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rynbutt · 3 days

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safe. | spencer reid.

You were pregnant but JJ had just left the team and they needed you. You hadn't told anyone; you hadn't even told Spencer.

my masterlist!

cw: fem!reader, pregnant!reader, guns, violence, mentions of murder, mentions of drugs (antidepressants and opioids), mentions of car accident, gunshot wounds, death of pregnant woman, general criminal minds themes.

wc: 6.2k

a/n: bruh this was a looooong one! dw some banging smut coming in the next one with post-prison reid >:3

now playing... Fare Well by Hozier

This was really starting to piss you off.

You fell to your knees as bile pushed up your throat, your skin paling as you vomited for the third time today. You tried to keep something, anything, down but you would just wind up curled in on yourself and sweating in the corner of the bathroom stall. You ate a couple of crackers and sipped on water to keep your empty stomach satiated– But you always ended up right back here on the bathroom floor with your head between your knees trying to will the pain away.

Emily noticed your pale complexion and how exhausted you looked, offering to get you some medicine or ask Hotch about sitting out of the next few cases. You told her you were fine, that it was just stress. That answer seemed to satisfy her enough, though she wasn’t fully convinced. To be fair, your workload had increased tenfold since JJ was forced to accept the job at the Pentagon, and you missed her terribly but you were proud of her. But you really could have used her advice right about now.

Because you swore this baby had it out for you.

You found out you were pregnant just over a week ago and you still hadn’t told Spencer. You were still wrapping your head around the whole thing because initially, you didn’t think you were pregnant, you just thought your body was dealing with the stress and workload in, frankly, a bizarre way. Hotch had wanted you to take over doing JJ’s job as communication liaison, which were rather important shoes to fill. He had total faith in your ability to do JJ’s job as well as do your own as a profiler, but you weren’t so sure anymore.

You would tell Spencer when you were ready and right now was not a good time. Everyone was surviving on four hours of sleep a night, far too many cups of coffee and sheer willpower. The absolute last thing they needed was to lose another team member. So you soldiered on like a champion– a champion who still held her head over the bureau’s less than impressive toilet while she threw her guts up.

“Y/N?” You didn’t even hear the bathroom door open, the ringing rattling around your skull distracting you from your surroundings. Penelope’s heels clicked against the tiles as she cautiously peered around the wall of the last stall where you kneeled on the ground. “Oh my god, sweet thing! What’s wrong?”

“I’m fine, Pen,” your voice was hoarse when you finally replied. You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand and tried to smooth your hair down, attempting to look at least semi-presentable before you left the bathroom to pretend everything was okay.

“No, no, my girl, you are not fine!” Penelope stood in behind you, pulling your hair out of your face as you vomited the last remnant of your soul into the toilet. “You need to talk to Hotch, you’ve got a bug or something, my dear. You shouldn’t even be at work when you’re this sick, let me talk to him for you and you just go home–”

“I’m not sick, Penelope!” You didn’t mean to shout at her, you really didn’t, you just felt awful and felt like a shell of yourself with how poorly you’d been sleeping and eating paired with all the stress of doing JJ’s job as well as your own. It was just a lot.

Penelope went quiet but stayed close to you, still holding your hair as you sat back on your heels, running your hands down your face. She let out a soft sigh, knowing you didn’t mean to shout at her. Penelope was stressed too– everyone was.

“I’m sorry, Pen,” you mumbled, your throat hurting from all the vomiting and coughing you’d managed to do today– it had to be a record honestly.

Penelope just shook her head at you, reaching her hand out toward you, “you don’t have to apologise, sweet girl, I know you’ve got a lot on your plate.” You shook your head, you still felt bad and shouting at sweet Penelope was not the way to deal with all the emotions swirling around in your head.

“It’s not fair,” you replied as she helped you to your feet, gently guiding you over to the basin to help you clean yourself up. “You’re stressed too, I didn’t mean to yell.”

Penelope brushed some of your hair out of your face, her gaze narrowing as she watched you, waiting for you to tell her what was going on. It never came and she knew she would have to push you a little. Penelope thought it was necessary though because seeing you like this was awful and she couldn’t even imagine how Spencer would react if he knew how sick you were.

“What’s going on?” Penelope’s voice was soft; gentle, just trying to get you to talk so she could help. You were stubborn when it came to asking for help and by the time you did, you had hurt yourself more than necessary trying to solve it yourself. Not this time though– Penelope refused.

“I’m okay–” you looked at Penelope and she raised her brows at you, not accepting that answer in the slightest. You sighed, knowing this is a fight you wouldn’t win. “I’m pregnant.”

Penelope’s jaw nearly hit the floor. She knew something was up with you but pregnant? That was not on this year's bingo card. “What?? Y/N that’s–” she gauged your expression and she really couldn’t tell if you were upset or happy about being pregnant. She cut herself off before she finished her sentence, pulling her lips into a line. “Are we happy about this news or are we…?”

“We’re…” you were happy. Honestly, you were. You and Spencer had talked about having kids one day, ideally after you were married but that didn’t seem to be going to plan. You’d been with Spencer for three years, in the BAU for four, it’s not like your relationship was new or in the honeymoon phase, it just wasn’t the original plan and that scared the hell out of you. But you were happy to be carrying his child– the timing was just piss poor. “We’re happy… just scared.”

“Oh, baby,” Penelope cooed. “Of course you’re scared, it’s a huge adjustment. But I know you and I know Spencer, you guys will nail this parenting business.” Penelope managed to prove time and time again why she was your best friend. You often wondered if she knew you better than you knew yourself, which wouldn’t really surprise you given her job.

“I hope so.” You smiled softly, feeling somewhat human again after splashing water on your face and washing your hands. You knew Spencer would be a good dad, he was so good with kids and he was so gentle and patient with you. He was meant to be a dad. You just weren’t sure if you were meant to be a mother. You wanted to be a family with Spencer, it made you feel warm just thinking about it, but you were a person who worried about almost everything, even the things out of your control. What scared you was how in control you were.

“I’m surprised Spencer hasn’t told everyone, that boy is obsessed with you and you’re making him a dad? God, it must be killing him sitting on this–” Penelope suddenly looked at you wide-eyed, connecting the dots all on her own. You winced as you watched her figure it out, gritting your teeth as she let out a soft gasp. “You haven’t told him?!”

You covered your face with your hands, letting out a muffled squeal of frustration into your palms. You would tell him eventually, just not right now, he was far too busy and was already stressing about his own workload, you couldn’t imagine how much more stressed he would be if he found out you were still in the field while pregnant.

“Pen, please,” you turned to her, “please keep this to yourself. I– We can’t deal with this right now. JJ’s gone and everyone is worked to the bone, I can’t do this to everyone right now, especially Spencer.” Penelope looked at you sympathetically, you knew you were asking a lot of her to keep it to herself, especially when Penelope wasn’t great at keeping secrets.

“Y/N, sweetie, you’re going to have to tell them eventually– You’re an FBI Agent. Being in the field is so dangerous and you don’t just have yourself to think about anymore.” You knew Penelope was right. You carried a gun around for Christ’s sake, you literally hunted down serial killers, active shooters, total psychopaths and everything in between. The field was no place for a pregnant woman.

“I know, I know,” you sighed, resting both of your hands on the basin in front of you.

“...How far along are you?”

“Twelve weeks,” you said softly, resting your hand against your belly. You didn’t have much of a bump yet but you were sure it would sneak up on you before you even realised. Lucky for you, you wore a lot of baggy sweaters around the office so you had some wriggle room when it came to hiding it.

“...My money’s on a girl,” Penelope was trying to make you feel better. She really was helping because the idea of Spencer hosting tea parties, getting covered in kitten stickers and his hair being covered in tiny butterfly clips made your heart swell.

You let out a soft laugh, “I think so too.”

“Alright, my love, I think we should leave this bathroom before they send out a search party,” Penelope laughed, linking her arm with yours to guide you out of the bathroom.

You honestly did feel better after talking to Penelope and throwing the rest of your guts up. She made sure to remind you about ten times to call her if you needed anything, you promised you would because it did make you feel better knowing that someone knew about your pregnancy and you didn’t have to bear the weight of the news alone.

You sat down at your desk with a sigh, sipping on your water bottle to soothe your raw throat. You popped a piece of gum in your mouth, willing the taste of bile away. You let out a huff of air as you stared down at all the paperwork you had to do. Doing JJ’s job proved to be intense, especially when you were doing your own work on top of her’s. You picked up your pen when you felt Spencer press a kiss to the crown of your head as he placed a mug of hot coffee on your desk in front of you.

You smiled, craning your neck to look up at him. Spencer took the opportunity to kiss you softly, one of his hands resting on the side of your desk while the other rested on the back of your chair. You smiled against his lips, “shouldn’t you be working?” You teased.

“Are you trying to get me to go away?” Spencer looked at you curiously. You rolled your eyes playfully because of course you didn’t want him to go away. If anything, you wanted him to pick you up and take you home right this second.

“Yes, Spencer,” you replied sarcastically, “I’m trying to get you to go away.” Spencer wasn’t great with sarcasm but he had come to understand your humour over the years. He just grinned and pressed another kiss to your lips.

“Sarcasm is rooted in truth, angel,” Spencer retorted with a gentle smile.

“I am joking, but we both have a lot of work to do, Spence. I don’t know how I’m going to manage doing JJ’s job as well as my own,” you sighed, leaning back in your chair.

“There’s a reason Hotch wanted you to do it. I don’t think he could have picked anyone more capable,” Spencer replied. Maybe it was the hormones and the fact you were carrying a baby, but the comment made you want to cry. Spencer frowned as he watched your face fall, “what’s wrong, angel?”

“No, nothing,” You replied, sniffling quietly. You gave him a genuine smile, “I’m fine, Spence. I promise–”

“New case just came in,” Morgan called to the two of you, gesturing toward the meeting room at the back of the office with a manila folder in his hand.

You looked at Morgan with a confused expression because now it was your job to decide what cases the team took after JJ’s departure. Morgan told you the case went straight to Hotch this time; an old friend had called in a favour.

Spencer pulled a chair out for you, taking the seat right beside you in the meeting room. You opened the case file the moment Penelope dropped it in front of you.

“The victims are 20-year-old Evan Miller and 21-year-old Daniel Clark, both engineering students at Caltech. They were shot three days apart outside their family homes in the local area of Pasadena, California.” You followed along with Penelope as she gave a run down of the victims and the circumstances of their deaths.

The killings were straightforward, the UnSub didn’t try to dispose of the bodies and the men were simply shot in the head execution style. It didn’t seem like the doings of a serial killer who would usually seek some kind of sexual release from torturing and killing their victims. If anything, it seemed like revenge killings.

“They were just shot?” Emily questioned, eyebrows furrowed as she stared at the crime scene photos.

“Once in the head,” Hotch replied, “there were no witnesses around which suggests the UnSub knew the routine of the victims and the neighbourhood.”

“Could be a stalker?” Penelope suggested.

“Stalker victims are usually the object of a stalker’s affection, they rarely act in violence let alone such a blunt killing,” You replied, confused by the nature of such a straightforward murder.

Spencer flicked through the victim’s files, “the single shot to the head suggests the UnSub just wanted them dead. No physical evidence of sexual release or torture… This could be some kind of revenge killing.”

“Did these victims know each other?” You asked.

“According to their parents, they came from the same friend group,” Penelope replied.

“Wheels up in thirty. Garcia, you're coming with us. Get your go bag,” Hotch said, quickly standing up from his chair. Penelope made a small noise of surprise before quickly ushering out of the meeting room. Hotch didn’t usually have Penelope come along but given you were short a very valuable member of your team, Penelope had started coming along more often. Not that you would ever complain having Penelope around.

You pinned up the last of the crime scene photos on the board, standing back with your hands on your hips. Spencer was writing on the whiteboard next to you, jotting down all the things you knew about the victims and possible motives of the UnSub. Hotch and Morgan were engaging in formalities with the local detectives on the case while Penelope got herself settled in the makeshift office they had set up for the team.

“The parents of the victims are here,” Emily poked her head into the office. “Y/N, Hotch wants you to talk to Ben and Sarah Miller, I’ve got the Clarks.”

“Alright, I got it,” you replied, letting out a dejected sigh.

“You okay?” Spencer gently tucked some of your hair behind your ear, turning his full attention to you. You let out another sigh, nodding your head tiredly. “You can do this,” he said quietly, his eyes shifting between yours.

“Yeah, I know,” you smiled softly. Spencer planted a soft kiss on your cheek before leaving the office, leaving Spencer and Penelope alone.

“...I think she needs a break,” Penelope said after a beat.

Spencer looked at her, eyebrows furrowed, “what makes you say that?”

Penelope tried to be as inconspicuous as possible, “she’s doing JJ’s job and her own. I mean, I think she’s the right girl for the job but… you know what she’s like.”

Spencer sighed, he knew exactly what you were like. You always held yourself and your work to such a high standard and you often overworked yourself to make everyone happy. “Yeah, I know. I’ll talk to her when we get back to the hotel.”

“I think that’s a great idea, lover boy,” Penelope grinned.

You opened the office door, files in hand. Mr and Mrs Miller immediately stood up as you entered and you gave them a sympathetic smile. Mrs Miller had clearly been crying, still clutching a tissue in her hand while her husband paced around the office.

“Please, have a seat, Mr Miller,” you said gently.

“I’ll stand,” he replied firmly. You decided not to argue and sat down on the chair opposite the couch where Mrs Miller sat.

“Mrs Miller, I’m Agent L/N, I’m with the Behavioural Analysis Unit in the FBI–”

“FBI?” She questioned. “Was Evan in trouble?”

“We suspect he and his friend Daniel were killed by the same person,” you explained. Mrs Miller let out a soft gasp, her hand coming to rest over her mouth.

“Is it alright if I ask you a few questions about Evan?” You asked. Sarah didn’t say anything but she nodded her head, fresh tears forming in her eyes. “Daniel and Evan knew each other, right?”

“They went to high school together,” Sarah replied, her voice shaking. “They were so excited when they both got into Caltech,” she smiled sadly, fresh tears streaming down her face.

