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pinkcoffeecup · 2 years ago

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three doors down, part three

part 3, the nickname

story summary: In which Spencer’s terrible cooking skills almost burns down a building, but also gives him a chance to get to know the girl who lives three doors down.

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word count: 2,491

Spencer was exhausted. When the clock struck 4 am, Y/n ushered Spencer out of her apartment and into his own, telling him how important sleep was, and how crime would skyrocket unless Spencer got a couple of hours of sleep at the very least. She had apologised for keeping him up, and despite his polite reassurance that she in fact was not to blame for his sleep schedule, Y/n could not help but feel bad.

When he stepped out of his apartment that morning, he was once more met by Y/n as she came back from her morning run. Spencer had already established her loyalty to the various routines that her days consisted of, but he couldn’t help but be shocked by her standing in the hallway. “Oh, good morning,” She breathed, still somewhat out of her breath.

“Good morning Y/n,” Spencer greeted. “I can’t believe you went on a run after only three hours of sleep,”

Y/n let out a laugh and Spencer couldn’t help but smile at how carefree she seemed. There was something about her, and just being around her gave him a burst of energy, like he could concur the world. “I always go for runs in the mornings! I can’t let a little lack of sleep stop me,” She laughed, “I’m no baby, Dr Reid,”

“We could use a little of that mentality in the FBI,” Spencer joked, “I swear, the annual fitness tests we have are un-passable, Morgan has to be the only one who still manages,”

She raised her eyebrows at the supposedly “impossible” fitness test, secretly curious if she could ever pass it. “How hard can it be?” Y/n challenged, “I mean, if this Morgan guy can do it, it’s not impossible,”

“As I said, we could use that mentality in the FBI,” He repeated, “Derek Morgan is no average Joe, he’s absolutely massive,”

Y/n looked Spencer up and down. He was dressed in a black suit, looking as formal as ever, a vast contrast from last night's scruffy hair and wrinkled shirt. “Are you sizing me up?” Spencer laughed, “I’m taller than him you know,”

“So you’re just weak then? Is that it?” She teased, watching as he let out a painful scoff.

“They make exceptions for me,” Spencer said, “What I lack in muscle mass I make up for in brains,”

“Aren’t you cocky?” Y/n laughed, “Hyping yourself up there Dr Reid,”

Once more Spencer scoffed, “I can’t win here” He chuckled, “I'm going to be late because of you, which I was fine with by the way, until you start completely shredding me to pieces,”

Y/n smiled at his choice of words, which I was fine with. “You’re a menace Y/n,” He joked as he walked past her, turning around and walking backwards so that he could still see her. “Have a good day Lucifer,”

“Good luck with your case Sherlock!” She called as he turned the corner.

----

“Sorry I’m late,” Spencer muttered as he sat down in his seat. He was the last one to arrive, everyone was already seated around the table.

“Who’s the pretty girl?” Morgan cooed, a wide grin on his face.

He had probably said it as a joke, but Spencer’s mind travelled directly to Y/n and their conversation in the hallway. “Shut up,” Spencer sighed, causing Hotch to quickly begin the briefing.

The day was long. Every so often Spencer would find Y/n at the forefront of his mind, having to force himself to focus on the case in front of him. But he just couldn’t help himself. He wondered if she’d be in the hallway when he came home, asking him about his day. Or if maybe he’d run into her in the parking lot, where she would crack a joke and invite him in for another night of leftovers and wine.

Eventually, the team cracked the case. It was the combined effort of Spencer’s mind and Garcia's computers that had found the final puzzle piece. In the satisfactory haze of success, Spencer had even found himself agreeing to drinks with the team, something he rarely did.

As he sat down in his car, he contemplated ignoring his promise to meet his colleagues at the bar and just going home instead, remembering how badly he was wondering if he’d cross paths with Y/n. But he didn’t, instead, he turned the keys in the ignition and headed towards the bar.

“You just lost me ten bucks!” Morgan exclaimed as Spencer walked through the doors, handing ten dollar bill to Prentiss. “I didn’t think you’d show up,”

Emily gladly accepted the money and shoved it in her pocket, “I never doubted you, Reid,”

Even Hotch had made it to the bar before him, another participant who usually sat these things out, “I never break a promise,” Spencer smiled, trying to ignore his urge to turn on his heels and drive back home.

The team sat together in a booth. They always did, at least for the first part of the night. After thirty minutes, Morgan would spot a girl he liked, and pretend he was going to get a drink. Then shortly after, Garcia would pull JJ and Prentiss out of their seats to dance. Once everyone had dispersed, Rossi would complain about the music and go home. And once he had made sure everyone had a safe way of getting home, Hotch would leave too. “Spence,” JJ said, “It’s your turn!”

She glanced at the empty glasses on the table and back up at Spencer who rose from his seat, heading towards the bar. He ordered a round of drinks for the table, about to turn back to the team when he heard a voice next to him.

“Hi, could I please get one beer and two margaritas?” The voice politely ordered, and Spencer couldn’t help but smile as he listened to the girl order. The bartender muttered the total amount, and as the girl fished through her purse for money, Spencer reached his card to the bartender.

“Wha-” She interrupted herself as she glanced up at the man next to her. “Spencer!” She pulled him in for a hug, and despite Spencer’s shock, he gladly wrapped his arms around her. “I didn’t know the famous Dr Raid was a party animal!”

Spencer let out a laugh, “I very much am not,” He admitted, “I’m here with work,”

He nodded towards the booth in the corner, watching as they all laughed at some joke Morgan had made. “Shit, I have to warn everyone the feds are here!” She joked, starting to hurry away.

Spencer placed his hands on her shoulders, as to keep her from running, “I’m afraid I can’t let you do that,” He said, “Being one of the feds and all,”

She laughed, leaning her head against his hand on her shoulder. It was clear that she was already somewhat drunk, tipsy as Garcia would say. But Spencer didn't mind, he couldn’t help but find it adorable. “What? Is snitching a crime?” She grinned.

“It can be,” Spencer informed her, “And if you commit a crime I have no choice but to arrest you,”

Spencer’s flirtatious tone even surprised himself, it was a tone he didn’t think he was quite capable of. “I was called Lucifer by my neighbour this morning,” She said, referring to Spencer’s words, “So for all you know I might be a criminal,”

Right as Spencer was about to open his mouth to speak, another voice interrupted him. “Hey Reid what the hell is taking so long?” Morgan called from behind him. It wasn’t until Morgan was close enough to peer over Spencer’s shoulder that he could see Y/n. “Oh hello there,” He grinned.

“Is this that Morgan guy?” Y/n asked Spencer, holding back a laugh as she earned a nod from Spencer.

“Wow pretty boy, you’ve told her about me? I’m flattered,” Morgan joked, Spencer already annoyed with his best friend for interrupting his time with Y/n.

“Yeah,” Y/n laughed, “Spencer thinks you’re jacked,”

It was as if Y/n had made it her personal mission to embarrass the man in front of her. “He called you massive and muscular,” She giggled, only lying a little bit.

“Thanks, Reid, I’m glad you feel that way,” Morgan grinned, placing a hand on Spencer’s shoulder, a hand that Spencer quickly shoved off.

Spencer let out a sigh, “this is Derek Morgan, as you know,” He said, deciding to introduce the two, “And Morgan, this is Lucifer,”

Y/n reached her hand out, “I’m Y/n,” She shook Morgans's hand, an innocent smile on her face, almost as if she was trying to dispute Spencer's nickname. “Nice to meet you Y/n,”

“I’m gonna leave you two alone,” Morgan grabbed the drinks on the bar, heading back to the booth and the team, earning a small cheer once he arrived.

Spencer only now realised how very close he and Y/n had been standing to each other. She had to tilt her head up to be able to look at him. Looking down at the girl in front of him, Spencer's flirtatious tone returned. “Massive and muscular, huh?”

Y/n let out a loud laugh, throwing her head back slightly. “Is that not what you said, Doctor?” She teased, batting her eyes up at him.

“You really are Lucifer,” Spencer grinned, “The worst of the worst,”

Spencer shook his head playfully as Y/n laughed once more. It was a sound he loved to hear, and he loved that he made her make it. “You know me so well,” She giggled.

She turned her head for a second, gazing at two girls behind her, “I have to give them their drinks,” She said, a small flash of disappointment on her face. “Could you help me carry?”

Spencer nodded, grabbing two of the drinks, and letting her hold the last one. Y/n led the way, Spencer following close behind. It gave Spencer an opportunity to get a good look at her and the beautiful dress she was wearing. It was a short blue dress, the fabric flowing beautifully around her thighs as she walked. Half of her hair was clipped up at the back of her head, but a few strands of hair had escaped the clip and were resting softly across her face. “I come bearing gifts,” Y/n handed the beer to a dark-haired girl, and through the process of elimination, I handed one of the margaritas to the other girl, earning a small thank you from them both. “You come bearing more gifts than drinks I see,” The dark-haired girl grinned, glancing between Spencer and Y/n.

Y/n turned to Spencer, grabbing the drink from his grip and wrapping an arm around his waist. “Yeah,” She smiled, glancing up at Spencer next to her. “This is Spencer,”

“Oh this is the hot neighbour,” The dark-haired girl said, “I’m Astrid, this is Violet,” Astrid motioned to the girl next to her, who gave a shy wave.

Spencer looked down at Y/n, enjoying the way her face turned a bright shade of red. “I am indeed the hot neighbour, a pleasure to meet you both,”

Spencer felt a sense of pride fill his body at the thought of Y/n telling her friends about him, even more so as she described him as the hot neighbour. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever been referred to as just that, hot, but the thought of it made a wide grin make its way to his lips. “You’ve made him cocky,” Y/n groaned, rolling her eyes, “Don’t let it get to your ego Spencer,”

“Too late for that,” Spencer chuckled. He peeled Y/n’s arm off his body, deciding that it was time to make his way back to the team. “I’m gonna leave you girls for a bit, make sure you talk more about that hot neighbour of yours Y/n” He smirked before leaving the group and Y/n.

When Spencer had made his way back to the team, the table fell silent with anticipation. “So?” JJ said, waiting for Spencer to tell them all about the girl he’d just been caught with.

“What?” Spencer said, hoping that somehow they’d drop the topic and ignore how his cheeks were slowly turning red.

“Lucifer seems nice,” Morgan grinned, watching as Spencer turned a bright red.

“Lucifer?” Prentiss questioned, yet unaware of the nickname.

Morgan was happy to tell them about how that was how he’d decided to introduce her, and Spencer silently cursed himself for being so wrapped up in the moment.

The team continued to question Reid, but as they realised how little they were getting out of him, they decided to finally drop it. Soon enough, they had all returned to their regular bar-behaviour. Morgan had run off after a girl, Garcia had pulled JJ and Prentiss up to dance, and Hotch and Rossi were long gone.

As Spencer sat by himself in the booth, watching his friends as they drunkenly made their way through the bar, a finger poked the back of his shoulder. Spencer turned around, seeing a surprisingly nervous Y/n behind him. “Are you okay?” He asked, worried about her change of mood.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” She smiled, trying to add a careless touch to her body language. “I was just wondering if, uh, maybe you could, I don’t know, I was just thinking, since you’re sober-”

Spencer interrupted her, “You need a ride?” He asked, finding it adorable how nervous she had been to ask him. “If it’s not too much of a bother? We don’t have to leave right now if you want to stay,” She assured.

“No, we can leave right away, sit down here, let me just say goodbye to my friends,” He said, and she did as she was told, sitting down at the booth as Spencer moved through the bar to the dancing women in the middle of the room.

Y/n watched as he said his goodbyes to the women, before moving towards Morgan as he talked to a girl at the bar. Morgan grinned at Y/n as Spencer spoke to him, causing Spencer to roll his eyes before heading back towards a now smiling Y/n. “Let’s go,” He sighed, Y/n standing from her seat.

Spencer looked at her for a second, watching as Y/n’s eyebrows furrowed slightly with confusion. He pulled the suit jacket off his shoulders, wrapping it around hers, “It’s cold out,” He said, earning a shy thank you from the girl in front of him. He watched as she placed her arms through the jacket, shoving her hands in the pockets. The jacket looked massive on her, reaching right above the hem of her dress.

The two left the bar, Spencer ignoring Morgans's smirk as they walked out the front doors. “Thanks for giving me a ride,”

“Anytime,” Spencer flashed her a warm smile, opening the passenger side door for Y/n. “We do live in the same apartment complex after all,” Spencer hopped in at the driver's side, taking a second to look at Y/n in his car, wearing his jacket, before he started the car.

The ride was mostly silent, Spencer could see how Y/n was practically fighting to keep her eyes open as the streetlights lit up her face. She was pretty like that, as her head rested against the seat, her dress inching up her thigh slightly as she got comfortable in her seat.

Soon they had reached the parking lot outside the apartment complex, “Taxi has arrived ma’am,” Spencer joked, earning a tired giggle from Y/n as they both hopped out of the car, heading inside together.

The two walked to Y/n’s door where she stopped. She began taking the suit jacket off but was interrupted by Spencer. “Keep it for a while,” He said, pulling the jacket back up her shoulder.

Spencer looked down at her as she smiled, his expression all too serious in contrast to hers. “What?” She asked, watching as Spencer smiled once more. “You’re really pretty,” He said, feeling nervous despite his coined nickname as the hot neighbour.

“Don’t fall victim to the doorstep effect,” She giggled, only being met by Spencer’s confusion. “The doorstep effect?” He questioned.

“Yeah, it’s when the guy feels like he wants to kiss the girl because of the whole romance cliche about kissing on doorsteps,” She explained, “It’s a very real thing, Spencer,”

“I don’t think it’s because of the cliché,” Spencer admitted, taking a small step closer.

“But you want to kiss me?” Y/n asked, almost as if to confirm.

“Can I?”

Y/n didn’t answer, instead, she placed a hand on each side of his face, pulling him down to meet her lips. Her lips met his, and Spencer was quick to hold her face as he deepened the kiss. He hadn’t been aware of how much he had craved this kiss until her lips were on his.

Slowly, Spencer pulled away, loving the look in her eyes as she craved more. “Good night, Lucifer,” He said, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head.

“Good night Spencer,”

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hkpika07 · 8 months ago

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The Spencer Post

Hi this is where I explain my observed nuances with Spencer and how I personally characterize him. Explaining why I think he acts the way he does. Please note that like 90 percent of this is headcanon.

Let’s get some backstory on Spencer. His job is to be the personal private engine of the Duke and Duchess of Boxford. This is a very prestigious job, one unsurprising of his class of engine. Being a Gresly and being implied siblings with the real life engine Mallard, he has a lot of expectations and responsibilities put on his buffers. On top of that, let me remind you he is a private engine. Not only does he carry the weight of expected perfection as the other greslys, he has to look good and be the status symbol for the Duke and Duchess. He has. So much to keep on top of, to keep track of and remember. He arguably might have more expectations placed on him than Gordon or Scotsman.

Not only that but Spencer is very….alone. He doesn’t fit in anywhere on account of his position. He’s not really a mainland engine because he’s not always on the mainland. He’s not a Sodor engine because he doesn’t live on Sodor, he lives with the Duke and Duchess presumably at their main house somewhere else. He’s a puzzle piece that doesn’t fit into either picture.

But how does this affect how he acts? Why does he act like such an asshole? Well, the answer is a bit more complex than you might think. As we all know, steam engines are always at a risk of being scrapped. The exception being Sodor because Sodor is a steam sanctuary. But on the mainland it’s a different story. If engines on the mainland are at risk for being scrapped for not being useful enough, what’s to stop them from sabotaging each other in order to get a leg up on them. To make their competition look bad just so they can live another day. On the mainland its every man for himself. And if you want to survive, you take out the weakest.

And Spencer, poor poor Spencer, already burdening the weight of perfection on his shoulders and his status as an outcast fueling his desperate need for validation and need to fit in. Lets the mainland engines’ way of thinking pollute his brain. This idea of needing to take out those below you, less useful and who are a threat, infects his mind and influences his actions. He thinks he needs to get rid of those underneath him so he can continue to survive, to not jeopardize his position as private engine.

And he takes this way of thinking to Sodor. He harasses Edward and says he should be scrapped before losing to him in a race. He hunts down Hiro because he thinks he’s a piece of rusted scrap metal and nothing more. He becomes rotten. Vindictive. Vitriolic.

But…. He gets better. He gets lectured pretty harshly by the Duke and Duchess for his hunt on Hiro. And he spends more time on Sodor. And once again, he’s influenced. Because at heart, Spencer is a people pleaser. And this fact is important.

Because Spencer’s personality and morals seem to fluctuate wildly throughout the show. Sometimes he’s a great guy, if a bit snobbish, and in others he’s quite possibly the biggest asshole ever known. And here’s why I think that is. Spencer pingpongs between Sodor and the mainland. Thus his personality is influenced by whoever he is around. And to be frank, the mainland engines are massive pricks, and would 100% tell Spencer he’s too soft or insane for letting a “useless hunk of scrap iron” live. For not falling into the every man for himself mentality. And so every time he returns to Sodor he’s been conditioned to think that way because he molds into whatever people tell him to be.

And on Sodor he molds into a better person. I think that later on in the series where his personality is more solid and less horribly inconsistent, he genuinely comes into his own with the help of the Sodor engines. Knowing that he always has a place on Sodor and grows out of the mainland mindset for good

He learns. He grows. Yes he fucked up bad but he was heavily misguided and insecure about not only fitting in, but also being perfect. His mind was poisoned but it got clearer. He finally made friends and has a place he can say he belongs to.

I love Spencer, I only want the best for him.

#ttte #ttte spencer #this is not the most eloquently or well explained post but please take my 1 am ramblings.#red rambles #I love my boy. he’s got so many problems. deep down I think he’s a good person #cause at his core. he is.

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barelytolerabled · 2 years ago

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Part 06

Spencer Reid x fem!Reader

Summary: The killer's latest victim and the team's race against time to catch the murderer.

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You were glued to your computer screen, staring at the images of the latest victim. You couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt and despair as you saw the young girl's innocent face. She reminded you so much of yourself when you were that age. The killer seemed to be taunting you with each new victim, making you more determined than ever to catch them.

Dr. Spencer Reid walked into the BAU bullpen, coffee in hand. He immediately noticed the look of exhaustion and distress on your face. He made his way over to your desk and placed his hand on your shoulder.

"Hey, are you okay?" Spencer asked, his voice filled with concern.

You shook your head, "No, I'm not. I can't stop thinking about this case. It's consuming me, and I feel like I'm losing my grip on reality."

Spencer nodded, understanding the toll that the job could take on one's mental health. "Have you talked to anyone about it? Like a therapist or a support group?"

You sighed, "I don't have time for that. We need to catch this guy before he can hurt anyone else."

Spencer gave you a sympathetic smile, "I know, but taking care of yourself is just as important. Trust me, I've been there."

You looked up at him, gratitude in your eyes. "Thank you, Spencer. It means a lot coming from you."

“Of course”, he said then quickly kissed your lips.

The team gathered in the conference room to discuss the latest developments in the case. Garcia had managed to trace the killer's movements and found a possible suspect who fit the profile. You had his name, but you needed more evidence to link him to the murders.

