yourlocalravendork

[yourlocalravendork]

Rule 8~ Get a kick ass partner

AN: Hey y'all, I'm still alive. I'm going through that awkward phase of writing, writers block, hence why I haven't posted a fic in months. So here's a fic to apologise for going MIA for a little while. It's a Zombie land AU since Zombie land is one of my comfort films however you don't need to have seen the film to understand it. And hey, who knows, this might spark that creative phase back and maybe even turn into a series. CW: Zombies, guns, early seasons Spencer my beloved, descriptions of decaying and mutilated flesh, injury detail

Spencer Reid had rules. He had many rules, so obscure and pointless that one may think that he had OCD. He had to wash his hands after touching someone otherwise he was going to die of some horrible disease, he had to have his lucky book in his bag or the whole day would be thrown off, small things like that. Only, when the apocalypse happened, his rules weren't so pointless anymore. Sure, they had to adapt but some stayed the same, like his third rule, beware of bathrooms; only now it was less worry about pathogens, and more worry about the undead. Yeah, that was a fright for the genius when he went to the loo, only to find a flesh eating zombie trying to crawl under the stall to eat his brains.

He could remember vividly the day he first encountered a zombie. He was in Los Angeles after a case when the outbreak started and a young, rising actress knocked frantically on his hotel room door, and boy was she pretty. While Spencer was a genius, he was also just a man. So when a pretty lady knocks on his hotel room, begging for help? Well, he was a gentleman after all. What he forgot to consider was why this woman was running into his hotel room.

"Thank you, thank you so much," the woman panted, "I would've been a goner." Spencer couldn't speak. He was taking a moment to just watch her. Pretty ladies like that didn't normally talk to Spencer, hence why he was just staring at her with awe. "Yeah, no problem," Spencer stuttered out, snapping himself out of the day dream. "God, some people are just freaks," the actress complained, leaning against the kitchenette, trying to catch her breath, "I mean, I get it, I'd chase after me too, I am Lila Archer after all. But biting? Biting is just too far." Biting? Oh shit. Yeah, that definitely snapped Spencer out of his thoughts. He just let a potentially infected woman into his hotel room. As Lila leaned against the kitchenette, Spencer saw it and his eyes widened. On her left bicep was a bite mark, still covered in saliva. However, instead of a red mark, it was green with hints of purple. Small chunks of flesh, the size of teeth, were missing and that was when Spencer realised why no one else was letting her in. "The inside of the mouth is more bacteria filled than the floor, so yeah, the idea of being bitten by a stranger is disgusting. How about you take a shower, you know, help get rid of the bacteria," Spencer suggested. If he could get her in the bathroom, at least maybe he'd be able to contain her.

His plan worked.

For about twelve hours. Just as he was getting ready for bed, he heard a noise from the bathroom. "Lila, you alright in there?" he called out, trying to keep his voice even. He didn't get a response. At least, not an intelligible one. Despite Spencer's sheer intellectual capability, in a moment that could only be described as pure stupidity, he leaned his head against the door to see if he could hear anything. A hand shot through the door, breaking the wood and Spencer let out a squeal that sounded more like a nine year old girl than a twenty four year old man.

Jumping back from the door, he ran towards his nightstand and grabbed his badge and fun before bolting out of the hotel. It was the last place he wanted to be in at the moment. In hindsight, it was a pretty stupid move. His team were in that hotel and he just bolted away from them. He was on his own. But that was a thought to haunt him at a later date. Right now, he was too busy running as far away from the outbreak as possible. This was where he found his first new rule, Cardio. The zombie apocalypse was not forgiving for skinny nerds like Spencer. If he wanted to survive out here, he needed to work on his cardio. As soon as he exited the hotel, he got in the first car he could find. An FBI agent committing grand theft auto, Spencer would've laughed at the irony if there weren't brain eating, decaying, reanimated corpses wandering the city.

Spencer needed a plan. However, how could one plan for a zombie apocalypse? Not even the most well prepared individuals like Spencer could plan for something like this. That realisation hit him the same time he realised that he was utterly screwed. He had no food or water and he doubted the local 7/11s would be open. He also had limited ammunition and a revolver. If he wanted to survive then he'd need to be better prepared. So he decided that he'd try and get to Vegas. Born and raised there, at least he knew his way around there.

The drive was horrifying. Usually, Spencer hated driving. Spencer especially hated driving in an apocalypse. As he was trying to get out of LA, he saw someone else trying to do the same. Only difference between the two of them? Spencer was wearing a seat belt. And thank god he was wearing a seat belt. When the car next to him had to break quickly to try and swerve out of the way of a zombie, they went flying through the windscreen. Blood coated the glass fragments and now the zombies had a tasty snack. His fourth rule was still very applicable for an apocalypse: wear a seatbelt.

After driving for a while, Spencer found a deserted service station. He needed a break from driving and he figured he could use the supplies. So he pulled into the car park and made sure his revolver was loaded before heading in.

It was eerily quiet. Not even the cheesy cover music was playing on the speaker. It was, for lack of a better word, dead. That just crept Spencer out. Silently and slowly, Spencer wandered down the aisles, grabbing a few essentials: water, snacks, a first aid kit, a lighter with a few cans of aerosols to make a flamethrower if worse came to worse and he also grabbed a bottle of hand sanitiser - old habits died hard. Spencer had grown so accustomed to the silence, he didn't even notice the shuffling of another entity in the service station. He figured he was hearing things. So when he turned around to be face to face with a zombie, he was frozen with fear. He hardly had time to react when he heard a loud bang and then he was covered in blood. For a few more moments, he just stood there, covered in blood from head to toe.

"You're welcome," he heard a voice. He couldn't see, the blood covered his glasses. The voice snapped him out of his thoughts and he pulled his glasses off, wiping them in his bloody sweater vest. He looked up and saw you stood there with a smoking shotgun. You stood with an air of nonchalance, as if you hadn't blown the brains out of a zombie and saved his life. Before Spencer had a chance to thank you, you pulled out a pistol and another shot rang out through the empty service station. "Gotta double tap, make sure they're actually dead," you explained as if it was common knowledge. Spencer wasn't sure why the zombie wouldn't be dead, especially looking at the state of it. The flesh was already peeling off the body, revealing bones and muscles that were green with some kind of infection and where the head used to be was jaggerer pieces of decaying flesh, a broken neck bone and blood. A lot of it. However, Spencer did make a note of what you said. That would be rule number two. Instead of double washing his hands, he'd have to double shoot things to make sure they were dead. "That all you got?" you asked, eyeing his revolver. Spencer could already see the judgmental look in your eyes. He was already aware of how under prepared he was, he didn't need your criticism too.

"Yeah," Spencer nodded, still in a little bit of shock from the near death experience. "God, you're screwed." Spencer was already mentally profiling you. Guarded, blunt, and (more of a personal opinion than a professional observation) kick ass. He could do with someone like you to survive in the new reality. "Can you help me?" he asked, the words fleeing from his mouth before he had a chance to think about them. A soft laugh escaped your lips as he looked like a lost puppy. You thought about it for a second. Spencer wouldn't last a second with brains alone, he needed the strength, the athleticism. So what was the harm in helping him? Besides, at least you'd have some company. "Why the hell not," you shrugged, "Grab what you need and meet me back outside."

So Spencer did. He wished he had a spare pair of clothes, but the blood stained look was here to stay for now.

"Where you heading?" you asked as he climbed into your truck. "Las Vegas," Spencer managed, trying to not look at the arsenal of weapons in the back seat. You were definitely more prepared than he was. "Vegas it is. Me? I'm heading towards Orlando. That's what you can call me, Orlando. Understand, Vegas?" Spencer wanted to protest, tell you that he had a name and that name was not Vegas. However, with all the weaponry in the car, he was a little worried about arguing. So Vegas it was. "Yeah, I understand," Spencer nodded. "Alright, then strap in, Vegas. We're in for one hell of a ride."

[yourlocalravendork]

Out shopping today and I saw this. Immediately looked at it and thought of Five Hargreeves.

[yourlocalravendork]

✭Garcia and Morgan's matchmaking service✭

Spencer x Fem!reader

AN: This is my entry for @imagining-in-the-margins undercover challenge. It is also another story in the accidental date series (this is the only one with a Fem! Reader, the rest are gn) however can be read as a one shot and is loosely inspired by the episode Snake Eyes because gambler Reid, need I say more? I definitely got a bit carried away writing so it's a long one.

Part 1 2 3

CW: mentions of gambling, heavy themes of religion, cannon typical violence, autistic coded Spencer (because I headcanon him as on the spectrum)

Promt: “I’m just acting.” / “Oh? So you can make your heart race on command?”

It started as an isolated incident, as all killings did. A call girl and a gambler dead in a hotel over in Palm Springs, California. The girl was laid out on the bed, blankets as makeshift wings and arms crossed over her front. The gambler? A bloody pile of limbs with the words 'Temptation' scored into his arm. Then again, only in a different hotel. And again. And by the fourth victim, the BAU was called in.

"Here's the rundown my crime fighting cuties," Penelope said, bringing up the photos of the latest victims, "Henry Heart and Vanessa Anderson were found dead in Henry's hotel room in Palm Springs." With a press of a button, the screen changed. Gone were the victim's smiling faces, replaced with the gory scene of the crime. This was the usual for you. Gory scenes and the darkest corners of the human psyche. "And the cherry on this disgusting cake is the fact that this has happened to six other people, all in the same set up. A call girl and a gambler. The girls all laid to rest, the men with 'Temptation' carved in their arm. All kinds of yuck," Penelope said with a small shiver. "The women being laid to rest could be a sign of remorse," Derek offered. Spencer went to open his mouth to talk but you were one step ahead of him. "The blankets almost look like angel wings, that could be symbolic of the unsub thinking they were pure, hence the men being labeled as temptations." Spencer couldn't help but smile like a lovesick fool as you spoke. Of course, he always appreciated your inputs, but after the past few months, he found himself appreciating them more, watching the way your lips moved to form words. "But they weren't exactly pure," Emily countered, "They were call girls. I don't know about you, but that profession isn't exactly the most pure out there." "We could be looking at a woman unsub. Seeing the women as victims of circumstance and blaming the men for them being in that position," JJ shrugged. "Whatever it is, we need to get to California. Wheels up in 30," Hotch said, dismissing the room.

