#Spencer would do this or Spencer would be like this

[rynbutt]

safe. | spencer reid.

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

my masterlist!

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

wc: 6.2k

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

now playing... Fare Well by Hozier

This was really starting to piss you off.

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

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

Because you swore this baby had it out for you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“...How far along are you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Could be a stalker?” Penelope suggested.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Flare-ups?” David asked pointedly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mrs Harvey?” You asked, panting softly.

“Yes?”

“Is your son Peter here?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Move,” he grunted, his eyes glassy.

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

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

“It was an accident,” you replied softly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, Morgan, you don’t understand–”

“We’re going to get an ambulance–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You grinned at him, “Hi, Derek.”

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

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

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

“I know,” you sighed.

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

“Sounds like my Spencer,” you laughed softly. 

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

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

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

“I’m sorry–”

“You don’t need to–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Happy?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You asked what I thought!” you retorted.

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

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

“Are gunshot victims supposed to be this mouthy?”

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

#criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid #x reader #spencer reid fluff #cm spencer #dr reid #spencer reid x pregnant!reader #pregnant reader #female reader #spencer reid x fem reader #penelope garcia #criminal minds dr reid #cm x reader #derek morgan #david rossi #aaron hotchner #jennifer jareau #jj #emily prentiss

[luveline]

Hiii!! Could I request a bombshell reader x Spencer where someone (a local police maybe) says something rude to her about her appearance or something and normally it doesn’t really get to her, but something snaps and she kinda shuts down/is rude to Spencer until he coaxes it out of her? Sorry it’s long I had an idea and ran w it loollll

ty for requesting angel! confident fem!reader, 1k

Spencer shouldn’t expect his colleague to hold his hand, especially one so confident. What sense would that make, a woman as established as you are, who smiles without a lick of worry nor smugness, wanting to hold his hand? 

But you do it all the time, is the thing. In the car on the way to crime scenes, in the hallways of the office, under the round table. It started as a tethering for his distractedness, when one day he’d wanted to talk but hadn’t had the presence of mind to walk at the same time, so you’d taken his hand and led him to the office. You’ve been taking it at your discretion ever since.  

Spencer knows something is wrong —you haven’t tried to hold his hand all day. And even if you aren’t interested in him romantically, Spencer has come to crave the touch. He’ll accept platonic hand holding. Anything, really. 

“You’re staring very deeply, Dr. Reid,” you mutter, shades from your usual lightness. 

“I’m thinking.” 

“Aren’t you always?” 

“About you.”

“Well,” you smile fleetingly. “You should always be thinking about me.” 

“You’re truly humble.” 

His joke doesn’t land, it crashes and burns; your smile fades completely into a short, sharp line. Your gaze moves back into the restaurant, waiting for the team's food order in silence once again. 

Spencer’s pinky finger twitches across the gap. 

“Is everything okay?” he asks. 

“Fine.” 

You stay quiet, Spencer worries. He takes the bags before you can when they bring your food to the collection desk, two lumps of heat he holds to his thighs as you begin the walk back to the hotel. Tonight, the team will pick at their food together and rehash the same arguments they’ve been making all day, filling in each other's gaps, and tomorrow the work will start again. He can’t have you this unhappy again tomorrow. 

“You’re amazing,” he says, watching you turn to him from the corner of his eye, “you know you are, we all do, everyone who meets you. I know you don’t need me to tell you that, or to feel better, but… I’m here for you. If you want to talk. It’s been a hard couple of days, and talking about traumatic events as they happen and directly afterward make them easier to recover from.” 

“I’m not traumatised.” 

“Upsetting,” he corrects. “Having a shoulder to cry on is good for you, and I can be that shoulder. You know, if you need me to be.” 

He can’t know this in the moment, though maybe one day you’ll tell him, further down the line when the hand holding is better defined, but you look at him and you love him. To know Spencer is to love him. Or at least that’s how you’ve always felt. You’d love to cry on his shoulder about what transpired that morning if it weren’t embarrassing to think about, you’re upset over a throwaway comment made by nobody important. 

Spencer offers his company earnestly. He stammers. It’s amazingly sincere, as he usually is. He won’t mind if it’s embarrassing, he’ll just listen. 

You clear your throat. “I know I’m not to everyone’s taste. I know that the way I… present myself isn’t what most men like. People love confidence, but not when it’s bossy, not when it’s– when it’s vain. And I am vain. I think about my appearance a lot, I think I’m beautiful most of the time, I try so hard to have that be true.” You eye him thoughtfully. “Do you realise that?” 

He shakes his head gently, one ear toward one shoulder and then the other, as though balancing. “Sort of. I know you put effort into your appearance, but I also assume a lot of it to be natural.” 

“Right, well. It’s not natural. Not really. My natural beauty wouldn’t be all the beautiful to most people. And I’ve accepted that, I know what I like about myself, and–” You’re losing the thread of your point, an upset creeping into your melodic tone and turning it ragged. “When people tell me they don’t like how I look now, I guess it hurts because I know they wouldn’t like me before, either, and I feel defeated because I know I can’t win.” 

“Who said they don’t like how you look?” Spencer asks, confused, on his way to annoyed. 

“Officer Friendly.” You look to your shoes, watching the steps you take. “Guess he wasn’t as nice as we thought.” 

“What did he say to you?” 

You shrug. “Same story. He doesn’t like girls who wear makeup. Doesn’t like uppity women.” 

“Did he call you that?” 

“What are you gonna do if he did?” you ask without malice. 

“Morgan’s teaching me self defence for a reason.” You smile at his light joke, though it doesn’t last. He transfers the takeout bags into one hand, the other held out to you, his fingers sliding down your arm to your wrist. “You know you’re beautiful, with or without makeup. And you’re not uppity, you’re out of his league. There’s a difference.” 

“You’re flirting with me.” 

“No.” He wishes he had the wherewithal sometimes, but this isn’t flirting. “I’m being honest with you. Men like that don’t like you because they know they’ll never, ever have you, or anyone like you. There isn’t anyone like you,” he adds, sliding his hand into yours. 

He squeezes all your fingers together twice in quick succession. 

“Don’t let a jealous chauvinist halfwit make you think you’re not good enough,” he says. 

You curl your fingers around his before he can take his hand back. Slowly, you squeeze his hand. Then, smiling, you let him go. 

“I’ve never heard you say something mean like that,” you say. “Halfwit. That’s crass.” 

“I was going to say he’s an asshole, if that’s better.” 

Your laugh echoes off of the sidewalk. “That’s perfect. Say something meaner.” 

The insult he uses next doesn’t bear repeating. 

#spencer and bombshell reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction

[foxy-eva]

Date? Date!

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

Pairing: Spencer Reid x GN!Reader

Category: Fluff

Content Warnings: food mentions, miscommunication, awkwardness 

Word count: 700

Masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s true…,” he mumbled.  

“Maybe it’s time for you to try it!” 

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

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

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

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

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

Oh.

Oh.

Spencer must have thought you were asking him out. 

Now his reaction made a lot more sense. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You do?” He wanted to make sure. 

“Yeah, I really do,” you confirmed.

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

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

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

Taglist: @nomajdetective @reidsbookclub @gspenc @samuel-de-champagne-problems @matthew-gray-gubler-lover @malindacath @reidselle @alexxavicry @frickin-bats @spencersprettyslut @sebs-oxygen @happymangospot @cynbx @hotchandspencearedilfs @emiliaserpe @thenerdthatwrites @velvetthunder93 @saturnstringz @missabsey @guacam011y @hugyourlungs @reiderwriter @enamoradax @hales-17 @cham9ions @loaksulluyswife @ecneremili @xserenax-13 @grumpyy-bearr @luredwithpretzels @castiels-majestic-wings @super-nerd22 @pleasantwitchgarden @yeonalie @r-3dlips @evvy96 @torigorie @meyaareads @luvdella @luvley2k @bunnylovesani

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

[rreids]

SHOW ME • S. REID X READER

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

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

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

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

You swallow. “I mean in another way,”

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

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

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

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

Your emphasis on the last word is what gets him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Spence, more, I can take it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You know you do.”

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

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

[miley1442111]

jealous?- a.hotchner

a/n: i imagined a fem reader but as per usual, imagine what you like :)

summary: aaron couldn't be jealous, right?

pairing: aaron hotchner x reader

warnings: jealousy, heavy kissing, aaron is mean to spencer, not really cheating but kinda

Aaron truly didn’t mind keeping your relationship a secret.

He thought it was a good idea considering you two were only a few months in. As much as Aaron loved you, and you loved him, hiding it was a necessity. 

Right now? Aaron wanted to walk right up to you and kiss you so hard that the officer speaking to you finally got the message. The officer, John Davis had his hands on you, he kept talking to you, asking you dumb questions. Aaron could tell you were getting irritated, if he did what we wanted, he would be sure you wouldn’t mind. Though, workplace conduct also held him back. He was the unit chief after all. 

But what happened next shocked him. Shy little Spencer Reid walked up to you, wrapped and arm around your waist, and kissed you. 

What?

You were taken by surprise, but the officer just walked away feeling dejected. Spencer pulled back with an apologetic smile and cleared his throat, his face beet red.

“He wouldn’t leave you alone,” he shrugged, explaining his motivation behind kissing you. You just nodded, shocked that your best friend just kissed you.

“Spencer!” Aaron’s voice rang out through the room. Spencer’s head turned, a sickly feeling settling in his stomach. “Outside, now,” Aaron demanded. You sent Aaron a stern glance, silently asking him to not go too hard on Spencer. He didn’t return it. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

“What were you thinking?” Aaron demanded.

“Hotch, he wouldn’t leave her alone- I- what was I supposed to do?” Spencer attempted to add reasoning onto the sudden display, though a part of him deep down knew that he liked you as more than just a friend. 

