tinygreybearpaws-blog

[tinygreybearpaws-blog]

Requests

Hey! 

I’m open for any Spencer Reid x Reader requests! 

Send me a message ~

-tinygreybearpaws

[tinygreybearpaws-blog]

Handsy

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 After drinks with the other profilers, Spencer and his girlfriend (who happens to be the newest addition to the BAU) head back to her place to take their relationship to the next level: using hands.

𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴 18+, hand stuff

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁 3220

♡♡♡

I grab my go bag and walk the few blocks to y/n’s apartment. She’s waiting for me just inside the building and when she sees me she opens the door. She must have not been waiting long. We get in the elevator and she grabs my hand after pressing the button for the fourteenth floor. “How tired are you?” she asks with a smile. There’s something different about her smile, it’s more mischievous than normal. “As tired as you are,” I answer. We step out of the elevator and she leads me down the hall. “Do you maybe want to …” she trails as she unlocks her door. When we’re inside she finishes her statement. “... Try something new?” “Like what?” I ask with nervous anticipation. She raises her hands. “Hand stuff?” she asks. When I don’t respond right away she speaks again. “We don’t have to if you don’t want to. I know it’s a little more … high risk than making out.” “No, I want to. To be honest, I’m just a little nervous.” “I am too,” she admits. She takes a step towards me and pulls on my tie gently to bring her lips to mine. “But I’m also a little excited.” “Me too,” I say against her lips. “So let’s see what happens. If we want to stop, we stop,” she says simply. “Okay.” She leads me to her bedroom and turns on a lamp in the corner that emits a dull light. I set my bag on the ground and as she takes off her shoes and I take off my converse. “Do you want to take off some of my clothes?” she asks. I take a step closer to her and nod. I bring my fingers to where her blouse is tucked into her skirt and my lips find hers. She puts her hands on my face and one through my hair. I untuck her blouse slowly, the same tempo as our lips. A feeling below my belt is growing slowly and it feels good. Once her shirt is untucked she helps me take it off by moving her arms through it. I drop it beside me. I look at her chest, just able to make out what she looks like in the dim lighting. The way her breasts fill her bra interests me like nothing else has. She smiles at my naivety and takes my hands. I realize what she’s doing and before I can react she’s placed my hands on top of her bra. I rub my thumb across her skin, where her breast meets the silky material of her bra. I don’t mean to, but a low exhale escapes from my lips. She brings her lips to mine. I squeeze her, unable to comprehend the juxtaposition of how soft and firm they are at the same time. I move my hands down her stomach, feeling her waist move as she breathes and I reach around to the back of her skirt where the zipper is. I undo it and it drops to the ground. I reach down and press her hips to mine while palming her backside. She hums into my mouth in approval. The material of her sheer pantyhose is silky too and feels nice against my fingertips as I explore her body. “Can I take off some of your clothes?” she asks, her lips moving against mine and I nod. She starts with my tie, her fingers taking longer than mine would. The anticipation is growing. She then untucks my shirt and starts undoing the buttons. “Can I ask how far you’ve gone with someone in the past?” I ask. She smiles, knowing she’s already given me permission countless times to ask whatever I want. “Hand stuff,” she answers as she finishes the buttons. “Did you do it to him or did he do it to you?” I ask. She moves her hands to my shoulders and removes my shirt for me. “Both,” she answers. “But to be honest, it was kind of a shit show,” she giggles. “Why?” I ask, matching her humor. “I offered to tell him what feels good to me, but he didn’t want his ego bruised. I ended up not ever being close with a very sore pussy the next day.” Her words catch me off guard. She leans up and pecks me on the lips. “Sorry, do you not like the word pussy?” “No, I just wasn’t expecting you to say that,” I say with a little laugh. “I actually really like the word,” she comments. “I don’t know why.” She brings her fingertips up and down my chest as she speaks. “Will you tell me?” I ask. “What feels good,” I clarify. “Music to my ears, Doctor Spencer Reid. I would love to tell you what feels good,” she answers with a smile. She undoes my belt and then my zipper and my pants fall halfway down my legs. “Let me take these off so they don’t get ripped,” she tells me as she pulls down her dark, see through pantyhose. I use the time to take off my pants and my socks. When she’s done she throws them in her laundry basket and then sits on her bed to wait for me. When I’m done she grabs my hands and pulls me to her so our lips meet again. As we begin to kiss again she lets go of my hands and positions herself to be more centered on the bed and I follow her, resting my weight on my forearm. With my free hand I rest my hand on her breast and feel her nipple through the thin material. She moans into my mouth softly. “Do you want to feel how much you’re turning me on?” she asks. “Yes,” I’m able to say. She takes my free hand and trails it down her stomach until I can feel the silkiness of her panties. She moves it even further down and I can feel how wet the