Spencer was hobbling back to his desk, still on crutches from his gunshot injury. His physio therapist said he was getting on well. So well that he was allowed back on the jet. Sure, he wasn't involved in any of the take downs, but at least he could work in the local PD. "Hey, Spence," you smiled, catching up to him, "You need a hand with your to go bag?" What the two of you had, Spencer wasn't entirely sure what it was. You'd been on two dates, well one official and one accidental, yet neither of you had really talked about the feelings that were there for each other. "Uh, yeah, that would help… That would help a lot," Spencer said, trying not to stutter and stumble over his words. Another soft smile directed to Spencer from you. One more and Spencer was sure he'd go into cardiac arrest. "It's just under my desk," Spencer pointed with his crutch. As you bent down to grab it, Spencer awkwardly averted his gaze. He didn't say it so he could see that. Truthfully, if he was thinking it through, he would've insisted that he could've done it. But it was that damn smile of yours. You grabbed it and sprung back up with a smile. "Ready to go?" you asked, completely oblivious to the effect you had on him. "Y… Yeah," he nodded, his Adam's apple bobbing.

"Casinos, huh, pretty boy will be right at home then," Derek teased once they were in the air. This was inevitable. It seemed every case that involved gambling, casinos or Vegas, Spencer would be subjected to the teasings of his coworkers. He'd grow accustomed to it now. "Very funny, Morgan," Spencer rolled his eyes. Before Derek had a chance to reply, Hotch's usual authoritve tone cut across the jet cabin. "Reid might prove to be a valuable asset in this case." "Right my fine feathered friends," Garcia's voice filled the speakers, "I have sent everything I have found on your victims to your tablets. We have our Henry and Vanessa. Henry was divorced and decided to spend his prenup on a little gambling trip and Vanessa had been working as a call girl for three years and lived alone. Then we had Oscar and Ella. Oscar was on his bachelor trip and was supposed to get married last week and Ella, similar story to Vanessa, living alone and working as a call girl for three years. In fact, it's the same story for all the call girls. Then the other two victims were James and Michael. James was married and his wife didn't even know that he was in Palm Springs and Michael was halfway through a rather messy divorce." The team mulled over the information. There was a connection between all the male victims, marriage. That was definitely something to take into consideration. "It's not just me who sees the whole marriage connection?" Emily said, looking up from her tablet. There was a mumble of agreement from the rest of the team. "That does seem to be the only real connection these victims have. I think it would be wise to follow that lead. Derek and Emily will go and speak to Henry's ex wife, JJ, Rossi and I will go to the latest crime scene, and you two can start working on the geographic profile." Hotch dished out roles and you couldn't help but smile at Spencer. Just the two of you in the local PD, pouring over maps. You'd be lying if you said you weren't happy with that.

After initial introductions, you and Spencer were getting settled, finding maps and colour coding certain areas. "The hotels are all in a comfortable distance," you observed, noting the proximity of the crime scenes. "However the unsub definitely has a vehicle. That's just too far to walk and still have the energy to kill someone," Spencer pointed out. You hummed in agreement. "It's rather funny that I'm working the geographic profile with you, considering my dislike for geography," You said with a soft laugh, placing a pushpin in the map, marking a potential next dumpsite, "I've always been more partial to history." With that, Spencer perked up. History? He loved history. "What's your favourite era?" he asked before being interrupted by a local police officer. There went a potential bonding experience.

The case was dragging on. It was late, far too late and the team was surviving on shitty coffee and fast food. Henry's ex wife wasn't much help. She didn't want anything to do with him so that was a dead end. It wasn't like they could follow up with Vanessa either. Hence why the team was sat, half asleep at the table, wishing for a lead. "Get some sleep everyone," Hotch said, a tired tone in his voice, "You two can go to the casino tomorrow, see if anyone saw them leaving." Hotch pointed to Spencer and you. That would be nice.

The next morning, the two of you were heading down to the SUV, a spring in your step. There was no reason for it, but something just felt right today. The two of you climbed in and you made sure that Spencer was alright with his knee brace. "You're not going to get us kicked out, are you?" you teased, poking fun at the fact he was banned from all of the casinos in Las Vegas. "You're just as bad as Morgan, you know," Spencer quipped back with a soft laugh. "Come on, Spence, you can't expect us to work a case in a casino and us not poke fun at the fact you're a Vegas boy." That earned a weak eyeroll from him. You could see he didn't really mind.

As you were driving, you could see Spencer subtly grabbing at the handle above the door. You weren't that bad at driving but Spencer seemed to think otherwise. Mentally, he was doing all the stopping distance calculations, seeing if you guys would be safe. You had to admit, it was endearing. Reaching over, you patted his thigh, "Relax, genius, I'm not going to get us killed." Your laugh echoed through the car but all Spencer could focus on was the section of this thigh that felt like it was on fire. He hadn't expected that. Your hand, his thigh. He was a grown man for Christ's sake, he shouldn't be getting this flustered.

Spencer hobbled in after you, the familiar sounds of slot machines and the eyesore of a carpet overstimulated the young genius, yet he prevailed. "Lookie, lookie, you two feeling lucky? Wanna expand your fortune?" a voice asked, emerging from the rows of flashing machines. "We're FBI," You said, pulling out your badges, "We wanted to ask if we could have a look at your security footage from a few nights ago." "Well, she's got you on a tight leash, has to she?" the man said, only paying attention to Spencer, "Or are you one of those lads that like being bossed around?" You could feel your blood boiling at the disrespect. You'd never liked casinos, this owner was only giving you a further reason to hate them. Trying to get a word in, the owner held a hand to your lips, "Let the wounded puppy talk," he said, a sarcastically sweet smile on his lips. The audacity of this man. It was clear he wasn't going to speak with you. "I'm Dr Spencer Reid, like my partner said, we're with the FBI. There was a couple that was killed in the hotel across the road and we just wanted to look through your security footage to see if we could gather any information," Spencer explained, trying not to stutter. It was clear he was far from impressed with this man's attitude. "Yeah, I heard about that. Real shame really. She was pretty too, brought in quite a few regulars even," the owner said with a shake of his head, "This way then, agents."

There was something off with the casino owner. He was just slimy. Openly sexist, dodgy dealing and so condescending. Spencer had an almost instantaneous disliking towards him. The office where they kept their security footage was small and dingy. It was awful. Spencer could barely fit with his crutches. But you two squeezed in together. Spencer tried to ignore how close you were to him, how your arm was brushing against his, how the desk chairs were so close together you might as well sat on his lap. God he felt like a schoolboy with a crush all over again. After sifting through hours of footage, you couldn't exactly see anything. It was a busy night and most people were focusing solely on their winnings. You let out a small groan after the footage ended. Yet another dead end.

When you explained it to Hotch, he was just as frustrated as the two of you. This killer was good, that much was clear. It was yet another night of shitty coffee and fast food when Emily suggested an idea. "How about we go undercover at some nearby casinos. I mean, Reid has figured out an area of comfort, him and I could go to one and Derek could go with you to another," Emily suggested. Hotch seemed to be debating on that idea. Undercover. It wasn't something they usually did, but if it would help draw out the unsub then they had to play their cards right. "How about I go with Emily?" Derek suggested, his usual tomcat smirk appearing. Spencer knew what he was doing. Setting him up to go off with you. Spencer wasn't sure if he wanted to throttle or thank Derek. Having you dress as a call girl, draping over him like a blanket most of the night. It was a dream come true. If it wasn't for work. Instead it would just be a nightmare. "I can't go into the field, I'm on crutches," Spencer protested. "You can have a cane. Looking like one of those really high class gamblers," JJ suggested. That earned a murmur of agreement from the team. You were one of the few that were quite. You too weren't sure if you wanted to throttle or thank Derek, although you were leaning more on the throttle side. "Then it's settled then," Hotch nodded, "Morgan and Prentiss, you take this casino, you two take the other," he added, pointing to the map. You and Spencer had the more high end casino, meaning the both of you would be dressed to the nines.

"Do I have to wear this?" you complained from the bathroom stall, pulling up the dress Garcia had sent over to you. Of course, the local PD didn't exactly have a proper changing room, therefore you and Emily were getting ready in the bathroom of the precinct. Not exactly glamorous, but you had to work with what you had. "Oh come on, it can't be that bad," JJ chuckled with a soft shake of her head. Opening the bathroom door, you stood there, a slightly disgruntled look on your face. The dress you were wearing was stunning. Tight with a slit at the leg and it was strapless. Something that would definitely turn heads. The attention you would draw to yourself was something you were already dreading. "I feel stupid," you huffed, heels clicking on the tiled floor. Emily came out of her stall, not complaining at all. She seemed to be getting into this role effortlessly. "You look stunning," Emily pointed out, heading over to the mirror to do her makeup.

