highkey just writing these stories for myself but feel free to read! - criminal minds fics, specifically spencer reid - im new so please don't expect a masterpiece
In Sickness and in Health, I Still Hate You (part 1)
pairing: spencer x bau!reader
summary: after the two of you get sick on a case, prentiss forces you both into isolation at your apartment so you don't get anyone else sick
warnings/tags: sickness, puking, gagging (guys i promise its not thay explicit i just want to make sure you know what you're going to be reading), enemies to lovers, kind of one bed trope
a/n: hi guys, sorry i've been gone so long, i've been really busy with studying and i can never stay awake long enough to write anything so i've been inactive. i really appreciate all the love that's been shown on 'doting husbands and precious wives', thank you! i do have some other stuff coming, but in the meantime, enjoy! (p.s. i was going to post all the parts at the same time but it's taking me way too long to finish part two so i thought i'd just post part one now)
masterlist here, requests here
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"Emily, I'm begging you, I'm literally on my knees," you are, in fact, not on your knees, "please don't do this. I won't survive."
Spencer scoffs, about to retort when Prentiss cuts him off. "No, this is what's going to happen. Since Spencer is still a germaphobe, despite his claims that prison changed him, you're both going to stay at your apartment so we don't hear about all the alleged bacteria in his apartment for the next two months. I'll go to Spencer's and pick up roughly a week's worth of clo-"
"A WEEK?!" Spencer and you shout in unison.
Prentiss looks at you both with an expression that says 'are you done?' before continuing her sentence. "Yes, a week's worth of clothes, but that's the minimum since the two of you are pretty sick and might keep reinfecting eachother. That, and I want you to be completely healthy before you come back to work, there's no way I'm catching what you two have. I'll also get anything else you need, Spence." She says, actively creating distance as she speaks.
Spencer pinches the bridge of his nose, regretting every decision he made, including joining the FBI, that led to this moment. Yeah, he hates you that much, and it's reciprocated.
Ever since you joined the team three years ago, Spencer has hated your guts. You didn't hate him to begin with. He only hated you because you were brought in to get him out of prison, then stayed, and you remind him of the worst time of his life, even though you saved him from that situation. It's irrational. He knows it, but he blames you because he doesn't want to blame himself for being so stupid, going off to Mexico without telling anyone. At least, if he told someone, things could've turned out differently. But they turned out this way, and the only way he doesn't spiral into self hatred is by hating you instead.
You, on the other hand, hate him because of the way he treats you. He acts like you don't exist most of the time, and when he can't do that, he simply disregards everything you say and does the complete opposite, even if you're right. Of course, sometimes what you say is the key to solving a case, and he can't do the opposite of that, so he just doesn't give you the credit at the end of it. It makes your blood boil, watching him treat everyone else like his family, and then you like the stray dog that keeps coming to his house for scraps he gave you one time.
And now, the two of you have to spend a week together in your tiny apartment, both sick, so you're going to be seeing eachother at your worst, and Prentiss expect you to come out of it as best friends. If anything, your relationship as mortal enemies will be set in stone.
Prentiss walks into the living room with a duffel bag, and looks around for Spencer. "Where is he?"
You nod your head to the bathroom, where Spencer can be heard gagging. "The worst of it has already kicked in. We're taking turns, actually. He usually feels nauseous about five minutes after I do, and vice versa. And he needs to hurry up, because I'm feeling nauseous again!" You yell the last part so Spencer can hear you, and if you didn't know any better, you would swear you heard him tell you to piss off.
"Right, well.. tell him I brought everything he asked for, and I was shocked by the amount of sweatpants he owns. I thought he just wore suits to bed, honestly." Prentiss grins, amused by her own joke, then sets the bag down. "I'll let you two have some alone time now," she says with a wink, and you're not sure if it's because he's still being sick, or because he heard what Prentiss said, but Spencer gags again.
She turns and heads for the door, then pauses, turning back around. "Also, why did neither of you mention that you live in the same apartment building?"
You shrug. "We thought you already knew, plus, we never actually see eachother in the building, so there wasn't any point."
She nods, looking at you skeptically, before heading out, closing the door softly behind her. You hear the tap running and water splashing, before Spencer emerges from the bathroom.
"You look... rough."
"Shut up."
"You know, I don't know when you're planning on learning that no matter how many times a day you tell me to shut up that I'll never do it, but I hope it's soon, because you should really be saving your voice for more important things, like screaming as loud as you can for help when I finally snap and try to murder you."
The two of you stare eachother down, then he just huffs, collapsing down onto the couch. He grabs the duffel bag, pulling out some sweats and a hoodie so he can change out of his not so mysteriously stained shirt and slacks. He gets up and heads into the bedroom, closing the door behind him. It's at this moment that a strong wave of nausea hits you, which is not good at all because to get to the bathroom, you have to go through the bedroom. You shoot up, running over to the door and pounding your fist against it.
"Spencer, open the door, I need to use the bathroom!"
"I'm changing, can't you wait??"
"Spencer, I can't-" heave "-wait. Open the door, please." You clamp a hand over your mouth, silently swearing that if Spencer makes you puke out here, you're going to kill him. Luckily for you, he opens the door, and you bolt past him, not even registering his state of undress.
You emerge a few minutes later, feeling much better. You pass through the bedroom and go into the living room, where Spencer is sitting, fully dressed, on the couch. You plop down beside him, looking ahead at the wall. This is going to be a long week.
By the end of the night, it's evident that you have it worse. For now, anyway. You're more nauseous, you have a complete loss of appetite, and all you can do is sleep. The empathetic side of Spencer can't help but feel bad for you. Any other day, you'd still be the woman who reminds him every day of the things he went through three years ago, but right now, you're just a sick, exhausted woman, feeling vulnerable in front of the person she hates most.
