#david rossi x fem!reader

[emilysholster]

Bratty (David Rossi x Reader)

Summary: David punishes you for acting out at work

Warnings: NSFW, public teasing/flirting, dirty talk/pet names, daddy kink, [unprotected] PinV sex, edging, oral sex (D receiving), face-fucking, light D/S dynamics, mention of degradation, (fem!reader)

Translations: gattina (kitten)

A/N: inspired by an ask from @vikingstoner69, thank you! 🩷

Admin day was always such a bore. No cases, just talks about budget and financial planning for the whole work day. While Emily took on the brunt of the work as chief, it was still each team member’s responsibility to present to everyone their ideas for the budget updates and what they’d like to see added to the team’s toolkit.

It was during these presentations that your genius idea to get over the boredom came to you. You rolled your chair a bit so that you were further back from the table, and able to see the back of everyone’s heads. You were not directly visible to anyone else on the team except for David, who was at the front of the room.

The two of you had been dating in secret for some time. You’d mutually decided to not let the team know until you were both comfortable, and that meant things were in that easy spot right now. Your nights consisted of separate car rides from work to either his place or yours, where you’d then enjoy dinner, and later, each other.

You felt a light tingle between your legs thinking about last night and the way you’d made David groan. Watching him at the front of the room, you crossed your legs, squeezing your thighs together. The action had a double purpose, as the skirt you were wearing rode up your thighs slightly, exposing more of your skin. You smirked to yourself when you saw David’s gaze catch on your legs as he spoke.

As he went on with his presentation, you began upping your antics. You pulled your hair out of the bun it was in, letting it fall down your shoulders. Next, you began toying with the top button of your blouse. Innocent enough, but when you slipped the second button out of its hole to show off your chest, David stuttered. You looked at him innocently as you bounced the end of your pen against your lips, playing with it. Now David shot you his you’re gonna get it look, unnoticed by the rest of the half-asleep team.

“And that about wraps it up.” He said, ending his presentation.

“Alright!” Emily blinked herself out of her daze. “Thank you, Dave. Ok, and last but not least, Penelope?”

David took his seat next to you as Garcia went to the front and began her colourful presentation about some new tech software she could use funding for.

With Garcia caught up in her presentation and you still being out of sight of the rest of the team, you dropped your hand to caress David’s thigh. You traced circles with your finger, getting dangerously close to his bulge before drifting away again. You smiled to yourself when David cleared his throat next to you, but before you could push him further, his hand grabbed yours, forcing it to stop.

Not wanting to draw the attention of the team, you tried to gently squirm your hand away. But David’s large hand kept its grip on yours, preventing you from moving. Annoyed, you huffed quietly, giving in. You spared a quick glance at him but he kept his eyes straight ahead, jaw set. Uh oh.

•••

At home, you were pouring wine for the two of you when you heard the door open. Before you could even turn at the footsteps making their way towards you, David was behind you, pressing you up against the counter. His large hands came to rest on either side of you, pinning you in place as he brought his mouth close to your ear. “Care to explain yourself?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You hummed, arching so your ass was pressed up against him.

“So bratty today,” David husked into your ear. You stifled a groan when you felt him grinding against you. “I think you need a lesson.”

Suddenly he was tugging your skirt down, followed by your panties. Heat rushed to your skin as he nudged your legs apart, forcing you to stand there bent over and completely exposed.

You heard him unbuckle his belt behind you. “Look at how wet you are for me. Dripping just from teasing me all day.” Without warning, he pushed his cock into you. David groaned at the feeling of your tight walls engulfing his cock, your wetness covering him as he pushed into you.

You all but purred at the feeling of his cock filling you up, the ache between your legs finally getting taken care of. But before the pleasure building in you could reach its peak, David pulled his cock completely out of you. You whined at the loss, pushing backwards in hopes of getting him back in you.

Instead you were met with a sharp slap on your ass, making you hiss. “What, you thought you could act out all day and still get fucked like you wanted to?”

“Fuck!” You groaned out when he pushed his cock back into you. But just as quickly he was back out, and he began picking up this torturous rhythm of filling you up before withdrawing, not letting you soak up the pleasure.

Pretty soon you were at the brink of tears, whining. “Having regrets now, gattina?” David grunted from behind you as he slipped his cock out again.

“Yes,” you cried out in frustration. “I’m sorry, I won’t do it again.” Your hole was aching now, and you could feel your wetness leaking out of you.

“We both know that’s a lie, don’t we?” You could hear the smirk in David’s voice as he traced a finger down your spine, and even that simple action had you arching.

“I’m sorry, I mean it.” You were begging now, so desperate to have his cock back inside you and hitting that sweet spot again. “Please, please just fuck me Daddy.”

David’s cock twitched at your use of the name. You didn’t always use it, but some of his best memories were of when you did.

You felt his cock rub through your folds, nudging your clit before lining up with your entrance and pushing in slowly. Both of you groaned as he pushed deep inside you, letting both of you savour the feeling of him against your walls.

One of David’s hands gripped your hip while the other tangled itself in your hair, gently pulling you up so you were flush against him now as he began fucking you. “Oh fuck,” you groaned. “Yes, right there.”

“This is what you wanted all day, didn’t you?” David’s voice by your ear was strained as he pounded into you. “To be bent over taking Daddy’s cock.”

“Yes!” You moaned as his hand snaked around your front, his fingers beginning to circle your clit. You felt David lick a stripe down your neck, and he pulled your shirt collar to attach his mouth to the sensitive skin. He bit down gently, making you hiss, and immediately soothed the skin with his tongue, making sure you’d be wearing turtlenecks for the next few days.

The combined sensations of his cock, mouth, and fingers had you feeling heady with pleasure, the wave building in you threatening to spill over. “I’m gonna come, Daddy.” You groaned.

“Do it, gattina. Come for me.” David panted from behind you. His permission was all you needed; the pleasure that’d been building finally spilling over. David held onto you tight while you moaned as waves of pleasure rolled through you.

David pulled out of you as you relaxed, and you turned to see him with his still-hard cock in his hand. Smirking, you dropped to your knees and took his cock into your hand. It was slick with a mixture of precum and your juices, and you admired the way his veins bulged beneath his tan skin.

David’s cock twitched in your hand as you circled the tip with your tongue before taking him into your mouth. “Oh fuck,” he groaned from above you. You used your other hand to cup his balls as you began slurping on his cock, running your tongue from the base to the tip repeatedly.

“Yes,” David hissed. “Take Daddy’s cock just like that, gattina.” His hands buried themselves in your hair and he held your head in place as he began fucking your mouth. You braced yourself by holding on to him, moaning at the feeling of your mouth being filled by his thick cock.

“Look at you, my little slut.” David husked. “I’m gonna come in that hot mouth of yours.” He was watching you as you looked up at him through your lashes while you took his cock between your lips. You relaxed your throat, allowing him in deeper.

“Shit,” David grunted from above you, and he doubled his pace before shooting his cum into your mouth. He groaned as his cock oozed into your mouth, and you eagerly sucked and swallowed.

You wiped your mouth as you stood up, and David grabbed you by the chin for a hungry kiss. He moaned at the taste of himself on your lips and you giggled as he wrapped his arms around your waist and pressed you closer to him.

He pulled away and placed a kiss on your forehead. “You’re so good for me.”

You smiled up at him and placed a chaste kiss on his lips. Looking down at the mess of your clothes on the kitchen floor, you giggled. “I guess we should order in.”

“Good idea.” David laughed.

[guiltyc0nscience]

elle greenaway and spencer reid:

[rynbutt]

safe. | spencer reid.

You were pregnant but JJ had just left the team and they needed you. You hadn't told anyone; you hadn't even told Spencer.

my masterlist!

cw: fem!reader, pregnant!reader, guns, violence, mentions of murder, mentions of drugs (antidepressants and opioids), mentions of car accident, gunshot wounds, death of pregnant woman, general criminal minds themes.

wc: 6.2k

a/n: bruh this was a looooong one! dw some banging smut coming in the next one with post-prison reid >:3

now playing... Fare Well by Hozier

This was really starting to piss you off.

You fell to your knees as bile pushed up your throat, your skin paling as you vomited for the third time today. You tried to keep something, anything, down but you would just wind up curled in on yourself and sweating in the corner of the bathroom stall. You ate a couple of crackers and sipped on water to keep your empty stomach satiated– But you always ended up right back here on the bathroom floor with your head between your knees trying to will the pain away.

Emily noticed your pale complexion and how exhausted you looked, offering to get you some medicine or ask Hotch about sitting out of the next few cases. You told her you were fine, that it was just stress. That answer seemed to satisfy her enough, though she wasn’t fully convinced. To be fair, your workload had increased tenfold since JJ was forced to accept the job at the Pentagon, and you missed her terribly but you were proud of her. But you really could have used her advice right about now.

Because you swore this baby had it out for you.

You found out you were pregnant just over a week ago and you still hadn’t told Spencer. You were still wrapping your head around the whole thing because initially, you didn’t think you were pregnant, you just thought your body was dealing with the stress and workload in, frankly, a bizarre way. Hotch had wanted you to take over doing JJ’s job as communication liaison, which were rather important shoes to fill. He had total faith in your ability to do JJ’s job as well as do your own as a profiler, but you weren’t so sure anymore. 

You would tell Spencer when you were ready and right now was not a good time. Everyone was surviving on four hours of sleep a night, far too many cups of coffee and sheer willpower. The absolute last thing they needed was to lose another team member. So you soldiered on like a champion– a champion who still held her head over the bureau’s less than impressive toilet while she threw her guts up.

“Y/N?” You didn’t even hear the bathroom door open, the ringing rattling around your skull distracting you from your surroundings. Penelope’s heels clicked against the tiles as she cautiously peered around the wall of the last stall where you kneeled on the ground. “Oh my god, sweet thing! What’s wrong?”

“I’m fine, Pen,” your voice was hoarse when you finally replied. You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand and tried to smooth your hair down, attempting to look at least semi-presentable before you left the bathroom to pretend everything was okay.

“No, no, my girl, you are not fine!” Penelope stood in behind you, pulling your hair out of your face as you vomited the last remnant of your soul into the toilet. “You need to talk to Hotch, you’ve got a bug or something, my dear. You shouldn’t even be at work when you’re this sick, let me talk to him for you and you just go home–”

“I’m not sick, Penelope!” You didn’t mean to shout at her, you really didn’t, you just felt awful and felt like a shell of yourself with how poorly you’d been sleeping and eating paired with all the stress of doing JJ’s job as well as your own. It was just a lot.

Penelope went quiet but stayed close to you, still holding your hair as you sat back on your heels, running your hands down your face. She let out a soft sigh, knowing you didn’t mean to shout at her. Penelope was stressed too– everyone was.

“I’m sorry, Pen,” you mumbled, your throat hurting from all the vomiting and coughing you’d managed to do today– it had to be a record honestly. 

Penelope just shook her head at you, reaching her hand out toward you, “you don’t have to apologise, sweet girl, I know you’ve got a lot on your plate.” You shook your head, you still felt bad and shouting at sweet Penelope was not the way to deal with all the emotions swirling around in your head.

“It’s not fair,” you replied as she helped you to your feet, gently guiding you over to the basin to help you clean yourself up. “You’re stressed too, I didn’t mean to yell.”

Penelope brushed some of your hair out of your face, her gaze narrowing as she watched you, waiting for you to tell her what was going on. It never came and she knew she would have to push you a little. Penelope thought it was necessary though because seeing you like this was awful and she couldn’t even imagine how Spencer would react if he knew how sick you were.

“What’s going on?” Penelope’s voice was soft; gentle, just trying to get you to talk so she could help. You were stubborn when it came to asking for help and by the time you did, you had hurt yourself more than necessary trying to solve it yourself. Not this time though– Penelope refused.

“I’m okay–” you looked at Penelope and she raised her brows at you, not accepting that answer in the slightest. You sighed, knowing this is a fight you wouldn’t win. “I’m pregnant.”

Penelope’s jaw nearly hit the floor. She knew something was up with you but pregnant? That was not on this year's bingo card. “What?? Y/N that’s–” she gauged your expression and she really couldn’t tell if you were upset or happy about being pregnant. She cut herself off before she finished her sentence, pulling her lips into a line. “Are we happy about this news or are we…?”

“We’re…” you were happy. Honestly, you were. You and Spencer had talked about having kids one day, ideally after you were married but that didn’t seem to be going to plan. You’d been with Spencer for three years, in the BAU for four, it’s not like your relationship was new or in the honeymoon phase, it just wasn’t the original plan and that scared the hell out of you. But you were happy to be carrying his child– the timing was just piss poor. “We’re happy… just scared.”

“Oh, baby,” Penelope cooed. “Of course you’re scared, it’s a huge adjustment. But I know you and I know Spencer, you guys will nail this parenting business.” Penelope managed to prove time and time again why she was your best friend. You often wondered if she knew you better than you knew yourself, which wouldn’t really surprise you given her job.

“I hope so.” You smiled softly, feeling somewhat human again after splashing water on your face and washing your hands. You knew Spencer would be a good dad, he was so good with kids and he was so gentle and patient with you. He was meant to be a dad. You just weren’t sure if you were meant to be a mother. You wanted to be a family with Spencer, it made you feel warm just thinking about it, but you were a person who worried about almost everything, even the things out of your control. What scared you was how in control you were. 

“I’m surprised Spencer hasn’t told everyone, that boy is obsessed with you and you’re making him a dad? God, it must be killing him sitting on this–” Penelope suddenly looked at you wide-eyed, connecting the dots all on her own. You winced as you watched her figure it out, gritting your teeth as she let out a soft gasp. “You haven’t told him?!”

You covered your face with your hands, letting out a muffled squeal of frustration into your palms. You would tell him eventually, just not right now, he was far too busy and was already stressing about his own workload, you couldn’t imagine how much more stressed he would be if he found out you were still in the field while pregnant.

“Pen, please,” you turned to her, “please keep this to yourself. I– We can’t deal with this right now. JJ’s gone and everyone is worked to the bone, I can’t do this to everyone right now, especially Spencer.” Penelope looked at you sympathetically, you knew you were asking a lot of her to keep it to herself, especially when Penelope wasn’t great at keeping secrets.

“Y/N, sweetie, you’re going to have to tell them eventually– You’re an FBI Agent. Being in the field is so dangerous and you don’t just have yourself to think about anymore.” You knew Penelope was right. You carried a gun around for Christ’s sake, you literally hunted down serial killers, active shooters, total psychopaths and everything in between. The field was no place for a pregnant woman. 

“I know, I know,” you sighed, resting both of your hands on the basin in front of you.

“...How far along are you?”

“Twelve weeks,” you said softly, resting your hand against your belly. You didn’t have much of a bump yet but you were sure it would sneak up on you before you even realised. Lucky for you, you wore a lot of baggy sweaters around the office so you had some wriggle room when it came to hiding it.

“...My money’s on a girl,” Penelope was trying to make you feel better. She really was helping because the idea of Spencer hosting tea parties, getting covered in kitten stickers and his hair being covered in tiny butterfly clips made your heart swell.

You let out a soft laugh, “I think so too.”

“Alright, my love, I think we should leave this bathroom before they send out a search party,” Penelope laughed, linking her arm with yours to guide you out of the bathroom. 

You honestly did feel better after talking to Penelope and throwing the rest of your guts up. She made sure to remind you about ten times to call her if you needed anything, you promised you would because it did make you feel better knowing that someone knew about your pregnancy and you didn’t have to bear the weight of the news alone.

You sat down at your desk with a sigh, sipping on your water bottle to soothe your raw throat. You popped a piece of gum in your mouth, willing the taste of bile away. You let out a huff of air as you stared down at all the paperwork you had to do. Doing JJ’s job proved to be intense, especially when you were doing your own work on top of her’s. You picked up your pen when you felt Spencer press a kiss to the crown of your head as he placed a mug of hot coffee on your desk in front of you.

You smiled, craning your neck to look up at him. Spencer took the opportunity to kiss you softly, one of his hands resting on the side of your desk while the other rested on the back of your chair. You smiled against his lips, “shouldn’t you be working?” You teased.

“Are you trying to get me to go away?” Spencer looked at you curiously. You rolled your eyes playfully because of course you didn’t want him to go away. If anything, you wanted him to pick you up and take you home right this second.

“Yes, Spencer,” you replied sarcastically, “I’m trying to get you to go away.” Spencer wasn’t great with sarcasm but he had come to understand your humour over the years. He just grinned and pressed another kiss to your lips.

“Sarcasm is rooted in truth, angel,” Spencer retorted with a gentle smile. 

“I am joking, but we both have a lot of work to do, Spence. I don’t know how I’m going to manage doing JJ’s job as well as my own,” you sighed, leaning back in your chair.

“There’s a reason Hotch wanted you to do it. I don’t think he could have picked anyone more capable,” Spencer replied. Maybe it was the hormones and the fact you were carrying a baby, but the comment made you want to cry. Spencer frowned as he watched your face fall, “what’s wrong, angel?”

“No, nothing,” You replied, sniffling quietly. You gave him a genuine smile, “I’m fine, Spence. I promise–”

“New case just came in,” Morgan called to the two of you, gesturing toward the meeting room at the back of the office with a manila folder in his hand. 

You looked at Morgan with a confused expression because now it was your job to decide what cases the team took after JJ’s departure. Morgan told you the case went straight to Hotch this time; an old friend had called in a favour. 

Spencer pulled a chair out for you, taking the seat right beside you in the meeting room. You opened the case file the moment Penelope dropped it in front of you.

“The victims are 20-year-old Evan Miller and 21-year-old Daniel Clark, both engineering students at Caltech. They were shot three days apart outside their family homes in the local area of Pasadena, California.” You followed along with Penelope as she gave a run down of the victims and the circumstances of their deaths.

The killings were straightforward, the UnSub didn’t try to dispose of the bodies and the men were simply shot in the head execution style. It didn’t seem like the doings of a serial killer who would usually seek some kind of sexual release from torturing and killing their victims. If anything, it seemed like revenge killings.

“They were just shot?” Emily questioned, eyebrows furrowed as she stared at the crime scene photos. 

“Once in the head,” Hotch replied, “there were no witnesses around which suggests the UnSub knew the routine of the victims and the neighbourhood.”

“Could be a stalker?” Penelope suggested.

“Stalker victims are usually the object of a stalker’s affection, they rarely act in violence let alone such a blunt killing,” You replied, confused by the nature of such a straightforward murder.

Spencer flicked through the victim’s files, “the single shot to the head suggests the UnSub just wanted them dead. No physical evidence of sexual release or torture… This could be some kind of revenge killing.”

“Did these victims know each other?” You asked.

“According to their parents, they came from the same friend group,” Penelope replied. 

“Wheels up in thirty. Garcia, you're coming with us. Get your go bag,” Hotch said, quickly standing up from his chair. Penelope made a small noise of surprise before quickly ushering out of the meeting room. Hotch didn’t usually have Penelope come along but given you were short a very valuable member of your team, Penelope had started coming along more often. Not that you would ever complain having Penelope around. 

You pinned up the last of the crime scene photos on the board, standing back with your hands on your hips. Spencer was writing on the whiteboard next to you, jotting down all the things you knew about the victims and possible motives of the UnSub. Hotch and Morgan were engaging in formalities with the local detectives on the case while Penelope got herself settled in the makeshift office they had set up for the team. 

“The parents of the victims are here,” Emily poked her head into the office. “Y/N, Hotch wants you to talk to Ben and Sarah Miller, I’ve got the Clarks.”

“Alright, I got it,” you replied, letting out a dejected sigh. 

“You okay?” Spencer gently tucked some of your hair behind your ear, turning his full attention to you. You let out another sigh, nodding your head tiredly. “You can do this,” he said quietly, his eyes shifting between yours.

“Yeah, I know,” you smiled softly. Spencer planted a soft kiss on your cheek before leaving the office, leaving Spencer and Penelope alone. 

“...I think she needs a break,” Penelope said after a beat. 

Spencer looked at her, eyebrows furrowed, “what makes you say that?”

Penelope tried to be as inconspicuous as possible, “she’s doing JJ’s job and her own. I mean, I think she’s the right girl for the job but… you know what she’s like.”

Spencer sighed, he knew exactly what you were like. You always held yourself and your work to such a high standard and you often overworked yourself to make everyone happy. “Yeah, I know. I’ll talk to her when we get back to the hotel.”