Spencer felt so out of place changing into his suit. It was too tailored for his liking. He'd much prefer the comfort of his cardigans. "Are suits always this itchy?" Spencer complained to Derek. That earned him a laugh, which, in turn, earnt an eyeroll from Spencer. "I'm being serious. It's like a sensory overload in this thing." "Kid, relax," Derek said with a soft chuckle. He walked over and fixed the lapels on Spencer's suit. At the proximity, Derek could see the worry and stress in Spencer's eyes. Telling him to relax just wasn't going to work. "How can I relax? The label of my shirt is itching the back of my neck and I'm going undercover. I shouldn't even be in the field," Spencer began to ramble. Derek put his hands on Spencer's shoulders to stop him from getting to much into his own head. "Hey, pretty boy, this isn't all about the suit, is it?" Derek asked, a knowing glint in his eye. "I mean, partly it is because have you felt how uncomfortable this suit jacket is? It's like I can feel every fiber personally annoying every skin cell," Spencer continued to press. "It's because you're paired up with-" Before Derek could finish the sentence, Spencer cut him off. "Where would you… No… You're making things up," Spencer stuttered, his voice raising a few octaves. That only confirmed Derek's theory. "Why do you think I offered you and them up?" Derek chuckled. So Spencer was right. This was Derek's plan all along. "I'm going to kill you," Spencer mumbled. "Oh you can, pretty boy," Derek smirked, "After we catch this unsub."

Spencer was still fiddling with his suit, waiting for you to come out of the bathroom. His crutch was  replaced by a rather expensive looking cane and his suit looked far too expensive than normal. He was not ready for how stunning you looked. It was like his breath was taken from his lungs. "I don't like it," you mumbled and your voice snapped Spencer out of his trance. "What?" Spencer asked, trying to hide the disbelief in his voice. Spencer definitely liked it. It was far from your usual style, but you still looked beautiful. "It's too…" You pause for a second, trying to find the right word, "Flashy." You kept pulling at the dress, trying to make it more modest. That was mission impossible. "Damn, mama," Derek smirked, clearly amused at how out of your element you were. "Can it, Morgan," you retorted, "Lets just get this over and done with."

The casino was filled with bright lights and loud noises. Pair that with the suit he was wearing, Spencer felt like he was in his own personal hell. Sure, he'd grown up in Vegas, sure, he'd been banned from every casino there, but this? This was horrendous. He could physically feel the pressure mounting on him. He took a deep breath, preparing himself to stay on alert.

He took a seat at one of the poker tables. You were on the other side of the casino, draping over some random man. Spencer had to quell the jealousy in his stomach when he saw you acting so seductive so effortlessly, but with someone else. You were just doing your job. Spencer, predictably, was winning hand after hand. Straights, flushes, all because of the card counting. Of course, he had to throw a few games. Make it seem more believable. But other than that, it was fun for him. Just doing math and winning. He made sure to make a few jokes about the divorce mentioned in his cover story, loud enough for the potential unsub to hear.

"Hey honey," you mumbled loud enough for the rest of the table to hear, "You're on quite the hot streak." You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, effortlessly leaning into him. You looked every bit the call girl. Spencer could feel his heart beat spike. This wasn't the same as your shy touches. No, this was more intense. "You alright?" you whispered into Spencer's ear. "Yeah, I'm just acting," Spencer whispered back. It was good. It was really selling the gambling and call girl facade. "Oh, so you can make your heart race on command?" you teased with a natural playful smirk. This was far from the usual anxious version of you. This was a side Spencer had never seen before.

After a few hours, you'd realised you were being watched. The unsub wasn't moving though. If you were to draw him out, the two of you had to move. "Spence, win this round then we'll make it look like we're going to the hotel across the street. We're being watched," You whispered, watching his cards in his hand. You weren't superstitious, but you couldn't help but feel sick at the sight of the ace of spades. The dead man's card. Your arm remained draped around Spencer as he excused himself from the table. As you two made your way out to the front of the casino, the unsub began to follow the two of you.

In the hotel room, that's where you'd decided to catch the unsub. So the two of you were pacing, waiting for the unsub. A knock on the door stopped you in your tracks. "Room service," a man's voice called out. Spencer and you shared a look. You walked over to Spencer, ruffling his hair and clothes, before doing the same to yourself and smearing your lipstick so it looked like the unsub had caught you two in a heated moment. Then, taking a deep breath, you opened the door. There stood a man. He had a crazed look in his eyes and within an instant you clocked him as the man watching the two of you in the casino. "You poor angel," he started, no introductions, just straight up caressing your face, "Look what these men do to you. They taint you. You are pure, you know you are. It is the filth that is the problem. Don't you worry, oh don't you worry you sweet angel, God will welcome you back with open arms." You were immediately uncomfortable with how much he was touching you. Brushing hair out of your face, treating you like a doll. Spencer felt a pang of jealousy but was forced to ignore it. The two of you were in potential danger. "Hotch, we need back up," Spencer mumbled into his earpiece, quiet enough so the unsub didn't hear him. "As for him," the unsub pointed a finger over at Spencer, "He was sinned. He will pay. The good Lord will turn him away from the pearly gates and he will suffer for the sins he has committed. He is temptation, leading good women like you away from the path of God. First getting a divorce, separating a holy union as if it was nothing, and now this. Tempting you like the snake tempted Eve." He grabbed you and started leading you over to the bed. After he'd sat you down there, he pulled out a carrier bag, no doubt planning on suffocating you, giving you the less gruesome death. Spencer wasted no time drawing his gun. "Put the bag down and step away." There was a sense of authority in his voice which was rare. You were just counting down the minutes until backup showed up. "What? Are you going to add murder to your list of sins too?" the unsub taunted. At that brief distraction, you swung one of your legs to sweep the unsub's and watched him crumble to the floor. You rested a heeled foot on him, stiletto pressing down just enough to feel discomfort. The unsub reached into his pocket and pulled out a knife then proceeded to attempt to slash at your leg. "You harlot! You're just as bad as he is," the unsub taunted. "FBI, drop the weapon." The familiar sound of Hotch's voice was a relief. The unsub froze, almost as if unsure what to do. With this newfound opening, you kicked the knife out of his hands and away from him. Hotch walked over and pulled the unsub off the ground, putting cuffs on him as the unsub cried out threats and warnings. "The good Lord will make you pay. You will all pay for your sins when you are burning in hell."

On the plane ride home, you were quiet. Everyone else was asleep, aside from Hotch. Naturally he was doing paperwork. You stared out of the jet window, a contemplative look on your face. You were so absorbed in your own little world that you didn't even notice that Spencer had taken a seat opposite you. "You looked nice this mission," Spencer mumbled, as if unsure to actually say it. There it was, the endearing awkwardness you'd fallen for. "Thank you. Although I'm sure it was all a set up on Penelope and Derek's side," You said with a soft laugh. "How so?" Spencer asked, cocking his head. "Well, Derek practically insisted that I was to be partnered with you and Penelope sent in a dress she said I would look stunning in, despite there being plenty of shops nearby to buy my own dress. It's like they were trying to set us up." It was clear now to Spencer that was the plan. God, he was going to kill Derek. However, he had to respect how smart the plan was. So maybe he'd have to begrudgingly thank him. You let out a small yawn and Spencer was snapped out of his haze. "You tired?" Spencer asked, his voice taking on a softer tone. "A little," You nodded. With that, Spencer got up and walked over to sit next to you. He wasn't sure where this bout of confidence came from but he was about to cash in on it. "Then sleep," Spencer offered. It didn't take you too long to rest your head on his shoulder and drop off to sleep. As Spencer looked down at you, he smiled softly. Inside, he was freaking out. You were asleep on his shoulder. It felt like the best day ever. From across the jet cabin, Derek just watched with a proud smile on his face, already planning on debriefing Penelope on how well their plan went.

[yourlocalravendork]

A musical history lesson

AN: I'm writing this on the way back from seeing Hamilton so once again I am hoping this reaches the right niche. Currently thinking of Spencer wincing at every inaccuracy or crying into his sweater during it's quiet uptown or who lives who dies who tells your story.

CW: reader is a theatre kid (is that even a warning?), spoilers for Hamilton I guess, references to six the musical and Wicked

You were a theatre kid. A quiet one at that. You didn't talk about it however you had your programs proudly displayed in your bedroom. It wasn't something you'd told Spencer about. It was your own little slice of personal life away from your job.

Penelope found out when you came in with a subtle reference to Six the Musical pinned on your lapel. A simple pin, 'sorry not sorry,' something that no one would notice unless they were a fan. With that Penelope had to ask you about it. Since then, she'd become your go to theatre friend.

One day, Spencer was trying to find you and decided to check Penelope's 'batcave'. Inside, he found the two of you, karaoke on screen, recreating Popular from Wicked. Needless to say the pure joy on your face was something Spencer wasn't going to forget it anytime soon.

"Hey guys," Spencer said, knocking on the already open doors. You freezed and just couldn't help but stare like a child that had been caught jumping on the bed. "Hey Spence," you managed to get out. "Wicked?" Spencer asked with a soft laugh. Penelope nodded eagerly. "Did you know your partner was a theatre kid? Honestly, I'm jealous of the shows they've seen." Unlike you, Penelope was more than happy to preach about how many shows she's seen. "They're going to Hamilton next week. I am so jealous." Spencer raised an eyebrow, unaware that was your plans. "Yeah, I'm going with one of my friends," You confirmed with a small nod. Spencer's raised eyebrow turned into a soft smile at your sheepish expression.

The day had come and you were getting ready at home. You were always one to dress nicely at the theatre. Then your phone went off. Your friend had to cancel. Great. You had a spare ticket now and you didn't exactly want to go alone. So you messaged Spencer. You explained everything and he was immediately on board. He wanted to share this little side of your world with you.

And so the two of you were sat in the theatre, Spencer adjusting his glasses and wondering why everyone was taking a picture of the stage. You were practically buzzing, hands eagerly around his bicep. The message about silencing phone played and you excitedly squeezed his arm. Then Spencer heard it. Or rather felt it. The beginning notes thundered through the theatre and Spencer was already gripped. It just drew you in and held you in a choke hold.

