#I read here that people don't write enough of early seasons spencer so here is my contribution

[cecedownbad]

Warmth

Summary: A mystery man stumbled on to you, his gestures alone changing the dim scenery into a bright fantasy. [Spencer Ried x GN! Reader] CM meet cute (or not) Challenge by @imagining-in-the-margins

Prompt: Characters both duck for cover under the same tiny storefront when it starts pouring.

Warnings: No Y/N, fluff, I actually do not know how many research papers this man has read but I guessed. This is just so fluffy it had me smiling as I wrote it, I got a little carried away though, not proof read but I will do that later.

Word Count: 2.2k

Enjoy

The dim sky, like that of a faulty light bulb in a room that held photographs, locked away with a key lost to time. All that was bright now despondent to many, the sudden crystal like shine of streets drove away the few that knew staying any longer would cause a soaking mess and a cold to care for after.

Did that ever stop you from pacing by the side walk? With shoes scraping the fallen fire like leaves, a sign of a need for comfort and warmth. The ground wafting off a smell that should be telling enough for you to take cover but time was never one to wait.

Scraps of paper, terribly crumpled simply from agitation, held up to the very corners of your hands held largely a final draft of an assignment, meant to land on the Dean's desk this morning. This was the reason for due ignorance of the foretold scene yet to pass. Be it the wailing hums of the wind, or the dreary clouds, heavy with their low rumbles, much less a warning, more so a threat to parade a flood down the barren streets.

Then one fell.

Then another.

Every touch to the skin made you shiver, every drop ran down the outline of your face, tracing a path of yet another endless stream of worries. Shifting over, your hands shoved the sheets into the backpack you wore, a bag that now held evidence of lost sleep.

Squinted eyes now looking for cover, a refuge before the entirety of the flood gates open. Then, your eyes landed over a small, plainly described, old candy store. It had just the worn down, crooked, awning meant to cover you for the remainder of the downpour.

The store had worn down colours painted over the sides of the entrance, now locked with a chain rusted, abandoned to the elements. Though it did have an air of remembrance, a sudden haunt of the past had crossed you. It no longer had a sweet fragrance of chocolate, the twists of gummies or the sour rock candies. You'd stepped closer to the door, eyeing the cash register that must have seen better days, shelfs and boxes now empty, dust settling to fill in the air. It was displeasing to see the forgotten but whatever comes next should clear in a new sight to witness.

All that nostalgia popped, to the sound of sudden splashing, much like feet scurrying, heavy with each sound. Your head on a pivot, caught sight of the source, a person, one who looked like they too needed shelter from the rain. It was the direction said person had walked in that caused your initial frown, they wanted to take cover right where you stood. Of course, the tiny awning was perfect for a company of two, but it was you that preferred the solitude. By then, they made it, right infront of the store, one foot away from the much needed protection, but with a wobble, their lanky but lean feet, was on its way to meet the drenched street.

Quick as you were, you'd long discarded the frown, now your arms outstretched to catch the stranger, once latched on you pulled them towards you.

A sudden flash of hazel met you, you found the mystery man of the cause of your frown. Honeyed on the insides of the pupil, much like sun rays on a summer's day but rather dark, like that of a cool sunset. In that, he'd now looked at you with widened eyes, a tell enough for you to steady the stranger, parting your arms from his side.

"Thank you." He let out, clearing out the scene from seconds ago. Just like his eyes, his voice, was like a drizzle of honey over buttered toast. Soft, yet so endearingly warm. "Don't mention it." You consented.

Words no longer exchange between the two of you but your brain could not replace the Hazel eyes of the man stood next to you with a new memory. So, you glanced at him, observing, denoting, deducing his nature. His hands rubbed together, wiping it against the grey sweater, discarding the touch you'd shared in the time you grabbed him. That was when you reached in your pocket, grabbing a hold of a bottle of sanitizer and in an attempt to offer good will, you displayed the object to the man. He looked at your hand, then back at you, rather shaped brows now knitted at your gesture.

"You can use this, if you want to, you know, clean your hands." Hands still outstretched, a slight tremble befell them. "Thank you...again. You know, sanitizers usually contain 60-70% of alcohol, which is very high as compared to alchohic beverages. Since they are easily portable, fast and effective, it's often used when there isn't a handwashing station available but studies show that washing your hands with soap and water is still more effective than using an alcohol based sanitizer."

"...uhuh."

"Sorry..." The man hung his head low, a guilt riddled face bent over, possibly from rambling in what many made him believe were uneeded facts. "Oh, don't be sorry, I just had to take a moment to process that, you're right, I myself prefer using plain old soap and water after a long day." You squeezed the bottle over his hands, gazing as his finger rubbed in the solution.

You then watched as delight slightly brightened his face, his long hair now pushed back. A few disobeying strands fall on to the sides of his face. His hair reflected a burnt wood colour, paired with the colour of his clothes, he gave off a cool undertone but you couldn't help but feel the comfort of a blanket from his eyes alone.

"Were you going somewhere?" the question slipped out of you, a means to solidify a connection to the pretty stranger that slipped into your arms, but the question landed as odd as you met eyes with him. "It's totally okay if you don't want to answer that, I just, um, yeah." Your feet now relentlessly tapped on the ground, each sound echoing scores of annoyance. The cold touch of the wind hadn't helped much, hands now strongly gripped onto the straps of your bag, "I was actually on my way to work...What about you? I can tell that you are a student solely based on your attire, you must have something important to submit if you were willing to walk out here despite the signs of rainfall." He deducted, eyes peering at you. They were clear and sure of their focus, almost causing you to wander through all the reaches of the honeyed rays.

"You have excellent observational skills, I have an assignment draft to submit for approval, the Dean had said and I quote, 'If I don't see the papers on my desk at precisely 9:15 in the morning, none of you will be rewarded credits or be given a chance to redeem scores lost.' So, well you can imagine." You explained, he smiled at your impression of the aforementioned Dean. Another denotation had been made, the colour of his lips, a soft pink hue, the sharp but perfect lines that formed around them. In that short observation, your mind had run miles imagining a scene where you were the only cause for his otherworldly smiles.

"Would you mind if I take a look?"

"What?"

"At your draft? I may be able to spot mistakes, I can offer suggestions, I have read a lot research papers, 6,846 to be exact, so this might be more efficient than having to wait for your dean to look over them." As he offered, your mind took a leap at the sheer amount of material he had gone through, "You read 6,846 research papers? How did you keep count? How do you read that much anyway?" Disbelief laced your voice, the man it was directed to, however, was used to the lack of trust his words produce. "I have an eidetic memory, simply meaning I can remember something that I read or heard for good and I can read 20,000 words per minute." His mouth formed a flat line as his lips were pulled in.

"So, you are what society calls a 'genius', to think I'd meet one in the flesh." A grin spread across your face, "Okay, let me guess, you have a high IQ too? Say over 180?"

"You are a really good guesser. Yes, my IQ is over 180, it's 187." The both of you smiled at one another at this exchange. The worry within you washed away, much like the rain before you that seemed to clear away the history of the many that walked the pavements. "But before I hand over a very important assignment, could I get your name, sir genius?"

He lightly laughed at your intentions but responded no later, "Spencer Reid." You engraved his name to all crevices of your mind, manually sorting through today and labeling each new memory made under a new category. With formalities out of the way, you handed over the sheets of paper, having remarked that you have written worse so this should be okay to the eyes of a person you just met.

Less than two minutes later, just when you got lost to the drops of water breaking every reflection it made. Spencer declared that he'd read the draft, "There are 5 grammatical errors, 17 sentences with unnecessary words. If you take a look at this passage, you can add a line that compares the topic given to the opposite end of the spectrum it represents." As his fingers grazed the words present on the paper, his voice lowered in volume. An effect of this leading you to lean over to him, convinced all movements made for just the reason to hear him clearly.

All the bells rang through your ears, realisation now screaming through you. When the last word had been uttered, a sudden loss had built up inside you, the pleasant dips of his voice had struck a need for more. You could listen to him speak for time unnumbered, if the world let you.

"Thank you, for helping me and for making standing in the rain less tedious." You graciously smiled at him. His eyes turned up, letting you witness that beautiful smile once again, a graceful 'you're welcome' that require no words. This time you will remember to keep your imagination from expanding on futures one would have no have no sure way of proving.

"There is actually a way to get less wet in the rain, it's been scientifically proven." Spencer stated, "There is?"

How quickly seconds became hours in the two words that left your mouth. Your eyes watched as Spencer's hand grabbed on to yours, his smile now turning to excitement of that of a teenage boy. Each action was slow to your sight but before all else, you were running with a man you just met under the rain. And his response to your question?

"Run!"

The cool but harsh force of the downpour fell to the once dry face of yours. Unlike the traces they carved before, they painted your face with a new shine.

Could that ever stop you?

He led you on and with a white flag raised, you let him. Wherever he may take you, let him, that was your conclusion.

