#spencer x retired!reader
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the space between us | S.R.
previously
The adjustment between never being home and always being home seems to take a toll on you.
who? spencer reid x fem!retired!reader
category: flangst
content warnings: the events of stuck between a rock and a hard place apply, briefly mentions a baby, reader trying to cope with a 180-turn in life, anxiety
word count: 2.16k
a/n: i meant for this to be fluff and it's definitely a tad angsty. good thing i'm obsessed with spencer and retired!reader. they'll be back.
Slowly but surely, you convinced yourself that the dark green walls of the apartment were closing in on you. Sitting up in bed, you looked at the time on your phone before quickly scrolling through the notifications, half expecting a text from Andi Swann asking you to come in.
She wouldn’t do that though, because she’s not your Unit Chief anymore, and you no longer work for the FBI.
The only text message you saw that piqued your interest was from your husband, letting you know that he was flying home.
Tossing your blanket off of your legs, you swung your legs over the edge of the bed and stood up. Hissing at the feeling of the cold hardwood floors beneath your bare feet, you wrapped your arms around yourself and made way for the kitchen. Creeping slowly on your way, you made sure to keep your footsteps light.
Gingerly, you flipped the light on, wincing as the fluorescence flooded your vision. As your eyes adjusted, you reached up to the cabinet, grabbed a cup, and set it on the counter.
“You’re sneaking around again,” a voice said from behind you.
Jumping, you put a hand over your chest and spun around, “You scared the shit out of me.” You frowned at Spencer, “I thought you were flying home. I just got your text.”
He nodded, walking into the warm light of the kitchen, “I texted you four hours ago that I was flying home from Connecticut.” His hair was messy, and he had already taken his contacts out, telling you that he had been in the bathroom – he had passed by you while you were sleeping.
Your lips tightened to form a small “o”. Leaning back against the counter, you crossed your arms in front of your chest, “How was Hartford?”
Intently, you watched Spencer as he pushed his glasses up on his nose. “It was fine, the UnSub’s in custody, we’ll build the rest of the case from Quantico.” His tone was strictly no-nonsense when he repeated himself, “You’re sneaking around again.”
Letting your arms fall to your sides, you shrugged helplessly. “I don’t do it consciously, you know?” You told him, reaching behind your back to hoist yourself up so you’re sat on the kitchen counter, legs dangling in the air.
“I know,” he said gently, stepping forward so that he was standing directly in front of you. You parted your knees so that he could stand flush with the counter, allowing for minimal space between the two of you. “The fact that you’re doing it subconsciously makes me wonder if there’s a part of you that feels like you need to be quiet in the apartment,” he murmured, reaching up and tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.
You pursed your lips for a moment, thinking about an answer before you responded, “It’s late, I don’t want to bother anyone by walking too loudly.”
Based on the look in his eyes, you can tell that he doesn’t believe you, “It’s an old building, the floors are thick and well insulated. Also, the apartment below us is vacant, and you know that.” His words are borderline accusatory, and rightfully so. “Do you feel safe here?”
Surprised, your eyes flittered up to meet his, “Yes,” you answered almost instantaneously.
“Do you not feel at home here?” He asked, further pressing his agenda.
When you and Spencer decided to move in together, you were living in a studio apartment, so his place just felt like the obvious choice. At the time, you weren’t home long enough to make it home, and now it seemed like you were past the point of no return. “Can we go to bed?” You asked softly.
Spencer tenderly placed his hands on either side of your waist, “You’re deflecting. What’s so wrong that you don’t feel like you can talk to me, baby?” You should’ve known better than to answer a question with a question.
Averting your eyes, you looked up at the ceiling in hopes that the action would quell the tears that were filling your waterline. “I just feel so out of place,” you answered, emotion closing your throat.
“In the apartment?” He whispered softly.
Taking a deep, shuddering breath, you shook your head. Giving up on your dreams of stopping your tears, you bowed your head and let them fall. “In my life,” you clarified. “I thought it would be easy to just go from being an undercover agent to being at home. Maybe that was a lost cause, but I didn’t think it’d be so hard.”
Never wavering, Spencer stayed resilient with you as the dam broke, letting you lean your head on his shoulder and rubbing soothing circles on your back as you cried. “You’re going through one hell of an adjustment period right now.”
Nodding tearfully, you pressed the heels of your hands into your eyes, “I feel like I haven’t been a real person in almost ten years. I don’t know who I am without that fucking job and it’s mauling me.” Briefly, Spencer stepped away from you, filling the cup that you had gotten out with water and handing it to you. “God, I’m a disaster. I’m so sorry,” you muttered, looking down at the glass of water you’d clasped in both hands.
“You are not a disaster,” he insisted. “You’re going through an unfathomable experience and you’re not giving yourself enough leeway,” he stressed, hooking a finger beneath your chin, and lifting your head.
Everything about him seemed soft, and you felt like pieces of broken glass – flying around and damaging everything in sight. You lifted the glass in your shaky hands, bringing the lip of the cup to your own and downing half of its contents.
Spencer studied your facial expression before he spoke again, “I know exactly who you are. You are the single most selfless person I have ever met,” he told you earnestly. “You spent nine years of your life rescuing tens of thousands of people, giving up holidays and birthdays and time with loved ones for the benefit of total strangers.”
Sniffling, you shook your head, “Spence,”
“No, this is true, and I need you to listen to me,” he urged. “One time, you had gotten back from five weeks undercover and, before catching up on sleep, you went to Henry’s birthday party. Solely because you had missed it the year before.” Hesitating for a moment, he resumed singing your praises, “You’re brilliant and funny and beautiful, but I need you to stop being so magnanimous.”
You pulled back, furrowing your brows in innate confusion, “What?”
He nodded, affirming his point. “I need you to be selfish. Operate with your self-interest in mind. Use that to discover yourself. If you keep throwing pieces of yourself away in order to make the people around you happy, then you’ll never really identify your adult self.”
“I don’t know where to start,” you confessed. You were always working; the FBI was your life. “Everyone is telling me to do different things,” you murmured. Spencer wanted you to be selfish, your mother wanted you to have a baby, and every single one of your friends had offered their stress relief methods – most of them unsolicited.
The understanding in his expression made your chest ache, “I think you should talk to someone. Not me, not Garcia, definitely not your mom, but a professional. You should talk your experiences out with someone who can help you work through it, not just like you do with me. I know you hold back details when it’s with me.”
Uncertain, you tried to wrap your arms around yourself again, but Spencer didn’t let you close yourself off. “Okay,” you ventured, “I’ll look into it.”
Putting his hands up, he smiled softly at you, “That’s all I ask.” He stepped back, allowing you to get off of the counter and stand. Spencer gently ushered you into the living room, sitting down next to you on the couch.
Instinctively, you leaned into his warmth as he draped an arm over your shoulders. “I need a hobby. Something to do other than sit at home all day,” you thought aloud.
“We can look for ideas in the morning,” Spencer offered. “Maybe we can go to the store this weekend for supplies.”
Turning your head to face him, you pressed your lips into a thin white line, “Hey, Spence?”
He hummed, “Yes, love?”
“We could get a house,” you proposed. “It could be a good new start for the both of us, and we have the money,” the more you spoke about it, the more you liked the idea. A new start for the new you. Technically, the two of you were still newlyweds, it felt like something you were supposed to do. “We wouldn’t have to keep your books on the floor anymore,” you murmured, absentmindedly drawing shapes on his t-shirt with your index finger.
Your eyes flickered up to see him smiling. “We absolutely can get a house, and you won’t have to tip-toe,” he said pointedly, “it’ll be our space.”
Mirroring his smile, you adjusted slightly on the couch, “Our house.”
As you tucked your feet underneath yourself, you felt his eyes on you, “Are you sleeping alright?”
Groaning, you wiped a hand down your face, “You worry too much. We were doing so well.”
“Did you know that your coping mechanism is avoidance?” He remarked, a hint of teasing in his voice.
You rolled your eyes, “I sleep fine,” you answered simply. It was true, once you were asleep, you slept perfectly fine until the morning. It was falling asleep that you had a hard time with, lying awake and wondering if when you finally fell asleep you would be greeted by nightmares. Nightmares that you had been waiting weeks for but had yet to come. “Let’s uh… let’s call it a problem for the professional,” you faltered.
He nodded understandingly, “You just let me know if there’s anything you need, okay? Anything at all.”
Allowing your body to meld into his, you hummed, “How are you doing with all of this?”
“I sometimes wake up in the middle of the night, just to make sure you’re still breathing,” he confessed. Adjusting his glasses, he pulled you a little closer to him. “I’ve seen you more in the past six weeks than I had the previous year, and, selfishly, I’m glad that we get more time together.”
With one hand, you reached up and cupped his cheek with your palm, “I am too, love. It’s new, even though we’ve been together for years, I think we’re lucky to have something that feels new.”
He turned his head to press a kiss to the center of your palm before taking your hand in his, “I think I’m lucky to have you.”
“Sweet talker,” you teased lightly.
You nudged him gently when he went quiet. “I love having you be at home when I get home,” he whispered as if it was a secret. “I suppose I never really thought much of it because it always seemed like an unattainable fantasy.”
But now you were home when he came home. He took time off to spend with you right after you had gotten out of the hospital, but for the past six weeks, every time he walked in the door, you were around. It was almost like the two of you had entered your honeymoon phase. Although, you supposed you had, “Did anyone ask you about the party?”
Spencer chuckled, “Of course they did.”
Part of you supposed it was your penance for getting married in secret – mostly secret, everyone always seemed to forget that Rossi was there – that the BAU was insistent on giving the two of you a wedding. “I never knew profilers had such great memories,” you pondered. “No one else asks me about it.”
“They just want to make sure you’re alright before turning it into a celebration,” he explained. “For the BAU, taking a step back is a big deal,” he leaned his head to the side so that his chin was resting on the top of your head, “you know that, though.”
Nodding softly, you shut your eyes, “I don’t suppose they’d be willing to do a combo housewarming and wedding celebration.”
“Not a chance,” Spencer answered almost a bit too quickly.
You sighed in mock defeat, “We’ll just have to have a party a weekend until Garcia runs out of ideas.”
Slowly, you felt yourself falling asleep again, “Do you want to go to bed?” Spencer murmured.
There was just a moment before you hummed, “In a minute.” You pulled on the sleeves of your sweatshirt so they would cover your hands, “Hey, Spence?”
“Hm?” He said, drowsiness growing in his voice.
You tipped your head back and looked up at him, “I love being home when you get home, too.”
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A Well-Kept Secret
Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader
Synopsis: While working on a case in D.C., Spencer didn't expect to hear a familiar name being mentioned as the sole surviving witness. Or, in which the team discovers Spencer's well-kept secret.
Warning(s): established secret relationship, mentions and/or depictions of death/physical violence/gun violence/injury/attack, signs of trauma, survivor's guilt, curse words, hurt/comfort, nudity but it's not sexual, allusions to sexy times, mentions/implied alcohol consumption
Word Count: 5900-ish
Author's Note: hiya! I decided to write this lil piece after seeing the fic challenge posted by @imagining-in-the-margins abt the family/found family trope. I had a lotta fun writing this one and I think it's got potential to be something more. So pls comment or message me if you wanna see me exploring with this idea (either turning it into a series of connected one-shots or multi-parters). Don't forget to like/comment/reblog and give me a follow :) I hope you enjoy! 💞
Criminal Minds Masterlist
When Hotch had notified the team to haul their asses up and drove all the way to D.C., Spencer never expected that it would also entail him having to suffer through a mini heart attack.
The series of attacks around D.C. had been dominating the 6 PM news segments in the entire country. What was initially perceived as a suspected sequence of robberies gone wrong--since the first two targets to have been hit were a bank and a prestigious auction house--soon turned into a nationwide panic as people realized that there was a bigger game at play.
After the third attack was found to have occurred in the headquarters of one of the top, up-and-coming renewable energy startups in the states, the D.C. police finally started to entertain the idea that perhaps they hadn't been dealing with their usual petty robbers at all.
And naturally, that was when the BAU had been called in.
As soon as the team entered the Metropolitan PD bullpen, they were struck with the smell of panic and the sight of chaos.
"Agent Hotchner?" A middle-aged man in a gray shirt and blue tie appeared in front of them. "My name is Detective Mills, we spoke on the phone."
"Of course, Detective." Hotch shook the other man's hand. "This is my team. Agent Prentiss, Jareau, and Dr. Reid. I have two others already at the latest crime scene. What can you tell us so far?"
"As you can see--" Detective Mills gestured towards the frenzied scene behind him, "--the entire D.C. area is going haywire after news broke out about yesterday's attack. The public is demanding the city to be put on lockdown, and I'm getting pressure from above as well. We received information that nearly half the city has called in sick today."
"A classic response to mass paranoia," Spencer noted.
"Well, paranoia or not, I just want to start getting some answers." Detective Mills began to lead the team further into the bullpen. "I have every pair of hands I could spare in this. If they aren't out there chasing leads, they're here interviewing the victims, friends, and families."
"Any luck so far?" Emily asked.
"Nothing more than what you've probably seen in the files."
Detective Mills pushed open the door to an office in the corner, away from the havoc in the center of the station.
"Lieutenant Jeffreys retired a couple of weeks ago. The lucky bastard." Detective Mills scoffed jokingly. "It's the most decent space I can spare at the moment. Think you'll be fine in here?"
"It's more than enough, Detective. Thank you," Hotch replied.
"What about the witnesses from yesterday's attack? Have you had the chance to interview them?" JJ asked as the rest of the team started setting up.
"Some of my men are with them right now. But I doubt they'll have anything useful. Just like the other two cases, the attack happened while most of the office was out. The rest left behind were DOA at the latest scene."
"They're rapidly devolving," Spencer pondered out loud as he skimmed over the case files. "They went from killing a non-compliant security guard during the first attack to executing almost every witness in the last one."
JJ raised an eyebrow. "Almost?"
"It says here there is one survivor." Spencer showed the word he had underlined in the case overview to JJ.
"Yes, there is," Detective Mills confirmed. "I had one of my men talk to her. There's not much she could give us. Thing is, she wasn't even supposed to be there."
"What do you mean?" Emily asked.
"She didn't work in that office. She was a consultant who just happened to be visiting. Poor girl's pretty shaken up. She hid in a supply closet the entire time. She was the one who found the bodies and called 911."
"So, the perpetrators never checked the rooms while they were holding the victims hostage?" Hotch questioned.
"Not according to her statement, no. See, I thought it weird myself. Do you have any idea why?"
"Not sure." Hotch hummed, deep in thought. "Perhaps our UnSubs didn't think to check because they didn't know someone was in there. Detective, you said all of the victims were the only employees of the company who didn't attend the event downtown, correct?"
"Yeah, they were the only ones who weren't listed as attendees. Why? Do you think those people were specifically targeted?"
"Unfortunately, we can't rule out anything yet this early in the investigation," Hotch said. "We need to talk to the witnesses to know more. JJ?"
"On it." JJ nodded. "What can you tell us about yesterday's sole survivor, Detective?"
"Not much. I didn't interview her personally, one of my men did. She works at a consulting engineering firm in town," Detective Mills replied. "I believe her name is... what is it called?"
When Detective Mills mentioned the name, Spencer's heart instantly crashed inside of its cage.
"What?" His hand had stopped scribbling on the board. In a matter of miliseconds, Spencer had crossed the room towards the doorway where Detective Mills was standing. "What did you say her name was?"
Dumbfounded, the detective stared at a dread-stricken Spencer before spelling out the name once more.
"Why? What's wrong?" Detective Mills asked in confusion.
JJ touched Spencer's shoulder. "Hey, you okay?"
But Spencer, either too alarmed or merely choosing not to acknowledge both questions, asked instead, "Where is she? I need to see her."
"In the waiting room by the pantry--"
Spencer didn't even wait for Detective Mills to form his complete thought before dashing out. JJ exchanged a glance with Emily following Spencer's sudden exit, perplexed by his odd turn of behavior.
"I'll go get him," JJ announced before leaving the room, chasing after a flurry of wavy hair and a wool-knitted purple vest sprinting across the bullpen.
The roaring commotion inside the station was almost loud enough to rival the intensity of your racing thoughts.
Almost.
At this point, you didn't think there was anything you could do anymore. The vivid images from yesterday's attack were playing continuously in your head. There was nothing you could do to stop them.
Rubbing your eyes from exhaustion, you mourned the loss of sleep that you failed to get the previous night. As if the waking nightmares weren't torment enough, the images had somehow translated even more cruelly into your subconscious. You could barely close your eyes for three seconds without feeling like you had been brought back to that place.
Cold, cramped, and alone. Fearing for your life in the tiny supply closet that smelled more like death than bleach.
At the sound of the door opening, you quickly turned around in your seat to hide your face away from prying eyes. The last thing you needed at that moment was having a complete stranger seeing you fall apart in the middle of a police station.
But when the voice came carrying the sound of your name, it wasn't the voice of a complete stranger you had heard. It was a voice you knew more than you probably knew your own. A voice you loved and a voice you had longed to hear for the past gruesome twenty-four hours.
"Spencer?" You turned back towards the door, seeing the face you adored most in the whole world staring back at you.
"Sweetheart."
At the speed of a lightning, Spencer dropped to his knees in front of you and gathered your broken little pieces into his arms.
Spencer's touch was everywhere. Your hair, your neck, your shoulders. As if he was checking whether you were real. That you were actually there inside his arms, and you were not a simple imagination that his mind had conjured up.
Surrounded by the safety of his embrace, you could feel the shattered pieces of yourself beginning to mend once more.
"Spencer," you uttered his name again as you pulled away, still in disbelief that he was physically there with you.
"I'm here," he promised you as he cupped your face gently.
"Spencer, what are you... How..."
"My team is working your case. We arrived half an hour ago," he explained simply. "Sunshine, why didn't you tell me? I thought you were still in Alaska?"
You had previously apprised Spencer that you would be hard to reach during your trip since you would be spending most of your time at the power plant site where cellphone receptions were scarce. So when an entire day went by without him ever hearing from you, Spencer didn't have any reason to be worried.
Never in a million years would he have ever predicted that you'd be caught in the middle of a hostage situation.
That thought alone caused Spencer to squeeze your hand a little tighter than usual.
"I'm sorry, Spence," you said sincerely. "My trip ended earlier than planned. I arrived back yesterday morning. I actually wanted to surprise you last night. After yesterday's... incident, I wanted to call you, but my phone was shot--"
"Wait, what? You were shot?"
"No! No, baby. Not me. Just my phone," you assured him. "But that's why I couldn't call. I did attempt you once using this station's phone, but it went straight to voicemail."
At the new piece of information, the colors immediately drained from Spencer's face.
"That was you? Fuck. I didn't--I didn't know. I rejected the call because I didn't know it was you."
"Hey." You stopped his guilty rambling with a hand to his cheek. "It's okay. I'm okay. I'm just glad you're here."
And then, because Spencer needed to make sure that you really were okay, he pulled you back into his arms and held you even tighter this time.
"Uh, Spence?"
The sound in the doorway snapped you both out of your mutual reverie. You looked up to see a blonde woman there, staring in an equal mixture of shock and confusion at the sight in front of her.
Spencer begrudgingly untangled himself from your arms before getting up to approach her.
"JJ, do you mind if I do the cognitive for this one?" Spencer asked.
The woman--JJ-- shifted her eyes a few times between you and Spencer. "Um, of course. I'll just go and inform Hotch. Tell us if you need anything."
After JJ's departure, Spencer closed the door again to award you both a much needed privacy.
He grabbed a wooden chair from the corner and dragged it before sitting down right in front of you.
"I need to start the interview now, sweetheart. Think you're up for it?"
Your whole body went rigid for a matter of seconds before you forced it to restart again. It was gone as soon as it came, but Spencer noticed it just the same.
