#bureau of seven | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pathologicalreid · 4 months

Note

hello my new favorite tumblr writer 😇 i will b honest i have never requested anything before so!! bear with me. however the spencer reid brainrot is all too real SO would you be open to doing anything with a hotchner!fem!reader? bau or not for the reader! something something hotch is very hesitant about their relationship but maybe reader gets caught in the crossfire of something and hotch and prentiss see them together afterward and prentiss is like “that looks pretty real to me.” DOES THAT MAKE ANY SENSE OKAY I’M LEAVING NOW THANK YOUUUU 🫡

a father's daughter | S.R.

in which your father doesn't approve of your relationship, but who knows how he'll react when reid jumps into action after a threat against your life

who? spencer reid x hotchner!fem!bau!reader category: angst content warnings: general cm violence, blood, stitches, hospitals, medical inaccuracy word count: 2.03k a/n: anon you are legendary. this is an incredible request and i am so honored to be your new favorite tumblr writer! i am an absolute sucker for anything hotchner!reader (or rossi!reader) so i absolutely ate this request up! (also if anyone wanted to drop a request in my inbox... it would be welcome)

Aaron Hotchner was the most professional person in the BAU, except when it came to you. You, like him, had gone to law school. You were a public defender for just a short time before being put into WITSEC, and when your mother died, you applied to the FBI Academy.

Plain and short, it was nepotism, but no one was going to argue with the man whose wife was murdered by a serial killer. Your dad wanted you in the BAU so he could keep an eye on you, and there was nothing Erin Strauss could do about it. What your father couldn’t control, was your relationship with Reid.

He could tell you that he didn’t approve, but so long as David Rossi, king of inter-bureau mingling, was around, he couldn’t actually do anything to stop you. “I’m just saying that I’ve never seen Reid be consistent with a relationship,” your dad said, having pulled you away from the team to, once again, try to warn you off of your relationship.

“He’s been pretty consistent for the last seven months,” you responded, rifling through the victims' files that were in your arms.

You started to make your way out of the empty office when your father spoke again, “And he’s too old for you.”

Stopping in your tracks, you pivoted and faced your father, “He’s three years older than I am, I’m twenty-six. That’s hardly an age gap to bat an eye at.” The two of you had always had a rocky relationship, he missed a large portion of your childhood due to this job and you always tried to not resent him for it.

Your parents’ marriage fell apart, neither of them handled it well, and you weren’t all that surprised. They had gotten married when your mom got pregnant with you because they thought that was what they were supposed to do, and when Jack couldn’t keep them together, everything fell apart.

“You have no right to lecture me on relationships, Agent Hotchner,” you snapped, staring him down. Daring him to challenge you.

He sighed, obviously trying not to lose his patience with you. “I’d just hate for you to find out you wasted your time on something that wasn’t real.”

The door behind you swung open, you spun on your heels to face Emily. “Sorry, uh, we have a location, Morgan’s coordinating with SWAT,” she said, looking between you and your father.

“Great, let’s go,” your father said, his parental demeanor falling away as his Unit Chief mask took its place.

You walked out the door to see the rest of the team, Rossi tossed you a Kevlar vest as you walked over to where Spencer was standing with the police chief, “Where are we headed?” You asked, undoing the Velcro on the vest and pulling it over your torso. The beige precinct was buzzing as agents and officers prepared to break into the UnSub’s home base. Hopefully to find his most recent victim still alive.

Reid reached over and adjusted the strap of your vest, making sure it was evenly tightened over your shoulders. “Garcia found a warehouse on the other side of town. It’s being rented out under an anagram of the first victim’s name,” he said, gently squeezing your arm before dropping his hands back to his side.

Nodding, you followed the rest of the team out the metal doors of the precinct and into the black SUVs. “Your UnSub’s name is Jonas Watts, he used a different name to rent the space but the account he uses to pay for it is under his name,” Garcia’s voice rang through the speaker as she told you about the perpetrator. “He checks every UnSub box we have, raised by a single father after his mother left, and… oh, multiple arrests for assault.”

You looked up to the driver’s seat, your dad was white-knuckling the steering wheel, entirely focused on driving as you listened to Garcia reciting the UnSub’s rap sheet.

When you arrived at the warehouse SWAT was already there and Morgan started organizing the tactical assault. Drawing your weapon, you nodded at your teammate when he instructed you to go around the back with himself and your father. Allowing Morgan to kick the door down, the three of you held your firearms up and began clearing the warehouse.

Further away, you heard Emily and Spencer clearing the front. “Clear, moving up,” you called into your radio as you approached the stairs, stepping on them carefully so they didn’t creak. On the landing, you looked at a trail of blood on the ground. “There’s a blood trail in the upper west wing,” you whispered.

“Move up, little Hotch, I’m right behind you,” Morgan responded.

Rolling your eyes at the nickname, one that you had begged him to stop using, you moved forward, keeping your firearm aimed right in front of you. Turning into the room that the blood trail led to, you immediately ducked when you saw a knife coming for you. Keeping your gun aimed, you faced down the UnSub, “Jonas Watts, FBI!” You announced yourself, scanning the room for the girl he took last night.

Watts shook his head, “You’re not supposed to be here! You can’t be here!” He shouted in distress.

“Where’s the girl, Jonas? Where did you take Isobel?” You asked him, not seeing her in the room the two of you were in. There was another entrance on the left of him.

He stepped toward you, and you cocked your gun, “I don’t have her now. I lost her, she’s lost,” he said, there was a hint of uncertainty in his voice.

Unnerved, you decided to take a leap of faith, “Jonas, where’s your partner?” A partner hadn’t been part of the profile, but the more you thought about it, the more it made sense. The crimes were too complex, it didn’t match up with something as simple as using an anagram of a victim’s name for the warehouse rental.

Morgan filed in behind you, aiming his gun at Jonas, same as you. “Time’s running out, Jonas. If you tell us about your partner we can help you,” he said, slowly inching toward Watts.

“It’s too late,” Jonas wailed.

Someone knocked into you from behind, causing you to stumble forward before you were pulled to your feet. One arm was locked around your torso, and another was holding a knife to your throat. “If you don’t leave now, I’ll cut her fucking throat!” The unnamed man said from behind you, he was almost impossibly tall, easily overpowering you.

You didn’t dare move, not with that knife to your throat, one false move and you’d bleed out. Morgan shouted for him to let you go, but he just pressed the knife tighter to your neck, splitting the skin.

Shutting your eyes, you tried not to cry, fearing the damage it would do to your throat.

Your captor held you tightly to him, using your body to block Morgan from shooting. Something warm trickled down your collarbone, and you weren’t sure if it was blood or tears.

For a moment, you thought you could swing your foot back into his knee, but the fear of having your carotid cut outweighed your bravery.

Ever since you were a kid, you thought death would be quiet. Something you slipped into like sleep, but your death was loud, and it left your ears ringing.

The afterlife was the weirdest place you’ve ever been, someone was calling your name, and you heard your rights being read. Although, why you would need your Miranda Rights in the afterlife you had no idea.

“Angel, please open your eyes,” someone said.

Confused, you opened your eyes and saw familiar eyes staring down at you. Golden and bleary. Spencer, Spencer was here. You tried to sit up, but he held you down, keeping a hand on your throat.

Morgan was shouting for medical, saying there was an agent down. You turned your head to see the still unidentified UnSub on the ground, shot through the temple. Using his free hand to turn your chin, “Don’t look,” Spencer whispered. “You’re okay, I’ve got you. I’m not going to let anything happen to you, angel.”

If you weren’t still coming down from an adrenaline high, you might’ve smiled at the irony of the nickname. Being called ‘angel’ after having your neck cut felt like tempting fate.

Where was your dad? Of everyone here, you expected him to be here, barking orders at people.

As if summoned by your thoughts, your dad appeared, nearly hauling an EMT behind him, “Help her,” he said.

Yeah, that absolutely tracked.

The EMT’s packed your wound and assured everyone that your carotid had not been slit, against your protests, the ambulance brought you to the hospital for stitches. Emily had run to the hotel to get your go bag, allowing you to change out of your bloodied clothes.

Thankfully, the doctors said you didn’t need to stay overnight, meaning you and the team got to go home. “How are you feeling?” Spencer asked while you were waiting to board the jet.

You hummed, pulling your sunglasses over your eyes, and leaning against a car, “Tired, but I’m alright.” Tired might have been underselling it, you felt like all of the energy had been physically drained from your body. “You worry too much,” you whispered, closing your eyes for just a moment. Your throat was a little raspy, but it should go back to normal after a couple of days.

“Your throat was cut about four hours ago, some might say I’m not worrying enough,” he responded, reaching down, and picking up your bag, carrying it over to the jet once they got the okay to board. On the jet, he gestured to the seat, “Lay down, get some rest.”

You furrowed your brows, “Isn’t it kind of frowned upon to take up a whole seat?” You asked, of course, sometimes it happened, but you didn’t want to take up too much space.

Spencer cocked his head at you, “I don’t think anyone is going to fight you on it, love.”

Taking a deep breath, you sat down on the seat, laying down and closing your eyes, falling asleep before you even left the tarmac.

Being the Unit Chief had its perks, surely, but the piles of paperwork sometimes felt never-ending. Aaron took a deep breath before he closed the file, Rossi sat across from him, nursing a glass of whiskey.

“Hey,” Prentiss whispered, taking the seat next to him and setting her glass of water down on the small table. “Do you see that?” She said, gesturing with her head toward where you were lying down, asleep.

Right next to you was Reid, who usually had his nose buried in a book at this point in a flight, but he was wide awake, and all of his focus seemed to be on you. Begrudgingly, Hotch watched as Spencer reached over and tucked a blanket around you as if he was afraid you’d freeze on the temperature-controlled jet. “What about it?” Hotch asked, reaching over for the next file.

His eyes flicked up again, Spencer was sitting on the floor of the jet. Everyone had elected to leave the couch seats for the two of you, but the one across the aisle from you was empty. Like Reid didn’t even want you to be any more than one foot away from him.

Leaning back in the chair, Emily shook her head, “That’s what we in the business call hypervigilance.”

Hotch didn’t respond, he just spared another glance over at the two of you. “’We in the business’?” He inquired, humoring Prentiss.

“I’m just saying… the hovering? The blanket? I don’t know about you, but that looks pretty real to me,” she said, leaning back in the leather seat.

