#spencer probably being insane
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Listening to the Hades soundtrack and, please, tell me if the David Tennant brainrot is taking over, but don't some of the tracks have a very weird Doctor Who-ish vibe to it?
Give it a listen
Please tell me I'm not going bananas
#hades#hades game#david tennant#doctor who#spotify#darren korb#spencer probably being insane#whos surprised
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you: nicholas alexander chavez, the actor from ryan murphy's recent work
me, a mama's girl and daytime tv viewer:
#text post#general hospital#nicholas alexander chavez#spencer cassadine#sorry i'm still not over my shock at this lol#i remember asking my mom MONTHS ago (she follows general hospital news online) 'hey wheres spencer i havent seen him in awhile?'#'oh his character died off. the actor is doing some netflix show where he plays a murderer'#and you have to understand. i dont consume anything to do w true crime. but to my 63-year-old mother. ryan murphy doesnt exist#so bc of just how self-contained the archaic institution of network soap operas are. i just. idk i didnt assume it was a big role#it didnt register to me that it was the sequel to the dahmer show. is what i am saying. and i never thought about it again#mommy made it sound like he might be coming back bc soap opera characters fake-die all the time#and so i put the thought out of my head until completely independently i was watching a video about monsters: menendez being flawed#and i was like. going absolutely insane w how familiar he looked i was like 'ok i know that man cant be too famous but i KNOW him'#'i know him from something and i know him WELL from something. like whatever hes from is iconic to me'#and then the video creator said his name and i was like THATS INSANE WHERE DO I KNOW THAT NAME??!?!??#it's a name i read in the credits but probably never thought in my head at all bc sorry he's just spencer to me#so i googled it and i was gobsmacked. i was like MOM DIDNT SAY he was gonna be in THIS SHIT!?!?!?#i also do lay my life down on the defense that the cinematography of a prestige netflix drama makes him less recognizable to me#who knew him best under cheap soap opera lighting in basic back and forth dialogue shots. like#i have to be honest i never cared for his looks on gh bc he just kinda looked like too perfect. like he looked like a mannequin#i see it now though i get it#i get why he's very fan editable to the true crime girlies i get it#not that it matters. im just in mourning bc it never occurred to me the spencer era was over. i actually liked his character#i cant tell u why bc he wasnt all that distinguishable from all the other basic dramatic character archetypes. idk it was a good performanc#i cant explain to u what makes a soap opera character distinct while still being completely generic (they all are)#i also liked his relationship w his girlfriend in the show it was cute. he was evil but they were sweet#nicky please come back. im begging u. as your only general hospital era fan who is your age#i dont wanna watch monsters menendez i reeeeeally dont
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mods are asleep. post mightywolf
#venturiantale#taleblr#mightywolf#spencer is a freak btw. hes not normal#being a teenager and being in love with someone is one of the most cringe things that can ever happen to you#being in love feels like being insane#maybe im just an obsessive weirdo and protecting as always... probably that.#images that are horrid to see and look at#mspaint#spencer acachalla#mabeline#mabeline wolf#jonah wolf#i meant projecting btw idk why i typed protecting..im tired
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just peeped the first episode of school spirits on paramount.....i fear my theory is correct, spencer macphersons career peaked with the role of hunter hollingsworth
#this sounds very mean i think spencer is a very talented actor#but the few times ive sought out content w him in it he just plays a generic hot guy with Hints of 'cool loner'#theyve never been able to compare to his time on degrassi#im probably just biased but hunter hollingsworth is just so amazing hes hilarious and over the top and unhinged#ive just attached that mans face to the absolutely deranged actions of the character he played in degrassi#so everytime i see him in something new i just get upset when hes Not hunter#but tbh his talent is being wasted when he plays generic hot guys#he shines as a completely deranged freak. he put his everything into making hunter as offputting and weird as possible#now i cant make too many judgements based solely on the pilot of school spirits#but i checked out like half of astrid and lily bc he was in that#and his character in SS and A&L are near identical😭😭😭 MAKE THAT MAN INSANE !!!!!!!#he needs to find better roles or else im afraid his career peaked with degrassi next class season 1 episode 10#actually the one role i saw him in that compared to the glory of hunter hollingsworth#was this short film he did w jamie bloch where his character was literslly just Hunter but he was a drug dealer and said swears#it almost compared to the real thing but it wasnt enoigh to help me cope w the loss of unhinged hunter post-NC3
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let you lock me down (tonight) | spencer reid x reader
You'd never really thought about having kids, but Spencer just might change your mind.