“Do you have any idea who killed our son?” Ben asked, his voice sounding angry.

“That’s what we’re here for,” you said, “we’re here to find who killed your son and why–”

“‘Why”?” Ben repeated, “he was just a kid.”

You sighed softly, “I understand that, sir. We’re just trying to figure out a possible connection.”

“Evan and Daniel were good kids. They would never hurt a fly,” Sarah frowned, sniffling softly as she began crying again.

“Did Daniel and Evan hang around the same social groups?” You asked, turning your attention to Mr Miller, who was still pacing around the office with his arms crossed. “Maybe in some kind of extracurricular activities?”

“They were both on the college basketball team,” Ben said after a beat. “Why? You think this asshole is going to kill more of these kids?”

“I am just trying to get an idea of the social groups Evan and Daniel were a part of,” you didn’t want to get into the gory details of why you were asking such questions and decided they were both far too emotional for you to keep asking them questions; you would let Hotch handle it. “I need to speak with my team but I’ll be right outside if you need anything.” You rested a hand on Mrs Miller’s shoulder and you couldn’t shake how much you missed JJ doing this part.

You let out a sigh as you left the office, rubbing the tension in the back of your neck. You slowly walked over to Hotch, “Evan was on the Caltech Basketball team, he and Daniel went to high school together and Evan’s parents were adamant he was a good kid. I think he was a good kid, just got involved with the wrong people.”

Hotch let out a breath, “I want you and Prentiss to go to the school, talk to the faculty, basketball team coach, anything you can get.”

You nodded, gesturing to Emily on the other side of the bullpen. She firmly nodded at you and the two of you left for the school.

The team worked the case for two days before another body showed up. Everyone was starting early and finishing late to find the person who was doing this and you worked closely with the detectives and other officers on the case. Hotch gave the profile as soon as the team was certain but given the demographic of the suburban areas he was targeting these boys, it was rather unremarkable. The third body belonged to 21-year-old Oliver Marsh, another Caltech student studying Physics. He was shot once in the head while walking his dog no further than a block from his house.

You stood in the middle of Oliver’s bedroom staring at the posters and certificates that littered his walls. Spencer rifled through papers on his desk, mostly finding papers related to physics journals and essays for school. Emily and David were downstairs talking to the parents while Hotch and Morgan went to see the crime scene.

You walked over to his bedside table pulling it open. There were a lot of birthday cards and a game boy but what caught your attention was the little clear yellow bottles with white caps. You lifted the first bottle out, reading the label–

“Oliver was taking Oxycodone,” you said softly, catching Spencer’s attention. “...And Escitalopram,” you spun on your heel, showing Spencer the two bottles. Spencer took the bottles from your hands, eyebrows furrowed as he carefully read the labels. “Chronic pain?” you suggested.

“Could be,” Spencer replied. “He could have been taking non-steroidal anti-inflammatories too, they’re typically over the counter.”

You rifled through the drawer again, pulling out a blue box, “Yeah, he was taking Ibuprofen too.”

“We should talk to the parents,” Spencer said. You nodded and the two of you ushered down the stairs to where his parents sat in the living room with David and Emily. “Was Oliver suffering from chronic pain?” Spencer quickly questioned before he even fully made it into the living room.

Oliver’s mother held a tissue to her nose, glancing at Emily with a confused expression. You put your hand on Spencer’s bicep, “Has Oliver injured himself recently? Maybe a fall or injury while playing sports?”

Oliver’s father shook his head, “No, not recently. He’s been on those antidepressants for a few years and takes the codeine when he has– had flare-ups.”

“Flare-ups?” David asked pointedly.

“He was in a car accident four years ago,” Mrs Marsh said, “He was in the passenger seat and was in a coma for two weeks… he hadn’t really been the same after that, got really sad and antisocial… he was in a lot of pain too.”

“He had to stop playing Football and running track, his body just couldn’t keep up,” Mr Marsh added, his eyes glazing over. “He lost a lot of friends, I don’t think I ever saw him hang out with anyone, Physics became everything to him.”

“Do you have evidence of his medical records anywhere?” Spencer asked. “Just so I can look them over.”

“Uh, yeah, of course,” Mrs Marsh stood up, Spencer following her to their home office on the other side of the house.

You sat down across from Mr Marsh, “The accident he was in,” you started, “what happened?”

He looked at you with a pain in his eyes, “He was in the car with some of his friends and they were driving home from a party and it was late. I think they were all…” he hesitated for a moment, “they were all drunk.”

“Who was in the car?” Emily asked, not liking where this was going.

“...Evan Miller and Daniel Clark,” his father began to cry, holding his hand over his mouth. You felt your eyes widen, this was a revenge killing.

“Who was driving, Mr Marsh?” David asked quickly.

“Um, god–” He sniffled softly, “Peter… Peter something, he was older than them, I really don’t remember.”

“Thank you, Mr Marsh,” You stood up, quickly moving to the front door to call Penelope. You pulled out your phone, dialling her number. She picked up after the first ring.

“How may I be of service, oh queen of my country?” she sang, her fingers typing furiously against her keyboard.

“I need you to look into an accident for me, four years ago,” you said with your hand on your hip. “Oliver Marsh, Daniel Clark and Evan Miller were all in the accident too. See if you can find newspaper articles, news segments, anything– I think we know who the last target is.”

“Right, give me a moment,” Penelope replied. You heard her typing before she stopped, “Oh no…” she mumbled softly.

“What’s wrong, Pen?” You furrowed your brows.

“Peter Harvey,” Penelope sighed, “he’s the last boy… He was driving with three other high school boys; Oliver, Daniel and Evan when they struck an oncoming car and killed a pregnant woman on impact; her husband walked away without a scratch.”

“Shit.” You cursed, “What’s his name?”

“Jonathan Hughes, his wife was Katherine… she was 8 months pregnant, Y/N.” Penelope sounded so pained and you knew she was thinking of you and the small baby you were carrying. “Y/N…”

“I know, Pen… After this case wraps up… I’ll tell everyone,” you replied with a gentle sigh.

“And you’ll take time off?” Penelope sounded like she was lecturing you.

You smiled to yourself, “Yeah, Penelope. I’ll take some time off.”

“Okay… I’ll send Hotch and Morgan Jonathan’s last known address, I’m sending you Peter Harvey’s address–”

Your phone beeped as Penelope sent the address through. “Where would I be without you, Pen?”

“Nowhere good, my love,” you could hear the smile in her voice. You quickly hung up before walking back into the Marsh’s house.

Emily and David turned to look at you, “We’ve got him.”

“Alright, you guys go, I’ll grab Reid and we’ll be right behind you,” David waved you off and Emily quickly ushered the two of you to the car.

Emily was speeding toward the address Penelope had given you while you called Hotch and Morgan, filling them in on all the information Penelope had given you. They agreed to go to Jonathan’s address to hopefully intersect him before he left for Peter Harvey. You were always nervous when it came to these parts of the case because you couldn’t control the outcome no matter how hard you tried. A grieving man was going around killing these young men and while it was awful what he was doing; you could sympathise with him and the pain he was feeling over losing his wife and unborn child.

You instinctively rested a hand over your belly, your thumb stroking the small curve. You couldn’t even imagine how much pain Spencer would be in if he lost you, let alone your child too. You would tell him and you would ask Hotch about taking some time off later in your pregnancy and sitting out of cases like this.

“Shit he’s already here,” Emily cursed when she noticed Jonathan’s SUV parked a couple of blocks from Peter’s address. “Call Hotch.”

You dialled Hotch’s number and he picked up almost instantly, “What is it, L/N?”

“He’s already here, his SUV is parked a couple blocks down from Peter’s address. He’s already out looking for him,” You quickly said.

“We’re on our way, units are already on route,” he hung up after that.

Emily pulled the car up on the gutter, the car skidding to a stop. You immediately pushed the door open, holding your gun by your thigh as you ran across the lawn to Peter Harvey’s house. You knocked on the door and a woman answered after a beat.

“Mrs Harvey?” You asked, panting softly.

“Yes?”

“Is your son Peter here?”

“No, he went to the store down the street an hour ago, he should be back soon… What is this about?” She asked, her hand gripping the door in concern.

“We believe someone dangerous may be looking for your son,” Emily said. Mrs Harvey rested her hand over her mouth, a soft gasp leaving her lips.

“Mom?” You spun around and Peter stood with a plastic bag of groceries in his hand in the middle of the lawn.

It all happened almost in slow motion. You saw a figure wearing dark clothes stalking across the lawn and without even thinking, you darted toward Peter as the UnSub pulled the gun out of his coat, aiming it straight at Peter’s head. You could hear Emily yelling at Mrs Harvey to go back inside before she pulled out her gun and aimed it at the UnSub; but it was too late.

You shoved Peter to the ground as he fired, feeling the shot burn through your shoulder as both you and Peter fell to the ground. You instinctively pressed a hand to your burning shoulder, warm blood oozing from the wound and through your fingers.

“Jonathan Hughes?” You said, your breathing heavy as you tried to fight through the pain. He held his gun right in front of your face.

“Move,” he grunted, his eyes glassy.

“I know what happened to your wife,” you breathed trying to stall him as more police cars with blaring sirens pulled into the street.

“They killed her,” tears streamed down his face and you honestly felt bad for him.

“It was an accident,” you replied softly.

“They were drunk,” he almost yelled, his hand shaking as his gun was still trained on you.

“I know,” you said, “It was a stupid mistake that haunted them, Jonathan. I know it doesn’t change what happened but these boys–”

“They’re monsters!” he shouted, hot tears streaming down his cheeks.

You saw David and Spencer get out of the car. Spencer’s heart was in his throat when he saw you kneeled on the ground, shielding Peter with your body while your hand and shirt were covered in your own blood. He didn’t even pick up his gun as he began stalking toward you.

“Y/N?” His voice was soft when he called you at first, then it turned to outright concern and anger, “Y/N? No, no!”

David grabbed Spencer’s arm, pulling him back as Spencer fought against him, trying to get to you. It was irrational and it was dangerous. David quickly picked up his walkie, “An agent has been shot, we need an ambulance.”

“Who was shot?!” Penelope’s voice rang out in the car as she spoke to Morgan and Hotch.

“I repeat, agent L/N is shot, we need an ambulance,” David spoke before putting his walkie away to hold Spencer back, pulling him to the ground.

“Morgan! Oh my god!” Penelope felt tears form in her eyes.

“It’s okay, babygirl, she’s going to be alright,” Morgan said, trying to reassure her as Hotch stepped on the accelerator.

“No, Morgan, you don’t understand–”

“We’re going to get an ambulance–”

“She’s pregnant!” Penelope blurted out, not knowing what else to say for them to understand the gravity of why Penelope was so upset and concerned.

Hotch hesitated for a moment, “She’s what?”

Penelope let out a shaky breath, “she’s twelve weeks pregnant, Hotch. She wasn’t going to tell anyone until after the case– and now she’s been shot.” Penelope began to cry, holding her hand over her mouth as tears slipped from her eyes.

Hotch hadn’t sped that fast since he found out Foyet was in his house. He cared about his team a lot and he had a soft spot for you even though he wouldn’t admit it. The tires skidded along the road as Hotch pulled on the handbrake, both him and Morgan training their guns on the UnSub as they approached.

Morgan’s heart hurt at the sight of you, your skin slightly paled as blood bloomed from your shoulder, drenching your arm and your hands. You looked so scared as the UnSub trained his gun on you, unmoving. Emily had her gun aimed at the UnSub, yelling for him to put it down.

“Jonathan Hughes!” Morgan’s voice caught your attention. “Put down the gun!”

“Don’t move!” Jonathan shouted, “I’ll shoot her!”

“No you won’t, man,” Morgan shook his head.

“How do you know that!? She’s in my way!” He shouted back.

“She’s pregnant,” Morgan sighed. Your eyes widened as you looked at Morgan, who looked back at you with a sad expression.

Spencer stopped fighting against David, his breathing evening out as the words fell on his ears. You were pregnant. You were carrying his baby and you got shot and now you had a gun held up in front of your face. Spencer didn’t even realise he was crying, his tears cold against his warm skin. All he could do was watch, there was nothing he could do.

Jonathan glanced at you as you held your hand over your belly. “W-What?”

Morgan reached a hand out as he got closer. “Just like your wife, Jonathan… You wouldn’t kill a pregnant woman like those boys did.”

Jonathan seemed to dissociate, staring at you with such a hurt expression as Morgan leapt forward, grabbing the gun from Jonathan’s hands and tossing it across the grass. He pushed Jonathan to the ground, pinning his hands behind his back. You let out a breath as you felt yourself grow tired. Emily caught you before you fell the rest of the way to the ground, holding you close to her body as she screamed for a medic.

“You’re okay, you’re okay,” Emily gently rocked you, “you’re going to be fine.”

“I’m sorry,” you muttered, tears running down your cheeks.

Your eyes were heavy as you attempted to pry them open.

You let out a shaky breath as you finally pulled your eyes open, the smell of disinfectant hit you first, followed by the sounds of beeping. You were in the hospital. You glanced down at your arm, an IV stuck in your arm while a pulse oximeter was clipped to your finger. Despite the fact the doctor had prescribed pain medication, you still felt like shit and your shoulder was killing you.

A soft noise caught your attention and you glanced at the chair next to your bed, Spencer sound asleep in a chair with a hospital blanket draped over him. You smiled softly as you saw the flowers, balloons and plushies littered around your room, most likely a courtesy of Penelope.

“She’s awake,” Morgan smiled, standing in the doorway.

You grinned at him, “Hi, Derek.”

Morgan slowly walked over to your bed. “Feeling okay, pretty girl?” Morgan gently grabbed your hand, giving it a soft squeeze.

“I’m okay,” you replied. You almost didn’t want to ask but you knew you had to, “...is the baby okay?”

“Your baby is fine,” Morgan replied with a soft smile. You let out a breath of relief as you placed a hand over your tummy protectively. “...You scared the life out of everyone though.”

“I know,” you sighed.

“Especially your lover boy,” Morgan said, “he hasn’t left your side.”

“Sounds like my Spencer,” you laughed softly.