As the team left the conference room, you stayed behind, your mind racing. You couldn't shake the feeling that you were missing something crucial, something that would lead you to the killer.

Spencer walked back into the room, noticing your distraught expression. "What's wrong?" he asked.

You shook your head, "I don't know. I feel like we're missing something important, something that could break the case wide open."

Spencer sat down next to you, "Well, let's think. What do we know about the killer so far?"

“I can’t focus on anything Spencer”

“I repeat my question”, he said softly as his hand found your thigh. “What do we know about the killer so far?"

You closed your eyes, trying to recall all the details you had gathered as you could feel Spencer’s hand going higher. "He's targeting young girls who remind him of himself or someone he knows." You could feel Spencer’s thumb drawing circles on you. "He's leaving subtle clues that only someone with a similar background would understand. He's organized and calculated, not someone who acts on impulse."

Spencer nodded, impressed with your analysis. "That's a good start, you’re doing an amazing work. What else?"

You frowned, "I don't know. It's like we're missing a piece of the puzzle, something that ties it all together. And you touching me is really not helping me concentrate Spencer"

Spencer placed his hand on your shoulder, "We'll find it, Rachel. We just have to keep looking."

"And there is some scientific evidence to suggest that touch can have a calming effect on the brain, and that it can help reduce stress and anxiety. Touch releases the hormone oxytocin, which is associated with feelings of love, trust, and social bonding, and can help reduce the levels of the stress hormone cortisol in the body. Interesting isn’t?" he said smiling at you.

As the days passed, the team worked tirelessly to gather more evidence and build a stronger case against the suspect. Your obsession with the case continued to take a toll on your mental health, causing you to withdraw from the rest of the team.

One afternoon, while the team was in the middle of a briefing, your phone rang. You quickly excused yourself from the room and answered the call.

"Hello?" you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Agent," a familiar voice said your name on the other end. It was the killer.

The killer chuckled, "I just wanted to let you know that I'm still out there, watching, waiting. And there's nothing you can do to stop me. I just wanted your attention."

Your heart raced as you tried to keep your composure. "What do you want?" you asked, your voice shaking.

The killer hung up, your breaths coming in short gasps. You tried to steady your breathing as you made your way back to the briefing room, your mind reeling with fear and anger.

As you walked in, the team noticed your distress and immediately gathered around you, asking what had happened. You took a deep breath and explained what had transpired on the phone.

Hotch's face darkened with anger, "We need to trace that call and get a location on the killer."

Garcia nodded, "I'll start working on it right away."

The team spent the next few hours tracking down the source of the call, but their efforts were in vain. The killer had covered his tracks too well, leaving no trace of his whereabouts.

You sat at your desk, your mind racing with thoughts of the killer and his twisted game. You couldn't shake the feeling that he was watching you, waiting for the right moment to strike.

Spencer walked up to you, "Hey, are you okay?"

You shook your head, "No, I'm not. I can't stop thinking about what he said, about how he's still out there."

Spencer placed his hand on your shoulder, "We'll catch him, love. We just have to keep pushing."

You looked up at him, tears in your eyes, "I don't know how much longer I can do this. It's tearing me apart."

Spencer took your hand, "I know it's hard, but we're in this together. You're not alone. You stay at my place tonight?"

You nodded, grateful for his support. You knew that you could always count on him to be there for you, no matter what.

As the day wore on, the team received a new lead on the killer's identity. It was a long shot, but they were desperate for any new information that could help them catch him.

The team worked tirelessly to gather more evidence and build a stronger case against the suspect. Your obsession with the case continued to take a toll on your mental health, causing you to withdraw from the rest of the team.

One evening, as the team was getting ready to leave for the day, Garcia called out, "Wait, I think I've found something!"

Everyone gathered around her desk as she pulled up a file on the suspect. It contained new evidence that linked him to the murders, giving the team hope for a breakthrough in the case.

Hotch looked at the team, "Let's bring him in. It's time to put an end to this."

The team rushed out of the BAU, ready to apprehend the killer and bring him to justice. You felt a sense of relief wash over you as they made their way to the suspect's location. You knew that this could be the end of a long and painful journey.

As you closed in on the suspect's hideout, you felt your heart race with anticipation. You knew that this could be a dangerous situation, but you were ready to face it head-on.

The team burst into the room, guns drawn, and apprehended the suspect without incident. You breathed a sigh of relief as you watched him being led away in handcuffs.

As you walked out of the building, Spencer placed his hand in yours, "We did it. We caught him."

You smiled weakly, "Yeah, we did."

The team gathered around them, congratulating them on a job well done. You felt a sense of closure wash over you as you looked at the faces of your colleagues.

You knew that this case had changed you in ways you never thought possible, but you were grateful for the experience. It had brought you closer to Spencer and the rest of the team, and it had given you a renewed sense of purpose.

As you made your way back to the BAU, Spencer walked beside you. "You did a great job," he said.

You smiled at him, "Thanks, Spencer. I couldn't have done it without you."

Spencer looked at you, "I just wanted to ask you if you would agree on going on a date with me? Now that everything is over?"

"I’d love to Spence"

But just as you were about to celebrate, your phone rang. You hesitated before answering, but your intuition told you to take the call.

"Hello?" you said, your voice shaking.

"Hello again Agent, I hope you're proud of yourselves for catching the wrong guy," the voice on the other end of the line taunted.

Your heart sank as you realized the implications of the call. You had been so focused on building a case against the suspect that you had missed crucial evidence that would have led you to the actual killer.

You knew that you needed to act quickly to find the real killer before he could strike again. You turned to the team, "We got the wrong guy. The real killer is still out there."

The team sprang into action, but you could feel the weight of your mistake weighing heavily on you. You had let your obsession with the case blind you to the truth, and now innocent lives were at risk.

As you raced against the clock to find the real killer, you couldn't help but feel like you had let everyone down. Spencer tried to reassure you, telling you that you would find the killer and make things right.

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

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mt-musings · 2 years ago

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Bluebell

Chapter 16

After being abruptly transferred to the BAU at what she suspects was Gideon's request, Cassie Boann struggles to find her footing. Shy and solitary by nature, the transition is made all the more difficult when Dr. Spencer Reid seems to take an almost immediate dislike to her. Unfortunately for them both, their respective areas of expertise leave them paired off more often than not. But when Cassie's past literally starts hunting her, Spencer is forced to consider that he might, in fact, not hate her at all.

Quite the opposite, actually.

Spencer Reid x OC

Warnings: Canon typical violence, kidnapping, stalking, drug use, blood, injury, death, PTSD, eventual smut, more tags to be added

Series Masterlist

Read on AO3

16. She Will Always be a Broken Girl

Spencer dialed her number again, once more getting up from his couch to pace. He should have insisted he walk her home or that she stay with him or something. She’d been in no state to walk home, no state to be left to her own devices.

He swore as it went straight to voicemail again and hung up, dropping back down to the couch.

Her pain had been so raw, so sudden. However tumultuous his relationship with his own mother—he couldn’t imagine the hole left by her loss. The enormity of grief left in the wake of a loss like that—and Cassie was young, hardly older than he was. At least, he thought she was.

He didn’t even know how old she was.

He dialed again, even though he’d resigned himself to waiting for her voicemail. He just wanted to make sure she was okay, the same he’d do for JJ or Derek.

But it wasn’t the same as JJ or Derek.

Perhaps it might’ve been, with JJ, but she’d never shown the same sort of interest he’d had in her, nor the sort of interest Cassie showed him. And yet, he still knew nothing about her.

Not nothing.

He knew she suffered from night terrors, that there was some trauma in her past that had left her scarred. That she’d attended two different medical schools for her Master’s degrees, that the Smithsonian was actively recruiting her without a PhD. That she was more of a workaholic than Hotch, that she hated driving, that she thought running a half marathon was an excellent way to start a paperwork day at the office.

And that her mother had been a Ukrainian ballerina.

Boann wasn’t a Ukrainian name. Neither was Cassandra, at least the way she spelled it. Had her family changed their names to seem more American? It wasn’t unheard of during the Cold War for ex-Soviets to want to put distance between their pasts.

He felt a rush of guilt for even thinking of the sleuthing that he’d be able to do with that information. It wouldn’t be hard for Garcia to pull up newspaper articles listing the principle dancer who’d played the Firebird in Ukrainian productions at the Warner. Wouldn’t be hard then to pull up marriage licenses, news articles, crime reports based on that information. Wouldn’t be hard to figure out what had happened to her mother, to her.

Before he’d gotten to know her, before they’d begun hanging out he wouldn’t have thought twice. It’d be simply a puzzle to be solved and tossed aside in favor of something new and unsolved.

But now—now it felt like it would be some sort of betrayal, to go digging where she clearly wanted no one to dig, using a shovel she’d trusted him with in a moment of agony. It didn’t stop him from wanting to, from drowning under the thousands of questions every new piece of information raised.

But it wasn’t as important anymore, not as important as she had become anyway.

Cassie.

His friend.

---

“Mamochka!” She screamed, her voice raw from the hours she’d spent doing the same, straining against her bindings. Her father had gone still an hour or so before, though by the grace of his shallow, ragged breathing she knew he still lived. She could scarcely see his face under all the blood.

The man hadn’t hit her mother—not really. He’d slapped her around but nothing like the sadism he displayed towards her or her dad.

Cassie was glad—her mother had always been so beautiful. It would be such a shame for her face to be broken and beaten like theirs. It was crime enough to see it swollen and slicked with tears.

The man had gone somewhere—she didn’t know if he’d left the house or simply moved out of sight. It had been a long time, but not long enough that she’d been able to tame her feral panic, that she’d stopped fighting her bonds, fighting to scoot closer to her parents whom he’d set opposite her.

So they’d have to watch every punch, every cigarette, every slice with that gleaming gold-plated pen knife.

“Mama—mama I’m scared.”

“I know, my darling, I know. It’s going to be okay, I promise, I promise—“

But it wasn’t okay. It never was.

Cassie sat straight up in bed, trembling uncontrollably. She hadn’t heard her mother’s voice that clearly in years, not in any way that wasn’t a muffled, unintelligible scream.

She sprinted to her bathroom, knocking over a stack of books in her haste to make it to the toilet in time to heave up last night’s meal. She fumbled for the shower, turning on the cold water so she could half-fall into the tub, pressing her face between her knees as she tried to fight the flashbacks.

““Distal, middle, proximal, metacarpal, trapezium, trapezoid, capitate, hamate, triquetral, pisiform, lunate, scaphoid, radius, ulna,” she repeated to herself, tracing the bones as she said their names. Always on the left hand, always on the one he’d shattered to prove his point—

She dug her fingernails into the flesh of her forearm, letting the split second of sharp pain ground her before she could get lost down that train of thought. She groaned, resting her head against the cold tile as she forced her breathing to steady, her heart to slow.

She only sat up when her shivering became a byproduct of the frigid water, rather than her nightmare.

She leaned over to adjust the tap without bothering to get up, shucking off her sopping wet sweater and tossing it out of the tub. She waited for the water to warm before she stood and removed the rest of her clothing, reaching for her shampoo.

She wondered what time it was, whether she’d managed to get five hours of sleep before she’d been ripped from her bed by the past. She sat on the lip of the tub as her conditioner sat, staring at the tile rather than closing her eyes and risking that the blackness would fade into yet another memory.

Maybe she should consider taking the sleeping pills again.

She rinsed out her hair and stepped out of the shower, wrapping a worn towel around herself as she rooted around in the bottom cabinet of the sink for her hair dryer before remembering that it had broken three weeks ago and she’d still yet to replace it.

Fuck.

She’d just have to deal with wet hair on the Metro, then.

She’d long ago given up any pretension of going back to sleep after one of her bouts. Between the surge of adrenaline and the freezing water it most often took to break her out of it—she wasn’t sure she even could sleep after if she wanted to.

She got ready in a daze, setting the coffee maker to brew an extra strong pot as she got dressed for the day. She glanced at her bed as she pulled on slacks and a cardigan, taking in the rumpled sheets, the wool scarf that still lay folded on the opposite pillow.

Spencer had hugged her last night.

She turned abruptly away as the coffee maker beeped, setting her overlarge travel tumbler on the table in front of Chuck, who’s tequila had been traded out for a bottle of Horilka she’d found in a bodega after their last case.

She paused in front of the skeleton, surveying it a moment before turning the baseball hat to sit backwards on its head, the action drawing the smallest of smiles to her lips.

It hadn’t been that long ago that she spoke to Chuck more than anyone else outside of work hours—the plastic anatomical model that she’d bought on a whim.

How long had it been since she’d allowed herself to admit that she enjoyed the company of others?

She emptied the pot into her tumbler and checked her bag to make sure she had all the files she’d taken from the office, along with both laptops. At least she’d be able to get some work done on her parent’s case before the team filtered in.

She pulled her phone out of her pocket as she locked her front door. It was only 3:23 in the morning, which wasn’t all that out of the ordinary, but the six missed calls from Spencer were.

“Hey, it’s Spencer, I just wanted to make sure you got home safe.”

“Hey, it’s me again, you probably just went to bed but just wanted to know you got home all right.”

She let it play once more before firing off a quick text—she knew Spencer hated texting but she was more certain he’d hate being woken up at half three in the morning.

Got home fine. Sorry, just saw these. See you at work

She jammed the phone back in her pocket before hiking her backpack further up on her shoulders and heading for the elevator.

---

Spencer spotted Cassie across the bullpen as he crossed to his desk, shoulders hunched as she poured over a set of files. She didn’t look up as he set his bag down, eyes flickering to her face to note the deep shadows under her eyes.

“You know, sleep deprivation mimics the same effects as inebriation. Staying awake for just sixteen consecutive hours is the equivalent of having a BAC of nearly .5.”

“Good morning to you too, Genius. What else have you got from the World Health Organization for me?” She raised a brow, the hint of a sardonic smile curving her lips.

“I mean, there are the consensuses drawn from the last Summit in Beijing back in August, but I have a feeling you’re being sarcastic.”

“This is why you make the big bucks, Doc.” She snorted, turning back to her computer as he met her smile with his own. He spent a moment unloading a stack of files from his messenger bag, using the time to figure out exactly how he wanted to bring up the previous night.

It wasn’t as if Cassie was open in the best of times and she’d been unnecessarily mortified by her outburst. He just—he didn’t want her to feel as though she was alone in her grief.

“Hey Spence, can you take a look at this for me?”

He crossed to her desk and she tilted her screen so he could see the screen. It showed a set of photographs of individual vertebrae set next to various graphs.

“Are those spectrometer results ?”

“From the bone and marrow. I was hoping to find a way to map a geographic profile from the variations in chemical compositions, but I don’t think there’s a data base to work from as far as references. But there are groupings of similar chemical compositions between multiple individuals, which I would wager means they spent significant time in the same area, right?”

“There definitely seems to be a trend, but I’m not sure there’s enough data to definitely correlate individuals to a specific geographic location.”

Cassie seemed to deflate a bit. “What else would you need for a definitive geographic profile?”

“From purely skeletal remains? The likelihood of narrowing down the area to a workable radius is slim to none.”

“What if you stepped away from the chemical profile and looked at genetic panels? Are there geographically relevant genetic sequences that could be used to determine location?”

“Maybe, but with our current working model of the genome it would be nearly impossible to identify anything with any certainty.”

Cassie swore, tossing her glasses across the desk and dropping her head in her hands.

“What case is this for? Maybe there’s something else we can use to make the profile.”

“It’s just a cold case, I thought maybe it might be a way to break it open. If I could tie the remains to where they lived I might be able to match them to open missing persons cases.”

“Theoretically that all checks out, but I don’t think we have the technology available to make it happen.”

“Yeah. Maybe someone at the Smithsonian might have some insight into practical application.”

He watched her shoulders slump as she exited out of the tabs. “If you wanted I could take a look at the files. Maybe fresh eyes would help?”

“Yeah, maybe. I’m running out of stones to turn. I just—for the amount of forensics available I can’t seem to catch a break.”

“That’s the problem with a lot of cold cases. Nationally they have a clearance rate of close to 58%, but that depends of a wealth of factors including forensic evidence available, man power, and interest. A lot of cases just fall by the wayside as more pile in.”

“I just—I just wish I could find something other than another dead end.”

“A lot of investigators end up becoming attached to certain cold cases—“

Cassie laughed, the sound hollow and humorless. “I wonder why.”

Spencer furrowed his brow, watching the dejected way she tilted back her screen, opening another case file, another set of grisly photos, another coroner’s report.

“Are you okay, Cass?”

She didn’t look up, her voice flat. “I’m fine.”

“I’m serious, I mean, after last night—“

“Forget about last night, Spencer. I—I just had too much to drink and got a little weepy. Happens to the best of us.”

“Cassie, it’s okay to be sad about your mom—“

“It won’t change anything, just drop it.”

Spencer hesitated, biting the inside of his cheek. “My mom has schizophrenia. She’s at a residential mental hospital. She forgets things, forgets me sometimes. And I know it’s the disease, I know it’s not her but it hurts so badly sometimes the I feel like I can’t even take a breath. And I know—I know it’s not even remotely the same thing, but I have an idea of what it’s like to miss your mom and—I’m just trying to say I’m sorry. I’m here, if you ever want to talk.”

Cassie didn’t say anything for a long time, her eyes fixed in her lap. Then she turned to the sticker-covered laptop in her desk and began combing through files. Spencer was just about to slink back to his desk when she tilted the screen up so he could see.

It was an old photo of a man and woman sitting in a park. The man had black hair and a thick mustache, his face sharp and angular. The woman had golden blonde hair pulled into a thick ponytail and delicate features, her eyes a vivid green even in the faded photograph.

“My mother and father.”

“You look just like them.”

Cassie didn’t say anything, instead just tracing over the photo with her cursor. Spencer hesitated a few more moments before he returned to his seat, eyes flicking up to Cassie across the divider every so often as she worked. Her eyes remained downcast, shoulders slumped, but the was something—something he couldn’t quite place—that had shifted.