“I think that’s a great idea, lover boy,” Penelope grinned.

You opened the office door, files in hand. Mr and Mrs Miller immediately stood up as you entered and you gave them a sympathetic smile. Mrs Miller had clearly been crying, still clutching a tissue in her hand while her husband paced around the office.

“Please, have a seat, Mr Miller,” you said gently.

“I’ll stand,” he replied firmly. You decided not to argue and sat down on the chair opposite the couch where Mrs Miller sat.

“Mrs Miller, I’m Agent L/N, I’m with the Behavioural Analysis Unit in the FBI–”

“FBI?” She questioned. “Was Evan in trouble?”

“We suspect he and his friend Daniel were killed by the same person,” you explained. Mrs Miller let out a soft gasp, her hand coming to rest over her mouth. 

“Is it alright if I ask you a few questions about Evan?” You asked. Sarah didn’t say anything but she nodded her head, fresh tears forming in her eyes. “Daniel and Evan knew each other, right?”

“They went to high school together,” Sarah replied, her voice shaking. “They were so excited when they both got into Caltech,” she smiled sadly, fresh tears streaming down her face.

“Do you have any idea who killed our son?” Ben asked, his voice sounding angry.

“That’s what we’re here for,” you said, “we’re here to find who killed your son and why–”

“‘Why”?” Ben repeated, “he was just a kid.”

You sighed softly, “I understand that, sir. We’re just trying to figure out a possible connection.”

“Evan and Daniel were good kids. They would never hurt a fly,” Sarah frowned, sniffling softly as she began crying again. 

“Did Daniel and Evan hang around the same social groups?” You asked, turning your attention to Mr Miller, who was still pacing around the office with his arms crossed. “Maybe in some kind of extracurricular activities?”

“They were both on the college basketball team,” Ben said after a beat. “Why? You think this asshole is going to kill more of these kids?”

“I am just trying to get an idea of the social groups Evan and Daniel were a part of,” you didn’t want to get into the gory details of why you were asking such questions and decided they were both far too emotional for you to keep asking them questions; you would let Hotch handle it. “I need to speak with my team but I’ll be right outside if you need anything.” You rested a hand on Mrs Miller’s shoulder and you couldn’t shake how much you missed JJ doing this part.

You let out a sigh as you left the office, rubbing the tension in the back of your neck. You slowly walked over to Hotch, “Evan was on the Caltech Basketball team, he and Daniel went to high school together and Evan’s parents were adamant he was a good kid. I think he was a good kid, just got involved with the wrong people.”

Hotch let out a breath, “I want you and Prentiss to go to the school, talk to the faculty, basketball team coach, anything you can get.”

You nodded, gesturing to Emily on the other side of the bullpen. She firmly nodded at you and the two of you left for the school.

The team worked the case for two days before another body showed up. Everyone was starting early and finishing late to find the person who was doing this and you worked closely with the detectives and other officers on the case. Hotch gave the profile as soon as the team was certain but given the demographic of the suburban areas he was targeting these boys, it was rather unremarkable. The third body belonged to 21-year-old Oliver Marsh, another Caltech student studying Physics. He was shot once in the head while walking his dog no further than a block from his house. 

You stood in the middle of Oliver’s bedroom staring at the posters and certificates that littered his walls. Spencer rifled through papers on his desk, mostly finding papers related to physics journals and essays for school. Emily and David were downstairs talking to the parents while Hotch and Morgan went to see the crime scene.

You walked over to his bedside table pulling it open. There were a lot of birthday cards and a game boy but what caught your attention was the little clear yellow bottles with white caps. You lifted the first bottle out, reading the label–

“Oliver was taking Oxycodone,” you said softly, catching Spencer’s attention. “...And Escitalopram,” you spun on your heel, showing Spencer the two bottles. Spencer took the bottles from your hands, eyebrows furrowed as he carefully read the labels. “Chronic pain?” you suggested.

“Could be,” Spencer replied. “He could have been taking non-steroidal anti-inflammatories too, they’re typically over the counter.”

You rifled through the drawer again, pulling out a blue box, “Yeah, he was taking Ibuprofen too.”

“We should talk to the parents,” Spencer said. You nodded and the two of you ushered down the stairs to where his parents sat in the living room with David and Emily. “Was Oliver suffering from chronic pain?” Spencer quickly questioned before he even fully made it into the living room.

Oliver’s mother held a tissue to her nose, glancing at Emily with a confused expression. You put your hand on Spencer’s bicep, “Has Oliver injured himself recently? Maybe a fall or injury while playing sports?”

Oliver’s father shook his head, “No, not recently. He’s been on those antidepressants for a few years and takes the codeine when he has– had flare-ups.”

“Flare-ups?” David asked pointedly.

“He was in a car accident four years ago,” Mrs Marsh said, “He was in the passenger seat and was in a coma for two weeks… he hadn’t really been the same after that, got really sad and antisocial… he was in a lot of pain too.”

“He had to stop playing Football and running track, his body just couldn’t keep up,” Mr Marsh added, his eyes glazing over. “He lost a lot of friends, I don’t think I ever saw him hang out with anyone, Physics became everything to him.”

“Do you have evidence of his medical records anywhere?” Spencer asked. “Just so I can look them over.”

“Uh, yeah, of course,” Mrs Marsh stood up, Spencer following her to their home office on the other side of the house.

You sat down across from Mr Marsh, “The accident he was in,” you started, “what happened?”

He looked at you with a pain in his eyes, “He was in the car with some of his friends and they were driving home from a party and it was late. I think they were all…” he hesitated for a moment, “they were all drunk.”

“Who was in the car?” Emily asked, not liking where this was going.

“...Evan Miller and Daniel Clark,” his father began to cry, holding his hand over his mouth. You felt your eyes widen, this was a revenge killing.

“Who was driving, Mr Marsh?” David asked quickly.

“Um, god–” He sniffled softly, “Peter… Peter something, he was older than them, I really don’t remember.”

“Thank you, Mr Marsh,” You stood up, quickly moving to the front door to call Penelope. You pulled out your phone, dialling her number. She picked up after the first ring.

“How may I be of service, oh queen of my country?” she sang, her fingers typing furiously against her keyboard. 

“I need you to look into an accident for me, four years ago,” you said with your hand on your hip. “Oliver Marsh, Daniel Clark and Evan Miller were all in the accident too. See if you can find newspaper articles, news segments, anything– I think we know who the last target is.”

“Right, give me a moment,” Penelope replied. You heard her typing before she stopped, “Oh no…” she mumbled softly.

“What’s wrong, Pen?” You furrowed your brows.

“Peter Harvey,” Penelope sighed, “he’s the last boy… He was driving with three other high school boys; Oliver, Daniel and Evan when they struck an oncoming car and killed a pregnant woman on impact; her husband walked away without a scratch.”

“Shit.” You cursed, “What’s his name?”

“Jonathan Hughes, his wife was Katherine… she was 8 months pregnant, Y/N.” Penelope sounded so pained and you knew she was thinking of you and the small baby you were carrying. “Y/N…”

“I know, Pen… After this case wraps up… I’ll tell everyone,” you replied with a gentle sigh.

“And you’ll take time off?” Penelope sounded like she was lecturing you.

You smiled to yourself, “Yeah, Penelope. I’ll take some time off.”

“Okay… I’ll send Hotch and Morgan Jonathan’s last known address, I’m sending you Peter Harvey’s address–”

Your phone beeped as Penelope sent the address through. “Where would I be without you, Pen?”

“Nowhere good, my love,” you could hear the smile in her voice. You quickly hung up before walking back into the Marsh’s house. 

Emily and David turned to look at you, “We’ve got him.”

“Alright, you guys go, I’ll grab Reid and we’ll be right behind you,” David waved you off and Emily quickly ushered the two of you to the car. 

Emily was speeding toward the address Penelope had given you while you called Hotch and Morgan, filling them in on all the information Penelope had given you. They agreed to go to Jonathan’s address to hopefully intersect him before he left for Peter Harvey. You were always nervous when it came to these parts of the case because you couldn’t control the outcome no matter how hard you tried. A grieving man was going around killing these young men and while it was awful what he was doing; you could sympathise with him and the pain he was feeling over losing his wife and unborn child. 

You instinctively rested a hand over your belly, your thumb stroking the small curve. You couldn’t even imagine how much pain Spencer would be in if he lost you, let alone your child too. You would tell him and you would ask Hotch about taking some time off later in your pregnancy and sitting out of cases like this. 

“Shit he’s already here,” Emily cursed when she noticed Jonathan’s SUV parked a couple of blocks from Peter’s address. “Call Hotch.”

You dialled Hotch’s number and he picked up almost instantly, “What is it, L/N?”

“He’s already here, his SUV is parked a couple blocks down from Peter’s address. He’s already out looking for him,” You quickly said.

“We’re on our way, units are already on route,” he hung up after that. 

Emily pulled the car up on the gutter, the car skidding to a stop. You immediately pushed the door open, holding your gun by your thigh as you ran across the lawn to Peter Harvey’s house. You knocked on the door and a woman answered after a beat.

“Mrs Harvey?” You asked, panting softly.

“Yes?”

“Is your son Peter here?”

“No, he went to the store down the street an hour ago, he should be back soon… What is this about?” She asked, her hand gripping the door in concern.

“We believe someone dangerous may be looking for your son,” Emily said. Mrs Harvey rested her hand over her mouth, a soft gasp leaving her lips.

“Mom?” You spun around and Peter stood with a plastic bag of groceries in his hand in the middle of the lawn.

It all happened almost in slow motion. You saw a figure wearing dark clothes stalking across the lawn and without even thinking, you darted toward Peter as the UnSub pulled the gun out of his coat, aiming it straight at Peter’s head. You could hear Emily yelling at Mrs Harvey to go back inside before she pulled out her gun and aimed it at the UnSub; but it was too late.

You shoved Peter to the ground as he fired, feeling the shot burn through your shoulder as both you and Peter fell to the ground. You instinctively pressed a hand to your burning shoulder, warm blood oozing from the wound and through your fingers. 

“Jonathan Hughes?” You said, your breathing heavy as you tried to fight through the pain. He held his gun right in front of your face.

“Move,” he grunted, his eyes glassy.

“I know what happened to your wife,” you breathed trying to stall him as more police cars with blaring sirens pulled into the street.

“They killed her,” tears streamed down his face and you honestly felt bad for him. 

“It was an accident,” you replied softly.

“They were drunk,” he almost yelled, his hand shaking as his gun was still trained on you.

“I know,” you said, “It was a stupid mistake that haunted them, Jonathan. I know it doesn’t change what happened but these boys–”

“They’re monsters!” he shouted, hot tears streaming down his cheeks.

You saw David and Spencer get out of the car. Spencer’s heart was in his throat when he saw you kneeled on the ground, shielding Peter with your body while your hand and shirt were covered in your own blood. He didn’t even pick up his gun as he began stalking toward you.

“Y/N?” His voice was soft when he called you at first, then it turned to outright concern and anger, “Y/N? No, no!”

David grabbed Spencer’s arm, pulling him back as Spencer fought against him, trying to get to you. It was irrational and it was dangerous. David quickly picked up his walkie, “An agent has been shot, we need an ambulance.”

“Who was shot?!” Penelope’s voice rang out in the car as she spoke to Morgan and Hotch.

“I repeat, agent L/N is shot, we need an ambulance,” David spoke before putting his walkie away to hold Spencer back, pulling him to the ground.

“Morgan! Oh my god!” Penelope felt tears form in her eyes.

“It’s okay, babygirl, she’s going to be alright,” Morgan said, trying to reassure her as Hotch stepped on the accelerator. 

“No, Morgan, you don’t understand–”

“We’re going to get an ambulance–”

“She’s pregnant!” Penelope blurted out, not knowing what else to say for them to understand the gravity of why Penelope was so upset and concerned. 

Hotch hesitated for a moment, “She’s what?”

Penelope let out a shaky breath, “she’s twelve weeks pregnant, Hotch. She wasn’t going to tell anyone until after the case– and now she’s been shot.” Penelope began to cry, holding her hand over her mouth as tears slipped from her eyes.

Hotch hadn’t sped that fast since he found out Foyet was in his house. He cared about his team a lot and he had a soft spot for you even though he wouldn’t admit it. The tires skidded along the road as Hotch pulled on the handbrake, both him and Morgan training their guns on the UnSub as they approached.

Morgan’s heart hurt at the sight of you, your skin slightly paled as blood bloomed from your shoulder, drenching your arm and your hands. You looked so scared as the UnSub trained his gun on you, unmoving. Emily had her gun aimed at the UnSub, yelling for him to put it down.

“Jonathan Hughes!” Morgan’s voice caught your attention. “Put down the gun!”

“Don’t move!” Jonathan shouted, “I’ll shoot her!”

“No you won’t, man,” Morgan shook his head.

“How do you know that!? She’s in my way!” He shouted back.

“She’s pregnant,” Morgan sighed. Your eyes widened as you looked at Morgan, who looked back at you with a sad expression. 

Spencer stopped fighting against David, his breathing evening out as the words fell on his ears. You were pregnant. You were carrying his baby and you got shot and now you had a gun held up in front of your face. Spencer didn’t even realise he was crying, his tears cold against his warm skin. All he could do was watch, there was nothing he could do.

Jonathan glanced at you as you held your hand over your belly. “W-What?”

Morgan reached a hand out as he got closer. “Just like your wife, Jonathan… You wouldn’t kill a pregnant woman like those boys did.” 

Jonathan seemed to dissociate, staring at you with such a hurt expression as Morgan leapt forward, grabbing the gun from Jonathan’s hands and tossing it across the grass. He pushed Jonathan to the ground, pinning his hands behind his back. You let out a breath as you felt yourself grow tired. Emily caught you before you fell the rest of the way to the ground, holding you close to her body as she screamed for a medic. 

“You’re okay, you’re okay,” Emily gently rocked you, “you’re going to be fine.”

“I’m sorry,” you muttered, tears running down your cheeks.

Your eyes were heavy as you attempted to pry them open.

You let out a shaky breath as you finally pulled your eyes open, the smell of disinfectant hit you first, followed by the sounds of beeping. You were in the hospital. You glanced down at your arm, an IV stuck in your arm while a pulse oximeter was clipped to your finger. Despite the fact the doctor had prescribed pain medication, you still felt like shit and your shoulder was killing you.

A soft noise caught your attention and you glanced at the chair next to your bed, Spencer sound asleep in a chair with a hospital blanket draped over him. You smiled softly as you saw the flowers, balloons and plushies littered around your room, most likely a courtesy of Penelope.

“She’s awake,” Morgan smiled, standing in the doorway. 

You grinned at him, “Hi, Derek.”

Morgan slowly walked over to your bed. “Feeling okay, pretty girl?” Morgan gently grabbed your hand, giving it a soft squeeze.

“I’m okay,” you replied. You almost didn’t want to ask but you knew you had to, “...is the baby okay?”

“Your baby is fine,” Morgan replied with a soft smile. You let out a breath of relief as you placed a hand over your tummy protectively. “...You scared the life out of everyone though.”

“I know,” you sighed.

“Especially your lover boy,” Morgan said, “he hasn’t left your side.”

“Sounds like my Spencer,” you laughed softly. 

“Y/N?” Spencer’s voice was laced with sleep as he opened his eyes. He quickly got up, ditching the blanket on the floor to tend to you.

“I’ll leave you to it,” Morgan quickly said before leaving the room.

Spencer’s warm hands cupped your face as he pressed a kiss to your forehead, “I thought I lost you, Y/N.” He let out a breath, pulling away to stare at your face and stroke your cheeks with his thumbs. You reached a hand up to grip his forearm.

“I’m sorry–”

“You don’t need to–”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” Tears formed in your eyes as you stared up at him, searching for any kind of anger or resentment. There wasn’t any, he could never be mad at you.

“I wouldn’t have let you come on the case,” he replied after a beat. “I wouldn’t have let you leave the house.”

“That’s why I didn’t tell you… I knew you would be protective– more protective,” you corrected with a soft smile. 

“I’m aware,” Spencer pulled his lips into a tight smile. “You know the odds of… complications are higher in the first trimester, angel. You should have told me,” he frowned.

“I know, Spence,” you sighed. “I just wanted to make sure I was in the clear before I told you… I understand being shot isn’t necessarily helping with that but–”

“I understand,” he replied. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

You stared at him for a moment, “are you happy?”

“Happy?”

“That I’m pregnant? I know we’re not married and our jobs are crazy but–”

Spencer cut you off by pressing a kiss to your lips, he pulled away slightly, “I’ve never been more happy,” he whispered.

You beamed with happiness, a bright smile tugging on your lips. Spencer hesitantly pressed a hand to your belly, his thumb stroking your tiny bump.

“Penelope thinks it’s a girl,” you muttered.

“...What do you think?” He asked curiously.

“I think she might be right,” you giggled softly.

“You know you can’t actually tell yet,” Spencer said and you rolled your eyes playfully.

“You asked what I thought!” you retorted.

He laughed softly, “Yes, you’re right, you’re right.”

“Mmm, did that taste like poison to admit?”

“Are gunshot victims supposed to be this mouthy?”

a/n: phew! i hope you guys liked it <3 i know i disappeared for a hot minute but here she is!!!

[reidsfilm]

𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐎 𝐌𝐄 — SPENCER REID

PARING: spencer reid x fem reader

WARNINGS: SMUT!! (18+) porn with plot, soft !dom spencer, oral (fem receiving) praise, unprotected sex, cum eating, missionary, spencer being hot as fuck. hotch and rossi being protective dads. establish relationship, sexual harassment.

SUMMARY: The BAU team goes out for a nice night of drinking and fun, but what was supposed to be a fun night turns into you being harassed by a, clearly drunk man, and Spencer's not having any of it. And when you get home, things get pretty steamy.

WORD COUNT : 3,8k

Notes: i just LOVE dom spencer. that's all.

You and the rest of the BAU team are out at a bar, having decided that everyone needed to relax and cool off after a long and exhausting case. Garcia has taken Derek out on the dance floor, accompanied by Emily and JJ. Hotch and Rossi are having a quiet chat by the bar.

While you, your sitting next to Spencer at a table, talking about the latest book Spencer has read.

Spencer had been rambling about the book he was currently reading for a good ten minutes now. It was like he had a whole monologue prepared but it didn't bother you that much honestly. His rants were pretty adorable though, watching the enthusiasm shine in his eyes as he talked about the book.

He was almost finishing up the plot of the book when he suddenly paused. He'd gotten so lost in the discussion that he didn't realize that he'd been talking for so long. "Oh my god, have I been talking this entire time?"

To be fair, you didn't mind him talking nonstop, you found it adorable if anything.

"Yeah, you have," you said with a nod, taking a sip of your drink. "But I don't mind, I think it's kind of cute when you get like that."

His cheeks tinted a light shade of pink at your comment.

"Really?" He asked, trying to avoid eye contact, looking down at his drink. "I didn't realize I was talking so much. You were paying attention right?" He questioned before looking back up at you, those wide brown eyes piercing into your own.

Those beautiful honey-eyed eyes that always had so much to say.

"Of course I was," you replied, a small smile tugging at your lips. "I always pay attention, Spence."

You took a moment to admire his flustered expression before taking another sip of your drink.

Even though he felt a sense of embarrassment, he secretly enjoyed the fact that you found him adorable.

"Well, you didn't stop me," He mumbled, taking a quick sip of his own drink in a failed attempt to hide his blush. "I could have gone on for hours."

Oh, you definitely knew he could do that.

A soft laugh escaped your lips. "I know you could," you said, shaking your head in amusement. "I wouldn't expect anything less from you."

You moved your stool slightly closer to him, your knee brushing against his under the table.

The slight contact between your knee and his sent a jolt of pleasure through his body, causing his blush to deepen.

He tried to play it cool, taking another sip of his drink, but he couldn't help the smirk that tugged at the corners of his lips.

"You enjoyed listening though, didn't you?"

"Of course I did," you replied, a sly smile on your face. "I like hearing you ramble on about all your nerdy stuff. It's cute."

You placed your hand on his thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze.

''Well, aren't you two just adorable.'' Your head perked up at an unfamiliar voice, your eyes landing on a man, probably around his early forties. His hair was almost completely grey, which might be due to the stress, or old age might just catch up to him quicker than he thinks. He had a sleezy smile on his face, his eyes dilated, indicating that he was most likely drunk.

