Evie

| The number of pathogens passed during a handshake is staggering. It's actually safer to kiss. |

[nerdiculous]

The Nerdiculous Life of a Girl

Requests: open (anything Spencer Reid)

Evie • 21 • she/her

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[nerdiculous]

Never Again

Part 2/2

Part one

Pairing : Spencer Reid x F!Reader

Warnings : This is not a happy ending :(

A/N : You’ve been warned! So… sorry in advance

Spencer hadn’t heard a word from her since they left. She’d been icy when he’d taken the call and all but told him to get out afterwards. He didn’t have time to spend arguing with her to make her see how important it was so he simply left. Every night he called her, any free chance he got he called her. And every single call went straight to her voice mail.

He wasn’t angry. He understood why she was mad, he was sad she couldn’t see the importance of his work but he was trying. He wanted to see her side just as desperately as he wanted her to see his.

And so, when the plane landed he got in his little vintage car and drove straight to her place. The doorbell rang for the third time. He called her name. “Please. Please if you’re inside can we talk?” He fidgeted. He straightened his tie and pulled his sweater vest taught. He wanted to look nice for her, even if she wasn’t answering his calls, and he felt grimy after the long flight.

The door cracked open. She looked tired. “I’m busy.” She said curtly. His smile fell. He hadn’t even realised he’d been smiling, he was just so over come with joy upon seeing her that it happened so naturally.

“I-I know. Of course.” He stammered out. “I don’t expect you not to be. I just… I would really like to talk. And preferably come inside and have this conversation.”

When she stepped aside he hurriedly entered, afraid she’d take it back all too quickly. He could feel his heart race from nerves and the sweat perspire on his skin. He fixed his collar and swallowed. He shouldn’t have left, repeated his guilty conscience. He knew how precious breaking those boundaries and going beyond after the first time they said they love one another would be. And yet… he had left.

Work was work. He didn’t get to dictate when he could and couldn’t go. She seemed to understand that when they first started going out. She understood when he left after the first time they slept together.

But now… it was like those three simple words had broken them. Saying “I love you” was something precious, something to be honoured and cherished. She’d never said it before, to anyone romantically. Yet, she’d said it to him. And he’d abused that trust and abandoned her. He felt physically sick.

“I called you.” He stupidly blurted. He was, for once, at a total loss on what to say or do. All he could rely on was the first thing, first thought that jumped into his mind.

“I know.” She whispered. He felt his heart shatter. He’d known, of course he’d known, that she’d seen every missed call. Most likely waited until he hung up or reached the end of his dial tone. But hearing her admit that she’d ignored every single one. He had to restrain himself from crying.

“Oh. Right. You were probably too busy to pick up…”

“I was.”

How could he make this right? He wanted to demand, beg, scream. Instead he quietly unbuttoned and buttoned his vest as he gathered his thoughts.

“I thought you wanted to talk.”

“I do!”

“So talk.” Her answers were clipped. Short, demanding, harsh. Everything he knew her not to be. She was sweet and gentle, her laughter felt like the rays of sun on a brisk winter; they melted snow and brought spring to life.

But today she was as cold as any winter night. No sunshine in sight.

“First of all I want to apologise for-for leaving.” He nodded to himself as he scrambled for rational thought. “It was unfair of me to do that during such a beloved moment, but I have no choice when it comes to work. I go when I’m called. You knew this when we first started dating.” He stated logically, believing if he laid things out simply put she’d understand and things would return to normal.

She didn’t argue or dispute him. She… just looked so tired. Spencer faltered. What he was saying was correct, he was positively sure of that. But there was something about her tired expression that he just knew in the pit of his stomach would haunt him forevermore.

“I did know this.” Her voice was soft. “Which is why…. I can’t pretend this is okay anymore.” She let out a shaky breath. Panic seized Spencer’s entire body. He had so many things to say! So many ways to assure her, to apologise, to show her that it is okay. But his body refused to cooperate, and he was forced to listen to her as each word pierced his heart. “In the beginning I used to cancel all my plans just in case you would call. I stopped going out and started staying in. Lost track of a few friends along the way…” She paused. “I’m not pinning this on you. You never made me do any of this. I did it myself. But it’s… just not healthy Spencer. And I can’t sit by the phone every night waiting on those calls I can’t. I just can’t!”

A heavy silence settled between them after she expelled all her pain. Spencer wanted to remain silent, vainly hoping it would protect the fragility of their relationship. But it wasn’t in his character to leave things unanswered. “What does this mean for us?”

She bit her lip and met his gaze with tearful eyes. “I can’t do this anymore. Never again will I allow myself to feel this way I just… can’t.” She no longer sounded angry. She sounded defeated.

There was a million ways he could dispute her claims and take her into his arms again. But none that would be entirely truthful. He couldn’t promise her this would never again happen. He simply couldn’t… that was the nature of his work.

That was why he smiled sadly and said. “I really do love you.” Before gathering her into his arms and letting her cry on him one last time. He smoothed her hair down with a shaky hand. The action a small comfort to himself as hot tears fell on the crown of her head.

- -

Taglist:

@casey1-2007

[nerdiculous]

Opening up a taglist for my How Do I Love Thee? Spencer reid x reader series.

Comment below if you want to be tagged in it

[nerdiculous]

I Love Thee To The Depth And Breadth And Height

Pairing : BAU!Professor!Spencer Reid x F!Uni!Reader

Warnings : None

Summary : Spencer Reid had all but given up on romantic relationships. They required time and effort, both of which he could no longer afford to spare. However, as he reached for Sonnets from the Portuguese, for some light reading in the Library, a complex neurobiological phenomenon occurred. His brain chemicals were flooded with dopamine and serotonin and Spencer Reid did the one thing he swore impossible; he fell in love at first sight.

A/N : Happy Halloween!

Halloween night. The one night of the year when people had the freedom to dress up in whatever weird and whacky costumes they desired. Unfortunately for you, you were stuck in classes.

You chewed your pen incessantly, drumming your fingers on the table in frustration. Most people had skived, leaving a very empty lecture hall.

Your thoughts drifted. The assignment you’d handed in for your English Literature class received all positive feedback. But your professor had said there was something missing. A connection. Like you had missed the head of the nail. Your analysis was perfect, you’d delved beneath the surface and connected points they hadn’t even concocted. And yet… they had told you there was a disconnect between you and your work. Like you could analyse How Do I Love Thee? but not connect.

This deeply concerned you. If your lack of a romantic life could be so clearly perceived in your work then your head wasn’t in the game. Which meant your work would suffer, ergo your grades.

The thoughts churned in your head with a mind numbing hum, like the monotonous turnover in a laundromat. Suddenly, the door banged open. You lifted your head up and there he was…

“Sorry, sorry.” He breezed to the front of the lesson. “My name’s Dr. Spencer Reid. I’m substituting… substituting…” He trailed off as he met your eyes. You offered a polite smile. He cleared his throat.

