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#Spencer đŸ€
bsxcrxts · 5 months
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Praise + Size kink with Spencer Reid
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Content warnings: 18+ only! absolutely no minors!! Put your age in your bio to interact with my work. PLEASE NOTE the size kink in question here is atypical in that Spencer has a small dick and reader is seriously into it! Reader praises Spencer a lot, brief discussion of previous rejection, handjobs, "darling" as a pet name directed at Spencer, no gendered language towards reader
A/N: this is a little over 1k! Sorry if it's not everyone's cup of tea I just feel this is true of Spencer in my heart <3
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“Listen, u-um. Before we do this I just— I just want to say that if– if– I mean, we don't have to rush into anything," Spencer stuttered, his hand coming to cover your own that rested precariously on his thigh, stopping you from reaching any higher.
"Oh," you pause, pulling back from the kiss the two of you had been sharing, believing you'd misread his signals, "oh, right, of course! Um, do you... not want to?"
Spencer deflects every time the two of you even remotely approach something sexual, and you've been together for months. It's not a problem, you just wish he'd trust you enough to tell you why; his eyes never fully meet yours when you talk about it.
He hasn't answered you.
"It's okay if you're not ready–"
"That's not exactly the issue," he cuts you off.
You're afraid to say the wrong thing and scare him off now that you're finally getting somewhere, so you settle for a considerate okay and just look back at him patiently.
"Previous partners have expressed displeasure with aspects of my body," Spencer rushes out, like it's going to burn him as he says it.
You're struck silent for a half of a second, searching for words.
"That's– Spencer, I don't know who told you that, but I'm sorry they did. That's an awful thing to tell somebody. And you're a very attractive guy," you say as you squeeze his hand reassuringly. Incapable of not cracking a joke to try and lighten the mood, you continue, "I'm not just saying that because I'm dating you, either."
Spencer looks unconvinced. "I don't know," he continues, "The statistics don't lie."
At this point, you're honestly baffled. "What statistics?"
"Approximately forty percent of women think– think size matters," Spencer spits out quickly.
Oh.
Well, you're really, really into Spencer. Right this moment, without ever even seeing his cock, you think it doesn't matter at all.
You shift closer to him on the sofa.
"Spencer, do you want to take things further?"
He looks confused, like he can't understand the question, so you elaborate.
"I like you, and I want you... if you want me too."
He nods, silently. Time slows. You'd been holding your breath.
"Words, Spencer, please," you're so close to him your lips nearly brush.
"Yes," he replies, hushed, "yes, please."
"Good," you affirm against his mouth and you kiss him again. He doesn't stop you this time when your hand brushes along the inside of his thigh and up to the seam of his pants, blindly feeling. His bulge is smaller, it's true, but you can still feel him in your hand, his hardness firm against your palm. It's driving you crazy, Spencer's shyness, his body, his inexperience as he tentatively pulls your hips closer, everything about him.
"I wanna see you," you practically whine, feeling near frantic.
Spencer fumbles with his pants for a moment before shoving his underwear off too, leaning back and nervously fiddling with his hands.
You feel like someone has literally stolen the breath out of your lungs. He's cute. It's the best word for his cock, probably no bigger than four and a half inches, straight and flushed deeply at the head, a bead of pre-cum already forming along his tip. You subconsciously bite your lip, taking in the view of Spencer lying halfway back on your couch, hard and leaking for you.
"God, Spencer, you're– you're so cute," you stutter.
Spencer's face flushes red and he sputters a bit and looks away, but he's obviously turned on. His little cock kicks in your hand, and you have to say it again.
"Your cock is so cute," you tell him, and he gives you a little mphh sound, shifting where he sits. You haven't even touched him and you can tell he's worked up. "You like when I say things like that?"
Spencer nods, quietly affirming your question, wide-eyed.
"Like hearing about how much I like your cock, hmm? Your body looks like art darling, like those old statues," you keep praising him.
Spencer has something to say about this.
"Actually, Greek sculptures usually depict men with smaller– unh!" he moans, interrupted suddenly by your hand on his cock, stroking him slowly. "U-uh, um," he starts over, "In Ancient Greece, a smaller phallus was an i-indication of intelligence and reason," he manages to continue.
How fitting.
"Oh, I see," you practically purr against him, jumping at the chance to compliment him further, "They'd be very impressed with you, darling. So smart and perfectly endowed to show it."
His cock twitches, his eyes practically rolling back in his head.
"You're the smartest man I know," you say, not exaggerating. Spencer's basically a panting mess beside you. "And your cock is the prettiest I've ever seen. Anyone would be stupid to turn you down, you're adorable," you keep talking, hand on his cock moving more rapidly now as Spencer quickly loses composure.
"D-don't stop," he begs, and the sound of his small cock wetly slipping in and out of your fist is lewd, debauched.
"I won't stop. Don't worry, Doctor Reid," you hum sweetly, and Spencer's hips thrust brazenly against your hand at the mention of his title. You feel yourself making a mess of your own underwear but are too enamored with him to even think about touching yourself, "are you going to cum? Will you let me see your gorgeous little cock make a mess f' me?"
"Y-yes, 'm, I'm c-close," he moans.
"So smart and good and pretty for me," you praise. Leaning in, you whisper against his ear, "Next time, I want you in my mouth."
It's all he needs. Spencer's gone, his hips wildly bucking and his cock spurting a surprising amount of cum onto your hand and his lower stomach, his mouth open in a gasp.
When he's recovered, he kisses you once heatedly before he gives you a tiny peck on the cheek, almost shy.
"Did you mean it?" he mumbles, hesitant.
"Darling, yes, of course," you answer. "Spencer, you're beautiful. All of you. I really like you."
He smiles sheepishly. "I really like you too," he says, "and now, if I'm not mistaken, I owe you an orgasm."
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A/N: I based this whole thing around the fact that small dicks in Ancient Greece represented intelligence tbh. Hope you enjoyed!
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ebullientheart · 10 months
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sleep mad. spencer reid x reader
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content — hurt comfort. bau!reader. mention of bau case. short fic.
you don’t let spencer leave your hotel room after a fight.
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it was a perfectly normal reaction, to storm out for fresh air after a tense argument. spencer didn’t expect you to literally scream ‘no!’ from behind him. he turned on his heel so fast, recognising the fear in your voice from case victims, preparing himself to see you being attacked. he wasn’t prepared for the onslaught of tears, and no criminal presence.
when the two of you disagreed, it was almost always with quiet voices and levelled frustration. this time was no different. neither of you had yelled, cursed, or become enraged. it was irritation and exhaustion at the root of it, and it wasn’t worth the look on your face now. his own eyes shot wide in concern, spencer saw how you visibly trembled in the doorway, despite the evening being uncharacteristically warm, humid even. in the dingy light from the hotel hallway, he could hardly make out the contours of your face, but he could imagine what it must have looked like. why had you shouted?
you swiped messily at the damp rivets dug into your cheeks from the sudden fit of crying, effectively willing yourself to stop as you folded your arms defensively. your voice was wavering but firm as you said, “no. if you want space, i’ll go sit on the fire escape, but you can’t
 you can’t leave this late spence.”
he raised a brow at you. usually, he disliked being told what to do, but that clearly wasn’t your intention here. spencer could clearly see the terror on your face, but he couldn’t decipher what you were so afraid of. so, forgetting the rule to not profile each other, he asked. you reached forward and tugged him into the room by his forearm, ever gentle, before spinning away to leave him be. but he didn’t want space anymore, he wanted answers.
