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Gender Neutral Reader
Melancholia: Reader has been acting weird lately, so Spencer makes a much needed wellness check.
Homemade: Stuck in quarantine, Reader decides to make some skincare masks with their boyfriend. They talk about some heavy stuff with green faces.
Diamonds: Spencer comforts Reader when they have a bad pain day.
Rotten: Reader struggles to feel at home in their body following a trauma.
Repentance: Spencer is confronted with his second chance at life, finding it full of regrets. Reader tries to talk him through it.
All Mixed Up: Dyslexic!Reader struggles to order at the restaurant, so Spencer helps them through it.
The Mother Wound: Spencer and Reader bond over the difficulty of an emotionally absent mother.
Female Reader
Porcelain: Autistic!Reader has a meltdown in the cafe. Luckily, there is a Dr. Reid nearby.
Baggage Claim: Autistic!Reader is having a hard time at the airport.
In the Dark: Spencer comforts Reader following an assault and the nightmares it provoked.
Sharks & Symbiosis: Spencer helps Reader through her time of the month, and ends up talking way too much about fish.
Prickly Pear: Reader tries to hide her body hair from Spencer. It doesn't end well.
Honeysuckle Hair: Spencer has some words to say about Reader’s curly hair.
Act Your Age: Platonic. Reader was recently released from being held hostage for several years, and for whatever reason, she’s taken a liking to Spencer.
Gender Neutral Reader
Happy Endings
Haunted: Spencer’s never told anyone what happened in prison.
Female Reader
Happy Endings
Not Your Backup: Following JJ’s confession, Spencer admits she’s more like a sister to him. Spencer and JJ argue about JJ’s unwarranted jealousy of his girlfriend.
My Angel: Reader’s been drugged and Spencer has to talk her down.
Rib Cage: Spencer realizes Reader is the one, but it might be too late. He has to find her.
My Only Chance: The BAU is after one of the most prolific serial killers in the world, but she swears she’s innocent.
From the Tree: The kidnapping case becomes personal when Spencer and Reader get a call from their nanny.
Moonlight: Spencer tells Reader’s boyfriend how she really feels.
Heartbreaking Endings
Passing in the Night: Spencer learns about Reader’s feelings too late and loses his own battle as a result.
Forbidden Fruit: When Professor Reid falls in love with a student, he learns why Adam choked on the Forbidden Fruit.
It’s Not You, It’s Her: Anti-Reader. Spencer realizes he’ll never love Reader the way he loves Maeve.
summary = While going through a restricted room for files, Spencer and Reader are nearly caught. To protect what they’ve discovered, she whispers one impossible request "kiss me". And suddenly what starts as a cover becomes something far harder to fake.
content warning = kissing and making out but no smut. just touchy Spencer being needy without realisation.
The precinct air felt heavier at night. The room light was harsh and sterile, the kind that made everything feel more exposed than it should be. You were leaning over the conference table, palms flat against the surface, pulse a little too fast for how still you were trying to stay.
Hotch stood at the head of the room, arms folded, jaw tight. His gaze kept flicking between you and Spencer. He could sense it, not just the tension from the case, but something else. You hoped he didn’t name it. You couldn’t afford to have it named.
Spencer was next to you. Too close, honestly. You could feel the heat radiating from his arm, the light pressure of his sleeve brushing yours when he shifted. It was stupid. Three years in the BAU and you were still like this. Still ridiculously aware of every small movement he made, every time his voice dipped low when he was thinking out loud, every time he met your eyes like he didn’t mean to, like he couldn’t help it.
You were here to talk about the case. That was the whole point. And yet all you could think about was how it felt standing beside him, how the sharp scent of his aftershave mixed with the paper and dust and tension hanging in the room.
You tried to focus.
“There’s something they’re not telling us Hotch" you said, your voice sharper than intended.
Hotch raised an eyebrow. “Specifics?”
You hesitated, just long enough to feel Spencer’s eyes on you. His silence wasn’t passive, it never was. It was heavy. Calculated. A sign that he was either about to say something you’d been trying not to admit to yourself, or that he wanted you to be the one to say it first.
So you did. “Something's off not just about this case but this whole secrecy between the officers.” you said. “The way they’re handling this… they’re not just uncooperative. It’s like they’re trying to control what we see.”
Hotch didn’t answer right away. His eyes were locked on you, analytical, reading between the lines the same way he always did. You felt Spencer shift slightly beside you, hands in the pockets of his cardigan, brows drawn as he looked down at the files again.
“And there are gaps in every report,” Spencer said, his voice quiet but steady. “They’re too clean. Too consistent to be random. Like someone edited them before we even got access.”