“Get. Me,” Aaron deadpanned. “If you have an issue with the officers or anyone on a case you need to get me or Jj, she’s our liaison, I’m the Unit Chief,” he growled. “I thought you’d remember that, Spencer.”

“Hotch please, you know that guy wouldn’t have went away-” 

“Do I really have to babysit you?” Aaron was just being mean now. You were walking outside to them both anyways, Penelope had another break in the case. 

“Aaron,” you sighed, standing beside Spencer. “Stop being mean.”

Aaron’s body language changed immediately. He shut up. 

“Penelope has something, you head in Spencer, yeah?” You smiled at Spencer and he nodded and went inside. “What the fuck are you playing at Aaron?”

Aaron sighed, then grabbed your waist and pulled you in to kiss him. This wasn’t like any kiss before. It was heavy, passionate and all-consuming. You smiled into it.

“No one,” a kiss to your lips. “Should,” another kiss. “Kiss,” another kiss. “My,” another kiss. “Girlfriend,” he finished it off with a longer kiss, allowing his hands to travel and squeeze your ass, knowing it usually makes you open your mouth in surprise. Your gasp was swallowed by his lips as he pushed his tongue into your mouth, every attempt you made at pulling away was stopped by his large hands. 

“Baby-” breathed in between kisses as his lips latched onto your neck. “The team, they’ll see us-” 

“Fuck the team,” he said breathlessly. It clicked. 

“You’re jealous,” you stated, a small smirk on your face, Aaron rolled his eyes.

“It doesn’t take a genius to figure that one out,” he tried to capture your lips again but you stopped him.

“You have nothing to be jealous of. Spencer is my friend, that's it,” You smiled, pressing a soft kiss on his cheek. 

“Honey-”

“Let’s go back inside, yeah?” You smiled and he grabbed your hand, reluctantly following behind you. You dropped his hand as you walked into the conference room with the rest of the team, but Aaron felt better. 

You were his. He was yours. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

criminal minds masterlist :)

#criminal minds imagine #criminal minds #bau team #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fandom #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner #spencer reid #aaron #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #spencer #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader

[mandarinmoons]

Trudging up the steps of the apartment building felt like an eternity. The elevator was broken so you were forced to walk up three flights of stairs, this being the most tame of the unlucky events that happened today.

It all started with your alarm not going off, followed by getting stuck in traffic and arriving at work nearly an hour late and your boss deciding to keep you at work for longer so you could do back the time you lost in the morning. And to top it all off, your car wouldn’t start when you finally got done with work, so you decided to walk all the way home.

Your feet were burning as you made it up to your floor and as you rummaged around your bag for your keys you heard the front door open with a click and were met with the sweet smile of your boyfriend Spencer.

“Welcome home,” Spencer pushed the door aside and you automatically wrapped your arms around him in a hug.

“I thought you were on a case?”

“Well we managed to get a lucky break and here I am. I wanted to surprise you, I hope that’s okay.”

“It’s more than okay.”

Spencer took your face into his hands and his thumbs ran along your cheeks, his eyes studying your face carefully.

“You seem… tired.”

You chuckled and looked to the side while Spencer’s thumb brushed over your jaw, “You could say that. I had a lot of stuff go wrong today.”

“Yeah? Do you want to talk about it?”

“Maybe later, right now I want to be in your arms for a moment,” you snuggled closer into Spencer’s chest which elicited a chuckle from him, the sound vibrating in his chest making your heart fill with joy.

You could’ve had the worst day in the world but Spencer could pull you close into his embrace, press a kiss into your hair and it would feel like nothing could bring you down anymore.

Taglist: @radioactiveinvisible @whoisspence @sreidisms @lanascinnamongirls @luvkatryna @sp3ncelle @iluvreid @khxna @keiva1000 @reidstheyfriend @hiireadstuff @pleasantwitchgarden @cynbx @kimm4710 @niktwazny303 @reidsdaisies @mindfullycriminal @cumulo-stratus

If you want to be a part of my taglist go here!

You can find my masterlist here!

#spencer reid #spencer reid x gn! reader #spencer reid x gn reader #spencer reid au #spenced reid imagine #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid dialogue #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds

[lyv-writes]

OKAYY WE NEED DAD!SPENCER REID‼️

okay so Reader is going out for the day for like a little girls day with her best friends and says bye to Spencer and the cute little toddler! Buttt then the toddler starts missing reader and Spencer isn’t sure how to handle it at first, but then he gets the hang of it! <33

AAAA this is so cute omg thank u for this!!! i hope i was able to do it justice <33

spencer reid x mom!reader

words: 1,395

warnings: none really! just spencer being a good step-dad to your daughter, fluff, baby crying, that’s it!! :]

୭ 🧷 ✧ ˚. ᵎᵎ 🎀

“Thanks again, Spence,” you say, pressing another sweet kiss to his lips before tugging your coat off the hook and making for the front door. “Remember, Lila is allergic to kiwi. And her bedtime is 8, no exceptions. She has to go to daycare tomorrow morning.”

You had spent the morning holding Lila, playing with her and soaking up her laughter as much as you could. Spencer knew you had never really been apart from her—going to work was one thing, but there was a guilt that came with taking the day for yourself. He watches with a fond smile as you ramble through the list that you had already repeated to him twice and does his best to reassure you, nodding along despite having already memorized it.

Pre-made food in the fridge.

Medical information on the fridge in case of emergencies.

Call if she gets too fussy.

“Oh!” You say, halfway out the door before turning back to Spencer, a smile gracing your face. “And don’t let her convince you to give her sweets after dinner. She’ll ask you for fruit snacks, all cute, then she won’t sleep and it will be hell in the morning.”

“No fruit snacks after dinner, got it,” Spencer said, following your line of sight to Lila sitting on her plush rug in the living room, toys surrounding her as she played. Your face softened, affection swimming in your eyes and he could practically hear the thoughts going through your head. Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, he gently guides your face back to meet his eyes.

“We’ll be fine,” he says, tone soft as your shoulders sag at the understanding behind his words. “You deserve to have a day with your friends. I think Lila can handle playing dolls with me for a few hours.”

His phrasing made you giggle, picturing Lila’s pouting face, wagging her little finger at Spencer when he takes something too literally, or doesn’t do it the way she wants. For some reason, Lila is never happy with the voices Spencer does, and after a year-and-a-half she still gets that same little pinched brow whenever Spencer holds a doll in his hand, high-pitched voice mimicking a princess’s until she yanks the toy out of his hand with a firm, yet cute, “No, ‘Penth.”

Without fail, hearing his name in her little voice makes his heart soar, pride filling his chest even if she’s scolding him, wagging her little finger as she says it. He’d always been hesitant at the idea of being a father, whenever he pictured his future that was always a blurry part, but now he couldn’t imagine not having you and Lila in his life.

Searching his face, you finally come to the conclusion that he’s being sincere and a bright smile covers your face. Spencer had come to terms a long time ago, far before the two of you were even dating, that he would do anything to make you smile. A sense of pride wells in his chest knowing that the smiles you give him are just for him, a special glint in your eyes every time.

Between work, and Lila, there was hardly any downtime to just relax. Your evenings were often spent wrangling Lila into bed, usually with Spencer if he’s not away for work. Spencer made it a point to be home in time to have dinner with both of you as much as he could, slowly getting involved in her night time routine. She was 6-months-old when you and Spencer began dating, and while it took some getting used to at first, Lila began reaching for Spencer with a giggle and a giddy squeeze soon enough.

When your friends suggested a girl’s spa-day, Spencer was quick to encourage you to go. Having a toddler made it hard to have a social life, especially when your friends weren’t moms themselves. Lila had warmed up quickly to Spencer, which was the biggest relief, and it was hard to find a reason to say no when Spencer offered to babysit.

“She’s gonna be my daughter,” Spencer said, a fond smile on his face as the two of you spoke conspiratorially in the kitchen. “I already think of her as mine, I’d be happy to watch her for the day.”

Your heart swelled hearing his words, and you couldn’t help but say yes when he put it like that. Spencer, you, and Lila being your own happy little family was all you could ever ask for, and it meant more than Spencer could ever know that he had been so welcoming and understanding. He was a dream.

With a final glance at Lila and a sigh, you’re pressing another unhurried kiss to Spencer’s lips, that same lil dazed smile on his face that he got after every kiss, even after nearly 2 years. “Thank you, Spence. I love you.”

“I love you too,” he replies, pressing another sweet kiss to your lips, then your cheek, then your forehead—you were gonna be gone all day, he had to get his fill while he could. “Now go before you miss your appointment.”

With a final kiss, Spencer watches as you walk down the front steps, drive away, waiting until he can't see your car anymore before he’s turning around and closing the door behind him. When he looks up, Lila is already looking at him, eyes glancing between the door and him before her small voice is heard over the cartoon playing on the tv.

“Mama?”

“Mama went to the store,” Spencer cooed, lowering himself down to sit on the floor in front of her and her array of toys. “She’s coming back, don’t worry.”

“Mama s’ore?” she whispered in her small voice, her wide eyes blinking slowly at him before her lip began to tremble. It broke his heart to see her eyes, which looked so much like yours, gloss over with tears.

“Oh, honey, it’s okay,” Spencer said, scooping her up in his arms. “She’s coming back for you. She’ll be here soon!”

With a sharp wail for her mom, the tears that had been welling up began falling in big drops, hands gripping tightly to the fabric of his shirt as she cried. Hurriedly, he began to bounce her in his arms, mimicking the way he had seen you do it countless times. He’s shushing her in a soft voice, whispering soothing words in the hopes that they’ll at least calm your crying.

Spencer wracks his brain, trying to sift through the information he had gleaned from the parenting books he had been reading for the past two years—he had started as soon as he came to the conclusion he would ask you out. Would showing her pictures of you work? He didn’t want to make things worse by making her miss you more, but maybe seeing your face would soothe her.