Of course, you were profiling him. Working at BAU has made you do it daily when you interact with others, without even knowing it.

''Can we help you?'' You questioned, swirling your plastic straw around in your drink. The man fully turned his attention to you, and you felt a chill run up your spine at the way he was ogling you, his eyes moving to your cleavage.

The man's expression didn't change, his sleazy smile still in place. "Just admiring the view," he replied, his words practically slurred due to being so drunk.

His eyes remained fixed on you, shamelessly ogling you, seemingly ignoring Spencer's presence.

''Right... well if you haven't noticed, I'm very much a taken woman.'' You said, gesturing with your chin, pointing at Spencer.

The man's smile faded slightly as he finally turned his gaze to Spencer. He looked him up and down, a hint of amusement in his eyes, as if Spencer couldn't possibly be enough to keep you.

"Is that so?" the man asked, his voice still slurred. "And how do I know that's true? You could just be saying that to get rid of me."

Spencer's grip on his drink tightened, and his jaw clenched, trying to maintain his composure. He knew this creep wasn't worth wasting his energy on, but he was struggling to keep his cool.

"We're together," he responded, his voice firm and cold. "And you need to back off."

The man chuckled at Spencer's words, the alcohol in his system making him more confident than he should be.

He leaned in closer to you, his hand reaching out to grab your arm, attempting to pull you up from your chair. Your eyes widened as you reached for his hand, trying to pry it off of your arm. ''Hey! Don't touch me.'' You stated firmly.

The man didn't let up, his grip on your arm only tightening as he pulled you slightly out of your chair. "Aw, come on, sweetheart, don't be like that," he cooed, his sleazy smile growing wider. "I just want to have a chat, that's all."

Spencer, at this point, was absolutely seething at the man's audacity. He couldn't believe how forward and aggressive this creep was being.

"Let go of her," he said, his voice low and dangerous, standing up from his chair. "Now."

Spencer's actions were quick and precise. In a swift movement, he reached out and grabbed the man's arm, forcefully twisting it behind his back. With a firm push, he slammed the man's chest against the bar counter, the man's head hitting the hard surface with a thud.

The people around them stopped what they were doing and turned to watch, murmurs of shock and surprise filling the air.

The man struggled against Spencer's grip, trying to break free, but Spencer was stronger and more determined. He pressed the man's cheek more firmly against the counter, his free hand resting on the back of the man's neck to keep him pinned in place.

You'd never seen Spencer quite like this before, he could be a little rough if he wanted to, but this? This was Spencer's possessive side breaking out. And you? You found it very... hot.

"I warned you not to touch her," Spencer growled, his voice dark and venomous.

Hotch and Rossi, who had been sitting a bit further down the bar, had immediately heard the commotion and turned to see what was happening. They saw the scene unfold with a mix of surprise and sternness.

Hotch's expression hardened as he got up from his seat, Rossi following suit. They walked over to where Spencer was holding the man against the counter, their steps filled with an authoritative presence.

Both Hotch and Rossi immediately recognized the situation upon approach. Hotch's eyes flicked over the man pinned to the counter before shifting to you, silently checking if you were okay.

You just gave him a small nod, a silent indication that you were okay.

Rossi's face darkened as he observed the scene, his voice firm when he spoke. "What's going on here?"

Spencer, who was still holding the man in place, glanced up at them. "This creep was harassing her," he replied, his voice low and filled with anger. "He wouldn't back off when I told him she was taken, and then he had the audacity to grab her."

Rossi's face tightened at the explanation, his eyes narrowing in annoyance. He looked down at the man, who was still struggling against Spencer's grip.

"Is that true?" Rossi asked, his voice low and stern.

The man mumbled something incomprehensible, clearly not in a state to form a proper response.

Hotch's expression remained stoic, his gaze fixed on the man as he attempted to mumble out a response. He noticed the man's obvious drunkenness and took a step closer.

"Are you drunk, sir?" Hotch asked, keeping his tone even and authoritative.

The man's attempts at speaking were slurred and incoherent, his head still pinned against the counter. There was no denying that he was highly intoxicated.

"I... I had a few drinks," he managed to mutter out, struggling briefly under Spencer's grip again.

"More than a few, I'd say," Spencer grumbled, squeezing the man's wrist tighter to discourage any further escape attempts.

Hotch and Rossi exchanged a knowing glance, both aware that the man was too drunk to deny any of the accusations against him.

Rossi crossed his arms, his eyes fixated on the man in Spencer's grip. "You realize you're causing a scene, right?" he asked, his voice stern.

The man, still pinned to the counter, groaned, trying to twist his head to look at Rossi. "I just... wanted to talk to her," he managed to say, his words slurred and thick.

"There are better ways to approach someone without being a creep," Rossi stated bluntly, his patience with the man starting to wear thin.

Hotch took a step closer to Spencer and the man, his gaze unwavering. "I think it's time you apologize," he said firmly.

The man let out another groan. "Fine, fine... I'm sorry," he muttered, his voice low and resentful.

Spencer, however, didn't loosen his grip, his eyes narrowed as he looked at the man. He wasn't convinced by the man's half-hearted apology.

Hotch noted Spencer's tight grip and the lack of sincerity in the man's apology. He placed a hand on Spencer's shoulder, silently signaling him to ease up a bit.

"Let him go, Reid," Hotch said, his voice quiet but assertive.

Spencer was reluctant to let go, his anger still boiling within him. But he knew Hotch's authority, and he wasn't in a position to argue. With a small huff, he slackened his grip and took a few steps back, allowing the man to raise his head from the counter.

The man, now freed from Spencer's hold, groaned again as he pushed himself off the counter, his balance unstable from the mix of alcohol and the rough treatment. He stumbled back a few steps, leaning against the bar for support.

Rossi watched the man carefully, his eyes sharp and calculating. "I think it would be best if you left," he said, his voice firm.

The man, still swaying slightly, grumbled something under his breath before pushing himself off the bar counter and stumbling away, leaving a trail of muttered curses and unsteady balance in his wake.

You took your bag from where it was hanging onto the chair, slinging it onto your shoulder before stepping over to Spencer. You could tell he was still angry, his jaw clenched and his posture tense.

You placed a hand on his arm, ''Hey...'' You said gently as you squeezed his arm, ''Can we go home?''

Spencer turned to look at you, the anger seemingly slipping from his features as they softened. His brown eyes softened as he looked at you, ''Yeah, yeah, let's go home.''

You nodded in agreement, giving his arm another small squeeze before releasing it, slipping your hand down to lace your fingers with his. Then you both made your way over to Hotch and Rossi to say your goodbyes.

"We're gonna head out," you said, pointing with your head over to the exit.

Hotch glanced between the two of you, his expression becoming a bit softer. "Alright, take care."

Rossi nodded in agreement, his gaze moving from you to Spencer.

"You two stay out of trouble, alright?" he teased, earning a slight roll of the eyes from Spencer. You just chuckled as you started walking, looking over your shoulder at the two older men, ''Can't make any promises.''

The late-night air in your apartment was thick with anticipation as Spencer's usual awkwardness had given way to a powerful, unrestrained passion. The adrenaline from the bar had left a tangible energy between you two, a charged electricity that seemed to buzz through the air. The door slammed shut behind you, and the moment you were alone, Spencer wasted no time in showing you just how much he needed you.

He pulled you into a fervent kiss, his hands gripping your waist with an urgent intensity. His lips were hot and demanding against yours, his tongue sweeping in with a possessive hunger. You could feel the heat of his desire radiating off him, his cock pressing insistently against your lower belly.

He was kissing you like he was a man-starved— and that he was.

''Fuck, you’re so hot,'' Spencer growled against your lips, his voice rough with lust. ''I need you so badly.''

He backed you towards the wall, his hands working quickly to undress you. His fingers fumbled with the buttons of your blouse, but his frustration only heightened the urgency in his movements. When your blouse finally fell open, exposing your bare skin, he looked at you with a hungry appreciation. His eyes traveled over your body, lingering on your exposed cleavage and the curve of your hips.

''You're so perfect,'' he muttered, his voice hushed but filled with a raw edge. His hands traced the contours of your body, his touch both reverent and greedy. He slid his fingers along your collarbone, down to the swell of your breasts, and gently cupped them, his thumbs brushing over your nipples.

You gasped, your body arching towards his touch as he squeezed gently. ''Spencer, please,'' you whimpered, your voice trembling with desire. ''I need more. Please... please give me more.''

''I'll give you anything you want, anything.'' He muttered lowly as his hands moved to the waistband of your jeans. He undid the button and zipper with a rough urgency, pulling them down your legs and tossing them aside. You stepped out of them, your skin tingling with the cool air of the room.

''Fuck, you’re so wet,'' Spencer said, his voice dropping to a growl as he ran his fingers through your slick folds. His touch was electrifying, the rough pad of his fingertips teasing your clit. ''Is this all for me, hm?'' He crooned and you couldn't form a single coherent sentence, so all you managed to do was nod. Spencer chuckled at your obvious lack of verbal response, finding it adorable.

He knelt in front of you, his hands parting your legs with a firm grip. His eyes were dark with desire as he looked at you, his breath hot against your inner thighs. ''You’re driving me insane,'' he said, his voice rough with need. ''I want to make you come all over my face.''

That just made you all the more wet— you were practically Niagara Falls at this point. Spencer lifted one of your legs, draping it over his shoulder, pulling your aching and needy pussy closer to his mouth.

He didn't give you any time to react before he dived right in, flicking his tongue over your clit. The sensation of his tongue on your clit was overwhelming. He licked and sucked with a hungry fervor, his mouth moving in a relentless rhythm. The pressure and heat of his mouth on you made you gasp, your hands reaching out to grab at his curly brown hair, tugging at the strands.

''Spencer, oh my god.'' you moaned, your fingers tugging harder onto his hair and pulling his mouth even closer if that was possible. ''Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.''

He growled in response, his tongue moving faster and more insistently. His hands gripped your hips, holding you steady as you bucked against his face. The intensity of his touch, the pressure of his mouth, had you gasping and writhing with pleasure. You felt your climax approaching, your body trembling with the force of it.

''I'm gonna come... fuck.'' You moaned as you threw your head back. Your words only make Spencer more relentless in getting you to reach that high. His hands move to clutch at your ass, his nails digging into the flesh.

When you finally came, your body shuddered with the intensity of your orgasm. Spencer continued to lap at you, his tongue moving slowly to draw out every last wave of pleasure. You moaned and gasped, your breathing coming in ragged bursts.

He looked up at you with a satisfied grin, his face flushed and his chin glistening with your release. ''You taste incredible,'' he said, his voice low and thick with desire. ''I want you to feel amazing, to know how much I fucking want you.''

As soon as Spencer got back on his feet, still holding onto your hips to keep your wobbly legs steady, you reached for his pants, eager to return the favor. With trembling hands, you undid his belt and pulled his pants and underwear down. His cock sprang free, already hard and dripping with pre-cum. You wrapped your fingers around him, feeling the heat and weight of him in your hand.

Spencer’s eyes fluttered shut as you stroked him, his breath coming in quick, sharp intakes. ''Fuck, that feels so good,'' he groaned, his hands resting on your hips as you worked him. ''I need to be inside you.''

You gave him a teasing smile, leaning in to whisper against his ear. ''I want to feel you inside me. I want you to fuck me hard.''

With a low growl, Spencer guided you to your shared bedroom, to the bed, his movements both urgent and deliberate. He laid you down, spreading your legs wide as he positioned himself between them

You reached up to remove his shirt, your hands trembling as you undid the buttons. Spencer watched you, his lips curving up a little. He took hold of your hands, stopping you. ''We've got all the time in the world, baby. Relax.'' He cooed softly as he leaned down to press a few kisses to your knuckles.

''Sorry... just really want you.'' You mumbled, a sheepish look on your face. Spencer chuckled, letting go of your hands and placing a soft kiss on your forehead, ''Believe me, I want you just as bad.'' He mumbled before pulling back to look at you, undoing the last of the buttons before shedding off his shirt, and tossing it to the floor. Now the two of you were both completely naked.

Spencer placed his hand on your chest, nudging you down so you were fully laid out on the bed, propping yourself up against the pillows. His brown eyes skimmed over you, taking in your naked body laid out beneath him.

''Now, I'm gonna fuck you so hard you can't think straight.'' His cock was heavy as it teased your entrance, and he looked down at you with a fierce, possessive gaze. You bit your lip as you looked up at him.

''You ready?'' He questioned and you simply nodded.

He pushed into you slowly, the sensation of him filling you completely was both overwhelming and exhilarating. His cock stretched you perfectly, each inch filling you up. You gasped as your head tilted back against the pillows, your hands gripping the sheets. Spencer's own hands moved to grip the plush flesh of your hips tightly, holding you in place as he began to move.

''Fuck, you’re so tight,'' he groaned, his voice strained with lust. His thrusts were deep and relentless, each one making you gasp and cry out. The bed creaked beneath you, the sounds of your passion filling the room.

His hands roamed over your body, gripping your breasts and pinching your nipples with a roughness that sent jolts of pleasure through you.

''Tell me how much you want this,'' he demanded, his voice low and commanding.

God did he sound hot when he was being like this. It always surprised you to see this side of your nerdy, dorky, and all in all sweet and doting boyfriend. But it never ceased to amaze you how well he took on the role of being dominant and assertive.

“I want it so much,” you gasped, your voice trembling with the intensity of the moment. ''I need you, Spencer.''

''Yeah? My pretty baby needs me, hm?'' He cooed as he pulled out before slamming back in, making you arch your back, your breasts pressing up against his chest. ''Spencer...'' You moaned softly, your hands tightening their hold on the sheets.

''Come one, baby, you're so close aren't you?'' You let out a breathless moan as his pace quickened, his thrusts getting rougher, his cock kissing your cervix. ''Yes... yes... so close.'' You babbled out.

''Come, come around my cock like a good girl,'' Spencer demanded as he continued his relentless and hard thrusts, leaning down to capture your lips. Your hands let go of the sheets, drifting up into his brown locks, clutching onto the strands of hair. A particularly hard thrust made your mouth open more, allowing Spencer to slip his tongue inside. Your tongues battling against each other, swirling around one another.

Your climax was close, you could feel it— could feel the tight coil in your stomach about to burst. One of Spencer's hands moved from your hips to your breast, kneading at the flesh, groping and pinching your nipple. ''Fuck... I'm gonna cum.'' You mumbled against his lips before your orgasm came crashing over you. Spencer's lips silenced your wanton moan. Your vision went completely white as the blissful feeling washed over you, your body shuddering as your release coated his cock.

Spencer pulled away from your lips, both of you breathless as he was seeking out his own release. ''I'm right behind you, baby.'' His forehead pressed against yours as his thrusts grew more sloppy and unsynched, ''Just. A. Few. More.'' He said between each thrust before he reached his own peak, his cum coating your gummy walls as he came with a shuddering growl.

You felt the warmth of him, his cock twitching as he filled you completely.

As he collapsed onto you, his weight pressing you into the bed, you could feel the lingering warmth of his cum inside you. Spencer’s hands moved gently over your skin, his touch tender and soothing after the rough intensity of his movements.

''Did I hurt you?'' he asked softly, his voice filled with concern as he brushed a strand of hair from your face.

You looked up at him, your eyes filled with affection and satisfaction. ''No, you didn’t hurt me. You were amazing, per usual.''

He smiled, a mixture of relief and contentment in his brown eyes. ''I’m glad. I just wanted you to know how much I care about you. I never want to see you hurt.''

You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him closer. ''You were really fucking hot when you manhandled that guy at the bar.'' You muttered, slotting your bottom lip between your teeth as you looked up at him.

He looked down at you, a smirk forming on his lips, ''Yeah? You thought it was hot?'' You nodded in response, pulling him down to meet your lips in a soft kiss before you relaxed your forehead against his.

''Yeah, it's a shame you didn't have handcuffs on you. Would've loved to see you go all bad cop on him.'' You giggled as you looked at him.

Spencer chuckled, giving your cheek a chaste kiss, ''I'll remember that next time a guy tries putting his hands on my girl.''

''Mhm.. I'd love to see that.''

[reidsworld]

Unveiled Secrets

Summary: The BAU team has a sneaking suspicion that their stoic leader, Aaron Hotchner, is in a relationship, but they don't know the extent of it.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!Reader

Category: Fluff

Content Warnings: Jack and Haley do not exist in this, kissing, cuddling, allusions to sex, light teasing, use of Y/N, pet names (my love, baby), that’s it I think, lmk if I missed any! Oh and pure fluff!

Word Count: 1.8k

Mars speaks… hi my loves, I was motivated to write so I am using this to figure out my writing style a bit and how I want to format my works! I’ve been going through a bit of a Hotch phase lately so I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Masterlist

The BAU office was slowly quieting down as the day turned to dusk, the last rays of sunlight casting long shadows across the desks. Aaron Hotchner, head of the Behavioral Analysis Unit, stood in his office, the soft light of his desk lamp highlighting the stress lines that had deepened over the years. He checked his watch—almost time to go home. A rare, soft smile touched his lips, a sight reserved for only one person.

He closed the case file on his desk, slipping it neatly into his briefcase before reaching for his jacket. His phone buzzed just as he picked it up, and he glanced at the screen to see a text from you, Can’t wait to see you. Should I pick up dinner?

That smile of his deepened as he quickly typed a reply, I’ll pick it up on my way home. See you soon, my love.

He hadn’t planned on keeping his relationship with you a secret, nor did he have any grand strategy for revealing it. He assumed that given time, his team would figure it out on their own. After all, they were profilers—eventually, they would notice the subtle shifts in his behaviour, the unexplained absences, the slightly more relaxed demeanour after particularly stressful cases. He hadn’t intended to hide it forever, just until they pieced it together.

As he opened the door to his office, however, he nearly collided with Spencer Reid, who was walking by, engrossed in a file. Reid looked up, startled, his eyes wide with surprise.

"Sorry, Hotch! I didn’t see you there."

"It’s alright, Reid," Hotch replied, a calmness in his voice that belied the momentary flicker of surprise in his eyes. He wasn’t often caught off-guard, especially not in the safety of his own office.

Reid, however, had a habit of noticing things others missed. His eyes flickered to the phone still in Hotch’s hand, the screen just dimming from inactivity. Before Hotch could slip it into his pocket, Reid’s sharp eyes caught your name on the screen. His brow furrowed in confusion as he processed the information.

“Y/N, as in the academy’s Y/N?” Reid asked, the question out of his mouth before he could stop himself.

Hotch froze for a fraction of a second, but it was enough for Reid’s sharp mind to pick up on the anomaly. Reid’s brain worked at lightning speed, connecting dots that others might have missed. He knew Hotch was fiercely private, but this reaction was new.

“Goodnight Reid” Aaron replied, quickly, shutting down any further questioning that may have come from the young genius.

Reid blinked, taken aback, but his curiosity was now piqued. However, years of working with Hotch had taught him when to push and when to back off. “Have a good evening, Hotch.”

As Reid walked away, Hotch let out a slow breath. This wasn’t how he wanted the team to find out, though he couldn’t say he was surprised. He had always assumed it would be Reid who would notice first; the young profiler missed nothing. Still, he had hoped for a bit more time. But the cat was out of the bag now, and he knew it wouldn’t be long before the rest of the team found out.

The next morning, the BAU office was abuzz with more than the usual activity. Reid’s brief encounter with Hotch had set off a flurry of curiosity and speculation among the team. They were profilers, after all, and even the smallest clues could ignite their imaginations.

“I’m telling you, something’s definitely going on with Hotch,” Reid said as the team gathered in the bullpen before their morning briefing. He couldn't shake the image of your name on Hotch's phone from his mind.

JJ, trying to keep things under control, said, “Come on, guys, it could just be a friend. It doesn’t have to mean anything.”

Morgan leaned back in his chair, a knowing grin on his face. “Reid’s onto something. Hotch has been acting a bit differently lately. He’s not staying late like he used to.”

“And he’s been smiling more often,” Garcia added, her excitement barely contained. “The man’s practically glowing sometimes.”

Rossi, with a teasing tone, suggested, “Maybe he’s just getting better sleep. But I have to admit, there’s definitely something different.”

