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darkmatilda · 1 month ago

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𝐬𝐞𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 | 𝐬.𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: after prentiss leaves, someone has to take care of her cat. you decide to share the responsibility between the two of you, leading the people around you to some strange conclusions.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐭𝐰: spencer reid x diva!chemist reader, mini absurd arguments, spencer texting her at 3 a.m. just to infodump about cats (theyre too sweet i cant), theyre completely in their parents era, proof that my sense of humor is silly, diva pov in the final scene!

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 2.3k

𝐚/𝐧: this idea was suggested to me in a comment when i asked for fic ideas for the marathon—basically i think two people mentioned something about the return of that little kitten 🫶🏼

marathon masterlist

“Are you sure you’ve got everything?” she asked, turning her head toward him.

Reid, sitting in the passenger seat of her car (her wonderful car…), sighed and closed his eyes.

“You should’ve asked me that when we were still at my apartment,” he muttered. “Then I could have checked. But I’m pretty sure I’ve got everything—like the litter box, the food…”

“A silk pillow?”

“Since when do cats need silk pillows?”

“Well, maybe other cats don’t, but mine does. The delicate fabric is the best for her fur.”

“And she’s still going to sleep on the shelf in the bathroom. Or the fridge. Anywhere but there. It’s a cat.”

She hesitated for a moment, but decided not to push. A brief explanation of what it was actually about—a while ago, they had both saved a kitten they found on the street. Neither of them had the time or the means to care for it, so it ended up in good hands with Emily. But when Prentiss accepted the job at Interpol and moved to London, it became necessary for someone else to take care of the kitten. Her second cat, Sergio, was taken in by Penelope, but she couldn’t adopt both, so they came up with the idea of sharing the responsibility.

This meant the cat would spend a few days with Reid and a few days with her, depending on their plans, schedules, and simply the time they had. It was a fairly new arrangement, so Spencer was about to take the cat in for the first time, and he felt as though it was much more serious than it really was.

After the first night, she literally came over in the morning to check if all her precious one's needs had been met and if she was well cared for. As it turned out, of course, everything was fine, and since she was already there, they went to work together.

“By the way,” she began, just as Reid reached for the car door (her wonderful car…!), which made him turn back toward her, hand paused midair. “I’m not convinced about that food Prentiss was giving her.”

Spencer barely held back an eye roll. Most of her concerns (and there were a lot of them) were entirely unfounded.

“It was fine. The vet recommended it himself.”

“But it didn’t look very good.”

“That’s because it’s cat food. It’d be weird if you thought it looked appetizing.”

“We’ll come back to that. Last thing—I had a few things delivered to your place…”

“To my place?”

“Yep. A harness, a leash, a bowl…”

“She already has a harness and leash. And I have bowls at my apartment…”

“Yeah, but these are nicer. Red with gold accents. They’ll match her black fur.”

“I’m genuinely starting to worry about you.”

“Why? Is it so wrong that I don’t want my baby getting laughed at by the other kids for wearing outdated clothes?”

“She’s a cat. Cats don’t laugh at each other for wearing outdated clothes. That kind of mean behavior is strictly human.”

“Say what you want, but I saw those judgmental looks last time I took her out for a walk.”

“You should be teaching your child that her worth isn’t tied to clothes or material things.”

“She knows that. And soon she’ll also learn that her father’s a cheapskate who doesn’t want her to have cool accessories.”

Spencer ended the conversation with a wave of his hand, deciding the level of absurdity had officially gone too far.

“We’re about to be late,” he pointed out, glancing at his watch.

She gave him a wounded look, as if time were a concept he’d personally invented just to get rid of her. Still, the fact remained—they really were about to be late.

They stepped out of her car (her wonderful... ha! Not this time) (...her wonderful car...) and almost immediately ran into Morgan’s surprised stare.

His takeaway coffee cup froze halfway to his lips.

“Since when do you two show up to work together?”

They exchanged a glance. Spencer’s was mildly awkward; hers was completely unfazed.

“Good morning, Morgan. Nice to see you too. That’s usually how these things start,” she replied in a lecturing tone, to which their friend only rolled his eyes.

