hotchnerbabygirl

[hotchnerbabygirl]

Hey there <3 someone just take my phone away I gotta stop adding photos of Spencer on my phone

[hotchnerbabygirl]

This is beautiful… love it 🥰 <3 Kris ..

Good to see my friend post again .

Retirement | [A.H]

Pairing: Retired!Aaron Hotchner x Fem!reader | WC: 1.1k | CW: Nothing but cuteness

A/N: Don't worry, Hotch is not an old man he's like late 50's early 60's in this based on Jack being in college ;)

The porch was bathed in the golden light from the afternoon sun, casting long shadows across the wooden planks. The gentle creak of the rocking chair kept rhythm with the distant hum of cicadas, a sound that had become so familiar it felt like part of the air itself.

A soft breeze carried the scent of summer—freshly cut grass, the lingering sweetness of honeysuckle climbing the trellis, and the faint, smoky remnants of the firewood stacked near the house.

You leaned against Hotch’s chest, his arms loosely draped around your waist, fingers idly tracing patterns on your bare legs. The warmth of him seeped into you. You let out a content sigh, snuggling further into his chest.

It had been six months since he left the BAU. Six months of long walks through the countryside, of mornings spent in bed with no reason to rush, of rediscovering a man who had spent years sacrificing himself for the safety of others.

At first, the transition had been difficult. Aaron had been hesitant, unsure of who he was outside of the job, as though his identity had been stitched together by the cases, the late nights, the endless chase of justice.

He had been restless, waking up at odd hours as though his body still expected the call of duty. Some nights, you had found him on the porch, staring into the darkness, lost in thought. And other's you had found him sitting in the kitchen, his phone open on either JJ or Emily's contact in his phone, debating whether he should check in and see how everything was going without him.

But in this almost sanctuary you had built together, he had begun to unravel—layer by layer, breath by breath. The sharp edges of stress had softened, the lines around his mouth no longer weighed down by exhaustion. He still carried the past with him, no doubt he'd always have it with him, but it no longer defined him.

Your legs stretched over his lap, the warmth of his hands resting against your skin. His thumb brushed absentmindedly over your knee, and you smiled, closing your eyes as the wind tousled your hair.

“You’re quiet,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, edged with that lingering gravel that had always made your stomach flip.

You hummed in response. “Just thinking.”

“About?”

You tilted your head back, meeting his eyes. The sunlight hit them just right, turning the brown into something lighter, warmer. “How much I love you.”

His lips twitched, a ghost of a smile appearing as he squeezed your thigh. “You always get sentimental when we sit out here.”

“Can you blame me?” you teased, running your fingers through the graying strands at his temple. “Look at this. It’s peaceful. I never thought we’d have something like this.”

He exhaled, long and slow. “Neither did I.”

There was something about the way he said it, the weight behind the words, that made your chest tighten. You reached for his hand, lacing your fingers together. “Are you happy, Aaron?”

His thumb brushed over your knuckles, his gaze soft but intent. “More than I ever thought possible.”

You kissed his shoulder, letting the moment stretch, settling into the quiet contentment that came so easily now.

You tilted your head slightly against him, voice soft as you asked, "How's Jack?"

Aaron exhaled, a small, fond smile pulling at his lips as he continued tracing patterns against your skin. "I talked to him yesterday," he said, his voice warm with pride. "He sounds happy. Settling into college well, making friends. He even mentioned joining an intramural soccer team."

Your smile widened at that. "That’s wonderful. He always did love playing." You recalled the games Aaron had invited you to when Jack was only a young boy

Hotch nodded, the tension he once carried about Jack leaving for college no longer evident in his expression. "He said his classes are challenging but interesting. And he likes his professors."

You ran your fingers gently along his arm, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat under your cheek. "He’s thriving, then. Just like you wanted."

Aaron let out a quiet chuckle. "Just like we wanted. He’s got a good head on his shoulders. I think Haley would be proud."

You squeezed his hand, understanding the weight of his words. "She would be. You’ve raised a good man, Aaron."

His thumb brushed over your knuckles, silent gratitude passing between you. You let the moment settle between you, filled with warmth and love.

A rustling sound caught your attention, and when you glanced to the side, a small smile pulled at your lips. “Aaron,” you whispered, nudging him lightly. “Look.”

He followed your gaze, and there, across the wooden railing of the porch, a handful of ladybugs had gathered, their tiny, spotted bodies crawling along the grain of the wood. One took flight, landing on your outstretched hand.

Hotch chuckled. “Looks like you’re a favorite today.”

You watched the little insect as it wandered across your palm. “You know, my grandmother used to say ladybugs were good luck.”

“Did she?” He tilted his head, watching as another landed near his wrist. “Mmhm.” You met his eyes, a teasing glint in yours. “I think it’s a sign.” He arched a brow. “Of what?”

“That this—” you gestured around you, at the house, the land, the life you had built together— “was always meant to be.”

His expression softened. He brought your joined hands to his lips, pressing a kiss against your fingers. “I don’t need a sign to know that.”

A comfortable silence settled between you, the only sounds the distant chirping of birds, the whisper of leaves rustling in the breeze, and the steady rise and fall of Aaron’s breath. He had a way of making the world feel smaller, simpler—of making you feel like the only thing that mattered.

“Jack texted earlier by the way,” he murmured after a moment, remembering something he had forgotten to tell you when you asked about him. “Said he wants to come up next weekend.”

Your heart warmed at the mention of a visit. “That sounds perfect. Maybe we can take him fishing.”

Hotch’s lips quirked. “You still think you can out-fish me?”

You grinned. “Oh, I don’t think—I know.”

He chuckled, the deep sound reverberating through his chest. “We’ll see about that.”

As the sun dipped lower in the sky, painting the horizon in hues of orange and pink, you leaned back against him, letting the moment settle deep into your bones.

The world felt softer here, free of the chaos and darkness that had once consumed so much of your lives.

[hotchnerbabygirl]

Aaron Hotchner fics

Hurt/angts/comfort

Masterlist

The time Hotch takes you home

⤷ ─────. In which Aaron ends up taking you home due to you not feeling well while you all were at the bar he notices how pale you’ve gotten he gently takes you outside to get fresh air. Reader gets sick from the salad she ate from lunch .

[hotchnerbabygirl]

The Time Hotch Took you Home. Aaron Hotchner

⤷ ─────. In which Aaron ends up taking you home due to you not feeling well while you all were at the bar he notices how pale you’ve gotten he gently takes you outside to get fresh air. Reader gets sick from the salad she ate from lunch .

Aaron being sweet ..

If you enjoy this could you consider re blogging this you guys keep me motivated I loved writing this

Fem!reader X Aaron Hotchner X. Angst/Hurt/comfort Emotional tension, comfort, sensitive mutual pining no use of your name 2.3K Author notes : I enjoyed writing this I hope you enjoy reading this



The Time Hotch Took you Home. You had been sitting with JJ at the bar. You’d told her you weren’t feeling well, that you were nauseous. You kept glancing at Hotch and Rossi; they were in the middle of a conversation.