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#spencer reid x oc #spencer reid #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #multichapter #mutual pining #slow burn

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violenthunted · 1 year ago

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profilers are good at lying, yet it seems that whatever talent they all possess in order to spew realistic phantasmagorias vanishes whenever they attempt to use it against one another. spencer is not a great liar to begin with, and he is bad at realizing people are leading him on, but there is no doubt that juno's realization is an honest one. it unfolds in her eyes, horror & wonder, all at once. you left, she murmurs, doubt now a worm at the center of her apple, ruining the image she had drawnfor herself ; and how sad, that she thought he would not come back. for once, it seemed that the girl had let her fearful heart talk louder than her mind. "i was -- i mean, i didn't want you to think it was just one night -- i wanted to get -- flowers, food -- couldn't choose which kinds --" usual stammer of uncertitude that ends itself with a simple, somewhat imperfect, "i was coming back." professed with an assurance that he only resorts to when he knows that he holds the truth.

and the truth, of course, is this : when she puts her hands on his face & draws him to her, eurydice's steps blending into orpheus', he follows blindly. there are not many things he is sure of in this life, for all laws tend to break themselves on the edges of experience, but this, he has seen happen again & again. wherever she leads, he goes. yes, eyes closed & slightly terrified. yes, unsure of whether she is planning on punishing him some more or not. but still, he goes. it is juno, after all, and juno he trusts with his whole life. up until a few days ago he would have given everything to her without fear of abuse, misuse or excess.

so when she demands that he steps close, he does. and when their lips to meet, he isn't afraid of teeth : he knows it will be a kiss that creates light.

his arms close around her waist in a tight hold that doesn't allow for hesitation. if one were to look at that scene, there would be no wondering & no equivocation. "juno," he murmurs between kisses, tries her name for a moment and finds that while it sounds how he wants it to, it is not heavy enough to make her understand, so he tries again, "are you sure? because you left, and i said all these things and you still left, and i can't -- you need to know -- it's you, i want all of you." then, a breath, a gulp of air, and he takes a moment to make sure she's looking at him, no more kisses to be exchanged and wandering touches, except for the way he holds her above water and the way she keeps him close, how they fit like jigsaw puzzle pieces. if the whole world is one confusing picture, they make their own little space. they fit into each other and with each other in ways they don't with anyone else.

after a moment of quiet, a small smile on his lips that has yet to blossom fully because he is still uncertain of whether she'll let the dream unfold or if she'll kill it twice. he wouldn't put it past her to run away again. he knows juno : sometimes she gets so scared of what's possible she finds herself ruining it by running in the other direction. easier to scream of absence than destruction. he tries again, "juno suarez." it's important that she's named, that she understands he's talking to her and her alone, that it's unique & deeply flawed, and still theirs. that there is no doubt whatsoever, "will you be my girlfriend?" and yes it's stupid, it's absolutely childish, and cheesy, but apparently they need it, and spencer is secretly thrilled : he never got to ask before. never got to have one either, if he's honest.

𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐩𝐮𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐬, 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 a dramatic child who’d spent a second too long underwater. so grateful he’d been there when he had because nothing is more embarrassing than drowning in front of someone she certainly … pathetically admires. someone who, even though had left her in the early morning completely heartbroken, she would still sink her fingers into. partly because of how much she felt about her colleague, but also a way to take out her annoyance. someone who juno willingly accepts into her orbit, to touch, and hold her without so much as a flinch in response. because surely, anyone else disrespecting her boundaries would be left with broken fingers.

“ you have jokes now? ” unamused, and what else could she be when she had put in such effort to … well, appear all together and unphased by his absence. truth was, he wasn’t the first man, the first person, to leave. no, of course not. second, there were many people she had been more than happy to participate in a single affair, but time had changed her. the bau had changed her. this family she’d never asked for, always wanted, and finally could hold in her hands had changed her. these things may have happened without a bat of an eyelash, but this was spencer. she neither expected nor wanted this from him. there must have been some miscommunication along the way ( it was hard to tell, there were rarely any words spoken that night which were intelligible ).

for a moment, there is quiet and the company of chlorine sloshing against royal blue walls. when he is undeniably gorgeous. when she thinks he’s looking past her outside self and able to, with his intellect, reach deeper. past the surface. then, spencer is visibly upset and juno’s body stiffens, at alert. like a gun has been blown off in the distance. before she can enunciate her words, he has his own: you left. her mind knows which moment to guide her to.

“ what? ” it leaves her, in one syllable and completely stunned. yet, she does not let him go. cannot let him get away so easily. “ what are you talking about? you’re the one who . . . in the morning . . . ” speaking her thoughts from that day strike some cruel realization. it brings pieces together, a tiny puzzle lying flat on her chest. “ you left. ” a tap of doubt lying somewhere in there because, had he? he returned, with a bouquet and sweets—although, at such an inconvenient time juno could not have inferred they were for . . . oh.

she cannot find words that would be useful to say in this moment. she lads on, i’m such an idiot or you’re such an idiot and even, why would i ever leave you? her person, one thing she knew she could count on, to just look at and know . . . as naive as a thought it may be: whatever problem at hand could not be so bad. it wasn’t the end of the world. juno who is always ready to speak her mind, cannot fathom his reaction if she does so, right now. and, perhaps doing is louder than saying; there isn’t much time for her to rethink, holding his face and for another time, meeting spencer with an insatiable kiss. an interpretable kiss, one that can say: i’m sorry, i need you, i want you, i love you. maybe his countless expertise and autodidactic skills will be able to pick this apart.

now, that part of this desire has been met, juno finds the strength to keep her above his waist. above surface tension, where there was enough potential energy to keep her occupied. pondering on theory. testing courage. “ i wasn’t just saying it. i meant it, when i said it. when i said: it’s you. ” this is already so terrible, she thinks. so much literature kept away in her brain and yet, not a single space of talent found in this body. “ i want you. not just, physically . . . fuck, please tell me you understand what i’m saying. ”

#suarcz #spencer reid.#writings.#fixing cm one post at a time

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staplernpaper · 3 years ago

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Fic Library/Rec (Spencer x Reader)

Yesterday, I was trying to find a certain fic, so I scrolled through my likes and reblogs. Now I f-ing understand why reblogging is important. Anyways, I thought I might as well compile them in now post. Now, I may have placed some fics under the wrong category as I haven't read some of these some quite some time. Furthermore, the categorization may not make sense to you but it does to me, so you have been warned.

All summaries below are the ones written by their respective author

Spencer being an Uncle

Save The Princess @wtsmyfixation

Summary: When Spencer and Reader fight over who gets to babysit Henry the last thing they expect is what will happen when they BOTH do.

babysitter @stxrrywildflower

Summary: the moment spencer realizes he’s wants to start a family with you

The Best Pair @reidingmelodies

Dad spencer

BABY DELIVERY DAY! - SPENCER @jpegjade

Every Way That Counts @dontshootmespence

A/N: A request from @thatbisexualhufflepuff for a Spencer x Reader where the reader also works for the BAU and is expecting a baby with her boyfriend, who doesn’t work for the team. He ups and leaves after realizing he’s a douchebag and Spencer helps her through everything, changing their relationship in the process.

Braids and Books @ofstarsandvibranium

Summary: Spencer decides to spend his day off with you and your daughter.

Dreams and Chess Pieces @mxchellesworld

Synopsis; In which baby fever is clouding Spencer’s mind and taken over his dreams

Family Support @unlikelyempathpruneauthor

A/N: Okay so you know how in season 7 episode 11 Reid was at the convention talking and like no one was really interacting with him there beside that one dude. I felt really bad cus he looked really sad that prentiss and that other lady were getting attention….sooooooo what if like reader surprised him by bringing along their kids. sorry this might be bad lol, no one really requested it I just thought of it. so enjoy!

ethan(spencer reid/fem!reader) @reidgraygubler

Summary: reader has some really important news to share with spencer, but he’s away on a case. that is until really important news is shared with her.

Baby 101 Milestones @bellatriestowritesometimes

A Little Early - Part 1 @reid-fiction

BLESSING IN DISGUISE [SPENCER REID X READER] @eideticsreid

baby’s favorite @wheelsup

Puzzle @uncpanda

Prompt: Hi! Can I request a Spencer Reid x Reader fic where they are living together and while Spence is away on a case, the reader finds out she’s pregnant? So she gets him like a lil onsie that says “My Daddy is a Genius” or something like that to give Spencer to tell him he’s gonna be a dad? And he gets back, she tells him, and just lots and lots of fluff??

Physics Magic (dad!spencer)

summary: reader gets caught in the cross fire of yet another physics magic lesson

Reader & Spencer gets into an argument/Break up/ Close to breaking up/ This made me cry

Actions Speak Louder @potter-swan

Summary: Spencer becomes addicted to Dilaudid, and Y/N does what she can to help him - even if it takes him longer to realize how good she’s been to him.

Not Enough @twodirtymindedgirls

Requested: no, just my imagination and I ;). spencer feels insecure with himself, so he decides to break up with the reader because he thinks she’s to much for him. (astonish final;) )

THIS IS ME TRYING | Spencer Reid @fczco

This is based on the song “this is me trying” by Taylor Swift. Sorry for any mistakes that you could find, english is not my first language :)

Amnesia @hotchsbabygirl

casual sabotage @hercleverboy

spencer and the reader are falling apart. is their love enough to pull them back together?

the family dinner @reidrco

Breaking Vows @alisonsfics

Request: Y/N and Spencer are married, but jealousy, cheating, and pregnancy keep trying to keep them apart. A very angst request. I just want to clarify that neither I nor the person who requested this hate JJ, it’s purely for plot.

Just Tonight @scootz-writ

Don’t Let Me Go @spencexreidimagine

Request; Can you write an imagine where Spencer and the reader get in a fight before a case and the whole time Spencer is being passive aggressive with her until she ends up seriously hurt and he thinks she’s going to die before they got to make up? I LOOOOVE YOUR WRITING BTW ❤❤❤❤❤

They were Exes then got back together

Things Past @imaginingcriminalminds

Prompt: based on this imagine/drabble request: Could you possibly do a one shot of Reid/reader where they used to date (the team never knew about the two of you) and you had a bad breakup. Then a couple of years later the reader is called in to consult on a case the BAU has and it’s clear Reid still has feelings for her.

They have a crush on each other/ Pre-lovers/Confession

Spencer Reid x Reader | Canned Intentions @lgbtbau

(Summary: After what is possibly the most disastrous meet-cute in history, Spencer learns that possessing the typical tenements of masculinity is not the only way to attract a mate, 5.3k+ words, no warnings other than swearing and that this story does not accurately reflect how DC traffic works)

aphrodite and her son cupid (spencer reid x f.reader) @vanillann

No Funny Business @imaginingcriminalminds

Prompt/Summary: Filling anonymous drabble request to ICM about sharing a hotel room with Reid and Morgan.

Raging Sapiosexual (Spencer Reid) @perverted-guardian-angel

Summary: Reader goes on a rant about how beautiful Spencer Reid is and he may or may not hears it 😉

Overwhelming @brywrites

Requested: Spencer Reid x Reader, where Reid is on the Autism spectrum. It’s painfully obvious how much he likes her, but when she asks him out, he begins to panic.

blurb

Expectations vs. Reality @idmakeitbehave

Summary: Spencer’s finally going to tell you how he feels. He really, really is. He just… he needs it to be perfect.

Notice @highkeygolden

Summary; after a taxing case, Y/N questions her personality and Spencer looks back to when reader was still in training, then confessing to Derek Morgan his true feelings for Y/N.

I Think He Knows @alltooreid

Y/N has a huge crush on Spencer Reid, so huge she embarrasses herself every time she tries to talk to him. She is convinced he is aware to all her pathetic attempts at flirting and just chooses to ignore it, but turns out Spencer may be a little more clueless than she thought.

Fact Check @gubler-me-up

Request: I love all Reid don’t get me wrong but there’s just something about early seasons awkward soft and shy Reid that’s just too perfect! I love the idea of the reader always asking later on in the day if he could finish the fact ramble someone cut him off on as they were finding it interesting and him just beaming. Or him being self conscious about being lanky or smth and reader confesses how attracted they are to him and he just smiles so big and confesses right back

the struggle bus @halloweenhoneylover

summary: spencer is the kindest human alive, which makes things tough for the reader :/ (spencer reid x fem!reader)

Spencer Reid x Reader | Cool Anymore @love-war-death-reid

(Summary: Spencer worries that his maybe flirtationship with the Reader is in danger because of his perceived social inadequacies, 4k+ word count, probably a Teen rating for vaguely sexual content, enjoy <3)

Spencer gets flustered

Tease •Spencer Reid x Reader• @vodkaxtonic

Summary: There is just something real funny about making Spencer flustered with teasing comments and Y/N takes full advantage of it. However, it backfires like a bitch.

Are You Trying To Kill Pretty Boy? @cm-fandom-imagines

Lip-Reiding @b-o-s-t-o-n

Prompt: ima sucker for the team teasing reid& him embarrassed blushing its everything so anythn with them teasing reid is rad but a imagineidea is like he and the reader has a wildnight and he comes in late to work with hickeyseverywhere &sex hair &the team immediately catch on and basically tease him SO hard for weeks even going as far to like imitate him in bed and rossi hotch n morgan make so much fun especially & jj, emily and garcia are giggling like crazy and spence is a blushing schoolboy MESS💖

Imagine falling asleep on Spencer’s lap, which gives him a boner. @imaginingcriminalminds

Reader meets Diana

Baby Pictures @spencessmile

Summary - You and Diana look through Spencer’s baby pictures.

Case fic (usually the ones that involve reader going back home)

Composed of the Elements @a-simple-gaywitch

Summary: When a case takes the team to (Y/N)’s home town, her best friend Spencer helps her leave all the baggage behind.

Echo @reidsmemory

Summary: Y/N is abducted while working a case and the team has to find her before it’s too late.

Where it all started @lils-writes-stuff

Summary: while on a case, a little to close to home, reader and Spencer discover some feeling that they’ve developed for each other over time.

Here To Help - Spencer Reid @spnislife-com

Summary: A case hit home for one of the BAU team but none of the others know why or how to help

PIECE OF ADVICE @multi-fandoms-unite

Summary: While on a case, Spencer wants some advice on how to ask Reader out

Reader and derek gets injured during a case

hypothermia @stxrrywildflower

summary - you and derek go to extreme lengths to save a victim

This one made me laugh, BAU shenanigan

Here, Have A Chocolate @madswonders

A/N: Wanted to write a blurb about that scene in Community where the girls find out that Abed has been charting their menstrual cycles except with Spencer and the BAU women.

private display of affection @poguesofthebau

summary: garcia wants to see pda, because she’s garcia, and she loves love. you and spencer, however, don’t tend to give her much pda to admire. so the rest of the team sets out to catch you two acting as in love as they know you are.

Baby Fever (Spencer Reid x Reader) @recollins

Request: Do u mind doing a fic where people from the teamc sees Spencer shopping for baby items (clothes, toys, etc) during different days and one time sees him shopping with his secret gf that they didnt know about and immediately jump to conclusions thinking they’re having a baby but in reality the reader’s sister is the one thats pregnant hahaha thanks and i love your stories!

Jumping to Conclusions @dontshootmespence

A/N: a Spencer x Reader where they are having some fun and totally ignore that the BAU is calling him in for a case, so Hotch sends someone (I picked Morgan and JJ) to go see if something is wrong with him and are surprised to find out he’s got a girlfriend

Birthday Bewilderment • Spencer Reid @living-in-a-constant-daydream

request: Yello! Can I I request a spencer fic where they go to throw y/n a surprise party bc shes been feeling really down after cases and when she walks in she accidently punches Derek bc she got scared of them yelling surprise

Domestic Stuff/ Fic that make my heart go Doki Doki

Our own little island @lucywritesreid

Summary: Spencer and Y/N Have been living in their own private bubble during lockdown. YN has discovered a game and initially Spencer shows no interest…

Culinary Chaos @peachpitfics

Summary: Spencer meets your Parents and invites them for dinner at his apartment, knowing full well he can’t cook. Even with your help, he still manages to ruin dinner. Luckily, Dad’s got him covered.

Kitchen Catastrophes @fandom-monium.tumblr

Summary: In which Spencer isn’t the greatest cook, and you’re really good with knives? “How do you mess up pasta?”

botanical heaven @reidsnose

overview: reader gifts spencer a desk plant that he simply cannot keep alive

49% @samuel-de-champagne-problems

Summary: If there’s one thing that Spencer hates more than rejection, it’s spontaneity. But sometimes the things (and people) we love outweigh the things that we hate. AKA a series of events leading up to a weekend wedding between the BAU’s finest Dr. Spencer Reid and his partner in crime, Y/N.

Spencer proposes

A Little Convincing @parkerslatte

Summary: Derek tries to convince Spencer to propose to Y/N but Spencer isn’t sure she wants to get married.

NOT IN THE SILVERWARE DRAWER @leossmoonn

summary - while spencer cooks for you, you find a little black box that he has been hiding in your silverware drawer

spoiled engagements || spencer reid

summary: Penelope spoils a secrets causing Spencer to make proposing a game

Secret dating

The Most Important People @imaginingcriminalminds

Prompt/Summary: Based off this imagine (http://imaginingcriminalminds.tumblr.com/post/146315270115/imaginingcriminalminds-please-do-not-reblog-to). Imagine being a part of the BAU, secretly dating Reid, when you discover that you’re Rossi’s daughter.

Nervous @the-bau-quinjet

Summary: Reader is arrested by the BAU! Little do they know, she is dating the one agent who is currently on medical leave…

Spencer’s Not So Little Secret @spencerreidslove

A/N Lots of fuffy goodness where the team shows up at Spencer’s apartment and find out he has a girlfriend

Spencer’s Not-So-Little Secret @dontshootmespence

A/N: A request for a Spencer x Reader where it’s his birthday and the team goes to his apartment to figure out what books he doesn’t have (for gift giving purposes); while there they stumble on the reader sleeping in Spencer’s bed. Eventually, all of them meet up at the party, but Spencer and the reader are unaware that the team already knows about her.

Taking care of each other

A Sleeping Beauty - Pt. 1 @imaginingcriminalminds

Prompt/Summary: there wasn’t actually a prompt, people were requesting fluff so I thought I’d try to provide – Spencer has to get his tonsils removed and you’re there to take care of him.

A Little Goes a Long Way (Part 1) @maruwrites

you like me (spencer reid x reader) @newyorkpenny

summary: you unfortunately run out of tampons and theres only one person who can bring you some

One of a kind

Yours, Mine, and Ours @reidscanehand

THE SINS OF A FATHER @loreenswriting

Summary: At your father’s funeral, The team is met with the life you left behind. And you are met with the man who would change your life for the better.

BAIT & SWITCH

Plot: Reader reveals that they’re going to buy a Nintendo Switch so Spencer invites them to go together with him. In the process, some feelings reveal themselves.

MARRY ME? — SPENCER REID | CH.1

My Date with the President’s Daughter @writing-in-april

Summary: Spencer has a date with the President’s daughter, who he’s been dating for a while in partial secret. He hasn’t seen her in person for a while so he’s had to settle for another form of communication.

gun safety training {s.r.} @darkpeterparker

summary: after being shot in front of your house, you are left to deal with the aftermath.

BTW this ^^ was the fic that a spent hours trying to look for

multi-series (got three or more parts)

all bets are off (spencer x reader) @twink-appreciation-posts

An agent of the BAU is exactly the unsub’s type. Pretty convenient, right? Well, turns out she’s exactly Dr. Spencer Reid’s type as well. All it took for him to admit it was a bit of… performative seduction.

Five Minutes @mollygetssherlockcoffee

out of the old masterlist @stxrrywildflower

you consider leaving the bau, spencer and the team do everything to convince you to stay

Best Years Master list (season 1) @lils-writes-stuff

Like Real People Do Masterlist @write-orflight

Summary: Reader is starting the job she’s been planning towards her entire life, becoming a profiler for the BAU. But what she didn’t plan on was falling head over heels in love with her genius co-worker or her terrible secret coming to light.

With Heaven Above You @lucywritesreid

Summary: A particular case has got the BAU stumped. They’re all working overtime to try and catch the killer. But something happens along the way, and y/n is the only one who can solve the case in time…

You Gotta Be Kidding Me (Rewrite): MASTERLIST! & “You Gotta Be Kidding Me” Complete Masterlist @give-me-a-moose

Y/N York was once Y/N Winchester. She decided to leave the hunting world and has lived a rather happy life. Getting her PhD, getting her dream job, and starting a relationship with Dr. Spencer Reid, who is an FBI agent. However, when Spencer’s coworkers look into her past, maybe it’s time for her to tell Spencer about the supernatural. Will the man of science and logic be able to believe her?