You make what's probably your tenth trip to the bathroom in the past two hours, and, surprising himself, Spencer follows you in. He sits against the wall, watching you lean on the toilet, waiting.
"Why are you here?" You grumble, your voice strained and hoarse from the constant, small but powerful amounts of acid in your throat.
"I've decided to let go of my usual dislike for you, since we're going to be stuck together for a while."
"Dislike is not a strong enough word for what you feel towards me."
He sighs, knowing your not wrong, but he decides not to get into that. "Right now, I feel bad for you, so I'm going to help you feel better. Don't make me regret it." He says, glancing over at you. You look so small, so fragile.
You don't respond, because you're already dry-heaving, wondering what you even did to deserve being this sick. Spencer moves behind you, pulling the loose strands of hair on your head out of the way with one hand, using his other hand to rub up and down your back, trying to provide you some comfort. His touch catches you off guard, but you relax into it, grateful.
When you're done, you lean back into him, resting against his chest. He's definitely not the awkward, scrawny genius you heard he once was. You sigh, closing your eyes. He wraps his arms around you, listening to your breath as it slowly evens out.
After a few minutes, he speaks. "Ready to get up? Or are you going to keep using me as a human pillow?" Although his brain is fighting his facial muscles, he can't help but smile.
"Yeah, I'm ready. Help me up."
Spencer, shifts so he's on his knees, then puts his hands under your arms, pulling you up with him as he stands. He does it with such ease that is surprises you.
"Do you go to the gym or something? Didn't expect that from you." You say, taking a few slow steps to the sink to gargle some water and wash your hands.
Spencer stands next to you, looking at you in the mirror.
"I don't go to the gym. I'm a man, y/n, I come with built in muscles. Plus, you're not as heavy as you seem to think you are."
You roll your eyes, drying your face and hands with a towel. "I don't think I'm that heavy, I've just never seen you lift anything heavy. I guess it just surprised me that you actually have functioning muscles." You smirk, taking note of the offense on Spencer's face.
You walk out of the bathroom, through the bedroom, and into the kitchen, sitting down of the floor. Spencer raises an eyebrow at you.
"I'm hot. The floor is cold. It's refreshing." That seems to keep Spencer's questions at bay, for now. He sits down next to you, staring up at the ceiling.
"...Why do you hate me so much?"
The question catches him off guard. He wasn't expecting you to say anything, let alone that. He slowly looks over at you, and you're already looking at him, not allowing him to dodge the question.
"Same reason you hate me."
"Nope. I hate you because you treat me like shit. I don't treat you like shit, so you can't hate me for that. Why do you hate me?"
He groans, shrugging. "I don't know, okay? I just do. I don't want to talk about this of all things when my throat is as dry as the sahara and my head feels like it's going to fall off my neck.
"When do you expect us to talk about this, then?"
"Not ever, honestly. I quite like this routine we have going on."
"Spencer..." You warn.
"Seriously. Can we talk about this when we're both feeling better and in the right headspace to process words that may or may not sting?"
Despite your reluctance to let this go, he's right. Your head is pounding, so is his, and trying to process a bunch of complicated words right now will be trying to connect your headphones to your phone when the bluetooth is turned off. Never gonna happen.
"I'm tired, let's go to bed." He says.
"Why do we both have to go to bed? What if I'm not tired?"
"Oh, really, you're not tired?" He gives you a look.
"I'm not... but I'm going to go to bed anyway so I can get a good night's rest." You nod, standing up and following him to the bathroom. The two of you get ready for bed before going back into the bedroom.
"So how are we going to do this?" You ask, looking at the bed. Your bed is big enough for two people, yes, but you don't feel like sharing a bed with someone who hates your guts.
"I'll sleep on the couch." He mumbles, already heading for the door.
"Wait. You can't sleep on the couch, not in your current state... we'll share the bed." You huff, knowing you're probably going to regret that later. Spencer shakes his head, looking just as disgusted by the thought as you do, but you're not taking no for an answer.
The two of you get into the bed, trying to create as much distance as possible.
"This really isn't ideal."
"I know, but usually the guest would sleep on the couch. Special guests would get my bed and I'd sleep on the couch."
"But I offered-"
"Now, now, Spencer. It's okay to be wrong sometimes, no one's gonna hold it over your head."
In the darkness, you hear Spencer let out a long exhale, finally settling down. You find a good position and close your eyes, listening to the sound of cars passing by and wind blowing.
so, with the spencer reid college series i really don't like where the story went (i should've thought it out more before writing it tbh) so im going to make it part of an alternate storyline. they'll both have the same ending, just different ways of getting there.
summary: even though he means well, spencer accidentally smothers you so much that you go into early labor.
warings/tags: lots of love in the form of smothering, stress, labor but not too intense, hospital, pregnancy, few kisses and one sexual reference at the end
masterlist here, requests here
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"Do you want more tea?"
"I'm okay."
"Are you sure? The antioxidants in chamomile have been proven to-"
"Spencer, baby, I'm good for now. Thank you." You give him a smile, reassuring him that you'll be fine if you don't fall asleep within the next ten minutes.
Ever since you entered the third trimester of your pregnancy, Spencer has been a lot more... present, to say the least. He always requests time off to be with you, and leaves for work as late as he possibly can to make sure you're comfortable for the day. It's nice, you will admit, but you're hitting the 37 week mark, and you're not sure you can take it much longer.
"Just let me give you a back massage, then I'll back off."
"Spence, how could my back possibly ache if I've been laying down all day? I'm fine, I swear. I really appreciate all this attention, but I can handle myself." Then, you add, "besides, this isn't my first rodeo, is it?"
Spencer sighs, nodding. You've been pregnant before, with a little girl. Molly; she's three now.
"No, it's not your first rodeo, but Molly was different. She was a normal birth weight, whereas this baby is.. a big baby."
