🌱Καλημέρα!🌱

Anne, Brazilian Queer, She/her 21yo

[anne-the-student-ish]

Γεια σου! Είμαι Αννε!

Hello! I am Anne, Brazilian she/her, 21yo. I'm back and now i'm learning Greek. I want to connect more with my faith (hellenism), to be able to speak and read the Deities names as they originally are, and also to go back into learning languages!

[lilliesthings]

Reid mimicking how Gideon positions his legs then goes to also mimic the position of his arms but feels self-conscious at the last moment so he crosses them instead.

Thinking a lot about pre-BAU Reid and Gideon again

[lilliesthings]

Reid mimicking how Gideon positions his legs then goes to also mimic the position of his arms but feels self-conscious at the last moment so he crosses them instead.

Thinking a lot about pre-BAU Reid and Gideon again

[reidtober]

Welcome to the Reidtober event

I bring to you the first edition of this event—I am very much excited for this. I hope you'll like it and want to participate!!

This event is kinktober—I plan on doing a flufftober event in the future, but right now I'm sticking to the kink side 🫦

This aims for fun and creativity, if you want to participate check the standard rules and feel free to join 💗

You can interpret the prompts as you want. I will leave some extra prompts in case you want to interchange any of the original prompts or if you want to create even more :)

[luvlyk-13]

“my wife?”

spencer reid x wife!reader

summary: spencer accidentally let it slip that he has a wife, but he thought that they knew

The bullpen is louder than usual.

A case just closed — messy, exhausting, emotionally draining — but closed. And that always brings a certain kind of restless energy to the team.

“Alright,” Derek announces, spinning slightly in his chair. “We deserve a drink. Real one. Not whatever’s been fermenting in the break room coffee pot.”

Emily snorts. “Seconded.”

“Thirded,” JJ adds, already grabbing her bag.

Spencer doesn’t look up at first. He’s reorganizing his go-bag with that meticulous focus he gets when he’s trying to decompress.

Hotch gives a small nod. “One hour. Then home.”

Morgan leans back in his chair and eyes Spencer. “You in, Pretty Boy?”

Spencer finally looks up, blinking like he just remembered he’s in a room full of people.

“Oh, um.” He glances at his watch. “I actually should probably head home.”

Morgan frowns dramatically. “Since when do you skip celebratory drinks?”

Spencer shrugs. Casual, almost too casual.

“My wife doesn’t love when I get back too late after a case. It messes with our routine.”

Silence.

Not the normal end-of-shift shuffle silence.

The kind where the air changes.

Emily freezes mid-zip of her purse. JJ slowly turns around. Morgan’s smile drops.

“…Your what?” he asks carefully.

Spencer blinks at him, “My wife.”

Morgan stands up fully now. “Your what?”

Spencer looks genuinely confused. “My wife? Why are you repeating it like that?”

“Reid,” Emily says slowly, “you don’t have a wife.”

Spencer stares at her, “Yes, I do.”

JJ’s eyebrows shoot up. “Since when?”

Spencer’s forehead creases like they’re the ones being ridiculous, “Since 2012.”

Morgan’s mouth actually falls open. “Two thousand and— Reid that was years ago.”

“Yes,” Spencer says patiently. “That’s generally how time works.”

“Spencer,” JJ says gently, “we would know if you were married.”

Spencer’s lips press together in mild disbelief, “I assumed you did know.”

“How?” Morgan practically shouts.

Spencer gestures vaguely. “I wear a ring?”

All of them look down. He does. A simple silver band. Always has. They just never clocked it. It blended in with his watch and the ink stains and the everything else that is Spencer Reid.

Emily steps closer. “You’re serious.”

Spencer exhales softly. “Of course I’m serious. Why would I joke about that?”

Morgan runs a hand over his head. “Okay, okay. Hold up. You’re married. To who?”

Spencer’s expression shifts immediately. Softens almost.

Like someone turned down all his sharp edges.

