#samuel de champagne problems 300 followers

[samuel-de-champagne-problems]

I Can't Help It If You Look Like an Angel

Summary: Spencer is not that kind of doctor, but he'll always come when Y/N needs him, even if germs are involved.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem Reader

Warnings: One cuss (sh!t), kisses, small insecurities

Word Count: 2.5 k (was not supposed to be this long but I'm a monster)

Author's Note: From this list (3, 12, 14) since I hit 300 followers! Thank you! This request is from @willowrose99 (look for the bold)

I Can't Help It If You Look Like an Angel

Spencer’s half done with his third book that weekend when his phone rang. A weekend spent in the company of Nietzsche and Sartre is, according to Spencer at least, a weekend well spent. He can feel the relaxation that settles in his bones come crashing down as he phone rings.

Thinking it’s Hotch calling the team in for an unexpected case, Spencer, lethargically, walks over to answer the phone. However, realizing the caller is not his boss pulling him away from a restful weekend, but Y/N, his heart rushes with a sudden urge of excitement.

“Y/N,” Spencer starts. He’s more than happy to have Y/N interrupt his weekend; they even made plans for a day out on Saturday at the new Anthropology museum that opened downtown. But all of Spencer’s made up plans fall in front of his face, as he hears Y/N’s quiet sniffles.

“Spencer, I’m so sorry to bother you. I know that you’re probably enjoying your rest, but I guess I have a cold. One of the kids at school, I suppose,” Y/N tells him in between sniffles. Her voice is scratchy and Spencer tries not to think about how his brain seems to short circuit at the way his name sounds.

“I’m coming over,” Spencer says, cutting her off. He doesn’t like doing that, in fact he hates when that happens to him, but right now he knows that Y/N is going to try her hardest to stop him from coming over.

“No Spence, it’s germs. You hate germs and I’m really gross and snotty and—”

“Stop, Y/N. Don’t say another word. I’m on my way” Spencer says. He feels a little guilty for hanging up on her, but he knows that if he stayed on the line any longer she’d end up convincing him that he didn’t need to rush over. There’s not a lot of people in this world that can convince Spencer to change his mind, and he’s pretty sure that Y/N is one of them.

Spencer walks into his bedroom, looking for some supplies like a man on a mission. He decides to pack a small bag for the next three days. He’s off from work anyway, why not spend that time making sure Y/N gets better. Spencer packs away a couple of sweaters, flannel pajama pants and two thermal shirts. In the back of his drawer he spots a very old college tee shirt.

A memory, an early memory with Y/N, comes flooding to the surface. They got caught in a rainstorm after a picnic in the nearby park. Spencer changed into his comfortable tee shirt and pajamas. He would never forget the look on Y/N’s face; the way the rain collected on her glasses and for some reason she had yet to wipe them off. She called him an angel. Maybe it’s for bringing her some warm clothes or maybe she’s slightly on edge from their dash into Spencer’s apartment. Whatever it was that made her call him an angel, Spencer never wanted her to call him anything else. Besides his own name, in that scratchy sick voice that made him feel a little guilty for liking so much.

Spencer collects some other things he needs for his stay. A toothbrush, toothpaste, a hair brush, and his hair serum that Y/N says she likes the way it smells. When she told him that, Spencer could hardly wait to buy the entire supply from the CVS down the street. He tucks away in this bag with a small smile.

Walking out of his apartment, Spencer locks up and makes his way down to his car. He glances at his watch, realizing that it only took him a couple of minutes to get ready for Y/N. Quicker than what it takes for him to get ready for an emergency case. Then again, tending to a sick Y/N seems much pleasurable then looking at served bodies and mangled limbs.

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After making a pit stop at a small convenience store near Y/N’s apartment, Spencer pulls into the guest parking spot near her complex. He attempts to shoulder the weight of his go bag; even though he only packed a couple philosophy books, they are quite dense. In his hands, he grasps the grocery bags.

Y/N’s apartment, thankfully, is on the first floor. Spencer approaches the door and thinks twice about knocking or ringing the doorbell. The last thing he wants to do is wake a sick Y/N up. He rummages in his pants for his car keys. Attached to the keys is a cat keychain with a spare key to Y/N’s apartment. Balancing the groceries and his own bag, Spencer quietly attempts to open Y/N’s door without possibly waking her up.

Once he finally gets the door open, Spencer realizes all too late that a large orange cat guards the tight hallway entrance. Spencer Reid, though a genius in his own right, is completely aware of the fact that he has two left feet.

“Oh, Zelda! Oh shit!,” Spencer yells as he trips over Zelda, Y/N’s orange cat. Zelda, scared from the noise, leaps from her spot guarding the hallway to the kitchen. Spencer brushes himself from his fall and picks up the groceries that fell during his tumble.

“Zelda, baby?” Y/N calls from what sounds like the couch from the other side of the wall.

“Hi Y/N, it’s just me. It’s just Spencer,” He says, placing the oranges back in his canvas bag and on the kitchen table. He sees Y/N laying on the couch. Surrounded by a pile of crumpled tissues, she smiles weakly at Spencer. He walks over to her and like an involuntary muscle, she scoots her feet so Spencer has room to sit.

Spencer, setting the beg on the floor, tucks Y/N’s legs over his. He rests a comforting hand on her calf that’s covered by a worn quilt.

“You didn’t have to come Spencer. I’m really okay, I just wanted you to know that I wasn’t ghosting you this weekend,” Y/N explains. The TV has been left on, but on mute. The colorful lights illuminate Y/N’s face in her dimly lit apartment.

“Nonsense, Y/N. What are friends for,” Spencer offers, wondering beyond belief if he messed up calling them friends. Their relationship had been quite strange for the past couple of weeks. Intense moments of silence where Spencer thinks he’d have the time to memorize every freckle on her nose or small grazes from fingers to wrists where Spencer swears she left scars that he hope would never heal.