You laugh, hitting his shoulder. "Did you just call our baby chunky?"
"No! I just said they're getting past the average range, that's all." He clarifies, although you can see him studying the size of your stomach, and wondering how you'll be able to push the baby out if it gets any bigger.
"Well, unfortunately, this baby loves cake pops, and I can't say no to that, can I?"
You grin, and Spencer reciprocates, pushing your top up and leaning down, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your bump. The baby responds by kicking you softly, causing you to gasp. Spencer immediately sits up, and you shake your head.
"No, I'm fine, just a ki- oh!" You frown, putting a hand on your stomach. That didn't feel like a kick, and if your prior experience is anything to go on, you'd say that was a contraction, but of course, you know better than that.
Spencer senses something is wrong, and by the look on his face, you can tell he's trying to read your mind. You wince a little as the feeling comes again.
"I think it's just Braxton-Hicks, but considering how far along I am, I'm thinking we should probably go to the hospital just to be safe, right?"
"That sounds like a good idea."
Lucky for you, Spencer already packed your hospital bag weeks ago, because with a big brain like his comes a gameplan for every scenario. He helps you up before darting upstairs to grab it, coming back not more than thirty seconds later with the bag. He grabs the other essentials like your phone and water bottle, then pauses.
"Molly. We can't bring her with us to the hospital, in case you're actually in labor."
"It's fine, we'll drop her off at my mom's, since her house is on the way." Spencer nods, then smiles, walking over and kissing your cheek.
"See, this is why I love you. You know how to think quickly in situations like this."
You chuckle, about to go upstairs to get Molly, but Spencer is having none of it. "I'll get her, you stay right here."
You huff, reluctantly staying downstairs while Spencer goes upstairs and wakes Molly up, packing a small bag for her with some stuff. Your mum has things that Molly will need, so he doesn't pack much for her.
"No, I don't want more ice chips. What I want is for this baby to come out."
Spencer sighs, offering you a soft smile as he moves to sit behind you on the hospital bed, so you're sitting between his legs and can lay back against his chest. "I know, honey, but it's just a little longer, okay? You're already at 8cm, push through. You're so strong, I know you can do it."
He brushes your hair back, kissing the nape of your neck as he whispers words of encouragement into your ear. You whine as another contraction hits you. You swear it wasn't this bad with Molly, but that's the price you pay for eating your weight in cake pops your whole pregnancy.
A little while later, the obstetrician comes in to check your dilation, and she confirms that you're at 10cm and can start pushing soon. Your shoulders relax just a little bit, but the worst is still yet to come.
The birth is chaotic, with you screaming while everyone in the room tries to assure you that you're doing okay. It's painful and stressful, but it's all worth it when you hear the cries of your baby boy. The OB bundles him up in a blanket and places him on your chest, and you can't help but just marvel at how cute he is, his little hands clenched against his body. Spencer is just as amazed, reaching out a hand to hold his tiny fist.
"He's... beautiful. We did that." Spencer states, and you can heat the quiver in his voice as he tries, and fails, to hold back his tears of joy.
"Well, I did most of it, but yeah, we did that." You giggle, glancing up at Spencer, who's wiping his eyes. "What should we name him?"
"Well, you always said you wanted to name our son Nathaniel, after your grandfather. I think it suits him, and he has a couple nicknames to go with it." Spencer says, admiring his son.
"Yeah, I could call him Nathan or Nate, but I'd rather call him my little cake pop."
"Seriously?"
"Yeah, seriously." You say, your tone leaving no room for argument. Spencer chuckles, gently wrapping his arms around you as not to cause you any more pain.
Two days later, you're checking out of the hospital. Spencer is filling out some forms for you while you sit in a wheelchair with the baby beside you, watching him sleep. All he does is sleep, as if he pushed himself out. The doctor catches you in the lobby.
"Congratulations on your baby boy, Mrs. Reid."
"Well, I have you to thank for keeping everything running smoothly." You smile.
"You're the one who pushed out the baby, y/n. I can't take credit for that. What I can do is make sure you're resting for a while. This isn't your first baby, so I'm sure you already know what I'm going to say. No strenuous activity, especially sex, for at least three weeks, got it?"
You laugh, your eyes drifting over to Spencer. You can see his face drop in disappointment. "Got it. I'm sure we'll be too busy with this little guy to do anything else."
The doctor nods, smiling softly down at the baby before walking away to tend to other patients. Spencer saunters over, a look on his face. He grins. "We're not listening to what the doctor said, right?"
You roll your eyes, knowing he's joking, but also knowing he's only 75% joking. "Yes, we are. If you can't deal with that, get a vasectomy."
Spencer audibly gasps in horror, pretending to be terrified by the thought, before breaking out into a grin again. He leans down and grabs the handle of the baby's car seat, then grabs the handle of your wheelchair, steering you out of the hospital and toward the parking lot.
"Seriously though, would you ever get a vasectomy?"
"Maybe. Not any time soon. Looks like you might just have to keep carrying my babies."
"It wouldn't hurt you to wear a condom every now and then, you know."
due to a lack of creative flow related to the series im writing, im going to be writing other fics to fill the space between chapters because i don't know where that's going but i dont want to scrap it completely.
(p.s, i need to name the series, so any suggestions would be great đ)
this chapter is part of the alternate storyline to the series.
pairings: spencer x fem!reader x mickey (love triangle)
summary: mickey helps you figure out that you're crushing on spencer, all while he has a crush on you. when do these things ever end well?
warning/tags: brief smut, p in v but not explicit, kissing, love triangle, unrequited love, angst
a/n: sorry for taking so long to do chapter 4, school is crushing me. first time writing smut. also, peep the reference near the end đđŻ
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Spencer. Spencer... spencer, seriously? Of all, literally all the people you could be falling for, it had to be your roommate. Your roommate who you've known for two months, who you got along so well with before this. One thing about you is you can't talk to someone you have a crush on. You can't maintain eye contact, your brain short circuit and you can't think of anything to say, even if the topic is about something you're extremely educated in. It's terrible. And now, it's going to be so awkward any time you see Spencer because you literally cannot function properly when you have the slightest interest in someone. You're done for. At least, that's what Mickey thinks.
