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januaryembrs · 5 months ago

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I MIGHT JUST BE IN LOVE | Spencer Reid x Prentiss!Reader [8]

GIF by fightingdragonswithwho

decription: the FIVE times they hide that they're dating + the ONE time they tell everyone

word count: 17.5k

warnings: blood, gore, usual cm stuff. FLUFF, OH GOD FLUFF. mention of sex (minors DNI in this one), no actual smut but very close to it (actual smut chapter of their first time to come soon), tiny sprinkle of angst because its ME.

author note: WE'RE BACK POOKIES. I'M SO SORRY MY BRAIN STOPPED FUNCTIONING.

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‘oh god I’m gonna marry him, if he keeps this shit up,

I might just be in la la la la la love’

The one with the revenge.

“This is so against company policy,” Bugsy murmured, her fingers twined in Spencer’s hair as he pressed urgent kisses to her neck.

“Only if they have evidence,” Spencer replied, his brows furrowed as she attached her lips to his fervently. They’d held it together until this point, kept the touches minimal, left the make outs and needy hands for home when they could be themselves without exposing their best kept secret to the rest of the team. But today was different. Virginia had reached an unnaturally hot peak, and the whole team had been forced to swap out their usual professional attire with something more casual. Spencer had forgone his sweaters, which had been a mourning in itself, and instead had been rolling his sleeves to his elbows in some attempt to cool his thick veins.

Bugsy hadn’t needed to voice her opinion of the new look. Spencer wasn’t stupid, and he certainly wasn’t blind. He saw how she looped her fingertips between his, the second they had a minute alone, how her eyes trained on his hands when he drove them home, how she would press a quick peck to the back of his hand in between moments of silence when she had little more to do with her mouth.

“Isn’t that funny, the evidence locker doesn’t have cameras, that’s almost-” She cut herself off with a jolted moan as he kissed over her collar bone, nipping so gently that it wouldn’t leave a mark.

“And you guys say I talk too much,” Spencer said, a hint of teasing in his voice as she looked at him with a gaping mouth, learning very quickly that Spencer was a downright menace when they were sneaking around, the boy who never broke the rules, who ironed his socks and folded his underwear almost devilish at the idea of doing something in secret.

She pinched his bottom cheekily, and he jumped slightly, only to find her giggling to which he cut her off with an even harsher kiss.

She was addictive, which was a strong claim to be made by a man like him. Yet he found himself thinking everything about her lips was laced with a toxin he couldn’t keep away from, like he’d had a taste of fresh air and couldn’t be without or he’d begin to turn bluer than Violet Beauregarde. He’d found the golden ticket, the key to the factory. For once in his life, Spencer Reid had come out the other side and won.

Bugsy’s hands were yanking at his locks, their lips sliding against one another, and he pushed to the back of his head that they only had about three more minutes before it became suspicious that they were gone from their desks so long.

And as if some being up in the heavens was sat back watching with popcorn, the door handle rattled as someone entered the room, and the two of them sprung away from one another.

David Rossi strolled in, a fresh cup of coffee in his hand as he sat through his second batch of paperwork, looking for the file from the Milwaukee case to use as source material, His shirt had been unbuttoned, the Virginia heat stifling and he was already starting to regret picking a hot drink over the cold crap that wasn’t even real espresso that Penelope liked from Starbucks, yet he thought he might take anything that would cool him down when he strolled into the back room that was known for no open windows, and the sight of two sweating agents greeted him.

Spencer’s hair was messed from where he must have ran his hand through it a bunch of times, trying to get it off his neck, Bugsy’s shirt was tucked where she probably attempted to cool herself off in the obnoxiously stuffy four walls as they both flicked through separate files, standing about ten feet apart from one another.

“It’s a hot one today, kids,” He said, sliding his coffee on the table and strolling past the two of them towards the ‘M’ section.

They stole a glance at one another, knowing smiles passing between them because it felt entirely clandestine what they were doing.

“Don’t suppose the director would mind if we pulled funds to invest in a BAU swimming pool, would they?” She chimed in, fanning her blouse out because it really was stuffy in there, she had just assumed it was the feeling she got when she kissed Spencer.

“We fuel the jet once a week, what’s a pool between co-workers,” He shrugged, smiling when he heard her giggle.

Spencer pulled the folder he was actually looking for off the shelf, making his way to the exit, watching her eyes shy away from him because they both knew it was entirely obvious when they looked at one another, mainly because his cheeks heated up beyond what he could excuse as being the heat wave.

Yet he was feeling brazen, and maybe a little embarrassed at the way he’d leapt up as she’d grabbed his butt, and with a quick glance back to make sure David was nose deep in the bookshelves, he reached out and gave her ass cheek a quick pinch as he waltzed passed her, hearing her yelp and drop her folder as he did so.

He left the evidence room with a smirk, heading back to his desk and keeping a low profile though he knew she was scrambling to collect the papers off the floor in the wake of his shameless grab.

“You okay?” Rossi asked, his brows raised and watching the girl rearrange all the papers into a neat pile, a flustered look on her face.

“Yeah, just thought I saw a spider,” She said, her voice breezy though her heart racing was anything but. She would have her revenge for that, she swore.

If Spencer wanted to play that game, then it was on.

Two days later, she had all but strolled into work with a shit eating grin, and he knew she was plotting something then. She had been unnaturally quiet on the car ride, had tried to keep her glances at him sparse, though he caught the little smile that tugged at her lips whenever he looked at her.

“What?” He tried, despite the fact she shook her head in refusal, her eyes already sparked with mischief, “What? What’s that look for?”

“Nothing, just concentrate on the road, Spence,” She said, though he heard her toes tapping together with delight, and she sighed dreamily as she looked at him. Though he was under no illusion that it had come from a place of endearment, no matter how much she adored him. Because of course she loved him more than anything, he had no doubt about that, yet he also knew she loved a sweet serving of revenge just as much, and it was for that reason her smile alone worried him a little.

“Oh, nothing, really?” He said with narrowed eyes, though he felt the infectious beam spreading on his face because he loved seeing her happy even if it undoubtedly was coming at his expense, “So I shouldn’t be expecting salt in the sugar shaker, hm? Or a water balloon under my seat?”

“No, absolutely not,” She feigned innocence, reaching over to squeeze his hand in hers with a guiltless expression, “I am much more creative than that, Spence. I’m going big or going home, honey, you should know that by now,”

Spencer snickered, pulling her hand up for a sweet kiss to the back of her knuckles, “I don’t know why I expected otherwise,”

The look of the cat that got the cream returned, and she merely hummed along to the radio. And oddly enough, Spencer was excited to see what she had hidden up her sleeve if it meant he could make her so childishly excited. He thought about embellishing his freight when she inevitably jumped out at him or had a can of worms pop out of his desk drawer, just to have her seem fulfilled just that bit longer.

He didn’t care how much of an idiot it made him look, he was already a fool in love.

Spencer trailed a few paces behind her as they stepped out onto the sixth floor, and he knew she had something truly diabolical planned because she was so brazen as to lean up and press a kiss to his mouth in the elevator, pressing her body against his and letting her velvet tongue slip into his mouth tenderly. He could have slammed a hand on the emergency stop button right then and there, could have devoured her mouth and her lips and her hot kisses some more until he stumbled out of the doors drunken and idle on her intoxicating touch.

He made a move to caress the back of her head with one of his large hands, weave his nails through her scalp to hold her tight to him, only for her to part quickly, leaving his cheeks flushed and his lungs craving more than just oxygen.

“For good luck,” She said with a chirp, a skip to her steps as the metal doors slid open, and she danced away from him with a grin that told him his day was about to be swiftly ruined by whatever it was she had organised.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He asked with a mildly worried tone, not letting her get away from him too easily as he paced behind her, his lean legs weighed down and skittish by the fact his cock was quickly getting hard at the spritely woman who had him trailing her like a dog begging for a bone. He tried not to think of the irony in those words, his expression conflicted between interested and hesitant, “Bugsy?”

“I thought you were supposed to be a genius. It means good luck, Spence,” She teased through a wry smile as she plonked herself at her desk chair, swivelling around to face him almost immediately, looking up at him through thick, roguish lashes, “Oh! Hotch says he wants the Oregon files done today, pretty boy,”

Because it couldn't be honey or baby or the other nice names she’d taken to calling him, but she could get away with the same name the entire team had called him for over ten years.

Taking a final glance at her face that had chaos written all over it, Spencer held his tongue, looping the strap of his satchell over his head and gently placing it on his desk, his forest hues watching as she logged onto her computer, trying to keep her excitement subtle as she grinned into her keyboard clicks.

Spencer Reid had learned quickly never to start something with that girl that he couldn’t finish. And yet, by a stroke of boldness and lust, he had gotten caught up in the whirlwind of their excursions. He had forgotten in between the soft touches and gentle kisses and soppy exchanges just how hellish she could be when she wanted.

Shaking off whatever that look on her face meant, he rolled his draw out of his desk, the report he’d been half way through typing up laying where he had left it last night before Hotch had told them to wrap up for the day.

Pulling the manilla folder from his desk, he swore his heart leaped into his throat as a piece of thin, lacy fabric had appeared beneath his scribbles of handwriting, laughing at the look on his face when he spotted it sitting there in his drawer.

He’d never seen her wear the satin, red thong before, but judging by the way his mind raced like a gelding let loose to conjure images of her in them, he didn’t seem to find it difficult imagining it. The lining was a gossamer mesh, small posies decorating the front in subtle detailing, but it was the floss-like string that trailed down the back that made him stutter, because there was no way that was covering anything important even if it tried.

He heard a small giggle, and his head shot up to the offender, only catching the back of her head as she hid into her keyboard. He knew his cheeks were already flushing with poker hot flames, he felt them as much prickling and biting with heat, and he swore the shudder that ran down his spine was involuntary when he reached out to brush the fabric with his fingertip, testing the waters to see if there were really even there. Spencer’s jaw had slacked open uselessly, and she made it a mental note to tease him that she had finally been able to render the man who could tell her Thomas Edison’s childhood pets in alphabetical order speechless.

“You alright, Spence?” JJ asked with concern lacing her fair brows, because her heels seemed to have made no sound as she had been walking by, unless they had and he’d been entirely wrapped up in his punishment to notice.

He slammed the drawer shut, loud enough to attract the attention of Morgan who was nose deep in his own report, and Spencer nearly cursed when his thumb got caught in between the pieces of wood, choosing to smash his lips together tightly instead and nod wordlessly.

“Something the matter, pretty boy?” Bugsy asked, feigning naivety as she swivelled around in her wheely chair, and he could do nothing but look at her with terrorred eyes, because he had hugely underestimated her with the can of worms idea. Though he couldn’t help but think that’s exactly what she’d opened in showing him that underwear.

He wondered, in between thinking of excuses to give JJ as to why he had looked so disoriented, if she had a matching set.

“T-tired,” He managed to bleat, his thumb throbbing where the pain had surged up his arm, and it seemed his pathetic justification half worked as JJ shot him wary eyes and a small smile, one that said she would let him off with that dumb response for now.

Bugsy blinded him with a grin entirely cheshire, and she drew her file to her chest as she stood from her seat, following in JJ’s footsteps towards her boss’s office.

“Oh, just so you know, I have it in black too,” She said almost too casually, sticking her head over his desk with a sly pull of her lips, as if she was doing nothing more than letting him know to expect rain in an hour or so.

And he could do nothing but stare after her, his finger still aching from his mistake, begging himself not to take another peek at the divine material sitting just inches away from him.

Spencer knew then, if he hadn’t figured it out already in the seven years he’d wanted her, that he was fucked.

2. The one where they almost get caught on a date.

She sipped the straw with a coy smile, the whipped cream and cherry only making the thick drink sweeter to the taste as he watched her intently.

“Good?” He asked with a cottony mouth and her lips popped off the straw, her mouth exploding with strawberry goodness.

“Gotta admit, it’s kind of living up to the ‘best milkshakes in town’” She replied swooping in to pop the glacé cherry between her painted lips as Spencer took a sip from his own double chocolate delight, not missing the way her eyes lit up as she crunched into the fruit. Pushing her cone shaped glass onto his side of the sticky wooden table, she gestured the straw his way, “Swaps?”

He smiled, because he loved sharing his things with her. He might have found it annoying had it been anyone else because he had always had his things and other people’s things separate. He’d always kept his things to himself, not selfishly or maliciously, merely for the fact he liked having his own things uncontaminated. But with her it was different. Spencer would give her anything she wanted, which included a sip of milkshake here and there. His whole left leg if she asked.

Spencer’s almond curls fell over his forehead as he leaned down to sip the strawberry shake, sliding his own over to her awaiting hands, the cold glass moist with precipitate under his fingers. Yet he watched her, her lips pulling into a satisfied smile as she took a gulp, the two of them staring each other down with sickly sweet, adoring glances.

“Good?” She repeated back to him, and he nodded, a large, broad hand reaching over the table to swipe a touch of whipped cream from her cheek, her skin soft and hot as hell under his advance.

“Delicious,” He said, and without really thinking of the consequences, licked the cream from the tip of his thumb, his pink lips making a lewd smack as he did so.

She watched him with hawk eyes, and he had a glowing sense of smugness as she shook her head to herself.

“You’re not being fair,” She grumbled, huffing and slumping back in the squeaky diner seat, and his hand quickly chased hers over the table, grabbing it into a loving entwine of fingers and palms.

“What’s not fair?” He asked, though the shit eating grin told her he knew exactly what he was doing and she nudged him with her sneaker for it.

“You. Looking like a damn porn star drinking your milkshake.” She said, and he felt his cheeks twinge with a blush as she chuckled, squeezing their fingers together to tell him she was only joking.

“Seems I’ve moved up in the world of explicit professions. First you called me a stripper, now I’ve been bumped up to porn star,” He teased, remembering the confusion that had written on her face the day they’d met. Spencer knew it had nothing to do with his freaky memory, he’d known she was special the second that door had opened, he knew everything Bugsy was committed to memory for the fact he couldn’t forget her even if he tried.

She shrugged, a smirk on her lips, “What can I say, you’re a sought out man. You could charge double if you got Morgan in on it,”

He laughed, shaking his head, “Only double?”

“Maybe throw in a Valentine’s day discount for your loving girlfriend,” She added with a million watt grin, and he rolled his eyes, hating how he could do nothing but indulge her when she was like this.

“Ofcourse, I can't have pretty girls paying for things,” Spencer said, because he was somewhat confident now about flirting with her, knowing it would have the full desired effect and more. “Just out of interest, are we still talking about Morgan being involved?”

“Well, I was going to give him the evening off to spend with his own girlfriend, but if you’re really so insistent-” He shot her a raised brow and she giggled, leaning forward to kiss the thumb that had been slowly stroking the back of her hand, “Always just me and you, honey,”

He smiled earnestly at that, and they exchanged a look that said those five words were much more set in stone than the teasing may suggest. Just them, always. Spencer could get used to that.

She leaned over the table for a quick peck on the lips because as much as she loved him, and god did she love him, they had quickly found they were just as embarrassed by affection in public as the other.

“I’m going to use the bathroom before food comes,” She said, slipping out of the latex red seats, his head following her as she waltzed over to the loo, the two of them looking back at one another with small smiles like lovesick children.

She loved the rhythm they had found, albeit the secrecy. It was nights like this, when they were able to act like a normal couple, when they were able to kiss and hold hands and flirt and look at each other with such heat it should have been public indecency, that she knew she wanted him forever. Because if this was how good it felt in private, she could only wonder how good it would be to tell people she was enamoured by one very handsome, very clever, Spencer Reid. Yet she loved having something for just them. In the lives of people who examined each other for a living, having secrets were like gold dust. Let alone a secret between profilers. That was pure jackpot material.

He smiled into his lap, because he was truly happy for the first time in years. He had everything he’d ever wanted handed to him on a silver platter. He had the girl he’d loved for nearly seven years playing footsies with him while he eyed her lips and tried to analyse just how much she would hate being one of those couples that made out over milkshakes and burgers even if it was all he wanted to do.

Spencer Reid had drawn the winning hand, no cheats or tricks or card counting needed. Just being him, awfully, nerdy, awkwardly him.

He leaned in to take another sip of his milkshake, because they really were the best, only for his contented face to drop the second he saw four people walk through the door all smiles and fancy suits and heels, entirely unaware of what they were stumbling on.

Spencer had never fumbled around his pockets for his phone faster, hitting the call button on her profile picture, which happened to be her asleep on the sofa with Sergio’s feet in her face while Niko peeked out at the camera from under the blanket, because Spencer thought it was possibly his favourite photo of their little family. She answered on the first ring, and he could just see the confusion written on her face before she even spoke.

“Spence, I love you but I’m peeing right now, did you miss me that much-”

“Garcia and Morgan just walked in,” He whisper yelled, cupping his hand over the mic, whipping a look over his shoulder where their friends were standing at the host’s desk, waiting to be served. “They brought their partners, they’re staying in, we gotta go,”

Bugsy’s face tightened, her panties down to her ankles, Brittany Spears’ If You Seek Amy blasting in the women’s bathroom and she wondered, on bated breath, if this was exactly what her life had come to.

“...Shit,”

“I’ll pay the tab and try to distract them now, you slip out and we’ll meet in the parking lot,” Spencer rushed, his brow sweating as he saw the waitress lead Morgan and Garcia’s new beau, Sam, over his way, no doubt towards the free booth next to them.

“Alright, I love you,” She quickly rushed, and he whispered it back, before the two of them hung up and realised just what a miracle it would be if the two of them got out of this undiscovered.

Morgan’s dark eyes lit up in recognition as they neared their seats, just as Spencer grabbed her purse and stashed it under his shirt, dragging her milkshake over to his side of the table to make it seem like he was alone. Not the most convincing of cover ups, but it was all he had.

“Pretty boy,” Derek called, and Spencer faked shock as best he could, though his mind was entirely consumed with whether or not Bugsy’s side of the plan was working out.

“What are you guys doing here, I thought you were taking Savannah to that fancy place on fifth,” Spencer said, his gaze trailing behind his best friend to see Savannah and Penelope too wrapped up in chatting to catch up to the boys. Savannah turned to the woman with a polite smile, excusing herself for a moment and heading towards the bathroom.

Shit. Spencer thought for a moment, watching the stunning vermillion dress trail off to the toilets, and Spencer was convinced then and there they were done for, Shit, shit, shit.

Derek looked a little guilty, “You know how it is, man. We got home late from the case, missed our reservation, had to bring my lady to the next best thing. Patty’s.” Derek chuckled and Spencer smiled fleetingly, though Derek could tell it was bothered, “You here with someone-”

“Pretty boy!” Garcia cut Morgan off, bouncing over in her pretty Dorothy-red heels to where their genius was shuffling out of the booth, fidgeting with his hands nervously. “Are you here with someone, are we totally destroying your street cred?”

“No, no. I’m here on my own, I had a hankering for milkshakes,” Spencer nodded convincingly with a taut smile as Penelope and Morgan simultaneously turned their heads to the two glasses half drunk on the table, before they looked at him with raised brows as if to wordlessly question his alibi, two milkshakes for one guy, Reid? Feeling their eyes on him, he baulked, “Like I said, hankering.”

Bugsy felt like this was some sort of Greek tragedy.

After doing her business and washing her hands in possible record time, Bugsy cracked open the door to the bathroom just enough to stick her head out, eyes scanning the restaurant for Penelope and Derek. She caught Penny’s Barbie blonde hair almost instantly, her sing song laugh travelling straight across the room into Bugsy’s ears and it was then she realised she was with a woman. The red dress spoke for itself, her hair was luscious and silky like she’d popped straight out a shampoo advert, her skin that of a bronze goddess, and she immediately clocked that it was Savannah, Derek’s new girlfriend, which made all the more sense when she caught their hunky co-worker talking to a very flustered Spencer.

The girls had shamelessly stalked her instagram in Penelope’s lair at lunch just that week and sweet heavens was a catch, if not for her job as a nurse then for the toned figure Bugsy was convinced was god playing favourites. She stared at the back of the woman’s head, whatever she’d said making Penelope chuckle and turn towards her, her head pointing right towards where the women’s bathrooms were.

Bugsy slammed the door shut, quickly retreating back into the loo and yanking at her hair in a flurry of white hot panic. God, she hoped Penelope hadn’t seen her, or things were about to get ten times more difficult to explain why the two of them were out for a meal on Valentine’s Day, whilst claiming they were entirely platonic ofcourse. She wished the door had a window or she had X-ray vision or something-

A window. A window. That was it.

Head whipping around, her eyes locked in on the two windows above each lavatory, the stall walls luckily low enough that she could see they were big enough for her to slide through if she was careful enough.

Heading back into the cubicle she had been in, she shut the door behind her, and slammed the toilet lid down to give her a step. Her chest pounded, lips pursing when she cursed Derek and Penelope for possibly the only time in her life, because their date had been going so well. And yet here she was, cracking open a window in the diner’s toilets and she wondered for a second time if this was what her life had been reduced to. But Spencer was worth it, she told herself. She’d crawl through a million diner windows if it meant she got him all to herself.

As if the universe was laughing at her, the second she’d swung the window open far enough for her to pull herself through, the bathroom door opened and she froze.

Flashing a guilty look over her shoulder, her eyes widened in fear as she made direct eye contact with the woman who had entered, her lucious brown hair falling like silk over her shoulder as she stopped in her tracks, seeing the girl clear as day over the top of the stall.

Bugsy prayed, on god’s she had never believed in she prayed that Savannah didn’t recognize her, though why would she. Unless she herself was a serial stalker. Though there seemed to be no hint of recognition in her eyes, just shock horror.

A beat of silence passed between them.

“Terrible date,” Bugsy said, thinking quickly on her feet and Savannah’s face melted into understanding.

“Ah,” She nodded, “Is he a Catfish or is he a pig?”

“Both,” Bugsy nodded with a tense smile, anything to get away from the situation where Penelope could walk in on any moment and catch her in the act. And it pained her to lie, because Spencer was the furthest thing from both of those things.

Savannah rolled her eyes, “Sorry you have a crappy date on Valentine’s day, that sucks. Need a leg up?”

“I’m good, thanks,” Bugsy said, standing on the cistern and yanking herself up, hoping she wasn’t flashing Derek’s girlfriend a nice shot of her ass. “You should try the calamari, it’s real good!”

And with that she’d pulled herself through the window legs first, dropping onto the top of Patty’s garbage bins with a ‘urgh!’, hopping off the lid immediately and dodging a heinously large rat that eyed her up for desert and flicking Spencer a quick text to say she was by the car.

Savannah chuckled with a shake of her head, heading to the toilet herself and hearing a loud bang and a curse from the other side of the wall.

Derek and Garcia watched him look down at his phone with a perturbed expression, “I really should be going anyways,” Spencer excused, his mind reeling at just how she’d managed to slip past the lot of them, though the text only read ‘Meet by car. Window.’ and he could only wonder just what the fuck she’d meant by that.

“Are you sure we’re not interrupting, Spencer?” Garcia asked, and he only shook his head.

“Nope, definitely not. The only date I’m late for is between me and Lord Tennyson,” He said, which was almost too on brand for him that they didn’t question it. Spencer nodded to her date and wished them all a good evening before rushing to the front desk, his card in hand as he asked quietly if they could get their burgers to go instead.

Morgan’s eyes narrowed at his skittish behaviour, his fidgeting fingers that tugged at his shirt, the cufflinks his mom bought him for his graduation that he only wore on special occasions glittering under the swinging, overhead diner lights.

“Is it just me or is boy wonder acting extra shifty just now?” Penelope muttered, her blonde brows furrowed behind her glasses as Morgan nodded in agreement, Savannah returning to their table with freshly washed hands, her lipstick spruced up in the bathroom mirror.

“I was thinking the exact same thing, baby girl,” Derek smelled a rat as Reid took a brown paper bag from over the counter, flashing a swift nod back to them as he all but ran out of the restaurant, his long legs carrying him even faster than usual.

He saw her dusting herself off by his car, and before he could even question what her message had been, she had turned her attention onto him with a spritely excitement and launched up to give him a hungry kiss to the lips.

“I’m so sorry, I had no idea they were coming, they told me they were going uptown,” He said, his expression worried that their night had been ruined. He gripped their to go bag pathetically, and it was only then he realised she was laughing.

