#reid series

[railingsofsorrow]

Recharging. . .

[spencer reid x reader]

summary: spencer's best remedy is his little family.

pairing: s.reid x f!reader (+ eden reid!)

w.c: 3.8K

warnings/content: fluff; cuteness overload; children; spencer is a girl's dad; discussion of a case; mentions of death and traumatic events; this is basically a hurt/comfort blurb; mentions of pregnancy; mentions of marriage; crying.

A/N: is anybody in need of some fluff? this was supposed to be a short drabble.... enjoy this old WIP as I finish some of my requests.

loosely inspired by ocie elliott's take me home

want to read more works about this au?

→ day-off

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You stopped the low humming to the song as you eyed the rearview mirror to check on your kid. The familiar scratching against your seat warning you she was awake.

“Hey bub,” you take advantage of the red traffic light to dive your hand back and tickle her bare feet. She'd always kick off her shoes the first chance she got. Your favorite sound echoes through the car: her giggle. “You were just napping, where'd that energy come from?” you refer again to the tip of her feet bumping against your car seat. Another reminder that she was getting bigger every day.

Eden raised her arms, wriggling her little fingers like she did when she was excited for something. You were pretty sure she got that from Penelope, you always saw they do this whenever she came over to your place.

“We're visiting daddy!”

A laugh bubbles out of you. Eden left you amazed by her perception of things. Although the route from your apartment to the BAU wasn't that strange for her anymore, given that you and Spencer drove a lot to drop each other off with her in the car.

“Are we?” You turn on an avenue, humming. “I didn't notice.”

Eden looks at you through the rearview mirror, “but you're driving, mommy. You need the GPS. It's in your head.”

“Is it?” You're amused at your toddler's choice of words. “Okay. Yes, we're visiting daddy at work. We've come to pick him up because he's very tired from a case and it's not good to drive while you're tired, right?”

“Right!” She nods vehemently, craning her neck to check on the view through the window. “And he needs me to recharge his bats.”

You finish parking your car and a smile curls up the edges of your mouth. Eden can't say the word batteries so she shortened it to an easier version which is bats. You still have to teach her what the word actually means.

“That's right,” you say, taking off your seatbelt and opening the door. By the time you reach the backseat, Eden is grinning like the Cheshire cat. Her excitement never ceases to rub off on you, even though you enter this building most of the days in a week. “Hi, baby.” You cooed, welcoming your child in your arms after unbuckling her seatbelt. Her light brown curls that you have no idea who she got it from tickle the side of your face as she snuggles to your chest to stare at the tall FBI building.

“Shoes on. Coat on. All warmed up. Shall we go up?”

An eager Eden exclaims a loud YES and that's enough for you to start walking.

From “Spencer”:

[6:34 p.m] No need to pick me up, angel, I can drive. I am not that tired.

[6:35 p.m] Is Eden still at your mom's? I can pick her up on the way.

This is the mutual feeling you have on workdays. Not in a million years you'd understand how hard it was to be away from your daughter for more than one day. Until it happened.

It makes your heart break when you're not able to tuck her into bed or pick her up at school to see her excited little legs run towards you. In spite of the fact that Spencer and you manage well to alternate days at work so she always has one of you close by, it's difficult to not see her every day when a case takes either one of you out of the city.

You can only image how much he misses her after being away for four days.

You left the messages unanswered and click on another chat instead. Light of my life with a bunch of hearts is the one you're looking for. Penelope somehow stole your phone someday and changed her contact name to this; you never changed it back, just left as it was, it suits her anyway.

“Smile.” You request Eden as you lift your phone to take a selfie of the two of you. Her grin exposes her two missing front teeth. “Done.” You kiss her cheek and adjust her in your hold to type another text, waiting for the elevator to reach your desired floor.

To “Light of my life 💗❤️💕”

[6:38 p.m] incoming at five... four... three...

You hit send right as the elevator doors spread open.

Just as you step into the bullpen, it's as if a switch has flipped because your daughter promptly tucks her face into the croak of your neck, her cold nose making your shiver slightly. Her hands clinging onto your blouse.

Eden gets shy under watchful eyes, no matter how many times she visits the BAU.

Penelope is walking briskly out of her office, her hands wriggling into your direction as she catches sight of you and the bundle in your arms. Every eye in the bullpen turns to you because of the commotion.

You haven't seen your husband yet.

“There is pumpkin!” That's the reason that pulls Eden out of her shell. She practically throws herself out of your arms and into her favourite aunt's arms. “Oh, hello, hello, my beautiful niece, whom I have missed so much!”

Eden is giggling and you can't help but smile softly at the scene. Soon, your friends start approaching one by one. It doesn't take long for Eden to have at least two new toys in her hands. Emily and Derek are competing which one she likes best.

“She's so big.” JJ entwines her arm with yours.

You sigh, leaning closer to her, “Yes, she is.” You say, observing Eden play with Emily. “Henry as well! How is he by the way? We haven't had a playdate in so long.”

JJ nods, “He's great, my sweet boy.” Her eyes hold a fondness that you relate. “And that's true. We have to set up a date, catch up on things that aren't murders and blood.”

“Preach, Jayge.”

Your laughter dies down when the two people missing from the group appear. Your eyes met Spencer's and his whole body seems to relax as if it physically pained him to stand and seeing you just helped him take a breath of fresh air. Luke greeted you with a side hug and was immediately captured by Eden's endearing spell, as expected. Although, once Spencer entered her line of sight, no one else mattered.

Spencer let his satchel drop to the ground without a care so he could scoop Eden up as she jumped into his arms. His sullen demeanor converting into a cheerful one in a blink of an eye. This is what Eden means by “recharging”.

You watch the reunion with a growing smile, deciding to approach them a little later.

“Hi, sweetheart,” Spencer says while peppering kisses at her cheek, her little nose and her forehead. Eden could only reply with giggles as her whole face became red at the overwhelming love she's receiving. “Daddy missed you so much, did you know that?” And the crack in his voice goes unnoticed by her, but not by you, so you take advantage of everyone's distraction to step towards your little family.

Eden is giving her dad a butterfly kiss when you get to them. That's her way of saying I missed you to any of you when you come back home.

“Hey,” you squeeze his arm in a gentle touch, grabbing his attention. “Tough one?” your question is discreet, only meant for him. Eden is fortunately too busy with her new stuffed toy that Derek is showing her to notice anything else.

The dimmed spark in Spencer's eyes along with the red outline of his eyelids are everything you need to know. You don't need words — you never needed words to understand Spencer — but he provides you a meek yeah and swallows hard. The only thing that seems to be holding him back from crumbling down is the fact that he's holding his daughter.

In an attempt of comfort, you pull his free hand to yours, intertwining your fingers and giving it a tight squeeze. Just for him to know that you were there and it's okay now.

He repeats the action, the corner of his lips pulling slightly. His attention is quickly stolen back to Eden, who starts listing possible names to the new friends that uncle Derek and auntie Emily had gifted her.

They discuss the matter until you bid everyone goodbye, a playdate, a babysitting afternoon and a girls night out scheduled. Trying to take Eden from Spencer was foolish, he didn't want to let her go. No matter how tired he was. Better yet, she didn't want to let him go either.

“I think grapes would be a great name, E.” Spencer praises her daughter's naming skills as he buckled her up in the safety seat. “What about this one?” He grabs the green bunny and places it in front of his face, his voice in a high-pitched tone to imitate an animal's voice. “What will you name me after, miss Eden Reid? I am green and I like carrots!”

Eden's bright caramel eyes glint with joy and she pulls the bunny to her chest, holding it tightly. “I know what I'm going to call them.”

“You do?” You were starting to be curious as well.

“Mr. Greenie.”

“You're so clever.” Spencer and Eden shared accomplice smiles and you see everything of him in her at that single action. It was in the nose scrunch whenever she found something particularly funny, in the spark of mischief in her eyes and even the outline of her mouth which you never stopped noticing from the moment she was born. Eden carried a lot of mannerisms and features from you but those things? They definitely came from him.

He's not even halfway to the driver's side when you steal the keys that he had stolen from you when you were in the building. You've known each other for ten years, for three out of those ten you have been married and Spencer still thinks he can be slick with you.

“You're riding shotgun today, pretty boy.”

His eyes are filled with amusement as you walk by and give his butt a soft squeeze.

“Really?” He says, leaning on your window. You had already turned the engine on when you give him a serious look. “It's a long drive. You already drove all the way here.”

Giving him an eyeroll, you muse, “It's not that long, Spence. And you're tired. Just get in.”

Quantico wasn't far from your home, but ten minutes in the road was enough to send Eden to dreamland. You were certain she had fallen asleep when her humming to Angeleyes, that was playing on the car radio, stopped.

You suppose Spencer has fallen asleep as well, until you stole a glimpse at him during a red light to see he was just staring out the window. A far away gaze.

His mind was far. You could feel that. You two enjoy the silence but it's not like that. This is not the kind of silence you want to bask in after a tiring day of work. No, this is different. It comes with the type of things you face at work, the voices in your head that claim they know what's best.

You know that silence. You've drowned in it once.

A gentle breeze caused a few strands to slip out behind his ear. He was letting his hair grow longer again. You liked it, it suited him.

“Hey.”

Your knuckles grazed his cheek softly, tucking a piece of his hair behind his ear. Your hand lingered at the nape of his neck and he let out a sigh, leaning back in a way that you knew he needed that kind of touch.

Good thing your love language is physical touch.

“You want to talk to me about it?” A whisper.

Spencer refrained from a verbal answer, but he reached up for your hand, lifting it to his lips to place a prolonged kiss which translated to I'm glad to have you.

“Not now,” he said, caressing your palm. Definitely later then. Your communication can be non-verbal sometimes and that's one of the great parts of your relationship. You knew that some days words were hard, so the touch and the eyes fulfilled the void of a voice.

He gave it a delicate squeeze and that's when you realized the light had turned green, so your attention was back to driving.

At some point, you could feel a comforting weight at your right thigh. It was the familiar warmth of Spencer's hand, something that he liked to do whenever you drove. Good thing his love language is physical touch.

“I got her.” He practically leaped out of the vehicle once you parked, walking around the other side to get Eden.

Your asleep child didn't so much as flinch while being picked up. You caught her little arms embracing his neck as you locked the doors of your car, her shoes on your hand and Spencer's satchel on another. He tried to fight you on that but you just ignored him.

“Sleepy head,” you mouth to him as the elevator went up. Eden's big eyelashes fluttered lightly when you kissed the top of her head.

The corner of your husband's lips quirked up, “Just like her mother. Sleeps anywhere.” He said, not breaking eye contact, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

Rolling your eyes, you hummed, “Don't know what you're talking about.”

The apartment was quiet, an unusual occurrence at this time of the day. Normally, Eden would be rambling about her day when one of you arrived from work — I learnt about seagulls today and we made a drawing; grandma made cookies!; Teacher Susan read a story about a princess saving her kingdom, I want to be like her someday. Isn't it like what you do, mama? I want to be like you — a range of subjects mixed with her occasional endless energy of a child. Some nights, she wouldn't stop running around until she tired herself — and both of you — off.

Today was different. She was asleep before you even arrived home, it was way before 8 p.m and the apartment was quiet, no toys scattered around, no ink stain on the floor. She was into painting nowadays which is a rather messy hobby for a kid, but you'd indulge your daughter's wishes anytime. She is a kid, she should be messy.

“I love you, bub.” Your ears pick up Spencer's faint voice from the entrance of Eden's bedroom. You perched up at the wall, careful enough to make yourself unknown. Not wanting to disturb the little father-daughter moment. “I'll always be here.”

That was something that didn't need to be said out loud because Spencer showed that every day. He didn't spare love demonstrations regarding you or Eden, he never had. Although you know part of the reason beneath that promise. Some people haunt us forever, even when they are no longer present in our lives. His father still walks somewhere in the corner of his mind, no matter how many times you tell him that he is not him.

“Is the whole bathroom drenched or...?”

Spencer chuckled, seeking for your hand to pull you closer as you stride to your bedroom.

“It wouldn't be Eden if she didn't make an entire spectacle during bath time.” He said. “But I cleaned it up, so don't worry.”

“That's true.” You eye his soaked shirt attempting to contain a smile. “Guess you already took your shower?”

“You're so funny,” Spencer murmurs dryly.

“Yeah, well,” you shrug nonchalantly, slowly encircling your arms around his neck. “Wasn't that why you married me? Or was it for my good looks? Nah, it was definitely my terrific sense of humour, wasn't it?” A peck on his lips. “You can admit it. I won't be mad.”

“Ego the size of a lake, that one.” He mumbles, burying his face in the croak of your neck and practically locked you in his hold.

You started to message on his shoulders to ease whatever felt heavy in his chest. At least, until he let you in.

It wasn't until after you both showered separately to finally call it a day and laid down to rest that he broke his silence.

“A little girl died. We couldn't get to her in time.”

Oh, kids.

Now it all made sense.

A shiver went down your spine at the thought.

“Oh, Spencer...” if the tone of your voice translated anything, it was that you understood. His body was entangled to yours when you tried to diminish a bit of his pain by showing that you were there. “I'm sorry, sweetheart,” you said into his curls. The moist sensation in your pajamas top let you know he was crying, but you didn't give it a second thought. It was what he needed.

“I could only think of her and I—” he said shakily, suddenly leaning away to cover his face. “Any rational thinking went down the drain.” His croaked out, drying his tears in the harshest way possible. You pulled his hands away from his face, replacing it with your softer touch.

“Spencer.”

“I can't even— even grasp my head around—”

You cut him off, “good. Don't do that. Because it's not real. Spencer,” you cup his cheeks, forcing him to look at you so he could focus on something that wasn't the disruptives thoughts in his head. “Eden is here, in the room next to ours, safe and sound.” That seemed to calm him down lightly, but you could see the conflict in his gaze.

“I wasn't fast enough.”

“It was not your fault.”

“You weren't there.”

You sigh, “I don't need to physically be there to know that you, as well as the team, did your best to crack the case, Spencer. As you do in every other case we have.” The hardest part of this job was still the loss that you had to live with. The guilt. The shame that, despite doing your best, you wouldn't be able to save everyone. “As we always do.” Sometimes, you needed some convincing too.

“I know it's hard to believe what I'm saying,” you forehead was touching his and your eyes were shut. “but it's the truth. You have every reason to feel that way, it never gets easy to face what we face every day. But, Spencer. It was not your fault. You did what you could, please trust me on this, okay?” Please, don't blame yourself. You don't deserve it.

“Our little girl is right next door, sleeping with her favourite plushie. Safe. Because we make sure of that every single day.” You know it's not that simple, to not doubt the dangers that run in the world, probably in your street, but you can't live in fear and you don't want your daughter to live in fear either. “And I'm right here. we're not going anywhere.” You won't lose us.

“Yeah,” he croaks out, releasing a batted breath. “Yeah, I know.”

Slipping an arm around your middle to bring you closer was the indication you needed to understand that he was hearing your words. Your husband settled for accepting your warmth for the time being, you were playing with his curls, gently brushing them away from his face.

That's all he needed, really. You. The home and family you have build together. Nothing else.

“You know,” you say, thumb traveling across his jawline until it reached the tip of his nose. “People keep saying she has your nose and I think I'm starting to see it.”

His body shook with laughter, causing his eyes to crinkle slightly.

“Oh, really? You're starting to see it now?”

Your lips curled up at the edges, “Yes.” You lied, poking his ribs, earning a glare. Your smile only widened. “No. The nose is clearly yours.” He raised an eyebrow and shrugged.

Spencer leaned close enough so he could press his lips to yours.

“She has the outline of your mouth, though.” He tucked a strand behind your ear. “And your eyes.”

Soft padding against the floor pulled you out of your trance and you knew who was at the door before looking through the open space of the door that's been left ajar.

“Is that a ghost that I'm seeing, angel?”

You decided to enter Spencer's playful undertone.

“Mhm. Good question, I think that's definitely a squirrel or something. Look at the red and yellow paws.”

Eden's mismatched socks flashed your eyes in the dim light of your side table lamp. Her soft giggling made you smile instantly.

“What are you doing up, sweetheart?” She curled up to his bare chest as soon as he scooped her up to hold her on his hip. “Mhm?”

She grabbed both of his cheeks, forcing him to lean down so she could say something to him. You observed them with a curious gaze. “It's not a squirrel,” Eden whispered. Spencer's face broke out into a grin, “tell mama it's me.” Spencer nodded and dutifully did as asked.

“Oh!” You exclaimed, acting surprised. “It's you, bub? With these tiny socked feet, I almost didn't recognize.” Eden's shrieks as you pepper her whole face with kisses. “You want to sleep with mommy and daddy tonight?” It's your turn to whisper as if it's a secret, but it's loud enough for Spencer to hear it as well.

Eden nods shyly, resting her head on her dad's shoulder. Her feet wriggling lightly. Who could ever resist those sweet doe eyes?

The three of you then lay down in your bed, Eden engulfed between Spencer and you. Hopefully, she wouldn't kick and turn all night like she commonly did. She was sleeping through the entire night alone in her bedroom, though some nights — like today — she would sneak in to yours.

Just like you expected, the toddler fell into dreamland with your soft chatter about random things you did during the day and what you needed to do during the upcoming week. You cracked a smile at her slight parted lips and wild curls dispersed on your arm which her head was laid on.

“Thank you.”

Your attention drifts from a sleeping Eden to Spencer. His eyes carried their usual light again. They now glinted with a familiar pride rather than the heavy darkness it was drowning in earlier in the evening.

“What for?” Your whole demeanor softened at the way he was looking at you, heart swelling with love.

“This,” he says, eyes falling on Eden. “For this. Her. You.”

You blink, the sudden urge to cry is being hold back by a thread. You don't know how to react.

“You're the best thing that's ever happened to me.” And he's said that before. When you first confessed and he said he felt the same. In your wedding day. When Eden was born.

“And you are the best thing that's ever happened to me, Spencer.” You manage to whisper beneath the crack in your voice. He lifts his torso to kiss both of the single tears that slipped out of your eyelids, caressing your cheek lovingly. “I love you.”

“I love you too, angel.” His mouth stretches into a soft grin. “And I love the life we have built.”

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taglist: @lilyviolets

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A/N: will never forgive the show for not making this man a dad.

#spencer reid fanfiction #reader insert #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fluff #thinking of making this a series #spencer reid one shot #criminal minds imagine

[kisses4reid]

convenient pt.3 | ·˚ ༘ spencer reid ,,

pt. 1 | pt.2 (you cannot read this without prior reading)

summary - spencer likes the girl from the convenience store

warnings - awkward conversations and long silences, both of them being hopeless romantics, allergies/sickness

genre - fluff!!! college!fem!reader x earlyseasons!spencer

a/n - thank you for the love and support on this series. it goes without saying i appreciate all of you all 🫶 thank u @raevyng for the cameo. sorry this is short, it’s either i upload this part or i make y’all wait for another week - i like you guys too much to do that.

“good job on you’re stem cell report, y/n. it was very informed and unique. i liked the, now who was it… william blake quote you included!” the teacher spoke before a class of 60. it was back to teaching new information before the next assessment, you were just about finished typing the professor’s notes before she spoke up. the mention of your name nearly made you jump.

a few of the students looked back up at you, some looking around because they had no clue who you were. you liked it better that way.

you also had no idea who william blake was.

“oh- um. thanks.” you say barely above a whisper. professor raena simply smiled and pushed back her shoulder length bob from her face. she started talking again, so did your friend.

“thanks? the professor who’s known to call out people for their incompetence more than smile in the classroom just praised you. that’s all you had to say?”

maybe logan wasn’t your friend per say. maybe she was just someone who sat next to you the first class and also happened to be your neighbour. she was stubborn and straight-forward, insanely intelligent and also smelt great. but she was caring, and gave you tough love when you needed it.

you glanced at her and smiled awkwardly, “i didn’t have much time to think about an answer.”

“i spend most of my time thinking about what i’d say to professor raena if she ever complimented me.”

“that’s because your-“ you suddenly muffle a cough into your hand, “obsessed with her.” you bring out a small packet of tissues from your bag and wipe your nose, nose reddening. logan leans slightly away from you and you roll your eyes.

“you’re not going to catch anything, it’s just allergies.” you lean back and try to continue typing notes but logan continues,

“you should go home, have some medicine, get some sleep.”

“i can’t, i’ve got work.” you whispered, a man in front of you turning around to shoot you with a side eye.

“you’ve told me multiple times that your manager wouldn’t care if you stole from the store. i’ve also told you many times i also don’t care.”

“yeah well… i like working there, that’s all.”

she rolls her eyes again, and waves you off, her long brown hair blocking her disappointed expression from you.

you stayed loyal to your job for two nights, for nothing. sure you got paid, and sure you got to steal some strawberry milk to ease your throat for a couple of minutes, but it felt boring. you actually started to file through the month old magazines you sold for double the price of a new one. you almost made it a third day without dying of allergies (and another secret feeling of sickness you constantly ignored), before you decided you were over it.

you stood up, flipped the door sign so the word ‘open’ faced you, and turned off half of the fluorescent lights before someone was suddenly in the corner of your eyes. spencer was opening the door so quickly you thought you were being robbed, you wouldn’t have seen him if not for the bell ringing on his entry.

“y/n.” he panted, watching your fingers hover over the last light switch. there was two lights left flickering softly above the front door and the check out desk. he looked stoic in the light, dressed in a grey sweater a little too big for him (like his mother had bought it for him telling him he’d grow into it) and black slacks. he seemed to have gotten a trim, his hair just under his ears now. “you don’t close until 1.”

he was confused, eyes wandering with a light hint of relief. like he was happy he didn’t miss you.

“yeah.” is all you said before you turned away from the light switch and returned to the register, assuming he would get his usual. but he didn’t keep walking, he just turned his body to face you. his eyes were expectant, delirious in a way like he needed something from you.

it was silent before the tension literally forced you to speak, “um. i need to close the store before i pass out. so i can uh… get home alive.” you look down and realise the pile of tissues before you was making a mountain, quickly grabbing them and stuffing them in an over filled bin.

“um.” a cat caught his tongue, he looked down to his feet.

spencer was sitting in his desk chair, scrolling on his government provided computer through forums and websites on ‘how to ask out a girl.’ not realising a majority of his team was reading them as well. he heard a small, familiar giggle behind him, quickly closing the tab and turning his head to be met with many other faces. jj slapped garcia on the shoulder with a smile, who’s hand was over her mouth, morgan and emily also smiling. spencer sighed and was about to cover for himself before morgan stepped in,

“look, pretty boy. no websites or article is ever going to teach you how to ask out a girl. they know nothing.”

emily joined, “yeah, none of those things are going to work. i mean, one of those said ‘don’t take no for an answer’. that’s straight up harassment.” she chuckled. morgan walked forward and placed a hand on spencer’s shoulder.

“all you have to do is talk. learn to what she likes, and be confident.”

“that’s easy for you to say.” spencer mumbled.

“who is this girl anyways? who’s taking our genius away from us?” garcia asked, today her hair was adorned with green themed pieces and a small pink flower clip.

spencer couldn’t help but let the corners of his mouth perk up when he thought about the girl who worked at the convenience store. the girl who’s report honestly impressed him. the girl who knew his total without looking at the register. the girl who called him good looking without noticing, like it slipped off of her tongue with no second thought. “just someone.”

you were not just someone.

“yeah you should get home. you look terrible.” spencer’s eyes widened as you raised an eyebrow, “no i mean- not terrible- you never look or have ever looked terrible- i just meant today- no you- like you’re sick and obviously- i mean you don’t obviously look terrible- it’s just uh…” he nodded at himself after he noticed a smile creeping onto your face. “you know what i mean.”

“i know i look terrible, thank you.” he was slowly walking up to the register.

“you really should go home, i shouldn’t keep you here because of some coffee.”

you eyes stung and were puffed in redness, you nose dried yet running, eyebrow lines permanent from warding off a migraine. any other customer you would stay for, but you felt less guilty with him. not because you didn’t care, because you knew he did.

“yeah, thank you.” you grabbed your bag, put your empty water bottle into it and walked over to the lights, turning off the last ones, leaving you both in darkness. spencer was waiting for you, quite creepily as he was basically just a block of void. “you sure you don’t need your 3 minute lasagne?” you joked, and he smiled.

“no, this is fine.”

this? them? you thought this man was articulate.

you opened the door with a key-accessed button that automatically locked it after it closed, and walked into the warm streetlight with spencer.

“bye spencer.” you looked up to him only to find his eyes already on you. his face was plain of emotion, except maybe it was just the lighting that made you think he looked disappointed. not at you, at himself. he was silent, hands making their way into his pockets. it was a habit, you had learned. “what’s wrong spencer?” you asked softly, sniffling immediately after.

it was cold, the wind let a stray piece of hair cross your stuffy features.

“do you like old bookstores, y/n?”

you blinked, taken aback. “yeah. i like old bookstores.” you huddled into your sweater, a darker grey compared to his with a large font displaying your university.

“okay, goodbye y/n. see you tomorrow.” he hurried off into his car and you followed him with you eyes in curiosity.

you were already walking away before he could turn around and ask you something, he felt like he had missed his chance. but there would be more. spencer closed his eyes in frustration and took a breath, starting his car before texting the team’s group chat.

“Attempt One failed. 😐👎”

there was a string of messages after but he didn’t read them. all he could think about was the percentage of people who die alone, and then the percentage of people who are like you.

the next night he appeared at the normal time, around nearly 11pm. but he wasn’t the only one, logan was there with you, studying behind you on the floor.

she was bored, and needed to get out of her room, and the only person she knew well enough was you. there in her mens pyjama pants and an over-sized shirt that read ‘RIP Princess Diana’ with a photo of owen wilson on it, her computer warmed her lap and made a soft whirling sound the in the background.

“hi y/n.” spencer waved, he felt bad about last night. you were barely walking straight when you left and he could tell you wouldn’t get out of your ‘work clothes’ (whatever you wanted to wear with a vest over it) before falling onto your mattress, and he drove away. he didn’t even offer to take and walk you home, let alone give you a ride. but his hands were sweating and his heart thumping in his ears, and he couldn’t think straight.

“oh, hi spencer.” you turned from your own textbook splayed on the counter beside you to see spencer and his tall self. a bag of apples, a 2 minute bolognese container, and a bag of coffee. you scan them, weigh the apples, and watch him.

he wasn’t meeting you eyes. you furrowed your eyebrows for a second before telling him his total with a sniffle.

“i’m sorry for not driving you home,” he lifted his head, a piece of chocolate brown hair crossing his left eye, “or walking you home. or making sure you made it home safe.”

you widened your eyes slightly and sat still before spencer cleared his throat and continued, “i was nervous, about being around you. and my friends- my colleagues- told me i need to be more confident around you so.”

logan had stopped writing, glancing through her bangs up at you both. your mouth was slightly agape before you realised how stupid you looked and how awkward you were making it.

“oh- no it’s okay spencer, you don’t have to say sorry. i was- i’m fine. um,” you tilt your head with the corner of your lips quirking up with little resistance, “you talk about me to your friends?”

spencer nodded, put his hands in his pockets and thought for a second. he wished there was a better place to do this, a better person to take over for him.

all you have to do is talk.

spencer is great at talking.

“did you know that you could be scrolling for seven weeks before you can reach the end of ‘how to ask a girl out’ results on google? i was scrolling for a long time but then my friends told me to just talk and be confident, but i’m only good at one of those thing. so i was trying to ask you out last night but then i- well i failed basically, it isn’t my strong suit,” he took a breath, “so basically i’m saying sorry for not asking you out and not driving you home.”

it was silent, even a customer stopped humming.

“and also your allergy medication isn’t strong enough for your symptoms.” he glanced down to a white and blue box by your hand. you looked down, seeing logan in the corner of your eyes, hand covering her face.

“spencer-“

“dude just ask her out.”

spencer’s face dropped, and he looked over the counter to find another woman sat down, a cringed out expression on her face. his nervousness increased after he realised this wasn’t as private a conversation as he thought. wiping his hand on his vest, he continue with a gulp,

“no i can’t. not here, um. i’ll see you on monday. and i promise i’ll uh- be better? i’ll try again, so. okay see you on monday.” he quickly took his groceries and walked off quite speedily. you watched him walk away and then once he was out of sight, you simply stared at the box of allergy medication on the counter.

logan groaned in the background and said something about growing balls, but it was tv silence for you.

you didn’t know how to go out with someone, your last relationship was in your first year of high school with a guy who thought baby’s came out of a woman’s bum. not that spencer meant he wanted a relationship, no it could just be a friend ‘going out’. totally not romantic.

you slump and stuff your face in your hands. you didn’t care if you hadn’t dated for however long, he didn’t seem to be a man-whore at all. you just cared about how you were actually going to say yes to a man you’ve only talked to inside of an off-brand convenience store on the night shift.

you muffle a scream before the same silent customer placed a carton of milk on the counter.

“$2.50.” you grumble.

you carried logan’s computer bag as she took out a box of strawberry pocky on the sidewalk. the store was locked, the air was crisp, the light was flickering. you didn’t say much until logan couldn’t stand it anymore.

“you know when you’re this silent it’s actually pretty nice, i like peaceful walks home.” you nodded, and continued your racing thoughts with your line of vision stuck on the concrete as you both walked the block to your apartments. she sighed, “but it’s odd. you love talking. a guy likes you and you go mute?”

“his name is spencer, he does something dangerous for a living, he likes old books and drinks a lot of coffee. he gets home late at night, looks skinny but can lift a box of flour above his head with ease. he’s insanely smart and reads poetry, and helped me with my stem cell report.”

you look over at logan who looks a little disgusted but mainly confused.

“he helped me lift that box of flour without me asking. i have no idea who william blake is. i have no idea how he managed to put poetry in a biology report, and i have no idea how he can admit he’s going to ask me out and then not ask me out. his favourite colour is purple, his favourite fruit is grapes but he buys apples because they’re cheaper. and his name is… spencer.”

logan stopped in her tracks, making you copy. you flung out of whatever trance you were stuck in and raised an eyebrow at logan, “what?”

“what? oh no i don’t know, maybe you’ve just never told me about a man you happen to know a lot about, and yet don’t know anything about. you sound insane- not in the ‘loony-bin way’, in the romcom way. it’s disgusting.”

you both continued to walk, climbing the stairs to the foyer of your building before she took back her bag and gave you the pocky, mumbling, “you need these more than me.”

the elevator ride was mostly silent, and that continued before you both unlocked your apartment doors right beside each other.

“you need to ask him out, if he doesn’t do it first.” she entered her apartment before you could speak, let alone think.

suddenly your apartment felt lonely.

so did spencer’s.

he was cross legged on his plush couch on a call with penelope garcia, she was squealing every second minute trying to create a plan for spencer to ask someone out.

“spence, you’re making this very hard. how am i supposed to be your coach if i only have half a team?”

“you can find someone’s address with half a fingerprint, i think you’ll be fine.” he takes a bite of his 2 minute bolognese.

“that takes the fun out of it. i can only give you tips if i know her personality.”

spencer sighed, and thought for a second, he could practically hear penelope’s growing smile knowing she had won.

“her names y/n.” garcia squealed. “she’s smart and pretty. and her favourite colour’s purple and she studies biology. she knows my groceries off my heart and she’s allergic to pollen. she works late at night at the convenience store two blocks away from my apartment building, and she likes old book stores. she’ll be introverted around an extroverted person, but extroverted around an introverted person. she can read my expressions faster than anyone else, she tries out different hairstyles when nobody’s in the store, and she’s funny.” spencer smiles to himself, “she’s pretty.”

“you mentioned that, lover boy.”

pt.4

taglist: @jeffswh0re @hypotheticallyspeakingwitch @trashmonstersara @wannabewolf @evysian @navs-bhat @mywellspringoflife @daphnesutton @smalls155 @amortencjja @anuncalledbridge @belsreid @redmurderbaby @tatilolz @criminalmindsandhouse @forensicuntology @nomajdetective @ilikw @screechingphantommaker

#criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #cm #spencer reid fic #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid series

[strawbeerossi]

August - Prologue

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid

Chapter Description: You look back on the way that you bonded with Spencer over the course of the time you've known him. After one night spent between you both, you tell the girls that you want to ask Spencer to Rossi's wedding. Too bad JJ had other plans.

Content/Warnings: Spoilers for 14x15, unrequited love, alcohol consumption, mentions of sex, JJ is a horrible friend (I’m so sorry), general heartbreak.

WC: 2.4K

Navigation || August Masterlist || Main Masterlist || Request

🏷️ @sadroses98

Spencer’s love life was a trainwreck. Everyone knew that after the Maeve debacle, dating wasn’t something that he was concerned with. He saw the horrible things that could happen to significant others of the BAU members. Haley dying, Jack being targeted, and Savannah being shot were things he’d seen first hand and he wasn’t eager to have a loved one go through any of it. He’d never forgive himself.

JJ was always special, in his eyes. Even whenever they were both young on the field together, he always pined after her. She was beautiful, funny, and she didn’t always look so bothered to talk to him. Of course, their failed attempt at a date to the Redskins game was just an indication that he should admire from afar. Besides, he’d like to have her in his life regardless. 

He maintained a healthy friendship with JJ over all fourteen years that he worked with the BAU, the woman being by his side even whenever he didn’t deserve it. It was something he wouldn’t trade for the world. He appreciated her, loving her so much that his heart swelled every time she came near him. He buried all those feelings deep in his heart, keeping quiet on the subject. It wasn’t the healthiest way to handle unspoken feelings but it was the easiest. Work would be awkward, plus she didn’t seem romantically interested. Best not to push.

Whenever you joined the BAU, you were blissfully unaware of Spencer’s feelings toward JJ, instead meeting a version of him that was so dedicated to bottling up those feelings. He was a bit standoffish with you at first, which you didn’t take personally. You’d heard of the endless trauma he’d been through and you felt like you had to work overtime to gain his trust.The problem was, you did damn near everything and it was like it wasn’t working.

You learned how he liked his coffee and brought him a cup every morning, you asked for facts about zany topics, you even mentioned Doctor Who in an effort to reach out to him. It was like he didn’t even want to look in your direction.

You managed to chip away at him over the next few months, getting him to laugh in certain circumstances or even having him greet you in the mornings. It was something that you had to work for but it was all worth it in the end whenever he’d gotten fully comfortable with you. He learned that he enjoyed talking to you, having you around.

The both of you had grown quite close to the point where every Friday that you weren’t on a case was spent having a movie night. He’d even taught you how to sew a scarf after too much trial and error. All the time you spent together was causing you to fall deeper in love with the lovable genius with each interaction. Every silly complaint about a show not being true to science, his rambles on topics that interested him, even when you two would get into arguments. 

It was no surprise that you’d fallen so fast. You wore your heart on your sleeve, yearning for a deep connection that nobody else could take away. Spencer was your person, you could feel it. There were daydreams of having a nice home with a big backyard for your kids, Spencer teaching them magic tricks or helping them excel in their academics. 

It was a Saturday night after a successful case that the team went out drinking together to celebrate. You may have let Penelope and Emily influence you into drinking your body weight in whatever liquor was put in front of you. Spencer hardly drank, however he allowed himself to have a few drinks, his tolerance being so low that he could feel a buzz after just one. 

You were too far gone to remember the events of the night but you did know that you and Spencer left together. The night was spent with drunken sex and whatever else you two got up to within the span of seven hours. You both woke up the next morning and it was still okay. There was no sneaking out when someone was sleeping, no forcing them out. You two actually spent a good portion of the morning together. The only issue? You got more attached. It was like you associated the sex with mutual feelings, the dream of actually finding someone to settle with. 

You’d gotten so caught up with the fantasy that you just had to tell the girls at work during one of your morning gossip sessions.

“I don’t know, I just feel like this could be the start of something great. I really do like him, he means the world to me. I just wish that I could say it.” You admitted, leaning against Penelope’s desk while sipping from your coffee mug. 

“Well, I say just go for it! Our genius needs to settle down.” Penelope encouraged, her eyes widening with excitement. “You two can have babies! I don’t think we could ever have enough BAU babies.” She gushed. 

JJ was laughing softly from her spot in the room at her friend’s excitement. “I mean, the worst he could really do is say no. No harm in trying to ask, right?” The blonde let her shoulders bounce. In a way, she could feel a pang of jealousy in her chest. You and Spencer? That didn’t seem right at all.

“He won’t say no! I am convinced he loves you! I mean, you always brighten his day.” Penelope was piling on encouragement, pushing you to take the bull by the horns and just get yourself out there, to put your feelings first.���Plus, you can invite him to Rossi’s wedding!”

It was safe to say that it was working. You felt a wave of confidence rush over you, taking it with stride. JJ had a point, Spencer wouldn’t be rude about turning you down. The pain would still be there in the event he did but at least he wouldn’t be cruel, right? 

“I’m gonna go talk to him about it. It’s a paperwork day, so it’ll be quiet.” Plus, she could just delve into files that needed to be filed away if he did let her down gently. It was the perfect plan!

You were planning on talking to him later in the afternoon, just enough time to give yourself a pep talk. However, Emily and Penelope killed that idea with a snap of a finger as a case had come up. It came with the territory of your job – make plans and have them destroyed by some loser who decided to massacre multiple people for the fun of it.

***

The case had taken a turn for the worse whenever JJ and Spencer were hot on the unsub’s trail, being locked inside a bank with no way to contact the outside world. The only thing anyone had was shitty footage from the security camera inside with no audio to accompany it. All you could do was assume what was happening as you stared at the screen, Emily beside you as she was talking to Penelope about getting anything if they could.

Their body language said it all though, the way that JJ seemed tense and the way Spencer had a look of… Relief? You didn’t know what was happening in the slightest but it was like you could feel your stomach churn, your heart slowly cracking. 

You didn’t want to assume it was anything too crazy, you didn’t need to worry. You were being silly. Once there were shots inside, everyone was rushing to the back door of the building to get inside. You were frozen in place, eyes focused on the room now filled with agents and cops. 

The sound of everyone talking was muffled, your mind somewhere else as you were slowly turning to the screen before approaching the two agents when they were coming out of the building. “Are you two okay?!” She asked quickly, a shaky edge to her voice as she was bringing a hand to her face. “This job stresses me out,” 

There was lighthearted, yet awkward laughter as you were eventually heading back to the SUVs. 

There was a tension hanging in the air any time that Spencer and JJ were together, the two barely sharing glances as the rest of the team were rejoicing and ending the case and preventing losing innocent people as well as potentially losing two of their best agents.

There was something wrong but you weren’t going to say anything.

Clearly something personal happened in the moment they were forced to play along with whatever the unsub wanted from them. You were curious but you didn’t want to bring it up, maybe out of fear of hearing something that you don't wanna hear. 

You didn’t ask Spencer to be your date to Dave’s wedding, instead going on your own.

The whole environment there made you sad. You were thrilled for Dave and Krystall but it was an atmosphere oozing with love while you were alone, the man you wanted to ask being weird and not speaking to you the way he usually did. There was a lot you wondered about. 

Did you do something wrong? Was he angry at you? More questions echoed in your mind, feeling defeated on how such a good relationship has fizzled out to nothing. 