material is. “That’s from just now?” I ask. “Yeah,” she says shyly. “I’ve told you, Spence, you really turn me on.” With that, my confidence is boosted and I bring my lips to hers again. I never knew I had the power to do this to a woman, let alone someone so beautiful and sexy. Her hand leaves mine and goes to the nape of my neck. Feeling brazen, I move my hand across the material and her hips move to meet my fingers. She makes small noises of approval now. “Can I take these off?” I ask and she nods. We both sit up and I slip off her panties and she kicks them off to the ground. I notice her trying to take off her bra. “Can I take that off?” I ask. Her hands stop and she smiles. “Sure.” Any feeling of nervousness I had is slowly melting away. Instead I feel confident, sexy, and ready to learn. I straddle her so our faces are towards each other, she leans up to kiss me but I back away. “I want to remember this,” I tell her. “What do you mean?” “I want to remember the first time I took a woman's bra off. I want to see it to remember it more clearly,” I explain. She smiles and tilts her head to the side. “Okay,” she agrees. I reach around her and feel the clasp. It only takes me a second or two to figure it out, and once I have it comes loose and she moves her arms and tosses it to the floor. I’ve seen breasts in films, books, diagrams, and even victims. But up until now the sight of them was purely informational or even art. Now that they’re in front of me, let alone attached to someone I truly care about … I never want to forget this moment. She grabs one and I marvel at her. “You can touch them,” she says with a small chuckle. I take a second, to have a thought of gratitude about what is happening. “I’ve never seen you so speechless,” she says. “You’re kind of scaring me,” she adds lightheartedly. “I’m sorry, it’s just…” I trail. She reaches for one of my hands and puts it on her right breast. I can feel her nipple react to my touch and I feel her breathing slightly change. She reaches up to the nape of my neck and brings her lips to mine. We kiss for a while, enjoying the way our tongues move together. With each small moan I hear from her as I feel her soft full breasts in my hands, while brushing my fingers across her nipples, I grow hotter and hotter. I feel like I’m sweating too much, but if y/n notices she doesn’t say anything. “This feels really good,” she tells me, breaking our lips together so we can both catch our breath. She moves her hand over mine. She moves my hands with hers, directing mine like a puppeteer. She rubs my thumb across her nipple. “This feels really good,” she tells me with a breathy tone and I take notes. She uses my fingers to lightly pinch her nipples. “This feels really good,” she instructs again. “This doesn’t?” I ask, cupping her breast and massaging it with my thumb. “It does,” she reassures me. “But when you do those two things I just showed you, it’s like there’s a direct feeling to my pussy. I can feel it throughout my whole body,” she tells me. I nod, telling her that I understand. “They are also getting a little sensitive now from over stimulation,” she tells me. I move my hands to her waist. “Am I hurting you?” I ask worriedly. “No, not at all. It feels good, but I can tell my nipples will be really sensitive tomorrow,” she says with a small laugh. “They’re sensitive, like me,” she jokes. “Do you want to try something else?” she asks. “Yes,” I answer. She moves her hands down my chest to the top of my boxer briefs. I stop her by putting my hands on top of hers. “I thought you meant you were going to teach me some more,” I tell her. “We’ve focused a lot of time on me, I thought we could move on to you?” she answers. “I can wait,” I tell her and it’s the truth. I’ve waited twenty-six years for her. I move her hands to be around my neck and she wraps them around me. I lean down to peck her lips. “So, uh, I’ve been doing a little reading,” I tell her. “I didn’t know you like reading,” she jokes. “I want to see if what I read was true.” I peck her lips. Now she’s not joking, she’s curious. “Reading about what?” she asks. “Well, not nipples. I guess that’ll be next on my reading list,” I admit. “Reading about what then?” she asks. I rarely have her in this spot: where she’s curious and waiting for my response. Normally it’s the other way around. I kiss her and she responds, and slowly I guide her so she’s laying on her back with me on top of her. I shift my weight so I’m laying beside her propped up on my elbow. With my right hand I move from down the center of her chest while still kissing her. As I get to just centimeters away from what my hand is moving towards she stops kissing. “Spence,” she says breathily. I lean down to kiss her shoulder, “yeah, are you okay?” “Yeah, I just …” she trails. “I just want you to know that there isn’t any pressure on tonight. I don’t want you to feel disappointed if I can’t finish: it’s not your fault if I can’t. You’ve already made me feel so special tonight and I’m so thankful for that.” I kiss her shoulder again. “I want to try though, if that’s okay with you.” I can see that behind her eyes she’s thinking and processing.  