Garcia’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “Don’t you want to know? If Hotch is seeing someone, that’s huge!”

Rossi shrugged, still smirking. “Of course, I’m curious. But let’s give him some space. If he wants us to know, he’ll tell us. And if we’re lucky, we might even get to meet her.”

Prentiss grinned, "Do you think it’s serious? Like, she’s ‘the one’?”

“I think,” Rossi said thoughtfully, “if Aaron is keeping this under wraps, it’s because it’s important to him. He wouldn’t be so secretive if it wasn’t serious.”

Just then, Hotch entered the bullpen, and the conversation quickly shifted to a quieter, more focused buzz. The team members turned to their desks, but the air was charged with unspoken questions and speculative glances. Hotch, sensing the change in atmosphere, gave a brief nod before heading to his office.

As the day dragged on with paperwork and case briefings, the undercurrent of curiosity remained. The team exchanged looks, clearly eager to discuss Hotch’s secret, but they were careful to avoid bringing it up directly. The excitement about Hotch’s personal life was palpable, and everyone was waiting for the right moment to address the topic.

Later that evening, Aaron finally headed home after a long day. As he walked through the front door, he found you curled up on the couch, a blanket draped over your legs, and a glass of wine in your hand. You looked up from the book you were reading, a smile spreading across your face when you saw him.

“Hi, baby, how was your day?” you asked, setting the book aside as he walked over to you.

“Tiring,” he admitted, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. “And eventful. Reid saw a text from you last night.”

Your eyes widened in surprise. “Oh no. What did he say?”

“He asked if it was from you,” Aaron said, sitting down beside you. “I shut him down, but I think I gave myself away. The team’s been acting strange all day.”

You chuckled, leaning your head on his shoulder. “So, they’re onto us?”

He nodded, slipping an arm around you and pulling you closer. “It was bound to happen eventually. I just didn’t expect it to be now.”

“I’m surprised they didn’t figure it out sooner,” you said, your fingers tracing patterns on his chest. “They are profilers, after all.”

He smiled down at you, his expression softening. “I never planned on keeping it a secret forever. I just figured they’d figure it out on their own time.”

“So, what’s the plan?” you asked with a playful grin.

He sighed, his thumb rubbing gentle circles on your shoulder. “I suppose it’s time to tell them. They’re already curious, and I’d rather they hear it from me than through rumours.”

“You know they’ll be happy for you,” you said, squeezing his hand. “For us.”

“I know,” he agreed. “But there’s a part of me that’s nervous. I’ve always kept my personal life separate from work, but with you… it’s different.”

You leaned up and kissed him softly, the warmth of the moment lingering between you. “We’ll do it together, then. When you’re ready.”

Aaron’s gaze softened, but a playful glint sparkled in his eyes as he pulled you closer. “Right now, I want to do anything but think about the team,” his voice dropped to a low murmur.

You felt the heat of his words and smiled, leaning in closer. “Sounds perfect,” you whispered, as he nuzzled against you, his lips brushing yours with a grin.

A few days later, Rossi had decided to host a dinner party for the team. The team was eager to catch up and enjoy the evening. Aaron knew it was the perfect opportunity to introduce you to the team as his girlfriend. 

As the doorbell rang, Rossi answered the door to find Hotch standing beside you. As you both entered the living room, the atmosphere in the room shifted instantly as Hotch introduced you with a genuine smile.

“I’d like you to meet Y/N, my girlfriend,” Hotch said, his voice steady but warm. 

The room fell into a stunned silence before erupting into excitement. Garcia’s face lit up with recognition and delight. “Oh my God! It’s Y/N! I knew it was someone! This is incredible!”

Morgan’s grin widened as he approached. “So, this is the elusive woman behind Hotch’s new smile! You’ve been keeping us in the dark for too long, Hotch.”

JJ smiled warmly as she extended her hand. “It’s wonderful to finally meet you, Y/N, we’re really happy for both of you.”

Reid, ever the profiler, couldn’t resist asking, “How long have you two been together?”

Hotch laughed softly, putting an arm around you and smiling fondly. “Almost five months now. Y/N works as the unit chief for the BSU in the academy. I met her when she invited me to guest lecture.”

Garcia’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “I knew it! You two have that perfect power couple vibe. We have to plan another get-together so we can hang out more!”

Rossi, enjoying the moment, gave Hotch a friendly pat on the back. “Well, I guess this means you won’t be around for poker nights as often.”

Hotch chuckled. “I’ll still make time for poker nights, don’t worry.”

As the evening continued, the team enjoyed getting to know you better. The atmosphere was filled with laughter, light-hearted teasing, and genuine happiness for Hotch and you.

“So, when do we get to do this again?” Garcia asked eagerly.

Hotch smiled, feeling content. “Soon. We’ve been talking about having you all over for dinner. Now seems like the perfect time.”

As the team chatted and enjoyed the evening, Aaron felt a weight lift off his shoulders. Introducing you to his team had been a significant step, but their warmth and support made it all worthwhile. The thought of merging his work family with his personal life filled him with quiet joy.

As the party wound down and the team began to leave, Morgan gave Hotch a sly grin. “You know, Hotch, we’re happy for you, but don’t think we won’t give you a hard time about keeping this a secret for so long.”

Hotch chuckled, appreciating the camaraderie. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

With that, the team said their goodbyes and headed home, their spirits high. Hotch followed them, feeling grateful for the support of his team and looking forward to the future with you.

Mars speaks... (again) Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it! Also, would anyone be interested if I wrote for other fandoms such as F1 and Marvel? Any feedback is greatly appreciated🫶

[pathologicalreid]

nicknames | S.R.

in which you meet the team for the first time, and receive your first nickname

who? spencer reid x fem!BAU!reader

category: fluff

content warnings: reader is referred to as a girl. i have this headcanon where when reid's IQ gets slashed to 60, he'd get so distracted that he'd run on autopilot, hence the willingness to handshake.

word count: 591

a/n: happy finals szn! this fic has been rotting in my brain for weeks and i finally decided to flesh it out. and maybe you should like and reblog this if you enjoy it (no pressure tho)

You were still filtering through your entry paperwork when the rest of the team filtered into the bullpen. David Rossi, who had helped you land this job in the first place, nodded in your direction before disappearing into his office. “Hey!” Someone called from across the bullpen, “Y/N, right?” Emily asked, setting her go bag in the chair at her desk before making her way over to your desk.

Smiling in response, “It’s nice to finally meet you,” you responded, reaching your hand out for her to shake. It was nice to be in the BAU, complete with a promotion from Special Agent to Supervisory Special Agent.

JJ walked over next, waving, and introducing herself as the communications liaison. “I’ve heard a lot of great things from your old CARD team,” she said, “I’m sure your skillset will come in handy here.”

You nodded in affirmation, “That’s the hope!” You answered, smiling at the prospect of your old team singing your praises.

Next, Derek approached, reaching out his hand for you to shake. Of course, you obliged and grinned at him. Part of you felt like you were meeting celebrities, the BAU was a big deal in the bureau. “Derek Morgan,” he introduced himself, “How long were you with CARD?”

“Five years,” you responded, it was a long time for anyone to deal solely with child abduction, but your team had the best rate in the bureau. Besides, you found the work rewarding.

Morgan’s eyebrows raised in surprise, “that’s impressive.”

You nodded, “Thank you. I’m really looking forward to working with you all.”

JJ looked behind her, “Oh, have you met Garcia?” She asked, peeking around the corner to where the technical analyst's office was.

Glancing down at the cat-shaped stress toy that she had given you when you arrived this morning, you smiled, “Yes, she was the first to greet me this morning. I think I’m just missing Dr. Reid.”

As if on cue, the young doctor walked into the bullpen, he had a worn leather satchel over his shoulder and looked like he might be talking to himself, “Reid!” Emily called over, getting his attention, and causing him to change course, approaching your desk. “Come meet, Y/N.”

He adjusted the strap of his satchel over his sweater before you reached out your hand for him to shake. “Oh, he doesn’t…” JJ began, but her voice trailed off when Dr. Reid shook your hand.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Dr. Reid,” you said, smiling at him. It felt good to know you had finally met the entire team.

He gave a close-lipped smile in return, “Reid is fine, or Spencer.” He said as you each dropped your hands to your sides.

Noticing everyone looking back and forth between the two of you as if you had already managed to do something wrong, you gathered all of your paperwork in your hands, “I should get this to Hotch.”

The rest of the team got the message and started to disperse to their respective desks, Reid’s being adjacent to yours. “Welcome to the team, pretty girl,” Morgan said to you before turning to his own paperwork.

You hugged your paperwork to your chest as if you were protecting it. Quietly, you muttered, “I really hope that nickname doesn’t stick.”

Across from you, there was a short laugh, almost a scoff. “It will,” Spencer responded in the same reverent tone. For a second, you thought it might be a joke, but you could tell by his facial expression that he was serious.

[vigilante-3073]

Obsessive Compulsivity

Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Summary: Y/N has OCD and often struggles with her disorder in the workplace. Spencer looks out for her and ensures that no one is able to mess with her.

TW: Mentions of OCD/compulsions/feelings/panic attacks, disrespectful behavior, pranks, Spencer being a sweetheart.

Y/N had been diagnosed with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder when she was only fifteen years old. Y/N had struggled with her compulsions for years before she was able to get on medication. Y/N lived with a persistent feeling of intense anxiety and distress, the medication helped but the side effects seemed to outweigh the good ones.

Y/N had been in psychotherapy since her diagnosis and was able to cope with her condition, but it still effected her day to day life.

Y/N had a few particular compulsions that Spencer kept an eye on. He noticed that she gave into her compulsions more when she was stressed or upset. In their line of work it was important to look out for one another and he tried to be there for her as much as he could.

Y/N needed everything to be in threes.

She checked her door three times to make sure it was locked, washed her hands three times, clicked her pen three times in a row and a few other things. Her apartment was spotless, all the cans were facing out in her pantry, hangers were equally spaced in her closet and book spines were all aligned on her shelves.

Y/N cleaned her apartment every day, unable to rest until everything was in it's proper place. Her desk in the bullpen was spotless, everything aligned properly in perfect symmetry. It really bothered her when other people touched her things, but she tried to be kind about it.

Morgan tended to take advantage of that.

He stood in front of Y/N's desk in the bullpen, shifting around the items on her desktop while she was in the office with Hotch.

"What are you doing?" Emily asked, Spencer looked up from his paperwork.

"Wind her up and watch her go," Morgan smirked.

"You're an ass," Emily said, shaking her head.

"I'll bet you twenty bucks that she doesn't make it a minute without putting everything back like it was," Morgan said.

"I'm not betting," Emily replied.

"Why not?" Morgan questioned.

"Because it's mean and juvenile," Spencer stated.

"It may be juvenile, but it's not mean, it's- Oh, here she comes," Morgan said, quickly returning to his seat as the door to Hotch's office opened.

Y/N walked down the stairs and made her way over to her desk, she froze in place as she stared at everything. Morgan watched her out of the corner of his eye, glancing over to Emily.

Y/N's eyes flickeed from item to item as she reached out and adjusted things. She returned the items to their proper place, tapping them three times as she moved them.

"Stop touching my things, Morgan," Y/N said, pulling out her chair and sitting down.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, sweetheart," He replied.

Y/N huffed, setting her files down and looking around at her things. Spencer watched her spend the next hour adjusting her items minutely, unable to focus on anything else until it was fixed.

Y/N was far too nice to do anything to get back at Morgan, but Spencer was always willing to help out a friend.

..

Later that day Spencer loosened the screws on the back of Morgan's chair, waiting patiently for him to return to his desk. Spencer almost felt giddy when he saw Morgan make his way over to his seat.

He sat down in the chair and leaned back, the backrest popped off and Morgan flailed his arms in the air as he fell onto the ground.

Morgan landed on his back, legs caught up on the seat of his desk chair as he looked around with a confused look on his face.

Emily laughed, covering her mouth with her hand as JJ sprang up from the edge of Emily's desk. Y/N turned around in her chair quickly and Spencer allowed a satisfied smile to settle on his face.

"Are you okay?" JJ asked.

Morgan stood up, "Somebody messed with my chair," He stated.

"He's fine," Emily smiled, shaking her head and returning to her paperwork.

"Who screwed with my chair?" Morgan asked.

JJ bent down and picked up the backrest of his chair from the floor, "The whole back fell off," She said.

JJ looked down at the floor, noticing the set of black screws on the carpeted ground, "Even the screws came out," JJ stated.

"You must have really pissed someone off," Emily said, not looking up from her desk.

Y/N looked over at Spencer, "Did you do that?" She asked quietly.

Spencer shrugged, "Just seems like karmic justice to me," He replied, sending her a wink.

Y/N felt her cheeks flush as she turned her attention back to the case files on her desk.

Over the next few months, Spencer became Y/N's avenging angel whenever Morgan decided to mess with her. Morgan tended to push the envelope with Y/N and Spencer absolutely hated it.

Y/N was a bit of a pushover and had always allowed people to walk all over her without a peep. Y/N deserved to have someone stand up for her and Spencer was happy to be that person.

Spencer expected Morgan to back off after a few innocent pranks, but he just wouldn't back down and Spencer chose not to either. He had changed out the sugar for salt in Morgan's coffee, added itching powder to his clothes in the locker room and had even superglued his pens to the top of his desk.

Spencer was honestly starting to get tired of thinking up new ways to mess with him. Y/N knew that Spencer was continuing to look out for her, she asked him to let it go, but he couldn't stand the idea of Morgan using her condition for his own amusement.

...

Morgan did not understand her condition until he saw how it truly effected her while they were out on a case.

The team had been on a case that required them to locate an unpredictable and dangerous unsub. Theories were thrown around and a long list of suspects gradually became smaller as more information was uncovered. The team finally reached the most likely suspect and a few searches from Garcia proved that they had their man.

The members of the BAU found themselves surrounding the man, snipers set up in the building across the street. Y/N had been trained in hostage negotiation and de-escalation, the unsub suffered from delusions and the team thought that Y/N may be able to get through to him.

Y/N was a profiler and did not carry a gun, she worked in the office and only went out into the field when the team deemed it necessary. Hotch ordered her to stay close to Morgan, putting her in a bulletproof FBI vest to ensure her safety.

The conversation had been going well and Y/N was beginning to establish a rapport. Suddenly a loud noise from nearby made the unsub jumpy and he became aware of how many officers surrounded him. He drew a weapon and everyone yelled at him to drop it, the man ignored them and charged towards law enforcement.

The sniper took aim and fired a shot, sending the unsub's blood splattering onto Y/N. She froze, eyes glossing over with tears as a nauseous feeling settled in her stomach.

Morgan stepped in front of her, looking her over for injuries, "Are you okay?" He asked.

"It got on me," Y/N stated softly, her hands were trembling as her breathing began to speed up.

"Are you hurt? Are you injured?" Morgan repeated, hand cupping her cheek and pulling her gaze away from the body.

"There's blood on me," Y/N mumbled shakily, tears rolling down her cheeks.

"You need to breathe, Y/N. C'mon, baby, you're fine, it's just blood," Morgan said, attempting to comfort her.

"Here, I've got her," Spencer said, tucking his gun away and moving over to them.

"Spencer," Y/N mumbled.

"You're okay, you're safe," He assured, one hand holding onto her wrist while his other settled on her waist.

"It's on me," Y/N said, staring down at the speckles of blood on her skin.

Spencer nodded, "We'll clean it off, okay? I'll help you, but first I need you to slow your breathing down," He said, Y/N nodded stiffly.

She was hyperventilating, breath coming out in panicked puffs as she looked around wildly. Spencer took off his vest quickly, taking her hand and settling it on his chest.

"Focus on me, alright? I need you to copy my breathing," He said, holding her hand against his chest over his heart.

"I can't," She hiccuped, shaking her head.

"You have to. Just close your eyes and stay with me," Spencer instructed.

Y/N sobbed, "Just close your eyes and focus on me," Spencer repeated, his other hand settling on her waist again and pulling her closer to himself.

Y/N squeezed her eyes shut, "Copy my breathing, okay? Nice and slow," He said.

Spencer took a deep breath in before releasing it as a slow exhale. Y/N struggled for a moment before slowly settling into his calm breathing pattern after a few breaths.

Her eyes fluttered open, glossy eyes meeting with his, "Let's get you cleaned up," He said, she nodded.

"She okay?" Morgan asked.

Spencer nodded, "I need to take her home so she can get cleaned up," He said.

"I'll let Hotch know," Morgan nodded.

"Thanks, Morgan," Spencer replied, he shrugged off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders. Spencer wrapped his arm around her and led her over to the SUV, he settled her in the passenger seat before he drove her home.

Spencer walked her up to her apartment, sittin on the couch while she got herself cleaned up. Y/N scrubbed at her skin roughly under the scalding hot water, desperately trying to remove all traces of the blood.

Y/N felt like she couldn't get clean, sobbing as she continued to scrub her skin raw. It took almost an hour before she had finally calmed down enough to shut off the water and step out of the shower. She dried herself off and got dressed, but her entire body still felt dirty.

Spencer stood from his seat on the couch as the bathroom door opened, "You didn't have to stay," Y/N mumbled with a soft sniffle.

"I wanted to make sure you were okay," Spencer said.

Y/N nodded, eyes glossing over with tears again, "I can still feel his blood on my skin," She admitted shakily.

The skin of her arms, neck and chest were red and irritated from where she scrubbed the skin raw.

Spencer made his way over to her, "Can I touch you?" He asked, she nodded.

His fingers wrapped around her wrist gently, lifting her arm up to inspect her reddened skin. Spencer brushed his thumb over her pulse, "How can I help?" He questioned.

"I don't know," She replied.

"Can I give you a hug?" Spencer asked.

Her lip trembled and she nodded, Spencer let go of her arm and stepped closer to her. He wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her body against his chest gently. 

The smell of his cologne and the soft beating of his heart was calming. Y/N felt something break within her as she sobbed, tears rolling down her cheeks and soaking into Spencer's shirt as she slid her arms around him.

Y/N pressed herself closer to his chest, crying until her lungs ached and her eyes burned. She gripped onto the material of Spencer's shirt, he rubbed her back gently while murmuring words of encouragement into her hair.

It felt like an eternity before her sobs changed to shaky breaths, her tears drying on her cheeks.

"I'm sorry," Y/N mumbled against his chest.

"You don't have anything to be sorry for," Spencer assured.

Y/N reluctantly pulled away, he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear gently.

"Thank you," Y/N mumbled, wiping the tears from her cheeks.

"Is there anything else I can do?" Spencer asked.

She shook her head, "You've done more than enough already, Spencer," Y/N stated.

"I can stay if you don't want to be alone," He offered.

"You'd do that?" Y/N asked.

"Of course, I'd do anything for you," He answered easily.

[reidswhre]

could you write something about this? rossi having a teenage daughter who is just as smart as spencer, and them meeting each other and discovering the similarity, is something different but i think it could be fun to read! 🫶🏻

spencer reid x fem!rossi!reader

warnings: nothing, pure fluff

a/n: this is so cute omg thx for sending it! btw i didn’t realize it said “teenage” until now i’m so sorry 😭☹️ i hope that doesn’t bother you too much, she’s spencer’s age!

Rossi had invited everyone to dinner at his house. It was something “simple.” In quotes because, come on, for Rossi nothing was simple.

“Come in, if you break something, I’ll tell Hotch to cut half of your salary.” He gave a fake smile as he let them in.

“Aww, you’re so kind.” Emily returned the fake smile, which made everyone laugh.

“Take a seat, how about some wine?” Rossi offered, and everyone graciously accepted.

Except Spencer. “No, thanks— I don’t drink alcohol.”

“Of course you don’t, kid.” Rossi rolled his eyes. “What would you like? Orange juice? Fruit puree?” Rossi teased him.

“I’m fine, thanks.” Spencer smiled a little.

“Dad, do you know where the library is—” You came down the stairs quickly before noticing the team in the living room. “Oh— Hello.” You lowered your voice, a bit shy.

“Hey you, I forgot to mention it.”

“You definitely did.” You said, shrinking into your spot.

“Look, this is my work team.” He pointed to each person as they greeted you. “And this is my daughter.” He introduced you by name to the team.

“Nice to meet you.” You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “I’m going to… head upstairs. Excuse me.”

“Are you kidding? Stay.” Your dad encouraged you.