Cold and dreary as the scene may reveal, all you saw was the bright rays exuding from your mystery man. You had his name, you engraved it, no requirement for force needed to remember his name, but Spencer will be your mystery man. A touch of curiosity to learn from him and about him only added to the remark.

Before you knew it, you'd been brought in to another store, though this was alive in all its glory. Nothing worn down enough to make any assumption of abandonment, no remnants of a past forgotten, but the present that shone a colour you began to love, hazel. The smell no longer lost to time, burnt and welcoming, ground coffee beans, fresh and ready to be served. A café.

"It's been proven the faster you run in the rain, the drier you’ll be, regardless of the additional raindrops you run into." Spencer breathed out, your head snapped at him, looking away from the new scene you ran into. A few seconds, that's all it took, a hearty laugh left you at the revelation.

"A-are you okay?" He asked, mostly out of concern for the sudden change in behaviour you displayed. "I- Yes, I'm fine, geez, phew!" You sighed, catching your breath, "You are one hell of a genius, Spencer."

"Uh, thank you?"

After clearing your throat, you walked further in the café, finding just the right spot to dry off. You gestured for Spencer to come over, he followed, taking extra breaths as he dragged his feet to the empty chair.

Unbothered by the looks you both received, you sat, heaving out a heavy breath. Your eyes meeting hazel, only this time surprise didn't engulf them, they looked, no, they gazed at you with endearment. With each passing second, you couldn't rid yourself of the imprint he left in your hand. The warmth that laced over it, all the while shielding you from the icy brush of the rain.

[lucentloo]

Gift Giving

Summary: Spencer and reader share the love language of gift giving, however, Spencer seems to get reader gifts that she feels like she shouldn’t have since she can’t afford the same for him. 

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Wc: 1740

Content Warnings: Female reader, somewhat poor reader, not feeling good enough, gift giving love language for both Spencer and reader, no y/n, first fic ever, there might be swearing but I doubt it, season 6/7 Spencer, reader works in a restaurant, that should be all (If I’ve missed any please tell me)

a/n: I'm sorry if this sucks really bad but it's my first time writing and I thought I'd give it a try, thank you for reading and if you have any tips for me to get any better please share, have a nice day/night!

You’re staring at the small box on your counter as you hold the phone to your ear waiting for Spencer to pick up. The case he's working on is a crazy one though so you don't have much hope. You wait a few more seconds before giving up and stopping the call. The box on the counter is black with a pristine white ribbon tied and a bow on top. This is the third gift this month from your boyfriend and he doesn’t even have a reason.

You chew your lip as your eyes narrow at the box as if your glare could make it disappear from your kitchen. But alas, it stays exactly where it is. 

You don't hate the gifts, in fact gift giving is one of your love languages, you just feel so guilty that you can’t give Spencer anything back. You’ve tried to buy him something nice one time but that left you without food for a week and you couldn’t do that again without starving yourself. 

With a sigh you grab the box with the silver necklace and make your way to your bedroom to get ready for bed. After you shower and get into your pajamas (Spencer's hoodie and fuzzy socks) you climb into bed and contemplate what to do.

Ever since you were little you were always the kid with the worst birthday present at parties, or you were never the wished upon secret santa at christmas. You don’t have enough money to lavish your love on Spencer like you wish you did. It made you feel bad whenever you got something knowing you couldn’t get him anything like it in return.

You turn on your side and try to push away that persistent feeling that you’re not doing enough, that Spencer deserves someone who can afford to love him. Eventually you grow too tired to think anymore and slip your eyes shut. Sleep comes easier than it should that night and you���re only woken by your alarm early in the morning.

Spencer was worried.

He usually feels at ease with you and knows he can trust you to take care of yourself when he’s gone. However, this week you’ve barely seen him let alone your own bed. Anytime Spencer calls to hang out or take you out on a date he’s interrupted by a, “sorry handsome I’ve picked up the night shift,” or, “I’m filling in for Sandy since she’s out for the day, sorry baby,” and he can’t seem to find a time, day or night, that you’re available.

So he comes up with the only solution. He’s going to your work to forcefully pull you away from your job and take you to his apartment. When he gets there he’s surprised to see that the restaurant is quiet and not bustling like usual. He only spots two people eating at a table and one server walking around. That server isn’t you.

Spencer walks up to the server, Kate, and asks if you’re on break.

Kate looks at Spencer in surprise. “Um no, she left a few minutes ago to go home. The boss made her, apparently she’s been here for, like, three days straight.” she says the last part in a whisper like she’s gossiping to her friend in her high school cafeteria.

Spencer nods and whispers a quick “Thank you” before going back out to the parking lot. He knew he saw your car when he drove in here and decides to check the employees parking, just for reassurance.

Sure enough when he got there he saw your car parked right in front of the back entrance. The car was on and it looked like it was ready to go at any minute. Spencer furrowed his brows as he got closer and looked through your window. There you were, in your car with your uniform still on, sleeping like a baby.

Spencer smiled despite his concern, admiring your peaceful state in the quiet of the night. He doesn’t want to wake you from your sleep knowing it’s probably the most you’ve gotten all week but he needs to make sure you’re okay. 

Spencer knocks on your window and gives a slight chuckle when you jump up in shock. He smiles awkwardly and gives a little wave as you look at him with hard eyes that turn soft when you realize who it is. You unlock the door and step out with a stretch. You yawn before slumping against Spencer.

“Hey baby, why are you sleeping in your car?” Spencer asks softly. He’s trying not to wake you up too much as he wraps his arms around your waist to keep you upright. His heartbeat soothes you enough to let you stay in the drowsy state you find yourself in. Spencer feels you lean more weight on him as your arms encircle his slender form.

“Got off work and felt too tired to drive home.” It was hard to understand you since your face was pressed against Spencer's chest but he heard you well enough to look down at you in concern. He held onto you tighter as he sighed before bending down to pick you up. 

“Let’s get you home sweet girl,” Spencer whispers into your ear as you shut your eyes again and fall back asleep. 

When you wake up the next morning the first thing you register is Spencer's arms around your torso and his breaths blowing down your neck. You groan and shield your eyes from the sun that shines through the curtain and turn your body until you’re cuddled up into Spencer's hold. Your face is pushed into his chest to better hide yourself from the light. 

Spencer shifts slightly and you feel his hand start rubbing up and down the expense of your back. You take a breath in and you’re immediately comforted by the familiar smell of Spencer. He somehow still smells like coffee despite just waking up and he’s got the lingering smell of his cologne that he wore the night before.

 You pull back slowly to look into at him with a small smile before recognition flashes through your eyes. “I’m not at work,” you whisper to Spencer, “I had an early shift today, Spence, baby, I need to be at work.” You try to untangle yourself from Spencer’s tight hold on you but don’t succeed. “Spencer, I'm not joking. I need to leave.”

Spencer shakes his head. “No.”

You look at him, not amused. “No?”

Spencer shakes his head again as his arms hold you impossibly tighter. “No.”

You sigh and stop struggling. Finally looking into his eyes you see the confusion and concern that’s directed at you. And damn does that make you feel guilty. The little seed that was planted at the beginning of the week just keeps growing and growing.

Spencer seems to sense the conflict you feel and kisses the top of your head. “I need you to take a break and tell me what’s going on. You’ve been distant and short with me, and I miss you, I want to see you.” Spencer whispers the confession in the silent room and it makes you tear up a little.

Your head lowers as you try to hide yourself under his blanket. The embarrassment floods through you as guilt eats your inside whole. “I’m sorry,” is all you can manage to say to him. 

Spencer hums in acknowledgment before sitting up and bringing you with him. He sits you on his lap so you’re facing him and he lifts your chin so he can peer into your eyes. “Baby, there’s no need to say sorry, just tell me what's going on in that head of yours, hm?” 

You take a shaky breath in before slowly letting it out to keep your tears at bay. The attempt seems futile though as you can’t seem to hold it together. “I can’t get you anything nice.” You say in a whimper as small sobs escape your lips and you hide your face in his neck.

Spencer’s lips turn down in concern as he thinks about what you just said. His thumb draws small circles on your waist as he contemplates how to go about this. “What do you mean sweetie? You give me nice things all the time.” Spencer tries to point out the things you’ve given him in the past - cookies, a new tie, the pen he uses every day - but it just makes you feel even worse. Those are things that shouldn’t even be considered gifts, let alone nice ones.

“No, n-no, you always get me these necklaces and, and books, and things that I could never afford.” Your sobs interrupt your speech slightly but It doesn’t deter you. “I just want to repay you, give you something nice for a, a change but instead I wo-worry you.” You burst into tears again as you squeeze Spencer tighter.

“Woah, woah, okay, hey, it’s okay. Baby I don’t need those kinds of gifts, I just need you. Is that why you were overworking yourself?” Spencer asks in a worried tone. His lips find the top of your head again as you nod your head against his neck. You hear him sigh before pulling back slightly. You raise your head to look at him and he wipes your tears away when he cups your cheek.