“Spence it’s fine, it’s not your fault,” She reassured, pressing another delicate kiss to his face as if to ward off the negative thoughts, and he rested his free hand on her hip, trapping her between his body and the car. He pressed into her, letting himself enjoy the affection a little too much in the cover of nightfall, “We probably shouldn’t be-” He kissed her again, because he couldn’t help it, because it was like the adrenaline of almost being caught together had set his body on fire, “-doing this here though, maybe-” Again, his hand shoving the bag of food onto the roof of his car so he had free reign to cup her face entirely, -”wait until we get home just incase they come looking for you,”

He nodded dumbly, “Probably,” He agreed, though he watched her with those eyes that looked dark in the moonlight, pressed against her wanton hands that clawed at his chest, pulling him closer as an impossible oxymoron to her chaste words, because she didn’t want him to let go of her, not really.

He kissed her again, hard, because his chest was still pounding from the close call and her fingers scraped his waist, the feeling jumping straight to his crotch that was already well aware of how close they had become.

“I love you,” He said with a slight slur, idle from their affection and it was only then he opened his eyes to look at her. She looked impossibly more ravishing in the cloak of night, her eyes sparkling in the street lamps, her lips wet with his own spit, her gaze adoring and soppy and so in love, “I’m sorry if our Valentine’s day got ruined,”

“Ruined?” She said, slipping a hand into his back pocket to grab the car keys, leaning in to kiss his chin gently a couple times, “I get to spend the most romantic day of the year with my very hot boyfriend eating amazing burgers and making out on the couch until the sun comes up,”

He smiled, cheeks warmer than the freshly cooked beef steaming through the paper bag, and he couldn’t resist shooting a hand out to stop her from rounding the car to the passenger side, grabbing her jaw in one fell swoop, lifting her head to attach their lips once more, ‘one for the road’ he would excuse when he let her go, and he felt her smile into his affection. They let go with a sweet smack, and the second they did her mouth watered for more.

“That really is the best Valentine’s Day,” He agreed, swapping the car keys in her hands for the food and walking round to her side to open the door for her like a gentleman.

And that was exactly how it went. Until making out turned into more, more kisses, more intimate, more parts of themselves bared to one another for the first time, and they sat in naked silence afterwards, enjoying each other's body heat until their eyes got heavy and they fell asleep.

And Bugsy swore she would love Spencer Reid with every part of her he’d touched until the day she died.

3. The one with the fake boyfriend.

Spencer was pouring kibble when she screamed. The bag was all but spilled over the kitchen tiles as his head shot up, his entire body diverting to the direction of her yell, and before he even had time to put the bag down, perhaps step over the two shadows that dived for the rogue biscuits tumbling to the floor, he heard her footsteps tearing from their room and into the kitchen.

Because it was their room now. Not just his.

She wore black pants and a tight, white shirt with her buttons only half fastened shut. His eyes shamelessly dropped straight to her chest, a black lace bra staring back at him and he couldn’t help but be reminded of the week before, wondering for a second if they had a spare half an hour before work.

It had been eight days since they’d had sex for the first time, and the two of them were struggling all the more to keep it together. He was like a man starved of oxygen, she was a woman let out of a cage, craving one another more than they had ever thought possible. Because before he hadn’t been given that taste of sweet heaven, hadn’t known every inch of her the way he did now, and Spencer thought he might not be able to ever know anything more intoxicating than how she looked in his bed when she-

He was quick to put his hands over her cheeks as she panted, horror in her gaze as she held her phone in her hand, damn near shaken for words, “What? What is it?”

“Oh god, I think I’m going to be sick,” She murmured, her eyes never tearing away from her phone screen, and he promptly took the device out from her grasp, his hazel hues roving over the bright light.

His lips parted, and he felt his stomach flurry into life as he saw the raunchy photo she’d taken of her lingerie, their shared bathroom in the background and what looked to be a toothbrush in the top of the photo, clearly having been in the middle of brushing when she’d taken the photo in the mirror.

His gaze went to the top of the screen, because he certainly hadn’t heard his phone buzz on the counter, nor would it have been such an issue if she had sent it to him, though he suspected he was the intended recipient anyway.

Spencer frowned, “Who’s MILF?”

Bugsy looked at him guiltily. “It’s JJ.” She said through a cottonmouth.

“You know what that word means right?” He said, and she rolled her eyes because of course he was focusing on all the wrong things, though she guessed that was down to his tented trousers and the rouge that crawled up his neck into the apple of his cheeks because Spencer always found an excuse to cram silences with words.

“Yes, don’t worry, you’re the only one I want to ilf for real.” She said, a hand running through her hair in panic as she looked over his shoulder at the text conversation.

“Can’t you just delete it?” Spencer asked, his eyes scanning the photo again because it certainly would have made his morning receiving a photo like that.

“Not on messenger, not when- oh fuck, fuck, fuck,” Bugsy’s voice got louder with every with every curse, and she ripped the phone from his hand when the three little dots appeared, letting her know JJ was in fact typing. Spencer was knocked from his daze staring at the photo, realising that JJ was a profiler just like any of the rest of them, and she could very easily figure out who that photo had been meant for, “She’s typing, she’s typing!”

Spencer took a deep breath for both of them, his hands resting on her upper arms in gentle motions, “Alright, let’s just calm down, she might just be a little confused, I mean you don’t usually send her photo’s like that do you?” He said soothingly, only for her to let out a small screech, and he saw ‘incoming call from MILF’ written in bright white across the top of the screen, “Okay, I’m begging you to change that name, that is so weird thinking of JJ as-”

“SPENCER,” She barked, handing him the phone, “I can’t speak right now, I don’t know what to say, I’ll screw it all up,”

His eyes widened, ushering her hand back to her ear, “I can’t answer it, then she’ll know we’re together while you look like- like that,”

“We live together, I don’t think I’ve worn pants here once in the past five years,” She whisper yelled to him, the ringing going on only longer with every dial thrumming right to her already racing heart, “Oh god, I’m gonna answer it, I’m going to- Good morning, Jennifer, how’s the oatmeal in the Jareau-LaMontagne household?”

“Please tell me that photo was meant for a guy. Or atleast Penelope,” JJ’s voice was full of surprise, and Bugsy already knew she had her fingers rubbing her eye sockets, “Are you seeing someone?”

“Uh, y-yeah?” Bugsy stammered, exchanging a wide eyed glance with Spencer, “A guy from… a bar! I’m seeing a guy from a bar,”

“Oh, Bugsy, why didn’t you say?” JJ asked with a girlish delight, and Bugsy shrugged before she remembered JJ couldn’t see that, and she had to think on her feet for a response.

“It’s just casual- it’s new and totally casual right now,” She stammered, hoping the lie was convincing enough that JJ wouldn’t poke for more answers. But it was JJ, the same JJ who loved filling Emily’s shoes as big sister when she was away, and ‘totally casual’ seemed to not make the cut for explanations.

“Is he cute, how old is he?” JJ rebutted as she submerged Henry’s empty cereal bowl in the sink full of soapy water, pressing the phone between her shoulder and ear.

The girl’s gaze trailed over Spencer’s face, where he had gone deadly silent to listen in on their conversation. He flashed her a devilish grin at JJ’s mothering tone, and she shyly looped a finger through his belt.

“The cutest,” Bugsy replied, with a small beam, and she watched Spencer’s gaze turn doting and sweet. And that time, she hadn’t been lying.

–

“Oh come on, I want to meet this guy,” JJ said, bringing her coffee cup up to her lips. It wasn’t even that Emily had asked her to look after Bug the first time she’d left for Paris, then again when she left for London, that made her so protective. Moreso that fact Bugsy was a little sister if she’d ever had something close to one. Being the youngest herself, she knew what it was like to live in her own sister’s shadow, a feeling that had followed her around her entire life.

If JJ was missing Emily, she knew Bug was feeling the same tenfold.

Either way, the second they’d gotten into the office all of three days ago after the incident, JJ hadn’t stopped badgering her about her new secret fling she had.

“He’s busy, super super busy,” She brushed her off and Spencer smirked into his book, his desk chair turned away from where JJ leaned against her desk. Penelope’s heels clicked against the BAU floor as she wandered over to them, a steaming mug of tea in her own hand.

“Who’s super super busy?” She asked, cutting in half way through the conversation to hear only half of the story, and Bugsy shied away into her lap.

“Bugsy’s secret boyfriend,” JJ raised her brows at the woman who almost dropped her mug, her jaw hitting the floor as she looked at the girl incredulously.

“Did my ears just deceive me? Have you been hiding something from me, cause you know I’ll hack into your social media before you could even say Barbie Dream House,” Penelope said with an aghast expression.

“He’s just a guy I met at a bar, it’s not a big deal,” She brushed them off, already digging the lie deeper, and she only could hope the reward would be a bigger pay out when she thought back the night after the restaurant.

She’d tell them anything if it meant she could spend another night like that.

“Not a big deal?” JJ said doubtfully, flicking a look at the girl, “Come on, I want to meet the guy who’s the best sex you ever had,”

Spencer slammed his book shut, and twirled around in his office chair with just enough time to watch her groan, and bury her face in her hands.

“What was that?” He asked, his eyes lit up with a boyish excitement as he resisted the urge to smirk at her, because he felt the glare before he’d even seen it.

“Nothing,” She snapped at him, eyes laced with an unspoken warning for him to watch his step because they weren’t stupid enough to ignore his sudden interest in her lovelife, “Don’t you have a report due?”

He shrugged with rosy cheeks, his expression that of barely concealed delirium as he watched her flush under the pressure of his prideful grin.

“You know me, I’ll catch up on that later, let’s talk about this new thing you have,” He brushed off, just as Rossi paced past their mother’s meeting, heading for the roundtable room.

“We have a case, kids. Life waits for no man, no matter how juicy his gossip,” David said profoundly as ever, and the four of them rose to follow behind him like a trail of ducklings. Penelope’s heels clicked at his side, and she cast a quick glance over her shoulder at where JJ was interrogating their youngest agent some more.

“You want the 411?” She mumbled, and the old man sighed, watching the girl's floral hair ties bounce with her pigtails at every step.

“Shoot. Wife number one ruined Real Housewives for me, I guess I need something good,” Rossi said with tired eyes, as Penelope scooched closer.

“Bugsy has a new secret boyfriend,” The bubbly woman said in between a million watt grin.

He raised his eyebrows at her, flicking a quick look back at the girl who looked like she wanted the ground to swallow her whole when JJ pushed her for details on their first date.

“No kidding,” He murmured, tilting his head in consideration how he hadn’t seen the signs, he knew well enough now to know the look of a honeymoon phase. He’d had about fifty of them.

“Still awaiting details on how he looks, but I reckon a quick deep dive in her socials will get me what I want,” Penelope added as if putting together a report on an UnSub, though the tech wizz would argue mystery man was just as much a person of interest than any of the others they went after.

He looked at her for a moment, her chirpy tone almost a dichotomy of the invasive stalking she was revving herself up for, and he nearly stopped in his tracks for a second.

“Remind me to never get on your bad side,” He said, with a serious undertone, shaking his head, “I’d hate to be the guy on the end of your wirey maze, Garcia,”

But Spencer’s smile had yet to be wiped from his face, in fact he thought he might just get JJ to say it again into a microphone because the ego boost was set to last a lifetime.

He promised he’d make it up to her for the annoyingly arrogant attitude he was sporting, but then any man with half a brain would if he’d been told he was the best she’d ever had, let alone one with a brain that had already engraved the sound of that into his hypothalamus.

And Spencer knew just how he was going to say sorry.

–

“Wait, so does this mean that your new hypothetical boyfriend is better than Sean?” Penelope said through the screen as they lounged on the jet on the way home from the case. Hotch’s head shot up from where he was reading the newspaper, and he couldn’t even bring himself to look at the youngest agent before he had practically thrown himself out of his seat.

“I’m going for coffee,” He said before anyone could interject and the sight of their boss all but running down the aisle towards the kitchenette made her throw her head in her hands once more.

“I’m begging you, never make me talk about sex infront of Hotch ever again,” She groaned, and Rossi huffed, clamping his own book shut and shuffling past them to meet where Aaron was spending almost too much time with his head in the cupboard, “Better yet, don’t make me talk about sex with his brother infront of him again,”

“For the record, old man number two doesn’t want to hear about who jiggles your Jimmies either,” He grumbled, and Bugsy carded her fingers through her hair, too embarrassed to look at the two men that cowered in the back of the jet.

“Jiggles your Jimmies?” Blake repeated, her brow furrowing, “At least, I’m not that old,”

“Stop avoiding the question, Princess,” Penelope chided, and Morgan laughed as Bugsy huffed, turning her head away as if she hadn’t heard, “Is he?”

“That’s usually what ‘the best I’ve ever had’ means, Pen,” She snipped through blazing cheeks, and she could feel the smug-shit eating grin coming from Spencer before she’d even looked at him, “Now, could we talk about literally anything else, please?”

There was a lapse of silence where Morgan exchanged a look with JJ, and the blonde picked under her nail, trying to think of anything else to say before she cracked, because it was rare that Bugsy ever sought anyone out so fondly.

And possibly because she knew Emily would need the complete, padded out, full update when JJ inevitably called her to rinse her with details.

“How many kids does he want?” The words fell from JJ’s mouth, not really thinking much about the way Reid’s face was claret red. He had never liked lewd conversations.

And he wanted to blurt out three, as many as possible, as many as she wants and then another one, but he couldn’t because that would inevitably give their secret away completely.

“Does he have a stable job?” Blake chimed in, ever the mother considering if the mystery man would be a practical partner, “Is he gentle? Angry men make for terrible fathers,”

“Is he gentle in bed?” Penelope added, her glasses glinting in the light of her computer screen, “Does he do the thing where he-”

Bugsy growled, half way between a groan and a scream, looking between her team with wide eyes, “You’re all perverted, hedonistic, gossip girls, and I beg you leave this alone before I join Hotch and Rossi in the cupboards,”

“Cupboards are full,” Hotch barked, almost warningly because he didn’t think he could look at her until the subject of her and Sean banging was entirely out of his head.

And they went quiet again, seeming to take the hint that Bugsy didn’t appreciate their poking. Morgan gave her an apologetic yet amused smile as he slipped his headphones on, Blake pulled out a puzzle book, JJ retired to her side of the couch for a moment of shut eye, though her brain was filled with what she guessed Emily would say about her little sister having a real life boyfriend.

God help the kid who tries screwing that psycho over.

Spencer smiled dopily into his book, his hands gripping the leather bound spine tightly, and it was the first time she’d looked at him the whole plane ride. His chest puffed as he met her with a cocky smile that he barely tried to hide, and he swiftly received a kick to the shin for his rare ego.

But he didn’t care, the sting in his leg all but none existent because she hadn’t been too cruel with her chastising, and he couldn't wait to kiss the anger out of her the second they were alone. He loved her temper, loved her fire and the warmth it gave him, and he thought then there wasn’t a single thing about her that he wished to change. Even if the scowl and pout on her face didn’t exactly suit her.

His smile was blinding the entire way home, even when they hopped into his car, and he looked at her with ill-concealed excitement, “Better than Sean?” Spencer asked, hopefully, and she tutted, swatting his thigh.

“Spencer,” She hissed, though his eyes didn’t leave her, waiting for a response, “Fine, yes, better than Sean. Best I’ve ever had, right?”

Spencer all but pranced up the stairs into their apartment ready to live up to his new moniker.

4. The one where someone finds out.

“Can I borrow your deodorant?” Bugsy asked, as she slowly slipped a piping hot cup of coffee onto Penelope’s desk, making sure not to spill so much as a drop over the edge of the cute octopus mug.

“Oh, of course! I always have something spare for my girls.” The tech wizz was quick to fish through her bag for the aerosol, handing it to the woman as she snuck a hand under her armpit to apply. “You ever need tampons, a box of cookies, or prescription painkillers, Garci is your gal. Though preferably don’t tell Hotch about that last one,”

Bugsy smiled, “You’re an angel,” She said, as she sprayed herself quickly, “I left my stuff in, uh, secret boyfriend’s car. If you got a spare bra lying around your bag, you’d really be a life saver,”

Penelope’s eyes turned catlike as she narrowed them at the girl, “I said I’m your gal, not Mary Poppins,” She replied, looking up at Bugsy with a smug smile as she played with the fluffy end of her pen, “So, you guys hook up in his car or something?”

Bug pressed her lips together tightly, wondering whether she could let too much slip to the woman who was known for tracking her friends’ phones like they were damn Sim characters on the loose. And despite their relationship being so top secret, it had been five months of sneaking around. Five months of keeping her smiles and butterflies and silly little notions of just how great Spencer was entirely free from girl talk. She knew the moment they told their team, there would be questions and rumours across departments. There would be prodding and interrogating and paperwork to fill out with Hotch, and they more than likely wouldn’t be allowed to be in the field together.

Which brought her an even more worried thought. What if she was forced to move teams?

Spencer certainly wouldn’t be the one to move, he had practically made a home in the BAU before any of them even knew she existed. And despite the fact they felt more like a family to her than the houses in every country ever had, she would leave them if it meant Spencer could stay.

It was different with JJ and Will. They were together, yes, had been in the field together once or twice, but it wasn’t as if they were on the same team, liable to letting their relationship muddy the waters of worklife. She wasn’t entirely sure what the rules were of relationships in the team, and she knew Hotch would become suspicious almost instantly if she asked; knew she could only lie to him for so long about this so called secret boyfriend before he became overbearingly fatherlike and weaselled his way into her head with those stern eyes and that patient law degree.

She nodded after considering spilling her thoughts out to Penelope, because as much as she loved Spencer and loved that he was her best friend even before he was her boyfriend, she missed girl talk. The same girl talk he had no idea how to navigate, that was a complete mystery to him with its hidden politics and rules that he was convinced were purposely made up to confuse guys so they wouldn’t be able to figure out what women were talking about. She missed having someone there to hear just how Spencer would stroke her hair before they went to sleep, when her eyes were closed and her breathing was slowly evening out and he thought she was already dozing, when she would glance at him through bleary eyes because she knew he would be watching her, his eyes wide and fat with love as he looked at her like he was a kid seeing his Christmas presents lined up neatly beneath the tree. She wanted someone else to know how he managed to make her coffee perfectly, how he would wake up five minutes before her, drag himself out of bed to brush his teeth and cook her breakfast at the weekends, how she was trying harder to stay tidy for his sake because she saw the way he cleaned her messes up for her without complaints or grumbles. Bugsy wanted someone else to know that he would kiss her like she was going to be ripped away from him at any given moment, and that she melted into a puddle at his feet when he asked to shower with her just last week and they got to spend forty minutes under the relaxing hot water, just holding each other close enough to feel every breath and smile and laugh and everything else they ended up doing when they were naked.

She loved having him all to herself, truly. Yet there was part of her that wanted to scream to the entire office the second there was a lull in conversation that she was in love with him more truly, deeply, insatiably than she had ever imagined anyone could be.

Penelope squealed, kicking her legs and pulling her second wheely chair out for Bugsy to sit down in, “Tell me everything, were you in the back or the front? Oh my god were you in the trunk, can you imagine that? Didn’t the seat belts get in the way? What about the handbrake? And the wheel-”

Bugsy laughed with a shake of her head, but she obliged her anyway as she threw herself into the seat, if not for a spare five minutes of relaxing before she started her paperwork.

“Slow down! I’ll give you three questions, tops, and that’s all you’re getting out of me, Garcia,” She chuckled, cracking open her Dr Pepper can and taking a sip of the cold fizz.

“Three?” Garcia cried incredulously, “You’re like a genie in a bottle only you withhold secrets instead of granting wishes,”

“I can make it two if you want, smartass,” Bugsy teased, and she giggled at the way Penelope glared at her, like she was ready to lay one of her perfectly manicured nails around her throat and wrangle her for the truth in a rare bout of Penelope Garcia rage.

“Okay, umm, first question,” Penelope held a finger up, pressing her peach painted lips together because she only had three magic wishes, “What was it like, your guys first time?”

Bugsy smiled, melting inside because speaking to Spencer about how good he was in bed seemed like a little too on the nose even for her, and she’d kept it hidden for god knows how long, “It was good, but not just good in that way. Although believe me it was good in that way too,” She said with a bashful giggle, her cheeks heating on impact and Penelope squealed, “I felt safe, and he kept telling me he loved me, and when we were done he went to the store and bought me strawberry milk because I told him it was my favourite,”

Penelope’s eyes melted into puppy dog ones, her lips pulling to reveal her pearly white smile and she quietly ‘aww’ed at the sentiment, her brows tugging together in earnest joy as she watched Bugsy flick the metal tab of the can lid to avoid eye contact.

“What an angel, who did you pay to find you this guy?” Penelope asked and the girl’s chuckled together. She rocked side to side on her desk chair, mid thought of her very important question, “Alright, alright, next one! Have you told Spencer yet?”

Bugsy froze, flicking a look to Penelope because surely there was no way she could have guessed from that short exchange. She knew Garcia was a hotshot behind a screen, but she would have to be given a spot as a profiler if she’d managed to figure out just from that one question who it was she was trying so desperately to keep a secret.

“What do you mean?” She said, trying to hide the way her throat had run dry, and Penny looked at her as if she had lost a few brain cells in the midst of the honeymoon phase.

“I mean, it sounds like you guys spend a lot of time in your room. Spence surely must have crossed paths with him by now?” Garcia clarified, and Bugsy’s brows lifted in what she hoped was well concealed panic.

“Yes- yes,” She cleared her throat, wishing the stuttering away as she scrambled to cover her tracks, “Spencer has met him, he said he’s a great guy, real baseball whizz,”

‘Great guy’ didn’t quite cut it, she thought with a chiding voice in her head, but she was sure Spencer would forgive her with a small bat of her lashes, a sweet kiss even. She even thought of a way that would convince him just how sorry she was for limiting him to just the word great, because he was so much more than that to her; she thought of an apology, one where he would be so smitten and drunk on kisses and other things that she could tell him he was the dumbest boy alive and he wouldn’t care.

Because she was all his, loved him far beyond ‘great’ and the idea of that alone cut his IQ from 187 to a mere 5 on a good day.

Penelope smirked, like she knew a sudden shortcut in her system, “Remind me to interrogate Reid later about this ‘Home Run’ you’re bringing over for bang bang,”

Bugsy snickered, making a mental note to remind Spencer where he suddenly fell in her lie, when in truth she had been thinking about the time he’d subbed for someone on Morgan’s team. She’d been thinking about how proud he looked, how he’d smiled for days after, how Morgan and Hotch picked him up and screamed with happiness at their younger agent, but she definitely hadn’t been thinking about how his hair had looked sweaty and full of curls on his neck, hadn’t at all been thinking that his face looked that extra bit kissable when he laughed.

If it had been Emily, she might have been screwed. She swore her sister could sniff out a lie from her like a bloodhound to a body. It was why she had always been caught sneaking out, always been caught smoking blunts behind the shed, it was why Emily knew for a blatant fact whether she was really sick when she’d claimed she was too ill to go to school. If it had been Emily, she would have been six feet under for that small white lie alone, but Garcia wasn’t Emily. And so Garcia believed her.

“Oh, third question, you guys are being like, safe right?” Penelope said, with rare concern swirling in her dark brown eyes, and Bugsy sighed with a knowing smile, because it felt like the team did nothing but mother her nowadays, “Because as much as I would love to be an aunt all over again, I don’t think the world is ready for a baby Bugsy,”

“I know what I’m doing, Pen. My IUD doesn’t run out for another couple years, we’re totally fine,” She replied, subconsciously running a thumb over the inner part of her arm where the rod lay under her skin until she felt the odd poking of the device. Spencer had insisted he wore a condom the first few times just to be extra cautious, had begun to tell her the fact sex was only safe 99 percent of the time with an IUD alone before she had kissed him to politely and lovingly tell him to stop overthinking things. However they had run out after the sixth time, and instead of stopping to go run out and get more, he’d decided perhaps they would be safe enough, or perhaps he had stopped caring the second she took her clothes off.

