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thatlittlered · 2 days

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would've, could've, should've | aaron hotchner

warning(s): one whole curse word, smoking, stunning amount of fluff and a little bit of action

GIF by @littlecarmine

part one

part two

author's note: Sorry for the delay, hope it was worth it! I also want to thank the sweet anon for the ask with the Robert Siken poem, which I included here. Next part will be straight-up filthy smut, so stay tuned, fellow sluts.

Follow me @MadeofLilies on Ao3 and let me know if you want to be tagged here.

-.-.-

You don’t see much of each other for the next couple of days. Aaron is on autopilot, avoiding any chance to be alone with you. The rest of the team unknowingly act as a buffer and all he has to do is not look at you during work hours, keep the door to his office shut to not hear your laughter.

It’s a relief when you and Morgan are called to testify in court for a case. You’re somewhere far away for the day, where he knows you’re safe and he can go back to pretending nothing has changed.

The problems start when he’s not being kept busy.

How much paperwork can one person do?

The stars align oddly in his favor and he’s into calls or meetings until long after everyone else has gone home. When ten pm rolls around, he finally calls it quits but sees no point in leaving in a hurry. It’s past Jack’s bed time, it’d be cruel to wake him up now and carry him back home when tomorrow’s Sunday. If all goes well, he can pick him in the morning and they’ll get to spend the day together.

His finger is hovering over Jessica’s number when he spots your name in his call logs. It’s silly and childish, but he hasn’t thought of you in a couple of hours and God.

Deep down, he knows he’s been incredibly unfair to you. He had to. Had to tell himself it was something outside of him causing him torment. An obstacle to overcome, a distraction to ignore. He had to act as if you were forcing your way into his life in order to be able to put up walls, but what have you really done except exist near him? He is the one to blame for allowing it to grow beneath his skin; succumbing to his need for some sort of intimacy when he could have -should have- nipped this at the bud a very long time ago. He recognized it within himself the other day, when he realized he could have -should have- kissed you.

But nothing is healed with a kiss. Only new grievances arise.

It’s where you go from there that matters and he finds himself unable to guide or be guided.

Where do you go from here?

When he decides to feed his insomnia with a cup of late-night coffee, he is yet again reminded of you. So, he calls, but you don’t answer and he pours another, completely indifferent to the idea of sleep.

It’s getting too late to be here, even by his standards. He tries calling again, but, no answer. He gathers his stuff to leave and there is a horrible feeling at the pit of his stomach when he settles inside the car. It’s only eleven and you always say you never sleep this early.

Another call, this time to Emily, who miraculously, picks up.

“Hello? Hotch?”

There is a deafening buzz in the background; loud voices and music blasting.

Aaron apologizes for the late hour and tries to be discreet when he asks about you. Says he needs to go over something about a case file but you won’t answer his calls and he got worried.

“Yeah, she’s fine, she’s right here with me, but it’s a little hard to get her right now. Is it urgent?”

“Uh, no, don’t bother her. Is everyone else there too?”

“Not everyone, just the two of us, Garcia and Morgan. Do you need them as well?”

You didn’t invite him, why would you? He would have never said yes.

“No, it’s okay. I’ll figure it out tomorrow.”

“Sorry, sir, I can’t make out much with all this noise. We’re at the ‘Matter’ if you need us. I’ll tell the guys to call you as soon as they can, okay? Have a good night.”

So, he drives two miles a little before midnight to come sit outside ‘Matter’, which is apparently a very busy nightclub downtown, half a mile away from the nearest parking spot he could find.

He doesn’t really know why he came.

He can’t come in and join you. Can’t ask for you.

They probably wouldn’t even let him in while dressed like this.

It’s very unclear what the next step is.

He knows it’s pointless to call you again when you’re probably too busy dancing and drinking with a great many people who are not him. Morgan has some trouble keeping his hands to himself when he drinks.

He sits on the curb of the street, cracks open the pack of cigarettes he snack out of the car’s glove compartment, always hidden below the insurance papers. Astoundingly loud music plays every time the doors to the club open and people come out stumbling, kissing sloppily and dragging each other away.

He just wants to see you and put this horrible feeling inside him to rest.

“No fucking way.”

He jolts at the sound of your voice and throws away the cigarette, putting it out with his shoe before he turns to see you standing outside the club. You approach timidly until you can be sure it’s him and when you step closer to the streetlight, he can really see you. The clothes you could never wear to work, the shoes you apparently spend all your money on. You’re beautiful.

He can’t possibly move until you’re sat beside him. For the first time in what seems like forever, now that he’s grown so used to it, you keep a very respectable distance between your bodies.

“You didn’t have to throw it away; I already saw you and,” you pick up the abandoned carton from the sidewalk and almost laugh at how immaculate it looks just having been opened, “I have so many questions. Since when do you smoke?”

His voice is quiet, unamused.

“Almost never.”

You look at him curiously and he thinks you would make a great interrogator simply by the way you make everyone around you spill their souls out if it will satisfy you.

“Sometimes when I’m very stressed.”

You hum, “I never would have guessed that.”

He laughs to himself and looks at his hands.

“Yeah, I’ve been doing a lot of things that are not typical of me lately.”

You help yourself to a cigarette and he cups his hand over yours when the breeze makes it too hard to light up.

“Is that because of me? Am I a bad influence?”

“No. It’s me, I’m the common denominator.”

You hum again and smile at him teasingly in an attempt to lighten the mood, “Breakthrough.”

“So, this is what therapy is like?”

He wants to thank you, for always trying to make things as easy as possible for him. You open the door and difficult as it may seem, all he really has to do is walk through it.

“No, of course not. I wouldn’t smoke in session.”

“Oh good.”

You’re sitting closer again and Aaron doesn’t know how. He doesn’t think either of you moved. He keeps his eyes on the road in front of him, glances at you only from the corner of his eye. Your perfume mingles with the smoke of the cigarette and it’s all a haze to him.

“Why are you not inside?”

“I needed a breath; it was very loud and packed in there… and I finally saw your calls.”

He hums, unable to find anything else to say.

“Why are you here?

“I don’t know.”

He knows that is not a good enough of an answer.

“I always have this terrible feeling that something is going to happen to you.”

Your shoulder touches his and he can admire the smoothness of it, focus on each mark there to avoid the dreaded eye contact.

“Do you think that fear is reasonable, or is it rooted in something else?’

His eyes shut tightly, “Don’t do that, please. Don’t talk to me like I’m a subject.”

“You use your ‘agent tone’ all the time outside of work.”

His voice deepens, “I am aware.”

Heavy breathing.

“I’m sorry I did all that and then backed out at the last minute.”

“It’s alright. I think I knew you would.”

“See, that’s even worse.”

You look at his suit, the wrinkles that have formed in the shirt underneath from the hours of wear.

“Did you come here straight from the office?”

A sigh, “Yeah.”

You nod your head in understanding and move to put out what’s left of the cigarette.

“I’m alright. I’ve got the others too; they’ll take me home. You can relax now.”

“I don’t think I ever can.”

You don’t know what to say really. If what he needs is time, you can give it, but he seems undecided as well when he picks up your hand.

“I think I’m scared of what will happen once the line is crossed.”

A confession.

That, you did not expect.

“Aside from the complications at work, I just,” his hand rubs gently on the spot your watch has left its mark, “I have proved time and time again that I can’t handle any relationship beyond professionalism and once we stop being just colleagues, I will lose you completely from my life.”

“Do you think that line has not been crossed already?”

He laughs quietly.

You can both feel the bouncer looking at you and Aaron is suddenly aware of how vulnerable he is right now.

“I guess it has.”

You’re both quiet for a little while.

“I have to go back inside now, or they’ll start getting worried.”

He looks like he’s about to say something, but no words leave his mouth.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell them you were here.”

That hurt. You know it, but what else was there to say?

“Maybe tomorrow you’ll know.”

You give his hand a reassuring squeeze before you leave and he’s left staring while you go back inside.

-.-.-

A little past two, the girls drop you off in a shared cub before going their separate ways and you rush to your apartment building, only to find Aaron waiting there.

“Well, you certainly have a thing for sitting on curbs.”

He looks tired, so tired, and alone in the empty street. It’s very hard to maintain your position when he always looks this beaten down in his most tender moments. You wish to care for him, love him back into happiness but that wouldn’t be fair.

Still, you can’t help but go to him and he is relieved that you sit closer this time.

“Have you been waiting here this whole time?”

“It hasn’t been that long.”

You softly take his right hand to look at his watch. His body relaxes at the touch.

“Huh.”

“Did you have a good time?”

“Yeah, but I’m a little more drunk than the last time you saw me.”

Your skin glows under the soft moonlight and he notices.

It is technically tomorrow now.

“How drunk?”

His face moves closer and you can’t help but shiver at the sudden change. His breath is warm on your face. The words come out in a whisper.

“Not that much.”

That’s all it takes.

His lips press against yours once… then twice and then… he doesn’t stop.

You always thought he’d be one to kiss carefully and with absolute purpose, just like he does everything else, but he kisses like a man on fire. He seeks to quench something deep inside of him and you provide happily. The remnants of your lip gloss tingle on his mouth, as if kissing you alone is not enough of an awakening.

It’s becoming increasingly hard to keep up with breathing when he envelops you so, and cages you in the pleasant whirl of his scent. When you break away for breath, he’s quick to capture you once more. His hands come to your face to keep you there until he’s had enough, but how he can he ever have enough of you?

He only lets you go because he has to. You’re both practically panting and he can’t decide what to do. He wants to kiss you, look at you, touch you, but it cannot all be done at once. When your own hand comes to his face just below his jawline, he melts under the touch. His eyes are sunken, his body is begging for rest, but it would not come without you.

“Do you want to stay with me tonight?”

His voice is low and breathy when he nods.

“Yeah…”

-.-.-

You walk upstairs, hand in hand, and Aaron can see your own exhaustion is taking over. Something started with that first touch. Your bodies wish only to find comfort near each other.

His breath is warm on your neck while you open the door, his hands softly placed on your waist with the excuse of keeping you steady. When you move to take off your shoes, he is behind you again, as if tied to you with invisible thread, and holds you gently by the elbow when he sees you struggling.

You’re suddenly very aware he is in your house again. Touching you.

“Can I get you anything?”

He shakes his head no, but you’re too focused on the way his hand moves languidly up your arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake, before tucking your hair behind your ear.

“Do you need me to get you anything?”

He is so caring. So soft below the austere guise.

“I just need to take a shower,” you almost stumble backward and he thinks it’s the alcohol, but it might just be the feeling of his hands on your face, “I must have fifty different people’s sweat on me right now.”

“That’s okay. I’ll wait.”

His voice is soft – tired.

You turn on the lights for him in the living room and he gives a half-smile when you check on him again.

“I won’t be long.”

Once left alone, he gets to look around your house. He sees your carefully assorted nick-knacks and smiles at the framed pictures all over your bookshelves. He can’t help but notice you’ve chosen one, if not the only, photo of the team that he’s also part of.

He is important to you too.

He can see you in every corner of the room, in the books you buy and the realistic-looking-but-admittedly-fake plants sprinkled here and there for a lack of time to take care of any real ones. He can even see you in the soft material of the couch when he sits and lets his cheek touch the fabric. He has been here before in a dream, with your head in his lap.

The room is awfully quiet save for the gentle ticking of the clock on the wall and the sound of running water in the background. For a man that’s usually so good at sitting alone with his thoughts, he suddenly can’t stand it.

He knocks gently on the bathroom door and opens it slowly, only to be hit with the dizzying cloud of warm steam. Your head peeks behind the shower curtain and he can tell you got tired of standing and sat in the tub instead.

“Is it okay if I sit in here with you?”

You thought he’d sit on the toilet seat, but he crawls to the edge of the tub and sits on the bathmat with his back to you.

How close is close enough?

Now that he’s ventured, he doesn’t think he’ll ever be satisfied.

So, he closes his eyes and rests his head back on the, now warm, porcelain.

“Aaron.”

He doesn’t know if he actually fell asleep, but the water is now turned off and you’re looking at him. He realizes now, for the first time, that you’re naked behind him. Your hair and eyelashes are angelically wet, the sheen of water on your flushed skin is divine. He knows that you’d be warm if he touched you now.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes.”

You smile at him -siren- and your hand grabs a handful of his shirt, staining it with water that reaches his body underneath and makes him shiver. You kiss him with plump wet lips and he reaches for you. His hand entangles in your hair until you’re both practically pulling at each other.

A less enamored man would have broken away just to sneak a peek at your bare skin, but he won’t. He is respectful even now, even like this.

“I should have kissed you the other day. I’m sorry I didn’t.”

It’s a whisper when his mouth leaves yours, but you catch it.

You hum, eyes glossy, “Would've, could've, should’ve.”

What matters is now.

He kisses you again – just one more time. You both feel like giddy, lovesick children.

“Can you hand me my bathrobe?”

The bathrobe is also impossibly soft to the touch and when you emerge clad in it, he thinks he’d like to hold you. The spell of the warm steam is broken outside, however, and being so close to your naked body suddenly becomes very serious.

You let him sit in your bed, still fully clothed, save for his suit jacket, and he closes his eyes again. The comforter underneath is lovely.

Is everything in this house soft?

Is this what it feels like to be loved by you?

You disappear inside the walk-in closet and reappear, now properly dressed in your pajamas. The bed dips when you sit next to him and he turns to you completely.

“I have a T-shirt you can sleep in, don’t know about pants though.”

Please. Just be here, with him.

He watches you leave, but it’s not long before you return with the aforementioned shirt. You laugh when he finally realizes he’ll have to sleep in his boxers.

“Don’t worry, I won’t take advantage of you.”

He throws a teasing look, but can’t possibly come up with a clever answer right now.

“I’ll go dry my hair and you can get dressed, alright?”

You are so gentle with your guidance that it makes him feel like a helpless child, but there’s a hidden relief at that. It’s nice; being cared for like this and there is something to be said about parallels, with you going now to do as you had done a week and a half ago in a Florida hotel and him waiting for you – on your bed.

It’s the same, but it’s different.

He hangs his work clothes carefully on the chair in the corner of your room and goes to sit on the bed, but feels too uncomfortable to climb under the covers. He knows you’d find his duality funny; how he goes from hungrily kissing you to being too embarrassed to join you in bed, even if it’s only for sleep.

You notice his stiffness when you come back in the room, but don’t say anything. It’s not exactly easy for you either, you’re just better at hiding it than he is. You choose to lead by example instead and turn off the lights before reaching for the one on your nightstand and climbing inside your bedding.

He only speaks to deflect attention from him again, “You have a TV in your room.”

“Jealous?”

He turns to look at you and you’re perched up on the plump pillows, smiling at him. Your hand reaches for his own over the comfort and you gently pull him to you.

He comes, of course.

“I don’t watch a lot of TV.”

“Of course you don’t.”

He joins you with his back on the pillows and his shoulder touching yours, but he’s still too stiff.

“What do you watch?”

“Mostly reruns of sitcoms-,” he laughs at that, “-Seinfeld.”

“Isn’t that show a thousand years old?

“You would know.”

He laughs again and you can almost make out a wounded pout on his face, but a kiss is enough of a cure. His shoulders relax and he gives in to the warmth and softness; be it the bed or you next to him. You can tell he’s barely managing to stay awake, but he still can’t let go completely. His head slumps backward again.

“Can we turn it on?”

You find the courage to caress his hair, admiring the softness of it and the discreet sprinkle of grey that you can only see up close.

“If you want.”

The quiet humming of the television and your breath in his ear, putting his mind to ease, are enough for him to finally sleep and you’re not long behind. His head is turned to the side where you are, hand tightly holding yours.

Later in the night, when you stir in your sleep, he pulls you further into him – wraps his arm around you completely and doesn’t let go.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #thomas gibson

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dudeitiskarev · 1 month

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Maybe Someday | Ch. 1

A Spencer Reid mini series

Chapter summary: After seventeen years, you show up in Spencer’s life. Or rather, he comes and find you.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x female reader

Rating: M

Tags/warnings: 4x7 spoilers; mentions of suicide; reader is a sex worker.

Word count: 1.7k

Author’s note: my beloved secret Spencer series is coming to light 🥹 she’s been mine for two years and I decided it was time to wrap it up and share it. This is the first chapter of 13 (+ and epilogue) and chapters are around 800 words to 3k so it should be an easy read! I hope you like this first part and I’d love to know what you think! Mwahhh

SERIES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

When a case unlocked memories in Spencer’s gifted brain, he expected everything to go as he suspected: so wrong.

It didn't quite go wrong. He got the answers he needed, but not the ones he truly wanted. He was wrong about everything, something he wasn’t used to.

The good thing was that his father wasn’t a murderer after all, and at least it was over.

Or almost over.

Thirteen minutes until midnight and the only reason Derek and Rossi agreed to drive Spencer to the darkest alley in Las Vegas was Garcia’s fault.

"Are you sure about this, Reid?” Morgan asked, turning on the SUV blinkers and glancing at Spencer through the rearview mirror.

“I really wish you’d stop asking me that.” Spencer unbuckled his seatbelt, ready to step out of the car.

Derek sounded like a broken record by now.

“Look, kid, we’re just trynna’ help.” He softened his voice. “Case is over. You can let it go now.”

The Riley Jenkins case was, in fact, over. Although letting it go was the last thing Spencer could do when last-minute Garcia filled him in about a person that wasn’t really involved in the case, but was connected to it to some extent: you.

“We don’t even know if she’s gonna be here,” Morgan continued. “She could be dead by now.”

“Yeah, and being here is the only way I could find out.”

Rossi had never seen Spencer like this, so he had to ask, “What’s with the sudden interest?"

"I don't know." Spencer lowered his tone.

All he knew was that there were more memories he needed to unlock, even if they led to something he would’ve been better off without knowing.

“Alright.” Derek raised his perfect brows in defeat. “We'll stay here. Call us if you need anything."

“And make it quick,” Rossi added. “Or else we’ll miss our flight.

"I will.” Spencer stepped out of the car, looked both ways, and jogged his way to the other side of the street—determined to find you.

According to Penelope’s recent discovery, you were related to the molester—Gary Michaels—and that fact was enough reason for Spencer to extend his stay for a few more hours. He just needed to know if you were okay. Alive.

“Look at that, neighbor,” Garcia had teased him during the phone call that morning. “She used to live five houses away from you.”

Images of a girl came to him as soon as Penelope said your name. You used to wear red shoes to school and… that’s all he knew. All he remembered.

He tried to dig up some more memories while his long steps took him to the street where he somehow knew he’d find you.

And he was right.

There you were, standing alone in a corner, pulling your jacket and purse close to your body. It was chilly, and your clothes barely covered any skin. You looked exactly how he thought you'd look after all these years—17 to be exact.

Same features, just… more grown.

Every word he knew flew away with the soft breeze of the night. You were alive, and he smiled to himself at the thought of you being more than a forgotten memory now.

He brushed his hair out of his forehead and hesitated whether to walk up to you and ask you how you’ve been or if he simply should be satisfied with knowing you were still skin and bones and let it all go.

He paced back and forth for a whole minute, thinking about the pros and cons of a still hypothetical conversation with you.

"It's $300 an hour, pretty boy." Your sweet voice blared around the empty street. “Only handjobs.”

Spencer looked around to see who you were talking to. There was no one else.

It was so foreign to hear someone other than Morgan calling him a pretty boy. More so when you didn’t even turn around to actually think he was a pretty boy or not.

He slowly made it closer to you with both hands inside his pockets. "Uh, I don't—” Spencer cleared his voice once he was a few steps away. “I'm not looking for—"

"Then leave me alone.” You were quick to cut him off. “I'm working."

Oh.

He reached for his badge and flipped it open even when you hadn’t bothered to turn around. “I’m with the FBI, is it okay if I ask you a few questions?”

Your body froze for a moment but didn’t turn to give him a single glance.

“Look, I already talked to the cops. If this is about Trent and his stupid–”

“It’s about your uncle. Gary Michaels.” Spencer cut you off with the softest voice.

Your body stiffened, and after a moment, you finally turned to him, giving him your full attention. "What about him?"

Spencer gulped at the way you reacted—at the clearer sight of your face, too. Furrowed brows, clenched jaw, incredibly pretty, and the most beautiful eyes he’d ever seen—he was sure his heart skipped a beat.

He swallowed thickly again before asking while wringing his hands. “How close were you two?”

“We weren’t. Why?”

“They found the remains of his body.”

Your only response was an audible breath that slipped through the twitch of a smile.

It was relief.

“Thanks for letting me know.” You nodded politely.

That smile seemed to be the end of the conversation but he didn’t want it to be over yet. “I heard about your brother, too,” he then blurted out.

You scoffed as if he’d told you the funniest joke. “Is that what you’re bringing up to keep the conversation going? My dead brother?”

Another brave step brought him face-to-face with you. “I heard that they found some letters from him.”

“Sorry?” You raised your brows as your eyes widened.

“Letters. Handwritten letters. They’re sti–”

“I don’t wanna know, alright?” You cut him off, lifting your palm and signaling him to stop talking. “I don’t need that. He made his decision years ago and I… I don’t need that.”

He said your name to get your attention once more, but every time he opened his mouth, he got closer and closer to setting off a grenade.

“What is this? Some interrogation?” You raised your tone. “Who even are you?”

"I'm Spencer Reid.”

Your face softened as soon as he said his name—like he’d pinned back in the grenade—enough reason for him just to keep talking.

“I’m pretty sure we were neighbors when we were kids,” he added.

You arranged your features to your already usual frown and stared as you said, “I remember you.”

You did?

“What do you want from me, Spencer?" You then added.

What did Spencer want? There wasn’t anything else to solve.

"How have you been?" He merely asked.

You forced a smile and looked away for a second. “Better now that I know Gary’s dead.” Then you turned to him again and stared again, this time with curious eyes. “How did he die? Exactly?” You tilted your head.

“He was beaten to death.” He raised his brows.

“Was that… recent?”

“No, it happened years ago.” He gulped for the eighth time before adding, “Let me ask you this, did he ever do anything to you? Or your brother?”

“I don’t see how that matters now.” You looked down.

“He’s dead, but he’s still under investigation. So we’re still gathering information about him.”

You hummed, shaking your head. “He barely even talked to me, thank god. He only liked boys. He really, really liked my brother.”

“I see.” Spencer narrowed his eyes.

Silence filled the space between you and him. It seemed as if memories were flashing right before your eyes.

“We lived with our grandma,” you began. “And when she heard about how his son was a child molester, she, uh, she killed herself. She couldn’t bear being responsible for such things,” You said, looking into the void.

And then you lost your brother in the same way.

Spencer’s chest tightened.

"What happened after?” He asked.

“No one wanted to look after us. We were troubled kids, so we ended up in an orphanage. Curtis was two years younger than me. He hung himself before turning sixteen. He’d been depressed since we were kids and I guess he couldn’t do it anymore. And I couldn’t keep living in the same place my brother died so one night I… just ran away.”

Spencer assumed you’ve been on your own ever since, and the tough shell you put out into the world was there to protect the little girl with red shoes.

“That’s all the information I have. I don’t know what else you need to know but you won’t find it with me.” You sighed. “So if you’re done, please leave. You’re scaring away my customers.”

A car passed slowly in front of you. By the look on the man’s face, he needed the service you provided and Spencer would stay next to you all night if it meant you’d be safe from those kinds of men.

There was something about you being all alone that didn’t feel right.

“I can help you get out,” he said.

You laughed. You really laughed then. You had a cute, contagious laugh. Spencer’s lips tugged at the corners into a small smile.

“You’re cute.” You wiped a fake tear off the corner of your eye. “I don’t know what makes you think I want to get out.”

“I can see it in your eyes.”

“Oh, really?” You stood right in front of him with a challenging stance. “What do you see in my eyes?”

Everything about you was intimidating—from your eyes to your voice, even the way you blinked—and yet he wasn’t phased by it, or he didn’t let it show, at least.

“That you don’t wanna be here. That your family failed you. And if you were given the chance, you’d leave this place.”

“My eyes tend to lie a lot.” You raised your brows, scanning his face up and down. “I’m a good liar.”

“I’m sure you are, but they’re not lying to me.”

You scoffed, breaking the staring contest. “Look, I appreciate whatever you’re trying to do here but it’s not working. Just leave me the hell alone, alright?”

He couldn’t fight you anymore, but that didn’t mean he was going to give up easily.

“Call me if you need anything, okay?” He reached for his wallet and took out a presentation card, handing it to you. “Anything at all.”

You stared at it for a moment before accepting it. He gave you a tight-lipped smile and took a few steps backward, waving goodbye.

Something about the way your hand shook when you took the card told him he had to miss the flight and stay for another night.

I hope you liked this first chapter! I’d love to know what you think! Comments and feedback are much appreciated 😊

Next chapter one-sentence teaser👀:

(…)

“Spencer?” Your soft sob woke up all of his senses. “I’m a good liar and I lied earlier. I do need… to get out.”

(…)

I’m planning on posting 2 to 3 chapters a week depending on the engagement it gets 🥰

Next chapter

#Spencer Reid #spencer reid x reader #Spencer Reid x female reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid self insert #Spencer Reid x you #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x fanfiction

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marvelwitchergilmore · 10 days

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Cardigan

Summary: Spencer Reid x Fe!Reader (BAU Agent) -> A case, a cardigan and a life time of memories help both you and Spencer realise something about yourselves.