MGG

unconventional presents @dr-spencer-reids-queen

Summary: Matthew has been saving the screw he had in his knee for a very special girl, and he thinks he’s found the one.library

#spencer x reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid imagine #masterlist #fic recommendation #criminal minds imagine

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whosscruffylooking · 4 years ago

Text

The Purest Things- Repeating History

Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: Brief mentions of murder and alcohol. Canon typical violence.

A/N: this takes place during season 3 episode 11, birthright. i had a lot of fun studying this episode and making it my own. i have changed certain dialogue and who says what for the sake of the story. please enjoy!

The Purest Things Masterlist

(my gif! please credit if you use.)

january 2008

Syd Moore said, “Disregard for the past will never do us any good. Without it we cannot know truly who we are.”

+++++

Your alarm is often hushed before it even has an opportunity to set off nowadays because you usually wake up before it even has the chance.

4:25 A.M.

You groan and toss your pillow over your face. Maybe, just maybe, you can will yourself to sleep for a little longer. As if someone heard your pleas for slumber, your phone starts buzzing on your bedside table. Of course, it is unnecessary for you even to read the messages. There is a case.

+++++

"Last night in Fredericksburg, a 20-year-old woman, Molly McCarthy, was abducted," J.J. begins, "She's the third to go missing in the last 6 weeks. All disappeared from public places. No one's seen them since until now. A couple days ago, body parts with cigarette burns were recovered from a national park that was once the site of the battle of Chancellorsville."

"Were they able to make an I.D.?" you and Hotch ask simultaneously. Your eyes meet, but he breaks the contact abruptly. Flustered and insecure, you bury your focus deep into the file in front of you. The group discusses the case for a couple of minutes, but you are so concentrated on the papers that you hardly absorb any information they've shared.

There is something familiar about this case to you. Suddenly, realization strikes.

Rejoining the discussions, you say, "I remember reading about a case like this in Spotsylvania county. Similar markings on the bone. It was the winter of 1980, also in Fredericksburg. There were 5 women aged 16 to 24. They were buried in pieces."

"Same markings. Same civil war battlefield," J.J. responds in agreement.

The team agrees that this could be the works of the same killer. There are aspects of the more recent killings that would be impossible to copycat since those details had never been released to the public. But, if this is the same unsub, what's he been doing for the past 27 years?

+++++

Hotch focuses on the road while you watch out the window of the passenger seat. Occasionally, you sneak the odd peek at him. His stoicism is alluring, and you find yourself drawn to this demeanor like a moth to a flame. Piecing together the tiny glimpses you've collected thus far as if working on a mental puzzle, you scrutinize his attributes. His eyes bare the beginnings of crow's feet. Only his sideburns tease the speckling of salt and pepper undertones. His lips turn downwards at the corners, no doubt from years of scowling at unsubs.

Reid speaks up from behind you both and breaks your train of thought. Probably for the better, there's no reason why you should examine your unit chief so intently.

"It's funny--he always dumps the bodies in this battlefield, no matter what the risk."

"It's a respected landmark. He's flaunting," Aaron reckons.

"It makes him feel important," you say in agreement.

Once you have arrived at the crime scene, you follow Agent Hotchner closely. Reid trails ahead, most likely trying to keep up with his own train of thought.

"How does someone not see or hear them?" You ask the sheriff.

He turns to you with a defeated expression, "It was dark. He had the advantage. Molly's boyfriend was the last person to see her. He said she was alone for a minute, maybe less."

Hotch surveys the surroundings, "He's patient and works fast."

"He's perfected his M.O.," Reid states while looking around.

You cross your arms as a wave of unease gets the best of you as you envision the moments leading to Molly's attack.

"If our unsub's pushing 60, he's gotta be strong enough to carry her a long way without her struggling," you bring out.

Hotch looks to you with a concerned squint. You shake your head, signaling to him that it's nothing you can't get under control. He nods in response. The sheriff agrees to point out the various entrances to the park.

"I'll catch up with you," your Unit Chief states. He motions for you to step aside with him, and you comply.

"You know, ever since my wife and I had our son, I dread receiving cases involving children," he discloses to you.

Tears well up in your eyes, "I can't even imagine, but sir, why are you telling me this?"

"This job will inevitably strike close to home on some cases more than others. It's okay for you to feel overwhelmed by it all every once and a while," he assures you.

"You never lose it, though."

He sighs heavily, "Maybe I should have."

Shortly before you joined the BAU, Hotch's wife Haley left with their son Jack. You never ask questions or stick your nose where it doesn't belong. It isn't your place, and you can't blame him for not wanting to bring his family struggles to work. He deals with enough broken families on the job as it is. Mixing his own personal life into the field would only make it more challenging to prioritize. Despite all this, you cannot help but wonder what exactly led to his and his wife's separation. You hope that they can find their way back to each other. The crimes you investigate do not need to claim the Hotchner's as victims as well.

+++++

"I'll let you talk to Chrissy Wilkenson," Hotch directs you towards the kitchen. You wipe your sweaty palms against the fabric of your pants and make your way into the kitchen, Hotch following closely behind you.

"Mrs. Wilkenson," you say gently, "My name is Y/F/N. I have just a few questions about your husband. Where does Charlie usually go when he's stressed?"

"The barn," she stutters. You can tell she's anxious and afraid for the well-being of her family.

"Anywhere else, Chrissy?"

Hotch is called into the other room, and you continue questioning Chrissy. She's becoming overwhelmed, so you guide her to the dining room.

"I know this is difficult, Chrissy."

"Did the father of my child really do that to those poor women?" She cradles her baby bump.

Your heart breaks for her, and you choose to remain silent. Sometimes saying nothing speaks louder than words.

Footsteps bound throughout the house, and Hotch appears in the doorway, "The sheriff will stay here with Mrs. Wilkenson. We need you with us."

Standing up from your chair, you place your hand atop Chrissy's, "History doesn't have to repeat itself." It is almost as if she could tell you were reading her thoughts. The endless whispers that cloud her mind making her feel like she's left with only one choice, but there's always another option. That is all you are trying to remind her of.

+++++

As you and your team trek through the forest, you see a clearing.

"Hotch, this way," you beckon him to pursue your course.

Suddenly, a gunshot rings out, and you stop in your tracks. You make eye contact with Hotch and mirror each other's actions, dashing towards the opening in the trees. Your heart pounds in rhythm with your footsteps colliding against the ground. It is clear to you from your exchange with Chrissy at the house that the origin of the gunshot will shock everyone but yourself. As you reach the clearing and rush down the hill, your speculation is validated.

Chrissy Wilkenson is standing over the body of her husband, the unsub. A traumatized young man haunted by his father's past and plagued by the idea that children are trapped in the endless cycles created by their parents.

I guess the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. Jesus. Now is not the time for that.

The newly widowed woman claims self-defense, yet the cops handcuff her anyways. Inside, you feel conflicted while watching her get into the back of the squad car.

Hotch appears by your side but remains silent. Again, sometimes silence speaks louder than words. You bit your lip, attempting to hide the fact that it is trembling.

"What did you say to her as you were leaving the dining room?"

"I told her that history does not have to repeat itself. I wanted her to know that even when it feels like you are backed into a corner, there is always another way out. Sometimes people don't know where to look for their out thought," you quiver.

He lightly touches your arm and gives you a reassuring tilt of the head, "Just know that you did everything you could. We will never do this job perfectly. Doing the right thing usually costs more than it pays. You did your part. I'm not a saint, and I am far from a hero, but I have integrity and honor, and I do this job to the best of my ability."

"If you can leave a case with a clear conscience," he continues, "you know you did the best you could. Any other thought process will eat away at you slowly but surely, and ultimately, it will result in the demise of your career and destruction of yourself."

+++++

After a seemingly neverending day, you all arrive back at Quantico.

"I could really go for a drink, guys. What do you say? Newbie's buying," you wave your wallet around frivolously.

"I could go for 5 drinks!" Prentiss exclaims.

"Count me in," Morgan winks at you. He never fails to make you blush.

Reid hesitates and you pout your bottom lip, "Please Reid! How could you not want a repeat of Dolly Parton night last month?"

Hotch comes down the stairs, "Dolly Parton night? Do I want to know?"

You and Derek snicker to each other as Spencer attempts to diffuse his own embarassment.

"9 to 5 is an iconic female anthem that certainly has a rather bewitching affect on a man when mixed with alcohol."

"You only drank Diet Coke that night," you roll your eyes at him.

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Hotch forcing his way through the small group formed around the desks.

Making your way over to him, you invite him to join, "Want a beer?" You second guess yourself, but it seems as though his rather stern expression softens ever so slightly when he pivots on his heels to look at you.

"I would like that," he answers softly.

He immediately returns to his original path and hovers near the glass doors. You casually make your way over to him, joined by Dave and Emily. A man barges in through the glass doors announcing Aaron's name.

"Agent Hotchner?"

"Yes," the subject in question breaths out almost defeatedly.

The yellow package he holds in his hands is all too familiar and instantly churns your stomach into knots. You gnaw at your bottom lip, drawing a metallic taste that causes you to cringe.

"What is it?" Emily speaks up.

There's no question as to what it is. Oh Hotch. I’m so sorry.

Hotch's eyes trace the package from corner to corner in disbelief, "Haley's filing for divorce. I've been served."

When he eventually takes his eyes off of the lettering, his eyes meet yours. They lock onto you and it is in that moment that you feel as though you have been given the key to unlock his soul. His eyes are so unusual at this moment; they are more vulnerable than you have ever seen. The stoic man is gone, and instead, it is the eyes of one who is in tremendous pain. You had mistaken his bloodshot eyes for physical fatigue on the plane, but now you see that it is emotional exhaustion as well.

If only you knew how badly I want to hug you and tell you that you won't be swallowed up by this darkness. There's a long road ahead, but you have so many people here who love you and are here to support you through this. You aren't alone. Trust me, I know.

In some way, you pray that he can read into your soul and see the pain you feel for him. Once more, your shared silence proves to speak for itself.

At last, he breaks eye contact with you and finally releases the breath that you had been holding in. Dave grabs onto your arm, seeing the clear impact Hotch's news has on you, no doubt having also noticed Hotch's immediate response in looking at you.

"I'm sorry, but I don't think I can join you tonight," he excuses himself and escapes to the seclusion of his office.

Maybe history does have a way of repeating itself.

Tag List:

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sweetyyhippyy · 3 years ago

Text

Part of You. Spencer Reid x OC! Character. Chapter 23.

Chapter 23: Mourn.

(Not my gif)

Summary: With Bridgett still missing and zero clues to help the team find her; Spencer is feeling the pressure. It’s not until Penelope gets a video sent to her, that the puzzle pieces start coming together, but just quickly, everything falls apart.

TW: Mentions of blood. Miscarriage. Being held captive. Grieving the loss of a pregnancy. Mention of forced drug use. Slight rape mention. *PLEASE DO NOT READ IF YOU COULD POTENTIALLY BE TRIGGERER BY THIS CHAPTER*

Word count: 3.9k

A.N.: I’m sorry.

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

“It’s been 2 days. I’m going crazy here! How have we found nothing on who took Bridgett?” Spencer yells, slamming his hand down on the table, throwing himself onto the chair next to him.

“Reid, we’re going to find her, okay? We’ve worked longer cases where we know everything about the unsub and it still took us almost a week or two to capture them.” Rossi says, trying to comfort him.

“Yeah, and nine times out of ten we found the victims dead.” Spencer spits, getting out of the chair and walking out of the room.

JJ sighs, rubbing her head slowly. “Does anyone know if he’s gotten any sleep since Saturday?”

“It doesn’t look like it. I wouldn’t be able to sleep either.” Luke interjects, leaning back in his chair. “We have to find something on the bastard that took Bridgett before Reid goes on a mission to find him himself.”

“All we have is the partial plate. The DMV records never came up with anything.” Penelope says.

“Well someone had to have seen something!” Luke says, his voice raised.

“We talked to everyone that was parked on that level of the garage, nobody saw anything.”

The room stays silent, everyone was stressed out at this point. Nobody has any type of leads on anything. All other cases took the backseat right now in the whole department, everyone was looking for Bridgett but they felt like they were going in circles.

“Guys? Someone go get Spencer. Now.” Penelope says with a gasp.

“You have something?” Rossi asks.

“Yes, someone get Spencer now!”

***

Bridgett wakes up in full body sweat and panic, 2 loud pops waking her up from her sleep. Her head swivels back and forth, the lights on in the room for once. Her body was beyond sore, and weak. She wasn’t sure how long it had been that she had been gone, but it felt like a lifetime. Bridgett slowly moves her legs off the mattress and onto the floor below her. As she moves she feels wetness between her legs. She brings her hand down slowly and touches her inner thigh, bringing her hand back up and seeing her hand covered in blood.

“Oh god.” She whimpers, using her other hand to check to see if what she had seen was really what she had seen.

And it was.

Of course the thought of miscarriage popped up in her head, she had been through hell and back for however long she had been put through being beaten and drugged.

From across the room she spots Evan’s laptop sitting on a chair. Bridgett looks around the room, double checking to make sure she was alone, and carefully walks over to the chair, kneeling onto her knees to be level with the screen.

She moves the mouse pad and the computer lights up, no password needed thankfully. She looks around the tabs and finds the video recorder Evan had used a few days prior. Bridgett’s head pops up once more before hitting the record button.

***

“I got this video emailed to me less than 5 minutes ago, at first I thought it was maybe just junk, but when I read the subject line I knew it was important. I hadn’t watched it yet, but I saw the screen and it’s Bridgett.” Penelope says, looking up at Spencer who was standing right next to her.

“Play it.” He says, motioning over to the laptop.

“Spence, what if-“

“Garcia, please.”

Penelope sighs and clicks the triangle play button on her laptop screen.

“I hope this works, because if not… I don’t know how much longer I can put up with this... I don’t know exactly where I am, all I know is that I’m in Ashburn. I need you guys to look up Grant Morina in our past cases. It was back in 2012, I don’t remember when exactly. Grant’s brother is the one that kidnapped me. His name is Evan Morina. I don’t know if I’m in his house, or some abandoned building, but find anything you can on him.” Bridgett’s head turns around behind her quickly, her voice getting lower. “Spence, if you’re seeing this, come find me, please.”

The video ends, leaving everyone silent.

Spencer stares at the screen, tears welling up in his eyes as he sees the bruises all over Bridgett’s face and how scared she was.

“I’m going to go to the file room. Look up the case she was talking about.” Spencer says, getting up from the table. Everyone knew that so the files had been moved to their tablets, and knew Spencer needed time to himself.

“I’ll go with you.” JJ says.

“No. No. I can do it. I need a minute by myself.” He responds, walking out of the room quickly.

The team looks at each other, sadness and worry written on all of their faces. They had no idea how to comfort Spencer at all or if there was even anyway to comfort him without Bridgett.

“Guys… we have to find Bridgett fast. I know something you don’t know.” Penelope says.

“Penelope?” Emily asks, raising an eyebrow.

Penelope sighs, chewing the inside of her lip. “Bridgett is pregnant.”

The room’s eyes grow wide at the information, everyone exchanging looks with one another.

“Oh my god.” JJ whispers.

“I don’t think Spencer knows yet. When I asked Bridgett at Stephen’s funeral if she had told him, she said she was waiting for the right time. Knowing Bridge, she was probably waiting until they got married.”

“We need to find her, today. We can’t waste another minute. Let’s get to work.”

***

Spencer sits in the empty room by himself, the silence was deafening. He was beyond worried about Bridgett and even though the video proved that she was alive at some point, he couldn’t help but think that there was the possibility things could have changed.

“Reid?” Luke walks in the room cautiously.

Spencer looks up toward the door, nodding in approval to come in.

“Hey, thought I would come check up on you.” He says, sitting across the table from Spencer.

Spencer sighs and twists the paperclip between his thumb and pointer finger. “I’m… I don’t even know how I am if I’m being honest.”

“Hey, we have a lot more information on where Bridgett could be because of that video she sent. We’re going to find her.”

“I know we’re going to find her… but how are we going to find her? That’s-that’s what I’m worried about. I can’t stand the thought of losing Bridgett.”

“You can’t think like that, Reid. You’ll drive yourself crazy doing that.”

“I’ve been driving myself crazy for 2 days now.”

The door opens back up, JJ barely popping her head in the room. “Hey, Garcia needs us. All of us.”

“We’re coming.” Luke says, getting up from his seat as JJ walks back out. He rounds the table and gives a comforting pat on Spencer’s back. “Come on, let’s see what Garcia has.”

Spencer gets up from his chair and follows Luke slowly to the conference room.

“Guys! Guys! I have something!” Penelope calls out, rushing into the conference room, placing her laptop on the table. “Okay! So a few hours ago, a male wound up in the Ashburn county hospital with a gunshot wound to his shoulder. He told the responding officer he had been held captive along with a woman, matching Bridgett’s description.”

“Did he say where she was?” Spencer asks, flying out of his seat to stand, getting ready to head out to find Bridgett.

“He’s working with the city police to find the house. He didn’t know the exact address, he just knew where the house was. I got in contact with the police chief and he is sending me the location now, which means I’ll be sending it to all of you… now.”

“Are local PD there?”

“No not yet. When I got off the phone with the chief they were gearing up to leave.”

“Okay, let’s get going. Garcia, talk to the chief and ask if we can search the place first.” Emily says.

***

Bridgett whines, shifting in the mattress uncomfortably as her lower half continues to cramp. She lays on her side, feeling the blood make her thighs stick together.

It was no question that she was having a miscarriage at this point, the cramps was the equivalent of period cramps, but ten times worse. She was covered in a blanket of sweat from all the pain she was in and how hot the room was.

Her head begins to spin as she shifts herself onto her other side, her stomach joining in the mix. Bridgett looks around for anything to empty the contents of her stomach into, but it was too late, it went all over the floor. Once Bridgett is done, she lays back onto the mattress, trying to find a position that took just a bit of pain away, flat on her back, her side, in a ball but nothing was really helping. She takes the pillow next to her and wipes her forehead clear of sweat.

In the distance she hears a loud thud, making heart beat fast. Evan hadn’t been around in what seemed like a few hours, it was probably him returning. Bridgett listens for the footsteps upstairs as usual, waiting for them to sound closer which meant he was coming down the stairs.

“Hello?” A male voice calls out from far away.

Bridgett sits up on the mattress, staying quiet just to make sure it truly was a voice she heard and it wasn’t just her mind playing tricks on her. She hears footsteps coming down the stairs, the knot in her stomach tightening as the footsteps grow closer.

“Bridgett?” The same voice calls out.

It wasn’t Evan’s voice. This voice she recognized.

Bridgett stays quiet, scanning the room for something to defend herself in need be.

“Bridgett?! Bridgett? It’s Luke. Are you alright?” He says from the other side of the door.

She quickly gets up, rushing to the door and pounds on it harshly. “I’m in here! I’m here!” She yells.

