#and now that reid’s out of the picture we can get back on track with a realistic jj character arc

[heavenly-fag]

of course getting back into criminal minds means i check the tumblr tag and all i can say is tone down the reid smut and give me more content from those beautiful ladies

[ddejavvu]

omg part two for hotch scrolling through your ig pretty please 😭😭 like IMAGINE penelope gathering the rest of the gang so they can collectively stalk your instagram and she accidentally likes one of your pictures while lurking

Penelope isn't often scared of Hotch, because the man has a soft spot for her, and she knows it. But now he's staring at her with a stern glare, something she's not usually on the receiving end of. She shifts on her heels, strangely speechless.

"Sir? Is everything okay?"

He lets her suffer in silence for a moment longer, then gestures towards his phone face-up on the desk. It's lit up with a text notification, and she faintly recognizes the name that it's attached to.

Y/N Y/L/N: Isn't this your computer whiz?

"Open it." Hotch instructs, his voice unfailingly calm, which sets Penelope even further on edge. She reaches out with a trembling finger to tap on the notification and it opens your thread, the screen entirely consumed with a screenshot you'd taken of your instagram. Sure enough, in your notifications page is a note: baby_girl_penny_g liked your photo.

"Um," Penelope stalls, and despite her rampant creativity, she can't bring herself to fib, "Well, I- the tags were-"

"There were no hashtags," Hotch stops her in her tracks, "The only way you could have found that photo was on her profile. How long ago was that posted?"

Penelope scrolls to the bottom of the post even though she doesn't want to, and mutters "2018."

"Five years ago. Five-" Hotch steels himself before he gets too upset, pinching the slim bridge of his nose, "Garcia, did Morgan tell you about this?"

"it wasn't his fault," She pleads his case, "I could tell there was something on his mind! So I got him, like, super drunk, and we-"

"Penelope, this was none of your business." Hotch speaks over her. He doesn't like cutting her off, but he knows her, and she'll talk for hours just to try and weasel her way back into his good graces. He watches her squirm with a stern expression, hands folded on his desk while he clenches his jaw.

"I won't tell anyone else." She promises weakly, and Aaron raises a single eyebrow at her. Secret-keeping is not her forte, and they both know it.

"Okay, so-" She crumples, "I- I totally will. But Hotch, we're gonna be happy for you! I'm already happy for you, you deserve this! You deserve love, even if you try to use this job as an excuse not to find it! You found it, and you should own it."

"I purposefully did not share the status of my relationship with our team. It was meant to be private."

Penelope regains some of her boldness now, even in the face of Hotch's scowl, "Well tough shit, Hotchner! We love you, and we were all there when you lost Haley! We watched you die inside, and we deserve to watch you live again! We are part of your family, Hotch, whether you like it or not, and we're not gonna walk away just because you get snippy with us! So help me, Hotch, I will handcuff myself to you until you realize that we are here. We are here, and we love you, and we always will! You can tell us about your life, because we want to enjoy it with you."

Perhaps she shouldn't have been so forward. Perhaps she shouldn't have said the H-word, or brought up Hotch's infuriating tendency to distrust people's care for him not out of malice, but out of self-loathing. Perhaps she should have hung her head and apologized, but Penelope Garcia is headstrong, and she does not fear the tense wrath of Aaron Hotchner simply for loving him.

For a moment, she worries that she's flaunted a red cape around a bull. Reid's words echo in her mind about how it's nothing to do with the color red, and everything to do with the movement of the fabric, but now is not the time, Doctor Reid, thank you very much. She waits for him to charge, knows he'll withdraw now that she's faced him with the terror of being known, of being cared for, and she can feel her heart sink to the nearly-numb heels of her feet.

Then something in his jaw shifts, and he glances away from her, blinking.

"Thank you." He murmurs, and she thinks she may have heard him wrong.

"What?" She whispers, and he gnaws at the inside of his cheek, caving it in.

"Thank you. For being firm with me." He clarifies, "I... I'm glad that you're here."

Tears spring to her eyes and she nods vigorously, incapable of speech but overflowing with emotion. He swallows, clearing his throat, "In the future, please do not stalk my romantic partners. And... in the future, I will introduce you, so that you don't need to stalk them."

"Okay," She grins through her misty eyes, letting him steer the conversation back towards his comfort zone, "Okay, Hotch. We love you. And- and we're really happy for you, and can I please go and tell the others?"

He laughs despite himself, and doesn't bother steeling himself into composure anymore. He grins, "Fine. But leave out the details of her most recent posts, please."

"The ones where she talks about being sore in the mornings?" She fixes him with a devious grin, already making for the door intent on shouting the news from the rooftops, "I won't say it in the bullpen, 'cause Reid couldn't handle it, but I'm totally gossiping with the girls about it, Hotch."

[kenzirr]

Spencer x Techie!reader???

You're huddled over your computer in the tech room, the soft glow of multiple screens casting shadows across the walls. Garcia is beside you, her fingers flying over the keyboard as she digs up information for the latest case. The team is in New York, tracking a brutal serial killer, and the tension in the air is thick. You've been the team’s lifeline back at Quantico, supplying them with everything they need to corner this unsub.

It's late, and you can feel the weariness creeping in, but you push it aside. There's no room for fatigue when lives are on the line.

“Ugh, these bastards never sleep,” Garcia mutters under her breath, her eyes glued to the screen. “Why can’t serial killers take a day off?”

You chuckle, though the sound is tinged with exhaustion. “If only. But then we wouldn’t get to save the day and make the world a little safer.”

“True,” she agrees, glancing over at you with a soft smile. “You’ve been killing it on this case, you know? Spencer’s been singing your praises every time he calls.”

Your eyebrows raise slightly. “Has he now? I thought he was just being polite.”

Garcia gives you a knowing look. “Oh, honey, Spencer doesn’t call anyone that much unless he’s interested. Trust me, I’ve known the boy long enough.”

Before you can respond, your phone buzzes, Spencer’s name flashing on the screen. You answer it quickly.

“Hey, genius. What do you need?”

"Well, I need some help tracking down a list of associates connected to our unsub, but…” Spencer’s voice is calm, but there’s a slight edge to it, something that makes you sit up a little straighter.

"But?" you prompt, curious.

"Did anyone ever tell you that you have a really nice laugh?" he asks, his tone more playful than usual.

You blink in surprise, glancing at Garcia, who’s already raising an eyebrow at you. “Not really. Are you trying to distract me, Reid?”

"Maybe," he replies smoothly, sounding more confident than usual. "I just think it’s something worth mentioning."

You can’t help the smile that tugs at your lips. “Thanks, Spencer. You know, you’re not so bad yourself.”

There’s a brief pause on the other end, and you can almost picture the shy smile that’s probably forming on his face. “Well, I think I’m going to have to step up my game then.”

You laugh softly, feeling a warmth spreading in your chest. “You might just have to.”

Garcia is grinning wildly next to you, making it hard for you to keep a straight face.

“So, about that list of associates… I’m sending the details to you now,” you say, trying to bring the conversation back to business, though the playful undertone lingers.

“Perfect, thank you,” Spencer says. “I’ll, uh, talk to you later?”

“You better,” you reply, hanging up the phone with a smile that doesn’t fade.

Garcia immediately pounces, her eyes wide with excitement. “Oh my God, what did I just witness? Are we about to see the evolution of Spencer Reid’s love life?”

You laugh, shaking your head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, come on!” she exclaims, throwing her hands up dramatically. “The boy is clearly smitten. And you—” she points a finger at you, “—are loving every second of it.”

You try to hide your smile, but it’s impossible. “Okay, fine. It’s… cute. He’s cute.”

Garcia grins, wiggling her eyebrows. “You’re gonna have to tell me everything once you two finally go out.”

Before you can respond, the phone rings again. This time it’s Derek, calling from the field.

“Hey, Morgan,” you answer, trying to sound casual.

“Hey, sunshine,” Derek’s deep voice rumbles through the phone. “How’s everything going over there?”

“Busy, as usual,” you reply, glancing at Garcia, who’s listening intently.

“Good, good,” he says, then lowers his voice. “Listen, I was just talking to Reid—how’s he doing with, you know, being more... open?”

You can’t help but laugh, even though you try to keep it quiet. “He’s… doing alright. Why, giving him lessons now?”

“Just a little push in the right direction,” Derek says with a chuckle. “He’s got the brains, but when it comes to women, he’s a little… let’s say, inexperienced.”

“I’ll take that into consideration,” you tease. “But he’s doing fine. Actually, he’s kinda sweet.”

Derek laughs, and you can practically hear him grinning. “That’s what I like to hear. Anyway, I need you to run a background check on a new lead we’ve got. Garcia’s sending you the details.”

“Got it,” you say, and the call ends.

You turn back to Garcia, who’s already typing away. “So, Reid’s getting dating advice from Morgan now?”

“Looks like it,” you reply, feeling a strange mix of amusement and something else—something warmer. “I think it’s working.”

Garcia shoots you a sly smile. “I knew it. You’re totally into him.”

“Maybe,” you admit, feeling your cheeks warm. “But let’s focus on catching this unsub first.”

She laughs, nodding as she gets back to work. “Deal. But after this case is over, you’re telling me everything.”

---

Spencer stands a bit nervously beside Derek as they review the latest information you've just sent over. He’s trying to focus, but his mind keeps drifting back to your conversation. Derek notices and nudges him with his elbow.

"What's on your mind, pretty boy?" Derek asks, already knowing the answer.

"Uh, nothing," Spencer lies, glancing away.

Derek smirks, leaning in closer. “C’mon, man, you were smooth back there. She was totally into it. You’ve just got to keep that momentum going.”

Spencer shifts uncomfortably. “I don’t know, Derek. I’m not sure if she’s interested like that.”

“She is,” Derek says confidently. “Trust me, I’ve seen the way she looks at you. Now all you have to do is ask her out—no history facts, no statistics, just be you, but with a little confidence.”

Spencer considers this for a moment, then nods slowly. “Okay. I’ll try.”

“Atta boy,” Derek grins, clapping Spencer on the back. “Now let’s go catch this unsub, so you can get back and ask her out properly.”

---

The night drags on as you and Garcia dig deeper into the unsub’s past. The list of potential associates narrows down, and finally, you find the connection that ties everything together.

“This is it,” you say, pointing at the screen. “This is the guy they’re looking for.”

Garcia quickly sends the information over to the team. “Alright, let’s hope this helps them nail the bastard.”

A few hours later, the team calls to confirm they’ve apprehended the unsub, thanks to your lead. There’s a collective sigh of relief in the tech room, and you and Garcia share a victorious high-five.

“You know what this means, right?” Garcia says, grinning at you. “Celebratory drinks. And maybe a certain genius will be buying?”

You laugh, the exhaustion from earlier lifting slightly. “Maybe. We’ll see.”

Garcia winks at you, her smile wide and mischievous. “Oh, we will definitely see.”

---

By the time the team returns to Quantico, it’s nearly morning. You and Garcia are wrapping up when the door opens, and Spencer walks in, looking tired but relieved.

“Hey,” you greet him with a smile.

“Hey,” he replies, a bit shyly. “Thanks for all your help. We couldn’t have done it without you.”

“You did most of the hard work,” you say modestly, but the look he gives you makes your heart skip a beat.

“Still, I wanted to thank you,” Spencer says, his voice soft. “And I was wondering if… maybe you’d like to grab dinner sometime?”

Garcia, pretending to be busy with her computer, smirks behind the screen.

You grin, nodding. “I’d like that.”

“Great,” Spencer says, visibly relieved. “I’ll, um, text you the details?”

“Looking forward to it,” you reply, feeling a warm glow spread through you.

As Spencer heads out, Garcia lets out a small squeal of excitement. “Finally! You’re going to be so cute together!”

You laugh, shaking your head. “I guess we’ll find out.”

“Trust me, I know,” Garcia says confidently, winking at you. “Now go home and get some rest—you’ve got a date to prepare for.”

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Shrouded Mysteries

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Princess!Reader

Word Count: ~1.7k

Warnings: none

Summary: More of your mysterious past comes to light as the search for you is on. Your "uncle" is making sure that you don't get found out and sent back to your home country. If only you can tell Spencer the truth instead of lying to him.

Play Pretend Masterlist

Square Filled: slowed heartbeat for @mfbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

Spencer practically bounces into work on Tuesday morning. You have not left his mind since taking you out on the impromptu lunch date. He’s honestly never met anyone like you before which is why he’s so enthralled with you. He thought it was a bit weird that you didn’t know how to eat a cheeseburger but who is he to judge? He doesn’t know how to do a lot of things and often gets judged for it.

Derek walks out of the break room sipping his much-needed coffee when he sees Spencer at his desk. JJ and Pen follow him out of the break room and chuckle at the smile on his face.

“Why are you all smiles this past week?”

“Nothing.”

“Spit it out, kid. Who is she?”

“Why do you assume it’s a she?”

“No one makes a man smile like you’ve been smiling more than a woman.”

“Is it that girl you went to see the other day at the coffee place?”

“Okay, now I gotta know about her,” Derek grins.

“It’s nothing. It’s new. I don’t even know what we are or where it’s going to be. I just had lunch with her that one time.”

“What’s her name?” Penelope asks, sitting down at Derek’s desk.

“I’m not telling you.”

“Spence, we’re not going to stalk this girl.”

“I am. What’s her name?”

Spencer knows he’s not going to win this with three of his coworkers ganging up on him.

“Y/N.”

“Let’s look her up, shall we?”

“No, don’t do that.”

It’s too late. Derek and JJ are huddled around Penelope as she types quickly. He sighs and walks around them to see what she pulls up. He’s curious since there is such mystery surrounding you. Penelope finds an Instagram profile that matches the name Spencer gave her.

“Is this her?”

“Yeah.”

At face value, you look like a normal American girl. Spencer detected an accent in your voice that you were trying to hide. Besides that and not knowing how to eat a cheeseburger, you seem perfectly normal. Your Instagram shows it, too. You have pictures of you on the beach, in the mountains, in parks with your dogs, and traveling with friends and families. Someone who has experienced life to the fullest.

“From what I can see, she has two brothers and one sister and she really likes surfing, playing piano, and hanging out with her family.”

“Check her Twitter,” JJ says.

“Okay, no, you’re done. Enough stalking her.”

Spencer gives them their moment to tease, and Penelope chuckles before exiting out of Instagram.

“It’s good to see you happy, kid.”

Spencer takes a seat at his desk to get to work but he can’t get you out of his mind. Don came to visit you while at work, and your manager gave you permission to take your break earlier. You and Don are sitting outside where there aren’t any customers because it’s getting hot. No many people are walking outside so Don thinks it’s perfect to have this conversation here.

“Here, I got you a new cellphone. Don’t worry, they can’t track it.” You open your mouth to speak but Don shakes his head. “Don’t ask.” He takes out a small ID and hands it to you. “Here is your new driver’s license. I also did you a favor by creating social media accounts for you with pictures that my friend helped make. Everyone in this day and age has some sort of digital footprint. It would be weird if you didn’t have it.”

“Thanks.”

Your heart starts to race a bit from how nervous you are and you can’t help but fiddle with your fingers underneath the table. You look at the people passing by across the street and immediately smile when you see the one person who you can’t get out of your head. Don sees the smile and turns to see Spencer walking over to the Coffee Shop. Your heartbeat immediately slows down because you feel safe with him. You’re not sure why since he’s a stranger to you but you feel like you can trust him.

“Hi, Spencer,” you grin.

“I’ll see you at home,” Don clears his throat.

He leaves just as Spencer gets to the table. He takes the seat Don was sitting in and watches him walk away.

“That’s my uncle.”

“Where are your parents?” Spencer asks and turns back around.

“Away. They’re out of town for work. They won’t be back for a while.”

“What do they do?”

You’re not prepared to be interrogated mostly because you never did your homework on this new life. You should have on the plane ride over here, but you were too busy researching the history of America to research yours.

“You know, work. It’s complicated. They do so much.”

