

The weather is nice enough to allow you to walk to your favorite coffee place rather than drive there. The street isn't too busy with cars but that doesn’t mean you’ll stop exercising caution when walking on the sidewalk. Spencer is walking on the left side while you’re on the inside of the curb, and you look at him with a smile.

The sun hits his face just right, giving his flawless skin a slight shimmer. God, how did you ever get so lucky to land a man like him?

You look behind you to see the street empty and you smirk to yourself. You let go of Spencer’s hand and make it look like you’re fixing something in your hair when you slow down enough to fall behind, and you switch sides with him so that you're walking on the outer side of the sidewalk, closest to the street.

“Ha, ha, very funny. Get back over here,” Spencer chuckles.

“What? I want to walk on the left side this time.”

“No, you’re going to walk on the right side and let me protect you. Come on, I don’t want to have to throw you over my shoulder.”

“Tempting,” you giggle.

“What if someone wants to kidnap you? They have easy access to do it.”

“What if they decide to kidnap you?”

“A beanstalk like me? Nah, only the pretty girls like you. Come on, get over here.”

You smile and comply with his request, getting back on the right side of the sidewalk. Spencer takes your hand in his and kisses your palm.

Even when he doesn’t try to be a gentleman, it comes out naturally. He is always looking for ways to make your life easier because he doesn’t want to see you overworking yourself. He loves you too much to see you put yourself through that.

Moving day is finally here. You and Spencer will be together without worrying about time or whether or not you have to go home for things. You two are moving into his apartment; nothing ever felt more right.

You got out your lease a month early and packed up all your shit, now all that’s left to do is take all the boxes out of the moving truck and put it inside his place.

He jogs down the stairs after bringing a box up and sees you struggling to pick up the box full of your books. You made it light enough for you to carry but not heavy enough to put it on a dolly. The only problem you’re having is picking it up off the ground.

“Nope, let me do this one.”

“Spencer, I am perfectly capable of doing this.”

“Darling, what if you trip and crack your head open on the stairs? No, I’m doing it.”

“Okay, what if you do that?”

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head about me,” He kisses you quickly and takes out his wallet. He takes out forty bucks and hands it over to you. “Call JJ and Penelope. I hear they have a new coffee shop in town.”

“No, I can’t leave you to do this by yourself.”

“I’ll be okay. I can call Derek if I need help. Go. Enjoy your afternoon.”

Again, how did you get so lucky to snag him?

Spencer always makes it his mission to make sure you’re comfortable no matter what you two go. It could be the briefing room or on the plane and he'd make sure you have a pillow for the flight or back support for your chair. It could also be him making sure your bath water is at the right temperature for a relaxing night in.

In order to catch the unsub red-handed, the team has to attend this elegant party that he is hosting. His MO is finding rich couples to lure upstairs where he’d drug both of them and strip them of all their valuables before killing them. Hotch theorizes that he’s here tonight about to do the same thing.

You and Spencer arrive at the party first, and you step out of the limo Hotch rented for you. If the unsub is going to think you’re rich, you need to arrive in a limo. However, you didn’t judge the weather properly. You thought it was going to be a lot warmer than it is. A shiver runs down your spine and Spencer notices goosebumps on your arm.

You’re wearing a royal purple strapless dress that goes down to your calves with a sequin lining on the outside. Spencer doesn’t think you can get even more beautiful than you are now.

“Here, take my jacket.”

He strips off his outer jacket before you have a chance to protest.

“No, Spencer, it’s okay. I’m fine,” you say even as he’s draping his jacket over your shoulders.

Damn, this jacket smells just like him and it’s warming your heart as much as it’s warming your skin.

“Take it. You’re cold.”

“Now you’ll be cold.”

“Don’t worry about me. I don’t want you catching a cold.”

It’s the way he said it that makes you want to cry out of pure happiness. He makes you so happy that sometimes, he feels like a dream.