She finally nods and brings her lips back to mine. I read a lot of text about this: some advice columns, some informational text. I even looked at a few diagrams. I want to see if I can put this new knowledge into real practice. I reach down between her legs and her hips flex up as I do. I slip a finger in between her lips and feel how wet she is: how wet I’ve made her. Damn I don’t know if I’ve ever been this hard. I bring my finger up to the top of her and search for what I read about. I think I found it when her lips stop moving against mine. “Is that right?” I ask seriously. “Yeah,” she says, almost with a shocked tone. “Does that feel good?” I ask as I swirl my finger around. “Yeah,” she says, even more shocked than before. “I normally like back and forth as opposed to … oh fuck, yeah like that.” “You’re so wet,” I whisper, my voice low and airy. She moans lightly in response to what my hand is doing. I maybe should have started off at a slower speed, but she got excited when I started off a little faster, so I decide to be consistent. With my index finger I move it across in a diagonal motion, varying my speed every few moments. Either faster or returning to my original speed. Her hips move against me in appreciation and anticipation. “Fuck, Reid,” she whispers back. I bring my lips to peck hers once, but I feel like she needs to focus her attention to what my hand is doing instead of my lips so I settle for watching her face as I continue. She has her eyes closed and her hands are grabbing her breasts, squeezing them slightly. Her breathing has completely changed, getting slightly faster and faster. My finger gets tired, but I know there’s no way I’m stopping. I’ll do this all night if she wants me to. “Fuck,” she says after a few minutes of airy moans. “Okay, I’m close,” she tells me. “Don’t stop what you’re doing.” I want to ask what more I can do, but I don’t want to break her concentration. Then, without much warning, I feel her hips jump as she lets out a series of moans and curse words. After a few moments she grabs my hand and brings it to her chest. “Stop, it’s too much,” she tells me tiredly. I expect her to want a second to catch her breath, but she takes me off guard when she turns and brings her lips to mine. We kiss deeply and she presses the back of my head towards her, as if to not let me go. Her free hand travels down my chest and stops when it reaches the top of my boxer briefs. “Take these off,” she orders me in a low seductive tone. I waste no time. I move my hips up so I can move them down my legs and to the floor. “Fuck, Reid,” she says looking at my new exposed body part. I know from a statistical standpoint, I’m average. If anything, just slightly bigger than average, but from the way the words fall out of her mouth I can tell she doesn’t know what the average is. “Should I use lotion?” she asks me. She reaches down and brings her hand from the tip down to the base. “You don’t have to, but it would probably be easier.” I’m not sure how I’m able to come up with a complete sentence. Her touch is very distracting. “Is this you completely hard?” she asks. She sits up and reaches across to her night stand where she has some hand lotion. She rubs it on her right hand. “Yeah, pretty much,” I answer. “Here, sit here,” she tells me and I move so I’m sitting up with my back against her pillows. She sits beside me with her left leg tucked under her and to the side. “I’m really excited for this,” she leans in and tells me. She puts her hand around me and moves it up and down, spreading the lotion along my length. “Tell me if there’s something I’m doing wrong, or something I can be doing better,” she adds. “You can actually have your hand a little tighter,” I tell her. “Like this?” she asks and I can answer with a word. I instead answer her with a noise I’ve never heard myself make. “I really like turning you on,” she says. Her mouth is close to my ear and I can feel her warm breath across my neck. She moves her hand to play with my hair. “I like hearing you moan. It makes me so wet.” Sure, I’ve pictured this happening a few times, but never did I imagine her talking to me the way she is now. Every word brings me closer. “Y/n,” I say, struggling to keep my eyes open. “Yeah,” she says, moving her hand a little faster. “Where do you want me to … “ I can’t finish my thought, too distracted by how her hand just got a little tighter. “Where do you want to?” she asks breathily. When I don’t answer she gives me options. “My mouth, my stomach, my hands, my tits, I can get a tissue?” she asks. I didn’t even know some of those were options. “I can come in your mouth?” I ask, opening my eyes to be sure she’s not messing with me. She bites her lip and nods. “Just tell me when you’re close and I’ll let you take over.” It really doesn’t take long, which I don’t know if that’s a good or bad thing. Just a few moments later, I tell her I’m close and I replace her hand with my own as she readjusts her position and her mouth is open near where my hand is moving. “I’m going to ...” I manage to say, the sight of her too much for me to last any longer. At my words she grabs the tip and puts it in her mouth and I empty myself. When I stop, she licks the tip clean, causing me to shiver in pleasure. “Come here,” I tell her, and she crawls up on top of me and our lips meet. We lay like that for a few moments, both of us catching our breaths. Eventually, y/n convinces us both that we should get under the covers, but she doesn’t move to put any clothes on so neither do I. I lie on my back and she finds a comfortable spot in the nook of my arm with her hand on my chest. “I would do that all over again,” she tells me. “I would wait another twenty-six years to do that again.” “Think about how good actual sex is going to feel.” “I’m free tomorrow, I think,” I joke. She laughs but doesn’t say anything for a few moments. “I’m going to need time to process all this,” she finally says. “Take all the time you need,” I assure her.