Spencer chalks it up to you wanting to be private so he respects that and moves the conversation along. It’s weird since your Instagram shows you being your family and he thought that meant you were close with them.

“What are you doing here?” you ask.

“I wanted to see you.”

“Here I am,” you smile. “Oh, I got my new phone. Can I give you my number?”

“Yeah.” Spencer takes out his phone and hands it over to you. You input your name and number into his phone before handing it back to him. He immediately calls your phone so that you have his number. “Listen, I also wanted to ask you if you’re busy this weekend.”

“I shouldn’t be, why?”

“I’d like to take you out if that’s okay.”

“Like a date?” Spencer nods shyly, and you give him an encouraging smile. “I’d love to. Where are we going?”

“Now, if I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise. Don’t worry, I think you’re going to love it.”

“I’m excited,” you grin.

“I have to get back to work but can I stop by at lunch and take you out again?”

“Yeah.”

Spencer grins and leaves the table right after. You watch him walk off with a happy sigh. This… this is everything you’ve wanted. The quiet peaceful life with someone to look forward to every day. It might be boring in some people’s eyes but it’s everything your old life can’t give to you. You think back to your parents and how worried they must be not knowing where their daughter is. You want to feel bad for what you did but if you feel bad then you’ll feel guilty and guilt leads to you going back there…

Yacleira. Home to your nightmares.

Your mother, Calliope, paces the throne room anxiously while your father, Elliot, sits on the throne overlooking the enormous room. Calliope is almost in tears because, for the past week, she and her husband haven’t been able to locate their only daughter and heir to the throne. They have searched Yacleira and every crack and crevice she has but you’re nowhere to be found. That means you must be in a different country but they’ve contacted Spain, Saudi Arabia, Norway, and England but none of them have seen or heard from you.

Elliot already had his time to explode in anger for letting his daughter get away but now he’s calm with silent rage. Not only is he very protective of you, his daughter, but also the future queen of Yacleira. Without you, they will have to find a new bloodline to take over the throne and that is not going to happen. Your family has been reigning for half a century and it’s not going to stop now.

“Calliope, darling, please quit pacing. You’re making them nervous.”

She looks over at the Harringtons of Vosharia. Felix, Cecelia, and their son Henry who was meant to be married to you had you not run off to play house in another country. This arranged marriage is a way of connecting the two countries to keep their alliances strong without issue. People in Vosharia are trying to overthrow people in Yacleira mostly for their land. They’re both small but very powerful countries and one will not give up their land for the other. This marriage is a way to unite the two together to become stronger. Henry has been quiet about the situation but his parents are ever so vocal about being made fools at the altar.

“Do you realize what will happen if word about this gets out? The outroar both of us will have to endure?” Felix asks angrily.

“We’ll find her,” Calliope says.

“You better because if you don’t, you can kiss that peace treaty goodbye. We will be at war,” Felix glares at Elliot.

“You have made your point, Felix. We do not need your judgment at a time like this,” Elliot glares back. “I suggest you go back to Vosharia and wait for our word. We will find our daughter and she will wed Henry. The deadline isn’t due for another six months.”

“Sweetheart, we should just go. You’ve made your point,” Cecelia says.

“Fine. We will come back in exactly one month hoping for progress.”

With that, the Harringtons leave the building, escorted by their own guards. Calliope is worried about the state of her country but she is worried about you more. Where could you be? What are you doing? Are you in danger? Did you leave because you had to or because you wanted to? The Richmonds don’t have enough time to rest because their head of security, Kylen, enters with your personal bodyguard who has been assigned to you since birth, Benjamin.

“Did you find her?” Elliot asks and stands up.

“No, sir. I figure if anyone can find her, it’s Ben.”

It’s true. Sebastián knows you better than you know yourself. If you were planning on leaving the country, he’d know about it or know where you’d go if you managed to sneak by him.

“You’re sure you don’t know what happened?” Calliope asks.

“No, Your Majesty. I was away when she escaped. She knew me just as much as I knew her. She knew when I’d be away from her.”

“Find her, Benjamin,” Elliot glares.

“I will do everything possible to bring her home to you.”

He knows you fled to the United States because he’s the one who put you on the goddamn plane. He just doesn’t know where. He made it clear to Don not to tell him where you were for this exact reason. He’d do anything to make you happy even if it means escaping from everything you’ve ever known.

x

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[sweatervest-obsessed]

To Make Sure I Stay Sane

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

WC: ~4k

TW: Blood, Torture, swearing, guns, police, violence, knives, trauma, slight ptsd but horrible coping mechanisms, mental illness, depression, ANGST.

A/N: I'm picturing season 4 Spence but y'all can picture whichever one you want. Inspired by Six Below by Flipturn! I thought y'all deserved an extra Spencer bit since I made you wait so long for the last one. A sweet treat if you will. Enjoy babes!!

I am a man on the run Running on two empty lungs Running from my own mind And things I hide inside Some call it sweet temptation

Only a handful of people get the extreme privilege of having their cover blown by the FBI, specifically the BAU, and even more specifically, Derek Fucking Morgan. 

If he had followed orders, and kept his mouth in line, then maybe this would have turned out better, maybe you’d be back in your house, checked in with your handler, and able to sleep for another night. But no. He pulls you over in the middle of the bar you worked at, and regardless of how hard you tried to get away from him, your efforts were ignored. He then ambushed you in the parking lot, trying to get you to listen. Talking to a fed could get you killed, and you were about to face that fear.

Freezers are quite comfortable when you’ve worked in the restaurant industry for long enough, but something about the way the mold perfumed the air in this one really seemed to bug the shit out of you. 

You had been trying to keep track–maybe 36 hours— of how long you had been tied to this chair. You’ve only seen three people, but considering you had seen so many places struggling for able bodies, having three goons to rotate watch on someone was very impressive to you. If you weren’t tied to the chair, and not an undercover fed, and it was a different life, maybe that third one would have been your type. 

Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the freezer squeaking open, and a woman walked in.

“Safya…”

“Alice.” She nodded, pulling up a chair across from you. The slightly attractive goon left the room, closing the freezer door behind him.

“You know why you’re here…”

You shook your head. “No I–”

“--I’ll let you know when you can speak and defend yourself, yes?”

You nodded and she continued. “Now. I was told you had been speaking to the same FBI agent who’s been pushing doors open that should stay closed. Is this true?”

“Yes.” You whispered. 

“And what did he ask you?”

“About y-you, and about what you and I-I had been, um, doing together.” You licked your lips, trying to speed up your breathing–maybe you should have become an actress, and then all of this could be stopped with a simple shout from a director hiding behind some hidden cameras. 

“And what did you say exactly?” The gun on her thigh flashed as she leaned forward, catching the reflection of the singular light. 

“I told him I only knew you as a customer.” You looked at her, telling the honest to god truth. “That you we-were one of my regulars, and that was it. W-whatever your business is, is-is-isn’t my business.” 

She nodded. “Good good. It’s such a shame really…”

Your eyes widened. “W-what?” 

“Because I know you’re telling the truth. But if he was suspecting you, that means I have to let you go…” 

“Saf please, I-I-I’ll keep my mouth shut, I-’ll Never–”

“Stop.” You closed your mouth, panicking outwardly as you internally tried to come up with some sort of escape plan, or at least some way to tell your cat how much you were going to miss him. “You have three hours once I let you go, to disappear. Understood? If I so much as hear that you’re back, it’s over. Clear?” 

You nodded, suddenly formulating a completely different plan. If she watched you get into an unmarked van when you got out, you’d be fucked, completely. And you’d be jeopardizing the mission. 

So now, instead of getting to do your job, you had to change everything about yourself, and go into hiding without letting anyone know for at least a month, doing your best to let the investigation continue without you.

So that’s what you did. Packed up everything into a small suitcase, gave your cat of three years to the girl on the corner, and picked up your last paycheck, before disappearing to god knows where. Running away.  

Sometimes I don't trust myself Cameras on old empty shelves I live inside my brain To make sure I stay sane Good God, I think I need help

You had been fine, really, a month in some small town in the middle of Georgia, nowhere really. You had never been there before, but truthfully it was very peaceful, and across the country from your assignment. You had been there for only a month before Derek Morgan showed up at your door. 

You were in biker shorts, a large sweater for a top–very Princess Diana of you. It was slightly colder, since it was now March, but you weren’t up in the mountains, allowing you to have some sort of reprieve from the freezing winters you used to live with. 

Opening the door made you mad. You were glaring at him, and a man who seemed to be his partner. 

“You need to leave. Now.” You tried to slam the door, but Derek was quicker than you were, pushing the door open causing you to stumble back. Once the two of them were in your house, you quickly shut the door. The blinds and windows were never opened anyways, and the entrances and exits were all locked, save for the front door. 

“Listen here you motherfucker. Do you know how much you’ve ruined my life?! Because I could fucking tear you apart with my bare tee–”

“Woah, woah, calm down there Agent.”

His partner watched as you flinched at the title, having not heard it in over a month. 

“I don’t think you understand. If I’m seen with you here, I’m dead. Three years of my life, down the drain because you couldn’t take no for an answer. Not very consentual of you Derek. Get out of my house.”

His partner spoke up. “Don’t you want to know why we’re here?” 

“Not really, no.” 

“I’m sorry Agent Morgan blew your cover.” said the skinnier of the two, but you didn’t look at him, still glaring at the Agent in question. 

“Thank you so much. That makes everything sooo much better.” 

“We want to put you in protective custody.” 

That got you to tear your eyes away from Derek and look at the other agent. “I’m sorry, who are you?” 

“I-I-I’m Doctor Spencer, uh, Reid.” You raised an eyebrow, curious about his sudden stutter, his sudden nervousness. 

“What, are you not sure?” 

“N-No–Yes, I mean.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Something about flustering Doctor Reid made him seem incredibly endearing, almost cute. But if this was some other life, you meeting him could have been different and under much better circumstances.

“I’m sure that’s my name.” He mumbled, causing Derek to snort at Reid’s inability to look at you again. 

“You think that’s funny Derek? Ruining other people’s day to feel tough?” You crossed your arms, lips pursed, ready to deck this guy in the face. 

“Okay sweetheart—”

Before he could finish even his thought, you had him pinned down on the ground: face down, ass up. His arm was out straight behind him while you had a death grip on his wrist. Your knee was on his back, holding him in place as you whispered in his ear. “Call me sweetheart again and I won’t stop at just the arm lock. We clear?” 

Derek let out a groan and tried to shift under you, but you dug your knee a little further into the point between his shoulder blades. “What was that Agent Morgan?” 

“yes–Yes! Okay, jesus.” He grumbled, sighing in relief as you got off of him, looking over at Spencer. 

“Would you like something to drink, Doctor Reid? I have tea or coffee…water?” 

Spencer was simply dazed with the way you switched between agent and yourself, it was surely some skill you had to pick up while being in deep cover for three years. 

“Spencer?” 

“Y-Yes, sorry. Water would, uh, water would be good. Thank you.” 

That’s when you killed him, stopping his heart in one simple motion. 

It wasn’t even a full one, but the corner of your mouth lifted up, providing him with a glimpse of a genuine smile, a crack in the stone cold facade you placed to protect yourself. He smiled back as Derek got up, rubbing his wrist and grumbling in pain. 

“I assume you like black coffee Agent Morgan.” you called from the kitchen, to which all you got was a grumbled “yes, please.” followed by what seemed like a laugh from Reid. 

Spencer looked around the bare walls, the bare furniture. There were pictures around, sure, but they were of places you had visited, or at least pretended to. There was only one photo frame with a picture of yourself, and based on the edges, he could tell it was folded. From far away it seemed to be just a picture of you; your family hiding in plain sight. 

He picked up the image and tried to determine how old you were. All he knew was that this photo was taken at some sort of wedding. You were laughing, smiling, dancing. 

“I don’t know why I keep that picture anymore.” You spoke softly from the kitchen doorway. “Maybe it’s to remind me that I’m not just an echo of who I was before cover, ya know? I feel like I have to close her off sometimes.” You placed the mug down on the coffee table in front of Derek, along with a packet of sugar. (Derek was astonished that you had managed to deduce that about him). You also placed Spencer’s water down on the coffee table, sitting on the ottoman that was in front of the couch. “Sometimes I don’t trust myself. Feel like I have to keep her with me to make sure I stay sane. Like I constantly have to remind myself that I’m doing this bullshit for a reason.”

“That’s why we’re here.” 

You nodded at Derek, flashing a quick, but hard, smile in his direction. 

“You mentioned Witness Protection?” 

But they say: "oh to be young" Innocent of what's to come

Witness Protection felt like a fucking joke. They had moved you to D.C. so that your favorite, and least favorite, FBI Agents could keep an eye on you. They would check in periodically, calling you from across the same park, walking past you on the street, it was bullshit really. And they had these two idiot, beat cops staying outside of your house each night, with a second undercover bodyguard who followed you around no matter where you went. 

Suddenly you were more paranoid than before because now you knew people were watching you. Just because they claimed to be the good guys didn’t ease any sort of panic you felt. 

Good was subjective. Good for who?

But It was lonely. You were bored. 

You were young. You were hot. You wanted to go out. 

Obviously this was immediately vetoed by your favorite FBI agent, who was no longer your favorite at the moment. 

“You’re ridiculous if you think you’re losing your tail and sneaking off to a club. That is so unsafe Y/N. Do you even know how many people get kidnapped from clubs, especially women? It’s the perfect hunting grounds for rapists and killers and—”

“So come with me.” You bit the side of your cheek, trying not to smile too heavily at yourself in the mirror as you continued to fix up your hair. 

“Absolutely not.” 

“Why not? You get to personally guarantee my safety, plus, you don’t have to drink. You can just be my chaperone. Please Spencer! I haven’t been allowed to go out for the past three and a half years.” 

You continued on when he started to protest again. “I’m going out Spence. Whether you come is completely up to you.” 

You took his prolonged silence as a victory. “Pick me up at 9 then Lover Boy.” You went to hang up the phone before quickly throwing in a “No sweater vests!”

Oh, to be beautiful, each mistake excusable Give into sweet temptation

Somewhere in between the phone calls and the quick brushes past one another, you had fallen for Spencer. The attention to detail, the way he knew everything under the sun and yet nothing at all, the way he would swipe his hand over yours as he sat on a park bench next to you, two companions posing as strangers. 

He would tell you the most fantastical stories, most of which came from what his mother used to read to him. Listening to the way he spoke, the way he would ramble on about anything you could possibly image. You could hear him sighing now, fantasizing about the night to come, the date you had set up for the both of you. He was never one to make the first move.

Which is why you suddenly became nervous at the idea of Spencer seeing you like this. Party girl outfit, hair done, makeup perfectly executed, tits out. Was this who you even were? What if Spencer saw you dressed like this and realized you were just some regular girl, and not this person he had been talking to for the past six months.

It’s not like you had time to change, considering there was knocking at your door, causing you to quickly exit the bedroom and open the door. 

 You barely had time to register who it was before a cloth was pressed over your mouth, and suddenly the world was black. 

So, tell me what do I do? Am I just playing a fool? That never learned to grow old And still has no self-control

Warm. It was too warm. Your eyelids were heavy, and you couldn’t bring yourself to open them just yet, but it felt like you were back in the southwest. Your wrists tried to circle, but failed stunningly considering they were zip tied behind your back on whatever shitty wooden chair you were stuck on. 

“She’s alive!” goosebumps. Your body entered fight or flight mode, immediately causing your eyes to pop open, squinting until they adjusted to the shitty lighting. 

“Safya.” You mumbled. “Long time, no see.” 

“You look so good dearest. What were your plans? Night on the town with that sweet Doctor?” 

You didn’t react, only looking straight ahead at her, mentally preparing yourself for whatever she was about to throw at you. 

“Don’t worry Y/N, we’ll get you to talk soon enough. You had to have assumed we would find you, I mean really. How foolish did you become? And lacking in such self control–it’s embarrassing.” 