wc: 600, rating: explicit/18+
tags: breeding kink (this is the whole premise of the fic. oops?), talk of having kids/pregnancy, established relationship, fem!reader, set in s10-11
a/n: no reason for this other than the fact that sabrina carpenter's juno is one of my fav songs off the short n' sweet album. also i was probably ovulating when i started this drabble sorryyyy
You know Spencer had wanted kids since you first got together.
It hadn’t come up until a few dates in, where Spencer had been a little late to dinner because he was helping to watch over his colleague’s kid. He’d talked for half the night about how much he adored her kid as his godfather, with his colleague having a second one on the way, and how he wanted to be a dad someday.
You would’ve found it more creepy if you weren’t extremely endeared. Spencer was undeniably loving, caring, and impossibly sweet, and dating him was easy. Being with Spencer is easy. You get him, and he gets you.
You know Spencer wants kids, and that’s why when you mention it you’re not surprised by how he reacts.
It just happens to be in the middle of sex.
“Fuck, baby,” you giggle, Spencer being extremely eager as he pushes into you. “You’re so needy. It’s like you wanna put a baby in me.”
Spencer chokes, his hips stuttering at your filthy words, and it just pushes him deeper into your tightness. “Oh, my God.”
“Does that sound good? You filling me up with your cum until it takes?” you moan, as Spencer rolls his hips into you. It shoves his thick cock deeper inside of you, bullying his way past your tight walls.
“You make me sound like an animal,” Spencer complains, but his breathlessness tells you that he’s into it. He’s still fucking into you – hard, eager, desperate.
“You could fuck me like an animal,” you swoon, just a little, rather pleased with yourself and the fact that Spencer is so into this, so into you. “Wanna claim me as yours?”
Spencer laughs, shaking his head. “You’re going to be the death of me.”
“Not before you get me pregnant,” you tease, waggling your eyebrows. “Come on, you know you want to.”
”You are literally insane,” Spencer says, stilling his hips. They’re pressed flush against you, but he looks down at you sternly. “Are you being serious right now?”
You purse your lips, considering Spencer’s own concerned look. “Kind of?”
”Kind of?” Spencer parrots back. “Be more specific.”
”Maybe I just wanna enable your breeding kink,” you smirk, locking your legs around Spencer’s waist. The movement pushes him inside of you a little deeper, and he whines.
Spencer rolls his eyes, half exasperated and half endeared. “I don’t have a breeding kink.”
“You do, baby,” you giggle. “And getting pregnant wouldn’t be so bad.”
Spencer’s eyes are so wide they look like they could pop out of his skull. “You– You can’t just say things like that! And we are not having a conversation about family planning while I’m inside of you.”
”Now would be the perfect time to talk about having kids,” you offer, but Spencer glares at you.
Smiling, you wriggle your hips just to get a rise out of Spencer. It works, you note, as he whimpers with the movement. ”Okay, so after you’re done with me?”
“We’ve only been dating for three months,” Spencer says, furrowing his brows.
“I know,” you nod. “And I mean it. You— You make me want to. Consider kids, I mean.”
Spencer sighs, but you see the way his eyes soften, hear the warmth in his voice as he tries to seem normal and calm about all of this. “Okay. I’ll make you cum and then we can talk about kids.”
“Aww. How romantic,” you say, as Spencer leans forward to kiss you again, and to fuck you again.
While you’d never seriously thought about having kids, Spencer is certainly making you reconsider.
#criminal minds#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#spencerreidenjoyer writes#spencer reid smut#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid x fem!reader
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I’ve Got My Eye On You
Summary: Reader is a Special Surveillance agent assigned to spy on Spencer. He manages to see through her cover, and thoroughly enjoys the confrontation that follows.
Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader
Category: Smut
Content Warning: voyeurism, oral (f!receiving), unprotected penetrative sex, f!masturbation, slight dubcon regarding recorded sex, heavily based on that one scene in scandal, iykyk.
