#Spencer Reid gif

[reidgif]

spencer reid + sleeping

[reidingandallthat]

the third one- goodness gracious

raw. next question

[endearng]

Out of reach

Pairing: earlyseasons!Spencer Reid x hotchner!fem!reader Summary: You pull away from Spencer because of your jealousy. You go back to him after a few drinks in. WC: 9k A/N: fluff! pining! idiots/friends to lovers! alcohol consumption; spencer is a bit mean; reader doesn't communicate; hotch is a little older to have a daughter around spencer's age (do not come at me this is fiction). If I missed anything, please let me know! I had so much fun writing this one and it's now one of my favorites <3 masterlist

The jet was quiet as you and the BAU team made your way back from Los Angeles after successfully finding Lila Archer's stalker. The case had been a bit draining, after all, you've only been working with the FBI for a couple of months, and seeing dead bodies and all those other displays of violence was something you were still trying to get used to. Despite your sensitive nature, being Aaron Hotchner's daughter meant that you had mastered the art of a poker face through the years, not that it meant that your inner feelings were any less important. This is how you found yourself sitting all alone in a corner of the jet as everyone minded their own business. On any other day, you'd be sitting next to Dr. Spencer Reid, talking about whatever it was that could get your mind off the case you had just wrapped up. Spencer and you were friends, some would even say the best of friends, but you didn't mind about naming things — what mattered the most is that you got to be yourself around him and you didn't bother hiding behind the Hotchner glare, as he once put it.

Despite being unknown territory for you, after all, feelings and all that were protected by a deeply analytic and practical mind, you knew what you were feeling. Well, you were analyzing your reactions to check what had actually happened — and the thing is, you couldn't admit, not even to yourself, what that sinking feeling in your chest when you watched Spencer saying goodbye to Lila was. Amid your analysis, Spencer quietly approached you, silently motioning to the seat next to you. You nodded, shutting every single thought of him. Or at least, trying.

"Hi."

Hotch glare. "Hi, Reid."

Spencer felt nervous. He had never been on the receiving end of your… wrath before, so it was unknown territory and he didn't know how to act. His racing heart and clammy palms weren't helping him, either. Taking a deep breath, he said, "Listen, um, you... can... can we talk?" The stammering. Way to go, Spencer.

Glancing at him, ignoring the skip in your heartbeat, you nodded. "Yeah. Is everything alright?" A firm, secure tone. You mentally patted yourself on the back.

"You're a little distant... and—and I got a bit worried. Did... Did something happen?" He wanted to kick himself. What kind of person can't hold a serious conversation without stuttering like an idiot? Get a grip, Reid.

"No, Reid. Everything is alright. I'm just... thinking." You said.

Bullshit. You both knew that. Spencer, on the other hand, didn't know why it was bullshit. But he knew it was.

"Are you sure?" He asked, leaning towards you, almost invading your personal space and he shut his eyes before delivering the next question, "Is... I haven't done anything to upset you? Right?"

You took a second to answer him, willing your voice to stay still and the knot in your throat to go away. "No. It's nothing you've done. It's just... it's on me." You gave him a small smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes — that's when he knew something was definitely wrong.

He nodded, but he was still worried by your sudden change of behavior, especially towards him. It was like he was anyone else, again. And, God, he didn't want that. "What is it, then? You can talk to me, you know. We're best friends."

Best friends.

The words felt bitter on his tongue. The sound of them broke your heart all over again.

Best friends. "Right. Yeah. I know." You said, quietly, and it felt a little lifeless to him. He clenched his hand, fighting the urge to touch you, to ask you what was truly bothering you. "Thanks for offering."

Spencer felt conflicted. If he didn't say anything and didn't push you to speak, you would probably bury whatever it was that you were feeling and it would lead him into being even more worried about you. If he did, you would probably snap at him because of his undesired, bothersome insistence. "It's nothing." He said, defeatedly. "Can you just... Do you promise it's not me?"

Your heart ached and you smiled at him, a tiny, faint, barely there smile. He was so adorable, sometimes. "I'm just upset over something else. Don’t worry. You didn't do anything wrong." You finished, trying to convince yourself that he had not, indeed, done something wrong.

And he didn't. He didn't. You and Spencer, despite your proximity and sometimes incredibly ambiguous relationship, hadn't said anything about deeper feelings towards one another. You let yourself admire him, lovingly, from afar, and were happy with the snippets of attention you had from him when you two had some free time. You two were regulars in the coffee shop near his apartment and, by now, the local librarian, Mrs. Jones, could probably fake your signature from how often you two went there to borrow books. She would watch you two behind the bookshelves, whispering excitedly and curiously to each other about whatever suggestions you were getting from each other. As you missed Spencer's longing glances to read a summary, Mrs. Jones smiled to herself, both at how adorable you two were and how oblivious you were. In museums, you would sit down after some time walking around to his explanations of art and historical movements that impacted the expression of a certain age — you pretended to not know a few things, just so he could speak his heart away and not be interrupted by your own contributions.

You kept silent to make him happy.

Which was exactly what was happening now.

Spencer knew, for sure, that you were hiding something from him. But he also knew that he had no right to force it out. He fidgeted awkwardly, not knowing what to do with his hands, his heart still clenching. “But, but... you’d come to me if you needed help, right?”

You nodded, unable to speak. You knew you were wrong, omitting things from him. Just as the guilt was starting to weigh in your heart, Derek passed by you two with a magazine in his hands, throwing it at Spencer, exclaiming, "My man!"

You looked down, already knowing what it was. Spencer was a mess beside you: blushing, stuttering, avoiding your and Derek's gaze and throwing the magazine as far as he could, like it had burned him. Your reaction was a subtle twitch of your lips, not in amusement, but in need to disguise the pang in your heart. You both spent the rest of the flight sitting in silence, simply being in each other's orbit. You, guiltily. Spencer, worriedly.

Your reaction — or lack of — was staggering to Spencer. He thought you two were getting somewhere, despite your closed off nature and demeanor, he thought he was finally cracking you up. Everyday was torture, seeing you walk through the bullpen's glass doors with your professional clothes and your composed figure. It was torture to see you walk around so prettily and serious, holding his bare heart in your hands, and not even realizing it. By now, he lived and thrived on those rare opportunities you had to spend time together as he became more and more covered in you.

As the jet landed and Spencer walked out to talk to Derek, you pettily made sure to step on Lila Archer's face when leaving the jet in sheer frustration.

Back to the bullpen, you had gone to the restroom to splash some water on your face in order to calm your nerves and to tell yourself that it was only a matter of time until things got back to normal — until you got back to normal. Glancing at your reflection in the mirror, you wondered if Spencer could tell that there was something wrong with you, if you had let any of your feelings slip during your short conversation. The version of you that stared back was as impassible as you ever were. As you made your way to your desk in the dimly lit sea of desks, you caught Spencer and Derek talking, both having their backs to you.

Sighing, you just left the headquarters, not wanting to know what they were discussing, or rather, knowing what they were discussing, but unwilling to stay, even if it would quench your curiosity as to what Spencer had been thinking.

Maybe you didn't want to know the answer.

—

The days went by, cases coming left and right, flights making you almost dizzy — not that you would admit, but you were terrified of heights. Between those and your training, you barely had time to think about Spencer and the entire Lila occasion. You spent your days busy with work, studies and physical training in order to keep your mind away from that, but as you lay awake at night, the memories would come back to haunt you relentlessly to the point you had recurring dreams of them. Together, as you watched from the sidelines. You kept to yourself, slipping further and further away from Spencer.

Reid, on the other hand, felt your absence more than anyone. You took a rain check on all the invitations he made, even when he invited you to movie night, when he would definitely choose a Russian movie because you mentioned once how you liked how the language sounds. There wasn't any more donuts on his desk as he arrived in the morning (he would always joke that you and your father secretly lived in the headquarters and that someday he would see Haley bringing your groceries to the secret house), and there was no one for him to throw his paper airplanes, small flashcards with the Russian phonological alphabet, at. The change in your behavior was absurdly clear to everyone: you barely called or texted him anymore, you didn't look his way when someone told a joke to check if he thought it was funny... He was sulking, to say the least. Upon questioning you, you blamed your lack of free time and as he was going to question you further, you said in a teasing tone that not everyone was like him and that the FBI was actually making you go through all the training phases.

Finally, during the end of a particularly frustrating workday, he finally snapped, grabbing your arm before you could enter the elevator. It was only you and him in the otherwise empty hallway. "Ok. What's been going on? And don't," he said, closing his eyes, "don't dance around the subject. Don't say it's the Academy. Don't say you have to work. Don't. Please, be honest with me."

The exasperation in his eyes and in his tone almost broke the wall that hid your true feelings, but as you glanced at him, you figured you couldn't do it. Be honest? What for? To hear that you're nothing more than his best friend? Losing said friend was not an option, not to you, at least. But you also knew that you weren't treating him right, that keeping him out was not at all fair to him, that leaving him in the dark was as hurtful as it would be to lose him.

Breathing deeply, you answered with the same stoic expression you wore every single damn day. "I told you, Reid. People go through different, busier times in their lives." The lie tasted like acid.

Spencer clenched his teeth, frustration and confusion beginning to override some of his social anxieties. “That! That!” He asked through clenched teeth, his gaze intense.

"That what?" You asked, puzzled.

"You... you stopped calling me 'Spence'—not that you did it often, you did it more when we were all alone, and it... it sucks! It sucks because I don't know what happened or what I did that was so wrong to make you stop liking me!"

Come on, just say something! Get angry, get sad, get something!, his mind screamed.

"I never stopped liking you," you said, looking away from him. His words hit a particular spot that you were totally willing to discover later, but the mere thought that he knew that you liked him more than as a friend made you shiver.

"That's not the point! Or—or rather, it is! Because if you didn't stop liking me, why would you act like you did?" He asked, his tone rising a bit.

"Calm down."

"Calm down? I will not calm down!" He almost yelled. His eyes widened slightly, disbelief clear in his features and tone, not to mention the frustration. "Just. Please.” He said, closing his eyes, willing himself to tone it down, not that it worked... “Tell me what you're thinking, what happened to you! For once! Any normal person would react and stop acting like an emotionless robot!"

You gaped like a fish out of water, taking a small step back, his words digging a hole in your heart. Upon hearing his own words and noticing you distancing yourself from him, all the anger vanished from his body. The widened eyes were a sign of realization of what he had said to you. During the early months of friendship, you had confided in him that you struggled with portraying emotion like others normally did. Maybe it had something to do with growing up with a father who did it so perfectly when he was out of the house. When he wasn't actively playing the ‘dad’ part, Aaron Hotchner would wear an unreadable mask like it was his armor, his defense from the outer world, but as soon as he got home, he was back to his main role. You would watch him with his coworkers and mimic him perfectly to make him laugh. At some point, making fun of and imitating his demeanor had become some serious form of self-defense for you. Spencer, then, joked that you were making your way to the perfect job, but then he had gotten serious and told you that it wasn't a flaw. That it wasn't a problem that you kept deeply to yourself sometimes — that it was okay to be yourself around him. You had felt safe by his side since then.

But now, what did those words mean? Were they lies?

He breathed out your name, softly, "I... I... I'm sorry."

"Just drop it," you replied, pushing the elevator button. Your dismissive tone and your action of leaving made Spencer feel utterly desolate, like he had done the wrongest thing in the world and perhaps he had, but he just wanted you to let him in. For once, he wanted to have the answers from your lips, not spend any more time analyzing your every single action and words...

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to..."

"You know, Spencer…" he looked up at you when he heard his name, as you held out an arm to hold the elevator doors open. As if thinking better than to say anything, you sighed and turned to enter the elevator, shaking your head with the most disappointed look he had ever seen on your face.

Spencer tried looking at you one last time before the elevator doors closed, and despite your face being as unreadable as it often was, he saw a flicker of sadness that stung his heart more than he liked to admit. If he hadn't done anything wrong before, now he had utterly fucked everything up.

—

The drive home, for Spencer, was a torture. He knew that he had to pay attention to the road ahead of him, to the other vehicles and drivers, but his mind kept drifting to the last glimpse of you back in the headquarters. Your empty eyes appeared behind his eyelids every time he pressed his eyes closed. He willed himself not to cry, to not blur his vision, taking his frustration out on the steering wheel, where his grip was so tight that his knuckles turned white. As he parked his car and looked up to one of his windows, he remembered you. Because of course he would remember you.

The sight was almost comical, to be honest. You, clad in one of the suits that fitted you so well, sitting on his windowsill, a cup of green tea in hands as you stared out the window, trying to analyze every single drop of rain before it reached somewhere outside your vision range. The funny thing was that you had no shoes on, instead, Spencer lent you a mismatched pair, not being one used to having people over, he didn't have a pair of spare slippers. Then, you sat there with a dinosaur-pattern sock on one foot and a striped-pattern sock on the other.

Spencer, sitting on his sofa and holding his own cup (he had let you choose your mug and stayed quiet when you pointed quietly at his favorite), smiled to himself. It was weirdly calming seeing you out of your character, doing something so... human.

"I can feel you staring, you know," you said. And your tone was almost... teasing?

"Right. Sorry." He said, looking down at his steaming tea.

"I'm not scolding you," you said, turning to look at his direction with a grin.

"Right, no—heh..." he replied, bashfully, cheeks reddening at the sight of your smile.

If only you knew... how many hours he would lay awake at night, as thoughts swirled in his head, how everything seemed to shut down at the thought of you. How he would fall asleep to the wish of being on the receiving end of one of your rare smiles, how he appreciated that you were always the first one he talked to upon his arrival at the headquarters. How... how he would do anything for you to look at him under a different light.

Seemingly out of nowhere, you giggled. Everything stopped.

Spencer.exe has stopped working.

"Heheh—I guess... It's not everyday you get to see a Hotchner so out of its—heheh—habitat." You quipped, looking at him with a smile on your face.

Suddenly, Spencer lost his voice. The connection between his brain and his tongue, which felt heavy, disappeared. Completely speechless, eyes slightly wide at the sound of your laughter. It made you laugh a bit more, but when his stare and open mouth got too much to handle, you looked down at your feet, wiggling your toes to distract yourself from the intensity of his gaze full of awe. Then, Spencer got back to his senses, smiling at you as you missed it to look away in embarrassment.

Spencer blinked away the tears and left his car, entering his apartment. As he took off his shoes, he let the tears fall at the sight of your windowsill.

—

Meanwhile, you were getting wasted at some bar. Not just any bar, but the one you usually went with Spencer when you were feeling daring and wanted a change from the places where you both used to go to. You were a bit of a lightweight, so a couple of drinks were enough for you to start playing trivia with Spencer and let your gaze linger for longer, basking in the sight of him so carefree, having fun with you.

Upon your arrival, the bartender that usually took care of your orders, MJ, greeted you with a smile. When she saw no one was joining you, she frowned. "Good evening, Hotch. Where's loverboy?"

You sent her a look, but since you were letting your guard down, after all, there were no acquaintances or friends around, you didn't know if the look came out as a glare or if you looked like a kicked puppy. She snorted. "Gee... That bad, huh?" She asked, and you didn't answer again, though you muttered a soft thanks, MJ when she gave you your go-to drink.

And it turned into two drinks. Three. Four...

(MJ was now giving you alcohol-free drinks, too worried for your well-being. You and Spencer started to grow on her as you two kept coming back.)

You rested your chin on your left hand while you traced patterns with your right index finger on the counter. MJ was eyeing you suspiciously, drying a few glasses with a washcloth. "He kissed another girl." You admitted, quietly.

"No way." She gasped.

"Way."

"But... I thought you two were a thing." MJ was baffled, placing down the objects she was holding in sheer shock. "I always thought you two were like... together for years."

"We were a thing.... I think, at least... I don't know, MJ." You sighed, tucking a stray of hair behind your ear. Looking up at her, hazy eyes taking in her focused expression, you sniffled, "we were on this case and then he met a girl and then the next moment the two of them were making out in a pool. In a freaking pool."

She tsked, anger flashing in her eyes, "I swear, those nerdy guys are the worst."

"Yeah..." You muttered, fiddling with your straw. "Can I have another one?"

She pursed her lips, but she relented. Then, as she handed you the liquid, a guy sat next to you. Did he look like Spencer or were you already hallucinating?

"Hi. I'm Dave. Can I buy you a drink...?" He asked with a small smile, wanting to know your name.

No, not Spencer. It’s cool.

"Hi, I..."

MJ cut you off. "Hey, Dave, I think she had too much to drink already."

They exchanged looks and it took you a minute to feel offended by her interruption and knowing you were perfectly capable of speaking for yourself, but realizing you would probably have to entertain a stranger, you felt grateful for it.

Dave left with a sour smile. "Thanks." You muttered, again, looking at MJ.

"Do you need me to get you a cab, honey?"

"That would be great." You said, placing money bills to pay for your drinks and the tip.

MJ looked around to spot someone to keep an eye on the bar as she led you out of the place, hand never leaving your shoulder. As she called a cab, she made you stand on only one leg to make sure you weren't gonna need her to go with you. You scoffed, but obeyed her all the same, with a low snicker. As you two waited for the cab driver, a woman who MJ trusted with her life (and her favorite regulars), you tried to make conversation to make up for embarrassing yourself by talking about Spencer with someone. How pathetic.

"So, what does MJ stand for?"

She chuckled, shaking her head at you and at your dazed eyes. "That's classified information."

"I'm familiar with that."

The cab driver, Paula, arrived. She greeted the both of you with a smile and a cheerful good evening! As you entered the vehicle, you rolled the windows down and pressed the subject further, "Seriously, is it Mary Jane or were your parents more creative?"

She rolled your eyes at you, shaking her head. "It's Mary Jane. MJ because who would take me seriously?"

You smiled. "I like the shoes!"

Paula started driving slowly, just to let other drivers drop their own passengers, as you were lost in your own little world, serious expression taking over your face again, not wavering, as you delved deeper into the whirlwind of thoughts plaguing your head. Paula, looking at you through the rear-view mirror, asked, "Is everything okay, honey?"

You buckled your seatbelt. "Yes, yes. Just... keep driving slowly, please."

"Where to?"

Only then you realized you never gave her an address. Closing your eyes and taking a deep breath, you gave her Spencer's, telling her you were going home.

—

An unknown number had sent Spencer a couple of messages.

[8:32 p.m.] Lovergirl is here, drinking all by herself.

[8:32 p.m.] Water, but still. I'm not having her passed out without you here.

[8:40 p.m.] Sent her home, people were starting to approach.

Throughout the time he had spent with you at the bar, the two of you exchanged numbers with MJ in case she needed your help — you know, being FBI agents and whatnot. But Spencer didn't need to see her name to know it was her and she was talking about you; 'lovergirl' and 'passed out without you here' gave him clue enough. His stomach tied in knots when he read that people were starting to approach her, the nagging feeling that the image conjured in his mind was making him feel almost sick, then, it hit him like a truck: Lila Archer.

Their… case? was as fleeting as a careless glance. To be honest, Spencer accepted her advances to spite you for having such power over him, even if unknowingly so. The young agent felt like you were so out of his league, so out of reach — you were all that pile of confidence and stoicism and pure lusciousness and everything to him. And he was a young guy who truly had barely been kissed so far. How could he approach you, charm his way into your heart, especially when you barely bared it? With Lila, it was... nice. Easy, even. It was nice being wanted, to be able to read her intentions and desires like a children's book. With you, it was a tantalizing challenge, one he was, for the first time, struggling with. It was not like having a high-school crush, not like pining over the untouchable girls that would catch his interest as he grew older. No. This was something new. You had hit him deeper than ever or anyone before.

Plus, as much as he hated to admit it, he gave room to the anxious thoughts regarding your father as well. Would it affect his relationship with his superior? Would it affect your relationship with your father? Spencer felt dizzy just by the mere thought of ruining something uniquely yours. No, he couldn't impose himself on your life like that. It was mean, it was wrong, it was immoral.

To want, to desire, is to be selfish.

It was a bold assumption. To think you were jealous of him. Nevertheless, the signs were all there, had been all along. He was just dumb and scared enough of making assumptions.

A barely there, faint sound of a knock on his door made Spencer fly out of his bed, dropping his phone on the bedroom floor, but he didn't pick it up. He had a suspicion as to who could be knocking on his door, but he was too scared of assuming anything. Again. Opening the door, he saw you, breathing a bit heavily. The stairs, he supposed. You always complained about them. Once you exchanged looks, Spencer’s surprised one and your earnest one, you asked, "Do you really think I'm a robot?"

Shit. He could feel his heart breaking in a million little pieces. The insecure edge of your voice and words made him squeeze his eyes shut; in his mind, he was kicking himself simultaneously as he sank down to his knees, on your feet, begging you to forgive and forget his dumb, stupid, frustrated, unrealistic words.

"No," he breathed out, wincing, almost as if he was in physical pain. "I—I didn't mean to talk about you like that. I was..."

"Frustrated?"

He nodded, silently, eyes never leaving your face. Your speech, albeit way out of the ordinary that he was used to, was flawless. If not by the dilated pupils and the faint smell of alcohol, not to mention MJ's texts, he would dare to say you were perfectly sober. "I was, too." You admitted, looking down.

Spencer made way for you to enter his apartment. He watched as you kicked your shoes off. The sight, that had become as common as the act of breathing, made his way flutter. You intended on staying. Or so he hoped. You walked further into the place, noticing everything as it ever was, as if you hadn't been to his apartment for some time now. "You must be thinking why I'm here," you said, moving to sit on the couch and mentioning him to sit on the small coffee table in front of you, as if you owned the place, and not him.

Perhaps it was true.

He closed the door once you were inside, hesitating for a moment before joining you. He kept noticing things about you; the way you were walking, the way you could barely look him in the eye, the way you looked… “How much did you have to drink?” He asked, quietly.

"Not much. You know I don't usually drink because I can’t hold my drinks. And I'm sure MJ was giving me plain water at some point." You said, looking up at him. Well, at least, your speech flawlessly delivered, even though you were moving a bit more… disoriented than usual. She's totally a Hotchner.

"I... I am," he started, sitting in front of you carefully. "I... I'm sorry. It's just... You've never been so distant. I guess that I was mean to you to elicit some reaction."

Your analytical gaze softened upon his confession. You needed to give him some break, be a little easy on him. Well, easier than you were being as of lately. Nodding lightly, you added, "I'm here to apologize, too. I know... I know that I pushed you away and I made you think that... that that was your fault. It's not."

He froze. No, he wouldn't have you taking the blame for how his actions caused you to react. He looked up at you, reaching out a hand to touch your intertwined ones, "It is."

"Hear me out. Please." You said, lowly, not breaking eye contact. This was so hard, and you had never felt so afraid before. How ironic ��� to be afraid of being brave. "I... I guess that by now you know why I pulled away."

"I do," he admitted, nervously. "It took me some time, but I... I think I figured you out."

You looked down, embarrassed. It was overwhelming for him to see you portray such different and so many emotions all at once. To you, it was as agonizing as it was freeing. "Well, yes. So... It, um, it wasn't fair. We... we are not something. We are not a thing."

His heart, doing all the thinking and feeling, nearly stopped. As if it wasn't enough, you kept on going, "I'm sorry, I truly am, for how I behaved and how I made you feel by being absent. It's... it's not my place. You have your own life, Reid. I can't be upset with you for making decisions. You're a grown man..." you sighed, glancing at every direction but at him. "I know that I'm wrong, okay? And I know that I shouldn't have pushed you away, nor should I have kept my feelings from you."

Spencer drew in a long breath. He didn't know what to say, but you couldn't be more wrong. All at once, he wanted to scream, but he didn't know what ro say; he wanted to run, but he didn't want to leave you alone — not for a second. He didn't ever want you out of his sight; he didn't want to be the one you were apologizing to, hell, he wanted everything to be okay between them, but it was nice that she was talking to him, finally.

"I..."

Every time he thought he could say something, words failed him. Then, you took it as another opportunity to word-vomit everything you've been feeling. "I was... I was jealous. I didn't like to see that. I didn't like that it happened. But I also know that I have no right to be upset with you because you're single and she's attractive and you're both consenting and willing to do whatever you please, so..." You shrugged as if speaking those words aloud didn't stab new holes in your heart.