“Friends,” Y/N says quietly. Spencer, offering a tight lipped smile, leans forward to straighten the blankets under Y/N’s chin. He presses the back of his hand towards Y/N’s forehead, feeling her warm skin under his knuckles. He’s not sure if the heat he feels is from her bug or from the adrenaline coursing through his veins at being this close to Y/N.

“You’re hot,” Spencer says, not moving his hand from Y/N’s forehead. She, loving the way his ears turn pink when he’s embarrassed, uncovers her arm from under the blankets and holds onto his wrist, keeping him attached to her forehead. Not that he’d want it any other way.

“So are you,” Y/N says. Spencer flinches and moves his hand from her forehead like she scorched his hand. In reality, her comment pierced his heart with hope.

“How much cough syrup did you take?” Spencer asks, choosing to face the situation with humor. There’s no way in the world Y/N could ever find him “hot” without the aid of cough syrup or another mind numbing substance.

“None,” Y/N says, reaching around to turn off the television. Spencer, getting increasingly nervous as the minutes of that intense silence passed, mentions to Y/N that he needs to put the groceries away.

“You really didn’t need to do that, Spence. I feel bad enough that you came here just to get sick yourself,” Y/N says. She’s folding the blankets that she was just resting under.

“I’ll always come when you need me to, Y/N” Spencer says, his breath catching and his eyes latching onto Y/N. He looks at her too long and there’s that intense silence again. Silence that is as thick as fog. Spencer can’t see facts through all the love that swallows him whole looking at Y/N.

“Maybe I knew that, and maybe that’s why I called you,” Y/N murmurs quietly, almost like she’s more scared to admit it to herself than to Spencer.

“Maybe,” Spencer says, breaking her gaze to put the half melted tub of green tea ice cream in the freezer.

“I think I’m going to shower, I need to put a fresh pair of pajamas on. I’ll be right out,” Y/N tells him, turning on her heel and leaving Spencer along with his thoughts.

Spencer can hear the water from the shower turn on. He estimates that Y/N will take at least 5 minutes in the shower, accounting for a margin of error, he supposes that he should start to heat the soup he bought from the store now, so it’s ready for Y/N when she’s done in the shower. Too bad all Spencer’s brain power is good for his statistics and numbers, not recipes and romance.

As it turns out, not a single statistic, nor a single digit could account for the possibility of Y/N walking out her bedroom, her hair damp and skin practically glowing, wearing Spencer’s worn college tee shirt. Spencer reckons that his eyes must have been bugging out from his head, given the spirited smile Y/N wears.

“I’m sorry, Spence, you know how much I love this tee shirt. I was putting some of your stuff away in your drawer and I saw this and I just couldn’t help myself. God it even smells a little bit like that hair gunk you wear,” Y/N rambles. She stands, leaning on her door frame, staring at Spencer who holds a wooden spoon that he used to stir the soup.

“You look like an angel,” Spencer says before he can stop himself. He just knows that his face is flaming red.

“You remember that?” Y/N asks, her voice light and hopeful. Spencer recognizes something in it. It’s the way his voice sounds when he talks to her, about her, with her. He can only hope that this is the way she always talks to him. He hopes with every fiber of his being that she uses that light and hopeful voice with him and only him.

“Of course Y/N. Then again, even if I didn’t have an eidetic memory, I’d still remember every single detail about you,”

“Now you’re making me feel guilty about stealing your shirt. You’re being all sweet and kind with me, it makes me fuzzy in the head,” Y/N confesses. She walks to her kitchen table, slowly closing the gap between her and Spencer.

“Keep it, it looks better on you anyway,” Spencer tells her. Her eyes grow big at his words and she presses her lips together like she’s holding something in. But something in her switches. Something in her grows a little sad and Spencer watches before his eyes as Y/N withdraws into herself.

“You can’t say that stuff to me, Spencer. You can’t say that stuff to me and not expect me to love you more than I already do,” Y/N says, her eyes shut and her lips pinched so tightly that it almost looks painful.

“Y/N,” Spencer starts, unsure what he’s supposed to say. His brain always seems to be playing catch up around Y/N. “Can I say it if I do love you back?”

Y/N eyes flutter open and narrow at Spencer, as if she’s reading him. Her eyes scan for any sign of a joke, of a prank, of Spencer trying to trick her. Maybe he should be upset that Y/N is doubting him, but all Spencer can feel is hatred for the person that made her doubt herself so much to not believe him.

“I’ve never felt what I feel when I’m with you, Y/N. No one else has made me feel truly me except you, Y/N,” Spencer professes, setting down the wooden spoon on the counter to reach Y/N’s hand.

“I never thought you’d feel the same way, Spence. I love you, God. That feels so good to say,” Y/N says, letting out a strained laugh. Spencer standing up next to her, places his hands on Y/N cheeks, and tries to lean in lower to kiss her, but Y/N’s finger on his lips stops his movement.

“I’m so sorry, I should have asked. I thought that this is-” Spencer stammers, suddenly very concerned that he violated Y/N in some way.

“Shhh, angel. It’s okay. I want you to kiss me. I really do, but I just want you to tell the facts on you getting sick if you kiss me,” Y/N says, not moving her finger from Spencer’s soft lips. He kisses her finger and grasps her hand with his.

“Sorry, I just had to do that,” Spencer smirks, “but to answer your question, unless you have a bad cough, and some of the respiratory mucus has made its way into your saliva, the cold virus will not be transmitted by kissing,”

“That’s good, so please kiss me, Spencer,” Y/N practically begs, eager for Spencer to leave pieces of him all over her. Eager for him to leave physical evidence of the marking he’s already left on her heart.

“You just might have to take care of me next week,” Spencer counters, peppering kisses over her jaw, knowing he’s purposely avoiding her lips.