Word Count: 3.5k
Masterlist
I’d always been good at watching people.
My life had been spent mostly to myself, divulging the information people offered without even realizing. When you talk less, you learn that body language, passing remarks, or even the quirk of an eyebrow gives away more than anyone ever realized– maybe more than an actual conversation at times.
And I took it all in stride, not a single detail left unanalyzed. People were always surprised when I’d mention my observations, finding a way to explain a seemingly unexplainable situation, those around me wondering how on Earth I could’ve been privy to that. I’d always shrug at their queries.
Pay more attention, I guess.
It wasn’t a surprise that I’d ended up here, I suppose, in the end, as an Investigative Specialist for the FBI. I doubt that my listening skills were exactly what landed me the job, but I’d like to believe they contributed more than they actually did. Regardless, I’d never expected the result of the decisions I’d made over the years to lead to this– involved in spying on an agent of our own.
The infamous "Dr Reid".
His specific circumstances had been shrouded in secrecy and mystery, apparently having just been let out of prison. (Prison? How’s he an agent then? Anyway, not my problem).
The Bureau had been curious about erratic behavior on his part, and the string of discrepancies involving the unit he was involved in. Apparently, there had been multiple unforeseen and unprecedented events all occurring under the same team in a relatively small time-frame, and despite smaller investigations, nothing came out of them to warrant any real disciplinary action. Probably why they brought me in, in the hopes of changing that.
I’d been assigned to put up small, virtually undetectable cameras and listening devices within his apartment. 24/7 home surveillance, no exceptions. I couldn’t help but think that the guy really should invest in better apartment security, despite how easy his naivete made my job. His lack of caution surprised me, given the details I’d been given. For a guy who had a penchant for being framed by the ghosts of his past, he sure didn’t live like it. Even as an FBI agent, he essentially had no technology to counter my own, and the height of his protection was a standard deadbolt. Was he insane? Unaware, somehow? Only time would tell, I suppose. And I had plenty of that, to watch and deduce the nature of his mind on my own terms.
My time spent with Spencer resulted in one, overwhelming conclusion. Spencer Reid lived a relatively quiet life. His apartment was barely used, honestly, given the sporadic nature of his job. (Which was a shame, in my opinion, because it’s a nice apartment). When he was at home, he seemed to remain quite unassuming. The positions I’d see him assume often were that of being hunched over on an aging leather sofa, pouring himself into grading papers, or creating lesson plans for his students. Oh, right. Did I mention he was also a professor? He is. I’d assume he likes the job, given how much of himself he gives into it, or maybe that was just who he was as a person. I wasn’t sure yet.
I monitored his life outside of the apartment occasionally as well, just to see what intel I could gather with further investigation. There wasn’t much. Coffee shops. Book shops. Coffee. Books. Coffee- God, does the guy do anything else with his life?
Most days, though, I’d liken him to butter spread too thinly over toast. Sleepless from nightmares that would have him walking around his apartment until daylight broke through the window panes. I felt exhausted just watching the guy, and it seemed insane that he could continue to live on when he left that apartment at the break of dawn. It didn’t seem like he had anyone to talk to, honestly. From what I was seeing, he wasn’t a threat to the Bureau, just a sad, middle-aged man who’d been dealt the most unfair of hands in life.
I’m sure there’s a moral somewhere in all that. To waste your potential on something that gives so little back. Oh, well. My report was nearly finished at this point, and the most I could recommend the higher-ups was to get Spencer a better therapist, maybe. This one wasn’t really helping, it seemed. Besides that, his personal behavior wasn’t indicative of anything worrying to the interests of those managing him.
At long last, it was my final night of watching him. Coincidentally, the date lined up with Halloween, and I couldn’t be more thrilled to finally be free of this specific survey job. Don’t get me wrong, Spencer seemed nice- but God, his life was boring. I don’t want to say it was like watching paint dry, out of respect, but previous targets had offered at least some part of their life to be interested within. Spencer had nothing. No friends over, no gossip-like phone conversations, no drunk wanderings home. Nothing! I know he didn’t sign up to be watched, but God.
