Saidinpassing - A.

southern hospitality, s. reid !

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in which spencer's a show cowboy, you're a southern belle, and you cross paths at a rodeo.

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trope: cowboy!reid x southern belle!reader

warnings: a little bit flirty, fem!reader, reader has a brother, reid talks rodeo stats, adorbs, sorta valley gal, southern accents, flirty reader, and the ridiculously stupid, adorable photo of mgg in a cowboy outfit that i put up.

wc: 1.445k

summary: you're a southie, he's...just sort of unusual, but admittedly damn good at calf roping. you cross paths at a rodeo; immediately charmed, spencer attempts to get your number in between his stumbling over words.

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"You comin'?" Your brother, Rhys, raises a brow as he catches you ogling the corn dog cart. "Come on, you always do that." He huffs, practically yanking your arm out of it's socket to drag you along. It's sunny in Austin, the clouds cleared from the sky as the heat sears your skin. Damn, shoulda worn sunscreen. It's obvious that everyone at the rodeo is cooking like a chicken in an oven, people stripping down to their tanks to try outrun the scorching feeling. The gravel rolls under your boots as you walk down the driveway to the rodeo, walking under the arch and through the carpark. Music is playing from some buskers standing on the grass. To your left is the bronc riding, to the right is the mini farm for the kids. You spot the cattle roping competition first. Rhys notices your interest and groans, his expression fed up. "Every time we come here. Every single time." You ignore his incessant complaining, wandering through to the hay seats and plopping yourself down close to the gate. Cattle roping is relatively tame. It's difficult as hell, sure, but it's not likely you'll be gettin' bucked off a bull's back anytime soon. You unwrap a lollipop that's been sitting around in your pocket and pop it in your mouth. First cowboy comes out strong, good stance on his horse and an easy leeway around the barrels as the cattle's hooves flutter around. You cross your legs, the edge of your boot tapping the hay in a subconscious, focused beat. You spot it first. The cowboy, that is. His footing slips out of his stirrup, putting his horse off and causing a minor chain reaction which leads to him losing the round. Bummer. You think to yourself, disinterested. It goes through the same inadvertent cycle, more riders coming through, losing their cattle or not even being able to tie a hooey around the legs of the calf properly. You're just starting to become bored when finally, the last roper comes out. And oh, God, is that a tall glass of iced tea. Really, really good iced tea. The sort with damn good genetics. You choke on your lollipop and spit it out. In short, your jaw slackens and you almost forget to analyse the performance of this one because he's just so gorgeous. You have to remind yourself that while yes, there are going to be attractive ropers here, you need to focus on your main objective. Observation. You sigh, sharpening your mind again so you can see his technique, not his pretty brown eyes. His stirrups aren't too long, like the first rider. Everything saddle-wise and horse wise seems fine. His technique is a little off, you can tell he's nervous. The calf speeds around the end barrel and he flicks his wrist, throwing the lariat over it's neck, careful with not tugging his lasso too hard so as not to harm the calf. When it seems like all is looking good, he dismounts his horse and runs over to the calf, kneeling down and tying the knot around three of it's legs like it's muscle memory to him. The judges look impressed. Heck, you look impressed. Once his round is over, you peek around the bounds to see where he's headed, and it looks like it's back to the stables, for the pretty cowboy. You didn't even notice your brother had disappeared until he returns, holding a beer. Rhys spots the expression on your face and almost immediately, he looks unimpressed. "Please don't tell me you're about to go wanderin'." "I'm going wanderin'." You parrot back, just to be annoying as you stand and haul yourself over the gate to follow the handsome cowboy. Eventually, you spot him up ahead, brushing his horse down; probably for the next round. It's then that it hits you. You have no idea what to say to him. Introduce yourself? Flirt? Tell him you think he's cute? None of those? All of the above? Too many questions. You huff, a subconscious noise, and it seems to draw his attention away from the chestnut mare. The cowboy jumps, his shoulders jolting when he spots you just standing there. "Uhm—hello?"

His voice is nice too, you file that away in your head for later. American accent, just the smallest Southern bite to it but it's clear he isn't from around here. You stand in silence for a few more moments before you realise you're being creepy and clear your throat. "Ah, sorry." Sheepish tone. This first impression may not end well. It's progressively getting a little less awkward as you both introduce yourselves, the only thing informing him that you're not a creep being the smile on your face and the fact that you don't seem to have multiple firearms strapped to your jeans. But come on, it's Texas. If anything, it's shocking you don't. You learn his name is Spencer, Spencer Reid, and he's from Vegas (sin city itself, you've thought about going there a few times). Must be good at cards, you assume. Currently, you're watching Spencer groom his horse with a relaxed expression on your features, your back leaned against the opposite horse stall. "So, you do rodeo a lot?" "Not frequently. It helps make good money, though." He brushes his hands on his jeans, tapping the heel of his boot down on the bottom of the stable floor to get a piece of gravel out. "That makes sense." You yawn, tapping your fingers against the railing gently. The horse, whose name appears to be Frida, seems to enjoy the adept attention she's receiving from Spencer. Honestly? You don't blame her. He checks the mare's hooves, still talking to you. "Do you rodeo here?" "Oh, no, I just come to watch when it's on. My brother drags me along. He's not a fan of the cattle roping, he's very into bronc bucking." "A hardcore guy." Spencer jokes, letting the hind leg go as he wrings out a cloth with his hands. Nice hands. Nice voice, nice face. Awkward rodeo nerd from Vegas. It's perfect. Unrealistically so. There's a little silence as he opens the stall door, exiting and going to wash his hands. Then there's another silence when he comes back, and you both stand idle for a short period of time before he blurts out, "Bull riding is actually more dangerous than bronc, it accounts for 19.4% to 58.4% of all rodeo injuries." You blink, processing that sentence for a moment. It was so out of pocket, but if that's to be expected when talking with him, then you really don't mind all that much. You could probably listen to him all day. "Huh." He looks sheepish now, embarrassed he'd infodumped within 15 minutes flat of meeting you. It's not that bad in your eyes, but for him, he looks as if he just watched his entire family collectively decide to execute him. He backtracks. "I meant—" You cut him off, shaking your head to reassure him. "Don't worry about it. I appreciate your factual insight." Your eyes look him over as you speak, making little mental Post-It notes in your brain about him. He's thin, lanky; doesn't seem like a rodeo cowboy at first glance, but he's got good dexterity. That probably contributes to the lasso talent. And the nice hands. He's a nerd. You like that. Spencer glances at you as if silently asking 'really?' Like a puppy asking for approval. God, if you talk to him any more you fear you might evaporate. You nod, a smile crossing your face as you pop on your 'flirting' cap. Metaphorical cap. Not an actual cap that says 'flirting' on it. That'd be weird. "So, cowboy, will I be seeing you around these parts often?" You lean over one side of his horse stall, careful not to move too fast. You'd hate it if you spooked his horse.