“what’s going on?”
knowing you could never successfully lie to spencer, you sighed and dug your hands into your pockets. you felt guilty for not allowing him what he’d needed to cool off, but you couldn’t let him leave like that while working this case. each of the three victims left behind a brokenhearted spouse, each of which you’d been interviewing since eight that morning. the last was the worst, breaking down fully in jj’s arms, wracked with uncontrollable sobbing as they explained the last interaction they’d shared was a verbally vicious fight. their last words were venomous, and no peace was made.
“tell me.” spencer’s demand was soft. he sat on the edge of the hotel bed, and your heart twisted as the new angle enunciated the dark circles stamped beneath his eyes. you were sure you sported a matching pair.
you tried your best not to shut down, to communicate, “we
 we see so many grievers. how many tell us that their last conversations were full of anger? they
 can’t ever accept what happened, move on, because they never go to say ‘i love you’ that last time. they think the other died hating them. if we’re apart, and something happens, and our last words were just mean
”
he listened as you struggled through your explanation, but when you finally trailed off and dropped eye contact, he stood slowly. you heard him pad across the cheap carpet to get close enough to find the palm of your hand, and you let him take it in his own. a light rain had begun to batter the small window.
“you’re right,” spencer whispered, something you rarely hear when dating a genius, “you’re right. our lives are dangerous. but i don’t want us to fight anyway. i’m sorry.”
you sniffed and tried to not think about how pathetic you sounded when you repeated his final sentence back to him, equally as sincere.
spencer thumbed lightly at the dip between your eye and cheekbone, “i love you. now, and when we fight. i- i always love you.”
again, you echoed his sentiment, accompanying it with the sweetest kiss you could press to his jaw. your fingers curled into his hair, carefully undoing a tangle, and simultaneously undoing every knot of tense muscle in his body.
most couples just worried about going to sleep mad. you weren’t sure what it said that your worries centred around one of you being brutally murdered before making up, but you supposed that unique thought process just came with the territory. there was no blanket pulled over your eyes, the world wasn’t hiding it’s most sinister corners from you. or if it was, you sought them out. but those fears that usually haunted you just melted away when you held spencer. you were just like most couples.
two young adults, completely in love, swaying back and forth to the rhythm of your breaths in a crappy hotel, blissfully ignorant to the residents of the rooms either side of you grumbling about being awoken by your hallway confrontation.
a mess of entwined limbs, you eventually made it to bed, to sleep. one of you, or maybe both, uttered an “i love you” every few minutes. an enforced reminder to linger in your half-asleep state, lulling your minds to rest.
sleep came easy, for once.
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mggsv · 10 months
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Matthew’s little tongue bite thing he does when he smiles is so adorable i can’t not talk about it
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inkdrinkerworld · 8 months
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AAHHHH wait no okay go w me on this bc Spence is used to spewing out any and every fact he knows with his cute lil tangents and imagine reader does that too just like verbal vomit all over the place but he loves it bc it makes him feel more normal and he likes listening to readers voice what are your thoughts
omg omg yes!! i feel like spencer isn’t used to someone else rambling off too and when you start doing it he just looks at you with the softest smile and the most interested look on his face! he doesn’t say anything till you stop and look a little embarrassed. “that’s really cool! do you know anything else?” maybe it’s a topic that isn’t that well researched by spencer so you have the perfect opportunity to talk his ear off and you both live for it
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bluy1206 · 1 year
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ttte ships favoritos? 👀
Gordon x Henry
Thomas x percy
Edward x james
Hiro x spencer
Toby x henrietta
Oliver x Douglas
Duck x donald
flying Scotsman x spencer*inserta mĂșsica norteña*
Nah no es cierto el Ășltimo ship,pero los demĂĄs son mi favoritos porque luego se nota que tienen quĂ­mica y aveces se sonrojan cĂłmo henry
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Akhela x nadie xd
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scuttling · 2 years
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Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to your favorite writers. Let’s spread the self-love 💜
Hi Anon and thank you for sending this in! đŸ€
I think my favorite fics I have written are:
Paper Rings (SFW, Hotch/Female Reader)
Happy Accidents (NSFW, Hotch/Female Reader)
I Hope You Dance (SFW, Prentiss/Female Reader)
Something Stupid (NSFW, Hotch/Female OC)
Save Me Tonight (NSFW, Reid/Female Reader)
The ones I'm working on now are some of my favorites, so I can't wait to share them soon. â˜ș Thanks again!
Also, thank you @arsonhotchner for tagging me in the same game as well :)
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thirtyratsinasuit · 1 month
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Just called out birth giver on her bullshit since she won’t get me help and cancelled my therapy appointments, proceeds to attack me for going nonverbal and say that I’m never going to be anything in life. ✌
Btw, my IQ is in the 130s and she’s set the kitchen on fire for forgetting to put water in the ramen when she puts it in the microwave- twice.
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Anyways time to watch videos of my comfort character while I crave the touch of a mother’s love.
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pinkflowerperson · 10 months
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reiderwriter · 21 days
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Hello!I hope you are having a great day!I love LOVE your writing and I would like to request a fanfiction where the reader is Hotch's daughter who works at the bau and is in a secret relationship with spencer without her dad knowing.Spencer wants to tell the team but she is scared about how they'll react so they fight but during a case she gets kidnapped and the feelings are high,so spencer accidentally reveals the relationship.I would love if it ended in smut (possibly dom!spencer who is angry at her for being so reckless and risking her life like that) and maybe a lot of angst??Hotch could potentially be fuming but when they get her back he decides that he will let them be??I would like my emoji to be đŸŒŒ!Thank you in advance and if you write this I would absolutely LOVE to read it!đŸ€đŸ€
A/N: I love writing for a Hotchner Reader because the Hotch/Spencer parallels are so 😙👌 This was so fun to write!
Warnings: Smut/ Angst with a happy ending, Semi-public sex, oral (f receiving), dirty talk, case details, kidnapping, abuse, strangulation, mentions of child death/ allusions towards pedophilia etc, Hotch is a somewhat shitty/overprotective dad/boss.
Masterlist!
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Falling back into a hotel bed that wasn't yours, you wrapped your legs around Spencer Reid as he furiously worked open the buttons of your shirt, his lips locked with yours in a furious exchange. 
“Spencer, Spencer, we can't-” You moaned as his lips fell down to your ear, a small tap to your thigh signalling that he wanted tour legs spread for him. Despite your vocal protests, you complied.
“Need to feel you,” he groaned, nipping and sucking his way down your chest as his big hands began pushing your skirt up and your panties down. 
“Spencer, someone will hear.” 
“I don't care who hears,” he whispered, finally ridding you of the last piece of material covering your wet sex. “I just want to make you feel good.”
His lips fell to your cunt, falling on your cunt as he began his ministrations. You loved this, the feeling of him near, his lips on you, his tongue teasing out whimper, then moan, then a scream of his name as you came undone on his lips. But that wasn't a chance you could take today. 
“He's in the next room, Spencer. Fuck, he's going to hear us.” 
You wouldn't push him off, enjoying too much the feeling of your building pleasure, so appealing to your boyfriend to do the right thing was your last resort as your hips bucked into his face, chasing your orgasm. 
He didn't stop, but held your hips down, thrusting his tongue in and out of you as his fingers came up to tease your clit. 
“Spencer, fuck-” you slapped a hand over your mouth as you shuddered below him, finally reaching your climax. 
Your hands fell limp as he worked you through the end of your orgasm before rising up to lay beside you on the bed. 
“I wish you wouldn't push it, Spencer. You're a dead man if he catches us like this.” 
“Hotch won't kill me just because I'm dating his daughter. I don't understand why you don't want to tell people.” 
You ran your hands through your hair in frustration. It was a conversation you'd been back and forward on a lot in the past six months. 