“Her name is Y/N.”

The way he says it makes the room feel smaller somehow. More intimate.

JJ tilts her head. “You’ve never mentioned her.”

Spencer hesitates.

And for the first time, he looks a little unsure, “I… didn’t think it was relevant to work.”

Morgan stares at him. “Reid, we share everything here.”

Spencer’s voice goes quiet but steady. “Not everything.”

There’s weight there.

Hotch, who’s been silent this entire time, studies him carefully. “She’s not in the Bureau.”

“No,” Spencer says quickly. “She’s not. She’s… normal. Civilian.”

Emily crosses her arms. “So let me get this straight. You’ve been married for over a decade and we’ve never met her?”

Spencer blinks. “Well… yes.”

Morgan points at him. “That’s insane.”

Spencer looks offended. “It’s not insane.”

“It’s a little insane,” JJ says gently.

Spencer shakes his head, standing now, suddenly protective in a way they’ve never seen before.

“She’s not a secret,” he insists. “I just… I don’t bring her into this.”

Morgan narrows his eyes. “Why not?”

Spencer goes quiet for a moment.

And when he speaks again, his voice is softer. Not defensive anymore. Just honest.

“Because this job takes things.”

The room stills.

“She met me when I was just starting at the BAU. Before any of the… really bad stuff.” He swallows. “She’s seen what this job does. To all of us.”

Emily’s expression softens.

Spencer continues.

“She was there when I couldn’t sleep after my first execution-style case. She sat with me and read out loud because I couldn’t get the images out of my head.”

JJ’s eyes glisten.

“She was there when my mom’s condition got worse. When I didn’t know how to handle it. She learned about schizophrenia just so she could understand what I grew up with.”

Morgan shifts, quieter now.

“And when I—”

Spencer stops.

The prison memory hangs heavy in the air without him even saying it.

His jaw tightens.

“When I was in prison,” he finishes softly, “she visited every week. Even when I told her not to.”

Emily inhales slowly.

Spencer’s voice steadies, “She wrote to me every day. She memorized the visitor protocols. She advocated for me when no one else could. She never once doubted that I’d come home.”

Morgan’s teasing expression is completely gone now.

“She kept our apartment exactly the same,” Spencer continues, almost like he’s replaying it in his mind. “She said she didn’t want me walking into something unfamiliar.”

JJ wipes at her eye discreetly.

Spencer looks down at his ring, “She’s been there for every version of me. The anxious twenty-something. The grieving son. The addict. The inmate. The profiler who can’t always leave work at work.”

His lips twitch faintly, “She’s the only constant I’ve ever had.”

The room is completely silent.

Morgan finally speaks, softer than they’ve ever heard him.

“Why didn’t you tell us?”

Spencer hesitates, “Because this job makes enemies,” he says quietly. “And I could never forgive myself if something happened to her because of me.”

That lands harder than expected.

Hotch nods once. He understands that logic more than anyone.

Emily steps forward slightly. “So you just… what? Go home every night and we never knew?”

Spencer gives a small shrug, “Yes.”

Morgan exhales slowly. “Reid, that’s not something small.”

Spencer tilts his head, “It’s not small to me.”

There’s no arrogance in it. Just certainty.

“She makes me dinner when I forget to eat. She leaves sticky notes in my books when she knows I’ll be stressed. She reminds me that I’m more than my IQ and my trauma.”

His voice softens again, “She married me when I was still figuring out how to exist in the world. That’s not small.”

JJ smiles through tears. “Does she know what you do?”

“Yes.”

“And she’s okay with it?”

Spencer nods, “She worries. But she says she’d rather love me in a dangerous world than not love me at all.”

Morgan shakes his head slowly, “Reid, that’s real.”

Spencer frowns slightly. “Of course it’s real.”

Emily laughs weakly. “We just didn’t know you had that.”

Spencer looks genuinely confused again.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

And there it is, the quiet confidence.