"Look at me," Spencer ordered softly, using his delicate finger to nudge your face up until he was looking straight into your eyes. "I know it's scary. I don't want you to have to relive yesterday either, but it will help us catch whoever did this."
"I've told the police everything I knew yesterday. I was hiding the entire time." Like a coward. "I didn't see anything. I don't have anything else that could help you."
"I know that, sunshine. But as I've told you before, our method is slightly different. We won't be just focusing on what you saw, but also what you smelled, or maybe even heard." Spencer took your hands then, squeezing affectionately. "I'll be here with you the entire time."
The nod you gave him was hesitant, but it was a start nonetheless. You listened intently to Spencer's words and closed your eyes just as he had instructed.
"We'll start at the beginning," you heard him say. "Why don't you tell me why you went there yesterday?"
"I, uh, received a call from my friend, Nick, after my plane landed. We had been communicating back and forth since his company seeked my consultation for one of their upcoming projects," you began. "I wasn't even supposed to work because I had requested the day off. But Nick said it didn't have to be a formal meeting, so I agreed to meet him."
"Tell me what you remember after arriving at the office."
Your mind traveled back to that specific time one day prior. You remembered walking into the place and seeing its unusual state of vacancy even though there was still a good half an hour left before lunchtime.
"I just assumed everyone had gone to lunch earlier and shrugged it off," you recalled.
Spencer nodded his head. "Did anything else strike you as out of the ordinary?"
"No? I don't... I don't know. It was only my second time being there, I'm not sure what was normal and what wasn't."
"Okay. That's okay. You're doing good so far, sweetheart," Spencer quickly interjected, trying to get you to calm down before your distress could turn into a full-blown panic. "Now, what did you do next?"
"I followed Nick into his office."
Nick was keeping his promise true. It hadn't felt like a formal meeting, just two old college buddies reminiscing about the past and discussing possibilities of the future that, of course, included the company's upcoming project which you would be working on with him.
"I excused myself to the bathroom at some point," you added. "When I first heard the commotion, I thought nothing of it. It's like the idea that a group full of armed men had taken over the building didn't even cross my mind. I mean, why would it? I was on my way back to Nick's office when I saw them."
You recalled turning a corner after exiting the bathroom only to see those figures carrying machine guns and shouting at everyone to get on their knees or put their hands above their heads. You remembered sprinting the way you had come from and opening the first door you could reach that just happened to be the supply closet.
"Let's go back to the moment you saw them," Spencer urged gently. "How many people were there? Do you remember any conspicuous detail? Maybe one of them had tattoos or spoke with an accent. Anything that distinguished them."
Taking a deep breath, you tried replaying those crucial seconds slowly in your head.
"There were four of them. I couldn't see much. They were all wearing identical black clothes."
Suddenly, an unexpected piece of memory rushed to the front of your mind. You opened your eyes in shock, meeting Spencer's curious gaze that had been kept intently on you the entire time.
"I think at least one of them is a woman," you told him.
Spencer's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Are you sure?"
"One of the guys said something about... fucking this place up. And then she laughed. I heard her. It was definitely a female laugh."
"Good. That's good."
"Yeah? Do you think it'll help?"
Spencer nodded assuredly, bringing his hand to leave calming strokes on your head. "I know it will. You've done a great job, sweetheart. I'm proud of you."
The praise Spencer gave eased the tension in your shoulders. As if having been granted fresh air after decades of confinement, you were finally able to let yourself breathe again.
Spencer continued his loving strokes on your head. Little by little, the weight of his touch melted the resolve you had built into a pathetic puddle on the floor. Without its mental shield protecting you, your tears sped forward, gathering in your eyes until they spilled on the vast path down your cheeks.
"Hey, hey." Spencer's voice was laden with panic after seeing you start to cry. "Sunshine, what is it? What's wrong? Talk to me."
"I-I just... God." You struggled to get the words out in between sobs. "I'm a coward, Spencer."
"What?"
"All of those people... They died because I was a fucking coward."
Your admission tore into the air before stabbing Spencer right through his chest.
"Sweetheart, you know that's not true."
"But it is!" you cried out, pulling away from Spencer's grounding hold around your shaking body in favor of your own arms. "I was a coward. I ran and hid because I was too scared to die. Too scared to fight. If I had just tried a little harder, I could've called for help. That way, maybe all of those people wouldn't... And Nick wouldn't..."
A haunting image flashed behind your eyes. The image of Nick's limp and lifeless body on the floor, among those of the others. You remembered crying next to him, punching his chest, body, and arm despite having seen the gunshot wound on his forehead. It took you another five minutes before you eventually managed to gather yourself together, found a phone, and dialed 911.
Not that it made any difference. They were all already dead.
Spencer could hear his heart breaking at the sight of you curling into yourself, recoiling from his touch because you somehow believed you didn't deserve his affection at that moment. If Spencer could just transfer all of your pain towards him, he would. Seeing you beat yourself up that way over something that happened and was done to you was the worst kind of torture he ever had to endure in life.
And Spencer had been through more kinds of torture than the general population in the world.
Deciding that he had seen enough of your self-deprecating torment, he reclaimed your hands inside of his palms and urged you to look at him.
"Are you hearing yourself right now?" Spencer asked incredulously. "How can you even think that way? Sweetheart, what happened to those people, to Nick, it is not your fault."
"B-but, if I hadn't run away--"
"Then you would've died, too," he cut you off. "Sunshine, there were four of them with machine guns. No one stood a single chance against them. Those people were there to kill. There was nothing you could've done."
It was a hard pill to swallow, but Spencer needed you to hear it.
He needed you to know the truth no matter how unacceptable it was.
"If you hadn't hid from them, we would've found seven bodies there instead of six. And I--" Spencer took a shuddering breath, "--I would've lost you."
Your shoulders deflated at his revelation. "Spence--"
"So please--" he searched your eyes then, using his thumb to sweep away the remaining tears under your eyes, "--stop holding yourself accountable. I promise I will do everything I can to find those people and make them pay for what they did."
Spencer's vow triggered a new wave of tears that compelled you to sink into his awaiting arms. He let you stay there until you had cried your tears dry. It was something he also secretly needed for himself after suffering through the short-lived horror over the mention of your name in relation to the heinous case. He just needed to make sure that you were okay.
A few minutes passed by with you in his arms. Eventually, Spencer had to tear himself away to finish his job. He asked you to wait as he wrapped up the transcript of your cognitive interview, along with his professional report over it.
"I need to run somewhere real quick. I promise to be back in a couple of hours," he notified JJ as he handed her the interview report. "Tell Hotch for me? Thanks."
Without waiting for his friend's reply, Spencer rushed back to the waiting room before leading you out to take you home.
Back at your apartment, Spencer guided you towards the direction of your bathroom as soon as you had stepped into the threshold.
"Are you trying to get me naked, Spencer?" you remarked playfully after he refused to let you take your clothes off yourself.
"Yes." The gleaming mischief in your eyes caused him to flick your nose lightly. "Just to get you ready for your bath. Get your head straight, will you?"
You scoffed at his back as he turned around to check the water temperature in the tub.
Once you were submerged safely inside, Spencer left the bathroom to give you some privacy. Meanwhile, he began rummaging through your drawers to pull out a change of clothes, a towel, and a clean sheet for your bed.
By the time you exited, Spencer had changed your bedsheets and lit one of your favorite candles on the bedside table. He asked you to sit down on the bed as he kneeled before you, helping you put on the pajamas he had picked out with little prints of sunflowers on them.
None of Spencer's touches were sexual. They swept over your skin with the care of an artist handling their most precious work. When his eyes found yours, you swore you could almost cry from the intense adoration that seemed to shine so brightly out of them.
As he guided you to lie on the bed, you were surprised to see him following suit. He got under the covers with you, pulling you close to tangle every inch of your limbs with his.
"I love you, Spencer," you admitted to his chest, heart heavy with the deep appreciation and overwhelming affection for the man beside you.
Spencer looked down at your confession, finding his favorite pair of eyes already looking earnestly at him. Instinctively, he reached for your chin with his fingers, tugging your face upward until he could capture your lips with his.
The kiss was slow. Careful. Filled with silent promises and discreet reassurances. When you both parted, Spencer didn't pull himself away. Instead, he let his forehead touch yours while his eyes stayed closed.
"Will you be here when I wake up?" you asked quietly.
"Yes, sweetheart. Now go to sleep."
Although the two of you knew his answer was a lie, you both chose to pretend otherwise. You knew Spencer still had responsibilities to fulfill, along with a promise to you that he intended to keep. You knew that when you woke up later that evening, Spencer would already be long gone, and you would be forced to bask in the traces of himself that he had left behind.
But for now, Spencer was still there, in the comfort of your bedroom, lying on the bed next to you. And that knowledge alone was good enough for you to finally drift further into the land of sleep, surrounded by the warmth of Spencer's loving embrace.
"I'm telling you," JJ insisted, looking at her entire team minus Spencer and Hotch. "There was definitely something going on between them. Why else would he request to take over the cognitive for me?"
"Maybe he was feeling generous," Rossi deadpanned, earning an unimpressed glare from JJ.
It had been a full week since the BAU team had arrived in D.C. to investigate the series of gun attacks in the city. Just the day prior, they had successfully made their fourth arrest, bringing this case to yet another satisfying conclusion in the eye of justice.
If nothing else was amiss, they should have been on their way back to Quantico in less than an hour. In the meantime, though, JJ felt obliged to gather her team members in the middle of the bullpen to share her suspicion about a certain scene she had accidentally caught on their first day working the case.
"Pretty boy did seem more emotionally involved in this case than he usually does, though," Derek pointed out.
"Right? Right?" JJ replied almost too enthusiastically. "Come on, aren't you guys at least half as curious as I am about who this mystery girl might be? Don't you wanna try finding out who she is while we're still here?"
They all stared at each other in hesitation.
"Or, we could just ask Spencer directly and let him explain?" Emily suggested, receiving incredulous looks from the other three in response. "Yeah, you're right. What did you say her name was again?"
"I don't remember," JJ answered.
"It must be listed in the files somewhere, right?" Derek immediately sprung into action, reaching towards the scattered case files that might contain the name they were looking for.
"Just to be clear, I am not taking any part in this." Rossi sighed.
"Got it!" Derek waved the offending file in hand, giving it to JJ, who instantly began skimming over it.
"Alright. Says here that her name is..."
JJ read the name aloud when unexpectedly, an answering sound sprouted from behind them.
"Yes?"
Every single one of them turned in shock at your voice. You smiled at their wide-eyed expressions, waving your hand a little awkwardly in the air.
"You!" JJ exclaimed.
"Me?"
Emily nudged JJ in the ribs, making the blonde woman wince.
"Y-you're the witness from the startup case, right?" JJ said, trying to rectify the situation.
"That's me."
"What can we do for you, Miss?" Rossi asked, stepping forward and away from the rest of the group.
"I'm actually looking for Spencer. Do you know where he might be?"
"Spencer Reid? You know Reid?" Emily asked.
Before you had the chance to reply, the man in question came strolling into the bullpen, rambling animatedly to Hotch who was walking beside him. The moment Spencer caught sight of you, though, he immediately abandoned Hotch's side and rushed towards where you were standing.
"Hey, what are you doing here?"
"Looking for you, of course," you told him, fitting yourself easily into Spencer's side as his arm went around your waist. "Hi, Hotch."
The older man called your name in greeting. "I got your message. You wanted to talk to me?"
"I wanted to ask you--well, all of you, actually--" you glanced around at the other team members, "--if maybe you all would let me treat you to lunch? As a thank you for your hard work on the case."
Hotch nodded in response. "It's fine with me. We don't have to be back until tonight, anyway. Everyone?"
Instead of replying to your offer, Emily voiced aloud the question that was circling everyone's mind.
"You know her?" Emily looked at Hotch before dragging her eyes away towards you. "And you know him? You know each other? How?"
You gazed up at Spencer's eyes, seeing them shining with the same mirth as the one you felt dancing in your stomach.
"I guess this is supposed to be the part where I introduce myself, isn't it?" You chuckled.
Extending your palm, you shook each of their hands while telling them your name, them responding back with theirs even though you already knew who was who long before you had even met them.
"I still don't understand," JJ admitted after you finished shaking her hand. "How did you know Spencer and Hotch?"
Once again, you looked into Spencer's eyes, a question bouncing around in yours. Spencer's nod of affirmation was the only go-ahead you needed.
It's time.
"I'm Spencer's girlfriend."
"She's my wife."
You turned your head towards Spencer in shock.
In front of you, Spencer's teammates were causing an uproar.
"Wait, what?" Emily stared dumbfoundedly.
"You have a girlfriend?" Derek asked in disbelief.
"You're married?!" JJ shrieked.
"Hold on a second," Rossi interjected, holding his palms out as if to tell everyone to stand down and calm themselves. "So which one is it? Girlfriend or wife?"
And that was how you found yourself sitting in the private VIP room of your favorite restaurant in the city with some of Spencer's closest people on earth.
"That's the craziest story I've ever heard," Emily pondered in astonishment.
Rossi, Derek, and JJ were all wearing an identical look on each of their faces after hearing the story of how you and Spencer met: by drunkenly getting married in Vegas after only knowing each other for barely one night when you both weren't even twenty-two yet.
"If someone were to tell me yesterday that there's another member of this team who also went to get married while drunk in Vegas, I would have never even thought of mentioning Spencer's name," JJ mused.
At your curious expression, Spencer explained, "Rossi also got drunkenly married in Vegas to his third ex-wife,"
"Why didn't you two get a divorce?" Emily suddenly asked.
It was something that everyone who knew about your situation with Spencer had questioned at one point or another. The real answer was because you and Spencer had both been reluctant to go through the nasty and lengthy legal process of getting a divorce. Therefore, you decided to part ways without doing anything about it, vowing to only track each other down if one of you ever needed to end the bond because of another impending marriage or any other urgent matter.
But that reason alone was usually not enough to appease people's curiosity. And over the years, you and Spencer had poked fun over that particular fact by coming up with the most outrageous lie you could muster up.
"She wanted to get a divorce," Spencer fabricated smoothly. "I persuaded her otherwise because I had this inkling that someday we were gonna fall in love."
Usually, any other people would coo sweetly at Spencer's statememt.
But these weren't any other people. These people were Spencer's family in more ways except flesh and blood, and even without their profiling skills, you knew they could see right through Spencer's little deception.
"That sounds like bullshit to me. Doesn't that sound like bullshit to you?" Emily asked, turning to JJ for support.
"Yeah, that was bullshit, alright," JJ claimed vehemently, prompting an innocent-looking grin from Spencer and a series of chuckles from everyone else.
"When did you two start dating, then?" Rossi spoke up from one end of the table.
"About two years after Vegas, right?" you estimated, to which Spencer nodded in confirmation. "He strolled into my place of work while he was on a case, and then he asked me out."
Derek sat up on his seat after hearing the new information. "Wait, when was this? Why didn't I know about this?"
"The beginning of my second year in the BAU," Spencer offered. "Elle knew."
"Elle? Elle Greenway? You told Elle but not me?" Derek looked offended.
Spender shrugged nonchalantly. "Elle was assigned with me that day."
"Unbelievable." Derek slumped back down in his chair. "Penelope is gonna freak when she finds out what she missed today."
"Penelope? Oh, she already knows," you told him.
That revelation earned a collective disbelief look across the entire table.
"Yeah... I, uh," you cleared your throat, "I actually just went shopping with her two weeks ago."
"You've got to be kidding me," Emily muttered.
"You told Penelope but not me?" Derek sounded hurt as he pointed his accusatory stare at Spencer. "You even told Hotch!"
"I didn't tell Garcia. She dug through my history and found it out herself. Had to bribe her with candies and chocolates for a whole month to keep her quiet," Spencer grumbled. "And I had to tell Hotch. We needed to add her number to my emergency contact list."
Despite Spencer's concise explanation, Derek still seemed unsatisfied by the whole ordeal.
"How long have you known?" he finally decided to ask Hotch.
"A while," the man answered from his seat at the opposite end of the table from Rossi. "They even babysat Jack a few times for me."
"I don't believe this," Derek scowled. "Pretty boy's got himself a girl for the last six years, and I never knew? Outrageous."
"Technically, we've been married even longer than that," Spencer responded, as if he was unaware of the imminent glower that Derek was sending his way. "Eight years since Vegas."
"That's longer than any of my marriage," Rossi remarked before sipping his drink.
The laugh that resonated upon Rossi's little comment elicited an affectionate smile on your lips.
"So, you live in D.C., then?" JJ asked, at last stirring the conversation away from the topic of your and Spencer's secret marriage-slash-relationship.
"I do, yeah. But most of the time, I live out of my suitcase," you answered. "My firm has clients all over the country. A few overseas, as well. I'm lucky if I even get to have an entire week to sleep uninterrupted in my own bed."
Even then, you truthfully quite enjoyed the work you had to do. You didn't mind having to travel some place new every other week. In fact, you somehow believed that your constant need to travel for your job, and Spencer for his, was one of the reasons why the two of you worked so well together.
Although people might think that two adults who had to travel for a living were a recipe for a disastrous relationship, you and Spencer had so far proven otherwise. Because of your respective schedules, you could sympathize more with the other anytime they had to go somewhere urgent for work. It only made you savor every single second you spent together because of how much precious each one of them became.
The rest of lunch unraveled with the same bucket of smiles, jokes, and laughter. It felt good to finally tell the few people who meant the world in Spencer's life the truth about your relationship. It was also a huge relief to see them opening their arms and welcoming you into the family without an ounce of hesitation.
"Hotch?" Spencer called out after everyone exited the restaurant. "Will it be okay if I stay in the city for one more night?"
"As long as you promise to be back for tomorrow's briefing," Hotch reminded sternly, but the meaningful look he passed over you before he entered his vehicle spoke of a thousand things left unsaid.
"It was so nice meeting you," JJ said as she took you in her arms. "And I'm sorry again about your friend."
"Thank you. And thanks for all of your hard work in catching those guys."
"Of course, it's what we do." JJ smiled as she pulled away. "Invite me and Emily the next time you and Penelope hang out, okay?"
"Will do," you promised.
You watched as every single one of them scrambled into the two black SUVs, waving your goodbye until the cars drove out of your sight.
"I think that went well," you commented before looking up at Spencer. "Do you?"
"I think it went as well as it could."
"So--" you began, circling your arms around Spencer's neck, "--we have more than twelve hours until you're expected back at Quantico. What do you wanna do?"
Spencer nudged your nose with his. "I can think of a few activities we can partake in."
"Really?"
"Really."
Just as he was a hairbreadth away from pressing his lips to yours, you suddenly tore yourself out of Spencer's arms.
"Like getting some frozen yogurts?" you asked giddily, smirking at the dumbfounded look that you managed to put on Spencer's face.
"Fine. Let's go get some frozen yogurts."
Spencer had to hide his amused grin at your elated squeals. He was more than content at that moment to let you produce those addictive sounds at the mere prospect of frozen yogurts.
But later that night, he had a whole different set of activities lined up to pull those same sounds out of you once more.
And it might or might not potentially involve an entirely different yet creative use of frozen yogurts as well.
Spencer simply just hadn't decided yet.
#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid self insert#spencer reid smut#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid angst#spencer reid series#spencer reid one shot#spencer reid fic#spencer reid fanfiction#criminam minds#criminal minds fandom#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds x you#criminal minds x y/n#criminal minds self insert#criminal minds smut#criminal minds fluff#criminal minds angst#criminal minds series#criminal minds oneshot#criminal minds fic#criminal minds fanfiction#matthew gray gubler#mentioningmargins
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The Receptionist - S.R
a/n: i need this man on an astronomical level actually
‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧
pairings: spencer reid x receptionist!bimbo!reader
summary: spencer meets the new receptionist for chief cruz
warnings: fluff
wc: 0.8k
The click-clack of your polished nails on the keys mingled with the sharp pops of bubblegum as you focused on lining up Chief Cruz's appointments in the system. Taking a pause, you pulled out your notebook encased in pink frills from your drawer, and delicately turned its pages to reveal the week's agenda.
