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Listening to lana and thinking of my favourite fictional man…

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thank you 🥰

Just Ten Minutes

Summary: Spencer needs a cuddle after getting home from a rough case

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: Comfort

Word count: 588

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Spencer finally got home after a long jet ride. The case was grueling but successful. He dumps his satchel on the nearby chair. He spots you immediately on the couch, reading a book while wearing one of his old sweatshirts. You loved this sweatshirt the most because it was long enough to not wear pants. Spencer liked it for that reason too, but he was too tired to do anything beyond admiration. He smiled when you looked up at him. “Welcome back.” You say. His hand is on your shoulder and you rub his arm. He’s warm.

“Good to be back.” He glances down at the book you’re reading. “George R. R. Martin?”

“It was on your shelf, so I figured why not?”

“You mind taking a break?”

You look up at him and before he says anything else, he’s moving to the other side of the couch. He sits in the middle, putting your right leg in his lap. You put the book down and see. “Was it a rough case?”

Spencer nods, looking down at his hands.

“We can go to bed, so you’ll be more comfortable.”

Spencer shakes his head, pushing his shoes off by the heels and letting them thump on the floor. He crawls across your body and lays his head on your chest. The weight is pleasant, and you never miss an opportunity to play with his hair. So you put the book on the floor, and he doesn’t protest. George R. R. Martin has never been a favorite. You place it flat to bookmark where you left off. You settle into the couch arm. Spencer wraps his arms around you, occupying the open space between your back and the couch. You pull your legs up to encase him, wrapping him in warmth. He exhales. “You smell good.”

“Thank you.” You say. “Is it wrong to say I used your shower while you were gone?”

He shrugs. “No. Wish I was here for it.”

You scoff, pulling on a piece of hair as punishment, but he knows he’s not in trouble. Spencer looks up, his chin on your sternum, and pushes his lips out with his eyes half open. You push your head down as best you can to kiss him. It’s a light peck, but he accepts it happily. “You sure you don’t want to go to bed?” You rub his back with your other hand.

He rests his head on your chest again. “Can we just stay here a little?" He sounded quiet, weak. You didn’t want to ask about the case but you know it hit closer to home than he liked. That’s when he gets like this, so you don’t ask further. “I won’t fall asleep, I promise.”

“You can if you want to.” You say, brushing strands of hair from his face. “I don’t mind.”

“No, last time I got a terrible crick in my neck. Just ten minutes, okay?” You huff some air out of your nose and kiss his scalp. “You might end up hurting yourself first if you keep doing that.”

“You want me to stop?”

“Absolutely not.” He shuffles up a little to make it easier to reach. You tighten your legs around him, only a little, but enough to leave zero room between your bodies. Spencer burrows further into his favorite spot.

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Is it socially acceptable to call this 44 yr old man cutie patootie? it is the correct label i fear

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maybe its my inflamed ego but i think if i was a criminal minds character i could make spencer reid fall in love with me.

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Aaron Hotchner + his fbi vest in Hit and Run (7x23 and 7x24)

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reid gets the reader to open up about their mental health :)

Opened Wounds

Summary: Reader opens up to Spencer about her mental health after a triggering case.

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: hurt/comfort

Content warnings: Mentions of PTSD and cults

Word count: 1.3k

A/N: I know in my guidelines I said I will not romanticize mental illness and I stand by that. Which is why this is not really as much of a romance-centered fic. Spencer and Reader are in a relationship, but this is more about being comfortable in opening up in that relationship.

Thank you for submitting 🩵

The hum of the jet was the only sound as the team settled into their seats. Exhaustion was the mutual feeling throughout the cabin, and you were no exception.

The only difference between your flight to the scene and going home is that you chose a seat in the corner instead of near J.J. like normal. No one paid mind to it, it seemed. Perhaps they all knew and saw you needed space. Maybe Hotch had some sort of debrief with the team, discussing your file before bringing you on.

You thought all of that at the moment, but it isn’t until you’re halfway home and flying over Louisville, Kentucky that you accidentally lock eyes with Spencer. He collects the pile of snacks as he wins yet another game of poker against Morgan and Prentiss. You saw him cheat, and he saw you pull your lips into a (hopefully) convincing half-smile. The jet’s humming is all you can hear as he shuffles the deck, and Morgan snatches it from him to shuffle instead.

He could still cheat the next round, but you couldn’t escape the feeling that flickered across you the moment you were in his line of sight; his knowing stare. He’s been trying to get you to talk since you landed in Nebraska. It wasn’t appropriate for you to share a room, so you could avoid him at night as well. But you share a bed with him when you’re both home, and this isn’t the first time you’ve acted this way because of a case. A very specific case.

You return to the window, watching the plains and silos as they disappear in the haze of gray clouds that come and go. They would remind you of home. If your thoughts weren’t equivalent to TV static, they’d probably be the last things you’d want to look at. All you do is stare.

Then, there’s a pressure on your shoulder. You jerk at the touch, clutching your dad’s necklace on instinct. Even after turning your head to see it’s Spencer, your fist lays flat on your chest as you try steadying your breaths. “Jesus Christ!” You say, hushed.

“Sorry, sorry!” He keeps his voice quiet as well, his big eyes somehow growing. “I just… wanted to see you. So.” He gives a little wave as he smiles. “Hi.”

