#actually i think they were also the one who wrote the fic where spencer just. is. a tiny lil dragon
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Annotations | Spencer Reid
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Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader
Warnings: Just fluff! & a mention of child trafficking, but hey, what's different in the CM universe?
Author's note: I'm finally writing a season 1 Spencer fic! Wanted to add a bit of Elle in this one 'cause I do miss her! I actually also just love this one... I think it might just be my favorite Spencer Reid fic I've ever written.
Words: 3K
After a well-deserved day off, the BAU team was back at the FBI headquarters, ready to tackle another case. Spencer had enjoyed his Sunday at home, just reading and playing chess all day long, but he was happy to be back at work, too.
He was the first one in the office and decided to head into the breakroom for a nice cup of coffee. As he stirred in his mountain of sugar, he turned and took a seat at the table. The breakroom table was almost completely empty, save from the single book that was on it. Intrigued by the lonely item, Spencer reached for it. ‘Looking for Alaska’ it read on the black cover just above the cartoon of a daisy.
It was a book he hadn’t read yet but after quickly reading the back, he was quite interested to read the whole book. Seeing as Spencer had a little bit of time, which was probably enough for him to finish the entire book, he started reading it whilst enjoying his morning coffee.
As he went through the book, Spencer noticed the annotations in the margins and the highlighted quotes. Something he’d found even more interesting than the book in itself. There was so much you could learn from a person by just reading their margin notes and even their handwriting.
From the handwriting alone, Spencer could tell a lot about the owner of this book. The letters were of average size with a lot of space between them. They even slightly slanted to the right. They were well-adjusted and adaptable, they enjoyed their freedom and didn't like to be overwhelmed or crowded.
Whoever this person was, judging from their notes in this book, they were the smartest and most interesting person ever in his opinion.
“Everyone who wades through time eventually gets dragged out to sea by the undertow.”
They had underlined the quote and wrote “Everybody dies – Death is inevitable” in pink. Spencer fought the urge to write his own thoughts right next to it. This was someone else’s book, not his. He couldn’t ruin this person’s book with his scrawny handwriting.
Besides, his coworkers started to file in and JJ told everyone to gather in the briefing room. He left the book on the table and joined his coworkers on the case instead. Though his mind was preoccupied with the details of the case, it kept going back to the notes in the book.
He didn’t even know who this person was and still, he couldn’t keep them out of his mind. It even got to the point that he got weirdly excited when the book was still there when he returned from the case two days later.
This time around, he decided to write his own thoughts in the margins. They had used a pink pen, which allowed him to use his usual black one that made his notes stand out from theirs. It felt weird writing in someone else’s book, but he felt somewhat of a connection to this person reading through her annotations.
They had gotten halfway through the book, Spencer noticed. The annotations stopped when the ‘AFTER’-part started. Which was where Spencer decided to stop, too. He could read the entire book before their morning briefing, but he didn’t want to spoil the person reading this.
Besides, he secretly hoped the book was there again tomorrow with more notes for him to read.
Luckily for Spencer, the next day he got in, the book was still there. Or, upon further inspection, he found that the book was there again. The person had continued reading and continued annotating. When he went back to the notes he wrote down, he noticed more pink words.
“What’s your Great Perhaps?”
With a soft smile, Spencer grabbed a notepad with the FBI logo imprinted on it before scribbling down the answer to her question. There wasn’t enough space in the margins for all his ramblings, so this was his best option.
Once he was done, he stuffed the A6 page between the book in the right spot before continuing to the next part where new notes in pink lettering had appeared. They had underlined and highlighted a couple of quotes, written down some thoughts.
Spencer actually found her notes more interesting than the book itself.
For days, Spencer spoke to the book’s owner through their notes. At first, it was ‘Looking For Alaska’ for a couple of days. Even though they had already finished the book, they kept communicating through their notes. The next Monday, they had left him ‘Little Women’ by Louisa May Alcot. As they kept going back and forth, they kept changing the book they left. From old classics to poetry books to new releases, the two of them had their very own book club, even if he didn’t even know who this person was.
“What are you doing?” Elle asked when she entered the breakroom where she found Spencer hunched over yet another book.
It had been ten weeks since Spencer had first given his thoughts on Looking For Alaska and now he was reading ‘Something Wicked This Way Comes’. Or, in Spencer’s case, he was re-reading it. It had been Spencer’s favorite book since forever and it made him wonder if she knew that.
“Oh, I’m–” he let out a chuckle. “I-I guess I’m kinda book clubbing with someone I have never seen before.” He looked up to find Elle staring down at him with an amused smile on her face and an eyebrow quirked. Spencer chuckled before turning back to his book. “Yeah, I know how it sounds. But she’s been leaving me books in the breakroom and we’ve been leaving each other notes in the margins.”
“She?” Elle questioned, stirring her milk into her coffee.
A smile befell Spencer’s lips as he tried to hide the obvious red tinge that tinted his cheeks. “Yeah, I learned that her name is y/n a couple of days ago. She’s been writing to me in the margins in a pink pen.”
“Romantic,” Elle wiggled her brows, which didn’t help Spencer’s furious blushing at all. “Have you seen her around? I mean, she must work here, right?”
“I haven’t dared to look her up yet.” His coworker shot him an inquisitive look. “Yeah, I-I guess I’m kinda nervous? I mean– I got this pretty vivid image of her in my mind from her words on the paper and even her handwriting, I guess I’m scared she’s going to transcend my expectations.”
A teasing smirk tugged at Elle’s lips. “You’ve got a crush,” she pointed out.
“Who’s got a crush?” Morgan asked when he and Penelope walked into the breakroom, sending an even deeper red to Spencer’s cheeks.
“No one,” he mumbled before grabbing his book and coffee, and heading back into the bullpen.
The worst thing was that Elle was right. He did have a crush on someone he didn’t even know. He knew her thoughts on every single book that ever existed and he could tell a lot of things from her handwriting and her notes.
No matter who she was or what she looked like, she was already the most beautiful girl in the world to Spencer.
And that scared him.
Especially when he started noticing the books she was leaving him. At first it was ‘The Other Einstein’ then ‘Crime and Punishment’ and lastly, she left him ‘The Color Purple’. When she left him that last book, he knew she knew who he was. She wasn’t scared to look him up and find him.
By week eleven, she started leaving him notes on his desk, too. It surprised Spencer that she hadn’t pushed him to meet. It had come up once, but Spencer got too scared and dodged her question. He thought she would just stop talking to him because he didn’t want to meet, but when the next book came the day after, he knew she respected his decision.
“I think us here to wonder, myself. To wonder. To ask. And that in wondering about the big things and asking about the big things, you learn about the little ones, almost by accident. But you never know nothing more about the big things than you start out with. The more I wonder, the more I love.”
Upon reading the note, Spencer felt the tips of his ears heat up. He started to fall in love with the swoop of her ‘s’ and the way she dotted her ‘i’s and crossed her ‘t’s.
He reread the note a couple of times, each time even better and more beautiful than the last. And each time, he noticed more and more how the pink ink was fading at the very end.
That was when he decided to buy her a new pen. Two even. One with pink ink, the other with purple. He left them in the break room, slotted between his copy of ‘Love: Poems’ but not without underlining his favorite quote in the purple color.
“Does the one who always waits suffer more than the one who has never waited for anyone?”
When Spencer found the book again a couple of days later in the exact same spot he had left it, he wondered if she had found it and read it at all. The disappointment slowly built inside his chest, bracing him for the worst.
But when he opened the book, the pink pen had vanished and underneath the line he’d indicated with the purple pen was her answer.
“So I wait for you like a lonely house till you will see me again and live in me. Til then my windows ache.”
The first five words were underlined twice as well as the last part of the line. She had even drawn little hearts in the margins. Spencer couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across his face. He was probably crazy for thinking this girl felt the same way about him as he did about her. But seeing this, seeing the little hearts, he couldn’t think anything else.
“You seem happy this morning,” Penelope said as she and Elle walked into the breakroom for their own coffees.
Spencer quickly slammed the book shut and looked up at his coworkers. “Yeah, uh… I-I guess.”
The two women in front of him exchanged glances. It was stupid of him to lie to one of the best profilers in the BAU and the woman who thrives on workplace gossip. He knew that, but he couldn’t just come out and tell them he was falling in love with someone he’d never met.
“It’s her, isn’t it? Y/N?” Elle asked, her lips curling up on one side into a smirk.
Penelope’s eyes shimmered at the promise of some new office drama while the two women walked closer towards Spencer to take a look at the book in front of him. Though he held his hand tightly on the item, Penelope and Elle somehow knew how to pry it off and open it, causing the purple pen to fall out and fall on the carpeted floor.
Almost feverishly, Spencer picked it up and dusted off any dirt that had gotten on it.
“She’s drawing hearts,” Elle pointed out.
“Aww!” Penelope cooed. “She’s drawing hearts!” She clutched her chest as though her heart was going to pop out.
Trying to ignore the heat that rose to his cheeks and that probably tinted his skin a bright red, Spencer grinned sheepishly. “What d’you think that means?” he asked, pushing his glasses further up his nose.
“I think she’s into you as much as you are into her,” Penelope commented excitedly, which didn’t do much good for the blush residing on his cheeks.
“You think so?”
Elle scoffed. “Yeah! It’s very clear you guys are into one another. You should ask her out!”
Before Spencer could say anything, Hotch poked his head inside the breakroom. “Who should ask who out?” he asked, having caught just the end of their conversation.
“Spencer and y/n,” Elle replied without batting an eye, much to Spencer’s dismay.
It was one thing some of his coworkers knew, but having his boss know about his little crush. This was even more embarrassing than when Morgan had tackled him in a park in Illinois when they were hunting down an L.D.S.K. and they had to duck before they would get shot.
“Oh, y/n from the third unit?” Hotch asked, immediately capturing the youngest’s attention. He knew her? It surprised him a little that he didn’t know that. Neither did he know that she was in the crimes against children unit, though that part didn’t surprise him that much. “She’s coming in to help us with the case later today. We’ve got a child trafficking case.”
Spencer completely froze up. He was actually going to meet her and it wasn’t even on his own terms. Of course, this was bound to happen, seeing that they worked in the same building. But he’d hoped he could ask her to meet him away from work. When he wanted to.
“Seems like you’re gonna get your chance to ask her out, Romeo,” Elle joked as she smacked the book against his chest, holding it there for a moment until his hands got a hold of it, before passing by him.
Penelope and Elle followed behind Hotch, leaving Spencer in the breakroom. He looked down at the book for a moment. He wasn’t going to have time to underline anything as a message to her, so instead, he drew a quick purple heart right next to the pink one she had drawn. At least then she’d know that he had seen it.
During the briefing, Spencer couldn’t quite concentrate. His mind was a little too focused on the impending meeting. He was incredibly curious to know what she looked like and sounded like and if her perfume did smell of violets the same way her books sometimes did.
“We’ve got the agents of the third unit consulting on this case with us,” Hotch explained to them and the mention of the unit y/n worked at captured Spencer’s attention. “Let’s meet at the SUV’s in ten minutes.”
Hotch concluded the briefing and exited the room, having the others follow behind him. While everyone either went for a quick bathroom stop before leaving or gathered their stuff from their desk, Spencer made a beeline for the breakroom where he was hoping to meet her.
As predicted, there was a girl hunched over the book he had left with a pink pen in her hand, scribbling some of her well-thought notes on the pages, sprinkling a portion of her in his belongings. She clutched her pen, her thumb sticking out ever so slightly. It looked almost childlike, but it was the most adorable thing he'd ever seen.
“You hold your pen funnily,” he pointed out, capturing the girl’s attention straight away.
Though at first, her brows were furrowed at the weird comment, her features quickly softening as her eyes landed on him. “Hi,” she greeted, her face breaking out into a big, toothy grin.
Spencer’s world started spinning. The girl he had been talking to had to be the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen. Her smile, her bright, shimmering eyes, the freckles that were scattered across her nose and cheeks like a constellation… Everything was even more beautiful than he’d imagined. She was even more beautiful than he’d imagined.
He was proven right. She did exceed his expectations in every way possible.
“It always shocked me when I realized that I wasn’t the only person in the world who thought and felt such strange and awful things.” The quote rolled off his lips a little too easily. But it was the first thing that popped into his head once he realized he hadn’t said anything and he was just staring at her.
Y/N’s head tilted slightly, almost in confusion. Then, she stood up and slowly approached Spencer. “At some point, you just pull off the Band-Aid and it hurts, but then it’s over and you’re relieved.”
There was a double entendre to her words. On one hand, she was merely quoting the first book they’d read together, but on the other, she was telling Spencer that them finally meeting was like pulling off a Band-Aid.
Though in this case, it didn’t hurt.
Spencer let out an airy laugh as he looked down at her. She was actually right here. In front of him. He could touch her, if he wanted to. He could smell the hint of the violet perfume she used. He could look into her eyes and actually witness how soulful they were.
“I-I’m sorry it took so long for us to– I didn’t mean a-anything. It’s just–”
She placed a hand on his arm to stop him from stuttering and rambling, and chuckled. “It’s fine, Spencer. I get it. We were sucked up in our own world, communicating through these books… It was hard to break that bubble.”
“Yeah,” Spencer all but whispered. He then grabbed the hand of hers that was still on his arm and squeezed it. “But now we can–we can talk about books in real life?” The statement came out in a question, uncertainty dripping from his tone. “I-I know this really nice bookstore in the city. I-I’d love to take you there sometime.”
Her face lit up at his words. “Are you asking me on a date, Dr. Reid?” she asked.
An awkward chuckle rolled off his lips as he scratched the back of his neck with his free hand, not wanting to let go of her hand just yet. “Yes? I-I mean, if you wanna go. You don’t have to feel like you have to say yes.”
Y/N squeezed his hand right back. “I would love to, Spencer.”
And just like that, their fairytale that started in the margins of her books, sprang to life.
Underlined quotes came out into longing gazes and sweet touches.
Annotations became sweet nothings whispered under the dim light of the bookstore.
The perfect romance you’d only read about in books.
Everything taglist: @calamitykaty @littlemissaddict @n0wornever @wanniiieeee @unnowhatthisistbh
Criminal Minds Taglist:
@boimlers-gonna-boim @samsbirks @tinaasthings @dysphoricsanity @love4lando @elenamoncada-ibarra @r-3dlips @magstheslayer
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sharing my biosnake headcanons/facts heehee
warnings: sex is mentioned but not detailed, slight angst
under the cut:
Resident Evil game universe:
- when they first meet, komi joined before brad and joseph. they also immediately got on wesker's nerves because they straight up told him, "i am not gonna call you 'captain,' i'm going to give you an annoying nickname" and now they only ever call him 'bertie'
- this pisses wesker off because he's being disrespected, but he just ignores it cause komi is adamant about calling him that
- also wesker doesn't know that komi is also from umbrella and was sent to keep an eye on him since umbrella suspects he and birkin are plotting
- eventually as they work together, komi is one of the few people wesker sees as an equal, the other being william birkin (rip blondie)
- wesker actually thinks komi's nicknames for him are cute but is never going to say that out loud
- i headcanon that wesker listens to ABBA and i wrote a oneshot where komi enters his office and they listen to Lay All Your Love On Me together in silence 💜 that is THEIR SONG (so is Everybody Wants To Rule The World by Tears for Fears)
- these two spend a lot of time together and still have no idea who the other person even is
- wesker already knew komi would survive spencer mansion and was planning on working with them at some point anyway since he found them interesting (in the sense that they were mysterious and he got the feeling that there was something about them that wasn't like anyone else he'd ever met) (he was right since komi is... well.)
- and komi overheard wesker and birkin talking about their plans so they just didn't tell anyone cause they were hoping to get closer to wesker (they found him interesting, in turn, and also they enjoy annoying people like him)
- wesker avoided komi during the mansion incident, but after they split up with chris, komi starts following wesker around
- i already wrote a fic about what happened during re1 with komi and wesker though
- before re2, wesker remembers that komi was secretly a umbrella agent but that they didn't stop him because they said "do what you want, i don't care about this world anyway," so he looks for their information and tells ada to look for them
- he didn't realize that he caught feelings for them or maybe he had a feeling that birkin was going to die so he wanted komi to replace him
- komi and ada DO meet during re2 but komi simply isn't interested in whatever wesker wants, for whatever reason
- they reunite sometime between re:cv and re4 and wesker immediately is like, "you should think twice before refusing me" and komi's like "oh hi bertie did you get a haircut?" with the most deadpan face ever
- he convinces them to join him (and komi has an ulterior motive that involves them trying to create human life with science, due to the fact that the last time they did that with magic, it fucked up a literal universe lol)
- komi helps out wesker despite saying that they don't really think what he's doing is morally correct but they just want to see chaos happen
- komi both fuels wesker's ego but also criticizes him in the same breath and wesker will sometimes take it into consideration (that's the most he will do lol komi doesn't intend of fixing him)
- Cat Eyes Wesker and Snake Eyes Komi aaww they're matching 🥺
- speaking of eyes, wesker loves komi's eyes. he can tell that on the surface, they're masking emotions, but deep behind their eyes he can see emptiness. he loves staring into their eyes, wondering what komi could be hiding from him
- also i headcanon wesker having NPD and i've said that komi has ASPD (anti-social), so they probably piss each other off with their behaviors unintentionally
- also with komi's aspd + immortality, they tend to get bored very very easily and will leave on their own little missions w/o telling wesker
- wesker isn't overprotective since he's well aware that komi can take care of themself, and eventually assigns them missions as challenges to see what their limit is (however komi does perfect everytime, but they have fun running errands for him)
- during the re4 era is when the mutual feelings become obvious. komi is still stuck on her past experiences with loving a mortal (at this point in the timeline, it was only robin, also if you want to count sachi i guess but she doesn't count to me). so anyway komi books it and goes to the village that ada was assigned to
- komi is in the background of the re4 plot but later on, wesker himself pops up to retrieve them and he's pissed off
- anyways this leads to them both "confessing" (wesker: never leave my side again, you're mine) (komi: always way)
- komi tries to cherish they time they have together since they're certain that wesker is on the path to his demise (and they're not going to interfere cause they'll get in trouble)
- wesker himself isn't physically affectionate but he accepts all physically affectionate that komi gives him
- instead wesker shows affection in very subtle ways such as putting his coat over komi like a blanket when they're working or packing some extra gear when they need to leave for a mission. he also likes to pet them, and vice versa. sometimes they will lean against him and he'll just start petting them. other times komi will come up behind wesker when he's working on something and they'll start petting him. both of them purr.
- the Sex To Feel Powerful x Sex To Feel Human couple
- also komi tells wesker about their personal project on creating humans, so they combine the research of komi's father (behemo) and of spencer's (who can be seen as wesker's father), and they create jack and jill
- also side note i created jack and jill as ocs for outlast WAAAY before i got into re, but the fact that their names match with jake muller's is sooo cute now that i think about it ☹️
- anyway wesker is a pretty good dad
- jack and jill get their genes from komi and wesker and both are full of progenitor virus, the t-virus, and HERs (hereditary evil raisers syndrome)
- chris blew up a building they were in when they were still blond and in test tubes but they came back as *those things* cause of the t-virus
- but enough on that before i get sidetracked, i can talk about those two in detail another time
- komi likes to dress up their partners so they like to have wesker stay still while they style his hair or have him try on clothes and stuff
- wesker pretends to hate it but he likes how komi will shower him with attention
- wesker sometimes calls them "sweetheart" or "dear" but it comes off very as condescending so he doesn't get any flustered reactions from komi like he intended to
- instead HE gets flustered when komi calls him "captain" or "albert" instead of "bertie" or their usual nicknames for him (oohh he LOVES when they call him captain)
- since komi basically never sleeps and wesker is constantly working, they rarely ever get to sleep together. but when they do, they just cuddle in silence, maybe with ABBA playing in the background 💜
- komi (at this point in their life) is afraid of saying "i love you" due to their anxiety about wesker dying before them, and wesker doesn't feel the need to say "i love you" because of his upbringing
- however in the really rare moments when they're alone together, they will utter the words and seal it with a gentle kiss
- anyways wesker is very possessive (not 24/7 however, since he mainly likes to be alone, but when he hasn't seen komi in more than a few days, he starts seeing red)
- wesker really likes causing problems so if he's jealous that komi is spending too much time with someone, he probably tells komi lies about them so they'll stay away from the person (however that doesn't really work since komi can sniff out lies very well, i mean they've been doing it for thousands of years)
- so when that fails wesker just threatens the other person to stay away from komi
- he also tries to make them jealous but it never works since "jealousy" and "komi" don't go together. as a result of wesker acting out like that, he now has to deal with excella being overly clingy to him
- when excella is getting on wesker's nerves and he sees komi walking by he just pulls them over and makes out with them before leaving the room, not saying a single word (which leaves both excella and komi in shock)
- i could talk about nsfw stuff but hm maybe a part two idk anyway
- i haven't played re5 YET so i don't have a graps on excella's personality outside the cutscenes i've watched, but i think she'd be really mean towards komi. like petty mean and rude but komi never reacts to this and instead they're either neutral or overly nice to excella which confuses her
- update from the future after playing re5 like four times: excella dislike and respects komi and sees them as a rival but can't do anything about it because wesker and komi are engaged and also komi doesn't react the way excella wants them to, so she just settles with giving them sass every now and then
- with the uroboros nonsense, komi's anxiety about wesker being on the path to his demise is at it's peak and it causes some distance between the two (also with him brainwashing jill and making her blonde, komi is more than upset with him)
- i actually think wesker has been so unnerved about learning about his orgins that it just drives him down a dark path mentally
- wesker, you've gone senile!
- given komi's circumstances about how they were given life (a long story), they sympathize with wesker but know that they can't help him because they're not allowed to interfere, so they have to be silent and watch his slow spiral into insanity
- before wesker went to fight chris and sheva, komi and wesker had an argument about human life (komi sees humans as something beautiful, but wesker sees them as weak), and it ended with komi saying "we'll talk about this later" as they took a private jet to leave
- after re5, komi is actually very upset about wesker's death since this is actually second time (in komi's life, not kari or kaori's) ever that komi had to watch their lover die (first was with robin)
- when chris has to tell komi what happened to wesker, they're angry. they're heartbroken. but as much as they wanted to, they didn't take it out on chris because komi knew that this was going to happen eventually.
- komi makes a grave for wesker and visits it often to mourn. the remaining S.T.A.R.S members will come by sometimes, too, mainly chris and jill.
- i COULD talk about komi meeting alex or jake but i remember literally nothing about what happened in re6 so
- anyways komi actually ends up leaving the re universe and moves onto another one (which is the outlast universe)
and now, for the Dead by Daylight universe
- komi first sees wesker chasing chris in a trial and immediately runs up to him (crying) and hugs him
- and this wesker doesn't know that he died (he was taken a while way before that happened) and he's very confused as to why komi's acting so weird
- no one in the resident evil cast tells wesker that he died either so he's confused why everyone is looking at him funny
- of course wesker doesn't hold back on komi during trials, he knows they'll be fine (also he's a freak and enjoys hunting them)
- he does take it personally when they stun or blind him
- komi's a lot more clingy (and unhinged actually) so wesker enjoys seeing this new side to them (since he's used to them having a 😐 face and being passive aggressive, sarcastic, or having dry humor)
- like komi's other killer lovers, they love to torment wesker during trials (and getting punished for being naughty)
- oh yeah for those who don't know the Komi Lore (cause i don't use tumblr), komi is polyamorous and is in a relationship with ji-woon (trickster) and amanda (pig) during the dbd era (and those two get along surprisingly well and it's cute)
- okay after giving the context: amanda and ji-woon do NOT like wesker and vise versa lmao. like when komi explained the situation to them both, they looked at wesker and then back at komi and said "HIM?"
- wesker asked komi why they bothered to associate themself with "these pathetic creatures" and komi just tugged on him and said "bertie be nice!! ☹️"
- the one thing they all have in common is their love for komi and so they get competitive when it comes to having their partner's affection (it's a damn 2 v 1 in here)
- but they all also like seeing komi happy so they've made a truce (for the time being) but wesker shoots glares at ji-woon and amanda when they're not looking (and vice versa)
okay that's it um yeah i'm cringe
#oliverddp#oc x canon#original character#albert wesker#biosnake#self insert#self ship#selfshipping#ship headcanons
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the nickname
Summary: reader convinced spencer to let her take the reins in the bedroom... or does she?
TW: oral (male recieving), fingering, mention of overstimulation, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, penetrative sex, riding, scratching, use of nicknames (princess, love, etc.), hints at sugar daddy!spencer, age gap (not specified but i’m thinking around 10-15 years). *let me know if i missed anything*
WC: 2,912
A/N: this hinted at sugar daddy!spencer (not really hinted so much as saying it outright). I also wrote this for @anxiousblanketqueen ‘s fic contest for her birthday! i believe it’s prompt number 21. i hope you enjoy :)
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you had been together for a while, now. maybe 13 months? you bet spencer could recall - more like knew he could.
you had met when you were one of his students. you're going to georgetown on an academic scholarship because no way in hell could you pay for the full tuition when you still couldn't afford it with the scholarships.
he took a liking to you - how could he not? you were a hard worker and proved yourself to be extremely determined. on top of the obvious intelligence, you had a beauty that radiated around you. and that beauty had a touch of... innocence. and maybe that innocent beauty is what initially attracted him to you, but he'd like to think it was just your personality as a whole.
you were never one of the students who would come to his office after hours for help you clearly didn't need. you would use your colored pens and highlighters to help organize your notes, so it took a while to pack everything up to leave.
one day, when there weren't any students lined up out his door, he went to your seat as you were cleaning up. you looked up, rather surprised that your inappropriate crush was standing right by you.
"uhm... hi," you smiled at him as you put your pencil pouch in your bag, breaking eye contact for the briefest of seconds before returning your attention back to him.
"hi. i was uhm..." he cleared his throat, "i was wondering if you had any questions? you never come to the office hours for questions and i was just... just making sure," he stuttered out.
"oh," you chuckled a light, airy laugh that spencer wished he had recorded so he could replay it over and over and over. "i don't have any questions. i guess that just means that you're a really good professor - very thorough," you stood up and flung the bag over your shoulder, still incredibly shorter than him.
"than-thank you," he smiled. "i'm happy to hear that you're actually getting something out of the lessons," you began walking out of the classroom, looking back to ensure that he was following you.
"yes, i truly do," you agreed. "i'm also pretty sure i'm one of the other people who isn't auditing the class," you added.
"correct, you are," he enthusiastically gestured, another laugh leaving your beautiful lips.
"i mean, you can't necessarily blame them for just taking the class," you chuckled as he held the door open for you, you gave him a subtle 'thank you.'
"what do you mean?" he asked in a soft tone.
"i mean you- you're..." you trailed off, gesturing to his entire body in hopes to convey what you meant. he just looked at you with a confused taste, letting you know you needed to elaborate. "you're very... attractive, professor reid."
"oh-that's very... thank you," he blushed as you halted by the bus stop.
"of course," you turned around, looking up to meet his eyes. "so... wait, what time is it?" you asked rather frantically.
"it's," he looked at his silver watch adorning his wrist, "6:27."
"shit," you swore for the first time in front of him, underneath your breath.
"wha-what is it?" he asked, perplexed as to why you would be so frustrated.
"the last bus leaves at 6:15 and i've missed it," you huffed out, trying to compose yourself before checking your bag and realizing, "i forgot my key and my roommate is at her girlfriend's house."
"is there anything i could do?" he asked concerned.
"no i can... i can just stay at the library. i should probably study up anyway," you tried to laugh it off although you knew it was pointless... he was a profiler for christ's sake.