With the appointment freshly noted, you let your pen waltz around the margins, leaving behind a trail of doodles. With a subtle shift, you crossed your legs, the shiny pink heels tapping together, their color complementing the delicate fabric of your skirt.
You traced another heart around the date, and just then, a soft voice hesitantly broke the silence, "Excuse me?"
You looked up to find a pair of curious hazel eyes framed by brown curls that almost seemed to be begging to be touched, and his lips, which held a shy smile made your heart do a summersault. I mean, come on, what are these FBI guys made lab-grown or something?
He was draped in a form-fitting vets over a neatly pressed shirt, his sleeves were rolled up just so, in a way that paused your movements freeze and coaxed a heat to spread across your cheeks. Well, hello there.
He seemed briefly caught off-guard, his eyes flickering over your pink-themed workspace, a distinct departure from the former receptionist's subdued setup. He was almost overwhelmed by the sheer amount of things that now occupied the space.
With an enthusiastic bounce, you popped up from your seat, beaming brightly.
"Oh, hi there! How can I help you?" Gently straightening your skirt, you offered a hand, your name rolling off your tongue, "Are you here for Chief Cruz?"
The man's touch was soft against your palm, his attention caught by the soft clinking of your delicate bracelets, while your nails, painted a meticulous shade of pink that matched the color of your shirt, settled against the back of his hand.
"Spencer Reid," he introduced. "I have an appointment with Chief Cruz regarding a specialized training session for new recruits."
His gaze held yours a tad too long, cataloging the details of your appearance--the brightness of your eyes, the soft curve of your lips, the radiant glow of your skin.
A look of pleasant surprise crossed your face.
"You're the famous Dr. Reid! I've heard a lot about you," you remarked, a giggle accompanying your words as you eased back into your seat, giving a quick, knowing glance at your calendar. "Ah, here you are. I'll let Chief Cruz know you're here. He's currently in a meeting, but it shouldn't be too much longer."
As you pretended to focus on the screen, your mind raced. Dr. Reid--the genius with multiple PhDs, and now, the man who stood before you, unexpectedly drop-dead handsome.
It was a challenge to maintain professionalism, especially when every fiber of your being yearned to do nothing but drink in his appearance. I mean, you were only human.
"Just Spencer is fine," he offered with an easy smile. "Where's Mrs. Henderson?"
You were beautiful to say the least, not at all what he was expecting to see when he walked in this morning, quite the difference from the former receptionist, whose age had been marked by the hard candies she offered.
"Oh, she retired last month!" you said with a bright smile. "So now, Chief Cruz is stuck with me!" Leaning in, chin cradled by your hands, you gaze at him incredulously. "Three PhDs, huh? That's, like, beyond Einstein-level smarts, isn't it?"
Spencer's cheeks tinged with a hint of color as he reached up to scratch the back of his neck.
"Well, not quite," he admitted with a modest shrug. He then glanced around the office before his eyes settled back on you. "How are you finding the job here so far?"
"Impressive, yet so modest," you commented. Standing up, you clicked print on the computer. "And it's great, I really love it here. I mean, it's not as thrilling as chasing down bad guys, I'm sure, but I think I'll stick to what I'm good at."
As you made your way to the printer, Spencer interjected. "No, I got it."
He returned with the papers, handing them to you with a gentle smile.
"Thanks," you said, taking the papers. "So, you do that profiling thing right?" You tapped a finger against your lips, pretending to ponder. "Let's see... I'm guessing you're a Libra, aren't you? Probably born in early October, I'd say."
"What gave it away?"
You flashed a wink, the pop of your bubblegum punctuating the air. "I may have taken a sneak peek at your file."
With a light-hearted laugh, Spencer revealed a smile so grand it seemed to light up the entire space and you couldn't help but smile in response. You liked his smile, a lot.
Spencer's response was cut short by the ring of the phone. You quickly answered as the great receptionist you are.
"Okie dokie, sir, I'll send him right back!" You listened for a second, then replied with a giggle. "No, thank you, sir!" You turned to Spencer, your smile wide, "He's ready for you!"
"Thanks," Spencer said with a nod, "It was great to meet you." He took a few steps towards Chief Cruz's office before pausing and turning back. "You know, maybe I should give you my number. For work purposes, in case you have questions or need help with anything."
You nodded eagerly, your smile reaching from ear to ear. "Absolutely, for work purposes."
#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid#criminal minds#criminal minds x reader#Spotify
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Hi!! I have a request for a Spencer Reid x fem reader!!
Can you do something like reader also works at the BAU and they both are in love with each other but have never said anything, and Spencer goes on a date or flirts with a girl when the team is out at a bar or something and reader gets sad and jealous. She like leaves cause she’s annoyed and angry. And Spencer is confused why she’s upset? And eventually confronts her and this leads to feelings being revealed and it ends in cute fluff??
Hey hun, hope you're having a great time! I am a sucker for friends-to-lovers and jealous friends motifs. Thanks for the request. I wrote something, I hope you like it, I wrote it last night cause I couldn't sleep.
The Secret Game and the shy Girl | Spencer reid x fem!Reader
Word: 1.6 k
Warning: Typical cm topics. Nothing gore
Caliope's Bar was bustling. It was surprisingly calm for a bar; usually, it was packed, but people calmly occupied the tables, enjoying dinner with a couple of beers or fancier drinks. The karaoke didn't start until around 10, and the dance floor opened at midnight. Spencer didn't stay until that late hour; he usually left with you when you stepped down from the small stage, carefully placing your electroacoustic guitar on its stand.
In Quantico, it was no secret that you loved music. While your father was a retired cop, your mother had been a talented backup singer in Las Vegas before becoming a nurse. They inevitably passed on their interests to you, ensuring you couldn't escape the excitement whenever you had the chance to sing and let others listen. Although the fact that you sang at that bar had been a secret for a while.
Today was a special day, not just because it was the day of the week you came here and had the courage to play the guitar and sing a couple of songs for half an hour, but also because it was the celebration of your adoption. When you first arrived at the BAU, you were so shy that you could barely speak more than two words. You usually approached Hotchner and whispered your thoughts on each case, avoiding verbalizing them in front of the entire team. After a while, you recognized that Hotch had shown you a lot of patience, as had the rest of your colleagues and friends. The truth was that Hotch had identified in you resilience, talent, and a strong sense of ethics; he just needed you to believe you could do more than the office work you were used to in your previous job in the cybercrime department. That's why he asked Spencer to help you; both had a lot in common, being young and somewhat socially awkward, but Spencer had been in Quantico much longer, and Hotchner knew he could help you break out of your shell. To be honest, Spencer would have helped you even if Hotchner hadn't asked; he had observed how challenging it was for you to adapt to the team and the enormous effort it took for you to go out into the field and chase psychopaths. As their friendship grew, so did Spencer's admiration for you, discovering new facets of your personality that you struggled to reveal. It took a year for Spencer to learn about your adoption, and another year for the team to find out and want to be part of that celebration. By the third and fourth years in the BAU, that tradition had become much more organic and easier for you, someone whose sociometer didn't allow too many social commitments.
There was a night in your first year as a BAU member when Spencer followed you out of childlike curiosity from the offices to Caliope's bar. He didn't expect to find you singing a song by The Carpenters under a dim spotlight, but there you were. After your performance, with flushed cheeks and trembling like jelly, you introduced Caliope, the owner of the place and your best friend, and made him swear to keep the secret. Spencer respected that; every time you decided to open up to the team, it was on your own terms, and Spencer knew you would be comfortable when the time came to share those little details in your life that made you special.
Both remembered that conversation after you stepped down from the stage that night.
"Hey, hey," Caliope stopped you from the counter. "The Carpenters?" she asked, raising an eyebrow as she handed you a chamomile tea in a recyclable mug.
You accepted it nodding.
"Uh, yeah. It's my parents' favorite band. Does it sound bad?"
Caliope vehemently denied.
"Not at all."
Taking your second sip of tea, you raised it with a smile.
"Thanks for the free tea. You do know I don't play here for free food, right?" you asked.
Caliope raised her eyebrows in surprise.
"Oh, no queenie" she denied using the nickname she had given you since she met you "Not today. This is an invitation from the curious not ugly man who's been watching you since you arrived"
You turned, surprised, following Caliope's gaze, and found — not just eyes — but Spencer Reid's eyes surrounded by a purple scarf around his neck, sitting elegantly and eccentrically at the farthest table in the bar. Then, you sent him a serious look that Caliope immediately caught.
"Should I call the police?" she hesitated clumsily.
You shook your head.
"No, it's the police" then you smiled to reassure her " I know him."
You walked towards Spencer, seeing him somewhat nervous, as if guilty of eating the last cookie from the bag.
"Good performance up there" he greeted." I didn't know you could sing"
You observed him in silence and shook your head slowly.
"I hadn't told anyone at work. It's just a hobby..." you stammered "...What are you doing here?"
Spencer looked a bit more nervous, then fiddled with one of the laces of his converse while looking at the ground.
"I..." then his voice almost disappeared "... I followed you because I was going to suggest we could take the subway together since we both go the same But then I got curious about where you were going. I promise when I saw you enter the cafe, I thought, 'Okay. She's in a safe place. This is when I leave'" he looked at you honestly "And then I liked the place, and I thought it would probably be good to run into you and say it was just a coincidence."
That caught you by surprise. That didn't sound like Spencer at all. Not knowing what to say, you looked at your chamomile tea and heard Spencer clear his throat.
"Yeah. Since it's late, I thought something caffeine and theine-free would be much better"
You nodded at Spencer's explanation and silently sipped the infusion.
"It's true. It is"
You saw him press his lips with discomfort, and something seemed to bother him.
"Please don't be bothered by this. I never do this, really. I understand we are also colleagues. And now I feel like I intruded into your private life"
You interrupted.
" First, no. Except for Callie over there, I have no friends. And second, please, don't keep justifying it because it somehow makes it worse" you paused and smiled, not really feeling the smile, but trying to be friendly " I have to go home. Don't worry about this"
You said your goodbyes and left the place with your hands buried in the pockets of your jacket.
"Wait. I'm really sorry" you heard him behind you.
"You've already said that!" you replied without turning to him, while you continued walking.You heard his steps behind you diminish until he reached your side.
"Seriously. I didn't mean to intrude — he said, gently wrapping his arm around yours.Both stopped, and you recoiled, almost as a natural reaction, making Spencer take a step back and let go of you. That obviously surprised him, but he didn't say anything.
"It doesn't matter now. It's not a state secret. Just, what? did you discover that I play the guitar and sing decently? That's it. Seriously" you kept walking, and Spencer decided to accompany your steps.
"I'm your friend"
That statement stopped you in your tracks. You looked directly into his eyes with a surprised look.
"What?"
"Yeah. You're my friend. That's how I see you," he clarified almost shyly. "Although friends don't keep secrets, but we can work on that," he said with so much confidence that you could feel the walls around you crumbling.
After that, Spencer suggested the plan of revealing a secret from time to time, even if it was tiny and of little importance. He never pressured you, though, and that made you feel safe. A couple of months ago, you had managed to tell your team about your hobby when you announced that Caliope had offered you a table with free snacks and drinks for the anniversary of your adoption, and everyone was invited.
You had been adopted at the age of 12, which meant you had spent much of your life in foster home and temporary homes with guardians who had accepted you more for government benefits than out of a kind and giving heart. You knew that was the main reason why your shyness was a huge personal enemy. When your parents adopted you, you came to your new home with many reservations. What kind of people adopt an almost teenager when they could easily adopt a baby and raise it without all the traumas and problems you carried? You had been in therapy because you couldn't speak more than two words in a sentence, and you brought with you a bunch of deeply ingrained habits that you no longer had to carry out; your parents genuinely loved you and wouldn't send you back to the orphanage for breaking a plate or not making your bed perfectly. Although you had created a connection with them and felt comfortable around them, it was still difficult for you to interact with the world. Your parents made an effort to plan barbecues with your father's entire police department and instill in you the confidence to earn your own money and step out of your comfort zone. That helped you take risks; you went to college in a place far from New York at Caltech, then joined the FBI, and suddenly you found yourself in a job interview at Hotchner's office. You had been alone, and the weight of the sudden responsibility that your job required hit your shoulders hard; you had no idea, however, that Spencer Reid would be right by your side all the time to make that weight lighter.
Obviously, you would fall in love with him.
Due to your history, it was difficult for you to give your heart a chance to risk feeling something for a guy, and because of your personality, it was difficult for a guy to even get close to you and decide to be your friend. Spencer broke those walls and also built a bridge for the rest of the team to cross and get to know you.
You had let him in; he helped you with your little aversion to kids. You went from feeling terribly uncomfortable with them to not knowing how you could live without Henry and Mike. He knew about your fascination with compost and Californian worms without thinking for a minute that it was disgusting and that you were a weirdo. He had even entered your kitchen and followed every instruction from the recipe book your mother had given you but that you had never used because you were very bad at cooking.In retrospect, you opened the doors of your life, your mind, and practically let him into your heart with a welcoming committee.
And it was so damn painful. Especially because he was beautiful, brilliant in more ways than intellectual, and an excellent match, and even if he didn't realize it, other girls did. And the frustrating part was that you were all too aware of the female attention he received.
"Listen; no talking about work tonight," Penelope threatened from her seat while urgently drinking a piña colada through a straw.
You had stepped down from the stage a few minutes ago and sat at the table with your friends. You had mare your own version of "Child Of Mine," the anthem your parents had decided to dedicate to you and the song that had become your favorite since then.
"Olivia, Deacon," Will drew your parents' attention as he hugged J.J from his neck. "A couple of days ago, we celebrated Henry's birthday. Do you know what he asked for as a gift?"
"From your expression, I'm going to guess it wasn't a scale model train," Derek, Who couldn't attend to the party replied with a curious expression.
Will raised a half-smile and shook his head.
"It wasn't a scale model train or an animatronic dinosaur, no."
"It was a gardening and composting kit," J.J answered, making your parents laugh.
"He spent half an hour lecturing us on the structure of a cocoon," Emily drank from her drink and looked at the ceiling. "Ah, I just wanted to eat cake," she recalled, also reminiscing about her frustration, making you laugh.
"I think we owe that to our dear girl here," Rossi pointed to you with his glass and proceeded to make his traditional toast.
Spencer watched your cheeks change color to a nervous pink and lower your gaze, causing your lashes to brush your cheekbones.
He knew why those little bugs fascinated you so much; daily they did essential work for the ecosystem that no one saw and laid thousands of tiny eggs protected by a cocoon that enveloped them until they were ready to hatch. Those characteristics made you unconsciously identify with them.
His eyes studied you from top to bottom, enjoying the microscopic reactions that only he, because he knew you so well, could see, and he felt somewhat overwhelmed. Lately, this happened to him frequently; he even considered getting medical exams again to check that everything was fine. Maybe he just needed to lift himself a bit.
"Pizza and strawberry juice?" He offered, knowing that under no circumstances would you drink alcohol.You looked up at him as the rest listened to your father tell a story from his years in the police.
"I can go, don't worry," Spencer said.
"Spencer, I can do it, it's not a problem" you replied.
Spencer raised a small smile and unconsciously, for a brief moment, placed his hand on yours.
"No problem as well, I'll go order and be back in a minute," he promised and quickly walked to the counter where your friend was talking to a few clients.
You watched his back with a somewhat lost look. You repeated to yourself over and over that you had to try to see yourself as he did: his friend, nothing more.
Of course, your emotions had decided something completely different.
You averted your gaze from Spencer and decided to make an effort to engage in the conversation at the table to distract yourself for a while. The "minute" turned into half an hour, and then you realized Spencer still hadn't returned with the juice and slice of pizza he had promised you. You searched for him throughout the bar until you found him at Caliope's counter, confidently pulling a coin from the ear of a fascinated girl sitting there.
The elegantly shaped woman, sporting heels that only accentuated her already lengthy legs, held a martini in one hand and had Spencer's full attention in the other. He animatedly spoke to her, occasionally touching a strand of her hair while asking her questions about something that seemed to greatly excite him.
You observed yourself, feeling overly aware of all your flaws and the fact that, of course, Spencer wasn't by your side at the moment. He was too busy performing his coin trick again with the unknown woman.
You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, feeling a tight knot in your stomach, pulling your guts, remembering the scene you just wanted to escape from. Spencer was charming, and when he talked about something that interested him, his eyes shone and magnetized the area, so much that there was no other option but to gravitate around him, unable to deny him attention. This time was no exception; Spencer's charisma stealing the attention of the captivating woman with a perfect impeccable smile.
Jealousy, like an unexpected storm, seized your veins, pulling at them and tensing your body. Involuntary glances towards Spencer and the captivating brunette revealed your internal turmoil. Spencer's subtle flirting gestures turned into a vivid picture, leaving an indelible mark on you.
Panic surged through you; you were at a table full of profilers, your parents being the best in the field, even though they had never studied it, but they would analyze you perfectly because they just knew you that good. They would read you; you had to leave there quickly before they noticed, and could only feel pity for you.
"I'll get some fresh air," you whispered confidently to your mom.
She knew that social situations easily drained you, so she wouldn't suspect. You stood up, trying to appear natural, and walked away from the scene that systematically broke your heart, making you want to confront Spencer even though he owed you nothing. He was single, and you were just his best friend.
You took a deep breath once outside, running your fingers through your hair, trying not to lose your composure. You had to leave, right? Invent an excuse; a stomach virus or something. You could pretend something like that without them realizing you were faking. You just had to seem convinced.
Outside, the air was cold in contrast to the boiling emotions within you. You tried to calm yourself, and when you thought you had succeeded, you turned to re-enter the bar, only to collide with Spencer, who was hurrying out with a concerned look that didn't relax until his eyes met yours.
"Are you okay? You left in a hurry, and I got worried," he said.
You bit the inside of your cheek, but that didn't stop you from responding with too much harshness, "I'm fine. I just needed some air. I'm surprised you noticed me leave; you seemed very comfortable."
Spencer looked surprised. You had never spoken to him like that, and he couldn't find a logical reason for it.
"Comfortable? What are you talking about?"
You lowered your gaze. Of course, Spencer Reid wouldn't be aware of his own flirting.
"With the girl at the bar. You left for a slice of pizza and didn't come back" That seemed to make Spencer piece together part of the puzzle, and he genuinely looked embarrassed.
"I'm sorry, I just got distracted."
You wanted to yell at him and drag him away from the bar, but instead, you muttered an almost emotionless "ah."
"I'm sorry for lingering at the bar."
"You know? I think the fresh air hasn't done anything. I must have caught a virus or something. I'll get my things," you excused yourself, knowing you couldn't have acted less convincingly.
"Maybe it's just fatigue. Let's go for your pizza, and you'll see that you'll feel better," he said with a repentant tone.
You shook your head without looking at him.
"No, no. It's not that. Seriously, don't worry. Go back to the girl, and I..." you took a difficult breath, searching for air, "You go back to the girl, and I'll get my things."
Concerned, he might have sworn he saw tears starting to well up in your eyes, triggering alarms inside him. What was happening?
"What? No! I'll take you home. I'm done with her anyway."
That made you feel nauseous. What did that mean? He had finished talking because they had exchanged numbers, and he no longer needed to keep charming her, treating her like a human ATM. He could charm her on their upcoming date, or...?You furrowed your brow.
"You're done with her?"
"Yes. She's a friend of Caliope. She joked about adding a magic show to the bar nights, and her friend asked me to teach her the coin trick to use it to get a date."
