#cute Spencer Reid

[piqtescue]

this photo is rewiring my brain

[fandom-imagines-stories]

London Rain

Season Two Episode Two

Dr. Spencer Reid x Reader (Aaron Hotchner’s Sister)

Words: 2303

Series Masterlist

Summary: In an attempt to settle both of their minds, Spencer takes the reader on a vacation to London. Aaron voices some concerns to Dave. 

Notes: This season has a lot of darkness, so I wanted to work a little fluff in while I still could. It’s a little chaotic, but this episode is really just meant to be a moment of fun. (I promise after the angsty beginning, it will get cute) Also, I don’t know the actual location of anything in London so I’m doing my best. 

Warings: Mentions of alcoholism, mild sexual content

-

Toothbrush? Check. Wallet? Check. Sticky Note reminding you to call Aaron when you landed? Check. Files to work on so you wouldn’t fall asleep on the plane? Check. 

Spencer rested his head against the window beside you and you called over the flight attendant to see if you could get some coffee. 

“You should try and get some sleep,” Spence yawned. 

You tucked a hair behind his ear. “I’ll be fine.” 

Years in the BAU may have trained him to sleep on flights, but you didn’t want to risk what you would see, especially in a space with all of these people. They could all see you. They could watch your every jolt, hear your every whimper and gasping cry. 

They would think you’re crazy. 

Spencer’s hand rested on your knee until his fingers slipped away and his breathing steadied. You watched him for a moment- eyelashes fluttering, lips slightly parted, and jaw relaxed. His peacefulness surprised you. How long had he been on edge for your sake? The past few months, Spencer didn’t sleep until he was sure you’d fallen asleep first. He woke up in the middle of the night to comfort you from your nightmares, even if he had his own. 

How could you not have seen it before, the toll being with you had taken on him? 

“Here’s that coffee for you,” the flight attendant smiled. 

You downed it quickly, the liquid burning down your throat. It was almost comforting. Familiar. 

“Is there anything else I can get for you?” She asked. “I can get you a drink menu, if you’d like?” 

“Actually, that’d be-” It would be so easy. You could slip back into the relief you once knew. That wonderful numbness… 

Spencer’s fingers twitched against your leg, his touch sending sparks of comfort, as well as guilt, up your spine. You looked at him again, a sleepy, crooked smile on his lips, and reminded yourself why you stopped. 

You turned back to the flight attendant. “No thank you.” 

She nodded and took her cart down the aisle. 

The files in your lap gave you plenty to think about. With them, you could push the creeping craving to the back of your mind. As if pretending it wasn’t there would help you forget about it. 

“Fog everywhere…” Spencer mumbled.

“What’s that?” You asked, eyes still on the case in your hand. 

 “Up the river… rolls defiled…” 

Switching your attention, you couldn’t help but laugh. The sight alone helped to lighten your mood.  Spencer was still sound asleep, but his lips moved slightly, breathing out words that you could barely hear. Slowly, you lifted his hand up to your lips and held it there for a moment, admiring your sleeping boyfriend’s beautiful serenity. 

Only Spencer- your Spencer- would recite Dickens in his sleep. 

-

“That sounds great,” Aaron smiled. You sounded genuinely excited, which made him a little less nervous about you being in a different country with everything going on. “Don’t forget to call in a few days or I’ll call Reid to see how you’re doing.” 

“Don’t you dare,” you laughed. 

He switched the phone to his other ear and continued filling out the paperwork he’d been working on. “Just have fun, okay? You deserve some time off and so does he.” 

A scuffle on the other end followed by Reid’s guiding voice interrupted you. “Hey, I have to go. I promise I’ll call, okay? I love you.” 

“I love you too,” he said. “Bye.” 

Aaron hung up the phone and tried to put his worries to rest, at least for now. This trip was a good thing. You could clear your head for a while and Reid could spend more time with you. 

One of the hardest things about their job was that they couldn’t be there for you through your recovery. The constant back and forth, having you stay with Haley because they were worried about you sleepwalking in the apartment alone, not being able to make sure whether or not you had been able to move on was hard on both of the men in your life. 

“Did they get in okay?” Dave asked, never failing to appear in his doorway at the moments he needed him. 

Aaron nodded. “They should be on their way to the hotel now.” 

“Oh to be young and in love,” Dave mused, chuckling. “They’ve been together for how long now?”

“Almost a year.” 

He took a seat across from Aaron’s desk with a smirk. “It has to be kind of weird right? I mean… It's Reid.” 

Hotch shook his head. “I try not to think about it most of the time.” 

Both laughed, but there was something about the way Aaron kept glancing at the phone or trying to distract himself by filling out another form. 

“Alright,” Dave said. “What is it?” 

Aaron glanced up at him, frowning. 

“Is it about Reid’s outburst on the plane?” He asked. “I can’t blame the poor kid. How they’re handling all of this…” He blew out a breath. 

Aaron set down his pen and ran a hand down his face. “That’s the thing,” he sighed. “They aren’t.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Reid was right. Y/N is pretending everything is fine. She doesn’t want to interrupt our lives so she’s just forcing herself to suffer alone,” Aaron leaned back in his chair. “And, while I think Reid is trying his best, he’s so afraid of losing her that he won’t push her.” 

Dave nodded. “I guess he isn’t really the ‘tough love’ type, huh?” He crossed his arms and watched his old friend carefully. “How do you know she isn’t getting better? It’s been a couple of months. Maybe she’s coming to terms with it on her own.” 

“Because I know my sister,” Aaron said firmly. “I was there the first time. I know what her reassuring smiles really hide. She’s burying herself in work, she’s closing herself off to everyone who cares about her, and sooner or later, she is going to spiral and she’s going to try and do it alone.” 

“I wonder where she picked that up from,” Dave pointed out. 

Aaron’s face darkened, his restlessness telling on him. “Y/N killed Sarah Cunningham. She shot her point blank in the chest.”