“I don’t want to intrude.”

“Don’t say that, sweetie. You’d never be a bother.” Garcia spoke up.

“And if it does bother them, they can leave, it’s my house.” Rossi joked, and everyone laughed a bit.

“It’s fine, really,” Hotch said.

“Okay, thank you.” You finished coming down the stairs, a bit nervous.

Now, you weren’t thaaaat shy (just a little), but come on, it was your dad’s entire work team. How could you not be?

“I didn’t know you lived with your daughter.” Morgan smiled, taking a sip of his wine.

“I don’t, she’s visiting.” Rossi gave you a look to encourage some small talk.

“I live in England, I’m in university.”

“Oh, where?” Spencer asked, intrigued.

“Oxford.” You smiled shyly.

Morgan whistled. “That’s fancy.”

“It’s not as grand as it sounds.” You shook your head.

“Oxford, along with Cambridge, is the elite of education in England. One of the two always appears in the top rankings of the country, as well as the list of the ten best universities in the world.” Spencer looked at you. “I think it is as grand as it sounds.”

You narrowed your eyes a bit at his response.

Spencer, the genius of the BAU, you knew a little about him.

Your dad used to talk about him and said you two would probably get along, but he said that about everyone, so you didn’t pay it much attention.

“Cambridge is better than Oxford.���

“Depends on the field.” He replied.

“No, it doesn’t. In general statistics, it’s better.”

“You can’t rely on general statistics.”

“Said the profiler.”

Everyone chuckled at your little exchange, which made you smile a bit.

From then on, everyone started their own conversations, and you noticed Spencer sitting there, staring at his glass of water.

“Anyway, I chose Oxford for a reason, so you’re not completely wrong.” You sat next to him.

“You got into Cambridge?” He raised his eyebrows.

“Mhm.” You nodded. “Want me to be honest?”

“Of course.” He looked at you intently.

“Maybe the fact that Oxford looks like Hogwarts influenced my decision a bit.”

Spencer laughed. “That’s fair.”

“And you? Where did you go? I’ve heard you have several PhDs.”

“I went to the MIT.” He smiled nervously.

“That sounds amazing.”

“Not as amazing as yours.” He looked at you.

“Sure, yours wasn’t run by Dumbledore.” You joked.

“You really like it, huh?”

“Are you kidding? I love it! It’s my favorite series.” You got excited talking about Harry Potter.

“I’m more of a Star Wars fan.” You grimaced at that. “What’s wrong? You don’t like it?” He raised his eyebrows.

“I’ve never seen them,” you admitted.

Spencer’s eyes widened. “No way!”

“Seriously! They just don’t appeal to me, sorry.” You apologized through laughter.

“Well, what else do you like then?”

“Hmm.” You looked at the ceiling, thinking. “I like magic.”

“Really? I love magic.” Spencer smiled.

“Yeah? What can you do?” You playfully challenged him with a smile.

“Uhhh.” He looked around, searching for something to show you.

“Nothing?” You smiled.

“I guess not…” He shrugged. “Unless…” He made a small gesture for you to check behind your ear.

You gave him a confused look and reached behind your ear like he did. You pulled out a little piece of paper.

You gasped in surprise. “How did you do that?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“Come on! That’s amazing!”

“Nope, sorry.”

“Aww.” You pouted.

“Thank you all so much.” You heard someone behind you saying goodbye.

“Oh—I think I have to go.” Spencer stood up from his seat.

“Yes, of course—” You stood up as well to say goodbye to the others.

A little later, after everyone had left, you were helping your dad clean the kitchen while he was tidying up the living room.

“What’s this?” He asked, showing you the little piece of paper you had pulled from behind your ear earlier.

“Oh, I don’t know, it’s just a magic trick. You can throw it away.” You laughed while washing the glasses.

“Are you sure?” He said, walking over to you. “It has a number.”

“What!?” You dropped the glasses in the sink and quickly dried your hands. “Let me see!” You rushed over to your dad and snatched the paper from him.

“That kid was trying to hit on you?” He rolled his eyes while looking at you.

“Oh my God, yes!” You smiled, excited.

Then you remembered your dad worked with him, and your smile dropped.

“I mean— maybe, probably not— it doesn’t matter.” You shrugged and casually slipped the paper into the back pocket of your pants.

“Sure, it doesn’t.” He narrowed his eyes and started heading up the stairs. “Remind him you live 7,588 kilometers away!” He shouted from afar.

You smiled a little and gave a small jump of excitement in the quiet of your living room.

[zvdvdlvr]

Eyes of a Stranger + Aaron Hotchner

synopsis //The man who you loved had been the one to withhold information to hurt you the most

warnings // Emily’s death. Betrayal. Allusions to sex. Possible vulgar language.

author’s notes //Are we wanting a part two? I’m lowkey wanting a part two. Could do with some more angst if I do say so myself.

When Emily died, you were… shellshocked. To say the least, your heart was shattered.

     You had just made it to Derek’s side when the paramedics started rushing Prentiss onto a stretcher. His hands were stained crimson and his eyebrows were knitted impossibly tight. His eyes darted to you and you could see it in his eyes. Pure fear.

     Aaron reached your side. His hand shook as he wrapped an arm around your waist. His warm eyes had the same terror inthem that everyone else’s had. Aaron’s ghostly faint touch faded as he ordered everyone to the hospital. You let Aaron lace your fingers together as he pulled you to the SUV.

     “Y/n.” Your eyes found Aaron’s as he started the car. “Are you okay?”

     You said yes without even giving yourself a once-over. The pain in your chest was just from your anxiety. Probably. “I’m fine, Hotch. We need to go.”

     Your fiancé nodded. He didn’t comment on the harshness of your voice. Instead, he put the car in gear and beelined to the hospital.

     Just as you had started to pick harshly at your cuticles, Aaron’s large hand clasped yours wordlessly. You let out a ragged sigh and watched cars as Aaron drove.

     It was as much of a blur at the hospital as it was when you heard “Prentiss is down” over your headpiece. Penelope had swarmed you with a stifling hug when you pushed open the doors to the hospital. You didn’t even think to ask how she had gotten there before you. In fact, you hadn’t said anything.

     Aaron kept a hold of your hand. Rossi flagged the two of you down and immediately pulled you in for a hug. You found yourself falling apart with each embrace.

     Derek hadn’t looked up. His heel tapped anxiously on the waxy white floor. His hands were now blood-free and pressing harshly to his face.

    Aaron sat beside you in a torturous hospital chair, grasping your hand as tightly as before. He rested his head against the wall and you copied his actions.

     You didn’t know how long you sat there: silently replaying the sight over and over again. The gunshot, the ‘agent down’, the sprinting, the disbelief. Over and over again. Over. And over. And over. Again and again. And you couldn’t do anything. Again and-

     “I need water,” Aaron all but croaked. Those beautiful brown eyes that had taken your breath away peered into your face as he gauged your face for any tell that you didn’t hear him. “I love you, y/n,” he whispered into your ear after pressing a chaste kiss to your temple.

     You shuddered out a sigh and fell back into silence. Thoughts of Emily filled your mind again. This time, happier ones. Like the time you, JJ, Emily, and Penelope went to the bar and encountered a man that claimed to be in the FBI. A feeble smile pulled at the corner of your lip at the sight of a red-faced Brad as you all whipped out your badges. And then the time you surprised Emily, JJ, and Penelope with your engagement. JJ’s mouth had dropped open comically wide, Penny started screaming so loudly that you worried your neighbors would call the cops, and Emily had jumped out of her seat and started doing laps in your living room before practically pulling your hand from your body to see the rock on your finger.

     You had no doubt that Emily would pull through. She had worked so hard with the girls to plan the wedding that you’d be pissed if she missed it. But you knew she wouldn’t miss it. You knew she’d make it.

    Aaron appeared again and handed you your own water bottle and a protein bar. You cracked open the water bottle and took a sip. You pocketed the food for later. While twisting the lid closed, you watched JJ step forward.

     “How is she?” Spencer asks first. You hear the tremble in his voice.

     You see it on JJ’s face before she says anything. And for a moment, you don’t want her to say anything. But of course she answers. “She… The doctors say she didn’t even make it off the table.”

     JJ keeps talking. Words keep spilling out of her mouth. Her hands keep moving and her eyes move from Derek’s to Penelope’s to Rossi’s to Spencer’s to yours and then to Aaron’s. But you hear nothing.

     Your mouth parts but nothing comes out. All the words are gone. Your mind blanks. The world seems to darken as you falter. You sink into your chair and feel tears prick in your eyes. There’s no way. No way that the girl you used to go get coffee with on the weekends was dead. The girl that asked you to pick out a cat with her. The girl that you had movie nights with every month (including Jack) because she was your family. And now… that girl is gone.

     You buried her in March. It was a beautiful service. You held most of your tears, though, because Jack wanted you to hold him for the entire thing. Aaron’s presence never left you and you were lucky he was there for everything. You knew he was grieving in his own way, and you realized that he was doing it by busying himself with taking care of you and Jack.

     It was one month later when you were at your lowest. You weren’t mean, you didn’t lash out, and you were just numb to everything. You focused on three things: Jack, Aaron, and work. You knew that if you took too much time to think about everything that had been taken from you, you may not be able to function.

     Two months later and Aaron was a godsend. He hadn’t questioned you about your methods at work (although you could feel his concern radiating off of him) or at home. Aaron had involved you in everything he could, even offering to wake up a little later in the morning so you could sleep in a little bit and go for a run with him (Jack was at Jessica’s for the week). You didn’t go running, but you did get your cardio done.

     Five months after the funeral, you started to feel like yourself again. Cases had been pretty smooth sailing, not taking more than a week to catch murdering bastards. Strauss had miraculously given you a Thursday and Friday off so you and Aaron spent two days at home with Jack watching movies, going to the park, and making blanket forts. The other two days were spent doing adult activities while Jack had a sleepover with some his school friends.

     Six months later and you feel good. The gap in your heart hasn’t healed, but you’re starting to live with the fact that your not quite blood sister is dead. Aaron had planned a date night for you near the end of the month consisting of your favorite Italian, a movie, and a late night drive with you on the AUX.  Aaron had kept a hand on you the whole night: holding your hand in the car, keeping a hand in the small of your back as he led you to the restaurant, a hand on your thigh through the movie, and holding your hand during the entire drive. It was the moments like this that made you treasure your love the most.

     It was the seventh month after Emily’s funeral did your entire world halt on it’s axis.

     “We’re going into work early, babe,” Aaron says after gently waking you up. “We have a lead on Doyle.”

     You were sat at the round table talking with Spencer about random bits of information- you were keen on listening to what he had to say, despite his tendency to ramble. He was just telling you statistics about the moon that started with you saying ‘Did you know Australia is wider than the moon?’ when your fiancé walked in with a grim expression.

     Conversation halted. Rossi straightened at his seat, and Penelope’s happy expression sobered. “What’s going on?” Derek asked skeptically, eyes narrowed.

     Hotch’s eyes flitted over everyone in the room before starting. “Seven months ago, I made a decision that affected the team.” He paised before continuing, “As you all know, Emily lost a lot of blood after her fight with Doyle… But the Doctors were able to stabilize her. She was airlifted from Boston to Bethesda.”

     Your heart dropped. The room was so quiet, you could hear your heart pounding in your ears. The oxygen was completely sucked out of the room as the gravity of Aaron’s statement finally sank in.

     His lips were stretched thing over his face as his eyes finally fell on you. Instead of seeing love in his eyes, you saw a stranger. 

     He had lied- kept you in the dark for seven months. Aaron held you in his arms as you wept for your best friend. He had carried you back to your bed when you wandered out to the couch to fall asleep where Emily used to crash when you had sleepovers. Aaron had known she was alive and watched you mourn. Your fiancé had watched you mourn when he knew she was alive.

     The betrayal you felt had rubbed salt in the wound you had been healing from. But you tore your eyes away from Aar- Hotch’s to see that everyone’s attention was at the door. You looked and your heart dropped impossibly further in your chest when you saw… Emily.

[mggslover]

A Holiday to Remember ❆

a christmas special by mggslover!

for everyone who is still pissed that criminal minds never got a christmas episode: this one is for you!

The BAU takes a rare holiday break, but what was meant to be a peaceful weekend of hot chocolate and Secret Santa exchanges turns dark when a family is found murdered beneath their Christmas tree.

Reader struggles to stay focused on the case, as it brings up memories of her past. And as if that weren’t enough, her unspoken crush on Spencer Reid is becoming harder to ignore.

part 1: the holiday getaway (unlocked on dec 24) part 2: how the unsub stole christmas (unlocked on dec 25)

divider by @issysh3ll

[freelancelobotomy]

gravity [s.r.]

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader

wc: 2.8k

summary: Whilst on a special undercover assignment from the leader of the vigilante organization that you're apart of to kidnap a thief, you get distracted by an old "friend" from the FBI Training Academy.

content warnings: fluff, angst, guns, mentions of sex, reader is mean but its okay bc Spencer was meaner, death, almost kiss

a/n: hiii !! I wrote this for imaginin-in-the-margin's "Undercover Challenge." this is my first fic so pls be nice if its not the best lmfaofao.

When you spot Spencer across the bar, you freeze. The persona you put on for your job—the persona you’ve adopted to compartmentalize—ceases to exist when his eyes lock onto you and widen with recognition.

Ironically, that look of recognition is something you recognize. He’s had that same brightness in his eyes since the day you met him at the academy. It’s glassy and almost iridescent, just like the giant gaudy Chandelier hanging above the dance floor in front of the stage. He had that same look when he noticed the copy of The Valley of Fear by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle on your nightstand the first time you played poker together in your dormitory, when you told him about how struggled with making friends in high school just like he did, and when Jason Gideon first walked into the training facility and handpicked him for the BAU—your dream job—instead of you.

You overheard your sergeant talking about getting some heat from the FBI, but you never thought to ask her about it later—doing so would feel like admitting to yourself that you’re not over the whole thing after three years. Not over him after three years.

Immediately, you think you’re being set up by the committee. The BAU has them cornered, and they sent you on this mission, painting you as the lone perpetrator. The team sent Spencer in to throw you off by using emotional manipulation. Then Spencer smiles at you and gets up from his seat at the bar. He’s genuinely surprised to see you.

“Y/N!” he says, his tone lilting and disarming. It must be a coincidence. He immediately just blew your cover. Wonderful.

“Spencer. Hi.” You wave at him, knowing his disdain for handshaking or overall contact with strangers, but then he wraps you in his arms. For a bit too long. He takes a deep breath and—is he… smelling you?

You exhale shakily, patting him on the back before he pulls away.

“You look…beautiful.” He says.

“Yea? Thanks,” You say curtly. He’s not wrong. You’re wearing a tight low cut back out dress that nicely accentuates your figure. You have to look good during every mission. It’s part of the job.

“It’s been too long,” he says, his eyes searching your face. “How have you been?”

You hesitate to meet his gaze, swallowing hard. “I’ve been good. How are you doing?” you manage to say, forcing a polite smile.

He stares at you for a beat before answering. “I’ve missed you.”

You roll your eyes and turn toward the door. Fuck this mission. You need to get out of here. You were planning on bailing anyway. Shoot a bullet into the air and say the guy was crazy and had a gun so you fled the scene. Sergeant can give this lame ass assignment to some rookie. The guy didn’t even really do anything.

“Y/N?” He gently grabs your arm, pulling you back toward him. “Look, I’m sorry. I was just being honest. I’ll lie if you want me to.”

“What do you want from me?” you ask, turning back to him.

“I want you to be honest with me.”

“And why would I do that?”

“Because I’m sorry,” he says. “I’ve thought about making things right with you ever since I threw away my life the day I accepted that position at the BAU.”

“You’re such an asshole.”

“I was. I wasn’t ready for you. I’m sorry.”

This is absolutely not the night you expected.

You open your mouth to speak, but he beats you to it.

“I was dense, and self-preserving, and ignorant—I… I didn’t know a good thing when I had it. The only good thing to ever happen to me—I—the universe was foolish enough to give me you, and I lost it. I lost you, and I’m sorry.”

Spencer and you had become best friends during your time at the Quantico FBI Academy when you were both twenty–two. You two had hit it off immediately, both being from Las Vegas, geeky introverts, and overly ambitious. Once you got romantically involved two weeks before the program ended and you were sent back to your home state, Spencer, whose previous goal was to stay in Virginia, promised to move back to Las Vegas so he could live close to you and his mom. Then…Jason Gideon approached him with the offer to become a Supervisory Special Agent at the BAU in Quantico. He told Jason that he would think about it, you slept with him for the first time that night—the first time that you’d ever slept with anybody–because you thought it would make him choose you. It didn’t.

“Are you drunk?” you laugh.

“No.” He takes a step closer to you and lets go of your hand. “You don’t have to take me back, but please—Y/N. I miss you so much.”

What does he want from you then? Friendship? Neither of you have the heart for that. He has to be lying. “Give me some time to think about it.” You grin.

“As much as you need. Here—my phone number—” He pulls out a notepad and pen from his pants pocket.

“That won’t be necessary. I'll know by the end of this conversation.” You lightly shove them back toward him before taking a seat at the bar again and patting the stool next to you. He rushes over and sits down.

“Eager beaver, are you?” you ask, your tone amused.

“I see you haven’t changed much.”

“That’s not a no.”

“‘Not a no’ to what?”

“That’s not a no to my question. Are you an eager beaver?” You’re just messing with the poor guy at this point—seeing how far you can push him.

“I’m enthusiastic since I’m thrilled to see you again after three years. I wouldn’t say I’m an ‘eager beaver.’”

“I’ve texted you a few times over the years,” he adds. “Did you block my number? I tried to get into contact with you last year because i wanted to see how you were doing and the team was in vegas for—”

“A case?” You shake your head playfully. “It’s been five minutes, and you’ve already mentioned the BAU three times. Way to rub it in, Agent Reid.”

“I’m sorry,” he says.

“I’m kidding. No, I’m not. Are you still sabotaging yourself?”

“I’m trying not to currently,” he says.

You hum in response.

“I don’t know why Jason chose me over you.”

“I mean, you chose Jason over me. I think I know why—other than your IQ. I thought you guys kind of had some daddy-son issues you solved with each other symbiotically.”

“He left the BAU. Cut contact with everyone, including me. Left only a note, addressed to me.”

“Ouch. Just like your dad?”

He laughs humorlessly. “Took the words right out of my mouth.”

You reach out and touch his face, running the digits of your fingers against the grain of his stubble. He leans into your touch, closing his eyes momentarily.

“You don’t shave anymore?”

“It’s been a rough couple of weeks. This case I’m working on…”

“Is that why you’re back in Vegas? You’re surely not here to visit your mother, are you?”

A little mean of you, but whatever.

“Uh, no. I’m not.”

“You haven’t been seeing anyone recently. And you’re in the process of getting sober from… something. Not weed—I would’ve smelled it on you. Opioids?” You pretend to be deep in thought. “Maybe coke. I can picture that for you. You, lining up snow with your Mensa card and snorting it with the rolled-up note from Gideon, thinking it makes you distinguished.”

“You were always a better profiler than me.”

“Tell that to Jason. Oh… wait.” You feign an apologetic tone, reaching out to place your hand atop his. He shakes his head, fighting a smile.

“Okay, that was a little mean. I’m sorry.” You pause, pulling your hand back. He just smiles at you, with that shimmer of recognition in his eye.

“What I said the day that I left…” He pauses, clearing his throat. “That if it had been you he picked for the BAU, you would’ve done the same thing—" He shakes his head. "It wasn't true. It was a cruel thing for me to say. To you of all people. You wouldn’t have, and I knew that. You were so kind, and funny, and pretty, and so fucking smart, and you liked my weird hair, and I could make you smile—” He looks at you and realizes he’s rambling. He takes a deep breath and leans toward you, putting his hand atop yours. You don’t pull away.

“I thought running away from you meant running away from you hurting me. I felt like there was no way whatever we had could end without me being utterly destroyed, so I left like a coward.”

“You swear now? Since when?” you ask.

He reaches into his pocket and takes out a small cylindrical bottle of aspirin.

“Do you know what this is?” he asks.

“A phallic symbol?” you quip.