You were brought out of your thoughts whenever Penelope was passing out whatever concoction of drink she came up with. “Here you go, sour puss.” The blonde spoke while placing the mixed drink in front of you at the bar, you offering a small smile in response. 

“It’s a good day, don’t be sad in the corner all night.” Luke added soon after while you were waving it off. He didn’t know the extent of why you felt the way you did. He just knew that you had been in a funk for days, not being your usual self.

“I’m not sad. I’m just.. I’m not really in the mood.” It was honest, however you knew that you had to show up for Dave, he was family. You would’ve done the same for anyone else in the team for whatever event. 

In the midst of your denial, your gaze had fallen on Spencer and JJ, the two talking together at a table farther from the rest of you. It could’ve been some deep, poorly concealed anger that had you putting the cup down and walking over to the two who seemed to be having a great time together. You were falling apart and it was like he wasn’t even paying attention. It stung. 

“Spencer! JJ!” You announced your presence with a smile, your hands clasping together. “I didn’t get to come talk to you guys earlier. I wanted to say hi.” You began. “Also, why are you two isolated from the team?! Come on!” 

What felt like a knife to your chest was the way Spencer looked at you with a lack of interest, almost as if your presence was bothersome. “Oh, we were just talking. We are fine, we will catch up later.” The male answered, hoping the answer was good enough to be left alone again.

That was the moment you broke.

“What the hell have I done to you? You’ve been dodging my calls and texts for days and you barely talk to me anymore. What is your deal?” In an attempt to not ruin the beautiful ceremony, you were keeping a calm demeanor. Even if you could feel the cracks in the facade. 

“What? Nothing! You’re acting like a child. I’m just having a conversation.” Spencer frowned, his attention finally on you for the first time in days. “You act like we talk every minute of the day.”

“Because we normally do! Come on, Spencer. Just talk to me.” You were begging for a minute of his time, an explanation. For days you’d questioned every interaction and every word said. You thought your relationship was stronger than that.

“I am talking to you. I don’t know what else I’m supposed to say.” 

JJ looked visibly uncomfortable with the whole interaction, so that’s whenever you were turning your attention to her. “And you, I’ve been trying to talk to you for days and you don’t give me the time of day. What is happening? Do you both have a problem with me?”

“Look-” 

“No! She has a point, Spencer. I’ll be honest with her.” JJ finally found her voice, although the nervousness was gone now, instead just taking the situation for what it is. “I’m sorry,” The words made your knees weak. 

You knew what was coming. 

“The other day, the key to us getting out of there and preventing any injuries, I played truth or dare. Which, I know what you’re thinking but it wasn’t a childish game in the slightest.” She said slowly while you watched her in disbelief.

“Anyway, I was told to give a secret that I’d never tell anyone else. Something I’d take to the grave and-” 

“You told Spencer that you loved him.” You finished, throat tight as you were restraining the urge to either sob or scream at the blonde. “It’s just funny that this all came out after I told you what I wanted to do. You never showed him the time of day before.” 

“I don’t think you pay enough attention. Spencer has always been my best friend and we spend time together alone quite frequently. Just because you had sex one time doesn’t mean that you both were in an unspoken relationship.” JJ responded, having the audacity to act as if she didn’t break girl code to the highest degree. 

There were a few moments of silence, every intrusive thought bouncing through your mind. Your gaze was briefly turning to David and Krystall, seeing the two happily talking with guests before you were tuning your head to the pair in front of you. 

You reached over for the glass of water that one of them ended up putting down, hand clutching the glass before you made the wise decision of throwing water in their direction, the glass emptying on the both of them before the same glass was being placed down on the table. 

Without a word, you turned on your heels so you could walk away from the two. The reception was over for you, no feeling of celebration. You leaving with tears brimming your eyes caught the attention of the small group of agents, the group now turning their heads briefly to look at Spencer and JJ.

“Oh no..” Penelope frowned, the normally bubbly blonde turning to Tara, Luke and Matt.

“Something tells me that JJ and Spencer are talking..”

#spencer reid #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid fandom #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #dr spencer reid #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #doctor spencer reid #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid series #criminal minds au

[sweetestspence]

" and then there were two "

summary: the bau recruits a new agent whose credentials arguably match their very own boy wonder’s pairing: s1!spencer reid x f!reader genre: fluff wc : 2.5k

part of the holy ground series.

“Did you hear? About the new agent?” Elle enters the bullpen with Derek, slinging an arm around his shoulders in an attempt to pull him closer. She keeps her voice just loud enough for him to hear, but it catches the attention of the agents that walk past them. Whispers of a new BAU team member had been lingering around the office for the past few days, especially one of this particular agent’s caliber.

“You heard too- What do you have over there Reid?” Derek’s train of thought had been cut of thought had been cut off the second the pair reached Spencer’s desk, the young man’s attention transfixed on a smooth stone between his fingers.

Spencer looks up, but keeps the pebble in his palm. “I picked it up from the beach a couple of days ago, I thought it looked nice so-”

“That pebble has been within a few feet of a dead body and you still picked it up?” Elle teases, cutting him off and taking the stone for him palm, bringing it up to her eye-level to ‘examine’. “It’s a strange shape though, I’ll give you that.”

Elle returns the rock back to Spencer which he places atop his desk. “You two were talking about the new agent… What- what do you think they’re like?”

Derek shrugs his shoulders. “I didn’t hear anything from Hotch or JJ, other than she’s coming in today.”

“Thank god another woman around, I was worried that we’d always be outnumbered by you four.” Elle breathes an exaggerated sigh of relief before continuing, “All I heard was the agent graduated early and worked in law for a bit.”

“You two definitely heard a lot more than I did.” Spencer’s brows furrow, his mind filled with questions of the new addition to their team. He didn’t even know they were looking for recruits, his eyes scan around the bullpen, drifting from Elle and Derek as he searched for an unfamiliar face. 

And he finds one. Standing by the doorway. You looked nervous. You’re biting the inside of cheek, your eyes scanning around the bullpen in search of a familiar figure. Possibly Hotch. You keep to yourself, as if you’re afraid of taking too much space. But it feels like a front, you’re just in an unfamiliar environment. It isn’t until Derek snaps his fingers in front of his face that he drops his train of thought. If you were the newest addition to the team, he probably shouldn’t be profiling you. 

“Did pretty boy find himself a pretty girl?” Derek laughs, following Spencer’s gaze. 

“She just looks new that’s all.” Spencer quickly averts his eyes to the rock on his desk, but it’s too late. Elle had caught on and managed to see you waiting by the door as well. 

She crosses her arms and quickly looks at you before looking back at Spencer. “Looks like you found our new agent.”

You take a couple of deep breaths before fully committing to entering the bullpen. Three people had just looked at you before returning to their conversation. You know you should probably find your unit chief first, and he’d be the one to make introductions for you. But it wouldn’t hurt to introduce yourself… right? You couldn’t ponder on the question for too long as your feet seemed to have a mind of their own, moving in the direction of Spencer’s desk where he, Derek, and Elle are.

“Hi!” You smiled, reaching a hand out for them to shake. “I’m Y/n, I’m supposed to be starting in the BAU today.”

Spencer raises a brow. You didn’t introduce yourself as an agent, only your first name. He shares a look with Elle who only shakes her head at him, as if telling him not to read into it too much. 

Derek shakes your hand. “Derek Morgan.”

“Elle Greenaway. Really nice to meet you, Y/n. I apologize we were not being subtle at all.” Elle laughs.

“Don’t worry-” You wave off her apology with a small smile, but before you could continue speaking, Derek cuts you off.

“Used to being stared at from across a room? You don’t seem like the type who buys her own drinks at the bar.” He smirks, exaggeratedly checking you out to prove his point. 

Elle rolls her eyes and gently shoves his side. “Cool it, Morgan. She’s new.” 

“It’s fine.” You nod your head towards the person directly in front of you, turning your attention turns towards the only one who hasn’t introduced himself. 

Instead of offering his hand to shake, Spencer simply offers you a sheepish smile. “Dr. Spencer Reid.”

“Doctor. Cool.” 

Your brows shoot up in surprise and Spencer searches for any sign of derision or contempt in your tone and expression. He’s used to getting such anytime he’s introduced himself to anyone older, even more so around people his age; which you seemed to be.

But you seemed to be genuinely impressed. Instead of asking a follow up question on how someone as young as him could possibly have the title of doctor attached to his name, you nod towards the small rock on his desk. 

“Most people decorate their desks with pictures, or maybe even little figurines. May I?”

Spencer gestures that you go ahead and you take the rock from his desk, examining it in a similar way that Elle had a few minutes prior.

“Anyone who would willingly want to work at the BAU isn’t going to be like most people.” Derek quips. “If it’s colorful things you’re after I’m more than willing to take you on a little field trip to our technical analyst’s office.”

“I think it’s neat though.” You move to return the pebble back, but Spencer holds a hand up, effectively stopping you in your tracks.

“You can have it if you want. You can, um,” he pauses before pushing your hand back towards you, his skin not actually touching yours, “consider it a welcome gift. Besides I think I picked up a couple more.”

“You know, male penguins offer rocks as a gift to woo female penguins… So if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were flirting with me.” You attempt to sound nonchalant, but there’s a hint of a teasing tone that laced your words. “On my very first day too.”

Spencer’s lips part, at a loss for words. He scratches the back of his head, trying to look at everything but you. “I, um- no, I wasn’t- I just thought-”

You chuckle at his cheeks turning the slightest shade of pink, but decide to quell his embarrassment. “Relax, Dr. Reid. I was kidding.”

“So male penguins don’t do that?” Elle asks, turning to you.

“Well they do, actually.” Spencer answers the question for you, chiming in without a second thought. “The female penguins often use the rocks to build a kind of nest.”

Derek’s gaze quickly travels between you and Spencer. “How do either of you even know about that?”

“I read about it.” Spencer shrugs.

“Yeah, that checks out.” Derek mumbles, but his words are clear enough that it makes Elle chuckle and shake her head. He turns to you, “And Y/n?”

“I couldn’t sleep one night and a nature documentary was the only thing remotely interesting on.” 

Elle leans closer towards Derek and turns away from you and Spencer, speaking in a low enough voice that only he could hear. “Oh god, looks like we have two of them now.”

Before you could even ask about it, Hotchner has already managed to walk towards your little group. “Briefing room. You can continue your introductions there. JJ’s got a case for us.”

All four of you know better than to do anything that isn’t following Hotch to the briefing room. JJ had already set up an extra chair for you, and you wait for everyone to take their seats before you take the available space between Morgan and Elle. 

“Agent L/n.” Hotch bring’s everyone’s attention towards you as soon as he’s noticed you settle in your seat. “I believe you’ve met agents Morgan, Greenaway and doctor Reid. This is SSA Jason Gideon. JJ, our liaison. And Penelope Garcia, our technical analyst.”

“I’m excited to work with everyone. Thank you for having me.” You greet, sitting-up a little straighter, a tight-lipped smile spreading across your face. 

“Oh don’t be so nervous, sweetheart. Your work’s impressive-”

“Garcia, you already looked her up?” Derek asks, but there isn’t a single ounce of shock in his voice or expression.

“Honey, whispers of a new agent? Of course, I looked her up.” Penelope responds, twirling her sparkly pen around. “Not only did cutie over here graduate early every single time, she did a double degree for her undergrad. Also got a near perfect score on the LSAT, passed the bar in the top ten, and currently trying to get a doctorate in sociology.”

You blink back at her, you weren’t even planning to go into detail about your background to the team. Before you could even ask her how she was able to find out, Gideon speaks up from across the table.

“A lawyer? Prosecutor?”

You nod. “Didn’t even last a full year. I always felt like I could be doing more, you know? Applied to join the FBI, worked in the field for a bit, and now here I am.”

Nobody misses the flash of recognition in Hotch’s eyes. After all, it’s a familiar story. But no one presses further. 

“Garcia, when you said near-perfect score…” JJ trails off, her eyes trained on Penelope. 

“Very near.” Penelope turns to you with a smile, seemingly proud despite just having met you. “179.” 

“It’s not really something I go around telling people.” You avoid eye contact with the rest of the team and look down at your lap, fiddling with your thumbs from underneath the table. Despite this, you could still feel everyone’s gaze on you. 

“You should. Hell, I would.” Derek jokes before looking between you and Spencer. “Trying to get a doctorate too. We’ve got a matching set of boy wonder and girl wonder over here.” 

“We’ll be introducing you as Dr. L/n pretty soon, huh?” Elle leans closer towards you, gently hitting your shoulder and causing you to look up at her. 

You smile sheepishly at the rest of the team. “I wouldn’t know about soon. I’ve actually been struggling to finish my dissertation.”

Spencer’s lips part. He feels the need to say something, perhaps some words of encouragement. Maybe he could even offer to help you with your work. Especially considering he had also gone through the process of getting a doctorate. Thrice, in fact. But before he could get a single word out, Hotch’s voice is already filling the briefing room.

“I’m sure we’ll get to know more about agent L/n in the coming days. For now, we have a case to get to.”

___

“This one is yours.” JJ leads you to your desk in the bullpen. Despite it being apparently unoccupied, there's a few piles of folders and loose pieces of paper strewn around. “If you need anything, just let me or Hotch- or the rest of the team really- know. I’ll let you settle in, but remember wheels up in thirty.”

“Got it. Thanks JJ.”

“No problem.” 

You take out a couple of things you know you’d want on your desk from your bag; a couple of cute pen holders, some post-its, a couple of pictures. You feel around your bag and take out a book you were reading. You were wondering why you felt like your bag was unusually heavy. Then again, you were zooming around your apartment earlier in the day as you had slept through your alarm. As a result, you pretty much grabbed the first bag you saw and haphazardly stuffed your things inside.

“Neil Gaiman?”

You hear someone ask from beside you.

“Huh?”

Spencer is standing by your desk, eyes trained on the book in your hand. He tilts his head over across the small aisle that separated yours and his desks and stuffs his hands in the pockets of his pants. “Mine is just over there. It’s hard to miss, people don’t usually bring non case related things to read.”

“Oh, right I actually forgot this was here… I was going to join this book club and I was really excited about it too. But I just found out their meetings coincide with work hours, so now I’ve read this nearly 500 page fantasy novel and no one to talk to about it.”

A beat passes. Then another. A small surge of nervousness goes through your veins. It almost feels like you were oversharing. You were just introduced to the team, they probably didn’t need to know much about what you do outside of work. 

“You can discuss it with me, if you’d like.” He briefly looks down at his feet, almost as if he’s carefully picking his next words. And he was. You were new, but you seemed nice enough. And he didn't mind the idea of taking a breather from discussing cases to discussing books, without said books having to do with a case. He didn't exactly want to come off too strong. “I like to read too. Have you finished?”

“Almost.” You click your tongue, considering his offer. Spencer shifts his weight from side to side, anticipating a response. The corners of your mouth twitches upwards at his earnestness. “That would be nice actually… how much time do you need to finish it? A couple of days or…?”

Spencer takes the book from your desk, flipping through the pages, considering the font size, the writing style. He even raises a brow when he notices the highlights and notes you’ve made across the margins. He hands it back to you with a small smile. “Give or take fifteen minutes.”

“You’re kidding.” You don’t even bother to hide the shock that’s plastered on your face. He’s a profiler, he would have noticed anyway. You flip through the pages yourself, trying to figure out if he was referring to a different book. 

“I’m not.” Spencer shrugs his shoulders. “I mean I would have to buy a copy of my own first, which would have to wait until after the case.”

“Wow.” You let out a low whistle, more impressed than you had been earlier. “I guess it’s settled then. Let me know when you’ve eventually used up those fifteen minutes.”

“Okay, I will.”

“I look forward to it, Dr. Reid.”

“I do too, Agent L/n.”

Penelope Garcia and Derek Morgan watch the interaction from across the bullpen. Derek’s gaze follows Reid as he makes the short walk back to his desk. Spencer scratches the back of his head before quickly looking back across the aisle to where you were sitting. But of course, you were too busy getting your things in order to notice. 

Derek keeps his voice low as he leans closer towards Penelope, crossing his arms across his chest. “Fifty bucks says pretty boy and girl wonder are going to get it on. He confesses first.”

Penelope notices you taking what looks to be a pebble from your pocket and place it by your pen holder, a soft smile spreading across your face as you looked towards Spencer. “Alright. I’ll take that action.”

taglist. @vader-is-hot @akimoons @taygrls <3

a/n. s1 spencer holds a soft spot in my heart goshh anyways- hii! i hope you enjoyed reading this- you know, despite it being mostly introductions >_< thank you for checking it out, and i hope u all have a good day :)

#filed : holy ground. #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid series #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x y/n #criminal minds series

[eideticallys]

Who Needs Time Management When I Have You?

pairing: spencer reid x reader

summary: one of the many perks of having a boyfriend with flawless memory is that you do not have to remember stuff—he remembers them for you.

genre: tooth-rotting domestic fluff

word count: 1.5k

author's notes: i wrote this because domestic!spencer reid is a guilty pleasure of mine. i can definitely picture him as an attentive boyfriend because aside from the fact that he has flawless memory, he's an overall caring guy. with that said, i hope you'll enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed writing this! also posted on ao3 (spencereids).

ONE OF THE MANY PERKS OF HAVING A BOYFRIEND WITH FLAWLESS MEMORY IS THAT YOU DO NOT HAVE TO REMEMBER STUFF—HE REMEMBERS THEM FOR YOU. Do you have a dentist's appointment at 9? Covered. He will be waking you up at 7 with breakfast in bed. Your sister’s birthday is coming up. No worries! He has already ordered a bouquet ready to be sent on the day. It is amazing, and you thank your lucky stars for him every morning when you wake up and see him cozily sleeping beside you.

However, you were out of luck on the boyfriend angle today. You had your monthly—or if the BAU is free—girls' night scheduled tonight. As much as you enjoy having girls' nights with the BAU girls, Spencer also likes to spend some time out with the guys for a nightcap or something, whatever the men at the BAU enjoy when there is no case. And that means, your boyfriend is busy getting ready to go out as well. Although Spencer has never forgotten a thing in his life—even when he is on the brink of life and death—you do not want to stress him out even more by asking him what you think you have forgotten to prepare.

So, today when you were running around the house like a madman trying to collect the stuff you need to bring to Garcia’s for girls' night, you have no one else to blame but yourself. You have depended on your boyfriend to remember stuff for you that you always leave the preparation at the very last minute. At the moment, you believe you’ve never hated yourself as much as you did now, which is quite the feat considering that you’ve hated yourself a lot before for chickening out on confessing your feelings to boy wonder—your boyfriend, Spencer Reid—only to find out he shares the same feelings.

Scratch that, you hate your boyfriend right now more than you hate yourself.

Currently, that same boyfriend has been snickering nonstop at you dashing left and right and gathering the things you need to bring. Face masks? Check. Wine? Check. What else were you forgetting?

“You know, there’s this study that says only 82% of people have a time management system.” 

Your ever-loving boyfriend, Spencer, decided to share. You were about to chuck the throw pillow at him because you could hear the I told you so in his voice, but you knew his fact-sharing and nagging was his unique way of saying, “I love you, but you could’ve remedied this problem by preparing the stuff you’ll need the night before.”

“No, I don’t, Spence. But, do tell.” 

At this point, you’re pretty sure Spencer was sporting a shit-eating grin and was probably holding in a laugh at the strain in your voice from recalling whether you’ve got everything so you can head over to Garcia’s. You’re pretty sure Garcia is about to talk your ear off if you’re running late. You missed out on the last girls' night after you bailed on them, wanting to spend the night with Spencer, watching Star Wars, and eating takeout.

“There's a survey done recently which revealed that 90% of people say better time management can lead to increased productivity.” Spencer started explaining, hands waving around as if to demonstrate the numbers in front of him. “However, only 18% of people have a proper time management system.”

“And?” 

“Well, it just reminded me of you.” Spencer pursed his lips now, as he tried to explain his thoughts without annoying you. “If you just had a proper time management system like a to-do list or a planner. You could save at least..” He stared at his watch and did the math, “You could save at least one hour and forty-three minutes of your time instead of panicking over whether you got all the things you need for girls' night.”

“I don’t need that when I have you. Don’t you think so?”

This made your boyfriend blush, and you giggled, heading towards his direction, so you could wrap your hands around his waist and bury your face into his chest. You were the luckiest person alive for getting to date someone as wonderful as Spencer.

What you just said would not have made anyone flush and nervous, but Spencer was different. You knew he’s never been in a formal relationship with anyone before you. Thus, from time to time, he still gets embarrassed by your antics which you’ll always be endeared by. You live to see your boyfriend getting flustered because it gives you a reason to shower him with affection like now.

“I love you too, Spence.”

You looked up at your boyfriend, who looked like he was about to burst from your directness. You and he may deal with a lot of blood and gore during work, but he can be the most fainthearted person alive when it came to your affections.

“B-but I didn’t say I love you..” He trailed off, confused as to why you were suddenly proclaiming your love for him. You grinned even more as you pinched the tip of his nose.

“You didn’t have to, Spence. I know your nagging is one way of you saying you love me, and I love you for that.” 

Spencer scrunched his nose and rubbed the back of his neck out of shyness. If you could keep him in your pocket for safekeeping, you would. He’s just too precious for this world.

“But, as much as I love you, I know just as much that Penelope will have my ass kicked by Emily if I get to her house late,” you broke free from your boyfriend’s comfy arms, checking the bags you packed while doing so. “I have to go, baby. I think I got everything I need.”

Picking up your bag and care package, you ruffled your boyfriend’s brown locks, which made him frown a bit and sigh. You snickered at his reaction and proceeded to walk towards the front door. You were about to reach the staircase just outside your shared apartment when you realized something. 

You forgot your car keys.

Berating yourself in your head, you were certain once you entered that door, Spencer would be on your case like a mother duck. He can be too fretful when it comes to you. Oh well, that is one thing you love about him. Huffing, you slowly turned the doorknob and found Spencer leaning on the wall just inside the door with his arms crossed, looking at you smugly. You rolled your eyes.

One thing about Spencer Reid is he can be a cocky little shit when proven right. And that happens most—if not all—the time, with his IQ of 187 and eidetic memory. Unfortunately for him, he also happened to date a cocky little shit—you—who likes to fluster the living lights out of him. And right now, you just thought of the perfect way to get back at him.

But first, your car keys. Spencer next.

Once you have retrieved the pesky item—like it’s the car keys’ fault, you forgot to get them—you turned towards the door, not paying any attention to your boyfriend, who was already cracking up at you. Only when you’ve reached the door, your back towards Spencer, did you smirk. Oh, he’ll never know what’s coming to him. You did a U-turn and 

“Forgot something, sweetheart?”

“Why, yes I did, Dr. Reid,” you stated plainly, beelining towards him, making him take a few steps back until he ended up with his back against the wall. He's so easy to fluster. "I forgot to do this."

You slanted your head and pressed your lips against his. Your bodies were snug against each other as you kissed heatedly against the wall. You could feel the flutter of his long lashes against your cheeks as he parted his lips slightly to kiss you deeper. You could taste your shared breath, smell his faint perfume, and feel the slight scruff of a stubble about to show up. Warmth blossomed in your chest when you felt Spencer caress your face as if you were fine porcelain.

Kissing Spencer Reid never gets old in your books. Despite his lack of romantic experience and being the eager researcher that he was, Spencer was an eager lover—he would kiss you every chance he'd get to know how to please you, which paid off, by the way. This may be a biased opinion but you think the best kisses you have shared were with Spencer.

However, like all good things, kissing Spencer has to end, or Garcia will have you banned from her house for running late.

You pulled away from Spencer and grinned at him, to which he returned with a stunned smile. You chuckled when you noticed your lipstick smudged on the corner of his lips and brushed a finger to erase it. You wouldn't want your boyfriend to be the subject of Morgan's teasing once they're together after this. Noticing the daze your boyfriend is under is about to wear off, and he was about to say something, you beat him to it by pressing a smooch on his nose and pulling away completely. 

"I gotta go, Dr. Reid. Don't miss me too much!"

You scampered towards the door and shot a wink at your bewildered boyfriend—who was now sputtering in indignation for interrupting what he was about to say. He is so cute.

#criminal minds #criminal minds series #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fic #spencer reid #dr. spencer reid #spencer reid fandom #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #spencer reid smut #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x you #tooth rotting fluff #domestic bliss #established relationship

[sunsetreid]

back to school night [ s. reid ]

— part one !

part of the ‘ back to school night ‘ series

paring : teacher!Spencer Reid x single mom!reader

summary : Spencer is your daughter’s elementary school teacher, and they finally meet at back to school night

requested : no

genre : fluff & smut

warnings : age gap (8 years), some language, explicit sexual content, slight hair pulling, fingering, oral (f & m receiving), protected sex, p in v penetration, use of some pet names

【 18+ CONTENT BELOW (minors dni !) 】

She is so late to back to school night.

This was in her calendar for the past two weeks and she managed to still be late. Her 8-year-old daughter Cassia is too preoccupied with her tablet in the back to notice just how late the two of them actually are.

Back to school night started at 7. It’s thirty minutes past the start time. (Y/N) has probably missed most of the parent meeting already. If it weren't for how excited Cassia was for her mother to finally meet her teacher, she would have happily stayed home and watched a Disney movie with her daughter.

Cassia’s father usually does drop off because the school is on the way to his work so (Y/N) has never met her daughter’s third grade teacher. Until tonight.

Being late is such a good first impression.

As soon as she finds a parking spot and turns the car engine off, (Y/N) quickly gathers her things and Cassia before rushing inside.

“Cassie, which way to your classroom?” she asks her daughter. Cassia points down a hallway so she grabs her hand and heads down.

When (Y/N) and Cassia walk inside, they are greeted by dozens of eyes. The man who is leaning over one of the desks and is pointing something out looks up at them.

Cassia lets go of her mother’s hand and runs over to the man, who (Y/N) notices is dressed in a button-up and tie with dress pants. His hair is on the longer side but he still looks handsome.

“Doctor Reid!” Cassia exclaims as she throws herself at him and gives him a hug. “Look who came with me today.”

The man — Dr. Reid — smiles at Cassia before looking up at (Y/N). “That cannot be your mother, Cassie,” he says. His hazel eyes meet hers and she feels a warm sensation spread throughout her body.

A sensation she hasn’t felt since having Cassia.

“It is!” an excited Cassia replies. “That’s my mom.”

Dr. Reid tells Cassia that her classmates are down the hall with the snacks. She runs out of the room and Dr. Reid looks up at (Y/N).

Immediately, she begins to apologize when Dr. Reid turns to face her. “I am so sorry that I’m late,” she says. “I lost track of time when Cass asked me when we were leaving for back-to-school night and I just-”

“You can relax, Miss (L/N),” Dr. Reid laughs. “No need to ramble. I understand very well how easy it is to lose track of time. I can give you a quick rundown of how the classroom works as soon as I'm done with the presentation.”

A sigh of relief passes her lips. “Thank you, Doctor Reid,” she replies.

“First of all, you can call me Spencer,” he replies. She smiles. “I’d also like to say that your daughter is one of my most energized and enthusiastic students. She is always participating in lessons and offering to help others. I love to see that kind of participation in the classroom.”

(Y/N) nods. “Cassia loves to learn,” she tells Spencer. “When her father drops her off after school, she always tells me about the things that she did that day and the facts that you tell her. I think you have actually made her want to learn even more than she already did.”

Spencer laughs and looks down at his feet like he’s shy about compliments. “I know too much and sometimes I tell my students,” he replies with a small smile on his lips. “Especially if it relates to the lesson. I have an eidetic memory and I’m always reading so I remember a lot of stupid facts.”

“That’s kind of cool,” (Y/N) says. “I mean, I’d love to know all these little random facts.”

A light blush coats Spencer’s cheeks. “Um, I actually have to get back to presenting but I’d still love to give you that rundown I promised you after.”

She nods and finds Cassia’s desk. She sits down and watches Spencer get back to presenting.

(Y/N)’s eyes don’t leave Spencer the entire time he is in front of the classroom. He looks professional while also having a goofy vibe, but he sounds like he knows what he’s talking about. He seems pretty confident while standing in front of his students' parents.

Not to mention, he is very handsome. She has never met a nerdy guy who's also as attractive as Spencer is.

When she finds out about his three PhDs and two BAs, he immediately becomes twice as attractive. Intelligence is attractive to her, and Spencer is certainly intelligent.

By 24, he had five degrees and now he’s teaching at an elementary school. (Y/N) is 24 now and she’s a single mother working at a hospital as a part-time nurse with one degree in nursing and struggling to make ends meet.

Parents clap when Spencer is done with his presentation. He takes a couple of questions before the principal comes over the loudspeaker to say that there are snacks and drinks in the cafeteria for those who are interested, need to ask more questions, or just want to hang around and mingle.

Everyone in the room leaves and goes down to the cafeteria while (Y/N) stays behind so she can talk to Spencer a little more to get a sense of how his class will be run.

“That was a nice presentation, from the ten minutes I actually saw,” she teases.

Spencer smiles and closes his laptop. “Well, walk with me to the cafeteria and we can chat,” he tells her. “I’m sure Cassia would love to hang out for a bit while I tell you all about the class.”

"Absolutely she would," she replies.

(Y/N) stays behind and watches Spencer pack his laptop away in his bag. He stuffs some folders inside as well before motioning for her to head to the door so he can lock up the room.

As they begin the trek to the cafeteria, Spencer says, "I don't mean to sound rude or intrude, but you seem really young to have a daughter in the third grade."

"I had Cassia when I was 16," she tells Spencer. "I got pregnant after I got drunk and hooked up with a football player after a game. I'm 24 now and I have full custody of her because her father and I are no longer together, but I let her father bring her to and from school while also spending a few days a week with her."

Spencer looks shocked at (Y/N)'s confession. It's not really a confession at this point. She tells that story to anyone who asks. She's grown so used to saying that she had a baby at 16 that it doesn't even faze her anymore.

"Well, I give you props on raising such a wonderful daughter as a single mother," Spencer replies. "I can't even begin to imagine."

"It took a lot out of me at first but we fell into a routine after the custody battle," (Y/N) explains as they walk into the cafeteria. She spots her daughter playing with some of her classmates and she smiles. "If I could do it all over again, I would. I don't regret having a baby in high school at all."

One of the other parents grabs Spencer's attention and he apologetically walks away with a promise to come back so they can continue their conversation.

(Y/N)'s eyes don't leave Spencer as he walks away with the parent who approached him. He pushes his hair behind his ear and flattens the tie as he nods. His side profile is one of the prettiest that (Y/N) has ever seen.

“Mom, you’re staring,” Cassia’s little voice says to pull her out of her head.

Her cheeks heat up and she shakes her head. “I wasn’t staring.”

“Yes you were! I saw you staring at my teacher,” Cassia tells her mother. A little gasp comes from her. “Aw, do you like like Doctor Reid?”

“Cassia,” (Y/N) sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose. “It’s very inappropriate for me to ‘like’ your teacher. I am your mother, and he is your teacher..”

Cassia rolls her eyes. “All I did was ask a question,” she says. “I didn’t need a lecture.” (Y/N) looks up and sees Spencer walking over. “Oh. I wanted to ask if I could stay at Brynn’s house tonight. Her mom said it’s okay.”

“It’s a school night.”

“Brynn literally is in my class, mom,” Cassia replies. “I want to stay. Please? I promise we won’t stay up late.”

Honestly, a night to herself doesn’t sound like a bad idea. A glass of wine and Law & Order sounds like a good night.

“There are studies that show that sleepovers can help independence in children,” Spencer says. “Sorry, I couldn’t help but overhear the question.”

Cassia points at Spencer to prove a point. (Y/N) just shakes her head and smiles. “Fine,” she tells Cassia. “I want you home right after school tomorrow.”

She celebrates and runs off. (Y/N) laughs and looks up at Spencer. “Well now that your night is free, mind if I take you out for a late dinner and that rundown I had promised you? If you haven’t eaten, of course.”

(Y/N) is caught off guard by the question. “I, um …” she trails off. “Do you think that’s a good idea? I mean, you’re my daughter’s teacher. I don’t want her to be accused of favoritism because her mother went to dinner with her teacher.”

“Well, I promise you that I will keep treating Cassia the same way I treat her peers,” Spencer assures (Y/N). “What do you say?”

There’s a little smile on Spencer’s face. That and the confidence he had to ask is the whole reason she says, “Okay, as long as you promise to keep treating Cassia as an equal to her classmates.”

Spencer nods and smiles. “Meet you at Fiola after you drop off Cassia at her friend’s house? My treat,” he says.

(Y/N) mirrors his smile and nods. “Give me a half hour and I’ll meet you there,” she replies. “I just need to get Cassia to Brynn’s and I’ll head over.”

“Mom!” Cassia calls. “Hurry up! Brynn’s mom said she is leaving soon.”

“So, um, see you in half an hour?” she asks. Spencer nods and (Y/N) quickly runs off to her daughter.

There’s a warm feeling in the pit of (Y/N)’s stomach as she and Cassia get in the car. There is a feeling of nervousness as she drives to her apartment that she has and lives in with Cassia.

It’s not a date, but she is nervous like it is. Who knows? Maybe this will turn into something more. Something that (Y/N) has never had before.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

It’s a little after eight when (Y/N) drops Cassia off at her friend’s. She snuck a dress into the car with her so she quickly stops at a convenience store to change on her way to the restaurant.

All she knows about Fiola is that it’s a very upscale restaurant that she could never afford to eat at. She couldn’t show up in a t-shirt and jeans. Even Spencer was dressed nicer than she was.

A little before 8:30 and (Y/N) is walking into the restaurant. The hostess greets her with a smile and asks, “How can I help you today?”

“I’m looking for someone who should’ve been here by now,” she stammers. “Um, the name is Spencer Reid.”

The hostess checks something in front of her and nods with some kind of confirmation. “Right this way, miss,” she says.

She turns and walks into the dining room, weaving between tables. (Y/N) sighs and is brought to the table for two that Spencer is sitting at. “Let me know if you need anything,” the hostess tells (Y/N) when she sits down across from Spencer.

As soon as the hostess walks away, (Y/N)’s eyes turn to Spencer. “Uh, wow,” he blurts out. “I didn’t think you would change for dinner.”

“Felt a little underdressed,” she replies. “Especially for here. I changed quickly after I dropped Cassia off. No biggie.”

Spencer laughs in reply.

Their waiter comes over to take (Y/N)’s order since Spencer had already ordered before she got there. He thanks them both, takes her menu, and walks away to put the orders in.

“So,” (Y/N) sighs. “Do you do this for all the parents who are late to back to school night?”

Spencer smiles behind his glass of water and shakes his head. “Only the pretty ones,” he replies. (Y/N)’s cheeks heat up as she sips her wine. “So, the class will be run similarly to how other classes are run. The day starts at eight, sitting down fifteen minutes for the first lesson. We study English, math, social studies, and science every day spending roughly 90 minutes on each subject. Art is on Mondays around ten, gym is on Thursdays at one, music is on Fridays at ten, and this year we’re starting a technology class that will be on Tuesdays. I’m thinking Wednesdays will be a third grade only thing where the students can ask me questions about whatever they want to know and I’ll answer it the best way that I can. I might call it ‘Dr. Reid Responds’ or something along those lines.”

“That’s such a nice concept,” (Y/N) says when Spencer is done talking. “I meant it earlier when I said that Cass comes home everyday and tells me the facts you tell them through the day. She loves it and already adores you.”

He lets out a light chuckle. “Well I adore Cassia,” he says. “I mean it. We’re only three weeks into the year but she is easily my best student. She is so interested in the material. She reminds me of me when I was her age.”

“She’s a special little girl,” (Y/N) responds after she swallows a sip of wine. “She’s so enthusiastic about everything. Including school.”

Spencer nods in agreement.

There’s a quick moment of silence between the two of them, but it’s not awkward. It’s a comfortable silence. She just looks across the table at Spencer and takes him in while she swirls the wine around in her glass.

He really is handsome. His longer brown hair frames his face perfectly. His hazel eyes almost match the color of his hair. He has high cheekbones and (Y/N) remembers the jawline she saw earlier that day.

“Um, Cassia said you were a nurse,” Spencer says. “Where are you a nurse?”

“Sibley Memorial,” she replies. “I work part-time in the emergency department but I’m trying to get a full-time position.”

“That’s incredible. You save lives all the time.”

(Y/N) chuckles and takes a sip of her drink hoping that it keeps her cheeks from beating up. “I try my best to,” she replies. “I save some, I lose some. It comes with the job. I knew that going in.”

Their meals come shortly after. The pasta dishes that they both ordered look incredible. After one bite, (Y/N) wishes she could take it to Vegas to marry it.

It’s quiet between the two of them while they enjoy the food. (Y/N) loves it and finds herself wishing that she could bring Cassia here.

Maybe one day when she makes enough money to buy a dinner like this for the two of them without costing them a week or groceries or utilities.

“So, Mr. Eidetic Memory,” (Y/N) begins as soon as she is done eating. “You probably could have chosen any career in the world. Why did you choose teaching when you could’ve been working for the FBI or something?”

Spencer laughs and wipes his face free of sauce. “I wanted to make a difference in the lives of those around me,” he replies. “I want to leave a lasting impact on my students. I, um, used to work for the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit but the job became too much, so I turned to teaching. I love kids so I decided to teacher a younger class.”

“That’s really nice, Spencer,” she says when he’s done talking. “I mean, I wanted to be a nurse to help people and you’re teaching for that same reason. Even when you worked for the FBI. You saved lives too.”

“Not enough.” There’s a hint of sadness in his voice when he says those two words. It breaks (Y/N)’s heart.

Before she realizes what she’s doing, (Y/N) reaches across the table and puts her hands on top of Spencer’s. He looks at their hands before his eyes flicker up to meet hers. (Y/N)’s heart beats out of her chest when their eyes meet, the butterflies return to the pit of her stomach.

There is some sadness behind Spencer’s eyes, but there is something else that she can’t quite describe or explain.

The waiter decides now to come up and give them the check. Spencer snatches it before she can look at it. He gives his card immediately to the waiter. She smiles and sits back in her chair. “You’re ridiculous,” she tells him.

“That’s not nice to say to someone who just paid for your dinner, Miss (L/N),” Spencer playfully retorts.

“(Y/N),” she replies. “My name is (Y/N). If I can call you Spencer, then you can call me (Y/N).”

Spencer smiles as the waiter comes back. “(Y/N).”

The way Spencer says her name makes her shiver.

He signs the check and they head outside to the parking lot. (Y/N) looks over at Spencer as they walk. He’s nearly a head taller than she is, and she put on heels.

Spencer walks her all the way to her car. “I just wanted to make sure you got to your car okay before I head to the metro,” he tells her.

“You took the metro?” she asks. “Oh my God. Get in my car, Spencer. I’ll take you home.” She pauses. “Unless you want to come back to my apartment. We can have a drink or two and continue to talk.” He hesitates and (Y/N) smiles. “I’m not going to kidnap you. I know you worked for the FBI and saw things like this but I promise I’m not going to kidnap my daughter’s favorite teacher.”

He laughs, “Okay. A drink or two then I’ll Uber back to my own apartment.”

She gets in the driver’s seat of her car and Spencer gets in beside her. She starts it up and buckles her seatbelt before beginning the drive home.