You felt your entire world crumble, dissolve into nothingness. But your face stayed motionless, betraying nothing. All you could do was hope that Spencer was not far behind them, dealing with whatever it was that you had managed to get yourself into. 

I know what everybody knows Die young or you can grow old Until they bury you six below

There was a joke you had with your dad growing up: “Die a hero, or live long enough to see yourself become the villain.” He would crack that joke at you when you would shit on his old people music or when he would take away your phone because you were grounded. 

Part of you had never fully understood the meaning of the phrase until tonight. 

Your face was pristine, not a scar on it. 

The rest of your body? The same could not be said. 

It ached. You were exhausted. And somehow you barely remembered any of it, just knowing that sometimes she would use knives, other times you wouldn’t be so lucky. 

So when she placed the gun against your head, standing off against the BAU, you finally got it. The trauma, the scars, the emotional devastation. 

Even worse, you sighed out of relief when she did.

She had spent over thirty hours torturing you, except you had no idea of what day it even was, considering you were halfway here, mind retreating in on itself.

You had been investigating Safya for her innate tortures of those close to her–it’s why you were undercover in the first place. The deaths surrounding her were all genuine suicides, she would never touch them after they were released from the warehouse. But their tragic end was posted in the morning edition several days later. 

“It’s over.” You heard some man’s voice call out. It was stern. It sounded authoritative. If you wanted to open your eyes, you would’ve watched as the agents attempted to distract the woman, holding you tightly against her own body. 

It felt nice to stand after so long, your legs barely supporting you. The stinging sensation of the cuts and burns melded with the sensation of your legs waking up. Your mind was enjoying the feeling. Some sort of fucked up post-torture torture, enjoying the fact that you could still feel your legs. 

People were talking across you, but all you could do was fall into your mind further. This was a win-win for you. Safya shoots you, and boom–dead. Safya doesn’t surrender, and the likelihood of you being in the firing range, boom—dead. At least you’d be able to rest then, finally able to let the ache in your bones, in your mind rest. 

But then you heard his voice. 

That same voice that had kept you sane while you were hiding away from the world. The same voice that provided the only routine you were allowed. The same voice that talked to you from sundown to sun up, letting you relish in the knowledge he carried with him.

Spencer.

It was somehow still soft, but you could tell he was very serious at the moment. You aren’t sure what he said, but you started to laugh. It started small, your mouth twitching and laughing through your nose, but it grew and grew, until suddenly you were almost doubled over in laughter. 

The entire room was silent, except for the sound of you losing your mind. 

Safya released her hold on you, letting you drop to the floor, a small smirk across her face as the gun clattered to the ground. 

What a sight you must’ve been, barely holding your chest up with your arms, laughing maniacally into the ground. 

She had broken you. 

The smirk didn’t leave her face as SSA Derek Morgan roughly placed cuffs on her wrists and shoved her out of the warehouse. 

Your laughing didn’t stop for another whole minute. And Spencer waited. He sat next to you as your laughs slowly turned into sobs and your whole body collapsed into him. Your blood was all over the floor, all over the tools on the table she had, all over you. But he didn’t care. 

He just held you as you cried and cried into him, eventually willing to let the EMTs take a look at you, on the condition that Spencer held your hand the entire time. 

Once you were out of the warehouse, and stuck snugly in the back of a large, black SUV, Spencer beside you, you leaned your head against the window. There was no recognition as cars passed by, no jumping when horns blared, you just sat still, mind far off. 

Spencer held your hand the entire ride, but it didn’t feel like enough to bring that girl back you once knew. It didn’t feel like living was worth anything now that she had disappeared from your view. 

You saw the photo burn in your mind, watching as the flames consumed your smile, leaving you with nothing but a pile of ash and the pieces of a mind that might not ever be placed back together again. 

So you lived, but at what cost? 

Live long enough to tell your sons Things you learned when you were young So maybe I can have some self-control

Years later, you would sit in your new apartment, watching the sunset with a mug in your hands and a blanket around your arms. You unconsciously ran a hand up and down your thigh, feeling the healed marks and the scars that added texture in a place that should have felt smooth. 

Something in the sky told you the day would not stay as beautiful as it had started. Your phone beeped, a message from Spencer. 

He checked in with you every night he wasn’t home with you, letting you know he was okay, letting you know he was coming home to you. You quickly sent a text back, telling him you were excited for him to return tomorrow. 

You heard the footsteps before you saw the person they belonged to. Your name was said softly as you placed your phone down on the counter, picking up the little boy, who was still half asleep, wrapped in his dinosaur pajamas and dinosaur blanket. 

“What’s up bud.” You whispered, trying your best at the moment, considering your mind was somewhere far far away. 

What he ended up mumbling out was some varying words that eventually amalgamated to the fact that he couldn’t sleep. 

You nodded and kissed his head. “Want a story?” 

You felt his head nod as he curled into you, not three years old and still so small. You picked him up, carrying him back to his room, and placing him in his bed. You adjusted his nightlight, before picking up one of the thousands of books Spencer had gotten for your son. 

Once he was sound asleep, you placed a soft kiss on the crown on his head, and slowly snuck out of the room, leaving the door open a crack in case that story ended up not sufficing. 

You heard your phone go off, quietly running to pick it up before your child woke up again. 

“Hello?”

“She’s escaped” 

The exhale you let out was a shaky one. 

Spencer had been there to hand you piece after piece as you slowly placed yourself together again. He was there when you screamed in the middle of the night, and he was there when your eyes would flare dangerously with something more than hatred for the woman who had caused you such grief. You still barely wore skirts or shorts, opting to cover every inch you could whenever possible. Spencer watched as you struggled to stay put, mind wandering as far as it could. 

“Y/N?”

“Sorry. Sorry. Just…”

“I know. Spencer is flying home as we speak. I still wanted to call and let you know before hand. Just, uh…You know.” 

“Thanks Derek. I’ll see you soon.” 

It felt wicked. The smile that spreads across your face. And it felt even more devious when you pulled the bottle of champagne off of the shelf it was so beautifully perched on, waiting for a special occasion to pop its cork. 

You didn’t even grab a glass as you looked in the mirror, barely recognizing the person staring back at you. You toasted to yourself, swinging out of the bottle, enjoying as the bubbles slid down your throat as you pulled a chair out into the hallway. You unlocked the top cabinet above the fridge where your son could never reach, and pulled out the gun you used all those years ago. 

Sitting in front of the only door in or out, all windows locked. Your safety was off, and the champagne made you feel invincible as you stared at the door, just waiting for her to knock on your door again, giving you the satisfaction of the opportunity to hurt her the same way she had hurt you. 

Self control had never been your strong suit anyways. 

Live long enough to tell your sons Things you learned when you were young So maybe I can have some self-control

[toxxxic-mess]

Introduction

Hey losers, and Hello Alphas.

This is my new blog, after my previous was once again banned. A few boring bits out of the way though since we’re here.

Firstly; Incase you can’t tell, I’m a beta loser. I believe woman are superior to me, and I can’t compete with real men when it comes to girls. So please don’t ask me to dominate you etc, and also please don’t call me Sir, this is a major turn off for me, just a heads up if we’re chatting and it goes quiet. My preferred pronoun is “it” :)

Also I’m happy to chat to others, it’s why keep coming back despite the constant deactivation of my accounts. But due to the amount of conversations and the amount of gooning etc, I’m less likely to reply to messages that just say hi or how are you etc. Don’t take it offensively, it’s just between a choice of spending time gooning with another loser over a hot girl, or making small talk, becoming a better beta loser will also take precedence.

The reason I post online is because I love being a loser. I love gooning to worse and worse things, and getting others to jerk off to worse and worse things. Everything I post online about myself is true, such as stories etc, and if I post about followers etc it will be a mix of true and exaggeration to get them triggered, assuming that the bits that are true are in turn told to me truthfully. For instance, if I make an exposure caption about a loser, everything in the post is true based on what they tell me. I can’t guarantee what they’ve told me, but also if I don’t believe them I won’t post. Just take it with a grain of salt. However, while I am a loser and enjoy doing humiliating things, a lot of things I am physically unable to do. This is because I have a girlfriend. No, I will not share pictures or talk about her any more, but yes, I am still a virgin. We have a good relationship, but she doesn’t enjoy being dominant or seeing me as a sissy etc, so we have an agreement I can explore fantasies online etc, and what I do at home when alone is my business. Essentially an ignorance is bliss agreement, which is fair enough, if not ideal. But it does mean things more permanent like for instance decorating my room in pink with Barbies etc just won’t happen.

I jerk to a lot, though ironically, “normal” porn doesn’t do anything for me, nor do most captions, though will post a few to encourage other losers to be better gooners. I guess being in mid 30’s and jerking off since a teen daily means I’ve seen so much it’s just boring now. As such, I’ve gotten into quite niche areas of porn, as you don’t see much so it feels fresh, though down side isn’t much of it. My biggest turn on is corruption, being turned into the opposite of what makes me me. There’s the obvious stuff like bimbofication and sissisfication, hypnosis etc, but I love the more mental alterations such as false memories, religious play and political play etc. I love gooning to anime waifus, as I try to convince myself real girls are too good for me, I’ve also started gooning to corporations. Power is sexy, corporations have power this corporations are sexy. I believe people should be treated fair, so gooning to companies paying less than minimum wage and denying rights just feels hot. As I said, been getting into niche stuff. I also enjoy making vices worse such as drinking and smoking, or creating new vices if needed too. Hopefully they’ll be more normal stuff on here for everyone, but if you develop new kinks because of it, then I’ve helped make you a worse loser, which is exactly what you should be. When I do jerk to real girls, my favourite is Riley Reid though Livvy Dunne is a close second, and you’ll see I do enjoy the Chav/White Trash aesthetic. I also have a huge crush and inferiority complex to Asian women, and obsess over e-girls like Alice Delish and Belle Delphine

A lot of what I post is not my content. Again, due to constant deactivation from higher up, I lose track of who posted what. However stuff I post that isn’t mine I fee needs to be shared as it’s so good. So if you see something you made, please don’t think I’m taking credit for it. I just wanted to share it. If I post something you made, DM me and I can take it down, attribute credit or re-blog your version etc. whatever works for you.

I do make original captions etc, but honestly, only when I feel like it, and if feel inspired by any sent pictures etc. if you want a caption send pictures and I’ll see what can do, but just be prepared I might not. I’m more likely to post if you say what sort of caption or any info you want requested in it, and almost always do it if we’ve been chatting and we’ve made each other worse perverts.

I also log into peoples social media, people who know me from my other blogs can attest to how triggering it is. If you request this, we will agree on conditions before hand, and I will do no more or no less than what we agree. Again, others can attest this is the case, but if you’re unsure, there’s nothing I can say that will change your mind. I’ve logged into peoples FB, found their hot friends and posted their pics on here turning them into goon fuel for other perverts, posted embarrassing statuses (you can always say you were hacked :) ) or just watched friends talk to you, and DM you messages on here about what I COULD reply to them posing as you. One person even let me reply to them occasionally on the condition he could send the next message after. Again whatever works for you, anything to help losers get triggered more. Getting triggered more means you need a bigger dopamine hit next time for that rush which means more time dedicated to porn. Porn always wins.

Anyway, think that’s the end of the long post done. Will post a couple of girls now just to end the wall of text.

[silver138]

Perfectly Flawed - Chapter 16

word count - 1.5k

warnings - none

Summary: Lina gets grilled by Penelope.

"That was insane, Penny! Just how many of the cases are like this?!" I ask, taking off my headset and setting it down.

Penny just grins and says, "A few too many, I'm afraid. Thankfully, we got it taken care of before a lot of people got hurt..." Taking off her headset, she stands up and collects her purse, saying, "C'mon, I'll drive you home..."

"Shouldn't we get started on the paperwork?" I ask, an unsure look on my face.

"Nah, we can come in tomorrow to get started on that. The agents will be doing most of that, anyway, since they were the ones going out and tracking the unsubs down," she says, digging her keys out as she hands me my purse.

"Oh, ok," I say, taking my purse and standing up.

As Penny and I walk towards the elevators, she says, "Now that the case has been dealt with..." and then smiles devilishly at me.

My head pulling back a little, I apprehensively ask, "What...what's that look for, Pen?"

"Told you I was gonna ask about it later...so how'd your little...coffee meet-up with Reid go?" she asks, ushering me into the elevator when it dings open.

"Oh, uh, ok, I guess? We didn't really get to hang out a whole lot, maybe, like, 5 minutes before we got the calls..." I say, leaning against the elevator walls. Penelope hums, and I ask, "What? What's that 'Hmm' for?" 

"Oh, nothing..." she says with a sweet smile.

"Pen, I know I'm still new, and I don't know everyone's 'tells'," I start, walking out of the elevator after the doors open again. "But yours might as well be on a billboard. Now tell me, what are your thoughts?" I ask, trying to catch up to her as she walks to the parking garage.

"Just...what do you think you and Boy Genius will do as a 'make-up hang out'?" she says, still smirking.

Flushing, I say, "I-I don't know, I guess I'm gonna have to ask him when I see him next..."

Unlocking her car doors, Penny asks, "Ah, ok, so, tomorrow, then?" I give her a questioning look, and she continues. "They're on the jet coming home now, they'll be back in for tomorrow morning." 

I nod, giving an, "Oh." in understanding. I climb in and secure my seat belt as Penny starts the car, lowering the volume on the radio before it can blast out whatever station she had on this morning.

I lean my head back and sigh as Penny drives, softly saying, "I am exhausted, and I was here in a chair. I can only imagine how tired the rest of them must be..." Penny nods in agreement. I look out the window, watching the city lights flicker on as we pass. We're almost to my apartment when I get a text message.

Probably Val, asking if I'm gonna have another late night at work, better let her know I'm on my way...

As I read the message, I quickly realized it was not my roommate who texted me, but Spencer. 

Hey, Lina. Hope I'm not interrupting you, but I wanted to ask if we're good for that raincheck on hanging out? Maybe we can try Saturday again?

I try to hide the goofy grin that crosses my face, but Penny notices. "Must be an awfully funny text there, chica..." she says with a smirk.

Flushing, I squeak out, "It-it isn't funny, Pen. Just...unexpected."

Nodding slightly, she hums out an, "Uh-huh...so what's the Mighty Professor gotta say?"

I whip my head to face her, and say, "How-how do you know it's Spencer, huh? Why couldn't it be, I dunno, someone sending me a cat picture or something?"

She snorts and laughs, saying, "My tells may be as big as a billboard, but yours might as well be in skywriting..." The light turns green, letting us continue on our way.

My lips bunched to one side, I sighed as I said, "Yeah, ok, it's Spencer. I have got to work on keeping my facial expressions to myself..."

At a stoplight, she turns to me and says, "Well? What did he say? Are you gonna answer him?"

"Oh!" I exclaim, typing out on my phone a reply. "Ye-yeah, I'm gonna answer him, gimmie a moment..."

Yeah, that'd be awesome, Doc. Did you want to try to do the same thing, or something else on Saturday? Are you home already?

After sending the text, I feel the car stop. I look up and see I'm home. I look over to Penny, and she says, "Well, hon, you're home. I'll see you tomorrow. Have fun texting tonight..." 

I snort, letting myself out and waving to her as I head up the steps to my apartment. As I make my way upstairs and unlock my apartment door, I feel my phone buzz again. Heading inside, I call out, "Val? I'm home, the case was resolved." I pull out my phone again as I close the door and take off my shoes and coat.

"Be right there!" she yells back from her room.

As I put down my purse and hung up my coat, I read the text Spencer sent.

No, I'm just getting off the jet, I should be home in a bit. I mean, we can get coffee again, but I was thinking we could maybe check out a bookstore or two? If that's ok, I know you mentioned that as a suggestion before?

Grinning, I answer him as I sit down on the couch.

That sounds amazing, Spence. Yes, absolutely! I've been meaning to get a few more books, too. 

Val pads into the living room, eyebrow raised. "Glad you're home at a more decent hour, there's some leftovers in the fridge." She sits down next to me and asks, "So, who ya texting?"