Disclaimer: Not proof read. Mentions of Criminal Minds level violence. 16+. Fluff, pining. Descriptions of being attacked and falling into a river (but ends safely). Garcia sorting out two blind oblivious idiots. Happy Ending.

23:49

Usually, people were asleep close to midnight. Usually, people were dreaming of their favourite TV show and character, imagining a world where they worked alongside them or danced the night away with them in a ballroom that could make a Disney Live-Action movie jealous.

However, that was not what you were doing.

Instead, you were opening up your bathroom door and walking back inside your hotel room. The carpet a little rough beneath your feet, you unravelled your hair from the towel and began ringing out what was left of the water from your shower.

Moving over to your closet, you pulled open the door and found what you were looking for.

A cardigan.

The Cardigan.

The one you wore whenever you were in need of a little comfort because, despite owning it and washing it multiple times over the years, it was still him.

One touch of the fabric and it was like being transported back to the day he gave it to you. Or, at least, let you borrow it then proceed to keep it.

The case had been in Colorado.

Four female students had gone missing in the space of two months. And, as much as it could be considered a coincidence, they all matched the same description and had last been seen at a convenience store, with fresh spray paint of their single initial.

And, on the fourth night of the case, you were at such a place.

All it had been for was a snack run for yourself, JJ and Morgan. However, as you began walking back down the street, you heard the shake of a spray-paint can and, the minute the stranger found your eyes, they set off running.

And so did you.

Making a call on your way, you shared your location with Garcia who patched in Morgan and Reid from the precinct.

“Hey, wait! Stop!”

Round a back alley corner, you lost them. You walked further up to see if you could find a trail, however, all you found was a small bridge and a river.

And as you looked around, from behind you, you felt someone try and run you down and it became a struggle.

Fighting back and forth until he took hold of your jacket and pulled you over the edge with him.

Disorientated from the fall, you struggled to find your way back up to the surface and when you did, you were only dragged back down.

However, in all the commotion, a light came from the bridge and your attacker suddenly let go and, from the waves of the water, began swimming away as fast as he could.

Coughing up the last of the water, you pulled yourself up the edge of the riverbank, laying on your back until your heart rate slowed down enough for you to catch a decent breath.

“Hey, hey! Y/n! Look at me.”

Turning on your side, you tiredly pushed Morgan’s hand down from your face. “I’m fine. I’m fine.”

“Do you think you can stand it?”

You nodded. “Just give me a minute.”

“What the hell happened?”

“You mean other than me being dragged into a river giving me flashbacks of college?”

“Y/n!? Y/n?! Are you okay?”

“She’s fine, pretty boy.” Morgan called back up the riverbank as Reid made his way down.

“Are you sure?!”

“I’m fine, Spencer. I swear.”

Having made his way to your side, he kneeled down a little, checking you over. Only when he touched your skin did you realise you must have hit your head under the water on something because it was stinging from an open cut.

“Sorry,” Spencer said as you hissed.

“It’s okay, Just…help me up.”

Spencer did as he was told and Morgan led the way back up the bank.

By the time you made it back to the precinct, considering it was closer than the hospital and they already had a paramedic waiting, JJ and some other officers had found the Spray Paint runner, and had pictures taken of the job he had done outside of the store.

Having taken a shower in the locker room, Emily passed you through some of your spare clothes which consisted of a black t-shirt and some grey joggers. You were sitting in the hallway, your hair was damp and still dripping a little around your shoulders. Meanwhile, in your hands lay one of the pictures the CSI had taken.

It could have been a coincidence, but more than likely it wasn’t.

It was your initial.

A shiver had taken hold of your body, whether from the truth or the cold you didn’t know.

“Hey, here.”

From down the hall, Spencer approached you and removed his cardigan. “You’re cold.”

“I’m fine, Spence.”

“You fell in a river and now have washed, wet hair in a building filled with AC. You’re cold. Here.”

With a slight smile, you took the cardigan from him and in almost an instant, it warmed you. It had been warmed by him and now it was warming you.

“Thank you.”

Spencer smiled, looking around before picking up the towel that was laid over the back of your chair.

“Here.”

Slowly pulling your hair around to one side, Spencer rang out the last of the water with the towel.

“Did they get him?”

Your voice was quieter than usual.

“The spray painter? Yes. Hotch has him in interrogation right now. Morgan and Emily are out looking for the guy who attacked you.”

You just nodded, part of your brain reliving the attack.

From the back of your neck, Spencer could see a large bruise. It wasn’t too bad, but he knew it still hurt you considering whenever you moved in your seat, it seemed a struggle.

“But I don’t match the MO.”

This was something you couldn’t wrap your head around. You were out of college age range. The girls kidnapped didn’t have the same features. Similar, perhaps. But not the same. You hadn’t been in any similar places, other than the convenience store.

“We’re thinking that perhaps he revisited some of the old sites.”

“And I’m the one that is closest to his victims…”

Spencer nodded and you took a deep breath, handing him the picture. “I can’t keep looking at that.”

You both sat in silence for a few minutes until Spencer finished and placed the towel down on the back of the chair again.

“I was thinking about picking up some food, how about you come with me?”

Taking in a breath, you collapsed your hands between your knees and stood. “Yeah. Let me just use the bathroom.”

Spencer nodded, watching you push the door to the ladies room open, before Hotch walked over.

“You’re taking her out?”

“Yeah, I thought it would be best.”

Hotch nodded. “Maybe try and get her to talk about it. See what she remembers. Anything that can help us track down the attacker.”

“Ready to go?” Spencer said, watching as you came out of the bathroom door.

“Yeah.”

Sitting in the passenger seat, Spencer drove through the small town, and a little down the highway towards the only decent diner close to the town.

In the passenger seat, you kept your eyes fixed on the scenery outside the window whilst the scent from Spencer’s cardigan blocked out the scent from the cheap shampoo one of the officers had found in a locker.

Every now and again Spencer would glance over at you, that swirling feeling in his stomach getting stronger and stronger. When Garcia had patched the call through, he had heard your voice and something dropped in his stomach. He tried his best to remain calm, asking where you were and what you saw but when you went quiet, just before he heard a grunt in pain, his heart dropped.

Spencer had met you in the Academy.

Like himself, you too had been a child prodigy of sorts so you were around his age, too. Often, you found yourself in the same circles, however a small part of each of you seemed to compete against one another.

An exam, a race, a training course.

However, neither of you were too focused on your small rivalry to not help when the other needed it.

After all, after Hotch, you were the one to help Spencer continue to hold his gun licence.

And he was the one to help you finish up paperwork on those late nights.

And when he saw your body unmoving on the side of the riverbank, it felt like his heart was shattering.

It felt like you had been there for most of his life and you had, at least, for his adult life. And the thought that you wouldn’t be there for the rest of it brought such pain to him…he didn’t know what to do other than try his best to remember your voice and the way your hand fit into his as he helped you up from the grass and how you felt, leaning against him on the drive back.

He didn’t want to let you go, so when Hotch said someone should watch you, he was the first to say yes.

He’d known you the longest and, for what it was worth, he knew you trusted him enough that if you wanted to open up, it, in one way or another, would have been to him.

And he was right, by the time he pulled up outside of the diner, you explained all that you could remember to him. From the turnings you took, to the feeling of being under the water and having a split second of thinking you wouldn’t make it back to the surface.

And when you cried, wiping away the tears on your cheeks with the sleeve of his cardigan, Spencer unbuckled his belt and reached over, hugging you so tight it was like if he ever let go, he would stop breathing.

You thought back to that night as you slipped your arms through the sleeves.

There had been a couple of different nights after that, that you thought of when you took in the feel and smell of The Cardigan.

One such night had been when Spencer and JJ had been out in the field. You had stayed back with Garcia, however that same feeling of having someone pull your heart so far back in your chest it began to hurt your spine, washed over you again.

The only thing that helped settle it was wearing his cardigan.

It was rare you did wear it, however when you did it was often for comfort and to settle your nerves from whatever was happening.

Garcia didn’t say anything, but she smiled.

She’d seen you wear The Cardigan when you came back from the Colorado case, and when you were stuck in the office late at night a few months later, and whenever she called someone on the jet when you fell asleep on Spencer’s shoulder, his head resting on yours.

But this was the confirmation she needed.

Both against you, and Spencer.

So, when nightfall came and you had decided to wait for the rest of the team to get back, she finally said something.

You had been sitting at your desk, leaning back in your chair, a pencil poked through your hair whilst a pen twirled in your hand.

“You should talk to him.”

“What?”

Garcia smiled. “Reid. You should talk to him.”

“Why?” your stomach dropped. “Is everything okay? He’s not-”

Garcia shook her head. “He’s okay. But, you should talk to him.”

“Why?”

Penelope placed a hand on your shoulder, the soft wool of the cardigan under her palm.

“This is his.”

It wasn’t a question. It was a statement.

“If you're worried he doesn’t feel the same?” Garcia pinched the fabric and shook it a little. “This is proof he does.”

“What are you-”

“For being a top profiler, you guys sure don’t know how to read a love story when it’s right in front of you.”

“Pen-”

Garcia just smiled again. “Talk to him. You’ll be surprised.”

She took her leave from there, calling out her goodbyes from the entrance door. Not too long after that, the rest of the team walked back through the door to collect the rest of their things, and if you weren’t mistaken, they all seemed to have a quiet smile on their face when they spotted what you were wearing.

However, in the end, it was just you and Spencer. And Garcia’s words kept circling around in your head.

“Hey, Spence?”

He turned around.

And you chickened out.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, I- it doesn’t matter.”

“Oh, okay. Well…goodnight.”

“Night.”

What you didn’t notice as Spencer left was when he took another look. You had your back to him, so he could take a slightly longer look. The feeling in his heart grew a little more as he took in the memory of you in his cardigan.

You had tried to give it back, sneakily. However, he thinked you looked better in it. And, due to the feeling in his heart, it would forever be yours. So, he made sure to be out of the office before you one night so, when you found it looped through your bag, you had no other option but to keep it.

And now, with it holding your body. Holding your soul. You took in its scent.

You had been in love with Spencer since shortly after you had both joined the BAU. He was the first familiar face you saw when you landed in the office. He’d already been there at least five years, maybe bordering on six when you joined. And all it had taken was a simple coffee order.

You had changed your coffee order since you’d both been graduates since the Academy, however, despite the change…Spencer didn’t have to ask.

He turned up at the door of your apartment, holding out the cup for you when you opened the door to let him inside.

All he did was stand in your apartment and look around, whilst you drank him in. You’d both changed over the years and of course you had liked him, ever since you first met him. Anyone that took the time to know him, liked him, too.

But there was something.

Maybe it was his confidence.

Maybe it was the fact he knew your favourite coffee order after six years of not seeing one another.

But either way, you knew.

You knew you loved him.

A familiar knock came to the door of your hotel room, knocking you out of your memories and back into reality.

An hour later, you were sitting downstairs with the others, examining all the old case files, begging for something to jump out.

JJ sighed and threw one of the finished case files onto the table. “I’m beat. I can’t find anything. I think if I close my eyes, I can see the text written on the back of my eyelids.”

The others felt the same so it wasn’t long before they, one by one, went to bed.

Leaving just yourself and Spencer by the warming fire.

As it approached four in the morning, you closed your file and rubbed your eyes.

“Anything?”

“Nothing.”

“I think I’m gonna go to bed. If I look at this case file much longer, I’m gonna be like JJ.”

However, despite wishing to go to bed, you must have fallen asleep on the sofa as a few moments later, Spencer’s hand was on your shoulder.

“Hey, you fell asleep.”

“Oh.”

“I would have left you, but you’ll probably wake up with a stiff neck.”

“Oh, yeah.”

Spencer helped you sit up and you watched him tidy away a couple of the case files. They were safe enough in the boxes considering the entire team had all the rooms in the hotel booked out.

Once he had done that, you tidying up a few of the boxes, Spencer fixed the fire guard in front of the diminishing flames when you stood and said;

“Goodnight, or…Good morning or…whichever it is. I’ll see you when I wake up.”

“I love you.”

That stopped you in your tracks and woke you up.

With you back still to Spencer, you took a moment to breathe. Maybe you had just imagined it.

You heard Spencer whisper something to himself, a small battle growing large in his head over letting those three words slip.

Until, he said them again.

And this time you heard him crystal clear.

“I love you.”

Turning around slowly, you were soon met with his own back.

“What?”

Your voice, despite how much you thought you had your emotions in check, wavered.

Spencer turned around to face you. “I-I’m sorry. I-I should just let you-”

“Spencer, wait-”

You practically jumped forward, reaching out for him to stop. And he did.

“Say it again.”

Standing so close to him, the heat you felt…you couldn’t tell if it was from the diminishing embers or from Spencer himself.

“I love you.”

“Do you…” you swallowed, looking down for a moment, feeling his fingers trace yours. You finally looked back up to his face. “Do you mean it…as in…”

“M-more than what we are.”

It was his turn for his voice to shake.

“Are you…sure that you…”

“Sure enough, like how I know how…how to…breathe. Although, right now I don’t know how much of that is true because…because I don’t know how to-”

You placed a hand on his chest but Spencer’s own hand came to cover yours and moved it over his heart.

“I’d say you’re breathing.”

Spencer smiled. “Good.”

“I love you. I-I don’t know what this means, or what it will do and, honestly, I didn’t mean to tell you like this but I was thinking and then, I started overthinking and, I don’t know, when you said goodnight, I meant to say it back and then I-”

“Spence. Spencer,” you tried your best to slow him down. His heart was practically beating out of his chest. “I love you, too.”

“You-you love me, too?”

“I do.”

“You do?”

You nodded, holding his face in your hands. “I do. I love you, too, Spencer. I-I always have.”

From your hips, one of Spencer’s hands stopped at your waist, pulling you in just a little bit closer until your body was flushed with his before allowing his other to move further up, brushing the hair from your face and across your back. His finger traced the shape of your face, before settling under your jaw, bringing your face closer to his.

He took it slow.

Even despite the fact you had reciprocated his feelings of love, he gave you time to opt out. To say no. to push him away.

Flicking his eyes from your own, to your lips and back again. The first touch of his lips against yours was soft, barely fleeting.

Until you kissed back.

Your relaxed hands pulled him slightly closer, first by his neck, then by the collar of his shirt. All the while, his arms snaked around you, holding you flush against him.

“I might be a few years late in asking, but,” Spencer said once he finally managed to catch his breath. “Can I take you on a date?”

“Yes. Yes, Spencer. You can take me on a date.”

Years Later...

“Did I ever tell you you look good in this?”

“Your cardigans, you mean?” You smiled as Spencer took hold of your hand and pulled you closer. “Oh, every day. But I don’t mind hearing it again.”

“Well, you do.”

With a smile as he pulled you down and onto his lap, you kissed him, your arms coming around his neck and across his shoulders.

“Good.”

It had been four years since Spencer had first admitted his feelings for you and, even if life had sent you both through trials and tribulations, you’d both made it alive, together and stronger than ever.

It hadn’t taken that long for the rest of the team to figure out something had finally happened between you two, however, it still had taken a while. It was only because Morgan recognised a second cardigan that had belonged to Spencer less than a week earlier suddenly wrapped around you one late evening.

“And speaking of cardigans…” you sat up a little straighter to see Spencer as he leaned his head back to take you in fully.

He still looked at you with as much love and adoration as he had done that early morning in the hotel. Perhaps even more.

“We’re gonna need to buy a couple more.”

“Didn’t you just buy one yesterday?”

“Perhaps,” you nodded. “But this one isn’t for you, well…us…exactly.”

It hadn’t taken long for you to start wearing Spencer’s cardigans on a daily basis, but he was more than agreeable to it considering whenever he saw you in one of his, his heart soared and he knew you felt safe in them, too.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, considering ours might be a little too big…”

Then it clicked for Spencer.

“You’re…”

From a small pocket in your cardigan, you pulled out a positive pregnancy test.

“You’re gonna be a dad, Spence.”

Tears already starting to fall from your eyes, you watched as Spencer welled up and with a shaking hand took hold of the test to look at it.

“You’re pregnant?”

“I’m pregnant.”

“You’re pregnant!”

“I’m pregnant!”

In a sweeping kiss, Spencer pulled you closer as you slid down and lay against his side, your legs still over his.

“We’re gonna have a baby.” Spencer smiled, turning from the pregnancy test to you with a smile unlike any other you’d ever seen on his face.

“We’re gonna have a baby.”

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fe!reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #fluff #angst #criminal minds level violence #kissing #happy ending #falling in love #bau agent #bau agent reader #spencer reid x bau agent reader #spencer reid fluff #rivals to lovers #friends to lovers #she fell first but he fell harder #jeapordy realisation to love

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milla984 · 1 year

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It's the Great Pumpkin, Spencer Reid

Summary: Spencer and Reader get to spend some quality time together on Halloween

Pairing: virgin!Spencer Reid x fem!reader, virgin!Spencer Reid x plus size Reader

Category: smut (NSFW, 18+, MDNI)

TW/CW: heavy kissing, handjob, fingering, brief mention of an anxiety attack, body image insecurities (both parts)

Word Count: 5.4k

This work is part of the series Spencer Reid, my beloved

“I am officially traumatized,” Penelope blurted out when the end credits rolled on the screen, “remind me to never watch another Halloween movie with you, guys!!”

You could almost hear Spencer squeak in disbelief. “What?! This is a classic!”

She stood up to adjust her skirt, the one with jack-o’-lanterns and spiderwebs arranged in a casual pattern all over the dark fabric, and the bats standing on top of her fuzzy headband wiggled in different directions.

“Uh–uh, La Dolce Vita is a classic. This is what goes on in the twisted mind of someone who desperately needed a hug and a large cup of hot cocoa with a ton of whipped cream and sprinkles as a child.”

You smiled as you finished loading the dishwasher, amused by the discussion unfolding in your living room; in your heart you were the greatest admirer of Spencer’s ability to conjure up any kind of random information on the spot but the exact moment you saw him open his mouth you knew he was about to make the situation worse.

“In fact, Barker’s grandmother had a fascination with the macabre. She would often tell gruesome stories which she presented as true tales so he grew up with the fear of being murdered in his own house.”

Garcia gawked and raised a hand in his direction, simultaneously turning your way. “See?! Forgive me if I don’t think that having my entire body ripped apart by giant hooks is the ultimate frontier of pleasure!”

“And I’ll never look at a puzzle box the same way! What if it’s a brain teaser from Hell and there’s one of those chattering monsters inside?” she added and you had to hold back your laughter because Spencer’s perplexed frown was probably one of the cutest and funniest things in the whole world.

The mustache glued to his upper lip and the cravat he wore over a white shirt and black vest were only adding to it so you forced yourself to remain serious. “I’m sorry… pizza and a movie from my dvd collection were all I had to offer on such short notice,” you said, to which she replied by shaking her long, wavy hair.

“Oh no, sweet pea! You did great, I’m just too attached to the illusion that life is a rainbow to be into the traditional Halloween gore,” she sighed and wrapped herself in a colorful poncho. “Hey, Raven Man! Ready to leave?”

Spencer squirmed: an IQ of 187 and still he was unable to come up with a semi-plausible lie when it came to hiding the truth from his friends. Feeling the weight of her curious stare he swallowed nervously.

“I was kind of considering the possibility of going to the midnight screening of Nosferatu, at the Silver Theatre. It’s the 100th anniversary so the Silent Orchestra will play the entire score live, have you ever heard of them? They use contemporary musical idioms to convey the art of pre-talkies films to modern audiences, they’ve been widely acclaimed for their work.”

Penelope raised an eyebrow. “Midnight screening, huh?! Which means you don’t need a ride home… what a coincidence,” she teased, leaning forward to squeeze you in a passionate hug. “I knew it! I saw it the minute I walked in!”

This time was your turn to shrug with a puzzled expression: Reid and Garcia should have been on the opposite side of D.C. for a relaxed dinner at the Morgans’ after a thorough raid of all the neighborhood porches. However, Derek had called just as they were getting in the car to inform them that Hank got unexpectedly sick and forty-five minutes later All Hallows’ Eve enthusiast Reid (dressed up as Edgar Allan Poe) plus a very concerned Penelope had showed up at your apartment, making you wonder why on earth wasn’t she already busy baking since she kept repeating chickenpox called for the best pumpkin pie ever.

“Well, there goes our plan to keep a low profile,” you groaned as you closed the door behind her, and Spencer’s eyes widened in surprise.

“How…?! Is this what they call ‘female intuition’?”

“Call it whatever you want but I’m glad she’s not mad we didn’t tell her right away,” you replied, proceeding to wrap your arms around his shoulders, “and I can think of another person who’s probably very happy for you, now.”

Spencer got rid of the fake mustache with a pensive stare. When it finally dawned on him that Garcia’s phone buzzing during your impromptu horror-themed movie night had in fact started out as live updates on their godson’s health and most likely turned into a gossip session about you two as a couple he squinted.

“I almost bailed on going trick-or-treating with them. I didn’t because I wouldn’t have missed it for the world, but I also wanted to see you. It’s our first Halloween.”

You nodded. “Maybe we can still get tickets for Nosferatu. You’re a terrible liar, so I’m sure there really is a midnight screening at the Silver Theatre.”

Spencer stared at you, entranced, then pulled you closer and in a heartbeat your lips met his - a sweet caress, tender and soft, your breaths entwined and your noses rubbing against each other in delicate strokes. You gave him a gentle push and he plopped down on the couch as you placed one knee on either side of his legs to straddle him; one of his hands sneaked behind you, exploring you as if he was trying to blindly map your whole back.

You felt his other hand on your waist, hesitant.

Three months had passed since the day you both came to the conclusion you were not “just friends” - three months made of late night phone calls from six different States, of handwritten silly notes you hid in his leather bag each time you drove him to the airport to catch a flight for Houston, three months of you hoping things would eventually move past the PG rated phase.

Three months of your self-consciousness sowing the seed of doubt in your heart, encouraged by the notion of whom he got to share his workspace with: you were no Emily or JJ and even if Spencer wasn’t the type to pay attention to details he frequently referred to as ‘trivial’ you were growing less and less confident.

“It’s fine, you can touch me,” you whispered, guiding his palm to cup your breast. They were pretty difficult to ignore, nevertheless he always seemed to steer away from them as much as he could.

You ran your fingers through his hair until you grabbed a small chunk of his curls; Spencer gasped for air and you brushed your tongue over his lower lip, letting out a muffled moan when the heat between your legs became almost unbearable. You started grinding on his lap to adjust tightly against his body.

“Wait…” he whined, squirming under you.

A second moan escaped from your throat while the pressure of his stiff cock hit your thigh but he shoved you away to free himself and spring to his feet, shaking heavily as if he was experiencing a full blown anxiety attack.

His cheeks were flustered and his hair stuck to his dampened forehead so that he couldn’t even look at you straight - which gave him the perfect excuse to avoid doing it altogether. “I– I’m sorry…”

“No, no, I am…” you muttered, because the guilt building up in your chest felt so heavy you find it difficult to breathe.

Spencer was standing there, fumbling nervously with the cravat around his neck; his body language was screaming discomfort and he was clearly thinking of an excuse to remove himself from the situation. It was then that the hidden and irrational side of you, the one that desperately feared he would have disappeared forever if you’d let him go, kicked in and a rush of adrenaline came running down your spine.

“Please…” you continued, placing a hand over his, “it’s okay, really… there’s no way to control it, you should know better than anyone—”

“Why? Because I’m a man and men are supposed to have zero impulse regulation?!”

The embarrassment and shame in his voice broke you: you had sworn a thousand times in your mind to do your best to be his solace, yet now it seemed you were hurting him like no-one had ever done before.

“No,” you replied, “because you’re the genius, here, and you should know it’s a perfectly healthy and natural reaction.”

He huffed, visibly irritated at what he must have perceived as a patronizing tone. A different sort of emotion crawled under your skin, sparked by the amount of tension stagnating in the air.

You offered him a cushion and glanced at him with your usual no-nonsense attitude. “Sit down, so we can have a proper conversation? You know, like… functioning adults.”

Spencer pouted for a second, evaluating numbers and statistics about two years and a half’s worth of interactions. The truth was, intellectual affinity was such a familiar concept for the two of you that talking your way through an issue was indeed a synonym for a positive outcome.

He grabbed the cushion and held it onto his stomach to shield himself from your gaze, though it was purposely focused on his face; you thought it was best to put some distance between your bodies when he sat on the couch again so you folded your legs underneath you, shivering like a cold draft had found its way inside the room.

“Listen, we can both agree this is not your regular, everyday casual topic of conversation… which is why we’ve never discussed premarital sex—”

“I’m not against it,” Spencer rushed to declare, “I’ve assumed it was the same for—”

“Sure, no! Ditto,” you confirmed.

His furrowed brows relaxed while his mouth curved in a timid smile. “Did you know that every person’s intimate relationships follow a script that has been written according to their own individual attitude towards all –uhm, sexual experiences?”

“I did not,” you admitted, and Spencer’s hands started dancing to the sound of his own words.

“There are sets of guidelines for appropriate behavior, each partner in consensual encounters acts as if they are an actor following a script rather than acting on impulse alone. Researches indicate that women are more likely to initiate contact in well established relationships, negotiating sexual activity in developing relationships can be difficult 'cause both parts have multiple goals to deal with, such as providing relational definitions or following specific standards or morals.”

