One shots/ Imagines of resident genius and pretty boy, Spencer Reid. Aimed at a female reader.
-mainly fluff
-language
-smut
-multiple parts at times
-mature
Enjoy! And I will be taking requests if anyone has any!
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you have a job at a bookstore and feel yourself drifting towards the young doctor that comes in.
Fluff
977 words
"Here you are, Ma'am." A soft, closed mouthed smile played on your lips and she thanked you, taking one of your favourite books home with her, it was Little Women, by Louisa May Alcott.
Still smiling, you stepped away from the oak counter, hearing the door open, followed by a jingle and a chime of the bell, letting you know someone had come in.
Out of instinct, your head turned to see who had entered.
A man. With pale, smooth skin, eyes hazel and doe like with thick, unruly, mouse brown locks which clearly had a mind of their own.
He wore a dark violet shirt, a wisteria tie and a chocolate, knitted sweater vest.
But his appearance was not what drew your eyes to him, despite how beautiful he was. It was the pile of books he held in his arms, of various sizes and colours but there had to be at least 11 there.
You noticed how his eyebrows were snapped together, as he tried with all he could to not drop the items he held.
Yet his face remained calm, as if he felt at peace here.
You felt yourself admiring the handsome stranger, your lips upturning slightly, watching him grasp the many, many books as tight as he could.
And you moved towards him, figuring he needed help and so you offered him a hand.
"Hey, I could help with those if you'd like?"
"Uh, yea- yeah. Please. I'd really appreciate it." He responded, a slight stutter peaking through his words and you felt your face heat up, your skin turning rosy and warm.
He gently placed, around 7 of the books into your arms, hardcover and case bound stacked 1 by 1.
Yet, the man still held more than you, fairly obviously. The 2 of you walked over to the counter, the store fairly empty so you hadn't needed to watch it.
Setting down the, actually, 16 books on top of said counter the man, the quite beautiful, man spoke, his voice sounded silvery and amicable?
"Thank you. For helping me. Oh, I'm Spencer. Spencer Reid."
"It's no problem, really. I'm Y/n Y/l/n."
His pink lips showed a subtle smile, he looked at you, through long eyelashes and you couldn't shake the feeling of familiarity. It was as if you'd met before but you couldn't place where.
"Have we met before?" You asked, "Sorry, I just have a feeling we have."
"No, I don't think so. If we have met I would definitely remember. I have an eidetic memory." Spencer breathed out, smiling nervously. He was definitely attractive.
"I wish I had that, sorry you just seem so familiar."
"It's okay, it's not as good as it's made out to be." He sighed, his eyes turning off of you and reaching the ground, landing on the top of his worn out converse.
"I think I'd take remembering everything for tomorrow."
"What's happening tomorrow?" He looked up, gazing over your face once again.
"Sociology masters. I just need to pass it and I'm finished with college, finally."
"That's cool, I could help you with it if you're struggling but I doubt you are if you can make it to your masters. How old are you?"
"Oh I'm 23, you?"
"I'm 26. What is it you want to do?" He looked genuinely interested, his eyebrow slightly raising and a wondering look in his eye.
"I want to do like profiling, you know? I want to help people but also understand why the criminal did it."
You let your eyes meet and you noticed his smile grow wider
"I'm a profiler, look." He reached into his pocket, and pulled out a badge. FBI. "And, I think you'd actually be great. Look at me, profile me."
"What?"
"Profile me, I'll tell you if you're right and you can show me what you can do."
"Okay." You took a breath, "Well, your eyes drifted to your shoes and you got nervous when you mentioned having an eidetic memory which probably means you have trouble sleeping at night, as you remember everything so there may be no way to get around it and it'll always be in your mind which makes you afraid. And your team mates make you feel like a child, that's why you haven't told them about your headaches, I figured you have headaches with struggling with the memories, and you feel like they always baby you but in reality they view you as a necessity and a vital part of the group."
Spencer's teeth showed in a wide grin, the perfect white. He looked as if he would crush you in a hug right now. Maybe that wouldn't be so bad.
"100% you can do this job." His smile stretched all over his face, excitement washing over him fully "I hope you do well on your exams, then maybe we can work together. But I have to go now, to work actually. Could I, maybe, get your number?"
"Yes." You answered almost immediately "sorry, yeah, you can."
A laugh escaped his mouth, deep and kinda adorable.
"Thank you. Bye." Spencer began to turn around but he stopped in his tracks, suddenly. And turned back around to face you, "you have a very pretty smile, by the way. Bye Y/n"
"Bye Spencer."
You waited until the door shut, and you let out a tiny squeal that your mind has been doing since you first saw the man walk in, his hands full now he walked out with only one thing. Your number.
Geraldine Inoa once said "I asked the stars; why did it flicker so beautifully? and they replied, it is because of the way the moon makes us feel."