“Mrs. Cunningham was going to get as many of us to inhale Strychnine as she could,” Dave reasoned. “It was self defense.” 

“Y/N has been called a killer since she was fifteen.” Aaron’s eyes flicked over to the photograph on his desk of the two of you at your graduation. “Now she believes she is one. And to her… that makes her just like her mother.” 

The thing that killed him the most is that he couldn’t just wrap you up and make you hot chocolate every time you had a nightmare like he did when you were young. He couldn’t convince you things would be okay simply because he was your big brother and he was in the FBI so he must know. When you were just fifteen and scared and he was the only one there for you. 

You changed when you left for school. You didn’t ask for help anymore. You learned not to trust and you learned that being vulnerable with someone made you a target. 

Now, Aaron feared that, in your attempts to protect the ones around you, you would tear yourself apart. 

-

As much as you wanted to sit and enjoy the view from the hotel window, you could feel yourself starting to drift. 

“I told you you should have slept on the plane,” Spencer teased, looking over yet another brochure. 

“I’ll just have another coffee,” you shrugged. You cursed the yawn that escaped your mouth. 

Spencer put his things aside and climbed up to the top of the bed. He patted the spot beside him. 

“Spence, I told you, I’m fine.”

“And I am choosing to ignore you,” he said and adjusted the pillows. “Come on, I’m tired too.”

“This isn’t going to help with jetlag-”

“Do you want to cuddle with me or not?” His attempt at sounding firm made even him laugh. You exhaled and slid your suitcase under the desk before jumping into bed beside him. You both kicked off your shoes and you started giggling. 

“Don’t you think those are a little… I don’t know, on the nose?” You snickered. 

He followed your gaze down to his socks. The mismatched pair included images of a tiny Big Ben on one foot and a bunch of flying T.A.R.D.I.S’s on the other. 

He pouted. “I think they’re fun.” 

“I’m sorry, you’re right, they are very fun,” you kissed his pouting lips, turning it into a smirk. 

His fingers splayed over your cheek, urging you closer. Your hands went to his long, mousy hair and your legs wrapped around his waist as he rolled on top of you. 

From his fingers tracing your skin to your lips on his neck, you let everything else fall into the sound of sighs. Hovering above yours, his eyes embraced every fear, every remorse, every desire to hide away. 

And when you fell asleep in his arms, you didn’t dream. 

-

All around you, people sat, creating a sun of studying and researching and just reading for fun. The environment invited you to escape into a world that wasn’t your own. 

And that’s exactly what you did.

Each page pulled you further out of your mind and into the words. You’d almost forgotten the power of a good book, even in the nights snuggled next to Spencer as he read, you were always worried about seeming better, acting like you were better, pretending for his sake. Here, in this massive, beautiful library amongst scholars and authors and people who had no idea who you were, you transported back to the nights almost a year ago when you could just be you. 

By the end of the book, your eyes drooped and your chin slipped from your palm, giving you an awakening jolt. Taking a look around, you realized that most of the people you’d been sitting with had either been replaced or left empty seats around you. Then you looked at the time. 

Five hours?

You snapped the book shut with a satisfied sigh and left your seat to go find Spencer. Second largest library in the world, so how hard could it be? 

It was your idea to split up in the first place, since he would be able to move through volumes much faster than you, you didn’t want to make him feel obligated to slow down. However, when you found the familiar head of chin length brown hair hidden behind a stack of books the length of your arm, your jaw dropped. 

“Don’t tell me you got through all of those,” you exclaimed. 

Spencer’s head perked up from the book he was buried in. He pointed to a second stack beside his chair. “And those.” 

You groaned with jealousy and plopped down beside him. “I’m starving, do you want to go grab something to eat?” 

His eyes widened and he checked his watch. “Oh god, we’re going to be late.” He frantically started carrying his books to the return cart. 

You tilted your head. “Late for what?” 

“Dinner.” He grabbed your hand and- to your surprise, started running. 

“Spencer!” You gasped, hurrying to catch up with him and his lanky legs. People turned to watch you with disapproving glares, but he kept running even after you got out of the library. “Where are we going?”

“The Ivy.” 

You stopped dead. “You got us reservations at The Ivy?” 

Spence tugged on your arm. “Yes, and we are going to be late if we don’t hurry.” 

So there you were, sprinting through the streets of London, hands locked together and heads thrown back with laughter. 

It almost didn’t feel real. With wind racing through your hair and Spencer’s thumb lovingly rubbing the back of your hand and the world blurred around you, there was a lightness in your heart you hadn’t felt in months. 

Even the shroud of gray clouds overhead seemed to sigh with relief. The rain startled softly, then matched your racing pace. Through the downpour, Spence looked back at you, hazel eyes bright with a joy that you could get drunk on. 

“This is perfect!” You cried over the sound of the rain. 

“What?” 

Your laugh rang like a sweet bell under the chorus of water hitting pavement. “I said this is perfect!” 

Spence stopped suddenly and you collided into him. His arms locked around you and he lifted you off of your feet. 

“Spence!” You squealed, interrupted by his lips pressing against yours. He held you there, feet dangling and lips locked until you both had to catch your breath. 

His grin lit up his face. “Okay, let’s go.” 

And you took off again. 

By the time you reached the restaurant, your clothes were completely soaked through and your legs burned from sprinting God knows how many blocks. The host’s eyes widened at the sight of you. 

“Can I… help you?” She asked. 

“Um- yes- uh-” Spence stammered between gasps. “Reservation for Reid.”

She must have checked her list at least three times to make sure it was right. 

“Right this way Dr. and Mrs. Reid.”

Your heart jumped into your throat. Spencer held up a hand. 

“Actually,” he said, “she’s Dr. as well.” 

Your eyes snapped to his face, red rushing to your cheeks. Maybe he didn’t realize the importance of his correction- or rather, what he chose not to correct. When he turned back to you, you were beaming. 