The entire car ride, (Y/N) is very aware of the man that is sitting next to her. She’s aware of every move he makes, every time he grabs the “oh, shit” handle when she breaks a little too hard at red lights, and every time he thinks he sneaks a glance at her. At one point, his eyes look her up and down. She accidentally stepped on the break a little too hard because she was slightly distracted.

Twenty minutes pass before (Y/N) pulls into her usual parking spot outside of her building. She sighs and turns the car off before she looks at Spencer. “See? I got you here in one piece and I didn’t put a blindfold over your eyes,” she teases.

Spencer just smiles and gets out of the car. She follows suit, locking the vehicle behind her as she and Spencer walk into the building.

She uses her building key to get inside then climbs a flight of stairs.

As she’s unlocking the door to her apartment, she realizes that the apartment is a mess. She hasn’t cleaned in nearly a week because her schedule and Cassia’s schedule.

“Um, I’m sorry about the mess,” she says as she opens the door. “I haven’t really had the time to clean, if I’m being honest.”

“I get it,” Spencer laughs. “Trust me. I’m glad we came here and didn’t go to my apartment. It’s a complete disaster.”

(Y/N) smiles as she shuts the door behind Spencer. “I can go get us drinks while you go sit,” she offers. “What can I get for you?”

“Whatever you’re having.”

She nods and walks into the kitchen. She hears the couch squeak behind her and she smiles to herself.

An attractive man is in her apartment and isn’t judging her for the mess that is her apartment. It’s been years since she went on a proper date — even though dinner with Spencer was not a date — and invited someone back to her apartment. It feels kind of nice to have another adult in her home instead of a crazy child.

She pours both of them a glass of wine before joining Spencer on the couch. She kicks off her heels and they fall to the carpeted floor with a soft thud before she curls up and tucks her feet under her.

“You know, I should’ve asked this before agreeing to go to dinner,” she begins to say. “You aren’t in any kind of relationship, right? No girlfriend, no Mrs. Reid?”

Spencer laughs and shakes his head. “No, I’m not in a relationship and I’m not married,” he replies. “I might be 32 but I’ve only had a handful of relationships and I have never been married. I don’t think I’ve ever really settled down with anyone for a long period of time. I haven’t really had a lot of time to date, especially when I worked at the BAU. I didn't really want to put someone in danger either. I've seen what that did to my co-workers."

“Yeah, that makes sense.”

“I guess you aren’t in a relationship either,” he points out after he sips his wine. “I mean, you invited me back to your apartment. I think that’s a sign that there is no one in your life.”

(Y/N) chuckles to herself and shakes her head. “I am a very single mother,” she tells him.

“Good to know.” He sends a wink in her direction.

They settle into small talk, asking each other how the week is going. Spencer talks about his students and how they’re enjoying what he’s teaching them. She can tell by the way he talks about the kids that he truly loves what he does.

(Y/N) even tells Spencer about her ER stories from the week. Some of them are more gruesome than others but she enjoys her job, more on the days when no one dies in her care.

He asks about Cassia, which throws (Y/N) off a lot. No one has ever been this interested in her daughter. She doesn’t even tell most guys she goes out with about her daughter until a few dates in — again this isn’t a date though.

Spencer knows Cassia though, and he’s getting to know her mother now too. It warms her heart that he is asking about Cassia. Her daughter is her first love. Anyone else comes after her.

Three glasses of wine later, Spencer realizes what time it is. It’s nearly midnight.

“I should probably get going,” he sighs. “Take the train back to my apartment.”

(Y/N) chews on her lower lip for a second, contemplating. “I mean, you could just … stay?” she suggests. “It’s pretty late. By the time you get home, it will probably be close to one in the morning. You’ll only get a few hours of sleep. More hours of sleep if you just … stay here.”

She sees the gears turning behind Spencer’s eyes. He is definitely thinking about it.

“If you’re okay with it.”

“I’m more than okay with it, Spencer.” Her voice almost comes out as a whisper.

Spencer’s eyes almost darken. (Y/N)’s heart is beating so quickly in her chest, especially when he moves a bit closer to her. His thumb drags across her jaw. Goosebumps break out across her body when he touches her.

She should back away before any lines are crossed. This is Cassia's teacher. (Y/N) isn't sure if the line should be crossed because of that.

“Tell me I’m not reading this wrong,” he softly says, eyes flickering down to (Y/N)’s lips for a split second.

Immediately, (Y/N) shakes her head. "You're not reading this wrong," she tells him. "I'm just unsure if we should do this. I mean, you're my daughter's teacher, Spencer. I'm also almost ten years younger than you too."

Spencer doesn't move away. "If you're uncomfortable then tell me," he says. "If you don't want me to kiss you then tell me because I'm going to kiss you if you don't."

Their noses touch and (Y/N) lets out a soft sigh, her eyes fluttering shut.

It's such a bad idea, but she's starting to not care. She's a grown adult. Spencer is a grown adult. They're both consenting adults.

"Kiss me," (Y/N) whispers. "Please, Spencer."

With zero hesitation, Spencer closes the space between them and captures her lips with his. They sit with their lips connected for a few seconds before (Y/N) reciprocates the kiss. Spencer leans into her, which deepens the kiss.

It's such a soft yet deep kiss that it nearly takes the breath out of her lungs. Especially after one of Spencer's hands slides into her hair and his fingers curl into her locks. It holds her in place, not that she's planning on going anywhere. She's not.

(Y/N) throws one of her legs over Spencer's knee and moves even closer. She wraps her hand around Spencer's wrist so he doesn't take his hand out of her hair.

Spencer's free hand rests on her knee, slowly sliding up her thigh until his fingers are under the soft fabric of her black dress, tracing the outline of her panties. He grips her thigh under the dress and (Y/N) sighs against Spencer's lips.

When Spencer moves his hand higher, (Y/N) throws her leg over his lap and straddles his thighs. Her hands cup Spencer's jaw while her fingers play with the ends of Spencer's hair.

She feels Spencer's hand move higher and rest on her butt. She begins to untie the tie around his neck without breaking the kiss.

She starts to get frustrated because she can’t see what she’s doing. With a groan, she pulls back and Spencer laughs. “Relax, (Y/N),” he tells her as he puts his hands over hers. “I’m not going anywhere.” He unties his tie for her and drops it on the couch beside them.

(Y/N) meets his eyes and relaxes her body. She smiles at him as his hands come up to cup her cheeks. “God, I haven’t done this in a long time,” she breathes out as she looks back down at her hands on his chest. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey, you’re doing fine,” Spencer assures her, dipping his head down and meeting her eyes. He smiles as if to reassure her. “Seriously.”

“Then can we move this to the bedroom,” she suggests. “The couch isn’t very comfortable if I’m being honest. It’s a very cheap and kind of lumpy. Not fun to lay on.”

Spencer smiles and nods. “If you want to get me in your bed, just tell me,” he teases.

(Y/N) gets up off of his lap and begins to walk down the hallway. "Let's go then."

She reaches behind her and unzips the dress as she walks. Footsteps sound behind her as the fabric hits the floor with a soft thud. She turns into her bedroom, which is a lot cleaner than the living room.

Not three steps into her bedroom, a pair of arms wraps around her waist. She’s pulled backward and crashes into something solid. (Y/N) giggles and looks up at Spencer. "You're gorgeous, (Y/N)," he mumbles into her ear. His lips brush against her ear and she shivers.

He moves her hair off of her shoulder and begins to kiss her neck. She tilts her head to the side and lets out a soft sigh. "You are too, Spencer."

She turns in his arms and looks up at him. He tucks her hair behind her ear and pulls her into another kiss. Her fingers begin working on unbuttoning his shirt because he's wearing too many clothes for her liking. Especially since she's standing in front of him in nothing but a bra and panties.

As soon as his shirt is unbuttoned, Spencer untucks it from the waistband of his pants and lets it drop to the floor. His fingers reach behind her and he unclasps her bra and she lets it join Spencer's shirt on the ground.

He tugs (Y/N) impossibly closer to him, their chests pressed against each other. They literally can not get any closer to each other unless she crawls into him.

Without breaking the kiss, he picks (Y/N) up and walks toward her bed. She wraps her legs around his waist until he lays her down on the mattress.

Spencer hovers above her and her legs fall open so he can get comfortable between them. He kicks his shoes and toes his socks off while they both move backward in the mattress. (Y/N)'s fingers slide into his hair and hold his warm brown locks out of his face.

He grinds his bulge against (Y/N)'s clothed core. She lets out a soft moan against his lips. Spencer snakes a hand between them and slides his fingers into her panties. She whines while his fingers run through her dripping folds. He takes advantage of the distraction and pushes his tongue into her mouth.

"Spencer," she whines. He breaks the kiss when she says his name,

"This okay?"

"Yes," she replies. "Do something." She moves her hips so his fingers line up with her entrance. "Please."

Spencer pushes one finger into her. He curls it slightly as he pumps in and out of her. Soft sighs pass her slightly parted lips. Her eyes are on Spencer. His hair is wild from having her fingers in it, his lips are red and swollen from the kisses that they have exchanged over the past few minutes.

A second and third finger is soon added and (Y/N) withers under his touch. "Fuck," she gasps when he curls all three of his fingers. "Spencer."

"Let me hear you, baby," Spencer tells her as he kisses down her body. He makes a quick pit stop at your breasts, swirling his tongue around one of your nipples. Her back arches off the mattress with a moan. "That's it."

He continues his journey down her body. Spencer hooks his fingers into the waistband of her panties and pulls them off of her body. He kisses the inside of her thighs before he wraps his lips around her clit. He sucks gently and (Y/N)'s fingers grip Spencer's hair. She looks down and meets his eyes.

"Oh my God," she groans as she throws her head back against the pillow. "Spencer. Fuck."

She doesn't mean to pull on Spencer's hair, but the reaction she gets out of him makes her want to do it again. He hums around her and it makes her entire body shake. She has to bite down on her lower lip so she literally doesn't scream Spencer's name. The last thing she needs is for her neighbors to hear her having what's probably the best sex of her life.

Spencer curls his fingers inside of her and she lets out a borderline pornographic moan, coming without warning around Spencer's fingers. (Y/N)'s breathing is labored as he fingers her through her high.

Her entire body melts and becomes one with the mattress when he withdraws his fingers and she begins to come back to reality. She is quick to notice that her legs are still shaking.

"Shit," she chuckles as Spencer sits back on his knees and licks his lips. That simple motion shouldn't be as hot as it is, but she knows what he's licking off of his lips.

Something comes over (Y/N). She doesn't know if it's confidence or what but she pulls Spencer back down to the mattress. She flips them over and sits on Spencer's waist. She doesn't even know how she managed to do that considering she was just shaking from her orgasm not five minutes ago.

She leans down and presses soft kisses to Spencer's jaw and cheek. "My turn to make you feel good," she whispers when she gets close to his ear. "You lay there and look pretty."

(Y/N) swears she feels Spencer shiver beneath her. With a small smile, she begins to kiss down his neck and chest. Her fingers begin to work at the belt around his waist. The metal clangs while she works on getting the belt undone. She shoves her hand down his pants when the belt and button get undone.

Spencer groans when (Y/N)'s hand wraps around his erect dick. She gives him a few strokes in his pants before she pulls both his pants and boxers down his legs. They join her underwear on the ground next to the bed while she settles between his legs.

He's a little bigger than average, but not too thick. It's still a little intimidating.

She wipes away the bit of pre-come that has collected at the tip of his dick with her thumb. "(Y/N)," Spencer warns. "Don't tease. It's not nice."

(Y/N) smiles and wraps her lips around the bright red tip. Her tongue swirls around the top for a second before she lowers her mouth onto him.

She uses one hand to make up for what she can't fit in her mouth and uses the other to touch herself because the sounds that are coming from Spencer are too much and she needs some relief. She imagines that it's his fingers that are bringing her close to the edge.

Soft groans come from Spencer as she occasionally hollows out her cheeks and sucks.

He begins thrusting up into her mouth. She stops moving and lets him use her mouth. "God, look at you, (Y/N)," Spencer sighs. "Letting me use that pretty mouth of yours."

His words shoot straight to the knot in (Y/N)'s stomach that already threatens to come undone again. He's careful not to choke her with his dick as he fucks her mouth.

Before she comes again, she pulls off Spencer with a soft pop. He raises his eyebrows at her as she moves over to her bedside table. She opens the drawer and pulls out a little foil package. She tosses it at Spencer.

"I want you to fuck me," she tells him. "And as much as I love my daughter, I'm not ready for another one so put that on and fuck me."

Spencer doesn't need to be told twice. He rips open the little package with his teeth while (Y/N) lays down in front of him. Her legs fall open and as soon as the condom is on, Spencer falls on top of her.

"This is something you want?" he asks. "I just want to make sure that you won't have any regrets about it."

She leans up and captures Spencer's lips in a soft kiss. He brackets her head with his arms as she pulls him down so she can lay her head on the pillow. "I want you, Spencer Reid," she mumbles between kisses. "All of you. Please."

In the very short amount of time that she has known Spencer, she already feels very connected to him. Between the way they bonded over why they're in the fields they're in and the fact that they both have some kind of love for Cassia, (Y/N) can see herself with him. He could be the father figure that Cassia doesn't really have in her life.

He's been so careful the entire time he's been over. He's been taking care of (Y/N) the whole time, making sure she's okay before making a move. It warms her heart.

Spencer lining himself up with her entrance causes (Y/N) to come back to reality. She breaks the kiss and stares up at Spencer. There is a fire behind those honey-colored eyes of his. A fire that excites her.

She uses her fingers to push back Spencer's hair so she can see his face as he pushes himself into her since she gave him permission. She gasps as he slowly fills her up. He moves slowly, giving her time to adjust to his size.

Her eyes never leave his. (Y/N) notices his pupils blow up as he sinks further into her. She wraps her legs around her and digs her heels into the back of his thighs, which forces Spencer to completely fill her.

"Let me know when I can move," he softly says as he brushes a piece of her hair out of her face. " I don't want to hurt you, baby."

(Y/N)'s thumbs softly run over his cheekbones. Her heart flutters at the pet name. She nods after a moment of silence.

Spencer slowly begins to thrust his hips into her. (Y/N) lets out soft whines as he moves. Her fingers curl in Spencer's hair and he leans down to press hot, open-mouthed kisses to her neck and collarbone.

"Spencer," she sighs. "Faster. You're not going to break me."

He nips at the skin on her collarbone and she lets out a soft moan. "You have no idea what you're doing to me, (Y/N)," Spencer pants against her skin. "You look so pretty underneath me. I can't get enough."

She bites her bottom lip again and arches her back off the mattress, trying to get even closer to him. His hand comes down on her waist and he holds her waist up.

His pace gets faster and he moves deeply into her.

With every hard thrust, the bed squeaks and (Y/N) groans. She should be worried about the fact that her bed sounds like it's going to break if they keep up this pace, but that is the very last thing on her mind.

The hand that was holding (Y/N)'s waist slithers lower and Spencer's fingers connect with her still-sensitive clit. She whines as he uses his fingers to get her closer to her orgasm. She bucks her hips up every time he thrusts into her, keeping up with his pace.

"Fuck, Spencer," she groans.

"You gonna come again for me, pretty girl?" he asks. It comes out in pants because of how labored his breathing is. His breathy voice is hotter than (Y/N) should find it. "Go ahead and come for me, baby. Let go. I've got you."

It isn't long after that before she's clenching around Spencer's dick and coming around him with the loudest moan that she's ever let out. Her back arches off the bed and for a second, she swears she's floating when her vision goes completely white.

Her entire body goes numb after her second orgasm in about fifteen minutes. (Y/N) isn't sure that she'll ever be able to move again. Spencer might have just killed her by giving her the best orgasm of her entire life.

(Y/N) doesn't even feel Spencer pull out or notice that he disappeared before she sees him walking back into the bedroom with a towel to clean them both up.

"We are so lucky that Cassia isn't here," (Y/N) says, voice raspy as she talks. Spencer laughs as he wipes away the layer of sweat that has formed on both of them. "I don't think I have ever been that loud during sex. Ever."

Spencer throws the towel on the floor and crawls next to (Y/N). He pulls the blankets on top of both of them and (Y/N) curls up at his side. "Next time, we can't be that loud," he tells her.

She looks up at him and pushes his sweat-soaked hair out of his eyes. "We should probably shower," she points out.

"Now why should we do that when that's not going to be the only round for tonight?" Spencer's head dips down and captures her lips in a slow kiss.

"What happened to sleep?"

"Sleep is for the weak."

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Spencer leaves early in the morning because he can't show up to work in the same clothes he left in yesterday. The kids would notice if he did that.

(Y/N) tells Cassia's father that she'll pick Cassia up from school since she's "already out". She isn't already out of the apartment. She leaves at two so she can go pick up her daughter, and see her new ... whatever Spencer is.

It's a little after 2:30 when (Y/N) pulls up to the school. She hangs around with the other parents, talking mostly to Brynn's mom about how Cassia was last night.

"What did you do with your suddenly free night?" Brynn's mom asks (Y/N).

"Drank some wine," she replies. "Turned in early and got up late." Not a complete lie. She was technically in bed by ten and only woke up to say goodbye to Spencer after a round of sex in the shower. She slept until noon after he left.

The kids all come running out shortly after. They get dismissed by grade and luckily for (Y/N), their teachers come out with them.

By the time third grade comes out, (Y/N) is practically shaking with excitement to see Spencer after their night together.

She sees Cassia come running out. Her daughter comes running right over to her. (Y/N) leans down and picks her daughter up "I thought daddy was picking me up today like he always does," she says.

"I was out and decided to come get you," she replies. "How was school today?"

"Doctor Reid was in a very good mood today," Cassia tells her mom. There is confusion in her voice. "He didn't even give us homework tonight because of his good mood."

(Y/N) look up to see Spencer walking toward her and Cassia. "No homework, hm?" she asks as Spencer approaches them with a smile on his face. "I think this calls for an ice cream night in celebration."

“Ooh, ice cream,” Spencer says. “Sounds like fun.” She shoots Spencer a little smile.

Cassia looks between her mother and teacher before she says, “You should come over and have ice cream with us, Doctor Reid! Ice cream night is a lot of fun. We watch movies too.”

“Now that does sound like a lot of fun,” Spencer replies, eyes flickering between (Y/N) and Cassia. “It’s up to your mom if I can come or not though.”

Her daughter looks at her and does her puppy dog pout. “Please?” she asks. “It’ll be a lot more fun if Doctor Reid came over and had ice cream with us.”

(Y/N) smiles and looks up at Spencer. “Would you like to come over and have ice cream with us while we watch movies, Doctor Reid?”

“Absolutely,” he replies. “Sounds like a lot of fun. What time should I come over?”

“Seven,” (Y/N) tells him.

Cassia celebrates and her mother puts her down. “See you later, Doctor Reid!” she calls as she runs to the car.

Both Spencer and (Y/N) look at each other while Cassia gets in the car. “Make sure you bring pajamas or a change of clothes tonight, Doctor Reid,” she tells him. “Don’t need a repeat of last night, do we?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Nice mark, by the way,” (Y/N) points out. “Wonder why you’re in such a good mood.”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

A/N - this is my first spencer reid one shot so pls let me know how i did. hope it wasn’t bad

MASTERLIST

REQUEST GUIDLINES

PART TWO

#criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds smut #dr spencer reid #doctor spencer reid #spencer reid #spencer reid fic #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader #smut #smut fic #fluff #fluff fic #sunsetreid series

[astrophileous]

A Well-Kept Secret

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Synopsis: While working on a case in D.C., Spencer didn't expect to hear a familiar name being mentioned as the sole surviving witness. Or, in which the team discovers Spencer's well-kept secret.

Warning(s): established secret relationship, mentions and/or depictions of death/physical violence/gun violence/injury/attack, signs of trauma, survivor's guilt, curse words, hurt/comfort, nudity but it's not sexual, allusions to sexy times, mentions/implied alcohol consumption

Word Count: 5900-ish

Author's Note: hiya! I decided to write this lil piece after seeing the fic challenge posted by @imagining-in-the-margins abt the family/found family trope. I had a lotta fun writing this one and I think it's got potential to be something more. So pls comment or message me if you wanna see me exploring with this idea (either turning it into a series of connected one-shots or multi-parters). Don't forget to like/comment/reblog and give me a follow :) I hope you enjoy! 💞

Criminal Minds Masterlist

When Hotch had notified the team to haul their asses up and drove all the way to D.C., Spencer never expected that it would also entail him having to suffer through a mini heart attack.

The series of attacks around D.C. had been dominating the 6 PM news segments in the entire country. What was initially perceived as a suspected sequence of robberies gone wrong--since the first two targets to have been hit were a bank and a prestigious auction house--soon turned into a nationwide panic as people realized that there was a bigger game at play.

After the third attack was found to have occurred in the headquarters of one of the top, up-and-coming renewable energy startups in the states, the D.C. police finally started to entertain the idea that perhaps they hadn't been dealing with their usual petty robbers at all.

And naturally, that was when the BAU had been called in.

As soon as the team entered the Metropolitan PD bullpen, they were struck with the smell of panic and the sight of chaos.

"Agent Hotchner?" A middle-aged man in a gray shirt and blue tie appeared in front of them. "My name is Detective Mills, we spoke on the phone."

"Of course, Detective." Hotch shook the other man's hand. "This is my team. Agent Prentiss, Jareau, and Dr. Reid. I have two others already at the latest crime scene. What can you tell us so far?"

"As you can see--" Detective Mills gestured towards the frenzied scene behind him, "--the entire D.C. area is going haywire after news broke out about yesterday's attack. The public is demanding the city to be put on lockdown, and I'm getting pressure from above as well. We received information that nearly half the city has called in sick today."

"A classic response to mass paranoia," Spencer noted.

"Well, paranoia or not, I just want to start getting some answers." Detective Mills began to lead the team further into the bullpen. "I have every pair of hands I could spare in this. If they aren't out there chasing leads, they're here interviewing the victims, friends, and families."

"Any luck so far?" Emily asked.

"Nothing more than what you've probably seen in the files."

Detective Mills pushed open the door to an office in the corner, away from the havoc in the center of the station.

"Lieutenant Jeffreys retired a couple of weeks ago. The lucky bastard." Detective Mills scoffed jokingly. "It's the most decent space I can spare at the moment. Think you'll be fine in here?"

"It's more than enough, Detective. Thank you," Hotch replied.

"What about the witnesses from yesterday's attack? Have you had the chance to interview them?" JJ asked as the rest of the team started setting up.

"Some of my men are with them right now. But I doubt they'll have anything useful. Just like the other two cases, the attack happened while most of the office was out. The rest left behind were DOA at the latest scene."

"They're rapidly devolving," Spencer pondered out loud as he skimmed over the case files. "They went from killing a non-compliant security guard during the first attack to executing almost every witness in the last one."

JJ raised an eyebrow. "Almost?"

"It says here there is one survivor." Spencer showed the word he had underlined in the case overview to JJ.

"Yes, there is," Detective Mills confirmed. "I had one of my men talk to her. There's not much she could give us. Thing is, she wasn't even supposed to be there."

"What do you mean?" Emily asked.

"She didn't work in that office. She was a consultant who just happened to be visiting. Poor girl's pretty shaken up. She hid in a supply closet the entire time. She was the one who found the bodies and called 911."

"So, the perpetrators never checked the rooms while they were holding the victims hostage?" Hotch questioned.

"Not according to her statement, no. See, I thought it weird myself. Do you have any idea why?"

"Not sure." Hotch hummed, deep in thought. "Perhaps our UnSubs didn't think to check because they didn't know someone was in there. Detective, you said all of the victims were the only employees of the company who didn't attend the event downtown, correct?"

"Yeah, they were the only ones who weren't listed as attendees. Why? Do you think those people were specifically targeted?"

"Unfortunately, we can't rule out anything yet this early in the investigation," Hotch said. "We need to talk to the witnesses to know more. JJ?"

"On it." JJ nodded. "What can you tell us about yesterday's sole survivor, Detective?"

"Not much. I didn't interview her personally, one of my men did. She works at a consulting engineering firm in town," Detective Mills replied. "I believe her name is... what is it called?"

When Detective Mills mentioned the name, Spencer's heart instantly crashed inside of its cage.

"What?" His hand had stopped scribbling on the board. In a matter of miliseconds, Spencer had crossed the room towards the doorway where Detective Mills was standing. "What did you say her name was?"

Dumbfounded, the detective stared at a dread-stricken Spencer before spelling out the name once more.

"Why? What's wrong?" Detective Mills asked in confusion.

JJ touched Spencer's shoulder. "Hey, you okay?"

But Spencer, either too alarmed or merely choosing not to acknowledge both questions, asked instead, "Where is she? I need to see her."

"In the waiting room by the pantry--"

Spencer didn't even wait for Detective Mills to form his complete thought before dashing out. JJ exchanged a glance with Emily following Spencer's sudden exit, perplexed by his odd turn of behavior.

"I'll go get him," JJ announced before leaving the room, chasing after a flurry of wavy hair and a wool-knitted purple vest sprinting across the bullpen.

The roaring commotion inside the station was almost loud enough to rival the intensity of your racing thoughts.

Almost.

At this point, you didn't think there was anything you could do anymore. The vivid images from yesterday's attack were playing continuously in your head. There was nothing you could do to stop them.

Rubbing your eyes from exhaustion, you mourned the loss of sleep that you failed to get the previous night. As if the waking nightmares weren't torment enough, the images had somehow translated even more cruelly into your subconscious. You could barely close your eyes for three seconds without feeling like you had been brought back to that place.

Cold, cramped, and alone. Fearing for your life in the tiny supply closet that smelled more like death than bleach.

At the sound of the door opening, you quickly turned around in your seat to hide your face away from prying eyes. The last thing you needed at that moment was having a complete stranger seeing you fall apart in the middle of a police station.

But when the voice came carrying the sound of your name, it wasn't the voice of a complete stranger you had heard. It was a voice you knew more than you probably knew your own. A voice you loved and a voice you had longed to hear for the past gruesome twenty-four hours.

"Spencer?" You turned back towards the door, seeing the face you adored most in the whole world staring back at you.

"Sweetheart."

At the speed of a lightning, Spencer dropped to his knees in front of you and gathered your broken little pieces into his arms.

Spencer's touch was everywhere. Your hair, your neck, your shoulders. As if he was checking whether you were real. That you were actually there inside his arms, and you were not a simple imagination that his mind had conjured up.

Surrounded by the safety of his embrace, you could feel the shattered pieces of yourself beginning to mend once more.

"Spencer," you uttered his name again as you pulled away, still in disbelief that he was physically there with you.

"I'm here," he promised you as he cupped your face gently.

"Spencer, what are you... How..."

"My team is working your case. We arrived half an hour ago," he explained simply. "Sunshine, why didn't you tell me? I thought you were still in Alaska?"

You had previously apprised Spencer that you would be hard to reach during your trip since you would be spending most of your time at the power plant site where cellphone receptions were scarce. So when an entire day went by without him ever hearing from you, Spencer didn't have any reason to be worried.

Never in a million years would he have ever predicted that you'd be caught in the middle of a hostage situation.

That thought alone caused Spencer to squeeze your hand a little tighter than usual.

"I'm sorry, Spence," you said sincerely. "My trip ended earlier than planned. I arrived back yesterday morning. I actually wanted to surprise you last night. After yesterday's... incident, I wanted to call you, but my phone was shot--"

"Wait, what? You were shot?"

"No! No, baby. Not me. Just my phone," you assured him. "But that's why I couldn't call. I did attempt you once using this station's phone, but it went straight to voicemail."

At the new piece of information, the colors immediately drained from Spencer's face.

"That was you? Fuck. I didn't--I didn't know. I rejected the call because I didn't know it was you."

"Hey." You stopped his guilty rambling with a hand to his cheek. "It's okay. I'm okay. I'm just glad you're here."

And then, because Spencer needed to make sure that you really were okay, he pulled you back into his arms and held you even tighter this time.

"Uh, Spence?"

The sound in the doorway snapped you both out of your mutual reverie. You looked up to see a blonde woman there, staring in an equal mixture of shock and confusion at the sight in front of her.

Spencer begrudgingly untangled himself from your arms before getting up to approach her.

"JJ, do you mind if I do the cognitive for this one?" Spencer asked.

The woman--JJ-- shifted her eyes a few times between you and Spencer. "Um, of course. I'll just go and inform Hotch. Tell us if you need anything."

After JJ's departure, Spencer closed the door again to award you both a much needed privacy.

He grabbed a wooden chair from the corner and dragged it before sitting down right in front of you.

"I need to start the interview now, sweetheart. Think you're up for it?"

Your whole body went rigid for a matter of seconds before you forced it to restart again. It was gone as soon as it came, but Spencer noticed it just the same.

"Look at me," Spencer ordered softly, using his delicate finger to nudge your face up until he was looking straight into your eyes. "I know it's scary. I don't want you to have to relive yesterday either, but it will help us catch whoever did this."

"I've told the police everything I knew yesterday. I was hiding the entire time." Like a coward. "I didn't see anything. I don't have anything else that could help you."

"I know that, sunshine. But as I've told you before, our method is slightly different. We won't be just focusing on what you saw, but also what you smelled, or maybe even heard." Spencer took your hands then, squeezing affectionately. "I'll be here with you the entire time."

The nod you gave him was hesitant, but it was a start nonetheless. You listened intently to Spencer's words and closed your eyes just as he had instructed.

"We'll start at the beginning," you heard him say. "Why don't you tell me why you went there yesterday?"

"I, uh, received a call from my friend, Nick, after my plane landed. We had been communicating back and forth since his company seeked my consultation for one of their upcoming projects," you began. "I wasn't even supposed to work because I had requested the day off. But Nick said it didn't have to be a formal meeting, so I agreed to meet him."

"Tell me what you remember after arriving at the office."

Your mind traveled back to that specific time one day prior. You remembered walking into the place and seeing its unusual state of vacancy even though there was still a good half an hour left before lunchtime.

"I just assumed everyone had gone to lunch earlier and shrugged it off," you recalled.

Spencer nodded his head. "Did anything else strike you as out of the ordinary?"

"No? I don't... I don't know. It was only my second time being there, I'm not sure what was normal and what wasn't."

"Okay. That's okay. You're doing good so far, sweetheart," Spencer quickly interjected, trying to get you to calm down before your distress could turn into a full-blown panic. "Now, what did you do next?"

"I followed Nick into his office."

Nick was keeping his promise true. It hadn't felt like a formal meeting, just two old college buddies reminiscing about the past and discussing possibilities of the future that, of course, included the company's upcoming project which you would be working on with him.

"I excused myself to the bathroom at some point," you added. "When I first heard the commotion, I thought nothing of it. It's like the idea that a group full of armed men had taken over the building didn't even cross my mind. I mean, why would it? I was on my way back to Nick's office when I saw them."

You recalled turning a corner after exiting the bathroom only to see those figures carrying machine guns and shouting at everyone to get on their knees or put their hands above their heads. You remembered sprinting the way you had come from and opening the first door you could reach that just happened to be the supply closet.

"Let's go back to the moment you saw them," Spencer urged gently. "How many people were there? Do you remember any conspicuous detail? Maybe one of them had tattoos or spoke with an accent. Anything that distinguished them."

Taking a deep breath, you tried replaying those crucial seconds slowly in your head.

"There were four of them. I couldn't see much. They were all wearing identical black clothes."

Suddenly, an unexpected piece of memory rushed to the front of your mind. You opened your eyes in shock, meeting Spencer's curious gaze that had been kept intently on you the entire time.

"I think at least one of them is a woman," you told him.

Spencer's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Are you sure?"

"One of the guys said something about... fucking this place up. And then she laughed. I heard her. It was definitely a female laugh."

"Good. That's good."

"Yeah? Do you think it'll help?"

Spencer nodded assuredly, bringing his hand to leave calming strokes on your head. "I know it will. You've done a great job, sweetheart. I'm proud of you."

The praise Spencer gave eased the tension in your shoulders. As if having been granted fresh air after decades of confinement, you were finally able to let yourself breathe again.

Spencer continued his loving strokes on your head. Little by little, the weight of his touch melted the resolve you had built into a pathetic puddle on the floor. Without its mental shield protecting you, your tears sped forward, gathering in your eyes until they spilled on the vast path down your cheeks.

"Hey, hey." Spencer's voice was laden with panic after seeing you start to cry. "Sunshine, what is it? What's wrong? Talk to me."

"I-I just... God." You struggled to get the words out in between sobs. "I'm a coward, Spencer."

"What?"

"All of those people... They died because I was a fucking coward."

Your admission tore into the air before stabbing Spencer right through his chest.

"Sweetheart, you know that's not true."

"But it is!" you cried out, pulling away from Spencer's grounding hold around your shaking body in favor of your own arms. "I was a coward. I ran and hid because I was too scared to die. Too scared to fight. If I had just tried a little harder, I could've called for help. That way, maybe all of those people wouldn't... And Nick wouldn't..."

A haunting image flashed behind your eyes. The image of Nick's limp and lifeless body on the floor, among those of the others. You remembered crying next to him, punching his chest, body, and arm despite having seen the gunshot wound on his forehead. It took you another five minutes before you eventually managed to gather yourself together, found a phone, and dialed 911.

Not that it made any difference. They were all already dead.

Spencer could hear his heart breaking at the sight of you curling into yourself, recoiling from his touch because you somehow believed you didn't deserve his affection at that moment. If Spencer could just transfer all of your pain towards him, he would. Seeing you beat yourself up that way over something that happened and was done to you was the worst kind of torture he ever had to endure in life.

And Spencer had been through more kinds of torture than the general population in the world.

Deciding that he had seen enough of your self-deprecating torment, he reclaimed your hands inside of his palms and urged you to look at him.

"Are you hearing yourself right now?" Spencer asked incredulously. "How can you even think that way? Sweetheart, what happened to those people, to Nick, it is not your fault."

"B-but, if I hadn't run away--"

"Then you would've died, too," he cut you off. "Sunshine, there were four of them with machine guns. No one stood a single chance against them. Those people were there to kill. There was nothing you could've done."

It was a hard pill to swallow, but Spencer needed you to hear it.

He needed you to know the truth no matter how unacceptable it was.

"If you hadn't hid from them, we would've found seven bodies there instead of six. And I--" Spencer took a shuddering breath, "--I would've lost you."

Your shoulders deflated at his revelation. "Spence--"

"So please--" he searched your eyes then, using his thumb to sweep away the remaining tears under your eyes, "--stop holding yourself accountable. I promise I will do everything I can to find those people and make them pay for what they did."

Spencer's vow triggered a new wave of tears that compelled you to sink into his awaiting arms. He let you stay there until you had cried your tears dry. It was something he also secretly needed for himself after suffering through the short-lived horror over the mention of your name in relation to the heinous case. He just needed to make sure that you were okay.

A few minutes passed by with you in his arms. Eventually, Spencer had to tear himself away to finish his job. He asked you to wait as he wrapped up the transcript of your cognitive interview, along with his professional report over it.

"I need to run somewhere real quick. I promise to be back in a couple of hours," he notified JJ as he handed her the interview report. "Tell Hotch for me? Thanks."

Without waiting for his friend's reply, Spencer rushed back to the waiting room before leading you out to take you home.

Back at your apartment, Spencer guided you towards the direction of your bathroom as soon as you had stepped into the threshold.

"Are you trying to get me naked, Spencer?" you remarked playfully after he refused to let you take your clothes off yourself.

"Yes." The gleaming mischief in your eyes caused him to flick your nose lightly. "Just to get you ready for your bath. Get your head straight, will you?"

You scoffed at his back as he turned around to check the water temperature in the tub.

Once you were submerged safely inside, Spencer left the bathroom to give you some privacy. Meanwhile, he began rummaging through your drawers to pull out a change of clothes, a towel, and a clean sheet for your bed.

By the time you exited, Spencer had changed your bedsheets and lit one of your favorite candles on the bedside table. He asked you to sit down on the bed as he kneeled before you, helping you put on the pajamas he had picked out with little prints of sunflowers on them.

None of Spencer's touches were sexual. They swept over your skin with the care of an artist handling their most precious work. When his eyes found yours, you swore you could almost cry from the intense adoration that seemed to shine so brightly out of them.

As he guided you to lie on the bed, you were surprised to see him following suit. He got under the covers with you, pulling you close to tangle every inch of your limbs with his.

"I love you, Spencer," you admitted to his chest, heart heavy with the deep appreciation and overwhelming affection for the man beside you.

Spencer looked down at your confession, finding his favorite pair of eyes already looking earnestly at him. Instinctively, he reached for your chin with his fingers, tugging your face upward until he could capture your lips with his.

The kiss was slow. Careful. Filled with silent promises and discreet reassurances. When you both parted, Spencer didn't pull himself away. Instead, he let his forehead touch yours while his eyes stayed closed.

"Will you be here when I wake up?" you asked quietly.

"Yes, sweetheart. Now go to sleep."

Although the two of you knew his answer was a lie, you both chose to pretend otherwise. You knew Spencer still had responsibilities to fulfill, along with a promise to you that he intended to keep. You knew that when you woke up later that evening, Spencer would already be long gone, and you would be forced to bask in the traces of himself that he had left behind.

But for now, Spencer was still there, in the comfort of your bedroom, lying on the bed next to you. And that knowledge alone was good enough for you to finally drift further into the land of sleep, surrounded by the warmth of Spencer's loving embrace.

"I'm telling you," JJ insisted, looking at her entire team minus Spencer and Hotch. "There was definitely something going on between them. Why else would he request to take over the cognitive for me?"

"Maybe he was feeling generous," Rossi deadpanned, earning an unimpressed glare from JJ.

It had been a full week since the BAU team had arrived in D.C. to investigate the series of gun attacks in the city. Just the day prior, they had successfully made their fourth arrest, bringing this case to yet another satisfying conclusion in the eye of justice.

If nothing else was amiss, they should have been on their way back to Quantico in less than an hour. In the meantime, though, JJ felt obliged to gather her team members in the middle of the bullpen to share her suspicion about a certain scene she had accidentally caught on their first day working the case.

"Pretty boy did seem more emotionally involved in this case than he usually does, though," Derek pointed out.

"Right? Right?" JJ replied almost too enthusiastically. "Come on, aren't you guys at least half as curious as I am about who this mystery girl might be? Don't you wanna try finding out who she is while we're still here?"

They all stared at each other in hesitation.

"Or, we could just ask Spencer directly and let him explain?" Emily suggested, receiving incredulous looks from the other three in response. "Yeah, you're right. What did you say her name was again?"

"I don't remember," JJ answered.

"It must be listed in the files somewhere, right?" Derek immediately sprung into action, reaching towards the scattered case files that might contain the name they were looking for.

"Just to be clear, I am not taking any part in this." Rossi sighed.

"Got it!" Derek waved the offending file in hand, giving it to JJ, who instantly began skimming over it.

"Alright. Says here that her name is..."

JJ read the name aloud when unexpectedly, an answering sound sprouted from behind them.

"Yes?"

Every single one of them turned in shock at your voice. You smiled at their wide-eyed expressions, waving your hand a little awkwardly in the air.