Penelope grinned, pretending to wipe her brow, “Okay, phew. If you ever need anything, I’m talking condoms, lube, maybe you guys are getting it on and you realise you’re out of batteries for your-”

“Ah,” Bugsy winced, sticking her fingers in her ears and hopping out of her seat to head for the door, the feeling that Penelope was toeing the line of boundaries the way she usually did only this time she was unknowingly talking about Spencer, “Thankyou, Garcia, however I’m going to get going, breakfast is calling, and Dr Pepper is not cutting it this morning,” She said backing away towards the door, looking at the bubbly blonde who watched her go with a cunning smile. Because Penelope always meant well, even if she trampled over boundaries sometimes, or lacked the perfect words to say, she always had the best of intentions, and for a moment the guilt tugged at Bugsy’s stomach for being so abrasive in leaving.

“As long as you’re being safe, I am happy to know you’re getting some,” The woman brushed off, whirling around her desk to log into her software, her manicured nails clicking against her keyboard at the speed of light.

Pausing with her hand on the door knob, she looked back at Penelope with softened eyes, a small dose of sentiment trickling into her tone, “Pen?” She said in a quiet voice and Garcia stopped, looking back to the youngest agent with wondering eyes, “Don’t ever change,”

And with that she left to grab herself a coffee, because the guilt of keeping secrets was too much for the early morning.

–

She saw him coming mid way through lunch, Penelope tucked behind Morgan’s desk, stirring a spoonful of peanut butter into her oatmeal pot, steam whirling from the container with a sweet scent. Morgan leaned against Bugsy’s workspace, his arms crossed over his chest as the two of them chattered, Bugsy picking at a punnet of fat, red grapes.

Spencer came down the stairs, his eyes already trained on her the second he’d left Rossi’s office after handing some files over to the veteran agent, and he fought the small blush away from the apples of his cheeks. Because even after five months of calling her his girlfriend, just the sight of her glancing up at him with that look in her eyes had him bashful.

His hand dived into his bag before he could forget, a rare and near impossible occurrence for him only he’d found he had the tendency to get sidetracked when she was around, usually looking at her expressive face when she was talking, or getting lost in the light scent of her hair that wafted over to him, watching the way her hands fiddled with her stationary when she was thinking. Bugsy made Spencer Reid forget things, and it was for that reason he knew she wasn’t like anyone he’d ever met before, not that he needed reminding of it.

“Here you go, you left your deodorant in my car,” Spencer exclaimed, producing a pink can from his satchell and handing it over to her with little thought to the chaos those ten words had created.

Because Spencer had unknowingly just set off a time bomb, one that threatened five months worth of covert operations. Unintentionally, ofcourse, because those five months had been just as hard on him. He had just been excited to see her.

Bugsy felt herself go a sickly colour, felt her stomach drop and the wind whoosh from her lungs at the sound of it and her head whipped to Garcia before she could think to be even the littlest bit subtle, because never had there been a clue about their little secret so blatant and open for the taking.

And as if that hadn’t been the nail in the coffin, as if the small look of confusion that washed over Penelope’s face hadn’t given away the small feeling of puzzle pieces slotting together in that wonderfully big brain of hers, Spencer plonked a drink from the cafe down the street on her desk.

It was a pink liquid, thin and sickly looking, with a whipping of fresh cream on top, and a glacé cherry to make it look extra delicious.

“I got you a strawberry milk as well because I know you wanted one last night,” He said, a helpful smile on his face as he slid it over the table to her. It wasn’t the brand that she loved, or the Nesquik powder she kept stashes of in their cupboards, but he knew she would devour it nonetheless.

And yet she didn’t look at him with that loving gaze like she usually did when he brought her presents. Didn’t throw him a ‘thankyou’ dipped in hidden affection, or a small squeeze of his hand that they usually could get away with because they’d always been affectionate.

Instead, the second the words had left his mouth, her eyes went so wide he saw the whites of her sclera, saw her pupil shrink as her head jerked around to Penelope who sat in Morgan’s desk chair, the oatmeal in her hands shaking as she lifted her dirty spoon to point at the young woman.

“Pen-” Bugsy started with a warning tone, the panic laced in her words that were quickly overtaken by Penelope’s voice yelling, her eyes equally as peeled back wide with horror.

“OH! OH! You- YOU- And the- and the milkshake- and you said- OH,” Penelope screeched flicking her porridge covered utensil like a teacher pointing at a naughty student, and she was quick to turn her attention to Reid, “AND YOU! YOU- OH GOD-”

“Woah, woah, what’s with the yelling, baby girl?” Morgan asked earnestly, holding his hands up in surrender to the woman who had cut through the working silence of the office, some of the other agents lifting their heads from their work to see what the commotion was about. Even Hotch had shot a look to the BAU floor from his office, and judging by the annoyed look on his face as he stood up from his desk, they didn’t have a whole load of time to shut Penelope up before Hotch began demanding answers.

This was it, Bugsy told herself. This was the moment she’d been dreading, when they would be outed to the whole office, not even getting to decide when or what they told the team that could soften the blow of a cover story so huge. The moment when Hotch would likely get her to put in a transfer form by the end of the week with a slap on the wrist.

But she wasn’t ready to leave; Bugsy didn’t want to be anywhere that wasn’t with her team, even if there was a grey area in the rules about what she and Spencer could and couldn’t do in the field.

And so she sprung towards Penelope, a hand grabbing the arms of the wheely chair Penelope sat on, looking the woman dead in the eye.

“Hey, Pen, quick question about IT for you, I think we should head to your office, don’t you?” She said quickly, already rolling the woman back towards her lair with frantic eyes while Penelope hopped between five trains of thought, her oatmeal all but slipping from her hands, “Spence, get the door for me would you?”

“And Spencer- you said Spencer spoke to him- you said-” Garcia muttered on like she’d opened pandora’s box and peered inside to see the great wonders of the universe and returned a madwoman, her words only made more dramatic by the way she pointed in Spencer’s face as he passed by them, his own expression curved into worry as he’d quickly clicked what the tech whizz was babbling about, “BASEBALL, SPENCER- SHE SAID YOU LIKED BASEBALL-”

“Okay, am I missing something or was that an extra dose of weird and wonderful from Garcia this morning?” Blake said with narrowed eyes as the genius boy held the door open and Bugsy wheeled a yelling Garcia down the hallway to her office, the youngest agent with an oddly harsh tone as she shushed the woman.

“Pen, I’ll explain-”

“But you- YOU!”

“Shhh!”

“Something’s ruffled her feathers, I can tell you that for free,” Morgan said, his eyes trailing Spencer as he strolled behind the bickering women, tucking his hair behind his ear worriedly, “That right there was a level nine Garcia freakout,”

JJ’s brow creased, as Hotch headed down the stairs towards the trio, all too aware of the commotion Penelope’s yelling had caused while the rest of the office attempted to settle back into their reports. But it seemed everyone’s eyes trailed after the three agents heading towards Penelope’s office, watching the car crash of a moment through the freshly cleaned windows as Pen tried speaking, though yelling may be a better term for it, and Bugsy barked at her to calm down.

“What’s level ten?” The blonde asked, her arms crossed over her chest, and Morgan shook his head.

“You don’t wanna know,”

–

“YOU TWO ARE SEXING LIKE BUNNIES AND YOU DIDN’T TELL US?” Penelope all but yelled the second Spencer shut the door behind him, and Bugsy ran a hand over her face out of embarrassment, her cheeks hot and painfully tingly.

“Penelope, would you please keep your voice down, okay, this isn’t a big deal-” Spencer tried to interject, his palms out in a non threatening manner like level nine Garcia was an unsub they were trying to subdue. The older woman looked at him wide eyed, as if he’d just told her the sky was falling, and her mouth dropped in aghast.

“Not a big deal- NOT A BIG DEAL? Spencer Reid, two of my best friends are screwing around in his car- your car- and you mean to tell me to calm down?” Penelope shrieked, and Spencer wondered for a moment if he was getting yelled at or she really was just that shocked, “I mean, this is groundbreaking, like more groundbreaking than the Anniston-Pitt-Joley affair, you guys are messing around right under our noses- this is like the talk of the century-”

“W-we’re not just messing around, Garcia,” Spencer spluttered, scratching at his neck awkwardly, “I mean not that that stuff isn’t great, cause, god, of course it is,” He looked at Bugsy who smiled with an unnatural shyness, rubbing at her mouth with an anxious touch, “But it’s not just that, I really-really love her,”

Bugsy thought she might have just melted on the spot there and then as she looked at him over her shoulder, a meek simper spreading across her face and she flicked a look back to Penelope with pleading eyes.

“I know it’s a lot to take in, and I know it's sudden,” She said quietly, and for once Penny listened, because it was like the air had shifted to accommodate the gooey feeling of love between the youngest agents, “But he’s right, it’s not just fooling around, Pen, we’re just being us. And we wanted to keep it that way a little while,”

If there was one thing about Penelope that Bugsy knew would tug on her heart strings, was that Pen, at her core, was a romantic. She gushed over the kisses in the rain, the soppy proposals, the cheesy love confessions. And judging by the way her horror seemed to have melted away, she was entirely right, because it left behind a sparkly look in her eye that flicked between the two of them, like she was a kid watching the prince get the princess for the first time all over again.

“Wait, so you guys are like, in love love, like wedding bells and a white picket fence with kids in the yard and all that?” Bugsy grinned, feeling Spencer’s arm lay over her shoulder, pulling her close to his side, and in a rare moment of PDA, she looked up at him with the full extent of her adoring gaze.

“I’m vetoing the white fence, but I guess so,” She said with crude humour, and he smiled down at her, raising his brows and almost instantly they’d flung back into how it was when it was just the two of them at home.

“Vetoing the fence? How are the kids going to play in the yard, we’ll be raising a small horde of them,” He quipped back, and she laughed, burying her face in his chest as Penelope watched with fascinated interest how they fit together the same way they always had and yet now they were suddenly different. Glowing. Golden.

“I was thinking more of a flock but okay-”

“Are you kidding me?” Pen interjected, her tone exasperated and sweet, besotted with the sight of the youngest agents poring over one another unapologetically and she felt like slapping herself silly because how had they not noticed before. “I take it back, you guys aren’t Pitt and Joley, you’re- you’re William and Kate, you’re Neeson and Richardson, you’re just,” She sighed dreamily as the two of them glanced at her with coy smiles, entirely exposed in their sickeningly loved up stupors, “Meant to be,”

They looked at eachother, because Pen had hit the nail on the head, the fact they’d danced around one for so long that it felt like they had always been made for one another the second they’d kissed that day in her room. Bugsy couldn’t imagine a life without Spencer in it, didn’t think she started existing really until he came knocking on her door in search of a translator. Spencer never believed in god or heaven or angels, but he knew whatever it was that had sent her to him when he was ten feet below his rock bottom, was something even a man so smart as him couldn’t explain.

Bugsy grinned toothily at the tech whizz, pointing a reprimanding finger in her direction, “You can’t tell Morgan, this is top secret,”

Penelope’s mouth dropped its smile almost instantly in moral offence, “Wait, what? But I always tell big daddy everything,”

Spencer face scrunched in bafflement, his lips moving before he could stop them; “Big Daddy?”, whilst Bugsy brushed off the nickname almost too unsurprised at the woman’s words.

“Please, Pen, pleeeease,” She begged, her eyes round and wide with a pleading expression that made her seem ten years younger, and Penelope looked like she was ready to crack within mere seconds , “We��ll tell everyone soon, I promise, just please give us a few more weeks to figure things out,”

And Garcia showed signs of crumbling. Not that Spencer could blame her, because Bugsy could get anything she wanted from people when she really tried. He liked to think of it as her sixth sense, sometimes wondered if she had some sort of mind control over him that she hadn’t told him about because he seemed to bend and sway to her whims almost too easily, and it was almost comforting to see Garcia facing the same struggle as she huffed, turning away from the puppy eyes that stared into her soul.

Penelope sighed, pouting a little at the fact she’d been given an explicit instruction to hide something from Morgan, the very idea of which setting her in a dampened mood. Yet she glanced back at the two agents that held onto each other like they were awaiting lottery results, their imploring eyes trained on her and patiently holding out for a response, knowing she was the only person in the whole world who had the power to put an end to their hypothetical romcom montage they’d been swept up in for months. She bet to herself for a moment that they would have some kind of cheesy seventies or eighties hit playlist running behind all of their hidden moments and secret affections, might have Cindi Lauper’s Time After Time running when they had their first kiss, She’s Always a Woman by Billy Joel when they danced in the kitchen at breakfast.

Penelope Garcia was nothing but a hopeless romantic, and it was for that reason that she rolled her eyes with a wry smile, and Bugsy’s chest deflated with relief, her expression lighting up with joy, that Spencer was quick to replicate.

“What would you kids ever do without me?” Garcia said with a dramatic huff, and Bugsy all but threw herself at the woman, grabbing her in a tight hug, squeezing her so hard she nearly popped a pom pom out of her hair.

“Oh, thankyou, thankyou, thankyou, I swear we’ll make it up to you, anything you want,” Bugsy said, her words flooding together with excitement as she buried her face in the woman’s blonde curls, “I swear, it’ll be a few weeks tops,”

And with just a few more minutes of Penelope squealing over the sight of them holding hands, nearly fainting from joy when Spencer tucked Bugsy’s hair behind her ear lovingly with an adoring gaze, their secret was safe again. For a matter of a few weeks, that was.

5. The one where he gets shot.

“We’ve got the suspect headed into El Lobito’s diner,”

“Copy that, we’re on our way,” The sheriff reported, his radio sounding out as he approached the group where they stood around their table crammed full of suspect profiles. “We got him,” He said with a trace of relief, the preacher that had been murdering the prostitutes he pimped out finally within their grasp.

Bugsy nodded, checking that her gun was holstered and reaching for her vest when Hotch put a hand out towards her, “Prentiss, I want you here with Rossi and I coordinating response here. Blake and Reid, you go with the sheriff to meet Morgan and JJ at the diner,”

She opened her mouth to protest, maybe to exclaim that she was one of the best shots on the team, that there was nothing more that she could do here than if she was out in the field with the others, but Hotch’s word was always final, and she knew protesting on such a time constrained operation would only end in her unit chief giving her a timeout on the naughty step.

So, instead, she bit the inside of her cheek, silenced whatever protest she was going to give because she knew he hated hearing her whine, and within a moment everyone seemed to jump at their orders.

She caught Spencer’s eye as he trailed behind Blake, wishing now more than ever things could be different, because a horrible feeling settled in her gut like a rotten fruit, churning her stomach with horrid thoughts that Spencer was heading straight for the line of fire and she couldn’t so much as give him a hug without it seeming odd.

She wished more than ever she could grab him in a kiss that Hotch would pretend to not see, that he would understand because the entire team fretted over one another when the cards were dealt and the guns were loaded, wished she could tell Spencer over and over that he needed more than anything to make it back to her safely because she wouldn’t know what to do with all the love she had for him if he wasn’t there to take it.

Except she couldn’t. Not here. Not so public.

So instead she flashed him a nod that said a million words and more. I love you, I love you, I love you Spencer Reid. Come back to me because I love you more than life itself, Spencer Reid.

And Spencer got the message, the exchange looking like a plain tilt of the head between coworkers, as he strolled out of the precinct, checking his gun was loaded in his holster.

His eyes read clear back to her what his reply was, though maybe it was just their spidey sense working overtime, she could have swore she read his mind in the split second that their gaze met.

I’ll try. I’ll try with everything to come back to you.

–

“Copy that, two of ours, three of theirs,” Cruz said with little to no inflection as he held out the speaker phone to the middle of the room, and Bugsy felt her breath catch in her throat as she waited for Alex to go on, “Any casualties?”

“One,” She replied, and the Prentiss woman felt her head go funny at the sound of it, “Coleman. Morgan has a superficial wound to his shoulder, little winded from getting shot in the vest but Reid is..”

Blake trailed off, her throat choking up with emotion as she watched the boy be loaded onto the stretcher into the back of the ambulance.

“What?” Hotch pressed, and Bugsy would have to thank him later because she could have sworn words had failed her by now.

“Reid’s been hit in the neck,” She felt her legs go numb, the world spinning around her like someone was playing a cruel joke on her, like she was falling down, down, down into the rabbit hole, down into wonderland, where Spencer was hurt, badly, and she hadn’t been there to stop it. “It’s looking… bad,”

Hotch flicked a glance at her where they stood in the precinct, and it was only then she realised all the air had whooshed from her lungs in what she suspected had been something between a gasp and a ‘no’, though she couldn’t say for sure because her hearing had been knocked clean from her, a high pitched whine of white noise ringing in her ears, like she’d knocked the signal from a TV, like her brain had been filled with static the second Blake’s voice floated through the phone.

“Bugsy,” It sounded underwater, and suddenly it was too difficult to swallow, until she realised the feeling was that she might just throw up, and she stepped towards the precinct door in some sort of haze, rustling around her pockets for the keys to the SUV, “Bugsy, wait!”

There was a hand on her shoulder spinning her around as she was hit in the face with cool air, and suddenly Hotch was there, his umber eyes full of concern, Rossi not too far behind him, and it took her Unit Chief all of one swipe to snatch the keys from her.

“I- We have to go, Hotch- we have to see him,” She babbled, and she was surprised at the fact she didn’t feel like crying. She expected to feel the burn behind her eyes, the tingling and tightness in her throat, only to come up blank. Like her body had taken a back seat, her head working on autopilot because she needed to see spencer for herself, “They need to know he can’t have any narcotics- I need to make sure it’s on his sh-sheet,”

Her teeth were chattering. It was the middle of July, why were her teeth chattering?

“I know, I know, he’s in good hands,” Hotch said, in a way that told her he wasn’t being Hotch, that right now he was Aaron. He put a hand on her shoulder, the size of it dwarfing her and he looked at her like he was explaining to Jack why he couldn’t have chocolate before bed, “I know, we’ll go tell them right now, honey. Just let me drive the car.”

She nodded without really hearing him, and Rossi opened the front passenger seat door for her, a grandfather’s hand on her back that helped her up into the jeep, because she seemed ready to take a tumble at any point, walking like her knee caps were made from jelly.

“Has Blake said anything else?” She said, her voice entirely childlike, and David would bet any amount of money that it was the shock. He took a look at her, the way her fingernails were picking around each other already in a bad habit he could already guess came from Emily, and Aaron hopped into the driver’s side of the car, leaning over to grab her seatbelt for her.

“Not yet, kiddo,” Rossi replied, his eyes soft like a teddy as she nodded dejectedly, and he closed the door on her side of the vehicle, opening the back for himself, Hotch mother henning over her.

Aaron had expected her to worry, god knows he was well aware that Spencer and Bugsy struggled to function when they weren’t close by. He chided himself for splitting them up, yet he’d thought he was doing his best keeping his team in two equal sized groups both in the field and in the precinct. With JJ’s suspicions of a mole in the police force, Hotch and Rossi needed back up just as badly as the others. And god forbid he had selfishly tried to watch over her. Not because he didn’t think she was capable, but because he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if something happened while he’d sent her after an UnSub.

He knew it was wrong to pick favourites, and truthfully if he had to he’d say, his whole team meant something like family to him. But Bugsy was the youngest, the baby if you would, she was mellower than she liked to pretend she was, and she’d carved a small soft spot in his side that he would struggle to get rid of.

Only now Reid was down, and with him went Bugsy.

Hotch started the car, quickly navigating his way to the hospital where he knew his team would more than likely already be racing towards in the same state of panic. He caught the way her knee thudded on the carpeted floor, where she tapped her ankle and it took a small glance to his right to see her chewing at her cuticles silently.

“Bug, he’s in good hands,” He repeated, and she nodded though she didn’t seem to really be listening, “He’s going to be alright,”

Yet part of Aaron felt like he was telling himself that as much as he was telling her. Because if something happened to Reid, he didn’t think any of them would be the same again.

–

Blake heard her before they saw her, the way Hurricane Bugsy usually went.

“I swear to god, you had better let me through this door right now, or I will have your superior on speed dial by the end of the week-” She snapped, her panic quickly turned vitriol anger as the desk assistant who tried blocking her way into the critical unit looked at her somewhat mortified that his job was walking along a fine line.

Hotch and Rossi had gone straight to where Morgan sat resting in a separate ward, trying to gather more information about the shooter since Morgan had seen the UnSub first hand.

Blake’s head shot up, the wetness around her lashline stinging with guilt as she watched the youngest agent tear through the waiting room as if looking out for blood. Alex was out of her seat on shaking legs, heading towards the girl who she knew would go down in a blur of swings and insults for Spencer Reid.

“Bug, honey, hey,” Alex’s tone was motherly, as were her soft hands that she placed on the girl’s shoulders, and it didn’t become clear that the source of distress was from a place of fear instead of anger until the girl whipped around to face the voice, and Blake saw the redness rimming her eyes where she had forced the weeping away, likely putting on a brave face and high walls to stop the real emotion swirling inside her.

Bugsy looked at the older woman, and that was all it took for her lip to quiver. It didn’t help that Alex threw her arms around her, pulling her in for a soft hug, one she had never gotten from Elizabeth Prentiss, one she had been craving her whole childhood, a mother that held her tight and told her she was going to be okay.

“What happened?” She said, the sob crawling up her throat, bleeding into her words and muddying them with tears, and Alex had to swallow thickly to keep down the wail that pressed tight against her tongue, “What happened?”

“He pushed me out the way,” She said with a shaky voice, and it took everything inside herself not to cry right there with her. “UnSub was aiming right for me, Spencer grabbed me and pushed me out the way. By that point it was too late, he’d already pulled the trigger, I’m so sorry honey,”

“Don’t be s-sorry,” She hiccuped pathetically, clinging onto Blake like she was her only lifeline, perhaps the only thing keeping her standing, “I’m glad you’re okay, I was s-so worried,”

Alex nodded, knowing she might just start crying then and there with the youngest agent if she were to open her mouth, and instead she chose to press a delicate kiss to her temple, hoping it would have to do since the infamous Emily Prentiss wasn’t there to comfort her sister. She seemed to quieten down enough in the embrace that Alex could pull away, her hands still on the girl’s shoulders.

“I was just doing a crossword if you wanted to join me?” Alex said, which was a half truth since she had been too bothered to get past even the first three clues, and Bugsy nodded, her mind immediately spewing a million mornings of her and Spencer fighting for space at her desk to do the daily crossword.

She couldn’t think like that, couldn’t think of him as if he was gone. Because he wasn’t, he was simply down that hallway, in the hands of surgeons who could slash his throat if they made even the smallest of nicks wrong-

“Yeah, I would like that,” Bugsy nodded with a sniffle, wiping her cheeks with her cuff, feeling pathetic and entirely regretful for bursting into the waiting room with a million emotions and no idea which one to feel first.

She had never been good at putting a name to how she felt, only this time, if Alex were to ask her, she knew she would say she felt guilt. Guilt for not being there to help them, for hiding things from them for almost seven months now, for not telling Spencer she loved him more, not reminding him every second of every day, guilt that everyone was hurting over Spencer taking a knock and yet she was the only one who couldn’t smush it down into a box and put on a brave face.

Because she couldn’t even if she tried. The trojans had a horse, Rocky had Creed, and she had Spencer. She was all mouth and courage and stone faced until it came to him. He was her Achilles Heel.

She looked over Alex’s shoulder, pointing at seven across, and sighed with the horrific irony of the clue. A feeling of deep regret and remorse.

“Contrition” She said, slumping into the chair as Alex penned the answer in with a wobbly lip.

It was going to be a long night.

–

Hotch found her by the vending machine, looking between the Dr Pepper and the Full Fat Coke like one of them would be able to tell her how to feel. She knew he was waiting for her, knew they had a job to do, but she couldn’t make herself move. She felt like the hospital linoleum had claimed her as its own, like she had melted into the squeaking surface until further notice.

He was out of surgery by now, already in his room resting. It was just a matter of waking up really, and then they would see how bad things were, though by the sounds of it the doctors had hopes for a miraculous full recovery.

Two centimetres to the right and it would have been an entirely different story, that’s what the surgeon had said. She was two centimetres away from losing the person she loved more than she ever knew was possible, the man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with.

She thought for a second then, that if Spencer proposed the second he woke up she would probably say yes. Because she’d said it herself, her life had never been her life until it had him in it.