“Come on,” he smiled, taking your hand once more. You followed him with the sound of the name echoing in your heart.

-

The In-Betweens series: @amywright; shesoperfectt;  hereforsmutbcicantgetenough;  violetbossler;  hyper-half-blood;  i-bitch-you-bitch; xcastawayherosx; preciousbabypeter; @jori21; @sol-48;  @murdermornings ; @ staygoldsquatchling02

[spentfromspence]

Language Barrier

Before you read, please know I did VERY little research on the language Scottish Gaelic, so if anything is wrong please forgive me. Anyway, short drabble, mostly diallage, 514 words. Enjoy 💖

Hotch watched as Spencer walked into the office, he began to approach Reid and see if he got any new info from the witness he talked to.

“Reid, anything new?” Spencer set his messenger bag down on a chair and met eyes briefly with Hotch. “No, there's nothing new.” Spencer’s lips thinned, making that face he always does. Hotch raised an eyebrow, he was out for about an hour, how did he not get anything new? “Why not?” Hotch questioned the younger man, Spencer was quick to respond. “Language Barrier.” Spencer shrugged. Hotch was used to his short, blunt, point blank answers, oftentimes Spencer didn’t see any reason to say more unless someone asked him to explain in depth or he’s splurging out statistics. “How could there be a language barrier? I thought you could speak hundreds of languages fluently.” Hotch was even more confused now, Spencer once mentioned how he could speak many languages, fluently even. “Well, actually, I know 1081 languages fluently, and there's over 7000 in the world. Although I do also know a bit of 5997 different languages, just not as fluent. I’m working on it.” Spencer says it so casually, as if everyone can do this and he’s not a literal genius. Hotch takes a moment to take everything in, it’s hard to be shocked by the agent anymore, but this was definitely shocking. He decided he’d ask Spencer more about it later, right now he needed more information on the case, and he needed to know why Spencer didn’t get any new info. “Well…” He looked at the floor as he rubbed his temple, sighing. “Do you know what language they spoke at least?” Hotch looked up to Spencer digging through his messenger bag, pulling out a Hall, a type of cough medicine. He unwrapped it and popped it in his mouth, swishing it around with his tongue for a moment. “She spoke Scottish Gaelic. It was shocking to hear because only approximately 87,000 people speak it, and the majority of those people live in Scotland. I know it may be shocking to learn that I don’t know the language considering it’s been spoken for 1500 years, I just haven’t gotten around to it. I didn’t think I’d meet anyone who spoke it, guess I should always be prepared. I suppose I’ll have to learn it after this case is over.” Spencer rambled and rambled, speaking hastily but not tripping over his words. He only ever paused shortly to swirl the cough drop in his mouth. Hotch didn’t have a response, he just stared at Spencer. In both amazement and out of being weirded out, he seemed to do this often when it came to Spencer's rambles. “I…I suppose you will have to learn it after this case…” He stared at Spencer another second longer, trying to comprehend how Spencer does it, retaining so much information at once, never forgetting a single bit of it. “You amaze me Reid.” And with that he walked off, hoping to find the coffee machine freshly filled in the staff room.

[cowboy1ikereid]

pov - spencer reid is your boyfriend and this is your camera roll (he hates modern technology but he’ll always pose for you)

[penelopegarciaismygf]

Him with kids 🥹

[gillslyds]

I just want to kiss his forehead, he's so adorable :3

[incognit0slut]

He’s just a 43 year old baby :(

[spencerreiddddd]

Unfocused

Gist: Spencer can’t seem to focus when you’re around.

“That’s why the magnetic force that the magnet pushes….towards…the… um.-“ Spencer trails off his eyes moving from Derek’s unamused and bored face to you as you walk in through those double glass doors your hair bouncing as you walk with purpose to your desk.

Spencer couldn’t understand how someone could look so beautiful in every angle and anytime.

“Earth to lover boy.” Derek’s voice broke Spencer’s train of thought as he snapped his fingers in-front of Spencer’s face a bow amused expression laid on Derek’s face.

“Hmmm- huh? What?” Spencer said looking at Derek .

“You gotta a little drool there.” Derek cackled as he swiped Spencer’s chin with his index finger.

Spencer slapped his hand away with an annoyed roll of eyes.

“Hey there boys.” Your voice broke out causing Spencer to flinch and Derek to scoff a laugh.

You walked over to them by the Kitchen to prepare yourself a good o’l quantico coffee.

“Good morning beautiful.” Derek said giving you a side hug and a kiss to your temple as he looked at Spencer teasingly of course all without your knowledge.

“Morning biceps.” You responded as you grabbed the sugar.

You smiled at Reid your best friend and gave him a nudge “I don’t get a good morning anymore? Did I lose my best friend status?” You joke flashing him a smile which in turn makes Spencer laugh.

“Of course not you could never.” He says laughing and hugs you squeezing your shoulder ever so slightly and unknowingly to you taking a whiff of the perfume you were wearing.

Derek having walked away allowed Spencer to stand ever so close to you, as he always did. Spencer reminded you of a velcro shoe once you stick it on it doesn’t come off easily.

You would be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy the attention and affection he gave you.

The rest of the day went on like that everywhere you went Spencer was right there. Never far and always somehow finding a way to touch you.

[reidsstargirl]

He's so cute I wanna eat him

[marvelwitchergilmore]

First Kick

Summary: Aaron Hotchner x Fe!Reader -> Both you and Aaron have been in a secret relationship for three years, except when you go into labour, the rest of the team can't help but speculate.

Disclaimer: Just pure fluff. Small descriptions of labour. BAU being a family. Jack and Haley don't exist in this fic. Not Proof Read.

You would have thought working with a bunch of FBI profilers, they would have figured out the truth by now. 

But they hadn’t. 

Instead, both yourself and Aaron had lived in wedded bliss for the last three years and were now expecting your first child. 