“I’m substituting for the day.” He cleared his throat and continued with the lecture. Truth be told, you hadn’t a clue which theories of crime were being discussed. All you could possibly focus on was him. The way his words sped up when he got really passionate about explaining a question, or the way his fingers nervously fidgeted when he was met with awkward silence at his own questions. Every manner, every action, every breath had you teetering over the edge. Yearning for more.

The classroom had emptied out. The students had all quickly skittered away when Dr. Reid called the class to an end. They were desperate to get home and throw on their costumes before partying the night away. It was quiet save for the soft hum of the projector cooling down and the faint scratch of a dry-erase marker being capped.

You hadn’t moved, frozen at your desk with your notebook open but pen idle between your fingers. You kept telling yourself that you need to stay to clarify a concept from today’s lecture, but the truth was simpler than that.

You wanted a few extra minutes with Dr. Spencer Reid.

He stood at the front of the room, stacking books with the kind of gentle care most people reserve for things that breathed. His sleeves were rolled to his elbows, revealing toned forearms. He looked more like a scholar who fell out of an old library than someone who belonged in a fluorescent-lit university classroom.

“Did you need something?” he asked without looking up.

You blink. How did he always know?

“Oh, um—yeah.” You awkwardly stumbled to your feet, cursing yourself inwardly, you made the treacherous walk toward the front, hoping your racing heartbeat wasn’t visible through your shirt. “I was just… confused about the section on cognitive heuristics.” You fibbed. Truthfully, it was the only point of the lecture you had briefly clued in at.

At last he lifted his head to look at you. Warm brown eyes, soft but focused, drew your breath away.

“That’s a good concern,” he says easily, and smiles. It’s small. But it’s real. Your knees are unreasonable about it. He leans against the desk, hands folded loosely.

“So, remember how I said that heuristics are mental shortcuts? They help us make decisions quickly, but they’re also prone to bias. For example, if you meet someone once on a bad day, your brain might incorrectly catergorise them as an unfriendly person.” He pauses. “Even if that isn’t the truth.”

“So if you meet someone on a good day your brain might also conclude the opposite then? That…”You begin your hypothesis, “they’re unfriendly but your brain categorises them as friendly.” You nod to yourself, watching the way his face lit up at your conclusion.

“Precisely that.” He replied encouragingly. He said something after but it missed your attention, you were too busying comparing this interaction to the one in the library.

He tilts his head slightly noticing your absent mind. “Would it help if I gave you additional reading material? I think you’d appreciate Tversky and Kahneman’s early papers. Your notes are always very thorough.” He mistook your momentary lapse for confusion.

Your breath caught in your throat. He noticed your notes? But how… he didn’t normally take this class. Suddenly you felt very dizzy.

“Yes. I—um—I’d really like that.” Your words stumbled over one another. His smile deepened, just enough for a dimple to appear. It was completely unfair for someone to look so strikingly handsome.

He opened his bag and scribbled something on a sticky note. When he handed it to you, your fingers brushed. A spark, the same one that had your entire body on fire in the library…

“This is my email,” he says, glossing over your moment of deja vu. “Send me a message, and I’ll forward the articles.”

His voice is calm and professional. For a moment your stomach drops. It didn’t seem like he remembered you from the library. Why would he? He was some genius professor covering for your usual mentor. And yet, he was still kind…

You press the note between your fingers like it’s something precious. “Thank you, Dr. Reid.”

You spun on your heel to go before your face gives away every secret you have ever had. He calls your name. You stop. Hesitantly, you glance back.

His expression is gentle. Curious. Soft in the way sunlight is soft through a library window. “Did you enjoy How Do I Love Thee?”

Your breath leaves you all at once. He remembered. He really remembered you. Spencer shifted on his feet when he got no response, it clicked in your brain that you were simply gawking at him. “Yes!” Your voice comes out too quickly and too loud, to rectify your stupidity. Inwardly you cringed. You shouldn’t be allowed to talk with people. “Yes.” You said more smoothly. “I handed in my paper and got an A.” You’re not sure why you tell him this, but he looks happy nonetheless to know.

“I thought you didn’t teach the master students.” Your tone comes out accusatory. Spencer laughed at the briskness, you flushed at your fumble.

“My colleague was sick and asked if I’d cover for her. Besides I…” He hesitated, a confession simmering on his tongue. “I also had a second agenda.” He admitted.

“A second agenda?” You echoed in surprise. “So you’d… sacrifice your Halloween night for it?”

Spencer looked unsure whether he should divulge more information or not. Eventually, his heart won out. “I wondered if you took this class.” He rubbed the back of his neck again. “I suppose I wanted to see you again.”

You were at a loss for words. He wanted to see you. Your heart hammered in your chest, desperate to break free. “I was hoping you’d… perhaps accept my invitation to have coffee with sometime?” His tone was more formal than before, like this was something he had rehearsed. “We could discuss the extra materials I assigned for you.” He quickly added, as if academia was the only way to your heart.

“Yes.” You whisper before allowing your brain a chance to catch up with your melting heart. With that you quickly scurried out of the room, before your heart could spill from your chest.

Behind you, Spencer Reid thoughtfully watched you go, like he’s just observed something fascinating and wasn’t quite sure what it meant yet.

[nerdiculous]

I Love Thee To The Depth And Breadth And Height

Part one

Pairing : BAU!Professor!Spencer Reid x F!Uni!Reader

Warnings : None

Summary : Spencer Reid had all but given up on romantic relationships. They required time and effort, both of which he could no longer afford to spare. However, as he reached for Sonnets from the Portuguese, for some light reading in the Library, a complex neurobiological phenomenon occurred. His brain chemicals were flooded with dopamine and serotonin and Spencer Reid did the one thing he swore impossible; he fell in love at first sight.

A/N : Happy Halloween!

Halloween night. The one night of the year when people had the freedom to dress up in whatever weird and whacky costumes they desired. Unfortunately for you, you were stuck in classes.

You chewed your pen incessantly, drumming your fingers on the table in frustration. Most people had skived, leaving a very empty lecture hall.

Your thoughts drifted. The assignment you’d handed in for your English Literature class received all positive feedback. But your professor had said there was something missing. A connection. Like you had missed the head of the nail. Your analysis was perfect, you’d delved beneath the surface and connected points they hadn’t even concocted. And yet… they had told you there was a disconnect between you and your work. Like you could analyse How Do I Love Thee? but not connect.

This deeply concerned you. If your lack of a romantic life could be so clearly perceived in your work then your head wasn’t in the game. Which meant your work would suffer, ergo your grades.

The thoughts churned in your head with a mind numbing hum, like the monotonous turnover in a laundromat. Suddenly, the door banged open. You lifted your head up and there he was…

“Sorry, sorry.” He breezed to the front of the lesson. “My name’s Dr. Spencer Reid. I’m substituting… substituting…” He trailed off as he met your eyes. You offered a polite smile. He cleared his throat.