However, every so often, he'd wince softly. Calling Hamilton's mother a whore? Well, that was most likely a rumour started by her ex husband, Spencer thought. Martha Washington named her feral tomcat after Hamilton? Regardless of the fact that they said it was true, Spencer knew it wasn't easy to prove since there was no evidence of the feral cats records so that was up in debate. He winced again when events were mildly out of order, like how Philip Hamilton was killed after the election of 1800. But you were enjoying it and Spencer was enjoying watching you enjoy it.

The first act was fun. During the interval, you were excitedly gushing to Spencer about different tidbits of theatre facts about the show and before you knew it, it was the second act. You were loving it. Until Stay Alive reprise. Spencer heard you sniff. He looked down, seeing tears fall down your face. The tears only came out more when the opening notes to Its Quiet Uptown filled the theatre. You practically burried yourself in Spencer's side. He gently stroked your arm, trying to soothe you. You couldn't help but feel all warm and fuzzy. Spencer really was a sweetheart.

By the end of it, you were crying back into his jumper, the soft material absorbing your tears. Eliza's gasp only further broke you. You were one of the first one to stand for the ovation. Spencer smiled softly at seeing you in such an emotional state. It was endearing to see you so passionately invested.

"So, what did you think of it?" Spencer asked once you'd made it back to your car. "I cried at least three times and it emotionally destroyed me," you said simply, wiping the few remaining tears from your eyes, "Ten out of ten, would see again." Spencer chuckled and smiled as he climbed into the passenger seat. "Did you enjoy it?" you asked, climbing into the driver's side, eager to hear Spencer's opinion. "There were some… Inaccuracies," Spencer shrugged. "I could tell," you laughed, "You were wincing and it looked like you were mentally correcting the show." "It was good, don't get me wrong," Spencer reassured you. "So can I bring you to the next show?" you asked. It would be nice to bring him along more. A cute date for the two of you. It meant a lot to Spencer too, you asking him that. You were letting him into that little corner of your life that you kept hidden from everyone else at work. "I'd be honoured to accompany you to your next show." And as those words left his mouth, the smile that appeared on your face made every future show worth it if it meant to see that excited, pure smile.

[yourlocalravendork]

✭Feeling overdressed✭

AN: I have been seeing a lot of Sabrina Carpenter/short and sweet inspired fics with Spencer and I wanted to try my hand at one. Summary: After Penelope practically begged the team to tag along, Spencer gets a rather sweet surprise at the concert Cw: very feminine presenting reader, suggestive themes, Singer!reader x Spencer

"And that is why you guys need to come with me," Penelope was practically pleading to Derek and Spencer as they started to head out, "Come on, after that case, don't you think you need a break." Spencer was already very weary. Modern music was certainly not his scene. Almost all of the artists he liked were dead.

"Garcia, this isn't exactly my kind of music," Spencer pointed out. "But you need to spread you beautiful, nerdy wings. Expand into new territory, see other walks of life." Penelope was really trying to sell it to these guys. Derek could see where Spencer was coming from. Your music was far from the kind that Spencer would listen to. However, it would be a nice evening out. "Come on kid, it's just one show. If you don't like it, then I'll buy you a book or something," Derek offered. Spencer thought about it for a few seconds. A new book was tempting. And it was only one evening. "Fine, fine, I'll come along," Spencer finally caved.

Derek and Spencer were not expecting whatever this was. Waiting to get in, they were surrounded by girls. There were a few bored looking boyfriends, shooting them looks of sympathy, but other than that, they were in a sea of women. Derek was in his element. He was winking and smirking at girls that were staring at him, causing them to run off in giggles. Spencer, however, felt like he stuck out like a sore thumb. "I'll go get you guys drinks," Spencer proposed. He just wanted to get out of the loud, packed arena they were waiting in. "Oh no, boy genius, we're not letting you out of our sights. Can't be losing you," Penelope protested, wrapping an arm around his. So the three of them made their way to the bar.

"ID please," the rather bored bartender asked Spencer. Derek was trying to hold back his laugh. Spencer did look younger than he actually was. With a small sigh, Spencer pulled out his FBI badge and showed it to the bartender. "FBI, huh? Impressive." Based on their tone, the bartender wasn't actually all that impressed. It was just small talk, Spencer assumed. Security overheard the word FBI and came over. "FBI?" he asked. Penelope, Derek and Spencer nodded. "We're just here for the show though. None of this is linked to our job," Derek explained. The security guard nodded before telling them to follow him. Penelope was practically buzzing as he lead them into the venue early. "Maybe we need to flash our badges more often," Penelope joked with a very excited smile.

The stadium filled rather quickly and Spencer was very glad they were brought in early. He would not have been able to manage otherwise. Pulling out his little earplugs, he knew he would be overstimulated otherwise. He could still hear everything he needed to, it just quietened all the unnecessary humming. Then the show started. You came running out with a towel wrapped around you before seductively unwrapping it to reveal a baby pink bodysuit. Needless to say, Spencer was not expecting that. "Is she always so provocative?" Spencer attempted to ask Penelope but he was pretty sure his question was drowned out by excited squeels. He was beginning to really feel out of place here, wishing for the comfort of his books.

As the show went on, Spencer found an appreciation in the lyrics. The innuendos and word play was certainly something to admire. He'd had to get over how suggestive your show was, it certainly wasn't something he was used to. It was the third act of the show and security had gathered the three of them and brought them in front of the barrier. Penelope was practically passing out from excitement and Spencer and Derek were confused. Suddenly the noise of sirens filled the stadium and on the screens, Derek, Penelope and Spencer's face filled the screen. "I heard we had some FBI agents with us tonight," You said, eliciting a cheer from the crowd, "And I know that normally it's the other way round but, my god, you're all too hot. I just like, have to arrest you. What's your name cutie?" Spencer felt his cheeks heat up. He was never good at having the spotlight and here he was, in front of thousands. Derek, ever the ladies man, decided that it was aimed towards him. "No, not you, hunk. The guy next to you." Spencer practically froze and if it wasn't for Penelope's nudge, he would've just stood there, gulping like a fish. "Spencer," he called out, his voice shaking a little. "Spencer? Well, I'm feeling really overdressed here, Spencer," And with that, your skirt fell down to show a short skirt. Spencer's cheeks burnt bright red. "That's much better," you said, before one of your dancers handed you a pair of pink, fuzzy handcuffs. "I know, I know you're normally the ones arresting people, but, I mean, you're just too cute, I have to arrest you." You gave him a feignned look of sympathy and handed the handcuffs to security to pass onto Spencer. With your fingers, you made a telephone shape and mouthed 'call me' to him. As he looked down, your number was written on them. Penelope couldn't believe it. Any of it. It was crazy. Spencer was still in awe. You, however, were unshaken and continued your show as always.

"Oh I hear you knocking, Spencer, come on up," you sang and Spencer almost choked on the water he was drinking. You were so fun and flirty, the total opposite of him. And here you were, embracing your sexuality in front of everyone.

If Spencer thought that was scandalous then he was not ready for the next part. "Wanna try out some freaky positions," you sang before running to the end of the stage. You led down, lifted your leg in the air, shot a look in Spencer's direction as you winked and then said, "Have you ever tried this one?" Spencer felt like a victorian husband seeing his wife's ankles for the first time. He wasn't sure how exactly to feel. All he knew was that this was a night he really wasn't going to be forgetting anytime soon. And that he has a phone call he needs to make.

[yourlocalravendork]

today is the criminal minds version of good friday

[yourlocalravendork]

~Tell me more, tell me more~

Spencer confides in Derek about his date with reader. Unbeknownst to Spencer, reader confides in Penelope about their date with Spencer.

A/N: Is this becoming a series???? Maybe I'm just two involved in these two awkward nerds and I can't just let them be one shots. I played around with the writing style a little. Hopefully it isn't too confusing as I like to think I signposted who was talking pretty well.

Accidental date (1st) The not so accidental date (2nd)

Over the last few days, all that was on Spencer's mind was your date. The way you happily let him ramble about how different the film was to the book. The way you brushed his hair out of his face. He just couldn't help but keep his mind on that night. So much so, a certain Derek Morgan picked up on it.

"So, kid, what's on your mind?" Derek asked, resting on Spencer's desk. "I was just thinking about the very distinct difference between the 10th Doctor with Rose and the 10th Doctor after Rose. The character arch is actually quite intresting and it really makes you think about-" Before Spencer could continue his little ramble about Doctor Who, Derek cut him off. "Cut it, kid. We both know your British alien show isn't the thing in the forefront of your mind," Derek said with his usual tomcat smile, "So spill. What's got your mind turning to mush?" Spencer began stuttering and stumbling under his breath, trying to get out of the situation. It was still very delicate with you. He didn't even know if you two were dating. "I went on a date," Spencer mumbled and that's all Derek needed to hear before pouncing. "Get 'em, playa," he teased, giving Spencer a congratulatory slap on the back, "Who was it?" Spencer didn't say anything. Hell, he didn't need to. His eyes betrayed him as he glanced over to your desk. Derek's smirk only widened.

You however, were eagerly discussing the date in Penelope's office. "So, spill," Penelope said, handing you a mug of piping hot tea. She sat eagerly, awaiting the details of your little movie date with Spencer. "I mean, you heard about our little accidental date, right?" you asked wanting to make sure that she was caught up with your recent escapades. "The planetarium trip, Derek told me all about it. It's just so you two!" Penelope practically squealed. Seeing your friend so enthusiastic about your dating life was rather endearing. "OK, so this time I just sort of asked him," You explained, taking a sip of tea after you finished your sentence.

"They asked you?" Derek repeated what Spencer had told him, slightly impressed that you had the confidence. "It was… Awkward," Spencer said slowly, trying to find the best words, "But a good awkward."

"I thought I was too blunt," you continued your explanation, "And there was this slightly awkward air about us." Penelope was eagerly hanging into every word you were feeding her. She lived for this gossip. Especially when it involved you and Spencer. The two of you were like her own personal romcom unfolding in front of her. "Go on, tell me more," Penelope encouraged.