You blinked, stunned by that revelation, and looked up at Spencer, who wore the most innocent expression a man of his age could have. That made you forget your distress for a few seconds.
"Spencer..." you called him, "she was just flirting with you."
He blinked quickly, confused. "No, she..."
"She asked you to teach her a trick to flirt because she was flirting with you," you clarified, realizing that all this time Spencer was genuinely teaching a trick to an unknown girl while she genuinely thought she was doing a good job of flirting with him.
That simple explanation seemed to have a clarifying effect on Spencer. His cheeks turned slightly pink. Surely, he felt like a fool.
But here, the only fool was you. You had fallen in love with your best friend and had made a scene of jealousy without justification. What's worse, even though Spencer wasn't interested in the stranger this time, someday, someone who capture his attention would appear, someone he would want to be with. You would have to step back and watch as your best friend, the love of your life, was happy with someone else. You would lose him before even have him for a stranger who he would love dearly. You didn't know if you could bear it.
Spencer observed your face, almost able to imagine all the gears turning inside you. You looked upset and embarrassed. He wondered what you could possibly be thinking. He knew you well and had never seen you so distressed. You didn't want to look him in the eyes, and you weren't sure if you could handle that.No. He needed to fix whatever he had ruined so that you would look at him again with your precious eyes. He saw your guilty expression and accusatory gaze, and then something suddenly clicked. Spencer's heart took a sudden leap.
"Don't tell me I missed the story of your adoption. It's my favorite."
You shook your head, grateful that Spencer changed the subject, but your masochistic side wanted him to keep investigating. That would be the only way Spencer would know how you truly felt.
"No, Dad was telling eberybody the story when he discovered a drug cartel operating in an abandoned gym.
"Spencer nodded in silence, genuinely relieved. "Great. I love the story of your adoption, especially because your dad always adds a new detail."
You shook your head. "I'm sure he makes them up," you replied with a half-smile.
Spencer chuckled. "Whatever. He's good at telling stories," he said, seeing you sigh and nod slowly.
"Yeah, he is. Let's go inside," you said gently. "Maybe we're still in time to hear some of his new creative liberties."
You made a smooth move, but Spencer didn't release his grip on your arm. Instead, he held you with a little more firmness, earning one of your confused looks.
"Hey. A secret of mine for one of yours," he used the phrase he always used to get you to open up and confide something you wanted to tell him but couldn't find a way to.
You furrowed your brow."I... have nothing to—"
"Okay, how about this? I'll tell you my secret first."
You furrowed your brow with curiosity, still confused about what Spencer wanted to achieve with all this. So you nodded to understand.
Spencer looked directly at you. "I think you don't have a virus, and instead, you felt jealous."
Your cheeks turned red, and mortified, you just wanted to disappear.
"Spencer," you pleaded, closing your eyes in embarrassment, "please, let's go inside."
Spencer pressed his lips with excitement, feeling his heartbeats so strongly he could almost hear them in his ear. His hand traveled to your chin, touching your soft skin and directing your face towards him.
You resisted opening your eyes, and you seemed genuinely affected.
"Wait, I haven't finished telling you my secret," you moved away from him almost abruptly, trying to escape from that situation with the least possible damage. He called your name, trying to stop you.
You turned towards him, the tip of your nose beginning to blush; the first symptom that you might soon cry, and he wanted to clarify the situation before it got worse.
"No, Spencer. I won't stay here to hear something I don't need you to say."
He sighed. "Please, angel, just... trust me."
For some reason, that request broke your heart, and the irrational fear that you would leave there with his feelings hurt tore you apart inside. But he looked at you pleadingly, and the gentleness of his request broke down your protective barrier. You didn't say anything, but you didn't leave, so Spencer took it as a green light to keep talking.
"I wasn't flirting with her. Seriously. And I'll tell you why; here's the secret," he took a step towards you but still wasn't close enough. He seemed nervous but didn't hesitate for a second when the next words left his mouth, "I can't flirt with anyone else because the only person I want to do it with is you."
That revelation left you completely stunned. Your lips parted in surprise, and nothing came out of your mouth for a couple of long seconds.
"I... you," you murmured, unable to believe that he had actually said that, "don't joke with me," you pleaded in a thin voice.
He shook his head seriously, and it seemed like he hadn't finished telling you the secret because he kept talking.
"And I want to flirt with you because the truth and the secret are that I love you."
And yes, that's how a person falls apart, piece by piece. Your chest felt too small for your heart, which seemed to be growing inevitably inside you.
It wasn't possible that he had actually said that. He watched you at the same safe distance and raised his eyebrows, hoping you would say something, hope filtering through his gaze.
"Do you have any secrets to tell me?"You looked down at the pavement, not sure if you could move. Your feet were anchored to the ground, and finally, you nodded, trying to find the strength to speak.
"Yes," you admitted, adjusting your hair and clearing your throat as you tried to maintain a pose and say more than one word, "yes, I have a secret," you clarified, looking directly into his eyes with a burst of courage, "I also want you to flirt with me, and-and flirt with you," you blinked rapidly, "because I've been in love with you for a long time now, and I really don't know what to do with that."
Spencer watched you slowly with studious slowness, and finally, a satisfied little smile appeared on his face, slowly rising and with a mischievous glint in his eyes. He approached you, circling your lower back, and his breath collided with you.
"I do know what to do," he replied confidently, and then closed the remaining centimeters that separated you to give you a kiss that both had waited a long time to happen.
The kiss carried a quiet intensity, as if time stood still for both of them. Spencer's tenderness was a silent promise that he was willing to navigate through your complexities with patience and care. His touch, a soothing balm, erased the doubts that had persisted in the shadows of your mind for the past few years.
Upon parting, the street seemed to exhale a collective sigh. Spencer's gaze radiated a newly discovered warmth, and you, with your heart echoing the unspoken feelings, realized that sometimes, in the simplicity of a kiss, truths could be expressed more eloquently than words. The night air carried the weight of that shared revelation, and under the embrace of the lamppost light, Spencer and you looked at each other breathlessly.
"I think we're really missing my father's story right now," you whispered, raising your hand to Spencer's face at last, satisfying your eternal hunger to touch him.
He smiled, taking your hand and kissing your palm affectionately.
"With all due respect; right now, I'm writing one just as good as his," he said, making you laugh, "you're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen."
You felt your cheeks warming.
"Oh, stop," you asked, but he made no promises as he took your hand and began to walk towards the bar "Now let's go for your pizza, I guess your virus left as quickly as it came."
You sighed.
"How brave" you replied, but you moved closer to his side and nestled into him as he wrapped his arm around you.
He would keep you by his side, keep you by his side for the rest of his life.
#criminal minds#spencer reid#dr spencer reid#friends to lovers#spencer reid fanfic#criminal minds fanfic#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid x jealous! reader#criminal minds au#spencer reid au
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I Remember Halloween
Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader
Category: Fluff/Comfort
Warnings: mentions of burnout and anxieties
Based on a single tiktok and this song
~ More and more I’ll catalogue my doubts ~
You could see the signs. Hell, you’d always been able to see the signs. Even when you and Spencer weren’t dating and were just co-workers, you’d been able to see the signs. You don’t see how anyone could miss any of Spencer’s tells, honestly, though he was terribly good at masking them when he wanted to. However, since semi-retiring from the BAU and focusing more on teaching, Spencer had been less careful, less guarded. It would annoy him if you said so, but you delighted in it - the openness, the guard finally down fully. Suffice it to say that when your adorable husband came home two weeks in a row, exhausted even after only teaching one class, you recognized it as burnout, even if he didn’t. Or wouldn’t - self care had never been Spencer’s strong suit. Which is why the element of surprise is entirely necessary, no matter how drastic it may feel. It was incredibly helpful that, despite living through a pandemic working in education and being a genius, your husband still is an abysmally precious mess when it comes to technology.
You’d originally thought to do a Friday, but with various friend and family celebrations almost every weekend until the end of the year, it made more sense - and frankly made it more fun - to cancel Spencer’s classes for a day and play hooky a little.
It’s a bright and slightly rainy Thursday morning - random, but purposefully so - in September. Your husband’s alarm goes off and he leans over, pressing a kiss to your temple, before getting up and taking a shower. Every so often, you’d join him in the shower, but not today. Today you get up and head to the kitchen.
You’d loved Spencer’s old apartment, but when the two of you moved in together, especially after the events of his last few somewhat traumatizing years with the BAU, a change felt necessary. The two bedroom, two bath bungalow you two found just outside of Stafford, Virginia was just as charming as Spencer’s old place. Antique, but modern enough to have better security than his old building (he is understandably a stickler for safety). The kitchen features windows looking out into your small backyard, Spencer planted a tree last year and you’re sure it was in order to watch the leaves change as fall arrives. The tips of the leaves are just beginning to yellow, the light rain a perfect background for the day you have planned. You turn on the stove and oven and open the fridge, pulling out a can of pumpkin spice cinnamon rolls and the package of turkey bacon. You begin cooking and you can hear your husband start getting ready and, just as you thought it would, the smell of the food draws him away from his typical morning routine (get dressed, make coffee, grab a granola bar if he remembers to) and brings him to the kitchen.
“Is there a reason,” he asks from the doorway, “that it smells…like, um-“
“Like fall?” you ask, smiling over your shoulder at him as you flip the turkey bacon in the pan. Spencer grins and you turn back to the food.
“Well, yeah,” Spencer says. “You planning a fun day alone?”
You wince a little at the small hint of jealousy you hear in his voice, thrilled that your response is, “No, not alone.”
“Oh,” he replies, a little shocked. “Is someone coming ov-“
“Nope,” you reply cheerfully, grabbing a mitt and pulling the cinnamon rolls out of the oven.
“Wait…wait, what?” Spencer questions, totally not distracted by you bending over like that.
“Come on, lovey,” you tease, turning to face him fully. “Put the pieces together.”
He stares at you for a moment and then looks almost overwhelmingly sad, “Honey, I have three classes today, I can’t-“
“About that,” you cut him off quietly. He arches a brow at you, but you cross to the end of the kitchen island, pulling out Spencer’s university laptop and opening it, clicking to his classes’ dashboard page on the school’s site and turning it around slowly, chewing on your lip just a little nervously.
“Dear Students,” Spencer reads after popping on his glasses. “Classes are cancelled until Monday due to slight illness on my part. Have a great long weekend - be sure to read ahead for Monday!”
There’s a slightly too long silence that makes you just a bit nervous.
“I know it might be a bit of an overstep, but you’ve just seemed so…so burned out lately and-“ you’re cut off as Spencer moves to stand right in front of you.
“You cancelled my classes for me?” he asks, a small smile poking at the corner of his mouth.
“Yes,” you reply.
“So that we could…do what, exactly?” He attempts to keep his smile at bay, but is nearly beaming.
“Well,” you smile, “I thought we could eat some pumpkin spice cinnamon rolls and bacon and, I don’t know, maybe get really cozy on our super comfortable couch and watch Hocus Pocus, Corpse Bride, and Practical Magic? Maybe throw in Crimson Peak if we’re still going strong?”
“Just to clarify, you realized I was burned out and decided to plan a cozy fall movie day to make me feel better?” Spencer asks, almost incredulous, wrapping his arms around your waist.
“That would be it, yes,” you nod, wrapping your arms around his neck.
“Damn,” he mutters quietly, looking down at you.
“What?” you giggle.
“Nothing,” Spencer beams, turning his head and eyeing your lips, “I just definitely married the perfect woman.”
Your laugh is quickly quashed by his lips on yours.
~ I remember Halloween. ~
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#spencer reid fanfiction#dr spencer reid#spencer reid#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid one shot#spencer reid blurb#criminal minds#criminal minds blurb#criminal minds fanfiction#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid comfort#i know it’s august#but it’s basically halloween
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little lamb
spencer reid x fem!reader (angst)
synopsis: you are kidnapped by an unsub
word count: 1.5k
warnings: blood, kidnapping, torture, hurt/comfort
masterlist | requests are open
a finger slowly and steadily hovers above your skin, running from your chin to your collarbone. your hair stands on edge as he looks down towards you. the man has a wicked smile on his face, his lips curl only a little as he sees the fear resting in your eyes.
"pretty little lamb, tricked so easily by a wolf in sheep's clothing. couldn't you, of all people, see that i very clearly brought you into my trap? shouldn't the fbi be the best of the best? and yet you follow like sheep," he brutally laughs, the thick mucus building up in his throat quickly regurgitating.
your eyes look up at the man, meeting his own. he has rich brown eyes, nearly black, as the light fades from them. "oh, but obviously i chose you for a reason, can't you see? i chose you because they'd do anything to keep you safe. that spencer kid, yeah, i'm sure he's loving this."
spencer... your lip quivers a little as you attempt to hold back any tears. your mind begins to race as to what he had said about the unsub. that he thrives on fear, he enjoys someone who fears him. that the man also has to have a military background, probably a father figure who served.
"you're a sick bastard," your jaw tightens in his direction, your lips no longer moving, your eyes attempting to hide the very real fear hidden within.
he laughs, raising his hand up to his forehead, "isn't that just great, you're trying to act like you're not scared? have i not put on enough theatrics for you people? not enough risk?"
just out of your line of sight, the man grabs something. it doesn't leave much room for imagination as it sticks into your upper arm, a knife. it's a few inches deep into the skin and yet he feels the need to push it in a little farther. like the man yearns for the feeling of ending someone's life, like he is draining their life force.
despite the strong will inside, an exasperated cry for help reverberates deep from your lungs. a laugh rings through your head, a rich and annoying laugh that imbeds itself. he pulls the knife out and watches as the blood seeps down your blouse. "are you finally getting it? that you can't hide your fear as well as you think you can."
"fuck off," you swallow whatever phlegm built up in your mouth, your eyes meeting his.
a little spit hits his cheek, his eyes wide in amusement. everything you do can't stop the vile things he is already planning out in his head. "really? stupid little lamb. none of your friends? coworkers? what do you consider them? because if it's anything closer than coworkers, i'm sure they'll be crying at your funeral."
no amount of training can prepare you for the expression on his face. no amount of an agent shouting at you that this moment is the moment that matters. no amount of textbooks that spencer sends to your office can prepare you for the feeling of a knife running along your thigh.
"you know how this goes, you've seen the tapes. how about you look up and give your last words. and makes sure they're nice, your boyfriend will be watching," he smiles, shrugging his shoulders as he adjusts a shoddy camera hooked up to a laptop.
of course you've thought of your last words, you're an fbi agent. you've been in comprising situations. however, you never thought it would realistically come. it never has and you thought retirement would've come quicker. "no," you shake your head, no long winded speech about justice, just no.
"no? what do you mean no? you really have nothing to say to me? your friends? family? don't you wanna say anything?" he yells, the knife falling with his hand until it grazes your knee, taking a piece of skin with it.
you double over in the chair, your arms restricting you from moving forward much. your teeth clench hard against your lips and cause a little blood to fall. the unsub looks to you, his knife bloodied and dangerous. without much foresight, he hits the backend of it against your nose.
with the same hand, he uses his knuckle to hit your eye and eyebrow. the knife slicing your forehead as he does so. "you're all so stubborn. you know that?" the unsub breaths heavily, parts of his face twitching as he glared at you. "maybe this'll be the tape, i don't need you give some sob story."
"yes you do," you cough up, ensuring that your word count stay small, "you need me to."
was goading the unsub your best choice? probably not. but from what you can remember is that this unsub is repetitive. he has traits similar to that of someone with obsessive compulsive disorder. he needs you to give a grand speech because that's what he's been taught.
"i do, little lamb? and how would you know, because some of your profiler friends know? they don't know me, but since you think they do, then tell me. how well do they know me?" he smiles, believing he had somehow tricked you into believing that this doesn't count.
but every long winded speech counts. he just can't recognize it. "you're right, they don't know you," your eyebrows lower, your forehead creasing as you wait and watch as the unsub sighs. his thumb running along the edge of the knife's handle.
he leans towards you, his eyes inches from yours, and truly it's the first time you've seen such lifeless eyes from a living person. the unsub takes the knife and plunges it into your stomach, your body lurching forwards at the impact. however, it doesn't do much but makes the wound feel even worse.
the knife twists a little as he continues to stare right at your eyes, waiting for something. but the only thing the two of you can hear is a loud crashing noise. the man quickly pulls the knife out, causing blood to quickly pour from the spot.
"fbi! raise your hands mr. sanchez and drop the knife!" derek's voice coats your mind and released a wave of serotonin. suddenly adrenaline is not the only thing keeping you running.
"i'm in here!" you attempt to scream, however, it mainly comes out as a croak. your voice scratchy and losing most of its shape and tone.
the one and only person you wanted to see the most runs through the doorway. his fbi vest covers a sweater vest, his hands raised with a finger wrapped around the trigger of a gun. spencer.. your face instantly falls, tears piling up by your eyes, "spence."
he lowers the gun, stuffing it into his holster as he runs over to you. spencer raises his hands up to your face, his fingers lingering by your eyes. his thumb runs along your cheeks as tears run down his own face. especially when he notices the blood covering your blouse and jeans.
"what happened? we have an ambulance here, an emt is making his way up as we speak. i should've been there with you, should've stopped him," spencer's eyes search the wounds on your body, making sure to unbound your hands.
you shake your head, your lip shaking as you can't find the words to answer his questions. a shiver runs along your arms, sending goosebumps down your body as spencer's hands press against your stomach. you wait for seconds, watching until the emt finally arrived.
"i'm jake, the emt. where have you been hurt?" he immediately opens his bag, his eyes looking between you and spencer.
spencer starts instructing him of the places he could find that seemed to have surpassed the skin. "thank you," you whisper to him as the emt patches up your stomach. the stitches running through your skin causes you hold onto spencer's hand, making sure to hold it tightly.
"you'll be okay, because i know you. you're strong, y/n. you survived this, that's what matters," spencer reaches his hands up to your cheeks again, smearing a little blood onto one of them. he stands up and kissing the top of your forehead. his lips are soft, yet slightly cracked from possible dehydration.
you look up at him, your head pounding from the loss of blood. and yet, the only thing you can think of is spencer. it's the best time to have your mind sidetracked, enamored with the love of your life instead of with the hasty stitches in your stomach.
"are you coming with to the hospital?" you question, your hand grabbing his, your eyes closing slowly as you start to feel the pain that the adrenaline can no longer hide.
"of course y/n, i would go to the ends of the earth with you. what's one hospital?" spencer smiles, bringing a little warmth to your evening. it may be to help you not realize just how freaked out he is, either way, his smile is exactly what you would've wanted to see last before passing out.
#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#dr spencer reid#criminal minds#spencer reid angst#angst#criminal minds angst#criminal minds fic
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Welcome To The Sanctuary
Negan x Reader (Rick’s Daughter)
Chapter 1: Something Eerie
Chapter Summary: It was supposed to be just another pickup day - not a nightmare. Rick is ready to strike against Negan, but all war efforts come to a complete stop, when the life of the woman both men care about the most is on the line.
Wordcount: 2157
Era: Season 7
- Part 5 of the The One And Only Series -
Chapter Index:
Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 - COMING SOON!
Masterlist / Negan x Rick's Daughter Series
It’s late in the morning, when a small convoy of trucks makes its way down the deserted roads.
The Saviors are heading to their bosses favorite community. Negan is almost mindlessly driving behind one of the trucks, watching the all too familiar suburb passing by his windows. Today is pickup day for Alexandria and he can’t wait to see what Prick’s people got him this time. It better be good after all the trouble his son caused last week.
It probably won't be much, he muses. Not that he cares too much about it but the town is now short of three more people. It certainly has to put their scavengers under even more pressure. But then again, Rick and especially his Sweet-Thing had to deal with even worse conditions in the past, when coordinating their teams and if anyone can get shit done, it’s her.