"Let me get Hotch to take you home," JJ said.

"Do you have to?" you asked, feeling a sense of dread settle in.

"Yes, I’ve been drinking," she replied, offering a sympathetic smile.

JJ went up to Hotch to let him know you weren’t feeling well and that you wanted to go home. He nodded and glanced at you, noticing how pale your face had become. He patted Rossi on the back.

“I’m going to offer her a ride home,” Hotch told Rossi.

Hotch approached you, his gaze softening as he asked, "You feeling okay?"

"No, not really," you replied.

"Let’s go get some fresh air," he said gently. He helped you off the barstool, his arm going around your waist as he guided you out.

As you stepped into the cool breeze, it seemed to make things worse. You got sick, and Hotch held your hair back as you struggled.

"I'm not sure what's wrong with me," you said, your voice shaky.

"Have you eaten today?" Hotch asked, his tone steady and concerned.

"A salad at lunch," you replied.

"That's it?" he asked, glancing at you.

You met his eyes, feeling another wave coming on. Hotch quickly pulled out his phone, calling JJ.

"Bring some water and a cold rag or wet cloth," he instructed.

JJ brought Hotch a bottle of water and a cold, wet cloth.

"You okay?" she asked, her concern evident.

"I'm a little better, thank you, JJ. I think it must’ve been the salad I had at lunch today," you replied.

"Feel better," JJ said with a reassuring smile.

You nodded. "Thanks."

You started to apologize, “I’m sorry for ruining your night.”but he stopped you. "No," he said firmly. "You didn’t ruin anything, I promise.”

He helped you wipe your face, the cloth feeling soothing against your skin.

You took a drink of the water, the cool liquid feeling refreshing as it eased the dryness in your throat.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” you asked.

Hotch hesitated for a moment, then gently changed the subject. “You ready to go home?” he asked, avoiding your question.

He opened the passenger side of the SUV. You glanced at him, part of you wanting to give him a hug but unsure how he would react.

"Everything okay?" he asked.

As soon as he asked, you turned to face him and gave him a hug. He didn’t push you away; instead, he simply let you in. The embrace felt comforting—his body solid and steady, offering a quiet reassurance that made you feel safe, even if only for a moment.

You got in and buckled your seatbelt. He shut the door behind you. You took another drink of your water, still processing the fact that you had actually done it—hugged your boss, hugged Aaron.

He got into the driver’s seat and put his seatbelt on.

"Penny for your thoughts?" you asked.

"I didn’t mean to hug you," you quickly apologized. "I’m sorry, sir, I—"

"Stop apologizing," he interrupted, his voice calm but firm.

You nodded, glancing out the window. The tension hung in the air, unspoken, as he started the engine.

"Don’t," he added, his tone quieter now, almost like a warning.

Look, I know I apologize a lot," you said, turning to face him.

"That you do," he replied, his voice steady. "Every chance you get."

"Sorry," you muttered.

"See?" he said, a slight hint of amusement in his tone.

"You’re intimidating, sir," you said, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

"No," Hotch he replied, his voice soft but firm, trying to stay focused on the road.

"It's right down here on the left," you said, your tone a little quieter.

"I know," he said, his gaze fixed ahead.

"Right," you murmured, almost to yourself. "You’ve taken me home before."

"Please, tell me something," you said softly. "I just want to know. Please."

The SUV stopped in front of your apartment. You looked down at your hands, your heart racing.

"Do you feel something for me, Aaron?"

You immediately regretted the words, hoping you hadn't just asked your boss if he had feelings for you. You wished this was just a dream—or maybe a nightmare. You tried to pinch yourself to see if you were asleep, but no, you were wide awake.

Hotch didn’t answer. Instead, he got out of his side, came around, and opened the door for you.

"Let’s get inside," he said, his voice low and unreadable.

"Aaron, please answer me," you urged, your voice barely above a whisper, the tension thick in the air.

You both walked up to your door, and you unlocked it. You invited him inside, and he stepped in.

"You think I’m nice?" he asked, stepping toward you as you shut the door.

"I do, sir," you said, then quickly added, "Sorry—"

"There you go with that 'sorry' again," he said, his voice a bit strained as he cleared his throat.

You took a breath, speaking softly. "I’m not sure what to say right now. I don’t know how to approach you."

He was so close, you could barely breathe, the air between you both thick with tension.

"Aaron, please," you whispered, your voice trembling. "I need to brush my teeth. I just got sick."

He stepped back, his gaze softening slightly, though still unreadable. "Go ahead," he said, his tone quiet but firm. "Take your time."

You went to your bathroom, splashing water on your face before you started brushing your teeth. Hotch stepped in, his presence filling the small space.

"You asked if I had feelings for you, or if I felt something for you," he said, his voice low and steady.

You glanced at him in the mirror, still brushing your teeth. "I think I do," he added, his words lingering in the air.

You spat out the toothpaste, rinsed your mouth, then used mouthwash, trying to clear the knot in your throat. As you spit it out, you stood there, not knowing what to say next, the tension between you both thickening with every passing second….

He steps closer.

"Aaron, please…"

"Please, what?" he asks, his voice low.

"I can’t think," you say softly, feeling the weight of the moment.

"Well, this is the first time tonight," he responds, his eyes steady on yours. He holds out his hand.

You take it, and he gently leads you to the living room, guiding you to the couch. "Let’s sit," he says, his tone quieter now.

"How are you feeling?" he asks, his voice softer. "Can I get you anything? Crackers? Ginger ale?"

"I’ll take both," you said.

"I know where they are," he added, his voice steady.

You smiled, feeling a bit of warmth in the moment. He returned with a small package of crackers and a small bottle of ginger ale.

"Here," he said, handing them to you.

You set them on the table and patted the spot on the couch beside you, your hand inviting him to sit.

"Stay, please," you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

"I really shouldn’t," he says softly.

"Please, Aaron," you plead, pulling him in. "Just for a little bit, please?"

"Fine," he says, his voice quiet but yielding.

He gives in, and you feel a sense of relief as you settle into his arms, holding onto him as if your life depended on it. Before you know it, your head finds its way into his lap,

"How could I not have feelings for you?" he whispers, his voice barely audible as your head rests in his lap.

"How can I not think about moments like this with you?" he continues, gently pushing a strand of hair behind your ear.

You whisper softly, "I really care about you a lot."

He carefully lifts your head from his lap, his eyes soft as he looks down at you. "I know," he says quietly. "I can see it."

[hotchnerbabygirl]

O my goodness… I would love to have my head on his lap he can play with my hair as I fall asleep 😴💕��

I’m with you guys …

Oof I'm gonna go full degenerate rn but like 🫣🫣🫣🫣🫣🫣 I'm thinking abt Aaron's bulge so much rn like just wanting to nuzzle against it and hold it and look up at him like 🥺 cuz you just love it so much. And Aaron is genuinely so surprised cuz he's never been with anyone who was full on obsessed like this before. Like, you don't even need to take him out of his underwear, you're just kissing and rubbing your cheek against that big bulge that's only growing ever harder under your touch.