"They offered to take me to see that new Dorian Gray film," Spencer explained, a small blush painting his cheeks as he looked down at his hands. The still couldn't believe it had happened. "And let me guess, you told them all about the deviations from the book?" Derek teased light heartedly.

"He did not," Penelope gasped, trying to reign in her excitement. "Yeah, every so often, he'd whisper contextual information about the book and such," you admitted, a blush matching Spencer's unbeknownst to you. It was sweet. Like the two of you gossiping about school child crushes sharing with your best friends. "You two nerds are made for each other," Penelope declared which made you roll your eyes.

"It sounds like you had a nice night then, kid," Derek said with a nod of approval. "Yeah, it was nice," Spencer said with a soft smile. He wasn't exactly use to this. The office gossip was usually about others, not him. But Derek was almost like his older brother. Telling Derek about your date felt like getting approval from your big brother. "There was one other thing, too," Spencer added.

"I brushed his hair out of his face," You told Penelope with a smile on your face. "You did not!" Penelope gasped. From all of these details you were telling her, it felt like she was planning out yours and Spencer's wedding in her head. The two babies of the BAU, hopelessly in love. "Yeah, I did. He was just talking and it fell in his face. I… I wasn't thinking." A soft smile took over your lips at the memory. Spencer's soft hair and his even softer blush.

"That's what was on your mind then." Derek put two and two together. He had a sense of pride when it came to hearing about Spencer's date. Like watching Spencer grow up. "You want my advice, pretty boy?" Derek offered which Spencer eagerly nodded. Spencer would take any advice he could get. He didn't want to mess this up, whatever this was that the two of you had. "Just be yourself." "Just be myself? Have you seen how that usually works out for me?" Spencer asked. 'Just be yourself'. Those words always sounded like a trap. No one would want a nerdy, fact spewing boyfriend. They'd want someone normal. Spencer wasn't normal. "Think about it kid. They loved the planetarium date, they asked you out to the film, your geeky tenancies have won over their heart. They don't want some constructed personality to try and make them like you. They want you." Derek's advice made sense. You wanted Spencer for Spencer. That was new for him. New but definitely not unwelcome.

Both of your gossip sessions were cut short due to being called into the roundtable. You and Penelope came out of her office and crossed paths with Derek and Spencer as the four of you were heading to the roundtable. With a shy exchange of "Hi," from both you and Spencer, Derek and Penelope shared a look. A smirk that suggested they were definitely going to meddle and play matchmaker.

[yourlocalravendork]

✭Blasphemous Rumours✭

Spencer Reid x dead!reader

I've been writing a lot of fluff recently and so I thought I'd give angst a go. Yes, this is based on the Depeche Mode song Blasphemous rumours. CW: dead reader, death, gun, cannon typical violence, mentions of Maeve, mentions of Spencer's addiction, grief, angst, allusions to ODing and suicide, mentions of Foyet storyline, brief mentions of religion, no happy ending

Love was chemicals. It wasn't real. It was just your brain making you feel a certain way. There was no such thing as the one. That's what Spencer thought as he watched, stone faced, as they lowered your coffin into the ground. He wasn't going to cry. He couldn't cry. Not in front of your friends and family. He was going to remain strong for them. That didn't last long, he broke down the second he got home, wrapping himself in one of your old jumpers, trying to savour the scent of you.

Life was a joke. Stephen King said it best in Pet Sematary, 'life sucks, and then you die'. That was all life was. Misfortune upon misfortune, the occasional good day to help you through it. That's what Spencer thought as he saw you, peaceful and serene, at your funeral. It was open casket. He could see your face one last time. The morticians had done a good job at hiding the bullet hole through your skull. It just looked like you were sleeping. Something that Spencer was familiar with, seeing you curled up asleep, waiting for him to come home from a case. He fixed your hair slightly and lingered a little longer than everyone else. No one said anything. They just watched as Spencer had yet another trauma get added to his already too long list.

Vices were good. They helped you when nothing else worked. They helped you forget, helped you stop feeling. There really was something for everyone. That's what Spencer thought as he considered dilaudid again. To feel the sweet relief of nothing. To let his mind and body go numb. Maybe if he took enough, he'd see you again, in all your beauty. Maybe if he took enough, his heart would finally stop hurting and he'd never have to feel again. Spencer wasn't a huge believer in the concept of an afterlife but if there was a possibility that loved ones reunited in death, he'd do it in a heartbeat.

His job was pointless. He wasn't saving people, he was killing them, slowly. He'd seen it himself. Hotch lost Hailey and he'd lost Maeve and now you. That wasn't saving people. It was killing them. Every day every person he's ever cared about was put in danger. That's what he thought when he was sitting in the back of an ambulance with a shock blanket wrapped around him. The scene swirled around him, a blend of colours and sounds he couldn't distinguish. Condolences from Emily, hugs from Derek, empathetic looks from Hotch. None of that mattered though. The love of his life was gone. In that warehouse slumped dead against a chair. A downside to his eidetic memory - he'd have that image burnt into his brain until he died. Your words would haunt him forever. The last words you ever said, "I love you, Spence." He didn't think he'd ever want to hear those words again.

God has a sick sense of humour. Having his dad leave, having to institutionalise his own mother, being kidnapped, getting shot, hell, even being killed then resuscitated, both of his partners being shot in front of him. When Spencer died, he expected to see God laughing. That's what Spencer thought as he was forced to try and talk the unsub that was holding you hostage down. Little did he know, the unsub had made up his mind. You were going to die. You knew that and in the few moments you had left, you accepted it. "Spence, there's no point, he's going to kill me," you said softly. Spencer ignored you. He could save you. He had to save you. "Look, you don't have to do this," he'd told the unsub. That just caused the unsub to smirk. The sound of the gun cocking echoed through the room. "Spencer, close your eyes," you pleaded. You didn't need him to see this again. He didn't listen, still dead set on talking down the unsub. "Put the gun down," you heard Derek's firm voice, trying to help Spencer. You knew it was the end, that you had moments to get your affairs in order. "I love you, Spence," you said before the trigger was pulled. Derek shot too late, you were already gone. Spencer should've cried out, broke down, but he stood there numb. History having repeated itself.

Love was chemicals, that's all. Life was a joke. Vices were good. His job was pointless. And he didn't want to start any blasphemous rumours but God had a sick sense of humour.

[yourlocalravendork]

Whovian arguments

As a doctor who girlie, I felt so seen when Spencer showed up season 7 in his 4th doctor cosplay. The things I'd do to have an in depth discussion about what doctor is best and best story arcs with Spencer while knitting doctor who themed stuff… Hopefully this reaches the right niche of interests. CW: Civil disagreement, reader and Spencer being petty, honeymoon phase relationship between Spencer and reader, slight creep in of my own personal doctor who opinions (Ninth Doctor appreciatetion club here)

"Clearly it's Nine," You said, your tone firm. Confident even. "Most people skip Nine. How can he be one of the best?" Spencer countered with a raised eyebrow. Ever since he found out you were a Doctor Who fan, he'd been falling deeper and deeper in love. He was mesmerised by the way your lips moved when pronouncing made up alien species, the way your head bobbed absentmindedly at the iconic intro music, the smile that plastered your face every single time you watched the British show. Spencer hadn't thought it possible, but he'd fall in love a little deeper every time.

"That's because everyone skips Nine because they think David Tennant is hot or Matt Smith is hot. While I'm not saying they're not, I'm just saying some people care more about who plays the Doctor than the actual Doctor. Besides, need I remind you of the Empty Child arc or even Bad Wolf?" God Spencer was falling even harder. You were so… Passionate. It was hard not to find passion attractive. "Need I remind you that this is also the season with Boom Town," Spencer countered back, a slightly smug tone about his voice. "There is nothing inherently wrong with Boom Town. That is just a weak episode in a series of great episodes," You protested. Spencer just chuckled and shook his head. "You," he began, pressing a kiss to your forehead before continuing, "Are incredibly stubborn." He couldn't complain though. He'd rather have an incredibly stubborn, Doctor Who loving partner than someone who looked at him weird whenever he went on about Weeping Angels or Cybermen. He felt like he found his twin flame.

The next morning, the two of you arrived at work like usual. To everyone else, the two of you seemed normal. Too normal. No ramblings about obscure books or foreign films. The two of you sat at your respective desks while Derek and Emily watched the two of you work, determined to figure out what was up. "They've been… Quiet," Emily murmured to Derek. "Almost too quiet," Derek agreed with a hum, "What do you reckon got into them?" Now they were going to have some fun. I mean, who didn't love a little workplace gossip? "Spencer spoilt a book they were reading?" Emily suggested. Derek considered it for a second. It was possible. With the number of books Spencer read, it was bound to happen at some point. "Possible," Derek mused, watching the two of you work with your heads down low.

The truth was far more simple. A stupid disagreement. It was nothing relationship changing, no shouting, just the two of you being petty. In a way, it was endearing. Neither one of you had to worry about the other cheating or have an argument about some major issues. No, it was just the two of you debating your favourite British show together.

Derek and Emily couldn't sit in suspense much longer, so they decided to approach Spencer about it. "Hey, kid, everything alright?" Derek asked, leaning against Spencer's desk, as he so often did. "Yeah, you've been a bit… Quiet this morning," Emily added, concern almost lacing her voice. Your coworkers cared about your relationship. It was sweet, it was innocent, it was endearing. So seeing the two of you so quiet was odd. "He's not alright. I mean, he's alright but not all right. He's wrong, for once, that's what I'm saying," you chirped up from your desk next to Spencer's. That earned you an eyebrow raise from your colleagues. A silent plea for you to continue to explain. "Pretty boy? Wrong? Now this is a story I want to hear," Derek pressed with his usual smirk. "He thinks that Nine isn't one of the best Doctors," you said with a small shrug. "He's not bad but come on, how many whovians start with Nine?" Spencer piped up to defend himself. Derek and Emily just exchanged looks at each other. So this was what it was about. At least they didn't have to worry about the office sweethearts breaking up. "I mean, you started with Ten. You didn't even start with Nine," Spencer pointed out. You didn't have an argument there. You let out a small huff which resulted in a small, victorious smirk on Spencer's lips. "We'll let you two lovebirds debate your shows in peace then," Derek said, giving Spencer a small pat on the back with a small smile before heading off with Emily.