Like, come on. Give me anything here.
Needless to say, I’d become accustomed to the quiet, and this night was no different. If he was following schedule, he should be home right about … now.
Now?
Now…
Silence.
Spencer was definitely a creature of habit, so to not see him adhere to the routine he’d so meticulously stuck to in the past was a bit jarring, but I assumed he was just running late.
A few hours later, I reasoned he must be running really really late. It was bordering on midnight, and he still wasn’t home. I checked train schedules, possible reports of a car crash, just about anything that could keep him from his scheduled appearance at home.
I was just about to call my supervisor to look into whether or not he’d been called out on a surprise case, but that’s when the door of his apartment creaked open, and I felt my shoulders deflate in relief. Okay, he was home. He was going to go to bed and-
He wasn’t alone.
Spencer was dressed in all black, a leather belt adorned with a gold belt buckle being the only color his outfit brought. He wore tiny devil’s ears upon his head, the headband pushing down on the mop of curls that sat atop his head. He looked absolutely delicious, if I must say myself, and it seemed the woman in his arms would agree with me.
He practically pulled her into his apartment, kicking his door in with his leg before slightly fumbling with the lock. As soon as the mechanism slipped into place, his hands were all over her, pressing her flush against his body, as if he couldn’t bear to have any space between them.
For all the time I’d been watching him, none of his behavior indicated the presence of any kind of significant other, so this girl must be a stranger. If this is how Spencer treated strangers though, I was surprised he didn’t have a barrage of women lining up at his door every night.
His lips absolutely devoured the girl, his hand cradling the side of her face, before his thigh slipped in between her legs, possibly to soothe a building ache that had built up there in the time they’d spent together, which I found entirely possible, considering I, personally, was heated from simply watching.
I watched the pixels on the screen with such precision, innocuous shades of red, green and blue painting the most sinful of images. I found myself noting the way his hand snuck up the girls’ dress, the way her breathing hitched as she pulled back, watching as Spencer presumably played with her clit. I could feel myself squeezing my thighs together, recognizing just how wrong it was to be turned on by the scene in front of me, but I couldn’t stop myself. It wasn’t as if this was the first time a target had behaved sexually in front of me. (Or in front of the camera, I suppose.) I’d seen and heard just about anything you could think of, but this was different- in a way. To see Spencer so filthy, so confident, so- interesting. It lit a fire in me that burned with every passing moment he touched this girl.
I’m able to watch him circle over her panties in a way that has her groaning directly into his ear, a smug grin plastering his face as he watches her every reaction.
“Like that?” He murmurs, and I’ve never heard his voice so fucking deep.
She nods frantically, and it only serves to widen his grin. I can feel myself rocking slightly in my own chair, doing anything to try and soothe the fast growing arousal within me, unable to stop from imagining myself in her place. His hands, the feel of hot breath down my neck-
I’m stopped dead in my tracks, however, when his eyes suddenly shift to the camera closest to him, his eyebrow raising, as if in challenge. He continues to whisper in the girl’s ear, and has the galls to wink. I’m horrified, a very sudden and intense heat rising to my cheeks. I can only watch for a second more, before he’s suddenly pulling her away, and I realize he’s taken her within one of the only blind spots within the apartment.
I’m scrambling to turn off the feed, stunned into silence whilst, my heart beating uncontrollably and eccentrically. Oh god. He knew. He knew and he did that?!
I stare into the empty space, a multitude of thoughts inhabiting my brainscape. On one hand, the aplomb shown in that situation was commendable, since most people would react to the knowledge that they’d been secretly watched in their own home for the past few months in a much more hostile way. On the other hand, how did he even acquire that knowledge? The cameras were virtually undetectable, and he’d never let on that he was aware of their presence, and I’d know, considering how closely I’d watched him.
I shake off the thoughts, focusing on something other than the overwhelming mortification coursing through me now.
Alright, tomorrow, get into his apartment, remove the cameras, and hopefully never have to look at the man again. In any capacity, honestly.
When daylight broke, I turned on the cameras for the final time, a bit more sheepish, knowing he was aware of the devices plaguing his home. However, it seemed like he was once again pretending like he wasn’t aware of the looming existence of them, sending his female companion off her merry way once they woke up, before going about his normal routine, heading out of the apartment for what was most likely his morning coffee and then afternoon lecture at the university.