After the events of last week's pickup, Negan had to think of her constantly. She must have known about Spencer's plans or at least had to have a suspicion, given how stressed she was, when he first approached them. What a slimy asshole and a coward on top. There is no doubt in his mind his Sunshine would have killed him for what he tried to do. Luckily she didn’t have to lift a finger, she is already close enough to getting exiled as it is and also Negan was more than willing to lend a hand in that matter.
As much as he can't stand Rick, he's got to admit that he's doing a good job - that is keeping his people alive and scavenging good stuff. Also he is well experienced from his years outside of that town and kept so many people alive during that time. That knowledge is priceless in times like this and Negan actually respects him for it. That Spencer really thought he'd not just be as good but even better than Rick as a leader is not only astonishing but also downright pathetic. That asshole got what he deserved.
Still, there is one thing from this whole ordeal that’s still leaving a bitter taste in Negan's mouth and that is the death of the fat woman. He disliked her and was never subtle about it but he knew she was somewhat close to his Sunshine and although it was Arat’s decision to take her out, he still feels sorry for Y/N.
He can’t forget that burning anger in her eyes, when she glared at that bitch that tried to shoot him. He'd be lying if he said he wasn’t at least a little bit turned on by the sight of it, as out of place as it was. After all his Sweet-Thing is hot as hell when she’s pissed and she’s been seething.
Negan can’t help but smile at that memory. He’s so excited to see her again. It surprised him how much he actually enjoyed their little game of hide and seek. It made the whole affair even more enticing. Still he’s glad people somehow found out eventually. Hopefully this will result in more time with her than rushed quickies every now and then. Given the new circumstances, Negan decided to retire his RV for the time being and left it in The Sanctuary. There is no need for it anymore and her bedroom will do just fine. He really can’t wait to take his time with her.
Finally the high walls of Alexandria are slowly coming into view and the head of the Saviors focuses back onto the road ahead of him. Slowly the gate opens up, making way for the convoy. Negan scans the guards standing on the wall but his Sunshine is nowhere to be seen. She’s not on duty right now it seems.
The trucks drive through the gate onto the parking lot and Negan stops his car right on top of the convoy. The Saviors gather around their vehicles, ready to go through today's pickup. Negan jumps out of his car, shutting the door shut.
Uncomfortableness is creeping up his spine immediately - Something is wrong.
Somehow he has the feeling that something is off but Negan just can’t put his finger on it and it's making him feel quite uneasy. Suddenly on high alert, he's looking around the area. Usually around this time Alexandrians would roam the street, watching the activities but the streets are empty.
Except for one person.
“Ah, Rick!” Negan calls the approaching man with a bright smile that quickly dies again. The closer Rick gets, the more his sorry state becomes visible. The man looks like he’s seen a ghost. His skin is pale, only accentuating the redness of his sunken eyes. The hell happened to him?
Once he’s reached the Saviors, Rick greets them with a weak nod of his head. “Negan. Your stuff’s at the pantry.”
A frown settles on Negan's face. Rick’s not meeting his eyes and while that’s nothing out of the ordinary, in fact it’s quite welcome, it still seems off. The other man’s not avoiding his gaze like he used to but is just staring into the void. What the hell is going on here? After another quick glance around the area, still not seeing his Sweet-Thing, Negan asks, “Where’s Y/N?”
Rick swallows hard. After a moment, he states. “She’s out scouting.”
This statement only adds to the distressing feeling in Negan’s gut. Rick is so obviously lying. She would never go out scouting with a different car than her stupid Mini. The Mini that is clearly sitting in the far corner of the parking lot.
Negan takes one step closer to Rick, his eyes narrowing. But before he can confront Rick about his observations, he sees a woman appearing in the corner of his eye. She’s stepping out of the infirmary. That’s one of Sunshine’s team, he realizes. The woman is crying and wiping her tears. Blood is dripping from her hands.
Negan’s eyes switch between her and Rick. Something is going on. After one final glance at the other man who’s still not meeting his eyes, Negan gets moving. He pushes himself past Rick without a word, heading for the infirmary. Rick’s about to say something but when he sees Sasha standing on the porch, he keeps his mouth shut, following Negan with his head down.
Knots tighten in Negan's chest. The air feels tense, almost eerie. There is not a single person in sight and the whole town is silent. Only the sound of boots moving over the gravel can be heard. It’s quite goosebumps inducing. The head of the Saviors tries to calm himself down, he can’t have his nerves get the better of him.
When they reach the porch, Sasha moves out of their way to the side. She looks at Rick, even more tears are running down her cheeks when she slowly shakes her head at him. Negan can’t see Rick's reaction but at the moment he doesn’t care. All he wants is to find out what’s going on. With the unpleasant feeling in his gut quickly growing, he opens the door and moves inside.
Once through the door, the man is being hit with the pungent smell of blood. His nose crinkles to its own accord and he is met with another puffy red eye. Rick's boy is sitting on a chair next to a cot, looking up at him with a tear stained face, holding the hand of the person lying there.
When Negan's eyes eventually wander to the cot, he stops dead in his tracks. Sunshine. Negan almost forgot how to breathe. There is so much blood.
"It's been an accident." Rick's small voice sounds behind the boss, but he barely registers the other man. Negan moves forward, coming to stand right next to Carl. The boy doesn’t say a word, only holding the hand of his sister in silence.
Negan’s eyes roam over her. His Sunshine is almost unrecognizable, the way she's lying there, completely still, unconscious. Her skin is so pale, almost gray. Bandages are wrapped around her exposed middle but there is still so much blood on her, the cot, the equipment. A rusty metal rod on the cart catches Negan's attention briefly but he quickly moves his eyes back to the big crimson red spot on her belly.
"It happened so fast." Rick tries to explain, "We couldn't-"
"Got a doc or something?" Negan cuts him off immediately, his eyes not leaving her.
Rick’s just looking at his daughter. "She's… she’s our medic.”
Negan’s clenching his jaw. A quiet fuck is leaving his lips as he’s running his ungloved hand through his hair, still taking all of this in.
She’s dying.
Once that thought passes his mind, Negan snaps back from his spinning mind. He moves his attention back to her father, “Prepare her for transport. I’m taking her with us.”
“No-” Rick is about to argue, but there is no room nor time for a debate right now.
“I see you still don't understand what your daughter means to me, Rick.” Negan states in a serious tone, towering over the other man. “I’ve got a doc and a clinic. She’s coming with me.”
“I'm coming with you.” Surprised, both men look at the boy. “So she won't be alone.”
After a short moment of consideration, Negan agrees and nods at him. “Fine. Pack her some things.” Carl carefully places his sister's hand on the cot again, before quickly rushing out of the room. Negan turns his head back towards Rick again. “You get her ready,” he orders, before brushing past him, getting his car.
Rick watches him leave before moving his attention back to his daughter again. Slowly he comes closer, taking her hand in his. His eyes well up again as he looks at her. He raises her hand to his lips, praying to any God who cares to listen, to make her stay, to not take her away. “I love you so much,” he whispers against her skin. It pains him so much to see her like that.
After a new wave of tears are threatening to stream down his face, Rick realizes he has to get going. With as much care as he can muster, he puts a blanket around his daughter, wrapping her up into a cocoon before slowly lifting her up into his arms. Cautiously he hugs her against his chest. “Please don't leave us, Y/N.”
Eventually Rick starts moving, bringing his daughter outside. Sasha is sitting on the railing, still fighting the tears, trying to take a breath and calm down. She offers to help him but Rick doesn't seem to notice her as he’s passing her by without a word. Negan parked his car right in front of the house, Carl is already waiting next to it with a duffel bag in his hand.
Rick walks down the steps attentively, going towards the car. Negan, who just finished instructing Simon to carry on with the pickup, comes closer, ready to take over but Rick moves past him. Carl quickly opens the door before helping his father to slowly and carefully lay his sister down onto the back seat of the car. Rick tugs her in one more time, whispering to her to keep fighting, to please wake up again, before he has to reluctantly let go of her.
As much as he hates Negan and as much as he distrusts him with every fiber of his being, if that man can save her, he will swallow all his hatred up. He’d do everything in and beyond his power for her. All he wants is for his daughter to open her eyes again.
Negan comes to stand next to Rick, looking at him with something close to compassion in his features, “Whatever happens, either way, I’ll let you know.” He's reaching out his hand, offering the other man a two-way radio.
Rick only nods silently, taking it. After one final look at his daughter, he's moving away. Negan lets out a sharp whistle, gaining Carl's attention. “Jump in.” The boy does as he’s been told, hopping into the passenger seat while Negan hurries onto his.
The engine roars to life as they quickly take off and hit the road. Rick watches them drive out of the gate. His heart is shattering into a million pieces. This feels way too much like a last goodbye.
Sasha’s slowly approaching him. She puts her hand on his shoulder in a comforting gesture, but there is nothing that can console him.
Negan is racing down the streets as fast as he can. Adrenaline is rushing through his veins. Please, let it not be too late. It’s dead silent in the car. Now more than ever is he afraid of noises.
Dreading to hear the tell-tale sound of quiet groaning.
Chapter Index:
Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 - COMING SOON!
Masterlist / Negan x Rick's Daughter Series
Taglist: @starry-night-20 / @joceymoo / @srhxpci / @ladykxxx08 / @sunneeflower / @frombloodandflesh / @aleeeesa /@lanamiller / @fanfic-n-tabulous / @noirfan12 / @abbiesxox / @elinafresk / @obsessiveformiyatwins / @kokushibosgirl / @syrma-sensei / @oceandolores
#ao3#fanfic#fanfiction#the walking dead#negan / reader#negan smith#negan x reader#twd#negan#rick grimes#Carl Grimes#jdm#jeffrey dean morgan#The Walking Dead#negan x oc#twd negan#carl grimes#daryl#daryl dixon#twd fanfiction#sasha williams
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spence-tober: day 31 - bookshop owner
pairing: bookshop owner!spencer reid x fem!reader
summary: in which you bring your newborn son to your husband's bookshop as a midday surprise
word count: 1292
warnings: fluff, talks of children, pregnancy, mentions of labor, bedrest, formula, pump for breastfeeding
spence-tober masterlist
The familiar ding alert of the bell above the door as you opened it was like music to your ears. It had been far too long since you had stepped foot into the homey feeling bookshop and you didn’t realise how much you missed it until you took in the sight you’d seen so many times before.
The lines and aisles of bookshelves to the right and left of you are abundant, but not overcrowding the space in the small storefront. There’s a small lending library in the front window next to the children’s reading space and a counter in the middle with curtains hanging on the wall, leading to the back where you know categorizing and inventory goes on.
“Welco-” The voice belonging to your husband starts to say, his voice ringing out in the room for everyone to hear.
Spencer had his nose in a book, sitting behind the counter on a comfortable stool waiting for customers or anyone else who needed assistance in the store. When he looked up to greet the patron of the store, his eyes instead met yours. His darling wife of six years.
However, his eyes didn’t stay on your form for very long, straying to the bundle all swaddled up in a travel car seat that hung from your arms.
Your’s and Spencer’s newborn son, Gideon Reid, sleeping away in a swaddle unknown to his new surroundings. The tiny small baby with a little hat around tucked at his ears to keep him warm and a cute outfit that you had dressed him in just before leaving the house.
“Oh!” Spencer says in an adoring tone. Quickly he puts down his book and moves around the counter to come towards the two of you.
“What are you doing here?” He whispers as he reaches you at the front of the store. Spencer pulls you in for a sweet kiss and then moves his attention to the car seat, taking it gently in his arms and gazing down at his son. He’s switched to a lower volume to not disturb the sleeping newborn.
In the last stage of your pregnancy, it was getting harder and harder for you to travel to the bookstore which you hated. But when your doctor prescribed bedrest for the last month of your pregnancy, Spencer had put his foot down and practically bound you to the bed, getting everything you need so you wouldn’t wear yourself out or go into early labor.
You smile at your husband who’s looked back to you, a large teethy grin, “I wanted to surprise you.”
Spencer presses another sweet kiss to your lips before reaching behind you to flip the sign hanging at the front of the door to ‘closed’ before taking your hand and Gideon in his car seat and leading the both of you to the back of the store.
The bedrest had worked. You had a relatively fine labor, for how fine labor could be. Your recovery was okay and Spencer had been a big help with taking care of you and Gideon when you first came home from the hospital. Even though Gideon is your first baby, Spencer’s dad instincts kicked in and he instantly was so good with baby Gideon.
“Thank you for the surprise.” Spencer says genuinely before scooping his large hands into the car seat and gently hoisting the still sleeping Gideon to his chest, coddling him close.
You take your phone out of the large diaper bag you carry with you and snap a quick photo of your husband and your son together. Then, you take in the rest of the familiar sight that is Diana’s Library, the bookshop your husband had bought had renovated over the past four years. His former mentor and your son’s namesake, Jason Gideon, had retired and given his best employee, your husband, first right to buy what was the previous space known as Jason’s Library. Since then, Spencer had dedicated it to his mother and worked to make the bookshop of his dreams.
You had contributed as well, putting together bookshelves and cabinets on your free weekends and scouring old second hand books online to add to the library. And when you and Spencer discovered you were pregnant, you also did most of the revamping of the old reading nook to a child friendly reading space. All of this is why you were so pouty when you were placed on bedrest and you couldn’t return to the warm and cozy environment you had grown to love so much.
“I thought it would be nice to visit.” You comment as Spencer rocks back and forth with your sleeping son on his chest. You reach your hand and fix your husband’s glasses that have slid down on his nose.
Spencer smiles back at you, his eyes gleaming with delight, “And you’re feeling okay?” he checks in.
You nod, “Yeah, I am. Took a shower, did some chores around the house.” You list.
“Don’t strain yourself.” Spencer warns, concern in his voice.
“I won’t.” You promise to him, “Besides, I just wanted to get out of the house.”
“You mean that you missed your chair here.” Spencer corrects, a joking tone in his voice and a matching visage in his eyes.
You scoff at his remark, though not denying it, “I don’t know why you couldn’t have asked Derek for his truck so we could bring it to the house.”
“Because you ordered one for the house! We’d have to move it back here!” He laughs. The laughter has jostled Gideon and he slowly wakens from his peaceful slumber despite the small pats Spencer gives on his back.
You purse your lips, “But it’s on backorder and won’t be in for another five months.” You complain and pout.
Spencer laughs at your not-so-serious expression. You take your hand and reach out again, this time adjusting the knit cap on your son’s head to not cover over his eyes. It let’s your son, for the very first time, take in the surroundings that you know he’ll get to know very well in his childhood to come.
Gideon, now awake and alert, moves his head around and by the look on his face, isn’t very happy. Both Spencer and you clock this.
“I just changed his diaper before leaving the house, so he should be good.” You inform your husband.
“Is he maybe hungry?” Spencer says, rocking him back and forth more quickly now. He looks at his son inquisitively, trying to figure out the solution to his grump face that you both know will turn into a shrill cry very quickly unless handled. The rocking holds his cry at bay for now, but its only a temporary solution.
“Hm, maybe.” You say uncertain.
Spencer’s ready though, he takes the diaper bag from your hand and puts in on a clean countertop behind him. Then he opens the cabinets above and you smile to yourself at the sight you see.
“You have a spare pump and formula here?” You say, your heart warming at the sweet sight in front of you. This just confirms to you that you have the best partner ever.
“Of course!” Your husband responds, bringing both down from the cabinet to the counter for you, “This is like our second home. I have a travel crib too if he gets sleepy.”
You pull him in again for a kiss, a longer one this time, and you make sure that you put all the love and emotion you hold for him. As you pull back, you instantly get a gratifying feeling. Being with your husband and your son in your favorite place in the world.
“You are simply the best, Spencer Reid.”
a/n: and this concludes the end of spence-tober 2023! thanks for coming along for the ride, whether this is the first one you've read (check back at the masterlist for more), if you've joined midway, or if you've been here since the beginning!
i'll admit, writing and posting every single day has been a little stressful and finishing writing challenges like these can be hard and taxing, especially with how unexpected life can get. i'll be posting some behind the scenes sometime later this week or next and then i might announce some new things coming soon too!
#criminal minds#criminalminds#spencer reid#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid x reader#criminal minds fluff#dr. spencer reid#criminal minds fic#spencer reid au#spencer reid fanfic
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Smart Cookie
Summary:
“Huh, impressive, Dr. Reid; you’re a smart cookie.” You hold a door open, and he passes through; confused, he turns back.
“Smart cookie?”
“Yeah, you know, clever, intelligent,” you explained, “a smart cookie.”
Pairings:
Spencer Reid x Male!Reader
Tags:
Fluff | Inaccurate Laws Probably | First Meetings | Tattooed Reader (Because I Don't See Enough Of That) |
Words: 3871
Author's Note:
Guess what I started watching 😂 but like seriously, I am loving Criminal Minds, and as you can see, Spencer has become my favorite, I just wanna wrap this man in a hug or something.
Next
“Love is friendship that has caught fire. It is quiet understanding, mutual confidence, sharing, and forgiving. It is loyalty through good and bad times. It settles for less than perfection and makes allowances for human weaknesses.”
- Ann Landers
Spencer’s knowledge of romance could be put together in a mountain of anecdotes and books, labeled by theme, source, and moment of discovery - sexuality, unknown source, age 15, conclusion: gay panic. Practical experience, however, could be summed into a blurb on the back of a book and promptly thrown in a fire. Friendship was something far easier; he’d come to learn it later in life - with childhood peers who took pleasure in putting him through the worst of what the American high school hierarchy had to offer - and even now, in adulthood, there were times he would think that those around him much preferred his absence over his presence.
The BAU was a lot kinder than high school was. Still, there were moments when patience would run thin, tempers may flair, or the occasional reminder that now was not the time for a tangent or a pointless anecdote or ‘do you ever shut up?’ or anything else along those lines - he didn’t mind, not like he’d used to as a child, besides, more often than not, the comments came from outside the BAU. Bystanders, police, investigators - very rarely did Spencer feel the need to squeeze himself into a neat little box and present what was deemed desirable to others, at least not until now.
“Nice to meet you, Dr. Reid.”
Change was never readily accepted by the BAU; in regards to new and retiring teammates, it was met with distaste; the change came in the form of you - a recent transfer to the team - your first case with them in Seattle, Washington. An open case, the unsub would stalk their victims and gather intel on them and their lives before attacking; victims had the murder weapons clutched in their right hand and some form of personal belonging stolen by the unsub. Trophies for his collection, his victims, all graduating students from the local university - he had access to the victim’s schedules, details of their personal lives, and used tools at the scene.
“We’ll split up,” Gideon says, “ask around the university, staff, students, and the victim’s families.”
Spencer gets paired with you, questioning the university’s Faculty of Arts, the main focus of the unsub. The Faculty of Arts focuses on creative arts, writing, philosophy, and humanities - the liberal arts - with the campus’ main library in the area. “Wow, this is fancy,” you remark. Fancy’s an understatement; the faculty entrance was grand, with a pediment and columns overhead and the university emblem on a banner at the door. With the recent deaths, fewer students had been attending classes in person; the faculty head, Professor Jody Cunningham, was an older man with dark graying at the edges, a well-trimmed beard, and smoothed clothes.
“Professor Cunningham….” you called his attention, introducing yourself, “....and this is my colleague, Dr. Reid; we’re with the Behavioral Analysis Unit.”
“A pleasure; thank you for coming; we’re all devastated by the news.”
“Did you know the students?” you ask.
Professor Cunningham nods, “They’d just handed in their thesis, and I’d been making my way through before, you know….” he ran a hand down his face, “now, none of my graduates or other students are coming in.”
“The murders all connect back to one of the subjects taught here; the first was arts, the second, humanities; if he’s going by alphabetical order, then the next one should be natural sciences,” Spencer describes the first two victims, their characteristics, similarities, differences, “do you know any graduate students doing the natural sciences who fit that profile?”