Of course, that couldn’t be hidden from the team. The constant morning sickness. The aversions to certain smells. The swollen ankles, the overwhelming emotions and the growing belly. 

Which, as you were sitting at the dim light of your desk filling in the last of the paperwork for your latest case, began to move. 

The others had stepped out for a while, grabbing some food. They had invited you except the thought of walking a block and a half already made you want to fall asleep. So, kissing the top of your head, Morgan took your order and promised to bring you back extra guac. 

The hum from the headphones you placed around your belly filled the small silence, a tune of Motzart rather than a constant drum of a nearby printer. 

However, from under the headphones, you felt a movement. 

It wasn’t big. Barely noticeable. But it was there. 

Or was it? 

Maybe it was nothing. 

Except, twenty seconds later, you knew for certain. 

Pulling the headphones from you, you stood up immediately and rushed towards Hotch’s office. 

And you continued with your normal routine. Knocking on his door, calling his name and stepping inside. 

“Is everything okay?”

Trying not to raise any alarm, you closed his office door behind you before shutting the blinds. 

“Is everything okay?”

Aaron scanned your face. “Honey?”

Within seconds he was by your side. “What is it?”

But then you smiled. And he became confused. 

“What-”

“Feel.”

Taking his hand, you guided it to cover part of your growing belly. “What am I-”

Kick.

You watched every emotion possible pass over Aaron’s face as he took in the feeling of your child kicking his palm. 

“Is that-”

Kick.

Then he laughed. 

Aaron Hotchner laughed. 

It wasn’t often that you got to see this side of your husband when at work. So it was a nice surprise when you did. 

Within seconds, he had stepped a little closer and had carefully removed his hand from the top of your stomach and slipped it under the hem of your shirt, allowing his warm palm to rest against your skin. 

Then your baby kicked harder. 

You both laughed that time. 

“Hey, ow.” You said, looking at your stomach. 

Aaron chuckled lightly before resting his forehead against yours as his other hand rested against your face, brushing the fallen hair from your face and cupping your cheek. 

“She’s moving.” 

You smiled. “You’re still convinced it’s a girl?”

“Of course I am. I’m a profiler. I should know.” 

You chuckled lightly, shaking your head. “I’m a profiler, too, you know.”

“I know.”

“And it’s mother.”

“And you disagree?” He asked, still with a light smile gracing his lips. 

You hummed. “I’m uncertain.”

“Well, how about I give you my profile and see how you feel?”

You laughed. “It really is second nature to you.”

Aaron hummed before moving his hand, still under your shirt, to the top of your belly. 

“You’re carrying high, for one.” His thumb traced back and forth on your stomach. “You’ve suffered with morning sickness before twelve weeks, your main craving so far has been fruit. You sleep on your right side.”

“I always sleep on my right side.”

Aaron smiled. “And your skin,” He stroked his thumb against your cheekbone. “It’s soft.”

You smiled, leaning into his touch. “Except, they are just old wives tales.”

“I’d like to think there is still some justice in them. Are you sure you want to wait until they’re born?”

“Yes.”

“And you couldn’t be persuaded?”

“Nope.”

“Are you sure?” Aaron smirked a little before leaning in and kissing you. 

Pulling his hand from your stomach, he brought it up to the other side of your face and it wasn’t long before he felt your body melt into his. 

“The others are going to be back soon.”

Aaron groaned a little but not before kissing you a last few times before pulling away. 

“You’d think they would have figured it out by now.” 

You nodded. “But it is kinda fun. And I can’t wait until they see our baby. I have a feeling they’ll look like you.”

“I should hope so.”

You laughed. “You know what I mean. And, if it is a girl, don’t they usually look like they’re dad?”

“Are you saying you agree with my profile?”

You hummed. “Maybe. Just a little. You are the Unit Chief of the BAU, so I suppose you have some credibility.”

“Even if they’re just old wives tales?” He asked, raising his eyebrow a little. 

You nodded, with a slight smile. “Even if they’re just old wives tales.”

You finally left his office just before the team got back, but not before stealing a few more kisses. 

Over the following months, the team grew more protective of you. With your pregnancy coming to an end, and still not knowing who the father was, they began to step up. 

It was sweet to watch. 

Penelope had planned your baby shower with JJ’s help. Reid had read up on everything a doctor and midwife knew about giving birth, just in case you went into early labour. Emily had helped you pack your spare hospital bag for the office in case you were rushed into labour whilst at the office or away on a case, being too far from home to drive to get your hospital bag. 

And when Hotch couldn’t be by your side, he made sure either Rossi and Morgan were there to help you. 

“You okay there, Momma?”

You looked to Morgan who had appeared from around the corner. You were leaning against the counter, your hand holding onto the bottom of your belly. 

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine.” You breathed out. “Just a little- ow. Okay. Hey-”

“Whoa, hey, okay, take it easy.”

Morgan placed his coffee mug down, coming right back to your side and holding your hand. “What do you need?”

Your grip tightened around his hand. “Ow. Hospital.”

“Okay, okay. Where’s your hospital bag?”

“By my desk. Emily-” You grunted in pain. “Emily knows.”

“Okay, okay. It’s okay. Emily!”

Turning around, it took Emily less than ten seconds to realise what was going on. 

“Okay, Garcia. Hey! Penelope, call Hotch. Let him know what’s going on.”

“Why, what’s-O…oh my god. Okay, Okay. Calling him now.”

By the time Morgan got you to the parking lot, Hotch was pulling in. 

“Get in, I can drive her straight there.”

“Have you got everything you need?”

You nodded. 

“Call us if you need anything?” Emily asked, shutting your door. 

You could only hum, holding onto Emily’s hand. 

She leaned in for a moment, kissing your cheek. 

“See you when you get back, Momma.”

Hotch pulled away a few moments later, rushing you directly to the hospital. 