“Your health and happiness come way before an object I don’t even need.” He says in a stern yet soft voice. You lower your head to hide your face but he moves his head as well to keep eye contact. “Hey, I’m being serious, I don’t want you to work yourself crazy just to afford a gift. You’re way too important to me.” Spencer whispers the last part before giving you a soft kiss. 

You sigh after the kiss and look up at Spencer. “But that’s how I show my love, I don’t see you a lot so I like to give you gifts.” Spencer smiles as his thumb strokes your cheek.

“So keep giving me cookies and pens, they really do make my day.” Spencer goes in for another kiss that has you smiling more than you have in days. 

“Okay,” You whisper against his mouth.

Spencer kisses your cheek, then nose, then your other cheek, then your eyebrows, he does this until you’re a giggling mess. “I love you so much.” He finally says as he kisses your lips again.

“I love you too.”

[writersrkive]

hi!! i just read your spencer fic about telling him not to shut up. i specifically loved the fact that the reader’s first language isn’t english, i feel like the majority of the fandom doesn’t have english as their first language.

could you write something where the reader’s first language isn’t english and they’re having trouble with their paperwork because people tend to use a lot of difficult words, and spencer notices it and helps them out? maybe reader often stays late to finish working because they need to read sentences multiple times to fully understand them?

if you don’t feel like writing this feel free to skip or write anything else <3

(it’s getting late for me here but i look forward to reading more of your work when i come back from work tomorrow :)

have a good day!!

A little help never hurts | Spencer Reid

summary: Paperwork days are hell, especially for you, since English isn't your first language. You don't say anything to any of your coworkers because you're afraid they will see you as incapable of doing your work, but one genius boy might have been looking at you a lot and definitely notices something is wrong. He is determined to help you. An extra help never hurts, right?

genre: fluff, comfort

pairing: early seasons!Spencer Reid x bau!reader

warnings: English isn't reader's first language, mention of reader being from another country (I think that's all, but let me know!)

a/n: Omg, my second request! I loved the idea, thanks! I hope you like it rebel-ezra (does this notify you when I answer your inbox or do I have to tag people when it's not anon? lol, sorry). I'm excited to see how much you enjoy this one, and I'm sorry if it's not as good as you expected. English isn't my first language, please be kind <3.

Happy New Year, reader! I hope you can get distracted a little with this fic if, if you need to. You did it! Next year we have more people, places and things to know, hugs!

important: Are you guys interested in being in a Criminal Mind's tag list for my fics? If that's the case, let me know in the comments, please. I might be doing one if there's enough people.

Masterlist Spanish ver. On Wattpad (coming soon)

The feeling of pressure on your head and the emptiness of your stomach has stressed you since a few hours ago. You didn't have anything to eat since the doughnut and cup of coffee that García offered you in the morning when she arrived. But you weren't close to going home.

Paperwork was always a pain in the ass, but especially for the poor newest member of the BAU. Why is that? Well, your mother language wasn't English, and of course you had a good level —otherwise you wouldn't have the opportunity to study and work in the U.S.A.—, but the documents were too formal and technical given the seriousness of the issues being discussed.

“Shit.” You whispered, typing a new confusing and complicated word on your computer for the third time in an hour.

“Hey, do you want to go to my place after work? Tonight seems like a free night, if duty doesn't call.” Emily had approached you with a warm smile, knowing that paperwork was never easy.

“Thanks, Em. But I think tonight I'm going home to rest. It's been a long week.” But you gave that answer because at that point, it was routine to stay way later than your workmates.

Spencer was coming back from the bathroom, ready to take his stuff and go home. It was really late, so he thought he was the only one besides Hotch in the office. However, he saw you at your desk: your head resting on a dictionary, the computer next to you and several post-it notes stuck in the drawers of your desk.

He called your name twice, but of course the sleep you were immersed in did not allow you to hear it. Footsteps were heard in the darkness. There were just a few desk lamps on, that's why he was able to see your peaceful expression. He touched your shoulder slightly and when you opened your eyes, all you saw was a shy smile.

“Reid, what's wrong?” You asked, feeling your head throbbing.

“Are you okay? You fell asleep.” He whispered.

“Oh… Yeah… I'm okay.”

“Are you sure? You seem pretty tired. It's late so maybe you should go home”

“Don't worry. I have work to get done anyway.” You sighed, remembering how you still had to review a quarter of documents.

“What? But you have been working on this for hours.”

His comment made you blush. Of course you haven't told anyone how hard it was to review every document twice or even thrice to be sure that you didn't misunderstand or mistranslate anything. Somehow you felt that if anyone knew they would criticize or mock you. Not that you thought about your coworkers being mean, but through your journey of learning another language and moving from your country, you met all kinds of people. Also, you didn't want to be seen as weak or incapable of doing your job.

“Today was just a lot, that's all.”

“You usually work quickly, though I think I know what's going on. You keep a dictionary on your desk and usually carry a pocket version in your backpack, the days when you leave work late are paperwork days and you usually close the translator tab on your computer as soon as someone approaches your desk.” He explained looking around your stuff as if he was analyzing everything. “Is it about the language?”

“Yes, yes it is, okay? There, I said it!” Your frustrated tone made Spencer realise how tired you were about the situation. You didn't even try to deny it, you just hid your face around your arms, leaning on your desk —as if you were recreating the position he found you asleep previously—.

“Hey, but what's wrong with that?” He asked softly.

“What do you mean ‘what's wrong with that'? I'm supposed to understand everything that is on the documents, but I become slower because I have to verify and translate information that I don't understand because it is a more technical language.” The words were audible enough to him even though your face was still hidden.

“Do you realize English isn't your first language, right?” He tried to get you to look at him, but it didn't work. “Everyone in this work has difficulties when it comes to other languages. You don't have to feel bad because it's happening to you.”

“Does it happen to you?” Your shy eyes met his.

“Not really.” He answered with a hint of a cocky smile.

“See?”

“Well, I didn't say anything about me, you were the one who asked. Besides, I'm trying to be more sociable.” His comment made you chuckle slightly, but that chuckle became a laugh when you repeated what he said in your mind. “You are really funny, do you know that?”

“A-Am I?” The way you were looking at him, with a tired, yet cute, expression and a little smile, made his heart skip a beat.

“Yeah…”

“Well, I can also be of great help at work. Let me help you with the files.”

“It's not necessary.”

“It is. You need to rest, so let me get started while you go to the machine for something to eat. A little help never hurts.” He whispered, already taking the documents.

“Fine.”

A few minutes later you returned with an open package of cookies. You stopped for a moment, admiring the furrowed eyebrows of the genius boy who was reading the files with a lot of attention. Then you realized how fortunate you were for having coworkers like him. Or maybe was he himself the one who was so amazing that you would never get tired of working with him.

“Agent. Can I talk with you for a second?” Hotch's voice welcomed you the next morning.

Spencer's view followed your figure to the boss’ office and that didn't go unnoticed by his best friend.

“Pretty boy had fun yesterday?” Derek teased.

“What?”

“You know… Penelope said that last night Hotch wasn't the only one who left work late. You and our new colleague had a date at work?” His strong arm embraced the other's shoulders.

“N-No! I thought we were the only ones… No! Nothing happened!” Spencer struggled to say.

“Reid, can we talk?” Your voice made him turn around. He just hoped you weren't angry.

“What is it? Is everything alright?” He asked when both of you walked into an empty hallway.

“Actually, yes. Apparently Hotch received a request from the team's genius profiler to work with me on my paperwork days. So, you are having trouble concentrating on the files because of some headaches and need someone to work with?” As you spoke your tone of voice slowly reflected, with a mocking tone, that you knew perfectly well why Spencer had spoken to Hotch.

“Am… Yeah. Headaches are the worst.” He whispered looking to the floor.

“Thanks, Spence.” You said with sincere gratitude. Spencer looked at you again and felt a weight lift off his shoulders when he realized that you weren't mad at him.

“Sure. Whatever you need, I'm here for you… as coworkers, of course!” His voice got a little higher when he clarified immediately.

You were about to walk past him to return with the others, but then he spoke again. “Do you think maybe we can go and have coffee on a free day? I mean, I can help you with the words that are difficult for you. And, actually, I was thinking that I might need help with your language too. We can help each other, you know?” He gulped.

“Sure. A little help never hurts.” You smiled and walked away hiding a smile while Spencer was left alone, standing in the middle of the hallway, unable to believe that he had just asked you out. “Hotch is gonna kill me if he finds out…”

[reiderwriter]

Thoughts on unsub spencer reid fics?

Hi! I'm not sure if you wanted more of a general answer or meant this as a headcanon or gen request, so I'm just going to go purely on vibes and answer this as a question.

Spencer as an Unsub - Thoughts

Disclaimer: Anything negative said here is absolutely not an insult towards any specific writer or fic. I don't really read unsub Reid fics, due to facts I'm about to get into, so I'm really not knowledgeable enough to be throwing shade 💀 This is personal opinion!