"You!" JJ exclaimed.

"Me?"

Emily nudged JJ in the ribs, making the blonde woman wince.

"Y-you're the witness from the startup case, right?" JJ said, trying to rectify the situation.

"That's me."

"What can we do for you, Miss?" Rossi asked, stepping forward and away from the rest of the group.

"I'm actually looking for Spencer. Do you know where he might be?"

"Spencer Reid? You know Reid?" Emily asked.

Before you had the chance to reply, the man in question came strolling into the bullpen, rambling animatedly to Hotch who was walking beside him. The moment Spencer caught sight of you, though, he immediately abandoned Hotch's side and rushed towards where you were standing.

"Hey, what are you doing here?"

"Looking for you, of course," you told him, fitting yourself easily into Spencer's side as his arm went around your waist. "Hi, Hotch."

The older man called your name in greeting. "I got your message. You wanted to talk to me?"

"I wanted to ask you--well, all of you, actually--" you glanced around at the other team members, "--if maybe you all would let me treat you to lunch? As a thank you for your hard work on the case."

Hotch nodded in response. "It's fine with me. We don't have to be back until tonight, anyway. Everyone?"

Instead of replying to your offer, Emily voiced aloud the question that was circling everyone's mind.

"You know her?" Emily looked at Hotch before dragging her eyes away towards you. "And you know him? You know each other? How?"

You gazed up at Spencer's eyes, seeing them shining with the same mirth as the one you felt dancing in your stomach.

"I guess this is supposed to be the part where I introduce myself, isn't it?" You chuckled.

Extending your palm, you shook each of their hands while telling them your name, them responding back with theirs even though you already knew who was who long before you had even met them.

"I still don't understand," JJ admitted after you finished shaking her hand. "How did you know Spencer and Hotch?"

Once again, you looked into Spencer's eyes, a question bouncing around in yours. Spencer's nod of affirmation was the only go-ahead you needed.

It's time.

"I'm Spencer's girlfriend."

"She's my wife."

You turned your head towards Spencer in shock.

In front of you, Spencer's teammates were causing an uproar.

"Wait, what?" Emily stared dumbfoundedly.

"You have a girlfriend?" Derek asked in disbelief.

"You're married?!" JJ shrieked.

"Hold on a second," Rossi interjected, holding his palms out as if to tell everyone to stand down and calm themselves. "So which one is it? Girlfriend or wife?"

And that was how you found yourself sitting in the private VIP room of your favorite restaurant in the city with some of Spencer's closest people on earth.

"That's the craziest story I've ever heard," Emily pondered in astonishment.

Rossi, Derek, and JJ were all wearing an identical look on each of their faces after hearing the story of how you and Spencer met: by drunkenly getting married in Vegas after only knowing each other for barely one night when you both weren't even twenty-two yet.

"If someone were to tell me yesterday that there's another member of this team who also went to get married while drunk in Vegas, I would have never even thought of mentioning Spencer's name," JJ mused.

At your curious expression, Spencer explained, "Rossi also got drunkenly married in Vegas to his third ex-wife,"

"Why didn't you two get a divorce?" Emily suddenly asked.

It was something that everyone who knew about your situation with Spencer had questioned at one point or another. The real answer was because you and Spencer had both been reluctant to go through the nasty and lengthy legal process of getting a divorce. Therefore, you decided to part ways without doing anything about it, vowing to only track each other down if one of you ever needed to end the bond because of another impending marriage or any other urgent matter.

But that reason alone was usually not enough to appease people's curiosity. And over the years, you and Spencer had poked fun over that particular fact by coming up with the most outrageous lie you could muster up.

"She wanted to get a divorce," Spencer fabricated smoothly. "I persuaded her otherwise because I had this inkling that someday we were gonna fall in love."

Usually, any other people would coo sweetly at Spencer's statememt.

But these weren't any other people. These people were Spencer's family in more ways except flesh and blood, and even without their profiling skills, you knew they could see right through Spencer's little deception.

"That sounds like bullshit to me. Doesn't that sound like bullshit to you?" Emily asked, turning to JJ for support.

"Yeah, that was bullshit, alright," JJ claimed vehemently, prompting an innocent-looking grin from Spencer and a series of chuckles from everyone else.

"When did you two start dating, then?" Rossi spoke up from one end of the table.

"About two years after Vegas, right?" you estimated, to which Spencer nodded in confirmation. "He strolled into my place of work while he was on a case, and then he asked me out."

Derek sat up on his seat after hearing the new information. "Wait, when was this? Why didn't I know about this?"

"The beginning of my second year in the BAU," Spencer offered. "Elle knew."

"Elle? Elle Greenway? You told Elle but not me?" Derek looked offended.

Spender shrugged nonchalantly. "Elle was assigned with me that day."

"Unbelievable." Derek slumped back down in his chair. "Penelope is gonna freak when she finds out what she missed today."

"Penelope? Oh, she already knows," you told him.

That revelation earned a collective disbelief look across the entire table.

"Yeah... I, uh," you cleared your throat, "I actually just went shopping with her two weeks ago."

"You've got to be kidding me," Emily muttered.

"You told Penelope but not me?" Derek sounded hurt as he pointed his accusatory stare at Spencer. "You even told Hotch!"

"I didn't tell Garcia. She dug through my history and found it out herself. Had to bribe her with candies and chocolates for a whole month to keep her quiet," Spencer grumbled. "And I had to tell Hotch. We needed to add her number to my emergency contact list."

Despite Spencer's concise explanation, Derek still seemed unsatisfied by the whole ordeal.

"How long have you known?" he finally decided to ask Hotch.

"A while," the man answered from his seat at the opposite end of the table from Rossi. "They even babysat Jack a few times for me."

"I don't believe this," Derek scowled. "Pretty boy's got himself a girl for the last six years, and I never knew? Outrageous."

"Technically, we've been married even longer than that," Spencer responded, as if he was unaware of the imminent glower that Derek was sending his way. "Eight years since Vegas."

"That's longer than any of my marriage," Rossi remarked before sipping his drink.

The laugh that resonated upon Rossi's little comment elicited an affectionate smile on your lips.

"So, you live in D.C., then?" JJ asked, at last stirring the conversation away from the topic of your and Spencer's secret marriage-slash-relationship.

"I do, yeah. But most of the time, I live out of my suitcase," you answered. "My firm has clients all over the country. A few overseas, as well. I'm lucky if I even get to have an entire week to sleep uninterrupted in my own bed."

Even then, you truthfully quite enjoyed the work you had to do. You didn't mind having to travel some place new every other week. In fact, you somehow believed that your constant need to travel for your job, and Spencer for his, was one of the reasons why the two of you worked so well together.

Although people might think that two adults who had to travel for a living were a recipe for a disastrous relationship, you and Spencer had so far proven otherwise. Because of your respective schedules, you could sympathize more with the other anytime they had to go somewhere urgent for work. It only made you savor every single second you spent together because of how much precious each one of them became.

The rest of lunch unraveled with the same bucket of smiles, jokes, and laughter. It felt good to finally tell the few people who meant the world in Spencer's life the truth about your relationship. It was also a huge relief to see them opening their arms and welcoming you into the family without an ounce of hesitation.

"Hotch?" Spencer called out after everyone exited the restaurant. "Will it be okay if I stay in the city for one more night?"

"As long as you promise to be back for tomorrow's briefing," Hotch reminded sternly, but the meaningful look he passed over you before he entered his vehicle spoke of a thousand things left unsaid.

"It was so nice meeting you," JJ said as she took you in her arms. "And I'm sorry again about your friend."

"Thank you. And thanks for all of your hard work in catching those guys."

"Of course, it's what we do." JJ smiled as she pulled away. "Invite me and Emily the next time you and Penelope hang out, okay?"

"Will do," you promised.

You watched as every single one of them scrambled into the two black SUVs, waving your goodbye until the cars drove out of your sight.

"I think that went well," you commented before looking up at Spencer. "Do you?"

"I think it went as well as it could."

"So--" you began, circling your arms around Spencer's neck, "--we have more than twelve hours until you're expected back at Quantico. What do you wanna do?"

Spencer nudged your nose with his. "I can think of a few activities we can partake in."

"Really?"

"Really."

Just as he was a hairbreadth away from pressing his lips to yours, you suddenly tore yourself out of Spencer's arms.

"Like getting some frozen yogurts?" you asked giddily, smirking at the dumbfounded look that you managed to put on Spencer's face.

"Fine. Let's go get some frozen yogurts."

Spencer had to hide his amused grin at your elated squeals. He was more than content at that moment to let you produce those addictive sounds at the mere prospect of frozen yogurts.

But later that night, he had a whole different set of activities lined up to pull those same sounds out of you once more.

And it might or might not potentially involve an entirely different yet creative use of frozen yogurts as well.

Spencer simply just hadn't decided yet.

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[avis-writeshq]

02 — haunted

summary: “something’s gone terribly wrong, you’re all i wanted.”/“you’re not gone, you can’t be gone.” pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: best friends to lovers, hurt/comfort, fluff, angst warnings: rated 16+ for alcohol, religious talk (inaccurate portrayal of Christianity), vomit, INCREDIBLY CANON COMPLIANT ‼️IF YOU WERE TRIGGERED BY S2 EP15 REVELATIONS IN CRIMINAL MINDS, DO NOT READ THIS‼️ wc: 10.1k a/n: another special mention to @astrophileous for beta reading and hyping me up!! love you loads zahra 🤎 (she's also doing an AMAZING derek morgan series that i have the honour in beta-in so if you have time please do check it out!! it is an absolute work of art) SPARKS FLY MASTERLIST // MAIN MASTERLIST

There is never a dull day when working at the BAU. After weeks of cases and paperwork, a night out was exactly what everyone needed. A place to get drunk, have fun and unwind– and O'Keefe's was the exact place to do just that.

“You know, you can at least try to look like you’re having fun,” Emily muses, nudging your shoulder. 

Emily joined the team soon after Elle had resigned, and as much as you missed your friend, you enjoyed Emily’s company. She’s too observant for her own good; grinning at you from across the room whenever you have the slightest interaction with certain people. She’s a brilliant addition to the team, much to your chagrin, but you know it’s all in good fun. Well, all in good fun for her.

You shoot her a playful glare, sipping on your drink. “I am having fun!”

“Liar,” Emily says instantly, grinning at you. “C’mon, what’s going on?”

“Nothing,” you deny, “I’m just tired. Things have been… busy to say the least. I’m just glad that the team is getting some R&R. Well deserved, might I add. How are you? You know, with joining the team and all that.”

She smiles in your direction before downing a shot and shrugging. “It’s been good! Yeah, everyone is so… welcoming. It’s nice.”

“Different to a desk job?” You ask with a teasing lilt in your voice. 

Emily laughs softly. “Yeah, totally.”

Your gaze shifts to where Spencer is sitting, for once enjoying himself in such a crowded area. He’s talking to two strangers at a table, his hands gesticulating as he explains something and the two people seem thoroughly amused. 

“So… Spencer, huh?”

You frown. “Why does everyone keep saying that?”

Emily laughs, “You’re staring at him with heart eyes. Anyone can tell. Except for him, apparently.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“For a profiler, you’re a horrible liar.”

You let out something that sounds akin to a dying cow, turning your attention back to your drink. Your attention wavers and it shifts back to Spencer who is enthusiastically talking about something to the two amused guests. He grins at them as they drink, his own cup still full. Derek is thoroughly enjoying himself as he dances with a group of girls, and you can see Aaron and Haley dancing together on the floor as well. It’s wholesome, seeing everyone in their casual wear and just having fun.  

“You should talk to him,” Emily tries again, nudging you. “I’ll buy you a drink if you do.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You’re bribing me to talk to my best friend?”

“I’m bribing you to give me entertainment,” she corrects, laughing.

“You’re horrible,” you tell her, smiling, as you walk past her in Spencer’s direction. “I expect that drink to be delivered to me.”

“Deal!” She calls after you, downing a shot as she watches you. 

Spencer smiles when he sees you make your way over to him, shuffling his chair to the side to give you more room. 

“Hi,” he murmurs, pulling your seat closer to him. “Having fun?”

“I should be asking that to you,” you respond, smiling. The two people he was once talking to take their leave, giggling about something you couldn’t quite make out. “I didn’t mean to scare away your company.”

He immediately shakes his head at your words. “I’d rather talk to you anyway.”

You can’t help the silly grin that spreads across your face or the way your cheeks heat up and you cough. “Well, I hope I can live up to your expectations.”

Spencer laughs, his hand gravitating to your knee and he squeezes good-naturedly. “You exceed them.”

You think he’s trying to kill you and you swear you stop breathing as you choke out, “I’m glad.”

It isn’t long before Emily makes good on her promise, and a waiter appears on your left. He presents a drink to your table, the glass adorned with a lemon rind and a raspberry, and you eagerly take a gulp. 

Spencer frowns a little as he watches you drink. “Aren’t you going to question who it’s from?”

“I know who it’s from,” you respond cheerfully, letting out a contented sigh. You offer the drink to him, moving the straw so that it’s pointing in his direction. “Want some?”

He eyes the pink drink suspiciously. “What is it?”

“It’s a Pink Bikini!” You chirp, sipping the drink again. “Like… coconut rum, raspberries, and lemonade. It’s good, Spence, you can barely taste the alcohol.”

His nose scrunches at the idea of coconut rum. “I dunno.”

“You’re not gonna get drunk from one sip,” you protest happily, a little tipsy. “It’s good! Besides, how do you know you’re not going to like it if you never try it?”

“You’re literally drunk right now!” He points out, laughing a little and moving the drink out of your reach. “Give it to me.”

“That’s only because I had a couple drinks earlier,” you argue, lunging for the glass. You’re quick but Spencer is quicker (and taller), and he chugs the drink before slamming it back onto the table. “Spencer!”

He grins at you, smacking his lips as he plays with the paper straw. “I’m protecting you, (Y/N). Who knows what you would’ve done if you drank any more.”

“You’re insufferable,” you chastise half-heartedly, “I was thirsty.”

“I have water,” he says, fishing a plastic bottle out of his satchel. He cracks the lid open, taking a sip himself before passing it to you. “Drinking even moderate amounts of alcohol can lead to dehydration. Drinking water slows down this effect, allowing the liver to metabolise the alcohol that was already consumed. This also means you won’t have as bad a hangover tomorrow morning.”

You beam at him, taking tentative sips from his water bottle. The fact that you’re drinking from the same bottle as him is not lost on you, nor the fact that he finished your drink by using your straw– your lipgloss stained straw– and he didn’t even bat an eye. 

“What would I do without you?” You croon, handing his bottle back. 

“Probably die of dehydration,” he responds, taking one last gulp of water, before returning the bottle back to his bag. 

“Ah, yes, that’s right,” you laugh again, beaming at him. You’re not sure if it’s from the drinks, but you can feel your cheeks begin to flush. Did it get hotter in here?

“Hey, sorry to be the bearer of bad news but we have a case,” JJ pats your shoulder sympathetically, frowning. “Horrible timing, but it’s urgent.”

You all but whine. “But I’m tipsy.”

“I’ve got aspirin in my bag,” JJ says, “you’ll be fine.”

“Stupid serial killer,” you huff, getting up from your seat. “They owe me a day off.”

*** 

“You know it never fails. Just as I’m getting my groove thang going, bam! We’re back at the BAU,” Derek says, pouring himself a much needed cup of coffee and sitting at the roundtable.

Spencer shrugs. “You know, statistically, a case doesn’t come in with any more frequency if you’re at a party or gathering than if you aren’t. It’s a… trick of the mind. We merely remember the ones that came in that way more.”

“Besides, how long does it take for you to get your ‘groove thang’ going anyway?” You tease, sipping from your own cup of coffee, and Emily cackles from beside you. 

“Only when he’s sleeping,” Gideon comments, walking into the conference room and taking off his coat. 

Hotch’s brows raise in a mixture of surprise and concern. “Where were you tonight?”

“I told you, I went to the Smithsonian,” he grunts as he sits into his chair.

“You missed a good time,” Emily insists, smiling.

“I had a good time,” Gideon responds, his attention turning back to the screen where JJ was getting ready to present the latest case. 

“Well, that’s definitely over,” she says, flicking the screen on. “Georgia. The Kyles– Dennis and Lacy– were murdered an hour ago in the suburban Atlanta home.”

Hotch’s brows raise in surprise. “An hour ago?”

JJ nods. “Police were on the scene unusually fast.”

“Why?” Derek asks, leaning over the table.

“One of the UnSubs called them and told them that the other was about to murder the victims.”

You huff out a laugh in disbelief. “You’re kidding.”

“From inside the house.” JJ purses her lips, gesturing to the transcript that was printed out in their files. “According to the dispatcher, the first male sounded terrified and begged them to get there before the other, who they both identified as Raphael, was about to kill the sinners that lived there.”

“‘Sinners’?” Hotch echoes.

JJ nods again, a grimace painted over her features. “The 911 centre is going to send Garcia the tape.”

“How fast was the police response time?” Spencer asks, glancing at the screen.

“Four minutes, twenty-six seconds. During which time Raphael was able to do…” JJ clicks a button on the remote and an array of gruesome crime scene photos popped up onto the screen. “This.”

“In four and a half minutes?” Emily asks incredulously, frowning. 

Garcia immediately turns away from the screen, clutching her mug closer to her chest. You can’t help but cringe as well from the violence presented in the photos: blood everywhere, smeared across the walls and floors of the house, and the victims lifeless. 

“Mr. Kyle is a dot-com millionaire. His company is one of the largest employers in the community. There’s going to be media coverage. Also, when they arrived, the police found this displayed prominently on the bed.”

Another image appears on the screen, this time a page of the Bible placed into a plastic evidence bag with a certain section highlighted. 

“Revelation, Chapter 6, Verse 8,” Hotch reads for the rest of the team.

Derek can’t help but scoff. “They’re killing sinners.” 

“These guys are on a mission. And mission-based killers will not stop killing,” Spencer says with a wince. 

“‘And I looked, and behold, a pale horse, and his name that sat upon him was Death,” Hotch begins, eyes trained on the Bible page.

Gideon continues, his voice quiet and grim, “And Hell followed with him.”

*** 

You sigh tiredly as you slump into the seat beside Spencer, playing with the cap of your water bottle. The sky outside is painted in oranges and purples as the sun begins to rise, and you try to hold back the frustrated groan when you see the blaring ‘4:22AM’ flash on your watch. 

“Is everything okay?” Spencer asks quietly, looking over at you.

You shake your head, running your fingers through your hair. “I just… I have a bad feeling about this case. There’s something… off about it.”

He hums in thought, “we’ve dealt with religious motives before, though.”

“I know but just–” you huff, leaning against the headrest. “It’s just weird. I mean, usually if one of the UnSubs were partnered with someone who was a liability, they’d eliminate them. But that’s just not happening here.”

“Don’t think about the case,” Spencer says gently, resting the palm of his hand flat against your knee. “It’ll be fine, trust me.”

When you don’t respond, he pokes your cheek gently shooting you a lopsided smile. “Hey. It’ll be okay.”

“I hope it will be,” you respond quietly, moving so that your cheek is pressed against his shoulder. “But you saw those images; what the UnSubs can do in less than five minutes. I know it’s nothing we haven’t seen before but–”

“(Y/N).” He squeezes your knee again and you flush as he continues to speak. “It’ll be okay. We’ll be back home before you know it. Trust me.”

You nod, although you can’t shake this feeling off. “Promise you’ll be safe?”

Spencer smiles at you. “Promise.”

*** 

“I think I’m gonna be sick,” you mutter, turning away as the video of Mr. Kyle being murdered plays on repeat. Your stomach churns at the mere mental image that pops up in your mind, and a chill run downs your spine. 

The case is a lot more gruesome than you expected it to be, especially when it came to the team’s attention that a video of the murder was circulating the internet. The video was currently being played on loop, with the voice of the UnSubs playing out of the computer. You thought you saw it all but this was unlike anything you’ve ever experienced. 

That is, until Spencer stood from his seat. 

“Agent Franks?” He whispers, looking towards the lead detective. “Does this building have wireless internet?”

Agent Franks nods. “Yeah. Why?”

Spencer swallows, gesturing to the computer. “That camera’s on right now. The computer has connected itself to the internet; it’s streaming a video feed somewhere.”

Hotch’s concern only deepens, along with the frown on his face. “Can we trace the stream to the destination?”

“If we keep it open, Garcia might be able to–” Spencer begins, only to be cut off by a beeping from the computer.

In bright red lettering, the words: ‘THE ARMIES OF SATAN SHALL NOT PREVAIL’ flash against the black screen before turning off.

“So, they’re controlling it remotely?” Hotch asks, his arms crossed over his chest.

“Is that even possible?” Emily asks in disbelief. 

“Yeah, you can totally access someone’s computer remotely. It’s actually done a lot today when a mortal calls for tech support. Instead of giving you instructions the tech can work on your computer from wherever she is,” Garcia explains through the phone. 

“And they maintain the access even after the work is done?” Hotch asks.

“They’re not supposed to, but I suppose you could install a Trojan horse.”

Spencer turns to Gideon. “Something left in the computer to be turned on later. It’s the same way that websites get pop-up ads onto your computer.”

“Garcia can you check the Kyles’ phone records and see if they called tech support in the last six months?” Hotch requests as he flips through the Kyle family’s folder. 

“Right-o. Oh, and if you get me the laptop I can search the drive for anything implanted there.”

Hotch nods. “As fast as we can.”

“By the way, this video? It’s gone crazy viral.”

Gideon frowns. “What does that mean?”

“That means it’s the most downloaded video on the entire Internet. Worldwide. And judging by the responses people seem to think it’s pretty cool.”

“Call us if you find anything on the Kyles’ computer,” Hotch mutters, before the phone hangs up.

“Honestly, they probably don’t even realise that the video is real,” you say quietly, pinching the bridge of your nose. “I mean, you see a video on the internet. The last thing you’d think is that it’s actual people being murdered.”

“They probably think that it’s marketing for a horror film or something,” JJ adds on, but the look on her face is just as disgusted.

“Well, the UnSubs were right about one thing,” Derek mutters, nodding grimly. “The world is pretty screwed up.”

*** 

After hours of going through files and trying to find a paper trail, you’re left with a mountain of paperwork in front of you and sore eyes. You press the pads of your fingers against the corner of your eyes, slumping over the table. 

“Hey.” 

Spencer’s voice brings you out of your thoughts and you peek a look at him. “Hm?”

A takeaway cup of coffee is placed in front of you and you immediately perk up. He chuckles softly, patting your head. “You looked like you needed it.”

You spy the name written across the paper cup and frown. “It’s your coffee.”

“You need it more than me,” he says honestly, smiling. “Besides, I’m okay.”

You take a tentative sip of the drink, the sweetness of the sugar overwhelming the bitter taste of the coffee but you don’t mind it. Instead, you didn’t actually mind it; especially because it’s from him. 

“Thank you,” you murmur. “We can share it if you want.”

He shakes his head ‘no’, turning back to the files on the page. “Where did you get up to?”

“Nowhere special. Agent Franks is right; there’s nothing in any of the files relating to knife fights that are remotely similar to the case,” you say, slumping against the table and leaning your head on your arm. “I’ve got six or so left to go through but I’m not getting much luck anyway.”

At that moment, JJ enters the room, holding another cream coloured file. “What if we were looking at this the wrong way?”

Hotch turns to her. “What do you mean?”

“I looked for unsolved home invasions. Three months ago there was a prowler called in directly outside of the Kyles’ house.”

Your brows knit together at her words and look up at her. “A prowler?”

JJ nods. “The witness was walking his dog in a nearby park. Going back to his car, he saw a man in dark clothing go over the back wall and start sneaking up to the house. By the time the police got there, the prowler was gone.”

“Only one man?” Hotch asks. 

“Apparently.”

“Was the witness able to describe the man?” Spencer questions.

JJ looks into the papers before shaking her head. “If he did, it’s not in this case file.

Hotch looks at JJ then back at the corkboard. “Is there a name and address to the witness?”

“Tobias Hankel,” JJ reads. “Lives about an hour from here.”

Hotch lets out a heavy sigh, rubbing his eyes. “It’s a long shot, but he might be able to give us a description. Why don’t you and Reid go out there, see if you can find Mr Hankel, and see if he remembers anything.”

You immediately frown, perking up at his words. “I can go too, sir. There’s a safety in numbers.”

“You’re exhausted and we need you here,” Hotch says, immediately shutting your suggestion down. “We don’t need three people to talk to a witness.”

Your face falls and your stomach churns. “I understand that, sir, but it’s late and wouldn’t it be safer if more people go?”

“We’ll be fine,” Spencer reassures, squeezing your arm. “We’ll be armed and we’ve got our phones.”

A small breath escapes you and you nod slowly, chewing your bottom lip. “Okay. Be safe.”

He smiles. “I will.”

JJ snickers lightly, turning to Hotch. “Be safe,” she echoes, grinning.

Hotch can’t help but chuckle as he returns with, “I’ll be so safe.”

“Oh shut up,” you laugh, rolling your eyes. “I’m gonna kill you.”

JJ grins. “But how will that keep us safe?”

You throw an eraser at her shoulder in response and she laughs loudly, walking out of the room. Spencer squeezes your arm again, rubbing your shoulder through the fabric of his jumper before following after her. 

It isn’t long before the lead detective rushes into the room, his words flying out of his mouth. “Agent Hotchner, we got another murder.”

*** 

“Tobias Hankel is the UnSub.”

Five words is all it takes for your world to come crashing down around you. Hankel? The UnSub? Your mouth is dry as the head detective explains about the dogs and you think you’re going to throw up. Your mind spins and your chest pounds with anxiety because oh God, what’s going to happen to the others? 

“We sent Spencer and JJ there,” you whisper, your throat closing up. You tug desperately at your collar, trying to breathe. “Oh my God, we sent them there. We sent them there.”

“Hey, hey,” Derek is quick to ground you, gripping your shoulders firmly. “They’ll be okay. It’s Spencer Genius Reid and Jennifer Bad-ass Jareau. They’ll be okay.”

You shake your head firmly, pulling away from his grasp and clutching your head. “I should be there with them. I should have gone with them. We don’t know what Tobias is capable of, Morgan, something could have happened to them.”

“We’re dispatching police now,” the detective says, getting off the phone. 

Tears spill from the corners of your eyes and you try to keep your breathing steady. It doesn’t work. The room is spinning and you can’t see straight. The words your team are trying to get through to you fades into background noise and you let out a choked sob. 

“They could be–” Your words don’t make it off your tongue and you turn, gesturing to the black screen that was once playing the video of the woman and the dogs. “Oh my God.”

“(Y/N),” Emily holds your shoulders tightly, her words a mixture of firmness and care as she tries to snap you out of it. “They’re going to be okay. We have to go there now.”

“They can’t be gone. Spencer can’t be gone,” you say, more to yourself than anything. “Yeah. Okay. Let’s go. We have to find them.”

The others don’t need to be told twice. You get into the passenger seat with Emily, trying to calm your breathing. One hour is too long. Why does Tobias have to live so far away? You press the palm of your hand to your mouth, the lump in your throat getting bigger. Hot tears fall down your cheeks as the world becomes a blur of flashing lights and you try not to cry. It’s your fault. You should have been there with him. There’s safety in numbers. Why didn’t you trust your gut?

“Don’t do that,” Emily says sternly, gripping the wheel tighter. 

You can’t bring yourself to respond, merely shaking your head adamantly. 

“Stop blaming yourself,” Emily tries again, glancing at you for a second before turning her attention back to the road. “It’s not your fault.”

“I should be there with them.” Your voice cracks pathetically and you wipe furiously at your eyes.

“You couldn’t have known.”

“I should have.”

She looks at you again. “Stop. You couldn’t have known. It’s not your fault.”

The rest of the car ride is silent. You’ve learned that this is the hardest part of the job: losing someone. Losing someone because of a job. It seems ridiculous, considering that it’s something so miniscule in the grand scheme of things, and yet it is the most common factor in divorces. A lack of commitment. Instead of committing to something that actually matters and can’t be replaced, their attention turns to something so lacklustre. If Spencer were here he would tell you the exact statistics. If Spencer were here, you wouldn’t even need to think about the statistics. 

The sound of sirens echo through the once quiet country area and the police officers file out of their cars. You fasten your Kevlar vest over your chest hastily, fumbling with the clasps as you jump out of the car. 

“John, Bobby, take the house with Hotch, Gideon and (L/N),” the captain orders, pointing towards the house. 

Your stomach lurches as Hotch busts the door open, and you move upstairs with your gun pointed out. 

“Clear!” You yell, rendezvousing with Hotch and Gideon soon after. 

“Downstairs is clear,” Hotch says, nodding towards you. 

“Then where the hell is he?” Gideon mutters, looking around the rooms of the house.

The blood rushes to your ears and the air grows thick. You can’t breathe. The house is unmaintained with mould growing in the corners of the rooms and dust gathering on the shelves, the paint on the walls cracking from water damage. Your eyes sting as the air pricks at your skin, and your legs carry you down the stairs and out the house.

“JJ,” you breathe, your eyes wide as you meet the blonde sitting at the back of an ambulance. You pull her into a hug. “You’re okay.”

It’s a different JJ to what you’re used to. She’s always been put together with not a hair out of place. She’s usually so full of life and mirth, bringing a sense of serenity and security when you need it most but this… 

Her blue eyes are red and puffy from crying and she’s shaking miserably against your body. She scratches at her wrists and picks at the bandages, her bottom lip trembling. Her gun is set beside her, not in the holster she usually carries it in.

“(Y/N),” she sobs, her voice cracking. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“What happened?” You demand. “Where’s Spencer?”

“I’m so sorry,” she repeats, shaking her head. “I tried–”

“Where is he, Jennifer?” You ask, pulling away from her like she burned you. “Where is he?”

She sobs again, clutching her head. “I don’t know, we separated–”

“What do you mean you separated?!” You’re trying not to scream. Your thoughts are running a million miles an hour. Spencer is gone. He’s gone. “Why would you do that?”

Jennifer lets out a wail, trying to explain herself through broken words. “We didn’t– he said– I’m sorry I’m sorry–”

“‘Sorry’ doesn’t bring him here, does it?” The words are harsh and low, and you tug at your collar again. “He’s not here, Jennifer! Does that mean nothing to you?!”

“(L/N), that’s enough.”

Hotch’s voice makes you snap your head in his direction and you see red. 

“I told you I should have gone with them,” you snap, and it doesn’t even occur to you that this man is your boss. “If I went with them, Spencer would still be here right now!”

“(L/N).”

“No.” You glare at him menacingly, too deep in your anger to even comprehend anything else. “He should be here right now! He should– he should be spouting out statistics or coming up with some theory! He should be here and he’s not!”

“We’ll find him. Trust me.”

“I did!” You yell, your voice fervent. “I trusted your judgement! And look where that got us. Spencer is gone. He’s not here, Hotch, because I trusted you!”

“(Y/N), enough.” Hotch is firm and he stares you down. “That is enough, do I need to remind you who you are speaking to?”

In an instant you stop, your heart lurching and you quiver. “... This is my fault.”

He immediately shakes his head no. “It’s not your fault.”

“I should have gone with him. I should have– it’s my fault. It’s my fault.” Your eyes well with tears and you tug at your hair erratically. “He can’t be gone. He’s not gone. He’ll figure something out. Why didn’t I do something? I should have–”

“Stop it. (Y/N), stop.” Hotch grips your shoulders squarely, bending down so that he’s eye level with you. “Take deep breaths.”

Your lungs burn as you try to breathe, hot ragged breaths leaving your lips shakily as you cover your face with the palms of your hands. Tears fall down your cheeks and gather in your hands as you make a desperate attempt to calm yourself down. It’s all too much. The sky is pitch black and the feeling of cold rain stings and bites your skin. The sounds of sirens fade away and for a moment it’s just quiet. Quiet, except for the words and the voices that swirl in your mind. 

“A man that matches Hankel’s description was spotted in the next town over.”

Derek’s words bring you out of your thoughts and you manage a soft, “What?”

“Alright,” Hotch nods, before turning back to you. “Go back to the police department.”

“What?” Your ears are ringing. You must have heard wrong. “No. No, no, I can’t– no, Hotch, I’m not going back to the police department. Spencer is missing.”

“You’re too close to the case.”

A humourless laugh leaves your lips as you stare at him. “We’re all too close to the case, Hotch. Look around!”

“You attacked JJ and you raised your voice at me. I want you to go back to the police department and work the case from there.” He speaks to you as if he were speaking to a child and it makes you feel sick.  

“Oh, so you’re punishing me?”

“No, I’m using you,” he says firmly, and then his voice softens. “It won’t do you any good to be here, (Y/N), you know that.”

“Aaron,” you try again, your voice wavering. “Please, don’t do this to me.”

“Go back and find us something that we can use.” He turns to one of the policemen. “Make sure she gets there.”

The policeman nods, tipping his hat, and gesturing for you to follow him. 

“Wait I– let me talk to JJ. I need– just, please,” you say quickly, clearing your throat. “Sir.”

He’s sceptical before nodding. “Go ahead.”

You don’t need to be told twice. In moments you turn back to the ambulance, letting out a heavy breath. “I’m sorry.”

JJ shakes her head adamantly. “No, you’re right. It was my fault.”

“It’s not,” you say quietly. “I know Spencer and I know you. It was… probably his idea to split up.”

She smiles wryly, fiddling at the bandage on her arm. 

“It’s not your fault,” you say again. You’re not sure who you’re trying to convince anymore. “You went through something too and I ignored that and that wasn’t right of me. I’m sorry.”

JJ sniffles, pursing her lips. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be,” you respond quietly, patting her arm. “I need to go. Um, Hotch wants me off the case, or something.”

She nods. “Okay.”

You look at her again, the guilt building like bile in your stomach. “I really am sorry.”

“I know,” she whispers, wiping the tears away from her eyes. “We’ll find him.”

You don’t respond.

*** 

Everything hurts. His head is pounding and he can feel the sticky blood drip from the side of his head and against his cheek. His feet hurt from each thwack of wood, and his wrists hurt from the handcuffs. It’s cold. So, so cold, and he feels so weak. No amount of knowledge or training could have prepared him for this.

Spencer’s throat throbs from crying. No matter how many times he tries to convince whatever personality is taking over Tobias, it never seems to work. What’s the point of being a profiler if he can’t even save himself?

The creaking of the door brings him out of his thoughts and he jolts. Tobias, at least who appears to be Tobias, enters the room carrying a slaughtered animal. A shiver runs down Spencer’s spine and all he can do is watch. 

“You need to eat,” the man says, his voice strangely soft and oddly calm. 

“What’s your name?” Spencer asks, his voice small.

The man looks back at him. “Tobias.”

“Tobias, who was here before?” The fear is obvious in his voice and Spencer just wishes for an ounce of Hotch’s stoicism or Derek’s bravery. 

Tobias chuckles weakly. “It was probably my father. I’m sorry if he hurt you.”

Before he could comprehend his movements, Tobias takes off his belt and walks over to him. Spencer fears the worst. Did Tobias’s father take over again? He tries to inch away, struggling against the restraints as best he could.

“W-What are you doing?” Spencer asks shakily, trying to pull away from him.

Tobias doesn’t respond, slipping one end of the belt above his elbow. Everything begins to click.

“No, no. Don’t. Please, please don’t.” He resorts to begging. 

In this moment, Spencer hates the way his mind works because he doesn’t need to know the statistics. He doesn’t need to know that 75% of drug abusers started out using pain killers. His head swirls with what Tobias could be using. Codeine? Heroin? Opium? The list goes on and he tries to keep his breathing steady.

“It helps,” Tobias says, ignoring the way Spencer trembles and shakes his head adamantly. “Don’t tell my father. He doesn’t know they’re here.”

Tobias takes the syringe and the bottle out of his pocket and Spencer sobs even harder. He tries to appease him again, shrinking away as best he could in his chair. 

“Please,” he tries again, his chest heaving and tears wetting his waterline. “Please, I don’t want it, I don’t want it.”

“Trust me. I know.”

“Please,” he begs, tears slipping down his cheeks. “Don’t.”

Tobias doesn’t listen. 

The effects are far too quick for codeine, heroin or opium and Spencer can feel it hit. He knows it’s wrong. He can go on for hours about the statistics about it but the feeling so euphoric that he can’t help it. And then he sees it. 

“We have another recruit as well. Came in a couple weeks ago,” Derek told him, walking him through the halls of the BAU headquarters. “She’s part of the academy Honours program. Top of the class, apparently.”

“Oh.” Spencer nodded slowly, fidgeting with the zip of his bag.

Derek grinned. “Relax, kid. You still have the most impressive résumé. She’s just an intern; doing paperwork, mainly.”

“I wasn’t– I wasn’t worried about that,” Spencer stammered, wetting his bottom lip. “I mean– not that I think she isn’t smart or anything. I just meant–”

“Kid, I mean it when you have to relax,” Derek snorted as he opens up the door to the bullpen “Meet the rest of the team.”

He walked through the doors, ready to make his mark. He’s spent so long believing that he was nothing but now… he took another step, meeting Hotch’s gaze and– he didn’t get very far when something catapulted into his side. There was a flurry of paper work and cream coloured files, case details splayed all over the floor. Spencer grunted a little, tumbling to the ground like a house of cards. 

“Oh, my God, I am– I am so sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going and I was running and I am not used to office attire! I am so sorry!” 

The ramblings of a girl– she couldn’t be older than him, at least, not by much– filled Spencer’s ears and he grimaces. “No, it’s– it’s okay. Don’t– uh– don’t worry about it.”

“(Y/N)...” JJ huffed out a quiet laugh, helping the other girl to her feet. “Are you guys okay?”

“I’m okay,” Spencer said, slowly getting to his feet. 

The girl didn’t do the same, instead scrambling to pick up the multitude of papers that litter the floor. “I’m fine! Just– great. Great. Brilliant.”

Spencer immediately started to reach for the papers, trying his best not crumple them up anymore than they already were. “You’re… the intern?”

“Is it that obvious?” You ask, breathless. “I’m still getting used to all…” You gesture wildly to the interior of the bullpen. “... this.”

“(Y/N), meet Doctor Spencer Reid. He’s the youngest addition to the team. Reid, meet (Y/N) (L/N). She’s part of the Academy Honours Program,” Gideon introduces, peering at the two of you from behind his glasses. 

“Hi,” you said meekly, stretching out your hand.

His words hitched in his throat because once he’s gotten past the flying papers and the fact that you literally ran into him, he realises just how beautiful you are. You were right there in front of him, close enough to touch but–

“I don’t shake hands,” he said quietly, the anxiety gnawing at his stomach. His fingers twitch at his sides and he moves them to grip the handle of his satchel. “Sorry.”

You smile at him and his heart thunders in his chest. Is this how Romeo felt when he met Juliet? Or how Charles Bingley felt when he met Jane Bennett? 

“It’s okay,” you told him, tucking the papers under your arm. “Don’t worry about it. So, you’re a doctor? That’s really cool!”

“Reid here got accepted into the BAU without even taking a physical exam,” Derek chimed in, practically bragging about Spencer’s intellectual prowess. “Isn’t that right, kid?”