“Good morning and all that. So?”

Spencer decided to step in, offering his own explanation—he wanted everything to be clear, no misunderstandings, and most importantly, no two weeks of Morgan shooting him those suggestive looks from beneath raised eyebrows.

“She was already leaving my apartment this morning, so we figured we’d just come in together,” he said plainly.

Morgan did exactly what Spencer had hoped to avoid—he shot him a suggestive look from beneath raised eyebrows.

She, too, fixed her gaze on him, the corner of her mouth curling with mild pity.

“Leaving each other’s apartments in the morning…I’ve gotta say, you two surprise me, but I can’t say it’s unexpected,” Derek commented, completely ignoring Reid’s emphatic head-shaking.

Before he could get another word out, he was silenced with a wave of her hand.

“Better not make it worse,” she told him, then sighed and turned to Morgan. “We just have a baby together.”

Spencer stared at her, wide-eyed.

“And I’m the one making it worse?”

Morgan shook his head at them with a small smile and simply walked off, calmly sipping his coffee.

Naturally, Spencer hurried after him.

“A cat! We have a cat together…!”

Spencer barely noticed Hotch’s arrival or the fact that the whole team had gathered—he was far too absorbed in the book he was reading.

Alex had been a little surprised by his choice of subject, but he’d explained that lately, he’d been reading a lot about cats. That was just the way he was. He felt a constant need to expand his knowledge, especially in areas that directly affected his daily life.

It had been two weeks since they’d taken the cat in together, and while he had grown used to the added presence in his apartment on certain days, he was still learning fascinating things about these creatures—either from personal experience or through books and articles.

Whenever he came across something particularly interesting, he made a mental note of it to share with her later. That is, with his colleague in shared cat ownership. In shared responsibility for Marie. Since they were doing this together, they needed to be equally educated.

And since there was quite a lot to learn, he eventually started texting her things like:

The claws on a cat’s back paws aren’t as sharp as the claws on the front paws because the back ones don’t retract and, as a result, get worn down.

To which he would receive replies like (which gave him a strange internal delight he would never admit out loud):

really?? going to check wait

Only for five minutes to pass in silence—until a new message popped up:

can’t check, she’s sleeping. you should be too, it’s 3 a.m

Spencer mentally bookmarked the exact page and line where he’d left off so he could return to it later.

In the meantime, Penelope stood before the team, remote in hand, ready to brief them on their next case. But before she could say a word, someone else walked into the room—despite the fact that the whole team was already there.

Funny. He’d just been thinking about her.

“I looked into what you asked me about,” she said, her eyes focused solely on Garcia, not sparing even a passing glance in his direction.

Not that it was particularly strange. Even though they hadn’t seen each other yet that day. It’s not like he always looked for her face first, in every room he happened to walk into.

In any case, she handed Penelope a few papers.

“I adore you, I swear,” Penelope gushed, accepting the papers with heartfelt gratitude.

“I know you do. Oh—and I know you didn’t ask for this, but I figured it was worth looking into, and I actually found something interesting. Take a look…”

She launched into something connected to their new case. Reid reached for the case files, flipping through them quickly to catch up with what she was referencing.

His gaze moved in a steady rhythm—from her face, to the page he was reading, and back again—following the cadence of her voice.

At one point, she caught the look he gave her and tilted her head slightly, a thoughtful expression forming on her face. She didn’t say anything, just kept talking about the case, and their eyes didn’t meet again until she was already at the door.

With one finger raised, she spun on her heel, as if something had just occurred to her. That finger landed squarely on him.

Curious about what she was about to say, Reid straightened in his seat. And then…

“I hope you remember the castration appointment. Six o’clock. You better be there early,” she said briskly before walking out of the room.

Every gaze in the room—unified like a single entity—turned toward his now unnecessarily upright figure.

Spencer’s fingers fidgeted with the papers in his hands, one drifting to his mouth as he cleared his throat.

“We…have a cat now…”

You stirred your coffee absentmindedly, eyes never leaving the test results spread out in front of you. Someone appeared at your side, and you knew exactly who it was—even without turning your head.