Transferring Lila to one hip, he fishes his phone from his pocket and opens the album of your photos, showing her various selfies, focusing on pictures he has of the two of you. After a couple of minutes her sobs quieted to sniffles and soon enough she was swiping through the pictures herself and giggling every time she saw your face.

With her swiping, it landed on a video, one he had taken of you reading a story to her before bed. At the time he had thought the voices you were using for the characters were so funny, hiding his own laughter behind his hand so that he could capture the sound of Lila’s giggles.

Spencer watches as she giggles along with herself, laughing at the way she reacts when you tickle her tummy. Spencer cant help the fond laugh the slips from his lips at the sight, bright grin tugging at his cheeks at your rosy smile.

When you arrive home that evening, only the kitchen light is on downstairs, the faint light from your bedroom guiding you as you softly push open the door. A warm smile paints your face as you slip your phone from your pocket, taking quite a few pictures of Lila, fast asleep atop Spencer’s chest, her favorite book lying next to his relaxed hand. His soft breaths rustle the hair at Lila’s scalp, her hand loosely gripping the edge of his sleeve as she sleeps.

Tip-toeing around the room, you shed your clothes from the day, slip on some pajamas before placing Spencer’s book on the nightstand. Slipping softly under the covers, you curl yourself around Spencer’s side, hand resting on Lila’s back as you fall asleep, comfortable with the people you love the most.

#theres a lot of firsts in this for me #but dad!spencer is so cute and sweet #thank you for this request!!! #my writing #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #dad!spencer reid #spencer reid x mom!reader #criminal minds #lyv answers!

[basketonthedoorstepofthefbi]

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

read part 1 here!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader

Word Count: 3236

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

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

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

————

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

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

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

Your best friend tasted like spring.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So our UnSub has a type,” JJ added.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, Reid, you coming, man?”

Saved by the Morgan.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You feigned a gag.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s that?” Penelope asked.

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

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

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

[emmasbrain]

Releasing Tension

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Warnings: 18+ NSFW, fem!reader, p in v, blowjob, creampie, no use of protection (don’t be stupid, STDs are bad), idk let me know if there’s more

Synopsis: Spencer is tense and you stumble upon a way to ease his tension. (I don’t know how many times I wrote the word tense in this but it was too many)

NSFW UNDER THE CUT

He was always tense. Something about him never seemed to be able to relax, and although he seemed happy sitting up against the armrest of your shared couch, reading a heavy old book - that you couldn’t for the life of you figure the name of since it was printed in russian - you could see his body was slightly rigid, as though he felt he had to be wary. It had always been like that, you’d brought it up to him before and all he said was that “stress is a part of his nature” but that it “didn’t stop him from doing things he enjoyed”.

That seemed to be enough for him. It wasn’t for you, though. “Spence.” You murmured, facing him from the other end of the couch. He glanced up at you, humming his acknowledgement at his name and giving you a small smile. You loved the way even the teeniest of his smiles to you would reach his eyes, making the golden brown almost sparkle.

“Hey, is everything okay?” His soft voice broke you from your thoughts, and you nodded your head.

“Yea I’m fine, was just lookin at you.” He gave a shy smirk at that and tucked a piece of loose hair behind his ear.

“Is that all you wanted? To look at me?” The amusement in his voice was undeniable, and you gave a small shrug to feign nonchalance.

“Mostly just to look at you,” You lifted yourself up and draped yourself over his lap, curling up against him like a cat, “also because I could see how tense you were from the other side of the sofa, and it was agitating me.” You gave a sheepish smile, tucking your head into his chest and he sighed, looking at you as though you’d asked “are we there yet” for the twenty-third time in a half hour trip.

He set his book down on the coffee table and put a hand on your cheek. “I love you baby, you know I do, but you have to understand that I’m just like that. I’m fine, and I know you worry that I’m not okay but it’s just how my body works. It’s how I process stress; from the bau, and from anything else. But I’m okay, and I’m happy. I promise, sweet girl.” His voice was soft and you could hear the steady heartbeat in his chest as he rubbed soothing strokes against your cheekbone with his thumb.

“I love you more.” Is all you replied with, capturing his hand in yours and kissing his palm. You adjusted your position to sit up a little and kiss his cheek, his jaw, his lips. You gave him a peck, both smiling into it like lovesick fools, and resting your foreheads together as you pulled away. This time he leaned back in, connecting your lips, and it was longer, softer.

You moved on his lap again for better access to your kiss, and he sucked in a breath. “Stay still.” He barely got the words out before attaching his lips back onto yours, suddenly feeling much hotter than it was before. You lifted up and moved to straddle him, quickly merging your lips back together. When you fully sat down, Spencer's hips bucked up to meet yours and he let out a breathy groan, tucking his head in your neck and kissing the skin there.

His half hard dick pushed up into you as you sat on him, and the combination of feeling him against your now wet cunt and the way he sucked at the skin just between your neck and shoulder had you letting out a soft whimper. “Doc…”

His hips jumped when he heard you, and he moved his hands to grasp your hips, pushing you down as he rutted himself against your cunt. The wetness that had started to form was now soaking through your pants, the skirt you were wearing pushed up by his hands so he could glance down and see the mess you were making on his trousers.

“Fuck, please… so good baby, feels so good.” His grip on your hips tightened and he gasped into your shoulder, biting down slightly. He was close, and what kind of girlfriend would you be to let him cum in his trousers, when he could cum in your mouth instead?

You lifted yourself to stand, legs wobbly as you had been nearing your own orgasm along with him. He whimpered at the loss of contact, and tried to reach out for you to pull you back, but you just smiled. “Turn around, Doc. I want you facing me.”

Spencer and your’ relationship was normally fairly equal in dynamics. It was all about giving each other pleasure, and so by focusing on each other you both settled into a comfortable situation. If one of you were in the mood to take more control, you would. If you recognised that one of you needed something, you would give it. It was interchangeable, and that was what you enjoyed about it.

A few days before, Spencer had bent you over your kitchen table, fucking into you roughly and leaving marks on your body that you could still faintly see. Now you were giving him a peck on the lips and dropping to your knees, delicately pulling his trousers and boxers down his legs and watching his cock stand against his stomach.

He was very still, eyes wide in anticipation. It looked as though he was trying not to scare you away, and the thought amused you. As you reached to hold him, you raised your eyebrows, silently asking for permission, and he nodded profusely. That encouraged you to wrap your hand around his cock, which was dripping precum, and he hissed as you dragged your hand up and thumbed his head, spreading the precum down his shaft to make it easier to work him.

After you had stroked him a few times, you decided it was probably best to give him what he wanted, so you leaned in and licked from the bottom of his dick to the top, tonguing his slit. His hips involuntarily pushed up, and he leaned his head against the back of the sofa, letting out little breaths as he flexed his fingers against the couch to calm himself.

The sight of him was beautiful, eyes scrunched up, mouth hanging slightly open. You couldn’t help yourself, so you took his head into your mouth and hollowed your cheeks, running your tongue over the sensitive underside of his head. He choked out a groan at the feeling and the noise went straight to your core, soaking your pants even more.

Your clit was throbbing but you refused to pay it any mind as you took him further into your mouth, bobbing your head and stroking what you couldn’t achieve. He was looking down at you now, and when you made eye contact you pushed yourself further down on his cock, making your eyes water.

“‘M not gonna last.. feels too good.” He breathed out, lacing his fingers through your hair and gripping it, but not making a move to control your actions. You moaned around him, mostly just to see his reaction, and you were pleasantly rewarded as he whined, whispering an amalgam of curses and your name.

A tear began to drip down your cheek from taking him so far into your throat, and he lifted the hand that wasn’t in your hair to hold your face and wipe away the tear. Even through the pleasure burning in both his gut and yours, he never failed to do little things that warmed your heart. It gave you the motivation to speed up your motions, bobbing your head faster. The room echoed with the obscene noises of your mouth around him and his little moans that let you know he was ready to cum.

With your free hand, you moved to cup his balls and lightly squeeze and he could barely let out a groan as his breath got caught in his throat.

“I.. I’m-“ He tried to warn you but it was too late, and hot ropes of cum shot into your mouth. His hips stuttered and his grip in your hair tightened, forcing you to groan around his cock as the last ropes of cum filled your mouth until it was dripping down your chin. You carefully suckled his head until he looked satiated, and then pulled away and made sure to look directly into his eyes as you swallowed the mouthful of cum and grinned.

His head dropped to the back of the couch and he grumbled out a “fuck me”, shaking his head and smiling at your display. “C’mere.” He beckoned, helping you to your feet until you re-straddled his lap, centimetres from his still-hard cock.

“Did you like it?” you asked, daring to look timid now, and his eyes widened in disbelief.

“Like it? Did I like it?” He let out a breath and shook his head, swiping his thumb over the cum on your chin, and before he could do anything you pulled his thumb into your mouth, lightly tonguing the pad of his finger. “You are so perfect.” He pulled his thumb from your mouth and replaced it with his lips. “So perfect. I loved it.” The taste of himself in his mouth felt unusual but mixed with the taste of you he couldn’t complain.

You placed your hands onto his shoulders, squeezing lightly. “Less tense. I’ll take it.” Your remark made him scoff, and he pulled you in for another kiss - to shut you up you presumed. You didn’t much mind though.

As he pulled away, his head dipped down to kiss just under your chin, and then continue his kisses down your neck. It was soft, showing his gratitude, but you couldn’t help the way your walls clenched at the action despite his intention. “Spence..” You warned - though not exactly sure what you were warning him about - but he understood nonetheless.

“Do you want something?” He teased, acting as though a minute ago he wasn’t moaning and mumbling nonsense as he came in your mouth. His little kisses never ceased, although now they were much less little.

“Please.” Your voice came out whiny and needy and the sound he made in response was almost pained.

