#cm angst

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Isn't The Same Without You

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1k

Warnings: angst, major character death, fluff

Summary: Ever since you started dating Spencer, you hate sleeping alone. You always try to find a way to bring him into bed with you, even if he can't be there physically.

Square Filled: breaking a promise for @badthingshappenbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

One thing you hate doing ever since meeting Spencer is sleeping alone. He has provided such a safe space in bed for you that it’s hard to sleep away from him. Thankfully, you have the same job so if he’s away on a case, so are you. Plus, he’s so warm which makes for comforting cuddles.

You startle awake with a gasp, disgusted at how dry your mouth is. You look to the right and see Spencer lying peacefully next to you. You have to get water. You’re known for sleeping with your mouth open so that’s why your throat is always so dry. You usually keep a water bottle by your bed but this time, you didn’t.

You carefully sneak out of bed so as not to wake him up. You walk through the darkened apartment expertly. If a robber ever broke in, you’d know how to escape easily with the lights off.

You get to the kitchen and open the fridge, squinting at the fridge light. You grab an ice-cold water bottle and close the fridge to drink in darkness. The ice-cold water does wonders for your dry throat and it cools your insides. You’re about halfway through the bottle when you feel arms around you.

“The bed isn’t the same without you,” Spencer mutters and kisses your neck lightly.

“I needed water,” you chuckle. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“It’s okay. Come back to bed.”

You take the water bottle to bed and cuddle with Spencer until dawn.

Even when you’re on cases, you always find a way to make it into each other’s beds. Hotch has a rule where the men are separated from the women even though he knows that rule is broken most of the time.

Hotch has made it clear that the women were going to bunk with each other and the men were going to be on opposite sides of the hotel. You and JJ took up one room while Emily and Penelope had the other. Derek and Spencer shared one room while Rossi and Hotch were in another.

JJ went to bed nearly two hours ago but you can’t seem to sleep. Spencer isn’t next to you to provide that safe space, and you’re not sure if you’ll ever find sleep tonight. That is until you heard someone knocking softly on your door.

You smile knowing who it is.

You make sure to be quiet as you make your way to the door. You don’t even have to look through the peephole to check who it is. Spencer’s tired face smiles when you open the door.

“Hi,” you whisper with a smile.

“The bed isn’t the same without you in it.”

“Come in. Be quiet. JJ is a light sleeper.”

You bring Spencer inside and quietly lock the door. You make sure not to make too much noise as you two shuffle into bed. Spencer pulls you close and breathes in your scent by your hair. There, this is more like it. Exhaustion catches up to you now that your safety net has returned to you.

Spencer kisses your head and the two of you fall asleep with ease.

Even when you and Spencer can’t be together, like if you got sick or he had to stay back because his mom needed him, you two still find a way to sleep in the same bed.

You’re sick with either the stomach flu or bad food poisoning because you can’t leave the bed without vomiting everywhere. Spencer offered to stay back and take care of you but the team needs him more than you do. It sucks but it’s only for a couple of days, and you can handle being away from him for that long.

He and the team flew to California for a serial rapist who has yet to be caught while you’re stuck in bed trying not to puke up your insides.

It’s storming outside so the rain is pelting your window hard. It’s not the noise that is keeping you up, you quite like the sound of rain. No, it’s the fact that  Spencer isn’t here to help you sleep. You two have become so dependent on each other that you can’t sleep without him next to you. If you can sleep, it’s because you’re sick and your body is forcing you to.

Your phone rings, illuminating the dark room. The sound almost makes you jump ten feet out of your body but you grab it and smile when you see Spencer is trying to FaceTime you.

“Hey,” you smile when you answer.

“The bed isn’t the same without you in it,” he mumbles against the pillows.

“I know.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Like shit but I’ll live,” you chuckle. “I’m so tired. Stay with me until I fall asleep?”

“Of course,” he smiles.

It’s not ideal but knowing he is right there next to you is enough to send you into a dreamless sleep.

No one ever told you how hard this part would be. No one gave you a rule book to study beforehand. You thought the worst part was over but you’re just now realizing the worst part has just barely begun.

It’s raining hard outside so the water is just smashing against the window as hard as it can. The curtains are open so you can see the rain fall from the clouds above with the occasional lightning storm that lights up the whole sky.

You turn away from the window and let the tears fall freely onto the pillow you’re clutching. You’ll never be able to sleep the same ever again knowing Spencer won't be there next to you to comfort you. He promised to come home. He promised he’d make it back to you but he never did. 

An unsub got the better of him and now you’re left to pick up the pieces he left behind. You touch his side of the bed and refrain from screaming out in pain.

“The bed isn’t the same without you in it,” you cry.

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fiction #spencer reid fan fic #spencer reid fan fiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fan fiction #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds angst #cm #cm fic #cm fanfiction #cm fanfic #cm angst

[babiebom]

Heyy it's me again, lol. Ur criminal minds hcs for Reid were so good!! Thank u for blessing me. 🙌🏻 I was wondering if ud be down to write maybe a one-shot or a drabble of Reid comforting a reader (I almost wrote reider bc I spaced out and like akjsldj) who just had friends leave them when they thought they were really close? I hope that's not too specific!! Thank you sm for blessing the world with ur writing. It literally makes my day so much brighter whenever you post. 🥰

A/N: CUTE!! Reider would be a really cute fandom name for him ngl. Also I’ve fallen out of contact with friends that I thought were gonna be in it for the long run with me but unfortunately it just didn’t work out that way even if we didn’t fall out. ALSO specifics are great with me because then it’s clear what I need to write and what you want me to write so don’t apologize!! Can you tell I don’t know how to comfort anyone?

Tw: some cursing, some abandonment issues, mentions of bullying within the friend group. Isolation, ghosting. Lmk if there’s something I should tag!

Genre: angst, one shot, some fluff

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader (can be read platonically or romantically in think. Also can be read as gender neutral maybe?) if I added pronouns or descriptors let me know!!

Wc:1.3k

Criminal Minds Masterlist

It’s strange when you break up with a friend, even more so when the reason that you breakup is something stupid, something avoidable. It hurts even more when you get abandoned, ghosted by someone you thought would be in your life for the rest of it. No one ever prepares you for friendships ending. You get prepared for romantic relationships, death, and maybe sometimes you drift apart from friends but even then you’re prepared.

You stare at the group chat that had defined your childhood and teenage years. Stare at the names followed by “has left the chat” with a feeling in your heart that is only rivaled by death of a loved one if you remembered correctly. It had been a while.

It was a petty argument that only lasted a day, something about how everyone treated you. You regretted bringing it up on the first day that you had been ignored after sending a message. That day turned into a week which turned into them all leaving the group chat without telling you which hurt more than being kicked out of it. Did you really mean that little that they would ghost you that easily?

You never started arguments usually. You never even participated in them, trying to stay neutral in order to keep everyone happy. Always passive and agreeable and everyone liked you that way. The one time you have something to get off your chest…maybe you shouldn’t have said anything.

You tried to message one of your friends first, you hadn’t known her as long as some of the others in the group, but she was always sweet and didn’t seem like the type to ghost.

You 5:43 pm: Irene what happened? I saw you all left the group chat. Is something wrong?

You don’t get an answer back for an hour. And it makes your heart squeeze in your chest. It isn’t really an answer, but at the same time it answered both of your questions. To her you didn’t really matter all that much and something was really wrong.

Irene 7:01 pm: just leave me alone. You said what you needed to say, if you message me again I’ll block you.

You try again with a different friend. One you have known a little longer. One who had complained to you and confided in you and one that you thought you were close to than this.

He doesn’t answer at all, and neither do the other two that you message. Eventually you figure out that your messages never sent because you had been blocked. Going to their instagrams and twitters, everything is gone as soon as you click on them. Even their TikTok’s have nothing for you to look at.

Soon enough you’re fighting off tears, your chest tight and your stomach swirling. Was speaking up for yourself really worth this? Your head spins and your vision becomes blurry as you click on the last contact that’s available to you.

Your best friend. Having known her for the longest time out of all of them, you’d think she’d say something before doing something like this. You two met in elementary school, and were friends before the group got together. If you think about it more your friendship reminded you of the one in Jennifer’s Body. Except instead of saving everyone, you were being ignored and abandoned by the person you thought was going to be there even if everyone else wouldn’t. The person that you thought you could rely on.

But before you could message her, one came straight to you. The bubbles popping up as she’s typing something else. You can’t really understand the first paragraph, your mind to overwhelmed by the weeks events to be able to read.

Emilie 7:42 pm: I just wanted to message you before you tried anything with me. I’m honestly not interested in talking to you anymore after how you talked to me and my friends. None of us want you in the group anymore, and honestly it’s fucking pathetic that you’re reaching out and asking if anything is wrong when you’re the reason everyone was upset in the first place. Like you said we were shit friends, and now you wanna act like everything confuses you? If we were so shitty to you, why do you want us to still talk to you? I told Jacob, Josh, Irene, and Paisley to block you if you message them because honestly they don’t need you to try to beg and plead with them. You’re toxic and we’re done with you. Honestly, you look pathetic and desperate for attention messaging all of us like this. I’m not even gonna bother blocking you because it doesn’t really matter that much to me and maybe in the future I could be open to being friends again but for right now, I’m over it. Bye. You should do better.

Now the tears fall down your face, hot and burning as they trail down your cheeks and onto the screen of your phone. Going onto instagram to doom scroll your feelings away, you are immediately met with a photo of your friend group hanging out without you. Taken aback, you try to bring yourself to unfollow Emilie, to block her and effectively cut her out of your life while your wounds are fresh and your friendship is newly ended so you don’t have to torture yourself. But that’s exactly what you do, torture yourself. Instead of unfollowing her, deleting all of the pictures of her and your friend group from your feed, you scroll through them, the tears falling faster the longer you sit there and reminisce. You don’t even hear the front door open and close, and the only reason you know it did is because of the weight that causes you to lean towards the new person in the bed. Warmth blankets around you, the feeling of arms wrapped around your body brings you out of your mind.

Turning to look at the man next to you, you see that Spencer is looking at you as if you’re a wounded animal and it makes you burst out into tears. Maybe you really did look pathetic. “Oh no…what happened?”

You tried to explain, but couldn’t properly while you were blubbering. Instead you just throw your phone to him and let your head fall into your hands. He takes a literal second to read, then lets out a gust of air that usually meant he was surprised and didn’t know what to say.

He moves to hug you again, resting his head on top of yours. “You know…they say that it takes 200 hours to form a close friendship with someone. And when that friendship ends unexpectedly, it can cause a multitude of issues in the future with how you trust and open up to people…”

His ramblings weren’t all that comforting, but just hearing him speak made you start to feel better. Of course he would attempt to make things better by spouting facts that one hundred percent would make anyone else annoyed at him. You snuggle into his arms, nodding your head to show that you’re listening in between sobs. “S-so how long until I s-stop feeling like my h-heart is broken?” You ask. It did somehow feel like being broken up with, or having someone die.

“Well, most grief experts think that a year is a good estimate on how long it takes to get used to the loss of someone major in your life…”

“A year?” You whine, letting your head tilt backwards dramatically. “That’s too long!” It’s kind of a joke, the way you say it. But the way he looks at you lets you know that he knows you’re being somewhat serious.

“She was your best friend…of course it’s going to take some time to get used to not talking to her…however long you take to grieve is how long it’s going to take. It’s not a complete science.”

You nod, and hide your face in his chest. While you still felt like the Earth was ending, maybe it’s not ending right this second anymore.

#criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds oneshot #criminal minds headcanons #cm x reader #cm spencer reid #cm #cm headcanon #cm Oneshots #criminal minds angst #cm angst #spencer reid headcanon #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid angst

[spencersawkward]

candied oranges//spencer reid

summary: femme!reader brings her new boyfriend to meet the team for drinks, but she doesn't know why Spencer keeps acting up and presses him for answers.

pairing: femme!reader x spencer

word count: 1.9k

content warnings: casual drinking, lots of angst.

a/n: this is based on this ask i got a while ago that i really loved! i didn't make it long enough to include all the parts of the request, but i really loved writing this and i'd be super down to write more parts if y'all like it.

masterlist

you're immediately enveloped in a sweet-scented hug as soon as you enter the door of Penelope's apartment. she's hosting drinks tonight for the team, and you've been looking forward to it all week. although after-work plans are usually very tenuous due to the demanding nature of your jobs, you've been craving some bonding time with everyone.

moreover, you're hoping for a chance to talk to Spencer. he's been incredibly stand-offish for the past week. every time you try to have a conversation, he either makes an excuse or the two of you get called in for work. a few days back, you were supposed to go to the international cinema downtown to see a film, but he texted you last minute claiming he was catching a cold. it feels like he's avoiding you.

"welcome, welcome!" Penelope grins as she steps to the side to let you into her home. it looks like it usually does, purple walls with twinkling lights and knick-knacks in every corner. a throw blanket tossed over the couch that reminds you of a hallucinogenic trip. some of the team members are already here, gathered around Garcia's counter with drinks in their hands.

Spencer isn't here, though, and you frown until Garcia clears her throat loudly. "Y/N? aren't you going to introduce me to your friend?"

you're jolted out of your thoughts when you remember that you brought a date tonight. "oh, sorry. Pen, this is my boyfriend, Wren."

Wren reaches out a hand to your smiling colleague, but she waves it away and immediately hugs him too. "we've heard so much, Wren. it's so great to meet you!"

Wren gives you an optimistic smile over Pen's shoulder and, when he's finally disentangled himself from her friendly embrace, offers up the Tupperware he's carrying. "I brought candied oranges. I thought they might go nicely as a dessert."

Garcia's jaw drops, her pink-glossed lips catching the light. "you are an angel--" she turns to you. "he is an angel, Y/N."

you let out a satisfied laugh, happy that he's already made a positive impression on one of your friends. granted, Penelope tends to like everybody, but you don't care. you've been seeing Wren for a few weeks now, and it's been nice to have someone to make plans with. even if you end up rescheduling more dates than you actually go on because of cases.

"come meet everyone!" Garcia gestures for the two of you to follow her to the kitchen, where the team looks up. they're so different when they're not wrapped up with files and evidence. much friendlier faces.

"this is Wren, guys." you thread your fingers with his.

"Wren!" JJ grins enthusiastically and comes forward to shake Wren's free hand. Garcia takes the top of the Tupperware off and sets it in the middle of the counter.

"and he brought us snacks." Penelope points to the small treats. people reach for the candied oranges at once, all of them biting down and making noises of approval.

there's a flurry of activity as each member of the team introduces themselves to Wren, but he looks incredibly at peace with the attention, and his eyes sparkle when he's quickly brought into the circle of chattering friends. naturally, he charms them with his dimples and quick jokes. 

you're on your second glass of wine when Spencer arrives, his hair wet from the unexpected rain outside. Garcia hangs up his raincoat and brings him into the kitchen to join the festivities.

the first thing he notices is you, your eyes meeting across the island as Prentiss hands him a glass of lemonade. he's later than he usually is to group events, and part of you wonders what he's been doing. but then he catches sight of the arm that is casually snaked around your waist, and the person attached to that arm.

it could be a flickering kitchen light, but you swear his jaw tightens for a millisecond. his gaze bores into Wren's face, then neutralizes when he notices him. of course, because Wren is the life of the party, he immediately approaches Spencer with an outstretched hand.

"you must be Spencer. I'm Wren. Y/N talks about you all the time."

you forgot to warn him that Reid isn't one for physical contact, so you go with your boyfriend and push his hand down. Spencer's gaze flickers between you, Wren, and the hand that now rests at his side.

"Spencer doesn't really shake hands." you murmur in his ear. Wren is fast to replace his guilty expression with a more jovial one.

"you're the genius, right?" he starts a conversation that you know Spencer will hate. the profiler is constantly getting questioned on the job about his intellect and age.

part of you doesn't care, though. Reid has been an ass all week, and this newly sour attitude with your boyfriend really pisses you off. you were already nervous about Wren meeting such important people in your life, and Spencer possibly lashing out at him will send you over the edge.

"technically speaking, yes." the profiler responds with a clipped tone.