“Y/N?” Spencer’s voice was laced with sleep as he opened his eyes. He quickly got up, ditching the blanket on the floor to tend to you.

“I’ll leave you to it,” Morgan quickly said before leaving the room.

Spencer’s warm hands cupped your face as he pressed a kiss to your forehead, “I thought I lost you, Y/N.” He let out a breath, pulling away to stare at your face and stroke your cheeks with his thumbs. You reached a hand up to grip his forearm.

“I’m sorry–”

“You don’t need to–”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” Tears formed in your eyes as you stared up at him, searching for any kind of anger or resentment. There wasn’t any, he could never be mad at you.

“I wouldn’t have let you come on the case,” he replied after a beat. “I wouldn’t have let you leave the house.”

“That’s why I didn’t tell you… I knew you would be protective– more protective,” you corrected with a soft smile.

“I’m aware,” Spencer pulled his lips into a tight smile. “You know the odds of… complications are higher in the first trimester, angel. You should have told me,” he frowned.

“I know, Spence,” you sighed. “I just wanted to make sure I was in the clear before I told you… I understand being shot isn’t necessarily helping with that but–”

“I understand,” he replied. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

You stared at him for a moment, “are you happy?”

“Happy?”

“That I’m pregnant? I know we’re not married and our jobs are crazy but–”

Spencer cut you off by pressing a kiss to your lips, he pulled away slightly, “I’ve never been more happy,” he whispered.

You beamed with happiness, a bright smile tugging on your lips. Spencer hesitantly pressed a hand to your belly, his thumb stroking your tiny bump.

“Penelope thinks it’s a girl,” you muttered.

“...What do you think?” He asked curiously.

“I think she might be right,” you giggled softly.

“You know you can’t actually tell yet,” Spencer said and you rolled your eyes playfully.

“You asked what I thought!” you retorted.

He laughed softly, “Yes, you’re right, you’re right.”

“Mmm, did that taste like poison to admit?”

“Are gunshot victims supposed to be this mouthy?”

a/n: phew! i hope you guys liked it <3 i know i disappeared for a hot minute but here she is!!!

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foxy-eva · 2 days

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Date? Date!

Summary: Reader asks Spencer if he wants a date (the food item). Miscommunication ensues.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x GN!Reader

Category: Fluff

Content Warnings: food mentions, miscommunication, awkwardness

Word count: 700

Masterlist

Early into your career at the FBI you learned how important it was to take good care of yourself. Long and irregular work hours made it difficult to nourish your body, so you made it a habit to always pack some healthy snacks.

Recently you discovered your love for dates - a fruit packed with fiber and potassium while satiating your sweet tooth.

You grabbed a small container from your bag while your eyes landed on your favorite coworker. Months ago you noticed that his main source of energy was coffee and refined sugar, so without thinking too much about it, you decided to offer him an alternative.

“Date?” You asked once Spencer found your eyes.

“Wh…what?” He muttered. “You’re asking me… just like that?”

His reaction was a little confusing but it wasn't the first time that the brilliant Dr. Spencer Reid left you a bit puzzled.

"Yeah, of course! I think it’ll be good for you!” You chirped to encourage him.

“You think?” His mouth stayed agape after those words made it past his lips.

You raised your eyebrows at him and withdrew your offer, “You obviously don’t have to. You can just say no.”

“No, no, it’s not that! I just.. I have never been… I mean… I have never really… had a date?” He muttered.

“Really? That's hard to believe.” You couldn't hide the surprised tone in your voice. Dates were pretty popular, you had never met anyone who hadn’t tried one.

“It’s true…,” he mumbled.

“Maybe it’s time for you to try it!”

"I... have thought about it. A lot actually." Spencer whispered while his eyes dropped to the floor. "With you specifically"

At this point you definitely couldn't hide your confusion anymore. You took one date out of the plastic container to look at it before you said, "You have thought about eating dates with me?"

When your eyes met his again you noticed the color draining from his face. The already pale doctor suddenly looked like he had seen a ghost.

“You uhm… you… of course… you were talking about dates,” he stammered.

“Yes? What were you tal–” You stopped mid sentence when you realized.

Oh.

Spencer must have thought you were asking him out.

Now his reaction made a lot more sense.

Before you could say anything, Spencer quickly got up to leave the room. You could only imagine how embarrassed he must have been right then. Your heart began aching at the thought of hurting the person you cared so deeply about.

The truth was that you were hoping for him to ask you out for months now. It was hard to tell if he actually liked you too, so you never had the courage to ask him yourself.

It seemed like the cat was out of the bag now and it was your chance to finally ask him out for real.

“Spencer!” You called out his name as you ran after him. “Wait, please!”

To your surprise he slowed down, coming to a halt right before he reached the elevators.

“I just want to go catch some air,” he explained with a fake smile on his face.

“Please don’t be embarrassed,” you said with a soft voice. “It was just a little misunderstanding.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. It’s fine, really!” He lied while pressing the button of the elevators.

“It’s true that I was just offering you a date, but…” you paused for a moment, noticing his eyes getting bigger.

You almost got lost in the warm amber that were his irises. It was hard to actually speak the words you so clearly wanted to say. But you knew it was now or never.

“... But I would really like to go out with you. On an actual date,” you confessed.

The features of Spencer's face suddenly softened and it seemed like relief washed over him.

“You do?” He wanted to make sure.

“Yeah, I really do,” you confirmed.

A wide smile appeared on his face. “I would really like that, too. Maybe we could go out for dinner someday.”

“Dinner sounds a lot better than just eating dates together,” you laughed.

Please like, reblog and leave a comment! I need your lovely words to stay motivated to write more stories.

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#spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #doctor spencer reid #dr spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fluff

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rreids · 1 day

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SHOW ME • S. REID X READER

gn reader with female anatomy; smut; guided masturbation; unprotected sex w/ no mention of contraceptives (do not do what they do); dirty talk; ~1.4k words

“Spencer?” You ask softly, fiddling with the sleeves of his sweater over you. Your hair drips water onto the shirt and the floor. “Can I sleep with you tonight?”

His brows raise. “That was the plan, wasn’t it?”

It was, it still was, but you’d thought of him while you were in the shower. Imagined that your hands were his, soaping your skin and sliding over your breasts and the curves of your ass hips. You didn’t want innocent cuddles, it wouldn’t be enough for you.

You swallow. “I mean in another way,”

Spencer sits up. “Sit,” he pats the mattress and you oblige, folding your legs under your and folding your hands politely on your thighs. He tilts your head up to face him, studying you so intently you want to look away. “What’s going on in that pretty head?”

“Thought about how good your hands would feel.” You whisper out the words in a rush. “Mine aren’t good enough anymore, I— I keep—” you sigh and look down. “I keep thinking about you when I get off because nothing else works anymore.”

He hums. “So you’re frustrated?” When you nod vigorously, he sighs, skimming his fingers over your collarbones. “Baby, you have to be sure you want this. I don’t want you to regret it tomorrow.”

You whine, frustrated with him now. “I’m sure, Spence, I’ve thought about you for weeks, but showering — using your body wash and smelling like you, I couldn’t help it… but it wasn’t enough because I knew you were right outside the door — and I—, I just want you.”

Your emphasis on the last word is what gets him.

Spencer leans back and your heart sinks before you see how blown out his eyes are. “Lean against the headboard.”

You scramble to move where he wants and stare at him, wide-eyed, as he creeps a hand under the sweatshirt and pushes it up to your stomach. You squirm. You’re wearing old and worn panties, but he doesn’t seem to mind — if he does, he doesn’t comment. “Spence?”

His heavy stare moves to your face. “Show me what you do when you think of me.”

“But I want you to touch me,” you whine, face burning as he spreads your legs further apart. “Please?” You soften your voice and smile at him sweetly.

“I will. Show me what you like first,”

“But…” your voice shakes with embarrassment and jitters, both excited and humiliated for him to see you like this. “What do I do?”

Spencer settles further, and you swallow at the sight of his hardening cock in his sweatpants. “Do whatever you want, sweetheart. If you show me what feels good, I can do it too.”

You sigh and nod, carefully guiding your hand towards your panties, scraping your nails over your stomach just hard enough to make you shudder. Spencer’s attention fills you with heat. Your fingers slip from teasing yourself over the fabric and into your underwear once his tongue darts out over his lips, tempting and so far away.

When you circle your clit, the muscles in your thighs twitch.

“You look so pretty,” he coos, and you whine in the back of your throat. “Do you just use your hands?”

“No, I— I use toys, sometimes,” your breath hitches and your hips stutter as you press with more force. “‘S not enough, Spence.”

“We’ll make it enough,” he moves to your side. “I want you to take your panties off.”

You hurriedly kick out of them, arching up into his touch as he slides your sweatshirt off too, lingering just a little too long on your breasts.

“I want you to do this,” he gropes your breast, flicking and twisting the nipple and kneading the soft flesh, “with your free hand while you get yourself ready for me.” You hum, hand moving up to cover where his had been.

It’s so much better, just from this. The scent of his cologne envelopes you in more heat, and your hips grind helplessly against your palm.

“Add a second finger,” he sounds far away, and you manage to open your eyes and look at him. His face is flushed at the peaks and, oh, he’s straining against his sweatpants enough that you see a wet spot. “Good, baby, you’re doing so well.” He whispers when you comply.

The sounds of your wetness fill the room, sloppy and needy, and it only furthers your desperation. Without his order, you add a third finger, back arching as the pressure builds in your stomach.

“Listen to yourself,” Spencer murmurs, voice filled with wonder. You’re gasping and heaving shaky breaths, cut with small moans. “So pretty.”

“Spencer—” you whine, voice breaking on the second half of his name. “Please.”

“Shh,” he soothes. “You’re doing so well. Let go for me,”

You see him palming himself over his sweats and that’s what does it for you, quivering as your orgasm crashes into you. You keep working yourself through it until you feel too sensitive.

“You looked so pretty,” he whispers, bending down to finally kiss you. It’s the hungriest his touch has ever been, barely restrained animalistic desire as he swallows your breaths and presses against you more urgently. It’s mind-numbing, the press of his lips to yours and the heat of him so close, how his breath fans over your cheek for just a moment before he dives back in for more.

“Spencer, Spencer,” you whisper between his kisses, whining at the rub of his shirt over your nipples as his chest flattens to yours.

“Hmm?” He doesn’t seem too interested in what you have to say, kissing the column of your throat and sucking a mark right below your ear. Your head lolls back as he soothes it with his tongue, and you paw restlessly at his shirt, wanting his flesh sticking to yours from the heat and sweat.

“Please… I need you,” Spencer smiles at that. “Do whatever you want, just… fuck, I need you.”

Spencer groans, lips crashing into yours again. He only pulls back to tug off his shirt, and you immediately run a hand over his chest and stomach, feeling the muscles tense under your touch.

He undresses hurriedly, rubs a soothing hand over the curve of your hips. “Can you spread your legs more for me?”

You do, whimpering at the sight of him so close to you. Every part of him is even more beautiful than you dreamed, and you want it so badly. Spencer groans softly as he presses into your warm heat, taps your thighs. “Now wrap them around me.”

When he’s fully flush to you, you realize he’s forced an angle into your g-spot, whimpering with each slow, powerful thrust into you.

“Spence, more, I can take it.”

“I know.” His brow furrows in concentration. “But I don’t know if I can, I’m—” he hisses when you clench around him. “Embarrassingly close. You feel so good.”

“Yeah?” You ask, breathless and high-pitched. “Bet you’ll be so pretty when you cum for me, Spence,”

He curses under his breath, picking up the pace. You’re fluttering around him, dangerously close to another orgasm. His brows are pinched, mouth dropped unconsciously, sweat rolling down his temple. You especially admire the veins in his arms, the way his muscles flex as he holds you down to the mattress.

“Spencer!” You cry and he moans in response, leaning down and locking his lips to yours. His hips stutter as you cum around him, and he fucks you through the aftershocks for both of you, whining high-pitched and quietly with each thrust as he twitches in you, spent.

“God, fuck,” Spencer gasps, trying to steady his breathing. “You’re so good.”

You whine and push him to pull out and get off of you before nuzzling against his chest. His fingers begin playing with your hair, almost mindlessly, soothing you as you come down. “Better than anything I imagined,” you mumble. “I’m going to jump you constantly, you know that?”

“As long as I don’t cum in like, two minutes, next time.” Spencer grumbles. “I feel like a teen again.”

“So I make you feel like a teenager in love?” You grin up at him, chin pressing into his chest. He pulls you up towards him and kisses you softly.

“You know you do.”

i dont like this one very much </3 sorry </3 as always not proofread

#my works #📚 sleepover #mdni #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fic #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid smut #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds x reader

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hereforhalstead · 1 day

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Spencer’s hands.

*literally wrote this in 2 mins whilst waiting for my dinner to cook in the microwave lmao*

*****

His hands would be everywhere, covering every inch of your body as if his life depended on it.

Grasping at the ends of your hair as he stands beside you, watching you chop up fruit for breakfast.

His hands would glide over your arms as he stands behind you, head resting on top of yours as he asks about your day.

Clutching at your hips as you perch yourself on his lap, fingernails almost digging into your skin to ensure you don’t loose your balance.

Absentmindedly grabbing at your hand as you walk side by side, thumb grazing over the back of your hand as he listens to you talk.

Casually resting on your thigh as he drives the pair of you to work, the odd squeeze of reassurance to settle your leg from bouncing in nervousness.

Cupping your chin as he lifts your face to meet his, searching in your eyes for the truth if you were okay or not.

Tracing your facial features as he lays staring at you in bed, causing you to scrunch your nose as he disturbs you from your sleep.

He adored your body, he adored feeling you, he adored you.