Dating a coworker was tricky, doubly so when your coworker’s boss - and your boss - was your overprotective father. Things only became more complicated when you factored in a ten year age gap and the fact that your father refused to view you as an adult, even when you were a fully qualified member of his own team. 
You'd had to fight for acceptance into the FBI and go above him to get the job on his team, a decision that he still berated you for to this day. But you'd had enough of him shielding you from reality, and it was a step you needed to take. 
Falling in love with Spencer Reid, though, that was just pure bad luck. 
You weren't sure how it had taken you until joining the team to meet the man, but you sure were glad he hadn't been introduced earlier. You'd joined the team at 24, having been in grad school until your FBI Academy application was approved, and somehow in the 10 years before that Spencer had worked under your father, you'd never crossed paths.
Of course, you knew who he was before that from context and conversations with your father, and of course, he figured out who you were quickly based on the many arguments you'd had in Hotch’s office. But that hadn't stopped you from repeatedly falling into his bed month after month, and then falling in love with him. 
Your relationship was more than the sex, but it was also a lot of sex. From the stories you'd heard, and from the look of him, you'd assumed that Spencer was a delicate little flower, an innocent in the bedroom as much as any 34 year old man could be. 
And then you'd both been offered spiked drinks at a holiday party courtesy of Penelope Garcia, and he'd proved you deliriously wrong. He'd been hooked from then on, and after waking up awkwardly in his bed the next morning to two cups of coffee and a spread of breakfast pastries he'd gone out to specifically pick up for you, you'd been hooked on him as well. 
The only problem was Hotch. 
You certainly weren't winning any daughter of the year awards already with the stunt you pulled to get on the BAU, but you didn't want to be completely and totally disowned just yet. 
“Hotch won't kill you for dating his daughter, you're right,” you mumbled back to Spencer rolling yourself back on top of him and pinning his arms down so his fingers couldn't tease you any further. 
“Thank you, now if you trust me, I've ran like four different scenarios in my head so-” 
“He'd definitely fire us both, though. And that's worse than death.”
“Y/N
.” 
“Tell me I'm wrong, please. Back up your findings with empirical evidence. He doesn't want me on the team, Spencer. He doesn't even want me in the FBI. I think he'd be happy enough to ship me out of the country, too, if that helped.”
Spencer sighed and tugged your hair behind your ear as he gestured for you to sit up. 
“I know it's scary. But I love you. I don't care about the consequences because I'll still love you before and after telling him.”
“And during?” 
“I might freak out a bit, but deep down, the love will be there still.”
You hit him with a pillow and climbed off the bed. 
“Okay, get out now. I'll think about it but you really can't stay here tonight.” He nodded, grabbing his things and pulling his clothes back into place. 
“So, like we're totally done for tonight? Nothing else.”
“Spencer! Out!” You whisper-shouted the words and watched him turn your door handle as slowly as possible before he waved his goodbye and left your room. 
12 hours later, you were once again getting frustrated with Spencer Reid. And Aaron Hotchner. They may soon be enemies, but goddamn they were perfect for each other in some ways. 
“Hotch, you can't just give me nothing to do. Send me to the morgue with Rossi, or let me interview family members with Tara. I'm a member of this team, too, so let me do my job.” 
“You'll do well to remember that I'm your boss, Y/N.”
“You're acting more like my dad right now. A boss would utilize his team members.” 
You'd been stuck in this stale mate since the morning, and Reid hadn't helped at all. When giving out assignments that morning, you'd not been notably left out of crime scene investigation, suspect interrogation, and anything helpful. Reid usually asked for your assistance at times like these, but he was finally putting his money where his mouth was and keeping distance from you in the office.
So far, you'd ran coffees back and forth between the kitchen and work room and had been communicating back and forth with JJ and Derek in the field and Garcia back at Quantico. 
You'd been, for lack of better comparison, relegated to receptionist. 
“At least let me work on the geographical profile with Reid-” 
“Absolutely not.” 
You stiffened at the reaction, wondering just exactly why he would react so strongly. Spencer had snuck in a few secret kisses here and there this morning, though you'd been sure that you'd had no witnesses. 
“Why not?” 
“I don't want you to distract him.”
Bile settled in the back of your throat as you tried your best to bite your tongue and keep the bitter words in. 
“You know, sometimes, Dad, it feels like you love everyone on this team more than you love me.” 
He locked eyes with you quickly, but he glance was dismissive and stern, almost as if he was asking you ‘seriously.’ 
You turned on your heels and began to walk out before he called out from behind you again. 
“Y/N,” you stopped despite yourself. 
“Leave the gun and badge on the desk. We'll discuss this after the case is closed.”
You almost laughed. You almost blurted out your relationship with Spencer just to spite him. You followed his order and took yourself out of the office for some fresh air, finally giving him what he wanted. 
An hour of aimlessly wandering down the street, and you turned into a run-down park. 16 missed calls from Spencer and other members of the team, who'd no doubt watched you turn in your badge. 
Garcia had even called a few times, and you felt guilty for not forwarding her calls somewhere else, knowing she'd probably have key case information for someone. 
But you just couldn't handle it anymore, so you switched it off, pushed it back into your pocket, and kept walking. 
It was two more blocks before the man following you pushed a soaked rag over your mouth and nose and pushed your unconscious body into the back of a waiting van. 
×××××
Two hours of near constant complaining to Hotch had gotten Spencer nowhere in his demands to know just where you went. 
He'd called you 36 times since Hotch had told him you'd left, and he hadn't stopped freaking out since. 
“But where did she go?” 
“I sent her back to the motel.” 
“All of our cars, bar the one JJ and Morgan took to the crime scene, are outside and accounted for. The motel is a 34-minute drive away. It'll take her 5 hours on foot through our unsubs hunting grounds, and I'm not sure if you've noticed, but she matches the victim profile we just gave. Where is she?” 
A muscle in Hotch's jaw twitched, but neither of them moved, eyes locked in battle to see who would back down first.
A call from Penelope ended whatever disaster was storming between them. 
“Hotch hey, I can't get in contact with mini-Hotch, so here I am. Morgan called earlier from the crime scene. From the way they're posed, he said they could be possible stand-ins for a lost child  a daughter or a sister, so I cross checked the ownership of the vehicles that run with the tires we found prints of at the scene, and I got a name. Like one.”
“Great work, Penelope, send it over.” 
Hotch dropped the call and looked back up at Spencer, readying himself to give orders and push the issue. 
Again, their standoff was interrupted. 
“Hotch,” JJ rushed in, carrying a radio dispatcher, face white, and filled with worry. “You need to hear this.”
“Witness reported an abduction on East and 7th, patrol surveyed the scene and found a cellphone. Identifying information suggests it belongs to a Y/N Hotchner. We're bringing it into the stat-” 
Hotch stood so fast his chair almost crashed to the floor. He stood so fast that he barely had time to dodge the lunge Spencer took in his direction, fist pulled back. It would connect, given the chance  he knew it would. He'd been the one to teach Spencer to throw a punch in the first place. 
Morgan insinuated himself between the two men before, and blood could be shed, quickly pulling Spencer back as Rossi, too, rushed into the room to diffuse the situation. 
“One hour. I've been asking you for one hour where she went, and you wouldn't answer me. You made her leave her gun behind.” 
It wasn't exactly a shout, but there was something broken in his voice, as of his mouth had filled with blood and he could only spit hate at a man who'd been a mentor to him until seconds before. 
