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pathologicalreid · 4 months ago

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for the fear of falling apart | part two

returning to Everett Lynch's case, you try to redefine normalcy with Spencer and JJ, but Grace Lynch has other plans for you

series masterlist

who? spencer reid x jareau!reader category: angst, hurt/comfort content warnings: gun violence, spoilers/references to: 9x6 "in the blood", 9x14 "200", 9x23 "angels", 9x24 "demons", 13x22 "believer", 14x1 "300", 14x15 "truth or dare". rewrite of 15x1 "under the skin", 15x2 "awakenings". a lot of dialogue is pulled directly from the show. hospitals/medical information. diana's alzheimers. marriage talk. roslyn's suicide. the parentification of jennifer jareau. mommy AND daddy issues. fear of drowning. word count: 7.48k a/n: it's two days late, but it's three times longer than part one. welcome to the abyss of my brain. it's scary in here.

Your name was being called. First, it felt far away, slowly coming closer and closer, lifting you to the surface as if you were being pulled. The sound was muffled until you broke through the barrier, a female voice clearly called your name, prompting your eyes to fly open, and there you were, sitting up on Penelope’s velvet couch, cocooned in a crocheted blanket with what was sure to be a remarkable bedhead.

Lifting your hand and placing it over your racing heart, you looked up at Penelope, the blue streak that you had redone for her last night prominent against her blonde hair. “Hey,” you said, widening your eyes and letting the blanket fall from your shoulders.

She crooked a brow at you suspiciously. For someone who wasn’t a profiler, she did have a knack for reading people, but you supposed it came with the territory. “My darling girl, you are always more than welcome to sleep on my couch, it’s a wonderful couch, I have spent my fair share of nights sleeping on it,” she rambled, sitting down next to you and taking your hands in hers. “You’re hiding,” she told you softly, “What are you hiding from?”

Penelope reached out to you, sweeping a messy strand of hair behind your ear as her big, brown eyes looked at you sympathetically. The gesture and the way she was speaking to you nearly approached being sisterly. At the idea of developing a supplemental sororal relationship with the technical analyst, you pulled away from her. You shook your head, “I’m not hiding,” you told her simply, leaving her with a half-truth as you stood up and began folding the blanket that had kept you warm overnight.

Nodding incredulously, she looked up at you, “If your Luddite boyfriend is blowing up my phone, then something has to be going on.” Her tone was urgent, but she stayed seated, giving you an advantage.

“Nothing’s wrong, Pen,” you reassured her, shaking your head and shrugging simultaneously.

Her face filled with doubt, glancing over at your cellphone as it buzzed on the coffee table, Spencer’s contact flashing on the touchscreen as you ignored the call. “Why didn’t you tell him you were staying with me last night?”

Pressing your lips in a thin white line, you briefly considered coming clean. You envisioned the truth coming out of you in puddles, everything you had been holding close to your chest for the last month pouring out like alphabet soup, but Penelope didn’t deserve that burden. “I just forgot,” you told her, watching the screen go dark.

Spencer was a worrier by the influence of his environment. Adamantly against getting a new phone, he couldn’t see your location at any given moment. His first course of action was usually calling your sister before resorting to Penelope, who not only has your location on her phone but also has access to your location in the bureau database. It wasn’t a fault of his, members of the BAU did have a tendency to disappear in the dead of the night.

She urged you to call him back as her phone started going off, her shoulders slumping forward, a tell-tale sign that the BAU was being pulled in on a case. If you were lucky, you would be able to slip through the cracks, claiming to put all of your focus into the case so that you didn’t need to have an in-depth conversation with your boyfriend. Or your sister, for that matter.

“Where are we headed?” You asked, rolling up your sleeves and crossing your arms in front of your stomach.

Penelope frowned at the tiny screen in front of her, “Baltimore,” she said hesitantly, “Uh, we gotta go. I’ll drive? You can call Spencer on the way,” she suggested before bolting into the bathroom.

You ended up avoiding the call to Spencer yet again, claiming you’d see him at the office anyway, and instead opening yourself up to a barrage of questions.

Was there cheating? Are you pregnant? Were you pregnant? Did he propose? Did you say no? Did you say yes?

The two of you parted as she went to prepare files and you waltzed into the bullpen, clocking the vase of flowers on your desk immediately. They, of course, weren’t just flowers, but a carefully calculated decision made to try and get into your good graces. This was the fifth vase that had been delivered in the last month.

First, there were honeysuckles, a symbol of devoted affection. Red carnations told you that his heart ached for you. A bouquet of daisies because he truly loved you. Last week, white lilies were left on your desk, a symbol of pure love.

Now, a bunch of apple blossoms sat on your desk, telling you that he preferred you before anyone else. How poignant.

Your eyes burned as you looked around the bullpen, hoping he was around so you could return the flowers to him, but the only people you saw were Emily and Rossi, sequestered in her office in the middle of what seemed to be a tense discussion. Choosing to ignore the flowers, you walked over to your desk, tucking your go-bag underneath and starting to power up your computer.

“Hey, Y/N?” Emily called from her office, “Can you head to the file room and pull everything from the Lynch case?” She didn’t even wait for an answer before closing the door again.

Concerned, you turned around and started making your way to the file room. If Everett Lynch was back, that would explain the worried look on Penelope’s face when the case came in. Even more, that would explain why Emily and Rossi were hidden in her office. Every member of the team wanted to see Lynch locked up for what he’s done, but for Dave it was personal.

Opening the file room, you pulled open the drawer of active cases from the past three months, starting to strip the drawer of anything even remotely related to Everett Lynch. The revelation that Grace was his daughter took everyone by surprise, but Spencer still felt responsible for Luke getting knifed. You should talk to him about it, you thought to yourself, if he didn’t talk about it, he’d just continue to internalize it.

“I need to talk to you,” a voice said suddenly from behind you, jolting you away from your train of thought. Spinning on your heel, you looked at Spencer.

Alarmed, you huffed, “You scared me,” you informed him, clutching the files close to your chest as you studied his stature. He looked fine, his hair was a bit of a mess, but he was wearing the red cardigan that you had gotten him for Christmas last year. You didn’t even want to begin to consider the implications of his outfit choice.

He furrowed his brows at you, “I scared you? You disappeared last night without a word, and I scared you?” There wasn’t even a hint of anger in his voice, instead, his words dripped in sweet melancholy, and you couldn’t look away from him.

You thought about your sister, snatched from the nation’s capital in the middle of the night as vengeance for her work with the CIA. Spencer and Penelope, both taken from what should have been a secure FBI building by a cult that bore a decade-long grudge against the BAU. You had frightened him, probably tripping his overactive mind into believing you were destined to meet a similar fate – dying in a warehouse somewhere. Blinking absently, you shook your head at him, “I’m sorry,” you told him, and you meant it.

“You’re punishing me,” he accused, crossing his arms in front of his chest before quickly dropping them, being hypervigilant about his body language.

Skimming your tongue over the backs of your teeth nervously, you hesitantly met his gaze. He seemed to be convinced that you were punishing him for the events that had taken place last month, but you were inclined to believe that you were punishing yourself, he was caught in your crossfire. “It’s not a punishment, Spence,” you whispered, watching how his brown eyes shone under the fluorescent lights.

His shoulders dropped, disappointment plain on his face, “I missed you at the baby shower,” he confessed.

“Sprinkle,” you corrected.

“Semantics,” he retorted, and it almost brought a smile to your face.

You looked down at the files in your arms, not even realizing that you had been white-knuckling the classified information, “I was there,” you disputed. “I saw you. I brought the gift and put both of our names on it. What more could I have done?”

Rolling his eyes, he gave you a tilted look, “Standing together in the group photo would’ve been nice.”

In response, you straightened up your back, “Ah, you were too busy standing with my sister,” you quipped, bringing the conversation back to the root of the conflict.

“Will you come home tonight? Stay with me?” Your heart clenched at his question.

Hesitantly, you nodded, “I’ll be there,” you assured him, securing the last of the files before sneaking around him, skillfully avoiding the remainder of your team as you made your way to the roundtable room.

“I’m worried about Dave,” you whispered, looking at the other end of the couch at your boyfriend, the two of you dressed in pajamas, your old Georgetown sweatshirt frayed at the cuffs, but it remained your favorite.

The orange print of his Caltech t-shirt was peeling up on the edges, sometimes, at night, you’d pick at the emblem – it drove Spencer crazy, especially when he woke up in a pile of picked vinyl. His mug was carefully resting in his hands as the two of you had a nighttime cup of tea, something you used to do when you had just started dating, and that you decided to try to bring back – chamomile for you, lavender for him. “I talked to him tonight,” he told you, turning to face you, “He’s.. he’ll be fine. He has Krystall.”

And I have you, you thought to yourself, lifting your mug to your lips and taking a sip. Sometimes you felt special for getting this side of Spencer, the ratty college t-shirt and flannel pajama pants that he wore while lounging on the worn leather couch.

“Do you want to go to sleep?” He asked when you didn’t respond, leaning forward and setting his mug on the coffee table.

Shaking your head, you followed suit, setting your mug on a coaster next to his before crawling closer to him on the couch, taking him by surprise. “Not yet,” you whispered, sitting down next to him, relieved when he responded by putting an arm around you. “I’m not mad at you,” you told him, “I just needed time.”

His arm was warm and familiar over your shoulders, having the same effect as a weighted blanket, calming you down with a simple touch. “To think,” he said, “you keep saying that. Are you… do you need more time?”

You closed your eyes, leaning into him, “I don’t think so, but I’m,” you faltered, frowning, “I’m having a hard time talking to my sister.” It wasn’t a secret that there had been some sort of falling out between the Jareau sisters, but the reasoning behind the rift remained a mystery to most people.

“I am too,” he admitted, skimming his fingertips up and down your arm. “I keep recalling everything that happened, and I don’t fully understand how everything got so messed up.

Raising your eyebrows, you remained in the crook of his arm, “People say a lot of things with a gun to their head.”

What you hadn’t considered was that following her admission, your sister would avoid Spencer. When you decided to avoid both of them, you had no idea what you were taking from him. “What would your truth have been?”

“I’m afraid that everything surrounding me is destined to fall apart,” you admitted. “I was brought into my family in an attempt to rescue my parents’ marriage, but it didn’t work.” Your sister slit her wrists open when you were only four years old, but somehow your father had put her death on your shoulders. JJ left home as soon as she could, leaving you at twelve years old with your grief-stricken mother, who had spent the last several decades waiting for the day her daughters would all be reunited.

Spencer was quiet for a while before responding to you, “We should go to bed.”

He was probably right, the team was expected to be in early tomorrow morning. After leaving well past dark, the last thing you wanted to think about was going back in before the sun had a chance to rise. “Wait,” you said, “What’s your truth?”

Briefly, his eyes flickered, looking down the length of your body, “My truth is that I’m tired, we should go to sleep,” he told you, herding you toward your shared bedroom.

“Same time tomorrow?” You asked, walking through the bedroom and into the ensuite, grabbing your toothbrush off the counter.

Nodding, he leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to your temple, “I’ll be there.”

Maybe you should’ve taken it as a sign that you were unphased by the revelation of a crazy doctor with a fetish for skinning people. The world had strange ways of telling you that you needed to take a step back, for every sign you had been given, you took a step forward. That was how you ended up in the backseat of an SUV with your sister at the wheel and Spencer in the passenger seat.

Everett Lynch had invaded the BAU’s territory, coming in like an infestation in the district, and he was trying to break his daughter Grace out of jail. You heard through the phone that they were scrambling tactics, using the walkie-talkies in the U.S. Attorney building to prevent their own capture.

The car came to a screeching halt, and the three of you piled out, “There’s no time,” your sister said, looking around, “We’ll cover this one,” she informed Spencer, looking back at you as you adjusted the strap of your Kevlar.

“I’ll take the garage on Piedmont and 10th,” Spencer responded dutifully, nodding at the both of you before turning around and running to the parking garage two blocks over.

You and your sister started to make your way into the larger of the two parking garages, both of you pulling your firearms and pointing them down, keeping yourselves aware of your surroundings. There was movement in front of you, two bodies moving toward a white van with federal plates – the Lynch’s. “Everett Lynch,” you called out, “Drop your weapon and put your hands up, now!”

The man in front of you – the so-called Chameleon – scoffed in disbelief, “Take it easy. There’s no reason to gun down a daddy in front of his little girl, right?” You kept your Glock aimed at him, watching intently as he carefully set his gun on the ground. Sirens started going off in your head, a premonition of things to come.

“Alright,” JJ shouted, “Kick it over. Grace, you too. Drop your backpack and let me see your hands. Come on, now!”

Putting her hands up, Grace let her backpack fall to the ground in a heap of fabric, you kept your gun trained on them as JJ lunged to the side, reaching over to pick up Everett’s gun from the ground. “Grace!” You shouted, watching the girl bring her hands down as she reached for something, “Put your hands back up!”

It was a split-second decision, but you watched as Grace lifted that gun in her hands, and you jumped. You knocked your sister over as three shots rang through the air, the first one grazed her arm. The next two lodged themselves in your side as the two of you fell to the ground, your body rolling along the ground as the father-daughter duo loaded themselves in the van before driving off.

JJ grabbed her weapon and shot after them, hoping to blow out one of their tires or at the very least slow them down, but with only one good arm, her aim was off. She scrambled to her feet, “Come on, Y/N,” she huffed, not checking behind her before running out of the parking garage.

You wanted nothing more than to follow her. Being angry wasn’t worth it anymore, you couldn’t freeze out your older sister anymore. You tried to breathe, you tried to call after her, but when you opened your mouth, the only thing that came out was blood.

For your entire life, you had followed her. When asked what you wanted to be when you grew up, you’d tell them you wanted to be like your big sister. You wanted to follow her, but you couldn’t move.

You followed her from East Allegheny to Washington D.C. You had followed her into this very parking garage. Now, all you could think about was following Roslyn, bleeding out on the cold hard floor, alone.

“Y/N, what’s your location?” Spencer’s voice rang through your radio.

You had never been shot before. You had always thought it would be cold to be shot, but instead, your whole body felt like it had been set on fire.

“Y/N, do you copy?”

The wetness of the blood should have made it cold.

“Y/N?”

Your fire was slowly fading, the blaze that had gone up so quickly began to ebb as you stopped feeling anything at all. The tapping of shoes echoed through the parking garage as you lay on the cement.

“No,” that all too familiar voice said, “Y/N is down, she’s been hit. We need an ambulance now,” Spencer called into the radio, he was out of breath as he looked down at you.

He studied your appearance, clocking the entry wounds on your side and moving his fingers in an attempt to staunch the bleeding. An odd, choked noise escaped your throat as the pressure on your side stoked the fire.

Spencer’s fingers trembled even as he maintained pressure on your side, “I know, I’m sorry, I know it hurts.” He took a deep breath, “here, turn- turn your head,” he instructed gently, using his free hand to coax your face to the side. You choked and came to the horrifying realization that he was trying to stop you from aspirating on your own blood. “Get it all out, baby,” he cajoled as blood spurted from your mouth, “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

That would have to be enough. It wasn’t enough for you to hope anymore. You had spent so long with the Anger and Resentment from your Pandora’s Box that you completely failed to notice how Hope had slipped through the cracks, lost in a sea of emotions.

“Do you hear that? That’s the ambulance,” he told you, an unspoken plea in his voice.

But you couldn’t hear the sirens, pretty soon, you couldn’t hear anything at all.

The EMTs had all kinds of things to say, none of them were even remotely comforting. The bullets had entered through the thin opening of your Kevlar, a sort of Achilles heel where you couldn’t be protected. He should have double-checked, he should have paused to adjust the straps before running to the other parking garage.

He watched the doctors shock you in the emergency room, looking on in horror as your heart stopped beating. “Are you her husband?” One of the nurses had asked.

Spencer’s mouth had gone completely dry, “I’m- almost,” he answered, earning a sympathetic look from the nurse as she proceeded to ask him questions about next of kin and extraordinary measures. One of the bullets had pierced your lungs, causing catastrophic bleeding.

The nurse guided him to a surgical waiting room, but no one came out to him with updates, leaving him to sit. Someone brought his go-bag by, letting him change into clothes that weren’t blood-soaked.

He sat in a pile of limbs on the hospital’s couch, picking at the crusted blood that he hadn’t quite managed to wash off, and he wondered if he could ask one of the nurses for a surgical scrub brush, wondering if that would get the last flecks of blood from the ridges of his fingernails.

“Spencer,” JJ called out, rushing through the hallway, Will trailing close behind her.

Her arm was wrapped with gauze, probably stitched up before someone told her what had happened to her little sister. “Hey,” Spencer said, standing up as they approached, wiping his clammy hands on his slacks.

JJ held her hands out, “What have you heard? Anything?”

“It’s gonna be a while,” he said, repeating the only words that he had been told. They had taken you to the OR an hour ago, and all they had to do was wait it out.

The clinical white walls of the hospital were enough to make Spencer stir crazy, when Will offered to get him a cup of coffee, he was almost aggressive in his rejection. The sunlight reflected off the drywall as your surgery continued to test his patience.

Eventually, your mother called JJ back, and your sister walked away in order to explain the situation under the guise of privacy, leaving Spencer alone. “Dr. Reid?” Someone said, maintaining the reverent tones of the hospital that were beginning to make him want to pull his hair out.

“Yes,” he said, standing up in front of the nurse.

The nurse gave him a gentle smile, and he braced himself for the worst. “Ms. Jareau is out of surgery,” she informed him.

You had been in there for nearly six hours. “She…” he faltered, “Can I see her?” He asked, looking past the nurse as if he could see all the way into your recovery room from where he stood.

Nodding, the nurse continued to smile at him, “I can take you to her now if you’d like. She’s still under sedation,” she advised, gesturing for Spencer to follow her through the winding hallways of the hospital.

“Is she going to be okay?” He asked, checking to make sure he had his phone in his pocket so he could text JJ if he needed to.

The nurse’s smile tightened, “We won’t be able to know if she’s sustained any neurological damage until she wakes up.”

He frowned slightly, bracing himself for an answer that he wouldn’t like, “Could she hear me if I talk to her?” He asked, stopping in his tracks as the nurse stopped outside of a room – your room.

“It’s unlikely,” the nurse answered.

That made sense to him, there weren’t any studies that could prove that people could hear external stimuli while comatose. At least, there wasn’t enough for the medical community to reach a consensus. “Thank you,” Spencer said, nodding at the nurse as she turned away, letting him know that the doctor would be by to talk to him soon.

Your skin was pallid, a sickly sheen covering your skin as tubes and wires worked together to monitor you and keep your body going. Spencer set your patient bag in the corner of the room before dragging a chair over to your bedside, cringing at the sound the chair made against the linoleum before taking a seat next to you.

The steady beeping of your heart monitor quickly became the only thing preventing him from falling apart entirely. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, keeping his voice down so that no one else would hear him. “I keep going over it in my head and I don’t know how I didn’t realize you were missing sooner,” he spoke to your silent body, chest rising and falling with even breaths. “I’m so sorry,” he echoed, “You should’ve… you should’ve been my priority. Before Grace. Before Lynch. Before any of it.”

He inhaled shakily, glancing over at your vital monitor, taking comfort in the consistency of the numbers, “I should’ve put you first and now I- I can’t take it back,” he said, eyes burning with emotion. “I know things between the two of us have been kind of weird lately… ever since the pawn shop, I mean. I just,” he paused for a moment, giving himself grace, “I don’t know what to do with it. I don’t know if she meant it and if she did, what does that mean? When you didn’t bring it up after the wedding I didn’t either because I just didn’t know how to talk to you about it.”

Somewhere along the way, the two of you had gotten lost. In the midst of not talking about the pawn shop, you had stopped talking altogether. “Now, all of a sudden, none of it even matters. All that matters is that I need you to wake up because I need to have more time with you,” he sniffled, the first hot tears rolling down his cheeks. “I can’t imagine my life without you in it,” he whispered.

“Please don’t leave me,” he begged, thinking of all of those nights the two of you had stayed up talking about the future. Your dream wedding. Your children’s names. He needed it. More of it. More of you.

Mindful of you, he laid his arms on the armrest of your hospital bed, lowering his head and watching the consistent rise and fall of your chest, listening to the whistling of your nostrils as he waited for the doctor to come.

The doctor seemed confident that you would wake up, it was just a question of when. He sent JJ, who had gone home to change into fresh clothing, an update once the doctor left.

Every once in a while, your nose would twitch or your finger would tap on the hospital bedding, and he would allow himself to get his hopes up. It never lasted long, once the fluke ended, he went back to thinking about the situation realistically. You were still having blood transfused, there was a tube in your chest depositing fluids into a bag at your bedside, and even if you did wake up, there was a long road to recovery with an injury like this.

He was terrified that you’d wake up alone and in excruciating pain, so he refused to move, having any paperwork brought directly to him in your room. Nearly every fifteen minutes, he smoothed out the blanket that rested on top of you, careful when putting his hands near your body, even though you couldn’t tell whether or not your blanket was wrinkled. Spencer thought of it as tucking you in, keeping you safe, but he couldn’t help but wonder if it was too little too late.

You didn’t make it to the beach as often as you’d like. Spencer hated the beach, and you weren’t interested in swimming in the ocean so much as you wanted to go and people-watch. Families on vacation. Marriage proposals.

The first time you had ever gone to the ocean, you were three years old. JJ and Roslyn hadn’t been in years, but it was all new to you. JJ wanted to bring you to the water, and Roslyn hadn’t even wanted to go on the trip. The water hadn’t scared you then, the endless abyss of blue had seemed more inviting than anything you had ever seen before.

Now, you lay on the sand, all of it cold beneath your skin, the rest of the beach seemingly abandoned. Try as you might, you couldn’t move anything. You wanted to lift your arm to brush hair out of your face. You wanted to sit up. You wanted to go home.

You couldn’t even see the water from where you lay, you opened your mouth, hoping to call for help, but were surprised when the only thing that came out of your mouth was a dark, black sludge. It spurted from your mouth as it ran down your cheeks, staining the white sand of the beach beneath you. You were drowning on dry land, and there was nothing you could do.

Nothing but open your eyes.

The ominous white sky of the beach turned into white walls, as you fluttered your eyes open, the ocean made way for you, parting so that you could return to yourself. Laid in a hospital bed, trying to remember how to breathe, and meeting Spencer’s stare.

“Hi love,” he whispered, gently placing one hand on top of yours, drawing circles on the back of your hand with the pad of his thumb, careful not to knock your pulse oximeter off.

Your brows pinched together as you looked over at him, he looked tired, waiting for you to say something. Your chest felt tight as you looked at him, hundreds of thoughts bubbling to the surface, but only one bubble popped, “I had a nightmare.”

Spencer nodded slowly, messy curls falling over his forehead, “It’s okay, angel. You’re awake now. It can’t hurt you.”

It can’t hurt you. It can’t hurt you. It can’t hurt you.

You watched as Spencer reached over and pushed the call button on your bed. Each moment you spent awake became increasingly painful, signified by the slow rise of your heart rate, the pain only exacerbated when your breathing quickened. Alarm grew, “Shh, hey,” Spencer consoled you, reaching his hand out and smoothing your hair back, looking to the door and hoping someone would come in and help you.

They did, pushing pain medications through your IV and watching your heart rate stabilize before giving you something to help you calm down. Spencer probably knew what they all were, making mental notes to keep track of everything as he kept his hand in yours. Your pain level dwindled from a nine to a six, leveling out in the middle ground.

You settled back into the pillows, cringing as a nurse moved your bed so that you were sitting up slightly, nodding softly at the things that she told you about rest. She checked your vitals, before leaving the two of you alone, silence swirling around the two of you as you constructed a bubble to keep yourselves warm.

“I should’ve found you sooner,” he whispered, looking over at you, a distressed look in his eyes.

Moving at a turtle’s pace, you shook your head, “You saved my life.”

It’s okay. I’ve got you, he had told you in the parking garage, and he did. He still had you, even now. If they had let him, Spencer might’ve waited for you outside the operating room, just to be in the vicinity of you.

“Don’t go anywhere,” you murmured, eyes opening and closing slowly. Your eyelids felt sticky like there was still tape residue on them from your operation, but you didn’t dare move. You didn’t dare agitate any wound on your body. “Is JJ okay?” You asked, your voice tight. Checking in on your sister took all of your strength.

Spencer kept his hand in yours, moving his free hand to wipe at tears that had spilled over your lower lashline. “She’s fine, just a graze,” he reassured you, “I’ll call her when you go back to sleep.”

You swallowed thickly, wondering if you were allowed to have any water, “I missed you,” you breathed, fighting to keep your eyes open. “I wanna talk to you,” you sniffled.

“You should sleep, my sweet girl,” he answered, not wanting you to get into a hefty conversation in your condition. “We have all the time in the world to talk when you wake up.”

Except you didn’t. You had thought there was time for you to be angry, but then you had been shot. As much as you hated the idea of being someone who had a near-death experience and suddenly let bygones be bygones, alienating those close to you seemed exhausting. You took a deep breath, thankful for the nasal cannula on your face, “I’ve been so distant,” you admitted.

Spencer hesitated, not sure if you needed to get into this while so vulnerable, “I don’t know if she meant it,” he breathed.

“I don’t need to know,” you told him, surprising yourself as much as him with your admission. “JJ is… She’s one of the most important people in my life, but so are you. Maybe even more so.”

He frowned, “You can’t possibly mean that.”

You closed your eyes for a few seconds before opening them again, “JJ’s my sister, we share the same family, but I chose you, Spence. I will continue to do so,” you told him, deciding against adding until the day that I die. Watching him as he looked at you with tear-filled eyes, “Oh,” you sighed, “please don’t cry. I never meant to hurt you.”

Waving off your concern, he wiped at his eyes before taking one of your hands in both of his, “I love you so much, but I don’t want you to forget your anger.”

“Huh?” You hummed groggily.

“You’ve been mad for months,” he whispered, the strokes of his thumb on the back of your hand putting you to sleep. “It doesn’t need to fade away in the blink of an eye.”

You let your eyes slip shut once again, “I’ll still give you a hard time.”

He laughed slightly at that, “Good.”

“Spence?” You breathed.

“Yeah, baby?”

Humming, you settled back into the bed, “I don’t think I’ll be able to make our tea date tonight.”

When you woke up again, a familiar blonde was sitting at the foot of your bed, hunched in a plastic hospital chair while Spencer remained at your bedside, hands still intertwined, but sweaty now. “Jennifer,” he said, getting the attention of your sister.

She jumped up from the chair and sat on the edge of your bed, in your periphery, you saw Spencer retreat, ambling into the hallway to talk to Emily. Letting him go, you turned your attention to your sister, “Hey, Jayg,” you greeted, words coming easier now than they did before, the swelling of your throat had gone down.

Her finely chiseled eyebrows pinched together on her face, “I thought you were right behind me,” she admitted miserably, looking at your torso.

“It’s alright now, though,” you tried to reassure her. You had lost half of your blood volume, much of it on the parking garage floor, but you were here now, that had to mean something.

She shook her head in abject self-disappointment, “I should have protected you,” she insisted, scrunching up her nose as she fought back tears.

You were too tired to fight emotions, water falling from your tear ducts as the two of you tried to mend what had previously been torn apart. “You don’t need to protect me,” you insisted. The decision to take the hit had been entirely your own, driven by a need to protect her.

“I always have though,” she reminded you, “When Roz died, dad left, and mom checked out, I took care of you.”

When you were a child, you thought that having your pre-teen sister do everything for you was the way things worked. It didn’t last long, things unraveled from there, but you always had JJ. “I’m all grown up now,” you reminded her. You didn’t need her protection in your early thirties in the same way you needed them as a child.

JJ took a shaky breath, cupping your cheek with her hand affectionately, the way a mother would to their child, “You’re always going to be my little sister.”

You looked at her, seven years your senior, and you sighed, “Do you know why I did it?” You asked her, studying the sad look in her eyes.

She smoothed your hair back, grabbed a cup of water from your bedside, and brought the straw to your lips, “Why, Ducky?”

The childhood nickname chimed in your ears, one of the only things that you retained from your eldest sister. You smiled at her, “Your boys.” The answer came easily to you, “You have Will and your tiny people, and I just thought… I couldn’t let you leave them.”

“But I almost lost you,” she countered, it wasn’t aggressive, it was almost like she was trying to make you see the value in your own life. The people in your life didn’t make you valuable, you had value as an individual.

Shrugging, you looked at her sympathetically, “Nope,” you said, popping the ‘p’, “You’re stuck with me.”

She gave you a sisterly, knowing look, “Your heart stopped. Twice.”

You concurred, “Yeah, because you’re just that stuck with me.” You insisted, watching as Spencer answered a phone call in the hallway. “Did you call them?” You asked her, giving her a quick glance as you craned your neck to keep an eye on your boyfriend.

“Mom’s on a flight in tomorrow morning, but dad hasn’t responded to my voicemail,” she informed you, she didn’t look surprised, and you didn’t feel it.

