Effortless
spencer reid/gn!reader
coming into this from a fandom where my last fic got literally 11 notes (half of which were my own self-rbs) the reception for workplace hot was heartwarming, pls accept more pre-relationship work crush goodness as thanks🧡🧡
series masterlist
word count: 1.6k// warnings: absolutely hopeless pining, this man is so so clever but so so oblivious
summary: Taking care of you just comes naturally to him.
“Chicken.”
“Did you know, the origin of ‘chicken’ in reference to someone who’s afraid can be traced back to the use of ‘hen-heart’ as a synonym for ‘fainthearted’? Its first documented use was in the York Mystery Plays - which are considered to have been written prior to 1450.”
“Chicken.” Morgan repeats.
“Shut up.”
While his second response is decidedly less eloquent, Spencer’s pretty sure he can’t fact-dump his way out of this particular conversation.
It’s not exactly a secret - his giant, all consuming, world ending crush on you - at least, it’s not a secret from anyone except you. He’s past being embarrassed about it when one of the others brings it up, as long as it’s not around you. That’s happened exactly once, and Spencer’s automatic response was to chatter about the migration patterns of a specific type of bird he’d read an article about the day before. Ceaselessly. No matter how much everyone else had begged him to stop, until the previous subject was well and truly forgotten. So when you’d asked a leading question about another kind of bird? He was more than happy to oblige. You’ve always done that, listened to him. It’s nice.
It’s probably what got him in this mess in the first place.
Somewhere along the way, a routine developed itself. He remembers the first day you asked him to elaborate on something he’d started on earlier in the day, trivia about the fluctuations in the popularity of a specific make of car. It had ended up being useful in the context of the case anyway but, more importantly to Spencer, the tidbit had you cornering him in the kitchen to ask him about it. And now it’s just what happens. You potter around to make your lunch, he chatters about the most recent paper he’s read like your own personal podcast.
It’s a comfortable friendship, solidified by little things like that. Though they’re not all that little to him, if anything they’ve only deepened his feelings for you - he doesn’t let on, for your sake, he tries not to.
But his affection sneaks out in other ways.
He gravitates towards you without realising it, just to exist in your space. At the round table, on the jet, at crime scenes, in whichever office the local PD have cleared out for the team. He’s never hovering, but he’s not not hovering. Just working parallel to you. It’s why he likes the bullpen, for all its hustle and bustle, because he can look at you out of the corner of his eye whenever he wants to. He can spin his chair to face you, stretch his legs out across the aisle, and let a wave of sheer steadiness wash over him. Sometimes it’s you, reaching over to hand him something or abandoning your post completely to perch on the corner of his desk. Spencer thinks that’s what it might be, the peace you seem to exude that quiets his busy mind - the kindness you extend to victims and their families that flows through your very veins. It follows you like an aura, there’s very little he won’t do to be bathed in it whenever he can. It’s all led to a unique dynamic that means you’re paired up together more often than not.
You move around each other unconsciously now, leaning over maps and files and evidence. Swapping pens and ducking under one another’s arms as you both scribble away at the board. It’s almost choreographed, natural. Everything is with you, and that’s what gets him. There’s a part of Spencer Reid’s brain that is dedicated to considering his actions in relation to the people around him, running in the background like a computer programme, but he doesn’t have to run it around you. He doesn’t think, for once. He just does.
It’s effortless, second nature, to make space for you. The same as it is to leave a seat open for you, even if it’s the only one. To nudge you gently when you’re too far in your own head to realise you’re picking at your skin. You’ve started nudging him back in recent weeks when he does the same, chewing on the inside of his lips and paying absolutely no mind to the damage he’s doing. You notice, you care enough to stop him. Just like you’ll leave an empty space on the nearest desk for him to hop up on. He’s not sure if you realise you’re even doing it. Clearing perfect Spencer-sized spots at every precinct and office you’re set up in, because you know he prefers it to the chairs. Which makes his own actions feel a little less overt and, in turn, lets him breathe a sigh of relief. Maybe this is just what good friends do for each other. He can call you that, at least, if his own fears won’t afford him the chance to call you anything else.
Though, he’s not sure he could stop himself from taking care of you in his own way if he tried. Mostly because he’s not trying in the first place.
He didn’t even realise what he was doing, the first time he turned to you to double check your protective vest was secure. Narrow fingers tugging on straps, barely even processing the inviting warmth of you underneath them, he’d been too focused on making sure you were as protected as you could be. And then he’d walked into the Unsub’s home ahead of you anyway.
Spencer never walks ahead of you, anywhere. He’s always ushering you in first, something drilled into him by some unknown force, his basest of instincts - you’re ahead of him into the office, into precincts, into crime scenes, even into the elevator. But in a hostile situation? He’s first through the door every time.