#prison spencer reid #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #dr spencer reid #spencer reid #mgg #criminal minds

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basketonthedoorstepofthefbi · 2 days

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Safer to Kiss (part 2) - Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader

read part 1 here!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader

Word Count: 3236

Summary: the day after drunkenly kissing your best friend and coworker, Spencer Reid, the BAU catches a case. Lots of talking with other members of the team, general group dynamic chaos, and ✨Pining✨

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol, normal Criminal Minds violence, maybe some mild cursing? Mostly just pining teehee

A/N: thank you so much to everyone who interacted with part 1! I am so pumped about this lil series, and part 3 is already started 🙈 I love love LOVE hearing from you guys, it makes me so happy and inspired to continue writing. 🥹 also not my gif, all credit to the owner bc LOOK AT HIS LIL FACE

————

Spencer’s hands were on your hips. Spencer’s hands were on your hips. Suddenly the three glasses of wine and 2 glasses of champagne were null and void, because you felt completely sobered by the time your mouth pulled away from his. The reality of the situation hit you like a bus - you, in a drunken stupor, had stupidly, idiotically, irreversibly kissed your best friend. Right on the lips. There was no excusing it as a friendly peck on the cheek.

Your entire face felt hot as you pulled away, and as Spencer’s hands retracted to his own space. You felt wobbly - okay, maybe you hadn’t sobered up - and when you were once again leaning against the railing of the stairs on your apartment building’s stoop, you blinked a few times.

Spencer blinked a few times, too, as if to process what had just happened. He’d tasted like red wine, which you saw he’d only had one single glass of tonight, and spearmint gum. The combination reminded you of spring.

Your best friend tasted like spring.

Your eyes widened, buggy, as if they might pop out of your head, and you opened your mouth to say something, but no words came out.

Spencer spoke instead, with an earnest expression on his face. “Y/N-“

“Thanks for getting me home in one piece, okay, goodnight!” You rambled off, the words sliding off your tongue like they were on a luge, all blurring together into one, long megaword. You slid in behind the door and stumbled up to your unit before you could say another word.

You couldn’t believe yourself, replaying the moment on your stoop over and over as you locked the door, leaning against it and running your hand over your face. Spencer’s expression had been completely dumbfounded when you pulled away from the kiss. There was no doubt in your mind that he had been about to politely reject you, in that way that only he could do. I’m sorry, Y/N, but I think we’re better off as friends, he would say, simultaneously humiliating you and ripping your heart in half.

That’s why you’d cut him off, before he could say anything, before he could address the situation, before either of you had to acknowledge that it had actually happened.

You slept poorly that night, your anxiety getting the best of you. It was that look on Spencer’s face, how you just knew he was going to tell you in the kindest, most sensitive tone that he didn’t like that you kissed him. And your Nan’s voice ringing in your head - You’ll find someone someday, Button. You’ll be just as happy as your sister someday, Button.

You tossed and turned, and woke up with a violent hangover. All the coffee in the world was not enough to cure the aftershock of the night before.

Your stomach was in knots, a lethal combination of hangover ickies and irreversible mistake anxiety, and as you took a cab to work, you leaned your head against the seat behind you.

You flashed your badge to security and boarded the elevator to ride up to the sixth floor. The doors opened to reveal Penelope Garcia, clutching a stack of folders to her chest, waiting for you.

“Good morning, pumpkin,” Penelope flashed a smile, then grabbed you by the wrist, practically yanking you along behind her as she headed towards the conference room. Your head was pounding and while you loved Penelope with all your heart, in that moment, you wanted to throttle her. “You look horrible. We’ll discuss that later, and don’t even think about trying to internalize it and brush me off. I might not be a super magic genius psychic profiler, but I can tell when one of my love-bugs has had a wild night and I want details. Unfortunately for you, darling, you have a case. Hotch asked me to pull you directly into the conference room. Everyone’s waiting.”

Usually, when Penelope rambled on like that, you were able to keep up. In this weakened state, however, the words hit you like someone throwing putty against a wall, and it took a minute to process. You found yourself standing in front of the closed door of the conference room, with slackened posture and narrowed eyes. “Okay,” you managed to murmur before Penelope dragged you behind her, into the conference room.

You could feel the team’s eyes on you as you slumped into the empty seat. You avoided eye contact with everyone, especially Spencer, projecting to the room that you were not to be asked about your disheveled appearance and obvious headache. You spared a glance at Spencer. He looked perfect, as per freakin’ usual, with a purple button-up dress shirt and a dark tie over it. He sat up straight in his desk chair, as if last night hadn’t affected him in the slightest. You hated that.

Hotchner cleared his throat. “Let’s begin. Garcia?”

Penelope’s eyes lingered on you, fluttering from you to Spencer, and you watched as she seemed to resist the urge to say anything. “Ooookay,” she spoke, drawing the word out as she stood before the table. She used the TV remote to present the case’s info on the monitor. “We’ve got a local case today, my fine furry friends. Three men killed in three weeks,” you took a drink of the water in front of you as Penelope presented three driver’s license photos on the TV screen. “All bodies have been identified. Twenty-three-year-old Harvey Gibson, twenty-nine-year-old Kyle Moore, and twenty-eight-year-old Malcolm Greene. All three were found in alleys in downtown D.C, cause of death multiple stab wounds to the chest, stomach, and genitals.”

You choked on your water when you saw the last photo. Malcolm Greene, as in, Malcolm Greene, the guy you spoke to last night at the art gallery? You remembered spotting him from across the room, and thinking about how Spencer had said he’d gone on a date (albeit, an unsuccessful one) over the weekend, and you wanted to prove to yourself that you could be interested in other men. And then you’d gone over to Malcolm, spoke to him for an embarrassing two minutes and twelve seconds, and walked back to Spencer with a red face. And now he was dead?

Concerns about your relationship with your best friend aside, your eyes met Spencer’s across the conference table and the two of you seemed, for a moment, to fall back into your old dynamic, having a somewhat telepathic conversation with just your expressions.

That’s the guy…? Spencer seemed to say, his brows furrowed slightly.

A subtle bob of your head was how you responded. Yep, that’s him.

Spencer’s mouth formed a straight line, a mannerism that everyone around the table seemed to notice.

“Reid, Y/L/N, what’s going on?” Derek piped up, inclining his head to the side curiously. “Something you’d like to share with the class?”

Spencer’s mouth opened as if he were about to spill the beans, but he paused, seemingly deciding not to rattle off whatever he was going to say. Instead, he gestured to you.

“Spencer and I went to an art gallery after work last night,” you sighed, feeling your cheeks turn pink. “I may have… flirted, briefly, with Malcolm Greene.”

Derek let out a low whistle, and you saw Emily and JJ share an amused look. Rossi was even cracking a smirk.

Only Hotch remained as stoic as ever. “How long did you speak with him?” He asked.

“Two minutes, twelve seconds,” you and Spencer said simultaneously, and your eyes snapped to his across the table. You swallowed the lump in your throat and somehow felt your whole face turn even redder.

“Some smooth-talker you are,” Derek snickered, and you shot him a glare. Penelope, standing behind him, smacked his shoulder. “Did you get his digits that fast?”

“I don’t really see how that’s pertinent to the case,” you protested, sitting up straight and crossing your arms over your chest.

“It’s just like any other witness interview, Y/N,” Hotch reminded you calmly, shooting the rest of the team a warning glance. “Even the most minute detail could help.” He seemed to realize that you were humiliated, and that the rest of the team’s eyes on you were not helping the situation. “We can talk about it later,” he compromised.

“So, multiple stab wounds to the chest, stomach, and genitals, huh?” Rossi offered as a rough transition back to the topic at hand. Across the table, you heard Emily stifle a laugh.

“Yes, sir. All bodies were posed in a classic casket fashion, arms folded across their chests, eyes closed,” Penelope reported.

“Sign of remorse,” JJ noted, jotting it down on her pad of paper.

“Any cash missing from their wallets, or jewelry missing off their body?” Hotchner asked.

“No, sir, all wallets were found in the clothes of the victims, presumably where they had been kept untouched,” Penelope answered.

“So, not a robbery gone wrong,” Rossi concluded.

“The disposal of the bodies feels inconsistent with the cause of death,” Spencer pointed out, twirling his pen around his finger. His cadence was quick and pensive. “Multiple stab wounds to those particular areas of the body indicate intense rage at the time of the murder, disposing them in alleyways seems to be a choice of opportunity and convenience, but posing the bodies is a sign of remorse, like the UnSub suddenly realizes what he’s done and regrets it.”

“Do the victims have any friends or family in common?” You asked, crossing your ankles beneath the table.

“As far as my preliminary scans can tell, all three men were completely unrelated,” Penelope said. “The only common denominator is how they died and how their bodies were disposed of.”

“Not entirely,” Emily pointed out, standing up and using her pen as a pointer, gesturing to the three ID photos on the screen.

“Don’t these guys all look… strikingly similar?” Emily proposed. All men were white, with aquiline noses, dark hair, and dark eyes. “In fact, don’t they all look exactly like someone we know?”

You took in a sharp breath, just as Penelope let out a small gasp and Derek let out a soft chuckle. “They’re all pretty boys, like Pretty Boy,” Derek laughed.

“So our UnSub has a type,” JJ added.

Derek smirked. “The UnSub and Y/N both have a type.”

Your face turned bright red, and your jaw tensed. You felt Spencer’s eyes on you for a fleeting moment, and before you could say anything, Hotchner stepped in. “Let’s get going on this. Reid, JJ, and Morgan, I want you at the crime scene. Prentiss, Rossi, and Y/L/N, come with me to the local police precinct and interview family and friends. Garcia, too.”

There was an array of agreements murmured, and everyone began to disperse. You wanted to shake Derek by the shoulders for his little comment, especially after all the teasing you took when you realized the man you briefly spoke to last night was now dead.

You were on your way back to your desk when you felt a light touch on your elbow. When you saw it was Spencer, you bit the inside of your cheek. “Can we talk for a second?” He asked, and you shook your head.

Pointing pathetically to your desk, you responded, rather articulately, with, “The case…”

“Yeah, I know. The case. But, Y/N, we have to talk about last night,” Spencer said, looking down at you. Even though you were actually tall for a woman, Spencer still had at least four inches of height on you. Maybe five. “I mean, you just, like, escaped from me the first second that you could. Was it…?”

You furrowed your brows, confused as to what Spencer was trying to say. “Did you mean to kiss me?” He asked.

This was it. This was the out. He was giving it to you, whether he knew it or not. This was the opportunity to take it all back, to say it was a mistake. You could blame it on the wine, on your Nan’s phone call, on Malcolm - what was he gonna do, sell you out?

The chance to save your friendship with Spencer Reid was right there, and you stood there and you looked up at Spencer with your mouth open, words ready to spill out, when -

“Hey, Reid, you coming, man?”

Saved by the Morgan.

You saw Spencer’s jaw tighten, and he exhaled sharply. You were still frozen, unsure of what to say, of how to say it, so when Spencer simply frowned at you and then turned around to join Derek, you weren’t surprised.

You ran your hands over your face, still reeling, foggy from your hangover, thoroughly embarrassed from the entire situation.

“Y/N,” Rossi’s voice piped up, and you turned to see him with an arched brow. “C’mon, we gotta get going,” he gestured for you to follow him.

You sighed, your shoulders slumped, as you joined Rossi. You boarded the elevator with him, just the two of you, to head down to one of the Bureau’s black SUVs. “What’s going on with you?” Rossi asked, furrowing his brows.

In terms of group dynamics, David Rossi was like the team’s mother, in comparison to Hotchner, who was most certainly the patriarch of the BAU. You loved Rossi. He was kind, fairly level-headed, and he always stuck his neck out for the people he cared about. He also was pretty funny, and could make a killer lasagna. All those merits aside, you so did not want to talk about it.

“Not right now, Dave,” you shook your head, leaning against the wall of the elevator, running your palms down your thighs.

Rossi nodded understandingly, but you had an inkling he wasn’t about to just drop it. “I get it. Hungover, in a weird spot with Reid-“

“I’m not in a weird spot with Reid,” you corrected him, and Rossi smirked, knowing he had gotten you to crack. You shot him a (mostly) playful glare. “I had maybe a little too much to drink last night. And I maybe had, accidentally, perhaps…” you groaned, rolling your eyes at the idiocy of your actions the night before. “I kissed Spencer last night. It only lasted for, like, a minute, and right when it was over, I freaked out and went inside my apartment, and now things are just, like, weird between us. And I don’t know what to do.”

“Well, kiddo,” Rossi began, and you pursed your lips. He always hit you with a kiddo when he was about to tell you something you didn’t want to hear. “As a person who has been with many romantic partners-“

You feigned a gag.

Rossi just chuckled and continued. “I think you have to ask yourself - how do you want Spencer to react? Would you prefer to bury this and never speak of it again, or is this the catalyst you needed to finally tell him how you feel?”

You narrowed your eyes. “What do you mean, tell him how I feel?” You asked, playing dumb. Maybe Rossi was just grasping at straws.

“Oh, c’mon, kid, we’ve all seen how you look at each other. The only person who doesn’t know that you’re in love with Spencer is, well, Spencer.”

You felt your entire face flush. “You’re not serious,” you chuckled in disbelief.

Rossi looked at you and batted his eyelashes in a very feminine expression. The expression dropped and he said, “You make this lovestruck school girl expression at him at least once a day.”

“I do not!” You crossed your arms over your chest defensively, just as the elevator dinged, signaling your arrival to the Quantico lobby.

“Yeah, kid, you do. It’s pretty cute, actually. You’re like two lovesick puppies, chasing each other’s tails.”

“He does not think of me like that, Rossi,” you insisted indignantly, your voice taking a more hushed tone as the two of you walked at the same quick pace through the lobby, and outside towards the garage of Bureau vehicles.

The sun hit your face just as Rossi spoke again. “You’re such a good profiler, Y/N. How do you not see it?”

You decided not to dignify Rossi’s opinion with a response. Rather, you just shook your head and continued towards the garage to meet up with Prentiss and Garcia.

When you arrived at the police precinct, Garcia set up in the conference room, and you, Emily and Rossi each took turns interviewing the next of kin for the victims. You interviewed the mother of the first victim, Harvey Gibson.

An art student at Georgetown, steady boyfriend for three years he planned to propose to on Christmas, no criminal record, called his mother every other day. He was a good kid. Comforting his mother, walking her through all the questions the police had asked her three weeks ago — it was always a lot. But with your head already fuzzy and your mind on other Reid-related things, by the time you escorted Mrs. Gibson out of the police station and thanked her for her time, you felt heavy.