#spencer reid #spencerreid #spencer reid smut #smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you

[tinygreybearpaws-blog]

The Sting

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 Spencer has a crush on a fellow profiler and it's amplified when he and her have to pretend to be a couple on a sting. Maybe with a little help from Penelope he can ask her out.

𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader (Fluff)

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴 none!

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁 1806

♡♡♡

“I don’t see the problem,” Hotch says reacting to my reluctancy. “Y/n, will you be okay with this?” Hotch asks her. “Sure,” but her voice gives her away. She’s as reluctant as I am. “Look, you two fit the victim profile perfectly. ‘Couple in their late twenties, reserved.’ I’d send Morgan and JJ, but they don’t fit the MO. Morgan comes across as too aggressive,” Hotch says seriously. “Morgan and JJ will be inside the club, and the rest of us will be outside with SWAT.” “You guys will be safe. I won’t let this unsub come close to hurting you,” Morgan says in a serious tone. He’s always been protective of the team, but especially when it comes to myself and y/n: I think it’s because we’re the youngest members. “Okay,” I agree a little more confidently. Hotch has proposed that y/n and I act as a couple and go to the next club that we’ve predicted the unsub will target. After a ‘drink’, y/n will excuse herself in hopes of trying to get the unsub to follow her. The problem is that we have no idea what the unsub looks like. Normally in this situation we know who they are and we can follow their every move. In this situation, we’d be going in blind. “Okay,” y/n agrees, but she’s still unsure.