The team has been aware of your relationship for two months now. Still, speaking so closely, and whispering no less, feels like there’s still a secret. You hate secrets. Especially since you can see Morgan peeking over the seats to spot potential gossip. It doesn’t help that he was the first one who started asking about you two, and you spent so much time together. It was an anxious sight before, but now you can’t help questioning if it’s because of your past, the newspaper headlines with your and your little brothers’ faces among the few survivors from that burned barn.

Spencer points to the seat in front of you. “Mind if I sit?”

It’s hard to say no, even though you want to. Pushing away and avoiding hard topics is something you’ve learned to be good at. It’s why you don’t talk to your brothers anymore. It was for the best… for a long time. Yet that face of his. You still glance over at the rest of the team as you wonder how much of a crowd you’re drawing in. “Spencer, I—”

“Don’t worry about them. They won’t bother you.”

So they must know.

Spencer waits for your nod (you give it) before he scooches in for a seat. He settles in with a sigh and lets the tip of his sneaker brush against your tights. When you look up at him, pieces of hair fall in front of his face. He brushes them back as he smiles softly, yet knowing more than they do. “What’s on your mind?”

You scoff, rolling your eyes. “You sound like my therapist.”

“Is that a good or a bad thing right now?”

Instead of an answer, you shrug, taking in breaths of clean air and keeping the looming anxiety away. You know Spencer, though (unfortunate at the moment), so you know that won’t cut it.

And he does too, which is why he reaches across to rest a palm on your knee. “I’m not your mother, okay? You can trust me.”

You push your mother further back in your head. “I’m just… having a bad day.”

“After another case involving a cult.”

“Yeah.”

“You know if you talk to Hotch, he’d let you sit—”

“I don’t want to sit these out,” you tell him. It’s the surest thing you’ve said all week. “It doesn’t change the number of people who need our help.”

“It doesn’t help your PTSD either, Y/N. It’s not healthy.”

Your face scrunches at the acronym, and Spencer sounds even more like your therapist. Because he’s right and you hate it. Throwing yourself into your work has led to burnout and breakdowns you hope the team never witnesses. You hope Spencer never has to see you like that. The tears blur your vision, and the man across from you becoming as indistinguishable as watered down ink. “I just hate that it still gets to me,” you say. “I thought I was stronger than this.”

Spencer’s hand squeezes your knee gently. “You are strong. But strength doesn’t mean being unable to feel. It’s okay to still feel those things like they were yesterday, especially after what you survived.”

You look away, staring out the window again as if the clouds could somehow absorb all of this for you. “It just… it all comes rushing back, and it’s impossible to escape it. No matter how hard I try, I’m right back in Nebraska. I can smell the smoke, feel the heat. I hear their voices and prayers. It’s like I’m trapped all over again.”

The confession hangs between you two. They slip out like a faucet because of one hand on your knee topped with genuine concern. Pathetic, you thought to yourself. It doesn’t help that the vulnerability leaves a lightness on your chest, like you’ve cut yourself open on an autopsy table for not just him, but for everyone to look.

No one looks around. They either don’t overhear you or pretend they don’t. There’s no in between. Spencer, however, shifts in his seat, leaning closer. “You’re not trapped, Y/N. Not anymore. You’re here, with me, with us. Hey, look at me.”

You look back up.

“We’re not going anywhere.”

You swallow hard, the tears now spilling over as you look at him. “What if I never get past this? What if I can’t do my job anymore?”

His brows slanted as he looks at you, and he leans across to brush a tear from your cheek with his thumb. “You’re not the first person in the BAU with such a past. Hotch knew that and he still hired you. We’ll get through it together, you and me first. And if you need to take a break, or sit out a case, the team will be there for you. It doesn’t make you weak.”

You nod, though the fear still lingers. The idea of security (of any kind) is hard to settle into when you haven’t had it in so long. You pick at your nails, but with one hand, Spencer encourages you to stop. And you let out a shaky sigh. “I’ll… talk to Hotch.”

“Good.”

“Just to touch base.”

“Right. Of course.”

You lean into his touch, lacing your fingers with his as you try to form a genuine smile. “Thank you,” you said.

Spencer stands slightly, in an ungraceful crouch to kiss your cheek.

The hum of the jet continues, the world outside still distant and gray. But in this moment, sitting with Spencer in the quiet corner of the plane, you still feel exposed, but less alone. And for now, that’s enough.

Thank you all for your patience and thanks for enduring my absence. I'm not going anywhere, I've just been active in other fandoms/cannot for the life of me find inspiration. My fic uploads will probably be quite infrequent, but I'll still upload when I can. Just fyi 😉

Also if you've sent in a request, I probably still have it and have written a bit for it. It's just not done because, again, my inspiration well is ✨very dry✨ I appreciate everyone for being patient with me and still enjoying my fics all the same 🩵

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Criminal Minds 12.22 | Red Light

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i have a special place in my heart just for them

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13.14

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Series 10 Episode 18: Rock Creek Park

This is it. This is the scene that inspired this blog.

Also, Reid flirts with coffee quotes and invites in Russian. Canon.

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13.7

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"I pulled myself out of the gutter, all the way to the FBI. I did that."

Season 2 Episode 12

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"He's behind me right now, isn't he?" JENNIFER 'JJ' JAREAU and SPENCER REID in CRIMINAL MINDS 12x03 | 'Taboo'

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SPENCER REID and DEREK MORGAN

CRIMINAL MINDS (2005 — PRESENT)

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Spencer Reid + kissing