That was my cue. I turned off the cameras, quickly making my way out to sneak into his residence, the heavy door offering little resistance to my advances, my movements quiet and undetectable.
I’m in the process of removing the final camera I had placed in his bedroom, hidden behind a copy of The Sign of Four. Doyle. He had good taste, I could give him that.
I’m just about to turn around and get the hell out of there, when I hear a voice behind me.
“I noticed that one first, you know.”
I turn around slowly, embarrassed and slightly fearful to find Spencer’s eyes meeting mine. I’d watched him for so long, but seeing him now– his eyes were so beautiful. The camera didn’t do him justice.
He continues, despite the silence. “The other ones were harder to spot, I’ll give you that, but once I knew where they were, it was a bit obvious, don’t you think?”
I’m speechless. My mouth is agape, and all he seems to do is smile at my lack of prose.
“Don’t look so surprised. I know this apartment. I’m not here a lot, but I spend enough time to know when things have been shifted around.” His tone is cheeky, and he pauses, almost theatrically to add on:
“I’m sure you knew that though.” His smile turns into more of a smirk.
God, did he have to be so hot?
“Are you going to complain to the Bureau?” I manage out, keeping my eyes steady on him.
“Did you find anything of note to tell them?” He responds, tilting his head with curiosity.
I shake my head vehemently. “No, um. Nothing pertinent to say.” I get my words out in a hurry, my gaze continually trained on him.
He meets my eyes with the same stare. “Then I don’t have much of a reason to complain.”
I nod solemnly. I’m wondering where this situation will lead- what either of our next moves are. Before I can ponder long though, he surprises me and takes a step closer.
“I saw you, you know.” He says. “Thought I was going insane when the same pretty girl kept showing up at the bookstore and coffee shop out of the blue, but I’ve never been one to believe in coincidences.”
“Oh.” I whisper. I really wasn’t as good as I thought I was.
“You really shouldn’t beat yourself up.” He says, chuckling with some mirth. “Again, I’m observant. I notice these things. That, and you’re pretty.” He says, forward. “So, more of a reason to notice.”
“Oh.” I reply, yet again, dumbfounded by the events currently transpiring.
“Yes, oh.” He chuckles, before he starts to move closer yet again. “Tell me. Were you watching last night?” He murmurs, his voice dropping a bit deeper as he directly addresses the elephant in the room.
I give a movement of affirmation, because at this point, what could he do? What could I do?
“So you saw.” He mumbles, moving to position himself right in front of me, his eyes darkened and laser focused on my figure.
“Yes.” I whisper, my voice hushed as our proximity decreased, his breath fanning out over my face now. I’d be uncomfortable, if I wasn’t so distracted.
“Tell me.” He whispers, letting his calloused finger finally touch my skin, running down my neck. “Did it turn you on? Watching me with her?”
I feel the familiar heat of embarrassment rise to my cheeks, my eyes suddenly widening not only due to the sudden proximity, but also the scandalous nature of his words. Did he mean for me to watch? Was that his plan all along? What was this sick and twisted game he was playing?
“Did it.. get you off?” He whispers, his lips leaning in to kiss lightly at the side of my neck where his finger once was.
I freeze, leaning into his touch and going statue-like all at once. I can’t help the shakiness of my voice when I reply. “I.. wasn’t neutral.”
“Mm.” He murmurs, kissing now at my jawline. “Did you get off? When she did?” He whispers.
“I didn’t watch that long.” I reply, helplessly, as I feel his hands start to envelop my waist, pulling me closer to him.
“What a shame.” He mumbles. “I think you would’ve liked the show. I did it for you.”
At this point, I can barely speak, a slight moan escaping me instead of a coherent reply as his lips continue to leave warm, wet kisses on the expanse of my flesh.
“I’m sure you’re curious.” He says, his voice soft and seductive. “Would you like me to show you what we did?”
There’s no hesitation, finally, a resounding thought I can translate from brain-to-mouth for him, in complete certainty.
“Yes.” I manage out, breathlessly.