Where your father was concerned, some things were better left unsaid, but you wouldn’t necessarily mind if he never responded to your sister’s calls. There was no reason to drag him and his new wife from their cushy life in Florida. Spencer reentered the room as JJ’s phone started ringing – Will – and the two of them traded off, amicably splitting time with you.

Greeting him with a content smile on your face, he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your hairline, “I have to go,” he told you reluctantly.

You tried not to let any disappointment show on your face, “Why? What’s wrong?” You asked, studying his face for any sign of what his phone call had been about.

“That was Brookfield on the phone,” Spencer said, checking all of the monitors that surrounded you.

The grim look on his face made sense to you. Moving his mother into Brookfield had been the right choice for everyone, but her condition was never going to get better. Last time he had gone to visit, Diana hadn’t even recognized him, and you spent the rest of the day holding him, letting him know it was alright. “You have to go,” you echoed his earlier sentiment, nodding reassuringly.

He hesitated to leave you, sitting on the edge of your bed that had been previously occupied by your sister, “But you- you’re…”

You shook your head in dismissal, “Sometimes everything happens all at once, but you have to go.” If Brookfield was telling him to get down there, then he needed to go.

The next several hours passed slowly, Emily gave you an update on the case – the reader’s digest version, avoiding any gnarly details in an attempt to protect you. Will brought you and JJ dinner, eating the meal with them and your nephews, you were grateful to not have to eat the hospital cafeteria food. Slowly, the day came to an end, you sent JJ home when visiting hours ended, letting her know that you didn’t need to be protected while you were in a hospital.

You fell asleep not long after one of your nurses lowered the volume on your vital monitor, the dark peace of the hospital lulling you into a sense of safety. There hadn’t been word from Spencer, and you worried about him and his mother.

A tapping sound dragged you from what was thankfully a dreamless sleep, you recognized the sound of the footsteps, those shoes made a similar sound on the hardwood floor of your apartment, “You’re noisy when you wear your fancy shoes,” you mumbled drowsily, opening your tired eyes and tilting your head in the direction of the sound.

“Hey,” Spencer whispered, “Go back to sleep,” he told you gently, slowly making his way around your hospital bed and to the fold-out chair next to your bed.

You hummed, following him with your eyes as they adjusted in the dark, “No, you woke me up. Now you have to talk to me,” you told him, reaching over to switch on a lamp, cringing at the way the light burned your eyes.

Unprompted, he inspected your vital monitor before reaching out to adjust your nasal cannula, “Where’s JJ?” He asked, cupping your cheek affectionately before taking his seat.

Reaching out for your cup of water, you smiled to yourself when Spencer moved it closer to you, “I made her go home. Our mom will be here in the morning, and she’ll need all the rest she can get.” There was also the fact that Michael had been freaked out by seeing you in a hospital, so he needed some extra love from his parents tonight. “Wait,” you said, “How did you get in here? Visiting hours are over.”

“I might have told a small lie about you needing security,” he admitted sheepishly, but beneath it, he was smug. You didn’t fault him on it, you probably wanted him here just as much as he wanted to be here, if not more.

Smiling in the dim lamplight, you inclined your head toward him, “Did you misrepresent the bureau?”

He rolled his eyes, “I’d do it again if it meant I get to spend the night with you.” Helping you put your water cup back on your tray, Spencer took your hand in his, “How are you doing?”

You were exhausted, not in the sense that you wanted to sleep, although that probably couldn’t hurt, but in the sense that your entire body ached. There was a pinch in your side that wouldn’t ease up, and you didn’t feel comfortable with asking for more pain medication. Part of you was afraid that in the process of being shot, you developed a fear of drowning. You almost died today. Huge strides had been made in an attempt to repair your relationship with Spencer and with your sister. None of these thoughts escaped your lips, you just looked at him sympathetically, “How’s your mom?”

All he gave you was a tight smile, squeezing your hand tightly, “She’s ah… she’s alright,” he told you, your chest tightening at the emotion in his voice. “They’re calling it an awakening,” he continued, sounding unsure of himself.

“Terminal lucidity,” you breathed, a term you had only read about briefly when Diana was first diagnosed. The two of you had made many cross-country calls, trading information while Spencer stayed with her in Las Vegas.

He nodded, “Yeah… they don’t know how long it…”

How long she had left. How long she would remain lucid. “Are you okay?”

“No,” he answered quickly, too quickly for your liking.

You wiggled your fingers in his hand, getting his attention, “I want you to go back tomorrow,” you ordered him. It wasn’t something you were willing to budge on, insisting that he go back to Brookfield tomorrow to spend more time with his mother.

“She asked about you,” he admitted, leaning back in the chair, keeping your hands intertwined, “She wondered why we never got married. I told her it was never the right time. Do you know what she said to that?”

Watching intently as he shared the story with you, you shook your head, “What did she say?”

He chuckled lightly, “She said that might’ve been the most ridiculous thing she’s ever heard me say.”

You smiled as he recounted the story for you, mimicking the hand gestures that you were sure his mother had used. “Obviously she’s never seen your Dirty Harry impression,” you reminded him, trying not to giggle at the memory.

“The right time will never come if we keep waiting around for it,” he told you, reciting the words of wisdom that his mother had imparted upon him.

Your breathing hitched in the dark of the night, “Spence?”

He nodded, “Yeah, baby?”

“Are you going to ask me to marry you?” You asked him hesitantly, wondering if that was what he was getting at.

Spencer shook his head, “Not tonight, angel.” He looked around the hospital room, cards and balloons and flowers had made their way in through the afternoon and evening. Penelope had even brought your apple blossoms from your desk. His flower language seemed so inconsequential now. “Go to sleep,” he whispered, “I’m sorry for waking you.”

“Will you tell me a story?” You whispered, settling yourself back into the flat hospital pillows, resigning yourself to the end of the marriage conversation.

He hummed, dimming the lamplight, “Which one?” There were a few stories that he had memorized specifically for you. When work or life or nightmares got to be too much, he would recall them for you.

“Can we do Portrait of a Lady again?” You raised your eyebrows, smiling impishly.

He rolled his eyes sardonically, “Your love for Henry James should be studied in a lab.”

You waved him off, “Okay, and? It’s story time.”

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cowboy1ikereid · 12 days ago

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pov - you’re a member of the fbi’s behavioural analysis unit

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dalamjisung · 3 months ago

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A muted shade of green ✧ Chapter 2: He's not yours to keep

genre: more angst than fluff, but I swear fluff is coming up next!

word count: 5562

pairing: reader x spencer reid

description: you are trying to make sense of all this mess, but it's time to learn that, sometimes, things are just messy and chaotic and you have to learn to look for the silver linings.

a muted shade of green masterlist

previous chapter // next chapter

author's note: I am absolutely over the moon with the response I've gotten on this series and I'm really thankful for all the love and support <3 if you want to join the taglist for this series, please let me know in the comments!

You don’t usually dream.

Well, actually, if you tell Spencer that, he will say that you’re wrong– you do dream, you just don’t remember it. It’s common, not really recalling the scenes your brain conjure, Spencer would say; it can be due to a series of factors including high levels of stress and poor sleep. He would then tell you to stay home for a day, read a good book, and drink one of his fancy teas Penelope got for him a long time ago.

But the thing is, Spencer can’t really tell you any of it.

Not when you seem to be avoiding him even inside his own home.

It starts after you wake up still in his armchair, feeling exhausted and disgustingly sticky, you finally have a couple of moments to yourself. Spencer is still sleeping, and you’re actually surprised to see him stretched out on the couch– his tie is throw on his coffee table, the purple colour suddenly too bright in the dim apartment, but otherwise, still wearing the same clothes he had on yesterday. You don’t understand why he didn’t change into pyjamas, but then again, you don’t understand much of anything right now.

So you go through the facts.

One by one, you list them in your mind– and little by little it dawns on you just how bad this really is. It’s hard, conceptualising that this is reality; that you really do have a psychopath targeting you. It’s the kind of thing that you only saw in those TV shows you loved to binge on late night, the kind of thing you read on the newspaper, happening to other people, but never really you. Except, it is happening to you, and you are not sure what to do next. Do you just sit and wait for her to make a move? Do you continue to live your life normally? How? How are you supposed to ignore the fact that a, as Agent Hotchner had described her, ‘prolific serial killer’ might know who are?

“Oh my god,” You whisper to yourself, head falling in your hands. The watch on your wrist, an old, analogue thing your mom had given you before you left New York, is pointing to a time you would never have been awake before. 5:23 in the morning. The sun is not even up yet and you have hours before you have to open the store, but then again, you have to clean the mess that was left behind due to your rushed departure from it. You wince, disgusted at the thought of having to clean old vomit from the floor, and disgusted with the bitter taste it left behind. Right now, you are a shell of a human being and you need to get yourself back together.

You follow a familiar routine of recovery. It’s something you’ve done before and something you will surely have to do again, and it all starts with a simple list.

Firstly, you need to get up. You need to stretch your legs, throw them to the side, and stand. You need to walk, remind your self that you can still make your own path even if it’s only to the bathroom down the hall.

Then, you need to brush your teeth. The bitter taste stuck to your mouth makes you wince with memories that you want to bury.

Showering would be your third step, but this is not your home. This is not your space, and these are not your things.

A pettier side of you, one that is bothered and angry and irritated in a superficial level, wants to march back out to the living room, as loudly as you can, and shake Spencer away. You want to wake him up at the crack of dawn and make him share your torment, because in some level, even if you try to push against it, you blame him. Deep inside, you know that there is a big difference between the two– between blaming him and it being his fault. One is purposeful, conscious; it’s a decision you take and lay on his head. If you blame him, you commit yourself to hate him. The latter, however, is a fact. It’s irrefutable and immutable as the fact that you need air to live. It is his fault, but it was not his goal.

“He didn’t mean it, but it’s still his fault,” You whisper to yourself, pushing yourself off the sink to try and figure out his shower. It is his house, that’s a fact. But you also deserve a nice, warm shower, and that is another fact. He pushed you to come stay with him, so you need to also push yourself to feel comfortable in this space that feels so foreign to your senses. “He didn’t mean it, but it’s still his fault.”

The words become your mantra. He didn’t mean it, but it’s still his fault. Somewhere in you, you know you have what it takes to forgive, but you just don’t have what it’s needed to forget. By repeating those words, you allow your brain to slowly process this situation as what it is– something that happened because of him, but not by him. As much as you want someone to blame, someone to scream at, Spencer Reid just isn’t that person.

It takes you a moment to realise you don’t really have a towel or any of your products here, and using Spencer’s shampoo just feels… odd. Like an invasion of his space almost. “Oh thank god for you, Spencer,” You sighed, happy to see the pairing of shampoo and conditioner sitting perfectly on the corner. His hair had been one of the first things you noticed about him, all chestnut and shaggy and longish, but you are aware that not every man knows the basic of self-care. There is something about the way his smell takes over the bathroom, floating with the evaporation of the warm water hitting your skin, makes you smile. You feel closer to Spencer than you’ve ever been, and that is when your sense of danger hits. Your heart starts speeding, and your breathing is suddenly really shallow, and you’re trying to come out of the shower, to breathe in cold air, but all you get is humid mist and you can’t breathe, you can’t breathe at all, you can’t–

“Spencer!” You gasp, eyes wide in desperation once your legs feel like they might just give out. Scrambling to hold yourself up, your hands knock over some things in the counter, making more noise on top of the running shower. “SPENCER!”

“What? What? What– oh my god,” The door slams against the wall and back, almost hitting him on the side when he crouched down next to your naked, curled up body. It’s quite unnatural for you to witness, him jumping into action so fast, like he is trained to make these decisions in a split second. But then you remember that he actually is trained to make these quick choices– like grabbing the towel before anything else, covering you without a single quip about your nakedness; like sitting you up and putting your back against the wall; like turning off the shower and sitting back down right next to you, breathing deeply and loudly. It’s unconscious, how you let your breathing fall in line with his, and it takes a moment to realise he’s doing this on purpose. “Y/N, are you okay?”

“No,” You whisper, shaking from either the cold or the nerves or both. There are goosebumps all over your legs, the towel not covering you much from the top of your thighs down. “Spencer, I’m not okay. I’m… Until yesterday, you were just the adorable guy who shared my love for books. Y-You’d come into the store smiling and we’d talk and talk and– and now I have a serial killer possibly tracking me. How am I supposed to be okay? I’m so scared… oh god, I’m so scared, Spencer…” The one thing you are proud, amidst your utter embarrassment, is that you are not crying anymore. You still sound a bit rough, throat tired and hurting, and there is no energy left in you and he can hear that, you know he can, because when your voice echoes in the silent bathroom, kicking from wall to wall, you hear it too– the exhaustion and the numbness and the emptiness left behind.

“I-I’m still that guy,” He stutters, head falling down in shame but voice still twinged with something resembling hope. “I love books. I love talking to you about books, I love going to your store first thing in the morning. I’m still this guy, I just… I just happen to work for the FBI.”

“Yeah, but I… I think that after having my life turned upside down because of a serial killer who has a crush on you, I’m just not that same girl.”

That is the last time you talk to him that day.

—————————————

Actually, that was the last time you talked to him that entire week.

After he dropped you at the store that day and you were forced to face the embarrassing remnants of your lowest moment in life, moping old vomit from the floor, that feeling of turmoil in your chest died down. It settled. And it hardened.

He tried making conversation on the walk back to his, but you’re clearly not up for it, so his voice slowed down, getting lower and lower, until it stopped altogether. This time, you shower before bed and make a beeline to the armchair again, letting Spencer’s begs and pleas for you to sleep on the bed fall in deft ears.

For five days, you two don’t talk.

It’s a dance of chaos, how you step around each other at the apartment, and seeing him biting his words back or catching a glimpse of the bags under his eyes makes you feel guilty; of course it does. But you know that you can’t help him right now. Even if you were to forgive him, to force your mercy onto the situation, it wouldn’t be genuine. It would give him a false sense of relief while you’d forever be uncomfortable next to him, and you don’t want that. You don’t want to feel on edge next to Spencer, you don’t want to feel nauseous and scared when you’re with him. You want to talk about books and coffee and favourite places to order take out from. Instead, all you get to do is talk about her.

It would be a lie to say you don’t feel slightly jealous with the way that his mind seems to be so wrapped around Cat Adams. The imposed talking ban is hard on you both, that much you know, but the more Spencer let it happen, the more he let it stretch out and continue, the more you feel like maybe he doesn’t care that much. Maybe what is hard for him is the awkward tension trapped in his own apartment, rather than the pain of seeing each other so close yet not being able to laugh like you used to. And you know– you know how ridiculous your thought are, how childish you’re acting, but you can’t really blame yourself for being so on edge lately, not when your emotions are so zip and zapping through your body like thunder and lightening.

There are exceptions, though. In this case three exceptions, three moments in a day in which he brakes the ban, and you, for once, allow yourself some weakness.

“Good morning,” Is moment one. He says that every day, when he blinks himself awake on the couch. Ever since you’ve been there, a total of six days now, Spencer has slept on the couch, right next to the armchair you’ve claimed as your own. For these, you meet his eyes and nod, as if saying same to you.

Breakfast is quiet. He makes coffee and you make eggs, because despite you being there under forced circumstances, you are not going to be ungrateful and so you pay him back by getting groceries and cooking most meals. Which leads you to exception number two– the moment when he drops you at the bookstore.

You two walk there at 8 and he’s gone by 8:07, giving you enough time to mumble a “Be safe,” and give him his lunch for the day. He tried telling you that you didn’t have to cook for him, but you don’t really listen. As pathetic as it seems, this is the one way you’ve found to keep what you two had before, alive.

The third exception is the one that truly breaks your heart, again and again. It’s when he gets home, and he looks exhausted, and his hands fidget with the files he holds close to his chest. You are the first thing he looks for, and you almost melt at the way his shoulders visibly relax when he spots you– always ready for bed, always in the armchair. He stopped trying to come get you at the bookstore at night once you’ve agreed to let the officers walk you home. The spare key he added to your keychain should hold a bigger meaning than it does, though it feels like it does hold a bigger weight. A means to an end, you tell yourself every time you unlock his front door. This is just a means to an end. “Thank you,” he will then say, before he even moves to the kitchen to see whatever it was on the plate you had made and set in the microwave for him. “And good night.” By then, you’re already semi-asleep and you don’t really say anything.

You never thought you would miss these forbidden exceptions when they’re gone.

You know that travel is a big part of Spencer’s job, but with all that is going on, you never really considered the fact that he might need to leave for a few days. At least not until he calls you, right before you lock the store. The irregularity of it all has you scrambling to pick it up. “Spencer?” You barely whisper, voice cracking in half as little by little, you freeze up. The sensation is like ice running through your veins, burning it’s way to your heart until it makes it stop. “Spencer? Are you okay?”

“I’m okay,” He quickly answers, voice rushed in a way that makes you relax. He always talks fast and you find it incredibly endearing, even during these times apart. “I’m okay, it’s okay. I’m calling because we got a case.”

“Uh, okay?”

“Y/N, that means they need us in Ohio. Today.” He seems almost hesitant to tell you he needs to leave the state.

And you are as hesitant to accept it. “Oh,” You mumble, suddenly needing to making sure the officer assigned to you is still outside and ready to go. “Okay. Do… Do you need clothes or something?”

Spencer’s chuckle almost makes it all okay. Almost. “No, thank you. I just– I want you to be comfortable, okay? Feel free to sleep in my bed and do anything you want to do, I don’t mind! Feel at home! Just… be comfortable.”

For a second you nod, forgetting he can’t see you right now. “Okay. Thank you.”

“And Y/N?”

“Yeah?” You started biting your nails when you were twelve and middle school was kicking your ass. To this day, right now, you still bite them when you’re nervous.

“It’s good hearing your voice.”

Going home and knowing he won’t be there is not as comforting as you thought it could be. The two of you are not speaking and the constant walking on egg shells does get tiring, so you try to rationalise this as something that is just not that bad. Maybe Spencer going on his mysterious trips is not that bad anymore. Before, your curiosity was your downfall– you worried he had gotten sick or worse. However, you don’t think knowing the truth is much better. The nature of his job is incredibly dangerous, and you don’t even know much about it. Now, you still worry, that much hasn’t changed. What has changed, though, is that getting sick would be considered lucky. Right now, you worried about the ‘or worse’.

Your mom’s voice fills the empty space for a while. She texted you a couple of days ago and you just now got around to calling. “Sweetheart, how do we switch to video again? I want to see your face.” Alarm bells sound off in your mind and you immediately shut down the idea. “Sorry mom, I can’t right now. I’ll video call you tomorrow, okay? I’m cooking dinner right now.” Her worry is that of a mother, comforting like a blanket and familiar like a home. It is not, though, the worry you want.

For obvious reasons, you don’t tell her what’s going on, much rather preferring to tell her about the mundane things that keep you going. “And I sold out of the book!” You say, a short-lived excitement running through you. “It’s quite exciting, mom– since I opened the shop I have never sold out of anything! This is a first!”

“That’s amazing, sweetie!” She says, and you can’t help but wonder how Spencer would’ve reacted to the news if he was there. It’s only then that you realise you’re halfway through making him a plate for when he comes home, except he won’t be back until the case is complete and you gulp, too aware of the common noises you hear around you.

This is when you realise how much you miss you Spencer. And how much, even if unconsciously, he makes you feel comfortable and safe. You thought it was the apartment, but now, by yourself, laying on the armchair yet again, you feel vulnerable and exposed. Footsteps can be heard from time to time, neighbours getting home or leaving for the night, and every time, without a fault, you hold your breath and wait. Maybe the door will open and she will be there, or maybe it will be another delivery. God, it could be anything– a letter, flowers, another box. Knowing that Cat Adams had such easy access to Spencer’s apartment is enough to get you up and running to his room.

Green. The walls are green, muted and cozy, and you smile even when your eyes sting with tears. There is a hole in your heart right now and it’s Spencer shaped. “God,” You groan, rubbing your tears clean so aggressively that it hurts. “When did things get so fucked up?”

There’s no real answer to that, and you if you think any longer about this, your brain might just implode. For now, all you need is to sleep, but that won’t happen for a while; not with the way your heart speeds up at every crackle coming from his old, metal heather. Still, the chill air of Autumn seeps in through the walls, and you shiver. I want you to be comfortable, Spencer had said before leaving, and you might be crossing some boundaries right now, but you need him close to feel comfortable. You might not be able to get him, but the next best thing you have right now is one of his sweaters, and you have no qualms about opening his wardrobe and grabbing the first thing you find. Ironically enough, it’s an FBI Academy hoodie, though you can’t really imagine Spencer and all his formal glory in a hoodie. You put it on, nonetheless, shutting the door with your foot and just as you turn around, your eyes catch sight of something. Something big, and beige, and bone chilling.

The box.

In the heat of the moment, you simply thought he had throw it away. Hell, it would’ve made sense to throw it away! What the fuck was that box doing there…? With a shaky breath, you open the wardrobe door again, hoping, praying, that you were actually hallucinating and that what you saw was nothing but a shoe box or a bag. “God, please, be a bag, be a bag…” Safe to say, your words are in vain. “Fuck, Spencer, what is wrong with you?”

You’re shaking when you pull the box out of its hiding place, breathing shallow and fast. Reason escapes you as you quickly open it, not worried about how it was or even about putting it back in place; if it was up to you, this box would’ve been gone a long time ago. Clearly, it had not been up to you. “Oh my god, I’m going to be sick.”

Expectations are a tricky thing to deal with. When it comes to your life, you never expected anything big. You know your limitation better than anyone and the largest you’ve dreamt before was the store. You didn’t expect an FBI agent. You didn’t expect a serial killer. And you certainly didn’t expect a box full of sex toys. “What the…” You don’t want to touch them, not with your bare hands, but it looks like there are tens of toys in there, varying in shapes and sizes and colours. It makes you wonder… last he told you, her games are psychological and manipulative. From what you are seeing, though, this is incredibly physical. This is about touch and intimacy and… fuck. This is about connection. You don’t have to be a profiler to know that, not when you are so secretive about your own toys, hidden in the back of your besides drawer away from unwanted eyes. It’s a private thing, and only people you trusted, people you let into your life, knew about them.

Before you know what you’re doing, you rush to find your phone. It’s somewhere in the house, and you need to find it, you need to call him. “Pick up,” You whisper when you finally find it in the living room, under your favourite blanket on the chair. Even your fingers are shaking, vision a bit blurred from the adrenaline rushing through you– you feel like you’re in danger, and you don’t know what to do. “Spence, pick up, pick up, please pick up–“

“Hello?” You almost cry when you hear his raspy voice on the other side. It doesn’t make you feel any better to think that you might just have woken him up.

“Spencer,” You whine, embarrass with how needy you sound. The nice officer that brought you home is standing outside the door, and you could’ve gone to him– could’ve opened the door, asked him to stay inside, talk to him a little. Or you could’ve called Penelope. She had given you her number with promises that more often then not, she stayed behind to work from the BAU office. There is no place safer than my office, she had promised you, but how do you tell her that the problem is not your environment, it’s not where you are or what you’re doing… how do you tell her that the problem is you? She might not understand it so you don’t even dare try to explain it. You don’t dare to give her and the team this part of yourself too and you shut your mouth with a firm hand over your lips.

Memories of a life you left behind flash behind your eyes, and you whimper, hugging your knees to your chest while you hear him desperately calling for you. As far as you can, you kick that godforsaken box away from you. “Y/N?! Y/N, say something, please! Are you okay? Y/N!”

“I’m here,” You whisper, pushing your hair away from your face. “I’m here.’

“What’s going on?”

“Spencer, I–” A moment of regret and hesitation makes you pause. What can he even do all the way from Ohio? “I want to go home.”

You’re not his priority.

You’ll never be his priority.

There is no point to this.

“…did something happen?” This is the Spencer you know– voice soft and guarded– and for a second it feels like you two are getting to know each other all over again. “Did officer Kaper make you uncomfortable? I’ll ask for a change of guard, I’ll–“

“N-No,” You cut him off with a shaky exhale. Your head falls on your free hand, finger tangled with your messy hair, and you tug on it. Sharply, the tingly pain on your scalp grounds you for a second, brings you back to this situation you created. “No, Spence, no no no, I just want to go home, I need to go home, I–“

“Y/N, breathe,” He coaches you as gently as he can, voice stable and strong, everything you seem to be lacking. “You’re going to set yourself off in a panic again if you don’t breathe. You’re safe in my apartment, okay? I know it’s not the same as being home, I know, but you’re safe there!”

“You’re not here, Spence!”

There is a moment of silence for both of you. “You’re not here and you didn’t throw that fucking box away,” You whisper, keeping the moment something in between just the two of you. It’s enough that you are falling apart like this in front of Spencer, you don’t need officer Kaper bursting in the door to witness this too.

“You found the box,” He sighs. This is the first time you notice just how tired he sounds.

“I found the box,” You confirm, sniffling in a stubborn attempt to not start crying all over again.

“It’s evidence. I can’t throw it away, Y/N.”

“Why is it here?”

“I’ve been working on the case on my free time and it just made sense to keep it at home…”

“Spence, I want to go home. I don’t feel safe,” You admit, shaking your head. “I don’t feel safe here when you’re not here, Spence, I want to go home.”

“I thought you hated me.”

“Spencer…” He has a point, though, and you know it. This is the first time you two speak in days, the first time you experience this type of comfort again, but it’s still not enough. He’s still not here, next to you, watching over you. He’s still not with you. “Spencer, I’m sorry.”

“Silly girl, why are you apologising?” He asks, chuckling on the other side and you can picture him– you can see him shaking his head, hair falling around his pretty face like a perfect picture frame when his eyes, pure honey with specks of green, search for yours. Yeah… you can imagine it to perfection, almost like you are the one with eidetic memory. “This is all my fault. And I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you, Y/N and I’m trying to protect you, so I need you to stay there, okay? I need you to stay in my apartment, please.”

You don’t know what to tell him. Your eyes wander around the room, looking at all the details he left behind without even noticing. There is a copy of Dostoevsky on the bed side table. I hate Russian literature, you remember telling him once. He was in the shop, bringing you coffee, when you caught a glimpse of a book you certainly didn’t sell him. And I’m appalled you’ve been buying books somewhere else. The way he laughed then, like his biggest problem in the world was explaining to you that this had been a gift from a friend and that he would never betray your trust like this. What do you hate so much about it?, he had asked, leaning over the counter and into you, eager to debate this topic he loved so much. I hate that it’s all about suffering. Even the moments of realisation and self-improvement, they are all through suffering and misery. And of course he had a retort to that, fingers twitching with his enthusiasm. But it’s contextual, you see! Those were written in time of civil unrest and political chaos, and it makes sense to have characters and plot lines that revolve around suffering when that is all you know from the world around you. To this day, your answer paralyses you. I’m a believer in silver linings and happy endings. And not because I’m naive or ignorant, but because the world around me has made me believe that there must be something better out there. Isn’t that nicer?

“Y/N, please tell me you’ll stay there, I need you to stay there.”

His words almost escape you, but you catch them in the very last minute. It gives you a glimpse into a side of him he has yet to show you, and it absolutely shatters your heart in bits. I need you to stay there, he had said. Not you need to stay there, but I need you to stay there. Suddenly, you realise that this– all of this, the relocation, the involvement of the FBI, the dropping off and picking up– is not just for you.

“I’ll stay here,” Whispering with him like this helps. “I’ll stay. I’m sorry I woke you up.”

“Don’t be. I’m happy you called.”

“I’ll let you go back to sleep, but Spence?”

“Yeah?”

“Be safe. I need you back here.”

“I’ll be home in no time.”

For a second, you trust him. You trust everything will be okay, that you can make everything okay until he gets back, and then you’ll pass the responsibility onto him. For a second, you trust him, but you also trust yourself.

Everything will be okay.

You fall asleep like this; wearing his hoodie and hugging your phone, nose buried on his pillow in hopes to dream of him. The sun wakes you up, and there are birds chirping at your window. Despite the heaviness you feel in you and dooming headache you know will settle soon, the romantic in you believes that today will be a good day. That today will be an okay day.

“Miss Y/L/N? It’s officer Kaper.”

The knock doesn’t scare you anymore. On days one through three it had you jumping on air, heart about to stop from how fast it was beating. Days four and five were easier, less scary and more anxious, waiting for the punctual 9AM knock. From day six onwards, it was a welcome start to your day, knowing that someone is looking after you.

You check the fisheye like Spencer told you to, and then you open the door only when you recognise the face on the other side. “Good morning, Officer,” You smile, nodding at him a bit stiffly. The two of you had been formally introduced by JJ, but it didn’t make this any less awkward for you. “Would you like some coffee?”

“Sure,” He nods, smiling as he comes inside with his usual stack of mail. Everyday, without fail, someone picks up your mail and brings it to Officer Kaper. “Here’s your mail for the day, ma’am.”

“How was the night shift?” It’s almost like a scripted conversation, these back and forth questions you throw at each other, and you’re finding that you hate this. You hate the stiff conversations and the self-imposed bans. But this is day two, and in just more two days, Spencer would be home. And you would talk to him, just like you used to before, just like you did over the phone. Nothing will change; you’re not going home any time soon and Cat Adams isn’t going to just magically disappear. It’s time to accept it and learn how to live with it, as hard as that sounds.