“I’m substituting for the day.” He cleared his throat and continued with the lecture. Truth be told, you hadn’t a clue which theories of crime were being discussed. All you could possibly focus on was him. The way his words sped up when he got really passionate about explaining a question, or the way his fingers nervously fidgeted when he was met with awkward silence at his own questions. Every manner, every action, every breath had you teetering over the edge. Yearning for more.

The classroom had emptied out. The students had all quickly skittered away when Dr. Reid called the class to an end. They were desperate to get home and throw on their costumes before partying the night away. It was quiet save for the soft hum of the projector cooling down and the faint scratch of a dry-erase marker being capped.

You hadn’t moved, frozen at your desk with your notebook open but pen idle between your fingers. You kept telling yourself that you need to stay to clarify a concept from today’s lecture, but the truth was simpler than that.

You wanted a few extra minutes with Dr. Spencer Reid.

He stood at the front of the room, stacking books with the kind of gentle care most people reserve for things that breathed. His sleeves were rolled to his elbows, revealing toned forearms. He looked more like a scholar who fell out of an old library than someone who belonged in a fluorescent-lit university classroom.

“Did you need something?” he asked without looking up.

You blink. How did he always know?

“Oh, um—yeah.” You awkwardly stumbled to your feet, cursing yourself inwardly, you made the treacherous walk toward the front, hoping your racing heartbeat wasn’t visible through your shirt. “I was just… confused about the section on cognitive heuristics.” You fibbed. Truthfully, it was the only point of the lecture you had briefly clued in at.

At last he lifted his head to look at you. Warm brown eyes, soft but focused, drew your breath away.

“That’s a good concern,” he says easily, and smiles. It’s small. But it’s real. Your knees are unreasonable about it. He leans against the desk, hands folded loosely.

“So, remember how I said that heuristics are mental shortcuts? They help us make decisions quickly, but they’re also prone to bias. For example, if you meet someone once on a bad day, your brain might incorrectly catergorise them as an unfriendly person.” He pauses. “Even if that isn’t the truth.”

“So if you meet someone on a good day your brain might also conclude the opposite then? That…”You begin your hypothesis, “they’re unfriendly but your brain categorises them as friendly.” You nod to yourself, watching the way his face lit up at your conclusion.

“Precisely that.” He replied encouragingly. He said something after but it missed your attention, you were too busying comparing this interaction to the one in the library.

He tilts his head slightly noticing your absent mind. “Would it help if I gave you additional reading material? I think you’d appreciate Tversky and Kahneman’s early papers. Your notes are always very thorough.” He mistook your momentary lapse for confusion.

Your breath caught in your throat. He noticed your notes? But how… he didn’t normally take this class. Suddenly you felt very dizzy.

“Yes. I—um—I’d really like that.” Your words stumbled over one another. His smile deepened, just enough for a dimple to appear. It was completely unfair for someone to look so strikingly handsome.

He opened his bag and scribbled something on a sticky note. When he handed it to you, your fingers brushed. A spark, the same one that had your entire body on fire in the library…

“This is my email,” he says, glossing over your moment of deja vu. “Send me a message, and I’ll forward the articles.”

His voice is calm and professional. For a moment your stomach drops. It didn’t seem like he remembered you from the library. Why would he? He was some genius professor covering for your usual mentor. And yet, he was still kind…

You press the note between your fingers like it’s something precious. “Thank you, Dr. Reid.”

You spun on your heel to go before your face gives away every secret you have ever had. He calls your name. You stop. Hesitantly, you glance back.

His expression is gentle. Curious. Soft in the way sunlight is soft through a library window. “Did you enjoy How Do I Love Thee?”

Your breath leaves you all at once. He remembered. He really remembered you. Spencer shifted on his feet when he got no response, it clicked in your brain that you were simply gawking at him. “Yes!” Your voice comes out too quickly and too loud, to rectify your stupidity. Inwardly you cringed. You shouldn’t be allowed to talk with people. “Yes.” You said more smoothly. “I handed in my paper and got an A.” You’re not sure why you tell him this, but he looks happy nonetheless to know.

“I thought you didn’t teach the master students.” Your tone comes out accusatory. Spencer laughed at the briskness, you flushed at your fumble.

“My colleague was sick and asked if I’d cover for her. Besides I…” He hesitated, a confession simmering on his tongue. “I also had a second agenda.” He admitted.

“A second agenda?” You echoed in surprise. “So you’d… sacrifice your Halloween night for it?”

Spencer looked unsure whether he should divulge more information or not. Eventually, his heart won out. “I wondered if you took this class.” He rubbed the back of his neck again. “I suppose I wanted to see you again.”

You were at a loss for words. He wanted to see you. Your heart hammered in your chest, desperate to break free. “I was hoping you’d… perhaps accept my invitation to have coffee with sometime?” His tone was more formal than before, like this was something he had rehearsed. “We could discuss the extra materials I assigned for you.” He quickly added, as if academia was the only way to your heart.

“Yes.” You whisper before allowing your brain a chance to catch up with your melting heart. With that you quickly scurried out of the room, before your heart could spill from your chest.

Behind you, Spencer Reid thoughtfully watched you go, like he’s just observed something fascinating and wasn’t quite sure what it meant yet.

[nerdiculous]

Never Before

Part 1/2

Pairing : Spencer Reid x F!Reader

Warnings : suggestive content, angst

A/N: Not me dropping a random angst fic on a Wednesday just cuz I was listening to “August” by Taylor Swift and thought yeah this is a really good angst moment

Calloused hands, from years of gun training, slid into your silken hair. “Are you sure?” Spencer whispered, tilting your head up in a vain attempt to coax a response from you.

It was hard to concentrate on his words, on his voice. Your eyes drifted to his lips. Leaning forwards, your own lips softly enveloped his. Spencer melted against you. But he had to be firm. He broke the kiss and smiled at the whiny complaint that slipped from your lips.

“Patience.” He chuckled, though was finding it hard to restrain himself. “I need you to be sure.”

“I am sure.” You confirmed, voice touched with impatience and irritation.

Spencer frowned like he disliked your tone, but he didn’t quarrel with you about it. “I know you’ve never before said I love you. I know this is precious. So I want to be sure you want this too. It’ll be different this time.”

“I don’t take saying it lightly.” You agreed with him somewhat. It would be different this time. This time you were being open, this time you’d confessed your love. “I know what I want. Who I want… and I want you. Only you.” You reassured him, your voice dropping into a placating whisper. It was true. You did want him. Only him. “I love you.” You echoed your earlier sentiments. “I love you so much.”

Perhaps in the past you had reservations about expressing your feelings, but not now. Now you were consumed with an overwhelming desire. A desire that you were desperate to put into words. It was a burning passion that you wanted… no, you needed to act upon.

Your hands drift to his shirt and pulled the knot of his tie undone. Spencer watched you with glazed, lustful eyes. It spurred you on. Hastily, you unbuttoned his shirt and in a hazy hurry you pushed it down his shoulders.