KWJFEJFJSJ I just 🫣🫣🫣🫣🫣 listen hear me out abt this okay bulges are hot as fuck and thinking abt his is even better.

[hotchnerbabygirl]

Welcome to my blog

• were to start? My name is Kristin … Kris for short . I’m over 25 I have a full time job I live in the U.S she/her I’m shy it takes me time to write I’m Reids and Hotchs babygirl

• my blog is safe place for all .. 18 + only MDNI

• I fell in love with fictional characters — they Are Dr Spencer Reid , and SSA. Aaron Hotchner , I love criminal minds I started this blog in August 2024 I’m an enthusiast for Hotchner in Reid .

• I’m still learning to write I love writing I do it when I can

• please be kind and respectful on my blog please .

• I love to be mutuals if you love criminal minds love to read write talk about Hotch Reid let’s be friends

• I’m not sure what exactly else to put , I love music to read write fan fiction I write for Spencer an hotch mostly.



[hotchnerbabygirl]

Sometimes I feel like I’m Graica

hotchreidgirl1 Navigation!!

Name is Kristin

About me

Welcome to my blog found my theme .. finally…

• Pronouns She/her , I’m over twenty five rest is down below.

Masterlist S.R

The proposal Spencer Reid

Masterlist A.H

The time Hotch took you home

[hotchnerbabygirl]

Masterlist

Spencer Reid ❤️‍🔥 💕🫶🏻💍 slow burn/confirt/hurt/anxiety

Fiancé,Spencer Reid x Fiancé fem!reader none BAU reader

Hold onto this for me

In which Spencer has imagined proposing to you for a long time. When he finally does, the moment is cut short by a call from the BAU. Now, with his mind stuck on you and the question left unanswered, he struggles to focus on anything but the future he wants—with you

۶ৎ She said yes Spencer Reid ۶ৎ

⤷ ─────. In which The moment “Spencer.” gets back to you, he wasn’t going to let anything—not work, not fear, not uncertainty—stand in the way of his future with you.

[hotchnerbabygirl]

۶ৎ She said yes Spencer Reid

Hold onto This for me .

⤷ ─────In which The moment “Spencer.” gets back to you, he wasn’t going to let anything—not work, not fear, not uncertainty—stand in the way of his future with you.

The ring took forever to find on Pinterest but it’s so pretty in what I imagine for elegant look . 

I hope you enjoyed this as much as the last one please consider re blogging in liking your motivation keeps me going . 

Fiancé!Spencer Reid x fem!reader (fiancé) 1.5K x cute comfort overwhelmed moments anxiety fluff x Author notes I had fun writing this one I enjoyed writing it hope you like reading it

Flashback

Some girls may adore diamonds, but Spencer knew you preferred pearls. Choosing the perfect ring wasn't easy for him.

He visited a few different stores, searching for something that would suit you—a ring that reflected your personality,’ elegant, sweet, loving, and caring.

He thought about how your face would light up when he asked you to be his, how overjoyed he would be to call you his wife. It was about finding something as beautiful as you were.

Then he found it. It was at the last store he visited. He pointed it out in a glass display case, surrounded by a few other rings.

He told the jeweler that was the one he wanted. Spencer could already picture how your face would light up when he proposed. He could see that ring on your tiny hand. Your hands were smaller than his, but to him, they were perfect.

Now ⤷ ───── "Your" POV.

You couldn’t believe that just over an hour ago, you saw Spence pull out the velvet box from his cardigan pocket. Inside it was the ring, resting in the palm of your hand, your heart racing. You wanted to say yes, but he left before hearing your answer.

The ring was beautiful, sitting in the palm of your hand. You couldn’t believe Spencer had proposed to you. You had wanted him to for a while, and you had always imagined it in your head—his mom would be there, your mom, your twin brother and sister, and their families.

He would be down on one knee, asking for your hand. Tonight, though, tonight was just as perfect—the two of you alone, before Hotch called him in for another case.

Your phone rang, breaking through the whirlwind of your thoughts. Reaching for it, you saw it was Hotch. Wait, what's going on? You answered quickly, your heart racing.

"Hotch, is everything okay?" you asked, trying to steady your voice.

"I... I can't explain right now," Hotch said, his tone firm but not without concern. "Just come down to the BAU. Please."

"Hotch, please, tell me everything is okay," you pleaded, your pulse quickening. But before you could say more, the line went dead. He’d hung up.

Hotch had known about Spencer's proposal and that he hadn’t gotten his answer. So, with his usual practicality, Hotch thought it would be best if you came down to the BAU headquarters to give Spencer your answer—whatever that answer may be.

You slid the ring onto your left hand, your fingers trembling as you grabbed your jacket, keys, and purse. Panic was starting to creep in. What if I lose him? No.

You couldn’t think like that. He’s fine, he’s gotta be. It’s Spencer, you reminded yourself, trying to steady your breathing.

As you rushed out the door, your mind raced, a knot forming in your stomach. I can't lose him… I can’t lose him now.

You slid into the driver’s side of the SUV, quickly buckling up. You adjusted your seat, trying to make yourself comfortable. Being short definitely didn’t have its advantages when it came to driving, but you couldn’t focus on that right now. Your mind was elsewhere, racing with thoughts of Spencer, and you had to get to him.

You started the engine and headed down the two streets from yours and Spencer’s shared apartment. Your hands gripped the steering wheel tightly as your mind raced, each moment feeling heavier than the last.

When you finally came to a stop and turned into the parking lot of the BAU headquarters, your heart was pounding. You took a deep breath before stepping out of the SUV, trying to steady yourself.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket as you walked into the building, startling you for a moment. You quickly pulled it out,

seeing a message from Garcia.’

"Lover boy proposed to you? And left without getting the answer? So, what are you gonna say?"

The words hit you like a wave, and for a second, you froze in place. You knew Garcia’s playful tone, but the weight of her message only deepened the anxiety already churning inside you.

You walked into the building, your nerves flaring with each step. The officer at the front desk gave you a warm smile when you showed your visitor’s pass. "You’re here to see Dr. Spencer Reid, right?" he asked, already knowing the answer. It felt surreal, but you nodded, showing him your visitors pass , your heart both racing and aching at the thought of him.

You walked into the elevator, your hands trembling as you pressed the button for Level 6. Your heart raced. I just need to know he’s okay. Once I know he’s alright, I’ll say yes, you thought to yourself, trying to calm your nerves. The elevator felt like it was moving slower than usual, and every second felt like a lifetime.

When the doors finally opened, you stepped out into the bullpen. The BAU team was gathered around Spencer, and his eyes immediately found yours. As soon as you walked in, his gaze locked onto you, never leaving.

"Spence, you’re okay?" You said, your voice shaky as you looked at him, trying to make sense of everything.

You stepped into the bullpen, your eyes immediately finding Hotch. "Hotch called me," you explained, your heart still racing. "He asked me to come down to the BAU…

Spencer stepped toward you, his expression full of regret. "I should’ve waited," he said, his voice thick with frustration. "I should’ve stayed to hear your answer. It’s been driving me crazy." His eyes were filled with a mixture of guilt and longing, the weight of his words hanging in the air.