Sifting through your mail has to be your favourite part of the day. It’s normal, slightly boring, and a peek into the routine you used to have and love. No one ever sends you letters, so it’s just bills. “Water, electricity, marketing, marketing,” The coffee is brewing in the background and Officer Kaper is telling you about his daughter. She’s a tiny girl, just two and very, very shy, but apparently, she loves stories. “I might have a book for her,” You get distracted from the letters for a second, smiling at the kind officer. “I’ll bring it to you later tonight!”

When you look back again, it’s the one on top.

The envelope is white, like any other letter, and it has no thing in the back but your name and address scribbled in red, a big heart right next to it. “Uh, Officer, this is… this is weird.” You’ve been instructed to let someone know if you received anything unlabelled or unexpected. This letter is certainly unexpected. “It has no return address.”

“May I open it?” He asks and you nod. He opens it with a knife, pulling a small piece of paper inside. “Okay, it seems like a normal letter. There is no signature of any kind.”

“What does it say?” You’re nervous now, walking around Officer Kaper to read over his shoulder. “Oh my god.”

“Does this mean anything to you?”

Nodding, you’re dialling Spencer’s number already. “It means I’m fucked.”

On the table, laid a message you’d never forget.

He’s not yours to keep.

---------------------------------------

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illdowhatiwantthanks · 5 months ago

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Hii! Could you write something about reader being JJ’s teenage daughter and is in a school shooting. Just for some dramatics and more hurt, she gets shot in the shoulder when she tries to help her friend who’s already shot. (Lots and lots of hurt and then comfort pretty pleeeease <3)

Hey, anon! This is my first time writing something like this, so I hope it's what you're looking for! 💖 –illdowhatiwantthanks

Fight or Flight

Jennifer Jareau x daughter!reader Warnings: HUGE BIG WARNINGS for gun violence, school/active shooter situation, descriptions of injuries/blood, general anxiety/trauma/fear, hurt/comfort (please let me know if I've left something out!) Word count: 2.1k

Summary: You're in the cafeteria, when another student opens fire. When your friend is injured, you have to decide whether to take your mom's advice–"GET OUT"–or stay to keep your friend safe.

You didn’t know it could be so quiet and so loud at the same time. The blood pounding in your ears drowning out everything else so that each scream, each squeak of a tennis shoe against the cafeteria tile, each gunshot, is muffled.

You can’t tell who has the gun, can’t tell where the shots are coming from. The moment you heard the first shot, you were scrambling under the table, so fast, so frantic that you slammed your head on the seat going down and felt blood start to drip down past your brow bone.

You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t settle your eyes anywhere–the whole room just a blur of sound and color. Shaking, you turned to your right to squeeze further under the table and noticed your best friend, Colin, gasping beside you, blood spurting from his lower leg.

He was crying–that was all you could focus on at first. Not the blood, not the sound, not the chaos around you. It was Colin, crying.

You crawled over to him, pressing your hands against the wound and pushing down the bile that rose in your throat at how warm it was. You wanted to say something, wanted to tell him it was going to be okay, or that you were there for him, but you couldn’t manage anything at all. Couldn’t cry or scream or speak or anything. But you met his teary eyes and knew that he knew you weren’t going to leave him.

Your hands weren’t doing much to stop the blood, and the growing pool scared you. You wanted your mom and dad, you needed your mom and dad. Surely, they would have been contacted by now? Surely, the BAU was on their way? This was the kind of thing your mom would get called in for.

The sounds of the bullets grew fainter–the shooter was moving away from the cafeteria. Leaving one hand pressed against Colin’s leg and using the other to pull your phone from your back pocket, you tried to text your mom:

There’s a shooter. Colin shot in leg. So much blood. What to do? I love you

Your mom texted back immediately, and you’d never been more relieved that your go-to was to have your phone on silent for texting during class. Your mom got so mad at you for it. Wanted you to keep it in your locker. Maybe not anymore.

CAN YOU GET OUT??

You sighed, blood seeping through your fingers as tears streamed down Colin’s cheeks.

No bc Colin.

He will be ok. If you can run, RUN. Local police is there. BAU on the way.

You stared at the text, trying to ignore the pained screams of other students around you, the frantic footsteps of those trying to flee the building. It could be you. You could flee the building. But Colin couldn’t. And you couldn’t leave him, you just couldn’t. It wasn’t who you were. So even though you knew your mom would kill you later, you sent the text anyway:

No. Staying with Colin. He’s bleeding bad. What do I do?

The three dots seemed to last forever. You were sure she was going to yell at you, berate you, order you out of the building. Instead:

Take your hoodie off and wrap it around his leg. 2-3 inches above the wound. Tight as you can.

Then play dead. DO NOT MOVE until police say so. And follow their directions exactly.

You did as she said, using your body weight to pull the hoodie tight around Colin’s leg. You shoved his sleeve into his mouth when he screamed, but it was too late.

Lost in the texts, lost in taking care of Colin, you hadn’t noticed the students running back this way, the gunshots growing louder again. And all of a sudden, a searing, tearing pain shot through your shoulder, and it exploded into a bloody mess. When you saw bone, you thought you might vomit, but every other thought in your head disappeared as a pair of tattered Converse stopped in front of you and Colin. You could see the long end of the rifle trailing at his shins.

You jumped a little when he bent down to look at you, and in that moment you were sure you were going to die. And you wished you’d texted your dad, too, wondered if it would haunt him that you hadn’t. You wished you’d listened a little closer this morning when Henry told you about his latest comic book. Wished that you hadn’t been so quick to wipe the spittle from Michael’s sloppy kiss off your cheek. Wished that you hadn’t gotten on the bus this morning pissed at your mom because she wouldn’t let you go to the beach with your friends this summer. You almost wished you’d done what she said–that’d you’d run–but you’d never have been able to forgive yourself for leaving Colin.

The biggest surprise of all: you recognized the shooter’s face. It was Daniel. From band. Seventh chair trombone. Greasy hair. Pimply face. Even quieter than you. He always wore AC/DC t-shirts. You weren’t friends exactly, but you said hi to him when it was appropriate. You knew he didn’t really have any friends, tried to be nice to him, but you didn’t have much in common, didn’t know what to talk to him about.

“Ugh. Jareau,” he said, as if he was disappointed to see you. “You could’ve left, you know?”

You were shaking so bad your vision was nearly blurry, and your voice felt thick in your throat, like syrup.

“H-hey, Daniel,” you whispered, trembling.

You watched him pull a box of bullets out of his sweatshirt pocket, and open up the gun to reload it. You could run. You could run now. But if you did… well, you couldn’t leave Colin. And you could try to get the gun away from him, but he seemed too alert right now. And the fact of the matter was, Daniel was bigger and stronger than you.

“Honestly, Y/N? Kind of wish you weren’t here. You were kind of nice sometimes.”

“Y-you don’t have to do this,” you told him, inching forward a bit, trying to get close enough to the gun that you could wrest it from his grasp.

“Well, I mean, there’s not really any going back at this point, you know?” he said, clicking the gun back into place and cocking it.

You were frantic now, head spinning. “Wait!” you stuttered. “My m-mom. She’s an FBI agent. She can get you out of here. A-alive.”

You were so close. So close to being able to grab the gun. You turned slightly so that your good arm was closest to Daniel and thanked the universe it was your non-dominant arm that had been hit.

“Hmm,” Daniel said, and you could tell he was faking it. That he was being sarcastic. “Yeah, somehow, I don’t believe you.”

And it was then, as he moved to put the extra ammunition back in his pocket, when his grip would be the least firm, that you lunged forward to grab the gun. You tried your best to keep it pointed to the floor, so that if he pulled the trigger, it’d hit your lower extremities or, better yet, nothing at all. You were scared. You were so, so scared. You didn’t think you’d ever been so scared. Daniel was bigger than you. He was stronger.

But he didn’t have two law enforcement agents as parents. Parents that had put you in self-defense and martial arts classes from the time you could walk. Parents that had taught you how to handle a gun by your tenth birthday.

You kneed Daniel in the groin as hard as you could then, hands shaking, wrestled the gun out of his grip, holding it with ease–or as much ease as you could manage given the circumstances and the searing, throbbing pain in your shoulder–and turning it on Daniel.

You scrambled to your feet, chest heaving, and tried to channel your mom. What would she do? How would she make sure she didn’t lose control of the situation?

Your voice shook, even as you tried to be forceful, assured.

“Get on your knees!” you yelled, pointing the gun at him. “Put your hands behind your head!”

Daniel laughed, and it unnerved you. It scared you.

“Damn, Jareau,” he chuckled. “Didn’t see this coming.”

But you were both caught off-guard by the cafeteria doors slamming open and a flood of armed and armored officers storming through the doors. But their guns weren’t trained on Daniel. They were pointing at you.

“FBI!” they shouted. “On the ground! On the ground!”

You weren’t sure how to put your hands up without moving the gun, and you were afraid if you moved the gun, they’d shoot you. Your knees shook, and you were terrified you were going to fall down.

“Hold your fire!” And this time, your knees really did buckle. You knew that voice.

Your mom shot through the line of arm red officers, sprinting toward you and shoving her gun back into its holster.

“She’s not the shooter!” your mom yelled.

“It’s him,” you called weakly, pointing at Daniel who sat slumped next to you.

“She’s my daughter!” And this time, her voice broke. She collided with you, wrapping you so tightly in her arms, holding you up as all the tears you hadn’t been able to cry came pouring out of you. She had never felt so solid, so warm, so safe. Your mom. You wanted your mom, you needed your mom, and she was here.

“Take it,” you sobbed, shoving the gun away from you toward the other officers, who cuffed Daniel. “Please, take it.”

Your mom ripped off her bulletproof vest to hold you closer to her chest, rocking you on her lap. And she smelled like home. She smelled like the lavender shampoo that you both used, like baby food, like mom.

“I’m here, honey,” she said, pressing kisses into your head and examining your body. “I’m right here. You’re safe. You did so good.”

As paramedics moved in, you waved one down and pointed to Colin, who shook on the floor next to you. “Please!” you cried, sucking in shaky breaths. “My friend needs help!”

“You need help, too, honey,” your mom said, gently, brushing hair off your shoulder to examine the bullet wound. “You think you can stand and walk?”

You nodded, thankful for your mom’s steadiness, her strength, and she wrapped her arms around your body and heaved you to your feet. The rest of her team–your BAU family–stood at a distance, watching, and you knew you’d thank them later, that they’d hug you. Bring you food. Make sure you felt safe again. But you didn’t know how you’d ever feel safe again.

In the ambulance (they let you and your mom ride to the hospital with Colin), you leaned against your mom and she held you tight, so tight, as if she’d never let you go again.

You’d stopped crying for a bit, but the tears started streaming all over again a few minutes later.

“Hey,” your mom cooed, rubbing your good shoulder. “It’s gonna be okay.”

“I’m so sorry, Mom,” you cried, shaking.

“Oh, sweetheart.” She turned your head toward her, so that you had to look her in the eye. “Sorry for what?”

“You told me to run, and I didn’t. And–and I was mad at you this morning! I’m so sorry. I was so scared and I thought… I thought I might not get to tell you I love you.”

If you’d looked up, you would have seen your mom blink away tears. You would have seen her struggle to keep her composure, seen her face scrunch up as she pressed her lips to the top of your head.

“Y/N,” she said. “You don’t need to be sorry. Honey, I’m so proud of you. What you did today? Baby, that was brave. You were so, so brave. You saved Colin’s life. I never thought I could be angry and proud at the same time, but here we are.”

You both laughed a little and sniffed.

“I love you, Mom,” you whispered, burying your face in her.

She pulled you even closer into her, wrapping you in her arms, and you knew that no matter what–no matter what happened, no matter how scary things got–she would keep you safe. She would never let you go again.

“I love you too, honey. I love you so much.” And you could feel her tears drip down onto your head, feel them washing away the blood.

#jennifer jareau #jennifer jareau fanfic #jennifer jareau x reader #jennifer jareau x daughter!reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #hurt/comfort

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marvelsdc22 · 5 months ago

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Imagine a conversation with your comfort character(C.C.):

Y/N: "I can't, I can't do it anymore, I give up, I'm done"

C.C.: "You're done? Are you out of your mind?! Look how far we've come! Look at everything falling into place. You're done?"

Y/N: "You don't understand-"

C.C.: "-No, you don't understand! You don't understand what you're made of, stop looking at the scars you've obtained and listen to the still beating heart inside you, you're done, you’ve only just begun"

Y/N: "I'm tired-"

C.C.: "-Then you will rest-"

Y/N(crying): "-It hurts!-"

C.C.: "-Then you will heal! You're the only one that can stand in your way and I won't let you. Now rest, eat, cry, break something! Whatever you gotta do to pull yourself together! I'll wait, you come find me when you're ready... come find me when you're ready to go"

Y/N: "... Okay"

#imagine your comfort character #natasha romanoff x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #lena luthor x reader #kara danvers x reader #jennifer jareau x reader #emily prentiss x reader #melissa schemmenti x reader #marvel x reader #dc x reader #marvel #dc #abbott elementary x reader #abbott elementary #comfort character #source: tiktok

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hyperfixatedoncrimminalminds · 8 months ago

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Hi can I request a oneshot with the team x someone's daughter (idm who) who has POTS and has a bad POTS episode (not fainting tho) and just them helping or smt like that?

BAU team X POTS Teen Reader

Request: Hi can I request a oneshot with the team x someone's daughter (idm who) who has POTS and has a bad POTS episode (not fainting tho) and just them helping or smt like that?

I don't have POTS so I've done research and using the NHS website to help lol

The team are interviewing a teenager who witnessed the unsub kidnapping his next victim who the BAU were chasing, the teen has a pots episode.

Third person pov...

It had been a sunny day, in Louisiana

Y/N L/N was on their way home from a day out with friends, as they walked they routinely took breaks as to not have a POTS episode.

On one break they stood under a shaded area drinking some water, as they did they spotted a man dragging a young girl a couple years younger than they were, they watched as the girl struggled in the man's grip.

She and Y/N made eye contact, the desperation in her eyes made Y/N realise she was being kidnapped, they watched as the man forced the young girl into a white van, they stayed hidden.

After that happened they called the police.

Hours later the FBI show up at Y/Ns house, after reassuring their parents the teen was taken in for questioning about what they saw and if they could help them.

The interrogation room was warm, far to warm for Y/Ns liking, they of course knew it was hot outside but inside was unbearable.

Also they forgot to ask for some water, because of their condition the teen had to keep themselves from becoming to hot and to drink enough fluids otherwise they would faint.

As they sit in the room waiting for the agents to come in they begin taking off their button up shirt they had worn over the top of their tank top.

Soon two agents entered the room where Y/N was waiting, they could see the fear and anxiety in the teen eyes. Their hands were shaking and was fidgeting in their chair.

Morgan and Rossi took the lead in the interview, while the rest of the team observed from the other side of the two-way mirror.

"Now Y/N can you tell us what you saw?' Rossi asked gently, trying to make the teenager feel comfortable.

Y/N took a deep breath and began to recount their experience. They had been walking home from hanging out with friends, when he saw the unsub forcing a young girl into his van.

The H/C teen had immediately called the police but stayed hidden, watching the whole ordeal unfold. They manages to describe the unsub in great detail, from the way he looked to the van and the girl he took.

The team was impressed by the teens bravery and their attention to detail. But suddenly, their eyes screwed up in pain and began grabbing their chest.

Fanning themselves pulling the tank top away from their heated skin. The team were shocked not knowing what was happening to the teen.

Rossi and Derek were quick to the teens side. "Episode" mutters the teen slouching forward, this made Derek leap to catch the teen.

"Whoa there" he catches the teen, gently tapping their face to keep them awake. "Water they need fluid" Yelled Spencer, he had recognise the symptoms of POTS when the teen started fanning themselves during their explanation.

"And call and ambulance!" JJ nods her head as she begins calling for an ambulance.

Hotch then runs off for a bottle of water, as he came back he thew it to Rossi who grabbed it and began opening it for Y/N, he then knelt doen next to the teen.

" Ragazzino (kiddo), come on I need you to drink this for me" he coaxed the teen gently as Derek lifted their head to be able to drink the offered drink.

Y/N begins drinking the water, which helped, they needed lots of fluids during an episode. Spencer then walks into the room. "Ambulance is 5 minutes out, I've read up of POTS we should help them stand up and walk around slowly" explains the Genius.

Derek and Rossi look at each other before nodding. "Okay let's get them up" "on 3. 1..2..3.." together they help Y/N stand up.

Holding them up they trio begin walking slowly around the room to get Y/N moving to help the teens flare up, as they did this the ambulance finally arrived.

Y/N was then taken to hospital, Hotch called their Mum to meet them there, the team all pile into the two black SUVs, all wanting to make sure the teen was okay.

The next day, Y/N is back at the police station, their episode wasn't dangerous one, they had probably overexertered themselves yesterday after watching the kidnapping.

As they walk around they find the FBI agents that took so much care of them, their Mother had insisted on bringing them all home made cookies to thank them.

The teen knocked on the door to the conference room the team was using, everyone was there, Rossi and Derek were surprised to see the teen up and looking healthy again.

"Hey everyone" they wave to the team, the teen walked in holding out the box of cookies. "Thank you for helping me yesterday, Mum made cookies as thanks" they explained opening the box.

The team were shocked, they all reached into the box and grabbed a cookie each, Y/N watched as their faces all lit up at the taste. "Thank you and thank you to your Mother for the cookies" Hotch tells the teen.

Y/N gives them a huge smile. "Also I'm here to help you more, I remembered a few more things, when I have an episode I get brain fog and forgot a few pieces of information" they explained, soon the teen was sat at the table with the team.

The ac on high with a bottle of cold water infront of them. Y/N began telling the agents what they remembered, thanks to their memory they were able to catch the Unsub before he could grab another Victim.

The end!

Hope you liked this oneshot, sorry for the wait I've had the worse cold literally all weekend felt like I was dying, finally feeling better again so here is a oneshot for you.

Sorry for any grammar and Spelling mistakes.

Requests are open!

Word count: 1100

#criminal minds #fanfic #behavioural analysis unit #fluff and comfort #oneshot #light angst #x teen!reader #bau x teen!reader #reader has pots #condition #david rossi x teen reader #derek morgan x teen!reader #aaron hotchner x teen reader #spencer reid x teen!reader #emily prentiss x teen reader #jennifer jareau x teen reader #fainting #reader has a condition

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reidmarieprentiss · 4 months ago

Text

Set 'Em Up, and Knock 'Em Down

Summary: Reader cheats on her partner, then meets Spencer and strikes up a fwb situationship. He wants more, she won't allow it.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: smut (18+) with plot, angst !!, comfort

Warnings/Includes: reader's sexuality is undefined -- the only partner she has with specified pronouns is spencer, smut (18+) additonal warnings under the cut, fwb, commitment issues, insecure reader, anxiety, (un)requited feelings, reader cheats on her ex, both of them are in love but reader won't admit it, heartbreak, alcohol consumption, supportive team, angry emily prentiss

Word count: 14.8k

a/n: this is so angsty hahah i live for the angst ,, this was also entirely inspired by love you like a sailor by @reidmania pleasee check them out they are one of my favorite authors on this app !!!

main masterlist

Additional warning: oral (m&f receiving), fingering, unprotected PinV (wrap it before you tap it), nipple play, slight sub Spencer, mild choking, pet names

Y/N stirred awake, blinking against the unfamiliar light streaming through the thin curtains of her new apartment. The ceiling above her was stark white, a blank canvas that mirrored her current state of mind. Disoriented, she tried to gather her thoughts, but they scattered like leaves in the wind. It had only been a week since her partner had thrown her out, and the reality of her new life was still sinking in.

She sat up in her new bed, the wrought-iron frame creaking beneath her. The intricate designs on the bed's soft cream paint seemed almost out of place in this fresh start, a relic of a life she was trying to leave behind.

The room was sparsely furnished, just a few essentials she had managed to gather in the short time since she had left. The large windows behind her bed let in plenty of natural light, giving the room a bright and airy feel. The wooden plank floor gave the room a warm and rustic touch, grounding her in this new reality.

Y/N sighed, pushing aside the bedding and swinging her legs over the side of the bed. The cold floor was a stark reminder of her new circumstances. She needed to start her day, to find some semblance of routine in this new, chaotic chapter of her life. She padded over to the bathroom, still not used to the cold floor on her once warm feet. Turning on the shower, she stepped in, letting the warm water cascade over her.

As the water washed over her, she couldn’t help but think back to that night. It was a night like any other: her partner was away on another work trip, leaving Y/N alone once again. The loneliness was suffocating, and she had gone out with friends, desperate for some semblance of normalcy and connection. The bar was lively, filled with laughter and chatter that provided a temporary escape from her solitude.

Then she met them—a charming stranger who paid her the kind of attention she had been starved of for so long. Their eyes never left hers, and their words were filled with warmth and interest. She felt seen, heard, and wanted. In that moment of weakness, she indulged. Their conversation turned into a night together, a decision she regretted the moment the sun began to rise.

Y/N shook off the memory and leaned her head against the cool tiles. She missed her partner, missed the life they had built together. The friends they once shared that her partner got in the breakup. The shower was her sanctuary, a place where she could let her emotions flow freely. Tears mingled with the water as she stood there, trying to wash away the guilt and the regret. But no matter how much she scrubbed, the weight of her actions remained.

The argument had escalated quickly, emotions running high. Y/N’s pleas for understanding were met with cold rejection. In the end, she was left standing alone, her partner’s words echoing in her mind: “I want you out. I’ll be home by the end of the week, you need to be gone by then.”

With a deep breath, she turned off the water and stepped out, wrapping herself in a towel. Today was a new day, and she had to find a way to move forward, no matter how daunting it seemed.

—

Sitting in her cubicle one month later, Y/N was absorbed in her work when a familiar head of hair popped over the top. It was Alice.

"Hi, Y/N!" Alice greeted with her usual enthusiasm.

"Hi, Alice. How are you?" Y/N responded, slightly taken aback by the unexpected visit.

"I'm good! I was wondering if you had any plans tonight?"

Y/N was a little confused. She didn’t have any plans, but she had also never been invited to hang out by anyone from work before. They were all a bit clique-y. And while Alice had always been very sweet, she herself had her own group with Charlie and Taylor.

"Uh, no. No, I don’t. What's up?" Y/N asked, trying to mask her surprise.

"Well… Charlie, Taylor, and I are going to get drinks tonight at The Thirsty Felon. Would you want to come with us?"

"Oh, sure. Thank you for the invite," Y/N replied, feeling a mix of apprehension and excitement.

"Great! We’ll see you there at 7," Alice said with a bright smile before disappearing back over the cubicle wall.

Y/N sat back in her chair, processing the unexpected invitation. Maybe, she thought, this could be a step towards making new friends and finding a new sense of belonging. For the first time in weeks, she felt a glimmer of hope.

—

Spencer sat at the bar, visibly uncomfortable, his eyes darting around the dimly lit room. He leaned closer to JJ, who was sipping her drink and looking far more relaxed than he felt.

"JJ, you dragged me out to a bar called The Thirsty Felon. I could be at home watching the new Doctor Who episode," Spencer complained, his voice tinged with frustration. "Do you even know what we do for a living?"

JJ chuckled and shook her head. "Spence, you need to get out more. It's just a bar. Besides, you can't spend every night at home watching TV. You need to socialize a bit."

Spencer sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I socialize plenty... at work."

JJ gave him a sympathetic look. "Look, I know it's not your scene, but sometimes it's good to step out of your comfort zone. You might actually have fun."

Spencer raised an eyebrow skeptically but didn't argue further. As he took a reluctant sip of his drink, he couldn't help but feel a bit anxious about being in such an unfamiliar setting.

The Thirsty Felon was a typical dive bar, with its worn pool tables under vintage Coors lamps and a jukebox that Penelope was enthusiastically feeding quarters into. Morgan and Emily were at one of the pool tables, engaged in a friendly yet competitive game. The walls were adorned with retro beer signs, and the air was filled with a mix of laughter, clinking glasses, and classic rock tunes.

Despite the casual and lively atmosphere, Spencer felt out of place. He watched as Morgan took a shot, sinking a ball into the corner pocket, and Emily clapped in appreciation. Penelope, meanwhile, was bouncing slightly to the beat of the music she had just selected, her face lit up with a bright smile.

JJ nudged Spencer, drawing his attention back to her. "Come on, Spence. Just relax and try to have a good time. We're all here together, and that's what matters."

Spencer managed a small smile, appreciating JJ's effort to include him. "Alright, I'll try," he conceded, though he couldn't shake the feeling that he'd rather be home with his favorite TV show.

—

Y/N sat in a booth with her coworkers, Alice, Charlie, and Taylor. They were clearly close friends, sharing inside jokes and laughing heartily. Y/N tried to listen and catch on, but it was difficult when they basically had their own language. She felt like an outsider, longing to be part of their camaraderie but unsure how to break in. After a while, she excused herself to go get another drink at the bar, hoping a moment alone might help her gather her thoughts.

As she approached the bar, she found herself standing next to a man who seemed equally out of place. Spencer Reid sat there, looking around nervously. JJ had just left to dance by the jukebox after being dragged over by Penelope, leaving Spencer all by himself. When he felt the presence of someone next to him, he turned, expecting it to be JJ.

“About time you came back, I was getting ready to—” he began, his expression softening as he saw Y/N instead.

“To what?” Y/N asked, curiosity piqued.

“Leave,” Spencer finished, somewhat sheepishly.

“Oh, well, don't let me stop you. I wouldn't mind leaving myself,” Y/N admitted with a hint of a smile.

“Not having fun?” Spencer asked, sensing a kindred spirit.

“More like witnessing others have fun and not knowing how to join,” Y/N said, her eyes reflecting a mix of longing and isolation.

“I… completely understand what you mean. I just haven’t been able to explain it before,” Spencer replied, offering her a kind smile. “I’m Spencer.”

“Y/N,” she responded, her tone unintentionally cold. She didn’t feel that she was worthy of the time of someone who looked so sweet, not after what she did.

Spencer, however, seemed undeterred by her tone. He saw something in her eyes that mirrored his own feelings of displacement. “It’s nice to meet you, Y/N,” he said sincerely.

She nodded, knowing he wouldn’t think that if he knew. Luckily, she didn’t have to say anything as the bartender came over and took her order. However, when she went to pay, Spencer cut her off.

“I got it, you can put it on my tab, R-e-i-d,” he spelled out for the bartender.

“Oh no, I can’t let you do that. That's too nice,” Y/N protested, feeling guilty.

“It’s my pleasure. I hope your night gets better,” Spencer said with a gentle smile.

“Uh, yeah, thank you. You too,” she replied, her voice softer now.

As she turned around to leave the bar with her drink, Y/N noticed her coworkers stumbling out of the bar in a pile of giggles. They obviously forgot in their drunken states that they had a fourth party with them. With a big sigh, Y/N turned back around and sat in the seat next to Spencer at the bar.

“Back so soon?” he teased, raising an eyebrow.

“My group just left,” she explained, a touch of frustration in her voice.

“Without you?” Spencer asked, clearly surprised.

“It would appear so,” Y/N confirmed, trying to hide her disappointment.

“Oh, I’m sorry. If you don't mind me saying so, they don't sound like very good friends,” Spencer said, his brow furrowing in concern.

“No, that's fine. They’re just my coworkers,” Y/N clarified, taking a sip of her drink.

“Well, that's good, I suppose. Um, I’m here with my coworkers too if you want to stay with us,” Spencer offered, his voice filled with genuine kindness.

Y/N knew she shouldn’t accept such a kind offer, but he was just so pretty with his big, hopeful brown eyes, and pushed back, silky hair, and god, those adorable glasses.

“Yeah, okay, thanks,” she managed a small smile, feeling a warmth spread through her that she hadn’t felt in a long time.

Spencer and Y/N chatted for a while, their conversation flowing effortlessly. After some time, Y/N started to get antsy and asked, “Do you want to play pool?”

Spencer hesitated. He knew he wasn’t good at pool, but he agreed anyway because he’d never had a girl talk to him for this long outside of work or school. “Sure, why not,” he said, trying to sound more confident than he felt.

As they approached the pool table, they found Derek and Emily still playing. Derek raised an eyebrow at Spencer, smirking knowingly.

“Since when do you play pool, Pretty Boy?” Derek teased.

“Shut up,” Spencer mumbled, his face flushing slightly as Derek laughed and patted him on the back.

Derek then leaned down and whispered in his ear, “Maybe you can get her to show you some moves.”

Spencer blushed profusely and shoved him away with a bashful smile. When he turned back, he saw Y/N racking the balls, her face in pure concentration. He found himself captivated by the sexy way she bit her tongue and furrowed her brow. Then she looked up and caught him staring. Shit.

Much to his relief, she didn’t say anything, just walked over to the cue sticks, turning them before finding the one she wanted. “Do you want to break, or me?” she asked, looking up at him.