Spencer looked at you, totally speechless. It made you snicker. And speak further. Shut up, you idiot. Please, please, please! "And, ah—hahahah—I guess I am, indeed, a bit of a robot because it took me a bit of alcohol to pluck up the courage to come here and totally—hic—destroy our friendship by telling you I love you so much; that I'd hate to see you with anyone other than me. It happened and I hated it. It still stings."

Spencer's heart threatened to fail once again. Your giggles, your words, your confession... His mind completely short-circuited. She loved him. She loved him? She loved him?!?!???!!! That’s what she’d just said, apparently. Okay, calm down. And she’d been jealous. She didn’t like him kissing another woman, because she fucking loved him. Say something, you dumb idiot, his brain shrieked. Say something!

You parted your lips to say something else, but apparently decided against it. Another beat of silence of Spencer staring dumbly at you. "I'm going," you blurted out, standing up.

Spencer, at breakneck speed, stood up as well to stop you from walking away, placing his hands tentatively on your shoulders. Your bodies were now apart by mere inches. "No." His voice was so small and pained that you sat back down.

Despite your apparent willingness, your next words told him about your turmoil. "Why would I stay, Spencer? I've been pouring my heart out to you and you haven't said a thing."

Looking at you, so bare and so vulnerable, Spencer suddenly had flashbacks from when he had lashed out on you earlier and simultaneously fought the feelings that were bubbling inside of him upon your confession. Couldn't you see the sheer shock on his face? Couldn't you see that he was battling against every single bit of self restraint not to pull you into his embrace and make you believe him when he would tell you that you were the only woman for him?

Sure, he had dreamed of you saying those words to him countless times as time went by and you two got closer. Shit, he literally dreamed of it. Of you. Speaking sweet nothings to him... He broke out of his daze, realizing that he was deadly silent, "Don't go..."

"Then say something. I'm here. Not as Hotch's daughter, not as your coworker, not as a part of the team you work with. I'm here as the woman in whose heart you've grown over the last few months. I'm terrified of your answer and you keep depriving me of it." There was a hint of annoyance and hurry on your voice, and he could understand you, he truly could. He just didn't... he lost his voice when he looked at you.

Saying your name softly, he beginned, “I said stupid, untrue things, and I’m sorry. I’m a jerk, and I know that I’m a jerk and—" You quirked your eyebrow and he took a deep breath, trying to cut his rant. "Just... don't sit there and think that I have nothing to say."

"Have you said it?" You pressed it, quirking an eyebrow.

"No." He admitted, widening his eyes a bit as he realized his mistake.

At the same time, you shot, "Not saying something is also an answer for me—"

"—but not for the reasons you're thinking! Do you know how hard it is for me right now?" Spencer was starting to sound very desperate and pathetic, not to mention the fact that he wasn't answering your questions.

Deep breaths (from both ends).

"Look, Reid..." He glared at you upon hearing his last name. "I think I should go home. You and I clearly need some space—"

"What we need to do is talk."

You sighed. "Then why won't you give me an answer?"

Silence.

"You won't even remember this in the morning."

At that, you deemed yourself utterly defeated. This was useless. "I'm sorry I came over. I'm... I'll just go, okay? Please, don't be upset about tonight. I apologize in advance."

The sight of her, once more shying away from him and turning to escape from him, was making Spencer frustrated, with himself, to no end. His heart clenched at your apology, to which he shook his head vehemently. The thing is, he wanted to get ready to answer you, properly, just like he always had some trick up his sleeve or some funny or curious fact to blurt during the most random moments. Spencer was good at speaking, but only when the speech was already ingrained into his mind, something he had read or rehearsed before. Plus, he was sure your state of drunkenness would stop you from remembering that moment.

Spencer dashed to his door, barely stopping you. No, no, no, no, no... She can't leave. This might be my only chance. "You're not going anywhere."

"Excuse me?"

"Stay with me. I don't want you to go." He said, softly, slowly, looking straight into your eyes. It made you dizzy. Either that or the alcohol.

"No?"

"Y-you're drunk and I... I don't think it's safe for you to go by yourself and it's late and... and..." he trailed off, nervously, desperate to get you to stay.

"I'm not drunk."

"You're not fooling me. You might be as concise as ever but you're not sober. Stay."

"Promise... promise you won't be upset with me?"

His heart dropped, heavy with guilt. And with love for you. "I promise."

Spencer silently led you back to the couch, gingerly holding your hand. He felt dazzled, speechless, desperate, frustrated, all at once. But your touch was starting to ground him back to reality, where you were real, having confessed your feelings for him, and he was a mess, not even being able to say anything back. Without much thinking, he said, "You should stay over tonight."

"Okay... I'll take the couch."

"As if I'd let you sleep on the couch."

"It's okay."

"Stop... stop acting like I sent you away."

You kept silent. You felt like he did. Through his touch, he hoped to get you to understand that his feelings were a mess, but they existed, and they were real, and they were yours. "That'd be alright with me, you know. Taking your couch. I think I would sleep better on your floor than I would ever in my bed. To... to say that anything is better if you're somehow involved."

His stomach made a flip-flop. Brain short-circuited again. You yawned, as if you had just made an annoying comment on the weather.

"Are you tired?" He managed to mutter.

"I am."

"Come on. Let's get you to bed."

"No."

"What do you mean 'no'? I'm not letting you on the couch. Come on."

"I can't go to your bed with outside clothes." You booped his nose.

He chuckled lowly, confused a little by your words. "Are you seriously worried about clothes?"

"You don't like germs. That's why I removed my shoes."

Okay, he thought, if I manage to put her to sleep without having a heart attack, I definitely don't need a cardiologist's appointment because it would mean I'm that strong.

"Y-you... remembered?" Damn it, Reid. Stop stuttering.

You sighed, tiredly, and rested your head on his shoulder, looking down at his hand holding yours. "I remember everything about you."

"You do?"

"Yes. Fortunately or unfortunately."

Spencer was too stunned to speak. Too stunned, too dumb, too afraid. Damn it. Damn it. He couldn't stop cursing internally. He forced himself to pull you towards his bedroom and even though he still sensed some uncertainty, he kept going. Reaching for a pair of sweatpants and a big t-shirt, he gave those to you. "You can change into these," as he left the room to make you more comfortable.

"Wait!" You almost shrieked.

"What happened?" He prompted, worriedly, reaching a hand out to touch your arm.

"I don't want you to go."

He bit back a sigh. "I'll be just outside."

"Just... stay here?"

"I can't—" he interrupted himself, just turning around so his back was to you instead. At that, he looked up at his ceiling and prayed to any deity to let him survive that night.

He could hear the sounds of your movements. The zipper being undone, the soft ruffling of the fabric as you tugged your shirt up your head... He was imagining your exposed skin, every perfect inch, how would you look without all those clothes that suited you so nicely, how would it be to touch you, to run his fingertips all over your heated skin, how would it be to kiss every freckle on your body, to—"Done."

Turning around, the sight was adorable, which made him somewhat guilty of his early impure thoughts. "I feel like Alice when she shrunk into a tiny human."

He couldn't fight the smile at your words. He led you to his bed, where you laid on your back on top of the covers, staring at the ceiling. Spencer left you briefly to get you a glass of water and some painkillers to leave by the bedside table. You thanked him with a silent glance. As he turned to leave, once again, you said in a small voice, almost phrasing it like a question, too afraid of the answer. "Stay."

"I'll take the couch."

"You asked me to stay, thrice, I guess… And I did. I asked you once and you did. I still have a few requests left. I'm keeping tabs."

He relented, laying next to you and placing a pillow between you two. You breathed out a chuckle and he shook his head, clearly knowing where your mind had gone to. He placed his hand on top of the pillow, offering his comfort, and then you tentatively placed yours on top of his. He grinned to himself.

It was hard for him to wrap his head around what had happened that night. He knew his words — or lack of — could be read the wrong way and you possibly did, but he also hoped that his actions were speaking louder. Just as he was getting lost in thought again, he heard your voice once more.

"Spence?"

That damned nickname.

"Thanks for, um, being so respectful. Not that I don't think you'd be. But, um, as you've said, I'm drunk. And I told you I love you. And you're simply holding my hand." He gulped. He was keeping count, too, of how many times you said you loved him. Twice, so far, but he wanted so much more, endlessly. He wanted to lose track. "I guess... that makes me love you even more," you finished, crushing his heart between your palms, voice thick with sleep.

When he finally turned his head to look at you, your eyes were closed and you looked peaceful, drifting off to sleep. Then, when he was sure you were actually asleep, he stood up from his bed, grabbing a pillow and a spare blanket to lay on the floor.

"I'll gladly sleep on my floor if it means I get to have you around, too..."

—

Spencer didn't get any sleep.

He tossed and turned on the floor all night long, both because his carpet was not the most comfortable spot to sleep on, but also and mostly because there was no way in hell his mind stopped working. All through the night, Spencer fought the urge to shake you awake to ask if this was real, if you really loved him, if the words that slipped through your lips were in fact your feelings towards him. Despite his curiosity and eagerness, he let you sleep, figuring that he had already put you through too much already. As you slept, a movie played on his mind: your moments together, your confession of love, and overthinking the words we are not something. We are not a thing. He feared that you would wake up and realize how badly he had screwed up and decide not to want him anymore. Yes, he was that anxious.

You, on the other hand, even though confused by his lack of answer to your heart’s words, felt lighter than ever by speaking out your truth (the booze did help you a lot, though). Being as analytical as you were had its perks. One of them is that you never let yourself suffer too much for too long, too attached to reality to care much about the rest. So what if he rejected you? Life goes on — and that’s what you thought with every other loser that you caught yourself thinking too much of. Spencer, though… Who were you kidding? Spencer was Spencer. And that meant the world… It wasn’t so bad, if he actually rejected you… you’d only have to face him every day, until the rest of your lives, doomed to work together, cursed to think and rethink all over again small, fleeting moments such as an exchange of longing glances.

(You felt strangely calm due to your touch with reality. Maybe, just maybe, you were hoping for the best based on his care with and for you. But boy, were you ready to give him a piece of your mind.)

As your eyes fluttered open, you stretched your limbs on an unfamiliar bed with too much space. Upon your confusion, the memories came back with full force. You jolted, sitting down, searching for him — and, to be honest, not wanting to find him. The house was deadly silent, so you tried to trick yourself that you were sure he wasn't there. You dashed to the bathroom, taking a quick shower to get rid of the shame and the faint reek of alcohol. As you moved around his stuff, you couldn't help but think that you were so familiar with his things that it was almost like you belonged there. Sigh. It turns out that hiding emotions is easier than feeling them, especially their extremes.

As soon as you finished putting on your own clothes, you stopped dead in your tracks as you heard footsteps outside the bedroom. You froze, not knowing what to say. Or do.

Spencer entered the room, holding a tray meticulously organized with some food on it. “Morning. I, um, made you breakfast.” Because of course he would make you fucking breakfast. 

“Morning,” you replied awkwardly and hoarsely. Maybe you cried a little bit, who knows… “Thanks, you didn't have to.”

“I did.”

You take your time to get a good look at him. He had bags under his eyes that appeared to be tired. The sight made your heart drop. “I'm sorry…”

“Don't be.”

“But I was wrong.”

“So was I.”

“But—”

“Last night you said some things. Do you, uh, do you remember what you told me?” You nodded, unable to speak. “Do you remember what you told me?” He repeated, trying to get a verbal answer from you.

“Yes, Spencer. I remember.”

“Can you listen to what I have to say now?”

You nodded, weakly.

“I didn't say anything because… because everything had gone in the most opposite direction they could've gone.” He said, approaching you calmly. “I was up the entire night, hoping to find the right words to tell you that would make you believe me after I… was stupid. I… First, I'm sorry I made you feel that way. I know you said that we're nothing, that we weren't something, that we didn't have anything… but… but you're everything to me.” At that, your eyes finally met his. The intensity of your gaze made him shudder, but he kept going. “All the time we've spent together was nothing compared to what I want to have with you… and… and… God! Do you have any idea of the torture I was put through with you? Constantly thinking of what we could be, what we should be, too scared of your reaction or that—that—that Hotch decided to chop off my neck because he found out that I was crushing on his only daughter!”

At the mention of your dad, you burst out laughing. Seriously? That was such a cliché! “Hey! I'm serious!”

“I'm sorry…” You bit your bottom lip, fighting the urge to laugh at him some more. He was adorable.

“As I was saying,” he continued, trying to sound annoyed, but a hint of a smile threatened to break on his lips, and he didn't pull away when you approached him nor he did when you wrapped your arms around his waist, resting your chin on his chest, looking up at him, adoringly. He looked down, meeting your gaze,  “I… I love you. I love you too. God, it just feels so good to say that!”

You giggled, again. God, he could never get used to that sound.

“And I’m sorry for being so mean to you when I was frustrated. I should have been more patient and my unthoughtful words hurt you.” You kept silent, remembering his words. “I—I’ll spend the rest of my life apologizing if you’ll have me.” He added, intimidated by your gaze.

Silence. “Well, I accept your apologies. I was unfair to you as well. And you know where I stand when it comes to you. My feelings, I mean.”

“I do… But…”

“But?”

“I'd like to hear you say it.”

“Say what?”

“That you love me?”

“I don't know. Do I, really?” You joked.

He blushed furiously, ready to stutter himself out of that situation. “No, I mean… you—you said that—that you remembered what you said last night and… so… putting two and two…”

Another giggle interrupted him. You traced his jawline, leaning up to kiss his right cheek. “I really, really love you.” A kiss to his left cheek. He chuckled. “I love you.” A kiss on the tip of his nose, to which he snorted, totally lovestruck. “So much.” A lingering, tender kiss to his forehead. He closed his eyes, already anticipating the next spot you would press your soft lips to.

As you made your way to finally kiss his lips, you decided to tease him and let him wait for a bit longer. Spencer groaned in protest and you chuckled a bit, finally deciding that it was enough. Pressing your lips to the corner of his mouth, making him sigh, you were thrilling on making him more and more eager. His grip on you tightened just slightly as he let out a shaky breath. You wanted to laugh, but instead, you poked fun at him. “Now you know what it's like to be teased.”

“I love you. Oh, Jesus… You're driving me insane. You're here… And you, you're you…”

You grinned, looking up at him, finally, finally pressing your lips to his. As you let out a small sigh, his breath hitched, both of you utterly drowning in relief and satisfaction. You pulled back a bit, grinning, going back to kissing him. Spencer's hands found your jawline, sliding back to tangle in your hair as he sucked your bottom lip into his mouth. Parting your lips slightly, you granted him full access to kiss you properly, and he moaned at the taste of you, gripping your hair rougher than before. You groaned softly, and he proudly heard and swallowed all your small sounds.

The ring of a phone broke the urgent atmosphere that was building between you two. Spencer ignored it, letting it ring until you pulled away, gasping for air. As you did, the noise stopped and you met his lost eyes, totally dumbstruck, and you laughed because you probably looked the same way. He gave you a charming, lopsided grin, too stupid, too hypnotized to say anything.

The phone began ringing again. “Son of a…!” he cursed, picking up the phone. “Hi, this is Dr. Spencer Reid and unless this is an absolute emergency, I'm kinda busy—”

“Reid.” Aaron Hotchner's firm voice hit Spencer like a bucket of cold water. Widening his eyes, he gulped.

“Yes… sir?” You smiled at that. Of course you knew who he was talking to.

“We have a new case.” Hotch announced.

“Oh… okay… I, um, I—I'll be there in 20.”

Silence.

“Is everything okay, Reid?” Hotchner could read anyone, Spencer was now sure of that. Even through the goddamned phone.

“Wh—yeah, yeah… Everything's… totally f—fine.” He cursed under his breath as you gripped his vest, trying not to laugh.

“Do you know where she is?” Hotch inquired after another moment of quietness. 

“Who?” He squeaked. You chuckled silently.

“My daughter.” Of course it was his daughter.

Playing dumb is not a good look on you, you mouthed.

“N—no… I haven't… heard from her.”

“Sure.” Hotch said, skeptically. Spencer could feel the sweat on his forehead. After a moment, your father finished the call with an unreadable “We need to talk.”

Once the phone call ended, you burst out laughing at Spencer's reaction. “Not funny.” He protested, a frown on his face and a soft smile betraying his faux frustration.

“Come on, it is funny.”

He glared at you. “What do you think he wants to talk about?”

“I don't know. Men talk. I wouldn't want to get involved.” You said, grinning, pulling him by his vest.

He squeezed his eyes shut, relishing in the feeling of having you so close. “Do you think he knows?”

“Of course he knows.”

“How are you so collected?”

“Because I'm not the one he's going to scare to death, apparently.”

“He said ‘we’ need to talk. Emphasizing ‘we’. If he knows you’re here, then it probably—” you cut him off with a kiss.

“Well, then… Are you ready to face your biggest fear? The frightening Aaron Hotchner?”

Glancing at you adoringly, he chuckled. “I’d face him and whoever, whatever, a thousand times, if it meant that I could get you in the end.”

—

A couple days after the case, you and Spencer meet again, in your apartment. Sitting down on the couch, you ask him, amusedly, “Do you think he noticed?” 

“Totally. I could barely look him in the eye for the first moments,” He said with a fond smile, hiding from you the fact that he had awkwardly and bravely spoken to your dad about your relationship. You laughed, placing your legs on the top of his legs. “I guess we should thank Lila, after all.” He joked, and you laughed out loud. 

Leaning him closer to him, grabbing his chin and looking deep into his eyes, you muttered, “Don’t ever say her name again, Spence.”

Your wish was always his command. It would always be.

[miedei]

hii, i saw your requests are open, so i was thinking how about spencer and reader have a fwb thing going on, but he always told her not to get attached, so she breaks things off and spencer seems fine with that, until he realizes that she goes on dates with other people so maybe they fight about it and they confess their feelings

YES i love this concept nonnie my love this is amazing

not jealous

wc: 1.2k

ex-fwb!spencer gets jealous, but he doesn't have any feelings for you... right?

cw: a little suggestive i think, i can't be held responsible for the things i think ab spencer reid, wrote this in a fugue state that's the only way i can explain this

(PS: reblogs are the only way to promote fics on tumblr! please reblog if you enjoyed it :) )

mlist

Penelope Garcia is one of Spencer's favourite people in the world, but at this very moment he feels the shameful urge to tell her to shut up.

"Honey, you'd love him! He's a doctor at the hospital a few streets down, so he understands the whole married-to-the-job thing, and he's smart! Just one date, my love, please? You can totally ghost him afterward if you hate him, though I don't think you will," Garcia is perched on your desk, right across from Spencers, so he can't tune this out, despite his repeated attempts to.

You can't help but sigh, staring up at Garcia as she continues to speak. She means well, you know that. You never told her what happened, but she can tell that you've been lonely, and she's doing everything she can to help.

You can't tell her, you know that, but it doesn't stop you from wanting to.

"It's probably best if we stay like this. We can be coworkers, friends. It'd be easier if we stay unattached."

The words Spencer said to you months ago are still fresh in your mind. You'd agreed, drunk on the feeling of being wanted, and you were aware that feelings would make things more complicated. You knew that, and yet-

"Spencer, we need to stop. I can't do this no-strings-attached thing anymore."

"Then we can- we can stop. We'll stay friends, right?"

"Right."

Months of stolen moments, hotel room beds, and tangled limbs had gone to your head, and cutting it off had been the best thing to do. Spencer had made it clear that your arrangement was only viable when both of you didn't have feelings, and you knew that.

Getting over someone is hard enough, but Spencer Reid is worse. He's always there, soft smiles and rambling conversations. He seemingly hasn't been affected by the end of your situation at all.

Snapping back to reality, you look up at Garcia, who's looking at you with a hopeful smile. You can see Spencer out of the corner of your eye, staring at his monitor like he couldn't care less who you date.

It's infuriating.

He's over it! He was probably never as attached as you were, why would he care if you date?

"You know what? Give me his number."

"Yes!" Garcia pumps a fist before swooping down to press a kiss to your cheek. "You won't regret this, I swear!" She grabs a business card out of her pocket and hands it to you, squeezing you one more time before flouncing off.

You fondle the stiff cardboard once, before placing it down on your desk.

Spencer hates him. James Lee. The cursive scripture on the business card stares up at him, mocking him as he tries to work. Your desk is always neat, knickknacks all in their proper spot, so the card is out of place, that's why Spencer can't stop sneaking looks at it.

He's a doctor. So is Spencer. Three times over! If you wanted to date a doctor, why not look for him instead of James Lee, MD.

A PhD's much better than an MD anyway. More effort.

He sighs. He's being petulant, he knows that. You're allowed to date people.

Even if Spencer's the one that knows the way you stretch when you've just woken up. Even if he's the one that's felt your skin under his hands. Even if he's the one that's learned how to elicit those sounds from you.

He can't take it any more, rising abruptly from his desk, stomping over to the kitchenette. The coffee pot is nearly empty, and he pours the dregs into his cup, spooning sugar into it with barely restrained movements.

He can hear Emily humming, Morgan tapping his pen against his desk. He can hear you, typing away at your phone.

He can't take it any more.

Stalking over to his desk, he picks up a random file, and stands by your elbow.

"I need to talk to you about this file. Can you help me find the other report?" He all but melts with relief when you set down your phone, following him to the storage room readily.

Being in close quarters like this causes memories to come rushing back, and you can't help the blush that comes to your face. Shaking your head slightly, you look up at Spencer, resolutely shutting out the images in your mind.

"What report are we looking for?"

He looks sheepish, but his eyes are intense as he looks down at you.

"There's no report. I need to talk to you." You tilt your head in confusion, focusing entirely on him. "Don't go on a date with him."

"What?"

"That guy." He nearly spits out his words. "Garcia's friend. Don't go out with him."

What? He's acting weird, completely still as his eyes blaze into yours.

"Why do you care if I go out with him? Garcia said he's a good guy, I trust her."

He shakes his head. "I'm- I'm sure he's normal. Nice. But you shouldn't go out with him."

He's infuriating, dancing around whatever he means.

"Why, Spencer? I think this would be good for me! I want to have fun."

"With him? You don't know him! Why not go out with someone you-" He cuts himself off, his hand flying to his hair in frustration. "Why this guy? Why not someone you know?" If it weren't Spencer, you'd say he was growling, his eyes dark.

Is he angry at you for going out with this guy?

"What? Are you seriously mad at me? For what?" His eyes flash at your words.

"Why date him? Why not-"

"Who would I date? You? Are you angry at me for dating someone else when we never dated at all? Spencer, you wanted no feelings! I did what you asked, I ended- whatever we were, because you said we shouldn't involve feelings!" Your chest tightens, looking away from him.

"What are you saying? You ended it because... Why didn't you tell me?" He ducks his head, trying to meet your gaze. You've had enough. Enough of his maddening words, making you feel bad for doing what he asked of you.

"Spencer, you're being unfair. What more do you want me to tell you? Do you want me to tell you that I wanted more? I ended it because I caught feelings, and you didn't want that, so I told you we had to stop because I couldn't hide it from you, not when we were always together, and-"

You're stunned into silence when his hands come up to frame your face, impossibly gentle as large fingers trace your jaw.

"You're right, I said that." A hand travels higher, cupping your cheek. "I shouldn't have, though. I should've... should've told you."

You can't help but whisper, the intimacy of the moment blanketing the small room in quiet. "Told me what?"

As if in answer, he ducks his head towards you, and you instinctually crane your head upwards to meet his lips.

It's practised, even if it's been a while. Your hands travel up his sides, bracing your palms on either side of his jaw as his come down to grip your waist.

His lips are soft yet insistent, pressing against you like he's trying to impart a message. Lips part, breath stolen, and it's minutes before either of you pulls back.

Your forehead presses against his, chest heaving. His eyes are light, and a breathless giggle leaves his lips as he looks at you.

"Don't go on that date. Please."

"You're going to have to take that up with Garcia."