"the library? y/n, this might seem a bit inappropriate but i have a spare room you could stay in until your roommate gets back," he offered kindly.
so, you took him up on his offer.
you slept in his spare room after he got you both takeout. you laughed and talked for what seemed like meer minutes but turned out to be until 1 a.m. you talked about string theory and the leonard euler's paradox. he gave you interesting facts about tortoises and achilles.
that little hangout session turned into countless hangouts over the span of three months. and then he asked you out on a real date once you finished at the top of his class - and not just because you were his favorite.
the first time with spencer was... beyond delightful. he was captivating with the way he worked against and for your body. it was almost as if he felt like his sole purpose on earth was to please you. he was eager, yet patient with the way his tongue flicked and sucked at your skin.
he was such a dominant personality in the bedroom, which was extremely appreciated since you didn't have much experience in that arena. but now that you were more versed in that world, you wanted to experiment a bit more.
casually, he began to pay for your things. it wasn't so head-on at first. it would be paying for your groceries, or buying all of your college books for you. but then it got a bit bigger. when your roommate couldn't give you the necessary half of the rent that was due and was beginning to be a nuisance, spencer quite literally let you move into his place. he would pay for your car's repairs and bought you jewelry consistently.
one time, as a joke, you called him your sugar daddy - mostly because that's how he acted. he just didn't like the term. he felt as though it made your relationship together seem one-sided when you were, in fact, very in love with the man. you came to realize it also made you seem like a gold digger, which you weren't - even though the money is a nice plus. so, you relented and didn't say that again.
spencer never really had much time off now that he was working back at the bau and traveling but now, you had him to yourself for a whole week. you had been planning this since he told you when he'd be off.
step 1: look sexy - you always looked sexy to him, but feeling sexy would also be a plus.
step 2: surprise him while looking sexy - absolutely devious.
step 3: seduce him - when doesn't he want you? exactly.
it was foolproof.
you had gotten the text 15 minutes ago that spencer was on his way back to his place, wanting you to meet him there once he had settled in. little did he know that you were in a sexy little white number - the white reminded him of your innocence which really got him going - lying in wait for him in a pair of heels. you sat in one of his reading chairs, deciding to pick up a book until he got home.
when you heard the jingling of keys coming from the other side of the door, you assumed your position. the chair was turned toward the door, you sitting pretty with one leg crossed over the other.
spencer walked through the door, hanging his coat and briefcase up before finally noticing you. his eyebrows shot up, looking your body up and down hungrily.
"wow," he smiled a wicked grin as he slowly made his way to where you were sitting. you stood up, heels clicking as they hit the floor and walked closer to him.
"i wanna try something," you placed your hands on his chest, pushing him back slightly until he was forced to sit down on the couch.
"and what would that be, princess?" he asked, hands stroking your hair that was cascading down your back.
"i..." you bent down to whisper in his ear, "i want to be in charge tonight," you placed a soft kiss below his earlobe, feeling his body shudder subtly at the proposition.
"are you sure you can handle that?" he chuckled, hands roaming to your waist and grinding your hips down on his.
you almost gave up. almost. you grasped his hands, placing them on the arm of the couch before getting close to his face. your lips were almost touching before you whispered, "no touching today, pretty boy."
you felt his hips rut up against your core, you chuckled at his eagerness. you decided to throw him a bone and ground down, hard, against his hips. the groan he let out was low and enticing, nearly enough to allow you to give him whatever he wanted.
"bedroom," you whispered against his neck before getting off of his lap, allowing him to scurry to the room. "take off your clothes while you're at it!" you giggled under your breath as you heard his clothes shuffling, telling you that he was obeying your request.
you waited a couple of minutes until you went into the room, wanting to have him go a bit insane like he normally did to you. when you walked in, he was laying on his back on the bed, just like you wanted. his cock was already red and leaky, prominent as it bounced on his tummy.
"good boy, spence," you giggled, walking over to him and straddling his legs.
once you were settled, you pressed a chaste kiss to his lips before trailing them down his torso, leaving the occasional hickey scattered on his chest. traveling kisses down his happy trail, you traced the vein on his dick and watched it twitch up and hit his stomach once again you giggled at the reaction.
"now i understand why you like so much responsiveness," you chuckled as you pressed a soft, barely-there kiss to the tip of his cock, he hissed once again from the contact.
you slowly took his cock in your mouth, agonizingly slow, and flattened your tongue at the base. one you got him as far down you could manage, you began bobbing your head just as slow. his hands flew to your hair, trying to force you to go faster until you swatted them away.
"should i tie those up?" you threatened, your hand working at his member as you spoke.
"are you fucking kidding me?" he swore, clearly agitated by your antics.
"no," you squeezed his dick for punctuation, the way he grunted made the wetness pool in your underwear. "i'm not kidding you."
you took him in your mouth once more, bobbing your head far more vigorously than before this time, just to spite him. hollowing your cheeks, you swallowed around him and began gagging around his dick before coming back up for air.
"fuck," he whispered underneath his breath, not wanting to let you know just how much of an effect you had on him.
you smiled to yourself and continued your antics until he was spilling all down your throat. you didn't stop there, you came back up and let your hand continue pumping his member slowly.
"shit," he hissed from the stimulation.
"shhh," you put your free finger up to his lips.
you gave his dick a few more strokes, curses leaving his lips delightfully before you drew your hands up his body once more before straddling his lap. after moving your panties to the side and slicking his cock with your arousal, you ground against him leisurely, trying to tease him a bit more. you unclasped your bra, throwing it somewhere in the room. finally, you reached between the two of you and lined him up with your entrance.
"are you sure you can do this?" spencer asked, not to entice you, but to make sure you were alright.
"there's a first for everything," you chuckled, knowing you had never been on top before.
you had never been on top before - you'd like to blame your lack of experience. you knew it might be hard to keep up the pace, but you were determined to make not only yourself but also make spencer feel good. that's all you've ever wanted. that's what you're meant to do - make him feel good. so no matter what it took, you'd make it happen.
you slowly lowered yourself onto his dick, being wary of how much bigger he felt from the new angle.
"shit," you whispered, your hands resting on his chest in attempt to ground yourself. "oh god..." you trailed off, feeling your dominant personality fade away as the pleasure overtook you.
"keep going, princess," he spurred you on, his hands finding your waist and rubbing gentle circles on your skin. "you've got it."
so you rose on your knees until only his tip was inside of you for you to lower yourself once more. you whimpered from the feeling of him re-entering your body, your pussy clenching around him as if he were an intruder.
"doing so good for me," he grasped your waist a bit tighter so he could help you rise and fall on his cock. "fuck, it's so good."
"d-doctor, i-" you stuttered, the persona nearly entirely gone and nowhere to be seen as he continued to move you up and down.
when you learn forward, your face hovering over spencer's chest, he took the opportunity to wrap his arms entirely around your waist. before you knew it, he was slamming his length into your pussy over and over and over and over again.
"oh! oh my god," you moaned, your voice reaching a higher octave as he drilled into your body in the most pleasurable way imaginable. "don't stop! don't stop! ple-please!" you screamed out, your hands wrapping around his torso and squeezing his body to ensure that he was there - present.
"i won't, princess. just let go. let go for me," he pressed a kiss to the top of your head so sweetly in contrast to how he was fucking you.
"i'm cumming! oh god, i'm cumming, spencer!" you cried out as you released the tension from inside of you.
only spencer wasn't done yet, so he took himself out of you, and he placed you on your back before reentering you. he moved in and out of you at a godly pace, trying to get himself to his climax before you would become too overwhelmed from the overstimulation.
"spen- spencer," you scratched at his back, surely leaving red marks for him to ogle once you were through. "i-i'm close," you sucked lightly at his earlobe before he moved his hand between the two of you, circling the little bundle of nerves at your crest.
"my little insatiable bunny, huh?" he smiled as you whimpered into his ear, nearing your second release. "loves my cock a bit too much, huh?"
"please! fuck!" you shouted out as you came on his dick, pulling at his hair. the clenching and fluttering of your pussy finally sending him over the edge, his hot release flooding your insides.
"fuck," he groaned into your ear as he carried the two of you through your releases. "good job, princess," he pressed a kiss to your neck as you stroked his hair, playing with it as you were still coming down.
"i'm sorry," you frowned once he pulled out, finally making eye contact as he lay down beside you.
"what for?" he asked incredulously.
"i just... i wanted to make you proud and i couldn't even finish without your help," you explained in a whiney manner, not allowing yourself to meet his beautiful eyes.
"hey," he grasped your chin to force you to make eye contact. "i love it when i have to help you reach that high. that's not something to be embarrassed or upset about."
"i know but i wanted to ride you and i couldn't even do that," you rolled your eyes.
"it takes time to get used to doing that," he chuckled. "and besides, riding someone on the bed is never a good way to begin. the couch is always better - that way you have the back of it to hold onto."
"really? so it's not that i'm just terrible at being a top?" your eyes widened with hope, he smiled at your eagerness.
"i think you could be a switch but it needs a bit of work, my love," he brushed your hair behind your ear before seeing your disappointed gaze and adding, "but i'll bet that with enough practice i could start calling you my little bunny, yea?"
"really?" you perked up at the proposition. "i want you to call me that."
"well then, i guess we better start practicing," he grinned before leaning in and giving you a sloppy kiss, his hands flying to your waist as he stood the both of you up to go to the couch.
needless to say, with spencer's guidance you were able to master the art of riding him. and you got that special little nickname, too.
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#jtr23#spencer reid smut#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid#sugar daddy!spencer#spencer smut#spencer reid fluff#professor reid
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Can you please write a blurb of Virgin!reader and professor Reid w an innocence kink 🤭 btw I love your writing sm💜
The vibes: here here and here
I’ve written this as more of a dom!Spencer vibe!
I accidentally wrote a fic instead of a blurb my bad!
I hope y’all enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it!
— —
You both knew what your were doing when you showed up to his office that day.
You may have been inexperienced but no one could miss the way he looked at you. The way his eyes lingered on your legs whenever you sat in the front row of his class. Or how he’d always need to talk to you about something or other after a lecture.
You noticed that he’d trip over his words on the days that you wore a little skirt. Crossing and uncrossing your legs whenever he looked towards you.
So that’s exactly what you wore to his office hours today. Knocking gently on his door. When he opens his door he can barely hide his shocked expression. Stifling it immediately and hardening his face, ushering you inside.
You were there under the guise of getting an assignment back, but you both had other plans. Neither of you speak once the door is closed, silently standing in front of one another. He’s the one that makes the first move, diving in and crashing his lips against yours, rough and hungry. His mouth is open almost instantly, his tongue moving against yours, tasting every inch of you. His hands are braced either side of your face, fisting in your hair and pulling ever so slightly.
When you break apart you’re both panting, chests heaving, lips swollen.
“I’ve wanted to do that for so fucking long” he breathes, lips turning up in a devious smile, “You’ve got no idea what you do to me” he finshes. His hands snaking down to your waist, lingering there before sliding down to your hips, resting just above your ass.
“I’ve got some idea” you look up at him, biting your bottom lip, fluttering your eyelashes.
“Oh yeah?” He teases, “Is that why you wore this tiny little skirt?” His hands move down now, palming at the curve of your ass over the fabric.
You nod, letting out a small gasp as he grabs you roughly.
“The things I’ve thought about doing to you in this little skirt” he groans against your ear as he leans in, and you can’t help but let out a low moan as his hands finally pull up the fabric and make contact with the skin of your bare ass over your panties. Digging his fingers in harshly and pulling you in closer with that grip.
As his lips meet your neck, leaving a trail of sloppy kisses you finally bring yourself to speak.
“I want you so bad Dr. Reid” you whimper, and his nails only dig in harsher.
“Fuck” he moans and lets go of you, “Sit on my desk now” he commands and you rush over, sitting yourself on the edge of the huge wooden desk.
He joins you a second later, nestling between your legs, his hands are on you right away, landing on the outside of your thighs where your skirt has ridden up. Sinking his nails in and pulling you closer to him.
When you let out a little whimper his hands trail down in between your thighs, grazing over the wet spot on your panties, pushing his fingertips against the fabric with the lightest pressure.
“Is somebody wet for me?” He growls against your ear and you nod, the feeling between your legs too overwhelming already
“Do you want my cock sweetheart?” He asks, and you’re not sure where you thought this was going to end up but you freeze just a little. And he can tell, pulling back when he can sense your hesitation.
“What’s wrong?” He rushes out, “We can stop if you want I just thought you wanted this?” he looks flustered and you want to put him at ease. This is what you wanted, more than anything but you felt like you should tell him.
“I do— it is! I just haven’t— I’m a virgin Dr. Reid” you don’t look at him as you speak. Just a little shy but mostly terrified that this will put him off, that he’d just want to someone more experienced and reject you.
“So you do want my cock?” He just says, in the same sultry tone as before, and it shocks you just a little.
“So you don’t mind? You— Did you hear me?” Your hands hold his shoulders for a second looking up into his eyes, and they’re soft, but there’s also a fire behind them.
“I heard you sweetheart, you’re a virgin?” He asks for reassurance and you nod, “No one else has been inside this pretty little pussy?” He asks again, this time his hands come back down between your legs. Pulling the crotch of your panties to the side and grazing between your folds.
“No one” you gasp out, and he nods.
“Good, no ones fingers? No ones tongue?” He’s just teasing you now, moaning the questions right into your ear and his fingers work against you.
“No!” You yelp, “just my— ah!— just my fingers”
He must like that answer because his fingers that had been trailing around find your entrance, two of them pushing in slowly, forcing a moan from deep in your throat. Your hands that are still firmly on his shoulders dig in, your nails would leave marks if it weren’t for his shirt.
“That’s a good girl, nice and wet. For such a tight little cunt you take my fingers so well.” He starts to pump them in and out, faster, deeper, until you’re squirming around them. Leaning your head forward you stifle your moans against your professors chest, muffling them with the fabric of his shirt as you cum.
“So responsive” he chuckles, “took me no time at all” he teases, pulling you off of him so he can look at your face, your red rimmed eyes and your swollen lips. Just a hint of your mascara was falling down already, no doubt some of it stained his shirt right now.
“Do you think you’re ready for me now sweetheart?” He asks, already unbuckling his pants.
“Please sir, I want it so bad.” You whine, and it sounds positively pathetic.
“What do you want?” He asks, pushing down his pants leaving him in his briefs. And you can see the outline of him through the thin fabric. And the little stain where he was leaking from the tip.
“I want you sir” you pout, but that doesn’t seem like the answer he was looking for.
“Nope, try again” he starts to palm himself over his briefs, letting out little groans.
“I want your cock sir?” You ask and he smirks, nodding just a little.
“And where do you want it sweetheart?” He moans.
“I want it inside me! I want it deep in my pussy” you were getting the hang of this. And watching the way the filthy words tumbled from your sweet innocent lips does something to him. So he lunges at you, gripping you by the back of the neck and pulling you in for rough kiss.
When he pulls back you’re both gasping.
“Get up and bend over the desk” he breathes, and you do right away. Hopping up to turn around and lay your chest and stomach against the wooden desk.
He grips you by your hips, positioning you exactly where he wants you and then his hands come to the hem of your skirt, flipping it up to expose your ass to him. He hooks his fingers in your panties, pulling them down and off your legs, placing sloppy kisses on the back of your thighs as he pulls them off.
When you hear him pull down his own briefs you can almost feel the rush between your legs. The excitement, the anticipation.
“Are you on any protection?” He asks, as you hear him rummaging in one of his desk drawers. But you’d wanted this for so long you’d thought ahead.
“I’m on the pill Dr. Reid. I wanted it to be you, wanted you inside me. Wanted all of you inside me”
“Fuck” he moans out, his hands coming back to rest on your hips. And then you feel it.
The tip of his cock running through your folds mixing both of your arousals together, gently nudging against your still sensitive clit.
He lines right up against your entrance and moves in so teasingly slow. The stretch is enough to make your hands fly out and grip the edges of the desk, digging your nails into the wood.
“Oh god! Dr. Reid! Feels so— big” you moan out, not caring who can hear from the hall.
“Your little virgin pussy is so tight” he groans, “Bet you’ve never felt this full before”
“No! My fingers— uh! They’re nothing like this” you’re whimpering as he starts to move. Pushing his way so deep inside of you before pulling out almost completely, then slamming his hips back into you. Forcing your own hips into the desk.
“And they’re never gonna be good enough again” he huffs as he thrusts in and out, “now that you’ve had me”
You think he might actually be right, the way he fills you up, hitting up against something inside of you that you hardly knew was there till now, you know you’d never be able to make yourself feel this good.
“Fuck! So— uh, so good sir” you’re almost crying now, the combination of both orgasms hitting you, overwhelming you.
“You gonna cum for me? You gonna come for me again sweetheart?” he’s moaning it out but his breaths are harsh and heavy, and he seems like he might be close too.
“Mmhmm” you whimper, feeling a small few tears as they finally escape down your cheeks, “please—fuck! Please cum inside me! I’m yours” you cry out before you’re shaking around him, your hands braced against the edges of the desk, tears flowing now from the overwhelming feeling.
“That’s my good girl” he mutters, panting as he’s about to break himself. And then he’s spilling inside you, it’s warm and so deep inside of you that you didn’t realize you could feel quite this full. This content.
He takes a few moments before he’s pulling out of you, his hands releasing from your hips where they felt like they’d been stuck there.
When he pulls out you the feel the sense of emptiness almost instantly. He takes some time to clean himself up, pulling his clothes back on, all the time whispering sweet words to you.
“Are you okay sweetheart?” He asks pulling you up off the desk and turning you around to face him. His eyes are soft and sweet, and maybe a little concerned even, “Did I go to hard on you?” He asks as his hand comes up to cup your jaw gently, holding your cheek in his hand.
“I’m good” you breath out, still a little shaky, “better than good” you smile up at him, reaching up to place a soft kiss on his lips.
“Would you want to do that again sometime?” He asks, his confidence returning quickly. And you can’t help but nod profusely.
“Yes!” You blurt out before reigning it in, “I mean, if you want to, I’d be, um, I’d be up for that”
His smiles wide at you before his thumbs come up to graze your cheeks, wiping away the tears and the mascara stains there.
“Better to have you all nice and clean, don’t want anyone knowing what happened in here” he says in a low voice, and it makes you a little eager to go again.
“I’ve got a meeting in 5 minutes, you should probably get going but here” he writes something on a piece of paper and hands it to you, “here’s my number, my personal number. Call me tonight?” He almost seems a little nervous, until you take it with a grin, stuffing it in the pocket of your shirt.
As you turn to leave you remember something.
“Dr. Reid? Could I get my panties back?” You ask with a little giggle but he shakes his head.
“I’m afraid I have to confiscate them” he says it like it’s a joke before leaning in next to your ear.
“We don’t want anyone knowing what happened in here except for you and me. I want you to feel me between your legs in your next class”
He pulls back then, letting you walk away as you can feel his cum slowly start to drip out, sliding down the inside of your thighs.
#Spencer Reid smut#mgg smut#Matthew gray gubler smut#criminal minds smut#spencer reid x reader#Spencer Reid x reader smut#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid#professor!spencer#professor!spencerreid#prof!spencer#professor spencer reid#dom!spencer reid#dom!spencer#spencer reid x virgin!reader#dom!spencer x virgin!reader#Spencer Reid blurb#spencer reid imagine#blurb#blurbs#imagine#concept
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I’ve Got You
Part of Mercy’s 1k Celebration: A collection of Spencer Reid x Reader requests to celebrate 1,000 followers.
Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader
Summary: An embarrassed Reader accepts a swimming lesson from Spencer
Category: FLUFF / SMUT ending (will be specified before it splits)
Warnings: Language, fluffy smut at the end
Word Count: 5.5k
Full Request: “...For your 1k celebration, I was wondering if you could write a fic where Spencer teaches reader how to swim, and then smut happens? Congratulations for 1k btw 🥰!” — @jareauswifey
***EDITED: 7/23/2021***
MASTERLIST | 1K MASTERLIST
NOTE: Fun fact: I don’t know how to swim either, so this was incredibly fun to write and I can’t wait for you guys to read it!
Also, the more I wrote this the more it became absolutely fluffy, but since there was a request for smut, I wrote it in as an extra ending. So the majority of this is still fluffy, and there’s a good, solid end for those who don’t/can’t read smut. But the smut is added at the end for those who want it. Totally up to you! I hope y’all really enjoy this one!!
***
"Wait, she dragged you into the pool?"
"She didn't... drag me, she pulled me in."
"Look, no matter how you say it, Pretty Boy, the fact of the matter is, you ended up making out with a movie star in her pool. I call that a win."
While everyone in the bullpen was laughing, you found yourself distanced from the conversation, definitely not thrilled about the idea of re-living the case you'd just worked. And you loved Garcia as much as the next person, but this was one of those times you wished she wasn't so adamantly curious about everyone's personal lives.
"Look, it's not even a big deal, okay, people... kiss each other in pools all the time," Reid got out quickly, also not very thrilled about this conversation. "I mean, you've all done it, right?"
Garcia, Morgan, Elle, and JJ all recounted quickly a few times they'd experienced it, and you were hoping desperately that they wouldn't ask you, since you'd stayed quiet pretty much the whole time, immersing yourself in paperwork (or so you made them believe; you were really just trying not to think about how sad this whole situation made you).
But, of course, it was not your week.
"What about you, Y/N?" Garcia asked. You looked up to see all of your friends looking at you expectantly, and you felt like you could have cried right then and there.
"O—oh, um... I haven't... done that before."
You wanted to smack the smile off Morgan's face when he said, "Oh, so you're telling me Pretty Boy's got Pretty Girl beat in something for once?"
"That's... That's not true, he beats me at everything," you countered, already feeling your face get warm. "Look, it isn't a big deal. It's just not something I've ever done before, and there's nothing wrong with that."
"Never said there was... Why are you getting so defensive?"
The teasing tone in his voice made everything worse, especially since he knew about your huge crush on Reid. He was the first one to point it out, and you swore him to secrecy. And now, he was threatening to expose you, and you wanted to tackle him, even though you were positive you wouldn't get very far.
"I'm not defensive! I just... I haven't kissed anyone in a pool before, and Reid's right, you guys are acting like it's a big deal when it isn't, that's all."
"Well, how come?" Morgan pressed.
"How come it's not a big deal?"
"No, how come you haven't done it?"
That settled it. You were going to deck him in the face the first chance you got.
"Because... I... I can't swim."
You'd said it so quietly, completely embarrassed over the fact, but everyone still was able to hear you.
"You can't?" Elle asked, obviously amused.
"No," you stated firmly, crossing your arms and huffing, a strand of your hair blowing away from your face as you did so. "Before you ask why, I just always had other things to do growing up, and I never bothered to learn. And there's nothing wrong with that either, by the way."
You refused to look at your friends as they took in all this information about you, and by this point you couldn't wait to go home. In fact, you were thinking about leaving right now, to save yourself from further embarrassment.
But then, of freaking course, Derek Morgan had to say something.
"Hey, maybe Reid could teach you how."
The second you were alone with him, he was dead meat.
Your face was even warmer now, and you wanted nothing more than to hide, maybe under the desk, though perhaps a hole in the ground in the middle of nowhere sounded more satisfying. Hell, anything sounded more satisfying than being here right now.
"Ha-ha," you laughed instead, trying to play it off like a joke-suggestion. "I'm sure Reid has better things to do with his time than teaching a woman in her twenties how to swim."
"Are you kidding me, Reid never has anything better to do with his time," Morgan countered, earning a few chuckles from the room.
You rolled your eyes and started to gather your things. You were going to decline and say goodnight, but before you could someone spoke up.
"I—if it's something you really wanted to learn, I could... I wouldn't mind teaching you the basics... or something."
As much as you didn't want to look at Reid in that moment, you did it anyway, because you had to make sure he was being serious. To make sure you'd heard that right.
"What?" you asked quietly.
"Well... You are always saying how we should hang out more. Maybe... it would be a good idea?"
You had said that. But that was before. You know, when you were starting to grow your confidence around him. When you were finally starting to grow the guts to ask him out on a date. Before he started kissing movie stars in pools...
Now all that confidence had been shattered, and you felt smaller than you'd ever been, embarrassed and incredibly babied at your inability to fucking swim.
All of this should have nudged you to say, "no". It should have saved you from making any rash decisions, but...
The way Reid was looking at you, so genuine in that kind way of his, you could have sworn he was begging you to say, "yes".
Or maybe that was your crush talking.
Whatever the case, it was that stupid crush that pushed all reason out of your brain and made you agree.
"O—okay. Why not?"
Your friends clapped, Reid smiled at you, and you could practically feel Morgan's burning Gotcha! look all the way from the other side of the room.
What were you getting yourself into?
***
You almost thought about bailing. There was no way you were going to survive this! Not only was it embarrassing enough that you couldn't swim, but now the guy you have the biggest crush on was going to teach you how? You were going to have to see him, wet, and he was going to have to see you in a swimsuit, and he was probably going to touch you, too.
Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck—
You were about to call Reid and tell him you weren't feeling well, but just as you got out your phone, he showed up in front of you, walking into the pool room at the hotel you were staying at for the weekend. Neither of you had a pool, and to avoid further embarrassment on your part, he offered to rent a room for the weekend so you could use the pool when no one else would be there. In theory it was a good idea, but in actuality it was an awful idea, because now not only did you have to take swimming lessons from your crush, but you were sharing a room with him for the weekend as well.
It was your worst nightmare.
"Hey! I—I got here a little earlier than planned, so I wasn't gonna wait here that long, and I... Never mind. I'm sorry. Hello." Great, now I'm rambling... Good start, Y/N...
Reid laughed a little, setting down a bag. "Hi, Y/N. Are you still sure you want to do this? I know... I kind of pushed it on you last minute, and—"
"No! I'm... It's probably something I should learn at some point anyway... Better get it done now while I can, right?"
"Yeah, I suppose you're right. So, uh... You want to get started?"
You turned to the pool, gesturing with your arms. "Lead the way, Genius."
He laughed a little and made his way to the water, and you took a deep breath as you followed behind, hoping you wouldn't make a bigger fool of yourself than you already had.
Reminding yourself to breathe and stay cool, you reluctantly and very slowly made your way into the water, staying close to the edges even though you were tall enough to stand with the water sitting safely at your chest. You'd been in pools before, but always just like this, at the edge. Your friends growing up were always supportive in your decision not to do anything more, even though they'd offered multiple times to teach you, but the truth was that you were quite afraid of being in deep water.
You were never going to tell them that, though. You weren't even sure you wanted to tell Spencer. But you supposed that if he was really going to teach you how to swim, you'd have to come clean.
Just... Not right now.
"Hmm... Okay, so I'm thinking for now I should teach you how to float."
Shit.
"Um... O—kay..."
He could tell you were nervous, it was obvious by the sympathetic way he looked at you and tilted his head. "I know it's probably intimidating because you don't know how to swim, but floating is actually pretty easy."
He then proceeded to lean back and float on his back. His head was tilted so he could still look at you, and he looked serene. Calm. And supportive, as he said, "There's nothing to it, all you have to do is lean back and just let your body relax. It might feel like you're starting to sink a little, but you won't."
"WhywouldyoutellmethatohmyGod," you squeaked, leaning out and holding very tightly to the edge of the pool. The panic you outwardly exuded was just about the most embarrassing thing you could have done, and it only made you feel worse, shutting your eyes tightly and regretting every life choice youd ever made.
Reid was suddenly beside you, laying a gentle hand on your shoulder, and you jumped, making him retreat. "Y/N, hey. Look at me."
You didn't want to. God, you wanted to do anything else. You would have rather floated in the water.
But you did it anyway, refusing to make things worse.
His face was just as soft as his touch, and even though you had nothing to worry about, you felt like you were going to cry.
"Are you... afraid of the water?" It wasn't mean or mocking. It was a genuine, concerned observation, and that somehow made it even worse.
"Y—yes," you choked out, feeling your throat start to tighten.
"Why did you agree to do this, then? I... I'm still more than happy to help you, but if you're afraid, you don't have to do anything you don't want to. I won't make you..."
"I know that, I just... You were practically begging to teach me how to swim, and I didn't want to make you sad," you joked hoping it would lighten the mood and keep you from actually shedding any tears.
Thankfully he laughed, and it made you laugh right along with him, some of your troubles easing and the tightness in your throat letting up just a little. The two of you were silent for a few beats before you reached out with one hand and grabbed his, taking a deep breath and nodding.