“I’m not an athletic person,” Spencer said awkwardly, his worries dissipating when he heard you laugh good-naturedly. Regardless, he felt the urge to defend himself. “I’m not weak.”

JJ laughed along. “We know, Spencer.”

“I’m not weak… I’m not weak…”

“I don’t give a damn whether you’re weak or strong.” 

Spencer barely manages to blink his eyes open as he hears the familiar timbre of Tobias’s father’s voice fill the room. He’s slowly coming down from the high of the drugs and the room spins as he does. 

“Yell all you want boy,” Tobias sneers, bending down so that he’s eye level with Spencer. “Ain’t no one gonna hear you where you are.”

As if to prove his point, he begins to scream. Deep and rumbly, and it jolts Spencer back to reality. He wishes he was careful. He wishes he was with you.

*** 

“Tobias has dissociative identity disorder,” Garcia explains to you through the phone, and you slap a hand to your forehead. 

“That makes so much sense,” You mutter to yourself, pacing around the room of the police department. “I should have seen it. It was right there in front of me and I missed it.”

Penelope hums, her voice tense with worry. “Don’t beat yourself up about it. No one knew until we started digging into the journals and cross-checking dates.”

“I know but–” You rub your eyes, cringing as stars litter your vision– “it was just so obvious. What else have you gotten?”

It has been a little over ten hours since Hotch sent you back to the police department and you haven’t gotten much sleep. You tried, you swear you tried, but every time you see the terrified face of Spencer and it makes you sick. The whiteboard in front of you is littered with different evidence files and profiles. Profiles on Tobias, profiles on the victims, geographical profiles… the list goes on. 

“We know that Tobias is an addict,” Emily says. “He picked dilaudid as his poison.”

“For someone so hellbent on following the Bible, he’s incredibly hypocritical,” You say, jotting down the words onto the whiteboard. 

“His personality is split into that of his father, Charles, and Raphael,” Emily continues, and you can hear the frown in her voice. 

You’re about to say something when Garcia’s voice raises by an octave. 

“Oh God,” she squeaks, and you can hear the clicking of keys in the background. “Morgan? Emily, get the others, oh my God!”

“What’s going on?” You demand urgently, gripping the phone tighter. “Garcia, what’s going on?”

“It’s Spencer,” her voice is hushed and far from the speaker, and your heart sinks to your stomach.

“What happened? Penelope, what happened?”

“We have to go,” she says hurriedly, and the sound of footsteps from the rest of the team fill the speaker.

“No! Wait, don’t hang—“

The sound of the prolonged dial tone echoes in your ears and you resist the urge to scream. You press the pads of your fingers to your eyes, hot tears wetting your skin. Crying will get you nowhere and you know that. You know that Spencer is holding on. He’s relying on the BAU to save him. 

You gather all the available files on Charles Hankel, spreading them around the table. There’s not much to read; he’s lived a relatively quiet life. He was a farmer, his wife left him… dead end. Again. You’re at your wit’s end and you grab your keys. 

“John, want to work on a federal case?” You ask, shaking your keys. The younger policeman nods eagerly and you point to the door. “Great. Let’s go.”

It’s a small country town in Atlanta. Someone has to know something, especially if Tobias was a drug abuser. 

“We’re going to a few Narcotics Anonymous groups,” You explain to John who looks a little too excited to be sitting in a federal car. “Ask questions on Tobias Hankel and Charles Hankel. Someone has to know something.”

“All due respect, um, ma’am,” John stammers, and you raise an eyebrow amusedly. He coughs before continuing, “why aren’t you with the rest of the team?”

You falter, turning your attention back to the road. “They need me to work it from here. It doesn’t matter, anyway.”

Two miserable hours pass by with not much luck. Two hours that could have been used for something more meaningful than asking a bunch of drugged up assholes about the UnSub. Anxiety claws at your chest again as you flick through the answers. It’s nothing you didn’t already know. 

“I got something,” John says a little breathlessly, jogging back over to you. 

“Yes?” You need something. Anything. 

“A few sheep were stolen off of a farmer’s property,” he says, flipping through the notebook and reading off his scrawny handwriting. “Wasn’t Charles a farmer?”

“What does that have to do with–” You feel your mouth go dry and you turn to him. “Which farm?”

“Which– um…” He swallows. “Mcallister? Shawn Mcallister.”

In seconds you’re dialling Garcia again and she picks up with a trembling, “hello?”

“Is Spencer alive?” You ask firmly, slamming the car door. 

“Y-Yes. He’s– it’s not good, (Y/N),” she whimpers, clicking on the keyboard. “There was another murder. Spencer had to– he had to– he had to choose who to save. The UnSub fed a video to us, (Y/N), it’s horrible.”

There was another murder? John seizes up beside you and you grimace. You keep forgetting that John is practically a kid, barely twenty-one, and he hasn’t even seen the horrors of the world yet. 

“But he came back, right? To Spencer?” You ask, gripping the steering wheel tighter in an effort to keep yourself steady. “Penelope, Tobias posted a video of the latest murder, right? When was it posted?”

“9:23,” she says woefully, typing away.

“Okay, and…” you check the police radio, biting your lip nervously. “Okay, it says that the call for the murder came in at 9:04.”

There’s a little static in the background along with some shuffling before she responds. “Um… okay?”

“John, I need a map. Where’s– goddamn it– where’s the map of the area, John?!”

He fumbles, spreading the paper open. “Here!”

“That road– it’s 60 miles an hour, right? That means he needs to be–” you scribble across the map, frowning. “That’s within seventeen miles of the crime scene. There’s a farm, uh, poaching or something. Mcallister farm?”

“We’ll find something,” Penelope says quietly. “I’ll try find the farm area. He is going to be okay, I promise.”

You let out a heavy breath. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

*** 

The guilt alone is enough to kill him. Spencer knows that he is not at fault for this; Gideon said so. Regardless, he can’t get their faces out of his head. They were happy. What if they had kids? They were good people; they didn’t deserve to die the way they did. Spencer’s head pounds as he slumps against the chair, his breath quickening when he realises that Tobias is right there.

“Sorry, I had to leave for a while,” Tobias, the real Tobias, says quietly, strapping the belt to Spencer’s arm again.

He’s felt this so many times now. The high, and then the inevitable low. There’s no point fighting it, Spencer tries to justify, it’s biology. 

“You can leave again,” he says softly, “and you can take me with you.”

“My father would be angry,” Tobias says, drawing the liquid up the syringe.

“Not if he can’t find us.”

Tobias scoffs. “He always finds me.”

“If you tell me where we are, my friends will come and they’ll save us,” Spencer pleads, trying to look him in the eye.

“We can’t be saved,” he says dismissively, flicking the syringe. 

Spencer sniffles, and for a split second he feels the fear course through his veins. “We can. We can, I promise, if you tell me where we are I’ll save us both.”

“Listen to me. It’s not worth fighting.” Tobias pauses, readying the syringe. “Tell me it doesn't make it better.”

The silence that follows is humiliating. He hates the way that he isn’t fighting anymore but he can’t. It’s almost as if his body doesn’t even want to listen to him. Tobias doesn’t waste another moment and the familiar feeling of artificial ecstasy floods Spencer’s mind.

“Tell me something I don’t know about you.”

The phrase was so unfamiliar and Spencer’s brows furrowed as he looked at you. It has been a couple weeks since you were officially indoctrinated into the BAU and he couldn’t be any happier. It felt nice to talk to someone who was his age, especially because he never really knew anyone of his age back in Las Vegas. 

“What do you mean?” He asked. 

You laughed and his heart fluttered in his chest. He remembered the feeling distinctly; how could he forget? The feeling is still the same now.

“I mean… tell me something not a lot of people know about you. Like… okay, I’ll go first. Um… my favourite flowers are hydrangeas. The purple ones.” 

He committed that information to memory. Every year for your birthday he would buy you a new pot of hydrangeas for your apartment or something flower related like an automatic waterer or a replacement sun lamp. 

“Hydrangea macrophylla,” Spencer said slowly, his cheeks flushed. “It means… gratitude, grace, and beauty. It’s fitting.”

He relished in the way your eyes lit up and the way you smiled at him. “Okay, your turn. Tell me something I don’t know about you.”

“Um… my middle name is Walter?” He chuckled awkwardly, wetting his bottom lip. “No one really calls me that, though.”

You typed something on your computer, reading out loud, “The name Walter is Germanic in origin and means ‘commander of the army’.”

His cheeks burned in embarrassment and he nodded slowly. “Yeah.”

“I like it.” You grinned at him. “Walter.”

Spencer choked a little, the hairs on his neck standing on end and heat crawling up his cheeks. “You– you don’t have to call me that.”

“I won’t if you don’t like it,” you told him. 

“It’s not that I don’t like it,” he said quickly, his eyes widening. “I’m just not used to it.”

He remembers the way you beamed at him and the way he felt knowing that he made you happy. 

“Well then,” You began, meeting his gaze, “I guess that means I just have to call you that more often.”

Tobias’s yelling brings him back and all he can do is stare as he watches him slam on the keyboard angrily. A bright red pop up is flashing on his computer, and Tobias turns to Spencer with a murderous scowl. 

“They’re trying to silence my message.”

“I can’t control what they do,” Spencer defends tearfully, his voice wavering. “I’m not with them, I’m with you.”

Tobias scoffs again. “Really?”

He types something onto the keyboard and Gideon’s face show’s up on the screen. He’s leaning towards the camera, his words a mantra that Spencer repeats in his mind. 

“Reid,” the crackly audio sounds with Gideon’s voice, “if you’re watching, you’re not responsible for this, understand me? He’s perverting God to justify murder. You are stronger than him. He cannot break you.”

Tobias slams the computer off, walking back to him. “You think you can defy me?”

“I don’t know what he’s talking about–”

“You’re a liar!”

Spencer can only grimace in response, the words caught in his throat. Tobias must have been able to see something and the fear creeps into his heart again as the man lunges for his arm. Tobias forces Spencer’s sleeve up and the guilt crashes like waves. 

“You’re pitiful,” Tobias sneers, “Just like my son.”

Spencer wracks out a sob, silent pleas of mercy never leaving his lips. Maybe he does deserve this. Maybe, in some sick and twisted way, the universe is out to get him for all his shortcomings. Maybe, he thinks to himself as he watches Tobias turn the camera on, maybe he does deserve to die this way.

“This ends now,” Tobias snarls. “Confess your sins.”

“No,” he whimpers. 

Tobias’s fist collides with the side of Spencer’s face with a resounding slap. 

“Confess!”

“I haven’t done anything…”

His fist meets Spencer’s cheek again and all he can do is recoil in his chair.

“Tobias, help me,” he manages, but his plea is shut down almost instantly. 

“He can’t help you, he’s weak. Confess!” He hits him again and the pain is almost too much to bear. “Confess your sins.”

Spencer sobs. “No…”

In a fit of anger, Tobias throws Spencer to the ground. It hurts. Everything hurts as he feels the back of his head meet the cold musty ground. He can’t breathe. He feels like he’s underwater. Have to breathe, he needs to breathe, why can’t he breathe? He needs to see you again. He can’t die like this. He can’t, he can’t, he needs to breathe. He tries to take a breath of air but it’s like his mouth is full of water. And just when he thinks he reached the surface, he’s pulled under once again. 

Warmth. The feeling of his blood pumping to his ears is the first thing Spencer feels and his fingers twitch. He’s alive. There’s only one reason why that must have happened. 

“I was given CPR,” he rasps out, Tobias’s words swirling in his head. 

“There are no accidents,” Tobias says slowly. “How many members are in your team?”

Spencer can barely whisper the word. “Eight.”

“Seven, not including you. ‘The seven angels who had the seven trumpets prepared themselves to sound. The first sounding followed hail and they were thrown to Earth’.” He hoists Spencer’s chair upright, standing before him. “Tell me who you serve.”

“I serve you.”

“Then choose one to die.”

Spencer blanches, looking up at him. “What?”

“Your team members. Choose one to die.”

He doesn’t need to think when he responds, “kill me.”

Tobias jeers. “You said you weren’t one of them.”

“I lied.”

“Your team has seven other members. Tell me who dies.”

Spencer breathes in as if it were his last. “No.”

Tobias pulls out a revolver from his jacket pocket, spinning the cylinder before aiming it for Spencer’s head. “Choose, and prove you’ll do God’s will.”

“No.”

Tobias clicks the trigger and nothing happens so he repeats, “choose.”

“I won’t do it.”

The trigger clicks again and nothing happens. “Life is a choice.”

“No.” 

Spencer’s mind is racing. His first thought goes to you. He knows you would understand any and all references he throws in your direction, but it makes him sick just thinking about putting your life on the line. He needs something. He needs to think. 

“Choose.”

“I choose…” his voice stammers and he can barely see straight. “Aaron Hotchner.”

*** 

“We got him.”

The words echo in your mind as you pace up and down your hotel room, chewing on your destroyed nailbeds. It’s nearing two in the morning and you can’t sleep. The rest of the team are awake. Why should you be given the privilege of rest when none of them were able to? Why should you be given the privilege of rest when Spencer is out there fighting for his life? It’s not fair. Life isn’t fair.

When you hear the sirens outside you run out the door. Blood is pulsing in your ears and you’re still wearing the thin hotel slippers but it doesn’t matter. How could anything else matter? The car door clicks open and Emily helps Spencer out of the car. She whispers something to him and he looks in your direction. Those big hazel eyes stare at you with so much hurt and you can’t contain it anymore. 

“Spencer.”

His arms wrap around your waist, his nose pressing against your neck as he holds you, breathing in the smell of your vanilla perfume. He almost doesn’t believe you’re real. He pulls you impossibly closer, sniffling, and he can feel your fingers run through his hair. 

“You’re okay,” you whisper, trying to be reassuring, but he can hear the way your voice cracks. “You’re okay.”

“I should have listened to you,” He whimpers, feeling the cold wet rain soak through his shirt. “I should have– I’m so sorry.”

You shake your head. “Don’t be, Walter.”

The moment he hears that name spill from your lips he begins to cry. He’s okay. He’s with you now. You’re right here. 

“I thought–”

You shush him for the first and last time, squeezing his arms. “It’s okay. You’ll be okay.”

He wonders how a person could be so warm. Even in the cold Atlanta weather you’re still so warm. 

“Hotch wouldn’t let me work the case from the house,” you tell him quietly as you sit beside him on the bed. “Understandable. I screamed at him.”

He chuckles a little, flinching when you gently pull the bandage off the side of his face. He feels a lot better now that he’s clean, the shower more than necessary and he savours the feeling of warm water on his skin. The gash on his head is oozing sticky blood and you dispose of it accordingly, reaching into the first aid kit. 

“It’s gonna sting a little,” you tell him, pressing a damp cloth to the wound. 

He hisses at the contact, gripping your arm and he tries to change the subject. “Why did you scream at Hotch?”

You hum, continuing to clean the blood off his head. “I was mad at him.”

“It wasn’t his fault.”

“I know.”

You smile at him, applying a new bandage to his head. “It’s okay. I was able to help the case from here, anyway.”

“Stay with me,” he whispers, squeezing your hand. “Please?”

Your gaze softens. “Of course, Walter.”

He curls into your side, an arm wrapped around your middle and he breathes in the scent of your strawberry and honey shampoo. Your fingers curl in his hair, untangling the knots when your eyes flicker to your desk, the letter of resignation tucked inside your bag. He doesn’t need to know that. At least, not yet.

*** 

You knock at the door of Hotch’s office, chewing on your bottom lip. You remember being in this office for the first time four years ago when you were an intern; the way you shook with nerves and anticipation as you handed in your résumé for the honours program and then again when you were hoping to take the job full time. It’s ironic that you’re back at his office again, but for a very different reason. 

“Come in.”

The breath that leaves your lips is shaky and you take a seat in front of his desk. “Hotch.”

“(Y/N).”

You place the pristine white envelope onto the desk,watching the way his face shifts from stoic to surprised.

“You don’t have to do this,” He says, not touching the envelope. “The situation at hand was stressful. No one blames you for reacting the way you did.”

“It’s not just because of that,” you say slowly. “You were right. I was too involved.”

He shakes his head. “That’s not true.”

“It is,” you say quickly, a humourless laugh slipping at your words. “I would have killed him.”

Hotch looks at you, his eyes meeting yours. “You wouldn’t have.”

“I would have,” you say surely. “After what he did to Spencer, if I had found him I would have killed him. And I would have– I would have slept well. I love this team, Hotch, but I can’t separate those feelings when I’m on the field no matter how hard I try.”

He’s quiet for a moment before nodding, rising from his seat. “I’m assuming it’s a two-week’s notice?”

You nod, also getting up from your chair. “Yeah. I– I don’t want to just leave, you know?”

“We’re going to miss you,” he says, walking with you to the door, “but this will be good for you.”

“I know.” You can feel the stares of the rest of the team through the glass and you can’t help but smile. “They’re horrible at being nonchalant.”

“They’re profilers,” Aaron chuckles. “Can you blame them?”

“I guess not,” you muse, pulling the door open. “Thank you, Aaron.”

“You always have a place here, (Y/N),” he says gently as you walk back down to the bullpen. 

It doesn’t take long before the overflowing dam of questions burst and in moments Emily is crossing the room and sitting next to you. 

“You’re leaving the BAU?”

You look at her with wide eyes before laughing a little. “You… are very good at your job, huh?”

“Oh…” Penelope tackles you in a hug, her arms tight around your frame. “We’re going to miss you.”

JJ sniffles a little, joining the hug. “Don’t forget us.”

“As if I ever could.” A bittersweet smile rests on your lips. 

Derek hugs you as well, his chin on the top of your head. “Look after yourself, kid. We’ll make these last two weeks the best you’ve ever had.”

“If you ever need anything…” Emily begins slowly, squeezing your hands. “I’m here, okay?”

Gideon pats your shoulder lightly, a sad smile on his face. “You’re a good person. Never forget that.”

You nod, trying to blink away the tears that fill your eyes. “I know. Thanks, you guys.”

The opening and shutting of the BAU doors brings you out of your thoughts and the familiar head of brown hair stalking away makes your face fall. Gideon meets your gaze, gesturing towards the door. That’s all you need to run out of the bullpen. 

“Spencer– Spencer, wait, please.” You tug on his arm desperately. “Please–”

“What do you mean you’re leaving?” He asks, his voice cracking. It has only been a few days since the incident and he looks a little better. The scratches on his face are still visible, but they’re fading slowly. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I–” you falter, flinching at the pain and hostility in his voice. “It was never a good time.”

He scoffs quietly, rubbing at his arm. “You should have told me.”

“I couldn’t just randomly tell you,” you say, frowning. “How would that be fair?”

Spencer rubs his eyes, the dark bags beneath them even more prominent. “Why are you leaving?”

“I have to,” you say gently, resting a hand on his shoulder. “I love this job but I can’t do it anymore–”

“Why not?!”

“Because–!” You exhale, trying to calm yourself down. “Because I swore an oath when I took this job that I will put this country above myself. And I can do that. I would die for this country to protect the people in it, I will hunt down the people who make this country so unsafe and I will sacrifice myself willingly, but you? I can’t– I can’t lose you. If I had to choose between catching the UnSub and saving you, I would save you in a heartbeat. Even if that meant letting a bad guy go. Even if that meant more people would get hurt I would still choose you and I can’t let that happen.”

Your words deem him speechless and he shifts his weight on his feet. For a moment, all he can do is stare at you as your reasoning sinks in. It makes sense. He hates that it makes sense. 

“So that’s it?” He asks quietly, finally looking you in the eye. “You’re actually leaving?”

“Not for another two weeks,” you tell him truthfully. “Besides, you can still text me. And call me. You know where I live so you can always visit.”

He bites the inside of his cheek anxiously, teetering on his feet before hugging you tightly, burying his nose into your hair. “I’m going to miss you so much.”

“I’m going to miss you too.”

His grip is tight around you and if you paid attention you could feel him tremble. “I can’t do this job without you.”

“Don’t say that,” you whisper. “You can, Walter. You’re stronger than you think you are.”

There are so many things he wishes he could tell you. You’re right here. He doesn’t have to yearn for your touch anymore because you’re right here in his arms. He wants to tell you so many things. Like how he adores the colour of your eyes, or the way you smile, or the way your hair falls. He wants to tell you how much he likes spending time with you and how he feels so good with you but he can’t. The words are at the tip of his tongue so how can he not say anything?

“I–” love you– “I’m really going to miss you.”

“Me too,” you whisper. “Me too.”

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[confused-pyramid]

Coming Up For Air | s1

pairing: aaron hotchner x childhood bsf!reader

summary: Hotch and his childhood best friend working together at the BAU: a slow burn across the seasons.

word count: 10.4k

warnings: canon!typical violence, mentions of abuse, death of a spouse, slow slow slow burn, specific episodes mentioned in this part are 1x01, 1x06, 1x07, 1x08, 1x15, 1x16, and 1x22

a/n: I started rewatching Criminal Minds from the beginning, and this is what came out of it heh. This is the first part in a little series I'm starting that follows Hotch and his childhood best friend in the BAU, beginning with the pilot. If all goes well, this will continue through the rest of the show, with ~1 part per season :) Title is from Coming up for air by Signals in Smoke

series masterlist

You haven't used your oven in over a year. It's not that you don't like cooking - because you do - you just haven't had the time. If you could, you would blame it on the extra hours you have had to put in after starting at the BAU, but that wouldn't be fair. Your transfer to the unit was the only thing that got you through his death at all.

After your husband was shot and killed in action while tailing a kingpin of one of the New York mobs, you couldn't bear to be in this house at all. You had gone back home to stay with your father for a couple of months, but eventually you had to get back to your real life. With a month remaining on your bureau-mandated leave, you returned to the home you had shared, before one of the lower-level mob soldiers misfired -

You didn't let yourself think about it for almost a year, but time heals all wounds. The poets were right. At least you hope they are.

Even back at home, you still couldn't bear to be there alone, other than when you were sleeping. That's why your peloton was gathering dust and your kitchen went untouched, until just now.

So, of course, the call from the office comes when you're making dinner. It takes five minutes to change into slacks and a button-up, and two more to toss your half-cooked vegetables in the trash, before driving down to headquarters.

A fourth girl has been taken in Seattle, and the local PD only now decided to invite your team. You know the BAU isn't well-liked by the other departments, but that doesn't mean you aren't effective.

When you enter the building, you rush through the I.D. check and jog over to the lecture hall, where Morgan and Reid are standing outside of a neighboring office like children waiting for their father to come and get them.

Shooting them both a thin-lipped smile, you step inside just as they finish discussing the unsub's pattern.

"They want you back in the saddle," Hotch says to the man beside him after greeting you with a nod.

Your eyes are so immediately drawn to Hotch that it takes you a moment to realize that you recognize the man standing next to him. You haven't seen him since the day you were assigned to the BAU, mostly because you were technically transferred to this unit because of his extended leave.

What was supposed to be one month became six, before Hotch informed you that your temporary placement would be permanent, if you were willing to stay in Virginia.

It was a no-brainer.

You turn your gaze to Jason Gideon as everyone in the room stares at him expectantly. He looks self-assured, but you're sure the confidence is a front. "They sure they want me?"

"The order came from the director," Hotch says simply.

"Well," Gideon states, "we'd better get started, then."

Hotch glances over at you as everyone files out of the room and you raise your eyebrows momentarily, a quick check-in between the two of you. He nods imperceptibly and it's enough for now. He didn't tell you Gideon was coming back today, but now isn't the time to give him hell for that.

***

Hotch is the last to board the plane, and he takes his usual seat beside you, this time in the aisle, a few rows away from the rest of the team.

"I was going to tell you," he says as soon as you close the case file in your hands. "The section chief wants me to evaluate him to see if he's ready to return to the team."

"That's a lot of pressure." They have to know that Gideon will be able to smell him out within the day. "You sure it won't get in the way?"

Hotch makes that face you hate, the one that says he knows you're deflecting. "I was going to tell you."

It doesn't take much for you to forgive him. It helps that you trust him completely, especially after everything he has done for you.

"Still," you smile, bumping his shoulder with yours, "it would have been nice to know about the sudden change to my job security."

You're mostly joking, but his frown is genuine. "Don't be silly. You'll always have a place on this team."

He takes everything so seriously these days. You suppose it's only fair, given the files he has to sort through on a daily basis. Picking which case deserves the team's attention the most.

But he wasn't always like this. You're the newest member of the team, but you've known Hotch longer than any of them.

You still remember the first time you met him, at eight years old. He was your first real friend at school, and you became inseparable easily. Your shared love for The Beatles and Law and Order made you fast friends, and as you grew older, your interests shifted in tandem.

Sometimes when you look at him, you still see that little boy who knew too much, but still managed to always make you laugh.

***

The team disperses soon after you land in Seattle. You've never had to come up with a profile in one afternoon, but it's also been a long time since your ticking clock to find the victim was just over a day.

When Gideon and Morgan head to the latest crime scene, you join Hotch and Reid to interview the victim's brother. The moment the three of you step into his house, his dog, Sandy, starts barking up a storm.

"It's what we call the Reid effect," Hotch smiles, walking over to pet her. "Happens with children, too."

You can't help but smile as well, peering over at Spencer, who looks about as uncomfortable as he usually does.

It doesn't escape your notice that the brother looks looser now. Hotch has a way with people that traces back to his childhood self. He was always wiser than his years, something you chalk up to his need to grow up faster than he should have, but his paternal instinct comes from practically raising his brother, Sean, after his dad's untimely death.

The casual interview reveals enough about the victimology that when you head back to the station, Gideon calls the officers in to explain the profile.

You can feel Morgan's agitation wafting off of him as he watches Gideon state his assumptions with startling clarity and confidence. Hotch, on the other hand, looks contemplative, which reminds you that he's been tasked with the returning agent's evaluation.

He can see your furtive glances in his direction, even as you try to remain secretive about your interest in his demeanor. He presses his lips together to keep from smiling as he thinks about how lucky you are that you went into profiling and not covert operations.

You have never been especially good at keeping your own thoughts or intentions to yourself around him. While some would call that a weakness in this field, he sees it as your greatest strength, because it clearly shows how much he can trust you.

As a kid, you were outspoken about every idea you had, and you used your strength and willpower to look out for him when he needed it. It took him a long time to admit how much he used to need you (maybe too long), but you always knew.

***

Gideon's profile leads to the arrest of Richard Slessman and Tim Vogel, and Elle manages to save the last girl while she's still alive. You catch your breath for the first time in 36 hours as you stand with Hotch in the shipyard, watching the paramedics and local police clear the scene.

"What are you going to tell them?" you ask under your breath as his gaze turns to Gideon, who is getting patched up in the back of an ambulance.

He had goaded the unsub into shooting him instead of the girl, but your mind can't seem to focus on the silver lining.

Hotch sighs, crossing his arms over his chest, as though to hold his coat closed against the breeze. "They want to know if he's fit to be a field agent again."

Normally, you would give him shit for using that tactic. Avoiding a question by providing more information. This time, you know he's just thinking out loud.

"What would you say?" Hotch asks as Morgan walks over and sits on a barrel next to you.

"Gideon saved her life," Derek shrugs, his eyes flashing to you for a moment. "That's good enough for me."

Hotch seems to ponder this for a second. "Do you know what Gideon means in Hebrew?"

"Mighty warrior," Reid interjects, popping in to the conversation with the subtlety of a tiger.

You're confused at first, but then you remember the baby names book that was sitting in Hotch's living room the last time you visited him. "You cannot let Haley name your child Gideon."

Hotch laughs suddenly, and you can tell you surprised it out of him. Your chest warms comfortably as he smiles, his cheeks flushing softly in the chill air.

He looks over at Gideon again, deciding in real time that he's going to recommend him to come back to the team. He would never admit it to you or anyone, but he knows that if your position on the team was in jeopardy from Gideon's return, he wouldn't have been able to complete his evaluation fairly.

It was Hotch who recommended you for the open position after he was promoted into Gideon's role as unit chief. You deserved the spot, of course, but Jeff's death had still been fresh and he knew better than most how much the job can take one's mind off of the other aspects of their life.

While Hotch watches Gideon, you watch him. You can tell from the look on his face that it's a done deal. Jason's coming back to the team. It will be a change of pace for everyone, but that doesn't mean it won't be good.

Having joined the team right after the bombing, you saw exactly how Gideon changed after getting the profile wrong, but so did everyone else. What people didn't talk about was how Aaron changed too. Rising into the rank. Growing to fill the hole that Gideon left in the unit, but somehow also shrinking into himself at the same time, because that's what this job does to you...it takes and it takes and it takes until you have nothing left to give.

But sometimes that's what you need: to give something up so you know you aren't losing everything.

***

Gideon settles into the team faster than you anticipated, and soon it's almost like he never left. Even though you can see the vein on Morgan's neck pulsate every time he hijacks a profile, you can't help but appreciate the support he gives to Spencer and Elle, both of whom are becoming incredible profilers before your very eyes.

That's also why you find yourself a little worried when Hotch tells you that Reid failed his weapons recertification.

"I thought you said you were helping him practice," you say as the two of you walk past security and toward the bullpen.

"I was," he emphasizes, before correcting himself, "I did. I'm sure he was just nervous."

You nod, pushing open the doors and spotting Reid sitting quietly at his desk. "He can test again in two weeks. He'll be fine."

When Morgan hands him a whistle with a quippy joke, you sigh into your coffee tumbler, but don't bother stepping in. He's being childish, but if you try to intervene, it'll just embarrass Spencer more.

"Okay," JJ starts, "Franklin Park, Des Plaines. Yesterday afternoon."

She dives into the case, but you have already read the file (and you know Reid has too) so you scoot your chair over to his desk and lean forward so only he can hear you. "I failed my first weapons certification at the bureau too."

Spencer looks up immediately, his face colored with surprise. "Really? You're one of the best shots I know."

You smile with a shrug. "The tests aren't real life. When it comes down to it, I get the job done. Just like you will."

He doesn't say anything for a moment, but then his lips curve up into a small smile. You both turn your attention back to the front just as JJ finishes explaining the case details.

"Wheels up in 30."

The flight to Illinois is filled with heated discussions about the bureau's fruitless history of trying to profile long distance serial killers.

"L. D. S. K.s are so rare, we haven't been able to build a standard profile," Hotch explains as the jet reaches cruising altitude.

Gideon chimes in immediately. "Here's what we do know: they're always male, and they frequently have law enforcement or military experience, and they always contact the police or the media."

Elle looks confused and you echo her sentiment as you lean your hip against her armrest. "To take credit or relive the experience?"

"Both," he says simply. "All serial killers attempt to relive the ecstasy they get from their killings. Some use souvenirs taken from the victims, and others return to the dump site to interact with the body. Both modes require contact with the victim, contact which, by definition, long distance serial killers don't have."

"Our unsub hasn't contacted anybody," you point out. "What do we do until then?"

"Sometimes it's not what the unsub does that reveals the profile. Sometimes it is what they do not do."

Reid glances up from the file in his lap, and you notice that he looks at Gideon first. "He doesn't kill his victims."

"Underkill's a unique signature," Hotch ponders, standing up and walking along the cabin. He only paces when he's deep in thought. "The question is, does he shoot them in the stomach intentionally just to wound them, or is he just aiming at the biggest part of the target?"

The team is silent as you take in this new analysis. You're not surprised when Gideon is the first to speak up. "Specifically, does the unsub lack the skill to make the head shot, or simply the will to take it?"

When the plane lands, you check out the last crime scene before spending the day talking to the local police and the victims' surgeons at the nearby hospital.

That night, when you check into your hotel room, the click of the door lock closing behind you is a welcome relief from the tension of the day. Many of the Des Plaines police officers were unhappy with the team's initial assessment, because it heavily implied that the unsub may have been a law enforcement official himself.

You wash your face and change into a tee shirt and a comfortable pair of sweatpants, before climbing into bed and opening the case file back up again. The rest of the team has also gone to their own rooms, but you can't help but wish you had another set of eyes looking at this with you.

As though reading your mind, a knock thuds on your door and you stand up quickly, in case it's an emergency. When you check the peephole, you see Hotch standing way too close to the door.

Unlocking it slowly so you don't startle him, you open the door to find him in still in a full suit.

"Is there a problem?" you ask immediately. "Do I need to get dressed?"

He shakes his head, glancing around the hallway so quickly that you almost miss it. "I was just looking over the profile and I wanted your opinion on some thoughts I had."

The corner of your mouth twitches and you open the door further to let him in. He doesn't miss a beat as he takes a seat on the armchair in front of your bed and flips open his notepad.

"I was thinking about the bullet we recovered on the scene," he says slowly, like he's thinking through every word he's saying.

You nod, sitting on top of the bed covers and crossing your legs under you. "Garcia called after you left the station. The bullet was a .223 fired from the M-4 variant of the M-16."

"That means he's military," Hotch says, reaching his hand out without taking his eyes off his notepad. You close the case file you had laid out and hand it to him. "M-4 is a shorter barrel than the M-16, so it's less accurate and a lot harder to fire, especially at these distances."

"This level of skill indicates specialized training. That means..."

"It means the underkill was on purpose," Hotch says, finishing your thought. "What is he trying to prove?"

You purse your lips as he sits up in the chair to give himself room to remove his jacket. His pinstriped button-down is slightly crinkled under his arms, but you can tell it was freshly ironed this morning.

"Maybe he's in a fast-paced occupation," you suggest, "which would fit with the profile that he has a big ego."

"Then we're back to law enforcement."

You lean forward, your eyes following his hands as they fidget with his cuffs and undo the buttons, one at a time. You've always been attune to every one of his movements, but maybe it's just because you've spent so much time around him.

"Hotch," you whisper-yell, snagging his attention from your case file, which he tosses back to you.

He hums and you take that as an invitation to continue speaking. "Be careful tomorrow, when you're giving the profile."

One of his eyebrows lifts and you can tell he's holding back a smile. "It's just in front of the Des Planes PD. You'll be there too."

"It's not that," you sigh, shaking your head. "Everything about this profile points to the shooter being either current or former law enforcement. I'd be surprised if they didn't take it personally."

His eyes flit up to yours, his brow furrowing. "I can handle myself."

"I'm sure you can, Hotch," you say with a breathy laugh. "Doesn't mean I don't still look out for you."

He pauses and it's like his whole body takes a beat. "I know."

***

You're talking to Dr. Landman with Derek, Elle, and Jason the next day when a gunshot rings out through the hospital. Last you checked, Hotch and Reid were in the E.R., but you haven't heard from them since you arrived.

"It's Phillip Dowd," a nurse informs you when you meet with local police outside the closed E.R. door.

After a quick call to Penelope, the profile becomes clear.

"He joined the army at 18," Gideon recites, pacing around the room in a vaguely reminiscent manner, "went to ranger school, did 6 years before being dishonorably discharged in '95 for conduct unbecoming. Obviously lied about it, joined the Arlington P. D."

"You were right," the police captain sighs. "He was a cop."

His hopeless tone is disheartening, and you find yourself upset for not the first time that your team was correct in their assessment.

After the initial commotion, the E.R. is silent except for a few muffled voices. You can't hear what's being said, but the lack of gunshots or loud noises is all that's keeping you from falling apart.

"It'll be okay," you hear whispered from next to you. You turn to see Derek, who presses his shoulder to yours briefly. "Hotch will know what to do."

You know there's nothing you can do from out here, especially with how precarious the situation inside is, but doing nothing has never been your strong suit.

"I know," you tell him, echoing your thoughts. "I just wish we could help."

Derek cocks his head at the S.W.A.T. team readying themselves to break the door down. "We can help. We need to give Hotch and the kid time to wear Dowd down."

His tone is light and you feel yourself laugh, ignoring the thickness that swells in your throat. "That shouldn't take long."

Derek bumps your arm again in a silent extension of comfort, and you mouth a silent thank you.

You can feel Gideon losing patience as he reasons with the captain, but he eventually buys them three minutes to do what they can. When the final five second countdown starts, you unconsciously hold your breath, only to be released when Hotch's voice calls through the door.

"Hold your fire!"

Your breath comes out like a gasp and you squeeze Derek's arm before rushing forward. Hotch stumbles past you with a murmur that sounds obscurely like "help Reid", so you push your way through the throng of civilians moving to escape until you see him.

"Spencer," you gasp, crouching down to help him into a standing position. You would never admit it to him, but ever since he joined the team, he's been something of a little brother to you. "What happened in here? Are you okay?"

"You were right," he says with a surprising steadiness to his voice. "I got the job done."

You don't ask what he means, knowing that Hotch will fill you in when the time is right. Instead, you decide not to fight the vaguely maternal urge rising within you and you pull him into a tight hug. It's more of a quick squeeze, because you don't want to push past his physical boundaries, but he doesn't complain, instead looking over at you with a small smile that's more than enough for now.

***

You find Hotch where the departed ambulance that patched Reid up was parked. All of the hustle and bustle of the paramedics and local police officers and bureau agents comes to a standstill as you walk over to where he's sitting on the edge of the curb.

"I heard what happened," you say as a way to announce your presence. "Can I sit?"

He nods without looking up, and you crouch down next to him, settling on the curb with your shoulder pressed to his. You can feel the tension in his muscles as he grips the sidewalk, his palms digging into the concrete like he could break through if he pressed hard enough. "Reid.."

"..is fine," you whisper, nudging him so he looks up to where Spencer and Jason are chattering excitedly. "He's more proud than anything."

He doesn't say anything, so you bump your knee against his. "I guess all of the physical training classes you made him take at the academy paid off."

He knows you know exactly what is running through his mind, so he doesn't bother trying to articulate it. Instead, he lets out the breath he didn't realize he was holding, and looks over at you. "Do you remember that self-defense class we took before law school?"

You're not expecting this question, and you almost laugh. "You mean the singular self-defense class you dragged me to before dawn in the summer before we started at Georgetown?"

He levels you with a look that you would think is serious if you didn't know him so well. "You don't regret it, though."

"No," you smile, your eyes blurring with emotion. That's where you met Jeff. "I don't."

He was your instructor that day. He only taught that class twice a week, between lectures at Georgetown Law, and it doesn't escape your mind that you so easily could've missed him. One day earlier or later and you never would've met him, never would've been his girlfriend, or his wife, or his widow.

Hotch remembers meeting him that day too. He had to literally come to your apartment and drag you out of bed to make the seven AM class that he had signed you both up for, and you had been grumpy the whole drive over.

There wasn't much, other than coffee, that could get you alert before eight in the morning, but the moment you walked into that gym, it was like you were wide awake. He spent the rest of the class trying not to look as the man he would later come to know as Agent Adler kept coming over to give you extra pointers, and he pretended that the coil of ice slithering up his spine was there just because he was watching out for you.

When he found out the two of you had started dating, he continued to pretend the nausea rising in his stomach was from the day-old sandwich he had had for lunch, because it wasn't fair. Especially since he was with Haley, and he was happier than he had ever been, even if the new law school course load was making it harder to see her as often as he wanted to.

But eventually, your happiness with him overpowered every protective urge he felt, and he realized that even if there was a feeling in his gut that he didn't recognize when he saw you two together, Jeff was perfectly suited for you.

***

"He's so gorgeous!" JJ coos, her hands twitching at her sides like she's trying not to reach forward and take the baby out of Haley's hands.

