lizzyk137 - Tumblr blog

lizzyk137 · 9 days

Text

PRACTICE RUN • S. REID X READER

fluff, based on a scene at the end of 1 x 04 , going on a platonic date with spencer (for him to know what it's like) that becomes very real, kissing, silly little facts (again, very loosely verified, read everything i say ever with a grain of salt), ~1.3k

“Spence?” You ask, glancing at the clock on your nightstand. It’s 10:30, everyone had left the BAU around 8 after finishing up paperwork on the latest case. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong, exactly,” Spencer mumbles. “You know how I went to that baseball game with JJ? Last week?”

”Yeah. You have fun?”

”Yeah. I mean, I guess.” He sighs. “I think Gideon meant for me to ask her out like a date,”

”Did you want it to be a date?” You sit up slowly, tugging your blanket over your knees and putting your phone on speaker so you can rest your cheek on your propped legs.

”No.” He pauses. “But I want to know how to ask someone out. In case I ever want to in the future.”

”Well,” you stretch and yawn a little. “Do you want me to explain it?”

”Would you?” You can perfectly imagine the way his face lights up from the way his voice pitches up alone.

”Of course, Spence,” you smile. “The best thing to do is make your intentions clear. Either have established that you like them, or make it clear when you ask. Try to ask them to do something, just the two of you, that is a shared interest between you two.”

He hums.

”For example, you like film viewings and stuff, right?” He mumbles a soft agreement. “So, it could be something like ‘Hey, I got tickets for this movie on — and then whatever day —, I was thinking the two of us could go. I’d like to see it with you.’”

”That easy?”

”That easy. Sometimes I like to say ‘it’s a date,’ when they agree, just to make sure they’re clear on my intentions. Never a bad idea to be explicit in your communication.”

”You go on a lot?” He asks curiously. “Of dates, I mean. You said that’s something you like to say,”

”Not recently, but in college,” you smile softly. “Not everyone was 16 when they were in higher education,”

Spencer chuckles. “You’re right. Are they any… fun?”

”You don’t know?”

”No one ever asked me out. Or maybe they did. I’m not good at that type of stuff. What do people even do on dates?”

”Talk,” you chuckle. “Enjoy one another’s company. Really, it’s just any old hangout with different emotions.”

Spencer sighs, voice petulant when he speaks again. “Emotions are confusing,”

”I have an idea,”

“What is it?”

”How about I take you on a practice run date? So you know what it’s like.”

”Isn’t that weird?”

”If you make it weird,” you tease. “It’s up to you. We’ll treat it like a date but go as friends, just so you can get used to that type of environment and its expectations,”

Spencer clicks his tongue, and you picture him pursing his lips in contemplation. “You promise I won’t feel weird?”

”I can’t control your emotions, Spence, but I promise to treat you like normal.”

He’s silent for a bit. “Okay.”

“Okay,” you repeat with a smile. “I’ll plan everything. Just tell me if you change your mind,”

.°. ݁₊ . ݁ ⁺₊

When you and Spencer finally have time, it’s when you’re off work for a day after a rough week in Montana. He’s dressed pretty normally, but he took more time than normal to try to tame his hair, and he’s fidgeting with the cuffed sleeves of his undershirt as you walk up.

“Spencer,” you call and he looks up, smiling nervously. “You ready?”

“What exactly should I be ready for?”

“I decided we should go to an aquarium. That okay?”

“We have a shared interest in fish?” He asks, incredulous, recalling you saying a date had to be something both parties liked. “It’s fish.”

“The information,” you poke his side. “You like learning. It’s cool, I promise. And you can even point at the ugly fish and say they look like me.”

Spencer tilts his head. “Why would I do that? You’re not ugly.”

You smile, unsure of how to respond. “Come on.”

He listens, and it’s a little awkward, him silent and studying you. There’s so much tension that you’re unexpectedly and uncharacteristically a little quiet, looking at the way the cyan lights in the tanks flicker and reflect in his eyes, making them into inky pools of brown, black, and bluesin the low lighting.

You realize he looks pretty… cute.

“Spencer,” you whisper, snapping him from his laser focus on a sign about knobbed whelks. “You’re meant to talk to me.”

“Sorry,” he whispers back. “I just—”

“Think they’re cool?” You ask lightly.

“Yeah.”

“You want to go see the otters?” You question, grabbing his hand in yours. “They hold hands like this when they’re asleep, so they don’t drift apart and lose each other.”

He stares down at your hand, mouth dropped a little as you dragged him. “Is that why you’re holding mine? So I don’t get lost or separated from you.”

“Yeah.” You grin at him and he smiles back, letting you pull him along.

The otters are cute, and he’s fascinated by them. “I never knew they were so vicious…” he trails off as he reads the sign, looking at one with big round eyes that stares at him through the glass.

“Maybe we can profile our next unsub as an otter.”

Spencer snorts. “Yeah, whenever we get a killer who throws their victims on rocks repeatedly. That’d be a signature.”

You smile and look at his profile in the glowing light.

“What?” He asks, shying from the intensity of your gaze.

“People normally look at the person they’re on a date — fake… date — with.”

“Do they always look this intently at them?”

“Sometimes,” you fix his collar where it’s flopped over a little. “When they want to kiss them,”

You trail your fingers from his collar over his neck briefly before dropping your hand, and you feel his pulse racing.

“Do you kiss people on fake dates? Or practice dates?”

“Most people don’t go on those, Spence. But normally, you ask if you can kiss the person — through body language or verbally, and kiss them.”

Spencer falls quiet, following you towards the sharks slowly before catching your wrist in a dim part of the corridor, and you can barely make out the way his tongue darts over his lower lip.

“How does that body language look? So I can identify it,”

Your heart races, and you step closer to him, breathing in the scent of his cologne. Your eyes partially close just from the anticipation. You let your hands rest on his shoulders, meet his gaze before lowering it to his lips and dragging it back on, curling your fingers on his collar. “Like this.”

Spencer swallows, and moves his hands shakily to your waist.

He waits for you to look at him, and then copies you, eyes falling to your mouth before sliding back up your face.

You kiss him and he startles a little, stiffening under you before sighing and awkwardly trying to match you.

His eyes shut instinctively and remain like that even as you pull back, cheeks so red you can see it despite the lack of light.

“I don’t know… how… to kiss.” Spencer mumbles. “I’ve read a lot, but you’d be surprised how little there is other than facts that roughly 60% of couples tilt their heads to the right to kiss, and that many recipients of kisses will tilt to the right if the person kissing them is doing—”

You kiss him again.

“Later, Spencer. We’re on a date.”

His eyebrows shoot up. “A real one?”

“Unless you kiss everyone you hang out with, yeah,”

“No, no, I don’t.” He clears his throat. “But did you know it’s—”

“Safer than shaking hands when it comes to the amount of pathogens transferred. I know.” You hold his hand firmly in yours. “Now we’re doing both.”

not proofread, like always. i'm trying to improve my characterization still so please forgive that it's still clumsy. i am also a stickler for cute awkward spence so. expect that too

1K notes · View notes

lizzyk137 · 9 days

Text

I CAN SEE YOU | Spencer Reid x FBI!Reader

Request: Congrats on 2k!!! Could you write something based off of ‘I can see you’ by Taylor Swift with Spencer please?