[littleslaywrites]

don’t stand so close to me | professor!spencer reid x student!reader 

nsfw, mdni

summary: you meet spencer at his office hours, despite the rumors that your classmates are spreading about your possible relationship

word count: 2.3k

cw: f!reader, smut, fingering, p in v sex, protected sex, semi-public, office sex

You weren’t sure how anyone could pay attention to Professor Reid’s class. Not when he was standing there, looking gorgeous behind the lectern. Every time you almost could focus, he’d make eye contact with you, stopping your train of thought in its tracks. 

It was even worse when you went to office hours. He was the awkward type of charming, making you blush as he helped you with your work. You had to stop going a few weeks ago as you’d end up soaked and frustrated by the time you left.

Not only was your absence to keep you from wanting him too badly, but you were more than aware of the way your classmates spoke of you. Rumors passed were tossed around, speculating on your relationship to Professor Reid. You explained this away, reminding those who were bold enough to approach you that you were one of the few students who wasn’t auditing the class, so it was only logical that you’d spend more time in his office than those who weren’t being graded.

What you couldn’t explain away, though, was the way he looked at you. “I swear to god, he bit his lip when he looked at her,” one girl sitting behind you whispered to her friend. You tried not to blush, both embarrassed by the attention and hopeful that what they said was true. 

As a result of your distraction and avoidance of office hours, you did less than ideally on your last exam, so you set out to go to his office on a Friday afternoon. You felt nervous on the way there, heart rate increased at the prospect of seeing your professor so closely.

His office was deep inside one of the halls, on a basement floor and down a long hallway. Approaching the wooden door, you slowly open it, even more nervous than before, now that you’ve realized you’re the only one around. 

“Good afternoon,” you say awkwardly when you step inside the office. Professor Reid is behind a large wood desk, taking notes inside a book. The lamp in front of him is the only thing providing illumination, and you can’t help but think of how good he looks in the low light. 

“Good afternoon,” he echoed, closing the book. “Sit down.”

You obey, taking a seat in the chair in front of him.

“I assume this is related to your last exam,” he says as he opens a drawer and pulls out a folder. You nod, too nervous to speak. The warm dimness is similar to the lighting that’d be found in an intimate restaurant. You try to banish the inappropriate thoughts, knowing how wrong it is to think about your professor in this way. 

He produces your test, laying it in front of him. “You’ve stopped coming to office hours,” he says, looking over your answers. 

The silence prompts you to respond, letting out a small “yes”. 

He then begins to go over the test, answer by answer. You’re trying to focus, but his long fingers are running along the words on the page, pulling your attention away. 

He reaches a question that’s particularly marked up with red writing, and turns the paper around. Leaning in, he begins to show you the mistakes on the short answer. He’s monologuing, saying something about behavioral positivism. Your gaze is downcast, too nervous to make eye contact, and instead opting to focus on the paper. 

“Look at me,” he says suddenly. Your eyes shoot up, and you fight not to blush as his brown eyes study yours. “It seems like you’re distracted.”

You have no reply. He leans forward in your silence. “What are you thinking about?” 

“I’m not–”

“Yes, you are.” He motions for you to come closer, and you lean in. Your faces are close, close enough to feel each other’s breath. You can’t seem to pull your eyes away from him. “Is it me?”

You’re still speechless. Your mind is racing as you try to find a response. It doesn’t help when he reaches a hand up and pushes your hair behind your ear. He’s scandalously close now, lips just inches from yours. 

“Am I what you’re thinking about?”

“Yes,” you murmur, shy from the admission. 

Your confession is all he needs, and he closes the distance between you. His lips cover yours as his hands grab the sides of your face. 

If there was anything left in your brain, it’s gone now. His kiss is soft and his touch is firm. You close your eyes and give in to the sensation of his tongue invading your mouth. It’s a gentle intrusion, like a soft breeze slipping through an open window on a hot day.

When you pull away to catch your breath, his teeth hold onto your bottom lip before releasing you. 

“Lock the door,” he says in a low voice. You follow his directions and turn back to see him dumping everything atop the desk into a drawer. Your legs are like jelly, and you think that you must be dreaming. “Come here,” he commands, and you meet him behind the desk.

You stand face to face, and he’s staring down at you. Even in the dimness, you can see something in his eyes– lust.

“Do you want this,” he almost whispers, “do you want me?”

His question reminds you of his introverted nature. You feel a bit more at ease as you realize he’s almost as nervous as you are.

“Yes,” you whisper back.

He reaches out to touch you, hand snaking around your waist as he pulls you into another kiss. He’s nipping at your mouth and suckling at the places on your lips where he’s bitten you. You only break apart when he pulls off your shirt. His large hands go to your bare skin, running along your torso, stopping briefly to squeeze at your breasts.

His tongue pokes out of his mouth, wetting his bottom lip, and you need to kiss him again. You lean in, hands finding the back of his and gripping at his hair. He groans into your mouth, the vibrations going straight to your core.

You let go of his hair and begin to work on his tie. Pulling it away from his collar, you throw it somewhere in the room, and begin to unbutton his shirt. You’re desperate to feel his bare skin on yours. When you’ve gotten all the buttons undone, he shrugs off his shirt and backs up to pull his undershirt off. 

You stare at each other for a moment, fighting shyness as you feel exposed in your black bra. 

He makes the first move, grabbing your hips to guide you to the desk. He pushes you against it, mouth going to your neck to leave sloppy kisses.

While he’s focused on marking you up, you unbutton your jeans and kick them away, leaving you only in your underwear. To make it even, you reach for his pants, pulling the belt out of its loops. You make it as far as getting his zipper down before he pushes your hands away.

You’re trapped between the desk and his leaning form. His breath is hot against your face, nose pressing against each other as you catch your breath. 

“I’ve missed you,” he whispers into your ear, lips brushing against you. “Why’d you stop coming to my office hours?”

“I–” your words catch in your throat as his long fingers brush you from outside your underwear.

“Was it because of what they say about us?” He pulls the crotch of your panties to the side and feels the dampness that’s been pooling since the moment you entered the room. “Why don’t we prove them right?”

All of his questions go unanswered, as your mind is consumed with the way he’s touching you. “Please,” you whine as he thumbs at your clit as lightly as he can. 

“Good girl, so polite,” he says to himself as he slips a finger in you. You moan, his digit brushing against your velvety walls. In response, he adds another finger, thrusting slowly.

"Professor Reid…” you whimper as his fingers reach deep inside you.

“Spencer,” he says, looking down at you with dilated pupils. “Call me Spencer.”

You have no words to call him anything when he curls his fingers, and you cry out. You’re glad he’s pressed against you, as you’re sure your legs would be unable to support you without his help. 

Before you can reach your climax, he pulls his hand away, briefly sucking his fingers to taste you. 

“Spencer,” you whine, feeling empty. 

He grabs your ass once before pulling your panties down. “Sit,” he says, guiding you to the side of the desk, and you lift yourself up to the desk. Your legs dangle awkwardly, and you worry that your wetness is pooling on the wood below you.

He reaches around to take off your bra, discarding it at your feet. He lightly kisses your chest, licking your nipple once before stepping back to take his own pants off. 

You’re nothing short of desperate as you watch him undress. Even without his touch, you’re breathless, mindlessly grinding against the desk below you.

“Needy girl,” he says as he sees the way you’re watching him. 

“Please, Spencer,” you say, hand moving to circle your clit when you see the bulge in his underwear. “I need you inside me.”

“Anything you want, baby.”

He pushes you down so you’re on your back. His hands explore your naked form, touch electric against your skin. Every brush of his fingers has you rubbing your legs together to relieve any pressure you can. 

You whine as he teases you, and he can’t resist when you begin to mindlessly spread your legs from him. He grabs your hips and pulls you to the edge of the desk, and your legs wrap around his hips.

He leans down to place a quick kiss on your stomach before he rids himself of his underwear. His cock is now free, and you see the precum dripping out of his slit.

You’re barely resisting the urge to beg when he runs his tip along your pussy. He groans, head thrown back as he ruts against you. His hands press down on your hips to keep you from moving against him. 

“Stop teasing.” Your words are nearly sobs, barely escaping as you pant. 

“Sorry, baby,” he groans. “You just feel too good.”

He pulls a drawer open, rummaging through before retrieving a condom. He rolls it onto his length, stroking himself once before moving to touch you again. 

Squeezing at the flesh on your hips, he pushes inside, making it about a third of the way before he has to stop. 

He puts a hand down on the desk and leans above you. He breathes rhythmically to keep himself from finishing inside you before he can even get all the way in. Your plush walls overwhelm him, wrapping him up in a warm embrace.

When he’s sure he can last, he pushes all the way inside. He lets out a whimper, and you think it's the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard. Your hips are grinding against him as much as they can while he’s holding you down.

Slowly, he pulls away and pushes back inside, feeling the way you squeeze him. He’s let go of any remaining dignity, whining and whimpering as he thrusts. 

You can feel every twitch of his cock, back arching as his length strokes your insides. You feel complete, like his cock was made just to fill you up. 

His hands run along your legs, pulling them higher to reach you at a deeper angle. He’s hitting you in just the right spot, now. His breath quivers as his thrusts become more manic. 

Your pussy flutters around him as his skin slaps against yours. He swears he can feel your heartbeat around his cock. 

You’d feel self-conscious of your sounds if you didn’t know how empty the building is. Spencer’s eyes are closed as he groans along with you, noises combing until you don’t know whose moans are who’s. The sound of his skin against your ass fills the room, a sinful symphony that’d make your activities obvious to anyone that happened to walk by.

“Spencer, I’m…” your words turn into a sigh as his tip hits your sweet spot.

“I know,” he says, “me, too.”

His thrusts become disorganized as he tries to hold on until you cum. He’s determined to make you finish first.

Your legs wrap tightly against his waist as you feel your orgasm begin to overtake you. A rush of warmth comes over your whole body as your pleasure peaks. You let out an obnoxious moan, back arching as your skin flushes.

Spencer lets go when he feels the telling tightening around his cock. He shudders as he fills the condom, head thrown back as he shamelessly whimpers.

The two of you stay like that for a minute, trying to force your breathing to return to normal. He regretfully pulls out of you, burying the condom in the trash under some discarded papers. 

Moving back to where you're laying, he lightly runs hands along your legs, bringing you back to reality. Suddenly, you realize that you’re sitting in a pool of your own fluids, and you feel a little embarrassed.

“I’m sorry I made a mess of your desk,” you say, fighting shyness again.

“You can ruin my desk any day.” He grabs your hand and pulls you up so you’re sitting with him standing between your legs.

He runs his fingers through your hair, and you lean your head against his chest.

“How are you feeling?” he asks, concern lacing his words.

“Good. Really good.”

He hums, a hand stroking your back. 

“So you’ve heard the rumors,” you say, remembering his earlier remarks.

“Maybe.”

“I guess we gave them something to talk about.”

He chuckles. “Will you start coming to office hours again?”

“You’ve convinced me." You meet his eyes, and a plants a soft kiss on your forehead "You’re very persuasive.”

[mariechristine00]

He was so funny for that😂

Can we shout out the time Reid decided to greet a general with a peace sign I love this man he's so unserious sometimes

[magical-reid]

Only if You Hold My Hand

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Gn!Reader

Word Count: 1.1K

Prompt: 7: “Go with me?” “Only if you hold my hand.”

Summary: Nervously, you ask Spencer to join you at a pop-up art exhibit, only to have him unexpectedly request that you hold his hand to help him navigate the crowds. As the evening unfolds, the simple gesture sparks the beginning of something more between the two of you.

The BAU’s bullpen was unusually quiet for a Thursday evening, the soft hum of computers and the occasional rustling of papers the only sounds breaking the stillness. A low murmur of voices drifted from the break room, but it did little to disrupt the otherwise tranquil atmosphere. You were seated at your desk, nervously twirling a pen between your fingers, your mind circling around the task you’d set for yourself. Spencer sat a few desks away, his brow furrowed in concentration as he worked through a stack of case files, his posture so focused it was almost as if the world had shrunk down to the papers in front of him.

You had been staring at him for the better part of ten minutes, your thoughts racing but never quite finding the words you needed. The sensation of nerves bubbled in your stomach, leaving you restless. Your heart thudded unevenly in your chest, a constant reminder of the request you were about to make. Your palms, damp with anxiety, clung to the cool surface of your desk. It was a simple request, really—asking Spencer to go somewhere with you. Yet the mere thought of asking him, someone who had quietly captured your heart over the last year, left you on edge.

You didn’t want to admit it, but you’d been planning for this moment all day. The art exhibit was an easy excuse—something you’d found out about earlier in the week. But it was never really about the exhibit. You just wanted to spend time with him, in a way that felt normal and unforced. Still, as you watched him read the case files, you couldn’t shake the fear of being rejected.

You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to stand, your legs feeling a little unsteady as you walked toward him. The clack of your shoes against the hard floor seemed loud in the otherwise quiet bullpen, but you forced yourself to keep going.

“Spencer,” you said, your voice a little too high, betraying the nervousness you were trying so hard to keep in check. You swallowed, your throat tight as you tried again, this time forcing a casual tone. “I was wondering if you’d come with me to something.”

He looked up from his case files, his honey-brown eyes soft behind his glasses, taking in the sudden shift in your demeanor. He blinked, setting the file down carefully as he adjusted his position in his chair. “Oh, hey,” he said, his voice warm and inviting. “Did you need help with something?”

“No,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “I mean, yes, but not with a case.” You paused, taking a steadying breath as you clasped your hands together, trying to keep them from fidgeting. “I just… There’s this thing happening downtown tonight. A pop-up art exhibit. I thought it might be fun, but I didn’t want to go alone.”

His brows furrowed slightly, his expression shifting from curiosity to a mix of surprise and thoughtfulness. He tilted his head in that familiar way that made your heart skip a beat, and for a moment, you wondered if you’d overstepped. Spencer, after all, was rarely the first to say yes to an invitation that took him outside his comfort zone.

“Go with you?” he repeated, his voice thoughtful, but not dismissive.

You nodded quickly, biting your lip, and your words rushed out, almost a breathless confession. “Yeah. It’s no big deal, just something I thought would be fun. But, you know, I didn’t want to go alone. I thought maybe you’d want to join me?”

Spencer’s gaze flickered over your face, lingering there in a way that made your cheeks flush with heat. His lips parted slightly, as if he were about to say something, but then he hesitated, brow furrowing in that way that made you wonder if you’d misjudged the situation. A few long seconds stretched on between you, your stomach tightening with each passing moment. But then, to your surprise, he gave you a small, shy smile—one you had come to cherish over the last few months, even if he didn’t always realize how much it meant.

“I’d love to go,” he said, his voice tentative but warm. “But… I have to admit, I’m not great with crowds.” He rubbed the back of his neck nervously, a gesture that mirrored the anxious energy you were feeling. “I think I’d feel better if, uh… if we held hands while we were there.”

Your breath caught in your throat, the unexpected sweetness of his request throwing you off balance. It was almost too much for a moment—Spencer, the man who was brilliant and awkward in equal measure, asking for something so simple, yet so intimate.

“What?” you managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper, unable to fully grasp what he had just said.

He ducked his head slightly, a pink hue blooming across his cheeks as he stammered. “I mean… I just—I think I’d feel a lot better if you, you know… held my hand. Would that be okay?”

Your heart fluttered at the vulnerability in his voice. The quiet, tentative way he asked was so very Spencer, and it softened you in ways you hadn’t expected.

“I’d be happy to,” you said softly, your lips curving into a smile that felt more genuine than you’d expected.

A visible wave of relief washed over him, his shoulders relaxing as he seemed to find solid ground again. You caught him fidgeting with the edge of the file he had been holding, his fingers nervously drumming the paper as if he wasn’t sure what to do next.

“Okay,” he said, his voice lighter now. “Let me just grab my coat.”

You smiled as he stood and moved to his desk, gathering his things. The tension in the air between you had shifted, replaced by something warmer, more comfortable. The nerves that had gripped you both seemed to fade as Spencer slipped on his jacket, and the two of you stepped out of the bullpen together.

As you made your way toward the elevator, the crisp evening air welcoming you outside, your hand brushed against his. The contact, so brief yet electric, sent a jolt through you, and you hesitated for only a second. Then, with a little more confidence than you felt, you slipped your fingers between his, intertwining them in a way that felt so natural, so right, that it made your heart beat faster.

Spencer glanced down at your joined hands, a small but genuine smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He didn’t say anything, but the way his eyes softened told you everything you needed to know.

“Thanks for asking me,” he said quietly, his voice so tender that it made your chest feel full.

You squeezed his hand gently, your heart racing but in a different way now. “Thanks for saying yes.”

In that simple moment, walking side by side toward the evening ahead, you knew that tonight wouldn’t just be the start of something new—it would be the beginning of a journey neither of you had fully anticipated, but both were more than ready to embrace.

[reidgif]

spencer reid + the washington dc hoodie

[thatawkwardlittlefangirl]

me rn

his puppy eyes got me on my knees

[badathumanemotions]

Good Boy

Spencer Reid x Reader MDNI Masterlist Category: Smut CW: Light Angst, Puppy Play, Sub Spencer, Collars, Dry Humping, Oral Sex (F. rec), Vaginal Sex, Breeding. WC: 6,376 Spencer is being short with you and you put him in his place. (Not Proof Read)

Spencer had been off for the last couple of days. Not just stressed, but moody and unusually snippy, especially with you. It wasn’t like him to be short-tempered, let alone with you, but every little thing seemed to set him off lately.

You’d given him space at first, figuring he needed time to sort through whatever was bothering him. But the attitude hadn’t stopped, and your patience was running thin.

You leaned back in your office chair, the glow of your laptop illuminating the quiet room. The sound of the front door closing signalled Spencer’s return from the grocery store. Without looking up, you called out, “Hey, did you grab the almond milk?”

“Yes,” came Spencer’s curt reply, sharper than necessary.

You frowned, glancing up from your work. His tone hadn’t gone unnoticed, and after two days of his snippiness, your patience was starting to wear thin. “Everything okay out there?” you called, keeping your voice calm.

“Everything’s fine,” he snapped, followed by the sound of a cabinet door shutting harder than it needed to.

You pushed your chair back with a sigh, making your way into the kitchen. Spencer was at the counter, aggressively stacking items on the shelf with an air of irritation that felt entirely unwarranted.

“Fine, huh?” you asked, leaning casually against the doorway.

He glanced at you briefly before returning to the groceries. “Yes. Fine,” he repeated, his words clipped.

“Right.” You watched him for a moment, taking in the way his jaw clenched and his fingers trembled as he shoved a box of crackers into place. His irritation was almost palpable, though it clearly had nothing to do with you—or at least, it shouldn’t have.

“Spencer, talk to me,” you said, your tone soft but steady.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” he replied, still not looking at you. “Why does everyone always have to make everything such a big deal?”

Your eyebrows lifted at his choice of words. “Everyone?” you repeated. “Who’s everyone, exactly? Because I don’t recall making anything into a big deal.”

He froze for half a second before continuing with the groceries, clearly realizing his misstep. “Forget I said anything.”

You straightened, no longer leaning against the door frame. “No, I don’t think I will,” you said, stepping into the kitchen. “You’ve been snapping at me for two days now, and I’ve let it slide because I know work’s been rough. But I’m not your punching bag, Spencer. If you’re upset, you need to say so. Otherwise, this little attitude of yours needs to stop.”

He turned to face you then, his expression caught somewhere between frustration and guilt. “I said I’m fine,” he insisted, though the tension in his voice made it clear he wasn’t.

“Spencer,” you said, your voice firm now. “Look at me.”

His eyes darted to yours reluctantly, and you could see the flicker of conflict in his gaze. He was digging in his heels, and it only made your resolve strengthen.

“Last chance,” you said, stepping closer. “Either tell me what’s going on, or we’re going to handle this another way.”

He hesitated, his jaw tightening again. “I don’t know what you want me to say,” he muttered finally, the stubbornness in his voice enough to push you past your limit.

“Alright,” you said, your tone calm but unmistakably authoritative. “Then we’re done talking. You’ve been brimming with misplaced annoyance, and since you can’t seem to control yourself, I’m going to handle it for you.”

Spencer’s breath hitched, his defiance faltering as your words sank in. His eyes widened slightly, the hint of challenge quickly giving way to submission as he realized where this was going.

“Finish putting those away,” you instructed, your voice low and steady. “Then we’ll deal with your behaviour properly.”

Spencer’s defiance started to crack when you caught his eye. You could tell he was trying to soften you up with that look—the one that always got him out of trouble. His big, doe eyes widened slightly, his lashes fluttering as he looked up at you. It was his signature puppy-dog eyes—and you knew exactly what he was trying to do.

He stepped closer, his voice taking on that quiet, almost childlike quality. “I’m sorry,” he said, his words soft and apologetic. “I didn’t mean to be snippy.”

You stood firm, arms crossed over your chest. “Spencer,” you said, your tone resolute. “This has been going on for two days now. You don’t get to just apologize with those eyes and expect me to let it slide.”

He leaned in a little, his lips pouting just enough to make it clear he was trying to charm his way out of trouble, those puppy-dog eyes fixed on you. “Please,” he said, barely above a whisper.

You shook your head, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips, but you weren’t giving in. “What happened to my good boy?” you asked, your voice dropping into a firm, almost disappointed tone. “This attitude? It’s not like you.”

Spencer’s shoulders slumped a little at the words, the usual playful glint in his eyes replaced by something more uncertain. The pout deepened, and he dropped his gaze, clearly feeling the weight of your words.

“Good boys don’t act like this, Spencer,” you continued, your voice cool but with a trace of affection. “You’ve been a bad boy, and now you’re going to be punished for it.”

He hesitated for a moment, then his eyes flickered up to yours again, a faint blush rising on his cheeks. The blush wasn’t from embarrassment—it was the warmth of something else, something you knew well. His gaze lingered a little longer, and you could see how hard he was trying to hold himself back, but the arousal in his eyes was undeniable.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, quieter this time, as though he was willing to accept whatever came next.

You nodded, keeping your voice calm but firm. “Good. You know the rules. You’ve earned your punishment.”

Spencer’s blush deepened as he nodded obediently. “Yes, master.”

You took a step closer, giving him a final look. “Finish what you’re doing. When you're done, come find me. We’ll take care of your punishment then.”

Spencer’s hands trembled slightly as he placed the last of the groceries in the cabinet. It was a quiet task, but his mind was far from focused on it. The weight of your words hung heavy in his thoughts, and he couldn’t shake the feeling of anticipation building in his chest.

He took a deep breath, steadying himself as he finished closing the pantry door, and gave the kitchen one last glance. His stomach twisted in knots as he straightened up, wiping his hands nervously on his pants.

Spencer hesitated for a moment, standing still in the kitchen as his heart pounded in his chest. He didn’t want to disappoint you, but the thought of what was coming next made him feel vulnerable. He didn’t want to be punished, but part of him knew it was exactly what he deserved. He had been snippy, and now he had to face the consequences.

With a shaky exhale, he finally moved toward the study. His footsteps were soft as he crossed the hallway, and as he reached the door, he paused, running a hand through his hair. The sound of his breath felt louder than it should’ve been as he stood on the threshold, his eyes casting a quick glance inside.

You were sitting at the desk, your posture relaxed, but there was an undeniable air of authority around you. Spencer swallowed hard, feeling a rush of both fear and excitement coursing through him. He stepped inside, closing the door softly behind him, but stayed a few feet away, not sure how to approach you.

Spencer softly called out your name, his voice quiet, almost uncertain. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his eyes downcast. He didn’t want to look too eager, but his body was already betraying him, the flush of arousal still lingering under the surface.

You didn’t look up from your work, not even acknowledging his presence at first. You let the tension build, letting him stew in his anxiety for a few moments before finally speaking. “Strip,” you said simply, not bothering to look up from the documents in front of you.

Spencer’s pulse quickened at the command, his hands moving almost of their own accord to the buttons of his shirt. He fumbled slightly, his fingers trembling as he began to undo them one by one. The fabric parted, revealing his pale, slender chest.