So much so that it’s routine now, wherever the case, whoever is around. He grasps the shoulders of the thick vest and wiggles it, he rips the velcro straps off at your waist only to secure them again. A little tighter, and he’s quietly grateful that you let him. The heat of you at his back is reassuring when scenes aren’t secure. To know that, based on his experience anyway, the Unsub will more than likely jump out ahead of him - and he’ll be the one between you and the bullet. Which is maybe a little dramatic, but it’s the truth.
“Ready, boys?”
Doctor Spencer Reid has never claimed to believe in any god, but he makes sure to thank something for the interruption. Anything to get himself and his giant crush out from under Derek Morgan’s microscope.
It’s Emily who speaks, Emily who tosses protective vests at him and Derek, but Spencer’s eyes are focused on you entering the office behind her. You’re concentrating on your own vest, securing straps that’ll only be repositioned in a minute or two. But you still do it yourself each time, as if you’re not expecting him to come over and double check your work. There’s no way you haven’t noticed by now. That he’ll do it every time, that he doesn’t do it for anybody else, that he spends twice as long checking on your vest than he does securing his own. FBI emblem emblazoned on his chest, Spencer crosses the room dutifully to conduct his little ritual.
Velcro isn’t quiet. It pierces through the background noise when he undoes the buckle at your side and tears it free, but his eyes don’t move from the task at hand. Yours are heavy on his face, the way they always are when he gets this close. He pretends not to notice.
“Thank you.” You whisper softly. So softly that between the chatter and gun checking behind him, only the two of you can hear.
It’s only now, now he’s certain your vest is snug as possible, that he allows his careful gaze flicker to meet yours. He struggles not to take a step back with the force of it.
“Of course.” He replies, reluctantly pulling his cold fingers out from the warmth beneath the shoulders of your vest. His smile, small, self-conscious, is returned tenfold and beaming. The same way it always is. He doesn’t know how you do it - see the things you see every day and still manage a grin wider than the Río de la Plata. Maybe he can’t explain everything.
He catches a movement over your shoulder, it’s Morgan. Arms folded at the elbow, fists tucked close to his chest, as he makes the exaggerated movements of a chicken. Head bobbing and all. The teasing support, because that’s all it is, is nice to have - but there’s not one member of the team who understands exactly why he’s so afraid to say anything to you. In an ideal world, he wouldn’t be. He’d be able to pull you aside and tell you exactly how many days it’s been since he’d met you, started crushing on you, fallen absolutely hopelessly in love. It kind of all started at once, if he’s being completely honest. And in that ideal world, you would smile that billion kilowatt smile and tell him you love him too, and even the paperwork from the bureau wouldn’t matter. This isn’t an ideal world, however. He knows that better than most.
Spencer’s been rejected before, more than even he would care to admit, by friends and lovers and parents and colleagues and strangers. But he’s not sure he could take it from you, not while you hold his heart so tenderly in your hands. Even unaware of the responsibility, you’re gentle with him.
He’ll keep you close, regardless, as much as he can without arousing your suspicion. He’ll keep making space for you and double checking your vest until every ugly confession claws its way out of him.
That’s enough, for now.
if you’ve made it this far, pls know i am kissing u gently on the forehead🧡🧡
i’m also thinking about opening requests for all things pre-relationship spencer bc mutual pining and obliviousness is my fav fav fav thing, in case anyone was interested👀
832 notes
·
View notes
GC: 1 DONT SUPPOS3 1 COULD T4LK YOU 1NTO PUTT1NG H1M OUT OF H1S M1S3RY B4S3D ON TH3 R3SULT OF 4 CO1N FL1P >:D […]
TG: put your fucking death coin away jesus […]
GC: YOUR3 OV3R3ST1M4T1NG 1TS R3L3V4NC3 H3R3 4NYW4Y […]
GC: 4FT3R 1 FL1PP3D 1T, 1 D1DNT 3V3N LOOK 4T TH3 R3SULT!
As we've already covered, she didn't need a coin at all, because she wasn't the one splitting the timeline. Dave was the one tricked into splitting the timeline, and he did so by merely thinking about a coin.
I feel like I'm starting to understand the general idea of what it means to be a Seer of Mind, but I can't quite put it into words yet.
TG: i sent you the money i got all the fraymotifs tell me what is there thats left besides you jerking me around […]
GC: YOUV3 GOT SOM3 WORK TO DO, 1 C4N T4K3 4 H1NT 4ND G1V3 YOU SOM3 SP4C3 TO DO 1T >:]
GC: J4D3 1S GO1NG TO N33D YOUR H3LP ON H3R N1C3 FROST3D M4RSHM4LLOW PL4N3T
Hell yes!