Description: Spencer may or may not have a little thing for the desk jockey on the floor below, and she may or may not have a thing for their silent elevator rides together.

Length: 1.2k

Warnings: fluff?? Season one Spencer in mind when I wrote this (my sweetest boy)

He passed through the lobby at the exact same time every day. Usually with his head dug in an obnoxiously thick book, or fiddling with the strap on his satchel bag, or flicking his long curls out of his sweet, hazelnut eyes. Sometimes with thick round glasses perched on his slender nose, sometimes nothing but a thoughtful, musing frown.

Not that she was obsessed with him.

But it wasn’t hard to acknowledge that whoever the guy on the sixth floor was that seemed to stick to an incredibly tight schedule had the face of a god.

Though she supposed he could say the same about her schedule seeing as they seemed to enter the elevator at nearly the exact same time every single day, never saying a word, a brief nod of hello was about the extent of their interaction. One time he had pressed the button for her floor, number five, for her, and she hadn’t stopped smiling the rest of the day.

Of course there were times he and his team would be away on a case, in which she wouldn’t see him for days on end, while she went to her lonely desk in forensics no matter what case had come up.

In the grand scheme of things, she was a desk jockey, inputting numbers and data and figures, organising files and sheets and loading ink into the printer. She was a nobody and he was part of the BAU.

No one would even notice if she didn’t show up for the day. At least that was what she hoped as she sped walked out of the cab, her hair soaking down her back, her lungs puffing in a crackling wheeze, frantically tucking her tight shirt into her dogtooth pants, limping on her ankle that she’d rolled racing out her apartment building into the raging storm that had overcome Virginia in a matter of hours.

She felt socks wet through as she squelched her way into the elevator, barely noticing the usual passenger that was tracing a bony finger down the page of Pride and Prejudice, quickly flicking over the page in a matter of five seconds.

He looked up when she hopped in beside him, squeezing in as a handful of other people followed her. Trying desperately to even her hair out in the large mirror behind them, it was only then she realised her mascara had smudged down her cheeks entirely, making her look like she’d slept in a pile of charcoal.

“Fuck,” She said loudly, her hand slapping over her mouth when she realise the deadly silent elevator full of federal agents turned to look at her, and she felt her cheeks heat as if her makeup condundrum hadn’t been embarrassing enough, “S-sorry,” She muttered, turning her head to the ground as she frantically wiped beneath her lids with her cardigan sleeve.

Turning to see if he had noticed, she caught him staring right at her, and she could have sworn the heat on her face blazed even harder when she saw he was smiling into his book in amusement.

Fuck. She repeated in her head this time, taking a small sigh of relief when the doors opened on the first floor and half the passengers trickled out onto the finance floor.

She was still fixing her hair by the time they got to the second floor, communications, and even more people got out. By the end of the third floor, it was just the two of them left.

“Bad morning?” He broke the silence, and it was the first time she’d ever actually heard his voice. He was even dreamier than she’d thought, in a boyish kind of way.

“Car battery died, and the bus was full,” She murmured, fiddling with the hem of her sleeves that were entirely sodden, “And then apparently someone up there hates to see pretty girls get to work looking dry and respectable,”

He chuckled properly, and she swore it soothed the ache of the cold rain just the smallest bit.

“Don’t we all,” He mused, though his eyes went back to his book, flicking over the words faster than she figured would be possible.

She figured he didn’t want to be bothered by the drowned rat looking woman that had all but thrown herself into the lift beside him, interrupting his reading with her curses and pitiful glances.

It was only when they reached the fourth floor that he quickly rooted around his bag for something, likely a bookmark since he didn’t seem the type to dog-ear a perfectly neat page. It wasn’t until a soft, moss green sweater was thrust in her face she snapped out of her self loathing daze.

Looking at him wide eyed, he nudged it towards her hands, and it was like Spencer only just realised that offering a stranger your clothes was perhaps not normal, but he didn’t feel like they were strangers.

She was the first person he’d ever met in the building besides Gideon. He remembered the two of them stepping into the elevator, the bashful woman already flicking through files, her lanyard hanging low over her chest as she chirped good morning to Gideon and he did the same, wishing her a good day when she stepped out onto floor five.

He couldn’t help if he was so perceptive he’d clocked her name and position written on her ID, couldn’t help it if he was a huge fan of routine and repetition, that he purposely walked into the lobby at the same time every day knowing she was going to be right behind him just for an excuse to see her.

No, they certainly weren’t strangers, Spencer tried to reason, yet he wasn’t even sure she knew his name.

“T-take it,” He stuttered, watching the doors close and the lift jolt as it ascended to her floor, “You can just bring it back tomorrow,”

“That’s- I couldn’t,” She reasoned, her eyes fretful, “It’s yours,”

“I’m not using it, you must be freezing,” Spencer reiterated it with another nudge towards her, and he saw the longing glance she gave at the promise of warmth.

Number five dinged above them, and the doors slid open.

“Just take it, please,” He said, and it seemed like that was the magic word as she cautiously took it out of his hand, and melted when she realised it was softer than she’d thought, like it was made to feel like a giant hug.

“Thankyou…” She said, heading for the doors with slow steps; she didn’t want to leave whatever moment he’d caught her in.

“Spencer,” He replied, smiling at her with a shy cadence.

“Thankyou, Spencer,” She said, and gave him her own name back. But he already knew it, and he realised he would sound like a complete creepy stalker if he’d said so. So he just nodded, a small wave off as she headed for her office and the doors closed behind her.

He loved how she said his name, he thought blissfully, but he loved even more showing up to work day after to see her waiting by the elevator, his sweater washed and ironed, pressed neatly in her hands and still warm from where she’d tumble dried it.

She handed it back to him with a sheepish smile, and he took it gracefully, catching a whiff of her fabric softener and felt fuzzy inside right there and then.

“Good morning, Spencer,” She said sweetly, and he swore he wanted to kiss her the minute it left her lips, glossed with something rouge and shiny.

But he didn’t, he just said it back, loving how her name rolled over his tongue.

1K notes · View notes

lizzyk137 · 10 days

Text

CROSS MY HEART | Spencer Reid x wife!Reader

Request: read here

description: Spencer's wife struggles with the aftermath of JJ's confession

length: 1.5k

warnings: JJ's 14x15 confession spoilers (big ick, pull yourself together Jennifer) infidelity, thoughts of worthlessness, reader thinks Spencer is going to leave her for JJ.

authors note: I have loved JJ for all of fourteen seasons and fourteen episodes. this was a BIG ICK for me watching this won't lie

She should have known something was wrong the minute they left that damn store.

It took her all of two seconds to throw herself into her husband’s arms, her voice choked with tears that had threatened to spill when she’d seen the video of Casey shooting at him, and she swore Spencer had never grabbed her so tight.