I personally would need a lot of convincing to believe in an "unsub" Spencer Reid.

In Criminal Minds, it's clear from very early into the show that Spencer is very empathetic with certain unsubs. The entire team have their own types of cases that they get more personally involved in (Morgan and cases involving child victims, JJ and apparent suicides, Emily and quote unquote battered women cases) but Spencer is the only one whose personal attachment to cases leaves him empathising with the unsub instead of the victim.

He's the only member of the team who could have seen himself committing violent acts the way unsubs do had his life veered down a different path. And, based on Spencer's background and the psychology of the show, he's probably right to be concerned.

He's a white male, at the peak of the show in his mid to late thirties, with a background of abuse and a family history of mental illness. By season four, we know he's highly skilled with a gun, and by season 12/13, we see that he can be pushed to violence when he is at the very edge of his limitations.

And then they make his character so intrinsically moral that you never question him ever again.

To a certain extent, Criminal Minds is about the perpetual cycles of abuse that human kind can inflict upon itself. Many of the unsubs were once victims, some of them perhaps still are. The heroes of the story are characters who have been able to break the cycle.

Spencer is neglected as a child. He has an absent father abandon him, a mother with schizophrenia who does physically beat him when she is having an episode. He is bullied heavily in school for his high IQ and his lack of social skills. But he is shown to deeply care for him mother and empathise with her deeply instead of coming to resent her like many of the unsubs in that situation. He resents his father, for sure, but instead turns that resentment into drive, leading him to "just keep getting more PhDs." And his personal experiences with bullying allow him to empathise with the unsubs that have gone through similar circumstances.

So I don't think canonically, Spencer is ever in danger of becoming an unsub. He deeply cares about the world and the people around him, and whilst he does have a kill count on the show, he either expresses deep remorse at having to oull the trigger, or it is in the best interest for everyone involved.

Basically, all that to say: I think Unsub Spencer Reid in fanfiction has to be written incredibly carefully, or it runs the risk of being very out of character. To be clear, I'm not too bothered about characters being slightly out of character in fics because it happens. I've probably written a lot of stuff where Spencer is OOC, too. And that's fine.

I do kind of draw the line at grabbing random unsub traits from the show and giving them to Spencer for a fic. For example, Spencer would never end up as a sexual sadist. He probably wouldn't be a spree killer, either. Not that anyone wants my writing advice, but if you're writing an unsub Spencer fic, think about his background and the profiles they generally give for the kind of signature/ crimes you're about to give him.

If this was a request, I apologise for the misunderstanding. But here's a little hint at what I might do with a general "unsub Reid" request.

☆ It would most likely take place after the events of Season 12/13.

☆ It's angst or nothing.

☆ The basic plot: Reid's headaches come back after taking a blow in the field. He tries seeking help for it but can't find any relief. On his next case, because of his chronic pain, he makes a mistake that gets his teammate, the reader, shot. The unsub escapes, but the reader falls into a coma. When it looks like reader is not going to pull through, he tracks down the unsub and beats his to death after a brawl. Massive overkill. The reader pulls through that night, and he feels no guilt for getting that monster off the street. But each time the readers health takes a turn, or they require a new surgery, he is compelled to go back out there and track down and kill another serial killer until the reader finally wakes up.

☆ I don't think it'd be very well received because there would be no morally grey smut. This is some tragic angst shit only, lmao.

☆ please don't put a request for this in my inbox. If I feel like writing it later, I might, I don't have the brain power right now, though 💀

That's all I've got right now, but I'd love to hear other people's thoughts on unsub Reid :)

[ktdragonborn]

Another Spencer. (Chapter 2)

Carlton Lassiter X Female Reader (Shawn's Sister)

Summary: You finally moved back to California after almost 15 years away. When your mom and dad separated, your dad got Shawn and your mom took you. (Don't ask me why it's just what they agreed on). But now you're back! And you never expected to meet such a dashing Detective that would sweep you off your feet.

Characters: You, Carlton, Shawn and Gus, Juilet, Henry Spencer (dad), Madeleine Spencer (mom), Chief Karan Vick, mention of many other characters.

Warnings: Some bar tension, some dude tries to hit on you for approximately three seconds, so nothing bad. There will be smut and other graphic scenes as the story progresses.

~This story follows the show Psych. Plots from episodes are mentioned and some chapters will have you added to them. I do not own any characters from the TV Psych, just a big fan of the show and a bigger fan of our boy Lassie. I couldn't ever find something that hit my craving for Lassiter so here I am. This will also be a very long story. Very long. I'm starting it towards the end of Season 2 and plan on writing it throughout the whole show, skipping some episodes but in the end, it'll be very long.~

I forgot to add this to the first chapter, but let me know in the comments if you wanna be added to the tag list! Thank you everyone for the support so far on this story!

Chapter 1

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You walked into your office bright and early in the morning. It was only your second week in California, let alone in this office, and you were still getting used to traffic and the city's layout. So much had changed since you last visited Santa Barbara, and it was a tad overwhelming at times. 

You turned on the overhead lights and started to prep your office for the day. Small lamps where you conducted your sessions and plenty of green plants around your office. It wasn't a huge area. There was a small lobby entrance for a waiting room-type thing. You had filled the room with a couch and a couple of chairs with a coffee table. Magazines and books for people to read as well as a water cooler. A small desk sat next to the door that led to the larger part of your office. There was a computer and phone set up. No one used it except for you, you weren't busy enough to justify hiring a receptionist- although you have thought about reaching out to Shawn since you know he's bored when he doesn't have a case to work. 

You set your bag down and grabbed everything you needed for the day from your desk. Thankfully, you had two new clients today. Your full schedule included four patients, two new ones, and two “regulars”. They were the first two to join your clinic and have been coming to you ever since. You were thankful for their “business”, and they had been spreading the word about you to their friends, promising every time they see you that they’ve got friends trying to find time to come see you. You set up in the larger room, sitting in your “therapist chair” as Shawn so lovingly described it. You read over the file of the first patient today. They wanted a check-up/check-in with their mental health. In the file they described what they had been feeling, they had been anxious in the workplace and began to realize that their friends were quite toxic. You began to formulate some reasonings and diagnoses for their ailment, just preparing yourself for the appointment but you knew you would keep an open mind throughout the appointment. You looked at the time and realized your patient would be here soon. You got yourself and your patient some water and sat down in your chair awaiting their arrival. 

~I know, You know~

You breathed deeply, leaning back in your desk chair. You moved your hands up to your eyes, giving them a good rub before sitting back up and packing up all your belongings. Today had been a long day. Simple enough, however, one of your returning patients came in with some new drama as she loved to describe it. You probably knew more about this girl's life than her parents at this point and you were happy about it. You were glad you could be the safety net that she needed. However, you knew now that you needed a drink. You shut off the lights and locked the door behind you, heading to your car and going to the closest bar you knew of. 

~They just don’t have any proof~

The problem about being a girl in California in a bar all by yourself is being a girl in a bar all by yourself. Unfortunately, the state you're in doesn't change much of anything. You sat alone at the bar, you took an end seat, and the only seat open next to you would cram someone up against the wall. You thought that might keep people away but unfortunately, it didn't. Fortunately, however, today was Friday, which meant you could relax and decompress from the week you just had. 

Another man tried to move into the seat next to you. You had been observing him across the bar and knew he'd try something. About 4-5 drinks in and his buddies kept pointing at you too. You looked at him and gave him a small smile. “Sorry pal, seats taken,” that's been your excuse most of the night, playing up that you're waiting for a friend or a date to stop by. 

“We've been here the whole time you have, and no one's shown up yet,” the man slurred through his words and started to get close to you. You reached for your drink and covered the top of it, not risking anything. 

“I might've gotten stood up but I'm willing to wait. Again, seats taken sir, please go back to your friends.” 

“Ah come on, I bet I can show you a better time than the chump you were meeting,” his hand started to caress the back of your arm. You frowned and looked at his hand. 

“If you don't stop touching me right now you will regret it.” Your tone was strict and your glare was firm. He took a step closer to you and his breath reeked of alcohol. 

“Oh yeah? How am I gonna regret it?”

“I suggest you leave her alone right now pal,” a very authoritarian voice echoed in your ears and you looked behind the man to see a taller man, with salt and pepper short hair and piercing blue eyes. He took your breath away but you stayed focused on the interaction. The man turned around and his whole body language changed when he had to look up to see your savior (hopefully). 

“What's it to you, buddy?" The drunk man tried to sound tough, but it didn't work out. 

“The fact that she's so uncomfortable with you around that she has to cover her drink. Leave her alone before I get the cops involved. I have ties to the SBPD.” The drunk man nodded and walked away quickly, seemingly spooked by something the man showed him. 

“Thank you for that, it's been happening all night but he's definitely been the most persistent one.”

“It's not a problem,” the man said, his blue eyes sparked when he saw you fully for the first time and he smiled at you. You smiled back and offered him the seat next to you. 