He leaned in a little, fingers brushing lightly over the corner of the crime scene photo as he pointed to a timestamp. “This is the second scene. They said the footage was corrupted… but this mark.. see that? That’s from a recorder pause. Manual. Someone stopped the tape.”
You nodded, swallowing hard. It wasn’t fear exactly. It was pressure. The tight, growing weight in your chest that something about this case was much bigger than what was written in ink. Your heart was already pounding a little too fast, but not just because of the evidence. It was because of him.
The fluorescent light caught the soft angles of his face and the way his jaw tensed when he was concentrating, the small furrow in his brow. His hair had fallen slightly over his forehead again, and you felt that stupid, familiar ache start to crawl up your spine.
You’d liked him since the beginning truthfully. Since that awkward, rainy morning three years ago when you walked into Quantico for the first time and he offered you coffee without ever looking directly at you.
It had started slow with quiet admiration, long glances, late night case talks and his comforting words to make you feel better. He was in BAU for a few years before you joined, he knew how things worked and how badly it affects you in the beginning. Therefore he was always ready to show his support towards you. But it wasn't just calming words to you. It was something more.
Now, watching him piece together the parts of something dangerous, watching the way his brain worked through layers and lies, it hit you all over again. Hard.
You didn’t realize you were staring until he glanced up.
His eyes met yours.
Sharp. Soft. Curious.
There was a flicker of something behind them, something unreadable but far from indifferent. And suddenly the air between you felt different. Not heavy. Not cold.
Just… charged. And you wonder if he feels that same feeling inside your chest like butterflies are everywhere and for a second everything but his fades away.
Then Hotch’s phone buzzed. The moment snapped.
He answered with that clipped, professional tone, then tapped the screen to put the call on speaker. Garcia’s voice crackled through, bright but serious.
“Okay, boss. You’re not gonna like this. I did a bit of digging after you sent me those scans and guess what our sweet little department’s been hiding?”
Hotch looked at you and Spencer, jaw set. “What did you find?”
“A whole ass room, that’s what I found,” Garcia said. “It’s buried in the building’s floor plans, looks like a completely normal room. No surveillance, no active logins. Just… nothing. Like it’s locked off from everyone. But someone’s using it. And I've found out It’s where they’re keeping files that don’t show up in their regular system.”
Spencer looked up sharply. You could already see the wheels turning in his head.
“Someone doesn’t want us in there,” he said under his breath.
“Exactly,” Garcia replied. “Which means you have to get in. The door should be open right now until 5pm. Which means you better hurry up before they close it off for the night”
Hotch didn’t hesitate. “Reid. You’re going in. Take her with you.”
You blinked. Spencer looked over at you.
The weight of his eyes again. Not soft this time. Serious. And Something about the way Hotch said it felt heavier than it should’ve.
Spencer straightened his shoulders and nodded. “We’ll find it.”
You swallowed the nerves crawling up your throat. It wasn’t the hidden room that made your heart beat faster.
It was going in there with him.
The hallway beyond the main bullpen was poorly lit, lined with locked doors and empty desks that hadn’t seen use in years. You could still hear the low murmur of officers talking in the squad room a floor below. Too many bodies, too many eyes. But Hotch had bought you a window, and it wouldn’t last long.
Spencer walked ahead of you, quiet and quick. His posture was a little stiff, like he knew you weren’t supposed to be here but he was going anyway. That part didn’t surprise you. He always followed the rules… until he didn’t. You’d seen it more than once on cases like this when something about the math didn’t add up, when the facts refused to sit still. That’s when he changed. Still soft-spoken, still polite… but sharp. Focused. Unflinching.
The badge clipped to your hip swung slightly as you walked. It wouldn’t help you here. Not in this situation where everyone is hiding the reality of the case from agents.
“Wait,” you whispered, grabbing Spencer’s arm gently just before the corner.
He paused, turning his head just enough to hear you, and you could feel the warmth of his body even with the space between you. It was stupid, but your fingers tingled where they’d brushed his sleeve. You dropped your hand.
“Two officers coming down the west stairs,” you murmured.
Spencer nodded once, barely perceptible, then leaned in closer than necessary to point toward a side door you hadn’t noticed before. “Janitor’s closet. Connects to the file corridor. If we cut through, we can reach the archive wing from behind.”
You blinked. “You sure?”
He gave the faintest smile. “I memorized the blueprint Garcia sent.”
Of course he did.
You slipped in behind him, pressing the door shut just as footsteps echoed down the hallway behind you. Inside, it smelled like bleach and old paper towels. Dark. Cramped. Close.