“If she's hurt- fuck, if even a hair on her head is out of place, I'll-” 
“What, Spencer? What will you do? She's my daughter. What could you do that-”
“She's my girlfriend! She's my girlfriend, she's the love of my life. God, I want to marry her, I have the ring, I have the proposal planned, all that was left was telling you and then asking her, but you've been such a dick to her about this job, and about cases, and God knows what else, that she doesn't want to say anything to you, and now you've driven her away and she's fucking gone. And she could be hurt or in danger or d-de
” 
He crumpled to the floor, Morgan still holding him as his legs gave way beneath him. 
Nobody moved for what felt like hours, still in their grief, shock, some just nervous to see what would happen next. 
“You've been in this situation before, Hotch. So have I. It's 
. It hasn't ended well for us before.” 
The words were so final, so defeated that they sucked the air out of the room.
“Morgan,” Hotch started quietly, eyes still locked with Reid's, still staring down the reflection of his own despair.
“Get Garcia back on the line, I want confirmation that the vehicle that picked Y/N up is the same one that our unsub has been using to set up crime scenes. See if she can lift a name and an address. Rossi, if he's skilled enough to pick up an FBI Agent unaware, we need a SWAT team, get one on standby.”
Slowly growing in volume, he continued, as the room started moving at his signal. 
“JJ, Tara, take over where Reid left off with the geographical profile. Look at Y/N's last known location and how far a car could've gotten in the last 24 minutes.” 
He paused again, staring Reid down. 
“Reid, you're with me.” 
xxxxx
It took you a few seconds to gain a sense of your surroundings when you came to. Partially because of the drug induced migraine splitting your head, and partially because of the mess of ribbons and stuffed toys you'd woken up in. 
A change of clothes, and hands tied to what seemed to be a children's bed and you felt so grossly vulnerable your body shook with a few harsh sobs before you regained your composure and remembered your training. 
The knots on the rope holding your hands were tight. There wasn't much room to move with them pinned above your head, but you recognised them as naval knots. Your unsub had experience at sea, recreational or professional you'd yet to determine. 
Looking around again, you looked for entries and exits, wanting to know how the unsub would come in again and how you could get out. 
There were no windows, but a set of stairs leading up towards a solid door told you that you'd been locked inside a basement. A basement decorated similarly to a child's bedroom. 
Dimly lit by a mass of fairy lights, the room seemed covered head to toe in teddy bears, dolls, and children's books, a sturdy handmade doll’s house standing in the corner of the room. 
Faintly, you heard the creaking of floorboards above you before the handle of the basement door rattled and more light poured in. 
“I bought you breakfast, cupcake.” 
There was no time to feign unconsciousness again as your captor finally came into view. 
He was older than middle-aged, slightly wider around the midsection than you assumed he'd been in his youth. His hair was closely cropped and laid neatly, leading you to suspect he was former military. 
“Oh, good, you're awake. What do you want to do today, cupcake? Daddy has some time off now, I can play with you all you want.” 
You moved slowly, pushing yourself up to a seated position so you could bend your arms a bit. But you didn't look away, needing to keep him in your line of sight the entire time.
“Where am I?” You asked slowly, trying to keep your voice steady. 
“Wow, you must've had a deep sleep cupcake. You're in your bedroom, silly!”
The man's sprightly tone was disconcerting, and you could see a muscle in his forehead twitch slightly as you spoke. 
“O-of course. My mistake. Maybe I'm just still tired.”
He laid the tray on the bedside table and sat on the bed next to you. You tried your best not to shy from his touch as he stroked your hair, but every muscle in your body tensed and pulled from him reflexively. 
A quick glance to the tray and you saw the food he'd brought you was a small cup of pills and a glass of water to rinse them down with. 
If he noticed your flinch, he said nothing, grabbing a hairbrush from the nightstand and beginning to comb through your hair slowly and deliberately, taking care like one would a daughter. 
“Daddy,” you took a chance, recalling the name he'd given himself earlier. “Can we play outside today? I want to go to the park.” 
He stopped moving, and you held your breath as his smile dropped. 
“No, sweetie. You know we don't go to parks.” 
“Why not? I really want to play there, Daddy, please!”
In seconds, his hands wrapped around your throat as he pushed you back down into the bed, holding you there with his tight, suffocating grip. 
“Shut the fuck up you little slut. I said we don't go to parks, you listen. I am your father, you are not being taken by one of those sick freaks again.” 
He released you as quick as he grabbed you and stood up, pacing as he attempted to regain composure. 
“You can draw or we can have a tea party but you know we can't go out. You know that cupcake, I've told you so many times.” 
He grabbed at his hair, pulling it from its carefully styled arrangement into a mess, his fingers leaving red marks against his white skin as he pushed and pulled his head. 
He breathed deeply, and you sat up, trying to regain your composure as you watched him lose his. 
“What was her name?” You whispered, half hoping he would hear you, half praying that he'd ignore you for the sake of his fantasy. 
“W-What?” 
“Your daughter. What was her name?” 
He focused on you again, but his hands - hands that you knew could and would choke the life out of you if you did something wrong again - his hands were shaking. 
You heard the floorboards creaking upstairs and decided to push your questioning, hoping it meant what you thought it did. 
“Why are you saying it like that, ‘was?’ Is. Her name is, your name is Laura, and you're my little cupcake.” 
“What happened to her?” You filled your voice with as much sympathy and understanding as you could muster, one eye on the basement door that was being slowly pushed open. One look at Morgan at the top of the stairs had your heart rate slowing to a calmer speed. You locked eyes with him for a second, halting him, and he nodded, waiting for your signal. 
“You, you're my cupcake, you look just like
 She should look just like you.” 
The man sat on the bed again, stroking a hair out of your eye as his filled with tears. 
“Fifteen years. I looked for her for fifteen years, you know. If I hadn't taken her to that park-” 
“That must have been hard.” 
He nodded as he broke down in silent sobs. 
“They said
 they said she probably died a day or two after we lost her. When they found her, she was
” he rested his head on your shoulder, let him cling to you as he mourned his daughter. 
“We couldn't identify her, but she had that teddy with her. The teddy with the cupcake in its hands. She never went anywhere without it. So we
we knew.
You looked at Morgan as he slowly made his descent into the room, closely followed by JJ. 
The man looked up into your eyes again, wiping the tears from his face. 
“She was only 8.” He looked defeated, and your heart broke for him, even as you wished to get as far away from him as you could physically muster. 
Morgan pulled him up and away from you as he secured the man with handcuffs, but his eyes remained locked on you. 
JJ untied you and guided you out, but you felt his gaze bite into you ever after you'd left the basement. 
As soon as you were above ground, you let your body divest itself of adrenaline, your legs buckling as JJ tried to catch you. Another set of arms was quicker, though, and you didn't even register Spencer's arrival before burying your head in his chest and letting your sobs escape you. 
He guided you to your feet and walked you out to the ambulance, his arms protectively wrapped around you, his lips peppering kisses along your hairline and forehead, anywhere he could reach. In moments, you were bundled into the ambulance, and three gentle voices were trying to calm you, to pry you away from your comfort doll.
You wondered if you'd die like the unsubs daughter had, if they'd find you clinging to Spencer the way she had to her teddy bear.
“Y/N,” your father's deep voice was clear and smooth, the only thing that was cutting through the wretched moment of pain you were enduring. 
You remembered yourself again, relinquishing your grip on Spencer and wiping the tears from your face as you finally looked towards Aaron Hotchner. 
The paramedics took their chance and began checking your vitals, working around you in a hurry. 
“Dad, I'm sorry, I was walking and didn't notice that he was behind me, I should've been more careful-”
“Y/N, it’s okay. You're okay now.” 