“Yeah, speaking about relationships… I think we’ve been in one since Christmas, we were just too dumb to say it out loud. And to each other,” you explained. “Sounds like a well-established to me but what’s your take on us?”

He curled into himself. “Every time we’re together I know there’s no other place I’d rather be. I’ve never even imagined it could be possible, I want to feel you even closer… and I’m so afraid I’m forcing this on you—”

“You’re not, I want it too,” you reassured him, “but to be honest I was starting to worry you were not into… me.”

Spencer’s beautiful eyes roamed over you and what you could see was all but repulsion. “Actually it’s the complete opposite.”

“So, what if my script says I’m ready to take things further?” you inquired, inching towards him to tug at the cravat of his costume.

Spencer cupped your face and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “Mine is on the same page,” he whispered.

Your fingers immediately went to the vest he was wearing and trailed the line of buttons in a slow movement; you undid them one by one, the hems eventually coming apart to reveal the white shirt underneath.

“Tell me if anything doesn’t feel good,” you purred while you loosened the cravat to uncover his Adam’s apple. The way his muscles tensed as it bobbed up and down drove you crazy, so you teased him with the tip of your tongue - your lips grazing over the short stubble.

Damn him and his impeccable bone structure: the scruffy look suited him so well it always sparked in you the urge to pin him to a wall and sink your teeth into his tender flesh. You loved how he could sport a smooth, professional style when the situation required it still wasn’t concerned with shaving each morning, almost as if it was an impractical activity which took energy away from whatever he considered to be a priority at that moment.

You heard something flop on the floor and stopped your ministrations: the cushion he’d been holding over his stomach wasn’t there anymore, meaning you got to notice his trousers were becoming increasingly tight.

You squeezed his knee to make sure he was prepared for a more intimate contact then you slid it even further on his leg, giving him a couple of minutes to adjust to your gentle strokes before you felt confident enough to move the action to his inner thigh.

Spencer gasped, surprised rather than shocked or disturbed by how close you were now to where he was aching, and he leaned back to ease the pressure of the fabric but kept his eyes on you.

He gave a silent nod in response to your interrogative stare, so you finally traced the outline of his hard cock between your thumb and index.

He jolted this time and muttered under his breath, a deep rasp in his voice you didn’t expect: you were unprepared to hear your name spoken as it was the quintessence of pure desire and you quivered, the throbbing in your ears rolling to your core.

You kissed his temple as you pointed at the waistband of his trousers. “Can I…?”

“Y– yes…” he muttered.

His clothes didn’t have any space left to accommodate his bulge. You palmed over it and felt an impatient twitch, which nearly had Spencer cursing; it was becoming torture for him so you reached for the zipper.

For a split second the historical inaccuracy of a Victorian era costume featuring a device first introduced years after Edgar Allan Poe’s death hit you - a remark Reid himself would have been very appreciative of, which showed how much you could relate to the way his brain worked. Then you shook out of it and peeled his slacks open.

You crumpled the shirt over his stomach and marveled at the sight of his soft belly, the flawless navel, the dark fuzz pointing directly to his raging erection. With a cautious approach you freed it from any restraint, chewing on your lower lip as you often did when you were entirely focused on a challenging task.

You couldn’t exactly say you had many options in your mind to compare him to but you had done a lot of fantasizing: now that he was in front of you, undressed and defenseless, you were downright mesmerized by—

“What’s wrong?!” Spencer screeched, interrupting your train of thought. “Is it odd? Does it look odd?!”

You shook your head, taken aback. “... odd?! No, why?!” you asked. “It’s just…” you petted the roundness to demonstrate, “I like your tummy so much.”

The way it pressed against his belt whenever he sat next to you on your couch or his was overly inviting and in the past weeks you had to fight the temptation to sneak a hand inside his shirt to squish it, because you didn’t know how he would’ve reacted.

“Really?!” he marveled, confirming he wasn’t even aware you had a thing for soft tummies. His soft tummy, to be specific.

You smiled and leaned forward to rest your forehead against his. “Are you okay with me doing this?”

Spencer nodded, his eyelids half-closed, so you let your fingertips follow the trail of hair below his belly button; his hardness twitched again when you got near, then you wrapped your hand around it.

You both moaned in unison, a harmony of pleasure that filled the silence of your living room. You moved along his entire length, feeling the satiny skin sliding over the shaft, and he threw his hair back in a movement that left his jugular exposed: his neck was too inviting and you sucked on it, the groans vibrating in his throat reverberating on your lips.

You gripped tighter when he got used to your caresses. As soon as his muffled whimpers seemed to increase in frequency you circled your thumb over the tip, spreading his leaking precum over the sensitive head. Spencer was at loss for words, a good indication that he was definitely enjoying the moment.

You were enjoying it too; you started to rub your legs together, your imagination running wild and picturing all sorts of scenarios. The mere thought of having him inside of you made you want to touch yourself but you resisted: Spencer was undoubtedly new to this and deserved someone in his life to love him and shower him with attention, so you decided to put his release before your own.

When you twisted your hand at the base of his cock he jumped, missing the bridge of your nose by a few inches.

“Too much?!” you cooed, and he seemed to come out of a sort of drunken stupor.

“No, no… it’s good, I like it…”

You sighed. “Spence, you have to tell me if—”

“It’s really good,” he replied, the urgency sensible in his tone. “Don’t stop,” he pleaded, low-key ashamed of how needy he’d sounded.

You pecked him on the nose as a reassurance you accepted and cherished this version of him: he wasn’t the kind of man to be interested in the crude physical aspect of sex, he’d made it clear. He wasn’t desperate for just anyone to satisfy him - he trusted you to do it, because he knew you were safe in each other’s arms.

You shifted to adjust at his side and returned to your previous occupation; you let your other hand wander over his thigh as a forewarning, then you sheepishly cupped his balls so you could provide additional stimulation and send him over the edge.

He bucked his hips, a loud “Oh, God!!!” escaping from his mouth before he grasped a fistful of your hair. He was hungry for you, his tongue sliding lustfully against yours and his breathing so ragged you were sure he was getting close.

Kissing him was your drug of choice but you also wanted to watch him come undone, thanks to you, so you turned your head while he tensed: he arched his back and bucked his hips once more, nipping at your earlobe. He became harder as he spilled himself over your fingers, wrist and his own stomach with a feral growl.

You didn’t let go of him, not even when his whole body finally slumped down.

The well-defined jaw and unruly curls falling on his face, now so serene, made him appear like a Botticellian masterpiece. Botticelli would have never painted one of his subjects in such a disheveled state, for sure, but the contrast between his angelic aura and the fact he was sprawled on the couch with his trousers unzipped and his softening cock still in your hand was a vision to behold.

“Hey,” you hummed as he re-opened his eyes and found you looking at him, “you’re too cute to be real, you know that?!”

Embarrassed - yet adorably proud - Spencer lowered his gaze, only to grimace at the stickiness on his belly. And on you. “I made a mess, I’m s—”

“We made a mess. Besides, it’s nothing a towel can’t fix, don’t be sorry,” you said, patting his tummy.

You were almost tempted to ask him how long he’d been saving it for, in a clumsy attempt to remind him you’d fallen so head over heels for him you were not at all grossed out; at the last moment you ruled the joke out, though, stretching your legs to get up instead. “Give me a couple of minutes.”

He flashed you the most awkward smile and you forced your feet to move towards the bathroom.

You washed your hands under the hot running water and silently watched a part of Spencer swirling down the drain; the floral scent of the soap was now in the air but you could still feel his - coffee and cologne, accentuated by the faint traces of sweat on his skin.

You had just discovered something new: Spencer was often oblivious of how good he looked (despite the dark circles under his eyes) and that was no mystery, but the idea he might have been insecure about different parts of his body was something you’d never taken into account. If being a couple was the natural consequence of the emotional bond between you - rather than a result of some physical infatuation alone - why was he so preoccupied with your reaction to his half-naked self?

Your brain was going in severe overdrive.

You inhaled and exhaled a couple of times, your fingers gripping on the honed marble of the countertop, then you dried your hands with a towel, grabbed a fresh one and returned to the living room; the instant you approached your couch you realized Spencer had been doing a lot of thinking of his own, and your heart sank into your stomach.

“Wunderkind, are you alright?” you questioned as you offered him the towel so that he could clean himself up. “What’s going on in here?” you added, tapping lightly on his temple.

He shrugged and proceeded to meticulously remove any trace of his seed from his belly and clothes before tucking the shirt into the waistband of his trousers. “Nothing special.”

His left eyebrow raised, due to an involuntary movement of his facial muscles: it was a flash, a glimpse, the undeniable proof he was hiding something. The sound of your intrusive thoughts and fears got so loud you wanted to scream to cover their noise.

“Your microexpressions say otherwise,” you retorted.

Spencer lifted his head to meet your eyes, mouth agape, and you couldn’t decipher the meaning of such a bewildered reaction. You had always been able to recognize his lying frown, his anxious smile, the suspicious squint and a hundred more variations: you were not a member of the BAU but you were an expert on detecting and classifying his emotions, yet you’d never seen that one before.

“It’s… uhm, I’m wondering if it was good for you.”

Your heart leaped and bounced back where it belonged. His job required him to be the one calling people out on their behavior, not the other way round; your presence in his life forced him to face a situation in which his skills as a profiler couldn’t shield him from his own vulnerability, so he was in serious need of some consolation.

You bent over to whisper in his ear. “It was.”

“But you didn’t...” he nervously licked his lips, “and I want you to. Just tell me how.”

In the back of your mind you were 100% sure it would have been the right moment to confess you’d been harboring a few insecurities of your own but your fight-flight-freeze response was already answering on your behalf, making you freeze on the spot.

“Spencer…”

“You don’t think I can?!” he inquired, still convinced his lack of experience was the motivation behind any episode of miscommunication.

“NO! It’s not about you,” you responded in a hurry, hugging him as he was still seated on the couch. “Or maybe it is… ” you gestured to your whole figure, “I guess I’m a bit worried this isn’t what—”

Spencer wrapped you in an equally sweet hug, his chin dimple pressed on your abdomen. “This is soft,” his hands ran to the back of your knees, trailing up, “it’s so soft I’ve got only one thing in mind every time you hug me and I have to stop myself…”

He stopped talking mid-sentence when you guided his palms over your chest and he finally laughed, fascinated by the feeling of your breasts through the shirt.

If he was so happy at the idea you were starving for his touch and was clearly eager to reciprocate it was time to consider the strong possibility he wasn’t just settling for less. “Do you really—”

“Yes!” he replied, enthusiastically. “But I could use a few hints, you know.”

You knew. “May I sit on your lap, kind sir?”

The ‘are you even serious?’ pout on his face deserved an award; now you were both allowed to act silly without the slightest concern one of you was making fun of the other, high on the intoxicating concept of true intimacy.

You positioned yourself so that you were seated on his groin, your back flat on his chest and your head nestled in the crook of his neck, thanking Mother Nature for the existence of refractory periods. Not that it was necessary, but Spencer hooked his left forearm around your waist to secure you as his tongue glided over the soft skin behind your ear. “How do I start?”

“Step one: make some space,” you tipped him.

He gulped loudly and began to caress your knee, ghosting his fingers along the thigh-bone. You shivered in anticipation and when he tried to reach for your inner thigh you spread your legs apart; he flattened his palm, gripping on your muscles and rubbing back and forth - still keeping some distance from your most delicate spots.

You turned to offer him your lips. “Tease me… up and down, light touches.”

He did as he was told. When he ran the back of his hand over your mound you whimpered, the oversensitivity being too much to bear combined with the mind-blowing taste of his mouth over yours.

“Isn’t it frustrating for you?” he managed to articulate in between kisses and you rocked your hips against him.

You could already feel the familiar and insistent throbbing, accentuated by the fact that delayed gratification was a real pain; you were dying for him to placate the fire his hard cock had sparked in you, so you grabbed his wrist and guided it over your stomach, down the front of your panties.

He gasped at the feeling of your tender flesh, the curly hair, the dampness - too many sensory inputs to process all at once. “You’re so… warm?”

“Core body temperature is higher than the temperature of the skin,” you reminded him.

“So warm,” he kept repeating, basic biology facts lost on him because his brain seemed to have switched off.

His palm grazed over your folds and your legs fell further open to give him better access; you stroked his left forearm and tilted your head back. “Only two fingers now, Spence… up and down. But don’t go straight for—”

You tensed when his fingertips danced on your clit and he gripped you even tighter. “Sorry,” he mumbled, but the sensation was so good you could only smile.

“If you plan to go there it’s left and right. And draw a few circles around, big and small...” you explained before words turned into muffled moans as he put your suggestions into actions.

You were still grinding on his lap, your back glued to his chest, and he took advantage of the proximity to trap your earlobe between his teeth, sucking lightly at each change of the pattern he was tracing.

You squeezed his wrist when the flame inside of you grew fiercer. “You can slip your finger in if you want.”

Spencer let go of your earlobe and paused. “Are you sure?”

“I’ve been thinking about it for weeks,” you admitted, the weight of your secret vanishing in the air like a puff of smoke.

He sighed and shifted underneath you; just as you were ready to tell him he didn’t have to if he wasn’t comfortable with the idea he slid his middle finger past your entrance and you shuddered in his embrace. His hands were elegant, veiny, and his slender digits made for playing piano or reaching your hidden crevices - you had no doubts about it, but judging by how he was sitting still he had more than one question regarding what to do with them.

“How do I feel? Spence...?”

Even if you couldn’t really see his face, you knew he had a confused-slash-excited look on. “Hot… and wet, I never thought—”

“You like it?”

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?!” he asked in the cutest high-pitched tone and you laughed, making you both wince at the sudden movement.

All the words in any existent language put together couldn’t describe the amount of affection you had for him. “I like it, Spence,” you hummed, “and it would be even better if you tried curling your fin— FUCK!”

Spencer wasn’t one to waste time once he was given a specific instruction.

He pushed his finger forward and curled it as you said, gliding in and out to slowly familiarize himself with the different textures of your inner walls. He adopted a very empirical approach, experimenting several techniques based on what he’d learned not so long before, while you whimpered and moaned his name; he was moaning, too, and so prettily you couldn’t control yourself.

“Spence, I need more…”

He nipped at your jaw, his long hair tickling your cheek. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t, I promise”, you panted, almost out of breath.

When he slipped a second finger in you realized that his arm wrapped around your waist was the only thing still keeping you in place: your legs were giving up on you, your hips swayed to let Spencer’s fingers plunge deeper as your back arched and your fists closed around his clothes. He was pumping relentlessly, overwhelmed by your wetness and the way you were taking him inside like he was a missing part of your own body; he tried to reach for your mouth and you turned to grasp the nape of his neck.

“Your hands are perfect,” you whined, “you are perfect…”

He huffed, his heart pounding fast. “Are you…?”

“Please... make me come, Spence,” you begged him in a whisper.

He pressed his thumb on your clit and started alternating between rough circling motions and the upward movement of his fingers, as you bucked your hips at a frantic pace; your thighs muscles contracted, you clenched around him and you ears plugged as you climaxed - something that had never happened to you before.

You tugged at his hair and screamed his name, before settling against his body once the tension faded.

He kept his fingers inside and he cuddled you throughout the aftermath of your orgasm, planting butterfly kisses wherever his mouth could reach and cradling you like his only mission in life was making you feel safe and protected.

Your self-consciousness awoke first, despite the rush of feel-good hormones flowing in your bloodstream.

“Am I crushing you…?” you mumbled, and he grunted as you wriggled free to lean forward and pick up the towel from the floor.

He stared at his wet fingers with a pensive frown, then he wiped them clean and turned to face you - now seated on the couch with your legs across his and your forearm rested on his shoulder, so that you could play with his curls.

“Doctor, you deserve a gold star for your performance.”

He smiled and lowered his gaze for a second. “I’m very good at following instructions.”

“You’re not bad at improvising, either,” you pointed out, “the thing you did with your thumb…?”

“I figured it was only a matter of combining the exact pressure and the right angle. Technically speaking—”

“Spencer?!” you cut him off, before he could lose himself in his own rambling. “Thank you,” you added, kissing him lightly on his lips before you stood up to fix your panties and trousers. “You can tell me all about the mechanics behind one of the best orgasms of my life on our way.”

“Nosferatu. First Halloween together…?” you elaborated when he looked at you in total confusion. “You’ve changed your mind.”

He shifted on the couch, his hazel eyes fixed on you. “Is that okay?”

This time you looked at him with your best ‘is ice cream cold?’ frown: you wanted to spend eternity with him, not just an hour or two more. You climbed into his lap and tangled your fingers in his hair while he cupped your breasts.

“What if I get…? I mean... again?!”

“Well, it’s not going to happen right now, Professor!!" you snorted, and his giggle sounded like celestial music. "But don’t worry, we’ve got the whole night."

NB: I'm not using my regular taglist for Spencer Reid smut fics but I'm obviously tagging only the users who sent a request. If you wish to be added you can send me an ask or leave a comment below with the request to be added.

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iamnotoriginalphil · 5 months

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Happy New Year (Alex Blake x f!Reader)

Synopsis: It's new years. Who will you kiss at midnight?

Words: 1k

Warnings: none

Garcia’s apartment was packed with bodies. You hadn’t been expecting it, assuming it was going to be a get together for the team. Instead, there were people you’d never seen before milling about, asking you what you did and if you were there with anyone. You clutched your glass of punch as if it was your lifeline.

“Yeah, uh, it’s great,” you said to the man who had come up to talk to you.

“So are you good at like martial arts stuff?” he asked, eyes sweeping down your body, “could you put me in a headlock?”

“I could. I don’t know why I would though,” you replied before downing your cup of punch, “I have to go get a refill.”

“Let me,” he said, taking the cup from your hands.

You gave him a forced smile before disappearing back into the crowd the moment his back was turned. Ducking between a small gap your shoulder bashed into someone’s spine. They stumbled forward. You caught them around the elbow, keeping them from falling.

“Oh, hi Alex,” you said.

She smiled at you as you took your hand back from her arm, turning to look at you properly. Your mouth became dry at her smile, the way it always did but you didn’t want her to ever stop. You could hear your heart thumping in your ear, very out of time with the music Penelope had playing.

“I didn’t realise you were here already or I would have come found you,” she said.

“I saw Morgan earlier but uh… I think he’s preoccupied,” you said, seeing him wrapped in the arms of a beautiful woman, “I didn’t see you though.”

“Did you know Garcia knew this many people?” she asked, taking a half step towards you, blocking out the rest of the party.

“I’m not surprised,” you replied, “she talks to everyone. Even that guy who sells the coffee on the third floor that always burns the milk.”

“I wonder if she thinks they’re nice,” she mused.

“You’re never letting that go, are you?”

“Nope.” She grinned at you.

You laughed, her chuckle joining in. You felt your cheeks heat as her hand landed on your arm. Someone shoved into your back, sending you stumbling forward this time. She caught you, arms landing around your waist. You looked up, finding her face very close to yours, close enough that if you lent forward just a little you’d be kissing. Her smile softened as she looked down at you.

“Careful or I’ll think you’re falling for me,” she said, that familiar teasing note in her voice coming through too strong.

Your laughter was too high pitched, you knew, but you couldn’t stop it as you disentangled yourself from her grip. Looking away you caught sight of the tv screen, the crowds in Times Square cheering.

“You know, I’ve never kissed anyone at midnight on New Years,” you said, staring at the tv and the people waiting for the ball drop. Then your brain caught up with what your mouth had been saying and your cheeks heated up again.

“Never?” she asked, eyebrows raising.

“Oh god you think I’m really uncool now, don’t you?” You pressed a hand to your eyes.

“Hey, no,” she said, pulling your hand away, threading your fingers through hers, “I already thought you were really uncool.”

“Shut up.” You shoved at her shoulder.

She tugged on your joined hands, pulling you closer to her. Your breath caught, finding her so close you could feel her breath ghosting over your cheek. She was doing it on purpose, messing with your head. She had to be.

“I’m not sure I believe you’ve never had a New Years kiss,” she said, voice lowering.

“Are you calling me a liar?” you asked.

“I just don’t know if I can believe someone as beautiful as you doesn’t have people tripping over themselves to kiss you.”

The way she was smouldering at you ruined any chance of you thinking a single thought beyond how desperate you were for her. She tilted your chin up with her forefinger, eyes sweeping down your body then back up. You gave a weak laugh that cut off when her eyes darkened.

“How about I kiss you if you can’t find anyone better,” she suggested.

“I’m not going to find anyone better,” you murmured.

“You don’t know that.” Her lips were curling up into that smile you’d grown to love.

“I do,” you insisted.

“How can you possibly know that?” she asked.

“Because there’s no one better than you,” you breathed out.

She paused a moment, looking down at you before her smile settled more firmly in place. Her eyes zeroed in on your lips. You shivered, no innocent thoughts in sight.

“Oh baby girl,” she murmured, drawing impossibly closer, “you’re coming home with me.”

You felt breathless, the implication turning your knees to jelly. Her thumb ran along your lower lip, gently tugging on it until your teeth released it.

“10!”

You jumped, having forgotten anyone else was in the room with the two of you. You looked around, the countdown continuing. A warm hand cupped your cheek, turning you back towards her.

“So what’s it going to be, baby girl?” she asked.

You surged forward as the cheering began, pressing your lips to hers. Her hand slid into the hair at the nape of your neck, tangling in it until you felt it pull. Her tongue ran along your lower lip, begging for entrance. You sighed into her mouth as you opened up to her, melting against her. Her arm curled around your waist, pulling you against her body. Every sinful curve pressed against yours.

You whimpered as she began to draw back only to feel her press a kiss to the corner of your lips. She pressed another kiss to your lips, lingering for a moment, giving you hope she’d continue making you breathless.

“How about we go celebrate the new year somewhere more private?” she murmured against your lips.

“God, yes, please,” you moaned.

She tangled her fingers with yours again, pulling you out of Garcia’s apartment. She shot a heated look at you over her shoulder, full of promises you were going to make sure she kept.

#alex blake x reader #alex blake imagine #criminal minds imagine

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reidrum · 9 days

Text

carry the weight of you | s.r

A/N: i had this posted on an old blog but here's this, idk if i like it but it's also one of my first fics so if lemme know if you have thoughts <3

cw: fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, reader is sad, depression ?, spencer is a cutie who just wants to love, can be read as gn!reader

wc: 1.8k

_______________________________________________

it was supposed to be a routine case. well, not a routine case. those don’t really exist in the bau, but one that had a clear MO and decent enough leads that garcia could easily use to find the unsub. it wasn’t even a case that was especially creepy in nature, lord knows those give the whole bureau nightmares for days.

so why did you feel this way?

you were relatively new to the team—having one year under your belt to your near decades experienced colleagues. but you had rightfully earned your spot in the bau, and you deserved to be there.

but right now you had no energy to believe that. the ache in your chest was ever present from your younger days, courtesy of the circumstances from your upbringing, and you should’ve expected that joining the fbi would’ve only made it heavier. you bared it nonetheless because that’s what you were taught to do. you felt beaten down by the last few days, and just couldn’t wait to get back home and crawl into your bed.

the team had wrapped up the case, and you all were on the jet flying back home to the district. sat next to the ever observant dr. reid, he noticed your glazed eyes and distant aura exuding from you.

“you okay?” he bumps your shoulder bringing you out of your trance.

“i’m fine, don’t worry about me.” you replied curtly and tried to fold into the crevice between the seat and the walls of the plane.

“bold of you to lie to a profiler while on a plane full of profiles,” he chuckled lightly, “seriously, you look troubled. are you sure you don’t wanna play honesty hour right now?”

“spence, i’m okay, I promise.” you tried your best at a genuine smile that was as see through as a windexed window. he returned it with his own thin lipped smile and left you be.

were you okay? you don’t even know how long you’ve felt like this. small, insignificant, nothing. you do great work at your job, tarnishing evil and saving lives. but you can’t help but find it ironic that it’s your own mind working against you that seems to be your demise.

the jet landed around midnight and the team shuffled through the bullpen to gather their belongings before going home. everyone offered their goodbyes and goodnights and spencer was waiting for you by the door. you both lived in the same apartment building, only because when you first moved to quantico you had no one and knew no one. spencer took it upon himself to help you out, being the newest young rookie on the team, a position he was all too familiar with. his next door neighbor had moved out for an immediate job offer and was looking for a subletter and lo and behold, spencer had become your best friend.

in the few months that you were getting accustomed to the area spencer invited you over for nightly chess games and doctor who marathons. morgan always teased the two of you saying you should be going out on the town having fun only young people can have, and spencer would blush and stammer something out but you would have the brightest smile and look at him saying they were the most fun you’ve had.

so he was surprised to say the least when those nights started to become far and few. you would politely decline and spencer would assume you’d finally listened to morgan and got better plans. but he could hear the patter of your footsteps and the occasional expletive from when you’d hit a table corner and wondered what he did to make you recluse yourself again.

spencer was a profiler after all, mix that with being your closest friend and he could pinpoint the moments you started to change. you’d started making less jokes, even during moments where the team would pause and wait for a little quip from you but hear nothing. you were harder to gain attention from, usually needing three or four calls to get you to even look up. and he just saw you distancing yourself, almost like you didn’t want anyone to perceive you.

spencer loved you. he wouldn’t say it out loud or admit to anyone but point blank he loved you. he felt understood in a way that no one else made him feel. you were kind, smart, funny, and the empathy you held for others was enough to make him tear up. you were there for him when maeve died, letting him cry on your shoulder, and as fucked up as it sounds he realized he loved you in those moments leaking tears onto the stomach of your sweater.

so here stood spencer in front of your desk, “you heading home?” you nodded, “mind if i ride with you? i don’t feel like taking the metro this late.”