“Uh, you, can you?” Spencer replied, a bit flustered.

Y/N nodded, smiling a bit as she realized Spencer must not have a lot of experience with pool. She lined up her shot, her movements fluid and confident. With a sharp crack, the balls scattered across the table, and she looked up at Spencer with a triumphant grin. He felt his pants get tighter and his IQ drop a significant amount.

“Your turn,” she said, handing him a cue stick.

Spencer took the stick and approached the table, trying to mimic her stance. He took a shot, but the cue ball barely nudged another ball.

“It’s okay,” Y/N said encouragingly. “Just take your time.”

As they continued playing, Spencer couldn’t help but notice how patient and kind Y/N was. Despite his lack of skill, she never made him feel embarrassed. Instead, she offered tips and gentle corrections, making the game more enjoyable.

At some point, after a few drinks, Y/N boldly stepped behind Spencer and put her hands on his hips, angling them before leaving one hand on his hip and placing the other on his back to bend him just so. Spencer was sure he was flushed head to toe, his mind reeling. He liked that she was manhandling him. And in public, no less.

Derek and Emily’s mouths were open, watching the scene unfold with a mix of surprise and amusement. Y/N then leaned forward and traced her hand down Spencer's arm, showing him how to hold the cue stick properly. Her touch was firm yet gentle, and Spencer's heart raced.

“Breathe in and out with me,” she instructed softly. Spencer focused on matching her breaths, trying to calm his nerves. When he finally took the shot, the ball rolled smoothly and made it into the pocket.

Spencer was so excited that he turned around without thinking and kissed Y/N.

The kiss was quick, a spontaneous burst of joy, but it sent a jolt of electricity through both of them. Y/N’s eyes widened in surprise, and Spencer immediately stepped back, his face turning a deep shade of red.

“I—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—” Spencer stammered, mortified.

Y/N blinked, then schooled her features. “Uh, it’s fine,” she said somewhat distantly, her pink cheeks the only thing giving her away.

“I don’t know what came over me, I’ve never done something like that before. You’re just so pretty and helpful—I—I’m sorry.”

“I said it’s fine. Let’s just finish the game,” she replied, trying to move past the awkward moment.

So they did, albeit a bit awkwardly. After Y/N sunk the 8-ball, she looked to Spencer to say goodnight.

“Wait, Y/N.”

“Yeah?” she asked, turning to face him.

“I’m really sorry if I ruined things or made you feel uncomfortable,” he said, taking a stabilizing breath. “But I had a lot of fun tonight, and I would love to see you again.”

“Spencer…”

“Oh, okay. You’re not interested, that’s okay,” he said quickly, his face falling.

“No, it’s not that. It’s just—I don’t really date,” she admitted, leaving out the part about her past relationship.

“Oh.”

“But if you wanted something casual, no strings attached, I could do that,” she offered.

“Oh, wow, okay, um, like sex?” he squeaked out, his eyes wide with surprise.

“Yes, Spencer, like sex,” she confirmed, her tone gentle.

“I mean, I’ve never had sex with someone I wasn’t dating before…”

“It’s okay, Spencer. It was just a suggestion. Goodnight,” she said, turning to leave.

“No!” Spencer blurted out, making Y/N turn back again.

“Can I at least get your number? So I can think about it?” he asked, his voice earnest.

Y/N smiled, feeling a bit of warmth spread through her. “Yeah, of course.” She took a napkin from the bar and scribbled her number on it, handing it to him. “Here you go.”

“Thanks,” Spencer said, holding the napkin like it was the most precious thing in the world.

“Goodnight, Spencer,” Y/N said softly, giving him one last smile before heading out.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he replied, watching her leave.

As Y/N walked away, Spencer stood there for a moment, processing what had just happened. He was still holding the napkin with her number on it, almost in disbelief.

“Did you just get her number, Pretty Boy?” Derek asked, sidling up next to him with a wide grin.

“Yeah, I did,” Spencer breathed, still somewhat dazed, leaving out the part about how and why he got her number.

“My man!” Derek exclaimed, clapping Spencer on the back with a hearty laugh. “Look at you, getting numbers and making moves!”

Spencer chuckled nervously, tucking the napkin safely into his pocket. “Thanks, Derek. It was... unexpected.”

Derek gave him a knowing look. “Well, you never know where things might lead. Just take it one step at a time.”

Spencer nodded, his mind racing with possibilities. He had a lot to think about, but for now, he was just happy to have made a connection with someone new. As he and Derek rejoined the group, Spencer couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement about what might come next.

—

Spencer did think about Y/N’s offer, but the BAU got called away on back-to-back cases, leaving him with little time to make a decision. Meanwhile, Y/N assumed he just didn’t want to turn her down outright and accepted that she wasn’t going to hear from him.

Three weeks after the night at the bar, Y/N received a text from an unknown number. Since she didn’t recognize it, she ignored it while she was at work. It wasn’t until later that evening, with a glass of wine in hand, that Y/N was scrolling through her phone and remembered the text. She opened it up to see a message from Spencer.

Hey Y/N. I’m sorry I didn’t text you sooner. I got really busy with work. I’d like to take you up on your offer.

Y/N felt her pulse pick up, not believing what she was seeing. Good things didn’t happen to her anymore, not like this. Karma’s a bitch and all that. Still, she couldn’t refrain from teasing him.

Sorry… who is this?

There was a pause, and then her phone buzzed again.

It’s Spencer. From the bar? With the pool game?

She chuckled, enjoying the moment.

Ohhh, right. The guy who needed help shooting pool. Got it.

Yes, that’s me. So, about your offer…

Y/N took a sip of her wine, her mind racing. She hadn't expected to hear from him, but now that she had, she couldn't help but feel a flutter of excitement. She typed back quickly.

You still interested in something casual?

Yes, I am. If the offer still stands.

She smiled, feeling a warmth spread through her. Maybe good things could still happen, even if it only lasts for a little while.

It stands. When are you free?

I’m free this weekend. How about Saturday?

Saturday works. Let’s meet at your place around 7?

Y/N was nervous he wouldn’t want her to come over to his place, but she had decided not to allow anyone into her new apartment. She wanted to keep it just for herself, not wanting anyone to witness the vulnerability that comes with seeing someone's living space.

Sounds perfect. Looking forward to it.

She set her phone down after Spencer sent his address, her heart racing with anticipation. She had no idea where this would lead, but for the first time in a long time, she felt a sense of excitement.

—

The days leading up to Saturday passed in a blur of nerves and anticipation. Y/N spent extra time planning what to wear, what to say, and how to handle the evening. She couldn’t shake the feeling that this could be the start of something significant, even if it was meant to be casual. She wasn’t going to let herself get attached, but that doesn’t mean she can’t enjoy herself.

When Saturday evening arrived, Y/N found herself standing outside Spencer’s apartment door at precisely 7 PM. She took a deep breath and knocked, her heart pounding in her chest.

Spencer opened the door almost immediately, looking slightly nervous but with a warm smile on his face. “Hey, Y/N. Come in.”

“Thanks,” she said, stepping inside. His apartment was neat and organized, except for the stacks of books covering pretty much every surface. It felt welcoming, and she relaxed a little.

“I’m glad you could make it,” Spencer said, leading her to the living room where a bottle of wine and two glasses were waiting on the coffee table.

“Yup,” Y/N replied, glancing around at the books and knick-knacks that lined the shelves. The apartment felt cozy and lived-in.

Spencer poured them both a glass of wine and handed one to her. “I hope you like red,” he said, extending a glass to Y/N.

“Uh, yeah, I do, thanks.” Y/N accepted the glass and, feeling a sudden rush of nerves, downed it all in one go.

“Oh, good. Would you like some more?” Spencer asked, a bit surprised.

“Yeah, that would be great,” she replied. He poured her another glass, and she immediately downed it as well.

Spencer watched her with concern. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she said, then took a step closer to him. “Can I kiss you?”

“Already? I thought we could talk for a little bit,” Spencer said quietly, his voice gentle.

“I don’t really want to talk. I want to fuck,” Y/N said bluntly, her eyes locking onto his.

Spencer was taken aback by her bold words, but he supposed that was what their arrangement was supposed to be. He took a moment to gather himself, then nodded. “Okay.”

Y/N closed the distance between them, her hands reaching up to cup his face as she pressed her lips to his. The kiss was urgent, almost desperate, and Spencer responded in kind, his hands finding her waist.

The intensity of the moment took over, and soon they were moving together towards the bedroom. Spencer tried to keep his thoughts in order, but the feeling of Y/N’s body against his was overwhelming. He had never experienced anything like this before, and it was both exhilarating and terrifying.

As they reached the bed, Y/N pulled back for a moment, her eyes searching his. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?” she asked, her voice softer now.

Spencer nodded, his heart racing. “Yes, I’m sure. I want this too.”

“Okay,” Y/N said, her voice steady but laced with urgency. She dropped to her knees in front of him.

Spencer let out a surprised gasp, not expecting things to move so quickly. Y/N immediately began unbuckling his belt and unbuttoning his pants, pulling them down with practiced ease. Once they were around his ankles, he kicked them off, following her motions in a haze.

Y/N brought her hand up to palm over Spencer’s cock to make sure he was ready. His breath hitched at the sensation.

“Oh my god,” he murmured, his voice trembling with anticipation.

“Just Y/N,” she corrected, her tone firm yet teasing.

“Ungh,” Spencer groaned as Y/N licked above his waistband before dipping her fingers in and pulling off the last barrier.

The intensity of the moment left Spencer almost dizzy with desire. He couldn’t believe how quickly things had escalated, but he was too caught up in the sensations to overthink it. Y/N’s touch was electrifying, every movement sending waves of pleasure through him.

As Y/N continued licking her path downward, Spencer felt himself shaking in anticipation.

Finally, Y/N licked Spencer's cock from root to tip and sucked him all the way down in one go. Spencer moaned wildly, not knowing what to do with his hands. He ended up tangling them in his own hair and pulling, the overwhelming sensations nearly too much to bear. Y/N didn't notice, and if she did, she didn't care. She bobbed her head and swirled her tongue around his length as a penance for all the wrong she’d done. This was her apology for not going on a date with him.

Her hand came up to cup his balls next, rolling them in her hand. Spencer had never had anyone touch his balls before. He tensed up and came in her mouth.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” he blurted out, his voice shaky with a mix of embarrassment and relief.

Y/N pulled off and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, having swallowed during the surprise. “It's okay, Spencer. That’s kind of what I’m here for,” she chuckled softly, trying to ease his tension.

“But you didn’t get to… you know,” he stammered, feeling a twinge of guilt.

“Cum? It's just us, you can say it,” she replied, her eyes softening.

“You didn’t get to cum,” he repeated, the words feeling foreign yet necessary.

“I don’t need to,” Y/N said, her smile reassuring. She reached out and touched his arm gently. “We can try another time.”

Spencer looked at her, still catching his breath, and nodded. “Thank you,” he said earnestly, appreciating her more than he could express.

“You’re welcome,” she said. “Can I use your bathroom? I’d like to clean up before I go home.”

“Huh? Yeah, it's down the hall to the right,” he replied, feeling a pang of dejection. “You’re going home already?”

“Spencer… this is just sex, nothing more. I thought you knew that,” Y/N said gently, trying to manage his expectations.

Spencer’s face fell, but he nodded in understanding. “I know, I just… I thought maybe we could talk after.”

Y/N sighed softly, feeling a mix of guilt and regret. “I don’t really do that. I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression.”

“No, it’s okay,” Spencer said quickly, trying to hide his disappointment. “I understand.”

Y/N gave him a small, sad smile before heading to the bathroom. As she closed the door behind her, Spencer pulled his briefs on and sat on the edge of the bed, his mind racing. He had known what the arrangement was, but he couldn’t help the flicker of hope that had ignited within him.

When Y/N returned, she looked more composed. “Thank you for tonight, Spencer. I hope you understand.”

“Yeah, I do,” he said, forcing a smile. “Thank you too.”

She nodded, grabbing her things. “Take care, okay?”

“You too,” he replied, watching as she left his apartment. The door closed with a soft click, leaving Spencer alone in the quiet room.

He lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. The night had been incredible, but now he felt a strange emptiness. He knew he had to respect her boundaries, but part of him couldn’t help but wish for more.

—

Meanwhile, Y/N was having similar feelings as she made her way home. She had wanted to stay. She wanted to talk to Spencer about anything and everything, to learn all that there was to know about him. The connection she felt was undeniable, and she found herself longing for more than just the physical intimacy they shared.

But she knew that neither of them deserved that. She didn’t deserve someone as good-hearted as Spencer, and Spencer didn’t deserve someone who had cheated on their partner. The weight of her past mistakes bore heavily on her, and she couldn't bring herself to believe she was worthy of someone like him.

As she drove through the quiet streets, Y/N’s mind was filled with thoughts of Spencer. She remembered the way his eyes lit up when he talked about his interests, the way he smiled shyly, and the gentleness in his touch.

When she finally reached her apartment, she sank onto the couch, her thoughts still racing. She poured herself a glass of wine, hoping it would calm her nerves, but it did little to ease the turmoil inside her.

Y/N knew she needed to protect Spencer, and to keep the walls up around herself to avoid hurting someone again. But part of her couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to let those walls down, to let someone like Spencer in.

As she sipped her wine, she made a silent vow to herself. She would keep her distance, for both their sakes. She would respect the boundaries they had set and try to move forward without letting her feelings get in the way.

But deep down, she knew it wouldn’t be easy.

—

“Uhhhh, oh god Spencer! Oh please!” Y/N moaned, her voice filled with desperation.

Spencer hummed around her clit, the vibration adding an extra layer of sensation that sent shivers through her body. He increased the speed of his fingers, his movements precise and deliberate inside her, driving her closer to the edge.

Y/N's hands gripped the sheets tightly, her back arching off the bed as waves of pleasure coursed through her. “Spencer, I’m so close,” she gasped, her breath coming in ragged bursts.

Spencer didn’t let up, his focus entirely on her. He wanted to give her everything she needed, to make her feel as good as she had made him feel. He could feel her tensing around his fingers, her body trembling with the intensity of her impending release.

He released her clit from between his lips, licking down through her lips and laying his tongue flat before shaking his head back and forth rapidly. Y/N screamed in pleasure, feeling the friction of Spencer’s glasses brushing against her inner thighs. She had selfishly asked him to keep them on during their time together because he looked so sexy and nerdy, it turned her on to no end.

Spencer thought her scream was out of pain, and he went to pull back, worried he had hurt her. But Y/N, right on the edge, quickly put her hands in his hair and held his face to her core, guiding him back into place. Spencer moaned into her, the vibrations adding to her pleasure, and resumed his actions with renewed fervor.

Y/N's grip tightened in his hair as she felt herself teetering on the brink of ecstasy. Spencer’s relentless movements, combined with the sensation of his glasses against her skin, drove her wild. Every nerve ending in her body was on fire, and she could feel the tension building to an almost unbearable level.

With one final deep suck and push of his fingers he tipped her over the edge. Y/N cried out, her body convulsing as she rode out the waves of her orgasm. Spencer continued to move his fingers gently, prolonging her pleasure until she was completely spent.

As she came down from her high, Y/N looked at Spencer with a mix of awe and gratitude. “That was… something,” she whispered, her voice shaky.

“Something?” Spencer laughed, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

“Mhm,” she mumbled, still catching her breath.

“Forget your words there?” he teased gently.

“Brain no work, can't think,” she replied, managing a small smile.

Spencer moved up beside her, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead. “I’ll give you a second,” he said softly, his eyes filled with warmth.

“Don’t do that,” Y/N said suddenly, her voice more serious.

“Do what?” Spencer asked, pulling back, concern etched on his face.

“Don’t kiss my forehead. That’s too intimate,” she explained, trying to maintain the boundaries she had set.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I won’t do it again,” he said, his expression falling slightly.

“Thanks,” she murmured, feeling a pang of regret. Now there was an awkward tension in the air.

“I’m gonna go pee,” Y/N said, needing a moment to herself.

When Y/N came back from the bathroom, Spencer was sitting on the bed in his briefs, no longer hard. He looked up as she entered, his face a mix of confusion and uncertainty.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to ruin the moment,” Y/N said, feeling the need to address the elephant in the room.

“No, it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have kissed you,” Spencer replied, looking down at his hands.

“Actually, I was thinking—we probably shouldn’t kiss at all. Not even on the lips, just to make sure we don’t blur any lines,” Y/N suggested, trying to establish clearer boundaries.

“Oh.” Spencer stared at the floor, processing her words. “Okay. That makes sense.”

Y/N could see the disappointment in his eyes, and it hurt her more than she wanted to admit. She took a deep breath and sat down next to him, reaching out to touch his arm lightly. “Spencer, I really do appreciate you. I just need to keep things simple.”

Spencer nodded, forcing a small smile. “I understand. We’ll keep it simple.”

“Thank you,” Y/N said softly, her heart heavy with the unspoken emotions between them. They had agreed to something casual, but the reality of maintaining that distance was proving to be more challenging than either of them had anticipated.

—

Y/N and Spencer continued their arrangement for about six weeks with no hiccups. It was easier to avoid wanting to hang out when Spencer was frequently gone on cases. Though it did remind Y/N of her last partner and why it didn’t work, only reaffirming why she and Spencer could never be together. She had no trust in herself anymore, so why should anyone else?

There was a dinner party at Rossi’s coming up that weekend, and Spencer really wanted to bring Y/N. Not only because he really liked her, despite saying he was okay with keeping it casual, but because the team kind of assumed they were dating.

He never told them they were dating, but he also didn’t correct their assumptions. Most of them were there to witness the night he met Y/N and to see her give him her number. They knew he texted her, and they also knew he had a special shine to him nowadays, so they put two and two together. Spencer wasn’t comfortable telling them the truth.

So, he called Y/N when he got back from his most recent case and asked.

“Hey, Y/N. It’s Spencer,” he started, trying to keep his nerves in check.

“Hey, Spencer. How are you?” Y/N replied, her voice warm.

“I’m good, thanks. I was wondering if you’re free this weekend,” he said, getting straight to the point.

“This weekend?” Y/N repeated, a hint of hesitation in her voice. “I think so. Why?”

“Well, there’s a dinner party at my coworker Rossi’s, and I was hoping you’d come with me,” Spencer said, his heart pounding.

“A dinner party?” Y/N asked, clearly surprised. “Spencer, you know we agreed to keep things casual.”

“I know,” he said quickly. “But I have to go, and... the team kind of assumes we’re dating.”

“You didn’t tell them the truth?” Y/N asked, a bit incredulous.

Spencer sighed. “I know I should have, but it’s complicated. They saw us together, and they’ve noticed a change in me, they’re all profiles, you know. I just... didn’t correct their assumptions, I don’t really need them knowing what I get up to on my own time.”

Y/N was silent for a moment, thinking. “Spencer, I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“Please, Y/N,” he pleaded. “Just this once. It would mean a lot to me.”

She sighed, feeling torn. She didn’t want to complicate things further, but she also didn’t want to disappoint him. “Okay, I’ll go,” she said finally.

“Really?” Spencer’s voice lit up with relief and excitement. “Thank you, Y/N. I promise it’ll be fun.”

“I hope so,” she said with a small smile. “I’ll see you this weekend then.”

“Great. I’ll pick you up at six,” he said, a wide grin spreading across his face.

As they hung up, Y/N couldn’t help but feel a mix of anticipation and dread. She hoped she wasn’t making a mistake, but for now, she would try to focus on enjoying the evening and supporting Spencer.

—

Saturday evening arrived, and Spencer picked Y/N up in his Volkswagen. She thought it was a very fitting car for him—practical, unassuming, yet with a certain charm.

As they drove to Rossi’s, the air was filled with a mix of anticipation and a hint of nervousness. Y/N turned to Spencer, deciding to break the silence. “So, how do you want me to behave tonight?”

Spencer glanced at her, a bit confused. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” she said, playing with the hem of her dress, “how would you want your girlfriend to act? I mean, if I’m going to pretend to be your girlfriend, I should know what you expect.”

Spencer smiled, touched by her consideration. “Just be yourself, Y/N. I like you for who you are.”

She nodded, but inside, she felt a flutter of excitement. The prospect of acting like she was in a relationship, even if just for one evening, was thrilling. It had been so long since she had allowed herself to feel close to someone.

“Okay, but... should I hold your hand? Stand close to you?” she asked, trying to sound casual.

Spencer chuckled softly. “Sure, if that makes you comfortable. I don’t have any specific expectations.”

Y/N smiled, feeling a warmth spread through her. “Alright. Just let me know if I do anything that feels too... girlfriend-y.”

“I will,” he promised, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

They arrived at Rossi’s house, which was already bustling with the team and a few other guests. Spencer parked the car and turned to Y/N. “Ready?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” she replied, taking a deep breath.

They walked up to the door, and Spencer rang the bell. Within moments, Rossi opened it, greeting them with a warm smile. “Spencer! And you must be Y/N. Come on in, everyone’s excited to meet you.”

Y/N gave him a polite smile and followed Spencer inside. The house was warm and inviting, filled with the sound of laughter and conversation. As they stepped into the living room, the rest of the team turned to greet them.

“Hey, Spencer! Y/N!” JJ called out, waving them over.

Y/N smiled nervously and followed Spencer’s lead. He gently took her hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze as they approached the group.

“So, this is the famous Y/N we’ve heard so much about,” Derek said, giving her a friendly smile. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too,” Y/N replied, feeling a bit more at ease.

As the night progressed, Y/N couldn’t help but steal glances at Spencer, feeling a mix of gratitude and something deeper she wasn’t ready to name. For now, she allowed herself to enjoy the moment, savoring the warmth of the evening and the connection she felt with Spencer, even if it was just pretend.

—

The evening was in full swing, with everyone mingling and enjoying the relaxed atmosphere. Y/N was feeling more comfortable as the night went on, especially with Spencer by her side. She had been sipping on champagne, the bubbles making her feel pleasantly lightheaded.

Just as she was starting to relax completely, the girls—JJ, Penelope, and Emily—approached with mischievous smiles.

“Mind if we steal Y/N for a bit, Spencer?” Penelope asked, already linking her arm through Y/N’s.

Spencer tried to playfully protest, but there was a genuine reluctance in his voice. “Hey, don’t take her away! We were having a good time.”

“Oh, don’t worry, we’ll bring her back in one piece,” Emily teased, winking at Y/N.

Y/N laughed, letting herself be pulled away, though she cast a reassuring glance back at Spencer. He smiled, but the look in his eyes showed he wasn’t entirely pleased with being separated from her.

The girls led Y/N to a quieter corner of the room, where they settled into a small circle. Penelope handed her another glass of champagne, and Y/N accepted it gratefully.

“Alright, spill,” JJ said with a grin. “We want to know everything about you and Spencer.”

Y/N smiled nervously, taking a sip of her drink to buy herself some time. She knew she had to be careful with her answers, especially with the champagne making her feel more talkative than usual.

“Yeah, like how did you two meet?” Emily asked, leaning in eagerly.

“Well, we met at the bar,” Y/N began, sticking to the truth. “He was nice when my coworkers ditched me. We just... hit it off.”

“And what’s it like dating Spencer Reid?” Penelope asked, her eyes twinkling with curiosity.

Y/N laughed softly. “He’s sweet. So smart and kind. He really listens, you know?”

JJ nodded approvingly. “He’s definitely a good guy. How long have you been together?”

Y/N hesitated for a split second. “We’ve been seeing each other for a couple of months now,” she said, which was technically true.

Emily raised an eyebrow. “So, what’s he like outside of work? We only get to see the genius profiler side of him.”

“He’s really fun,” Y/N said, smiling at the thought of Spencer. “He loves talking about all kinds of things—books, history, science. It’s fascinating to be around him.”

Penelope leaned in closer. “And how’s the romance department? He’s a total gentleman, isn’t he?”

Y/N blushed, trying to keep her composure. “Yes, he’s very respectful and caring,” she said, avoiding any details that might hint at the true nature of their relationship.

The girls continued to pepper her with questions, and Y/N answered each one honestly but carefully, ensuring she didn’t reveal anything that would give away their arrangement. Despite the slightly nerve-wracking interrogation, she found herself enjoying their company.

Meanwhile, Spencer watched from across the room, trying to hide his anxiety. He trusted Y/N, but he couldn’t help but worry about what she might say under the influence of champagne.

After what felt like an eternity, the girls finally let Y/N go. She made her way back to Spencer, a smile on her lips and a lightness in her step.

“Did you survive the inquisition?” Spencer asked, his eyes scanning her face for any signs of distress.

“I did,” Y/N said with a laugh. “They’re just curious about us. I think I handled it okay.”

Spencer smiled, relieved. “Thanks for putting up with them.”

“It’s fine,” Y/N said, feeling a warm glow from his praise. “Actually, it was kind of nice to talk to them. It’s been a while since I had friends.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” Spencer said, his expression softening with sympathy. “But I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

Y/N nodded, her smile growing. “Yeah, it felt good to be part of a group again. They’re really nice.”

“They are,” Spencer agreed. “They’ve been my family for a long time.”

Y/N looked at him, appreciating his openness. “Thanks for including me tonight. I know it wasn’t part of our original arrangement.”

Spencer squeezed her hand gently. “I wanted you here. You mean a lot to me, Y/N. More than just... well, you know.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat at his words. She knew their relationship was supposed to be casual, but moments like this made it hard to maintain that boundary. “Spencer…” she said softly.

“I know, I know… I just wanted you to know,” he replied, his eyes filled with sincerity.

“Okay, thank you,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

They stood there for a moment, the party continuing around them, but in their own little bubble, everything else seemed to fade away.

“Do you want to stay a bit longer, or are you ready to head out?” Spencer asked, his thumb gently stroking the back of her hand.

“I’m ready to go,” Y/N said, her voice steady but her heart racing. “But let’s not rush.”

Spencer nodded, understanding the unspoken words between them. They said their goodbyes to the team, who were all smiles and warm farewells, and made their way out to the car.

Once they were on the road, in the seclusion of the dark, empty road, Y/N reached over to put her hand on Spencer’s thigh. She was determined to show him just how grateful she was for tonight.

Spencer tensed slightly at the unexpected touch but quickly relaxed, his eyes flicking to her hand and then back to the road. “Y/N…” he started, but she shushed him gently.

“Just drive,” she whispered, her fingers tracing slow circles on his thigh.

The tension in the car shifted, becoming charged with unspoken desire. Spencer’s grip on the steering wheel tightened as he focused on the road ahead, trying to keep his breathing steady.

Y/N leaned closer, her breath warm against his ear. “I want to thank you properly for tonight,” she murmured, her hand moving a little higher.

Spencer swallowed hard, his pulse quickening. “Y/N, you don’t have to—”

“I want to,” she interrupted, her voice firm yet tender. “You’ve been so good to me, Spencer. Let me do this.”

He nodded, unable to find the words to refuse her. Y/N quickly worked open his belt and pants, pushing her hand inside his briefs. She stroked his cock, feeling him harden quickly in her hand.

“Y/N, god,” he groaned, his voice trembling.

“Feel good, Spence?” she whispered, her breath hot against his ear.

That was the first time she’d called him anything other than Spencer, and it made his stomach tighten with want. Even more so as she unbuckled her seatbelt to lean over and take his head inside her mouth.

Spencer let out a strangled moan, his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly as she moved. The sensation of her lips and tongue on him was overwhelming, and he struggled to keep his focus on the road.

“Y/N... oh god,” he managed to gasp, his body trembling with pleasure.

She continued her ministrations, her mouth working him expertly. The combination of her touch and the thrill of their public setting sent waves of pleasure through him. He could feel himself getting closer to the edge, and it was taking all his willpower not to lose control completely.

“Please, Y/N... I’m so close,” he panted, his knuckles white from gripping the wheel so hard.

Y/N hummed around his cock, the vibration pushing him even closer to the brink.

“Already, Spencer?” Y/N teased, her voice a playful whisper in the darkness.

“Your mouth feels so good, I can’t help it,” he panted, his breaths coming in quick, shallow gasps.

“Okay, you deserve it. You’ve been such a good boy.”

“Oh my god!!” Spencer thrust his hips up as soon as she wrapped her lips around his tip and he came. He didn’t know he would have that reaction to being called a good boy.

“Aww, did you like that? Do you want to be my good boy?” she asked, her tone teasing.

“Y/N… don’t tease me,” he pleaded, his voice strained with desire.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she laughed softly and tucked him back in his pants before fixing them up.

Spencer reached out to cup her cheek, his thumb brushing gently against her skin. “Thank you,” he said sincerely, his voice filled with gratitude.

“You’re welcome,” she replied, her smile widening. “Now, let’s get you home.”

They resumed their drive, the air between them charged with a new level of intimacy. Spencer couldn’t help but steal glances at Y/N, his heart swelling with affection and something deeper he was hesitant to name.

As they pulled up to her apartment, Spencer parked the car and turned to Y/N. “Thank you for tonight. It meant a lot to me,” he said softly.