You could see it in his face—he wasn’t just worried about the proposal. He was worried about you and the uncertainty that had built between you both in the last hour. His vulnerability was something he rarely showed, and it only made your heart ache.

He pulled you in and wrapped his arms around your waist, holding you close. "Spence," you murmured, feeling a little bashful under his gaze. "They’re,” watching me, aren't they?”

He smiled softly, his eyes warm with affection. "Are you gonna leave lover boy hanging?" Derek chimed in from across the room, his teasing tone light, but you could feel the warmth in his words.

You giggled softly, a sound Spencer adored. He couldn’t help but smile even wider, his heart swelling at the sound of your laughter. It was one of the little things that meant the world to him. You looked up at him shyly, but his gaze was soft, full of love and patience.

You slowly showed Spencer your hand, the ring now resting delicately on your finger—the same ring he had proposed with. The weight of the moment hit you, and your heart swelled.

"Does this mean it's a yes?" Garcia chimed in from behind, her voice full of excitement and a hint of teasing.

You smiled, your chest tightening with joy and relief. "Yes," you replied, your voice soft but steady. "I will marry you, Dr. Spencer Reid."

Spencer’s face lit up with pure happiness, and before you could even take another breath, he swept you into his arms. He spun you around, your laughter echoing through the room, before gently dropping you to his waist, holding you tight. Without another word, he kissed you, his lips pressing against yours with all the passion, love, and relief that had built up between the two of you.

I may do a part three .. as a request I did part two I hope it lives up to your expectations.

[hotchnerbabygirl]

Working on part two now .:. Oh and I love it so far just saying and the outline look of its elegant new layout to my writing hope you guys will enjoy this one there’s flashback moments to Spencer picking out the ring he wanted to give to you .. it’s so cute ehhh

The ring took for ever to find what I imagined Spence picking out for you it’s so cute tho

Hold Onto This for Me. (S.R)

Summary, Spencer has imagined proposing to you for a long time. When he finally does, the moment is cut short by a call from the BAU. Now, with his mind stuck on you and the question left unanswered, he struggles to focus on anything but the future he wants—with you

Category, .. bittersweet… fluff angst comfort

Paring, Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Yes I came up with the , “Dialogue, "Relax, baby. Please," Spencer murmurs into your ear, his hands working gentle circles over your tense shoulders. His voice is soft, soothing—an anchor against the storm raging in your mind.

Warnings, Mild angst, emotional conflict, mentions of work-related stress, unresolved proposal

Word count , 1k

Author notes , The fact I wouldn’t even hesitate if he had asked me . 

I loved writing this one it was fun to write this one .

Relax, baby. Please," Spencer murmurs into your ear, his hands working gentle circles over your tense shoulders. His voice is soft, soothing—an anchor against the storm raging in your mind.

"I—I can't, Spence," you whisper, voice shaky. The way you say his name sends a shiver down his spine, but in the best way possible.

"I love the way you say my name," he breathes, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to the side of your neck.

You exhale, leaning into his touch. "I don’t want this to disappear, Spence." You turn slightly, looking up at him with pleading eyes. "I knew what I signed up for, but watching you walk out that door for another case... I just—"

"I know, love," he says gently, his hands sliding down to rest on your waist. His gaze is steady, filled with unspoken promises. "You think I don’t worry about you, too? Every time I leave, I think about you. I think about this—about coming home to you, holding you, loving you."

"Spence, I care about you so much it hurts," you confess, voice barely above a whisper. "I think I loved you from the moment I first saw you." Your fingers brush over his cheek, memorizing every line, every feature. "I love everything about you, Spencer Reid."

His throat tightens, and for a moment, he struggles to find the words. Because this moment? He’s imagined it for so long. Longer than he’d ever admit.

"I love you," he says, his voice thick with emotion. "More than you’ll ever know. And I—I've thought about this for a long time."

He hesitates, his heart hammering as he reaches into the pocket of his nightstand. His fingers brush over the velvet box, the weight of it suddenly overwhelming.

"I want a life with you," he continues, his voice barely above a whisper. "A family. A home. Waking up to you every morning. I want... everything with you."

He finally pulls out the ring, his hands trembling slightly. The sight of it makes your breath hitch, tears welling in your eyes.

"I was waiting for the perfect moment," he admits, letting out a nervous chuckle. "But the truth is, every moment with you is perfect."

He swallows hard, his gaze locking with yours.

"Marry me?"

Before you can respond, his phone buzzes on the nightstand. The sound shatters the moment like glass.

Spencer hesitates before answering, his expression torn.

"Reid," Hotch says, voice instantly shifting into work mode.

"Can you come in? We have another case," Hotch’s voice crackles through the speak.

Spencer exhales sharply, his fingers tightening around the ring.

"Got it. I'll be there soon."

You close your eyes, shaking your head as a bittersweet smile tugs at your lips.

"See? Told you."

His jaw clenches. He doesn't want to leave. Not now.

Not when his whole future is sitting right in front of him, eyes full of love, lips parted as if you’re about to say yes.

Before he can think twice, he reaches for your hand, pressing the ring into your palm.

"Hold onto this for me," he whispers. "Because when I come back? I want to hear you say yes."

Your heart aches as he pulls away, already slipping on his shoes, grabbing his coat.

But before he leaves, he presses one last kiss to your forehead, lingering just long enough to remind you—he’s yours. No matter how many cases, how many goodbyes, he’ll always come back to you.

And when he does, he hopes you’ll be waiting with that ring on your finger.

Back at the BAU …

Spencer was everywhere, yet nowhere.

His mind was stuck on you, on what he had just done, on the ring now resting in your hands.

He couldn’t focus. He had imagined proposing to you for so long, but the reality of it—the way he’d rushed out before even hearing your answer—was gnawing at him.

"Everything okay, Spence?" JJ asked, her brows knitting together as she studied him.

"I'm fine," he replied quickly, though the faraway look in his eyes said otherwise. He let out a small breath and rubbed the back of his neck. "I just... I asked her to marry me, and now I’m here."

JJ’s eyes widened. "No way! Spence, that’s amazing!" A bright smile spread across her face.

Spencer swallowed hard, his voice barely above a whisper as he admitted, "I love her, JJ. I love her so much."

"I'm so happy for you," she said sincerely, squeezing his arm. "What did she say?"

A sheepish chuckle escaped him as he shook his head. "I—I didn’t wait for the answer," he confessed. "I got called in before she could say anything."

JJ gaped at him. "Spence!"

"What’s going on?" Derek asked as he walked up, noticing the look of disbelief on JJ’s face.

Spencer let out a deep sigh, running a hand through his hair. "I just asked her to marry me."

Derek blinked. "Wait, hold up. You proposed? And now you’re here?"

Spencer nodded.

"And you didn’t get an answer?"

Spencer shook his head.

Derek let out a low whistle, shaking his head. "Damn, pretty boy. That’s a bold move."

Spencer groaned, rubbing his temples. "I know. Trust me, I know."

JJ laughed softly. "Well, if it helps, I think we all know what she’s going to say."