“okay, let’s go.”

the walk to your car was silent, and somehow the ride back to your apartment complex was even more silent. walking up the stairs to your apartment doors, you turn the key and step in when spencer goes, “hey actually i think i left my book at your place do you mind if i just look for it really quick?”

you stared at him blankly. you just wanted to be alone and he wants to get his book now? unbeknownst to you spencer was desperate to get to the bottom of your melancholia, and needed any in he could find right now to get there.

nonetheless you nodded your head and left the door open behind you so he could walk in. you dropped your bags and shoes at the front door and trudged through your apartment to your kitchen to put tea on the kettle. you softly called out to him, “do you want a cup of tea?”

“i’d love a cup.” he says sitting on your couch.

you’re fussing around the kitchen getting two mugs out— one doctor who and one snoopy mug. you fill the doctor who one up and add a lemon slice and turn around grabbing your snoopy mug. when you turn back towards the kettle you hit the corner of the island table and watch as your favorite mug drops and shatters into millions of pieces.

when they say a straw is what breaks the camel’s back you fully understand what they mean now because how are you about to lose all your shit over a snoopy mug. you don’t even make an effort to move, just staring at the broken pieces on the floor, trying to make sense of them like a kid pointing out cloud shapes. it’s like you can see the pieces molding into the demons that keep you up at night, the thoughts of uselessness and lethargy personifying in front of you.

spencer has to call your name three times before you finally move your eyes to meet his. you can see his lips moving but you can’t hear him, his hands are out as if he’s telling you to stay put oh wait he is. you wait as he finds your dustpan and broom and brushes up the remains into the trashcan. he slowly approaches you and maneuvers you towards the living room where you sit still glossy eyed and trembling.

he sits down next to you and places a hand on your bouncing knee to soothe it, “why won’t you talk to me?”

you shake your head, “it’s nothing spence, it’s not a big deal i can buy a new mug.” push it down.

“not that, something’s not right. and i want to help. will you let me help you?”

you feel the tears making their way up your face to make their grand exit, and you hold on to last bit of resolve you can as you shakily breathe, “i-, i can’t, it’s stupid and we see so much worse stuff so i have to keep it together and i am but today was just-“ you abruptly got up to get water from the kitchen before finishing your sentence. grabbing a glass from the cupboard, filling it up at the sink, and gulping it down with shaky hands. you set the glass down and placed your hands on the cool counter in an attempt to tether yourself to some string of reality that was left. you couldn’t burden him. you wouldn’t.

spencer gives you a minute alone before rising from the couch and walking into the kitchen. he approaches you slowly from behind, mirroring his hands on top of yours, entrapping you in his warm embrace. “i think you’re carrying so much,” he whispers gently in your ear, “you don’t have to do it by yourself. it’s okay to not be okay.”

the tears win and start streaming down your face silently. spencer continues, “what we do, it’s hard. we all have ways of not letting it get to us. rossi and his cigars, hotch and jack, garcia and her tchotchkes, i mean even emily with her sin city weekends.” you let out a wet laugh in response.

spencer doubles down and intertwines his fingers with yours, “my point is, you are not alone. i am here. let me carry some of it for you, please.”

letting out a soft sob you twist in his arms and burrow yourself into his sweatered chest. this was a new feeling for you, letting someone in to see the horrors that you worked so hard to suppress. why would anyone want to brave that journey? surely you weren’t worth the effort.

but as spencer tightened his arms around you, rubbing his hands soothingly down your back and placing a kiss at the crown of your head, you felt that even if the walls of your resolve came crumbling down that spencer would be there to catch as much as he could. and that was enough.

“thank you,” you mumbled tearily incoherent.

“i will always be here for you, no need to thank me sweetheart.”

his kindness overwhelmed you. how could someone who sees so much darkness and been through so much still hold the level of kindness he does?

you lifted your head slightly as his hand came up to cradle the back of your head, “so, what do you have?”

he hummed quizzically in response. you continued, “you said everyone has ways of getting through it, what’s yours?”

“it’s you,” spencer softly says with the most tender loving look in his eyes, smoothing your hair back as he looks down at you in his arms, “it’s always been you.”

your eyes welled up even more and squeezed him tighter if it were even possible. spencer had you. and now you had spencer.

the next day you show up to work, a snoopy mug with a gift bow sits on your desk.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x you #spencer reid hurt/comfort #spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x self insert

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multifandommilfs · 6 months

Text

Cat's Outta The Bag

Pairing: Alex Blake x reader

Wc: 2307

Summary: your relationship with Alex is revealed when you're kidnapped

A/n: based on season 8 because dAng that season was interesting

–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

It was all a flummoxing blur. One moment you were on the field, listening to Garcia's research, the next you were straying away from your team to the desecrated bodies of the most recent murder, trying to put two and two together. You couldn't do what you intended with a certain someone's gaze lingering on your frame. So much for being professional during work. Alex could never resist you.

You were whirling, smile by your lips, wanting to catch her in the act.

But there was a snap of black before your eyes, the wind shrieking by your ears.

Your vision was dazed as it warped around uselessly. Pain flicked at the back of your head before it multiplied into violent lobs as your vision cleared, sending honed shrieks into your ears, or was it happening the other way round?

You felt the rumble from your throat as you tilted your head back in exhaustion, the nerves tight in your neck from your bowed position.

A snap of white.

You were recoiling violently. Realising too late that your limbs were locked up with the chair. It slammed backward onto the ground. You were out with the light blaring into your face.

_________

It was a beat late before the Alex realised you were missing. Then everyone was reacting. She could see JJ's panic, could hear Garcia's haste as she clattered away at the keyboard for a CCTV footage.

"Morgan, Rossi, scour the area for any evidence. Reid, Blake, you talk to anyone who's been around the area. Kids, joggers, leave no one out. JJ you're with me, we still have a profile to give." It was Hotch's order, and they all took off right on the spot.

___________

It wasn't until the afternoon heat laid onto Virginia that they all filtered back into Quantico, ready to relay all the information they got.

Which was nothing at all.

"Hardly anyone passed by, and the ones that did, saw nothing at all." Blake said, covering up her frustration.

"Well we were at the crime scene, which already means that this area would be more desolate, the Unsub would feel safer to dump the bodies there." Reid supported.

"Not even a paper trail." David gave, Morgan only looked defeated as he shook his head.

"Seems like this is the only lead we got." JJ placed a ziploc bag contained picture of you onto the table.

The room stiffened, Alex could feel hot tears pressing behind her eyes, but she was composed. She had to be, she needed to be on this case to catch that son of a-

"Blake?" It was Hotchner's voice.

She glanced up and blinked a few times. "Sorry, could you.."

"Based on the quality of this photograph. The Unsub is the same as the Unsub who's stalking us." Hotch gave a summary of the discussion Alex missed out on.

"But this is the first abduction." Reid turned to Hotch. "Your picture was the first to be found, this one," he gathered up the bag, "is the second. The order is wrong."

A tear pushed its way down Alex's cheek. She'd lost her grasp, on composure. She shoved it away within a blink, but JJ saw it, of course she did, they were in a room full of profilers.

__________

The bullpen was practically working even though it was past midnight for more than one insisted to stay back, work on ideas, profiling.

At 4 am, soft snores filled the darkened bullpen, only Alex was awake. Her desk lamp basically a nightlight for the others as she worked through the Unsub's replicated murders over and over again, scanned over witnesses statements. There must be something they missed, something crucial, a hint, a taunt, a misstep. It all revealed something.

At 5 am,

The panic of the previous morning ambushed her, of losing you. The temperature rose, her clothes stuck to her skin from sweat. Her heart rang in her ears, and gripped the edge of her desk to quell their tremble. She had pursed her lips, let a few tears slip, glared at the surface and went back to work. She wouldn't let herself obstruct herself from finding you. There wasn't enough time as it is.

_________

In a state of dwam, the bright light was no worse attacking your vision than last time. Your head throbbed like hell. A sharp metallic scent bludgeoning you in the face and you gagged, it was lingering on your tongue but your throat was sore from the prickling dehydration. You couldn't spit and your spite to do so was self-sabotage. You shoved yourself against the restrains, something jangled. Locks.

You strained your neck and midriff. Wincing at the dried blood at your wounds that tore up and flaked. The moment you saw it the hope of escape, you regretted it. 8 locks hooking all the chains together into one fat rope. Sweat slipped down your neck as you gritted your teeth as you righted yourself back onto the chair. Catching a flicker of blinking red dot in front of you. Videotaping never ended well for the victims. Was it the end of your line.?

You thought of Alex, of the team, of your sister and brother and mother and father. Tears needled your dry eyes as you scoured the room from your limited position. Empty blank walls. Two doors you couldn't get to. You realised this time your chair was tied to a water pipe that perforated the middle of the room.

Then the door rattled and creaked open.

_________

"Garcia, you're up."

"As much as I worked my superpowers.. I'm sorry sir I got nothing. The cameras were cut off the moment she left for the vic."

Hotch clenched his jaw. This was going nowhere.

"Alright so this guy's smart, meticulous, organized." Morgan said. "Couldn't be his first ride."

"Or he's trained to do this." Blake garnered the attention of the rest of the team. The atmosphere ladened with stoic anticipation.

"I believe the Unsub is an inside man." Blake began. It was a heavy accusation, but it was the closest shot.

"That's why he's been able to know when and where we were, infiltrate BAU twice. He's a professional in his field, or multiple fields. Biochemistry, tech, possibly more. So we're talking someone who lives in solitude and lacks the socialising skills." No one interrupted her. So she continued.

"The stalking only began after I joined the team, which means he is connected to me through some kind of betrayal and is seeking some kind of revenge."

She took in a well-needed breath and placed her palms onto the table surface."The only event I could think about it is the Amerithrax case."

"Garcia, pull up everyone involved in the Amerithrax case."

"You got it boss." Garcia quipped before strutting out of the room quickly.

Reid swiveled in his chair thoughtfully, but didn't say anything until everyone left the room. He turned to Alex with a look, some kind of revelation twinkling in his eyes "she wasn't involved in the Amerithrax case, she didn't even join the FBI until years later. So if he wanted to get you back for it, why take her instead of you?"

Alex smiled. "I knew you'd fish me out for that." Reid returned her courtesy before he resumed his profiling.

"You two are involved." And Blake gave him an insouciant shrug that told him everything he wanted to know. He grinned.

_______

An hour later, a yellow letter stamped with blazing bold red letters 'CONFIDENTIAL' was placed congruously on Blake's desk. With Rossi's encounter in mind, they got the specialists to get the file open.

No drugs were found. Only tens of thousands of pictures scattered on the desk. You were bounded, blinded, possibly drugged with lacerations, bruises, blood, dirt, grime. Your hair was a mess, the black and white lighting exaggerated your bone structure. There were close-ups, far shots, angled shots.

Alex was blank terrified.

He was punishing her for something she didn't know and for the first time in a long time, she was utterly terrified. Her heart slamming into her chest, her breath shallow and fast as white spots interfered her vision, she sought support on a pillar that had still a clear shot to whatever was happening inside the office she couldn't bring herself to go in.

None of the pictures seemed to carry any hope until the last one. Your pose was different, head slanted to the right instead of to the left. "This was intentional, look at her neck, it's straining." JJ pointed out, showing a rather tough line going down the length of your neck that wasn't present in the rest of the pictures.

"Dead or alive, we are nailing him into the ground." Morgan shoved a fist into the desk, a few photographs sliding off the desk from the impact.

"Guys I found something." Garcia interrupted, coming out of her liar and immediately caught the way Blake stood a distance too far from the only evidence they harboured. Her curiousity piqued, but the time was off putting.

"Okay so I looked into our security cameras. And for the 10 minutes we were in the meeting room. Guess who gets in? John Curtis." A picture of the Unsub popped up on screen behind her.

"An inside man and was also in the Amerithrax case, just like Blake said. He has certs in so SO many fields but now I couldn't care less. He has an address surrounded with land. Grassy, green, land which I've already sent to your cells."

"Thank you Garcia. Let's go."

________

There was a distant whirring, like blades chopping up the air. You groaned into the gag cloth that soaked up the moisture from your lips and mouth, your eyes wanted to tape itself shut. Your voice not as loud as you wanted it to be as you wheezed. You thrashed your legs and pulled at your arms, chest panting and your throat tore as you lurched over and tried to scream.

You would give it to him. To that sorry fuck that thought of everything. No spouse, no kids, no life. He only had his own vengeance but you knew your team were going to find you. They were going to, it's just a matter of time.

But you felt doozed, you need some rest now, at least that's what your brain told you. So you let your lids fall in exhaustion, your head drooping forwards.

________

It was only for a moment before you thought you heard Alex, her voice ringing like bells. Was it her touch you felt? Her hand at your jaw, pulling your hair out of your face.

You peered, brown hair in your face, her irises always enraptured you. Then your vision narrowed, her gaze turned anxious, your eyes wore out again, encasing you in darkness.

An explosion, you jerked, your yelp tore your dry lips, eyes shooting open instinctively as a wave of warmth rolled over you.

The craggy roll of a shopping cart's wheels was what you felt next, your bones were cushioned, soft sheets rumpled beneath you as a commotion around you settled like white noise. A hand reached yours, a familiar face entered your vision, the colour on her face alternating between hues of red and blue, red and blue, red and blue.

It spilled, your tears cold against the night air as they wheeled you, Alex running alongside the stretcher until they towed you into the back of the ambulance. She combed through your hair, careful not to touch the injuries you sustained, her lips a trembling smile as you gave her one back wearily.

The team stood by as they watched your embrace. A bit spooked at Blake's affection even though word spread quick within the team of your relationship. They watched, soft smiles making way onto their face as Blake held your hand in a vice grip, though her touch was surprisingly tender.

She pressed the back of your hand against her cheek as she let out a choked sob as your nails glided lightly beneath her cheek. For a linguist, she was out of words.

___________

You remembered when you first started out in the industry. Someone had said to you, once an agent, always an agent. You didn't really register those words until you were stuck at home during the recuperation period, antsy to leave the house when it was what got you stuck in the first place.

On the second week, Alex had the honour of telling you that John Curtis died in the explosion, painfully, with his skin ripped off his bones. You hadn't felt lighter since then.

You hit the 3 weeks mark before you returned to Quantico. Riding that elevator, with the weight of your bag slung over your shoulder, your work jacket never felt so unfamiliar.

The elevator glided to a stop, doors opening then a clap!

A flurry of multicoloured ribbons floating down on your head as the team cheered. "Welcome back!"

You blew a ribbon out of your face, lips brimming with smiles at the familiar faces who ambushed you into a hug the second you crossed into the threshold. "I missed you guys."

"We missed you too!" Garcia grinned, voice quivering as she swiped at her eyes. "And also you owe us a kiss for your rendezvous!" She quipped.

"Yeah I thought we were friends." Morgan jested.

"Really?" You laughed, seeing the team's eyes on both you and Blake expectedly, Garcia wiggling her eyebrows as you groaned.

"Come on guys, at least ask how I'm doing."

Alex only shrugged, a fond mirth playing on her lips. "I had no part in this, but the cat's outta the bag and we gotta pay for it."

You had rolled your eyes in defeat and amusement, but indulged them either ways.

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Here's a link to my masterlist! ^^

Comment, reblog, drop an ask! Feedback is greatly adored!

#criminal minds #criminal minds fic #alex blake fluff #alex blake #alex blake x reader #alex blake imagine #alex blake angst #bau x reader

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thatgirlstrawberry · 1 year

Text

be okay. please.

Feb. Request-7

In which Y/N is at base while Spencer is in the field. She loses communication and tension rises.

Warnings: guns, bombs, blood, normal CM stuff, sadness, angst, fluff, kissing, reader being worried and pregnant

Spencer x fem!reader

Y/N clenched her jaw as she sat beside Garcia in the bar cave. Her knee was bouncing up and down rapidly as she rubbed her stomach.

The reason she wasn’t with the rest of the team was because she was pregnant. Too far along to be working a case physically.

“Okay, wonder team.” Garcia sighed. “The bombs location is about two miles from where you are… now.”

“Thanks, baby girl.” Derek said over the phone. “How are you doing, Mrs. Reid?” He asked.

Y/N sighed. “Y’know, i just kinda wish you guys weren’t heading towards an active bomb but other than that… never better.”

Spencer cleared his throat. “Uh, wife can you make sure to keep baby in there until we get back?”

Y/N chuckled. “Yeah, sure. I’ll just hold my legs closed if I feel like Niagara Falls let loose from my vagina.”

“Dude!” Emily snorted.

Spencer chuckled. “The third trimester has made her pretty… graphic.”

Derek laughed. “Yeah, for real. The other night she told me that she wasn’t looking forward to feeling like she was pushing a watermelon out of her ass.”

“Sounds like my wife.” Spencer sighed.

Y/N sighed. “Y’know, getting to the ninth month is super exciting until you realize that the baby doesn’t come in the exact day you hit the ninth month.” She rolled her eyes. “Unless you’re freaking Monica from across the street.” She scowled. “That bitch pushed her devil baby twins out at fuckin’ midnight.”

Everyone laughed as Y/N grumbled.

Garcia shook her head. “I love all the… baby pushing out stuff— but you guys are coming up on the sight. Body cams on, please.”

On a separate screen, six frames showed up with their names in the corner. “All right, everyone’s clear to go. Be safe and kick ass.”

Y/N bit her lip as she saw Spencer’s body cam stop shaking and move from inside the car, out.

“Reid, you’re with me and Rossi, JJ and Emily with Morgan.” Hotch spoke. “Reid, Rossi and I will go try to diffuse the bomb, you guys go take down Mr. Hall.”

The reason the BAU was diffusing the bomb and not the bomb squad was because the unsub had somehow shut off all the power at the bomb station, making that they wouldn’t receive any notice of bomb threats. The doors were also ran by electricity so when the power went out, the doors shut down.

Everyone nodded and moved in different directions. Y/N saw them come to a door that the bomb should have been behind.

Hotch kicked it open and stepped aside for Reid and Rossi to go through first. “I’ve located the explosive.” Reid spoke.

Chills ran down Y/N’s spine as she saw it up close from his body cam.

She looked down at JJ and Emily’s body cam and realized that they went black. She pressed the call button on the computer. “Emily? JJ, can you hear me?” Derek’s looked like it was shaking all around. “Derek, what’s happening?”

His body cam went black.

“Derek?” Garcia called.

Y/N saw Spencer’s hands hesitantly touching the wires and cables attached to the bomb.

“Y/N, García, what are you seeing?” Rossi asked.

Her chest stared to heave. “Their body cams went black. I can’t see or hear them.” She shook her head.

“All of them?” Hotch asked.

“Yes! All of them.” Garcia snapped.

Y/N eyed Spencer’s body cam. There was a minute left on the timer. “No. No, Spencer you guys have to get out of there.” She spoke, desperation in her voice.

“Baby, I can’t talk to you right now. I need to focus, I’m so sorry.”

Y/N heart plummeted when she saw a figure in the background on the screen of Spencer’s cam.

“Spence, I-I think there’s someone in there with you.” She said quietly.

“What?”

Y/N shook, sitting on the edge of her seat. “Spencer, there’s someone in there with you. You need to g-go. You have to go.”

Rossi and Hotch pulled their guns and stalked forward towards the man covered in blood. “Hands up, Hall.”

Y/N grabbed Garcia’s hand as tears stung in her eyes. The clock continued to count down as Spencer moved his hands around. She could hear him whispering, reciting things he had learned earlier in the case.

Two gunshots were heard and Y/N flinched when Hotch and Rossi’s body came went black.

“No… no, no!” She yelled.

Spencer pulled his gun from his holster. “Mr. Hall?” He spoke, walking forward. “My name is Spencer Reid, and I want you to think very carefully about your next actions.” He said,

Y/N bit her lip so hard that she tasted blood.

“I don’t wanna follow your rules.” Hall spoke. He shrugged.

Spencer stepped forward again. “Okay. Okay, I understand. But, you’re the only one that can turn off the bomb?”

He nodded.

“If you help me diffuse it, you can make your own rules.” Spencer spoke. “You don’t have to follow anyone else’s, okay?”

Y/N shook, trying not to scream in Spencer’s ear piece. He only had thirty seconds left. “Okay. I-I can help you.”

“I need you to drop your weapon, though Mr. Hall.” Spencer spoke as he tried to walk forward.

Y/N clenched her jaw. Hurry, Spencer. Hurry.

She watched Mr. Hall drop the gun he was holding and walk forward. Spencer began to lift his gun back into his holster.

And the last thing Y/N saw was the man running at her husband before his body cam went black.

Y/N was silent for a moment. “Sp- Spencer?” She whispered, pressing the call button. “Spencer, are you there?”

She glanced at Penelope who looked lost, shocked, scared all in one. “Penelope, why- his body cam went off. Why did their cams go off?”

She shook her head as tears fell down her cheeks. “I-I…”

Y/N pulled her hand from hers. “Why the fuck did they go off, Garcia!?” She shouted. When the woman just started to weep, Y/N groaned and pulled out her phone, getting out of the chair she was in.

She called Spencer.

Riiing. Riiing. Riiing. Ri- Hi, this is Spencer Reid. I can’t come to the phone right now, leave a— babe, stop! Leave a message!

Y/N pressed her lips in a thin line to stop them from quivering. “No, no, no.” She shook her head. “Be okay. Please.” She whispered, pressing Rossi’s contact.

It rang, he didn’t answer.

“No, you have to be okay.”

She called JJ. No answer.

Morgan. No answer.

She called everyone on the team but no one picked up.

She paced, her breaths becoming short and labored. “No, no.” She shook her head.

“Y/N, sweetie, you need to calm down. Too much stress will put you into labor.” Garcia sniffled from behind her.

The woman either didn’t hear her or didn’t listen because she started hyperventilating. “Spencer and I are supposed to have this baby together— the team is supposed to be here for our kid— I- I- need them to be okay. I need him to be okay.”

García sobbed listening to her. “Y/N—“

“We’re supposed to move out of our apartment and get a big— b-big house so we can have more kids— I can’t do life without him— much less have a baby—“

García got up from her chair and slowly walked towards the panicking woman. “Y/N, i need you to stop or you will have this baby on the floor of my bat cave!” She said, placing her hands on her arms.

Y/N looked up at her with tears running. Garcia tilted her head to the side, pulling her in for a tight hug.

As she was rocking Y/N back and forth, she noticed something on the frames of the body cams.

Offline…

“Y/N/N…” Garcia whispered. “Look.”

The woman pulled away from her and spun around. “What— am I looking at?” She asked, sniffling.

“If the cams are damaged they say ‘error’, those say offline.” She nodded.

Y/N furrowed her brows. “Okay? W-why is that important.”

García bit her lip. “Because that means that they might be okay.” She smiled, wiping a tear off of Y/N’s cheek. She walked towards the computer. “If the bomb ever went off, these would say error. So, the team might have turned they off for some reason. They might be okay.”

Y/N bit her lip. “If they’re okay, then why aren’t they answering my phone calls?” She asked.

“I— i don’t know, Y/N.”

The woman sighed with frustration, walking to the door.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Where the hell are you going, pregnant lady!?” Garcia asked loudly.

Y/N looked back at her. “I’m going to the site to get my husband and the rest of our team.”

García groaned. “Okay, well your husband would kill me if I let you drive so hang on!”

.•.•.•.•.•.••.•.

Y/N had tears in her eyes as García turned on the road and the next thing in sight was a burning building.

“No. No, there’s no way they made it out.” She mumbled.

As soon as the car stopped Y/N got out of the car, running for the line of police cars and fire trucks and ambulances.

“Oh my god.” She shook her head.

“Ma’am? You can’t be here now.” A policeman said, reaching for her arm.

Y/N didn’t glance at him as she pulled her arm from us grasp and showed him her badge. “Fuck off.”

“Y/N! Y/N, wait!” She heard García calling for her.

She didn’t turn back. She needed to know if he was alive or dead.

The sirens hurt her ears as she passed dozens of fire trucks. “Rossi!” She screamed when she saw him covered in ash, coughing. “Oh my God, Rossi!”

“Oh, Y/N. What are you doing here?”

“You’re alive! Who else is alive!?”

“Y/N, Y/N, slow down sweetheart.” Rossi nodded, glancing around. He pulled her into a hug.

“Is he alive?” She whispered, her eyes squeezing shut.

“Sir, slow down! I need to take you to a paramedic!”

Y/N opened her eyes and practically pushed Rossi away from her. “Spencer!?” She screamed, rushing towards him.

His head snapped to her. “Y/N? What— what are you—“ he started to cough. When she got to him, she wrapped her arms around him tightly, tears escaping her eyes.

“I— thought you died!” She cried into his chest. “Why— where the fuck is your phone!?” She pushed off of him.

“Y/N, baby, I’m so sorry! I had to turn off the cams to gain trust. That was the only way he would agree to help diffuse the bomb.” He spoke quickly.

Y/N looked around. “Yeah, well it didn’t fucking work, now did it?!” The entire place was on fire.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered.

She reached up and wiped the blood from his forehead.

.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.

Spencer looked down at his wife worriedly. She hadn’t said anything since they’d been home. They laid in bed, him rubbing her belly softly as she laid her head on his chest.