You could feel his breath. Hear the tiny inhale he tried to stifle when your shoulder accidentally brushed his chest.
You didn’t say anything. Neither did he.
By the time you reached the sealed corridor Garcia mentioned, your pulse was back under control.. barely. The hallway here was silent. No cameras. No badge scanner, just an old room with a cracked door.
Spencer stepped forward, fingers gliding over the handle pushing it down slowly until the door creaked open.
Inside, it was dusty like nobody's entered it in weeks. Room reeking of poor insulation and secrets. Metal shelves lined the walls, stacked with unlabeled folders, worn tape reels, and scattered evidence boxes. At the side of the room, a waist-high counter stretched beneath a long strip of flickering fluorescent light.
“We won’t have much time,” you said, but your voice felt far away. You quickly started searching for the box of documents you needed to find.
Because the moment you stepped fully inside, something changed.
It was the silence. The proximity. The fact that you and Spencer were suddenly alone, surrounded by sealed truths and flickering shadows. You told yourself it didn’t matter. That it was just another room, just another case, and that the flutter in your stomach was from adrenaline.
But it wasn’t.
"I found it." Spencer called out, his voice pulling you back to your feet as you make your way back to the front of the room.
You moved toward the counter, trying to shake it off. Focus. That’s all you had to do. You weren’t the type to swoon over someone just because they smelled like old books and stood too close in the dark. You weren’t seventeen.
You hoisted yourself up onto the counter, hoping your knees wouldn't feel so weak anymore. Boots thudding softly against the metal as you settled on the edge. Casual. Confident. Or so you hoped.
Spencer didn’t sit. He stood beside you, shoulder inches from your knee, fingers flipping carefully through the packet he’d pulled from the shelf.
“This is it,” he said, thumbing the corner of a faded document. “These files, none of them were scanned into the system. These are the originals.”
You leaned toward him without realizing it. The scent of his cologne — barely there, clean, something warm — hit you again, and you had to focus on the folder in your lap to keep from looking at him.
He kept reading, shifting a little closer without meaning to. His arm brushed your leg this time.
Neither of you moved.
The air felt heavier here. Not dangerous, just… charged. Like even though you were both focusing on the yet to be solved case, you understood there's unspoken words yet to be said.
You wondered if he noticed. If he felt it, too.
But Spencer was impossible to read. His eyes stayed on the files, mouth slightly parted in concentration. But there was a faint flush at the edge of his collar. Barely there. But real.
You turned a page, pretending not to notice. Pretending you weren’t thinking about how easy it would be to reach over. To tuck that curl behind his ear. To say something you couldn’t take back.
But instead, you cleared your throat.
“Anything useful?”
Spencer blinked, almost startled. Then nodded. “Very. Did you find anything?”
Still no distance between you. "Just the information we already have"
Still no words about it yet he hums in agreement.
The door had clicked shut behind you both just ten minutes ago. You and Spencer stood alone in the dim room, lit only by the buzzing fluorescents overhead.
“This is insane,” you muttered under your breath, flipping through one of the file boxes on the shelf. “I mean, this whole section’s been completely hidden from any reports.”
“Not just hidden,” Spencer said from beside you, pulling out another manila folder. “Look at this... These are from the original investigation. Some of these witness statements never made it into the official file we were given.”
You turned and leaned against the metal counter, trying to act unaffected trying to ignore how close he was to you now, how warm his voice was even when he was being clinical. "I can't believe they'd think that we wouldn't be able to find out about this."
He stood only a foot away. His eyes flicked over the page in his hands, jaw tensed, brows pulled tight. You’d known Spencer for three years now. Joined the BAU together. Watched him from the other side of glass, from across motel rooms, jet seats, crime scenes.
You wanted to say something, but you got distracted again just watching the way his lips moved while he read.
It wasn’t fair. You bottled up so many emotions towards him, of course sometimes there's gonna be cracks and you can't hold back.
But he was so focused. So serious. And all you could think about was how badly you wanted to run your thumb along the edge of his jaw. How your stomach kept flipping every time he looked at you for too long.
You were about to say something anything when footsteps echoed down the hallway.
You both froze.
Spencer’s hand tightened around the folder. You turned your head slowly toward the slightly ajar door — and that’s when you hear it.
An officer talking into a radio, his footsteps getting closer and closer with the keys dangling in his hand.
You didn’t even breathe.
His voice carried faintly as he muttered something into his mic maybe checking in with someone, maybe just stopping to listen.
The door was open enough that if he glanced in. if he took one step closer, he’d see everything.
The documents. The open drawers. You. Him.