Two hours later we’re sitting at the bar of this club. We both have earpieces. Y/n has her gun concealed in her purse, but it’s in a position where I could grab it more easily. The bartender has been informed to serve us mocktails and we both take a sip. “Come on guys, you need to act like the previous victims,” Hotch says into our ears. He’s watching from a camera outside in a van. I know what he means, but I can’t seem to make myself move my body in the way I should. The previous victims on camera were obviously a couple: they held hands, touched each other on the shoulders, even kissed. Y/n and I make eye contact, but don’t move. “Spencer, grab her hand,” Hotch understands that he’ll have to walk me through this. I reach across and do. She takes a deep breath and exhales into a new state of mind. She’s given into this idea and is now in work mode. She smiles and leans towards me to whisper in my ear. “Are you uncomfortable?” she asks me, her question not matching her body language. “No, I’ve done this before,” I respond, matching her smile. “Better,” Hotch says, even though he can’t hear our conversation. She takes her hand from mine and moves it to my face for a moment. I’m wondering what she’s doing when I realize she’s combing my hair with her fingers so it doesn’t hang in front of my face. She moves her hands through my hair twice before bringing her hand back down to my hand and squeezing. This gesture is so small, but something a girlfriend would definitely do. My heart beats faster, but I keep my breath steady. Could I fall any harder for her than I already had? I guess she was going to answer that unspoken question for me: yes, I could and I was. “How many times have you done this before?” she asks in a quiet voice, but still smiling. “Once,” I tell her. “And it went well,” I answer honestly. “Well that’s good,” she says, looking down at our hands and then back at me. “What do you like to do for fun?” I ask her, realizing this could be the opportunity for small talk we’ve missed out on before. “I like to spend time with my friends, go to movies, go to the cafe down the road. You?” she asks and I can see her relax in her seat. “Read,” I say and she laughs. “I also like to go see films, or try new coffee shops. I mostly read though. Sometimes I‘ll study,” I answer. We talk like this for the next hour. Occasionally Hotch will instruct us to do something different so things look more natural, like touch her knee, or have her touch my shoulder. But he tells us that our conversation looks true of that two people in a relationship and I can’t help but swell at his comment. I learn more about her in that hour than I’ve learned about her in he last six months. We’re so deep in conversation that when Morgan interrupts us, I can’t pick up on his demeanor and I’m confused. “We need to leave,” he tells us. “Why?” y/n asks for the both of us. “There’s been another abduction at the club down the road. He’s not here,” Morgan tells us. Y/n takes her hand from mine, grabs her purse, and follows Morgan out of the club, leaving me feeling a little emptier than I just had.

We end up finding the unsub with the woman he abducted, but that’s not what I’m thinking about on the jet ride home. I can’t stop thinking about how easy it was with y/n. It had always been easy talking myself out of asking her on a date, but now I know my reasoning before wasn’t true. We had plenty to talk about, my boney hands weren’t off putting, I was able to make her laugh, she didn’t react in any negative way with my physical touch, and she even seemed to have enjoyed the nerdier part of the conversation. The problem was there was no way of knowing how she felt. That night could have all been an act: it’s technically what we were supposed to have done. Except for me, I didn’t need to act. My reaction and conversation felt normal. When we reach the BAU, I find myself walking towards Penelope’s office. I knock twice on the door before entering. She’s on her computer, but it seems to be personal rather than for work. She closes out her tab and turns towards me. The corners of her mouth pull up in the familiar way they always do when she sees me. I feel my mouth forming a smile as well. “How is the BAU’s own certified genius doing? And the better question, why are you here and not headed home like everyone else?” I scratch the back of my neck, wondering where to start. “Ooooh, something is going on,” she smiles. She rests her head in her hands, eagerly awaiting for my answer. “I, uh, think I need help with something,” I tell her honestly. “Anything, my little dove. What is it?” she turns back to her computer and opens a new tab. “It’s not something I need you to look up,” I answer. She turns back to me, confused but still amused. “You’re friends with y/n?” I ask, my voice raising an octave. “Yes, say no more, I’m on it,” she speaks quickly. She stands up and walks past me before I can form another sentence.