“I thought you,” She sniffled, running her fingers through the back of his scalp, the entire spanse of his huge hands ran along her spine, counting every vertebra to make sure she was still intact, despite the fact he had been the one held hostage, “I thought he’d shot you- it came so close,”

He hushed her mewls, a hand reaching to the back of her head and tucked her into his neck further, the sob rattling through her ribcage almost, almost, taking his mind entirely off what JJ had said in that stupid game of truth or dare.

What the fuck did she mean she had always loved him? She had a husband and children who doted on her; Will, who loved every shred of her being like it was his only purpose in the world. His godsons who had known him as uncle Spencer since he’d held them in the hospital, covered in goop and looking like the cutest little aliens he’d ever seen.

And yet JJ, his friend, perhaps one of his longest friends, was willing to throw it away for him? He, who had a wife he adored more than there were birds in the wind, leaves on an Autumn floor, more than there were galaxies in the damn cosmos. His wife, who had been there for him since the moment they’d met, who he’d known was the one since that first day she’d ran into him in the lobby, their files mixing together because neither of them had been watching where they were going, like one of those romcoms she forced him to watch and he pretended to hate, or like the silly thing she called fate that she insisted was very much real.

Spencer was a man of statistics and numbers and facts; things he could see. But he was sure there was nothing in any textbook that could have ever made sense of how the one person so perfectly created for him, the blob of cells that made up his wife that seemed to call to his own as if they were coming home to one another, would have just so happened to bump into him on a random Tuesday in August.

Most people waited decades for that kind of love, or something close, and he’d managed to get it at the ripe age of thirty three.

And yet in the space of ten seconds, of four little words in a wretched game, he felt like the carpet had been pulled from beneath him. Because why would JJ, who saw as clearly as anyone else how much he cherished his wife and the future they were planning together, try to take that away from him?

And as if his own odd spiral of thoughts wasn’t a kick to the gut enough, his sweet wife had quickly released him from her grasp and thrown herself at JJ, who seemed to just now be understanding the gravity of her words as she looked around with wide eyes, tear stains wetting her cheeks, the guilt gnawing in her gut already.

“JJ! Are you okay? Oh, you poor thing, you must have been so scared,” She sobbed, wrapping her friend in a loving hug that was shakily reciprocated, like JJ was waiting for the second she would get a fat shiner to the nose for confessing such a thing.

But that never happened. Instead, she pulled away from the frozen blonde woman, who looked like she could burst into tears then and there and apologise for everything until her face turned blue, and ran a kind hand over the JJ's hair, stroking it behind her ear tenderly as she tried to quell her cries because she wasn't the one who had been held at gunpoint.

She didn’t know. It hit them both at the same time. She didn’t know what JJ had said, hadn’t even got an inkling into what had happened, and god did it make the sinking feeling in Spencer’s chest swallow itself up into something the size of the Mariana Trench.

And what was left, what had for a second been a horrid mix of confusion, shock, fear and then another big dollop of confusion for good measure, quickly was dragged away by the current and replaced with anger.

Anger that JJ could do something like this to his wife; he frankly didn’t care how her words had affected him, that if he had been single he would have been left feeling unworthy of her affection the first time it had been offered around, like there was something so disgustingly wrong with him this was what it took for her to say anything. He didn’t care about any of that. He cared that this would absolutely destroy his wife.

And it was for that reason Spencer hurried the paramedics into fixing the small graze on his palm as he watched with boiling blood his wife tend to JJ like she would any other time her close friend was hurt in the field. He seethed whenever Jennifer would simper and avoid her friend's eyes, how his beautiful, caring, devoted wife would stroke the woman’s back and will her to talk, to tell her what to do to make it better.

Because it was her who should be fussing over his sweet wife, certainly not the other way around.

But he couldn’t say that, not there at least, and so he didn’t, not until he had got the greenlight from the medics to leave and he had all but cut off the circulation in her fingers with how tight he’d held her hand as he led her to the car.

Spencer said nothing, not wanting to fight when she forced him to sit shotgun as she climbed behind the wheel, not wanting to cause a commotion when there was a much bigger bombshell he was sitting on that he knew would change her feelings entirely.

“What?” Her voice was soft still, a murmur in the quiet night air of their bedroom. She sat, fresh faced, minty breathed, kevlar vest long gone and replaced with one of his old Dr Who shirts and comfy bottoms.

She said the word again, like she hadn’t heard him, but judging by the way her expression had fallen into something dejected, he knew that wasn’t the case.

Sighing, drawing gentle motions up and down her legs with his warm hands, shuffled closer where he kneeled down in front of her submittingly. “JJ said that she has always loved me; that was her ‘truth’ in the game,”

“Well, she-she was lying right?” His wife said quickly, her voice shaking, trying to make sense of it herself. She didn’t get an answer right away, just her husband’s eyes casting down as he tried to think of the best thing to say, “Right, Spencer?”

“I don’t know,” He said earnestly, and he saw immediately the way tears sprung to her eyes, her bottom lip trembling, her face warming in wet-anger, “But it doesn’t change anything, sweetheart. It doesn’t matter, to me- baby, please don’t cry,”

“Ofcourse it changes things, Spencer, it’s JJ. She’s literally the hottest woman to walk the earth, Pen said you were like in love with her when you started the BAU, and now you have your chance,” She whimpered, fat tears rolling over her freshly moisturised cheeks, and he swore he felt his chest concave at her words.

“My chance? I don’t want a chance, I want you,” Spencer said in earnest, his hands rubbing further and further up her legs until his hands went under her night shirt, grabbing onto the soft of her hips with pleading tenderness, “I want you forever, no matter what JJ or any other woman feels about me,”

She sniffled pitifully, her eyes still unsure and he took it as a sign she needed more, so he leaned in fully to hug her to him.

“But it’s JJ,” She said again, like that was going to change anything, and he shook his head, stroking over the back of her hair softly.

“I don't care,” He said, and she sniffed gently into the crook of his neck, his skin wetting with the contact. She finally wrapped her arms around him, and he knew he was close to getting it through to her, “I had the smallest crush on JJ, what, fifteen years ago? Honey, I want you for the rest of my life, and nothing and no one is going to change my mind about that, not even you.”

“Really?” His sweet wife whispered tearfully, and he chuckled sadly, hating how hard she had cried that it had ripped the life from her voice.

“Cross my heart,” He kissed her hairline softly, tipping her head upwards with one long, warm finger under her chin, pressing a gentle kiss to her wetted lips, “Hope I never die,”

She smiled sorrowfully, kissing her husband as if it was the last time she could ever do so, hoping it made up for how puffy and ugly her tears had made her face. But he didn’t care, he never had, he thought she was perfect just the way she was.

And he’d remind her of that any time she thought otherwise.