Clutching the phone to my chest, I look her up and down quickly, then say, "...Spencer."

She looks at me and says, "Mmm-hmm. Isn't he in Jersey right now?"

I smile and slide the phone back into my pocket, getting up to check the fridge. "Yeah, well, he said he just got back in Virginia, so he'll be home pretty soon." I look through the shelves, trying to find something. I pick up something in aluminum foil and turn to look at Val, raising my eyebrows as if to ask 'What even is this?' She just gives me a shrug, and I put it back in, figuring I'll deal with it later.

Val stretches out on the couch as I continue my search. She then asks, "So, uh, what's he asking you?"

"Oh, um, he...wanted to see if we wanted to try to hang out again this Saturday, since the first time we got called into a case," I say, finally deciding on some leftover pasta dish.

She hums in acknowledgment as I dump the food onto a plate and put it in the microwave. After setting the time, I turn to her and ask, "What?"

She shrugs and shakes her head, then says, "Nothing. I'm gonna head to bed early, g'night."

"Night, Vallie," I say, getting my food after the machine beeps. As I sit down on the couch again to eat, my phone chimes again.

Smiling, I check it and read the message.

Oh, really? Any in particular you were looking for?

Thinking for a moment, I quickly type out a reply and send it, a grin on my face as I finish eating dinner.

Kind of, I was hoping maybe you could help me look for some of the ones you suggested? If you don't mind, of course.

I take my empty dishes over to the sink, humming as I wash them. Drying off my hands, my phone goes off once more.

I don't mind at all! I look forward to Saturday.

Heading to my room, I sit on my bed and type out one more message.

It's been a while since I've gone on a good bookstore search, and I don't think I've ever been on one with someone. I can't wait!

  I change into some pjs and start getting ready for bed. As I brush my teeth, I get another text.

You know, I don't think I've ever done that either? Definitely something I eagerly await. Well, I better let you get some rest. I'll see you tomorrow, Lina. Goodnight. :-)

I grin and set my toothbrush down, sending one last text.

You should try to sleep, too. Goodnight, Spence. :-)

I finish brushing my teeth and head back into my room, slipping into bed, and drifting off to sleep.

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Story masterlist

[promenadewithme]

Chapter 1 (The Kiss Of Eros)

a/n: i rewrote this because I hated the first draft Paring: Spencer Reid x Original Character (Rebecca Sanders) Warnings: swearing, reader thinking Spencer hates her, arson, yeah... enjoy!

Prologue Masterlist

My mother once told me that doing the right thing is harder than doing the wrong thing. She was absolutely correct. It’s extremely hard to hold myself back from punching Spencer Reid square on that pretty little face of his right now as he corrects me in front of the whole team, but I am set on doing the right thing. I am the bigger person. I will rise above this. I will not let him get to me.

Inhaling deeply in an attempt to calm myself, I look up at his face again. That stupid face and those stupid round glasses - that are somehow always clean - and that stupid perfectly brushed hair. Mr perfect all the fucking time.

“Excuse me?” I try to utter in my calmest possible voice. It still sounds like I want to rip his head off.

He doesn’t even have the dignity to look at me as he answers.

“You’re excused. I know you don’t have an eidetic memory like me. It’s easy to get these things messed up in a normal brain. However, fact is, serial arsonists are statistically under the age of 35. Not 30.” 

Did he just call me dumb? What the fuck is a ‘normal brain’? I want to tell him that I won all of my spelling bees, that I was reading books by the time I was 4, that I was always top of my class, and that being able to memorize something with ease doesn’t make you the smartest person to walk the earth. But I don’t, mostly because JJ gives me a warning look from behind Reid. 

We’ve had this talk before, countless times. I hate it that he never directs a word at me except when it’s to belittle and correct me, but apparently it's “bad for the team” and “not professional” when I lose my patience. 

I take another deep breath and think happy thoughts. Reading a good book under a fluffy blanket on a rainy day, the sound of that rain against my window, watching videos of owls running with their little naked legs, having wine with the girls on our night off. Another deep breath.

“You’re right.” I acknowledge, though it burns my throat and hurts my very essence to say it.

Reid’s head snaps in my direction and he tilts his head to the side like a confused puppy “Excuse me?”

“You’re excused.” I taunt. “Let’s get back to work, we have a serial arsonist to catch.”

Before he can say another word, I walk out of the room where we set up a few hours ago. This killer is smart, but we are smarter. I grab my phone to call Pen, but am interrupted by a familiar voice that makes my heart skip a beat in annoyance. 

I stop in my tracks, but don’t look back at him. I don’t want to say anything I’ll regret later.

Let’s face it, Spencer is one of the team’s best assets and I’m… I’m good at what I do, I really am. But if they had to let one of us go, I know for sure it wouldn’t be him. So I force myself to breathe once again, because I am in my dream job and I will not let my feelings for this man ruin that for me.

When he notices I won’t be turning to face him, Reid steps in front of me and searches my face. I look away.

“Is there something you need, Doctor?” I inquire, pushing up my glasses. I want to add that if he wanted to stare at my face, he could just take a picture, but that would be too ‘middle school’ of me.

“‘You’re right’? I don’t think I have ever heard you say those words before, definitely not to me. Is everything alright?” I peek at him and his eyebrows are furrowed, eyes still trying to meet mine.

I scoff “Don’t act like you care about my feelings now, just take the win.”

My phone blasts with Taylor Swift’s ‘Me!’ and I don’t have to check the caller ID to know that Pen is calling. 

“Excuse me.” I mutter to Reid before taking the call.

“What’s up?” I greet as I walk out of the police station for some air.

The cool end-of-autumn air caresses my skin and calms my nerves. I’ve always liked the cold, even though I’m not sure LA weather counts as cold, it’s better than heat. Cold weather means snow, hot drinks, fuzzy socks, no sweating, pretty outfits and that christmas is near.

“Tell me I’m the best.” Pen sings and a smile makes its way to my face.

“You, Penelope Garcia, are the absolute best in the whole wide world.” I praise.

“Thank you, baby! But you don’t even know what I found yet.”

I chuckle before asking “What have you got for me?”

“Prepare yourself…” I roll my eyes playfully at her suspenseful pause.

I hear the clattering of her fingers against the computer through the phone and, a second later, a notification comes through.

“I did some digging and found out that our victims were partners at a big law firm and, get this, due to an economical issue, they fired a bunch of people at the same time like 2 years ago. I just sent you the list of all the people who were let go and the address of the two other partners. You’re welcome.”

I run back into the station while I ask her to cross reference our profile with the list of fired employees. 

“Just give me one…” she works her magic for a few more seconds before she calls out his name and address.

I walk into the room we set up in “We got him, Anthony Lewis. He’s living at his mother’s house on 54th Street Apartments.”

Gideon stands up from his chair and Reid looks surprised. Not so smug now, are you Mr smarty pants?

“That’s just a few minutes from here.” an officer says.

“Great,” I nod “I can go check it out if-”

“Guys…” Reid interrupts me and points at the television hung at the corner of the room.

The screen shows live footage of a news reporter in front of a huge house fire. 

No.

No, damn it! 

The flames take up the entirety of the house, windows already shattered, walls turning black with the blaze. There is no way anyone survived, not with how hot and fast the benzene flames burn. 

“Does anyone know where that house is?” I ask, but my voice feels weak. I already know the answer.

“Looks like Vineyard Avenue.” another officer says.

I look down at my phone and check Pen’s message.

2955, Vineyard Avenue CA - Theodore Phillips.

Fuck.

“That is Theodore Phillips’ house. He was one of the partners at the law firm that fired Anthony Lewis 2 years ago. Our last two victims were also partners.” I slump down on the chair “There is only one left.”

I feel like a failure. I’ve been at this for a year already, but every death still takes a toll. Shouldn’t I be used to this by now?

“How long does it take from the fire site to his mother’s house?” Hotchner asks, standing up from his seat and buttoning his blazer.

“20 minutes.” Penelope answers over the phone.

“Morgan, Prentiss.” Hotchner charged “You two go to his mother’s house. Question both her and the suspect. He’ll be caught off guard when he gets home and you’re already there.” 

With a nod, they were off.

“Gideon and I will go take a look at the crime scene. Reid, Sanders, you two will go to the remaining partner’s house. Make them aware of the situation, ask questions and keep their family safe.”

I want to protest, but they are out the door before I can say anything. My shoulders slump and my mouth snaps closed.

Shit.

I glance over at Dr know-it-all and he’s already crossing his worn brown leather messenger bag over his chest.

It’s okay, I can do this. I’m a professional. I’m not a kid anymore, I don’t need everyone to like me. 

Yes, you do. A little voice whispers in my mind.

I sigh. Of course I do. I’ve never felt like I truly fit in anywhere, but here at the BAU… It really felt like a fresh start, like maybe I had finally found my tribe. Mostly, I did. Pen and I immediately clicked, JJ and Emily warmed up to me quite quickly, Hotch and Gideon were always warm and receptive in a father-figure way, Derek gets along with everyone, and then there’s Reid. Reid who shut down when he first saw me. I remember it clear as day, even now.

“And this is Doctor Spencer Reid.” Hotchner introduces.

I know who he is. I have watched every grainy video of his lectures, read every article, this man is one of the reasons I was so set on joining the BAU. 

“Hi.” I offer my hand “I’m Rebecca Sanders.”

He just stares at me, grip tightening around the files he has pressed to his chest.

I sneak a confused look at Hotcher and he clears his throat. Spencer looks away, at anything but me.

“Sanders is the newest addition to our team.” my new boss says.

Nothing. I let my hand fall to my side. 

I look at Hotchner and he presses his lips together before adding “She worked at CASMIRC for a while, but asked to be transferred here. She will make a fine addition, don’t you think?”

“Why?” he finally speaks, looking at the floor even now.

“E-excuse me?” I stutter.

“Why did you transfer here?” he specifies, still not catching my eye.

Because I still have nightmares with the children’s faces, because my last case destroyed me, because working with adults is easier, because of you.

“I’ve always wanted to be a part of the BAU, it’s my dream job.” I settle with the answer I gave in my interviews.

“I think you’ll find it’s hardly a dream.” he says before leaving the room.

“Did I do or say something wrong?” I ask, wide-eyed.

Hotchner shakes his head, looking over at the door Doctor Reid left open “I don’t know.”

Reid clearing his throat brings me back to the present. 

“Looks like it’s just you and me.” I force a smile.

He looks at his shoes and nods. Dear Lord, this is going to be harder than I thought. 

“I’m going to need you to speak to me if we’re going to be pairing up.” I try. 

“There is nothing to say.” he states, pushing up his glasses. Still not looking at me.

I give JJ an exasperated look and she just shrugs. 

“Look, I get that you hate me or something, even though I don’t know what I ever did to you, but can we just act like two civilized human beings for once?”

His brows furrow “I don’t hate you.”

I scoff “Well, it sure seems like it. You know what? It doesn’t matter. Let’s just go.”

“Behave.” JJ calls out.

“Yes, ma’am.” I walk out the door and don’t wait for Reid. 

I gaze down at my phone and see that Pen is still on the line. Shit. I bring it to my ear again and wince. “Sorry, Pen.”

“Yikes, that was tense.” I can hear her grimace from here.

“Yeah, he hates me.”

“Now, don’t say that.” she chides lovingly “You just have to have a little more patience with Spencer. He’s a really nice guy if you get to know him.”

I scoff “Yeah, right.”

I push the door to the station open and let it fall closed behind me. 

“Sweetie, is this still about how he didn’t shake your hand when he met you? Because you should know by now that it’s not personal.”

Speaking of the devil, he finally catches up to me and stands looking at my face expectantly.

“Amongst other things.” I reply sheepishly. 

I know it wasn’t personal, but I was so let down when it happened. Reid was the person on the team I was most looking forward to meeting. I read all his articles and learned all about his previous cases. He was a genius and… some could say that he was a sort of professional crush of mine. 

That is, if blushing and kicking your feet while watching a video of one of his lectures is considered professional. Ok, I’ll admit, I really liked the sexy round glasses and the sweater vests and the hair. And, oh God, the veiny hands. Ok, maybe it was a bit more than a professional crush. But I just thought he was so smart and so pretty, he looked so kind too.

Never meet your heroes, right?

“Listen, I have to go, but thank you for your help.” I look at Reid from the corner of my eye and he’s still staring at me.

He’s always staring when I’m not looking, but never looks at me when I speak to him. Why won’t he knock it off?

“At your service, my liege.”

We say our goodbyes and I put my phone in the pocket of my gray plaid skirt. Straightening out my maroon sweater and trading my normal glasses for my oversized sunnies, I don’t spare Reid a second glance before following the street signs to where I want to go.

“Where are we going?” he calls out behind me, running awkwardly to reach me.

I bite my lip to hold in a laugh. Okay, maybe this won’t be so bad. I can get him to talk, maybe he’ll even not hate me by the end of the day. 

“I’m taking the metro, you can follow if you like.” I call back before looking over my shoulder at him with a smirk “Have you ever taken the metro, kid?”

“Don’t call me kid,” he grumbles, catching up to me “I’m two years older than you.”

“One year and 11 months.” I counter.

“Technically, 673 days.”

“But who’s counting?” I say, turning the corner “What matters is that I’m more experienced than you.”

He blushes profusely, before defending himself “I’m experienced.”

“In the tube?” I ask “I don’t really see you as a public transportation kind of guy.”

He doesn’t answer. Of course he doesn’t. 

He just looks at his shoes and keeps on walking. 

So much for communication. 

Tag list: @dreamsarebig (tell me if you want to be added)

Likes, reblogs and feedback are always appreciated!

[sinosauropteryx--prima]

Sailed Animals

(Sailed animals and their relationships. Art by: Platyhystrix - Gabriel Uguento, Dimetrodon - Rob Soto, Edaphosaurus - Sean Closson, Arizonasaurus, Lotosaurus - Nobo Tamura, Spinosaurus - Liam Elward, Ouranosaurus - Scott Reid, Amargasaurus - Sergey Krasovskiy)

Okay, what I actually wanted to do, was write something about the Permian, and I will be doing that at some point - however, I got side tracked by Dimetrodon and Edaphosaurus and their sails, so here we are.

You see, I‘m a big fan of convergent evolution and especially when the evolution converges to some very specific and bizarre feature that we don‘t fully understand, like big sails on the backs of animals.

As you can see in the picture above, sails have evolved independently from each other many times. Some of the earliest instances come from the late Carboniferous and early Permian and include the amphibian Platyhystrix (I had no idea that there were sailed amphibians, that‘s so cool) and of course the famous carnivorous Dimetrodon and its plant-eating cousin Edaphosaurus. Edaphosaurus and Dimetrodon are often mistaken for reptiles or even dinosaurs. They were neither, but instead they were synapsids, the same group that includes us mammals.

The next time we see sails is during the Triassic in the crocodile-related Pseudosuchians, like the carnivorous Arizonasaurus or herbivorous Lotosaurus. I‘m not entirely sure, if the sails evolved only once in this group, or multiple times, because it is hard to find information on that (I really wish those croc-cousins would get the same attention as dinosaurs).

But speaking of dinosaurs: They of course also had sails. Most famous for it is Spinosaurus and its relatives, but other groups of dinosaurs also evolved sails. Those included the sauropods (the long-necked giant herbivores) like Amargasaurus (well, maybe?), as well as the Ornithopods (duck-billed dinosaurs and their relatives) like Ouranosaurus.

Now you might think that we have a clear lack of sailed animals at the moment, but don’t worry: there are still animals with sails! And somehow I was completely unaware of this until I started looking into it. We still have the Crested Chameleon, some species of basilisks, sail-fin dragons and the sailfish (although from what I understand its sail works differently then the ones of the lizards).

The sails of all these animals are made up from long extensions of the vertebrae. It is assumed that those bones were covered in tissue, spanning open a sail. We can be pretty certain of this, because there have been fossils found, where the bones had broken and then healed back together while the animal was still alive, clearly showing that they must have been held in place by something (Rega et al, 2012).