“Bugsy,” Hotch tried, but her head had turned down, her chin pressing into her collar and it was then her shoulders began shaking, “Bug, come on, he’s going to be okay,”

She shook her head, biting down hard on her lip to stop a whimper of raw pain coming out, “I should have been there, I could have stopped it, I could have covered him,” She mewled, feeling him wrap a hand around her shoulder, and it was only then he tugged her towards him, letting her whimper into his chest as she clung onto him.

“I know, I know it’s hard, but he’s going to make a full recovery,” He said in that cotton soft, loving tone usually reserved for Jack when he woke up from nightmares, “None of this was your fault, sweetheart, you have to know that-”

“I can’t do this without him, Hotch,” She said, pulling away just enough to look him in the eyes, and it pained him more than he’d ever admit to see her look so distraught. Memories of when Emily left flooded him and he felt all over again the painful shell she’d crawled into make an appearance, “I can’t,”

It was a beg, a plea for mercy, a cry for help, and he could do nothing but nod, because he understood. If any of his team died, his team who he loved like a family, he thought he would crumble all the same.

Only he knew it was different. He’d always known, deep down, why it was different for them. He saw the way Spencer had always looked at her, how damaged and tormented Bugsy’s eyes were as she looked at him now. And he knew.

“I know, honey,” He said soothingly, stroking hands over her cheeks to dry them for her, because he couldn’t stand to see her so sodden with tears, “But you know what? You’re going to pick yourself back up until Reid gets better, because we have an UnSub to catch-”

“Hotch, I can’t,” She shook her head, but Hotch only pulled her closer, his eyes boring into hers with more affection than her father had ever shown her. “I can’t-”

“Yes, you can. You know why?” He asked, and she went quiet, shaking her head with a pitiful sniff, “Because I have never once stopped believing in you, even when you hated me, even when you had a damn building dropped on you, even when you were a reckless kid running away from your own wedding, I never stopped thinking that you were the bravest person I’ve ever known. And Spencer never stopped believing in you either,”

Her throat closed up all over again, her eyes wide and threatening to wash her skin with tears all over again as she nodded timidly.

“Okay?” Hotch said, and she nodded again. He rooted around his blazer pocket for a handkerchief, passing it off to her before he reached for the top button of her shirt. He unbuttoned it with a gentle thumb, poofing her neckline out so she could breath a little better through her dying cries, “Why don’t we get that collar loosened a little for once, huh? Get you a soda, and then we’re going to make this son of a bitch pay for what he did to Reid,”

Bugsy nodded again, feeling a hundred percent better the second air got onto her throat, and she saw glimpses of what he was like as a dad. Part of her wished then that things would have been different, that maybe she would have had a dad like him, one that knew how to fix things. One that knew just what to say to make her smile.

He produced a five dollar bill, holding it up for the vending machine to eat as he turned to her, “Alright, now which one are you having?”

Bugsy thought she might just love Aaron Hotchner ten times more than she already had.

+1. The one where they tell everyone

She swore she had never run through hospital halls so fast.

Blake had called her to update her about Garcia shooting the UnSub who posed as a doctor to try and administer lethal doses of medicine to Spencer, and when that hadn’t worked, he’d pulled a gun on her boyfriend and her tech whizz best friend.

And Penelope had shot him. Killed him. All to save Spencer.

And she supposed she needed to thank Penelope soon, that she would need to get the girl her own bunch of flowers like the ones she’d quickly excused herself to grab while Hotch and Rossi went straight up into Spencer’s hospital room, even when Aaron had tried to wait for her thinking she was having another crisis of faith, she had ushered him along and told him it was bad form to show up without a card at least.

She burst through the doors like a bat out of hell, and the sight of Spencer in the scrubs, thick gauze wrapped around his neck made whatever resolve she’d been storing dissolve immediately. Her face crumpled in a cry, and he barely had time to carefully turn his head towards the door, before she had launched herself at him, the flowers and card she had gotten him from the hospital gift shop forgotten and tossed to the floor.

She would apologise later, because she had ruined his presents despite the sentiment being there; for now she needed to feel him, make sure he was real and breathing and alive the way she’d told herself he wouldn’t be.

“Bug-” His voice was raspy, no doubt having been drifting in and out of sleep for the past few hours, or even if the doctors had told him to rest his throat so as not to affect the thin, delicate stitches. But it didn’t matter much to her, she didn’t even let him finish anyway before she threw herself at him, minding his wound as she wept onto his chest, her arms wrapping around his waist, “Bugsy, it’s okay, I’m okay,”

But she couldn’t even speak, couldn’t even tell him to stop trying to reassure her, stop trying to make her feel better because he was the one in pain. She felt like a coward; she hadn’t even pulled herself together enough to see him before, when he had still been sleeping. The sight of him on that bed, his eyes squeezed shut… she had turned tail and run before she even gave him a chance. Knew she wouldn’t be able to hold herself together on the case if she went into his room and pretended everything was going to be fine the way Garcia and Blake were doing.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I’ll stop-” She hiccupped, lifting her head up to look at him through distraught, reddened eyes, and she saw his face morphing into pure sorrow, his own hazel hues wide with grief because he hated seeing her in so much pain.

And she couldn't stop herself, her hands migrated to his cheeks, steering clear of the suture. She didn’t think of the other eyes in the room, or the fact only Penelope knew, she suspected Hotch might have caught on by now anyway, she didn’t frankly care. She wanted to feel him against her, to know he was still hers.

Bugsy kissed him like he was about to be ripped away from her at any given moment, and had she been in any other mindset she might have cared about the fact she could taste the salt of her tears, that he froze under her brazen affection, or that she surely looked a state after what the past twenty four hours had put her through. She didn’t care when she heard a gasp, or felt stares, only that Spencer kissed her back, possibly the most tender he had ever been, his hands soft and featherlike as they traced over her waist to pull her closer. He tasted like Jell-O, and she thought it might just be her favourite flavour suddenly, because it was all him.

She pulled away with a sniffle, looking entirely sorry for herself and like a kicked puppy, and she was quickly ripped out of her delirium that allowed her to look at him without guilt or hesitation by a loud whistle.

“Now how long have you kids been holding that out?” Morgan jeered, and Bugsy cracked a smile, wiping her face on the back of her sleeve as she looked at her team. JJ and Penelope clung to one another with ditsy smiles, like they were watching John Cusack playing the boombox over his head at the bedroom window, Rossi stood with his arms crossed, a nostalgic smile on his face as he watched the kids he’d seen grow up finally seem like they were at home. Morgan looked ready to tease some more until Blake put a hand on his shoulder, entirely motherly and chiding, and Hotch looked at her and her alone like he was looking in a mirror.

He supposed, for once, the bau had found a happy ending.

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#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #matthew grey gubler x reader #matthew gray gubler x reader

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certaimromance · 5 months ago

Text

𝜗𝜚 Hide & Seek.

Post prison Reid x Reporter!reader

Read part two here!

Summary: The night with your boyfriend is going perfectly, and you couldn't be happier, until he receives an unexpected call telling him that information about an important case has been leaked to the press, and many doubts about you appear.

Words: 2,5k.

Warnings & Tags: mentions of crime. fem!reader. established relationship. angst WITHOUT a happy ending. mistrust and lack of communication. english isn't my first language (sorry for my mistakes, be kind please).

Note: Again I apologize in advance for this, but I love exploring Spencer's character and his changes. It's so funny to know that the one from the first seasons would never do this but I love him anyway.

♡ Enjoy! ♡

Your smile couldn't have been bigger at that moment.

After several weeks of work and no time to see your boyfriend or send him more than two text messages, you finally find yourself humming cheesy love songs next to him and hugging him whenever you want. You had only been in his apartment for a few hours after the universe and all the stars had aligned so that neither of you had to work that night and you could have your long-awaited quality time together. It was certainly much needed for both of you and could be a bit of a celebration for finally getting a raise.

The sweet smell of the candles you both had placed on the table mixed with the ingredients on the countertop, creating a much more homey atmosphere. After much thought, the two of you had decided to make some homemade cookies with different fruits to eat yourselves and give some to your friends. You had always loved baking, especially when it came to desserts, and being able to do it with Spencer was even better. Although you knew he was only doing it to make you happy because he was pretty clumsy in the kitchen.

“I think you have some flour here, sweetheart.” You could feel him running his finger over your face, laughing as he smudged you, then stepping back a little to look proudly at his handiwork. “You look so cute.”

“Really? You want to play, Dr. Reid?”

You raised an eyebrow and gave him a menacing look, and made a quick move to smear some flour on him and get on the same terms. But you barely managed to mess him up a bit when he gently grabbed your wrists and planted a kiss on your lips, pushing any thoughts of revenge from your mind.

“You cheated, it's not fair.” You murmured against his lips as you both pulled away from the kiss.

“I didn't do anything.” He replied in an innocent tone, kissing you briefly before pulling away to feed the cat. “I think this kid has been eating cookie dough because he doesn't want to eat his food.”

“He's an unruly kitten, just like his daddy.” You said as you watched Spencer pet him and laugh at your bad joke.

The two of you had officially been together for almost a year, but you had known each other for much longer. A coffee shop tucked away in the middle of town was the best place for an FBI agent and you, a news reporter, to meet and start talking. From the beginning, you knew there was something different about Spencer, and it was much more than the fact that he was the only man in the country who didn't know you because he didn't watch television and therefore the news you had anchored for years. He didn't care that your face was what people saw every day and that put you in the spotlight, he liked you for who you were and how you thought about the world.

“I think they'll be ready in a few minutes.” You reported after putting a tray of cookies in the oven.

You were about to ask your boyfriend where he kept the dishes, but when you turned around, you noticed he was still playing with the cat and you couldn't help but smile at how relaxed he seemed. It had been a good idea to convince him to adopt the animal that always followed you home and peeked out of the fire escape. Nothing made you happier than seeing him happy, so you followed your instincts and noticed that the kitchen was still organized as usual. You may not have lived with Spencer yet, but you spent more time in his apartment than yours and had already memorized how a couple of things worked, though you were afraid to tell him because you knew he had trouble opening up too much and taking such big steps in a relationship so quickly.

All your attention was on picking out the prettiest plates and pots for the cookies when his phone rang over the counter. Your hands were still dirty with flour and dough, so you didn't hand it to him and could only read that it was Penelope before you saw him answer.

“Yes, I'm with her now. We're making cookies, and yes, I'll bring you some. Yes, she says hello to you too.” You listened as Spencer repeated into the phone with an encouraging tone.

You barely listened to his conversation because you were nervous it was about work and that he would have to leave so soon.

“You're out of milk, I'm going to the supermarket downstairs.” You informed him quietly after checking the fridge, not wanting to interrupt his conversation. “I won't be long.” You finished, giving him a chaste kiss on the lips before leaving.

He couldn't help but smile like a fool at the kiss and stopped listening to his friend's voice on the other end of the phone for several seconds.

“The full profile was leaked to the press, along with details about the crime scenes.” Garcia's voice brought her feet back to the ground.

“What? How?” He asked blankly, needing to sit down to process the information. “We were very careful.”

Spencer thought the case was already closed, he had filled out the profile himself, they had everything they needed to make the arrest, and Emily had insisted on giving him the night off for it.

“We don't know, but it was on the evening news.”

Wait, the evening news? They were the ones you presented every day. It was strange that you hadn't mentioned it, since you'd just come home from work a few hours earlier, happy about your raise.

“Which channel was the first? Who gave the scoop?” His voice trembled slightly, as if he was a little afraid of the answer because his mind was telling him something he didn't like.

There was a long silence for a few seconds and his anxiety increased.

“You need to calm down and not jump to conclusions.” Penelope tried to be the voice of reason at the time and sugarcoated things a bit. But he insisted that he wanted to know. “She said so...she broke the news a few hours ago and I think that was the first network to do it.”

His whole world seemed to crumble before his eyes again and everything was a blur amidst the feeling of betrayal and bitterness that gripped his body. Every thread in his mind began to connect in just a few seconds, and for the first time in a long time, he hated having that ability.

“Reid, listen, I don't think it was her. Emily said we'd fix it, but you should know before you watch the news.” She tried to defuse the situation, but his words only made them feel more betrayed. “I forgot to tell you before because I didn't want to ruin anything, you looked so happy.”

Since meeting you, Spencer had watched at least a minute of the evening news every day just to see you, and everyone knew it. Only today he hadn't because he'd been busy trying to finish the damn profile so he could get off early and spend some time with you.

“We don't want you to jump to conclusions, we all know her and I don't think she would do this. Maybe it's a mix-up or...”

“Don't do that, don't try to make me feel better when she's the only one I tell about the cases.”

And about absolutely everything. He always talked to you about his dreams, his deepest fears, his hopes for the future, his worst moments, and even things he never thought to say out loud, even to his therapist. All his life he had felt silenced until you showed up to listen to even the most complex thought and his mental discussion of possible names for the cat you both shared and treated like a son.

Since his release from prison, his view of the world and himself had changed. He no longer felt worthy of love or anything good until you came along and insisted on entering his heart and saving him from the emptiness he faced every time he woke up in that dark, lonely apartment that you came to fill with light and the smell of cookies.

It weighed heavily on his heart that the bad thoughts that always haunted him made sense.

“I'll be there soon.” He finished, not paying attention to the thousand and one possible explanations and theories Penelope had given him so as not to blame you for everything.

He ended the call and walked quickly to the bedroom to find your computer for answers. You had been staying with him for several days and always used it for work, so it was on the nightstand. He was about to turn it on when the sound of the front door startled him and let him know you were back.

“Spencer? Where are you? Do you want to play hide and seek?” Your voice echoed through the apartment, coming closer and closer to the room.

There was no movement or sound from him, just silence, until you entered the room and saw him sitting on the bed with your computer in his hands. You couldn't help but be a little startled by his expression.

“Are you okay, love? You scared me.” You spoke as you approached him and took his hand lovingly. “Do you need to use my computer? It's out of battery, but the charger is in my bag.”

The strange thing was that Spencer didn't return your affectionate squeeze, he didn't even kiss your hand like he always did. He just froze in place and looked at you as if he was waiting for you to confess to a crime.

“Is something wrong?” You sat down in front of him and grabbed his chin to force him to look at you.

He looked at you for a few seconds and clenched his jaw, pulling away from your touch as if it burned him. “You tell me.”

Confusion washed over you and you bit your lip, trying to think of something that could have changed everything so suddenly. For a second you thought that maybe something had happened at Spencer's work and he had to go now, but his expression and his teary eyes said much more than that. Something serious had happened, you even thought it might be his mother and your heart shrank.

“I know what you did.”

You frowned at his words, trying to find some trace of a joke in all this. “What have I done?”

Once again, the room was filled with silence and his piercing gaze. You made a feeble attempt to approach him to give him some comfort as he looked like he was about to cry, but he rejected you and moved further away from you. He got up from the bed, put the computer down and looked at you as if he expected you to be the one to give the explanation.

“I don't understand this, baby. I really don't know.” You got out of bed and tried to get closer to him.

At your action, he backed away from you.

“Don't call me 'baby'. Don't pretend you don't know what you've done.”

The problem was, you didn't know what you'd done to give him that attitude. It had only been a few minutes since you left and everything was fine, so it didn't make sense that he was suddenly angry.

“I should have seen it coming before, how could I not, why would someone like you notice me? You obviously wanted this, you wanted to use me to get that raise and have all the fresh information.” Finally he seemed to react and started to blurt out everything that was on his mind without any filter. “I was an idiot to think you loved me.”

The confusion in your bright eyes only made things worse for him. His defense mechanism told him that you were an actress, that you must have known him well enough to manipulate him for so long and not even flinch. It made all the sense in the world that the whole perfect relationship you had was a sham, because he never understood how you, who had the fame and beauty to be with any man in the world, could have chosen him, a former addict who had spent months in jail and had more trauma than happy memories, to be your partner.

You took a step toward him, trying to process what he had just said. “I do, you know I love you.”

“Come on, you don't have to pretend anymore, I already know that you leaked the information I gave you about the profile.” He said after pacing the room a few times, trying to control his anger. “And maybe how many times you did the same.”

“Wait, you think I'm some kind of spy or something...you're joking, right?” You tried to make sense of his words, wanting to believe again that it was a joke. It had to be, or the pain you felt in your heart at his rejection would definitely kill you.

The silence that followed his words was enough to know that he was serious.

“You're the only person outside the team I talk to about cases all the time. And you magically get a raise when there's a big leak.” His every word was like a knife in your heart, digging deeper and deeper. “You even broke the news a few hours ago, you're unbelievable.”

That was too much, and it was the move that pierced your heart with the knife.

“Do you really think the only way I can get a raise is to betray you? That I've been pretending for almost a year that I love you for my own benefit? Do you really think I can stoop so low and that my job is worth so little?” You asked him almost pleadingly, as if begging him to tell you no, but in vain. “Tell me it's not so, please. Tell me you don't distrust me.”

Silence. Lots of silence.

“Please...”

He said nothing again and that was answer enough for you. You loved Spencer Reid like you'd never loved anyone before, but you weren't going to let this go. You weren't going to keep begging him to believe you when you told the truth and never gave him reason to doubt.

“Fine. I hope you don't have to come back to me when you realize you made a mistake and ended up with the best you had.”

The pained look you gave him and the tears streaming down your cheeks stayed in his mind as you left your apartment keys on the table and walked away, closing the door behind you at the same time as the oven beeped.

His smile could not have been more nonexistent at that moment.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #matthew gray gubler

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messylxve · 6 months ago

Text

rings | aaron hotchner x reader

content warnings: unedited, reader is has a daughter, pre-established relationship, implied SA, me lowkey supporting women’s rights and wrongs

credit to @saradika-graphics for divider

All eyes were on you.

The final moments of this investigation boiled down to this interrogation between you and a woman; a mother.

All eyes were on you in the interrogation room. You could feel it even through the one-way mirror. All eyes except for her’s, that was.

She eyed that pretty little gold band wrapped around the ring finger of your left hand.

“Mrs. Anderson,” you pressed. “Where. Is. Your husband?”

“Don’t call me that,” the disheveled woman snapped, finally looking to you. “Anderson. I despise that name.”

You didn’t react.

“Miss Levigne, you’ve killed three men and you are holding another hostage. Don’t think for another moment that withholding information will help you. Tell us where he is.”

Her eye fell back down to that ring, her frown deepening. “That’s a pretty ring you have there, Agent.” Her voice was nothing but a croak.

“Levigne…”

“Is it a wedding band?”

Your eyes flickered for a moment to the mirror, but you only saw yourself.

This was the most the woman had spoken since taken in.

“Engagement ring,” you answered shortly.

A whisper of a smile fell upon her lips and a bittersweet note played in her eyes. “Do you have children?”

Your finger twitched.

There was something in her eyes that softened. Something so motherly and saddening.

“A daughter,” you just barely whispered.

A sigh escaped her lips. “You love her. All parents should love and protect their children.”

Miss Levigne leaned in close. Not for intimidation, but as if she was sharing a secret.

“Would you do anything to protect your little girl?”

“Yes.”

Your voice felt raw now, vulnerable.

“I did everything I could to do the same.” She let it out in one harrowing breath. “You need to promise me something.”

She reached out for your hand but was cut short by the cuffs tethered to the table.

You met her in the middle.

“Promise me that man doesn’t touch my child ever again. Promise me that he’ll pay for hurting my baby.”

Tears pricked at your eyes but never fell.

“I promise.” Your words had never been truer.

Leaving that room, you were reminded that all eyes were on you.

“There’s a hidden basement in her house,” you announced, but finding your eyes immediately on Hotch.

You could see that saddening hint in his eyes as he rebuilt that wall of stoic professionalism.

“Let’s go,” he announced, Emily and Rossi now hot on his tail. Morgan stayed behind just a pace slower.

“Hey,” he called softly, grasping your elbow. “Why’d you lie?”

Your response came quick.

“I didn’t.”

On the jet, you listened to your music. Your arms were crossed and your leg bounced anxiously as you reread the same line of writing for the millionth time.

With another sigh, flipped the file shut, but as your hand fell to your side, you felt it get engulfed in warmed.

Looking down, you saw Hotch’s had wrap around yours.

You forgot how much you yearned for these fleeting moments of affection.

You didn’t need to look up at him to know he knew how you felt.

“Mr. Anderson will be investigated,” Emily announced, walking down the aisle of the jet before settling in the seat across the aisle from you.

“However, Daisy will be placed with Miss Levinge’s sister and her wife. No one will mess with her there.”

A bright smile eased onto your lips, a sigh of release relieving you. “That’s amazing.”

Emily smiled, nodding at the woman as Morgan filled in the seat in front of you, not minding Hotch as he pretended to read the file. Your entangled hands were clear from sight.

“What about you?” A teasing smile played at his lips.

Your eyebrows dipped down in mock confusion. “What about me?”

“You never told us you were engaged.”

“Or that you had a kid,” Spencer added, placing down his book in curiosity.

“Yeah,” JJ joined in. “What gives?”

Yours eyes flickered over to Hotch you watched the conversation in amusement, not saying a word.

You shrugged knowingly. “You never asked.”

Even through the mini-uproar your response got, you couldn’t help but smile, knowing Aaron’s smile matched yours.

He squeezed your hand even tighter, and you squeezed right back.

BONUS!!

You returned home early that night, Aaron’s car pulling up right behind yours.

“Hi handsome,” you smiled, watching him circle his own car and settle in front of you.

“Hi.”

His smile was soft and warm as he leaned in, placing a loving kiss to your lips.

You brought your arms to his shoulders, pulling him in even closer.

“I missed you,” you hummed against his lips, taking your hands through his hair.

“Really? What if I say I love you instead?”

You backed away from this kiss, forcing your eyes wide. “Oh I’d run for the hills.”

Aaron rolled his eyes, pulling you into yet one more kiss. “C’mon. Jack is staring us down from the window.”

You two walked into the house and all the horrors of the day washed away. It was all forgotten as the excited screaming of two children barreled towards you two: Jack jumping into your arms and your daughter in Aaron’s.

You couldn’t help but smile at this beautiful thing you had.

taglist: @mackannkees

#criminal minds #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotch fic #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x reader #agent hotchner #aaron hotch fluff #hotchner x reader #ssa aaron hotchner #criminal minds hotch #jack hotchner #hotch x you #aaron hotch x you

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irndad · 2 years ago

Note

hi im back! okey so def can see spencer still wanting to hug and snuggle with you even when fighting or mad at each other. he even gets genuinely ??? confused ??? when you try to sleep on the couch instead of in bed at night. he holds you and either reader or him is like "i know we are snuggling right now but i am still super pissed off at you." lol i can just see it. he may be petty when mad but he wont stop trying to touch you bc its a biological need of his and no argument is more important than needing you 🥺

enjoy this I did it very fast!!!! ily

He knows he’s not easy to be with sometimes. She would never say it, but it’s true. He doesn’t always get the jokes, sometimes pushes things too far and without even knowing it the ground gets pulled out from under him.

And sleep- Sleep is so complicated. The memory of the first time she slept in his bed is etched into a place he could never erase. Spencer had always had trouble sleeping, either fear or alertness plaguing him into the late hours of the night. He used to lie awake, the kind of exhausted that feels like it’s seeping out of your bones, while constantly facts he’d unwittingly memorized about how sleep deprivation can cause brain damage.

But then she’d come into his life. All soft words and gentle disposition, and there really is something magic about the way that everything just dissipates when her warm, soft body curves into his own. He’s slept well almost every night since.

Except today, she isn’t coming to bed.

It’s his fault, and he knows it. He wasn’t being fair. She hadn’t seen him for two weeks (and he hadn’t slept nearly enough without the weight of her form beside him since the last time he saw her) and she’d said that she wanted to be prioritized more.

“I haven’t seen you in weeks, Spence!”

His head was killing him. Was it actually possible, for a headache to kill you? Her voice is audibly upset, and it’s alarming how he could be the cause of it.

“Please,” he had said through labored effort, “Can we talk about this later?”

“When would you like to talk about it? Because I don’t ever know if you’re leaving-“

“Do you even know what it is that I do? That it’s not a choice for me to go? I have to do this. I can’t pick and choose and honestly, I don’t want to. If you don’t get that, we’re not doing what I thought we were doing.”

It sounds foreign, his own voice. And it’s after he’s said it that the sick taste reaches his throat because oh, that means the end. Her lovely face is unreadable for a brief moment, before something like grief splays over her expression.