“When you ask like that I can’t refuse you. I would do anything if you asked just like that.” He lifted his head to your face, hands pulling at either side of your head to crash his lips against yours, He was somehow soft and rough at the same time, making you unable to breath and unable to want to. “Do you want me inside you baby? Can I be inside you?” He was rushing his words between kisses but you heard them perfectly, and it shot straight to your aching clit.

You pulled away momentarily to question, “Can you go again?” You didn’t want to push him, but he seemed overly enthusiastic about fucking you.

“I need it so bad.” He was almost begging, even though he knew he didn’t have to. You needed this just as much as he did, the begging was just an added bonus.

“Fuck me, then.” You said pointedly.

“Fuck you?”

“Fuck me, Doctor Reid. If you don’t I think I’ll go insane.”

And at that he grinned and flipped you both over, now lying across the couch with Spencer between your legs. He made quick work of pulling your pants down and groaned when he saw the wetness glistening on your pussy lips. “So wet for me, sweet girl. I could never get over how wet you get for me.” He was barely audible, speaking more for himself than to you, and he leaned forward, grabbing his cock and giving himself a few short strokes.

When he was back to being fully hard, he pushed his tip between your lips and against your slit, collecting the wetness and dragging it up over your clit. Your eyes fluttered shut at the sensation, but they soon flew open as he roughly pushed into you without warning, filling you until your pelvises pressed together. The broken cry that left your mouth had him rocking into you as he waited to be told he could move.

He was desperate to fuck into you but he needed your permission and it was driving him insane. His face was nuzzled into your neck and he was inhaling slowly, gripping onto your hips bruisingly to ground himself.

“Move.” You uttered the word and he immediately pulled out half way, slamming back into you like his life depended on it. He set a heavy pace and it wasn’t long until you were a moaning mess, grasping at his arms that were now steadying himself on your hip and next to your head.

“Feel so good baby, you’re so perfect. So perfect for me sweet girl.” The nickname sent a bolt through you and you clenched around him. “Ah fuck, you can’t do that to me baby I won’t last.” He warned, but that’s what you wanted, so you laced your fingers through his hair and synonymously pulled at his hair as you tightened around him. The shocked moan he let out sent waves down your spine and you could feel that familiar coil tightening in your gut.

“I need you to cum for me Doc. Cum inside me Spencer.” He couldn’t reply, only whimpering in response as his pace lost its rhythm, sharp thrusts combining with shallow ruts as he began to reach his peak. His hand on your hip trailed over and began to rub small circles on your clit as his hips began to spasm and he warned with small groans that he was close.

Your orgasm sweeped over your body and your thighs tightened around his waist as you whined, white flashing in your eyes as the pleasure overtook you. You gasped and came back down as Spencer stilled, cum spilling deep inside you as his body lightly shook with the pleasure. He stayed like that, hips pushed as far against you as they could go, head rested on your shoulder as he gasped in little breaths of air while he calmed.

When he felt he could move, he pulled out of you and collapsed on top of you, his cum beginning to drip from your spent hole but neither of you moved to clean yourselves up. You lay there for what could have been minutes or hours, not saying a word, until you broke the silence. “Definitely not tense now.” You whispered, and you both couldn’t help but laugh.

“Hey, I’ll admit to being tense all the time if it ends like that.” He mumbled against your skin, and you chuckled.

“We could always just do that anyway.” You replied, and he hummed in agreement.

He planted a soft kiss to your jaw, unable to lift his head much further, and moved his hand to hold your face, stroking your cheek with his thumb. “Thank you.” He spoke quietly against you.

“Always, Doc.” You turned to kiss his palm and fell back into comfortable silence, almost sure Spencer was falling asleep.

#smut #spencer reid #spencer reid smut #doctor spencer reid #criminal minds #p in v sex

[kiss-inthekitchen]

favorite insomniac | spencer reid

a little warm-up exercise i just finished <3 you can't sleep, so you decide to call the only other person you know who would be awake at this hour. ~500 words

You don’t get insomnia. Usually, you fall asleep quickly and easily, and then devolve into any number of nightmares or vivid dreams or somethings that cause to you wake up feeling like you hadn’t slept at all. 

Obviously not great. But not insomnia.

Tonight, however, is not a usual night.

You roll over once again, after what feels like hours but is probably only twenty minutes of lying as still as possible and trying to will your body to be tired. You check the time on your phone; 3:14 AM. 

Ugh. You have to be at work in less than 6 hours, awake in less than 5. Closer to 4, if you want to actually look presentable. 

You groan, scrubbing your hands over your face and barely resisting the urge to start punching your pillows. 

And then you give up. 

There’s one insomniac you know who’s got a pretty good chance of being awake right now. You've dialed the number before you can even think about it. The line rings once, and you realize what an inappropriate, quite possibly disrespectful choice this had been. You’re about to hang up, hovering over the red button, when you hear him. 

“Hey,” he says, voice raspy. 

Oh god, oh god. “Please tell me I didn’t wake you up.” 

“No,” Spencer chuckles bitterly, “You didn’t. What’s wrong?” 

“I can’t sleep?” 

His eyebrows raise halfway to his hairline. “So you called me?” 

You and Spencer are coworkers. You’re friends. You just don’t really hang out much outside of work and work-related events. Not that you haven’t wanted to, you just… don’t really know how. Or if you should. Or if it would be particularly smart. 

“I’m so sorry. I figured if anyone was liable to be awake right now, it’d be… I wasn’t thinking. I’ll let you go, I’m–” 

“Hey, it’s alright,” he says, amused. You’re the only person he ever gets the opportunity to calm down; he’s usually the most nervous person in the room. “This doesn’t usually happen to you though, does it?” 

“No,” you huff, flopping back against your pillows. “I’d ask you for tips, but whatever you’re doing clearly isn’t working.” 

“That’s nice.” 

“Am I wrong?” 

“No, you’re not wrong.” 

You make a self-satisfied little “hmph” sound. 

“What did you call me for then?” 

Something in the timbre of his voice makes your heart speed up. “I don’t know, human connection across the ether that is 3 AM?” The sense that you’re the only two people in the universe. The sound of his voice. Not that you could say that part out loud.

“Wanna go for a drive?”

Huh? “Wh– We have work in, like, 5 hours.” 

“Oh, you haven’t been counting, have you?”

“You mean like thinking ‘if I fall asleep right now at this moment I could get 5 hours of sleep’ but then I still don’t fall asleep and I watch the minutes go by until it’s only 4 and a half hours and then I get angry at myself for being awake and then I’m somehow even more awake?” 

He chuckles, dark and rich through the phone. “The classic trap. Never count the hours.” 

“Now you tell me.” 

“Alright,” he grunts, and you hear him shuffling around, “I’m picking you up.”

“You're what?!"

"I'm picking you up," his voice lilts up, almost like a question. But not like he's asking for permission, more like he's teasing you. Like he knows your answer anyway.

"Now? You have a car?” 

“Yes, now. And yes, I have a car,” you hear jingling on the other end. “You’re gonna like it.”

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #criminal minds drabble #my fics #couldn't find a cuter pic of spencer on a phone so its payphone image u have to suspend ur disbelief

[hotchnisslvr]

how do we carry on?

pairing: hotch x bau!reader

rating: m

word count: 4.8k

genre: angst, hurt no comfort

summary: emily was your confidant, your best friend. when she dies at the hands of ian doyle, you find comfort in your boyfriend, aaron. when you find out that she’s alive and that hotch had known all along, your world falls out from under you. can you and hotch come back from the decision he made for the good of the team?

*if this gains enough traction i might follow up with a pt.2 to give it a happy ending*

The criss-crossed lines of the tile floor blur together as you stare blankly between your feet. The tops of your thighs have gone numb from digging your elbows into them, using your cradled hands as a pillow for your forehead. You couldn’t go home, not until you knew.

Rossi had offered to go on a walk and get a coffee, but shitty lukewarm hospital coffee was the last thing you needed. You hadn’t meant to write him off, you just couldn’t justify doing anything to distract from the fact that she was on that operating table, that Emily’s life was literally hanging in the balance.

The rest of the team was no better off than you are right now. Penelope’s knitting needles clack relentlessly, the scarf inside of her purse growing as her hands keep busy so her mind doesn’t focus on how hard she’s trying not to cry. The last time you’d poked your head up, Derek hadn’t moved from the waiting room windowsill where he’d been standing still as a statue staring out at the cityscape. If Spencer didn’t stop shaking his leg, you feared he would wear a hole straight through the tile. JJ exits the waiting room as often as she returns, her liaising days quickly coming back, making her their only link to the operating room. Hotch’s behavior is no different. His cell rings every ten to fifteen minutes, no doubt the Bureau wanting to know how the hell this could happen. It’s the only sign that time is actually passing and you’re forced to accept that you’re not stuck in some fucked up purgatory-esque hellscape where time stands still, torturing you as your dear friend’s life teeters between worlds.

What you wanted, what you needed was for him to hold you; to place a kiss against your temple and tell you that everything would be alright. It had to be alright.

He couldn’t show favor to you though, not now. The team didn’t know about your relationship with him, though you believe a few have their suspicions. You’re all too observant for your own good. Not much goes unnoticed by anyone. So when JJ walks back into the waiting room, everyone shifts toward her to try and get a glimpse into her facial expression and body language for any sign of an update regarding Emily’s condition.

Instantly, you know something is wrong. JJ’s eyes flit from one person to the next, not lingering very long on anyone. Spencer is the first to stand and you follow suit. You close in, forming a small half circle. Behind JJ, Hotch stands in the doorway, brow straight as he folds his arms across his chest.

“JJ?” Her name is an anxious plea on Penelope’s lips.

JJ’s eyes drop to the floor as she presses her lips together. She takes a deep breath and lifts her eyes, yours the ones they land on as she speaks. “She never made it off the table.”