(skeletons of Dimetrodon, Ouranosaurus and a bison, Bailey 1997)

For different animals these bones can look very different though: For the synapsids like Dimetrodon they were very thin, while they were thicker and flatter in dinosaurs. In that way, they looked a lot more similar to the vertebrae of modern humped animals like bisons. This is why in the 90s there were some suggestions that those dinosaurs didn‘t have sails, but instead had big humps on their back for energy storage or maybe for insulation to keep a constant body temperature (Bailey, 1997).

The idea never really caught on, but we did this amazing illustration of a humped spinosaurus out of it. I know, we‘ve probably all seen our fair share of Spinosaurus reconstructions, but I have never seen a chonky one, and I don‘t know how to feel about it.

(humped Spinosaurus, Bailey 1997)

The big questions that remains is of course: why sails? what were they good for? The most common answer you get is either display or thermoregulation.

The sails being a display structure is a very intuitive answer. If you‘re carrying around a giant billboard-like structure on your back, it would only make sense to advertise something on it. You could use it to impress the opposite sex with fancy colors, intimidate rivals because it makes yourself look a lot bigger or signal to other animals that you are the same/a different species.

One thing that I always think about, but never see mentioned, especially in the case of the herbivorous sailed animals, is mimicry. Edaphosaurus and Dimetrodon lived at the same time, so could it not be, that Edaphosaurus had sails to make themselves look like big scary Dimetrodons to keep other predators away? Similar to how we have many harmless insects pretending to be wasps today? It would of course not explain why Dimetrodon had a sail, but it could give the herbivores a reason to have one.

The other big reason for sails is thermoregulation. Especially cold-blooded animals could have used their sails like solar panels, pointing them towards the sun and collecting heat (Bramwell & Fellgett, 1973). Alternatively, the sails could have been used to cool the animal down by positioning them in the direction of winds (Bennett, 1996).

The only problem with thermoregulation is, that its viability depends on whether the animals in question were endothermic or ectothermic (warm- or cold-blooded). And for pretty much all the sailed animals this is a heated (pun intended) debate.

(Airflow around an Edaphosaurus, Benett 1996; Can I just point out that this graph, as well as the chonky Spinosaurus were part of actual peer reviewed publications? I do chemistry irl and I‘m a bit jealous that in the papers I write I never get the chance to draw dorky looking synapsids)

Now that we‘ve discussed the reasonable well accepted explanations for sails, let‘s get into some more outlandish ones. Maybe Dimetrodon used its sail to „camouflage among reeds while [it] waited for prey, or as an actual boat-like sail to catch the wind while the animal was in the water“, as stated in multiple papers. I tried to hunt down the original source for this, but the idea comes from a Book by Romer and Price from 1940, and unfortunately I don‘t have access to it. Honestly, I would love to know if they had any actual reasoning for it or if they were just throwing ideas around, because the image of a Dimetrodon floating around on the surface of the water and getting pushed around by winds sounds ridiculous. Similarly, having a giant structure on your back, just so you can camouflage it to look like the background seems like a lot of unnecessary effort. Surely you could just not have the giant structure and it would have the same effect.

For Spinosaurus, there is the idea that they might have used their sails to shade the water while hunting, like a heron bird. I had never heard that before, but I find it a bit strange. Wouldn‘t that mean, that they had to catch fish at a weird angle towards their side? Seems uncomfortable. Of course there are also many ideas that the sails might have helped with swimming or whatever, but I don‘t want to get into the Is-Spinosaurus-aquatic-debate. I‘m pretty sure most of the papers about it would be outdated anyways and the ones that aren‘t will be in approximately 20 minutes.

For the sauropods, the “long-necks“, like Amargasaurus, even less is clear: It is even debated whether the spines on their necks formed sails or horns. If they had horns those might have been a defense structure or just for display. If they had sails - well, then it‘s the same questions as for all the other weirdos.

So yeah, overall, sailed animals were pretty weird, and there is still a lot to learn.

Also “sail“ doesn‘t sound like a word anymore.

[masterwords]

too late to turn back now

Summary: Reid is angry about being lied to about Emily and at Rossi's dinner party, it finally reaches the boiling point. Hotch was never his intended target but it's too late now and it kind of feels good to let it all out.

Pairing: Hotch/Morgan (yeah baby)

Words: 3k

Warnings: swearing, alcohol drinking, mentions of canon death (emily's), implication of hotch's past abuse

Notes: We got called over the mountain to play a weekend of tournament baseball so I totally spaced off @criminalmindsweek. I wrote this quickly for Day One using the prompt “I can’t believe I ever trusted you!”. It is not my best quality, you can probably tell I wrote it all within about an hour beginning to end. But I also kind of had fun because I like to make Hotch & Morgan kiss. (I also used a kiss prompt sent in as a request for an added bonus! 7 - ...to get them to shut up) I also really like to play with canon mean/angry Reid. He doesn't get enough attention. I'll do better the rest of the week! Everyone should go write or make pictures or edits or something. The editing on this is shoddy at best.

read on AO3: too late to turn back now

**

There is a quiet electricity in the air, some kind of strange tension that has been building all night. The moment Spencer showed up, everyone felt it. He brought it inside and it was coming off of him like a briny wind on a riptide. JJ went right at it, smiling, offering a glass of wine. She thought for sure it was aimed at her and if she could diffuse it and get her friend back they’d all be better off.

He took that glass from her and smiled back, clinked glasses with her, but that clean ozone scent never dissipated. If anything it only got stronger.

“It’s good to see you,” she says quietly, hopefully. He nods. He smiles.

“You too.”

Over their quiet conversation, Rossi continues talking, showing people how to craft his carbonara and she’s acutely aware that the feeling of impending doom never goes away. It makes the hair on her arms stand up. Glancing around, she wonders if anyone else notices. If they can feel it too. A room full of profilers and they all seem caught up in a moment that’s hanging by a thread.

It takes a while. She’s lulled into a sense of calm as Reid makes his way around the room, person to person. As he laughs, as he drinks his wine a little too fast, a little too eagerly. He rarely drinks, but he seems to be enjoying himself and when Emily offers him a refill he gladly accepts. JJ watches him carefully from where she stands talking to Penelope.

Everything seems to be returning to some kind of normal, the way they were before Doyle. People are laughing and joking, the wine is going down a little too easy and everyone seems relaxed. Happy. She finds her way to Emily and visits with her, loses sight of Reid for the first time since he came inside. She thinks that’s okay. He doesn’t need a babysitter...it’s her that he’s mad at, after all, and they’ve been good. He hugged her. Maybe he's on the track to forgiving her, maybe she's going to get her friend back.

The sound of his voice, shrill and high, startles them all. JJ leads the charge into the foyer to find Reid with Hotch cornered in an oddly one-sided stand off. They all hang back anxiously while they try to get a read on the situation. When Reid stands at his full height he’s eye to eye with Hotch, and when he squares his shoulders he no longer looks meager. He looks a little menacing. Coiled and explosive. Hotch doesn't look worried, but he does look serious. Cautious. He's acutely aware of the volatility in the situation.

“I can’t believe I ever trusted you!” Reid yells at Hotch who is standing like a deer caught in headlights. He blinks but keeps his mouth shut while Reid prepares his next round of artillery fire. That ozone smell is back and the charge only needed one little spark. Hotch must have provided it though JJ can’t imagine how. He goes out of his way to be diplomatic, to keep quiet, to be calm. What could he have said or done?

Maybe he didn’t need to do anything. Maybe it was only by virtue of his being there, the right place at the right time, that Reid’s electrical storm was gathered and found fuel. Reid gulps down what was left of his wine and sets the glass on the table beside him.

“I’m sorry, Spencer.” Hotch uses his first name in an effort to diffuse the situation, but it only seems to make it worse. Like Hotch shouldn’t dare to use his first name, like it’s an offense. He realizes it instantly and closes his mouth.

“No. No you’re not! You lied to all of us and then you...you disappeared! You just left us! We needed you and you went away.”

People flood the room, forming a semi-circle around the pair of men staring at each other. JJ expects Hotch to fight back, to say something smart, something biting that will shut this down and return the night to its natural state. To defend himself, his actions, the decisions they made. To tell Reid that it was the only way. But he doesn’t. He doesn’t say a damn thing and she finds herself angry at him for a time, angry that he won’t just tell Reid to shut up, that he’s out of line, anything.

“Spence,” JJ starts when it’s clear to her that Hotch isn’t going to do anything, but Hotch raises his hand dismissively, holding them all back and quiet. Reid needs to let this out, they’re not working, they’re not at the office. If he needs to blow off this steam Hotch can take it. He knows how to take this.

Not like it’s the first person he ever loved to shout in his face. To call him worthless, to call into question his intentions. He’s acutely aware of the way Reid’s fists pump at his sides. Like he’s forcing energy through them, down his arms into his fingers, back up again. A closed circuit. One wrong move and one of those fists is going to connect with his jaw, he’s certain of that much. And if it does, there’ll be enough force there to knock him out. He can take that too, but he’d rather not so he keeps a careful eye.

“You left us!” Reid seems stuck on that part, and Hotch thinks he has his very narrow opening to do a little damage control. He never wanted to go. He would have given anything to stay with them, not to be in Pakistan, not to leave them or his son. He’s always protected them, shielded them and he failed them this time. Reid’s anger is justified in his mind, and that’s why he doesn’t fight back.

“The decision to send me overseas was made above my pay grade. They gave me a date and a time for a flight and an order to keep it confidential. I didn’t want to leave, Reid. I had to leave Jack, my family, all of you. I wasn't given a choice.”

“That's not true. You had a choice. But you’re good at keeping secrets so what's one more? Did you even tell Jack before you walked out that morning? What else are you not telling us? Huh? What else are you lying about?”

“Reid,” Derek warns, stepping in finally. Derek���s voice is firm when he speaks, it’s calm but tinged with anger. He’s content to let Hotch fight his own battles, but Reid is punching below the belt and Hotch lacks the instinct for self-preservation. (Lacks or more to the point, ignores. Simply doesn’t even try.) He’ll just keep letting Reid knock him around until he tires himself out and he’ll probably think he’s doing the right thing.

“He’s a liar, Morgan! That’s all he does is lie! He’s never been on our side, he only cares about himself. Gideon would never have done this, he would have - ”

“Gideon left us, Spence,” JJ says quietly. “He left us and he didn’t come back. Hotch came back.” Reid just shakes his head furiously, unwilling to budge. He’s in the middle of a storm and Hotch waves JJ off. She almost doesn’t listen but Hotch looks so serious she can’t open her mouth again. This is more about him leaving the team than it is about Emily, it’s about Reid feeling abandoned.

“That isn’t the same. He would have...he never lied to us…” He’s grasping at straws now and he can feel his own resolve weakening. He’s hurt more than angry but he’s stuck, he doesn’t know what to do with all of this now. The whole party is focused on him. Derek interrupts him and makes it easier by cutting him off before he says something he’ll really regret, as if he hasn’t already dug a deep enough hole.

“Kid, that’s enough. Don’t make me say it again.” He wants to shout now. He’s nearly there...how can Reid stand there, knowing that Gideon just abandoned the team, and think for one second that it’s the same as what Hotch did? Hotch didn’t walk out on them. Hotch is standing here right now accepting full responsibility for hurting everyone and Gideon left a letter and never saw any of them again. Not a word.

Reid is fuming and Hotch is deadly silent. His arms are at his side, fingers flicking over his thumbnail. It’s the only movement he’s making. His body language isn’t defensive at all and that alone infuriates Derek. JJ can feel the BAU crumbling beneath her feet, everything they’ve worked for and tried to keep in tact since Emily died is falling apart. Rossi is searching his arsenal of tactics for diffusing a situation as quickly as he can but nothing seems appropriate for this moment. There’s not a joke he’d feel good using, not a distraction, nothing he can think to save his friends from the storm. It just needs to play out and then they can do some damage control.

“Guys,” Emily says finally. They’re killing her buzz. She smiles while she talks, thinking if she makes light of it for a second maybe someone will follow her and realize this is all silly. “If this is all about me…”

Reid turns to her with angry tears in his eyes, fists balled at his sides now to stop his hands from flapping around like desperately caged birds. He's found a new target for his rage. “If this is about you? EVERYTHING is about you. He lied to our faces…”

She isn't going to be quiet like Hotch, though. She can give as good as she gets. “So what? I certainly wouldn’t be standing here if he hadn’t and I think deep down you know that. Nobody asked me if that was how I wanted it to play out. I woke up from surgery a new person, shipped off to live a new life all alone. You don’t think that fucked me up Reid? Because it did. So you want to go back in time and take the lie back? Would that make you feel better? Fuck it, let’s go.”

“The laws of physics don’t…”

“Reid, stop. Please. Jesus. Leave him alone. That man carries more guilt in his breast pocket than an army of Catholics...he’s already done the work for you, he doesn’t need your help. Why are you so busy yelling at him when I’m standing right here with my arms open?" She waits now, watching the way his face falls, the way his shoulders slouch a little and she no longer sees the desperate anger clawing its way out of him. She's made progress. "I’m starving and there is perfectly good pasta in that room getting cold...that is a crime against humanity. Come eat with me, Reid, please. Can we just do that?”

A cold silence falls over the room, and Emily is sure she’s failed to get through to anyone. Reid is looking at her and contemplating what she said but he hasn't moved. She still feels like a ghost. This life might never belong to her again but dammit she’s going to try. All she thought about was coming back to these people and now they’re all here and they’re all different, too. They’re angry and they’re sad and they’re fighting. They never fight.

Penelope stares, feeling like she’s going to jump right out of her skin. Everyone is upset. Everyone is raw and feeling their way around in the dark, and maybe Reid just said out loud what they were all thinking but now that it’s out there it feels ugly and wrong and she just wants to hug Reid and hug Hotch and tell them that it’s all fine, everything is good, Emily is alive and their family is back together.

“I should go,” Hotch says quietly, finding his voice, finding Derek’s eyes. “It’s late. I’m sure Jessica would like to get home.”

He doesn’t say goodbye to anyone, just makes for the front door to grab his jacket. There are voices behind him, people pleading in unison for him not to go, for him to stay. If he leaves, the team feels fractured in a way that might be forever. Penelope is louder than the rest, begging with tears in her eyes for Reid to make it okay, begging Hotch to stay and talk it out.

He doesn’t have anything to say, though. They all know his reasons, they’ve all heard his apologies – if they don’t want those things, he can’t force them. He knows he made the right choice, the only choice, but he also knows that he’s not owed forgiveness. He knows that the choice hurt a lot of people. It’s lonely at the top, that’s what everyone always says and he knows it’s true. He has to exist outside of the team as much as he does inside of it, and right now Reid needs the peace and the security of having his team, his peers surround him...but not Hotch. In this he is an outsider.

Refusing to lay down and accept defeat, Derek follows him and grabs him by the hand. “You don’t have to go,” he says, gripping a little too tight. He can feel the tiny bones in Hotch’s hand shifting, sinew like rubber bands tight beneath his fingertips. Hotch has lost so much weight, he’s a shadow of the man who left months ago. They’re not dealing with that yet either. They’re not really dealing with anything, just slapping band-aids on and moving forward.

“I think I do. It’s okay.” He says that last part in a breathy half-voice and knows that he has to leave now before his shields are down completely. He knows this will blow over, given some time. Reid will come around. And if he doesn’t, they’ll figure it out when things aren’t so heated. He can’t see any good coming from him staying. It’ll only make things worse.

Derek leans in and kisses Hotch because he is so done talking. He kisses him because he wants him to shut up, because he wants to distract him from how incredibly frustrating he’s being. How he won’t stand up for himself and is making excuses for his exit. Everyone is still watching, everyone sees the way Derek leans in and presses Hotch against the wall, braces himself with his free hand. It’s passionate and a little desperate.

JJ can feel a new electricity in the room. The mood shifts. It's a different kind of intensity.