–

2K notes · View notes

lizzyk137 · 10 days

Text

convenient pt.5 | ·˚ ༘ spencer reid ,,

FINAL CHAPTER

pt 4 - (this a continuation, you must read every part for prior knowledge)

summary - it might be the last time you see the man who helped you write your biology report.

warnings - awkwardness, TINY fallout, i think spencer himself should be a warning but 🤷‍♀️

genre - college!fem!reader x earlyseasons!reid, fluffy, slight angst

a/n - last part. thank you for the support, seriously could not be more thankful. this was originally going to be a debut oneshot, and now i’ve got the longest taglist i’ve ever had and more followers than i could imagine. i hope you enjoy this last part, i hope it lives up to what you wanted it to be ❤️

spencer folds up the steel ladder and places it in the damp, cold storage room in the back of the convenience store. he watches you lock the whining store up before you meet eyes and he takes a step back. an invitation to walk with him, which you happily accept.

his hair is messier, and under the umbrella you stole from the store, the muted streetlight highlights his brown eyes to turn them golden. hidden freckles pop out in places, eyelashes seem delicate and dance-like.

simply beautiful.

spencer grabs you by the elbow and pulls you to him slightly, looking down at the concrete pathway. you look down and back, only then noticing the massive puddle you were one step away from.

his fingers slide off as you smile at him as a thanks. you elbow burns.

a letter you received a few days ago reminds you of a ticking clock and you suddenly feel a rush of adrenaline. you clear your throat before starting, “when will i know more about you?”

spencer placed his hand in his pocket, other hands fiddling with the umbrella. “when you ask more questions,” he answers with a nervous smile.

you nod, arms crossing. “cats or dogs?”

“both?”

you glare but accept it and continue, “how many siblings do you have?”

“0. why does this matter? why do you want to know more about me?”

“well you already know how many siblings i…” you stop in your tracks, and he looks you up and down concerned. “spencer… i never told you i have a brother.”

a wave of anxiety takes over you, eyes wandering the man, heart beating at an alarming rate. you felt like a switch had been flipped in you by the revelation.

he blinks and takes a deep breath, avoiding eye contact with you once you raise your head. “how did you know my brothers name was ricky, spencer?”

the stranger shuddered at the vermin you attached to his name in confusion. he fumbled over his thoughts, looking around before he felt the umbrella get snatched from his hands. you steps splashed and echoed down the empty mornings street. but all the man could hear was a breaking heartbeat.

you shook the white umbrella off before stepping out of the small elevator, jumping in fright when you were met by logan’s blushed face. and a certain blonde man’s as well. your eyes danced between the both of them, ricky’s hair a mess, before you rolled your eyes and shoved a brass key in your paint-chipped apartment door.

“y/n, what happened?” logan called anxiously.

“i’ll tell you in the morning.” you opened your door.

“technically it’s-“

“shut it, ricky. and fix your hair before anyone else sees you.”

the slam of your door echoed down the apartment hallway, but not in your dark apartment. suddenly your home was quiet and lonely, drab and wet. a drizzle started outside and before you could feel bad you took the umbrella from spencer, you reminded yourself that you had nearly fallen for a stranger.

you dropped your keys on the kitchen counter and headed to your bathroom, rubbing your tired hands over your face in disbelief.

your heart wouldn’t stop yelling in your ears, you felt unsafe in your own home.

and yet the person who caused you to feel endangered was the only person you wanted to comfort you.

you couldn’t forget about spencer, even when he didn’t show up for 5 days.

every time the bell rang at the opening of the store’s door, you glanced up immediately. wanting? yearning? fear? you didn’t know, you never knew. the woman who had the shift before you was out the door before you could talk, though you were somewhat thankful. these days you wanted everything but to talk to people.

as soon as you sat down, pulled the company vest over your purple sweater, and grabbed the sticky note left by the previous worker - isla, or isabelle, her name tag was old - a lady in bright pink layers and bright pink hair clips stomped towards the counter.

great, you thought, two minutes into the shift and i’ve already got a complaint. you should’ve expected it, as it seemed an unlucky streak was beginning.

she placed her loudly coloured purse on the counter and suddenly- smiled?

“y/n?” her voice was sweet, high, like a hug.

“yes?”

and then it dropped, and she placed her hands delicately but passive-aggressively on the counter top.

“first off i would like to say, you are a gorgeous woman, and you work purple like no other- but your actions?”

you had no idea where this was going.

“my boy is sad because of you. he worked hard to start talking to you, to keep talking to you and oh, because i got excited my little genius might have a love interest in his little comic book of craziness you get all, ew he knows everything about me and i know nothing about him and i-. oh. yeah that is creepy.”

you nod, it’s about spencer.

“he is an amazing agent,”

agent?

“and he incredibly smart, and he’s a little cutie! spencer likes you very much, i thought he was going insane when he would suddenly start smiling out of no where while looking at crime scene photos.”

crime scene?

“he did not ask me to do a background check on you, that is completely my fault. i was feeling very protective and wanted to make sure he wasn’t being catfished somehow or tricked into a cult- which isn’t that far from what we deal with everyday-“

“everyday?”

“yeah well- oh.” she covers her pink lips, “oh honey. he didn’t tell you what he does for a living?”

an old couple and two teenagers were eavesdropping now. you nearly forgot you were working.

“he told me he couldn’t say… he’s an agent?” you fiddled with the forgotten note and furrow your eyebrows.

“fbi.”

you felt like you had lost half your body you felt so light, so free. you let yourself smile for the first time since last night, and place a hand over your mouth. spencer likes you very much. finally something made sense.

“that’s why he knew my brothers name?”

“i am so sorry, i totally over stepped and he is like a baby giraffe when it comes to girls. which doesn’t say much because you’re like the first girl he’s been interested in like,” she starts counting on her finger before you interrupt.

“it’s okay. you can tell spencer i forgive him, or something like that. i’m like a baby giraffe as well.” you say repeating her simile back at her.

she giggles at the connection and picks up her purse, smile wide on her sunny face.

“you can tell him later, they come home from arizona tonight.”

you locked the store doors, heart thudding as your count down was ticking down. you had just finished your last shift.

taking a few steps back, crossing your arms to huddle in the knitted sweater, your eyes wandered over the familiar store.

the store’s name in bright fluorescents, the security doors that didn’t actually have a working sound alarm (nobody but the employees knew), the weeds in the pavement and the flickering street lamp just to the left. so many conversations happened under that light, it seemed to be convenient.

“y/n?”

you spin on your feet, a breeze of all too familiar cologne greeting you before the sight of the tall man. his face was air washed, slightly blushed and smooth but chiseled. brown hair waved in front of his eyes in the misty breeze, a purple scarf warming his neck on top of an untidy suit. he was simply handsome. so goddamn handsome.

his eyes wandered your presence. his favourite colour on you, your hair pushed back into a loose ponytail with the two pieces at the front falling out, the cold air reddening your nose. you were unforgettable to him.

“hi spencer.”

he sighed with relief at the sound of his name, no anger attached, only longing. he slowly approached you, fully taking your attention away from the store. “you’re not angry at me any more, for stalking you?”

you smirked, “technically you didn’t stalk me.” he raised an eyebrow and cocked his head. “i talked with one of your friends.”

“penelope.” you nodded, the name matching the face perfectly. he smiled to himself and took another step forward, a metre away. “i’m sorry i didn’t try to stop her, and for listening to her when i didn’t.” he replied, sincerity evident through the slightly pained expression he looked at you with.

“it’s fine, spence.”

spencer held his breath for a second, the nickname seeming so special and seamless coming from your mouth. you glanced back at the store, a pang of sadness hitting you before you rocked on your feet. “i should probably get home.”