“Okay, hold on.” He responds back.

Bridgett steps off to the side just in case he had to break the door down or shoot the handle open.

After a few seconds the door swings open, Luke walking in with his gun drawn. “It’s me.” He says lightly, holstering his weapon.

Bridgett looks at him with tears in her eyes, throwing herself into his arms as she sobs into his shoulder.

“It’s alright. I got you. You’re okay.” He says, hugging her back.

“The baby. The baby. I’m having a miscarriage.” She cries in his ear, tightening the grip on the back of his vest.

Luke let’s her go, looking at her in fear. “Are you sure?”

“Don’t tell Spencer. Not yet.”

“Luke? You got her? The rest of the house is clear.” Emily says through his ear piece.

“Yeah. I got her. Basement. We need medics down here now.” Luke says into his walkie. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to say anything. But the rest of the team knows.”

“Bridgett?” Spencer’s voice traveling into the room.

Bridgett’s head snaps up from Luke’s embrace, looking for him behind Luke. He runs into the room, his face reading relief as he finally lays eyes on her for the first time in 2 days.

Luke let’s her go, helping her walk over to Spencer.

Bridgett wraps her arms around Spencer’s body, sobbing into his chest as he hugs her tightly, not wanting to let her go.

“I’m sorry I didn’t come find you sooner.” He whispers, his hands touching her hair soothingly.

Bridgett shakes her head, “All that matters is that you’re here now. I just want you here now.” She sobs.

“I’m right here. I’m not leaving.” He shushes her, rocking her back and forth slightly.

The rest of the team fills the room, all of them taking a deep breath of relief as they spot Bridgett for the first time.

“Hey, let’s get you upstairs and wait for the medics.” Emily says, resting her hands on Bridgett’s shoulder.

Bridgett pulls back from her embrace with Spencer, carefully wiping her eyes clear from tears.

JJ wraps a large blanket around Bridgett’s shoulders, giving her a side hug as she does so.

Spencer and Luke help Bridgett up the stairs carefully and through the house. It was the first time she had seen the rest of the house since she had been there. There was actually signs of life through the home, it wasn’t just a scary dungeon like the place Bridgett was in the past few days.

“Guys, I need to sit.” Bridgett says, trying to breathe through the cramps she was still experiencing.

Both of them help her onto a kitchen chair quickly.

“We’re going to get you some water.” Spencer says, crouching down next to Bridgett.

Bridgett nods her head, trying not to grip her stomach as it cramps harshly.

“Are you in pain?” Spencer asks.

“Mmm, a little.” Bridgett tries to give as vague an answer as possible, hoping he didn’t go into detail about what was hurting her.

JJ hands Bridgett a bottle of water, giving her a sympathetic look as she looks at her. It made Bridgett wonder if she knew what was really going on. “Medics are less than a minute out.”

“Okay. Evan… did you guys find Evan?”

JJ’s eyes flick over to Spencer and Luke before looking back at Bridgett. “He’s… he’s dead.”

Bridgett’s eyes grow wide at her statement. “Dead? Where? How?”

“Upstairs. It looks like he was stabbed to death.”

Bridgett huffs, trying to process everything.

“Hey, medics are here.” Emily says, walking in with 2 people behind her.

***

“Why can’t I see her yet?” Spencer asks, pacing the private waiting room the hospital let the team sit in.

“Spence… they have to do a kit on her. Those are so invasive, you wouldn’t want to be in there even if you could.” JJ says, rubbing his back.

He sighs, dropping his head in his hands. “She’s been by herself for 2 and a half days, I don’t want her to be alone anymore.”

“I know. But the doctor promised to come get you once they were done.”

“Did she say if he…?” He couldn’t even finish his thought, nor did he want to.

“She didn’t say. All she told the medics was that he beat her and drugged her. They still need to do the kit though just in case he did when she wasn’t conscious.”

Spencer sinks down in the chair, bringing his hand to his mouth as he tries to calmly breathe. “She’s been through so much, and she doesn’t deserve any of it. The stuff he did to her… I wish he was still alive so I could kill him myself and I would still get a good night's sleep.” He says the last part is monotone.

JJ puts a comforting hand on Spencer’s knee. “I know you want vengeance, but you know that you belong with Bridge, making sure she’s getting through life mentally. She’s going to go through a lot mentally, emotionally, physically, and she needs you there with her every step of the way.”

Spencer nods his head, his gaze elsewhere, if he looked at JJ he was going to break. “I will.”

“Family of Bridgett?” A nurse comes out of the double doors.

Spencer shoots up out of his seat and strides over to the nurse. “Is she okay?”

“She’ll be fine. We are going to have to perform an emergency surgery on her.”

“Why?” Spencer questions.

The nurse stays quiet for a second, clearing her throat. “Bridgett wanted me to wait until you got back there to inform you about the procedure. So I can take you back to see her and talk.”

He nods his head, handing JJ his gun and holster before walking back with the nurse.

***

“I’ll grab your husband and let him come see you before we take you back for the procedure.” The nurse says, giving her hand a comforting squeeze.

“Will you just make sure not to tell him why I’m having surgery? I want him to hear it from me.”

“You got it.” The nurse walks out of the room, leaving Bridgett by herself to prepare herself to finally tell Spencer about her pregnancy, but she wasn’t prepared to tell him the other part.

At first all Bridgett sees is his floppy hair bouncing up and down as he rushes past the nurses station to Bridgett’s room. She holds her breath as his whole body comes into view, his eyes soften as he sees the bruises and cuts clearly for the first time.

“Hi baby.” He says softly, taking her hand and sitting in the chair next to her.

“Hi. They told you I’m having surgery?” She asks, clearing her throat to prevent the knot in her throat from straining her voice.

“Yeah. Just not why.”

“Well… I-I,” Bridgett starts, feeling the damn tears sting her eyes. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” She sniffles.

“Tell me what, baby?” Spencer asks, dropping down to sit on the edge of the bed next to Bridgett.

“A few weeks after your hearing, I found out that I was pregnant. With your baby… obviously.” She says, not wanting to look at his face.

“Pregnant?” He repeats in disbelief.

Bridgett nods her head, gnawing on her bottom lip. “I was 13 weeks.”

“Was? Like the baby isn’t…” He didn’t want to finish the sentence, mostly because the knot in his throat started forming.

“I’m sorry.” She sobs. “All the stress I went through the past couple days, and the physical abuse and he drugged me. It was too much for them.”

“No, no, you don’t have to be sorry. You have nothing to be sorry for, Bridgett. This isn’t your fault.” He coos, touching her face softly. “I wish I could just tell you not to blame yourself, but I know it’s so much harder than that mentally. But nobody blames you for anything that’s happened to you.” He says, his own eyes glossy from his tears. “I know you’re going to have a long road of dealing with everything that happened to you, but I want you to know I’m right here, okay? I’m not leaving your side. Ever.”

Bridgett wipes the tear rolling down his cheek with her thumb, caressing his cheek. “I love you. A lot.”

“I love you too.” She replies, holding her arms open for him to hug her.

He leans down carefully to envelop her in a much needed hug.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you when I found out.” Bridgett cries softly into his ear.

Spencer chokes back tears of his own. “It’s okay. I understand why you didn’t tell me right away.” He says, trying to reassure her that she made the right decision.

***

“Reid?” Luke comes from behind Spencer, finding him leaning on his fist, fast asleep. “Reid? Hey, wake up man.” He says, tapping his shoulder.

Spencer jumps up slightly, dropping his arm and looking up at Luke, he was so tired that he didn’t know what was going on or where he even was.

“Hey, Bridgett’s out of surgery. The nurse just came and got me, she didn’t want to wake you.”

Spencer rubs the sleep out of his eyes, going to get up out of his chair, but Luke sits him back down.

“She’s still sleeping from the anesthesia. They said they’ll come back and get you when she’s awake.”

“Oh, okay. Thanks Luke.” Spencer says with a small smile.

“How are you holding up?” Luke asks, sitting in the chair across from Spencer.

“I don’t know. I don’t think I’ve really had time to process what’s going on. Plus I really don’t know how Bridgett is. I think I’m scared of how this is all going to affect her.” Spencer says, bouncing his leg up and down. “She was pregnant.” He says with tears welling up in his eyes, he takes his thumb, index, and middle finger and holds them to his eyes, trying to stop the tears from flowing, but the sob erupting from his chest shakes his fragile body.

“I know, I’m so sorry, Spencer.” Luke says, putting his hand on Spencer’s shoulder in comfort. “All of us are so sorry.”

***

Spencer follows the nurse into Bridgett’s room, finding her asleep as soon as he walks in and lays eyes on her.

“Let us know when she wakes up that way we can talk to her about how the surgery went and the next steps we’re going through as far as the withdrawal process she’s going to go through from the ketamine.”

Spencer nods his head at the nurse, taking Bridgett’s hand in his. “I-I have a few questions before she wakes up.” He clears the pain away from his throat before speaking. “He didn’t… sexually assault her, did he?”

“No. There were no signs of that.”

Spencer sighs in a bit of relief. He couldn’t imagine what Bridgett would have to go through mentally if that happened to her a second time. “And the… the baby… were you able to tell-.” He couldn’t get through the rest of the sentence without the knot coming back into his throat. “It’s fine. It’s not important.” He shakes his head.

“We were able to tell the gender but if you want to know later I can let you know. Take all the time you need to get through this with your fiancée.”

“Thank you.” Spencer looks up at her, his eyes glossed over as he was fighting back all the tears that threatened to spill.

Within a minute of the nurse leaving, Bridgett’s hand squeezes Spencer’s.

He watches Bridgett roll her head slowly to the opposite side and mumble something incoherent before she slowly opens her eyes.

“Hey. Hey sweetheart.” He smiles, touching her cheek softly.

Bridgett gasps and flinches, pushing his arm harshly away from her. “No.”

Spencer opens his mouth to explain himself, but he could see the tears in Bridgett’s eyes already. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

“I can’t do the touching thing right now... just please.”

“Right. I’m sorry. I’m just happy you’re awake. They said the surgery went well.”

Bridgett nods her head absentmindedly, taking a deep sigh. She was physically in the room, but he could tell that menally she was long gone.

“Bridge…” He strokes her knuckles. “Hey, it’s okay sweetheart.”

“No it’s not.” She says, her eyes already feeling with tears. “I lost the baby.”

“Bridge, that wasn’t your fault. You were beaten and drugged. Nobody is going to blame you for that.”

“But I am. I had one job, to take care of the baby… and I-,” The tears start to flow down Bridgett’s face, broken hiccups coming from her. “I’m sorry.”

He couldn’t tell if she was emotional from waking up and feeling completely out of it from the anesthesia or if the past few days were catching up with her. “I’m going to go get a nurse, okay? I’ll be right back.”

Bridgett looked to him, tears still filling her big brown eyes. “But you’re coming back right?”

“Yes I’m coming right back. I’m not going far I promise.” He says in a soft voice. Spencer gets up from the chair and walks out of the room to find the same nurse he was talking with before.

There was no doubt that this was going to be the most difficult part of their relationship, even Celeste being murdered years ago was easier to get through than what Bridgett would have to get though.

#spencer reid #spencer Reid smut #Spencer Reid fluff #Spencer Reid smut fic #spencer reid x original female character #spencer reid x oc character #matthew gray gubler #matthew gray gubler fan fic #matthew gray gubler smut #matthew gray gubler fan fiction #matthew gray gubler fluff #criminal minds #criminal minds fan fiction #part of you fic

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eminems-skittles · 3 years ago

Text

shirt [spencer reid x reader]

spencer reid x fem!reader

warnings: character death like major character death, very sad, angst, mentions of being shot.

word count: 0.7k

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

Baby blue.

That's what drew her to the shirt. It was a soft baby blue with small purple and pink flowers decorating the pocket and sleeves. It caught her eye just as she was about to leave the store with no luck. Spencer convinced her to buy it, saying something about how it would be a cool work shirt. She bought the shirt with little hesitation, happy about her new purchase.

She wore it during a case. A hard case that didn't seem like it was going to end. Yet the day she wore it, they found the missing piece of the never ending puzzle. From that moment forward, she brought the shirt with her on every single case, only donning the shirt on cases when they needed just a little bit of luck. She wore it when Spencer asked her to be his girlfriend and when they went to look at their first apartment together. It was her something blue when they got married. Somehow that baby blue shirt had weaved its way into her life and became the backdrop for many important events.

Baby Blue.

The color of the sky as she stared up on it. Clouds dotted the sky, highlighted by the afternoon sun. She closed her eyes and let out a breath. The dark grey concrete she was laying on was more comfortable than she anticipated it to be. She felt like a kid again, looking at the clouds as her family went on a picnic in the park.

"Spencer," she tried to choke out, but a cough knocked the words right out of her. She felt something coat the back of her hand but she couldn't seem to pull her eyes away from the clouds above her. She attempted to lift her arm up to point at the different shape but her arm felt like it weighed a million pounds, Soft mumbles left her mouth, "Look it's a bunny! No it's a dragon! Look it's..."

She was interrupted by another coughing fit and her eyes fluttered closed softly. She thought back to when she would look at the clouds with her mom as they drove down the highway to go visit their family. She thought of her mom's voice, sweet like honey, telling her about the different kinds of clouds. She thought she heard her mom closer to her as she remembered the clouds and the drives and the picnics. Suddenly there was a hand on her shoulder, her eyes half opening. "Mom?"

"It's Spencer, love," her husband cooed softly. Tears littered his cheeks as he looked at his wife. He lifted her head onto his lap and raked one of his through her hair. The other rested on her stomach, pressing on it gently. Y/N's eyes slid closed again. "Love, I need you to keep your eyes open for me. The doctor will be here soon. Please, please keep your eyes open."

"Spencer? What's going on? Come lay down and watch the-" another cough interrupted her. She mustered enough strength to look at the back of her hand.

Red.

Red splatter painted the back of her hand, almost resembling a Jackson Pollock painting. Her eyes shot open in panic as she stared at the blood. "Spencer what's going on? Wh-Why is there blood?"

Spencer choked back a sob as he reached for her hand. "Y/N, my love, stay calm. Y-You were shot. But you're going to be okay. The doctor is going to be here soon. You're going to make it through. You have to."

Y/N struggled to move her hand over Spencer's, pushing his out of the way. Her fingers were met with a warm liquid and a strangled cry escaped her throat. "Spencer don't let me go. I'm not ready to go."

"I won't. I won't don't worry," he whispered.

"Spencer," Y/n beckoned for his attention. Spencer looked at her, moving hair out of her face. "This was my favorite shirt."

And her eyes slid shut.

Red.

Her baby blue shirt was now red. At least the bottom of it was. The red took over the baby blue shirt, covering the pink and purple flowers on her sleeves. As the red took the baby blue, it took fragments of Y/n with it. It took her smile and her melodious laugh. It took the cases that Y/n helped solve and the ones that she couldn't.

The baby blue backdrop to her life was now red. And Spencer decided in that moment that he had never hated a color more than he hated the color red.

#cassie's masterlist #masterlist #{ writing }#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #Criminal Minds #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #{ criminal minds }#{ tv shows }

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katytheinspiredworkaholic · 3 years ago

Text

The Construct of Time, Chapter 02

Pairing: HotchReid

Written For: The HotchReid Valentine’s Day Trope Challenge, Trope Assignments = Historical AU, Time Travel

Summary: The year is 1924, half a decade after the first World War, and a few years before the Great Depression would devastate the nation. It is a time of contradiction: the modernist uprising of science and innovation, met with a traditionalist, fearful desire to cling to the past in a fast-evolving, urbanist society. And on this morning in Washington D.C. an unmarked package is left outside the office of Aaron ‘Hotch’ Hotchner, P.I., with a note simply telling him to find the rest, and a substantial price tag attached. What he finds in this package is something he has never seen before, hundreds of years old, and he barely knows where to start trying to find more like it. Ultimately he is pointed towards someone that may just have a clue what to do with his charge: a Classics Historian working in the basements of the Smithsonian, Dr. Spencer Reid. Together, what they discover sends them on a break-neck chase across the city, searching for a mysterious collection of powerful artifacts, and the people that are trying to sell them. Forever changing everything they know about the world, the people in it, truth, lies, love, and the fragile construct of time.

Rating: Mature/Explicit (to be determined)

Chapter CW/notes: Once again no real TW/CW for this. Just lots of academic nonsense and these two men being hopelessly smitten. I got carried away with the staring and looking away quickly and flirting and Spencer looking pretty in low lighting. Once again I based my entire description of The Library of Congress on Pinterest photos and the map outlines on their website. Everything else is my imagination wanting to play with more Tropes. I also did a lot of research on anything that sounds remotely modern as I wrote, and yes: in the 1920′s they did have neon signs, swiss army pocket knives, but the Rubik’s cube wasn’t even conceived until 1974 so Hotch would have no idea what to do with that puzzle box. Spencer is a super genius so he gets a pass.

Word Count: 4,353

Masterpost Link

Ao3 Link

–

Chapter 02: The Meaning of the Message

–

Nearly every attendant in the grand stone lobby of the Library of Congress greets Dr. Reid as he leads P.I. Hotchner to their destination. Yet another building that Hotch has never actually gotten to visit and appreciate, despite living in D.C. for the better part of two decades.

The architecture alone is astounding; towering marble archways lined with paintings and dozens upon dozens of statues, and a polished stone floor of rich earthen tones that makes the whole place echo like a time long past. The Academia environment more than an aesthetic, but a permeating sensation that fills the very air and seeps beneath the skin. Much akin to entering a very old, very revered church, it's massive walls filled with more detail than the eye can take in demands respect in a way a rare number of the buildings in the District do. Hotch feels if he speaks one word into the quiet surrounding them it will somehow take away or offend the vigilant temple, so it feels jarring when passer-bys murmur soft greetings of "Good Morning, Dr. Reid," to the man leading him up sweeping staircases and down hallways adorned in priceless murals. Either Dr. Reid is much more important than Sam Cooper had let on, or he spends a fair amount of time there at the nation's official library. He certainly is walking through it like he owns the place.

A few moments later they emerge into the main Reading Room, a circular room that rises up three stories and shows the hundreds of stacks surrounding it like spokes on a wagon wheel, the ground floor an organized array of research desks and lamps amid a quiet hum of scholars at work. No spoken words, just the turning of pages and scratches of pens and the collective air of minds churning and reciting and piecing history together like squares on a quilt. But Dr. Reid doesn't even break his stride as he crosses the space, nodding and waving shyly at certain people, the P.I. following in his footsteps. Soon they are out of the main public space and back to winding hallways, stints of stairs, priceless artwork, until they find themselves within a forest of shelves and tomes and Dr. Reid is maneuvering between them like they are an extension of himself. He pulls a few volumes off of the shelves as they pass, so fast it should be impossible for him to have known what was where and what he needed. Leaving Hotch confused, and curious. He thought they would at least have visited the card catalog room to narrow down their search.

"You can sit here, I need to grab a few more books from the section above us," Dr. Reid says, placing the stack he'd gathered on a table tucked into a reading cove, turning on the green glass lamp and setting down his satchel he'd brought with him from the Smithsonian. Hotch picks up the first book idly and reads the title: The Age of Italian Sciences, the one below reading Alchemies and Chemistries: Evolutions of Science, and so on and so forth.