"Wren is a graphic designer." you insert yourself into the conversation. Wren looks at you affectionately, then at your colleague.

"yeah, I actually just moved here from LA."

"from LA to DC for graphic design?" Reid's words have an edge to them. he's already trying to piece together your boyfriend like a puzzle, the gears behind those hazel eyes working swiftly. something tugs in your stomach.

"weird, right?" Wren chuckles good-naturedly. "I just started at a non-profit that's based here."

"ah." Reid replies. he eyes Wren sharply, as though to cut him down to size. he makes no effort to continue the conversation.

before you can watch more of your coworker behaving like a petulant child, you clear your throat. "hey, Wren, can I talk to Spence for a second? I just remembered I have a question about one of our cases."

it's a bullshit excuse, but it works. Wren knows virtually nothing about your job, so he returns to the rest of the group after planting a kiss on your forehead and leaves the two of you alone.

the energy between you shifts immediately. for a second, you can't figure out what to say; you're angry, sure, but you're more hurt than anything. there are so many words crammed unintelligibly together in your mind. all of them are inappropriate for a kitchen conversation. instead of saying something, you grab his wrist and yank him into the hallway so the others can't hear.

"what the hell was that about?"

"what are you talking about?" he feigns confusion.

"you're being an ass to Wren."

"how? we've only talked for a minute."

"and that minute was you being unwelcoming. he's just trying to be nice and you can't even spare, like, five minutes of pleasantness."

Spencer doesn't respond to this at first, instead pursing his lips and looking down at his feet. you roll your eyes.

"look, Spence, I don't know what's going on with you. you can be mad at me for whatever reason, but don't take it out on him. he didn't do anything."

Reid's expression changes several times in the dark hallway, the silence thick. it becomes even more clear that this was the wrong place to confront him. you just want him to say something. this game he's playing is childish.

"I'm not mad at you." he keeps a level tone, though you can feel the undercurrent of frustration beneath it. his eyes are darting from the quirky paintings on Penelope's wall to your face, as though weighing his options.

you realize how well you know each of his facial expressions, his body language, even in the dark.

"that's even worse, Reid. we used to tell each other everything, and now you won't even be in the same room as me." as you say the words, they pierce you in a way you've been trying to avoid.

there were nights when the two of you would just walk and talk, your first days at the BAU when it seemed like everything was happening too quickly and you considered quitting. amidst all the chaos, you craved the free moments because he was there. a page break in every ceaselessly violent chapter.

you knew you loved him then, but loving Spencer is like looking at Saturn through a telescope. you could stare forever and never have enough, but you'll never be able to touch. the proximity is a delusion. especially when he pulls away like this.

"I just..." he seems affected by your words, those slender fingers clenching and unclenching at his sides.

"you just what, Spencer? I'm really getting sick of chasing you after your tantrums. I've got enough to worry about." you hope your eyes aren't as shiny as they feel, but you need to go. you can't have a breakdown at one of Garcia's parties, and you certainly can't keep spending time in a dark hallway with Reid when your boyfriend is in the next room.

you push past him, shoulders brushing as you blink back your frustrated tears. until you feel his fingers wrap around your wrist with a surprisingly iron grip, pulling you back to him.

you stumble a bit, free hand steadying yourself on his chest. angry words are in your throat, though they get stuck. instead, your mouth is open in surprise. he's never touched you like this, like he needs you to stay. it sends a shiver down your spine.

you think about one time a few weeks ago, when the two of you were heading home late and he bought you a croissant from a café. you sat at a tiny table and talked, played tic tac toe on a napkin. it was stupid, but you didn't want to be anywhere else. you liked how he laughed and held a pen.

his face is so close to yours, you can see the light gleaming in his eyes. his lips are parted. you know what's coming next, feel it in your bones.

"I'm in love with you." the words seem to fill up the entire hallway, pressing on the walls. your heart is hammering in your chest, the weight of it all seemingly coming down all at once.

you know you can't. you've never cheated, and you never will. but something inside you crumbles to ancient ruin, some rational part that would remind you that Wren is kind, and funny, and likes you a lot.

Spencer loves you; it repeats itself in your head like a mantra, burning through every cell in your body. he's still holding onto you, his skin bleeding warmth into yours as you hold his gaze. you love his eyelashes and the shape of his mouth. you can feel his breath on your lips, the magnitude of a possible kiss resting between you.

you inhale sharply, trying to remember every curve and slope of this moment.

"I can't," you whisper. your eyes flicker to his lips. how easy it would be. "I'm with someone else."

the fire in his eyes flares. he drops your wrist, defeated. you stay for a moment. it's the last shred you can keep.

"Y/N?" the sound of your name jerks you out of this stupor. you turn to see JJ at the end of the hallway, a half-bitten candied orange in her fingers. "is everything okay?"

"everything's fine." you straighten and put a false smile on, walking over to her. your limbs feel like lead, even as she links your arm with hers.

"I really like Wren. he's so funny." she laughs.

"isn't he?" you chance a look behind your shoulder, at Spencer in the dark. he doesn't look away this time. he knows just as well as you do that you aren't finished.

you just don't know where to begin.

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#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x femme!reader #mgg #criminal minds #spencer reid x bau!reader #matthew gray gubler #cm fluff #cm angst #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #mgg fluff #mgg x reader #criminal minds fluff

[eldrai]

Could you write autistic Hotch who hides his autistic traits and gets confused when Spencer joins his team and does not do that one bit as in he is barely masking around his new colleagues?

Thank you in advance, no problem if not!!💗

Can you write autistic Hotch - yes, yes I could. Thank you for the prompt, it was fun to write!!

3.8k (somehow). There's some unintentionally ableist comments and internalised ableism in here, about what you'd expect from the prompt. But otherwise, enjoy a dash of mild angst for Reid & Hotch.

ao3 here

Spencer Reid is most definitely something.

He hadn’t wanted to presume and, as Jason hadn’t elaborated other than the man being a genius, hadn’t asked. The flustered manner in most conversations can easily be a result of being fast-tracked through school; the confidence overwriting it when he begins to talk about a subject that interests him – Aaron’s quickly realising that constitutes most topics – is hardly irrational. Keen to prove his worth, no doubt exacerbated by his young age, Reid’s eager to make a good impression.

The exaggerated edge to his facial expressions and the little movements Reid’s forever engaged in – never can he sling his bag over his shoulder without fiddling with the strap, nor sit straight on a chair without spinning, and that’s what Aaron has picked up on just a fortnight in – are harder to explain without wishful thinking. Sure, maybe he’s anxious and it’s the accumulation of nervous energy and Aaron is overthinking it here. It wouldn’t be the first time.

The signs start to really stack up after they’ve been on their first few cases with him. Reid misses the sideways glances from the others when he’s been speaking for a long time. Jokes go over his head, not all the time but enough for Aaron to notice. He catches himself focusing on Reid and kicks himself each time. Reid is eccentric because he’s a genius. He talks so much because he knows so much and talking with his hands is simply a product of trying to get it all out so fast.

There’s nothing more to it and, frankly, he can’t help but feel a little guilty for considering it; it’s not his business. Aaron has almost convinced himself of this by the time an unsub mentions the autistic leanings of Dr. Spencer Reid.

The insult (as it undeniably is) isn’t even directed at him but Aaron’s heart skips a beat. Not a good thing to be called in front of everyone. Reid frowns. As soon as he notices Aaron looking at him he dips his head and breaks the eye contact, staring down at the pencil he’s spinning in his hands. Embarrassed is his best guess.

And it begs the question whether that’s because he isn’t autistic or because he is.

As he watches the team carefully for any kind of disdain, disgust, Aaron pushes the question to the back of his mind and focuses on the case. They have an unsub to catch and a teenage girl to find—the rest is secondary.

Jason hangs up on the man and from there things are a practiced blur.

“…think he is?” JJ says.

“Nah, he’s awkward,” Derek says. “He’s a genius, he’s bound to be a little out there.”

Aaron moves to let a local officer through the door and stays where he is, barely within earshot. There’s a quiet unease in his chest.

“Would he—” Elle hesitates. “Would he still have a 187 IQ if he was?”

Why would it matter?

Derek shrugs. “They say it’s the brain wired differently. He’d still be like that, just more different.”

“Shyer doesn’t even know him,” JJ says. “And he can’t be, anyway.”

“Why not?”

“You’ve seen how much he feels things.”

Well.

At least it’s not intended maliciously, though the intent does little to dull the sting. It’s a shame he can��t correct them, not without coming across as suspiciously defensive. Aaron puts his hands in his pockets and goes to find Jason; if anyone does know, it’ll be him. The conversation quiets down as he walks past and he doesn’t care to stick around to hear if they continue.

-

They continue. They’ve at least got the grace to wait for Reid to fall asleep – Aaron’s almost certain he’s genuinely asleep – before they pick it up again.

“How are you supposed to profile if you don’t understand facial expressions?” Derek says. “It doesn’t even make sense for him to think that.”

You learn, Aaron doesn’t say, because you’re neither clueless nor able to survive without learning. Instead he tries to blot out their discussion as he works on the paperwork. The jet’s a privilege, yes. It’s also very small.

“It would explain why he reads so much,” Elle says.

“He can make eye contact,” JJ adds.

Aaron clenches his jaw. It’s not as if having to hold his tongue is new to him but it’s something else when it comes from the team, and he glances over at Reid. Hopes he’s not a convincing faker. You’d be surprised.

“Hey, Hotch,” Derek says.

He tilts his head.

“It really doesn’t make sense what Shyer said. What do you think?”

Aaron stops writing and chooses his words carefully. “I think Reid would appreciate it if we weren’t speculating.”

“We’re not,” Elle says quickly. “It’s just that if he was, it wouldn’t make him any good at profiling.”

He sends an imploring look at Jason but the man gives him a faux quizzical look back. For god’s sake.

“How come?” Aaron says. He shouldn’t, he knows he shouldn’t, but something inside him is wound up tight and tense.

“Well, eye contact and everything,” JJ says.

“And he’d look like it,” Derek says. “I don’t have a problem with it—” How charitable, he thinks, irritated. “—but some people wouldn’t really… trust him.”

“Theory of mind,” Jason adds. “It’s lacking in autistic brains but it is vital for empathy and social interactions. He’d struggle to understand unsubs.”

Aaron likes his team. He values their inputs. He also wants nothing more than to tell them to please shut the hell up.

(Nobody’s ever questioned his ability to get into unsubs’ heads but the lacking in empathy… they might be able to see him like that. Is that what they think of him? Unfeeling, unempathetic?)

“Whether or not it would affect his profiling abilities,” Aaron says, “it’s a personal matter and if Reid did want us to discuss it, he would let us know. Until then, leave it.”

All of them. Even Jason.

Aaron flicks his thumb over his fingers absentmindedly as he picks up his pen again and reminds himself not to question whether he’d made the right choice. He has. It proves itself every damn day.

(And pattern recognition and an atypical perspective and an ability to be a better interrogator if the deviation from social norms doesn’t bother him would make him better, actually—)

-

Reid never mentions it again. The rest of the team might, but not within Aaron’s earshot and presumably not within Reid’s. Stamping down on the speculation too hard will only have the opposite effect so he settles for that, hoping he’s done the right thing. Hoping they’d think he agreed with them.

His list of ASD traits in Reid gets longer. The idea has taken root and it’s growing with the more time he spends around him. Reid’s odd socks he is insistent upon. His leg bouncing and chair spinning and pen drumming. The clumsiness which makes Aaron understand the childhood nickname. Learning to shoot frustrates Reid, because it’s a dexterity-based task, and Aaron, because he can’t let on that he understands why Reid is so frustrated in case he’s misjudging it. He offers to take over from the guy teaching him (and receives a grateful, if slightly disbelieving, look and a grumpy ‘good luck’ which makes him dislike the man immediately) and talks Reid through the process step by step. Reid needs to know why he does things, needs to know the mechanism. Aaron is more than happy to oblige. His brain works the same.

He's glad Reid has integrated so well with the team. Really, he is.

It’s just strange.

Though Reid doesn’t explicitly mention autism, he doesn’t need to. It’s there if someone knows the signs—and someone had—and Aaron can’t understand why he puts in no effort to hide it. Not even a case of masking it badly, Reid… doesn’t.

Aaron hates the feeling with a passion but some small part of him is jealous that Reid gets away with it. That Reid doesn’t have to worry about seeming strange or out of place or autistic, because it’s all explained by his intellect. It’s irrelevant.

And if it’s irrelevant in Reid, what makes it so important in everyone else?

He’s happy for him beyond what he could express, for the step forwards that’s evidently been happening around him over the years to make it acceptable. The bad days, though, when Aaron can hear too much and smell too much and think too much and has to rethink everything he says before he says it so he’ll be normal, those days the jealousy is an ache in his bones.

Blaming Reid is unfair. Reid had no hand in this. It’s not his fault that Aaron has trapped himself here, unable to stop masking and, frankly, exhausted with doing so. He didn’t build up those walls, those expectations, that personality. That’s all on him.

-

The knock comes about half a second before Derek barges into his office anyway and says, “Hotch?” in the same tone he’d use to tell him there’s been a major incident or something of the sort.

“What is it?” he asks, out of his seat already.

“Reid’s freaking out,” Derek says, “and we can’t figure out how to help him.”

That’s better and worse than what he’d expected. Aaron hopes he’s wrong. “Freaking out how?”

“He was crying when I left,” Derek says, “and he was trapped where he was, kind of? He wouldn’t move and he keeps saying stuff back to us that we said to him.”

Aaron lets Derek’s hurried footsteps lead the way. He hasn’t told anyone else about his thoughts and somehow it feels like his fault regardless.

They’re holed up in a conference room a little way along the hall from the bullpen, where the ambient sound is muffled and there’s less of a likelihood of new people coming by. He doubts that’s much of a benefit to Reid given that their whole team is also here, well-meaningly crowding him.

Reid himself is standing with his eyes screwed shut and his hands alternating between picking at his clothes and flapping. He feels sick at the secondhand embarrassment that it gives him to see him like this in front of everyone.

“Thank you, Derek,” he says. “Can you – yes, all of you – give us some space, please?”

Light bothers Reid even more than it does him—that’s easy, lights off and sunglasses if he needs them—and it had taken him quite a while to get over the sound when shooting, even with the ear defenders, so noise level probably factors in. Aaron’s not very fond of that aspect of field work either; it leaves him with a headache most of the time. There isn’t as much he can do about that but getting the team out is a good step. Other sensory issues aren’t his forte, though he’s not sure if Reid’s clothes are actually bothering him or the fidgeting is an outlet for his stress.

The others are hesitant to leave so Aaron turns to Reid. “Would you like any of us to stay, or would you rather be alone?”

He can’t see any visible injury and he trusts that Derek would’ve mentioned it if there is, so Aaron is all right, if not completely comfortable with, leaving Reid to calm himself down.

“Stay,” Reid says.

“Who do you want to stay?”

“Stay.”

“Me?” Aaron confirms. Reid nods.

It’s a relief in some ways – the others don’t need to see more than what they have already – and very much not in others. He hasn’t dealt with Reid’s meltdowns before and he doesn’t know what helps. Hell, if this isn’t a meltdown but something else, he’ll be utterly unprepared.

Once the team has left, Aaron flicks the light off and some of the tension in Reid’s face lessens immediately.

“What do you need?” he asks quietly.

Reid’s skinny arms wrap around himself as he rocks on his feet, ball to toe. “Stay,” he repeats. “Please can you stay?”

“I’m here, Reid.”

Aaron gives him his space but Reid stays where he is, seeming to hug himself harder each time he adjusts his arms, glancing periodically over at him then dropping his gaze.

“What is it?” he asks the fifth time Reid does it in a minute.

“Nothing,” Reid murmurs. “It’s nothing, I’ve just got a blanket at home – a weighted one – and that helps and I won’t be home until six and it’s a bad day and I wish I had it.”

He says weighted blanket like it’s something Aaron should know what it is, and he’s alarmed, slightly, that Reid is so openly giving him that information. That leverage, if it was in the wrong hands. It’s good to know pressure helps him.

“Can I do anything to help?”