You nodded as he came closer. You ignored the tears in his eyes, trying not to break down again. It had been an age since you'd last witnessed him cry, at another crime scene with another family member and another unsub. You couldn't think about how close you'd come to making him relive his worst nightmare. 
Spencer's hand was still firm in yours, and you held it like a lifeline, though you were sure your nails had to be cutting him by now. It took another moment to register that he was holding onto you just as hard, that he was unmoving, still where he was usually a series of compulsive moments, tapping, hand wringing, fists clenching and releasing. 
You glanced between the men, who had now become quiet as they surveyed you, and noticed the tension. Before you could say anything, though, the paramedics took over. 
“We're going to get you to the hospital now, Agent, one coworker can accompany you in the vehicle, preferably one with knowledge of your medical history.”
Both men immediately moved forward again, as if ready to jump into the van, before turning again to each other. 
“Shit,” you mumbled to yourself just as the buzzing in your head from the migraine grew louder. 
“Y/N, it's your choice. Who do you want to come?” Spencer said gently, his body still stiff with worry. 
“I'm her father. This isn't a question of who she likes better.”
“I have her medical records memorized, and I have more knowledge about the drugs the unsub gave her, but Y/N can choose for herself because she is a grown woman.”
You sighed and dropped the man's hand as the medics ushered you into the van fully, but the men were fully absorbed in their fight for dominance that they barely registered it. 
“JJ. JJ is coming with me,” You could see both of them turn back to you to argue, but you continued before they could. “Because I am a grown adult who knows her own medical history, and I don't need my father and my
 coworker having territory wars over my wellbeing.” 
And possibly because she'd be the least awkward option to answer the questions about sexual activity and possibility of pregnancy around, but you really did not need to vocalize that. 
“Right now, I'm just a victim you've saved. Go and do your jobs and meet me at the hospital later because I am not doing overtime completing paperwork while on suspension.” 
JJ climbed up into the ambulance and the doors shut, letting you finally get a few moments peace as it began slowly making its way to whatever hospital was closest. 
“He knows, right?” You asked, covering your eyes with your hands as you braved for the answer. 
“Hotch? You could say that he figured it out.” 
“That bad?” 
“Spencer threw a punch at him. He tried to at least.” 
“What?!” Your body shot up, but the paramedic gently forced you back into a laid position, giving you a warning look to stay put as she checked your blood pressure. 
“Don't be too hard on him, Y/N. He thought he was going to lose you. They both did. I don't think either of them would survive it happening again.” 
The guilt hit you right in the chest as you nodded and dropped the conversation. 
“Maybe I should've let Spencer come with me.” 
“Why?” JJ asked, not offended bit curious. 
“Because I'm not entirely sure my father won't throw that punch back at him now he knows I'm okay. It's hard being in a relationship if one of you is dead.” 
The older woman chuckled slightly, and you settled back down, letting the car movements rock you into sleep. 
xxxxx
A few hours later and some quietly bickering voices pulled you from the rest you'd so sorely needed. Without even opening your eyes, you knew they'd both subtly scrambled to your bed to make sure you were comfortable. 
“What are you talking about?” You asked, wiping your eyes carefully as you tried to sit up, arms still aching from being tied up. 
“Oh shit-” you exclaimed after seeing your boyfriends freshly split lip. 
“Dad, what the fuck?” 
“Y/N, it's fine. It doesn't hurt.” 
“Aaron Hotchner, do you have nothing to say for yourself?” You tried to put all of tour anger into the words as you said them, bit he looked at you again with his straight face, and you crumpled under the pressure. 
“I won't
I'm not going to object. I just ask you to keep your private life separate from your work.” 
“And you're going to punch my boyfriend while I'm unconscious, so I can't defend him.” 
“I'm still your father, and he deserved it.” 
You looked back over to Spencer, who was quite notably not meeting your eyes. 
“Do I want to know?” 
“I'm leaving now. Jack will be here soon. He wants to check on you now that school is over. We told him you were hurt trying to save a sick man.” 
“Thank you, dad.” 
He nodded at you and left you alone in your hospital room with Spencer. 
“Why did you deserve it?” You whisper shouted the moment you assumed he was out of earshot. 
“The doctor came in and asked about some old bruises on your upper thighs. And ass. And chest. I had to admit they weren't sustained during the kidnapping, and Hotch wasn't pleased.” 
You huffed out a sound halfway between incredulous and a strangled moan of shame as you curcled yourself up into a ball and tried your best to die. 
“Great. Wonderful.”
“If it makes you feel any better, he thought it was signs of domestic violence and not just rough...sex.” 
“Yes, Spencer, that makes me feel entirely more comfortable with the situation.” 
Registering the sarcasm in your voice, he quieted down again, settling into the chair by your bedside and grabbing your hand. 
You sat silently together for a few minutes before either of you said anything. 
“I'm sorry. I know you didn't want him to find out.” 
“Spencer, you don't have to apologise. All things considered, this is possibly the best way he could've found out.”
“My busted lip suggests otherwise, I think.” 
“And a whole lot more would've been busted if he caught us any other time. Besides, I already lost my job, so there's not much else at stake anymore.” 
The words stung you as you said them, but you did still feel the weight of your dismissal in your chest, spreading miserably through your bones. 
“Does your head still hurt?”
“Not really, why?”
“You're not as perceptive as you usually are.”
You shot him a confused look as he smiled softly down at you, offering a nod towards the small coffee table under the window of your hospital room. 
There on your table sat your creds and your gun. The silent acknowledgement you'd been waiting for from your father. 
Spencer sat by you as you did your best to hold off the tears. He let you pretend there was something in your eye, let you wonder if your eyes had become watery because of dust from the basement. He quietly held your hand as you grinned and grinned until you pulled him in for a kiss and held him close to you. 
His lips were soft as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him down on top of you even as he tried to hold himself up and off you so he didn't hurt you. 
“You know,” you said, punctuating each word with another sweet kiss. “This means- that- you're- stuck- with- me.” 
He laughed into your final kiss, finally pulling back for more air, studying your face as if he were trying to memorize it. 
“That was never the issue.” 
“Oh really, and what was?”
He kissed your again, slow and deep this time, taking his time working his hands down from your hair to your neck to cup your face so you were opened up to him, letting his lips and tongue explore everything he wanted to. He pulled away eventually and instinctively your lips tried to chase his, even as he pulled out of reach. 
“Making sure you stayed by my side.” 
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luveline · 3 months
Note
hi jade!!!! hope you’re doing well❀
i’m not sure if you’ve done this before but i just finished reading your aaron fic where reader flinches during an argument with him and i was wondering if i could request that with spencer!? that aaron one had me MELTIN
luv you so much! đŸ€đŸ€
thank you lovely, and thank you for your request! cw implied past domestic or childhood violence
Spencer is taller than he realises, you’d suggest. He doesn’t understand that he can be intimidating because he’s spent years of his life intimidated, and thought harmless. 
“You’re not going,” he says, towering, so, so tall where he stands in front of you. 
Your hands are sweating, but you hold your ground. “Of course I am. I’ve been her consultant for the last three years, Spencer, any mistake she’s made is one she made from my advice.” 
Your frustration colours your words, tightens them, your throat burning as you try to explain it to him. All he’s hearing is the potential danger. His eyes are squinted with it, curls falling into his eyes. He’s too busy arguing with you to brush them away. 
“You can’t walk into an active war zone. Do you even know what that’s like? You’ve never been to these places, you can’t begin to understand the danger you’d be in if you went.” He tries to take your hand. You take a step away from him. “I don’t know why you’re being like this.” 
“Like what?” you ask, immediately doubly pissed off. 