"Okay. I'm ready to let you teach me how to float. I promise I won't... freak out this time."
He looked down at your hand on his for a second, something changing in his eyes before he looked back up. "Are you sure?"
No. "Yes."
"Okay... Do you... want to stay here by the edge?"
You scoffed. "Where else would we go?"
"Um... Never mind, we'll stay here. Just um... Come here?"
You laughed a little at the fact that he didn't get that you were joking, and then let go of the ledge with your other hand, pulling yourself towards him and letting him get closer. His hands gently held onto your arms as your feet planted themselves on the pool floor. The proximity was surprisingly calming, considering your outburst just a minute earlier, and you were thankful for that.
Despite all the mess, things weren't nearly as bad as you'd imagined they'd be.
"Okay," Spencer said, nodding slightly. "I'm going to float first. I want you to keep your hands pressed up under my back, okay?"
"But... don't you already know how to float? What do you need me for?"
"I'm demonstrating how light your body weight is while you're in water. See, when I go back like this..."
That was your cue. He leaned back just like he had before, and your hands moved, laying your palms out to lay under his back as instructed. You instantly understood what he meant, because he started to sink a little, and when you lifted him up, it was like he weighed nothing.
"So, even if you do start to sink, I'll be right there to keep you steady. You'll be just fine," he reassured, standing up again. You removed your hands and smiled at him, already feeling better about this.
"Okay. How do I... Go back? Do I just..."
"Oh, uh... Here," he offered, reaching out his arms. You walked into them, and instantly felt your heartbeat pick up when he wrapped them around you, the two of you closer than you'd ever been.
"I'm going to lay you on your back, okay? I've got you."
You nodded, unable to form any words. And when he leaned your body back into the water, you were suddenly aware of all he could see.
Warmth flooded through you as you looked up at him, his hands planting themselves firmly under your back. Your bare back. One of them was pressed against the tie on your upper back, and immediately your mind went there, imagining his fingers deftly untying the knot and letting your bathing top come undone. Your heart raced faster and faster, and it was becoming harder to relax.
"Y/N, it's okay," Spencer said, snapping you out of it. "I'm right here. I'm not going to let you go, okay?"
"Okay," you whispered. "I trust you."
"I'm gonna start letting you go, okay? Just relax your muscles, take nice, calm breaths, and let everything go. Just... float."
His words were soft and whispered, so light it was like in a past life they were dandelion seeds floating in the wind on a warm summer day. You closed your eyes and focused on that image, the white fluff floating in a field, and your body started to relax.
"That's it," you barely heard Spencer's voice as you drifted off. Everything was light, airy, and... non-existent.
You weren't sure how long you stayed like that, but eventually you realized that there was nothing holding you up anymore. Nothing was there to ground you, to keep you steady.
Your heart leapt out of your chest, and you gasped, flailing and you felt your face start to go under as a result. "No!" you screamed, suddenly panicked.
Almost as quickly as the panic set in, Spencer's arms were wrapped around you again, pulling you from under the water and into his body. Your arms instantly clung to his neck, trying to pull yourself up and away from the water, where it couldn't drown you.
"Y/N, hey, I've got you. It's okay, I'm right here. You're okay..."
"I'm done," you breathed, trying to calm yourself. "Can we be done?"
"Yes, we can be done," he said back softly, using one of his hands to stroke the wet hair from your face.
Despite your urgency to be done, however, you stayed like that, wrapped up in him for what felt like forever. His hand continued stroking your hair and his lips continued to whisper sweet words of encouragement and praise. Gradually your breathing slowed to a steady pace, and you almost forgot where you were again. At least until he spoke up.
"Are you okay?"
You lifted your head back to look into his eyes, managing to get out a quick, "Uh huh," even as your breath caught in your throat. The way he was looking at you with such concern and sweetness sent a course of butterflies through your stomach. They migrated out towards your chest, accompanying your heartbeat in a quick, thundering pace that only seemed to get faster when his hand grazed your cheek.
Against your better judgement, your eyes fluttered closed, and you savored the feeling of his hands on you. The one brushed down your cheek and over your neck and collarbone, while the other found purchase against your lower back, his thumb rubbing comforting circles just above the hemline of your swim bottoms.
You felt his forehead touch yours and audibly gasped, clinging tighter to his neck and refusing to open your eyes.
"I've got you," he said so softly you weren't even sure you heard it at all. "I've always got you. Can you plant your feet down?"
You were still close enough to the edge of the pool that you knew you could, but in all honesty you'd forgotten you were even there. The sheer panic that came with floating on your own made you feel like you were in the middle of the ocean, and if he hadn't told you otherwise, you would have believed it to be true.
"I can," you answered truthfully. "But I don't want to."
With your foreheads pressed together still, you opened your eyes to find him staring at you, and it was sheer sparkling amusement you found swimming in his gaze as he spoke.
"Then don't."
You weren't sure who moved first. The next thing you knew, your lips were pressed together, and it was all you could take not to simply absorb into him. Which... of course, you practically did anyway. Because of the water, he lifted you to him with ease, giving you a better angle to cling to him since you'd done it so frantically before.
Your lips moved together without a care in the world, the two of you taking your time to just feel the moment. The tender, caring way in which he reciprocated and explored your kiss was almost as butterfly-inducing as all the simple looks he'd thrown your way and the gentle tone he always took with you.
It was almost as if he liked you back.
The thought made you pull away, breathless and dizzy, and the sheer look of contentment, followed by immense panic that set on Spencer's face brought you back to real life.
"I'm sorry," he rushed. "I... Y/N, I..."
Knowing you were already in too deep, you stopped him. "I like you."
He was silent. Frozen. And then, simply, "What?"
You sighed. "I... I like you. I have a crush on you. And I've had a crush on you pretty much from the moment we met. And I... I was trying to find the courage to tell you, and then the thing with Lila Archer happened and I wasn't even... like, she's so pretty, and she can swim, obviously, and I just felt like a total loser after that case, and so when you said you—"
Your words were cut off when he kissed you again, and you'd never been so surprised. Well, save for the panic you felt while floating in the water on your own just a few minutes ago, you supposed...
Though you were inclined to say this surprise was much better.
He pulled away after a few seconds, searching your eyes. "I like you, too," he said quietly.
"Y—You do?"
"Well, of course I do. You're... You're smart, and you're beautiful, a—and you're really good at swimming..."
You laughed. Hard. And Spencer laughed right along with you, until the two of you were just there, smiling at each other. And eventually, you ended up kissing each other again, just as you had before.
Only this time, your kisses got deeper. With every second, the two of you became more hungry, the low and soft moans coming from the bass of your throat urging him to become bolder.
Rather than holding you up by your back, he lowered his hands, gently over your butt and hooking under your thighs as your legs clung around his waist. Your arms still stayed around his neck, only now your fingers weaved through the hair at the nape of it, and when you tugged a little, he moaned into your mouth.
You didn't know how you got there, but all of a sudden, your back was pressed up against the edge of the pool, and you used that leverage to let go of his neck and let your hands roam freely, over his arms and down his chest.
But eventually the two of you had to come up for air, so you broke apart reluctantly, both panting and smiling like fools.
"So, is, uh... is this a hobby of yours?" you asked. "Making out with girls in pools?"
Spencer laughed, pressing his forehead to yours. "Only recently, but... I think this time is the only one that really counts."
He nuzzled his nose against yours and you laughed, feeling completely warm all over and suddenly thankful for not being able to swim.
***NSFW ENDING BELOW***
Now it was just... weird. Maybe that wasn't the right word, but it definitely was a weird feeling.
You'd both showered separately, barely saying a word to each other in between that wasn't awkward mumbling... And now you were sleeping in separate beds, faced away from each other, and you were pretty sure that neither of you were actually awake.
It had been like that for hours.
You weren't positive of how he was feeling right now, but you were still on fire. His kisses had burned you in a way that still lingered, even after taking a warm shower to clean the chlorine from your body, and a small cold shower to refresh you and quell the heat you were feeling that was no doubt a product of him.
Because nothing ever seemed to work out in your favor, it obviously hadn't worked.
So there you were, trying and failing to sleep, hyperaware of Spencer sleeping(?) in the bed next to yours, pressing your fingers to your lips and hoping you could recover from this.
You... liked each other, though... You'd both admitted it, mutually agreed that the feelings were there on both sides, and you happily kissed one another. A lot.
So why was this feeling so weird? Why was everything awkward? Maybe it was just a byproduct of your awkwardness and his combining, rather than cancelling each other out and creating a perfect match. Maybe it wouldn't last, because you'd always heard that opposites attracted, and as far as you could tell, you and Spencer Reid were anything but opposite.
The thought made you curl into a ball, all the awkwardness you were feeling suddenly dissolving into a sorrow and worry that had never nagged you like this before. The burning your body had felt before seemed to cool, leaving you numb and hollow.
But then, a beam of light through the clouds.
"Y/N?"
"Y—yeah?" you said back, matching his near-whisper.
"I know we have our own beds, but... I... I was wondering i—if maybe you'd want... to sleep in mine? With me?"
Maybe it was pathetic and desperate, but you didn't answer. You got up from your bed—practically leapt— and met him in a few strides, getting in under the covers and laying down, facing him in the dark your eyes had adjusted to.
He was smiling, half triumphant and half amused at your eagerness. "Can't sleep either?"
"No," you said quietly, still searching what little of his eyes you could see. "I... Truthfully, I think I just missed being close to you."
"Me, too," he whispered, scooting closer.
His hands were tentative in touching you, but you gently gripped his wrist and guided it to your waist, where it firmly rested and brought warmth back into your veins. Even through the fabric of your tee shirt, his touch burned hot, and it was everything you needed.
But it wasn't everything you got.
He leaned forward and kissed your forehead, and it burned just as hotly. It made you scoot even closer, until your chests were practically flush and your arms rested firmly around his neck again, making him smile. You felt it against your forehead, and that alone was enough to fully bring you back to life.
You wanted more. Just being close to him wasn't enough anymore. So you stretched a little and found your way to his neck, pressing soft kisses under his jaw. The grip on your waist tightened a little, and it urged you forward, strengthening your kisses and even encouraging you to get in a few licks and bites.
He stuttered your name, and you pulled back, looking at his face. But before you could say anything, he leaned forward and captured your lips in a kiss that could only be described as pure desperation. You sighed against him and purely relented as he pulled you closer. Instinctively your leg lifted and wrapped around his, the tangle of limbs and lips becoming second nature in no time.
Before, when you were kissing in the pool, you were careful to avoid the teeth accidentally clanking together or the accidental tongue slip, afraid of ruining the sweet moment you were sharing, but all caution was thrown to the wind this time. You were both so desperate to be near one another that you welcomed every imperfection. In fact, it's like they weren't even imperfections at all.
At one point, you all but grinded your lower half into him, warmth flooding there, now, too.
And it seemed he was feeling the same...
You could tell he wanted to pull back, to explain himself, but you didn't care. You wanted it just as badly, so you did the only thing that felt natural and shifted, straddling his waist and deepening your kiss.
In no time, he gathered your hair in his hands, sweeping it away from your face and tucking it behind your ear as you slowly moved your hips. The groan he let slip was just about the most delicious sound you'd ever heard, the grandest thing you'd ever felt, and you wanted to hear it again, over and over until your last breath.
And then you felt him grow harder underneath you, and the mere implications of that sent you into a tailspin.
"Y/N," Spencer said softly, and you paused, leaning back a little and combing through his hair with your fingers. It was still damp from the shower.
"Do... Do you not want to?" you asked sweetly. "We don't... we don't have to tonight. O—or at all, if you don't want to."
"Oh, no I do, it's... just that I didn't know if you wanted to. And I don't... have a whole lot of experience with sex, a—and I didn't want to... I don't know, be bad."
With a small laugh, you leaned down and kissed his cheek. "I'm with you, Spencer Reid. Nothing could ever be bad."
"You're just saying that," he said, though you could hear the smile in his voice.
"I mean it. You make me feel safe, and I... I trust you."
He kissed you then, gently one second and then hungrily the next, and it was all too much to bear. So you grabbed his face and kissed him back, as hard as you could, and he matched your energy by lightly bucking his hips up towards you. The feeling sent a shockwave through you, and even elicited a whine from the back of your throat.
The two of you kept at that for a good five minutes or so before you decided it was, again, all too much. You pulled away from him and sat up, still straddling his hips. And while looking down at him, seeing him breathe as steadily as he could, you brought your hands to the hem of your shirt and slowly yanked it over your head, revealing yourself to him and welcoming the warmth that bloomed through you at his reaction.
His eyes widened and his breathing faltered, and even though it was dim, you could have sworn you'd seen a pink tint paint his cheeks.
"Touch me," you whispered suddenly, the urgency surprising even yourself. Without hesitation, Spencer reached out as far as he could and gripped your bare waist. His thumbs swiped gently up the front of your stomach, and then you leaned down a bit, giving him full access.
The second his hands brushed over your bare chest, you sighed out, small pricks of pleasure beaming through your whole body. Your hands reached down to anchor yourself, landing on his chest and gripping his shirt. He kneaded your breasts first, feeling them out and getting used to how they weighed in his hands, and then he slid them over, brushing the pads of his thumbs over your nipples.
You leaned down and kissed him then, gripping his shirt and lifting it until he understood what you were trying to do.
Both of your clothes came off one by one, and by the time you were both fully naked, time seemed to slow. You both marveled at each other, pressed soft kisses to each inch of bare skin, and inevitably prepared for what you both wanted most.
He slipped on a condom, fumbling an explanation of how Morgan gave it to him after the case in LA, and you laughed, promising to give him a piece of your mind later.
And then, you wrapped yourself around him once more. Only, rather than in the pool, he was sitting up in the bed, leaning against the headboard while your arms rested on his shoulders and your legs clung to his waist.
You sunk onto him slowly, gasping out at how full he made you feel. Every millimeter deeper was slowly splitting you from the inside out, and it was... God, it was everything. Especially as he wrapped his arms around your back, making those comforting circles with his thumbs again, and whispering, "I've got you," over and over again.
By the time he was as deep inside you as he could be, you were breathing into his neck, kissing him there and trying to catch your breath. It had been so long since the last time you'd done this, and now that it was happening, and with Spencer of all people, you were overwhelmed in the best way possible.
Once you were ready, you started moving, slowly lifting your hips and bringing them back down. Until, eventually, you found a slow, searing rhythm that had you panting against his skin.
A low groan left his throat when you clenched around him, and it spurred you on. With another tight squeeze, you quickened your pace just a little, and everything was starting to build.
"Y/N... Y/N, fuck..."
His words were few and far between, but they were laced with just the right amount of wonderment and desire, sending another swarm of butterflies all throughout your entire body.
"Say it again," you breathed desperately in his ear, gripping his shoulders as you clenched around him again. "Say my name, please..."
And he did. It was the sweetest thing you'd ever heard, better than your favorite song, and the only thing you wanted to hear for the rest of your life. He said it again and again, thrown into a mix of expletives and little whimpers that all meshed together to form your new favorite song.
You reciprocated, whimpering out his name when his hips lifted in time with yours, hitting something deeper within you that sent you flying into your own world.
"Kiss me," he pleaded, his hands pressing so firmly into your back you thought they'd leave handprints.
It was a plea you wouldn't deny even if you were able. You kissed him deeply, gladly welcoming the soft push of his tongue against yours and the little sounds he offered. You returned each and every one of them as your body knotted, that imminent feeling of tension starting to rise within every part of you.
He must have felt it, too, because one of his hands reached over and slid in between your bodies, looking for and then finding your clit. His middle finger made easy circles that brought you closer and closer until you snapped, tightening around him—your arms and your legs included.
You cried out against his mouth, and he breathed a final, "I've got you, baby," that shattered your world as you shattered around him. He fell closely behind, and you relished the feeling of him tensing and twitching inside of you.
As your heartbeats slowed, and your breathing right along with it, you slumped against him, your foreheads resting gently against one another. He kissed you sweetly, and you returned it, feeling yourself become more at ease the longer you stayed there.
"Are you okay?" he asked softly, still catching his breath. "Can you move?"
Recalling the moment in the pool earlier, you laughed a little, nudging his nose with yours and promptly answering, "I can. But I don't want to."
With a smile, Spencer hugged you closer and let you rest your head in the crook of his neck.
"Then don't."
TAGLIST: @elldell1204 @muffin-cup @calm-and-doctor @slutforthegubes @takeyourleap-of-faith (I’m sorry I keep forgetting to add the taglist to all my stuff, I’m still kinda new at this lol. That being said, if you’d like to be added, shoot me a message or comment here and I’ll add you 😂❤)
#mercy 1k celebration#spencer reid x reader#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds#spencer reid#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid x reader fluff#spencer reid smut#request
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Battle of knowledge
Pairing: Spencer Reid x male!reader
Summary: When a battle of knowledge abruptly occurs as the two known doctors meet at a case, everyone is partially amused by their hate towards the other, as they both differ their problems in quite a unusual way afterwards.
Warnings: Mentions of case, usual cm stuff…, slight sex allusions (rated T just in case the mentions happen to be something that’d be rated like that)
Word count: 1.7 k
A/N: Hey everyone!! I hope you guys are well!! I took this request from @imagining-in-the-margins as she didn’t want it, so here I am :) that fic is kind of dedicated to @ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff , I thought a lot about you as I wrote this fic :)! Hope everyone enjoys. (yeah the dialogue is ehhh in the first half to me, sorry for that)
When Spencer had gone all the way from Virginia to Arizona for a case that had yet to upset the rest of his team, he didn't actually expect another person to upset him as much as the authors of the crime themselves.
The other person was known as the genius of the team, another "version" of him, except that he was in Arizona, with a slightly different rank.
He didn't think badly of him at first, he appreciated the fact of having another person similar to him, which meant that he didn't have to explain the terms he'd use to someone else, he could talk without complications.
He’d usually have to pause in his lecture to explain some stuff, but he didn’t feel like he’d need to do it with him.
"Arizona's genius, y/n y/l/n. It's nice to meet you all. I heard there's another genius here. As much as I'd like to have a nice chat, killers are on the loose, so, eventually, at the end of the case."
The way he had talked was completely fascinating to him, even if he wanted to, he couldn't draw his eyes off him as he talked.
The first words had completely convinced them, and he really felt like he could have a correct interaction with him.
It wasn't everyday that he'd had the occasion to meet another mind similar to his.
This happened to be quite relieving considering the complicity of the case, and it would be much faster for everything to be answered as they'll be two.
"No, he's not that type of guy! Look at what he did, especially at the third victim!" He yelled.
"We have all reasons to think he could be like that, I didn't say it definitely is, but it could be." Spencer argued, pissed off by his words.
"The M.O you just described doesn't really fit, something is missing, and none of what you said makes it right."
"It's the closest thing we have, it's that or we completely start from scratch, as if it's "wrong" to you."
"I don't think it's only to me, and it's better to try to start again than continue with what we have and possibly launch into a wall because that wasn't right. Okay, that's going to take time, but might as well get it right."
"When I expected for the case to go smoothly, I didn't come all the way for this, since when are you so annoying?"
"Oh, now I'm annoying? I'm just doing my job, and you're the one acting offended. So," He paused, as he gathered papers before walking away. "If you excuse me, I have to catch the ones doing this, instead of wasting time. Come back to me when you're in a better mood to work correctly." Y/N said, as another coworker of his approached Spencer not long after he had left.
"Um...I doubt that'll make the situation better, but he acts like that, sometimes. It may seem that he's not going to work, but don't worry, it's mainly so he can...get himself back in the right head space." He explained. "Don't try...get pissed off at each other too often, none of our unit chiefs will be happy with that."
"He could have been less...like that."
"It's just y/l/n being himself, 'can't do much about it. Anyway, let's get back to work, and try to get better you two, at least till we wrap the case."
"Trouble's around." Derek chirped to JJ.
"This case is going to be...fun. Let's hope we at least get to have a distraction."
"Oh, don't worry JJ, we'll have one. They're not done fighting. Definitely not."
"Do you think they're gonna make up and become friends, or yell at each other until the end?" Emily asked.
"A mix of the two. They'll kinda hate each other, but not enough to resist having a conversation between geniuses." Garcia answered.
"True. It's not every day that the both of them get to talk with someone that understands their stuff." Derek pointed out.
"Let's hope that we'll get to see some animation in between work."
*
*
"Are you here to yell again or try to have a calm conversation?" Y/N asked, as soon as Spencer entered.
"I don't get why you're directly attacking before I get to say anything." Spencer protested.
"Just in case."
"Okay, do you have something against me or what? Because I can't work if you keep being angry all of the time."
"I'm not angry." He answered.
"Then I'm a clown if I can't even read your face. It's written on your forehead that you are, you're literally an open book." Spencer closed the door, having a slight feeling that the conversation would possibly get louder.
"I thought you weren't supposed to profile the people you work with, no? I'm not your coworker, but we're working on this case together, so don't profile me unless I ask, which will never happen."
"I don't get you."
"What is there even to understand? You're the one I don't get."
"It's you that I can't figure out. I just can't stand you right now."
"Unfortunately, I'm afraid you'll have to calm your nerves till we finish that case. Because I'm not wasting twenty minutes explaining what is there to "understand" about me." He spit back, glancing at Spencer.
"I can't keep talking with you if you act like that."
"I'm not a cute puppy in case you haven't figured that out. I'm not going to be nice just for you, especially when you point out that I'm not how you like to be talked."
"I didn't specify anything."
"Didn't you, doctor?" He focused on the last word, raising his eyebrows.
"Damn it." Spencer walked up to him in a snap, glancing at him for a split second before suddenly taking in his face in his hands as he roughly kissed him.
Not even one of them expected that it'd just take a single argument to let the pressure out.
They were just kissing each other, like that. Spencer was the one who started it, not even wondering if he'd return it or walk away, but turns out that y/n had been the one to take the lead after that, as he gripped his hair, slamming him against the wall.
Nothing really mattered in that moment, they didn't even think about the others possibly walking in, all they both needed to do was to let out of all the frustration contained since this morning.
It wasn't quite only anger, but also because they had both wanted each other, in their own way.
As much as Y/N was afraid to admit it, he did imagine it, slamming him against the wall, even if he wouldn't be strong or even courageous enough to do that.
Spencer did imagine gripping his jaw, especially after he walked out in fury, he was so upset about him that all he wanted was to kiss him to let him know what he felt.
He didn't want to admit it, but he hated it whenever someone raised his voice at him, he needed to do that to calm himself, in some way.
If they weren't in some police station, their shirts would have already been on the floor, the layers of clothes between them were more than infuriating as they tugged at the other's shirt.
And even when they stopped for a moment to breathe again, it didn't take much for their lips to link again after a short glance.
Spencer quickly flipped y/n the other way so he'd be the one against the wall, and to his surprise, his face quickly gained another tint.
He caged him in with one arm against the wall, gripping his chin with the other, as y/n tugged at his hair again, not knowing where else to put them.
Things went fast so quickly, they didn't even think about what they'd do, they just went with the flow.
What they forgot to think and pay attention about, was that they weren't alone in the place.
Literally all of the people working at the station were there, and could possibly start to look for them.
They really didn't care about it, none of them broke the kiss to point it out, it was just four walls, them, and their mixed feelings.
"I still can't stand you." Spencer said in between when they briefly broke the kiss.
"Me neither." He blurted out.
As one of them probably guessed at some point, their inattention cost them when they didn't even hear the lock of the door over their breaths.
"Hey, we found…" JJ walked in, stopping in the middle of the sentence.
The door kept itself open, as the noise of the outside drew in, causing them to break away as both of their eyes were wide open.
Spencer's hair was a mess, strands going everywhere, which would need to be at least fixed with his hand for him to be presentable.
Only the back of y/n's hair was messed up as he was against the wall most of the time.
Both of their shirts had a few buttons out, although, y/n's was the closest to being on the floor if someone hadn't come.
By the time they had begun slowly walking away from the other, she had definitely just seen them making out.
"...something." She ended the sentence, not quite knowing what to say after witnessing the event.
"Oh, uh...we'll uh...meet you in just a sec." Spencer said.
"Right. Okay." JJ responded, closing the door in a hurry.
"I hate to say this to you, but I think we're screwed." Y/N pointed out once she was gone.
"They'll definitely be able to tell from the look on her face and ours when we'll get out."
"Yeah, we should have…done it elsewhere."
"It's a bit late for that."
"You're the one who started, you should have at least chosen another place genius."
"I have to admit it but, true."
"They'll definitely figure out you're the one who started, you basically entered after me."
"I hate you."
"No, you don't. You just don't like me." He corrected Spencer, as he opened the door to walk out, walking out of the room.
It didn't take much for some of their coworkers's eyes to lay on them as they entered their vision.
Spencer discreetly approached y/n after Hotch began talking, making sure the attention was elsewhere.
"I'm going to show you how much I 'just don't like you' when we're out of here, you're gonna see."
"Deal."
*
*
#Criminal Minds#criminal minds fanfic#Criminal Minds Spencer Reid#Criminal Minds Fanfiction#cm fic#cm spencer reid#spencer reid#dr. spencer reid#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid fanfiction#Spencer Reid fic#matthew gray gubler fic#cm male reader#spencer reid x male reader#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x y/n#male reader
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Guest Lecturer
Spencer Reid x Female Reader
Summary: Reader gets Spencer riled up during class while he’s guest lecturing.
A/N: This is my 6th fic for my 750 follower celebration! This one kind of got away from me and I’ve been second guessing what I wrote all day lmao- I also imagine this as like season 9/10 Spencer. Thank you again to @spencers-dria who listens to all my rants about my writing AND gave me this idea. She’s amazing, everyone should go check out her fics.
Warnings: 18+, Established FWB relationship, Teasing in public, Spencer gets an untimely boner, Oral sex (M receiving), Unprotected sex, Degradation, Creampie
Main Masterlist Word count: 1.6k
“One of the earliest modern theories about criminology stated that criminals couldn’t help it—they were simply born that way. Cesare Lombroso came up with the theory, which he called “The Criminal Man,” in the late 19th century. Lombroso’s theory helped to unify criminal traits and identification (while also perhaps not paying enough attention to upbringing and environment as criminal factors).”
Whenever I invited Spencer to guest lecture in the criminology course I taught I got even more excited to do my job. The way he delivered every lecture sucked me in immediately, my full attention completely on him.
Today however, was different. The lecture I had invited him to do on the early history of the subject was material I had heard millions of times before as an educator. My mind was wandering more than usual and it had specifically wandered to observing how good Dr. Reid looked today. The two of us weren’t officially together, but all the late nights we both spent at each other’s apartments were not just to ‘hang out’.
I decided to tease him a little, to put my distracted mind to good use, after all he did something similar last week. I was sitting in the back of the relatively small lecture hall, but I knew of ways I could get Spencer’s eyes on me within an instant.
He was rambling on about the flaws in early criminology theories when I started to unbutton and shuck off my blazer. It was an innocent act that any wandering eyes of my students would not question, but the way I purposefully slightly traced over the edges of my bra was sure to get Spencer’s attention.
“S-sorrry class, I lost my train of thought.” I smirked as he stumbled over his words, he was so easy. He picked the lecture back up swiftly after that, though perhaps he was rambling a bit faster than before.
I was unsatisfied, so I continued on in my pursuit to make Spencer blush. I made a show of how I started to unbutton my blouse, but only the first two, I wasn’t trying to get fired here. The top two buttons, however small, served their purpose. When unbuttoned, they showed just enough of my chest that Spencer again started stuttering. My students were rather used to his stuttering, he’d often get talking so fast that he’d trip over his words and have to start the sentence over again. Knowing that in this case, his stuttering was for a different reason made my panties start to dampen.
My final tease towards the end of the lecture was to show him how turned on I was just from teasing him. I looked to make sure none of my students were just as distracted as I was and had wandering eyes before enacting the final stage of my revenge. I shifted to the side in my seat so my legs were facing halfway into the aisle, then uncrossing them which gave Spencer a good look at my panties. Maybe he would also be able to see the wet spot that had already begun to form, I was so glad I wore a skirt today.