It didn’t help when the team reconvened about an hour later, sitting around a conference room at the local police station. You could tell Spencer’s eyes were floating to yours every so often, but you refused to meet them. You were working right now. You couldn’t let the revelation with Rossi distract you from your job.

Penelope took the lead, addressing the entire team. “So, our original thought of the three victims being unrelated actually has turned out to be incorrect,” she began. “Not only do all three of our victims look alike, but they all visited the same art gallery twenty-four hours prior to their murders.”

“Not the one we went to last night?” Spencer asked.

“No,” Penelope clarified. “From Emily’s discussion with Malcolm Greene’s brother, along with tracking the location of the other two victims’ cell phones prior to their deaths, we can determine that all three victims visited a different art gallery - The Restful Owl, just two blocks over from where you and Y/N went last night.”

“So, the victims all meet a certain physical description,” JJ recapped. “Brown hair, brown eyes, early-to-late twenties, and all visited The Restful Owl art gallery.”

“The gallery seems like a solid lead,” Hotch agreed. “All three victims were interested in art in some capacity - Harvey Gibson was studying art, Kyle Moore worked at an art museum, Malcolm Greene was a collector.”

“Perhaps the ruse the UnSub used was related to a particular piece or artist,” Spencer proposed, wrapping and unwrapping his fingers around his pen. “We should get the security tapes from each victim’s visit to the gallery, observe who they spoke to, how they reacted to specific pieces. Maybe the UnSub lured these men to the sites of their deaths by promising them a deal on a work, or something of the sort.”

“Good idea,” said Hotchner. “Prentiss, Morgan, follow up with the gallery. If there’s a specific person or piece all three victims stopped to interact with, I think our next step is pretty clear.”

“What’s that?” Penelope asked.

“We send in someone who just so happens to be exactly the UnSub’s type to the art gallery as bait,” Rossi concluded.

All eyes, including yours, moved across the table, landing on Spencer.

#spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x y/n #basketonthedoorstepofthefbi #criminal minds spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid self insert

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givemequeen · 7 hours

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swallow; spencer x reader

i saw this post and i knew i had to write something. i hope you enjoy it!

warnings: bj, dom!spencer

You were in the kitchen, barefoot, dancing and only wearing your boyfriend's shirt, when Spencer walked in. He slammed the door loud enough to be heard over your blaring music. You moved to turn it down and stuck your head around the corner, wondering what had happened.

"You okay, Spence?" you asked, slightly worried.

"Yes." he lied as he kicked off his shoes and dropped his bag on the floor.

"Okay, obviously you're not." you walked out onto the hallway and made your way towards him. "Do you want to talk about it?" you asked, placing your hands on his shoulders and reaching up to peck him.

It was supposed to be a short, sweet, innocent peck. Just a small hey there peck. But Spencer had other plans.

He grabbed the back of your neck and deepened the kiss. His other hand went to your lower back, pulling you flush against him. Your yelp morphed into a moan as he slipped his tongue into your mouth. You flung your arms around his neck, fingers playing with his hair.

Spencer tasted like coffee and like him, that sweet taste that lingered in your mouth long after any kiss with him. His hand slipped onto your ass, grabbing the soft flesh and pressing you ever closer to him.

"Oh!" you yelped as you felt his boner press against you. "What's this?" you murmured into the kiss, one hand slipped between the two of you. You palmed him through his trousers.

"I've been thinking about you all day." he groaned. "About your pretty mouth around my cock." he took your chin in between his thumb and forefinger and titled your head up towards him. His thumb brushed over your lower lip and pushed through, pressing against your tongue.

You wrap your lips around his finger and suck, looking up at him through your lashes. Your tongue dances around his thumb, your teeth grazing him just how he likes it.

"Fuck." he swears. "You're going to be the death of me." his voice is low, a rumble in this throat.

You fight the urge to smile, feeling it wouldn't fit The Mood, and instead, go back to feeling his cock through his trousers. Spencer bucks his hips towards your touch, eyes going dark as he watches you suck on his thumb.

He slips his thumb out of your mouth with a pop and, without needing to ask you, you go down on your knees. You reach up to undo his belt but he beats you to it, unbuckling it and slipping it off with one fell swoop. Fuck, you feel your arousal react to him.

Spencer grips your chin again, forcing you to look up at him. His trousers fall to his knees and you reach up to free his cock while maintaining eye contact. You grab his cock and pump him a couple of times before slipping him into your mouth. You watch as his mouth falls open into a perfect "o".

He closes his eyes and drops his head. He's impatient; he rolls his hips forward, shoving his cock down your throat. You gag, his size overwhelming you and move to back away. But Spencer holds you firm, a warm hand on the back of your head collects all your hair and holds you in place.

"Spence-" you gag over his dick, your hands flying to his thighs. You grip his legs and feel as your eyes begin to water.

"Fuck." he groans. "You feel so good, baby. C'mon, breathe through your nose. I know you can take it."

You do as he says and try to relax your throat, moulding yourself around him. Once you feel ready, you begin to move your head up and down his cock. You grip whatever you cannot fight into your mouth with your hand and pump his cock to the beat of your head.

Your tongue flicks up and down his cock, wrapping around the head where he is most sensitive. He's reacting beautifully; moaning your name, bucking his hips, whimpering.

"Fuck, baby, fuck." he keeps repeating your name, each time it urges you to go faster, deeper. "Yes - shit - just like that."

He's slurring his words, his mind is foggy. You can tell he's close. You take as much of him as you can into your mouth. His cock hits the back of your throat and you gag again, you're nearly full on crying now. You must look a mess; messed-up hair and mascara running down your cheeks.

Spencer tells you so. "You look amazing, my love. I'm close- keep going." his words encourage you; you don't stop. "Just like that. 'm close." he keeps repeating.

His jaw falls open, a low, primal grunt coming from deep within him. He's gripping your hair and calling out your name as he comes. You feel his cum in your mouth and you keep sucking, making sure he's completely done before moving to get off of him but Spencer stops you.

Once more, he holds you in place. You look up at him and furrow your brows. His cock is starting to soften in your mouth. He reaches down and pinches your nose.

"Swallow." its not a question, its an order.

You've never done it before, you usually always spit. Not that you wouldn't mind trying his cum, it's just not what you usually did.

You swallow, its audible in the quiet hallway. You feel his cock begin to harden once more in your mouth. Once Spencer is happy and sure you've done as he has ordered, he lets you go.

He helps you up and immediately kisses you. "You were perfect, my love." he says in between kisses.

You pull away and smile at him, licking your lips. "You taste good." you say innocently.

But you knew exactly what you were doing and though you yelp in surprise when Spencer picks you up and takes you to your shared room, you knew exactly what result that would garner.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds smut #reid x reader #reid smut

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despairinthedeqarture · 3 days

Text

spencer stop im in public..

#he looks so hot here #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #yas #despairinthedeqarture #alex turner #im actually just sitting in my bed

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marril96 · 3 days

Text

Criminal Minds 11.11 | Entropy

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sweetismyaddiction · 2 days

Text

SUCROSE

Paring: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: They live in the same building, in the same corridor, just in front of one another… which helps the friendship but couldn't stop Dr. Reid from falling in love

Word account: 1199

Warnings: Swearing, fluff, friends to lovers

A/N: English is not my first language. Reblog, like, and comment. I am accepting suggestions for the next parts (should I already tell about the nicknames?). Please be nice. The Gif is not mine. Credits to the oner

Chapter 1: Derek Morgan, next door

Y/N’s Point of View

The water ran warm against my skin, a relaxing shower was all I needed after one very busy day serving and cleaning, which was not the worst part of the job, the worst part certainly was the clients themselves.

I had a playlist on to help me relax, thank god I had the day off and would go just to the night shift today, so it is a study and cleaning house day. But a noise interfire my peace day. Noises that come from outside.

In the corridor someone knocked on a door calling a name, Spencer’s name… I finished my bath, put on my robe and with my towel dried a little of my hair just taking the exes of the water then brushing it. I came out just in time to see someone kicking down my door and entering my apartment holding a gun.

“What are you doing?”

The man is a black big man, he looks around and then to me still holding his gun pointing it to me.

“Where is Spencer Reid?”

“Who are you? What are you doing in my apartment? Why did you break my door?”

The last sentence was a scream, I can’t believe that a random dude broke my door for no reason. Can’t he see numbers?

“I am SSA Derek Morgan. Now, where is Reid?”

Morgan, the name rings in my ears. Spencer talked about him so many times. Apparently they are friends and coworkers, he can break Spencer’s door, not my door!

“Spencer’s door is the other one.” I point to the one just across the hall. “But relax big man, you do not need to break another door, I have the key, just wait in here and let me put some clothes on. Do not let anyone into my apartment. And put that gun down. Jesus”

Is this a thing? You have to be handsome to join the FBI? After putting a light dress and getting the key I get back to my living room, where that delight for tired eyes wait, he remains stoic, rigid, so tense. Should I be worried?

Knocking soft on the door and calling his name I warne Spencer that me and Morgan are coming in. No response, and the place is immaculate, everything in the right place.

“He must be asleep, he has been very tired those couple weeks. I am going to check his room.”

“By yourself?”

“Yeah. What? There is something I should know? He is contagious? A zombie? No? Ok, so I am totally fine going by myself.”

I walk slowly into his room, it is dark and quiet.

“Sugarpout? Spence?”

A peaceful breathing is heard when closer to the bed, he is involved in his blankets, is the sights of heaven, my heart gets warm seeing Spencer resting peacefully.

I sit at the bed and run my hand delicately in his soft hair before resetting it in his forehead checking his temperature, he moves a little moaning in protest.

“Shh… it's me Sugarpout, it is ok, you can keep sleeping”

Is a very quiet whisper as I place a tender kiss to his forehead leaving my boy there, his hand landing on top of mine making me smile, as quiet as I entered his bedroom is as I live.

Just at the room door, Derek looks at us, I just make a signal to him to keep quiet and we are back to Spencer’s living room.

“So… you seemed troubled. There is something I should know? Is something wrong with Spencer?”

“Why do you have his keys?”

“Cause I live just across the hall?”

Who does he think he is to interrogate me?

“Serious? That 's why? Common, hot stuff, Reid didn't make a move on that gorgeous woman? Man, he really doesn't have material… or does he?”

Flirtatious Morgan, Reid said he was just like that, all charming. Just bark, don’t bite. Well… I don’t think girls would mind if he bites them, I recognize good stuff when I see it.

“Changing subject that quickly? What are you avoiding agent?”

He just looked at me, no verbal answer, heavy shoulders unmatched with the flirt smile on his face… for a profiler he isn't that good in hiding emotions.

“Seriously” a puff of air came out of me. “Is everything okay with him?”

“Yes, Reid is fine. I… was just worried, we had a hard case and he wasn’t answering the phone…”

“I believe you”

“So… why the keys?”

“I live very close, we are friends and I am his food stealer”

I blinked at the man with a dirty smile in my face mixed with my sweet traces.

“Food stealer?”

“He is out, I need something, I enter his apartment, I grab what I need, and then I come back to my place. Simple”

“Are you confessing a crime to an FBI agent?”

“A crime against another agent. And the other agent is very aware of what I do in his hose”

“Sorry about the door”

“It’s okay, it is nice to know Sugarpout have friend that really care about him”

It is impossible not to smile, I care so much about the genius boy. Knowing other people also care about him warmes my insides, it is really good to know he is well protected in the field.

“Sugarpout?”

My eyes almost fall out of my face. Shit! It is a private nickname.

“Don’t. Do not, ever, ever, talk about it to anyone, It is private, and especial, so please…”

“Okay, a secret. Someday you will tell me?”

“Maybe”

Derek Morgan lives his card with me. He waited about 30 minutes talking to me, but it seemed Spencer wouldn't wake up so soon, so Derek decided to go home, but promised to pay for my door. In my opinion it was the very minimum he could do, but them we have a talk, and his caring by Spencer was more than enough for me to forget about my broken door.

“Sugar?”

“Hey, Sugarpout, did you sleep well?”

I smile going to start to prepare something for him to eat.

“How long have I sleeped?”

“Something around two hours, you needed it. Morgan passed by, and broke my door”

“He what?”

“Broke my door. He was knocking, no one opened, then he kicked in. But surprise, surprise. It was the wrong door.”

“Sorry”

“It is not your fault, and he is going to pay for the repair, he was just worried because you didn’t answer the phone, and the last case was hard. I assume you basically blacked out from exhaustion so I decided to let you sleep.”

The toast is ready as is the coffee, the black coffee with tons of sugar.

“Here you go Sugarpout, you need to eat, and then you should call your people. I am not asking about the case. Just a reminder that you can talk about anything with me anytime, I am just one door away.”

I kiss his head, before going back to my place. I could tell he needed a moment alone to call his friends, especially Derek after what I vaguely told him.

#spencer reid x reader #criminalminds #doctor spencer reid #dr spencer reid fluff #spencer reid #spencer reid criminal minds #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x yn #spencer reid x you #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic

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secretlovezz · 8 hours

Text

Thinking about laying in bed with them for the first time.

---------♡

You're facing each other, just letting your gaze wander along them -mostly along their face- and admiring them. Your hands are clasped together under your head and your legs are bent just enough for your knees to brush against their pants.

You don't realize it but you're smiling, a bright smile that emphasizes the crinkle at the corner of your eyes and the crease of your smile lines. Your eyes shine too filled with love for the breath-taking person in front of you.

What beautiful eyes.

"What?" They chuckled, the angelic sound was almost shy.

Your making eye contact now and your brows furrow in confusion. "Huh?" You sighed dreamily.

They chuckled again this time it was a cheeky one. They had a little smirk on their face, eyes crinkled and squinted with love just as yours were.

Their fingers brush the hair from your face and you sigh in contentment as you feel their fingertips drag along your face, thumb brushing back and forth against the skin it stops on, "you said I had beautiful eyes... do you really think so?" The question left their lips in a whisper.

You smile again.

Your hand moves to mirror theirs and you place it against the skin of their cheek.

"Yeah, the most beautiful."