Silently, he glared, it would seem his hopes of getting the team to stop eavesdropping on familial conversations were quashed.

“Just let the kids be, Aaron,” Rossi said, grinning into his glass.

He cleared his throat and flipped open the new file before he acquiesced, “Fine, for now.”

please reblog, like, and/or comment if you enjoyed 🩵

#criminal minds #criminal minds fic #spencer reid #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #margot's asks #written by margot #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds angst

1K notes · View notes

reiderwriter · 2 days

Text

♤ I Can't Help Myself ♤

“Look, Spencer. I probably have nothing against you personally. But I've just been conned into another three months of probationary minimum wage because your boss at the Bureau decided he wanted rid of you for a month or two. Some of us didn't get child genius scholarships for multiple PhDs and aren't receiving two paychecks right now.” “If money is an issue, Y/N, you know I could-” “No. No, stop butting into my personal problems. We can be civil, but we're not… we're not friends, Spencer.” You stepped back and let out another sigh as you forced the words to stand between you. “Okay. I'll stay out of your way.” “Great. Looking forward to it.” “Sure. Me too.”

Synopsis: Just when you think everything is going right for you, Spencer Reid walks into your life and ruins everything. Stealing your job and half of your office, you can manage, but you won't let him steal your heart as well.

Warnings (possible spoilers): Enemies to lovers, academic rivals to lovers, slight age gap, Professor Reader x Professor Spencer, eventual smut, unplanned pregnancy.

A/N: Welcome to my new series! This one specifically is dedicated to the one anon in my inbox that has been asking only for enemies to lovers for like 8 months now, but also to anyone who is a great enemies-with-benefits-to-lovers fan!

Masterlist || 5k Celebration Challenge

Chapter One - Puppet on a String

Chapter Two - 20/5/24

Chapter Three - 27/5/24

Chapter Four - 3/6/24

Chapter Five - 10/6/24

Chapter Six - 17/6/24

Chapter Seven - 24/6/24

Chapter Eight - 1/7/24

Chapter Nine - 8/7/24

Chapter Ten - 15/7/24

Epilogue One - 22/7/24

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #mgg #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid smut #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid criminal minds #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader fluff #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n

464 notes · View notes

uranometrias · 21 days

Text

✮ꜜ : ❛ you're still a traitor : criminal minds x fem! reader [ pt. 1 ]

pairing: aaron hotchner x bau! reader (unrequited) | spencer reid x bau! reader | s7 team x bau! reader (platonic)

summary: being in love with your boss was hard. especially when there were so many factors surrounding you that made the possibility of being with him, out of the question. for starters, there was your age gap, and hotch was a stickler with baggage that he couldn't quite disclose to you. hotch was a fantasy, always out of your grasp, that is until emily dies. in the four months that followed emily's death at the hands of ian doyle, you found yourself living a life that you'd only ever dreamed about. hotch was careful, but the proof was right in front of your face as he went out of his way to care for you while you grieved. how stupid of you not to realize something was horribly wrong. but now emily was back, and hotch was back from reassignment in pakistan, and you were all on trial, and absolutely nothing makes sense except for the bitter understanding that you were a pawn in a game that in so few words was "way bigger than you." but at least you had spence.

content warnings: this is literally a barrel of angst. reader breaks the skin of her palms with her nails. mentions of slight! anxiety. follows the plot of "it takes a village" aka the iconic "this is calm, and it's doctor" episode. flashbacks x present day! spencer has been crushing on reader for as long as she's been crushing on hotch. hotch is NOT romantically interested in reader. slight! hotchniss vibes (but that's up to your interpretation. jj x reader angst! reader does not react to emily's return well. mentions of unit transfer / bureau resignation. spencer confesses to reader... open ending making room for a part 2! heartbreak, drinking, crying. best friend! penelope garcia + derek morgan. reader has a sister & niece.

────────────────────────

Your leg shakes violently as you sat just outside the court room, hands balled into tight fists as your nails press deep into the callousing skin of your palms. You couldn't say you were nervous, as far as the previous case was concerned you'd done everything you could to save Declan. You'd take whatever suspension they'd throw your way without batting an eye. You didn't regret the part you played, no, you just regretted the team that you were apart of.

It had been a crazy seven months. You remembered when things turned left, back when Emily started acting weird. She was shorter, snappier, she had less patience with any of you. Long gone were the days of wasting your time with jokes and innuendos. She had a lot on her mind, a lot none of you were privy to, and you remembered how you'd stretched yourself. You'd all tried so hard to show her you were there, to let her know that you could be trusted.

Your face contorts into a scowl, it had become your new resting face in the last few weeks. God, you hated how stupid and naive you'd been back then. Now that everything was out in the open, it was almost too obvious where the deception began. What was the point of taking care of people who had no trouble treating you like some disposable pawn piece to be moved to fit their whims. Damn. You were crying again, you'd been doing that a whole lot too lately.

You scrub furiously at your face, and you hate your teammates a little bit more. JJ had gone first, face devoid of any timidity or uncertainty. Long gone were the days of Jennifer Jareau the Liaison, she was a profiler now, one of you. When she'd come back, you'd been ecstatic. The unit hadn't been the same since she was transferred, you'd missed her so gravely. But now, now the sight of her just reminded you of the secret you'd been holding on the tip of your tongue.

Hotch wasn't the only one who had known about Emily.

You feel a hand moving to rest on the top of your thigh, and you flinch violently. You sniffle audibly, eyes moving to rest on Penelope, your God-given solace. Your best friend. She, Derek, and Spencer were the only ones who wholeheartedly understood what you felt. But even still, Hotch hadn't used their feelings to make them blind, the way he had done with you. He'd played you like a goddamn fiddle, and you'd let him. Because you were weak, stupid, grieving, and in love.

Hotch had never been in the cards for you, not that you weren't beautiful, gorgeous, an amazing agent. You had the stamp of approval of both Agents Gideon and Rossi. Erin Strauss had been (by your request) rejecting every request of transfer any other unit had tried to offer. You were an asset to the bureau, and a major part of this team. You'd been around since the beginning. You'd witnessed doe-eyed Spencer Reid join at age 23, full of facts and anxiety.

You'd seen Derek blossom and break out of his play-boy persona, and become someone that other branches of the law fought to have. You'd been around for so long, you'd witnessed so much, and Hotch knew that. Which you suppose is what you allowed yourself to believe was the reason he'd never shown signs of reciprocating your feelings. He was respecting your future, leaving your options open. But those were the delusional musings of a girl in love with someone she can't have. Hotch wasn't into you, and you knew that.

So why, why, why did you let him convince you of the opposite? For even one measly second? And, yes, of course in the grand scheme of things you understood why he did what he did. But it didn't make it hurt less. In fact knowing his duty to Emily outweighed his duty to anything else just made this whole ordeal feel more like a slap to your face. Penelope gives your thigh a reassuring squeeze, and you're pulled from your running mind. You blink, registering her worry.

"Are you alright?" she asks, and it's the first time anyone's asked you that since the first day. You know they were giving you space to cope, which only seemed to reaffirm your feelings of betrayal and loneliness. "We'll get out of this, alright? And we'll-we'll be able to be a complete family again." she proceeds, and serves you right for believing someone understood what was going on. They'd all misunderstood you. They thought your behavior was fear of the team being dismantled. Some profilers you were surrounded by.

"I'm fine, Garcia." you say, and you can't bite the snippiness if you wanted to. "I just want to get this over with, and get the hell out of here." you add, and you're standing up, Penelope's hand dropping limply as you move your seat. You find a more isolated corner, plopping back into the uncomfortable seat, as the legs squeak slightly. Your leg is back to shaking, only now you've taken to chomping on your bottom lip. You don't imagine Penelope's hurt expression, you know without a doubt that you'll cave. And you can't.

Not this time.

Your phone chirps in your pocket, and you jump once more. Your jumpiness was a new attribute triggered by the amount of sleep you hadn't been getting. Pulling it out you see that it's a call from your big sister, and you curse under your breath. You were supposed to be watching your niece so your sister could pick up an extra shift. None of you had really expected for things to go this far.

"Hey..." you wince, because you can hear the heaviness of your feelings ladled over your words.

"Hey, are you alright? I got a call from Spence." and you're surprised. You look up, searching for the brunette anywhere in the vicinity, and find that he hasn't shown up yet. It's a bit of a shock, especially for someone as punctual as Reid. You did however spot JJ still meandering about, and she's not looking tense at all. Despite your anger towards her, you couldn't deny that she'd quickly fallen into the role of a profiler. It fit her almost like a glove.

"Spencer called you?" you ask, and you hear the tension in your sister's sigh. You imagine that she must be exhausted. Your sister did a lot, and managing a blossoming family was hard. Your niece was five, and she had a new addition to the family on the way. Which was why it was so important for you to be there on the days she needed you to watch your niece.

"Yes, he said something about..." your sister lowers her voice. "Emily." she questions, and you find your head nodding despite the fact she can't see you. "Are you alright?" she asks again, and this time she emphasizes how important it is for her to hear directly from your mouth the state of your wellbeing. Your sister seemed to always see right through you, it was a wonder she wasn't the one in the FBI.

"I'm-" you trail off before you can lie. "I'm sure if they could they'd disband the unit." you whisper, and you look up just as Derek is exiting the court room, Penelope looking terrified as she takes his place. Derek scans the room before he spots you, and his eyes soften. JJ approaches him and the two seem to chat animatedly. Still they look so serious, there was no room for smiles and banter today.

It's not long though before they're looking at you again, and you know that they know. Your self isolation wasn't something you were exactly being subtle about. You immediately look away, focusing in on what your sister was saying. "Bad decisions or not, they're no good without your unit." she says, and pride still manages to swell up inside of you. "You guys do good work. You work because you're together, everyone plays their role." she proceeds, and it's then you shatter.

Play your role. What role exactly did you play? Hotch was the stoic leader that somehow seemed to play the role of pseudo-father so well for every member of the team, with the exception of Rossi and Derek. Derek, was the shoe-in for promotion. The older brother who teased you relentlessly, but would fight til his last breath to protect you, and he always did. JJ, the pretty girl. The one who everyone on the team at some point had been attracted to. But more than that, she was resilient, a subtle glue that kept your unit running.