“You’re toned!” You squeaked in pleasant surprise. It shouldn’t be so shocking, he was away in the field more often than not that it made your heart ache. And yet, he had such an intense distaste for anything that even remotely alluded to exercise that it caught you off guard.

“What a brilliant observation.” He murmured dryly. But he wasn’t offended, he simply gazed at you in that adoring way that always made you ever so slightly uneasy. It was like he could read you so well, all the darkest parts of you that you kept locked in a safe, and yet he still adored every inch of you.

Spencer Reid was soft yet toned, pale and warm, fragile and resilient. And he was completely and utterly yours to love and adore.

Spencer’s hands glided along the smooth plain of your stomach. They itched to touch you everywhere. His lips found the sweet spot on your neck that always got a vocal response from you. Normally he’d laugh and recount an interesting fact about erogenous zones… but not today.

His lips ghosted further down. Trailing along your naked torso as his fingers hooked into your underwear. He looked up at you for permission and received a soft, needy “yes” as he tugged them off…

***

That night slipped away into a moment in time. Yet, as you woke up twisted in your bedsheets you couldn’t be happier.

It was early morning, the sun had only just risen and was peaking in through haphazardly closed curtains. You were too occupied last night to pay close attention to them.

Not that it mattered anyways. Your bedroom window overlooked an empty street.

You rested your head on his shoulder. His breathing was calm and steady. A major juxtaposition to how he was last night. Your body tingled in pleasant relief. It ached in the most satisfyingly delicious way. It was a reminder of passionate love shared between two soulmates.

But the peace was shattered all too soon.

Spencer’s phone rang. He blearily sat up and clumsily fumbled for his phone in his sleep asked state. “Don’t.” Your hand shot out and made a grab for his. Spencer looked at you in surprise, his sweet sleepy expression hardening into confusion.

“You know I have to answer it, Angel.” He pressed his lips to your temple. A sweet attempt at placating your concerns. “It could be nothing.”

“When is never nothing?” You bristled.

Spencer paused. The ringing stopped. There was no possible way he could’ve missed your anger. It wouldn’t take a genius profiler to detect the subtleties. No, your frustration was rolling off you in waves. It was as clear as the sky in a desert. So palpable that even the littlest of children would react to it.

“Sweet girl, what’s bothering you?” He coaxed you into a warm embrace.

“I get that your work is important but cmon Spence… we just made love. I mean literally,” you yanked away from him, “we made love. You and I. For the first time it was pure, unadulterated love.”

“I have to. You know this.” He frowned, his lips twisting upside down in reluctance.

You tore away from his hands completely, but not before you saw the hurt flicker across his sweet, adoring face. Guilt gnawed at your gut, but it was hard to concentrate on it when anger simmered in your heart. “I’m feeling a little like second best.” Your voice was soft, small, vulnerable.

“You’re not, you’re—.” His phone rang a second time. It sounded angrier than the first.

“I’m sorry. I have to… we can continue this after.” He picked it up, deft fingers already flipping it open and taking the call.

“Yeah.” You muttered. “I know.”

[nerdiculous]

Never Before

Part 1/2

Part two

Pairing : Spencer Reid x F!Reader

Warnings : suggestive content, angst

A/N: Not me dropping a random angst fic on a Wednesday just cuz I was listening to “August” by Taylor Swift and thought yeah this is a really good angst moment

Calloused hands, from years of gun training, slid into your silken hair. “Are you sure?” Spencer whispered, tilting your head up in a vain attempt to coax a response from you.

It was hard to concentrate on his words, on his voice. Your eyes drifted to his lips. Leaning forwards, your own lips softly enveloped his. Spencer melted against you. But he had to be firm. He broke the kiss and smiled at the whiny complaint that slipped from your lips.

“Patience.” He chuckled, though was finding it hard to restrain himself. “I need you to be sure.”

“I am sure.” You confirmed, voice touched with impatience and irritation.

Spencer frowned like he disliked your tone, but he didn’t quarrel with you about it. “I know you’ve never before said I love you. I know this is precious. So I want to be sure you want this too. It’ll be different this time.”

“I don’t take saying it lightly.” You agreed with him somewhat. It would be different this time. This time you were being open, this time you’d confessed your love. “I know what I want. Who I want… and I want you. Only you.” You reassured him, your voice dropping into a placating whisper. It was true. You did want him. Only him. “I love you.” You echoed your earlier sentiments. “I love you so much.”

Perhaps in the past you had reservations about expressing your feelings, but not now. Now you were consumed with an overwhelming desire. A desire that you were desperate to put into words. It was a burning passion that you wanted… no, you needed to act upon.

Your hands drift to his shirt and pulled the knot of his tie undone. Spencer watched you with glazed, lustful eyes. It spurred you on. Hastily, you unbuttoned his shirt and in a hazy hurry you pushed it down his shoulders.

“You’re toned!” You squeaked in pleasant surprise. It shouldn’t be so shocking, he was away in the field more often than not that it made your heart ache. And yet, he had such an intense distaste for anything that even remotely alluded to exercise that it caught you off guard.

“What a brilliant observation.” He murmured dryly. But he wasn’t offended, he simply gazed at you in that adoring way that always made you ever so slightly uneasy. It was like he could read you so well, all the darkest parts of you that you kept locked in a safe, and yet he still adored every inch of you.

Spencer Reid was soft yet toned, pale and warm, fragile and resilient. And he was completely and utterly yours to love and adore.

Spencer’s hands glided along the smooth plain of your stomach. They itched to touch you everywhere. His lips found the sweet spot on your neck that always got a vocal response from you. Normally he’d laugh and recount an interesting fact about erogenous zones… but not today.

His lips ghosted further down. Trailing along your naked torso as his fingers hooked into your underwear. He looked up at you for permission and received a soft, needy “yes” as he tugged them off…

***

That night slipped away into a moment in time. Yet, as you woke up twisted in your bedsheets you couldn’t be happier.

It was early morning, the sun had only just risen and was peaking in through haphazardly closed curtains. You were too occupied last night to pay close attention to them.

Not that it mattered anyways. Your bedroom window overlooked an empty street.

You rested your head on his shoulder. His breathing was calm and steady. A major juxtaposition to how he was last night. Your body tingled in pleasant relief. It ached in the most satisfyingly delicious way. It was a reminder of passionate love shared between two soulmates.

But the peace was shattered all too soon.

Spencer’s phone rang. He blearily sat up and clumsily fumbled for his phone in his sleep asked state. “Don’t.” Your hand shot out and made a grab for his. Spencer looked at you in surprise, his sweet sleepy expression hardening into confusion.

“You know I have to answer it, Angel.” He pressed his lips to your temple. A sweet attempt at placating your concerns. “It could be nothing.”

“When is never nothing?” You bristled.