Reid bites his lip and edges closer. He’s talking with his hands again, even if his eyes stay fixed on the floor. “I, uh, before I had that, I’d get pressure sometimes from, um. Hugs? But that’s – stupid, can you forget I said anything, never mind. I’m okay.”

And again, Reid’s so open with it all. Aaron is certain he’d have to have his own needs pried out of him to ever actually reveal them but the man in front of him has no such qualms.

“I… I can,” Aaron says, and there’s no way to say it which doesn’t sound awkward but he supposes they’re both past the point that’s a concern. Mainly he’s hoping for Reid’s sake he says no because he’d like to be able to look him in the eye – so to speak – after this.

Reid moves tentatively, like he’s not quite sure he’s really meant to be doing this, and maybe they’re not; god knows what it’d look like, the two of them embracing in a dark room where Reid’s obviously been crying. Still, Aaron pulls him in and wraps his arms around him, feels hands grasp the back of his jacket.

“Tighter? Looser?”

“’S good,” Reid says, his head turned and words muffled into Aaron’s shoulder.

“Good.”

Despite the strangeness, it does seem to help Reid calm down faster and it’s not long before he pulls away and wipes his face. Colour rises in his cheeks as he laces his fingers together, fidgeting with them.

Reid clears his throat and, for the first time since Aaron has walked in, forces himself to make eye contact. “I’m sorry.”

Oh, this part he’s more familiar with, the shame and the guilt—for all the jealousy, he’d hate to be in Reid’s shoes at this moment in time.

“You have nothing to apologise for,” Aaron says. Despite it being the truth, it feels like a lie on his tongue. There really isn’t cause for it. But something in him is just as embarrassed for Reid’s sake as Reid is. He pushes it away. “Nothing.”

“I can explain,” Reid says, giving him a wide-eyed pleading look, slipping back into the larger than life calibre his expressions can sometimes take. He’s already got countless explanations, no doubt. “Preferably not this instant but if you wanted, I, um, I could.”

“I’d like to know if we can prevent this from happening, but not because I’ve forced you to tell me. It’s so that you don’t reach this point in the future,” Aaron says. Lets Reid hear the assumption in it, that ‘this’ is not a one-off like some people might think, that it’s something they can manage with adjustments. That it’s perhaps a condition.

“I won’t,” Reid assures him, a beat too quickly.

“For your sake,” Aaron clarifies. He still looks thoroughly unconvinced. “You’re not in trouble.”

(Aaron can’t imagine what this kind of thing would’ve earnt him way back when. Certainly more than just embarrassment. He’s not sure what punishment he’d even give Reid for it, if he was going to be vindictive about it—he’d like to think he couldn’t but he’s not optimistic about the policy for incidences like this.)

Reid drags a hand across his forehead and massages his temple.

“Go home and rest,” Aaron says. He opens his mouth. “I’m not sending you home officially, you’re ill.”

Though the faint glimmer of suspicion in Reid’s face is nothing personal, Aaron feels a twinge of guilt.

-

Two weeks later, Reid comes into his office in the morning and spends a painful five minutes – for both of them – beating around the bush. When they truly exhaust all other reasons for his being there, he lowers the papers he’s kept held to his chest and slaps them on Aaron’s desk.

“I’m autistic,” Reid announces, his leg bouncing.

This is not news to Aaron. This is probably not news to half the BAU. There is no reason why it should catch him off guard as much as it does, yet hearing Reid outright state it gives the atmosphere between them a strange tension.

Reid shouldn’t have told him.

And he supposes he can understand that it’s easier than when he joined, that the culture has changed and being more open has less of a chance to damage Reid’s career, but less of a chance is nowhere close to zero. On a more personal level, Aaron can’t imagine ever admitting it to any of his higher-ups and expecting them to regard him as just as competent as he was before.

But Aaron wants to ask him what the hell he was thinking, didn’t he have the faintest sense of self-preservation? Warn him that it’s not something he wants to be common knowledge, and that the secrecy is a necessary evil. Just something to help him reconsider. He doesn’t think everything has changed enough to take that risk. Reid evidently does, and there’s the pull of jealousy and relief all again.

In all the time he’s thought about Reid being autistic he’s never thought of Reid actually telling him, or what his response would be, and he realises belatedly he’s probably been silent for a little too long.

“Right,” Aaron says, feeling surreal. “Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me.”

Reid’s shoulders drop and the tension bleeds out of him.

“It wasn’t on your personnel file,” he says. “Would you like it to be? You’d need a formal diagnosis—”

“I don’t,” Reid says. “I wanted you to know in case I had another meltdown. That’s what the other day was – the triggers can vary from person to person but mine are mostly set off by sensory overload, and it’s not usually that bad, I can keep it under control.”

“I’m not concerned about your ability to do your job, Reid,” Aaron says. “Like I said, if there’s anything I or anyone else can help you with to stop it getting to that point, let me know.”

“You can do that?” he says.

“Accommodations?”

“None of my teachers ever listened until I got my IEP,” Reid says. “And even that was only so I could skip grades.”

“I’m sure unofficially we can find ways of managing it,” Aaron says, “but if you did want access to official accommodations you would have to have ASD on file.”

“What would the accommodations be?” Reid asks.

It occurs to Aaron that he’s never checked, not even for himself.

“I’ll have to get back to you on that,” he says. “If you don’t want that, it’s perfectly fine to keep it between us. I’m assuming it is between us?”

“I think I do want the others to know,” Reid says, surprisingly certain. “Just not right now.”

Aaron nods. He’s torn between encouraging him and letting him know that it may not be the best idea, all things considered; not wanting to hurt him but not wanting to hold him back. Reid is an adult and responsible for his own decisions. He just can’t understand how Reid doesn’t see the other side of it all, doesn’t seem to care about the consequences of being so exposed. Autistic. Walks around as if the burden of judgement isn’t a weight on his shoulders at all.

Perhaps Aaron has it wrong. Reid might not care about judgment because he doesn’t mask—he’s set no precedent for himself other than who he is. Hell, he’s walked in here and told his boss he’s autistic. That has to count for something.

-

Reid does it when they’re together after a case. Derek’s been watching him wind the blanket through his hands for a good ten minutes, unmoving.

“You okay, kid?”

“Yeah. I’m fine,” he says. The sudden break in the silence has drawn the attention to them, briefly, and he glances at them. Meets Aaron’s eyes for a second. Says, like ripping off a bandaid: “I have autism.”

The stunned silence shatters just as quickly.

“Congratulations?” JJ says, sounding more sure of herself with each syllable she doesn’t get interrupted on. “Sorry, I don’t know what I’m meant to be saying but that’s – it’s a good thing, right?”

“Yeah, thanks for sharing,” Derek says.

Little by little, Reid relaxes, continuing to savour the texture with a bashful smile.

“Good to know,” Elle says.

And he’s not jealous, he’s not, he’s proud of Reid and happy for him but you’ve seen how he feels things and some people wouldn’t really trust him and none of this is about Aaron, so he forces a small smile and gives Reid a polite nod and that’s that.

-

Things have changed.

It’s in the little habits they’ve acquired, mostly accidental: Derek tossing Reid something to fiddle with when he’s wringing his hands anxiously. How Elle tips him off to the rhetorical questions he’s not entirely sure about being real or not. JJ switches from brushing him off to asking if he can tell her about his special interests later – and Reid comes out of his shell even more, regaling them on the jet with the sheer depth of his knowledge on the most obscure of things. Jason doesn’t mention it but he’s known Reid for the longest so it’s hardly surprising.

Reid has a list of good books on the topic he’s happy to talk about; Aaron skims one that he already owns a copy of, pausing to read the pencilled observations and corrections, glimpses of his thoughts. The astuteness manages to surprise him even after months of working together.

Aside from keeping an eye out for potentially overwhelming situations, Aaron finds he doesn’t need to do much for Reid at all, that the team have so effortlessly slotted into place accommodating him. And when, at Reid’s request, he filed his condition and accommodations as official he’d even gotten away without any comment from Strauss.

Reid’s got leeway for his genius and Aaron isn’t any closer to willingly letting people know about him but… well, it’s better than it used to be. A damn sight better. No small part are the people. His team. They’re more than he could’ve ever asked for and he’s never been so proud of them for learning.

#answered #cm fanfic #spencer reid #aaron hotchner #autistic reid #autistic hotch #criminal minds fanfic #angst #cm angst #reid angst #hotch angst #mine

[theoreticslut]

「 faux flirtations? 」

luke alvez x fem reader

summary: undercover works leaves you wondering if luke is simply really good at playing a role, or if his “role” is him being honest.

requested: yes

word count: 0.7k

warnings: brief mentions of death & car accidents, slight pining

a/n: i loved this dialogue prompt - “you look so beautiful” - so much! & with luke?? ugh, it was so cute. i hope your guys like it! Xx

It’s not often that you and the team have to do undercover work, but you can’t catch this particular unsub without luring him. Each of his victims have been single women in their mid to late twenties who he deems as a tease, simply for the fact that they’re unaware of a male friend’s affections for them.

As it goes, this unsub was the unfortunate male friend of a woman who never realized he liked her. She had gone off and got married to someone else before both her and her new husband died in a motor vehicle accident.

It’s understandable for him to be upset and angry, but the unsub decided the best way to handle his rage was to take it out on other similar women, killing them after delivering them an anonymous “love note.”

Of course you were the only one who fit the unsub’s type out of everyone on the team, so you were currently getting ready to go out to a club with Luke as your male companion.

You weren’t thrilled about the situation, having been crushing on Luke for a while now. The thought of him having to flirt with you while you pretended to be clueless bothered you. Not because you had to pretend to be clueless, but because he had to pretend to flirt with you. You wish he’d flirt with you for real, but he’s only ever been friendly towards you.

Regardless, you had to hide away your emotions for the night in favour of fake cluelessness if you wanted this to work. You needed it to work to catch this guy, so you take a deep breath and continue getting yourself ready.

~.~

Walking into the club, earpiece in and hidden, you pretend to scope out the place before you smile at seeing Luke over by the bar.

He had come into the club about an hour before you, mainly to stake out the place and make sure the unsub was here. However, it was also supposed to look like he had been waiting for you to show up specifically, and not like it was just a coincidence that you’re running into each other.

“Hey, Luke! Sorry I’m late. I got held up at work a bit longer than expected.” You start in on your role, smiling easily as you take a seat next to him.

You’re supposed to just be meeting a friend for the night. There shouldn’t be any need to be nervous.

“Oh, no worries, y/n. Seriously, I get it.” He smiles, but you can tell it’s fake.

It’s odd because you’ve seen him “act” around suspects before during interrogations, and he’s never once had an issue pretending to play a role. Something is on his mind, and for a moment you forget your role as you ask him about it for real.

“What’s on your mind? You seem distracted?”

Your question apparently brings him back because as you look at him with a slight furrow to your brow, he sends you a genuine smile - or at least it feels genuine.

“Nothing, you just…you look so beautiful.” He blushes, chuckling lightly as he shakes his head.

You’re taken aback for a moment as you try to decipher if this is him pretend flirting with you already, or if this is real. He couldn’t actually be complimenting you right now?

This shouldn’t be what you’re thinking about. You have to remember that you’re supposed to be clueless to his affections, whether they’re real or not right now.

Realizing this you chuckle lightly yourself, a shy smile on your lips as you thank him. He nods, letting out a sigh as he offers to get you a drink, which you accept of course.

Tonight was going to be harder than you thought if your heartbeat falters every time he flirts with you. You’ve just got to be convincing enough for the unsub to notice you, and to send you your own love letter where the team can then catch him when he comes to follow up on it.

You just needed to be convincing enough so you could close the case, and then you could work out your feelings for Luke when you aren’t being used as bait for an unsub.

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

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[mrs-weasley-reid]

Say Don't Go

Spencer Reid x bau!reader

Summary: Nothing hurts more than the fear of losing you.

Warning: Angst. mentions of death, blood, gunshot

A/N: I wrote this in haste, literally ten minutes ago, while listening to Say Don't Go (Taylor's Version) by mother Taylor Swift. It's definitely not perfect but I was definitely in the zone when I wrote it lol.

— ✿ — ✿— ✿ ✿ ✿

A gunshot.

Everything fades into a muffle. You blink once, twice, thrice... A wince connects your brows. As if you're figuring out if the oozing feeling on your abdomen should be causing you pain or ease.

Suddenly, Spencer's running to you. You think he's screaming. You hear nothing. There's only ringing in your ears. A thin, high-pitched ring that pierces through your brain.

You drop on the precinct's carpet floor, caressing your stomach like it's enough to stop yourself from bleeding out. You look at Spencer, "When'd you get here?" You ask, disoriented. You instantly pay attention to his watery eyes. "What's wrong? Why are you crying?" You reach to cup his cheek. You are shocked when you see your hand covered in red, smearing the liquid on his skin. Your eyes widen, "Oh, my god?! You're hurt! Spence—" You try to sit up, but a wave of stinging pain makes you fall back in his arms.

"WHERE'S THE MEDIC?!" Spencer's voice echoes in the entire place. He turns to you, unsure if he is even allowed to have you in his arms. He doesn't dwell on it as he holds your hand on his cheek, squeezing it. "Hey, hey! Breathe for me, yeah? Stay with me." He swallows a sob, placing pressure on your abdomen. "Please, stay with me..."

"I'm hurt?" Stupor begins to steal you out of consciousness. You blink. A bright light blinds your vision.

Once you open your eyes, you're back in Spencer's apartment. He's standing across the room while your feet are rooted at the door. He doesn't look at you. No. He's afraid to look at you.

His hands are buried in his pockets. He's wearing a nice suit. Fitted just for him. His tie is a dark shade of purple. You gave him that tie for his birthday last year. It's loose. His hair is a mess. And his face... it's wet.

He's crying.

You're crying.

"I think you should go," Spencer takes a gulp as he stares at the floor. Like it'd kill him if he looked at you.

You inhale deeply, sniffing as you wipe a tear with the back of your hand, "We don't have to do this, Spence. You don't have to do this."

"Yes, we do!" For the first time in what feels like forever, he finally lifts his gaze at you. His hazel eyes are rimmed with red heat, overflowing with tears. He's hurt. He's hurt, too.

"Is it really that horrible to love me?" You sob. You can hear your heart slowly shatter. Pins and needles knock on your chest. You wonder if you're still breathing right. "Am I that ugly—"

"You know that's not true, sweetheart." You hate that the nickname gives you butterflies. How his words, awful and insensitive, still made you attentively listen. How his voice still makes you want to hear more. "You're the most beautiful person I've ever met."

"Then why?!" You felt like a child throwing a tantrum. "Why are you putting a distance between us?" You bite your lower lip to stop it from quivering. "Why is it such a crime to be together?"

Spencer shifts his gaze to somewhere else. He runs a hand through his hair. You notice the coffee stain at the cuff of his sleeve. Then, you see the smudge of red lipstick past the line of his lips. Your red lipstick. He bought that lipstick a few months ago. No reason. Just for the fun of it.

Is it bad that you think he still looks handsome under the sun's setting light? Even when his hair is arrayed in different directions? Even when his face is drenched with his own tears?

He breathes deeply, audibly, "We're in the same line of work. You know better than to think we're going to work. News flash, sweetheart. It won't. It's not worth it." He can't look at you. He's ashamed to look at you.

"Not... worth it?" You blink. You stare at him with disgust, "So— So what? We're nothing, but we fuck? We're nothing, but we flirt? We're nothing, but you love me? Please, explain it to me because I'm having a difficult time understanding the stupid shit of a point you're making."

Spencer gulps for the nth time, "You love me."

"What?" You regret wanting to meet his eyes because now that he's staring at yours with such unfamiliarity, it hurts.

"You love me. You said you love me. I never said anything."

You're definitely not breathing right.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Inhale.

Exhale.

"Inhale, exhale... Yeah, that's right, sweetheart. Just follow me." Spencer holds your hand tight as the paramedics do their best to stop you from bleeding out. His voice sounds heartbreaking.

His voice...

You blink. Your hearing's back. You do as he says, inhaling and exhaling as he does. You feel lightheaded, like you're floating on a cloud.