"Are you searching for the source of the box?" he inquires, a small inkling of pride in himself for having correctly recognized the origin of the box upon his first observation.

Dr. Reid nods, "And its purpose. There's something odd about the mechanics of it that I can't quite put my finger on. But I need to go get the book the message quoted, so we can try to understand what it's telling us." In his research notebook, Dr. Reid opens the page to the glowingly white paper and the single line written upon it. Hotch shrugs off his overcoat to toss in the booth, setting his hat on top of it, but does not sit down.

"Then lead the way," he motions back to some of the thin winding stairs that climb more like ladders than steps. "I want to see this for myself, as well. Get a feel for the genre. My knowledge of literature isn't what it used to be."

"Unless you slept through your Classics classes, this one will be hard to miss," Dr. Reid tells him with a quirk of a smile, changing his whole expression as he accidentally falls into something more familiar and less formal. Making him glow brighter than the lamp light beside them or the intense white of the foreign paper on the desk, and softening Hotch's own usually stoic features. He nods again towards the stairs, companionably, and as he follows is once again swept up in how the young scholar navigates the library. More at home than he could ever be in any apartment space or townhouse.

The Classics section is a mixture of books clinging to life by the few remaining threads binding the spines together, and newer essays and research compiled and freshly printed. Works written by men with only a single, somewhat difficult to pronounce names, and historians that have 'Ph.D.' written in their author biographies at the back. Dr. Reid doesn't even glance at the titles as he weaves through the stacks, this way and that with his fingers skimming the spines bit by bit – as if he could tell what lies within them through mere touch. In the dim lamp glows and golden hues he looks other-worldly. A man seeped in his own element, Hotch merely a tourist in a temple. He watches very intently, how Dr. Reid murmurs to himself as he reads the titles, his eyes darting about reading far faster than Hotch can – he wonder's idly just how fast as it takes them only a few minutes to find what they are looking for.

Those minutes stretch like eons, and in those eons he feels he's seen another universe entirely. What a remarkable thing to witness. It isn't as if Hotch wasn't used to doing his own research in Law Libraries when he was a prosecutor, or when he was studying the practice at Harvard. But this feels transcendent, a puzzle more peculiar than the box that was sent to him only hours ago. Who was Dr. Spencer Reid, and why did he seem to come alive between the rows of books more than he did when interacting with the human beings who shelve them? Every person that works in that Library knows him by name. And somehow, Dr. Reid seems to know every book by name in the same manner. A feat to marvel at, as there are millions of books in this building.

And just like that, the moment continues to astound him – the young man's eyes zero in and light up as he pulls a book from the shelf, flips through it page by page, finger flowing down as he skims for something. Lips moving too fast for Hotch to read. If he didn't know any better, he'd think the man was reading every word in the span of a few seconds!

"This is it, I know it – I just have to find the passage," Dr. Reid says, looking up at Hotch who was patiently waiting, observing, soaking in the moment and the absolute marvel before him. As exquisite as the statues carved into every corner of the building they stand inside. A romantic or renaissance-like quality to every glance. Frame by frame. So little light between the stacks, yet every angle of his face catches it handsomely. Turns the edges of his auburn curls gold. " –is something the matter?" he asks, when Hotch doesn't answer for a long stretch of pause.

"I'm just a little baffled," he says, low and quiet. "How you found everything so quickly. As if you knew right where it was, not knowing what we were looking for when you got up this morning." If he hadn't seen it for himself, Hotch would have been overly suspicious. Even claim the kid was letting him on, leading him round and round the bookshelves like it was a game. But he'd seen the way the young doctor had worked through everything methodically, narrowing it down from wing to room to section to shelf. It didn't make it any less remarkable, or unbelievable. But the investigator in him kept him skeptical. "How?"

Dr. Reid looks back down at the book in his hands, this one of those copies that were well worn and in need of fresh binding. He seems to be keeping back a smile, and something else that makes Hotch suspicious all over again, but there's a curl to those lips that lessens his worry about it being somehow ill-intended. "Let's just say I did not sleep through my Classics class. I have this book… as good as memorized."

"You enjoyed it that much?" Hotch asks with a raised eyebrow, stepping closer to try and get a better look at the novel and it's title. Although he finds himself once again more captured by the man's hands than the book.

"On the contrary, I hated it. I was never a fan of the Tragedies, and this one is of subjects that can be very hard to read about – much less observe acted in a play," Dr. Reid says, finally closing the book and keeping place with a finger between the pages so Hotch can read the cover. Oedipus the King by Sophocles. Even Hotch remembered that one; a very controversial play about a prophecy come true, of a son who kills his father and weds his own mother. Hotch can't recall a single line from that play, but he does vaguely remember the gist of its plot.

"Why would you memorize a play you hate?" Hotch questions further, looking between the book and the young man like he can't help it. He most certainly was hard to look away from for longer than a moment. Dr. Reid seems to grow quiet again, that air of a secret kept close to his chest threatening to burst forth, and Hotch is no longer suspicious… curiosity, it seems, is catching. And he is awfully curious about Dr. Spencer Reid.

"I – I memorize everything I read," he admits, darting eyes and that soft, slip of his tongue wetting his lips between one moment and the next. So fast he would have missed it if Hotch hadn't been standing so close to the other. Caught between the stacks, it was easy to forget they didn't actually have any privacy at all, when the moment felt like there was no one else in the world but them. "One of my former professors has classified it as a condition he calls an Eidetic Memory. I can recall nearly everything I've ever read, like shuffling through a stack of photographs. Even books I've read years ago. He still uses me as a subject for case studies whenever he's passing through the District."

"I've never heard of that," Hotch says, surprised and not sure he believes it.

"Most haven't. He's still studying it; but I can remember lines from every textbook and every reading assignment for every class I've ever taken. I even know all the lines of the Bible, although I've only read it once." Dr. Reid seems to feel like stating his case is hopeless, and Hotch understands now why he was so hesitant to explain himself. The first thing someone would do in this situation is test the young genius, and Hotch has an itch to start spouting verse numbers to see if the man can really recite the Bible like a preacher. But they were here for a reason, and there was a very easy way to test his claim.

So, without speaking a word, Hotch steps even closer to the other, to the point Dr. Reid backs up like he's about to be in the older man's way. As if he thought the investigator was about to leave. But his trajectory sends the younger man pressed back into a book shelf, with Hotch standing in his space and keeping him blocked there by his own broad shoulders and questioning stare. He reaches between them and motions for the book in the doctor's hands, the main thing keeping them apart but for a few inches of space. He can see how the other's face grows that dusty red and his eyes try to look anywhere but right into Hotch's own. "May I?" Hotch asks, clasping the book and tugging it gently from Dr. Reid's hands. Their fingers brush when he does, and it keeps the other man silent.

With a smirk of a smile, Hotch turns just the slightest bit, leaning his shoulder into the bookshelf beside Dr. Reid, and flips open the book idly. "If you can really remember every line of this book, then you should be able to remember the number next to the line in our message." It's a straightforward enough assumption, and Dr. Reid finally looks stunned in a way that is more baffled than flustered. Like he can't believe Hotch is humoring him, or believing him. "Maybe the handwriting is what's throwing you off?"

Dr. Reid blinks his bright eyes, honey hazel and full of questions. Full of answers. Full of hope, thinly veiled beneath it all. "I suppose so," he murmurs, leaning heavier back into the bookshelves as if they are all that holds him upright.

"Come on then, close your eyes and think about the typewriter print on the page," Hotch urges, his voice a low soothing rumble as he occupies himself flipping through the book, now somewhere in the 800's when he skims the lines. "There's a number next to every 15 lines, on the outside margin. The message said 'Time, which sees all things, has found you out'." He pauses, glancing beside him to see Dr. Reid had indeed closed his eyes, delicate lids smudged as dark as the circles under his eyes from many sleepless nights. Hotch wonders what exactly keeps him up at night, besides the next chapter in a book. "What's the number right next to it?"

"1265." There's no hesitation in the other man's answer.

With an even more curious curl to his lips, Hotch flips further through the book until the lines read in the 1200's, and right there at 1265 is the sentence from the message in the puzzle box.

"Well, I'll be damned," Hotch murmurs, low and breathless. How on Earth did that kid just do that? "That's incredible. You are… incredible." Dr. Reid opens his eyes and then they are looking at each other once more. Darting glances, a flush of pride on the younger's high cheekbones, auburn curls trying to curtain his expression from him. But Hotch refuses to let him hide. His own dark tunnel-vision stare drawing Dr. Reid out of his shy reprieve, enough for Hotch to offer the smallest private slip of a smile. Rare, and all his own. "Show me more."

The beautiful beaming expression that crosses Dr. Reid's face, the young man finally resisting ducking his head to try and hide it once more, is as breath-taking as any of the art lining the walls of the building they stand in.

" –Alright," Dr. Reid relents, after a moment, and takes the book back from Hotch's hands. Their fingers brush again, it's like lightning crackling in a storm on the horizon. Quiet, yet sudden. "This passage I don't think has any consequence to your case. It's part of a conversation between two of the characters about the son's incestuous secrets, saying that all truth is revealed in time. That nothing can remain hidden forever."

"Well, we're looking for a collection of unknown artifacts that belong in museums," Hotch reminds him. "Or at least I'm sure they do. But you've never heard of or seen this puzzle box in your studies before, right?"

"Never," Dr. Reid agrees. "I suppose it could be in regards to the fact these are secretive pieces, but I think the play itself is supposed to be a clue." He clears his throat and tucks more hair behind his ear as he tries to put his thoughts in order. Hesitating to spout forth information like a break in a dam, the way he holds himself back near painful to witness. Hotch can see the signs of someone who has been told to not talk so much in rude and cruel ways, which is a shame. Dr. Reid nearly starts and stops a handful of times, still flipping through the book when Hotch reaches over once more. Breaks the barrier of touch, and places a hand on his wrist.

Hotch's palm and fingers feel large in comparison to the younger man's thin scholar-honed hands, his touch encompassing not only his wrist and palm but the ridge of his knuckles as well. Sharp and pale and soft. The young man's pulse is racing like a freight train beneath his fingertips.

"Speak your mind." It's a gentle, low demand, the bass of his voice seeming ever so loud in the quiet hum of the library. But it calls the other's attention back to his face, looking for assurance and still so weary. "As far as I'm concerned, anything you have to say can help me. We're as good as partners, in this. Hell, I should probably be paying you as a consultant." He teases gently, with only the traces of humor softening his face. Most can't see it, usually, but by the way Dr. Reid's gaze washes over his face – Hotch thinks the younger man is catching every single nuance. As if it was bright as neon.

He looks down shyly, and his dusty brown lashes are so long they cast shadows on his cheeks when he bites back a grin. "You can't afford me," Dr. Reid jests, catching Hotch off guard. Pleasantly so. Hotch smiles back so wide it creases the dimples into his cheeks.

"Then consider me your charity case," Hotch says with a tilt of his head, pressing his shoulder into the bookcase as he glances back to the book. "Now tell me, what's the brilliant mind of yours thinking so hard about?"

With a sigh that moves his whole chest, parts his lips, Dr. Reid seems to center himself further and then… opens the floodgates to his inner thoughts. "This particular line is obscure, it isn't even the whole passage, and it's not one of the more well known quotations used in essays and analysis of the play. There are much more memorable, prominent passages that could read much more clearly into giving you clues. There's much more obvious and accessible plays, for that matter." He chews on his lip for a beat, closing the book and looking at the author name printed there. "Sophocles is one of the only three tragedian playwrights of Ancient Greece who's plays survived to modern times. There's not a lot known about him except he was well educated and wealthy, and wrote one hundred and twenty-three plays. I can't help but think the meaning of the line, about things not being able to stay hidden from time, and the fact his plays survived the passage of time are connected somehow. There must be layers to this clue."

"Do any of those layers point us where we should go next?" Hotch inquires, taking in every word and mulling it over himself. "Maybe this has something to go with Ancient Greece? Or a Greek person? Or an academic person? Not everyone would know this line upon first glance like you."

"No, they wouldn't. Not unless they studied it very specifically," Dr. Reid agrees, nodding. "I think you might be right. The person you are looking for is in my field, or is helping whoever is trying to sell and smuggle this collection you're searching for."

"How many scholars and historians are there in D.C.?" Hotch asks, already dreading the answer. Dr. Reid's face goes a little drawn, but his eyes move back and forth quickly as if reading something in thin air. Calculating numbers in his head.

"Well over three thousand, not counting students at Georgetown and teaching assistants here on internships." Dr. Reid swallows hard, considering his calculations. "I could – probably narrow that down, a bit. To scholars of the Classics and Literature. We have many scholars in the District, Mr. Hotchner, but not all are as appreciative of the past and what it can hold for the present."

He tries not to shiver at the name again. No longer an unpleasant shiver, either, which makes the effect somehow worse for Hotch's situation. He needed to stay focused.

"Yes – you said not everyone would know this line. It's not a notable one. So it would take years for others to research and find this, but it only took you seconds," Hotch muses out loud, once again finding he's doing so as he traces the lines of the young doctor's face with his gaze. Was it possible that the person who sent him the box, the one who probably put the clue inside it (although he has no proof of this), meant for Hotch to go this route? The box itself is hundreds of years old, but the paper inside is not and the ink still looks fresh.

Maybe the message was truly meant not for him, but for Dr. Reid… and Hotch was merely meant to find him.

But to what end?

—

They return to their alcove, and Dr. Reid skims the books he'd left there previously. He has to be, he's flipping through the pages so fast the words seem a blur. Hotch almost wants to ask him how he's retaining any information that way, but by this point he trusts the other man's process and isn't sure if he should question him further. Not wanting to interrupt whatever is occurring here.

"I need to run some tests on the box and the paper," Dr. Reid says after a time, some books marked with little torn slips of paper and a litany of notes and numbers written in his notepad that are definitely meant for himself by the chicken-scratch lettering and shorthand. "And read into a few more sources that I have back at the Smithsonian in my laboratory. I –" he pauses, the books collected in his arms like a shield to protect him as he asks his next cautious question. "I was hoping you'd entrust me with the puzzle box, for the time being. So I can run my experiments and do more research for you."

Knowing the amount of money his benefactor was willing to pay for the collection, and the inkling they had for just what type of person would be on the lookout for it, Hotch finds himself inclined to agree. And trust. Dr. Spencer Reid isn't an easy man to read, but Hotch has spent a lot of time observing his face and mannerisms and has had a very intimate look into the man's mind the past couple hours. It might make him a fool for such a pretty face, but Hotch feels that he can trust the young doctor with this.

"That's a good idea. Some of the folks I need to talk to are in some shady areas, so I shouldn't be walking around with a priceless relic in my pocket." He means the comment in jest, but it catches and snags Dr. Reid's attention in a completely different way. He looks up with wide eyes and a worried expression.

"Will you be alright, going alone?" he asks, and seems to immediately know how it sounds. It's not as if Dr. Reid is in any way an intimidating presence to help back Hotch up when he does his questioning. But the sentiment is well felt, warms Hotch's chest and eases that smile back onto his face where it dimples one cheek handsomely.

"I'll be alright. All part of the job." He steps back up to the man, right in his personal space, and Dr. Reid doesn't flinch back this time. The scent of dust and worn leather and roasted coffee hang in light, fragrant traces about him. Clean skin and sun-beam warmed hair. The wool of his vest, the spice of his soap. It's an aroma that would be easy to sink into. But instead, Hotch reaches for the man's satchel and puts the wood and brass box containing the puzzle within it. Securing it on the man's shoulder for him, before speaking low and just in the space between them. "Keep it out of sight, and don't ask any of your colleagues about it until I return. We don't know who we can trust with it, or how much this collection may be worth to someone else."

Dr. Reid nods in understanding, Hotch so close he can feel the gesture as much as see it. "I'll see you soon?"

"Tonight," Hotch agrees, hoping he won't be breaking that vow. "Tomorrow morning, at the latest. It depends what I find, and… if I'm followed." He couldn't be the only one looking for this collection, and sooner or later he would end up crossing paths with them when he really starts snooping around.

"Be careful," Dr. Reid asks of him, serious as can be, and Hotch tries not to smile too fondly at that.

"I'm not going anywhere yet, leave me on my own and I'll be wandering around this place for days trying to get out," he says, to ease a smile back onto the younger man's face. "Lead on, Doctor. Without you, I'm sure to lose my way."

It sounds more charming than he meant it to be, but it's worth it for the way Dr. Reid regards him then. Those warm, bright eyes gone even warmer – to the point of simmering.

"I have faith in you," he confides, and if Hotch had been a weaker man… he would have fallen prey to the coy shyness that calls to him like a siren song.

Oh, this Dr. Reid was going to be trouble for him.

—

tbc…

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Tagged list so far: @physics-magic @thaddeusly @sideblogforcrimpy

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#I'm attempting to add links for prev and next chapters! We will see how this goes #what??? Another update in less than a week? Not me #I'm just having too much fun with this honestly #thank you everyone who has been reading so far!#The Construct of Time #HotchReid #Heid #katyswriting

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spacedikut · 4 years ago

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throwback ; spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid (criminal minds) x reader

summary: you see a picture of young spencer and find him way too attractive. 1306 words

a/n: the gif is the spencer im talking abt btw

When you step into the bullpen, after delivering files to Hotch, everything is in a state of chaos. Well, compared to what it usually is.

“Y/N! You need to see this!”

JJ waves you over to Morgan’s desk, where Emily is already giggling as Rossi grins, arms crossed. You instinctively look to Spencer’s desk, and his head is resting on a stack of files. You have no idea what’s happening.

Morgan’s chuckling when you approach and peak to look at what’s showing on his monitor. It’s a series of pictures, ones you’ve never seen before, and you immediately notice that you’re not in any of them. So these were taken before you joined the BAU?

Morgan, still chuckling, moves the mouse to enlarge a picture in the far right. The second it opens and you realise who it is, you gasp.

“Spencer?! Is that you?!”

Spencer groans from his desk. The picture, that you assume was taken by press during a case, is perfect quality, so you see every detail. Spencer’s hair is parted at the side and slicked, giving him side-swooping bangs that you never would’ve thought looked good until you saw it on him. He’s wearing a sweater vest, obviously, which combined with his seemingly too big grey jacket makes him look like he’s wearing his grandfather’s clothes.

The most important part is his glasses.

You’ve seen Spencer in glasses several times. There’s been abrupt early starts that mean he hasn’t had time to shove contact lenses in, and several occasions when you’ve stayed over one another’s place that he’s either gotten irritated with his lenses and swapped them for his glasses in exasperation, or when he’s simply forgotten to wear his lenses.

But the glasses combined with the hair and the pure, almost naïve aura radiating off him from the picture is electrifying.

He looks like a teacher’s assistant. One you’d have the biggest crush on.

You giggle when Spencer doesn’t lift his head and amble your way towards him, “You were awfully cute, Spencer.”

He glances up and his eyes peek up at you. “I looked like a nerd.”

“Some say you still do.” Emily pipes up.

There’s a laugh from everyone at her comment, but you’re still staring at Spencer. He looks a little embarrassed, definitely shy, then you realise he’s still looking at you, too. With rosy cheeks, you raise your eyebrows.