Hotch’s first thought is simply to wonder if this is another secret or lie that Reid will be angry at him over. This wasn’t exactly the way he imagined the team finding out about the two of them...but if he was being honest, maybe Reid wasn’t totally wrong because he did like this particular secret. He’s allowed to like keeping things to himself. Keeping something private and safe. Not exactly sneaking around but there was some excitement in it.

But there is excitement in this too, because Derek’s lips taste like comfort (and deep red wine). His lashes flutter against his cheek and he melts into the wall, momentarily forgetting where he is and how many people are watching. Derek is acutely aware of all of it. He can sense their eyes on his skin, but he can taste Hotch’s breath and he can feel his heartbeat and that’s more important.

“If I can forgive you, I think everyone else can too dammit. You kissed me with that lyin’ ass mouth for months.”

Hotch tries to smile but can’t even seem to force it. He’s got tears in his eyes and what shows up on his face is about the saddest excuse for a smile Derek thinks he’s ever seen. It’s pathetic, even for Hotch. “Have you forgiven me?”

Derek sighs and brushes the tears from Hotch’s cheek with his thumb. “I’m workin’ on it.”

Hotch nods and purses his lips. The answer isn’t surprising. None of this was ever going to be easy, and they’ve got a long road ahead of them. All of them. This little gathering may have been a little premature, given the raw emotion still on the surface. “Apologize to Dave for me, please? For causing a scene. And tell everyone to take tomorrow off. I’ll see you later Derek.”

“Hotch, wait…”

The door clicks closed and all the air in the room seems to vanish. Derek is left standing alone, staring at the door wondering what the hell to do next – whether to turn around and face the looks of confusion and field the inevitable questions or go after the man he loves. Emily makes the decision for him, like she usually does.

“If you don’t follow him out that door, you’re an even bigger idiot than I ever imagined Derek Morgan. Don’t you dare ruin something perfectly good over me. You people are all nuts.”

He turns and looks at her desperately, eyebrows raised, tears in his own damn eyes now. Everyone is watching and waiting to see what he’s going to do. How this night could get worse. He thinks he could hear a pin drop in another room. This night has gone so far off the rails he can’t even see his way back. She’s right. He needs to go, there isn’t anything for him here. He might not be all the way to forgiving Hotch but he does love him and that’s enough right now. Some things just take time.

“Go you moron. I’ll smooth things over here with my effervescent wit and charm.” She smiles big, and he’s almost afraid of her but he’s also certain she’s right. She’ll fix it. She’ll make it okay.

“Thanks Em.”

[soul-wanderer]

Genuine question, I wasn't into fandom when I watched CM, and my mind is always blank with TV shows, so I rarely pin over one ship or another. I never understood why people say CM is queerbaiting. Can you please explain why? Because I'm genuinely curious, and if I'm being honest, now looking back, Emily is so shippable with anyone on the team. Maybe it's because of my view of 'not breaking a marriage, especially with kids in it', that make me never understood Jemily. I'm big on the Temily team, though.

Hey there,

I will try to keep the reply somewhat linear, but it's been so long that it's honestly going to be hard to remember everything that went down since, well, basically 2005 or so.

First off, I will acknowledge that queerbaiting looked a little/lot different on Criminal Minds than it did on other shows.

Behind the scenes, it's been both rumoured and openly talked about that the writers did consider making Emily's character queer, and I have read rumours that the same plans had been made for Reid's character as well. But, as is/was, none of that ever happened.

It's all a bit hazy now, but I vaguely remember the random queerbaiting tweets that originally showed up when the main show was still running, but I eventually tuned out of what they were posting on social media, because that kind of stuff quickly gets tiring. But I am certain they did make comments/remarks on certain pairings, only to never follow up on those, either.

But most importantly: The way some of these relationships/friendships were written, mainly the one between JJ and Emily and, to some extent, also the one between Morgan and Reid.

At some point, it felt like they weren't even trying to hide the fact that JJ was closer to Emily than she was with her own husband. If they had "just" been friends, maybe they wouldn't have stayed in such close personal contact while Emily was gone. This went way beyond JJ's duty to be there for Emily in regard to her safety. The same applies to Emily being the one to rescue JJ/the one JJ calls for help when shit goes down.

To help with the bigger picture here: In earlier seasons we do see JJ, Emily AND Garcia as a friendship group. And they maintain that, somewhat, throughout the seasons, but their friendship with Garcia is different, and it is quite obviously what we would consider a friendship.

And I will say the same about JJ and Reid. These two have known each other much longer, so it would be easy to assume that they are much closer friends. I will ignore the fact that after like fifteen years they decided that JJ randomly has feelings for Reid, because it's bullshit (in canon, anyway). They are friends, they are coded as friends and always have been. And they very clearly show what friendships are written like on the show - and it's not what JJ's and Emily's relationship looks like, at all.

They know each other in ways that are so very different from the other dynamics within the team, and most definitely different from what JJ and Will have. At some points it just became almost grotesque how close JJ and Emily were, without them being a couple, especially since Emily has a fantastic track record when it comes to tried and failed romantic relationships.

But I think most importantly, it's in the way they bent over backwards to avoid any and all queer relationships on the show. We have Hotch and Haley, Reid and Maeve and Maxine, Morgan and Savannah, Garcia and her two nerdy boyfriends, Blake and her husband, Emily and that British dude and I think there was someone else as well? And of course JJ and Will. The argument that this show isn't about their personal relationships simply does not work, when time and time again there has been such a heavy emphasis on their private lives, and much more importantly, on their very much heterosexual relationships. It's almost laughable now, how absolutely fucking straight everyone on that show was. I mean, what are the odds? What are the odds?

And another honourable mention: I remember at some point the pressure got so big, that apparently the writers/producers couldn't entirely ignore it any longer, and all we got was that iconic scene of JJ and Emily at a pride? event, like full blown rainbow flags and that big fucking ass speech about tolerance/acceptance? I don't care to remember, because nothing ever came of it, other than some laughable virtue signalling.

And let's just not mention how being gay only ever existed in relation to crimes being committed, so there is that.

So yeah, maybe it wasn't outright queerbaiting in the traditional way, but in many ways it still was, and at the very least they made it VERY clear that non-heterosexual relationships would not happen as long as they were in charge

[lastwave]

hiiii ok<3 my deeply silly concept. important to know the better half of this has been me coming to this when im bored and just going with whatever idea makes me laugh. the plot is absurd and makes no sense and i love it this way. Apologies for. how much this is

so in this world ive made there is this sport called extreme hockey which is just hockey but off the rails. recently, the biggest game ever just happened (the stanley cup squared) where the coach of the philadelphia fighter jets (philidelphia flyers' insane sister team) Ulysses Dodger just won with the trojan horse maneuver, credited to him and the team manager, Ana

the team wants to go home. but also, they're hungry as hell. everyone but Ulysses gets sketchy airport food and gets food poisoning so that delays their trip by. a good bit.

on the way back to the hotel room, Ulysses and the two way forward, Ed Kuznetsov, are trying to figure out the plane ticket situation when they get in an argument with this guy in the elevator. which then breaks. so now theyre stuck in the elevator with this pissed off guy, which comes to a head with Ulysses jabbing the guys eye out, Ed managing to pry open the doors between floors, Ulysses giving the guy his real name and then the two running back to the room after climbing out.

Ulysses calls Ana about it, asking how much trouble he's in. Ana blocks him.

the team gets new tickets but theres a new issue: their flight to philly keeps getting delayed by just horrible awful weather. Ulysses and Ed both were in the airforce briefly so they know how to fly a plane (ed quit, ulysses was discharged for an ant farm related incident). So Ulysses gets it in his head "i could fly in this weather." and they go to the airport manager, [Aeolus stand in to be named], who lends them a plane. all they need to do is not draw attention to the fact they aren't supposed to be the pilots and it should go fine.

except Ed fucks it up on the radio RIGHT before they get to Philly so they have to take a fucking uturn.

now they end up at JFK airport again, where we run into the guy from the airport, who we find out works for air traffic control.

Unsure of the transitional event but they end up at Laguardia airport. where they meet Circe, who runs a petplay club. you can see where that leads. they spend almost a week with her

Circe tells them they have to go where no NHL team makes it out alive: Atlanta, Hartsfield-Jackson airport. on the underground level is a disgraced pilot-turned-psychic who will them how to proceed.

they go to ATL, get their emotional shit rocked, some hijinks occur where Ed steals some handcuffs, and get sent to Harry-Reid in Vegas

here, 5 members of the team get wrapped up into an MLM. we lose them in Vegas. then, 6 more members are bought out of the team during the NHL draft. leaving just Ulysses and Ed (because theyre not gonna just send Ulysses's picks over to where he is, that's absurd)

then theres just a fun "flying in inclement weather" sequence until they land in Indiana, out of gas and unable to get more without being caught. Here, they're approached by a youtuber, Dr Monster, who gives them a deal: participate in his game. which is this, go an unspecified amount of time with food in front of them without eating. if they make it the whole way, they get a ride to philly. if not, they get turned in to the ATC.

Ed caves after the first day and handcuffs Ulysses to his chair, goes for the food. It's implied they both pass out after this.

Ulysses wakes up in the middle of nowhere, just to see his face on TV as a wanted man. They don't know his whereabouts. He doesn't look the picture anymore.

He gets a shit job at a diner in Indiana and works there for a long while, under a fake name.

Meanwhile, through [Aeolus stand in], Ana's family has tracked down Ulysses. Turns out, Ana's uncle is in charge of the ATC. Ana manages to convince her uncle to pardon Ulysses because of the unique circumstances, and she sends her cousin Henry to go pick up Ulysses in a *car* and drive him back to Philly.

Ulysses reunites with his family and Ed :]

does anyone wanna hear my dumbass story. that is just an odyssey rip off but what if its planes. aand hockey. i started toying with the idea as a joke but the characters started having actual characterizations outside the odyssey rip off thing and now im attached

[radiant-reid]

For the little cute blurb idea:

after girls night (still a bit drunk) you decide you should all get tattoos together and your drunk self is determined to get one about your long time boyfriend doctor reid

"Oh my gosh! We need to do that right now." Penelope decides loudly, almost loud enough to gain attention from other patrons in the bar.

You switched to water a little while ago but she's still sipping on something disgustingly sweet and when the discussion of Emily's hidden tattoo comes up, her mind is on one track.

"Pen..." JJ attempts to warn her, trying to use the logical side of her brain. "No, actually let's do it."

"I'm in." You agree, evidently more drunk than you first thought. When they all give you a confused look, you're even more determined to do it. "What? I can be spontaneous, too."

Emily chuckles at that, dowing the rest of her drink. "Let's do it."

So you're at the tattoo parlor a few blocks down, the neon lights drawing you all in like a moth to an open flame. Emily goes first, mostly to prove to all of you that it won't hurt, despite the fact her new tattoo's going on her collarbone.

Then it'a Penelope's turn, who decides, naturally, on a little unicorn and takes the pain like a champ. "I was shot once." She reminds all of you as you look over her. The tattoo artist's face floods with concern, but she chooses not to ask.

"What are you going for?" JJ asks as you try to find some inspiration from the book on the counter.

You don't want to chicken out, but there's nothing that's jumping out at you, not until you flick the page and find the perfect design. "This." You point it out to her. "You?"

"Henry's name." She tells you, a little bit predictable but still very cute. She goes next, flinching at the ink going into her skin. Compared to the rest of you, she had a lot less to drink at the bar and is nursing a bottle of water.

Then it's your turn in the hot seat and you tell the tattoo artist and your friends what you want.

"Aw, you two are so sweet." Penelope coos, smiling drunkenly.

Emily has a different reaction. "So disgusting is the better adjective."

You ignore it, looking at your phone with your right hand when Spencer texts you, and the screen lights up with a picture of the two of you.

It doesn't hurt compared to being shot or assaulted by an unsub, just a numbing pain. It's not too big so she finishes it quickly before doing the proper aftercare on it and giving all four of you further instructions.

Spencer's there to greet you at the door when you get back, although he pretends he was just walking past. While you move to the bedroom, take off your make up, and undress, you replay the answer to Spencer.

"What happened to your finger?" He wonders when he catches sight of the saran-wrapped ring finger of your left name.

"Uhhh." You trail off, unsure of what to tell her. "Tonight was a bit wilder than I may have previously alluded to." You admit, looking at the design on your finger without letting him see it. He nods, prompting you to continue. "It's a tattoo."

He chuckles a little. "So, can I see the permanent mark that's now on my girlfriend's body?"

"Of course." You agree, excited to show it to him.

You place your palm up so he can see the underside of your ring finger. And the little outline of a heart that was now against your skin with the letter S in the middle.

He traces over it on top of the plastic, and you can see the blush on his cheeks. "This would be a really bad time to break up with you then, I guess." He jokes.

You roll your eyes at him. "Not funny. We're going tomorrow so you can get one, too. Then you'll be stuck with me forever."

"That's the plan." He admits, bringing your finger up to his lips to place a kiss over the new tattoo.

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Cradle To Grave: Part Two

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.2k

Summary: Your experience in prison isn't what you thought it would be. You're feeling everything and you don't know if you'll be okay when you finally come out of it. Meanwhile, the team notices a change in Spencer as he tries his best not to miss you too much.

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill

Season Five Masterlist

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there are any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them.

x

Emily has noticed a shift in Spencer ever since you got arrested, and it hasn't been a good one. He's more distant, has hollow eyes from the lack of sleep, and he's not as interested in the job. He does what he can to help the team but he'd do better if you were by his side again. She feels so bad for him knowing he's crazy in love with you. It's not fair how you're sitting in a jail cell for something you didn't do while the rest of them do their jobs without helping you. She hates it.

Spencer reaches into his pocket and takes out his wallet where there is a picture of you two taken in a photo booth. He has two while you have the other two in your wallet. The first picture is you two laughing at something he said right before the picture was taken. The second one is you sitting on his lap looking at him while he looks down at you with a loving smile on his face. This isn't fucking fair. Before he knows it, a tear drips down onto the worn leather of his wallet.

"I know we all sound like broken records, but she is going to be okay," Emily says.

"They're not doing anything to help her, Emily." Spencer sighs shakily. "We shouldn't be working this case. We should be working on hers. I don't care what Strauss says."

"I agree with you. Maybe we can work on it but it's gonna have to be in secret. After this case."

"Yeah. Okay," Spencer agrees.

Emily walks closer to the spot where Kristie was found and looks around the area.

"So, there are no tire tracks. The body wasn't dumped that far from the road. This guy doesn't care about them, not enough to even hide them very well."

"That's why this doesn't make any sense. Dump sites reveal something about the unsub. At the very least, a geographic familiarity, a place he knows he won't get caught."

"He knows this road, except he abducted Kristie in Farmington and dumped her in Rio Rancho. It's a hundred-and-seventy-five-mile drive. Why drive that far just to dump a body on the side of the road?" Emily asks.

"A forensic countermeasure? Covering his tracks by sheer distance?"

"The geographical profile won't do us much good."

"No, it will, just not with the victims. We profiled that it's the babies that he's interested in. That's where he'll reveal himself. Through the adoption company he sells through, and whatever network of resources he uses. He makes shortcuts there for convenience. No one's gonna drive a hundred miles for diapers or for a public notary for legal paperwork. If the babies are in the system, they'll lead us to him."

Spencer's mind returns to you once he and Emily leave the dump site. This is only your first week in prison and you already want to die. Everyone around you has done something bad, so bad that you can feel their guilt, their anger, and their sadness all rolled into one as if it's your own. You're trying really hard not to break down crying right now. If you're seen as weak, then your time here isn't going to be very fun. Still, your hand trembles, and your breathing shakes.

Lunch time comes quicker than you think which is something you've been dreading. You feel like you're back in high school with the way there are already cliques sitting together. The mean ones who don't take shit sit in one corner, the loners who keep their heads down are in another, and two types of gangs hang out separately. The feeling of not knowing where to sit is still present as if this is your first day. You've been lucky and have had a table or section to yourself but not today. Almost every table is full of women scarfing down food as if they hadn't eaten in months.