“Refusing to see that what you want to do is impossible. You wouldn’t be any help to her, you’d only be in danger.” 
“I wouldn’t be any help?” 
“You know what I mean!” His voice bounces off the walls.
“I’m not sure I do, Spence,” you say, vitriolic as he again takes a step toward you, his open hand extended. “Why don’t you explain it to me.” 
“Y/N,” he says, stepping forward again. 
You step back, not wanting your back to a wall but not wanting to be closed in either while he’s so angry, you’re so angry, your heart is beating hard between your ears. “Seriously, tell me why I’d be so fucking useless.” 
“Angel–” Spencer’s hand leaps up toward your face. 
You flinch back hard, the back of your head clipping something marginally softer and your back forced under an alcove with a huge thwacking bang, an odd cry of distress pressed to your closed lips as you sink away from him. Spencer doesn’t feel like Spencer for that split second, he’s someone else trying to shut you up, and he’s close enough to do it. 
“Y/N,” he says, riddled with heartbreak, “Y/N, it’s fine. You’re safe. It’s just me.” 
You slide down the wall to the floor. Heart pounding. Blood rushing all over, and then suddenly stopped. 
“It’s just me,” he says again, softer now. “It’s just me.”
But it isn’t just him. There’s always going to be someone else cornering you, there’s always—
A slim-fingered hand cups your jaw. Spencer’s crouching in front of you now with remorse in his eyes. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t going to do anything to you.” 
“I know,” you try to say. It comes out as nothing but hot air. You clear your throat. “I know.” 
“It’s just you and me in here.” He rubs your chin with his thumb. “It’s always you and me, right?” 
You breathe out as tears well hot and heavy in your eyes, caught in all your lashes. “You put your hand up and I just thought– I felt like you were gonna hit me and I know you aren’t gonna hit me, I felt like you would.” 
“I was putting my hand up for the cabinet. I was trying to stop you from smacking your head on the cabinet,” he murmurs, his lips hardly parted. “I did. But I shouldn’t have closed you in.” 
He shows you his hand, the one he’d rested so carefully against your jaw and cheek. His knuckles are a sore red and the skin around them mottled —that had been the thwack. You’d knocked your head into his hand and he’d stopped you from getting hurt. He must’ve done it quickly, with no regard for himself. 
Spencer isn’t the kind of boy who’d hit you. 
“Oh, fuck,” you mumble to yourself, dropping your chin to your chest. Tears press hot behind your eyes. It took a few beatings for you to start anticipating them, and a crueller violence after that for it to stay. To flinch at a familiar hand? “I’m sorry.” 
“What are you sorry for?” He couldn’t speak any softer. He’s on his knees in front of you, a picture of gentleness. The annoyance he’d spoken with only minutes before is nowhere to be seen. 
For flinching, and falling apart. “I didn’t mean to
” 
“Yeah, I know. It doesn’t even matter, right? I shouldn’t have gotten so mad, and I,” —he ducks his head to meet your eyes, his voice taking on a loving dulcetness— “know you don’t like yelling, I shouldn’t raise my voice. I’m the sorry one.”
You’re relieved he isn’t mad. You honestly don’t think Spencer would ever lay his hands on you, but it wasn’t thought that made you duck away from him, it was the pure fight or flight of a remembered trauma. The memory of a raised hand and the pain of a blow to your face.
“It’s not about the shouting,” you confess. 
He rubs your arm. “Angel, I know.”
You watch his fingers rub up and down your arm, the gentle tug of your skin with each pass. “Why do you call me that?” you ask quietly. 
“Would you prefer something else?” 
“I don’t know. I don’t know how you’d sound saying anything else.” 
“You’re sort of like an angel.” He sounds earnest and shy at once. “You know? You're pretty, and sweet when you aren’t mad at me, and–” He pauses at your soft laugh. “I really didn’t mean to scare you. I’m so sorry.” 
He brings both hands to your cheeks and wipes at the dampness of dissipated tears under your eyes with his thumbs. He holds your face without hurry nor roughness nor want to straighten you out; he doesn’t encourage you to lift your head, he only meets your eyes as you are, letting you decide what you want to do. 
“Thanks, Spencer,” you say. 
He leans in to kiss your cheek, his hair brushing your nose. You hold still, but you aren’t afraid.
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bsxcrxts · 4 months
Note
I'm still petitioning for mommy kink spencer whenever you're up to itđŸš©
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the people have spoken!!!
Good Vibrations
a Spencer Reid x fem!reader fic
MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. my posts are for those 18+ ONLY! put your age in your bio to interact with me and my works or find yourself blocked!
Content Warnings: reader referred to by gendered terms (sorry, I usually try to avoid this but with mommy kink it's hard), porn mentioned as the way Spencer first heard of this kink but not described in detail at all, small cock Spencer alluded to (sorry I have to live my truth), mommy kink (as more of a title than anything tbh), vibrator usage, sub/dom dynamics, edging him, the vague mention of assplay but it doesn't happen (maybe a sequel idk 👀)
Word count: almost 1k <3 not proofread (sorry)
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Spencer's not particularly keen on porn. He hasn't watched any since the two of you started dating, but of course before that, when he was a bit younger and it seemed like no one was ever going to give him the time of day, he'd at the least been curious.
He's a man of science, after all. He knows the value of testing a hypothesis. He likes knowing things.
Most of what he found back then was... not his style. He'd known he was into being bossed around instead of being the one in charge, liked the feeling of a person telling him what to do, and on the surface, most of the videos were rather the opposite. So, out of a certain nosiness, Spencer kept looking, but nothing ever really stuck with him.
Except for one.
He'd never gone looking for it again. He didn't need to. The majority of the contents of the film itself weren't particularly of interest to Spencer. Just what the woman had told the man to call her.
It stayed with him for years, but he could never really quite bring himself to say it, or ask you about it. He wasn't at all dissatisfied with your sex life, quite the opposite, and there was no real reason to bring it up.
So he just... hasn't. Until today. By complete accident.
You're on the bed, straddling his thighs, pinning him down with nothing but your weight. Spencer's head is thrown back and he's writhing beneath you as you press your vibrator wand against his cock, letting it tease him before yanking it away.
Spencer reacts well to being edged, you know. He gets needy and whiny and absolutely desperate, and runs his mouth like a brat before he breaks and says anything to be allowed to cum.
You lightly drag the vibrator across his cock, and his hands scramble to and from the sheets to your thighs, trying to grasp onto anything to ground himself in the sensation.
"D-don't s-stop this time," he pleads, hips trying to buck under your body.
"Aww," you coo, "you like that feeling on your pretty little cock?"
"Mhm!" he gasps. "Keep going, g-god, keep g-going."
Spencer bucks his hips uncontrollably and tries to grab at your hands and pull the toy closer to intensify the feeling.
"Be polite," you tut, maintaining the vibrator, barely pressed against his tip.
"U-uhn! I-I am polite," Spencer sasses you a bit, frustrated as he tries to wiggle closer to the vibrator, chasing the sensation.
The contact vanishes from his cock as you take the toy away for the third time in this session. His cock kicks against his stomach, pre-cum oozing from the flushed head, impending orgasm vanishing.
Beneath you, Spencer huffs out a whine. You lean over him and kiss him, but refuse to touch his dick whatsoever.
"Spencer," you murmur, when he's stopped squirming underneath you. "Are you going to be good?"
Spencer nods, but whispers, "Wanna cum."
"I know, sweetheart. I want you to cum, too. But you have to be good. Can you behave?"
"Yes! Yes," he whines, running his hands sweetly up and down your thighs, stilling beneath you.
"That's it, such a good boy," you praise, and click the vibrator up to a middle intensity as you press it against his cock.