She brought Jack, their newborn son, in to work today to show the team, and Hotch looks prouder than you've ever seen him. "Thank you."

"If you find baldness and wrinkles attractive."

"Reid!" you chastise, swatting at him. He dodges your hands without even looking.

"Look at his widdy biddy nose," Garcia squeals, before turning to Morgan with an inquisitive look. "Don't you want one of these?"

He just laughs as he rests his chin on her shoulder. "Mm, I'll stick to practicing."

"Congratulations," Elle chimes in before returning to Gideon's side to continue discussing the new case that came in. She's always on top of things, and it's something you respect greatly about her.

"Thanks," Hotch smiles, his gaze returning to Jack after looking away for only a moment. Jack is like a siren, the way each of his little sounds or movements holds Hotch's attention so steadily. He's the most focused of all of you, but you've still never seen him this enamored. "She's amazing. I'm a little terrified."

"You're glowing," you tell Haley as the rest of the team heads to the briefing room. "How is it that you had a baby just a few weeks ago?"

"You're sweet," she smiles, before tilting her head forward. "Do you want to hold him? You're practically his aunt."

You gasp quietly, so as not to wake little Jack. "That is a title I will carry proudly. And yes, I would love to hold him."

Haley hands him to you slowly, and you make sure to support his head carefully as you cup your arms around him. He looks so much like Haley that you almost make a joke about Hotch's genes not even putting up a fight, but that nose...that nose has Hotch written all over it.

When you glance back to where the team left from, you see him turn back at the same moment and offer you an encouraging smile.

"How are you holding up?" you ask Haley, barely able to focus on your surroundings with a newborn in your arms. Maybe there is something to the siren thing.

"Jack's been incredible. He barely cries, it's kind of a godsend...but I do wish Aaron could take time off with me."

You give her what you hope is your most comforting smile. "We've been super swamped with cases here, but in all my years working with him, I have never seen him so eager to leave every night."

She laughs, a pretty sound you remember from your youth. "I know. I feel so unfair when I complain about these things, but I appreciate you humoring me."

"Not at all," you assure her, glancing back down at Jack, who is mid-yawn. "I understand completely. If I had one of these little guys, I wouldn't be able to think about anything else."

You hear her breath catch and you open your mouth to reassure her that it's fine, but she is already reaching forward to squeeze your arm. "You and Jeff would have made amazing parents."

When you both joined the bureau, you were so busy with work that kids weren't on your mind at all. It wasn't until you got settled at the BAU, and Jeff found his place with organized crime, that you even started talking about it.

You want kids, don't you?

Only a few. Maybe four or five. Yeah, five's a good number.

"I should get back to the team," you say softly, blinking away the memories.

Haley sees your face and she smiles sadly as she takes Jack back from your arms. "I'll see you soon. Tell him I'm heading home, will you?"

You nod and watch the elevator doors close in front of her, before joining the team.

***

"I can't believe you went bar hopping without me," Derek shakes his head, feigning offense as he leans so far back in his chair you're afraid it may tip over.

"I think hopping is kind of a strong word," you say, glancing over at Elle, who is perched on the edge of your desk. "We only had one bar in mind, but it closed earlier than we thought, so we went somewhere else after."

"This was a much needed girl's night," Elle grins, patting Morgan on the shoulder as he continues to pout. "We'll invite you next time."

"How was your weekend, Dr. Reid?" you ask, turning around to face him.

Spencer doesn't look up from his crossword.

You say his name again, recalling the attention of Derek and Elle, who had started talking about some trip they've been planning for what feels like months.

When he still doesn't look up, you pick up one of the BAU-provided pens on your desk and chuck it at him, just hard enough to bridge the gap between your desks, but not so hard that it hurts on impact.

"Ow!" Spencer yelps anyway, glancing up with a look that's somewhere between confusion and indignation. He picks the pen up off the ground and turns it over to see the tiny insignia on the cap. "This is FBI property."

"How was your weekend, Spencer?" you ask again, ignoring him. "Didn't you say you had some fun stuff planned?"

"I did," he lights up, instantly forgetting about the pen incident. "My local movie theater was showing reruns of the first season of the original Star Trek, so I got to experience it on the big screen."

Derek laughs and walks back over to his desk next to yours. "We have very different definitions of fun weekend plans, kid."

You're about to tell Derek that no one wants to hear what his idea of fun is when the office door upstairs flies open and Hotch and Gideon walk out.

Reid hands you back your pen, and Derek sits up in his chair so fast it's almost comical.

"We have another case," Hotch announces before coming to a stop.

Gideon takes it away. "Our unsub is male, intelligent, organized and methodical. He has the confidence of a man who's been killing for a long time."

"Only victim removed from the scene is Freddy Condore indicating some tie to him."

Hotch turns to you. "You, Elle, and Reid stay on Condore's background with Garcia. The rest of us will head to the crime scene."

You nod before standing up. "Let's go, kids."

Penelope's lair is just as eccentric as you remember it.

"Take a seat," she instructs before logging into her computer and opening up her criminal history database. "Just don't get too comfortable."

Your lips quirk up as Elle flashes her eyes at you, and you nod your head at the empty chair on Garcia's opposite side. Reid is already sitting on a desk chair by the back, spinning in aimless circles as he rattles off a list of markers to search for.

After a minute, Penelope stops typing. "Credit card receipts show Freddy loved crab cakes, preferred light beer and used to spend his Thursday nights with a woman in Fells Point."

You pick up a stress toy shaped like a tomato from one of her shelves and bounce it in your palm, just for something to occupy your hands.

"What about his associates?" Elle asks, grabbing a pen with a pom-pom on the end and poking it at Spencer's knee.

"Most of them have criminal records."

Elle glances up. "That much I guessed."

Penelope frowns, and looks pointedly at the pen in her hand.

"She's holding the tomato!" Elle complains, throwing a finger at you.

You lift up your hands in surrender, dropping the stress toy. "Thanks a lot, Greenaway."

"Anyway," Reid interrupts, to everyone's surprise, "One of these guys is particularly interesting. Pull up James Baker's rap sheet."

Penelope turns back to her computer as Spencer reads over her shoulder. "He spent time in juvenile detention for attempted murder, was released at age 21, and then subsequently arrested for, and this is in order, armed robbery, petty theft, burglary, narcotics sales, and rapе."

"What's so interesting about that?"

"When it comes to psychological behavior, anything is possible but this criminal history? It just isn't probable."

Elle nods in agreement. "I mean, as a minor, he began with attempted murder and then devolved into pettier crimes?"

"It's the criminal history of a fractured schizophrenic with multiple personality disorder," you sigh. "It just does not make sense."

***

Hotch calls you into his office when he and Morgan return from Baker's address. You can tell something is off before you even step through the door, so you shut it behind you and take a seat in front of his desk.

"What's going on?" you ask, your eyes glancing over his face to see if his micro-expressions can give you a hint. "What's wrong?"

He looks up with a sigh, his hands clasped on his desk. "Baker's place was an artificial dwelling, and the weapon we recovered on the scene was standard law enforcement issue."

It takes you a few seconds to comprehend what he's trying to say - a few seconds longer than usual - and your breath stutters in your throat. "He was undercover?"

"That's what it looks like," Hotch agrees. "I wanted to inform you before telling the rest of the team."

You nod, pressing your eyes closed for a beat.

He missed his pick-up, Mrs. Adler.

We'll call you as soon as we know more.

The memories start to flood back in and you squeeze your eyes shut tighter before opening them. Hotch looks blurry for a moment until your eyes adjust to the light again.

"Does organized crime know where he is?" you ask, desperately needing to fill the silence.

He looks down at the case file. "We assume so, but it's not like they would tell us. They weren't too happy that we were taking on this case at all, and now we know why."

"Maybe they'll talk to me," you suggest, even though the idea of talking to Josh Cramer makes you taste bile. You haven't seen him since a month after the funeral. It's not for his lack of trying, you just couldn't stomach looking at any of them after what happened. One missed call turned to ten and eventually they stopped trying.

There's a piercing pain behind your eyes and you squeeze them shut for a momentary relief. "It was only supposed to be three months."

Hotch's brow furrows and you don't look up at him just yet. You can already picture his expression, the anguish you know he feels for you whenever you bring up Jeff.

"It was a three month operation," you continue, knowing you won't be able to discuss it later if you stop talking now. "That's all we signed up for. Three months away from me and then he was on leave for the rest of the year, so that we could focus on us again. Maybe even start a family."

Your voice cracks on the last word and you tilt your head down to hide your face. He hates it when you cry, but that's not fair. He knows how important it is to get your emotions out, so they don't pile up inside of you, but if he had his way, you would never have had a reason to cry in the first place.

"I hadn't seen him in over a month when he was..."

He can hear the tightness in your voice and he resists the overwhelming urge to reach his hand out and take yours. You're sitting a foot back from the desk, and it's not he could reach you from here anyway, but his fingers still ache.

"I don't want to blame them, Aaron," you sigh. Your words sound watery, and he pulls a handkerchief out of his inside jacket pocket and hands it to you. He's almost surprised when you accept the gesture, pressing the cloth square under your eyes to catch the tears leaking out. You were so self-reliant as a kid, never wanting or needing anyone else's help. "I don't want to blame them, but I do. I can't help it, I just do."

Someone else would have consoled you. They would have assured you that feeling this way was natural, and that no one could blame you for feeling what you do, but that isn't who you two are. "Jeff wouldn't."

His name is like a dagger to your heart. You practically wince as Hotch digs further. "That team was his family, just like we are yours. He wouldn't blame them, not for this. Not for something he chose."

Something he chose. This is why you don't let yourself remember that day. This is why you kept that day - the day you got that horrible call - locked up inside your brain, where not even you could reach it. Because if you let yourself think about it and remember, then you will remember that it wasn't really Cramer or his unit or the bureau that you blamed. It was him.

For choosing to miss his pick-up. For choosing to go undercover. For choosing to join organized crime.

You take a deep breath and re-adjust yourself in the uncomfortable chair Hotch refuses to replace, even though it's literally splitting at the seams. Something about your tax dollars hard at work. "What are you going to do about Baker?"

He lets you change the subject. "We have to contact Agent Cramer before-

"What the hell is wrong with you people?"

Speak of the devil and he shall appear.

"Sorry?" Hotch frowns, both of you standing up immediately.

Cramer doesn't take his eyes off Hotch as he seethes with anger. "I told you, this is my case! You ran my agent through IBIS?"

"Because I wanted to know who he worked for and now that I do, I'd like to talk to him."

"You don't have him?"

You can hear your heartbeat in your skull.

Hotch looks at you then, and finally Cramer notices your presence. "Y/N...it's been a while."

Your lips press into a thin line. "Almost two years." The anger you've been trying to avoid seeps into your voice against your will and you sigh, returning to the investigation. "How long has Baker been missing?"

"About 12 hours."

"You think he ran?" you ask, watching Cramer closely as his jaw ticks.

"No, Jimmy's too experienced to run without contact."

He realizes his misstep immediately and his shoulders fall. To his credit, he doesn't break eye contact, even as his expression softens. "That's not what I meant. All I'm saying is that I think someone's keeping Jimmy from calling in."

You can feel Aaron looking at you, but you avoid his line of sight. If you're going to have to interact with organized crime, you might as well make yourself useful. "We all want the same thing, Cramer: to get Baker back to his family."

You wait outside as he explains the situation in more detail to Hotch and Gideon, and you're surprised when he's the first to leave. "Can we talk?"

Hotch comes out behind him and raises his eyebrow for a fraction of a second, a check-in. Swallowing thickly, you nod your head and follow him down the hall to the top of the stairs.

"I'm sorry I haven't reached out recently," he says as soon as you're out of earshot of the others. "You know Jeff was one of our top guys."

Your eyes shut at his name, as though someone clapped their hands too close to your face. It's almost laughable how sure you were that you were past your grief. You passed the bureau's psych evaluation after your six month leave with flying colors (because your team practically wrote the answers yourselves), and as each new day passed and you weren't so debilitated by just the thought of him, you thought it meant you were fine. Because time heals all wounds. At least it's supposed to.

"I know," you whisper scratchily, before clearing your throat. "I know that. And it's okay. We've all been busy." You look down at the bustling bullpen where his agents are interacting with your team. "Clearly."

Then you remember you're job here in the first place. "We really are just trying to help. It wouldn't hurt to keep us involved."

Cramer sighs and you know he won't refuse. "We'll loop you in."

***

James Baker is found and Vincent Perotta gets taken into custody, but you can still hear the end of the interrogation ringing in your ears.

"You were just responding to what you learned, Vincent.

When you grow up in an environment like that, an extremely abusive and violent household... it's not surprising that some people grow up to become killers.

And some people grow up to catch them."

You can't pinpoint exactly what you're feeling, but if you had to guess, it would be sorrow. Sorrow for that little boy who got dealt the worst hand you can imagine, and still turned into the best version of who he could've been.

Hotch can't get the interrogation out of his mind either. He had grabbed his briefcase and headed out to the elevators as soon as Perotta was taken away, in the hopes of avoiding everybody. He's about to let out his breath when a hand reaches between the doors and sends them flying open again.

Normally your appearance is a welcome sight, but tonight, he's had enough talking. Perotta took everything he had to give, and then some, and he doesn't know if he has the strength to go through the proceedings again with you.

"I just want to get home," he says as you stand next to him without a word and face the doors. To my family.

You don't say anything as the little fluorescent floor number ticks down - has it always been this slow - and he feels his nerves tighten with agitation. You're never silent, especially not about something like this.

Just before the elevator reaches the second floor, you reach forward and pull the emergency stop button. He whispers your name, half irritated half relieved, and you step in front of him, focusing your eyes on his. It's a classic profiler technique, both to mentally establish trust and to physically block him from the keypad.

"You're a great father, Aaron."

His mind flashes back 25 years, but he squeezes the hand in his pocket into a fist to keep himself from succumbing to the memories. "I'm trying."

He knows what you're doing, and he would normally be open to a healthy exchange between two adults, but tonight he just can't. It's too fresh.

You seem to understand at least a fraction of what he's trying to convey. Your next words are gentle. "That already makes you a thousand times better than him."

That almost makes him smile. "You can say his name, you know."

You shrug, looking at him with a glint in your eye. "Honestly, I don't think I can. I'm afraid I'll turn into a pile of ash, with the fury your father instills in me."

That's what gets him. He coughs out a laugh that echoes around the elevator, and you return to his side, giving him a moment to breathe on his own.

This time, when his mind spirals back to his childhood, he's not as equipped to block it. The memories come in flashes, a blackening bruise on his abdomen, a split lip explained away through roughhousing in the backyard, the thin scars on his hands and elbows as he finally started to fight back. He would've taken it all forever if he had to, if it meant that he could keep the horrors away from the people he loved. "I really should go."

"Yeah." You push the emergency stop back into place and the elevator hits the ground floor in no time. "I'll see you tomorrow, Hotch."

He steps out, half expecting you to follow him. Instead, the doors close and he's by himself again, and he suddenly can't remember why he wanted to be alone in the first place.

***

When the Keystone Killer is finally caught after 18 years of inactivity, he finds himself expecting for there to be some sort of celebration, either in the form of a commendation, or a much-needed break. Instead, what he gets is a mountain of paperwork.

He usually doesn't mind the paperwork that comes after a long case. It's a helpful way for him to sort through his thoughts on what went down, and to learn from mistakes that were made along the way, whether in the profile or in the capture of the unsub.

Lately, paperwork has felt like an added torture to the long hours he already spends at work. It's not that he wasn't excited about going home before, but ever since Jack was born, he hasn't been able to get out of the office fast enough. But being the unit chief of the BAU has its responsibilities, and this is one of them.

He's drowning in consultation files and case reports when you knock on his door, two coffees in hand.

"Thought that was you," he says, finishing the sentence he was writing.

You frown, setting one steaming cup down on his desk. He hasn't even looked up yet. "How'd you know? Or do you just say that to everyone who walks in here?"

His lip twitches and he puts his pen down. "I could smell the coffee. It always smells the same when you make it."

"Oh?" You weren't aware you had a method. "And how's that?"

"Burnt."

You take the lid off your cup and chuck it at him with surprising accuracy. It would have thwacked him in the forehead if he hadn't swatted it aside with his stupid catlike reflexes.

"What are you working on?" you ask after taking a scalding sip of perfectly brewed coffee.

He looks up for a beat before diving back into the file he was skimming. "Paperwork for the Keystone Killer case."

"But we just finished that," you point out before reaching forward and taking the file out from under his nose.

He huffs. "I was...looking at that."

"This is a report on what happened a couple of hours ago," you say, ignoring his remark. "You can easily do this tomorrow, or later this week."

"It's fresh in my mind now. I don't want to forget any details."

You shrug in a motion that says 'fair enough'. "Or, you could actually go home before midnight for once."

You slide another file off the top of his pile and flip it open, reading over the notes Hotch has scribbled in the margins. He's so meticulous about his job that you almost forget he was promoted just a little over a year ago. He became unit chief at the same time that you joined the team, so you didn't get to see him in his early days, but looking at him now, you almost can't imagine it. It's like he's built for this, for taking responsibility and leading people with kindness and respect.

"Elle said something on the plane today," he says suddenly, jerking you from your thoughts.

You close the file and look up as he runs a hand over his head, pushing his thick hair back just for it to bounce forward again. "She said that she's scared she's going to look up and see that her life has passed her by while she was chasing monsters."

Something cold runs through your veins and you sit up straighter in your chair. "And what did you say?"

"I told her the truth."

You smile in an effort to keep your eyes from shining. "What, that we're all doomed?"

He looks at you candidly. "That this job will eat you up if you let it." Your smile falls and he continues. "You just can't let it."

"I'm sure Elle loved hearing that."

He shrugs. "She was surprisingly receptive."

That gets a laugh out of you, even if the good humor doesn't last long. "I don't know how you do it."

"Do what?"

"This job, while also being a husband, and a father." You sigh, and you can almost feel the weight of the air as it leaves your body. "When I go home, I don't have to be anything to anyone. Most of the time it feels awful, but sometimes, after an especially bad case, I'm almost relieved when I can go home and just check out."

You aren't talking about him anymore, and he can tell. He doesn't mind, if this is what it will take for you to work through your emotions.

"We were gonna start trying for a baby."

That surprises him. Not that you wanted to be a mother - he knows that - but that he didn't know you were already thinking about it, especially because of how you grew up. You don't talk about it often, but after losing your mother to a drunk driver when you were ten, you almost transformed into her, becoming the emotional support for your family when there was no one else to fill that role.

You press your lips into a thin line and take a deep breath, your coffee cold and forgotten on the desk in front of you. "We had been talking about it for years, but with the paths our careers were taking, there just wasn't enough time before then." Your eyes look far away, and you don't seem to notice that your lips have unconsciously curved up into a reminiscent smile. "Jeff wanted five kids. Five. God, can you imagine?"

He can, but he doesn't say anything, because he knows you aren't looking for a response. Just for someone to listen.

"I'm an only child," you say with a laugh. "I don't even know what it's like to have one sibling, let alone four." But Jeff had come from a huge family, and he had wanted you to experience that. He loved how full his home always felt growing up, never without someone to talk to. Now you won't ever get to experience that. "I guess I just wish sometimes that we had tried earlier."

"You'll have it someday," Hotch says simply, practically reading your mind. "If that's what you want, you'll have it."

"I waited so long," you whisper, closing your eyes for a long moment. "I was just so afraid that I wouldn't do it right, because I didn't have my mother anymore to help me."

"You would've been a great mother," he assures you, his voice confident. "One day, you will be."

Your breath comes out like a gasp and you clear your throat to keep the tears at bay. "How do you know?"

"I just know."

***

When you push through the doors to the bullpen the next morning, you are greeted by a familiar head of blonde hair.

"Sean?"

He turns around slowly, clearly recognizing your voice, and pulls his lips up into a smile that you return. "Hey, Y/N, how's it going?"

You weren't close to him as a kid, mostly because of the age gap between him and Hotch. You had tried to make more of an effort after graduating college, but Sean was fierce in his convictions, and there were a lot of things he didn't understand about his childhood that you certainly weren't going to explain to him now.

"Good, good," you say, leading him away from the throng of staring women. You shoot them a look that makes them disperse. "You here for your brother? He's upstairs."

He nods, glancing up at the closed office door. You start to lead him to the stairwell when he stops in his tracks and turns to you. "What mood's he in?"

"Why?" you ask, your brow furrowing. "You got bad news? Nothing I need to worry about, I hope."

Sean shakes his head, glancing up at the closed door again. "Nothing like that. I'll just go up."

You let him walk up on his own, knowing he doesn't want you getting involved in whatever he's thinking about. Before you have a moment to catch your breath, the three women return to your side.

"That's Hotch's brother?" Penelope asks, standing so close you can feel her breath on your ear.

"Maybe Hotch is adopted."

"What do you mean?" you ask, unconsciously glancing up the stairs. "They're honestly pretty similar." You're only half joking. They don't look anything alike, but that Hotchner brand of righteousness runs deep.

JJ frowns. "I don't see it."

"Yeah, he looks...like that," Penelope murmurs, before looking at you. "Did you know him when you were younger? Was he hot then too?"

You choke on your own spit. "He was nine years old when I left for college, so...no."

Her eyes widen and she lifts her hands in surrender.

"Ooh, here he comes."

You look up to see Sean storming down the stairs, Hotch hot on his heels.

"Sean, listen to me."

He turns so fast, you're afraid they're going to crash into each other. "Don't profile me, Aaron."

Sean stomps out of the bullpen while Hotch watches him leave, and you can't get the striking feeling of deja vu out of your head. Two boys, 15 years younger than they are now, standing in the same positions, with the same looks on their faces.

You imagine that you and Hotch probably act the same way around each other as when you first met, at eight years old.

The memory comes easily, even with more than two decades of time standing in the way. The little boy with dark hair who had sat next to you on the school bus, just because there were no other empty seats available that day.

You hadn't said anything for the first few stops, just watched him out of the corner of your eye as he nodded his head unconsciously to the music coming out of his large headphones. Eventually, curiosity got the better of you and you tapped on his shoulder. "What are you listening to?"

He had taken his headphones off quickly, as though caught in the act. "What?"

You repeated your question before leveling him with a pointed stare that meant 'there is a correct answer'. You were a feisty kid, and you weren't always the best at making first impressions, so his steady response impressed you. "Beatles. Revolver album."

"I love that one!" you had gushed, leaning in closer without a warning to press your ear to one of the speakers on his headphones. "Is this Yellow Submarine?"

He had nodded, the confusion in his eyes slowly transforming into delight. "You know their stuff?"

"Of course. My favorite's Eleanor Rigby."

He had frowned then. "That one's too sad."

You weren't surprised by his opinion. You had yet to find a boy your age who could appreciate serious music, but liking The Beatles was a start, at least.

"I'm Y/N," you had said, extending your hand like you were starting a business meeting.

He shook your hand furtively. "Aaron."

"Maybe I'll see you around."

The school bus had stopped at your street then, and you had gotten up without another word to this boy, who would one day become your best friend in the world.

Luckily, the next day, Aaron chose to sit next to you again, this time with a second pair of headphones to attach to his compact cassette deck. Two days turned to three, and before long, you had a new friend.

***

"I can't imagine what two weeks away from this place is gonna feel like," you sigh, packing some essentials into your bag and snapping it shut. "I might actually miss you guys."

"Not me," Morgan grins, before pressing a kiss to your cheek as he zips around you. "Two weeks of pure heaven with nothing but young, beautiful adults looking to make vacation memories."

"Your friend's resort better be as nice as you say it is," Elle says sternly as she wiggles her finger at Derek, who is busy inviting Reid to join their vacation.

"Thanks, but I'm going home," he says quickly, without looking at any of you. "Have a good one, guys."

"I'll head out too," you announce, grabbing your things and following him to the elevators. "Wait up, Spence."

He doesn't seem to hear you, but you slip through the doors just before they close. "You okay?"

"Huh?" he says, finally looking up. "Oh, yeah. I'm just not looking forward to the Nevada heat."

You can tell he's lying, but you don't want to press him right before the long break. "You can always call me if you need anything. Seriously."

"Yeah," he nods. "I know."

You wave goodbye to him in the parking lot, and you're back in the silence of your home by the end of the hour.

The rest of your day is spent lazing around the house, and you're asleep when you hear a knock at your door. After Jeff's death, you started keeping your gun in your nightstand, more out of a general sense of security than any specific acute fear, but its proximity during late night calls has given you the peace of mind you needed to finally sleep through the night.

Lifting it from the drawer, you hold it behind your back as you tiptoe to your front door and look through the peephole. When you don't see anyone, you carefully pull the door open, only to find a small packet sitting on your welcome mat with your name scrawled on the top.

After bringing it inside the house and locking the door again, you pry open the seal and extract a large piece of paper covered in a series of numbers and dots.

That's when the phone rings.

***

"How's it going?" you ask Reid and Morgan as you enter the conference room where all of the Fisher King's clues have been laid out. Neither of them have taken their eyes off the paper you brought in since you tacked it up on the board.

As expected, Reid doesn't look up. "The answer to what book we need has to be in here."

"Yeah," Derek sighs, glancing over at you, "but we sure as hell can't see it."

"Yet."

You look at the numbers again, hoping that your short walk to the coffee station and back would have been enough to unlock something new in your brain. Nothing. "The answer has to be based on specific details of each person's clue." A small sound turns your attention to the couch, where Elle is lying on her side. "Is Elle asleep?"

"I'm awake!" she starts, sitting up lethargically.

At the outburst, Hotch walks into the room and points at her bags. "I'm sending you home. You need to get some rest."

"No-"

"We won't do anything without you, I promise."

"Elle, seriously, we're not any closer than we were."

She nods, her lack of sleep seeming to dawn on her as she yawns again.

"Anderson," Hotch calls out, before you stop him. "What is it?"

"I can take her home," you suggest, looking over your shoulder as she lugs her bags down the hall with bleary eyes. He looks like he wants to protest, so you speak up before he has the chance. "She barely knows Anderson. I'll make sure she's settled, and then you can send him to watch her house, so I can come back here."

"I don't know if that's a good idea," he sighs, his eyes still trained on Elle's silhouette lingering by the elevator. "We may need you here."

You cock your head at Reid and Morgan, who have been sitting in the same positions for so long, you're surprised their necks haven't locked. "It's like they said. We haven't made any progress in over an hour. I'm not helping here."

He still looks unsure, but you know it's just worry. He'll always worry about you. "Okay, go. Call me in an hour to check-in."

You dip your head in a nod and jog through the bullpen to catch Elle as she's heading out.

"So you're my bodyguard, huh?"

You laugh, pressing the button for the ground floor. "Something like that."

"Good," Elle says, trying and failing to stifle a yawn, "you're much more fun than Anderson."

"Prettier, too."

The car ride to her house starts off silent, but eventually you break your internal promise to let her come to you. "How are you feeling after last night?"

She just shrugs. "It was more annoying than anything. I'm just glad I got to enjoy at least some of my vacation."

"I heard there was blood all over your room," you point out lightly, trying to broach the subject in a delicate manner. "That can't have been fun to wake up to."

"It was all on the outside. That's part of why they weren't able to hold me. That, and Hotch's lawyer chops."

You raise an eyebrow, glancing over at her as you pull over to the sidewalk. "His lawyer chops?" You know he used to be a prosecutor before joining the bureau, but you never got to see his skills in action.

"Yeah," Elle gushes, her face brightening considerably, "you should have seen the way he walked in there. Those beat cops had no idea what hit 'em. He was in full prosecutor mode, went all rainmaker on them until they released me."

You can imagine it. If any of you were in trouble, he wouldn't let anything get between him and your safety. "I wish I could've seen that."

When you put the car in park, you help Elle with her bags and walk her up to her door, where she insists that she'll be fine on her own.

"I promised I would wait with you until another agent could come and relieve me," you emphasize, instinctively scanning the vicinity around her home as she walks inside and drops her things on the floor.

"In about thirty seconds, I'll be passed out on this couch right here," she points at the window seat behind her, "so you'll just be watching me sleep for an hour."

You open your mouth to argue but she cuts you off. "Y/N, I'll be fine."

If there's one word to describe Elle, it's stubborn, so you let her shut the door behind her and you walk back to your car. Even if she won't let you sit with her inside, you still can't bring yourself to start the ignition, so you lean your seat back halfway and close your eyes, just for a few moments.

You haven't gotten much sleep either, and you're about to doze off when you hear a loud thud from outside the car. Jerking up, you undo the clasp of your holster and push open the car door. The world is silent, except for the rustling of leaves in the wind, but you start making your way up the drive, just to be sure. There's another thud, quieter this time, and you reach for your sidearm as you ascend her porch steps. Then comes a gunshot.

You start running.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner x female!reader #hotch x reader #hotch x female!reader #aaron hotchner #hotch #criminal minds #elle greenaway #penelope garcia #spencer reid #derek morgan #jennifer jareau #jason gideon #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner series #criminal minds series #criminal minds season one #criminal minds fic #fic #criminal minds imagine #hotch fic #anchor series #anchor

[reiderwriter]

You're Just Too Good To Be True

Chapter 9 of That's What You Get

Summary: You're determined to seduce Spencer after accidentally rejecting his last advances. It goes better (and worse) than you expect.

Warnings: Dom/Sub, Dom! Spencer, Oral (M receiving), clit stimulation, sort of dry humping, cum play, breeding kink, size kink, wife/husband role play, degradation, pet names (baby, princess, slut, whore), creampie and heartbreak. MINORS DNI 18+

A/N: Welcome to the endgame. Please don't worry about anything and go into this chapter completely blind 🥰 My requests are finally back open, and you can find my masterlist here! I'm also participating in kinktober this month, and everything so far is here, too if you're interested!! 💕 Enjoy!

The elevator was painfully slow as you followed Spencer out of the building. You had to take your bets about which way he'd have gone, whether he'd brought a car or was planning on taking the subway. Maybe it was wishful thinking, but you chose the parking garage, partially hoping for seclusion with him a bit faster than you'd get if he'd run to the crowded station. 

Fate was on your side. You stepped off the elevator on the basement floor and after a harried moment of twisting this way and that, your eyes locked onto him in the distance, walking towards his desperately old car. A miracle, considering he didn't often drive. 

"Spencer!" You shouted across the lot, practically skipping over to him, only mere paces away when he finally turned to look at you. You slowed down to a walk then, but with a marked anticipation bubbling in your stomach, your steps felt like lurches, your body drawn into him by the beat of your heart. 

"Spencer, wait." He'd stopped just in front of his car, so he wasn't really moving, but you wanted to be sure. You needed to be sure. 

"Y/N, what are you doing here?" He asked, his tone light, not as confused as his face made him seem. You hoped that was a good sign, that he was playing up the awkwardness of the interaction for anyone else who happened to be driving themselves home. 

"Our annulment deadline passed, right?" You looked up into his eyes, trying to hold the grin back from your face as you locked eyes with him. 

"Yes. I told you that the other night in the lobby, why are you asking again?"

"Because I want to go home with my husband." You took a step closer to him with the words, letting them fall lower, hitting the back of your throat where your heart was currently beating. They somehow didn't get stuck as you raised your hand to his chest. You didn't touch him fully, just let your pointer finger trace circles on the pocket of his shirt, hoping he'd hoping understand. Desperately. 

Sick of your teasing, he grabbed your hand and flattened it against his chest, keeping his eyes locked with yours as he slowly twisted the two of you around. You were like two beasts, circling each other, looking for areas to attack, to bite, to destroy. God you wanted him to destroy you. 

Before you knew it your back was to the car door, his voice in your ear. 

"And what do you want to do at home with your husband?" He growled in your ear, as he dropped your hand, instead bracing himself on the roof of the car and leaning down into you. Your body was on fire and he wasn't even making contact anymore. 

"I think you know." 

"I think I want to hear anyway." 

You just couldn't give into that. A challenge had been issued, and by God were you going see it through. 

"I want to feel my husband's hands around my throat. I want to feel his heartbeat pressed against mine. I want him to hold my hand as he pounds into me. And I want him to cum so deep inside of me that it doesn't even drip out." Each word was hushed, even in the stillness of the basement. It looked empty, but you never knew who'd snuck into their cars before you'd arrived. Or even after, as you focused all your will and energy on Spencer. 

To his credit, he didn't move, barely even batted an eye. He just nodded down at you, and smiled slowly, letting it spread across his lips in a wild grin, as if you'd just said the sweetest words to him instead of the dirtiest. 

"Your husband is a lucky man." 

"He could be, but he hasn't opened the car door for me yet, so who knows." You dared to touch him then, snaking one hand up his chest into his hair, and slowly pulling his head down for a kiss as you pushed yourself up. 

His arms didn't move until the second you touched, abuzz with the contact as you suddenly found yourself stuck together as if glued. His lips slip expertly over your own, as your thoughts run amok with glee. You'd won, and he was your prize. He pressed you back into the car, letting his hands explore more and more of you as he got carried away by your scent, the feeling of you under his hands, the taste of you on his lips. 

He finally pulled away and put three metres of space between you, physically far enough that he couldn't touch you as he turned away, trying to wipe you from his lips. 

"I'm sorry, we shouldn't be doing that here. Someone could see us." 

"I don't care." His eyes shot back to yours with a tilt of his head that you knew was him asking you if you really meant that. "I don't care who sees us, because I want them to know who you belong to."

"Are you sure you're not going to avoid me for weeks again if I keep kissing you?" 

"Spencer, I want you to do much more than just kissing me this time."

The grin bloomed on your lips before you could stop it, so proud to be claiming him publicly now. 

You could see the hesitation on Spencer's face as he risked pulling you back in, likely running the worst case scenarios of taking you right then and there in the car (misdemeanour charge of public sex, 1-2 years of probation, demotion from BAU, registry on a sex offenders list etc.) and collected his thoughts. He so would have liked to have hiked your skirt up then and there, but he doesn't even have to ask to know your opinion on the matter. 

You could practically hear him counting to ten. 

"Get in the car." 

"Say it nicely and I'll think about it." He raised an eyebrow, keeping eye contact as he opened his mouth one more time. 

"Get in the car, Mrs. Reid. Or do you need to be manhandled into it." 

As much as you're sure you would have enjoyed that, you chose not to push it too far. So you did as you were told, little sparks of heat flying up and down your body as you replayed the possessive tone he'd used to say your name. 

The car was cold, but you feel it warm up more as he closes the door behind you and climbs into the driver's seat. It increases tenfold when he leans over to pull your seatbelt into place, and dissipates entirely when he rests his hand on your leg and doesn't move it for the rest of the ride. 

Your almost disappointed by just how locked in it is, wishing desperately that it would go further up, right to where you wanted him. You even tried to press the issue, literally, with your hands. 

"Y/N, if I touch you anymore than this, we're not making it home. And there aren't many secluded spots on the side of the road, and I'm pretty jealous when it comes to things that are mine." You try not to melt at the words, but you fail, your legs dropping apart naturally. 

You expect him to take you to his place, excited to finally christen the bed you'd slept in peacefully twice. But as the scenery around you changes, becoming infinitely more familiar, you realise that's not the direction you're going. 

"This is the way to my apartment." It's less of a question, more of a statement, but he nods at you in confirmation. 

"You said you wanted to go home. I'm taking you home." 

"Spencer, your apartment would've been fine, that's your home."

"My home is wherever you are. We're here." He turns the engine off and climbs out of the car, leaving your heart fizzing with adoration. 

He finishes the conversation as he opens the door, offering you a hand and pulling you up so quickly you stumble into his chest as his lips fall to your ears. 

"Besides, your place is closer." Heat pooled between your legs, only growing with each step as your body reacted to having him closer and closer to your bed. 

"Didn't want to fuck me in the car though?" 

"I wanted something better for our first time." 

"This isn't our first time, Spencer." Your back hits the door of your apartment as you round on him, needing to see his eyes as you remind him that you know what he feels like inside of you. 

"How much do you remember?" He asks, not stepping closer, but not moving away either, eyes roaming your body alight with bodily hunger. 

"I remember the way you feel. The way you taste. I remember all the carnal details and none of the practical ones, and I'm beginning to think that maybe they're the only ones that matter." You wet your lips and glance down to his. A moment's hesitation is all he needs to attack you again, pushing his entire body weight into you as his lips find yours again. 

He's hot and he's hard and he's big and he's pushing against you so strongly you fear he's going to push you straight through the door, no unlocking needed. He pulls back just long enough for you to remind him of it though, but his only reaction is turning you around so his crotch is against your ass. 

"Go ahead and unlock it then." His lips find their way to the sensitive spot on your neck, and you wonder if it's luck or skill that puts him there, how he knew it would drive you crazy. 

It takes multiple attempts to open the door, and you're growing impatient in your lust, letting out tiny whimpers in frustration. You feel like your three more failed attempts away from stomping your feet and throwing yourself to the floor in a tantrum when his hand comes up so steady your own, pushing the key into the door first try. 

"You just needed some help getting it in, it's okay." The innocent words do nothing to distract from his hot cock resting at your ass, and you almost roll your eyes at the irony of the moment as he guides you inside. 

He turns you again and your lips lock in desperation. He hits the light switch and you don't stop. Your legs hit the back of your sofa, and you don't stop. Your unbuttoning his shirt and you don't stop, nearing the end of your tether, ready to feel him snap right back into you like a taught wire. 

"You're not even inside me yet and you already feel this good…" You whisper the words as he words down your neck, paying special attention to your pressure points, like he's memorised all the spots on your body that leave you weak in the knees. You can feel his smile as he attempts to undo you. 

Until he pulls away. Looking down at you as if you were a work of art and he the painter, he nods in satisfaction, before lifting you bridal style. 

"It's time for us to get into bed." 

"Well, aren't you the gentleman? Where I'm from, it's called fucking, Spencer." He almost flinches at the vulgarity, but you brush it off, letting him throw you down onto your bed. 

He starts working on the buttons of his sleeves, rolling them up neatly to his elbows in preparation for something important, but you don't give him the chance. 

Slipping off the bed, you make your way to your knees, where it becomes achingly apparent that the buttons on his pants also need to be pried open. 

"What do you think you're doing?" He asks, a little ticked off by your movements. 

"I'm getting ready to please my husband, obviously. Isn't that what good little wives do?" You finally slip him from his pants, letting his erection answer the question for him. 

"I'm in charge."

"And I like it that way," you say, opening your mouth wide as he grabs his cock in his hand, and sticking your tongue out nice and far as he let's it graze your top lip. 

He pushes deep into your mouth before grabbing your throat. You try not to splutter around him, relaxing and taking as much as he's giving. 

"Go ahead then, if you think you can handle it." The words shoot straight to your core, and you eagerly begin pumping your mouth up and down his erect penis. 

"Good Little cock sucker, this is what I married you for." His grip runs up to your hair, grabbing a chunk of it in his hands as he follows your movements around his cock. 

"You look so pretty on your knees for me like that," he says, pulling your mouth over his entire cock and keeping him there. "I'm gonna make you feel so good later, baby, just you wait."

He continues like that, using his grip to masturbate with your mouth, moaning and groaning at your touch until your ready to feel his cum shoot down the back of your throat. 