Your pulse spiked hard in your ears. You looked at Spencer. His jaw was clenched, eyes wide but actions swift as he moved the documents behind the now closed box. As if not one document left that box in the first place.
But you both knew there's no excuse for you being there regardless of that closed box. There's no reason you could've went to a floor that's not in use, lights off, door barely open.
And then, without thinking, you grabbed his sleeve, pulling him between your legs and whispered:
“Spencer, kiss me.”
He turned so fast it was almost comical. “What?!”
“He’s gonna look in here,” you said in a rush. “We have no excuse, no way of leaving. Pretend we're- you know..”
Spencer’s mouth opened, stunned silent, eyes darting between your face and the doorway. “I—”
And then he moved.
He stepped forward, fast and sharp, and suddenly he was pressed up against you, hand braced against the counter beside your hip. The other one found your waist—awkward at first, but then steady.
Then his lips were on yours.
And just like that—your brain short-circuited.
You hadn’t thought it through. Not the part where his breath would catch. Or the way his fingers tightened slightly, unsure, until you kissed him back. The heat of his chest against yours. The way his lips were soft but nervous, like he didn’t know how to fake this kind of thing, because maybe he’d never wanted to fake it.
You heard movement outside.
But you didn’t stop. Because his hands became greedy, pulling you closer by your waist. Your legs now wrapped around him, hand tugging on his perfect curls as he whimpers into your mouth from the feeling.
He leaned in more. Letting you touch him, letting you feel his soft hair as your other hand slid up his chest, curling lightly into the collar of his shirt.
And that’s when the door creaked wide open. Right when his hands fiddled with the top buttons on your shirt, completely forgetting about the officer, the case, the documents and where you were. His mind was filled with you.
“Oh—uh—whoa.”
You barely pulled away, still taking one last second of that kiss to cherish when you've cleared your head.
The officer stood in the doorway, blinking at the sight of you tangled together.
“Well… that’s one way to kill time on shift,” he said, laughing under his breath.
You broke the kiss and turned quickly, trying to hide your red face in Spencer’s shoulder. “Oh my god Spence I told you we were being reckless,” you said, feigning flustered giggles. Trying to hide the reality between what was actually going on.
Spencer stammered something like, “Sorry.. uh-we didn’t mean to-”
The officer held up a hand, shaking his head. “You agents are all the same. I’ll let it slide, but this room’s off limits. Go somewhere else and take your, uh… moment, somewhere else too.”
You laughed nervously again, until you felt Spencer's hand tighten on you, picking you up before placing you back on the ground and pulling your hand in his. “C'mon.”
Spencer managed a crooked, helpless smile. the worst actor you’d ever seen and while you pretend to fix your clothes, the officer obviously feeling the need to face the other way, Spencer slowly slid one of the folders to the side with his sleeve as you shifted off the counter. Your hand stayed casually on top of the incriminating file, sliding it smoothly under your jacket.
The officer didn’t seem to notice.
Didn’t even glance at either of you anymore, simply focusing on locking the door the second Spencer stepped out the door.
As you two walked out, shoulders brushing, you could feel Spencer vibrating with tension beside you.
You kept your expression calm, playful. But your heart was still racing.
And behind the flush on his cheeks and the scatter in his breath, Spencer Reid looked like a man who was never, ever, going to forget that kiss.
A/N = if you enjoyed please check out my other works, im new and it'd really help out to see if I should continue if people are interested :)
Summary: Reader has worked hard to get to the FBI, but a misunderstanding has her feeling insecure.
Pairing: Spencer Reid / Fem!Reader
Word Count: 2.5k
Genre: Fluff
Rating: PG
Content Warning: Mention of normal criminal minds stuff briefly.
A/n: I got these two requests and they were so similar I decided to combine them. I hope that’s okay, but I feel like the stories would have been almost identical.
Requests:
- I have a fic suggestion. Reader pretends to be dumb but is actually really smart. I’m thinking of that quote about marilyn ”you have to be really smart to pretend to be dumb”. One day spencer realizes that reader is smarter than she lets people know.
- Hi! Can I request a spencer reid x reader fic where reader isn’t great with numbers but brilliant with behaviour and humanities (i.e. literature, history, sociology, up to you)? Maybe a dash of insecurity to spice things up?
– Learning Styles –
My favorite professor in college told me that everyone learns differently; what works for one person won’t work in the same way for another. We are all different human beings that are shaped in different ways.
I had always been oddly insecure about my intelligence level. One of my earliest memories was my mother yelling at me while I sat at the kitchen table when I was in first grade. I was the only kid in my class who still hadn’t learned how to read. I just didn’t understand. All of my friends were progressing so much quicker than me and my mother was losing patience.