Suddenly, he heard sniffles coming from her. He tilted his head as he looked at her. “Y/N? Baby, what’s wrong?”

He moved so she could sit up. She criss crossed her legs and looked at her belly. “You are not allowed to die.” She told him.

He would almost think that was a joke if he hadn’t heard the shake in her voice. If he hadn’t seen the sad look on her face.

“I need you here.” She nodded, tears falling from her eyes and landing on her hands that laid on her stomach. “For me. I-I can’t do this without you.”

“You won’t have our child alone, baby—“

“I can’t do living without you, Spencer.” She looked up at him. “Baby or not, if you didn’t come home to me today, I—“ She paused. “I need you and our child needs you.” She told him, letting his thumbs wipe away her tears. “And we’re gonna have more kids. They need you. Our kid’s kids, they need you.”

Spencer leaned forward. “They will have me.” He nodded. He pulled her into his chest. “I will be here for you…” He rocked her back and forth. “For our kids… for our kid’s kids, love, I will always be here.”

Y/N nodded into his chest before she pulled away. She pushed his body back so he was laying down.

“What are you doing?” He asked with furrowed eyebrows.

She laid her hand on his chest before replacing it with her ear. “I just need to hear your heart for a while.”

“I need to know you’re okay.”

————————

THIS ONE IS SO SWEET AND SAD AND ALL THAT OMG

I love this one (requester chose not to be tagged) feel free to request more fics!!!

#spencer reid #spencer fluff #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid smut #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x original female character #criminal minds #spencer x oc #spencer x reader #crimimal minds #spencer x you

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ssa-atlas-alvez · 1 year

Note

can I get cowboy!reader with the flu, all feverish and sick and disoriented and maybe the team takes shifts going to watch him/give him some company because he lives all alone and they know he won’t take care of himself like he would for others.

Whether this is an opportunity for more romance to bloom or for him to just be seen as a bit vulnerable and human to the other members of the team, up to you. I think all his usual inhibitions would be lowered juuust enough to give the team a laugh. (bc in my mind he’s not a drinker, he doesn’t like the effect it has on people- making them violent etc)

- 🦕

Description: cowboy reader gets sick and makes some confessions. And it's what everyone's been waiting for.

Warnings: illness, mentions throwing up (no actual throwing up), cold/flu, mentions high temperature, reader feels rough, yeah

A/N: hopefully this is okay, i'm feeling a bit worried about this one but today has been a whirlwind and i finished this to relax and thought i'd post it now so hopefully it's okay. let me know what you think, even if it's criticism! (it's okay if you have ways in which you think i can improve!) also i'm panicking it reads as rushed so i'm very sorry if it does seem rushed but yeah let me know your thoughts!

Taglist: @xweirdo101x @xdark-acadamiax @ara-a-bird @heidss @chubbyboyinflannel @pendragon-writes @migwayne @bigolgay @technikerin23 @supercriminalbean @honestlycasualarcade @caffeine-mess @1s3v3n1 @oddmiles @kevyeen @stealing-kneecaps @criminalskies @woodandwaxwings @wizardmon3 @aphroditeslovr @ducks118 @azeal-peal @13thdoctor-run @introvertpan84

You had felt like shit by the end of the day and had drove home hoping it was just the consequence of a busy day. So, when you got home, you had immediately gotten dressed into your pajamas and quickly ate something and curled up under your covers and fell asleep.

This feeling, however, did not go away when you woke up the next morning. In fact, it had gotten so so so much worse. You couldn't bend down without your head feeling like it was going to explode. But still, you got dressed, grabbed a coffee and made your way to work. (You weren't one to give in to illness).

"You look rough." Morgan stated as you walked into the bullpen.

"'M fine," You mumbled, removing your hat and placing it on the desk as you tried to push the hair that was now stuck to your forehead back. "'m not even sick-"

"You need to go home." Hotch says as he joins the rest of the group, you shake your head, blinking any dots from your vision.

"No, I'm fine. I can still work," You insisted. Hotch studied you once more before sighing.

"If I agree to let you stay, I want you to stay at the police station,"

You sniffed slightly as you nodding, "Yessir,"

"And I want someone with you at all times."

"'M fine," You argued, "D'n't needta with someone,"

Hotch raised an eyebrow. Derek gave a small smirk, "Hey cowboy, did you know your drawl is this prominent when you're sick?"

"Ain't sick." You mumbled giving a sniff as you went to sit down.

"Before you sit down Cowboy, we've got a case." Garcia said a she walked passed you. You closed your eyes, trying to not groan.

You managed to get some shut eye on the jet after going over the case once more, cowboy hat on the desk as you rested your head against the cool window. Hopefully it wasn't too obvious how shit you felt.

When you woke up, your head seemed to be pounding in time with your heartbeat and it made you want to crawl under the covers and cry. But you ignore it, giving JJ a smile (trying not to wince at the pain that explodes through your head as a result).

And, as usual, you all hit the ground running. Normally, you loved your job, but not today. All you wanted to do was sleep.

It was now close to midnight and you genuinely thought that you might throw up. You hadn't really eaten much today, what with feeling ill, so that probably wasn't helping. You drew in a deep breath as you tried your best to focus on the profile written out in front of you.

"Come on Cowboy, you need to head back to the hotel." Morgan said, gently nudging your shoulder.

"'M fine." You huffed.

Morgan rolled his eyes but left you to it, instead, walking out of the room and fishing his phone out of his pocket.

"Oracle of all, how may I assist the?"

Derek smiled, "Hey baby girl, I need some advice, how do I get Cowboy to go to the hotel?"

Penelope gave a chuckle, "That's an easy question, at least give me a challenge." There was a small pause, "Is he okay?"

"He's refusing to accept he's ill."

"Get JJ to talk to him." Penelope said, Derek could practically hear the shrug as she spoke.

Derek furrowed his eyebrows, "Okay, are you sure that'll work?"

"Remember when he quit smoking?"

"Yeah."

"It was because JJ asked him to."

"Seriously?" Derek's jaw dropped, "Are they completely blind? Its obvious they're smitten."

"They're both too blind to see it. It's romantic really."

"It's painful."

"Alright, I'll give that a shot, thanks Mama,"

"Anytime, my Chocolate Thunder!" Garcia said before hanging up, just as JJ walked past.

"Oh! JJ, you need to talk to (Y/N), he's refusing to go back go the hotel and he looks like he's going to collapse at any moment."

JJ looked at Morgan and nodded, "I don't know why he's refusing to admit he's ill." She said, "But I'll see what I can do."

"Thank you!"

You looked up from your notes when you heard the door open, sending JJ a smile as she walked in. Feeling immediately a little bit more like yourself with her presence. "Hi," She smiled, "How you feeling?"

"'M not ill,"

"Yes you are." JJ said, voice firm, "And it's okay that you are, we all get ill. But you need to go back to the hotel and rest, otherwise you'll just feel worse."

"Can still help," You mutter and JJ shakes her head.

"Nope, no you can't," She said, "I'm sorry, but you need to go back to the hotel to get some rest."

"But-" You look at JJ before sighing. "Fine. Not happy 'bout it though,"

JJ rolls her eyes with a fond smile, "Come on, I'll drive you,"

She let Hotch know she was going to drive you back (ignoring Morgan's look of absolute shock), voicing her concerns about leaving you on your own at the hotel. Hotch's gaze shifted to you in the briefing room hunched over slightly as you tried to ignore the throbbing in your head.

"Do you think you could work from the hotel room?" JJ nodded, "Alright, stay with him for a little while, I'll send Prentiss or Morgan to the hotel in a bit."

"Alright, I'll take him back before he collapses or something," JJ half-joked as she quickly gathered her things. Turning to the door, she watched as you staggered in, trying your best to look as unphased as possible. "Ready to go?"

"Mhm," You hummed, clutching your hat tightly in your hands, "All good,"

You let your head fall against the window of the car, music playing gently, listening to JJ quietly singing along. Soon enough, you had reached the hotel and you were (despite feeling like shit) insisting on taking JJ's bag and coat. Eventually, she gave in and the pair of you headed to one of the hotel rooms.

When you got there, you put all your shame to one side and rummaged in your bag for your pajama's, grabbing a pair of shorts and a t-shirt you quickly make your way to the bathroom and get changed. You throw the clothes into your bag to sort out later. Taking some cold and flu medication you then fling yourself onto the bed (which if the pounding in your head said anything, it was a bad idea).

"How are you feeling?"

"Been better," You mumbled, you watch as she walks over to you. She places the back of her hand against your forehead slightly.

"You're running a high temperature," She mumbles.

You looked at her, giving her a dopey smile, having to refrain yourself from making a joke. Unfortunately, this means that something else (and much more private) sneaks out.

"I really like you," You said, reaching up to pat her cheek. "You're really pretty. N it really hurt my feelin's when you went on that date 'cause I think I love you n when I say think I mean I know."

JJ gives you a small smile as she brushes your hair off her forehead, "I feel the same,"

You both stare at each other for a moment, both living in denial before one of you said the inevitable. Taking a deep breath, you decide you would rather be the bad guy in this story than for JJ to feel guilty. It seems that whilst you were ill, you were still able to think somewhat coherently.

"We can't do anythin' about it." You said, furrowing your eyebrows heavily, "We work together,"

"I know," She answered, giving a small smile. "It's okay."

You both sat in silence, drinking in the other's presence. Seeing JJ frown, you interlock your hands, "You a'right?"

"I'm just tired," She said, giving you a small smile, "You must be too with that fever you're running,"

You hummed slightly as you relaxed, letting your head gently fall against the pillow. "Very," JJ smiled at the thick twang of your accent peaking through in your tiredness.

"Get some sleep, I'll wake you for your next round of meds," She joked lightly, you gave a small smile as your eyes fluttered shut.

JJ kept her smile until she was sure your eyes were fully closed and then she let her smile drop. Perhaps there would be some day in the near future when neither of you would care about whether or not your jobs allowed you to date.

#criminal minds #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid #emily prentiss #david rossi #jennifer jareau #x male reader #x cowboy reader #bau x cowboy reader #cowboy reader #male reader #male!reader #reader #x reader

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imagines--galore · 3 months

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||Mind Over Matter|| Part Fifteen

Summary: Evelyn is Penelope Garcia’s protégé. She is a tech wiz, and knows her way around any kind of security and just like her mentor knows how to dig deep and get into the past of anyone and has a knack for anything with a chip in it. Including potato chips. The one thing she fails at is figuring out is the mind and how it works.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Evelyn Richardson(OC)

Rating || Genres || Warnings: T+ Romance. Adventure. Family. Some language, blood and violence in later installments.

Previously - Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine, Part Ten, Part Eleven, Part Twelve, Part Thirteen, Part Fourteen

A/N: A brief intro to someone from Evelyn’s past!

"Evelyn? Mind handing me that box of files?"

Silence greeted the young Doctor's request. A few seconds passed before he glanced up from the file he had been thumbing through, only to frown slightly at the sight of his friend staring blankly at the screen of her phone.

"Evelyn?" He spoke again, this time a little more loudly. No response.

Leaning forward he placed a hand on her shoulder. "Eve?" Despite his voice being gentle and low, the red head jumped, startled. Quickly putting her phone away, she sniffed before turning to Reid.

"Sorry Spence, I was thinking about something. What did you say you need?" She asked, eyes blinking rapidly behind her glasses. Spencer frowned. "That box." He pointed to the one right beside her. Nodding, the woman quickly slid the box over to him before turning her attention to the laptop screen she had opened in front of her. Though he had begun to rummage in the box for whatever file he needed, Spencer did not miss the way Evelyn brushed at her cheek where a tear had escaped. Not wanting to pry at the moment, he made a note to ask what was troubling her later.

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"That was quite the lucky break Ginger." Morgan commented, smiling slightly at the petite red head, who merely shrugged in response. "It was really chance on my part. I mean its unbelievable how narcissistic the man was that he wanted to watch as we went over the crime scenes. He really didn't think he'd get caught." She muttered incredulously under her breath as she packed up her laptop in her bag.

Her mind was still reeling from what had happened in the past couple of days. The Unsub picked up the three victims and one would be victim at rather upscale and luxurious locations before charming them and courting them for exactly two weeks. Flowers, dinners, dancing, nighttime walks. The works.

And then at the end of the second week, he would insist on coming to their home for the first time. He would sleep with them and afterwards, insisting that since they had had the best two weeks of their lives what more could they have asked for before killing them. Of course, he wouldn't kill them immediately. The Unsub, later named Julian Black, would give them some form of anesthesia that would have them feeling numb around the area where he would then stab them so they would not feel any pain. Afterwards, he would watch them lay there, helpless and vulnerable, as the bled to death.

He had been in the process of courting his fourth victim when Evelyn, wanting to see if there was perhaps a hidden USB the last victim had been using to keep her more personal files safe, had stumbled upon the tiny camera while on the hunt. The Unsub had not been monitoring his feed at the time, and the red head had been quick when it came to tracking where the signal for the camera pinged. Within half an hour the FBI had apprehended Julian Black and led him away in cuffs.

Job done and killer behind bars, the BAU were now packing up. Though since it was nearly midnight Hotch had given the order for everyone to rest up for the night. They would be heading back to Quantico in the morning.

Emily smiled at the younger Agent. "Still, it was rather quick work on your part. I'm sure Penelope will be proud of you." Evelyn blushed at the praise, smiling brightly as she shouldered her bag. "Are you saying she isn't proud of me on a normal basis Emily?" She questioned, the teasing lilt in her tone evident as she raised an eyebrow at her friend.

The dark haired woman rolled her eyes. "Don't go fishing for compliments Richardson, you need to earn 'em." She called over her shoulder as she exited the room. Whatever retort Evelyn was about the give died on her lips the very moment her bright blue eyes focused on the person who had just entered the room they had been using to conduct all their research. The smile dropped from her lips, the light in her eyes dimmed, her shoulders slumped, and she appeared to make herself smaller. Smaller then she already was.

"D-Diana."

She whispered softly, prompting Morgan and Spencer, both of whom had been helping put away everything for later evidence, to stop what they were doing and turn their attention to the newcomer.

She was gorgeous, there was no denying that. Beautiful long blonde locks, bright blue eyes, a perfect heart shaped face and small nose with a set of full lips. Tall, with curves in all the right places, and dressed head to toe in designer attire. There was the telltale sign of a baby bump showcasing that she was not that far along, and that only seemed to add to her aesthetic. Of course, all that beauty was for naught given that her lips were pulled into a vicious smile and her eyes full of hatred and anger.

"Were you really about to go without even saying hello to your older sister? Aww Evelyn. I'm hurt." She spoke in a voice dripping with sarcasm, walking forward, towering over the red head.

Evelyn shook her head. "N-no. I-I was just b-busy with the c-case." She managed to stammer, eyes darting to her friends. Suddenly she flinched seeing Diana lift her hand. Only to relax when she simply placed a finger under her own lips as she assessed her sister. The flinch wasn't missed by the two profilers. Obviously Diana had hit Evelyn in the past given how the latter had reacted. Though the two men were still trying to wrap their head around the fact that they were looking at Evelyn's sister. They had known she had an older sibling, but one living in New York, so closely connected to their case? That was new information.

Diana nodded. "I'm sure you were. Though if you had gotten here sooner I wouldn't have lost my best friend." Evelyn flinched at the mention of the third victim. Morgan, bless his soul, jumped in to save her. "We were only informed of the case after Hailey's body was found. And it was your sister's quick thinking that we were able to catch the killer." Sharp blue eyes glanced carelessly in his direction before they were back on Evelyn. "I'm surprised she didn't manage to screw it up like she does everything." The words cut deep, prompting the red head to inhale sharply to try and steady her rapidly beating heart.

"Diana…I-" She was cut off when her sister cast her a hard look. "Did I say you could speak?" The other two Agents were absolutely stunned with the way Diana was speaking to their friend. Before Morgan could say anything, Reid had already stepped forward and placed his hand on Evelyn's shoulder, pulling her away from the taller blonde and stepping in her place. His face was unreadable as he fixed his gaze on Diana.

"If you're only going to speak to her like that I suggest you leave." He spoke coldly. The woman growled under her breath before sparing Evelyn one last glare, where she was staring at her sister from over Reid's shoulder. "I see you're still letting someone else fight your battles for you." The blonde turned on her heel and stalked out of the room. She paused at the door, glancing back at her cowering sister. "Even as an FBI Agent you're just as pathetic as you were when we were kids."

And then she was gone.

Stunned silence followed her exit. Morgan and Reid both turned their attention towards Evelyn. Her eyes swam with unshed tears, and her body was trembling. Her knuckles were white from where she had been gripping the strap of her bag.

"Evelyn? What was-"

"I have to go." Without even giving Morgan a chance to finish his question, Evelyn darted out from behind Reid and out of the room, leaving two stunned men in her wake.

————————–

An hour later found Morgan exhausted and saddened as he stepped out of Evelyn's room at the hotel. He very nearly ran into Reid who had been standing just outside. Morgan had offered to check in on Evelyn first, while Reid had made a quick detour to his room to change out of the clothes he had been wearing the entire day. He had opted for a plain t-shirt and plaid pajama pants, with a hastily tied dressing gown over it. The older Agent pursed his lips before sighing. "You can go in, but I don't think she has the strength to talk about it again." Reid glanced at the door over Morgan's shoulder, before shaking his head.

"I just want to make sure she's alright."

Nodding Morgan patted him on the shoulder before disappearing down the hall towards his own room. Neither of them had spoken to anyone else on the Team about what had occurred. Both of them had decided that it would be Evelyn's decision at that front. Hesitating for just a moment, Spencer inhaled deeply through his nose before gently knocking against the maroon colored door. "Evelyn? Its me. Can I come in?"

There was no response. Spencer was just about to turn away, thinking that perhaps she wanted to be alone, when the handle turned, allowing the door to stand slightly ajar. Taking it as his invitation, Spencer stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. The room was spacious and was one with a balcony. Evelyn had left the sliding doors open to allow the midnight breeze to cool her room. The girl in question had walked back to her spot on the bed. Laying down on the soft mattress, dressed in an oversized shirt and faded pajama pants, she lay there with her gaze trained towards the ceiling.

Spencer was so used to seeing them shimmer with a range of different emotions. From laughter and anger, to confusion and distaste. But right then they were dull and lifeless. And sad. And alone. She gently patted the spot beside her. Walking over to her, he settled down next to her staring up at the ceiling as well. The bed was just big enough for the two of them, leaving barely any space between them.

"You talk to Morgan?" A meek nod followed his question.

Silence.

"Are you alright?" A slight shake of the head was his response.

Silence.

"I'm not the best when it comes to these things but if you want to talk some more, I'm here."

Silence. And this one stretched on for a good few minutes before her lips parted and she spoke. "Even after so many years, she still hates me." Spencer turned his head to focus his gaze on her. "I don't know what I did, but ever since I can remember she has always hated me." A sigh followed her words. "And she refuses to tell me what it is that I did. Now I think she hates me because she has hated me her entire life and just can't associate any other emotion when it comes to me."

He stayed quiet. "I'm sure that whatever you did, if you even did anything, you didn't mean any harm." Spencer had his doubts that Evelyn had done something wrong. She was the kindest most caring person he had ever met so far in his life and he doubted she had ever done any person any harm intentionally. Her gaze turned to him, and he realized that she wasn't wearing her glasses. Without the wide frame of her glasses, her features appeared delicate and soft.

"I was always envious of her. Still am. When we were kids she was always the one with all the friends. And even back then she was so beautiful. People refused to believe that we were even sisters since we look nothing alike and given how plain I am." He hummed once she finished speaking. "Typically the older child is the object of envy for the younger child, since they have more expectations to live up to."

The red head nodded, unconsciously leaning her head against his shoulder, scooting just a little closer to him. "I know. It's the natural order of things." For his part Spencer turned on his side and wrapped his arm around her waist. The change in his position had her head shifting to rest on his chest instead, right above his heart. Another few minutes of silence, before a sniffle was heard.

"I just sometimes wish she would see me as her sister. I even made a birthday wish about that once." A tearful laugh escaped her lips as she recalled her childhood memory. His other hand lifted to gently run his fingers through her brilliant red locks. Evelyn's hands rested against his chest, her fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt, as if she were afraid he would suddenly leave. "I know that it doesn't make up for it but you can always adopt Garcia as your older sister."

A chuckle sounded from her, prompting him to smile as well at her words. "I think mother-hen is a better fit for her." He laughed softly, his gaze soft as he looked at her. "You're probably right. JJ then and I suppose in time Emily as well." Evelyn nodded against his chest, tilting her head back to look at him. "Then I suppose Morgan is my older brother. Given how protective he is." Spencer hummed in agreement, feeling his eyelids start to grow heavy. "And Hotch and Gideon your father figures." The red head made a small noise of agreement as she yawned. Her lips were pulled into a smile though as she thought about the family she had made over the years.

Snuggling closer to Spencer, she inhaled deeply, taking in his unique scent. "What about you?"

The man blinked. "What about me?"

Her blue eyes found his hazel gaze. "What title do you hold in my make-shift family?" The Genius thought for a few seconds before shrugging. "I don't know. What title do you think fits me as someone in your life?"

Pursing her lips slightly, Evelyn allowed her eyes to slide close mind pondering on the question. The answer though came not from her brain, but from her heart and the words rose to her lips unbidden, unfiltered and with no hesitation.

"My best friend." Came her sleepy reply, which was followed by a sleepy kiss to his cheek on her part.

Spencer lay there stunned. He took in her half-asleep state. The gentle smile on her lips and her heavily lidded eyes, her breath beginning to even out as she fell asleep. Her eyelids fluttered as she fought to stay awake. A warmth spread through him at her words. One that finally came to settle in his chest. Pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead he whispered against her soft skin. "And you are mine." Humming sleepily Evelyn snuggled even closer to Spencer, greedily seeking his body heat as she slowly succumbed to sleep.

"And Evelyn?"

"Hmm?"

"I don't know how anyone wouldn't think you're pretty…"

"That's because I'm not…"

"You're beautiful."

"Thanks Spence. You're beautiful too."

"You're welcome Evie."

The words slurred as they both drifted off to sleep. Evelyn with her head resting near Spencer's chest, one hand resting against his chest, the other resting atop him, just under his shoulder. And Spencer, for his part, slept with one arm under her waist and the other lifted at a slightly odd angle so that his fingers could tangle in her red hair.

Neither stirred the entire night. Not by the cold breeze. Or nightmares.

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Tag List - molethemollie @cillsnostalgia @aceofspades190 @kathaaaaaaa @lovelyygirl8

#spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x oc #spencer x oc #spencer reid x reader #dr spencer reid x reader #dr spencer reid x oc #dr spencer reid x y/n #Criminal Minds #criminal minds imagine

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madddddy · 2 months

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I have zero explanation for any of these, but here is Criminal Minds characters as Taylor Swift albums. Also if you haven’t listened to TTPD go do it, it’s so good!!

Debut - JJ

Fearless - Morgan

Speak Now - Luke

Red - Emily

1989 - Tara

Reputation- Elle

Lover - Garcia

Folklore - Hotch

Evermore - Gideon

Midnights - Rossi

The Tortured Poets Department - Reid

Also shoutout to Highway Don’t Care by Tim McGraw, Taylor Swift, and Keith Urban, that song is for Will

#criminal minds #taylor swift #jennifer jareau #derek morgan #luke alvez #emily prentiss #tara lewis #elle greenaway #penelope garcia #aaron hotchner #jason gideon #david rossi #spencer reid #william lamontagne jr

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honeypiehotchner · 9 months

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Devil’s Backbone (Unsub!Hotch x Fem!Reader) — part sixteen

I'm ALIVE!!! Listen, long story short, moving to a different country is hard. And it is harder when you get sick...and when that sickness puts you in the hospital. Anyway! I am out of the hospital now, doing much better, and ready to finish uploading this fic and break some hearts because ooh boy :))))

Warnings: this is just sad idk what else to say for myself

Sixteen: You’re still the oxygen I breathe — “THE LONELIEST” by Måneskin

A new plan was devised. You were going to meet Hotch, but you weren’t going in completely alone. He didn’t need to know that.

Honestly, he was a fool if he didn’t suspect you to come with some form of backup.

You were told to meet him at a local park, one that closed down at dusk, but obviously that didn’t matter. He said he’d find you when you got there. And the two of you would talk somewhere private.

It scared and excited you at the same time. You felt you finally had the opportunity to make it all right. You’d convince him to turn himself in, to get help. To stop killing. To save himself. You had a feeling in your gut that you were the only one who could convince him to stop. You knew you had to try.

“Do I really need this?” you grumbled, taking the bulletproof vest from Morgan.

“Yeah, you do,” Morgan replied, deadpan but not too stern. “Put it on.”

You already were. Deep down, you knew it was better to be safe than sorry.

“Prentiss and I will be parked just down the street,” Morgan explained. “We’ll move closer once you guys are out of sight. We’ll be right there with you.”

“Don’t worry, kiddo,” Rossi tried to offer a smile, but you could tell it was a struggle. “It’ll be alright. It’ll be over after this.”

Somehow, even then, you knew that wasn’t true. But you nodded anyway, ignoring the nagging feeling in your chest.

You shrugged your jacket over the vest. It wouldn’t hide it completely, but you didn’t think that mattered. Aaron probably expected you to come with the vest on, or some sort of protection. He didn’t request that you come unarmed, so you had your handgun, but you didn’t plan on using it. You hoped he didn’t plan on using his, either.