“no!” spencer winced at his voice, hand reached out and hovering unconsciously, “sorry, you can- i’m not- uh. you should totally-“

“spencer i’m not going to be working here anymore.” you interrupt, receiving a surprised expression in return. “i got an offer to work in a lab with one of the top researchers in my course. so,” you thinned your lips and closed your eyes for a second in an attempt to call on some courage, “i really really need you to ask me out. right now. or i’m totally going to embarrass myself and attempt to do it, and i really don’t think you want that- trust me i do not have any-“

“i’ll ask you out then.” he took a smaller step forward, you adjusted your head to look up. he was so tall. “right now.” you gulped, he fiddled with his fingers with his eyebrows furrowed. it brought out those lines that were permanent not too long ago. “which by the way, you have every right to say no to this question. a-and i was really hoping we would be in a brighter and cleaner- and more romantic- place right now but with the circumstances and how i kind of told you i was going to do this anyways, i feel like i owe you it to you right now and i want to as well um-“

you stepped forward, chests centimetres apart. you could feel his breath on yours as you placed a hand on the previously bruised cheek, other hand grabbing him by the purple scarf, bringing him down softly to meet you in the middle.

“i’ll go out with you, spencer.” you whisper into his lips.

you smiled before kissing him lightly, his hands stopping for a millisecond before one appeared on your waist and the other on your rosy cheek. his heartbeat was thumping in his ears, a rush of happiness causing a wide smile to mix into the kiss. you couldn’t help but mirror it. you pulled away, returning flat on your feet as spencer followed, neck craning before taking his own breath.

“you will?” spencer croaked, cheeks and ears reddening. you nodded feverishly, “that’s great- that’s um.” his hand dropped to your arm, eyes wandering over your face in disbelief he actually pulled this whole thing off. sorta.

maybe it was the fact he would’ve never seen you again that scared him into mumbling, maybe it was the fact he had been yearning for weeks now. maybe it was the fact you admitted you were going to ask him out anyways, maybe it was a biology report you needed help with.

“walk me home, spence?” you grinned, dropping your arm to link with his, body heat embracing the two of you. he turned with you, steps becoming slowly synchronised. and although he had to awkwardly bend his arm at the unfamiliarity at the gesture, spencer felt more comfortable than he could ever imagine.

“so, bookstore? weekend?” he asked sheepishly, looking down at you.

“sure thing.” you reply, bringing him closer and squeezing his arm in happiness.

spencer, definitely nerdy enough.

you hid behind spencer’s kitchen counter, glancing over at emily, garcia and jj and copying their cheeky grins. having your boyfriend work with a found family had its perks, especially when they accept you instantly.

aaron hotchner, the man you had grown less afraid of over the months, was peeling out of spencer’s bedroom door, before he quickly moved out of sight.

the door rattled, it clicked, it opened.

“happy birthday!!!” everyone screamed. spencer was rigid but stood with a great smile, cheeks red and eyes wide.

“hey guys.” he croaked in surprise.

you slowly walked to him with his birthday cake as morgan slipped a birthday hat on the younger man.

spencer looked at you with stars in his eyes, hands itching to hug you like he usually does when he sees you. you placed the cake down, gave him a peck on the cheek and told him, “make a wish, spence.”

and he blew out the candles promptly. and he wished a million wishes. most if not all, being about you.

taglist: @jeffswh0re @hypotheticallyspeakingwitch @wannabewolf @evysian @navs-bhat @mywellspringoflife @daphnesutton @smalls155 @anuncalledbridge @tatilolz @criminalmindsandhouse @forensicuntology @nomajdetective @screechingphantommaker @c-losur3 @ackermans-angel @lovelyygirl8 @random-kimmy @leabunny @cultish-corner @doigettokeepyou @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @wenttohogwarts @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @drewsandsebastianswife @hoeshissworld @flow33didontsmoke @bookworm124 @violetvsworld @amethyst-marie368 @lizzyk137 @so-chill-mochill @fwzco @queermaxwooo @willywowka @jasf444 @trashmonstersara @amortencjja @belsreid @redmurderbaby @ilikw @v1ckycheesue @scarlettssub @fictionlurker @momooooca @yaboohah @phiadc @the1eyedmonster16 @hinataboke

192 notes · View notes

lizzyk137 · 11 days

Note

Ok two words:

shower sex…multiple 🤭

(that’s more than two words but you get the point)

(18+) fem reader. 1.6 k. Fingering. Shower sex.

Your idea of showering together to save time doesn’t work out as you planned.

"What are you doing?" Spencer shrieked as you joined him in the shower out of nowhere. He was enjoying his moment of peace when you suddenly barged in, completely naked.

"This is your fault!" You snapped, letting the water wash over you, facing away from him. "You should've woken me up."

He sighed. "I did try, you didn't even move."

"Well, you should've tried harder," you shot back.

Spencer took a step back, his gaze fixed on the tiled wall. Despite the crazy, kinky sex you had in the bedroom, he couldn't shake the discomfort of showering together. For him, it was a private time for self-cleaning, and the thought of you watching him wash away all the dirt off his body made him feel oddly self-conscious.

You always told him that he didn't need to feel that way, that you were his partner, and you've already seen each other at your worst. Though he was still persistent and there was nothing you could do but to respect his boundaries.

But now, as he stole a glance at you, he realized he had been too preoccupied with his discomfort and insecurity to even consider how you would look under the flow of water.

Or how much it affected him.

Because it was affecting him so, so much. He could feel a wave of heat surging through him to his lower body. The water flowed effortlessly over your curves as you began to lather soap onto your skin, and unable to resist any longer, he moved closer, his hand naturally finding its way down your back.

"You missed a spot," he breathed out, his voice lower than he intended. You turned to him with a smile, unaware of the effect you had on him.

"Thanks, baby," you replied, the innocence in your tone contrasting with the sudden tension in the air. His breath hitched as he unconsciously licked his lips, his hands exploring your slippery skin with a sense of urgency. His palm traced the curve of your waist before boldly circling around to your front.

You froze, your heart pounding in your chest as his hand came dangerously close to the lower curve of your breasts.

"...Spence?"

Without a word, his palms brushed over your breasts, cupping them with a mixture of firmness and tenderness that sent a shiver down your spine. Your body responded involuntarily, your nipples hardening under his touch, leaving you speechless.

You had always respected his boundaries, never wanting to invade his personal space in the bathroom. But this morning was different; you had overslept, and in your rush, you assumed he wouldn't mind if you barged in, even if it meant facing away from him to give him some privacy.

Although having his hands explore your body was the last thing you expected, and when you felt him inching closer, his arousal pressing against your back, you swiftly turned around.

"Nope. Nuh-uh," you said firmly, attempting to give him your best glare, but his semi-hard cock was undeniably distracting. "This is not the time."

His fingers continued to trace your wet stomach, causing you to shiver at his touch. "Why not?"

"B-Because," you stammered, your breath catching as his fingers edged closer between your thighs. "I'm already late."

"Exactly," he countered. "You're already late anyway."