“I've been saving this for someone, at least that's what I've been telling everyone else. It's yours since you saved me.”

“Well thank you,” the man started and you signaled for him to stop for a second.

“I'll fit better over there since it's so close to the wall. Plus I think I'll be leaving soon so might as well give you the good seat,” you got up and switched and he sat down next to you. 

“Well thank you for the seat,” he smiled and waved the bartender down for a drink. You nodded and smiled and continued to sip on your drink. You spun around in your chair to face the crowd around you, watching everyone as they interacted. “Do you just come here to people-watch?” Your savior asked as he turned to watch you. 

“I'm a sense,” you laughed a little and turned more toward him. “My dad actually is a retired detective for the SBPD, and he was crazy about making sure my brother and I were super observant. Like crazy observant. My brother is definitely better at it than I am though.”

“Interesting,” the man hummed and looked out to the crowd with you. 

“I am also a licensed psychiatrist, so noticing things about people is kind of my job,” you laughed and the man chuckled next to you. 

“It's kind of my job too,” he said quietly and you turned to him, taking in his appearance. Suit pants, suit jacket, long sleeve button-up shirt. You noticed his shirt was unbuttoned a little bit, showing off some of his chest hair. You could tell he was wearing a tie all day, there was slight redness to his neck from the pressure of it. 

“You're a cop, aren't you?” You said quietly and he looked at you, kind of surprised. “No offense officer, but you're still dressed like a cop, and you have a certain tension to you that cops carry. I saw it all the time with my dad.” He looked down at himself and smirked at you. 

“I can tell you're pretty good at what you do,” he smiled and reached his hand out to you. “Carlton Lassiter, I'm the head detective with SBPD,” you took his hand and shook it. 

“Ooo a head detective, now that's impressive. I'm (Y/n) (L/n),” you took your mom's maiden name after the separation, although she remained a Spencer. Not sure why, but you two never really talked about it. A part of you knew too, that you'd come back to Santa Barbara, and you wanted to make sure to make a name for yourself without Spencer being attached to it.

“A lovely name,” you noticed Carlton swallowed hard, his eyes shifting as if gauging the situation and conversation.

“You're too kind, detective,” you winked and he smiled a little. “Listen, Carlton, I've gotta be honest with you,” you paused and his eyes changed, showing uncertainty, “I just feel like I need to tell you that I'm not a one night stand kind of gal, so I really don't wanna get your hopes up.” Carlton seemed to sign, or let out a breath he was holding.

“I'm fine with that, more than fine with that actually,” he almost said too excitedly.

“That’s a relief,” you laughed and relaxed a little with Carlton. “So, had any good cases lately?”

“I have,” he smiled and adjusted himself slightly, “We just had a case where the victim was murdered with the smallest dose of snake venom from Brazil, some crazy doctor was stealing money from the charity organization they were a part of.”

“Oh, you know what, I think my dad told me about that! Was it at that weird secret society lodge?”

“Yeah! Wait how’d your dad know?”

“He may be retired from the SBPD but that does not stop him from following cases very closely,” you laughed and Carlton nodded with a smile.

“Yeah, I’ll probably be that way too someday.”

“It’s not a bad thing by any means, at least you can still be in on the action without the risk of serious injury, which is good in old age.” 

“I suppose it is. I’m not sure if I’ll ever retire peacefully” Carlton confessed and you laughed. 

“Sounds an awful lot like my dad. There’s certainly a time and place for it, depends on what position you’re in too. Like if you were the Chief you could work for God knows how long, not a whole lot of field work with that position.”

“The field work is the best part though,” Carlton countered and you shrugged and nodded.

“I don’t disagree, but you gotta choose the lesser of the two evils. Fieldwork that can result in not-so-pleasant outcomes may get injured and have to retire early, or, the position of Chief where you can hide away from the outside evil.”

“You make a good point, I’m not sure if I can ever get Chief. Chief Vick is by far one of the most outstanding Chiefs the SBPD has had in recent years.”

“I’m glad to hear it, a good boss means good work.”

“What about you? How’s your job situation?”

“It's great. But that’s because I’m my own boss,” you added with a smile and Carlton gave you a small smile with an eyebrow raise. “I have my own office where I take clients almost every day. I’m working on getting my clientele back up to where it was back home- I just recently moved back to California from Colorado.”

“What brought you to Colorado?” Carlton inquired.

“My mom primarily. She divorced my dad when I was 13. My older brother was 17 and was being impacted the most by their failing relationship, as my mom so nicely explained to me one day. For some reason they just agreed to split us kids, so my brother stayed here with my dad and I went with my mom,” you sighed and Carlton looked at you with soft eyes. 

“I’m sorry. That doesn’t sound easy.”

“It wasn’t, but looking back on it, it was unfortunately the best option for everyone. My brother was basically an adult so my mom thought he would handle the divorce well. He blamed our dad for the divorce. It was my mom's idea though, she never told my brother that so he just assumed it was my dad.”

“Why haven’t you told your brother?”

“It's a conversation I know him and my mom need to have ya know? If I was the one to tell him, he could lash out and not believe me. I know one day he’ll express to our mom how he resents our dad for it, but that’s for the future,” you sipped your drink and took in Carlton fully. The way he carried himself was attractive. He was very confident and calm throughout your conversation with him and there was slight tension building up between the two of you. You thought back to the conversation and realized the trauma dump you just performed. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry.”

“For what?” Carlton asked, surprised at your sudden change of tone. 

“For the trauma dump, I just gave you. You didn’t deserve that.”

“I appreciate it,” Carlton said with a small smile. “It shows you’re comfortable around me already.”

“I guess you’re right. You’re easy to relax around.”

“I guess I should repay the favor?”

“Of trauma dumping?” You laughed and he smiled and shook his head. 

“Not so much of dumping as just sharing more about myself with you.”

“Only if you’re comfortable, Carlton,” you smiled. His eyes lit up and he had a big smile on his face. 

“Surprisingly…I am comfortable. There’s not too much to tell. I became Head Detective of the SBPD in 1996, I’m very good at what I do. I was married, but we’ve been separated for about two years now.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, Carlton,” you said with a small frown. You reached your arm out and gently squeezed his arm.

“There are times when it sucks more than others. Right now, however, I’m not too upset about it,” Carlton smirked at you and you felt your cheeks heat up at the blatant flirting. You giggled slightly and let go of his arm, turning back to your drink. Carlton was really having an effect on you. You couldn’t remember the last time a grown man made you giggle because he was flirting with you. Carlton watched your cheeks turn bright red and continued to stare as the redness traveled up to the tops of your ears. He was mesmerized by you. A cute, amazingly single woman who was honest and attracted to him. You were young, he could tell. It made him a little nervous, himself being 40. He was nervous because of his age but he couldn’t bring himself to tell you, in case it scared you off. It wasn’t fair to you, he realized that, but he couldn’t help it. Your phone ringing pulled Carlton out of his trance and he watched as you quickly answered the call, muttering an apology to him. 

“Hey, what’s up?” You asked quickly. Carlton attempted to distract himself with patrons around the bar so he didn’t listen in to your conversation. “Really? Oh gosh okay. Yeah of course. I’ll be on my way,” you said with panic in your voice. Carlton immediately felt disappointed when you said you would be on your way. He turned back to you, and you were looking in his eyes immediately. He stopped breathing for a second, taking in your eyes and how vibrantly your emotions showed through them. 

“Everything ok?” “I’m so sorry Carlton, I have to leave. My brother just called and said something happened to his best friend, who in turn is also like a brother to me.”

“It's not a problem, this is obviously very important.”

“Here,” you said rifling your bag and digging out a piece of paper. You scribbled down your phone number and gave it to Carlton, making sure he had a good grip on the paper. “Call me tomorrow. Or- well, whenever you’re free, call me. I know a detective's schedule can be hard to work with. I’d love to see you again,” you smiled and tipped the bartender, grabbing your belongings and standing up. You looked at Carlton and could see the sadness on his face. You hopped a little in your place before quickly pressing a kiss to Carlton’s cheek. His face flushed red and you smiled. “Please, call me,” you said and started to head for the door. 

“I will,” Carlton called out to you as you turned around and gave him a big smile, before waving and walking out the door. Carlton wasted no time in adding your number to his contacts on his phone. He was absolutely going to call you. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@capitanostella :)

[eyesontheskyline]

❄️🥤

I feel like I should say before I answer these that I am woefully behind in the world of Hotchniss fanfic. I didn't actually read any before I published my first one (under this name, after like an 8 year break) because I loved it as soon as I started it and I knew I would intimidate myself out of posting. Then I peeked right before I published and I very nearly did intimidate myself out of posting because there was a thing on the front page at the time set at the exact same point in canon by a clearly established name (as you are aware, it was you lol) and I panicked. So like, I know that's the kind of thing I do, so while I'm partway through a 16 chapter thing, I'm keeping a little out of the loop because I really don't want to scare myself away. ANYWAY here I go.