It’s silent for a beat, and Spencer wishes he could swallow the words back up, rewind his life like a battered VHS tape where he’s not so stupid to mess up the one thing that’s ever brought him peace.

“You’re not yourself, Spencer. I’m gonna give you a minute.”

A minute, it turns out, is hours in the living room. She hadn’t left, thank fucking god, but she hadn’t come back. Of course she hadn’t. She wasn’t the one who needed to apologize.

He’s just so tired.

He thinks of her so-sweet voice, the curve of cheek- the junction of her neck and shoulder, and how much he would like to have her pressed against him. He pads out into the living room like a nervous puppy, and sees her sleeping on the olive green couch she had picked out. Her hair was splayed across the arm of the sofa, and her head laid on a throw pillow, their fuzziest blanket draped across her form.

His first thought is how low he’s dropped, that he’s jealous of a blanket.

His second his that she is not coming to bed. He sits beside her gingerly, and the scent of her body wash lingers in the air.

“Are you planning on coming to bed?”

“I didn’t think you’d want me to.” He can tell she wants to sound cold, but the truth is much worse; she sounds guarded.

“I always want you to.” It’s the most honest thing he’s said today, and it’s just not fair, how much he revolves around her. How he has waited 14 days, 13 hours and 34 minutes to hold her again and managed to ruin it within the first 20 minutes of having seen her again. He grabs her hand, soft and pliant against his in a way that almost makes his heart leap. “Please? Come to bed?”

Her gaze softens, the warmth and light that guides him back in her eyes, and he hopes his relief isn’t too visible. It’s then that she drinks him in. It feels too revealing like she can see right through him. His clothes are old. He’d rushed off the jet to see her, and the half moon circles under his eyes only lend to the unimpressive picture of himself.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she breathes, touching the side of his face. He instantly leans into it, the contact more than he’d be willing to give up to save his dignity. “Come here.”

She wraps her arms around him, and he pulls her into his lap, squeezing her tight to his chest, like she might disappear.

“I’m still mad at you,” she says, looking at him with such affection it betrays her words.

“That’s okay,” he says into her collarbone, “As long as I still have you.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds fanfic

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dalamjisung · 4 months ago

Text

A muted shade of green ✧ Chapter 2: He's not yours to keep

genre: more angst than fluff, but I swear fluff is coming up next!

word count: 5562

pairing: reader x spencer reid

description: you are trying to make sense of all this mess, but it's time to learn that, sometimes, things are just messy and chaotic and you have to learn to look for the silver linings.

a muted shade of green masterlist

previous chapter // next chapter

author's note: I am absolutely over the moon with the response I've gotten on this series and I'm really thankful for all the love and support <3 if you want to join the taglist for this series, please let me know in the comments!

You don’t usually dream.

Well, actually, if you tell Spencer that, he will say that you’re wrong– you do dream, you just don’t remember it. It’s common, not really recalling the scenes your brain conjure, Spencer would say; it can be due to a series of factors including high levels of stress and poor sleep. He would then tell you to stay home for a day, read a good book, and drink one of his fancy teas Penelope got for him a long time ago.

But the thing is, Spencer can’t really tell you any of it.

Not when you seem to be avoiding him even inside his own home.

It starts after you wake up still in his armchair, feeling exhausted and disgustingly sticky, you finally have a couple of moments to yourself. Spencer is still sleeping, and you’re actually surprised to see him stretched out on the couch– his tie is throw on his coffee table, the purple colour suddenly too bright in the dim apartment, but otherwise, still wearing the same clothes he had on yesterday. You don’t understand why he didn’t change into pyjamas, but then again, you don’t understand much of anything right now.

So you go through the facts.

One by one, you list them in your mind– and little by little it dawns on you just how bad this really is. It’s hard, conceptualising that this is reality; that you really do have a psychopath targeting you. It’s the kind of thing that you only saw in those TV shows you loved to binge on late night, the kind of thing you read on the newspaper, happening to other people, but never really you. Except, it is happening to you, and you are not sure what to do next. Do you just sit and wait for her to make a move? Do you continue to live your life normally? How? How are you supposed to ignore the fact that a, as Agent Hotchner had described her, ‘prolific serial killer’ might know who are?

“Oh my god,” You whisper to yourself, head falling in your hands. The watch on your wrist, an old, analogue thing your mom had given you before you left New York, is pointing to a time you would never have been awake before. 5:23 in the morning. The sun is not even up yet and you have hours before you have to open the store, but then again, you have to clean the mess that was left behind due to your rushed departure from it. You wince, disgusted at the thought of having to clean old vomit from the floor, and disgusted with the bitter taste it left behind. Right now, you are a shell of a human being and you need to get yourself back together.

You follow a familiar routine of recovery. It’s something you’ve done before and something you will surely have to do again, and it all starts with a simple list.

Firstly, you need to get up. You need to stretch your legs, throw them to the side, and stand. You need to walk, remind your self that you can still make your own path even if it’s only to the bathroom down the hall.

Then, you need to brush your teeth. The bitter taste stuck to your mouth makes you wince with memories that you want to bury.

Showering would be your third step, but this is not your home. This is not your space, and these are not your things.

A pettier side of you, one that is bothered and angry and irritated in a superficial level, wants to march back out to the living room, as loudly as you can, and shake Spencer away. You want to wake him up at the crack of dawn and make him share your torment, because in some level, even if you try to push against it, you blame him. Deep inside, you know that there is a big difference between the two– between blaming him and it being his fault. One is purposeful, conscious; it’s a decision you take and lay on his head. If you blame him, you commit yourself to hate him. The latter, however, is a fact. It’s irrefutable and immutable as the fact that you need air to live. It is his fault, but it was not his goal.

“He didn’t mean it, but it’s still his fault,” You whisper to yourself, pushing yourself off the sink to try and figure out his shower. It is his house, that’s a fact. But you also deserve a nice, warm shower, and that is another fact. He pushed you to come stay with him, so you need to also push yourself to feel comfortable in this space that feels so foreign to your senses. “He didn’t mean it, but it’s still his fault.”

The words become your mantra. He didn’t mean it, but it’s still his fault. Somewhere in you, you know you have what it takes to forgive, but you just don’t have what it’s needed to forget. By repeating those words, you allow your brain to slowly process this situation as what it is– something that happened because of him, but not by him. As much as you want someone to blame, someone to scream at, Spencer Reid just isn’t that person.

It takes you a moment to realise you don’t really have a towel or any of your products here, and using Spencer’s shampoo just feels… odd. Like an invasion of his space almost. “Oh thank god for you, Spencer,” You sighed, happy to see the pairing of shampoo and conditioner sitting perfectly on the corner. His hair had been one of the first things you noticed about him, all chestnut and shaggy and longish, but you are aware that not every man knows the basic of self-care. There is something about the way his smell takes over the bathroom, floating with the evaporation of the warm water hitting your skin, makes you smile. You feel closer to Spencer than you’ve ever been, and that is when your sense of danger hits. Your heart starts speeding, and your breathing is suddenly really shallow, and you’re trying to come out of the shower, to breathe in cold air, but all you get is humid mist and you can’t breathe, you can’t breathe at all, you can’t–

“Spencer!” You gasp, eyes wide in desperation once your legs feel like they might just give out. Scrambling to hold yourself up, your hands knock over some things in the counter, making more noise on top of the running shower. “SPENCER!”

“What? What? What– oh my god,” The door slams against the wall and back, almost hitting him on the side when he crouched down next to your naked, curled up body. It’s quite unnatural for you to witness, him jumping into action so fast, like he is trained to make these decisions in a split second. But then you remember that he actually is trained to make these quick choices– like grabbing the towel before anything else, covering you without a single quip about your nakedness; like sitting you up and putting your back against the wall; like turning off the shower and sitting back down right next to you, breathing deeply and loudly. It’s unconscious, how you let your breathing fall in line with his, and it takes a moment to realise he’s doing this on purpose. “Y/N, are you okay?”

“No,” You whisper, shaking from either the cold or the nerves or both. There are goosebumps all over your legs, the towel not covering you much from the top of your thighs down. “Spencer, I’m not okay. I’m… Until yesterday, you were just the adorable guy who shared my love for books. Y-You’d come into the store smiling and we’d talk and talk and– and now I have a serial killer possibly tracking me. How am I supposed to be okay? I’m so scared… oh god, I’m so scared, Spencer…” The one thing you are proud, amidst your utter embarrassment, is that you are not crying anymore. You still sound a bit rough, throat tired and hurting, and there is no energy left in you and he can hear that, you know he can, because when your voice echoes in the silent bathroom, kicking from wall to wall, you hear it too– the exhaustion and the numbness and the emptiness left behind.

“I-I’m still that guy,” He stutters, head falling down in shame but voice still twinged with something resembling hope. “I love books. I love talking to you about books, I love going to your store first thing in the morning. I’m still this guy, I just… I just happen to work for the FBI.”

“Yeah, but I… I think that after having my life turned upside down because of a serial killer who has a crush on you, I’m just not that same girl.”

That is the last time you talk to him that day.

—————————————

Actually, that was the last time you talked to him that entire week.

After he dropped you at the store that day and you were forced to face the embarrassing remnants of your lowest moment in life, moping old vomit from the floor, that feeling of turmoil in your chest died down. It settled. And it hardened.

He tried making conversation on the walk back to his, but you’re clearly not up for it, so his voice slowed down, getting lower and lower, until it stopped altogether. This time, you shower before bed and make a beeline to the armchair again, letting Spencer’s begs and pleas for you to sleep on the bed fall in deft ears.

For five days, you two don’t talk.

It’s a dance of chaos, how you step around each other at the apartment, and seeing him biting his words back or catching a glimpse of the bags under his eyes makes you feel guilty; of course it does. But you know that you can’t help him right now. Even if you were to forgive him, to force your mercy onto the situation, it wouldn’t be genuine. It would give him a false sense of relief while you’d forever be uncomfortable next to him, and you don’t want that. You don’t want to feel on edge next to Spencer, you don’t want to feel nauseous and scared when you’re with him. You want to talk about books and coffee and favourite places to order take out from. Instead, all you get to do is talk about her.

It would be a lie to say you don’t feel slightly jealous with the way that his mind seems to be so wrapped around Cat Adams. The imposed talking ban is hard on you both, that much you know, but the more Spencer let it happen, the more he let it stretch out and continue, the more you feel like maybe he doesn’t care that much. Maybe what is hard for him is the awkward tension trapped in his own apartment, rather than the pain of seeing each other so close yet not being able to laugh like you used to. And you know– you know how ridiculous your thought are, how childish you’re acting, but you can’t really blame yourself for being so on edge lately, not when your emotions are so zip and zapping through your body like thunder and lightening.

There are exceptions, though. In this case three exceptions, three moments in a day in which he brakes the ban, and you, for once, allow yourself some weakness.

“Good morning,” Is moment one. He says that every day, when he blinks himself awake on the couch. Ever since you’ve been there, a total of six days now, Spencer has slept on the couch, right next to the armchair you’ve claimed as your own. For these, you meet his eyes and nod, as if saying same to you.

Breakfast is quiet. He makes coffee and you make eggs, because despite you being there under forced circumstances, you are not going to be ungrateful and so you pay him back by getting groceries and cooking most meals. Which leads you to exception number two– the moment when he drops you at the bookstore.

You two walk there at 8 and he’s gone by 8:07, giving you enough time to mumble a “Be safe,” and give him his lunch for the day. He tried telling you that you didn’t have to cook for him, but you don’t really listen. As pathetic as it seems, this is the one way you’ve found to keep what you two had before, alive.

The third exception is the one that truly breaks your heart, again and again. It’s when he gets home, and he looks exhausted, and his hands fidget with the files he holds close to his chest. You are the first thing he looks for, and you almost melt at the way his shoulders visibly relax when he spots you– always ready for bed, always in the armchair. He stopped trying to come get you at the bookstore at night once you’ve agreed to let the officers walk you home. The spare key he added to your keychain should hold a bigger meaning than it does, though it feels like it does hold a bigger weight. A means to an end, you tell yourself every time you unlock his front door. This is just a means to an end. “Thank you,” he will then say, before he even moves to the kitchen to see whatever it was on the plate you had made and set in the microwave for him. “And good night.” By then, you’re already semi-asleep and you don’t really say anything.

You never thought you would miss these forbidden exceptions when they’re gone.

You know that travel is a big part of Spencer’s job, but with all that is going on, you never really considered the fact that he might need to leave for a few days. At least not until he calls you, right before you lock the store. The irregularity of it all has you scrambling to pick it up. “Spencer?” You barely whisper, voice cracking in half as little by little, you freeze up. The sensation is like ice running through your veins, burning it’s way to your heart until it makes it stop. “Spencer? Are you okay?”

“I’m okay,” He quickly answers, voice rushed in a way that makes you relax. He always talks fast and you find it incredibly endearing, even during these times apart. “I’m okay, it’s okay. I’m calling because we got a case.”

“Uh, okay?”

“Y/N, that means they need us in Ohio. Today.” He seems almost hesitant to tell you he needs to leave the state.

And you are as hesitant to accept it. “Oh,” You mumble, suddenly needing to making sure the officer assigned to you is still outside and ready to go. “Okay. Do… Do you need clothes or something?”

Spencer’s chuckle almost makes it all okay. Almost. “No, thank you. I just– I want you to be comfortable, okay? Feel free to sleep in my bed and do anything you want to do, I don’t mind! Feel at home! Just… be comfortable.”

For a second you nod, forgetting he can’t see you right now. “Okay. Thank you.”

“And Y/N?”

“Yeah?” You started biting your nails when you were twelve and middle school was kicking your ass. To this day, right now, you still bite them when you’re nervous.

“It’s good hearing your voice.”

Going home and knowing he won’t be there is not as comforting as you thought it could be. The two of you are not speaking and the constant walking on egg shells does get tiring, so you try to rationalise this as something that is just not that bad. Maybe Spencer going on his mysterious trips is not that bad anymore. Before, your curiosity was your downfall– you worried he had gotten sick or worse. However, you don’t think knowing the truth is much better. The nature of his job is incredibly dangerous, and you don’t even know much about it. Now, you still worry, that much hasn’t changed. What has changed, though, is that getting sick would be considered lucky. Right now, you worried about the ‘or worse’.

Your mom’s voice fills the empty space for a while. She texted you a couple of days ago and you just now got around to calling. “Sweetheart, how do we switch to video again? I want to see your face.” Alarm bells sound off in your mind and you immediately shut down the idea. “Sorry mom, I can’t right now. I’ll video call you tomorrow, okay? I’m cooking dinner right now.” Her worry is that of a mother, comforting like a blanket and familiar like a home. It is not, though, the worry you want.

For obvious reasons, you don’t tell her what’s going on, much rather preferring to tell her about the mundane things that keep you going. “And I sold out of the book!” You say, a short-lived excitement running through you. “It’s quite exciting, mom– since I opened the shop I have never sold out of anything! This is a first!”

“That’s amazing, sweetie!” She says, and you can’t help but wonder how Spencer would’ve reacted to the news if he was there. It’s only then that you realise you’re halfway through making him a plate for when he comes home, except he won’t be back until the case is complete and you gulp, too aware of the common noises you hear around you.

This is when you realise how much you miss you Spencer. And how much, even if unconsciously, he makes you feel comfortable and safe. You thought it was the apartment, but now, by yourself, laying on the armchair yet again, you feel vulnerable and exposed. Footsteps can be heard from time to time, neighbours getting home or leaving for the night, and every time, without a fault, you hold your breath and wait. Maybe the door will open and she will be there, or maybe it will be another delivery. God, it could be anything– a letter, flowers, another box. Knowing that Cat Adams had such easy access to Spencer’s apartment is enough to get you up and running to his room.

Green. The walls are green, muted and cozy, and you smile even when your eyes sting with tears. There is a hole in your heart right now and it’s Spencer shaped. “God,” You groan, rubbing your tears clean so aggressively that it hurts. “When did things get so fucked up?”

There’s no real answer to that, and you if you think any longer about this, your brain might just implode. For now, all you need is to sleep, but that won’t happen for a while; not with the way your heart speeds up at every crackle coming from his old, metal heather. Still, the chill air of Autumn seeps in through the walls, and you shiver. I want you to be comfortable, Spencer had said before leaving, and you might be crossing some boundaries right now, but you need him close to feel comfortable. You might not be able to get him, but the next best thing you have right now is one of his sweaters, and you have no qualms about opening his wardrobe and grabbing the first thing you find. Ironically enough, it’s an FBI Academy hoodie, though you can’t really imagine Spencer and all his formal glory in a hoodie. You put it on, nonetheless, shutting the door with your foot and just as you turn around, your eyes catch sight of something. Something big, and beige, and bone chilling.

The box.

In the heat of the moment, you simply thought he had throw it away. Hell, it would’ve made sense to throw it away! What the fuck was that box doing there…? With a shaky breath, you open the wardrobe door again, hoping, praying, that you were actually hallucinating and that what you saw was nothing but a shoe box or a bag. “God, please, be a bag, be a bag…” Safe to say, your words are in vain. “Fuck, Spencer, what is wrong with you?”

You’re shaking when you pull the box out of its hiding place, breathing shallow and fast. Reason escapes you as you quickly open it, not worried about how it was or even about putting it back in place; if it was up to you, this box would’ve been gone a long time ago. Clearly, it had not been up to you. “Oh my god, I’m going to be sick.”

Expectations are a tricky thing to deal with. When it comes to your life, you never expected anything big. You know your limitation better than anyone and the largest you’ve dreamt before was the store. You didn’t expect an FBI agent. You didn’t expect a serial killer. And you certainly didn’t expect a box full of sex toys. “What the…” You don’t want to touch them, not with your bare hands, but it looks like there are tens of toys in there, varying in shapes and sizes and colours. It makes you wonder… last he told you, her games are psychological and manipulative. From what you are seeing, though, this is incredibly physical. This is about touch and intimacy and… fuck. This is about connection. You don’t have to be a profiler to know that, not when you are so secretive about your own toys, hidden in the back of your besides drawer away from unwanted eyes. It’s a private thing, and only people you trusted, people you let into your life, knew about them.

Before you know what you’re doing, you rush to find your phone. It’s somewhere in the house, and you need to find it, you need to call him. “Pick up,” You whisper when you finally find it in the living room, under your favourite blanket on the chair. Even your fingers are shaking, vision a bit blurred from the adrenaline rushing through you– you feel like you’re in danger, and you don’t know what to do. “Spence, pick up, pick up, please pick up–“

“Hello?” You almost cry when you hear his raspy voice on the other side. It doesn’t make you feel any better to think that you might just have woken him up.

“Spencer,” You whine, embarrass with how needy you sound. The nice officer that brought you home is standing outside the door, and you could’ve gone to him– could’ve opened the door, asked him to stay inside, talk to him a little. Or you could’ve called Penelope. She had given you her number with promises that more often then not, she stayed behind to work from the BAU office. There is no place safer than my office, she had promised you, but how do you tell her that the problem is not your environment, it’s not where you are or what you’re doing… how do you tell her that the problem is you? She might not understand it so you don’t even dare try to explain it. You don’t dare to give her and the team this part of yourself too and you shut your mouth with a firm hand over your lips.

Memories of a life you left behind flash behind your eyes, and you whimper, hugging your knees to your chest while you hear him desperately calling for you. As far as you can, you kick that godforsaken box away from you. “Y/N?! Y/N, say something, please! Are you okay? Y/N!”

“I’m here,” You whisper, pushing your hair away from your face. “I’m here.’

“What’s going on?”

“Spencer, I–” A moment of regret and hesitation makes you pause. What can he even do all the way from Ohio? “I want to go home.”

You’re not his priority.

You’ll never be his priority.

There is no point to this.

“…did something happen?” This is the Spencer you know– voice soft and guarded– and for a second it feels like you two are getting to know each other all over again. “Did officer Kaper make you uncomfortable? I’ll ask for a change of guard, I’ll–“

“N-No,” You cut him off with a shaky exhale. Your head falls on your free hand, finger tangled with your messy hair, and you tug on it. Sharply, the tingly pain on your scalp grounds you for a second, brings you back to this situation you created. “No, Spence, no no no, I just want to go home, I need to go home, I–“

“Y/N, breathe,” He coaches you as gently as he can, voice stable and strong, everything you seem to be lacking. “You’re going to set yourself off in a panic again if you don’t breathe. You’re safe in my apartment, okay? I know it’s not the same as being home, I know, but you’re safe there!”

“You’re not here, Spence!”

There is a moment of silence for both of you. “You’re not here and you didn’t throw that fucking box away,” You whisper, keeping the moment something in between just the two of you. It’s enough that you are falling apart like this in front of Spencer, you don’t need officer Kaper bursting in the door to witness this too.

“You found the box,” He sighs. This is the first time you notice just how tired he sounds.

“I found the box,” You confirm, sniffling in a stubborn attempt to not start crying all over again.

“It’s evidence. I can’t throw it away, Y/N.”

“Why is it here?”

“I’ve been working on the case on my free time and it just made sense to keep it at home…”

“Spence, I want to go home. I don’t feel safe,” You admit, shaking your head. “I don’t feel safe here when you’re not here, Spence, I want to go home.”

“I thought you hated me.”

“Spencer…” He has a point, though, and you know it. This is the first time you two speak in days, the first time you experience this type of comfort again, but it’s still not enough. He’s still not here, next to you, watching over you. He’s still not with you. “Spencer, I’m sorry.”

“Silly girl, why are you apologising?” He asks, chuckling on the other side and you can picture him– you can see him shaking his head, hair falling around his pretty face like a perfect picture frame when his eyes, pure honey with specks of green, search for yours. Yeah… you can imagine it to perfection, almost like you are the one with eidetic memory. “This is all my fault. And I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you, Y/N and I’m trying to protect you, so I need you to stay there, okay? I need you to stay in my apartment, please.”

You don’t know what to tell him. Your eyes wander around the room, looking at all the details he left behind without even noticing. There is a copy of Dostoevsky on the bed side table. I hate Russian literature, you remember telling him once. He was in the shop, bringing you coffee, when you caught a glimpse of a book you certainly didn’t sell him. And I’m appalled you’ve been buying books somewhere else. The way he laughed then, like his biggest problem in the world was explaining to you that this had been a gift from a friend and that he would never betray your trust like this. What do you hate so much about it?, he had asked, leaning over the counter and into you, eager to debate this topic he loved so much. I hate that it’s all about suffering. Even the moments of realisation and self-improvement, they are all through suffering and misery. And of course he had a retort to that, fingers twitching with his enthusiasm. But it’s contextual, you see! Those were written in time of civil unrest and political chaos, and it makes sense to have characters and plot lines that revolve around suffering when that is all you know from the world around you. To this day, your answer paralyses you. I’m a believer in silver linings and happy endings. And not because I’m naive or ignorant, but because the world around me has made me believe that there must be something better out there. Isn’t that nicer?

“Y/N, please tell me you’ll stay there, I need you to stay there.”

His words almost escape you, but you catch them in the very last minute. It gives you a glimpse into a side of him he has yet to show you, and it absolutely shatters your heart in bits. I need you to stay there, he had said. Not you need to stay there, but I need you to stay there. Suddenly, you realise that this– all of this, the relocation, the involvement of the FBI, the dropping off and picking up– is not just for you.

“I’ll stay here,” Whispering with him like this helps. “I’ll stay. I’m sorry I woke you up.”

“Don’t be. I’m happy you called.”

“I’ll let you go back to sleep, but Spence?”

“Yeah?”

“Be safe. I need you back here.”

“I’ll be home in no time.”

For a second, you trust him. You trust everything will be okay, that you can make everything okay until he gets back, and then you’ll pass the responsibility onto him. For a second, you trust him, but you also trust yourself.

Everything will be okay.

You fall asleep like this; wearing his hoodie and hugging your phone, nose buried on his pillow in hopes to dream of him. The sun wakes you up, and there are birds chirping at your window. Despite the heaviness you feel in you and dooming headache you know will settle soon, the romantic in you believes that today will be a good day. That today will be an okay day.

“Miss Y/L/N? It’s officer Kaper.”

The knock doesn’t scare you anymore. On days one through three it had you jumping on air, heart about to stop from how fast it was beating. Days four and five were easier, less scary and more anxious, waiting for the punctual 9AM knock. From day six onwards, it was a welcome start to your day, knowing that someone is looking after you.