His release doesn't come though, and instead he's pulling your head off and discarding you below him. Climbing onto the bed, you eagerly watch him as he takes a seat, making himself comfortable and not even sparing a glance your way, still sat on your knees on the floor, spit and tears decorating your face, eyes wild with lust. 

"I'm not getting on my knees for you, princess. If you want me to pleasure you, you're going to have to climb right into my lap yourself." 

His explanation had your legs snapping shut as you squeeze them together, desperate for release. 

You do as you're told once again, climbing onto the bed and crawling into the generous space he's made between his legs. 

He positions you where he wants you, your back to his chest as he used his large hands to press your legs wide. 

"That's it, open wide for me princess."

"What are you, a horny dentist?" You laugh at his words, but he grabs your jaw and tilts it up to him, capturing your lips in a rough embrace. The air doesn't return to your lungs until he touches your cunt, and then it comes in a sharp gasp that leaves your head spinning. 

Maybe it's him that's actually having that affect. 

"You like that? You like me rubbing your little dripping pussy through your panties? Y/N, I'm not even touching you directly." The words are matter-of-fact, like he's astounded you're so fucking wet for him, but not shocked, knowing how much of a dirty little whore you were for him. 

His hands on you, the extra friction from your panties, his words in your ear, it's all too much as you find an orgasm rippling through your body, leaving you twitching as you ride it out on his fingers. 

"Where do you keep your condoms?" 

"I don't." He sighs in your ear, and you can feel him try to move himself so he can go and grab one from his bag or his car or somewhere even further from where you need him.

"Spenced, we're married." You whisper into his ear, nestling back further into his chest. 

"What are you suggesting?" 

"We're married, and it looks like we're staying married. I don't care where your nut goes as long as its inside me or painted over my body." 

He pushes you onto the bed on your back then as he pushed his remaining clothing off, taking yours with it while he's at it. His grabs the base of his cock, and the pre-cum dribbles out. You watch with all the hunger of a wolf seeing a rabbit, desperate to have him inside you one way of another. 

"That's it, slide your cock into my PUSSY, Spencer. Put it right where it belongs." 

Your pleas fall on deaf ears, as he uses the top of his cock to press against your clit, not bothering to enter you just yet. 

"What's wrong with this? Aren't I still getting you off like this? Not risking anything letting my cock sit here, letting myself cream on this beautiful mound." His words and motions on your clit are too much and you cum again the teasing is so good. 

In your bleary daze, he finally pushes into you, and you scream his name at the contact. 

"Thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you. God Spencer, you feel so good, so big for me." Gratitude is the only thing running through your mind, thankful as you are to have him buried deep. 

His thrusts are hard, fast and wet, and you hear them every step of the way as he spits down to the place you connect. You moan desperately, unable to form words by now as he snaps his hips into you violently, taking and taking and taking. 

But soon, it's his turn to give, and he's asking where he should be doing it. 

"Want my cum inside of you? Want it right here?" His hands fall to the bulge in your stomach, to the place where you can feel him pushing into and pulling out of you, the place where you can feel him grazing your walls. 

"Those other types of orgasm, I'm gonna give them all to you. I'm going to clamp your nipples and eat you out so you associate the pain with pleasure. I'm going to put a vibrator on your clit and leave you tied up until you've soaked the sheets. I'm going to pump you do full of cum that it's dripping from every whole on your body. I'm going to fuck you in the office and see how many people find out. Is that how you like it?"

You try to hold it back, to prologue the pleasure, but you csnt and it rips through you, your juices pushing out of you in a shudder, soaking Spencer's cock as he lifts your leg and deepens his angle. 

"How do you feel better than I remembered?" He moans as he begins shooting his load into you, cumming in you with a deep moan, locking his lips against that same spot on your neck. 

Maybe it's the post-nut clarity, maybe it's just the words that accidentally ripped from his mouth, but you're suddenly wide awake, the cloud of lust that had been shading you vanishing in an downpour of rain. 

He pulls out of you with a kiss to your lips and runs to the bathroom to grab you something to wash up with. He returns cheerfully, and begins his work, but you grab his hand and stop him as the realisation hits you. 

"Y/N, I'm almost finished, just let me clean you up." 

"What did you mean? When you said I felt better than you remembered?" 

He stills, trying to search for the right words to say. He obviously doesn't find them, because he evades his eyes and continues cleaning you up, not answering. 

"Spencer, do not fucking ignore me. What did you mean?" 

"I'm sorry." That's all he says, and you feel bile rise in your throat. He kneels between your legs and runs a hand through his hair, discarding the washcloth and putting some distance between the two of you. 

"You're sorry?! Spencer, look at me right now." It takes him a minute, but he finally meets your gaze. 

"Spencer, how long has it been since you remembered everything?" You try to hope, to wish this was all a misunderstanding, that he was going to tell you right after he cleaned you up, but you interrupted him. 

"Y/N, I have an eidetic memory…" The way his voice cracks finally has tears welling in your eyes. "I never forgot. How could I?" 

The wind ripples into the window, and as the temperature drops so does your heart. It falls to the floor and shatters into pieces as you discover his lie. 

"I think you should go. Go home." You say, as a tear finally escapes your eye, your stomach turning with the discovery that he really was too good to be true. 

"Y/N, please-"

"No. I want to be alone, let me… let me think, please." 

"Y/N, really, I think we should-" 

"Get out!" You shout, and that when your body starts heaving in sobs as you pick up anything near that you can find to gather up around yourself. The strength of your outrage, the display of emotions temporarily startles Spencer into supplication, and he gathers his clothes quickly. 

You sob watching him move around the busy space, you sob as he turns around to try to speak again, abandoning each attempt. You sob the hardest when he leaves, and you are alone in your apartment with all the weight of his dishonesty pushed upon you. 

🏷️ @w-windyy @multifandom-on-the-side @reidandhotchsgirl @babybluecakes @hugyourlungs @prentissesredtanktop @reidscaffeine @bethanyhaas01 @average-sunflower @academiareid @sailortongue @daddy-dotcom @high-functioning-cosplayer @anniewhalelover @abbyshmaby @isabel-ffl-xoxo @sujan39 @frxcless @bluestuesday @busy-buzzing @breadbrobin @maxinehufflepuffprincess @l0v3cam @booksandwonderlands @myescapefromthislife @ferrjulie @scoobydoopoo @aelinismyqueen @littlesingingbean @jamiemuscatosslut @xohoneybun @anchovy89freya @dysphoricsanity @ghostheartbeat @casss2111 @rebloggiest-reblogger @wishyoudaskme @imawhoreforu @academiacoffeelover @softservepunk @andiebeaword @r-3dlips @wakaladjarin @ratbastardchild @mcira @danika1994 @stargurl99 @whovianwholikesgirls @its-not-too-late-for-coffee @doriantomybasil

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid smut #mgg #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #reiderreplies #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #dom spencer reid #Series: That's What You Get

[mrs-weasley-reid]

Tricky Blunder

Spencer Reid x bau!reader | part 2

part 1

Summary: Mistakes always reveal what the heart really craves. And Spencer wasn't an exception as he desperately makes things right with you.

Warning: a sprinkle of angst and a cup of fluff

A/N: had two drafts, but this made the most sense in my head.

not my gif ctto :)

— ✿ — ✿— ✿ ✿ ✿

You gave Spencer a curt nod, "Hey."

Spencer's chest tinged at the sight of your smile. The kind of smile that gave him the impression that you two were absolutely fine and back to normal.

Hotch invited you to assist on the case that's been keeping the entire BAU team stressed out for the past three days. He thought you'd be a great help in increasing the team's morale and, of course, on the case.

Spencer took your arrival as a good sign. It has only been a month since you left the BAU. Maybe you'd change your mind and come back to the team. Besides, you wouldn't have joined them if you were still mad at him, right?

He thought he was getting ahead of himself. He knew he was getting ahead of himself. Taking the tiniest detail of your simple nod and civil smile into a desperate hope.

Your last exchange has been eating Spencer alive. The fallout repeatedly played out inside his head over and over in hopes that he could change the ending. He couldn't. Even an average person knew that they could never change what's been done.

You, on the other hand, did not dwell on your interaction with Spencer. In fact, as soon as you gave him some sort of acknowledgment, you immediately jumped in on a conversation with Emily. You were only being polite. It was in your nature.

If you were given the chance to boast, you would've said Hotch was almost begging you to help with the case. But you kept the idea to yourself and arrived with fresh sets of eyes. After all, the case specifically needed your specialty: human trafficking and victimology.

And fresh sets of eyes, you did bring.

While the others were occupied giving you a warm welcome, an arm suddenly wrapped around your shoulders, taking everyone by surprise, Spencer the most.

"I barely found parking," A man said to you in almost a whisper but loud enough for everyone to hear and gawk about.

Your eyebrows narrowed, "You're an FBI agent. How hard could it be to show your badge and get a spot?" You queried, forgetting about an entire team right in front of you.

The man grinned, "I wanted to prove I could find a spot without my toy." He spoke with you with such ease, as if you've known each other for years.

You rolled your eyes and shook your head. If you only weren't in public, you would've smacked your forehead from the utter disbelief you felt. That's when you remembered that it wasn't just the two of you.

"Oh, shoot! I mean…" You gestured at the man next to you, "Guys, meet Agent Ezekiel." You went on to briefly explain that you offered Hotch another pair of hands to help with the case, thus the agent's appearance.

Although you were clear about Ezekiel's purpose, everyone couldn't help but take note of his arm around you. The only man they saw wrap their arm around your shoulders was Emily during an undercover operation, where she pretended to be a guy.

Spencer was not a fan.

"And Zeke, meet the behavioral analysis unit. Agents Hotchner, Rossi, Jareau, Prentiss, Morgan, and… Dr. Reid." You introduced them accordingly, paying attention to each one of the agents.

"Mr. Genius! Nice to finally meet you! I've heard so much about you." Ezekiel exclaimed, stretching a hand out to Spencer.

Spencer stared at the hand in front of him, "Clearly not enough." He lifted his hands out of his back pockets only to transfer them to the front pockets. "And it's Dr. Reid."

He couldn't help but shift his focus between you and the obnoxious arm on your shoulders. He wasn't exactly certain why he was feeling that way. He guessed it had something to do with the fact that he didn't get the chance to speak with you.

Ezekiel looked at his hand and retracted it with a shrug. He leaned against you, "You said he was fun." His face was of pure confusion.

You lightly shoved his face away from you, removing his arm on your shoulders in the process. "I promise, he's more helpful than he looks." You had the mistake of looking at Spencer as you spoke with a playful smile, immediately diverting your gaze to anyone else but him.

The reflexive habit was still present. You always had a knack for aiming for Spencer's approval of your humor. After years of trying to make him laugh in spite of feeling depressed about Maeve, adjusting your humor to align with his became second nature.

Spencer found himself smiling a bit at the millisecond of attention you gave him. He missed it. He missed you.

If the universe was giving him a sign, you standing in front of him was one big slap of a sign. This was his chance to make things right with you.

He'd do anything to make it up to you.

His first attempt was to join any conversation you had with anyone on the team. He tried. He really tried to get your attention, but somehow, before he could even breathe a word out, Ezekiel pops out of nowhere and takes up all your attention.

"Why can't you do it yourself?" You groaned yet stood up from your seat. Spencer wished you didn't.

Ezekiel ruffled your hair, "Less complaining, more doing. You lost the bet, remember?" He laughed, leaning against his seat.

Derek swore he saw Spencer's eye twitch inside out after seeing Ezekiel ruffle your hair.

You stomped out of the conference room, mumbling, "Stupid bet," under your throat.

"You would've beaten Morgan up if he asked you the same thing."

You jumped out of shock, spilling a bit of the hot water on the counter. Spencer followed you out, standing awkwardly next to you. You silently wiped the water off the counter and quickly stirred the cup.

With one last tap of the spoon on the edge of the cup, you turned to Spencer, "Just be glad it wasn't you." You deadpanned, walking away without giving him the chance to say a word.

First attempt: failed.

You clearly weren't in the mood to speak with him, especially when you hadn't gotten your usual coffee. You hated precinct coffee to the bone. Thus, you tortured yourself from lack of caffeine and exhaustion.

This sparked Spencer's second attempt to gain your friendship back: offer you coffee. Your coffee order has been in the back of his mind for the past month. It turns out he liked your odd coffee concoction after finding himself with two cups of coffee every morning the first two weeks you were gone.

The first two days were purely out of habit. The rest were out of the delusion that you'd be sitting on your old desk when he gets in the office.

So, he could only imagine the dejection when you arrived the next morning with an unfamiliar coffee order and bright laughter as you told Ezekiel how his coffee order had changed your life for the better.

Spencer constantly expressed his disapproval. Of course, you weren't happy about it. What was worse was you didn't know why. And worse than that, he couldn't figure out why.

Or so he thought.

As soon as he found an opening, Spencer pulled you into the side. He brought the two of you into an empty interrogation room.

"What are you doing?" You snatched your arm from his grip. You weren't stupid. You noticed Spencer's fixation for your attention. You did your best to be civil, but he was making it very difficult for you.

"You've barely been in the ViCAP unit, and you're already smitten with your superior. I think it's safe to say it does not look good on you. You don't even know whether he's a decent guy." Spencer gulped. He knew exactly how stupid he sounded.

You blinked loudly and chuckled, "So?"

Spencer straightened his back and averted his eyes away from yours, "So… I suggest you…" He trailed off. He didn't plan this far. He should've planned farther than this. It wasn't exactly very clever of him, and your glare made him dumb.

"Suggest me what?" You crossed your arms on your chest. When Spencer didn't speak for fifteen seconds, you continued, "You have no right to tell me what looks good for me. Or anything about me. You made that pretty clear, Reid. Stick with it."

You purposely bumped into his shoulder on your way out, leaving him dumbfounded and dry-mouthed.

His chest felt tight as if a hand was clenching it into the tiniest crumple of paper. He closed his eyes in agony as he whispered, "Damn it," running his fingers through his hair.

With the 187 IQ he's been bragging about, he couldn't imagine his own disappointment when he failed to realize his feelings for you.

You have been nothing but kind to him. When he was grieving, you were the only one he wanted to confide in. You were the only one who could make him smile. The only one who could make him laugh with an average humor. The one that made painful things less miserable.

And without him knowing, he fell for your kind smiles and warm company.

He became addicted to you.

Spencer did his best to avoid it, but he couldn't help himself. How could someone not fall for someone amazing like you? Clearly not him.

Your friendship felt more important to him, though. It always was. It was too important that he spent his time finding a fix for his infatuation. Shoving his growing feelings for you as if it were a crime.

But you just couldn't let him not fall for you. You didn't even try. You were just you, and he was just one of your willing victims. It was inevitable.

The deeper he fell for you, the more he wanted not to.

He was a weakling, a stupid coward, and irrevocably in love with you.

So, was he disappointed that you fell for the genius prodigy? Or was he disappointed that he never realized how deep he'd fallen for you until you left?

The next day was Spencer's worst nightmare.

You were at gunpoint.

Close and yet so far.

"Come any closer, and I'll shoot her!" The unsub shouted, holding you by the neck with his arm wrapped around it.

Spencer felt his hands clammy. You were too close to the unsub for him to find an opening. Backup was still a few minutes away. He didn't know what to do.

He took a deep breath, "No one needs to get hurt. Just let her go, and we can talk this out." He kept his gun pointed at the unsub.

He made sure you knew that. He never wanted you to think that he'd ever point a gun at you, even if you weren't already.

The unsub's grip tightened around your neck, and you could barely manage to let out a gasp. Tears began to spill from your eyes as air dissipated from your lungs. Your consciousness was hanging by a thread.

"Shut the hell up!" The unsub shifted the tip of his gun towards Spencer. He glanced at you and at Spencer's pleading face. He laughed, "If you let me go, I'll make sure someone rich buys her. You don't have to worry. I'll make sure they treat her well."

"Don't!" You choked, "Don't listen to him, Spence!" You were stammering, almost unable to form words.

Hearing you call him by his first name for the first time in a while gave Spencer a concussion. A string of déjà vu coursed through his body. Spencer was more terrified than he already was. He couldn't lose you again. He couldn't go through it again.

You could see it in his eyes. You knew that look from miles away. You've seen the same look etched in the deepest vault in your mind. The only thing was, you never imagined that you'd ever be the reason for it.

And just as you always have… you chose him.

You focused on his brown eyes. You took a deep breath and met Spencer's gaze, "Take the blunder."

His eyes widened. He felt his heart quicken. Spencer vigorously shook his head, tightening his grip on his gun.

After spending time together in his gloomy apartment, you and Spencer found enjoyment in playing chess. A few phrases stuck to heart, inside jokes that filled both of you with mindless giggles.

What used to be a funny term turned into something Spencer feared the most at that moment.

You were asking him to shoot you.

"No! I won't do that!" Spencer shouted, shaking his head to the point of dizziness. There must be another way. He needed to find another way to save you.

"What the fuck are you two talking about?!" The unsub pointed the gun back at your temple. This time, he made sure you felt the cold metal on your skin.

Both you and Spencer knew that the unsub was too far gone to be reasonable. Your plan was the only plan that'd work. He had to shoot you and let the bullet through to hit the unsub down. Of course, it wasn't a perfect one.

But it'd save many lives and his, and you were content with that idea alone. Except Spencer wasn't.

You closed your eyes, "Spencer, do it!" You begged, suffocating. "Take the fucking blunder! Now!"

Spencer didn't notice his watery eyes, fixing his vision solely on you. His hands were shaking. His body was ice cold. He could hear you and your fading breath. He aimed his gun at your shoulder, steadying his stance.

A bright flash and two loud strikes prompted you and the unsub to fall to the floor.

Hotch came into view across Spencer, pointing his gun to where the unsub used to chokehold you.

Spencer flew to your side, taking you in his arms as sobs spilled out of his lips. "No, no, no, no. Not again, no. Please, no." He brushed the hair off your face, holding your cheek.

A chuckle curved the ends of your lips, "You're a horrible shot." Your eyes were still closed as you felt a small sting on your shoulder grow as it bled out.

His breath hitched. Spencer chuckled a cry as he pulled you into a hug. It was so tight and yet gentle enough to let you catch your breath. "I thought I was going to lose you," He whispered. You never thought Spencer would ever hug you tighter than he already was. "I didn't— I don't want to lose you."

Soon, Spencer had to let you go as the paramedics came to your aid. They dragged you out where everyone waited in anticipation.

Ezekiel was the first to run to you, "You alright?" He replaced Spencer's spot on your side.

"I'll live," you shrugged, regretting it immediately as you felt a painful shock travel from your shoulder. You cursed under your breath.

"Stop moving, dumbass." Ezekiel scolded, turning to the paramedics and asking them if there was any way he could help.

Spencer felt empty at the sight. His heart shattered at the sight of someone else taking care of you. But compared to Ezekiel, he had no chance. And it broke Spencer even more.

But that didn't mean he couldn't try to befriend you.

So he chose friendship. He always did, after all.

He visited you the next morning, the first one to arrive as soon as visiting hours began.

"Hey," Spencer flashed a thin smile.

You placed the book you were reading down on your lap, returning his smile, "Hey."

This time, Spencer knew you weren't just being polite. It made his heart swell from relief. He still had a chance to make things right.

He walked inside the room, placing a small bouquet of white daisies on the bedside table. Spencer pointed at your book, "I have a book just like that." He started, attempting to make casual conversation.

"It's actually yours," You flipped the pages, revealing thousands of annotations. You only knew one person who did that. "It was my favorite. I couldn't let it go…" You gently wiped the cover.

George Orwell's 1984 novel was the first book Spencer ever lent you. As you packed your stuff from your old desk, you couldn't help but pick up one book to keep.

Spencer looked around, "Where's Agent Ezekiel?" He wondered out loud. Maybe too loud. The name rolled off his tongue with subtle disgust. He felt conflicted about the guy's absence from your side but was also relieved that he got to have you to himself.

"He's talking to my aunt," You replied nonchalantly, refraining yourself from shrugging.

His eyebrows furrowed, "Your aunt? Don't you mean your mom?"

You shook your head, looking at him oddly. "Last I heard, Zeke's my cousin, not my brother."

Spencer's eyebrows lifted over his forehead, "Ah, right. Yeah, that'd be weird…" He gave his best to sound casual while he internally screamed in his head. If only he could do a somersault without breaking every bone in his body and looking stupid, he would.

"Imagine the horror," You scoffed, bringing the book up to continue reading.

He watched you silently for a moment. He never knew why he thought a friend was all he was ever going to see you as. It must be the stupidest idea he's ever had.

Spencer bit his lower lip, his hands clenched on the side of your bed, "I—" He bit his tongue, unsure how to continue or how to start.

You turned to him with raised eyebrows, "Hmm? D'you say something?" You closed the book, giving him all the attention he has been dying to get for the past week.

"I—uh…" He swallowed the lump in his throat, "I know it's way too late to say this, but," Spencer wet his lips and met your gaze, "I'm sorry for being a jerk and—"

"It's okay, Spence," You smiled, cutting him off. "I did throw my feelings at you out of nowhere, so I kind of understand—"

Spencer cut you off, "Still doesn't it make it right for me to be an asshole. It's not like you—"

You shook your head, "But I was being unreasonable. I had no right to stop you from—"

It was like a game. Both of you kept cutting each other off like an indecisive scale.

Spencer couldn't take it anymore and grabbed your face, giving you a quick, soft kiss on your lips. "Just shut up for a second…" His breath fanned on your face, "Please…" He rested his forehead on yours and began to speak as soon as he felt you nod. "I'm sorry for being a jerk. I'm sorry for reacting like a coward. And I'm sorry for being stupid." He spoke in a rush as if he knew you'd talk over him as soon as you had the chance to.

"I'm sorry I said I was disappointed in you. I made a blunder…" You laughed at his joke. "I thought if I turned you down, I'd never have to worry about losing you. I was obviously wrong." He playfully rolled his eyes, only widening your grin. "I was falling for you, and I chickened out—"

You felt giddy. You couldn't stop the grin on your face. Your eyes couldn't help but stare at his lips. You did your best to listen to his sweet words, but damn were you easily distracted by him.

Apologies after apologies, sweet words after sappy sentiments. You grew too impatient. He was talking too much.

"Spencer, just say you love me and kiss me," You interjected, pulling his shirt to get him closer.

He laughed softly. A sound that made your heart skip a beat. He caressed your cheek with his thumb, tilting your head higher.

"I love you… I'm in love with you."

Spencer felt so good to finally admit it: to you and to himself. He pulled you in once more and kissed you again, longer this time.

He couldn't get enough of it, enough of you. He only pulled away when a nurse came in to check on you, blushing like a red beet.

Not a second after, his phone rang. The team was looking for him and wondering where he was, emphasizing the fact that they were to fly in forty minutes.

Spencer went back into the room, low-spirited. He didn't want to leave you just yet. You had barely forgiven him, and he barely knocked some sense into his stubborn head. He wanted to stay and make up for the month he'd missed.

But duty calls, so he sat silently as the jet took off the runway, fiddling with the loose string on his cuff. A snapping sound pulled him out of his trance.

"Reid," Derek called out as he sat on the left seat across Spencer. "How'd it go?" Derek queried.

"How'd what go?" Spencer's eyebrows raised. What could Derek possibly mean?

Derek looked at him as if Spencer was crazy, "You said you'd go to the hospital to get your migraine checked out. Is everything alright?"

JJ heard their conversation, turning on her seat, "Didn't you get checked out last week? Is it getting worse?" She worriedly asked, joining the discussion.

Spencer's ears turned pink as he quickly glanced at JJ, "Y-yeah... I mean, no. I'm fine." He stuttered, clearing his throat.

Emily squinted at the boy genius' stutter. She wasn't as smart as him, but she knew him well enough to know when he was lying. "Which hospital did you go to?" She raised her eyebrows.

"The... one on..." Spencer wasn't prepared to take the hot seat. His mind was still clouded by the thought of you. It was like he was under the influence, unable to get his head straight.

"The one where she's staying?" Emily prompted.

"Yeah, the one where she's staying—wait who?" Spencer was taken aback.

Emily grinned, catching a glimpse of a purple hue on Spencer's skin hiding behind his collar. "I think he's fine," She told JJ and Derek. He looked at Spencer, "You're fine, right?"

Spencer hesitantly nodded his head.

Derek's eyebrows knitted, "What are you on about?" He turned to Emily, who was sitting next to him.

"When you're stressed out, what do you usually do?" Emily raised her hand before letting Derek answer, "With Savannah." She smirked.

"Damn, Prentiss. I didn't know you were that curious about my sex life." Derek replied sarcastically.

"No," Emily smacked her forehead. She decided not to explain herself any further. She looked at the genius across him, "So, how is she?" When Spencer gave her a confused look, she rolled her eyes, "Oh, please. Stop acting like you didn't just make out with her."

Spencer looked down and giggled silently. Busted. It was your fault, really. Before he left, you made sure to turn his frown upside down and did it so well that his mind was malfunctioning from the memory of your lips, leaving marks on his chest.

"She's fine. The doctor said she'd be able to fly home in a few days." Spencer replied giddily.

Emily smirked, "Yeah, I bet she's fine, alright." She pointed at Spencer's tie, enough hint for Derek and JJ to catch up in the conversation.

"My man," Derek's grinned.

JJ's eyes widened, and her mouth was slightly agape. "So, are you two made up?"

Spencer nodded, "Yeah... just a tricky blunder."

#spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #ssa spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid series #spencer reid x reader #criminalminds #criminal minds #spencer reid angst

[incognit0slut]

Right Kind of Wrong (20)

She never thought she’d be involved in a murder investigation and encounter her one-night-stand again, the awkward guy who isn’t exactly that good in bed—Or is he? Offended by the sentiment, Spencer is determined to prove her wrong… But as he gets tangled with the beautiful stranger, he realizes there is more to her than what meets the eye.

Part Summary: Despite everything, she found herself feeling happy. Part Warning: 18+ explicit content (male and female oral, creampie, overstimulation, Spence is kind of a dom but is still sweet) A/n: this is just 4k words of pure smut, I hope you enjoy this last part of the series :')

Other parts: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19

"Spence, you need to open the door!" She whispered harshly. His response was to press himself further into her, relentlessly sucking on her neck as he pinned her against his apartment door.

The road to his place had been filled with sexual tension, each passing moment heightening the desire that simmered beneath the surface. When he mentioned taking her home, she didn't expect it to be his apartment.

"It's closer from here," he had said when he pulled her out of the planetarium, practically dragging her towards his car. "Do you mind?"

Of course, she didn't. In honesty, she would have let him have his way with her even if he had taken her to the nearest restroom, or even in the confines of his car. She was too aroused to think properly that at least three times she had initiated some desperate contact throughout their journey to his place.

The first one unfolded at a red light as she seized the opportunity, tugging him towards her before shoving her tongue in his mouth. The impatient blare of car horns stopped them from doing anything further. Then the next initiation came as a subtle yet provocative touch when she traced his leg, inching closer to his crotch. He threw her a look as he took a sharp intake of breath.

Although the third initiation wasn't exactly directed at him, it still held the same amount of torture. When she gracefully slipped her fingers right between her thighs, his grip on the steering wheel tightened, his foot pressing harder on the gas pedal. He watched as the speedometer increased rapidly. Even when chasing Unsubs he had never driven this fast before.

And now that they were finally inches away from his apartment, he couldn't wait any longer.

"Spence..." she giggled, but then her laughter died down when his hand traveled between her legs. "Let's go inside."

Without a second glance, he retrieved his keys from his pocket and thrust them into her hands. She huffed in amusement and gently pushed him, turning to face the door, but then she felt him pressing against her back as she struggled to unlock his door. "Baby..."

He groaned at the sweet sound of her voice calling him by the intimate nickname, realizing it was the first time she had used it. She them felt his hand circling her hips, his fingers starting to rub her clit over her dress. She was beyond grateful no one else was currently in the hallway to witness what was happening.

When she finally managed to get the key into the lock, a wave of relief washed over her. Without wasting any more time, she swung the door open to his apartment, and Spencer, right behind her, practically pushed her inside before slamming the door shut behind them.

"Take off your underwear," he ordered, pausing only to lock his front door. Too stunned to argue, she began inching up her dress but then he was suddenly dropping on his knees before her, grabbing the hem of her panties and yanking them down her legs impatiently.

His hands roughly shoved her hips into the wall before he lifted one of her legs onto his shoulder. Seconds later his face was between her thighs, his tongue greedily lapping up her arousal. Her head rolled back into the wall in astonishment, both hands coming to grip fistfuls of his hair.

"Oh, shit," she moaned out, hands gripping his curly locks tighter.

His mouth shifted while two of his fingers slipped inside of her. Her hips jerked and a long whine of his name spilled from her lips as he pressed his tongue to her clit. His fingers began working in and out of her tightening walls once just as his tongue flicked over her clit, seconds before he pressed against the swollen, aching bud to lick a stripe over her flesh.

"Fuck, don't stop," she cried out, voice hoarse and desperate. Spencer had no intentions of stopping as he sucked her clit even harder, his fingers driving into her faster, earning every sinful noise that left her lips.

Her eyes cast downwards only to see her dress covering the view between her thighs, so she grabbed onto the fabric and in one swift motion lifted it over her head before throwing it to the floor. Her hands found their way to on his hair again when she could finally see him at the same time his eyes glanced up to see her perky breasts on display. The satisfied groan that left his lips traveled along her skin and her head fell back as she rolled her hips against his face.

Her walls began to contract around his fingers, thighs tightening against his head. His tongue remained diligent in circling her clit, lapping up her juices to taste every last drop. She could even hear how wet she had become from the sloppy noises flooding the room, mixing with her whimpers and the groans filling his chest.

She was uncontrollably shaking by now and with one final deep breath, the pleasure consumed her entire body. His fingers slipped out of her to hold her hips in place as she cane undone for the second time tonight, but his tongue continued to work against her clit through every second of the bliss.

The first wave of pleasure turned into breathy moans, overly sensitive to his constant torture, yet he didn't pull away. He kept on tasting her until she could hardly take it anymore and her hands dived for his head to push him away.

He finally pulled away, and all that was left were broken breaths and shaking legs. He was satisfied with himself, giving her flesh a rubdown with his palm flat against her skin, soothing the tension while she tried to steady herself as he placed her leg on his shoulder back to the floor. When she attempted to kick off her heels, a firm hand wrapped around her ankle.

"Keep them on," he whispered, his voice carrying a command that sent shivers down her spine. She couldn't do anything but oblige as she watched him get on his feet before she felt the warmth of his lips taking hers.

She could taste herself as his mouth pressed desperately on hers, nibbling on her bottom lip until they were parting for him. He effortlessly slipped his tongue in her mouth and she couldn't stop herself from whimpering as her hands roamed along his body, seeking more of his skin.

So she pushed off his suit jacket to the floor, then tugged off his tie, and when her fingers hurriedly unbuttoned his shirt, he slightly pulled away, resting his foreheads against hers. "We—" he sucked in a sharp breath when he felt her undoing his pants. "We need a safe word."

Her movements faltered for a moment before she continued to pull out his shirt under his pants, and that too went to the floor. "What?"

"I-I don't think I can hold myself back." He then gasped as she slipped a hand inside his underwear, wrapping her fingers around his girth. He closed his eyes, jaw going slack as she continued to run her palm along his length. "A safe word... please."

His plea hung in the air, a vulnerable request amidst the rising intensity. Her fingers hesitated for a moment as she saw the conflict in his eyes, the battle between restraint and desire.

After a slight pause, her eyes scanned around the room before they settled on the chessboard on his coffee table, and finally whispered, "How about Chess?"

An amused smile played on his lips. "Chess?"

"Take it or leave it," she laughed. She then rendered him speechless by dropping to her knees and tugging his pants down. "Besides, I'm not going to use it anyway."

He was caught off guard by her bold move, his eyes widening slightly. A mixture of surprise and arousal flickered in his gaze as she held him gently by the base as she examined him, her eyes focused on the clear drop of wetness trickling out from his tip. It was unreal how gorgeous he was.

A groan tore itself from him as he laid his eyes on her taking him into her mouth while she held his gaze, making him pay attention to every inch of his cock disappearing slowly in between her lips. His mouth fell open as she worked him deeper, tongue working to coat him in spit, cheeks hollowing in to add suction every time she pulled him out.

His brows screwed together, his mouth going slack. She gasped off him, and he gasped with her, sounding almost pained as she teased him with her tongue, running it from root to tip and back. He threw his head back only to whip it down seconds later, unable to keep his eyes away from her, body shuddering each time she swiped her tongue from his base to his swollen tip.

He choked on a groan when she took him back into her mouth, pressing him into her throat. He sounded almost alarmed as she took him down her throat over and over again as if she was trying to push her limits. She continued to suck him, but then she slowed down when she sensed his doubt, the self-restraint lingering in his head.

"Let go, baby. I'm right here. You can use me," she said in between suckling and messily kissing the tip of his cock, hauling him to the edge. "Please."

There was a moment of hesitation, a silent battle within him before his resolve seemed to waver. His hands, which had been clenched by his sides, flew out to tangle in her hair, holding on with a vice grip. She moaned around his cock, encouraging and maybe a bit patronizing, even as she wrapped her lips around him again.

His hips started to thrust into her open mouth now, mindlessly chasing that familiar sensation as his eyes locked with hers; his pupils blown wide, his mind empty but for the pleasure coursing through his body. He started slow, pushing and pulling his hips, and groaned at the feeling of her tongue moving around his length.

Then between the grunts, moans, and whimpers leaving him, his pace sped up as he forced himself into her mouth. She was now gagging around his cock, spit trailing down her chin, tears slipping from her eyes as she gazed up at him. She felt the way his muscles tensed up like his whole body was going to combust on the spot before he quickly pulled himself out of her mouth with a wet pop.

"Come here." Ever the gentleman, he helped her with gentle hands as she got up on her feet and before she could think about what came next, he muttered, "Wrap your legs around my waist."

"What?"

A squeal left her lips as he abruptly lifted her off the ground and she instinctively wrapped her legs around him, her arms going around his shoulders. "Spencer! What's gotten into you?"

He simply answered her with a smile before making his way down to his bedroom. "I blame you for this."

She stifled a laugh. "You're blaming me for acting like a wild animal?"

"Is it... too much?"

"Are you kidding? I'm enjoying this side of you," she confessed, clinging onto him as she kissed the side of his neck. "Please continue."

His chest shook at the same time his laughter filled her ears. But the amusement in his voice disappeared as fast as it appeared when they finally entered his room before he placed her on the edge of his bed. "Get on your knees and face the other way."

She didn't have to be told twice, scrambling on the bed as her knees sank deeper into the mattress. She felt him push down hard against her and she obliged, lowering her face and upper body to the bed as his other hand remained holding her hips up in the air.

A hand landed on her ass with a sharp smack before he gripped a firm handful of it. His cock swiped back and forth along her folds, gathering her wetness, letting it coat around his tip. He moaned out a deep, pleasure-filled noise that reverberated around the bedroom as he lined up the tip of his cock at her entrance.

"I..." His mouth fell open when he watched the way her walls stretched around him, clamping around his cock as if she was swallowing him inside. "I really don't think I can hold myself—"

"Just fuck me already," she ordered, bending over the bed and pressing her ass back into him. "I don't care."

He abruptly plunged inside of her.

"Fuck, yes," she whimpered, arching her back. Both of his hands gripped her hips as he began to thrust into her. Her eyes rolled back, her eyelids dropping closed as she fisted the sheets tighter in her hands.

"You feel so good," he growled out behind her. "So perfect."

Shifting her head along the bed, she glanced back at him. She couldn't fight the way her cunt tightened around his cock at the sight of him using her body as he pleased. It was still hard to believe he was the same man who lacked experience when she first met him. Yet after all the times they had spent together tangled in pleasure, she could see the increase of confidence every time he touched her.

A particularly deep and brutal thrust had his cock hitting her perfectlyand she moaned out loudly, her mind going blank to everything but the pleasure he was giving her.

"Right there, baby," she begged him, squirming her hips against him for more.

With her cheek pressed to the mattress, she focused on the way he looked. His hair was a sweaty, mussed mess on his head, and there was a very obvious sheen of sweat glistening along his forehead. He was grunting and breathing heavily as his fingers continued to dig into her hips. Then another loud smack echoed throughout the room as one of his hands harshly landed on her ass. He slowly released her hips before he grabbed her by the arms, hauling her back.

She moaned loudly in response, her hips bucking eagerly into him as he fucked her like a man possessed. He plunged his cock so deep inside of her that her toes began to curl inside her heels—dear god, she forgot she was still wearing her shoes. She wondered if he realized how much bacteria could stick on his sheets, but with the way he was thrusting relentlessly into her, she was sure the only thought he had at this moment was their connected bodies moving in sync.

His grip on her arm tightened to the line bordering between pain and pleasure just as his thrusts sped up to a pace faster. It felt so good she hadn't even noticed the way the pleasure built until it was nearly unbearable.

"I-I'm gonna—"

A scream ripped out of her as she felt her body shaking. Her orgasm hit her so suddenly and she didn't resist it, letting it wash over her and sear through every muscle. Her body writhed and she thrust her hips against his, grinding herself through her release despite him not slowing down. A final gasp filled the room, signaling the pleasure overwhelming her body, before he let go of her arms and she flopped back onto the bed.

Her orgasm slowed down to a stop and she took a deep breath before another loud and unrestricted moan released through her exhale as he flipped her onto her back. He smiled crookedly at her, cupping the backs of her knees, crudely pinning them to her chest as he suddenly stuffed himself back inside.

With her completely pinned beneath him, she couldn't do anything except cry out and wail in pleasure. His eyes were locked on the way she was stretched so wide around his girth. Spencer was known for his aversion to getting dirty, and for his meticulous nature, yet he found the messy tangle of their bodies didn't bother him in the least. The fresh white cream coating around his cock only fueled his pleasure.

It was warm, wet, and fucking messy.

"T-Touch yourself," he choked on his words, voice breaking as they came out. He was so close that it hurts. "Play with yourself for me."

Her hand flew down to do as she was told without a second thought. It only took a few, quick circles around her swollen clit before she was coming again, her heels kicking helplessly in the air. She had lost count of how many orgasms she had tonight, but she gladly accepted it as her back arched off the bed.

Spencer groaned at the sight of her losing herself beneath him. He watched as her fingers continued to rub her clit desperately, forcing herself to come even harder until a gush of liquid squirted around him. It splattered everywhere—across his hips, thighs, and even his chest. It made his eyes roll up into the back of his head before he let his head fall back, his jaw going slack while he let out a loud and deep moan as his orgasm finally washed over him.

His warmth filled her core and she felt his pace slightly falter before he continued with short, aborted little thrusts. His cock pulsed inside of her, each vein had a throbbing heartbeat that struck so painfully good against her walls. But even when his orgasm dissipated, he found himself rutting his hips into the creamy mess dripping out of her cunt.

"S-Spence," she choked out, gasping when his cock hit right into the pleasurable spot inside her. "I-It's too much. I c-can't."

"Just say the word," he panted, almost deliriously, "S-Say the word and I'll stop."