Spencer paused. The ringing stopped. There was no possible way he could’ve missed your anger. It wouldn’t take a genius profiler to detect the subtleties. No, your frustration was rolling off you in waves. It was as clear as the sky in a desert. So palpable that even the littlest of children would react to it.

“Sweet girl, what’s bothering you?” He coaxed you into a warm embrace.

“I get that your work is important but cmon Spence… we just made love. I mean literally,” you yanked away from him, “we made love. You and I. For the first time it was pure, unadulterated love.”

“I have to. You know this.” He frowned, his lips twisting upside down in reluctance.

You tore away from his hands completely, but not before you saw the hurt flicker across his sweet, adoring face. Guilt gnawed at your gut, but it was hard to concentrate on it when anger simmered in your heart. “I’m feeling a little like second best.” Your voice was soft, small, vulnerable.

“You’re not, you’re—.” His phone rang a second time. It sounded angrier than the first.

“I’m sorry. I have to… we can continue this after.” He picked it up, deft fingers already flipping it open and taking the call.

“Yeah.” You muttered. “I know.”

[brattyspence]

change and time | s. reid

in which your family grows from 3 to 4, and your daughter is not a fan of the idea.

tags: girl dad!spencer, pregnant!reader, apprehensive daughter, fluff and cuddling and baby talk, not proofread, i am dealing with midterms pls b gentle with me

word count: 1.1k (who am i)

a/n: i keep watching ideas ive had in my drafts get written by author writers (which is so cool and awesome and its crazy that we come up with similar ideas without discussing them we r all so smart and sexy) but i am refusing to let this one get lost by my own laziness !!!! so here we go!!!! also i am not rlly off hiatus. this may very well be the end of me. but also i tend to say that and then get motivated again so idk man im just HERE RN

masterlist

Nobody had prepared either of you for the challenge that would be the process of becoming a four person household.

Charlotte was easy enough. Well mannered, kind to her friends, smart. She rarely complained, slept and ate well, and ultimately had given you and Spencer the confidence to try again with your second child.

What you hadn't planned for was the second baby wrecking havoc on your plans before their arrival. Much less that all of that havoc stemmed from Charlotte.

You were beyond excited to share the news with her when it was time, and you were confident she would be excited for the baby, too. And she was excited, at least for the first few weeks. Everything turned on its head the moment you'd began to feel the physical symptoms of pregnancy–ones that interfered with Charlotte’s daily routine.

“But why can't mommy drop me off?”

Charlotte's socked feet wriggled in the bathroom sink that morning, as she sat on the edge of the counter. She had been trying her best to let Spencer wrangle her curls into a somewhat presentable style, but being three was hard.

“Because mommy isn't feeling well. So we're going to let her sleep in.”

“But mommy always takes me to school.”

Her head dropped back, looking up at him with worried eyes. “And you're supposed to pick me up.”

“I know. But we're going to switch up our routine today to let mommy rest.”

This is usually where her inquiries would end. Spencer was entirely expecting that, and wasn't as equipped for her next set of questions.

“Why doesn't mommy feel good?”

Spencer finished tucking the last of her hair into place.

“It’s called morning sickness. When you have a baby in your belly, sometimes you wake up feeling a little sick.”

“The baby makes mommy sick?”

“In a way, yeah,” he nods. “But it won't last forever. You should go hug mom goodbye before we leave.”

That was enough reason for Charlotte to become skeptical about the idea of a sibling.

Then there was the nursery, and the furniture, and all the physical evidence that her life was about to change. A new highchair, that booted her to a new spot at the dinner table. Worst of all, the reality that aunts and uncles and friends would ask “how’s the baby doing?” before greeting Charlotte as they always did.

She had tried her best to let it go, but with each adding week, it became clearer she was worried.

And then, somewhere around month nine, she pushed open your bedroom door one morning as she always did. This was her time, as far as she was concerned. Half an hour dedicated to wiggling between the covers and finding a spot between you and Spencer, absorbing all the attention and affection she could before getting ready for school. Except today, her perfect morning was ruined by the sight of a shiny, new bassinet sitting at the corner of your bedroom.

You could tell something was wrong before she spoke. There was no leap into bed, no footsteps making their way closer, but instead a soft sniff from the doorway:

“Char,” Spencer starts, muffled by sleep and sheets. It was a question, but also an invitation.

“I don't want to be a big sister anymore.”

No one was prepared to have this conversation, certainly not at this hour.

“Charlotte,” you sigh, sitting up and attempting to find the switch on your bedside lamp. “Honey.”

“I don't want to,” she whines. “I don't want a baby.”

You blink, trying to focus your vision while your brain catches up in the process. You're not prepared for the sight of her, teary eyed and pouting at the foot of your bed.

“Come on,” you say, patting the empty space in the center of the bed.

She cautiously pulls herself up, and sits cross legged instead of sliding under the covers as usual. Her face is drawn in a frown, and underneath her guise of anger is sadness.

“I don't want-” she hiccups. “I don't want to be a sister anymore.”

Spencer rolls himself over, tugging the covers away as he always does, making room for her in the bed. As much as she's tries to be angry, Charlotte is quick to give in and climb into her spot.

“I thought you were excited,” Spencer says. He manages to scoop her up, pulling her right into his arms with no resistance. Again, she narrows her eyes, but she settles in anyway.

“No.”

“You were excited,” you nod. “You said you wanted to show the baby your new dollhouse just last week.”

“Uh-uh,” she shakes her head. “Not anymore. I don't want to share.”

You sigh, pausing for a moment. This conversation wasn't one you had planned for, much less at the bright and early hour she had chosen.

You pull the covers back up, sliding yourself into place so you're facing her. Like this, tucked right under Spencer's chin, you're reminded again that despite her knowledge and her big personality, she is still so little.

“Is that why you're upset?” You try. “You don't want to share?”

She nods.

“You know, the baby will have their own toys, too, bug,” Spencer tries.

“But I don't want to share anything. Not the couch, or the kitchen, or bedtime, or cuddle time. And I don't want to share you.”

She crosses her arms over Spencer's, like she's holding on.

“You don't want to share us?” He asks.

She shakes her head, and her eyes are teary all over again. “I like how things are now.”

It makes sense. Your daughter, arguably spoiled beyond measure, who is smarter than she has words for, would be upset by this.

“Char,” you sigh, reaching over to smooth her bed head out. “You will need to share us. Sometimes. But not all the time.”

She huffs, clearly not in agreement yet.

“And you know, we’re really gonna need your help, Char.”

She looks up at you, and for a moment you sense curiosity.

“Yeah,” Spencer nods. “Being a big sister is really important. And you are going to be extra good at it.”

“Why?” She asks.

“Why?” You echo. “Because you're so smart. And you're a good friend. And the baby is going to need a friend. That's the big sister's job, you know. To be a baby’s first friend.”

She grumbles, wiggling her feet in indifference.

“And things will change,” Spencer adds. “In the mornings, the baby will be awake. But when the baby is sleeping, it will just be the three of us.”