The water fell around your body, washing away the suds as his fingertips slipped between your folds, and despite the water, he could feel the slickness of your arousal coating his skin.

You gasped at the sudden contact, feeling a surge of pleasure shoot through you. Your eyes fluttered shut as he dipped just the tip of his middle finger inside your warmth, savoring the wetness that coated his finger before tracing a path up to your clit. A breathy moan escaped your lips.

"I-I thought you don't like showering together," you managed to say.

His lips curved into a smile. "I'm beginning to see the appeal."

Your body slumped against the wall as he applied more pressure to your clit, pleasuring you with slow, deliberate circles. "Baby..." you breathed out, your mind clouded with desire even as you tried to focus on the time. "I'm late for work."

"I know," He murmured. "That's why I'm helping you clean up."

"I-I really need to get to work."

"And you will," he assured you. "But I need you to spread your legs first. Got to clean all the spots."

You hesitated for a moment, but with a shaky exhale, you finally complied, parting your legs as he requested, giving him access to every inch of your skin. Your head fell back against the wall, a soft moan escaping your lips as you struggled to maintain your composure when his finger slipped into your heat.

Your hand instinctively reached out, gripping around his wrist as he began to pump his digit inside your dripping walls. A gasp escaped your lips at the sensation of him filling you, and he couldn't help but let out a low groan of pleasure at how tight you were clenching around him.

"Oh god," you moaned, feeling him quickening his pace. The sound of your wetness mingling with the rushing water enveloped you both, drowning out any thoughts of being late for work. All that mattered was the sensation of his hand between your thighs, driving you closer to the edge.

Then, to your disappointment, he suddenly pulled back and you whimpered at the loss, but before you could protest, he pulled your thigh up to rest on his hip before gripping himself in his hand. You bit your bottom lip, your body trembling with desire as he pumped a few times, while he positioned himself at your soaked entrance.

Every nerve in your body hummed with anticipation as the tip of him slipped inside your warmth. His lips met yours in a passionate kiss as he began easing himself further in, inch by inch, and you couldn't suppress the moan against his mouth upon feeling him stretching you.

He sank himself all the way inside your heat, giving you a moment to adjust as he ran his tongue over your bottom lip, coaxing a soft sigh from you before slipping inside to caress yours. Then you felt his hips begin to move with light, sensual motions, with one hand gripping your thigh firmly, as the other held your body against the wall by your hip.

“Tell me how that feels,” he encouraged you, nipping at your lips between words and taking his time with his pace, and suddenly you didn’t care you were supposed to be in a rush.

“So... so good,” you whimpered breathlessly, feeling him slowly draw his hips away, only to glide back in even slower. He repeated the motion as if he wanted to etch into his memory the way your walls tightened around him with every thrust, as if he wanted to keep in his mind forever the way your lips parted as moans filled his ears.

You held onto his shoulder, your nails digging into his skin and he could sense your desperation as he quickened his pace. His hand then slipped between your thighs, his thumb finding your clit before rubbing gentle circles around it.

You let out a filthy cry.

He pumped into you even harder, the rhythm of his thrusts becoming more frantic as he lost himself in the escalating pleasure all the while his thumb worked your sensitive nub even faster, sending sparks of pleasure coursing through your body. The sensations overwhelmed you, and your legs began to shake with the sheer intensity of it all.

"Yes—fuck," you moaned, your voice a desperate plea for more.

"You feel so good," he groaned out the words, his mouth inches away from yours, his breath hot against your skin as his hips continued to move in perfect rhythm with yours. "God, I love you."

Just as you were about to reply, the overwhelming pleasure consumed you as your jaw slackened, unable to form words as pleasure coursed through your veins, causing your legs to twitch uncontrollably. You whined, lost as the sensation consumed you, but soon, it became too much to bear and you tiredly pushed his hand away.

Watching you come undone around him was just enough to push him over the edge. He held your body close, still thrusting into you, the rhythm of his movements matching the frantic beat of his heart. With a final, exhilarating surge, he tilted his head back in pure bliss, his body trembling as he surrendered to the overwhelming pleasure of release.

He exhaled a sigh of relief as his heartbeat gradually subsided, finally pulling out of you to leave you feeling empty, shaking, and still holding onto him for support. The water had grown cold, beating against your skin and causing you to shiver against his chest. Sensing your discomfort, he turned the faucet, shutting off the shower.

"You okay?" he asked softly, his eyes filled with concern as he looked at you, making sure you didn’t slip against the slick tiles.

You nodded your head, offering him a small, reassuring smile. "Yeah," you assured him, placing your leg back on the ground. "You're a bad influence, you know that?"

He chuckled, the sound echoing in the now quiet bathroom. "I'll take that as a compliment," he replied as he reached out to wrap his arms around you, pulling you close against his chest.

You nestled into his embrace, feeling the steady beat of his heart against yours. "It's not," you countered, looking up at him. "I'm too late now, I think I have to call in sick."

He tilted his head and held your gaze. "What if I call in sick too?"

A smile tugged at your lips as you considered his suggestion. "That could work," you said, the idea of spending the day together sounding more appealing by the second. You pulled him in for a kiss. "That could definitely work."

2K notes · View notes

lizzyk137 · 11 days

Text

YOU'RE TOO SWEET FOR ME | Spencer Reid x Sunshine!Reader

Request: @avis-writeshq says -

HELLO HELLO jumping on your 2k celebration reqs because 2K OMG SO DESERVED ‼️🫶

may i perhaps request a spencer reid x fem!reader fic please 🥹 maybe him post prison w new reader and she follows him around everywhere because she’s just instantly enamoured to him 🤭

thank you so so much lovely and congrats again !!!

Description: thirteen years in the fbi and ten weeks in prison does a number on Spencer, only when he arrives back in the office he meets the sunshine rookie that seems rather taken with him.

word length: 2.6k (this really ran away from me)

warnings: post-prison Reid, slightest age gap, Spencer dealing with coming home from prison, gun shooting?

authors note: hozier’s new song 'Too Sweet' + post-prison reid is a need, not a want.

He smelled her french vanilla perfume before he even knew she was there. But then again, it was all he could smell the minute she waltzed into the office with a tray of coffee, like someone had stuck a sweet dessert in the oven and baked it on full.

“Good morning!” She chirped, winding an arm over his shoulder and setting down a take out cup and a little chocolate donut on his desk, “Pen said you like chocolate, and I mean who doesn’t like chocolate, right?”

She was potent when she was so close to him, and in one single breath he caught a whiff of her shampoo, before she had flitted over to her side of the desk that sat opposite his, where Morgan once sat. Noticing his hesitance, mistaking it for discontent she paused, almost spilling her own beverage over the potted plant she kept by her keyboard, scrambling to set it on the surface.

“Y-you do like chocolate right? I mean they had strawberry too, I can switch yours with JJ’s, I’m sure she wouldn’t mind-” She splurged, and her face was much too worried considering it was a matter of a donut, particularly considering he was already eying up the way the thick chocolate was melting in the pastry bag.

“Chocolate is great, I love…” He held up the bag to read the label with squinting hazel hues, “Cocoa Caramel delight,”

He had never heard of it.