The panic must be evident on your face because someone calls out your name from the right. You turn to see one of your cellmates waving you over to her. She's the one who you got the friendliest vibe from when you first arrived. You quickly rush across the cafeteria over to her and take a seat across from her.

"I'm surprised you know my name," you say and stick your fork into the mystery meat they've served.

"I heard some guards talking about you. You're fresh meat. Everyone knows you're here."

"That doesn't make me feel better."

"I'm Ashley. I've been here long enough to know you need friends in your corner, and you seem nice enough. You're not gonna kill me in my sleep, are you?"

"No," you chuckle. "Whatever you heard about me isn't true. I shouldn't even be here."

"What do you mean?" You look up at her and her eyes widen in realization. "I'm sorry. That's none of my business."

"No, it's okay. I was framed for something I didn't do. Someone wants me in here suffering for what they did. I can't get into the details of my case since it's open right now, but I've never harmed someone much less killed them. I guess I have to hold my head high and keep moving on."

"I'm so sorry. I know how you feel. Do you mind me asking what you did before coming here?"

You look around the cafeteria and lower your voice a few octaves so others don't hear you. There is something about Ashley that tells you she can be trusted.

"I'm an FBI agent." You return your voice back to normal. "I help people. I bring justice to those who deserve it. I put away the bad guys and bring peace to families. This isn't me. This," you gesture to the prison, "isn't me."

"Yeah, I know something about that," she sighs.

"What do you mean? What's your story, if you don't mind me asking."

"I was a babysitter for the longest time. I love kids. I love being around kids. I accepted this job as a babysitter for what I assumed was this nice older couple, Roger and Anita Roycewood. They had young kids, so I figured they were either adopted or grandkids. Either way, I was eager to start. I thought everything was going well until the husband was paying more attention to me than his own wife. I never pictured myself as a homewrecker and immediately put a stop to it. I wanted to leave but I needed the money. 

"When his wife found out he's made multiple passes at me, she got pissed. So pissed that it scared me. She was throwing things and breaking things so I fled to the basement. He was guarding the door, and I didn't want to think what would happen if I tried to leave that way. I saw the children down there in locked rooms. I immediately called the police, but the couple managed to convince them it was me who did this, that I came into their lives, took control over them, and locked their kids down there.

"I was sent here with no chance of parole. It's been a couple of years, and even though I'm on good behavior, they won't reconsider my sentence."

"Ashley, I am going to get us out of here. My team is the best in the business, and I know they will help us both get out."

"I lost hope a long time ago," she whispers.

"I'll have it for the both of us. I promise."

She gives you a small smile but there is no hope behind it. She thinks she's stuck in here, but you're going to prove to her that people like you two deserve second chances. Meanwhile, JJ and Rossi talk with CPS back at the police station. One agent was more than happy to come down and spill the tea, as you like to say.

"Child trafficking is huge in other countries, but it's mostly a myth here."

"Why is that?"

"There's an easier and legal path to take--adoption."

"There'd be a paper trail, though, wouldn't there?" JJ asks.

"Not always. There are ways to hide your tracks."

"There must be a way to identify all these kids."

"There is a court record for every adoption."

"Give us the records. We'll start weeding them out by date," Rossi says.

"The adoptions in this state are closed. The files are sealed. It'll take time."

"That's a luxury we don't have. There's a child at risk right now," JJ urges.

"All children who go in and out of the adoption system get basic genetic screenings for pre-existing conditions. We have their DNA."

"We can use that," JJ says to Rossi. "We can match the maternal DNA with the babies in the system."

"You're still talking hundreds of kids, if not more," the CPS agent warns.

"What if we give you one of the babies' DNA?" Rossi asks.

"That would make it go faster, yeah."

JJ is confused about how to get the baby's DNA if there is no baby to test, but Rossi immediately explains.

"He kills these moms so soon after they give birth so that secondary DNA could still be on their bodies. Maybe even an umbilical cord."

"I'll call the ME and have Morgan go down there." 

JJ steps off to the side and calls the ME to prepare for testing. There have been three victims to surface from this unsub, and the two most recent ones didn't have any DNA on them. The only one who might have it is the first victim, Monica. She is already buried, so she calls Monica's parents to ask permission to dig her back up. It takes them twenty minutes to come down to the station so she can ask in person rather than over the phone.

"Agent Jareau?" She turns to see an older couple walk through the doors. "I'm Conrad Winmar. This is my wife, Jane."

"Thank you for coming in. Why don't we talk privately?" JJ takes them to an empty office and explains to them what is going on. "I know it's hard to hear, but we need to examine Monica."

"You want to dig up our daughter?" Conrad stutters.

"We think the unsub might have left DNA on her. The last two victims didn't have any, but because Monica was the first, he might have made a mistake."

"Back when they found her, the detectives said they didn't find his DNA."

"It's not his DNA we're looking for. We suspect your daughter gave birth while she was captive."

"What?" Conrad whispers.

"The unsub has gotten all of his victims pregnant. He might be putting the babies in the adoption system."

"The baby is alive?" Jane asks.

"Possibly. If we can find placental tissue on Monica, we can test the DNA against the state's records."

"Give us the release forms," Jane sniffles and holds out her hand.

JJ does as she's told, and both parents sign the papers as fast as they can. If their grandchild is alive out there, then they want to find him or her as fast as possible. Once it's signed and filed, Derek goes to the ME's office where Monica's body is currently. The ME thought she was just another girl on the street, not caring what she did to herself, that he never thought to check for the umbilical cord still inside her. The child should be about four now, and Derek takes the umbilical cord to get tested for DNA.

Once he's done, he heads back to the police station where Penelope is on the line talking to the rest of the team.

"Okay, know this, most adoption folks are the nicest, most dedicated people in the world. There are, however, one or two skeezy ones."

"How skeevy?" Spencer asks.

"Super skeezy. I've got a spreadsheet from one of them expecting compensation for the baby I'm having."

"Something you want to tell me, Garcia?" Derek asks.

"Oh, that's the sad part, my Prince. The genetically perfect offspring of Penelope Garcia and Derek Morgan wouldn't fetch top dollar. White babies are in higher demand than minorities. Boys are more popular than girls, at least this year, anyway. Then there's the Swedish supermodel rule."

"The what?" Emily asks.

"If I were to deliver a blond-haired, blue-eyed bundle of joy, I'd be set for life. I would."

"Garcia, did the baby's DNA turn up in New Mexico's adoption records?" Hotch wonders.

"No, there are no hits on her profile. It's a her, by the way."

"This unsub could still be selling babies, just not through the system. That's gonna make him a lot harder to catch. Alright, it's late. Let's get some rest. We'll hit this fresh in the morning."

"Garcia out."

As the team is packing up to go back to the hotel, Hotch stops Derek and pulls him off to the side.

"Morgan. I'd like for you to write up a preliminary profile."

"We don't have enough for that."

"That's why it's preliminary. A work-in-progress profile helps show us what we're missing."

"Okay, sure," Derek nods.

Derek leaves with the team, leaving Hotch and Rossi alone.

"How are you holding up?" Rossi asks.

"We just wasted a day looking into a black market that probably doesn't exist."

"That's not what I mean. I've heard whispers. You're getting some heat."

"It's this whole Y/N thing. It's all coming back to me. I'm handling it, though."

"I have no doubt that you are. So, do you think we have a tunnel vision problem?"

"I think we'd like to believe that we could save those kids, but look what he does to the mothers. That's a lot of anger. He's probably doing the same thing to the children. His own children," Hotch scoffs.

"Maybe. Garcia said something interesting. Blond-haired, blue-eyed babies get top dollar in the adoption system. All the mothers have blond hair and blue eyes. We can start there in the morning."

x

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[differentkettleoffishalltogether]

An Inconvenient Affection [Chapter 1]

Summary: When a couples’ therapist is suspected of murdering his own patients, Y/N and Spencer must go undercover as a feuding married couple to draw him out.

A/N:  This is the first part in a series, thank you so much for the response to the teaser! I hope you guys enjoy, and any feedback is always appreciated! ❤️

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader 

Category: Fake Dating, Friends to Lovers, (Eventual) Smut, Fluff, Angst

Warnings: alcohol consumption, language, criminal minds typical violence, murder mention, suicide mention, stalking, cheating, please let me know if I've missed anything!

Word Count: 4.4k

Next Chapter 

Series Masterlist

Read it on AO3

Masterlist 

"He's forcing one to kill the other" Spencer mutters under his breath, staring so intently at the photos pinned the the cork board that he must be able to see through them by now.

"Pardon?" Y/N pipes up from her perch at the opposite end of the room, surrounded by imposing stacks of files, photos, newspaper clippings, anything to give her something even resembling a leg up on this case.

Spencer turns sharply on his heel to face the team, his hands contorted as he speaks, "The unsub, he's abducting couples but I think he could be forcing one to kill the other" he states it louder this time, tearing a photo down from the board and walking it over.

"We already know they were killed with the same gun, but why was Mrs. Milton restrained while Mr. Milton wasn't?"

Y/N screws her eyebrows together in confusion, she'd been at the scene and she'd analyzed the photos. Mr. Milton had been restrained. There was another chair at the scene that seemed as though he'd been strapped to it, the bindings were loosened but the general assumption was that he'd managed to free himself before getting shot by the unsub.

"I think our killer untied him" Reid spoke confidently, Y/N liked watching him like this. He could be so shy in his day to day life but there was something about his work that gave him a boost.

"So do you think the same goes for the Stevenson's from 4 months back? What could his motivations be for doing something like that?" Derek asks. The first case had initially been labeled as a murder suicide by the local police precinct but the most recent victims were both shot in the back of the head. Though the scenes had far too many similarities to rule out a serial homicide.

"Most likely" he nods, "though I haven't gotten to the why just yet. But what I can tell you is that our unsub seems to really hate the women" He turns his attention back to the cork board.

"Well that's not very original" Y/N quips before pulling out her cell phone to call Garcia. "Hey Babe, I'm gonna need you to find any overlap between the Miltons and the Stevensons, any clubs, stores, hangout spots, somewhere where they could've met, or met the same people. If that's too broad maybe narrow in on the wives, anywhere they would've potentially overlapped, we think they could've been this unsub’s primary target"

"But of course my Angel" Garcia's almost sickly sweet voice pours out of the headset along with he clacking of her brightly colored nails on the keys. "Hmm." she let's out a little frustrated, "They lived a little too far apart to be members of the same gym, church, what have you. Wait!" she stops in her tracks excited, "Both couples had several appointments at the same clinic, St. Andrews Medical Centre, but those records are sealed."

Y/N lets out a frustrated sigh, "Can you unseal 'em?"

Garcia scoffs, "Can I unseal them, who are you talking to? I'll have the info in 3, 2, 1, Bingo. Both couples had several appointments with a therapist, one Dr. Harris in the months leading up to and week of their disappearance" she sends a picture and attached file to Y/N's tablet as she beckons Spencer over to take a look.

"He's a therapist with a specialty in, oh," Garcia pauses, "couples counseling"

"So what were they in for?" Derek pipes up, "Is our Dr. just interested in the look or has the couples' issue got something to do with it?"

Y/N reads through the files Garcia's sent on Dr. Harris, combing though them as fast as she can for any ounce of helpful information.

"Harris is divorced?" Y/N says in confusion.

"His wife cheated on him, and she's currently married to that guy" Garcia interjects, "he wrote a whole article about it, yeesh, someone is not over it.”

"Maybe he's targeting couples where the wives have been unfaithful to their husbands?" Spencer suggests, "That would account for the unjust hate towards the women, and the implication that he forced their husbands to kill them first, perhaps he's using them as a surrogate for the vengeance he wants?"

"Maybe so, but we've got no evidence for any of this, the crime scenes were spotless, not even a trace of DNA to tie anyone other than the couples to the scene, if it is this guy then we have to prove it before we can arrest him." JJ counters as the voice of reason.

The room goes silent.

"Prove it?" Y/N asks, Hotch looks down at her, before averting his gaze towards Spencer sitting beside her.

"I've got an idea" he says, monotone and serious. “The two of you come with me.” He motions with is hand.

The two of them look at each other with profound confusion before following behind Hotch, resigned.

----

“A married couple?!” Spencer all but shouts, the office is hardly soundproof and the rest of the team must’ve caught on by now. For the ‘smartest member of the team’ Spencer sure had some gaping holes in his foresight.

“You can’t be serious!”

He stands up from his chair, shaking his head in disbelief, starting to pace around the medium sized office to work off the nervous energy building in his chest.

“This is hardly outrageous Reid” Hotch states, making sympathetic but brief eye contact with Y/N before he pinches the bridge of his nose in an effort to restrain himself. “Yourself and Y/N already have a friendship to build on, she’s worked undercover many times and your memory should make it simple for you to integrate into the false narrative she can construct. Plus, you’re a non-threatening presence to an unsub like this. What else could you possibly need convincing of?” Hotch adds with exasperation, he’d mentioned all of that and more in his initial proposition but Spencer was still reluctant.

“If I’m really that repulsive I’m sure we can find someone else to play my husband Spence?” Y/N tries to joke but there’s something about the sentence that makes her stomach uneasy.

“No!” Spencer sits again with haste, looking between the two other agents, “No that’s not it, I just” he takes in a deep sigh, “I don’t know if I’ll be any good at this, I don’t want to ruin the investigation” he confesses and Hotch immediately shoots it down.

“That won’t be an issue, our unsub’s primary target will be Y/N. She’ll be the cheating partner, your role will mostly be following her lead which shouldn’t be too difficult”

Spencer might be great at acting after all. He lets his shoulders slump and his posture relaxes entirely as though his boss has just put all of his worries to rest. But that’s not what was bothering him. Not even close.

He’s had a stupid schoolboy crush on Y/N from her first day at the BAU. He’d like to think it had come later but he knew it had been almost instant. Her first day had been on Halloween 2 years earlier, he’d been explaining the historical origins of the holiday when Y/N corrected his pronunciation of the Irish word Samhain.

“It’s more like ‘Sah-whin’ than ‘Sam-hain’ in spite of its spooky origins it’s actually the current Irish word for November” she spoke up from her seat in the bullpen, setting up some stationary at the once empty desk next to Spencer’s.

“Y/N L/N,” she stood up outstretching her hand, “I guess I’m your new co-worker” she half-smiled, her nervous energy getting the better of her as he ignored her gesture and just looked at her palm instead.

“He’s just weird about touching” Emily reaches out to reciprocate the handshake, “I’m Emily Prentiss, it’s nice to meet you, this little guy here is Spencer Reid” she says as she places her hands on both of his shoulders and shakes him gently

“Dr. Spencer Reid” he corrects quickly, shooting her a tight lipped smile paired with an even more awkward half-wave.

“Oh, a doctor” she raises her eyebrows, “best not tell my Mom I work with a doctor or she’ll be hounding me to marry you” she cracks. It’s obviously a joke but Spencer can’t help but recall the conversation now and how prescient it feels.

“We can work out the details together if you think that’ll help you feel more comfortable?” Y/N reaches out her hand to touch his forearm to steady him in his seat. He’d grown so used to her casual touch by now that he barely noticed it. But this time, with his rolled up sleeve, feeling her fingertips against his bare skin it felt as though he was going to combust. How was he going to be able to hide this childish infatuation if they had to masquerade as a married couple. What if she touched him literally anywhere else. She was a profiler too, of course she’d notice.

“It’s paramount that it looks natural. This unsub knows the ins and outs of what it’s like to be a married couple so I’ll expect the two of you to prepare accordingly” Hotch is stern and focusing on Y/N as he speaks, “Work on it together, tonight, and report back to me tomorrow morning. We’ll make our decision on how to proceed then.” he says before dismissing them from his office.

They stand in the bullpen in unsure silence for a moment too long before Y/N speaks, “So, your place or mine hubby?” she leans on the last word and it feels comical coming out of her mouth but it still makes something in Spencer’s stomach tighten.