Spencer exhaled, the tiniest smile tugging at his lips. He hoped so. God, he hoped so.

Because the moment he got back to you, he wasn’t going to let anything—not work, not fear, not uncertainty—stand in the way of his future with you.

[hotchnerbabygirl]

Still my favorite

Does he not realize the hold he has on me like what the heck are you doing to me Matthew gray gubler like come on for real tho what are you doing to me :(

[hotchnerbabygirl]

One my favorites I wrote

Hold Onto This for Me. (S.R)

Summary, Spencer has imagined proposing to you for a long time. When he finally does, the moment is cut short by a call from the BAU. Now, with his mind stuck on you and the question left unanswered, he struggles to focus on anything but the future he wants—with you

Category, .. bittersweet… fluff angst comfort

Paring, Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Yes I came up with the , “Dialogue, "Relax, baby. Please," Spencer murmurs into your ear, his hands working gentle circles over your tense shoulders. His voice is soft, soothing—an anchor against the storm raging in your mind.

Warnings, Mild angst, emotional conflict, mentions of work-related stress, unresolved proposal

Word count , 1k

Author notes , The fact I wouldn’t even hesitate if he had asked me . 

I loved writing this one it was fun to write this one .

Relax, baby. Please," Spencer murmurs into your ear, his hands working gentle circles over your tense shoulders. His voice is soft, soothing—an anchor against the storm raging in your mind.

"I—I can't, Spence," you whisper, voice shaky. The way you say his name sends a shiver down his spine, but in the best way possible.

"I love the way you say my name," he breathes, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to the side of your neck.

You exhale, leaning into his touch. "I don’t want this to disappear, Spence." You turn slightly, looking up at him with pleading eyes. "I knew what I signed up for, but watching you walk out that door for another case... I just—"

"I know, love," he says gently, his hands sliding down to rest on your waist. His gaze is steady, filled with unspoken promises. "You think I don’t worry about you, too? Every time I leave, I think about you. I think about this—about coming home to you, holding you, loving you."

"Spence, I care about you so much it hurts," you confess, voice barely above a whisper. "I think I loved you from the moment I first saw you." Your fingers brush over his cheek, memorizing every line, every feature. "I love everything about you, Spencer Reid."

His throat tightens, and for a moment, he struggles to find the words. Because this moment? He’s imagined it for so long. Longer than he’d ever admit.

"I love you," he says, his voice thick with emotion. "More than you’ll ever know. And I—I've thought about this for a long time."

He hesitates, his heart hammering as he reaches into the pocket of his nightstand. His fingers brush over the velvet box, the weight of it suddenly overwhelming.

"I want a life with you," he continues, his voice barely above a whisper. "A family. A home. Waking up to you every morning. I want... everything with you."

He finally pulls out the ring, his hands trembling slightly. The sight of it makes your breath hitch, tears welling in your eyes.

"I was waiting for the perfect moment," he admits, letting out a nervous chuckle. "But the truth is, every moment with you is perfect."

He swallows hard, his gaze locking with yours.

"Marry me?"

Before you can respond, his phone buzzes on the nightstand. The sound shatters the moment like glass.

Spencer hesitates before answering, his expression torn.

"Reid," Hotch says, voice instantly shifting into work mode.

"Can you come in? We have another case," Hotch’s voice crackles through the speak.

Spencer exhales sharply, his fingers tightening around the ring.

"Got it. I'll be there soon."

You close your eyes, shaking your head as a bittersweet smile tugs at your lips.

"See? Told you."

His jaw clenches. He doesn't want to leave. Not now.

Not when his whole future is sitting right in front of him, eyes full of love, lips parted as if you’re about to say yes.

Before he can think twice, he reaches for your hand, pressing the ring into your palm.

"Hold onto this for me," he whispers. "Because when I come back? I want to hear you say yes."

Your heart aches as he pulls away, already slipping on his shoes, grabbing his coat.

But before he leaves, he presses one last kiss to your forehead, lingering just long enough to remind you—he’s yours. No matter how many cases, how many goodbyes, he’ll always come back to you.

And when he does, he hopes you’ll be waiting with that ring on your finger.

Back at the BAU …

Spencer was everywhere, yet nowhere.

His mind was stuck on you, on what he had just done, on the ring now resting in your hands.

He couldn’t focus. He had imagined proposing to you for so long, but the reality of it—the way he’d rushed out before even hearing your answer—was gnawing at him.

"Everything okay, Spence?" JJ asked, her brows knitting together as she studied him.

"I'm fine," he replied quickly, though the faraway look in his eyes said otherwise. He let out a small breath and rubbed the back of his neck. "I just... I asked her to marry me, and now I’m here."

JJ’s eyes widened. "No way! Spence, that’s amazing!" A bright smile spread across her face.

Spencer swallowed hard, his voice barely above a whisper as he admitted, "I love her, JJ. I love her so much."

"I'm so happy for you," she said sincerely, squeezing his arm. "What did she say?"

A sheepish chuckle escaped him as he shook his head. "I—I didn’t wait for the answer," he confessed. "I got called in before she could say anything."

JJ gaped at him. "Spence!"

"What’s going on?" Derek asked as he walked up, noticing the look of disbelief on JJ’s face.

Spencer let out a deep sigh, running a hand through his hair. "I just asked her to marry me."

Derek blinked. "Wait, hold up. You proposed? And now you’re here?"

Spencer nodded.

"And you didn’t get an answer?"

Spencer shook his head.

Derek let out a low whistle, shaking his head. "Damn, pretty boy. That’s a bold move."

Spencer groaned, rubbing his temples. "I know. Trust me, I know."

JJ laughed softly. "Well, if it helps, I think we all know what she’s going to say."

Spencer exhaled, the tiniest smile tugging at his lips. He hoped so. God, he hoped so.

Because the moment he got back to you, he wasn’t going to let anything—not work, not fear, not uncertainty—stand in the way of his future with you.

[hotchnerbabygirl]

I loved this <3

I don’t know how I keep missing your notifications..

Can you write a hotch x famous actress. They go public at the Oscars or an award show. The press probably needs to investigate who hotch is. Thanks

The Oscars | [A.H]

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x actress!reader | WC: 0.4k | CW: fluff

The world wasn’t ready for the sight of Aaron Hotchner in a tuxedo. No, scratch that, they weren't ready for the sight of Aaron Hotchner with his hand resting on the small of your back as you walked down the red carpet.

Cameras flashed in rapidly as they spotted you with the mystery man by your side, reporters scrambled to identify him, and fans glued to their screens flooded social media with theories and questions.

“Who is he?”

“Isn’t he a government agent or something, I feel like I've seen him on the news?”

“I need to know how they met, like, yesterday.”

For weeks leading up to the award show, the buzz surrounding your personal life had been relentless. Whispers of a new love interest had floated around since a blurry photo of you leaving a D.C. coffee shop surfaced online. But this? This was confirmation.

Aaron was calm despite the chaos surrounding you, his stoic demeanor making him even more intriguing. He leaned close to your ear, his deep voice barely audible over the noise. “You okay?”