❄️ ⇢ what's your dream theme/plot for a fic, and who would write it best?

You know, I actually have no idea. . . I used to have an answer to this, then I started writing it. There are a lot of AUs that always spark my interest, speculative stuff like soul marks etc, that are easier to find a way into for Crazy Ex Girlfriend just for genre reasons, but that I would looove to see CM version of. But I'm not familiar enough with the names in the fandom yet to start nominating people to make my dreams come true lol. Also like the idea of a Hotchniss getting back together after breaking up fic. . . so many ways that could go.

🥤 ⇢ recommend an author or fanfic you love

Recently felt a lot of love for Five Times Emily Prentiss Keeps Her Hands To Herself (And One Time She Doesn't) by SloanGreyMercyDeath. (It's early seasons Jemily, which I could totally see - later seasons Jemily is not my jam.)

And Weeknight at Spencer's by moonlitesonata, a nearly-the-whole-team character study type thing from Morgan's POV that made me realise I need to stop filtering by ships because I love all of these people.

But also I made an exception to my weird self-imposed rule to intimidate myself further by reading I like shiny things but I’d marry you with paper rings, which I read on lunches at work with no signal and haven't gone back to comment on yet, but I am obsessed with every one of these adorable scenarios.

[sixofpomegranates]

I was kissed by the imagination fairy and wanted to write this. As I made the moodboard I decided that this was a story with a black female reader. I don't know, smut is smut no matter your skin color. It just came to my mind and now it's canon, so... Also, Plus-Size or not, both fit here! 👍🏻

This is set between seasons 4 & 5!

- Love, Lynn

Honey

•{One Shot Masterlist}***{Requests/Feedback}***{Guidlines}•

← Previous Part | Next Part →

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Black!Fem!Reader

Summary: Reader is going to leave the country but her best friend Spencer can't stand to lose her.

CW: Smut - 18+ | Mentions of Academic Pressure/Hard Working Parents/Unhappy with Job/Past Toxic Relationship, Penetrative Sex (Protected, Mirror, Rough), Oral (F), Fingering, Hidden Feelings, Nickname for Reader (Honey/Hun, Good Girl)

Academic achievement isn't everything.

I know, shocking. It took me long enough to figure it out myself, honestly.

All my life, I had searched for my parents' approval. Being the smartest in class, studying until I was no longer fueled by sleep but by coffee and energy drinks, crying, and putting myself down whenever I felt like I hadn't done my very best.

My family had never meant it to be like this but as the first person in my family to be accepted into an Ivy League College and before that in one of the most expensive and prestigious high schools, it wasn't like the pressure hadn't been there.

Every day I watched my parents work their butts off, putting every penny left to spare into my education fund. If I'd let them down, I'd singlehandedly ruin what they had worked for since my birth.

So I studied, and studied, and studied some more. Lived my youth in a library doing research on school papers and extracurricular work, instead of being young and enjoying life.

After college, I started working for the FBI. More detailed, I was the personal assistant to SES Erin Strauss, Section Chief of the BAU.

I had studied and worked all my life, to bring a woman who was making five times more than me her coffee, schedule her appointments, and do her dirty work. Don't get me wrong, she could be nice... when she wanted, but for all the effort I had put in, it simply wasn't as rewarding as I had expected it to be.

Trying to hold up my chipper spirit, I still tried seeing the good in everything. At least having me right next to her had swiftly earned me the nickname 'Honey' due to my soft nature next to her difficult one.

I did my work the best that I could, made sure I'd make at least one person a day smile, and tried to figure out if I had hobbies besides being the best in class.

One thing I quickly noticed, I didn't. I hadn't thought of anything other than studying and going to school all my life, so I was left with a very mild, yet lasting, existential crisis.

This crisis only increased as Erin Strauss, the kindhearted woman that she was, started having me eavesdrop on her subordinates. She hated almost everyone working in this Unit and to say that she wasn't disgruntled as I had not been able to find dirt on each one of them, would be an understatement the size of Nebraska.

But this mean task had led me to make friends... With exactly those people she had me spy on. Especially Spencer Reid.

He was sweet, considerate, and due to his intelligence, already an agent in the field although being only a few years older than I was. He was very introverted and reserved, which for some reason matched me extremely well.

I'd like to consider myself introverted, but this job had me to be an introvert in an extroverted disguise.

We would do all the things he loved together, reading, shopping for books, playing chess – which he had to teach me first – and watching foreign movies and old TV shows while eating Chinese food.

With forks, since he couldn't wrap his head around how to use chopsticks.

Next to him and the rest of the people of the BAU, I was able to develop some real interests and enjoy my early twenties.

While I worked out with Morgan, shopped for baby clothes with JJ, dined with Aaron and Rossi, and read books with Reid, Emily would go out with me and Penelope and we'd get drunk, living through the funniest of situations.

For instance, one time, Penelope had been sat into an empty shopping cart by Emily and she began pushing it down the road, causing her to actually get caught by a speed camera.

In one of those funny coincidences you never believe to exist outside of books and movies, I had then met a young man, I fell for head over heels. It caused some issues between me and Spencer I couldn't understand and refused to believe him when he told me that Daniel was bad news.

For months Spencer and I didn't talk. He refused to, while I was in a relationship with Daniel. Not even during the case of The Reaper. The women of the BAU, my friends, tried to explain it as Reid being jealous, being in love with me.

And they were right, I knew that this was what it was, but as much as I noticed me feeling the same for him, I was still in the midst of finding out who I was and wanted to be.

It wasn't the right time for us. And frankly, I didn't know if there would ever be a right time for us. Especially with my heart starting to get called far away from America.

Still, he was there in a heartbeat when I broke up with Daniel and I had called the boy genius crying. We had made up the same evening, of course, under the disguise of him simply not having liked Daniel.

This very first, very serious relationship had ended in toxic flames as Daniel – who really wanted to become an artist – had realized that I was better at his craft than him. Yet, it had left me with a love for drawing, especially digital art became a quickly perfected love of mine.

And the more I fell in love with it and noticed how happy it made me, the more I realized that the FBI didn't.

And therefore, for the first time in my life, I chose that I was no longer seeking success but rather would go out into the world and seek happiness.

My parents weren't happy, couldn't understand why I had started an online business selling my digital art as posters, stickers, buttons, and even more merchandise. Less they could understand when I decided to 'throw away' this secure job at the FBI and instead chose to leave America in my pursuit of happiness.

Thankfully, my friends understood it. Emily even more so than the others. She had lived in so many parts of the world, that she offered me to help me find work through her connections.

"Pick a place and we'll get you a job," she had said. And she had kept her word.

I had chosen England and she had set me up with a nice, decently paid office job for Interpol. And once more, I had lost Spencer. He hadn't thought I would make my decision so quickly after my breakup and since he handled change very badly, I had broken his heart with this.

It was what it was. Things changed, that was how the world worked. And if I had to lose Spencer to find myself, it was a sacrifice I was willing to make. No matter how much it hurt.

When my days at the BAU now came to an end and I officially was done transitioning my entire life onto another continent, the team – minus Spencer – surprised me with a beautiful 'Goodbye' party that had me in tears and promise that we'd always stay in touch, even if the Atlantic Ocean was separating us.

After dinner and drinks, we said our goodbyes, Penelope staining my top with her makeup fueled tears, and I hailed a cap.

I no longer had an apartment in DC, and since I was leaving tomorrow, I lived in a hotel next to the airport. All I owned in the States was currently a suitcase filled with three books – one for each reading mood I could have – and a bunch of different clothes I tried their styles of out. The ruffles, sweaters, and cottage core definitely started to become my favorite.

Just as I was about to go to bed, it knocked on my hotel room door. Opening it without thinking twice, my eyes met the gaze of Spencer, standing there with a plastic bag.

"Spence," I whispered surprised, him scratching the back of his head.

"You- You should always check who's at the door first. You didn't know who was coming to see you-" Stopping himself, he scowled. "I'm sorry. Were you expecting someone?" His voice had held the same tone it had when talking about Daniel for a second.

Shaking my head, I giggled, "Nope. Just living dangerously." He glanced at me with a raised eyebrow, not as amused by my joke as I was.

"Can I come in?" He asked, making me quickly step aside and then close the door behind him. "You're leaving tomorrow," he said, not facing me but looking around the room.

"Yeah," I mumbled, sitting down on my bed. "What are you doing here?" I asked boldly since he hadn't even made an appearance at my party.

"I don't want you to leave," he said, after swallowing hard.

A frown appeared on my face. "A little too late for that. But it's not a goodbye forever-"

Interrupting me, Spencer exclaimed loudly, "Of course it is. I have experienced this often enough. Gideon, Elle, my father. They all said 'We'll keep in touch' and then I never heard from them again. I lost them and now I'll lose you just because you decided to move to Britain."

"Because I am unhappy here, Spencer," I told him, noting the tears in his eyes. "And I know you've been left before but this is not the same."