You quickly slot through everyone else's roles in your head, and huff. What were you except the odd-woman out. The dummy with a crush on your unit chief, and too much knowledge for your own good. You supposed that was why Hotch had to distract you with exaggerated gestures. If you got out of your feelings and really thought about it, you knew that if anyone on the team was going to see through the smoke, and uncover the truth about Emily, it would be you.

So he had to handicap you. What better way than by hanging the possibility of a romance in your face. Still, it was cruel. Just more proof that this was not the family you made them out to be. "Yeah, I'm not so sure." you reply, and you can hear how disgruntled you sound. It smacks you like a ton of bricks, and it's then you truly realize just how hurt you were by everything. Your sister sighs deeply, and it makes you second guess yourself. Were you being irrational? Unfair?

"I know what Hotch did." she begins, "And it was awful to play with your feelings like that." she expresses, and you feel validated. "And nobody's expecting you to just welcome Emily back with open arms after months and months of thinking that she was dead. You were deceived, and I want you to feel however you want, okay?" she says, and you don't respond, mostly because it feels rhetorical. "Just don't do anything rash without thinking it through alright?"

You don't know what she means by that so your eyes roll. "I think we're well past that, if they find us guilty I could lose my job." you remind her, and she chuckles. You don't find it funny, you can't. Your love for the job outweighed a lot of things, so it had been a no-brainer to help Derek seek out Ian Doyle. You wanted his head spinning on a pike, and you weren't planning to take no for an answer.

two weeks prior.

You were sitting across from Derek, steaming mug of coffee in your head that was more french vanilla creamer than anything else. You held the staged photograph of Declan and Louise. Derek's holding an identical photo, a heady sigh escaping him as you both rack your brains for some sort of bullseye. Something that would point you right in the direction of Declan. "Okay, Emily needed to get Declan a new identity." Penelope says as she walks into the office. She sits in the chair right beside you, arm full of stress balls and files. "So she must have used someone that she trusted." she proceeds.

"Alright, well that's a short list, but it's probably not even written down." is Derek's tired reply.

"Even if it was, she's been so many places, with so many different points of contact. " you speak up, and you take a sip from your coffee, praying it kicks in and wakes you up a bit. "It's not gonna be super easy to track and narrow them all down." you say, and you realize your mistake just as Penelope is placing a file in your hands.

"Oh, tell me about it. Two columns, domestic and imports." she says as she passes the other to Derek, who's looking at you with an amused smile stretched across his face. Serves you both right for underestimating the genius of Penelope Garcia. "I accept your apology, cutie." she says, leaning into you as you grin, smacking your lips in a kiss.

"Hey." JJ's at the door of the office, all three of you turning to look her way as she beams brightly. "Have you guys seen, Spence?" she questions, and you remember how you'd offered to bring him a coffee as a respite from the garbage water they served in the bullpen. He'd shut you down politely asking to reschedule as he was going to be spending his day at the Firing Range. You understood the need, he wanted to protect himself, and the team. He had to get better.

"He's at the firing range." you and Penelope speak in unison, making eye contact, as hers narrow. You knew instantly she would have questions about why you of all people knew Spencer's whereabouts.

"Again?" JJ questions as you shrug your shoulders, her eyes flitting towards you.

"Ever since Prentiss died, he..." Penelope speaks your thoughts.

"Right." JJ nods her head. "Uh... did you guys just get a new case?" she questions, hands clasping together in front of her.

"It's just an old one." Derek answers.

"Do you want some fresh eyes?" she asks, and it's painfully clear that she's still figuring out how to feel more like the team again.

"Not just yet." Derek denies, and he's polite, but you knew why he was being this way. You were all for keeping anything related to Doyle under wraps until you were further along.

"Ok. Um, well let me know." she hums, and then she looks back at you. "Y/N, can I..." your eyebrows raise as she trails off. "Can we talk? It'll only take a second." she hopes, and you look to Derek and Penelope for a moment.

"We won't do anything big without you." Derek promises, and you nod, closing the file, and handing it off, before you stand to your feet. You follow JJ out of the office, and down the hallway, stopping just before you reach the heart of the bullpen. You look to her expectantly, a bit confused, but not on edge. You had missed JJ, and in the two months she'd been back, it'd been pretty hard to get some real time with her. You'd hoped a break in the case would help to change that.

"Everything okay, Jaige?" you ask, and you witness how she exhales in relief right in front of you.

"God, it is now." she says, and your eyebrows jump up. She seems to understand the confusion on your face as she lets out a chuckle, dispelling more of her own tension. "You've been calling me Agent Jareau since I got back... not JJ and definitely not Jaige." she explains, as it seems to register for you. "I guess I was just a little worried I'd done something to make you mad at me." she admits, and she's clearly sheepish.

"Oh." you chuckle yourself, and you reach out to hold her shoulder. "No, you've done nothing wrong." you promise. "I've just been a bit in my head these last few weeks, but I'm really glad you're back." JJ beams at your words, and all the remaining tension in her posture dissipates instantly.

present day.

"Hey, everything alright?" you look up, pulled from your thoughts at the presence of Spencer Reid. He's holding a medium cup of a steaming liquid that you can only assume is coffee, and you find yourself smiling despite yourself. "I remember you asked me a few weeks ago about coffee." he holds it out, and you're quick to press your phone to your shoulder, neck craning slightly as you take it.

"Thanks, Spence." you mumble, and you can practically hear your sister's smirk from the other line. "Could you just give me one second, I'm talking to my sister?" you question, and Spencer nods his head, eyes widening in understanding. You smile politely, and he beams back at you, pretty eyes seemingly brightening before he's making his way over to Derek who's smirking like the nuisance he is.

"Hey." you mumble once he's gone, and your sister is snickering. For some odd reason she'd been dropping hints that maybe the guy on the team you should be setting your sights on was Spencer. To your defense, it wasn't like he wasn't attractive. You'd be an idiot to deny his boyish charm and good looks, but after he'd sat you down and admitted he had a crush on JJ, back during his second year, you'd sort of blocked any potential attraction towards him out of your head.

Now he was just Spence.

"Hey, I should go. I just wanted to check in, Spence made me aware of everything so I've got everything figured out on this end." she promises you, and you nod once more despite yourself. "Just think about what I said, alright? It'd be a shame for you to leave behind such a good job." she finishes, and you don't know how to respond to that, so you don't. "Call me later?" she questions, though you know she's telling you more than asking.

"I will." you reply, and she sounds pleased as she exhales.

"I'll talk to you soon." and then the phone is clicking. You adjust your grip on your coffee, using your free hand to grab your phone, and place it down on your lap. The coffee smelled good, it was from that cute shoppe that sold different pastries and always smelled like cinnamon. You'd been there with Spencer and Penelope a handful of times, and they always made your coffee exactly how you liked it. Still, Spencer had never ordered for you so you await a mishap.

The first sip warms you up instantly, and you're knocked flat on your ass by how on point the drink was. Your eyes snap upwards, looking across the lobby towards Spencer, who's awkwardly sitting in a seat, Derek beside him. JJ was gone now, but you figured she was probably with Hotch and Emily, the three of them had been attached at the hip since the team was "back together". You're certain them being gone was what led you to standing to your feet.

You walk towards Derek and Spencer quietly, slipping into a seat next to Spencer as Derek leaned up against the wall. "I didn't know that you knew my coffee order." you whisper, and Spencer turns to look at you. He offers a half smile, you were certain you'd be passing a lot of those back and forth until the court proceedings were done with.

"Of course I do." he shrugs his shoulders. "I pay attention when you talk." he promises, and you wonder why he had to like JJ, and why you had to like Hotch. On paper, and off paper Spencer Reid was the perfect candidate for boyfriend, plus he never pretended to be into you to keep you from finding out the truth. You both fall into silence, there's not much else to say, but you let his words repeat in your head. I pay attention when you talk. It makes your stomach twist.

"You alright over there, pretty girl?" Derek's voice barely reaches over a whispered volume. It seemed you all were feeling the dreary aftershocks of an ordeal like the one you'd found yourselves in. You look up at Derek tiredly, and you don't understand why he's asking you this, not until you feel the scalding heat of hot coffee singing your skin. Two sets of worried eyes are drawn to your cup, it's squished in your palm, brown liquid streaming everywhere.

"Shit." you hiss, and the cup falls to the floor, you're quick to clutch your burnt hand. God, you were really torn up over this.

"I'll get this cleaned up." Derek promises, and he looks at Spencer as if he was communicating something he didn't want you privy to. Spencer falters, only for a second before he's reaching out for your forearm, and guiding you to your feet. You trail after him, walking down the long corridor, listening out for the telltale sign that Penelope was done, and they'd be calling you next. On your route you pass JJ who looks concerned as she looks between the two of you.

"Spence, Y/N?" she says, and you avert your gaze, you're not sure if you're more angry or embarrassed.

"Sh-she spilled some coffee." Spencer explains, but he doesn't stop walking. "Shouldn't be more than a first degree burn, if she soaks her hand for five minutes, everything should be fine." he is passive as he speaks, eyes never quite meeting hers as he continues to lead you.

"Let me take her." JJ offers, and both you and Spencer are quick to offer denials. She looks hurt but masks it quickly. "It's not like you can go into the girl's bathroom with her, right?" she says and it's then you both realize you've got no other choice. He looks to you, trying to gauge how you'd feel about it, and you sigh. Maybe this was for the best, you could finally get things off your chest with JJ. It was only fair. He seems to clock the instant you've decided, and concedes.

"I'll be right out here." he promises, and you nod slowly. He looks like he wants to say more, but he doesn't get the chance to.

"Spence." JJ says his name a bit more sternly, and he resists the urge to cut his eyes in her direction. He ignores her long enough to take in your ailed hand, he saw the way the skin began to redden and swell. He seems cross as he passes you off to JJ, and you feel a bit silly being fussed over for something as minute as a coffee burn. JJ's earnest in the way she takes you to the nearest women's restroom. You hiss the second the cold water comes in contact with your skin.

You don't say anything to JJ though, losing your nerve the second the two of you were alone. She looks like she's waiting for you to say something though, eyes brimming with some sort of unease. She was reading you, using her new skills to profile you. You suppose that's exactly what pushes you to finally speak. "We said we'd never profile one another." you remind her crossly, and she's sheepish. "Just because you're doing it in your head doesn't make it any less invasive." you keep your wrist in place, hissing silently.