He had never even seen this brand, but he wanted to quell her nerves even in the slightest. The BAU didn’t have the funds for a new keyboard, let alone time to send her to the ER if she ended up spilling her coffee over her hand.

She seemed convinced, and he offered her a small smile, not exactly his most enthusiastic, but then again he hadn’t been much of a morning person since he’d come out of prison. He liked quiet, he liked a moment to himself before Penelope called them into the round table for briefing. But she was sweet, too sweet perhaps for the dark nature of their job.

He could already see it chewing up her perky disposition and spitting her right back out within a year. It happened to the best of them.

But she smiled back at him, a million watt grin that made him think maybe he was being a little cruel. She was still brand new, still trying to make friends and he remembered how hard he tried when it had been his first few weeks on the team. He turned his gaze away from her in shame, reading the way she’d written his name on the cup in a pink sharpie, framing it with two doodle hearts.

She all but skipped away, sensing he didn’t feel like talking much anymore, and he heard Emily exclaiming she was ‘A caffeine angel sent from the heavens,’ as she handed her the drink. He watched her braided hair disappear down the hall as she bounced over to Penelope’s lair.

He picked at the cocoa caramel delight with a kind of self loathing he was familiar with, the french vanilla still a saccharine sugar in his nose.

She caught him again; though this time he felt her bristle past his arm, watching the bullets pierce the target paper with an accuracy that only came from fourteen years of practice.

“Do you reckon you could teach me how to do that?” Her cadence was light and airy, and he had to stop himself from jumping, from slamming the butt of the gun into her nose on reaction, because he knew she meant well, even though she had no idea how damaged he was.

He was still out of sorts from having to look over his shoulder at every second of the day, and he was surprised he was holding it together so far. He supposed shooting the shit out of a target helped.

Because it was just her, looking at him with soft eyes and a smile that could start wars, and he knew she had no idea the effect she had on the walls he’d tried so hard to build in prison.

She must have mistook his look for annoyance, because she was quick to fumble with her own loaded gun, taking a step back in retreat, worried that she crossed some line she didn’t know he’d drawn.

“Or I could get Luke to show me, I didn’t mean to bother you, I just am really a shit shot and I know that’s pretty useless in the field-” It wasn’t until he flicked the safety on and took a step to follow her did she look at him again hopefully.

“No, I’d be more than happy to show you,” He cleared his throat, setting his pistol in its holster and stepping behind her as she lined herself up for the fake body meant to resemble an unsub, “We all have to start somewhere. Show me your form,”

She raised her arms up in front of her, aiming for a few seconds for the spot in the centre of the chest cavity, her finger reaching up for the trigger.

She shot once, her face hardened for the first time he’d ever seen, and they both watched the paper rip about half a foot down the unsub’s leg.

“See, in my head it’s hitting dead centre and then by the time I shoot it’s wiggling all over the place,” She explained, scratching her neck and frowning at the paper body, “I don’t suppose unsubs are willing to stand still and wait while the rookie figures out her shot,”

“Your hips are perfect, wide stance means you get more stability against the ricochet,” She tried not to simper at his words, or the way he sidled up behind her, his hands coming up to her shoulders as if he’d known her for years, as if JJ hadn’t told her how much he hated other people’s germs, “It’s in your shoulders you’re losing balance, try relaxing a little,”

But she couldn’t not when he was breathing down her neck, rubbing those long fingers over her shoulder blades trying to get her to straighten out her posture, hoping he couldn’t feel the way her chest rattled with nerves.

“Relax,” He reminded, trying not to chuckle when he felt her shake her arms out as a means of hiding the way her skin had warmed under his rough touch, “You know, my unit chief taught me how to shoot. I wasn’t at all good at it when I first started,”

“Oh really?” She asked, her breaths feather light as he reached around her and adjusted her grip on the gun, “H-he must have been a good teacher,”

“He was the best,” Spencer agreed, brushing off the fact she was all but putty beneath his hands, “Three steps for the perfect shot; front sight, trigger press, follow through. Always keep your head forward, always keep your dominant finger ready, and wait until you’ve shot to drop your stance,”

She looked up at him in admiration, and her soft smile was back as his own musk of laundry detergent and chamomile soap encompassed her as his arms did.

He brought one of those big hands to the back of her head, moving her with gentle ease to look back at the target, a slight chuckle in his voice as he spoke: “Focus, what’s step number one?”

“Front sight,” She echoed him, fixing her shoulders with determination as he dropped his hands and stepped away from her. Taking a deep breath, she murmured to herself under her breath the next step as her forefinger rested over the trigger. She pulled it after a moment of courage, and froze in spot as she watched it hit where the stomach would sit.

Not a perfect shot, but certainly a lot better than she had been doing.

Her eyes widened behind the thick protective glasses, and her hands became fists above her head as she squealed in delight.

“Did you see that- did you see!” She yelled over the sound proof ear muffs they both wore, and he was quick to grab the gun out of her swinging arms, clicking the safety on for her before she could end up blowing a hole in the ceiling.

“Very good, give it a few months you’ll be a natural,” He complimented with a smile as she clapped her hands in glee, buzzing on the spot as if she’d chugged five energy drinks or doubled up on her coffee for the day.

He tried ignoring the way his chest warmed seeing her so happy because of him, especially when she looked at him like that.

“You said you needed those files, Dr Reid,” She’d appeared again, like she always did, and he had barely enough time to glance up from the paper he was already inspecting before he was hit by the perfume again, and he looked up to see two bright eyes watching him hopefully. Her arms were piled high with easily a box full of folders he had asked Anderson to find for him, and he saw the way she strained slightly to keep them held tight.

“Jesus! Let me help you,” She prayed he couldn’t feel the way her heart thumping against the manilla folders as he leaned over to take them out of her grasp, the way her eyes fell to his light smattering of facial hair as his lips were little more than a few inches from hers. Even when his hands brushed hers, and he seemed to realise she was staring, watching her scramble to look somewhere else other than his amused eyes, embarrassed he’d caught her, “Thankyou. And just call me Spencer,”

“Thankyou,” She echoed, shaking her head with a girlish smile on her face, her cheeks warm with humiliation, “I mean you’re welcome, any time,”

For the sake of her self preservation he waited until she turned around to smile to himself, pretending he didn’t see the way she muttered under her breath, or that she almost walked straight into the filing cabinet on her hasty exit out of the office.

“Seems like you have a shadow,” Emily’s voice met him as he heard her heeled footsteps approach, and they both watched their newest team mate almost bump right into JJ as she kept her head down, stroking her hair nervously, “She was super excited to meet you when you were away, said she went to one of your guest lectures you did with Hotch a couple years ago,”

His brows shot into his hairline, something warm flourishing in his chest when he saw her peek back to see the two of them watching her, and she immediately darted for her seat for an excuse to turn her back to them.

Spencer smiled again, running a hand through his curled locks as if he was trying to think of something else other than the joy that had over come his features.

She certainly was charming, in an incredibly girlish way, and he wasn’t the only one who thought it. He hadn’t heard Penelope giggling so much since Morgan had left, nor did he miss the way Rossi and Emily watched her darting around in the field, chasing after her as if she needed one of those leashes people had for toddlers.