Over time, you had learned to recognize the people who regularly stepped into your lab—their footsteps, the way they moved, even the sound of their breathing.

This one was new. Quiet, almost shy. He’d only just joined your team, and he was young, with those perpetually shadowed eyes that always seemed to drift around the room in a distant sort of way. Judging by those eyes alone, one could assume he was constantly contemplating the essence of human suffering—and quietly mourning all eight billion souls, one by one.

But truthfully, he had the makings of a brilliant chemist. All he needed was a little more confidence.

“Um, you wanted to see me,” he reported, hands clasped behind his back. Or at least, that’s what you assumed he was saying—he usually stood like that until your stare reminded him he looked like a lost calf, and then he’d shift his posture in embarrassment.

“Indeed. Take these to Dr. Reid.”

You handed him the analyzed results, and he gave a simple nod. He returned ten minutes later, once again taking his place silently by your side, waiting to be noticed.

By then, you were already done with your coffee, fully immersed in your work, and you gave him only a brief nod—enough of a signal that he, too, should get back to it.

“Dr. Reid asked me to tell you…” Winchester began, looking even more awkward than usual. “That unfortunately, he won’t be able to take Marie this weekend.”

You sighed in frustration, and he nearly jumped, thinking it was directed at him.

“We agreed to take turns looking after her every weekend. Does he really have to change it at the last minute?” you muttered under your breath, mentally noting to call him and yell — just on principle. Because honestly, nothing was stopping you from taking the cat for the weekend.

But doing it this way was just more fun.

Winchester nodded and started assisting you with your work, occasionally swallowing nervously, as if trying to find a topic of conversation.

He seemed to live under the impression that whenever you were silent, you were probably planning to destroy the galaxy you all lived in — so he always tried to make awkward small talk, which, truth be told, he had no real desire for as a self-declared introvert.

“So…” he began hesitantly. “Her name is Marie? Is that after…?”

“Marie Skłodowska Curie? That’s right, point for you,” you replied, pausing for a moment as something crossed your mind, making the corners of your lips curl up unintentionally. “Although, at first, it was Albert. We thought she was a male. Blame Spencer and his bad vision,” you snorted.

Winchester looked genuinely shocked.

“How...how could you...what about the doctors?” he stammered, still trying to process the situation.

“What's wrong with them?”

“Didn't they tell you that you...have a beautiful little girl?”

“They did. But we thought it was a boy at first.”

“O-okay,” he muttered, suddenly opening his mouth like he had just realized something. “Oh, okay, now I get it. And, well, I admire you. A home birth must’ve been…tough.”

Only then did you look up at him, raising an eyebrow. He looked like he deeply regretted not keeping his mouth shut, but at the same time, had no idea where he had gone wrong. He scratched his head.

“Sorry if that's a sensitive topic.”

“Our cat would be a sensitive topic?” you asked, trying to hide your amusement because the sheer panic on his face was almost comical. It was reminiscent of Reid’s mortified expression when he tried desperately to conceal that something you did or showed him embarrassed him—though his cheeks gave him away.

“Your…your...I thought...I thought Marie was your and Doctor Reid’s child,” he stuttered, panicking. “And that...I don’t know, you’re divorced or something...should I just shut up now?”

You stared at him for a moment, as if he were battling with himself to close his eyes, as if that would make him disappear.

“Yeah, that’d be probably the best best”

Lmaoo Winchester = Whitaker from the pitt this is exactly what I had in mind while writing

#criminal minds #spencer reid criminal minds #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #doctor spencer reid #criminal minds fic #diva reader ♱#diva reader marathon 💄

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darkmatilda · 1 month ago

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𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐝𝐢𝐯𝐚? | 𝐬.𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: in which one alcohol consumption and (to a greater or lesser extent) someone’s pretty eyes loosen your tongue and lead to a full-blown lecture on what you find most arousing about spencer reid.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐭𝐰: spencer reid x diva!chemist reader, alcohol consumption, reader doesn’t know the meaning of shame (but we all knew that already) reader is clingy

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 2.4k

𝐚/𝐧: a combination of two requests <3 marathon masterlist

“...And then Reid said—” Morgan paused to take a sip of wine, the glass briefly hiding the smirk spreading across his lips. “This is calm. And it’s doctor.”