The sensations overwhelmed her, yet despite the intensity, she didn't want him to stop. Her unspoken desire was palpable, and he read her so well that her silence was all he needed to continue.

He released his grip on the back of her thighs as he shifted his weight onto his left arm, his right hand coming up to brush some hair off of her face tenderly before it landed back on the bed. He then leaned down, pressing his lips against hers at the same time her arms wrapped around his neck.

She was trembling and twitching with each one of his thrusts. He felt a pang of remorse for her, he could tell she was tired and overstimulated but he just needed to wring one last orgasm out.

"One more," he cooed sweetly against her lips. "Let me use you once more, can I do that?"

"Y-Yes," she whimpered, nodding her head as her eyelids fluttered in exhaustion.

Lowering onto his elbows, his body molded itself over the top of hers. Her hands were hungrily grasping at his back, attempting to bring him somehow closer as her hips rocked up into his again. She could feel the hard lines of him pressed to every inch of her; she could feel the flex and pull of his muscles with each of his fluid, rhythmic thrusts.

His movements slowed down, each deliberate thrust filled with a different kind of intensity. It wasn't the same urgency as before; instead, it was deliberated and unhurried, and he seemed to savor every moment as if etching it into his memory. He pressed himself further into her, a desperate need evident in the way he sought closeness as if he couldn't get enough of her.

He shifted, lowering his mouth to her neck. He began leaving affectionate, open-mouthed kisses along the length of it. Her back arched underneath him at the feel of him surrounding her so wholly, his cock burying itself repeatedly inside of her. She could feel her peak nearing again, her eyes rolling back as a high-pitched whine fell out of her mouth.

"S-Spence," she cried out, nails beginning to claw at his back now as she clung to him.

"I know," he answered, voice strained himself as he pulled his face away from her neck. "I know, Sweetheart. Let go for me, I got you."

His sweet, affectionate voice sent her over the edge. The way he held her, the way he peppered kisses along her lips, cheek, and neck, revealed a depth of emotion beyond the physical pleasure. It wasn't merely about finding release; it was an intimate exchange of passion. At that moment, she realized how much his feelings had grown, and she burned just as intensely for him.

"Oh, god," she whimpered at his voice, cunt gripping his cock. "Spence, I'm–"

A loud moan cut her off, her right hand releasing its hold on his back, flying up to grip a fistful of his hair. Spencer practically groaned in response, his hips beginning to stutter as her orgasm overtook her once again. She held him tighter, her body quivering beneath him as her moan gradually broke off.

His forehead lowered to hers, his sharp breaths falling over her with each of his rough exhales.

"That's my girl."

She was practically crying by now, caught in the whirlwind of pleasure and affection. She wasn't sure which emotion held a stronger grip, maybe both. But whatever it was, she surrendered to the overwhelming sensation, letting it wash over her as she held onto him.

His hips continued their movements, dragging her through the end of her release as he was nearing his own. She could hear the rumbling groan building in his own throat, his face abruptly falling against her chest.

A moment later he choked out a moan at the same time he roughly thrust himself deep inside of her, gasping as he came for the final time. His cock twitched almost painfully inside her as he slowly rocked his hips, wincing at the overstimulation and filling her up at the same time.

He thrust into her a few more times before his hips finally stilled. Her hands began running soothingly along his back as he slipped out of her and then collapsed atop her, still careful to keep from crushing her.

His skin was damp with sweat from his exertion, his shoulders heaving as he tried to catch his breath. He rested his cheek against her chest and a happy noise fell out of his mouth as he relaxed. Her voice was the first thing that broke the silence. It wasn't even a spoken word, but a soft, girly giggle that he turned his head to look at her.

"What?"

She smiled at him. "You called me your girl."

He looked at her in amusement. "Well, aren't you?"

A hint of uncertainty lingered in her expression. "I don't know. Am I?" She sighed, the weight of unspoken emotions in the air. "We just... we haven't talked about this. I didn't want to assume things."

He took a moment, gathering his thoughts, a visible struggle for someone not accustomed to verbalizing deeper feelings. "Y/n," he finally began, the sincerity in his voice cutting through any hesitation. "I risked my life for you. Of course, you're my girl."

Her heart swelled at the gravity of his words, the unspoken commitment hanging in the air. It was a vulnerable moment, and yet, he had chosen to express himself. She gazed into his eyes, finding a depth of sincerity that touched her heart.

"I'm not good with words," he continued, his thumb tracing circles on her skin. "But I do care about you. More than I've cared about anyone in a long time."

A warmth spread through her chest at his admission. It was a vulnerable side of him she hadn't seen often, and it made her appreciate the depth of their connection.

"I care about you too," she replied softly, her fingers running along his damp hair. "More than I expected."

His smile was genuine as he turned onto the bed, pulling her against his chest. "Then I guess we're each other's," he declared.

The woman she used to be wouldn't have envisioned herself in this present moment, considering the twists and turns life had taken in the past few months. Despite everything that had happened, a subtle happiness filled her, a sentiment she cherished deeply. Her smile deepened, and a soothing sense of contentment settled between them as she eased into the comfort of his arms.

His words enveloped her like a comforting embrace. It wasn't a grand gesture, but it was genuine, and in that quiet moment, it felt more than enough.

>> EPILOGUE

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[strawbeerossi]

August || Chapter One

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid

Chapter Description: After a few days, you are back at the office whenever you have an emotional outburst over the JJ/Spencer situation. That leaves you to have a soul shattering boundary you need to put into place.

Content/Warnings: Drama in the workplace, mentions of questioning self worth, Penelope is the best friend ever (duh), horrible friends, Spencer is an ass (again, sorry lmao)

WC: 2K

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“I don’t think I can come in today. I’m sick." You spoke to Emily over the phone, even feigning a cough, as you were just hoping she’d fall for it. It was only a few days after the wedding, the whole water in the face incident creeping up to embarrass you. 

“You can’t avoid them forever, you know. Now come to the office. All you need to do is work and then go home. No need to talk to JJ or Spencer.” The unit chief spoke over the phone, her tone making you just feel the disapproving look on her face. 

“Fine..” You huffed a bit while pushing yourself up from your couch, already dressed for the day, anyway. “I’ll be there soon.” With a defeated sigh, you were hanging up the phone and pocketing the device. It would be a good day, right? All you had to do was get through it.

The drive to the office was horrible, feeling nauseous with each mile you drove. Most people would assume that after your small outburst at the wedding, you’d feel better. That was far from the case. The action just made you feel worse, knowing that Spencer nor JJ attempted to follow you out, to explain themselves. There was radio silence from both of them.

You probably should’ve expected that. 

As you arrived at the dreaded building and parked in the parking garage, it wasn’t long until you were on the elevator and on your way up to the floor you needed to get to. The more you stood there, the sicker you felt. Facing two people who you are forced to work with is going to do nothing but hurt you even further. You could quit, although then you’d be homeless. Putting in a transfer was a good option, even if you’d miss your other teammates. 

The sound of the elevator’s ding was tearing you from your thoughts, your steps deliberately smaller and slower just to take the last few seconds to prepare yourself. The minute your hand was on the glass doors of the bullpen, you knew there was no more hiding. 

Much to your surprise, the team was too busy at their desks to even look up. Thank god. You quietly approached your desk, your purse being placed underneath, as you took your seat. That got everyone’s attention.

“Hey.” Luke spoke first, a smile on his face. “You’re later than you usually are, was worried we’d have to come get you.” He joked, causing Tara to laugh softly from her desk.

“We would’ve been there too. It isn’t a good workday when you’re not here.”

At least you knew the rest of the team considered you as a friend. No way they’d ever do the things JJ and Spencer did to you. Just thinking of them had a frown on your face, your eyes on a file that you’d opened previously. 

“Well, I couldn’t leave my favorite people hanging, could I?” You finally broke the silence while offering a forced smile. The idea of a transfer just made you feel horrible now. You were stuck here, no escape in sight.

While you were working on a case file you’d neglected, it wasn’t long before the door was opening again. This time, there was laughter and lighthearted discussion from two very distinct voices that you recognized. God damn it.

It was best to keep your eyes down, even though you could feel every person’s eyes burning into your skin, just waiting for a reaction. You felt like a circus act, expected to perform based on one interaction you had a few days ago.

The three of you didn’t even have to look each other in the eyes in order to make the whole room thick with tension that the strongest knife couldn’t even cut. “Can we be adults? I really don’t wanna discuss what happened.” JJ spoke up, knowing the attention was on all three of you. 

The audacity of her wanting to move on was what made you finally turn around, your ears heating from the anger that was still deep inside you. “Are you kidding me? You wanna be an adult and not get questions?” You asked, unable to help the laugh that fell from your lips. “Here’s a question that I know you want to be asked; How’s Will doing? Judging by how you wasted his time for.. Eleven years? Better yet, how are Michael and Henry? I think that someone needs to look out for them.” Venom seeped deep into every syllable.

She had a family. A husband who loved her, children who adored her and needed her. Yet here she was, with a man who she hadn’t even shown any interest in. The whole situation made you sick to even think about.

“That’s not fair.” The blonde spoke up, visibly hurt by the topic being brought up. The absolute fucking nerve. 

“You’re right. It’s not fair. It’s not fair to Will and the boys at all. I guess you didn’t stop to think about them, did you?”

“Enough!” Emily snapped from the doorway of her office, arms crossed over her chest. “This is ridiculous. The last thing any of us need is you two bickering all the time. I suggest you solve this and let it go. I will not deal with the bullshit. I’m sorry.” 

The frustration of your unit chief made you take a breath, putting your hands up. “I can’t pretend like this is right and I will not endorse this fraud of a relationship. If you choose to fire me, that’s fine.” Your built up anger and hurt made you push in your chair, your purse on your arm as you were storming out of the bullpen.

Penelope was the one that caught you in the hallway as you were making your escape. “Wait!” She screamed, quickly following behind you and grabbing your arm before you could make it to the elevator. “Come hang out with me for a little bit. Don’t make any rash decisions.” 

You didn’t answer, instead just letting the tech analyst pull you behind her into the safety of the batcave. As soon as that heavy door was closed and you realized you were with one of your best friends, it was like the dam holding in all your tears had been burst open as a hot stream of tears was running down your cheeks.

“Oh, honey..” Penelope frowned softly as she was letting her arms wrap around your body, giving you a tight squeeze as she was rubbing your back. “It’s okay, you can sit in here as long as you want. We will just tell Emily that you need some Garcia time.” Everyone could benefit from such time. 

You were forced into one of the chairs while the bubbly blonde grabbed one of her many phones to inform Emily on what was going on. “Just so you know, I don’t think you’re wrong for feeling the way you do. I would be just as upset.” She assured, the woman now sitting down beside you while gently holding your hand. “I just think that you should maybe calm down a bit. We don’t need any physical fights.” 

“I can’t help it, Pen. Why? Why would JJ encourage me to tell Spencer how I feel about him and then jump on him at the next opportunity. She has a family.” You knew that she wouldn’t have a concrete answer for you but you had to admit, it was nice just ranting to her about it. “It also hurts knowing that Spencer just.. Stopped talking to me. It made me feel like I was a placeholder for her. Like he was just entertaining himself until what he truly wanted came around..” 

There was a soft silence between you both, though it was soon being broken whenever there was a knock on the door. “Come in!” Penelope called to the mystery guest, although the both of you were in a stunned silence whenever Spencer Reid was poking his head through the door. 

“I come in peace, just let me talk.” 

“Too little, too late. I don’t wanna hear it.” You spoke, standing your ground.

Instead of taking the hint, the man just entered the room before closing the door behind him. “I understand that you’re mad at me, pissed at me even. I can handle it. That being said, I don’t want trouble. I came to personally apologize. I was a shitty friend to you these past few days with not reaching out.” 

“You are a shitty friend, Spencer. You know, I thought you were supposed to be by my side. I don’t expect you to be madly in love with me but what kind of friend ignores someone for days? What kind of friend makes their friend feel unimportant and makes them question their self worth?” You asked, keeping your composure as you were going to put everything on the table.

“I think you’re a horrible friend. Not just to me but to Will. I think you’re a horrible person who broke up a family. JJ may have left Will but you didn’t even stop and try to make her consider her husband. You were selfish.”

It seemed like a sobering realization, judging by the way Spencer’s eyes widened and his body went stiff. He needed to hear that, even if he wasn’t planning on changing things. “I- Wow. I don’t know what to say,” He let out an awkward chuckle as his hand rubbed the back of his neck. 

“I’m sure you don’t. Doesn’t sound like a good situation whenever someone says it out loud, does it?” You asked, voice cracking toward the end of the sentence as you were clearing your throat. “I just want you to know that I have no interest in talking to you outside of work. I think it’s best for you just to stay away.” A necessary boundary that killed you inside, however it needed to be put into place. 

“You don’t mean that. I don’t wanna lose you permanently like that. Please, just take some time to consider.”

“You lost me the moment that you chose to devote every ounce of your time to someone who didn’t ever say that she wanted to be with you until the night you were in a hostage situation together.” 

“We weren’t even dating, listen to yourself. We had sex, what, a few times? I hardly find that as something serious, especially whenever you never even seemed like you objected to the thought of something casual.” 

“Spencer Reid!” Penelope’s horrified voice was what solidified that you weren’t crazy, that he was in the wrong just as much as you could be.

You wanted to scream, punch him, cry, and just lose it. This wasn’t the place for such outbursts but you knew that the minute you got out of everyone’s line of sight, you were going to shatter. 

Your nights spent with Spencer were something you cherished. The way he’d touch you, the way he’d hold you.. It just felt like there was something real there, the potential for a love story that you could read about in novels, see in movies, even hear in songs. Instead, you were casted off as a casual plaything. There was no care behind the long nights spent tangled in one another’s embrace. 

“You know,” There was a laugh erupting, your arms over your chest. “JJ is gonna get bored of you. If she can leave her husband, she will leave you too. I think the day she does that is the day that you will feel the same way that I do. And you know what? I hope it fucking hurts. I hope she keeps you up at night wondering why you weren’t good enough.” 

With that, you were done. Emily would most definitely be calling you in her office for a meeting in the morning, so you just grabbed your bag and walked to the elevator.

You said what you needed to say and you thought it would make you feel relieved, instead, there was more hurt than you could’ve possibly fathomed. 

How stupid you were to think that he actually saw something in you.

#criminal minds fandom #spencer reid fandom #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid angst #spencer reid au #spencer reid fanfic #doctor spencer reid #dr spencer reid #strawbeerossi august series #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid scenario

[radiant-reid]

Truth

Summary: Reader knows there’s something going on between JJ and Spencer but she trusts him that that’s just the way they are... until he goes to LA

i cannot find the request for this, ugh !!! 

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader (Angst)

Word Count: 3.7k

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Y/n had let it go after that night.

"You're not seriously upset about this, are you?" Spencer asks incredulously once the apartment door clicks shut. 

It had been an incredibly awkward car ride together, twenty minutes home in complete silence. He hates when it gets cold and distant between them, even though he usually causes it by neglecting to discuss his feelings, but this time, he's fired up. Y/n can't read if he's dumbfounded or shaken. 

Although often synonymous, there's a difference here. If Spencer's dumbfounded, he thinks her suggestion is ridiculous and totally, 100% wrong. It would be offensive wording but best for the preservation of their relationship. If he's shaken, then she's correct, and he's coming to terms with the significance of that discovery himself.

Y/n sighs as she spins around to face him, her plan of making a beeline to the bedroom falling through. "That was flirting. She was flirting with you, Spencer." She tells him firmly. 

Spencer shakes his head, stunned by the allegation she's choosing to repeat. "She was- are you okay?"

"Don't make it about me." She instructs. 

"It's about you when you're talking..." Crazy is the word he stops himself short of saying- they both know it. He breathes deeply to calm himself. "She wasn't flirting with me." He maintains. "We're friends." 

Y/n shakes her head. She knows he needs it explained to him, simplified to an extent, but upholding his position so staunchly doesn't make her want to do that. "You don't have to best track record for knowing when people are flirting with you." 

"What's that supposed to mean?" He asks, his eyes narrowing. 

There's a specific incident she's referring to, but there's been more than a few annoying instances when she's left standing at his side fuming. She's aware he doesn't do it on purpose. Spencer's not an asshole purposefully trying to make his girlfriend jealous by accepting flirtatious behavior from other women, but he's handsome. And unfortunately, not immediately rejecting advances makes it seem like he's interested.

"Spencer." She had told him when she finally pulled him off to a slightly quieter corner of the bar the team was in. "Her asking you what you're doing this weekend isn't her having an interest in your Korean film festival."

Spencer had been much better at getting it since then. He profiles a bit more cynically, purposefully looking for indicators that someone's interested in him. 

Not tonight.

It was Michael's first birthday which, of course, meant it was a big celebration- BAU style. Spencer attended like the proud godfather he was, making sure every single one of JJ and Will's friends knew their son's achievements. 

What should have been a lovely day would have turned into a discussion about them having their own kids when Y/n expressed how attractive Spencer looked while he held Michael's hands so the boy could practice walking. 

But no. 

Instead, they're standing on different ends of the kitchen island, both uncompromising in their views because of more than a few moments at the party between JJ and Spencer. 

"She was flirting with you, Spencer." Y/n holds firm. "Touching your arm, giggling at your jokes, whispering stuff to you." She lists the frequently used tactics that she witnessed. She's become accustomed to them working on Spencer, but he has always admitted, upon later reflection, that the motive was more than friendly.

He can't believe it this time, and he quickly gets defensive. "Just because you don't think I'm funny doesn't mean everyone doesn't."

Y/n scoffs, irritated he would twist it so spitefully to play the victim. "Seriously?" She deadpans, waiting for him to react better. 

"It was an inside joke." Spencer tries a different tactic that only has her eyebrows raised again. He sighs dramatically, gripping the edge of the bench. 

"This is ridiculous." She states. 

"I'm glad you see that too." He argues. "JJ was not flirting with me."

His insolence further fuels her anger. "Even Will looked uncomfortable." Y/n hits back.

"She's my friend." He repeats. "We are their friends. JJ and Will have been married for years. They've lived together and raised a son for even longer. I'm their sons' godfather. She's been my friend for more than a decade. There's nothing malicious going on."

It didn't feel like that. And that was likely because Y/n had only gotten to know them years following their friendship's establishment.

Maybe he's right. It's feasible that Y/n just hasn't found her place in the dynamic. "Are you sure?" 

Spencer senses her walls coming down, and he steps closer to her in a few tense strides, cupping her cheeks in a way that makes her melt. His eyes soften until there's no anger remaining. "Yes, my love. I promise there is nothing romantic between JJ and I." He assures her.

It's so sincere. Spencer has always been a persuasive talker, and it's gotten him out of dangerous situations.

Maybe the deep gut feeling she has is off. There's no way to know what happens behind closed doors, but JJ and Will appear to be happily married. Her life seems completely fulfilling. It makes no sense for her to have a crush on Spencer. 

So she's determined to shake it off- for Spencer, her own sanity, and their relationship. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have jumped to such a drastic accusation."

"No, no. Hey, I will always listen to your feelings." Spencer reminds her softly. "I'm sorry I didn't immediately hear you out. It was just unexpected. I would hate for you to stop talking to me about your emotions if you think I'll shut you down."

"Thank you, and I'm sorry," Y/n replies.

His words are massively relieving, and her negative thoughts aren't weighty. "I love you, Y/n."

She smiles softly. "I love you too."

"Can I kiss you now? I've been wanting to for hours." He begs, thumbs stroking over her cheekbones. He's elaborating a little but for good reason.

"Please." She agrees. 

His fingers curl around her head while he leans down to kiss her, not breaking it until they're both out of air. Everything's okay.

And so Y/n had let it go after that night.

She was with him through everything. Dealing with his mom, Mexico, prison, and the long recovery after that. She was with him through thick and thin, even when Spencer had given up on himself. He'll never understand what he did to deserve her love, but it means everything to him. She's the calm presence in amongst his chaos.

No issue in their relationship has been too hard to tackle when they worked together through Spencer's personal problems so well. Nothing between them seemed insurmountable since Spencer's life was so tumultuous.

When he gets home from his case in LA, she's in the bedroom, checking his suit for Rossi's wedding the next day is in perfect condition. The ironing is crisp, not a single wrinkle on the fabric.  

He usually calls out when he enters the apartment door, both so she'll reply, and he'll know what room to navigate to, and so she doesn't freak out about hearing footsteps on the floorboards. 

This time, he doesn't. 

It's like his brain got torn out and is still sitting on the floor of a little jewelry store in downtown LA. His thoughts remain entirely occupied by the previous day's events. Even though the jet home was long, he didn't sleep for a second. It's 7 am East Coast Time now, but it feels like just a second ago, his world got rocked.

"You're back!" Y/n grins, still unaware of the grave news he's bearing. She searches through her jewelry box for a piece to complement her dress. Her final moments of blissful ignorance. "Okay, so I was thinking you might need to nap before the wedding since it'll probably go late- I mean, you know Rossi."

"Y/n." Spencer whispers, trying to stop her from spreading joy and being the life in his life. He absolutely does not deserve that, as he lies by omission. He speaks weakly on purpose, wanting to listen to her excited ramble despite knowing he needs to be honest and say something that will crush her.

She doesn't hear him, and hasn't looked at him hard enough to see his devastation. "But your suit is good to go. I've got some other stuff to do, so have a nap, and I'll have lunch ready when you're up."

"Y/n!" He snaps much too loud. 

Her eyes flick to his, and she knows something drastic has changed. Her stomach drops in dread as the air in the room turns stale.

"What?" She asks cautiously, voice wavering. Her heart thumps in her chest. "What is it, Spencer?"

"JJ said..." Spencer trails off, looking straight past his girlfriend. He's not brave enough to look at her directly. 

No more explanation is needed for it to click. 

Her whole world gets shattered instantly, everything she built with Spencer, every dream and hope she had with him, is destroyed in a second. 

Her stomach stays dropped so low it feels like it's weighing her down and that she could be physically sick. She feels paralyzed until tears start streaming down her cheeks. 

"Oh." She whispers, although it's as loud as a jet engine in the silent room. "Wow. Okay."

Spencer wanted more than that. He wants her to scream at him, telling him he should have stopped thinking he knew everything and listened when she was suspicious. Spencer would take any range of passionate emotions over the silence she's giving him as she processes it. He begs with his eyes for her to tell him what she's feeling. 

It's to no avail. 

He thinks he's getting somewhere when she stands up, that maybe she'll hug him or enquire about the cut on his hand. 

"What happens now?" Y/n asks, ignoring her own tears and his. She always cups his cheeks and wipes them up gently because seeing him in pain pains her. That's how love works.

"Y/n..." She needs him to say more that time. Her soft-spoken name leaving his lips is bad news.

She forces herself to nod and swallow down her distraught tears. "It's okay. I know." It would hurt to hear him admit it, but she might think he's not a coward. 

Now Spencer's paralyzed, watching his nightmare play out in front of him, and he's incapable of preventing it, of making her stay. 

Her delicate, shaking fingers unclasp her necklace, and the 18k gold chain with an 'S' pendant burns a hole in her hand before she thrusts it into his. 

It's warm against his cold hands, a sign it's not where it should be. It's supposed to be daintily sitting on Y/n's chest, near her heart, for the rest of forever.

"No." He finally says, gasping a breath out. "What are you-"

She cuts him off before he talks for too long and causes her to remain so in love with him that she can overlook a massive problem. "You love her." She voices what they've been dancing around. It's an ugly, hurtful truth. "You might be in love with me, but you love JJ more than you should."

Spencer shakes his head, frantically denying the claim they both know is factual. As awful as it is, he's thought about a future with JJ on more than one occasion and during a long-term relationship. It's not that he wants to be with her- which would be a complicated mess and break everyone involved hearts- but something between them remains unresolved. All because of two tickets to see the Redskins.

Y/n speaks before he can, tilting her head upward as she tries to brush back some of her tears. "Don't lie to me, Spence. Please don't." 

He figures he owes her that much. Nothing he could say would fix the torpedo that ripped through their relationship. So he doesn't protest or fight for their relationship as she readies to leave him.

"I'll go now and get some stuff once you've gone out." She decides.

Her stuff which means she's planning on separating everything, and he'll never see her things again. Never mind the possessions- he might never see her again.

There's no point in making a case for her to come to Krystall and Dave's wedding when she only knows them through him, but Spencer isn't sure how he'll be able to sit through a ceremony and speeches and dinner and drinking and dancing- where everyone's feeling the love- when all he would have been thinking about is how it should be his turn next. It sounds like torture.  

Spencer stands there, horrified and helpless, as she slips past him. "Goodbye, Spence." 

And just like that, she's gone. 

It's surreal. 

Surely- surely- the love of his life hadn't just walked out the door and left him. That can't have happened.

He doesn't even feel overly tired, but he must be so sleep-deprived that he's imagining things. Having visions is a less scary thought than Y/n leaving. 

The surreal feeling and eerie silence deepen, and he quickly collapses on the couch from overwhelming fatigue, hoping the past hours have been a terrible nightmare. 

When he wakes and calls out for Y/n, quickly realizing she's not there and his worst fear has come true, Spencer sobs. He cries so much through getting ready for the wedding that his cheeks are blotchy, and his eyes blood shocked as he looks at himself in the mirror. He looks terrible, but he feels so much worse. It's emptiness. His eyes look dull, his hair scruffy, and his heart aches. 

Her dress is still there- dark blue that compliments his suit, but it's matchy-and it hangs in the wardrobe on a coat hanger from the dry cleaner, taunting him. Spencer's hand comes to cup his mouth as panic and nausea rock his stomach. Y/n should be wearing the dress and beside him the whole afternoon while they celebrate love. Something's amiss, and he hopes no one calls him on it because he will, without a doubt, break down in sobs.

Germs feel permanently on him, and he's guilt-ridden. Sure, JJ's words in LA weren't his fault, but- fuck- he should have said something to stop the love of his life from walking out under the wrong impression that he loved someone else.

He makes a beeline for Penelope at the bar to avoid being around JJ and get some alcohol in his system so that maybe everything will hurt less.

She looks pretty, but Will gazes at her like she hung the moon, and Spencer quickly realizes he could never feel that way. Her glances across the room at him piss him off, whereas Y/n's would make him blush.

"No Y/n?" Penelope asks, looking disappointed when he walks over alone. 

That's the reaction his amazing potentially-ex-girlfriend inspires in his friends. People love her for her warmth and humor, and Spencer's sure the team is grateful someone's making him smile. 

"Unfortunately not." Spencer grimaces as he gets the lie out. "She's sick." Or, more likely, bawling her eyes out at her friends because her boyfriend is a jerk, Spencer figures. He would feel worse for lying if it were possible. 

"Oh damn, I have heard there's a bad flu." Penelope easily believes the lie.

"What are you making?" Spencer asks, redirecting the conversation to the cocktails she's expertly whipping up. 

The wedding is small, which Spencer's sure is appropriate for a fourth or third round 2. It feels wrong to be there without Y/n. If he's eventually going to have one of these with her, surely he should be looking at the flower arrangements while she notices hair options. Not judging, just getting ideas.

It would be nothing like JJ and Will's wedding. Y/n would hate a surprise wedding with no choice in decor or food, even though it's romantic in theory.

He could never marry someone like JJ. He could never marry JJ. 

She's a real person. That seems to be a fact he keeps forgetting when he thinks about a future with her. She can't be the idealized version of her from his 24-year-old self's fantasy, and with her sitting no more than 20 feet from him, he's positive she's not who he's compatible with.

It's worse at the speeches. Emily stands with perfectly crafted words, and Spencer's almost in tears when the story verges from being Dave-and-Krystall specific.

"...that this was fate." His running thoughts halt at Emily's words. "...that their marriage was in the stars."

That's him and Y/n. They lived a block from each other in DC but had to travel three and a half thousand miles across the Atlantic Ocean to meet. That's fate. He recalls her laughter when he joked that the universe got sick of them not finding each other and forced them together. And the subsequent, love-filled conversation where they decided soulmates, and twin flames, must be real because they are the embodiment of the term.

Rossi is always a high-roller at Vegas casinos. There was no doubt he'd meet a blackjack dealer. It's not fate the way he and Y/n are fate.

He's always been sure she's the one, but this is the ultimate determining tool.

They have to be together. Spencer and JJ had bottled up their crushes without voicing them for more than a decade, and that's why it messed with his brain so much. Emily talking about confessions taking time to work out is not about them.

His fingers play with the tablecloth as he drafts a speech of his own, one that will set things right. He's too antsy to enjoy the rest of dinner or dessert. All he's thinking about is how soon he can leave- of course, after wishing the happy couple well. 

Spencer knows where she is. The doorbell camera already notified him when she had arrived at their apartment, which might now be an invasion of privacy.

It's a bit of a drive to get home, and he's thankful he stopped at one cocktail so he wouldn't do something stupid, like yell at JJ in front of their friends. As mean as it sounds, he doesn't have emotion to waste on her. It's all poured into love for Y/n. 

He doesn't have time to wait for the elevator, taking the stairs three at a time.

"Y/n!" He calls out as soon as he swings open the door. His heart pounds in his chest thanks to his poor athleticism, but mostly because this is the most important thing he'll ever do in his life.

"Yeah?" She replies, her voice coming from the bedroom as she steps out

She looks heartbroken seeing him, destroyed by the damage he caused over the last ten hours, and there's no way this can be how he leaves her, that this can be the last time he sees her.

"Don't say something that hurts." Spencer can tell Y/n's trying to be firm, but she's begging. There is no way he can ever hurt her.

"I won't." He swears. It's tense, and he feels award standing there. "Y/n, I-"

"I told you." She reminds him, referencing one conversation he's been thinking about. She was so good at dropping it after he offered her unknowingly untrue reassurance. Her plan to let him do the talking flies out the window, and she can't help releasing the brewing emotions. "I knew she loved you and hoped you didn't love her back. And now everything is fucking mess, and I just didn't think that you would do that."

"I don't love her that way." Spencer declares, and he doesn't feel guilty because he's not lying.

Y/n rolls her eyes. "You owe me the truth."

He tentatively steps closer, and she doesn't stop him. "I don't look at JJ and see my future. She's not the person I think about when I see an old couple walking down the street. I don't know the songs she listens to when she's sad or the correct amount of syrup she likes on her pancakes. I don't know the number of her childhood home or favorite piece of art in the Met. I'm not sure if she sings in the shower or if she ties her shoes with two loops. And I don't want to know any of that. You're the only person I ever want to know that personally. I don't love her the way romantic love works. But I didn't know that until I met you, and the very first day, I realized it was different. I know you said that, and I am so sorry I convinced you not to listen to your gut."

Y/n's crying by the end of his beautiful, naturally spoken words. He rushed to get it out, and she processes it for a minute. "Okay." She decides, accompanied by a choked sob.

Spencer frowns because he can't read her properly. "Okay?" He repeats softly. 

She steps forward, which has to be a good sign. "I need you to kiss me now." 

Spencer's crying too slightly as he closes the gap between them, cradling her face like he might shatter her in his palms. "Okay." He whispers, closing the distance between their lips without wasting another second. It's heavier than usual, holding a thousand unspoken words, but it feels like a resolution.

He holds her long after they've run out of air, finally feeling like he can breathe now that he's home.

"I am so in love with you." He tells her. "There is no one else I could ever be with."

She smiles softly back at him. "I'm in love with you too." She replies. "And this suit... you look very handsome."

He smiles widely. "You're the most gorgeous girl in the world." She doesn't bother reminding him that she's been crying and looks washed out. Spencer will forever insist that she is perfect. "Can I take you to dinner? Because I have missed you."

She nods. "I'd love that. And I have the perfect dress."

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#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fanfic #Spencer Reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fandom #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid angst #Criminal Minds #criminal minds angst #criminal minds series #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #criminal minds fic #CRIMINAL MINDS FANDOM #criminal minds family #criminal minds oneshot #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x y/n

[eideticallys]

I Don't Mind If It's You

pairing: spencer reid x reader

summary: maybe styling spencer’s hair should be an everyday thing for both of you.

genre: fluff

word count: 1081

author's notes: i missed spencer's long hair so i decided to write a self-indulging fic about playing with his hair. also posted on ao3 (spencereids).

SPENCER HAS ALWAYS FOREGONE STYLING HIS HAIR IN THE MORNINGS. He always thought as long as he could just flick the strands of hair behind his ear, he was good to go. And besides, he had a hair tie with him. He could just simply tie it back—no more pesky hair in his line of sight.

He has always foregone styling his hair in the mornings until he met you. While he was big on practicality & “Hairstyling is a waste of time”!” You were the exact opposite. 

It’s quite a funny thing to think about. Spencer, a certified germaphobe, was uncaring about how his hair looked, whether it was kept well today or it looked like a bird’s nest the next. And then, there’s you. You’re not a germaphobe though you pride yourself as a chic woman. Not a law enforcement job could stop you from looking like you came straight out of a magazine.

You always found the time to make sure your hair looked pretty and presentable before heading to work. In your free time—quite rare for FBI agents—you liked to read magazines for trendy new styles to try or watch videos online for tutorials.

And today was definitely your lucky day. No case. Everyone is off for the holidays.

Unfortunately, that’s where your luck ended.

You got injured during your last case. Your arm is in a cast, unable to move it around like you wanted it to. Fortunately, your hand was still good & thankfully, uninjured, unlike the rest of your arm. So, although you were free to lounge around your home, you couldn’t try that one hairstyle you found in one of those Cosmopolitan articles.

Until a genius idea came to you like a light bulb turning on.

“Hey, Spence?”

You asked your boyfriend, who was busy skimming through what seemed like his third or fourth book of the day.

He’s so cute when he’s all focused like this, you thought. 

He hummed in response, still couldn’t tear his eyes away from the pages.

“I have a favor to ask you.”

This made Spencer look up from what he was reading, staring at you questioningly. You were the type of person who never asked for help or favors—unless needed. You often disagreed with him because he would prefer it if you told him whatever problem you had. Although he was a genius and could help with you, he knew lending an ear to someone was already a big help. 

"You know I can't move my arm around, right?" You asked him, to which he nodded in agreement. 

"Yeah, is it itchy?” He asked, about to go off on one of his notable tangents. “It takes around six to eight weeks for broken bones in casts to heal. Also, around that time, the injured area starts to itch.”

You nodded fondly at the man, not minding a little bit that he went off-topic. You love listening to his mini-lectures—not only do you learn something new, but you’d also hear the soft tone of his voice. One thing about Spencer is he had a pretty voice. You could listen to him talk for hours.

“There are five main reasons why your casts itch—nerves, trapped moisture, immune response, dead skin cells, and body hair.” Spencer continued tattling. “Nerves cause itchiness because the nerve endings in the skin may fire as the cast begins to harden and dry, sending itch-inducing signals to the brain. As for the itchiness being an immune response, it ensues when the body perceives the plaster of Paris or fiberglass as an outside invader. Histamines may be released. Itching, redness, and swelling can be brought on by released histamine.” 

With his excitement to share facts about how broken bones heal, you couldn’t help but laugh at how dorky but adorable your boyfriend was, which made him scrunch his nose.

“I’m rambling, aren’t I?”

“You are, but I don’t mind. I like it.”

At this, Spencer’s ears started turning pink, making you chuckle some more. He scratched the back of his neck in shyness as you took it as a clue to tell him what you needed from him.

“My arm isn’t itchy, babe,” you began, “What I need from you is your hair.”

“My what?” 

“Your hair.” 

It was your turn to get shy. You knew Spencer wasn’t a big fan of having his hair messed with. It’s not that he hates it. He just doesn’t like messing with it that much—minus the occasional flicking behind his ear and simply tying it back when it gets irritating.

“I—um,” you explained further, trying to fight against the embarrassment you were feeling. This was your boyfriend you’re talking to!  “I saw this cute new hairstyle online and I wanted to try it but you know, with the broken arm and all…” You trailed off.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.” You chuckled humorlessly, beyond embarrassed at this point.

This was such a bad idea. Why did you even bring it up? You were about to start berating yourself, ready to hop onto the next train and create a new identity for yourself, when you noticed Spencer shuffling towards you, sitting on the floor between your legs.

“You want me to style your hair?” You asked incredulously, still can’t believe Spencer would let you play with his hair.

“Of course.” He replied as if it was the most obvious thing in the world 

Like it was an everyday thing for anyone—you—to do his hair.

“I don’t mind my hair being played with if it’s you.”

At that, you blushed as you started combing through his soft curls with your fingers. Spencer merely smiled softly at the gesture and closed his eyes.

“Y/N?” Spencer asked quietly.

“Yeah?” You asked back as you started braiding his hair. “What is it, Spence?”

“I love you.” He muttered. “I may not like it when people touch my hair out of nowhere. But if it’s you, I don’t mind having you do it for the rest of my life.”

You gasped at his sudden confession and were about to say those three words back when you felt it.

Spencer planted a kiss on your injured arm and pulled your other one down, so he could be face-to-face with you. And before you knew it, his lips brushed against yours, eyelashes fluttering against your cheeks.

Maybe styling Spencer’s hair should be an everyday thing for both of you.

#criminal minds #criminal minds series #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid #spencer reid fandom #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid blurb #tooth rotting fluff #domestic fluff #criminal minds fluff #established relationship #long-haired spencer reid #mild hurt/comfort

[slowburningechoes]

bee's spence recommendations ⤵

key: * represents nsfw material always adding to this list! (:

↳ spencer reid

: ̗̀➛ for science* | @luvergirl777

: ̗̀➛ i should’ve worshipped you sooner* | @thyme-in-a-bubble

: ̗̀➛ pretty in purple* II | @radiant-reid

: ̗̀➛ three's a crowd* | @radiant-reid

: ̗̀➛ unbelievable but verified | @radiant-reid

: ̗̀➛ bau boys* | @radiant-reid

: ̗̀➛ exposed* | @fortheloveofwonderland

: ̗̀➛ for no good reason* | @reidslibrarybook

: ̗̀➛ lit by love* | @reidslibrarybook

: ̗̀➛ hands-on learning* | @wrenreid

: ̗̀➛ afterhours* | @samuel-de-champagne-problems

: ̗̀➛ found | @everyonesfavoritepipecleaner

: ̗̀➛ what plot* | @moon-light-jukebox

: ̗̀➛ betting friends* | @baubunny

: ̗̀➛ perverse temptations* | @subspencer

: ̗̀➛ drive me insane* | @etherrealoblivion

: ̗̀➛ losing feelings* | @reidsrevenge

: ̗̀➛ mean* | @spencersawkward

: ̗̀➛ concussions and confessions* | @spencersawkward

: ̗̀➛ keep them on* | @blue-labcoat

: ̗̀➛ if you tell me, i might do it* | @blue-labcoat

: ̗̀➛ good little helper* | @mercy-burning

: ̗̀➛ drunk on you* | @smurphyse

: ̗̀➛ that stupid vest* | @softdoctorreid

my masterlist

requests are closed! ):

#spencer reid #spencer reid masterlist #spencer reid request #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fandom #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds #spencer reid angst #spencer reid series #spencer reid one shot #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds smut #criminal minds x y/n #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds series #criminal minds angst #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x you #criminal minds imagine #slowburningfics #slowburningblurbs