His eyes remained on the floor as he slipped the shirt off, letting it fall to the ground behind him. His breaths grew shallower as he reached for the waistband of his pants, the anticipation of what was to come making his heart race.

The silence in the room was unnerving, the only sound the rustle of fabric as he undressed. You remained focused on your work, not looking up, as if he wasn’t even there. It was a thrilling kind of power play, one that Spencer knew well, and it never failed to get his blood pumping.

He stepped out of his shoes, socks following suit, and then worked on his belt. His pants pooled around his ankles, and he stepped out of them, leaving him in nothing but his boxers. The fabric was tented, a clear indication of his arousal, and he knew you had to be aware of it.

With his heart racing, Spencer took the final step of obedience and pushed his boxers down, letting them fall to his ankles. He stepped out of them, leaving himself completely bare before you. The air was cold against his skin, making his nipples pebble and his cock jut out even more. He was fully exposed, vulnerable and at your mercy.

You finally looked up from your work, your eyes raking over him, taking in every inch of his trembling body. You nodded in approval, then pointed to the floor beside your chair. “Kneel,” you said, your voice still firm but with a hint of warmth.

Spencer’s throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. He took a step forward and sank to his knees, his hands resting on his thighs as he awaited further instruction. He felt the coolness of the hardwood floor against his knees. His eyes remained downcast, his breath shallow and fast as he awaited for what you had in store for him.

You reached into the drawer of your desk and pulled out the leather collar that signalled his role in your games. It was black and simple, yet held a significant meaning between the two of you. Spencer’s heart skipped a beat as you held it up to him, the metal tag jingling slightly as it dangled from the leather strap.

You fastened the collar around his neck, the cold metal of the tag brushing against his skin. The leather was smooth and cool against his throat, a stark contrast to the heat that flushed his cheeks. He felt the weight of the collar settle into place, it was a symbol of his submission, a physical reminder that he belonged to you.

“Good boy,” you murmured, the words sending a shiver down his spine. You returned to your work, not looking up, just letting the anticipation build. Spencer felt a strange mix of fear and excitement. This was a dynamic that played out between the two of you often, one that allowed him to shed his usual layers of intellectual armour and just be.

His cock pulsed in anticipation, the blood rushing to the tip as he waited for your next move. You knew just how to push his buttons—how to make him squirm and crave your attention. The silence stretched out, the air in the room filling with tension, and still, you did not look up from your work.

You felt his eyes on you, his need palpable, and a smug smile curved your lips. This was your favourite part, the moment when you had all the power. Spencer’s breath grew shallower, his chest rising and falling with each shallow inhale and exhale.

Finally, you reached out, your hand coming to rest on his head, stroking his hair gently. Spencer leaned into the touch, his eyes closing briefly as he felt the tension in his body melt away. It was a simple gesture, one that could be interpreted as comforting or patronizing in other contexts, but here, it was a clear assertion of dominance, of care.

You began to pet him, your fingers running through his soft hair, guiding his head downward. Spencer didn’t resist, his body moving instinctively as he felt the urge to be closer to you, to be held and controlled. His forehead came to rest on your thigh, and he let out a soft sigh of relief. The weight of your hand remained on him, grounding him, reminding him of his place.

But as quickly as it had come, you removed your touch. Spencer whined, a soft sound of protest escaping his lips, his eyes flying open to look up at you. The loss of contact was sudden, and it left him feeling needy.

"What's the matter?" you asked, your voice deceptively calm. "Does the little puppy want more?"

Spencer whined again, his eyes pleading. You knew exactly what he needed, but you weren't going to give it to him just yet. "Bad puppies only get what they're given," you reminded him, your voice firm.

With a deep breath, Spencer nodded, his cheeks flushing with both embarrassment and excitement. He knew you weren’t just playing a game; this was his chance to make amends, to show you that he could be the obedient one when it mattered.

You leaned back in your chair, watching him closely. “Good boy,” you murmured, and his cock twitched at the praise. “Now, show me how much you want to be my good boy. Hump my leg, Spencer. And remember, no cumming until I say so.”

You leaned back in your chair, watching him expectantly. Spencer took a moment to compose himself, then, with a soft whine, he leaned forward. His cock was already erect, bobbing slightly as he positioned himself closer to your leg. He pressed his forehead to your thigh, his hands gripping the fabric of your pants for stability.

He began to rub the hot flesh of his cock against your leg, his movements tentative at first. The fabric of your slacks was a barrier, but you could feel the heat of him, the way his cock slid against you with a gentle, needy insistence. The whine grew louder in his throat as he picked up the pace, his hips rocking slightly with each stroke.

The friction was minimal, a mere tease of what he craved, but it was enough to make his body respond. Spencer’s eyes fluttered closed, and his breath grew more ragged as he lost himself in the sensation. It was a simple act of submission, one that never failed to make him feel so alive, so present in the moment.

You watched him with a mix of amusement and desire, the way he moved with such unbridled need against you. His cheeks were flushed, and his breath was coming in short, sharp gasps that matched the rhythm of his hips. The sight was undeniably arousing.

You could feel the warmth of his cock through your pants, the gentle pressure increasing with every thrust. He was lost in the moment, his body moving on instinct, driven by a deep craving to please you. His movements grew more frantic, his breaths more desperate. You knew he was close to the edge, but you weren’t ready to let him come just yet.

Reaching down, you placed a firm hand on his shoulder, stopping his movements. Spencer whimpered at the sudden loss of contact, his eyes flying open to meet yours. “Not yet, pup,” you said, your voice a gentle reprimand. “You’re not allowed to cum until I give you permission. Remember?”

He nodded, his eyes wide and desperate. You could see the effort it took for him to hold back, his body trembling with the need to release. The sight made your own desire flare, but you remained in control, stroking his shoulder soothingly.

"Good boy," you said again, your voice a gentle purr that made his cock throb.

Spencer nodded, his breath coming in shallow pants as he leaned into your touch. The fabric of your pants was rough against his skin, but the warmth of your leg beneath it was a comfort. He took a moment to compose himself, then started again, his hips moving in a steady rhythm as he rubbed his cock against you.

You could feel the tension in his body as he held back, his muscles straining with the effort. The whine grew more insistent, his need for release palpable. Each stroke was a silent plea for more, for the sweet release that only you could give him.

You watched him, the sight of his naked body, so vulnerable and eager, making your own pulse race. Your hand moved from his shoulder to the back of his neck, gripping his collar gently but firmly, reminding him of his place. “That’s it, Spencer,” you murmured, your voice low and soothing. “Just like that. Show me how much you want it, how much you need it from me.”

Spencer’s hips rocked against you, his cock sliding against your leg with a wet sound that filled the room. He was so close, his entire body quivering with the effort to hold back. You could see the muscles in his abdomen contracting with every stroke, the desperation in his movements as he sought the relief he so desperately needed.

You leaned down, your hand moving to grip the base of his cock, holding it firmly in place. “Easy, pup,” you murmured, your voice a gentle reprimand. “Remember the rules. No cumming.”

Spencer’s eyes squeezed shut, and he nodded, his breath hitching. His body was tight, wound up like a spring, and you knew he was just moments away from breaking. You watched him, his face a picture of pure need as he struggled to maintain control.

With a smirk, you decided it was time to give him a little more. You undid the button of your slacks, sliding the zipper down. Spencer’s eyes snapped open at the sound, his gaze dropping to the opening of your pants as you reached inside.

You hooked your fingers into the waistband of your underwear, pulling it down to give him a glimpse of your damp folds. He licked his lips, his eyes glazed over with lust. You knew he was dying to touch you, to taste you, but he remained obedient, his movements against your leg never faltering.

With a smirk, you began to stroke yourself, your fingers slipping through your wetness with ease. Spencer’s eyes followed every movement, his own breathing growing more ragged with each pass of your hand over your clit. The sound of your wetness filled the room, complimenting the quiet whimpers escaping his lips.

You watched him, enjoying the way his cock bobbed with each stroke he gave it against your leg. It was clear he was desperate to taste you, to feel you, but he remained still, his eyes never leaving yours as he waited for permission. The power play was intoxicating, the control you had over him in this moment.

With a sly smile, you decided to give him a taste of what he wanted. "You've been such a good boy, Spencer," you murmured, your voice dripping with desire. "You've earned a little treat."

Spencer's eyes widened he watched, entranced, as you offered your glistening fingertips to him. "Taste," you said simply, your tone leaving no room for argument.

With a shaky hand, he reached up and took your fingers into his mouth, his tongue eagerly lapping at your essence. The taste of you was intoxicating, making him even more desperate to please. He sucked gently, savouring the flavour as you watched him with hooded eyes, your own arousal clear in your expression.

Then, without another word, you stood up, pushing your chair back. You stepped out of your shoes, then slowly slid your pants and panties down your legs, letting them pool around your ankles. Spencer’s eyes widened, his breath catching in his throat as he took in the sight of you—bare, open, and ready for him.

You sat back down on the chair, spreading your legs wide, giving him full access to your wet, waiting pussy. The leather was cool against your skin, contrasting the heat radiating from your core. Spencer stared for a moment, his eyes dark with lust before shuffling forward knees, his cock bobbing eagerly.

"Eat me out, Spencer," you ordered, your voice a seductive purr that sent a thrill down his spine. "And be a good boy keep humping my leg."

Spencer didn't need to be told twice. He leaned in eagerly, his tongue flicking out to trace the folds of your sex. The salty sweetness of your arousal filled his senses as he lapped at your clit, the movements of his hips against your leg becoming more insistent. Each stroke of his cock sent a jolt of pleasure through him, and he could feel the precum leaking onto your skin.

You watched him with hooded eyes, your hand still on his neck, guiding him closer to your heat. His tongue was rough and hungry, exploring you with an intensity that made your toes curl. You could feel yourself growing wetter with each pass of his tongue, your hips lifting slightly off the chair to meet him.

Spencer lapped at you with a fervour that was almost animalistic—like a starving animal ready to feast. Each stroke of his tongue was desperate, eager to taste more of you, to please you in the most primal of ways. He knew his punishment was coming, but for now, he was lost in the task of making you come, of serving you.

Your thighs quivered under his touch, your grip on his neck tightening as his tongue delved deeper. He nuzzled into your folds, his nose pressing against the base of your clit as he licked and sucked with a rhythm that made you gasp. You could feel your orgasm building, a pressure that grew with each flick of his tongue.

Spencer's movements against your leg grew more urgent, his hips jerking as he felt your thigh muscles tense. He knew you were close, and the anticipation was driving him wild. The warmth of your cunt washed over his face, and he breathed you in, the scent of your arousal making him light-headed. His own cock was aching, but the promise of your climax was all that mattered.

As you felt yourself approaching the brink, your grip on his neck tightened, your hips bucking into his mouth. You moaned out, "Good boy," your voice thick with need. The words sent a bolt of pleasure through Spencer, making his cock throb against your leg. He doubled his efforts, his tongue moving with precision, eager to taste your release.

Spencer’s own hips were moving faster now, his cock sliding against your skin in a slick, desperate dance. The sound of your moans grew louder, your breath coming in quick, sharp gasps. He could feel the tension building in your body, the way your thighs tightened around his head. It was intoxicating, the power of knowing that he was the one giving you so much pleasure.

With one final, hard suck on your clit, you shuddered, your body arching as the orgasm crashed over you. Spencer's eyes went wide as he watched you, your face contorted in ecstasy. His own need was almost overwhelming, and he had to grip the base of his cock with a firm hand to keep from spilling his seed on the floor.

The head of his cock was a dark shade of red, the precum slick and plentiful. He could feel his pulse beating in the vein that ran along the underside, the desperate throb of his cock made him whimper. Yet, he held back, his eyes never leaving you as he waited for your command.

Your body was still trembling from the aftershocks of your orgasm, your chest rising and falling with each heavy breath. You looked down at him, a smug smile playing on your lips. You knew just how much he was fighting the urge to cum, the way his hand tightly gripped the base of his cock, the muscles in his forearm flexing with the effort.

Pride filled your chest at the sight of him, so eager, so obedient. You leaned down, cupping his cheek gently, your thumb brushing over his bottom lip. His eyes searched yours, desperate for approval, for a sign that he had done well.

"Such a good boy," you whispered, the words a warm caress that sent a shiver down Spencer's spine. "I'm so proud of you for being such an obedient pup." His cock throbbed against your leg in response, the need to cum almost painfully intense. He had never felt more exposed, more vulnerable, and yet, in this moment, with your praise, he felt more loved than ever.

Your kiss was soft at first, a gentle press of your lips to his, a silent praise for his submission. Spencer’s eyes closed, and he melted into the kiss, his body relaxing slightly. But you didn’t let it linger. You pulled away, leaving him panting and needy.

With a single word—“Follow”—you stood, the leather of the chair protesting with a soft squeak. You turned and walked out of the study, your bare ass swaying slightly with each step. Spencer’s eyes followed you, his hand dropping to his cock involuntarily before he caught himself.

He scrambled to his feet, his knees popping as he straightened up. The room spun briefly, a side effect of the intense need that had been building in him. But he didn’t hesitate, his eyes locked on your retreating form as he followed you into the hallway. His cock bobbed with each step, the cool air of the house making him even more sensitive.

When he walked into the bedroom, his breath caught in his throat at the sight of you. You were completely naked, on your hands and knees in the centre of the bed, your ass in the air. The light from the bedside lamp cast a warm glow over your skin, highlighting the curve of your back, the swell of your ass, and the wetness glistening between your thighs.

You looked over your shoulder, a knowing smile playing on your lips as you watched him approach. "You were so good for me, pup," you say seductively. "Come claim your reward."

Spencer didn't hesitate for a second. He practically leaped onto the bed, his body moving with a grace that belied his desperation. He positioned himself behind you, his cock brushing against your wet folds. You could feel his breath on your skin, hot and heavy with need.

With a low growl, he slammed into you, the force of his entry making your eyes roll back in your head. He didn't pull out at first, just rutted into you with quick, short thrusts that had you gasping for breath. Each movement sent a jolt of pleasure through your body, your pussy clenching around his shaft, eager to keep him deep inside.

Spencer's hands gripped your hips, his nails digging into your skin as he fucked you with a ferocity that was almost frightening. His teeth were bared, and his eyes had taken on a wild, desperate look as he chased his own release, his hips snapping forward with each punishing thrust.

The wet slap of skin against skin filled the room, mingling with your gasps and his grunts of exertion. Each impact sent shockwaves of sensation through Spencer's body, making him feel more alive than he had in what felt like an eternity.

His balls slapped against your clit with every deep, hard thrust, the rhythmic sting adding to the crescendo of pleasure that was building within you. It was an incredibly satisfying sensation, one that had you pushing back into him, urging him deeper, faster.

Spencer’s breath grew ragged as he claimed you, his hips moving in a steady, punishing rhythm. He could feel your body tightening around him, your muscles clenching in a silent plea for more. He was lost in the heat of the moment, his mind a blur of need and desire.

The idea of breeding filled his thoughts, an animalistic instinct that took hold and consumed him. He could feel the urge to fill you, to mark you as his own, to claim you in the most primal of ways. It was a driving force that went beyond the confines of their usual role play, reaching into the depths of his soul.

“You’re going to breed me, aren’t you, pup?” you panted, pushing back against him. “You’re going to fill me up with your seed and make me yours, aren’t you?”

The words sent a bolt of lust through Spencer’s body, his cock hardening even further. He nodded, his voice a low, animalistic growl. “Yes,” he managed to get out. “I’m going to breed you. I’m going to fill your tight cunt with my cum until you’re overflowing, until you’re begging for more, until you can’t think of anything but me fucking you, breeding you, claiming you as mine!”

You moaned at his words, the idea of it making you wetter than you already were. Your pussy clamped down around his cock, the walls spasming as he fucked you harder. The sound of his voice, so raw and unfiltered, was like a drug, pushing you closer to the edge.

But as much as you loved hearing him talk this way, you knew you had to reestablish your dominance. With a swift move, you pushed yourself up onto your knees, taking hold of his leather collar. Spencer’s eyes widened slightly, his pupils dilating with anticipation as he felt your grip tighten.

With surprising strength, you yanked him, pushing him onto his back on the bed. The snap back in power dynamics had him panting, his cock slipping out of you with a wet sound. He stared up at you, his chest heaving with the effort to keep his orgasm at bay.

Straddling him, you lined his cock up with your entrance, then slammed down onto it, taking him fully inside you once more. Spencer’s eyes rolled back in his head, his mouth falling open in a silent scream of pleasure. You began to ride him, setting a pace that was just shy of punishing.

Your hips rolled and bucked, each movement sending a fresh wave of pleasure through you. You could feel the head of his cock hit that perfect spot inside you, making your toes curl and your eyes water. Spencer’s hands found your waist, his fingers digging into your skin as he met your rhythm, thrusting up into you with a ferocity that had you gasping.

You leaned forward, your breasts swaying with each movement, your nipples brushing against his chest. The smell of sex was filling the air, a heady mix of your arousal and his desperation. You lowered your mouth to his ear, whispering, “You’re going to fill me up, aren’t you, puppy? You’re going to breed me like a good little boy, until I’m leaking your seed all over the bed.”

Spencer’s hips jerked in response. He could feel the pressure building in his balls, the need to cum almost unbearable. You could see the desperation in his eyes, the way his body tensed beneath you.

With a wicked smile, you leaned down, your breasts pressing against his chest as you whispered, “Claim me, Spencer. Make me yours. Fill me up until I’m swollen with your cum. I want to feel you in every part of me, forever marked as your bitch."

The words were like a trigger, and Spencer’s eyes lit up with a fiery need. With a snarl, he bucked his hips upward, slamming into you with a force that had the bed frame groaning in protest. Each thrust was punctuated with a needy grunt.

You could feel your own climax building again, the delicious friction of his cock against your walls driving you wild. Spencer’s eyes never left yours, the intensity of his gaze holding you captive as he pounded into you.

"I've been such a good boy, please, can I cum?" he whined, his voice high and needy. The desperation in his tone sent a thrill through your body, making your pussy tighten around his shaft.

"Beg for it," you said, your voice a low, seductive purr. Spencer's eyes widened, and he did as he was told, his voice a desperate wail as he pleaded for his release. "Please, ma'am, I need to fill you up. I need to claim you, to make you mine. Please let me cum."

You smirked at his desperate pleas, feeling the power of your dominance over him in this moment. With a single word command, "Cum," you gave him the permission he so desperately craved.

Spencer’s entire body tensed, his hips jerking up to meet yours as he released his load into you. The sensation of his warm seed filling you up was intense, sending you hurtling over the edge into your own orgasm. Your pussy spasmed around his cock, milking him for every last drop as you both rode out the waves of pleasure together.

Feeling him cum in you only added to your pleasure, the warmth and wetness spreading through your core, mixing with your own juices. You moaned deeply, your head falling back as you basked in the feeling of his possession. Spencer's eyes rolled back in his head, and he let out a low growl, his body shaking with the force of his climax.

As the aftershocks of your shared orgasm began to subside, you leaned forward, pressing your forehead to his, your breaths mingling as you both panted. His cock was still twitching inside you, the aftermath of his release sending delicious tremors through your body.

You slid off of him, his cum spilling out of you and onto the bed, a warm, sticky mess that neither of you seemed to mind. You both collapsed onto the mattress, limbs tangled as your bodies cooled down.

The room was quiet now, the glow of the bedside lamp casting soft shadows on the walls. Spencer lay against you, his head resting on your chest, the collar still snug around his neck—a tangible reminder of the dynamic you shared. His fingers traced aimless patterns on your hip, and while his body was relaxed, there was a faint tension in the way he held himself, like he was still carrying something unsaid.

You combed your fingers gently through his curls, waiting for him to speak. You knew Spencer well enough to know he needed time to gather his thoughts, especially when something was weighing on him.

Finally, he let out a small sigh. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice quiet but sincere.

“For what?” you prompted gently, your tone free of judgment but firm enough to encourage honesty.

“For snapping at you earlier,” he admitted, his fingers stilling on your hip. “For the last couple of days, really. I’ve just been… overwhelmed.” He paused, his voice faltering slightly. “And I didn’t know how to handle it, so I took it out on you. That wasn’t fair.”

You tilted his chin up so he could look at you, your gaze steady but warm. “It wasn’t fair,” you agreed, “but I’m glad you’re telling me now.” You ran your thumb along his cheek, offering him a soft smile. “I need you to talk to me when you’re feeling like that, Spencer. You don’t have to carry everything by yourself.”

His eyes flickered with guilt, but also relief. “I know,” he said softly. “It’s just hard sometimes. I don’t want to feel like I’m burdening you with my problems.”

“You’re never a burden,” you said firmly, your hand cupping his face. “We’re a team, remember? I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s going on.”

Spencer nodded, his eyes shining with emotion. “I’ll try to be better about it,” he promised, his voice earnest. “I don’t want to push you away.”

“You won’t,” you assured him, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “But I need you to be open with me, even when it’s hard. Can you do that?”

He swallowed hard, but his nod was resolute. “Yes,” he whispered.

“Good,” you said, your tone softening. “That’s my good boy.”

A faint blush rose to his cheeks at the praise, and he nuzzled against you, his arms tightening around your waist. You continued to stroke his hair, letting the moment settle into something tender and comforting.

“Thank you,” he said after a while, his voice muffled against your skin. “For being patient with me. For… everything.”

“Always,” you replied, your voice filled with quiet affection.

As the last vibrations of pleasure faded away, you reached up to unbuckle the leather collar around Spencer's neck. He flinched slightly at the touch, his body still hypersensitive from his intense climax. You took the collar off gently, setting it aside on the nightstand.

A soft blush rose on his cheeks, and he hid his face against your neck, the tiniest smile tugging at his lips. He wasn’t used to being cared for like this, but the way you held him made it feel natural.

“Are you comfortable?” you asked after a few minutes, your hand brushing along his side.

He nodded, his voice muffled. “Yeah. Just… don’t let go yet.”

“Never,” you promised, pulling the blankets up around you both. “I’ve got you.”

Spencer let out a contented hum, relaxing further into your embrace. The weight of the past few days had lifted, replaced by warmth, trust, and the quiet intimacy of the moment.

[waywardxrhea]

Won't Give Up - Spencer Reid

Heart's Desire (pt 1) / Soon You'll Get Better (pt 2)

pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!BAU!reader

word count: 7,584

Going to a routine follow-up appointment with Doctor Rubio lands you where you least expected it: back in the ER.

content: ANGST, lots of medical stuff (vomit mentioned as a warning for those who are queasy), canon typical themes - mentions of threats to safety and guns (it's a criminal minds fic, what can you really expect?), some inherently political topics (death row and guns - nothing to sway one way or another, they're just mentioned), fluff at the very end

“Are you sure you don’t want me to go with you?” Spencer asked as he gathered up his belongings in order to head to Quantico for the morning. 

“I’m sure,” you replied before kissing his cheek and handing him a to-go cup of coffee, just the way he liked it, of course. “I’ve dragged you away from work and the team enough already over the last few months. It’s just a routine follow-up and test to clear me for field work again.”

“But, what if-”

“Ah, ah, ah!" you interrupted him with a quiet laugh following. A fond smile made its way onto your lips, and you ghosted your knuckles over Spencer's jawline as you told him, “I love you, and I appreciate your concern for my health more than I can ever express, but it’s okay for you to not be at every appointment.”

“I just worry…” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion as he pulled you in for a hug. 

“I know you do,” you mumbled into his chest. “I’ll call you when the appointment is done, though. Should take around three hours for everything.”

“I wish they would have just had you do an exercise stress test. You’re seeing if you’re cleared to go back into the field, so why not do it with something that would mimic that?” 

You shrugged as he released you from the hug, telling him, “I guess because of how volatile my case was, they don’t wanna risk me falling out at the appointment.”

“That’s fair…” Spencer relented with a sigh. 

“Now go, before you’re late to work!” you said with a quiet laugh, one last kiss for the road landing on his lips before he turned toward the door. “I love you!” you called after him.