You check the fisheye like Spencer told you to, and then you open the door only when you recognise the face on the other side. “Good morning, Officer,” You smile, nodding at him a bit stiffly. The two of you had been formally introduced by JJ, but it didn’t make this any less awkward for you. “Would you like some coffee?”

“Sure,” He nods, smiling as he comes inside with his usual stack of mail. Everyday, without fail, someone picks up your mail and brings it to Officer Kaper. “Here’s your mail for the day, ma’am.”

“How was the night shift?” It’s almost like a scripted conversation, these back and forth questions you throw at each other, and you’re finding that you hate this. You hate the stiff conversations and the self-imposed bans. But this is day two, and in just more two days, Spencer would be home. And you would talk to him, just like you used to before, just like you did over the phone. Nothing will change; you’re not going home any time soon and Cat Adams isn’t going to just magically disappear. It’s time to accept it and learn how to live with it, as hard as that sounds.

Sifting through your mail has to be your favourite part of the day. It’s normal, slightly boring, and a peek into the routine you used to have and love. No one ever sends you letters, so it’s just bills. “Water, electricity, marketing, marketing,” The coffee is brewing in the background and Officer Kaper is telling you about his daughter. She’s a tiny girl, just two and very, very shy, but apparently, she loves stories. “I might have a book for her,” You get distracted from the letters for a second, smiling at the kind officer. “I’ll bring it to you later tonight!”

When you look back again, it’s the one on top.

The envelope is white, like any other letter, and it has no thing in the back but your name and address scribbled in red, a big heart right next to it. “Uh, Officer, this is… this is weird.” You’ve been instructed to let someone know if you received anything unlabelled or unexpected. This letter is certainly unexpected. “It has no return address.”

“May I open it?” He asks and you nod. He opens it with a knife, pulling a small piece of paper inside. “Okay, it seems like a normal letter. There is no signature of any kind.”

“What does it say?” You’re nervous now, walking around Officer Kaper to read over his shoulder. “Oh my god.”

“Does this mean anything to you?”

Nodding, you’re dialling Spencer’s number already. “It means I’m fucked.”

On the table, laid a message you’d never forget.

He’s not yours to keep.

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

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random-blurbs · 2 months ago

Text

I Need You

Summary : Kidnapped and beaten you need to live. The hunger to live is diminishing. The memories you shared with Reid gives you the fighting chance you need to hang on a little more. The chance for him to come save you.

“I don’t know…there’s just something that’s bothering me.” Looking at the whiteboard with all the pictures displaying the victims you can’t help but furrow your brow.

“What else can be bothering you we caught the UnSub.” Morgan said ripping down the photo you were staring at intently. “Let’s just take it as a win and get out of here.” JJ chimed in as she was putting the files in their respective boxes. “Maybe you’re just tired?” With a small smile Spencer came in placing a hand on your shoulder massaging it softly. Sighing in relief you held his hand thankful at the moments relief.

“Yeah maybe. I think I’m just overthinking it.” You finalized still not convinced. “You guys really are a match made in heaven.” Morgan poked as you both rolled your eyes at his comment. Two over thinkers in a relationship what can go wrong?

Walking out the police station all sort of thoughts whirled your head. Spencer typically finds it cute as the furrow of your eyebrow and your little thinking pose makes his day. To be fair anything you do makes his day. But when it comes down to cases he can’t help but worry. Considering everyone in the team felt on edge since the victims looked exactly like you.

“What are you thinking about up there? Maybe I can help you all things considered.” As he pointed at his genius brain. You felt crazy trying to explain it to him as the unsub Mike Loze fits the profile perfectly. Honestly he fits too perfectly and that’s the part that bothers you. His arrest was done in a nice little bow perfectly presented to the FBI.

And that’s what stuck out to you. “Can we get a quick ice-cream as I try to explain myself?”

“Of course I think I saw one down this street.” Following his lead you wrapped your hand around his. As you babbled on what you swear was the wrong arrest. “You don’t think it’s weird as soon as we landed we caught him within seconds? Usually it takes us weeks but this one was just… it feels weird especially the last victim.”

“Are you talking about the words he lured her in?” Nodding you recount how all the other victims were taken. Typically pushed into a dark alley and strangled there. Almost like the street you guys were walking down. It’s weird how the city hasn’t put that many lights out. Maybe after this they will. It wasn’t until the last victim was taken that they saw that a rock was used to knock her out. No signs of blunt force trauma in the other victims. So why the last one when they landed?

“He probably messed up and was afraid to get caught so quickly knocked her out. Not all kills go out how they would imagine it.” Knowing he would probably say the same thing as the others you just pointed at the ice cream shop a couple feet away trying to now change the topic. “I’m not saying you’re thinking without reason but there’s no point in stressing that wonderful mind of yours about this ok?” Turning you to him he placed a soft kiss to your forehead as you looked back at him. His eyes were always so loving.

You wondered how a man like him carried so much.

“Thank you Spence. Since you said that I’ll pay.” Doing his dorky little victory dance he let you latch back onto him as you got closer to the shop. Giving you one last kiss on your knuckles as you got closer to the shop.

“It’s fine like I said probably overthinking i-.”

It happened too fast.

Spencer had dragged you down with him as you let out a yelp. “Spencer! What the-!” Taking a quick look at him you saw blood running down his temple as his eyes were shut in pain.

In a swift motion you had unholstered your gun before meeting the same fate. Yours more unfortunate as it didn’t knock you out.

Knocked out of air you groaned in pain as you couldn’t feel your gun in your hands anymore. “S-Spence?” Worried the assailant will do something to him you crawled your way to his body.

“How sweet.” A cruel voice whispered at the sight. It was quickly finished as he brought the rock back up to finish the job.

Groaning you tried touching your head as the metal clacking made you realize your position. “No no no no!” It was useless tugging as you whipped your head around to find anything.

“There’s no point.” You couldn’t see the voice he sounded so far away. Biting your tongue you knew better to spite the person who seems very willing to jab a knife into you — you tried collecting your thoughts.

And your first thought was Spencer.

You couldn’t help but look around anxiously for the man you loved before hearing a chuckle. “I spared him! You can’t say I’m not nice.” The voice teased as you couldn’t help but let out a relieved sigh. Can’t be too relieved considering your position but somewhat. Looking up in the dark you can make out some other figure in the exact same position as you.

Same hair, same skintone, same general figure handcuffed to some blood soaked chair. “No… dammit it wasn’t only Mike.” You said in defeat as you realized you were right all along. “Too bad no one believed you. Maybe if they heard it from your boyfriend’s mouth they would’ve actually listened.” His voice was frighteningly close as you tried mustering all emotional strength you can. But the photos of the victims entered your thoughts; terrifying you. “Who the hell are you to him!”

You only saw the back of his figure as he walked closer to the other girl who was slowly waking up. Recognizing the glint of a knife you realized what’s going to happen. Looking away you quickly yelped in pain as another figure grabbed a fistful of your hair making you stare at the girl. “There’s m-more?!”

You’re panicking.

How wrong were you guys! Wiggling around it felt like your wrist was going raw with how much you were tugging.

“Mike was the one stopping us from doing what we really wanted.”

“But now he’s not here anymore.” He whispered into your ears as you yelled out seeing the girl get stabbed.

“Rose?”

“Doctor?” Giggling you wrapped your arms around his neck as he pulled you in for a peck. It’s Halloween and Pen decided to throw a cute little party with the team. “I love you guys but please don’t shove your loveness and ooey gooey relationship to me.” Penelope whined as she drank from her glass making everyone laugh. “Don’t worry I can shower you with all this love babygirl.” Derek comforted her wrapping his hands around her making her happy all over again. “Here have this.” Passing you a glass of water he was watching you the entire night. Not in a stalker way at least he hopes. But more as in this girl can ruin my life type of way.

“I’m so happy you did this with me.” He whispered into your ear as you heard the happiness lace his voice. He knew you weren’t the biggest fan of the show after Rose left but you always sat on that couch right beside him. Season after season. You would join him in his rewatches as you couldn’t help but see his excitement. That dorky smile you love is what you want to protect for the rest of your days.

Letting out a pained yell you doubled over as the knife was dragged down your shoulder. With a similar cry let out in front of you the girl was made to watch the same scene you watched a couple hours ago. “It-it’s ok, it’s ok just go anywhere else don’t be here.” You gasped tirelessly as they’ve been at it for hours. You’re dying and you feel it. You sense it. And you see it. Pooling at the bottom.

Another yell escaped from you as he finally stabbed the knife into your side. “Please stop! Please you’re killing her!” Choking up you tried talking but all you met was blood. Focusing on the droplets that fell you tried. So hard. It hurts. Everything hurts.

I want to go home.

I want Spencer.

“It’s ok! It’s ok!” Your panicked gasps was all you two can hear as you wiped your hair from your face. Sticky with uncontrollable sweat. Looking around wildly your eyes finally focused on him. On the person who always brings you back. “Just follow me.” He took a deep breath in and you followed suit. One two. One two. One two. Your throat felt dry as you tried swallowing down the fear. You couldn’t get her eyes out of your head. Out of your dreams, she’s following you everywhere. “You’re ok I got you.” Sweating from every part of your body, with disgusting body heat he pulled you in. Smoothing out your frizzed hair and whispering sweet nothings in your ear. With that calming voice of his making it all you hear.

“I can’t stop. She won’t leave me alone Spence.” You cried out into his arms as he held you tighter and tighter. “I know sweetheart it’ll pass. It’ll pass I swear to you it will pass.” He promised you giving you a kiss on the head. This is becoming a normal thing of sleepless nights. Every night you will wake up screaming as her eyes haunted you. And it didn’t matter to Spencer. He would hold you till the latest of night. Till the sun comes up he holds you. Even if it means his eye-bags are getting worse, and maybe he needs stronger coffee in the morning. He’ll hold you until it passes. It was a promise.

Her screams sounded so muffled and in a sick way you no longer care. You don’t care. You have to live. Just thinking is killing you. Time is killing you. Dried blood while new blood takes place is becoming common place. Every breath you take is met with drops of blood falling to your lap. It hurts.

It’s killing you.

“SpencerSpencerSpencer!” You anxiously said as you gripped his hand tighter. “How did you convince me to do this!” A yell that sounds more like a baby whine you guys were at the top. Rollercoasters. Something you love something he hates. But whatever you love he won’t love but he’ll tolerate. Thats the type of man he was. Which you love.

As the coaster sped down you heard his terrified yells as they excited you in a very non sick way. You were glad he gave this a try even if he won’t hear you out for anything more for a few months. With a sudden stop you let out a sigh of relief as the arm bar went up. Hopping off you see Spencer shaking as he got off. A baby deer.

Laughing internally to not make him feel embarrassed you let him grab onto your arm. “I can’t I’m sorry sweetheart but that’s the last one.” Now voicing out your laugh you gave him a quick kiss on his lip as you guided him to the gift shop. “Don’t worry I won’t make you suffer physically.” Pulling out a cute headband that you noticed couples wearing around the park you placed it on top of his handsome head. “Maybe emotionally wearing these.” Putting on some matching ones you took out your phone opening the camera. Facing it towards you he immediately made a kissy face towards you, and in turn you squish his cheeks together happily. “We look so cute!”

“You look cut-.” Putting a finger over his lips you shake your head. “Don’t ruin this.” He laughed in response as he saw you click buttons that he didn’t understand. “Look!” There you guys were on your phone wallpaper capturing the love you share for one another. A love you can’t have with anyone else but him.

And you both loved it.

The same wallpaper you had was teased so far away from you as Spencer was calling endlessly. You couldn’t hear the girl across from you anymore knowing you’re not too far away from her.

It hurts.

You want to give up.

You were giving up.

“When do you think we should tell them?” You fiddled with the bracelet that had the silver ring around it. It doesn’t look suspicious in anyway simply new. “Whenever you’re ready.” He wants to go at your pace, whatever pace you want he’ll follow right behind. “It feels nice having this just for us.”

You remembered the intimate date Spencer had set up. It was your anniversary as he opted out for a fancy restraunt dinner than home-cooked one. He knew you would’ve appreciated whatever he called dinner by the end of the day. But the nerves were eating him alive he needed to make sure everything was perfect. Just for you. It felt like every other dinner date just a little fancier. And it was a nice change of pace. It was becoming slowly obvious what Spencer was going through. Sweatier palms than normal, bouncing knee, having to clear his throat every few minutes. You understood clearly what was going to happen. You were a profiler after all.

But it didn’t matter if you knew. Opening the gift it’s a vintage jewelry box you’ve been eyeing for years. As the small intricate details made it pop so much more. You adored it. As you opened the box there was the two rings. A hidden engagement ring and one that would put anyone’s to shame. Not in a wow look at me stone. But a beautiful simple cut. “O my god Spencer…it’s so freaking pretty.” You gushed as he grabbed it and put it on you. He didn’t need to do the speech, you’ve guys talked in length of how marriage life you guys would want it. Two over thinkers after all you both need the confirmation with one another. Even though it’s clear the one or the other can’t live without one another.

“I’m probably going to keep on referring you as my boyfriend… I feel like it’s going to be hard to remember.”

“It’s ok it’s better that way for now.” Placing a soft kiss on your hand you etched his smile into your memory. Forever and ever. The love he had in his smile gave you a sense of joy that you needed.

“Y/N? O my God I found her! H-here open your eyes.” Feeling cold hands meet your face she tilted it up and you see its Emily. They found you? Really? It can’t be true. Trying to speak you sputtered whatever blood you had left as you slowly blinked. It was hard.

“Sweetheart? No no no.” You see Emily moved out of your way and there he was. Your fiancé. “I remembered…” You mumbled out knowing you sound insane it’s been so long since you heard your voice. “We need medic in here right now!”

“I got you here please stay with me.” He sounded desperate, a tone you’ve never heard before. And it was because of you. Your chest hurts physically and mentally. “Please I need you just stay awake a little bit longer.” You heard him cry out as his grip on you tightened refusing to let you. He can’t, he won’t. He needs you. Without you he’s gone, he won’t be him. You became another piece of him you can’t just leave him. He didn’t care as the tears fell freely as medic felt like it was taking forever. Doing what he can he whimpered as he saw all the marks made on you as you barely registered the pain as he put a cloth over it. You are alive he saw you alive. But as he was pulled away by Morgan as the medics needed to get to you. He can’t forget it. How the sweet head he used to leave kisses on fell limply to the side.

He wants you to stay alive.

It was hard. And you just couldn’t.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine

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sundrop-writes · 10 months ago

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Hi! I love your works! I saw your request are open, so I was wondering if I could ask how would Spencer react to the reader fainting into his arms?

I love this request so much. As a POTSie, this is really close to my heart - and idk if this was your intention or not, but I decided to make it that the reader has POTS.

Requests are OPEN

How would Spencer Reid react to you fainting around him?

Warnings: Reader's gender is not described - reader is gender neutral; the reader's looks are not really described either; the reader faints due to a pre-existing medical condition; the reader is mentioned to have POTS; this is Spencer during his Professor era; the reader is also a Professor at the University that Spencer teaches at; this fic uses Y/N and L/N (as in Last Name); the reader loses consciousness completely and Spencer attends to them to make sure they are okay; some light fluff/romance; I think that's it? Not really proofread. This could be described as hurt/comfort (I found it very comforting to write) - even if you aren't chronically ill, I encourage you to read and enjoy!!!

...

Spencer didn’t really know you.

Since he had started teaching at the university, he had seen you around many times, and a face like yours - someone as gorgeous as you definitely stuck out in his mind. But he had never formally introduced himself. He could have used the excuse that he was busy preparing his lectures, and racing back and forth to the BAU between those lectures. But even if he hadn't spoken to you, he had been admiring you from afar for a long time.

That was why, when he found a notebook that belonged to you sitting on one of the benches on the quad, he didn’t hesitate to bring it to your office. It needed to be returned to its rightful owner, and that owner was someone he had been secretly admiring for some time now. It was the perfect excuse to introduce himself to you. He thought that sitting on the notebook when he went outside to take his morning coffee break could be considered fate. Especially when he flipped open the cover, looking for some sign of who it belonged to, and he saw your name written on it.

(Did he also flip through the rest of the pages, seeing the poems you had written, along with some beautiful sketches of birds and stills of flowers, and felt his stomach stir even more, realizing that he was falling for you before even talking to you? Maybe. He would have denied it, though.)

He knocked on your door late, on his way out for the day, hoping that you were still there, and he was surprised to find the hinge creaking open underneath his fist.

“Hello?” He called out. “Professor L/N?”

“Oh, come in!” You called back.

Spencer walked in and found the room to be a mess of papers - many open file boxes scattered about the room, with papers scattered everywhere in an utter hurricane of paper.

You were focused on the file box in front of you, a frown knit across your brows as you flipped through them one by one, clearly intently looking for something.

“I’m sorry.” Spencer apologized. “Is this a bad time?”

“Oh, uh-” You finally looked up from your searching, and when you locked eyes with Spencer, you were surprised to find a doe-eyed, curly-haired, incredibly attractive man standing in the middle of your messy office. “I’m sorry. I- you’re that FBI guy, right? Reid?”

You ignored his question in favor of being introduced to him properly - you had heard his name from the mouths of other people; gossip from your colleagues about how a real FBI profiler would be teaching a class about the psychology of serial killers and profiling.

“Yes.” Spencer nodded. “I’m Doctor Spencer Reid. But you can call me Spencer, if you prefer.”

“Spencer.” You repeated back, grinning at him. “I’m Professor L/N, as you said. But you can call me Y/N.”

“Well, Y/N, I just came to return this.” Spencer explained, reaching into his bag and pulling out your notebook.

Your eyes instantly lit up at the sight of it.

“Oh my gosh.” You gasped quietly. “Thank you so much.” You took it back, giving him a grateful smile. “I don’t even know where my head is today, I-”

Spencer gave a small grin as he followed your gaze around the mess you had created in your office.

“I know this looks chaotic, but…” You looked for an excuse. “A student asked me for a copy of an essay they wrote a few years ago as a reference for their thesis. And I thought I had everything well organized. But - apparently my head is just not on very straight.”

The forgetfulness, and your inability to go through the files in an efficient way - the lack of focus, it was only compounded by your pre-existing condition. Which was only made worse by the fact that you had forgotten to eat lunch, and it was well past dinner time now.

“Oh, that’s completely understandable.” Spencer chuckled. “I can help you look through some of these if you want?”

Your hands were shaking as you grasped the notebook and as Spencer became blurry in your vision - you thought about going to sit down in your office chair for a break after it was too late.

“Y/N?”

He became worried when you didn’t respond, when the expression on your face became more distant and he noticed your lips paling from a healthy color.

In the next moment, you were falling.

Spencer rushed to catch you, his instincts kicking in - everything in his body screaming that he needed to keep you from hitting the floor, that he needed to keep you safe. One of his hands cradled the back of your head, and the other arm wrapped around the middle of your back - he was surprised by how heavy your body felt when you were purely dead weight, your body entirely limp as you went completely unconscious, your eyes rolling into the back of your head in a scary way.

He knelt down slowly, taking you down to the floor in the most gentle way possible, not wanting to drop you accidentally and have you hit your head because of his incompetence. The more the seconds ticked on and your eyelids stayed limp, your lips almost purple and your mouth gaped - the more his own heart thumped in his chest with intense fear.

“Hey, hey, come on.” He continued to cradle your head with one hand, but now that you were mostly resting on the floor, he moved his other arm from your back to gently rub across your cheek - hoping to rouse you back to consciousness. “Come on, stay with me. Y/N. Wake up. Please?”

He gently tapped your cheek, no where close to slapping you - but hoping to stimulate your nervous system with touch in some way.

A huge breath of relief sucked through his chest when your eyelids started flickering and your eyes began moving around, clearly searching for something in the room as you regained consciousness. You let out a moan, trying to form words, and Spencer put a gentle hand on your shoulder, trying to calm you.

“Hey, shh, it’s okay. Just relax.” He told you, trying to keep his voice calm - trying not to betray any of the anxiety that he was truly feeling.

His first instinct was to call an ambulance - obviously you needed medical attention. What had happened to you? What if it was something serious?

And while he was patting down his pockets for his phone, you let out another moan and lifted one of your limp arms, drawing his attention to the jingle of a medical alert bracelet on your arm.

He shoved his phone back into his pocket and moved to grab the pendant on the bracelet, reading it carefully.

Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome

There was an emergency number listed, but it wasn’t 9-1-1 - Spencer had to guess that it was a family member of yours, or a doctor. So he had to guess that calling an ambulance wasn’t the thing to do. The condition sounded familiar to him - he read medical journals on occasion because he found them to be mentally engaging, and - because of occasions like this; if he could use the information to help someone.

He remembered that it was a condition in which the autonomic nervous system fails to regulate blood flow, resulting in fainting when too much blood pools in the legs. So elevating the legs can help a person with the condition regain consciousness easier.

Spencer hated to rest your head on the hardness of the floor, but he rushed to take off his blazer, and folded it up to put it underneath your head as a makeshift pillow, and then he looked around frantically - and the only good thing he could find were the file boxes. He stacked a few of them and brought them closer, and then situated your legs so they were elevated up on top of the boxes, above your prone body.

He took your hand and held it - again, simply out of instinct. Wanting you to know that he was there with you while you lingered on the edge of consciousness. But with his helpful first aid, it wasn’t long then - only a minute or two - before your eyes blinked open more confidently and you tried to sit up.

“Hey, take it easy.” Spencer implored, pushing you gently to lay back down. “Just rest for a few minutes, okay?”

Usually - you would have rushed to become upright again, even if it was against medical advice. But something about Spencer’s presence was gentle and soothing, and you found yourself actually listening to him.

“Sorry,” You muttered out, the word practically turning into a slur on your lips - your face tingling and numb as the blood slowly migrated back to your head. “I - I didn’t mean to s-scare you.”

“You did scare me a little bit.” Spencer chuckled. “Hopefully next time I see you, you don’t end up on the floor.”

“Well, my condition gets b-better when I eat s-salty foods.” You remarked, telling him the truth about the medical advice you had been given, feeling bold to let this roll into a flirty opportunity. “Maybe you could t-take me to dinner-r next time?”

Spencer grinned down at you, and let out a light laugh.

“Sounds like a date.”

...

A/N: I have to say that this was so comforting for me to write. The amount of times in my life that I have fainted and been terrified, or I have been berated by the people around me for ‘faking’ it when I was feeling incredibly ill and barely conscious. If I fainted and I woke up to Spencer holding my hand and treating me so well like this - I would feel so relaxed and comforted. This was so amazing for me to write, and did help to heal a small fraction in the huge lifetime of medical trauma that I have.

Criminal Minds Masterlist

#sundrop writes #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid

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daddy-dotcom · 1 year ago

Text

Scents and Sensibility

Spencer Reid x BAU!Reader

Summary: You see an ad for those “pheromone perfumes” and decide to test its effect on your boyfriend at work. Requested by the lovely @swaggysagiewagie

Words: 1,164

Warnings: Implied smut and maybe like 1 swear word

——————————————————

I'm normally not one to make impulse purchases, but I just couldn't resist. I always thought those pheromone perfumes were a gimmick, but as a woman of science, I decided to test one and see if it actually worked. More specifically, I wanted to see if it worked on Spencer. Normally, we keep things very tame while we're on the clock. The team knows we're a couple, but we make sure to keep the PDA to a minimum. I don't mind his lack of affection at work, especially given the fact that he's not very expressive in public either, but it wouldn't hurt to get more than a peck on the cheek every now and then while were on the job. To test the effects of my newest purchase, I applied just a bit of the perfume before walking out the door to work.

Immediately as I walked through the lobby, I began turning heads. I typically went unnoticed when I entered the lobby, but the security guards said hello to me this morning as did the men in the elevator. I made my way up to our unit and I made my way to my desk, as usual. As I passed Morgan's desk, I could instantly tell that something was out of the ordinary.

"Good morning, babygirl," he said, eyeing me up and down more than usual. He's called me beautiful, gorgeous, or even pretty several times, but babygirl was exclusively reserved for Garcia.

"....good morning?" I replied, somewhat confused, but mostly smug because I had a feeling that my new perfume was working.