The intensity of the laughter that followed depended mostly on how drunk each person was. And considering the party was at Penelope’s—who always made sure her guests’ glasses were never empty—well, things got loud fast. For the past fifteen minutes or so, everyone had been racing down the wild slope known as remember when, with them constantly adding more and more stories, making it nearly impossible to stop.

That evening, Spencer—abstaining from alcohol—was quietly absorbing secondhand embarrassment on behalf of each of his friends, one by one. They were recounting stories about each other almost in rapid succession, and it was clear the spotlight was slowly shifting toward him. So he took advantage of his sober, high-functioning mind and made the reasonable decision to execute a tactical retreat. A moment to recharge his social batteries. Maybe he could track down Sergio, currently under Garcia’s care.

He had barely managed to sit down on the living room couch when something dropped onto his lap—and it wasn’t the familiar black cat. It was a head. But don’t go imagining any gory scenes—what happened was simple while he had settled into the corner, someone else had sprawled out along the full length of the couch, one leg bent at the knee, a hand loosely suspended in the air, and the back of their head now treating his lap like a pillow.

Completely caught off guard by this sudden, um, closeness—Spencer, who hadn’t even had the chance to properly settle into his spot yet—froze entirely. Contributing to his paralysis was the sound the woman suddenly made. A simple, melodic, not-at-all-mocking giggle.

“This is calm, and it’s doctor,” she repeated the story she’d just heard, tilting her head in an exaggeratedly playful way so she could lock eyes with him.

A small reminder—the head and neck of an adult human make up about 9% of the body. Nine percent of her was currently resting on his lap.

Confused, Spencer furrowed his brow, not understanding why she was quoting those words. Knowing her, he might’ve assumed it was to tease him—but her tone, along with the gentle curve of her lips, didn’t suggest mockery at all.

Suspicious.

She broke eye contact to stare up at the ceiling instead, shifting the rest of her body into a more comfortable position on the couch. She was drunk, and it showed. He’d never seen her like this before—during outings to, say, a club, she drank responsibly (thankfully), and it rarely showed on her at all. Apparently, a party at Penelope’s followed different rules.

She suddenly sighed—but it wasn’t a deep, unhappy gulp of air. It was more of a sound with a dreamy undertone. She gave a slight shake of her head from side to side.

“I love it when you act like a total diva,” she confessed.

He was sure he’d misheard her. He glanced briefly toward where the rest of the team was still chatting away—apparently too caught up to notice the two of them had slipped away.

“When I act like…who?”

She sighed again, but this time it wasn’t that pleasant sound from before. It was more impatient, as if she couldn’t believe he didn’t know something so obvious.

“Like a total diva. Sassy queen. Confident…what’s the opposite of a girl?”

He was getting lost in her drunken train of thought.

“Boy?” he suggested.

“Exactly, like a confident girl,” she muttered under her breath. She clasped her hands over her stomach, catching his gaze again. For her to do that, Reid had to lower his head, and the thought crossed his mind that he probably looked really unflattering from her angle.

Her mood was more than a little changeable—suddenly, she let out a groan of frustration, giving him no time to say anything.

“You’re a smart guy, Spencer Reid.”

The combination of slurred speech and unexpected seriousness left him unsure whether to take it as a compliment, a threat, or a prophecy. It also made it difficult to come up with a proper response, so he simply chose to watch her in silence—every shifting expression that drunkenly passed over her pretty face.

“Sometimes you just effortlessly shut down people who really, really deserve it, and it’s so…” she shook her head from side to side.

He was still lost, unable to pin down what exactly she meant. He swallowed and quickly asked:

“So…what?”

“I don’t know, attractive?” she mused, locking eyes with him again. For a moment, neither of them said a word. She was so close that he had to concentrate on keeping his breathing steady—there wasn’t much air in the stuffy apartment, and he didn’t want her to misunderstand and make some snarky comment.