Or the way Luke had had to talk her out of bringing a stray cat back to the BAU just two days ago because ‘it looked sad and lonely’.

She was only eight years his junior, and yet he felt like the job had made him too hard, too mature, too tough against a softness like hers.

Girls had never really been interested in him, at least not for him as Spencer Reid, not as SSA Dr Reid. He had the occasional fling, even Maeve in the grand scheme of things had been a budding romance at best, and just the thought of Cat Adams viper-like eyes had him shuddering.

He barely wanted anything to do with women at the moment, at least that was what he’d told himself every night he’d been fighting for his damn life in prison.

But it was almost too easy to feel this way about her, like he couldn’t drink in her sweet smell or even sweeter voice fast enough, or bathe in her gaze that melted like rich chocolate when he took a glance her way.

He didn’t bring it up with her until they were the last few people filing out of the office.

“I can drive you,” She chirped, almost dropping the contents of her bag everywhere as she rooted for her car keys, and before he could protest, because it was like all he could see now was how eager to be around him she was and he wasn’t too sure he could keep himself from opening pandora’s box, she jingled her keys, that of course had crochet bluebells hanging from them and all but danced past him into the elevator. “Come on, you can have shotgun,”

“I’ll be the only passenger, doesn’t that mean I automatically have shotgun?” He asked, following behind her as she stood in the elevator with a beaming smile, her finger clicking the ground floor button a bunch of times even though it made no difference how fast the doors closed.

“Well, yeah, but it’s going to be the best shotgun you’ve ever had. I’m talking you can be Miss Daisy and I’ll be your Morgan Freeman,” And as if her spirit was infectious, he shook his head with a hidden chuckle.

There was a minute of silence between the two as she played with a loose thread on her cardigan, and it was then he took the chance to ask her the question that had been burning on his lips all day.

“You didn’t by any chance go to University of Pennsylvania, did you?” Spencer asked, noting the way her eyes fell to the floor and how she licked her lips nervously.

“Yeah,” She replied cautiously, fingers clenched tightly around her keyring, “I know it’s not Caltech, but it was pretty good-”

“Didn't you see my lecture with Hotch?” He asked, and his smile widened tenfold when her hands slapped over her cheeks that burned with horror, moving quickly up to cover her eyes, “Little birdy told me you were quite excited to meet me-”

“Oh, Emily,” She groaned, burying her face in her palms, avoiding his teasing expression like the plague, “I knew, I knew she was going to tell you, I’m surprised she didn’t tell JJ first, unless she did and our whole team know I was some crazy girl who liked the FBI agents so much she switched her major,”

“You switched your major for me?” He asked incredulously and he only laughed harder, one of the first times since he’d come home, when she groaned louder, turning away from him entirely.

“Shut up, I did not swap my major for you,” She bit back, and she finally met his gaze, her expression an embarrassed wince, “I just… liked the material. You were very compelling,”

“Did you have a poster of us?” Spencer wanted to stop teasing, knew he was being a little cruel, but how could he resist when she shrieked in between laughter, shoving his shoulder with mortification.

“No,”

“Did you kiss Hotch’s picture before bed like an obsessive fangirl?”

She gestured to him vulgarly as they left the elevator and headed for the car park, and it made a huge difference to the usual adoration she watched him with, but maybe, he thought, it made him like her even more.

“No more shotgun for you, you’re going in the trunk like an old rug,” She snapped, though he could tell she was still horrified by the way she avoided his delighted hazelnut gaze.

“Like an old rug?” He feigned hurt, but when they sat in her car, she finally looked over at him with something vulnerable and yet affectionate, like he’d seen her for all she was worth. He reached over the console to squeeze her hand gently, not missing the way her palm clammed beneath his and she struggled for words, so he continued for her, “That’s really no way to talk to your idol, you know,”

Spencer swore his chest felt lighter than it had in months watching her laugh like that.

2K notes · View notes

lizzyk137 · 11 days

Text

Between Us Pt 5

Summary: You and Spencer had a casual relationship. A misunderstanding ruins it all.

Pairing: Spencer Reid × F. BAU Reader

Warnings: Friends with benefits. Angst. Pregnancy.

See my Masterlist Here

Part 4

“Pregnant? How did this happen? I mean, I know how it happened but - Wow!” He runs over to you, placing one large had on your nonexistent bump. “I can’t believe we are pregnant. How far along are we?” Anger and disbelief surge through you.

“First of all, I am pregnant. Me, not you.” Spencer’s smile drops, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.” You sigh, this was a better reaction than you were expecting. You thought he would freak out. Although, you aren’t sure why. Spencer loves kids. He was never mean to you before. He wasn’t like the guys you normally dated.

“No, I’m sorry. These hormones are ridiculous. I know what you meant. And to answer your other question, the doctor said about six weeks. But, that was over a week ago. I’m probably almost eight weeks now. I have an ultrasound scheduled for the end of the week if you would like to come with me.” He looks hopeful, nodding his head as his smile widens. “Of course I would love to go. This is great. I gotta call my mom. I’ll clean out my spare bedroom so we can turn it into a nursery. I’ll need help moving some of my things into storage so we will have room for your stuff too. Maybe Morgan will help.”

“Wait, my stuff?” You ask, interrupting his rambling. “Yeah, you’ll be bringing your stuff too. You can put what we don’t have room for in storage with my things.” You cross your arms, preparing to argue. “Why would I bring my stuff to your place?” Spencer scrunches up his nose, “Because you’ll be living there?” He looks just as confused as you are.

“I’m not moving in with you, Spencer. Your spare bedroom is too small for me and the baby. There’s not enough room. Plus, you don’t need me there with our baby. That would be so hard to explain when you bring women home.” You mentioned other women because you were fairly certain his relationship with Ashley wouldn’t last. You place your hands on your hips, trying to understand his silly logic.

“I thought you could sleep with me, and the baby would have their own room. Why would I bring women home when I’m dating you?” Your eyes feel like they are going to pop out of your head. “Spencer, we aren’t dating.”

“But, I thought we would be a family now that you’re pregnant.” He explains. “We will be a family, but one that coparents. You’re going to be a great dad, Spence. I would never keep your baby from you. But, this doesn’t change anything between us. You didn’t want me before, and I don’t like that you only want me now because you got me pregnant.”

“But that’s not why I-“ “I don’t want to argue about this. We are really good friends and I would like it to stay that way for the baby.” “Okay.” He agrees, but you can tell you hurt his feelings, so you change the subject to what you will need for the baby.

You make a list, putting double the items down since Spencer will keep them at his apartment too. He’s going to ask for a leave for the first two months after the baby is born so he doesn’t miss anything. He will be staying at your apartment during those months. When he’s comfortable enough to have the baby alone, you will work out a new schedule.

Spencer orders some parenting books for the both of you online. He is so excited. You’re thankful that he’s the father, he’s a great guy. You just wish it could have worked between the two of you. “How are you going to tell Ashley? I don’t think it will go well.” You tell him, scrunching your face up. His face falls, “I forgot about Ashley.”