Finally, the relief of the contact in combination with the praise has Spencer's head reeling. He can't think straight, which is saying a lot for someone of his IQ, and he delves into rambling, saying anything that comes to his mind. That's when it just... slips.
"Thank you! T-thank you, mommy!!" he cries out, immediately tensing a little when he realizes what he's said.
You blink a little, not sure what you've heard. He's never called you that before.
"What'd you say?" you ask softly.
Spencer's cheeks turns beet red, and he turns to try to hide his face in the pillows.
"I'm sorry, we don't have to talk about it if you don't want–" he starts.
"Mommy, is that what you said? That's hot, Spencer," you say. "I liked it."
Spencer's whole demeanor changes. He instantly relaxes, becoming re-aware of the vibrations on his cock. "O-oh," he stutters, "then, um, good," and then, shyly, "m-mommy, can we keep going?"
"You want more, sweet boy?" you tease.
"Want whatever mommy gives me," Spencer gasps, sweetly obedient.
His words send shock waves through your stomach to your cunt, and you crank up the intensity of the vibrator, letting it run full strength against his twitching cock, and he jerks under you, unable to stop his reaction.
"Fuck! Mommy!" he cries out.
It takes a lot to get Spencer to cuss. You like the way it sounds when he says it, especially when he's lost in his pleasure below you.
He's fucked out, returning to his babbling as you tease the length of his cock with the vibe. You're reaching down to toy with his hole, running a finger along his taint and tapping there, not pushing in, not without prep, but even the suggestion of it drives him crazier.
"P-please mommy, next t-time, you could, um! Fuck!! Anything you want, mommy, just let me cum. I want you mommy, oh god, just like that!!"
"Anything I want, hm?" you tease.
"Y-yes, mommy!"
"What about you, sweetie? What do you want? You wanna cum?"
"Mommy, I needa cum. Please don't stop," he whines.
"I won't stop this time, Spencer, you were such a good and honest boy for me," you tell him, "go ahead and make a mess for me."
"Mommy!" Spencer moans, and spills all over his stomach and your vibrator.
It's certainly not the last time he calls you by that name.
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ebullientheart · 10 months
Text
the nice guy. spencer reid x reader
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content — fluff. humour. fem!bau!reader. casual mention of sex. loosely based on season four episode nine. case talk. nondescript injury to reader.
you explain to spence the difference between a nice guy and a ‘nice guy’.
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“i don’t understand this.”
morgan spun on his chair, “what’s that, wonder boy?”
the files he was flicking through were baffling him. each of the interview transcripts read the same sort of thing. ‘oh, he was a textbook ‘nice guy’ you know’, or something to that effect.
you were the one conducting that set of witness interviews, and the text before him showed no confusion on your part as you continued your original line of questioning. concluding this meant you understood, spencer ignored derek’s response and instead got up to find you. predictably, in garcia’s office, watching unreleased films, seeing as your paperwork was long completed.
“can i ask you something?” he interjected, causing penelope to throw popcorn at him as a consequence of her surprise.
“can you knock?” she quipped back, but he wasn’t really listening to her. spencer could become pretty single minded when he set his focus on something, especially if it was something he didn’t understand.
you excused yourself and followed him into the hall. the simple window on your right showed nothing but the clouded night sky, meaning only a few people lingered in the office now. spencer turned the light on by reaching past your head to the switch, while you tried to ignore the way your stomach felt upon having him lean over you.
clearing your throat, you addressed him, “what did ya need, spence?”
he showed you what he’d been preoccupied with, “what does this mean? we profiled our unsub as desperate, creepy, and we were right. why did they all describe him as a nice guy?”
you pondered for a moment on how best to explain it to him before you answered.
“they’re kind of being sarcastic. a textbook ‘nice guy’ is a guy who really pities himself, quotes ‘nice guys finish last’, that sort of thing. he thinks he’s so kind, and for that women owe him sex, so when they don’t meet that standard, he just believes women only like jerks. he sees himself as good, but he doesn’t comprehend why women would take offence to his sexual reward system for human decency.”
spencer frowned, “there are enough of them that women have a collective name for this?”
you nodded, “trademarked and everything.”
“really?”
“no, kidding.”
he smiled at you and you returned it, his curiosity fulfilled and his faith in humanity slightly lessened, as it was case by case.
a few days later, you were all jetting off to another police department, examining files and bouncing theories. spencer sat on your left, the only one close enough to hear the low rumble of your stomach. chuckling to himself, he produced a breakfast bar from his satchel and slid it over to you. the overjoyed expression on your face at food, and food in your favourite flavour, prompted him to remember your ‘nice guy’ conversation.
you offered him your thanks and he answered, “you’re welcome. no sex required.”
even though he was half kidding, half sincere, you gave him a whole laugh, easy and unabashed. the smile he donned was satisfied at initiating such glee from you.
as the investigation progressed, the danger became more and more apparent. the team knew someone was going to end up hurt, but it didn’t stop them from flinching as they saw you swinging your legs in the back of an ambulance, taking emergency blood supply. you rolled your eyes at their concern, “really, i’m fine guys. just a scratch.”
they weren’t so quick to dismiss your injury, but they didn’t hover. they had protocol to follow, local cops to brief, and press to alert. the only one who lingered was spencer, awkwardly sitting next to you at your invitation. he thought about wrapping an arm around your bare shoulder as a chill set in the air, but was too afraid to dislodge the tube. you bit the bullet of his worrying and leaned until he was prompted to support you.
“are you alright?” he knew it wasn’t the right thing to ask you, but he wasn’t sure what else to say in that moment, not when you were pressed against him so the warmth from your body bled through his vest to his own skin.
you gave a light shrug, but didn’t comment further, instead saying, “you’re nice, spencer. the real way.”
he hummed, “how’d you know?”
“nice guy trademark would’ve tried to kiss me by now. you’re just holding me.”
he knew what he was about to admit was a risk, but the question burned in his throat, “what if i wanted to? kiss you?”
you looked up at him and his heart skipped a beat. if he tried, he could count every one of your eyelashes, even though a few were clumped together by smudges of mascara that had congealed in your initial reaction to the wound. there was a brightness in your irises that sparked something in his chest. the hand you could move freely came up to his face, which had become flushed. you could feel the heat beneath your palm, but couldn’t make it out visually with his back to the ambulance light.
“i’d think you’re even nicer.”
he didn’t seem all that surprised, “can i?”
“please.”
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mggsv · 8 months
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oh guys i’m getting ideas why does he look so goodđŸ˜©đŸ˜©
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moonstruckme · 5 months
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Hellooo!!! I have a Spencer Reid request, but feel free to ignore it if you're not up for it hahaha! I was thinking about BAU!Reader and maybe her and Spencer starting to mimic each other because they've been together for a while and spend so much time together? Like the way they talk, etc! I think it could be so so cute, especially if they don't realize they're doing it and the team noticing it for them? Thank you so much, I love everything that you write đŸ€
Thanks gorgeous!
cw: discussion of tongue preservation methods? sorry in advance
Spencer Reid x bau!reader ♡ 560 words
You gaze lovingly at your boyfriend as he goes into detail about how to preserve severed tongues. 
“So the fact that this unsub is purchasing equipment actually shows a lack of medical expertise, since he seems to be going overboard with preservation measures.” Spencer’s nodding as he talks, a tiny scrunch between his brows. “It’s pretty silly actually. It’s probably only a matter of time until he figures out he just needs to keep them on ice.” 
Rossi’s eyebrows raise, and Morgan chuckles quietly. 
Spencer blinks, eyes refocusing as he comes out of his brain and back into the conference room. “What?”