“I love you too!” he replied, the boyish grin returning to his features. He never tired of hearing you say those three little words. He had heard you say them in a manner of different ways over your time spent together as a couple, and each one made him happier than the last. As he made his way to his car, he couldn’t help his mind from wandering back to daydreams of the, hopefully not so distant future, he had been having recently…

You looked up as your name was called by the receptionist, and the nurse who would be taking you back gave you a smile as you approached her. “You ready?” the bright young lady asked as she held the door open for you.

“As I’ll ever be,” you told her, now following her down the small hall and into a room. 

As you got settled onto the table, the nurse started up the machine to take your vitals. You sat quietly as she took them and told you, “When we’re done with this, I’ll hook you up to the cardiac monitor so that we can track what’s going on in there as Doc gives the meds.”

“Sounds good,” you told her.

After hooking you up to the monitor, she opened a cabinet nearby and grabbed an IV kit and got started on giving you an IV so the doctor had access to give you the medications. When she finished and made sure it was working, she exited the room, telling you that she was going to grab the medications for the doctor.

When you were alone in the room once more, you got comfortable on the table as you took some calming breaths when your anxiety began to spike. You told yourself that you were going to be fine, that you would pass the test and be cleared for field work by the end of the week! Your positive thoughts were interrupted, though, and you had to sit up as you felt a wave of nausea hit you out of nowhere, a dizzying feeling taking hold as you positioned yourself upright. 

You jumped at the sharp knock that the nurse gave before entering the room, your heart racing in your chest as she opened the door to reveal herself with some medications in hand. She looked you over and asked, “Everything all right? You’re looking a little queasy.”

“Just got really nauseous all of a sudden,” you replied, a slow breath being blown out of your pursed lips. 

“Oh! I’ll go ask if we can get you some Phenergan real quick!” she said, making a quick exit from the room. 

When she returned, it was with the doctor, and she gave you a dose of the nausea medication through your IV. As the doctor washed his hands, another wave of nausea hit you before promptly being knocked away by the medicine. “Better?” the nurse asked quietly, concern evident in her voice. Finally being able to take a deep breath, you leaned against the wall and closed your eyes, nodding while you did. 

There was a beat of silence that filled the air before Doctor Rubio cleared his throat and said, “Becca, I just got a message from the front desk saying that they need you to help with rooming other patients. The other nurse got stuck in a room. I can take it from here.”

“You got it,” she told him, taking off her gloves and heading out of the room. 

When the door clicked shut, Doctor Rubio turned toward you with a syringe in hand that was filled with a milky white substance, and said, “All right, this is the first medication that we give for the stress test. Are you ready?”

“Yes sir,” you replied, adjusting yourself on the bed so you were laying down. 

You felt a cool sensation as the doctor attached the syringe to your IV and began pushing the medication, and within moments your eyes were becoming heavy and your mind started to cloud. Before sleep could overtake your body, you heard his voice close to your ear as he said, “Sleep tight, Agent… Smile when you wake up, you’ll be on camera.” 

When you woke up what felt like seconds later, you squeezed your eyes closed when they registered the bright lights shining at you from above, a noise of discontent leaving your throat. There was a stinging pain in your arm that had the IV in it that you tried to ignore while you figured out what the hell was going on. In the brief seconds that you had your eyes open, you saw some of your surroundings. You were in a room that mostly empty other than some equipment that was still covered in plastic. You must have been in the new wing of the hospital… Not that knowing that helped you at all…

A few seconds later, you turned your head and tried opening your eyes again. What you saw when you opened them was Doctor Rubio sitting at a laptop as a camera was trained right at you. When your eyes made contact with the logo on the back of the laptop, things started to click together. The logo matched the tattoo you noticed on his arm before. It was the very same one that was the symbol of a gun running group you took down when you worked for Homeland…

“Ah, you’re finally awake!” Rubio said as he stood up from the laptop and began approaching you. While he did, you tried to sit up, but couldn’t when you realized that you were restrained to the hospital bed he had you on. “I wouldn’t try that if I were you,” he said in a dark tone, and you were sure he was giving you a sick smile under the mask he was wearing, judging by the crinkles by his eyes. He leaned in close and said quietly, “And I wouldn’t say anything either, if you knew what was good for you. Every time you do, your time is cut even shorter.”

“See this?” he asked as he stood back up to his full height and gestured to a bag of fluid that was currently flowing into the IV in your arm. “This is potassium chloride. The very drug that they use on Death Row to stop people’s hearts.” 

When he said this, your eyes widened, and he chuckled as he said, “I think you know where this is going, Agent.” There was a brief pause before he continued, saying, “Four years ago, before you worked for the FBI, before you joined the BAU, you worked on a special task force at Homeland Security. That task force was charged with taking down a group of people who worked under a man they called Schütze.” He flashed you the tattoo and added, “Schütze stood for our freedom. Our rights! And you got him sent to Death Row!” You had tried to ignore the part of your past, but you did remember that sometime within the last year, one of your old friends from Homeland had told you that Schütze had been given the injection...

Anger filled your chest when he said this and reminded you of the fear you faced during that takedown, and in a moment of rage, you bitterly told him, “Schütze didn’t stand for freedom, he stood for chaos and murder. The guns he smuggled into this country were responsible for hundreds, if not thousands of deaths!”

“He stood for the second amendment freedoms that this country is trying to take away from us!” Rubio shouted. He tsked as he made his way to the IV pole and rolled the dial on the clamp so that the fluid ran just a little faster into your bloodstream as he said, “He knew that the only way for us to keep our weapons was to make sure they couldn’t be traced. He knew that one day, they would come for us all. He knew that with his product, we would be able to raise an army of freedom fighters to protect our rights!”

“You’re delusional…” you muttered as you took in the wild look in the man’s eyes. 

“Tell that to the thousands of people watching the stream right now. They’re all here to watch you die,” he said while gesturing toward the camera. The roller on the potassium was opened up a little more as he told you, “When someone gets the lethal injection, they’re first given a large dose of a sedative so they’re unconscious. Then, they’re chemically paralyzed with just as large a dose of a paralytic. After that, they’re injected with potent potassium chloride, and their heart stops within a minute.” Rubio gestured toward the camera again as he said, “These people, though, want to see you suffer. I do too, if I’m honest. You see, ever since I brought you back here and you took a little propofol induced nap, I’ve been loading you up with potassium. As time passes, you’ll experience more symptoms of hyperkalemia, and we will all revel in the joy that comes with watching someone you hate slowly die.”

All throughout this time, you were struggling against the restraints holding you down, but as he neared the end of his monologue, you began to feel a staticy sensation in your arms and legs, as if they were falling asleep. To combat it, you opened and closed your hands to try and regain the feeling in them, and Rubio only chuckled as he said, “You’re already starting to feel it, aren’t you? That numbness you’re getting right now is one of the early signs.” 

He sat back down behind the laptop before saying, “While that infuses, let’s read some of these comments from other followers of Schütze, yeah?” A sick laugh left his throat as he read, “‘If I knew the bitch was practically in my backyard, I would have shot her in the head myself.’ I wonder how close that one lives to you and your lovely boyfriend, Agent.”

“Leave him out of this,” you told him in a dangerous tone.

“Ooh these ones are asking who the lucky man is. Where they can find him. I do know where you live. It would just take a few keystrokes and they would all know too…” Rubio said with a sneer. 

“You wouldn’t dare!” you snapped, which caused him to stand up and approach you with a dangerous look in his eye. He turned up the rate again, and this time you couldn’t even feel the sting in your arm as he did. Looking down at it, though, you saw how irritated it was becoming, and you knew that something was wrong if you could no longer feel the pain. 

“Oh, I would, though,” he told you as he stooped down and began undoing your restraints. “If you can get out of here, be my guest, but I have a feeling you won’t be able to.”

With your arms and legs free, you wanted to rip the IV out of your arm and get off of the bed so you could make a break for it, but as you willed your arm to reach for the IV line to rip it out, you couldn’t even move it more than an inch. Your legs were no different, and in your attempt to get off of the bed, you just managed to flip over onto your side, facing the camera fully as you gave in. There was no way you were getting off of this bed. There was no way you were getting that IV line out. It was likely you would be dying in this room, in front of that camera. 

As Rubio sat back behind his laptop and began reading more hateful and threatening comments to you, a wave of nausea far worse than before hit you. You tried to breathe through it, but couldn’t as the discomfort only increased as the seconds passed with no end in sight. You wished the medicine they had given you earlier was still in your system, but it seemed to be nowhere to be found as nausea took over and your stomach began to heave. You begged your body to hold on, but you couldn’t any longer, and it took all of your core strength to move yourself closer to the edge of the bed as you emptied your stomach onto the floor. 

Hot tears began to flow from your eyes when you finally stopped throwing up after nearly a minute, the nausea still ever-present as you closed your eyes and tried to keep yourself from completely going into a panic attack. You felt humiliated. Broken. Defeated. You wished that Rubio would just get on with it. Kill you himself with one of those ghost guns he was so proud to support. Make it quick. But that wasn’t what they wanted… They wanted you to suffer.

And suffer, you did. 

Another wave of nausea hit you, and you threw up again, but this time when you were finished, you could barely catch your breath. Your breathing was ragged as you tried to get oxygen into your lungs unsuccessfully, and the room began spinning around you the longer you kept on like that. 

Panic set in soon after, and you could just barely hear Rubio’s commentary over the ringing in your ears. Not a coherent thought ran through your mind, and everything began to blur together. What you were sure of though, was the sudden pain in your chest as you felt your heart kick into arrhythmia. This one you were unfamiliar with, though. It was different from the one you were diagnosed with.

Even as you continued to find yourself in the midst of a panic attack, you felt your heart rate begin to slow over the next few minutes, going even more sluggish than your normal rate as time passed. Soon, black started to dot your vision and everything started to slow down as consciousness began to slip away from you. Through your clouded thoughts, you forced yourself to picture Spencer. If these were to be your last moments on this planet, you would at least be thinking of him. A tear slipped out of your eye as you pictured him smiling at you, and you swore you heard his voice as your thoughts began to fade…

Earlier…

One o’clock rolled around, and while he was sitting down to eat his lunch, Spencer checked his phone to see if you had called with any updates. When he didn’t see anything, he decided that he would call you instead. Maybe you had been given some anxiety medication for the procedure and didn’t remember to update him… Three calls going unanswered over the next hour began to worry Spencer, so he spoke with Hotch and told him that he was going to the hospital to check on you. 

When Spencer arrived at the front desk of the cardiology center, he gave them your name and asked if you were done with your procedure yet. The clerk typed into her computer and told him, “It shows she hasn’t checked out or made her second follow-up appointment yet. The procedure should be done, though, so let’s go see how she’s doing.”

“Thank you,” Spencer said as he followed her toward the nurses’ station. 

When they arrived in the area, their presence was unnoticed as a nurse who looked distressed was being spoken to by two people who looked like administration. “I don’t know what to tell you, Becca! The machine records show that at nine forty-eight, you took out three bags of potassium and a vial of propofol!” 

“How many times do I have to tell you that I didn’t do that? Check the cameras if you have to! What patient was it even for? No one I was rooming today had low potassium. If they were that critical, I would have sent them to the ED!” 

“All I know is that those meds were taken out under your name with an override by Doctor Rubio! I just need to know why! As for who it was for…” she said the last part as she ran her finger over the paper and stopped when she found what she was looking for.

Spencer felt like everything stopped when she read off your name. Had something happened? Why did you need that much potassium? Propofol was a potent sedative…why did you need that for the stress test? Before he could think, Spencer walked up to the small group and said, “Excuse me, I’m the medical POA for the patient you just mentioned. Can you tell me what happened?”

“Go ahead,” the stern woman told Becca.

“I got her to the room, took her vitals, and started her IV. When I came back with the meds for the stress test, she was super nauseated, so I got Doctor Rubio to order some Phenergan and grabbed that from the machine. I…” she paused for a moment as she thought through the story carefully. “I don’t remember hearing the exit tone for the computer… Doctor Rubio was right behind me and told me to wait for him to go back into the room. Maybe…”

“You better be damn sure of that story before accusing the doctor of something like that,” the other person said in a huff.

“Well, is she still in the room?” Spencer asked urgently as he started to piece things together. 

“Let’s go see,” the clerk said as she began leading Spencer toward the room you had been taken to earlier. 

When they got in, Spencer saw your purse on the chair in the corner, but no you in sight. Rage and fear gripped him tight, and his voice raised nearly to a shout as he asked, “Where is she?”

“I-I don’t know!” Becca said from behind Spencer. “They needed my help out here, and it got busy!”

“Where’s the doctor?” Spencer snapped as his mind raced a mile a minute. That was nearly four hours ago! Who knows what could have been done to you or where you even were!

“Sir, please don’t raise your voice or else we’re going to have to get security to remove you,” the administration worker told him as she approached, pulling her phone out of her pocket as she did so she could dial security. 

“Remove me?! My girlfriend is suddenly missing from the procedure room she was supposed to be in after a sedative was taken out under her name along with a lethal amount of potassium! You need to be working on getting security footage of where she was taken!” Spencer shouted. He fumbled for his badge in his pocket and flashed it to her as he said, “She’s a member of the FBI, and if you don’t start working on helping me find her, we will charge you with aiding and abetting the abduction of an FBI agent and, so help me if it came to this, murder!” 

“Agent, you need to calm down, you’re causing a scene!” the woman snapped at him, skepticism obvious in her eyes as she looked at Spencer's badge.

“It’s Doctor,” Spencer told her as he pulled out his phone and dialed Hotch. 

“Everything okay?” Hotch asked as he answered the phone. 

“She’s missing,” Spencer told him quickly. “The doctor took out a sedative and a lethal amount of potassium and she hasn’t been seen since. I need the team here to help me find her.”

“We’ll be there in ten minutes,” he said.

“Get Garcia to look into Doctor Jordan Rubio. He’s the one who might have taken her,” Spencer said before Hotch hung up and began briefing the team on what was going on at the hospital. 

The rest of the team showed up right as Spencer was arguing with security, telling them, “The longer this goes on, the less of a chance we have at finding her! Do you really want-”

“FBI, what’s going on here?” Hotch asked, flashing his badge as he approached the group still standing in the hallway. 

“You-you’re actually?” the administration lady said wearily as the team approached. 

“Yes, he’s actually FBI, and so is the agent that is missing from that room,” Hotch told her sternly. “Now, what you’re going to do is take me to where I can see the security footage of the last five hours, and we’re going to figure out where she was taken.”

“Y-yes sir,” she said timidly as her eyes turned down toward the floor. 

“JJ, Rossi, split up and start searching. Morgan, you’re with Reid. I’ll tell you if there are any updates from the security cameras,” Hotch directed, sending a look of concern Spencer’s way. 

“There’s a brand new wing being built, we’ll head that way,” Derek said before gesturing for Spencer to follow him as he hustled away. 

Spencer nodded and started to follow, worry evident in his voice as he began to say, “Derek, what if-”

“There’s no what if. We’re going to find her,” he told him firmly. “Now come on, we’ve got seven floors to search.”

Back in the security area, Hotch stood behind the person at the computer who was accessing the footage of the last few hours when his phone began to ring. “Talk to me, Garcia.”

“I was looking into the doctor and found some pages that he follows under a pseudonym on the dark web. They’re all in support of Schütze, the man she took down when she worked at Homeland, and-” 

She cut herself off abruptly, and Hotch heard the gasp of air that filled her lungs, so he asked sharply, “What is it, Garcia?”

“He’s live streaming right now… He…he’s… Oh, God, it’s awful, Hotch.” She swallowed hard before saying, “The stream is titled ‘Killing a Killer - Justice for Schütze’”

“Oh, God…” Hotch whispered, grabbing the back of the office chair in front of him. “Does it look like he has her in the hospital?”

“Yes, yes, there isn’t much in the room, but it looks like- Oh my God!”

“What?!” Hotch asked sharply.

“She’s-” Penelope had to turn away from the stream as she told Hotch, “She’s throwing up and it looks like she's having a hard time breathing! Oh, God…”

“Focus, Garcia! What’s the room look like?” 

“Right! There isn’t much in the room, it looks like it hasn’t been worked in. In the corner of the shot, there’s a cabinet that’s still got factory packaging covering it,” she replied after taking a few deep breaths to settle her own stomach. 

“Send me a picture of that video. I need to confirm with the staff that it’s here.”

“Sending it your way… Now,” she told him as she sent him the screenshot. 

Hotch’s phone rang with a notification, and he quickly looked at the photo. Sadness and rage began to pool in his chest as he shoved it under the security officer’s nose asking, “Is this here?”

“Oh, God…” the man whispered as he looked at the photo. He was quiet for a moment before he nodded and said, “That’s in the new wing. I couldn’t tell you which floor, though.”

Without a further word, Hotch turned and started running down the hall, pulling a walking off of his belt and radioing the others. “She’s in the new wing! JJ, Rossi, get there now! I’m heading there too. Morgan, Reid, what floor are you two on?”

“We cleared the first floor, she wasn’t there. Heading to the second now,” Derek responded. 

“Okay. JJ go to the third, Rossi to the fourth, and I’ll take the fifth. Work fast, there are still two floors above those,” Hotch ordered as he rounded a corner and pushed open the new wing’s stairwell door. 

“Three more doors, Reid, come on,” Derek said as he once again quietly closed a door so they wouldn’t give themselves away. 

“Wait!” Spencer exclaimed quietly, holding up a hand for Derek to stop what he was doing. “Do you hear that?”

Derek strained his ears to hear, and after a few seconds heard what Spencer was. Two doors down, they both heard a male’s voice speaking and then…laughing. White, hot rage filled Spencer’s entire being when he heard the laughter, but before he could make a move toward the door, Derek held out an arm in front of him as he said, “Look, I get that you want to get to her, but we need to be smart about this, man! Treat it like any other case. I’ll go for the unsub and you go to her. Got it?” 

“Got it,” Spencer said with a curt nod as Derek lowered his arm and raised the other to hold his firearm up as they approached the room. 

Spencer’s heart was racing as they approached the door, and as they got closer, the voice of Doctor Rubio was unmistakable. The things he was saying were vile… Of people wanting to hurt you. Stalk you. Kill you. It was all too much for Spencer to hear those things being said about you, and he almost missed Derek’s queue to bust into the room. He zoned in just in time though for Derek to swing the door open and announce, “FBI! Hands where I can see ‘em!”

“You hear that everyone? The FBI’s here to arrest me! If you see their faces, they’re targets too!” Rubio shouted as he stood up from the chair he was sitting in after hitting a few more buttons on his keyboard. 

“Jordan Rubio, you’re under arrest for the abduction and attempted murder of a federal agent. You have the right to remain silent. Everything you say can and will be held against you in a court of law,” Derek started to say to Rubio as he shoved him against the wall to begin cuffing him. 

Spencer paid no mind to what Derek was saying, though. The second he was in that room and saw that you were there, he shouted your name as he darted toward you. Taking a quick glance at the scene, he saw the IV bag of potassium pouring into you and grabbed for it, disconnecting the fluid from the line as quickly as he could. He saw your eyes closed and your body motionless on the bed, with only shallow breaths moving your chest up and down. “No, no, no, no, no, no, no!” Spencer whispered as he stepped carefully to avoid the sick on the floor. He gently tapped your cheek to rouse you, and when you didn’t stir, he checked your pulse, shouting, “She isn’t responding and her pulse is 47! Morgan, radio Hotch and tell him we need the ER team here now!” 

“By now her potassium level is likely nearing seven at least. That’s lethal. If she isn’t already gone, she doesn’t have much time left,” Rubio said with a sick laugh. 

“Man, shut the hell up!” Derek told him as he pulled his radio off of his belt and informed Hotch of the situation. After he radioed Hotch and got confirmation that the ER team was on their way, he turned toward the computer and hit the mute button as he dialed Penelope. When she answered, he was quick to say, “Hey, Baby Girl. I’m sure you already found this stream, but before I shut it down, I wanted to make sure you don’t need anything from it for evidence.”

“Shut it down, I've already got everything I need,” she told him promptly. He did so, and after a few keystrokes, the thing was shut off. “Now get that sick son of a bitch away from her.”

“Already on it,” Derek said as he hung up the phone and shoved it back into his pocket, grabbing Rubio by the cuffs and nudging him out of the door. 

When he got into the hallway, he had to jump out of the way of the ER team with their stretcher, who were quickly followed by Hotch, Rossi, and JJ as they all converged on the scene. “Is she gonna be okay?” JJ asked, out of breath from the run she just went on up and down the stairs. 

“I hope so,” Derek said, shaking his head sadly as he watched you being stretchered out of the room. The team had a bag mask they were using to help you breathe, and a crash cart was on the bed just in case the worst happened as you were being transported. Spencer trailed behind, rattling off your medical history and what he knew about what happened as they went. 

By the time you were in the emergency room, you had a team of nurses, a respiratory therapist, and a doctor surrounding you. As much as Spencer wanted to be by your side and hold your hand through this, he knew he would just be in the way, so he stood in the corner, helpless. One nurse who had run out of the room came back in, telling the doctor, “Her potassium level is 6.8.”

“We gotta K wash her. Courtney, put in orders for 80 milligrams of furosemide IV, ten units of regular insulin IV push, D50 IV push, and calcium gluconate IV. Order to recheck labs in an hour. Get a couple new IVs in her, this one’s badly extravasated. We'll some procaine hydrochloride 1% and lidocaine on board as well. She also needs a foley to monitor her output.” 

“On it,” the nurse at the computer said before she began rapidly typing into the computer to get orders in. Other nurses began carrying out the other orders, working together to get everything done before the medications arrived. 

Spencer took solace in the fact that after they gave you the medications, your heart rate started to head toward a normal rate, although the rhythm was still funky. When everything that could be done for the time was finished, Spencer was able to move from the corner, pulling up a chair beside the bed and lacing his fingers in yours. He let out a shaky breath as he lifted your hand to kiss the back of it, tears beginning to fall from his eyes when you didn’t show any sign of a response to him. “I’m sorry… I’m so…so sorry,” he whispered, his voice broken with emotion. 

“It’s not your fault, you know,” came Hotch’s voice from behind him as he entered the room. 

“I should’ve pushed to go with her to the appointment,” Spencer said, not turning to look at his unit chief because of the shame that filled his body at the fact that something like this even happened. 

“How could you have known?” he asked softly. “That brain of yours is capable of many things, but telling the future isn’t one of them.”

There was a silence that filled the air for a few moments before Spencer said, “He has a tattoo. On his wrist. It’s the logo of the group Schütze ran. It was on the laptop he was streaming with.”

“Had you seen the tattoo before today?” 

“No…” Spencer admitted. “I think she had though. The day we went to Rubio to get her diagnosis, she was distracted when he came into the room and washed his hands. He…” Spencer’s breathing picked up as he talked through the story and anger started to build inside his chest once more, his voice raising slightly as he said, “He even acknowledged that she saw it!” He finally looked toward Hotch, and he saw the anger in Spencer’s eyes as he did, a pang of sympathy resonating in his chest as Spencer plowed forward, telling him, “But she never said anything about it. Maybe she didn’t fully recognize it. The human brain tends to block out certain things as part of a trauma response, especially in cases like hers where she was threatened by the group’s followers for a while during the court proceedings. They stopped after a while, so she stopped worrying about them. Filed it all away in the back of her mind...”

“So, do you blame her?”

“W-what?” Spencer asked, shocked at the question. “Of course not!”

“Then don’t blame yourself, either,” he told him, a light squeeze on Spencer’s shoulder as he did. Before he turned to go, Hotch added, “The bureau's got US Marshals on the way to keep watch over the two of you. With the threats that were coming from that stream, safety is a vital concern right now. Until then, Morgan is going to stay here with the two of you, and a thoroughly vetted police officer will be posted outside of the door.”

“Thank you,” Spencer said with a short nod. 

“I’ll be checking in, but for now I think you need to focus on someone else,” he said with a small smile on his lips as he nodded his head toward you. 

When Spencer turned back toward you, he saw your eyes fluttering open, and a wide smile made its way onto his lips as he whispered, “Hey.”