You smiled a small but genuine expression that only he could draw from you in moments like these. “Perfect. I should be the one asking you that.”

You paused for photos at the iconic step-and-repeat. You beamed as Aaron stayed slightly behind you, he wasn’t here for the glitz or the glamour; he was here for you, to support you.

Inside, the night unfolded with Hollywood’s elite coming to greet you—and by extension, him. There was no escaping the barrage of curious glances and polite inquiries.

“How long have you two been together?” someone asked during a lull in the evening.

Aaron’s lips twitched. “Long enough to know I’m the lucky one.”

It wasn’t until after you won your award—a standing ovation accompanying your name being called—that the internet exploded. The camera caught you returning to your seat, your hand naturally seeking his for a celebratory squeeze. It was a small, intimate gesture, but it spoke volumes to the people watching at home.

By the end of the night, hashtags about you both trended worldwide.

#WhoIsAgentHotchner?

#HotchnerAndHollywood

#LoveInTheLimelight

The press dissected every detail of his life within days: FBI Unit Chief, widower, father of one. It was a whirlwind of attention that would overwhelm anyone else—but not Aaron.

In your private moments, when the cameras were off and the designer clothes were replaced by sweatpants, he reminded you why this worked.

“I didn’t sign up for this to be your publicist,” he teased one evening, his hand slipping around your waist as you both watched late-night coverage of the Oscars from the couch.

“You signed up to be my partner,” you countered, resting your head against his shoulder. “And you’re doing a great job.”

He pressed a kiss to your hair, his voice low and full of affection. “You make it easy.”

[hotchnerbabygirl]

<3

can i request aaron x prosecutor!reader where there's a case or smth and he's worried about her being a victim so in the middle of her preparing for an upcoming court hearing he forces her into his office. he swears it's for her safety but she's irritated and they may or may not have a little argument in front of the team 🤷🏾‍♀️

bonus if the unsub contacts her directly 👀

Overruled | [A.H]

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Prosecutor Fem!reader | WC: 0.8k | CW: Threats mentioned, argument, mention of death, power dynamics.

The knock on your office door was curt and authoritative. You didn’t look up from your notes, flipping through the organized chaos of case law and precedents sprawled across your desk. The highlighter cap clenched between your teeth shifted as you marked a line in a recent appellate decision, your mind already structuring the argument you would present in court.

“If it’s not an evidentiary ruling or a direct confession, I don’t have time,” you called without missing a beat, barely sparing a second to acknowledge the interruption.

The door opened anyway.

“You’re coming with me.”

That unmistakable voice had your hands freezing mid-scribble. Aaron Hotchner.

Slowly, you lifted your gaze, arching a brow. He was standing in your doorway, tie slightly loosened, his usual rigid posture even stiffer than normal. His jaw was locked, and his eyes—dark, serious, resolute—they left no room for negotiation. There was an energy about him, one you recognized as equal parts command and concern. He wasn’t here to discuss, he was here to dictate.

You exhaled through your nose, placing your pen down deliberately. “I have a hearing in less than—”

“I don’t care.”

You narrowed your eyes, fingers tightening against the polished wood of your desk. “Excuse me?”

“You’re not safe.” His voice was a low, unwavering command. “Pack up your things.”

You scoffed, leaning back in your chair, arms crossing over your chest. “Oh, that’s rich. Is this about the threats? Because unless they’ve escalated to something actionable, you know as well as I do that speculation isn’t grounds for detainment. I deal with threats all the time, Aaron. Occupational hazard.”

“This isn’t a debate, counselor,” he shot back, stepping further into the room, the movement subtle but deliberate, reinforcing his presence. “We have credible intelligence that your involvement in the Martinez case has made you a target. That’s more than enough reason to remove you from your office.”

Your fingers curled around the stack of legal briefs on your desk, grip tightening. “Credible intelligence or speculation?”

“I’m not arguing with you about this.” His tone was clipped and controlled, but you could hear the underlying frustration laced beneath his professionalism.

“Well, you’re going to have to,” you countered, standing now, matching his intensity. “Because I don’t answer to the FBI, and I sure as hell don’t answer to you, Agent Hotchner.”

Something flickered in his gaze, a fleeting flash of something you couldn’t quite place. His jaw tensed, his hands flexing at his sides as if physically restraining himself from saying something he knew he shouldn’t.

“You’re being reckless,” he ground out.

“No, I’m doing my job,” you shot back, stepping around your desk to meet him head-on. “A job that requires me to be in that courtroom tomorrow, not hidden away in protective custody like some fragile witness.”

“A job that requires you to be alive to argue it.”

The air between you crackled, the tension no longer just about your safety, but about something deeper—an unspoken battle of wills, of concern masquerading as control, of autonomy clashing with protectiveness.

And then, of course, it had to get worse.

“Uh, should we—”

You turned your head sharply at the sound of a voice, only to find the rest of the BAU team gathered near your doorway, watching the unfolding showdown with varying degrees of concern, amusement, and outright alarm.

Prentiss cleared her throat, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. “Should we leave you two alone, or…?”

Hotch’s jaw flexed, his already strained patience thinning. “Go back to work.”

Morgan chuckled under his breath but raised his hands in surrender, retreating with a murmured, “Man’s on a mission.”

You exhaled sharply, rubbing at your temple, frustration giving way to something more complicated.

“Aaron.”

He stiffened at the use of his first name. The team had disappeared, but the weight of the conversation remained, pressing down on both of you like an unseen force.

“I’m not asking you to like this,” he said, voice lower now, edged with something almost—pleading? “But I need you to trust me.”

Your throat tightened. You wanted to fight him on this, wanted to push back, but beneath the stubbornness was something undeniable—the quiet and insistent worry in his eyes.

“You’re going to miss my closing argument,” you muttered, trying to salvage the last shreds of control you had over this situation.

His lips pressed together, as though he were biting back the words he really wanted to say. Then, finally: “I’d rather miss it than have to give your eulogy.”

The fight drained out of you all at once. You swallowed hard. “Damn it, Aaron.”

“Pack your things.” Softer now, but no less firm.

You exhaled, shaking your head, but finally, you reached for your briefcase. The gravity of his words settled in your chest, heavier than you wanted to admit.

“Fine,” you muttered. “But if I miss my hearing, you owe me dinner.”

His eyes softened just a fraction. “Done.”

[hotchnerbabygirl]

This me half time when I’m on tumblr (lol)

[hotchnerbabygirl]

OverDue S.R

Summary : long overdue first kiss with Spencer …

Fem!reader Spencer Reid

Content: fluff

Content warnings : no use of alcohol , bar scene, no use of your name , first time kiss , after a girl try’s to flirt with Spencer , he makes the bold move towards you ,

Word content: 650

Author notes : i hope you like this I’m not sure if i do .

This been in my drafts for a couple months I just didn’t know if I wanted to post to but finally finished it tonight well here we are .

Spencer Reid wasn’t one to show affection easily. He cared in quiet ways—through soft glances, an extra coffee on your desk, the way he always positioned himself between you and potential danger. But kissing? That seemed like a hurdle too high, as if the very idea of it unsettled him.