With a sarcastic smile on his face, he whispered, "Awfully feels like it though."

"But it isn't," I cried out, unable to keep my own emotions on track.

He was the person I was the closest to, the one that had influenced me and my personality the most, and he hadn't talked to me in weeks, and that only shortly after ignoring me for months.

"I am miserable, Spencer, and it kills me living a life that is only to fulfill the expectations of my parents. If I don't change my life now, I will get stuck here and stay like this until I pull a Virginia Woolf, just that my pocket will not only hold stones but also all my hopes and dreams."

Wiping tears from my face, I began looking onto the floor. I had been ready for this new chapter of my life, had been so excited. But now that I saw Spencer and got reminded that I had to leave him and my uncertain, romantic feelings for him on this continent, I started to feel homesick before even entering the airport.

"Honey, I just ..." He started, taking a deep breath. "I don't like imagining a life without you."

"I don't like it either," I said, smiling bitterly. "But it's not like I am completely gone, I swear. I'll just move from being a main character to being a side character with special appearances. But I really need to know that you won't just ignore me again when I get into that plane tomorrow."

Spencer cackled, blinking away some of the tears in his eyes. "After all the drama I made because I don't wanna lose you, you should rather be careful that I don't try climbing into your suitcase and leave with you."

We both smiled at each other, and after it started to feel like we were right back where we had left our friendship weeks ago, I pointed at the bag he was holding. "What's that?" I asked, making him sit next to me on the bed and handing it to me.

"Just some souvenir so you won't forget home," he said.

Reaching into the bag, I pulled out a pink teddy bear having 'I <3 DC' embroidered on it.

"Spence," I whispered, feeling tears running down my cheeks while I hugged the bear. "God, that's cute."

Smiling his arms went up to gesture while he explained, "I plan on sending you a souvenir every year until you come back."

Shaking my head, laughing, I looked between him and my bear. "I'm gonna call him 'Travel-Size Spence'," I snickered.

"The teddy is pink!" Spencer exclaimed, making me nod. "I know. It's not like colors have genders."

We both started laughing while I flung the plastic bag onto the floor and the teddy on my bed. "We should become pen-pals," I announced grinning, and he rose his eyebrows.

"Wouldn't be using the phone be faster? You're already going to be 3674 miles away from me."

"You don't like using your phone," I remembered him, feeling butterflies in my stomach by the thought that he'd said 'away from me' as if I belonged to him. "Also is nobody writing letters anymore. So it would be something really special every time we hear from each other."

He nodded. "I like that idea. You're right, it would be something special just for us."

Sitting back further onto my bed, I just wanted to ask Spencer if he'd be up for some 'goodbye' pizza, but his deep sigh interrupted my plan.

"I should've talked to you sooner. Now those are our last moments together," he said clearly annoyed at himself.

I smiled, poking his melodramatic shoulder, "What would you've wanted them to be instead? Technically, everything we do before you leave is our last moment together."

Turning to me and looking me up and down, I watched him licking his lips nervously. It wasn't like he was checking me out, no, not Spencer. Especially not since I sat there without makeup, in my leggings and baggy, washed-out shirt with Batman print on it.

As our eyes met, it felt like everything started to move in slow motion while at the same time moving in lightspeed. Cupping my cheeks, he practically threw himself at me, his lips crashing onto mine.

The kiss was as wanton as it was gentle, a combination I had never expected to even exist.

Spencer's lips, however, felt just like I had caught myself imagining them in lonely nights, that had left me longing for somebody, but only let me imagine him.

Losing our breaths, his hands started leaving my cheeks, wandering down my sides, and grabbed my thighs. Pulling on them with more swift elegance than I'd imagined him to possess, he had me lay on my back while moving over me.

As we finally parted to let some oxygen into our lungs, he backed away, his face looking as red as mine felt hot.

"Sorry," he whispered, brushing his hair behind his ear. "I- I shouldn't have done that."

Jumping up from bed and straightening his clothes, he couldn't hide the bulge between his legs. Solely a men-problem I hadn't to fear since he couldn't see how wet this view made me.

As I just continued to stare, he looked at me like a deer caught in the headlights of a car. Then he walked to the door.

As his hand rose to the handle, I asked, "Are you leaving?" He nodded. "It's not like I could stay after this."

I wasn't sure what I was thinking about this, but if he left now, we would never talk to each other again. We'd be too embarrassed to do so. This kiss had been filled with suppressed lust and we both had felt it.

Maybe we could afford one last mistake before I left and things would become completely different altogether.

"Why not?" I asked blatantly, him turning to me mortified. "Because you're my best friend, hun." I nodded. "So?"

"I don't wanna ruin our friendship," he said, making me lick my lips which still held his taste.

"It's not ruining it, if we don't read anything into it," I mumbled sheepishly, fully aware of how horny I must've sounded, suggesting my best friend to stay and fuck my brains out before I left the country tomorrow.

"What should we read into this, then?" Spencer asked, letting go of the door and stepping closer to the bed again. He clearly was as interested in this stupid idea as I was, else he would've already left.

"Nothing. We're just two friends having a last 'conversation' before I leave," he let a hand run through his light brown hair, looking at me like he wasn't sure if I was just playing with him.

"And you want this... conversation?" He finally asked, Adam's apple bobbing in his throat.

I nodded, thinking any of my emotions holding onto the 'what ifs' of this would leave after it. "Really badly. And you?" "Even more," he said, voice having become deeper. "So, just tonight and it won't change a thing?"

"It's just a conversation," I whispered as he stepped closer to the bed, stalking me with his hazel eyes so dark I couldn't make out their color anymore. "Nothing more, nothing less."

Crawling back onto the bed, he kicked off his shoes. The closer he came, the more I backed back onto the bed. When my head ungracefully hit the headboard, I stopped.

Spencer climbed between my legs, a dark grin on his face. "You're so beautiful, always were. It was the first thing I noticed about you," he whispered, hands gliding up my sides.

My hand rose to his pale cheek, showing me the contrast between us. I pressed my lips on his again, my hands first moving up into his hair then down to his tie.

While I was busy popping the buttons of his dress shirt, his hands began to roughly grope my breasts. We gasped into each other's mouths, both noting how much we loved touching the other in such an un-friendlike manner.

Spencer started rhythmically rocking himself against me. His hard cock pressed directly against my clit, and the clothes between us caused a wonderful friction merely his cock inside me could surpass.

As I grew impatient with the shirt and simply ripped it open, sending the last three buttons flying. Breaking our kiss, I let myself fall back into the pillows, a moan coming from my lips.

"Fuck..." Spencer growled, grinding himself harder against me. "That sounded hot."

With a quick peck on my lips, he set back on his heels. As he looked down on me, for the first time he wasn't the sweet guy I loved to spend my time with but definitely the hottest man I had ever seen, and couldn't wait to feel inside me.

Spencer grabbed the band of my leggings and with one strong pull, pulled them including my panties down. After throwing the tangled in itself piece of clothing across the room, he spread my legs, shamelessly looking at my wet cunt.

"Are you still okay with this?" He asked with this rasp in his voice that made me nod frantically.

"So okay," I answered. "You?" He smiled. "Even more than before."

His hands slight down my inner thighs, making me shiver. Spreading them further for him, he gave me the dirtiest grin I had ever seen.

"So, so beautiful. And tonight, you're mine."

I whimpered. Honest to God, whimpered. It was this slight amount of unusual dominance, the cold air against my wet core, and how his head slowly started moving down towards it.

The last inches, his movements seemed painfully slow. As impatient as I was, I grabbed his hair, trying to make him go down on me sooner.

Thankfully he obliged, grinning before running his tongue flat over my clit. At my groan, he chuckled before beginning to suck on my clit. His tongue ever so often licking through my folds tasting my wetness.

"Good. Fuck, Spencer. So good," he had me begging in no time, having me evaluate my former belief that he was pretty inexperienced.

My head was too often thrown back into the pillows to notice it but when I felt his fingers at my entrance, I looked down at him.

Our eyes met and he lifted his mouth off my clit. As he carefully insert a finger in me, he waited for my high-pitched moan before his mouth went back to work on me.

Pumping his finger in and out of me with a gentle speed, his eyes were still focused on me, his mouth growling against my flesh whenever I moaned.

Through my bliss, I somehow noted how he moved his hips against the mattress to relieve himself of some of the pressure he was feeling. Especially after adding another finger into me.

Knowing that he was just as turned on as I was, did unspeakable things to me. I needed Spencer, I needed more than just his mouth and fingers.

"Spence, please," I moaned, nails digging into his skull. "Please, I need more."

Propping himself up on his elbows, he looked at me with his big puppy eyes. "I just want to make you feel good, [y/n]."

My heart skipped a beat, leaving me breathless. I lifted myself, making Spencer back away and sit back on his heels.

Jumping on my knees, I threw my arms around his neck, kissing him passionately. He moaned surprised, I almost had knocked him off the bed in my eager state.