He doesn’t see himself as someone unworthy of love because someone has loved him consistently for years.

Morgan finally smirks faintly. “Alright, so when are we meeting her?”

Spencer stiffens instantly, “That seems unnecessary.”

“Oh no,” JJ says. “Very necessary.”

Hotch allows the smallest hint of amusement. “Agent Reid, you’ve withheld critical information from your team.”

Spencer sighs. “It wasn’t critical.”

Morgan claps him on the shoulder. “You being married is very critical, pretty boy.”

Spencer checks his watch again, panic creeping in slightly, “I really do have to go. She made lasagna tonight.”

Morgan groans. “You’re leaving us for lasagna?”

Spencer looks at him like he’s stupid, “Yes.”

The team bursts into laughter.

Spencer gathers his bag, still mildly baffled by their reaction.

As he heads toward the elevator, Emily calls after him, “Tell your wife we want to meet her!”

Spencer pauses and turns slightly.

And there’s the softest smile on his face.

“I’ll ask her if she’s comfortable with that.”

And then he’s gone.

—

Later that night, Spencer unlocks the door to your apartment quietly.

The smell of garlic and tomato sauce greets him immediately.

You appear in the kitchen doorway in his oversized sweater, hair slightly messy, smile automatic when you see him.

“You’re home.”

Spencer exhales like the world just unclenched.

You step into him, arms wrapping around his waist without hesitation and he practically melts instantly. Every sharp edge gone.

“Long case?” you murmur against his chest.

He nods, pressing his cheek to the top of your head.

“I accidentally told the team about you.”

You pull back slightly. “You what?”

“They seemed… surprised.”

You blink. “Spence, you never told them?”

“I assumed they knew.”

You laugh softly. “Oh my God.”

He looks sheepish for exactly half a second before he recovers, “They want to meet you.”

You study him gently. “Are you okay with that?”

Spencer looks at you. Really looks at you.

“You are the best thing in my life,” he says simply. “I don’t mind them knowing that.”

Your expression softens completely.

You reach up, cupping his face, “I’m proud to be your wife.”

His eyes warm immediately, “And I’m proud to be your husband.”

He leans down, kissing you slow and steady, not desperate, not rushed. Safe.

Because no matter what the job throws at him. No matter who questions it. He always comes home to you.

And now? The team finally knows he has something worth protecting.

[masivechaos]

i'd take a quiet life!

── ☆ spencer reid x fem! reader

Request: yes / no

Synopsis: life in the BAU might be daunting but spencer can manage it when he knows you're at home waiting for him.

Warning/content: established relationship, pure fluff and comfort, no use of y/n or physical description

a.n.: 1.6k words- first fic in two years hihi, hope you'll like it <3

masterlist / criminal minds masterlist / navigation

── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.───･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.──

Spencer Reid never thought his job at the BAU would allow him to get a stable relationship. His only examples were Rossi and his never-ending list of wives and Hotch that had gotten a divorce. Well there was JJ but her husband had the same kind of job so he’d get it. And yet… he had found you. 

Sweetest girl he had met, with a grin that could light up the whole room. As soon as he had met you, he had been sure you were the one. Never once had he felt bad around you. Often in his life, he had felt like he didn’t fit in. People would laugh and he didn’t know if they laughed with him or at him. But not even one time you had made him feel like he was an outsider. 

Even when he met your friends, he saw the way you would nudge your best friend’s feet so she’d shut up and let him talk. He hadn’t said anything, but oh boy had he noticed. It was his job after all.

A job that took all his time and that he had a hard time detaching himself from on his days off. Until you walked in. Sweet words in his ear after a bad case, the lights still on if you knew he’d be back in the middle of the night, fresh meals waiting for him in the fridge. 

He felt guilty sometimes, all the comforting little things you did and that made him feel like he’d known you for ages while all he had to give was quick phone calls and a kiss on your forehead when he got home to you already asleep.