I’ve tried flirting with her, but it’s been a difficult task. I wouldn’t consider myself a flirty person to begin with and add four other profiles (that I’m trying to hide my feelings from) to the equation and it becomes nearly impossible. I can say, however, that y/n and I have become friendlier. If we’re in the break room we’ll exchange a few pleasantries and sometimes she’ll even stop by my desk to get my opinion about a case file. Last Monday she stopped by to ask how my weekend was, which pleasantly caught me off guard. “I, uh, tried out this new coffee shop in Alexandria. It took two buses to get there, but it was definitely worth it.” “What made it different from any of the places around where you live?” she asked. “They’re known for using local ingredients. I had a lavender latte and it had a really balanced flavor profile.” “Flavor profile?” she smiles. “Yes. You know, if you’re free sometime, we could go together? I want to try their horchata latte next. It is supposed to use honey from this special apiary in Virginia that actually infuses flavors into the honey during the evaporation process.” “Wow, you know a lot about … everything, I guess,” she chuckles. “Yeah, I’d love to go sometime,” she adds before walking to her desk.

I over think about her comment all day. It’s not until I talk to Penelope the next day when my thoughts finally calm. “She brought you up today,” she says in a low voice in the break room. She’s opening a tea bag to put in her hot water: herbal as usual. “She, wait, what?” I ask. “Yes!” she says in an excited whisper. “She asked me if I’d like to go to this coffee shop you recommended, and I suggested that just the two of you went, and then she said, ‘oh’, and then I said ‘oh?’ and then she said she didn’t think it was like that, and then I told her ‘but what if it was, what would you think of that’ and she said she hadn’t really ever thought about it except the time you had to act like a couple during that sting, ‘and I said maybe you should, you two would be amazing together, and then she was quiet, but I could tell she was thinking about it, and then she smiled and walked away,” Penelope says in one breath. She grabs my arm, smiles, and then walks out the door.

A few days later we’re in the jet on the way to Montana to find a serial killer that stalks his victims in the woods. “All the victims seem to be on their own,” Hotch observes the file. “That’s good for you, y/n,” Morgan comments in his joking voice. “Why’s that?” Rossi chimes in, just as confused as the rest of us. “She won’t have to go through the torture of pretenting to be Reid’s boyfriend again,” Morgan jokes. “Oh,” y/n comments. “You know, it wasn’t all so bad,” she shrugs off his comment and returns her gaze to her file. “Careful now, you don’t want us to think that you liked it,” Morgan continues the joke. “Being Spencer’s girlfriend wouldn’t be all bad,” JJ joins in now. “You’d get plenty of sleep after he bored you to death with facts about dead poets and population sizes,” JJ adds on to the joke. “Don’t forget facts about geography and geology,” Rossi adds in now. I feel my cheeks get hotter, but then y/n speaks up. “You know, we had plenty to talk about during the sting. It wasn’t all so bad,” she repeats. I notice her cheeks turn pink too, and Morgan nudges her with his elbow. “Let’s focus back up,” Hotch directs.

#spencer reid #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader #spencerreid #fluff #criminal minds fluff

[tinygreybearpaws-blog]

Smarter Than He Realized

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 Spencer has been trying to his his crush on the new girl on the team, but after a seemingly innocent interaction he’s caught by a fellow profiler.

𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader (Fluff)

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴 none!

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁 896

♡♡♡

“Y/n, how do you have the patience to do those?” Morgan asks.