You tried not to let it bother you. You weren’t asking for much—just a moment, a sign that the walls he kept so firmly in place weren’t impenetrable.

Tonight, the team had decided to unwind at a bar after a long case. It was rare to see everyone this relaxed, their usual burdens temporarily lifted. You sat with the others in a long booth, nursing a drink— you had a cold Dr Pepper you weren’t much of a drinker, and enjoying the rare lull in chaos.

Spencer, however, had wandered off, drawn toward a table where a small group was playing poker.

You watched him from a distance, admiring the way he stood out even in a casual setting—his sleeves rolled up, hair a little tousled, eyes focused.

Then, you noticed her. A woman standing close to him, leaning in too much, touching his arm in a way that made something twist uncomfortably in your stomach. You weren’t the jealous type—or at least, you never had been before Spencer—but something about watching her flirt with him made your chest tighten.

You strained to hear the conversation over the music, catching only fragments at first. Then, clear as day, his voice rose above the background noise.

"Look, I’m sorry, but I can only handle one woman at a time. And right now, my girlfriend is sitting in that booth over there."

He pointed at you.

Your breath hitched.

For a second, you weren’t sure if you’d heard him right. Spencer wasn’t the type to lie—his honesty was one of the things you loved most about him—but that word, girlfriend, felt like foreign territory. Did he mean it? Was it just an excuse to get rid of her?

Still, when he looked at you, something in his expression softened. You gave him a small wave, a smile tugging at your lips despite the uncertainty twisting inside you.

The woman huffed, clearly annoyed, before walking away. Spencer didn’t seem to care. If there was one person he’d flirt with, it was you. And the funny thing was, for all his nervousness around physical affection, that was something he was very good at.

But what happened next? You never could have predicted it.

Spencer stood from the poker table and started walking toward you with purpose. Your heart picked up speed. You weren’t sure what to expect, but it certainly wasn’t this.

When he reached you, he didn’t hesitate.

"I have to," he said, voice low, barely audible over the hum of conversation around you.

You frowned. "Have to what?"

His eyes flickered with something you couldn’t quite read—determination, urgency, something just shy of desperation.

"If I don’t, I won’t be able to think straight for the rest of the night."

Your confusion deepened. "Spence, what are you—"

"Look," he interrupted, his voice firmer now. His fingers flexed at his sides like he was working up the nerve to say something big. "I’m not good at this. This whole... affection thing. I overthink it, I analyze it to death, and it paralyzes me. But you—"

He reached for your hand, pulling you to your feet in one fluid motion. The booth, the bar, the team watching from their seats—it all faded.

"If I don’t do this, I’ll regret it."

And then he kissed you.

It wasn’t hesitant, wasn’t awkward or uncertain. It was everything you hadn’t dared to dream it would be—possessive, deep, overwhelming. His hands cupped your face like he was afraid to let go, like he needed to make up for all the times he’d held back.

You melted into him, your hands gripping the front of his shirt, anchoring yourself as the world around you blurred. His lips were warm, soft yet firm, like he’d been holding back for so long that now, finally, he was done waiting.

When he finally pulled away, his forehead rested against yours, both of you breathless.

"That was…" You trailed off, your mind struggling to catch up.

"Long overdue," he finished for you, his lips curling into a rare, lopsided smile.

The team erupted into cheers behind you, but for once, you didn’t care. Because Spencer Reid had finally let his walls down, and you were the one standing on the other side.

And that? That was everything.

[hotchnerbabygirl]

“Breathe, You’re Safe" S.R

Summary: Spencer helps you with your panic attack by guiding you through the 5-4-3-2-1 grounding tip

Fem!reader x Spencer Reid

Content : Hurt/comfort

18+ only MDNI ………

Content warnings : Panic Attack: you are experiencing a panic attack the symptoms include difficulty breathing, racing thoughts, trembling, and feeling overwhelmed, Anxiety: Your struggle with anxiety, Spencer helps you cope with your panic attack he helps you by doing the 5-4-3-2-1 , grounding tip for panic attacks an anxiety no use of your name .

This is comforting to me but if this triggers you please don’t read I just find it sweet Spencer helps you when your having a panic attack.

Word count : 1k

Author notes : I just learned how to do this the other day when I was having a panic attack so I wanted to write something with Spence helping reader over come her panic anxiety attack

Your hands tremble as they tangle together in your lap, your heart pounding so violently it feels like it’s trying to break free from your ribs. The walls around you seem to close in, the sounds of the bullpen warping into a distant, suffocating hum. You can’t focus. You can’t breathe. The panic claws at your chest, tightening like a vice, drowning you in its grip.

You don’t even register Spencer approaching until he crouches beside your chair, his voice soft but firm. “Hey.”

You flinch slightly, your body too wired, too overwhelmed to process anything but the crushing weight of your own panic.

“I wanna try something,” he continues gently. “Is that okay? Can we do that?”

Your breath stutters. You want to respond, but you can’t form the words. Your mind is everywhere and nowhere all at once. So you just nod, barely, your hands clenching into fists in your lap.

Spencer grabs a chair and sets it directly in front of you, his movements careful, calculated. He doesn’t want to startle you more. He leans in slightly, but not too much—giving you space while still anchoring you. “I want you to do something for me. Close your eyes.”

You shake your head quickly, your breath coming in short, erratic gasps. “What?”

“Just trust me, okay?” His voice remains steady, patient.

It’s Spencer. You trust Spencer.

With a shaky inhale, you squeeze your eyes shut.

“Tell me five things you can see,” he says

Your throat feels tight. “I—I can’t—

“Yes, you can,” he reassures you. “Just count them out as you go.”

You force yourself to take a deep breath. “One… I see your hands.” Your voice is unsteady, barely above a whisper. You look at them, steady and sure, the exact opposite of your own trembling fingers.

“Good,” Spencer encourages. “What else?”

You blink rapidly, struggling to focus. “Two… your eyes.” The words slip out before you can stop them. “They’re… beautiful.”

Spencer clears his throat, a faint tinge of pink rising to his cheeks. “Thank you.”

The corner of your lips twitches, just slightly. Another breath—deeper this time. “Three… I see Gracie playing with something… a slinky.” You let out the softest of giggles, the sound foreign even to your own ears.

Spencer’s lips curve into a small smile. He can tell you’re slowly coming back. “Good. What else?”

You shift your gaze. “Four… the light on the monitor.”

“Great,” Spencer says softly. “One more.

Your eyes flicker toward Hotch’s office. “Five… the state case file outside Hotch’s office.” Your voice is quieter now, the frantic edge dulling.

Spencer nods approvingly. “You’re doing great.” His hand moves to rest lightly over yours, grounding but not forceful. “Now, four things you can touch.”

You swallow hard, taking another slow breath. “It’s… a little chilly. I can feel the cold air from the vents.”

“Good,” Spencer says. “What’s number two?”

You hesitate, then glance at your hands beneath his. “Your hands. They’re… soft.”