You're hanging out in his room, and you had originally gone in there to talk about the upcoming swim competition that you're both competing in, but the conversation shifted to your developing crush on Spencer when you mentioned that you like the colour of his eyes. Golden brown. Unbeknownst to you, saying that you like the colour of someone's eyes is a dead giveaway that you like them.
"Wait, so what exactly do you like about him?" Mickey asks, sounding disappointed, but only for a second. You don't even know if you heard that right, because it's gone as soon as you hear it.
"I mean.. I don't know. He's funny, he helps me with my homework, he even cooks for me." You smile, thinking of yesterday when Spencer made carbonara.
"You're down bad. He literally cooks for everyone, y/n, because he's the only one in this house who knows how to cook."
"I can cook too! I just don't because he already does all the cooking."
Mickey sighs, his expression softening. "Do you actually like him? Would you want to have a relationship with him?"
You think about it for a moment, and Mickey shakes his head.
"The fact that you have to think about it is alarming, to say the least."
"I like him, I do like him. I've just never been in a relationship before, I don't know if this is what I want right now."
"You don't know if you want this, or you don't know if you want this with him?"
The question lingers in the air, raw and unrestrained. He's right, you don't know what you want.
"For all you know, you could just be liking thr concept of dating Spencer, but you don't actually want him." He suggests, almost like...
"Why are you trying to convince me that I don't like him?" You question, an eyebrow raised at the realisation.
"I'm not, I'm just saying-"
"Nuh-uh. Since we started talking about this, you've been asking me if I actually like him, if I wanna be with him, all that. I just thought you were being thorough, or a good listener, but it's like you don't want me to date him."
Mickey scoffs, getting defensive. "Well, forgive me for not wanting you to rush into something you're not even sure you want."
"I've known you for two months, Michael. You're not my therapist, you're not my best friend, you don't get a say in my love life."
"So why are you here? Why aren't you pestering Tia about this or talking to the Casanova himself?"
"Because- you're the one who got us onto this topic!"
"Only because you made it painfully obvious that you're crushing on him!"
"I did not!" You frown, crossing your arms over your chest indignantly.
"Oh, you did. 'His eyes are so pretty, his hair is so nice, I'm in love with him.' You've known the guy for two months!"
"I did not say all that." You scoff, your irritation evident now. "Genuinely, why do you care so much about if I date him or not??"
"Because I like you, okay?! I like you, not him."
The room goes silent, save for the sounds of Mickey's heavy breathing mixed with your stunned, inpossibly loud silence.
"You..."
"Yeah. Yes, I do. I've liked you since even before we were roommates, from that time I helped you out at the vending machine. When you moved in, I thought I finally had my chance, but instead you go for the hot nerd, which I should've known you would. No girl makes it past Spencer's golden brown eyes. They're like magnets, sucking you in until you drown in heartbreak, because he doesn't commit. And I don't want you to end up like all the girls he dated before you. I want to be with you."
The words spill out of him like water over the edge of a waterfall, a continuous flow until there's nothing else. You look at him, really look at him, this time in a new light. Michael... he's been right in front of you this whole time, but you never fully paid attention. He's present, he's here, and you shouldn't be taking that for granted.
What happens next, well, that's just down to a lack of willpower and pent up desire. Your hand reaches for the collar of his t-shirt before your brain can give the command, and his eyes drop to your lips. You crash into him with astonishing clarity, your lips locking onto his with fervour. His hands cradle your waist, like he's afraid you'll shatter if he squeezes too hard. He slips his tongue between your lips, and you make way, realising you could've have had this for so long if you weren't hung up on what you couldn't have.
An hour later, the room is only illuminated by moonlight pouring through the windows. On the bed, skin glides against skin. The push and pull of muscles becomes rhythmic, and your bodies fit together like bees and honey.
"Mickey..."
"Yes?" You can hear the smirk in his voice, and you know that he knows that he's doing all the right things. He gives a slow thrust, making your head fall back against the pillow as you let out a soft moan. He chuckles, taking a second to admire you. Face flushed, hair splayed out all over the pillow, expression of pure bliss. He can't believe he finally has you.
He rolls his hips, leaning down to whisper sweet nothings into your ear. His breath is warm against your cheek, accentuating the intensity of the moment. "Are you close?"
Unable to form any full words right now, you nod, your back arching up as you reach your climax. He holds your hip with one hand and supports himself with the other, his thrust slowly getting longer and deeper, repeatedly hitting your spot. It's beautiful, really. He continues the long strokes until you finish, and he follows not long after, a quiet groan leaving his lips. He rolls off of you, laying beside you with one arm thrown over your waist.
"You see what you could've had all this time? But no, you wanted Spencer." He pretends to say Spencer's name with disgust, but really he's just happy that he can finally be with you.
You laugh, rolling onto your side and cuddling up against his chest. "Just shut up and go to sleep."
Spencer burts into the room, then wishes he hadn't.
"My bad, man. It's 11am, I thought you'd be awake by now, and I didn't realise you had a girl over."
Mickey doesn't even stir, still in deep slumber. You, however, grumble in frustration, stretching under the covers and blinking quickly at the sudden burst of light.
"It's too bright.." You mumble, peeking your head out from under the covers. You lock eyes with Spencer, and suddenly something shifts.