His cheeks were starting to flush a deep red as he tried to casually shuffle behind the podium on the other side of the small stage where he finished the last bit of his lecture. I had no doubt he moved there in an attempt to hide his tightening slacks. I smirked again, mission accomplished.
After the end of his lecture I made my way up to the stage and dispersed my students. Once they had all asked their lingering questions to me and Spencer I turned to him and asked coyly, “Could we go talk in my office, Spencer?”
—-
“Sit down.” I commanded and motioned to my desk chair at the other side of the office. Spencer immediately followed my command, sitting down obediently on the chair with his hands laced together in front of him. “Why were you so distracted today Spencer?”
The flush that had been present earlier returned to his cheeks at my words before he started to stutter out, “You were t-teasing me during the lecture, I just wasn’t expecting it.”
“Well- you teased me last week did you not? After all, who was the poet that said- All is fair in love and war?” I asked while making my way to stand tall over where he was sitting in my chair.
“John Lyly.” He did not stutter this time when he answered my question, but the end of it rose in pitch when I started to get down on my knees. I may have been the one getting down on my knees, but there was no doubt who was the one in charge, me.
“You alright with me being a little rougher with my words today Spencer?” We had talked about rougher degradation before, he had even used harsh words on me before, though I still wanted to make sure that he was ok with it. Once he gave me the go ahead I only had one more thing to say to him before. Got started, “And, make sure to be quiet. We wouldn’t want anyone to hear how loud you are for me, would we?”
He nodded fast at my command, already so desperate for me to get started. I pulled his belt out of the loops then swiftly pulling down his pants and boxers, revealing his hard length to me. I kissed my way up his length, following the already throbbing vein that ran up the side before taking him into my mouth. His hands pulled into fists as I started to bob my head vigorously, also making sure to hollow my cheeks. I then batted his hand away when it involuntarily came to rest on my hand, then grabbed both of his hands to hold them down on the seat of the chair. Then, while holding him down partially I took him as far down my throat as possible, slightly gagging on him. His hips squirmed a little and when I looked up through my lashes I could see him biting down hard on his bottom lip to contain his moans. My own wetness was making me just as desperate as him, I pulled off of him so I could have us both indulge. His hips jerked desperately towards my mouth searching out his release he so desperately wanted. At least he was silently complaining and didn’t break my no noises rule. I spoke with a bite in my tone as I stripped out of my own clothes, “Don’t complain, despite being a desperate little thing you have been good so far, I was going to let you cum inside.” I hovered my dripping pussy over his length, I needed an apology from him before I was to indulge myself.
“I’m sorry…” He whimpered. “Please, let me have you?”
“Since you seem so sorry I’ll let it slide.” I scoffed a little before allowing myself to sink down onto his length. I had to bite my own lip hard as I felt all the ridges of his cock while I slowly sunk down on him, he always filled me so perfectly. As I started to move on top of him slowly I reveled in the way he tried to move underneath me, but the way I sat above him in the desk chair had his hips pinned firmly down.
“What do you think everyone would say if they saw you underneath me? What would they say when they found out that their guest lecturer is such a little whore for their professor?” He mewled loudly at my degrading words, so loudly that I had to clamp your hand over his mouth. “I told you to be quiet, I guess since you’re incapable of following my directions all the way through, I’ll just have to keep my hand here.”
He mewled underneath my hand, not stopping himself from holding back his noises now that my hand was muffling them. I could tell he was getting close, so I sped up the rolling of my hips and increased how harshly I bounced on top of him.
“Cum with me.” I ordered just as I could feel my orgasm beginning to overtake me. Spencer happily took my orders, it only took two more thrusts for him to come apart. He greedily grabbed my hips and slammed me down all the way down onto his length, spilling himself as deep inside me as he could. I would’ve normally chastised him for his greediness, but I was too distracted by the devastating orgasm I was riding out to really care.
After we both rode out our highs I let Spencer bask in the warmth of me for a few minutes before I got up to dole out the aftercare. Aftercare was arguably my favorite part of being with Spencer. I enjoyed my post coital conversations with him immensely and he was also the best at cuddling.
“Do you think your students suspected anything?” The worry in his voice was evident as I cleaned up the evidence of our excursion.
“No I don't think so, and even if they did they wouldn’t say anything, we didn’t do anything that would get me fired.” I hummed and sat down on Spencer’s lap, enveloping him in my warmth. I ran my fingers through his hair loving the way his curls felt through my fingers, I was so glad I didn’t have any more classes I had to teach today. I spoke again, with a little more affection in my tone compared to our normal post coital bliss conversations,“You are my favorite guest lecturer.”
“I’m your favorite guest lecturer?”
I snickered a little bit before answering,“Did I never tell you? You’re actually my only one.”
—-
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Intro to Criminal Minds: Why They Did It
Criminal Minds x MINDHUNTER AU
Spencer Reid x Margaret Carr (OC)
Part 1: Ed Kemper.
Summary: Spencer is teaching a 7-week seminar on the most interesting criminal cases, explaining their actions to understand why they took place. Only, not everyone in the audience is a student.
warnings: graphic details of a real rape and murder case, like every trigger in the book, applies to this fic so read with caution (if you watch either show you're used to it, however), it's all real and did actually happen and I don't support any of it. strangers to lovers, mutual pining, flirting, fluff, eventual smut, idiots in love, OC is Wendy Carr's daughter, her bio father is Jason Gideon
word count: 3.9K
He'd be lying if he said he wasn't having fun teaching.
He started with guest speaking, moving to special seminars a few times a year. But he wanted something more, settling for a 7-week criminal justice elective of his choosing.
Intro to Criminal Minds: why they did it. Giving Spencer an excuse to share the most intimate facts about serial offenders in a setting where no one could tell him to shut up.
14 students total signed up for the two-hour Seminar, taking place every Thursday at 11 am from September until Halloween. Over the 7 weeks, he would explain the fascinating insights of the most successful killers in the United States. Only asking that his students write about a prolific crime they find interesting by the end of term, for their full grade.
All he wanted was to read about obscure killers from around the world, from the perspective of aspiring profilers.
The first Thursday, he came prepared with his coffee a half hour before the class. He wanted to write the main points on the whiteboard in advance, nice and neatly.
To his surprise, a student was already there waiting for him. "Oh, hello,” he smiled softly.
She was sitting with a book in her hands, she pushed her glasses up her nose to look at him as he walked in. She was older than his typical student, around 35. Probably finishing up a degree or adding something to what she already had.
"Hi," she smiled at him. “Sorry, I’m early, I was visiting my mom at Quantico earlier.” She explained. "I'm not a teacher's pet or anything. Promise, I’m not even a student.”
It made him laugh slightly, correcting him like she read his mind. "It's okay, I'm Doctor Reid," he introduced himself softly.
“Margaret Carr, Peggy is also fine.”
"Pleasure to meet you," he said quickly before focusing his attention on the whiteboard.
He could feel her eyes on him the whole time he wrote, not wanting to turn around and catch her. "That's so interesting," he heard her mumble under her breath.
"Hmm?" He turned around.
"It's just that, everyday occurrences that never phase the regular person somehow cause psychopaths to kill," she read the board back to him.
"I was reading a study a while back about how psycho killers medulla oblongata is approximately 19% smaller than the average human’s. Based on the way they're nurtured as children affects if they grow up to kill. The ones that don't often end up in law enforcement and other positions of power where their psychopathic tendencies can come to play."
He was taken aback for a moment. He had never experienced a student who was like him before. Someone who just pulled facts into conversations like it was nothing.
"I read that as well," he smiled. "It is fascinating. The smallest amount of bullying and abuse from a mother or disappearance of a father figure can set them off."
"Or, on the other hand, there are people like Ted Bundy," she added. "He was well-loved and taken care of, but it went to his head. His god complex and affinity for lying led him to be incredibly charismatic and enabled his killing."
"You're very educated on this already; are you just interested in hearing me speak today?" He asked, not wanting her to leave, finding it interesting that she was there.
"Oh," she blushed. "I was going to talk to you more about it after the seminar actually."
“Okay, I’ll be waiting for you,” he felt a little giddy at the prospect.
"Thanks," she laughed. "Seriously though, I'm a big fan of your teaching style, I saw a few of your classes when my dad was teaching at the academy in 2005. It's a lot easier to remember facts if the lecturer genuinely loves what they're talking about."
"You're going to like this Seminar then. It’s basically just a way for me to get paid while unloading all the random facts I have,” he warned her with a smile.
"I know." She smiled back at him.
The rest of his students filed in slowly. By 11 am, 14 faces were staring back at him.
"Hello," he waved awkwardly. "I'm dr. Spencer Reid. For the last 12 years, I've worked with the FBI's Behavioural Analysis Unit. Catching serial offenders across the country."
He took a deep breath, letting the nerves find their way out of him. "I've been asked time and time again who my favourite serial killer is, which is a peculiar way to phrase the question. It feels morally wrong to have a favourite in the way people do with baseball players.
"I am, however, fascinated with several serial offenders' reasoning and explanation for why they did what they did. Every single killer is different, but it all comes back to 1 thing. Do you know what that is?"
They all shook their heads. “What is your relationship with your parents like?" He asked.
Everyone in the room reacted; some students sighed, some rolled their eyes as they recalled their parents and childhoods to memory.
"When a person decides to kill, it's often never in the moment. It's in childhood. The majority of serial offender's stories start the same; their mother didn't love them, their father left. Someone at home abused them or put them down repeatedly."
"Thus, causing a hatred so primal to bubble. No matter how hard they try and fight it, the bubble always bursts. They go from fantasizing to killing in retaliation for their abuse, taking the anger out in stages."
He referred to the board. "Every killer has a stressor and a trigger—something that causes the urge to bubble and the event that causes the bubble to rupture.”
"Edmund Kemper is a fascinating example of this. He grew up with a
family for the first few years of his life before his father fully abandoned them. His mother handled the situation by turning her anger onto her son; it was his fault his father left, he looked just like him, Ed was just another useless man who would never amount to anything," he emphasized the words. Hoping the class sees the effects words have on children.
"He started by cutting up dolls, stealing his sister's barbies and cutting their heads off. In his mind, he was getting out his anger and hatred for how his mother saw him. She hated men, causing him to mature with a warped idea of what women are truly like."
"His attraction to killing worsened his mother's hatred; she could tell something was wrong with him, that he didn't react to everyday situations the way he should. By the time he was ten, she was locking him in the basement for days on end, telling him he was a monster and her biggest regret."
"The change in her rage amplified his own. He hated hearing her speak. He hated the way she walked around, thinking she was better than him. That just because she was a mother and a working woman, she deserved respect and submissive’s. All he could see was a woman with a big head who needed to be humbled. This is the moment when the psychotic side of his brain blended his hatred of his mother with how good it felt to kill."
"Is that why he, you know?" Peggy cut in, running her finger along her neck as she pretended to cut her head off.
He pressed his lips together in an awkward smile, nodding. "His signature, as it's called, was decapitation. But more specifically necrophiling the severed head of his victims."
The whole class let out a disgusted noise, Peggy and Spencer making eye contact while they shrugged, it wasn't news to them.
"At age ten, he moved from barbies to cats and dogs, never leaving them around for his mother to see. While he hated her, he was also absolutely terrified of her. Breading a special type of killer. When you think of school shooters or preferential predators, what do they have in common?" He asked.
He pointed at a student in the back. "They have a specific type of victim they’re after?"
"Exactly. Most serial offenders want to go after the cause of their pain or attraction. However, Ed wasn't able to kill the source of his rage for a long time. His mother mentally abused him so intensely that he believed she was in control of him and that her opinion of him mattered. He saw her as his God, he loved her, but he also knew that he disappointed her.
"He ran away soon after to find his father. Travelling to California, only to be told he was unwanted there as well. It wasn't just his mother that his father was escaping; it was the fundamental aspect of family that he didn't want. Ed defiantly didn't want to go back to his mother after that, so he moved in with his paternal grandparents."
He kept catching the looks on Peggy's face. She knew the story already, waiting patiently to hear the words he chose to make the horrific acts seem a little more conversational.
"His grandmother was exactly like his mother. If I had to guess, his father most likely had a distaste for his own mother and thus divorced Ed's mom. Only he never grew up to be a killer, just an absent father—his absence doing to Ed what never happened to him."
"Ed killed his grandparents when he was 15. Telling the police and his therapists that they had beaten him constantly, they refused to feed him and called him names. He said he snapped from the trauma; it was self-defence."
Peggy laughed to herself, making him smile softly. "Sending him to a mental hospital instead of a juvenile facility was the worst thing they could've done for him," Spencer added.
"Why?" A student asked.
"Ed is a psychopath." He reminded them. "He doesn't feel empathy the way we do. You can admit that you feel bad for him, yes? If you understand why he killed people, it doesn't make you sick, like him, it makes you human. You see a hurt person hurting others; Ed Kemper sees himself as a new sort of God, choosing who dies, how and when."
"He was brilliant, having the exact IQ as I do," just a humblebrag, "the staff trusted him. He looked like an innocent boy, smart enough to take matters into his own hands for the betterment of his life. They gave him computer privileges, they let him work the front desk and file patient information. Giving him all the resources to learn about who he was inside and how to get away with it perfectly."
"Damn," another kid added. "When did he get out?"
"At 21.” He answered the student quickly. “Ed was interviewed by my mentor Jason Gideon, in the 70s. Where he explained that being locked up during his sexual prime, as well as the access to information, is what truly set him off more than his mother.
"He moved back in with her and his sister when he came out of the institution, immediately returning to the constant ridicule. He went from being told all the time that he was a smart and charming young man, capable of rehabilitation to a useless, no-good son, who would have been better off collecting in a condom or running down her leg."
The whole class laughed, shocked at his repetition of Ed's mother's words.
"He got his licence when he was released. And remember, this was prime time for hitchhiking in California; everyone and their mother walked the roads with a thumb in the air. It was the birth of free love and recreational marijuana usage. It was also the best hunting ground for a learning serial killer."
"He was able to pick women up, but like I said, missing his sexual prime while in an institution made him almost impotent. He didn't know how to speak to women; he had to create a fantasy in his mind every time, one that involved killing, before he could look at a woman."
"How did he get them in his car then?" A voice asked from the back.
"He was 6'9, 300lbs; he looked like a big teddy bear. And his mother was the local college administrative assistant, so the whole town knew him anyway. If Ed offered to give them a ride, it wouldn't be that bad, right?" Peggy turned around to face the class as she explained for Spencer, who just shook his head.
"He only wanted to rape the victims, originally," Spencer added. "But he couldn't. There was no release of the tension. The bubble that had been growing inside him was at its breaking point; he needed to just do it. Get it over with and move on."
"He killed 6 women in succession after that. Gaining the name "The Co-Ed Killer," well before anyone even suspected Ed Kemper," Spencer took a sip of coffee, feeling his throat start to dry as they reached the insane part.
"He was overly friendly with the cops; he wanted to get his record expunged and join the force.” Spencer finally continued. “Being told, "don't worry about your record, worry about your weight.""
"Most killers enjoy wearing a uniform for the power and talking to the police about their cases, in the hopes of gauging how smart they really are—taking pride in the fact that they are getting away with it for so long."
"He watched all the cop shows, and he read all the books. He knew that in order to get away with it, he had to do it where no one could trace it back to him. He knew he had to keep his cool and avoid looking obsessed with the case, but just curious enough to gain insight into how they thought he was doing it. It went on for years, and they had absolutely zero leads, finding headless bodies every few months before they finally received a call." He left them hanging, walking over to his sheet of paper and pretending to read it while they anticipated the catch.
"Ed always knew that he wanted to kill his mother. He just never knew when,” Spencer teased the story along. Noticing as the students fidgeted in their seats as they wondered what happened next.
“In his interview with Gideon, Ed said that he knew she would die 7 days before he killed her. He walked into her room that night to find her reading, with the audacity to ask if he wanted to come in and chat all night. Teasing him for the way he rambled to her. It was the last time she ever did that."
"It's hard to imagine his signature with the fact his second last victim was his mother," Peggy added, cringing at the thought.
"Wait," another student interjected. "Who was his last kill then if he only really wanted to kill her?"
"Remember how I said he lacked empathy?" Spencer asked. "He loved his mother in the same way a prisoner can end up loving their captor."
Peggy nods at the comparison, looking like she's never thought of it that way before, then smiling at him.
"You grow a bond through the trauma and when the only thing you've ever known is violence and hate, you don't know what to do when that's gone, it's hard to cope."
"He said he killed his mother so that she never had to know what he did. She'd never have to sit at his court hearings or be able to tell the media that she always knew he was a killer."
"His last kill was his mother's best friend," He finally answered the question.
"He didn't want his mother to be even more disappointed in him, but he also didn't want his mother's best friend to find her like that and be upset. So the obvious answer to him was to kill her too."
"What the fuck?" He heard a couple of kids say under their breath.
"Yeah," he agreed with an almost chuckle. "This is what I mean by their answers are fascinating. It makes so much sense to them; clearly, if I kill my mother, her friend will be upset, so the best answer would be to put her out of her misery as well. He sees them as objects, like a matching set. One would lose value without the other."
Everyone was silent then. The students took in all the information they had just received, staring up at him with a look of disgust mixed with wonder.
"Any questions?"
Peggy raised her hand for a change; he pointed towards her in approval. "You missed the part where he specifically took the heads from the three women before his mother and brought them back home with him. He buried them in the yard outside her bedroom window, making sure they were always looking up to her."
Spencer was amazed that she knew the details. "Yes, I guess I did."
"I always found that part particularly interesting in this case," Peggy added. "Her opinion mattered so much to him. He knew how much she loved her co-ed's and how they looked up to her so much. They'd be exactly like her. He felt trapped in a town of women who were exactly like his nightmare, and his response was to make them physically look up to her for the rest of her life."
"Exactly." Spencer smiled. "understanding how he sees the situation and how the events played out in his mind is the key in figuring out who he is."
"If you were on the case in '72 when the first victims were discovered, how would you have handled it, Dr. Reid?" A male student in the back asked in the silence between answers, taking his shot before Peggy and Spencer went any further in their discussion.
“That's a hard thing to answer, connecting evidence back then was a lot harder than it is today, if it wasn’t for men like Ed there wouldn’t really be this many answers,” Spencer said honestly.
Another student put her hand up, “what’s the worst thing he did in your opinion?”
That racked his brain, there was a handful of horrific things he did that were particularly horrific, “probably his mother's entire murder.”
“What did he do?”
Before Spencer could answer he saw Peggy open her mouth and start explaining. “He not only cut off her head and fucked her neck, but he also took her vocal cords out and shoved them down the garbage disposal. And before he called the cops, he cleaned everything up and made her look presentable because he said his mother wouldn’t want guests to see the mess.”
The class all cringed, sinking into their seats with disgust. But that didn’t stop Peggy from explaining it all further.
“He used to go to a bar all the cops went to and he would talk about his case. They would always one-up themselves and say they were close which gave him this false idea that they were on his tail and they’d find his mother soon. But when they didn’t, he called it in from a payphone and said he’d come over and explain it all. And boy did he ever, the cops said he wouldn’t shut up. And then when they put him in the cop car finally, a woman walked past him and he threw up.”
Spencer watched her with awe, the way she could call information to memory like that was beautiful. He listened to her like he’s never heard a fact before, she was so intriguing.
“Thank you for the detail,” he teased her lightly. “Sometimes I get so caught up that the really gross parts get swept aside.”
The class smiled at him, he had gained their trust and attention within only 1 hour of class.
“I know you said you don’t have a favourite,” another student asked from the back. “I agree it’s weird, but who is the one you gravitate towards the most?”
“I’ve met hundreds of serial killers, I’ve read about thousands,” he explained. “I think Ed Kemper is the one I gravitate the most around because he was so willing and open to explaining why he is the way he is. Going as far as to say that the only way they could keep women safe is to give him a lobotomy. He didn’t believe there was any correcting to be done, only removal of the evil within him.”
He heard slight mumbles as everyone took in what he said. “Does anyone here have a killer or a case that interested them in learning more, or just introduced you to the chase of justice?”
Peggy put her hand up, “I personally think BTK is the scariest, most tactical, and just downright evil man to ever exist. He scares me to no end but he’s so interesting to learn about.”
“Ahh,” Spencer agreed. “Too bad you won't be here for week 3. But with that I think I’ll end the class, next week we’ll be discussing the difference between Ted Bundy and Richard Speck.” He nodded lightly, watching the majority of them close their books and had on out.
“I really enjoyed the class,” she said softly. Holding her purse in one hand, a collection of files in the other.
Spencer turned to look at her then, smiling right back. “It was a pleasure to teach alongside you.”
“What do you mean?” She teased, “it’s not like my mom and dad were the ones who did all the interviews."
“Carr,” he repeats her last name. The gears turning in his mind as he brings all the information forth.
“Your mother is Wendy Carr, she was recruited after the BTK case with Bill Tench, she’s who was behind that study you mentioned.”
“I know,” she smiled.
“Who’s your father?”
“Guess,” she looked at him with an unimpressed look on her face, pushing her glasses up slightly.
“You’re kidding? Gideon never said he had a daughter let alone a,” he stops himself before he can embarrass himself any further.
She smiled at the implication of his words, “but he’s told me all about you Dr. Reid, that’s why I'm here.”
“You need help with a case and I’m the only agent in Virginia currently,” he pressed his lips together awkwardly. Knowing it was too good to be true that she would have any interest in him in the slightest.
“No actually, I have a case I’ve been working on privately and I need some help. I asked my dad but he said you’d be able to help me the best. I agree,” she corrected him softly. “I wasn’t kidding when I said I was a big fan of yours. When I would sit in and watch his lectures, before he knew I was his kid, you would always step in at the best parts, adding the smallest details to the story that the average person would forget. It’s magnificent.”
He laughed slightly, tugging at his collar as she complimented him. “Thank you, you’re quite magnificent as well,” he replied with a blush and a smile
She didn’t look like Gideon, probably because she smiled so much. Like sunshine on legs, she beamed, all but blinding him with her smile as she stared at him, “do you want to get lunch and go over this case with me?”
“I’d love to.”
taglist: (message me if you want to be added or removed)
@shemarmooresfedora @spencers-dria @spookyspence @reidsfish @manuosorioh @mochionly @samuel-de-champagne-problems @jswessie187 @k-k0129 @calm-and-doctor @blanchardsbk
#spencer reid#spencer reid smut#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x you#spencer reid self insert#spencer reid request#criminal minds smut#criminal minds imagine#intro to cm#mindhunter#wendy carr#peggy carr
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That’s Not Some Girl, That’s My Sister
TW: Abuse, physical injuries
Request:
I noticed you wrote Spencer X Sister!Reader. I was wondering if you could write a Penelope Garcia X Little!Sister!Reader. When their parents died Y/N was just born so she was put into foster care because Garcia couldn’t care for her. Garcia visits her every chance they get and they keep in touch 24/7. What Garcia doesn’t know is that Y/N is being abused at her foster home. When she turns 16 it gets so bad that she can barely move. One day she walks into the bau bloodied and bruised... (1/?) Morgan notices her, (The team doesn’t know she exists) and is like, “Hey kid you alright?” She drops to the floor and Garcia comes out to prep the team for a case and sees her on the floor. She drops her papers and runs over, holding her close. The team, who don’t know Y/N come out and ask what’s wrong and Morgan says that some kid walked in bleeding. Garcia gets defensive and says, “She’s not some kid, she’s my sister and her name is Y/N” They bring her to the hospital and... (2/3) and Garcia does her magic to get her foster parents arrested and she adopts her. And then the whole team welcomes her and it’s super fluffy ending? Sorry this was so long. Thank you so much❤️ If you don’t want to do this request you can delete it, sorry about that :) (3/3)
Note: Remember how I said there would be no fics tonight because I have school in the morning and didn’t do homework? Well, I lied. Please feel free to send me more requests! To those who already have, just know that I am working on ALL of them. Also, realizing now that I didn’t exactly stick to this prompt regarding the part where Y/N walks in and Garcia sees her, but hopefully it is still okay!!!
Penelope Garcia x Sister!Reader
()()()()()()
It wasn’t so much that Penelope Garcia had kept you a secret, but that you had never come up in conversation. Never once had anyone asked if the tech goddess had siblings. The team never found it their business to question after knowing the water of your parents. She also believed that the less they knew, the safer you were from the criminals that the analyst helped to catch.
Unbeknownst to her, however, this was far from the truth.
You never knew your parents like your sister did. You had just been born, and Penelope was deemed unable to care for you, you had no other family, so you wound up in foster care. You’d gone from house to house, family to family, but no matter where you were, you were always in contact with your elder sister. You were allowed to visit each other regularly, and those visits were the only thing you looked forward to. The only times you felt safe.
You were actually just leaving a visit for lunch with Penelope and walking towards her as you passed by a large building.
“Y/N, I didn’t even realized we walked by, but this is where I work!” the blonde said with a smile.
“Really? The FBI is just out here?” you asked.
“Pretty much.” she replied, and then her eyes grew wide and a gasp escaped her lips, “Oh my goodness, Y/N, you should visit sometime.”
“Finally!” you exclaimed, “I have ALWAYS wanted to visit, but didn’t want to invite myself.” your sister laughed.
“I haven’t really told them about you. I was never really sure how, but it seems like a good enough time now that you’re 16.” As you stepped closer and closer to the car, your mood began to drop, not knowing what pain would face you at home this time. You figured you could tell Penelope, but you’d been in many abusive foster homes, the most they would do is just move you to another one, if anything at all, and you could never ask your sister to take you in as her responsibility. From what she’s said, her job is very stressful, and you figured you would just add to that.
It wasn’t long before you were at your doorstep waving goodbye. Sighing, you turned and creaked open he door that led straight to your living hell. Joseph, your foster father, was on his stingy recliner, bottles of various different alcohols surrounded him. He himself, however, was asleep. You hated him. You could not wait for the day that you were set free from this place, the day you could finally fight him back. The man was a drunk, and a violent one at that. And even then, it’s nowhere near as bad than when he was sober. He knew how to hurt more when he was thinking straight. You tried to tiptoe around him to get to your room, but knocked something over, waking him up. Your heart genuinely stopped. You knew what would happen next.
The greasy man woke, and both of you locked eyes as he slowly sat up.
“Now, what the hell did I tell you about making noise?” he slurred loudly as he approached you, “Huh, brat?”
“I’m sorry, sir, it was an accident, it won’t happen again.” you said nervously. It was then that you both looked down at what had fell, and it was a glass decoration, which had now shattered into pieces. You knew you were in for it in that moment.
And Joseph didn’t hesitate. He hit you across the face, knocking you to the ground with your arm landing on some of the glass. You screamed out in pain, which resulted with more violence from the man standing over you.
“Clean it up!” he screamed, “Right now!” you tried to get up to get the broom, but he shoved you back down.
“With your hands.” he said. You looked up at him, tears in your eyes, when he put his foot on the top of your head, pushing your face down. Small shards cut up your cheek. You began to pick up pieces of the glass, one cutting you every now and then. Joseph kicked or punched every so often when he thought you were not doing a good enough job. By the end, you could barely move. You were bleeding everywhere, Joseph had knocked the wind out of you, hit and punched and kicked in any area he could have. At this point, you really thought you were going to die. And for a split second, you were almost relieved by the thought.
Eventually, Joseph passed out again on his recliner while you laid motionless on the floor nearby. It was then that you decided. You didn’t care what happened to you next, but you were not coming back to this house.
()()()()()()
How you even made it to the building your sister pointed out to you earlier was beyond you. It had taken you so long to move your body there that it was late at night now. You moved swiftly through the building, and reading the signs with the departments and their floors, you spotted the BAU. How nobody spotted you was also surprising. This was, after all, an FBI building, and you were a 16 year old girl who could barely stay conscious, bleeding from every pore and bruised at every inch.