"You know, even if you are wrong," Spencer started with a small smile, "I think the fact that you actually like Doctor Who and know what you're on about makes up for it." You couldn't help but laugh softly. It really was nice that you'd found someone who liked the same niches as you. "I am not wrong. Agree to disagree?" you offered. "I guess I can live with that," Spencer hummed, his smile turning into a soft smirk, "If you watch the Fourth Doctor with me as I continue to knit my scarf." "Deal," you nodded, looking forward to tonight that little bit more.

If you're reading this, hello! I really hope you enjoyed this. Criticism is welcome, and I hope you enjoyed the ramblings of this nerd

[yourlocalravendork]

Spencer: If I had a nickel for every time a dark-haired psychopath woman developed a psychosexual hyperfixation with me, I'd have two nickels. Which isn't a lot, but it's weird that it's happened twice.

[yourlocalravendork]

The not so accidental date

This is a sequel to my accidental date fic linked here (thanks for all the notes on that, it really encourages me to write more) and for timeline reasons, is set in season 5 just after the first episode.

CW: Slight spoilers for season five, Spencer complaining about the 2009 Dorian Gray film compared to the book, tiny hint/reference/foreshadow to Maeve (it's a passing comment in a mini reader spiral), fluff, Spencer spouting facts as per usual.

Spencer had been keeping track of the days since your accidental date. Three months, two weeks and three days. He had told himself that he wouldn't keep track of it, but it was his eidetic memory practically forcing him too. He couldn't help but replay the small moments in the planetarium. The way you offered your hand to help him from getting overwhelmed, the pure awe in your eyes at the stars, the soft way you admitted that you wouldn't have minded if it was an actual date. And every time Spencer would remember them, a soft smile painted his features.

He needed those smiles more than ever now that he was confined to Quantico. Due to his shot leg, he couldn't leave the BAU to go into the field. Doctor's orders apparently. And Hotch didn't take Spencer's opinion of being fine to fly as a second, medical opinion. So here he was, hobbling around on crutches. He'd long kissed the thought of a proper date goodbye once he'd gotten shot. There weren't many places you could take a guy on crutches to on a date.

However, he clearly didn't see how smitten you were with him. While everyone else was worrying over Hotch after Foyet had stabbed him, you were in Spencer's hospital room, making sure he recovered properly. You didn't want to leave his side and you were there, keeping him company before he was discharged. Spencer being the lovable, oblivious idiot he could be when it came to matters of the heart, thought you were just being friendly. That seemed to be a common theme between the two of you. Accidentally friend zoning each other.

The case you were working had wrapped up and you were heading back to the offices to grab your bags. You had no plans, you tended to live more in the moment, never knowing when your next free time would be due to the sporadic nature of your job. At your desk, you saw Spencer hobbling towards the elevator on his crutches and naturally wanted to help him.

"Give me your bag," you offered, hoping that could help him a little bit. "It's fine, really, I've got it." That was Spencer for you. Insistant that he didn't need help. "You sure?" you pressed. "Yep," he said with a nod. You nodded back, not entirely convinced but knowing you weren't going to get any other answer. As the two of you waited for the elevator, you couldn't help but think about Spencer and how well he'd been doing with getting girls and their numbers. You'd heard from Derek about this Lila a few years ago, an upcoming actress who he kissed in her pool. You also saw the way a bar tender had fallen for his magic trick and managed to get her number last year, not that it went any far. But if you didn't act soon then who knows who would steal his heart away from you? Perhaps a genealogist who he has a sweet, over the phone relationship with? You shook the thought from your head. You were being absurd. But you did have to seize the moment. "Are you doing anything now?" you asked as the elevator finally arrived. "Well, I was planning on catching up on some Doctor Who, they've just found more footage in the BBC's archives," Spencer shrugged as the two of you got in the elevator. "That can wait, right?" you asked, being slightly bolder than usual. Spencer picked up on it, arching a brow at your question. "I guess, why?" You took a deep breath, it was now or never. "Well, they've just made a movie of The Picture Of Dorian Gray and I know you like classic literature so I thought maybe you'd like to go and see it with me. You know, a proper date this time." Spencer hummed in consideration for a moment before a soft smile tugged at the corner of his lips. The thought of you and him, in the cinema together, on a proper date, sounded nice. Although the more he thought about it, he started to spiral a little. A date. Oh god. He wasn't used to dates. The only reason he managed to get through the last one was because he didn't know it was a date. You'd picked up on his spiral and decided to back peddle. "It's cool if you don't want to though," you shrugged, as if you couldn't feel your heart shattering. "No, no, no," Spencer frantically reassured you. The last thing he wanted was for you to think he was rejecting you. "I…I'd love to."

And that's what led the two of you here, sitting in a dark movie theatre, almost awkwardly sat next to each other. Spencer didn't know the appropriate distance he should be keeping from you and you didn't know how close Spencer would want you sat. Neither of you thought about asking each other. Oh no, that would require common sense, something you both lacked when it came to each other. However, as the film went on, Spencer scooted a little closer, whispering references to the book and complaing when the film deviated from the source material. You had to stop yourself from giggling at some points and you were half convinced Spencer was ready to walk out by the end of it.

"A total disservice to the book," Spencer complained as you made your way back to your car, "Absolutely nothing like the book. Everything is out of order and they miss out key points. And what was that about Henry's daughter? Lord Henry never has a daughter. Don't even get me started on Dorian and Sybil's relationship though. The book shows how one dimensional their relationship is. They courted each other in the film, they don't even go on dates in the book. And you would've thought they could've kept Basil's love confession in the film. But no, of course they couldn't." You watched Spencer rant as he got into the passenger seat next to you. You couldn't help but think how endearing all of this was. He was getting so worked up over something so trivial. "So you didn't like it then?" you asked with a hint of amusement as you pulled out the cinema car park and started making your way to Spencer's apartment complex. "It was nothing like the book," he said, watching as you drove. With all of his rambling about the film, it was like he'd forgotten this was a date. He seemed a lot more comfortable now, showing how his awkwardness was just a mental barrier when it came to the unknown. "You know, the book was considered to use homoerotic themes to seduce Lord Alfred, Wilde's lover, so it was used for Oscar Wilde's trial for sodomy." There was the usual Spencer. Spouting random facts like it was second nature. "Yeah, a lot of the passages had to be heavily edited if he even wanted it published." He continued spouting contextual facts about the book all the way home. A soft smile painted your lips, listening to every one. Who needed the radio when you had your own personal encyclopedia next to you?

When you finally reached his apartment, you were convinced tonight could be called a success. Even if Spencer didn't particularly enjoy the film, he at least had a nice time info dumping to you on the way home. "Did you enjoy tonight?" you asked as you parked outside his apartment complex. Part of you was nervous to hear his answer. You wanted tonight to have gone well, especially due to the success of you accidental date. "Aside from how far off the movie was to the book, yes, I did enjoy tonight," Spencer nodded with a soft laugh, his hair falling into his face as he did so. You couldn't stop yourself as you reached out and adjusted it behind his ear. As soon as you processed what happened, you pull your hand back. A pink dusting coated Spencer's cheeks.  He wasn't expecting that. Not that he was upset by it, just flustered. "I… I guess this is me," he said after a few moments of silence, gesturing to the building. "Yeah, I guess it is," you nodded. You didn't want tonight to end, "Maybe we could do this again sometime?" you asked tentatively, not wanting to overstep any invisible boundaries. Spencer swollowed, his Adam's apple bobbing as he did. "Yeah, that would be…. That would be nice," he nodded, a shy smile toying at his lips. "Do you need any help getting up to your apartment?" you asked, genuinely concerned with his leg injury. "I'll manage," he reassured you with a soft smile. "Be careful then," you replied. For a few moments, the two of you just sat in your car, neither one of you sure if you should make a move. It was awkward but in that beautifully awkward way you and Spencer had managed to trademark as your own.

Spencer was the first to break, clearing his throat and unbuckling his seat belt. "I will," he nodded, going to open the car door. You nodded back at him, watching as he got out and hobbled on his crutches. "Goodnight, Spencer," You called out of your window to him. "Night," he called back before disappearing inside of his apartment building. For a minute you just sat there, processing the fact that you had just been on a date with Spencer Reid. An actual date with Spencer. Your head rate picked up and a smile exploded onto your lips. You felt like you were on cloud nine. And as you pulled away, you couldn't help but wonder if this would be the first of many dates with the BAU's resident boy genius.

[yourlocalravendork]

Accidental date

A/N: I am a sucker for early seasons Spencer. Give me our sweet, stuttering baby Spence any day of the week. That being said, enjoy some fluff of our favourite boy genius. Buckle up, it's a decently long one

CW: Tooth rotting fluff, both oblivious reader and Spencer (for someone so smart he can be kinda dumb but we love him), wouldn't be a Spencer fic without some nerd facts, reader likes mythology

Words: 2.2k

Being a BAU agent meant an unpredictable life schedule. Spencer knew that. He knew that all too well. You didn't though. You were still adjusting to the fact that and that was apparent with the way you showed up after being called in late.

Spencer was in the break room, grabbing a coffee to wake him up, when you walked in. You were more dressed up than usual and an air of disappointment hung over you. Spencer was about to say something but Derek beat him to it.