A choked sob echoes from Garcia as she falls into Derek’s arms, his features fixed as he stares ahead though his knuckles flush white as he holds tightly onto Penelope. Rossi pinches the bridge of his nose, eyes closed as he mutters something to himself; a prayer, maybe. Spencer envelopes JJ in a desperate embrace, as if clinging to her will somehow make her words any less true. Afterall, how can they be? Emily can’t go down, not like this; not after all she’s survived.

Someone says your name. Your brow dips, but you don’t respond. You need to see Emily. Your feet move of their own accord, guiding you through the waiting room. Someone grabs your arm and you tug away from their grasp, set on pushing onward and finding the OR.

Someone repeats your name, and you can’t help but latch on to the deep tenor that belongs to Hotch. You halt in your tracks and close your eyes, tears leaking over your eyelids and down your cheeks.

“I need to talk to Emily,” you say, your voice small.

The way Hotch says your name is laced with pity and you hate the way it sounds on his tongue. He pulls gently on your arm in an attempt to reel you into him, but you resist. You bite your lip to still its trembling. Yanking your arm free, you press on into the hallway and stumble toward the double doors that read in bold letters: Authorized Personnel Only. Fuck that. You’ve got a badge, that’s authority enough. Before you can push through, firm hands twist around your arms.

You push back, but their grip tightens. “Stop,” Hotch urges authoritatively. You turn into him and pound your fist against his chest, a sob cracking free from your mouth. “She’s not gone,” you cry. “She’s not gone. She’s not—” Your legs tremble with the wave of grief that crashes over you and you can’t hold your weight as it does so. Falling to your knees, Hotch reacts. His arms fold around your waist, catching you as you collapse into the wide plane of his chest. Your ribs ache as your lungs inflate with each rapid, sobbing breath. Your vision turns fuzzy at the edges as you try and fail to slow your breathing. It feels like you’re dying as the waves of grief assail you over and over again, battering you, body and mind, in an unrelenting tumultuous current of sorrow and pain as the wicked reality sets in. Emily is dead. You barely feel Hotch’s hand in your hair cradling you against him. As he murmurs apologies and sympathies in your ear, you don’t see the weighted look he exchanges with JJ.

•

The funeral comes and goes. The day is too beautiful for Emily not to be there to see it. You sit on the porch at Hotch’s house, breathing in and out as you watch the daffodils dance in the afternoon breeze. You smooth the fabric of your dress down over your knees, the satin wrinkled from the way you clenched it during the service.

Your phone buzzes in your purse. The number of messages and phone calls you’d ignored continues to rise, but you can’t bring yourself to express any gratitude for their condolences. You can’t bring yourself to feel anything except the crushing weight of grief.

You picture Emily sitting beside you on the wooden porch swing. Last Summer, you’d sat here with her as the team gathered for a Fourth of July Barbecue. Jack had made invitations and delivered them to the team at the office. He’d been so excited and so were you. It was around then that you and Hotch had begun to toe the line between colleagues and something more; a morning coffee dropped off at your desk here, an extra visit to his office there. You’d sat here with Emily watching as Rossi backseat barbecued Hotch on the grill. She’d caught you smiling at him alongside the fondness in your gaze. She’d clocked you from a mile away.

“Oh, you’ve got it bad.” Her laugh had tinkled from lips, ringing like a morning bell.

“What are you talking about?” you’d asked, trying and failing to school your features into a mask of indifference.

“I’ll tell ya, it’s a big swing, but if you hit it, that’s a home run for sure.”

You’d nearly choked on your lemonade, coughing and gasping; drawing the attention of the others.

“Wrong pipe!” Emily had called while pointing at you and clapping a hand against your back. “She’s good!” In a low voice she’d added, “Though I’m sure with him, it’d be just the right pipe.”

You’d elbowed her in the ribs and bust out laughing together. For the longest time after that, she’d been the only person that you’d confided in about your burgeoning feelings and relationship with Aaron. Through that, she’d quickly become your closest friend on the team.

A couple of kids shout at one another, laughing, as they ride past the house on their bicycles; shattering the memory. You dip into your purse and withdraw your phone, pressing a button and powering it down. The screen door creaks on its hinges and Hotch steps down onto the porch, the planks shifting beneath his weight. He sits beside you and offers you a mug. The scent of coffee reaches your nose and you accept it, thanking him quietly. Aaron had taken his suit jacket off and loosened his tie. He stretches an arm around your shoulder and draws closer to you. He kisses the side of your face and stares out at the yard.

“It was a beautiful service,” he offers.

“Aaron, don’t.” You close your eyes and take a breath. You hold the coffee with both hands, rubbing your thumbs up and down the warm ceramic. “Please don’t make small talk with me about this like it’s all so fucking normal.”

He sighs and apologizes. “I just wish I could make all of your hurt go away.”

A shudder runs through you and you nestle in closer to him, taking a sip of your coffee as you do so. “I don’t think it’ll ever go away.”

•

Her brown eyes stare back at you, though the photo paper could never capture the light that flared within them when she was alive. Of all the faces you could have seen up on this wall, you’d never anticipated hers being one of them.

Every day you stop by her portrait on the wall of fallen heroes. People talk about her less and less around the office. The team doesn’t stop, though your conversations are stilted and often end in awkward silences; no one really knowing how to carry on once the conversation slows to a natural end. You speak often with Spencer about the ways in which you’ve been grieving, the sleepless nights and early mornings. Derek is reserved. He’s angry above anything else. He feels betrayed by Emily and a part of you understands that. She’d not told any of you after all. You’d be remiss if you’d not also spent some of your time grieving in anger. Of all the times you’d stayed late after work, gotten together to hang out on weekends, or gone out for drinks, she had never indicated anything was wrong. You had told her everything, confided every one of your fears and hopes into her and you’d thought that the street had been going both ways. God, you’d never been so wrong.

“Conference room in fifteen,” Aaron says as he walks past you, hand grazing your back as he does so.

You smile tightly and nod, glancing once more at Emily’s photo before making your way to your desk in the bullpen, ignoring the fact hers still sits empty and unoccupied beside yours. How has it been three months already?

•

“Emily!”

Your eyes dart around the room frantically searching as your heart thunders in your ears. You feel the organ pounding against your ribcage, threatening to break free of it. It only takes a second for you to realize it had been a dream.

Aaron rolls over and sits up, threading an arm around your back and rubbing your hip with his fingers. “Another nightmare?” he asks, words tinged with sleepiness.

You nod, yawning as you rub your eyes. The dreams are further apart, but at least every other week her face haunts your subconscious. You can’t help but wonder if it’s some sort of self-punishment as life goes on and the days get easier.

In reality, you don’t know if it’s easier or if you’ve just forced yourself to become numb to it all, compartmentalizing the pain of losing your best friend because if you didn’t you don’t think you’d be able to leave the house and do what you do day after day.

“Are the appointments with the therapist helping?” he asks.

Another question you don’t know the answer to. On some level, yes. Talking to someone who knows nothing about you or her or anyone else on the team is good. You don’t have to walk on eggshells, worried you're going to dig open a wound the others are equally fighting to heal by talking about her or how much you miss her or wish she was here. On another level, you don’t open up fully to the doctor. There are some layers of this injury you don’t want to see heal and scar over. If you do that, it’s like you’re telling Emily that you’re over her death, as if it’s something as easy as that, something you just get over. No, some things need to stay fresh, to serve as a reminder that Ian Doyle is still out there. The man who took your best friend away from you and your BAU family is breathing and she’s not. You clench your fists, the sheets balling up in your hands as your resentment burns deep inside you. Yes, that’s it, the idea of him walking around thinking he’s gotten away with this is enough to stoke the flames simmering deep inside you.

You take a deep breath, mentally imagining the flames subsiding, and they do. They dial down, but they don’t disappear. You glance down at Aaron, who snores softly beside you. His fingers still curl around your hip and a faint smile graces your lips. He tries, you know he does, but this is exhausting for everyone. He bears the brunt of it at the office. He fought to be the one to meet with the team and conduct the grief interviews, not wanting a stranger to come in and sift through your friends’ and colleagues’ pain over what happened. God knows how much bureaucratic red tape he had gotten tangled in right after the fact, the higher ups demanding how such a blunder could occur right under their noses. Aaron had put out the fires though, as he always did. Reaching around his back, you withdraw his hand from your hip and tuck it by his side, not before pressing a kiss to his knuckles.

You glance at the clock before lying back down. 4:15AM blinks back at you on the digital clock face. In forty five minutes the alarm will go off and it’ll be another day at the office. Settling down into the pillows, you press your back into Aaron’s body, yours molding against the planes of his as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

His arms slinks around your waist and pulls you in as if you can get any closer than you already are. He tucks his chin over your shoulder and his lips brush against your jawline.

“I love you,” he whispers and you relax into the safety of his embrace.

“I love you, too, Aaron.”

•

Nights are hard when Aaron is gone. Pakistan is nine hours ahead and all Hotch has to communicate with anyone is a satellite phone, the number for which you don’t have access to. Whenever Hotch calls, the caller ID flashes the word ‘Unknown’ across your screen. There have been several times you’ve missed him due to being asleep or at work. Each call missed feels like being sucker punched. Every time you talk, a part of you worries it’ll be the last time. You didn’t use to have this fear, not until Emily. Despite staring death in the face on a week by week basis, most of the time playing Russian Roulette with the Grim Reaper himself in each unsub you cross paths with, somehow you never thought he’d actually take someone you love from you; that he’d take down one of the team. You never thought there’d be a last conversation with Emily, and now she’s dead.

Dead. The word is a heavy stone, sinking from the cusps of your mind to the pit of your stomach. It sits there, a persistent ache idling deep inside of you. It never relents and it never allows you to forget.