"Oh, y/n. I didn't realise it was you. You and Mickey?" Spencer raises an eyebrow, slightly shocked.
"Yeah, it kinda just happened. We were talking about... something. Then it led to him confessing he likes me and then this." You smile sheepishly, trying to shake Mickey awake so he can make it less awkward.
"Right." Spencer almost sounds... disappointed. And this time, you know you heard it.
spencer reid fic where he heâs gotten so busy and caught up with work, his genius self accidentally forgets his girlfriends birthday
thank you for this request, i'll see what i can do!
The (not so) Little Things
pairing: spencer x reader
summary: you wake up to not one present, but zero. after searching the whole house and finding there's no one there to jump out and surprise you, you realise he forgot your birthday. how will the genius make up for this fumble?
warning/tags: mostly fluff, a few kisses and one sexual reference but no smut described
Today is your birthday. You had been expecting to wake up to a barrage of kisses and Spencer's sleep-filled, sing-songy voice singing "happy birthday", but instead, it's quite the opposite.
You only wake up because you can't ignore the light pouring through the curtains any longer, and you find that blinding light really puts off the mood. However, the mood returns when you remember what day it is, and you smile, turning over to wake up your boyfriend.
"Spence, guess what today i-"
You pause, seeing that Spencer's side of the bed is empty. It shouldn't be, considering he took the day off to be with you. Maybe it's an important case, you think, but that doesn't stop the disappointment from settling in your stomach. Spencer normally would've left a note if he couldn't make it to something important, but today he didn't.
As the day progresses, you mostly go through the motions of what one normally does when spending their birthday home alone. You send 'thank you's to everyone who has sent a birthday message, and call close relatives. You also send Spencer a couple messages, to which he only replies "đ" and "sounds good." It's official, he forgot your birthday. You try to give him the benefit of the doubt, thinking he's just distracted with his heavy caseload or he hasn't had time to send you a proper birthday message, but then again, you've been raving about your upcoming birthday for weeks, and it's even circled comically in red on the calendar hanging on the fridge. Spencer's the one who suggested you get that calendar to begin with, and he can't even check it?
At 8pm, you settle down on the couch to watch Grey's Anatomy, one of your favourite shows. Your black cat, Luna, settles down in your lap, kneading at your thigh. It's like she can sense that you're feeling down, and she thinks her little biscuit making session will cheer you up. As cute as she is, she doesn't know that you don't exactly appreciate having your thigh poked and prodded like that, but you allow it, stroking her soft fur and scratching behind her ears. She mewls softly, looking up at you with her mossy green eyes.
"I know, Luna. Your dad is too busy chasing down bad guys to send one quick 'happy birthday!' to me, which, I know that sounds selfish, but how would you feel if I completely ignored you on your birthday, hm?"
Luna just meows again, purring softly as she curls up on your lap. You sigh, shifting to lay against the arm rest as you listen to Chasing Cars play through the TV speakers.
At 11:34pm, you're just barely keeping your eyes from closing when the front door opens and Spencer comes strolling in with Chinese food. Apology takeout, is he serious? But no, it's not even apology food, and this is made evident by Spencer's words:
"Hey y/n, and hello Luna. I was passing by that Chinese place we like and thought I'd pick something up, just because."
Just because... Just. Because. Is he hearing himself?? You sit up, watching Luna meow and jump off your lap, trotting upstairs to her favourite place by the corner of the bedroom. Now it's just you, Spencer, and the annoyingly good smell of chow mein.
"Okay. Anything else?"
Spencer looks at you, having the audacity to be confused.
"What else?"
You shake your head, starting to get more annoyed than sad.
"Are you forgetting what today is?"
He thinks for a moment, then gives up. "What's today?"
You scoff, baffled that he's managed to make it a whole 23 and a half hours without somehow being reminded that it's-
"My birthday, Spencer. It's my birthday, and somehow, you forgot."
Spencer's face goes through about five different emotions before he settles on guilt.
"Baby..."
"Don't 'baby' me. I've literally been reminding you for weeks, because it's the first birthday in a while that I've actually been excited about celebrating. How could you forget?" The hurt seeps into your voice, and Spencer finally understands how much he messed up.
"Y/n, I am so, so sorry. Between work and teaching, I completely forgot. But that's not an excuse, because I should've done everything I could to remember. That's where I went wrong, not taking literally one minute to set a reminder on my phone. I care about you so much, you know that, right? If I could go back, I'd set ten million reminders. Probably not actually possible, but I'd try. I'm sorry, y/n. I love you."
By the end of his speech, he's made his way over to you and has you pulled close against his chest, and you can't resist wrapping your arms around him, because you know he means every word he just said. You tilt your head up, and he leans down to meet you, planting a soft, warm kiss on your lips. After trying to suppress it, you can't help but smile, looking away. Spencer grins.
"See, you're smiling. You forgive me."
"Hey, I didn't say I forgive you, but this is a step towards that. The second step is giving me the sex I missed out on this morning since you had to rush off to work."
He smirks, wrapping his arms around you and lifting you up in bridal style with ease, already making the ascent to the master bedroom.
At 1 am, you find yourself cuddled against Spencer's chest, kissing the warm skin.
"I must say, you definitely made up for forgetting my birthday."
"Oh yeah? Maybe this is how I should make up for all my wrongdoings."
"Hang on, I'm not that easy. You still have to work for total forgiveness, but for now, I'm satisfied."
He smiles, leaning down to press a small kiss to your lips. "Good."
The room falls into silence, but it gets broken by a faint meow from the corner of the room. The two of you break out into laughter.
"I forgot she was there." Spencer says.
"Same. Do you think she was watching?" You ask.
"I hope not, otherwise she might just be scarred for life."
You chuckle, tracing over the line of Spencer's collarbone with your finger.
"You know, you haven't actually said the words yet."