We’re sitting on the jet headed back to Quantico. We all have little routines on the way home: Rossi always takes a nap (doesn’t matter the time of day), JJ makes her calls to her family, Hotch calls Jack and then finds a file to read, Blake normally plans for her next lecture, I read a book or two (depending on how long the flight is), y/n works in her Sudoku book, and Morgan interrupts everyone else’s routine (unless he’s sleeping).

I glance over towards y/n, but only for a second. In such a close proximity to profileres it’s been really difficult concealing my crush on her, but I’ve been successful for the past few months. I always time my glances at her, taking in account who is around and how much they are observing.

She normally has a new Sudoku book every two weeks, but she’s still working on the same one. I noticed the cover didn’t say ‘extreme’ like it normally does.

“Leave her alone,” Hotch protects her.

She’s been on the team for half a year now and the most I’ve ever heard her speak is when we’re working a case. No one knows anything about her that you can’t read from her file and even though it’s an unspoken rule that we don’t profile each other, we couldn’t profile her even if we wanted. And I want to, I really do.

I’ve read her file a dozen times trying to read into her background, but even on paper she’s evasive. The only thing in her file are her previous addresses, where she attended school, and her scores for the FBI entrance exams (which were way above average).

She’s beautiful, but that’s obvious, at least to me. It’s her hair that entrances me most: her hair is almost always in a braid in some way, a different series of knots day to day.

But I didn’t truly notice her until three months ago. Most of the team was out working on preparing witnesses, leaving her and I the only members of the BAU in the bullpen. I went to get some coffee and the door was opened slightly so I could hear the conversation: one of the FBI clerical workers was speaking to her.

I didn’t recognize her voice as her own at first because she was angry.

“You don’t even know him,” was the first line of the tense conversation I heard.

“I’m just saying, how does anyone take him seriously? He wears sweater vests, for god’s sake. He looks like a thirty year old virgin!” the male worker had said. My stomach dropped realizing he was gossiping about me. But the sinking feeling was soon replaced with y/n’s next response.

“Spencer has the greatest mind in the FBI and we’re lucky to have him on our team. Plus, I think his sweater vests suit him, he fills them out just fine.”

“I wasn’t trying to make you mad, it was just a comment,” the man retreats.

“Spencer would take a bullet for anyone on our team, probably for anyone in this whole building, including you. So I suggest you keep your comments to yourself,” she ends the conversation before opening the door fully and turning around.

She made eye contact with me, realizing I had to have heard at least part of the conversation. I nodded and she nodded too. She handed me the coffee in her hands and touched my shoulder before finding her desk.

The case we just finished was a tough one emotionally, but we were able to catch the sexual sadist. During however, I had to explain the names and purpose of too many sexual abuse objects. I’ve never seen y/n so uncomfortable.

Hotch was right in telling Morgan to leave her alone, she needed time to process.

“Hey Reid,” she says quietly, breaking the silence.

“Yeah,” I say, my voice cracking. I thought I would grow out of these voice breaks, but it seems to be a part of who I am now.

“Can you help me with a few of these?” she asks, holding up her book.

I nod and cross the aisle so I’m sitting beside her. She smells like sugared cranberries.

“I only want one number for each of these five puzzles. I’ve been trying to get these for way too long and they don’t have an answer sheet in the back,” she tells me.

She’s never spoken a complete sentence to me outside of a case.

I glance at the first one and find myself stumped too. Frustrated, I grab the book from her hands and look closer.

“Oh,” she realizes. She grabs the book from my hands, and I can feel how soft they are in the short exchange. “There’s an error in the print,” she mumbles. 

She scribbles out the printed numbers and rewrites them in the box to their right.

This is what she adds to the team and why my crush on her grows each day: she’s intelligent and sees things we don’t realize we could look for.

I smile to myself for a split second after our reaction. When I look up I make direct eye contact with Morgan. He smirks, seeing what I have been trying to hide since I meet y/n: a crush.

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