“Spencer, I’m sick! Don’t tease me, just kiss me,” Y/N whines, and Spencer caves. He leans in slowly, meeting his lips to Y/N’s. It was the kiss that Spencer knew he’d be waiting for. A kiss that seals fate without a return address. A kiss that reminds him that he’s alive. A kiss that says forever and always.

Spencer, resting his chin against Y/N’s head, closes his eyes. The intense silence that existed between them, now is this light and hopeful air.

“Y/N, do you use my hair gunk?” Spencer asks. He can’t help but giggle with her and breathe in the familiar scent of her hair. He places three kisses on Y/N’s head and gently pushes her hair to the side to kiss down the back of her neck.

“I’m not sure what I love more, the smell of your hair gunk or the man that wears it,”

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TAGLIST (Comment to be added or send in an ask)

@shemarmooresfedora

@willowrose99

@calm-and-doctor

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Requests from this posts are being filled since I hit 300 followers, so send in up to 3 numbers!

Tell me what you thought!

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader fluff #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid imagine #samuel de champagne problems 300 followers #criminal mind x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader fluff fic #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader comfort

[shemarmooresfedora]

HI!!

I’m so happy for you to have hit 200 and now 300 followers!! You deserve a gold star ⭐️

I was looking at the prompts I think 4, 6, 12 sound good!! Again, I’m super happy that at your follower count. You’re a great writer and I can’t wait to see wait else you come up with 💕

You Don’t Ever Have to Hide From Me

Summary: You and Spencer are forced to share a hotel room but insecurities get the best of you.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Content/Warnings: internal angst due to body image issues, fluffy ending!

Word Count: 1.2k

A/N: why did i just write and edit this whole thing to avoid editing my other WIP which would have taken me less time. i just have been feeling in a bit of a rut lately so i needed some good old-fashioned spencer reassurance. prompt requests close tomorrow at 5 pm EST

Masterlist

Hotch came back from the receptionist’s desk, “We’re going to have to double up on rooms. They’re a little short.”

JJ and Emily paired off together immediately to no one’s surprise.

“I’m not sleeping with Reid,” Derek shook his head.

“Alright, Morgan, you’re with me,” Hotch stated, handing the last card to Spencer, “Sorry, they only have a king room, not twins.”

You groaned internally, flashing Spencer an awkward grin that he returned with his classic tight-lipped smile.

You had nothing against Reid, in fact, you would go out on a limb to say that you would call him your friend rather than coworker. But, all you wanted was to relax and let sleep take over you and now you would be up all night, afraid of snoring or anything else you could do to possibly embarrass yourself in front of your newly-budding crush.

You and Spencer rode the elevator up to the second floor in complete silence. Spencer slipped the key card into the slot on the door and pushed it open as it blinked green. He gestured for you to enter first because he was always such a gentleman.

“You can take a shower first if you want,” you offered to diffuse some of the awkward tension.

“Okay, thanks,” Spencer collected his change of clothes and headed into the bathroom.

As you gathered your belongings, you fell onto the bed in exasperation when you realized you only packed a cotton bralette and PJ shorts to wear to bed because you hadn’t been expecting to share a room at all let alone with Spencer.

“All yours,” Spencer smiled softly as he exited the bathroom, ruffling a towel through his curly locks to dry them.

“Thanks,” you murmured, reluctantly grabbing the skimpy clothing and heading into the bathroom.

Spencer was reading with only the nightstand lamp on when you finished your shower. You exited the bathroom with your dirty clothes balled up in front of you to hide your bare torso.

You crawled into bed on the opposite side of Spencer, putting as much space between you as possible. You were practically falling off the edge of the bed in an attempt to keep your distance.

You cleared your throat, “I’m putting a pillow between us. Under no circumstances do you cross it, okay?”

You took one of the extra pillows on your side and placed it right in the middle of the bed.

“Understood,” Spencer nodded, clicking off the lamp, “Good night, Y/N.”

“Good night, Spencer.”

-

You awoke to the feeling of arms wrapped around you. You could feel Spencer’s soft, even breaths against your neck. But then you felt his hands touching your exposed stomach. You cringed as the insecurities bubbled up.

You leapt up from the bed which startled Spencer awake. Your arms were crossed tightly around your front to shield Spencer from seeing any more of your body in the morning light.

“I-I told you not to cross the pillow,” you spoke softly.

Spencer noticed he had gravitated to your side of the bed throughout the night.

“Y/N, I am so so sorry. I swear I was asleep, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable at all. I’ll sleep on the floor tomorrow night,” Spencer sputtered.

“Don’t bother, okay? Just forget it. I can take the floor or hopefully a new room will open up by then,” you gave him a small smile to show you weren’t mad and grabbed your bag, heading to the bathroom to get ready for the day.

-

You sighed, looking at yourself in the bathroom mirror the following night. No new rooms opened up and you didn’t ask to switch with anyone because you didn’t want to cause a fuss. You also didn’t want Spencer feeling bad because you knew he hadn’t meant to do it on purpose.

You had practically begged Derek to lend you his biggest sweatshirt for the night. When he asked for a reason, you just shrugged, muttering something about the air conditioning in your room being broken and he gave it to you.

Spencer was reading once again with the lamp on when you exited the bathroom, much more covered this time.

Spencer immediately stood when he heard the door open.

“I already made a bed on the floor for me. I was just using your bed to be close to the lamp while you were in there,” Spencer quickly explained, getting himself situated on the floor.

“Spencer, I really don’t mind taking the floor,” you said.

“I was the one who crossed the boundaries, Y/N. I am taking the floor, I should have taken it the first night too. I’m so sorry I made you uncomfortable,” Spencer stated.

“It’s okay, Spencer. Night,” you yawned.

“Night, Y/N,” he sighed.

Spencer heard your breathing even out but he couldn’t go to sleep.

It all made sense now. You got upset when he cuddled with you last night, rightfully so, but he couldn’t figure out why until now. You and Derek must have a thing. Why else would you be wearing Derek’s sweatshirt? You were trying to send a message to him.

