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writersblockedx · 1 year ago

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A Rekindled Kind of Love

Pairing - Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader Summary - Spencer and Y/n hadn't talked since the Summer before college and then he sees her name as the only survivor in their latest serial killer case. Warning - violence, drinking Words - 3.6K

A/n - It's be a while! I've had a surge of inspiration lately since becoming a little obsessed with character ai lol and thought to write this one into a little one-shot.

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Spencer was lying if he ever called any day at the BAU normal. Between serial killers, sadists, and everything else in between, the boy had a blurred definition of normal. So, he expected anything - or so he thought. When he entered the meeting room that morning, he hadn't expected the name of Y/N Y/L/N to pop up.

"We've got three victims and, weirdly, one survivor." Garcia started to explain, clicking through the victim's dead bodies, the woman squirming at just a glance of the photos. "Whoever this sicko is, he's going after journalists. His latest victim, Y/n Y/l/n, was actually able to get away before he had a chance to kill her."

Spencer stopped. His gaze snapped up as Garcia clicked once more and he caught sight of the girl he once knew. Only now was she older, and her expression was stern. The unsub had left her features tainted, early bruises and several cuts littering over her. "She's pretty distraught says doctors, but she's alive and well."

He couldn't stop staring at her, memories of high school, of that last summer, of their blissfully ignorant friendship fueling his feelings. This was not normal. None of what he felt was normal - not for him away. "He stabs them?" Emily observed, all of the team had yet to clock onto the haze Spencer had suddenly found himself in.

Garcia hummed, "Yep, as many times as it takes before they...you know...die."

"He's aggressive, he's got no remorse for these victims," JJ spoke, glancing between her file at the screen in front of her.

"Not only are they all journalists, but they're female journalists too." Rossi added. "There's got to be some reason for that too."

Hotch nodded, "Either way, we should take Y/n into our care. She's the first to get away, I doubt he's happy about that-"

The shaggy-haired boy couldn't seem to take it. The way Y/n had gotten herself mixed in like she was any other victim, like she wasn't once the most important person in Spencer's life. "Excuse me," The boy stood abruptly, not giving any reasoning to the team before he practically ran out, gasping for breath.

The team were left with nothing. Their expressions moulding into ones of confusion, and puzzlement, "What's up with him?" Morgan was the first to question. But it was only met with the same uncertain expressions and a shrug from Hotch.

Morgan took it upon himself to stand, following Spencer out into the adjacent hallway where Spencer was panic pacing. A hand swooped through his hair as his thoughts raced. "Hey, kid, slow down," Morgan soothed. He hadn't realised the arrival of Derek until he spoke. Spencer turned, swallowing the lump which had since grown in his throat. "The hells going on with you?"

He took a breath. He evened his lungs and took a moment before confiding, "I- erm- I know her, Y/n Y/l/n, the survivor." He explained and that was enough for Morgan to understand. "Well, I suppose I knew her, we lost contact when we went to college, but we had been friends."

Morgan gazed back into the meeting room, "Reid, it's okay. She's okay, you know? She survived."

His head shook, "It doesn't matter. You heard Hotch, she's still a target." She wasn't safe and that fact was only nagging at Spencer.

"Alright, alright, how about I talk to Hotch? We'll go to the hospital, you make sure she's okay yourself?" Reid had barely agreed before Morgan walked back into that meeting room.

Of course, he wanted to make sure she was okay. But that also meant seeing her, after all these years. Spencer didn't know what had changed - if anything had. And he didn't know which option was scarier. Either way, he soon found himself at the hospital, waiting at the reception desk as a doctor went to find her.

His feet were tapping, his nerves obvious to Morgan. "Reid, calm down, she's gonna be alright," He said, but no words from Morgan or a doctor was going to help. He needed to see her.

"It's not just that I'm worried about." What if everything had changed? What if nothing had? What if-

He turned and found his eyes on her. She still had that same look. That same smile, the same soft gaze, the same ease about her that Spencer craved. But this was the very moment he feared.

She wandered up to him, quickening her pace as much as she was able to considering her state. "Spencer," She said his name like a sigh of relief. Before he realised it, her arms were wrapped around his neck, melting into his touch as if no time had passed.

"Hi," He breathed into her ear; she was safe. The hug didn't last long enough. How could it? They had 12 years of missed hugs.

"I can't believe you're here, the doctor said a profiler and then said it was Doctor Reid and I-" She trailed on, "I don't know why I was so surprised. Of course, you made it big."

Spencer shrugged, "I wouldn't call this big." The boy became sheepish, almost flushed and Derek Morgan had certainly taken notice. "I'm sorry I stopped calling and I should have-"

"Oh, Spence, save it," She chuckled lightly, "I could have picked up that phone just as well as you had. I just wish we could have met under different circumstances."

He nodded, "Yeah, well about that," Spencer turned to bring Derek into the conversation, "This is Agent Morgan, he's erm gonna help."

Morgan sent his usual cheeky smirk as he did with any pretty lady, "It's good to meet you, sweetheart. Glad to hear you're feeling better too."

Spencer hadn't expected anything less from the man. "Look, I don't know if the doctor explained it to you, but we're under the belief that this unsub may still be targeting you."

"Unsub?" She reiterated.

"The killer that went after you." Morgan answered, "Unknown subject, unsub for short."

"We erm- we have to take you in, make sure you're safe kind of thing," Spencer explained, fidgeting with his fingers as she glanced between them and the girl in front of her.

Her pupils grew worrisome, "You think I'm still in danger?"

Spencer hated that word. Even the thought of Y/n in danger made his spine shiver. "You're the first to get away, we erm- we don't think he'll be very happy about it. He could lash out, many unsubs, new unsubs especially, a victim getting away could be like a double stressor, he could be on a rampage, he could be doing nothing but think about getting to you." He realised he was rambling and his words were only worrying the girl more, "Sorry, I just, I want to make sure you're safe."

But Y/n understood, "It's alright, Spence. I'll go grab my things."

With that, a rush filled the girl as she turned her back on the two agents, wandering back into the hospital room she had come from. Spencer's eyes hadn't left from where her figure was once standing. This was personal for him - even if he hadn't seen the girl for years now. "She's not just someone from high school, is she?" Morgan realised as he observed Spencer.

He turned to him as if he had just left the trail of thoughts in his mind, "Hm?" He turned back to look at Morgan.

His response had only made Morgan smile, "Y/n, she seems more to you than that."

"It was..." The boy thought back to it, to that Summer, he didn't know how else to describe it, what they had, her. "Complicated."

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

12 Years Prior, Las Vegas

Y/n always had something Spener didn't: Popularity. Well, in a way. Spencer was cast away from many of his peers. A social reject. While, Y/n was a social butterfly of sorts. She took to a crowd with ease. The type of girl that could make friends with anyone.

The boy had certainly hit the jackpot when he was assigned to tutor her. Over the course of several sessions, they had bonded over literature, future college plans and, surprisingly, Y/n's distaste to certain 'jocks' - as the social hierarchy liked to describe them as.

She was the only reason Spencer turned up to the end of year house party. Crowds weren't his thing, drinking neither. But she...she was worth it.

"Spencer!" The girl gleamed as he wandered into the house.

He didn't belong at all. His shoulders were stiff, his glasses at the edge of his nose. But, despite such, Y/n still took him into a longing hug. "H- Hi." He greeted, his eyes flickering all over the place. From the demolished kitchen to the living room where drunken teens were dancing on top of couches and coffee tables.

Her brow raised, "Come on, we'll get you a drink." Her hand slipped into his, bringing the boy back to his attention: her. "You do drink right?" She checked as she guided him towards said demolished kitchen.

"Erm, not a heavy drinker but, sure I can have one."

"You sure?" She spoke ever so softly, "You know you don't have to."

"Just one." He offered her a smile.

She grasped a few bottles: vodka, rum, tequila. "Pick your poison."

Spencer had simply shrugged, a chuckle at the tip of his tongue, "I'll have whatever you're having."

"Rum it is!"

She poured the two the same drink - almost half liquor, half mixer. Spencer coughed when he swallowed, causing the girl to giggle, "Too much?"

But Spencer simply shook his head, "Just perfect," He almost joked as he leaned onto the kitchen counter next to the girl, "I almost didn't come," He admitted.

"I don't blame you," He gazed down at her answer, his expression urging her to add some context. "Ashley James puked up after two drinks, Kacy and Liam broke up, now Liam's making out with Polly. It's just...a mess." Her eyes rolled. "But then again, what was I expecting?"

Spencer smiled at her. She was good at knowing like everything. While he was filled with facts and statistics, Y/n knew everything about everyone. Within one look, she knew your secrets. Maybe that's why she was so good with people. "We can go somewhere else if you want?" He suggested.

His question brought along an idea for the girl. With her free hand, she took Spencer's and led him out into the back garden. Whoever lived here was almost rich. Well, rich enough for a pool and a pretty big outdoor area. "Come on," Y/n urged him as she pulled the boy towards the edge of the pool.

She slipped her shoes off, sitting down and letting her legs dangle into the fresh water. Spencer watched her for a moment before joining her, the two sipping on their drinks. "Better?" She asked him.

He nodded, "Much."

"At least we've got Summer now, no more being forced to see them assholes." She joked.

Spencer's brows narrowed in thought, "You mean the assholes that you were friends with until you met me?"

"Well you got me there, Spence." She shrugged, "Social survival, that's what I call it. It's not as if there won't be similar people in college. I mean, fucking sororities, semi-pro football leagues, frats?"

"I'm sure you'll fit in amazingly at Princeton." His smile seemed to falter at his own words.

She gazed at the boy who seemed captivated by the slowly swaying water below them, "We'll still call you know, text, just cause we're in different places, doesn't mean anything, Spencer." Y/n attempted to comfort him.

"That's what everyone says but, I don't know." He shook his head, ignoring a thought.

But she noticed it; she noticed everything, "But what?"

He huffed and stared over at her, his eyes pooling in admiration. "You're one of the best things to have happened to me in a long time you know," He offered her a smile, "I couldn't even imagine losing you."

The girl bit her lip. Something was on her mind and Spencer had noticed. He too noticed everything about her. But he didn't ask. Partly, because he didn't have the chance to. Her eyes flickered to his lips. Then to his eyes. And before Spencer could realise, she had leant in, her lips at his. Without even realising, she had changed everything for the boy.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Spencer accompanied the woman towards a private, interview room. He would offer support and comfort but at the same time, he had a job to do. A part of that was questioning. She was the only person to know this unsub. As difficult as it would be for her, he would have to ask them questions.

"Hey," Emily spoke as he entered the room, two coffees in hand: one for Spencer and one for Y/n. "Coffee orders are here," She smiled as she placed them at the table between the two. "I'm Emily, Reid says you're an old friend."

Her eyes flickered to the man before she shook Emily's hand, "Something like that yeah."

"Well, we're here if you need anything, alright?" She said, "You're in good hands here, especially with our Doctor Reid."

With that, Emily left to join the rest of the team who were busy compiling a profile. Which left her and Spencer. This was the part he wasn't looking forward to. "I've erm, I've got to ask you some questions, it'll help us understand this unsub, help us find him." He explained. When she nodded, the boy continued, "I'm going to ask you to close your eyes, alright? And then I'm just going to go through the night you were attacked. Is that okay?"

She swallowed the lump which had grown in her throat, "Yeah," She muttered.

Y/n followed the instructions and let her eyelids close before Spencer started the exercise, "Okay, just go back to that night. You were on 9th Street, correct?"

"Yes."

"It was getting late, but it was summer, think about the air, was it still warm? What sort of things could hear, anything?"

She thought back to it. Y/n had just finished her work week, she was walking home from the Subway. "There's a group of girls on the other side of the road, they're giggling. Drunk, I assume."

"That's good, that's really good." Spencer praised, "Then when did you realise something was off?"

Her brows furrowed and she thought about it, the pit in her stomach growing, "Someone- someone was yelling. A man. I thought he was like bible bashing so I wasn't paying much attention to what he was saying."

"Think." Spencer jumped in, "Listen to him, pick any words, any phrases that stick out to you."

And she did so. Her mind ran through the memory, "Something, something about an agenda, the- the snowflake agenda? It's ruining America it's-" She cut herself off as the memory reached the worst part. "That's when he grabbed me." Her voice quickened, her breaths soon becoming uneven. "He had a knife to my neck- he pulled me to an ally. I- Spencer."

Her hand reached out over the table instinctively, "It's okay," He too had become panicked just seeing her's. "I'm here, it's over, you can open your eyes."

When she finally did, she took one breath. A sigh of relief that she was okay. And then, a single tear dropped from her eyeline. Spencer couldn't take it. He stood and she followed suit, "Come here," He spoke before taking her into a tight hug. "You're safe, I promise."

She pulled away just slightly but never dared to break touch, "The only reason I got away was because I had pepper spray in my bag," She explained.

Spencer thought on that and then an idea came to mind. "Come with me," The boy took a hold of her hand, guiding the girl through the bullpen towards the meeting room where the rest of the team had been.

The round table was scattered with files and papers. Garcia typed away at her laptop while the rest were debriefing. At the entrance of the pair, they glanced up.

Before they could ask any questions, Spencer started rambling, never daring to let go of Y/n's hand. "The unsub was protesting on the street, he's some kind of right-wing enthusiast. He was going on about the left-wing 'agenda', about how it's ruining America." He explained. "Not only that, but Y/n used pepper spray on him."

Like that, they had something, "He would have had to go to the hospital?" JJ thought.

"Or at least bought some kind of medical supplies."

"Yeah, saline wipes or there's a nasal spray that helps the pain." Spencer went on to explain.

From there, Hotch turned to Garcia, "Cross check avid right-wing protesters in the D.C. areas, men with low criminal offences, things like hate crime. Then look at anyone whose been admitted for treatment of pepper spray or has bought any medical supplies to treat it."

Like that, the aggressive typing ensued. The team were all waiting, Y/n still at Spencer's side, anxious for the name of her attacker to be revealed. "I've got it, Tony Jones."

When Hotch stood from his chair, the rest of the team started to follow. "Send us the address, Garcia."

"Already done it, Sir."

Each of the team members stood, one by one walking passed Y/n. That was apart from Garcia who was still glued to her laptop, sending the address to the rest of the team. Spencer was about to turn when Y/n reached for the boy's hand once again. Her eyes filled with nothing but worry. "Do you have to go?"

Her question had made his heart ache. His eyes flickered to Garcia who was already glancing at the two, "I- I probably should but, but Garcia will stay with you." He offered.

Y/n looked back at the extravagant woman who was smiling, "Of course, I've got loads of things I can show you in my office!" She gleamed.

Y/n returned the smile before turning back to Spencer, "You'll be careful, right?"

The boy nodded, "Of course," He replied before taking her in his arms once again. But this time, when he pulled away ever so slightly, it was to place a gentle kiss to her forehead.

And like that, a soft smile, a goodbye, was passed between the two before Spencer turned away to join the rest of the team. She stared out the door of the conference room until Spencer slipped away. From there, she turned, a weak smile given to Garcia as she came to join her at the round table.

The other woman had watched the interaction and, while she wasn't a profiler, she wasn't oblivious to the world of loving. "He really cares about you, doesn't he?" She asked. Though, Garcia already knew the answer.

"I care about him just as much," Even after all this time, a piece of her heart still belonged to Spencer Reid - it always would.

"You're not just an old friend, are you?"

Y/n swallowed, glimmers of that high school Summer filling her brain. "It was, complicated." She described. "We erm, only really had a Summer as..." How could she describe it? "More than friends, I guess. And then we were both shipped off to college. And I mean, we lost contact. As a lot of people do." And 12 years later here she was.

Garcia offered her a smile, "You still love him, don't you?"

The girl giggled but gave a nod, "I don't think I ever stopped."

"Well, if my time with Doctor Reid has taught me anything, the way he is with you, I mean it's like no other." Her hand brushed at her shoulder gently, "I don't think your feeling is one-sided."

That would stick in her head for the next hour. While Spencer and the rest of the team were arresting Tony Jones, Garcia was giving the girl a tour of her office. Everything wonderful and weird. And while she tried her best to pay attention, her mind kept being dragged over to Spencer. If he was safe, if he was coming back...if, once again, everything had changed.

She knew one thing: she would make sure they didn't lose contact this time around.

When the boy finally returned, he practically rushed through the BAU to find her. She was at Garcia's side as they exited her office, "Y/n," He called.

The girl's head snapped to him, her pace quickening as she came to reach him, "Did you?"

He nodded, "He's at the station, don't worry." He assured.

"Oh, good, yeah," She spoke before a sigh fell from her lips. "So, I mean, what happens now? Do I just go home?" The idea of such, while stupid to think so, was almost disappointing. Going home meant she wasn't in Spencer's company any longer. And that wasn't something she wasn't to lose just yet.

But Spencer's reaction was a similar one, "I can walk you home, if you want of course."

Her smile grew, "I'd like that."

"I'll just erm," He gestured to his FBI vest, "I'll only be a second."

And so she watched him leave for barely a minute, coming back in his shirt. He took her hand, led her into the lift and pressed for the ground floor. A moment of silence. A moment of thought. One of which was urgring Y/n on.

She glanced over at the boy, "You know I always think everything happens for a reason." Her nerves suddenly flooded her body as she realised what she was about to admit, "And as much as getting jumped was not fun, I'm glad it brought me back to you, Spencer."

Y/n turned to face him, barely any space between them, "I missed you."

"I missed you too, Spence."

With that, Y/n made the leap. She closed that gap, their lips meeting every so soft, ever so longing. Like they had both been waiting for this moment for 12 years. And when they pulled away, her hands cupping his face and his placed at her waist, it was like they were 18 again. "Promise we'll keep in contact now?" He almost joked.

And she chuckled, "Promise."

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st4rgzer · 1 year ago

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can you do Spencer x fem reader where she doesn't work for the bau but they have been together for like a year and live together and she's really sad that Spencer is gone all the time and always leaves and cancel dates bc of work and it makes her feel unwanted. She tells him this and he gets annoyed and calls her clingy bc he's stressed and then feels so bad and requests a week off work and spends it all with her doing whatever she wants!

CLINGY. (spencer reid)

summary: reader is having a hard time getting the attention and care she needs from her partner, spencer reid.

genre: angst + fluff

cw!: drinking, swearing, feelings of unwontedness

a/n: i went down a slightly different route but i still hope you like it!! tysm for requesting!🫶🏼

you were practically brimming with excitement as you shimmied into a mauve colored silk maxi dress that hugged your figure perfectly. you had your makeup done hours prior and you bought this dress with all the joy in the world. you were giggling in anticipation as the clock ticked closer to 9pm, the hour you and spence had settled on after a week of him canceling and postponing your date. this was a special one. you bought him a beautiful chess set, very valuable. he had had his eyes fixed on it for months, and you bought it for him as a special gift in hopes that he would ease up on you after a few little arguments you had been having over his work. it was just a little rough patch and this date would surely fix everything up back to normal.

time passed as you waited with a glass of wine in your hand for him to get home. the clock struck 11:30 and you started to get worried, he hadn’t answered any of your calls or replied to your texts.

the sound of rattling keys followed by the twist of the doorknob made you jump up. as the door opened, it revealed a very disheveled looking spencer reid, he was in no form ready for a formal dinner.

“spencer” you walked towards him, a prominent look of worry on your face

“what the hell happened? i had to cancel our reservation- i thought you were in trouble! i tried calling you but you gave no signs of life, i was worried sick!” his hands anxiously pushed his hair out of his face as you went on and on.

“can you just- just shut up! okay? stop talking. god you’re suffocating me you are so clingy!” he spoke with annoyance dripping from his words. your mouth fell slightly agape as you processed his words. clingy. he called you clingy, and he told you to shut up. you felt like a fool. the chess set wrapped neatly in purple paper and tied with a black bow that was placed on the kitchen counter, the lipstick stain on the wine glass. you felt like your whole world just fell apart. everything you did was stupid and you felt like a fool, and maybe you were clingy, but you thought that with spencer, you didn’t have to worry about being too much.

you didn’t say a word before turning on your heel and stepping out, running to the bathroom as tears threatened to drop. he tried to reach for you but you were already gone.

he pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, cursing to himself. he wasn’t mad at you, he wasn’t annoyed with you, he could never be annoyed at you. you were everything and more to him and he vowed to himself to never take you for granted, but that was exactly what he had done. and he regretted his words the moment they left his mouth.

he knew it was too early and the wound was too fresh to apologize yet, but it killed him to not go running after you and just hold you against him. his heart ached and broke even more when he saw the gift on the counter. he already knew what it was, of course you bought the chess set he had only mentioned once but yet, you remembered.

his head dropped between his arms as he shut his eyes tightly. his frustration was seeping through him, the anger wasn’t aimed at you, it was aimed at him. he spoke without thinking and wasn’t able to control his own emotions, thus making you feel unwanted, a feeling spencer never thought he would invoke in you.

meanwhile, you sat in the bathtub, knees tucked in and pressed against your chest. you squeezed your eyes tightly as tears fell loosely and at a rapid pace. quiet sobs could be heard in the silent room, leaving room for only your thoughts, a perfect recipe for you to spiral.

three knocks interrupted your crying. you looked up and sniffled, wiping your cheeks with your arm before talking

“what do you want” your voice was broken and fraile, hesitant to your annoyed tone.

“can i come in? please?” his voice was soft and gentle, his tone familiar and welcoming. very different from the harsh reid that presented himself to you earlier.

he could hear you sniffle as you hesitated to respond.

“sure…” your voice was uncertain, but it was enough for him to open up the door softly and enter. he sighed at the sight of you curled up in the bathtub. his eyes wide and puppy like, a look of remorse and lament on his face.

he waveringly stepped closer to you, getting into the tub with you. you shifted and let him maneuver you onto him, back pressed against his chest as he held you tightly. you turned your head and looked up at him with red eyes and mascara running down your cheeks, yet he still thought you were the most beautiful girl in the whole world. he tucked loose strands of your hair behind your ear and stroked your head softly, eyes scanning your features before he found a way to articulate his words.

he cleared his throat before talking, “im sorry. i know you probably hate me right now, and i deserve every bit of anger you have towards me, but i want you to know that im sorry. i never meant those words, hell, i shouldn’t have even opened my damn mouth. im stupid for taking your love for granted, because you deserve so much more than what i’ve been giving you recently. but it isn’t because of you, if im mad at anyone its at myself. i love you more than life itself and you should never settle for 2am phonecalls and postponed dates. that being said, you know that its been because of my work and i cant do anything about that, but i can do something else. i told hotch whats been going on over the phone and he agreed to giving me 3 weeks off of work, i know it’s not much but i promise i’ll spend every minute making everything up to you.”

your bottom lip quivered at his heartfelt apology, and you broke down in tears at his overwhelming care for you. you felt stupid for ever doubting him.