“Three students I can think of, though one of them’s not in the States anymore, so it can only be the other two, Jesse Hudson and Lynn Watson. Jesse’s majoring in biology, and his thesis, I believe, was on the role of the clock gene in protection against neural and retinal degeneration; not 100% caught up on what that is yet, Lynn —”
“The clock gene is a major circadian system regulator found in mammals and fruit flies, the latter of which the transcription factors - clock and cycle - combine and stimulate the transcription of the period and timeless genes. The two proteins bind together and enter the cell nucleus, where the timeless gene then begins to degrade and the liberated period gene interacts with the clock and cycle to prevent them from activating gene expression.” His explanation comes to a stop, and he’s hoping he hasn’t managed to weird you out.
You turn to him, “What happens after?”
“What?” He’s dumbfounded, “uh…well…you want to hear me speak more?”
“It’s why I’m asking,” you reply. “If that’s ok, you don’t have to continue if you don’t want to.”
“No, no, I’d love to; I just….people usually ask me to stop talking,” he shrugs. You raise your eyebrows, and he feels giddy, beaming a little; he carries on, even after you’re finished with professor Cunningham, you don’t deter him. Head tilted to glance at him, your undivided attention. “....I read this from an old thesis in my junior year.”
“And you still remember it?”
He nods. “I don’t forget much,” he points to his head, “eidetic memory.”
“Huh, impressive, Dr. Reid; you’re a smart cookie.” You hold a door open, and he passes through; confused, he turns back.
“Smart cookie?”
“Yeah, you know, clever, intelligent,” you explained, “a smart cookie.”
Spencer’s a smart cookie.
He’s a smart cookie.
He’s your smart cookie.
Well, technically, he’s not, but you’re the only one that calls him that nickname, not all the time; of course, you still call him by his name, but you also call him smart cookie. He bounces on his feet when you call him that, a little grin on his face as he turns to you, “What’s got you all happy, cookie?”
“Nothing, just happy to see you too,” he responds earnestly.
“I’d hope so; otherwise, this coffee run would’ve been for nothing,” you remark, placing his order on his desk, a smile on your face; then you go to your desk, to the left of him, and across from Morgan - kick your legs up and lean back on your chair.
“What none for me?” Derek pouts.
“Sorry, only deliver to sweetness,” you wink at Spencer, and he grins.
Morgan fakes offense, “Oh, oh, that’s how it’s going to be, alright. Don’t expect me to play middleman with you and Nick again.”
You snort, “Doubt that’s ever going to happen again,” you tell him, “that ship has sailed.” You move your hand through the air, mimicking a wave.
“Nick?” Spencer asks.
“Morgan’s friend, we hooked up a few times, but it never went anywhere,” you reply.
“Yeah, loverboy here did a hell of a job with him, could barely walk the next day, not that he was complaining,” Derek added on, “Said you had quite the package.”
You throw a pen at Derek, tongue stuck out at him, “TMI Derek,” Elle voiced; she’s just arrived, her own coffee in hand, chuckling while she shakes her head.
“I’m just giving performance reviews,” Derek shrugs.
“Oh god,” you laugh.
Spencer feels a little hot under the collar, knocking his knees lightly to keep his imagination at bay - your voice by his ear, hands roaming his body before settling on his hips, his own arms around your shoulder - he shook his head a little, eyes slightly wide as he sipped the coffee.
“You alright there, cookie?”
“I’ve been meaning to ask, what’s with the cookie nickname?” Elle voices.
You shrug, “Spence’s a smart cookie.”
“That’s a weird name,” Derek says.
“I think it’s adorable,” Elle counters.
“Adorable name for an adorable guy,” you wink again, and Spencer looks away, flustered.
“Well, I’m not adorable….adorableness inspires great affection or delight; you use it to describe someone or something that makes you love or like them, usually because they are….” attractive, he wants to say, but that might imply something and people didn’t like it when he implied things. He’d like you to keep liking him.
“You good there, Reid?” Derek’s voice snaps him from his thoughts, and he nods, finishing off with a lesser, more implicating adjective. Attractive, there was a 50% chance you found him attractive, but he couldn’t get all that information out of a singular nickname, let alone a few interactions - you liked his rambles and tangents, that was something, right? You’d made him an origami heart - that he kept tucked away in his journals - and called it a hint.
“No facts for me today, cookie?” You’re parked just further along the street of your target - a suburban house in Atlanta, one car in the driveway, three bedrooms, and the target of your unsub - Hotch and Gideon were on the opposite end of the street, Elle, and Derek were shacked up in the house across from it. JJ and Garcia were back at base.
“Facts?”
You turn to him, “Yeah.” You tilt your head, and he feels something, the little fluttering in his stomach, his hair brushes by his cheek when he tilts his head as well, and before he can reach up to sweep it away, you beat him to it.
“Sorry.”
“No, it’s alright….” Spencer wishes he’d stopped talking right there, that his mouth just shut or Hotch’s voice filtered through earlier before he laid down his knowledge on human touch and then proceeded to end it with the words love hormone - quite the subtle move. On the plane ride back, Reid feels every muscle in his body knot and stiffen as he goes through the interaction in the car; you’re sat beside him, dozing off with your head propped by the wall. He glances over at you every once in a while, faintly touching the side of his head you’d touched, “love hormone,” he whispers to himself.
Dr. Spencer Reid was something else; when you’d joined the BAU, it took some adjusting, your first case in Seattle was a handful, and the unsub - a student advisor - had access to his victims. He’d begun with the Faculty of Arts, and chosen graduate students from each subject, starting alphabetically; he’d only managed two before you’d caught him. You’d learned that Dr. Reid was intelligent, had an impressive memory, and “....I read this from an old thesis in my junior year.” And his voice was really nice.
He seemed to like the nickname smart cookie, bouncing on his feet and grinning when he responds; he does the same when you greet him either way. “What’s got you all happy?” you ask him after a coffee run.
“Nothing,” he responds, “just happy to see you too.”
“I’d hope so. Otherwise, this coffee run would’ve been for nothing,” you remark, placing the warm drink on his desk. Granted, it’s not really a coffee run; you’d only gotten him coffee, mainly for the smile on his face. You turned to your desk across from Morgan.
“What, none for me?” he pouts.
“Sorry, only deliver to sweetness,” you wink at Spencer, who grins in response as Morgan fakes offense, mouth agape.
“Oh, oh, that’s how it’s going to be, alright. Don’t expect me to play middleman with you and Nick again.”
“Nick?” Spencer asks.
Morgan’s friend Nick had been nice; you’d had a double date with Morgan, and one of his dates, then gone on a few more dates and spent a few nights together, but it hadn’t worked out - nothing personal, but that ship had sailed.
“Yeah, loverboy here did a hell of a job with him, could barely walk the next day, not that he was complaining, said you had quite the package,” you threw a pen at Derek, groaning, as Elle regretted walking into work at this moment and hearing the tail end of that conversation. Spencer goes quiet, and his eyes dart away as he sips his drink, a blush creeping along his face.
“You alright there, cookie?” you ask him, and he turns his attention back to you with a small smile.
“I’ve been meaning to ask, what’s with the cookie nickname?” Elle asks; she looks between you and Spencer.
You shrug, “Spence’s a smart cookie.”
“That’s a weird name,” Derek says.
“I think it’s adorable,” Elle counters.
“Adorable name for an adorable guy,” you wink again, and Spencer looks away, flustered.
“Well, I’m not adorable….adorableness inspires great affection or delight; you use it to describe someone or something that makes you love or like them, usually because they are….” he doesn’t finish right away, stalling, as you assume he gathers his words. You’re not sure what he was supposed to say, but you don’t think it was “....small.” Even after, he looks deep in thought, mind wandering away from the present.
You don’t think about it much and proceed with your day; it’s a slow day at the BAU, so paperwork seems to be the main task today, though there’s not much of it, so the majority of the day is spent idling by each other’s desks. You’ve been throwing scrunched-up paper balls at each other; Spencer had started off on the discovery of paper, then its distribution globally, and was now on its more uncommon uses. “....and you could use the paper to make worthless currency.”
“Like Monopoly money?” you question.
“Probably.”
You toss back the paper, and when he catches it this time, he unfolds it and refolds it into a swan, “You can also use it to make origami, though I wouldn’t consider that an uncommon use.”
When he hands you the swan, you take another piece of paper, fold it into a heart, you drop it in his hand, “You can also use it to leave hints,” you say, and he stares down at the heart, rosy-cheeked.
Dr. Reid was also easy to fluster.
“No facts for me today, cookie?” you ask him during surveillance; the house is empty, a decoy set in place to catch the unsub, surrounded on all sides; now all you had to do was wait.
“Facts?” he asks.
“Yeah,” you turn to him, tucking his hair back, his eyes widen again, and a blush runs along his cheeks. You apologize, withdrawing your hand.
“No, it’s alright….touch builds up cooperative relationships and reinforces reciprocity, and studies show that it signifies safety and trust. Basic touch can calm cardiovascular stress and activate the body’s vagus nerve, which is involved with our compassionate response. A simple touch can trigger the release of oxytocin, the, uh, love hormone,” he pauses, “why did I say that?”
“We’ve got movement.” Hotch’s voice interjects before anything else can be said, and you’re both out of the car, guns drawn as you track up to the house. The unsub tries to run back through the back, but Morgan’s waiting for him, knocking him down before he can escape. You don’t stick around in Atlanta, exhausted; you all pile into the plane, and you’re out; you wake to Spencer tapping your shoulder.
You stretch your arms, “Thanks for waking me, cookie.”
“No problem,” he responds.
You’re out the second your head hits the pillow, and wake up uncomfortably in yesterday’s suit. The new apartment looks homier and less empty, with most of your things already set out; you toss the old clothes in the hamper and get ready - shower, teeth, breakfast, and out the door. It’s a warm morning, so you carry your jacket in your hand.
“Damn, loverboy, I didn’t know you had sleeves.” You’d bumped into Derek on the way in, and he’d been immediately drawn to the ink on your arms.
“Oh, these old things,” you quip, “they’re nothing special.”
He whistles, and you lightly smack his arm, “Oh, shut up.” Derek wasn’t the only one taken back by the tattoos; the others were either shocked or intrigued, gathering by your desk to gander at them.
“Never, ever, keep your sleeves down again,” Garcia pleads.
“I’ll try,” you chuckle.
Spencer walks in last and takes a double glance at you, “You have tattoos? Wow,” he pauses, “wow.”
The others soon dissipate, but Spencer lingers a bit, looking between you and the ink; he reaches out but then hesitates, you hold out your arm and nod, and he traces the imagery. “That's one of my favorites,” you comment on the one he’s tracing.
“It’s beautifully detailed,” he observes, “they all are.”
“Thanks, I’ve had them done over the years,” you say. He traces the lines to your fingers, and when he finishes, he moves to the other arm - he gives you facts on the origins of tattoos and asks about some of your tattoos. You get lost in your own world, carrying on with the conversation as you’re called in for a briefing.
“What about this one?”
Spencer fixates on your tattoos, tracing them over and over, eyes following his fingers as they go over the lines again, “My second tattoo, got it a few months after my first one on my birthday.”
“What was your first one?” You’re going through paperwork looking for clues and hints to lead you to the unsub, “It’s a spinal tattoo,” you tell him and his eyes widen, “I can show you if you’re curious.”
He brings a folder to his face, a nervous laugh, and he looks like he’s considering it; he shrugs a little, “Only if you want,” he murmurs.
“Oh, cookie, I could eat you up,” you reply, and he makes a sound of amusement or surprise, or maybe it’s giddiness - as he kicks his legs a bit.
“Hey Morgan, how does dating work?”
Morgan slowly lowers the paper in his hand; it lays on his desk as he leans forward and glances over at Spencer. “Come again?”
“How does dating work?” Spencer repeats, “I assume you’re the most adept at this matter, I mean, I know how it works, but I’m also not…are you alright? Your face is doing —” Spencer gestures uncertainly.
“Just….just savoring this moment, " he replies, smiling, “I know something you don’t,” he cheers.
“I don’t not know about dating, I’m aware of it from societal expectations, facets, and data, but I lack the field experience.”
“Don’t,” Morgan holds his hands up, “don’t ruin the moment,” then he’s back, a smirk on his face; he asks, “Is it loverboy?” Spencer nodded; Morgan clapped his hands, a satisfied grin on his face, “I knew it!” he whispered before returning to the matter at hand, “So,” he cleared his throat, hands together on his desk, “dating.”
“Yes.”
“We’ll start simple; what do you know about dating? Not the facts, just the practical, like have you ever been on a date?”
“No, well, there was this one time I did get asked out by this girl in my class; we decided to go to the local park, but then I overheard her tell her friends it was a prank and they were going to douse me in some concoction, so I didn’t go,” he responds, “does that count?”
Derek shakes his head, “No, it does not, and are you ok?”
“Oh, yeah, it was a long time ago,” he shrugs, “so, what do I do about —” he winds his hands in a circular motion. “Is there a set of words I should say? Are there things I’m expected to do?”
“No, no, look,” Derek replied, “just, he likes you, for you, so don’t worry, just be yourself.”
“Be myself, huh? That’s the first time someone’s said I should do that,” he remarks. “Wait, how do you know he likes me?”
Derek raised an eyebrow, “He looks at you like the sun shines out of your ass,” he responded, “trust me, he likes you.” Spencer would like to believe Derek, and he does, but the little nagging voice in the recess of his mind, he starts wringing his hands a little and runs them along his pants to calm his nerves. “Hey,” Spencer glances up; Derek’s moved from his seat to his desk to his, leaning, “he likes you, ok?”
“How can you be sure?” Spencer purses his lips, twisting the strap of his bag, “He doesn’t deviate from how he acts when he interacts with all of us, he flirts with you just as much as he does with me, and Garcia, and Elle —”
“Why don’t you just ask him,” Derek points to the brief room; you’re currently standing by the door to it in deep conversation with Garcia. Spencer turns back and shakes his head.
“I think he’s busy; I —I’ll do it later.”
Later, in layman’s terms, really meant not ever. Preferably on his deathbed if he had to, but now that he’d asked Derek, any moment he’d look over, Derek would gesture to you, head tilted towards where you’d gone or were. Sometimes he’d mimic movements with his hand - one hand you, the other him, and they’d smoosh together into a kiss - then he’d groan, running a hand down his face when Spencer would shake his head frantically.
He’d like to avoid you and give a chance for the infatuation to die, but either he can’t bring himself to or doesn’t want to. He’s been playing the potential outcomes in his mind, he could confess, get turned down, and you’d remain friends, or he’d confess, get horribly rejected and then never see you again, or he could confess, and you could return the feelings. Considering all the options, he won’t be doing anything; he’ll just let this float away.
“You’re staring, cookie.” It’s the two of you in the kitchenette, no case, just tying up loose ends. “What’s going on in that mind of yours?”
“A potential hypothesis,” he responds.
“Oh yeah, what about?”
“Uh….I’m not sure how to put it into words,” he responds.
“Well, that’s a first,” you laugh, turning away from the kettle heating, “come on, give it a go.”
He nervously rubs his hands together, “Actually….it might be easier if I–I demonstrated it.”
“In the kitchen?” You ask, and he nods, asking you to close your eyes; you raise an eyebrow.
“Just trust me,” he begs, “....please.”
You do so, and there’s a split second where you can hear him mutter to himself - you can do this, come on - there’s a soft push against your lips, and it takes you a moment to realize he’d kissed you, holding your wrist to balance and ground himself, and then it’s gone. Your eyes open, and Spencer’s pursing his lips, hands wrangling more intensely, “R–results?” He’s not just asking; he’s hoping, the subtle worry underneath his voice as he waits for an answer.
You take one of his hands and reel him back in with a slight tug, and he looks so terrified as if bracing himself for the worst, so you kiss him, hoping it displaces any of his fears - Spencer clings to you, even after, your bodies are flush as he hides away in your arms; drawing back every once in a while to look at you, before shying away, a frivolous laugh caught in his throat.
“Good?” You inquire, and he nods.
“Very good.”
End Note:
I apologize profusely for using the word cookie as a nickname for Spencer, but I named the fic and got committed so you get to suffer with me. Stay Hydrated.
#spencer reid x male reader#spencer reid x reader#criminal minds imagine#i spent an hour looking through quotes because big brain said 'start off fic with quote that foreshadows what you're gonna write about'#tattooed!reader#smart cookie universe :)
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this is the job | S.R.
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You and Spencer (almost) get into a fight about the demands of your job.
who? spencer reid x retired!reader
content warnings: takes place before the events of stuck between a rock and a hard place (so like circa 9x20), retired!reader is not actually retired yet, slight bickering, spoilers for season 6 finale (supply and demand), reader is female
word count: 1.13k
a/n: just a little shorty piece about my beloved spencer and retired!reader, im having a lot of fun writing this little vignette style series. i know it's short but the next piece will be long and very hurt/comfort heavy.
When the phone started ringing, you thought it was Spencer’s phone, but after letting it go for a few rings, you begrudgingly realized it was your ringtone. Groaning, you turned in Spencer’s arms and grabbed your phone off of your bedside table before answering the call. “Hello?” You greeted groggily.
There was only one person who would be calling you at two in the morning. Andi Swann’s voice rang through the receiver, “We need you to come in.”
“Now?” You asked, blinking sleep out of your eyes. Next to you, Spencer started to wake up. Using his thumb, he rubbed small, soothing circles over your hip while you talked on the phone.
It was a pointless question, you already knew the answer, and that was why you were already getting out of bed. “Yes, we need to get you out as soon as possible. We might have a lead on The Program.”
You sighed, looking over at Spencer, who was now sitting up, as you nodded, “Okay, I’ll shoot you a text when I’m on my way.” You hung up the phone, setting it back down on the bedside table before you made your way to the closet to retrieve your go bag.
“You’re leaving?” Spencer asked, burning both of your retinas when he leaned over to turn on a lamp.
Hesitantly, you started grabbing clothes out of your side of the dresser. Most of your clothes would be in the apartment that the bureau would set you up in, but you could bring some of your things. Basics, mostly. “Uh, yeah,” you answered.
Peering over at you while you tugged on a pair of jeans, Spencer furrowed his brow. “You just got back,” he responded, getting out of bed himself.
“I know, but that was Andi. She says they might have a lead on The Program, so I have to go in,” You informed him, trying not to topple over while you put your socks on.
Sat on the edge of the bed, your boyfriend leaned back and watched you pack. “I believe the operative word there is ‘might’. Tell them to send someone else,” he urged, not wanting you to leave.
Shaking your head, you zipped your bag shut, “You know they don’t have anyone else.” It was true – you were the only female undercover agent that Swann had.
Spencer clenched his jaw, “I know they don’t have anyone else, that’s part of the problem. They need to hire someone else to split the burden with you, it shouldn’t be all on you.”
“This is my job, Spence. I can’t just tell them I’m not coming in. You drop everything as soon as Hotch calls,” you reminded him.
Reaching out for your hands, Spencer pulled you in, so you were standing between his legs. “Hotch would let me spend a night in my own bed before calling me back in. You got home at ten, baby. It’s been four hours and eight minutes,” he said, keeping his voice low in the dead of the night.
Giving in a little, you leaned into him, “Our jobs are different. We have different demands.” You brushed off his concern. There was at least a part of you that knew he was right. As usual, you called Spencer as soon as you had debriefed with Andi. He picked you up and brought you home.
He placed his hands gently on your waist, “You’re burning the candle at both ends. You don’t eat or sleep enough when you’re undercover, and that won’t do anyone any good.”
Stepping back, you wiped a hand down your face, “I know, but there are so many people out there who need my help. I could save those people.” You bargained with him.
Spencer shook his head, “We’ve spent a total of four nights together this calendar year. It’s April.”