And for the next twenty hours, Hotch stayed by your side. And the rest of the team started to think. 

“I mean, think about it. When she got braxton hicks. Who was the first one at her side?”

“Hotch.” Penelope answered. 

“Yeah, and the way he looked. I don’t know about you but I have never seen Hotch that nervous.”

“That is true.” Rossi agreed. 

“But they can’t be…together, can they?” JJ asked. “You all had it sussed about me and Will. They couldn’t go this long and not have us at least find out.”

“Maybe they didn’t want us to.”

“Or maybe they’re not together at all.”

“When have you ever known either of them to be that close with each other as they are with us? Rossi, have you ever seen the inside of Hotch’s house?”

“Not for a while, no. Why, have you ever seen hers?”

Emily shook her head. 

“Penelope, can you find out anything?” Morgan asked, turning to his best girl. 

“I can but it would completely wreck my moral standing.”

“You’ve never run a background check on us?” JJ asked. 

“No! That would be an invasion of your privacy. And theirs! If they are a..them, I suppose. Or maybe not. Maybe she is just a single mother and Hotch has decided to help her. He was the first to find out.”

“See, another thing!” Emily pointed out. 

“But Hotch is the first to know everything about us. He’s the main person we have to tell when it comes to personal things that could affect our work.” Morgan explained. 

“But why not come to one of us?” Rossi asked. “JJ, what do you think? Out of us, who would you have come to?”

JJ thought for a moment. “Out of you boys? Probably…Hotch.”

“Really?” Rossi asked. 

“Why not me?” Morgan asked. 

“Or me?” Reid finished. 

JJ smiled. “You know I love you all equally, but out of Three Divorces, Pretty Boy and Chocolate Thunder, I’d want to tell someone I know to be calm. That could remain level headed.”

“And we’re not level headed?” Morgan asked, causing JJ to look up above her shoulder. 

“What did you do when I told you I was pregnant?”

Morgan paused for a second. “You may have a point.”

“Either way, we can’t know for certain that they’re having a baby together.” Reid pointed out. 

“Well, she’s married. Or engaged, at least.”

They all turned to Emily. 

“How do you know that?”

“Her wedding finger. Last time she came back from AL she had a tan line. It was faint, but it was there.”

“Maybe he ran off? They got pregnant but he didn’t want to be in the picture?”

Penelope scoffed. “What a jerk.”

“I don’t think they’d appreciate us speculating like this.”

“JJ’s right. Maybe they’re just friends and Hotch is helping her out. Garcia, have you heard from them yet?”

“Not yet, Sir.”

Meanwhile, at the hospital, the midwife was instructing Aaron to get behind you, holding you up and holding your hands and you continued to push. 

“I don’t think I can do it.”

“Yes, you can. Yes, you can. Come on, honey. I know you can.”

“Can’t you do it for me?”

Aaron chuckled. “I wish I could, but I can’t.”

“Just a couple more pushes, Mrs Hotchner.”

Another wave of contractions hit and you continued to push for another fifteen minutes before finally everyone in the room heard the cries of your baby. 

“You did it, honey. I’m so proud of you. You did it.”

“Is she okay? What-Where is she?”

Aaron smiled, tears in his eyes, pushing the hair out of your own. “She’s-She’s okay. Look, the midwife is just wrapping them up.”

A few moments later, the midwife handed you your baby. 

Two days later they discharged you from the hospital and the first stop made was at the office considering the last of your things had been left there when you went into labour. 

And it also meant the team could finally greet your baby. 

“Ooh, ooh, they’re here. They’re here.”

Penelope was the first to spot you and Hotch standing in his office and it wasn’t long before they were all standing outside. 

However, as the congratulations and praise was made, Penelope’s voice dropped an octave after she got a clear look of the baby. 

“Oh my god.”

“What is it, Garcia?”

“Ohh, ohh, ohh my goodness.”

But you could only smile. 

“You!” Penelope pointed before turning to look at Hotch. “And you! Oh my god! You are!”

You looked behind you, finding your husband standing closer to you than when the team had first walked inside. 

“Are what? Baby girl, what’s-”

And then it clicked. 

With all of them. 

And for a moment they were all stunned into complete silence. 

“Aaron…why didn’t you…”

“Tell you?” Hotch asked, finishing Rossi’s question.

“Truthfully, we kinda maybe wanted to see how long it would take you all to figure out.” You explained. 

“But…how?!” JJ asked. 

You just shrugged. 

“Hints were there if you looked for them.” Aaron said. 

“Hints were- Oh, so, now he tells us. How long?”

“Four years.” You both answered. 

“Four years?!” They all half shouted, quickly remembering there was an infant present. 

“Wait.” Penelope said, holding up her hands. “Oh my god, it’s all coming together. This must be how Sherlock Holmes feels when he cracks a case.”

Both yourself and Aaron smiled before looking down at the sleeping baby in your arms. 

“The weekends away, the lunch orders, the arrive at work together. Oh my god! The touching.” Penelope hit Emily and Derek’s arm. 

“Ow!” They both called. 

“How could you two not have noticed this?!”

“You didn’t notice either!” Emily replied, rubbing her arm. 

“Baby girl, they kept this from us for four years. Why aren’t you hitting them?”

“Because,” Penelope explained. “She had just had a beautiful baby girl. And Hotch is my boss.”

“Can you ever find a way to forgive us?”

They all looked at each other before seemingly coming to the same conclusion. “Fine. But, only if you tell us how it happened and when. And, if you have a wedding re-do so that we all get to attend.”

Both you and Aaron looked at each other. 

“That could work.”

“Great! Now, let me see this beautiful baby girl.” Penelope said, her voice once again chipper, as she came to your side. 

“My goodness, she’s beautiful. Hotch, she looks just like you.”

Aaron smiled at the compliment, but shook his head. “No, that’s all her mom.”