Reid stayed at the precinct to work with Garcia, but Rossi and JJ went into the field as well. Police were set up to watch the exit roads from the park, and Rossi and JJ would be there with them, waiting. Just in case.

You glanced at the clock on the wall. It was nearing midnight. Almost time.

+++

Aaron felt himself going insane.

At first, when he meant to meet with you, it was purely to get the team off of his back. To try his hand once again to convince you to leave it alone. But he knew that wouldn’t work. Not really.

Then he saw Jack. He swore it. As he killed the most recent unsub, he swore it. He swore he saw Jack run from him, hiding somewhere in that house. He swore.

But he knew where Jack was buried. He watched them lower his casket into the ground, right next to Haley. To rest there forever, safe from harm, away from Hotch, finally at peace. It tore him in half.

He needed to see you. He needed you. But he didn’t need the team; he didn’t need you as an agent. It was different. He knew you felt it too, so he knew you would meet him.

He saw you parking your car across the parking lot. It was one of the team’s SUVs, but he figured it would be. What mattered most was that you were alone.

+++

As he said he would, Aaron found you.

You left your car and headed into the park, finding a random bench to sit down on. It was underneath a streetlamp, so you figured Prentiss and Morgan had a visual on you from there. Aaron came out of the shadows.

“Jesus,” you jumped clear in the air and onto your feet, your hand instinctively reaching for your gun on your hip. Aaron noticed.

He smirked. “I see you came armed.”

“You didn’t say not to,” you exhaled. “I don’t exactly like being in a park in the middle of the night alone.”

“You’re not alone. I’m here.”

“Yes, that makes it much better,” you glared at him. You didn’t mean to be so fierce with him, but it happened. The frustration and pain you had felt for weeks resurfaced as pure, red anger. “Why did you ask me to come here? I could get fired.”

“We’ve done worse that you could easily be fired for as well.”

Your ears burned. You silently thanked the team that said they didn’t have time to hook you up with a wire.

“What do you want?” you asked again, crossing your arms over your chest.

Aaron smiled. It sent a chill down your spine. It wasn’t his smile. “Walk with me.”

“Why?”

“You’re full of questions tonight,” he mused, stepping closer to you, crowding your space in the way you used to love. His eyes scanned your face. “Why are you nervous?”

“You threatened to kill me the last time we spoke, so.”

“I told you not to give me a reason to,” he clarified, as if it made it sound any better. “Is there a reason you’d like to share?”

You thought of the police cars silently surrounding the perimeter. Reid and Garcia worked to find where Philips might be with his son, to be one step ahead of Hotch. Prentiss and Morgan in one car, binoculars pressed to their eyes. Rossi and JJ waited in another car, coordinating how to take Hotch down if he ran.

“No,” you said firmly. “Are you going to talk or can I go back to sleep? I’m exhausted, thanks to you.”

“Ah, you know, then,” he replied, turning to walk away from you, down the paved path. “The unsub I killed last night.”

“Daniel Newman,” you said, following him. You watched Hotch scoff at the name. You pressed that point, “What?”

“He was an unsub.”

“Unsubs don’t have names now?”

He shot you a heated glare. He knew you were toying with him. You hadn’t expected it to get under his skin as much as it was.

“You’re the unsub now, Aaron. Do you have any idea of the consequences of what you’ve done?”

“They should thank me for what I’m doing!” he yelled, spinning around to face you. His eyes were wide with fury, an anger so misplaced that you wondered if it was even anger anymore. “These men should’ve never gotten off easy! They killed families! Wives, children!”

“You killed Foyet, Aaron!” you yelled right back, wondering if any of the team was able to hear you. Your voice echoed around you in the empty park. “He’s gone. You finished it. What the hell are you doing now?”

“Actually finishing it,” he snapped, his eyes haunted. “You have no idea what I’ve been through. Losing Haley, losing Jack— I saw him. Last night, I swore he was there, but I know we buried him. I lowered his coffin myself but I keep seeing him. So don't tell me what to do. You have no idea.”

You watched with each word as Aaron crumbled and crumbled and crumbled. Your face fell when he mentioned seeing Jack, seeing the ghost of a forever little boy who will never grow up. And a father who would never forgive himself for any of it.

“Aaron, please,” you whispered, stepping closer, unable to stand it when he was like this. The tears gathering in his eyes, the broken sound from his chest when you touched him gently. “Come here.”

He let you, and you were shocked, but you didn’t back down. You held him there, his head pressed into your shoulder, your fingers buried in his hair, shushing him. You had held him this way before, under completely different circumstances, though still about the loss.

“Aaron, please, come back with me,” you murmured. “We can get you help. We can fix this.”

“What will help is me finishing this.” The words are muffled into your neck, but broken and sobbed all the same.

“It’ll never be finished. You know that, Aaron,” you pleaded, lifting his head, both of your hands cupping his jaw. “Don’t do this. Look at me.” It took a moment, but he did, and he looked recognizable then. Only for a moment, you saw your Aaron. For the last time, though you didn't know it. “Don’t do this to yourself. You can stop now.”

He shook his head. “I can’t.”

“You can,” you argued, your fingertips digging into his cheeks. “You don’t have to do this.”

“I do. I have to,” he said.

It all happened so fast. The police lights grew brighter. Sirens faded and wailed into earshot. Screaming. Spinning. You wanted to cuss all of them out. I almost had him! I almost saved him! But you didn’t. You only thought you did.

“Aaron, please,” you cried as he slipped away from you, betrayal on his face, mixing with the tears that he now regretted having shed. Shame clouded his face. Anger took over next. “I’m sorry,” you sobbed, hands covering your mouth. “I’m so sorry, Aaron, please."

He said nothing. He ran.

#aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner x reader #unsub!hotch x fem!reader #unsub!hotch x reader #unsub!hotch x you #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner fanfic #hotch x fem!reader #hotch x reader #hotch x you #Devil's Backbone #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #aaron hotchner #hotch #hotch fanfiction #hotch fanfic

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fortheloveofwonderland · 1 year

Text

Midnight | Chapter 2 | S.R

Previous Chapter

Chapter Summary - Spencer makes a decision that could effect his whole life.

A/N - Chapter title from the Set it Off album “Midnight”. Song lyrics at the end of the chapter.

Pairing - unsub! Spencer Reid / Fem! Reader

Category - dark angst | smut | very eventual happy ending

Warnings - brief mentions of Tobias Hankel and Maeve, post prison arc, Spencer starting to lose it, case related talk, heavy drinking, slightly suicidal thoughts.

WC - 4.8k

Chapter Two - Hourglass

Four Months Ago

There was a feeling that had ripened within him over time, the feeling that no matter how many they stopped, it would never be enough. Maybe it was Gideon who planted the seed all those years ago when he’d lost his faith in what they did. He hadn’t nurtured it enough and so it hadn’t grown but when it did start to blossom it did so rapidly.

It had taken root deep within him, its long spindles embedded in the soil of his doubt and uncertainty. It fed off of his scepticism, like it was all the water and sunlight it needed to grow and grow until it couldn’t possibly get any bigger.

How much of his life had been spent fixating on serial killers, on the victims they couldn’t save, sometimes even on the ones they did? His work had been his obsession for so many years, even though sometimes it chipped away pieces of him he’d never get back. With his intelligence he could have done anything, but he’d chosen to help people. But it didn’t feel very helpful these days.

Better men and women had given up this life, people much stronger than him, choosing to put themselves above their careers. Gideon. Elle. Alex. Morgan. Hotch. And with each one the world had still turned, the rest of them continued to do what they did best. Serial killers were still brought to justice, victims were still saved. But with each person that left, Spencer felt the losses hit harder.

He’d been punished for simply doing his job time and time again. Hankel had kidnapped him and drugged him while he was following a lead. Maeve had gotten caught up in his web of evil and death. Cat had taken her revenge on him when he’d arrested her.

That’s ultimately what had cultivated the slowly growing seed. Prison had taken something from him he was sure he would never get back. A piece of his sanity, his belief in justice, winning the war of good versus evil. Every case he’d worked since being reinstated had left him feeling disheartened, the bad continually out weighing the good.

He found himself keeping score in his head, which was something Morgan told him never to do. If you start keeping count, pretty boy, you may as well throw in the towel. But the sick tally in his mind grew and grew without his realising.

The number of victims they saved paled in comparison to how many they didn’t. The number of unsubs they arrested didn’t correlate against the ones still out there. The losses hit deeper, scarring him from the inside. No matter how much good they did it wasn’t adequate. It wasn’t enough for him anymore. At some point he had to say, enough is enough.

And enough was enough.

The story of Spencer Reid life’s read as such: son of a schizophrenic mother and a father who abandoned him, genius outcast, FBI agent. There had to be more than this. Time only moved one way, there was no going backwards. But Spencer felt like he'd been standing in place too long.

Enough was enough.

His eyes were trained on the glossy table top, a particular pattern in the wood grain commanding his attention. It was funny that he’d spent so many years sitting at this same table every single day and never paid it any attention. Cases took precedent over examining innocuous pieces of furniture. Or at least, they used to. But the feeling within him that had been growing since prison had all but taken over and he couldn’t even muster the strength to feign an interest in what Garcia was talking about.

The clock on the wall ticked by, it’s monotonous yet rhythmic tick, tick, tick drowning out the sounds of his team talking around him. It felt somewhat pertinent, as though it was counting down the seconds to his demise. He wouldn’t be at all surprised if it started to chime, signifying the hour of his breakdown.

He stared at the same pattern for so long it started to move, swirling and manipulating before his very eyes creating effigies that weren’t really there. Maybe none of them were really there. Maybe he’d died in prison and this was all a particularly vivid creation of his own mind.

It wasn’t a far cry to say he was losing his mind. Maybe he’d already lost it somewhere along the line. Maybe Cat’s baby really was his and the stress of discovering he’d been sexually assaulted caused a late onset schizophrenic break. Maybe he was a shell in a bed on a psych ward, using thoughts of work and his team as a way of protecting himself from what had happened to him.

Or maybe he was just done with it all. Maybe the one small thread holding him tethered to reality had finally snapped. Maybe Doctor Spencer Reid would never be the same again.

Is this where I give in? Is this the end of the road?

“Boy wonder?” Garcia’s voice cut over the droning sound of the clocks ticking.

Spencer’s eyes snapped up from the table and he had to blink a few times to get the moisture back to his eyes and be able to focus on the brightly coloured human ray of sunshine in front of him. Her eyebrows were furrowed beneath the thick frames of her turquoise glasses and her red painted lips were pulled together tightly.

He felt the other seven sets of eyes on him from around the table but tried to ignore them in lieu of focusing on Penelope. One thing at a time, no need to overwhelm himself with stimuli.

He blinked a few more times, trying to tug at his subconscious and ascertain what they had been talking about. He knew it was in there somewhere, even if he hadn’t been actively listening, his brain would have soaked up the words being spoken around him. He clawed for the information he needed but found nothing.

“Huh?” He rolled his lip between his teeth and shrugged almost guiltily at the fact he hadn’t been listening.

“We’re talking about decapitation, you usually have a lot of icky facts on the matter.” Garcia aided him but still saw no recognition behind his eyes that he’d taken any of that in.

He could have spouted off numerous pieces of information pertaining to that subject matter. He could have told her that early versions of the guillotine were used in England from twelve eighty six until the seventeenth century and that the modern form of it was invented shortly before the French Revolution with the aim of creating a quick and painless execution. He could have told her that the United States Government had never employed beheading as a legal method of execution. He could have also told her that Saudi Arabia still used decapitation as a form of capital punishment and it’s the only country still known to do so.

There were a lot of things he could have said, not even necessarily relating to decapitation. Even if he’d said, sorry, I can’t recall any right now, at least it would have been, in some way, better than what he did say.

Truthfully, he wasn’t sure he intended to say what actually came out of his mouth. In fact, he tried hard not to say it. But the thread had well and truly snapped, sending him spiralling into a pit of his own morality. He was too far gone, too much had changed. There was no pulling him back from the brink this time.

When he placed his palms on the table and pushed his chair back, he felt the confusion flood the room. And when he got to his feet and grabbed his satchel, slinging it over his shoulder, he swore he could hear the questions on everyone’s tongues. He kept eye contact with Penelope, trying to block out all the other bodies in the room and keep focused on one single thing.

“I can’t…” he trailed off, voice sounding more or less as shattered he felt. He ran his tongue along his bottom lip, before forcing out the rest of the words. “I can’t fix this.”

By this he meant anything. He couldn’t fix the evil in the world, he couldn’t fix his doubt in their abilities. He couldn’t fix his ever growing need to not be here anymore. But he wasn’t going to stand here and explain that.

He stepped back from the round table, refusing to look at any of his other team members and cast his eyes to the floor as he shuffled his way towards the door.

“Spencer, where are you going?” Emily’s voice called behind him.

“Fix what?” JJ added.

“Kid, we got a case.” Rossi spoke too.

But Spencer ignored them. He wasn’t even sure he really heard them. He continued out of the door and down the walkway towards the stairs leading to the bullpen. He didn’t look back as he made his way to his desk.

He unholstered his firearm, the one he’d worn on his hip for some fifteen years, and placed it on the desk. He’d long ago gotten used to the weight of carrying it around but he couldn’t deny how much lighter he felt when he removed it for the final time. Next he slid his hand inside his satchel and retrieved his FBI credentials and set them down next to his revolver.

He thought maybe he’d feel something as he gave up his life’s work, or hear a voice telling him he was making a mistake. But he didn’t. If anything, the only thing he felt was relief and slightly annoyed he hadn’t done this sooner.

He breathed an easy sigh, content in his decision to walk away. As he looked up from the items on his desk, a set of eyes were staring at him from across the room and his momentary calmness faded away.

He should have known it would be you who came after him. In the few years you’d been with the BAU the two of you had grown close. You took his place as the youngest member of the team, strong, brilliant and fierce in every way.

You had a passion for reading, learning and foreign cinema. You didn’t look disinterested when Spencer reeled off statistics, quite the opposite actually and you even encouraged him to tell you more. It hadn’t taken long before the two of you started hanging out away from work, frequenting book stores and museums and watching movie marathons together.

Spencer thought you were beautiful, possibly more so than anyone he’d ever laid eyes on. But he didn’t mix work and pleasure, it was frowned upon by the bureau and even if it wasn’t Spencer liked to try and keep those two sides of his life separate. He couldn’t imagine sitting at the round table for a morning briefing and having to look across at someone he'd seen naked. Or even more embarrassingly, someone who had seen him naked.

He valued your friendship above all else, and he wasn’t going to let his carnal impulses get in the way of that. But it was because of that friendship that he wasn’t surprised it was you who had followed him.

He stood still as you walked closer to him, knowing it didn’t matter what you were going to say as he’d already made up his mind. He would humour you to a certain extent but he wasn’t going to stay. He couldn’t stay.

“What are you doing?” You sounded mildly frustrated, as though you were a mother who had caught her child defacing the wall.

“Leaving.” He shrugged. “I thought that was fairly obvious.”

“You’re walking away? Leaving the BAU?” You folded your arms over your chest, cocking your eyebrow at him.

“Correct.” He nodded stiffly. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while, since I left prison. I’m no use here anymore.”

“Well that’s just not true.” You clucked.

“Whether it is or it isn’t, it doesn’t change the fact that I am leaving.”

“You’re really over dramatic sometimes, do you know that?”

“Excuse me?” He frowned at you.

“I can’t imagine how terrible prison was, but that’s no excuse for walking away from something you love. You’re going through something, I get it, but throwing away everything you’ve worked so hard for because you spent three months in prison is pretty dumb for someone so smart.” You dropped your arms to your sides, shaking your head at him in disappointment.

Spencer felt a small ball of anger start to pool in his chest at your crude and incorrect summation of what he’d been through. As if you had any clue what prison was like for him, what the weight of carrying around that trauma was like. You were wrong, leaving the BAU wasn’t dumb, it was the smartest thing Spencer had done in a long time. He thought you understood him, but now he could see he’d been sorely mistaken.

“With all due respect, Y/N,” he spat, stepping a little closer to you. “You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. You try spending time in prison for a crime you didn’t commit and then tell me I’m being an idiot. You don’t get to pass judgement on me unless you’ve been where I’ve been, walked a mile in my shoes. And quite frankly, I don’t think you would have made out alive.”

The tone he spoke to you in was like nothing you’d ever heard from Spencer’s lips. It was menacing, almost evil in its nature. It caused the hair on the back of your neck to stand and your stomach coil into knots. Prison had darkened his soul, bruised his psyche. You’d all hoped he would bounce back, but maybe there was no bouncing back. As you looked into his wild eyes, you realised it was possible you had lost Spencer to the shadows forever.

“Fine.” You swallowed your fear, shrugging your shoulders. “I was only trying to help.”

“I don’t need help. Least of all from you.” He hissed, quickly turning on his heels and making quick work of strolling across the bullpen.

You simply watched him go, knowing anything you said would be a waste of breath. Maybe he would come around or maybe he wouldn’t. You supposed it wasn’t your job to look after him despite how much you sometimes wished it were.

But you and Spencer had never been fated to be more than friends, a tragic and cruel joke from the universe in your opinion. He wasn’t your problem, it wasn’t on you to go after him and talk him into coming back. No matter how much it tugged on your heart to watch him walk away.

***

It was hard to concentrate on the case with Spencer’s sudden departure hanging heavily over all of you. It took longer to build a profile and subsequently longer to find the unsub. Maybe if it hadn’t been for Spencer playing on all of your minds you could have found him before he killed that final victim.

You sat alone on the jet home three days later, toying with your phone in your hands. You’d lost count of how many times you’d almost sent that text or nearly called that number. But somehow you knew Spencer didn’t want you reaching out and that you’d only end up more disappointed if you tried.

You’d been so caught up in thoughts you didn’t hear someone heading your way or even sense their presence until a glass of scotch was being slid in front of you. You glanced up to see Luke standing over you, a sympathetic smile on his lips. You nodded by way of telling him to join you and he did.

A few years ago when thirteen serial killers escaped prison, Hotch brought in reinforcements to aid their capture. You were a Fugitive Task Force agent who was tapped alongside Luke Alvez to help with the mammoth undertaking. Ultimately the Fugitive Task Forces loss was the BAU’s gain when you both took Hotch up on his offer to join the unit.

You and Luke went way back, more years than you cared to count. It was you he’d gone to when Daniel Cullen had attacked his partner and thought Phil would never walk again. It was you he called when he drank so much he could barely stand and you who would drive him home from the bar night after night, making sure he got back safe.

It was you who had suggested him getting a dog to assist with his rapidly declining mental health and residual PTSD from serving overseas. It was also you who had gone to multiple breeders and watched him handle an obscene amount of puppies until he found the right one for him. It was you he called in the middle of the night when Roxy peed on his couch while she was toilet training or ate one of his shoes.

So it was little surprise when he was tapped by the BAU to help capture those thirteen killers, the Crimson King included, that he’d put your name forward for it too.

Luke Alvez was the closest thing to a brother you’d ever had. At least now he was anyway. Once upon a time there had been a fleeting moment where the two of you considered the possibility of being more than friends, several years ago now. It happened one night after he’d called you when Roxy had gotten out. You’d spent hours looking for her and upon returning the dog home, Luke had shown his gratitude by kissing you.

It wasn’t completely unwelcome, you’d always thought Luke was devilishly good looking and so maybe you’d kissed him back. No, you’d definitely kissed him back. But as his hands started pawing at you, trying to lead you back towards the couch, you found yourself moving away.

“What are we doing?” You couldn’t help the soft chuckle that left your lips.

Luke looked slightly bewildered, his lips a little puffy from the kiss. And then he started to laugh too.

“I have no idea.”

Neither of you had ever brought it up again and you’d fallen into a sibling type relationship. Luke looked out for you, he was the one person you always trusted to have your back and vice versa. He knew you inside and out, all the skeletons in your closet, so it wasn’t a surprise that he’d been the one to come and talk to you now.

He lifted his glass and you followed suit, clinking it against his. You both brought your respective glasses to your lips and sipped the amber liquid.

“So,” he sat back in his chair, swirling the scotch around. “Weird week, huh?”

“I’ll say.” You rolled your eyes, quickly taking another sip.

“You think this is really it? You think he’s not coming back?”

“I don’t know him as well as people think I do.” You shrugged with a sad smile.

“You spend more time with him than anyone else does. I’m almost jealous of how much time you spend with him, conejito.”

You couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips at his use of your nickname, just like you’d expected had been his plan. It was a Spanish term of endearment which he’d called you for as long as you could remember. It meant little bunny and he’d dubbed you such due to how fast you were.

You’d gone for a run together one day not long after you’d joined the Fugitive Task Force and he’d been amazed that you’d run circles around him. As he caught you up, struggling to catch his breath he’d laughed, “whoa slow down there conejito!” And the epitaph had stuck ever since.

“Oh please, you know you’ll always be my main man, viejo.” You shot him a sly smirk.

In kind, you’d bestowed upon him the moniker of viejo or old man. He’d been so impressed you’d actually learnt even a single word of Spanish he hadn’t even been mad at the slight against him.

“As sweet as that is,” he chuckled before turning suddenly serious. “Is there something you haven’t told me about you and Reid?”

“Alvez, trust me when I say, you and I got closer than Spencer and I ever will.”

“You mean to tell me you spend all that time together and you’ve never…” he trailed off, giving you a suggestive look.

“We never.” You shook your head with a small laugh. “Do you think if we had we’d have been able to keep that from a team of profilers? You and I made out once a million years ago and within two days of being with the team JJ asked me what the deal between us was.”

“Did you tell her?” Luke frowned but amusement danced in his eyes.

“Not in so many words. But she knows. They all do. Why? Are you embarrassed?”

“Embarrassed? For people to know I made out with a smoking hottie like you? Never.” He scoffed. “The only embarrassing part was that I couldn’t seal the deal.”

“Oh stop.” You laughed, waving your hand in the air.

“Aye, you would have made a beautiful bride.” He teased.

“Enough!” You couldn’t help but giggle.

“Y/N Alvez. Ay dios mio.”

“You’re done. Jokes over.” You were still smiling when you brought your drink to your lips.

“Sorry.” He snickered, not sounding at all sorry. “You gonna talk to him?”

“Why me? Literally everyone on this jet bar you and Simmons have known him longer than I have. Why do I have to be the one to talk to him?” You huffed into your glass.

“Because,” a voice came from behind Luke and JJ stood up and rounded the seat with a slightly sad smile. “You’re his best friend.”

It pained her to say it and you knew it. You’d shown up at the BAU one day and taken the title of Spencer’s best friend from her without meaning to. You rolled your lip between your teeth guiltily.

“I wouldn’t say that.” You tried to shrug it off.

“I would.” Luke scoffed. “And so would anyone who has spent any time with the two of you.”

“Either that or they’re in love with each other.” Rossi called out from somewhere down the jet.

“Well now you’re just being absurd.” You shot back.

The chatter continued around you, the rest of the team piping up to tease you but it wasn’t the same as it usually was. There was something missing, a void that had been left in the group dynamic with Spencer’s sudden departure.

Maybe things would never be the same again.

***

Spencer knew he needed to do something. After three days of pacing back and forth throughout his apartment, practically wearing a hole in the carpet, he knew he couldn’t do this forever.

What was life after the BAU? What was Spencer Reid’s next move?

There were countless things he could do with his time, with his intelligence it wouldn’t be hard to find another job. He also had enough money saved from years of government work and a low budget lifestyle, so he didn’t have to work. But after three days the boredom grew to fever pitch, he certainly needed to do something.

It would be easier to think if his brain wasn’t clouded by a long list of names. The names took up so much space in his mind that he didn’t have much capacity for anything else.

Names of victims he couldn’t save. Memories of all the people he wasn’t able to get to in time. Piled up inside his head were self compiled case files of the ones they simply didn’t have the time or resources to help. And along with that, a list of suspects who had gotten away with murder.

What if there was some way for him to still make a difference, to still help those in need all on his own. A one man justice system where there were no rules, no bureaucratic red tape to skirt around. Where no one was dictating to him who he could help and how he could do that.

As he continued to pace the length of the room, his frantic mind racing through thoughts at a hundred times a minute, he accidently kicked one of multiple empty scotch bottles littering his floor. He shook it off and continued to march up and down, bringing the bottle in his hand to his lips and taking a generous sip.

This was what the BAU would refer to as devolving. Spencer was spiralling down into an abyss of his own creation. He’d been drunk almost constantly since he walked out of Quantico three days ago, but even intoxicated he was still smarter than any sober person.

He wore nothing but a pair of underwear and his old, tawny robe which he wore open, slipping off of his shoulders more every minute. He hadn’t bathed, hadn’t even so much as brushed his errant locks. He hadn’t slept much aside from a few hours here and there but that was only when he drank so much scotch it caused him to pass out.

Maybe there was nothing left out there for him. Perhaps he’d peaked, reached the highest climbs of his own expectations. Maybe he was destined to spend the rest of his days as nothing more than a drunk lunatic who raved about his glory days as a once prolific FBI Agent.

If he couldn’t stop lamenting over the list of names now etched into his brain, there was little chance he’d ever do anything more with his life.

He’d had forty two years on this Earth, some better than others. He had three PhD’s, he’d worked hard at a job he loved for a long time. He’d made a difference, even if only in a small way. Maybe forty two average years was better than eighty terrible ones.