You knew that. You kept track just as much as he did, but that didn’t change the fact that you had a job to do, “You knew the score when you asked me out, Spence.” Your tone was a warning. When he asked you out after you worked with the BAU to rescue Renee Matlin, you warned him that you weren’t around much.
Admittedly, you hadn’t expected to fall in love with him.
Slipping your phone into your back pocket, you inclined your head toward him, “This is the job.” This job was who you were, Spencer knew that just as well as you did.
“This isn’t the job, love. You’re acting like you don’t have an option. It’s almost as if…” his voice trailed off as if he was stopping himself from saying something he’d later regret.
You crossed your arms in front of your chest, “You might as well say it.” Maybe he’d give you a reason to walk out the door.
He shrugged helplessly, “Fine, I think Andi’s taking advantage of your selflessness and your need to please everyone.” He narrowed his gaze, “You were just gone for five weeks, and now you’re leaving again.”
What crushed you the most was that he was right. “I don’t want to let anyone down,” you murmured. Padding over to him, you wrapped your arms around him, holding your breath until he reciprocated. “That includes you,” you admitted, chest tight, “I don’t… I don’t know what to do.”
Taking a deep breath, Spencer smoothed your hair at the back of your head, “You’re gonna go save some lives, because that’s what you do.” His voice was low and steady, “I’ll be here when you get back.”
You jumped when a phone started ringing, this time it actually was Spencer’s.
He picked it up and answered the phone, “Hey,” he greeted, face falling as the other person spoke. “I’ll be right there.”
Eyeing him hesitantly, you saw his entire demeanor change. The BAU had a case. Checking the time, you pulled back, “I should go.”
“Y/N,” he said. “I don’t want to part on bad terms,” he revealed to you as he started to get dressed himself.
Peering up at him, you offered your boyfriend a small smile, “We’re never on bad terms, angel boy.” You were just navigating a complicated relationship.
He raised his eyebrows like that statement surprised him, “but if I’m not going to see you for another month, then we can at least drive in together.”
Sitting down on the edge of the bed, you had already made your decision, “If we drive in together, then I have to call you for a ride when I get back.” You settled your hands in your lap, crossing one leg over the other.
“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Spencer responded, leaning over you to press a gentle kiss to your forehead.
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#criminal minds#spencer reid#criminal minds fanfic#spencer reid fanfic#criminal minds fanfiction#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#written by margot#spencer reid angst#spencer reid fluff#criminal minds angst#criminal minds fluff#spencer reid fanfiction#criminal minds fic#dr spencer reid#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds hurt/comfort#spencer reid hurt/comfort#spencer x retired!reader
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Thunderstorm
Pairing: Spencer Reid x Gender Neutral Reader
Synopsis: Spencer Reid was never a fan of thunderstorms. On one particular night, he woke up to one.
Warning(s): established relationship, mentions and/or depictions of gun violence/injury, protective spencer, parent-child relationships, I think that's it (?) this one is really just fluff wrapped in more fluff 🥰
Word Count: 2400-ish
Author's Note: HELLO! I'm finally back from the dead (yayyy)!! To celebrate, and as we all wait for me to finish rewriting the remaining chapters of love bugs, I'm posting this fic here for you all to enjoy :) I think it's the fluffiest piece I've ever written (srsly, not even a drop of angst!) so I hope you will enjoy! Let me know what you think okkk, don't forget to LIKE+COMMENT+REBLOG if you like this one xx btw I'm pretty sure this can be read as gender neutral reader since I'm positive I didn't use any gender-conforming words, but pls lmk if I'm wrong!
Criminal Minds Masterlist
Spencer hated thunderstorms.
He had many memories of them, not particularly good ones. Most of them involved him being on the field during yet another atrocious case, gun and flashlight in hand, trekking after muddy footsteps that belonged to an UnSub he was chasing.
He had been shot, once, during a thunderstorm. The bullet lodged itself against his bulletproof vest before the perpetrator had received a retaliation shot from Derek's gun. The vest had saved his life that night. The nasty bruise decorating his torso for the following week, though, served as a sufficient reminder in Spencer's mind.
Thunderstorms were a natural enemy whenever he was on the field. Unfortunately for him, the rivalry seemed to continue past the doorstep of his home, too.
Back when sleep was a luxury that he had to scour and cherish, thunderstorms would be the antagonist that kept the two even further apart. The sound of heavy rain against windows was a line of needles prickling into his circadian rhythm, erasing any possibilities of sleep if he was even lucky enough to have them in the first place.
On those nights, Spencer would sit against the headboard with a book in his lap, hoping that the passage detailing the fall of Joseon Dynasty in Korean Peninsula--or the rise or Majapahit Empire in the island of Java, whichever had caught his interest more at that specific moment in time--would be enough distraction to take his mind off the disaster wreaking havoc outside of his apartment.
Thanks to years of therapy, Spencer now had found it easier to chase sleep whenever he needed it. Still, its sweet relief stood no chance against the chaos brought by a raging thunderstorm.
This time, too, was no different.
Spencer had been dreaming. A land of reverie where his tongue had tasted honey, where his nose had recognized the hint of mint and juniper berry before the image was rattled by a high-pitched shriek in the sky.
When Spencer opened his eyes, the bedroom was enveloped in a near state of total darkness.
The sharp cry he heard had come from a lightning that struck momentarily before he woke up. Five seconds later, another one struck again, sending a jolt of adrenaline through Spencer's body as he waited for the imminent thunder to shatter the atmosphere.
Spencer shut his eyes in an attempt to get his racing heart back under control. Once he opened them again, the remnants of sleep had washed away from his pupils, allowing him to take in the empty bed, the chill bedroom, and the opened door right across from where he was sitting.
Frowning, Spencer thought back to a few hours prior. How he had promptly retired to the bedroom after coming home from work. He remembered clearly--courtesy of his eidetic memory--having slammed the door shut before he got ready for bed.
A creak in the floorboards outside his bedroom door compelled Spencer to reach into the bedside drawer, fingers inching nearer to where the secret holster of his gun was located.
Before his hand could wrap around the weapon, the bedroom door was pushed ajar, revealing a familiar figure standing in the doorway, outline cast by a hazy kind of luminance.
Spencer breathed out a sigh of relief. "I thought you were an intruder."
You raised an eyebrow at his statement. A playful smile sweetened by the gentle glow radiating off the flickering candle in your hand.
"It's just me," you assured him, finally stepping into the threshold and placing the candle on top of the dresser.
"I can see that." He watched you approaching, gaze never straying even when you picked up the comforter a tiny bit to slip back into bed. "Where did you go?"
"Went down to check the breaker. Power's out completely, by the way. Looks like the storm took out the whole block."
He made a disapproving face at your response. "You were in the basement? Alone?"
Your forehead furrowed at the tone of Spencer's voice. It wasn't until you glimpsed the telltale sign of worry in his eyes that your shoulders eventually deflated. "I'm okay, Spencer."
"Why didn't you wake me?"
"Because," you began, an amused smile threatening to split your face into two, "it's a three flights of stairs walk from our bedroom, darling. I think I can manage it just fine."
"But--"
"Besides," you cut him off, silencing him with a gentle palm pressing on his cheek. Spencer instantly melted at the contact. "I know how you get during nights like this. I wanted to let you have as much sleep as you could before the storm eventually wakes you up."
His hand circled around your wrist, then, bringing it upwards so that he could leave tiny kisses on your palm before he entwined his fingers with yours. "You still should've woken me up."
"Spence--"
"I know, I know. You could've done it yourself, I don't doubt it. I just--" he paused, swallowing a lump before continuing, "--I could've just waited here. In the bedroom. But in case anything happened, I would've been there for you."
The admission was quiet within the four walls of your bedroom. You knew that Spencer's plea had nothing to do with a toxic need to be controlling. Instead, it had stemmed from the vulnerability within. A naked truth that nestled in the deepest corners of Spencer Reid's soul.
The years that you had spent together allowed you to understand Spencer at a level nobody else could. They allowed you to understand that this silly request was nothing more than a fruit of his vigilant bones, forged consistently throughout his years in law enforcement. Spencer Reid, underneath his soft eyes and tender touches, had witnessed all of the gruesome layers of the world, lost far more things than anyone ever should.
It was only logical, now that Spencer had you in his life--a miraculous reprieve to his otherwise ghastly world--he would spend every waking moment to do everything in his power to make sure you were safe.
Always.
With this knowledge in mind, you couldn't, in good conscience, bring yourself to deny Spencer's plea, no matter how foolish it might seem.
What you did, instead, was shifting yourself closer to his body, seeking permission with your eyes before you leaned forward for a quick kiss.
"I'm sorry, darling," you offered sincerely. "I'll keep that in mind for next time, yeah? How does that sound?"
The relief was blinding as it washed over Spencer's whole being. "Thank you," he muttered before kissing your knuckles. "And I'm sorry, too, for being like this."
You shook your head firmly. Not because you didn't accept his apology, but because you didn't need one. Spencer didn't have anything to apologize for.
When you told him as much, Spencer's only reply was to press his lips to yours.
You were rendered pliant underneath his ministrations, your body molding into his as if you were two fabrics cut from the same cloth. Spencer poured all of his emotions into the kiss. Wishing--begging--that you could taste just how consuming the love he harbored for you was. The same way he could taste your heart beneath the hint of honey on your lips.
Once breathing became a chore, Spencer took the heavy decision to pull away, settling for resting his forehead on top of yours instead.
"Do you wanna go back to sleep?" you whispered.
Spencer wanted to nod, feeling a huge load pressing on every inch of muscle in his body. But before he could take you up on the offer, a distant sound between the roaring of thunders caught his attention, stopping his words right in their tracks.
"Did you hear that?" Spencer asked.
"Hear what?" You frowned. "The thunder?"
"No." He rushed to get up from the bed, gaze apologetic as he looked at you from the doorway. "Stay here? I'll be back soon."
Soft footsteps trudged along the landing of your two story house, leading Spencer towards another door located right by the stairs. He knocked slowly on the wooden door, twice, before pushing it open with a gentle nudge of his hip.
The room he entered was smaller than the room he shared with you. During the days, the windows on the far end of the wall would offer a mesmerizing view of the creek that ran along the backside of the neighborhood. During nights like this, however, they merely provided another harsh peek at the tantrum that mother nature was throwing against the world.
Although the room was swallowed in darkness, Spencer could still make out the silhouettes inside. From the haphazardly scattered toys on the floor, the colorful drawings taped on the walls, even to the lavender-colored furniture that seemed to fill every available corner in the entire space.
Amongst them all, the one silhouette that managed to pull at Spencer's heartstrings was the one curled up on the center of the bed. A usually joyous sunshine, reduced to a whimpering ball under a cotton unicorn-themed blanket.
"Princess."
Spencer tugged the blanket down, revealing misty eyes and pouting lips on a face he held dearly. A sob managed to wreck itself out of the little girl's chest, plummeting Spencer's heart further down the abyss of no end.
"Oh, sweetheart."
He gathered the 4-year-old in his arms, feeling her immediately hugging his neck. Her body was still shivering with tiny whimpers and sobs, all of which Spencer tried to subside gently by constant strokes down her back.
"It's okay. You're okay," he shushed quietly, rocking his body to a phantom tune while she clung to his chest. "Do you wanna tell me what's going on?"
The girl sniffled aloud before lifting her head, her tiny hands rubbing rigorously on the tear stains around her eyes.
"The-the thunders," she murmured. "It was so loud. I woke up and everything was d-dark. Daddy, I'm scared!"
She threw her arms around his neck again, crying softly into the collar of his sleeping shirt. Spencer tightened his embrace around his daughter, heart breaking into pieces with every tear shed from her innocent eyes.
"Sshh, it's alright, princess. Everything's alright. Daddy's here now," Spencer cooed. "Do you wanna sleep with us tonight? Hm?"
His daughter started to nod frantically. "Don't forget Mr. Elphie, Daddy."
Chuckling, Spencer quickly grabbed the elephant stuffed animal lying next to her pillow. "Of course not. Mr. Elphie is coming with us, isn't he?"
Spencer began to retreat back in the direction of your bedroom, all the while conversing with his little girl to keep her mind off the storm that was still raging wildly outside.
You were checking something on your phone by the time Spencer finally returned. Immediately, you tossed the device aside once you saw him, eyes widening in concern when you saw your daughter's limbs entangled around Spencer's form.
"What happened?" you asked.
Spencer headed for the bed, slowly putting down the little girl who instantly cuddled your side after he had tucked her under the duvet.
"The thunders are scary," your daughter mumbled into the fabric of your shirt.
Your eyes flicked towards Spencer, who gave a single nod of confirmation before settling back on his side of the bed.
"Oh, honey. I'm so sorry." You brushed back the hair from her face, taking in the sight of your favorite pair of eyes that seemed to have lost their usual sparkles in the wake of her tears. "What do you wanna do, hun? Should I tell you a story? Play a little music?"
"I wanna sleep here with you and Daddy," she said in a shaky voice. "Is that okay?"
Kissing the crown of her head, you answered, "Of course it's okay, sunshine. Come here."
Your daughter fell back into your awaiting arms. Her small frame fitting so easily into the front side of your body. You watched as her tiny fingers clutched Mr. Elphie tighter, breath evening out while her face burrowed even deeper into your chest.
It felt as if hours had passed before you could find the will to rip your gaze away. In all honesty, you could probably have spent an entire eternity staring at the little miracle in your arms had the universe given you the chance. When you lifted your head, your eyes automatically locked with Spencer's, who looked as if he, too, had been entranced by the sight in front of him.
"She's incredible," Spencer confessed into the night, voice fragile with the weight of awe it seemed to carry. "I can't believe she's ours."
You extended your hand towards him, smiling brightly once Spencer secured it in his own.
"Seems like the apple doesn't fall far from the tree," you mused, eyes glinting mischievously from the knowledge that your daughter--just like her beloved Daddy--also had a fear of thunderstorms. "Like father like daughter, huh?"
Spencer rolled his eyes. "I'm not scared of thunderstorms. I'm just... not fond of them"
"Uh-huh."
"Shut up." He bit your knuckles playfully, seemingly pleased with himself when he managed to elicit a laugh out of your chest. "Go get some sleep. You have an early day tomorrow."
"Speak for yourself, Mister." You settled your head back on the pillow, Spencer mirroring your position without breaking his hold around your hand. "Where are you going again?"
"Florida. Miami."
"Damn," you muttered, temporarily panicking about your terrible choice of words before calming back down once you saw your daughter sleeping soundly. "I bet it's nice there this time of year."
"It's Miami. The weather barely changes there all year-round."
"Exactly my point."
"Besides," Spencer added, squeezing your hand once, "it's not a vacation. It doesn't matter where I'm going, I'll only be seeing dead bodies all day long."
"Okay. I really don't need to start seeing corpses in my head right before going to sleep, so thanks for that."
"You started it."
"I most certainly did not." You scoffed. "I'm not liking this conversation. Now, can we please go to sleep?"
Spencer had a retort ready on the tip of his tongue. But once he saw how peaceful you looked with your eyes closed, entangled as one with your daughter, he decided against it.
At last, he opted to shuffle closer on the bed until he could wrap his arm around the two of you, letting the scent of mint from your shampoo and juniper berry from your daughter's body wash to wrap around his whole being.
Spencer was still not a fan of thunderstorms.
But on nights like this, he had to begrudgingly admit that maybe, maybe, they weren't really that bad after all.
#spencer reid#dad spencer reid#spencer reid x gn!reader#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid self insert#spencer reid smut#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid angst#spencer reid one shot#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid fic#spencer reid fanfiction#criminal minds#criminal minds fandom#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds x you#criminal minds x y/n#criminal minds self insert#criminal minds imagine#criminal minds smut#criminal minds fluff#criminal minds angst#criminal minds oneshot#criminal minds fic#criminal minds fanfiction#matthew gray gubler#mgg#mgg x reader
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Quiet
Spencer Reid x Dissabled!Reader
Reader has Functional Neurological Disorder (FND) / Non-Epileptic Attack Disorder (NEAD)
Fluff
A/N; I personally have both the conditions in this so the described seizure experience is based of my own seizures, what spencer does during a seizure is what you should do during a seizures but for actual seizure first aid tips / instructions look here its specifically for epilepsy but also works for non epileptic seizures. I may do more of a specific post on my own conditions not in a story format.
SR masterlist
masterlist
“You okay today love? You seem quiet” Penelope asks you. “I'm fine pen don't worry, just think I've got a migraine coming on I'm going to go hide out in my office.” you assure her and walk over towards Rossi’s old office. Hotch had offered it to you and Reid to share when he had retired, knowing the darker and quieter room would help your migraines but Hotch knew you wouldn't want to be alone given the risk of seizures.
You were technically in the field but didn't stray from the police stations and were paired with a team member at all times, oftentimes it was JJ or Spencer. You didn't have seizures when you first started at the BAU. They had started after you had been sent into a building that had been cleared by SWAT but when you opened the cupboards it had been rigged with a small explosive connected to the outside water heater. Leading to the death of three agents and Functional Neurological Disorder for you. Hotch had offered you retirement or the half in half out field option providing you were cleared by your doctor and you took the latter, not ready to retire at twenty eight.
It wasn't just the seizures they were just the most prominent symptom, you had dystonia, muscle weakness, paralysis and balance issues. As a result you used different mobility aids depending on the day from a wheelchair to a cane, penelope had given you some colourful canes as a christmas gift the year you started using them. Mentally it was tough but it got easier seeing how no one from the team batted an eyelid. Morgan, Hotch and Rossi all helped to convert the cottage you had brought just before the accident to make it wheelchair friendly. Spencer let you stay at his as the elevator worked in his apartment building while that was being done. Hotch also made sure the office was converted slightly to be accessible to you, removing the steps in the office and turning them into a low ramp.
Spencer knew something was up when you stood up and nearly fell straight over your own feet, so he decided to head up to his office to see what was up. He grew more worried when you paused mid way through shuffling files and quickly realised it was the sign of an impending seizure. Rushing over to the door he pushes it open and strides across the room to grab both your shoulders for when you did fall. You looked up at him but you didn't quite look anywhere, you always looked very far away and your pupils were blown wide right before a seizure began, he knew that but it didn't make it any less scary. “Allright, to the floor sweetheart cmon.” he gently pulls you towards the floor as your hand starts twitching, another indication a seizure is imminent. Once he had you on the floor and on your side he pulled his jacket off to place under your head. “Alright honey I've got you it's okay.” He moves the hair out of your face as the seizure takes hold. He glances at his watch to make a note of the time before going back to comfort you again.
For you the post seizure experience was the worst, you woke up aching from head to toe, often had dislocations in various joints, your memory was foggy at best and you woke up to unfamiliar faces and surroundings on multiple occasions. You also woke up to the taste of iron from biting your tongue. You had choked on your own blood post seizure after people had just left you on your back.
It wasn't like that with Spencer however, sure the fogginess was still there, the dislocations and the blood but he didn't let you panic as you woke up. He kept you in place so you didn't displace anything further. “Okay sweetheart, It's just me alright, it's just Spencer, we are just in our office i've got you.” You relaxed back against him, exhaustion taking over you. “I'm going to just put your joints back in and put you on the sofa okay darling?” He learnt how to relocate most of the joints that could easily dislocate so he could do it for you post seizure.
He sat in front of the sofa as he read while you slept just in case you seized again. He had pulled the blinds and text Hotch what had happened so no one would come in to say goodbye like normal.
Once you did wake and Spencer had deemed you okay enough to walk with him to the car you headed home together, him driving you. He had taken to giving you lifts since your diagnosis, the others also offered, Garcia and Hotch especially but more often than not you ended up in Spencer's car with your aids folded into the trunk.
You ended up back at your place given it was all one floor and it was entirely suited to your needs. No matter how much you insisted you were fine now he practically ordered you to sit on the couch and find a movie while he found stuff for dinner.