"If you would just talk to me I wouldn't have to go that far." she counters, and you blink. Fair, but you had every right to keep your distance from her. Just because the rest of the team was still more or less unaware of JJ's role in harboring the secret of Emily, you'd read right through her.

"What's there to talk about exactly?" you ask. "None of us want to be here dealing with this." and you take the route of the naive girl.

"I'm not talking about with the trial... and the senators." she shakes her head, and she's almost pleading as she tries to catch your eyes in the mirror. "I'm talking about Emily." she deadpans. "Everything that happened?" she proceeds. "You've hardly said a word to her since she came back." she doesn't want to come off like she's scolding you, and so she takes in a breath before her tone can become defensive.

"I don't speak to ghosts." and it's a quiet little dig that she hears all the same. It forces a tense silence to wash over the restroom, the only sound slicing through the awkwardness is the water rushing from the spout. JJ clears her throat, blinking a few times as she adjusts your wrist, allowing the water to evenly coat your burn. Only a few more minutes of this and you could make your grand escape.

"That's not fair." she finally voices her thoughts with a deep sigh.

"Isn't it?" you snap. "Seven months we thought she was dead." and you suppose that was a mistake of hers, getting you started. "Pretty lucky that you were off at the Pentagon, right?" you ask sourly. "Or was it lucky that you were in on the whole scam? I mean you were at the funeral, but you didn't have to cry, you didn't have to grieve." you accuse, and JJ's jaw slackens, clearly surprised at your outburst.

"I lost my friend too, okay?" she counters and you scoff.

"Did you?" you argue. "All those nights I called you crying, all those texts, those check ins... how long did you know Emily was still alive?" you demand, and JJ's feeling cornered, and her heart rate is picking up. She knew there'd be mixed feelings about this, but she'd never expected to ever be at odds with you. You, Spencer, and JJ rounded out the younger crowd on the team, it was your job to stick together. "Answer me." you insist, and you sound so crushed as you speak.

"I knew the whole time." she answers, and you nod your head, because of course you already knew.

"Exactly." you sneer. "You're a liar." you hate how angry this whole thing makes you, but you can't deny it. They'd played with your feelings, all of them, and now you were meant to behave like nothing was wrong. "Did you know about Hotch?" you ask, and JJ flinches. She doesn't answer for a while, and the water seems to rush even louder in your ears.

"I told him it wasn't smart." she finally answers. "But we needed to ensure that Emily wasn't at risk, it was harmless... just some flirting to keep you from getting too close to the truth." and JJ is speaking as if this wasn't some major breach of your position as coworkers and alleged friends. "He'd never cross the line." she reminds you, and the reminder that yeah, Hotch would never be with you makes you wince.

"And he didn't." she says this like she knows for certain. "It was flirting, Y/N. it didn't mean anything, we just needed you to..." and she trails off when she sees how destroyed you look at her admission. "Y/N..." she trails off, and you inhale sharply.

"Don't." you exhale, and you snatch your hand from her grasp. The cool air of the bathroom immediately attacks the welts blooming on your hand. You don't have time to pay them any mind.

"We just wanted to protect you... and keep Emily safe in the process. The more of us that knew Emily was alive, the more of a liability we'd be while Doyle was still on the run." she says, and you suppose in the grand scheme you understand. As profilers, as special agents working for the FBI they'd done great work. As your friends, as people you'd considered family for years... they'd betrayed you.

Plain and simple.

"Congratulations, you did exactly what you meant to." you say dully, and you sniffle, though no tears are set to come. Instead you feel more anger blossoming in the pit of your gut. "I hope it was worth it." and it's dramatic, but you deserve the dramatics, sidestepping the blonde and leaving her behind just as Emily is stepping inside. She looks at you wide-eyed, before she sees JJ standing there seemingly frazzled.

"Is everything okay?" she questions, and you don't offer her an answer, instead leaving the restroom as your earlier words ring in your head. I don't talk to ghosts. And you don't, and despite your history you'd never allow yourself to. You find your way back to the seats that led to the courtroom, Derek was gone, the only person still there was Spencer. He stands up as soon as he hears your shoes.

"Where's Derek?" you ask quietly.

"He left with Garcia." he answers quietly. "I guess they're dismissed for now. They're in with Dave now." he explains, and your eyes shift to the door. More than likely you or Spencer would be next.

You sit down, and Spencer follows you, sinking back into his seat as his legs just barely brush against yours. "Are you scared?" you ask, and Spencer's head shakes.

"Are you?" he shoots back, and you look away from the door.

"Not of this." you admit. "But of what comes after." you add and Spencer's pretty brown eyes are swimming with confusion. "Can we really all bounce back from something like this?" you ask, and it's rhetorical, but he answers you all the same.

"We've come back from worse." he reminds you, and that faint smile is worming back onto your face.

"Sure we have." you agree numbly. Spencer's eyes drop to your hand.

"How does it feel?" he asks, and you follow his gaze with a shrug of your shoulders. He doesn't look pleased by this approach, and it makes you sigh.

"Just feels like I ran some water over it." you admit, and Spencer chuckles. "A bit anticlimactic if I'm honest with you, Doctor." and you're partly teasing, mostly because it's so easy.

"You'll need some sort of petroleum jelly... there's some pretty good products that aren't at all carcinogenic like the leading brands." he begins on a tangent, and it makes you smile a bit bigger. "That with some gauze is the perfect remedy for such a mild burn." he proceeds and you look down at it. There's a moment of silence between you, before he's talking again. "Can I ask what happened?" he whispers.

You hum, almost like you're pretending you can't hear him.

"With the coffee? Was it not good? I tried to follow your order exactly." he says and you squeeze your eyes closed.

"It wasn't you or the coffee, Spence." you promise him, and without thinking you reach out, small hand resting on his shoulder. "The coffee was perfect." you insist, and he relaxes, but not enough. "I guess I'm just thrown about all of this." you proceed. "No matter how much I try to remind myself that they did this to protect Emily... that their deception was for a good reason, it just makes me angrier. Why is it that I have to rationalize being angry?" you question.

"I have to reign my feelings in for the sake of the team." you're careful not to grow loud. Spencer's eyebrows are pressed inwardly, head shaking.

"You don't." he denies you quickly. "You shouldn't." he corrects.

"You're right." you agree, and your silent for only a second. "I wish everyone could be like you, Spence." you say, and your words surprise him. He feels this familiar wave of adoration that always seems to swallow him whole whenever he was around you.

"Really?" he knows it might be pathetic, to be hopeful for something like this. The chance to hear what popped in your head whenever you thought of him.

"Yeah." you say firmly, and he tries not to look too eager. "You're so smart." you tell him, and he knows this, but it still feels nice hearing it from you. "And you're always nice to me." you add with a quiet laugh. "And you'd never lie to me would you?" you ask, and in truth, it's not a fair question. Spencer wasn't in the position the others were in.

"What do you mean?" he asks, and he fears it may be the wrong response. You don't even react, at least not that he can tell.

"Nothing." you settle on, head shaking from side to side. "Forget I mentioned it." and he doesn't really want to remind you that his memory quite literally makes that impossible. "I heard that you weren't fighting the suspension." you say conversationally, and he's surprised, mostly because the only person he'd told about that was Derek. Which meant you had been talking about him when he wasn't around.

"I guess I just stand by everything we did." he tells you, and your hand still hurts a bit, but it's definitely a problem for a later version of you.

"Me too. I'm glad we got Doyle, and Declan's safe." you exhale, and despite your anguish towards the team, you meant every word.

"And the team's back together." Spencer himself doesn't sound so convinced. You look over at him at this, your own unconvinced expression slowly cracking through his attempt at a cool facade.

"Is it?" you ask, and Spencer's face softens, a small little frown taking over his otherwise usually content face. He couldn't admit it now, mostly because it didn't feel like the right time, but he paid attention to you. He knew all about your complicated feelings for Hotch "I don't want to be on a team with people who purposely keep me in the dark about things." you ask, and Spencer pauses.

"I'm sure they wouldn't if they had another choice." he offers, and it's not how he feels at all, but it's what you need to hear.

"You don't believe that." you deny, and Spencer can't fight his chuckle. "Or maybe you do, you've always been good at seeing the best in people."

"Oh, do you think so?" it's a bit of a surprise. With your job description it would've made more sense for you to tell him that he saw the worst in people. He felt it was a fair thing to say that he was exceptionally good at his job, but it's then he recognizes what it is you're truly saying, or at least alluding to. It makes his face heat up immediately, cheeks blossoming a rosy red that makes him want to roll his eyes.

"Of course." you promise, and then you're looking at him again. Your face is one of the prettiest he's ever seen, and it's not even subtle. You seem a bit uncertain of your own allure though, which to him is a major shock. "You're like the best person ever." you add, and he expects you to snicker or show some sign that you were joking, but you don't. Bad for him, because his deluded mind full of fantasies starring you would take words like those the wrong way.

"I think you're the best person ever..." he's whispered this, but you hear it all the same, and he's lucky enough to witness the way your entire face morphs. Despite the bleariness in your eyes, you beam brightly. He hates though, that you start to cry. It starts with one tear slipping down your cheek and dripping into your lap. The onslaught comes right after, and before you know it, you're choking on sobs.

"God..." he hears the bitter tang of self-loathing that attaches and weaves itself into your otherwise honey-filled tone. "You're making this so hard, Spencer." you huff, and you scrub at your face harshly. He doesn't understand, but he's too frozen in place to ask you what you mean. Lucky him, you seem to know that you've got explain a bit, so you do. "I'm gonna resign." you say this quietly, sniffling as more tears fall. Spencer feels like he's misheard you.

He wants to have misheard you. He flounders a bit, and he's mentally scolding himself, because he has to hurry the fuck up and say something. "You can't!" and he's scolding himself again for sounding too eager. You jump a bit at the outburst, and he winces right along with you. "We just got everyone back." he reminds you, and you exhale, head nodding in understanding.

"I know." you promise him. "Why do you think this is so hard. You think I want to be the asshole that turns the unit on its head?" you ask. "But I can't stay here and pretend that everything's fine... or act like I don't feel thrown about all of this." you proceed, and of course, Spencer understands, he's upset he was lied too as well.

"I understand." he admits with a sigh, and you let out a quiet noise of relief, almost like you were worried he'd be upset with you. He assumes this is just him being delusional again. You look like you have something sitting on the tip of your tongue, so he stays silent to give you the room to say all that you need to.