"What words?"
"Spencer."
He thinks, then grins. "Oh, right." Spencer plants a kiss on your forehead, then says the words you just wanted to hear from him to be happy.
Hi, I saw your post about Spencer Reid requests. I haven't seen this crossover, but maybe Criminal Minds x The Mentalist? I love both shows and think it would be interesting to see a story about Spencer Reid meeting Patrick Jane's daughter. Maybe she stayed with him during the Red John attack and everyone says she's just like her father. She could join the BAU. I don't have any specifics, but that's just what I was thinking. Sending love and encouragement!
hi, thanks for the request and encouragement! unfortunately, i haven't actually watched the mentalist đ but i have been thinking about watching it so if i do, i'll absolutely come back to this request. thanks! â€ïž
summary: spencer claims carrying you to bed was "no big deal", but tia says he's into you. who do you believe?
---
a/n: now introducing more interactions from the other characters, yippee!
series masterlist here
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You sit up, rubbing your eyes and letting out a yawn. Then you sit still for a moment, staring at the wall as you run through the situation in your head. You fell asleep at the counter, so Spencer picked you up, and he could've tossed you onto the couch, but he didn't. He took you to your room, laid you down in your bed, and pulled the covers over you. You're not sure what to do with that information. You're dreading having to face Spencer when you leave your room. It's probably going to be so awkward. After taking a moment to psych yourself up, a long sigh, and a bit of mental reassurance, you get out of bed, heading to the kitchen to find Spencer, Tia and Mickey already there.
"Morning, guys." You mumble, still sleepy. You also use this sleepiness as an excuse to avoid eye contact with Spencer, because you're not sure what you'll feel when you look at him.
You get 3/3 greetings in return, all said in unison. You sit down on a barstool next to Spencer. You'd rather sit somewhere else, but the other three seats are taken and you don't want to be the only one sitting in the living room.
"Did you sleep well?" Spencer asks.
"Hm?"
"Did you sleep well, I said. You were out cold last night, so I assume you did."
"Oh, yeah, I did." You reply, not sure how to ask the question plaguing your thoughts. It's silent for a moment, then Spencer speaks.
"...Yes, I carried you to bed." He says, somehow reading your thoughts. This sentence also causes Mickey and Tia to perk up, suddenly very interested in your conversation.
"Dude, you carried her to bed?" Mickey asks, a smirk on his face.
"Yeah... so what? She fell asleep right here on the counter, so I picked her up and took her to bed. Saved her from a hell of a lot of back pain. I don't see the problem."
That earns a snort from Mickey, and he grins.
"Not a problem, per se, but you don't typically carry your roommate to bed. Especially one you've only known for two weeks. Was she snoring?"
You roll your eyes, tapping the table to get their attention.
" 'She' is sitting right here, Michael. And I'll have you know, I don't snore."
"Well... you weren't snoring, it was more like a little huff here and there. It was kinda cute." Spencer smiles, and you can feel your cheeks getting hot.
"Oooo, someone's blushing..." Tia chimes in.
"It's a natural flush from sleep, Tia."
"Or, it's a natural flush from knowing Spencer's big, strong arms wrapped around you and carried you to bed. Hey, I'd blush too."
"I'm not blushing!"
"Okay, okay, knock it off, Tia. Guys, it's not a big deal. She was sleeping on the counter, I knew it wouldn't be comfortable, so I took her to bed. I'm sure you guys would do the same. Well, I don't know about Tia, you've been skipping arm day a lot lately." Spencer smirks, earning a smack on the back of the neck from Tia. He scowls, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Mm, I guess so, but still. I've got my eye on you, Spence." Mickey says, a suspicious look on his face.
"He's into you, y/n." Tia grins, sitting cross-legged on your bedroom floor.
"No, he's not. You heard him, he just didn't want to hear me complain about my back hurting in your morning." You say, highlighting something in your psychology textbook.
"...You're not serious."
"What?" You look up, wondering what she's talking about.
"Y/n. When has a guy EVER done something like that for a girl and immediately admitted it's because he likes her? Literally never, they can't do it. Their brains are wired to deny until they can't anymore. He's not going to admit that he carried you to bed because he has feelings for you!"
"Tia, I think all those redbulls are giving you delusions, not wings. Spencer does not like me like that, and even if he did, I'm not interested in him, so leave it at that."
Tia, letting out an exasperated sigh, throws her hands up in defeat. "Fine. I give up. But when another girl comes along and takes him for herself, I won't offer you any pity."
You chuckle, shaking your head. "That won't happen, but okay. Whatever you say, Tia."
summary: it's been two weeks since you moved into your shared apartment, and you're slowly settling in. you wake up for water in the middle of the night, and you're met with a surprise when you enter the kitchen
warnings/tags: not really explicit, just a conversation between two people getting to know eachother, mildly suggestive content for two seconds then it's gone
series masterlist here for anyone wanting part one
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It's 2am. You've been up so long that you've passed the threshold of tiredness and are now just laying awake, your eyes sore but unable to close. You begin to feel a slight dryness in your throat, the one that indicates you're thirsty. With a sigh, you sit up, swinging your legs out of bed and standing up.
It's a rough journey to the kitchen; navigating in the dark is rather hard when you've only lived in a place for two weeks. After bumping into two walls and the edge of the kitchen island, you arrive in front of the sink. You take a glass from the side, filling it up with cold water. You take a few sips, feeling the coolness of the water wash down your throat. By this point, your eyes have adjusted to the dark, but that doesn't stop you from bumping into something hard as soon as you turn around. The thing lets out a soft "hmph," making you realise it's a person, Spencer.
"Sorry.. I didn't see you there." You mumble, slightly embarrassed. Mostly from the fact that you practically kissed his chest when you collided with him. His skin is soft, you think.