Once he finally joined you on the sofa with an edible meal, you settled in together watching history documentaries and foreign films you couldn't really understand but Spencer explained to you. Eventually you ended up with his arm resting around you with your head on his chest as you both fell asleep.
#greyswritings#spencer reid fluff#criminal minds#criminal minds x reader#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid
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Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader
Drabble: Did he have passion?
The team is at Gideons cabin after his murder. Takes place in season 10 episode “Nelson’s Sparrow”
authors note: I haven’t written anything in years and had some motivation while watching criminal minds.
She walked outside the house onto the porch and place her hands in her pockets to hide them from the chill in the air. Spencer was standing outside looking into the trees. While she didn’t join the BAU until a few years after Gideons retirement, she knew he meant the world to Spencer. She knew he was his mentor and how close they were. She knew that when he left, the only goodbye he gave to the team, was a letter addressed to Spencer.
Every so often Spencer would talk about Gideon. Either recounting memories of his chess skills or previous cases he worked on. She was aware of his impact and achievements while working for the bureau, but she never met him.
She saw him wipe his face with his hands. For while she didn’t say anything to him. She was never one with words at a time like this, but after some thinking she found some, or more so someone else’s words.
“Hey Spence,” she calmly greeted when she walked up to him. He turned to look at her and he noticed she was also observing the birds in the trees as he just was.
A quiet “hi” escaped his lips. After a lingering moment he looked back at the woods.
“Do you remember that movie I showed you? Serendipity?” She asked.
His eyebrows furrowed and thoughts brought back to the present moment at her random question. “Of course,” he answered.
Of course he remembered watching that movie, and of course he remembers all the words said in it, but she recited it to him anyway.
“Towards the end of the movie, Jonathan’s best friend who writes obituaries for the times, he says “the Greeks didn't write obituaries. They only asked one question after a man died, Did he have passion?"
“Actually that most likely wasn’t true. Passion while a highly valued aspect of life in ancient Greece, it is unknown . . . “
“Spencer,” she interrupted once again in a calming tone.
He abruptly stopped his tangent and turned his face to her. He was met with her eyes starring back at him. “While I adore your tangents, humor me.” She turned her whole body to face him giving him her whole undivided attention. “Did Jason Gideon have passion?”
Spencer let the question linger in his mind. At the sound of chirping and shaking of leaves and branches he thought of birds. Gideon had a passion for birds. He possessed pictures and paintings of them. Gideon had a passion for chess. Spencer had frequently played with him.
He thought of the book he had just stuffed in his pocket, Gideons book and a passage he had just recently recited. Gideon had a passion for Sarah. She was very important to him and held a very special place in his heart.
His thoughts wandered to the other people in the book. Victims that Gideon saved from previous cases. Gideon had passion for his job. A passion for protecting and saving those who had been hurt by others. To save and protect life. Save someone’s child, parent, sibling, best friend, neighbor, coworker, lover.
Spencer took a deep shaky breath as a tear rolled down his cheek. She reached her hand up to cup his face and wiped her thumb across his cheek where his tears had fallen. He gently grabbed onto her wrist that was held up
He quietly spoke with a small crack in his voice.
“He did.”
#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#criminal minds#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid drabble#spencer reid headcanon#criminal minds fanfiction
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When Was It Over? | Spencer Reid x F! Reader
(Based off of Taylor Swift’s “Is It Over Now?”Full oneshot posted here, and take this link to my masterlist)
- - - - -
After dinner, the two of you retire in the living room where you take your usual spot on the couch. Your favorite blanket is draped over the back and you pull it over you, but your heart stops once it lands in your lap.
Woven into the fabric of the blanket is a blonde hair. And it most certainly isn't yours. No, the color is wrong and it's not the right length. Your eyes are glued to the hair, blood ice in your veins and chest sore from devastation.
"What is this?" Your voice is oddly even and calm given the situation. Spencer's mouth opens and closes a few times before he clears his throat and answers you.
"Who is she?" You ask, pushing the blanket off of you and standing from the couch.
- - - - -
You're pulling the man in by the front of his shirt, crashing his lips onto yours. His hands hold your waist securely, and his lips move in tandem with your own. The taste of sweetness lingers between the two of you. Your body moves on its own volition, and in the heat of the moment you find yourself practically sitting in the man's lap.
Thankfully, the table you two are at is tucked away in the corner, but you're still entirely visible to everyone else, but that doesn't seem to matter as you place kisses on the man's jaw and down to his neck.
His hands move from your waist up to the first button of your shirt where he expertly undoes it. Your wet lips place another kiss on the man's neck, just underneath his ear like you're used to doing with someone else, and the feeling of another button being undone makes you realize what's happening.
Backing away from the kiss abruptly, your heart drops to your stomach. Your fingers work quickly to clasp the buttons on your shirt and you get off of the man, who looks confused and hurt.
"I'm sorry, I can't- I shouldn't have..." You trail off, giving him no specific answer as you turn around and find your friend.
That night, all you can think about is Spencer and how in love you two used to be. And you can’t help but wonder if tonight was the final nail in the coffin.
#spencer x reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid oneshot#spencer reid angst#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid fanfic#hurt/no comfort#angst#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds fanfic#criminal minds#mgg#spencer reid
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The Goodness, Love
Song Fic Inspired by the line: "Do you know I could break beneath the weight of the goodness, love, I still carry for you?" from 'Unknown/Nth' by Hozier
Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x BAUfem! Reader
Category: Angst/Fluff
TW: mentions of when Hotch and Jack were in witsec due to threats from Mr. Scratch, insecurities, cursing, consumption of alcohol by legal adults
~ "Do you know I could crash beneath the weight of the goodness, love, I still carry for you?" - Hozier ~
Having to stay in hiding due to the threat of Peter Lewis wasn't the ideal way to go about it, but it did mean that Aaron Hotchner got to finally be a stay-at-home dad to Jack. And, despite the fact that Peter Lewis was no longer a threat, the benefit of the time in WITSEC meant that Aaron was able to realize that that was exactly the life that he wanted to be living. Fortunately, his team being the amazing family that they are, completely understood. In fact, David Rossi insisted upon throwing him a going-away party. Rossi's house is stunning, as always, and the team really loves any opportunity to dress up and celebrate.
"Proud of you, you know?" Rossi says as he hands Aaron a whiskey soda.
"For finally retiring?" Aaron asks, smiling and taking the drink.
"For recognizing when it's healthy to step away," Emily Prentiss answers for Rossi, stepping up to the two of them.
"You're just saying that because you're in charge now," Aaron jokes.
Emily laughs and grins, "A little bit, but, no, really, boss. It's good for you. You look healthier than you have in years."
"Yeah?" Aaron nods. Emily is called away by Will and Aaron mutters to himself, "I wish everyone thought that."
"She definitely does, Aaron," David replies quietly, glancing as nonchalantly as possible over to you.
You, who hasn't yet spoken to Aaron other than a small wave and a "hi" when he'd gone into the office to formally resign. But you haven't spoken, not really. You'd entered the party - looking, in Aaron's opinion, rather ridiculously stunning in a deep, crimson summer evening dress that fits you just right, the just above ankle length skirt's ends fluttering in the breeze every so often - and murmured a shy and deeply impersonal, "congratulations, Hotch" before moving to the drinks table with JJ and Will. And this would've been entirely innocuous if you hadn't called him "Hotch".
Hotch.
Not what you'd typically call him. Not what he wants you to call him. No, he wants to return to the fondness and closeness the two of you had when he was on the team. But he doesn't know how to do that. And it seems as though you might not want to. He wasn't your boyfriend...he wasn't even close to that, but GOD he'd wanted to be. He still wants to be. He'd be happy to hold you in any capacity you'd be comfortable with, but this? This awkward and uncomfortable avoidance...this abject silence on which you've landed... It's almost too much to bear. Ever since they’d gone into WITSEC, Aaron’s heart had felt heavy. He’d thought it was because of Peter Lewis, but it’s still heavy now that they’re out of hiding. He's thrilled - beyond thrilled, really - to become a stay-at-home dad, but he knows he's leaving a whole lifetime of things behind. And if that includes you? He's not sure he'll be able to live with it.
"Hey," Spencer says, entering Dave's backyard. "Sorry, I'm late." Spencer gives Aaron a small hug and hands Dave a bottle of wine he brought.
"No worries," Dave assures him. "Tara's still running late."
"I'm sure," Spencer nods knowingly, straightening his navy blue cardigan, "traffic's dreadful."
"Hey, Spencer," you call jovially, waving to him from next to JJ. He beams and crosses to you, wrapping you in a huge hug.
And the ever so slight intimacy of this, the fact that he feels as though he could kill for a greeting like that from you makes Aaron almost throw up.
~~~
"Wondered where you'd run off to," your voice interrupts his thoughts. Aaron turns from where he's sitting, poised on the end of Dave's desk, staring out at his gorgeous view. The lawn, where the rest of the party was still taking place, wasn't visible from this window, which meant no one could see Aaron either, as he intended.
"I just, um, needed a breather," he lies uncomfortably. He feels like a coward for running away, but he could almost feel himself turning green as you greeted Spencer and then Tara with more affection than he dared to hope for since your slight coldness toward him had started. And a lawn full of profilers was hardly the audience to attempt to hide from.
"Sure," you say, and he tries not to take in your every move as you cross into the room, sitting down at Dave's desk, Aaron's back almost entirely to you. Neither of you says anything and it's just long enough that it would be almost more uncomfortable to break the silence.
Still, the silence feels like drowning. He wishes you could anchor him somehow. He can feel you staring at him, but can't bring himself to turn and face you. He needs you, but he almost can't bear it. He can't remember an uncomfortable silence with you because there never were any. Moments between the two of you were filled with work - he honestly had felt as though you could read his mind when the two of you were solving cases together - or easy conversation and laughter - he'd never known such a simple, straightforward comfort with anyone - or comfortable, companionable silence. Completely unlike this.
"It's a little odd, though," you break the silence, your voice, if Aaron's not mistaken, nearly cracking with the effort.
"What is?" he asks, barely looking over his shoulder, not sure his heart can make it if he sees you.
"You needing a breather from the people you're leaving behind," you almost whisper.
His brain is fully in control, ignoring the panging of his heart as he stands and turns to face you.
"Leaving behind?" he almost sputters.
You look away from him, biting your lip. You look almost ashamed, "Sorry, that's unfair."
"I'm not-"
You continue like he isn't speaking, standing from Dave's desk, still not looking Aaron in the eyes, "I know that Peter Lewis was...beyond anything really. And I know that Jack is the most important thing in the world and should be that's not wrong of you, and-"
Aaron crosses to your side of the desk, trying to "I'm not leav-"
"And I know that you have always gone above and beyond in this position and I know that you have lost...you have lost so much more than you deserved to lose, but-"
He steps closer, "I'm not leaving-"
"But...it's so terribly, terribly selfish of me, but Hotch I can't bear the thought of the BAU without you and...and while you were gone, it was hell. I was so worried about you and...and..."
You stop, taking a staggering breath. Aaron stops, just a breath away from you now.
"Aaron," he whispers when you don't start speaking again.
Your eyes, previously determinedly staring at his shoes, immediately jump to meet his own, "What?"
"You call me Aaron," he explains. "Not Hotch, never Hotch. Not from you, I can't...I can't bear it from you."
You swallow, but don't look away, "I...I couldn't call you Aaron. Not while you were gone."
"Why?" he asks, his hands itching to pull you to him, to take your hands, anything.
"Because," you rasp, a small tear falling down your cheek, "if something bad happened to you, I would never have to say that something bad happened to Aaron...to my Aaron."
"Your Aaron?" he asks, his voice barely above a breath, reaching up and wiping another tear as it rolls down your cheek, his hands awkwardly returning to his sides when he’s done.
"Yes," you reply. "And...now that you're leaving I can...it's so stupid, but I don't have to goodbye to...to my Aaron."
He stares down at you, not quite sure how to say what he needs to and knowing full well he can’t get through it without crying.
“I’m not leaving…” he starts, trailing off because he is leaving the BAU, but he begins again fairly easily, shocking for how heavy his heart feels, “I mean I’m leaving-I’m leaving the BAU. But I-I’m not leaving you. If you don’t want me to, that is.”
You stare at him, eyes wide as though you hadn’t expected it. Aaron doubles down, finding the strength to take your hands despite the shaking of his own.
“Because the thing is,” he continues, his voice barely above a whisper, so quiet he almost can’t hear it over how loud his heart is beating. “The thing is…is that I-I really rather like the idea of being yours. A-and if it suits you…I want you to be mine, too.”
You’re quiet still for only a moment before a tiny smile breaks over your lips, “Really?”
“Of course,” he sighs, his hands rushing to cup your jaw, “I-I’m so sorry I didn’t make that clear, but I would…I don’t think I’d be happy without you in my life.”
“I thought you…” you trail off, looking slightly embarrassed. “I was sure you’d forget about me.”
“Forget about you?” Aaron nearly laughs. “Oh, oh my girl, my heart would never let me forget you. It’s been carrying on without you for too long.”
You stare at him, a huge smile growing on your lips, “Well, then… I guess we’ll have to fix that.”
And as your lips brush against his for the first time, it’s as though the weight is finally lifted and Aaron’s heart feels lighter than it has in months.
~~~
~ You were like an angel to me.” - Hozier ~
Taglist: @shadyladyperfection @cielo1984 @rainsong01 @pessimystic-fangirl @saspencereid @andreasworlsboring101 @avidreider @aizawaxkun @babyspencersslut @no-honey-no @andrewhoezierbyrne @subhuman-queer @ncsls0515 @uhuhuh @whatamidoinghp @spongeshxt @itsametaphorbriansblog @vgirl-10123 @stand-tall-pineapple @padsfirewhisky @ceeellewrites @dahliasbouqet @drayshadow @cal-ifornication-blog @theetherealbloom @eevee0722 @questionmymentality @wintermuteway @ellesmythe @mac99martin @ssa-githae @cherrystay @calm-and-doctor @icedcoffee187 @devilswaldorf @annemijnisdancing @half-blood-dork @blameitonthenight21 @happyreid187 @goldeng1rl8 @meangirlsx @honestlystop @lastpasttheposts @avengers-ass-emble17 @bauhousewife @averyhotchner @underscorecourt @fan-girl-97 @coolbeans3 @boxofsparklingmuses @allaboutsml @ssareidbby @percabethfangirl @buckyluvbot @v-is-obsessive @tanyaherondale @usuck @mitchiri-nek0 @kaitlynpcallmebeepme @miraclesoflove @meganskane @babymetaldoll @ivebeenthinkingboutu @rockin2thebeats @infinite-tides @onlyhereforthefanfics @g-l-pierce @thisiscalm-andits-doctor @art-and-thoughts @exhaleli @allthecolorsneverseen @measure-in-pain @acidicbloody @hotchnerxo @her-storybooks @skyewardolicitycloisdelena91 @bilesxbilinskixlahey @wilbur-rabbit @twilightlover2007 @ssamorganhotchner @h0tch-r0cket @wheelsupkels @jhiddles03 @lovesammikinzz @scargarcia-magshotchner @chaoticconnoisseurgiver @baueoud @mischiefmanaged71 @gspenc @spottedzebrasinpartyhats @kajjaka @chickensrule @marvel-mars @wanniiieeee @gublur @rousethemouse @unionjackpillow @thisiscalmanditsdoctorreid @meowiemari
#aaron hotchner#hotch#ssaaaronhotchner#aaron hotchner x reader#hotch x reader#aaron x reader#aaron hotchner x you#aaron hotchner x fem!reader#aaron hotchner x BAUfem!reader#aaron hotchner fluff#aaron hotchner fanfiction#criminal minds#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds fluff#aaron hotchner angst#aaron hotchner comfort#aaron hotchner song fic
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the 'magic, madness, heaven, sin' collection
summary: 16 oneshots, each based on songs from '1989' in anticipation of 1989 (taylor's version).
pairing: spencer reid x reader AND steve harrington x reader
category: fluff, smut, angst, hurt/comfort
a/n: we're back at it again, folks! first we celebrated red (taylor's version), and now it's 1989's turn. i will be releasing one oneshot every week until release day. this was really fun, as 1989 has quickly become a favorite of mine.
important taglist update: due to this including an update every day, i don't want to spam my normal taglist. so, i made a new taglist specifically for this collection. if you want to me tagged in the fics for this, please fill out the taglist form here.
masterlist
➼ welcome to new york (steve harrington x gn!reader, fluff)
“everybody here was someone else before and you can want who you want...”
when native new yorker reader finds out their partner has never seen new york, they’re determined to show him only the best.
➼ we never go out of style (spencer reid x fem!reader, smut)
“and i should just tell you to leave 'cause i know exactly where it leads...”
in which spencer has the same stop each time they have a case in los angeles.
➼ are we out of the woods? (spencer reid x fem!reader, smut, angst no happy ending)
“the rest of the world was black and white but we were in screaming color...”
they know their relationship was meant to crash and burn, but they keep falling back together.
➼ i know places (we won’t be found) (steve harrington x fem!reader, hurt/comfort)
“they take their shots, but we're bulletproof...”
in which reader and steve are scrutinized by his parents and hawkins for dating, and they risk losing it all.
➼ all you had to do was stay (spencer reid x gn!reader, angst with happy ending)
“why'd you have to go and lock me out when I let you in?”
spencer has a habit of pushing people away when things get tough—reader won’t make it easy for him.
➼ shake it off (spencer reid x gn!reader, hurt/comfort)
“it's like i got this music in my mind saying it's gonna be alright...”
spencer can’t stand when reporters spreads rumors about his partner in the news—they prove to him it doesn’t matter.
➼ i wish you would (steve harrington x gn!reader, angst with happy ending)
“wish you knew that i miss you too much to be mad anymore...”
years after the breakup, reader realizes everything they missed.
➼ you are in love (spencer reid x gn!reader, fluff)
“and for once, you let go of your fears and your ghosts...”
everyone knows that spencer and reader are best friends—everyone but them knows they both want something more.
➼ bad blood (spencer reid x gn!reader, angst with happy ending)
“did you think we'd be fine? still got scars on my back from your knife...”
spencer immediately said he had no feelings for cat adams, so why was he kissing her outside of your shared apartment?
➼ wildest dreams (spencer reid x fem!reader, smut, angst with hopeful ending)
“say you'll see me again even if it's just pretend...”
retired fbi agent spencer meet actress reader, who he’s been assigned to protect after threats were made against her.
➼ we found wonderland (spencer reid x gn!reader, hurt/comfort)
“all alone, or so it seemed but there were strangers watching, and whispers turned to talking and talking turned to screams...”
a story of an fbi agent falling in love with a senator: it’s as messy as it seems.
➼ this love is good(bad) (spencer reid x fem!reader, angst with happy ending)
“these hands had to let it go free, and this love came back to me...”
a sequel to ‘wildest dreams’, reader comes to terms with losing spencer and he realizes he never should have left.
➼ new romantics (steve harrington x fem!reader, smut)
“every day is like a battle but every night with us is like a dream...”
she was the last person steve thought he would fall for.
➼ finally clean (steve harrington x gn!reader, hurt/comfort)
“just because you're clean, don't mean you don't miss it...”
after the upside down is finished, you help steve heal.
➼ and i’ll write your name (spencer reid x fem!reader, smut)
“it'll leave you breathless or with a nasty scar...”
to him, she’s the agent everyone told him to stay away from. to her, he’s the bad boy agent whose team has never had to follow the rules.
➼ how you get the girl (steve harrington x fem!reader, fluff)
“and now you say i want you for worse or for better...”
in which the party takes matters into their own hands when you and steve won't confess your feelings for each other.
#spencer reid#steve harrington#spencer reid x reader#steve harrington x reader#criminal minds#stranger things
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