Assuming Dave takes Terezi's advice - and assuming we don't get trolled, like we did when John and Rose met up - then Jade is about to meet another human for the first time in almost a decade.
...fuck. Jade hasn't seen another human in almost a decade. Sometimes I forget just how isolated she is.
TG: i still dont really get what you did
TG: was the trick really necessary
TG: it sounds like
TG: the splitoff was a result of both possible decisions i could have made
TG: and had fuckall to do with your coin or randomness or luck
GC: 3X4CTLY!!!
Fortune and luck are more Vriska's department. Terezi only ever pretends to use luck, tricking people into thinking she's playing a game of chance, when she's actually playing chess.
The coin never actually matters - and if she's convinced you that it does, she's already won.
286 notes
·
View notes
Ok so
There is this trope about ghosts not reaching maturity until they've been ghosts for several centuries
There is ALSO the trope that ghosts fight as a sort of way to communicate
With the power of these two tropes combined-- I give you this strange headcanon:
Ghosts become mature adult ghosts after 500 years.
Danny and his usual troublemakers are all in the same "daycare".
He's just the youngest + most unique ghost so they like playing around with him the most. In other words, it's the ghost version of older siblings ordering their younger siblings around
As far as ghosts go,
There are blobs, ghost animals, shades (those are ghosts as we know it) and ghosts (aka Infinite Realms Beings) etc etc
The blobs and etc are, well, blobs and etc
But ghosts need a while to fully grow up and be considered adult
And so, if these ghosts are children, they need guardians or caretakers at the daycare right?
Correct
Baby ghosts are under the care of the nearest authority (Ancient or Leader or etc etc)
Except baby ghosts usually stay near where they were born and Danny and Co just so happen to be near Pariah Dark
Pariah Dark is asleep
But Fright Knight is there!
Except Fright Knight is also sealed
And it's one thing to wake up the ultra powerful megalomaniac tyrant kinda parent figure but not really you're supposed to have and another to drag your oldest adult sibling out of their room to touch grass
In other words, the surrounding authorities just went eh the babies can contact fright Knight if anything happens
But then Danny defeats Pariah and inherits his authority
So he technically becomes the caretaker of baby ghosts in the area while being the youngest baby ghost himself
Hence the other ancients visiting and *playing* with him to see if it's ok to leave the babies with this other baby
And since they're ghosts who don't have human guidelines or morals, decide that since he's that strong it should be fine to leave it alone
Besides he has Fright Knight! Good 'ol Frighty will definitely help out this new baby kid ghost with doing everything!
Meanwhile, Fright Knight waiting for Danny to come claim the crown and ring: ...
Cue Danny's rogues coming up to him to show him shit they accomplished
Youngblood : Phantom look at this cool baking soda volcano that spews out real lava!!
Danny: It does WHAT
Youngblood: Look!
Danny: NO
Ember: Hey Babybop wanna listen to the new song I wrote? It compels humans to start cults based on my name!
Danny: Ember, no
Ember: I think you mean Ember YES
Skulker: Ghost boy I have skinned an alien and brought you a pelt turned into a coat
Danny: ...you did WHAt
Skulker: It is nearing winter time and one must always be ready for winter time
Danny, having an existential meltdown after seeing his parents and Vlad get it on together: Desiree what the actual fuck??? Did you do????
Desiree: I merely fulfilled a wish
Johnny: Hey Phantom look we got matching tattoos to celebrate our anniversary!
Kitty: Wait what did you just say?
Johnny: uh, we got tattoos for our anniversary?
Kitty: ...our anniversary is in TWO MONTHS. THAT was for my DEATHDAY.
Johnny: ...oh shit
Danny, about to soup them both: Man, get good
Lunch Lady: Phantom have you eaten your proteins today?!
Danny: uh... Yeah?
Lunch Lady, already throwing meat at him: EAT MORE
Danny:
Box ghost: WITNESS! THE GREAT BOX MECHA!
Danny: oh come on seriously
And on the other hand,
Walker, dumping ten piles of paper in Danny's room: Phantom, here are the latest forms that need revisions
Spectra: What do you MEAN you're not allowing me to open a beauty salon in order to dig into other girls' insecurities and maintain my own beauty?! That's why it's called a beauty salon!!
Cujo and Wulf who are both the best boys and favorites, with smug faces:
Fright Knight still waiting for Danny to accept the ring and crown:
Plasmius: What the heck is this weird feeling my ghost side keeps making me feel??
Plasmius: is it... Is there perhaps a ghostly way I can adopt the little badger??
369 notes
·
View notes