“When was that taken?”

Spencer shrugs, but you know he knows the precise date, “A good few years before you joined the team. It was one of my first cases with the BAU, and my mom printed the picture out to frame it.”

Your jaw drops in excitement at the revelation and Morgan claps once, “She must’ve been so proud! Her baby boy a real agent-“

Spencer’s attention sways to Morgan, “God, where did Garcia even find those pictures?! They’re so old and-“

“I’m sad I never got to see that Spencer in real life.” You say quietly.

That catches Spencer’s attention and, with doe eyes, he asks, “Really?”

“Yeah! I can’t believe I missed that version of you.” You scrunch your nose at the thought, “If only I graduated earlier…”

A new case comes in, then, and as you drop some things off at your desk before heading to the conference room, Spencer can’t help but warmly stare at you, an idea brewing.

***

The case is done and dusted, unsub arrested and few lives taken as possible within record time. This means everyone in the BAU is ecstatic; Hotch got to take a whole day off to spend with Jack, JJ went somewhere cute with Will and Henry, and Emily did whatever Emily does. Everyone was undeniably refreshed and rejuvenated after being given two days off (two!!) and you’re still riding the high of completing a thousand piece puzzle. It’s the little things, okay?

You would’ve spent the time off with Spencer, but he was “otherwise occupied”, which you have no idea what that meant and still don’t. You intend to pester him for details when he gets into work.

You don’t have to wait for his arrival for long.

You’re in the kitchen, gently blowing on the coffee you just poured into the I-heart-Texas mug Spencer once bought you (you’re a sucker for tacky tourist gifts) when you hear shuffling behind you. You turn, lips still puckered to blow air on the steaming liquid, and you choke on your breath.

Are you hallucinating?

Listen, you don’t really want to admit you’ve spent an alarming amount of time thinking about fresh-faced Spencer Reid when he first joined the BAU, but you have. Garcia sent a team-wide email with all of the pictures, and you couldn’t help but take another look (an understatement) – you just… can’t get over how adorable he was. Is. He’s still heart-achingly adorable.

But maybe you should admit to exactly how many times you looked at the photos, cause baby-faced Spencer Reid with his sweater vest, slicked hair and stylish glasses is giving you a tight-lipped smile and small wave from the kitchen entrance.

“Whoa.” Is all you can say.

Spencer, one had in his trousers pocket and the other scratching the back of his head, shyly says, “Surprise?”

The coffee cup makes a distinct thunk as you place it on the kitchen counter due to the deafening silence between you two. You’re looking him up and down, effectively checking him out, and Spencer feels this burn inside of him – it starts from his stomach and ignites outwards, up through his lungs and heart to the tips of his fingers, his ears, and the apples of his cheeks.

You’re checking him out. You’re speechless. Spencer’s glad he spent the entirety of his time off trying to perfectly re-create his early years look just for you.

“You like it?” He glances down at his attire, nudging his glasses up his nose when they slide down.

YES!

“Yeah, I-“ You give an airy laugh at your inability to form sentences, “You haven’t aged a day, huh?”

“Actually, humans start to age as soon as they reach adulthood, which is typically about twenty-five years old. So I’ve been aging for nearly three years now.”

You’re still staring in awe and the burn Spencer feels hasn’t lessened, “It’s a good look for you, Spence. I would’ve totally had a crush on you if you went to my college.”

The words come out nonchalantly but you regret them instantly – you just told him he looks the exact same and then that you’d have a crush on him if he went to your college.. it doesn’t take a genius to pick up what you’re putting down, right?

Spencer bites his lip. With the way you’re looking at him, he gets a rush of adrenaline and boldly asks, “What about now?”

“Huh?”

“Would you have a crush on me now?”

Your eyes widen and Spencer almost feels rejected, but the smile you’re fighting reassures him. “Do you want me to?”

Spencer almost scoffs and says of course, “I-I would like that. Yes.”

“Good,” You nod, “We could… discuss this in more detail tonight? If you’re not busy?”

“I am not busy tonight. Seven o’clock?” He suggests with a shy smile.

Spencer’s almost bouncing off the walls. You’re struggling to contain your own excitement – you need to leave so you can go scream with Garcia.

“Seven is great. Keep the look.” You give him another head-to-toe survey, and it pains you to pick up your coffee and move to leave the kitchen.

All Spencer can do is nod and beam when you walk away. He falls back, stabilising himself on the counter behind him. He has to take a deep breath to ground himself.

Holy hell, he thinks. If you look at him like that one more time, he might faint.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fic #mine #the ending SUCKS because i didn't know what to do

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definitelynotkatesblog · 4 years ago

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Illustrated Man l Spencer Reid Fic

Pairing: Reader x Spencer Reid

Category: Fluff

Summary: Spencer comes home from a particularly difficult case, and begins to doubt himself. Reader helps him unwind and helps paint a picture of all the great things about him.

A/N: Helloooooooo friends! Yet again, I thought of a single line of dialogue I really wanted to make work so I spit a thousand words around it to bring it to life lol. Anyways! This fic is free of reader pronouns and gender identifiers, so anyone can read this and make the “I”‘a their own ☺️

P.S. I’ll see what I can do about not disappearing again for weeks on end, but I make no promises

Content warning: None! Except Spencer has his shirt off? But that’s it!

WC: 2.4k

The sound of the door clicking shut and Spencer vacating his lungs of all air drew my head up from my book.

“You’re home!” I cheered, closing my book and getting up to greet him.

He lifted his satchel over his head and gave me a small smile that didn’t touch his eyes. I nodded, mostly to myself, knowing that this meant the case was harder than most. On nights like this, Spencer was hard to reach. I padded my way across the living room and wrapped my arms around him like he might slip away if I didn’t hold him tight enough.

I pulled his head down to rest on my shoulder as his arms snaked around me, wrapping himself in me, too. We stayed like that a while until he stood up and cupped my cheeks in his hands, bringing my face up for a kiss.

‘Hi,” he said softly.

I smiled into his palms. “Hi.”

I took his hands in mine and kissed his knuckles, then led him to our bedroom to get him out of his work clothes. I helped him out of his cardigan and dress shirt, then left him to do the rest while I got him some water. When I returned, he was laying face down across the bed in a pair of sweatpants. His head rested on his crossed arms, and turned to face me when I laid next to him on the bed. I propped my head up one arm and gave him a half smile.

“Do you want to tell me about it?”

He thought for a moment before giving me a recap of the case, leaving out the gruesome details. I listened and ran my fingers across his back, alternating scratches with swirling patterns on the soft skin. Sometimes my hand would find itself at the nape of his neck and work through the hair there.

As he spoke, his voice became more resolved and tired. He worked so hard, but the things he saw, the things this job had put him through weighed on him. He was strong and incredibly smart, but just because he carried it well didn’t mean the load wasn’t heavy.

I took a deep breath and spoke gently, not wanting to offend him. “Maybe you can take some time off?” I suggested.

He shook his head, his chin brushing his hands folded under his chin.

“The team needs me. These victims and their families need me.”

I bit my tongue. I needed him, too. But this was hardly the time to bring that up.

“But this job,” he paused for a moment before continuing, “It takes pieces of me I can’t get back, and I’m scared all I am is the parts I’ve managed to pick up off of the ground.”

I closed my eyes and wished away the tears forming in my eyes. I heard him take a deep breath but he didn’t say anything else.

“I have an idea. Stay there.”

His head lifted and his eyes followed me around the room to our closet where my painting supplied resided.

“I’m going to paint you.”

“Paint me?”

I turned around, a towel in one hand and my box of paints and brushes in the other. “Yes. You’re gonna lay here and talk to me about anything in the world and I’m going to paint you.”

His eyes scanned the contents of my hands. I could see the gears in his head turning for a moment before he shrugged and gave a small nod.

“Okay.”

I ran a hand through his hair and bent down to kiss his forehead before climbing on the bed and straddling his thighs, setting my supplies on the towel beside us. “Talk to me.”

His head cocked to the side as he contemplated his answer.

“Not about work,” I clarified.

I felt his laugh beneath me. “Okay then, what would you like me to tell you about?”

I tapped my bottom lip with the handle of my paintbrush. “Hmmm. Read any good books lately?”

I could feel his smile without seeing it. If there was one thing Spencer loved more than saving lives and doing crossword puzzles in pen, it was reading. “I revisited some Ray Bradbury on the plane home,” he said.

“Mmm, tell me about it.”

He took a deep breath beneath me and began. “I re-read The Illustrated Man. It’s a compilation of short stories told through interactions between an omniscient narrator and a man covered in tattoos that each tell tales of events that have not happened yet. The tattoos are magic, and they come alive to tell the stories they depict. The stories are mostly science fiction, but have elements of pretty universal truths that Bradbury is famous for addressing.

For example, in one story explores the deep seeded longing of one man to take a trip to outer space. Something that, in this story, is attaintanable. He works his whole life to be able to fulfill this yearning, but he is torn between going or staying with his family, whom he also loves. It begs the question of the existence of duality of desire and duty.

Then, in another, there’s this incessant rain. And this group of men are searching for cover and sunshine, but it’s wearing them down and breaking them. These small raindrops, just water, becomes torture. It’s interesting how something as small as raindrops can break both canyons and men.”

I listen as he tells me about each story behind the man’s tattoos, about how they’re all different but important and lend themselves to portraying the then-futuristic perception world around us. Sometimes, his voice gets sad at the implications of the stories, but other times he seems to appreciate the sentiment behind them.

I dip my brushes and admire the way they drag across his soft skin, leaving a wake of vibrant pigments behind. I hmm and ahhh at appropriate times, partially paying attention but mostly glad that he’s able to enjoy himself and is able to think of something other than the darkness in his world.

We stayed in our respective positions for the better part of an hour- him laying on the bed with his head on his hands while I straddled the back of his thighs, stroking brushes across the lines of his back.

When I’m finally finished, I roll my neck and place my hands on the small of his back, taking a moment to take it in. The idea of creating a universe compelled me; there was so much beauty and so much unknown in the expanse of space. The concept seemed fitting for what I hoped to help him understand. I’d mixed a navy blue paint for a base, and created swirls of light with yellows, creams, and whites to create a brighter contrast and background for the more intricate featured parts. One section had books, a coffee cup, a molecular model I’d hoped was an actual chemical, and a small red apple.

The next was a canyon, modeled after one of the scenic drives we’d taken the last time we visited Vegas to see his mom at her new care facility. We parked at a lookout spot and watched the sun set- gorgeous oranges, yellows, and pinks painted the sky over the rock. It was at that moment I’d never been more jealous of Spencer’s perfect memory.

Another section, closer to the bottom curve of his spine was a silhouette outline of the Christmas card the team had sent out two years ago. Spencer had a copy hanging by a CalTech magnet on the fridge, another on his desk, and a folded and fading copy in his wallet.

He loved that photo – the way it captured their joyous spirits and ability to be carefree despite the things that initially brought them together.

I took a deep breath and playfully patted his bottom. “All done!”

He threw a boyish grin over his shoulder and handed me his phone.

I snapped a few pictures, holding the phone up by my chin to capture the expanse of his back, then a bit closer to the individual parts. I passed the phone back over his shoulder and brought my clasped hands up under my chin. “Okay, so, if you don’t like it, that’s okay you can wash-” I rushed, but stopped short when I felt his breath hitch from underneath me.

He was silent for a moment, staring at the phone in his hand.

I took a deep breath. “Spencer, you contain multitudes. You’re a loving son, an amazing friend, a brilliant profiler, a great cat-sitter, an instant mashed potato extraordinaire, and my favorite boyfriend.”

I dusted an invisible speck of dust off his shoulder before continuing, giving my words a moment to sink in. I needed him to hear me, and to know these truths. “You are so much more than the things you don’t love about yourself. You are more than this job, you are more than the obstacles you’ve had to overcome. They’re a part of who you are, yeah, but they’re not all that you are.”

I shook my head, though he couldn’t see it. The knowledge of the man beneath me not knowing he was deeply loved seemed so wrong.

“You are so incredibly loved, Spencer. The people in your life are so lucky to know you and to be loved by you. Each and every one of your friends is changed and is better for having known you, believe me.”

He was silent for a short while, pinching and zooming in on the screen to see the different parts of him illustrated in his skin. He cleared his throat a few times. Part of me was grateful I couldn’t see his face, and he couldn’t seem mine. Though, I didn’t need to see the way his mind was working to know he was trying to find a flaw in my logic.

The amount of love I had for the man beneath me threatened to spill over in the form of tears.

“Favorite boyfriend?” he asked finally, feigning insult.

I laughed. “So far, yeah.”

I knew that wasn’t the only thing he’d heard, but probably was the only thing he could bring himself to comment on.

I scrambled off of my perch unceremoniously, stretching for a moment before straightening up and offering my hand. He laid with his chin resting on his fists stacked, staring at me for a moment.

“What?” I asked with a small huff.

“Being loved by you is one of the greatest joys of my life.”

I felt my mouth pop open, a bit taken aback at such a bold admission. A sweet smile touched his lips while he watched me try to scoop my heart back into my chest. He climbed off the bed gingerly, careful not to rock the tray of paint and brushes with his long limbs.

His large hand wrapping around mine grounded me from cloud nine and I could feel the smile forming on my lips. I turned and started heading towards the bathroom.

“Come,” I said, pulling him along behind me.

When we arrived in the small room, I halted and spun him so the back of his thighs were resting against the porcelain countertop and I was flush against his front. My hands came to rest on the edges of the countertop, caging him between my arms. I looked up at him, squinting slightly.

“I’d like to take a picture, is that okay?”

I knew Spencer was wary of having his picture taken; most of our pictures together were candids I’d puppy eyed my way into him letting me keep.

He narrowed his eyes back at me. My lower lip made an appearance, coupled with a knitted brow and cautious look from under my lashes.

He laughed and shook his head. “Okay.”

Before he could change his mind, I grabbed my phone and rushed back to my place in front of him, pressing my front to his.

I snaked my arms around his torso so our chests were together while his back bearing my painting faced the mirror. My arms poking out from between his arm and torso space made him look like an alien, but placing one hand on his hip while the other held my phone gave the pose a more artistic feel.

I snapped a few pictures, messing with the lighting and exposure, playing with shadows from the vanity and positioning him every which way. Every once in a while, I’d pull my arms from him and show him a few shots I liked but they never felt like the one.

He smiled and nodded encouragingly, taking my direction to tilt this way or arch his shoulder that way. I started to feel for him, we’d been there for 15 minutes at least.

I pouted and let my head fall back dramatically. “I give up,” I whined.

He gave a small smile and leaned down to kiss me. I met his lips with a smile of my own before resting my head against his chest.

“Try one more time,” he encouraged.

I nodded and wrapped my arms around him again. I poked my head out so it was just visible behind his arm, resting my chin on his bicep as I focused my phone camera to capture the two of us and my work on his back.

“Smile,” I said before snapping a few shots. Spencer’s body shook with his laugh as he leaned down to press a kiss to the top of my head. My thumb grazed the shutter button, capturing the moment.

It was perfect.

His back was illuminated perfectly by the soft glow of the vanity mirror lighting, the muscles in his back tensed when he bent down, creating dips and curves that separated the focus points brilliantly. My hand wasn’t posed, just gently resting on his hip, a soft touch that lent itself perfectly to the lightness of the moment.

I pulled myself from around him and held the phone between us. His hand found the small of my back and he pulled me closer to him, sealing our lips together. Our lips were unhurried, enjoying the softness of the moment and the love between us. His free hand cupped my cheek as we broke apart. His eyes bore into mine, both pairs slightly glossy.

“Thank you,” he said softly.

I nodded and buried my head into his chest so he wouldn’t see the fresh tears springing in my eyes. His arms wrapped around me as he pressed more kisses to the top of my head.

——

Let’s talk about it!

#criminal minds #criminal minds fan fic #criminal minds fan fiction #spencer reid #Spencer Reid fluff #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid x reader #Spencer Reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #gn reader #criminal minds self insert #Spencer Reid gif #criminal minds gif #my writing

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ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff · 4 years ago

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Romanticise Yourself (Spencer Reid x Male! Reader) NSFW

Summary: Y/N spends a little time affirming his love for his boyfriend Spencer. Spencer returns the favour

AN: Part Two of Get A Hairband or Get A Haircut but can be read as a oneshot! This is smut so do not read if you aren’t 18+!

Word count: 1.8k

Content warnings: Blowjobs, hair pulling, praise kink, minor face fucking

Part 1 // Masterlist

Y/N set the sauce to simmer and leant with his back to the counter in favour of watching Spencer reading at the dinner table. His middle and ring finger stroked down the page of the book. It had just been bought for him, by Y/N at the museum gift shop, after a long day of thoroughly enjoying the new geology exhibit. The rest of the fingers hovered slightly above the paper.

“Spencer, how do you see yourself?”

“With my eyes and a mirror.”

“Har har,” Y/N threw his head back to emphasise his sarcasm, “Tell me, go on. What do you think of yourself?”

Spencer took his eyes off the book, “What do you mean?”

“When you think about yourself, what do you think of? How do you describe yourself?” Y/N explained, and Spencer closed the book over, his middle finger trapped in the pages as he gave his attention instead to this question.

“I see an agent in the FBI’s BAU. I have an eidetic memory, three PhD's in Chemistry, Engineering, and Mathematics. I see someone with a tie that is never straight but then again neither am I-”

He paused for Y/N to let out a snort.

“-I see someone who probably should get a haircut. Why do you ask?”

“Just trying to compare some data.”

Raising an eyebrow and the left corner of his mouth, Spencer asked amused, “And this data, is it what you think of me?”

“Yes.”

“Would you mind sharing your findings with me?”

“Of course,” Y/N’s chin sat on Spencer’s hair, the short stray ones tickling his neck. Suddenly inspired, he began a three-strand braid along the side of Spencer’s head while he delivered his findings.

“I see an agent with unyielding loyalty for his team, his family, with incredible abilities he uses every day to save lives. A son who makes his mother more than proud. A wonderful godfather who’s going to be there for his godson for whatever he needs. A brilliant boyfriend who’s drop dead gorgeous.”

“That’s how you see me?” Spencer looked up at Y/N. His bashful expression only endeared Y/N to use his words more often.

“There’s more but I’d need some time to put them into words, and even then, I couldn’t promise to capture the true extent of how much I love you.”

“You should have been a poet,” Spencer hummed as Y/N brushed a few hairs from his face, “I would have enjoyed listening to my mom read them to me.”

The sauce bubbling finally succeeded in tearing Y/N’s attention away from Spencer. The twisted braid was already falling out, Spencer’s hair stretching out of it. Y/N kissed it before heading back to check on dinner. It wasn’t even a minute before he heard Spencer walk up behind him, free arm around his waist, kissing his cheek

“What do you want?” Y/N asked with playful suspicion.

“I want,” Spencer paused to kiss below Y/N’s ear, “To show you the same appreciation you show me.”

“I’m already feeling it, the way you tore yourself from that book.”

“You’re so much more important than any book.”

“Thanks, baby.” There was not an ounce of sarcasm in that statement, just affection in Spencer’s compliment, and Y/N received another kiss on the cheek as reward. It was a spot lower than before, at the corner of his jaw.