“Spencer?” you asked wearily. A quiet sob fell from your lips before you said, “You found me…”

“Not just me, Derek too,” Spencer said as he grabbed your hand once more, right as the door opened to reveal Derek walking in. He squeezed your hand as he told you with all the sincerity in the world, “I would never give up on finding you. Ever.”

A smile made its way onto Derek’s face when he saw your eyes open, and it was evident in his voice as he said, “Hey, Sunshine!”

“Did you get him? Doctor Rubio?” you asked. 

Spencer looked to Derek for the answer, and he nodded, telling you, “He’s in custody right now. Charged with the abduction and attempted murder of a federal agent. He should get 25 to life without the possibility of parole. We just gotta do the work to make sure he gets life.”

As you nodded, you suddenly cringed at the pain in your arm, a sharp breath being sucked in as everything hit you at once. “Well, I can feel my limbs again…” you muttered as you leaned your head back onto the pillow, squeezing your eyes closed for some sort of relief that didn’t come. 

You were quiet for a few moments before tears began to spill from your eyes as you said, “I’m sorry, Spence… I… I should’ve known, I just… I couldn’t remember where I had seen that tattoo before. I was feeling sick right before he came in, and it got worse when I saw the tattoo again, and I-I should have just left. I should’ve just gone home and-”

“Hey, hey, hey, this isn’t on you,” Spencer told you, remembering Hotch’s words to him only minutes before. 

“Yeah, you can’t blame yourself for someone else’s actions. Especially those of a sociopath,” Derek reminded you. 

You barely heard their words, though, as a wave of nausea hit you. It wasn’t as strong as before when you were in that room with Rubio, but you practically felt the color drain from your face as your stomach lurched a bit. “I need a nurse…” you managed to whisper as you covered your mouth. 

Frantically looking around the room, Spencer spotted a package of alcohol swabs and grabbed one after hitting the button to summon a nurse to the room. He ripped it open and put it under your nose as he said, “Just breathe for me. In through your nose.” 

“What are you doing?” Derek asked, his eyebrows furrowed as he took in the scene in front of him. 

“Smelling isopropyl alcohol helps relieve nausea. There are a few theories as to why, one of which has to do with chemoreceptors in the brain, and another to do with the body naturally reacting to the strong smell by breathing in a way that helps reduce the nausea,” Spencer told him as the nurse entered the room. “Can she have anything for nausea?” he asked when she made their presence. 

“Yes, and I have to draw labs again to see what her potassium is, so I’ll do all that when I come back with that medicine,” she said, turning around and heading out the room. 

The results of the lab draw were still critical, so they transferred you to the ICU in order to receive aggressive treatment to bring the level down to normal. As the evening dragged on, your symptoms waxed and waned, with occasional heart palpitations and nausea being your biggest complaints. 

You were surprised that no one from the Bureau had come to question you about what happened. You were sure that it was heavily influenced by Hotch, who, you had no doubt was trying to give you time to heal before the barrage of questioning came. Your time to heal seemed to be up, though, when in the morning, there was a knock on the glass door and in came three people: Hotch, and two people who introduced themselves as agents from the Bureau and the US Marshal’s office respectively. 

Hotch sent you an apologetic look as they pulled up chairs and the bedside table so they could take notes and fill out forms as they talked with you. The hospital staff were informed that they were not allowed in the room unless there was an emergency, and the questioning began. 

During the line of questioning, you obviously had to inform the Bureau official taking your case about your relationship with Spencer, which earned a look of disapproval until Hotch pulled the papers you both signed out of a briefcase he had on the cabinet beside him. You took the agent through everything you felt was important to the case, telling him everything you could remember up until you blacked out. 

When he was done with his questions, the Marshal agent straightened up some papers on the table as she cleared her throat. “Now, I know that you recall some of the comments that Doctor Rubio read to you while he had you down there, but we went through all that Agent Garcia archived, and we have some concerns.”

“Concerns such as?” Spencer asked.

“Well, we’re concerned that, even after the case is tried, there will still be a threat to her safety,” she told him. She turned back to you and said, “There were numerous threats for stalking, killing, and even sexual assault. Even more so than during the trial for Schütze. And we've already stopped a few trying to get into the hospital. From now through the trial period, you’ll have the full protection of US Marshals 24/7, but we would like you to go into witness protection afterward. There are thousands who still practically worship Schütze, and now that Schütze's been given the injection, and the man who tried to hurt you because of it is in custody...”

“I’d never be safe again…” you whispered, your eyes closing as a soft sigh left your lungs and a few tears fell from your eyes. 

“Wait, wait, wait, you wanna put her into WitSec?” Hotch asked sharply, his hands going to his hips in a stern manner as he loomed over the agent. 

“Agent Hotchner, I know that you have your reservations about this, and what happened with your ex wife was a total failure on our part, but-”

“But nothing! She-”

“She needs to be protected! End of story, agent!” she said sternly. “There are thousands of people out there, claiming to have these ghost guns that Schütze brought into the country, threatening her life. Trying to get into the hospital! If she isn’t put under the protection of the US Marshal’s office, she is going to die. I’m sorry to be so blunt, but that’s just how it is!”

“I’ll do it,” you told her, making a hush fall over the room.

Did you want to? No. Going into WitSec meant leaving everything behind. It meant leaving your family behind. But it also meant that you had a chance of living. And you couldn’t take that for granted. 

“I’m going with you,” Spencer said immediately after you gave your consent. 

“Woah, woah, woah, Spence! Think about this for a second. You’d be leaving everything you’ve made for yourself behind. What about your mom?”

“She’s immediate family, she’d be able to go into the program too,” he replied. 

The agent cleared her throat once more before saying, “The problem with that, though, Doctor Reid, is that you aren’t immediate family.”

Without missing a beat, Spencer grabbed your hand in between his and said something that completely shocked you. “Marry me. Before the trial’s over. We’ll have it in Rossi’s backyard. One last celebration as a team…as a family before we go. We’ll be legally married before you have to fully enter the program, and-”

“Spence-” you started to say, but were interrupted by him barreling forward with his thoughts. 

“And before you ask, no, this isn’t a rash decision. I’ve had a ring for months. When you had your first scare in Tennessee, I realized that I can’t live without you, so I went with Penelope to pick out a ring for you pretty soon after. Why do you think I freaked out the other day when you were using that step stool to find something in the kitchen cupboard?”

You laughed quietly before saying, “I just thought you were being overprotective again.” Shaking your head and getting back on topic, you couldn’t help the smile on your face as you told him, “But yes, I’ll marry you.”

“Really?!” Spencer asked, tears welling up in his eyes as a wide smile made its way onto his lips. 

“Yes, really,” you told him, leaning in for a quick kiss on his lips that he deepened for a moment before realizing that there were still three other people in the room. 

“Sorry…” he mumbled sheepishly as he sat back in his chair. 

“Well, I guess that settles it then. As long as the two of you are legally married before the court reaches a verdict, Doctor Reid and his mother will go into WitSec as well,” the agent said. “Since your face was on the stream too, you are also getting threats, Doctor Reid, but not to the same extent. There was going to be a separate conversation about that more privately, but…” She stood up and straightened out her blazer before saying, “Congratulations. Just tell the marshals when you plan on having the wedding, and we can get some extra protection for the night.”

“Thank you,” you and Spencer replied in unison as she and the bureau agent turned to leave the room. 

When the door closed once more, Spencer looked over and said, “Hotch, I’m sorry, I-”

Hotch put his hand up to stop Spencer, telling him, “Don’t be sorry. Agent Monroe was right. I should be apologizing for how I acted. It was selfish to project my past onto others. Especially when it comes to something like this.” A smile started to make its way onto his lips as he said, “Now, it’ll be hard to find replacements for the likes of you two, but I’m happy to see you engaged. It’s a hard job to keep a stable marriage in, so I’m glad that you two will get the chance to make things work. You deserve it.”

“Thank you,” you whispered, a smile on your lips, but mixed emotions running rampant through your mind. Happiness prevailed though, and you couldn’t help the giddy feeling you got at the thought of being married to Spencer. 

a/n: well that was a wild ride, now wasn't it? Spencer and Reader get to get married, but at the cost of losing their identities because of psychopaths who worship Schütze. the angst in this one was real, but so was the fluff when it was there! stay tuned for the fourth (and final) part of what's turned into a mini series! i'm gonna be so honest, i don't know when i'll have time to write it, but just know that it will happen!

also little disclaimer obviously all of this is made up. if there is a real person who goes by Schütze and runs a gun smuggling gang, that's a whole ass coincidence lmao

taglist: @reidmarieprentiss @i-live-in-spite @readingandbaking

dividers by: @bernardsbendystraws

[rebelliousstories]

Spencer Reid SFW Alphabet

Relationship: Spencer Reid x Reader

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Request: No by Anon

Warnings: Fluff, Mentions of Cases, Mentions of Alcohol, Brief Angst

Word Count: 3,184

Main Masterlist: Here

Criminal Minds Masterlist: Here

Consider Donating: Here

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

This is really going to depend on how two things: how long you are into your relationship and what season we’re talking about.

Early seasons plus early in the relationship means that he’s going to be a bit more reserved in his affections. Very rarely will he do more than stand near you if you’re in public together. However, early seasons and later in the relationship will grant you hand holding in public, maybe a peck on your cheek if you are lucky.

Now later seasons, I’m talking no earlier than season eight, he’s more alright with PDA. He’ll definitely insist on holding hands, and he absolutely will get upset when you don’t for whatever reason. Spencer is more prone to kissing in public, especially if he’s had a few drinks with the team.

In private though, no matter the season, once he’s comfortable with you, he’s holding you. Reid loves to hold you in his arms, tucked up against him so that he can feel your body heat. Away from prying eyes is when he is less reserved about his affections. He also really loves laying in your arms, so long as you pick a good book to read to him while he lays his head on your chest.

B = Best Friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Reid is a goofy Gubler. We all see how he is with the team, and you can definitely expect more of that. He adores having someone that he can turn to for whatever it is. Whether that is someone to cry with, laugh with, or just spend time in silence with. Also, having someone to geek out with is always appreciated.

I could see you meeting at either a bookstore or comic convention, that is if you’re not in the FBI already. No matter if it’s a bookstore or comic convention, I can definitely see you both reaching for the same thing, and he cracks a joke unintentionally about how you both could just split it.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

You really think this man doesn’t like to cuddle? Oh, no. You’re mistaken. He will insist on cuddles. There is nothing more that he loves, especially when he comes home from a case.

If it’s a normal day, or if you’re upset, he’s the big spoon. Spencer loves to have you facing him so that he can watch you sleep, in the least creepy way possible. Tucking you into him, feeling your body heat, heart beat, and soft breaths escaping your nose; all of that makes him feel better. It helps him know that you’re there with him. You’re not a figment of his imagination.

However, if he’s had a long case, a bad day; Spencer is the little spoon. It’s almost comical how he’s able to curl his body up into such a tiny little ball. But this man is going to need one arm wrapped around him, the other hand in his hair, and you reassuring him that everything is going to be okay. It’s the one time that Reid is the quietest, so feel free to spout on about something random. Listening to someone else ramble is soothing to the number one rambler.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Spencer was a child prodigy; this man cannot cook to save his life. Not unless it was an instant meal that he just had to heat up and eat. So he would be perfectly alright with someone who only knew how to make kraft Mac and cheese. But if you knew how to actually cook, well, you might just be able to make this man eat properly for the first time.

Cleaning, though, he’s got that down pat. He will not, under any circumstance let you do it though. Spencer tells you it’s because he doesn’t want you to get your hands dirty, so he tells you not to clean his apartment even if you live there too. Not because he thinks you can’t, but he’s got his own process and cleaning solutions that the likes to use and he wont change them. Besides, if you’re doing the cooking, he may as well do the cleaning.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

He’s doing it quickly and efficiently, but no matter what, he can’t lie to you. Reid is telling you that this is for your own betterment. But he’s trying to be sensitive to your feelings while still remaining objective. It makes him feel awful, but he does it.

F = Fiancé(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Spencer won’t rush into an engagement, even if he feels it’s time. He’s trying to contain himself and the ring, as he waits for your reaction to when he brings up marriage or children. While he wants to spend the rest of his life with you the second he knows it in his heart, he still needs you to realize it. Especially since he doesn’t pick up on social queues very well still, and occasionally needs a little help from someone like Morgan or Hotch. Cause he is not going to Rossi about that.

There is nothing more that he wants in the world to call you his forever though.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Physically, Spencer is a gentle giant. His hands are always soft somehow, and he touched you like you’re made of glass half the time. Feather-light touches that will trace random shapes on your skin. He loves to nuzzle his face into your neck and just stay there. The other half is spent tackling you into bear hugs because he hasn’t seen you in a week as he has been on the other side of the country. When he decides that he is getting affection, there is nothing stopping him.

Emotionally, Reid is sensitive but not in the way that you would think. He’s not the type to outright say how he’s feeling on account of his job. But if you prompt him, and get him into a safe state of mind, he’ll mention things casually. It’s especially weird though when he mentions something traumatic in the same way that someone talks about the weather. But with you he’s always there to lend an ear. Just be sure to tell him if you want a solution or to vent, because he needs a second to restructure his brain.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Ugh… a hug from Spencer is something that has the power to change your entire day. He adores hugs. They can mean so many things, and each one is alright with him. If you live with him, he’s getting one right before he leaves, and the second you are both home. He’ll squeeze you extra tight if he comes back for his go bag and you’re there in the apartment.

Early season Reid, when he’s still a little noodley, has to wrap you in tight because he doesn’t have the beef to pour what he wants into the hug. Later seasons when he muscles up just a bit are a bit different, because he now has more mass to wrap around you.

I = I Love You (How fast do they say the L-word?)

This man waits, I mean, WAITS, to say it. He’s very slow to trust given his background and job, but once he does, it’s not too much more difficult to worm into that romantic side. Once he knows he does love you, Reid is giving it about two or three months before he finally works up the courage to say it. But once he does, he can’t stop saying it.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

A feeling that he is not too attune to. Spencer is very sure of himself most of the time. Not only does his credentials and just having you by his side help his self-esteem, but he’s also just very sure in your relationship. Reid isn’t too worried about you being tempted most of the time, and certainly not himself.

Yet, when he does, it’s deprecating towards his own self. Sometimes, Spencer is terrified that you are going to realize that he’s not the right man for you; not funny enough, not handsome enough, not cool enough, or something of the sort. The kind of thing that he really only thinks about when his walls have been worn down anyways. But when he does, he retreats into himself, looking a bit like a kicked puppy but refusing to go up to make a fool of himself.

Just come over and fawn over him for a little while, and he’ll be back to your lover boy in a second as he becomes putty in your hands.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Under no circumstances do you need to think about sleepy little kisses when he gets back from a case and you’re already asleep, and he’s exhausted. Don’t think about it.

Now that you’re not thinking about that, Spencer kisses you like he’ll never kiss you again no matter where or when. He’s terrified, because of his job and the nature of it, that you might be taken from him. So he always makes sure that the last thing he says is, “I love you,” and the last thing he does is kiss you fiercely. He does have smaller pecks when he’s just moving about the apartment and you cross paths, but he prefers to kiss you properly. But each time, no matter where he kisses you or where you two are, he’s putting so much love in them.

Other than the lips, Reid loves kissing you on top of his head. Being as tall as he is, it’s very difficult to be taller than him. Which makes this the ideal spot for him. On the other hand, he loves when you kiss his neck and chest. There is just something so intimate about the placement that he can’t get enough of. And it doesn’t help that he flushes the prettiest pink when he’s blushes as you pepper kisses down his bare neck and chest.

L = Little Ones (How are they around children?)

Have you seen him with Henry? Those kids don’t stand a chance with him as their dad. Spencer is getting them involved with all things geeky, nerdy, and studious before they can walk or talk. I’m serious, he’s got a book called, “Baby’s Quantum Physics”. This man is getting them started young. He also learns American Sign Language so that they can communicate with their parents easier before speaking.

He’s also reading them the same books that his mom read to him when he was a child. And while he wants his kids to like the same things he does, he also respects them if they have other interests, like sports. While he can’t really participate, he’ll read about all about it and gladly talk history with them.

Make him a girl dad, and he will gladly introduce positive female role models into his daughter’s life, like Marilyn Monroe, or Marie Curie. Oh, and he doesn’t complain about tea parties, princess dress up, makeovers, or hair days. And yes, before you ask, Spencer is learning how to do all sorts of hairstyles for his daughter.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

This honestly depends.

If he’s home, and doesn’t have work that day, everything is slow. The fastest thing he does that morning is making coffee for the both of you. He leaves you in bed, makes the delicious nectar of the gods, and puts it on a tray to bring back to you. Spencer slips underneath the covers, and happily helps you sit up to also enjoy your beverage; made just the way you like. With no schedule to keep, he just enjoys staying in bed with nothing to do except read and spend time with you.

If he’s got work, he’ll be going fast. Reid loves to sleep in, but that comes at a cost most mornings. In order to get to work, he’s got to time the metro just right. He’ll make a coffee to go, and leave yours in a thermos to keep it at the perfect temperature for when you wake up.

N = Nights (How are nights spent with them?)

Again, we’ve got a few different ways this can play out.

He’s home, without work, it’s a slow evening just like the morning. Making dinner is a team endeavor, with both of you retiring to the couch to binge watch a new docu-series he found, talking about different facts that relate to it and providing an additional point of view. It’s comfy, peaceful, and just lovely.

If he’s home, but he’s had a day at work without leaving for a case, he is usually home right about the time you finish up dinner. By the time he gets changed and is in a much comfier state, the food is ready to go on the coffee table along with drinks and silverware. Spencer tends to be a little bit quieter on these nights, but he still wants to talk about your day with you. Asking about his day is a hit or miss. Sometimes he will talk about his day, the antics in the office or a few details from his short cases. Sometimes, he’ll brush everything off, knowing that he’ll talk to you about it eventually.

But if he’s getting back from a long case, domestic or in another state, he’s quiet. Usually because he’s getting back in the wee hours of the night, bordering on the next morning. His bones are heavy, his heart heavier, but he manages to pull his tie and shoes off before collapsing into bed next to you, not bothering to remove anything else.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Spencer is definitely the type to slowly reveal things about himself. Now, not to say that once he gets comfy with you, he won’t trauma dump occasionally, but in the beginning, he’s very careful. The last thing he wants is for you to get scared off by him or his past. But when he does reveal things, it’s usually in the safety of his apartment once he’s had some food and perhaps a glass of wine. Although the wine is not but once in a blue moon.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

This man is the pinnacle of patience. He gets frustrated easily, don’t mistake it. But he’s not very quick to anger. The only time he’s getting angry is when his family is threatened in some fashion, and that includes you. But his job has taught him that he needs to tamp down on those bouts of anger in order to be the best brainiac he can be.

Q = Quizzes (How much do they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

You’re kidding right? He makes sure to read receipts when you two go out together to make sure that eidetic memory works properly. Reid can remember things by sound alone but he likes to be doubly sure. He makes sure to remember every little thing about you. And if someone asks if you like something? Prepare to get yapped at by this man.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

The first double date he had with Morgan and Savannah with you on his arm. He couldn’t believe how Morgan immediately welcomed you into the fold, Savannah too. Spencer valued Morgan’s opinion so much, so to know that he instantly loved you almost as much as Spencer did… that was enough to know that he had found the one.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Quite protective. I mean he is an FBI agent; this man knows things. He’s got a security alarm set once you move in as a precaution. Reid will hopefully convince you to take a firearms course so that you can conceal carry at least. If not, he’s leaving a gun where you can reach it, just in case.

For him though, Spencer just needs you to be there for him. Emotional security is what he needs in his life. Physical is fine; he carries a gun everywhere, knows how to fight, has been to prison. There is a void though in the emotional department that he desperately needs to be filled.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again; it depends. Spencer never wants to put date nights on nights where he knows that he’s going to be exhausted. He prefers to have time to plan stuff like that. Anniversaries would have to take into account his job. Usually the first Friday or Saturday after he gets back from a case, if he was gone for it, is the makeup date. Although there is a standing Thursday date night every week that could be for anything. Gifts are carefully selected and maybe made if he’s making you something he’s knitting.

And, come on. Spencer is going to show you he loves you each time you’re together, no matter how mundane the task. Especially in the grocery store. He’s in charge of the list because you will miss something to get that his brain won’t.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

One particularly bad habit is his propensity to belittle himself. If he’s joking that’s different. But, late at night, when he’s feeling vulnerable and scared, that’s when you need to come in and tell him otherwise.

His other bad habit is not eating. The receptionist in the lobby of Quantico has come to know your face and name very quickly. She also knows exactly who to buzz you in for, and why you’re there based off of the heavy sigh that leaves you the second you get inside.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Not terribly, but it wasn’t always like that. In the beginning, he was super worried about how you would respond to how he looked. Spencer was aware that he was not the most conventionally attractive man in the world, his tie was perpetually crooked, and he couldn’t get his hair under control.

But once he started dating you, Reid realized that you didn’t want hm to change the way he looked, which really helped with his self esteem. And having you in his apartment to help straighten out his tie in morning also helped.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

If you were gone, he would be devastated. It didn’t matter if you were dead or just too far, Spencer was hoping that you were right there with him. If you were dead, Reid would mourn you for a long while, and even after he was out of that phase, he’s remembering you through the small things.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

You being of a different culture than American would be a joy for him. He’d love to learn all about your native culture; the food, language, and different cultural practices. Anything to better understand you and your family. Especially if your parent’s first language isn’t English. The first time he meets them, he’s greeting them in their mother tongue, which makes them very, very excited.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Germs, though he does get better. He also can’t stand people who talk or sing loudly during things like movies or musicals. Spencer understands that it’s part of the experience, just don’t do it too loud, ya know?

In a partner, if you shut him down in the middle of his factoid ramble, he gets quiet after. He’s so used to everyone else doing it to him, but not you.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habit of theirs?)

This man sleeps like the dead. He enjoys being able to sleep in, and going to bed early. Sleep is so hard to come by when he’s out on a case so it’s nice when he gets a little extra at home. And Spencer LOVES naps. Give this man a nap, and he’s ready to go for the rest of the day. Coffee and then a nap? Perfection. Coffee plus nap plus cuddles from you? Match made in heaven.

[idstilldancewithu]

I would do anything for this man 😭

i’m on my knees,please let me be his controversial young girlfriend

[babymetaldoll]

Are you mine? - Chapter seventeen: "Hot for the teacher"

Summary: (Y/N) gets what she wants, but not the way she'd like. Linda Barnes tries to  run the BAU her way, but the team is there to fight. Also, (Y/N) might hate certain students drooling over her husband...  Word count: 9.004 Warnings: Cursing, spoilers of Criminal Mind Ep S13 E6, E15 and E16 A/N: I always wondered how would (Y/N) deal with all the girls staring at her husband with heart eyes. Now we know. What do you guys think? 

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Spencer’s point of view

A lot can change in a person in six weeks. In the six weeks we had off, my mother got into her new facility home. She seemed happy there, and we were just a 20-minute ride away, which made me feel better. I wasn’t pushing my mother away to another city or keeping her far from her grandkids. We visited weekly, talked to her daily, and the kids brought her drawings to decorate her room.

Having time to be a family helped me fix my relationship with my wife. We talked and relaxed. We also had the chance to be a couple and resolve our problems. We even did a little trip to Disney. I swear, Raven had never been so excited before.

We also decided to move out of our apartment and started looking for a house. I wasn’t ready to leave the apartment yet, too many memories had been made there, but I knew the process was not going to be quick. Besides, after Cat had spied on us, neither of us felt completely safe living there.

Those six weeks were a gift because though we were all trying to overcome the trauma and pain Mr. Scratch had caused to all of us, it gave us the time to clear our minds. And I knew my wife was having a hard time with our work at the BAU. I could pretend I didn't see it, but it was crystal clear.