"Have you ever had feelings for someone?" you ask. You chuckle at the look he shoots you, "Not just for a second, Spence." you proceed. "I mean like... take your breath away, kind of almost-in-love feelings." you indulge, and Spencer's keen to shut his mouth. Yes, is the loud and resounding answer that rings in his head, because foolishly he'd allows you to captivate him like the siren you were almost three years prior. He'd be a dummy to tell you such now though.

"I-" he blinks harshly, eyes feeling too dry. "I can't say I have." he lies, and he remembers your words from earlier, how you'd praised him for being someone who would never lie to you. You don't seem to notice his deception though, and if you do, you're too in your own head to comment on it.

"Good." you say with a shuddered breath. "They're nothing but a headache, especially when the person doesn't want you back." you exhale the words, and it's like a dagger is being lunged into his chest. How dense could you possibly be with all your super smarts?

"Did something happen with Hotch?" he asks, and now it's your turn to be embarrassed, face pinching up as you choke on a breath. "I don't mean to pry, if it's personal... it's just that-" he trails off, seemingly waiting for you to berate him or tell him to back off. You don't, instead your nose twitches, and you begin to look at your shoes. "Y/N?" he nudges you with his elbow, and it's light.

"No." you finally say, head shaking. "I thought maybe..." you trail off, more embarrassment slicing at you as you cringe. "But it was all a ruse, just a way to keep me from getting too close, and figuring out everything about Emily before they wanted us to know." you say and Spencer's eyebrows furrow.

"They?" he pries, and you look at him like he's silly.

"Hotch and JJ." you answer plainly, and it takes Spencer a second. JJ who he'd went to for comfort for ten weeks? He blinks at you, and you shrug. "So you see... anyone that could take my feelings and use them to manipulate me... are they really worth sticking around for?" you ask, and Spencer doesn't want to validate you in this way. He wants to be selfish, he wants you to stay on the team.

He thinks about how devasted everyone would be. How devasted he would be to walk into the bullpen and find that your desk was empty.

"I don't want you to go..." he admits, and it's quite pitiful, the sadness that soaks the words like gasoline. You find yourself chomping on your lip again, nails pressing into the cuts of your palms, and Spencer's catching your bad habits in real time.

It's a bit invasive, the way his hand surges out, and stops you in your tracks. "Please don't do this." and you're not sure if he's talking about leaving the unit, or if he's referring to the gashes littering your hands. When he holds your palm out flat, and rubs his thumb across the bleeding indentations, you find that you understand quickly.

Every few seconds it's ebbing with more droplets of blood, and he's quick to wipe them away like they offend him. Just as he's moving to say something else, the doors to the courtroom are opening, and Dave Rossi is exiting, his eyes immediately on you and Spencer. You must look foolish, hands intertwined as you stare wide-eyed at the team's senior agent. It's probably why Spencer is dropping your hand as you're snatching it away from his grasp.

You still find that your eyes are quick to appraise one another. He's looking at you, and you're staring back, mouths parted as if you'd been caught. Had you been caught? Had there really been anything to catch? You don't have time to answer, because you're being called next. You frown at Spencer, standing to your feet as he feels his pulse threaten to leap to disrespectful speeds.

"Y/N..." he calls after you, and you stop for a second. Eager eyes fall back on him, and he's trailing off, because the look in your eyes says it all. If you got out of this without being fired, you could imagine a world where quitting the FBI no longer made you sick to your stomach. Silence befalls the space, and he shakes his head after a beat. You look disappointed but not surprised, inhaling deep and audibly as you march towards the court room.

Spencer doesn't know what you're going to say, but he hopes recalling all you'd been through in the last few weeks will be enough to make you stay. At least until he has the courage to ensure that you leaving the team doesn't equate to losing you entirely and completely.

616 notes · View notes

rynbutt · 1 month

Text

pierced. pt. 8 | spencer reid.

When you told Spencer you loved him, he didn't know how to react. JJ helped him see what he was missing... but what if he never got to tell you himself?

you can find the other parts on my masterlist.

cw: fem!reader, angst, guns, criminal minds shiii, mentions of murder, being shot, etc.

a/n: re-upload cus i was unhappy with the previous one >:(

You and Spencer had been together for seven months.

Seven months of impromptu late night visits to your apartment when he got back from trips, watching his favourite documentaries while he talked the whole way through them, your surprise visits to the bureau with a box of pastries, seven months of proving to Spencer that he was worth every ounce of happiness he felt.

Spencer didn’t believe in miracles or signs, but just your pure existence was enough for him to ponder such things. You understood him, you were patient with him and his demanding work, you were kind to him and let him ramble about whatever was on his mind, even if it took him far too long to get to the point. You never got angry with him when he shut down or had a hard time verbally communicating his problems, you were just there and that was enough.

You knew you loved Spencer, it was hard not to. You knew how Spencer felt about the ‘chemical and hormonal reactions of affection’, if anything it made you love him more, how technical and literal he was about virtually everything. You loved him nonetheless and you knew you wanted to tell him, even if you would never hear it back or you would be met with an analysis of why you felt ‘love’ for him. How it was all technically just your vast attraction and affection towards him and the bond you’d created. You’d roll your eyes and tell him you loved him anyway.

“You got your keys?” You called from the bathroom as you combed your hair.

Spencer had slept over once again. He basically lived with you, many of his clothes and books were packed into your cupboards and shelves, some pairs of his shoes sitting in the bottom of the closet next to yours. He even spent time going over case files while you were still at work, making sure to feed Tofu and have dinner ready for you. You had fallen into a domestic routine and you knew how much Spencer liked routine.

“Yeah, what time will you be home?” Spencer called back from the living room, gathering case files and books into his satchel.

“Maybe five? I have an early finish,” you replied, leaning close to the mirror to comb mascara through your lashes. You heard Spencer’s footsteps nearing as he approached you in your ensuite, pulling the door open to kiss you goodbye.

“Okay, I just have paperwork to do today, maybe we can go out for dinner tonight?” He suggested, leaning his head against the doorframe.

“Sounds perfect, Spence,” you smiled.

“Okay,” he grinned, “I’ll see you tonight. Call me before you leave?”

“Yup, I will,” you turned to look at him. Spencer leaned down to kiss your cheek.

“Okay, angel,” he smiled, turning to leave your bedroom. “Bye!”

“I love you!” you called out, grinning at yourself in the mirror when you heard his footsteps come to an abrupt stop. You knew he hesitated for a moment before the footsteps continued and your apartment door latched closed.

Spencer wasn’t one for proclamations of love, cringing at the scenes in rom coms before over analysing every detail. You would always remind him that it was just a movie, and that it’s nice to tell people you love them. Spencer always dismissed the idea, but you weren’t going to sway on telling him you loved him, you felt like he needed to know that someone loved him and that in a room full of people, he’s the only one you would look for.

You weren’t offended when he didn’t say it back or come running back into the bathroom to confirm what you said. If anything, you expected it. You just wanted him to know how you felt.

Spencer drove in silence, both hands gripping the wheel as he replayed your confession in his head. Sure, his parents had told him they loved him when he was a young kid, but Spencer knew it was because of maternal and paternal instincts. But you. You loved him because you knew him, because you understood him, learned his flaws and loved him anyway.

He walked into the bullpen in his own little bubble, barely registering that other people had greeted him as he made a beeline for his JJ’s office. Spencer shoved the door open, startling JJ who was on the phone to Will.

“Spencer? What- Hold on,” JJ said.

“Y/N told me she loved me,” Spencer almost yelled, his hands gripping the strap of his satchel.

JJ stared at him for a moment before bringing the phone back to her ear, “Hey, Will. I’ll call you back, okay?” She hung up the phone, turning her attention to Spencer, “...what’s wrong with that?”

“I don’t know! I just- I didn’t expect it, and I’m not sure how I feel or if she’s mad because I didn’t even say it back and I don’t even know if I should say it back-” he rambled, pulling a chair out to sit at JJ’s desk.

“Do you love her?” JJ asked, eyes narrowing at Spencer who seemed entirely too worked up.

“What?” Spencer asked.

“Do you love her?” JJ repeated. Spencer opened his mouth and JJ held up her hand, knowing he was going to ask an overly analytical question, “When I ask if you love her, I mean do you miss her when she’s not around? Or do you get excited when you see her? Do you look forward to seeing her at the end of the day?”

Spencer stared at her a moment, thinking about it, “I do… But feeling affection toward someone you care about is entirely normal-”

“What you feel is love, Spence,” JJ replied. “It’s probably something new to you but you don’t have to fight it.” “I’m not fighting it,” Spencer retorted, “I’m thinking about it factually-”

“You’re fighting it,” JJ said blankly. “You’re probably afraid to lose her, afraid that it’ll all go wrong somehow just because you say you love her… In my opinion, it’s important to remind the people you hold close that you do love them, before it’s too late to tell them at all.”

Spencer didn’t say anything as he thought about it, his lips forming a tight line.

“Loving her looks like it comes naturally to you,” JJ said honestly.

Spencer spent the rest of the morning thinking about it, thinking about you and how irrational he felt when it came to you. He wanted to make you happy, wanted you to be proud of him. He wouldn’t care if he had no one else as long as he had you.

The case they were working on was local to the area. Spencer didn’t anticipate working on a case at all, no one did, but after Hotch called them in, they realised they had little time to act. Three women had been abducted over a week, all turning up dead within 24 hours. The most recent victim they were looking for had maybe 12 hours before she would be found the same way.

They worked the case all day, Spencer and Rossi stayed behind to set up a geographical profile while Emily, Hotch and Morgan visited the morgue to establish victimology. It helped Spencer take his mind off the guilt of not returning your confession. He knew he was definitely thinking about it more than you were, it’s the type of person you were. You were honest and you were never ashamed of your feelings, he always wished he could be like that.

By the four hour mark, Spencer and Rossi were sure they had established the UnSub’s comfort zone and with help from Garcia, they had found where he was keeping the last victim.

It all moved so fast from there.

The house was secluded, a large shed in the back and surrounded by mostly forest. Hotch sent JJ, Morgan and Spencer to cover the shed while he stayed back with Rossi and Emily to cover the house. Spencer held his gun close as he rounded the shed, searching for a way in. He suddenly thought of you and he didn’t know why.

Spencer heard the victim before he saw her. He called for JJ the moment he saw her hunched in the corner, duct tape over her mouth and her wrists and ankles bound. Spencer put his gun away, gently peeling the duct tape from her mouth.