“I’m glad, thank you for bringing me,” Y/N replied, her eyes reflecting the same unspoken emotions.

They shared a lingering look before Y/N got out of the car. As she walked to her door, she looked back and gave Spencer a final wave. He watched her go, feeling a warmth in his chest that he knew was more than just physical satisfaction.

As he drove home, Spencer couldn’t shake the feeling that their relationship was evolving into something more. And for the first time, he allowed himself to hope that maybe, just maybe, they could find a way to make it work.

—

One day, Y/N asked Spencer if he was free, hoping they could spend some time together outside their usual arrangement. Spencer regrettably had to say no; he had already made plans with Derek.

“I’m really sorry, Y/N. I have plans with Derek tonight,” he said, his voice tinged with regret.

Y/N brushed it off with a casual smile. “No big deal, Spencer. Maybe another time.”

But inside, she felt a pang of hurt. It was silly, she knew, but she couldn’t help feeling rejected. Spencer hated that the first time Y/N had tried to initiate something more, he had to say no. He hoped she wasn’t too upset, but he tried not to let it show when he was hanging out with Derek. But of course, Derek noticed.

“Alright, Pretty Boy, what’s up? You’ve been off all night,” Derek asked, giving Spencer a concerned look.

Spencer sighed, realizing he couldn’t hide his feelings any longer. “It’s Y/N,” he admitted. “I feel like it’s gone too far. I’ve developed serious feelings for her, and I know I have to confess or end it.”

“What do you mean? I thought you were dating her?” Derek asked, looking genuinely confused.

Spencer shook his head, feeling a mix of frustration and sorrow. “No, we’re not really dating. We agreed to keep things casual, but… I can’t do it anymore. It’s too hard.”

Derek raised an eyebrow. “Wait, so all this time you’ve just been casually seeing each other?”

“Yeah,” Spencer admitted, running a hand through his hair. “I didn’t want to complicate things, but now it’s already complicated. I don’t know what to do.”

Derek nodded thoughtfully. “Okay, first off, you need to let her know how you feel. Otherwise, you’re just going to end up hurting yourself. And this way, you’ll know how she feels too.”

Spencer looked at Derek, his expression filled with uncertainty. “What if she doesn’t feel the same way?”

Derek gave him a reassuring smile. “You won’t know until you ask. But from what I saw at the dinner party, she’s definitely into you. All the girls swooned over your relationship. A room full of profilers couldn’t tell that you two weren’t in love.”

Spencer’s eyes widened in surprise. “Really?”

“Really,” Derek confirmed. “You should have seen the way she looked at you. She’s got it bad, Reid.”

Spencer took a deep breath, feeling a glimmer of hope. “Thanks, Derek. I think I needed to hear that.”

“Anytime, man,” Derek said, clapping him on the back. “Just go for it. You’ve got nothing to lose.”

Spencer nodded, determination settling in his chest. He knew what he had to do. He had to talk to Y/N and let her know how he felt. And he hoped, with all his heart, that she felt the same way.

—

The next day, Spencer called Y/N and asked if they could meet up. There was something important he needed to talk to her about.

“Sure, Spencer. What’s up?” she asked, her curiosity piqued.

“I’ll tell you when we meet,” he said, his voice serious.

“Okay, why don’t you come over?” Y/N suggested.

“To your place?” Spencer asked, surprised.

“Yeah,” she confirmed.

“Okay, yeah,” he agreed, trying to hide the excitement in his voice.

Spencer couldn’t believe Y/N was inviting him over. He had never been to her apartment before. All of their meetups had been at his place, and she had never explained why. He assumed it was another way to keep her distance, but now she was asking him to come over. Maybe Derek was right. Maybe she did share his feelings.

As he made his way to her apartment, Spencer’s mind raced with thoughts of what he would say. He felt a mixture of nervousness and hope, his heart pounding in his chest.

When he arrived, Y/N was waiting at the door, a small, nervous smile on her face. “Hi, Spencer. Come in.”

“Hi,” he replied, stepping inside. He looked around, taking in the cozy, inviting space. It felt like a glimpse into a part of her life she had kept hidden from him.

“Nice place,” Spencer said, trying to ease the tension.

“Thanks,” Y/N replied, closing the door behind him. She couldn’t believe she had invited him over. She didn’t know what she was thinking. This was her space, her private, intimate space. Once he saw it, he’d know more about her. He’d see pictures of her family, he’d get to meet her cat, he’d probably ascertain her favorite flowers and colors based on her decorations.

Spencer took in the surroundings, his eyes scanning the living room. The sunlight streamed through large windows, casting a warm glow on the cozy, eclectic space. The room was filled with a mix of bright colors and soft textures, creating a welcoming atmosphere. A large plant stood in the corner, its broad leaves adding a touch of greenery to the room.

He noticed the bookshelf filled with a variety of books and knick-knacks, hinting at her diverse interests. The walls were adorned with framed photos and artwork, providing glimpses into her life and memories. He saw pictures of Y/N with what he assumed were her family and old friends, all smiling and happy.

As they moved further inside, a fluffy cat with a patchwork of colors trotted over, rubbing against Y/N’s leg before giving Spencer a curious look. “This is Muffin,” she said, bending down to scratch the cat behind the ears.

Spencer smiled, feeling a warmth in his chest. “Hi, Muffin,” he greeted, crouching down to pet the cat, who purred in response.

He stood up and continued to observe, his profiler mind at work. The dining room table was covered with a cheerful blue and white striped cloth, and the vases of fresh flowers added a splash of color. The space felt lived-in and loved, a reflection of Y/N’s personality.

She’s soft and sweet, Spencer thought, noting the pastel hues and the gentle ambiance. Eclectic and bright, he added, taking in the mix of vintage and modern decor. He could see she liked to remember those close to her and keep bright colors around, suggesting a cheerful and sentimental nature.

“Y/N, your apartment really is lovely,” Spencer said sincerely, turning to her with a smile.

She blushed, feeling a mix of pride and vulnerability. “Thank you, Spencer.”

Spencer took a step closer, reaching out to gently touch her arm. “I’m really glad you invited me over,” he said softly. “I feel like I’m getting to know you even better.”

Y/N looked into his eyes, seeing the genuine affection and curiosity there. Her heart raced, and she made a bold decision, avoiding the emotions coursing through her. “I want to have sex with you.”

“What?” Spencer's eyes widened in surprise.

“I want to have sex with you, Spencer. I want to feel you inside me,” she repeated, her voice steady.

“Y/N…” Spencer began, struggling to find the right words.

“I know we haven’t gone all the way yet, but I want to. Do you?” she asked, her eyes searching his face for any sign of doubt.

“Of course I do, but—” Spencer started, but she cut him off.

“But what, Spencer?” she snapped, feeling a pang of rejection. If she can’t have him romantically, she at least wants to have him fully sexually.

“Nothing, nothing,” he said quickly, his hands moving to cup her face. “Come here.”

Y/N hesitated for a moment, then stepped closer, their bodies almost touching. Spencer leaned in and kissed her, slow and tender at first, then deepening with a passion that left them both breathless. They both ignored their rule.

He pulled back just enough to look into her eyes. “Are you sure you want this?” he asked, his voice husky with desire.

“Stop asking,” she said, her hands moving to unbutton his shirt. “I’ need you.”

Spencer’s hands trembled slightly as he helped her undress, their clothes falling to the floor in a heap. He kissed her neck, her collarbone, savoring every inch of her skin as he guided her toward the bedroom.

They tumbled onto the bed, a tangle of limbs and heated breaths. Spencer hovered over her, his eyes locked onto hers. “You’re beautiful,” he murmured, his fingers tracing the curve of her cheek.

Y/N smiled up at him, her heart swelling with emotion. “So are you, Spencer.”

He leaned down to kiss her again, his body pressing against hers. Y/N wrapped her legs around Spencer's waist, feeling his hard length slide between her wet core.

“Ohh, Spence,” she moaned.

“Yeah, that feel good, baby?” Spencer's voice was thick with desire.

No one had called Y/N baby in a long time. She let herself enjoy it for now. “Yeah, please, please, I need more.”

“Okay, okay, I got you,” he reassured her.

Spencer traced his fingers down Y/N’s body, pausing at her breasts to tug on her nipples. Y/N arched her back into Spencer's hands, moaning unabashedly. His hands continued their journey down, finding Y/N’s lips and spreading his fingers to run through the length of her.

Y/N gasped at the sensation, her hands gripping the sheets tightly. “Spence, please,” she whimpered, her voice filled with need.

Spencer positioned himself at her entrance, looking into her eyes for confirmation. “Are you ready?” he asked softly.

“Yes, Spencer. Please,” she replied, her voice trembling with anticipation.

He slowly pushed into her, their combined moans filling the room as he stretched and filled her. They moved together, finding a rhythm that brought them both immense pleasure.

Spencer leaned down to kiss her deeply, their bodies moving in perfect harmony. “You feel so– so good,” he murmured against her lips, his hands gripping her hips to pull her closer.

“So do you, Spencer,” Y/N panted, her nails digging into his back as she urged him on. “Fuck, you’re so big.”

Spencer laughed, his ego being boosted. The pace of his hips quickened, their passion reaching new heights. Y/N’s breaths came in short, desperate gasps as Spencer pushed into her with powerful thrusts. “Spence, oh god, oh god, oh godddd,” she cried out.

“I know, baby,” he groaned, his movements becoming more frantic.

Spencer took Y/N’s thighs in his hands and pushed them up, getting deeper inside her. The new angle caused Y/N to yell out in pleasure, raising her hands to dig her fingers into Spencer’s biceps. Keeping one leg up, Spencer dropped a hand to Y/N’s clit, rubbing in precise, quick circles to bring her to her release.

“Spencer, I’m so close!” she gasped. “Oh god! I’m gonna—” Her back arched as liquid squirted out of her and all over Spencer.

“Oh my god, Y/N… did you just… squirt? I didn’t—I didn’t know you could do that,” Spencer said, his eyes wide with surprise and awe.

“I didn’t either,” she panted, still coming down from the high.

“Fuck, that’s so hot,” Spencer groaned, feeling himself on the brink. “I’m gonna cum.”

With a few more powerful thrusts, Spencer let out a deep, guttural moan as he reached his climax, his body tensing and then releasing all at once. He collapsed on top of her, pulling her close as he filled her up and they both caught their breath.

They lay there, their bodies entwined, feeling a deep sense of connection and contentment. Spencer brushed a strand of hair from Y/N’s face, looking into her eyes with a tenderness that made her heart ache.

“Y/N… I love you,” he said softly.

“What?” Y/N’s eyes widened in surprise.

“I’m sorry, I was going to tell you earlier, but you pounced on me when I got here,” Spencer laughed lightheartedly, trying to ease the tension.

“You’re joking, right?” Y/N asked, her voice filled with disbelief.

“No, I’m not,” Spencer replied, his expression serious. “Why would you say that?”

“Why would you?” she demanded, pushing him off of her so she could get off the bed.

“Y/N, I’m confused. Are you upset?” Spencer tilted his head like a puppy.

“Yes! Of course I’m upset, Spencer!” Y/N shouted as she pulled on her clothes.

“Why?” he asked in a small voice, feeling hollow.

“You need to leave,” she said, her voice trembling with anger and fear.

“No, we need to talk about this,” Spencer insisted, his heart aching.

“There’s nothing to talk about, Spencer. This was supposed to be casual. You knew that. It’s not my fault you fell in love,” she snapped, her eyes flashing with hurt.

Spencer stood up to pull his briefs on, his expression filled with pain. “Y/N, it’s not just about me. I thought… I thought maybe you felt the same way.”

“Well, you thought wrong,” she said, her voice cracking. “I can’t do this.”

“Why not?” he pleaded, standing up and reaching out for her.

“Because I can't!” she yelled, tears streaming down her face.

“Please, don’t do this,” he begged, his voice breaking. “Don’t push me away.”

She shook her head, backing away. “No, Spencer. I can’t. I’m sorry.” Y/N looked at him, her heart breaking at the sight of his pain. “I’m sorry, Spencer. You need to leave.”

Spencer stood there for a moment, feeling as if the ground had been pulled out from under him. Finally, he nodded, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “Okay,” he said softly. “I’ll go.”

As he gathered his clothes and dressed, Y/N turned away, unable to watch. The weight of her decision pressed down on her, but she couldn’t bring herself to take it back.

Spencer paused at the door, looking back at her one last time. “I love you, Y/N,” he said, his voice filled with sorrow. “I hope one day you’ll believe that.”

With that, he left, the door closing softly behind him. Y/N stood there, feeling the silence close in around her. She sank to the floor, tears flowing freely as the reality of what she had just done hit her.

She had pushed away the one person who had made her feel truly loved and safe. And now, she was left with the emptiness of her fears and regrets. As she cried, she couldn’t help but wonder if she had made a terrible mistake.

—

Spencer was beyond devastated. Heartbroken didn’t even begin to sum it up. He couldn’t hide it from the team anymore, telling them everything that had happened. Well, not everything, but the important things. They all showed him so much love and support, trying to help him through the pain.

Emily, always fiercely protective of her friends, decided to take matters into her own hands. One evening, she stealthily left a bag of flaming dog shit on Y/N’s welcome mat. The fire flickered in the night as Emily slipped away, a satisfied smirk on her face.

Y/N, smelling something burning, opened the door to her apartment and immediately noticed the small fire on her welcome mat. Panicking, she stomped on the bag to put the flame out. The mess spread, getting into the fibers of the rug. She grimaced, realizing she’d have to throw it away. That mat was a housewarming gift from one of her old friends when she moved in with her ex. It held sentimental value, a reminder of a past life.

As she cleaned up the mess, Y/N couldn’t help but feel the weight of her actions. She knew she deserved this. She had hurt Spencer deeply, and now she was paying for it in small, petty ways. The guilt gnawed at her, making her question everything.

Meanwhile, at the BAU, Spencer found solace in his friends. They rallied around him, offering support and understanding. He could see the anger in Emily’s eyes, the quiet sympathy in JJ’s, and the resolute determination in Derek’s. They all wanted to help him heal, and their efforts weren’t in vain.

“Spencer, we’re here for you,” Derek said one day as they sat in the break room. “Whatever you need, we’ve got your back.”

“Thanks, Derek,” Spencer replied, his voice still tinged with sadness. “I don’t know what I’d do without you guys.”

Emily leaned over, her expression softening. “You’re strong, Spencer. And you’ll get through this. We’ll be there for you every step of the way.”

Spencer nodded, grateful for their unwavering support. He knew it would take time, but he also knew he wasn’t alone. The team was his family, and they would help him find his way through the darkness.

Back at her apartment, Y/N sat on her couch, staring at the new welcome mat she had bought. It didn’t have the same sentimental value, but it was a reminder of the consequences of her actions. She felt a deep sense of regret, wondering if she had made a terrible mistake pushing Spencer away.

As the days went by, the weight of her decision became harder to bear. She missed Spencer, his kindness, his intelligence, and the way he made her feel safe. She missed the potential of what they could have had together. And now, she had to live with the knowledge that she had thrown it all away out of fear.

Y/N knew she had to make things right, but she wasn’t sure if it was too late or if she deserved to. The thought of reaching out to Spencer terrified her, but the thought of never seeing him again was even worse. She had to find the courage to face her fears, to try and make amends for the hurt she had caused.

With a heavy heart and a resolve to fix what she had broken, Y/N began to formulate a plan. She didn’t know if Spencer would ever forgive her, but she had to try. She owed him that much. And maybe, just maybe, she could find a way to mend both their broken hearts.

—

A month after Y/N kicked Spencer out, she showed up at his door. Anxiously knocking and waiting. But an answer never came. Spencer was on a case. When he got back home, one of his nosy neighbors told him, “A pretty young thing had been around knocking on your door.” His heart stopped. He didn’t want to get his hopes up and think that it was Y/N, but Spencer didn’t get many other visitors, especially of the pretty young thing variety.

Once the team returned to work, Spencer snuck into Penelope’s office and asked her for a favor.

“Garcia, do you think you can check the security cameras from my building from the last week?” he asked, his voice laced with urgency.

“Well duh, why my dear?” Penelope responded, already intrigued.

“I think Y/N showed up while we were gone,” Spencer admitted, his heart pounding in his chest.

“Ohhh juicy, I’m in. Give me one second to work my magic,” Penelope said, her fingers flying over the keyboard.

Penelope confirmed that Y/N had in fact visited his building, and Spencer lost his breath. He thanked her and turned to leave, but Penelope wasn’t done with her sleuthing. Y/N had hurt her friend, and she needed to know who she was. She felt that she now had a semblance of Spencer’s permission.

“Uh Reid,” she called out, stopping him in his tracks.

“Yeah?” he replied, turning back to her.

“I think I know why Y/N won’t date,” Penelope said cautiously.

“What? Why? Is she married?” Spencer asked, his mind racing.

“No… she almost was,” Penelope revealed, her eyes filled with sympathy.

“What??” Spencer rushed over to the screen to see pictures and mementos of Y/N’s time dating her old partner.

“When did they separate?” he asked, his voice strained.

“About a month before she met you,” Penelope answered, her fingers still tapping away at the keyboard.

“Okay… so is that why she doesn’t want to date?” Spencer pressed, trying to piece everything together.

“No, I think it’s because of this right here,” Penelope said, pointing to the screen and showing another security video of Y/N at a bar, kissing another person, not her partner. The time stamp confirmed she was still in a relationship at the time.

“She… she cheated?” Spencer’s voice cracked with disbelief.

“Yeah, baby, I’m afraid so,” Penelope said softly.

“Oh,” was all Spencer could manage, his mind reeling.

“She probably didn’t want to hurt you, my love,” Penelope offered gently.

“She did anyway,” Spencer replied, his voice hollow.

“I know. Are you okay?” Penelope asked, her concern evident.

“I don’t know,” Spencer admitted, shaking his head. “I mean, why didn’t she just tell me? The saying ‘once a cheater, always a cheater’ isn’t always true. It’s circumstantial.”

“Why don’t you just ask her about it?” Penelope suggested, her eyes full of understanding.

“I don’t know, Garcia. I need to think,” Spencer said, his voice filled with uncertainty as he turned and left her office, the weight of the new information heavy on his shoulders.

—

Y/N was sitting in her apartment in the dark, staring out the window at the night sky. She hadn't been herself lately, rather a shell of who she became while she was with Spencer. She was taking this parting harder than her breakup with her last partner. She’d been trying to work up the nerve to go back over to his apartment, but she was afraid that he was there that night and ignored her purposefully.

As she spiraled in her thoughts, there was a quiet knock on her door. She turned her head, thinking she was imagining it. Then a soft voice called out her name. Spencer.

She scrambled up, quickly walking over to the door and swinging it open.

“Hi,” she said, almost star-struck, her heart pounding in her chest.

“Hello.”

“Do you… do you want to come in?”

“Sure.”

“Can I get you anything to drink?” she asked, her voice shaky with nerves.

“No, thank you.”

“Okay, um, why are—”

“Did you cheat in your last relationship?” Spencer interrupted, his voice steady but cold, catching her off guard.

“What?” Y/N’s heart dropped, her stomach churning with anxiety.

“I know you heard what I said.” This was the coldest Spencer had ever been with her, and it stung more than she expected.

“I, um,” her eyes welled up with tears, “yeah. I did.”

“Why?” Spencer asked, his tone demanding but his eyes filled with hurt.

“Does it matter? There’s never a good reason,” she said, her voice trembling as she tried to hold back her tears.

“Yes, it does matter to me,” Spencer insisted, his eyes piercing into hers, searching for answers.

Y/N huffed out a shaky breath. “Okay, well, they had a very demanding job that required them to travel for months at a time…”

Spencer listened intently, his expression unreadable as she continued.

“And at first, it wasn’t so bad. They would call often, we’d engage in intimate phone or video calls, they’d send flowers and postcards, and bring me home a gift from every place they visited. But over time, they started pulling away. Calls were missed, texts were ignored, I stopped receiving flowers. Postcards were far and few, and they didn’t have anything written on them. No more gifts, and when they were home, we barely touched. A kiss here and there, they would only touch me in the shower. Like—like I was dirty or something.”

“Then one night, I went out with our friends while they were away. They had been gone for three months; the trips kept getting longer, more frequent, like they couldn’t stand to be around me anymore. There was a person at the bar we went to, they flirted with me, told me I was beautiful, gave me the attention I was so desperate for. And when they asked me to come home with them, I said yes.”

“I regretted it immediately. I called them as soon as I left. They broke up with me, obviously, told me to have my things packed and gone before they got back at the end of the week. That was the end of that. We haven’t talked since.”

“Did they say anything else?” Spencer asked, his voice softening slightly, though the tension remained.

“They told me that they would have never done that to me, no matter how bad things got between us. That I was… a… a whore,” she choked on a sob, “and that I didn’t deserve good things, that I didn’t deserve love. I agreed with them.”

“And now?” Spencer prompted gently, his eyes filled with empathy.

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes filled with tears. “Now? Now I don’t know, Spencer. I’m scared. I’m scared of being that person again, of hurting someone I care about. I thought pushing you away would keep you safe from me, but it’s only made everything worse. I couldn’t stop myself from hurting you.”

Spencer took a step closer, his eyes softening with understanding. “Y/N, everyone makes mistakes. What matters is that we learn from them. You’re not that person anymore. You deserve love, and you deserve good things. But you have to believe that.”

“I want to believe that,” she whispered, tears streaming down her face. “But it’s so hard. If I hadn’t been selfish that night, if I had just walked away from you… you never would have been hurt.”

“But then I never would have met you,” Spencer replied, his voice gentle.

“Was it worth it? Even though I hurt you?” Y/N asked, her voice trembling with uncertainty.

“Of course it was. It is. The only thing I regret is not fighting harder,” Spencer said, his eyes filled with sincerity.

“Really? You don’t hate me?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“No, Y/N. I could never hate you. I love you,” Spencer said firmly, his hands reaching out to cup her face.

Y/N was silent, tears streaming down her cheeks. The weight of his words settling into her heart.

“Please say it back,” Spencer pleaded, his voice breaking with emotion.

“I want to, I want to so bad,” she admitted, her voice choked with tears.

Spencer took her hands in his, squeezing them gently. “Just say it, please.”

“What if I hurt you? What if I cheat on you?” Y/N’s voice quivered with fear.

“You won’t. I mean, please don’t?” Spencer chuckled lightly, trying to ease her fears.

“But you go away for work so much. What if you stop loving me? You meet someone else while you’re gone, or you realize I’m not worth the work and effort?” Y/N’s voice was filled with anguish, her insecurities laid bare.

Spencer shook his head, his grip on her hands tightening. “Y/N, listen to me. I love you. I’m not going to stop loving you because of my job. We’ll make it work, just like we’ve made it work so far. You are worth every bit of effort and more. And if I ever made you feel otherwise, I’m sorry. You deserve to know that you’re worth it.”

“I love you,” she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion.

“What was that?” Spencer asked, a huge smile spreading across his face.

“I know you heard me,” Y/N mumbled back, using his own words from earlier.

“Say it again, please. Never stop saying it,” he pleaded, his eyes shining with joy.

“I love you, Spencer Reid,” she said, her voice stronger this time, filled with certainty and love.

Spencer grabbed her, pulling her into a passionate kiss that took her breath away. Their lips moved together with a fierce intensity, all the pent-up emotions and unspoken words pouring out in that single moment.

They finally pulled apart, gasping for air, their foreheads resting against each other’s.

“Y/N,” Spencer whispered, his voice filled with awe and adoration. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Spencer,” she replied, her heart swelling with happiness.

As they stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, they both knew that this was the beginning of something beautiful. They had faced their fears and insecurities, and now, they were ready to move forward together, stronger than ever before.

Y/N pulled away slowly, as if in a daze. “Spence… are you hard right now?”

Spencer laughed sheepishly. “Ha. Yeah, sorry about that.”

“Why are you apologizing?” Y/N laughed, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

“Because we were having a sweet moment!” Spencer joined in on her laughter.

“Is it because I said I love you? Did you get an emotional boner?” she teased, a playful smile on her lips.

“I think so,” Spencer admitted, chuckling.

“Well, that’s a first,” Y/N said, her laughter bubbling up.

“Yeah, it’s a first for me too. Just give me a second, it will go away,” Spencer said, trying to compose himself.

“Absolutely not,” Y/N said, her voice turning sultry. “Get your sexy little ass in the bedroom. Now.”

“God, I love it when you tell me what to do,” Spencer replied, his eyes darkening with desire.

“I know, baby,” Y/N said, her voice low and seductive.

“Wait, did you just call my ass little?” Spencer asked, a mock-offended look on his face.

“Well… yeah. But I love it anyway. It fits so nicely in my hands!” Y/N said, grinning as she playfully squeezed his backside.

Spencer laughed, grabbing her hand and leading her to the bedroom. “You are something else, you know that?”

“And you love it,” she replied, pulling him close for another kiss.

“Yes, yes, I do,” Spencer murmured against her lips.

They made quick work of Spencer's sweater vest and button-up, dropping the offending articles to Y/N’s bedroom floor. Next came his pants and finally his briefs before he was pushed onto the bed, his head nestled in the large amount of pillows.

“Y/N,” he squirmed, feeling so exposed while she was still fully clothed.

“What is it, baby?” she teased, her voice a playful purr.

“I need something!” Spencer’s voice was desperate, his body aching for her touch.

“What do you need?” she asked, drawing out the moment.

“You!” he replied, his voice filled with longing.

“I’m right here,” she said, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

“Y/N…” he whined, his frustration growing. “Stop teasing, please.”

“I’m sorry, baby. Do you want me to touch you?” she asked, her tone softening.

“Yes, please,” he begged, his eyes pleading.

“Good boy… so polite,” she cooed, her fingers lightly tracing patterns on his chest.

“Can you take your clothes off… please?” Spencer asked, his voice trembling with anticipation.

“Of course, my love,” she replied, a tender smile on her lips.

Y/N stripped down to her panties, leaving those on for something she had in mind. Spencer’s breath hitched at the sight of her, his desire for her growing even more intense.

She climbed onto the bed, straddling his hips and leaning down to kiss him deeply. Her hands roamed his body, caressing and teasing, drawing soft moans from his lips.

“Y/N,” he whispered, his hands gripping the sheets.

She smiled against his lips, her hands trailing down to wrap around his length, stroking him gently. “You like that, baby?”

“Yes,” he gasped, his hips arching into her touch.

“Good,” she murmured, kissing along his jawline and down his neck.

Spencer raised his hands to cup Y/N’s ass, but she took his hands away immediately. “Hands to yourself, no touching,” she commanded, her voice firm.

Spencer whined loudly, bucking his hips into Y/N. “Do I need to tie you down?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No, no, I’ll be good, I promise,” he replied quickly, his eyes wide with need.

Y/N resumed her motions, now kissing Spencer’s chest, licking and sucking his nipples while stroking his cock. Spencer moaned loudly, unable to control himself with all his pent-up tension.

“Shhh, be quiet,” she whispered, her voice a teasing command.

Spencer bit his lip, trying to stifle his moans as Y/N’s mouth and hand worked magic on his body. She continued her ministrations, driving him wild with every touch and kiss. The restraint was torture, but it made every sensation more intense, heightening his pleasure.

Y/N’s other hand roamed down his body, her fingernails lightly grazing his skin, sending shivers through him. She kissed her way down his tummy, her tongue flicking out to taste him, making him squirm beneath her.

“Please, Y/N,” he begged, his voice a desperate whisper.

“Be patient, baby,” she replied, her lips curling into a smile against his skin. “Good things come to those who wait.”

She moved lower, her kisses trailing down his abdomen, making him tremble with anticipation. Spencer’s hands clenched into fists at his sides, fighting the urge to touch her, to pull her closer.

When she finally reached his cock, Spencer gasped, his body arching off the bed. She took him into her mouth, her tongue swirling around the tip before taking him deeper. He moaned again, louder this time, his resolve breaking.

“Quiet,” Y/N reminded him, her voice a hushed whisper as she looked up at him.

Spencer nodded, biting his lip harder, his body shaking with the effort to stay silent. Y/N’s mouth worked him expertly, bringing him to the brink of ecstasy and then pulling back, prolonging his pleasure.

“Y/N, please,” he begged again, his voice strained. “I need you.”

“You just can’t listen, can you? I thought you were gonna be a good boy for me?” she hissed, her voice low and commanding.

Spencer looked up at her with wide eyes, his desperation clear. “I am being a good boy.”

“No, you’re not. You’re still talking,” Y/N said, standing up and moving away from the bed.

Spencer immediately reached out, his voice a pleading whine. “No, baby, please come back.”

Y/N slipped her panties off, stalking over to Spencer with a predatory grace. She lightly grabbed his neck, forcing his eyes to meet hers. “I said: Shut. Up.”

After she finished speaking, she shoved her panties into Spencer’s mouth, making him groan deeply around the fabric. The sensation of the fabric in his mouth and the dominance in her eyes sent a thrill through him.

“Good boy,” she whispered, her voice a tantalizing mix of authority and affection.