There are nights you dream that Aaron is dead too, that somewhere far away and beyond your control, he’s dying on the ground, bleeding out, and no one knows. You don’t even know what he’s working on and he can’t say; despite your relationship there are still levels in which Hotch’s clearance supersedes your own and the need-to-know red tape keeps you out. Afraid to close your eyes and dream of his unseeing, you stare at the blades of the ceiling fan whirling lazily overhead of the bed you usually share with him.

“I miss you,” you whisper to no one; and you don’t know who you’re talking to anymore.

•

“He’s back?” your heart flutters in your chest, equal parts excited and anxious at the prospect of Aaron’s sudden return. You push off your desk and swivel in your chair to stand, rushing down the hall and leaving Reid behind as you make your way hastily to the conference room.

The door is cracked and a gleeful sound eeks past your lips as his tall frame comes into view. You slip in before anyone else arrives and throw your arms around you. Inhaling deeply, his familiar teakwood scent envelopes you just as his arms do. You move to pull away, but his arms tighten around you.

“A second more,” he whispers, and there’s an edge to his voice.

You write it off to jet lag and sink into his embrace, though you notice how slight he feels against you. Finally, you pull back and cup his face in your hands. The scruff of his beard is prickly and you laugh as you take in his rugged appearance. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you with this much facial hair.” You swipe your thumbs over the hair on his lip and he tilts his head, kissing the inside of your hand. He closes his eyes and breathes in deeply before lifting them to meet yours. It's then you realize how tired he looks. The bags under his eyes are puffy and purple, almost as if they’re bruised. His forehead is creased, brow furrowed; definitely not how you pictured him upon reuniting.

“Aaron is everything ok—”

“I need you to know I would never hurt you,” he says quickly, interrupting you.

You purse your lips, brow pinching at the sudden admission. As your lips part to speak he directs a pointed look at you, the depths of his brown eyes wavering. “I love you,” his voice cracks, “so much.” He swallows, his throat bobbing as he does so. “Please remember that.”

There’s a hollow feeling in your gut, a chasm opening wide where every anxious and painful thought that you’ve tried to keep buried since he’s been gone begins to claw their way out as a thousand different outcomes play out in front of you. “Aaron, what’s going on?”

He doesn’t answer your question as the rest of the team trickles into the room, sitting at the round table or standing as suspense fills the space. It’s tangible. Everyone’s posture is rigid and tense in anticipation of whatever it is he has to say.

“Seven months ago I made a decision that impacted everyone on this team,” he begins, eyes firm.

Spencer shifts uncomfortably beside you. Rossi leans forward, fingers steepled under his chin.

“As you all know, Emily had lost a lot of blood,” Hotch continues and your ears prick at the sound of her name. Why would he bring her up? No less, her condition the day you all lost her. You all know this.

“…the doctor’s were able to stabilize her.”

Your lips part but no sound comes out as you raise your eyes to meet his. They meet yours for the briefest of seconds before flitting on to the others.The next words to leave his mouth sound far away, interrupted by the blood now pounding in your eardrums. “She stayed there until she was well enough to travel…given identities…”

There’s a lump in your throat and you feel as though you may choke on it. Air doesn’t seem to be able to bypass it and you have to remind yourself that you can breathe even though it feels like all the oxygen has vacated your lungs.

Penelope is the first to speak. “She’s alive?”

Spencer’s brow quirks as he tries to rationalize what’s being said to him. “We buried her.”

You did. You helped carry the casket. You felt the weight of her dead body and watched it sink into the earth. If that wasn’t her, what the fuck or who the fuck did you actually put in the ground?”

“As I said I take full responsibility for this decision,” Hotch continues, eyes downcast. “If anyone has any issues they should be directed towards me.”

The blood pounding in your ears is deafening. When Hotch looks up, you search his eyes and can’t help wondering if you know him at all. All of the nights you literally made yourself sick from crying and he held your hair back as you dry heaved over the toilet and your body spasmed from the grief of losing your best friend, he’d known that she was alive. For a moment, you think you may be sick right there at the round table at the thought of it all. Derek is speaking, his voice tight with anger but you don’t hear him. Heads turn and the hairs on the back of your neck prickle as a haunting feeling creeps up the back of your spine.

Turning around in your chair, everyone else stands but not you. If you do, you know your knees will buckle and fall out from under you. Spencer and Penelope are on their feet, moving briskly to greet the ghost of Emily.

Except she’s not a ghost. Her skin is not the cold blue-gray pallor of death, but pink and bright, the blood beneath her flesh very much pumping through a heart that’s beating. Her dark brown hair is sleek and shining, her bangs grown out and styled; her part now to the right. You watch her arms fold around Spencer and the way he squeezes her in turn. Penelope follows suit, tears streaming down her cheeks as she smiles widely. Derek stares on, features fixed in a cross between anger and shock. Emily approaches him with apprehension. An apology leaves her lips as she draws him in for a hug and his arms tentatively wrap around her. When she turns to you, your muscles tense. Those deep brown irises flicker back and forth across your face, searching for a reaction. You don’t give her one. Instead, you push past her, avoiding any and all physical contact with her, and dip out of the conference room.

You hear Garcia call your name and Derek shouts about having a case. You don’t care. You bypass your desk, not even bothering to get your purse. Your keys are hanging on a carabiner on your belt loop. Ignoring the elevator, you shove your way through the entrance to the stairs and move down them so quickly you’re surprised you don’t lose your footing and tumble down them. Down and around you go, your footsteps echoing as your heart slams against your ribcage. You slap your badge against the keypad that lets you exit the building, ignoring the greeting from the security guard at the front. As you push through the front doors of the office building, you barely make it to the bushes before you fall to your knees and retch.

•

A car door slams followed by the double beep which locks them. You close your eyes and inhale deeply as you prepare to face him, hands clenching around the sweater you were packing. A tear slips free from your eye as you breathe out and look toward the ceiling, as if the answers to why all of this had to happen are written up there. This is not how your reunion is supposed to be. You’d pictured his homecoming for weeks; thought about the outfit you’d wear to dinner and the lingerie you’d bought to wear just for him when you both got home, opened a bottle of wine, and made up for all of the time lost while he was away. That is how tonight is supposed to go.

Now you’re leaving, and you don’t know if you’ll be coming back.

The lock on the front door jiggles before the gears click into place. It squeaks on its hinges as it swings open. Five beeps follow and you can picture his fingers pressing against each button on the alarm system. His keys clatter as he drops them on the table. As his footsteps edge closer to your bedroom, you count each one. The sound that usually means safety and security, now sends a shiver of anxiety throughout your body.

He appears in the doorway, eyes rife with exhaustion and the bags beneath them puffy and swollen. His cheeks are flushed and his nose is pink, as if he’d been crying. Maybe he had been, god knows you had. His eyes flit between you and the bag you’re packing. His lips part and a small sound of desperation slips past them.

“Baby, please—”

You hold up a hand, curling your fingers into a fist. Your lip curls as you speak. “Don’t,” you breathe. You swallow the lump that quickly forms in your throat as you drop your hand, zipping the bag shut.

The inner corners of his brow draw upward and you can hardly stand to look into his pleading gaze.

“You have to understand—”

“Understand, what? Aaron?” You ask sharply, struggling to hold back the thick hot tears pricking the backs of your eyes.

He places a hand on his hip, fingers tucking back the fold of his unbuttoned shirt as his thumb hooks into his belt; a gesture you’re all too familiar with as he does the same thing with all of his suits. His other hand rises to pinch the bridge of his nose. He pauses, inhaling as he tries to find the words. After a moment, he scrubs a hand over his face and turns his gaze to yours.

“I wanted to tell you so badly,” he says. When he looks at you there are tears in his eyes. “I hated myself, watching the agony this decision put you and the team through. I wanted to tell you and take away your hurt, but I couldn’t. It wouldn’t have been fair to the team. Just because you’re my girlfriend, I can’t—” He turns his hand and slams his hand against the doorframe causing you to flinch. “Dammit!”

Your voice is soft, but sure when you speak. “You can’t bend the rules.”

It’s what you’ve always worried about, both of you. You always knew the job could come first, especially with him being the Unit Chief. You always understood that that meant no preferential treatment and that is something you never would’ve asked him to do. You just never anticipated it happening like this, a complete and total life altering mind fuck.

Aaron drops his hand and it slaps against his thigh in defeat as it falls to his side. “What was I supposed to do?”

You cross your arms over your chest, fingers curling over your biceps to try and still your shaking hair. You hang your head and a curtain of hair falls across your face, “I don’t know, Aaron.”

He kicks off the doorway, moving towards you with his hands outstretched. It happens without thinking, the way you flinch away. Pain flashes in his eyes and you feel as though you’ve been punched in the stomach the way it’s suddenly hard to breathe.

His hip is close to yours, his body angled away from you. You can feel the weight of his gaze on your shoulder as he looks down. “Don’t do this,” he whispers.

Your lip quivers, chin wobbling in response to the tears you’re trying so desperately to hold back. “I have vacation I’d been saving.” You pick up your bag and throw it over your shoulder, not daring to look up at him because you know if you do you’ll shatter into a thousand shards of glass at his feet.

As you move toward the door, you pause. For a split second, you entertain the thought of dropping your bag, running across the room he’d chased you around so many times before, and throwing yourself around him. You consider all the things you want to say and scream and cry about; all of your anger, sadness, betrayal, grief, and love. You crave him so terribly in that moment because his have always been the arms you’ve run to when things become too much to bear.

Instead, your chin dips toward your shoulder as you speak, but you don’t raise your eyes to meet his. If you do, you don’t think you’ll be able to leave. “My gun and badge are in the safe.”

As you make your way down the hallway, you have to bite your knuckles to stifle a sob just as you hear one leave his lips from the bedroom.

You don’t turn back.