“No,” he chuckles. “The bottle of aspirin you gave me the first day at the academy. I take it with me everywhere. When I first held a gun, it was so heavy it threw me off balance. Sent me hurling towards the floor. A couple of hours later, in the cafeteria, you saw me shielding my eyes from the fluorescent lights. I had a migraine from hitting my head and you handed me the bottle before sitting across from me.”

“And we ate in complete silence,” you laugh.

“But It wasn’t silence. To me, it was gravity.”

“Gravity?” you ask, raising a brow.

“The same gravity that pulled me toward the ground pulled me toward you. And it’s been pulling me toward you ever since—at a torturous, exponential rate.”

You lean towards him and whisper to him, “You are so corny.”

“How I felt back then hasn't changed. I don't think it ever will," He says.

You shake your head, laughing.

A piano chord plays, and both of your heads snap in that direction.

“Hello, goodnight, and good evening, everybody! I’m Al Zimmerman.” The eccentric jazz singer’s voice crackles through the air of the bar. “Tonight, I have my brother from way back here performing with us. But I’d like you to welcome Raymond Rolton on the horn, Samuel Quincy on the drums, Jerry Parcher on the bass, Craig Wilde on the sax, and a special guest—close friend of mine—on the piano.”

The pianist plays a quick trill, earning cheers from the crowd.

“The spectacular Ethan Jones, all the way from the jazz capital of the world—New Orleans, everybody!” The crowd erupts into applause.

“Ethan,” he says, almost to himself. “That’s why I’m here. My friend Ethan invited me to see him play since he knew I was in town, and we wrapped the case early. The team is still here, handling paperwork. Hotch said it was okay for me to—”

“Ethan?” You interrupt, your eyebrows shooting up. “As in Ethan Jones?”

That’s your target’s name.

“Yeah. I went to CalTech with him. We were… close. He dropped out of the academy on the first day. I had no idea you guys knew each other.”

You stand up slowly. “We don’t.”

Great. You are connected in some way. Now you definitely can’t seduce him into capture without the police making a connection. This is going to get you some heat from the Committee.

The Committee always has a reason for taking someone out. The process is simple: you take the target to a private location, torture them for information on what they’ve done (more often than not—rape, murder, or both), harvest their organs to sell to the highest bidder on the dark web, then dump what’s left of their body at a precinct with a note attached, detailing their crimes—including where the victims are buried and who else they’ve abused.

According to Saesha, the Committee’s Sergeant, Ethan had borrowed a lot of money from her way back when, and it’s about time he paid up. But she’s had trouble tracking him down herself. Your job within the Committee is simple: you’re the bait. Luring the sick puppies into a van, truck, or whatever vehicle Saesha assigns, then transporting them to the secondary location. Saesha even calls you Legs. Says they’re your best asset.

It gets you respect from the Committee. And a lot of cash.

She said they’re not going to kill him. Just— in her words—“put the fear of God into him to get her cheddar back.”

You need to get a closer look at this guy.

You hold out your hand to Spencer.

“You wanna dance?”

He looks over his shoulder. “Me?”

“No, the bartender.” You roll your eyes sarcastically. Jesus, he really is dense. “Yes, you, Spencer.”

“I don’t know how,” he admits, grinning sheepishly.

“It’s easy, c’mon.”

Spencer takes your hand, and you lead him to the dance floor, where the other couples sway to the melody of My Funny Valentine. The singer is really good.

His right arm wraps around your waist, and he holds your hand with his left. The two of you move together, slow and deliberate. His heartbeat is racing against your chest.

“I was not expecting this night to go like this. At all,” he murmurs, his warm breath tickling your ear. He pulls you closer.

“I thought the exact same thing as soon as I saw you.”

You glance at the stage. That’s definitely the guy.

“You’re wearing the perfume I got you for your birthday the week before I left,” he says suddenly. “Empressa, from Penhaligon’s.”

“It’s not the same one,” you reply, your eyes narrowing at Ethan. How did you get yourself into this mess? “I re-bought it.”

He nods.

“Do you still talk to Francesca?” he asks. She was your roommate back at the Academy.

“You mean Frannie?” Your head turns toward him. Your faces are about an inch apart now.

He hums in response, his gaze briefly flickering to your lips before meeting your eyes again.

“Yeah. We, um… we got brunch last weekend, actually,” you rasp. The heightened tension between you two makes your stomach flip. “I like what you did with your hair. It suits you.”

“Thanks. I got tired of buying hair gel,” he chuckles.

“That’s a shame.”

“I can get… untired of buying hair gel if you want me to.”

“That’s quite all right,” you giggle. “I like the man bob.”

“Man bob?” He laughs.

You nod.

“Oh—here.” You let go of Spencer’s hand and push a stray strand of hair from his face.

He smiles at you, that smile—the one that was always reserved just for you.

Both of his arms find your waist. His large hands settle against your lower back.

You missed him. So much.

“What?” he asks, his eyes searching your face. He’s trying to figure you out. He’s profiling you right now.

“Nothing. I just…” You exhale, mustering up the courage to look at him. “I missed you too.”

“Yeah?” His gaze drops to your lips.

You really can’t tell if this is a good idea. You were always better at reading other people than understanding yourself. But your eyes flutter closed as you lean in for a kiss—

BANG.

The unmistakable sound of a gunshot.

Screams. People running.

Spencer grabs your arm, ready to bolt, but his eyes widen when he sees Ethan bleeding out on the stage.

He rushes toward him.

Your head snaps around the room, searching for the shooter.

Your peripheral vision catches Saesha, gun still trained—right at stupid fucking Spencer, who’s kneeling beside his friend, packing the bullet wound with a hankerchief.

Your hand flies to your thigh holster.

Ethan didn’t do anything.

This is personal.

She’s blowing the whole operation.

You could flee. Get the hell out of here. Live with the guilt that you ran off like a coward as your Sergeant swiss cheesed Spencer.

Or—you could stop this.

The bar is nearly empty now. Just you, Spencer, Ethan… and her.

No choice.

Shit.

You cock your gun. “Sergeant.”

She turns around, a grin creeping onto her face. “Legs. You going soft on me?”

“Drop the gun. I’ll shoot you.”

“Look, I’m sorry that I interrupted your heavy petting with Hillary Swank over there,” Saesha says, motioning toward Spencer, her gun still raised, “but I need to take care of this. Of us.”

“You blew our cover. What did he do that was so bad that you’re sacrificing our freedom for? Hm? We had an agreement. No innocents get hurt—"

“And that agreement still stands," Saesha interrupts. "But in order to keep money in all of our pockets, we have to fix the past to secure our present. I trusted you for this job, Y/N. He took two hundred thousand dollars. From the Committee. From us.”

“I don’t understand,” you say.

She smirks. “Do you really think you’re the only failed FBI cadet we poached, Legs?”

Your stomach drops.

“He was your partner?”

“Something like that.”

“Saesha…” Ethan coughs weakly.

Spencer shushes him, telling him not to waste his breath.

“He probably spent it all already,” you say. “Why are you trying to kill him?”

“It’s personal.”

Saesha turns back toward you—

And in that split second, Spencer reaches for his pant leg, pulls a gun, and fires—

BANG.

The chain holding the massive chandelier snaps.

It comes crashing down, crushing Saesha beneath it.

A deafening silence follows.

Then—

BANG.

Somewhere in the bar, a door is kicked open.

“Reid!” A booming voice calls.

Spencer turns to you.

“Go.” he whispers.

You don’t hesitate.

Without another word, you run—out the back door, gun in hand.

The gravity of it all crashing down on you.

[emilysholster]

Distance (David Rossi x Ex!Reader)

Summary: you have some realizations when your ex comes to town

Tags: NSFW, exes to lovers, lots of emotions, hints of jealousy, reader is down bad for rossi, confession of feelings, clitoral stimulation/fingering, oral sex (rossi’s a munch), [unprotected] PinV sex, assumed birth control, dirty talk, multiple orgasms, (fem!reader)

Translations: dolcezza (honey), gattina (kitten)

A/N: so long but also sweet and sexy. Not sure where this came from but hope you enjoy it !

“Y/N, just finished a case in town. Up for a drink and a chat? -DR”

You read the message over again, heart racing. The sign off, while characteristic, wasn’t necessary since you hadn’t deleted his contact. There was always that small part of you that hoped (prayed, manifested, dreamed) that you would get a text like the one that was currently lighting up your phone.

How long had it been now? Nearly two years, you figured. Your relationship with the renowned FBI agent was a memorable one - full of passion that at times felt all-consuming. But then came your promotion, the realization that long-distance wasn’t feasible (not with your already packed schedules), and a painful but necessary goodbye.

And yet, here you were now, miles away from where you first met but with that same thrumming feeling in your chest that only he brought about. You’d almost been expecting the text - he was no doubt in town for the high profile murder case that had been all over the news. When you had first seen the reports about the Black Jack Killer, you’d (sadistically) hoped it meant that he would be paying your part of the country a visit.

You picked up your phone, staring at the expecting message. Drink and a chat wouldn’t hurt, right? Sure, you’d been trying to move on and sure, it was quite possible that this would set you back. But there was no denying the eagerness you were feeling at the idea of seeing him after so long, hearing his voice and laughter.

Gnawing at your lip, you quickly typed out and sent a response. “That would be nice. There’s a bar on 5th, Fox & Trot. See you at 8?”

Before you could regret your decision and consider blocking him altogether, your phone vibrated with an immediate reply. “Looking forward to it.”

•••

You tightened your coat around you as you made your way to the bar. Despite your nerves, the November air was still cold enough to make you shiver. You had spent the time since his text trying on outfits and doing your hair and makeup, but now you found yourself regretting the short dress you’d decided on.

Lost in your thoughts, you hadn’t even realized you’d made it to the bar. As you pulled out your phone to let him know you’d arrived, you heard the door to the bar open behind you and someone step outside.

“Y/N,” the voice was familiar, making the knot in your stomach tighten. You turned and were greeted by none other than David Rossi, looking at you expectantly with a grin.

You couldn’t help the smile that broke out on your face upon seeing him. “Dave,” you greeted, trying to mask the excitement you were feeling. You could see that the two years had treated him well; his goatee and hair had gained some grey flecks, giving him a salt-and-pepper look.

The agent pulled you in for a hug and you let yourself be enveloped in his arms and surrounded by the familiarity of his cologne. His face was pressed into your hair and you could feel him inhale as he took in your scent. David pulled away after a moment but held onto you to take in your appearance. You felt your cheeks warm under his gaze. “What?”

“Nothing. I just,” he paused, eyes roaming over you. “You look as beautiful as ever. This place has treated you well.”

You prayed he couldn’t tell that your face was on fire, or that the butterflies in your stomach were migrating downwards. “You’re not so bad yourself,” you grinned, eliciting a chuckle from him.

David gestured towards the bar, which was filled with people. “I’d suggest we get out of the cold but it seems like there isn’t room for us in there.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it. I know the owner, Kevin. There’s a booth saved for us.”

“Well then,” he said, pulling the door open. “After you.”

•••

Inside, you were lead to your booth as promised. The bar was one of your favourite places in the city. It was intimate and classy, and on nights like this it would have local jazz performers playing, creating an inviting atmosphere. You and David settled in, making small talk about your lives as your drink orders arrived.

“So, Kevin, huh? Must be a good friend if he’s saving you seats at his joint.” David’s tone may have been nonchalant but the look in his eyes was anything but.

You took a sip of your drink before answering, amused by his forwardness. “Yes, Kevin and his husband are good friends of mine. They were the first people I got to know well here.”

“Ah,” David gave you a sheepish grin, making you giggle. “Well, do you blame me for wanting to know who you’ve moved on to?”

Your cheeks warmed again, but this time from mild embarrassment. What were you supposed to say? Well, actually Dave, I’m still hung up on you and haven’t really been able to connect with anyone since we broke up.

You opted for deflection instead. “Please,” you said, rolling your eyes playfully. “If anyone is going to move on to someone new, it would be you.”

“Hey!” David exclaimed, feigning offence. “Are we forgetting who gave whom their number?”

You couldn’t help but laugh at this. It was true, you were the one to slip him your number when you first met him as he was investigating a case. “Touché. But I’m sure I’m not the only one.”

“You’re the only one that mattered, dolcezza.” David said softly. His eyes held your gaze, trying to gauge your reaction. You could feel warmth spreading under your skin at his words, the small glimmer of hope you were afraid to entertain.

Suddenly, the waiter came by with another round of drinks and you couldn’t be more grateful. You cleared your throat and took a generous sip of your drink, before shifting the conversation to your professional lives. “How’s your team doing? Morgan, Emily. All of them.”

The change of subject was clear to David, and he tried to mask his disappointment. The two of you began talking about work - David about the team and their recent successes, and you about all you’ve accomplished since your promotion.

You didn’t even realize how much time had flown by until you glanced down at your phone hours later. Conversation with David was always easy and never-ending, and this night was no exception. Ever the gentleman, he covered the bill and promptly decided he would be walking you home.

•••

Outside, the two of you began the short walk to your place. It had gotten colder and David offered his arm to you, which you accepted gratefully. Arm in arm, you could almost pretend that nothing had changed in the last two years, that this was just another night.

David was the first to break the silence. “So, is it fair for me to assume there’s no special someone waiting up for you tonight?”

“You’re the profiler, aren’t you?” You teased. “You tell me.”

“Well,” David started. The two of you had come to a stop, standing at the foot of the stairs to your front door. He was standing in front of you now, so close that you could see the fine lines decorating his face, evidence of time and the nature of his job. “I would say that no, there isn’t someone waiting up. And I would go as far as to say that, like me, that hasn’t been the case since we split up.”

“Y/N,” he continued, an earnest look in his eyes. “I regret it. I regret breaking up, I regret letting you leave like that. I’ve missed you ever since.”

Your chest felt tight from your proximity and from David’s words. He was verbalizing exactly how you felt, and yet you were still unsure.

“Dave…” you began, but he cut you off. “Don’t try to tell me you don’t feel the same, Y/N. If you want me to leave, I’ll leave. But don’t lie to me.” You felt your heart squeeze at the raw emotion plain on his face.

You sighed softly as David’s hand came up to brush your hair away from your face before settling against your cheek. You found yourself leaning into his touch, his palm cradling your cheek. “I don’t want you to leave,” you admitted, almost in defeat. “I’ve missed you too, Dave. More than you could know.”

David wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you closer. “Tell me to stop,” he whispered, your mouths so close that you could feel his breath against your skin. “Say it and I’ll go, Y/N.”

You could feel heat pooling low inside you, your nerves buzzing from having him so close to you again. “I won’t,” you said breathily.

Suddenly, his lips were on yours, soft yet hungry. He held you tight against him and you moaned, savouring the feeling of his mouth on yours and his tongue slipping between your lips.

The two of you broke the kiss, breathless. You brought your mouth close to David’s ear and whispered, “Let’s get inside.”

•••

The door had hardly shut before David had you against the wall and was shrugging your coat off, his own following suit. You brought his mouth back down to you, revelling in the familiar feel of his lips against yours. His hands were gripping your hips and you could feel your dress riding up as he slotted his thigh between your legs. You moaned into his mouth while grinding down, enjoying the pressure against your mound.

“There’s the Y/N I know,” David murmured into your ear. “Always desperate for more.” He suddenly pulled his leg away but before you could protest, his hand was sliding under the hem of your dress and into your panties.

“Fuck,” you gasped out when his fingers made contact with your clit. David watched you intently, lips parted, as he began rubbing circles around your clit.

“So wet for me, gattina,” he whispered before trailing kisses along your jaw. The combined feeling of him sucking on your neck and his experienced fingers on your clit had your back arching off the wall as you came.

David withdrew his fingers as you came down from your orgasm, panting. He kept his gaze on you as he sucked his fingers clean of your juices, moaning as he savoured your taste. “Even better than I remember,” he smirked.

Grinning, you pressed your mouth back against his, tasting yourself on him. “Why don’t we take this upstairs,” you teased, taking his hand to lead him ro your room.

•••

Now it was your turn to pounce on David. You unbuttoned his shirt as you walked him backwards to the bed. You hardly gave him time to lay down before you were straddling him, lips back on his and your tongue exploring his mouth.

You could feel his bulge beneath you and you groaned, grinding down against him. “Fuck, Y/N,” David panted. His hands were tight around your hips and he suddenly flipped you over so that you were under him instead. “Hey!” You exclaimed.

David chuckled darkly but didn’t say anything, opting instead to move his mouth towards your chest. He slipped the straps of your dress down your shoulders until your tits were exposed before attaching his mouth to your nipple, swirling and sucking expertly.

“Beautiful,” he murmured as he continued travelling downwards. He pulled your dress down the rest of the way and discarded it off to the side, returning his focus to your centre which was scantily clad by the lace panties you had on.

You writhed under him as he hooked his fingers under the waistband of your panties and pulled them down. You could feel his breath against your centre as he used two fingers to hold your folds open. David held your gaze as his mouth made contact with your centre, making you gasp. His tongue gently flicked your clit, running through your folds to collect your juices.

“Dave,” you moaned as he sucked on your clit, his fingers teasing and slowly entering your soaking hole. He picked up the pace, his tongue making you whimper as he brought you closer to the edge. Instinctively, your thighs tried to close together but David held them apart, forcing you to feel the full brunt of the pleasure. You could see the smug look in his eyes before he brought you to orgasm for the second time, your body arching and writhing on the bed as he held you down.

David brought his mouth back up to yours in a sweet, deep kiss after you came down from your high. “Dave,” you mumbled between kisses. “I need to feel you in me.”

With his body over yours, you were able to reach down and unbuckle his belt, making him smile against your lips. He pulled off the rest of his clothes before kneeling in between your legs.

You felt him slowly guide his tip through your folds, and you gasped when you felt him nudge your still-sensitive clit. Gently, he began pushing his cock into your hole. You hissed as he pushed deeper, the sharp pain giving way to pleasure quickly.

“That’s my girl,” David praised from above you. “God, you’re tight, Y/N.” He lowered himself onto you until his face was hovering over yours. He then began a tortuous rhythm of drawing his cock almost all the way out before filling you back up again.“Fuck,” you moaned in his ear. “I’ve missed your cock.” Your words fuelled him, and he met your mouth again in a heated kiss, moaning.

Suddenly, he began slowing his pace until you were whining, and guided you so that you were on all fours by the edge of the bed and he was standing behind you. You gripped your sheets as he began thrusting his cock deep inside you again, making you whimper with pleasure.

“Now this is a sight I’ve missed,” David grunted from above you. “You take my cock so well, gattina.”

You could tell he was nearing the edge; his pace was getting more erratic and you could feel his cock pulsing inside you. Your pussy clenched with your own building orgasm and began milking David’s cock with every thrust. “Come, come for me baby,” you moaned.

“Agh, fuck,” David groaned, his grip on your hips tightening. You suddenly felt his cock twitch and release his load just as waves of pleasure rocked through your body.

Both of you collapsed back into bed, covered in sweat. “You’re incredible, Y/N,” David murmured against your skin. You smiled and pressed a sweet kiss onto his lips before you untangled yourself from him to clean yourself up. Afterwards, you slipped back under the covers. David welcomed you into his arms again where you eventually fell asleep, head nestled against his chest.

[dalamjisung]

A muted shade of green ✧ Chapter 3: X marks the spot

genre: finally some fluff! still some angst, but some fluff too!

word count: 5804

pairing: reader x spencer reid

description: you need spencer back home. so spencer comes back home. simple as that.

a muted shade of green masterlist

previous chapter // next chapter

author's note: you folks are amazing! thank you so much for the support and I know this chapter is a bit duller (aka famous filler chapter) but y/n needs a break from pain and suffering all the time lol <3 if you want to join the taglist for this series, please let me know in the comments!

“She knows who I am.” 

That is the sentence that sets off Plan B. 

Spencer’s instructions are clear: call Penelope and go to the BAU. Office Kaper is to stay with you at all times until you enter the FBI and even then, he will personally deliver you to her caring hands, and for once, you don’t argue. In what has been a very dark past few days, you think that Penelope’s bright colours might do you well. “I have to close the shop,” You tell him on the phone, already changing from your sleeping shorts into some jeans, but keeping his hoodie. Right now, you’re not focused on appearances; you’re focused on getting the hell out of there. 

“That’s fine, but keep Officer Kaper with you. Was the envelope delivered to my place?”