“i love you” you said as your head dropped to his chest, his hand rubbed your back soothingly.

“thank you for the chess set, i love it, and i love you even more” he smiled down at you, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head

“you’re welcome, i love you too” you sniffled, tiredly speaking as your eyes fluttered shut.

he caressed your hair and felt your heartbeat slow down, followed by quiet snores. he laughed quietly. he sat up slowly and managed to pick you up bridal style without waking you up. he propped you onto the bed and changed you into one of his sleep shirts, the ones you liked. he got into bed with you and covered the both of you with the blanket. you moved in your sleep, missing spencers warmth, curling up to his side. spencers arm came behind you and wrapped around you waist, letting you nestle further into his side. he pressed a kiss onto your forhead before clicking the lamp light off and eventually, falling asleep as-well.

taglist: @ilovesadiesink @sp3ncelle @lvtilzs @sunshine-on-marz

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elusivedew · 9 months ago

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💌 | Cubitum eamus ?

✧ synopsis ⤐ it takes you 2 years from the minute you meet spencer to confess how much you like him, and it all happens on a random wednesday night.

✧ contains ⤐ friends to lovers but they both know what's up, s3 spencer who's been through a handful of shit, brief mention of alcohol consumption on two occasions!!suggestive themes but no straight up smut, spencer reid experiences happiness for once, reader is his only hope in life, reader wants him real bad and he knows. My spencer reid debut yay! Title translates to "will you go to bed with me?" w.c ~ 9.2k

Working at the BAU is not an easy job. In fact, Spencer thinks, working at any unit in the FBI is the closest thing you'll ever get to hell on earth. This feeling of agitation and exhaustion seems to aggravate every time he's working on a particularly draining case. Not only does the content of the cases get into his head often, and sometimes into his dreams, but he's also been directly harmed by the criminals they’re chasing. How can you remain completely objective about something when you become a victim too?

Over the few years he's worked in the BAU, he's received more harm than he ever expected. Drug addiction was not something he had in his five-year plan when he first joined the FBI. It's not something anyone who works in law enforcement expects, really.

Needless to say, he's tired. The kind of fatigue that makes you bedridden for days.

He also happens to be alone on a Tuesday night in the middle of June.

The latest case he worked on took a little over two weeks to wrap up, an unsub that likes to take his time and has such a disorganized MO that it was almost impossible to see the patterns. All the physical and mental work completely knocked everyone off their feet, except for him. His colleagues all went home and passed out of exhaustion, and he’s still up.

Spencer can't sleep. He's too busy thinking.

It's something he does a lot, for his job, for himself, for the duration of his whole life. The gears have been turning in his head since his very first word, the minute ‘mama’ was out of his baby mouth, he’d been tasked with the weight of the whole fucking universe. The price of knowing so much from a young age has cost him a lot. And tonight, it specifically costs him his peace, his right to pass out after a long day of work.

And he'd love, more than anything, to have an off button somewhere inside. But because that hasn't been invented yet, and his nervous system feels like it's on fire, he's still up by the time it's 10 pm. It’s not late, objectively, but he’s been home for more than three hours now. He tried a lot of sleep remedies— herbal tea, audiobooks, aroma therapy, hell, even exercising to tire himself out, but all of them failed. And now he's just left with sore muscles and an even more tired brain.

By the time it's 11 pm, he's lying on his couch, feeling like death. His head is pounding with the feeling of an oncoming migraine, and he knows that he’s in for a particularly long night.

That's when his phone rings, and because he’s so alert and so sensitive to stimuli at the moment, he almost kicks it off the coffee table. But he doesn’t do that, because he’s still a little sane despite everything.

Instead, he reaches over and checks the contact name, and his whole face lights up. He feels absolutely ridiculous for not making this call first, because his nervous system is now very much alive— and not in a way that makes him feel like an overheating microwave, no, this is a good thing. And good things don’t happen to him often. He runs his hand through his hair, a nervous habit, and picks up the call.

Suddenly being awake doesn't feel so bad.

“Agent Reid.”

Your voice comes through the phone like a cool breeze of air during the grueling heat of June. He finds himself relaxing a little, releasing tension he didn't know he had in his muscles when he was so distracted just a few minutes before.

“I'm begging you to stop calling me that.”

“Aww, why not? I like feeling like your boss,” you're smiling on the other end, he can hear it, “what's his name again? Aaron?”

He rubs his temple with a smile he can't fight off, “That's agent Hotchner to you.”

You laugh and he feels proud of himself for eliciting such a pleasant sound out of you. He's immediately thinking of other ways to get that sound out again. If Morgan could see him now, he'd never let him hear the end of it.

The good thing about you and Spencer is that no one knows. Not his colleagues, not your friends, not your families. That's the good thing, you get to keep this precious thing between the two of you. The bad thing is that you're not really together. You're not even romantically involved, you've never uttered the four-letter L-word around each other (like or love, both), and you don't even really flirt with each other.

To put it into simple words, you and Spencer are just friends.

But friends who relieve each other's stress nonetheless, and god knows Spencer needs that right now.

“You're back from your recent trip, right?” You ask, audibly crunching on something. It sounds like you're also lying on your couch, he wonders if you were going through something similar when you decided to pick up the phone and call.

“Yeah, thank god.”

“I take it that it wasn't a very good one then? I mean, none of them are good but, I'm guessing some are worse than others.”

Spencer sighs, “You guess correctly.”

“How are you feeling?” Your voice is softer when you ask, concerned, and even though he doesn't like to make you worry, your well-intended question is a very welcome sentiment. He’s almost relieved knowing that there's someone who'll always ask, someone who'll always notice.

“Not very good. Tired.” It's a short answer, but he knows you understand. You've understood him for a very long time now, nearly two years of knowing each other.

“It sounds like you had a very long day.” A very long month. “Why didn't you try to catch some Zs?”

The way you phrase it makes him snort, and he knows you're proud of yourself for that one. “I can't, me and the Zs never had a very good relationship. Trust me, if I could turn my brain off, we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now.”

You hum, “Do you wanna talk about it? I could give you some very valuable, life-changing insight, maybe you'll be able to go to sleep after.”

He smiles, “I've actually had enough of this case, I'd like to talk about something else.”

“Oh, I can definitely do that. Tell me, what did you have for breakfast?”

Breakfast is a terrible topic, meals in general, because you know that he misses a lot of his meals when he's on the job. You always lecture him for it, berating him for being so skinny at his big age, but it's always underlined by concern. He knows you worry about him, he wouldn't blame you.

“Not much…” He trails off, knowing you'll catch on.

“Oh honey, I know your eating and sleeping habits are fucked, but can't you at least lie to me?”

The way you call him honey should not be making his stomach turn like that.

“I could never lie to you.”

“You literally just did.”

You both laugh and he's so, so glad you called. If he didn't think you were asleep he'd have called you first.

“Okay well, I didn't ask that question to find out something I already know. I asked because remember that café we were constantly visiting before you went on this trip? They finally brought the chocolate chip cookies back.”

The chocolate chip cookies case (the quadruple c) is a very vital issue in your relationship with Spencer. Because for weeks, the both of you have been visiting that place close to your apartment, hoping to get some chocolate chip cookies, only to be met by raisins. It was a very devastating experience for both of you, having to settle for something else on the menu every time. But now it’s okay! The chocolate chip cookies are back.

Spencer is so glad he's done with his silly criminal case so he can focus on the real problems at hand.

“And I was thinking, if you're not too tired tomorrow, should we have breakfast together?”

It's sweet, it's earnest, it's you.

It's such a characteristic gesture, asking him to have breakfast with you after particularly draining cases, checking on him as soon as you can tell he's home, and sounding so sweet and concerned over the phone when you know he's feeling down. It’s the small, thoughtful actions coming from you that have helped him keep it together so far.

And the feelings that thought brings out in him lead him to realize, in those few seconds, that he liked you much more than he planned on. Not that he ever planned to like you in the first place, but he thought it was a small crush that would eventually go away, it’s happened before with the pretty women he befriends, and he didn’t think this time would be different.

But it was, and now he’s totally screwed because he doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to say no to you.

“Absolutely, I can't wait to have those chocolate cookies again.”

You're ecstatic over his response, your tone picking up about 3 octaves when you jump to discussing the other plans you have this week. Your favorite artist is releasing an album soon, your favorite game is finally available at the video game store, the finale of that show you've been talking to him about is airing in two days, and it seems like your life is full of positive sequences.

The juxtaposition between what he sees at work and the enthusiasm you bring into his life almost gives him a headache, but it could very well be sleep deprivation. He wonders if all the misfortunes that have happened to him are the evil equivalents of the things you brought into his life.

But if all the bad things that have happened to him and around him got compensated by you, he doesn't find it such a bad tradeoff. Because meeting you on a random Monday night and somehow catching your attention enough for you to leave him your number— even when he was so frazzled by the need for coffee so he could grind out some paperwork before his deadline— it feels like he used up all his luck on that fateful encounter.

And having someone he could always meet up with, outside of work, has been very grounding.

You talk his ears off for the rest of the night, rambling about one thing or the other until his eyelids get heavy again, and he feels tired enough to sleep. You tell him that's been your plan all along and wish him a good night.

Later, when he’s under the covers of his bed, drifting off to sleep, for a few minutes his brain isn't aggravating him with the thoughts that have been haunting him all day. For a few minutes, all he can think about is you.

He is so fucked.

Emily Prentiss is a very smart agent.

She’s been told that ever since she was a little girl, and though it was often complimentary, people sucking up to her mom and whatnot, it was never a complete lie. She grew up thirsty for knowledge, mastering everything she could get her hands on, and even as an adult with a grown up job, she continues to excel at what she does

But then, if she's so smart, why the hell can she not figure out why Spencer Reid is so giddy while doing his paperwork?

It may have to do with the fact that it's Spencer, and that kid has always been a little perplexing to her. He's bright and brilliant, but she could never truly understand how his mind works. But, at the same time, there's such a thing as habits, and Spencer is not typically so smiley while doing paperwork. No one is smiley while doing paperwork in this line of work, because it makes you relive the nightmares. For goodness’s sake, this is the behavioral analysis unit, and Spencer is behaving weirdly.

It seems like she isn’t the only agent at the office who noticed the peculiarity. Agent Morgan stands behind her, his third cup of coffee in his hand, squinting at the young doctor. They observe him like a wild animal in his natural habitat; had they not been so tired from all the work, they would’ve been picking on him by now.

When Emily feels her presence behind him, she turns around, and they exchange a mutual look of understanding. They've never seen Reid act like that in the time that they’ve worked together, and they know one thing that they've never seen him experience during that time either.

They realize it at the same time, and Morgan nearly drops his coffee.

Spencer Reid is in love.

There have been many misfortunes in the 25 years that you've been on this earth, and you're convinced that a lot of them have been aimed at you. You're the only person who has ever suffered that much during your whole life, it's a known fact. It's a fact that you like to remind Spencer of, to make him feel better about his work, and when he laughs at it, you remind him that people called Jesus a liar too.

You've been through a lot of suffering, but the task of getting dressed before Spencer knocks on your door in approximately ten minutes may just be the worst thing that's ever happened to you.

He thinks that just because he has a day off, he could pressure you into a sudden— very much unplanned— date? He thinks that shooting you a text to get dressed so you can go to the record store and then have dinner only twenty minutes before you're supposed to do the aforementioned activities is allowed? He's absolutely right, and you hate him for it.

Not that it's really a date, you know you and Spencer have never crossed that line, but it feels like it. Especially if he's making you feel like a teenage girl high on hormones having her very first crush. Her very first date. The particular action you're thinking about has to be kept to yourself, just so you don't jinx it.

You really shouldn't be thinking about that when you still haven't figured out which outfit to wear. More thinking about clothes, less thinking about boys. Specifically one boy.

It takes all your willpower and energy to finish getting ready in those ten minutes. You settle for your most comfortable pair of jeans and a white button-down with a vest over it, and for good measure, you throw your coat on— the long beige-brown trench coat that makes you feel like you're Sherlock Holmes about to solve a crime. You realize that it's very fitting for an outing with a profiler, he's kind of like Sherlock Holmes if you think about it.

It's fall now, and it's much more chilly. You hope your precious profiler brought his own coat because, as much as you care for him, you won't be lending him yours.

When he rings your doorbell, you're finishing up and tossing the rest of the necessities into your bag. You make him wait for a minute, to avoid seeming eager, and then make your way to the door.

The minute you lay your eyes on him, you feel sick to your stomach.

Spencer Reid is beautiful, this is a fact that you've known ever since you met. He pulls off the dorky yet hot look so well, with that stupid smile of his when he talks like a smartass. And you're reminded of this every time you see him, the fact that he's so adorable that it physically hurts to keep your hands off him all the time. Tonight is no different, he's dressed in a dark button-down with a brown vest over it, covered by a beige coat that contrasts the dark colors beautifully. It takes you a couple seconds to realize you're wearing similar outfits, almost like a matching couple.

“Copycat.” You accuse, fighting off a smile with warm cheeks. He grins in retaliation, “Hello to you too.”

God, he’s beautiful. In the dim light of your apartment's entrance, you catch the gleam of his eyes. They're warm, earthy, and familiar, you don't think you'd ever stop staring at his eyes if you had the chance to do it without looking crazy. His eyelashes are unfairly long, and his light brown hair forms waves around his face like a frame around an artwork. He always tucks a few stray strands behind his ear, and you always mess it up for him– which is something you do for two reasons, you like annoying him, and you desperately want to touch his hair. It’s just simply unfair for him to be born that beautiful.

He seems to notice you staring because his cheeks are a little pink, and he has a little bashful smile on his face. “Ready to go?” He scans your form like the little detective he is, “Looks like you could get ready in 20 minutes after all.”

Now you remember why you were so annoyed at him, good looks be damned.

“Oh shut up, never do that again.”

“Or what? You'll cuss me over text messages again? How will I ever live with that.”

His shy smile is replaced with a smug grin, and you hate to admit it, but it's one of your favorite looks on him. Because Spencer isn't always able to genuinely smile like that, he's usually stressed about one thing or the other; and knowing him, he's always reliving some terrible event that happened in the past two years, and sometimes even further back in time. So while his amusement comes at your expense, you'd rather see him smiling like this all the time.

“God, you're so mean to me.”

Even though you mean to sound stern, you can't hide your smile.

You pick up your keys from the hanger by the door and toss them into your handbag, he follows your movements with his eyes, “that's not true. I'm always so nice to you, sometimes a little too nice.”

You lock your door behind you and give him a fake offended look, “You could never be too nice to me. Let's go, agent Reid. We've got a long night ahead of us.”

Then you're strutting ahead of him, motioning for him to follow you like a helpless little intern. Even though he rolls his eyes and laughs in disbelief, he ends up following you anyway.

‘Albert’s records’ has been your favorite record store since you moved into your apartment in Quantico— and not only because you’ve met Albert, the sweetest little old man to ever exist, but also because Spencer always looks mystified inside the store. It’s like something about vintage things just makes him tick.

You're checking out vinyls that are selling for discounted prices, old pieces of famous artists and commonly known albums, while he's looking at the posters on the walls, admiring the artistic work of the rustic-looking store. He’s always trailing behind you, and you don't mind because it makes you feel safe and cared for. You didn't know being trailed by an FBI agent could feel so comforting.

Your eyes catch on a certain record, and you turn around, “Hey, Spencer.”

He stops eyeing the posters on the wall and turns to you, hair falling over his shoulders adorably.

“What do you think of this?”

You're holding a classic black Billy Joel vinyl in your hand, careful not to hold it too tightly. It's his 1977 release of The Stranger, an album you're not too familiar with. You've only listened to Vienna and a few other songs. Spencer eyes the cover carefully like it triggers a memory deep inside his brain. You're expecting him to go on a tangent about Billy Joel and 70s music, but you're instead met by a very sentimental response.

“My mom loved that one.”

He's quiet, using that careful but lost tone of voice, and you worry that you accidentally triggered something unpleasant. You knew Spencer had a complicated relationship with his parents, namely his mother. On the rare occasion where he had a few too many drinks, he spilled a lot more than he intended to. Drunk Spencer was always so painfully honest and you admired how easily his filter would come off a few drinks in, but you never wanted him to feel embarrassed by it. On those particularly emotional nights— after he calls you to pick him up because he's too drunk to drive— you would listen to him ramble the whole drive to your apartment, force him to stay over so you can take care of his pounding headache in the morning, and hold him until he passes out on your couch like a partying college student.

Something he’s never been before.

Those incidents have led you to know more about Spencer than he ever thought he could share, and one of those sensitive topics just happens to be his mom. It's not an uncomfortable topic, you've talked about it before when he's not too drunk to realize what's going on. Even though it was hard for him at first, talking about it became easier the more he shared, you understood more and more things without him telling you.

And because you’ve talked about it, you're not scared of his response when you ask with a lighthearted smile, “is that a bad thing?”

That seems to bring him back to earth, and he gives you a reassuring smile, “No, not at all, just brought me back to some memories I'd honestly forgotten about.”

You hold the record to your chest, almost certain that you're going to buy it now, “Well would you like to make some new memories in relation to this record?”

Would you like to come to my apartment and listen to it with me?

“Yeah, I'd love to.” He smiles in a way that makes you feel a little lightheaded, knowing he's comfortable sharing this much of himself with you. It's so intimate, knowing that in this public store, you're still sharing private moments that no one else knows about.

You’re about to go back to checking out vinyls, trying to conceal the giddy feeling bubbling in your chest, when a high-pitched voice intrudes on the moment you were having with Spencer.

“Oh my god.”

You both turn to look at the source of the voice and when you look to Spencer to see what this is about, he looks like he recognizes the source. He looks terrified. Your gaze falls on two blonde girls, one gaping at the sight of you, and the other being the source of the dramatic reaction that broke through the silence a few minutes ago.

Her blonde hair is styled in waves and she's wearing such a colorful, creative ensemble that you're mesmerized by the intricate details of her outfit. The hair clips, the makeup, the platforms that she's wearing, you wanted to talk to this girl so bad.

And it seems like you're in luck today, because she's immediately rushing to your side with wide mesmerized eyes.

“Wonderboy, you've been hiding her from us for how long exactly?”

You're guessing “wonderboy” is Spencer since she seems to be his friend and your chest feels warm knowing his friends nickname him such cute things. Spencer deserves to be known for all his good traits after all, and he sure as hell is your boy of wonder.

“Garcia, please, I'm begging you to act normal about this right now.” He mutters, trying his best to keep this conversation quiet.

She shakes her head, “This is the most normal I can act about you hiding a girl from us.” Then she turns to you again, extending her arm for you to shake. You eagerly extend yours back. “Penelope Garcia, tech analyst at the FBI, and genius boy's co-worker. Oh and, your source for any dirt you want on genius Reid over here.”

That explains how someone like her is in Spencer's social circle, but it doesn't explain how someone so bubbly could work at such a gloomy unit. Working for the government when she should be at the club? It's a crime to you.

“They're keeping a gem like you in a dark, creepy room to dig up information for them?”

You honestly didn't know you could commit such flattery and Spencer is looking at you in disbelief, but she giggles at your poorly concealed flirting and you feel proud of yourself.

“Oh, wonder boy, how did you ever snag a wonderful girl like her.”

Spencer is blushing so hard at this point you could probably fry an egg on his face. You're introducing yourself to Penelope, filling her in on your occupation, when the other blonde introduces herself as Jennifer Jareau, JJ for short, and she's even more excited to meet you.

She's also heavily pregnant, and you hope that she's currently on maternity leave.

“We were looking for more records that this little guy here could listen to, it's incredibly engaging to include him in our vinyl pick-out process.” JJ rubs her stomach as she explains and you're so fascinated by the idea of childbearing and birth for a few seconds that you almost forget that it's terrifying.

“What about you guys?” Penelope jumps in, eager to put Spencer on the spot again.

“Oh we, uh,” Spencer's eyes shift between you and the two girls, like he's surrounded and begging you for help, “we're just checking out the vinyls on sale.”

“Yeah, I was honestly waiting for these discounts because I'm not selling a kidney for some records, you know?” You step in, hoping to take some heat off Spencer, because the poor boy looks like he’s about to combust.

You're also well aware that the two girls in front of you think you and Spencer are dating, but they haven't said it out loud and Spencer hasn't attempted to correct their assumptions, so why would you be the one to ruin their fun? You'll let them think you're on a date.

“Oh that's so true,” Penelope nods in understanding, “it's like I just want to listen to music, you know?”

You nod in understanding, you do know.

And you also know that you're absolutely going to adore Penelope Garcia and JJ and everyone that you meet who’s involved in Spencer's life. Even though this meetup is so completely unplanned and coincidental, it makes you excited knowing you can prod Spencer about more details now, talking about work in a way that doesn't concern the cases. You’d kill for some office gossip that doesn’t involve yourself.

“Oh, Morgan is going to lose it when he hears about this,” JJ says, almost talking to herself.

Penelope jumps to add more wood to the forest fire, “Oh my God, remember what he said to Emily? He was right.” That catches Spencer's attention, “what did he say to Emily?”

“He said that you're all giggly at work because you're in love.” Penelope answers without missing a beat, and she says it so casually, as if she didn't basically strip Spencer naked right in front of you.

You’re subtly stealing glances at him from the corner of your eye, suppressing a smile at the way he blushes deeply and looks at the ground as if he wants it to swallow him whole right now. Something tells you you're absolutely going to love Penelope and he's going to pay the price for that relationship.

“Spencer is giggling at work?” You ask, like she just told you he joined a cult.

Penelope nods eagerly, “Oh yeah, I've never seen someone look so cheerful while doing paperwork, every time I'm out of my office for a coffee refill he's just there giggling to himself like he's hearing voices. Except the voices turned out to just be a pretty girl, which I have to say,” she puts her hand over her heart dramatically, “I’m so glad it did.”

Spencer squeezes his eyes shut, the shame overwhelming him, “I'm begging you to stop talking.”

Penelope and JJ are giggling, enjoying torturing him like this for your pleasure, and you’re close to joining them, but you choose to stay loyal to Spencer— if only to make sure he doesn’t get a migraine from all this embarrassment. But you're also just giddy, knowing Spencer cannot conceal his infatuation with you to save his life. Despite all the hints here and there that he definitely likes you, and all the discreet touching and staring at your lips when you talk —something you know he can't tell you noticed— the way he doesn't deny any of what's being said tells you that you're, at the very least, a person of interest.

A person of Spencer's interest. Your smile is getting harder and harder to hide.