#aaron hotchner #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fic #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotchner criminal minds #aaron hotch fic #aaron hotchner headcanons #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner angst #aaron hotchner hurt no comfort #angst #hurt no comfort #bau reader #bau!reader #fem!reader #hotch x reader #hotch x y/n #drabble #fic #hotch #sad!aaron hotchner

[luveline]

I would dieeee for some more of Spencer and bombshell after her getting injured😭 him taking such good care of her, the BEST doctors, researching every single option😭 reassuring her rhats shes just as pretty😭

—Spencer looks after you while you recover from a brutal injury. fem!reader, 1.1k

Spencer thinks it’s one of the team's more gruesome injuries. Hotch has been stabbed to mince meat and Emily half-killed, Elle got shot, and he’s had his fair share of violence, too, but he can’t imagine the horror of being hit in the face with a hammer. The pain so close to your eyes, your teeth, your brain, the fear and the sudden crack. He feels sick whenever he remembers the sound, and he was sick the first time he dreamt about the way you cried as it happened. Your strange yelp, the immediate drop to the floor. 

Spencer never hit somebody as hard as he did that UnSub. His gun whipped out possessed across the UnSub’s face, and then drove forward into their nose with a stomach turning crunch. 

They’re in custody, and you’re in bed recovering with some of the best doctors in the world. Spencer thinks you both won this round, even if it doesn’t feel like a win right now. 

“Shh,” he whispers, “shh, shh, it’s okay. It’s okay, don’t cry.” 

You cling to his chest as though worried he’s going to move out of reach, sobbing. You’re careful not to touch your face or his chest, the soreness too much, but the rest of you is clinging to him. You don’t have to worry, he’s not going anywhere. 

“Please, it’s okay,” he says, the tip of his nose to your forehead. “You can have another dose in twenty minutes. Just twenty minutes.” 

He supposes the pain reminds you of the full extent of the injury, your jaw fractured in two places, your gum traumatised, your face more bruise than anything else. You hate your appearance being out of your control, it’s making you panic —he can feel you shaking.

He’d sat down with your drink to find you already crying, he couldn’t have been gone for ten minutes, but it was long enough for you to fall deep into the throes of hysteria. You’d grappled for him as he sat down to hug you, your face hidden ever since, and now the shakes have started. He’s hopeless. 

But Spencer’s willing to do anything to make it better. “Can you tell me what’s upsetting you? Please?” he asks.

“It’s–” Harder sobbing, your tears dripping down from your chin to wet the thigh of his pants.

He has to calm you down.

Since you met Spencer, you’ve been the comforter. He can’t count how many times something has hurt him and you’ve rushed to save him. You’ve hugged and held and kissed him into smiling, you’ve never let him down, you’ve forgiven him after a hundred stupid mistakes, so Spencer doesn’t care that you’ve been inconsolable for days. He really doesn’t mind that he’s had to look after you this attentively. It’s his pleasure, and he’s getting better at it. 

He presses a few soft shushes somewhere in your hairline, his hand rubbing a circuit into your back with a firm pressure that never tips into roughness. He does it until his palm is numb. He could paint the slant of your back from muscle memory, fingers tripping down the creased fabric of your pyjamas, pulling back up to your neck. He’s never felt such tender sympathy. He hates that you’re in pain, but he doesn’t hate getting to rub your back. This is surely boyfriend territory. 

“You want something to drink now?” he asks quietly. 

You open your mouth to answer, sighing in pain momentarily. “Uh, yeah.” 

“Did you want the straw?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Okay.” He can’t force himself away. “You okay for me to move you?” 

“Yeah.” 

You can’t be blamed for short answers. 

There are surgeries to hold your jaw together when it breaks, and while you were unconscious (shock, rather than head injury), Hotch consented as your next of kin for the doctors to make sure things wouldn’t get worse, but it was Spencer who had to advocate for you afterwards. They’d wanted a metal connector to prevent dislocation. Spencer knew this could mean another scar, so he said no, because you might’ve said no had you been awake, and they should’ve asked you anyways. 

When you did wake up, you were vehemently against it. Which is fine, you can heal without it, but it’s scarier to do it unaided. Your jaw could dislocate if you do something wrong, which is not only horrifically painful, but a painfully horrific injury to have. You talk quietly. You take small mouthfuls of soft foods. 

Spencer looks at you now, tearstained, back arched like a kicked dog, and doesn’t know what to do. He wishes he were the one who got injured instead. 

He takes the hospital bed controls into his hand and presses the button to make the top of your mattress elevate. Tomorrow, they’ll send you home, and Spencer will have to construct a nest of pillows for you to sit in while you recover, but it’ll be worth it. Things won’t feel as intimidating when you’re in your own bed. 

“Lean back, beautiful,” he says. 

Your smile is a straight line with eyes lit up. “What for?” you ask. 

“Comfier. Less stress on your head.” You lean back. “Oh,” he adds, “and so I can get a better view of you.” 

Your eyes get impossibly brighter. “What do you think?” you murmur. Your voice sounds scratched to death from crying, tight from holding your mouth a certain way, but pleased anyways. It’s just as pretty as it always is to him. 

“You’re the prettiest girl in the world,” he says, reaching out to cradle your waist, his hand moving up and down the side of you tenderly. 

You have a bruise from under your left eye and bleeding down your neck, and you haven’t slept right for a few days, but you’re undeniably beautiful in Spencer’s eyes. 

You’ve been the most beautiful girl in the world literally from the day you met onward, with as much to do with your heart as your lovely face. He should tell you that, but he doesn’t. 

“Can I have water now?” you ask, covering his hand with yours. 

His confidence wobbles. “Oh, yeah, sorry. Sorry.” He grabs your drink, water spilling down the side to wet his hand. 

“Please don’t make me laugh.” 

“I’m not trying to,” he says pathetically. 

He holds the cup of water to your face and you guide the straw between your lips. Spencer’s sure he’s been in love with you forever, and it’s all but cemented now. 

#spencer and bombshell reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction

[tlou-reid]

spencer!dad with a teen daughter, theyre having an argument (bad grades, behaviour, sassy etc) but in the end she feels bad for her actions and apologises. fluffy/happy ending please <3

the only way to comfort your daughter most of the time was to remind her that spencer was a statistical anomaly.

there was such a small chance of him having such a big, beautiful brain, and it was completely unfair of her to hold herself to the same standards he held himself to. but, she did it anyways. and this caused a lot of tension in the house. especially since she started high school.

claire, your oldest child and only daughter, has been gifted. she was years ahead of her classmates, already taking calculus 1 instead of the algebra her friends were in. but being in these classes came with a lot of work on her part. and you did not mind helping her, but keeping up with the way schools change how they taught or trying to do the hard math she was doing wasn’t going too well.

so, spencer stepped in.

“you’re looking for the derivative here,” spencer spoke, frustrating clear in his voice. “that’s what i just said!” claire exasperated, throwing her arms up and tossing her pencil down the table. “you’re not listening to me!” you could hear the frustration and the hurt in her voice. you wished you could step in, but you knew you’d be no help.

“if you knew that, you shouldn’t have asked for help.” spencer rolled his eyes, growing equally as frustrated. “stop being rude, claire. i’m just trying to help you.” communication had never been spencer’s strong suit.

from your place in the kitchen, you could see the way spencer’s face was getting redder and redder, not liking the way his daughter was talking to him. “hey guys,” you called, quickly hustling around the kitchen to throw together a snack plate, “why don’t we take a break? i have a pre-dinner plate for you guys!” you did your best to cover up the real reason why you were interrupting them. hearing them go back and fourth broke your heart, you knew they didn’t want to argue with each other and it really did upset both of them.

“i gotta get done, mom.” claire deadpanned, once again rolling her eyes. “be kind to your mother.” spencer demanded. “dad!” she shouts, needing spencer to just be quiet.

“claire, go to the living room.” you pushed, shooing her away. they needed space from each other. they were too alike for their own good.

“you didn’t have to do that,” spencer sighs, accepting defeat. “yes, i did, spence. you gotta be nicer when she asks for help.” spencer nods, not really caring for your opinion.

claire had disappeared to her room, working on assignments for other classes. she doesn’t come out until you call everyone down for dinner. she asks her little brother, benny, to switch seats so she could sit next to spencer.

as you’re in the kitchen scooping everyone’s plate, you hear claire talking to her. “dad, i finished the homework.” she says, not elaborating. “yeah, how’d it go?” he smiles at her. the anger he was feeling washed away just as quickly as it came. “yeah, i had mixed up the different variables a few steps up. i had to resolve it like six times.” she explains. “great job, claire bear.” claire smiles.

claire was like her father, never one to apologize despite knowing she was wrong. neither of them would say the words “i’m sorry”, but the way they shared a bowl of chocolate ice cream for dessert was more meaningful anyways.

#i’ve never taken a calc class #hope this makes sense to the math nerds #spencer imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid angst #dr spencer reid #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid #criminal minds x y/n #criminal minds x you #criminal minds blurb #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds drabble #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds

[sweetismyaddiction]

SUCROSE

Paring: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

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

Word account: 1199

Warnings: Swearing, fluff, friends to lovers

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

Chapter 1: Derek Morgan, next door

Y/N’s Point of View

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

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

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

“What are you doing?”

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

“Where is Spencer Reid?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“By yourself?”

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

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

“Sugarpout? Spence?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why do you have his keys?”

“Cause I live just across the hall?”

Who does he think he is to interrogate me?

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I believe you”

“So… why the keys?”

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

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

“Food stealer?”

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

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

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

“Sorry about the door”

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

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

“Sugarpout?”

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

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

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

“Maybe”

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

“Sugar?”

“Hey, Sugarpout, did you sleep well?”

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

“How long have I sleeped?”

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

“He what?”