“It’s one of the things I find hot about you.”

He forgot all about his resolution to keep his breathing steady and, thrown off balance, simply held it. But only for a second—because then the truth hit him square in the face.

She was drunk.

She was talking nonsense.

There was even a chance she thought she was talking to someone else.

So he decided to take it with a grain of salt. Not dismiss it entirely—absolutely not—after all, drunk or not, she was still the woman currently lying across his lap (in nine percent of her) (shut up, pragmatism), openly suggesting—okay, saying it outright, with all the subtlety of an elephant doing ballet—that there was something about him that was…hot.

Believe it or not, that wasn’t something that happened to him on a daily basis.

That’s why he couldn’t help himself—he had to pull her tongue a little more. He swallowed with surprising difficulty.

“Things you find hot”

“Yeah.”

“About me.”

“Mhm.”

“One of the things.”

“What?”

“You used the plural, which was either a slip of the tongue or a suggestion that there’s more. You know, grammar.” Oh no, he was starting his usual nervous rambling.

He looked at her uncertainly, ready to be met with some biting comment—but even though he expected it, it never came. Instead, she let out a gentle laugh.

“You’re funny,” she stated. He glanced at her stomach, at her hands folded there—she suddenly bent one finger, as if listing things.

“Usually not on purpose, but that’s just a side note. Oh, and I like that vest you’re wearing right now. The fabric’s nice. Also, the color matches your shirt.”

The topic of clothes completely took over her drunk mind for a while, and she started complaining to him about how her new shoes had recently given her blisters. Meanwhile, her bored hands found a new occupation—playing with, as she put it, the nice fabric of his vest.

She tugged on it harder, mumbling something under her breath.

He let out a questioning hum.

“I’d take you home with me,” she said louder in a thoughtful tone.

Not a flirty one, as one might expect—but surprisingly matter-of-fact, the way you’d declare something simple and true.

And maybe that was what made his mind shut off for a second, when he realized she wasn’t saying it just to embarrass him for her own amusement.

And if that wasn’t her intention,

then there was a chance

she actually

meant it.

Unbothered—which couldn’t be said about him—she held his gaze. The difficulty swallowing returned, so he simply decided not to do it, not until his throat had gone dry.

“If I had met you somewhere,” she added. Not as a correction, but as a continuation of her original thought, an expansion. But it was unnecessary—if he’d seen that in an essay, he’d have marked it as a poor attempt to tack on a few extra words. He knew exactly what she meant without it. That 187 IQ had to be good for something. Watching his reaction, she dropped her inquisitive look, amusement flashing in her eyes. And him. Spencer reflected in her eyes, allowing him to catch the pathetically confused but also yearning expression on his face—and try to get rid of it. “Would you have let me take you home?”

He felt like the space around them was just refusing to cooperate. Like every single molecule of oxygen had a pair of tiny, nosy eyes focused solely on him, giggling behind his back at how he couldn't manage to come up with a response.

And he was searching—desperately—for something. Preferably something dismissive, totally off-topic, confusing enough to mess with her tipsy brain so she’d forget what she even asked in the first place.

But it didn’t look like she was going to forget.

Her tone shifted. Where it hadn’t been flirty before, it now dropped lower, quieter, with a kind of muttered edge hanging off the end of every word.

Reid pressed his back against the couch, forcing himself to look at the wall across from him. The TV in Garcia’s apartment was on, but muted — not that he’d noticed. The only thing reaching his ears clearly was her voice, quiet in comparison to the laughter and chatter of their friends — and his own.

Though his own voice sounded strangely muffled to him, like it was coming from behind a wall.

Paraphrasing her own question, she was wondering if he’d let her drag him home with her if they met somewhere random — total strangers — maybe after slipping into one of those surprisingly decent conversations they sometimes, occasionally, managed to have.

Not an unrealistic scenario, actually.

God, what was he even thinking — that was literally how they’d met.

So no, he couldn’t say no with a hand on his heart. Not that his hand was anywhere near his heart at the moment — for more reasons than just old memories. Because the thing was, Spencer Reid, abstinent by choice, was slightly tipsy—even though that glass, filled with nothing but juice, hadn’t touched his lips once.