"No worries. It's pretty hard to see when you're fumbling around in the dark." You can't see his facial expression properly, by you can tell by his tone of voice that he's amused by your embarrassment.
You roll your eyes, moving to sit at the kitchen island. "What are you doing up?"
"Heard some noises, came to make sure you weren't a burglar or something."
"You couldn't tell by the various thumps followed by 'ow' in my voice that I was me?"
"Female burglars exist, you know. For all I know, you could be one. Inspecting our stuff during the day, snatching it at night. That's a smart setup you've got going on." He grins.
"I'm not a burglar, Spencer. Burglars are silent. I tend to be very vocal about what I'm feeling, hence the numerous 'ow's you heard." It's silent for a moment, and you can tell he's thinking something.
"You're vocal, huh?"
"Yes."
"With everything?"
"I guess so... where are you going with this?"
"Nowhere, it's just good to know. At least I'll know what to expect when you bring a date home."
"What?"
"..."
You gasp as the realisation hits you. You don't respond, reaching out and punching his shoulder. You may be small for your size, but it just means there's more force packed into a smaller surface area.
"Ow." He grumbles.
"Now who's vocal?"
"...Got me there."
You smile, and so does he, a comfortable silence settling over the room. Since you moved in, all three of your roommates have been pretty welcoming. You and Tia are already good friends, and Mickey knows how to make you laugh. Spencer helps you study, and you always thought geniuses were really awkward, but he disproved that. The four of you have a good dynamic going on.
"You know, I've been practicing my handstands."
"Yeah?"
"Oh yeah. I held one for thirty seconds yesterday."
"Seriously? That's.. actually better than I was expecting."
"Mhm. Don't underestimate me. I'd like to see you hold a handstand for thirty seconds."
That gets a laugh from you, and Spencer frowns.
"What?"
"I used to be a gymnast, Spencer. I can hold a handstand for a lot longer than thirty seconds."
"Damn. Okay, maybe you shouldn't do that, before my ego gets bruised."
"Yeah, I think I'll just stay right here."
You sip your water again, your eyes suddenly feeling very drowsy. You ignore it, wanting to keep talking to Spencer. But he doesn't ignore your obvious fatigue.
"Alright, come on. Let's go to bed."
"I'm not tired."
"You are. If I let you stay here any longer, you'll pass out and probably wake up in a puddle of spilled water. Up we get."
"Noo... I'm enjoying this."
"What, falling asleep on the cold quartz?"
"No. Talking. It's nice. And I don't..." You trail off, already riding a sheep to dreamland.
"You don't what?"
You don't respond, your breathing evening out as you sleep right there on the counter. Spencer smiles, shaking his head and letting out a soft chuckle.
The next morning, you wake up in the warmth of your bed, clutching a pillow against your cheek. Warm streaks of light come through the gap in your curtains. You stretch, slowly recalling the events of last night. You remember talking to Spencer, drinking your water, and falling asleep. At the counter, not in your bed. You stiffen as the realisation dawns on you.
summary: you walk into your shared accommodation and find your three roommates all in the living room. one girl, two guys. one guy is doing a handstand as the other two people egg him on.
a/n: first chapter, also my first time writing a story outside of school so my techniques may be a little underwhelming. also im writing this at 12.30 am because why not
After making the trip up to the tenth floor of the student accommodation building with all your stuff, you step out of the elevator. The nerves hit you all at once, almost knocking you over. You've never lived with anyone other than your mom, and as a child you rarely had sleepovers. Now you're going to be living with three strangers for the next year, and the anxiety is already starting to set in. Will they be kind, will they be funny, will they be jerks?
The question don't stop coming as you push your boxes in a line down the hall to apartment 10F. You arrive outside the door, pulling the key the receptionist gave you out of your pocket and inserting it into the keyhole. It clicks, and you turn the door knob, pushing the door open.
Immediately, you're met with... a sight. All three of your roommates are in the living room. They're not sitting on the couch waiting for you, like normal people would. No, one guy is doing a handstand, barely managing to stay upright, while another guy and a girl cheer and hold him up. They don't notice your entrance. Since they're occupied, you take the time you study each one.
Guy #1, handstand guy, is tall; you'd estimate around 6'1, 6'2. It's hard to tell with his legs flailing about like that. He's got shoulder length, brown curls, brown eyes and a nice smile. One more thing you just so happen to notice is that he's well built. Broad shoulders, large biceps, and abs. What?? You're not staring, it's just hard not to look when gravity is pulling his shirt down.
Guy #2 is also tall, at least 6'3. He's got dark fluffy hair, green eyes and tanned skin. He's got the same figure as guy #1, but slightly more athletic. You've seen him before, actually. He's on the male swim team. You know this because you're on the female swim team. He shook a vending machine for you once when your cheetos got stuck. He's a nice guy.
The girl is gorgeous. Right away you can tell she's latina, short, like you, but amazing figure and signature make-up. She's got dark brown curls with caramel highlights up in a messy bun. You know you're going to get along with her, it's inevitable. She's wearing sweatpants and a black tank top. She's beautiful, and you wouldn't be surprised is she was dating one of the guys.
After you finish studying your roommates, you finally decide to make yourself known, a smirk on your face.
"That certainly is one way to greet your new roommate."
The three of them freeze, which isn't good for the guy doing the handstand, because he no longer has his roommates holding his legs up and he comes crashing to the ground, but of course he isn't going to embarrass himself like that, so he quickly stands up, staring at you along with his other roommates.
The girl is the first to break the silence, and her tone is already very welcoming.
"Hi! You're y/n, right? It's so nice to meet you. I'm Tia Ramirez. This is Michael Warren, but we just call him Mickey and/or mouseman."
"We do not call me mouseman." Mickey retorts.
