#spender reid x adhd fem reader

[007reid]

yay! (honestly don’t stress about the adhd characterisation being perfect)

r cannot stay still during one of the cases and the other officers at the *insert state* station get really frustrated with r's hyperactive tendencies (pacing, humming, fidgeting etc) (possibly a small bit of angst)

and of course because of that we get an overprotective dr reid because he can see that r is trying to mask to appease the officers (he most likely knows the facts and all that jazz about how harmful masking can be)

masking is where we basically try and suppress our actions - ignoring what our brain is telling us to do and trying to act ‘normal’ (it is very exhausting and honestly just sucks - can also lead to mental health issues)

also tysm if you consider this <3

- 🦕 xx

HI DINO ANON!! i imagined glasses reid for this cus he’s the sassiest and spencer is def sassy here. i hope i did it okay, kinda nervous about this one. enjoy!

spencer reid x adhd fem!reader

cases involving children always stresses you out more than usual, and this one is no exception.

hotch is cruel in the way that he requested for you not to join the team. 'request' is actually him being nice. you stood your ground until he demanded you to, and you know he's right, knows why you can't be with the team this time. "you're too shaken up, y/n," hotch had said, firmly, eyes as soft as steel. "you won't benefit the team. just hang tight and keep an eye out, alright?”

penelope had gone back to the hotel but it's hard for you to muster up the will to. you need to hear the news right when the team comes back, need to know what happens to the two siblings held hostage, and the only way to get immediate information once the information comes is to lurk in the louisiana's sheriff department and wait for the inevitable phone call.

one of the assistants were nice enough to hand you a donut with a pink napkin for it to sit on and a coffee, but god forbid you have any caffeine or sugar so you set it deliberately to the side for spencer, who, predictably, comes by a second later and it grabs his attention immediately, pointing to it as if to ask "you want this?" silently. you shake your head. he stuffs the donut into his mouth and takes the coffee with him as he makes to go somewhere else.

you're grateful for spencer, and you wish that you can say something about it but your mouth's clamp shut and you don't remember the last time you've been so nervous on a case. you're no newbie to the bau, you know the procedure and you know the horrific scenes that goes on but it's been a while since there is children involved and it took you for a toll and you don't know how to deal with it.

spencer had insisted staying at the station with you and you know the officers aren’t too pleased about it, having two fbi officers strolling around in their post just because. they can't send you back, but they’re dying too; you can tell it on their disdained faces that they're practically looking for a reason to kick the two of you out.

feeling constrained by standing in the hard, wooden stool, you decide to get up and take a walk around the pace, and a walk turns into just pacing back and forth between these two desks and then humming a little song that’s been stuck in your head, trying to keep your mind distracted and off the possibilities of what could be happening to those innocent kids right now if the team hasn't taken care of everything yet. your eyes stay on the dark green telephone that sits menacingly and quietly in the sheriff's office desk. you don’t pick up the glances directed at you.

“hey, ma’am?” someone speaks up. you pause and whip your head around. you could read the man’s face as legibly as a news magazine. he’s annoyed and fed up, his lips turned at an ugly angle. you feel embarrassment bubble up inside of you. “can you sit down? we have work to take care of.”

first thing that comes to your mind is to talk back. the fuck you know about workload? you want to spit into the man’s face. i’m with the fucking fbi, jackass. you just sit at a fucking computer.

the fierce words don’t come out of you, however. instead, you just feel silly and childish, walking back to the stiff chair you had abandoned earlier and try to make yourself comfortable, mumbling a half-assed “sorry” under your breath.

“no worries, ma’am,” the man says, and it sounds saturated and sarcastic, and you can feel yourself burn a brighter red, ridiculed.

you hide the tremble in your hands by tucking it in the pockets of your fbi issued hoodie and resists your foot from tapping on the floor, looking around anxiously for something to watch.

“does her pacing ‘round a little bit distract you that much?”

spencer suddenly appears right next to you, enough bitterness on his face to give the man a run for his money. he looks strange like this, the innocent, permanently confused frown on his face replaced with a glare, harsh and intense under the gleaming of his glasses.

“yeah, it does, you android,” the man sneers, stopping his typing on the computer. he leans back on his chair. you feel the defensiveness in you rising up at the man’s words. “this place’s for business, not you kids’ playground, kay?”

“kids?” spencer says incredulously, laughing. “kids and we have a say above you as federal workers and you as state. you work under your boss who work under another boss who work under my boss. that’s three tiers, if you got lost along the way. we’re kids and we got more going for us than you ever do,” and spencer says all this so casually, as if he’s informing the man of the littleness of his worth as a fact instead of an insult. it stabs twice as deep and it shows on the man’s face.

“whatever, fucking android,” the man grumbles, continuing to type.

spencer, bless him, can’t seem to keep his mouth shut for to long and spinning around to face you, water in his hand. “here,” he press the bottle to your trembling hand, making you accept it. “don’t do that again, okay?” he says, sternly.

“do what?”

“suppressing it.” he doesn’t need to define what ‘it’ is. you get the memo immediately and look down in shame, biting at your lip. “it makes things worse, okay? you know it does.” he frowns, except his lips jut out in a pout. it’s cute. you guess spencer reid’s a little bit cute. spencer is oblivious to your little revelation as he continues his tangent, without a thought in the world. “masking can lead to anxiety or depression if you feel like you're constantly under too much stress. this isn’t a stress free job, y/n. you can’t keep piling more on top of what you already got,” he says, softly.

“i know,”

“i know you do,”

right then, the phone rings and you nearly trip over spencer’s beat up converses trying to get to the sheriff’s office fast enough. spencer catches you by the hand as you come sending towards the floor and the both of you rush, your hand in his as sheriff brody picks up the phone and press it to his ear.

a beat.

“they’re safe.”

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