The elevator brought you to a set of glass doors. There were desks everywhere, but most were empty. It seemed as though the room at the top of the small set of stairs was having a meeting, though, and you thought maybe Penelope was there. You hoped so badly that she was there. You got blood on the handle opening the door.
A man turned around from a coffee machine at the sound of your entering. He dropped his cup quickly and ran to you.
“Hey, kid? You alright?” he questioned, knowing that you obviously were not. You felt everything slipping away from you in that moment, and the world around you went dark.
‘
()()()()()()
“Guys? Get out here, now!” Morgan yelled as he fell with you to the floor, getting your blood on his shirt and his hands. Your whole team came rushing out of the room where Garcia had been briefing a case.
“What happened?” Hotch asked, practically jumping the stairs.
“I don’t know, this girl just came in and just passed out like this.” Morgan replied. Garcia had been behind Spencer, and when she stepped around him, her whole world was destroyed.
“Morgan!” she screamed, “That’s not some girl, that’s my sister, and her name is Y/N! Oh my god.” she ran to your unconscious body, dropping papers and a remote, and fell to her knees to hold you close. Spencer, even though he knew you had only just fell unconscious, walked over and put two fingers to your neck to check for a pulse, and was quite relieved when he found one.
“Call an ambulance,” Garcia sobbed, “please. Someone please.”
“An ambulance coming here would take too long given the traffic. It doesn’t seem to be fatal, let’s take her in one of the SUVs” Spencer suggested. Garcia nodded.
Morgan picked you up, JJ and Emily helped Garcia to the car, while Spencer drove since he would know the fastest route. Rossi stayed behind. You were asleep in the hospital for hours due to the fact that they kept you under in order to remove all the glass shards hidden throughout your skin. Your eyes and arms and torso were bruised heavily, but thankfully nothing was broken.
You were met with a group of people you’d never seen before when you woke up. Searching around the room you realized you were in a hospital bed, and soon enough remembered what brought you there.
“Huh?” was all you said. Penelope shot up instantly, smiling at you with tears in her eyes.
“Oh my god, Y/N, you’re awake. What happened to you?” she cried. You blinked for a few seconds.
“Garcia, she just woke up, she might not be able to talk about it, yet.” JJ reminded. It was quiet for a moment, until you spoke again.
“Joseph.” you said. You were waking up a little more now, pain spread through your body slowly and you winced with every move. Trying to sit up, you were quickly, but softly, pushed back down by a man in a black t-shirt.
“No, kid, you need to rest.” he said, “Who’s this Joseph? I just want to have a little chat.”
“My foster father.” you sighed. Everybody’s face in the room dropped, especially Penelope’s upon finding out you weren’t safe at home anymore.
“Y/N. . . “ she sobbed, “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t want to bother you with it.” you shrugged, which send a chilling pain from your shoulder to the ends of your toes, and you groaned.
“Take it easy, kid.”
“Y/N M/N Garcia,” Penelope replied firmly, “You have not ever been, nor will you ever be a bother to me. Especially, ESPECIALLY, if you aren’t in a safe situation. I would do anything for you, Y/N. We’re getting you out of that house. When you’re in a dangerous situation don’t you ever think not to tell someone, Y/N.”
She thought for a moment, “In fact, we’re going to do something I should’ve done a long time ago. I’m going to adopt you. No more foster homes, we’ll be together more often, you’ll be safe.”
“Really?” you smiled.
“Yes, really. And we’re throwing Joseph in prison.” you’d never heard anger in Penelope’s voice like you were hearing right now. For a moment, you both cried together. You knew now that you should’ve mentioned it sooner, but that also you weren’t going to have to worry about it anymore. All the pain, it was going to go away. Not mentally, not completely yet, but you were never going to go home and be afraid of what would happen when you stepped through the door. Instead, you would be excited, for every laugh, every smile, every story, every memory that you were going to make with your sister.
“By the way,” you sniffed, “who are all these people?”
“Oh my god!” she exclaimed, “This is my team! That’s Spencer Reid, Aaron Hotchner, JJ, Emily Prentiss, and Derek Morgan.”
“You,” you pointed weakly at Morgan, “you’re the one who calls her ‘Baby Girl.’” the man laughed.
“The one and only.”
“And you,” you pointed at Spencer, “you’re the genius one right? The one that does magic. Tell me a fact.”
“Uh,” he thought for a second, “V616 is the closest back hole to planet Earth. It’s actually 3,000 light years away. Also, black holes warp time and space. If you put a clock in a black hole, but you stood outside of it, it would actually appear to be ticking slower.”
“Of course.” Morgan says, “Of course you would know that.”
“She asked.” the tall man shrugged with a smirk, “I’ve got plenty more of those, too. And yes, magic tricks.”
You turned toward JJ and Emily, “You guys are like, her best friends.”
The two nodded, “Wouldn’t want to be anyone else.” JJ replied. Lastly, you turned to Hotch.
“Boss.”
“Yes.” was all he said in response.
“Why are you all here though?” you asked, “You don’t even know me.”
All of them were quiet for a moment, trying to think of what to say, when Emily spoke up.
“Garcia’s family. So you’re family.” the rest of them seemed to agree. You smiled at your apparently newfound family, “Welcome to the family, Y/N.”
Although you ended up falling asleep from the drugs that they gave you for the pain, the next few days consisted of getting to know Penelope’s team. Spencer spent hours telling you things and doing magic tricks, while Morgan, JJ, and Emily told you stories of your sister while she sat and laughed. Hotch visited a few times here and there to check up and say hello.
You began to realize soon enough that a new chapter was about to begin, one without abuse, without Joseph, and with your sister that you looked up to more than ever, and her team that treated you like their own. In the beginning, you were told you might not have enough evidence on Joseph to get him arrested, which all of you found to be complete bull. You were completely laid up in a hospital because of him, but in the end, your tech genius sister “accidentally” happened across some illegal files embedded in his computer, along with multiple abuse complaints about him that just so happened to get the court to allow you to live with Penelope, and Joseph in prison.
#Penelope Garcia#garcia#penelope garcia x reader#Penelope garcia x sister reader#criminal minds#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds x sister reader#criminal minds x y/n#penelope garcia x y/n#spencer reid#reid#derek morgan#morgan#Jennifer Jereau#jj#emily prentiss#prentiss#aaron hotchner#hotch#criminal minds imagine#imagine#oneshot#onshots#criminal minds onshots
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infirmity.
Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral Reader
a/n: part four of our 100 arc, covering 5x02, haunted! I forgot how much i love this episode, so i really leaned into this one. it’s a labor of love!! i can’t wait to hear what you all think (i crave feedback and affection) and if you reblog, i’d love to see your cheeky lil thoughts in the tags!!
an ajf fic arc that happily stands on its own!
one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight | nine | ten | eleven
words: 4.3k
warnings: language, bad decisions
summary: “a friend should bear his friend’s infirmities” - william shakespeare, julius caesar.
masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | requests closed!
You knock on the door at 8:30 sharp. Almost thirty seconds pass before he answers, and you note the hand on his holster as he opens the door.
“Hey.”
“Hi,” you chirp. “Ready to go?”
He turns, gathering his things. “What do we know about this case in Kentucky?”
Thrown a little by the lack of greeting, you follow him into the apartment. The sight of the Foyet files on his desk aren’t foreign to you, nor are they a surprise. They’ve been there every time you came over during his leave (in fact, you’ve sat on them more than once), so why you expected them to go away once he was back you had no idea.
“Um, no connection between Call and his victims. They’re canvassing, but no sign of him so far.”
“Start with his recent history. Find the stressor.” His voice is flat, impassive, and you frown.
He was just getting better…
You’re about to head back toward the door when -
“Don’t move.”
Right. The alarm.
He stands by to arm it. “Ready?”
“Are you?”
+++
You arrive at the tarmac, Hotch in the passenger seat of your car. He looks a little resigned, but straightens and takes a breath before he opens the door, settling into his role as he steps out and straightens his suit jacket.
It’s always a little funny to watch him transform. You’re honored you get to see it, even if he’s in rough shape.
Especially then.
You climb the stairs and follow him in, settling in your usual place.
“Good to see you,” Dave says as Aaron scoots down the aisle. It makes you smile.
“You, too.”
Aaron gets settled and you shift, trying not to hover but finding it difficult to be separated from him after his weeks of absence. He greets the rest of the team, exchanging pleasantries and checking in with Reid about his knee.
“Any other attacks?”
JJ shakes her head, while Spencer elaborates. “Call’s proven hard to track. He’s never had a driver's license so he’s probably still on foot.”
“Or public transportation,” Emily notes.
You hum. “He wouldn’t take the bus. His face is everywhere.”
“Has anyone found a stressor?” You weren’t sure if Aaron’s brusque affect was going to continue once you made it to the plane, but his tone just about answers your question.
Stepping back into authority quickly, there, Aaron.
“He just lost his job,” Garcia supplies. “He’s worked at a factory since 1990. Made appliances since forever and not a single promotion.”
Derek tilts his head. “That’s a long time to be bitter.”
“Or he doesn’t care?”
JJ looks at Spencer and shakes her head. “Not if he’s got a family to feed.”
“Actually, he’s of the hermit variety as far as I can tell. He’s got no one. No wife, no kids, no parents.” You watch Garcia’s eyes flicker around the screen as she talks to you, doing what she does best.
“Nothing to live for.” Derek’s looking a little too pointedly at Aaron for your taste, but your evaluation is interrupted.
“So why hasn’t he killed himself yet?”
Your brain sputters at Aaron’s offhand delivery. “What?”
“Sprees usually end in suicide. If he’s got nothing to live for, why hasn’t he ended it?”
The energy in the room grows uncomfortable, fast. Aaron’s voice is still flat - you might go so far as to say it sounds dead, but that inspires a kind of heavy sullenness in your chest you’d rather not subject yourself to.
You wish Haley was around for no other reason but to kick his ass.
You’re thankful for Spencer when he answers Hotch’s question. “Because he isn’t finished, yet. We know he has displaced anger. He took it out on the first victim.”
“Well,” Aaron continues, “the stock boy represents someone. We need to know who.”
You meet Derek’s eyes and you can tell he’s trying to read you - trying to see if you’re as concerned as he is. You don’t give him the satisfaction.
+++
Later, you corner Morgan on the plane before landing, keeping your voice low. The case is in your lap so there’s a valid distraction when you need one.
“What’s wrong with you?”
He stops and turns. “I thought Hotch was cleared to drive.”
“He is.”
“Then why did you pick him up this morning?”
You shrug. “I wanted to.” His eyes bore into the side of your head and you look up with an exasperated huff. “What?”
He sighs. “He’s only had a month off.”
“Well,” you say, aware that you’re being pedantic before you even get there, “thirty-four days. That’s a little more than a month.”
His stare is withering, but you’re impervious. “And you think that’s long enough?”
“Are you asking me as his coworker or as his friend?”
“Is there a difference?”
You shrug. “Maybe.” Yes. “But if you don’t think he’s had enough time, you should tell him.”
He scoffs. “No thanks. I like my job.”
“You like him more.” A little smile crosses your face. “Though, I know you don’t like to think so.”
“No. I like you.” Derek corrects. “He also happens to like you, so I tolerate him for your benefit.”
“Much appreciated.” You return to your work, but Derek’s eyes linger. You don’t look up as you ask, “What?”
“What if he has PTSD?”
Still writing, you answer with a general air of nonchalance. “He was evaluated.”
“Oh, come on. We wrote those questions. Hotch knows exactly -“
You slam your pen down and lean back with your arms crossed. You draw Spencer's eyes and lower your voice again. “So, what? Are you going to pick at me until you get me to say something you want me to say?” You let out a sardonic chuff, settling back to work. “If that’s the case, you’re gonna be here a while.” You tip your head a little toward the little table by the window. “Your coffee’s getting cold.”
You admittedly feel a little bad for being short with him, but everything seems to be testing your patience today.
And if you’re honest, you’re worried about Aaron, too.
After a few minutes of work in silence, you call out to him again. There’s the smallest of apologies in your voice. “Derek?”
He looks at you, dark eyes open and yielding - concerned and forgiving. “Yeah?”
“He’s back because he has to be. He needs to know we’re here for him.”
“He knows that.”
You offer him a small smile. “Don’t let him forget it.” You pause, your head wavering a little bit as your tone turns a touch facetious. “I can’t do all the heavy lifting around here.”
You get a laugh out of him - just a little one - and it’s enough. “Don’t push it, kid. I remember when you were dead weight.”
You roll your eyes.
That’s enough, for now.
+++
Even your seemingly-endless patience with Aaron rapidly wanes as you spend more time at the crime scene. It’s frustrating.
“He was on an antipsychotic?” You ask with a little frown.
The pharmacist nods. “Well, that’s why I wanted him to calm down. He’s been off of them at least a month, now.”
“And when were you going to tell us this?” Aaron asks, harsh and sharp.
You look at him, your frown deepening.
What the fuck is that attitude?
“He’s armed, he’s delusional. Who’s his doctor?” Hotch’s tone grows even pointier, somehow, as he pushes harder.
“I don’t remember - my computer…” She gestures behind the desk, where the computer has been fried by a bullet.
“Great. That’s great.” He walks away, already making a call.
“Excuse us,” you say in an attempt to recover. Derek echoes you and you try to avoid running after Hotch as he strides down the aisle.
Long-legged asshole. Slow down.
“Hotch,” you call. He doesn’t listen.
“Call JJ and tell her about the meds.” He’s still walking. You’ve caught up.
Derek chimes in, gesturing back at the pharmacist. “This is not her fault.”
Aaron turns on him. “Morgan, he’s in a psychotic break. It changes everything.”
“You want to talk about this?” Derek asks, taking another step closer.
Squaring up to Derek’s shoulder, you’re ready to pull them apart if they get really heated.
Wouldn’t be the first time.
In some ways, Morgan’s admission on the plane was truer than he let on. You are the link between Derek and Aaron, almost like a balm. You see things in them that they can’t see in each other. It helps.
With a pang, you think of Haley, for some reason.
You miss her.
“No.” Aaron’s interruption is sharp and it startles you out of your thoughts. “I want to find him - Garcia,” he turns, continuing on his warpath forward, “he’s been off his antipsychotic for a month. What else did you miss?”
Your mouth drops open and Derek’s about to deck Aaron while his back is turned. You push in front of Derek, getting between them to give him a chance to cool off. The last thing you want is to handle more wound dressings - for either one of them.
Aaron hangs up and walks out after what you imagine is a rather unilluminating update from Penelope. You turn, putting your hand on Derek’s shoulder and looking him in the eye.
Still think he’s alright? His eyes ask.
You grit your teeth. I don’t know.
+++
The psychiatrist and patient lay dead on the floor, Call nowhere in sight. Derek directs the local officers to check the perimeter, just in case.
You look at Hotch, who still doesn’t look completely checked in, himself.
Or maybe he looks too checked in?
I don’t know.
You’d be lying if you said his behavior didn’t freak you out. Though he’s standing beside you, you miss him.
Come back to me.
You miss the man who pliantly sat under your hands as you washed his wounds and brought him takeout and forced him to take naps in the middle of the afternoon on a weekday.
You miss the man who fought you for the remote and stole far too many of your fries, who would change the channel if you made the mistake of going to the bathroom on a commercial break.
That man was with you as late as Saturday. Returning has brought something else out in him, the part of him that spent (often very) late nights looking for Foyet has risen to the forefront.
“We’re too late.”
Before the rest of you can do anything, Aaron leaves the room, pushing past Dave in his haste to leave.
Emily calls after him, but he’s long gone down the hallway. They look at you.
All you can do is shake your head with a downturned curve of your mouth.
+++
After a little while, you go downstairs and find Hotch outside. Before you can say anything -
“I should have seen the blinking on the video.”
You huff at him. “Hotch, it could have been a nervous tic. You couldn’t have known - none of the records were available, yet.”
“But it wasn’t a tic. It’s a classic sign of long-term antipsychotic use, and I missed it.”
You step in front of him, squarely meeting his eyes. “We all missed it.”
He’s got another pessimistic jab that you choose to ignore just before Emily and Dave arrive with news from Garcia.
Oh, Aaron.
+++
The officer huffs. “I don’t care why he took him.”
Aaron had, once again, escalated the situation with local police. Tensions are high, and you only hope he can get his shit together at some point. “You should.”
Goddamn it, Aaron.
He continues, advancing on the police captain. “Call’s memory is no longer suppressed. He’s reinventing his past and unless we understand how, we’re not going to find either of them.”
“Well, I’m not gonna just sit around and speculate.”
It’s an old-fashioned Western standoff, now.
Who’s Clint Eastwood?
Well, Hotch has the looks but -
Quit.
Fine.
“Then don’t.”
The captain turns to you, Emily, and Dave. “You don’t think we should chase him either?”
“We need to get ahead of Call,” Dave answers evenly.
The captain looks at Aaron once more before storming off. The rest of you approach Hotch, and Emily’s a little frustrated when she reminds him, “There’s a kid missing.”
“They don’t need the extra manpower.”
You squint at him. “Since when?”
“If we had studied Foyet’s initial crimes -”
Oh for the love of fuck.
“- we would have known that a survivor didn’t make sense.”
“What does he have to do with this?”
Great question, Emily.
“All we had to do was stop and look at Foyet’s history. But we didn’t, and we lost two couples and a bus full of people. I am not making that mistake again.” He leaves the three of you stunned in his wake. After a moment, you follow him.
You always do.
+++
“Let’s go.”
You’ve got the address to the unsub’s home and you take the car with Aaron, the rest of the team following behind you.
He drives fast, but that’s nothing new. He throws the siren and floors it. You call SWAT yourself, getting Derek prepared for staging.
When you get out of the car, you throw your vest on, helping Emily with the straps across her shoulders before she can reach them themselves.
“Prentiss,” Aaron says, putting his earwig in. “Check in with the lieutenant, see if there’s anything we can use.”
She nods. “Yes, sir.”
“You good?” You ask, looking over at him.
“Yeah, I’m good.”
You throw your head to the side, and he takes your flank as you get closer to Emily. Her briefing with this particular lieutenant could go sideways, but you don’t want to leave him feeling trapped.
“...The kid’s in there. We got this. Tactical teams are covering the exits. He’s still focused on the old man.”
Emily squints, adjusting her comm. “For now, but we’re gonna have to figure out the safest way to get that kid out.”
“I’ve got a team in the back and one on the way. We’re going to infiltrate.”
“You do that and someone else dies.” The balance of firm and collaborative rests delicately on her tone. She’s doing well.
“Either Call or a child murder. Flip a coin.”
His tone frustrates you, but you leave Emily to her devices, checking your magazines for the third time. Your sidearm is in place, as is your backup.
“It doesn’t have to end like that. We get a confession out of Jarvis and he goes away, and Call gets his answers. No one else has to die.” She pauses, and a streak of white flashes in your peripheral. “Hotch!”
You whirl, ready to sprint after him as he walks decisively past the rest of you, past the gate, and into the house. After a moment’s hesitation, you make a break for it. A wall of arms stops you, and you know Derek’s behind you when you hear, “What the hell is he doing?”
No vest...Is he even carrying his gun?
“Let him go.”
You turn on Dave, your face plastered with fear and fury. “What do you mean let him go. Rossi -”
“I’m not letting him go in there solo.” Derek pushes against Dave again, but to your surprise, he’s locked in tight.
“We have to trust him.”
That cools Derek off, but not you. You thrash, freeing yourself from one of the local cops. “The hell we do.”
“Kid - wait, no.” The roles reverse, and Derek catches up to you and locks you in his arms before you can breach the perimeter. Your elbows don’t land against his vest, but you sure try. “You’ll get him killed.”
There’s only stress and silence as you stop struggling. All you can do is wait.
Derek keeps his arm around you, but you almost feel like the contact is for both of you. You take deep breaths, trying to slow your heart rate. It’s through the roof.
“What’s he doing?” Emily asks into her mic.
Dave leans into his comm. “Stalling.”
You can almost feel Derek’s jaw tightening. “He has nothing to lose.”
He has everything to lose.
You have everything to lose.
Don’t be a hero, Aaron. Don’t do anything stupid.
You hope that he can hear you somehow.
Too late.
Hotch appears in the window, followed by the boy.
There’s a quick SWAT conversation in your ear.
“Do you have the shot?”
“Negative, negative.”
He’s blocking the shot.
Goddamn you, Aaron. Goddamn you.
“Bringing the boy out,” a faceless voice on the radio says. The hostage runs down off the porch and you catch a glimpse of Aaron before he disappears behind the door again.
You turn your head a touch, keeping your eyes on the door. “Get him out of there.”
Dave shakes his head. “That’s his call.”
Your body is wound tighter than a coil and you’re not sure if you’re ready to storm in there or just start walking home.
There’s a gunshot, and you’re out of there like a bat out of hell. You launch yourself over the short fence and attach yourself to the first SWAT agent you see, remembering your training at the last moment.
You breach the house and find Aaron cuffing Darin, whose father is dead in the armchair in front of him. Your jaw has never been tighter.
Once you confirm that he is in fact still alive and still only has nine holes in him, you turn on your heel and you storm out of the house. You don’t stop until you’re leaning on the front of one of the cars, trying to catch your breath. Your hands shake and you don’t trust your knees to hold you up.
The relief wars with something hot and unpleasant, leaving you more exhausted than you’ve been in weeks.
You keep your head turned away from Aaron as he approaches you. It’s petty, but you also don’t want him to see the fear on your face.
He calls you with a sigh in his voice and it finally ignites the fear into anger.
“I can’t fucking believe you,” you spit. Your voice isn’t loud, but it certainly carries. JJ’s eyes flicker to you from the other side of the yard. “What kind of stunt are you trying to pull? Are you trying to get yourself killed?”
His jaw tightens. “Let’s not do this here.”
Your brow draws across your eyes and your mouth opens, indignant. “Let’s not do this here? You’re fucking kidding me.”
In his current state, nothing is off the table. His temper is running short and you know you’re capable of pushing him until he breaks. It hasn’t happened yet, but today might be it.
Much to your surprise, a sigh leaves him, and he knows he’s stepped in it. “It was stupid. I’m sorry.”
You scoff, shaking your head.
His remorse only stokes your anger. Go figure.
“You’re sorry? You’re sorry. You could have died, Hotch. What you did was so beyond protocol I don’t even know if I should start with the necessity of your life because we need you as our unit chief or the importance of your safety as my friend -” You cut yourself off and look away from him, frustrated you even got that far.
He has nothing to say to that. You’re completely right. The guilt might as well be written across his face in Sharpie.
His absence fucked with you, to say the least. It felt awful, empty, in the field without him. And then when you were home - well, back at the apartment, he was only ever in pain.
Overall, your anxiety regarding his health and safety is riding high.
Much to your frustration, your eyes water, and your lower lip shakes - angry tears an ever-present threat. Your arms cross over your chest. “I can’t even look at you right now.”
He reaches out for your arm, but you throw him off before he can make contact, turning your head. You stare at the ground, watching him flounder out of the corner of your eye.
“Go. Go do your fucking job, Hotch.” His nickname is acid in your mouth. It feels like a punishment, a lash of a whip. He doesn’t move, and you turn on him, meeting his guilty brown eyes with your flinty ones. “Go. Make the arrest. They’re waiting on you.” You throw your chin to Derek and Emily, who are indeed waiting for him on the porch with the unsub.
With another heavy sigh, he turns and rejoins the rest of your team.
You stay where you are, directing coroner and local law enforcement personnel to relevant staging areas as the crime scene is processed and handled. Aaron’s eyes try to find yours, but you avoid them, focusing on someone, anyone else with crisp professionalism that hardly belies your fear.
You’ve never been so angry in your life. Even if you have, you can’t remember it feeling this wretched.
+++
He sits beside you on the plane once you’re up in the air and leans forward with his elbows on his knees. The rest of the team sleeps scattered around the cabin, but you suspect that at least one of them is faking it, waiting for some kind of spectacle or spectacular blowup between the two of you.
You haven’t spoken to Aaron since leaving the crime scene. You drove back to the precinct with Emily and Dave, staying close to JJ and Spencer while you packed your things. There’s a part of you that feels bad for creating what Strauss would call a “hostile work environment,” but the other part can’t bring itself to care.
You can’t even begin to articulate the fear that coursed through you as you waited for him outside that house. You couldn’t begin to explain the extent of your fear, but after the stabbing and the removal of Haley and Jack from your lives, the prospect of losing him in the field was beyond unbearable.
It’s frustrating to feel so comforted by his proximity while you’re still so angry with him. The familiarity of it all hardly blunts your anger. If anything, the relief at having him back at your side sharpens your anger into something that scares you.
The impossibility of it is beyond measure. You’ve known for some time now, but this is the first you’re willing to admit it.
I love him.
Fuck.
You love him. You love his son. You love his wife.
You love the weird look he gets on his face when he has to say “penetration” while he’s delivering a profile. You love the way he tries not to smile when Emily beats Spencer at chess. You love the way he twiddles with pens when he’s thinking or nervous or both. You love that each of his smiles feel like a gift just for you.
There’s nothing you don’t love about him.
Except, of course, the way he, with profound idiocy, endangered his life today for no particular reason in addition to his generally asshole-ish behavior.
“I would say I’m sorry, but I’m sure you know that.”
You do.
He waits on you, quiet and still.
You take a deep breath, finally looking at him. “You scared the hell out of me.”
He nods, his jaw flexing.
“Don’t do it again.”
He blinks once, slowly. You know he can’t promise that, but you appreciate his acknowledgment nevertheless. There’s quiet for a moment.
“Aaron…” You look at him, nothing but concern in your tone.
He shakes his head. “Don’t.”
“I was just going to say…” You swallow, trying to find better words but coming up short. “We’ll get him.”
+++
Derek’s voice echoes down to the bullpen as you finish up the last few pieces of your paperwork. “I will not stand by and watch this man kill himself.”
Aaron’s door is closed as he works. You’re not sure if you’re thankful for that, or if you’d rather he hear it. You can’t really hear Dave - not that you’d want to, you’re almost as pissed at him as you are at Aaron - but it doesn’t matter. You know what he has to say.
Derek’s voice drops lower than you can hear. Dave drops his head.
Moments later, Derek flies back down the stairs, grabs his jacket, and takes his leave with a cursory goodbye thrown in your direction. Dave returns to his desk and Aaron’s door finally opens.
You look up as his lights turn off, gathering your things at your desk. With a little sigh that looks a bit like defeat, he stops at your desk. The smugness doesn’t completely leave your tone. “Need a ride?”
Of course, he does. “Please.”
You rise and walk to the elevators together. In the silence, you tell him, “I’m still really mad at you.”
A sigh. “I know.”
+++
You walk him upstairs and take care of the alarm while he removes his suit jacket and throws it over the couch.
“Do you think Call’s gonna be okay?” You ask, still facing the alarm.
“I don’t know.”
“He got his answers,” you note, turning to him. “He killed the man who haunted him.”
His eyes are fixed on a spot on the carpet. “And what else is there?”
“Years of torture.” You both know you’re not talking about Call anymore, but it’s nice to pretend. It gives you the opportunity to say things you wouldn’t - shouldn’t - say to him. “Fear. Grief.”
“Think he’ll get over that?”
“How could he?” A humorless smile pulls at one corner of your mouth. “But at least he doesn't feel like he’s alone.”
He finally meets your eyes. “He doesn’t have anyone.” I don’t have anyone, his brow says.
“He has Tommy. He’s not alone.”
You have me. You’re not alone.
His brows pull low over his eyes, and you take another opportunity as it comes. “Do you want me to stay again tonight?”
“No, I’m alright.” He takes a little breath and you round the corner, pouring him a couple fingers of whiskey before making a slow, purposeful trek across the room. “Thank you,” he says, taking it.
“Of course. Anytime.” Now, you both know you aren’t talking about the drink.
Nevertheless, you pat your pockets for your keys, phone, and various federal paraphernalia, finding them all where they belong. “I should head out, then. Call if you need anything.”
He nods, watching you with quiet eyes as you close and lock the door behind you.