One of Spencer’s favorite games is finding new ways to kiss you. He loves the traditional kiss but also loves Eskimo kisses, butterfly kisses, palm kisses, neck kisses, and your personal favorite, Spider-Man kisses. He never tells you when he’s going to do them because he loves seeing the blush on your cheeks whenever he pulls away from you.

“I know Hotch says he wants us to come up with a game plan on how to catch the unsub, but I think our resources are better spent finding his next victim. If we can pinpoint the kind of women he likes to target, we can be better prepared for when he strikes next.”

You and JJ are trying to come up with a way to stop this sunubs before he hurts any more people ad she is agreeing with your plan a lot more than Hotch’s. He’ll understand why you had to go this way once you catch the unsub.

“If this doesn’t work, I already have Morgan and Prentiss working on Hotch’s plan.”

“Thank you,” you breathe a sigh of relief. “Now, how should we go about this?”

Spencer walks into the bullpen with two cups of coffee when he sees the worry lines on your forehead. Hotch has been showing down on you recently so you’re just trying to do your best not to piss him off more than you already have. He sets both coffees on his desk and walks over to yours without letting you know he’s there.

When he gets to you, he gently grabs your hair and pulls your head back to kiss you Spider-Man style. The tension from your shoulders immediately dissipates and all that you can think of is Spencer. He knows you and JJ are working hard so he keeps the kiss short and sweet but nothing less than passionate.

When he pulls away, he sees the slight blush on your cheeks that makes him smile.

“I love you,” you whisper.

“I love you, too.”

Spencer always had your well-being in mind both physically and mentally. It doesn’t matter where you are or if you’re without him. He will make sure that you’re safe at all times because he knows the worst thing can happen in the blink of an eye.

You: I’m getting gas. Be home shortly.

You’re not even out of the car when you get a reply back.

Spencer: DON’T MOVE. I’LL BE RIGHT THERE.

At first, you’re confused as to why he’s coming down here when you’re almost home. Maybe he has something to give you and can’t wait? Did he forget something and need your car to go get it? Whatever the reason, you can’t sit at this gas station all day and wait for him to show up. There are people waiting to use the pump.

You leave your car and put in your card to pay for it when Spencer’s car practically comes speeding into the gas station. He parks off to the side, gets out, and jogs over to you.

“Did you speed all the way over here?”

“Get in the car. I’ll do this.”

He hates you already put your card in, but he’ll send you money for however much the gas is.

“What are you doing?”

“Pouring my girl’s gas for her. This thing is filthy and you can get sick. Or you can fall victim to a robbery. Or someone can kidnap you. Just sit back and let me do my job.”

He kisses you and takes the pump out of the slot.

“You drove ten miles from our warm apartment just to pump my gas for me?”

“Yes. Get in the car.”

You’d have melted into a puddle if it weren't so damn cold outside.

Spencer never once puts himself first because, to him, you’re his entire world. He takes care of what he loves and that would be solely you.

Derek had invited you two to a dinner party he and Savannah are hosting at their house along with JJ and Will and Kevin and Penelope. It’s a couples night which is why Emily wasn’t invited. Though, you did promise her a girls’ night tomorrow. She preferred to stay in anyway, so she’s not too upset over not being invited.

Spencer arrives at Derek’s house and turns off the car after parking it. You unbuckle your seatbelt and grip the door handle to get out when Spencer shouts at you.

“Wait!” You jump in surprise and watch as he gets out and rushes over to your side of the car. He fixes his tie in the reflection of the car’s window before opening your door for you. “M’lady.”

“Why thank you, kind sir,” you grin and grab his outstretched hand. He helps you out of the car and closes the door behind you. “Are you going to do this every time we go somewhere?”

“Why wouldn't I?” Years of broken boyfriends have wired your brain to think this behavior is weird. However, Spencer is starting to fix that. “Have I told you that you look absolutely stunning?”

“Every day,” you smile.

“Good. I don’t want you to forget it.”