“You’re okay,” Spencer said, peeling the tape from her ankles.

The girl began crying, “thank you,” she hiccuped, tears streaming down her bruised face, “thank you.”

“We found her,” JJ said into her mic, putting her gun away as she helped the girl to her feet. “Where’s the UnSub?”

“I don’t know,” Spencer muttered, wracking his brain.

They walked outside, Spencer helping hold the girl up as she stumbled on her weak legs. Morgan jogged over to them, “Where the hell is he?”

“Help Hotch and Rossi,” JJ suggested.

Spencer frowned as he looked around, “he could very well be watching us-”

Spencer felt the pang against his abdomen before he heard the gunshot. Before he knew it, he was on the ground, a splitting pain surging through his body from his right side. He heard the victim scream, JJ diving to the ground with her.

His chest felt heavy, like a weight had been dropped on him. He blindly reached his left hand down, feeling the warmth oozing from his abdomen, not the best place to be shot. He lifted his hand, crimson blood covering his skin. His ears were ringing, he couldn’t hear, could barely see. All he could think about was you. You, you, you.

“Spencer!” JJ yelled, crawling to his side, “oh my god.”

“We need an ambulance!” Morgan exclaimed. Two of the local officers escorted the UnSub out of the house in handcuffs.

Spencer looked up at JJ, her hair hanging down in front of his face, blocking the bright sun, “Can-Can you do me a favour?” His voice was weak, every word hurting his chest as he spoke.

“Just- shit! Hang on a minute!” JJ pressed her hands against the wound, Morgan falling to her side to press his over shirt against the wound, trying to stop the bleeding.

“Can you tell- Can you please tell Y/N I love her,” Spencer muttered out, breathing heavily.

“You can tell her yourself, kid,” Morgan replied, his hands covered in Spencer’s blood. After that, Spencer felt himself growing more and more tired, his eyes falling closed as JJ and Morgan yelled for him to stay awake. He couldn’t do it, he was so tired, he just needed to shut his eyes. Just for a minute.

You felt like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders when you told Spencer how you felt. It was always important to you that the people you cared for knew how much you appreciate them, Spencer was no exception. But you knew Spencer probably wouldn’t say it back, at least not right away, and you were okay with that. You were sure he would come around eventually. Eventually was good enough for you.

You sat at your desk for most of the day, only getting up to refill your mug or get on the ass of one of your coworkers who hadn’t submitted their project yet. You hadn’t heard from Spencer all day, which upset you a little given that Spencer was always calling or texting you about something. You understood it probably had something to do with your love confession.

By the time five o’clock had rolled around, you still hadn’t heard from Spencer. So you decided to call him. Your phone rang for a short while before you heard his voicemail, you assumed he was probably still busy with work.

“Hey, Spence. I’m on my way home now… Call me when you can,” you said before hanging up. You leaned against the elevator wall, wondering if maybe you frightened him a little too much.

As if on cue, Penelope’s name blinked across your screen, you answered the call, “Hey Pen-”

She sounded frantic, “Y/N, thank god! Y/N, Spencer’s in the hospital-”

“What?!” You stood bolt upright, your hand death gripping your phone.

“He was shot! We-We were working a case and he was just-”

“Where is he?” You ran as soon as the elevator dinged open, fumbling for your keys in your purse as you ran to the car garage.

“We’re at the hospital, he’s in surgery and I-”

“Send me the address, I’m coming now.”

You weren’t sure how you didn’t get pulled over with how fast you were driving. You couldn’t think straight, all you had on your mind was Spencer. You pulled into the closest car park outside the ER, not even bothering to check if you were supposed to pay or not.

You bolted inside, your heart in your throat the moment you saw everyone sitting in the waiting room. Hotch was pacing back and forth and Penelope looked like she had been crying. You didn’t even realise it but you had been crying too, hot tears streaming down your face. Penelope saw you first, darting up from her seat to meet you halfway.

“You’re here,” she muttered into your hair, holding you tight.

“W-What happened?” Was all you managed to get out.

“We were tracking an UnSub and we found one of the victims on his property and he just- he shot him. I don’t even-” Penelope let out a deep breath.

“Fuck,” you breathed, feeling as more tears began streaming down your face, ruining your makeup.

“Y/N…” JJ came to hug you, wrapping her arms around your shoulders. You held JJ for a moment as you cried, sniffling into your hand.

“Where is he?” You asked as JJ pulled away.

“He’s in surgery,” JJ replied, guiding you over to sit down with the rest of the team. You felt numb as you sat down next to Emily, your hands held tight in your lap. JJ was talking to you but you couldn’t hear her, you couldn’t hear anything. Emily rubbed your back, letting you cry softly as she comforted you.

It was hours before you heard anything. You had cried so much that it made you exhausted, falling asleep against Emily. Rossi draped his coat over you, letting you rest until the surgeon came out to the waiting room. Emily gently shook your shoulder and you shot up once you noticed the surgeon.

“He’s okay.”

You felt like the weight of the world lifted off you.

“Can I see him?” You asked. “He’s on a lot of pain medication-”

“Please,” you sounded pained.

“Of course,” the surgeon said, “he might be out of it for a few days, but for now he’s stable.”

One of the nurses guided you to his room as the surgeon briefed the rest of the team on Spencer’s condition. You would ask JJ to give you the details later, all you wanted right now was to see Spencer, hold his hand, just be with him.

Your heart squeezed when you saw him, cords hanging around him everywhere, an IV in his arm and his eyes closed. He would have looked like he was peacefully asleep if it weren’t for the beeping, the needle in his arm, the sterile smell of the hospital ward and the thin tube under his nose.

You pulled a chair next to him, sitting down by his bedside and reaching for his hand. His hand was still warm despite the coldness around him. You let out a sigh of relief, bringing his hand to your lips to press a kiss to his knuckle.

No one could get you to move after that. Penelope and Morgan tried to get you to come get food with them, Hotch and Rossi both offered to drive you home so you could get some sleep. You refused. You couldn’t leave him, not now. Not when he needed you.

a/n: i'm a degenerate when it comes to mgg

taglist: @crazycat-ladys-blog @cillsnostalgia @secretly-tumb1r @33-81 @elissanatok @outrunangelss @cultish-corner @666-gothic-bat-666 @evvy96 @littlemarvelstan8 @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @meg-black @dreamsarebig @anuncalledbridge @fioletowelowe @ladylincoln @spencereidsgf420 @bollzinurmouth @scarlettssub @ipseitydelrey @donttrustlove @mcntsee @ruziazyn @valinherfantasyworld @khxna @maybe-not-this @shardsofmarxx @danadinosaur3 @justsarahbella @ah-blossom @lorelaireid @btskzfav @reidsdoll @pinkpantheris @violetvsworld @readergf @pangirl-fangirl @emideadpoets @blackbeautyiloveyouso @feyresqueen

655 notes · View notes

railingsofsorrow · 5 months

Text

summary: in which a phone call ruined your day.

... or not, because your boyfriend made sure to be there for you until you were okay again. pairing: s. reid x gn!reader

w.c: 2.1K

warnings/content: reader is reckless and puts themselves in danger (one time); angst; mentions of shutting people out; an argument happens but the fluff comes right after; case-related violence; reader is going through something but it isn't explained; mentions of past bad habits; be aware of spelling errors.

A/N: my finals aren't over but I forced myself to take a break for the night. thus, I'm posting this hurt/comfort blurb. hope you like it.

navi

masterpost

cm masterlist

would you like to enter my taglist?

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“you're mad.”

the day started good. you even got breakfast at home, which is something it almost never works out. but a case only arrived at around nine, so you had time to eat something before leaving.

spencer made toast, crispy, just the way you liked it. you sipped on your orange juice as he took his coffee, hand resting above yours in the comfortable morning silence you liked to partake in.

the day started good.

until things went south really quick.

it all begun with a phone call. not a work call, you were pretty used to those and when hotch called you up to the briefing room, everybody was already filling out paperwork in the bureau.

your mood went sour in a matter of seconds. you think you were able to desguise it from most of the team, though. except for spencer and maybe emily, because emily noticed every eyelash that was out of place, she couldn't even help it.

the news you got caused you to retract back to old habits, shutting people out and drowning in work to avoid thinking about it. you were numb, doing everything on autopilot, but you didn't let it compromise your professionalism. never. that fucking phone call wouldn't make you a bad profiler for a second. you wouldn't let it.

being numb lead you to be impulsive. and you took advantage of that. you'd jump straight into action just to avoid dealing with your problems. just to forget.

“i'm not mad.”

your boyfriend's tone was clipped, short. almost cold, but it didn't got that far yet. it took a lot to make spencer reid mad. but when it happened, and you were the reason, you were always conflicted on whether to let him cool off for himself, give him space, or beg for forgiveness right after you screwed up.

this time, you decided on the former. you don't think it worked that well.

the unsub had a gun pointing at a seven year old child. he was cornered in every way possible. police cars were still arriving at the scene, although five FBI agents aimed at the man, ready to shoot in case he so much as twitched a finger on that trigger.

anxiety ran along the bystanders as they watched it all happen in their neighborhood. you hadn't plan that, in fact, all of you had planned something else entirely. the profile was solid as well as the location and the unsub's endgame.

but people are unpredictable. no matter how hard you've studied the human brain. in certain circumstances, they would be capable of anything. including threatening children's lives.

your boss advised everyone to stay back. that they had it covered. it was only a matter of talking him down, carefully and with confidence.

but the second you heard the sob of that seven-year-old boy, you stopped focusing on the command reaching your earpiece. bulletproof vest and gun set aside, you marched forward, no ounce of hesitation. you knew what you were doing.

“spencer.” you followed him into your bedroom, a tired sigh leaving your lips as you felt your legs wobble slightly. you were exhausted. the day was hell both physically and mentally and you just wanted to take a good shower and sleep for forty eight hours. you wanted to forget it ever happened. you wanted to forget that phone call.

he didn't spared you a glance as he grabbed a pair of clothes to get into the bathroom. there was it. that coldness you hated. it was finally here. “spencer, please. can we talk?” you begged. if there was one thing that suffocated you was sleeping while upset. and your boyfriend was an elite grudge holder. you just couldn't do that tonight.