+++
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The Bones (Reid Series) Part 1
Summary: Almost a year after Maeve’s death, Spencer reaches out to the recipients of Maeve’s donated organs to reconnect with his lost love. However, when the receiver of her heart, Reader, doesn’t write back, Spencer goes on a poorly-motivated mission to find her.
Playlist: “The Bones” by Maren Morris & Hozier (BONUS: song includes major foreshadowing)
A/N: There is an OC in this story because to me, writing “(y/n)” over and over again cheapens the story and doesn’t flow well. It was a personal decision, and to anyone it sincerely bothers, I’m sure there’s a way you can insert your own name instead. This fic is also inspired by “Things We Know By Heart” by Jessi Kirby.
Category: Series, Soft Angst, Eventual Smut + NSFW content*
Pairing: Spencer Reid POV x Fem!OC
Content Warning: allusions to death, mourning, loss, recovery, arrhythmia (this is an intro chapter, so it’ll get more interesting from here I promise)
Word Count: 2.2k
This will be a multi-part series.
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
It all started that first autumn after Maeve’s death - just five weeks past a year since I parted with her. I was absentmindedly reading when, rather out of the blue, Mary Donovan called to inform me about a Mrs. Rachel Larsen.
Although we didn’t learn her actual name until later, she was first known to us as the recipient of Maeve’s liver. Not a single one of the three of us - Maeve’s parents and me - had expected a recipient to be in contact with us. That inability to predict such an event was caused by my neglect to remember Maeve was an organ donor. It wasn’t particularly relevant in the grand scheme of things, and for that forgetfulness, I was truly ashamed, but after reading Rachel Larsen’s letter together with the Donovans, it all came back to me.
Every single thing.
You see, despite the anonymity of the person writing to us, it was as if I could actually feel Maeve’s soul coming alive again, as strange as that sounds.
She was still here with me ... in some form.
Later that night, when I would return to an empty apartment, I would wonder why I hadn’t thought of reaching out to the recipients before. Even though I’d already started writing a thank you letter back to Rachel, the thirst for more of Maeve became increasingly insatiable.
While I did have fond memories of her to live by, I couldn’t thrive off of them in the way that I did with that letter. Our only moments together worth reliving were those spent over the phone, a time when I didn’t even know what she looked like. But that letter from Rachel Larsen ... it was somehow more wholesome and pure than any memory of the living Maeve that I could cultivate.
You could say I was doing this to ease my mourning, meaning it should’ve made me feel better, but that didn’t stop the guilt from eating away at me piece by piece as I wrote letters to the rest of the recipients.
The Donovans had no idea I was doing this, but I reasoned to myself that they would appreciate the surprise. Though they were still undeniably riddled with grief, smiles embellished their sullen faces when they read about Rachel’s quality of life now with a new liver. So maybe, just maybe, hearing from the rest of the receivers would be good for us all. At least, that’s what I told myself.
In one of those rare moments when inspiration strikes and it courses through your veins at the speed of lightning, I found myself being more productive than I had been in nearly a year. By midnight, I’d successfully composed five letters, each dedicated to the receiver of one of Maeve’s major organs - none of which, though, included my identity.
Given the fragile process of contacting the transplant coordinators, getting consent forms, and premeeting counseling, it would be months, if not years, before I would be able to really speak with these faceless people. Nothing against Donor Family Services - I’m sure they do the best they can - but for me, their best wasn’t good enough. So instead, I enlisted the help of someone I knew could never let me down.
“Are you sure you want me to do this?” Penelope peered up at me from her seat, her pinky finger hesitantly hovering over the ‘enter’ button.
“Yes.”
With just one click, she discovered the addresses of each one of those faceless people. This singular operation, albeit somewhat unethical, was the final piece to my puzzle. All there was left to do now was send the letters to them, with the tenuous hope they might send one back.
Luckily for me, not a single recipient questioned how I managed to find them or why this process wasn’t being handled by Donor Family Services, but I suppose if they did wonder those things, they didn’t feel comfortable asking me. Especially not after they learned who I was in relation to their donor. I didn’t intend to guilt-trip anyone with what I wrote in my letters nor did I want to take advantage of anyone’s empathy, but how could you possibly make a foe out of your organ donor’s grieving boyfriend? Exactly - you can’t. So you don’t. Instead, you send an inviting letter back, telling me you’d love to meet. Which is what four of them did.
Only one person didn’t reply, and while an 80% success rate was great, I simply couldn’t let this one go. Trust me, I would have ... had it been any other organ.
For quite some time, I was the one with Maeve’s heart.
I just needed to see where it was now.
᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃
The heart has several definitions and corresponding connotations.
Scientifically speaking, the heart is a hollow muscular organ that pumps the blood through the circulatory system by rhythmic contraction and dilation. However, figuratively, the heart can be seen as the central or innermost part of something. The heart of a city, for example. But in literature, the heart is symbolic of love. It is often regarded as the source of all knowledge, which is where the comparison between the head and the heart comes from. The head operates logically, whereas the heart functions emotionally, but despite the rationality the head holds, the heart is what people advise you to listen to because it holds the ultimate truth.
The heart, because it is equipped with your truest feelings, supersedes any logic and reason the head might hold.
But you see, I only ever knew Maeve’s mind. I could understand the inner workings of it - I’d probably be able to navigate through her consciousness if I entered it given the fact that our intellect matched one another’s - and I shared nearly identical thought processes with her, but that was all that I ever knew.
And if that was how much knowledge she held in her head alone, then, undoubtedly, her heart held so much more.
Science defines the heart as an organ. Figurative language uses the heart to establish a focal point. Literature likens the heart to love. But I compare her heart to the ocean. Like the sea, Maeve’s heart was 80% undiscovered, and exploration was simply calling my name.
For that reason, and that reason alone, I couldn’t abandon my pursuit of it.
That’s not to say I wasn’t ashamed of this mission, though. If anything, shame for the man I had become in the face of Maeve’s death was the only feeling I was truly capable of anymore. Any other emotions were fleeting or insincere.
Unfortunately, that slimy, disgusting feeling was only amplified times ten when I found myself driving two hours and forty-five minutes to get to Virginia Beach.
No sane man would drive this far on a weekday for even their most prized possession, and yet here I was, exactly 180 miles away from home, seeking out someone who hadn’t had the courtesy to even write me back, let alone agree to meet with me. Who knows if she’d even give me the time of day.
She being Valerie.
“Valerie Elise Bishop was born on August 5th, 1988 in Henderson, Nevada, to parents Andrew and Sara, but when Valerie turned seventeen, she was diagnosed with arrhythmia,” Garcia explained to me over the phone on the car ride here. “It’s when-”
“When the electrical impulses that coordinate your heartbeats don't work properly, causing your heart to beat too fast, too slow or irregularly,” I accidentally cut in. Realizing I interrupted Garcia, I brought her back into the conversation by asking, “I know there are more than 3 million cases per year in the U.S, but isn’t it usually common for ages 60 or older?”
“You are most certainly correct, Boy Wonder. It is more common in ages 60 and older, however, her maternal grandmother passed away from arrhythmia, so the family history increased the likelihood.”
At the sound of this news, I had to pull the car over and physically stop just so I could grasp the weight of what I was really doing.
“In Henderson, Nevada ... maternal grandmother passed away ... family history increased the likelihood …” Garcia’s voice rang in my head.
It was then that I came face to face with the gravity of reality.
Valerie wasn’t just a faceless name or a recipient of Maeve’s heart, she was a person. And her humanity only became more apparent to me the more Penelope spoke.
For god’s sake, she and I grew up in the same state. She and I saw the same sunsets from the same little corner of the earth. She drove down the same highways and byways - we might’ve even crossed paths at one point or another! Not to mention that she lost her grandmother to the same disease that she was suffering from, and if there was one thing consistent about arrhythmia, it was very likely she’d been living with it for decades, if not her entire lifetime. It’s a long term disease that takes years to improve but only seconds to kill. All it would take is just one irregular beat, and she’d be dead. How can you possibly live with that constant fear looming over your head?
She is a person. I had to remind myself. Not just a means to explore more of Maeve.
“Hey, Garcia,” I turned the car back on. “I don’t think I can do this anymore.”
“What do you mean?” I could just feel panic begin to rise in Garcia.
“No, I’m not talking about life, I’m talking about this.” Though she couldn’t see, I grandly gestured to the location, the car, and the passenger seat that was cluttered with files on Valerie. “I don’t feel right invading her privacy like this. It’s just selfish.”
I wasn’t the only one mourning something here.
“Are you sure?” Penelope clarified. Which was ironic considering she was the one who was unsure of doing any of this, to begin with. What was I thinking? I shouldn’t have dragged Garcia into this. Something as immoral as this was totally against her character, but she did it anyway because her loyalty to her friends conquers all.
Like I said, my shame multiplied times ten. If not for Valerie, then certainly for Penelope.
“Yeah, I’m sure. I’m heading home.”
“Okay,” She softly returned. “Be safe.”
“Oh, and Garcia?” I asked before ending the call. “Thanks.”
“Of course. Anything for you, Dr. Reid.”
By the time I ended the call, the sun was already setting - that’s how long I’d been on the road for. The nearly-three-hour drive I would have to make for the second time today meant I wouldn’t be home in time to beat the pitch-black sky, so considering I was already in for a long night, I made a little detour for the one thing I couldn’t go home without.
A piping hot cup of coffee.
I felt something as rewarding as caffeine was well deserved for the self-restraint I demonstrated minutes ago. And maybe it was my exhaustion, both mental and physical, that brought me to the near conclusion that I would truly let this go, but I was honestly feeling like I could accept this. An 80% acceptance rate. Not bad, right?
Though I was basically half-asleep while waiting for my coffee, I could not miss the barista when she said, “Valerie! Your order’s ready!”
What are the chances?
A jolt of energy surged through my body and brought me back to life, causing me to whip my head around at the slightest semblance of movement. On instinct, my gaze gravitated to the woman walking towards the front counter. My pull to her was so strong that even if I hadn’t studied file upon file on her that included pictures of what she looked like, I still would’ve recognized her in a heartbeat.
I just knew. That’s her.
I had no plan whatsoever for how I should approach this, and yet I still rose from my seat, motivated by nothing more than the single belief that I needed to.
Was this the universe telling me that I was meant to run into her after all? That I needed to meet the woman with an oceanic heart?
But when I finally got to where she was, she glided effortlessly past me, not paying any mind to my presence. Why would she though? To her, I was no one. To her, I was the faceless person.
“Excuse me!” I bolted to the front counter after realizing I might’ve just missed my opportunity. The barista, stunned and concerned, furrowed her brows while she waited for my question. “Is that girl a regular here?”
“Valerie?” She pointed in her direction, to which I nodded rapidly. “Oh, yeah. She comes in here all the time. She works just across the street.”
When I came to this coffee shop, it was simply by chance. It wasn’t even the closest cafe, but it was the one I chose to go to for some inexplicable reason.
I’d like to think it was fate. I was meant to be here after all. Because right behind me stood the storefront of a building I had only briefly read about in Valerie’s file.
The Bones,
Art Gallery & Studio
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
PART 2 HERE!
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it was a pleasure to burn (spencer reid x fem bau!reader)
genre: fluff i think even though the name is v angsty LOL it’s a literal screenplay with the amout of dialogue i wrote LMAO so idk
summary: a particularly rough and disturbing case gets to reader, and spencer and reader are brought together by this.
words: just about 6k (my longest fic ahhHH)
warnings: typical criminal minds gore and violence just up a notch, they get on a plane at the end, somebody gets ~shot~, somebody gets ~bonked~, cursing, mentions of reid’s addiction, and i think that’s it. also the reader wears reading glasses but that’s the only predetermined factor of appearance. btw i don’t think i used any pronouns in this but i apologize if i’m wrong.
a/n: LMFAO i was outside awhile ago celebrating litha with a nice lil hike and i saw a butterfly and i had just started watching cm and was like hMMm... killer who’s obsessed with symmetry??!1??!? y Es. enjoy 😼 EDIT: THERE IS SO MANY PLOT HOLES OMG FBREHJBFHEJFRE IM RBFBRE
🂦∙🂦∙🂦
Present Day, Central Park, New York
“Aren’t they just stunning?” The unsub spoke, keeping her eyes trained on the butterfly sitting happily on her finger. The brightly colored creature fluttered off her hand that was dripping scarlet, flying around her curly head of brown hair. Her, formerly white, blood-stained dress flowed around her as she followed it, watching in awe as it soared about. She giggled, plopping down on the grass in the middle of a circle of her victim’s pale, lifeless bodies, all of them with ironically morbid butterflies resting upon the frail skin of the corpses.
“Aren’t they, agents?”
She slanted her green eyes, gripping the grass a little harder. I flicked my tongue over my lips nervously, looking over to the lanky man on my left. He simply shrugged, just about as sure of how to handle the situation just as much as I was.
“If I knew you all were coming, I would have cleaned up, I really would have, I promise.”
We slowly walked towards her, twigs and leaves crunching under our feet. It could have been comparable to a hunter stalking its prey, but it unfortunately was quite the opposite.
6 days earlier, Quantico, Virginia
“3 bodies, all found within the last 48 hours in rural New York. So far, the first body has revealed that although it was dumped upstate, the victim was murdered in the city, and the same most likely goes for the other bodies as well. Nails well manicured, no drugs in the system. They aren't junkies, we’re dealing with upper class citizens.”
My face contorted as I took the photos from Reid’s hands, his large and tanned one surprising me by how soft it felt as it accidentally brushed against mine. I blushed like a madman, looking to see him doing the same thing. I cleared my throat getting Rossi’s attention.
“Why are we only now hearing of this?” I questioned, flipping through the images as I did so, my confusion only growing. I didn’t recieve an answer, leaving my curiosity to bloom.
“Wait, how did you say they were killed again?”
Morgan looked up, taking the photos from me. “He didn’t.”
I sighed, pushing my glasses up on my nose.
“Is there at least any correlation between the bodies and the butterflies?”
Our attention was shifted to JJ, the resident expert on the insects.
“Actually, the ones being found with the bodies are from the Amarynthis family, all native to Latin America. They weren’t there by accident so yes, they’re somehow related.”
Rossi stood up, grabbing his coat.
“Well, none of this is nearly enough for a profile, so pack your bags and tell the others, wheels up in an hour. We’re headed to New York.”
4 days earlier, F.B.I. Field Office, New York, New York
“The final report from the latest victim is in, all the autopsies are clean. They show no signs of struggles, no marks, no blood, no anything. The eyes weren’t bloodshot, so suffocation is ruled out, and that was our best bet.”
I sighed, sliding the case file across the glass table to Spence as I took my seat, sinking into it and allowing myself to be consumed by its warmth.
“So what your saying is that we’re back at square one.”
I looked up at Hotch from where I sat, running my hand through my ponytail.
“Yeah. That’s what I’m saying.”
Just then, the young Doctor spoke up as he flipped through the pages.
“The eyes weren’t just not bloodshot, there was barely any blood left in any of the victims bodies, only about 3% of the volume left. The killer drained them.”
Morgan gave me a shocked expression, silently asking for an explanation.
“Which you failed to mention, Y/n.” Aaron spoke, agitation once again present in his voice.
I looked at the ceiling, crossing my arms in front of me before turning to face Hotch once more.
“Yeah, well, I thought it was obvious when I said no blood.” I stuttered out cautiously.
“On the bodies! Not in the bodies!” Morgan exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air in what was in my opinion, very childish. Everyone else in the room aside from Spencer was either shaking their heads or pinching the bridge of their noses, and reasonably so.
“Look, I’m sorry I just didn’t see it in the report, plus, In the scheme of things, it just doesn’t seem to matter.”
I soon regretted my words, realizing how ill-fit they were for the current conversation I was having. Spencer looked up, tilting his head.
“Doesn’t seem to matter? How? There’s an endless amount of possibilities now that we know this. If we had known it sooner we probably could have figured out the pattern and caught the one doing this!” He harshly spewed, his voice acting like a crescendo of sorts, quiet and calm and moving towards a loud and violent tone. Tears began to prick at the corners of my eyes and I was starting to feel guilty, not to mention absolutely stupid as could be.
“I’m- I really am sorry guys, truly.”
Hotch locked eyes with me, taking a stern tone that one would usually take with a disobedient child, perhaps even Jack.
“I hope that’s a comfort to you when another body shows up. That’s their blood on your hands.”
I was frozen, the gravity of the situation taking its toll.
In the background I heard him say something to Morgan about a new profile having to be made as there were many new things to be known from this revelation. But it all went in one ear and out the other, just unpleasant white noise.
As I clumsily stumbled out of the room, I felt Reid’s eyes burning holes into the back of my brain. I was quick to turn my head to meet his glance, causing him to look down. I felt bad, the weight on my chest growing heavier from the interaction.
I sat down at my desk, turning on my computer and immediately going to google. I typed in “hypnosis” and let the info trickle in.
About 30 minutes later, I still felt absolutely horrible, but I had also put together a valuable profile in the time that had passed. I shut the newly finished file, blowing an abandoned strand of hair out from my eyes. I had to do a double take when I saw Spencer staring once more, his deep hazel eyes meeting my own. I gave him a small smile before standing up and walking to Hotch’s makeshift New York office. I pushed open the heavy door, placing the folder on his too-clean desk.
“What’s this?” He asked, taking it in his hands.
“My theory about the unsub. I think I know what she’s been doing. You can tell the team if you want, I’m not sure if they would wanna hear it from me. ”
He gave a small smile, pushing the file back over to me.
“You get the team together and I’ll get the local PD caught up. You tell them yourself.”
A few minutes later, everyone except for Reid had gathered in the meeting room. I peeked through the half closed blinds that allowed a line of vision to his desk in an attempt to locate him. He was positioned there, staring blankly at his laptop that appeared to have nothing on the screen. I knocked on the window lightly to catch his attention, his glazed over eyes looking in my direction. I tilted my head at him, silently beckoning him to join me. He only shook his in response, shaggy brown locks swaying back and forth. I sighed, frowning at his action. I turned to the group, clasping my hands in front of me.
“Everyone, this will just be a second if you’ll excuse me.”
With a raised eyebrow from Hotchner and a jab in the direction of Spencer’s workspace, I swiftly walked out of the crowded room.
“Spence, care to join us?” I asked, resting one of my hands against my hip, the other on his orderly desk.
“No, I don’t think I will. I need to try to figure this out before she finds her next victim.”
“What makes you think the unsub is a she?” I searched his eyes that had seemingly become brighter at my piqued interest in his hypothesis.
“Well, the unsub seems to be obsessed with symmetry, all the bodies being found in obscure yet symmetrical positions. This could suggest she had some sort of deep rooted insecurity, possibly from some sort of bullying from growing up in a small town where she was looked at as a superior for subpar looks. She moved to the big city, expecting a big break. Instead she was shunned for being less than average. She grew frustrated and as a result, she began her killing spree. The stresser could have been one too many insults that made her snap. Plus, that would account for the butterflies left on the scenes that are used in modern examples of both femininity and symmetry.”
I smiled widely at his words.
“What- why are you smiling, what are you smiling at?”
I tapped his desk, rolling my bottom lip between my teeth. I headed back towards the conference room, looking over my shoulder.
“Because, I’m glad we’re on the same page, Dr.”
——————
“So, our girl, as Dr. Reid has explained to us, is obsessed with her appearance. She’s an organized killer, no mistakes and no signs of blood or anything of the sort on scene. She has practice, she does this sort of thing every day. She is most likely in the age group of 23-30, and has a job in the cosmetic industry, our guess is in plastic surgery. She probably volunteers weekends at local butterfly sanctuaries or zoos, finding comfort in their perfection that those in her life, or formerly in her life, cannot and could not provide.”
“Which would explain to her easy access to non-native species of the insects. She has an absolute infatuation with symmetry, which yet again, links the butterflies on the crime scene to her MO.”
Spencer and I were vividly explaining our shared theory to the team, as well as local law enforcement. He was excited by his discovery and the lead on the killer, and his energy was contagious.
“She kills without remorse and out of jealousy, picking victims who all have one thing in common.”
Spence pointed to all of the images pasted on the board in the center of the room, all of them split in half and reflected, creating a perfect mirrored portrait.
“They all have perfectly symmetrical faces, as well as strong jawlines and high cheekbones. As most of these victims are models or those searching to start a modeling career, we believe she is luring them in with a photographer trope, promising to make their dreams come true.”
I nodded, taking a moment to study Reid’s own sharp yet somehow soft features. I allowed my eyes to wander over his sunken in, kind, and curious eyes; his pillowy pink lips that are in dire need of some chapstick.
“Agent?”
I turned my head, snapped back to reality by Rossi calling my name.
I gave a tight and quick smile, returning to the topic at hand and tactics to catch the unsub. But of course not before Emily gave me a crooked smile, resulting in me rolling my eyes.
“Physically, she’s nothing special, most likely a mundane appearance or one with quite obvious surgical changes. No in between. Check all of the plastic surgeon offices in the area for both employees who fit our description, as well as a patient who has gotten any serious facial mod operations. Do the same for any weekend volunteers at local zoos and animal sanctuaries, specifically working with any insects.”
It was an NYPD officer then that spoke up this time, raising her hand briefly.
“But, you still haven’t mentioned how she’s killing them?”
“Hypnosis.” Reid and I both spoke at the same time. He looked to his black Converse, sliding his hands into his pockets. I observed the room and all of the skeptical faces filling it.
“Even if it may sound far fetched, we saw no signs of anything that indicated a struggle or even any marks or wounds. This led us to believe that some form of hypnosis was used to allow her an easy kill. This means extra caution will have to be taken when actually handling the unsub. Even though we’re positive she’s using hypnosis, which method she is using to actually kill them after the fact is what we’re unsure of.”
I turned to Spencer, handing off the explanation to him.
“We think that because of her whole thing with symmetry, she wouldn’t want to disturb the natural state of the victims and their faces, even if she would do the same to her own.”
“Which means?” JJ asked, her blue eyes slanted and glossed lips left ajar.
“It means that the unsub wouldn’t want to leave any large marks like stab or gunshot wounds.” I nodded at Prentiss, who had made the assumption, confirming she was correct.
“With her presumed background in plastic surgery, we believe she was able to make small incisions that made no visible scars. We’re having the coroner look back over the bodies as we speak.”
“She drains the body’s blood 97% of the way before closing the holes up. What she does with the blood, we don’t know. Another Eddie Mays, perhaps.”
I looked over to Spencer, raising my brows at his comparison. He was quick to defend himself, shaking his hands left to right and mouthing “No” while simultaneously shaking his head the same way, something he seemed to be doing often as of late.
After we had finished consulting with any officers who had remaining questions, we branched off to conduct our own routine investigations. We found that the only thing they all had in common apart from the symmetrical faces, is that they all had visited the Central Park Zoo in the 24 hours before they were killed. We received a phone call from Garcia not long after we put together those pieces, being alerted that there was one girl who had, in her words, “Hit every mark there was to hit, sunshine.”
“Her name is Alessia Copelas, she works weekdays as a surgeon's assistant at Premier Cosmetic, and weekends at Central Park Zoo from 4-8 p.m.”
I smiled at the new info from the blonde bombshell known as Penelope, turning to Reid who was still looking at me quizzically.
“Alright, thanks babes, you’re the best.” I spoke into the phone, a comical “Mwah!” made from either side as we hung up.
He shook his head, keeping the odd look on his face.
“I swear, you guys have a weirder relationship than her and Morgan.”
I laughed, sliding my phone into my back pocket.
“Oh, please, Spence.” I gingerly placed a hand on his cheek, patting it twice.
“You’re just jealous.” I made a pouty face, letting my hand linger before walking off. “Come on, we’re going on a field trip.”
“Where to?” He asked, gripping the door frame, using it as leverage to swing himself closer to me. He took long and quick strides, catching up to me in no time.
“You like animals, right?”
———————
4 Days Earlier, Central Park Zoo, New York
As soon as we entered the zoo, our ears were filled with the sounds of the loud screeches of birds and monkeys alike. Reid covered his ears, cringing and making his displeasure known with an “Ahh!”
I smiled at his geeky behavior, admiring the animals in the enclosures. I paid special attention to a particularly impressive species of tarantula, leaning down to admire them. A few moments later I looked to my left and saw Spencer doing the same thing.
“Did you know that arachnids have asthma which is why they don’t run for extended periods of time, similarly to cheetahs?”
“Yes I did.”
His face scrunched up in an adorable manner, causing an involuntary giggle to fall past my lips.
“Well did you know that-“
“Ma’am?”
I turned to see a young woman with flaming red hair and a freckled face smiling at me, her green collared uniform top complimenting her eyes of a different shade wonderfully.
“Oh, hi, I’m Agent Y/l/n and this is Dr. Reid, we’re with the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI.”
Her expression shifted to a more confused one, her smile not leaving her face.
“What can I do for you two?”
“Is there an Alessia Copelas that works here, maybe volunteers on the weekends?” Spencer asked, his puppy dog eyes immediately warranting a response.
“Yeah, she volunteers here, she seems nice. Is she helping with an investigation?”
“Well we think that she may have some part in a series of murders.”
Her smile disappeared this time, turning into a cement frown as panic flooded her body.
“Oh God, was she- Is she a killer? Have I been working with a killer for all this time? I mean, I never had any shifts with her but from what I heard I thought she was so sweet-“
“Look,”
Reid glanced down to her name tag that read “Lillian” before meeting her eyes. His tongue darted out, licking his lips, a nervous habit of his I’d picked up on.
“Lillian, we aren’t sure if she’s the killer we just needed to get a feel on her and get some information regarding her personal life.”
She started frantically nodding her head, more trying to convince herself she was okay rather than ourselves. I looked over her shoulder at some exhibits, thinking to myself how this would end up being a waste of our time if this poor girl couldn’t get a grip on herself.
I was soon proven wrong when I looked over to see a young girl wearing an identical uniform to Lillian, probably somewhere between 23 and 24. She had untamed chocolate locks with bangs that stopped just above the shoulder, blemishes covering her T-Zone, and a rounded face to go with it.
The cherry on top? Under her arm she carried a small enclosure with what appeared to be amarynthis meneria, the same butterflies found on the victims.
I tapped Reid on the shoulder once as discreetly as possible, catching his attention. I heard him mutter a small “Oh God” before he told Lillian to walk away calmly and quickly. She ignored his request, turning to look at Alessia, letting out a blood curdling scream and sprinting the other direction.
“Shit.” I cursed, beginning to walk towards Alessia, Spencer by my side. I smiled at her, trying to appear friendly. Reid spoke up as we got closer.
“Hello, do you by any chance-“
wham!
“Spence!” I exclaimed, reaching down to help him up from where he had fallen from being whacked by the 4’2 pyscho that was Alessia Copelas.
“Did she get away?”
I turned to see her gone, the only sign she was even here being the forming bruise on the Dr’s face.
“Yeah. She did. I’m sorry, Reid, that was really stupid of me.” He shook his head, running his own hand over the raw skin.
“It’s fine, I would have done the same for you.” He looked up, and I wasn’t sure if it was my school-girl esque crush on him or the fact I just had another experience with a serial killer, but my heart was racing nonetheless.
————————
F.B.I. Field Office, New York, New York, 1 Day Earlier
The stress levels in the room were high.
Despite our best efforts, several more bodies had been found, New York’s narcissists were in a state of panic, and the spirits of the BAU were down to say the least.
“What? Are you kidding me?” I exclaimed, looking at Hotch in disbelief.
He rolled his chocolate eyes, fanning the folder containing the new information we had gathered on Alessia.
“I wish I was, Y/n. She’s off the grid completely, her apartment is empty, phone and credit cards have been deactivated, and the surgeon’s office hasn’t heard from her for 5 days. And the media has decided to give her the name ‘Butterfly Baron’, so she’s probably been fueled even further. We need a new lead before she strikes again.”
I scoffed, standing up and pushing my chair away.
“This is unbelievable. How many times do we have to reinforce the idea to local PD! Especially when the unsub is a self absorbed psycho, do not give them a name! God, I really cannot fathom this.”