Spencer keeps his and your hands intertwined. He follows while the paramedics roll you into the ambulance. "Hang in there, sweetheart. Please, hang in there." His face is a mess. He doesn't stop crying, swallowing his sobs.

You smile into the oxygen mask, blinking. You're on the verge of dying, and yet you find humor in knowing Spencer's tells. "You swallow when you're scared... don't be scared, Spence." You say it in broken words and in an almost soundless voice.

"I'm not," He denies, wiping his tears aggressively. He is. He's scared to the bone.

"The bullet shattered to her chest," The paramedic who inspects your chest claims, looking at her partner with worry.

"W-what?" Spencer stutters, stealing a glimpse down your neck. "No, no, sweetheart. Stay with me. Stay with me." He sees the way you flutter your eyes, fighting to stay conscious, listening to his pleas. And how you suddenly stopped, never opening your eyes back up. "Don't— Don't close your eyes! Sweetheart, please don't go. Please, don't—" He looks up at the sound of your vitals plummeting. He quickly looks back at your face, saying your name like it's a prayer.

The machine flatlines, and the paramedic pushes Spencer aside to perform resuscitation. "Sir, let us do our job." One of them says, two inches deep as she manually restarts your heart.

Spencer shoves himself in the corner of the ambulance. He wraps his arms around him. "Please, don't go..." His voice cracks and transitions into writhing sobs as he watches your body go limp with each surge of electricity that shocks your skin.

Then he thinks of that night.

He thinks of the image of you standing by the door. You don't want to go. He doesn't want you to go.

But you have to... because if you don't, he'll run to you and never let you go. So, he tells you to leave. You protest.

So stubborn. He cries in his head, wishing that you hadn't made things difficult for being so beautiful even when you're crying.

"You love me. You said you love me. I never said anything." His body shakes on the spot. His mouth goes dry. His chest compresses. He lies through his teeth.

Spencer saw the way your face turned into a ghost. He's done it.

He broke you.

He hurt you.

No turning back. No way of fixing it.

"Ah..." You say softly, nodding. "Checks out." You add without a sign of sarcasm. You stare into the air for a minute. You let the silence hover and hunt Spencer for a moment. You let him realize the pain, the stupidity of it all. "I think I should leave..." Your eyes say otherwise.

Please say, "Don't go." Tell me not to leave. Run to me... please.

You wonder if he knows it or chooses to ignore the way you held your tears. If he caught on all your tells. Because you knew he wasn't true. You knew he knew that you could read him like the back of your hand.

"Yeah," Spencer straightens his back, "I think you should."

You purse your lips into a thin line and nod, "Okay," You turn around. You take three seconds to grab the knob, but when the time has run out, you are out in a heartbeat.

"Spencer."

JJ appears in Spencer's vision. "Spencer, are you okay?" Her face was covered with worry as she placed two hands on his shoulders. She exchanges looks with Derek and Aaron.

They were there when it all went down. When the unsub came out of nowhere and started shooting. You were the first shot.

Spencer cranes his neck around. He's in the waiting room. He doesn't remember when or how he got there. All he remembers is the defibrillator jolting your unresponsive body more than once. His eyes widen. He says your name in haste as he stands up, "Where is she? Where— Where..."

Derek holds him back, "She's in surgery, Reid. Did you forget?" He asks, gently pushing Spencer back onto his seat.

"She was dead for three minutes... They couldn't find a pulse for three minutes." Spencer announces at a loss. He looks down at his hand, at the cheap friendship bracelet around his wrist. The one you made in your first year with the team as a last-minute birthday gift. He breaks into a sob, covering his eyes as if to push them back inside his tear ducts.

"So?" Derek catches Spencer's hands off his face, "She's been in surgery for thirty minutes. Her heart started beating again, and it had been for thirty minutes. She's fighting, man. At least fight with her before you wallow like a ninny."

"Morgan," Aaron warns but silently agrees.

You're fighting for your life, so they should, too.

You're not ready to go.

You don't want to go.

Spencer nods and wipes his face. He sniffs and takes a deep breath. He glances at the door to the operating room like he has x-ray vision, "Don't go."

#spencer reid #criminal minds #criminalminds #ssa spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencerreid #fem!reader #cm #spencer reid angst #spencer reid criminal minds #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you

[rynbutt]

pierced. pt. 8 | spencer reid.

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

you can find the other parts on my masterlist.

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

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

You and Spencer had been together for seven months.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sounds perfect, Spence,” you smiled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Spencer? What- Hold on,” JJ said.

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

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

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

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

“What?” Spencer asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It all moved so fast from there.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Help Hotch and Rossi,” JJ suggested.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He’s okay.”

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

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

“Please,” you sounded pained.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #cm spencer #dr reid #x reader #spencer reid x reader fluff #spencer reid x reader angst #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #penelope garcia #derek morgan #david rossi #emily prentiss #jennifer jareau #aaron hotchner

[rreids]

PROGRESS • S. REID X READER

semi-specific spoilers for 2 x 15 and the aftermath (specifically 3 x 16), hurt-comfort, tiny bit of smut (a handjob), probably incorrect information (mention of arousal being different but similar to adrenaline, i have no idea if this is true and refuse to do research), mentions of marriage, ~1.5k

Spencer was strong. You knew that.

You’d been with him every stop of the way through rehabilitation: through the relapses; held his hand and kissed away his tears as he fought the urges and ideas that he was worthless; told him he was stronger than anything and more resilient and beautiful than anyone you’d ever known.

One of his personal choices in his journey to get clean made sex harder — he was trying to learn how to temper all desire and urges, filter through what he deemed wouldn’t hurt or threaten his sobriety before making any impulsive decisions.

You hadn’t minded, content with the soft kisses and tickle of his eyelashes and beard against your skin as he silently thanks you for your care.

You loved his beautiful mind that ran a million miles a minute far more than you loved the pleasure from his body, and you knew you’d wait forever if that’s what it took. You wouldn’t have even cared if it was off the table.

You just wanted Spencer.

It’d been a few months since he decided to get clean, and as much as seeing him sob and writhe as he convinced himself he wasn’t irredeemable for slipping up crushed you every time, you knew it wasn’t about you.

Today was a hard day for him.

“Spence, baby,” you whisper, wiping his tears as he tells you about a recent case — the victim used, and the amount of himself Spencer saw in her terrified him —, lip quivering. “You’re okay. You have that coin, right? The one John gave you?”

He nods, leaning into your palm. He presses a kiss to your wrist and closes his eyes.

“You’ll get there. But struggling is okay. You know that, don’t you?”

Shuddering sobs wrack his body, breaths catching in ways that twist your heart, and you know he’s trying his best to calm down. “But what if I can’t?”

“You will, Spence,” you promise. “It’s worth it. We both know it. And we both know you’re strong enough to make it through this and come out better on the other side,” you kiss his forehead. “Besides, I’m here right alongside you. I won’t ever leave,”

Spencer sobs again, breathing ragged.

“I promise.” You answer his silent question, and he nods.

“I love you,” Spencer whispers out, voice scratchy. “You know that?”

“Well, out of the two of us, I’m not the one with the eidetic memory…” you trail off playfully, just for a moment, not long enough to make him worry. “I could never forget, baby.”

“I miss you,”

“We live together,”

“Not like that,” Spencer sighs. “I miss touching you. Feeling you.”

“You can have me whenever you want,” you promise him, brushing his curls out of his eyes. He was due for a trim, but you thought it was cute. “I’m yours.”

Spencer sighs, pushing past your hands and dropping his head to your shoulder.

“We go at your pace.”

“And if I think I’m ready?”

“Then we do what you’re comfortable with, and if you tap out, we stop. Your pace.”

Spencer nods, almost determined. It’s cute, and you have to fight back a laugh.

You smile despite your efforts, and the first kiss is more you two grinning against each other than a kiss. He takes the lead and slowly deepens it, careful and awkward like the first time you two ever tried to do more than steal pecks and hold hands.

His muscles are tense under you as you ghost your hands to his shoulders, and you gently work them as you kiss him.

“Are you giving me a massage?” He asks, confused and a little breathless.

“If I have to.” You smile, kissing his nose. “Relax, sweetheart. The second you wanna stop, just tap me two times. Nothing you don’t want.”

“Am I that tense?” Spencer tries to focus on muscles and force them to relax, but he’s too tightly wound.

“Would it be better if I give a massage first?” You ask, leaning down and peppering kisses to the side of his neck down to his collarbone. “Let you chill and then I ask before anything progresses?”

Spencer looks down, cheeks burning, and nods.

You don’t comment. He’s embarrassed enough, and you’re just happy to see him opening back up.

Tobias had left scars beyond the dots — that look more like freckles than any lasting trauma now — on his elbow. Though you suppose that was Tobias’s way of saving him from the worse scars from Rafael and Charles. Semantics. None of it mattered when your pretty boy was aching and worried under you.

“Lay down,” you urge, “take off your shirt if you’re ready. I’ll get your lavender lotion,”

It’s his favorite, a gift from his mom. You don’t tell him that he used up the one she gave him, since you dutifully rebuy and refill sneakily enough he doesn’t notice the volume shifting.

When you come back from the bathroom, he’s shirtless, fingers locked together and bracing his head.

“Gonna sit right above your thighs, sweetheart. Lotion’ll be cold,” you warn, and wait until he nods.

Then you settle and gently work through cords and muscles, slowly, patiently, methodically, a whispered warning and praise with every big move or change in pressure.

He melts under you, soft moans falling from his lips as you release pain he didn’t even know he had.

“Okay?”

“Yeah,” Spencer breathes. “Can you… can you kiss me? Before we do anything,”

He’s curled in on himself a little, and you murmur an “of course” as he sits up and tugs the blanket over his chest. You know he’s never liked the bruises from field-work, but this is something more.

“You know I always find you pretty, right, Spence?” He tilts his head at you. “I don’t care about the ugly moments. You’re my pretty boy. You don’t have to hide anything.”

You stress that last word, and you see it click for him, and he slowly lets the blanket fall.

You kiss a bruise on his shoulder.

“Kiss me, Spencer,” you urge, and he smiles, leaning in and softly melding to you, fingers curling on your waist with practiced movements.

His body remembers, and it makes your heart flutter.

He sighs into your mouth, sweet and gentle. You can feel his pulse racing, his movements getting more excited and clumsy as he kisses down your neck.

“You’re so good, make me feel so, so good.”

Spencer smiles against your skin. “You make me feel good too.”

You know he means it more than physically, but that’s what he needs right now.

And you want to give it to him.

“Can we take your boxers off, Spence?”

He nods eagerly, and you carefully slide his pants off with them, avoiding another bruise on his hip from a tackle on the recent case.

“So pretty,”

And he is. Lean muscle, freckles and moles, tan and pale skin in equal parts, wrinkles, bruises, everything.

His cock, too, weeping pre-cum and a pretty pink at the tip.

“Thank you,” he sighs, gasping as you grasp him and stroke, slow and wet. He sets the pace, fucking into your grip and kissing you sloppily to it.

He’s lost technique, having avoided more intimate touch for so long, but the eagerness and anxiety means more to you than it being perfect.

He tenses again as he gets close, and you know it’s the adrenaline, the high. It feels too much like what he’s been fighting.

“Okay?”

Spencer swallows. “I don’t know,”

“What’s the difference between sexual arousal and adrenaline, baby?”

It distracts him, and it also guides him exactly where you want — that the bodily response may be similar, but the centers it lights up are different; the cause is different; he hasn’t done anything to jeopardize himself, he’s okay. He can let go of some of the control he had to regain, can slowly ease back up.

He’s safe.

He cums, gasping breaths tearing through him. As soon as you work him through it, you pull off and clean him.

“You did so good,” you praise, brushing his curls with your clean hand and stroking the skin on the nape of his neck. “You’re okay,”

Spencer nods and kisses you, no urgency, just the depths of his feelings. “I missed you,”

“I missed you too, Spence,” you try not to let the tears prick your eyes, but you know you fail when he furrows his brow at you. “I’m happy,” you reassure.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You breathe out. “I just… I’m glad you feel safe enough to try. You know? It’s hard to watch you struggle.”

“It’s hard for me too,” he laughs, kissing your tears, a reversal of just an hour ago. “But I know what you mean. I’m sorry if it makes it hard for you.”

“No. It doesn’t,” you’re quick and firm in your reassurance. “I mean it when I say I will always be here for you. Good and the bad. In sickness and in health — though, maybe I should keep that unofficial until you put a ring on me.”

He laughs, boyish and free. The happiest he’s been in months. “Soon,”

#my works #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 fluff #spencer reid angst #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid imagine #cm spoilers #requested

[velvetwilde]

PLEASE SOMEONE WRITE SOMETHING ABOUT SPENCER AS SPIDER-MAN

#it's not a want it's a need #please please please #spencer reid #spiderman #spencer reid as a spiderman #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x yn #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds incorrect quote #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x fanfiction #spencer reid x female reader #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #spencer reid smut #spencerreid #mgg #matthew gray gubler #mgg x reader #cm #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfiction #doctor spencer reid #spencer reid moodboard #criminal minds x reader

[sabage101]

Card declines at therapy and they bring out the parents of the boy who was alive yesterday

#CM #criminal minds headcanons #criminal minds #season 5 #spencer reid angst #spencer reid #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #jennifer jareau #derek morgan #dave rossi #penelope garcia #Mosley lane #spencer reid x reader #aaron hotchner x reader #bau team #bau x reader #angst #episode16 #whyyyy #ouchie

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Safe In Your Dreams

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.3k

Warnings: angst, major character death, fluff

Summary: You don't know what you have until it's not there anymore.

Square Filled: drowning in their sorrows for @badthingshappenbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

“Come on, if we hurry, we might make it before the trailers are over,” you giggle.

“Are you sure we should be doing this? I have money.”

“And give it to those corporate assholes? You know barely any of the money goes to the theaters. They all go to the production company that makes the movies. I’ve done this once or twice. They don’t care if you sneak in. All they care about are their popcorn and food sales. That’s why they’re priced so high. That’s how they make their money.”

Spencer looks unsure about sneaking into a theater, and you yank open the back door with a smile.

“We’re gonna get caught.”

“Sure, with that attitude. Just tilt your chin up and pretend like you know where you’re going. Works every time.” Still, the unsure look doesn’t leave Spencer’s face. “If it really means that much to you, we can do it the normal way and go through the front.”

Spencer might be part of the FBI but who doesn't indulge in a little rebellious act every once in a while? Spencer takes your hand with a smile and steps toward you.

“Lead the way.”

“I knew you were a bit of a bad boy,” you joke and lead him inside the theater.

You lead Spencer inside the movie theater and away from anyone who might kick you out. There is a movie showing you’ve been wanting to see and happened to drag your boyfriend along with you for the ride. There is popcorn in your bag that you popped yourself so you don’t have to buy the theater’s popcorn.

You two walk into the theater you want and head to the very back so as not to bother anyone else. It’s a cheesy horror movie that has you laughing rather than screaming. Spencer isn’t a huge fan of horror but loves movies like these because it’s something you love to do.

Another thing you love to do with Spencer that he also enjoys is playing min-golf. You two clearly don’t know what you’re doing but it doesn’t matter because you’re having fun.

“Spencer, I think you’re doing it wrong,” you giggle.

He holds the golf club at an angle and hits the ball but it goes nowhere near the hole. It bounces off several walls and goes back to where he started.

“I suck at this game,” he smiles.

“Let me show you how it’s done.”

You walk to the front and set your ball down. You look at the hole on the other end of the course and bring your club back only to hit it super hard. The ball not only goes flying, it flies right into the set instead of on the grass. This course is a pirate’s theme so there are wooden pirates everywhere, and the ball nearly takes off one of their heads.

The couple behind you stares at you in judgment for acting like children. You two are giggling like school girls, but the couple doesn’t think it’s funny.

“Maybe you should play the right way,” the woman says.

“Maybe you should mind your fucking business,” you snap.

The woman is shocked you talked to her that way, and you turn to Spencer with a giggle. She storms off to presumably get security which means you and Spencer have to go before you get in trouble.

“It’s not good for an FBI agents to be caught with petty vandalism.”