“Okay, okay, lovebirds, we'll leave you alone now. But trust me, you haven't heard the end of this, once Derek finds out, oh Spencer Reid, you might never want to step foot in that building ever again.” You nod eagerly, excited to hear more about how they’ll taunt him later on. They give you their rushed goodbyes as Penelope guides JJ outside the store, you can hear her quietly complain about leaving empty-handed when she came all the way, but your mind is someplace else, neurons buzzing with ideas of how to torment Spencer now that you’re alone again.

You turn to look at him, no longer holding back your smile, “so…”

He immediately puts a finger to your lips, “Don't start.”

You reach for his hand to move it away, giggling like a schoolgirl, “you're fawning over me at work? Oh my God, Spence, I didn't know you were that far gone, baby.” You hold onto his hand, as a way to restrain him, but also because you just want to hold his hand.

“I was not fawning, they made it all sound so much worse than it actually was.” You raise your eyebrows at him and he continues, looking more flustered. “I was smiling, can I not smile to myself anymore?”

You absentmindedly lace your fingers with his, bringing your joint hands to your chest like something precious, “You're smiling like a lovesick fool about me at work, Spencer, you're so fucked.”

Your amusement is so palpable, and your cheeks hurt from smiling, but there’s also something else there.

Something you haven’t fully experienced before, not its rawness and neediness. Something that you can tell will grow in your chest until it fully conquers your whole body and claims your mind. You don't know what you'll call it yet, but it's something a lot like love.

“Alright alright, I get it. It's National Embarrassing Spencer day, let's buy this record and get out of here. We have a dinner to get to.”

The weight of his hand in yours almost made you forget you were still holding the record, handling it so carelessly just to bring him closer. You realize you're drunk on affection, and eager to have more of his attention for the rest of the night. When he doesn't make a move to remove his hand from your hold, only dragging you behind him to check out, you feel like there will be a lot of new developments tonight.

The rest of the night goes as well as you would imagine.

Despite your incessant teasing, you have plenty of conversations that aren't centered around embarrassing Spencer and enjoying it. You sip wine together while he tells you about the letters he's been sending his mom; apparently, he's started telling her about you. While you're surprised he's only just doing it now, he confesses that he wanted to wait until he was sure you'd stay before he made such a decision. Unfortunately, with his line of work, he's right to be worried about things like that, but you stayed anyway, and now his mom knows about you.

And you have her favorite record in a plastic bag that you carry on the way home.

When his car pulls up to your building, you're hesitant to get out. You don't feel like the night is over yet. It was lovely and unforgettable, meeting his friends, learning about his mom, and having a very nice dinner together, but you feel like there's still one more topic that needs to be discussed.

When you don't make a move to get out of the car yet, he calls out your name in concern. You turn to look at him and your gaze is so intense he's almost intimidated.

“Is everything okay?”

You nod absentmindedly, too lost in trying to figure out what's missing from such a wonderful night.

“Well, we're here. This is your apartment, you know?” You can tell that's not the sentence he aimed for, but you're aware that Spencer stumbles over his words when he's nervous. You don't fault him for it.

You give him a genuine smile, “Yeah, I know.”

Then you're moving to unlock the car door, the newly bought record in your hand, and you get one leg out of the car before you realize exactly what this night is missing.

“Spencer?” You turn to him, he's already looking at you.

“Yes?”

Slowly, carefully, you ask, “would you like to come upstairs?”

Your apartment is somewhere that he's only seen while extremely drunk, hammered out of his mind. You realize that this is the first time you invite him up when he's actually well enough to walk on his own, and you also realize that it means something to you. You hope it also means something to him.

“Uh, yeah, sure? If you want me to walk you to your door, I'll definitely do that.” He's picking at the leather covering the wheel, cheeks slightly flushed like they’d been earlier. Multiple times during the night, you note how he’s always glowing red around you like a pulsating organ. Is it the slight chill of the weather or the heat behind your eyes? You hope it’s the latter.

“I think you know what you want.”

You weren't sure if he knew, but knowing Spencer, a line like that will trigger him into thinking about it so hard that he'll actually figure it out. You watch the gears turn in his head but he still looks confused, you hope that by the time you get to your door, he'll realize what you're talking about.

“I'm not sure, but I'll figure it out.” You give him one last smile before you exit the car.

True to his word, Spencer walks you up to your door after parking his car somewhere close. When you reach the apartment, as you dig for your keys in your purse, he stands next to you, looking a little lost because he clearly didn’t expect this. He fiddles with the ends of his vest while observing you.

You unlock your door and get inside, leaving it open so he can follow you. You drop your purse on your dining table and lay the record down next to it, watching from the corner of your eye as he steps into your apartment cautiously, like he's stepping over booby traps.

The door locks and you can't escape the conversation any longer. You also can't bear seeing him so lost, because god blessed him with eyes that make him look like a sad baby deer all the time. And every time he uses them on you, you immediately cave, because letting him suffer feels like letting a baby animal die.

“Spence.” You call, sultry and slow.

If you catch the way he slightly jumps at your voice, you don’t react.

“Yes?” He’s quiet, worried.

You lean back against your table, a relaxed smile on your face, “you know why I brought you here, right?”

He swallows, tucking his hair behind his ear. “A woman inviting her date up to her apartment could lead to a variety of things, but most commonly it leads to either sexual intercourse or murder.” His cheeks heat up at the words ‘sexual intercourse’ and you want to eat him alive. “And I'm kind of hoping you didn't invite me up here to kill me.”

You raise an eyebrow, the desire to tease him so strong and unforgiving, “So you hope I'll have sex with you then?”

That really gets him. His whole face goes red— blood rushing down his neck and up to his ears. He opens his mouth to say something, but he can't. Instead, he just opens and closes it a couple of times, unable to articulate anything. If you were in a different situation, you'd have called him a fish, but you also realize something very critical: he doesn’t deny your previous statement.

“Spencer,” you call his whole name this time, voice low and heavy with something that alarms him further. “Can you come here, please?”

He hesitantly leaves his spot, taking slow, careful steps to your side. He stands at a considerable distance, making sure he gives you your personal space. If he’d done this at any other time, you’d have been fawning over how considerate he is, but right now you want him as close as possible, personal space be damned.

Feeling particularly brash, you reach out and pull him closer by a fistful of his shirt. He’s startled, but he lets you move him closer as if he were a rag doll, now you're barely a few inches away from him. Your hand moves to his neck, feeling the warmth that spread there a few minutes ago, the warmth that you caused. If it feels like it's getting warmer under your touch, you don't comment on it.

It's the first time you've touched him this much, this intimately, and it feels like you've been missing out for the past two years.

He watches you carefully, eyebrows furrowed as he tries to figure out what you're aiming for. This is probably how he acts at work, you think, staring at something until he’s able to break it open and decipher its message, will he decipher your message too?

You look up at him through long lashes, peering into his eyes, hoping to communicate something with your eyes before you can put it into words. You feel a certain need in your stomach, tying knots and constricting your airways— it's what you guess people would call butterflies. Right now, you'd call it absolutely torture.

“Spencer.”

It's the third time you've called his name so far, and this time your noses are touching and you practically breathe his name onto his lips. This encourages him to put an arm around your waist and raise the other to cup your face affectionately. You lean into his touch, welcoming the reciprocation.

“I'm here,” his voice is low, more certain now, almost like he figured you out, “you can tell me.”

You nearly melt in his hands now that he's using that self-assured voice. You love it when he's shy, but god do you adore it when he talks like he knows exactly what to do with you. The things you'd let him do to you would probably get you placed on a watch list, but you don't mind as long as he's the one watching.

“You know what I want to say, don't you?”

He blinks, the gold flakes in his eyes so striking when you're this close, “maybe I do, but I'd like to hear you say it.”

He's in no place to be making such demands. He should be melting in your hands, not the other way around. You shouldn't be getting this weak at the knees just because he's using that stupid husky tone, sounding like he knows all your secrets. But, fuck, he absolutely knows all your secrets. He could probably read you like an open book— which you actually wouldn't mind at all because you've seen the way his hands stroke the pages when he's reading, and you'd love for those fingers to be all over you like they're all over those stupid books.

Your eyes glaze over with desire and you're getting impatient, while he watches you like he's studying your next move. Goddamn profilers and their dirty work. He should be getting dirty with you.

You mutter a quiet fuck and step back to separate your bodies; even though there's no place to go because the table is right there, you're at least not directly face to face anymore. His warm breath on your lips was driving you insane, and you brought him up here to talk, you needed to have this conversation. For your sanity.

He gives you space, because he's always been so caring and so perceptive about what you need, and the gesture makes you want to bounce on him. You have to remind yourself that if you keep thinking with your lower regions, this will be a counterproductive night.

You realize you can't do this while standing up, so you hoist yourself up on the table, and wiggle around till you get comfortable. Your trench coat isn't bending to your will and it takes you some more shuffling to beat it down. You really should've taken it off when you stepped in through the door.

The sound of Spencer's chuckle makes you realize that he's still here and he's very much observing your embarrassing fight with a trench coat. Your cheeks feel warm, but this is not the most shameful thing you've done tonight, and you're probably aiming to beat that record anyway.

“Don't laugh at me,” you mutter, embarrassed but smiling.

“Okay,” he laughs, “I won't.”

“God, you're such a liar. Is everybody at the FBI full of lies?”

He shrugs, “Depends on who you ask.”

You laugh and you're so in awe at how all the stress leaves your body so easily when he's talking to you, it makes you wonder why the hell you can't just say it. One sentence, something he already knows, something anyone would probably know by observing you for five minutes, it should be easy. But as obvious as it is, you're also well aware that once you say it, it becomes real. And you can't escape It. You can't pretend like it's something casual between you if you get your heart broken, or if he feels like you're moving too fast. The minute those words are out of your mouth, you'll have to confront the reality of your situation.

And you're scared.

You're scared that once you say those words and it becomes a real living thing, you could actually lose Spencer. You could get into an argument later and it ruins everything between you, or he could fall out of love, or you could fall out of love. There are so many bad endings to a relationship and the possibilities make you hesitate.

Spencer must've noticed that you're taking a while to speak, that you're too busy stressing out about it, because he comes close again (leaving enough space for the holy spirit this time) to gently hold your hand. It works like he intends it to. The skin-to-skin contact is grounding and you relax a little, wishing you could just melt into him and never have to go through any uncomfortable conversations.

But when you look up at him, and you're met with the familiar trustworthy eyes of the guy who has been your god-given solace for months now, you wonder how the hell you could ever rethink taking a chance on him.

Even if the risk is terrifying and you're scared of ruining things, you know Spencer would be worth the try. Plus, fantasizing about a reality where it works out and you get married in a few years is actually much more fun than thinking about impending doom.

You don't want the world to end before you tell Spencer the raw truth of your feelings, and not through subtle gestures or sneaky glances, you want him to hear the whole thing.

You squeeze his hand for one final reassurance. He smiles and squeezes your hand back.

“Spencer, I've got something very important to tell you.”

Slow and stead.

“I'm listening.”

You lick your lips.

“Okay well, remember how I told you a few months ago that there were currently no guys who were interested in me?”

He nods.

“Well, I lied.”

He raises his eyebrows, amused at the route you're taking, “oh yeah?”

You nod, swallowing heavily, “Yeah, yes. There was this… guy at my job, he doesn't work there anymore because he got transferred because of ‘new chances’ or whatever, but he was working with me this time last year, you know? Anyways, he'd get really close to me whenever we were handling the same task, not in a sexual harassment way but in an ‘I have a crush on you’ way. And I realized that he was interested in me because he kept dropping hints and I'm, surprisingly, not that oblivious. I can tell when a guy likes me. He actually asked me out once to this new donut place near the office, but I declined because he has really bad table manners to be honest and, god I'm glad he's not working with us anymore because he'd hog all the coffee and we could barely find anything to drink by the end of the day— but that's not the only reason I rejected him, I actually rejected him because… because I couldn't imagine going out with anyone else who wasn't you, and I guess what I'm trying to say is- that's when I realized that I like you, Spencer. And I've liked you for almost a year now.”

You're out of breath by the time it's all out, but incredibly relieved. You look up at Spencer and he has this amused twinkle in his eyes and a very dumb smug smirk on his face. Once you're fully and completely done with your little speech, the first thing he does is laugh.

You're so offended you immediately take your hand away from his and slap his chest, “Don't fucking laugh, I just confessed my feelings for you.” You hit him some more, but he won't stop laughing, “Spencer, this is so fucking rude, oh my god, just reject me like a lady if you're going to mock me like this.”

He catches your hand before you land another weak punch on his arm, and you have very little time to react before he reaches forward, cupping your face with his other hand and joining your lips for a long-awaited kiss.

You've fantasized about the way he kisses for a very long time. After you’d heard about his little make-out session with that actress in the pool, it took everything in your body to resist asking him to take you next. You've thought about kissing him nearly every night when you were falling asleep, he was even haunting some of your dreams like a fiend, kissing you like his life depended on it, only for you to wake up to the cruel, harsh reality of never having kissed Spencer Reid.

But that reality is different now.

He uses both his hands to cup your face and angles your head just right to get as much contact as possible. He tastes like the wine you've been drinking all night and smells like cedar wood and sage. God, even when kissing you he has to smell like a perfect little herbal garden? You'd get mad at him if his lips moving against yours weren't melting away every ounce of sophistication you have in your body.

You use the chance to be greedy and reach your hand into his hair, making sure to mess it up so that there’s proof that you were here, in his arms, kissing him.

He's sweet with his kiss, despite knowing you both waited for it for so long, he doesn't push you to go further even though you'd love for him to. You'd let him take you on this table right now.

But the absolute worst thing about Spencer is that he's so respectful that he pulls away after a few seconds to watch for your reaction. He's flushed with desire and his eyes have gone dark in a way that you've only seen when he was really angry. You can tell that he's restraining himself to not make you uncomfortable. His eyes scan your face eagerly, his hands resting on either side of your face.

“God, you're so… ridiculous.”

The comment is so unexpected that you laugh, and the sexual tension seems to ease into just… sexual existence. “Hey, what's that for? You're going to kiss a girl and then immediately insult her?”

His smile mirrors yours, “my apologies, your highness. I have just never heard such a ridiculous confession in my life before.”

You frown, lips curling into a pout, “not true, that actress in the pool had a ridiculous confession too.” She didn't, but you never fully got over her kissing Spencer before you could.

“Oh yes, I'm sorry, I forget about any other woman when I'm with you.” Then he plants a quick kiss on your lips with a poorly concealed smile, and you can just tell that he's going to be doing that a lot to get away with whatever bullshit he's spewing.

“You’re unbelievable, Spencer Reid.”

Then you’re kissing him again, craving more of what he gave you during the first kiss. The desperation for contact has you pulling him closer by his collar, leaning into the kiss like you were starving before him. When he finally slips his tongue into your mouth, you moan so pathetically it makes his grip around you tighten, body drawing impossibly closer to yours.

You're kissing for such an extended period of time that you're dizzy from the lack of air when he pulls away, and you're greeted by that lovely shade of crimson on his face. You desperately want to find out just how red he can get and in what other places.

You're admiring his face, lost in the haze of the kiss, and chewing absentmindedly on your lips when you suddenly remember something very important. You draw back a little to shoot him a very serious look.

“Hey, you never said you liked me back.”

He laughs in disbelief, “do I have to?”

You nod like a petulant child, seriously alarmed.

He playfully rolls his eyes, “alright, I like you too,” he kisses you, “I like you a lot actually.”

You're satisfied with that answer, melting into his touch again, like a helpless pet. You admire the post-makeout look that adorns his face and makes him more beautiful than you could ever imagine, and he gazes at you with stars in his eyes. For a while, it feels like the universe belongs to the two of you and no one else.

Until you remember how late it is and the fact that Spencer actually works tomorrow, then you're not that happy anymore.

“What's wrong?” He asks, nose rubbing against yours as if you could ever focus on anything when he's that close.

“You have work tomorrow, and it's very late…”

He draws back from you, as if broken out of the trance by your words, “Oh no, you're right.” He's starting to move away when something inside you kicks in and suddenly your legs are flying to lock around his waist to secure him in place. He raises his eyebrows at you, amused and surprised.

“You can't do this.”

You nod your head menacingly, “oh yes I can.” You know he could easily break out of your hold if he really wanted to, but the fact that he's entertaining your antics tells you that he's not very eager to leave either.

“Angel, I have to go to work in the morning. Like an adult with responsibilities, you know?”

If you were in your right mind, you'd be offended at that comment, but he's just kissed you senselessly and then called you ‘angel’ for the very first time. No one could blame you for not being very wise.

“You can still go to work in the morning, you just... don't have to leave right now.”

“You want me to stay? Here?” You nod. “My love, you don't even have a change of clothing that can fit me.”

“Then sleep naked. I won't complain.”

He laughs, “What about a toothbrush? You don't have an extra one for me.”

“I change my toothbrush once every three months and I always buy extra, so I do actually have a completely sealed, never used before brush that you can use. It will be yours from now on.”

He shakes his head in disbelief but you can tell he's starting to budge, your technique is working.

Plus there's the unsaid promise that, if he stays, there will be a lot more kissing going on.

“And you want me to go to work tomorrow in this same outfit?”

“Mhm, we'll hang it and it will be just fine.”

“I don't have my badge with me, I can't go to work without my badge.”

You scoff. “Then wake up early and drive by your place, stop creating irrelevant problems, Spencer.”

He’s in disbelief at your brazenness but seems to cave in anyway. “Fine, yeah, I'll stay.”

You smile, very proud of yourself, “yes you will.”

At this point, you're aware that your leg is still around his waist, and you're holding him in place like you took him hostage, but you honestly don't feel like letting him go just yet. Months of pining for him like a lovesick fool, you think you deserve to relish in the power you exert over him. He seems to notice the hunger for power in your eyes because he's coming closer again, placing his hands on either side of your thighs.

“You have other plans for me tonight, don't you?” He's using that husky tone again and looking at you with glazed-over hazel eyes. Like a predator hunting its prey.

You place your arms around his neck, back where they belong, “and if I do? Will you punish me, officer?”

His warm breath fans over your lips and you're shaking to your core with anticipation, “I don't know, maybe I will.”

Then he puts an end to all your antagonizing conversations that are distracting you from more important matters by bringing you in for another eager kiss. You take all of him in, the stubborn grip he has on your face, the teeth clashing when he shifts your positions, the low moan he releases when you pull on his hair — you take everything he gives you with eagerness and hunger. You could swallow him up whole right now if you could.

When he pulls away to take a breath and you're confronted by his disheveled face once more, you realize that there are a lot of things you're going to do to him tonight. You realize that it’s going to be a good while before either of you goes to sleep.

#this is the longest I've ever written #its so long its slowing my phone down help #anyways i hope it was enjoyable i hope he wasnt ooc and if he was ill do better next time ☝️#and HAPPY BIRTHDAY SPENCER REID BABY BOY!!!#i waited for his birthday to post all of this #my gorgeous gorgeous boy #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid smut #spencer x reader

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starvu · 7 months ago

Text

My Heart Won't Start Anymore || s. reid

where you were always, always there for spencer, but after what happened with maeve you couldn't handle it anymore, you felt betrayed

pairing: spencer reid x bau member!gn!reader

genre: fluff, angst/hurt

content warnings: mention of spencer's addiction, mention of his being shot in the knee, reader was once shot in the stomach, mentions of blood, fairly graphic description of maeve's death, maeve wasn't spencer's girlfriend, but they had feelings, that's for sure, bitter ending (inspired by "you're losing me" ts)

word count: 9,1k

a/n: i described the whole line from s2 to s8 here, i didn't even know i could write that much lol. and i haven't written that much yet, it was a bit of a weird concept and i couldn't put everything into words, but I wanted to write it so much (i suck at dialogue, sorry). i spent like nine hours today only in notes app and writing this, im kinda insane. i won't be posting any more work this year, so i hope your new year will be happy 😽

You would never have thought it would end like this. No, no... no. It wasn't supposed to be like this.

No.

You were always each other's support, comfort, comfort. When you joined the BAU, you were just a young girl, full of ambition and hope, joyful and smiling with sprinkles in your eyes, but also a lost girl. Lost in a new environment and new circumstances.

No need to mention that you were a people pleaser who only wanted to be noticed... right?

Of course, you were prepared for such a job, but damn, you didn't expect this. What they learned in training and at the academy was nothing compared to what you had been working on since day one. Theory was just a sliver of practice, yes, it was brutal, but in real work, the same theory seemed like a sugar-coated story with sprinkles. It didn't connect in any way.

But Spencer wanted to help you. He really, genuinely wanted to help you. He wasn't that much older, well, no, you were the same age, actually. He wasn't overly effusive or outgoing, but he wanted you to settle in, and you appreciated that. He was awkward, very awkward, more interested in facts than people, and not really good at social interactions, and your good attitude made him a little intimidated when he first saw you and you eagerly greeted him, introducing yourself.

He wasn't sure what you would find nice and was afraid of imposing, so he did little things like bring you fresh coffee from that not-so-great coffee machine, sometimes gave you little tips about team members, sometimes helped you when your casework was limited to sifting through tedious piles of files tied with string, the letters already shimmering before your eyes and blurring into black spots.

That's why when he went through his own hell, held captive by Tobias Hankel and drugged, you felt the need to help him. You couldn't explain it, but... no, you could actually explain it. You always wanted to help everyone and spread your smile. A smile that didn't fit the job, a smile that was the opposite of the brutality you saw in the job, and only that smile allowed you to keep your sanity.

Hey, do you know that you'll even lose your spark and the twinkle in your eyes?

You felt plain, simple, and human sympathy for him. His addiction problem was one of those ignored ones. You all swept it under the rug, almost like the whole team suddenly had blinkers on and lived in a conspiracy of silence, even if you didn't state it out loud. That just hadn't happened in the history of this team, even if you had noticed Spencer's daily highs. There was nothing wrong with the young genius's mind, after all. More or less.

You hadn't known him very long, but you knew it had little to do with his everyday behavior. Even if you only knew him for a few months before, he couldn't act like this and you noticed that everyone outside the team noticed his behavior as well, which Hotch could always justify because 'Dr. Reid isn't at his best right now'.

Funny how reputation and lack of complications from the people above were more important than Reid's well-being.

Funny how Reid's well-being has become more important to you than your own.

You acted somewhat on your own, you tried to help Spencer, even if he rejected help, he was elusive. He closed himself off, he practically dismissed his problem on his own. And maybe you were a little intrusive, yes, you were aware of it, but how else were you supposed to act in such a situation?

And surprisingly, you succeeded. He didn't look kindly on your actions, but he stopped dismissing you coldly. Your actions were happening behind the team's back, you didn't want to expose yourself as a newbie to something that wouldn't be approved of. If this whole situation is going on behind the backs of the people at the top, why couldn't you go behind the backs of the team?