“Oh-ho,” Rossi laughed a little. “She is going to be running rings around us all soon enough.”

Four weeks later, each member of the team turned up together on different days, listening to the story of your relationship. First were the girls and Reid before JJ showed up with Morgan and Rossi. JJ was there to drop some items off that both yourself and Hotch would find useful with the nursery but she didn’t mind hearing the story a second time. 

Eight weeks after you had given birth, your doorbell rang and just as Aaron opened up the front door, Penelope and Rossi walked inside carrying boxes of items before directing the rest of the team through your home into the garden. 

“Dave, what’s going on?”

“You, my dear friend, are getting married.”

“We’re already married.” You said with a small laugh, walking to stand beside your husband. 

Dave nodded. “That you are, but today, you are both getting remarried. You did promise us.”

“We did promise them.” Aaron said, turning to look at you. 

“We did, didn’t we?”

Dave smiled. “So, Uncle Reid is going to be looking after this little one.”

You carefully handed your baby girl to Spencer as Dave continued to explain. 

“Whilst the girls help you get ready and I enlist your help,” Rossi turned to look at Hotch. “To help finish the set up.”

Penelope appeared from down the hallway. “Come on, Emily is finishing setting everything up.”

“I guess I’ll see you at the wedding?”

“I’ll be the one in white.”

Aaron smiled before kissing you quickly as barely a second later Penelope was dragging you upstairs. 

That night was filled with joy, laughter and happiness. Yourself and Aaron shared another set of marriage vows in front of the team. You shared a second first dance, a second first kiss and a first family dance. 

It was a quiet moment on the corner of the dance floor. You were swaying with your baby, softly, in your arms when you felt a familiar pair of arms wrap around your waist from behind and a familiar pair of lips kiss your shoulder. 

Turning around you, Aaron held both of you close. Your forehead against his and your eyes closed, his fingers traced patterns against your arms back and forth before down your side and to your hips where he pulled you in a little closer. 

Neither of you knew it until a week later, but Morgan had, with Emily’s help, caught everything on camera. And with help from Penelope, a second wedding video had been made. 

Capturing the full length of your first family dance together.

[reidsdimples]

Feverish

Spencer Reid x Reader

18+ ❤️‍🔥

Spencer can’t keep his hands off of you in his fever induced delirium.

Inspired by a scene from The Tearsmith (on Netflix)

“What happened?” You ask Morgan who’s got Spencer’s arm draped over his shoulder.

Spencer is out of it, delirious, coated in sweat. Yet he grins at you.

“Popped for the flu, probably from those kids earlier this week,” Morgan answers as he puts Spencer in the passenger seat of your car.

“I knew the flu shot was a waste of time,” Spencer muses. “It’s an educated guess at best as for what strain will circulate through the population,” he scoffs and shoves on sunglasses.

“Wonderful,” you groan.

“You’ve already been sick this season, you’re probably fine,” Spencer mumbles and lulls his head back in the seat.

“I think that’s why he said to call you,” Morgan smiles.

“Well, it’s great to see you again. Stay safe,” Morgan hugs you by way of farewell.

Taking care of your sick ex boyfriend on your long anticipated three day weekend was not high on your bucket list. But here you were.

You drop into the car next to him and he’s already fast asleep. Feeling his forehead, you confirm that he’s burning up.

You and Spencer had ended things amicably four weeks ago. Your crazy schedule as a labor and delivery nurse didn’t mesh well with his chaotic FBI job. It didn’t mean you didn’t care for him. Perhaps that made seeing him so sick that much harder.

“Come on,” you help him from the car and into your house.

He stumbles up the front steps but you’re able to hold him up.

“Sorry, dizzy,” he murmurs.

“It’s okay,” you place your hand at the center of his chest, pushing yourself under his arm further to support his tall frame. The heat coming off of him could almost burn you.

You had never been more grateful that you opted for a one floor house. You imagined getting him up a flight of stairs would be impossible.

“Here,” you sit him on the edge of your king sized bed but he just flops onto his side, tucking his face into your pillow. He breaths in deeply, you can hear how congested he is.

You hurry to your medicine cabinet to get him a concoction of fever reducers.

“Take this,” you sit him up.

He barely opens his eyes, just groggily obeys and trusts the pills you’re giving him. He knows you’d never do anything to hurt him.

You wipe the water from his lips gently. He purses his mouth as though to kiss the pad of your thumb longingly.

You slowly undo the buttons of his shirt, you needed to cool him down. He’s drenched in sweat.

“Sit up,” you pull him up with a hand on the back of his neck and push the shirt off of his shoulders. Your eyes trace his body longingly, but only for a moment.

You gently lay him back down and start undoing his converse so he can get more comfortable. He groans at the movements as you tug the shoes off and discard them, adoring his mismatched socks.

You brush his hair from his forehead and prompt him to open his eyes. He does but they’re heavy with fatigue.

“You’re going to be fine Spence, just tell me if you need anything,” you whisper.

You gently caress his cheek, his eyes fluttering closed. You relax your hand in the center of his bare chest, unable to help how drawn to him you are. You missed him. His lean body with the thin sheen of sweat had your heart fluttering. Touching him was too much, too overwhelming. You sigh and stand from the bed.

His arm wraps around your waist and he tugs you weakly back into the bed. You fall half onto him and half next to him.

“Don’t go,” he murmurs and buries his face in your stomach like you’re all he’ll ever need. You run your hands through his long hair and hold him close to comfort him. It doesn’t even bother you that his hair is damp, you just want to help him.

He pulls you more onto him and twists his hands into your shirt. You’re nearly straddling him now, leaning over him as he groans and begs for you to be closer.

“Spence,” you warn.

He nudges his face into your abdomen, between your breasts. He’s so out of it you doubt he’s even aware of his actions. His mouth clamps over your nipple which is hardening through your shirt. This is so wrong, but it feels so fucking good.