Zero alcohol in his bloodstream, and yet his head was buzzing just a little, the room swaying faintly with every not-so-rare blink when he looked at her. A buzz making it hard to think, harder still to come up with some clever excuse to dodge the question.

Her lazy gaze still lingering on his face.

Well.

At best, he could just admit the truth—but only after forcing himself to snap out of the haze and exhale.

“No.”

He dropped his gaze back to her face, pulling it away from the muted flicker of the TV screen. He expected…he didn’t know what he expected. Maybe a doubtful raise of her eyebrows, that confident little smirk curling on her lips, like she was about to murmur something just to tease him a bit more.

But her expression hadn’t changed. It was unreadable.

“Why not?” she asked, in a tone that wasn’t just curious—it demanded an answer.

Spencer blinked sharply—the bluntness of her question hit him square between the eyes, snapping him out of it just a bit. Why not? That was easy. To him, personally, it was obvious.

He gave a small shake of his head, a barely-there shrug.

“‘Cause you’re very, very drunk,” he said. Her confused frown appeared instantly—so much for being unreadable. He let out a quiet snort. “And I’m very sober.”

“And what if you had a few drinks?” she asked, even before he could the last syllable of his last word

Spencer’s mouth fell open slightly, and she gave him a faint smile. Was she really going to make him go through every single possible scenario—literally every one—before he finally sighed and admitted yes, in these specific circumstances, the ones you just laid out, I’d go to bed with you?

He tilted his head back in defeat, the top of his head resting against the back of the couch.

"Maybe," he muttered, with no intention of further explaining, though he wasn’t sure what he’d do if she kept pressing.

He didn’t look at her, but he could hear her snicker. After a prolonged four seconds of silence between them, he straightened up with a hiss. She poked him in the ribs.

"What about a drink?"

Her head lifted from his lap but stayed hovering above it as she casually leaned on the couch, slightly lifting her torso. Spencer tilted his head, watching her, still feeling the slight sting from that finger jab. She tilted her head too, signaling that she was just kidding. Or at least that’s what he assumed.

A minute of eye contact passed, before Reid rolled his eyes.

“You’ve probably had enough drinks already,” he muttered.

She shrugged slowly, then flopped back onto her pillow. This time, though, she turned onto her side, her hair spilling over part of her face.

He spent a moment just looking at her face—eyelids drifting shut—himself oddly relaxed, hands loosely folded over his chest. He stood by his earlier assessment—she’d had enough to drink.

He wondered what their next conversation would be like once she sobered up.

If he were in her place, he’d probably turn into a blushing mess or flee the country altogether—maybe take a job somewhere in the Arctic Circle where she’d never find him.

But that was him.

They’d probably just move on like nothing happened. Maybe she wouldn’t remember some of the details. Like how he’d hesitated before reaching out and awkwardly tucked the hair away from her face, behind her ear.

“If you’re not feeling great,” he started, voice barely above a whisper, “Penelope won’t mind if you lie down in her bed for a bit. Might do you some good.”

For a moment she didn’t answer, and with her eyes closed, he figured she’d fallen asleep.

He was bracing for a sigh, already resigning himself to the fact he wouldn’t be able to get up until she woke.

Then suddenly, one eye popped open—almost accusatory.

“You kicking me out?” she asked.

He rolled his eyes up to the ceiling for the umpteenth time during this conversation, though with a small smile drifting on his lips.

“How could I possibly,” he sighed.

“Better for you.”

“Certainly.”

For comfort, she tucked her legs under herself, also adjusting the position of her cheek. He let her nap like that until the rest of the team showed up in the living room. Then he sat up straighter and…still let her stay exactly as she was, because everyone else was too drunk and too amused with themselves to notice or care.

He did stop twirling the ends of her hair between his fingers, though — that might’ve looked a bit strange.

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spence reid #spencer reid x reader #diva reader ♱#diva universe ♛#spencer reid criminal minds #doctor spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #dr spencer reid #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #diva reader marathon 💄

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