“Then we better not get caught!”

Mini golf might not be the best date idea since you and Spencer can’t play for shit, but the kind of dates you love taking Spencer on are beach dates. The perfect time of day to go is when the sun is setting since the clouds are bright pink, orange, and purple, and the sun makes the water shimmer magically.

“Are you ready?” you grin at Spencer.

“As ready as you can be.”

“Don’t push me this time.”

The water crashes on the shore, and you and Spencer run from the water. You two look like little kids who don’t want to get wet but you don’t care. Once the water recedes back into the ocean, you and Spencer walk closer to water. The waves crash onto the shore again, and tyou and Spencer take off running away from it. The water splashes on the back of your ankles, and you squeal at how cold it is. The East Coast waters are a lot warmer than the West Coast, but it’s still winter.

Spencer scoops you up into his arms and walks closer to the water that has receded.

“Don’t drop me,” you giggle and hold onto him.

When the water crashes onto the shore, Spencer attempts to run from it but ends up slipping and falling. He turns so that you land on him instead of the ground, but the water washes over both of you. You scream playfully from how cold the water is and Spencer shivers from the temperature. You lean down and kiss him just as another wave washes upon you.

Though, the best date you’ve ever been on with Spencer is when he took you to a rooftop restaurant. He had to work late because of the BAU but managed to get a reservation a the restaurant since he was friends with the chef. Since it was past closing time, there was no one else on the roof but you two, and it overlooked the city which only added to how romantic it was.

“Damn, you can see everything up here,” you say. “It’s very beautiful.”

Spencer stares at you as you admire the city below. “Yeah, it is.”

Soft music is flowing through the speakers, and Spencer gets up and extends his hand to you. The chef has your orders so while you wait, Spencer wants to fill the time with dancing. You look away from the city and blush at his hand. When you grab his hand, he pulls you into him so that your head is resting on his cheat. You can hear his heartbeat underneath your ear which releases an abundance of endorphins in your head.

Your hand is so small compared to his, so he envelopes yours completely. Everything else in your life goes away because the only thing you can focus on is Spencer and this moment. You’re so in love with him that it’s overwhelming and consuming. You’ve never felt this way about another person before.

You’re not sure where you’d be without him in your life.

A few weeks after that rooftop date, you and Spencer are in the park near your shared apartment. It’s nearing midnight so there aren’t any kids playing around. It’s just you and Spencer which is all that you want. You two are swinging lightly on the swings, and you look up at the stars that twinkle for you.

“Do you still read the book I made for you?” he suddenly asks.

You look at him and slightly frown.

“No, I don’t.”

“Why not?”

“It’s too painful, I guess. It reminds me of you and I get really sad,” you sigh.

“I see,” he nods.

“I hope you’re not mad.”

“Mad at a cute little thing like you? Never.” He stops swinging and looks at you seriously. “I do have to go, though.”

“No, please stay,” you whimper.

“I can’t darling. I promise I’ll be back soon.”

He gets off the swing and approaches you from the front. He pulls you close and kisses your head. You close your eyes to savor this moment but when you open them, you’re in your bedroom. The room is dull in color and the curtains are drawn closed to prevent light from coming through.

The alarm clock reads seven AM. You should be at work. You should be with your team. Instead, you roll to the empty spot in bed and bring Spencer’s pillow closer to you. You stain the sheet with your tears as you force yourself to go to sleep.

Your dreams are the only place you get to see Spencer now.

x

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[007reid]

stalemate. spencer reid

join the taglist | part 1

summary: spencer reid isn't very fond of you, and that you understand. you aren't fond of him either.

a/n: this was the first spencer thing i wrote and since i cant write a lot rn , i’ll push this out for u guys!! enjoy <33 lmk if you want a p2 🤍

the team didn't welcome you coldly, but they didn't hold their arms open for you to run in, either. you understand completely. they're a family, and have worked together efficiently without you for long enough to not need a second opinion from you. yet a help wanted slot was posted and you have been waiting for an excuse to transfer out of your shitty department anyway, so you didn't have anything to loose. however, now that you sit here listening to the entire team's hearty laughter bouncing off the walls, you regret ever coming to this 'celebration,' or whatever. you regret transferring out of your old department. it was shitty, but it wasn't as shitty as this.

you feel inferior, swirling the noodles in your plate absentmindedly as you think about whether or not your old boss would let you in if you come crawling back. because you would. in a heartbeat. the bau's giggles and inside jokes were foreign to you, and you didn't want to sulk in case of ruining their mood but you can't start smiling and pretending that you fit in either; that's even worse. you would excuse yourself, saying how it's late and everything, but it's fucking seven thirty. and considering how you're surrounded by the best profilers in the fucking nation, they will read the excuses by just a single glance at your face. you'd rather not risk it.

it's not like anyone's rude to you either. you look at jj, then prentiss, then to garcia. they're all leaning into each other, completely in their element. hotch is looking at them affectionately, and you rarely see the man smile but he's smiling now, at peace. then you glance at morgan, who has his arm thrown over reid, drunkenly singing and-

reid.

it's not like anyone's rude to you, except for dr. reid, who's always on his fucking guard and keeps to himself like he's all so superior and mysterious, a man with 3 ph.d's and smarter than everyone in the room and loves to remind everyone of it.

you don't realize you were staring until he catches your eye, and you immediately look away, indignant and scowling at yourself for being caught. you stab at a piece of red pepper with your fork and aggressively bite at it. fucking doctor spencer reid, you think bitterly. he looks so miserable and irritated all the time and you hope it stays that way.

***

flashback~

it's your first day at the bau and you're so excited you can't even keep your breakfast down. you've been waiting for a breakthrough your entire career, and today is the day. you heard about what it was like working in the bau from people who have watched them. they're a family.

as you button your blouse, you grow giddy at the thought of what today would turn out to be like. everyone will introduce yourself to you, and you'll take turn complimenting each other, and then you'll find an obscure interest with every single one of them to connect over. they're a caring family, and you can't wait to receive and give some of the care as you become apart of the team. you leave with your brown bag hanging over your shoulder and a pretty, modest outfit, with your hair done not too deliberately.

the people who told you the bau is like a family was right. as you introduce yourself to them, you can't help but like these people. there is something so effortlessly cool about them, making you drawn to them immediately. jj was at the front door first, waiting to walk you in, introducing herself and the moment she finished a short woman runs towards you, jewels on her ears neck and arms clinking together as she throws herself at you, and the hug feels like one from your favorite aunt. "it's been so long since we had someone new around here!" she squealed. "i'm penny garcia!"

a woman with black hair was lingering around nearby too, and she spoke cooly and slowly, the complete opposite of garcia, "i'm emily prentiss." a man behind a cubicle poked out, his eyes kind and cheerful. he winked and said his name was derek morgan.

"you already met gideon and hotch when they interviewed you, hotch's out right now, he'll be back by afternoon. gideon's getting his morning donuts. and there's reid too," says jj. "but...hey, where's reid?"

the entire team looked around. you didn't know who to look for, but you looked around anyway.

"he was just here a second ago," penny said. "maybe he went to make copies of something."

"you'll see him later," jj brushed it off, "he haunts the place. reid is about your age, comes here early and leaves late. i'm gonna show you to your new cubicle, 'kay?"

you had nodded. jj assigned you a packet to look over, and the hour passed by with you concentrating on the packet and exchanging brief small talk with everyone to get to know them. the absent reid never showed up. by the third hour, your fingers were twitching for a coffee. you set the packet down and walked over to penny's desk, since she was the nicest and least intimidating out of all the agents. "hey," you said, slightly shy. "is there a coffee machine...?"

"oh! yeah, i forgot," she jolted from her seat. the energy in that woman never cease to surprise you. "we should've given you a tour. the lunch room is right down the hall, honey."

"grab me a coffee too while you're there, yeah?" prentiss called out to you from her desk. "black. thanks, y/l/n."

you nodded. you didn't mind picking up another cup, and doing favors for someone does make them like you better and you really wanted to fit in with the team. there was no way in hell you're going back to your old desk job; it lacked the adventure you needed and the people there had no soul to them--you shuddered at just thinking about going back there.

you found the break room with no issue and immediately bee-lined for the coffee machine. you started on prentiss' first, grabbing the green starbucks black-coffee pod from the stand. a voice stopped you in your tracks.

"she takes nespresso."

shocked, you whipped around. at the small lunch table, with papers spread everywhere was a man with brown curly hair, pushed back and out of his eyes. he looked unimpressed. you recognized him immediately; he must be the famous doctor reid who was absent from his desk all day.

flustered, you take the pod back out and puts it back in the stand, taking out nespresso. you knew better than to doubt the guy; he probably heard prentiss' voice asking for coffee and he's been around for ages, he knows what coffee she drinks. "sorry," you muttered. "she didn't specify."

he blinked slowly, and if you had just focused on his eyes alone, you would've immediately been comforted; he had kind, doe eyes, patient and gentle. the scowl on his lips and the flare of his nostrils told you otherwise, though. he didn't like you, and he's not even bothering to hide the fact. while the coffee machine whirls, you stand there awkwardly, and reid scoffed an unamused snort looking at you before turning back to his papers. you turned your back to him and stare at the steam gathering on top of the pot.

what the fuck? you didn't expect to start beef with your coworker on your first day, and yet...you rack through your mind--what did you do? maybe you offended him once on the street and he remembered your face? but you have never seen him before, you're good with faces, and if you had seen a face as pretty as his, you'd remember.

at that thought, you mentally scowled yourself. he gets annoyed just from looking at you, dumbass, you chided yourself. the coffee machine beeps, and you poured out a cup, before starting on your own.

"are you the new agent?" reid spoke again, his voice flat and emotionless but you're no newbie to the game, you knew the hostility was there.

"i am," you said, turning around and found that he was already looking at you, trying to sound as confident as possible. you thought it worked, but when his eyes racked your face for tells, you hesitated. "i'm y/n y/l/n."

"i'm spencer reid," he said. you hide your grimace. i know. "sorry i didn't come out to greet you with everyone, i was kind of caught up," he said, gesturing to the messy pile of papers on the table, but his voice didn't sound apologetic at all. you could take a hint.

"no worries," you said lightly, "i understand."

he narrowed his eyes. you repeated what you said in your head. it was a perfectly normal thing to say. what was suspicious about it? he nodded once, and the coffee machine came to save the day as it beeped softly. you turned around, poured yourself a cup, then headed for the door as fast as you could manage.

"it's nice to meet you doctor reid," you said hurriedly as you're out the door, remembering your etiquette. you want everyone here to like you, remember?

"likewise." he said shortly. and that was that.

end flashback.

***

you've been working at the bau for five months now. you'd say you know everyone pretty well, and the team made room for you to slip into their lives generously. all of them except for--predictably--doctor spencer reid. he keeps his guard up dangerously high and whenever he does decide to acknowledge or address you, it's to prove you wrong or to tell you that you're on to jackshit and you should shut the fuck up.

well. he never said that to you specifically, but you know he wanted to say it. it probably recites in his mind like a mantra.

you thought you had got along with everyone pretty well, minus the doctor you won't speak of, but now that you're sitting here at this team party, you realize you haven't made any progress at all. the team doesn't need you; since you're on the team, all they can do is to be polite to you and accept you as one of their own, but at the end of the day, they're a family and you're just the stray cat lurking outside their house looking for any spare food or love.

outside the office, jareau, prentiss, garcia, hotch, morgan and reid becomes jj, em, pen, still hotch (but more affectionately), derek and spence and you stay as y/l/n. you're tough, and it shouldn't make you feel so upset but it does. you suck it up and laugh along with everyone and you are fine with that, as long as at the end of the day, you get to throw yourself in bed and scream the frustration out into your pillow. it was starting to look up a little bit, until doctor spencer fucking reid has to go butch it all up.

jj and emily has their heads all together along with penelope as they shout out which man she should swipe right on tinder and somehow, you found yourself sandwiched in the middle of these women, genuine tears springing up to your eyes from how hard you're laughing. emily is creative with her insults and it leaves you and jj hanging onto each other shaking with laughter, holding each other in place so that the both of you wouldn't end up on the floor. you feel good. when you look up, however, you see reid's sneering, obnoxious face looking back at you, a beer on his lips and morgan talking next to him but he's more busy looking down on you. for the past five months, you've been letting it slide--emily had pulled you over once and told you how reid feels about change, and you tried to get it, you really tried, but there are limits to your trying.

you try to ignore him and turn back to penelope's phone, jj and emily oblivious and still going at it and yelling out "left! left! dear god, get that man off the screen!" but the excitement is drained out of you. you shake the thought in your head; it's not that serious, you tell yourself, but another part fights back. it is serious. he might be smarter, and more experienced, and works faster, and better, but you both have the same job. he doesn't have any right to be such a fucking dick, and what the hell did you even do? you had just walked in the office one day and when he looked at your face, he had decided immediately that he wanted you gone and have tried to express it as openly as possible ever since.

you don't understand, and you don't know what you did to deserve being so looked down and underestimated. and it hurts, too, and from just a single read of your face he must've known how much you wanted it, to be apart of the team; he's definitely doing it deliberately.

okay, the last part isn't true. you're just paranoid. you untangle yourself from the group, saying over and over again "gotta use the restroom guys...i'm sorry, i'm sorry--" and when the attention is off of you, you walk over to spencer and grabbed at the tacky sweater he has on, dragging him up.

"hey," he whines, annoyed but giving up to you easily. you can sense morgan's amused stare but you ignore it. when you're both almost out the door, he yanks himself out of your grip. "i can walk by myself, okay?" it's dark, but you know he rolled his eyes. you lead him outside to the back of the place and he follows closely behind, but not without grumbling about it. "what do you need?"

you pat your back pockets for your pack and the front pocket for your lighter. usually, you'd ask your company if they're okay with you smoking, but that's the last thing you'd be doing when it comes to spencer. cupping your hand over the cig to prevent wind, you light the cigarette up.

"you smoke?" spencer asks. he sounds surprised.

"sometimes," you inhale, keeps the smoke in your lungs for a second, and exhales, making sure most of it blows into spencer's face. you can tell that it did, but he didn't cough. poker face, you'll give him that.

you take a couple more breaths and spencer (surprisingly) waits for you silently, and when you don't feel like smoking anymore, you throw the cig on the ground and grind it with the rough heel of your boot. you look up at him.

sometimes, you get mad at spencer for how unreasonably pretty he is. he has these big eyes that you swear has glitter in them because they're so fucking beautiful in the sun and when he smiles (which is rarely, around you) the lines on the sides of his face scrunches up like a chipmunk and his eyes would crinkle until it disappears from how wide his smile is. it makes you want to bash your head inwards.

the moon, shining on his face and highlighting his high cheekbones and the wisps of his curls is not helping your case right now. you wonder how a person so beautiful can have such an ugly personality. you know that spencer's personality is not entirely ugly, though; you've seen the way he acts around the team, but when it's you, he transform into an entirely different person. no one has ever been able to tell you why. he's nerdy and giggly and has this charming, childish energy to him when he talks, and you've seen it, inside meetings you're not in and when he doesn't know that you're around.

you're sick of it. without his cruel act, you think you and spencer would make great friends. he's the only person about the same age as you in the bau, and he takes the train home, just like you do. he's afraid of walking past this creepy abandoned movie theater on his way there and you are too. you both read toni morrison and children's books. it's a shame.

you look at him, and it's the only thing you can think about. it's a shame.

"why do you hate me, reid?"

you mean for the sentence to sound demanding, like a confrontation but it comes out weak and wobbly. you feel your guts being punched out of your body from the embarrassment. you sound pathetic, and you're afraid to look up, afraid to see the ridicule on spencer's face and you wouldn't blame him for it. but all you received is silence and when you look up, spencer just looks confused. he stands there like a victim when he's the one who's been acting like nothing but a total ass to you. and that caused the rage you needed.

"answer the damn question, doctor," you say harshly. this unfreezes his out of his trance, and he looks down. it's quiet for a while, and right when you were about to start demanding again, he says, quietly:

"i don't hate you."

and it sounds like a bad fucking lie.