Your body reacts to him, your hips grinding down against his. You can’t help it.

Your tank top rides up and his mouth trails sloppily against your now exposed skin, causing you to suck air through your teeth harshly. He’s kind of kissing you, but more seemingly needing to touch you with his mouth. He leaves moist trails of kisses against your stomach. He grapples at your body, he’s needy, he’s panting. He’s whimpering against you.

He’s burning up.

“Shhh, Spence,” you sink down next to him and nestle into the crook of his arm.

You push away your arousal. That was not happening right now.

Besides, clear headed Spencer wouldn’t touch you that way after breaking up.

“Need you,” he moans.

“Not right now baby,” the nickname slips out. It was habit.

His buries his face in the crook of your neck, he’s breathing hard as his hand trails down your body. He digs his nails into the soft skin on your hips and squeezes lovingly. His fingertips move down the plane of your stomach and graze just under the edge of your waistband but he goes no further. You take in the sight of his large hand on your body again, those fingers, the way the muscles and veins move as he does. Your traitorous pussy clenches around absolutely nothing. Ugh.

He begins to kiss the soft spot of your neck and you can’t help but to tilt your head to give him better access. His hand moves up to squeeze your breast, pulling a moan from you. God you needed him so bad. But he was so sick. His desperation for you was driving you mad.

You hear him shudder as a chill washes over him. But he ignores it, moving so his laying on you, kissing your nipples through the thin fabric of your shirt. His eyes are still closed, heavy with sickness. But he slides his strong arms under you to hold you even closer to him as he continues to kiss and sucking at your neck. He nudges your tank top down and pulls your nipple into his mouth, sucking hard.

“Ah, Spencer. Baby,” you writhe beneath him, but he’s got you pinned.

He kisses you until he can’t anymore, until his grip on you grows weaker and his mouth lingers on you longer.

He grows tired and rests his head on your chest. He keeps you beneath him, most of his body weight laying between your legs. His head rests on your stomach as he starts to doze off. His warm breath fans against your skin.

You push your hand into his hair to keep him right where he is. He’s absorbing your body heat, his breathing beginning to slow.

A content sigh escapes his chest and he finally falls asleep.

You can still feel the ghosts of his hands and lips, messy and needy on your body. It’s like he was devouring you, like you were the only thing that could save him. He was absolutely out of his mind, acting on instinct and primal need despite being sick. It’s like he couldn’t help it, couldn’t stop himself from touching you.

[piqtescue]

pretty boy✨

[gublerie]

the pookiest pookie to ever pookie !!! ⋆｡°✩

[briefkittenearthquake]

The way I would let this man break my back like a glow stick

[0stargirl0]

Guys his necklace is rumple buttercup

[esote-rika]

A bookstore meet cute I wish I could experience | Spencer Reid

Category: Fluff with S4 awkward, nerdy rizz Spencer

Warnings: use of Y/N, unedited (tenses keep shifting, sorry)

A/N: this is just 1.8k words of self indulgent self insert. Like this is inspired by some unpleasant experiences I've had talking with men about books in the past lol, and reader's responses defensive responses had been me at some point. i feel like a conversation with Spencer Reid would heal me, thus this fic. Also, save me, s4e9 Spencer Reid, save me.

He seemed like a fixture to the bookstore, if fixtures moved on their own. Or if they moved up and down the aisles with elegant fingers tracing the spines of the books on display. Or if they dressed like a rumpled professor, complete with the black rimmed glasses. He just seemed like he was part of the space, and you thought that every bookstore should probably come with one - a tall, attractive nerd who drifted all over the room like some sort of phantom. Maybe that would help with the literacy problem. It certainly would bring more people in, make them more interested in reading.

You've been trying to figure him out from afar, as subtle as you can. You're not a creep, after all, but he cuts such a lonely figure that you couldn't help but wonder if he needed some company. A part of you wonders if he's noticed you as well. This store is your late afternoon treat, after all. You come here every Friday, without fail, even when you know the inventory is unreplenished, simply to bask in the presence of books.

And then he started coming in regularly, and you had another reason to come.

You never approached him. Something about simply knowing he's there, while remaining a stranger, is thrilling. You can romanticize him if he's a stranger, project all the wholesome fantasies and book boyfriends you have upon him with no sense of accountability.

It also means you avoid the disappointment if he turns out to be another condescending know it all, eager to put you and your reading habits down because oh your tastes are so girly.

No, this was better. You're a flaneur, you tell yourself, you're here to be part of the space and observe from within, even though you doubt this is what Baudelaire had in mind when he wrote that essay and defined the term.

Still.

You smile to yourself, crouching down to check the books on the lower shelf, and also to catch a glimpse of his legs. He'd been on the other side of this shelf for the past five minutes, and you've gotten a soft chuckle when you saw his mismatched socks.

However, his lean form is nowhere to be seen. He seems to have moved to another aisle. With a small frown, you move to stand up, only to feel a tug.

“Shit,” a quick glance down reveals that a familiar looking shoe has accidentally stepped on your long skirt. You hadn't realized it billowed out around you when you knelt down.

“Oh, I'm so sorry!”

You look up and realize why the shoe looks familiar. It's him. You couldn't see him in the other aisle because he'd moved to your side, so silently you hadn't even heard him.

“Sorry, oh gosh, I didn’t notice.” He steps off quickly, and you watch as his cheeks bloom bright pink. A pink that quickly travels down his neck.

You stifle a laugh at how easily he blushed. “It's fine.” Your attempt to stand is more successful without his foot pinning the fabric of your skirt to the ground.

“I've messed up your skirt though.” He says, looking at the brown smudge left behind on the skirt.

“It's no big deal, it’ll come out.” You shrug, getting a good look at him this time. He's taller than you thought, with a sharp bone structure that's softened by large, hazel eyes and pouty lips. His hair is slicked back, curling at the nape of his neck, the color a soft brown that matches his eyes. Yeah, one of him should really come in every bookstore, you think.