JJ Prentiss were talking amongst themselves when I came over to greet them. We exchanged our typical weekend updates before Emily asked me if I was wearing a new perfume.

"It smells amazing. Is it vanilla?" JJ asked.

"I think so? To tell you the truth, I'm not actually sure. I actually bought it on a whim because it's a pheromone perfume."

"Oh come on, (Y/N), you know those are all fake right" said Emily.

"You wanted to see if it worked on Spence didn't you?" JJ asked with a grin creeping up on her face.

Just then, an angry Garcia walked up to us demanding to know why Morgan had started referring to me as "babygirl."

I proceeded to spill the beans about how I wanted to mess with Spencer and see if he would be able to keep his hands off me at work now that I've used the perfume. They agreed not to reveal my secret weapon to Spencer, but we also wanted to see if it had an effect on any of our other team members.

Almost on cue, Spencer made his way over to greet us.

"Morning everyone!" he said in his usual upbeat tone. I saw him pause for a moment when he got close to me and I could practically see his brain short-circuiting. Then, in a much softer tone with his voice dropped a few octaves, he turned to me and said "good morning my love." He leaned in to give what I assumed would be our usual daily quick peck on the lips, but he gently placed one hand on my hip and let his lips linger much longer than usual. I pulled away after a few seconds, my face beet red from the realization that Garcia, Prentiss, and JJ were still watching us.

"I'll see you in the meeting," he said, walking away with a smirk.

I could feel the other agents' eyes on me as I stood there like a lovesick teenage girl.

"Well I would say that definitely worked on him" JJ said.

"You're making it way too easy for him, (Y/N)," Prentiss added.

And she was right. I was giving in to Spencer's advances way too easily. If I wanted the full effect of the perfume, I was going to have to make him beg for it. We dispersed and made our way to the meeting room to be briefed on our case. On our way in, I brushed past Rossi, who also seemed to take notice of my new scent.

"You're looking nice today, (Y/N), got a hot date?" he joked, glancing over at Spencer. I let out a laugh before replying, "I hope so."

I took the spot between Hotch and Spencer, acting somewhat indifferent to my boyfriend’s presence to see if he would notice. As I settled into my seat, I saw Hotch do a double take out of the corner of my eye. He may not have said anything, but I could tell he wasn’t immune to the effects of my new perfume either. Garcia began her usual presentation about our new case, but I could hardly focus on anything she was saying because I could feel a hand slowly creeping up my thigh, and it definitely wasn’t Hotch’s. Still, I pretended not to notice his slender fingers toying with the hem of my skirt, even though I was consumed with thoughts of where I'd rather have them.

After what seemed like ages, Hotch finally dismissed us to prepare to board the jet. Since I was pretty much always prepared, I was the first one to board, and I noticed Spencer followed me shortly after, looking like a lost puppy dog. I was reaching up high to put my luggage up in the overhead bin, which was a task I usually asked Spencer to do for me. However, Spencer would be boarding the jet any moment now, so I decided to do it myself, an action which not-so-accidentally caused my skirt to ride up in the back. I heard familiar, converse-wearing footsteps behind me, but once again I pretended not to notice.

"(Y/N) you know you can't reach up there yourself, let me help," he said, firmly pressing his body against my backside as he stretched his arms up to assist me. I felt his hips flush against my ass and his arms moved to firmly plant themselves at my waist.

"I don't remember giving you permission to touch me, Spence," I said, not bothering to hide the grin on my face due to our position.

"Please, love, I can't help it. You smell so delicious today I don't know what's gotten into me."

He began leaving a trail of kisses from my lips down to my neck and I couldn’t help but finally give in to his requests.

“You better make it quick before the others board the jet,” I said, trying to stifle a moan.

“All I need is 5 minutes. Two if you keep those heels on.”

“Deal. But you’re not coming until I say so.”

“Anything you want, love. I just need you.”

I quickly pulled him into the bathroom of the jet, where he definitely proved that he really did need only two minutes.

“By the way, are we part of the mile high club if the plane didn’t technically leave the ground?”

#dr spencer reid #spencer reid #spencer x reader #criminal minds fic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid smut #mgg #matthew gray gubler #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader

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blackdollette · 5 months ago

Text

"says it feels like heaven to him." | spencer reid

off to the races. - lana del rey.

⊹₊⋆ synopsis: "just the tip"...

fill out the taglist form! : @thirtyratsinasuit @auggiethecreator @oliviah-25 @sleepysongbirdsings @pleasantwitchgarden @emma-e-a @bellasprettywords @hiireadstuff

⊹₊⋆ pairing: bimbo!female!reader x spencer

⊹₊⋆ word count: 1.3k

⊹₊⋆ contents: cunnilingus, unprotected p in v (copulate wisely!), premature ejaculation, slight creampie, implied aftercare

notoriety was your specialty. you wore nonchalance and ignorance like the mascara and lipstick that always set so perfectly on your face. spencer would often confide in you on various topics surrounding his undesirable job, but how could you listen to any of his problems when he had a face like that? even now, you ignored spencer’s muffled groans and whimpers, your compact mirror sitting prettily in your hand as you sat prettily on his face.

“spencer! can you hold still? you made me mess up my makeup!” you hissed, looking down into his eyes. even with half his face buried deep in between your legs, you still couldn’t get him to be quiet. as usual, spencer had come to your place to “talk”, like he always did whenever he felt uneasy. but those talking sessions had always ended with his dick stained with your pretty lipstick.

you sighed, snapping the bejeweled mirror shut and lifting yourself slightly so you were hovering over his face, his lips connected to your dripping and puffy cunt by a few strings of saliva. “take a second. you sure look like you need it.”

spencer panted heavily, bringing his hand to his forehead to brush away his chestnut-brown locks of hair. he scooted himself out from underneath you, his hands finding your bare hips to latch onto for support. you looked down at him, an unamused expression manifesting on your face as you saw the man recollect himself as if he had run a marathon. and you hadn’t even touched him yet.

spencer had developed a taste for your eccentric and hypersexual antics, often finding himself wondering how it would feel to be balls deep in that unnaturally plump pussy of yours. what could he say? you had woven him into your definition of perfection, making him undeniably whipped.

he reached out to grab your discarded pair of hot-pink, leopard print panties from the carpet, using them to wipe away the sweat cascading down the back of his neck. he cleared his throat, meeting your eyes with a half-lidded gaze of his own.

“do you, uh, mind if we change positions or something..? my jaw is killing me…” spencer suggested sheepishly, knowing full well that you’d keep him there for as long as you pleased if you really wanted to. which is why he was mildly surprised when he saw you nod.

“...why not? i guess you’ve been deserving.” you smile, pressing a smooch to his forehead and leaving a hot-pink lipstick stain on the surface. a stupid grin spread across his face, his cheeks tinting with the same shade that you had applied on his forehead.

he backed up against the headboard of your bed, watching as you gave yourself one last look in your mirror.

with a satisfied hum, you crawled in between spencer’s slightly parted legs, a torturous and sticky tent in his office pants. this was the third pair you had indirectly ruined this week. you pressed a soft kiss to the clothed tip, making his hips jerk upward as a groan sounded from the back of his throat.

your manicured hands trailed up to his bulge, massaging the tense flesh tenderly as you slowly began to undo the zipper. you could sense his body reacting in more ways than one to your painfully slow pace, but you loved to torture him more than anything.

you swiftly undid the button and the zipper, silently commanding him to lift up his hips, which he did. you pulled the sodden pants halfway down his tights, his aching cock throbbing through his boxers.

spencer hated it when you teased him, but couldn’t deny how much he loved being the object of your affection. his eyes trailed down your face, studying each feature meticulously. his gaze went from your face to your body, admiring the way your tits practically begged to be let out of the fluorescent bra you had on. he was only snapped out of his lust-filled gaze when you crawled onto his lap, gripping his cock in your hand and lining it up with your entrance.

“h-hey, i thought we were going to use a condom.” he stammered, subconsciously bucking his hips in your grip.

“ran out.” you muttered, teasing your slit as you slid his tip along it, sealing your eyes shut as a moan spilled from your parted lips.

spencer’s morals were battling with him right then. “...i thought we were gonna play it safe. especially after what happened last time…”

you scoffed, rolling your eyes. “oh c’mon, spence. you’re being paranoid. it’s not my fault you couldn’t pull out.”

spencer’s cheeks reddened even further. any amount of stamina that he possessed was slashed in half whenever he was inside you.

you rested your hands on his shoulders, looking down at him. “and besides, we’ll be fine if you only put the tip in. then i won’t get pregnant.”

the confidence in your voice mixed with the simple fact that you were just plain wrong was enough to free a little laugh from him. “that isn’t how it works…”

you laughed with him, your naivety beginning to shine through. “oh sure it is. as long as you don’t get inside, you can’t get me knocked up.”

to you, your logic was flawless. spencer wouldn’t be able to cum if he couldn’t actually get inside, which eliminated all possible risks. right?

as much as spencer wanted to pull out the multitude of factoids he had on this topic, he had gotten lost in the way your pretty eyes gazed down at him. just the sight of you got his palms clammy, his head light, and his guts doing complicated twists.

your wet folds began to drink him in as you dipped the tip in. spencer’s eyebrows knitted together, his eyes locked on when your beautiful body and his were connected. it was euphoric being this close to you. being able to smell your alluring scent and feel your touch on the most intimate part of him.

his fingers dug deeper into the plush skin of your ass as he tried to push himself further into you, groaning more than he should’ve been at the minimal contact. a smile pulled at his lips as he heard the sweet noises that came out of you, familiar buzzing sensations firing throughout him.

he knew this feeling all too well. his gut coiling, his balls tightening, and the sight of everything fading into a blur except you. the grinding motion of spencer’s hips came to a halt as his head tilted back, a deep groan coming from him as his release began to ooze from his tip. his hips rutted upward until he was fully inside you, filling up your tight hole with his cum.

“spencer!” your voice snapped him out of his sneak peak of paradise, his eyes opening quickly as he looked down and saw his cum waterfalling down his rod. his eyes widened at the sight of his release seeping out of your hole.

“...oh jeez… not again.” he muttered, his voice raspy and thick with the lingering pleasure of his orgasm.

“i can’t believe you, i didn’t even put it in!” you gave him a light swat on the chest.

“s-sorry, baby. y-you’re just so…” his voice trailed off as he looked down your body, swallowing hard.

you raised an eyebrow, putting your hands on your hips. “i’m just so what?”

he smiled, letting his gaze wander freely. “you’re so beautiful…” he whispered, tightening his grip on you slightly.

you couldn’t fight the grin that threatened to appear on your face. “you’re not too bad yourself…” you stood up from the bed, looking at the trail of moisture that you had left behind. you sighed, looking at the pile of discarded clothing on the ground. “let’s get cleaned up. i got this new bath soap that is to die for.”

spencer laughed softly, pulling his pants back up and standing next to you. “right. lead the way.” he said as you began to walk in front of him, not being able to help stealing a few glances at you from behind along the way.

author's note: not my best work but this was so much fun to write omg

#criminal minds fanfiction #bau team #dr spencer reid #doctor spencer reid #spencer reid #spencer reid smut #dr spencer reid smut #matthew gray gubler #matthew gray gubler smut #smut #lana del rey #444rockstargf

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marvelwitchergilmore · 7 months ago

Text

For A While...

Summary: Spencer Reid x Fe!Reader -> You were first introduced to Spencer through Emily, however, six years later, it seems some things are beginning to change.

Disclaimer: 16+ CM level violence. Descriptions of torture, death and stalking. This is part two. Part one can be accessed here. Fluff towards the end. Pining. Angst (kinda). Not proof read.

Five Months Later…

The last five months had been like agony for Spencer.

He’s spent the last five months trying his best to figure out his feelings for you until one morning he walked into work, determined to look less like a complete confused mess as he had done for the last several days.

His tie was still a little crooked, but his hair was neater than when he’d rolled out of bed, and his shirt wasn’t creased. And with a coffee in his hand, he was waking up a little faster than usual. Except, just as he stepped through the doors, he saw you by your desk.

No-one was in the office yet. You’d been removing your scarf and coat, laying them on the back of your chair when he spotted you and the voice in his head said…

I love you.

He’d shocked himself.

Of course, he had already known his feelings ran deep for you. But it was the first time the actual words had been spoken out loud, or in the very least, to himself.

And it had been agony ever since.

He was pretty sure he managed to hide it, though he doubted that the team didn’t at least have their suspicions. If Emily had figured it out with only a couple of days, the team had seen them both for months.

However, Spencer was certain of one thing.

He had it under control.

Like he had told Emily, he didn’t want to lose you. And if that meant forever being your friend, living with a cage around his heart when he was with you that felt as if it was crushing his soul, he could happily live with that.

Until, one day, Spencer wondered why he’d built the cage in the first place. Because as much as he was aware of the dangers both of your jobs posed, he never thought he could lose you because of that.

The team had been flown to Oregon for a case. Four women had been killed in the town, all with a similar look, background and lifestyle. And the further you were looking into the case, it didn’t just seem to be in Oregon. The bodies trailed over the years across the country, and from what you could figure, the first had been in Virginia.

However, the longer you all worked on the case, the more the nagging feeling in your gut grew. Something felt too familiar about the case.

“We have to be missing something. We already know this guy stalks his victims, right. He knows what they do for work, he makes sure he knows what they’re doing at all times. He prays for the right moment when they're alone or they’re away from their general routine.”

“If it was a bigger pattern you could say he’s picking them at random.”

“But I don’t think he is. I mean, look at how each of the victims are described.”

They were described as smart, happy, hard working. If they ever stepped out of their routine, it was because they had to. The first victim drove a little out of town because her usual restaurant she ordered from was shut. The second because she needed cabinet hinges. The third because she needed to stop for gas but there was a diversion on the road, sending her to another.

The rest of the team continued talking but when Spencer looked over to you, you seemed…off.

“Hey, I’m gonna go and get some coffee. You guys want some?”

“Sure, that’d be great.”

“Thanks.”

Spencer knew that look on your face a little too well. You needed space. Why, he didn’t know. But he also knew it was better not to follow you.

Except, he couldn’t help but wish he could turn back the clock and do exactly that.

An hour later, you still hadn’t returned.

After twenty five minutes, they figured maybe there was a long cue. After thirty five, they figured maybe they had been changing the coffee filter just as you got there.

When you didn’t pick up your phone after an hour…they got worried.

So, sending Derek and Spencer to the coffee shop to try and find you, Hotch, JJ, Rossi and Blake stayed behind in case it was just that they were changing the filter and there was a long cue and your phone had died.

Except, when Spencer and Derek returned half an hour later having searched up and down the block, in every cafe, coffee shop, convenience store and gas station, they all knew something was wrong.

“She’s not any of them. The cashier said she hadn’t even come in today.”

“That’s not good.”

From the screen, Garcia popped up.

“Guys, I’m getting a live feed. You’re gonna want to see this, though…I don’t know if you’ll want to.”

“What is it, Garcia?”

Garcia said nothing, but her face said it all. With a couple of clicks, the feed was up on the full screen and everyone in the police department was watching it.

“How long have you had this Garcia?”

“The alert came in only a few moments before I called you, but according to the chat room, it’s been prepared for a couple of hours, but went live about forty minutes ago. I think you should also know, I was invited to this.”

“Invited?” JJ asked.

“Believe me, I’ve had every corner that I know of, being monitored. But apparently this is a new one.”

Everyone looked a little closer to the screen, and eventually it got a little brighter. Most likely from a light on the further wall.

And everyone’s hearts sank.

It was you.

You had a gash on your head, most likely where the unsub had hit you across the head. From the look on your face as you move your body ever so slightly, it wasn’t the only place on you that was wounded.

The camera angles kept changing, offering a different view of the room, though there wasn’t much to see other than you, beaten and bloodied, zip tied and chained to a bolted down chair.

Then someone came into shot.

The unsub.

He approached you slowly, bringing with him a damp cloth, gently pressing it to your head.

“It’s okay. Take it easy.”

You forced your eyes open, but when you were met with the reality of who it was, your face turned into shock, fear, disgust and anger.

You jerked back, unable to move any further than you had tried before.

“Get the hell off me.”

“It’s okay, don’t be like that.”

The unsub spoke softly to you.

“Get away from me. Get off me.”

“You don’t have to be like this.”

Then you spotted the camera.

“You’re filming this?”

“I thought your friends might like to see it. See how safe you are.”

“Safe?!” both yourself and Spencer asked.

“Garcia, can you get a clear shot of the unsub?”

“No, sir. He hasn’t looked at the camera fully.”

“Then look into Y/l/n’s past. She knows him. Or, he knows her. Maybe they’ve crossed paths somewhere before.”

“Already on it, Sir.”

It would take a little longer for the team to realise your relationship to the unsub. And your connection to the victims.

“I told you you’re safe with me, you don’t have to worry any more.”

“You kidnap me and tell me not to worry?!”

“I can take care of you.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“Why take her though? Why follow her? It’s too risky.”

“Maybe it’s his endgame.” Spencer said out loud, the cogs turning over and over in his head. Then he moved towards the evidence board, rearranging things around where he’d written your name in a bubble.

He needed to keep moving, proving to himself he was alive. Or else he might break more than he ever had.

“How would you describe her?”

“Smart.” JJ began, following what Spencer was getting at.

“Hard working.”

“A stickler for routine. She’s fixed. Doesn’t often change what she likes.”

More comparisons came out and Spencer had proven his point.

“I’m wondering if he was her first victim. Or if she was his catalyst.”

Everyone turned back to the screen when they heard a loud strike.

“It WAS me!”

It took you a moment before you rolled your head back up and looked from the camera to him.

“It never was you, that was the whole point.”

“Only because you couldn’t see what I could offer you.” He pulled a chair harshly in front of you and sat down. The camera still had a clear shot of your face, but just the back of his head.

“I saw you, a few years ago. Who was he?”

“Who was who?”

“That-that-that guy! The one you think you wanted! The one you thought could offer you everything!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

Another strike across the face. Then he grabbed you.

“I saw how you looked at him. Like he was the whole world. Your whole world.”

“When even was-”

“Six years ago. I was coming out of a bar. Couple of buddies wanted me to go with them but I knew I had to find you. And I was stupid enough to think you’d be waiting for me. Instead, I found you with him. Standing outside your apartment. I didn’t wait around for the kiss.”

His name slipped from your mouth before you could stop yourself.

“So, you remember him? You remember him? You remember him…”

Of course you remember him. How could you not? You worked with him every single day.

The unsub was growing more emotional. From accusatory to confusion to a sadness of acceptance.

Then anger.

“You remember him!? And all he had to do was walk you home?!” The unsub laughed before pausing and kicking the chair over, sending it flying into a wall.

You jumped at his quickness and the loudness of the noises.

“Do you know how long I have been trying to get your attention?! How long I have spent trying to show you that you have feelings for me? You might deny it, but we both know it’s true. It has been since we first met. I know you didn’t know, but I saw it in your eyes, in that kindness you showed me when no one else did. You volunteered to be my partner, remember?”

“For the…the forest run?”

“You do remember.”

The unsub got down on his knees in front of you, clutching at your jacket.

“See, this just proves-”

“I volunteered because Sophia didn’t want to be left alone with you.”

“What?”

“I opted to take her place to make her feel safe.”

As you continued to explain, Hotch and Garcia tracked your phone numbers and social media posts until she found Sophia.

“So you don’t feel safe with me, but you’ll feel safe with Spencer?”

“Please, don’t bring him into this.”

“Why not?”

The unsub sat back. “Why not? Go ahead, tell me. This wouldn’t happen to be the same Doctor Spencer Reid, would it?”

You tried to deny it, but no words came from your mouth.

The unsub became deflated.

“And let me guess, you have feelings for him…you…you even…love him. Why do I not measure up? Because I don’t work for the FBI? Because I’m not a Doctor? What is it that makes him so much better that he earns your love?”

“Please, just-”

“It should be me! What can he give you that I can’t?”

Then he pushed the hair from your face and held it against your head, forcing you to look at him.

“I could have given you everything. I still can. Just tell them you’re safe, and I’ll make sure nothing ever happens to you, ever again.”

“Please, don’t-”

He turned to stand behind you, forcing you to look directly into the camera where the team could see the trails left behind through the blood on your cheeks, where your tears had flooded through them.

“TELL THEM!”

“Garcia, please tell me you have something.”

“Uh, maybe, I-I don’t know. I can’t be certain.”

“I’ll take what I can get, Garcia.”

“Well, I, uh-”

“Now, Garcia.” Spencer called out, his voice oddly even and a little cold.

“Sophia said his name was Toby-something. But I’ve looked through her files, her socials. There isn’t a single Toby, or Tobias or even Tobe.”

“Can you get a picture of him?”

“I’ve got a few, I’m running them through my database now.”

“What about Emily?” JJ asked. Everyone looked at her. “She grew up with Emily, right? Maybe she’ll know something.”

Spencer was already on the phone.

“Emily? Emily, listen to me. Was there anyone in Y/n’s past that she had trouble with? An ex boyfriend or something in college?”

“I- Reid, is everything okay?”

“Garcia will catch you up, but please. Was there anyone she talked about? Maybe a Toby-someone?”

Suddenly, Emily’s voice turned cold. “Reid, where is she?”

“Emily?”

“Back when she was in college, she was having trouble with a guy. Everyone called him Toby but his real name Jonathan. Toby was his middle name. He seemed fixated on her and one day, she found him in her apartment on campus. She called me and I got her out. After that, he seemed to disappear, but she always was weary.”

“Okay, send all the details you can to Garcia.”

“Already happening.”

All the team could do was wait and watch, hoping something would jump out at them to help find you.

“Do you love him?”

“I need to hear it from you. Do you love him?”

He picked up a weapon of some kind. A knife maybe.

“No, no, I can’t watch!” Garcia called out, turning her chair away.

A backhanded slap came across your face, the edge of the knife, cutting your cheek.

“Do. You. Love. Him?” Toby screamed louder.

Garcia squealed a little, hearing his arm movement. But just when she expected you to scream in pain, anyone who was listening heard what you said next.

“YES!” you screamed, fear of what was going to come next taking over. Maybe it would have been best to lie. But he wouldn’t have accepted it. And if he was going to kill you…

Toby faltered, looking down at you in heartbroken shock.

“Yes, yes. I do. I love him. Please…please don’t hurt me…I-”

Toby dropped the knife, the sound clattering on the floor, and he stepped back. Even from behind, they could all see the changes in his body movement.

From shock, heartbreak, to more shock to…anger.

And fear flashed across your face.

“No, no, no. Please. Toby- what-what are you doing?”

He was moving around the room, gathering things.

“Toby, please. Please don’t-”

Then the screen went dark.

“Garcia! Please tell me you have something!”

“Almost. Hold on. Wait.”

“We can’t-”

“The footage is still running. There’s no picture or sound, but it’s still running. Maybe if I can just- I’ve got her.”

“Garcia, send us the address.”

“Already done. Please bring her back safe.”

Toby had taken you forty minutes out of town, held up in a small town shed on a small plot of land he’d rented in cash, save for the electric bill that was in his name from a month earlier. Garcia couldn’t trace the address, but she could find the closest cell tower. And with a little cross reference, she found you.

All the team could do was hope you were still alive by the time they got to you.

It was agonising to listen to, but your screams let them know you were still alive. And when Morgan kicked down the door, Toby turned around you, holding your body against his front.

He’d changed you from being tied down in the chair to being strung up by your wrists. By the looks of it, however, you had managed to fight back, presumably in the small window of time you did have.

“Come any closer and I’ll kill her.”

“No you won’t, Toby.”

“Won’t I?!”

You whimpered a little as the blade pushed further into your skin.

“You love her, don’t you? Don’t you want to see her happy?”

“She IS happy. She’s happy with me.”

“Really, Toby? Because I wouldn’t say she looks happy. I’d say she looks scared. Terrified, even.”

“No, no, no she’s not.”

“Morgan…”

“She loves me! She has to love me!”

“But she doesn’t. And do you really think this is how she’s going to fall in love with you? By forcing her into it?”

Toby changed.

“Doctor Reid. Doctor Spencer Reid. This is him, isn’t it? This is the one that took you from me? Maybe once I’m done with you, maybe, maybe he’ll be next.”