"you don't hate me?" you ask, your voice a lot calmer than how you feel. "you don't hate me but every time i open my mouth it offends you? you don't hate me but you sneer at me all day long, every single time i look at you you're already looking at me thinking about how fucking stupid i am. you don't hate me but on my first day you abandoned your desk to work in the fucking lunch room because you didn't want to see my face. i don't know what the fuck i did to upset you, reid, but whatever i did i don't deserve this bullshit you're putting me up with!" you didn't realize that your voice was getting progressively louder until you're yelling, unconcerned and unaware of the raging party inside. "i get that you don't like me, okay, but i-"

your yell turns into a gasp when spencer grabs your face and crash his lips against yours, aggressive and all teeth. before you could even register what's happening your body goes pliant and you unconsciously lean in, but then spencer rips away and you and shoves you forward like some cheap doll.

"what the fuck?" you murmur to yourself, trying to gain back your balance and spencer's quick to catch you swaying on your feet. his hand finds its way to your mouth.

"goddamn it y/n, keep it down," he whisper-yells. "the entire team must've heard you--"

"get off of me!" you demand, but it sounds muffled and distorted through his hand . you thrash around but he holds you steady, too firm for you to fight against.

"promise not to scream and i will," spencer grimaces. you go limp and quiet and he slowly moves his hand and then backs away, like some scared deer. "wasn't that so hard?"

you stare at him. he's leaning on the railing now, looking at the moon. the moon looks back at him.

you try not to think about the small seconds after he’d kissed you and what it meant. it means nothing. "there are better way for you to get me to be quiet," you say, a little bit angrily. you should be fuming, but you find that you no longer have the energy. he turns to you.

"i didn't think it through."

"you not thinking through something?" you snort humorlessly. "i guess there's a first time for everything."

spencer sighs. “y/n…”

it’s the first time he’s called you by your first name, and it doesn’t help his case at all. "you still haven't answer my question, reid," you say, as coldly as possible (which is not much, admittedly. all the rage you've bottled up over these past few months you've already wasted on that rant and now you just feel tired. and you want to go home).

"i'm afraid i don't have an answer you'll be satisfied with, y/l/n," spencer spits back, matching your tone. maybe even colder. it shocks you a little, how a person with that sweet of a face and voice can be this much of an asshole. it's a waste of a human, honestly.

and it's not that you're saying spencer reid is handsome, either, because handsome doesn't mean anything if the person is a jerk. but everyone can admit he's easy on the eyes. conventionally attractive, one could say. a conventionally attractive jackass, one could also say.

"you're saying you just hate on me for so reason?" you say. "i'm a profiler too, reid, not some intern running around bringing everybody coffee. i see the way you are with other people. you act like a fucking angel, kind and considerate, but when it comes to me--"

"the team, they're my family, y/l/n," he snaps, "i'm sorry for not treating you like family when you're just a stranger." and it hurt, but you give him that one. you know that you're not one of them, it's been made painfully obvious to you, on multiple occasions, each blow harder than the last. but that's no excuse to treat you like a piece of shit, like a brick laying on his way. what, did he act like that with everyone too when he first entered the job? causing scenes with emily and hoping she won't punch him in the face for it?

"i'm not asking you to treat me like family, reid," you grit through your teeth. for a genius, he can be so fucking dense. "i'm just asking you to treat me like a coworker and not some inexperienced kid who just waltzed into the place with no qualifications. is that too much for me to ask?"

he stay silent at that. a breeze visits, and his curls dance. you unconsciously wipe at your lips, the feel and memory of it still photographic on your mind.

after a while, you get tired of waiting. "if you're not going to say anything, i'm going home, reid," you say finally, not expecting a response and not receiving one. not surprised, you turned away and start to head inside. you stop by the door. "i know i'm not really 'part of the team,'" you say, scared that you might sound too honest but it's hard to care too much now, "it's too late for me to transfer back to my old department, they've already replaced me. if i could, i would, and get out of your hair. i guess i'm sorry for not being what you expected."

the moment the words slipped out your mouth, you cringe. you're starting to sound way too weak and you don't want to sound that way, especially not in front of spencer reid, who's probably going to torment and laugh at you inside his big ass head forever. you leave before you can say anything else even more stupid and humiliating. spencer doesn't leave his spot.

***

when you come into work the next morning, it's like the entire world flipped.

there's a fresh cup of coffee sitting on your desk, still steaming and the logo on it says it was from the coffee shop close to the office. when you look around, trying to find the perpetrator you catch emily's eye across the bullpen, who smirk and shrug innocently.

you stride over to her cubicle, eyes glancing briefly over spencer's. his satchel is there, but he's nowhere to be found. you set the cup on her desk, the hard paper making a loud, confrontational sound. "explain."

"i don't know what you're talking about," she says, blinking her lashes. emily can be a great liar when she wants to, and right now, it's like she's not even trying to put in the effort. you narrow your eyes. something's definitely fishy.

"yes you do. tell me."

"i don't know what you're talking about," she repeats, stubborn and sly about it. "somethings should explain themselves."

"who left coffee on my desk this morning, prentiss?" you demand, a step away from stomping your feet like a child. she's playing unfair.

"take a sip," emily says, a suspiciously plotting smile on her painted lips. "see if he got the order right."

"so it's a he," you say accusingly. "you do know who it is!"

"'course i do," she scoffs. "now take a sip."

you could only oblige. bringing the cup close to your lips, you take a precautionary sniff. "there's no poison in here, is there?"

emily snorts. you take a careful sip, clicking your tongue, judging, and then tipping your head back and getting a large gulp. it's possibly the best coffee you've ever had in your life. you don't know why you haven't visited the place earlier. it's definitely exactly what you take in your coffee, alright, but better. it's sweeter but sharper, and it tastes like heaven on earth. you could bathe in it if you could. it's godsend, and that's an understatement.

"jesus christ," you breathe, looking at the sticker on the cup in wonder. emily chuckles.

"so he did get the order right," she says proudly. "knew he would."

"emilyy," you move onto your next strategy. if pressure doesn't work, bribery will. "who bought me this. tell me and i'll bring you coffee from this place everyday for a month." it's a win-win for both sides. you're going to start visiting this place from now on anyway, might as well pick up an extra one for her. it's a small price to pay for such a sacred piece of information.

emily remains firmly resilient, not falling into your bribes. it's fair, emily takes black, and it's hard to mess black coffee up. it probably tastes the same everywhere. damn her. "two months," you challenge. nothing. "three!"

bribery, crossed off the list. next strategy. if bribery doesn't work, whining will.

"emilyy," you cry, clutching onto the coffee as you turn her chair back and forth, spinning her in frustration. "please,"

perfect timing as always, hotch passes by, coffee cup in his hand and files in the other, frown already edged on his face despite it being so early in the morning. "y/l/n," he scolds. "stop bothering prentiss and start on your paperwork. prentiss, no phones."

without another word and two eyerolls behind him, hotch walks away. you start towards your desk but you leveled emily with your best puppy eyes, but she doesn't budge. you settle at your desk, and start pulling out things from your bag. if she doesn't want to give you the information, you'll figure it out yourself.

so a guy bought you coffee. thank god there isn't many guys in the bau, making the list easier for you to narrow down. drawing up a mental checklist, you immediately cross spencer reid off, making sure his name is blacked out by a red marker, memories of last night are still floating around in your brain.

morgan is next on your list. he is a plausible target. he's a sweet talker, after all, and loves to flirt, but the person he would bring coffee to is garcia, not you. they're basically work spouses. and if it was him, why would he start bringing coffee to you now, all the sudden? and there's no way morgan would've known how you liked your coffee, he doesn't remember his own sometimes and liked to switch things up. morgan gets crossed off lightly with a number two pencil.

hotch is next. definitely not. he doesn't even offer to pay at social events (but always end up paying). he shouldn't even be on your list. crossed off lightly with a number two pencil.

rossi. rossi's got the mind storecloud of a computer, he knows everything and pays attention to everything and remembers everything. its what makes him such a good unit chief. so he definitely would've remembered how you take your coffee. he probably knows how everyone in the entire fbi takes their coffee. but if it was rossi, emily wouldn't have been so sly and secretive about it, because there's nothing special to hide. rossi gets in one of his affectionate moods sometimes and is pretty obvious about it. once he got garcia a whole box of designer chocolates, or whatever those were. rossi's name gets crossed off lightly with a number two pencil.

you evaluate your list, stumped. you start lingering on spencer reid's blacked out name, considering it before scolding at yourself. no chance.

"whatcha thinkin' so hard about?" penelope asks lightheartedly, bouncing by. she stops at your desk, an inquisitive smile on her face. you look up and she squeals. "ooh, your coffee's received!"

your attention's immediately grabbed. "you know who bought me this?"

"don't know a thing!" penelope sings. she does a zipping motion at her mouth, throwing the zip away. "ping! the zip is down the drain."

"what are you and emily hiding from me?" you demand. "however much the guy is paying you to keep quiet, i'll pay you double!"

penelope whistles, and emily spins around in her chair to face you. "that is a pretty good deal," penelope says. "but the guy paid us his loyalties, and well..."

you sigh in defeat.

"and unlimited donuts every monday from now on," emily quips.

"i can do the unlimited donuts!" you say enthusiastically. finally, something you can work with. "every monday and fridays. how about that?"

"sorry honey, no deal," penelope grins, flaunting away. emily smirks irritatingly from across the room. you go back to work, but your mind lingers on the list.

who?

***

the coffees start to become a stable. you found that it's no use picking up your new favorite coffee from the shop because when you walk into the office, there'll be one waiting for you, still hot.

the profiler gears start turning. it has to be someone who arrives only minutes before you. maybe a secret admirer from another department? but then there would be an identifying note, a card for a date or something. no secret admirer would go under the radar for that long, and how you he know how you take your coffee?

you crafted a plan. you're going to start coming to work a ten minutes earlier and hide out in the dark. it should've been an immediate solution, but its so desperate you wanted to have it as your last resort. when you have bribed and begged everyone on the team for the identity of this man since apparently the entire team fucking knows and wants to keep from you, you decide you have to pull out your one last ace.

right before the morning that you were going to do it though, the entire team got flown out to arizona.

you'll do it when you get back.

***

something is extremely strange about spencer reid.

he's been strange ever since the night you dubbed in your head as the conversation, avoiding talking to you unless he absolutely has to and when you do get partnered up together, he would treat you like an acquaintance. not a rival. it's a fresh breath of air from being the end of his cruel comments to someone he's reluctant to work with, but it's definitely an upgrade.

so you did manage to get through his thick head.

#spencer reid #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fandom #dr spencer reid #criminal minds fanfic #spencer x reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid angst #mgg #matthew gray gubler #cm #my works

[juqtier]

☆◞: IM ALWAYS JUST A DOOR AWAY ✧ SPENCER REID

SPENCER REID X FEM READER

SUMMARY: when you moved in to your new apartment, you never imagined your neighbor, spencer reid, would be such a nightmare. he wasn’t your favorite guy. in fact, you hated him. unfortunately for you, you can never seem to escape him. the universe clearly has other plans for you two.

WARNINGS: mentions of alcohol and alcohol consumption in some chapters, angsty, arguing, spencer is kind of (definitely) an asshole, kissing, cursing, somewhat darker plot points as story progresses (this is my first ever full story fanfic! so it might be bad…) this will also be 10 parts so yayyy

GENRE: enemies to lovers, fluff, angst

⋆·˚ ༘ *

chapter 1 : a nightmare..

✎Was it even possible to hate someone so much that even the thought of them made your blood boil?

You never thought that was even possible. You were always trying to see the best in people, even if they were rude to you. That all changed when you moved next door to Spencer Reid.

Spencer Reid

The bane of your existence.

You had moved into your first apartment alone, with the help of your parents loaning some money and your waitressing job, when you had the unpleasant experience of meeting him.

God, he was so stuck up and pretentious. Getting to know him might have been your biggest regret.

The first day you met him, he immediately gave you an attitude.

You weren’t all that familiar with this area, so you took it upon yourself to try and make friends with the neighbors.

As you walk up to the door and knock, you become excited at the potential of a new friendship.

Behind the door, you can hear a quiet, muffled voice and some shuffling before it’s opened to reveal a rather tall man looking down at you.

“Yes?” He sounded a bit annoyed, yet you continued your introduction.

“Hi, I’m your new neighbor! My name is-“

“Cool, I’m really busy, and if it isn’t important, don’t bother me.” The man quickly shuts the door.

You were so puzzled and quite upset.

Who just shuts the door on someone’s face like that?

-‘๑’-

However, after some time, you forgave it. Everyone has bad days; everyone is very busy at some point. Maybe he was just overwhelmed, right?

That was until you saw him again, in the parking lot of the apartments.

You found out his name was Spencer Reid from some other neighbors. This only made you more interested in getting to know him, or at least being civil with each other.

You were getting out of your car after returning home from work when you saw him coming down the stairs to the parking lot. Trying to be friendly, you waved and smiled.

“Hello!” Your expression was bright and kind, as always. Something Spencer never seemed to return. He visibly rolled his eyes at you, rushing to his car.

Did I do something wrong? Did I say something to offend him? Do I have something stuck in my teeth

Your thoughts ran wild, doubting every interaction you have had with anyone before. Were you just annoying? You barely had a conversation with the man; how could he find you annoying?

Maybe he just sucked?

-‘๑’-

For months, your interactions were the same. You’d attempt to be friendly, and he’d quickly (and quite rudely) shut you down. You had convinced yourself he was just a busy man until you were proven right. He just sucked.

Friday, 10:49 pm

Music played throughout your living room as you unwinded on your couch. The weekend had just begun, so you decided to finally relax. Work had been extra shitty today, and you felt you deserved a break. You sat on your couch, reading a book, as your favorite songs played when you heard a knock at the door.

Who could be knocking so late?

Placing your book down and quickly turning the music off, you rush to answer the door.

As it opened, you'd never been more confused to see Spencer Reid standing in front of you.

“Uh, hi? Is something wro-”

“Can you turn the music down?” He seemingly snaps, not even letting you finish your sentence.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to have it so lo-”

“If you’re going to blare your music, you shouldn’t have such terrible taste.”

You were taken aback. You were used to the interruptions, the eye rolling, even being completely ignored. But now, he was just being plain rude.

“What? I said I’m sorry.. What’s your problem?”

You were almost about to snap at him. It took all of your power to not rip into him, calling him every name you could think of.

“My problem? My problem is that ever since you moved here, I can’t get even a moment of peace. Some people have jobs and commitments.”

What the actual fuck?

“Holy shit, Spencer. I’ve done nothing to you, but all you’ve done is be an asshole to me!”

Your anger and frustration seemed to boil over in that exact moment, not caring if you hurt his feelings anymore.

“Actu-”

“No, let me talk for once. I don’t know where you work or what you do to make you think you are so morally superior to me, but fuck. You are so fucking mean.“

He seemed shocked at the sudden outburst, as you only ever showed him your bright and bubbly side. His eyes widened slightly, not expecting the blow-up.

“You don’t get to talk down to me because you’re in a pissy mood. So leave me the fuck alone.”

With that, you slam your door in his face and quickly turn around. Your fists clench as you storm to your room and flop onto your bed, letting out a groan of frustration.

God, he was a nightmare.

-‘๑’-

PT 2

a.n : sorry if this sucks or is boring! i’ve never wrote a story like this before but i hope it’s okay!

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #juqtier writes… 🐈 #cm imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst

[demonicbaby666]

A Job Offer

One Shot | Criminal Minds Masterlist | Masterlists

Fandom: Criminal Minds 

Pairing: Jennifer Jareau x fem!Reader

Genre: Angst and Smut

Words: 5.2k+

Warnings: 18+, minors DNI, NSFW, smut, cursing, fingering, oral, overstimulation, strap on use (JJ!recieiving)

Summary: Despite you and JJ not being a couple, you do share nights together, nights that are not so innocent. However, when a job offer comes your way, you have to decide whether it'd be better to stay at the BAU or accept your new position, and like it or not, JJ has a part to play in this choice.