Spencer rolled over and eventually fell into a restless sleep at the thought of his crush liking Derek.

-

“Just so you know, Derek’s a good guy even though he may put on a bit of a ‘player’ act,” Spencer stated to you as you were packing your bags.

The case had wrapped so you were heading home on the jet soon. You could finally have a room to yourself, not that Spencer wasn’t great company but it was just nerve-wracking to be constantly over-analyzing your every move when with your crush.

“Um okay?” you zipped up your suitcase and set it by the door.

“Is it serious or is it more of a casual thing? When did it first start? You guys should probably fill out the HR paperwork to cover the team from any liabilities,” he began to ramble.

“Spencer-”

“Don’t worry. Your secret's safe with me. I don’t really have anyone to tell anyways besides you and Morgan but obviously you two already know-”

“God, can you just listen to me for a second?”

This caused Spencer to close his mouth.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt you but I figured I should save you the breath. Morgan and I aren’t dating, seeing each other, or in any sort of romantic relationship,” you stated.

“But you were wearing his sweatshirt last night?” Spencer’s brow furrowed.

You pursed your lips and closed your eyes, “I’m not exactly the most comfortable in my body...especially around people I like.”

“Can I hug you?” Spencer asked softly.

You nodded and you felt yourself being enclosed in his warm embrace.

“You don’t ever have to hide from me, Y/N. You are the most beautiful woman I have ever and will ever lay my eyes on, inside and out,” Spencer whispered in your ear.

“And I like you too,” he added, “Not that you need them but if you’re going to be borrowing anyone’s clothes, they’re going to be mine,” he smiled.

“Good to know because I’ve had my eyes on that purple sweater of yours for a while,” you grinned.

taglist: (just ask to be added or removed!): @samuel-de-champagne-problems @g0lden-cth @spencerreid9 @averyhotchner @coldlilheart @k-k0129 @ickleronniekinsemotionalrange

#spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid fanfiction #cm fanfic #spencer reid

[strawberryspence]

300 followers?! This still feels surreal. 🥺 Thank you for reading my works and giving it so much love. Words is not enough to show my gratitude for you all 🤎

To celebrate 300 followers, I prepared a couple of gifts!

1. I made this list of ALL the things I've ever read that involves Criminal Minds or Spencer Reid. I am still adding into it as I read new things but right now it has 817 fics. (I know, its embarrassing knowing that I only started reading CM on May 2021)

2. Asks games! Will be open from July 15 (today) to July 23!

🌻 - Send me this emoji and a Criminal Minds episode and I will rewatch it and tell you what I think about it!

🦋 - Send me this emoji and I will shuffle my music and post it with my favorite lyrics.

🌞 - Send me this emoji with a link to a story you want me to read and I'll tell you what I think about it! (I want new things to read so send me some!)

☕️ - Send me this emoji and I will give you a compliment/message!

🎃 - Send me this emoji and I will post tiktok videos of MGG or Spencer Reid!

I copied some of this from a few mutuals that has celebrated before!

Tagging some lovely mutuals I have met through my small journey:

@doctcr-reid @g0lden-cth @samuel-de-champagne-problems @shemarmooresfedora @sweetandsunny @spookyspence @all-tings-gubler @babymetaldoll @boldlyvoid @spencerslibrary

#dae celebrates 300 #i love you all 💘 #spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid fic rec

[samuel-de-champagne-problems]

Though I Can't Recall Your Face, I Still Got Love For You

Summary: Spencer’s always been ambivalent about his birthday, but self proclaimed lover of birthday’s Y/N attempts to change that.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Warnings: Spencer’s kind of a sad bitch. Question: Why do I like writing sad Spencer?

Word Count: 2.5 K- ish

Author’s Note: prompts come from here this one is 4,8,25 from @shemarmooresfedora !! please go check out her blog on here and on Ao3!! Also, I’m stilling taking requests for numbers. I’ll update for which ones have been taken 💕

Though I Can’t Recall Your Face, I Still Got Love for You

Birthdays were always hard when all you had to do is go home to an empty house. No sounds of friends crowding the dining room table, no laughter from family members, no well wishes or pats on the back. All there is, is the stillness of silence and the emptiness of solitude. Spencer thought that he was used to it. He remembers the way the sun felt on his face the morning he woke up on his 18th birthday. His first thought wasn’t it’s my day, but it’s the day I put my mom away. The day Spencer became a man, was the first day he really wished he was a little boy again.

Ever since then, birthdays have always been a sore spot for Spencer. They just bring up sour tasting memories of his mother refusing to get out of bed or his father staying late at work to avoid coming home to a wife who doesn’t remember her own husband or a son who he can’t seem to understand. Birthdays, for Spencer, have always been just another day. Or at least, that’s what Spencer tells himself on the long ride up the elevator to the 6th floor of the BAU.

The bullpen is dark when Spencer walks out from the elevator. Paperwork and manila folders clutter the desks. Even Spencer’s workspace seems to reflect himself: frozen in time. He sits at his desk, a photograph of him and his mother placed at the right corner smiles up at him. A newer photograph, one of him and Y/N, sits right next to the one with his mom. There’s one with Derek and Penelope, one with him and Gideon at his Academy graduation, and one with him and JJ, who’s holding Henry. One of him and Luke at a bar, Penelope in the background drunk and singing.

Spencer loves photographs, but recently he’s been obsessed with them. Ever since his mother’s diagnosis, the fear that would ever forget the faces that find a home in his heart paralyzes him. These pictures may very well one day tell a much more older, much more grayer Spencer the story of his life. Today, in his mind, is another day closer to his fate.

His birthday means he’s another day closer to forgetting the way Y/N eyes sparkle when she drinks too much rose, or Henry’s laugh at Spencer’s magic tricks, or feeling when Derek calls him his brother. No one, not even Y/N, knows that Spencer has a drawer filled up of photographs he’s collected over the years. He can’t deal with forgetting the principles of electromagnetism, but forgetting his family? Spencer wouldn’t have anything left, but the smiling faces of familiar strangers, whose names are just out of reach.