“Did you just say the unsub was silly?” Prentiss asks, and his eyebrows refurrow. 
“Did I?” 
“Let’s stay on task.” Hotch is all business. “If he were as inexperienced as that would suggest, he probably wouldn’t make clean cuts. This skill level indicates some level of expertise.” 
“Well, actually, I’m not sure it would necessarily be medical expertise,” you say, cringing at your own knowledge. “The process he’s using doesn’t sound dissimilar to how I think they preserve cow tongues. Maybe he’s preparing them to eat.” 
You’re doing your best not to squirm, and Spencer can likely tell, placing a slender hand on your leg under the table. “That’s a good point,” he says, “he could have experience as a chef or in the meatpacking business.” 
Prentiss frowns. “Yeah, but how many chefs know how to preserve tongues?” 
“Maybe we could start by looking into restaurants that serve those kinds of delicacies,” JJ suggests. 
“Good.” Hotch closes his binder, standing. “Garcia, you get started on that and we’ll touch base with you from Atlanta. Wheels up in two hours.” 
“Yes sir.” Garcia looks a bit green—you sympathize—as she hurries out of the conference room. 
Morgan’s giving you one of his knowing looks, collecting his things extra slow, until finally you sigh. “What?” 
“Well, actually,” he mimics, lips curving into a grin. “You and pretty boy must be getting serious if you’re taking on his signature phrase.” 
You roll your eyes, but Spencer smiles, looping his crossbody bag over his head. “Actually, language style matching is only one form of mirroring. If you’re paying attention, people who spend a lot of time together can mirror each other down to their breathing rhythms or how many times they blink within a minute.” 
You look at him interestedly. “So what does that mean? Just that we’re spending too much time together?” 
The look Spencer gives you threatens to liquefy you with its softness. “There’s never too much time.” 
Morgan’s laughter is hooting, and you want to find that as cheesy as he does, you really do, but the place within yourself where you usually reach for sarcasm has gone mushy and useless. You rearrange some things in your bag unnecessarily, head down to hide your blush.
“Wow,” Morgan sighs happily, “I don’t know which one of you is more whipped.” 
This would normally be your opportunity to think of a retort, but luckily you don’t have to. JJ pops back into the room, looking frowny. 
“We just got a call from Atlanta. The unsub killed again overnight.” 
Spencer grows serious. “He’s accelerating?” 
“Yup.” She nods. “Hotch wants us there now, so it’s wheels up in twenty.” 
You and Spencer nod in tandem. “Sick.”
Morgan’s eyes roll straight up to the ceiling.
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ddejavvu · 5 months
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ok this one may be a little off putting BUT
Spencer, going out with the bau clubbing and bau!reader is getting absolutely hammered throughout the night bc of em and jj, and eventually it leads to the responsibility of him taking the reader home but the reader is trashed and feels gross so she wants to take a shower and basically begs spencer to get in the shower with her to wash her hair.
love u have a great dayyyyyyy đŸ€đŸŠ†
Spencer the germaphobe would have never thought he'd have his nails raking through unwashed hair that was not his own. He takes solace in the bubbles frothing at his fingertips, an assurance that he's cleaning your hair, not just spreading the filth from the club through its strands, but it's still several steps to the left of his comfort zone.
If it were anyone else, he would have said a very firm, but kind, no, and he may have gagged as soon as they were out of earshot. But it was you, and you looked at him with your pretty eyes, your pretty sad eyes, your pretty tired eyes, and asked him to please help you clean yourself up before bed, because you'd just washed your sheets and you didn't want to dirty them with the remnants of a night out.
He reasons that designated driver duties included walking you to your door, getting you a glass of water for the morning, and locking your apartment behind him, but he hadn't planned on helping you shower. That he had only agreed to under extreme stress (those pretty, sad, tired eyes he can't stop thinking about) and it's how he finds himself now crouched on the lid of your toilet, scrubbing suds through your hair.
"Thanks, Spence," You groan, feeling his nails rake across your scalp, "I was- I dunno how I was gonna do this without you. I'm dizzy."
It's a concerning observation to be made while cross-legged on the ground and not tired with the effort of standing up, but Spencer reasons that you'll feel better after a night's sleep. A night that he's not sure he can let you spend alone for fear of you choking on your own sick.
You've taken to resting your flushed forehead against Spencer's calf, and it's leaving a soapy stain on his poor excuse for social wear. The only two types of pants that he owns are slacks and pajama pants, and he's not sure he'll be able to properly clean this pair anymore. But he doesn't push you off - in fact, he takes note of the feeling of your touch against his leg.
"I'm cold," You shiver in place, despite the warm water flowing around you, as well as the clothes still on your body, now soaked. Thankfully you'd retained enough of your brainpower to know not to strip in front of Spencer, and he's grateful that he didn't need to enforce the matter.
"You're still dressed," He muses, taking the showerhead and rinsing his hands, then turning it on the mass of bubbles atop your head, "You'll be in pajamas soon."
"M'kay," You accept, even though Spencer can still see goosebumps on your exposed forearms from the cold, "Will you help me change?"
Perhaps you had not retained as much of your brainpower as Spencer thought you had.
"Uh," He stammers, "focused on a patch of suds near the nape of your neck, "Do you think you could- um, do it yourself?"
"I guess. Maybe. I don't know," You laugh at the absurdity of your own statements, "What, you don't wanna see me naked?"
"Y/N!" He gushes, cheeks burning hotter than the water that's pooling around your form on the floor of your shower, "No, I- I mean not while- not now! You're drunk."
"I only got drunk so I'd finally man up and make a move," You grumble against his calf, and Spencer's previously racing heart stops beating altogether, "Just- tell me I said that tomorrow, okay Spence? I'm gonna be pissed at- uh, at me if I forgot."
Spencer agrees with all the niceties that he's learned in dealing with the public, an empty promise falling from his lips when all else fails him, "Okay, I will."
"Liar," You accuse, your nose still nestled snugly against his leg, "This sucks. We're both too scared to make a move. Maybe we should both get shitfaced, and just buy a Plan B the next morning."
Spencer is well and truly speechless. He has several options as to his next response, if he can ever muster up the courage to enact them: an awkward laugh, a strained chuckle, prolonged silence. Instead of choosing any of those he swallows, the action almost hurting his now-dry throat, "Uh- Plan B can interfere with your next menstrual cycle, and there's a host of other side effects that aren't ideal for you."
"Fine." You snort, "We'll keep the baby."
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scuttling · 2 years
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Hello!
I read the While you were sleeping x criminal minds fanfiction and I loved the concept!
but I can't find any other pieces than the first one, did you ever write more? I
Hello Noa! 🌿 You have brightened my day with this ask and given me newfound motivation to write it! I had only written the first chapter last year and then put it on the back burner, but I am on vacation from work for a week so I'm going to pick it back up!
There will be some changes, but I'm going to post the first chapter in a couple of hours! I would never have done this without you, so thank you so much for reaching out to me. đŸ€ I hope you have a wonderful day/weekend and that you enjoy where I take the story. And please don't be a stranger!
While You Were Sleeping (Okay, In a Coma) fic summary:
What happens when Derek Morgan, the man reader is secretly in love with, goes into a coma, and everyone around them mistakes her for his girlfriend? As if things weren't complicated enough, his boss is sweet, kind, incredibly handsome, and makes sure she's taken care of while Derek is in the hospital. Plus, she thinks one of Derek's coworkers is more secretly in love with him than she is. Feelings shift, but how does she explain to the world that she fell for Aaron while Derek was sleeping, without hurting the team she's come to care about?
First chapter up at 12PM EST!
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