Tonight was no different. It was almost midnight, earlier than most of the time he’d been away on cases but still past your bedtime. As always, you had left the small warm lamp on in the living room. It was actually the light you had gotten him for his birthday, so he could read at night without destroying his eyesight. 

The sole sight of it brought back the memory and made him smile. You had been thoughtful since the beginning of the relationship, he never had to hope you’d get him. Because you just did, right from the first date.

Spencer yawned. He couldn’t wait to get into bed. Next to you. 

The man wasn’t the biggest fan of physical touch, but when it came to you… He hadn’t held you for three days and it was way too much already. He let his tired feet drag him to the kitchen. Another small light was on, leading him to the fridge.

Spencer opened it, the small electric hum was now the only sound filling the silent apartment. His lips tugged into a smile as he saw a meal waiting for him. You had taken the habit of cooking for two even when you were alone so he wouldn’t have to when he’d come back. 

‘Lasagna for you (and i mean for you because i didn’t put the bechamel because i know you hate it) <3’

After heating up his dinner, he ate it alone on the sofa. There was truly no other place he’d rather call home. You had made silence and gloomy nights that he used to dread into quiet and peaceful moments just by sparkling your presence. It was the blanket you had spent hours crocheting, it was in the ugly drawing you had made of him on the napkin on your first date and that you insisted on putting up on the wall. The ugly socks you got him on valentine’s day. The flowers he had gotten you for your first month anniversary that you had carefully dried and were now on top of the fireplace. 

All these pieces of you, he was now a mosaic of every little thing you had ever loved, your apartment a testimony of the phenomenon. 

He quickly washed the plate. Then quickly washed himself, the warm water relaxing his sore muscles. And finally, he could reach for what he had desired for days, counting hours on the jet… you.

You were there, already asleep, curled up on your side of the bed. He quietly walked up to you, his lips attaching to the crown of your head. 

“Mmh,” you mumbled as the simple contact was enough to wake you up. You slowly opened your eyes “Spence”

Spencer sat on the side of the bed, his fingers found your hair “Hi, angel.” His voice was soft, draping over you like a blanket. He kept it low, not wanting to put you out of your sleepy state, even though he knew you’d want to talk, like always.. 

Work would tint his life gray but just the thought of you, your little texts and notes, were enough to make him glow enough until the case was over. And every time he could be next to you, it was like he finally saw the world in colour again.

“How was the case?” You whispered, wrapping your arms around his middle, your head finding the crook of his neck. You took in the scent of the soap he used, you had missed it. You sometimes used it when he was gone for too long, but it wasn’t the same as when it was mixed with the smell of his skin.

His fingers played with the baby hair on the nape of your neck “Good, we managed to catch the unsub and found the victim alive.”

You smiled, knowing how much these cases were rare “You can sleep peacefully now”

Spencer chuckled, “Is that an invitation?”

“Please”

Spencer laid down on his side of the bed. You immediately clung closer. You knew Spencer and his genius brain would have found a way to melt the two of you together if it were physically possible. 

He let his head fall on your chest. With his ear pressed against your sternum, he listened to your heartbeat. He had lived through so many losses on the workfield, he had to ground himself into what was there. And you always were.

74 beats per minute was your average, though you were a little calmer tonight with a 71. His finger was tapping on your skin at each heartbeat.

“I don’t know how it relaxes you,” you whispered “Every time I hear your heart beat I feel like it’s gonna burst out of your chest and it scares me.”

Spencer chuckled, the sound resonating in your chest. “Well I do feel like I have a heart attack every time you’re around,” he said with a small grin.

You shook your head “Cheesy”

“Can’t help it”

Ah-ha. 91 beats per minute now. And yet you were pretending not to be flustered. Slowly, he heard your heart slow down, until you were asleep beneath him. There was nothing in the world he would trade against this.