"You look like someone's just rained on your parade," Morgan said, leaning on the counter next to Spencer, "What's ruffled your feathers?"

"A date that I'm probably not going to hear back from. I get in my car to leave and then Hotch calls," you sighed. Spencer couldn't really relate. He'd never had to cancel a date due to his severe lack of them, however, he could appreciate your annoyance. He opened his mouth to try and offer some comforting words but was cut off when JJ poked her head in the break room, telling them Hotch was expecting them in the briefing room.

Something similar happened two weeks later. Spencer was just working on some case files when you walk in with a huff, dumping your bag on the floor next to your desk. Dressed up nice, yet again, for someone who would never see the effort you put in for them.

"Can't serial killers respect our weekends?" you mutter with a roll of your eyes. It drew an amused huff from Spencer.

"Life would be so much easier that way, wouldn't it?" Spencer said, the hint of amusement lacing his voice. You had to admit, his amused tone did help ease your annoyance at being called in.

"Come on, boy genius, let's get our arses to the briefing room so we don't get lectured about the importance of punctuality," You sighed.

Spencer was slowly coming to the conclusion you were cursed. This was coming from a man of science and statistics, keep in mind. Your dates being called off due to a case was becoming a regular thing and Spencer couldn't help but wonder if you ever got time to yourself. The case started how it seemed to usually start. You came in, disappointment clear on your face, a slight slump in your posture. Spencer felt sorry for you. Truly, he did. So he decided you needed something to cheer you up.

After they wrapped up the case, Spencer found you gazing out of the jet window. A familiar peaceful look was painting your face. He'd noticed that you often enjoyed just looking out windows as you travelled. He often wondered what you were thinking as you looked out there.

All confidence he was building up dissipated when you turned your head and smiled softly as he took a seat opposite you. His face started to contort as he tried to figure out how to put this. His hands had a mind of their own as he fiddled with his own fingers, a familiar stim he had to keep him grounded.

"I... Well," he began, swallowing any fear that might be threatening to infiltrate his voice, "I sort of noticed, when you first got here for the case, you... You looked almost disappointed... And stressed, definitely stressed." He mentally cursed himself. Was it rude to say a woman looked stressed? He didn't know. He just thought he was digging a deeper hole for himself. Little did he know, you were hanging onto every word he was saying. At least someone was paying attention. Failed date after failed date did horrible stuff for your self esteem.

"Well... I... I... Um, I figured that you might need a distraction from all this work," Spencer wrung his hands, really underestimating how nerve wracking asking a colleague to spend time with you actually was, "So if you want, there's this planetarium and I have an extra ticket. I... I figured if there was anyone on this plane that would genuinely enjoy the planetarium, it would be you. So... I guess what I am trying to ask is if you'd want to go with me?" You smiled softly over at him. By the way he was continously wringing his hands, it was clear he was apprehensive in asking. But you figured what did you have to lose.

"Sure, that would be nice," you replied with a small nod. And with those five words, you could see a wave of relief wash over his face.

Spencer was patiently waiting for you to pack up your things once you reached the bull pen. He was more nervous than he thought. It was just two friends going to the planetarium together. Nothing more, right?

"You, um... You ready to go?" Spencer asked, his Adam's apple bobbing as he tried to swallow his nerves.

"Yeah," you replied quietly, grabbing your bag and before you could sling it over your shoulder, Spencer spoke up.

"I'll carry that, if you want," he offered. You handed your bag over, thought nothing of it. He was just being a friend.

"Thanks," you nodded as the two of you made your way to the elevator.

You got into Spencer's car and buckled up, a lot more confident than Spencer. He was worrying about you thinking anything more of this little outing. Would that be a bad thing though? He didn't know, his thoughts were too cluttered. The car ride was quiet to begin with. Spencer was a bit apprehensive on turning the radio on. He was overthinking his music taste now. What would you think if you turned on the radio and just heard classical music? Who even listened to classical music for fun? Him, that's for sure. He was pulled out of his thoughts by your voice. "Do you always drive in silence?" you asked him. He shook his head. "No, I… Um…" Words were getting stuck in his throat. Why was he so nervous? "I usually have the radio on. You can turn it on if you want." The second the words left his lips, he regretted them. You reached towards the car stereo and turned it on. The sounds of Vivaldi's Four Seasons filled the car. A soft smile appeared on your face. Spencer tried to read it. Was it a teasing smile? Were you going to take the piss out of him? "This is one of my favourite pieces," you said before humming along under your breath. That helped relieve Spencer of some of his stress. At least you didn't think he was a total nerd for listening to classical music.

Spencer had severely underestimated how many people had the same idea of coming to the planetarium. He could handle a lot of things. He saw a lot of things with his job. But one thing he could not deal with was large crowds. He shuffled closer to you, swallowing his nerves for the nth time this evening. He didn't want to say something. You were already fed up of dates being cancelled because of work, the last thing you needed was this to be cancelled because Spencer hated large crowds. As if sensing his nerves, you subtly offered him your hand. You doubted he'd take it due to the 'staggering amount of pathogens', however he did. As he did, he shot you an appreciative look. It was nothing, really. It's what friends do, right?

The two of you found your seats and settled in. It was practically packed. However, as the show began, the room fell silent. Spencer could deal with this. He was trying to focus on the talk, he really was, however, you were right there next to him. He watched you as you clung onto every word, watching as you relaxed, finding a rare moment of peace in your stressful job. It was a nice sight to see and a small smile quirked up the corner of his lips. He didn't need to look up at the projection of the stars. He much preferred to view it through the reflection in your eyes. It was almost like childlike wonder. Beautiful. That was the only word Spencer could think to describe this moment. It would be one he thought about for months, even years to come.

"Do you have a favourite star?" you asked, as you the two of you left to head to his car. Like the gentleman he was, he held the door open for you as he thought about your question. "I quite like Sirius. It's in the Canis Major constellation. According to myth, the Canis Major and Minor constellations were Orion's hunting dogs. Orion would boast about how many animals he'd killed so when he was banished, him and his hunting dogs were doomed to hunt the skies yet never to catch anything." Spencer really wasn't expecting you to still be paying attention by the end of his mini ramble. Most people lost interest. But as he looked over at you in the passenger seat, he noticed you were hanging onto every word he was spewing. It was a nice feeling, knowing someone had been paying attention. "I quite like mythology," you admit, "Especially Greek. Although Norse is quite intresting too, so is Egyptian and, of course, Roman." It was a little fascination of yours that you kept to yourself. Just something small to keep your mind off of all the gore your work had. "It's quite fascinating looking back on myths too. You can really learn a lot about the time period through myths and how certain people are portrayed," you said before going on a ramble about myths. As Spencer drove, he couldn't quite believe how much more you were being open. He knew you had nerdy tenancies, he just didn't know the extent of them. It was nice to hear you talk.

The next morning, Spencer watched as you walked over to your desk. There was a slight bounce to your step. It had worked. His little outing had cheered you up. He smiled to himself as you took a seat next to him. "Morning," you said in a rather cheerful tone as you logged onto your computer. "Good morning," he replied with a soft nod. "Good morning, love birds," Morgan chimed in, putting a hand on both of your backs. Spencer looked very confused. Love birds? Where did that nickname come from? "So, how was your date? I mean, outing," he teased, that typical, teasing smirk painting his lips. "It wasn't a date, Morgan. We just went to the planetarium," you pointed out. "Yeah, you did. Just the two of you, boy genius here drove you there and home. Sounds like a date to me," Morgan shrugged. The more he spoke, the more he was right. It did sound an awful lot like a date. "I bet he even held the doors for you like the gentleman he is." Morgan's teasing was all in good faith, as usual. However that didn't stop the blush creeping up Spencer's neck. Yeah, it really did seem like a date. Before Morgan had time to tease you anymore, Emily cut in, ready to save you two from embarrassment. "Leave them alone, Morgan," Emily said with a roll of her eyes, "What they do in their free time is up to them."

As Morgan walked away, Spencer thought about it. Yeah, the way Morgan put it definitely made it sound like a date. Spencer wasn't sure what to think about that. He began wringing his hands again. He could feel his heart hammering against his chest, his breathing was slowly picking up. He was panicking. Panicking over the fact that, yeah, he had taken you on a date and neither of you realised. "You good?" you asked, looking over at him. "Yeah…" he tried lying however his voice cracked, clearly betraying his true feelings, "Well, sort of… No." "You're overthinking," you pointed out. "Did you see last night as… As a… As a date?" he struggled to get that last part out and, frankly, he was freaking out about your reply. "I didn't really think of it that way until Morgan opened his mouth about it," You shrugged. Oh god. Was that a good thing or a bad thing? Spencer's mind started spinning, running worse case scenario after worse case scenario. Until your words quietened his mind. "If it was a date, it was the best one I'd been on in a while." Your smile was soft, just like your voice. He nodded slowly, trying to process it. You weren't mad that it could be interpreted as a date. You weren't disgusted by the idea of going on a date with him. "Well… I mean… That's… Good. Good. Cool," Spencer said, trying to form words. His 187 IQ was slashed into single digits all because of you. His brain was mush. "Maybe at some point we could go on an official date," You said slightly quieter. And if he brain wasn't mush then, it certainly was now. "That would be nice," he said with a small nod.

[yourlocalravendork]

Gideon, about Reid: I have created the perfect FBI profiler

Hotch: Fucked up a perfectly good child prodigy is what you did. Look at it. It's on drugs

[yourlocalravendork]

Spencer and the ghost

Fem ghost!reader and Spencer (platonic) Cw: Dead reader, discussions of death, ghosts, fem reader, very early season Spencer - Spencer has just started at the BAU kind of early Spencer

A/N: I can't get this idea out of my head. Ghost!reader and Spencer being like this serial killer catching duo. I thought the dynamic might be fun to play around with since Spencer is a man of science so having him accept that reader is a ghost seems like a great idea. I am also toying around with making this a series.