Aaron Hotchner, Spencer Reid, Eddie Munson, Robin Buckley, Bucky Barnes

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fortheloveofwonderland · 1 day

Text

Rusty | Chapter 12 | S.R

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter Summary - In the wake of Luke’s visit, you and Spencer are forced to be honest with one another. How will a former FBI Agent react to discovering he’s been harbouring a fugitive?

Pairing - Spencer Reid / Fem! Reader

Category - strangers to friends to lovers | angst | smut minors DNI

Warnings - heavy on dialogue, graphic depictions of violence and murder, past abuse, death of a parent, swearing, tears, prison arc, Cat Adams, dissociation, brief mention of past addiction, making out, use of term “rape”, fingering, oral (f receiving), male masturbation, confessed feelings.

WC - 6.2k

Chapter 12 - Slow Dancing in a Burning Room

Silence.

As a little girl the sounds of silence ringing throughout your home was a warning sign. Silence was an indication that something wasn’t right, something was deeply wrong.

The rare moments in which voices weren’t exploding off of walls, reverberating through the halls, cracking, rumbling, echoing within the house filled you with dread, morbid anticipation for when their raucous feuding would begin again.

Silence in the Reid household derived the opposite, offering a privileged repreve. The small windows in time when his mother was lucid, instead of screaming so loudly that walls shook, were a wondrous abatement of his responsibility.

When she simply slept as opposed to yelling that they were coming to take her away. Silence was a solace, enjoyed but not necessarily revelled in, because he knew all too well it wouldn’t last.

It went a long way to explain the fundamental difference between the two of you. Where you always tried to fill those deafening voids of quietude, Spencer fought to let them pass freely and for as long as they pleased.

It was so still in the lodge that you could hear the wind rustling through the long grass outside. If you really focused you could even hear the far off sounds of the horses in the stables.

It was the kind of quiet that left you on tenterhooks, the kind that came before an all mighty eruption. The calm before the storm. The tranquillity before the chaos. The respite before all hell broke loose.

You and Spencer didn’t know each other at all and that was startling apparent now. But thanks to Luke’s visit, it was time to dig up all those secrets you’d both tried to bury from one another.

It was the witching hour. The be all and end all.

You had relocated to the couch while Spencer was unable to sit still. He paced the length of his living room while you toyed with your hands in your lap. The longer he patrolled, the more he limped, but he didn’t let it slow him down.

He raised his good hand and threaded it in his hair. He entwined his fingers in the locks and tugged at his roots. Grounding. Tethering. He was trying not to divorce his mind from the situation.

It was almost an hour spent like this after Luke’s departure. Neither of you wanted to speak for fear of what you might say, what you might unearth. But it was an inevitable conversation and eventually one of you would need to break this fractured silence.

Normally that would fall to you, but not this time. The words wouldn’t come, you were still too busy trying to wade through all of the information. For a time you were at a stalemate, neither of you willing to be the first to break the silence.

But then with a huff of breath, Spencer finally stopped pacing before he wore a hole in the floor and glared at you with the kind of gaze reserved for the criminals he interrogated back in his previous life.

“I'm gonna need you to explain to me why my ex Fugitive Hunter, ex boyfriend has a file with your face on in his possession.” His voice was surprisingly steady, not loud but not quiet either. Not necessarily angry but certainly not untroubled.

You leaned forward, your elbows on your knees. You scrutinised him with your gaze, locking eyes with him to show you were not to be intimidated.

“And I’m gonna need you to explain to me how an FBI Agent wound up in prison before falling off the grid and uprooting his whole life to live out some cowboy fantasy.” You retorted, not willing to give it up so easily.

Spencer’s eyes darkened, you saw his jaw pulse as he clenched it. He was most definitely not budging on this.

“You first.” He growled.

You continued to stare at him, offering him your full attention but not a single word. His jaw oscillated furiously, you swore you could hear the grinding of his teeth.

“I swear to god if you don’t tell me everything I will call him back here, Y/N.” He spoke again when you didn’t make a sound.

You run your tongue around the inside of your mouth, weighing up your options. You had very few. You could make a run for it but Spencer was no doubt faster and he was closer to the door. You could try and lie to him but now you knew he’d been a profiler that wouldn't be easy.

If your gun wasn’t in your glovebox, you might have considered shooting him, not that you wanted it to come to that. You did care about him after all.

Your final option was simply to tell him the truth and await his reaction. If he called Luke then you could reassess the situation. For now, all you had was the cold, undiluted truth.

“I told you about my mom and my stepdad.” You began with a tenuous breath. “After I found out she died, I confronted the son of a bitch. I couldn’t stop myself. He as good as admitted to me that he killed her. I didn’t go there to hurt him, at least I don’t think I did. But I did take my revolver.

“He almost immediately started beating on me like I knew he would. I thought maybe if I let him hurt me just enough I could go to the cops. But then he got me up against a wall, his hand around my throat and I thought this is it, he’s going to kill me. So I had to act fast.

“I pulled out my gun and I shot him in the stomach. As he was stumbling backwards I emptied my magazine into the bastard. But it wasn’t enough. He was dead, sure, but it wasn’t enough. After everything he’d put me and mom through, it wasn’t fucking enough.

“So I reloaded and shot him six more times. A neighbour must have heard the gun fire because the cops showed up pretty fast. Everything was a blur. I somehow ended up in a cell, my fingerprints taken, my DNA.

“I had to remain in holding pending trial as I had no one to bail me out. Eventually when the trial came, I was charged with manslaughter two. Seven years. Seven fucking years.” You paused to take another breath. Tears were readily falling down your cheeks at this point and Spencer’s expression was unreadable.

“The guard that was transferring me upstate was a real soft touch, young and green. I’ll admit I manipulated him, got him in a compromised position and I escaped.

“I spent about six months on the run. In the meantime I guess I must have fallen on the radar of your ex boyfriend and his partner. I knew I recognised him when I saw that photo in your room but I never saw him up close, only once from afar. It was his partner that finally caught up to me and I was put back in prison.

“I spent a year in a max security facility. A few weeks ago there was a prison break. I almost didn’t leave. Almost. But I did. I ran and I fucking ran and I kept running until I find some cowboy injured on the side of the road. I'm not proud of what I did, Spencer, but if I had to do it all again I wouldn’t change a thing. So you can call Luke back but I will run again. I am not going back to prison, I would sooner die.”

You stopped talking and were once again met by a long stretch of silence. Spencer started to pace the room again, his expression still blank and you had no idea what he was thinking. He didn’t make an immediate grab for the phone so you could only hope there was a small chance he might not turn you in.

You watched from the couch as he walked back and forth, back and forth. Every now and again he would huff out a breath and rake his fingers through his hair. You didn’t know what to think, and it unnerved you.

He wasn’t entirely surprised in truth, he’d known you were running from some kind of trouble. The signs had been there, and there had been many. And they all spiralled into the forefront of his memory.

“What if I rob you? You don’t know me, I could be a criminal.”

“You’re not gonna rob me.”

“You couldn’t possibly know that.”

“I'm good at reading people. You have a trustworthy face.”

——

He didn’t miss the way you jumped a little at the initial sound and how your body seemed to go rigid at the sight of the flashing lights.

——

“What do you do?”

“This and that.”

——

“Are you in some kind of trouble?”

“Why would you think that?”

“Deflection. Answering a question with a question. You are in trouble.”

He suddenly stopped pacing, looking back at you. His face didn’t give away what was going on in his head, perhaps that was deliberate. His body went rigid as he sucked in a breath and then deflated as he exhaled.

“Four years ago I was arrested for drug possession and later charged with murder. I was framed by a woman I arrested about a year prior. She used a partner on the outside to get me in a compromised position, drugged me so I couldn’t remember what happened. I spent three months in prison while my team worked to prove my innocence. But in the meantime, Cat, the woman pulling the strings, had my mom kidnapped.

“I have not been the same since then. When I was released I tried to continue as normal, like nothing had changed. But I was changed. Three months inside felt like three years and it destroyed the very fabric of my being. I can’t imagine what a year would have been like.

“The first time I suffered a dissociation was when I had to come face to face with Cat again after my release. I thought she’d had my mom killed and I got her up against the wall with my hand around her throat. And to make matters worse, she was pregnant.” He grimaced a little now, clearly he was seeing the similarities between what he’d done and what your stepdad did to you. You wanted to tell him it wasn’t the same but he spoke again. “I still to this day don’t remember doing it. For a few seconds I blacked out and when I came back around my friend Jennifer had wrenched me off of her.

“And then it happened with Luke.” He choked back tears. “He tried to…touch me and my mind just divorced itself. The next thing I knew I had his arm twisted behind him, pinning it to his back. That’s when I knew I had to leave. If I wanted to keep the people I loved safe, I had to leave. My medication helps to a degree but I’m not the same. I’m never going to be the same. I couldn’t be an FBI Agent anymore when I couldn’t trust myself in the field. What if I dissociated and killed someone? No, I had to take myself out of the equation.”

You could see the unshed tears behind his eyes but he was determined not to let them fall. Your own were still rapidly rolling down your cheeks but you didn’t care. You’d kept this all bottled up for far too long and it needed to come out.

He stood staring at you, rolling his lip between his teeth. What did this all mean? Where did the two of you go from here?

“So what now?” You sighed with a shrug of your shoulders. “I wouldn’t blame you for calling him back. You might not still be an agent but you took an oath once upon a time. Protect and serve, right?”

Spencer was mulling over your words, nodding his head slowly. He cupped his jaw, brushed his fingers over the scratchy stubble. You weren’t sure if it was an attempt to ground himself or just something he did when he was deep in thought.

“I should call him. I know that I should.” He dropped his hand again, his eyebrows pinched. You could almost see the internal debate happening in his head. “But…I know what it’s like to be pushed to the darkest realms of your mind, to feel like violence is the only way out.

“If Cat had killed my mom, I wouldn’t have hesitated in doing the same to her. And I would have slept well after. There are three particular men from my past who if I ever saw again I would, without doubt, kill. So if I were to call Luke, it would be hypocritical of me. Because I understand why you did what you did. And honestly? I don’t blame you.”

You choked on a sob and it wracked your frame. Your emotions were coming in huge waves and you couldn’t see an end in sight.

“Is this a trick?” Your voice wet with tears. “Did you somehow alert him and he’s on his way back here? Are you trying to distract me?”

Spencer surprised you when he laughed, shaking his head at your question. He finally moved closer to you, dropping down to the couch. He took hold of your hand in his good one and laced your fingers together. He smiled gently at you, his eyes soft as he looked at you.

“No, Y/N, I swear to you this isn’t a trick.” He croaked. “Do you believe in karma?”

Your brow pinched deeper, unsure where he was going with this.

“Yes, very much so.” You nodded.

“Me too. Although I hate to admit that because I’m a man of science and logic. But I do believe that what we put out in the universe has some bearing on how we are compensated in return. You and I aren’t that much different. We’ve both seen our share of immense trauma, both had to face things no one should ever have to go through.

“But I’m starting to think that maybe us finding each other was the universe's way of cutting us both some slack. Maybe we are each other’s rewards for the atrocities we’ve been forced to face. I have no intention of turning you in, and if you run anyway, I would be inclined to follow you. Because I think we need each other. I think we’re just two lost souls who found each other just when we needed one another the most.

“I spent my whole life feeling as though no one understood me, alone in a constant sea of people. But since I met you, I’ve felt seen for the first time in my life. Even before I told you all of this, I think you saw something in me that resonated with you. I think ultimately, we’re one in the same; two peas from the same fucked up pod. I think I’m…” he trailed off, swallowing a lump that suddenly formed in his throat. “I think I’m falling in love with you and I think I want to let myself.”

Somehow his confession caused more tears to fall from your eyes and he was quick to let go of your hand and cup your cheek so he could brush them away. He held you with a delicacy you’d never experienced before. No one had ever been so kind, so gentle with you. No one had ever looked at you the way Spencer was right now.

You’d done a terrible thing and you knew it. Although you didn’t necessarily regret your actions, and you certainly weren’t missing any sleep over Leon's death. But because of what you’d done you’d resided yourself to being alone. No one in their right mind would ever accept for you for who you were and where you’d been.

But Spencer Reid - Doctor, SSA whatever he was - didn’t just accept you but he understood you.

It was intrinsic. A deep seated comprehension passed between you. Perhaps Spencer had a point, for all your collective wrong doings, all the trauma you had both suffered, maybe the universe was offering you to each other in compensation.

The tears continued to fall and he didn’t stop wiping them away. The look he was giving you told you he would always be there to dry your tears. He briefly removed his hand from your face and took yours again, pulling you to your feet with him. Once you were both standing you instantly fell into his outstretched arms.

You nuzzled your face against his chest and he encased you in his arms. His cast pressed against your back but if you felt any discomfort you didn’t mention it. His other hand meandered up and down your spine, rubbing your back in a calming manner while you sobbed into his t-shirt. It occurred to you that this was the first time he’d ever hugged you.

In return you wrapped your arms around his waist, holding him so tightly he felt the air being squeezed from his lungs. But he didn’t care. Not in the slightest.

He lowered his head, resting his cheek on your crown. His breath fanned through your hair, his strong, comforting hand scoring up and down your back whilst his heart beat could be felt from your proximity.

Never in your entire life had you felt so secure than you did at that precise moment in time.

You’d spent so many years running from the prospect of closeness, hiding your heart away from the world. After losing your father so young and then your mother at the hands of her second husband, you had learnt to never depend on anyone.

In Spencer you had found a kindred spirit. He had built up the same walls around his heart, guarding himself from the world with the same careful precision you had. He didn’t let people in because he, like you, had been burnt in the past.

But as he held you in such a tentative yet unyielding manner, you could feel the defences you’d carefully curated start to crumble to dust.

Spencer's approval and resolute understanding of the very fibre of your being was resoundingly stalwart. You knew as he tightened his grip on you that he would be forever unwavering in his adoration and protection of you.

“Spence?” You whispered, wiping your eyes on his shirt before looking up at him.

He lifted his own head and brought his good hand to your jaw. Your chin rested in his large palm while his fingers caressed your cheeks.

“Yes Y/N?” He whispered, glossy eyes peering down at you.