“No,” You breathe out, backpack on and ready to go. Nodding to man that has become your loyal companion, the two of you walk out of the building like any civilian couple. It’s unsettling, watching a man that is not Spencer wear his clothes, but he had to blend in so you two didn’t stand out. 

“And he’s wearing my clothes?” 

You turn to look at Officer Kaper and you snort despite the situation. “As best as he can, though he is considerably shorter than you, Spence.”

“You’re calling me Spence,” He says, and even his voice sounds a bit more at ease. Somehow, in the midst of this craziness, you two find time to ease back into what once was and you manage a small smile despite the anxiety rushing through you. “I missed that.”

“I miss you,” Is what you say back, and you blame it on the adrenaline of being outside, so open and vulnerable to prying eyes. “I… I feel safer when you’re here.”

“I know,” You swear you hear something skin to a smile on his voice. “I’m on my way back.” 

“Yeah, in like three days,” Talking on the phone and closing your shop is no easy feat. You’re no genius and having to split your focus onto two different tasks is quite hard, but you manage. You don’t want to let him go yet, scared that one you can’t hear his voice, he’ll be as good as gone. 

“No, I’m on the jet right now, I should be landing in an hour.”

You shouldn’t feel this happy about having Spencer come back this soon and probably in the middle of an active case, but when a psychotic killer starts sending you handwritten letters, you feel entitled to being a little selfish, even if guilt and anxiety are mixed it like the perfect emotional cocktail. “You didn’t have to,” You say, biting your nails when you finally grab everything you need and lock the door behind you. “Spence, I– thank you.” 

“You need me home,” Is all he says before announcing he has to go.

The silence doesn’t make things easier. Now that you don’t have to split your mind in two to multitask, you can fixated on the fact that this is serious. This is quite serious– Cat Adams has just confirmed she knows you. She has also, however, confirmed she does not know where you are, and just like you told yourself before, you have to believe that there is something better than this out there. There is a moment in time, reserved and crafted by the sisters of fate, in which Cat Adams gets bored with you. You are no longer a struggling rat under the weight of her paws, and she is no longer entranced by how you try to wriggle out of maniacal grasp. In another moment, another sliver of an alternate reality, Cat never even finds out who you are. You like that reality a bit better, because then you also don’t know who she is, and the knowledge of her presence and her impact on Spencer’s life is as weightless as a feather. 

While the city passes by you, the taxi ride to the FBI not as quick as you’d like with the early morning traffic, you allow yourself one more scenario. One more reality. 

In this one, you live in an apartment with muted green walls. Your furniture is that fancy, dark shade of oak and you don’t have to keep your books on the store; instead, you have space to add them to your decoration. You have shelves and shelves of books lining your walls and you think you’ve never seen anything more beautiful than that place. The windows, large and usually covered by cream blinds, are open to allow some sunshine inside. In this reality, you’ve told Spencer all about the benefits of sunlight to your books– none of them true, of course, but he still pretends to believe you, and he still opens the windows before leaving for work. This time around, you dream big– in this alternate life, Spencer never even met Cat Adams. He never even applied to the FBI, in this odd, hallmark version of your story. It doesn’t really matter what he does, but all that matters is that you get to be with him. You get to wake up next to him, to talk to him, to call him… hell, you even get to kiss him! 

This reality, as utopian as it seems, it’s fragile, though. Unrealistic. Spencer loves his job, you know that now. A world where you keep him from it can’t truly be a perfect world, not when he’d be so, so unhappy without his team standing next to him. “Ma’am,” Officer Kaper calls. “We’re here.” 

“Oh!” Grabbing your backpack, you follow him inside, feeling a bit awkward at the way people started at your with puzzled looks on their faces. “Wait! Before you leave, this is for you! You mentioned your daughter likes stories and that she’s about five or so, so these should be fun!” Children’s book is one of your secret passions, and you’re happy to see him smiling as he looks through the titles. 

“You really didn’t have to, Miss Y/L/N.”

“I really wanted to, though,” You smile. You need some light in your life as you walk those beige hallways. “Let me know if she wants more– her dad is a hero, so we have a special deal at the store for you.” 

“I’ll tell little Jane that a very nice lady from work gave her new books then,” He says, nodding as Penelope rushes to your side. “Call me if you need anything else, Miss Y/L/N, I’m happy to help. If it makes you feel better, you’ve been dealing with this exceptionally well. It can’t be easy.”

The validation has you pursing your lips, trying to hold back the need to hug him. In no way, shape, or form are you two close– to be honest, this is the most you’ve spoken with Officer Kaper during the forty-eight hours you spent together; and yet, his opinion seems to mean something to you. Your hands hide behind your back and you exhale sharply, nodding at him, eyes glassing over with emotion. “Thank you,” You whisper, head whipping at the familiar sound of heels waddling down the hall. “I’ll uh, I’ll go… but thank you. For everything.” 

He just nods, leaving with a wave and a smile. 

“Either you joined the FBI since we last saw each other or this sweatshirt belongs to a certain genius man,” Penelope says, looking at you with the ghost of a smile. If you didn’t know any better, 

“What? Oh. Yeah, I borrowed it from Spence,” You mumble, hands nervously fidgeting with your backpack. There isn’t much of anything inside, and you think you got flustered when you had Spencer on the phone telling you to get ready to go. All you remember is packing your toothbrush, a couple of books, and some underwear. “Oh, sweet girl,” Penelope sighs, her arm light on your shoulders, guiding you through those horrid halls. You think you hate the FBI headquarters more than you hate Cat Adams, and that is saying something. “Everything will be okay. Boy genius is on it, and he’ll figure this out in no time.”

“Seven days is quite a lot of time,” It’s not fair, how your words make her frown, but you have no one else. The words tumble out of your mouth before you can control them because this is what you’ve been dying to do since you first left that goddamned office, seven fucking days ago. And that is your regret– not talking to Spencer when you had the chance, not letting him talk to you, not… not letting him be therefor you. “God, seven days is a lot– it’s a whole week! I don’t know what you believe in, but if you’re Catholic, God created the Earth in seven days and– well, six days and Sunday he rested, but honestly, semantics. And it’s a whole week, one-fourth of a month. Seven days, and– and–“

“I am not judging you, because I am the biggest yapper of this team,” Penelope cuts right in, hand up in the air between you two. “But you need to breathe. I know seven days is a lot. And I hate that you’re in a position that you feel like you need to count the days. But there are no better people to have on your corner than this team. I promise you, Y/N, and– look!” She shakes her phone in front of your face. “Lover boy just landed! He’ll be here soon, so for now, please sit down and drink some tea?”

The door in the end of many, many hallways later is her office. You don’t really understand the juxtaposition of Penelope Garcia, and that’s okay– you might not understand her, but at least, with her, it feels like what you see is what you get. She wears her authenticity on her sleeve and you actually feel at ease around her because of it. There is not an ounce of ambiguity, not a shred of secrecy coming from her. She looks at you– really looks at you– and in her eyes you know how she feels. Penelope, unlike the rest of the team, is not a trained profiler, and even though you are quite limited in your knowledge of what exactly a profiler like Morgan and JJ does, the internet provided you with enough general background that you know just how… proficient… they are in hiding their own selves from the world. Apparently it’s a part of the job, but at one point, you have to wonder just how intrinsic is the job and their overall selves, and if when Spencer comes back home, does he leaves the job behind or is he always on the clock?

“Here, it chamomile,” The mug is bright pink and purple, and despite the room being dark and cold, you see how she has made it her own. The figurines and stickers on the screens around you make you smile weakly, sipping on the tea while sitting down next to her. Her screens are locked, and you are thankful for that– it makes you feel like at least someone is trying to separate you and the world you never wanted to know existed. “How are you feeling?”

You shrug a little, finger running around the rim of the cup. “I… I’m scared. And this feels really stupid, you know? It’s not even about me, but I’m the one kicking a fuss about everything,” Shaking your head, you let out a big exhale, like you have been holding it in for the longest time. “All because of a silly crush, oh my god…” 

“Wait… Wha– What…?” 

“I know,” You laugh at yourself, that type of chuckle that is so dry and void that even you worry. Underneath it all, underneath all the anger and the confusion and the disbelief, you think you just feel… dumb. You feel stupid. Like you’ve played yourself, and poor Spencer doesn’t even know. “How stupid am I? Getting a serial killer on my back, all because I liked a boy? And it’s not even like he likes me back, so this is all just… so fucked up. I wish I could go visit her and tell her that I don’t have Spencer, not like how she thinks I do.” 

“You like Reid?” Her smile is so big that her voice comes out all weird and squeaky. “You actually have a crush on little boy genius?”

“I–“ The hesitation in your voice is obvious. “I did. Spence is just so kind. And gentle, and loving, and he has this huge heart, you know? He used to bring me coffee every day he visited, and he would tell me all these really cool facts about the most random things, and I swear, I loved listening to him talk.” Without even realising, you’re smiling, wide and true, for what it felt like the first time in forever. You bring your legs up on the chair, hugging your knees close just to feel that sense of security it brings you, grounding you in the moment. The memories of your time with him, your favourite customer, are precious to you; and much like old time treasure, you hide it in the depths of your mind, away and untouched by prying hands of people around you. 

Except, Cat Adams found your map. 

And X marks the spot. 

It’s just a matter of time until she finds the golden chest and picks at the lock. 

Slowly, your smile slips away. “But now… now things changed, you know?” You gulp, not having the capacity to face the pitiful look she gives you without crying. And you’re tired of crying. 

“You didn’t change. Reid didn’t change, he’s still the same kind and gentle and loving man…!” You’re almost swayed by the desperation behind her voice. Penelope is a great friend and you can’t believe you were once jealous of her, but even then, you grimace. It’s not like you don’t want to let yourself be guided by these feelings– you want to let the butterflies loose, you want to allow yourself the giddiness of being with him, you want to have this quintessential girlhood experience, but the threat looming over your head pushes you down and away. You’re scared and you have all the reason to be. 

“Haven’t I?” You ask, cocking your head to the side. “Anyways, at the risk of sounding like a middle schooler, it’s not like he likes me either.”

“Y/N, he– he’s different,” Penelope whispers, reaching for your hand. “He’s afraid of germs and rambles a lot and he’s been hurt before, but please, if you just give him a shot, I think you could be really good for him.” 

“How would you know?” You’re not trying to be rude, you even smile a little, but the question stood– how would she know? You two had very limited interactions. 

“Because he talks a lot about you, and… well,” She confesses, chuckling like she had just done something naughty. When she points at the screens though, you gasp. “I know more about you thank you think.”

That makes your blood run cold. “You– what– what did you find out?” 

“Not as much as I could’ve!” She quickly promises, turning to the screen and quickly pulling up a file. The first thing you see is your driver’s license, and you wince at the picture. “This is all I managed to get before Reid put a ban on me!”

“He put a ban on you looking me up?” 

“Yes, he said he didn’t want to cheat and that he wanted to wait for you to tell him whatever you wanted to tell him,” Her words come out so fast you barely understand them, but it still tugs at your heart. “He said you didn’t know who he was because you didn’t know he worked for the FBI, and I tried telling him that’s not all he is! I did, but Reid is a stubborn, stubborn genius and wouldn’t listen to me! But he is, Y/N, he is much more than this job and–“

“I know that,” You whisper, eyes running through the documents on the screen. Degrees, past addresses, old jobs, family… and past relationships. Your body tenses up at the small list of names, one in particular making you gulp, glancing quickly at Penelope. “This is all, right? You… you didn’t dig more, right?” 

“Yes, this is all! I promise! To be very honest, I could find anything I wanted, but as I mentioned, I’ve been banished and threatened with a long, long lecture on privacy laws.” 

Her words echo in your mind for a moment, eyes unmoving from the bright screens. “Anything?” 

Penelope looks at your with hesitation. “Anything that has been online, yeah. Why?”

Sitting back down, you take a deep breath and nod. “Show me Cat Adams.”

“Oh… Oh, Y/N, no, no no no, I can’t–“

“Yes, you can! You just said you can find anything and, honestly how hard would it be for me to pick up my phone and Google her? If the FBI made the arrest, I’m sure media has picked it up!” Before you can even reach for the device, Penelope is grabbing it, hiding it behind her. “Penelope, please! This woman wants to kill me, I deserve to know what she looks like!”

Your voice is hushed, the undertone of desperation seeping through every word. “What if she gets out?” 

“Y/N, she has a life sentence, she’ll never get out.”

“You don’t know that!” This is what scares Penelope, the way you screech in panic, hands flying to the neck of the hoodie and tugging it away from you like you need it to breathe. “You don’t know that and I need to know what she looks like! Please, Penelope, I’m begging you!”

The tension in the room is palpable, but you know you got through her when she sighed. “I’m doing this for your protection,” It’s more like she’s talking to herself, so all you do is nod quietly, getting up and walking to the back of her chair. “Are you ready?” 

“Yes,” You are holding your breath while you squeeze the back of her chair, trying to keep yourself upright for a moment that could easily throw off your balance. 

In all honesty, you are not sure what you’re expecting. The little you know about black widow killers comes from a fictional world of made up characters, a place where the fantastical magic of made up stories meets the trauma ridden lives of turbulent characters. In them, these killers are beautiful. In fact, their beauty is their weapon, right before their grace and intelligence. It’s almost sick, how you remember liking those stories so much you once called it ‘a form of female empowerment’, and just thinking about it has your stomach tied in a bunch of knots, each one pulling and tugging at you in a rhythm that is too chaotic to not have you hunched over, panting next to Penelope like the photo she pulls up on her computer has just punched you in the gut. 

Because despite all your silent prayers, Cat Adams, in her orange jumpsuit and messy prison hair, is gorgeous. It’s something about her eyes, so cold and distant, yet holding an invitation that even you might not be able to resist. Is this how she draws men in? Is this how she drew Spencer? “I–“

“Garcia, what are you doing?!” 

Both of your turn around at the same time, both of you shocked at the sight of Spencer, in all his sweater vest glory and red face anger, marching towards you both. “Take it down.” 

You have never heard him sound so cold. “Spence, I asked her to pull it up. I was curious.”

“She should’ve known better, she’s an FBI agent!” Now he is screaming, and you can’t help but feel overcome with a familiar type of shame. Part of you, a specific part you left back in New York, expects him to to keep screaming. It’s the part of you that unconsciously pushes the tea mug away. It’s the part of you that looks at the door and feels relieved to see it unlocked. It’s the part of you you’ve been hiding from him and everyone else you met since you’ve moved. 

It’s the part of you Spencer just noticed. 

“I’m sorry,” He says, squinting his eyes at your so quickly it’s almost imperceptible. Almost. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have screamed, I’m just–“

“On edge,” You whisper, nodding in agreement. “We all are, Spence. Don’t scream at her, please.”

“I know, I know, I’m really sorry,” This is more like him– shy eyes casted down between glances here and there. “I just don’t want you wasting your time on someone like her. She doesn’t deserve it.” 

No one says anything for a while. Until you notice it. 

“Spence,” You mumble, smiling a little in an attempt to ease the high emotions in the room. “You cut your hair.” It’s shorter now. His shaggy curls still peek out, but it looks more… grown, even if it enhances his boyish charm. 

“I did,” He mumbles, blushing a little. For a second, he looks at Penelope, like he’s asking her what to say and what to do. “It was getting too long.”

“It looks really good.” 

“Thank you, Y/N,” God, you love when his voice gets low and airy like that. Garcia is looking between you two with a certain kind of spark in her eyes and it makes you shift on your feet. “Uh, shall we go home?” 

“You’re going back to your apartment?”

“Yeah, Officer Kaper said that the letter came with the batch of mail they got from Y/N’s apartment, so it’s safe to assume she has no knowledge of her current whereabouts,” Spencer picks up your backpack without even asking, smiling at you innocently. “I reviewed the security footage you sent of my apartment entrance and there is no suspicious activity happening during the days I was gone. And, well, you know, I’m here now. She’s safe.” 

No one will ever understand the amount of relief you feel in that exact moment. “Thank you for coming back.”

“You need me home,” Is all he says before guiding you away. When you turn to say bye to Penelope, she is smirking, giving you two thumbs up and a giggle. In the midst of all this mess, you actually feel happy to have someone allowing you to enjoy a moment of silliness. “Are you okay? Do you feel a bit better?”

“Now that you’re back, yeah,” You sigh, sticking close to him as you pass by a group of agents. “Officer Kaper is really sweet, but he’s not you, he’s not–“

“Familiar,” Spencer says, but you shake your head. 

“He’s not my friend.” 

“And I am?” The hope in his eyes crushes your heart. You never meant to make him feel like you had left him behind, but you know you have pushed him away when he tried to stand by you. 

No more. 

“You are, Spence,” You breathe out, hand gently falling on his arm and squeezing it adoringly. “You’re my favourite customer and I guess now you’re my living room-mate. But you should really sleep in your bed tonight, okay?” The joke is just an attempt to make him smile, and you’re happy to see it works.

“Will you sleep next to me?” 

His question is not that unexpected, really, but it still makes you freeze in place. “Uh… What… What do you mean?” 

“Sleep next to me,” His bluntness doesn’t help with the way your cheeks fire up. “I know you’re scared, so if you’re next to me, I’ll be watching over you at all times. I’m a light sleeper, so even if something happens, I’ll wake up. We can put pillows between us, if the thought of me that close to you makes you uncomfortable and–“

“It doesn’t,” You say before you can give up on it. “I just… I know you’re a germaphobe and I don’t know how many germs can be shared when you sleep next to someone and I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“Actually, when you sleep next to someone, there is an exchange of bacteria and skin microbes when we turn and move around, but your brain compensates by releasing the ‘happy’ hormones because you’re sleeping next to someone you care about, so I wouldn’t mind the former much considering we would wake up pretty content.” 

Someone you care about. You hold your tongue back from asking him if he cares about you– at this point, you should know he does. You shouldn’t need the reassurance, as nice as it would feel to have it, but you really, really want it. In a time where everything is uncertain, you pray so that Spencer can be your constant. “Okay,” You nod, hand slowly slipping down his arm, brushing yours fingers through his, before letting it go altogether. Looking down to the ground, embarrassed with your own courage, you follow him out of the building. “The subway is that way.”

“We’re getting a taxi,” He mumbles, signalling one down as he spoke. “I don’t think public spaces with that much visibility are a good idea for now. I don’t want you paranoid, Y/N, but I need you to be careful, okay? Subways, buses, all of these get crowded and they have a large amount of surveillance. We still can’t figure out how Cat found out where you live or who is her connection that got your name through the UPS delivery, but we’re not stopping until we do, I promise you that. For now, we just ask that you be careful around people.”

“I work with people. I have to talk to them to sell them stuff… I can’t lose my store, it’s all I have!” The two of you turn to face each other on the back of the car. He is shaking his head before you can even continue, and when you feel it, the warmth of his hands covering yours, so much bigger and steadier to the point that is like he’s holding your fists in his palms, you hold your breath. 

“You won’t,” He whispers, shaking his head so gently that wisps of hair fall over his forehead and you have to fight the urge to push it back. “Y/N, you won’t. We’ll figure something out, okay?”

“Okay,” The trust you have in Spencer is enough to have you nodding along. Until the car stops in front of his apartment, he doesn’t let go of your hand, and you make no effort in letting go of his. 

It’s only when it’s time to pay for the ride that you pull away, faster than him in getting the money to the driver. “Hey!” 

“Be faster next time, boy genius,” You say, smiling tiredly while walking next to him through the hallways of his building until you reach Apartment 23. Using your key in front of him, the one he gave you when he went away, feels weird and oddly intimate. “Do you want this back?”

“Keep it,” Spencer says, giving you his trademark tight-lipped smile. The way his shoulders sag a little as soon as he is inside the familiar apartment has you frowning. He is exhausted, tired from flying and rushing through the city, but he still made the effort to come get you at the BAU. “What do you want for dinner? We can get some pizza.” 

“I have leftovers in the fridge,” You mumble, suddenly too out of place in the apartment you know at the palm of your hand. Standing in the entrance, you just look at him, watching him walk around the apartment so carelessly and you wonder if Spencer knows just how meaningful it is for you to have him back home. “I bought groceries, don’t worry, I didn’t use any of your food or anything like that.”

“I wasn’t worried, but now I am. I told you to be comfortable Y/N.” 

“I am…” You mumble, moving to sit down on the armchair. 