“O-okay, uh, if you're sure…” He says, rubbing his hands on his pants. A nervous energy emanates from him, disrupting your idea that he's calm and tranquil.

Oh well, there goes that fantasy. Still, you wonder if maybe he's nervous because of you.

“I still feel bad though,” He adds, looking around, “Uh, how about I buy you a book for the inconvenience?”

“It's hardly an inconvenience,” You laugh, “But hey, I won't say no to a free book.”

He perks up, “Great. I'm Spencer, by the way.”

“Y/N. It's nice to meet you, Spencer.”

He repeats your name, and you find yourself enjoying the shape his mouth makes as he tests it out, lips and tongue wrapping around the syllables as if he wants to commit the way it feels in his memory.

You mentally kick yourself in the ass, wondering if you've read too many romance novels.

“Likewise,” He smiles, and you have to remind yourself that it's rude to stare at the lips of someone you just met. It's not your fault he has such pretty dimples, and you had the urge to count them. He continues, “So what kind of books do you like, Y/N? Romance?”

Your eyes narrow at that. You wonder how to answer. Yes? Would he judge you if you say yes? Is he one of those guys, the ones who only read heavy, intellectual books and look down on people who read fluff? Do you want to try and impress him by saying no, by scoffing and saying something like of course not I’m looking for a copy of Swann's Way by Marcel Proust? (which is the most “impressive” book you can think of at the moment). The idea seems too gross, too I'm not like other girls, and you immediately cross it out.

“And if I do?” you ask instead, surprised by the edge to your voice.

He blinks, then shrugs, looking entirely innocent. “Then we should head to the romance shelf over there.”

Once again, you're surprised. Some part of you had been expecting a smirk, maybe a roll of his eyes, that look you get when you even dare to bring up the romance genre. But, no. He starts walking to a different part of the store and you're forced to follow.

“Why did you think I read romance?” the words escape your lips before you can stop them.

He ducks behind a shelf, his hair falling down and hiding his face but you get a glimpse of the bright red skin of his neck. He's blushing again.

“Well, it's - ah - that is, I've noticed you here before, and you always seemed to hang out here in the romance section.” He says in a rush, his head still angled away from you.

You feel simultaneously called out, and a little giddy. So he's noticed you, just as much as you'd noticed him.

“So you're a stalker.” You can't help but tease.

He lets out a sound, somewhere between an indignant sputter and a scoff. “What? No! I just happen to be very observant, it's a skill I've learned to hone for my job, and you're not very hard to remember-” He cuts himself off, peeking at you with a horrified look on his face.

Laughter tumbles from your lips, and you clamp your teeth down your bottom lip to stop.

“I was teasing you.” You say, trying to fight the giggles.

He seems relieved, but the crease on his brow remains, a sign of his previous embarrassment.

“And you're right. The romance section has the biggest amount of secondhand books that I can read while I'm here.” You explain. This aisle also gives you the best view of the nonfiction section, which he frequents, therefore giving you the perfect spot to observe him over the past few weeks. Though you leave out that part.

“Ah,” He nods, looking around, “See anything you like?”

“No, I'm actually looking for a copy of The Hobbit right now.”

He lights up, “Oh, you're a fan of Tolkien too? I love him, he's such a genius and completely innovated the fantasy genre! So much so that he - wait, if you're looking for The Hobbit, why didn't you tell me sooner?”

“You just started walking.” You reply, smiling at him. He's adorable when he becomes so animated, hands waving around like his body can't contain his excitement and has to find ways to express them physically. “Had to follow you. But anyway, I'm assuming you've read The Hobbit?”

He accepts your explanation easily, then nods his head. You can't help but compare him to a puppy, so eager and nearly frantic in his excitement.

“I've read every Tolkien book.” He says, and you're surprised to find his voice contains no hint of superiority, or cockiness. Just genuine joy. It's refreshing, “Including The Silmarillion."

“Oh wow,” You laugh, aware of the reputation that tome carries, “I've only seen the Lord of The Rings movies.”

“Well that's not sufficient at all! You're missing out on so much history,” He says, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Mhm, well help me find The Hobbit first, before I move on to the trilogy.” You reply, already walking over to where you know the fantasy books are.

He follows you, smiling bashfully, “You know, I have copies of all the books… I can just lend them to you, if you want.”

You pause, glancing over your shoulder in surprise. “You'd let a stranger borrow your books?”

“Only if you promise to take care of them.” He says, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck.

“I swear on my life, I will not tarry your precious copies of Tolkien's masterpiece.” You make a cross over your heart for emphasis, which makes him laugh. This time, you stare at his lips shamelessly, enjoying the dimples that appeared from the action.

“Okay, maybe we meet up over coffee sometime?” he asks, fiddling with the strap of his bag. “I'll bring the books.”

You fight the urge to squeal. Your body refuses to contain the giddiness, and the sound compromises by coming out as a giggle.

“Yeah, sure.” you watch as he digs into his pocket, handing over a card. “Oh, how very professional.” You say playfully, accepting the slip of paper.

He ducks his head, and you see the beginnings of the blush creeping down his neck. It feels exhilarating, being able to make him blush like this.

“It's just more practical.” He mumbles.

You grab your phone quickly, typing in his number and giving it a call, so that your number goes through his as well. “I'll give you a call. But, you still owe me a book for this.” You motion at your skirt, at the stain of his footprint on the fabric.

He chuckles, “Of course. Can't go back on my promise.” he looks around the store and you're taken by the sight of him, looking like he's part of the space, like he simply belongs here. And this time, with you standing next to him, with him. “Take your pick.”

“I'm pretty indecisive.” You say playfully.

“I have time.” He smiles, and you find he has two dimples on one side of his face, and only one on the other. Your chest feels heavy with something that you can't quite put a name to yet, but you're eager for more of it.