Spencer’s eyes closed, the delicious taste of her panties in his mouth amplifying his other senses. He could feel her every touch, every movement, with heightened intensity.

Y/N climbed back onto the bed, positioning herself over him. She took a moment to admire the sight of him, vulnerable and at her mercy, before she slowly lowered herself onto his cock. The connection between them was electric, sending shivers through their bodies.

Spencer’s hands gripped the sheets, his muffled moans vibrating through the fabric in his mouth. Y/N began to move, setting a slow, deliberate rhythm that drove him to the brink of insanity.

“You feel so good,” she murmured, her hands scratching down his chest. “My good boy.”

Spencer’s eyes fluttered open, meeting hers with a mix of adoration and need as he arched his back at the sensation. He wanted to speak, to tell her how much he loved her, how amazing she felt, but the panties in his mouth kept him silent. Instead, he poured all his emotions into his gaze, hoping she could see how deeply he felt for her.

Y/N leaned down, her lips brushing against his ear. “You’re doing so well, Spencer. Just a little longer.”

Her words sent a jolt of pleasure through him, his body responding to her every command. The tension between them built, her movements becoming more frantic as she chased her release. “Spencer, baby, please… you can touch me now. I’m so close,” she moaned.

Spencer didn’t need to be told twice. His hands flew to grab her body, one sliding to her core to rub her clit with diligence and determination. His other hand groped her chest, pinching her nipples, making Y/N throw her head back and whine loudly into the dark apartment.

As she neared her release, her walls tightened around Spencer, driving him absolutely insane. The sensation was overwhelming, pushing him closer to the edge. Watching and feeling Y/N reach her peak was almost too much for him to handle.

With a guttural moan, Spencer moved his hands to her hips and thrust up into her wildly. Y/N leaned forward with the intensity, pulling her panties out of Spencer’s mouth and hiding her face in his neck, panting heavily.

“Fuck, Y/N, fuck. You feel so good. I’m so close,” he gasped, his voice strained with pleasure.

Y/N’s breath was hot against his neck, her body trembling with the aftershocks of her orgasm. “Come on, baby. Cum inside me,” she whispered, her voice filled with raw need.

Spencer’s hands tightened on her hips, his movements becoming more urgent and desperate. With one final thrust, Spencer cried out, his release hitting him with a force that left him breathless.

They collapsed onto the bed, their bodies slick with sweat, hearts pounding in their chests. Y/N lay on top of Spencer, her head resting on his shoulder, both of them struggling to catch their breath.

Once Y/N finally caught her breath, she came back to the reality of what had happened during the throes of passion. “Hey, baby… was that okay?”

“Are you kidding? That was amazing. I don’t think I’ve ever cum so hard in my life,” Spencer replied, his voice still tinged with wonder.

“Well, gee, thanks, Spence,” Y/N giggled, her face still buried in his neck. “I meant the underwear, and the choking, and the… you know, dominant stuff?”

“Oh, yeah. God, yeah, that was more than okay. I loved it,” Spencer said, his voice sincere.

“Oh, okay, good,” Y/N smiled, and Spencer could feel her lips curve up against him.

“You better watch out, though,” he teased.

“Why’s that, big boy?” she asked, a playful edge to her voice.

“Someday, I’m gonna put you in your place,” Spencer said with a smirk.

“Okay, baby, I’d like to see you try,” Y/N challenged, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

“I love you,” Spencer whispered, his voice filled with emotion.

“I love you too,” she replied, snuggling closer to him.

They lay there in silence, taking in the comfort of each other’s presence, having never held one another after sex before. It felt new and wonderful, a quiet intimacy they both cherished.

“Hey, Spence?” Y/N broke the silence, her voice soft.

“Yeah, babe?” he replied, his fingers gently tracing patterns on her back.

“Do you—do you want to be my boyfriend?” she asked, her voice tinged with nervousness.

“Oh, um, I thought this was just casual?” Spencer teased in a faux serious voice, unable to resist.

Y/N squawked and hit Spencer’s chest in indignation. Laughing, she said, “You asshole.”

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t resist. And… you kind of deserved it,” Spencer said, still chuckling.

“You’re right, Spence. You got me,” she laughed. “So…”

“Yes, Y/N. I would be honored to be your boyfriend,” Spencer said, kissing Y/N softly, sealing his words.

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ohlittlebluebell · 5 days ago

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Jennifer Jareau in Criminal Minds S9E14 | 200

#jennifer jareau #bitches be like 'this is my comfort character' and the character in question hasn't known a second of comfort #it's me i'm bitches #the look in her eyes here kills me #jj jareau #jennifer jj jareau #criminal minds #criminal minds 9x14 #aj cook #episode 200 criminal minds

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hotchsreader · 8 months ago

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You’re my Last Call

Word Count: 3.7k

Summary: You and Hotch had broken up over a month ago. Once he broke up with you, he disappeared, absolutely no contact with you anymore. You didn’t know why, there were no signs he was unhappy until he just broke off everything. Up until a freak accident happens, you thought you had lost the love of your life. What if that was never the case, and he just thought you’d be better off without his sadness?

trigger warning: car accident

read on ao3 here

Now there's blood on the windshield

And there's credit cards on the floor

And I'm crawling out the window of my passenger side door

Your picture's on the dashboard and that's the only thing I saw

You were always first to catch me when I fall

Yeah, I'm sorry you were my last call

- Lyrics from the song 3/13 by Wyatt Flores

Hotch was trying to remind himself of the good days when things felt less heavy and he could have a clear head. These days? Everything felt so heavy that he didn’t know if it was possible not to be stressed out. He had broken up with you weeks ago. Maybe it has been a month already, he was unsure at this point. He knew that his presence was a downer to everyone around him, and you had been too much of a light in the world to let him dull you. He loved you so much, but he knew that letting you go would be the best option for you to succeed.

Everything felt like it was going so slowly. He had left the office about an hour ago and was headed toward the victim's house to do one last walk-through to see if there was anything that the local police had missed. He knew exactly where he was going as he and the team had been there before, so he did not even tell anyone he was going there or put the location in his GPS. He had been paying attention, he wasn't too tired, he had slept pretty well the night before, and nothing but you were on his mind. He looked down at his dashboard, to see the photo of you he kept there. Even though he left, he kept you with him. He always wanted to keep you with him, other than Jack, you were his biggest source of happiness. He had looked down for a split second, but apparently, that was enough time for a far to cross into Hotch’s lane and slammed him into the wall lining the highway.

After the car crashed, Hotch couldn’t remember anything until he felt himself on the concrete ground and saw random faces flashing back and forth over the top of him.

“Sir. Is there anyone we can call for you?” They asked hoping to get an answer from the man lying in front of them. They knew there was a strong chance there was a concussion.

Hotch could hardly muster up many words, all he said was your name. Your name and said check the phone.

You were at work. Everyone else had started going home, and the law office was closed for the day. There wasn’t any noise as you sat typing your last report on your laptop, it seemed peaceful almost. That was until, your phone started ringing incredibly loud, piercing through the silence.

“Maam. This is Officer Finch. I have a man here by the name of Aaron Hotchner, he was in a car accident. He gave us you to call.”

“Where is he? He is a Federal Agent.”

Before the officer even finished giving you the details of where Aaron was, you had already grabbed all of your things and ran out of the office. By the time you hung up with him, you were only ten minutes away.

Nothing would stop you from getting to him. Nothing that happened between the two of you would make you not rush to his side. He was, and would always be, your person.

When you got there, the first thing you noticed were the lights and the sirens. It brought back so many memories from when Hotch was hurt by Foyet. your heart was pounding in your chest and you just needed to find him to see that he was okay. an officer waved you over, and you saw him lying on the ground. There was a cut across his forehead, and his eyes were grimacing like he was in pain. It was killing you, even though you hadn’t even fully gotten up to him to see him in that kind of condition. He looked almost pitiful. you weren’t sure if you wanted to talk to him because of how badly he had hurt you so you stood and talked to the paramedics who said that it was most likely that he had a concussion, but that he was going to be fine he was very lucky. The person had crossed his lane of traffic and when they did, it caused his car to swerve headfirst into the highway wall.

You heard a soft voice call your name. It was very quiet, almost like it was reserved. They didn’t want to be calling your name. They didn’t want you to know that they needed you at this moment. you didn’t know what to do because doing this was wrong to be an emergency contact on a person who had tried so hard to remove you from their life. One day everything was okay, holding hands laughing together, knowing each other’s favorite orders at the coffee shop, to not even a phone call explaining why everything ended with a snap of a finger.

“Yeah, Aaron I’m here,” you said softly in his ear, as you finally walked over to him, kneeling next to him and running your hands through his hair. That was always a small comfort for him when he really needed somebody he loved you running your fingers through his hair.

“ I am so sorry but you were the only person I wanted to be here, I know I am probably the last person you want to hear from right now.” His voice was still very soft, almost like it hurt to speak and he wanted to tell him to stop talking to focus on getting to the hospital, but you also wanted to hear what he had to say. Selfish as it was, you wanted to know why. Why did he end everything? Why did he act like he didn’t exist after two years of a beautiful relationship, why did he call you now he had his whole team that would break down walls to get to him if they knew something was wrong? Why did he call you a person who genuinely couldn’t do anything but be there for him?

“We will talk when you’re able to form a coherent sentence, Aaron, I'm here now and I’m definitely not leaving until I know you’re okay.” You rubbed his face with your hand, and he pressed his face into your palm.

you sat there as they loaded him into the ambulance and asked if you were allowed to ride along. They said yes, considering it was not life-threatening. You could drop your car at a gas station and they would come by and pick you up to take you with him. you did not want to be where you couldn’t see him, but you trusted the paramedics to take care of him for the five minutes he would be out of your line of sight. once you got into your car, you texted the team. You still had all of their phone numbers in case of emergency to let them know what was going on and your phone started ringing off the hook.

“What is going on?” JJ was on the other side of the phone. her voice made you calm down a little bit. The two of you had become very close friends during your relationship with Aaron and even after he had broken up with you JJ always kept in contact.

“They said that a car came into his lane and knocked him into the highway wall. He was conscious and able to talk, and I went with him to the hospital. I have to drop my car off at a gas station so it wouldn’t be stuck on the side of the highway.” You responded, your voice becoming wobbly during your explanation.

She gulped pretty heavily, you knew this was hard for her to hear. as well. “Do you want me to come up? I’m more than willing to come and just be a helping hand for you. I could be the communication between the team to let them know how he’s doing so you don’t have to constantly be on your phone and keep everyone updated. I can do it for you.” She knew how hard this was for you, and that small gesture would be such a relief, and would take so much off your plate that you didn’t even know how to deal with it.

“JJ you mean the world to me. Could you also contact Jessica and let her know what’s going on? I really don’t wanna have to call her even though I love her. This is just so much and I need to check on him and be with him.”

“Absolutely. I’ll see you soon. I love you.” She said you could feel how genuine she was in the last few words. Meeting Aaron was one of the best things that ever happened to you, but meeting her was a close second. You reciprocated and hung up the phone, got to the gas station, got into the ambulance, and off to the hospital you went. You held on to Hotch’s hand the entire time.

The next three hours consisted of people running in and out of the hospital room, checking on Hotch, readjusting him, checking his vitals, and it felt like almost complete chaos. The minute JJ got there you could almost cry out of relief. You needed someone else there, to make this seem like less of a fever-induced dream. To bring you back to reality, almost like a shared experience instead of being alone in a hospital room with the love of your life being poked and prodded by hospital staff.

“Hi sweetie,” JJ says as she walks into the room, tears in her eyes as she looks over at Hotch. You know the two of them are close, he always has talked highly of her.

“Hi.” This was the first time you have heard your own voice in hours and it sounded almost foreign to you. It sounded defeated and hurt.

“Why are you here JJ?” This caused you to jump. Hotch had not spoken the entire three hours until JJ walked into the room. Did he just not want to speak to you? If this was the case, why did he ask everyone to call you? You turned your head over to him, a look of hurt running over your face. He noticed immediately and turned his head away from you to look at JJ.

“You know what, I’m going to go call the team, I’ll be back in a minute. You better prepare yourself for Garcia to run in here with balloons in snacks in a few hours Hotch.” She tried to make the atmosphere less tense before she left, but the hurt and anger in you could physically feel it.

You stood up, walked over to Hotch, and put your hand under his chin, and made him look at you. He stared at you for a minute, tears gathering in his eyes as he did and he tried to open his mouth to speak but you didn’t let him get that far.

“Absolutely not, you do not get to speak right now Aaron Hotchner. You do not get to be the first one to speak after what you have put me through in the last few hours. I get to speak first.”

He nodded at you, tears slipping from his eyes.

“You LEFT me with no explanation. You are the love of my life. I would lay down everything I am and will be to make sure you and Jack are safe and happy. I did nothing wrong to deserve to be deserted. I did nothing, Aaron. I love you so much, I will love you until the day I die. Why would you have them call me? Why would you do what you did?” At this point, you were sobbing, and the last few words that came out of your mouth were gargled.

Hotch raised his hand and wiped the tears from your cheek, you wanted to turn away but your brain and arm betrayed you and you raised your hand up to hold his while it was on your face.

“Honey, it had nothing to do with you. You are the most beautiful, loving, caring person in this world.”

“But then why? What was wrong? What happened to us?”

“It was me. I was bringing you down. I was making everything worse. I didn't want to ruin your life with my hurt.” The last few words were barely a whisper.

You looked up, for the first time since this conversation started, and looked at the man in front of you. He was crying, tears falling down the side of his face onto the pillow. He was gripping your hard really hard, the ring on your fingers digging into your skin. He looked pitiful. He was heartbroken, not just because of what currently happened but because of everything going on in his head. You had wished he would’ve told you this a lot sooner. So much hurt could have been prevented if he had just been honest with you. But you knew this man, you knew he would hide things so deeply inside himself if it meant no one else had to get hurt. You knew he would hide things if it meant you would be protected from the harsh realities.

“Aaron. You are and will always be my world. If something is bothering you, I would like to talk about it. I would like to be able to be there for you if you would let me be. Please, just talk to me. Let me be there for you.” You put your hand on his cheek and he leaned into your palm. His face was flush from the accident and from the tears. He felt, defeated.

“I don’t want anyone to have to deal with me. Especially not someone who has so much to offer this world. I am just a mess of a man. You were the last person I wanted to call because I do not want you to have to clean up after me.”

“If loving you means I have to be there for everything, every sad day, every hard day, every difficult day, I will be.” You said, running your hands through his hair, his favorite.

“I don’t want you to have to do that.”

“Too late, I am already too committed.”

“You know, I was looking at my photo of you on my dashboard before it happened.” He turned his head closer to you.

“You have a photo of me in your work car?” You truly didn’t know this.

“Have the moment we started dating. It's a photo of you smiling at work when I came to visit for the first time. You were so excited to show me around to everyone. Your boyfriend is a Unit Chief in the FBI. You were so smiley the entire time, I wanted to remember that happiness on hard days. So in my work car, it sits, it's comforting.”

“Well, we can take more photos.” You sat on the edge of the bed, he sat up and you leaned into him. You were not going anywhere.

“I love you, you know that. I’m sorry for leaving, I just thought I was hurting you more than I was helping. I thought if you knew how bad I was feeling you would feel responsible or that I would hurt you.”

“I love you more than you know.”

After the talk, and JJ called the team to let them know the extent of everything going on, you decided to walk with her to get some coffee. Penelope had shown up five minutes after JJ ended the call with tons of goodies for Hotch, and you let her and Derek sit in there with him while you took a break. Hopefully, he would be okay, Derek could handle Penelope and Hotch needed a friend.

The two of you walked along side each other in silence until you got to the elevator. Once you got to the elevator JJ finally spoke up.

“Want to tell me what happened?” She looked at you sideways as she finished the question.

“Actually, yeah. What he said made me a bit worried and I need some more insight into what’s been going on.”

“I’m all ears.”

“He broke up with me because he’s having a hard time mentally. Has he been weird or more restricted at work at all?” You asked the question as you got into the elevator.

“A bit. I thought maybe it was due to the breakup but honestly it’s been going on a few months. I try not to pry because while he is my boss and my friend, i don’t want him to think i don’t trust him.”

“I understand that completely. I knew something was up, but I didn’t think he’d leave me just because he didn’t want to talk about it. I think we’re on the same page now, but i’m not letting this go. I love him too much.”

“He loves you too, trust me. Your photo is in his car, on his phone, in his office. You and Jack are his world. I honestly think he’s just scared.” As you got out of the elevator together she turned and hugged you. knowing you haven’t had one since this all happened. You loved your best friend, and she always knew what you needed.

Hotch was in the hospital for a day. They wanted to keep him overnight just for observation, but it turned out everything was okay. He had a concussion and a few cuts on his head but he was going to be fine. you were by his bedside the entire time you slept there you only left to go to the bathroom or if somebody else came and made you go get a cup of coffee. Usually it was JJ or Derek that convinced you to get up, despite Hotch telling you countless times it was okay to go home. You truly just were so happy to have him back you didn’t want to leave him again.

You both had walked to your car so you could drive him home. Jessica was keeping Jack for one more night that way Hotch could settle down at home and make sure that he was okay and you were going to stay with him tonight, because there was no way you were going to let him be alone.

“You know we have to talk about everything, right?” you said the minute you both got into the car.

“Yeah honey, I know.” He reached over and grabbed your hand and squeezed it hard.

“Why did you do this? I know you’re hurting. I would do anything to make you happy and feel loved and appreciated, that’s my goal when i’m with you. I’d do anything for you.”

“That’s the point, I just don’t want you to have to take care of me. I want to be there for you.” He started looking out of the window, like that was going to make his hurt get up and fly away.

“ Now you know a relationship is 50/50, and sometimes on bad days it’s 20/80. We give what we can, my love, and if you’re having a bad day I am more than willing to pick up the slack.” It was your turn to squeeze his hand, to bring him back to reality and remember that you were here, and that you were not going anywhere.

“I am embarrassed.” You looked over at him to see him, start to cry, genuine tears falling from his eyes, the look of defeat and hurt and embarrassment falling over his face. it was the saddest you had ever seen someone look and it absolutely shattered your heart to see him like that.

“Absolutely not,” You pulled over and stopped the car, “you have NO reason to be embarrassed about having a hard time Aaron Hotchner. You have been through more in the past few years than I could ever imagine. I don’t think I would be up walking around if I had gone through what you had been through. I would not be as good of a man as good of a dad as good of a person if I had been through what you had to go through. you give it your all every single day, whether it be as a father or as the leader of a team that saves peoples lives and every single day. you deserve somebody that not only wants to be with you at your best but somebody that will be there for you at your worst and I will be there for you. Always.” You took his face in your hands and turned him to look at you. He was still crying so you wiped his tears with your thumbs, and looked him in the eyes. You leaned in and gave him a big kiss. A kiss to cement everything you just said. So he knew, you were completely serious.

“Okay. I am sorry for what I've done, but for you, I am willing to try. I am willing to accept my downfalls, and lean on you when I need you. And you will never be my last call again, you will always be my first.”

“I better be.”

That got a smile out of him, and a small chuckle. You kissed him again and started the car back up, put it in drive, and took you both home.

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotch x you #aaron hotch fic #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner criminal minds #fem!reader #bau team #criminal minds #hurt/comfort #aaron hotchner hurt/comfort #fanfic #hotch #hotch x reader #hotch x you #aaron hotchner female reader #derek morgan #jennifer jareau

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halfwayhearted · 1 month ago

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hihi! just read your ‘super crush’ story with jj and it was so adorable! the story happened to pop up on my feed and i was not disappointed! but i do think this means we need more jj and reader fluff because i enjoyed that despite it being short haha

Rises The Moon — Jennifer Jareau.

Pairing: Jennifer Jareau x Fem!Reader

Summary: After a particularly difficult case comes to a close, all JJ wants is to hear your voice and finally sleep beside you.

Word Count: 415+

Disclaimer/s — This was also short, but I hope you like!

A/N: ANON. NONNIE. This request was beautiful and it actually made my night, I love you baaaaad 🫵💞.

You were asleep when you felt the subtle dip of your bed. Your eyes fluttered open, meeting the gaze of the very woman you’d been waiting for.

Or, well, the very woman you tried to wait for.

“Hi,” you rasped, “When’d you come home?”

JJ runs a hand over her face. She watches while you lift your arm, taking it as her sign that she can finally be close to you. She immediately inches her body under your arm, mumbling, “A while ago. I took a shower, too. You didn’t hear me?”

After making sure she was comfortable, you rest your arm and tenderly run your nails along her skin. “Mhh-mhh. You must’ve been really quiet.”

“Too quiet, I guess.”

“How was your day?” Your voice was gentle yet cautious, afraid it might ruin the mood. Still, it was important to ask every once in a while, to make sure she knows that no matter what, you’d be there for her at the end of a long, tiring day.

All she did was nestle her head into the crook of your neck, saying nothing. You could feel the weight of her day in that quiet moment, knowing it had taken a toll on her. They all did, of course.

Pressing your lips to her hair, you start, “I bought cookie dough. Want to make them tomorrow?”

“What made you want cookie dough?” You just knew a smile was spreading across JJ’s face.

“Because of the lack of cookie dough. We haven’t baked anything besides those cupcakes, and that was months ago! We are completely overdue.”

She lets out a warm, muffled laugh against your neck. “Yeah, we can bake them. What else?”

At that, you pull away, just enough to meet her gaze as it quickly meets yours. “I found out that the movie you wanted to watch is finally on DVD. And I just so happened to have rented it today.”

“Wow. Have I ever told you how much I love you?”

You run a hand over her hair, a small huff leaving your lips, “Not enough. It’s a shame, really.”

Almost instantly, her eyes narrow, “Are you—”

“I’m just kidding! Every second of every day, and I love you for it. I love you. Get some rest, ‘kay?”

“Will you wake me up when you do?” She asks, nestling back into you with a contented sigh. Your heart fluttering in response to the small gesture.

“Not a chance,” you whispered. “Sleep, come on.”

Likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated ^_^.

DT(s) — @planetpedri ! ౨ৎ

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demonicbaby666 · 2 years ago

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Drabble idea - JJ talking care of reader while she is sick 🤒 just all the fluff and feelings 🥰

Sniffles

One shot | Criminal Minds Masterlist | Masterlists

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Pairing: JJ x fem!Reader

Genre: Fluff

Words: 1.3k+

A/N: Thanks for the req nonny, hope I provided you with the fluff you wanted. It's written more comically and is a little too long to count as Drabble, but what can I say, I got a little carried away with the banter. Hope you enjoy! 💜

Hell. That was the only way to describe what your body was putting you through. Head pounding, nose stuffed with tissue and a throat that fell victim to a brutal attack of never-ending coughs, trying hopelessly to get whatever felt like it was stuck in there out.

You’d taken refuge on the sofa that morning, knowing if you went back to bed, there was a high possibility you may never make it out again. Though the idea of withering away and meeting your final demise sounded tempting, someone would probably miss you.

At what point you fell asleep to the tv playing reruns of god knows how many shows, you had no idea. All you knew was there was a muffled ringing coming not just from inside your ears, but from somewhere in the apartment. The door.

Heavily considering, far longer than appropriate, army crawling to the door, you settled on unceremoniously flinging your frail body upright, trying, albeit unsuccessfully, to ignore the black spots that painted your vision. As you trudged over to the door you made a silent promise to yourself, if the disturber of your peace fell short of a good enough reason for ringing your doorbell when you were on death's door, you’d subject them to the very same torment you were going through. One cough, maybe a little sneeze would do the trick, it was only fair.

“I swear, if you’ve lost your cat again Phil, I’ll-” you croaked out, latching onto the door handle - which would require sanitizing now, great - and pulled it open.

“No missing cats,” JJ chuckled, continuing in a hushed tone, “though I am curious, what exactly were you planning on doing?”

Nope. Not happening.

Mirrors, unfortunately, very much existed, which was why you sure as hell knew you were one sight to behold. A neighbour seeing you in a heavily stained dressing gown, hair thrown into a messy bun, and not the cute kind, that'd be fine, normal even. Well, you’d like to think normally you didn’t look like someone who’d contracted some type of bug, but JJ seeing you like this. Very much not the same. So, you did the only thing you could.

You shut the door in her face.

“You’ll get sick.” You shouted, your voice sounding far too similar to that of a dying pelican, or any dying creature for that matter.

“Number one. You’re letting me in because I’m your girlfriend and it’s my legal obligation to look after you. Number two. I know how to break down a door. Number three. If you don’t let me in, I will break down your door.”

“You gave me three points that were not relevant to what I said. You’ll. Get. Sick.”

“Sorry, let me try again. Number one, you have ten seconds to open the door before I kick it down. How was that babe?” For someone stuck on the other side of a door, waiting to take care of a walking germ factory, it was quite astonishing to hear how peppy JJ was.

Well; it was decided. It seemed there wasn’t ample room for negotiation, your front door’s life hanging in the balance and all. Knowing she wasn’t going to give up anytime soon, you hesitantly re-opened the door, peeking your head into the small open space. “If you could avoid looking at my face, that would be amazing.”

“Oh shush, I’ve been face to face with a rotting corpse, more than once.” She stepped forward, foot pressing the door more and more ajar until there was enough space for her to slip in, during which you slugged back to the sofa and threw a blanket over your head.

“I’m not sure that was as comforting or reassuring as you wanted it to be.” It was true, comparing one’s likeness to a dead body wasn’t exactly flattering, in fairness, it may have been accurate; nevertheless, it remained a deflating thought.

JJ took her shoes and coat off, knowing where to put them, then walked over to join you, “Show me that face of yours.” She teased, pulling at the blanket. There she sat, next to you - looking stunning as ever - trying to rip away the one shred of dignity you had left. In your books, it seemed a direct declaration of war.

“Would you stop that!” You pleaded. Too disoriented from the journey to the door and back, there was little fight left in you, making it too easy for the blonde to yank your fortress out of your weak grip, taking the single morsel of pride you had left with it to the floor.

“There she is!” She beamed.

“I don’t think I like you anymore.” It was the fact your sulking face reached only her chest, warming it with pure adoration, that JJ remained impartial to the comment. Finding it more amusing than hurtful.

“Well, that’s a shame, because I still like you and I’m not going anywhere. Guess you’ll just have to suffer in silence. Though, knowing you, you always have something to say.” She poked.

Disregarding the bantering jab, a traitorous smile crept onto your lips. The sight of your dishevelled face led you to believe JJ would run for the hills. She didn’t. In fact, she’d taken it upon herself, in her own way, to reassure you she felt the opposite. The declaration stunning you into silence, involuntarily gawking.

“Are you going to let me look after you now?” She asked, trying not to laugh at the expression written all over your face. “If I get sick, you’ll just have to repay the favour and look after me.”

“Then I’ll get sick again.”

“We’ll be in an endless loop of domestic bliss then, won’t we?”

“Sounds heavenly.” You sardonically quibbed, earning yourself a swift elbow to the ribs. For dramatic effect, you let out a loud groan, which by no means did JJ buy, “There’s got to be a rule against that.” rubbing your ‘injured’ side.

“I didn’t read the new edition of the ‘How to Look After Your Sick Girlfriend’ handbook, I go by the old rules.” She humoured, thinking it was quite a good comeback. Which it was, but she couldn’t know that. “It did mention something about snuggling up on the sofa though.”

Now that was a comeback that warranted appraisal. Unfortunately, in this case, appraisal came in the form of two flushed cheeks and a timid smile, both of which JJ, kindly, chose not to mention. Out-stretched arms guided you down, welcoming you into an embrace you swore had magical healing abilities.

There was a slim chance of smelling anything – what with having a blocked nasal cavity - yet the sweet aroma of JJ’s hair made it through, whether it was a phantom smell, you didn’t care. Not when slender fingers worked on unbinding your tousled hair, running gentle strokes through stubborn knots that unfurled under her touch, much like you did.

“You know you didn’t have to come?” The question came from a place of doubt, had the roles been reversed, you knew with certainty, you’d be doing the exact same. Regrettably, logic did nothing to cease your insecurities.

“In sickness and in health, right?” she softly said, smiling down with so much devolution in her eyes you found yourself battling tears.

“If you so much as think about proposing to me when I’m in this state, so help me JJ. I will sneeze so hard on you; you won’t see the light of day for weeks.”

Putting her hands up in mock surrender, “I’ll save the love declaration for another day as well then.”

But she didn’t. As she diligently re-convened her girlfriend duties, lulling you into a state of tranquillity Buddha would be envious of, rendering your headache near gone, three joyous words didn’t escape your grasps.

Your eyes fluttered shut; safe in JJ’s arms, a declaration of your own filled the comfortable silence. “I love you too.”