Sure he’d never gotten married, never even come close. He’d never had the chance to be a father, something he’d always wanted to achieve. But maybe it simply wasn’t on the cards for him. He was sure he could learn to be ok with that.

He took another large sip from the bottle, finishing the contents and feeling the blissful burn as it made its way down his throat. He tossed the empty bottle on the floor with the others as he stumbled back to the couch.

He fell to the leather cushion, holding his face in his hands and closing his eyes, welcoming the dizzying sensation of the alcohol swarming his brain. Something had to give. He couldn’t keep on this path of self destruction. But what? What did the future hold for Doctor Spencer Reid?

The grains of sand had been steadily trickling through the hourglass for fifteen long years and once it was emptied, Spencer knew there was no going back. And time was about to run out for him.

When pretending lends a helping hand,

We hold it close, so close and never let it go.

Then the pen begins to write the story,

With an end that bends right out of our control.

How did we get so jaded? I don't know,

Was it the white lies feeding our egos?

I never valued minutes I burned through,

Is that just how it goes?

Seconds I wasted, I was fixated,

You're devastated, sorry to say,

I can't fix it, is this where I give in?

I'm falling through the hourglass,

And I don't think I'll ever make it back.

So I throw stones at walls I'll never climb,

Victim to the sands of time.

Falling through the hourglass, the hourglass.

Time is strange, it's ever flowing, never going back,

It moves but only in one way.

Turn the page, look back at what you wrote,

Do you still feel the same?

I'll bet your mind has changed.

How did it get so scary? I don't know,

Was it the hard life starving our egos?

I never valued minutes I burned through,

Is that just how it goes?

Seconds I wasted, I was fixated,

You're devastated, sorry to say,

I can't fix it, is this where I give in? (Let's go)

I'm falling through the hourglass,

And I don't think I'll ever make it back.

So I throw stones at walls I'll never climb,

Victim to the sands of time,

Falling through the hourglass, the hourglass.

'Cause that's just how it goes.

Falling through the hourglass,

And I don't think I'll ever make it back.

So I throw stones at walls I'll never climb,

Victim to the sands of time,

Falling through the hourglass, through the hourglass.

I'm falling through the hourglass,

And I don't think I'll ever make it back.

So I throw stones at walls I'll never climb,

Victim to the sands of time,

Falling through the hourglass, the hourglass.

Next Chapter

Taglist

@andiebeaword @measure-in-pain @takeyourleap-of-faith @dirtytissuebox @smurphyse @ssa-uglywhore27 @reidselle @reidsbookclub @dreatine @dr-spencerr-reidd @spenxerslut @radtwinkie @drayshadow @this-is-doctor-and-its-calm @safespacespence @matthew-gray-gubler-lover @people-whatabunchofbastards @justreadingficsdontmindme @dielgonacoffee@hotchandspencearedilfs @spencer-reid-wonderland @thebloomingeagle

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

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aperrywilliams · 2 years

Text

Lost and Gain... and Lost Again? (Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader)

(Not my gif. Credit to the creator)

Author Masterlist

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Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader.

Summary: Reader and Spencer’s bond strengthens after the team receives devastating news. But what happens when that bond becomes an agreement that ends up confusing them more?

Word Count: 10k (Ouch!)

Warnings: MINORS DNI. NSFW. 18+ ONLY. Reference to a character’s death; crying, feelings of regret; mention of nightmares and ideas about drug use (doesn’t happen); mention of wounds and blood (superficial); strong language; penetrative and unprotected sex; oral sex (f and m receiving); fingering; rough sex with chocking; crying after sex; oral and penetrative sex in a public place; voyeurism (from a third person); size kink; gagging. If I forgot something, let me know.

A/N: I wrote this one for Smurph’s Birthday Challenge. Happy birthday, my friend!!!! (a bit late, I’m sorry). If you haven’t read a @smurphyse fic yet, I recommend you do! You’ll find a great writer (Room 405 has the top 1 of my heart). On top of that, one of the best human beings I have had the honor to know. For the challenge, I used the prompt “Get on your knees and show me.” (Category 2); and Choking, Deepthroating, Public sex; Voyeurism; Size Kink (Category 3). Thanks for reading, and keep sending me requests!

Do you want to be added to the taglist? Go HERE

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Reader’s POV.

Emily Prentiss is an extraordinary woman. Smart, determined, brave, tough, compassionate, and the best friend you could ask for. But when she faked her death and disappeared for seven months, it started a series of events that hit my life forever.

‘Devastation’ falls short of describing our emotions after getting the news. The team crumbled. Nobody could believe what had happened. Not to our Emily.

I remember being in my apartment crying for days. I barely made it to Emily’s funeral. I was a complete mess.

Hotch granted us time to process, but we didn’t think it would be enough to overcome our loss.

I knew the other team members were grieving Emily’s death too, but I felt it harder. Maybe it was because I had known Emily for eight years back then. We worked together before she joined the BAU.

Two years after she settled there, a suggestion from her to Hotch gave me the chance to join the team. Once me there, we got inseparable.

So you can guess how hard it was to assimilate that you would never see your friend again.

Morgan and Spencer weren’t okay either. Derek leaned on Garcia for support, showing his anger whenever he could. Spencer leaned on JJ in a more reserved way, although he thought JJ couldn’t fully comprehend his pain.

He told me about this feeling when he knocked on my door one night.

“Spencer?” I looked at him, puzzled. It was near midnight.

“Hey,” he mumbled. “I’m sorry I came here like this all of a sudden. I - I thought that -” he trailed off. His hands were shaking, eyes glassed, dark circles under them, and he looked pale. I knew that face. I saw this in myself plenty of times in the last weeks. Nightmares.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to apologize. Come in.” I pulled him inside the apartment and led him to sit on my couch.

That night we talked until the sun rose. We talked about everything and nothing. He told me about the nightmares, the headaches, and the cravings. I knew about what happened after Hankel. But never did someone tell me the details, and I didn’t ask. It wasn’t my business.

We never were that close before, but I guess circumstances did the job. Grieving the loss of our friend, we realized that we were struggling in a similar way. So why not lean on each other?

That way, nights like that kept happening in the following weeks. Some days at my place, others in his.

Sometimes we just sat to talk. Other times we watched a movie to turn off our thoughts. We could even sit on the couch without talking and staring at the ceiling in comfortable silence.

Gradually the pain gave us a truce, and the company became nice by itself.

I never thought of Spencer as a close friend, at least not in a sense Emily was, but the time we spent together gave us a chance to get to know each other better. I was pleasantly surprised that we had more in common than I had imagined.

We hung out a lot, and we liked it. But there was something more there that I couldn’t explain. Yeah, we could talk, cry, and laugh, but why did it feel like something was missing?

I couldn’t pinpoint what it was until one particular night.

After a messy unsub takedown, Spencer got some cuts and bruises, but he didn’t let the paramedics check on him.

On the flight home, I saw Spencer hiss every time he brushed some spot on his left side.

Spencer-fucking-stubborn-Reid.

When we landed in Virginia, I persuaded him to have dinner and a movie at my place. Secretly I was worried that he would go home without anyone checking on his injuries.

As we put a foot in my apartment, I required him to sit on my couch while I went to get my first aid kit.

“Okay, now let me see those cuts,” I said, inspecting his face as my hand clutched a gauze dipped in alcohol.

“You are being dramatic,” he pointed.

“Oh yeah? Well, prove me wrong then,” I challenged, cleaning one of the cuts on his forehead with the gauze. Spencer hissed at the contact.

“Who’s the dramatic here,” I teased.

Spencer rolled his eyes, knowing I could be as stubborn as he.

“Whatever,” he mumbled.

Once I finished wiping his face, I took another piece of gauze.

“Okay, now let me see your left side.”

“What? Why?”

“I saw how you sizzled whenever you rubbed your left side, Reid. Don’t argue with me.” I instructed. I could see his cheeks turning pink.

With hesitation, Spencer unbuttoned his dress shirt and slid it from his shoulders.

My eyes immediately focused on the scratches on his torso and the dark bruise on his ribs.

“Holy shit Reid. That must hurt,” I said, using the gauze to give attention to his skin.

Then is when I felt it.

A change in the air. It became thick and difficult to ignore. I met Spencer’s eyes, and there was an intensity in them I didn’t see before.

Honestly, I never noticed how beautiful Spencer’s eyes were and how desirable he looked, licking his lips as he watched me methodically sweep the dried blood off his wounds.

Feeling the nearness between us ignited in me a spark I didn’t know was there. When did Spencer’s lips start to look so kissable?

I tried to put that thought in the back of my brain, but touching his skin - even indirectly through a gauze - made it almost impossible.

Chastising myself, I did my best to concentrate on whatever could move me away from my salacious thoughts about my coworker and friend.

‘A Friend. A Friend. A Friend.’ I repeatedly told myself as I finished bandaging the cuts I had just cleaned up.

Little did it help that he was looking at me with those doe eyes.

I wanted to kiss him so bad.

I wanted to fuck him so bad.

I could feel the warmth in a specific spot on my body. My cheeks tinted in dark crimson when I realized what was happening to me.

“Are you o-?” Spencer tried to ask, but before he could finish the question, I silenced him with my lips on his.

I felt Spencer frozen in his spot as I kissed him. Surely he wasn’t expecting that. Neither do I, but I couldn’t help it.

When the senses returned to me, I pulled away.

Shit, I had fucked it up.

Stuttering, I tried to apologize.

“I’m sorry. This was so inappropriate. I - I shouldn’t have done that,” I mumbled, scooting back on the couch and entirely baffled.

Spencer seemed surprised. But something in his eyes told me that he wasn’t upset, quite the opposite. The confirmation came from the very Spencer. Not saying a word, he cupped my cheeks and leaned to kiss me this time.

It didn’t take me long until I let loose and kissed him back.

Quickly our lips started to move frenziedly—all tongues and teeth. The kiss turned heated fast, and our hands began to wander. Just running my fingertips on his bare chest sent shivers down my spine.

Without a second thought, clothes flew from our bodies to land somewhere on my living room floor. I was on Spencer’s lap only minutes later, grinding over his massive erection.

“Fuck,” he muttered. His hands gripped my hips as he bucked up his to increase the friction between us.

Desperately I grabbed his dick to pump it a few times before aligning it to my entrance.

I looked at him, and his full-dilated pupils told me everything I needed to know. He wanted this as much as I did.

Feeling him stretching me was like heaven.

He was big, and his girth perfect enough to have me trembling around him in no time.

That night we fucked on my couch once and two more times in my bed.

I didn’t know if my lack of sexual activity at that time had to do with it, but those were the best orgasms I had had in a long time.

Panting and looking at the ceiling, we agreed not to do it again. It would be weird, and we didn’t want to feel that way at work.

But it happened again. And again. And again.

Some people say that when you get the ‘taste,’ there is no return. If I stick to that, Spencer Reid turned out to be my favorite drug those days.

And I had the feeling I had become the same thing to him.

We settled a new agreement: the typical friends with benefits. How cliche is that? It didn’t really matter to me at the time; we needed the release, the sex, and neither he nor I wanted to pursue a romantic relationship. Let alone when it all started as animalistic sex.

Fantastic, marvelous, extraordinary, necessary animalistic sex.

Thanks to Spencer Reid, I got laid considerably more times in three months than in the past years.

Not that I would complain about it, quite the opposite.

The rules - because, of course, we settled rules - were not to tell anyone, keep it as only sex, not stay the night, and not jeopardize our friendship. If any of us suspected this arrangement could put our friendship in danger, we would call it to quit with no resentment.

It seemed pretty easy.

Having clear rules, we used every chance we got to fuck. His place, my place, sneaking to our hotel rooms during cases. Even at work, we had our favorite abandoned office in the basement.

I found out a lot of things during these months. For example, I didn’t know I could be that horny all the time. Okay, thinking better of it, scratch that.

I did know I could be that horny, but kind of I forgot how it felt until then.

What I truthfully didn’t know was that Spencer could be that horny and touch-starved all the time.

You would say the boy genius that doesn’t shake hands avoids any kind of touch. Wrong. He loves it. Spencer adores cuddling after sex. He likes me playing with his hair and drawing soft patterns on his skin with my fingertips.

Could you believe that Spencer Reid is a boob man? I do now. Sometimes, he lays his head on my chest and hums comfortably between my breasts. I’m pretty sure he would do it if he could always use my boobs as pillows.

But all those displays of affection - or lust, if you want to call it - were only reserved for the bedroom. As soon as we left bed, we returned to our traditional roles as friends and coworkers.

It was working for us. And nobody had to know.

After Emily ‘died.’ Hotch thought we could be fine without another agent, but Strauss had another opinion. That’s why Alice Brown joined the BAU. Strauss herself brought her directly to the team.

As you can guess, we weren’t very enthusiastic about the decision, but the poor girl hadn’t any fault. Young and inexperienced, Alice came to a team with a fractured heart.

The first one who showed friendly with Alice was JJ, who took her under her wing.

Brown did her best to fit into the team. Not much time passed until Morgan and Penelope warmed up with her. Rossi acted like her loving father and Hotch like an understanding boss.

Spencer, the gentleman he is, was way far nice to her. He usually talked to her about books and facts about our cases and the BAU history.

That’s how Alice seemed welcomed after a couple of weeks.

But with me, things didn’t come easy. I knew the poor girl wasn’t trying to replace Emily. I truly understood that, but for me, something about her didn’t fit. I never was deliberately harsh or not polite to her, but we didn’t get that groove she had with the rest of the team.

I thought it was a matter of time.

But maybe I was wrong.

With Hotch away for months, JJ moving to another division, and Rossi barely present, the job weight laid on the remained team members: Morgan, Garcia, Reid, Brown, and I.

Only four agents in the field made things a little bit rough. Rough enough for me to be irritable very often. The bad thing was that my sour mood tended to land on Alice most of the time.

“Why do you go so hard on her?” Morgan chastised me once Alice ran from the conference room crying after I said something a bit sharp.

“I don’t go hard on her. It’s just she should be in tune by now,” I explained.

“Pretty girl, you already forgot when you joined the team?”

“No, Morgan. Don’t play the sentimental card with me. It’s not going to work,” I warned him. Morgan only shook his head.

“I’m just saying you should be more understanding. That’s all.”

Yeah. Maybe Derek was right.

That’s why I gathered the courage to talk to her and apologize. But when I reached Hotch’s office, where I knew she was, I saw Spencer hugging Alice.

The girl was fully crying with her head buried in Spencer’s chest.

I halted in my tracks. Spencer noticed my presence and gave me a disapproving look.

What? Now everyone blames me?

Huffing, I left the room without saying a word.

I didn’t know what was more upsetting: that people accused me of being a bitch with Alice or that she played the victim role. Because that’s what she was doing. She was in Spencer’s arms, looking for comfort, and the bastard provided it with no question.

How does SHE dare? How does HE dare?

That last thought made my heart stop for a second.

Why was I so apprehensive? Was it because of her nearest to Spencer? No. It couldn’t be.

Spencer was only my friend and my fuck-buddy.

And maybe that was the problem. I didn’t want Alice to steal my friend AND my benefits.

“It’s not - fuck!- it’s not I dislike her,” I managed to say to the man with his head between my legs.

“Yu-shul-be-nice-tho,” Spencer mumbled from his spot as he lapped my clit with his glorious tongue and used his slender fingers to pump them in and out of my pussy.

“I am - Oh my God! - I’m nice to her, really - Spencer! Please! Right there!” I whined.

“No. Yu-not,” Spencer rebutted, muffling his words in my core. Feeling my heavy breathing, he sped his fingers’ movement and sucked on my clit hard. Fuck, I was so close.

“Okay! I’m not, but- would you - fuck! - can we stop talking about our coworker? I’m trying to have an orgasm here!”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Seven months ago, I made a decision that affected this team. As you know, Emily lost a lot of blood after her fight with Doyle. But the doctors were able to stabilize her...”

Hotch’s words reverberated in my head as we were in the conference room discussing what to do about Declan’s kidnapping.

‘Stabilize her’? I was still trying to make sense of those words when I saw a ghost at the entrance.

Emily-fucking-Prentiss was alive.

It wasn’t my imagination. I pinched myself to be sure. I locked eyes with Spencer and Morgan, looking for confirmation.

Of the three of us, I was the nearest to faint.

The lack of oxygen made me feel dizzy.

Why didn’t JJ seem surprised? Why Rossi hadn’t the same shocked expression we had?

A lot of those questions were kept on standby as we focused on getting back Declan.

Emily was cautious and didn’t approach anyone just yet.

I worked on autopilot most of the time. I barely spoke a thing in the twenty-four hours the case was open.

After finishing Doyle’s ordeal that night, we returned to the BAU. Emily tried to talk to me, but I ditched her attempt by sneaking into the kitchenette.

I was pouring coffee on my mug for the umpteenth time that day and so lost in my thoughts that I didn’t notice Spencer standing on the threshold.

He cleared his throat but kept silent as he decided what to say.

I spared him the trouble.

“You don’t need to say anything, you know. There are no words to make sense of this.”

Spencer sighed.

“Eventually, we should,” he pointed.

I met his eyes so that he could see the bitterness in my gaze.

“Should we? I was prepared to miss her forever,” I confessed, sensing tears pricking my eyes.

“I guess I was prepared to do that too.”

Spencer didn’t look better than me. His eyes were as glassy as mine. His lips were tightly pressed like he was holding back.

Truth be told, both were holding back emotions.

That’s why when I asked him to help me to unravel, he was quickly in the same boat as me.

That night we fucked harder than we had been doing in the past five months.

We were angry; we felt betrayed, and this was the way we thought could help us to navigate those emotions.

I needed to lose control. I needed to stop thinking, so I gave him the reign of my body and, maybe, something else.

Spencer understood what I was looking for and didn’t waste time. He gave me what I craved.

Dark hickies and bite marks on my skin would prove that the next morning.

“Please, harder!” I begged, clasping his wrist as he put more pressure on my throat. Spencer’s kept his rough thrusts, grunting each time his hips snapped to mine.

“You want me to let you dumb, uh? So fucking needy,” he panted, his pace not faltering.

“Yes! Make me dumb! Use me!” I cried out, feeling the air leaving my lungs. The dizziness was welcoming as I allowed the tears to run free—a mix between the pleasure and the past hours’ pent-up emotions.

I didn’t need any other stimulation to trip over the edge for the third time that night. After a wild scream, I let myself go, clenching my walls and sending Spencer to his own end.

Collapsing on top of me, Spencer hid his face in the crook of my neck as we tried to catch our breath.

But my body started to shake, and sobs left my lips. That alerted Spencer, who immediately pulled out and leaned back to inspect my face.

His concerned hazel eyes met mine. I could see the panic in him.

“Did I hurt you? Was it too rough? I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have-” he trailed off. I shook my head, resting my palm on his cheek.

“No. No, Spencer. You did nothing wrong. It was amazing, actually. It’s me. It’s just- I don’t know what-” I couldn’t end the sentence because of the lump in my throat.

“Hey,” he mumbled, engulfing me in a tight embrace. It didn’t matter we both were naked and spent; I needed his solace, and he didn’t hesitate to supply it.

Kissing the top of my head and tracing delicate patterns on my back, he took his time to whisper sweet nothings until I calmed down.

It’s weird, but this was the first time I showed myself so vulnerable to him, and it scared the shit out of me.

We leaned on each other when Emily died, but this was different.

Our relationship was different now; even if I didn’t want to admit it, Spencer became an essential part of my life. As a friend. As a confidant. As the man who has seen beyond my defenses and knows me in the most intimate way.

When I regained some composure, Spencer put his boxers on and helped me to reach the bathroom. Then he went to the kitchen to grab me a glass of water and a snack. Once I was dressed in my pajamas and under the covers, he looked at me to ensure I was okay.

“Thank you,” I mumbled, sipping the water.

“You are welcome. Uh- well, I think I should go now? You need to sleep,” he said, hunching to grab his clothes scattered on the floor.

I couldn’t conceal my disappointment, although it was a reasonable thing to do. Our agreement worked like that: Don’t stay the night.

But I wasn’t ready for him to leave.

Maybe I didn’t want him to go ever again.

That last admission wasn’t clear to me at that moment, though.

“Spencer? Would you stay tonight, please?” I asked, my voice small as if I was begging for something forbidden. In some way, it was.

He halted his doing to look at me. I cleared my throat.

“I know it’s not what we agreed on, but I don’t feel I could stay alone now. I’m sorry if-” I stuttered.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to explain to me. If you want me to stay, I’ll stay,” Spencer offered.

“Thank you.”

Spencer joined me on the bed, wrapping us with the sheets and comforter and switching the lights off.

I fell asleep with my head on his shoulder and arm over his naked torso.

Waking up the following day, the first thing I noticed was the grip of a strong arm around my waist and a soft fan of breath on my shoulder. A warm sensation filled my senses.

Not wanting to wake him up, I slowly turned in bed to find Spencer asleep. He stirred a little but did not wake up. Soft snores escaped his lips. He looked so beautiful sleeping. By far the most attractive man I have ever met.

My stomach clenched as I analyzed the potential consequences of my thoughts.

What was this feeling? Of course, there was infinite gratitude for the best friend I could have found. But a friend who also became your sexual partner? Someone with whom you have been able to experiment, and is willing to please you, just as you would do anything for him to please him?

This was moving to another level.

I was falling in love with Spencer Reid.

Neither Spencer nor I mentioned the morning we woke up together in the days that followed. I assume it was just a one-time thing, and I thought Spencer considered it the same way.

As the cases kept coming, we had no chance to chat about that. So we let it slide.

But I couldn’t get out of my mind the idea there was something more. Was it just me imagining things?

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

Spencer’s POV.

It was the perfect arrangement until it wasn’t.

I must have known that it could happen. I’m not that experienced in that field.

I only kissed a few people in my life.

I had sex just a few times before her.

And non just a few months passed until I broke the rules. At least one of them: no mixed feelings.

We were friends, and we fucked.

That was all.

In theory.

The rule was clear: if we saw this could put in danger our friendship, sex had to end.

But this was more than that for me. And it had been that way for months, yet I didn’t dare to call it to quit.

Having her by my side is the best thing that happened to me. I didn’t know I could fall so deep for someone, but she made it easy.

After the long talks and hanging out a lot, it wasn’t difficult to notice our connection.

But that was a friendship means. Or that is what I thought until we had sex.

God, it was amazing. I didn’t feel like that with anyone before.

What did she do to me?

I thought I had it under control, but I lost the last ounce of self-defense the night he asked me to stay.

How couldn’t I? She was vulnerable and needed someone. A friend. Me.

Watching her in my arms sent me into a spiral of overthinking. I wanted this for the rest of my life, but I would never have the nerve to confess that to her. That would mean I’ll lose her forever.

She didn’t feel the same way I did. Why should I bother then?

Sure, we were attracted, but keeping it physical was the agreement. No other feelings should have been involved.

I screw it up. What do I do now?

It became worse when she started to act a bit cold around me. I mean, not the same friend affection we used to have daily.

God, I was losing her as a friend too, and I couldn’t let that happen.

Two options came to my mind: play it cool or finish the friend with benefits bullshit. I needed to decide something, but I delayed it. Like if things could resolve themselves magically.

She knew something was happening yet didn’t say anything. Instead, she tried to keep it casual.

“What are you doing?” I complained when one afternoon, she dragged me to an abandoned office.

“Hey, relax. I only want a moment alone with you, okay?”

“Somebody could see us!” I scolded. Honestly, it wasn’t an issue in the past five or six months, so why would it be now?

“Don’t be paranoid, Spencer. We are in our usual abandoned office. Nobody walks here. You know that” she reassured me, kissing my jaw, but I was still tense, with my hands to the sides. Hands that, in another time, would be pulling up her skirt to squeeze her delicious ass.

She wrapped her arms around my neck to kiss my lips hungrily. I couldn’t help but gasp, kissing her back and gripping her hips. I was almost lost in the feeling and about to give in until my senses returned.

I rapidly used the grip on her hips to pull her away.

“I think we should come back.”

She frowned and parted entirely from me. I could see the anger rushing in her.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” She spat.

Well, I couldn’t tell her truly what was wrong with me, so I tried to play ignorant.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re avoiding me.”

Her voice sounded annoyed and something else that I couldn’t decipher.

“I’m not.”

A lie, of course. Excellent, Spencer Reid.

“Yes, you are. We haven’t fuck in two weeks. You tell me what our statistics are. A week at most?”

I knew that: six days and twenty-one hours. I opted for a nonspecific answer, though.

“Sort of. I guess.”

“Why then? Don’t tell me it’s because of work or anything like that. You know we managed before.”

She was trapping me. Every remark she made was pushing me to tell her the truth. I wasn’t ready for her to know, though.

Maybe I will never be. I needed to escape from there.

“We should end this,” I blurted out.

She frowned again. “End what?”

“This arrangement. It’s not working.”

I saw her demeanor change. I couldn’t exactly pinpoint what it was, but my first guess? Hurt. That broke my heart.

“Why? You... You don’t want to be my friend anymore?” She asked. Her voice was small. Why could she think I didn’t want to be her friend anymore? Not in a million years. I would like to be more than that, but I knew it was impossible.

“No! No that! I’m talking about the benefits thing. I - I think we should end that,” I hastened to explain. I prayed she could agree with me without any question. Too much to ask?