A/n: Hi, the kids don’t exist in this timeline. Also the timeline doesn’t timeline cause JJ ain’t really liaison, but I care not. Also, leaving it on a sorta cliffhanger without a part 2 cause I’m mean xoxo

"I'm going to cum!" JJ screamed up to the ceiling, her hips moving erratically to and from the mattress, "Fuck baby, so good."

You were fucking her just how she liked it, dirty, rough and hard, pounding the strap in and out of her so fast it became a blur of skin slapping against skin, the dildo only appearing in rapid intervals. JJ's hands were encouraging your every thrust, her nails etching their distinct curved signature into the supple skin of your ass. 

"Do it," you encouraged, soaking up every desperate moan. With a slip of your hand between your bodies, you rubbed the older woman's clit, gently enough so that the sensitivity gained from the last hour of fucking was not piqued but hard enough so that the pressure would give her the needed edge over her impending orgasm, "Cum for me JJ." 

"Yes!" She cried out, her release simultaneously sparking life into every cell in her body and freezing it in its tracks. Her hands stayed stagnant but firm, keeping you fully sheathed inside her as her body shuddered and her hips ground in circles, lengthening her orgasm to its full extent. 

Slowly, a steady breathing pattern was adopted between the two of you. The hands holding you close slackened, allowing you room to pull out and fall back onto the mattress with a content sigh falling from your lips. The moment was only made better when soft blonde locks tickled your chest, and you glanced down to see JJ's head settling on your shoulder. Metal clacked quietly - fingers expertly unbuckling the harness from your hips, allowing you to shuffle it off and place it aside. 

A comfortable silence soon fell over your bedroom, warm and lulling. Your fingers traipsed mindlessly up and down JJ's spine whilst she wrapped an arm around your waist, nestled closer into your neck, and planted light kisses over the salty skin. It was easy in times like these to lose yourself, forget the daily struggles that fed your sullen mind, and imagine that life could always be filled with the contentedness you were given a brief taste of. A daydream come true, but the reality was much crueler. 

"I've got to go," JJ sighed after a minute or two, showing no intent or want of moving, "Will's back in an hour." 

"A few more minutes," you grumbled, running a hand through her hair and pulling her body in a little closer. 

No argument was made, and JJ wholeheartedly accepted her fate, shuffling her body half atop yours and moving her kisses higher to the fine line of your jaw. The finite moment lingered with sweet kisses and caresses shared, and soon, you succumbed to sleep. It's a simple but treasured thing, sleeping next to the person you've found yourself undeniably falling for. It's seeing another side of them and letting them see a secret side of you when you have no control over how you look - peaceful or softly snoring from the exhaustion of a long work day, as JJ often did. 

The cold woke you, alongside the quiet shuffling from the far side of the room. It was never a fond sight to sit up, rubbing well-earned sleep from your eyes, and see JJ dressing herself, going over what excuse she'd come up with to tell her fiance. 

"Shit," she groaned, walking over to the bed and placing a chaste kiss on your forehead, "I didn't mean to wake you." 

"It's okay," you smiled, "What time is it?" 

"Almost eight. We slept for about an hour," JJ rushed to say, double-checking her phone before tossing it into her bag, "I've got to go, but I'll see you tomorrow." 

You tried your best to give her a convincing smile and a cordial nod, though you knew it was anything but. She was trying to hide the obvious stress running through her system from sleeping in too long and, most likely, being late back home. So you - as always - found yourself empathising.

"Drive safe," you said, your false smile still intact. 

It wasn't hard to fall back asleep once you heard the front door to your apartment close. You'd become accustomed to warding off unpleasant thoughts after encounters and partings with JJ. The two options were either to feed them and entrap yourself into believing a false reality or to acknowledge that life just isn't pretty or straightforward, it's a brutal battlefield, and the only way to survive is to face the truth of a shitty situation. That acceptance kept you strong and tactile in how you responded to the predicament you'd found yourself in. So, sleep came easy, knowing you'd already surmounted the horrors that fought to keep you awake. 

The following morning was, as it turned out, not so ordinary. The routine check of your emails had you up on your feet and pacing, overcome with utter bewilderment. A job offer to run the Washington FBI office for counterterrorism had landed in your lap a while ago, and you'd taken a gander in submitting your name into the mix. In honesty, it was a drunken gander, and you had never expected to be considered, let alone chosen. But life had a funny way of surprising you then. 

Though the start of the day was somewhat unexpected, you treated it as any other, getting breakfast, driving to work, and sitting down at your desk to sift through mountains of paperwork. You'd worked in the BAU for a while, and it only dawned on you with thoughts of leaving that the work grew to be tiresome, cases were exhausting, each taking its toll on your psyche. Yet the gratification of putting shitty ass people behind bars just couldn't be matched. Plus, you adored the team. They were your family; you settled down in Virginia, and, well, there was JJ. The pros seemed to outweigh the cons, but you hadn't had time to do more research, so assuming that staying at the BAU was the better option wasn't exactly foolproof. 

"You're moving to Washington?!" A high-pitched squeal came from behind you, and you felt everyone turn to look at you as Garcia stormed towards your desk. 

Soaring from your chair, you yanked the blonde by her arm and pulled her into the hallway, ignoring the curious looks from the rest of the team.

"First of all, stalking me… Not cool," you bitterly whispered before taking a deep breath and quelling your tone. In times like these, it was hard not to find the technical analyst's snooping infuriating, but at the end of the day, the truth was her checkups came from a place of worry, "Second, I haven't decided yet." 

A flash of hurt crossed her features, "So you are considering it?" 

There was no use playing coy, "Yes. It's a good job, Garcia and I'd be stupid not to." 

"I just," she said, briefly pausing and giving you a watery smile, "I know. I'm happy for you. I just don't want to see you go." 

It was safe to assume every little outburst this woman had was down to her rampant emotions and her fundamental problem with change. That's why it was hard to stay mad at her. She honestly didn't want to see you go and was most likely beating herself up for feeling so conflicted. You'd be lying if you said you hadn't known what that felt like. 

"Come here," you open your arms to her, and she gladly accepts the gesture by falling into them, "I promise I'll tell you what I decide. Plus, I'd never let you miss the opportunity to throw me a killer goodbye party." 

"You better not," she grumbled, pulling back to fix her hair, "We've got a case, by the way. Hotch is waiting in the briefing room." 

"Well, rally the troops, and I'll see you there."

The briefing went as briefings do: information was handed out, and vivid imagery was shared and imprinted into your head forever. However, the presence of JJ next to you did help. She had a calming aura, and all you'd have to do when you felt as though the world was a shitty place - which it very much is - was turn to her and admire how her smile could be so warm, how her fleeting reassuring touches would pacify your sunken mood and how throughout her whole time at the BAU she'd remained so strong and still so loving, and you'd feel fine. 

"You okay?" JJ asked as you walked to the car, "I heard Garcia this morning, and you seemed off during the briefing." 

"I'm all good," you lied, giving her a smile when she opened the passenger door for you, "I have a lot on my mind, that's all." Not a lie. 

She appeared sceptical, her eyes zoning in on you and creasing every so slightly at the sides. But she must have pushed it aside whilst closing the door and making her way around the car because the next thing she said was, "Well, I'd be happy to take your mind off it later." 

You chuckled at that. It was no secret that JJ had a high libido, and hell, if you didn't love it, particularly in times when she'd ravish you all night and would still have the energy to go again the following morning. It made you feel the most wanted you'd ever felt during the entire duration of your hapless life. The passion bred in nights spent together was mind-numbing. It felt like you found your escape with each other - away from the team, your home lives and the constant strain of cases. Somehow, even the mention of your nights together, previous or upcoming, had a way of putting your mind at rest and eliciting a beaming smile to grace your lips. 

"You know I'd never say no," you said, smirking, admiring how JJ mirrored your facial expression as she started the car and headed to the airstrip.

It was the truth; you'd never found a good enough reason to decline her offers, and the likelihood was you wouldn't. She had a way of twisting you around her fingers and never letting you forget it. Lunches, catch-ups, and, even once, a weekend trip away had been cancelled, and to think all it took was one phone and a particular husky voice at the other end of the line requesting your company. 

So, true to word, after a long day, you snuck into JJ's hotel room and found a pleasant surprise. She lay sprawled out on the bed, stark naked, a tantalising smirk adorning her lips. One index stretched out then curled in a come hither motion, and you practically leapt. 

"Someone's eager," JJ chuckled, cutting herself with a moan as your lips descended to her neck.

"Can you blame me?" You said, words slightly muffled, with you nipping and sucking at JJ's throat. 

"Mmmm, I'm not complaining," she hums as she tilts her head back and grabs the neckline of your t-shirt, "Though I will complain about you still wearing clothes," she moved her hand down to the lining of your shirt and tugged, "Off." 

Sitting up, you rid yourself of your shirt and bra, much to JJ's delight. No matter how many times she's seen you naked, she still looks at you like it's the very first time, and that in itself gets you wetter than the thought of all your exes combined. 

By the time you were done revealing your upper body, hands were already grasping at the waistband of your trousers. The irony of her earlier comment staring you right in the face was too hard to ignore, so you let out a breathy laugh whilst saying, "Now look who's eager." 

To that comment, JJ stopped her efforts to take off your trousers and instead used them to yank you forward, the tip of her nose brushing against your stomach. She darted her head down and harshly bit the side of your hip bone with a growl. You had to hold your bottom lip between your teeth to stop a moan from spilling out. 

After her display of dominance, you knew two things: JJ wanted to be in control tonight, and by the look in her eyes, if you weren't naked soon, you'd face some heavy consequences. 

"Okay, okay," you surrendered, helping her remove the last barriers between your naked bodies. 

Instantly, she had you on your back. Stationed between your legs, she looked down at you with blown-out pupils, shamelessly taking in the sight of your bare body on display. 

"Stunning," she whispered, sounding more like she was talking to herself than to you, but you seemed to blush regardless. 

JJ left you no time to repay the compliment before her lips crashed down on yours, and her tongue demanded entrance, which you readily granted. She swirled the muscle around your mouth in a practised dance, stopping now and then to nibble at your lips, then going right back in. The way she kissed was addictive, and often, you thought you could come undone just from it alone. She'd perfected the art of being rough yet gentle, fast yet slow, passionate yet loving. It set your whole body alight, made your throat dry, and your knees weak. Even when laid down, you felt your body failing you, the mattress against your back a reassuring fail-safe. 

Tender kisses fell lower, marking an invisible path to your collarbone, where they took their time dotting an array of scarlet blotches into your skin. JJ knelt back, smirking as her eyes darted over the canvas of bruising marks before she got back to work, lowering herself back down to the juncture of your breast. There, she became softer, pecking lightly from side to side till she was close enough to encapsulate a firm nipple into her mouth and lather it with her tongue. She knew your body so well - too well, you sometimes thought - you hadn't even needed to mourn the isolated attention to one breast before a warm hand cupped neglected flesh and began to knead. 

"Oh god," you whimpered, pushing yourself further into JJ's mouth and hand. 

You felt her lips curl around your breast, likely proud of herself for getting you worked up so fast despite knowing perfectly well she could do so with much less in her arsenal. Gloating put aside, JJ brought her free hand resting beside you to your thigh, squeezing the muscle - her thumb skimming the outskirts of where you almost certainly needed her. She continued to tease, and a protest lingered on your tongue, watching JJ brazenly settle on paying homage to your stomach, planting kisses high and low, but never as low as you wanted them. The pit in your stomach grew bigger, and the ache between your legs became more painful, yet the blonde paid no attention to your dejected whines. 

Finally, when even the rutting of your hips did nothing, and the wriggling about only brought JJ back to your neck, you half huffed, half moaned, "Do I need to beg?"

Oh, so pleased with herself, JJ retorted, "I'd like that very much."

Choosing your release over your pride, you grabbed the sides of JJ's face, pulling her up so she was at eye level before confidently saying, "Please fuck me, JJ. I want to feel your fingers inside me. I want you to make me cum so hard that I can't walk tomorrow."

"Mmm," she hummed, her hands squeezing both your breast and thigh, "Well, since you asked so nicely." 

The cursed thumb that had been endlessly teasing you moved, brushing lightly over your clit. As brief as the stimulation was, it was enough to cause you to jolt and grip the bedsheets. JJ retired her hand from your breast and clung to the pillow behind you, fingers running through the wet mess between your legs. 

"I love how wet you get for me," she husked, placing a quick peck on your lips and ignoring your disapproving grunt to being denied more, "I want to watch you." 

Just as she made her plans known, she thrust two fingers inside you and watched your mouth open in a gasp, biting her lip at the erotic sight. You burned, not only from her eager gaze but from the biting pleasure that ran its way along your spine and caused all your muscles to tense. The room faded to dark, your eyelids drooping, letting you hone in on the sea of sensations swimming through your body. Your chest rose and fell with every sharp intake of air you took, and it only became worse when JJ started to move, sliding her fingers out and then plunging them back in. She did this over and over until you felt as though you might burst. There were bulbs of sweat forming over your brow. Your lips were permanently parted. Your jaw shook with each breath. You were so close to the edge but not close enough. Then a thumb began caressing your clit, and you almost screamed in relief. 

"Yes," you hissed, hips bucking up and down as JJ angled her fingers to run over ridged flesh, "I'm going to cum."

"Open your eyes," she tenderly whispered, kissing your temple, then leaning back again, "Look at me." 

You did as instructed, watched JJ sway above you, saw the reverence in her eyes, and gazed into them as you felt the knot loop tighter and tighter in your stomach. She moved faster, using her hips to fuck into you harder. In a flash of white, your legs were shaking, your fingers tearing into the bed linen as your release poured out of you right onto JJ's fingers. All you could do was loop your arms around JJ and muffle your shaky cries into her neck, praying you wouldn't be heard. 

The two of you stayed intertwined like that for a while, her fingers still inside you, moving slowly and steadily until you winced from being so sensitive, and she delicately withdrew. You had to blink to make out the room decor again: a wooden bedside table with a flickering lamp atop it, a sorry-looking armchair sitting idly in the corner and a dainty coffee table beside it. 

"You okay?" JJ smiled above you, brushing strands of hair out of your face. 

Returning her smile, you gave her a nod before pulling her down for a passionate kiss. You threaded your hands through her silky hair, scratching at her scalp and enjoying the content sighs she let out. There was a harmony to how you and JJ fucked. Where you'd often find in relationships one person getting off a significant amount of times more, a giver and receiver dynamic if you will, that was nothing like what you two had. Together, you walked the line of balance well, but at that moment, feeling her above you, tasting her tongue in your mouth, and remembering the way she looked at you whilst giving yet another brain-numbing orgasm, it made you want to give her more - give her everything. 

You wanted to make sure that come the following days, she'd be so sore she wouldn't even consider letting Will touch her, let alone fuck her. Trying to eliminate the possessiveness and jealousy that lay dormant within you was useless, so in times like these, you used it for good. You could show JJ that no one else could do this for her. Her body was painted into your mind so clearly that you could be blinded and still tell it was her from touch alone. You could have your memory taken away, but with a pencil and paper, you'd draw the dips of her hips, the creases beside her eyes, and the jutting knuckles that run along her slender fingers. No one else knew her body like you; the need to remind her of it was dire. 

Using her kiss befuddled mind to your advantage; it was easy to flip the tables and trap JJ beneath you. The move earned you a shocked yelp, though the second your lips found a dusky nipple, no complaints were heard. Only sultry moans warmed your ears. 

Palms pushed the back of your head down whilst JJ arched to fit more of herself into your mouth, and you dutifully took her in. It didn't matter that you could hardly breathe, not when you could feel and hear how JJ's breath was catching in her throat and how her heart was hammering against her chest. 

After giving the older woman's breast the much-needed attention they deserved, you sought your sights lower. Leaving a shimmering trail down JJ's taut stomach, you crawled back on the bed and positioned yourself comfortably between two muscled thighs. A sharp inhale from above, and hands fisting in your hair were sign enough for you to drive forward and deliver a long lick along JJ's slit, closing your eyes to enjoy the bitter flavour of her exploding over your tastebuds. 