How could you when you have a man like Spencer Reid?

x

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[luveline]

JADEEE I'M THE ONE WHO REQUESTED SPENCER X BADASS READER (the one where they read a book together). I LOVE IT😭😭 may I share some request again? maybe it is a day off and one of the bau member saw reader and spencer spend their day off together like a couple?? maybe they bump into them at the alley of supermarket because reader and spencer is going to cook dinner together???

thank you for requesting gorgeous!! ♡ fem!reader

Derek supposes he shouldn't be shocked. He knows you and Spencer are making a go of going steady, knows you see each other outside of work, even knows you're sleeping at one another's places between cases (Here, you forgot your badge last night, Spence). 

It's hard to align his view of you with what he's seeing, is all. You're not spiteful, only stoic. Never cruel, but stern. And there you are on your knees by the cantaloupes tying Spencer's shoelace, mumbling something too quiet to hear. 

"Do you like honeydew?" Spencer asks, thumbing along your forehead gently. 

Derek's proud of him through the boggled haze. He always knew Spencer was a kind, loving man, and seeing him display that through small gestures has a brotherly pride swelling in his chest. 

You tap Spencer's ankle and climb to your feet. You keep some of your usual attitude even with Spencer, refusing his helping hand. "I like it if you like it." 

"That's not an answer." Spencer points to the dropping shelf of watermelon, their green stripes like shining emeralds, freshly misted. "We need one of these." 

"We don't need one. You just liked when I cut them up for us." 

"Yeah, I did. In Egypt they serve sliced watermelon with feta cheese." 

"Yeah?" you ask, reaching for a melon. You turn it around to examine the bottom, looking for a yellowed spot where the watermelon would've laid in the field. "That's a choice. Doesn't sound as nice as our chocolate fondue."  

"The first ever record of watermelons were in Egypt, so they'd know best." 

You smile at him with lips pressed together, your eyes soft with fondness. All the women in Derek's life are beauties, but he thinks love has made you prettier still. He isn't surprised when Spencer reaches out and strokes the back of your hand. 

"Hey, lovebirds," Derek croons. 

Your shoulders don't stiffen, exactly, but you lose the relaxed droop you'd acquired as you and Spencer both turn to face him. 

"Hey," Spencer says, "what are you doing here? I thought this place was too 'hokey-pokey' for you?" 

"Hey, their coupons never work. What are you guys up to? Plans tonight?" 

You withhold the typical None of your business, confessing, "Spencer and I are making breakfast for dinner." 

You have your secrets, but you don't hide Reid. It's why Derek doesn't mind the occasional snap or frosty smile; your coldness is a shield rather than a weapon. 

"And you guys eat watermelon and…" He peers into your shopping cart, miscellaneous items scattered throughout. "Massage oil?" 

You glare at him. "Don't get any ideas. It's for his knee."

Derek smirks. "Breakfast of champions." 

"We only just got here," Spencer explains your empty kart. 

"Yeah, well if what I just saw is the norm, we can expect you'll both be home sometime tomorrow morning. He'll talk your ear off if you let him, you know?" Derek asks you. 

Your glare softens. Derek might even say you're smiling at him. "I'd let him," you say. 

"He's a lucky guy," Derek says. He gives Spencer a clap on the shoulder. "I'll see you kids Monday." 

"See you, Morgan," Spencer says. 

Derek walks away, basket in hand and determined to grab a carton of eggs and get out of here, but he slows when he hears Spencer talking again. 

"Why do you act like you don't like him?"

You're too quiet for the untrained ear. Thankfully, Derek's highly trained. "I don't. Derek knows I like him. I just didn't want there to be any confusion."

"Confusion about what?" 

"About who I want." You say it simply. Derek can imagine the steam funnelling out of poor Spencer's ears. "You can be easily deterred, Spence. I wanted you to know I liked you." 

"I know now. You and Morgan would get along really well if you let him talk to you, you both care about–" 

"You?" you ask. "Let's go look for that weird miniature toast you wanted, or we really will be here all night." 

"It's not miniature toast, it's melba toast, and it's actually a kind of rusk–" His babbling fades out of range. Derek snorts and grabs a small carton of eggs. He knew you liked him. 

Not as much as you like Spencer, that's for sure.