“No…”

“Or you can choose me. Choose me and they don’t get hurt. Choose me and-”

You jumped at the sound.

A gunshot.

Everything went silent and then the knife clattered to the floor once more, soon followed by Toby’s body.

For a moment, you heard JJ’s voice coming from Derek’s wire, and then everything came back into a blurry focus.

“Is it over? Is-is he dead?”

Reid moved closer, checking his pulse before nodding to Morgan.

“It’s over.”

“Thank god, please get these off me.”

Spencer was closer, taking his pocket knife out before cutting your binds, allowing you to stand fully on the floor once more.

Your arms wrapped around Spencer both out of necessity, since your legs gave way for a moment, and out of need to hug someone, anyone, who wasn’t Toby.

In his arms, Spencer could feel your entire body shaking. So he simply held you tighter.

“Is-is it-are you sure it’s over?”

“It’s over. Let's get you out of here.”

Spencer helped you out of the shed before walking you over to the ambulance that was pulling up behind one of the SUVs.

“P-please don’t leave me.”

“I’m not going anywhere. I’ve got you.”

And he did.

Spencer stayed with you as they helped you into the ambulance and drove you to the hospital, he stayed with you as the doctors talked you through where they were taking you and what would happen and he was right there waiting for you, as you had asked, when you got out.

And when they finally found you a room, he stayed by your side, holding your hand.

Even hours later, you were still shaking with nerves and adrenaline.

“Have you called Emily?” you asked after a few hours of silence.

Spencer nodded. “She knows what happened. She’s also said she’s gonna catch the next flight out once they open the airports in London. Some storms closed the runways.”

You just nodded.

“Hey Spencer?”

Spencer hummed.

“I’m sorry.”

“What for?”

“For…for what happened. I-I don’t know how much you saw from the footage but Toby…I should have lied. I should have tried to keep your name-”

Spencer shot out of his seat and sat on your bed facing you, slowly taking the hand you used to squeeze your eyes shut from crying, into his.

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s-”

“It’s okay. All I care about is that you’re safe. Emily…she already knew. She… a couple months ago, she talked to me about it…because she figured that was how I felt about you.”

“Spence, no, you don’t have to-”

“We can talk about it more, when you’re better, but I just…I need you to know, you’re not alone. And I don’t want you to be sorry for what you said. Because, even though I’m sorry for how it had to happen, I’m not sorry about what was said.”

“You…you’re not?”

Spencer shook his head, looking down at your hands in his, his thumb tracing a constant pattern over your knuckles.

However, the familiar clicking of heels down the hall broke your intimate silence.

“We’ll talk about it?”

You nodded.

Garcia was calling out your name before she found your room and took a look at you.

“Oh, thank god.”

“Penelope,” you smiled.

And Spencer smiled, too. For the first time in the last week, let alone the last twenty four hours, you smiled. Genuinely smiled.

“I’m so sorry I couldn’t find you sooner. If I-”

“It’s okay. You still found me. I’m okay.”

“I’m never letting you out of my sight again. And Emily will be here soon so it won’t just be me, you’ll have both of us. Maybe we can live like the Golden Girls.”

You struggled to laugh, but laughed all the same. “I’d like that.”

“Good, because you don’t have a choice.”

“I’ll give you two some space to plan your move,” Spencer smiled.

You smiled softly back at him as he slowly walked out of the room, but not before Penelope called his name. “Bring her back some jello! Orange, if they have it!”

Spencer nodded, however he didn’t need telling why orange. It was your favourite.

“How do you know that’s my favourite?”

“Emily told me.”

You smiled. There had been a week back in middle school when all you could stomach was orange jello. You’d have thought that after being sick for a week, you’d never want to eat it again. But that never happened.

The doctors kept you in hospital for the next couple of days whilst the rest of the team helped finish the last couple of cases at the police department.

When you were finally cleared to fly, Hotch and Emily were the ones to help you with your things.

Hotch explained what would happen when you all got back to the Bureau and what would happen with yourself and your job.

“I know you’ll be itching to get back to work, but I want you to take some time off.”

“I will. I promise.”

By the time you got to the jet, you weren’t up in the air an hour before you excused yourself from Rossi’s story time to sit by the one person who brought you the most peace.

“Mind if I sit here?”

Spencer smiled and shook his head, making space for you beside him on the sofa.

“Do you want to sleep?”

“What are you reading?”

He showed you.

“Wizard of Oz.”

“Want me to read it to you? Studies have shown it helps with sleep.”

“I’d like that.”

Within twenty minutes, you were fast asleep against Spencer’s chest. He’s turned himself so you could lean against him and see the small pictures that had been drawn, as he read.

And thankfully, Rossi’s stories kept everyone distracted long enough for yourself and Spencer to not experience the embarrassment of getting caught in such a compromising position, considering you were both just meant to be friends.

A week later…

Yourself and Spencer had seen Emily off in the Airport, and after that, Spencer had driven you home. You’d stopped off for some chinese food on the way back, and even though you’d both had…half conversations about what you’d said in the hospital, neither of you had come right out and said, well, anything.

Until you stopped in your tracks, forcing Spencer to do the same.

“Is everything-”

“I feel I need to confess something.”

“Do you need a church or-”

“It’s not that kind of confession.” you turned to face Spencer fully.

In two weeks time, you’d be going back to work. And you couldn’t take another two weeks, plus additional ones of whatever the awkward…thing was between you both. Like you each knew each other's secret, but didn’t know its full whereabouts.

“I love you,” you told him, finally. “I know it seemed forced, but it was the truth nonetheless. I love you. I am in love with you and…I don’t know what to do about it. Because, first and foremost, you’re my friend. And no matter what, I don’t want to lose what we have. I love you, but most of all I like you. I like being around you. I like listening to you talk about different books and music and the fact that whales can produce sounds up to 188 decibels. I-”

“I love you, too.”

That forced you to stop. And Spencer could see your eyes searching for an explanation.

“I don’t know how it happened. All I know is that one day I just…breathed for the first time. That I saw you and knew that if I stopped, I might die.”

“Sounds a little dramatic.”

Spencer laughed a little. “I guess it does. But it’s true. I’m in love with you. And I like you, too.”

You smiled.

“You know, I had a crush on you for the longest time.”

“Really? How long?”

Part of it baffled Spencer that you had perhaps had feelings for him longer than he did you, but most of all it baffled him how he hadn’t noticed.

“For a while…”

With a smile, you felt yourself leaning into Spencer. And he felt himself do the same thing until finally your lips met his.

The kiss was gentle at first, but became a little more searing as his hand gently brushed the hair from your face to behind your ear, and pulled you a little closer.

And you both just stood there for a while, pressed against each other, allowing each kiss to let you both know it was, in fact, very real.

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incognit0slut · 1 year ago

Text

Right Kind of Wrong (17)

She never thought she’d be involved in a murder investigation and encounter her one-night-stand again, the awkward guy who isn’t exactly that good in bed—Or is he? Offended by the sentiment, Spencer is determined to prove her wrong… But as he gets tangled with the beautiful stranger, he realizes there is more to her than what meets the eye.

Part Summary: Spencer and Y/n try to outsmart the situation. wc: 3.5k Series Warnings: 18+ explicit content, graphic details of murders, mentions of suicide, mentions of SA A/n: this took longer because trying to come up with a climax scene was SO hard, I hope I did some justice here

Other parts: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16

HER BODY ACHED. Every muscle seemed to join a protest, sending out persistent signals of pain. The cold air seemed to snake through her limbs, and the chains that bound her wrist seemed to cut into her flesh. The bed underneath didn't do much to ease things—it was as stiff as a board, offering about as much comfort as the floor.

She wasn’t sure how long she had been here. It was likely no more than a week, but it felt like months. Maybe hunger messed with her head, making everything feel fuzzy. The lack of nutrition had her feeling delirious. For someone who claimed to be in love with her, Eric showed no mercy for her well-being.

Of course, he didn't, she thought, because there was no love in the first place, no genuine care, no honest affection—just an illusion crafted by his distorted mind.

Her eyes drifted shut, and a sigh escaped her lips. The air in the barn was thick, almost suffocating, with its heavy, musty scent. It offered no peace for her tonight—or was it already early morning? The darkness seemed to stretch endlessly, blurring the line between night and dawn.

But something felt different.

The atmosphere shifted abruptly, a quiet change that quickened her heart. The unmistakable sound of a vehicle reached her ears before it abruptly stopped on the other side of the wall. A car door creaked open, accompanied by distant voices. Then came the purposeful footsteps, growing louder with each step as they approached her.

The barn door groaned in protest, creaking open slowly, letting in a thin ray of dim light. Her breath caught as Eric stepped in. Yet, it wasn't his presence that shocked her; it was the man he dragged along, someone she least expected to see.

Her eyes widened. Spencer?

He was here. He was really here, right in the flesh, making it harder for her to breathe. Because he looked worlds apart from the last time she saw him—his shirt dirty, bruises marking his face, clear signs of whatever ordeal he'd been through. It also seemed like he hadn't slept for days. His eyes appeared hollow and vacant, yet as they met hers, she noticed a glimmer of relief.

Tears welled up in her eyes. All she wanted was to run into his arms, find comfort in his embrace, and let out the tears for everything that had gone wrong. But she couldn't do anything when she was bound with chains while his hands were tied behind his back. And as glad as she was to see him, it registered her to why he was even here. Anger suddenly flared through her body as she leveled her gaze on Eric with a glare.

"What the hell are you doing?"

He pushed Spencer forward, forcing him to stumble, landing him on his knees. "A little present for you," Eric taunted. "Aren't you glad to see him?"

Spencer looked at her with concern, his eyes slowly assessing every inch of body. His stomach churned when he took in how fragile she looked. She seemed so weak, so helpless, being held captive with those repulsive chains binding her wrist.

“Are you…” he muttered, his voice barely a whisper. “Are you okay?”

It was a dumb question. Of course she was far from being fine. But he had to say it, he needed to interact with her to make sure she understood how much it pained to see her like this.

But before she could respond to him, Eric noticed the interaction and pulled out a knife. Her heart pounded in her chest as she watched him circle Spencer, the glint of the blade caught in the dim light, sending a chill through the air.

The cold steel of the knife traced sinister patterns in the air, and she couldn't tear her eyes away from the dangerous dance. "What do you want?" she demanded, her voice shaking but defiant. "Let him go. This has nothing to do with him."

Eric chuckled and shook his head. "Oh, but it does. He's hurt you, and I need to do something about it."

"Eric, please," she pleaded. "You don't need to do this."

He ignored her pleas and narrowed his eyes on Spencer. "What do you think, Dr. Reid? Should I let you go? Let you free while I'm left alone with her, doing anything that I please." Spencer glared at him and Eric's smile grew wider. "That's what I thought."

He started pacing between them again, casually playing with the knife in his hands. "You know, I usually kill my victims before I write anything on their bodies, but tonight I'm making an exception." His eyes glazed over to her. "I think it'll be fun to do the other way around."

The ominous threat hung heavy in the air, and her heart pounded wildly in her chest. Spencer's eyes flashed with defiance, though his bound hands limited his ability to physically intervene. She locked eyes with him. They both knew the odds were stacked against them.

“You don't have to do this,” she begged once more, desperation lacing her voice.

"But I do Sweetheart, I really do." He focused his attention back on Spencer. "Now, what do you reckon I should choose for you, Dr. Reid?"

Eric continued to circle, a predator reveling in the vulnerability of his prey. "What do you think of Proverbs 11:21?” He spread his hands out as if he was imagining the words were written in the sky. “'Be sure of this: The wicked will not go unpunished, but those who are righteous will go free'."

When he was met with silence, he approached Spencer with a menacing glint in his eye. "No? How about Proverbs 21:15 then? 'When justice is done, it brings joy to the righteous but terror to evildoers.'"

Spencer finally looked up and retorted, "Justice isn't about inflicting pain for the sake of satisfaction."

Eric glared back with a sadistic resolve. "The only way to cleanse the evil here is through suffering. Proverbs speaks the truth, whether you like it or not."

At that moment, Spencer's mind suddenly shifted gears, deciding to try a different approach. His narrowed eyes showed he was honing in, not just reacting but strategizing. He was about to do what he did best—understand people, especially those on the brink. Instead of just reacting to the danger, he aimed to get inside Eric's head. He wanted to observe Eric with an intensity that went beyond the immediate threat.

"You're a smart man, Eric,” he started, his tone measured and analytical. “I can see that you've been through a lot, maybe more than most. I don't think this is about justice anymore.”

He noticed Eric stopping from his casual pace around the narrowed space, and Spencer continued. “It seems like you want to reverse the roles. To be the one inflicting pain instead of receiving it."

Eric, though still wearing a facade of defiance, couldn't completely mask the flicker of unease that danced in his eyes. Spencer's words seemed to hit a nerve.

"What do you even know about my past?" He retorted, a hint of vulnerability seeping into his voice.

Spencer, maintaining his calm and analytical demeanor, continued his probing. "I don't need to know the specifics to recognize the signs. People who inflict pain are often trying to regain control over a part of their lives where they feel helpless."

Eric's grip on the knife tightened, his jaw clenching. "You're making assumptions, Dr. Reid. You don't know anything about what I've been through.”

Spencer met his gaze evenly. "I actually do, Eric," He paused, letting the words linger in the air. "Or should I call you Henry?"

The name hung in the air, a heavy silence enveloping the barn. Y/n’s eyes darted between the two men, her confusion mirrored in the furrow of her brow. Henry? His real name was Henry?

"Henry Wyatt," Spencer continued. "Troubled childhood, juvenile records. You changed your name and tried to leave the past behind."

There was a moment of silence as if Eric was weighing his next words. "I no longer associate with that name," he finally insisted, the defiance in his voice trying to mask the vulnerability that lingered beneath the surface.

"I don't think so,” Spencer remarked. “You're still him despite having a different life now. Your current action shows how you're still bound by the past."

Eric vehemently shook his head. "No."

"Your attempt to leave it behind is what brought us here."

"No," Eric shot back, frustration lacing his voice. “You’re wrong.”

"Your sense of betrayal is the root of your actions," He pressed. "Are you deeply hurt by Oliver that you seek revenge this far?"

A growl rumbled in Eric's throat, the grip on the knife tightening. "You have no right to bring that up," he spat out.

"I do, because I want you to realize that your need for revenge is a sign of weakness," Spencer continued with a calculated intensity, his words aimed at striking a nerve. "Not strength."

Eric shot a fierce glare at Spencer as his frustration reached a crescendo. "You know nothing about me. Don't pretend to understand."

"I do understand that inflicting pain won't change anything." His words hung in the air, a challenge that dared Eric to confront the truth.

The subtle tremors of Eric's clenched fists betrayed the storm within him. The knife, once held with purpose, now seemed almost precarious in his grip. Spencer's next move was strategic, pressing on despite the mounting tension. "Romans 12:21—Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good."

Eric's anger boiled over. "Stop talking."

But Spencer saw an opening and seized it. "Hurting others won't bring you the closure you seek."

"I said," Eric snarled, his patience wearing thin. "Stop. Talking."

"Ask yourself, Henry," Spencer goaded, deliberately emphasizing the name. "Is this really about justice, or is it about masking the pain you refuse to confront?"

"Fucking shut up!"

Eric's outburst reverberated through the barn as he grabbed onto the only source of lighting, an old lamp sitting on a nearby crate. He smashed it onto the floor towards Spencer, the crash of the lamp echoing like a gunshot.

Fragments of glass sprayed across the floor, some landing dangerously close to his knees as the room dimmed further, the broken lamp's feeble glow casting eerie shadows on the walls.

"You thought you could defy me?" Eric seethed, his voice low and menacing, closing the gap between them. "You're fucking wrong."

With a sudden, swift motion, Eric brought the knife dangerously close to Spencer's face. Y/n’s mind raced. She couldn't let Spencer get hurt. She had to do something, anything, to protect him.

"S-Stop!" she stammered, trying to intervene. The chains rattled as she tried to move. But Eric kept going, and she tried again with a desperate plea.

“Eric! Look at me! Please!” She begged. “I-I'll do anything!"

There was a slight halt in his steps. "What?" Eric paused.

"What are you doing?" Spencer's voice filled the air.

She glanced over to him, prepared to see the panic in his eyes. But despite the concern in his voice, he responded to her gaze with a silent plea, as if urging her to keep going.

He was onto something; she was sure of it, even if she wasn't sure of whatever plan he had in mind. She could tell by the slight shift in his demeanor before he quickly looked away. She sent him an understanding nod and redirected her attention to Eric, who was slowly turning toward her, oblivious of their interaction.

"I-I'll do anything you want," she repeated her words.

A sinister smile played on Eric's lips. "Really? Anything?" he taunted, a cruel glint in his eyes as he considered her offer.

"Yes, just—please, let him go.”

Eric's gaze shifted between her and Spencer, contemplating the power he held at that moment. "You'll do anything to save him?"

Her nod was hesitant but determined.

Eric's eyes gleamed with a malicious delight as he absorbed her desperation. "Anything, you say? That's quite a tempting offer."

"Just tell me what you want," she pressed, her voice quivering. "I'll do it, but you let him go. He doesn't need to be a part of this."

A wicked grin etched itself on his face. "Oh, it's not that simple, Sweetheart. You see, actions speak louder than words. I need a demonstration of your commitment."

Her mind raced, searching for a way to navigate through the situation. "Tell me what you want me to do," she pleaded, her eyes pleading for mercy.

He bent down and picked a shard of glass from the broken lamp scattered on the floor before throwing it to her feet.

"First, you're going to have to convince me that you're willing to endure pain for his sake." Eric gestured toward Spencer with the knife. "Hurt yourself, and maybe, maybe, I'll consider releasing him."

A chill ran down her spine as she comprehended his twisted demand. She shot a quick glance at Spencer. He met her eyes with a subtle nod, indicating that he was ready to seize the opportunity when it presented itself.

As Eric watched her, a maniacal excitement burning in his eyes, she knew she had to play along, at least for now. With trembling hands, she reached for the shard of glass, but she hesitated for a moment.

"Come on," Eric urged, the sadistic anticipation evident in his voice. "Prove your devotion."

Summoning every ounce of courage, she finally pressed the glass against her palm, wincing as it broke the skin. A suppressed gasp escaped her lips, but she fought to maintain a facade of resolve.

"Now, that's dedication," Eric mused, enjoying the spectacle of her distress. "But we're not done yet. I want more."

She fought back the nausea, the pain in her skin throbbing with each heartbeat. With a deep breath, she tightened her grip on the glass shard, her hands trembling as she looked up at Eric.

"What more do you want?" she demanded, desperation still present in her voice.

His eyes glinted with sadistic pleasure. "Cut deeper. Prove to me that you're willing to sacrifice for him."

Spencer's eyes widened in silent horror, but she shot him a reassuring glance. The shard pressed against her skin once again, but this time, she hesitated. The internal struggle was evident on her face.

"Do it!" Eric barked, reveling in his perceived triumph.

With a swift motion, she sliced the glass across her skin again, the pain intensifying. A muffled cry escaped her lips as she felt warmth seeping through her fingers.

"That's more like it," Eric praised, his eyes gleaming with madness. "Now, drop the glass."

She complied, releasing the shard to the floor with a gasp, her eyes never leaving Eric's. The room felt heavy with tension as he considered his next move.

"Now tell me you regret nothing, that you'd do it all over again for him," Eric demanded, the twisted satisfaction evident in his tone.

In a desperate attempt to stall him and buy time, she played into his game. "I regret nothing," she forced the words out, her voice steady despite the pain and fear. "I'd do anything for him."

Eric's triumphant grin faltered for a moment as if he expected her to break. But then, a cruel glint returned to his eyes. "Well, well, well. Seems like we have a devoted lover here.” A chuckle followed through. “But the night is still young."

A chilling silence took place as Eric continued to stare at her, his eyes traveling the line of blood dripping down her skin. His gaze traveled upwards to her shaking body before it settled on her pleading gaze. A sinister smile took hold of his face and she shivered at the sight.

"You know," he began, taking a step forward. "You look rather tempting covered in blood."

Her skin crawled at his words, and she fought to maintain a façade of compliance. The barn seemed to shrink around her as Eric advanced, his eyes fixated on her like a predator closing in on its prey.

"Look at you, all frightened and desperate." Eric continued, walking closer to her. "I'd say you're quite adorable now."

Every step he took sent a chill down her spine. Eric's sinister smile widened as he reveled in her discomfort. "You thought you could outsmart me, didn't you?" he sneered. "But here we are, and you're at my mercy."

In response, she swallowed her fear and shot back, "Your twisted games won't break me. I-I won't let you win."

His laughter echoed through the barn, a haunting sound that seemed to reverberate within the walls. "Oh, I'm afraid you've already lost, Sweetheart."

Her stomach dropped when she saw him unbuckling his belt with his free hand, the sound of its clinking metal echoed through the suffocating silence. Fear gripped her as Eric's intentions became painfully clear. She struggled against her restraints, her mind racing for a way out of this nightmare. "Y-You promised to let him go," she pleaded, her voice shaking.

"I said I'll consider releasing him," he corrected her. "And right now I'm considering giving him a show."

She felt a wave of nausea and revulsion. Fear clutched at her chest, threatening to overwhelm her. Every inch of her body ached, both from the physical torment and the psychological torture. The chains that bound her seemed tighter, cutting into her wrists.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" He taunted. "You'd let me use you while he watches how good I can make you feel."

He unzipped his pants.

“How you’d be screaming my name,” he grinned. “Secretly begging for more.”

His looming figure cast a shadow over her, his attention remained fixated on her. He was too focused on her that he didn't notice Spencer's stealthy movement behind him, and just as she braced herself for the worst, the unexpected happened.

"What do you think, Spencer? Let me—"

A sudden shot echoed in the room. The deafening sound rang through the barn, causing a momentary freeze in the air. Her eyes widened, pupils dilating in shock, as she watched a dark stain spread across Eric's shirt before he crumpled to the ground.

The gunshot rang in her ears and she blinked her eyes, trying to focus her attention on her surroundings. Then Spencer took over her line of sight, sitting on the floor with one leg stretched out. The time she had bid managed to help him escape from his restraints.

Her gaze then shifted to the subtle holster snug in his sock, revealing the hidden firearm he was carrying all along. Her eyes met his, his expression a blend of exhaustion and concern, and a heavy breath escaped him as he slowly lowered the gun.

Tears welled up in her eyes, blurring her vision. The weight of the situation hung in the air, and she couldn't find words to express the whirlwind of emotions coursing through her. The fear, the desperation, the relief—they were all tangled together. It was like a tornado had torn through, leaving her standing in the aftermath.

Spencer moved on instinct. Without saying a word, he stumbled towards her, sinking right on the mattress as he reached for her face. His hands were warm against her cold cheeks, and his eyes held a depth of regret as she stared into them.

"I'm sorry," was the first thing he said as he held her gaze. When the first cry escaped her lips, a raw and unfiltered release of the pent-up anguish, he pulled her into his arms without hesitation. Her wails echoed in the hollow space of the barn as he held her close and continued to utter his apology like a desperate prayer.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he choked, his voice sounding strained. "I'm so sorry."

Her sobs vibrated against his chest. She clung to him, her fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt, her blood staining the material. The scent of hay and the earthy musk of the barn intertwined with the warmth of his presence.

"S-Spence.." she murmured, her voice a mere whisper.

"Shh, I've got you." Spencer continued to cradle her, his lips pressed gently against the top of her head. His fingers traced soothing circles on her back. "It's over. I'm right here."

Between her cries, she managed to nod, clinging to him as if her life depended on it. And maybe it did. She wasn't sure she could function properly without his presence. So she focused solely on him—the rise and fall of his chest, the soft beating of his heart against her cheek. She shut out everything around her, not even bothering to ask how the authorities knew their location when she heard a faint siren coming from the distance.

The sound of people entering the barn didn't even faze her moments later. Or the way someone came up to them, insisting the two for a medical check. Instead, she shook her head and tightened her grip, and Spencer reassured the medics they’d come to them in a while.

Time seemed to stop at that moment as she pressed herself further into his arms. The world outside could wait, but for now, all that mattered was him.

>> NEXT PART

a/n: his escape scene is kind of a nod to that truth and dare episode, idk i felt like putting it into the plot :D

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