I reached up, letting my hair down from where I had messily thrown it up upon my arrival to work that morning.
I stormed out of the room, my heels clicking behind me. I ignored Hotch’s calling of my name, making my way to the closest restroom.
I went in, locking the door behind him. I ran my hands through my roots, tugging just enough to where it hurt.
Turning the water to the left all the way, I splashed it from the stream leaving the faucet on to my face. I scratched my fingernails against the skin, wiping away the tears that had escaped.
“This is all your fault, y/n.” I whispered at myself in the mirror, doing my absolute best to engrain the message in my brain. I had my head hung in shame when a knock rang out.
“Y/n?”
It was Spencer. My mind started going a million miles a minute, thinking about why he could be there. With my voice raised a few octaves, I tried to scrape up a response.
“I’ll be out in a few, Spence.”
It was quiet for a split second, leaving me to foolishly dance around the idea that he had left me to wallow in my sorrowful thoughts.
“Y/n, Hotch wanted me to check on you. Are you ok?”
My heart slightly sank at the idea that he might’ve just come to check on me because he himself was worried. I discarded the thought, bringing myself back.
“Y/n can you please answer me? If you don’t open the door I’m gonna send in JJ or Emily.”
I sighed, wiping under my eyes where my mascara had smudged, begrudgingly walking over to the door. Just as my hand landed on the silver handle, his voice that was constantly playing in my head echoed out once more.
“Y/n, please? I need to know you’re okay. I’ll come in there myself.”
A soft smirk graced my face as I turned the handle to reveal a worried looking Spencer.
“Y/n, oh God, you had me worried.”
He was quiet when he spoke and his hair looked messy, like he had been running his slender fingers through it in a stress filled state.
I sniffled, attempting to still keep back tears that were still threatening to spill.
“I’m alright, Spencer. Really, I’m fine.”
He gave me a small smile, his eyes meeting my own.
“I know, it’s just that when I had my Diludad problem,” he hesitated.
“I would lock myself in bathrooms to shoot up, and I know you aren’t having a problem like that but I just was worried about you- what are you doing?”
I cut off his rambling by throwing my arms around his middle. He tensed, but quickly melted. He wrapped his strong arms around my shoulders and my waist, laying his head on mine.
“Y/n, I promise you, you’re doing your absolute best to stop Alessia. We wouldn’t even be where we are right now if you hadn’t made the connections. Those deaths are not your fault.”
My tears finally began to cascade like a waterfall, staining his shirt.
“I know, but it’s just like it is all my fault! I could have paid closer attention, or-or, I could have went after her at the zoo, it’s all my fucking fault, Reid.”
I sobbed into his shirt, my hand gripping his shirt like my life depended on it. Like if I let go I would fall into a deep, deep, endless hole.
His hand on my waist moved up to cradle my head.
“It’s not, I promise you-“
He was cut off mid sentence by the ringing of his phone.
“I am so, so sorry-”
I pulled away, breifly touching under my nose with my wrist, then moving a hair behind my ear.
“Nope, it’s fine, don’t worry.” Our words almost had overlapped each other as we clambered to fight the tension that had risen. I closed my eyes, tilting my head up, thinking about how unprofessional yet intimate our previous position had been. How wrong, yet how right it felt.
I kept running the moment through my head, the feeling of his warm figure encasing mine on replay.
His phone call played as background noise to the film playing in my brain, his voice calming me to an extent.
“Yeah, we’re on our way. Thanks, Morgan.”
He closed the phone with a snap, also snapping me out of my trance, putting the movie on pause.
“They’ve got a hit. Copelas was seen dropping by her old apartment.”
And for the first time since that Goddamn case had started, I smiled genuinely.
“Let’s go get her.”
————————
15 Minutes Prior, Central Park, New York
“Hotch?”
“Yes?” He looked back from where he was driving, following our lead in a rushed manner.
“What will we do if she...” I trailed off.
“Hypnotizes one of us?” He finished for me. I nodded solemnly.
The look on his face was conflicted and it took him a moment to come up with a response.
“We kill her before we have to kill one of our team members.”
He saw a look of uncertainty on my face and spoke up once more.
“And that’s an order.”
I nodded again, making eye contact with him through the rear view mirror. I fell back into my seat, closing my eyes briefly.
After a few more minutes on the road, we had arrived.
The doors all slammed to the SUVs, one after the other as we stepped out.
“The letter said that she would be here, somewhere here.”
The voice of Morgan was channeling through my earpiece, referring to the letter found at her apartment that she had left just for us.
“We ordered evac on citizens, correct?”
The unsure voice of JJ was also heard through the earpiece, her uncertainty quite unusual to hear.
“Yes, it was the first thing we did, Jayj.”
I whispered, a sly smirk from Spencer forming at my behavior.
“Oh shut up.”
“I didn’t even say anything!”
snap!
Our senses adapted, becoming dialed to 11 at the sound of a twig snapping under someone's feet.
“Was that you?” I mouthed to Spencer. He shook his head no and I silently cursed to whatever force was listening.
I nodded, which he then reciprocated, the pair of us slowly walking towards the source of the sound after he did.
“They’re going to remember me, I’ll go down in history.”
The voice was sing-songy and quiet, floating through the air. I took a shaky breath, continuing my steady pace.
My breathing momentarily halted soon after.
Different variations of “Oh my God”s, and loud gasps from almost everyone on the team flooded my ear canal at the horrifying sight in front of us.
Red. So much of it.
“Guys, I think we know what she’s been doing with the bodies’ blood.”
“No shit.” I muttered under my breath.
She was bathed in the blood, it looked like something straight out of a horror movie.
“Alright everyone, I want you to approach her as quietly as possible, Morgan, if you get the chance, corner her.”
Hotch’s voice was a stark contrast to her own, Derek’s response all the same.
—————————
Present Day, Central Park, New York
“But Agents, you still haven’t answered my question. They’re beautiful, aren’t they?”
“Alessia Copeleas, FBI, come on, get up, lets go.”
Derek’s voice was stern, not asking, but demanding that Alessia come with us.
“I’m afraid I just can’t do that, Agents.”
She stood up abruptly, causing all of our weapons to rise. The sun reflected off of the silver metal of Reid’s gun, sparkling in a stunning way that caught me off guard.
We all were trying to act as if we were in total control of the situation, but we could tell that us nor Copelas really believed that. Her words were her weapon, and this was the one time where words could hurt, but sticks and stones had virtually no power.
“Take another step and we will have no hesitation to fire.”
She smirked, rolling her eyes.
“If you do, will I be famous you think? You think they’ll hear about me back home?”
Her curls softly blew in the wind, making her appear almost harmless, maybe even endearing, if it wasn’t for the hardening coat of human blood soaking her clothes and seeping from her skin.
“Is that what you want? The kids back home and everyone here to hear about you? You want ‘Butterfly Baron’ written on every billboard in Times Square, your picture painted in museums, films to be made in your honor?” Reid was the one who spoke up this time, his voice remaining strong. Her eyes shone with a sickening excitement at what he said.
“You want to be famous?”
She nodded vigorously.
“Too bad.”
My eyes widened, surprised at the detour the conversation had taken.
“What-what do you mean?”
“Please, the only thing people will hear about is a sad, boring little girl from a small town who killed to feel better about herself. They’ll forget about you in a week, who knows, maybe they’ll even grow an infatuation with your town, someone you went to school with may get as lucky as to catch their big break!” He laughed, while Alessia looked absolutely devastated.
“You? You’ll be a nobody.”
“That’s not true! I’ll go down in history, and they won’t! I’m the fucking butterfly baron for hells sake! All these people?” She gestured towards her field of bodies.
“You won’t remember their names, maybe not even their pretty faces, but me? I’ll live forever.”
Her nostrils flared and she strode over to Reid with purpose. The safety on my glock clicked off, but Spencer motioned for me to wait. So I did.
“You know, Agent-“
“It’s Doctor.”
This visibly agitated her even more as she started her sentence over again.
“Doctor, you have a beautiful bone structure. Absolutely perfect. Symmetrical, not to mention just flat out stunning.”
A glaze formed over Spencer’s honey eyes at her words. He lowered his gun momentarily before turning towards me, Copelas doing the same.
“And you, Agent. Wow. I feel like I’m in an art exhibit, you’re gorgeous. I think the Doctor man here would agree.”
As he lifted his revolver at me, the situation became all too real as I understood what was happening.
I either had to shoot the man that I was struggling to admit I was beginning to love, or died at the hands of the very same man.
Tears flooded my eyes, all safeties were turned down, and all guns were pointed at Reid.
“Spence, please.”
My voice was weak, something that seemed to bring Alessia lots of joy.
She laughed before talking again, commanding Spencer.
“Pathetic, really! Spence”, she mocked,“shoot her.”
“No!”
bang!
whack!
---------------------
Present Day, Somewhere In The Sky, The Jet
I opened my eyes from where I had been tackled to the ground by Hotch, surveying my surroundings to see Alessia laying on the grass, the source of her gunshot wound non-distinguishable from the previous blood on her body.
I looked to the right to see where Spencer had crumpled to, his frame bent in a discombobulated position.
“Spencer!” I cried out, crawling over to him like some sort of dog,
“What happened to him?”
“Y/n, he was going to shoot you-“
“I don’t care you should have let him!”
I cradled his head in my lap, allowing my pent up tears to fall.
“Y/n?”
My eyes snapped open for real this time, my mind calmed at the sight of Spencer sitting next to me on the couch, gently shaking my shoulder in an attempt to wake me from my nightmare.
“Spencer! Sorry, was I too loud?”
He chuckled, gesturing to the rest of the sleeping plane around us.
“You’re fine, I wasn’t sleeping, I decided to reread ‘Fahrenheit 451’ for nostalgia purposes. And you weren’t that loud, you just looked like you were having a bad dream.”
I chuckled at the not-so outlandish idea in an attempt to diminish it from his mind and move on.
“I’m fine. But fun fact, I did have nightmares after reading ‘The Veldt’. Seriously, I don’t get how you can just reread Bradbury’s stuff all the time.”
The genius scoffed, starting a rant on how Ray Bradbury’s storytelling was just classic literature and deserved to be reread, thus successfully changing the topic as I hoped my statement would. Although soon after, he caught on much quicker than I would have liked him to.
“And not to mention, The Veldt alone could be seen as a forewarning to the 21st century and beyond, even Bradbury himself supported that interpretation-‘
I gave him a tired smile, enjoying his rambling like I always did.
“-and you totally just got me to change the subject.”
“I was wondering when you were gonna catch up.”
“Hey!”
He laughed as I rested my head on my hand, trying to fall back asleep.
“Really, I can tell those nightmares are bad. What’s going on?” He questioned, his tone empathetic and compassionate.
“It’s nothing, Reid. I just keep seeing in the park, when Alessia got shot and you-you got hurt but instead of getting up like you did in real life, you just…”
I trailed off, not wanting to relive the negative dream any longer for fear of the tears that were pricking my eyes escaping.
“It’s okay, that didn’t happen, I’m right here.”
He pulled me into a hug, allowing me to bury my head in the crook of his neck, his warmth consuming me once more, a sequel to the film from earlier.
“I know, but what if it hadn’t?” I asked as I pulled away.
He shook his head, reaching for his wallet.
“In this job, this course of work, we can’t focus on ‘what if’s’. In this job, we also get nightmares, all of us. It happens.”
He slid a picture over to me, it was of a happy family. The edges were worn from years of being carried, but the picture seemed loved.
“Gideon gave me that when my nightmares started. He told me about how those families we save everyday, and how that’s what makes what we do worth it. And I know you didn’t know Gideon personally, or the work on the specific case with that family, but I want you to have it anyway-“
I cut him off by throwing my arms around his neck, attempting to speak despite being muffled by his fluffy sweater.
“Thank you, Spence. Truly.”
I smiled, and I imagined he was doing the same.
“No problem y/n. Anytime.”
I moved my legs over to be tucked underneath my arms, leaning into Reid. He wrapped his arm around me, also leaning in. We both managed to fall asleep for the remainder of the ride in our state of content, but not before he managed to sleepily call out my name.
“Y/n?”
“Yeah?”
“When we land do you wanna go on a date or somethin’?”
I smiled at him, separating from his form just long enough to see that beautiful face of his.
“Without a doubt.”
🂦∙🂦∙🂦
AHAHAHHAHAHAHA I’M WAY TOO HAPPY WITH THAT LMAOOO but anyway chile-
i don’t have some long ass paragraph to write this time omg wig, i’m just proud asf of my work for once (except for the zoo part ngl kinda didn’t like it😳)
😛✨vibes✨ love u, xx hj
#spencer reid#dr spencer reid#doctor spencer reid#criminal minds#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds fanfiction#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x yn#doctor spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid fluff#dr spencer reid fluff#criminal minds fluff#matthew gray gubler#mgg#mgg imagine#mgg fluff#mgg x reader#matthew gray gubler x reader#matthew gray gubler imagine#matthew gray gubler smut#IM SORRY FOR THE TAG WITH NO RELEVANCE TO THE FIC BFKEQL
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No Need to Rush
Request: can u pls do a spencer x bau fem! reader where she’s dyslexic but also a genius like spencer and like someone maybe another member of the team/unsub makes a comment abt her being stupid. and she gets really upset abt it. then later spencer comforts her and they have really romantic but rough sex. where he’s just like reassuring her of how smart and beautiful she is.
A/N: Thanks for the request, anon! Sorry this took a lil long to complete but I wanted to make sure I wrote this accurately and incorporate everything you wanted into it! Please let me know if you don’t feel as if this representation of dyslexia sits right with you and I will edit it no problem. This fic also concludes smut week (woo!) so I hope you enjoy 💓
Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!reader
Category: Smut
Content warning: Learning disorder degradation, mentions of violence, rough sex, fingering, penetrative sex, creampie, choking
Word count: 3.2k
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It was the dead of winter in Seattle, Washington and a sniper decided it was the best time to have some target practice. His target practice ended up taking three innocent people’s lives as they were living their day-to-day lives. To top off his killing spree, he wrote handwritten letters to the police department. His letters were rambles about him not stopping until he finds his final target.
Hotch had left Spencer and you to go over the letters to try and figure out any indications of who his final target could be. He had sent JJ and Morgan to interview the victim’s family members to try and see if there were any similar people in their circle. Having you four working diligently on piecing the entire story together could end up saving another person from meeting an early demise.
You loved working with Spencer because the two of you were always up to speed with your thinking process. Both of you analyzed each letter with care, making sure nothing was missed which could possibly be used as a clue in identifying who this person and who their real target is.
You felt as if you were taking too long to go through every letter. There were about 20 of them and his incoherent rambles were giving you a hard time efficiently reading them. You had 10 to go through and Spencer was already finished and writing on the whiteboard clues he found in the letters. You were still on your seventh letter, dissecting and writing down what you thought was important. You couldn’t help feeling bad you were taking a long time.
“I’m sorry,” you said.
Spencer looked back at you with a questionable expression. “For what?”
“For taking forever. I’m taking up time reading these letters when I should be brainstorming with you.”
“Y/N, you’re not slowing down the process. If anything you taking your time can identify some major evidence.”
“Yeah, but you could do it within two minutes.”
“Doesn’t mean anything. Valuable information is valuable information no matter how long it takes you to find it. Besides you’re the smartest person I know, so nothing will get past you.”
“Doesn’t feel like it sometimes.”
“I’m here to remind you it’s all the time. I’ll be here to remind you every day if you ever doubt yourself.”
You smiled as you felt your worries drifting away. You were always self-conscious about having dyslexia. Growing up with it was the hardest part of your early years because people would see your extraordinary capabilities but questioned them whenever you had to read or spending longer than usual completing tasks. It was embarrassing for you. Even in adulthood you felt anxious about letting people know you were dyslexic because you were worried they wouldn’t see you as a genius.
When you let the members of the team know you were dyslexic, they accepted you as you were. It made you feel welcomed and understood for once in the longest while. It was especially nice hearing Spencer say you were a genius regardless of your dyslexia. You felt as if he understood you the most out of everyone because he had a rough time growing up as a child prodigy.
As you continued to read through the letter you were on, something caught your eye. You looked up at the whiteboard to see what Spencer had written. He had written about sunsets, trees and a park. He had concluded it was about Kerry Park in Seattle and speculated the unsub could possibly live near there. What you had read though made you think of a different possibility.
“Kelly Park,” you said aloud.
Spencer turned to you. “Kelly Park?”
Before you could explain your findings, Hotch and detective Royce entered the room. You were happy they did, so you could explain to everyone your theory as to who the unsays actual target is.
“Find any useful information we can put towards finding the unsub?” Hotch asked.
You nodded. “Yes. Kelly Park’s the end goal.”
“Kelly Park? You mean Kerry Park by West Highland,” detective Royce said.
“No, I mean, yes, but the unsub slipped up…uh no, they-uh- replaced Kelly with Kerry because there is a Kelly Park who lives nearby,” you explained.
“Wait, so is it Kerry or Kelly the name of the person who lives nearby Kerry’s Park?” Hotch asked.
“Sorry, sir. It’s Kelly Park who lives nearby Kerry’s Park.”
“How can you even speculate that?” Detective Royce asked.
“Because it’s in this letter. He says, ‘I spend my days looking at Kelly Park and wondering when I’d be brave enough to leave. I don’t think I am but one day I’ll be free,’” you said while holding it up.
Detective Royce took it from your hand to take a closer look. He furrowed his eyebrows as he read. He looked back up at you questionably.
“Maybe he’s dyslexic. Only an idiot would write Kelly instead of Kerry when referring to Kerry Park,” he said.
You clenched your jaw as he said his ignorant statement. You knew the unsub wasn’t dyslexic and you had a clue right infant of you. You snatched the letter away from his hands as you took a deep breath to calm yourself down.
“I’m actually dyslexic myself and I can tell you right now this unsub is not,” you said.
“I should have known from the time you mixed up Kerry and Kelly in your explanation. For a genius you sure don’t talk like one,” he said.
You felt your eyes stinging from the tears which were trying to breakthrough. What he said was familiar to everything you heard from your childhood. It was degrading to hear it when you knew you were on to something. Especially evidence which could potentially save someone.
“Don’t talk to one of my agents with such disrespect, Royce. My team and I would never slander your team, so we expect the same courtesy back,” Hotch said.
“Hotchner, you can’t seriously believe this is a connection,” detective Royce said.
“Who said it couldn’t be?” Spencer said.
“Common sense. He’s trying to mess up his words on purpose to take us off track from what really matters,” detective Royce said.
“Well, I’m not taking that risk. While you stand there with your arro…ignorance, I’ll actually go and do something about this piece of evidence,” you said as you walked by him to exit the room.
You could feel your heart drop with every step you took. Before you called Garcia you took a trip to the washroom. You went into a stall and made sure it was locked before you let your tears escape. You hadn’t felt humiliated for the longest time. The questionable look and harsh comments detective Royce spat at you made you feel sick. You knew you were smart and you knew you were onto evidence to save someone’s life. Yet you were doubted.
You wiped your tears away and took a few deep breaths before exiting the stall. You couldn’t let what he said distract you from finding Kelly Royce. You knew it would affect you for the rest of the day but you would sleep better at night knowing you saved a life. You didn’t want to be crying over two things tonight.
------
You sat on the edge of the hotel room bed. You had finished getting ready for the night and were ready to get into bed to forget about the day. You were happy you were right about Kelly Park and saved her hours before she was scheduled to go into the heart of Seattle for an appointment. Her ex-boyfriend, Michael Richards, had plotted for months on how to make her death look like an accident. Too bad his guilty conscience and ego didn’t mix well and he compulsively wrote down his thoughts.
It bothered you immensely detective Royce still didn’t give you your flowers at the end of everything. You understood not everyone would apologize for their ignorance and you should be used to it by now. However, you couldn’t help but think about it over and over.
You heard a few light knocks on your hotel room door. You looked at the clock. It was 11 p.m. You got up to go peek through the peephole to see who was trying to get your attention this time of night. You looked through the peephole and saw Spencer standing outside. You opened the door. As you opened it he looked at you with a smile but you could see the concern in his eyes.
“What brings you to this part of town so late?” You asked.
“I want to make sure you’re okay before you go to bed. I know how frustrating today was for you and I don’t want you going to bed with doubt on your mind,” he explained.
You stepped aside and gestured him to come inside your hotel room. You were happy he had stopped by. He was always the first one to give you words of encouragement and a reason to put your doubts aside. You closed the door and made your way over to the edge of the bed to sit. You patted the spot next to you for him to sit down. He took the seat next to you, sitting closer to you than expected. You two were shoulder to shoulder and thigh to thigh. It was comforting to you for him to be so close.
“You know, if it wasn’t for you pointing out Kelly Park in his letter, she might not be alive,” he said.
“I know and I’m glad it worked out in the end. I just…”
You trailed off as a wave of doubt overthrew your thought process. You started to think if you had been wrong, if it were just your dyslexia getting the best of you, an innocent life could have been taken. A tear slipped from your right eye. You quickly wiped it away before Spencer saw. He must have seen it escape because he placed his hand on your thigh and squeezed it.
“You have a beautiful mind, Y/N,” he assured you.
“It doesn’t translate properly when I say the wrong words, read slower than average, mix up-”
“And all that doesn’t make a difference to how you save lives every day. If detective Royce wasn’t so prideful he would have thanked you properly for bringing to light what they brushed off,” he said.
You chuckled. “Yeah, he is a prideful idiot.”
“Exactly, so don’t let him or other doubters get to you. I believe in you wholeheartedly and always will. The team does as well, so we’ll always back you up.”
You smiled brightly at him as you felt your deep sadness fade away. He had such a way with words you felt as if you could rule the world solely based on his encouragement. You opened up your arms and embraced him in a hug. He wrapped his arms around the small of your back. He rubbed your back gently as you placed your head comfortably in the crook of his neck.
“I love how you’re always here for me, Spence,” you whispered into his neck.
“I’ll always be here to remind you of your worth and beauty,” he said.
You leaned up from his neck and faced him straight on. Your faces were just an inch away from each other as you lost yourself in his eyes. You softly smiled and found yourself saying things before your brain could process them.
“I could just kiss you right now,” you blurted out.
“Why don’t you?” He asked.
You were now speechless as you weren’t expecting him to be open to the idea. Perhaps he did find more than just your mind to be beautiful. One of his hands moved from your back and found its way to the side of your face. He moved your face closer to his and your lips finally met each other. He gently eased his tongue into your mouth before he dived fully into your mouth.
You placed your hands on his chest. You pulled on his shirt to bring him forward even more to minimize the space between you two. He moved his hands and placed them both on your hip. He brought you onto his lap without breaking your kiss. You glued your hands to his face to prevent him from even considering moving away from you. His hands squeezed before slipping his hands down your pyjama pants.
You didn’t give it a second thought and raised yourself off his hips so he could pull your pants off along with your underwear. He leaned away from your lips as he stared at you with a deep yearning in his eyes. He caressed his hands up your thighs, to your hips and then under your shirt. He pulled your shirt off to reveal your bare breasts.
“I hope you like what you see,” you said.
He smiled. “Of course. You’re beautiful beyond words.”
He then placed your right nipple in his mouth and swirled his tongue around your nipple. You moaned loudly as his tongue made your nipple feel a stimulation you never thought they could feel. He freed your nipple from his mouth as he quietly hushed you.
“We can’t let anyone know where in the same room together,” he whispered.
“I don’t care,” you said as you desperately leaned into him to steal another kiss.
He kissed you back. You held his head in place so he wouldn’t dare move away from you again. You soon felt his thumb circling around your clit. It wasn’t enough to make you stop kissing him but it made you release endless moans into his mouth. You then felt him shove two fingers into you which made you stop kissing him and set your moans free into the atmosphere. He pumped his fingers in and out of you so quickly you couldn’t find the time to catch your breath.
“If you can’t handle my fingers, how do you expect to handle my dick, beautiful?” He asked.
“I…I can,” you stammered.
He smiled. “I haven’t doubted you yet, have I??”
He took his fingers out of you and went to work on undoing his pants. You stared down at his huge bulge as he slipped down his pants and then his underwear. Your eyes widened as you saw his dick. He looked at you to see the amazement in your eyes. He softly chuckled as he grabbed your ass and squeezed it tight as he brought you forward to position you.
“Sit down on it and try not to be too loud,” he demanded.
You did what he asked and lowered yourself onto his dick. The further you went beyond the tip the more your mouth went agape. You could barely even get to the base without feeling as if his dick was already completely inside of you. He did you the favour and forced you all the way down on his dick. You let out a shriek which was cut short by him sticking his two fingers coated in your juices inside your mouth.
“Bounce on it and don’t make a sound. Understand?” He asked.
He nodded your head ‘yes’ for you and you started bouncing on his dick. You could feel your legs quaking as you engulfed his dick in and out of your repeatedly. Once you established a rhythm, you rolled your eyes to the back of your head and enjoyed every inch of his dick stretching your walls.
“How about we pick up the pace?” He asked.
Your eyes shot open as he bucked his hips up and disrupted your rhythm with his new set motion. You moaned heavily around his fingers as his dick kept ramming into you with no mercy. He used his other hand and squeezed your left breast. He licked your breasts before gently biting your nipple.
“Fuck,” you moaned.
“I only ever treat extraordinary women like this,” he said.
“Really?” You moaned.
He lifted you off his dick and laid you on the bed. He gently wrapped his large hands around your throat as he positioned himself on top of you. You could feel your adrenaline pumping as he lowered his face down to yours and kissed you softly on your lips before he stared into your eyes.
“You’re the only extraordinary woman I know,” he said.
“Fuck me like an extraordinary woman,” you said.
He obliged and rammed his dick into you with urgency. You moaned repeatedly as you took in every inch of his dick inside of you. He kissed along your jawline before reaching your ear.
“Who gets fucked like this?” He asked.
“Extraordinary women,” you whimpered.
“And what are you?” He asked.
“An extraordinary woman,” you whimpered.
As he continued to fuck some sense into you, he whispered nothing but the sweetest things in your ear. He called you beautiful, brilliant, amazing and his favourite, extraordinary. It felt nice hearing those things being repeated over and over in your ear especially by him. His dick definitely enforced the message as with every word he said to you, his motion would intensify. You wrapped your legs around him as he continued to fuck you.
“Where do you want me to cum, beautiful?” He asked.
“Inside of me,” you moaned.
He tightened the grip around your neck. “Louder.”
“Inside of me,” you shrieked.
“Look at me while I cum inside of you,” he demanded.
He grabbed your face to keep you still so your eyes were focused on him the whole time. He bit his bottom lip as he stared at your worn-out expression as he fucked you. He slowly stopped going at his rapid pace and soon stopped. You felt his cum fill your insides and you let out a soft moan at the feeling.
He let go of your neck and eased up from on top of you. You felt him stick two fingers in you and he pulled them out quickly. He placed his cum covered fingers on your lips. You opened your mouth and licked the cum dripping off his fingers.
“I don’t ever want you to doubt yourself again. You’re fucking amazing,” he said.
You leaned up on your elbows and smiled. “You are too.”
“Since I can’t stay in your room for the night without raising suspicions in the morning, how about we do something when we get back home and you can stay the night at my place? You know, for extra reassurance,” he said with a smile.
You giggled. “I’d love that.”
He leaned into you and gave you another big kiss on the lips. As he parted from your lips he stared at you with softer eyes from before and brushed your hair back.
“Maybe I’ll stay for a few more minutes. You like cuddles?” He asked.
“I love them,” you said.
He chuckled. “Great because I have a deep desire to cuddle you and make you know you’re treasured.”
You could have cried when he said that. Instead you wrapped your arms around his neck and pecked him on the lips. It wasn’t the best time to cry. You wanted to cherish the moment as a positive part of the day.
“Thank you, Spence. You’re extraordinary.”
“I guess that makes us a perfect match.”
“It sure does.”
