entirely right (professorreidxreader)

𝐨𝐧𝐞

"Shit," the seemingly insignificant word tumbled out of your mouth, it was simple, one syllable, yet your little brother notices. He notices everything. "You swear too much," he prods as he spoons cheerios into his mouth. You roll your eyes, reminding yourself why you don't visit your parent's house often.

"Sorry, Evan, I dropped my bag," you kneel down to pick it up, glaring at him. He's pretty immature for a sixteen-year-old. You sigh, staring at him as he giggles to himself, his wavy hair bouncing against his shoulders. There's a fifteen-year age gap between you and Evan, your mother had you when she was 27, only realizing at the ripe age of 41 that she wanted another kid. Luckily your parents were able to have Evan, as much as he annoyed you, you loved him more than anything.

"Good morning Star," your father came into the kitchen calling you by your childhood nickname "good morning Ev," he tussled Evans's hair and graciously excepted the coffee you had made him earlier "excited for your first day as a paid intern at Yale?" He put a weird emphasis on the last word as if you hadn't grown up with him teaching there your whole life. He was devastated when you went to NYU instead.

"Yes, actually," you say simply "I've visited you there a thousand times," you sip your coffee and press a kiss to Evans's head "but I don't want to be late, I'm not sure what professor I'll be interning and I want to get there early to find out." Your father nods, kissing your mother on the cheek as you leave.

"Good luck, Y/N, I know you'll be an excellent intern," your mother smiles and wraps you in a large hug "stay the night again soon, okay? I miss having you around, you keep Evan in check," you hear a muffled groan from the kitchen and you all laugh.

"Of course, mom," you lie through your teeth, pushing open the front door heading to your car. Your apartment is only about twenty minutes further away from campus but you figured you should see your father again before you had to spend every workday in the same building as him. "Follow me there, okay? I'll get you into the faculty parking." He winks as he climbs into his car, backing out so you can leave.

The drive is only fifteen minutes from your parent's house but the first-day nerve-wracking panic that strained your thoughts seemed to be elongating time. You turn the radio up in hopes of drowning out your anxiety but the persistent thoughts don't seem to leave.

--

Your father managed to drag you to every building on campus before it was time to meet with the director. You knew he worked in the history department, hence why you decided to study psychology and anatomy, trying to stray as far from your father's path without having to take too many math classes, you really hated math.

You walked across campus next to your father, he was relatively short, 5'5-5'6, you could almost match his steps across the gravel path through the blushing courtyard.

"This is Director Margret Collins," your father beams proudly at you as you shake the director's hand. "I've heard good things about you Ms.Y/L/N, I was skeptical about hiring you considering your father is part of our staff and has been for nearly thirty-five years but after reviewing your records I decided you were too good to pass up. I was going to have you intern with one of our well-credited Psychology professors but we recently gained a new staff member, he's closer to your age and is teaching a class on criminal psychology here while on sabbatical from the FBI, now I know that's not your specialty but I figured it would be more interesting for you." You grin, you had always been a true crime nerd growing up, it was even one of the things that pushed you to study psychology.

"He's teaching in the science building, the first classroom to the right, number 73." You nod and turn to your dad, giving him a hug before thanking them both. The science building is directly next door to Director Collins office. You arrive at the double doors of, you glance at the plaque on the wall, Dr. Spencer Reid's classroom.

"Hello?" You push open the door, observing the room. It's rather small but you suppose it has to do with the fact he's only here for his sabbatical. Suddenly you are greeted by a lanky figure in the doorway, he has brown hair that falls to the top of his neck in soft curls, his eyes a bright hazel eyes meet yours and you find yourself staring at his aggressively sharp jawline.

"Are you a student or the intern?" He says nervously twisting his hands.

"The latter," you smile extending a hand. His eyes flit nervously up your figure, landing on your hands.

"Oh I- uh- I don't really do handshakes. The number of pathogens passed during a handshake is staggering, it's actually safer to kiss-" realizing what he said he brings his hand to the back of his neck "not that we should kiss- it's just uh-" you chuckle, smiling at his awkward stance.

"No, I understand, that makes sense," you turn, he's noticeably taller than you "I'm Y/F/N."

"Reid- uh- Doctor Spencer Reid- or professor? I'm still not sure of the title, I've only been teaching for a week," he pauses, running his tongue over his lower lip. There was something about him, his posture, his tone of voice maybe even just the way he awkwardly tried to explain himself that eased the tension within you.

It wasn't long before students begin to
file into the room, taking their seats. You watch as Doctor Reid observes them, watching which ones sit in the back and which ones confidently take first row, mentally noting any changes he sees.

Teaching was easier than you had thought, Doctor Reid assigned you small tasks for the first day, taking questions, handing things out. By the end you were pretty confident in your roll, he even let you answer a scattering of questions.

As you collect the spare papers littered around the desks you feel a presence behind you, "Doctor Reid," you say turning to face him "how can I help you?" He smiles, shoving his hands in the pockets of his faded black dress pants.

"How was your first class?" He leans forwards slightly as he speaks "you seemed so relaxed around the students, I was honestly impressed." You throw your head back as you chuckle.

"I'm quite the people person, Professor," you hand him the spare stack and make your way to his desk where your bag and coat lay. "Call me, Spencer, please, no need to be formal, besides I have a feeling we'll be friends."

"Well then, Spencer, what about lunch?" You gesture towards the clock above the rolling white board that reads 12:33. He grins, anxiously running a hand through his hair. "Lunch sounds great, Y/N, or do you prefer Ms.Y/L/N?"

"If I can call you Spencer, you can call me Y/N," you pause, staring at the tall lanky man in front of you, he didn't seem to he particularly strong despite the fact that he was in the FBI "besides, we're going to be friends, right?" He nods, the purest of smiles spreading across his face.

You gather your belongings and leave the room. Your inclination to be welcoming to everyone gets you in trouble sometimes, but on occasion it lands you with the best of people.