“of course.” he leaned back from the door just before entering the bathroom. an impassive expression across his featured as he turned to you. you wanted to scream at him. “you've been avoiding me all day, but you want to talk now? of course.”

okay. you deserved that.

did you though? why couldn't he make your life a little easier?

“sorry I was rude to you,” you said, holding back the petty comment wanting to slip out of your tongue. sorry I'm going through something and you're being an idiot about it. “i didn't mean to. I shouldn't have treated you that way.”

spencer's tongue poked around his cheek and you braced yourself for what was about to happen. an argument. in the middle of the night — morning, it must have been past two am.

“i don't care that you were rude the entire day.” spencer clarified as if that would make things better. “i care that you threw yourself in front of a psychopath with a gun, without a bulletproof vest and only your hands to work as a shield.”

“you had my back.” you insisted, recalling the moment the whole team started to shout at both you and the unsub. they were behind you, you had good coverage. “someone needed to talk him down.”

he didn't seem to be on the verge of snapping anymore. his shoulders were slumped. he was tired too. he was exhausted. it has been a long day and you needed to rest. you needed to sleep. you needed to forget.

it had started as a good day.

“we were doing that.” spencer mumbled, softly. he eyed your bitten cuticules, the bandage in your arm and your far away gaze. spencer wasn't stupid. he noticed things. he noticed you. he knew something was wrong from the moment you excused yourself to take a phone call in the middle of the case briefing. you came back into the room a different person. contained. robotic. strictly professional. “why couldn't you wait?”

“it was a child. he was scared.” you snapped, flinching away from him. “he didn't have time to wait.”

spencer pressed his brows together, deciding to not mention the time you did have to do what you had to do. statistics wouldn't help now. “you could have gotten shot in the chest.”

“it barely grazed my arm.”

“that's not the point!”

“and what is?” you yelled back, turning to him, fuming. “there is no point. the boy was in danger. you decided to wait. I decided to act. he's alive. I'm barely hurt. the case is over.”

spencer faltered, seeking something in you that he wasn't able to find. his gaze travelled accross yours in a desperate attempt to make you realise how stupid that single sentence was. one mistake. one wrong move. and you could have been somewhere else instead of in your shared apartment.

a bodybag.

“who called you?” you blinked at him, taken aback by the question. you expected him to blame you further. you even expected him to ignore you for the rest of the night. you would not back down. “i know something happened. someone happened. you're not... you wouldn't do that if you were thinking.”

“so because I'm impulsive one time, you're questioning my judgement?”

“when your judgement makes me almost lose you, yes. I am.” he crossed his arms, licking his lips as he studied you. profiled you. you fucking hated him right now. you wanted to rip his brains out.

“there was an entire team aiming at the guy, spencer.” you scoffed, pressing a thumb against your forehead, a headache brewing. your will to argue has vanished. you just wanted to sleep.

“you were blocking our aim.”

“can you stop?”

“no.”

you no longer had control of your emotions as your sight begins to be blurred by tears. fuck, I can't do this.

the room became silent. as if hearing your inner turmoils, spencer paused. he thought it through, any possibility that might have caused your sudden mood change. your impulsiveness. he thought he had done something, but by your reaction it wasn't that. it wasn't him.

it all shifted after that phone call.

you didn't retract when he approached. you didn't reject his touch or pushed him away. but you remained frozen, locked up in your own cage.

“do you want to talk about it?”

it had started as a good day.

you stood up, brushing your strands behind your ears and swallowing up the feeling of something permanently lodged in your throat.

you didn't turn to watch his expression faltering in disappointment. you didn't had the guts to see it.

“no.” you said. “i'm fine. I'm going to take a shower. I'm tired.” you left to your shared bedroom without a goodnight, knowing it would be pointless since you'd be sleeping alone tonight.

sleeping was a strong word. you closed your eyes, pressing your eyelids so tight that you're seeing stars. tossing and turning for around one hour in an empty bed was enough to leave you upset. the weight of the day and the argument you had with your boyfriend taking a toll on you.

maybe you hadn't been fair to spencer. it's not like he did anything to force your sudden mood change; he had absolutely nothing to do with it, actually. he wasn't responsible for that phone call, he wasn't the person at the other line whose voice you didn't want to hear ever again. he was just the one at the receiving end of your irritability.

your boyfriend, he wasn't one to pry. to force you to speak of things that made you uncomfortable. things you weren't ready to discuss yet. he was the kind of person who would ask if everything was alright and he would make sure you knew you had a shoulder to cry on and a ear to vent if necessary.

spencer was caring and respectful. he knew you needed space just as he did at some moments. so much so that he wasn't sleeping on the couch because he was mad at you — though you had been rude for that to be case — but because being around him, or anyone for that matter, would only set you off.

his curled up frame on the couch, half covered by the blanket and half uncovered to the night air. curls splattered around the pillow he stole from your bedroom when you were still in the bathroom. you wanted to bury yourself into his arms and never leave him again. you wanted his warmth all over you.

standing on the entrance of the living room, you watched his eyelids move incessantly. it was what told you he wasn't in a deep sleep.

he was pretending to be sleeping and you knew he was aware of your watchful eyes.

“i'm sorry.”

you mumbled into the uncomfortable silence, scratching your arm beneath the bandage in nervousness. shifting into your feet, you contemplated approaching him, but remained in the spot.

he peaked at you as his eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness of the room. he moved to a sitting position, outstretching a hand in your direction. an invitation.

“c'me here.”

you didn't need to be told twice.

“i'm sorry I was rude to you, I didn't mean it. you were just there and I—” he shushed your ramble with a kiss to your temple, arms squeezing you against him the way you craved in bed a few minutes ago. “i'm sorry, spencer. please don't be mad at me.” the last part you let out in a soft whisper but it only made him pull you closer as a form of comfort, to erase the pain you were feeling.

spencer cupped your cheeks so you would look at him “i'm not mad.” he promised, thumb grazing your face lovingly. “i just thought you needed space, but I promise I'm not mad, okay?”

you nodded with your lips trembling slightly. you were fairly certain that if you were to speak anything right now you'd burst into tears immediately.

you did manage to let out i don't want space, I want you. because it was all that you needed right now. always.

he kissed every teardrop that slipped out after that, bringing you closer to lay on his chest as he rested his back against the arm of the couch.

“i'm here, baby.” he whispered, fingers dancing across your arms. “always.”

you turned on his hold to be face to face with him, lifting one hand to touch the side of his face, caressing his jaw where you felt the growing stubble on his chin.

“thank you.” you said, smiling faintly when he pecked the tip of your nose.

he ended up covering the both of you with the spare blanket.

he breathed out as if pretty satisfacted with your current position, even though you both will most certainly be complaining of backache as soon as you wake up tomorrow. “i love you.” he let out, not minding about the pain in his joints in the morning. the only thing that mattered was you in his arms, safe and sound.

the day started good, until a phone call ruined it completely.

or not. because spencer was there and he kind of made things bearable. and if he could just make you feel better for a little while, that's what he would do.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

taglist: @lilyviolets

#reader insert #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x gn!reader #spencer reid hurt/comfort

514 notes · View notes

yourmomxx · 6 months

Note

Emily Prentiss(chief or not cheif) X Fem!Reader have been secretly married for several years, (if emily is cheif they’ve been dating since she was an agent and then married when she was a cheif and if not obviously the opposite). No ike knows or expects emily to be in a relationship because she doesn’t say anything until one day she forgets her badge and lunch at home so her wife brings her stuff and the whole place is shocked ? bonus if tara or someone flirts with her

a/n: ooh, I love me some secret relationship trope! Unfortunately, I'm still only on season 5/6 of Criminal Minds, so I just kept Emily as an Agent and not as Chief, if that's alright (Tara is in it, though ;)). I hope you like this, anon!

— ❝ɪɴ ᴛʜɪs ᴛᴇᴀᴍ, ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴏɴᴇ ᴋɴᴏᴡs ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴏɴᴇ. Tʜᴇʀᴇ’s ɴᴏ ᴘʀɪᴠᴀᴄʏ. Mʏ ᴘᴇʀsᴏɴᴀʟ ʟɪfᴇ ɪs ᴏɴᴇ ᴛʜɪɴɢ ʟᴇss ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴄᴀɴ ᴘʀᴏfɪʟᴇ.❞ —

-Jennifer Jareau

Emily Prentiss was a private person. She prided herself in it.

I mean try it, hiding something from an entire office of educated professionals in degrees on how to read the most subtle shifts in a persons behavior and building a view based on that information.

Of course, let’s not forget, there’s the general rule, or rather, interdict, of profiling the other members of your team. But sometimes, you can’t help yourself.

Emily had noticed it in herself more times than she would like to admit.

Sometimes, it happened as easy as breathing, a natural trail of thought that let loose when she caught on about something or the people around her. She tried to undermine it as quickly as possible whenever she realized she was doing it, though.

It’s not the fact that she didn’t trust them.

No, that was never the thing, those people were like her second family. Or her first even, maybe.

But after spending almost every waking hour of the past years of her life around them, there were some things that she would rather keep for herself.

Leave them be in their own bubble that was just ‘Emily Prentiss’.

And when she talked about ‘things’, then she was actually talking about you.

The team could find out about her pregnancy, about her resentment towards the church. They could know that she had a phase at fourteen where she liked licorice and hasn’t been able to eat it since those dreadful seven months, or that she still hated her father for being emotionally unavailable and leaving her to deal with her mother on her own; they could know that.

But they couldn’t know about you. Never you.

This is wasn’t an issue of trust, again.

Trust was never in the mix when she made the decision, every morning before work, to lay off her wedding ring and keep it safe on a small chain in her back pocket.

But you were her safe place. A rock, a tow, something for her to hold on to, the only thing that was in no way connected to her work place.

Emily loved you, she did so much, and she’d known it after the first time she saw you smile, and accepted it during the first time she kissed you.

And hiding you, keeping you safe from all of this, was her way of shedding off the horrors and traumas of her job when she came home at night, completely tune out whatever she had experienced mere hours before, and dive back into you.

Your shared house, shared bed, shared sheets, shared kitchen, shared table.

Not talking about you, or even admitting you existed, while she worked and saw the worst sides of what humanity had to offer, drew a distinct line between her life with you and the life she led at work.

Call it a personal protective shield.

So, no, she would never, ever tell them.

“No. For God’s - No.”