You took care of him, at least as much as he allowed you. You didn't want to overdo it, but you tried. You didn't force him to do anything, but you still tried everything that could replace the dilaudid, you spent more time with him than was appropriate just to distract him from needing another dose. and when he stopped taking the drug, you were there to help him through the withdrawal symptoms, although withdrawal was the hardest. You were understanding and respected him despite everything, even if it was a difficult and overwhelming experience. You could say that it left a mark on you, however you wouldn't admit it. You just piled on the stress and nerves. It wasn't easy by any means, but you didn't have the heart to leave him.

You never had the heart to leave him.

Or at least that's what you thought.

Anyway, you were there for him.

He also felt a spark of sympathy for you when you cared so much for him, because you didn't let up or ignore the problem. He finally felt a little different, other than a drugged-up piece of trash. Someone really wanted to be with him, to suffer especially for him and at some point with him.

You knew that a spark of understanding was being born between you over the years. A spark of something warm, like friendship. Your friendship was close, there was something special and magical about it. He trusted you. He trusted you and opened up to you, he felt exposed to his emotions but he didn't feel bad about it. It wasn't often that he felt this way about anyone, you were important to him.

Sometimes Penelope joked that you were glued together, because wherever Spencer was, you were too, within a radius of a few meters and no further. If you think about it, the sweet, sweet technical analyst wasn't wrong at all, in fact, she was right. Likewise, Derek, who would laugh and sometimes tease you about your glued hips, you dismissed it as bullshit.

You were sitting in her darkened computer lab, your seat was a little lower, so you rested your head on the desk. The quiet hum of computers came from the computer lab. You didn't have much work, so you sat together and talked about things that helped you forget about the hardships and darkness of work for a while. You matched each other with your rather cheerful personalities. You were sipping from plastic cups through colorful straws some overly sweet tea that Penelope had brought earlier. You weren't even sure what kind of tea it was, some brewed herbs with a lavender aftertaste. In any case, it was tasty.

You laughed. "Pen no. There's no match here..."

She stared at you with clear disappointment and determination, she interrupted you suddenly. "Listen, it's in the stars. I beg you, can't you feel it?"

You shook your head slightly. "Penelope. I really love you and appreciate you, but this is a bunch of bullshit. What kind of match in the stars? Just because you, as a fetus, decided to be born on this day and not another, doesn't mean you have a fantastic love match with anyone." You took a sip of tea, but you were still staring at the blonde analyst.

"I'm not just talking about the stars here. It's the whole match, similar vibes, agreement and..." She continued to justify herself when Spencer suddenly entered the computer room with two warm coffees.

"Garcia, there's extra foam and vanilla syrup for you." He put the coffee on the desk. "Here." He looked at you. "They didn't have any almond milk, so I got lactose-free." He put down the second coffee and looked at you apologetically. "Is it okay?"

You just nodded slightly with a warm smile. "Yes, thank you."

Garcia watched your interaction, then took a sip of coffee, she finished her tea earlier. "It's still warm!" She interrupted enthusiastically, and Spencer nodded with her lips pressed into a line, a sign of confirmation.

After a moment he was gone from the computer room, leaving he made his awkward gesture waving at you with his hand, or rather sticking it out motionlessly, and you followed him with your eyes to the door.

On Penelope's face there was an incomprehensible, slightly too wide smile, she looked at you with excitement. "Oh God, it's look of love! Real look of love!"

You sighed. "No, it's not."

"Yes, it is." She continued to chatter happily, not straying from this topic even for a moment.

Penelope believed in the emotional tension between you, personality matching, and other such endearing things that you didn't quite believe in. You hated breaking the worldview of your favorite glitter and pink analyst.

When Spencer was shot in the knee and temporarily annihilated, you also tried to help him, although you were more likely to scold him then. What kind of brainless person wanted to ignore all doctor's orders just to fly with the rest of the team to the crime scenes. Second opinion? More like mindless, idiotic and stupid chatter. You wanted to hit him in the back of the head every time he tried to figure out how to avoid being grounded any longer, and even his doctorate couldn’t convince you to implement gentler measures. You didn't have the strength to fight him and you wanted to shoot him in the knee again, but it was out of concern, as strange as it might sound.

But despite his thoughtlessness, you were there for him then too.

You could say that you spent a lot of time together, often aimlessly, you could sit up all night and talk nonsense and in the end Spencer would let you drink coffee from his mug, and after difficult cases he was the one who tried to comfort you, your radiance and optimism could not be eternal and unwavering, and you baked his favorite cookies with brown sugar and sea salt. It was as if his worries suddenly disappeared, he spoke freely about whatever interested him without being suddenly silenced or dismissed, and strangest of all, even his aversion to germs was then a secondary matter.

You didn't see anything special about it, unlike anyone else around you. Yeah, you were a bit blinded by each other and sometimes the rest of the team felt like they were just getting in the way when they were around you. They felt like they were intruding on your little moments, your exchanges of glances and incomprehensible gestures.

They all felt that something happening, except you two.

And did it bother anyone? It was fine as it was.

Four years just flew by and you changed, not for the worse, change doesn't have to be bad... or something. You couldn't have peace. Day by day you felt more and more strange, not like usual, definitely not like usual, something was wrong, why were you suddenly stressed by his presence, and why did your nerves almost always get the better of you? You didn't show it, but this feeling started to annoy you. And you were a bit excluded, because there was one thought you didn't even consider, it didn't get into your tangle of thoughts, it just didn't. Or maybe it got into the center of your thoughts, and you cleverly avoided it with full awareness? Either way, when one day at work you were staring at him with your chin resting on your hand, probably looking at him from every possible and potential angle, a sudden realization finally hit you.

Oh.

oh.

It was a little different from friendship. Okay, maybe it was very different from friendship. You missed him faster than you thought, you almost felt anxious when he wasn't around and and you felt those nerves when he appeared next to you and you wanted his unwavering attention and you tried to justify it in every way, as friendship, friendly concern, natural nervous reaction towards loved ones, friendly... blah, blah, blah.

You felt attached to Spencer Reid and infatuated with him. To the same Specter who supported you from the beginning, he remembered what your favorite coffee was, he remembered the little details that made you you, showed you care in the same way you showed him care, he wasn't tired of you usually being full of energy and a little too emotional and were your precious friends. You couldn't say you expected it, but you couldn't say you didn't either.

You were in trouble.

Technically, you didn't have to tell him, but on the other hand you had a hard time keeping your mouth shut. You had to work up the courage to tell him. For God's sake, for half a year you'd felt like throwing up just thinking about that conversation. This could be good, or you could have ruined everything. You couldn't be sure he felt the same way, maybe he was just nice (and the fact that your stomach was tingling and your throat was dry and you just wanted to grab his stupid face and kiss it until you couldn't breathe was a side effect). Too nice. Being nice was never a bad thing, but it made you unable to fully read his intentions.

With shame in your mind, you admitted to yourself that you were observing him much more closely than usual, to investigate his behavior, no matter how stupid it seemed. This case really made an idiot out of you.

One night you were staring at the ceiling in your not too big bedroom and exchanging meaningless conversations, as he carefully ran his long fingers through your hair and occasionally glanced at you. There was a lamp on the nightstand, which gave off a rather shady, flickering light. You should have replaced that bulb. The rest of the light coming into the bedroom was the moonlight, carefully trying to get in through the window, thanks to the open curtains and blinds. The bright moonlight was more shy, though.

You finally, with heavy heart decided to talk to him about it.

This wasn't a good idea, trust me.

You tried to play it cool, even as you swallowed hard and your shaking hands were hidden only by the dim light of your bedroom.

"Umm... Spence." The usual certainty suddenly disappeared from your voice. “You know, there’s this thing.”

He immediately turned his head towards you, now in addition to his unwavering attention you had his gaze as well. "Did something serious happen?" He wasn't the best at talking about emotions, but, as befits a profiler, he read them well.

"Not really. I mean, yes, but no." You swallowed hard. "Depends."

He didn't want to rush you, force you to talk or annoy you. "Okay, no rush." Despite that, he felt a growing curiosity and a bit of stress. You rarely took that tone.

Suddenly you felt his hand no longer in your hair. Instead, he squeezed your hand gently in his, assuring you that everything was okay. The gesture, combined with your nerves, made you feel like you might as well cry. It was a gesture that you had considered nice and didn’t object to, but now it was confusing you even more.

It was now or never.

“I think I love you. No, it's not 'I think', I’m convince. Yeah, I'm convince."

Pretty nice, but you won't be the only one saying it.

He didn’t answer right away, only because he always had the feeling he’d ruin everything the moment he started talking about feelings. But he squeezed your hand tighter and didn’t take his eyes off you, his hazel, puppy eyes fixed on you. His voice lacked confidence, he hesitated for a moment, he asked quietly. "Can I?" You nodded slightly, almost imperceptibly.

After a moment, you felt his lips on yours. It was soft, tender and sweet. You had waited so long for this, and his absolute gentleness and feelings melted your heart without the slightest problem. You felt like you were the only people in the world, especially since everything around you was quiet and calm that night, practically intimate without the actual intimacy. Life just happened and you were somewhere in between, not in a rush. You always had to be rushing somewhere after all.

The conclusion from his actions was one. He felt the same way. You thanked all the gods and heavens for that. You didn't even want to think about the disaster that would happen if he didn't reciprocate your feelings and you had to keep working together, not to mention the tragic ending of your friendship. But at that moment, besides your still shaking hands, something else was hiding in the darkness - a smile on your face.

Maybe everything wasn't supposed to be so bad.

Oh sweet child, what a stupid impression.

It wasn't until you became a couple that you realized how little had changed in your relationship. You weren't sure if it was just too romantic before or too platonic now, but it was pretty much the same thing, with the added bonus of showing affection. Your relationship was built on all these little things and there was never a moment when your heart stopped feeling warm. You were really, really happy with the way things were.

For a short moment you regained some of the sparkle in your eyes, take advantage of it.

If Derek had talked about having your hips glued together before, it was hard to say what it could be called now. It wasn't that you were blabbing about your relationship left and right, in fact the fact that your relationship had even happened had stayed between you for a few weeks. You spent a few evenings off from work wondering what to do with the new label of this relationship. Telling Hotch was one option, and keeping it a secret and hiding it in every way possible was another. Both had their pros and cons, because in theory, a relationship between agents wasn't necessarily indicated, so it was more reasonable to admit it than to have him find out later on his own. Hiding it was also reasonable, considering the nature of your work, the dangerous nature, the possibility that someone might use it someday. Well, you didn't come up with a solution right away.

The fact that Spencer would bring you coffee every morning, or the exchange of small smiles, and the fact that you would sit on the edge of his desk while you talked wasn't anything out of the ordinary. It had happened even before there was anything like a relationship between you.

After a few weeks, you decided and went to Hotch to sort it out and not expose yourselves to any unpleasantness related to your new relationship - a relationship between two agents. Potential risk? Hard to say. But maybe it was better to explain it to him honestly, like adults. After all, it was inadvisable, but not forbidden either.

Spencer squeezed your hand in comfort and leaned towards you. "It'll be okay." The warmth of his hand helped a little and brought you back to earth.

"I take you for granted. And you better be right." You turned to face him for a moment. That sounded like one of your joking threats to Spencer. It wasn't the least bit funny to you at the time.

You entered Hotch's office first, with Spencer right behind you. He was on the phone, but quickly put it away. You took a breath. When his gaze landed on you, you still wanted to turn around, run away, hide and hide. But it was too late. You turned your head slightly towards Spencer. And then you wandered with your gaze wherever you could.

To your surprise, the conversation with Hotch was so... ordinary. You felt quite surprised by this turn of events. None of your theories had panned out. Besides, they had no chance of panning out, it was impossible. You loved to imagine a million versions of a single event in your head, and mostly the worst versions. It clashed with your optimism.

Or maybe that optimism was fading anyway.

You noticed out of the corner of your eye through the window of Hotch's office that Derek, with an expression of obvious defeat written on his face, was giving Penelope a twenty dollar bill as soon as they noticed you two. Penelope had just won a bet of sorts and you felt disbelief, but at the same time a smile was also trying to creep up on your lips. You squeezed Spencer's hand imperceptibly tighter. For a moment you were distracted and focused on Morgan and Garcia. You didn't bring it up, it was just a little stupidity between them, one of many

Your relationship wasn't a big obstacle as long as it didn't affect the team's work, your cooperation in the field, or involve showing romantic feelings at work. 'And no intimate contact!' He even emphasized that a few times, but in an even more professional way. Not that you had any plans and you were an adult, so you shouldn't have been nervous, yet your cheeks and nose suddenly became more rosy. It ended with a few signatures and sending you out of the office with nothing. Overall he said that as long as you are happy, it's good. He went back to talking on the phone and reporting, which were more important to him at the time than such problems with agents.

You and Spencer were there for each other.

Everything seemed pretty fine until the headache and sleep problems came. And after it another headache and another headache. Sleep problems were nothing new, they happened every once in a while, but then they became more frequent. You thought it was temporary, caused by stress and fatigue, maybe not drinking enough water and being slightly dehydrated, but it only got worse. Often and routinely. The medication didn't help much, and the tests, head and brain scans showed nothing.

Spencer was almost going crazy thinking that this was early schizophrenia, some stage of the disease and he would end up like his own mother, which was his biggest nightmare. The knowledge that in a dozen or so years he might not remember anything, only have flashes of what he knew, become useless. He wanted to use his full potential. He was supposed to be a genius, to come up with something that would help slow down the progression of his mother's disease, not a useless piece of crap whose life would slip through his fingers because of the cavities in his head.

It had nothing to do with schizophrenia at the end of the day, but it was problematic enough. They were migraines, strong and painful migraines. They didn't seem dangerous in a long run, were not comparable in terms of potential danger to anything related to the disorder he suspected, however they were difficult for Spencer and he was clearly suffering, the sight that broke your heart.

You didn't want to see him like this, you wanted to do everything to make him feel better. You weren't an expert in medicine, but you used the comforting methods you knew to make him feel at least a little better, a little more mundane than the medical ones. You stayed at his apartment a lot more often, slept there a lot more often, to be completely sure about his pain, to help him through sleepless nights, to provide him with some peace. At one point, you practically lived there. Despite your sincere efforts, compresses, warm teas, kisses on the head and careful massaging of his temples, it wasn't enough, maybe it just helped slightly. You really tried and he knew it too, sometimes he even thought and mentioned, that he didn't deserve you.

You wanted to find someone who knew about these kinds of conditions. You knew that Spencer had more contacts and connections because he was in the scientific community, so he could do more, he could take care of himself, but you wanted to do something too. You spent your nights just to find a doctor, a scientist, anyone. This situation wasn't good for you either. Almost every time you worried about Spencer, it took its toll on you. The nerves and helplessness became overwhelming. You yourself experienced headaches, but you just clenched your teeth. It was from exhaustion and you wouldn't admit it. Spencer thought you didn't have to do it, to sacrifice and worry so much, he always reminded you of that.

You were there for him, nothing new.

Wait, sweetheart.

You know you weren't the only one anymore? Really, no one told you?

You were about to give up, thinking that there was no point in searching any longer. More frustration than concern flowed through you. Mostly frustration with yourself. But you found it. You had it. You found a geneticist who could help. You felt enlightened and filled with hope. You hadn't felt this kind of hope in a long time.

There she was.

Dr. Maeve Donovan

You felt convinced, you had a feeling she would be the solution to Spencer's problems. He had no doubts when you suggested that Maeve look at the scans. You sent them by email, but you didn't go into why that was the right way for her. It wasn't your business after all. She had reviewed Spencer's MRI scans of brain, partly to help, partly out of pure scientific interest, he was a brilliant mind after all. Unlike other doctors, she saw the solution in these headaches and sleeping problems. After a few weeks of analysis, she wrote everything down, including recommendations and a prescription for some medications that you knew a little about because of how immersed you were in the whole topic of migraines, insomnia, and even paranoid schizophrenia, despite everything, Spencer knew more about these meds.

Months passed. I guess. You were losing count. Something was wrong and you knew it. Not with Spencer, he was slowly getting better and was in less and less pain, he didn't wake up at night as often and he wasn't in more pain during the day. You were relieved to see your beloved getting better, the meds were working, and he was regaining his nerdy drive and commitment to everything. It was a precious sight you had been waiting for.

So you should have been happy, it was wiser not to dig anything up. You didn't have a habit of behaving like that. Since Soencer was acting strange at least, you had to find out what was going on and why he wasn't telling you. He always trusted you, he told you everything, and if he didn't say something, he still mentioned the situation. Now he was avoiding anything that could be related to his behavior. He was nervous, as if stressed, sometimes he would suddenly disappear at Sundays and come back after a few minutes without a word. Later he was a bit concerned, but he tried to get back to reality. And later he would even sneak out during work, when you were with the team in the field. Sometimes you'd see notes and a pen left around his apartment, like he was writing letters. You never tried to read them, but you felt a pang in your heart.

Your intuition wasn't some great mechanism, but it wasn't stupid either. You saw him get even more worked up one afternoon. That was when Maeve told him she loved him. But you were so blissfully unaware that you were in that position. Spencer wasn't a cheater, that much was for sure. He froze for a moment after hearing those words, but he didn't answer her. He thought about what to do with this new awareness, he thought a lot.

When, during one of the cases, after Spencer had a quick conversation with Blake, she gave him a ride somewhere, you felt like something was happening completely behind your back. At least Alex already knew what was going on after she confronted him near the telephone booth. And so she promised him she wouldn't tell anyone, so you remained in unconsciousness. Unconsciousness that was no longer blissful.

And then you saw a book wrapped carefully in ribbon in Spencer's apartment, even if Spencer wasn't particularly artistic. You didn't look in there. You didn't know if it would calm down or if you'd find out something you didn't want to know. He didn't even noticed you'd noticed the book, he was behaving the same way as last time. A little nervous, but pretending to be normal. You were also a profiler, he couldn't hide it from you, even if you didn't make a habit of profiling your loved ones, it didn't agree with your morals. Well, you made plenty of exceptions for Spencer, so why should this be any different?

You loved this living room 'cause of the light. As you stood by the bookshelf, staring at the spines of old, yellowed books whose arrangement you already knew by heart, Spencer came up behind you, a slightly sheepish smile on his face. You knew that look on his face. You often cut his hair because he wasn't very comfortable with having a barber do it. He didn't like the feeling of a stranger messing with his hair, it wasn't pleasant in any way, even if most of society disagreed.

“Umm… I’m starting to think I look weird.” He began uncertainly, referring to his hair. “It’s a little too long, I think.”

You stared at him for a moment, your gaze darting between his face and his hair, you smiled. You had thought about proposing a haircut to him a few days ago, but in the end you didn't. The request seemed rather sudden. Finally, you reached out and touched his hair, and he leaned slightly into your touch. He found it a pleasant experience.

"I don't know, I like it. It's not too long yet." You admitted as you focused on his hair and kept running your fingers through it, trying to style it.

"You think so?"

You didn't know why he was so determined about it, or why he cared so much at that time. As if there were already too many strange things happening that you couldn't explain, another one was just happening.

"Yeah, it's fine. Trust me, Spence."

“Okay.” He leaned down and kissed your forehead. This kiss was warm and sincere, as always, but it had a slightly different tone than what he usually gave, more... apologizing? What the hell did he have to apologize for?

You didn't bring up the subject of hair again. You didn't know, but Alex had told him that his hair was fine the way it was and it wouldn't affect what Maeve thought. It would be funny if you were the one who cut his hair to meet her. And your eyes kept returning to the white cover and the ribbon - The narrative of John Smith

You thought you were stupid, that you were really just making up a story to yourself because you were too bored, that it was just your stupid overthinking and nothing was happening, you were drawing too many conclusions and adding a story to everything. You thought you were crazy, that something was wrong with you. You should have been happy that Spencer was no longer suffering and in pain, not making up events that you had no idea about.

What if you were right?

While at work one day that seemed as normal as any other, except for the constant doubts in the back of your mind, you saw Spencer briskly walk to Hotch's office without a word. He was there longer than you expected, which certainly didn't comfort you. And then you were all in the bullpen, around Spencer, whose voice was breaking.

"... He thinks he'll get away with this and he might." He stared at the floor and didn't look up. "I have a wealth of knowledge I should be applying to this case. Behavioral patterns of violent stalkers, tactical recovery strategies, victim survival odds. But right now I can't focus on anything for more than four seconds at a time, which makes me the dumbest person in the room." All eyes were fixed on him, it was an unexpected situation. "So... please help me. Help me find her."

Sometimes you felt small glances at you. You clenched your hand on the edge of the desk. You weren't even mad. You felt your stomach drop. Maeve, same Maeve. How could all this be happening so close to you and you were so stupid? You didn't say anything, just like everyone else. The difference was that the others were taken aback, surprised, but you were just numb.

After a moment, Hotch spoke up, even his tone of voice was a little different than usual. "We don't know if we have a case. So we'll be working on personal time. Does anybody want to leave?"

Silence.

You swallowed hard, but did nothing. You didn't leave, you stood there, leaning against the desk. It seemed impossible. This was all a bad dream. If nothing happened, then you weren't betrayed, right? Still, your heart ached. Your heart ached for another reason. You couldn't even feel angry because you were more concerned with his trembling, cracking voice. What the hell was wrong with you. What was even worse was that Spencer didn't have the courage to look at you. His gaze wandered, staring at the floor, his gaze meeting everything and everyone but you.

"Good. Let's get to work."

Soon, you were sitting at the same round table as always. All of their letters in front of you. The same written pages that you had seen in Spencer's apartment, but that you had never touched. You hadn't spoken to him since his confession and plea for help. You should have occupied yourself with the fact that this was about the life of an innocent woman, approached it professionally, but you couldn't. Looking at these letters, holding them in your hands and reading them, you pressed your lips into a line. You didn't share your thoughts or observations. In fact, you didn't have any, because all the letters merged into one, and you weren't able to think deeper.

Spencer was clearly taking it, looking worse than he had during any stressful case, worse than he had during any other stressful event. And you wanted to help him, or take him aside and talk to him. But he didn't seem to have a clear head to talk. What were you supposed to do anyway? Comfort him? You were the first loved one, it wasn't fair to you. Who said feelings were fair? Were you supposed to yell at him? In his condition, it wouldn't do any good anyway, and you'd only say too many words because of how you felt now.

He was angry, he didn't behave rationally, he stretched all possible theories. You had never seen Spencer like this, so emotional.

And you thought he was emotional when you were shot in the stomach during one of the cases five, maybe four years ago.