——

Garcia sends them away with piles of notes and transcriptions from each of the couples’ sessions so they could aim to predict the kind of questions they could be asked. Digging through interviews with Mrs. Milton’s friends it became apparent that she’d been stalked in the weeks leading up to her abduction, and potentially longer. Y/N and Spencer had to be prepared for that eventuality too.

Each of the couples had had at least 4 appointments before they were abducted, so the new Mr. and Mrs. Reid had to come up with several hours worth of talking points, along with day to day appearance of living as a married couple in order to be prepared.

Shouldn’t be too difficult.

Spencer was already making moves to walk back his commitment. Now that he was in Y/N’s living room pages strewn about the coffee table he was finding the whole situation a little overwhelming.

“Look I don’t think I’m up for this, I’ll just call Morgan and see if he can do it. I’m so bad at lying Y/N, I’ll get us both killed” he lets his head flop down into his hands.

“Hey, hey, calm down. Just rest your head between your knees and take a few deep breaths” Y/N coaxes and he does as instructed, his heart rate dropping to normal again almost instantly. It might be the breathing exercise but it’s probably her hand tracing up and down his back over the fabric of his dress shirt that’s actually calming him.

“The golden rule of working undercover is to tell the truth until you absolutely have to lie” she says softly, continuing her movements along his spine. “Sure we have to lie about being married, and about my infidelity. But that doesn’t mean everything has to be a lie. We can pull stories from our real lives and force them into our Legend.”

“Legend?” he says into his own lap, just loud enough for her to hear.

“Mmhmm” she hums, her finger tracing circles between his shoulder blades now, “Our Legend, it’s like our profile, our history, for our undercover identities. We’ll build it together so that we know it inside out. But it doesn’t have to be a total fabrication.” Her voice is gentle and sweet as she explains.

Spencer sits up straight again, looking to Y/N with a furrowed brow and she continues, “Remember the first time we hung out outside of work?” She coaxes and he nods. Even if he didn’t have an eidetic memory he would never forget.

“You asked me to go see that Russian film and you translated it into my ear the whole time?” He smiles at the memory, “And I just hadn’t told you that I spoke Russian yet” she giggles.

She was going to tell him right as the movie started, honestly she was, but the way he had to lean in so close to whisper the words in her ear, so close that she could smell his soap and shampoo. She would’ve told him, but then he would’ve stopped.

“Then we went to that noodle place next door and you started to fact check a bunch of my translations?” He finishes the story.

“That’s the one!” She sees him ease into the seat on the sofa, his body beginning to relax, “So how about we keep things simple, that was our first date.” Y/N states so plainly, like the suggestion doesn’t make Spencer’s heart skip a beat.

“Yeah, okay.” he nods in agreement swallowing the lump in his throat.

“Great, so we have our starting point” she pulls out a notebook and makes a note of it, he leans over to peer at the writing on the page.

“November 18th” he says quietly and she turns to him confused,

“That was the uh, the date, the date of our ‘first date’” she nods in agreement and puts the date next to the bullet-point in the notebook

“November 18th” she repeats content.

——

“We’re Spencer and Y/N Green. We’ve been together for 2 years, married for just over a year. We eloped in Vegas after going to visit Spencer’s Mother. He’s a professor and I’m a bartender. That bar is where we met. We have opposite schedules in order to facilitate my infidelity.”

Y/N and Spencer stand at the top of the room facing the team gathered at the round table, the pages of their legend tacked to the board behind them.

“I found out after I left work early 4 months ago. Y/N doesn’t have a consistent partner but revealed she’d been casually sleeping with other people for the 6 months prior. She agreed to stop at the time but continued to cheat. This time we’re seeking professional counseling to see if we can save the marriage.” Spencer finished the story with ease. Turning to Y/N to shoot her a small smile.

Once they’d worked out the overall story, the details came easy. He wouldn’t let on but he was pretty confident he may know everything there was to know about his ‘wife’ already.

“Okay, if you both feel confident I can start making the arrangements with Garcia to set up an appointment for you two” Hotch stands up from the table turning back on his way out.

“Great work agents.”

——

There were no appointments available until the following week, which comes as both a stress and a relief. On one hand it gives them more time to prepare, but on the other hand it stretches this whole situation out further.

Garcia coaxes Rossi into inviting everyone over for the evening with little to no real effort. More than anything Spencer just wants to go home and read in the peace and quiet of his living room, but Y/N sits herself on the edge of his desk before he has a chance to leave for the night.

“You coming kid?” She picks up his satchel off the ground to hand it to him as he stands, he takes it from her before shaking his head.

“I don’t know that I’m up for it” he scrunches up his nose a little as he says it, it’s one of the nervous ticks he’s got that Y/N loves the most.

“Aw c’mon. My husband is gonna make me go to a party on my own? No wonder I went and cheated on you” she shoves his shoulder gently, antagonizing him just a little. He chuckles as he and shakes his head softly. “But seriously Spence, it’s been a rough day and half, and it’ll be an even weirder week. It might be good for you to blow off a little steam, get out of your own head” she reaches up to ruffle his hair as she says it.

He loves that. The way she has to reach all the way up on her tippy toes to get to the top of his head but she still insists on doing it. He softens with so little convincing.

“Y’know what, you’re right” he sighs, slinging his bag across his shoulder, “Lets get out of here.”

And it’s already worth it to see the smile that spreads across Y/N’s cheeks.

——

“I can see it, I think pretty boy here’s a bit stiff but you can pull it off” Morgan squints at the two of them sitting next to one another around Rossi’s table.

“Hey I’m not stiff” Spencer jumps to his own defense before the table erupts with laughter. He wants to fight it again but Y/N’s hand comes to rest on his forearm laying on the table between them.

“Yes you are Spence, but I married you anyway” she makes an exaggerated kissing face before the table begins to giggle yet again. Spencer doesn’t mind this time because after the joke is over her hand doesn’t move from it’s position.

“Oh, oh, oh!” Garcia almost begins to vibrate in her chair, “I’ve got a great idea, we should test you guys”

The team starts to holler and the sound throws Spencer’s head back into chaos. Each time he felt his heart start to palpitate he hoped Y/N couldn’t tell.

Garcia pulls out her phone and starts to look for questions, “What did they wear on your first date?” She asks with a quirk of her eyebrow.

“A light blue sweater with black pants and boots” Spencer answers with no hesitation.

“No fair!” Y/N yelps, “this game is rigged, the kids got an eidetic memory!”

“Alright then, I’ll change it up, who’s the tidiest?” Garcia asks, and that’s also unfair because Y/N knows it’s Spencer but doesn’t want to pay him that compliment. Before she can speak he’s already on it though.

“Me, is that not obvious?” He jokes,

“Yeah okay that one’s right too” Y/N sulks.

“What’s their dream job?” Garcia offers and Y/N jumps in before he can answer first.

“Aha! Magician!” she yelps and Spencer turns to her, eyebrows pulled together.

“Yeah, how’d you remember that?” he interrogates.

He knows exactly when he told her. Y/N was having a moment during a case. it was getting to her more than she’d like to admit but Spencer could tell. She’d knocked on his hotel room door one evening when she couldn’t sleep, she knew it wasn’t his strong suit either.

He’d let her in, settling on the bed. This was one of the better mattresses they’d had in a hotel. It helped soothe the muscles that had been tensed all day. Y/N didn’t want to talk about why she couldn’t sleep. This was the first time it happened, but they’ve found themselves in each other’s hotel rooms over and over as the cases went by.

They both knew that what they were searching for was distraction, and comfort, but they wouldn’t admit to the last one.

“Just tell me something, anything”

Spencer had to wrack his brain looking around the hotel room when something struck him. “Do you want to hear an interesting hotel fact?”

“Sure Spence, shoot” she murmured into the pillow she had curled up in her lap.

“Did you know that the ‘Sky Beam’, a bright light that shoots out of the Luxor Hotel in Las Vegas, attracts so many insects that it has established a new ecosystem of moths, bats, and owls” he says with fervor but he can see from the way her face contorts that he’s put the wrong foot forward.

“Not a gross fact Spencer” she knocks him in the head with her pillow, not too harsh, but rough enough to ruffle his curls.

He skims the room again, eyes landing on a few coins scattered on his bedside table. “How about a magic trick?” she looks at him strange but shakes the expression away and nods.

Spencer picks up a coin of the nightstand and shows it to Y/N with   enthusiasm, “See just a regular coin” he jokes and she returns the look exasperated.

“Alright, spoilsport” he holds it out to her pinched between the thumb and index finger of his right hand, moving his left hand over the coin quickly before it vanishes. He then holds out his two empty palms to Y/N for inspection.

“Nah, bullshit” she says, pulling his open palms towards her. He snaps them away before she can look too hard. Pulling his hands back in towards himself he waves one in front of the other and the coin reappears between his fingers.

“What?” is all she can say, and he’s accomplished his goal of distracting her now. “How’d you do that?” she picks up the coin and starts to inspect it closely, with no idea what she’d even be looking for.

“A magician never reveals his secrets” he smirks, confident now that he’s left her so dumfounded. She snaps her head up to look at him, throwing the coin back into his waiting hands.

“So you’re a magician now?” she jokes, reclining back onto the pillows below her and turning her head to look up at him. He follows suit, lying down on his own pillows next to Y/N and returns her gaze.

“Yup, that’s actually what I wanted to do when I was a kid. Still do if I’m honest with myself. So I guess if this FBI thing ever goes belly-up I’ve got a back up plan” he says it like it’s just a silly joke but Y/N can see it’s a little more than that. Spencer joined the BAU so young he almost didn’t get to have a childhood at all, he barely even chose what he would spend the rest of his life working at.

“You have to teach me that one sometime” she yawns, shutting her eyes softly.

“Anytime” he smiles, even thought she can’t see it, and watches as her breathing evens out and she’s asleep. He’s gone not long after. He wishes he had the energy left to stay awake, watching her for even a few moments more so that he could commit the sight to memory. But something about her presence in his room, in his bed, just put him at complete ease and he couldn’t help but fall asleep.

Like so many things in their friendship he’d assumed he was the only one to remember it all so vividly. Despite how often Y/N proved him wrong he would never get used to it.

“Of course I remembered you wanted to be a magician Spencer. How was I supposed to forget that, you still haven't taught me that coin thingy” she feigns annoyance but really she’s just had a glass or two of Rossi’s expensive wine and is feeling brave.

“Sorry Y/N I tried to teach you that, your coordination is just that bad” he shrugs and takes a sip from his own glass.

Derek interrupts, scanning the screen of Garcia’s phone for an interesting question before he appears to land on one, his face lighting up.

“Of the two of you, who’s the better kisser?” Derek says with pure confidence that catches Spencer so off guard that he almost spits out his wine like he’s in a cartoon.

“We haven’t– we don't need– we uh” Spencer stammers having next to no clue what he’s even trying to say.

“I’m sure it’s 50/50, isn’t that right Mr. Green?” Y/N reaches her hand up to cup his cheeks, pushing his lips into a small pout. The red wine staining his lips ever so slightly so that they’re just a shade pinker than usual. And Y/N can’t help but stare at them for a second too long before looking up into his eyes.

He looks uneasy, and a little nervous so she lets go of his cheeks, letting her hand fall down to rest on his forearm once again, grazing the exposed skin.

“You gotta at least play the part pretty boy” Derek laughs, “What happens if this therapist starts asking about your sex life, are you gonna clam up, freak out?”

And he hadn’t thought about it. But it made sense, the sessions were going to be about ‘cheating’ which is by it’s very nature linked to their sex life. This was worse than he thought.

“Don’t worry your pretty little head about it Morgan. I’ve thought of it all.” Y/N waves off the comment, gripping Spencer’s arm a little tighter as she spoke in an effort to comfort him. “You know what, I actually think it might be time to head out.” She stands up from the table, rubbing her ‘husband’s’ shoulder as she moves so that he follows suit, recognizing this move as her saving him from the interaction.

They’re out the door together with minimal teasing in under 3 minutes, piled into a cab beside each other with no real plan other than to leave that table.

“Do you want to go by to yours and watch old reruns of The Twilight Zone?” Y/N offers and Spencers shoulders almost melt into the black leather of the seat behind him.

“So so badly” he groans, letting his eyes close as he falls back against the headrest.

——

Thank you so much for reading, comments, reblogs, and tags are always appreciated! ❤️

Let me know what you thought about this chapter here <3

Next Chapter

Series Masterlist

Masterlist 

[bisexual-thoughtss]

Spencer’s Couch

Spencer Reid x Reader

Inspired by Spencer’s constant jet couch hogging and how damn cuddly he looks when hogging said couch.

“Wheels up in 30. We’re going to need all hands on deck for this, you’re both coming,” Hotch informed you and Garcia as he dismissed the round table meeting.

“I- me?” You squeaked, never having gone out on a case, always staying in the familiarity of the bat cave when the rest of the team went out. Hotch nodded matter-of-factly, sweeping out of the room. You turned to Penelope with wide eyes, but before you could voice any worries she was already reassuring you.

“You’re gonna be great kid,” she smiled, hugging you briefly before ushering you out of the room to get your things.

When you entered the jet, you looked around with wide eyes. Of course you’d seen it over video chats, but it was way different being there in person.

“Welcome abord,” Derek joked as he brushed past you, settling into a seat at the table. He gestured at the seat across from him, so you sat, smiling as Spencer entered, plopping down next to you. You struck up a conversation, allowing Spencer to ramble on while you listened happily, ignoring the pointed looks Derek was throwing your way at your heart eyes.

The case had been a rough one, but you were finally going home. You never thought you’d be so happy to see the inside of the jet, but it was like an oasis after the hellish two weeks you’d been gone. You groaned as you flopped onto the couch near the back of the jet, several members of the team raising their eyebrows. They all had an unspoken understanding that the couch was Spencer’s on the way home, but you had no way of knowing that. Spencer usually napped on the way home, and they knew he’d need it after the toll the case had taken on him. Before they could decide whether or not to tell you, Spencer was entering the jet. He stopped in his tracks, blinking owlishly at you for a second before sinking down onto the couch next to you. The rest of the team looked at each other, silently agreeing to leave you two alone. After everyone had settled in and the jet took off Spencer grabbed a blanket from a cabinet, trying to get comfortable without disturbing you.

“Do you want to lay down?” You asked, noticing his squirming, and preparing to move.

“No, no you don’t have to move, I’ll be fine,” he smiled sleepily.

“Come on, you’ll be more comfortable,” you insisted.

“No really, I-“ he started, but stopped in surprise when you gently pulled him over by his sweater, his head landing in your lap.

“O-oh, I-,” he stammered, a pretty blush spreading over his cheeks.

“Now we can both be comfortable,” you smiled as you leaned back into the sofa, opening up your book and beginning to read. Unbeknownst to you, Spencer’s heart was going a mile a minute as he got comfortable on your legs. After awhile of you reading peacefully and Spencer staying awake to enjoy the moment, you began absentmindedly carding your fingers through Spencer’s hair, gently untangling the knots. Spencer glanced around, seeing the others asleep and turned to look up at you. You felt him move under your hand, snapping you out of your book you’d been lost in.

“Sorry I hadn’t realized I was-“ you started to whisper, beginning to remove your hand before Spencer stopped you.

“No, it was nice, I liked it. Would you like to lay down too?” He asked carefully, smiling up at you.

“I’d love to,” you answered the thinly veiled request to cuddle, his face lighting up. You rearranged yourselves on the couch, Spencer holding the blanket up for you to slip under, and tucked yourself underneath his chin. He wrapped his arm around your waist, sighing contentedly. His breath hitched as you leaned your head up, pressing a small kiss to his collarbone. Before you could overthink it and panic with regret, he pressed his own kiss to the top of your head. You promised yourself you two would get up before the team caught you, before you drifted off to sleep.

And if Derek woke up before everyone else and took a picture of the two of you, well that’s no one else’s business but his. Until he shows Penelope, that is.