Which is why, when Emily Prentiss walked into the bureau that morning, and realized her credentials weren’t in their designated pocket, and also her bag was empty of her lunch box, she knew that she was doomed.

Emily knew about your caring side. The loving, mothering, always everyone's shoulder to cry on-side.

Hell, if she was being honest, it was one of the reasons she started falling so hard for you so easily.

In that moment, though? God, how she wished she would have chosen a narcissist.

(Not literally, though. She'd profiled guys like that before. They really weren't wife- or husband material.)

You had just been on your way out of the house when you had seen your wife's dark lunch box still residing on the counter top where you had prepared it for her an hour ago.

After a quick look at the time on your phone screen, you had short-handedly decided to slightly delay your trip to the pharmacy for some mundane refills, and drop by Emily's office to bring her her lunch.

After all, you knew how busy she could get, and how her focused state had the power to drown out every other basic need her body had.

If you wouldn't make lunch for her, she wouldn't have the time, or the head, to think of buying something for herself, you knew that.

One would think that was clear after almost an entire year of marriage.

The thought alone brought a smile to your face.

You grabbed your car key off the counter and hurried your way out the door, closed it behind you, halted for a moment - and slowly backed up inside again.

You eyed the black case next to the key bowl suspiciously.

"That wasn't there yesterday," You muttered to yourself.

Cautiously, because when your wife worked in the FBI, anything was possible, you reached for the leather-bound case and drew it closer to you.

When you opened it, the tension immediately left your shoulders. You shook your head sighing at the sight of your wife's passport picture and the huge, dark blue letters FBI showing themselves to you.

"Oh, Emily, what am I gonna do with you?"

When you left the house then, it was final.

Hopefully.

"What's up with you, you seem stressed out?"

Emily did her best not to flinch in her already tense state when JJ came up next to her.

She managed her best, reassuring smile and pressed her sweating palms into the side of her jeans.

"Oh, it's nothing," She lied. "Just thought I lost something."

JJ raised an eyebrow. "Alright," She muttered. "If you say so."

Then, she crashed a light brown paper file into Emily's chest.

"This just came in from El Paso, three homicides so far. I'll inform the rest of the team and we'll meet in the briefing room in ten."

Emily couldn't do more than nod, and just managed to grab the file before it slipped to the floor when JJ left.

She wasn't usually like this. She was good at keeping her head in the game.

But right now, the fact that her credentials were missing wasn't exactly stressing her out, because she knew that you would bring them to her as soon as you realized that she had forgotten them at home.

Emily was stressed out because she knew you would bring them to her.

What she didn't know, was, however she should act and how the team would possibly take it.

The elevator you entered took a tremendous amount of time to realize which floor you wanted to go to, and even longer to slide the doors closed and jerking to a start.

You would think that in an official federal office building, the mechanics could be more advanced.

Then again, counting the many times Emily complained about the budget allocation of the bureau when she tought you weren't listening, maybe you shouldn't be all that surprised.

The doors slid closed when the thought suddenly hit you.

You were about to enter your wife's office. Which you had never been to, not once in your life and only knew the address of because goddamn, was it hard to miss.

The building that was probably the only thing that Emily had wanted to keep you out of for as long as she could.

And you came here for a lunch box.

Emily knew you knew. You had talked to her about it, she had answered your questions on why she always got fussy when you asked her how you could finally meet her team, and you had understood, every time, but this?

She couldn't just ask you to actively lie about your relationship in front of most of - all of - her friends, could she?

The last time she had checked your location, it had already shown you in close vacinity to the BAU building. She could figure what was ahead.

Was she about to deny a relationship?

“Can I help you?”

This office had way too many doors, in your opinion, and way too few signs telling you where to find what.

The greeting voice made you look up, and you automatically shifted into your politeness to strangers-mode, upon seeing a woman come up to you, wearing a two-piece and her hair in loose curls.

A very pretty woman, you had to admit.

"My name's Tara Lewis," She introduced herself, "Who are you looking for, sweetheart?"

You quickly waved her off. “Oh, I don’t work here.”

Tara tipped her head, eyes not so subtly shifting up and down your appearance.

“I figured as much, I would have remembered a face like yours.”

You managed an awkward laugh.

Emily had once, in good fun, told you you were easily caught off guard by people showing genuine interest in you all of a sudden.

You hated when she was right.

Speak of the devil, and he shall appear.

Just over Tara Lewis' shoulder, you were suddenly able to spot the dark hair that indicated Emily Prentiss approaching from behind her.

You nodded in her direction in recognition, as she came to a halt next to Tara Lewis.

"I'm a friend of Emily's," You lied, and by God, you did it so neatly, Emily was questioning if she had maybe already dragged you down without realizing.

"She texted me that she forgot her lunch and her badge, and since we're close to each other, she asked me to get it for her."

That polite smile was still present on your face, and your voice pitched slightly higher than usual.

You threw Emily small looks in-between, unspotted by the usual eye, but she noticed them.

You were telling her to go along, to play the game, string it all a bit further until it turned into a web that could either wrap around and suffocate her, or catch her when she stumbled.

And she probably should.

Because you made it easy. You had made it so easy for her, laid it out like a red carpet for her to walk on, the lie, that could keep her sanctuary safe-

"I'm married."

In the midst of talking to Tara, your words died in your throat and your mouth stopped, hanging open.

Tara herself whipped her head around so fast, it was a question if she was breaking her neck, eyes ripped wide open in complete and utter schock.

It was quiet. In-between the three of you, a needle dropping would have echoed like the loudest drum.

"Say what now?" Tara didn’t take her eyes off Emily for a moment.

Slowly, movement seemed to re-enter your muscles and your eyes widened at the absolute extent of what had just happened.

"What are you doing?" You hushed at Emily.

Your wife's gaze - who you loved dearly, but in situations like these, could just hold by the shoulders and shake, shake, shake - tumbled between you and her co-worker, and you could almost decipher the exact moment she graciously invited the 'fuck it'-attitude.

Emily's shoulders dropped.

"I'm married," She repeated. Calm, collected, and slow.

All of the things you were totally not feeling right now.

"This is Y/N." Emily stepped next to you and held you gently by your wrist. "My wife."

And if the English Dictionary had demonstrating pictures next to each word, Tara Lewis' face right now would be pinned under 'bafflement'.

It took a moment, actually it took a few, for the Doctor to collect herself again.

She straightened her shoulders, cleared her throat, and shook herself out, as if to remove any unnecessary consideration that kept her from thinking clearly.

"Who knows about this?" It was her first question.

Where your shoulders were ever so slightly touching, you could feel Emily's body stay tense.

"Not really anyone," She admitted.

"Why didn't you tell us?"

Emily shook her head. "Y/N is my personal life," She cleared. "I spend almost every awake minute with you people. I wanted something to myself."

As subtly as you could, you leaned your body the slightest bit closer to her. It wasn't visible to the lazy eye, but Emily could feel it.

She squeezed your wrist.

You were comfort to her.

Tara's eyes flew between the two of you, contemplating, observing.

Then, from one moment to another, her lips broke into a blinding grin.

"A wife," She repeated. Emily ripped her eyes open to interpret her friend that she should keep her voice down.

"Good for you," Tara smiled.

Emily visibly relaxed. A breath she had been holding escaped her lungs soundly.

"Let's just be clear," She told Tara, "This is still my thing." She gestured to you. "My marriage is still my thing. I don't need the entire team on me like vultures, profiling my love life like they do everything else."

Tara nodded earnestly. Her small curls were bumping up and down. She pulled her fingers across her lips and pretented to turn a key in the corner of her mouth.

"My lips are sealed." She threw the imaginary key far, far behind the office desks. "Lovergirl."

Emily ignored her and turned to you.

Your fingers lingered around hers in the movement.

"Thank you," She breathed out quietly. A soft smile played around your lips as you looked into her eyes, recognizing that specific gentleness that you knew she only gifted you with.

"Anytime."

You placed her lunch box in her hands. "It's rice with some peas and corn." Emily smiled. "You're the best."

"And, before I forget-" You pulled out the badge from your bag, but instead of giving it to Emily directly, you opened her suit jacket and found the inner pocket, safely storing the credentials where you knew she kept them every day.

You smoothed out the jacket when you were done.

"There you go."

Emily didn't even know what to say. That warm feeling, that she felt in her entire body every time she looked at you, realized who you were and who you were to her, it made itself known in this moment right now.

Right here, in the middle of her workspace.

And with all the horrors she'd see, it was probably the most content she had felt in this place in a while.

"You are so amazing." The words didn't come close to what she was feeling.

But the way your eyebrows loosened, and your lips slightly parted, she knew you understood.

"This is so sweet, and I hate to be that person, but Prentiss, we have a case to get to."

Emily cleared her throat, being ripped from whatever that moment had been, and reminded on what ground she was standing right now.

"Right," She said. She opened her arms and leaned in to pull you into a hug.

A hug, not a kiss on the cheek.

She wasn't that far yet.

"It's okay." The feeling of your breathed words tickled near her ear. "I understand."

Emily squeezed you a bit tighter.

"Get home safe."

You slowly broke away from the embrace.

"I will," You promised.

Tara mouthed a quick 'I'm so sorry' in your direction. You laughed and waved her a goodbye, before you headed for the elavator again, and she got on her way to follow after Emily, who had already made her way to where JJ had ordered them a few minutes ago.

Tara endured until the top step.

"Oh.my.God. I can't believe it!" She almost squealed as they made their way next to each other to the briefing room.

"Look at us, sharing secrets now. Ah." She shook out her shoulders. "I feel like this is a pyjama party in junior year all over again. Amazing."

Emily couldn't do anything else than grin at Tara's antics.

Suddenly, her pocket vibrated with a short tune, and Emily pulled out her phone to check her display.

It was a message from you. Emily smiled softly as she read it.

Have a good day, my sun. Will hopefully see you tonight<3

"A message from boo?" Tara mocked, and tried to peak over Emily's shoulder.

Emily quickly shut off the display, stuffed her phone back into her backpocket and continued walking.

"I don't know what you're talking about!"

But the lovesick smile didn't leave Emily's face for the rest of the way to the briefing room, partly because she was so caught up in her thoughts about the specific feeling of your skin, that she didn't even notice she was wearing it.

#emily prentiss #requested #answered #yourmomxx #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss imagine #emily prentiss x you #emily prentiss x fem!reader #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #female reader #emily prentiss fluff

861 notes · View notes