Even back then I knew (Y/N) could never be a housewife. Those six weeks were nice at first: being at home, driving our kids to school, coming back home to clean, grocery shopping, reading after lunch, and watching a movie every night. But by week three, she was going a little insane.

- “Cookies are baking, the brownie is cooling off and the clothes are off the dryer.”- she announced as she sat by my side on the couch, where I tried to read. I hummed in response and she grabbed a book as well. But she didn’t last three minutes in silence before she sighed and looked at me.

- “I’m bored.”

- “I know.”- I replied without taking my eyes from my book. (Y/N) moved closer to me on the couch and tried to look at my pages.

- “What are you reading?”- I didn’t reply, instead I moved the book so she could take a better look- “Aristotle. So you are keeping it light.”

- “What do you wanna do before we have to pick up the kids?”

- “I don’t know…”- and she wasn’t lying. She sat there, stared at the ceiling, and didn’t say another word. I finished my page and closed the book.

- “Wanna go out on a date?”

- “Sure”- she replied and didn’t move.

- “Coffee?”

- “Sure…”- she answered, not even listening to the question.

- “Or maybe ice cream.”- I suggested and stared at her.

- “Sure…”- it was like she wasn’t there.

- “Can I eat you out until you’ve come five times?”- I thought that proposal would get her attention.

- “Sure…”- but nothing. No reaction.

- “Ok chipmunk, what is it?”- I wrapped an arm around her and moved her closer to me.

- “I don’t know. I’m just… bored and stressed at the same time.” - she mumbled, almost pouting.

- “Do you miss work?”

- “I miss working, I just don’t know if I miss the BAU.”

I wish I could tell you her reply was a surprise, but it was what I expected. We had long conversations about leaving the FBI, and though we didn’t have a plan, we both knew our service days were counted.

- “Have you thought about what you’d like to do instead of the BAU?”- my question hung in the air for a few seconds before my wife sighed and shook her head.

- “Is it too sad if I tell you there is absolutely nothing? There is a blank space in my head when I think about what I could do.”

- “You mentioned teaching a few times.”

- “I did…”- she paused and moved from my arms to turn and look at me for a moment.- “But I don’t know if that is what I actually want or what I should do. And somehow they feel like two different things.”

- “You don’t have to figure it out right now.”

- “But I feel like I do, we have six weeks off, three remain, and if you ask me, all the cleaning and baking can do so much for my mental health. I need something else.”- I held her hand and kissed it, now both of us staring at each other in silence.- “Shit! The cookies!”- she suddenly jumped and ran to the kitchen. I left the book on the couch and followed her.

My limbic system was responding to that scene: my wife taking cookies out of the oven. It made me feel the primitive need to protect her. To make her happy, to show her how much she meant to me. My wife, the woman who always took care of me and our family. I had to make sure she was happy, at all costs.

- “Wha…”- (Y/N) didn’t have time to finish her question as I grabbed her by the waist and kissed her. She moaned as I deepened the kiss and moved my hands diligently to unzip her pants.

- “Spencer…”

- “I told you I was gonna make you come five times.”- I whispered as I sat her on the counter and pulled down her pants until her bare legs were right in front of my face.

- “I thought you were bragging.”- (Y/N) replied and bit her lower lip playfully

- “I’ll give you something to brag about, Mrs. Reid.”

- “What about coffee and ice cream?”- my wife asked as I pulled her underwear to the side and licked her slowly. Her whole body shook as an instant reaction.

- “I’ll get you an affogato on our way to school.”

(Y/N)’s point of view

The first couple of cases felt odd. Being back in the bullpen was like coming back to school after summer break. I could tell Matt Simmons was excited to be part of the team, and it felt good to be back with the gang. We were helping people, making a difference. That was my mantra. Fuck “Wheels up” to keep me sane, I had to remind myself over and over again people were safer because we did our job.

But it only took a few weeks before I started feeling trapped at the FBI. It was overwhelming because I kept trying to fight that feeling, but sometimes I felt paralyzed with stress and anxiety. I kept feeling there was no way out of that job. That I was doomed to be there until my last day.

It didn’t help to see how Spencer was thrilling with every case. He was back to work like nothing had happened. My husband was right back in his element, while I struggled with a gnawing emptiness.

But I did what I do best under these circumstances: I pretended nothing was bothering me. I focused on enjoying the few things that made me happy as I tried to find something that filled the void at work. Raven had started taking swimming lessons back then, which were very exciting, because she was growing up so fast, and she was so glad to be part of a team and make new friends. I tried to go with her to as many lessons as possible, cheering her on and sending all of our family and friends pictures of my baby.

Until Spencer gave me a reality check.

- “Just because Raven found what makes her happy doesn’t mean you have to live through her. You still need to find something to fill your soul.”

His words hit me like a slap of truth. We were in the middle of the dark in our room, as he held me close to him. My head was on his chest, his arms were around me, and his words hit me harder than the bullet an unsub put in my arm a few years before.

- “Why don’t you sugarcoat it a little?”- I whispered and didn’t even look at him. He kissed the top of my head and sighed.

- “Didn’t we agree we were not to lie to each other?”

- “We did. But you don’t need to be so straightforward. That was painful.”- I murmured that last part, almost hiding my face in his chest.

- “I’m sorry ma cheriê”- my husband caressed my shoulder as I rolled in bed and laid by his side.- “I wasn’t trying to hurt you, I just wanna help.”

- “I know… shit, I don’t wanna be one of those crazy moms, living life through their babies' success and dreams.”

- “You won’t”- Spencer sighed and touched my nose softly with his index, making me feel like a little kid.

- “You just said so.”- I pouted and he smiled, kissing my lips carefully.

- “I did not. I just want you to be happy, chipmunk. And you can pretend all you want, but I know you have been sad these past couple of weeks. Not even Morgan’s visit cheered you up.”

- “He was here to comfort Pen, not me.”

- “Because you have me to comfort you.”- my husband cut me a smile and made a pause before he dropped the bomb.- “Also… I was talking with Blake today, and she said she could help.”

- “You asked her for help?”

- “She actually called you to ask for help, which was a happy coincidence, because I think you are gonna like what she needs.”

- “What is it? A profiler? Or a home baker? We still have some snickerdoodles left by the way.”

- “A professor.”- he explained with a sweet smile.- “Specifically, a linguistic professor teaching an undergraduate class in Georgetown.”

- “And she thought of you?”

- “Of you.”

My heart stopped when I heard Spencer saying those simple two words. Yes, I had thought about teaching, but somehow I had never considered it earnestly. Why? Impostor syndrome? Fear of failure? Self-doubt? All above I guess.

- “What?”- I whispered, thinking I had misheard.

- “Alex needed help to find a teacher for a psycholinguistics class, something that you actually like.”

- “I do.”

- “So she thought of you.”

- “Why didn’t she call me?”

- “She did, but you didn’t pick up ‘co you were putting Vinny to sleep, so I talked to her instead.”

- “Answering my phone calls, Spencer Walter Reid. I don’t know how I feel about it.”- I joked only because I didn’t know how to react to what I had just heard. That was a real job offer in a field I liked.

- “She said she is calling you tomorrow again, so you can pick up and ask all about it.”

Spencer was right, Alex called me the following morning and delivered her proposal in detail. One of her best friends in Georgetown needed help finding a teacher for an undergrad course in psychology, and she thought of me. It was just five hours a week for a semester, so it wouldn’t take much of my BAU time. I just needed to talk to Emily and make my schedule match. That was the hardest part.

I don’t know if Emily knew I was unhappy with the job, but she didn’t hesitate to approve my request. In fact, she suggested Spencer could do a similar thing, and give seminars for young agents at the academy.

- “I could make it work so you two spend more time at home with the kids, and help the team from Quantico”

- “Isn’t it a little selfish?”- I asked. We were alone in Prentiss’ office, which was still Hotch’s office in my head, and that made everything less official and more traumatic for me. Somehow it still felt like we were pretending to be the grownups while he was away.

- “I wouldn’t call it selfish if it helps you focus on work whenever you are on the field.”

Emily added and held her cup of coffee with both hands as she stared at me from the other side of her desk, filled with unfinished paperwork.

- “Oh stop it, Reid. I have known you for what seems like a lifetime. You have been unhappy since Aaron left. So please tell me, what is it? you don’t like me as your Unit Chief?”

- “What the fuck?”- the curses rolled off my tongue before I could actually realize what I was saying.

- “I mean it, you’ve been acting strange for the last couple of months. I understand you and Spencer have been through a lot, but this is clearly work-related.”

- “First of all, how dare you bring this up at work and not at a bar with a drink in our hands!”- I start arguing back.

- “This is work-related, (Y/N), and I am talking to you as your superior, not your friend.”

- “Second of all,”- I continued speaking, ignoring the scowl.- “I love having you here. I wanted you on this team way before Hotch left. You were the one who didn’t want to leave the Interpol.”

- “Then what is it?”- my friend was clearly losing her patience with me.

- “I just… don’t know.”- I simply confessed and didn't say another word. I just sighed and stared at my friend not knowing how to explain what was happening.

- “How can you not know what happens to you?”- it was a simple question, I guess.

- “I don’t know what it is. I thought it was caused by the stress of having Diana home and all the fights that brought to us, but it wasn’t. I thought I could blame Scratch, but he is only partially guilty of what is happening. Just as Cat, or any fucking unsub that I might think of.”

Emily stared at me, knowing better than to push me. I stood up and started pacing around the room. It took me a few minutes to finally say it out loud.

- “Sometimes I don’t know why I am still here.”

- “You are making a difference.”- Emily stood up and walked to me as soon as she heard me. I turned to her and raised an eyebrow.

- “Trust me, I keep telling myself that every day I show up. Every day I miss Raven’s swimming competition or school recital and when I miss any milestone in Vincent’s growth.”- I paused because I was about to start crying and I didn’t want to get emotional at work.- “Each time that even for a split second there is a chance Spencer or I might get hurt, making a difference is the only thing that keeps me here.”

- “(Y/N)…”- Emily hugged me ‘cos tears had started falling from my eyes.- “Why didn’t you tell me anything sooner?”

- “Sooner when? Things have been crazy here and you know it.” - she sighed and nodded as I wiped away the tears from my cheeks.

- “I know, and we haven’t had much time to talk either.”

- “That’s the thing with this job, we let time pass us by ‘cos we are always too busy to stop and analyze what is happening to us…”

Emily nodded as she stared at me, both her hands on my shoulders as she tried to reassure me things were going to be better somehow.

- “Teaching this class is gonna be good for you, Reid. You need to find your own path.”

I wanted to believe her. I was already tired of feeling like I was drifting and wasting my life.

Spencer’s point of view

The first class my wife taught, she was so nervous I wanted to sit at the back of the classroom to make sure she was ok. It didn’t help that that very same day, I had been caught with JJ in a bunker, as we tried to catch an unsub who kidnapped women, convinced them doomsday was coming, and kept them locked underground in a hidden bunker.

We both knew the team was right a few minutes away the second the door locked behind us. But they couldn’t reach us underground. There was no signal. I also knew my wife was not with them, because she was teaching her first class at five, and I had sworn I'd wait for her outside.

If I wasn’t there, as promised, she was going to get very scared… and very mad.

- “I can’t get through”- JJ announced the obvious, staring at her cell phone screen.

- “The doors are airtight and the glass is bomb-blast resistant. Our bullets would just bounce off.”- I explained as I knocked on the window, trying to find a way out. I couldn’t be locked with JJ in a bunker. Not that day, not ever.

- “Ok, uh, Garcia told everyone we were heading down here, so… wait, did you say airtight?”- I kept pacing around the room when Jennifer realized what I had just said. Meanwhile, I had already discarded eleven plans to get out of that space. - “Are we gonna run out of air?”

- “No, high carbon dioxide levels are gonna kill us before low oxygen levels do.”- I explained and tried to focus on another plan.

- “What about the keypad, Spence?”

- “On a zero to 9 keypad, assuming a 4-digit code, there are 10,000 possible combinations. If you figure 5 seconds to input each combination, that’ll be 13.89 hours and that is not even accounting finger fatigue.”

- “Right. So, even if we did try, after too many failed attempts, we would probably be locked in here anyway.”

- “(Y/N) is gonna kill me.”- I whispered and sighed, closing my eyes for a second.

- “Why?”

- “I promised I’d be there after her first class.”

- “I’m sure she’ll understand. She knows how this job is.”- JJ didn’t understand my wife’s relationship with the job at that minute, and I couldn’t blame her. (Y/N) didn’t want to share much about her personal crisis with the team. Only Prentiss and Garcia knew how she actually felt. And they were as supportive and understanding as I knew they would be.

- “Yeah, sure.”- I mumbled and kept looking for a way out.

- “Hey, is (Y/N) ok? We haven’t talked much lately. I don’t… I don’t know if she is mad at me or…”

But whatever JJ was about to say, I didn’t pay attention to, because two of the victims appeared at the other side of the glass, holding hostage a woman they claimed was the unsub’s partner. We were lucky enough to be out of that trap quickly, release all the victims, and catch the unsub and his partner. The team was right outside as we made it out of the bunker with the victims, and I was in an SUV in less than ten minutes.

I made it on time, barely. I ran to the classroom door and I was still catching my breath when the door opened and the students started walking out. It was a warm afternoon, the sun was just setting, and as I walked into that room, I found my wife closing her computer, and gathering all her things.

- “Excuse me, professor.”- I said as I walked closer and watched her face light up.

- “It’s Doctor, actually.”- she corrected as my lips curled up in a smile. I just felt so good to see her happy.

- “I’m sorry, Doctor Reid. I’ve always been very interested in learning more about linguistics and I was wondering if I could attend this class…”

- “Oh, I’m so sorry Mr…”

- “It’s Doctor, Doctor Reid.”- I corrected her with a smirk and she just nodded, playing along.

- “Oh I’m sorry, Doctor Reid, but this class is closed.”

- “No… really?”- I finally stood in front of her and placed my hands on her waist as she nodded and smiled back at me.

- “Really.”- her voice dropped an octave, sounding so sexy I started considering that bending her on that desk was a very good idea.

- “Is there a chance I can get a private lesson?”- I asked her and she giggled.

- “Are you really that passionate about linguistics?”

- “You have no idea.”- I whispered, pressing her body closer to mine and kissing her lips. I tried to be sweet and gentle, but I felt a hunger inside me, and I needed to feel my wife.

- “Not many people feel this way about linguistics.”- (Y/N) whispered and smiled as I rubbed my lips against hers and tugged her hair carefully not to hurt her, but hard enough for her to gasp and open her mouth, giving me all access.

- “Maybe I could audit your class…”- and my wife just nodded as I rested my forehead against her, as we tried our best to cool off a little.

- “Excuse… me…”- a student coughed from the door. - “Doctor Reid, I needed to…”

- “Yes, of course. I’m sorry.”- (Y/N) cleared her throat and moved away from me in a second. I smiled and took a step aside. It was so incredible watching her talking with a student, giving him notes from her lecture, talking about what he didn’t get. She was glowing, excited, and in her element. I hadn’t seen her that happy in a very long while.

So I made it my new goal: giving my wife the space to find what she wanted to do professionally, and which classes she wanted to teach. I never liked change before, and I was still struggling with it, but for her, I would do anything. For her, I would embrace change and roll with it. If it was what it took to make her that happy, I would do it gladly.

The first step was to speed up the process of moving from the apartment: I hated it, but I knew it needed to be done. I didn’t want to get out of there, but at the same time, I knew she wasn’t happy living in that apartment anymore. What happened with Cat Adams and Lindsey had affected her to the point of taking the joy from our flat. So we started looking for our own house. It wasn’t a quick process, trust me. It took almost a year to find the right house.

During that time, I started teaching a few seminars in the Academy, as Prentiss had suggested and my wife continued teaching her class in Georgetown. We started spending more time in Washington, which felt incredibly right. It was almost a year since our crisis, since my mother had stayed with us, bringing all the stress and fights, and I was, for once, enjoying life day by day.

Vinny was already two years and eight months old, and he was going through a bedtime crisis. He insisted he wasn’t tired and that he didn’t want to sleep. So every time, we had to come up with the craziest ways to get that kid weary for bed. We would dance, play, run, and tell the longest and most intricate bedtime stories. Most of the time, we struggled to stay away while trying to put him to bed. But somehow, it was the kind of struggle I didn’t mind having in my life. Not after dealing with serial killers.

We had a system and it was working. (Y/N) was a lot happier, and I was facing changes one day at a time. That was until the FBI's Assistant Director of National Security, Linda Barnes, put her eye on the BAU and decided to put us under investigation. She started by suspending Prentiss indefinitely, leaving JJ as temporary Unit Chief. It had been heartbreaking hearing Emily’s voice crack as she apologized for not being able to protect us from Barnes. We knew she meant serious trouble for us. She had dismantled Simmon’s former team, and she had her eye put on us. We knew what she was after: us. She wanted to end the BAu, or at least, end how it worked until that day.

The following day, after Prentiss gave us the news, things got even worse. (Y/N) was teaching a class early in the morning, so she missed the briefing. Which, I’ve always thought was a great thing because she would have snapped way more aggressively than I did when we all realized Barnes had picked the case for the team and planned on going to the field with us.

- “Meet you at the Tarmac.”- she announced as we all stood up from the table and stared at her lost.

- “You are going into the field with us?”- Tara asked her, not hiding her surprise and annoyance.

- “Yes.”- Linda replied coldly.

- “No offense, but you are not a profiler.”- Rossi pointed out, but Barnes didn’t seem to bother.

- “True, but I’ve worked on the field and a fresh set of eyes might be useful.”

She stared at us, probably waiting for any kind of reply, but no one said anything. I had to bite my lips ‘cos I was losing it second by second with her around.

- “I know you think I’m the enemy, but I am not. I can be your greatest advocate if you let me. Now, you’ve had some poor leadership in the past, but I know I can help right the ship.”

It was that last sentence that was the straw that broke the camel's back for me. I was not going to let that woman speak ill of Hotch or Prentiss.

- “No.”- I said as soon as she made a pause. - “You are wrong. Emily Prentiss is not a poor leader. She defined what a BAU chief should be. I am not gonna stand here and let you destroy her career like this. If you are going, I am not.”

And I didn’t even let her reply. I just stormed out of the conference room and walked back to my desk, I gathered my things and walked away from the BAU.

- “Spencer, oh my god. What did you do?”- Prentiss argued as soon as I finished telling my story. I didn't want to bother (Y/N) at work, so I did the only thing I could come up with: visit Emily at her house and try to help her return to the team.

- “I had to.”- that was my only explanation.

- “No, you didn't.”

- “Life's too short to deal with people like Linda Barnes.”- I knew that was something my wife would say, but after so many years together, I think there was a lot of her rubbing on my behavior. And I liked it.

- “Spence…”- Prentiss wanted to keep telling me off, but I wasn’t gonna let her. So I just continued talking

- “I wasn't gonna, you know, go with her and help her dismantle the team.”

Emily stared at me and rearranged her thoughts in silence for a moment. Then, she took a big step and stood in front of me, just next to her kitchen island.

- “Thank you for standing up for me. I appreciate you coming to the house for support, but what you did was reckless.”- and I rolled my eyes at her, as she started lecturing me again. - “The BAU is under the microscope right now, and the last thing you should be doing is giving Barnes more ammunition. You're making her job easier.”

- “Why are you trying to get rid of me?”- I frowned as I noticed she had started walking and moving closer to the front door one more time. She turned to me, looking caught, and pretended not to understand.

- “What?”

- “Ever since I got here, you've been trying to keep me out of…”- I took a look around and started wandering around the place. I wouldn’t usually do that, but Prentiss’ attitude was off.

- “No, I just, uh… no, I wasn't expecting anyone and the place…”

And just like that, I found what she was trying to hide.

- “Spence, stop!”

I jogged to her dining room and found a few boxes. She had started packing her things. Emily Prentiss was getting ready to fly away and leave us behind.

- “It's been less than two days and you're already leaving.”- I turned to face her, disappointed and angry.

- “I'm… I…”

Emily sighed as she tried to find the right way to explain what was going through her mind. Why would she just run away from trouble? That wasn’t like her.

- “Ok, look. Barnes wants somebody to take the fall for what happened in Roswell. I'm willing to be that somebody if it will help stabilize the BAU. You're in good hands with JJ.”

- “There's no guarantee that she won't replace her the minute you're gone.”- I argued immediately, but it wasn’t enough reason for her.

- “I think that if I go away for good, she'll leave you alone.”

- “You can still fight this. We can still fight this!”- but as I spoke those words, I could read on her face how the fire was dying inside of her.

- “Ah… Maybe I don't want to.”- and that answer was just as infuriating as discovering those boxes. Maybe even more.

- “Well, now who's making it easy for Barnes?”- I spat those words with anger as I frowned and stared into her eyes. I wanted her to see my disappointment.

- “You don’t get it, Spence.”- Emily said after a few minutes. She just walked around the apartment and started gathering more things to put in boxes and I sat on her couch, trying to find the right argument to change her mind.- “This is the right decision for me. I need you to support that.”

- “What's your plan? I mean, where are you gonna go?"- she had to be joking if she thought I was going to support her running away.

- “When I left Interpol, they said the door was always open to return. I like London. So…”- I looked at her in silence for a moment, as she kept putting books in boxes, driving me insane.

- “Well, if you really want me to support you, just answer me this one question.”- I finally said, standing up from her couch and looking at her. - “Why is it not ok for me to walk out on the team but it is for you?

- “Because you and I are different.”

- “We're not. And if the situation was reversed, you wouldn't give up on me. And you know what? I happen to know that for a fact because you didn't. When my mother was taken and I was losing my sanity, you did everything in your power to help my family.”

Emily stared at me and sighed. Clearly, I had hit a sensitive issue when I mentioned what happened with my mother.

- “What?”- I asked her as I scowled, confused.

- “Yeah. I did everything. I needed to make sure things worked their best for you, your family, and the team.”

- “And they did, all things considered.”- I replied, knowing nothing bad could come from that case, except the trauma me and my family were working to heal.

- “Including leaving out of the documents your trip to Mexico.”- Prentiss confessed and I wide opened my eyes, surprised.

- “Wh… what?”

- “When you went to Mexico to meet doctor Nadia Ramos, you used your personal passport. You should have used your work-issued one.”- Emily looked at me and held her breath for a second.- “I know you weren’t working, but you should have been briefed before leaving the country. That was a violation of security protocol. And I left it out of the case.” - her eyes watered up as she explained what had happened.

- “But… I didn’t do anything bad in Mexico.”- my voice was a whisper, and my friend nodded.

- “I know, Spence. But as an FBI agent, you are always a target, and you know it. You have to follow protocol before leaving the country. But I crossed a line I swore I never would. Barnes called me out on it. And that's when I realized she was right. I do hold this team above the very laws we are supposed to uphold. You made a mistake, but you didn’t do anything wrong, I did. That's why it's wrong for you to quit. But me, I've lost the privilege to run this team.”

I was speechless as I stared at my friend. I never knew she had done such a thing. I wouldn’t have let her do that. Just to think of all the things that could have gone wrong if I had gone more than that one time to Mexico still haunted me, and staring at my friend paying for a crime like that to keep me on the team made me feel incredibly lucky to have her, and immensely stupid for ruining things like that.

We fell into an awkward silence. I knew she didn’t want to talk, and I knew I was gonna have to push her, but I gave her a moment of quiet and peace as I arranged the facts in my head to convince her to stay. I wasn’t going to give up that easily.

- “Thank you.”- I whispered as I grabbed some books and files and put them in random boxes, as I pretended I was gonna help her move.

- “What?”

- “Thank you for covering for me.”

- “You're welcome.”- my friend looked at me and smiled

- “I'm not done.”- I added and she frowned as I continued talking. - “Thank you, but I didn't ask you to. Who knows? Maybe the bureau would have understood why I did it.”

- “Maybe. Now we'll never know.”- Emily replied and continued packing nonchalantly.

- “And that's exactly my point. You know, sometimes it's painful when you look back at your life and you realize how little choice you had in it. Right?”

Em paused her packing and looked at me with curiosity and some frustration.