You remember his panic, your hot, scarlet blood on his hands, the pressure of his hand on your stomach where the bullet was and the tears in his eyes. And you smiled slightly at him, you don't know why, but you weren't even scared. You didn't feel any pain, because of the adrenaline in your body. You lost so much blood at the same time that you started to feel blissful, maybe that's why you weren't afraid. He acted like a hothead, and you thought there was no need to panic.

He sat in the hospital all night, right under the operating room, when you were being operated on. For several days he sat in the hospital almost constantly, slept on those uncomfortable chairs and showed you the greatest care. He was the first person you saw after waking up. The team and the nurses practically had to drag him away from the room and the hospital.

He brought you everything that could help you recover faster and smuggled in some snacks when you made pretty eyes, although according to the regulations he shouldn't do that. He explained that he wasn't doing it because it was your whim, but because after losing so much blood you should eat chocolate to normalize. You knew that wasn't his intention, but you appreciated the clever excuse.

It doesn't change the fact that you lost a part of yourself back then.

But his behavior back then was nothing like what he was now. A nervous wreck. He wanted to do everything in his power to save Maeve. How could you have known they were in touch? You thought that after the meds were prescribed, it was over. But no, she had sent him a letter praising his article on psychology. You tried to work on it, like everyone else, you really did, but you felt like shit. Maybe she was what he had always been looking for? They were interested in similar things, had similar topics and knowledge in different areas. Maybe you were just too stupid for the long term, didn't have that much to offer.

Weren't you his love by any chance?

Anyway, you didn't even talk. You didn't bring yourself to talk, you didn't look at him. The team's hard work had paid off, even if the atmosphere was tense and heavy. You were supposed to find Maeve, find out where Diane was holding her. Diane had already killed Bobby, Donovan's ex-fiancé. After her efforts, Garcia discovered where both women could be. Hotch absolutely forbade Spencer from showing up at the scene, but Spencer clearly protested. He wanted to pretend to Diane what he felt for Maeve - love.

After those words, you really felt like nothing.

You no longer showed him the same sweet support you always did, you couldn't, but by not giving up on your help you also made it clear that you wouldn't just abandon him. Despite the lack of contact between you, you devoted your nights to this matter, you slept worse than usual and drank more coffee. Don't kid yourself, you didn't really sleep because you were thinking about your relationship. Was it real or was it your imagination? You weren't working, you were consumed by thoughts and you were losing all of yourself in it.

So you were there for him, well, more for his cause, but for him.

Outskirts of town. Spencer entered the old, abandoned building first. None of you thought it was a good idea, but you didn't stop him. You felt the pain in this whole situation, and you were even more afraid of something happening to him. Well, it was because you loved him. You didn't know if he loved you the same anymore. You couldn't even think about 'no'. You were exhausted for the past few days.

You waited there impatiently, not knowing what was going on inside. At least you didn't see that fake kiss between Diane and Spencer. You knew it would be wiser to step in there, so that's what you did. They tried to keep you at a distance, to the side, so you wouldn't do anything stupid under the influence of emotions. Spencer tried to negotiate with Diane, who was holding a terrified Maeve, while with her other hand she was holding a gun to her own temple. You kept your cool, just like Spencer, but you could see his nervousness.

"He's the one thing you can never take from us." You heard Maeve's last, quiet words, and then a noise.

A bang, a screech in your ears, and a large, spreading stain of blood on the floor. Both women lying on the cold floor, their hair in dark blood, and a gun nearby. You looked at Spencer, who was rooted to the ground, with tears in his eyes. He quickly approached the lying, still warm Maeve. The bullet flew through the head of one and stopped in the head of the other. There was nothing left to save from the shot brain. Spencer's beloved was currently bleeding out in his arms, his hands were completely covered in sticky blood, and tears were running down his cheeks, staining her pale skin and face, from which the life had gone.

Everyone was in shock, no one made a move or said anything. Tears welled up in your own eyes. Partly because of how Spencer felt, how tragic his condition was, partly because you only just realized what was happening. He was crying hard over the body of another woman, whispering quiet words to her, hoping she would hear them, even though it was a foolish hope. He was too stunned to do anything at that point, so you walked up to them, her blood was also on your hands, you thought you could still save her yourself, even though there was no chance of that.

He helped her parents bury her. He was there until the end... in fact, he was there even longer. Everyone else had gone, and he was left at the grave. No, he wasn't there alone. He was there with you. You helped him in everything. You loved him and watched him bury and mourn his beloved woman. He hadn't slept in many nights, his eyes were red and his face was drawn and sunken, and he had probably lost weight. He didn't remember much of the ceremony, he was numb and had been on sedatives for several days.

Days passed, and attempts to contact Spencer were in vain, he wasn't at work, he didn't answer his phone. You went to the staircase of his apartment, to the tenement house where he lived. You'd sometimes pass JJ or Blake going up or down the same stairs. You knew the stairs by heart by now, and every time you went on the second floor up them it only got worse. Penelope left more baskets of food and necessary things by his door. Eventually they disappeared, he had to take them when no one was there, he had to survive somehow, not leaving the apartment.

You couldn't handle it, but you tried not to show it. Despite that, the rest seemed to notice your suffering. They certainly did, knowing how close you were. Suddenly you felt betrayed, rejected. What the fuck was that? You were always there for him, always, you loved him, he seemed to love you sincerely too. And in the end, he suffered because of the loss of another woman. How did she achieve this so quickly? You wanted to be understanding, but you didn't know how. You had the right to hate him, but you didn't do that either. You were left empty.

Without optimism, without a spark in the eyes, without what you started with.

You knocked on his door again, even though you had a feeling it wouldn't make much difference. Your voice was loud enough to be heard, but tired.

"You know Spencer, it's me again." You started uncertainly, having to think about every word so as not to say something stupid. It was a delicate situation. After a moment, you continued. "I just want to know how you're holding up." You leaned toward the dark, wooden door with a small plaque with the number 23.

You heard faint movements and rustling on the other side of the door, but no response. You sighed quietly. "Maybe you don't want to talk to anyone. Okay, I'm not forcing you. I think I look a little stupid talking to the door, though."

Suddenly you heard the sound of the lock turning in the door. The door opened slowly, as if he was wondering if he wanted to open it. Finally you saw him in the doorway, dressed in a thick sweater, deep in mourning. His eyes were bloodshot, his hair uncombed. The curtains in the apartment were drawn, and it was a general mess, which you could only see because of what you could see behind him, in the back of the apartment. "Hey." He was barely holding on.

You wanted to help him, to be there for him again, but you no longer felt entitled to do so. He stepped aside, wordlessly inviting you into the apartment. You immediately opened one of the windows, not much, just enough so that the fresh air would make him feel better. You repeated your previous question. You were standing close to him, but at a safe distance. "How are you feeling?" You asked in a soft voice with your typical concern.

"Not so well." He answered shortly, he didn't have the strength to talk.

You didn't push. Hell, you couldn't even talk to him. It was almost like you were standing there with a stranger, not with the man, you loved so much. The light you loved so much was gone from this room. It was almost completely dark. The air was thick with lose and indecision.

He walked over to you, more tears flowing from his eyes. Suddenly you were his support again. He hadn't really cried in days, he just didn't have the strength anymore. Seeing you made him realize everything he had done. He clung to you like you were his last lifeline, he clung to no one else but you. You heard his sobbing and some quiet words, you didn't even understand what they were, there were tears in your eyes too, but you didn't hug him like you usually did.

On the corner of the table, the same book was lying again, this time without the brown ribbon. You were lucky you didn't see the dedication inside. It would have destroyed you even more. Love is our true destiny. We do not find the meaning of life by ourselves alone; we find it with another.

He cried on your shoulder, and you pressed your lips together to keep from falling apart. Why did he even feel entitled to this, why did he keep leaning on you? You felt like screaming. You really wanted to scold him, but it probably wasn't appropriate at the time.

Again you were there for him, it was always you at the end of the day.

The atmosphere at work was tense, heavy. Everyone seemed to be behaving normally, but it wasn't like usual. No one talked to you about the incident anymore, except maybe Penelope, who as always tried to talk to you, to make you feel a little relieved, brought you those herbal, sweet teas with syrups that you loved. She didn't delve into the subject, so as not to drag out your own pain, she skirted the subject all the time. Basically, everyone was tiptoeing around you, which irritated you. Damn, you didn't want any forced pity.

A few weeks passed, Spencer went back to work, but you didn't talk more than necessary and everyone noticed the changes between you. You became colder, distant. After all, your relationship wasn't supposed to affect the team's work. But was it even a relationship anymore?

You bit your nails, picked at the cuticles around your nails, scratched off the polish. You clenched your fists, dug your nails into your palms, leaving indentations in the shape of half moons on the palms of your hands. Every morning you looked at him with a storm in your eyes, and he didn't notice the signals you were sending him.

You had to talk to him, there was no other way. He had avoided you during Maeve's case and the funeral, and after that you had only had this one, harmless conversation because you didn't want to overwhelm him with more things right away. But now you were the one who was overwhelmed. You cared about his well-being, but not your own. It had always been like that, you were mainly concerned about him, even if it was ultimately overwhelming for you.

Was it worth it? Because I don't think so.

Having a free moment, you approached him and approached him. You wondered if you should do it or just back off, but your tongue got the better of you and the words came out. "We should talk."

He immediately turned to you. He knew this conversation would come, but somehow he wasn't ready for it. But he also knew how much worry and pain he had caused you, he couldn't put it off forever and keep running away. Grief wasn't an excuse. "Fine."

You found a spot in the hallway, a little more private, far enough away so you wouldn't be conspicuous through the glass doors. No one in the bullpen needed to hear your conversation or see what you did. You didn't promise predictability.

You could see he wanted to start calmly, like it always was between you, but you started abruptly first. "Spencer, what was that all about?"

He wasn't looking at you again, suddenly the floor seemed much more interesting. "What does that mean?"

"Don't suddenly act stupid, you're not stupid and unintelligent. What was wrong with our relationship?" You play brave, tough. You play because you don't feel that way.

He looked up, his lips pressed into a line. “Nothing. Everything was fine.” His answers were distant.

You shook your head slightly. “Spencer, talk to me, I don’t want any half-spells. You know what, I would expect this from anyone, anyone, but you."

He let you down, he let you down and that hurt him the most. He wasn't what you deserved. "I'm sorry." You could feel the shame in his voice but you didn't want shame or an apology because there was nothing left to save.

"I don't want your sorry. I gave you all my best me's, my endless empathy. I didn't expect anything in return, not even though I got your feelings in return, I'm not saying I didn't, I won't lie. But how did you replace me so easily?" And your bravery quickly crumbled, and tears appeared in your eyes, you blinked a few times.

Silence.

"Do something, say something! You won't lose anything anyway." You were starting to get angry. This was the first time you had been angry at him like this and you had allowed yourself to be angry. "Because what else can you lose?" Maybe you should have kept your mouth shut and not said that. It sucks, it happens.

He swallowed hard. "You. I could lose you." He knew those words wouldn't do much now, but he tried anyway.

"Oh, you're just now thinking about this? And where, excuse me, were you earlier?! Sorry I forgot, in a phone booth. And you didn't see my gray face, how sick we've become, and if you noticed, you wouldn't admit it." You didn't mince your words, you deserved to be genuinely mad.

"I..."

You should have let him talk, you should have, but you didn't. "No, listen to me! You acted like the biggest, selfish asshole and I don't know what you were thinking!" He had never seen you so upset with him, but he didn't interrupt. "What did you miss, what did I miss?"

He deserved those words, he knew he deserved them. He didn't even try to argue, he accepted the harsh words. It hurt him more when he heard your question. "No, no, you didn't lack anything. It's my fault and I'm really sorry. You were so good and sweet to me, it's all my fault." He didn't want to lose you too, but he worked for it.

"You can't change anything, beating yourself up now won't change anything... Spence." You hesitated to address him that way at all. You weren't as loud as you had been a few seconds ago, but I guess he preferred it that way. It was easier for him to accept your anger and the hurling of insults than the disappointment in your voice. And that was exactly what was in your voice - disappointment.

He looked almost like a beaten puppy. "I know, I realize that." He thought for a moment; he wasn't in the habit of swearing. "I screwed up."

"Yes, and I don't deny it. I really thought you'd be honest. I wish I had known from the beginning, maybe it would have been easier." You had tears in your eyes, but you couldn't be stupid enough to cry. "I thought it was honest. My own pain was such an imposition."

He reached out and ran his hand through the hair on top of your head. He didn't want to scare you, to do something you wouldn't like, he held his hand there for a moment. "It wasn't an imposition, don't think like that. And you shouldn't have known this from the start, in fact I shouldn't have done it at the first."

You wanted to ask what Maeve had that you didn't, but you didn't even have the courage. You pulled his hand away from your hair. "Those are nice words, but we both know you can't take back your actions, which said something completely different." You bit the inside of your cheek until you finally spoke again. "You're losing me."

He didn't blame you for rejecting his hand, he understood that perfectly well, you had every right to avoid him, but he still felt a pang. He shook his head slightly. "No, don't say that, please."

"But it's over, Spence. You kind of decided that yourself. I'm really sorry she's gone, but helping with a case like hers is one thing, and love is another. I know you and I saw, well... that." You didn't want to bring up the brutal murder directly. "That's what love looked like."

For a moment you stood in silence, he couldn't deny it and you didn't know what to say. Without a word you turned around and started walking down the hallway towards the glass doors, a few tears in your eyes balanced between your lash line and the corners of your eyes.

Spencer lost something again, but you were no longer there for him.

See? I told you so.

You know what they all say, you don't know what you got until it's gone.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fic #spencer reid #spencer reid x gn!reader #spencer x reader #matthew gray gubler #mgg #gublernation #angst #angst with a sad ending

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ssa-atlas-alvez · 11 months ago

Note

Hello, hope you are having a good day/night

I was wondering if I could request a BAU Team/maybe a little Spencer x Male x assassin

Who now works for the BAU, they are really good at stealth and undercover as if it's breathing air, they want a semblance of normalcy using the skills they were taught for good, but they can't hide, they can't run forever their past will haunt them come for them when they least expect it. (Note: reader has scars/ reader has a crush on Spencer but is afraid of how he would react if Spencer knew the real them) Prompt: to hell and back

This request is over a year old surely, im so sorry!

This a rare one folks, it's over 1k words lol. I hope you like it! I really enjoyed writing it!

Warnings: blood, injuries, scars, stabbing, reader stabs someone, use of the word paranoid/paranoia, a few curse words, reader doesn't even get their dinner :(

They only ever saw you with long sleeves. They knew a rough outline of your previous life, no details. You signed a contract to keep the details of your previous life quiet. Only Strauss knew. You had worked as an assassin for the government for five long years, training rigorously before that for two. When leaving that life, you were given a new identity, (Y/N) (L/N).

It had taken it’s toll, sometimes your knees creaked, your wrist seized up, sometimes old wounds hurt. But ultimately, when needed, you moved silently. You knew that you wouldn’t be able to hide forever, that eventually your past would catch up to you. And so, you were hesitant to try to get close with your team. You liked them (perhaps liked one member a little too much), and you knew they liked you. But you knew first hand that traitors could come from within.

You weren’t sure when, exactly, you developed a ‘crush’ (which was a word you refused to admit outloud) on Spencer. But soon enough the sight of him was enough for butterflies to swarm your stomach and your breath to hitch. You had never regretted your previous decision to take your original line of work, until those butterflies appeared. You knew it would never happen. That you and him could never be a thing. Because he was pure, and you were… tainted. You had done unimaginable things that would make any sane person run in the opposite direction.

Not only would he run for hills if he found out what you had done, but then there were the scars. You had been injured more than once during your line of duty. They weren’t exactly something you were fond of. So, you wore long sleeves, trousers. Never short sleeves, never shorts. Not even outside of work when you were out and about. The only time you ever did was when you were at home.

It is possible to say that, over the years at the BAU, the paranoia lessened. You were no longer convinced that every unfamiliar agent was someone from your past looking for revenge. That was your biggest mistake.

You had seen a new face around the bullpen, you had been with the BAU three years now, without incident. And you knew that new recruits had been hired recently. So, you thought nothing of it.

A few weeks went by without incident, just proving that everything was fine. You were just being paranoid.

Until one night, you realised it wasn’t paranoia. You were walking back from the chinese takeout around the corner from your apartment when you were pulled back and down an alleyway. He managed to stab you before you got hold of the knife, twisting his grip and stabbing him. You glared at him, twisting the knife before removing it. You repeated the motion once more before throwing the knife into the dumpster just to your right and shoving the ‘agent’ to the ground.

Food forgotten, you took a breath. You couldn’t go back to your apartment, it was clear they knew where you lived, they had been following you for some time. You ground your teeth, increasing the pressure you placed on your stab wound. Spencer. He lived close by. And with the thought, you set off.

It took you about ten minutes of staggering in the rain and scared looks for strangers before you reached his block. You stumbled up the stairs, pausing when you reached Spencer’s door and knocked loudly.

Please be in, please be in.

The door swung open.

“What the fuck?” Spencer asked, staring at you wide eyed.

You clutched your hand against your stomach tighter, “I didn’t have anywhere else to go.” And with that, collapsed.

You came to a few minutes later, now sprawled out on Spencer’s couch. “You need to go to the hospital.” Spencer said, pressing a handful of gauze against your wound.

You shake your head, forcing yourself to sit up against your elbows. “No.” You choked out, wincing again.

“(Y/N), you’ve been stabbed-”

“I’m fine.” You muttered, “No hospitals.”

He watched you for a few seconds. “I’m calling Hotch.” He said, dialling before you could argue.

You groaned, forcing yourself to sit up properly. “Spence-” You’re not quite sure when you started calling him Spence. It just came naturally after a while.

The entirety of the team was there within ten minutes. When Spencer opened the door, they immediately sensed something was wrong.

“(Y/N)’s been stabbed.” He rushes the words out and immediately heads back to the couch. Only to find you forcing yourself upright.

You needed to leave. They were going to find out, everything was going to be revealed. Not only would that break the contract you signed for Strauss, but it would put them in danger. It would put Spencer in danger.

“You need to lay back down.” Hotch said as Spencer helped (forced) you back down.

“I’m fine.” You grumbled.

“We need to cut the shirt away, we need to make sure there’s no other injuries and it’s soaked through.” Rossi chimed, handing a pair of scissors to Spencer.

“No, Spencer-”

Morgan gently pushed you back down. “Will you just let us help you?”

You sighed, feeling the cold air bite at your skin as your shirt was cut away. The team collectively gasped at your scars, the red of your blood only emphasising the white of the scars that covered your body.

You distantly heard Prentiss on the phone with 911. This wasn’t exactly going to plan. You turned to look at Hotch, “You need to tell Strauss.” You said firmly. “Strauss needs to know- ow.” You gave a soft hiss as Morgan took over holding the gauze to the wound.

“I need- I need a second.” Spencer mumbled, standing up and making his way to the bathroom. Presumably to wash his hands. At least, that’s what you would do. Ah shit, there was going to be blood everywhere.

“Did I get blood on the couch?” You asked, craning your neck and attempting to twist your body to check.

“Can you just sit still?” Morgan huffed.

JJ watches Spencer leave with a concerned gaze before following him into the bathroom. “Spence, you need to breathe. He’s going to be okay.” JJ said softly, giving him a small smile. Spencer nodded, taking a deep breath.

“You’re right.” Spencer said, raking a hand over his face. “At the very least he’s stubborn.”

“Exactly.” She said, “He’s going to be okay.”

“He’s covered in scars, JJ.” Spencer whispered quietly. “What happened to him?”

“I don’t know.” She said, “Let’s worry about that later, okay? Let’s focus on helping him now. Everything else can wait.”

“I like him.”

“I know Spence.”

“I really like him.”

"I know you do." JJ smiled, squeezing his arm slightly. "Come on, let's go check on him - make sure Morgan's not trying to kill him."

Spencer gave a quiet laugh, following JJ back to the lounge.

"Will you just sit still?" Morgan huffed.

"You're so bossy." You muttered under your breath, blinking slowly.

"You're literally bleeding, shut up and accept the help." Morgan resorted. You huffed in response, but stopped trying to get up, once again.

"Paramedics are one minute out." Prentiss updated after thanking the dispatcher.

You blinked, the adrenaline slowly wearing off, accompanied by the familiar blood-loss tiredness. You shifted your eyes, focusing on Spencer as the world around you blurred before going dark.

#criminal minds #aaron hotchner #criminal minds fanfiction #derek morgan #spencer reid #male reader #david rossi #emily prentiss #x male reader #jennifer jj jareau #spencer reid x male reader #spencer reid x reader #x reader #reader #bau x reader #bau x male reader

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allieslittlewritings · 10 months ago

Text

*not my gif <3

Comfort

Aaron Hotchner x Teen!Reid!Reader

Summary: Hotch comforts Spencer's daughter when she's worried about her dad

Set in: Season 14 Episode 1 "300"

Warnings: Reader is worried about Spencer, mentions of a parent hypothetically dying, hints of self-deprecation

A/n: what i'd give to see Hotch in the later seasons :(

When you were little and your dad was in danger, the team kept it from you as long as they could.

The older you got, the more difficult it was for them to lie or stretch the truth.

By now you were too old for them to not tell you.

They spared you the details of the actual situation.

You just knew Spencer was abducted, and, therefore, there was a chance he wasn't coming back alive.

You wondered if this was it.

If this would finally be the time your dad didn't make it out on the other side of a life threatening situation.

You waited at the BAU and sat by your dad's desk, wondering if that desk would belong to someone else in a few months, maybe years.

Hotch exited his office and slowly walked towards you.

He saw the emotionless expression on your face and his heart sank.

"Hey," He said softly.

You didn't reply.

He walked closer to you and leaned against your dad's desk.

"You can talk to me, you know that right?" He said.

The feeling of guilt had started to build up in his throat.

Maybe if he'd been more careful, or more observant, this wouldn't have happened.

You waited a minute before speaking. "You know, even with everything he's been through there's still this weird thing in my head that convinces me he'll be okay."

"He might." Sugar coating things wouldn't help you right now.

"But he might not." You finally looked at him with glassy eyes.

A quiet, bitter chuckle left your lips.

Not becuase anything was humorous, you simply couldn't believe this was happening again.

"I don't know what I'd do without him, Hotch." Your voice shook as you spoke.

"You're not supposed to," Hotch said. "I know that does little to comfort you. I wish there was something I could say to make it better but there isn't."

"This shouldn't happen to people. And I don't mean me, I mean... hasn't he been through enough? Even if he survives, physically. One person can only handle so much."

"Your dad is strong, and he has you to remind him why he has to keep going."

"What if I'm not enough to make life feel worth it to him?" You asked, your voice cracking.

"Enough?" He asked, shocked. "Y/N, on every bad day I've seen your dad have, when he gets to go home and see you, I can see the weight on his shoulders ease. You've been enough for him to keep going since the day you were born. Hell, even before you were born."