“So we can cuddle at night?” She asks, tilting her head back to see him. “With no baby?”

Spencer nods. “Yeah, I think so.”

She settles back in, deep in thought for a while. You're almost certain you're past the worst of it, when she opens her mouth like she's just realized something great.

“Does that mean I get a later bedtime?”

Spencer chuckles. “I thought you didn't want things to change. But… we can talk about it.”

[sincerelybubbles]

When Spencer gets home, you’re asleep, arms and legs splayed across the bed. He knows you do it on purpose so he has to move you out of the way, waking you up in the process. The sight of your hand gripping the fabric of his side of the sheets makes him smile and laugh softly to himself as he passes by to the bathroom.

It doesn’t take him long to freshen up, washing his face and changing into soft pants before rejoining you in the room. He watches you for a moment, cataloguing how you breathe in deep sleep as if he’s ever going to forget. He’s never been afraid of not remembering something before, always so reliant on his memory, but your presence in his life has him grasping onto every moment, so scared of the thought that he might loose this.

He scoops his hand across your arm, cupping your shoulder to wake you gently. You’re smiling before your eyes open. When they do, blinking softly and heavily, you meet his face with a certain familiarity that makes him sigh.

“Hi angel,” he whispers, leaning over to readjust you with ease. You’re pliant in your sleepy state, humming a greeting. He’s got you piled into his arms in a matter of seconds, slipping under the warm covers and brushing his lips over your forehead. “Go back to bed, I’m home.”

The reassurance is all you need to slip your eyes closed again, fingers grasping at his waistband and keeping him pressed to you. He’s not going anywhere, not anytime soon, but the adamant way you clutch to him makes him feel so fond that he can hardly contain himself.

As you drift off, you say his name, so soft and sweet. He cups your cheek at the sound, holding you for a moment before pressing his lips to your forehead and shutting his eyes.

[nerdiculous]

this is so sweet I love this

[nerdiculous]

How Do I Love Thee? Let Me Count The Ways.

Part two

Pairing: BAU!Professor!Spencer Reid x F!Uni!Reader

Warnings: The only one I can think of is age gap? To be honest I haven’t decided which season of Spencer this is so his age is somewhere between mid twenties-late twenties. As for you, you’re a masters student so you’re probably early to mid twenties.

Summary : Spencer Reid had all but given up on romantic relationships. They required time and effort, both of which he could no longer afford to spare. However, as he reached for Sonnets from the Portuguese, for some light reading in the Library, a complex neurobiological phenomenon occurred. His brain chemicals were flooded with dopamine and serotonin and Spencer Reid did the one thing he swore impossible; he fell in love at first sight.

A/N : It’s here at last! I hope you guys enjoy this as much as I loved writing it

You weren’t lost, but you were wandering — the way a mind does when it’s full but not fulfilled. Your fingers trailed along the spines of ancient texts, like they were braille for the bored intellect. Each title whispered history, but none quite called your name.

They weren’t the one you were searching for.

If you had known your classic literature class would have required more reading than your criminology course altogether, you may have decided simply not to do it. That wasn’t to say you didn’t enjoy reading, it was one of, if not, your favourite pastimes.

The library was quieter than usual, except for the faint hum of the aged lights and the gentle shuffle of pages turning. It was after hours and most students retreated to the sanctity of their dormitories for the night, before going out to hit the town. It was that rare reprieve where everything went perfectly still and perfectly quiet, as if time had frozen.

Cosy amber lights glowed, embracing the dark corners of the library in a golden warmth. Your shoulder ached from the weight of your book bag. And yet, it was the weight of loneliness, that hung heavy in your heart and consumed your thoughts.

You were mastering criminology at Georgetown University, Washington D.C., and taking some English Literature classes on the side for extra credit. It was fun, albeit time consuming.

Unfortunately, this meant meeting new people was a rarity. Never mind finding someone to pursue romance with. And so, with a heavy sigh, you shuffled towards the poetry section.

Your fingers grazed the backs of books as you hunted for one novel in particular; Sonnets from the Portuguese. It was a part of your required reading and contained one of your favourite poems; How do I Love Thee? By Elizabeth Barrett Browning.

At last you found it. And yet, the moment you came into contact with its spine… your fingers sparked. An electrical current passed to you from the unfamiliar hands of another.

You lifted your gaze only to be met by the most beautiful, uncertain puppy-dog eyes.

Before you stood a breathtakingly beautiful man. His hair was a quiet rebellion, curling in all sorts of different directions, as though he’d just been running his hands through it absentmindedly. His eyes shifted, studying you, studying your silence. His face carried that kind of fragile elegance that belonged to paintings, not to people — high cheekbones, sharp jaw, and the faintest hint of something unfinished in his smile, like he was still trying to decide whether to stay in the moment or retreat into his mind. But when he smiled… it was like watching the sunrise break through a misty morning. Rare, but worth every second of an all-nighter.

He moved with a quiet awkwardness that made your heart want to reach out and steady him. He had long limbs and uncertain hands, like he’d never quite grown into his own body. There was something quiet about him, something that didn’t beg to be noticed but deserved to be. Like the first line of a poem — subtle, but unforgettable. He retracted his hand, pausing only to adjust his glasses.

“Sorry.” He spoke first, slicing through the unspoken tension in the air. “Did - ahem,” he cleared his throat, “did you uh want this?” He reached up, one slender finger dragging the novel half out from its spot on the shelf. You swallowed, throat dry and constricted. Any and all words died on your tongue.

For some inexplicable reason his beauty had rendered you speechless. You were almost certain that somewhere in the back of your mind, there was some logical explanation for the way your heart pitter-pattered at the sound of his soft spoken voice. And yet, you could not bring yourself to break your silence. Afraid that if you spoke, he would skitter away like a frightened animal. And you would be left, with nothing but the faint memories of a dream that could’ve been.

The book slipped, it teetered on the edge of the shelf. But before it could fall, a hand darted out, catching it in midair with the reflexes of someone accustomed to emergencies.

“You have quick hands,” you finally spoke up, though you willed your voice to be even, you were certain he detected the waverings of doubt.

“Statistically, most accidents in libraries involve falling objects,” The man replied earnestly. “Books can weigh anywhere from 0.45kg to 4.54kg, depending of course on the size and whether or not it has a hard cover or a paper back. So the blunt force of a book hitting your head could be quite dire. I mean you could receive a concussion if one fell on your head. 214,110 hospitalisations related to traumatic brain injuries occur annually, this includes concussions. And though it's most unlikely that those are all a result of a falling book, it doesn’t mean that it can’t happen.” He stopped himself, cheeks flushing. “Sorry. I do that sometimes.”

You can’t help the small smile that curls on your lips. “Do what?”

“I’ve been told it's rambling.” He states matter of factly, before holding out the book for you to take.

“Oh no, it’s okay. I’m sure they have a second copy I can borrow.”