Spencer rubs his eyes with the ball of his palm. He knows he’s not going to get work done. Spencer spins in his swivel chair and he’s nearly startled out of his quiet thoughts when his phone rings.

“Dr. Spencer Reid,” he says, swallowing his emotions as he shuts the drawer on the shiny faces.

“You really need to start checking your caller ID, Spence,” Y/N says, with a chuckle. Spencer can practically feel the way she’s smiling. For some reason, her teasing never made him feel bad.

“Well, what do I owe this pleasure?” Spencer asks. He drums his fingers on his desk, waiting for Y/N to respond.

“It seems like we have a missing person case,” Y/N starts, “6’2 male, brown hair, some say his eyes are green and some say they’re brown, so we’ll go with hazel, and he’s like ridiculously smart, but also kind of dumb for avoiding his girlfriend on his birthday,”

Spencer sighs as he launches himself into a long spin in his chair. He’s not surprised that Y/N is calling him; she’s always loved birthdays. She’s always been someone to someone. It’s taken some time to adjust to the fact that Spencer is Y/N’s someone.

“Are you coming to rescue me?” Spencer asks sheepishly. He leans back in his chair, watching the elevator. Y/N might think she’s slick, but Spencer’s sure he knows her better than he knows geographical profiling.

“Maybe, can you tell me how fast elevators can travel up to the 6th floor?”

Spencer opens his mouth, ready to fire statistics on top of statistics, but is silenced by Y/N’s arrival. Spencer tries to remain neutral, remain ambivalent about this day being something more than any other day, but Y/N makes it difficult.

As soon as her feet leave the elevator she launches herself at Spencer, not caring that he’s less than capable of catching anything. In a tangle of arms and legs, Y/N manages to sit herself on Spencer’s lap. His hand snakes around her waist; he holds her so tight that it’s almost like he’s afraid she’s going to get blown out like birthday candles on a cake.

“I can’t believe you thought you could sneak out and come to work, on your birthday of all days,” Y/N says quietly, she threads her fingers through Spencer’s hair. She likes how long it’s gotten and his curl pattern is almost fully restored to their original health from before he went to prison.

“How’d you find me?” Spencer asks, thinking that birthdays might not be so bad if they all involve Y/N sitting in his lap and trying to braid his hair.

“Do you seriously have to ask that? Only the Oracle of Quantico,” Y/N teases and Spencer rolls his eyes, thinking he should have known that Garcia would be the one to track his location for Y/N.

“It’s vaguely illegal for a federal agent to tap into those databases, especially for a civilian,” Spencer counters. Y/N, smiling at him, dips her head down to press light kisses on his eyebrows and down the bridge of his nose.

“So’s an ex-Army Ranger giving me his key card to sneak into the BAU,”

“Luke’s in on this too,” Spencer tries to sound upset, but his heart swells at the thought of Penelope, Luke, and Y/N all instigating for his birthday.

“Of course he is, I had to bring out the big guns for my Spencer’s birthday,” Y/N quips. Her fingers climb up Spencer’s sides, tickling him. She likes the kind of laugh that he lets out when she tickles him. It’s a laugh that’s unguarded and full of life. It’s a laugh that doesn’t hold anything back. It’s a laugh that relieves the pressure that festers deep inside him.

Y/N’s hands may make him laugh, but nothing makes him beam more than hearing Y/N call him “my Spencer”. She says it so simply, like my doesn’t even exist, like it’s an involuntary muscle being flexed. For Y/N, loving Spencer came as easy and effortless as breathing.

“You do love birthdays,” Spencer says, looking up at Y/N. He spins them around in his swivel chair, giggling as she lets out a gleeful squeal. Spencer grows dizzy, but he thinks he’s dizzier from Y/N’s love than from spinning in his chair.

“I love your birthday more than any other day, even my birthday,” Y/N says, getting up from Spencer’s lap to pick up the canvas grocery bags she brought with her.

“I was never one for birthdays,” Spencer says quietly. Y/N, more than anyone, knows Spencer’s challenging past. She knows his fears and she knows his dreams. She haunts his every waking moment; somehow a mercurial threat and a constant promise at the same time.

“I know, but I’m sure I’ll make you grow to love them,” Y/N says, “I wasn’t sure which flavor you wanted so I got all of them. Wawa has a surprisingly good selection of Turkey Hill,”

She takes out three gallon sized cartons of ice cream. One coffee with chocolate chips, one butter pecan, and one Moose Tracks. She hands Spencer a spoon and a napkin before sitting down on the floor and opening a carton of the ice cream.

“I do love dairy,” Spencer says, eyeing the ice cream, but considering the consequences of eating the creamy desert. Spencer shoves the statistics about the effects of dairy on a 40 year old with lactose intolerance down and takes his spot next to Y/N on the floor.

He goes to open his carton of ice cream, coffee with chocolate chips, but before he can dig his spoon into the tub, Y/N grabs his wrist.

“No! Spence, wait. Here, take these. And you need to light it,” she says, plopping a couple lactose pills in his hand and digging out a pack of candles and a lighter from her bag.

“Y/N are you out of your mind! We can’t light something in the BAU, god, Emily will kill me,” Spencer says nervously.

“Spence, do you really think Emily Prentiss is going to give me shit for lighting a candle for your birthday in the middle of the office. That woman lives on the edge,” Y/N waves him off and lights a single candle.

Spencer, staring at the lit candle, listens as Y/N sings “Happy Birthday” to him. Sitting criss cross on the floor of the BAU, he watches as the candle light illuminates Y/N’s face. She looks almost ghostly in the dark with the flickering light making her eyes glow. Y/N wishes the song and grasps his hand and squeezes hard.