"As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted," she shoots a look at Mickey. "This is mouseman. And then last but not least, the idiot who was just on the floor is Spencer Reid."
"Nice to meet you." Spencer says, offering you a warm smile and a wave, his cheeks slightly flushed from the embarrassment of falling and also from being upside down a moment ago.
You grin, already looking foward to living with these three.
"Okay, I'll keep all of the information in mind. I'm y/n y/l/n. I think this year will turn out to be fun."
hi everyone! im new to tumblr, i decided to start using it to write my own series based on criminal minds because i can never find something like this usually and i want to start writing. it's spencer reid x fem!reader, and it's about them being roommates in college and slowly having to develop their friendship. it will be a slowburn romance.
the spencer reid i have in mind for this fic isn't the typical one like in the show, hence why in my bio is says im mainly writing these for myself. if you don't like it, feel free to request something and i'll try my best to fulfill it, or you can just not read the fics.
spencer will still be the genius we all know, but more like a hot nerd? and i know the show says he finished college (or started, can't remember) at 12, but for the sake of the plot it's both spencer and reader are 18.
im from the uk so there may be some terms and phrases that others may not understand, although i highkey will probably just use american terms and spelling. if anything isn't understandable, just comment and i'll explain!
im going to try and include a range of themes like angst, fluff, normal stuff. if i feel confident writing smut i'll try but don't expect it to be amazing.
You were sprawled across his couch like you belonged there, your legs draped comfortably over his lap while you leaned back against the cushions. One hand held the remote, the other lazily picked at the takeout box balanced on your stomach.
Spencer had long since stopped pretending he was watching the TV.
He was watching the way your nose scrunched when the characters said something cheesy.
On the screen, two actors stood dramatically in the rain while violins swelled.
âOh my god. This is perfect.â
Spencer tilted his head.
âStatistically speaking, it isnât.â
You slowly turned to look at him.
ââŠDonât start.â
âIâm just saying,â he continued, adjusting his glasses, âthe probability of two strangers repeatedly encountering each other in a large metropolitan area until they eventually fall in love is extremely low.â
You paused the movie immediately. The dramatic music cut off mid-crescendo.
Spencer blinked.
You squinted.
âSpencer.â
âYes?â
âYou are not going to ruin my movie with math.â
âIâm not ruining it,â he said calmly. âIâm contextualizing it.â
You tossed a dumpling into your mouth and shifted slightly, your legs pressing more comfortably against his. Spencerâs hands instinctively steadied your ankle. He pretended that hadnât affected him.
âFine,â you said. âMr. Statistics.â
âDoctor.â
You smiled and pointed the remote at him like it was a microphone.
âExplain love then.â
Spencer didnât even hesitate.
âI already did.â
You frowned.
ââŠWhen?â
He gestured vaguely toward the coffee table.
âTwo months ago.â
Your eyes narrowed.
âWhat?â
Spencer leaned back slightly into the couch, looking almost sheepish.
âI calculated it.â
You stared at him.
ââŠYou calculated love.â
âYes.â
You sat up a little, legs still across his lap.
âYouâre kidding.â
âIâm not.â
He reached for a napkin and absentmindedly began writing on it.
âYou see, the probability of two people meeting in the first place depends on several environmental variables. Workplace proximity, social overlap, daily schedule alignmentââ
You leaned forward, fascinated despite yourself, âYou did this for us?â
Spencer nodded, still writing, âAt first it was just curiosity.â
He slid the napkin toward you. It was covered in tiny numbers and arrows.
âYou and I worked in the same building,â he continued. âBut there were approximately four hundred employees. The probability of us interacting regularly was already fairly small.â
You glanced up at him.
âBut we did.â
âYes.â He tapped the paper. âThen thereâs compatibility. Shared interests, similar humor patterns, conversational pacing. Those variables drastically reduce the population of viable partners.â
âYou measured our humor patterns?â
âYou laugh at eighty-two percent of my jokes.â
You stared.
ââŠI do?â
âYes.â
Spencer looked almost proud of that statistic.
You laughed.
âThere it is again,â he said softly, pointing. âEighty-three.â
You shook your head, smiling, âYouâre ridiculous.â
âPossibly.â He tapped the napkin again. âWhen you combine those factors, the probability of us becoming romantically involved becomes extremely small.â
You studied the messy calculations.
âSo whatâs the number?â
Spencer hesitated. Then he said quietly, âApproximately one in several million.â
Your eyes widened.
ââŠSeriously?â
âYes.â
You leaned back into the couch again, processing that. Your legs shifted slightly against his, and Spencerâs hand automatically rested on your ankle again like it belonged there.
âSo what youâre saying,â you said slowly, âis that weâre statistically impossible.â
âNot impossible,â Spencer corrected gently.
He looked at you.
Just you.
âExtremely unlikely.â
You smiled softly.
âWow.â
Spencer glanced at the paused movie.
Then back at you.
âSo when people say love is miraculous,â he said thoughtfully, âfrom a statistical standpoint⊠theyâre not entirely wrong.â
Your heart did something warm and stupid.
You nudged his leg lightly. âSo basicallyâŠâ You gestured between the two of you, âWe beat the odds.â
Spencerâs expression softened.
âYes.â
You grabbed the remote again.
âWell,â you said, hitting play, âI like that explanation better than destiny.â
On the TV, the couple finally kissed in the rain. You sighed happily and leaned back again. Spencer watched the screen for a moment. Then he glanced down at you.
âTechnically speaking,â he said quietly, âour probability just increased.â
You raised an eyebrow, âOh?â
He nodded toward your legs resting comfortably across his lap.
âPhysical proximity.â
You laughed, âYouâre unbelievable.â
But you didnât move your legs. Spencer didnât move his hand from your ankle either.
And privately, he thought that out of every calculation he had ever done in his life, this one was his favorite result.