“They don’t.” The man assured. “I was only going to use it for some light reading anyhow, I think it would benefit you more. As I’m sure you could use it for your course.”

“My… how did you know I’m a student?” Momentarily you bristled in defense, certain you hadn’t informed this stranger what you needed the book for. Despite your cautiousness, you were still reeling from his presence that you couldn’t properly string together sentences in your brain.

“Oh. Perhaps I shouldn’t have assumed. I just mostly see students here at this time cramming for exams or trying to complete last minute essays,” he cleared his throat, “not to mention your bag is spilling open with books. Which from the titles I can deduce are part of the curriculum for the classic literature course at Georgetown.”

You really did try not to gape at him. You felt so… seen. He got all that from simply looking at your books. “Um.. yeah.” You swallowed, that same dry feeling constricting your throat. “I’m actually doing my masters in criminology… the literature is just for fun.”

His face eagerly lit up at your explanation. “I guest lecture some criminology classes and abnormal psychology classes.” He explained. “But not for the master students.”

He spoke quickly, too quickly for your frazzled brain to interjected. “I hope you enjoy your book.” He nods to the novel, as he pressed it into your palms. “I particularly like Barrett Browning’s How Do I Love Thee.”

With nothing further to say, the stranger waltzed away. Forever changing your fate.

[nerdiculous]

I’m sick and moody and writing angst for Spencer. Someone put me in time out why did I make him sad :(

[nerdiculous]

i’m nej i’ve made myself sad, quick someone give me happy prompts

[nerdiculous]

I’m sick and moody and writing angst for Spencer. Someone put me in time out why did I make him sad :(

[nerdiculous]

I cannot thank everyone enough for the love on my latest fic. And so drumroll please 🥁… the first part of my “How do I love thee?” series will be out on friday! so keep an eye out <3

[nerdiculous]

idea: spencer who doesn't rlly understand how to go about offering his partner physical affection but he decides to man up and just do it one day and is so surprised when it works

Offerings of Affection

Pairing : Spencer Reid x Reader

A/N : I love how complex Spencer is, like bursting with love so quickly but too insecure to put it into action

Your relationship with Spencer Reid was a new one. But it had blossomed quickly, going from strangers to lovers in the blink of an eye. Moments together were rare, as work often called Spencer away, but that only made each one something precious, something to cherish.

Spencer had no issues regarding your relationship, how could he possibly when he loved you so enormously? Spencer was confident in his affections, and trusted you wholeheartedly.

And yet, there was one thing that had bothered him since day one. One concern that triumphed all he treasured about you. And that concern was only something he could control. Only something he could fix.

Spencer Reid had spent a life time shying away from physical touch. He was consciously aware of the fact that one’s hands could carry between 10,000 to 10 million pieces of bacteria at any given time. It was fairly disheartening to him, as a young boy, as he had read that bacteria could cause serious illnesses and infections.

These daunting thoughts had carried on from childhood and extended into adulthood, it was one of the grave downsides to an eidetic memory.

His fear was only kindled by his profession, and it reflected itself in his conscious efforts to avoid all kinds of physical touch. Denying even the most simplest of handshakes.

Unfortunately, this meant that when it came to his personal life, and his relationships, his knowledge on physical touch was slim. He didn’t know the ways to touch someone to elicit a complimentary response, nor how to hold them in a comforting way when grief brought them down.

He puzzled over this thought endlessly. It had consumed his mind, and distracted him from casework files. After all, a huge part of intimacy stemmed from physical affection.

Spencer could read as many books as he liked on the subject of touch, but having no tangible experience meant that he couldn’t prove any of his theories. And he so longed to put it into practice. He wanted to show his beloved how he felt, not just through confessions of love, but through offerings of affection.

The thought of physical touch was constantly at the forefront of Spencer’s mind. His eyes traced over your dancing, busy-body form as you pranced about the kitchen making dinner.

It was spaghetti bolognese. Or at least a poor attempt at making it. He smiled to himself, preventing the chuckle at the thought of your many culinary disasters. In your defence you were a chef in learning, or at least that was your previous claim.

Most nights were spent with Spencer’s cooking or a night out on the town, where he treated you to a wonderful restaurant, bustling with life. Spencer liked to spoil you, it made him feel less inept in the relationship.

He steeled his nerves. He knew you were patient, but he knew that patience had limits. He could hardly stand by forever and not act. Not when he longed to touch you, to feel your warmth and share his own with you.

As your hips swayed to the beat of the music, you’d put on as background noise, he found himself surging forwards, compelled by an all consuming need.

He gently, tentatively, placed his hands on your hips. You froze. Stuck between wanting to scream in joy and afraid to break a rare moment of affection. “It smells good.” He whispered softly, his lips brushing your ear. Spencer rested his chin on your shoulder, leaning against you. His fingers nervously drummed against your waist.

“It is good.” You proudly declared, despite not having tasted your own efforts. Lifting the spoon up you guided it to his lips. “Open.” You demanded.

Spencer caught the twinkle in your eye and obediently acquiesced to your demands. He could never refuse you. He had never wanted to.

Flavours burst on his tongue. It was good. It was really good. The savoury tomato contrasted brilliantly to whatever spices and herbs you had added. He wondered too if you’d added a splash of red wine to it, the sauce carried a certain bold richness which reminded him of a Malbec you adored.

“It’s really—.” He began to speak, willingly offering you a compliment for your hard work, when suddenly he was the recipient of a much better compliment.

The rich sauce had been replaced by soft, welcoming lips. To which Spencer breathed a needy sigh into. Your hands tangled in his hair, spoon discarded on the counter with a quiet plunk.

His lips moved against yours, pleasantly surprised by the sudden show of affection. The moment was over all too soon as you slowly withdrew, placing a final peck on his lips. He observed the rosiness in your cheeks. He didn’t have to ask what that was for. He knew. He could read it on you face. You were rewarding him for his unprompted touch.

Spencer, only encouraged by this, buried his face into the crook of your neck. Committing your scent to mind. He breathed you in, lips curling upwards in victory against your warm skin. He placed a kiss on your neck, rewarded by a silent shiver. If he had known you’d be so receptive to touch he never would have shied away. Never would have let his concerns and grievances consume him.

He stored this newfound knowledge away in a little box at the farthest corner of his mind. Something only he knew, something only he could explore. Spencer embraced you. Never again would he not put his yearning for you into action.

[nerdiculous]

For All of The Universe

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Uni!Reader

A/N: Sometimes we all need a reminder to take that break, Spencer’s very good at that. <3

The haze of sleep beckoned your name. In a feeble attempt to dissuade its claim on you, you pressed your fingers into your closed eyes and rubbed until fireworks of colour burst behind your lids. Once you opened them, sapphire stars glittered across your peripherals.

Black ink swirled across the screen of your laptop. This was pointless. You weren’t going to achieve anything when the only thing preventing you from passing out was the several cups of coffee you had guzzled in the last few hours.