- “Spence, if there's something you want to say, just say it.”

- “All I'm saying is that it's a lot like when JJ and Hotch faked your death so that you could escape from Ian Doyle.”- I knew I was hitting a nerve by bringing him into the conversation, but I needed her to see my point.- “You didn't have any choice in the matter, but it's what they had to do. They fought just as hard to save your life as you did to save mine. It's what we do."

- “It's… not like this."

- “It is. Do you want proof? Here are some examples. Michael Lee Peterson, Chad Higgins, Kathy and Jessica Evanson, Gloria Barker, and Declan Doyle. These are men, women, and children you've saved at the BAU, personally.”

- “But that's our job. Yours, mine, that's what we do. We save lives.”

- “And here are eight more that need it now. David Rossi, Jennifer Jareau, Penelope Garcia, Luke Alvez, Matt Simmons, Tara Lewis… (Y/N) Reid and Spencer Reid.”

- “Stop.”

- “I don't think you understand. After Hotch left, the team could have imploded. It didn't because you were there. You were there to keep us together. We don't always have a choice in what happens to us, but you know what? Sometimes we do. And right now…”

I choked up because tears were threatening to roll down my cheeks, and I couldn’t speak, feeling my throat closing with emotion.

- “I'm just asking you to make the choice to stay and fight for us. You know, fight for the team. That's what we do. We fight for each other.”

Emily opened her mouth to argue, but she just shook her head and chuckled, tearing up.

- “Ok.”- that was all she said and I immediately stood up to hug her.

- “Let's call the team and get back to work. (Y/N) should be out of classes by now.”

- “I'm suspended.”- Emily announced, like that could ever stop us.

- “Well, I'm not. If you just so happen to hear what I say, then so be it.”

- “That rebel attitude is very (Y/N) of you, Spence.”

- “I know”- and I smiled proudly.

But, by the end of the day, Linda Barnes had gone behind the team and got the primary suspect dead. The team had solved the case, but someone had died. Rossi called us and invited us all for drinks. (Y/N) had joined us in Emily's apartment as soon as her class was over and I had updated her with everything that had happened that day.

- “I am out two mornings a week and I miss all the fun.”- she argued as I finished telling her how I stormed out of the conference room.

However, when we got to the bullpen, to pick up the team, Linda Barnes had saved us one more surprise.

- “Did I hear something about drinks?”- my wife said as she stood in front of Rossi and hugged him and Penelope at the same time.

- “Yes. And I am buying the first round.”- Luke added and (Y/N) raised her hand to give him a high five, but that was the second we all turned and saw Barnes standing there, in the middle of the office. Ruining our moment.

- “Agent Prentiss, Agent Reid, I'm happy to see you.”- her voice was cold as she nodded at us.- “Agent Jareau, I didn't get the opportunity to tell you how much I enjoyed your speech on the jet. But you're wrong that I'm here to shut down the BAU because I'm not. This unit is the crown jewel of behavioral profiling. I couldn't shut it down if I wanted to. But I can help restructure it.”

My blood ran cold as I heard those words. That woman wanted to destroy our department, and she was about to succeed.

- “The director watched the airport video, and he felt, as I did, that we were in public and your validation strategy was failing.”

- “You already met with him?”- JJ asked in shock, we knew she was waiting to talk to him and explain what had happened. But Barnes had, once again, gone behind her back to win.

- “Yes. I've known him for a long time. He answers my calls.”

- “I haven't even had a chance to file my report.”- Jennifer argued, but Barnes dismissed her words like she dismissed everything she didn't care for.

- “He agreed that events should have unfolded quicker, and because they didn't, the suspect died. Now we need to ensure that mistakes, like the ones you made today, never happen again.”

- “Mistakes we made?”- JJ questioned crossing her arms on her chest.

- “That said, Agent Prentiss, your suspension is lifted. You'll be reassigned within the Bureau. Your new post has yet to be determined.”

- “What?”

- “Agent Lewis, you will also be reassigned. Agent Reid, you will be a full-time professor with our exchange program. Agent (Y/L/N), your recent teaching career is taking off, the Bureau will be happy to help you find more classes to teach, along with your husband.”

- “It’s Doctor Reid, and who says that’s something I even want to do?”- my wife questioned her and I held her hand to stop her from talking any further.

- “It’s clear your head is not with the team anymore, agent.”- Barnes replied and didn’t give her time to say a word back.- “Agent Rossi, the FBI deeply appreciates your service, and the director wishes you nothing but the best in your retirement.”

Barnes made a pause and gave Rossi time to argue with her decision, but he didn’t say a word.

- “Agent Simmons, Agent Alvez, you will remain here at the BAU. Garcia, your loyalty to the team is appreciated, but it feels like a fresh start in a different department would be best.”

- “Fresh start? I don't want a fresh start. I need… I need to be here.”- Garcia was already crying as she spoke, but Barnes didn’t even answer her plea.

- “I'm fired, aren't I?”- JJ asked coldly.

- “No. You're the conditional unit chief of the BAU. Congratulations.”- Barnes’ words kept getting colder and colder as she spoke. She was, in fact, enjoying her revenge.

- “There's no such thing.”- Jennifer argued.

- “You're right. There wasn't. But I was able with the director's approval to create a new position just for you. I won't be going into the field with you anymore, but you will run every decision past me, big and small, before you act.”

Linda Barnes stared at us. None of us was able to say a word. We were shocked by her power and the promptness of her actions. She didn’t even give us time to fight back.

- “Good night.”- she cut us one evil smile and walked out of the bullpen.

- “This can't be the end. Can it?”- Garcia asked us, and we didn’t really know how to reply to that. So we stayed in silence, stunned.

(Y/N)’s point of view

Two weeks after Barnes decided to “reassign” most of the BAU members, we were all going insane and I was ready for revenge. One thing is wanting out of the team ‘cos I want to do what I love, and another thing is having some bureaucratic asshole telling me what to do, when to do it, and how.

I hated that bitch.

Do you wanna know what else I hated during those two weeks? All the students that were falling for my husband at the academy. Linda Barnes wasn’t joking when she said she was gonna help me get more classes to teach along with Spencer. She got me a whole linguistic course for young cadets at the academy. And the fact the course’s teacher was me, Doctor Reid, caused a lot of confusion among the female students.

- “Excuse me.”- one of them raised her hand during class.- “I was told this class was taught by Doctor Reid.”

- “Yes, that’s me.”- I explained with an innocent smile, not knowing what was about to happen.

- “As in… doctor Spencer Reid?”- she asked, confused.

- “Oh no, sorry. That’s my husband. It’s a common mistake, we both have PhDs. ”

- “He is… your husband? Spencer is married?”- I could see on her face ‘cos her heart was breaking.

- “Yes, been married for almost nine years now. I don’t know how that could be relevant for the class, but…”- I paused and noticed a few more girls in the auditorium were shocked.- “Anyone else took this class thinking it was my husband’s?”

Eleven more girls raised their hands.

- “You can leave if you want.”- I simply answered and tried not to shoot daggers at any of them. Frank always says I do that when I am mad. Spencer agrees, which makes it even more believable.

Two weeks and life was making me feel like I hadn’t been grateful for my job. Don’t get me wrong, I loved teaching, but there was something incredibly wrong about the way Barnes had pushed us away from the BAU. Garcia was in Cyber Crimes and she was going insane. Prentiss was with the OPR, hating every second of it, especially her teammate, a guy called James Odenkirk, who kept getting on her nerves. JJ kept Spencer informed about the BAU and the lack of cases the team had. Barnes kept JJ, Simmons, and Alvez on the bench, not authorizing any case work until they got one that would- and I quote - “Make the FBI look good.”

It was like she was trying to be hated. And succeeding.

When Prentiss called and invited me over for a ladies' night with Tara, I was in before I could even reply. I texted Spencer and asked if he could stay with the kid for a while. That was the only good side of that whole deal, being there with our babies every day. You could see how they loved having us there for bedtime stories, driving them to school, and cuddling.

- “Who knew there were so many dysfunctional partners in the Bureau?”- Tara chuckled as she told us her experience as a therapist for FBI partners in crisis. We stood on Emily’s balcony, holding a glass of red, trying to make sense of what was happening.

- “I'm learning the hard way. I had three stakeouts with Odenkirk last week.”

- “He sounds like such a charming bud.”- I teased and Emily rolled her eyes

- “Oh yeah, we know how much you love hanging out with him.”- Tara added as we both chuckled, like kids.

- “And it's one thing to be out in the field with him, but sitting with him in a car for hours on end. He smells like dirty tighty whities dipped in sweat.”- Emily’s description actually made him look worse word by word.

- “Gross!!”- I replied, disguised.

- “Barnes really knew how to punish you.”- Tara added with a short smile.- “I mean, sticking you with him. A not-so-subtle reference to what happens to agents who transgress.”

- “And there is no dirt on Barnes in the OPR database. She is squeaky clean.”- we both turned to Emily after her confession, shocked.

- “You pulled her file?”- Tara asked and sipped her wine.

- “I thought maybe we'd get lucky.”- Emily replied trying to look innocent. Which she wasn't at all.

- “I’m guessing that bitch knows how to hide her dirty laundry.”- I finished my glass and rested my elbow on the edge of Emily’s balcony. My friends stood by my side, mimicking my movement.

- “So what now?”- Tara asked

- “Refill?”- I replied and moved my empty glass. Em grabbed the bottle and filled our glasses, as she spoke.

- “I don't know what our next move is. I’m sorry girls.”

- “Well, we have got to think of something. I do not know how much more of this assignment I can take.”- Tara mumbled and I agreed.

- “Eleven students left my class today ‘cos they thought it was Spencer’s.”- I announced and kept my eyes on the horizon as I spoke.- “Eleven. That was half of my audience.”

- “What are you talking about? Why would they…”

- “Because I have a hot husband, Tara! I knew that, but I never thought these stupid students would drool so shamelessly for him! You should have seen their faces when I told them I am his wife.”

- “You told them? Why?”- Emily asked, nearly laughing at my face.

- “Because one of those brats interrupted my class asking if there was any kind of mistake, ‘cos she was expecting Dr. Reid.”- I explained and closed my eyes, mortified.

- “They interrupted you? To ask for Spencer?”- Tara was shocked.

- “Apparently my husband is the current eye candy of the department. His classes are full, but most of the attendees are auditing, just to look at him and drool.”- I finally confessed to someone what had been tormenting me that week.

- “Does he know? What has he said about it?”

- “He has no idea!”- I argued and took another sip of wine.- “He is just so happy people are interested in his classes, I don’t have the heart to tell him.”

- “Then don’t.”- Emily suggested. - “The kid is enjoying teaching, sometimes I feel that’s what he was born to do. I wouldn’t want to spoil it for him just because a bunch of girls are drooling over him. You know they are harmless. Spencer would never cheat on you.”

- “Prentiss has a point, Reid is crazy for you and the kids. He would never jeopardize that for anything in the world.”

I nodded and looked at my friends. Having them around meant the world. I missed working with them and hanging out with them daily.

The next day, I was preparing for my following class when Luke called. He asked us to meet at Prentiss’ for a case. Apparently, JJ didn’t get permission to take a case, and we were going to go behind Barnes’ back and investigate it anyway. Sounded like my team, and my kind of plan.

Spencer showed up in my class and stood by the door as I gathered my things. He didn’t have to say a thing, I knew he knew. He was beaming with excitement. Of course, my husband missed the BAU. He was born to catch unsubs, solve cases, and save the day. He has always been a hero.

- “Thank you, all of you, for coming. I've missed this, us.”- Emily said as the entire gang sat in her living room to investigate a case without formal authorization.

- “We met yesterday for drinks, Em.”- I teased her and she just chuckled.

- “I meant work, Reid. And be serious, before we do this, I need to be sure everyone understands what we're getting into. We have been told not to investigate this case. If we do, we are violating direct orders, and eventually, Barnes will find out. So, if something goes wrong or we don't catch this unsub, she will shut down the BAU and most likely fire all of us. No more reassignments.”

- “You know what?”- JJ said, looking incredibly fed up with anything Barnes’ related- “Even if everything does go right and we do catch our unsub, I mean, the same thing could happen.”

- “Right. Barnes would try to spin it, labeling the BAU a rogue unit that needs to be shut down.”- Simmons knew what he was talking about.

- “Right. So if anyone has doubts, no shame, no judgment.”- Emily said and looked at us, waiting for a reaction. Like any of us would walk away from a case.

- “The BAU started in a room just like this one. If this is how it goes out, so be it.”- Rossi sounded defeated already. So I had to tease him a little, just to make him smile.

- “All right Coronell Cannelloni, no need to get sentimental.”- and he turned to me with a warm grin.

- “We're all in?”- Spencer asked and the entire team nodded. I held his hand, knowing that was something he wanted to do, work with our friends, solve the case, catch the bad guys. And most of all, kick Linda Barnes’ ass.

But, it turned out Prentiss’ warning wasn’t a bluff. Only 24 hours later, JJ was forced to turn over her baggage and her gun, after asking Barnes to open the file of an investigation she had closed a few years before. However, that wasn’t going to stop us. If anything, it made us crack the case, and work harder, even from the shadows.

JJ kept working, and Penelope, from Cyber Crimes, managed to get us the crime scene pictures without getting us caught.

Rossi might have mentioned earlier that day the charm of doing the right thing, even in the wrong way. It felt so fucking good when we got the unsub. I still wish I had been there to look at Barnes’ face when the team caught the psycho and saved the senator’s daughter he had kidnapped. And not only that but Emily told the senator himself that Barnes had fired JJ for trying to solve the case. That woman didn’t stand a chance. She was out before we knew it.

- “I couldn’t wait until morning!!”- Garcia beamed as she walked into the bullpen, holding a box filled with all the toys she keeps on her desk.

- “You weren't the only one.”- JJ said as Luke quickly moved and grabbed Garcia’s box. I stared at that sweet acting coming from a couple that barely seemed to get along, and I realized those two had some angry sex coming their way. If only Luke didn’t have a girlfriend.

- “You look great.”- my husband said to Penelope and she nearly jumped in excitement.

- “I feel great. You guys really did it!”

- “Ohh, I wish I could have been there to see Barnes' face when the senator showed up.”- Tara whined and I joined her immediately.

- “Me too!! Was she fuming from her ears? Did she send daggers from her eyes? I need a full description of the scene, please!”- I begged from my desk as I finished setting the family pictures I had kept there for years.

- “I thought she was gonna melt like the wicked witch of the west when he said Prentiss could hire whoever she wanted.”- Simmons described and we all chuckled at the thought.

- “You think she'll back off for good?”- Luke asked, and we all turned to Prentiss, who stood with Rossi at the top of the stairs outside her office.

- “The director called me.”- she started.- “He said Barnes was told to keep her hands off the BAU.

- “And so, we live to fight another day. Ladies and gentlemen, we're back!”

We all cheered and lifted our cups of coffee. It felt good to be back at the BAU, with my family. Though I wanted to keep teaching at Georgetown, I wasn’t ready to fully leave my friends. Especially knowing how much Spencer loved being there. 

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[littleslaywrites]

head over boots | spencer reid x farmer’s daughter!reader

summary: you bring spencer home to meet your parents and show him around the farm you grew up on

word count: 1.9k

cw: pure fluff, farm shenanigans, city boy spencer

Spencer was neat. He kept his home tidy, banishing germs before they could appear. He was indoorsy, preferring books of the wilderness over the actual thing.

So, naturally, you were nervous to bring him home. You grew up wearing dusty boots in the hot sun to shovel hay into your horses’ troughs. It seemed like your parents called every other week asking when they’d get to meet your boyfriend. You wanted Spencer to meet them, but you worried that he’d hate the farm you had grown up on. 

“I want to see it,” Spencer said one night after you got off the phone with your parents.

“I just don’t want you to hate it. It’s not really your kind of place.”

“If it’s for you, I’ll do it.”

Spencer eventually persuaded you when he had three weeks off of work. While packing, you had to convince him to leave his nice sweaters behind.

“I want to look good when I meet your parents,” he protests when you pull out his oldest pair of jeans from the bottom of the drawers. 

“Even if you do wear something nice, the wind will pick up and cover you in dust before you make it inside.”

You compromise by letting him pack a few nice outfits “just in case”. The two of you also go shopping for a pair of boots, so he won’t get his converse dirty. He even convinces you to let him buy a cowboy hat. You couldn’t resist when you saw how cute he looked when he put it on.

When you finally pull up to your house, your parents are standing on the porch. Spencer is clearly nervous, looking slightly out of place in his button up, old jeans, and brand-new boots. 

“They’ll love you,” you reassure him as you approach the house. You’re briefly stopped by a goat that trots in front of you, causing Spencer to tentatively step around it. His avoidance is futile, as it walks up and begins to chew on his pantleg anyway. You call for him to keep walking, and he hops away until the goat leaves him alone. 

“I see you’ve already met one of the livestock,” your dad calls out as you walk up the steps to the porch. 

Your parents introduce themselves, and Spencer's nervousness slowly dissipates as they invite him inside and offer him something to drink. You can tell he’s growing on them with every word he speaks.

His trial isn’t over, though. “Would you mind feeding the chickens and cleaning their coop?” your mom asks the two of you as she starts to prepare dinner.

“I love cleaning,” Spencer says a little too enthusiastically. You giggle at this, knowing the type of cleaning you’re about to do is nothing like Spencer has done before. 

You make your way to the back of the house, Spencer trailing behind you. When you pick up the bag of feed, he insists on carrying it for you. “It’s heavy,” he remarks once it’s up on his shoulder. You only give him a hum as a reply. 

Opening the coop releases a deluge of chickens that weave in and out of your legs. Spencer squeals, trying to get up on his toes to avoid their small feet.

“Are you afraid of the chickens?”

“No,” he indignantly replies. “They were coming straight for me.”

“Will you go get us some gloves and masks from that shed over there?” 

You throw some feed around as he digs through the shed. Retrieving a new bag of bedding, you watch him pull the gloves over his hands, still keeping a good distance from the chickens. 

When you meet him back at the coop with the bag and a broom in hand, he’s looking even more awkward than usual, hands held away from his sides.

“You don’t have to help if you don’t want to,” you say, noticing his discomfort.

“I can do it,” he says, taking a minuscule step toward the flock.

“Then bring over that hose.”

You make work of the coop, using the broom to sweep out all the bedding. After about a minute, you call out to Spencer. “What’s taking you so long?”

“Nothing,” he mutters.

Turning around, you met with the sight of him hobbling towards you, dragging the hose between his legs.

“What on earth are you doing?”

He drops it, arms raised in a shrug to show his exasperation. 

“I’ll do it,” you say, approaching him. “Finish sweeping the bedding out.”

He reluctantly picks up the broom, just slightly less awkward than he was with the hose. 

When everything is out of the coop, you turn on the hose, spraying the insides with water. Spencer jogs backwards to avoid the splash, but trips on the now discarded broom and falls right into a group of chickens. They go running every which way, bawking at the intruder.

“Spencer–” You turn back, forgetting you have the hose and dampening his shirt. 

“Ah!” 

You drop the hose and walk towards where he’s splayed in the dirt. “Are you alright?”

“You sprayed me.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” He doesn’t move to get up. “Are you gonna lay there all day?”

“Maybe.”

You reach a hand out, and he grabs it to stand up. He turns around and you brush as much dirt off his back as you can. 

You go back to hosing down the coop, Spencer keeping a good distance from you. Letting it air dry, the two of you sit on the swing on your back porch.

“This is interesting,” Spencer remarks, foot planted on the ground to rock you back and forth.

“I warned you.” 

“I didn’t say it was bad.” He takes hold of your hand, gloves now laying beside him.

“You don’t have to say it for me to know.” You look at his shirt, slowly drying in the sun. You’re sure he’s dying inside, feeling damp and dusty.

“I can put up with it,” he squeezes your hand, “if it’s for you.”

You smile. He always knows what to say to make you blush. Reluctantly rising, you pull him back to the coop. “We just have to put the new bedding in, then we're done.”

Putting your gloves back on, he tears open the bag as you dump it in. You spread it around, and step back to show Spencer your work. 

“Looks good,” he says, clearly not knowing whether it’s good or bad.

“I had a terrific farmhand.”

Your mom is soon calling you in for dinner. Spencer discusses recipes with your mom and the history of the valley with your dad. You smile to yourself as you see how perfectly he fits into your home.

After dinner, you lay on the dock of the lake at the edge of the property. The stars are clear, more visible than they ever are from your apartment in the city. The wind blows the water around, a subtle sound mixing with the words Spencer whispers in your ear. 

“See that one?” He’s pointing up to a star above you. “You can tell it’s hotter because of the blue color.”

You’re listening, as you always want to hear his ramblings, but only minimally. You’re distracted by the way his hair tousled by the wind, the reflection of the moon in his eyes.

“Do you want to ride the horses tomorrow?” you ask quietly. Nobody can hear you out here. You learned that during your teenage years. Yet, you still whisper. Your words are for Spencer’s ears only. Not even the fish get to know what you exchange. 

“As long as I can stay dry.” 

You sigh, knowing you’ll never live down the incident with the hose. “We have to get those boots dirty so people don’t think you’re a city boy.”

“I like your parents,” he interjects.

“I’m glad. I’m really glad.”

“But next time they should come visit us.”

“Farm life not for you?”

“Only for the week. Then I’ll be ready to get back to the city.”

He really looks beautiful in the moonlight. You’re grateful for him, as you’re more than aware of how far out of his comfort zone he is. He’s never judged you for your upbringing, even if it was vastly different than the daughters of diplomats that populated D.C. and were available for him to pick from. Instead, he was always interested in your past life.

Even if he didn’t enjoy the whole farm thing, Spencer liked seeing your home. He got to see the setting of all the memories you’d told him about. He could put up with the animals if it meant understanding you deeper. He has to admit that he enjoys the peace of the farm. In the middle of nowhere, there are no honking cars or noisy neighbors to cut into the tranquility.

The night settles around you two, and Spencer rubs his thumb along the curves of your fingers. The night is pleasant, and the warmth of your bodies beside each other keeps the cool breeze from chilling you.

“You know,” Spencer interrupts the silence, “I think I could get used to this. Not the chickens or the goats, but... being here with you. I could get used to that.”

“It means a lot. That you’re sharing it with me for a while.” 

“I think your parents would enjoy seeing our apartment in the city. But I’d still come. Anytime you want me here, you know I’ll come.”

“I don’t think you’ll ever be a true country boy, but that’s okay.” You pause to turn your head toward him. “I love that you try.”

Quiet overtakes you again. A shooting star falls from the sky, the bright light slowly fading as it plummets. You wish for more of these moments. Moments where Spencer is with you, exploring each other's lives. 

Spencer wasn’t perfect for this place, and he probably never would be. However, that’s not what mattered. What mattered was that he was trying, coming here just for you. He wanted to understand you, and maybe, in doing that, he might be finding something of himself in the place you grew up.

He could use the peace, you decide. He’s always in the midst of action, mind racing as he works against the clock to save lives. Here, he could take some time to do nothing, to lay by the lake under the blanket of stars.

Spencer feels the same way, but to him, it’s not about the quiet of the farm, but rather the company. He could be anywhere in the world, and would feel the same serenity as he did here, as long as you were with him. And, with all the chickens locked in their coop and the other animals asleep in their pens, he began to enjoy the scenery. Looking at you on the dock, he could almost see a younger version of you fantasizing about the life you had now.

The farm is a place of your past. At 18, you were desperate to get out, dreaming of something beyond the isolated farmhouse at the edge of a dull town. With the addition of Spencer, though, it feels like the future. Not necessarily here, but somewhere that the two of you can lay side by side, getting to know the deepest parts of your souls. 

You were still dreaming on your dock, just this time, you’re not thinking of escaping. Instead, you’re picturing more moments just like this, filled with the peace of the stars above you and the comfort of Spencer’s hand in yours.

author's note: hey everyone! i have no ideas so lmk if any of you might be interested in a second part of this and pls send requests (open for any cm characters). also life update the semester started wednesday and we have a snow day tomorrow yippee!