“Make a wish, baby,” Y/N tells him. She really believes in wishes. Spencer wishes he could believe in wishes. He desperately wants to believe that Clotho, Lachesis and Atropos are somehow tying knots in the places where his string has been cut.

But more than anything, Spencer can’t bear to forget the face of the women across from. He can’t bear to one day not recognize the way her hand feels in his. He can’t accept the possibility of Y/N being anything less than the person he knows best in this world. Spencer doesn’t particularly care for the metaphor of the light going out. But his fears are put at bay when Y/N leans over and pecks his cheek. He can feel her grinning against his skin and like some virus contracted through touch, it’s contagious. Y/N breaks apart from Spencer and motions for him to eat some ice cream. They sit, shoulder to shoulder, against the front of Spencer’s desk eating their ice cream.

“Thank you, for making my birthday special. It’s been a hard year,” Spencer says, letting the tension in the air speak for itself, “my mom didn’t remember me the other day. I hate seeing her like that,”

“I know, sweetheart. You’ve been through so much. That’s why you need to tell me these things,” She says, setting down her ice cream. Y/N places her hands on Spencer’s shoulders, guiding him to place his back against her chest. His head rests in the crook of her neck. Spencer can feel her steady heart beat against his back. It’s a constant, patterned drum amidst the chaos of his mind.

“Can we take a picture, you know, just to remember this day,” Spencer asks, his voice laced with trepidation. He can feel Y/N nod, and move to grab her phone from her pocket.

Spencer sits up and scoots over to open the bottom drawer of his desk. He pulls out an old camera, one where you have to wait for the picture to appear on the print out. He likes the charm in older things, you really have to work for it. He likes the effort that you have to put into getting the picture made.

“Going old school, I see,” Y/N teases as she catches sight of Spencer’s old camera. He returns to his spot, snuggled against her back. Their legs stick out on the floor, his much longer than Y/N’s. Her arms snake around his torso, holding him tight. Spencer holds the camera out, facing them to capture their faces in some archaic selfie style.

The light flashes before Spencer’s eyes, and Y/N’s kiss on the top of his head burns a hole that instantly leaves him craving more. He’d let her draw any pattern she desires, as long as her kisses are the medium and he is her canvas.

“Can you tell me what you wished for?” Y/N asks, her voice low.

Spencer, looking off into the distance, makes a disgruntled noise. He can feel Y/N’s fingers crawl up his sides and her arms encasing his body. She’s shielding him from his demons, but little does she know that the most menacing foe is his mind.

“You’re really not supposed to, but considering you’re my wish I think you have the right to know,” Spencer offers, “I wished that I’ll never forget you. Never forget this life we made together,” He feels his chest constrict. Mentioning his fear makes it seem more palpable; more real.

“Spencer, have you felt that way for a long time?,”

Spencer takes a deep breath, letting the floodgates open.

“I’ve felt like this my whole life, Y/N. I’m terrified to forget you. To forget our children that I haven’t even met yet. Forget who I am. I’m terrified that I’m going to leave you behind in a murky past that I can never remember,” Spencer says. He chokes back the pain. He doesn’t want Y/N memories of him to be marred by fear and darkness.

“This is about your mom, right. Spencer, listen to me. I’ll love you even if that comes true. I don’t need you to recall my face to know you still got love for me. And you're not leaving me behind. I won’t allow that. I’m not leaving you behind, baby,” Y/N says, her voice the most soothing cure.

She’s a power mixture of biochemicals and neurotransmitters. She heals him at an epigenetic level and restores him piece by piece. Her medicine is love.

Or maybe her love is his medicine.

“I’ve never been this scared of losing something, because I never had someone to lose,” Spencer mumbles, he twists his head so his breath is warm against Y/N’s neck. Somehow in this twisted position, Spencer has never felt safer.

“You can’t lose something that can’t be lost, my Spencer. I’m not going anywhere,”

“I love you to the moon and to Saturn,” Spencer says kissing along Y/N’s collarbones.

Like the pictures in the drawer, Spencer tucks away the fears of the future. He swallows the threat of forgetting everything because the promise of love swallows him whole. He craves a future with Y/N with the possibility of forgetting who she is over the life he’d live if he left her behind.

She said it best, even if one day he can’t recall her face, he’ll still have love for her.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

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[shemarmooresfedora]

Hi! I hope it's not too late but can you maybe do 2,3 and 5 from the prompt list?? maybe like reader is having a hard time with spencer always being on cases so she asks for some time, then makes him his favorite meal when she decides to stay with him and tell him she loves him?? if not it's ok, I hope you have a great day!! <33

Like You Deserve

Summary: Your boyfriend isn’t letting you in and you’re tired of it. Let’s see how well he does without you.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Content/warnings: angst with happy ending, swearing

Word Count: 0.9k

A/N: okay so i thought i was following @g0lden-cth ‘s suggestion but i kinda wasn’t which is just proof i do not have an eidetic memory like reid. the prompts are still included though! FINAL CALL FOR PROMPT REQUESTS (CLOSING WED 5/12). i was gonna close them earlier but now it’s my 300 follower celebration!!!

Masterlist

You heard the apartment door open as you were pulling the lasagna out of the oven.

“Hey!” you called out, “I made your favorite just the way you like!”

“I just need some time to myself,” Spencer spoke and then you heard the bedroom door close.

You sighed. Was it really that hard for him to just thank you for once? To appreciate everything you do for him?

You silently ate dinner at the counter by yourself, waiting for Spencer’s mood to pass. You washed the dishes and made a plate for him to reheat when he was ready.

It had been two hours and Spencer was still in there. You knocked quietly on the door.

“What did I say?” he snapped.

Oh, that is it, you thought and swung the door open.