"Careful, Honey," he chuckled into the kiss, while I pushed his dress shirt off his shoulders and at the same time onto the floor.

"Need you. Now," I mumbled, unable to leave my lips from his.

Gently pushing me away and pulling my shirt over my head, he whispered, "I'd give you everything."

I grabbed his belt, opening his pants, while my lips wandered down his neck, sucking hickeys into his creamy white skin that would stay with him even when I was long gone.

Happy with my work, I pecked his lips again and he got off the bed, taking off his pants and socks. Pulling him back onto me by the waistband of his boxers, our lips met again.

By now they were red, swollen, and sore but we still couldn't help ourselves to not be indulging in the aphrodisiac that was our kisses.

When we, once more, had to part to breathe, he looked at me with a frown. "I don't have condoms with me," he mumbled, the word 'condoms' actually making him blush.

God, this man was an enigma.

He let me get up and watched me dig around in my suitcase. When I finally found one, I lifted it with a victorious smile. I was gonna get something tonight.

Spencer chuckled, while I jumped back onto the bed enthusiastically, hands instantly all over him. Enough waiting, I wanted him right now.

Taking the condom from me, he looked over to the mirror wall across from the right side of the bed. Following his gaze, I immediately knew what he was thinking. I laid onto my stomach, facing the mirror and watching us both through it.

Spencer's eyes went from surprised to hungry, he quickly got up, taking off his boxers and flashing me with his - impressive - length.

Okay, my best friend was packing. Holy shit.

"Close your mouth, you're gonna catch flies," he snickered, pulling the condom over his erection.

"S-Sorry. I just... Fuck me," I stuttered surprised, making him laugh as he climbed behind me, holding my gaze through the mirror.

"I'm working on it," he said cockily, lifting my hips while my upper body still laid flush on the mattress.

I gasped excitedly as he began moving his tip up and down my wet slit, coating himself with my natural lubricant.

As he came to a hold, cock at the entrance of my cunt, he searched for my eyes. "Ready?" He asked, making me nod.

"Yes." My answer had been merely a whisper, the moan following as he entered me with one solid thrust wasn't.

My eyes rolled back and my head fell into the sheets. God, he was big, stretching and filling me more than I could be ever hoped for.

"Fuck, you're tight," he breathed behind me, leaving me to almost inaudible giggle as I looked back at him. Sure, I was the one outperforming probabilities.

"You feel so good," I moaned already intoxicated by the sex we were going to have, rocking back against him. "Yeah?" He asked me, thrusting his hips forward with this cocky grin.

My answer stayed a nodding and desperate whimpers. Spencer began pounding into me, slow but so rough, I literally wanted to use the phrase 'rearranging my guts' to describe it.

Though, he smiled down at me sweetly while doing so, seeming to get drunk on the fact that he made me feel good.

My brain was quickly brought into overload. I was getting fucked by Spencer, my best friend, while he obtained both his sweetness and a rough dominance over my body. I came quicker than I had been ready to, it felt like getting hit by a bus while he fucked me through my orgasm.

I had been used to helping out the guy I was with until now, rubbing my clit, hoping to come. Most of the time Daniel had come quickly when I did and that was it. But Spencer only seemed to get started, having seen my first orgasm as warming up.

He smiled at me, pressing a kiss on my cheek, and then pointed forward towards the mirror with a wink. Propping myself on my elbows, I watched him mercilessly starting to thrust into me, every now and then taking in the view of him fucking me in the mirror.

This guy inside me and my cute, shy colleague couldn't be the same person. Hell, he had blushed when asking for a condom, and now was smacking my ass and clawing into my skin with his nails, all while watching my face through the mirror as he fucked me stupid.

"Sp-Spencer," I whimpered with a grin, making him lean over me and force me to look at him. "Does that feel good?" He asked me softly, moaning into my ear. I nodded, cries leaving my mouth instead of words.

"You're so perfect," he chuckled, and I could feel my legs start to brutally tremble and another orgasm rip through me.

I never came more than once.

"Really not?" Spencer asked, and I realized I had thought out loud. I shook my head, still pulsing around him like crazy.

"That guy really was a loser," he mumbled with possessive pride, making me look into the mirror again. His face next to mine, he glowed. Right now, he was pure sex, no shyness, only desire.

Two orgasms from a man who continued to fuck you really left you feeling sore. I had not known that until now. But this soreness was delicious. Yes, I was overstimulated, and every thrust felt like he was carving his initial deep inside my womb but it also made me feel so special and loved for.

By now he cradled my face like I was a little bird. Delicate. Like I would turn to dust should he touch me too roughly. He moaned my name like a prayer, hips beginning to roll and reach depths inside me nobody else ever had or probably ever would.

Our reflection showed wanton passion but also an uncanny affection. An affection that made me getting pounded by Spencer from behind almost look romantic, almost like we were making love instead of fucking our brains out.

The thought made me smile, looking to my side and meeting Spencer's lips. This was a great mistake to end my time in America with. This was a mistake I would carry with me across the Atlantic Ocean and think of whenever I was going to talk to another man ever again.

I felt Spencer's hand sneak under me, between my legs, and slowly starting to rub my clit. While his thrusts became irregular, it still seemed like he put my enjoyment first.

I focused on the picture of love in the mirror. We were both a mess, tears streaming down my face, love-drunk smiles plastered across both our faces.

I wanted to come again, do as Spencer had planned to, so I began rocking back against him. I was so close, a breeze of air would've probably made me come.

But lastly, it was Spencer's last moaned words before coming that made me fall into the depths of bliss for the third time. "Fuck, [y/n], that's it. I- Good girl."

I came crying out his name, while he did the same with mine on his lips. My face collapsed onto the sheets, Spencer on top of me. I still gasped every time I felt myself pulsing around him, while he would instinctively thrust deeper into me.

A few seconds passed, and pressing a kiss on my sweaty temple. He pulled out of me, leaving for the bathroom.

I took this time to roll on my back, still feeling his touches and tight grip on me. Hopefully, he had left bruises. Even if not dark enough to show, I would still be able to feel them, remembering this night when I was falling asleep on the other end of the ocean dividing us.

I needed to take a shower before my flight tomorrow morning but for now, all I wanted to do was to take a nap. Closing my eyes, I heard the shower turn on and Spencer come out of the bathroom.

"I turned on the shower so the water would turn warm," he told me softly, as I felt the mattress sink in next to me. "If we shower now, you don't have to stress yourself tomorrow."

I chuckled, opening my eyes. "Hey there," I mumbled, noticing that he was blushing again. "Everything okay?"

He nodded, trying to keep his eyes from wandering to my boobs. "Y-Yeah. Are you okay?"

"Uh-huh," I answered, yawning. "Do we like... shower together or...?"

Looking at me like he had asked himself the same, he shrugged, "Technically, did the things to be nervous or flustered about already happen. But if you want your privacy..."

I shook my head. "Give me two minutes ahead to freshen up, kay?"

Getting up, Spencer had been a gentleman and looked away. I was quick to do the necessary to avoid a UTI and got under the shower, hair stuffed into one of those cheap hotel shower caps that I hoped would actually be waterproof.

As Spencer knocked, I told him to come in, and although the silence was first filled with embarrassment, it quickly resolved by him making fun of me and my shower cap.

"Bitch," I muttered, throwing the little shampoo bottle at him since I was an idiot and had sent all my products to London without me.

He chuckled, soaping his body in the overly perfumed shampoo. "I'm just teasing you, Honey. You look cute with that cap. Almost like you wrapped your head into cling wrap."

I rolled my eyes, stepped into the warm shower water, and washed the bubbles off my body. A cold shiver ran down my spine, followed by goosebumps as I felt Spencer kiss my shoulder.

"I'm going to miss you," he whispered, forehead resting against my skin. "Especially now."

I smiled, knowing exactly what he meant. This had not resolved the long felt feelings towards Spencer. No, it had made them worse. Real.

"See it from the good side, I'm going to write you on Hello Kitty stationary. That means every week you'll have a pink envelope waiting for you from your best friend," I giggled.

I could not show him that I felt like staying with him now. Sex and feelings for my best friend weren't enough to keep me here. I needed to find my place in the world and that without it relying on being with a man.

Biting his bottom lip, Spencer chuckled. "I don't know if I should be excited about that or dreading."

I nudged his side at that, nudged him even harder as he tried to steal my shower cap off my head. There were giggles and our typical behavior. Spencer seemed to be on the same page with me.

We were best friends. Nothing more, nothing less. Even if we wanted something else.

The next morning, he helped me carry my suitcase to the airport, I checked in and we said our tearful goodbyes.

In the letter, I received from him a week later, he wrote that he had waited until the plane was in the air, staring out of the window and watching it take off. Actually, he admitted, he had still stood there long after I was gone.

He also asked me to send him a little teddy bear from London, so he too would have the little teddy version of his best friend sitting at home on his bed.

At the very bottom was a quote of French novelist & poet Victor Hugo, saying, "Life is the flower for which love is the Honey."

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