He doesn't seem to catch on to your tone, an adorably clueless face with big brown eyes that flicker up to yours. "I, uh, I'm not sure. Maybe every few months." Even if he didn't understand the social cue, his currently pink-hued cheeks are just oh so very tempting. A little disappointment rings through you at that. You'd like to see him more often than that. "Months?" You try not to be petulant. It's hard. He catches on to that tone, a breathless laugh leaving his lips. "I can come a little more often, if you'd like to, um, stay and watch." Your disappointment is replaced with pleasure at your bargaining skills (you don't have any, he's just taken a nervous, new liking to your face. And your attitude. And your jeans). "I'd like that." He smiles back at you, albeit a little hesitantly. There's silence again and you're just about to come up with a good pickup line, before he blurts out, "You look really—uh, I mean, not in a creepy way—good. Not good like in an objectifying way. Just... presentable. No. Um. I'm going to stop talking." It's like he grabbed a needle and shot endorphins directly into your head. It's like watching a small animal walk for the first time. Nope, that's a weird analogy. Absofuckinglutely the cutest shit you've ever seen. You tilt your head. "Are you flirtin' with me, cowboy?" He splutters, his pretty face making a 'deer in headlights' expression. "I—yes?" His fingers curl over one another, fidgety and restless, so he goes back to brushing his horse. "Not very well though, I don't think." The wind gusts through the stables as you sit down on one of the wood stools. "I think you're doing okay. In a presentable fashion, of course." You tease. "Right." His face flushes again. "I'm just not used to...compliments. Or complimenting people." "Well, maybe you could practice on me." You grin. You can tell he's slowly getting a little more confident with himself. Spencer rubs the back of his neck, letting his scrupulous brushing cease as he looks back at you. "I wouldn't mind that." Score! One point granted to the flirt. "Okay, hit me." You offer, resting your chin on your forearm as you watch him. He blinks. "Hit—oh, right. Um. You have a really nice smile. It's symmetrical. Like, mathematically pleasing." You dramatically suck in a breath, even though behind your hair the tips of your ears are a little hot from the compliment. "I'll take it, but we could probably do a bit better." Spencer huffs, looking playfully frustrated as he raises a brow at you. "I read that dilated pupils are a sign of attraction, and yours...well, actually they might just be that way because of the lighting. Or you need an eye exam." "Are you flirting with me or diagnosing me?" "....both?" "It's working." You offer, nodding like a pleased judge. He laughs again. "Thanks, I guess?" You talk with him for a while, flirting back and forth but also just sharing stuff about yourselves for background context. It's getting late outside, and you didn't seem to pay attention to the hue of the sky until Rhys comes in, his expression only mildly angry. "You've been gone for three hours—who is this?" He spots Spencer, frowning. Spencer just raises a hand in a nervous wave. "Sorry for keeping her. We were talking and um, lost track of time." "That's real cute and all, Sparky, but my sister needs to come home now." He scoffs, grabbing your arm. You give Spencer an apologetic expression, saying bye and walking beside your brother as he walks you home. Of course, you're thinking about the cowboy all night. You're also thinking about the fact you didn't get his number. Oh well. There's always the next rodeo.

-ˋˏ ༻℧༺ ˎˊ- a/n: this was not proofread. cowboy reid supremacy

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Taking anti-depressant pills?? Seeing a therapist??? Journaling???? No need babe, my fav writer just dropped another x reader fic.

god I love jemily

i can't find my fucking eyemask I need that thing to sleep it's a part of my carefully structured sleep routine and yes I have spare ones but that one is my favourite

why won't jj and em kiss already

ugh

*Carefully cracks the lid on the jar of ao3 authors, throws some glow sticks in as an offering before asking questions* hey so how many of you were suddenly hit with the urge to write a fanfic the second ao3 went down, or is that just me?

They're so foul for this

out of my sight! thou dost infect my eyes

guys omg

remember that scene in one of the later seasons where JJ asks Reid what he'd be if he wasn't an FBI agent? .......cowboy reid. don't worry it's officially on my list