“You know what, Spencer? I was coming in here to check up on you because I actually care about you but now, whatever you need, get it yourself. I am so sick of this relationship being completely one-sided. If you had even bothered to ask, you would know that I got passed up for the promotion that I have been working my ass off for for months but I still came home and cooked dinner for you because you told me it was a rough case. And you know what I got in return? Not even a text letting me know when you were going to be home and a fucking attitude that I definitely don’t deserve. So that’s it, I’m done. Have a nice life, Spencer, cause I’m done trying to fit myself into it.”

You slammed the bedroom door shut and quickly collected your things before leaving the apartment.

-

“Y/N?” you heard someone call out from next to you in the loud bar.

You turned around and cringed a little when you saw Spencer standing in front of you. His hair had definitely grown out a lot since the last time that you saw him and he now had stubble along his jawline.

“Spencer...it’s been a while,” you smiled politely and sipped your drink, beginning to turn your stool away from this awkward encounter.

“Um, I guess congratulations are in order,” Spencer said.

“Hm?” you asked, looking down to where his eyes were.

You were at your best friend’s bachelorette party and she asked you to hold her sash while she went to the bathroom.

“Oh um yes, it appears they are.”

You went along with it. It was better for him to think you were doing well after the breakup when in fact all you had gotten were a few lousy dates that didn’t lead anywhere.

“Well I wish you the best,” he smiled softly, “I should get back to my team.”

You nodded, “Bye, Spencer.”

-

You had just gotten home and changed into sweats when there was a rapid knocking on your door.

You opened it, assuming one of the girls had left something at your apartment when you were getting ready for the club beforehand.

Your breath hitched in your throat when you saw a very frantic-looking Spencer standing in front of you.

“Oh thank god, you still live here. Despite the fact that I may get beat up for saying this if they are home,” Spencer tried to peek into the apartment before returning his gaze to you, “Don’t marry them, please. I was far from the best boyfriend in the past so I know I can’t offer you much but I do love you.”

“Spencer, you can’t just show up months later and tell me this. You just want me now because you can’t have me,” you tried to shut the door.

He put his foot in to jam it, “Y/N, I had no idea how much you were doing for me until you were gone. And I don’t want you back just to keep doing those things for me, I want you back so I can do all those things for you. You were constantly showing me love when I was an asshole and giving you nothing in return. I want to prove my love now if you let me have a second chance, you won’t ever have to lift a finger.”

“Spencer, I’m not calling off the wedding,” you spoke softly.

Spencer released his foot from the door, “Okay, I respect your decision. I’m so sorry things between us ended this way and it’s entirely my fault. I treated you so poorly and I regret it every day. I hope they make you happy, you deserve a lifetime of it,” he smiled softly with tears brimming in his eyes.

“I-I’m going to go,” he turned around and headed down the stairs.

“I can’t call off a wedding that didn’t exist in the first place,” you added.

“What?” he perked up.

“I was holding the sash for a friend. Technically, I never lied though, I said ‘it appears so’,” you grinned.

Spencer quickly ran back up to your door, wiping away the tears in his eyes.

“Y/N, will you let me make it up to you and treat you like you deserve?” Spencer asked.

“I will agree to a date. We can’t just go back to how it was before,” you replied.

“I’ll cook you your favorite meal and then bake dessert and I’ll buy you every single bouquet of flowers the florist has,” Spencer smiled.

A/N: part 2...eventually???...maybe??? we’ll see if people actually like it

taglist: (just ask to be added or removed!): @samuel-de-champagne-problems @g0lden-cth @spencerreid9 @averyhotchner @coldlilheart @k-k0129

#spencer reid angst #spencer reid x you #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #reid x reader #cm fanfic #spencer x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid fanfiction

[shemarmooresfedora]

Spencer the Grouch

Summary: Your only question to Spencer is “What made you such an arrogant, rude prick?”

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Content/Warning: swearing, bickering, Spencer Reid being a bitch, mentions of Diana’s schizophrenia and Alzheimer’s, fluff

Word Count: 1.5k

A/N: this is the final of my 3 fics for me and @samuel-de-champagne-problems 500 follower co-celebration!!! our prompts today were: Enemies to Lovers, Going to a library/bookstore, “You deserve so much more”. to see all of our fics, click here!

Masterlist

You were scowering the shelves of the bookstore for a copy of Wonder by R.J. Palacio. Your daughter spilled fruit punch on her copy and needed a new copy to finish her book report.

You spotted it on the top shelf, you were on your tippy-toes trying to jump up and grab it.

A young man came over and reached up for the book you were trying to get.

“Oh, thank you very much,” you sighed in relief when he brought the book back down, thinking he was helping you out.

But then, he proceeded to walk away.

“Um, excuse me, sir?” you chased after him and tapped his back.

“That’s my book,” you pointed down to the book in his huge stack.

“No, it’s not,” he quirked an eyebrow.

“You clearly saw me reaching for it before you swooped in. My daughter has her book report due tomorrow and she ruined her first copy. Please,” you begged.

“Not my fault that your daughter ruined her copy. My godson needs this book to start his and it’s due tomorrow,” he stated.

“Well, it’s not my fault that your godson waits to do things until the last minute. My daughter just spilled her drink on it by accident. It’s a 300 page book, how are you expecting him to finish it all in one night?” you crossed your arms.

“I’m a fast reader.”

“Oh so you’re doing the project for him? How do you expect him to learn? You know as a teacher, I highly discourage that.”

“I’m a doctor and a professor so I think I’ll be quite alright without your opinion,” he snarked.

“What made you such an arrogant, rude prick? Whatever, I’ll just go to another store,” you huffed, storming out of the shop.

-

You had managed to find another copy after going to three other bookstores.

Valerie had to pull an all-nighter to finish up something that she could have finished before her bedtime if you got the book from the first store.

You taught 3rd grade next door to Valerie’s 4th grade classroom so right at dismissal time, you loaded your class up on the bus and went to go pick up your daughter.

“Mom, I’m so sleepy,” she whined as you took her backpack from her cubby.

“Aw, I know, baby. Let’s get you home and we can both take a nap,” you grabbed her hand.