“I think it’s only fair that you know…” you trailed off, sucking in a breath, preparing to speak words you’d never said to another person before. “I also think I am falling in love with you too. And at this point, I’m too far gone to stop.”

He breathed out a sigh of relief and chuckled lightly before brushing his lips over your own.

“Please don’t stop.” He mumbled into your lips. “Because I have every intention of catching you when you are ready to fall.”

“You know you’ll never have a normal life, right? I’m on the run, I’m always going to be looking over my shoulder.”

“Y/N I have never known a normal day in my life.” He laughed. “I’d rather be looking over my shoulder forever with you by my side than ever be without you.”

“You really do know all the right things to say, huh?” You smiled up at him, your heart wrapped in a warm blanket of affection.

“Not usually.” He shrugged. “But you make it so easy.”

He brushed his lips over yours again, keeping his hand on your face, holding you as if you were a fragile bird.

“No more secrets?” You asked, eyes pleading.

You noticed something flicker across his features briefly as he drew in a breath.

“In the interest of transparency, the real reason I don’t drink is because I had a drug problem. A long time ago now but, uh, yeah.” He puckered his lips.

“Wow, you really are messed up.” You chuckled. “I have a trunk full of cash which I took from my mom’s safe after I killed my step dad. And the car outside is stolen. I took it from a junkyard and changed the plates so no one should be looking for it, but it’s always a possibility.”

Spencer closed his eyes for a few seconds, nodding his head in understanding.

“Might be best to get rid of it at some point.” He mused out loud. “Where did you get a cell phone if you’re on the run?”

“It’s a burner.” You shrugged. “I mostly relied on a paper map and my own instincts whilst travelling but I needed it just in case. Good job I did too because otherwise you might still be out in that desert.”

“Lucky for me.” He kissed you again, more passionate than before, his tongue edging into your mouth to deepen it.

It was a strange and alien feeling having someone know you so completely, and not only know you but accept you.

He was soon leading you back towards his bedroom and the two of you climbed into bed together. You undressed each other down to your underwear before Spencer started to tense up. He pulled back from your lips and stroked your hair back off of your face.

“I, uh, I thought I was ready but…” he trailed off with a fractured sigh.

“You’re not there yet.” You finished for him.

“Not quite.” He admitted, a faint blush spreading to his cheeks. “I’m sorry, I’m trying.”

“Please don’t apologise to me, it’s okay.” You brushed your knuckles over his stubbly jaw. “Spence, I have to ask…”

His eyes snapped closed and his body stiffened. He rolled away from you until he was on his back.

“Please,” he mumbled. “It’s been a lot today. Can we just…?”

“Okay,” you agreed, although not placated by his answer. “Can I…at least hold you?”

His body seemed to relax a little at that and you saw his head nod against the pillow. He held his arm open and you curled into him, resting your head on his chest and draping your arm over his stomach, careful to avoid his wound he hadn’t yet redressed.

His skin was warm against the side of your face and you closed your eyes, breathing him in. He tucked his own arm around you, resting his hand on your hip and brushing his fingers against your flesh.

There were some things he simply couldn’t talk about. A part of him wanted to, a part of him wanted you to know him inside and out. And maybe one day you would. But he was exhausted by this day and needed to keep this one thing close to this chest.

Telling the woman he was falling in love with that he was raped was not exactly high on his priority list.

***

When you awoke you were on your side facing the window. From this angle you could see pieces of the rolling expanse of land bathed in the early morning sunlight through the slatted blinds.

Spencer’s casted arm was around you, one of his knees pressed between your own thighs, his front flush against your back. He was already awake, that much you were certain of as his lips were peppering kisses along the side and back of your neck.

You nuzzled back against him to let him know you were awake too, and he held you tighter. His hips grinded against your ass and given that between you there was only your flimsy panties and his boxers, it was inherently obvious how hard he was.

Less than twelve hours ago he said he wasn’t ready for anything like this but you weren’t going to complain.

Spencer had woken up like this, pressing against you, holding you for dear life. He’d been standing at half mast in his pants before he opened his eyes. With his brain still addled by sleep, he was going to take advantage of it and just let himself give over to this.

He kissed along your jaw bone, fingers that peeked out of the cast brushing over your ribs. The cast was impeding what he wanted to achieve and he grumbled a little against your skin.

“Can we, uh, relocate?” He mumbled.

“As in?” You croaked out a reply.

“Same position. Other side.”

You nodded against the pillow before rolling over to face him. Spencer was particularly uncoordinated in his attempt to clamber over you, lay himself down and resume spooning you.

He tucked his casted arm under the pillow and his good hand was now able to freely wander your body. He forced his mind to stay in the ether, somewhere between wakefulness and sleep. He needed this, he needed to feel connected to you, more so than he already did.

He didn’t waste time with the preamble, didn’t want to allow his mind to be fully aware in case he started overthinking it. He brushed his fingers over the waistband of your panties to which you moaned in response.

Taking that as a green light, he manoeuvred his knee back between your thighs to wedge your legs open and let his hand slide inside them, instantly moving towards your clit.

You gasped at the contact of his deft index finger pressing against your bundle of nerves, wiggling your ass back against his crotch.

Spencer started rubbing intricate circles on your bud, closing his eyes and burying his face into the back of your neck.

You were already completely soaked and it drove him wild to know he could have this effect on you before he’d even touched you.

His ministrations were fast and desperate, and he started rutting against you in no time at all. You had barely escaped the blankets of sleep and your head was still hazy.

His finger flicked and pressed with adept precision. He knew exactly what he was doing and your moans were testament to that.

You were already spiralling, falling into the depths of pleasure bestowed by him. You rocked against his hand, fitfully to increase the friction.

His heavy breaths on your neck and his hardness rubbing up against your ass cheek were only adding to it. You wanted to turn your head, look at him, kiss him; but he kept you pinned to his chest.

Your thighs were trying to clamp around his hand as he toyed delicately with your clit, but his knee was in your way. You heard him chuckle darkly into your hair.

“What? What do you want?” He mumbled, his lips pressing against the skin of your neck.

“M-more,” you simply whined.

Spencer thrust against you, the feeling was mutual.

Suddenly he withdrew his hand from your panties making you whine like a feral dog. He then shuffled backwards, pulling you roughly by your shoulder until you were on your back.

He quickly knelt over you, his eyes dark and pupils blown wide. His messy bed hair hung in his face and a sinful smile was adorned on his lips.

He kissed you hard and fast, tongue plunging into your mouth and messily exploring its contours. It only lasted a moment before his lips trailed down your jaw and to your neck.

He sucked deeply at the apex of your throat, you could already feel a bruise to begin to form in his wake. But then his lips continued to trail lower…

He kissed the swell of your breasts over your bra, down between them across your sternum. Brushing over your ribs they kept getting lower and lower until…

A wanton moan escaped you as his lips ghosted across the waistband of your panties. Spencer smirked against them as he raised his hands and started pulling the fabric down out of his way.

You kicked them off your legs, looking up at him with large eyes.

“Is this what you want?” He spoke against the skin of your hip bone.

“Y-yes…” you whimpered. “Yes p-please, Spencer.”

“Not Spencer,” he smirked at you. “Call me Doctor.”

You whined loudly, arching your back off of the bed.

“Fucking hell.” You panted. “Why is that so hot? P-please Doctor. Need it. Need you.”

He growled at your use of his honorific, straining painfully at the front of his boxers. He let his lips graze lower, breathing in your natural scent.

You instinctively parted your legs wider and Spencer settled between them, gazing between your legs like he’d just found the holy grail.

There was a point not so long ago when the idea of intimacy, specifically oral sex, would have sent him spiralling into the darkness. But right now he needed his face between your legs with an unadulterated desperation.

Perhaps had you been a man it might have been different. In all honesty he knew he’d never be able to perform oral sex on a man again. Chances were, he may never be able to receive it again either.

Your glistening cunt spread before him was the most dizzying sight he’d ever beheld. And although it had been an extremely long time since he’d been here with a woman, he still knew exactly what was needed to pleasure you the way you deserved.

His forearm came down on your stomach, pinning your writhing body to the bed. He edged his face closer and closer until you could feel his breath between your legs.

And then the flat of his tongue swiped through your slicken folds, collecting your arousal on the muscle and swallowing you down.

He moaned at your taste and it vibrated through you. You wiggled beneath him but he held you down harder with his arm.

He was purposefully slow in his movements, making you desperately squirm against him in the need to get him where you so badly needed him.

His facial hair was rough between your legs, causing a friction that was unimaginably pleasurable.

He allowed his tongue to dance between your folds, teasingly avoiding your clit. You whined as your fingers dove into his hair and tried to tug him higher by his roots. A laugh escaped him, dissolving between your legs.

“Someone’s impatient.” He mumbled, swallowing down more of your bitter arousal.

“Can you blame me?” You panted, wrapping your legs around his neck.

He chuckled again, placing a kiss on the inside of each of your thighs. And without warning he plunged back between your legs like a scuba diver taking to the ocean and drew your bud into his mouth.

You gasped loudly, fingers curling into his thick locks and gripping them with all of your might. He suckled your clit, his tongue swirling around it in the most jaw dropping way conceivable.

Your eyes rolled back in your head and your thighs clamped around his head. You thought you could have just come then and there.

His tongue was skilled, as though this was a well practised art to his. He was sure of himself and it was warranted. He settled quickly into a smooth rhythm, one in which sent a heat flooding throughout your entire body.

His strong arm held you down against the bed as you frantically rocked against his face, coating his chin and mouth in your slick.

Spencer was moaning against your clit, a man possessed by his one objective of bringing you to orgasm with his tongue.

In his mind we’re only two thoughts fighting for dominance: getting you off and the almost painful straining against his boxers.

Without really meaning to, his hand wandered of its own volition between your bodies and straight into his pants.

He gasped as his hand wrapped around his shaft as though surprised by it. He quickly started pumping himself in his hand, but kept his attention between your legs.

The sounds of his saliva mixed with your arousal and the room was awash with the sloppy sounds of Spencer’s eating you out.

Your fingers were lost in his hair. Your legs tightened around his head to the point you might suffocate him. But he didn’t care.

He let his tongue glide back between your legs hissing in desire as he collected your seed on his deft muscle. Soon enough he settled back on your clit, sucking it back into his warm, wet mouth once more.

Your body was convulsing, trembling and tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. Your impending orgasm swelled in the pit of your stomach right beneath Spencer’s arm.

Your nails grazed his scalp and he bucked into his hand, precum leaking from the tip. He wanted to continue this forever, spend every single moment of every single day worshipping you between your legs.

But he knew you were close, he knew it was only a matter of time before you reached your peak.

As if on cue, you tugged tightly on his hair, thighs pressing viciously against the sides of his face.

“F-fuck…” you stammered, the tears now rolling from your eyes. “S-Spence, I’m gonna…oh fuck.”

A final, rushing wave of pleasure encompassed you and he sucked harder on your bud, as a scream erupted from you.

You came with a string of slurs and whines and Spencer continued to lap his tongue back and forth over your clit until you were physically pushing him away.

Your body was a quivering mess beneath him, your hold on his hair and grip of his face loosening as your limbs flopped like a rag doll to the mattress.

Spencer collected your arousal on his tongue, making you whimper and shudder. With a chuckle he sat back on his haunches, still with his hand around his cock.

You blinked a few times, bringing him into focus. The sight before you could only be described as divine.

His mouth and chin was glossy with your arousal, his eyes nodded with lust. His hair was messier now after your assault on it and fell in his eyes.

His boxers were pushed down to his thighs and he hurriedly jerked himself in his hand as he knelt over you.

You rolled your bottom lip feverishly between your teeth, unable to take your eyes off of his thick, hard shaft in his hand.

His stomach was clenched, his abdominal muscles tightening beneath his flesh. His member was coated with his own slick and you regarded the way the vein on the underside pulsed with each pump of his hand.

“I’m c-close.” He mumbled, increasing his speed. “Where can I…?”

“Anywhere.” You were quick to answer. “Anywhere.”

The endless possibilities were too much for his hazy brain and didn’t move, couldn’t move. Instead he kept up his strokes for a few more moments before the tug in his balls and pinch of his stomach alerted him to the imminence of his orgasm.

Seconds later he stuttered out a breath, mumbling, “f-f-fuck!” And then he erupted, streak after streak of hot come across your stomach and hips.

He slowed his strokes but continued to pump himself more leisurely as he expelled every last drop of his orgasm, some of which dripped down the side of his balled fist.

Once his cock was completely spent, his legs gave way and he collapsed next to you on the mattress, quickly drawing you in for a deep and slightly messy kiss.

The smell of sex clung to the air, heavy and heady and in return Spencer clung to you like you were his only lifeline. You held him with as much energy you had left in your body, limbs entwining to the point you didn’t know where you ended and he began.

He peppered sloppy kisses everywhere he could reach, from you cheeks to your neck to the crown of your head. This had to be heaven because nothing had ever felt this good.

He looked at you, deep into your eyes as he cupped your face delicately in his hand. It was impossible to doubt his loyalty to you when he looked at you like that.

“I, uh, I lied before about something.” He croaked and you immediately frowned at him.

“About what?” You pouted but Spencer was smiling at you, dispelling some of your nerves.

“I told you I was falling in love with you. I lied.”

“I don’t…I don’t understand.” You croaked.

He inhaled deeply through his nose as his hand trailed into your hair. His gaze was permeating right through to your soul.

“I’m not falling in love with you. Because I’ve already fallen.” His smile grew but there was a hint of nerves laced into his words.

You exhaled in relief, half wanting to slap him for misleading you like that. But instead you kissed him.

“God that was mean.” You laughed against his lips. “And I guess that makes two of us.”

You felt him relax in your arms at your admittance and he pulled you tighter to his chest.

You were ultimately just two fucked up people just trying to find your place in the world. And neither of you would have ever thought you’d find it here together.

@kalulakunundrum @small-and-violent @voledart @katrina0-0 @bakugouswh0r3 @prettyboyandthefangirl @zooni92802 @marvellover1819 @babyspiderling

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem! reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction

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cowboyspence · 9 hours

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Baby Reid? Baby Reid!