It wasn't long before you worked JJ up into a wiggling mess. It was painstakingly evident from the tireless efforts of the blonde's buckling hips that the lack of notice of her clit was becoming a problem. Taking pity, you sought to eradicate JJ's frustrations. With one final up swipe of your teasing tongue, you brought your lips to her needy clit and sucked. The gratification echoed around the hotel room as JJ slapped a palm over her mouth to keep quiet. 

You kept going, alternating between sucking and licking, occasionally moving south to tease JJ's cunt with the stiffened end of your tongue, then returning to her clit. 

"Don't stop," JJ breathily begged, "Don't you dare stop."

And you didn't, not for a second. You continued lathering JJ with unbridled pleasure, coaxing her body into a quivering mess until the muscles in her stomach were painfully tense and only then did you ease two fingers inside her. The pace you immediately set was vigorous, thrusting in and out of her so quickly her body was struggling to keep up. With her head flung back, JJ came with your name on her lips, breathily panting. Yet, still, you wanted more. 

Sitting up, you waited for JJ to regulate her breathing as she held tight to your forearms and only then did you start moving your fingers again. Nestling your head in her neck, you moved faster, finding and hitting a spot deep inside JJ that had her digging her nails into your skin, marring you with crescent moons dotted in red. The pain only motivated you to keep going, fucking into her harder until she was all but screaming and sure to be heard. You didn't care. She was perfect like this: panting, out of control and solely focused on what you were doing to her. 

Your arm began to protest; it ached and cramped, but you fought hard against it, using your body to drive in and out of JJ's exhausted pussy. Over and over, she spoke your name, hushed this time, as her awareness of where she was prevailed. 

Sensing JJ's orgasm from the pulsing clenches around your fingers, you snuck your thumb over a tender clit and added another finger to your thrusts. The additional force sent her toppling over the edge, but you didn't stop even then. You continued to fuck her right through her orgasm, biting into the flesh of her neck to keep her crying out. 

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!' JJ cried out, "I-"

She never finished, a third orgasm rapidly washing over her, snapping her spine and leaving her motionless, half off the bed. Her jaw was trembling, and her eyes wedged closed, but the starting of a contented smile was tugging the side of her lips. When she slumped down on the mattress, she was boneless and limp, her chest heaving as she struggled to draw in steady breaths, "Fuck," she finally whispered, her eyes still closed and a tear falling down the side of her cheek, "Fuck." 

Settling down next to her, resting on one elbow, you mindlessly traced patterns along her glistening stomach, smirking proudly to yourself. Aftercare had always been a big thing between the two of you, and after what you'd just done, she looked like she needed it. So you stayed that way for a while, laid down together, occasionally sharing innocent kisses and soft smiles until you wound up in each other's arms. JJ lay atop you, her leg becoming a blanket to your waist, her head and breath a chest warmer. 

"When were you going to tell me," JJ asked, and you looked down to see her eyes already on you. 

Moving strands of silky blonde hair behind JJ's ear, you give her a questioning look, "Tell you about what?" 

The question seemed to infuriate her. She shuffled out of your embrace and leaned back against the headboard, giving you a blank stare. "You don't want to go," JJ proudly stated her opinion as fact, arms folded across her chest as a finger steadily taps away at her forearm, "You know you'll get bored sitting behind a desk so much."

Brushing off the fact she had a point and focussing on remaining civil but not coming off as a pushover, you held your ground, "It's a good opportunity, and I'm not not considering taking it," you were silently begging her to understand, your eyebrows knitted together and lip wedged between your teeth.

"Come on, you can't be serious," she humorlessly laughed. The audacity of her tone gave you half a mind to walk out. You didn't, though, because this had to happen at some point, be it now or in a few days. 

"What's left for me here?" you asked, eyes trained on the blonde, your finger under her chin keeping her from looking away and trying to escape. If she wanted you to stay, so desperately as she seemed to, she owed you this, "Give me one good reason I should stay." 

Her lips parted, her jaw moving up and down in small increments. It was like the words she wanted to say were there, but she was fighting to get them out. You gave her time, looking at her with expectant eyes, softening your gaze to encourage whatever was trapped in her bobbing throat, but nothing came. Then her mouth snapped shut as though someone had tugged on an invisible string sewn through pink velvety lips, permanently sealing them. 

The silence became too loud. It sought to engulf you, swallow you up so that all you'd hear was the sound of your own broken heart beating so painfully loud it made your chest ache. Your arms felt limp as you slung them to your side and rolled on your back, staring at the ceiling. It felt cold and bare without the promise of another comforting embrace because somehow you knew there was an unspoken realisation that this was truly the end of something. 

The stinging behind your eyes had made itself known fully, and you couldn't handle JJ seeing you like this. Straightening yourself out with a roll of your shoulder and a lengthy exhale, you stood up, threw on your clothes while ignoring the awkward atmosphere that circulated the room and made your way to the door. Turning back before you exited, you sneered, "I thought so," and slammed the door shut behind you. 

To say the next day was awkward would be an understatement. If the team had noticed the tension between you and JJ, which they most likely had, they used their better judgment to ignore it and focus solely on the case. From the corner of your eye, you noticed their regular stares, but you knew it was their way of ensuring you were okay. Once you caught on, you offered small smiles and brief nods that told them all was well, and you were thankful that that was enough to ease their curiosities. 

It wasn't till much later in the day, when you were packing up to head back to the hotel, did JJ acknowledge your existence, and you weren't having any of it. She approached you as you slung your bag over your shoulder and started walking out with Reid and Emily. Instead of doing the mature thing, which would have been to wait for JJ to catch up and deal with your suffocating predicament, you gave her the cold shoulder, ignoring her presence completely and walking out. 

A faint sigh came from the room you'd just vacated, and you fought against your better judgment to head back to the hotel and put the whole day behind you. It was for the best; you needed time to think, and you still had a looming decision hanging over your head. It was a life-changing decision; you couldn't afford to cloud your mind with a frivolous affair. 

With what comfort a shabby mattress could offer, you settled back, opened your laptop, looked at some apartment listings, checked over the job description a couple more times, and re-read the email, indeed confirming you had been offered the job if you wished to take it. Despite your best efforts, the god-forsaken argument continued to play in your head: JJ's dejected look when she was unable to voice her true feelings, the razor-sharp tone she used to admonish you and most of all, her inability to give you the one thing you needed that would have turned the tables and made your decision for you. 

A knock at your door pulled you from said incessant thoughts. You'd have been grateful for the distraction had you not sensed who would likely be your 'knight in shining armour'. Rising and looking through the peephole confirmed your suspicions, and an involuntary groan slipped free. 

"Real mature," JJ quipped. Taking a deep breath and then staring pleadingly into the peephole where she knew you were standing, she tried again, "Sorry. Please, can we talk?" 

The door fractionally opened, enough for you to slip your head out and huff, "I'm exhausted, and I don't think I have the energy to deal with this now." 

"I'll give you one," she muttered under her breath.

"Give me what?" You huff. 

Opening the door to let her in, already fed up with where this conversation was inevitably headed - which was most likely an argument - you move over to lean against the outdated armchair. 

JJ watched your movements as she shut the door and stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, "A reason," she began, looking down at her left hand. You curiously followed her gaze. There on her finger sat an elegant diamond ring, glinting in the lamplight. It was a sickly sight, and the vexing thing was it never used to be. Your stomach lurched, forcing you to avert your gaze to keep yourself from spewing your dinner onto the atrocious carpet. Honestly, it was a mystery that the team wasn't investigating who committed this interior design crime. 

"I don't want you to go. I want you to stay," she took long strides towards you, and you shot your head up to see, in the blink of an eye, JJ was standing tall right above you. Her fingers fidgeted with her engagement ring before she slipped it off and let it fall to the floor. The boldness of the move left you momentarily frozen until you were pulled to your feet by your waist and felt a pair of lips ghosting over yours, "And if you'll have me, I want you."

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[theoreticslut]

「 saltwater kisses 」

penelope garcia x fem reader

summary: when penelope is having a moment, you come to the rescue with plenty of kisses & reassuring words.

requested: yes

word count: 0.7k

warnings: cm spoilers!, heavy use of pet names, crying, mentions of death & car accidents

a/n: ahhh this fic makes me so soft. i’m not really sure its any good, but it makes my heart happy. to be able to comfort penelope would be a dream - solely bc shes such a cupcake and to see her sad makes me sad. anyways, i hope you guys like this! ♥

“Pen, what’s happened, sugar-bee?” You ask as you walk into your girlfriend’s office to find her sniffling.

“N-nothing. I’m okay.”

She immediately tries to wipe her tears away and hide from you, but both of you know you're not one to let things like this slide. 

“Penelope Garcia, my girlfriend is crying and I need to know why so I can help fix it.”

“It’s just, I think I ruined things with my brother. I messed up really bad, and I - I don’t think he’s ever going to want to talk to me again.” She croaks, trying so hard to swallow her tears.

“Oh honey, I’m sorry. Come here.” You coo, opening your arms up for the woman even though you’re walking to her in her desk chair. 

As she pushes herself back from her desk, though, you sit on her lap, practically straddling her as you pull her into a tight hug. 

“I’m so sorry, Penny. I know how much your brothers mean to you.” You pout, leaning back to look at your beautiful girl, her arms holding you up. 

“Did you make the decision you felt you needed to at least? Even if your brother doesn’t agree with it?”

“I did. I-I finally forgave that drunk driver that hit my parents. I-I realized that he’s not the one to be blamed, at least not anymore. I can’t keep being angry at him when I was the reason they were out.”

You frown as she starts to tear up again, and being her girlfriend - and a profiler - you know that she’s taking all the blame now.

“Hon, you can’t blame yourself either. You were a kid, and we make dumb choices when we’re kids.” You start, softly kissing her cheeks where her tears have left small tracks.

“But I-“

“No. Yes, you were out late, but your parents made the choice to go out looking for you. They cared for you and wanted to make sure you were safe - which you are.”

“It is not your fault - any of it. You were out, but they made the decision to go out looking for you, and that guy made the decision to drive after drinking.”

“It was simply just a collision of decisions, sugar-bee. You’re not the one that made them go out that night - that was their choice, okay?” You ask, hoping your words get through to her and she actually takes them to heart. 

You can’t stand to see her beating herself up over her parents’ death. It was a tragedy, but it was in no way her fault.

“But they were looking for me.” She nearly whispers, and you feel your heart breaking all over for her. 

“Honey, look at me. You did not make your parents’ choices. You were not in their heads telling them to go out and look for you. They decided to do that on their own.”

“Who would you blame if they had gone out for a movie and got in a crash instead?  No drunk driver, no little Penelope having been out past curfew, but just them going out for a movie and crashed on the way home? Would you blame yourself then?”

“Well, no, but-“

“But what? They’re different situations? Of course they are, honey. No situation is ever going to be the same as the one that happened that night.” You begin to debate. 

“If they hadn’t gone out and looked for you, and thus never got hit, then that’d be a different situation than what happened, too. Nothing can change about what happened without making it a different situation, Penelope. It’s awful what happened, but sometimes all we can do is learn to live with it. Things happen to others, regardless of what we do, because everyone makes their own choices.”

You watch her after your little speech, noticing the way her eyes are still full of sadness but her tears are drying up.

“I know it’s a hard situation to live with, honey, but that’s all you can do.” You murmur, wiping at the last few tears on her cheeks before kissing their remnants.

“I love you, y/n. Have I told you that?” She questions, watching you.

“A few times, but I always love to hear it.” You smile, drawing a little laugh out of your girlfriend.

“I love you times a million, Penelope. You own my heart, and always will, I’m sure.”

—————————————————————

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[mrs-weasley-reid]

you're too sweet for me

(young) Aaron Hotchner x bau!reader

Summary: Opposites attract, but Aaron reasons that it doesn't mean the magnets should connect. Just because he's in love with you doesn't mean he has to admit it.

Warning: Angst.

A/N: inspired by the song Too Sweet by Hozier

— ✦ — ✦ ✦ — ✦ ✦ ✦

From the moment Aaron Hotchner met you, he knew you'd be the death of him.

Your bright aura. Your friendly personality. Your witty jokes. Your everything. You.

He would be lying if he said he wasn't drawn to you like everybody else. In fact, he was probably one of the willing victims of your sweetness.

The two of you joined the academy at the same time. Compared to Aaron, you were the one he would call a magnet. You had everyone attracted to you like a moth to a flame, and all you had to do was smile.

Finding out that you both got a position at the Behavioral Analysis Unit gave him such a euphoric daze. Aaron thought he was just happy that he got the job he wanted. But if he had to admit, seeing you was one of the reasons that it felt right.

"Good morning, Hotch!" You came in like the morning sun, filled with energy and blinding light. You slumped on your swivel chair with a chuckle, "Y'know, smiling a little bit won't kill you. How are we supposed to recruit more people to the team if you're frowning all the time?" You coaxed with a playful grin, easing onto your desk that sat across from him.

You were the first person to ever call him Hotch, getting the idea on accident over a cup of coffee. You were in the middle of bringing his mug in the name of being a kind teammate when you rattled on a simple, "Be careful, it's hotch!" followed by bursting out of laughter after the innocent mistake.

And since then, you couldn't call him anything else. Aaron wasn't thinking of correcting you anytime soon. After all, you two have been working together for the past five years, contributing to the continuous development of the BAU.

One other thing...

Aaron Hotchner has been in love with you for years, and kept it buried in the deepest corner of his heart.

Why?

He thought of many things.

First, your coffee order. He took his coffee straight black. The bitterness kept him awake enough to function. You, however, had some step-by-step concoction that kept you insanely energized for the day.

Second, your bedtime. He stays up as late as he could. The silence brought him peace as he listened to his pen scribble on his action report. You, however, slept as early as eight in the evening or as soon as you were allowed.

Aaron wouldn't hesitate to say more, but it'd take him an eternity.

He knew so much about you that someone might render him a creep had he mentioned it to anyone else but himself.

Because one thing Aaron Hotchner knew well was you.

And he knew you'd change in an instant if someone asked you to.

Aaron couldn't possibly have you do such a horrible thing.

The world needed your brightness. Aaron convinced himself that the world needed you more than he could ever do.

You were too good for him, too sweet.

So, why ruin the incredible person you are?

His love for you could be treated with constant denial, but whatever damage he could do to your bright spark would be a crime.

Loving you was a crime.

"I got it!" You erupted in the bullpen, jumping like a three-year-old child. Your vision caught Aaron, who had just walked in. You snatched him into a tight hug as you continued to bounce on your feet.

Aaron couldn't stop his lips from curving, melting into a puddle as he felt your arms wrap around him. His body stood frozen, but his heart was beating so loud he was afraid you could hear it.

Jason Gideon came out of his office to see the commotion, David Rossi right behind him. The two founding fathers of the unit curiously wondered what may have made them stop in the middle of a chess game.

"What's the jumping for?" David had his eyebrows knitted but was enjoying the way you celebrated with joy.

Another reason why Aaron couldn't possibly admit his feelings for you. You were contagious. Your glee always affected everyone, influencing an individual with the tiniest sound of your giggles.

You retracted away from Aaron, facing David. "I got the position in Interpol!" You exclaimed with pride, gasping for air after your prior actions.

Jason and David raised their eyebrows, accordingly giving you a congratulatory embrace. You felt their happiness for you in every bone they had almost crushed. Still, you paid no mind. The news made you feel elated, fueling you with a sense of fulfillment.

"It'd be different to not have you here, but I'm proud of you. Interpol would be glad to have you." Jason remarked with a satisfying nod. "You ready to move to Washington?"

"Even better," You bit your lower lip from excitement, "I'm going to France!" You clasped your mouth with both your hands, containing your squeals behind it.

Aaron heard his entire heart shatter into pieces as your triumph echoed on the walls of the bullpen. Everything became a blur and muffled.

Years of keeping his feelings a secret was no easy task, but at least he got to see your sweet smile each day. He couldn't imagine his life without listening to your random fits of laughter.

How was he going to survive a day without your daily reminder that he was human and not some poker-faced mannequin?

Who would complain about his bitter taste for coffee?

Where would he look when he needed a source of hope in the form of a warm smile?

What would he do without you in his life..?

But you just looked so proud, so excited, so... happy.

So, Aaron Hotchner put up a brave face and soft smile, "Congratulations."

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