You didn't bother fighting against the sobs begging to be released anymore.

"Come here," Hotch said softly, opening his arms.

You gave in and let him hold you while you sobbed.

He wasn't a very touchy person usually, but he felt differently about that when it came to certain people, and you were one of them.

Hotch swore to himself then that if your dad didn't make it back, he would always be there for you.

You would never be alone as long as he was around.

★

You sat in Aaron's office after that.

He didn't go with the others when they went to hopefully bring Spencer back, choosing to stay with you instead.

You sat on the couch in his office, a book you had only read three pages of open in front of you.

Hotch saw your eyes start to falter.

"You should get some rest, Y/N."

"No, I need to be awake when they get back." You insisted.

"I'll wake you up," Hotch assured you.

"Promise?"

"I promise."

You lay down on the couch and eventually fell asleep. Aaron went to get you a blanket and carefully covered you with it.

★

"Y/N." Hotch shook you awake. "Your dad's almost here."

You quickly sat up, "He's okay?"

"Yeah. He's in the elevator now, he'll be up in a minute."

Relieved tears welled up in your eyes.

"Thank you," You whispered, leaning forward to hug him.

"For what?"

"Being here." You said quietly. "And whatever you did that helped get him back."

Hotch tightened his hold on you, "I'll always be here, Y/N."

fin. ♡

#aaron hotchner x teen!reader #aaron hotchner x child!reid!reader #teen!reader #aaron hotchner #reid!reader #criminal minds #fanfiction #allieslittlewritings ★

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xvazx · 2 months ago

Text

The Beauty of Our Chaos

Part 11 - Cold Feet

Prev. Part / Next Part

The door creaked open softly. I didn’t need to look up—I knew the shuffle of their shoes, the way Kaylee always dropped her purse too loud, the little humming Mariel did when she had sugar in her system.

“Babe?” Mariel’s voice was gentle as she sat on the edge of my bed.

Kaylee hovered in the doorway before walking in with a pint of cookie dough and a plastic spoon.

They took one look at my red eyes and didn’t ask questions—not right away.

Mariel lightly touched my hair, brushing it back from my damp cheek. “What happened?”

I exhaled, sitting up a little. “It went to hell.”

So I told them—everything. The way Luigi brought up those rumors, how he wrapped his questions in charm and curiosity but made me feel like a case file. How he tried to research my life like it needed decoding.

“I just…” I wiped under my eyes. “What if I overreacted?”

“You didn’t.” Kaylee sat cross-legged at the foot of the bed, her face serious for once. “He took a bad approach.”

“But he’s not wrong about one thing,” I admitted quietly. “Nobody here really knows anything about me. Mostly Mariel.”

“And it took me months to gain your trust,” Mariel said with a nod. “You’re not a glass cabinet. You’re allowed to have boundaries.”

“It’s just… I thought maybe this one would be different,” I whispered. “And I was this close to letting my guard all the way down.”

Kaylee leaned forward, flicking me on the forehead. “You could be an alien and I’d still defend you. You’re the coolest chick I’ve ever met. Martian or not.”

I gave her a small, watery smile. “Thanks, Kay.”

“Anyway,” I muttered, rubbing at my eyes again, “I think that’s it. I knew it would crash eventually. Too good, too fast.”

“Let it cool for a while,” Mariel suggested. “You’re both too heated to talk right now. Give it time.”

Kaylee grabbed the paper bag and pulled out more pints of ice cream, all slightly melty.

“And in the meantime,” she said, offering me one of them, “we eat our feelings.”

Great.

“Should we add Criminal Minds to the healing plan?” Mariel asked, already rising from the bed. “I say Gubler-directed episodes only.”

Perfect.

“Now that is dirty talk,” I joked, finally cracking a real smile.

Kaylee scrunched her nose. “Are those the scary ones?”

“Oh babe,” I said, standing up and taking the ice cream from her. “They’re absolutely the scary ones. Come on.”

We migrated to the TV room. Mariel queued up an episode, and soon enough, we were half crying, half gasping as the BAU solved impossible cases with creepy UnSubs.

“Okay but seriously,” Kaylee said between bites of mint chip, “Reid is too hot to be fictional. It’s unfair.”

“Indeed,” Mariel chimed in, “men are not made like that.”

“Watch it girls,” I said, licking rainbow sherbet from my spoon and using it as a weapon to point at the girls. “I love you but is my man you are thirsting over.”

Midway through episode two, the inevitable came up.

“So… tomorrow,” Mariel started, avoiding eye contact. “Are you gonna be okay?”

I sighed. “The con wedding?”

“Yeah.” She bit her lip.

“Still banned from the social event of the semester,” I said sarcastically.

“It’s so dumb,” Kaylee said with a mouthful of ice cream. “You helped organize half of it and they’re still punishing you for something that’s barely scandalous.”

“Rules are rules,” I said with a shrug, though the bitterness in my voice betrayed me. “Delta Nu can survive without a mildly controversial first year sister.”

There was a long pause. A heavy silence fell over us, one filled with unspoken questions.

“Do you think he’ll try to talk to you?” Kaylee asked gently.

I shrugged. “Probably. But I don’t know if I want to hear it.”

Another silence.

“I mean, what if…” Mariel started cautiously, “What if he tries to apologize, would it change anything?”

I considered it.

Maybe.

Mariel reached for the remote. “Let’s pretend tomorrow doesn’t exist for just one more episode.”

“Make it one with Reid in a vest,” I said.

SATURDAY. 8:00 AM.

The alarm on my phone screamed like a dying robot. I smacked it off the nightstand and buried my face in the pillow for one more second of peace. One second before today’s absurd circus took over my life.

I rolled over, groggy and dry-eyed. Notifications lit up my phone like Times Square—several missed calls from him. I ignored them. No time for drama or apologies this morning. I had a checklist to bulldoze.

I threw on a faded sweater and my most forgiving jeans. No formalities if I was going to stay in my room all night.

As I shuffled into the kitchen, still damp from the fastest shower of my life, I found Georgina already standing at the counter like a soldier.

“Missy wants her matcha,” she explained before I could even ask.

“Don’t forget the weird fat free organic nut milk,” I muttered, opening my laptop. “She swears it will give her that Vampira waistline.”

Georgina snorted. “She says it curbs cortisol. I think she just likes saying ‘cortisol’ in public.”

I tuned her out and dove into the real work. Emails, confirmations, tracking numbers. The money for the charity deposit had come through. The books were scheduled for FedEx delivery.

One by one, I ticked off the boxes.

“Can you check if I get emails?,” I said, grabbing my phone. “I’m going to call the boys.”

Which, of course, meant call him.

I sighed hard and dialed Luigi’s number. He picked up immediately, his voice uncertain—like he wasn’t sure if I was calling to reconcile or report a crime.

“Hey,” he said cautiously. “I—”

“Hi, did you get the chairs, the booze, the tables, the fake rings, and your matching blazers?” I cut him off like a project manager on deadline.

There was a pause. “Yeah. Yeah, we got that.”

“And Missy’s bouquet?”

Another pause. A longer one. “Crap.”

They forgot.

“Perfect.” My voice was flat. “Bye.”

“Wait, I—”

Too late. Someone yanked the phone from my hand.

Missy.

Still in rollers and sipping her matcha like it was a martini, she leaned into the phone with a grin.

“Luigi Mangione, you better not be late this time,” she said in her chirpiest tone. “See you at the altar!”

Then she hung up and turned to me with that smile—the one that always meant she was about to insult me with designer precision.

“Nice jeans,” she said, with the subtle horror of someone witnessing a fashion crime.

“Thanks,” I deadpanned. “Where’s the actor officiant’s number? He’s the only one I haven’t confirmed.”

“He confirmed.” She rolled her eyes.

That was a red flag in bold italics, but I decided to pick my battles. No more drama for now.

12 PM

A few hours later, the pink altar was up and draped in enough chiffon. Cupids, candles, confetti—the full Vegas little chapel dream. The cake arrived. The snack catering team was halfway through setup. I had earned my nonexistent paycheck three times over.

And then, like a pack, the boys arrived with the tables and kegs. I guided them toward the patio, clipboard in hand, trying to suppress the growing tension in my stomach.

And that’s when I felt it.

The soft nudge of a flower against my arm.

I turned.

There he was. Luigi. Holding a single yellow rose.

“Missy clearly said pink,” I said without missing a beat.

“This isn’t hers.” He held it out gently.

I stared at the flower—slightly chilled from the florist fridge, petals curled like shy fists.

“I read that yellow roses are significant in Latin America,” he said while pulling his notes to read with a terrible accent. “Flo-ri-cien-ta, right? Is like your Cinderella”

‘Ella sabia que el sabia, que algun dia pasaria. Que el vendría a buscarla, con sus flores amarillas.’

(She knew, he knew, that one day it would happen. He would look for her, with her yellow flowers.)

He just hit me with nostalgia. Bastard. How am I supposed to stay mad?

“You’re a few months late,” I said flatly, not taking the flower. “And correction, ironically, it’s more like The Sound of Music.”

He hesitated. “Alright, I crossed a line. I know that. It’s just—sometimes I feel like you won’t let me in.”

“And my gut was right,” I said, turning to leave.

He followed and lightly grabbed my arm. “Are you seriously going to ignore me all night?”

I tensed at my seized arm. “Should be easy. I’m not allowed at the wedding.”

“What?” he pulled me closer.

“Yeah. Turns out, me going to your bachelor party compromised my membership in Delta Nu,” I said, voice sharp. “I’m suspended.”

His face dropped, stunned. But before he could respond—

“And you’re about to earn your second strike.”

Missy.

She appeared like a banshee in full glam: fake lashes, spray tan, and those big curls.

“You really are a full-time whore,”

Ya estuvo bueno. (I’ve had enough with you.)

I stepped toward her—but someone beat me to it.

“Missy stop, we’ve all had enough with your tantrums.” he confessed, holding onto his last straw of patience.

“Tantrums?!” her voice reached decibels only dogs could hear. “I’m protecting the image we need to portray.”

This bitch is crazy.

“Are you actually delusional enough to think this whole circus is real?” Luigi snapped. “I only agreed to do this because is my duty as president.”

Everyone froze. The air felt electric.

Missy blinked. “God! Can’t you see? Campus loves us. We’re perfect…”

And then… her voice faltered.

Her face turned pale, almost green. Her eyes lost focus.

“Are you okay?”

I stepped forward just as her body went limp. She blacked out in front of all of us. I caught her mid-collapse, her body shock-stiff and ice cold.

“Ayudame” I yelled. Luigi rushed to my side and grabbed her shoulders. (Help me)

We laid her on the couch as people swarmed like ants. Bella, Julia, all the sisters.

“Missy,” Bella said, gently tapping her face. “Can you hear me?”

She blinked slowly. “What… happened?”

“You fainted,” I said.

She blinked again, processed the situation, then gave me the dirtiest look she could muster.

“I’m fine,” she mumbled, trying to stand.

“You should get checked out,” Julia said, concerned.

“Shut up! I’m fine!” she barked.

“You really don’t look fine,” I said cautiously.

“I swear to God, if you keep talking—” she started to yell.

But then…Boom.

She threw up. Every-thing

Right on the white rug. Right in front of everyone.

“A la madre.” I took a step back. (Fucking hell)

A collective gasp rippled through the room. Kaylee squealed. Damien let out a chuckle.

“I’m taking you to the clinic,” Bella said, already grabbing her. “Julia, come on.”

I stood there, dazed, as they carried Missy like a dizzy pageant queen. The room buzzed in confusion and awkward murmurs.

“Well,” Mariel finally said, stepping beside me. “What now?”

I looked at her, then at the mess in front of me.

“We clean and… we wait,” I said, dusting invisible stress off my sleeves. “We’ll see if they call and say she can come back.”

“And if she doesn’t?” Luigi asked.

“No clue,” I said.

@nosebeers @mrs-cactus69 @iinfinitelimits

hi i’m Vaz, this was just a product of my active imagination, free time and the need for a better outcome. Hope u enjoy xxx

The day has come. The whole wedding shenanigans will be a thing on its own instead of a chapter. But obviously will be the next part.

I kinda went overboard with context, so it got long.

#luigi mangione fanfic #luigi mangione fanfiction #luigi mangione imagine #luigi mangione x latina reader #luigi mangione x reader #luigi mangione x y/n #luigi mangione x yn

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problemchildtm · 1 year ago

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Heartbreak

Derek Morgan x Reader

A/n: I'm no writer but I wanted to give it a try. I've also never really been in love so take the love analogies with a grain of rice. Hope you enjoy! :)

Warnings: angst/fluff, mentions of grief and death, hardly proofread, I think that's it but let me know if I'm missing something

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

“You will never know true happiness until you have truly loved, and you will never understand what pain really is until you have lost it.” —Unknown

Derek Morgan was positive he knew what heartbreak felt like. Heartbreak and the BAU went together like the mood and the tides. He’s seen the effects firsthand. The anger, the depression, and everything else in between. Day after day, week after week he watches heartbreak and it never gets better.

He can still remember his first experience with the phenomenon. He was hit the day his dad died. People always describe the feeling being as simple as its name. A physical crack in the chest cavity that contains the heart. In his case, it was more like the entire muscle being forcefully ripped out. The pain was immeasurable and all-encompassing. Every inch of his body ached to the point of exhaustion. Absolutely nothing could compare.

Heartbreak is sourced in different ways: Breakups, deaths, rejections just to name a few. Derek never wanted to go through heartbreak in any capacity, so he’s cruised. There were no serious relationships or commitments outside the BAU, just to play it safe. Heartbreak can’t reach those who build extensive layers of armor around the vessel.

Everything was going well until he met you.

It was impossible for him to shut you out. Derek’s frequented the same gym for years. They had everything he needed and the change of scenery from the FBI was nice. He’s had the same routine for years yet the process abruptly stopped the second he laid eyes on you, sitting behind the front desk with the warmest smile he’s ever seen. From there he was a goner.

The occasional run-in turned into movie marathons on a rare off day before completely blossoming into a full-fledged romance. Derek’s never been one to believe in love at first sight. Hell, he hardly believed in love, so it was utterly confusing when the metaphorical hole in his heart started to swell at the thought of you. No matter what he did his mind always returned to you. The way you spoke to him, the way you cared for him after a rough case, the way you smelled, his thoughts were completely filled by you.

The days were longer, the nights were kinder, and the job was more bearable. Soon, the constant fear and anxiety that plagued him evolved into comfort. He no longer feared heartbreak. He didn’t wonder who would be the next person to destroy his happiness because he knew you would never even dream of it. You who held him after a nightmare. You who always understood his schedule. You who distracted him from the horrors of his profession. You who loved him, you who he fell in love with. Suddenly, warmth flooded his chest accompanied by a staggering realization. Love isn’t a concept you convince yourself is there out of fear of being alone. It’s not just a word. And it’s not some other-worldly experience that takes over a life. Love is feeling at ease with someone. Love is being able to rely on someone without worrying about ulterior motives. Love is what he felt for you.

Derek Morgan was positive he knew what love felt like and he felt it day after day by your side.

#derek morgan #derek morgan x reader #derek morgan fic #derek morgan fanfiction #criminal minds #aaron hotch hotchner #emily prentiss #spencer reid #bau #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfiction #i tried

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reidsluvva · 1 year ago

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oblivion.

sypnosis. - spencer is saddened by y/n’s recent date. pairing. - spencer reid x fem!bau!reader content/warnings. - angst, bit of drinking, unrequited love but not rly, tons of miscommunication, elle’s story is very different, spencer has headaches even before s6 but timeline is just overall wonky, spencer is stupid

y/n’s phone lit up on the table, signaling a notification.

“hey y/n! who’s “alex”?” emily asked in a teasing tone. y/n buried her face in her hands as she let out a chuckle.

“emily it isn’t polite to look at other people’s phones! besides, it’s just a guy whom i went out with last week.” y/n said, her tone gradually becoming softer and quieter. the bau on the other hand, already kind of tipsy, started cheering.

their loud yells quickly filled the room. y/n has been in the bau for 4 years, but in the time they’ve known her she had always turned down every guy who ever asked her out, so this was quite exciting and unusual. derek was teasing her about being secretive, emily was talking about how she’s offended y/n didn’t tell her, jj and penelope were very impatiently asking for details, and hotch and rossi were just laughing. the only one who didn’t even say a word was spencer. he was sitting across from y.n. he just looked unfocused and disoriented, which was quite unusual. when emily glanced at him concerningly he just gave her a short smile.

after y/n told them some details (it really wasn’t much, they met at a park and he had a very pretty dog whom y/n complimented, thus they started chatting and eventually went out to a restaurant together) the room got a bit quieter, and gradually they shifted onto other topics. though spencer still wasn’t saying a word. he made eye contact w y/n, and as she was about to ask if everything is okay, spencer just got up and started going towards the door.

“hey hey what’s wrong?” penelope chimed towards him.

“nothing, i’m just dizzy so i’m going to get some fresh air.” he nodded, and shortly afterward left the room.

“i’m gonna check up on him, i have meds.” y/n said as she walked towards the door. the others just nodded, y/n has helped spencer with headaches before so this wasn’t out of the usual. but y/n felt incredibly anxious. she noticed the shift in spencer’s body language once the topic became her date. and she was confused.

she found spencer sitting on a bench in front of the house.

“hey, i got u algopyrin in case your head hurts? maybe it also helps with the dizziness.” she said as she sat down next to him, leaving about 6 inches between them. much to her shock, spencer didn’t react, instead he just shuffled away from her. she opened her eyes wide and stood up, facing him, full of concern.

“okay what’s wrong spencer?” she crossed her arms, signaling her shift in attitude. he just turned his head to the side. “oh come on, please talk to me!” she said, now sounding more desperate.

“why did you go out with him?” he mumbled.

“what?” she furrowed her brows. she wanted confirmation that she heard him correctly.

“why did you go out with him?” he said, now louder and facing y/n. he was looking at her like she’d just stabbed him in the back.

“why shouldn’t i have gone out with him? i’m confused.” she said, now lowering her arms to the side, a million thoughts racing in her head. does he know something about alex? or does spencer not want her to go out with others because he likes her? no, no, logically that couldn’t be the case.

“be-because y/n, you just shouldn’t. you should know better.” he huffed.

“what the hell are you talking about spencer?” she said, her tone now a bit louder.

“what did he do better? was he better looking? i know i have flaws, i know i’m weird, but-”

“what?” she practically yelled. “reid are you saying you wanted to go out with me?”

“yes, y/n, obviously! for a very very long time, and i think i’ve been very clear.”

“oh cut the crap spencer. i have been waiting on you for four years. you can’t suddenly decide u want me as soon as i get with someone else. four years spen-”

“no you haven’t, what?” his voice was like a whisper. he was genuinely confused but to her he just seemed cocky.

“you can’t be serious. i waited on u for FOUR years, and you know what you did? after two years of me hopelessly admiring you, which i am sure as a profiler you did not fucking miss, not that i was so subtle about it, you decide to have a little makeout sesh with some random actress you literally met like a few days prior. you know how invaluable i felt? and how just utterly stupid i felt? and then you go and ignore me for a month, refusing to even stand next to me. was that you being ‘very clear’? i felt so, so dumb, because for a while i really did think you liked me, spencer. and then for another two years all i listened to was elle talking my ear off about how much she liked you. i listened to her gush about every special interaction of yours, your plane rides where she would sleep on your shoulder. and me being the idiot i am, i still couldn’t let go of you. like a stupid little girl wanting to live in a fantasy.”

at this point she noticed her words were somewhat nonsensical, but by now solely her emotions fueled her. her voice was wobbly and her eyes became red. she felt way too sober for someone who’s just had three glasses of red wine.

“and then, she tells you how she feels, which i, as stupid as i am encouraged her to do, because why on earth wouldn’t you wanna go out with elle goddamn greenaway? she’s practically perfect! then you pull up with your little speech about how dating in the bau isn’t allowed, and then i realized- i am stupid. why would spencer reid want anything to do with me? we are colleagues, that’s it. we aren’t even allowed to date, even if you wanted to. you contacted me maybe twice outside of work since lila- so i can help with your headaches. that’s it. how exactly was that you signaling your feelings? this had always been purely a work relationship and i’ve grown to accept that. especially when elle left. i did not want us to end up like that so i finally, after four years, moved on with my life and now you decide to get all butthurt on me because i went out with a guy? after ruining myself over you for four years? you never even remotely said anything! am i supposed to pause my life waiting for you forever? oh you are such a piece of shit!”

her sadness turned to anger during the end of her speech. spencer was shocked.

“no, no, no, i didn’t know. i’ve always liked u y/n. i’m sorry. we could make it work. i could transfer if the bau doesn’t allow us to. please. it wasn’t like that with lila. it’s always been you about you.” her heart ached at his words.

“don’t do this to me spencer, please. and please for the sake of our jobs forget this ever happened.” she said as she made eye contact with emily standing in the doorway. “i’m gonna go home, go back to the others.” she said as she tossed the algopyrin to him and walked away.

spencer was left dumbfounded. he just sat there, staring at her walking away, before flinching at a sound next to him.

“what did you expect?” the woman next to him sighed. he stayed silent.

-------

HI :') my first piece. idk if i'll ever post again but yuh this was personal fr

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x you #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds x you

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moonlight-joy · 5 months ago

Text

A Mystery Benefactor

MASTERLIST

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Summary: The BAU team begins to notice Spencer Reid’s sudden upgrade in accessories—an expensive watch, a designer satchel—sparking curiosity. When Garcia delivers a package containing a luxury tie and a note signed Love, Y/N, the truth unravels: Spencer has a mystery benefactor—his wealthy girlfriend. The team demands answers, and the next day, you arrive at the office, effortlessly charming everyone. Over dinner, they interrogate you about your wealth, teasing Spencer mercilessly. Despite his embarrassment, it’s clear—he’s completely smitten, and you have every intention of spoiling him for a long time.

Pairing: Reader/Spencer Reid

The first time the team noticed something was different about Spencer, it was subtle. A new watch—sleek, expensive-looking, but nothing too flashy. Derek Morgan had squinted at it during a briefing, noting how it gleamed under the fluorescent lights.

“New watch, pretty boy?” Morgan teased, nudging Spencer’s arm.

Spencer, who had been flipping through a case file, blinked and quickly tucked his wrist under the table. “Uh, yeah. Just something I—uh—picked up.”

JJ raised an eyebrow. “Picked up? Since when do you shop for anything that isn’t books?”

Spencer hesitated. He wasn’t exactly great at lying, so he just hummed noncommittally and went back to his papers. The team shared a look but let it go.

Then came the new leather satchel, replacing the beat-up messenger bag he had used since his first year at the BAU.