—–
Tagged: @shadyladyperfection, @slutforthegubes, @pinkdiamond1016, @spencerreidsthings, @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto, @slutforsr @bxtchboy69, @fallinallinmendes
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#spencer reid#dr. spencer reid#dr.spencer reid#Spencerreid#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid smut#spencer reid fic#spencer reid request#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x fem!reader#mgg#mgg fic#mgg fanfiction#mgg smut#mgg x reader#mgg x y/n#Matthew Gray Gubler#matthew gray gubler request#matthew gray gubler smut#smut#Criminal Minds#criminalminds#Criminal Minds Fanfiction#criminal minds imagine#criminal minds smut#mgg request
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Physical Therapy - Ch. 1 (Spencer)
WELCOME TO PHYSICAL THERAPY!! in honor of this bish starting physical therapy in real life (and missing it bc i can’t drive and my mom and i’s schedules not being synched on google calendar all the time) i’ve decided to write a fic about it. it will be a little series with a goal (yes, an end game) and it’ll be cute. some of it is based on actual things that happen and some is literally just the story. ENJOY.
gender: neutral
tw: nothing that i can think of
genre: fluff | angst
Description: After getting shot in the leg, spencer goes through physical therapy before he can get back in the field completely. What happens when he starts to fall for his physical therapy assistant?
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Two honks at 6am meant that it was time for Spencer to get going. Derek was downstairs, in the car, waiting on boy wonder to crutch his way out of the apartment complex. Derek wasn’t sure how to feel about this trip considering he missed his early morning run for this but he knew how nervous Spencer was for his evaluation today so he didn’t mind as much as he could have minded.
Spencer was patiently waiting in a pair of very short shorts, mismatched socks, and running shoes. He threw on a t-shirt and looked in the mirror, noting how tired he looked. He hadn’t been sleeping well lately for some reason but he couldn’t be sure why. He combed out his hair one more time before he and his crutches headed to the elevators.
“Ready, kid?” Derek said, opening the front door for Spencer like a world class chauffeur would if Spencer was a celebrity.
“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Spencer mumbled.
In truth, Spencer was more than ready to get started on his physical therapy journey. He wanted to get back in the field full time, adrenaline pumping, connecting with victims, walking again. He didn’t mind the assisted mobility but it was hard for him to know that the best he could do sometimes was stay back in the office or hang out in Garcia’s batcave.
The car ride was filled with a comfortable silence between the two men. Derek was thinking about how he could make up his missed morning run by doing another type of high cardio workout while Spencer was just trying to figure out why it had to be him. He wouldn’t wish the frustration of his recovery process on anyone else on the team but the frustration of the recovery process just got to him on some days. Today was one of those days.
Derek pulled up to the physical therapy clinic sooner than Spencer hoped. Part of that was because Derek was a very fast driver while the other part was because Spencer wasn’t paying attention for most of the drive.
“You owe me one.” Derek said, completely joking. Well… Partially. That morning run was what kept him awake during the day, energizing him for work.
“Do you want to come in?” Spencer said, looking down at his hands in his lap.
Spencer’s hands were tapping his leg as he awaited Derek’s answer. He was nothing short of a nervous wreck on the inside. All he could think about was how much pain he would be in once the evaluation was over and the physical therapist had finished poking and prodding at his knee. He hated to think that it would be worse than everything else going on. Plus he still had to go to work today.
“Sure, kid.” Derek said.
Derek wasn’t going to sit in the car and do nothing the whole time so he might as well support his friend.
Climbing out of the car, the boys slowly made it to the sliding glass doors of the physical therapy clinic. Much to Spencer’s surprise, it was nothing like he originally imagined it to be. Some part of him thought it would somewhat resemble the clinic where his mother resided but it was completely different. There were floor to ceiling walls for over half of the first floor building. High tech equipment was stationed everywhere from anti gravity treadmills to hand bike motors, medicine balls and so much more. Spencer stood in the doorway, leaning on his crutches, while he took everything in. There was so much light in the air, it was almost like the feeling of recovery was airy and not meant to bog him down. This was a strange feeling for him to comprehend...
“You coming, pretty boy?” Derek called, taking a break from chatting with the pretty receptionist.
Spencer and his crutches walked over to the front desk and grabbed the paperwork that covered how much pain he was in today. He filled it out quickly, hoping to get everything over with sooner than later. He was already here so he might as well just finish everything quickly so he could get out of the place.
When he finished writing everything down, he returned the paperwork to the receptionist who slipped him a piece of paper and pointed to Derek. Spencer already knew it was the receptionist’s personal phone number and he didn’t even need to look at the paper. Sitting down, Spencer handed Derek to a very confused Derek before it hit him what it was. Derek winked at the receptionist, who blushed before answering the phone.
“Spencer?” A voice called his name shortly after he sat down.
It was nice to know that here, he didn’t have to be a doctor. He was just another person healing. He didn’t have to be smart, he could just exist.
“Good luck.” Derek said, noticing that Spencer’s hand was shaking in the slightest bit.
“My name is Nora and I will be your lead physical therapist.” The woman said, walking Spencer to a vacant padded table. It reminded Spencer of the types of tables you lay on when you get a massage.
He only got a massage once when Garcia got stood up on a couples’ massage date. He spent half of his part of the massage giving the masseuse facts about how their job could actually give them an infection from the amount of germs in the air and on the table. His delivery of facts caused the room to be incredibly uncomfortable and bleach the table very thoroughly. By the time he and the masseuse finished, only 5 minutes were left in the massage and Garcia was left horrified and amused at the same time.
“Don’t worry. We bleach the tables every time someone finishes a session.” Nora said, noticing the look on Spencer’s face. Spencer visibly relaxed and sat on the table.
“So, Spencer, tell me a little bit about yourself.” Nora followed up, pulling up a backless roller chair.
“Well, I was on a case and the unsub, unknown subject, shot at a dad but it ended up hitting me in the leg instead and…” Spencer paused, looking at Nora’s amused face.
“No, I mean tell me about you. Your hobbies, what you do for fun, things like that. I need to do a complete profile for you so I know how your quality of life has been affected and which exercises you can do at home so we aren’t pushing too fast.” Nora smiled at Spencer.
“I work.” Spencer said in a matter-of-fact tone. He didn’t really have anything else to say.
“Okay. So you’re a workaholic.” Nora wrote. She was about to ask a new question when you came quickly walking to Nora.
Spencer was left dumbfounded. There seemed to be a halo of light radiating around you, making you glow. He knew it was the sun finally rising but his brain short circuited as he continued to gaze at you.
“Hey Nora?” You said, looking down at your boss. “Mrs. Gillespi wants to know why you haven’t come back to check her form. She doesn’t trust me because, her words here, I ‘look like a child who doesn’t know their left foot from the color orange.’”
“Sure. Here, you can take over Spencer’s evaluation.” She handed you her clipboard.
You looked at the detailed notes on the paper and then up at Spencer, who looked like one of the youngest people here.
“It’s not often we get cute guys in this place. Other than Kyle. But Kyle’s an asshole who could almost be my dad.” You blurted, not realizing you said it outloud as soon as Nora left.
You noticed that he started blushing and looking at his converse and you realized that you said something. You usually spoke your thoughts out loud but the people you worked with were used to it so no one bothered to say anything.
“What?” You asked, confused.
“You called me cute.” Spencer said. “Which is fine. I don’t understand the appeal but I do believe that your blurting of what you perceive as a fact is a coping mechanism. It can also be tied to ADHD, which is a common mental disorder that causes your brain to impulsively say things.” Spencer paused, looking at your face.
“What?” You asked, again, confused.
“I’m not saying you have ADHD. I’m a doctor but not that kind of doctor. Although I could get another Ph. D. Prove my father wrong. And…” Spencer realized he was rambling.
“Cute and a talker.” You said, writing that down.
You wrote something down on the paper that Spencer couldn’t see but he was curious about.
“Let’s check out that leg.” You said, pulling out an instrument that looked like a compass.
You asked Spencer to move his knee certain ways and it wasn’t as bad as Spencer thought. You were gentle, soft even. Your hands were delicate and you ended the session massaging his leg and smiling at him.
“You were a good patient today, doctor Spencer.” You said, smiling at him.
Spencer blushed, unable to meet your eyes.
“You… I mean… I enjoyed our session.” Spencer said. “Which I don’t normally enjoy. Not that I’ve been shot before. Or had physical therapy. Or been here. Or even worked out really.”
“You’re funny, doc.” You smiled. “Your next appointment is Tuesday of next week according to the schedule so I guess I’ll see you then. I can’t wait.”
Spencer stared at you as he wondered why you were so excited.
“Why?” Spencer asked.
“It’s not every day I get the case for a cute guy who is smart and awkward. It’s almost like the heavens have answered my hopes and prayers.” You joked, looking up at the ceiling and putting your hand on your heart.
“I believe in science.” Spencer stated, grabbing his crutches.
“A man of science. Does it get any better? What’s your star sign?” You joked.
“Scorpio.” Spencer stated.
“Oop. All the scorpios I know have been some hoes. You better not be a hoe, doc.”
“I’m definitely not a gardening tool, if that’s what you’re referring to. Otherwise, I’d like to thing my lack of dating skills doesn’t qualify as being a… hoe? Although, I don’t believe in the use of the word to describe someone who enjoys spending time with multiple people. I’d like to think the use of the word is meant in jest and fun for a term of endearment.” Spencer stood up, balancing on his crutches.
“I’ll be the judge of that.” You said, walking slowly with Spencer to the front desk.
“What’s your name?” Spencer asked, turning to you. He realized that he never got your name.
“Y/n.” You smiled.
The clouds must have parted again because as soon as you turned to walk away from him, towards Nora, you were covered in another halo. And just like that, you were gone again.
_____________________
Future tag list:
@ellvswriting @sageandberries-png @l0ve-0f-my-life @rexorangecouny @kennedywxlsh
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because no is a complete sentence.
hi! so @m0rcia is amazing and has been talking about a spencer hotchner au, which sounds like a really cool thing. it also sounds very chaotic given that diana is still his mother, which would lead to a lot of different parenting techniques. however, she was an absolute angel that answered my asks, which kinda? maybe? hopefuly got me out of my writer’s block. so even though the spencer hotchner au isn’t a complete fic yet, i wrote a really short drabble about it. because it’s amazing. like seriously, you need to see the posts about it.
@m0rcia: thank you. i hope this is okay- i wanted to surprise you because i only followed you recently but your blog always makes me laugh and it’s just really nice okay? and you’re also really nice. right i’ll stop ranting.
this is basically spencer learning that he never needs to justify himself after saying the word no. to anyone. regardless of who they are.
trigger warnings: references to child abuse
Spencer Hotchner is four years and three months old when he first learns that the word “no” is a full sentence.
His mother had often taught him about linguistics, and the way that sentences were formed in different languages. She taught him lots of different words- some of them his dad thought were not appropriate for him to be saying. Why, he didn’t know, because adults said those words all the time with no repercussions.
His dad struggled with the explanation. Spencer still doesn’t understand, but what he does know is that when he goes to stay with his mom, he can say what he wants, so long as he isn’t rude or disrespectful to anyone else around. Dad is more traditional- something to do with his southern upbringing- and he seems a bit different when he uses the so-called bad words. Sometimes they slip out.
But his dad doesn’t shout at him when he uses them. He just takes a deep breath and explains why he doesn’t like Spencer using them. Spencer starts to understand that his dad doesn’t like hearing them, but his mother thinks it’s okay. It’s still a bit confusing for him, but he thinks he grasps it.
Mom doesn’t have a lot of friends that want to touch him. He likes that, because there are only some people who he doesn’t mind touching him. Mom is the first person on that list. She always avoids the places that make him feel weird- his stomach and the back of his neck. Dad is also allowed to hug him. Most nights, he can’t sleep without his dad holding him close. He knows that the two of them are safe people, that’s why he likes them. And Dad is always gentle with him, never holding him too tightly.
Well, he did one time. They were in the shop and it was busy and all the people were so much bigger than Spencer. He found it overwhelming and started crying. Dad dropped the shopping right there in the aisle and took him to the toilets until he was able to explain through their hand signals what it was upsetting him: the lights, the tightness of Hotch’s touch and all the people.
After that, his Dad started taking one day a week as a work from home day. On those days, they would do their grocery shopping in the morning, when it was quiet and less colourful, and then Spencer would spend the afternoon with his Mom whilst Hotch did his work.
So Spencer had never really felt uncomfortable with touch. There were certain fabrics that he hated, but neither parent ever made him wear them. Mom let him wear whatever he wanted. Dad wanted him to change out of his pyjamas in the mornings when it was a weekday, but on weekends, they both spent their time in their pyjamas. It was really nice.
Dad’s family were less so. His dad didn’t have a dad anymore, nor did he like talking about him. Mom said that Dad’s dad was dead, which meant he no longer existed on this planet. Mom told him all sorts of theories about what happened to people after they died, but Dad said the conversation made him feel “icky” so they didn’t speak about it much.
But Dad took him to meet his family one weekend. Or the family he had left. Spencer knew all of their names. There was his Uncle Sean, his grandmother, two grand-aunts and three granduncles. One of his cousins was going to be there too, but they were much older than him.
When Dad rang the doorbell, he was doing the thing with his hand. Spencer had learnt he did that when he had sick feeling in his stomach that people described as butterflies.
“Why are you nervous?” he asked, staring up with wide eyes.
“I don’t really get on with most of my family. But you might like them, and you have a right to know who they are, which is why we’re here,” Dad answered.
“If it makes you feel icky then why did you do it?”
Dad did not answer. Spencer wondered if it was an impolite question. In reality, Aaron was trying to find the words. No had never been a good word in his house. At best, it meant he was being a difficult child, refusing to eat their vegetables. But most of the time it meant his father was refusing to have mercy or listen to him.
The door was opened before he could formulate an answer that wouldn’t terrify his son.
“Aaron! I was wondering when you would get here!” his mother said, kissing him on the forehead. Aaron didn’t let go of Spencer as he entered, remembering to slip his shoes off and put them to one side.
“Well, I’m here now, so,” he said.
Spencer shifted so he was slightly hidden.
“Is this Spencer? Hello, I’m your dad’s mommy, but you can call me whatever you’re most comfortable with. I prefer Nanny, it makes me feel less old and more loved. I have no idea what it is about it, it just does.”
“Mom, we talked about this. Please don’t overwhelm him,” Aaron said, already exasperated.
“Oh I am so sorry. Sean! Your brother is here!” she yelled.
Sean came rushing down the stairs. “Hey Aaron. Hi Spencer, I’m Sean, Aaron’s brother.”
Spencer gave him a shy wave. He wasn’t sure he wanted any of these people hugging him. But it was okay, because his dad understood that and kept them distracted to the point that they didn’t even realise.
The problem came when they were leaving. His dad had gone to get both of their coats, and Spencer was alone in the living room. Dad’s relatives were looking at him strangely as he was mesmerised by the art on the walls. He wondered if his Mom knew where it came from, and what it meant. The colours were muted, but pretty to look at.
“We’ll be off then,” Aaron said, once Spencer was all zipped up.
One of the grand aunts held her arms out. Spencer looked at his dad, who was engaged in conversation with his brother. He didn’t know what the woman expected her to do, so he stood there, watching her. Her face had an expression that he didn’t recognise on it.
Before he could register what she was doing her arms were wrapped around him, in a hug, that he did not want.
He let out a shout and Dad turned around.
“Spencer?” he said, trying to work out what was going on.
Spencer was squirming, trying to get away, but the woman just tightened her grip as he frantically shook his head, not knowing what he was supposed to say. He didn’t like the smell of her perfume, or the scratchy material of her dress. He wasn’t a baby anymore, but he could feel tears forming in his eyes.
And then suddenly he could breathe again. Dad had pulled him away. He buried his head in the soft material of his coat. It was nice and familiar and safe.
“Did he say you could hug him?” Aaron asked, his voice cold.
“I’m his family member, he should just do it,” she snapped.
Aaron swallowed. He wasn’t going to make the same mistakes his own family had. He couldn’t. “No, he shouldn’t. If he doesn’t want you hugging him, then you don’t. Understood? Mother, I’ll see you soon, hopefully. Spencer, we’re going home.”
Spencer nodded. He didn’t speak the whole journey home.
“How are you feeling now?” Dad asked, when they returned.
Spencer shrugged. “I didn’t like her hugging me.”
“That’s okay. When you don’t want somebody doing something, you say no. Okay? That’s all you have to say. No is a complete sentence. You don’t need to explain yourself. Ever. To anyone. Even to me. If you don’t want me to hug you, I won’t. And if that person makes you feel bad then they’re silly. Do you understand me?”
“Yes Dad.”
“And if they don’t stop, you hit them as hard as you can, and then you tell me. Or your Mom. Whichever one of us you see first.”
Spencer nodded. No was an interesting sentence. He’d have to ask his Mom about it. She then said it was one of the most important words a child could learn, and she was glad that his dad had taught him how to use it. They even practiced using it. It was much more fun to say: no I do not want to hear your opinions on Moby Dick again than it was to say: no I do not want a lollipop- which is what dad had made him say.
He was six years old when his dad first saw him use it.
They were in the playground. Dad was talking to Haley Brooks, who was there for her nephew. His Dad was not very good at disguising his attraction to her. Spencer thought it was a bit silly that he didn’t just say he was interested in her. He’d told his mom about what he thought was going to happen. She’d listened attentively and eventually deemed this Haley a good person.
Spencer had gotten bored and wondered over to some of the other kids, who were also waiting for their parents to finish their conversations. He was actually taller than one of them, but the rest were slightly bigger than him. They were playing a more gentle game of tag. Although he’d never met any of them, they quickly let him join the game.
When it was over, because one of them had to go, they asked to hug everyone. All the other children agreed like it was nothing.
Spencer didn’t want to hug him. But he didn’t want it to be like the other time, with Dad’s aunt. He hesitated and tried to see where his dad was. Dad had one eye on him and the other on Haley, ready to step in if he was needed.
No was a complete sentence. It always had been, and it always would be.
So when the little boy turned to him and asked if he could hug him, Spencer knew what to say.
“No,” he said.
The boy looked a little saddened, but shrugged and said bye to him anyways, before going over to his mom and leaving. Spencer used that moment to go back to his dad, who was done talking to Miss Brooks and smiled at him.
“Hey buddy. How was your little game?”
“It was nice. The boy wanted to hug me, but I didn’t want that to happen, so I told him no. And he just said okay and goodbye.”
Aaron smiled, holding his hand out in case his son wanted to hold it during their walk home. “Well done buddy. I know it can be a bit difficult to say it sometimes, but you did good. Shall we go home now?”
Spencer nodded. “Goodbye Miss Brooks.”
“Goodbye Spencer. See you soon Aaron.”
Aaron blushed and turned away, leading his son out of the school. His son that had no problem taking control of his own body or making his needs and wants known. He smiled to himself. Him and Diana may have not agreed on a lot of things, but this? This he was going to tell her all about. Because this was both of them.
Aaron Hotchner may not have grown up knowing that no was okay.
But Spencer Hotchner never had any problems using the word. Because in the Hotchner household, and everywhere else they went, regardless of who or where it was, no was a complete sentence. As it should be everywhere.
#criminal minds#criminal minds fic#criminal minds fanfic#spencer hotchner#au#diana reid#spencer reid#reid#kid!spencer#kid!reid#aaron hotchner#hotch#aaron hotch hotchner#tw child abuse#i don't really know if this is any good#however#it is something#which is more than i've done recently#also it's almost 11:25 so i haven't proofread it at all
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Question and Answer
Spencer Reid x Gender Neutral Reader
Summary: Garcia gets Reader to answer some questions about their feelings for Spencer.
A/N: Hey heyyyy- here’s the twelfth fic for my 30 fics in 30 days for April! Oh my gosh 😱 can’t believe how many I’ve posted in a row already- thanks for all the love on them 🥰 This fic is based on this request- Writing Penelope along with Derek as side characters is one of my favorite things about some of my fluffy pieces! Feel free to leave something in my inbox here- I love hearing from all of you! (I promise I don’t bite lol) Thanks for reading and hope you enjoy!
Warnings: Non at all☺️- though if you see something you think should carry a warning please let me know 😌
Main Masterlist Word Count: 1.8k
When Penelope Garcia got you alone in her office she lovingly called her‘bat cave’ and said she wanted to ‘talk’ there was no escaping it. ‘Talking’ with her usually meant she was going to bombard you with questions, usually linked to some gossip she heard from someone.
It was usually Morgan that fed her curiosity. He was somehow able to be up to date on everything and everyone. A result of that was that Garcia always got to hear the latest thing he had heard. Once Garcia was interested in whatever your answer to the gossip might be, she was without a doubt going to ask.
That’s where you found yourself on one of the slowest work days in recent memory. It had been so slow in fact, that you had been almost about to leave early since you had finished your paperwork. That was until Garcia had called your name in a singsong tone, grasped your elbow delicately with her painted nails, and gently nudged you to come talk with her in the ‘bat cave’.
“Penelope- I really want to go home. Can’t this wait another day?” Your groan perhaps was a bit pathetic as you sat down in a chair, but it had been the first time seemingly in years that you had the chance to go home early. A nap sounded really nice right now and even though you loved Garcia, that was more exciting at the moment.
“Fine fine, yes I’ll let you go soon, quit your bellyaching. And, to answer your other question, no, it can’t wait,” She plopped down into her chair, tapped on her keyboard a few times to close out some files, and then focused all her attention on you, “Just quickly answer my questions- Wait, no! Actually, let’s play a game!”
Another groan, perhaps even more pathetic than the first came out of your chest, while you also let yourself slump down in your chair. Thoughts of your bed danced in your head trying to pull you into a daydream about the nap you had been planning on taking. You then tried as best as you could to keep your focus trained on her for as long as possible. If you were able to focus; it would get done faster.
“Oh hush it’s a quick game that’ll have you out of here faster.” You perked up at that, now suddenly invested in the game that was supposedly going to get you out of here quick.
“Alright- I’ll do it if it gets me out of here quickly.”
She beamed at you for a second, then grabbing one of her decorative pens and a stack of sticky notes. Rapidly she wrote down a list that you tried to peek and see, but she hid the stack with her free hand once she saw you trying to look. Once she had finished she pushed up her glasses a bit, before outlying the rules of the ‘game’, “I want you to answer my rapid fire questions and answer without thinking! It’s supposed to give the most truthful answer from what I read on the website.”
Truthfully, it sounded silly to you, but if it got this interrogation over quick you didn’t mind playing the game. Plus whenever Garcia gave you time to answer she watched whatever your body language was and used that against you to get more information out. She had picked up on how we did our job as profilers over the years. It had become almost as instinctive to her as it was to us whenever we read behavior. Any conversation we had was screaming non verbal behavioral tells at us; it was almost impossible to turn off. So with less time in between questions and answers, it would be harder for her to analyze your movements. Garcia could honestly probably take the classes to become a profiler just as JJ had done, but everyone knew her place was in front of her screen. That was where she worked her best magic.
As soon as you nodded your head, agreeing to start the game, the questions were dropped on you at a rapid pace. The questions had started out simple enough, to get you ready for whatever bombshell question she no doubt had coming. The whole goal of the game was to catch you off guard so you’d answer as honestly as possible.
“What’s better coffee or tea?” She still hadn’t dropped the bomb and asked the question that had the only useful answer to her.
These questions were easy and you were getting comfortable. Each time another question went by the lingering reminder in the back of your head trying to warn you to be on edge slowly slipped away. Mindlessly you answered her without thought, “Coffee.”
“Who’s your favorite superhero?”
“Batman.” That answer might have been biased, when you really thought hard about it. You changed your answer when you realized you chose Batman because you were in Garcia’s ‘bat cave’, “Wait no- scratch that it’s Spider man.”
“If you could be any animal what would it be?”
“A dog.”
“What is your biggest fear?”
Again, you answered without thought even though it was a harder hitting question compared to your favorite drink or what type of animal you would be,“Being alone.”
“Who would you kiss in the office?” By now you had felt comfortable in the short little game, not even realizing how the questions had shifted to what she had been looking for all along.
“Spencer.” As soon as it came out of your mouth you slapped your hand over it. It was no use, the admission had already escaped and made its way into Garcia’s ear.
“Do you like Spencer?!” You opened your mouth in protest, but the look on your face said it all. Garcia knew she had won when you hang your head down with a sigh, in defeat. “Oh! Morgan was right!”
A little squeak by the door of the bat cave then pulled you out of your embarrassment and Garcia out of her celebration. You were already embarrassed before and it then turned into absolute mortification when you turned to see the source of the noise. Spencer was standing there, slack jawed, holding a file he had meant to give Garcia.
His voice then came out with more stutters and pauses than you had ever heard before from him, “H-hey ggguuys ummm I’ve got to go- take a nap.”
You almost wanted to snort thinking that you’d like to take that nap you’d been planning on too. Garcia went to say something, possibly to break the tension or make it even worse, but he was already gone. He bolted out the door and probably all the way home before you had a chance to explain your answer to the question that just led to even more questions.
—-
As soon as you were finally freed from Garcia’s clutches you bolted as well. Except instead of going straight home to your comfy bed you had been daydreaming about you bolted to someone else’s apartment.
“Hi, Doc.” Was the first thing you squeaked out when Spencer had opened up the door to his apartment after your polite yet incessant knocks.
He blinked at you a few times, perhaps trying to convince himself that you were really here. Clearing his throat he then replied shakily,“Hi.”
“C-can I come in?” It was your turn to stutter now, you wouldn’t lie and say you weren’t nervous about what his reaction might be. The only thing you were sure about is that he wouldn’t be outright disgusted by your feelings. You both had worked with each other for many years, becoming closer each day by day as time continued to tick by. At this point you’d call him your closest friend and you knew he wouldn’t call you disgusting for developing feelings for him. If he was going to let you down he would start by saying it’s only natural. Though, you still felt an ache in your chest even when assured that he’d at least let you down gently. Your relationship with him would be forever changed either way this conversation went.
He swung the door open more after a moment of trepidation, gesturing you through the door. You spent no time gazing around at his apartment, you had been here many times before. Instead you made a beeline for the couch, the comfiest spot to sit. You wanted to be at least comfortable if he was about to break your heart.
“C-can I ask you a question?” He fiddled with his fingers as you both sat down on his couch.
You brought your knees up to your chest as you had slipped your shoes off before sitting down. You also made sure to avert your gaze away from him, not sure if you could handle looking at him in the eyes, “What kind of question? Is it the same one as before?”
“N-no, um- well kinda… Yes and no?” The end of his jumbled sentence went up in pitch, making his own answer sound like another question.
You decided to give him a little mercy, doubting that there was any question he would ask that you would be uncomfortable with. And, you already had a feeling you knew what the question would be, “Alright Doc, I’ll let you ask your question. Go easy on me ok?”
Your little joke on the end was supposed to help him feel less nervous, but going by his awkward laugh it might have had the opposite effect. He still was able to get his next words out with a bit of confidence, “Was your answer back at work- umm honest?
Your heart fluttered at his question, beginning to beat harder in your chest as you prepared yourself to give him an honest reply. You were nervous to answer, even though you knew exactly what it was going to be deep down in your heart. Taking a deep breath you then answered the question with a simple answer, “Yes.”
He seemed relieved at your answer, relaxing his shoulders just enough that you noticed. You’d have to thank Garcia later, for finally getting you to answer the question honestly. Though, just by analyzing his behavior quickly you could tell that he still had something to say and/or ask, “Do you have another question?”
He nodded in response, his body language becoming even more closed off then before. His leg was now bouncing up and down as an attempt to soothe his building nerves. You then gave him what he had been looking for after his first question, permission to ask another, “You can ask another question, Doc.”
Tense silence sat between us for a few moments while I waited for him to speak up. He then got his courage back a little, though he still looked at the ground and fiddled with his fingers when he asked, “Would you like to go out on a date?”
It took no time to process the question, the answering instantly coming to the front of your mind. You then spoke with no trepidation, giving him a simple honest answer, “Yes.”
Ask Me Anything
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#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid fanfic#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds#mgg#mgg x reader#matthew gray gubler#matthew gray gubler x reader#matthew gray gubler fluff#30 fics in 30 days
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