Y/N’s grin widened as he said in a sing-song voice, “Spencer, I’m cooking.”

“You’re nearly finished,” Spencer mumbled into their ear, and Y/N felt him lean his weight on his good leg, “I bet you knew exactly what you were doing.”

Shrugging, Y/N turned off the hob’s gas.

“So, you’re not denying it then?”

“Why would I? You love being praised; I love praising you,” and Y/N turned in Spencer’s arm, “Like two pieces of a puzzle.”

He kissed Spencer’s lips. Paprika tickled his nose, blending with the memory of the mint imperial he’d crunched down on upon their return home. Spencer cradled his face and his waist with those long delicate fingers of his stretching across to touch as much of Y/N as possible. Y/N felt those fingers meet in his back to nimbly untie his apron. Breaking the kiss only to pull it over Y/N’s head, the apron was abandoned on the way to the bedroom.

Spencer’s heart sang out as Y/N moaned against his lips. His cane clattered on the tiles, forgotten. Stripping each other down, so caught in each other’s reckless abandon, they didn’t care where their clothes ended up.

Swiping a scrunchie – the green one - from the chest of drawers, Spencer quickly knotted his hair half up half down. His hand readily returned to Y/N’s body and brought him down onto their bed.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, Spencer.”

“Now, now, This isn’t about me.”

Little liar, but Y/N didn’t let on, his mind already distracted by the hint of scruff scratching his thigh, “God!”

“It’s just me.”

“You’ve said that so many times!”

Y/N giggled, breaking up his sighs. It didn’t matter how many times Spencer made that joke. It was still funny. Between that and the giddy sensation of Spencer’s lips, Y/N was helpless. He spared a glance down, immediately rewarded with the sight of Spencer’s tongue lapping at the dark head of his cock. Then his lips wrapped around his cock, sliding up and down in their pink plumpness.

Y/N grabbed Spencer’s bun, his pinky finger catching the loose hair that fell down his neck, and he tugged it in his fist. He was rewarded with a deep groan from Spencer that buzzed through his body.

God, this was so just as much about him as it was about Y/N.

“Stop profiling me.” Spencer warned as his mouth came away from Y/N, “That’s my job.”

“I was just thinking,” Y/N defended quickly, his breath erratic as he continued with his so-called tough talk, “Clearly you’re not doing a good enough job if I can think and speak while you’re sucking me off.”

“Is that right?”

The moment Spencer returned to his boyfriend’s cock, he was sucking harder, like he’d been saving his energy for a twist in their usual routine. His new method of torture was deepthroating and not in the way Y/N would often fuck his face. He would stop and just hold Y/N’s cock entirely in his mouth, keeping him on edge with his nose pressed against the base where tiny hairs coiled, before releasing him. In the shadow of their room, Spencer’s eyes watered, but he craved that burn that came with Y/N’s taste.

“Fuck, Spencer.”

His body writhed in the unbearable heat. Instinctively, his hand grabbed at the scrunchie in Spencer’s and pulled it, slipped onto his wrist before he fisted at the curls now set loose. Tiny stray hairs tickle at his thighs, his hips jerking or trying to under Spencer’s firm grip.

“Baby, you’re so good to me,” and both Spencer and Y/N were caught off guard by the sudden change in volume and pitch as Y/N’s voice caught in his throat.

Spencer turned his head and his cheek swelled as the head of Y/N’s cock pressed against it. Y/N hands grabbed tighter at Spencer’s hair, his legs clamping around him, humping his head and pushing his cock further into Spencer’s willing mouth. Finally, he came with a long sigh and his fingers twisting in Spencer’s hair. Spencer, ever the diligent lover, kept his mouth on Y/N’s cock until after he was twitching with overstimulation.

Spit and semen glistened around Spencer’s lips. His tongue dipped against his bottom lips and dragged it into his mouth. From the bedside table’s drawer, Spencer grabbed the packet of tissues. He mopped up Y/N’s stomach while he lay still – besides the occasional twitch when Spencer brushed past his cock.

Spencer dropped his head onto Y/N’s chest and kissed the spot where his lips had landed. That kiss brought Y/N back to his body. With a contented hum, he dragged his fingers through Spencer’s hair, eventually beginning a braid. He slipped the green scrunchie off his wrist and tied up Spencer’s hair. The braid stayed intact, little baby hairs sticking out around his head in a fuzzy mane.

“You look pretty as a princess.”

“Not sure I’m the princess in this situation.”

With a snort, Y/N pouted and slapped Spencer pathetically on the shoulder, knowing full well Spencer was right. Then he pushed himself up onto his elbow to ask:

“Are you going to let me take care of you?”

“Uh,” Spencer licked his lips and glanced down to the end of the bed, “No need.”

Following his boyfriend’s gaze, Y/N tilted his head to the right at the sight of the stains on the crumpled duvet, then he looked back up.

“I didn’t even have to touch you. Oh, baby.”

Spencer let out a little giggle that was crafted of pure embarrassment, but it cut off with a grunt. Y/N instantly had Spencer lay down on his back, all the pressure off his leg despite Spencer insisting that he was fine. Ever the distraction, Y/N leant over and kissed his boyfriend’s lips silly, over and over, short and sweet, punctuating each one with an “I love you”. Y/N crossed over Spencer’s face and kissed as he went. When he reached his neck, laughter caught up to him, drowning his confessions of love with Spencer’s mirth in return.

“Oh, I love you!” Y/N cried out joyfully, pulling away to see Spencer’s face creased with the most gorgeous smile.

Spencer exhaled, “I love you too.”

They lay down next to each other again, Spencer’s head turned to the right to make way for the new bun,. Y/N wrapped around Spencer, put him at the centre of their attention. He closed his hand apart from his forefinger, which he drew down Spencer’s braid, along the line of his cheekbone to the corner of his mouth.

“I wish I was more eloquent like you,” Spencer spoke quietly. The inside of his bottom lip caught on Y/N’s finger

“Did you not just hear me say only three words for the last minute?”

He huffed, “You have your way with them. You always know what to say to make me feel right.”

He kissed Y/N’s fingertip and watched it as Y/N placed it between his eyebrows before he dragged it down his nose, tapping the end lightly. As if to transfer the kiss back to Y/N, Spencer bumped his nose against Y/N’s.

“We should probably have dinner soon, right?” Y/N mumbled, his breath warm against Spencer’s face.

“Let me have you here for a bit longer.”

Spencer spoke with a soft lilt, the energy he’d put into their time together wearing him down. Y/N knew the risks with staying in bed at this point. If they didn’t get up soon, they’d never leave. Spencer would stay at his side for the next twelve hours, they would fuck when they had recharged, and they would maybe rise if nature called – returning to each other’s arms shortly thereafter.

Y/N pecked Spencer’s lips one more time before snuggling up to his side, “I’ll give you anything you want, Spencer.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x male reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid smut #criminal minds #criminal minds smut #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfic #my writing #wc: 1k+#smut #r: male

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goldentournesol · 4 years ago

Text

Proper Date

(Spencer Reid x Reader)

The one where Spencer and Y/N go on a proper date after being kidnapped together.

Part 2 of Unwanted Matchmaker: Read Part 1 here :)

A/N: makes minor references to Part 1, but can be read without reading it. ENJOY SOME SPENCER FLUFF! i got a little carried away...but it’s worth it! thank you to @theamuz , @andiebeaword , @yourwonderbelle for requesting a part 2!

Length: 2.5k

masterlist

Luckily enough, Friday came sooner than Spencer had thought it would. He was finally able to take a break from the team. Y/N had texted him Friday morning to confirm the date. She hadn’t stopped thinking about him for a single moment ever since they went their separate ways the day of the fateful kidnapping. She never thought she’d ever be thankful for such a situation.

She was nervous, she knew very little about the Dr., but had gathered bits and pieces of him on the days she saw him at that coffee shop. She thought he was gorgeous. She also thought she may have imagined it when she caught his eyes lingering on her once or twice, but the imagination became set in stone when his face broke into what seemed like the most adorable shy smile that could possibly appear on someone’s face. She should have talked to him then, but she would have been late to her class. She couldn’t have been more glad to go on a date with him.

Spencer had gotten off work two hours early to ensure he had enough time to be nervous while getting ready.

“Woah, where you goin’, pretty boy?” Morgan asked as he watched Spencer begin to pack his things.

Spencer rolled his eyes, he should have timed his exit better, “Uh...I have an appointment?” He made an attempt to lie.

“You always this nervous going to appointments?” Emily chimed in.

“Wait, wait, what day is it?” Morgan asked.

“Friday.” Emily replied.

A knowing smile made a home on Morgan’s face, “Aha! Pretty boy’s got a date!” Spencer quickly shot him a look that screamed, ‘how did you know?!’, “I may have overheard you talking to the girl the day the unsub took you.”

Once again, Spencer rolled his eyes, “My God, can’t I have just one thing to myself? Just once?” He tried to hide his smile though.

“Nu-uh, not when it’s making you this nervous!” Emily pointed out, noticing how Spencer’s hand was turning white at the intensity it held onto his bag.

“Well, Emily, it’s not every day that I have a date with someone who is practically the embodiment of beauty.” Spencer uttered with a slew of exasperated hand motions.

Morgan let out a chuckle, “Calm down, kid. She seemed really into you. I’m sure she’s just as dorky as you are.” Emily smiled endearingly at the youngest member of their team and nodded.

“Yeah, haven’t you guys been in contact like..all week? She wouldn’t have done that if she wasn’t interested.” She added and noticed the slight drop of Spencer’s shoulders. Maybe they were right, he probably had nothing to worry about. He nodded and began to smile.

“Go get her, kid. Just try to keep the statistics at a minimum.” He joked around before Emily interjected quickly, “No! Be yourself!” Spencer laughed and gave them a double thumbs up before quickly saying goodbye and heading home.

He called the restaurant to double check his reservation and tried to pick out an outfit that wouldn’t scream, ‘I got off work two hours early’. He showered, shaved, and attempted to style his hair, but it was too much of a task to tackle, so he left it to do whatever it pleased. He decided he’d stick to his normal attire with a white and blue checkered button down, a navy v-neck sweater and a matching blazer to elevate the look. He contemplated whether or not a tie would make the outfit over the top, but then remembered that the restaurant would be quite fancy and added it anyway. He left his house a half hour early to make sure he had enough time to pick up a bouquet. That was romantic, right? People do this all the time, right? He took a deep breath and reminded himself to stop stressing. He decided to get her red flowers to match the dress she wore when he first saw her. She was wearing a white dress with a motif of small red flowers with black centers, it was safe to say she blew him away that day.

He checked the time and saw that it was still early, so he texted her. They had agreed on meeting at the restaurant, but he just couldn’t wait to see her.

“Hey, would it be okay if I picked you up instead of meeting there?” She lived closer to the restaurant anyway and he wanted to ensure her safety any time he possibly could.

“Yeah, sure! I’ll send you the location.” She did just that and Spencer made it there on time, of course.

He took a deep breath as he stood at her doorstep with the bouquet of flowers. He gave himself a miniature pep talk and knocked on the door three times. Spencer hoped the knocks were louder than his heartbeats beating relentlessly in his ears.

Y/N’s heart leapt as she heard the knocks, “Coming! Just one second!” She made her way over to the door, struggling to put in one of her earrings.

She opened the door for him, “I’m sorry, I’m almost rea-” She breath caught in her throat as she took in the sight of him. She admired his every angle, he looked immaculate to say the least. She’d only noticed that she dropped her earring on the floor because she followed his eyes to where it lay.

“You..um, dropped your..” He stuttered, turning red. Was it him who made her nervous? She laughed nervously and retrieved it quickly, putting it on. He cleared his throat to try to regain his composure from seeing her, “You look...stunning.” He let out a breath and shook his head as if to clear the fog in his brain that she unintentionally created, “Oh! Um, and these are for you!” He extended the arm holding the bouquet.

She smiled and accepted them graciously, “Oh, these are beautiful, you didn’t have to trouble yourself, Dr. Reid.” He loved the way his name sounded coming from her.

“It was nothing, really, it’s the least I could do, and please, call me Spencer.” He smiled and she mirrored it instantly.

“Come in, Spencer. I’ll put these in a vase, put on my shoes, and we’ll head right out!” He watched her as she disappeared into her apartment.

A sparkly, form-fitting black dress adorned her figure contrasting to the flowy nature of the dresses Spencer had usually seen her in. He tried not to profile her apartment as much as he could, but he was too curious not to. He saw unfinished canvases and the apartment smelled vaguely of paint thinner. He admired her paintings but also tried not to snoop. She came out of her room, completely ready, and saw him staring at her paintings.

“Uhm, those aren’t quite done yet.” She stated shyly, “I have a habit of getting sidetracked.” She giggled and gestured to her unfinished paintings.

He smiled as he turned to her, “I’m sorry, I didn't mean to poke around.” He stated quickly but she just smiled at him, “These are incredible, I don’t believe I have a single artistic bone in my body.” He laughed.

“Yeah, right! That can’t be true.” She teased.

Spencer grinned and checked the time, “Are you all done? We should get going. I hope you don’t mind walking there.” She nodded and they made their way out. The restaurant was a short walk away and the whole time Spencer fiddled with his hands in his pockets nervously except for when he was describing something, a habit he had. They arrived at the restaurant.

“Good evening, reservation for Dr. Reid.” Spencer said and Y/N hated the way her stomach went into a fit of somersaults at that. That was a lie, she kind of loved it.

They were seated and they could finally make uninterrupted eye-contact. She smiled at him and Spencer hoped his swooning wasn’t too obvious. They ordered their food and made conversation as they waited.

“So, Spencer, how did you get into the FBI?” She asked as she propped her chin on her hand. Her gaze was enough to send Spencer into the next dimension.

“Believe it or not, I’m unbelievably athletic.” He joked and she bubbled with laughter. Spencer couldn’t take his eyes off her as she laughed, determined to never stop her from doing it, “seriously,” he continued, “they took one look at me at the academy and were like, yeah we need this dude chasing down bad guys immediately!” She laughed again and shook her head.

“Aw, come on, don’t bring yourself down!” She smiled wide and took one of his hands that were resting on the table. Spencer’s heart soared at the action and was glad it was different from the way it felt as she clutched his hand when they were kidnapped together.

“I guess the FBI needed me because well...serial killers and criminals often have a tendency to create puzzles that are seemingly impossible to crack, and I just so happen to be very good at cracking those puzzles. I usually do that by analyzing their behavior. I work for the Behavioral Analysis Unit.” She could tell he was being humble, but she couldn’t help but be impressed.

“Aren’t you a Doctor? I’m assuming PhD?” She saw him blush.

“Uh, three actually.” He looked off to the side bashfully. Her jaw dropped at his humility, but he just smiled, “In Mathematics, Chemistry, and Engineering…” he paused, “as well as degrees in Psychology and Sociology.” She laughed in somewhat of a shock. Spencer knew his credentials were impressive but for some reason her validation seemed so important to him.

“What….how? How old are you?” She gawked.

He laughed, “I’m 30. I graduated high school at the age of 12. I have an IQ of 187 and can read 20,000 words per minute. I have an eidetic memory which basically means I can remember lots of information accompanied by the ability to recall things with accuracy which of course came in handy while I was getting those PhD’s…”

“Wow...” was all she could say, she suddenly felt insignificant, but her smile never faltered. He had no intention of making her feel that way and she knew that, but she had no idea how she possibly landed a date with a...genius.

“Yeah...it kind of overwhelms people, I hope you’re not too intimidated.” He laughed shyly. She giggled, how could she be when his awkwardness made him oh so endearing.

“I’m not gonna lie, it’s a little intimidating, but they are amazing accomplishments and you have every right to be proud of them.” She assured him by squeezing his hand, just like he did hers when she was nervous. He appreciated the gesture and they grinned at each other.

“So when did you start painting?” He asked her as he took a sip of wine.

“All my life, it seems. I couldn’t think of anything else that I wanted to do. There’s something about the way the paintbrush feels in my hand. I don’t know, I guess I wanted to add more color into people’s worlds…and I love kids! I just knew I had to teach them.” She gushed and he admired the way her eyes sparkled.

“You know there are countless studies that support the idea of painting as a stress reliever. Actually, there was this one study where…” he continued to ramble and Y/N seemed to hang onto every word. He was so adorable in the way that he described things and bounced from one topic to another. She didn’t interrupt him once, not even when the food was set down on their table. He only stopped when he felt the warmth of her hand disappear from his so she could start eating. She peered at him curiously, wondering why he stopped.

“Sorry,” he grinned, “didn’t realize I’d been rambling.”

She shook her head, smiling wide, “If I knew half the things you know, I would want to share them with everyone too. I love it.”

He hadn’t expected her response but he was grateful because she hadn’t belittled him like most people do. They ate as they shared stories from their lives. Spencer noticed how the wine added a flush to her cheeks and he wondered how much more beautiful she could possibly get. She insisted on feeding him a piece of her meal but she couldn’t reach that far across the table and Spencer thought that was adorable. He’d had to lean forward just to have some, the interaction made his cheeks ache from smiling. Soon, they finished their food and Spencer took care of the bill, Y/N insisted she’d take care of dessert.

They got up and headed out of the restaurant. They were greeted by the soft chill of the nighttime. Spencer had noticed immediately how Y/N’s arms instinctively shot up to hug herself and shield her body away from the cold. He took his blazer off and placed it on her shoulders. She blushed at the warm gesture and gladly slid her arms through.

She smiled up at him gratefully, “Thanks, Spencer. Are you sure you won’t get cold?” The way she slipped her arm through his and hugged his arm almost made him forget to reply.

“I’m good, this um, sweater vest is warmer than it looks.”

He usually shied away from touch, but if there was one thing Spencer was sure of, it was that he never wanted her to let go of him. They walked in the moonlight. Conversation with her came easily. They found themselves in front of the coffee shop where they first learned of each other. It seemed it only fit to celebrate their first date there. They walked in and the woman behind the counter beamed as she saw the two of them walking in together. It was like she knew. She greeted Y/N and the Dr. gleefully and happily took their order. Spencer physically had to bite his lip to keep from smiling too much. They sat down where Spencer usually sat with his books.

“The first time I saw you sitting here, you were literally zooming through a book. I thought you’d had to have been looking for a specific quote or something, not actually reading it!” She giggled as she took a piece of the carrot cake they’d ordered. She didn’t want to let go of his warmth, so they decided to sit next to each other. Spencer didn’t mind that one bit, he’d taken his hand out of his pocket and laced his fingers through hers, their arms still looped in one another’s.

He nodded at her words, taking another piece, “The first time I saw you, you were just walking in, with your earbuds in. I was quite literally blown away.” He sheepishly admitted. She was taken aback by his sweetness and she shook her head. This man had to be too good to be true. She looked up at him and placed a gentle kiss to his cheek.

“I never thought I’d say this but...I’m so glad I was kidnapped.” She said and that sent the both of them into a roar of laughter that made the entire coffee shop jealous of what they had.

Part 1

#spencer x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fic #spencer reid angst #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #cm #mgg #dr spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid one shot #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #bau #matthew gray gubler #spencer reid x reader

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