Emily eyed it curiously. “Is that… designer?”

Spencer looked down at the smooth, high-quality leather and gulped. “I… I don’t know.”

Morgan let out a low whistle. “Kid, that bag costs at least a thousand bucks.”

“That’s… that’s a lot, huh?” Spencer winced.

“Reid, where the hell are you getting all this stuff?” Rossi asked, giving him a knowing look. “Did you finally take my advice and start playing poker again?”

Hotch, though focused on his paperwork, raised an eyebrow at that. Spencer shook his head rapidly. “No! No gambling.”

More murmurs from the team. The mystery of Spencer’s sudden upgrade in accessories continued.

But it wasn’t until Garcia waltzed in holding a package that things got even more suspicious.

“Ooooh, my genius bean, something arrived for you!” she sang, setting a box on the table in front of him. It was wrapped elegantly, the brand logo discreet but expensive.

The team practically hovered as Spencer hesitated before peeling the wrapping away. Inside was a stunning silk tie in deep purple, along with a handwritten note.

Wear this tonight. Miss you. - Love, Y/N

Spencer’s ears went red.

Morgan snatched the note before Spencer could react. His eyebrows shot up. “Who the hell is Y/N?”

Emily leaned in. “Are we missing something? A girlfriend, maybe?”

The room went silent.

Spencer, realizing he was very much caught, fidgeted. “Uh…”

The team exploded.

“YOU HAVE A GIRLFRIEND?!”

“How did we not know this?!”

“Wait, wait, wait. She’s the one buying you all this fancy stuff?!”

Spencer cleared his throat. “She… she enjoys treating me, yeah.”

Morgan shook his head, amused. “Damn, pretty boy. You’ve been holding out on us. Who is this mysterious sugar mama?”

Spencer groaned, hiding his face behind his hands. “She’s not a sugar mama. She’s just… well-off.”

“How well-off?” Rossi asked, smirking.

Spencer hesitated before mumbling, “Very.”

“Ohhh, we need to meet her,” Garcia grinned.

Spencer sighed, already regretting everything.

***

The BAU team didn’t have to wait long. The very next day, as they wrapped up their morning meeting, an unexpected visitor strolled into the bullpen.

You walked in confidently, dressed sharply, carrying a small bag in your hand. The team barely had time to react before Spencer spotted you, his eyes going wide.

“Oh no,” he mumbled under his breath.

Morgan, Emily, and JJ all turned at once.

“Is that…?” JJ started.

“Ohhh, she’s gorgeous,” Garcia whispered, fanning herself dramatically.

You smiled as you reached Spencer’s desk. “Hey, handsome,” you greeted, leaning down to press a soft kiss to his cheek.

Morgan’s jaw dropped. “No. Way.”

Spencer coughed, his entire face heating up. “Um. Guys. This is… uh, this is my girlfriend, Y/N.”

“Girlfriend?” Rossi repeated with amusement. “More like mystery benefactor.”

You chuckled, holding up the bag. “Actually, I just came to drop off his lunch. He left it at home.”

Hotch, who had been observing with a rare smirk, finally spoke. “So, Y/N, should we be expecting more luxury deliveries for Dr. Reid?”

You grinned. “I do like spoiling him.”

Morgan shook his head in disbelief. “I gotta ask—how did you two even meet?”

Spencer sighed, resigning himself to the inevitable. “We met at a lecture I was giving a year ago. She—”

“I thought he was adorable,” you finished for him, smiling. “So I asked him out.”

JJ looked between the two of you, impressed. “And let me guess—he said no at first?”

You laughed. “Oh, absolutely. But I was persistent.”

Rossi raised an eyebrow. “Persistent and wealthy. Kid, you hit the jackpot.”

Spencer groaned, covering his face again.

Emily leaned back in her chair. “Alright, Y/N, I think it’s time for the real question. Just how well-off are we talking?”

You glanced at Spencer, who gave you a pleading look. Smiling mischievously, you reached into your bag and pulled out a set of keys, tossing them to Morgan.

He caught them and stared. “Wait. This is…” His eyes flicked to you in shock. “You drive an Aston Martin?”

You winked. “One of them.”

The team erupted into laughter and disbelief, while Spencer simply sighed in surrender.

***

That evening, the team insisted on taking you out for dinner to “interrogate” you properly. They chose a fancy restaurant, much to Spencer’s dismay.

Garcia, grinning, leaned in the moment you sat down. “So, Y/N, I have to know—what is it about our dear Spencer that caught your attention?”

You smiled at your boyfriend, who was already looking like he wanted to disappear into his seat. “Oh, that’s easy. He’s brilliant, kind, and the most fascinating man I’ve ever met.”

Spencer coughed. “I—uh, well—”

Morgan smirked. “And the fact that he looks like a model in a lab coat?”

You laughed. “That doesn’t hurt.”

Hotch, ever the observer, finally spoke up. “Spencer mentioned you were… very well-off.”

You sipped your drink before nodding. “That’s true.”

Emily raised an eyebrow. “Like ‘comfortable’ well-off, or ‘private jet’ well-off?”

You gave Spencer a knowing look before shrugging. “Somewhere in between.”

Morgan whistled. “Damn, pretty boy, you really did win the lottery.”

Spencer groaned again as the team laughed.

As the night went on, you fit right in with the BAU family. They teased Spencer mercilessly, but you could tell they adored him just as much as you did. And despite his embarrassment, he couldn’t stop sneaking little glances at you, his expression soft with affection.

By the end of the evening, Garcia threw her arms around you. “You’re officially one of us now, sugar mama.”

Spencer groaned. “She’s not a sugar mama!”

Morgan grinned. “Right, right. Just a very generous, very wealthy girlfriend who buys our boy luxury gifts.”

You squeezed Spencer’s hand under the table, smiling. “And I plan to keep spoiling him for a long time.”

The team cheered, Spencer turned bright red, and you knew this wouldn’t be the last time they teased him about you.

Please support my work with like and comment

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #mgg #matthew gray gubler #criminal minds x reader

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specialagentlokitty · 1 year ago

Text

Daryl x reader - our past lives bleed into the preset

Part 2:

You turned to Rick and Michonne.

“Can we get these guys showered, some new clothes and some food?”

They nodded, and you turned to the BAU team, giving them a small smile.

“Follow us.”

You trailed behind Rick and Michonne, Carol, Daryl and AJ not that far behind you and the BAU behind them.

You stopped outside your house, and gestured to it and the house next to it.

“You guys can split up, use these two to shower and all, Michonne is going to find some spare clothes for everybody and Rick is going to get some food brought the church.”

“Can we talk?” Emily asked.

You turned around, looking at them all.

“Yeah, afterwards we can.”

“Hey (Y/N)? Jesus is asking for you, something about some plans for Hilltop he wants to run over? He’s on the radio.” Rosita said.

You turned to her, nodding your head.

“Yeah I know what plans he’s on about. Can somebody take Negan his lunch?”

“I’ll do it.” Aaron said.

You held your arms around to Carol and she handed you AJ, and you placed him on the ground next to you.

Crouching down, you smiled at him.

“Where do you want to go buddy?”

“Can I stay with Daryl?”

You nodded, letting him wonder off to hold Daryl’s hand, and you walked over to your husband.

“I’ll come find you after.”

“Be at the church.”

You nodded, and you jogged after Rosita to deal with what you needed to handle.

You were gone for maybe an hour or so, having other stuff to do as well and you finally made your way over to the church where everybody else was stood.

Making your way inside, you walked over to Rick.

“Can we trust them?” He whispered.

“Yeah, I trusted them with my life before all of this.”

“Do you still trust them?” Michonne asked.

You glanced over at the group who were anxiously watching you, then turned back to your friends.

“Yes.”

They nodded their heads, and you all walked over.

Daryl had passed AJ to Carol so she could put him to bed, and you both sat next to each other watching as Rick and Michonne interrogated the group.

It lasted maybe half an hour until JJ finally spoke up.

“Would we be able to speak to (Y/N)?” She asked.

“Fine, but we stay.” Daryl said.

“That’s fine, we just wanted to talk.” She smiled.

They all turned their attention to you, surrounded by the council, and you sat down on the bench as you looked at them.

“How did you make it?” You asked.

“We were all at a family event at the park when the notification came through on our phones, Derek was with his family and you were in a different state. Before cell reception went, we’d managed to organise a meet point with Derek and his family, but nobody could get through to you.” Reid explained.

“Yeah, I was visiting my brother, everything went to hell pretty quickly. Rick was shot just before all of this, we thought he died, turned out he didn’t.”

You gestured to Rick who was sat next to you, and then turned your attention back to the ground.

“Been with them since.”

“You’ve been here the whole time?” Hotch asked.

You shook your head.

“No, but the real question is how did you guys make it this far.”

“When we realised what was happening a lot of people panic, there was supposed to be a safe one in Atlanta, but we couldn’t get there, we set up a safe place at the FBI headquarters, stayed there for a while but we had to get out the city eventually.”

You nodded your head.

“We found a small farmhouse for a while, but it was overrun after about a year, then we just kept moving until we came across some people who took us back to the place your brother found us.” JJ said.

You nodded again, resting your arms on your knees.

You studied them all carefully, and you could tell they haven’t had much interaction with the walkers, or other people for that matter.

Most people had scars, or were covered in dirt and blood when you found them, but these guys were only a little dirty, not a single scar across them.

“We don’t have any spare houses right now, you guys can hide out here, we should have some new houses up by the end of the month. Get some rest.”

With that, you stood up and walked back to your house, dropping yourself on to the couch.

Daryl walked in not long after, sitting on the table as he looked at you resting your head on Carol’s shoulder.

“Don’t take a profiler to see he wants to speak to you.” He mumbled.

You sighed.

“I know, I just… I don’t know what to say to him…”

Daryl scoffed a little.

“Shouldn’t be that hard.”

With that he got up and you groaned in annoyance.

You know Daryl wasn’t actually angry with you, you knew he always had doubts about him being the right person for you.

After all you were a member of the FBI, in a stable relationship, expecting your partners son, and he didn’t even have a job before all this started.

“What do I do Carol?”

“You’ll have to speak to him at some point.”

You groaned again and sat up, pushing yourself up from the couch.

“I’ll go talk to Daryl first.”

Making your way to the bedroom, you got changed and crawled under the covers, placing your hand on the side of his face.

Daryl looked at you, and he closed his eyes again.

“I’m going to be honest with him, I need him to know that what we had before all of this we can’t have that again…”

This made him open his eyes again.

“Why? I thought you wanted to find him and he with him.”

You sighed.

“I did yeah, at first. Then time went on, I realised the likelihood of him or any of them being alive was smaller each day. Then I had AJ, then you were every step of the way. I fell in love with you.”

You leant forward, brushing your lips against his before pulling away.

“I love you, and I married you.”

Daryl opened his eyes again.

“Say it again.”

You smiled brightly, brushing your knuckles against his cheek.

“I love you Daryl..” you whispered.

You leant forward to kiss him again, and he wrapped an arm over your waist, placing his hand on your back as he leant forward.

He pulled away, resting his forehead on yours.

“I love you so much…”

He laughed a little.

“Go to sleep.”

“Come on Daryl, say it!” You whined slightly.

“No.”

“Daryl!”

You huffed a little bit, and went to move, and he tightened his hold around you, pulling you back into his chest.

You placed your hands on his, turning around to tuck your head under his chin, closing your eyes.

You slept until the early morning light filtered through the curtains, and you got up to find Daryl getting ready for the day.

He was sat on the bed, and you sat behind him, resting your head on his back, running a finger along the scars on his skin.

“Where you going?”

“AJ wants to go help build houses.”

You laughed a little bit.

“Course he does. Are you taking him?”

Daryl hummed a little bit, and you let him leant back against your chest.

“Alright, I’ll come find you guys soon.”

He turned his head so he could kiss you before getting up, grabbing his shirt as he pulled it on then grabbed his jacket.

You got ready for the day and made your way outside, heading over to the gate to speak to Eugine.

“We got some movement nearby, I count only a couple walkers.”

You nodded your head, placing a hand on the hilt of your sword.

“Go find Aaron or Gabriel, we’ll go out and clear them. Check the traps while we’re out there.”

He jogged away and you stood there waiting, listening to the sounds of the walkers outside the gate.

“(Y/N)!”

You turned around, looking as Rossi, Garcia and Reid came over.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“Are you going out? Is that safe?” Garcia frowned.

“We got some walkers outside the gate, gonna clear them.”

“You aren’t going to just let them pass?” Rossi asked.

You shook your head.

“We’ve got people and coming most days, we need the gate cleared, and if we leave them they could pile up and we don’t need that again.”

“Again?” Reid asked.

“A while back we had a massive horde pile up, they knocked down the wall and got in, we lost a lot of good people that day.”

You gestured for them to follow you, and you showed them the names on the wall.

“Everybody we lost.”

“That’s a lot of names…” Garica whispered.

“Yeah..”

You turned back to the gate, finding Aaron and Gabriel there waiting for you.

“Look, I’ll be back soon. There’s a lookout spot by the gate, Eugine will show you it.”

You jogged away, leaving the safety of the community to deal with the walkers nearby.

You had to dispose of the bodies as well which took some time, but eventually you made your way back inside.

Putting your sword away, you made your way to the far side of the community.

Everybody was there, either helping or just watching as the houses were being built, and you dropped yourself between JJ and Emily.

“Mama!”

You felt a pair of arms wrap around your neck and AJ climb on to your back, and you smiled softly while Garcia, Reid, Emily, JJ looked at you in shock.

“Hey sweetheart, come here.”

You held your arm out and he sat in your lap.

“I want you to meet some friends of mine, from the old world. This is Emily, JJ, Spence, and Garcia.”

He waved at them all, moving to sit in the middle of everybody.

“Hi! I’m AJ!”

AJ rummaged through his pocket, pulling out a photo, and he looked at it, looking between them all.

“Mama tells me about you!” He beamed.

“Aw he’s so cute! I just wanna hug him!” Garcia gushed.

At the mention of a hug AJ looked at you excitedly and you nodded, letting him shove the photo back into his pocket to get up and run and Garcia.

She laughed loudly, holding him tightly.

“How old is he?” Reid asked.

“Honestly we’ve lost track of time now, but he’ll be 5 in the winter. He loves to celebrate his birthday when the first snow of the year falls.”

“He’s so cute, it’s amazing you’ve gotten through all of this with him.” Emily smiled.

“We’ve seen a few kids around, I can’t believe there’s so many. How do you guys keep them safe?” JJ asked.

“Everyone in the communities look out for each other, we protect each other. We teach them everything they need to know so they’re not scared. Teach them how to fight.”

They nodded their heads, and you could see Garica looking at your face.

“What happened?” She asked softly.

You sighed softly, bringing a hand up to touch your eye, the bandage around it, looking at the ground.

“I was stabbed, a long time ago.”

You explained the story to them of the saviours, the person who had stabbed you, what happened to the saviours and about your eye.

You did leave some things out, some things they didn’t need to know and it wasn’t your story to tell.

While you were talking AJ was moving from person to person, sitting with them all.

You finally finished talking, and Garcia was the first to come crushing you in a hug.

“That’s horrible! I can’t believe you went through all of that…” she whispered.

You smiled, placing a hand on her back.

“It’s alright, we always come out on top.”

The other three hugged you as well, and AJ happily joined the hug.

Everybody pulled away, and you sighed a little bit, looking out the house where Rossi, Hotch and Derek were helping with the building.

“Sorry guys, I need to speak to Hotch.”

You got up, and held your hand out for AJ who held it and followed you as you walked over.

“Hey Hotch, can we talk?”

He stopped what he was doing and nodded, stepping away so he could follow you to the side, and you stood just to the side.

“Is everything okay? Are you okay?” Hotch asked.

He went to reach up, and you placed your hand on his, lowering it back to the side.

You never missed the sad look on his face when you did this, and you had to look away, looking at AJ who was playing on the grass.

“I uh.. do you remember when I said I had something to tell you after I got back from my trip?”

He nodded his head.

“Yes, you said it had to be in person.”

You smiled a little.

“Yeah, it was a good thing. Hell, the best thing to ever happen really.”

You saw him furrow his brows a little bit.

“You have a right to know that AJ is your son Aaron, his name is Aaron Junior, I named him after you shortly after I gave birth because I didn’t want to forget you. He knows about you, he knows about everybody from the BAU.”

Hotch’s eyes widened a little bit.

“He’s.. he’s mine..?”

“Yeah… I don’t think it’s clicked yet to him as to who you are. But he’s yours, and I told him all about you, everything I could remember.”

“We.. you and I… we had a son…? Jack has a brother…”

Hotch rushed forward to hug you tightly, and you pat his back a few times before you moved away.

You smiled, walking over to AJ and you gestured for Hotch to crouch down next to you, and he did.

“Hey sweetheart?”

AJ looked up, setting his tennis ball on the ground.

“Do you remember when I was telling you about who your dad was?”

He nodded his head.

“I like the stories about my dad. Are you going to tell another?”

“How about you ask your dad for some stories? This is Aaron, he’s your dad buddy, and he’s really excited to meet you.”

AJ stared at Hotch, and then he got up to hug him, and Hotch held him tightly.

You smiled softly, and stood up, walking over to the BAU who were watching the scene, Jacks aunt brining him to run over to his dad and brother.

“I can’t believe you two had a baby!” Garcia squealed.

“We all knew it was a matter of time. Congratulations.” Rossi smiled.

They all congratulated you, and you smiled at them all.

“So, does this mean you and boss man will pick it back up? Carry on?” Derek asked.

You sighed a little bit, shaking your head.

“I’ll admit I was devastated when I thought I’d lost you all, I never wanted to move on, but it’s been so long since then.”

They all looked at you.

“You found somebody.” Emily noted.

You nodded, smiling a little bit.

“Yeah… he’s a pain in my ass, he’s stubborn as fuck, and rude at the best of times. But god he’s amazing though, he cares, and he always looks out for us, when food was scarce he would always make sure we were fed first. He wasn’t used to relationships so it took a while to get used to. Then when I was recovering with my eye, he spent weeks looking after AJ.”

“The guy from the other day?” JJ asked.

“Oh! The one with the one with the jacket?” Garcia grinned.

You laughed a little, nodding your head.

You looked around trying to find Daryl, and finally you did.

He was walking over with Carol who was holding a tub of biscuits, and he took one of the biscuits.

“Hey kid.”

AJ and Jack looked up, and Daryl grabbed another biscuit, giving them to the boys.

While AJ grinned and latched on to Daryl, Jack looked at his dad a little unsure.

“Get off you animal! Eat ya food!”

AJ laughed a little bit as Daryl tried to walk away.

Walking over, you swept AJ into your arms and he giggled as he ate his biscuit, and you went to walk away.

Daryl grabbed you by the back of the shirt and pulled you back.

“Hey, you forgettin’ somethin’?”

You titled your head back to look at him, and he stared into your eyes.

You turned around, leaning up to kiss his cheek before you went to walk away again.

“No dumbass.”

Daryl grabbed you again, and this time he took your hand and handed you a biscuit.

You laughed a little, and this time he let you go, trailing behind you as you walked back over to everybody.

Hotch was holding Jack, and he looked between you and Daryl.

“Guys, this is my husband. Daryl.”

“Husband?!” JJ, Garcia and Derek yelled.

“You got a problem with that? Let’s go.” Daryl snapped.

You placed a hand on his chest.

“We’ve been married for about a year now, he’s a bit of a hot head but you’ll get used to that.”

Daryl mumbled something from behind you and you looked at him, turning your attention back to your team.

“You need to tell us everything.” Emily grinned.

You laughed a little bit, nodding your head in agreement, and you got ready to follow them.

“No. Doctors office.” Daryl said.

“Oh shit yeah, I need my bandage changed. I’ll come find you guys after.”

You turned around and followed Daryl, shoulder brushing against his, and you beamed a little as you looked up at him.

He glanced down at you.

“Were you jealous?”

“Shut up…”

You laughed a little bit.

You did enjoy winding him up, it was fun, but you would never take it too far.

Daryl glanced behind him, seeing Hotch just watching the pair of you leave, and he slipped his arm around you waist to pull you into his side just to let Hotch know that you were taken.

You were married to him, and he wasn’t about to let someone take away the best thing in his life

#the walking dead imagine #the walking dead #the walking dead x reader #the walking dead x you #the walking dead x y/n #twd #twd imagine #twd x reader #twd x you #twd x y/n #Daryl Dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x y/n #Daryl Dixon imagine

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garciaasfluffypen · 2 months ago

Text

the only thing holding me back is the thought of you

pairing: jennifer jareau & gn!reader word count: 1.9k warning: this storyline follows episode 200. this deals with jj's tort*re storyline and everything around it. please do not read if this is not something you are comfortable with. also, the storyline doesn't officially follow the episode (meaning emily is in it more than she originally was) so there will be inconsistencies. i'm literally just a girl, don't be mad at me!!!!!

blackbird.

that was all you had to see before you dropped everything and practically run to the sixth floor of the fbi building. there was only one reason she would have ever texted you that, and it was because she was in trouble. while people didn’t think you were that close, you were very good at hiding the fact that even after you had left the bau, you spent a year together overseas running point on interrogations for strauss. you had bonded.

and maybe you had fallen in love with her. was that why you were running back at a simple word? maybe. your phone rang and you knew exactly who it was without even needing to look at the caller id.

“you got the text too?”

“i��ll be on the next red eye out. can you fill me in when you get there?”

“i’m running down the stairs as we speak.”

a few more words were exchanged with emily before you hung up, bursting through the door to penelope’s office. she jumped, doing her best to not spill her mug of tea all over her desk.

“jj’s in trouble. i need you to get the team now.”

“i- sugarpea, what’s going on?”

“really long story. where’s cruz?”

“cruz? what does he-”

“garcia.” you started to fight back the tears that were threatening to fall. “i need to know where cruz is.”

“um… i’ll find him for you.”

“tell me when you know. i’m going to find hotch. i need to fill everyone in on what happened at the state department.”

four hours later, you had briefed the team on everything that they were allowed to know, will and the boys were holed up in hotch’s office and you were on your way to the airstrip to get emily. nobody knew she had been called in, except for hotch. it felt like it had been so long since you saw your best friend, even though you had seen her a few weeks ago when you went to the same conference. you had known something had been going on, since the brass had started digging into your case files from the months you spent in the middle east and cruz had been on your ass. now, cruz was in the wind and the woman you were secretly in love with had been kidnapped and you didn’t know what to do. the relief you got after seeing emily was short lived, and you filled her in on everything that you had told the team as you drove back to quantico.

“so we need to find cruz.”

you nodded in agreement. “we need to find cruz.”