Under his watchful gaze, you’re not sure how much Spencer can get out of your behaviour right now. It’s a bit sad that you’re even thinking about this so consciously, observing him as he observes you right back. You know you will never win a battle of wits against the genius across the room, but no ones knows you better than yourself and that is currently your only leverage in this entire situation. But… why do you even need leverage? What is this war you have started with yourself and pulled poor Spencer in without even letting him know? The blanket you adore so much is right by your feet and you pull it up to cover your whole body, all the way up to your face. At this point, you don’t want him reading you because you’re afraid of what he will find. Specially because you don’t know what he will find. 

“What are you doing, Y/N?” When he sits on the corner of the chair, your body dips to the side, rolling closer to him. “Are you hiding?” 

“Yeah.” 

“And why are you hiding?” 

“Because you’re an avid reader,” Even you want to cringe at your own words. “And I’m not really sure what story I’m telling, right now.” 

His laughter takes you by surprise– this has to be the loudest you’ve heard Spencer be. “Y/N, what are you talking about? I’m not going to read you!”

“Spencer, you can’t help it! It’s what you do– I see the way you look at me, okay? I know what you’re doing, and I have to say I am not a fan!”

With one tug on the blanket, your face is exposed again with hair all over it. But then you see his smile, and it looks so honest and happy, like a version of him you thought you had left behind days ago. “You think I’m reading you?”

“Are you not?” You ask, sitting up to try and look at him with a serious expression. 

“No, Y/N, I’m not looking at you because I’m reading you.” 

There are moments in your life, unique and specific in their own credits, that you are sure you will never forget. The day you decided to leave New York is one of them– you bought tickets last minute and left with only a rucksack you found in the back of your closet. On the way to the airport, you called your parents, waking them up at three in the morning to tell them they were going to need to ship your stuff to a PO box address. Y/N, where are you going?, your mom cried out. What is going on? To which all you said was I’ll tell you when I can, before hanging up and throwing your SIM card out of the window. 

Opening your store was high in the list too. Not the day that you conceptualised it or rented the place– the day you truly opened it. The day your first customer, your favourite customer, walked in, that’s the day you truly opened the place. The day he bought a book and promised to come back again. 

Of course there are other dates, too; simpler dates. Birthdays, christmases, random family dinners. The small things that build-up to be big memories. But then there are the big things that are even bigger memories, and you’re intimidated, with the size of it all. It’s too big, too tall, and when you fall, it might just be high enough to break all your bones, but not kill you completely. No… that would be too merciful. 

This– Cat Adams, Spencer, the box– this is not just big. 

This is huge. 

In comparison, tonight is not all that big. In fact, his living room feels quite small now that both of you are back inside. The green walls descend and it’s just you and him, squeezed close in an arm chair you both love, surrounded by books you both love, and you still can’t help but feel afraid. This is as small as it gets, as monotonous as it gets, and yet, this is the most scared you’ve ever felt, because no matter what you do, it’s like you can’t stop climbing– you go higher, higher, higher. His words, replaying in your mind, keep pushing you up, without any regard of how you’ll ever come down. 

Truthfully, you don’t want to come down, even if he brings you down gently. 

“Then… why do you stare at me, Spence?”

He doesn’t answer you, shaking his head slightly before looking away and clearing his throat. Uncomfortableness doesn’t look good on him, and that is saying something, coming from the one person who thinks everything looks good on him. “I uh, I’ll heat up some of those leftovers. Shall I get you some, too?” 

Spencer might the profiler, but you are still able to read the blooming colour in his cheeks. “Yeah,” You say softly, I would love some, Spence.”

Dinner with him is peaceful. You’re learning how to live this new life with a plus one. You learn his habits and his quirks– you learn that he likes to put ketchup on his pizza and that he drowns his coffee in sugar. That despite his immense IQ, he still can’t quite cook for himself– or prefers not doing so. That he made sure his cleaning lady came during the times he was away to avoid small talk and human contact. You learn, through a lot of trials and a lot of success, that you are his one exception. 

For you, Spencer is malleable, and he has no qualms in moulding himself to your needs, except… except you don’t want him to do that. You don’t want him to be someone he’s not and you don’t want the Spencer you know and adore to be someone curated just for you. 

“I’ll go take a shower and change into some comfortable clothes,” He says after he finishes eating. “Thank you for the food.” 

“No problem.” 

“And Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“You can keep that hoodie. You look good in it.” 

Just like that, you chuckle, shaking your head when he disappears behind the bedroom door. If Cat Adams has the map to your past memories, Spencer Reid has the map to your future ones. 

X marks the spot. 

And for him there is no lock to pick– the door is wide open. 

---------------------------------------

Taglist:

@fanfic-viewer

@mysticpeachobject

@donttrustlove  

@r-3dlips 

@lolitsbuckybarnes 

@lilrios-world 

@iniyalovesall 

@beabfleab

@dojacatismywife 

@queenofshinigamis

@beersangel

@catchthewindd

@charismatic-writer

@freaky-dcaky

@scarlettoh

@drreidslove

@spicyytomatoyay

@kitty-kei

@sapphirecobalt-1

@jebesovovise

@cultish-corner

@areiofhope

@candid-confetti

@godilovetoomuch

@redros3y 

@gibson-g1rl

@bunnylov-3-r

@yokaimoon 

@glorioussunrise13

@idkimheretoreadonethibgofpsencdd

@pleasantwitchgarden

@issy25

@ilovechanyeol16

@gghostwriter

@stanswifties

@chicaconfundidaycuriosa

@dragon03138

@tbsloneely

[casedclosedbye]

Braiding the lines

Spencer reid x reader

Oneshot

Fluff

Wc: 2k

Summary: A thought popped into your head, and before you knew it, you were standing and walking toward him. "Hey," you said, surprising even yourself, "can I braid your hair?" Spencer blinked, his eyebrows quirking in that way that made him seem both completely puzzled and oddly intrigued. "My hair?" he repeated, as if it was a foreign concept.

The apartment was quiet, save for the soft hum of the ceiling fan, and the faint rustling of pages turning in a well-worn book. You sat on the couch, curled up in a blanket, your legs tucked under you, eyes scanning a page of your own novel—though your focus was slipping. Your mind kept wandering to the figure across the room, Spencer Reid.

He was sprawled across the armchair in the corner of the living room, his head tilted down as he focused on his book. A faint light from the lamp on the side table illuminated the sharp lines of his face, the way his hair fell messily over his forehead, and the intensity with which he read. He was always like that—so lost in whatever he was doing, so absorbed in his thoughts.

You shifted slightly, a thought flickering in your mind. It had been a while since you'd spent an evening like this, just the two of you, no case looming, no FBI emergency. Just quiet time together.

Finally, you set your book down, the decision made. The soft clink of your cup as you placed it down on the coffee table drew his attention. Spencer looked up, a soft smile forming on his face when his eyes met yours.

"Something on your mind?" he asked, his voice quiet, but that familiar edge of curiosity to it.

"Actually... yeah," you said, glancing at the pile of notes and books he'd accumulated in his space. "I was thinking… maybe I could braid your hair."

Spencer blinked, his eyebrows furrowing in slight confusion, though there was no real hesitation in his expression. "My hair?"

"Yeah. You've been letting it grow out a bit, and it's getting a little long. I could braid it for you... If you want. It seems like it could be kind of relaxing."

A surprised laugh escaped him, but it was genuine, more of a chuckle than anything else. "I’m not sure I’ve ever had someone braid my hair before," he admitted, running a hand through the mess of curls on his head. "But, I mean… I guess it could be a good way to wind down. I don’t mind."

You could sense his quiet curiosity about the idea, and as you moved to sit next to him on the armchair, the tension in his shoulders seemed to soften. You reached for his hair, fingers brushing against the slightly damp strands, noticing how it seemed to have grown longer since the last time you’d really paid attention to it.

"Alright, let’s do this." You grinned. "No going back now, Reid."

Spencer chuckled softly again, then leaned back in the chair, allowing you to settle behind him. There was a moment of silence, and you could hear the steady rhythm of his breathing, his muscles relaxing as you began to run your fingers gently through his hair. You knew he was always a bit more sensitive to touch than most people, and it made you focus even more carefully as your hands slid through the strands, smoothing out any tangles.

"How does it feel?" you asked after a moment, pausing to check in.

"Good," Spencer murmured, his voice soft, almost sleepy. "It’s… kind of soothing, actually."

"Glad you think so. You're so tense sometimes, I figured this might help."

A quiet silence settled in as you continued working through his hair, weaving your fingers through it in slow, practiced motions. You had braided your own hair for years, but doing it for someone else felt different. It felt like you were giving a little part of yourself over, offering something intimate. You’d noticed how Spencer tended to avoid touching his hair too much, almost as though he wasn’t quite sure what to do with it when it wasn’t in its usual disheveled state.

"Why don't you let it grow out more?" you asked after a few minutes, as you delicately sectioned off his hair, separating it into three strands. "It suits you. The curls are kind of… charming."

He huffed a laugh, a small, self-deprecating sound. "Charming? You’re just saying that."

"No, I mean it," you replied with a small smile. "It makes you look… I don't know, kind of mysterious? Like a mad scientist, but in the best possible way."

"Mad scientist?" he asked, sounding slightly amused, but also intrigued. "I’ve never been called that before."

"You’ve got the whole eccentric genius thing going on, I think," you said, your fingers working with his hair, weaving the sections more tightly together. "It suits you. And this," you added with a light tug, "definitely suits you."

There was a long pause as Spencer processed the comment, and for a moment, you thought he might say something in response. But instead, he just sighed in contentment, his body relaxing even further as your fingers continued their slow, rhythmic movements.

"Maybe I should grow it out more," he said, after a moment, as if considering the possibility.

You smiled. "I think you'd look good with longer hair. More people would probably notice you too."

Spencer hummed thoughtfully, as if debating that. You focused on finishing the braid, working quickly and efficiently, now that the first few sections were in place. His hair was a little longer than usual, so it took a bit more time to manage. You kept your hands steady, not wanting to rush.

"Do you think I care if people notice me?" Spencer’s voice was quiet, but there was something thoughtful about it, something more vulnerable in the way he asked.

You paused, considering his question, realizing there was more behind it than simple curiosity. You hadn’t been sure if Spencer, with all his intelligence and the depth of his mind, cared much about things like appearance. He wasn’t someone who placed importance on being seen, or at least, that’s how it seemed.

"I think," you said slowly, "it’s not so much about whether or not people notice you. It’s about… well, whether you notice *yourself* sometimes. You’re smart, Spence. You do incredible things, but I think you forget to take care of the little things. Like letting someone braid your hair, or noticing that your hair’s a bit longer than you thought."

His lips curved into a smile, but there was no teasing in his expression—just a quiet acknowledgment.

"Maybe you're right," he said, his voice quieter now, like he was mulling over your words. "Maybe I should let people take care of me more."

You finished the braid, the end of it hanging neatly against the back of his chair. Gently, you tied it with a small elastic band you found in your bag. There was something oddly satisfying about the simple act, about taking care of him in this small, tender way.

"All done," you said, leaning back to admire your work. "How does it feel?"

Spencer reached up to touch the braid, his fingers brushing over the smooth, neat sections. "It feels… surprisingly good," he said, the surprise in his voice almost amused now. "Like I’m a little more put-together than I usually am."

"Good," you said, smiling. "It’s nice to see you relaxing a bit."

Spencer gave you a small, genuine smile in return, his eyes softening as they met yours. "Thanks for doing this," he said quietly, as if the gesture itself meant more than the words conveyed. "I didn’t realize how much I needed this… Just sitting here with you."

The moment between you both lingered for a while, a quiet connection, a soft warmth in the space you shared. The apartment felt even quieter now, the buzz of the world outside fading into the background, replaced by the subtle rhythm of your breath and the shared understanding that sometimes, it’s the small things that bring people closer.

[astrophileous]

Derek giggling when Bug starts to waddle due to pregnancy 🤭 she doesn’t find it funny or endearing at all but he literally cannot stop watching her. He tells the team about it too and they just.. kinda smile and nod because they’re just happy that he is.

Somewhat a continuation of this other Love Bugs blurb. Thanks for the request love! (and apologies for the delay because I've been very focused on The Countdown lately)

Love Bugs Masterlist / Criminal Minds Masterlist

Spencer stretched his back at the mysterious and unfamiliar sound. Next to him, JJ's eyes squinted in concentration.

"You hear that, too?" JJ mumured as she studied her surroundings, trying to pinpoint where exactly the sound was originating from.

Spencer nodded in confusion. "Who the hell—"

The question died in his throat when his eyes finally landed on the figure sitting across the room.

"No way." Spencer's elbow jabbed JJ's side, snatching her attention. "It's Morgan."

"Morgan? Derek Morgan?" JJ craned her neck to see around the partitions that blocked her direct line of sight. "What is he—don't tell me. Is he... is he giggling?"

As if confirming the ridiculous notion, Derek proceeded to cover his mouth and broke into, not laughter and not even a chuckle, but a series of giggles that made his broad shoulders shook. JJ and Spencer exchanged an incredulous look before they meandered sneakily towards him.

"Someone's happy," JJ quipped as she leaned back against the conference table, right next to where Derek was sitting.

The man in question looked up at the sudden interruption.

"What are you even watching in there?" Spencer asked curiously, trying to take a peek at the screen of Derek's phone that the latter man had been grinning at for the past few minutes.

Instead of tilting his phone away, Derek unexpectedly faced the screen towards his two coworkers instead, giving them an unobstructed view of what appeared to be a video of you.

"Penelope sent it to me." Derek grinned before pressing replay. "She waddles."

The video started playing then, showing a footage of you walking like a penguin as you struggled to carry the various snacks inside your arms. You looked up to the camera at the sound of Penelope's laughter, your face twisting into a pout when you noticed that it was pointed towards you.

"Peennn," you whined childishly. "Are you filming for him again?"

"He said he wants to see one where you waddle, Beets."

The scowl you were wearing was clearly visible through the screen. "Tell him to stop. It's not cute."

"I don't know." Penelope hummed. "It's pretty damn adorable from where I'm sitting."

The video ceased to black after that, and Derek retracted the device without ever wiping the smile off his face.

"You've been watching this for the past ten minutes?" Spencer questioned.

"Yeah."

The younger man looked as if he had something else to say, but he never got the chance to, as Derek was quick to immerse himself back in the video and watching it so earnestly as if it was the greatest movie in the history of mankind. Spencer and JJ shared a look before making themselves scarce. It was definitely weird seeing Derek act this way, but they didn't mind it one bit if it implied Derek's unadulterated happiness and your guaranteed safety.

For the rest of their stay in Louisville, Kentucky, the BAU became witness to Derek's blooming glee as it incessantly doubled in size with every video Penelope sent his way. More often than not, he'd let the team watch the videos as well. After all, they had also been missing your presence in their midst since you began your maternity leave, and every single one of them couldn't wait to finally welcome your baby boy into the world when the time finally came.

Derek was buzzing with excitement the moment they boarded the jet, impatiently counting down the minutes until he would see you again as the jet started its ascend. An hour before they were supposed to land, his phone began to ring in his pocket, flashing with the affectionate contact name that he had assigned for the team's tech analyst.

"Yeah, babygirl? What?" The sudden raising of his voice caught the attention of everyone on the jet. They watched from their respective seat as Derek sat up straight, running a frantic hand over his face. "Okay. Yeah? And how is she? That's good. Alright, thanks for calling. Keep me posted."

The call ended after that, and Derek, uncharacteristically, proceeded to sit in silence for the following minute as if he had been frozen in time.

"Everything okay?" Rossi asked, voicing the question that was circling everyone's mind.

"That was Penelope. It's (Y/N)." The atmosphere shifted. "She's going into labor."

[kimstills]

was just thinking about how reader would definitely like to tease aaron after he gets some sort of glasses (either reading or blue light ones) by stealing them from him and trying them on as an innocent joke but aaron genuinely gets turned on watching them wear them fhdjsjwkwkw

sharing - aaron hotchner x fem!reader

content warnings: established relationship, riding, rough sex, mix of praise and dirty talk, groping, choking. word count: 964

aaron’s new reading glasses rest on the very tip of your nose, threatening to fall in between your bodies with every single thrust your boyfriend delivers.

you don’t know how you got yourself here, both knees on either side of aaron’s thighs with his dick buried deep inside you. his gaze was fixated on your flushed face and your dizzy expression as you did your best to meet his thrusts.

his reaction was primal, feral, almost, to the sight of you trying on his glasses for ‘fun’, resting the plastic frames on the very tip of your nose and looking up at him with a teasing, amused expression on your face.

now you sat on his lap, pajama shorts and panties pushed to the side as his cock drilled in to you from below. your mouth was agape, the moans that fell from your lips matching the same pace he had set himself to.

your hands were resting on his chest, the fabric of his shirt balled up in your fists as you felt how deep he was. how his tip brushed against that one sweet spot, sending you into pure ecstasy.

“a-aaron, baby,” you mumbled, closing your mouth for a moment as you felt drool threaten to spill from your lips, “please, please, please,”

the way you were babbling only made aaron go faster, big hands gripping your hips and spreading his legs as to spread your own, adjusting himself once more in order to pistol into your pussy even deeper.

a loud moan escaped from your mouth and echoed through the room, your head lolling down to rest on aaron’s shoulder. you gasp when the force in which your forehead knocked against hm makes the glasses finally slip from your nose and land in between your connected bodies.

you look up at aaron, mouth still open and eyes almost cross-eyed as you watch him look down at his fallen glasses.

“aaron, i’m—aaron!”

your apology is cut short when your boyfriend stops thrusting into you, making you whine when he pauses to reach for them and place them back on your nose.

“there we go,” aaron mumbles, taking a good look at you before leaning back even further in the couch. his hands find their place on your hips again, grinding your hips into his cock and grunting when you resumed the pace on your own, “good girl, taking me so well.”

reeling in the way you picked up your own pace desperately, his hands roamed the rest of your upper body, rubbing at your sides in an encouraging manner before fully lifting your shirt and tossing it over your head. he cupped your breasts in his palm, gripping and squeezing in such a possessive manner that had you pushing back into his palm.

“you look so good, honey,” he murmurs, leaning forward and connecting his lips to a nipple, the other hand fiddling with the sensitive bud, “wearing my glasses and riding me,”

your hips began to stutter from the attention he was giving your tits, breath labored and mind foggy from the way his tongue swirled around them, “baby, please m-move,” you begged, tugging at the short hairs from the back of his head before pushing his mouth closer.

aaron hummed, pressing a kiss and a soft bite to your other breast that had you hissing in pleasure before he reached back to grab at the hand that was holding his head in place. in a swift motion, he grabbed the other hand that rested on the couch’s armrest as a way to steady yourself and pinned them behind your back.

you were about to let out a whine of protest until he began thrusting another brutal pace into your soaking pussy, making you bounce in his lap.

your boyfriend watched as your breasts jiggled in motion with his pace, mouth open as breathy, pitched moans fell from your lips. your head was thrown back and his glasses had slipped to the very bottom of your nose, threatening to fall again.

“fuck, sweetheart, you’re a vision,” aaron groaned, unable to stop himself from snaking a hand up your throat, the other holding back both wrists as he squeezed at the sides of your throat, “you gonna come for me, honey?” he asks sweetly, a contrast from the way he was fucking you.

you nod, too occupied letting out sweet sounds that only edged aaron even further. you whispered his name over and over, managing whatever strength you had left to try and meet his thrusts one more time, whispers turning into loud moans as you felt the knot in your stomach tighten and tighten.

“come for me, pretty girl,” he encourages, “wanna see you come around my dick wearing my glasses, hm?”

“yes, yes, yes,” you murmur, reeling in the pleasure before you felt yourself come undone.

aaron watched in complete satisfaction, brows furrowed as he took in the way your body stuttered and shook as you rode out your orgasm. he grunted at the way your walls clenched around him, only spurring on his own high before he was spilling into you.

he delivered a few more ragged, sloppy thrusts, dick twitching inside you as he watched the plastic frames drop from your nose onto the midline of your upper lip. he reached for them, gently taking them off your face and setting them aside on the table next to the couch before cradling your body into his chest.

you complied, burying your face in the crook of his neck and humming in satisfaction from both your orgasms.

only a couple of moments of silence passed before you asked, “does this mean you’re gonna make me wear your glasses each time we have sex?”

aaron groans.