She kept silent for a couple of seconds, contemplating her answer. I knew this would happen. I knew that doing this would mess up everything between us. And the people assume I’m a genius. Waste of genius I am.

“So it’s true you found someone else. You want to fuck someone else.”

‘No! I want only to fuck you!’ I wanted to scream, but instead, I repeated myself: ‘Calm down, Spencer. Calm down. Stay focused’.

“I’m trying to keep our friendship, that’s all.”

“So you can fuck someone else. I get it,” she insisted. Why was that so important? I mean, she could have any man in the world to feed that need. I’m not that special.

“It’s not - I mean, not that I - “ I tried to explain, but she cut me off, putting a hand over my shoulder.

“Spencer, it’s okay. I know. She is pretty and a smart girl. Not to mention she’s head over heels for you.”

Now I was confused. Who the hell was she talking about?

“What? You - she, who?”

“Alice. You are talking about Alice. I know.”

Alice? Our colleague Alice? Does she think I want to fuck Alice Brown?

“I’m not thinking-” I stuttered.

She sighed.

“Spencer. I’m so sorry for my outburst. We knew this would happen eventually. One of us would find someone and want to be in a relationship. You have the right to get that,” she said, shedding some tears. I was so confused that I couldn’t determine the real reason for her tears. Was it because she was happy for me? Or because she didn’t feel she deserved the same? Damn, why am I so incompetent at interpreting this kind of thing? Either way, she was giving me a friendly outing. Wasn’t that my initial purpose?

“Thanks,” I mumbled. (Y/N) gave me a tiny smile and kissed my cheek.

“She is lucky, you know? But if she hurt you, I’m going to kill her,” she sentenced before leaving the office.

I would like to say that after that conversation, I was more relieved. I would like to say that it was the best decision I have made in a long time. But I would be lying.

Yeah, we’re still friends, but things were weird between us, though. She avoided me more often, and our conversations were more superfluous than before.

It didn’t help that Alice was always around because when she saw Alice, she definitely stopped talking to me or left the room.

That’s where the jokes started too. Morgan jumped at every chance he got to suggest - in a not subtle manner - how interested Alice was in me. I didn’t think so, but JJ even ventured out once and asked me when I would do something about it.

Little did she know that Alice was not the woman my heart and desires gravitated around.

God, I missed (Y/N) in my arms. But I needed to be strong. Hopes weren’t an option in this case.

And it seems that peace of mind wasn’t an option either. When (Y/N) started flirting with other guys, I felt the blood boiling inside me.

I shouldn’t have felt jealous; I didn’t have any right, but I couldn’t help it. Knowing she could have some of those guys in her bed, the bed I used to be in for a solid six months, made me sick of my stomach.

I didn’t know that part of me—the possessive one. That part that yearned for her and was desperate.

Another local case closed, and Prentiss convinced us to go for drinks.

After Emily’s return, it was rough to settle for the idea of having her back, but she managed to coax out of us any resentment we could have, even with (Y/N) and me. We didn’t take pretty well Emily’s fake death. Not after grieving her for months. Of course, rationally, we understood her reasons, but it hurt. It hurt a lot.

But they say time helps, and they are right. At the end of the day, Emily was alive, and slowly we got used to that.

Garcia picked the club this time.

Only Hotch and Rossi were excused for not going.

Instantly Morgan pulled Garcia and JJ to the dance floor, leaving Emily, Alice, (Y/N), and me at the table, sipping our alcoholic drink of preference.

Sitting by my side, Alice laced her arm with mine, leaning her head over my shoulder.

“I’m so exhausted, Spence. This case was so draining!” Alice sighed. I returned a hum in response, more focused on how she clutched my arm. When I shifted my gaze to (Y/N), she quickly averted her eyes from me. In a matter of seconds, she stood and strolled to the dance floor, joining Morgan, Garcia, and JJ.

Emily narrowed her eyes as she realized something.

“Alice?” Prentiss asked. The girl looked at her with full attention. “Can I ask you something from the bar? I would go to bring it myself, but I don’t want to be abducted by Morgan.”

Convinced enough, Alice complied and headed to the bar.

“Okay, what the fuck is going on between you and (Y/N)? Or should I say between you and Alice?” Far from Alice’s eardrops, Emily asked immediately.

“Nothing.”

“Spencer, I’m not stupid. (Y/N)’s behavior with Alice around? Your eyes on her?”

Profilers. Not that I had been subtle about it anyway. I cleared my throat, Emily’s gaze on me the entire time.

“I - we - uh. We had sex.”

“With (Y/N)?”

“Yes,” I admitted. Prentiss didn’t look surprised. Of course, she wasn’t.

“And what’s the problem?”

I spit in thirty seconds what had happened between us in the past six months.

“That kind of agreement never works. But sure, you already know that.”

“Believe me. I know that” I sighed.

“Tell her.”

“What?! No! She’s my friend on top of everything. She doesn’t feel like I do. I can’t tell her.” I assured Emily, who didn’t seem too convinced.

“How do you know? I bet she’s jealous of Alice.”

“I don’t think so,” I mumbled, pointing to the dance floor. (Y/N) was grinding against a guy who seemed too enthusiastic about it.

“That means nothing,” Prentiss scoffed.

But for me, it did. (Y/N) was enjoying the night and that guy’s company. And I was stuck in the same shit I wanted not to. I needed to move on from her. Try, at least.

Alice came back with some drinks. Emily took hers and stood to talk to someone who greeted her from another table.

I sipped my beer as Alice smiled and scooted to my side.

“Well, it seems we are alone now,” she pointed.

“Technically, no. The team is scattered between the dance floor and the -” I tried to explain, but Alice’s giggle cut me off.

“You know what I mean, Spencer. In fact, you know what I have been trying to do in the past months,” she asserted, looking at me with a smirk on her face.

“Do I?”

“Yeah. Flirt with you. I want you, Spencer. And I know you want me too,” Alice said, brushing some hair I had over my face. I didn’t know how to respond to that, so I didn’t say anything, seeing how she moved closer and closer. I darted my gaze from her eyes to her lips, which was her cue to close the remaining gap between us, pressing her lips to mine. It was a foreign feeling, but I told myself, ‘why not?’ so I kissed her back.

I cupped her cheeks and cocked my head to deepen the kiss. Wrapping her arms around my neck, she pressed her body against mine. I swept my tongue over her lips, and she complied and opened her mouth. Our tongues were fighting for dominance.

But it was wrong. I was kissing Alice, and I was thinking in (Y/N). How different she kissed me, how I missed her touch. The way she plays with my hair on the nape of my neck. The sounds she makes when I touch her.

I ended the kiss because of the guilt for what I was doing and the lack of oxygen. We both were panting, but Alice was the one who had a grin plastered on her face.

“I’m sorry. I - I shouldn’t have done that,” I apologized. Alice looked at me with a frown.

“Why do you say that? That kiss was amazing.”

“Alice. I’m sorry. I can’t do this. I just can’t. You are such a beautiful and intelligent woman; any man would be lucky to have you.”

“But I want you to have me, Spencer. Why not? You are single; I am too. And I know we’re attracted to each other,” she reasoned.

“But I love someone else,” I blurted out. Alice sat straight in the booth, scoffing.

“It’s (Y/N), right?”

I nodded. I really didn’t care right then if the whole DC finds out.

“Yeah. It’s (Y/N).”

“Come on, Spencer. She is not the one for you. I know you have been friends for a while, but you? with her? In a romantic relationship? Not a chance.”

That judgment took me aback. Why was it so difficult to believe?

“Why do you say that?”

“You need a person who cares about you, for real. Not someone that is constantly bossing everyone around and ditching your feelings. I saw how she was treating you lately. The cold shoulder and everything. She doesn’t deserve you, Spencer.”

“(Y/N) is not like that. You’re mistaken,” I shook my head. Alice didn’t understand. It was all my fault.

“Well. If I am, then please tell me what you see right now. That’s the woman you love?” Alice mocked, pointing to a corner where (Y/N) was making out with the same guy from the dance floor.

They both were getting handsy, and my blood started to boil again.

I couldn’t stand it anymore. I barely heard what Alice said when I stood up and marched where (Y/N) was.

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Reader’s POV.

Kissing that bitch. Spencer was kissing that bitch. But why was I surprised? He was the one who told me that our agreement should end because he wanted to fuck Alice.

It shouldn’t hurt the way it did. Not when I had another human being roaming my body with his hands and whispering praises into my ear.

Fuck you, Spencer Reid.

I took my fuck-mate prospect’s hand and made him follow me to a more private corner. I needed to forget what I saw, and if that meant getting lost with another guy, so be it.

We were heavily making out when I heard someone clearing his throat. I recognized that sound immediately.

“I need to talk to you,” Spencer sternly said, tapping my shoulder.

I parted from the kiss, and my buddy didn’t seem happy about the interruption. I wasn’t either.

“Hey dude, we’re busy here,” Randall - I’m sure that was his name - told him.

“Yeah, get lost, Reid,” I snarled. It was dark, but I still could see the redness on Spencer’s face.

I was about to resume my kissing session with Ryan when Spencer cleared his throat again, speaking louder this time.

“I will not go. We need to talk (Y/N). Now.”

Did I hear correctly? Was Spencer Reid demanding something from me?

Raymond was pissed off right now and turned to face Spencer with anger in his eyes. I should have felt bad for Spencer, but he deserved it.

“You heard the lady. Get lost!” Reggie grunted, but Spencer didn’t move from his spot, preparing himself for the worst.

When I saw Rendell fisting his hand to land a punch on Spencer’s face, I felt like I should do something.

“Hey, hey, Richie. Calm down. I had fun with you, but my friend needs me now. I’m so sorry,” I said, quickly grabbing Spencer’s wrist and dragging him to the back exit.

“Call me! And it’s Robbie. My name is Robbie.”

The poor guy spoke out before I disappeared.

Once outside, I looked at Spencer deadly.

“Spencer, what the fuck was that?!” I yelled.

“That guy only wanted to take advantage of you,” he spat back.

“How the hell do you know that?” I asked him, my hands on my hips and my best-annoyed look.

“He was touching you!” Spencer cringed as if he were talking about the world’s more disgusting thing.

“Oh! Is that a problem?” I mocked. Spencer looked frustrated with my sarcasm.

“Yeah, it is! You were going home with a stranger!”

“Good observation, genius. Maybe it is what I wanted to do.”

“To fuck that guy?” Spencer asked in disbelief.

“Yes! Since I don’t have my fuck-buddy anymore. Does it make sense to you?”

Spencer opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out. I huffed.

“You did end our agreement, not me!” I reminded him.

“So that is what you miss. Your fuck-buddy,” Spencer pointed, his voice pained as if I said something hurtful.

“Yes. I mean - yes! Of course, I miss you,” I added, but Spencer shook his head.

“No, you miss the sex. Not me,” Spencer corrected.

“What the hell are you trying to say? Just say it, Spencer!”

An awkward silence fell between us. Spencer had his hands fisted as if he was holding something back. As if I had struck a chord in him.

“It can’t be that I was the only one who felt it! All this time was just sex for you?” He asked, and I saw the hurt in his eyes.

“No! That’s why we are friends too. You are not a stranger to me, Spencer. You could never be a stranger to me.” I tried to explain.

“And what if it was more than that? What if I broke the main rule of this whole thing?”

This time I was speechless. How could it be?

“You did not. You have feelings for Alice. That’s why you ended it.”

“No! And no! I don’t have feelings for Alice, and I didn’t end it because of her.”

“Oh please, you were devouring her in that booth minutes ago!” I scoffed.

“Yeah. I - I did kiss Alice, but because I wanted to forget how you were rubbing your body with another guy!” He argued.

“What? Why does that bother you so much?”

Spencer ran his hands through his hair. He was holding back something. When he locked eyes with me, I could see his struggle inside.

“I’m jealous, okay?” He yelled out, and I stepped back from the impetus in how he said it. “And not only because another guy was touching you. I’m jealous because I realize you can go on with your life without me. And not a day goes by that I don’t regret telling you we should have ended our arrangement without explaining the real reason.” Spencer said, averting his gaze from mine.

“And what is that real reason?” I asked in a whisper. I was afraid about what he would say.

Spencer returned his gaze to me.

“That I fell in love with you.”

I was taken aback. I didn’t expect Spencer would say that. I thought that I would be the one who would say it. My surprise seemed to deflate him.

“I know. I screwed up. We said this couldn’t jeopardize our friendship. And I really tried. I swear. But it got stronger every day, and I didn’t know what to do-” he rambled until I pressed my hand on his cheek. Spencer looked at me with doe eyes.

“If it makes you feel any better, I broke the rules too. And I’m not only talking about the night I asked you to stay with me. Although that night, I realized I had already loved you for a while,” I confessed, feeling my cheeks burning at the admission.

Spencer looked at me in utter surprise.

“You – you what?” I let out a nervous chuckle, like a teenager confessing to her crush.

“Yeah. I love you.”

Spencer didn’t seem to get the whole idea yet.

“But you were - I mean, that guy over there-”

“I was jealous too. And what could I do? You told me that we should end it. I thought you would fuck Alice and start a relationship with her,” I shrugged.

“God, no! In a million years. You have to believe me,” Spencer hastened to say.

“I don’t think that’s such a bad idea. I saw you excitedly kissing her a while ago,” I pointed matter-of-factly.

“You would think that even if I tell you I was thinking of you when I was doing it?”

“Liar.” I jeered, looking anywhere else but him. Spencer’s hand on my chin guided my gaze to him again.

“I’m not lying. Alice will never kiss me the way you do. She won’t give me goosebumps like you do when you touch me. Much less could she make me – you know – make me that hard, like when you kiss that special spot on my jaw,” he said, now stroking my cheek. I chuckled because I knew that sweet spot so well.

“I bet she couldn’t suck you off as I do,” I dared to say to see his reaction.

Spencer groaned, and I knew he was picturing the scene. Me on my knees, my lips around his shaft.

I was sure that my sultry voice filled him with pent-up desire. He missed me. He wanted me. He needed me the same way I missed him and wanted him.

“Kiss me,” I begged. I couldn’t take it anymore.

Spencer didn’t need to be told twice. He leaned and complied, with one hand on my cheek and the other on the back of my head; we crushed our lips together. I tried to ground myself, grabbing Spencer’s coat lapels, but the kiss was so fierce that I felt my knees weak. It was sloppy and full of passion.

I could feel Spencer’s erection pressing on my thigh. Maybe this was heating us faster than it should, but I didn’t care, and Spencer didn’t seem to care either.

When we broke the kiss, we were both panting. I could see Spencer’s eyes full of lust, which turned me on more than it should have. I was going to kiss him again, but he stopped me, holding me in place with his hands on my cheeks.

“Did you say she couldn’t suck me off as you do?” He asked me, and I fastly nodded. A smirk emerged on his face.

“Then get on your knees and show me,” Spencer demanded, running his fingers up and down my cheek and jaw.

Wait, what? Was he asked me to give him a blowjob in the back of a club? A public place?

It’s not that we haven’t talked about something like this before, but it was left as a fantasy that could happen in the future. Well, it seems that this moment could happen now. The idea made my panties absolutely soaked.

Without a second thought, my hands worked on Spencer’s belt.

I quickly unzipped his pants and freed his cock from his boxers. Before I got down and started my task, Spencer stopped me, took off his jacket, and hunched to put it on the ground, where I would put my knees.

Quite a gentleman, worried that my knees would not touch the dirty floor. Sure, a gentleman who was going to get a blowjob, but a gentleman nonetheless.

Once ready, he leaned against the wall as I pumped his cock with my hand. I could see the precum on the head, which I spread with my fingers.

Jeez, no matter how often I did this, the man was packed, and it was always a challenge to give him a blowjob.

A groan of satisfaction left his lips as I took him into my mouth.

“Fuck, (Y/N),” he muttered.

His hands immediately landed on my head, stroking my hair while I sucked on it, trying to take it whole. I hollowed my cheeks to take more and more of him as I bowed my head to increase his pleasure. And it worked. Spencer’s moans were all I needed to go on.

“Baby, you take it so well. You don´t know how pretty you look with my cock in your mouth,” he praised, coaxing a loud moan from me.

My eyes were fixed on him. Seeing him so lost in pleasure turned me on, throwing his head back, grabbing my hair to hold me in place, and pushing his hips up to fuck my mouth.

As he quickened his pace, I couldn’t help but gag when his cock hit the back of my throat.

“Come on, (Y/N). I know you can take it. This big cock is made for you,” he encouraged me. That way, it helped me relax my throat to take more of him.

I could feel him twitching, a sign that he was close. I loved knowing that I was the one who could push him to the limit, that I was the one who could give him so much pleasure. I wanted to do this for the rest of my life.

Spencer yanked on my hair to stop me as he was about to explode. Panting, he gazed at me adoringly as he helped me to my feet.

“I think we’ll leave this kind of ending for another time. Come here,” Spencer panted. I grinned, sweeping my lips with my tongue.

Spencer collided his lips with mine in another heatest kiss. He could taste himself in my mouth.

In the dark alley now was Spencer, who caged me against the wall. The cool bricks didn’t cool down the fire running through my body.

“Please, Spencer. I need you, baby,” I moaned on Spencer’s lips. He didn’t hesitate to act for his desires. His fingers toyed with the hem of my skirt, pulling it up enough to slip his hands under the fabric, caressing my thighs up and down but still not touching where I wanted him the most.

Feeling me squirming, he knew I was growing desperate for more.

“Are you greedy right now, sweetheart? Tell me what you want,” he taunted. That little did help me to stay still. His low voice and the teasing only made my arousal grow.

“You. I want you. Now. Please,” I mumbled. My eyes shut, feeling Spencer’s hands traveling upper my tights.

He took pity on me and reached my covered center with one hand. He started to circle my clit over my damped panties. A growl escaped my mouth.

“So wet, and I barely touched you,” he teased.

“Umm. It’s all for you. Keep touching me, please.”

I purred, feeling the pleasure of his thumb circling my bundle of nerves.

His lips sucked the skin on my neck, making me moan. My hands tugged the curls I had in my reach. Spencer grunted as his hand pulled the fabric to the side, letting his thumb work on my clit without any barrier. He added his middle finger, pushing it between my folds. A silent scream told him that it was what I wanted, quickly adding a second finger.

“Fuck! Spencer!” Still dizzy, I bucked my hips to feel his fingers deeper and deeper.

“You like that, uh?”

I couldn’t manage to let words out. But Spencer already knew the answer, speeding up his pace.

The poor light in the alley let Spencer see my face. Sure I looked like a mess, moaning and taking what he was giving to me.

“Spencer, baby. I’m so close,” I whimpered.

“I know. Do you want to cum in my fingers? Here, where can anyone see us?” He was openly teasing me, but honestly, he was just as worked up as me.

“Yes! Make me come. I want to give it to you because I’m yours—nobody else. Yours.”

That encouraged him to work faster, panting praises in my ear, circling my clit, and fingering me. That was enough to push me to the edge.

A loud moan and my walls clenching around his fingers told Spencer I was almost there.

“Let it go, baby. I’ve got you,” he whispered in my ear.

“Spencer! Fuck!” I whimpered as I came.

He helped me ride my orgasm, moving his fingers slowly and kissing my lips tenderly. Carefully, Spencer retrieved his fingers, brought them to his mouth, and sucked them clean. The sight made me moan, pulling Spencer by his lapel to kiss him again. Now I could taste myself in his mouth.

“Are you okay?” He asked after breaking the kiss.

“Yeah. But I need more,” I panted, still regulating my breathing. Although the poor light, I saw him smirk.

I wanted to feel him so bad. It didn’t matter that we were in a dark alley where anyone could pass and see us.

Spencer pumped his shaft a couple of times before aligning it at my entrance. He made eye contact with me to confirm if I was ready.

“Fuck me, please,” I whined.

It was the answer he needed.

“Fuck!” Spencer groaned when he slid the head of his cock between my folds, pushing inch by inch until he bottomed out.

“Oh my God. Yes!” I moaned. The feeling of him filling me up has always been so intense, no matter how many times he had done this.

“Baby, you’re so tight. I don’t know how I can fit in you,” he panted, stilling there and basking in the feeling of my warmth and wetness.

“You’re so big. I love how you stretch me. I love to feel everything of you,” I whimpered. Spencer let out a grunt trying to keep still and not move until I was ready.

“You - you can move now,” I whined, urging him to oblige.

Spencer pulled out almost entirely, only to slam into me right after.

“Shit!” I cried as Spencer set a pace. Ragged breaths erupted from both of us.

It was like being at home. I’ve never felt like this with anyone else.

“You like that? Uh?” Spencer grumbled, increasing the speed of his thrusts.

“Yes! You feel so - so good. I love the way - ah! - the way you fuck me,” I said.

“That’s why you were flirting with that asshole? You - you wanted me jealous?”

“Uh - yes! Yes! Yes! I wanted you so bad. I missed you so bad!”

Some tears pricked my eyes. A mix between the pleasure Spencer was giving to me and the realization that I missed him, and I couldn’t stand the thought of losing him.

People might say it’s strange that such a collected, shy, and socially awkward man could have such an animalistic side. For me, it is part of a whole. Spencer is all that and much more. People are multifaceted, and our social side often seems to be the opposite of our intimate side. Honestly, that’s not a problem for me. I love Spencer in all his different ways: the nerd, the fact-spouting young genius, the Dr. Who fan, the good friend, the one who’s by your side when you need him, the one willing to sacrifice for you, the man who is self-conscious when he receives compliments, the lover, the one who can mark your body with lovebites and who can make you see stars with his tongue or his fingers.

They are all the Spencer I love, my Spencer.

Spencer grabbed one of my legs and looped it around his waist. I held onto his biceps for stability as he speeded up his thrusts. Our moans were loud enough that it was a miracle no one had seen us yet.

Though perhaps I spoke too soon.

I opened my eyes, looked over Spencer’s shoulder, and saw someone looking at us. That made the adrenaline rush in a different direction than it was at that moment.

“Spencer. She’s - she’s watching us - she’s there. Fuck!” I managed to say between whimpers. Spencer didn’t seem bothered by my announcement, as his thrusts remained in the same delicious way.

“Who? Who’s watching us?” He asked, panting in my ear.

“Alice. Fuck! Should- should we stop?” I barely could form coherent words at this point, but I needed to warn him. We were in a public place, after all. The realization made my arousal grow somehow, so I only could close my eyes and feel Spencer’s cock stretching me most delightfully.

Almost forgetting that I told him what was happening around us, I swear I feel Spencer smirk on the crook of my neck.

“No. No. Let her watch if she wants. So she knows I’m yours. That you’re the only one - the only one I want to fuck in my entire life. Every time, everywhere. Let her see us. I - don’t - fucking - care,” Spencer emphasized each part with a deep thrust. I was a moaning mess, eyes shut and clinging to Spencer’s biceps for some balance as I lost myself in the pleasure.

The coil in my lower belly built it faster and faster.

“I love you so fucking much,” I panted, bucking up my hips to feel him deeper if that was possible at this point.

We both knew it was animalistic, lacking all rationalism. But we need it. We craved it in the most primal essence, where the words were not enough.

“I love you too. Look at me. I want to see your eyes when I’ll make you come. That’s it, my love—my good girl.”

“Repeat it, please,” I begged, arching my back.

“I love you, my good girl—only you,” he said, struggling to keep his eyes open.

“Yes! I’m yours. Spencer! God! So so good,” I babbled. I didn’t know it was something coherent, but who cares anyway?

“Are you close? Are you going to cum on my cock? Let her see how I fill you up?” He asked, a twisted smirk on him. Oh, fuck, how I love this man.

I didn’t know if Alice was still watching us, but the thought of her realizing that Spencer only wanted me and I only wanted him made me delirious.

“Yes! Please! Let me cum. I’m so close, baby.”

The feelings must be shown in some way, expressed, and offered in the form of actions. This time it was the possessiveness: the fact that reminded us that the fire was there because we belonged to each other.

At the top of our climax, mouths only served to moan our names, curses, and praises.

“Spencer! Fuck!” I yelled, shutting my eyes in pleasure.

My muscles tightened around Spencer when I came, pushing him to the edge. Spencer groaned as he emptied himself in me.

“Arg! So good, so good for me,” he muffled as his head nestled in the crook of my neck.

The moment and the place made the feeling more powerful. So powerful that we got lost in the dizziness of that post-coital bliss for a minute or two.

“God, I love you,” Spencer mumbled, kissing my neck. I giggled, feeling his stubble on my skin.

“I love you too. You’re more than my fuck-buddy, Spencer. And more than my friend too. You’re the man I love. I mean it,” I reassured him, tracing my fingers between his locks. He hummed contentedly. Parting from my neck, Spencer focused his eyes on mine.

“I know I should have said something before, but I was scared,” he confessed.

“Me too. But here we are. In a dark alley, in the back of a club, after fucking the shit out of us. I guess we are okay now.” We both giggled.

“Yeah, we’re more than okay,” he said, pecking my lips and hugging me tightly.

Well, maybe Emily Prentiss faking her death did bring something good to my life, after all.

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Spencer Reid’s Taglist: @dreatine @nomajdetective @jayyeahthatsme @rosalinasam2 @averyhotchner @tvandfanfic @lovelyxtom @princessmiaelicia @pastelbabygirl19 @reidsbookclub @alexxavicry @gspenc @spencerreidisbae123 @calmspencer @thebloomingeagle

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