Spencer meets your gaze, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes. “Okay,” he says quietly. “What’s number three?”

You inhale shakily. “My breath. I can feel it against my skin.”

“Good,” he murmurs. “Last one?”

You flex your fingers, grounding yourself in the feeling. “My shirt. I can feel the fabric against my skin.”

Spencer squeezes your hand lightly. “You’re doing so well.” His voice is warm, steady—an anchor. “Now, three things you can hear.”

It’s harder this time. The world still feels too loud, but you do what he says. You close your eyes, listen past the static of your panic.

“I can hear your pulse,” you whisper, eyes opening just enough to meet his. “It’s… fast.”

Spencer doesn’t respond right away. His fingers tighten slightly around yours. When he speaks, his voice is lower. “Okay. Two more.”

You strain your ears, focusing. “The ice maker… in the break room.”

“Great,” Spencer encourages.

Someone approaches, and you realize Rossi is standing nearby, listening. Your voice steadies slightly. “The clock. On the wall. It’s ticking.”

Spencer’s lips quirk up. “Good. Open your eyes.”

You blink up at him. The room feels… lighter. Less suffocating. “How are you feeling?”

You exhale slowly. “Better.”

“That’s good,” he says. “But we’ve got two more things to go through.”

You nod, ready this time.

“Two things you can smell.”

You wrinkle your nose. “The coffee. It’s burnt. Like it’s been out Your hands tremble as they tangle together in your lap, your heart pounding so violently it feels like it’s trying to break free from your ribs. The walls around you seem to close in, the sounds of the bullpen warping into a distant, suffocating hum. You can’t focus. You can’t breathe. The panic claws at your chest, tightening like a vice, drowning you in its grip.

You don’t even register Spencer approaching until he crouches beside your chair, his voice soft but firm. “Hey.”

You flinch slightly, your body too wired, too overwhelmed to process anything but the crushing weight of your own panic.

“I wanna try something,” he continues gently. “Is that okay? Can we do that?”

Your breath stutters. You want to respond, but you can’t form the words. Your mind is everywhere and nowhere all at once. So you just nod, barely, your hands clenching into fists in your lap.

Spencer grabs a chair and sets it directly in front of you, his movements careful, calculated. He doesn’t want to startle you more. He leans in slightly, but not too much—giving you space while still anchoring you. “I want you to do something for me. Close your eyes.”

You shake your head quickly, your breath coming in short, erratic gasps. “What?”

“Just trust me, okay?” His voice remains steady, patient.

It’s Spencer. You trust Spencer.

With a shaky inhale, you squeeze your eyes shut.

“Tell me five things you can see,” he says.

Your throat feels tight. “I—I can’t—”

“Yes, you can,” he reassures you. “Just count them out as you go.”

You force yourself to take a deep breath. “One… I see your hands.” Your voice is unsteady, barely above a whisper. You look at them, steady and sure, the exact opposite of your own trembling fingers.

“Good,” Spencer encourages. “What else?”

You blink rapidly, struggling to focus. “Two… your eyes.” The words slip out before you can stop them. “They’re… beautiful.”

Spencer clears his throat, a faint tinge of pink rising to his cheeks. “Thank you.”

The corner of your lips twitches, just slightly. Another breath—deeper this time. “Three… I see Gracie playing with something… a slinky.” You let out the softest of giggles, the sound foreign even to your own ears.

Spencer’s lips curve into a small smile. He can tell you’re slowly coming back. “Good. What else?”

You shift your gaze. “Four… the light on the monitor.”

“Great,” Spencer says softly. “One more.”

Your eyes flicker toward Hotch’s office. “Five… the stare case going to hotchs office.

Spencer nods approvingly. “You’re doing great.” His hand moves to rest lightly over yours, grounding but not forceful. “Now, four things you can touch.”

You swallow hard, taking another slow breath. “It’s… a little chilly. I can feel the cold air from the vents.”

“Good,” Spencer says. “What’s number two?”

You hesitate, then glance at your hands beneath his. “Your hands. They’re… soft.”

Spencer meets your gaze, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes. “Okay,” he says quietly. “What’s number three?”

You inhale shakily. “My breath. I can feel it against my skin.”

“Good,” he murmurs. “Last one?”

You flex your fingers, grounding yourself in the feeling. “My shirt. I can feel the fabric against my skin.”

Spencer squeezes your hand lightly. “You’re doing so well.” His voice is warm, steady—an anchor. “Now, three things you can hear.”

It’s harder this time. The world still feels too loud, but you do what he says. You close your eyes, listen past the static of your panic.

“I can hear your pulse,” you whisper, eyes opening just enough to meet his. “It’s… fast.”

Spencer doesn’t respond right away. His fingers tighten slightly around yours. When he speaks, his voice is lower. “Okay. Two more.”

You strain your ears, focusing. “The ice maker… in the break room.”

“Great,” Spencer encourages.

Someone approaches, and you realize Rossi is standing nearby, listening. Your voice steadies slightly. “The clock. On the wall. It’s ticking.”

Spencer’s lips quirk up. “Good. Open your eyes.”

You blink up at him. The room feels… lighter. Less suffocating. “How are you feeling?”

You exhale slowly. “Better.”

“That’s good,” he says. “But we’ve got two more things to go through.”

You nod, ready this time.

“Two things you can smell.”

You wrinkle your nose. “The coffee. It’s burnt. Like it’s been out for a while.”

Spencer chuckles softly. “Yeah, that sounds about right. What’s the second?”

You hesitate, then duck your head slightly. “Your cologne.” You clear your throat. “It’s not overpowering. It’s… really nice.”

Spencer blinks, clearly caught off guard for a moment. Then he smiles, warmth creeping into his expression. “Thank you.”

“Last one,” he says. “What’s one thing you like to do?”

You don’t even have to think. “Read.”

Spencer lets out a breath, a real, genuine smile tugging at his lips. “Great.”

You take another deep inhale, testing the waters. The panic has settled. It’s still there, but it’s no longer choking you.

“How did you know?” you ask, voice softer now.

Spencer tilts his head. “Know what?”

“That I was having a panic attack.”

He watches you for a moment, something unreadable in his expression. Then, finally, he speaks.

“Because I’ve had them too.”

And somehow, that makes all the difference. for a while.”

Spencer chuckles softly. “Yeah, that sounds about right. What’s the second?”

You hesitate, then duck your head slightly. “Your cologne.” You clear your throat. “It’s not overpowering. It’s… really nice.”

Spencer blinks, clearly caught off guard for a moment. Then he smiles, warmth creeping into his expression. “Thank you.”

“Last one,” he says. “What’s one thing you like to do?”

You don’t even have to think. “Read.”

Spencer lets out a breath, a real, genuine smile tugging at his lips. “Great.”

You take another deep inhale, testing the waters. The panic has settled. It’s still there, but it’s no longer choking you.

“How did you know?” you ask, voice softer now.

Spencer tilts his head. “Know what?”

“That I was having a panic attack.”

He watches you for a moment, something unreadable in his expression. Then, finally, he speaks.

“Because I’ve had them too.”

And somehow, that makes all the difference.