Tags: @criminallyobsessedcm @aws-l @babygirlscout | click here to be added to my taglist

#Jennifer Jareau x reader #Jennifer Jareau x you #Jennifer Jareau imagine #Criminal Minds #jj x reader #jennifer jareau #WLW #jennifer jj jareau #lgbt #cm #Jennifer jareau x y/n #Jennifer Jareau fluff #Jennifer Jareau comfort

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pathologicalreid · 1 year ago

Text

buried alive | S.R.

in which the BAU races against the clock to rescue you from a killer team

who? spencer reid x fem!BAU!reader

category: angsty

content warnings: kidnapping, case stuff (murder yk), suffocation, being buried alive, hospitals, blood, nausea, CPR, funerals, use of pet names, guns, and drugs. i think that's all.

word count: 2.9k

a/n: okay, so i've been reading so much spencer fanfic and i started writing it and yesterday i realized i have 20 fics written and they're doing no one any good just sitting on my computer. i decided to finally try posting one. i wrote fanfic in high school (so like seven years ago) but this is my first time writing for a TV show. i've also never really posted on tumblr so please bear with me while i try to figure out formatting. tysm for checking out my post.

part two part three

You walked into the conference room and dropped the file on the table, allowing it to land on the wood with a satisfying splat. “The unsub’s burying them alive,” you said, letting the rest of the team know the conclusion you had come to with the medical examiner. “The M.E. found metal shavings and satin threads under the nails of our last victim. The most common materials to make up a casket.”

“There’s no way someone could bury someone alive in a casket alone, we’ve got to be dealing with a team, at least three people,” Emily concluded, standing in front of the evidence board.

It was the team’s third day on a case in Nebraska, four women had been discovered dead. Asphyxiation by hypoxia. Carbon dioxide poisoning.

“Approximately 420 people in the United States die from accidental carbon dioxide poisoning every year,” Spencer said, grabbing the file off of the table and flipping through it, taking a few seconds to read through it.

Rossi looked over Reid’s shoulder to look at the file, “but there’s nothing accidental about these deaths. Who would have access to these caskets?”

You shook your head, placing a hand on the back of Spencer’s chair, “A funeral director seems most likely.” You looked around at the Omaha field office, different agents running about in an attempt to solve these very murders. “They’d have the most access, write it off as displays. It could be hard to match the materials since they’re so common.”

Hotch leaned over the table and pressed the conference phone, “What can I do you for?” Garcia’s bright voice rang through the speaker.

“Garcia, I need you to look into funeral homes within the comfort zone. Look for a director who’s ordered more caskets than they’ve had funerals. Find anything, nothing is too small.” He told her.

“Absolutely, I’ll hit you back when I’ve got something,” she said, hanging up the phone.

There ended up being four funeral homes in the unsub’s comfort zone, so the team split up. You went with two locals to a family-owned business, Garcia had sent you all of the files you’d need on the location. “It looks like the Varn family has been in the funeral business since the seventeenth century,” you read aloud to the two agents you were in the car with.

“Does it mean they’re more or less likely to be the killers if they’ve been in business for so long?” One of the agents asked you, a younger man named Harrison.

You pursed your lips as you continued to look over the files, “I’m not seeing any glaringly obvious stressors before the murders started, but over the years I’ve learned that’s no reason to write someone off. Psychopaths can be tipped off by the slightest thing. Things none of us would bat an eye at.”

Harrison nodded in the passenger seat, looking over to his partner Jimmy, “You and your guy sure do make an interesting pair.”

“I’m going to take that as a compliment, so thank you.” You and Spencer never explicitly stated to the field office that you were dating, but you walked into the precinct this morning holding hands. The agents must have drawn their own conclusions.

The younger officer cleared his throat, “It is a compliment, ma’am. The two of you are very impressive, your whole team is.”

You smiled, “Thank you, Harrison.”

The funeral home was run by a mother and her two sons, you held up your credentials for the mother when you knocked on the door. “Are you Sheila Varn?” You asked her, raising your eyebrows.

“Yes, what’s this about?” She inquired. She didn’t really look the part of a serial killer, a middle-aged woman who was running her family business.

Pocketing your credentials, you spoke, “We’re investigating the recent murders in the area and we were wondering if you had samples of the materials your caskets are made out of. Might we be able to come in?” You asked, adding a charming smile for effect.

Something flashed across her face before she returned your smile, opening the door and welcoming the three of you inside. “Hold on, let me get my boys up here. They’re so much more versed in the goings on of the town than I am,” she said, opening the door and calling for her sons. Felix and Joss came up the stairs from the basement, now they definitely had the physique to load dead women into caskets and bury them alive.

“Why don’t you two men come with me? I’ll get you those samples,” Sheila said, motioning for the agents you were with to follow her. To your horror, they followed her around the corner. “Felix, Joss, show this young lady what you know,” she instructed.

You took a deep breath before you looked up at the two men.

They were tall, maybe Spencer’s height, but they were built like wrestlers. There was no way you could physically subdue them on your own.

You passed out before you even had the chance to pull your gun.

Hotch was in full Unit Chief mode, Spencer watched from the corner of the room as he separated people into groups and gave them specific instructions. JJ and Morgan walked into the precinct, “What’s going on?” JJ asked looking around the room.

“The Varn Family is the team; two agents were found drugged on the side of the road and when we went to the funeral home Y/N was missing. Her badge, gun, and phone were all there, covered in blood,” Spencer said morosely, watching as Hotch finished giving orders and called the rest of the team over.

Your picture was up on the evidence board with the word “missing” written in bold letters beneath it. All of your belongings had been put into evidence for the time being. “Reid?” Hotch said his name, causing his head to snap up. “Are you okay to keep working?”

Spencer nodded affirmatively, “Yes.”

“Good, I need you to estimate how much time we have, I want a clock on these screens,” he ordered.

Morgan turned to Reid, “What do you think she has, kid?”

“The tidal volume for the average adult is point five at rest. That ends up being about six liters per minute. The average casket is approximately 886 liters in total volume and the average volume of the human body is 66 liters, leaving 820 liters to be filled with air for her to breathe. If she’s been gone for half an hour already, I’d estimate she has less than five hours of breathable air left.” Spencer explained, doing all of the math in his head while Emily put a timer on the screen next to the evidence board.

After a moment, Hotch continued, “Rossi, JJ, go back to the funeral home. Tear it apart, there has to be something there we haven’t found yet. The rest of us will split the list of cemeteries in the comfort zone and search them.”

“That’s a lot of ground to cover, we don’t have anything else to go on?” Morgan asked, looking at the list of burial sites he had been handed.

Hotch looked at Spencer, but Spencer stayed silent. “That’s all we have right now,” Hotch responded, “hopefully we’ll come across leads as we go.”

It smelled like a garden around you. The memory reminded you of spring with your mother, tending to the vegetable garden.

The only difference was that instead of the sun beaming down on you, it was pitch black. The space surrounding you was so dark that you weren’t totally sure your eyes were open.

Your head was throbbing just above your right temple, and you observed your surroundings. Slowly, you lifted your arm until it hit a ceiling.

Not a ceiling. A lid. You were in a casket. You pressed one hand to your chest and tried to slow your breathing. Chances were that the casket was already buried beneath the surface of the earth, trying to open it could be catastrophic. You patted the pockets of your jeans, only to find your phone missing, so the team wouldn’t be able to trace the location.

Even if you had it, there likely wouldn’t be service six feet under.

Your team would find you. They had to find you.

They found Spencer, they found Emily, and they would find you.

Spencer shifted in the passenger seat of the SUV, “You know, carbon dioxide poisoning is a rather peaceful way to die.”

“Reid,” Morgan said, turning the vehicle onto the main road, they had just finished scouring over another cemetery with still no sign of you.

He sighed and stared at his hands, “No, it’s good. We see so many people killed in so many different ways that it’s good that she won’t be in pain when she runs out of air.” He tried to convince himself.

Morgan cleared his throat, “We aren’t out of time yet, kid. We can still find her. Y/N’s smart, I’m sure she found a way to make more air or something.”

But they were running out of time, less than an hour remained on the timer set on all of their phones.

They pulled into the next cemetery, “There’s some fresh dirt over there, what are the names on the graves of people who were actually recently buried?”

Spencer starts to recite the names, and the two of them start to comb through the cemetery.

You had done enough research on this case to understand what was going on. The light-headed feeling had started not long ago, but now you felt like you were spinning, despite the knowledge that you were stuck in place.

It was a high. Not unlike the good kids high. Except instead of trying to chase a feeling, you were dying.

The timer went off when they were still scouring graves, shovels in hand. Derek stopped in his tracks, but Spencer kept going.

“Wait,” Spencer called out, reading the name on the card next to the fresh grave he was standing at, he moved to start digging. “Essie Dunbar was a thirty-year-old woman who was mistakenly buried alive in 1915,” he said, digging. “This has to be it.”

Derek called Hotch, putting the call on speakerphone so he could help Spencer dig. “Hotch, we got her, but she’s buried.”

“We’re on our way, Omaha police have one of the brothers in custody,” Hotch told Emily to have an ambulance dispatched.

What Reid knew that Derek didn’t was that it could take four hours to dig a grave by hand. The soil had been overturned, so maybe call it three. Your odds were still negligible. He didn’t stop, he didn’t stop when a caretaker came running at them, and he didn’t stop when Derek told him to get his digging equipment out here now.

Derek flashed his FBI badge to get what they needed. He had to physically pull Spencer back from the grave so the backhoe could dig, only going until there was less than a foot between them and the casket.

Spencer crudely attached a chain to the casket and the caretaker's vehicle. Carefully, the caretaker dragged the white container out of the earth and up a slant they had dug. It was locked shut, “Reid, move,” Derek ordered.

He leaned back and Derek fired at the lock, taking it off and opening the casket. Spencer gasped, there was blood on the side of your head, dried and raked through your hair. He was vaguely aware of Hotch and Emily arriving as they pulled you out of your satin prison. You had no pulse, but you were still warm. Immediately, Spencer started CPR.

“Reid let me do it,” Derek insisted.

What he was trying to say is that he shouldn’t have to be the one to try to save your life.

Morgan repeated himself and Spencer pulled away, allowing the other agent to immediately take over. There was a siren in the background, an ambulance. More people showed up, Spencer heard their voices, but he just kept watching you. CPR was effective if it was done shortly after your heart stopped, and even then, permanent brain damage was likely.

It had been eight minutes since they pulled you out of the ground. Clinically, you were dead for eight minutes before you gasped.

Spencer smoothed your hair back, away from your face, while you desperately tried to catch your breath. You weren’t moving, and Spencer started running through symptoms of hypoxia. His biggest fear was brain damage, that they had done more harm to you in bringing you back than they would have had you died.

The EMTs came running over to where everyone had gathered, dispersing the crowd, and placing an oxygen mask over your face. As they were loading you on the stretcher, you started trying to talk, reaching your arm out to your side. “Wait, what’s she saying?” JJ asked.

“Sometimes it’s hard to talk after CPR,” the male EMT said as they moved you closer to the ambulance. He listened to what you were saying, “It’s not coherent.”

Spencer didn’t move, all of the adrenaline that had been coursing through his body all day was leaving.

Aphasia. They were saying the lack of oxygen to your brain was causing aphasia. “No,” Emily said, realization dawning on her features as she strained to listen to you. You were whispering, rasping the same word over and over again. “She’s saying ‘Spence.’”

He stood quickly and looked at you, sure enough, you were reaching out your hand and whispering, “Spence, Spence.” Your voice no more than a whisper.

Grabbing your hand, Spencer squeezed it, “I’m here,” he answered. “It’s okay, it’s over,” he told you, moving your hair out of your face. Spencer secured your oxygen mask over your face as you tried to take it off, “You have to keep this on, angel.”

To his relief, you squeezed his hand back.

You had been instructed to get some rest, but you couldn’t close your eyes. You asked Spencer to go back to the hotel and change his clothes because he smelled like dirt, and it made you nauseous. Your head had been bandaged, you’d been run through an MRI, and you did an EEG, so far, the only brain damage that had been incurred seemed temporary.

According to the doctors, the nausea and fatigue should wear off, but they hadn’t been able to fully assess if any permanent damage was done. At this point, the worst of your injuries had been caused by being given CPR, resulting in cracked ribs.

Despite your headache, you kept most of the lights on in your hospital room, not quite ready to be left in the darkness again. “Hey,” a voice called from your doorway, Spencer stood, waiting to be invited in. He was wearing different clothes, a button-up with a green cardigan thrown over it, and clean pants. “How are you feeling?”

A nasal cannula slightly restricted your movement, but you were sat up in the hospital bed, “Better than I was, but not perfect.”

He shook his head, walking in and taking a seat next to you, “No one expects you to be perfect right now.” Gently, he reached out and took your hand, skimming the pad of his thumb over your knuckles. “They found the mother and the other son, and all three of them are going to go away for a long time,” he told you, speaking in the kind of hushed, reverent tones that are reserved for hospitals.

You sighed and tilted your head back, “Good,” you maundered. “That’s uh, good,” your voice was barely audible.

“So why do you look so worried?” He asked, leaning in closer to you.

In an attempt to dismiss his concern, you joked, “I think I owe Morgan some sort of life debt now.”

Spencer offered you a soft smile, “The two of you tend to trade those off, I’m sure you’ll find some way to make it up to him.” He inclined his head towards you as if to silently say, So what is it really?

You swallowed thickly, “I’m scared to close my eyes, Spence.”

His shoulders dropped, “oh, Angel,” he breathed. “Is there anything I can do for you?” He asked, looping a loose strand of your hair behind your ear. “Wait, what are you doing?” He asked, watching you as you lifted yourself, so you were on one side of the bed.

Shyly, you patted the new empty half of the bed, inviting him to sit next to you.

He had no choice but to comply, he had the hardest time saying no to you. Leaning the bed back slightly, Spencer kicked off his shoes before he laid down next to you, wrapping an arm around you as you set your cheek on his shoulder.

Your body relaxed into his and you sighed, “Spence?” You murmured.

He pressed a gentle kiss to the crown of your head, “Yes, angel?” He whispered back to you.

“Thanks for coming to save me,” you mumbled, slowly relaxing enough to fall asleep.

Spencer exhaled, “I’m always going to come to save you.”

part two

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #jennifer jareau #derek morgan #penelope garcia #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid angst #spencer reid hurt/comfort #spencer reid x you #h writes (hypothetically)

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donnydamakkk · 29 days ago

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it is actually incredibly annoying to look in the jj tag n it take forever to actually fuckin see jj

#i jus wanna see my comfort character bro #the way this doesnt even jus apply to her either #like u can jus tag the show n the characters involved n NOT tag everyone else like omg #tryna find content for anyone who isnt like emily spencer or hotch in this fandom is literal hell fr #adding to this — if ur “exposure tagging" for the most popular characters of any fandom ur in then ur really inconsiderate #jennifer jareau #jennifer jj jareau #criminal minds

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dalamjisung · 13 days ago

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A muted shade of green ✧ Chapter 7: The end of beginnings

genre: angst, fluff, a lot of introspection

word count: 9743 (MY GOD IT'S A LONGER CHAPTER)

pairing: reader x spencer reid

description: you and spencer finally give into the tension that's been growing between you, but what happens now?

a muted shade of green masterlist

previous chapter // next chapter

This chapter I'm dedicating to @chicaconfundidaycuriosa who makes my day with her hypothesis in the comments <3 thank you all for your support throughout this series!

“You do it.”

“No!” You gasp, shaking your head so fast you feel like your brain is shaking too. “You do it!”

“Your entire job is about people, you do it.” He insists, gently nudging you forward, but you don’t bulge. “Y/N, come on, it’s not that scary!”

“I’m not scared, I just hate talking on the phone! You wouldn’t know what’s that like, since you barely use yours.”

“And now you’re diverging,” He giggles, pushing the phone over the counter to you once again.

It has been almost thirty minutes of this and that is not really how you imagine spending your morning after all that had happened last night. For a moment there, Spencer’s voice fades to the background and all you can focus on are those beautiful, pink lips. Now that you know how they feel– the perfect balance of chapped roughness and natural softness; not now that you know how he tastes, something so naturally Spencer and minty toothpaste; not now that you know how he sounds when he whispers for more, more more. Not now, not ever.

Took you both some time to come down from the absolute high of acting like teenagers. What had started like a sweet, slow kiss, quickly turned into what teenagers would refer to ‘making out’, and suddenly you two were a little hurricane of hands, lips, and tangles bodies trying to make it to the room. The feeling of his hands on your waist, tugging you closer, pushing you down– “Y/N?”

Your cheeks explode in a fiery red shade when you realise he’s caught you daydreaming.

Again.

“Yeah?” Shaking your head slightly, look down at the phone being pushed between you two.

“Are you going to call her?”

To be fair, you haven’t really explained everything to him considering how… distracted… you were last night. And then this morning. And even now, mind going not so far away from the kitchen to the room, where absolutely nothing had happened last night. Absolutely. Nothing. Frustration settled after a while, a thrumming hum in the back of your head that never really let you fall asleep. It was only natural that after so long craving this, you had been excited at the thought of finally letting it happen, of allowing yourself to enjoy a moment that had meant as much in your dreams as it did in real life… but then you two made it to the bed. And you laid down. And suddenly, the underlying need behind every push and pull of his perfect lips against yours started to fade, and his hands that explored your body oh so eagerly started to slow down, and before you could say anything, he was backtracking to forehead kisses and getting up to brush his teeth.

Like it had been just another day.

Just another kiss.

“I don’t want to,” You whisper back, eyes wide in a vulnerable state that has nothing to do with Abigail or the fact that you are about to hire her to take care of your store.

This is not even about last night.

This is about this morning.

This is about the fact that when you woke up, he wasn’t there. His side of the bed was tussled, and the pillows were thrown around, but Spencer was missing. For a moment, your heart sinks. You scramble around the bed, feeling out his side, searching for something, anything, that would give into your dwindling hope of last night not having been a dream, because god knows how many dreams you’ve had of him. But then you hear it, the sound of the shower running and the light humming of a man who has not a single musical bone in his body, and you let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding.

Then it downs on you. It wasn’t a dream. Spencer kissed you last night, that’s a fact. And now he’s about to come out of the bathroom and you refuse to let the first thing he sees, on such a special morning, be this messy hair, panicked face version of yourself. The way you roll out of bed, rushed to the point of tripping on the blankets and falling on your knees with a hiss, is enough to have you laughing at yourself. Your cheeks blush when you think of facing him so early in the day and despite the excitement of it all, you are nervous. What will he say? What will he do?

Making breakfast seems like a great way to ease your overthinking mind of any incoming anxieties, and it’s a simple matter of action and reaction.

Action, breaking the eggs over the hot pan. Reaction, frying some eggs. Action, putting the bread in the toaster. Reaction, getting some toast to eat with your eggs. Action–

“Good morning.” Action, Spencer comes out of the shower.

“Good morning,” You call back, looking down at the pan with such an obsessions you barely notice him stopping behind you.

You do notice his hands landing on your waist, though, and when he turns you around, you can smell the fresh scent of his minty soap he loves so much. His smile calms you a little, and he leans forward, coming down, down, down… until his lips touch your forehead. “Slept well?” He mumbles, reaching behind you for a toast and then walking away to grab his bag from wherever he hid it. Blinking, you can’t even answer his question. Is he fucking teasing you or is he serious?

Safe to say, you don’t really speak up then nor later, and that’s how you two end up where you are, sitting in front of each other in a stupid battle over who calls who.

“Why don’t you want to call her?”

Eyes cast down, almost in shame, you shrug. “I…” How do you explain it to him without sounding crazy? “I don’t know, Spence. She makes me feel… weird. Like she knows something I don’t.”

“Oh sweetheart,” His nice words can’t hide the smile on his face. “It’s just change. And you’re human, Y/N, which means you naturally don’t like change. But it’s okay, I promise. You already asked Garcia to dig as deep as she could and nothing came up as suspicious. You also refuse to entertain the idea of hiring your second choice because you said, and I quote, ‘he grabbed a book with greasy hands.’ So, this is pretty much the only option you have.”

Great. Instead of a kiss that you crave, you get the dose of reality check you deserve. “Thank you, Spencer,” You grumble, the irony of your words not missing the spot when his smile falters. You grab the phone to dealing the number you’ve been avoiding for so long, but you stop before pressing call. “Fuck.”

“Y/N–“ The magic of last night is gone when his phone rings and you know he has to go.

“Go,” You whisper, patting his shoulder with dejection. At this point, the morning is ruined and, to be very honest, he is partially at fault.

A kiss is not something you would consider casual. You know a lot of people do, and that’s okay; you don’t mind about how other people live their lives. You do, however, care about what Spencer thinks and does, and in your books, kissing you and then ignoring it the next day is simply not acceptable. But then you sit with it for a while, and your brain starts whirring up. Usually, when you open your eyes, the sun is barely up and Spencer’s breathing is regular enough to keep your head going up and down, up and down, up and down. The more you two cuddle, the more you realise you love the sound of his heartbeat– you were yet to see him hurt, but you’ve heard enough stories from past cases that now, whenever you got that little extra confirmation that he is okay, you feel a sense of relief that you can’t really explain. Yet, that morning, when you finally make sense of what the fuck was happening without the your usual warm body next to you, you don’t feel relief. You don’t feel anything, to be very honest, because for a moment, your blood turns cold at the idea that Spencer might have woken up and regretted it all.

“I feel like I shouldn’t,” He frown, cocking his head to the side in that way that makes you think he’s about to tell you something about yourself that you’ve never asked. “Y/N–“ “Go to work, Spencer,” You repeat yourself before pressing ‘call’. The phone in your ear is enough to keep him from trying to chase you. “Abigail? Hi! This is Y/N, from the bookstore… Yes. Yes, and from the uh, from the building. I’m calling with good news– you seem like the perfect person for the position. You– oh, no, no, it’s okay, you don’t have to bring me anything, it’s fine!”

This is the last thing you need– Abigail and her nosy nature. “What’s going on?” Spencer I next to you and his mouth is so close to your ear you shiver a little when he speaks.

“Abigail, please, I’m about to go out and– oh, no, my… Spence is going to work. Thank you for offering to bake a cake but I’ll just se you at work, okay? Alright. Yeah, okay, thank you! I’ll be sending you a follow up email with all the information for next steps. Thank you! Have a good day! Bye!”

“Y/N, did Abigail do something to make you uncomfortable?” His hands on your shoulder that hold you at arms length are starting to annoy you. Now he didn’t even want you close? There is more to it and you know it. Above all, you’re not completely illogical, but your brain is working overtime and your heart is hurting, and now every little thing Spencer does will be an issue.

Fed up with it all, you stomp your feet and walk away. “Go to work, Doctor Reid!” The impetuous way you huff as you turn around and slam the door of his room shut has him gasping, and you can hear if from where you stand, embarrassed by yourself and your ridiculous, childish behaviour. Still, you refuse to go back out there until you’re sure you’ve heard the door closing behind him.

“Fuck me,” You mutter after you sit there in your own silence. The apartment doesn’t feel the same as it used to anymore. It’s not a matter of coming in and watering his plants anymore. You don’t just walk around looking for clues from the scattered books in his apartment anymore. You actually know things now. You know parts of his life that he had to tell you, parts that you didn’t have to guess, and it actually felt good— he was opening up out of his own volition and now you’ve ruined everything. Maybe you got greedy. Maybe you got greedy for his welcoming arms and whispered pet names. Maybe it all felt too good, and, just like Icarus, you might have flown too close to the sun, and now you are falling, wings melted and ruined.

Before you know it, you’re already dialling your mom’s number.

“Mom?” You are sitting on the floor, legs pulled to your chest with a ridiculous pout on your lips, and from the way she laughs on the other side of the line, you think she can hear it.

“Well, look who it is,” She teases. It’s easy to picture her face when she says that. You two have made a dance out of it, this whole loving sarcasm thing, and she always go first. Naturally, you just follow her lead. “My daughter who forgot I exist.”

“Aw,” You smile, shaking your head in amusement. “Is this my mother? The one who knows how pick up the phone and dial my number if she wants to talk to me?”

You two laugh for a while before she speaks again. “I’m serious, sweetheart, I’ve missed you. I haven’t seen your face in a while and… and your dad misses you too, you know?” The slight sniffle on the other side of the line breaks your heart a little.

“I miss him too,” You whisper, voice a bit too soft for her not to notice.

“Y/N, is something wrong? Did something happen?” It’s no surprise your mom panics quickly when it comes to you, specially after everything that happened in New York. “Is it Josh? Did he find you?”

God, how it hurts that she even has to worry about that. “No, no, it’s not Josh, it’s…” You are yet to tell her about Spencer. And not in the context of this entire situation with Cat, but about Spencer as the wonderful human he is. About his quirks and his love for books and his chess addiction and… and the fact that he has your heart in the palm of his hands and you’re scared. You’re so scared. “I met someone.”

Her gasp has your eyes shutting– it’s so nostalgic, that noise of motherly surprise, that you can’t help but bask in it. Growing up, you had always been very close to your mother, enjoying days out together on Sundays and always trusting her to keep your secrets safe from the world. She was your biggest fan, too; supported you on everything you did, cheered from you from the sidelines of every game you wanted to try, helped you convince your dad to let you go to parties you never enjoyed. Never had she unfairly punished you, never had she betrayed your trust, never had she treated you with anything but love and pride. Hiding things from her is hard, possibly one of the hardest things you have ever done, and you hate how easy it’s becoming to deflect her questions and ignore her comments, because truly, all you want to do on days like this, where your heart hurts and your spirits dwindle, is to go to her and cry. Is that too much to ask?

“Tell me about this person,” She immediately shuffles around and you picture her in the same living room you’ve grown up reading book after book. If you have to guess, she has her usual coffee mug next to her, an addiction you blame her for passing onto you, and she’ll throw the old knitted blanket she’s so proud of making over her legs.

“Well, his name is Spencer–“

“Spencer is a good name!” She whispers to herself and you smile.

“It is,” You agree, stretching your legs in front of you and wiggling your toes, glad to be distracted by anything and everything that gets your mind off of last night. “He is a good guy. My favourite customer, actually. That’s uh, that’s how we met.”

“At the store? That is adorable!”

“Yeah, he reads… a lot,” That is the understatement of the century. “He was my first client when I opened up, and we kind of became friends and gotten closer. Then I kind of, uh, started apartment sitting for him, whenever he was away at work and we just–“

“Oh, what’s the apartment like?”

“It’s… beautiful,” You mumble, looking around with a small smile playing on your lips. “The walls are this pretty shade of green and it’s really cozy? Books all around. I like it here.”

“Here?” Oh no. “Wait, are you at his house right now?”

“Yeah,” You mumble, picking the lose threads on the socks you borrowed, one blue and the other purple with polkadots. For the life of you, you couldn’t find matching pairs in his sock drawer. “I’ve been here a lot, lately.”

“Is he out of town?”

“No.” The silence that follows speaks volume, and for the first time ever, you realise that your mom might not be just worried. She scared, too; for the daughter she saw so happy one day and then moving cities the next. “Mom?”

“I– I’m happy for you, sweetie,” Her words are kind, but the edge of hesitation is there. “And you’re not going too fast, right? You said you’ve known him since you opened the store, so that’s a year and something, and–“

The assumption that you are repeating the same mistake you’ve make with Josh annoys you. You’re not the same person you used to be, you’re not like that anymore– needy and blinded by love and all the shinny things it brought you. You’ve come a long way since then, and you know your mother recognises that, you do but… but you’re still embarrassed. Embarrassed about who you were. About who you loved. It’s a bit ridiculous, how whenever one of your parents bring him up, you immediately raise your defences, walls coming up so high you can’t even see over the green field of life that awaits you on the other side.

“Mom,” You wince when your voice comes out a bit too harsh. “Sorry. Mom, I’m fine. We’re… nothing. I’m here because… because a pipe burst in my apartment and he was kind enough to let me stay at his place.”

“Oh! Oh, I’m sorry sweetie, I didn’t mean to– I mean, I’m glad you have someone to help you out when we’re so far away.”

“I wish you guys were here,” You whisper, slowly getting up to move to the living room. You immediately sit down in the armchair, grabbing your blanket and covering yourself. If you couldn’t hug your mom, this would have to do. “You’d love him.”

“Yeah? Is he handsome?”

“So handsome,” You giggle, and it’s an instinct, looking to the side table in search of that familiar frame of Spence and his team at a fancy dinner. You love his smile when he’s happy, so wide and taut that it almost looks like he has too much emotion in proportion to his body. “And he’s so kind, mom. He’s kind, and gentle, and oh so smart. A genius, really.”

“Of course he has to be a genius to keep up with you and the hundreds of books you read in a year,” Her reply is comical when you think about it. The idea of Spencer having trouble keeping up with you, and not the other way around, makes you laugh. “So why do you sound so sad, if he’s such a great guy? He’s treating you good, right?”

“He treats me amazingly, it’s just that… we kissed last night.”

“And it was bad?” Her teasing makes your shoulder relax enough until you are melting onto the chair. “That’s why you’re sad?”

“Mom! No!” Cringing, you hug the throw pillow closer. “It was great. Amazing, even! It’s just that it was our first kiss and then this morning he just… didn’t do it again.”

“Oooohhh, I see what’s going on,” She chuckles. “You expected him to talk about this and he didn’t, did he?”

“How do you know?”