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

“Sorry”

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

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

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

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

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

[minswriting]

okayyy so…. been thinking about jesus reid with his cane lately and i was wondering if you could do a little blurb where spencer is having trouble…. finishing, maybe cuz of his leg (idk how that would work but like) and spencer’s getting all frustrated so coworker!reader offers to help him out and he’s all whiny n shit 🤭

nsfw | mdni

i can imagine this being like he rarely ever has any free time so he tries to get off when he takes a shower but standing for too long hurts his leg. so he went to work without being able to get off. i hope you guys enjoy!! this is fem!reader btw as all of my works are!

warnings: nsfw content, blowjob, female reader, whiny spencer

—————————-

when spencer came into work looking defeated, you immediately knew that something was wrong. you weren’t quite sure as to what it was. but as the genius doctor walked with his cane, you just assumed it was likely to be his leg bothering him. you had felt bad at the fact that he had been shot in the leg and was suffering through walking with a cane. and judging by the look on his face, the one of frustration and annoyance, you could tell it was most certainly his leg that was bothering him.

it was one of those rare days when there wasn’t a case and so the only work to do is paperwork or reading up on old case files. your desk was right next to spencer’s as you looked at your computer to check your emails. you glanced over at spencer, who was reading an old file. he was biting the inside of his cheek as his finger followed along the text, his hair falling to his cheeks. he looked tense and you couldn’t help but speak up.

“spence?” you asked, looking at the genius.

spencer looked up from the file to look at you. “yes?” he replied softly. his voice was usually soft spoken and you loved that about him.

“are you okay?” you asked with a concerned look in your eye. “you’ve seemed frustrated and annoyed all day,” you added.

spencer took a deep breath, stretching his arms. “i-i mean for the most part i am,” he exclaimed, “it’s just this damn leg. it’s been…a hassle really.”

“have you been elevating it?” you asked, tilting your head at your coworker.

“when i can,” he said with a small smile. your concern for him softened his frustrated demeanor. “it’s hard though, alone at home. especially because i have to do everything myself,” he said, licking his lips and running a hand through his hair. “i-uh barely have time to…take care of myself, and when i do, it hurts to stand on my leg for that long,” he whispered nervously, not knowing how you’d react to him.

“take care of yourself how?”

spencer’s cheeks reddened. “i uh you know what? it’s not appropriate, i’m sorry i mentioned anything at all. let’s just not talk about it, yeah?” he said, going back to looking at the file.

your eyes widened as you realized what spencer had meant. you quickly composed yourself, clearing your throat and going back to what you were doing. though with the redness of your own cheeks, it was obvious to tell that his words had some sort of effect on you.

the day went by without anymore conversation with you and spencer which bothered you a bit. it most certainly had felt awkward after that. though you couldn’t help but think about the idea of spencer trying to get himself off, jerking himself off. it was likely he did it most in the shower judging by how this job has early days and very late nights.

today, being the rare day that it was, everyone had gone home at 5:30 PM. when you had gone home, your thoughts were still on spencer. wet, long hair clinging to his skin as he leans on his bathroom wall, looking down at his cock, jerking himself off. you could imagine just how hard it was to stand that long on his leg, especially since you doubted he brought his cane into the shower with him.

around 8:00 PM, you decided it was time to be a good friend and help spencer with his issue.

you knocked on the door of spencer’s apartment. you stood there a bit anxiously, biting your lip as you waited for him to answer. you were wearing the clothes you had worn to work, a black pencil skirt and a red blouse. your hair was down. after a few minutes, you heard the tapping of spencer’s cane before it stopped and he opened the door. his eyes widened as he saw you, not expecting you to be at his apartment.

spencer was dressed in a pair of sweatpants and a FBI sweatshirt. you licked your lips nervously, looking at spencer. “oh!” he exclaimed. “y/n, what are you-“ he cleared his throat as he realized his voice was a bit too high. “what are you doing here?”

you took a deep breath. there was no backing down now. “can i come in?” you asked, looking at spencer. he moved to the side, allowing you to come into his apartment. you stepped inside and he closed the door behind you.

he walked over to the couch, taking a seat. you looked around the apartment before you turned to look at your coworker. “so,” you began. “when you told me, you’d been…struggling,” you continued, “i thought perhaps…i could help you.”

“w-what?” he stuttered, looking at you with his beautiful big brown eyes.

you walked over to spencer, your heels clicking on the wooden floor, before you kneels in front of him, between his legs. “i-i could help you if you let me,” you said softly, looking up at him. you put your hands on spencer’s thighs.

spencer licked his lips, looking down at you with a look you’ve not seen before. you could tell that your words had an effect on him, judging by the fact that he was already semi-hard in his sweatpants. “i-is this real?” he whispered.

you nodded your head. “yes,” you whispered back.

“i-if we do this, it’ll effect our whole dynamic,” he whispered, reaching a hand to move your hair out of your face.

you looked up at him, biting your lip. “i want you, spence,” you exclaimed softly. “and you need help. i want to help you,” you said as you moved your hand higher. you began palming him through his sweatpants, causing spencer to moan softly. “can i help you?”

spencer nodded his head, bucking his hips into your hand. “yes,” he said shakily. “please.”

you let out a breath of relief as spencer had given you. you put your hand on the hem of his sweatpants, pulling them down enough to reveal his cock. spencer let out a gasp from the cool air on his cock. it was red and angry, a signal that he hadn’t had relief in a while. his cock was long but not girthy. about seven inches or so in length. you smiled slightly, looking at spencer’s reddened face as he looked down at you.

you gave his cock an experimental tug, causing him to let out a small whimper. the sound was like heaven to your ears. the genius fbi profiler had been reduced to a whimpering mess by a simple tug of his cock. and it was powerful.

you lowered your head, giving the tip an experimental lick. spencer let out a shaky moan, bringing a hand to your hair. you slowly eased your mouth onto his length, stopping about halfway before going back up. your mouth moved up and down slowly, creating a rhythm as spencer whined and moaned, bucking his hips into your mouth.

it was all very new. you’ve of course done this before with other partners. but to do this with your coworker, someone you’ve had a crush on since you began at the BAU, it’s most certainly surreal. and clearly, spencer needed the help. so really you were just being a dedicated coworker.

“oh-oh fuck,” spencer moaned as you hollowed your cheeks, sucking his cock a bit faster. “feels so good,” he whined, closing his eyes in pleasure and throwing his head back. his fingers were entangled in your hair as you sucked him off, tugging at your hair gently. “mm!” he moaned. you hadn’t expected spencer to be so vocal but you didn’t mind it at all. it sent pools of arousal to your cunt, soaking your panties.

spencer began thrusting his hips into your mouth, unable to help himself from doing so and you allowed him to. what you were doing was for him. and if he wanted to use you for his pleasure, you were more than allowing him to do so. “oh my god,” he groaned, thrusting his hips up into you. “your mouth feels so good, y/n,” he said as he opened his eyes to look down at you. your messed up hair, your glistening eyes looking up at spencer, you were absolutely gorgeous.

spencer felt his cock stiffening as the heat in his abdomen grew bigger. he let out a loud trail of, “oh fuck, oh fuck, i’m so close, oh fuck.” he was about to pull out of your mouth but instead, you kept him in your mouth, sucking him off to completion. spencer let out a whine as he began cumming into your mouth with ropes. “oh my god,” he said, shuttering as his load shot down your throat. and being the good girl that you were, you swallowed greedily.

when spencer finished, you pulled off of his cock, leaving a trail of saliva and cum. spencer was breathing heavily, looking at you with a look of lust and gratefulness. he caressed your cheek, running a thumb across your bottom lip before bringing it up to his own mouth and licking it. “thank you,” he murmured to you, grabbing your hand to pull you onto his lap. you were careful to not hurt his leg at all.

“anytime,” you murmured back.

“i think i should show you how thankful i am,” he said before kissing your lips hungrily. and that kiss began a night of immense pleasure to the both of you.

it was safe to say that the two of you were no longer just coworkers anymore.

#minsasks #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds smut #spencer criminal minds #criminals minds x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid #spencer reid x fem!reader #🌸 — min’s asks #spencerasks

[womanmanipulator]

more spencer content

spencer reid x gn!bau!reader

synopsis: after getting hurt on a case, spencer wants to take care of you.

(nudity, blood mentions, nothing graphic. some sexual innuendos but nothin too raunchy. not proofread haha)

short little fluffy blurb

~

you and spence stumble into into your shared apartment. he guides you into the hall with a hand on the small of your back, then turns you to face him with a sweet little smile playing on the corners of his lips. he makes work at taking your jacket off. eyes flickering to the crusted blood on the side of your face. “let’s get you into the shower, hmm?” he hums. taking care of you was his favorite thing to do. naturally, you always put up a bit of a protest, wanting to be ‘independent’ n all that. he didn’t mind though.

“already trying to get me naked, huh..” you joke lamely. he smiles, shaking his head.

“it’s what i do best,” spencer smiles. he takes you to the bathroom, starting the shower and then pressing a kiss to the side of your face that wasn’t bloody. he helps you take your shirt off, instructing you to hold your arms up. then takes his time slipping off your pants. “i can undress myself, yknow?” you say. “and i can do it too, now step out of em.” he smirks up at you. gesturing for you to step out of your pants. you do so, and he makes quick work at slipping off your undergarments. spencer notices a nick on your hipbone, he presses a kiss to it. “does it hurt?” he asks, big brown eyes looking up at you. “no..” you flush and can’t help but get a little nervous.

you’d thought that the butterflies would go away after you started dating, but eight months in they showed no sign of leaving. you giggle a little and he smiles. rising to his feet. he holds the back of your head with both hands, resting his forehead on yours. he presses a kiss to your lips, it lasts longer than before. you lean into it. it’s cut too short for your liking though.

“alright lovie, get into the shower.” he pulls away. you sigh dramatically and climb into the shower. he turns the fan on for you and exits the bathroom.

~

okay that’s the end bcz i don’t know how to finish it

hope u like mwah mwah

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