“you said hotch is at the state department?” you nodded in confirmation. “okay, we can do this. we can find her. we can get jj back.”

“em-”

“i need one minute to freak out and then we’ll get into work mode. i promise.”

“you got it, no judgement here.”

back at the bureau, you told garcia to dig into both jj and cruz and figure out what the hell they were doing. you ran point with hotch, giving him all the information you knew about what she was doing. you only knew what you had seen, so unfortunately it wasn’t enough. by the time you had gotten to her office, the state department had locked everyone out and you were back at square one. but you had reinforcements.

you had emily.

after some research on your end with your sources, you called the bau team into the round table room to fill them in on what you found.

“so, tivon means ‘student of nature’ and askari means soldier. his methods appear to be well documented, organized and meticulous. from what i’ve gathered, he spends 24 hours with his subjects before they break.”

emily let out a long sigh. “they’ve had cruz for at least that long.”

“it looks like he uses standard techniques.”

you nodded in confirmation. “he keeps his ritual to an established timeline. my best guess is the methodology of it has been perfected and evolved through years of practice.”

“no sexual torture?”

“it could be a line he doesn’t cross. typically, professional tortures are driven by a false sense of moral superiority.” reid looked up at the screen, then back at you.

“but askari isn’t just a torturer.” you pointed out. “he’s a sadistic serial killer.”

garcia cleared her throat. “guys, i may have two more victims we can attribute to askari. savin mubari and his wife nadia. he was a known confidant, both were at the camp where jj worked.”

“i feel a but coming on.”

“you are right, sweet angel of mine. m.o matches all of the victims except for one thing.” garcia let the silence hang in the air, not wanting to say the words outloud.

“what was different?” you wondered out loud, turning to look at her picture. “did she last the longest? because if his ritual dictates a specific timeline this would deviate from it.”

“and the longer jj waits it out…”

“how much longer does jj have?”

“not much longer.”

with that, the team hopped into overdrive. you all were running on fumes, but you had to do what you needed to do to find jj. you didn’t know what would happen, but you hoped you would be fast enough. because not only would you be losing the woman you loved, but henry and michael would be losing their mother, will would be losing his wife, and the team would be losing one of their best friends. it was chaos, it was not anything you wanted to deal with ever, but it was happening.

and that’s when garcia cracked it.

jj had officially put in her code in the system that she was being tortured for, triggering the silent alarm that was able to make it easier for garcia to track her down. you pulled on your tactical gear, hopping in the car with emily and hotch and speeding off. thank god you were the fbi, because you definitely were breaking traffic laws as you sped down the interstate to get to her location. you barely listened to the plan as hotch rattled off directions, waiting for the okay to breach. once you were through the door, all you were worried about was finding your best friend.

all you needed was to see jj alive.

you finally found the room she was in, heading straight over to her with emily hot on your heels. you fell onto your knees, barely registering the pain you felt from falling onto the concrete floor, cradling her head in your arms.

“jayje-”

“y/n… i knew they’d call you.”

“shhh, you’re okay.” emily came around her other side.

“emily…”

“are you okay?”

“i’m fine.” she took in a shuddering breath. “help matt, please. hastings is heading to the roof. you gotta stop him.”

“em, go get cruz.”

“where are you going?” emily looked at you, concern all over her face.

“to find this sick son of a bitch.”

you placed a small kiss on jj’s forehead, taking a second to ground yourself in the fact that she was alive before you got up and ran. you didn’t know how many stairs you climbed- you didn’t keep track. you were seeing red and barely realized that jj was behind you, pushing herself to her absolute limits as the two of you got to the roof. the fight was brutal. you most likely had a couple broken ribs and you surely had some cuts on your face. and now he was running to the edge. he was going to jump. you ran after him, jj hot on your heels as you screamed obscenities at him. and then the worst happened. he took jj with him. except jj didn’t fall, you grabbed onto her. but hastings did. you and jj stared at each other for a moment, pure terror in each of your eyes as you started to pull her up. emily was behind you seconds later, reaching around you for her other arm to pull her up.

she was safe. she was alive.

jj was alive.

you pulled her in for a hug, tight as you could considering the state both of you were in. she pulled back to lean her forehead against yours, letting you cup her face again. it was something both of you needed. to be grounded in each other. you helped her downstairs, letting her lean all her weight on you as you took her to the ambulance, taking the shock blanket from the emt and wrapping it around her shoulders. her hand didn’t leave yours the entire time, as if she needed you to know she wasn’t dreaming and that she was actually safe. hotch gave you the okay to head to the hospital with her, and you finally let the emt check you out on the way. you definitely had a concussion on top of everything, but decided that would be a later issue, considering your best friend had almost died.

in the hospital, they separated you mainly to get you checked out officially, and to run a few tests on jj. but soon as you were discharged, you found her room and sat with her while she napped. finally she woke up, and you smiled at her.

“you stayed.”

“of course i did, jay.” a blush covered your cheeks. “it's you.”

jj gave you a week smile as you brushed some hair from her face. “i knew you’d come running. you and emily.”

“i’d do anything if it meant seeing you again.”

“i miss you, more than i cared to admit.” jj’s voice got quiet. “you mean a lot to me, y/n. more than you’ll know.”

“do we need to save this conversation for when you’re not on pain medication?” you raised an eyebrow. “or are these your sober thoughts coming out while hyped up on pain meds?”

“these are my i almost died and i need to tell you that will and i are separating thoughts.” jj paused, gauging your reaction. “nothing is official yet but…”

“it will be soon.” you nodded in understanding.

“i thought it was what i wanted. it would be good for henry. but i’m not happy. will isn’t happy. we’re barely holding on.”

“i’m sorry, if it means anything.”

“sometimes things just don’t work out.” jj did her best to shrug. “but there’s one thing i know, and it’s that you’re here and….”

the sentence faded, but both of you knew what she was going to say. it was something she wanted to say, but knew it wasn’t the time or place. both of you knew that.

jj cleared her throat. “the only thing holding me back is the thought of you. it’s why i didn’t accept the official transfer to the state department. it's because i want to be closer to you, work better hours and have less secrecy. i hated keeping those secrets from you. and i’ll never forgive myself for what i let happen to you over there and-”

“jay.” you took her hand in yours, pressing a kiss to it. “we don’t need to dwell on that now. focus on getting you better and we’ll go from there, yeah?”

jj nodded. “yeah… yeah.”

and maybe, just maybe, it gave you some hope for your future.

#jennifer jareau #jennifer jareau fanfiction #jennifer jareau fanfic #jennifer jareau oneshot #jennifer jareau one shot #an i (queue) of 187

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catofadifferentcolor · 2 years ago

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Terrible Fic Idea #58: Percy Jackson x Criminal Minds

While perusing the PJO tag for the first time in ages, I stumbled across yet another crossover I never would have thought of trying - and which, naturally, hasn't escaped my head. It managed to mash together the worlds of PJO and Criminal Minds... and so, naturally, I thought: if I were going to write this crossover, what would I do?

aka the Unknown Demigod fic

Just imagine it:

Everything follows canon - until MoA. There Percy plays off the judo throw in New Rome to avoid starting a war with the Greeks, but after they're alone on the Argo Percy tells Annabeth that he doesn't appreciate 1) being blamed for his disappearance, as if Hera had asked him if he wanted to lose his memories and half a year of his life, and 2) being physically attacked by his girlfriend outside of weapons practice.

Naturally, Annabeth doesn't take this well and doubles down on her position, and the two fight like cats and dogs throughout MoA and HoO. By the time they reach Akhlys, Percy is hardly inclined to listen to Annabeth at all, and so doesn't stop poison-bending.

It's not obvious at the time, but not stopping fully unlocks Percy's divine powers. He's now immortal, like Chiron, but not a god. It's also rather the final straw for Annabeth and Percy's relationship.

Because he doesn't immediately realize he's immortal, Percy goes on with normal human things like high school and college - attending both at Camp Jupiter, which is better equipped to handle demigods than the average mortal school. It's only after he starts grad school at nearby Stanford University and gets a lot of comments on how young he looks does anyone start realizing what's happened.

Fast forward to about 15 years after HOO, when Percy has joined the BAU - because even immortals have to pay the bills somehow.

In my head I picture this to be S8/S9 of CM, largely because I enjoyed Alex Blake's character and think she'd be a good outsider POV for the story I want to tell, but dealer's choice.

Percy proves to be the BAU cryptid. His primary and secondary school records say unsub in the making... then he double majors in marine biology and classics in college (because everyone who survives four years in the legion or slays a particular number of monsters gets a classics degree when they graduate by default). Then he goes on to get a doctorate in psychology from Stanford... and swim twice for Team USA in the Olympics. He once went on vacation in the Keys and found the wreck of a lost Spanish galleon free diving. He's polite and mild mannered and goes nowhere without at least three knives on his person and a week's worth of survival gear. When he's tired, his reports sometimes slip into Ancient Greek or Latin. He may be a Hellenist and speaks of Hell as a place that he's been.

Percy is, in short, unfathomable to his profiler colleagues. They like him, but every new thing they learn about him only complicates the profile they're definitely not putting together.

He's been in the BAU for about 18 months before they receive reports of a serial killer's dumping ground in the Oakland Hills, not more than a mile from Camp Jupiter. The victims are all in their late teens and signs indicate all were killed in a ritualistic way. Most of those the investigators can identify are runaways.

Once the BAU is on site, Reid determines that someone is trying to recreate an obscure Ancient Roman sacrifice.

More importantly, Percy realizes that, yes, these are definitely the bodies of Roman demigods - and not one of them was killed by a monster before they could get to camp. In fact, he's pretty sure there's a secret entrance to camp not 100' away from the oldest body.

It's this last point that causes Percy to lead his team to Camp Jupiter. This is a revelation in itself and should answer many of the team's questions about Percy but give them twice as many new ones.

It should also be perfect timing, as they arrive just as praetors Frank and Hazel were thinking of reaching out to Percy, as he's the only real investigator either camp has. They're not aware of most of the murders, as it's not unusual for one or two demigods every year to be killed after leaving the safety of camp, but the last three victims went missing in the last three months under odd circumstances.

(One was a granddaughter of Apollo who'd talked about wanting to join the Hunters of Artemis, and when she disappeared everyone assumed that's what she did, only for the Hunters to visit later claiming she never showed. The most recent was a daughter of Bacchus who hated the regimented life of the legion and wanted to transfer to Camp Half-Blood where things were a little more their speed. Most the others were legacies or the children of minor gods.)

They set up shop in Percy's house - in part because CJ has no police force beyond the legion, which houses their main suspects - in part because Percy's house is built like a Roman temple on the edge of the temple district and no one would dare sneak into it.

(The demigods have been actively treating immortal Percy as a god, because if deification worked for Nero, they can make it work for Percy. And a deified!Percy could only be good for them.)

In the end it comes out a grandchild of Hecate/Trivia was sacrificing other demigods to their ancestor in hopes of obtaining more power - they should be just powerful enough to disguise their actions with the Mist but not much more, and intensely jealous their ancestor handed already-powerful Hazel more power during the Giant War.

Bonuses include: 1) Thalia and the Hunters showing up to help, as do Nico and Will. This should be an intensely confusing family reunion to watch from the outside given that two are immortal. Extra bonus points if the BAU recognize Nico from some wildly successful paranormal investigative channel on YouTube and are shocked to find out all the ghosts are real; 2) Will calling Percy "mom", on account of the fact he's been dating Apollo for the last five years now - Apollo's longest relationship ever - though Percy refuses to consider marriage or children until fifty years have passed; and 3) One of the BAU being tangentially involved with the mythological world already - Hotch had a relationship with a disguised Justice before meeting Hailey and their child is at Camp Jupiter? Reid has just recently met a disguised Athena at a conference and is now worried he'll arrive home to a baby on the doorstep?

And that's all I have. As always, feel free to adopt this bun, just link back to me if you chose to do anything with it.

More PJO Ideas | More MISC Ideas | More Terrible Fic Ideas

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hotchshands · 9 months ago

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Chapter 1 | First Day of Class

Masterlist | Taglist | Other Chapters

Summary: The first day of class is upon you and first up is Professor Hotchner's lecture, Intro to Profiling. You've been anxiously waiting for this day to arrive, having picked out your outfit and prepared yourself for his lecture weeks in advance.

Word Count: 2.3k

Contains: professor!hotch x student!reader

A/N: Welcome to the first chapter of Teacher’s Pet, a Professor!Hotch AU (Yes, I changed the title for the second time). Oh, and imagine readers wearing the outfit above. Last thing to keep in mind, the university is totally made up, but the mechanics are modeled after my uni.

The start of the new semester rolled around quickly, signaling the end of summer and the start of yet another academic year. You weren’t looking forward to the start of the semester until you reviewed your course schedule and saw his name, Aaron Hotchner. The name alone brought back memories of why you registered for the class in the first place.

Fall registration rolled around sometime in March. You had put it off for a while, but you needed to sign up for a university lecture, as your school required every student to take two before graduation. Luckily you were able to take one relevant to your major, so all you needed was one more.

As you scrolled through the course catalog, you were doomed to be unlucky. Everything was completely out of your field of study, and none were remotely interesting, though there was one that sounded like it could be. Intro to Profiling? Hmm.

You click on the course to read more. As you read the course description, the class seemed to be more and more like something you should register for. The lecture meets on Mondays and has discussion sections on Wednesdays at 10 am. The course would be taught by Aaron Hotchner and some TAs would lead the discussion sections.

Aaron Hotchner? Because you weren’t a criminology major, you’d never heard the name before, so you decided to do some research. You did this every semester: Look up the professors and see if there were any major red flags before signing up for their courses. As you Googled Aaron Hotchner, all you saw were articles upon articles about his achievements at the Behavioral Analysis Unit or BAU. Most are about the cases he has worked on, and others about his leadership as the Unit Chief of the BAU.

Clearly, the man was well-educated in the field of profiling, not that it really mattered to you. Now for the ultimate final test: RateMyProfessor. You go on the site and type in his name. Thankfully, several results popped up. Most were from Georgetown University in DC, but a few were from your small private school.

The reviews varied, but they all had one commonality: the man was strict. “Insanely strict,” one reviewer put it. That same reviewer went on to complain that he "failed them." You started to become hesitate. As you continued scrolling through the reviews, more and more said things like “Don't take his class” and “He refuses to give A’s.”

As a person who craved academic validation in the form of a 4.0 GPA, straight As, and high praise from your professors, your brain was screaming RUN. However, a small voice in the back of your head told you to continue your research, so you did.

You read through some of the more nicer reviews. “He's strict as hell, but put in the effort, and you'll get a B.” another reviewer said. Another wrote, “Forced to take this horrible class, but my God, does the professor put the hot in Hotchner!” Your eyes widen at that. Secretly, you always wanted to witness the hot professor trope in action; maybe this was your chance.

You go back to Google and look for images of the man. Since he had been in the press quite a bit, it wasn't hard to find several photos of him in action. Some of the photos were from press conferences, others were taken from the scene. You study each picture you come across like it was a painting. You take in the lines on his face, the browns of his eyes and hair, and the mole on the right of his nose. Right then, your mind was made up; you were taking his class.

As you were preparing for the start of the fall semester, you huffed at all the clothes in your closet—or, according to you, the lack thereof. Hours later, you decide on a more preppy look. You choose a pale blue button-up, a plaid skirt, and a navy blue blazer for your outfit on Monday. The look felt like a cliche, the teacher's pet kind of cliche, but you wanted to impress Professor Hotchner, so you pushed the doubts aside.

The weekend could not have gone by any slower. By the time Monday came, you were antsy. You woke up later than you would have liked, at 8:30, giving you less than an hour to get ready if you wanted to be early for class. One thing you did not want to do was show up late on the first day, especially to Professor Hotchner's lecture. Another commonality those RateMyProfessor reviews had was that Professor Hotchner hated lateness.

You rushed out of bed, brewed yourself a cup of coffee, and got dressed. By the time you were dressed and ready to go, it was nine o'clock. Crap! You didn't have time to make breakfast, so you left the house, stopped in your favorite local cafe, and grabbed a quick bite and another cup of coffee. You were by no means a morning person, so caffeine was a must for a 10 am class, especially one you feared would kick your ass. He had better be worth it, you thought, as you made your way to the classroom listed on your schedule.

The campus was quiet in the mornings, so thankfully, you didn't have to deal with crowds of students. You searched the halls of classrooms before coming across room 213. The door was closed, making you think you were late, but when you glanced at your watch, it was 9:46. You sighed and slowly opened the door into the classroom. Your heart was pounding as you entered the room, which was empty except for one man. You gulp as you look around.

“You're early,” a deep voice spoke.

You look at the man standing in front of the class. He was facing the chalkboard, so you couldn't see his face, but you knew who he was. After he finished writing on the board, he turned around and faced you. “Well, I didn't want to be late on the first day, so...” your voice trailed off as you took in the man now facing you. He looks down at a sheet of paper on the desk in front of him. “What's your name?” he asks while looking at the sheet of paper.

“Y/N,” you answer.

“Y/N, Y/N... Ah, found you,” he mutters, assumely marking you present for class. The sound of your name falling from his tongue mesmerized you. His voice was deep and commanding, and you didn't know if it turned you on or terrified you. He looks up at you again, taking in your frozen state. “Well, uh, find a seat. We'll start at exactly ten o'clock,” he said, returning to work.

You walk toward the middle of the classroom, not wanting to sit in the front or back. Once you sit down, you take out your note-taking materials and wait as students begin to fill the empty seats.

As soon as the clock struck 10, Professor Hotchner began class.

“As many of you already know, the next fifteen weeks will be your introduction to the study of profiling. I will be your instructor on Mondays for the lecture portion of the class. On Wednesdays, my TAs will lead you in discussion. We'll get to introductions in a moment,” Professor Hotchner pauses, picking up a thick stack of papers before handing them off to one of the TAs, who begins distributing the papers to the students.

“The syllabus for the semester is going around. I expect you all to keep up with this, and should any of this change, I will let you know via email. Now, does everyone have a syllabus?” the professor scans the room before continuing. “Good. Let’s get started. My name is Aaron Hotchner. I’ve been a profiler for almost twenty years now and am the Unit Chief of the Behavioral Analysis Unit over at Quanco. My TAs are my colleagues who help me profile all sorts of cases from kidnapping to serial crime.”

Professor Hotchner goes on to talk about his work at the FBI. You dazed off into space shortly after. Rather than pay attention to what was being said, you paid attention to who was speaking. That one review was right. He was hot and completely your type—no one would ever know this because you knew admitting to liking older men would elicit judgemental looks of disgust. Although you were well aware of your preference, you couldn't help but feel like it was a fucked-up fantasy that would never come true. Regardless, it couldn't hurt to dream a little.

“I will expect a level of professionalism from you all and will require your undivided attention during class. If I catch you glancing at your phone, that will be the last time you will have it out during class. You may get away with stuff like that in your other classes, but not in this one. Do I make myself clear?” He pauses, remaining authoritative. The class nods as if this was the moment in the horror movie when the victims knew they were going to die.

“I also expect you to arrive to class on time as we start promptly at ten and end at eleven thirty. If you are late, you will receive dedications in your final grade. Attendance accounts for twenty percent. Remember that.” Professor Hotchner scanned the room, ensuring everyone understood his expectations. His eyes stopped toward the middle of the classroom where you were sitting before turning his gaze to the desk before him.

Man, he sure has high expectations. Do people really fail for being late? You were never one for lateness, but sometimes it's inevitable. You looked around the classroom. Everyone looked terrified, as if they were going to pee their pants. One or two students looked up to the challenge, eager to learn from him—makes sense considering he's the best profiler out there.

Professor Hotchner's firm voice continues, “For your midterm, you will present a profile. For your final, you will write a ten-page essay, which we will discuss in further detail later in the semester. Just note that if you pay attention in class, study hard, and take notes, you'll pass. You may not pass with an A, but I'll admit this class isn't an easy one, so simply passing is quite the accomplishment.” His eyes once again seem to gravitate toward you, and this time, they linger.

“I can already tell whose going to pass and who isn't, but I hope I'm wrong, and you'll all pass. So, prove me wrong,” Professor Hotchner chuckles as he prepares to go over the syllabus.

“How?” you ask before you even realize it. Once you realized you spoke, your eyes widened, and there you were, a deer in the fluorescent lights of the lecture hall.

A hint of a smirk appears on Professor Hotchner's face. You were eager to learn, and he liked that. “Body language reveals so much. I can learn a lot about someone just by observing them,” he spoke professionally.

You ponder his words before speaking, “So you can profile us based on our body language?”

Professor Hotchner's smirk fades and his expression becomes more serious. “No, not exactly,” he answers, his tone firm and serious. “Profiling is about using observations and knowledge to get a sense of a person's behavior. Body language is part of it, but a lot more work goes into it.”

You nod and go back to remaining silent.

Professor Hotchner finishes the class by going over the syllabus in great detail and answering questions, “Alright, that's it for today. I will see you all next week.” Students quickly begin leaving the lecture hall, and the TAs follow, leaving you and the professor alone in the big, empty classroom.

“I appreciate your questions in class today. I hope you'll continue asking questions throughout the semester. Don't be too intimidated by the content. I know it's a lot, but I can tell you're one of the brighter students in the class,” Professor Hotchner said as you exited the row you were sitting in.

You smiled at that. It was nice to hear a professor praise you for once. “Thanks, I didn't mean to interrupt you or anything,” you began before he cut you off.

“Nonsense. You didn't interrupt me.”

You pause at that. For someone so strict, he seemed nice, almost welcoming. “Well, uh, thanks away. I'll see you next week,” you said, turning to exit the room.

“Wait! I uh couldn't help but notice you don't seem like a criminology major, so why take this class?” the professor ejects, looking you over.

You face him, surprised that he knew without actually knowing you. “How did you figure that out?” you said.

He chuckles, looking down at his shoes. “Well, you're dressed like a schoolgirl. Your demeanor is curious yet kind, and you looked at me the entire class rather than at the syllabus or your classmates. Criminology students tend to be professional and overly confident and see their peers as competition. They show up to class right on time, not early, dressed like they already work at the FBI, and pay most attention to those around them.”

You were stunned. How did he observe all this in only 90 minutes? Was he really paying attention to you?

“So what's your major?” Professor Hotchner repeats his earlier question.

“Literature,” you answer.

He smirks, “That makes sense. It suits you. Hopefully, you'll find my class just as suitable.”

You smile, “I hope so, too. Goodbye, Professor.” You exit the class, taking one look back at him before closing the door behind you. He is going to be the death of me, you thought as you walked down the hall, anxious for it to be Monday again.

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#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotch x reader #hotch x reader #professor!au #professor!hotch #professor x student #professor!hotch x student!reader #student!reader #ssa aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner x y/n

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