Summary: Spencer finds out that you're pregnant

Pairing: Spencer Reid x female reader

Word count: 342 (I at least think so)

Disclaimer: This the the first fan fiction I ever wrote + english is not my native language + I have no idea how tumblr works to be honest lol

You and Spencer have been married for 2 months now after dating for more than 4 years. Your marriage couldn't possibly be any better. You barely ever argued but lately something has changed.

You've been acting different. Spencer noticed. The team noticed. Everyone noticed.

You were constantly mad at Spencer for no reason at all. You barely ate. And you were tired all the time. Is she sick? Spencer asks himself. Maybe it was his fault, he thought. That he did something wrong and now you're upset. But despite of his eidetic memory, he couldn't remember anything he could've done to upset you. So he decided to just look up your symptoms to find out what you might have.

He typed your symptoms into his computer at work.The results shocked him...Pregnancy symptoms was the first thing that came up.

Could that be possible? Could that explain why you've been acting this way? When did this happen? he questioned himself. What a dumb question...Your wedding night 2 months ago. A night full of passion and love and most importantly right now....without any contraception.

After minutes of just staring at his computer screen, he decided to just ask you. If it just was this easy Spencer thought.But he knew that it's the best and only thing he could do in this situation. He walked over to your desk, that is not far away from his own.

"Y/N, can we talk real quick?" your husband asked. "Sure, what's up, love?" you replied.Spencer blushed at the nickname, even though you've been calling him love ever since you two started dating. This was probably the nicest you've been to him in days. "I'm just gonna ask you, because I know that you hate when I don't get to the point and umm..." "Spence, breath" you answered, as an attempt to calm him down. "Are you pregnant?", he suddenly blurted out. "Umm..." you couldn't even form proper words. That was everything he needed to answer his question:

You were in fact pregnant.

#cowboyspence #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader

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reidfucker · 1 day

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i have to be strapped down. currently thinking about fucking that one pretty boy until he's not so genius anymore!!!

overstimulation and dumbification reid x male reader fics i NEED YOU.

#spencer reid #criminal minds #sub spencer reid #bottom spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x male reader

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youbutstupid · 7 hours

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MGG and Shemar Moore invented cuddling the homies

#criminal minds #spencer reid #derek morgan #mgg #matthew gray gubler #shemar moore

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reidsdimples · 2 days

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Casual Morning with your boyfriend Spencer Reid❤️🫶🏻

“This probably isn’t the best idea,” Spencer mumbles.

“I promise I won’t cut you, please?” You give him your best pouty lip and puppy dog eyes.

He eyes the straight razor you got him for his birthday, concern and curiosity causing his eyebrows to raise. He has two days worth of stubble that you adore, but the intimacy of shaving him is an idea you haven’t been able to shake.

“I-“ he hesitates with reddening cheeks. You place your hand on his chest where the top buttons of his dark shirt are opened.

“Fine,” he mumbles. You hop up and down with excitement.

His shirt from the night before is the only thing you wear in the early morning, exposing your long legs for him to admire. He seems to snap himself out of it in a flash though and says;

“Don’t jump around with a razor!” His warning comes out in a laugh and wide smile as he grips your hips to steady you.

His touch causes your breathing to hitch, his long fingers digging softly into your skin. The air heats between you and his nervous excitement in a familiar tug, pulling you closer to him.

You shove him backwards into the bathroom, causing a breathy laugh to escape him. He pushes his longer strands of hair from his face and looks you over.

“Sit,” you instruct. You know if you get off task, he’ll never get to work in time.

You move to stand between his legs, meeting his eyes as you mix the shaving cream. He tilts his head up at you, a small content smile on his soft lips.

“Did you know shaving began between 60,000 and 100,000 years ago,” he starts as you use the brush to swipe the cream on his cheek. “They used clam shells like tweezers,” he continues softly.

“And where did you find that piece of knowledge Dr.Reid?” You look down at him in amusement. His ramblings are one of your favorite things about him.

“I came across a book at the library about the history of shaving,” he offered a tight lipped smile. “It was about a ten minute read.”

You don’t have to even guess that it would take a normal person at least an hour to read said book.

“Your brilliant mind won’t save you from this,” you hold up the shiny razor playfully with a wicked grin now that the shaving cream covers his face.

You brush some hair from his forehead and close the space between the two of you, his head level with your breasts. His looking up at the ceiling, unmoving as you move the razor gently upward underneath his chin.

“Have you done this before?” He croaks nervously.

“Nope, now shh,” you push your finger against his warm lips and continue.

You take in the sharp cut of his jaw as the shaving cream disappears with each swipe of the razor. He breaths softly, his eyes fluttering closed to signal his trust. You use one hand on the back of his head to tug his hair so he knows which way to tilt his head. This time you tug gently but a small groan escaped his throat.

You raise your eyebrows, all of your attention going to the small breathy sound. His hands move from being relaxed on his legs to gently caressing the backs of your thighs. Slowly at first, just his fingertips teasing the soft skin there. Then he relaxes his hands and pulls you closer.

“Spence,” you warn, rinsing off the razor. His eyes flutter open, pupils dilated and cheeks heated. “I’m almost done.”

Just to mess with him more you twist your fingers into his hair and shove him harder into the chair. His nails dig into your thighs, just under your butt with a grunt.

You finish the last bit of shaving his now soft face and drop the old style razor into the water. You climb into his lap, straddling him with a grin.

“I have a case briefing in 30 minutes,” he sighs.

“It’s a ten minute drive,” you whisper against his neck, inhaling his fresh scent.

He turns his head towards you, his tongue swiping his bottom lip hungrily. His breathing grows more ragged, more needy for a moment, just long enough for you to catch the pleading in his eyes. Then his lips crash into yours.

They’re soft, familiar, and taste like him. Both of your hands grip his hair as his tongue fights yours for dominance. The need for more, more, more of each other is consuming. It’s waves crashing to shore in a hurricane, it’s chaos and beauty all at once.

His arms wrap around your waist, your bodies flush to one another. Your need grinding against his own, his pants a barrier that is infuriating. You pull his bottom lip into your mouth just to taste him better and it drives him wild.

He stands abruptly, forcing you to wrap your legs around his waist as he takes long strides to the bed.

“This is going to have to be quick,” he pants softly before kissing you again.

He lands between your legs, on top of you, his hair cascading downward. His pink lips parted as his eyes meet yours.

You are lost in each other once more.

#spencer reid #matthew gray gubler #MGG #criminal minds #Spencer Reid one shots

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basketonthedoorstepofthefbi · 3 hours

Note

Hello!!! I have a request if that’s okay with you. 💕

Would you maybe write a Spencer x quiet!reader? Where she doesn’t have the courage to talk to him because she’s too shy?

I don’t really have a plot in mind so that’s up to you!! I’m sorry I couldn’t come up with any ideas but hopefully it lets you write whatever you want. Thank you for taking the time to read this. And I read your other stories, you’re so underrated and amazing I love your wording when you write. 🥹🫶🏻🫶🏻

Hi Mary!! Thank you so much for your kind words c:

I did my best c: I hope you like it!

Round Table (Spencer Reid x shy!gn!reader)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x shy!gn!reader (if not gn please let me know, but I'm fairly certain it is!)

Word Count: 1538

Warnings: mentions of anxiety, but besides that none?

A/N: this was so fun c: i am really enjoying challenging myself with your guys' requests. hope you enjoy!!

------

You were an incredibly anxious person, which, honestly, was okay. You tried not to let your anxiety hinder your life too much, but like any other human being, sometimes it got in the way. It was frustrating, sure, knowing that a situation would be so much easier if you weren’t so anxious about it, but you reminded yourself often that you weren’t perfect, and neither was anyone else.

Some people were afraid of heights, of the ocean, of needles. Some people had trouble going out into crowds or grew overstimulated in public places.

You? You were painfully shy. There was always an adjustment period to being around new people.

Baristas, the bus driver, pharmacy techs, cashiers at the grocery store - you did just fine. But those were one-time interactions, brief discussions that you could compartmentalize.

They came with a script to follow, with cue cards already queued up in your head as they occurred. You could put on an emotional mask for five minutes while the nurse at the clinic gave you a flu shot. You could smile and speak in your special voice labeled Getting Coffee, an octave higher than you usually spoke, in order to acquire your much-needed beverage. There was a clear goal in mind with each of these dialogues. Sure, you didn’t present as the most confident person in the world, but you always made it through conversations like these without stumbling over your words or being too terribly awkward.

You didn’t succeed as much with deeper connections, with ones that took time to cultivate. You were a guarded person to begin with, with only a handful of people you felt truly close to. Vulnerability had always been difficult for you, but you supposed you were in the majority on that front. It took a while to become comfortable around coworkers, extended family, hell, even your therapist. You had to have time to adjust, to settle in.

A lot of people in your life thought you were just socially awkward or even an agoraphobe, but you didn’t mind being around people. It was the intimacy, the connection, the having to give away little pieces of yourself, that made you anxious. It kept you from participating in conversations most of the time, usually only speaking unless spoken to.

You liked your job as a linguistics and handwriting analyst in the FBI for that very reason. You didn’t have to say much to people unless it was related to a case. With a clear goal in mind, a threat to neutralize, you could turn on that mechanical part of your brain that spouted off facts, information, theories. You didn’t have to tell anyone about your weekend, about your hopes and dreams or your favorite foods.

You were consulting on a case for the Behavioral Analysis Unit - a serial killer who stalked his victims months before their murders, sending handwritten letters and using poetry to taunt them. Your supervisor had asked you to collaborate with the BAU, sending you to the sixth floor on your own.

For the last two days, you’d been working closely with Dr. Spencer Reid - Spencer, he insisted you call him. Just a couple of years older than you, but still very young for his role in the FBI. He was friendly, and very smart, and he rambled on about all kinds of things -

Everything, actually. The Chinese food you’d had for lunch on the first day? He explained the origin of fortune cookies. Did you know their first appearance in the US was in San Francisco in the late 1800s?

Pointing out a Dickinson line in one of the UnSub’s letters? Did you know only ten of Emily Dickinson’s poems were actually published when she was alive and the rest were posthumous?

You often just nodded along and smiled, occasionally throwing in an oh, that’s very interesting to appear as an active listener. And you were an active listener. You did genuinely think he was interesting, and you found his info dumps to be incredibly endearing. But your contributions to the conversation were abysmal in comparison.

Beyond discussing patterns in the UnSub’s letters and what it might mean for each victim, you had no other fascinating information to share. You didn’t do well with small talk, and Spencer didn’t ask you any overtly personal questions.

It wasn’t until close to the end of the second day spent in the conference room of the BAU’s office that Spencer asked you a direct question about yourself.

There were three evidence boards set up, all full of scanned copies of the letters, each one pinned up meticulously by you and Spencer the day before. The large round table in the room had letters stacked out all around it, each one bagged in protective plastic.

Spencer was standing in front of the evidence boards with his arms crossed over his chest, studying the photocopies with his head inclined to the side.

He broke the silence you had been slowly settling into the past two days. “Your supervisor said you had a specialization in poetry?”

You nodded, stepping over to the table and carefully lifting one of the letters up. You liked how he spoke as if you two were in the middle of a conversation, when in fact, it had been totally silent for the past half an hour, save for the soft puttering of the air conditioning vent.

“Studied a lot in undergrad,” you squeaked out, clearing your throat as you held the letter up the fluorescent light above you to examine the stationary.

“What university did you attend?” Spencer asked, and you turned your head to find him inclining his head to the side. He actually wanted to know?

“I went to Bennington College to study poetry,” you said softly, suddenly finding it difficult to focus on the letter in your hand. “But I went to graduate school at Georgetown. Master’s in Linguistics.”

“Really? That’s fascinating,” Spencer commented, which caught you by surprise, especially because he didn’t sound the least bit sarcastic. “That combination of degrees is exceedingly rare. Generally people who major in poetry often either go on to complete as far up as a doctorate in the subject or they stop at a Bachelor’s degree. The latter statistically don’t end up working in a field related to poetry, either, so their degree is basically useless.”

You weren’t sure if you were supposed to be offended by that, so instead you just nodded your head politely. “Okay,” you murmured, biting your lip.

“Can I ask you another question?” Spencer asked, and set the letter in your hand down on the table. You smoothed your hands over the fabric of your shirt and nodded. “Do I… do I make you uncomfortable?”

You shook your head. “No,” you said assuredly, and then, a little more hesitantly, “…why would you ask me that?”

Spencer turned to face you. “You’re just very quiet unless we’re discussing the case. Which is fine, of course, but I just… I don’t know. I thought maybe you were annoyed by me or I said something to offend you.”

You felt guilt spread over you and your cheeks turned pink. The last thing you’d wanted was to make anyone feel bad who didn’t deserve it. And the very kind, helpful, and adorable Dr. Spencer Reid was the furthest from deserving to feel bad.

“I just don’t talk a lot,” you tried to explain. Your hand rubbed the spot where the top of your chest met the skin of your neck, an anxious habit you’d had for years. “I mean, I do with people I know, and that’s not to say I dominate the conversation by any means, but I just…” you realized you were rambling. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” you added, your voice just above a whisper.

“Thank you,” Spencer’s lips flickered into a straight-lined smile, one you had seen several times over the past few days, often when unintentional eye contact was made across the table. “For clarifying, I mean, that I didn’t offend you.” He cleared his throat, and leaned against the round table, standing just a few feet from you. Still a very professional and comfortable distance, but closer than he had been before. “So, does that mean that if we got to know each other, you’d talk more?” The corners of his lips spread out and his smile grew.

You tore your eyes away from his to look at the letter in your hand, the protective plastic around it crinkling between your fingers. You weren’t actually looking at the letter, though. You’d just needed somewhere - anywhere - else to look. “That’s generally how it goes,” you murmured, biting your lip.

“So, if I were to, for example, ask you to meet me for dinner sometime, could the getting to know each other happen there?”

Your eyes fluttered over to Spencer’s and you saw him smiling. You could tell by how he looked at you, with his head inclined just slightly to the side, that he was being fully serious. You nodded, unable to control the small smile on your face.

Spencer grinned, and you could tell he couldn’t resist when he spoke again. “So, is that a yes?”

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