Every job had the joke to scare the newbies. The BAU had you. You were a woman that was found dead by the BAU and you were stuck there forever now, doomed to haunt the corridors. Spencer had heard all about you from one of the older agents - Morgan, was it? It was something that was supposed to spook him, to keep him from working late. No amount of ghost stories would deter him from finishing all the assigned work though.

It was early October, Spencer's favourite time of year, when he first encountered you. It was brief and he could've sworn it was a trick of the light. He was on his way to the briefing room and in the hustle and bustle of the bull pen, he could've sworn he saw a woman just sat in a spare chair, watching everyone. He did a double take and she was gone. It sat in the back of his mind. He chalked it up to being a busy morning.

He had another odd encounter on his birthday. He was slowly warming up to his new colleagues. They'd even made him a cake. As he went to blow out the candles, he'd found they were already extinguished. That was when he saw you again, a soft smile on your lips before blending into the crowd again. When he asked the team if they'd saw you, they just laughed softly, told him it was probably just the BAU's resident ghost. It was stupid. Ghosts didn't exist. Spencer should know. He was a man of science. Science said ghosts didn't exist.

"How do you think she died?" Morgan asked one day while they were flying to the latest case.

"I reckon she was stabbed," JJ suggested with a small shrug.

"That's cliché," Morgan dismissed before looking over at Spencer, who has his nose burried in the case file they were supposed to be studying. "What about you, kid? How do you think she died?" Spencer looked up from the file, brows furrowed. He had an almost confused look on his face. Why were his teammates wasting time talking about a myth?

"I... I don't think there is a ghost. There was this study and it showed that most of the time, the feeling of being haunted is a placebo effect. They had two groups of people, one were told a room was haunted, the other weren't. The group that were told that the place was haunted were more likely to describe the feeling of being watched or the room being cold. The people who weren't told didn't feel anything." It was something his team had to get used to. His little spouts of facts and statistics. Before Morgan had the chance to encourage Spencer to entertain the conversation, Hotch came over, 'lightly encouraging' them to focus on the case.

What really sold him was when you two properly interacted for the first time. It was late one evening and he had a mountain of paperwork. Spencer felt like he was drowning in it. Everyone else had left the office, leaving just him alone. Morgan had wished him luck, having to stay behind with the ghost. Spencer just rolled his eyes at that. But no, he did need the luck.

It started with small things. A coffee cup moving a little, a book in the wrong place, a thud in the hallway. Spencer just chalked it up to sleep deprivation. He should be asleep by now and it was just his mind playing tricks on him. But it was when he saw movement up in the offices, that's when he started to think it wasn't sleep deprivation.

Cautiously, he approached Hotch's office, where he saw the movement. He could hear mumbling but he couldn't make out what was being said. When Spencer opened the door, he could see the chair spinning. No one was sat in it. At least that's what it looked like anyway. That was until the moonlight hit the chair at the right angle. There he saw you. He couldn't believe it to begin with. He was a man of science. Ghost, they couldn't be real. But you were right there in front of him.

"What's crackin'?" you asked casually. It was like you didn't even realise you were dead. Spencer could tell by your clothes that you'd died a while ago. The slang you were using was just solidified his theory.

"This isn't happening. This... This can't be happening," Spencer muttered mainly to himself.

"Oh it's happening all right," you replied with a slight smirk. It was nice for you to finally have someone to talk to. It had been far too long.

"But... But you're?" he stuttered, still struggling to wrap his head around it.

"Dead, I know. But this is groovy right?" Spencer really didn't know how you could be so calm about all of this. You just admitted to the fact that you were dead? How could you be so carefree about it? "You're the new one, Dr Spencer Reid, right?"

"Yeah... Yeah, I am..." Spencer still couldn't grasp he was talking to a ghost.

"Radical," you said with a small nod of your head before reaching your hand out and introduced yourself. Spencer went to shake it, only for his hand to pass straight through it. He kept his eyes trained on your translucent hand, it was all so mind boggling. He really wasn't sure on all of this. He was talking to a ghost. A literal dead person. You seemed harmless though. It wasn't like you were trying to kill him or anything. Just causing a little havoc around the office occasionally. "Well, Dr Reid, it truly is a pleasure to meet you," you said before pushing off on the chair, causing it to spin around, "I have a feeling we're going to be great friends."

[yourlocalravendork]

New headcanon accepted

I was just thinking about Spencer knitting you a cute cardigan to keep you warm, with oversized pockets big enough to fit 'War and Peace,' or even a matching scarf and beanie. If you see those adorable, knitted pieces and felt like you needed one, he would have made you one.

Or there was a time when everyone was making Harry Styles cardigans I can imagine he would have made one for you if you wanted.

Or if you’re a Taylor Swift fan who couldn’t get your hands on one of her cardigans, he would have made you one too.

[yourlocalravendork]

Nerds looks out for nerds

Cw: police being dicks, reader being a total nerd, reader getting cut off mid ramble, Spencer comforting reader, vauge description of a crime scene

A/n: Spencer, especially early seasons Spencer, is literally my spirit animal. Socially awkward, rambling and a huge nerd. I'd kill to ramble to him and have him ramble to me

Flowers were left at the last crime scene. The team, naturally came to the conclusion that it was a show of remorse. They didn't think much more of it. That was until Spencer and you were sent to look at the crime scene.

The body was still there. That caused you to urge a little. Still fairly new to this job, the sight of a body still managed to illicit a nauseous reaction.

"You the FBI?" one of the local police officers asked with a hint of skepticism in his voice, "Aren't you two a little young to be in the FBI?"

"It's not like I've heard that line before," You mumble under your breath. Being young and in the FBI had its perks. However it also came with ignorant cops doubting your ability.

The two of you began your observation of the crime scene. The usual stuff. Blood, broken objects, clues just itching to be discovered. Your mind was racing, analysing every small detail. And Spencer's mind? Well, that was sorting through theories quicker than anyone could comprehend. The body was left inside the victim's house. There was a red cross on the door and flowers in the coat pocket again. It had to mean something. Something that was staring the team in the face. Mocking them. Taunting them.

"Hey, Dr Reid," you called out to him. You were aware you could just call him Reid or even Spencer, but using his honorific seemed like a show of respect to the young doctor. "What kind of flowers are these anyway?" Spencer crouched down and observed them, brow furrowing as his mind ran through the types of flowers it could be.

"There's not one kind of flower. There's multiple. In this case, they could be referred to as a posy," Spencer explained. Then it clicked.

"That's it!" you cried out, "A pocket full of posies!" You got up and rushed towards the door. The red cross, the flowers, it was all making sense.

"I want what they're on," the police officer muttered partly to Spencer.

It seemed like a tiny break in the case. The smallest break could be useful. And it felt like you'd just found it. It was a great feeling. You were practically buzzing on the ride back to the station. Spencer could sense it. He was proud of you. Impressed too. You'd managed to figure out something that was staring the team in the face based on what seemed to be a random historical fact.

"OK," you started, as you presented your findings to the local PD and the team back at the station, "When Dr Reid and I were at the scene of the crime, we looked at the flowers left. Like, really looked at them. Upon further inspection, Dr Reid discovered that they weren't just one type of flower. It was different types. It was too small to be a bouquet so that makes it a posy. Now it's the placement that's important. A pocket full of posies. Like in the nursery rhyme, ring a-ring a roses. The song, it's about the plague. They believed in miasma, bad smells-" Your ramble was cut short by a judgemental police officer.

"Your point?" he asked, a dull, bored and condescending tone laced his voice. Your lips formed a small 'o' before pressing into a thin line.

"Right, my point," you said, quieter than before. As you spoke, you were less animated. You didn't move your hands as much as you weren't as expressive. "What all that points towards is someone with an interest in history. The pocket full of posies, the red cross on the door, all link back to the plague. It also explains the weird looking figure in the security footage. Our unsub was dressed like a plague doctor. It's not out of the realm of possibility that our unsub has a deep passion in history."

After you concluded your little display, you found yourself alone in the room where the team had been working. When Spencer walked in, he could see how dejected you were. He could see himself in you. He knew what it was like to be cut off mid ramble. You were gently rocking in the spinning office chairs when Spencer took the seat next to you.

"Miasma?" Spencer asked quietly. He knew what the theory was. He just wanted you to continue your ramble. Gain your spark back.

"The theory bad smells cause disease," you said with a small nod, "It was one of the main theories of what caused the plague. Obviously now we know that wasn't true and that it was a just a theory." There was more you could've said, but you stayed quiet. You didn't need to be cut off anymore. Spencer frowned slightly. It was clear there was more you wanted to say. You couldn't exactly hide emotions from a profiler.

"So how does that link to flowers?" Spencer knew. He knew everything you were telling him but he was willing to listen. Be the ear to hear your rambles, the one he rarely had for himself.

"Well, they'd combat the bad smells with good smells. That's where a pocket full of posies comes from. They would literally carry around a pocket full of posies," You didn't stop yourself this time, you continued, adding your information as well as getting slightly more animated, "And the plague doctors would put flowers in the end of the beak part of their masks. They'd see it as protection. They actually had a lot of obscure ways to protect themselves from the plague..." You began to ramble, almost forgetting what got you down in the first place. Spencer knew all of this before hand. However he didn't say anything. He knew what it was like first hand to be cut off from a ramble about an obscure fact you found intresting. It had happened to him more times than he could count. So he just sat there, listening intently, letting you talk his ear off while you gained your spark back.

[yourlocalravendork]

Foyet: Ah, Hello again. We really need to stop meeting like this.

Hotch: Maybe we would, if you would STOP BREAKING INTO MY FUCKING HOUSE!!!