As you were walking towards the door, you saw the man from the bookstore yesterday enter.

“See right there, Val,” you pointed to him, not even trying to keep your voice down, “That’s the rude man from yesterday I was telling you about. You don’t ever want to be like him. Remember why?”

“We don’t belittle other people’s professions. We treat people with kindness. We always help each other out and use our manners,” Valerie repeated your lesson to her from yesterday.

“Good job, baby,” you smiled.

“Y/N,” Mrs. Jensen spoke, “Would you be interested in one of the parent volunteer opportunities coming up?”

“Sure! Sign me up for whatever needs help,” you waved goodbye.

-

You told Mrs. Jensen to just have all the other bake sale people come to your house to bake and help prep. However, she told you that it was just one other person so you two would just have to do a lot more work. Valerie even offered her assistance.

A knock sounded at the door.

“That must be them, Val,” you put on a friendly smile as you opened the door, revealing the mean bookstore man once again.

“What are you doing here?” you frowned.

He checked the folded up piece of paper in his pocket again, “I was supposed to report here for helping with the bake sale?”

“You know what? We’re actually fine. Your help is no longer needed. Thanks,” you tried to shut the door.

“But Mrs. Jensen said there was only one other person,” he stuck his foot in the door.

“I’d rather do it all by myself than work with you.”

“Will you at least let me apologize for how I acted at the bookstore? I got some pretty bad news and I know that’s not an excuse but I realize now that lashing out at everyone around me was wrong. Also, teaching kids is a very admirable career and I’m sorry if I gave the impression that I didn’t think it was.”

“Fine,” you sighed, opening the door.

“Mom, who is it,” Valerie asked, coming down the stairs.

“Oh,” she frowned when she caught a glimpse of Spencer, “Oscar the grouch.”

You tried to stifle a laugh at the nickname you and Valerie had given the man.

“It’s actually Spencer the grouch but point taken,” he nodded, slightly amused.

“Val, he’s going to help us so be nice,” you told her.

She reluctantly nodded and headed to the kitchen.

“Sift the flour and cocoa into this bowl,” Valerie instructed him.

“Um fair warning I’m not very good at baking,” Spencer admitted.

“Then why did you sign up for the bake sale?” you questioned.

“I just signed up where they needed help.”

“While it’s very admirable, why are you volunteering at all? You don’t have a kid, right?” you asked.

“I have a godson, Henry. No, I don’t have any kids of my own but I hope to someday. I just haven’t found someone to have one with yet.”

“You could foster or adopt,” you suggested.

“I may in a year or two,” Spencer nodded.

As Spencer sifted the flour, he hit the sifter a little too hard one time and a huge cloud of white powder flew up into his face.

Valerie laughed as you handed Spencer a wet paper towel.

“I told you I wasn’t very skilled,” Spencer grinned, wiping his face off.

“We need music, Mom,” Valerie stated.

“Say no more, my dear,” you connected your phone to the bluetooth speaker and played your playlist consisting mainly of Taylor Swift and One Direction.

You and Valerie sang and danced between steps of the recipe. You even got Spencer to dance for a moment but he was very reluctant.

By the time you slid the pans of brownie batter into the oven, you all were thoroughly exhausted.

“Alright, bedtime for you, Val,” you hugged her goodnight.

-

Once Valerie was in bed, you sat down on the couch with Spencer, waiting for the brownies to finish baking.

“You know you don’t have to wait, right? I can manage to take the pans out of the oven and cut them into pieces by myself,” you told him.

“I know but I wanted to apologize again for how I treated you at the bookstore. It was rude, unfair, disrespectful, and so many other horrible words and I hope you can believe me when I say that’s not the real me. I was just in a really bad place but that’s not an excuse to treat others poorly,” Spencer apologized.

“Do you want to talk about it?” you asked, picking your legs up off the ground and turning to face him, criss-cross on the couch.

“My mom was just diagnosed with Alzheimer’s in addition to her schizophrenia. So, I have one more inherited genetic condition to worry about. And I don’t even know how much longer she is going to remember me for,” Spencer teared up, “She’s all the family I have.”

You pulled Spencer in for a hug as he sobbed into your chest. You rubbed his back soothingly.

“I mean yes I have my team which is kind of like my family but they have all their separate families that they go home to at night or during the holidays. I have no one except a mom who doesn’t even remember me most of the time,” Spencer cried.

You cupped his cheeks, forcing him to look up at you, “Spencer, even seeing your worst side, I can confidently say, you deserve so much more. You and your mom are welcome here any time for the holidays with me and Val.”

“Really?” he sniffled.

“Absolutely. I always make way too much food anyways,” you grinned.

Spencer looked at you with pure adoration in his eyes as he leaned forward ever so slowly. You found yourself doing the same until your lips met. Spencer grabbed a hold of the back of your head to keep you as close as possible.

You didn’t pull away until you heard a loud “EWWW.”

You and Spencer turned to see Valerie standing there with a bag of chips in one hand and shielding her eyes with the other.

“I thought I told you to go to bed,” you spoke.

“I tried but then my stomach started growling and you know I can’t sleep when I’m hungry,” she crossed her arms, “What happened to hating him?”

“He is forgiven,” you replied with a soft smile.

“Ugh, you’re gonna become Mrs. Grouch and then our whole family will be the Grouchs,” she whined, storming back up the stairs.

“Where were we?” you asked Spencer with a smirk.

Spencer pressed his lips up against yours once again.

taglist (just ask to be added or removed!): @samuel-de-champagne-problems @g0lden-cth @spencerreid9 @averyhotchner @coldlilheart @k-k0129 @ickleronniekinsemotionalrange @harrystylesandthegoobs @cmily @jswessie187 @rem-ariiana @hoodpankow @mochionly @spencerreid-187

#spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid #spencer reid fic #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid x you #cm fanfic #spencer x reader #reid x reader #dr spencer reid #dory and rosie’s excellent adventure