“Because you dad was the same way–“

“Oh gross, no, no, no!” You refuse to fall onto this freudian trap. “I’m not dating my dad!”

“Wait, so you guys are dating? Is this you telling me you have a boyfriend?!”

“No!” Groaning, you know you’re between a rock and a hard place. There is no escape anymore, and you have to come clean. “I don’t know! We kissed, but then he didn’t talk about it this morning and he just left like nothing happened, and and– and yesterday, he didn’t even say he likes me! I’m too old to be on this whole will-they-won’t-they thing, mom! I need verbal confirmation!”

“Well, have you asked him? Or told him how you feel? Or tried to start a conversation?”

Squinting at the phone, you huff, incredulous at her insinuation. Her correct insinuation. “Mother! Whose side are you on?”

“Always yours,” Your mother laughs. “Which is why I’m saying talk to him. If he won’t start the conversation, do it yourself. I raised an independent young woman, and this is the perfect time to prove it.”

You wait a second before sighing. “I’m scared.”

“Of what, sweetie?”

“Of everything. Of what happened before. Of it happening again.”

“Y/N,” Your mother say and suddenly you think you’re about to get scolded through the phone. “You can’t be afraid of your future because of one mistake you made in the past, sweetheart. I– I’m sorry we didn’t notice. I’m your mother, I should’ve noticed, I should’ve said something, and I’m never going to make that mistake ever again. So I’m saying something now. You haven’t sounded this excited about pretty much anything in a while. You… You sound like how you used to be. But better.”

“Mom,” There is no one to witness the way your lower lip trembles at her words. Back then, you thought you were doing a good job keeping your parents safe from it all– you thought you were good at hiding the tiredness with makeup and the miserable tone of your voice with sweet high pitched laughter. None of your parents ever talked about what was happening, either. They didn’t ask questions like how your mom does now; they didn’t see past the beautiful necklaces, the pretty dresses, and the important parties. They were blinded, much like you were, with the fake promises of a happiness that never came. And now here you are, scared out of your mind to jump into this again, and yet, everything fades away when your mom guarantees you she’ll never let this happen again. As grown as you are, nothing reassures you more than your mom– your biggest fan and your biggest protector.

“I’m scared too,” She whispers, like she’s telling you her biggest secret. “I’m scared my baby will hurt again and I won’t be there to help. I’m scared I’ll never be able to visit. I’m scared about a lot of things when it comes to you, sweetie. But I prefer to focus on the silver linings.”

Ah. So that’s where you get if from. “And what are the silver linings here?”

“You being you,” It’s as simple as that for her. “And that’s all I really want.”

For about an hour, you two stay on the phone, chitchatting about the randomise things. It’s no secret that you miss New York– the bustle of people, the endless lights, the pollution and its grey hue in the air. God, you miss it a lot, but what you miss the most is the ease of everything. Moving around is quick, whatever you need you just need to turn the corner and a deli will surely have it, and, above all, whenever you want to see your mom and dad, all you have to do is take the express from the Upper east side down to Midtown and you’re there. You’re at the same small apartment you grew up in, the same brick walls, the same loud neighbours, hell, even your room still looked the same as you left it! But that’s not what you need right now, even though you would love to see your old room with such new eyes… what you need is that feeling of warmth spreading through your chest when it dawns on you that you are home.

“Mom, I have to go,” You finally say. “But let’s talk more often, okay? I miss you and dad a lot.”

“We miss you too, sweetie. I love you.”

“Love you too,” Hanging up the phone is harder than you expected it to be, but you don’t have a lot of time to suffer in silence.

Spencer is a man who naturally avoids all forms of technology. He is not the biggest fan of computers and cellphones, and whenever he texts you or calls you, you feel like you’re winning in life. You’re the exception to his firm, firm rule. But for work purposes, he had explained, he had to be reachable at all hours, meaning Spencer has something you haven’t see in ages– a landline phone. When it starts ringing, that nostalgic loud, shriek of a ring that never fails to make you feel like you’re about to have a heart attack.

Instinctually, you reach for it as if you are the one expecting a call. It would be so easy to just pick up the phone and say Dr. Reid’s residence, how may I help you? Yet, you don’t. You stop yourself just as the tips of your fingers touch the phone and you pull back. This is exactly what happened last time– a box for him and the consequences ending up being yours to face. Since then, you’d like to think you’ve grown smarter, and so you let it go to voicemail.

“Hello, Dr. Reid, this is Nurse Kenny from Bennington Sanitarium. I’m calling about your mother.”

Somehow, this still feels like facing the consequences for something you didn’t do.

—————————————

In your defence, you did try calling Penelope before panicking. You called her, you called Spencer, you even called the BAU hotline in a feverish desperation to reach your boy wonder. All the hurt from that morning, all the pain and the insecurities immediately fly out the window as soon as the nurse hangs up with a final call me when you can.

“Fucking hell,” You push your way through the crowd trying to make out of the subway station, everyone rushing through the steps to finally be set free in the loud streets of Washington, and if it was any other day, you might have taken the time to enjoy it. The sun is high, the air is cold, and the smell of coffee reaches you almost instantly.

But there is not time to be happy when all you can think about is Spencer– his face crumpling up in that way it does whenever it goes uncharacteristically serious, his brows furrowed in worry, his hands frozen in place like the rest of his body. It kills you being the deliverer of bad news. It’s something you have always tried to avoid, ever since you were a tiny little girl and you had to tell your friends that no, you didn’t like My Little Ponies and then later on that also no, you didn’t want to go to that party. The disappointment in their faces always makes you crumble, give in, give up, anything to see them smile again.

This time around, you can’t do that. You can’t give up, or tell him something he wants to listen to instead. This has to do with his family, and you don’t know anything about his family– so you know they mean a lot to him. Oddly enough, it’s one of his little weird habits that you find the most endearing; for someone that talks a lot, when it comes to the people he loves, Spencer doesn’t talk at all. Maybe this is the price to pay to work at the BAU… when the most despicable and inhumane people in the world know his name, he has to do everything in his power to not let them find out any other.

“Ma’am, where do you think you are going?!” The security guard approaching you is, to say the least, terrifying. You forget that you have to sign up, so uses to walking in with Officer Kaper and his badge, except this time around, you didn’t have time to call him. You did everything Spencer told you not to do, and he will lecture you on it later, you just know he will, though you don’t really care about it, as long as he talks to you after this, you don’t care about what words come out of his mouth.

Because sure, it was an accident– listening to the nurse’s message was an accident– but you still did it. There is no hiding it, you did it and my god, you feel terrible about it. Feels like something akin to looking through his phone while he is in the shower, close to searching through his letters at home, similar to reading through the annotations in his books. This is private. It wasn’t enough to be living at his apartment? Sleeping in his bed, stealing his clothes? You also had to go ahead and listen to his private messages? “I’m here to see Dr. Spencer Reid,” You say, lower lip trembling at the thought of a possible confrontation with this man. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, but it’s urgent, I need to see him, I need to talk to Spence, he’s not picking up his phone and–“

“Do you have a form of identification? You have to sign in,” When he takes a step closer, you immediately shrink back, shoulders hunching forward in a tense attempt to cover yourself from his eyes.

“Of course, yes, I’ll… sign in, but can you– I’m so sorry, but can you call Penelope Garcia? She is the BAU’s tech analyst, I think. She has a lot of computers and–“

“Get in line.”

It’s an order more than a request, and you consider telling him to fuck off. Your nerves are high and you feel a sense of urgency that you have only felt one time before in your entire life– and that was when you moved to D.C. The thing no one tells you about signing in into the FBI is that is practically impossible. People like to think that all you need is a government issued ID, and technically, they are right– there is nothing else you can provide them other than you driver’s license, but the hoops they have to go through to grant you access add another ten minutes or so onto the wait that is already killing you.

Until the clerk says, “Here you go, ma’am,” And gives you your visitor’s pass like it’s nothing.

Like it doesn’t hold the weight of the world for you then, as you shove it into that stupid guard’s face and runs to the far left end of the hallway. At this point, you’ve been at the building enough times to know how to get upstairs, but despite the faint familiarity of it all, you continue to feel displaced and singled out whenever those beige walls surround you. Your oversized cream sweater is like a beacon of light in such a dim office, but it serves its purpose to keep you warm against the powerful air conditioner in there. How Spencer gets anything done under those circumstances, you don’t know, but the shivers travelling up and down your arms are enough to keep you alert and on the look out for the most likely presence to see– your favourite bright pink, bleached blonde geek.

“Excuse me, can I help you?” He’s wearing a suit, much like the ones Agent Hotchner wears and you have to hold back tears. It’s all very intimidating, knowing that at any point one of these people could find you suspicious and start asking you questions.

“Uh, y-yeah, I guess you can,” Clearing your throat, your hand squeeze the shoulder of your bag tighter, and when his eyes move to look at the slight movement, you know he’s a part of the BAU. You know he’s reading you like Spence does. “I need to find Dr. Spencer Reid,” Saying his full name still feels odd to you. “Could you maybe tell me where he is?”

“Oh? Reid?” This expression you know– surprise. “Are you his girlfriend or something?”

“His girlfr– I uh– I mean, I–“ It takes a moment for you to realise that if you say no, then you have to explain to this stranger what you really are to Dr. Reid, and that is a can of worms you rather not open right now, so instead of being honest like you always try to be, you blush and nod. “I uh, yeah. I am.”

“Oh wow!” His genuine shock to the news ticks you off a little. It’s not all that crazy that Spencer would have a girlfriend, considering his charming awkwardness and his bright, beautiful smile. “He never mentioned a girlfriend before, I didn’t–“

“Is he here or not?!” You kind of shriek, widening your eyes in hopes to make him pity you enough to move on with this a bit faster.

“No, he isn’t. I think his team just left for the tarmac, they got a case in this morning and–“

His voice fades to the background easily, your anxiety peaking through with that annoying ringing in your ear. Spencer left to another state and didn’t call you. Logically, you know that his job and his feelings for you, however good or bad they might be, are not connected. Logically, it is easy to make that distinction. However, you are not a logical person all the time. You are not a genius like he is, and sometimes, you let your heart lead; you let your emotions take over like a tsunami inside of you, crashing and crashing and crashing, until you are nothing but a crumble of what you once was.

You are ready, too. Ready to give up and delay the inevitable until the nurse can reach him directly, until you’re not the one having to panic, until he can deal with this personally. Consider it an addictive habit of a you of many moons ago, a Y/N who let things go to protect herself and avoid unnecessary confrontation. Confronting Josh was never the best option, so you had to come up with strategies. Plans, schemes, lies. You hate that you’ve become good at those, hate that all the work you’ve done to leave those behind is now at risk, but something deep inside of you can’t let this go.

Something that you know very well is the need to make Spencer proud. The need to be there for him after all the times he was there for you. It’s your time to be the hero.

“Call Hotchner.”

There is a harshness in your voice that is very much planted there. The same goes for the twitch of your brows, the bite to the inside of your cheek, the averting gaze to the floor. It’s time to tell the story the profiler wants to read, and you double down when you let out an exasperated sigh, pushing your disheveled hair back. “I need you to call Hotchner and get Spencer back here right now.”

You shouldn’t want to laugh with how he fumbles with his phone, quickly dealing the boss’ number, but all amusement is gone when he mumbles something about an Spencer’s girlfriend and passes the phone to you. “He wants to talk to you.”

“Oh god… hello?” You say, voice wobbling a little.

“Miss Y/L/N?” In the background, you can hear some chatter and nothing else. Are they in the jet already? Have you failed? “Is everything alright? Why are you in the office?”

“I am truly sorry, sir,” You gulp down, glancing at the man in a silent request for some privacy. “But I need to speak to Spencer. He is not answering his phone and it’s an emergency. Penelope wasn’t answering either, so I thought I could come find her, but SSA Greenberg asked me if I needed help and–“

“Is that why you told him you were Spencer’s girlfriend?”

“Family emergency trumps everything,” You explain, the heavy weight of you guilt settling in. For some reason, you think you got Spencer in trouble.

“Miss Y/L/N, is this about your case? We explained that we would have cases alongside–“

“Sir, it’s his mother. I don’t know the details, but there was a call and they asked him to call them back as soon as possible.”

The eery silence that follows has you holding your breath. You are not sure how much his team knows about the intricacies of his personal life, but they surely know more than you do, considering the immediate rustle you hear on the other side of the line.

“We’ve just arrived at the tarmac. I’m sending send Reid and Garcia back to help us from there,” Agent Hotchner says, voice dripping with authority. “Wait for him there. Tell Officer Kaper he will be relived as soon as Reid arrives.”

“Office Kaper is… not here.”

“…We will discuss this later. They should be arriving in twenty.”

“Okay. Okay, good,” You breathe out loudly. “Thank you, sir.”

Once the call ends, once you give SSA Greenberg his phone back and evade all the questions he has about you and Spencer, once you push down the wave of relief that almost makes you fall to the ground… you make your way to Penelope’s office. You need credentials to walk into her lair, it’s not as simple as just opening a door– she is the gatekeeper of all things confidential, and you know not all people are authorised to walk in. The fact that this is the same woman who has invited you over for wine night and got so drunk she couldn’t stop talking about the one time she walked in on Morgan showering is actually insane. The Penelope you know can’t keep a secret for her life, but then again, this is not Penelope’s office. This is Garcia’s lair, and you need to remember that these are fundamentally two different people. Just like Spence and Dr. Reid. JJ and Jennifer. Prentiss and Emily. All of them had managed a level of separation that seemed practically impossible to you, leaving work outside of their homes in a perfectly packed box by the door. It makes you wonder, though, if when he walks out the door to go to the office, he leaves you behind in a box inside.

Compartmentalising is not something you did well. You tried, back when you first arrived in Washington, at the recommendation of your therapist, but you seemed to struggle more than normal. At your core, you believe in honesty, in transparency, and despite everything you’ve been through, you never gave up on yourself, on your core self, not the self you’ve created to appease Josh. Though you did forget about her, for a while. Distracted by your new life, you missed your old self like you miss old high school friends; remembering the good old times but still doing nothing to reach out.

Just like you told your mom, you’re scared it will happen again. That you’ll lose yourself in the beautiful world of Spencer Reid and lose sight of what matters– yourself. You might have learned this way later in life than you should have, but a relationship is a two way road and now you know that. Now, you want to know that, you want Spencer to show you that. There is a kind of romance in how he leaves books for you to read next to the armchair, a certain indication that he knows what you like. A type of care in how he buys the shampoo and conditioner you mentioned you liked one time almost eight months ago. This is where you are trying to meet him at, ordering the rare books he’s so desperate after through your unique contacts. Making him breakfast before work. Unfolding the corners of his books. Even though you express yourself better with words than actions, you don’t miss the way his eyes sparkle a little extra whenever he sees his coffee mug filled up for him first thing in the morning or how he always pretends to be caught off guard when you bring him a surprise book from the store. Spencer can read you like he has been born to do so, and yet, he still played along. For you, he’d always play along.

Which is why, when they found you sitting on the floor next to Garcia’s office, he plays along. “Are you more comfortable there than sitting on my desk?”

His casual tone shocks you a little bit. Scrambling to your feet, you meet him and Penelope halfway. “Spence!” You gasp, hands stretching out to touch him, feel him, ground him, anything. You just need to make sure he is paying attention, the hands on his biceps squeezing it slightly. “Spence, you need to call your mom! Something happened, and I tried calling you guys but you weren’t picking up, so I came here to tell you that you need to call her, you–“

“Y/N,” Spence whispers in that way that makes your heart speeds up. His eyes are stuck to yours, shinning with something you’ve seen before, something you’ve seen last night. “Y/N, my mom is okay. Hotch told me to call her as soon as he sent us back, she’s okay, everything’s been handled. Are you okay? Sweetheart, you’re sweating…”

Garcia’s gasp falls onto deaf ears as you and Spencer lose yourself in each other. “I was nervous,” You mumble, trying to pull away and dab at your forehead, but he’s on it. His hands catch you by the elbow and gently bring you closer into what slowly turns into a hug. “I’m so sorry, Spence, I didn’t mean to listen to the message, I swear I didn’t, I was just there and the machine–“

“I know,” He nods his head distractedly and gently wipes you clammy skin with the wrist of his sweater. “I know, Y/N, you don’t have to apologise. Thank you for coming all the way here to look for me just to tell me to call my mom. I truly appreciate it.”

“Of course I would,” There is something building between you two, a tension very familiar to you now that you’ve been watching it pile on for the past couple of weeks.

For Penelope, though, it is certainly news.

“OH MY GOD!”

Snapped out of the trance of those honeyed eyes, you turn to look at your blonde friend with a pale complexion. “Pen, no–“

“OH MY GOD, YOU TWO BONED!”

“What?! No! Absolutely not!” Spencer takes a step back from you like he’s suddenly troubled by thought of being that close to you, and you can’t really hide how your heart breaks a little at that.

“Yeah… apparently absolutely not,” You repeat, coming back down to your harsh reality since the bubble burst.

“What– What just happened?” She utters, but you don’t really give her a chance to develop her line of thought, grabbing the access card from her hand and swiping it through the reader to unlock her door. “Wait, wait, what–“

“I’ll stay here with Pen,” You say without looking back at Spencer. Your job here is done and until Officer Kaper can come pick you up, you know they won’t let you leave the building. “I’ll call Mike for a ride, so don’t worry about me going back alone. I–“

“He’s not here?” Spencer asks, looking around with that adorable confused frown of his. “Wait, Y/N, did you come here by yourself?! Didn’t we talk about–“

“No Spencer, we didn’t! We didn’t talk about a lot of fucking things, and then you left off this morning like you didn’t want to talk about it and, and, and I was panicking, okay?! You didn’t pick up the phone and I’m a big enough girl to take the subway alone!” Your voice certainly raises enough to have people looking at you two, and your cheeks fire up in embarrassment. You are causing a scene at his workplace, and in your opinion, that is unacceptable. Gulping, you look down, tugging Penelope into her sacred space and closing the door behind you. “I’m sorry. That was out of line. I’m really sorry.”

“Y/N, wait–“ But the door closes midway through his sentence and despite him having access to enter, he knows better than to press on a sore spot.

The worst part is that you kind of want him to. And you hate that part of yourself that wants such a reactive behaviour from this peaceful man. Spencer does plenty to show you he cares, even if he does it in his own quiet, subtle way, and that is enough for you. Fuck, that should be enough for you. Yet somehow, nothing seems to shut up that voice in your head telling you that yes, he is enough… but you aren’t. In your overthinking mind, you know that you are too average for Spencer. You’d never be able to keep up with him, with his spectacular brain and his humble attitude. At best, all you offer him are books, some observations here and there, and a warm body to hug at night. At worst, you’re a burden to a man who already carries the entire world on his shoulder.

“You two?!” Penelope’s dramatic gasp is enough to put a pause on your pity party. “Boy genius and you?!” Scoffing, you sit down on the chair she pulled for you. “I know… sounds ridiculous, right? I mean, the man is a genius and I’m… well-read at best.”

“Oh, no. No, no, no, no, we’re not going there,” Barely does she know you’re already there, that you’ve been there this entire morning. “What happened? Last time we talked, it was a crush and nothing else! And now you and boy wonder are ‘sweetheart’ing each other and the forehead kiss was just so adorable and–“

“We kissed.”

The way it comes out to her, unlike how it did with your mom, is a confession rather than a posing issue. It makes your heart race and your sad face lifts for a second, enough to let a giggle escape. This is what friends are for, and you are happy to be living through this again.

“YOU WHAT?”

“Pen, don’t shout!” You whisper, looking at the door like it’s about to slam open at any second. “What if someone hears?” “Would that matter?” She laughed. “You basically told the biggest gossip in the FBI that you are Spencer’s girlfriend.”

“Oh my god,” You groan. Slowly getting comfortable in your chair, you pull your legs up to your chest and let your head fall on your knee dramatically. “He’s going to hate me.”

“Now why on Earth do you think that? I’m pretty sure Spencer has had wet dreams of you calling him your boyfriend.”

“Penelope!” It’s suddenly way too hot in her office, your entire body flushing instead of just your cheeks. “You are wrong, by the way… He had a whole dinner planned, you know? He was turning his apartment into the perfect date when I got back home, and he was cooking and he looked so good, Pen, so, so, so good and we just– I mean, it just happened! And then…”

Penelope is holding onto your every word, perfectly painted lips biting on her fluffy pink pen. “And then…?” Her wiggly brows are a dead giveaway of where her dirty, dirty mind is going.

“And then, just as we get to the room…” You repeat, leaning forward as if you’re about to tell her the biggest secret of your life, only to deflate right after. “He pulls away, kisses me on the forehead, and goes to sleep.”

“No!”

“Oh yeah,” You sigh, body crumbling in a defeated lump of limbs. “And then this morning? Nothing. Nada. Not even a peck on the lips as a ‘good morning’.”

“Oh wow,” She says after a moment. You find some comfort in how she seems as wordless as you were early today. “Oh wow, that’s… wow. It’s impressive, but it’s not shocking. Still, it’s… wow.”

“Not shocking?” You shriek. “It’s very shocking!”

“Oh, sweet pumpkin,” There is so much comfort in the clicks and clacks of her heels when she gets up and comes to give you a hug. Admittedly, Penelope’s hugs are much like one of a mother; warm, caring, and all encompassing. It’s enough to heal wounds you didn’t even know you had, like she is searching your soul the same way she searches the web for evidence– with expertise. “I sometime forget you’ve never known little boy genius when he was, well, little. Our pretty boy over there is not… the best with people.”

“That’s mean, Pen,” You sigh, frowning a little. He might not say much about his feelings, and sure, sometimes Spencer is quite reserved to his own mind in a way that makes you think he assumes people won’t really understand what’s going on up there, but never has Spencer made you feel uncomfortable or bad about yourself. Saying he is ‘not the best with people’ actually upset you because despite a couple of hiccups here and there, Spencer is great with you. He remembers everything you say you like or dislike, he cares about your opinions even though sometimes you feel like you’re just saying the obvious, he is gentle with his touches and hugs. “Spencer is amazing, he’s always so careful with everything and everyone, and he’s so kind, and gentle, and considerate. He’s just too in his head sometimes, but that’s okay! So am I, so is everyone, you know?”

“It’s so cute how you’re quick to jump to his defence,” She teased, shaking you a little by the shoulders. “I know he’s all of that, trust me. I would die for Spencer– no, that’s too easy. I would kill for Spencer, and I actually almost did once! And–“

“Wait, what?!”

“And what I’m trying to say is not that he is a bad person, but that he can get a bit awkward. Try to think from his perspective, Y/N, the kid went to college when he was 14. All those crazy life experiences we had in college, he didn’t. And then he joined the FBI, and time just… got away.”

“Are you trying to tell me Spencer Reid is a virgin?” You gasp, mouth hung open in surprise, because from the little action you two had going last night, you would not have betted on that.

“God, no… or at least I don’t think so, but what I am trying to tell you, my cute bookworm, is that his experience is… limited to a couple of people. Very different people. One of his exes was a famous actress kind of people. They did long distance every single time kind of people.”

Little by little, the engines in your brain start turning, and things start making sense. “He never… had a proper relationship?” Somehow, this makes it feel like all that weight that is sitting on your chest, the pressure of figuring everything out by yourself, the racing thoughts that can’t leave you alone… it’s all gone. All easing up in a lighter mist of confusion and sadness.

Her curls bounce around her face when she shakes her head. “Not that we’ve known. So just… god, please give him a chance. He’s a good egg, a perfect egg, even! Just a bit confused with his own brain and, and, and he’s probably wondering what’s the proper procedure from here on out! He’s probably confused and wondering what to do and– and he’s so happy, Y/N. This morning, he couldn’t stop smiling. He didn’t tell

Morgan to shut up when he made sex jokes. He didn’t hog the coffee machine. It was like he was in his own little world and it was so cute to see him finally acting like the boy he should have been all along. I don’t want to see that go away.”

Penelope Garcia has a tell that you are pretty sure she doesn’t know about. It usually peek through her desperate rambles that you love so much, squeezing her voice out of her until she’s barely speaking. You know she’s self-conscious about her rambles, the amount of times she has apologised to you enough proof of it, but when she starts feeling guilty, like she’s staying something she shouldn’t have been, Penelope’s voice dies down, to the point that her mouth is moving but no sound is coming out.

“Pen…”

“I know you like him,” The intensity of her eyes behind her glasses is enough to have you looking away. “I know you do, you like him so much that you broke your security protocol and ran to the FBI to tell him that he needed to call his mom. Please don’t give up on him.”

“I’m not,” You whisper back, shaking your head so fast your neck hurts a little. “Pen, I’m not giving up on him, I don’t think I ever could. I’m just… insecure. I understand Spence’s experience is unique to him, but mine is unique to me, and I think we’re both in the learning process. I just wish he would’ve talked to me, you know? Spencer kissed me like there was no tomorrow yesterday and this morning he didn’t even acknowledge it. What if he doesn’t want to do it anymore? What if he changed his mind? You know, his brain works too fast and he could’ve thought about all the future scenarios in which this goes wrong and–“

“You know, sometimes you two sound so much alike that it’s scary. I’ll tell you the same thing I told him, get your head out of your ass, it’s not a hat.”

“Hey!”

“Your intrusive thoughts are shitty!”

“That is a really weird way to put it–“

“What are you two talking about?” Turning to look at Spencer, you’re surprised to see him all packed up with his satchel hanging by his side. You deflate a little at how ready he is to leave, thinking he’s going back to the tarmac to meet up with the team wherever they are, but he beats you to the punch. “Y/N, ready to go home?”

“Oh,” You scramble to get up, grabbing your bag and your visitor’s pass and then nodding. “Yeah, I guess. Are you coming with?”

“Yeah, I told Hotch I’d be working from home in case my mom’s nurse called again,” He gives you that tight-lipped smile you love so much and you kind of swoon.

“Alright,” You give Penelope a hug goodbye and from then on, you find yourself in the longest stretch of silence you’ve ever been before.

The tension is there, taut enough that you feel like your stomach is being pulled out of your body every time he sucks in a breath a bit too hard or opens his mouth just to close it again. Every time, you think he’s going to initiate the chat, and, every time, he doesn’t. It disappointment after disappointment, and by the time you two make it back to his place, yo can’t keep it in anymore. “Spence,” You call softly, letting him open the door the the building without rush and following him inside. As per usual, he’s quick to let you lead, gesturing politely for you to go up first. “Spence, we need to talk about last ni– Abigail, what are you doing here?”

You’re not even at the top of the stairs when you see her, all sweaters and ponytails standing by your door. “Oh, hi boss!” Her joke makes you cringe a little, but you smile nonetheless. You must’ve done something to alert Spencer of how uncomfortable you actually are, his hand sneaking to grab yours as he squeezes past you to stand one step above, body almost covering yours completely. “Oh. Hi.”

Her tone change is obvious even to your layman ears, and you squeeze Spencer’s hand in nervousness. “Abigail, right?” He asks, a small smile playing on his lips as if he’s trying to be nice, though the squint in his eyes tells a whole other story. “Good to see you again. Did you move in okay?”

“Yeah,” The way she moves her head to the side, trying to get a glimpse of you, has red flags raised all up in your head. “All moved in and ready to start work on Monday!”

“I’m happy to hear you’re excited, Abigail!” You reply with a forced chuckle, climbing the extra step to stand side by side with Spence. Your hands are intertwined behind his back, his fingers playing with yours, and if it’s to keep you calm or himself, you don’t know. “I’m excited for you to start at the store, too. Is there anything you need, though? I know I said I’d send you a starter email and a draft of a schedule, but I just haven’t had the time today. I’ll work on it as soon as I can!”

“Oh, no, no, no hurry!” Once she can see you, it’s like her whole persona changes. She’s bubblier when she’s talking to you, shoulders less tense and voice less tense. “I was just coming here to bring you this. It got delivered to my apartment by accident, but it has your name on it.”

From behind her back, she pulls a brown package. It’s small and thin, and it doesn’t seem so have any logo on it. “Y/N, are you expecting something?” Spencer whispers, eyes not leaving Abigail’s hand and for a second you let yourself panic enough to believe she’s carrying a bomb. It felt like she was carrying a bomb. Like it was going to blow up and your entire life, your entire re-construed life with Spencer by your side, and everything would soon come crumbling down.

“N-No,” You stutter back and your body goes frigid cold when Abigail takes a step forward to you two, arms stretched out to give you the package. “Oh my god, no, no, no one knows I’m–“

Quickly grabbing the box, Spencer wastes no time in getting you inside the apartment. “Thank you so much for bringing this, Abigail, but we really have to get home. As promised, you’ll hear from Y/N soon on that starter email. Have a great rest of your day!”

“Wait, I wanted to talk to Y/N about–“ The loud slamming of the door drowns her words out.

Before even looking your way, Spencer is on the phone. “Hotch,” He breathed out, eyes wide in that crazed way that you’ve only see once before, in your shop when he had his gun out. “She found Y/N.”

You know you can’t call this an ending, not when you two never even had a begging…

“We have to relocate her.”

But it surely feels like one.

---------------------------------------

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