The sound of keys jingling in the lock had you sitting up straight, fixing your hair and praying the evidence of exhaustion was not so clearly reflected on your face.

“You know.” Came the familiar soothing dulcet of his voice. “If you’re going to come over the least you could do is set your shoes out straight.” He was smiling when he entered the room. But the moment he caught sight of you his smile froze. He dropped his messenger bag. “Hey, hey. What’s happened to you? Tell me, angel.” He pushed back the laptop and cups your face so tenderly it almost made you cry.

“If anyone has hurt you I promise—“

“No, no. Spencer it’s nothing like that.” His thumbs wipe at tears you hadn’t realised had fallen. “I-I just feel a little overwhelmed by my thesis.” You answered him in a small voice.

Spencer understood. He glanced at the laptop. Dexterous fingers made quick work of saving the file before closing the top.

“It’s okay. It’s okay to be overwhelmed. But you also need to recognise when enough is enough.”

“I haven’t reached my goal— I haven’t got where I needed to be—.” You blubbered before you could swallow up the feelings of ineptitude.

Spencer crouched to your height, pulling you against his chest. Steady, sturdy, safe. He ran his fingers through your hair, a gentle gesture to calm your racing thoughts.

Before he had come in to save you, it had felt like wading through shallow waters that just got deeper the more you tried to escape.

“The universe is approximately 93 billion light-years in diameter. However, because of the expansion of space it may even be infinite.” You didn’t know where his rambling was going, but didn’t dare to interrupt. His voice was a moment of calm in your raging mind.

“Originally, it was thought that our universe consisted of only the Milky Way galaxy. The estimate for this was 100,000 light-years across.” His fingers drum a silent pattern across your spine. “What I mean to say is everyone gets things wrong originally, they get stuck and can only see what they believe is laid out in front of them. In order to correct that mistake one must step back, get rest and then revisit with fresh eyes.”

His hands danced up to hold your face. He levelled you with his best adoring, puppy-dog eyes. “Okay?”

How ridiculously unfair, how could one man. One single person pull you back from the precipice. How could anybody calm you down with their touch and voice alone. But Spencer Reid wasn’t any man, you supposed. He was heavenly.

“Unfair Spencer Reid. You,” You paused, momentarily choking on your words, “You can’t just talk me out of a panic.” You sniffled, wiping at your nose with the back of your hand. He simply offered a patient smile.

“You don’t have to get it correct on the first go. I know you better than you think, I know that’s what’s causing you stress.” He was right. He was always infuriatingly right. Drafting and redrafting felt like too much, too much consumption of very limited time. You wanted your thesis to flow perfectly on the first go. But it wasn’t. And that was causing your frustration and block.

“You know…” You began. “I wouldn’t trade you for all of the universe.”

“For all of the universe?” He echoed in surprise.

“For all of the universe.” You smiled.

“Hmm.” He hummed in contemplation. “I think I could get behind that. And,” he paused for dramatic effect, “I wouldn’t trade you for all of the universe.

Before you got a chance to debunk his absurdity he tenderly kissed you, reminding you to take a break.

[nerdiculous]

For All of The Universe

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Uni!Reader

A/N: Sometimes we all need a reminder to take that break, Spencer’s very good at that. <3

The haze of sleep beckoned your name. In a feeble attempt to dissuade its claim on you, you pressed your fingers into your closed eyes and rubbed until fireworks of colour burst behind your lids. Once you opened them, sapphire stars glittered across your peripherals.

Black ink swirled across the screen of your laptop. This was pointless. You weren’t going to achieve anything when the only thing preventing you from passing out was the several cups of coffee you had guzzled in the last few hours.

The sound of keys jingling in the lock had you sitting up straight, fixing your hair and praying the evidence of exhaustion was not so clearly reflected on your face.

“You know.” Came the familiar soothing dulcet of his voice. “If you’re going to come over the least you could do is set your shoes out straight.” He was smiling when he entered the room. But the moment he caught sight of you his smile froze. He dropped his messenger bag. “Hey, hey. What’s happened to you? Tell me, angel.” He pushed back the laptop and cups your face so tenderly it almost made you cry.

“If anyone has hurt you I promise—“

“No, no. Spencer it’s nothing like that.” His thumbs wipe at tears you hadn’t realised had fallen. “I-I just feel a little overwhelmed by my thesis.” You answered him in a small voice.

Spencer understood. He glanced at the laptop. Dexterous fingers made quick work of saving the file before closing the top.

“It’s okay. It’s okay to be overwhelmed. But you also need to recognise when enough is enough.”

“I haven’t reached my goal— I haven’t got where I needed to be—.” You blubbered before you could swallow up the feelings of ineptitude.

Spencer crouched to your height, pulling you against his chest. Steady, sturdy, safe. He ran his fingers through your hair, a gentle gesture to calm your racing thoughts.

Before he had come in to save you, it had felt like wading through shallow waters that just got deeper the more you tried to escape.

“The universe is approximately 93 billion light-years in diameter. However, because of the expansion of space it may even be infinite.” You didn’t know where his rambling was going, but didn’t dare to interrupt. His voice was a moment of calm in your raging mind.

“Originally, it was thought that our universe consisted of only the Milky Way galaxy. The estimate for this was 100,000 light-years across.” His fingers drum a silent pattern across your spine. “What I mean to say is everyone gets things wrong originally, they get stuck and can only see what they believe is laid out in front of them. In order to correct that mistake one must step back, get rest and then revisit with fresh eyes.”

His hands danced up to hold your face. He levelled you with his best adoring, puppy-dog eyes. “Okay?”

How ridiculously unfair, how could one man. One single person pull you back from the precipice. How could anybody calm you down with their touch and voice alone. But Spencer Reid wasn’t any man, you supposed. He was heavenly.

“Unfair Spencer Reid. You,” You paused, momentarily choking on your words, “You can’t just talk me out of a panic.” You sniffled, wiping at your nose with the back of your hand. He simply offered a patient smile.

“You don’t have to get it correct on the first go. I know you better than you think, I know that’s what’s causing you stress.” He was right. He was always infuriatingly right. Drafting and redrafting felt like too much, too much consumption of very limited time. You wanted your thesis to flow perfectly on the first go. But it wasn’t. And that was causing your frustration and block.

“You know…” You began. “I wouldn’t trade you for all of the universe.”

“For all of the universe?” He echoed in surprise.

“For all of the universe.” You smiled.

“Hmm.” He hummed in contemplation. “I think I could get behind that. And,” he paused for dramatic effect, “I wouldn’t trade you for all of the universe.

Before you got a chance to debunk his absurdity he tenderly kissed you, reminding you to take a break.

[nerdiculous]

Guys I have the first part of the “How do I love thee?” series written and the rest planned. BUT i’m not super confident in my characterisation of Spencer just yet (he’s got a lot of layers to his character thus making him complex to write). So… I was hoping you guys could send me requests, any kind of prompt you like. That way I can explore him through your asks and then I’ll publish part one. Thanks!