Tired, he still spent some time watching you sleep. He had waited that time for days and didn’t know if he’d be around the following night, so he took it in. The slight crease between your brows, the ways your lips parted, the rise and fall of your chest, your fingers that had slipped beneath his shirt and that left a hot trail on his skin...

//

Spencer woke up before you in the morning. He could sleep in a bit more, but he wanted to pay back what you had given last night. He slipped out of bed after leaving a kiss on your temple.

He had 23 minutes before you’d wake up, which meant 36 minutes before you’d actually get up, as you liked to linger in bed as much as you could. That gave enough time to prepare your breakfast.

He was by no means the best at cooking, but over the endless brunches the two of you had, he had mastered a pancake recipe. He got to work, and let out a small ‘tsk’ when he heard you wake up 8 minutes before his schedule. He wouldn’t have time to prepare your coffee before you’d get up if you kept this unusual pace.

He was just pouring the coffee into the mug, filled with ice and a dash of vanilla syrup, when he heard your footsteps growing louder.

“Spencer?” you said before letting out a long yawn “Why-” another yawn “Why aren’t you in bed? You barely got six hours of sleep”

“I wanted to make you breakfast” He simply answered as he topped your coffee with the cold milk.

You wrapped your arms around him, pressing your cheek to his back “You didn’t have to”

“Which is exactly why I do it. Just like you don’t have to prepare my meals, or leave the lights on,” he said.

Spencer turned around, handing you your coffee. He had watched you prepare it once before you were even dating and had remembered it since. You took a sip “Mmh”

With your hip against the countertop, you watch him lay two plates on your small round dinner table. “Take a seat”

So you did. “I like this,” you said

“The pancakes?”

“Eating breakfast together, we don’t do it as much as I’d like”

That was such a simple sentence and yet it was enough to make his cheeks redden. But that was the small things he lived for now. His eyes found his plate for a second. You may have been dating for more than two years, some things never went away. And blushing when you made any sort of compliment was one of them.

“96?”

Spencer looked up, confused “What do you mean, 96?”

“Isn’t it your heartbeat right now?” you smirked.

Yeah, there was definitely nothing that he’d change in his life. Every time, in every universe, he’d take a quiet life with you.

[magellanicclouds]

Just some messy little Jortana that showed up in the margins of a different art. 💙 ; u ; 

[ladyknightskye]

How did I??? Never reblog this ??? It’s now a piece of emotional comfort artwork iiee-

[homunculus-argument]

"I learned a lot from making this" is artist talk for "making this sucked ass and I'm not entirely happy with the result."

[animelionessmika]

^what artistic growth feels like

[pixiecaps]

had a guy ask me today “But how do u know u like women.. like for real….” as if dreaming about sucking tits at an early age is rocket science to figure out

[pixiecaps]

thats how i’ve also chosen to explain it to people. hey mom how did YOUU know you liked men?🤨 its that simple .

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

[insert-witty-user-name-here]

[mozie-2-0]

Dear author, dear lyricist, dear creator.

You're falling asleep. The bed is warm, it's soft, it's peaceful. There's an idea brewing in your head.

I'll write it down when I wake up. I'll remember, you tell yourself.

Dear creator, open your fucking eyes and then your notes app, lest you want to call yourself an imbecile and agonize trying to remember it throughout the entire next day.

*bows, exits stage*

[titsliker]

i feel lightheaded

[eurussssssssssssssss]

should’ve checked his pockets smh 🙄

[cyberhick420]

I was recently made aware that the Halo communities trademark hatred for anything new goes all the way back to Halo 2….yah know, halo 2, one of the most glazed games in the franchise(as well as glazed games ever)and is widely considered one of the if not THE fan favorite, was heavily hated…this communities opinions no longer hold any value to me whatso-fucking-ever lmao(i mean they alr didn’t but still)

[bfoxanimation]

Let them in, if they're cold, your cold

[alienbycomics]

A history and mythology lesson reminding you that trans and non-binary people have always existed! [Long post]