He makes a noise of satisfaction, quickly pushing me onto the bed.
“I’d already gotten her wet by touching her before, but if my suspicions are correct.” He murmurs, his hands working deftly to undo my jeans and feel the wetness that had accumulated in between my thighs. “You already are.” He finishes.
I let out a small whimper as his fingers touch the heated flesh, unable to help my sensitivity to his small, calculated strokes over my clit through my underwear. His fingers starts to move a bit more aggressively, upon feeling the wet patch that had formed there, the flimsy fabric doing little to hide the stickiness he was now collecting on his fingers. He quickly pulls them off as well though, bringing his slightly damp fingers to his mouth, tasting the hint of my arousal that had accumulated there. His eyes were dark, watching my face for any reaction, and in that moment, I know all he can see is pure want.
I can see the same hunger within his eyes, and I feel a rush of pride as the approval radiates off of him.
“What next?” I whisper, already desperate for his next slew of ministrations. I don’t care how needy I looked. I was needy. I’d spent so long watching him, and now he was here.
“She wanted my mouth.” He murmurs, kneeling at the edge of the bed. His thumb brushes over my clit, his tongue running against plump, pink lips, wetting them, watching over me with a predatory gaze.
Before I can respond, he’s suddenly everywhere, ducking his head and allowing his tongue to brush over my sex in broad, wet strokes. My response is immediate, my hips bucking up to meet him in a frenzied motion. It seems that he relishes in whatever control he can have in this situation, because he quickly holds down my hips in a firm grip, squeezing the fat there while he continued to ravage me.
I can barely look at him, pretty brown locks splayed in his face, his lips moving hypnotically against my cunt. Little whimpers escape me, absolutely aching for more. He seems to catch on, and flicks his tongue over me, before suckling against my clit. It’s wet, messy, and the picture of debauchery– and it’s enough to drive me over the edge, my hands gripping the sheets as I cry out his name.
He seems to be unaffected, getting off his knees, his mouth glistening with my release. The sight makes me wish he could do it again, but before I can get a word in, he’s positioning himself over me, caging me against the bed.
“Then I fucked her.” He whispers, starting to undo his belt with his free hand. “Can I?”
I nod, feeling a wave of anticipation, before registering the sensation of the head of his cock nudging my entrance. I feel my chest tighten, watching him with bated breath, absolutely exhilarated.
“Relax.” He whispers, kissing the lobe of my ear. “You’re in good hands.”
He utters the last word, before sliding into me, a hushed gasp leaving the both of us. He groans in pleasure, his eyes fluttering shut as he takes in the feel of my warm, wet cunt around him. He takes a moment, before he’s setting a steady pace, his hips bucking rhythmically into me in a way that’s designed to bring us both so much pleasure.
I can’t help the string of moans that come out with every slide of his cock inside me, my legs wrapping around his waist, urging him closer than he already is. My hands grip onto his shirt, clawing onto the fabric to find any purchase, wanting– no, needing him on me.
Is it odd to wish a stranger could crawl into your skin itself?
“Fuck, Spencer.” I moan, unabashedly. “You feel so good.”
“You do too.” He groans, his arms braced on either side of my head before gently lowering himself to crash his lips against mine in a messy kiss.
I can feel myself barreling towards release, as is he, if the twitch of his cock inside me were to mean anything. It’s not long before his hand reaches in between where our bodies are met, rubbing my clit in fast, small circles. It’s intense in the best way possible, my body barely being able to process how good it felt in the moment.
“Come for me.” He moans, in between kisses. “Wanna feel you around me. Please.”
I can’t help but obey his words, my cunt convulsing around him in obedience as he subsequently finds his release inside me, groaning loudly as his hips thrust erratically.
He pulls out, and we’re a tangle of limbs, sweaty and sated, breathing heavy.
Of course, it’s him, yet again, to break the silence.
“Two things.” He mumbles, breathlessly.
“Mm.” I reply, weakly, my head a mess of airiness and complacency after the orgasm he’d just brought me to.
“One. I want your name.” He says, rolling to his side to get a better look at my face.
“That can be arranged.” I murmur, nodding dreamily.
“Second.” He whispers, kissing my cheek. His voice takes on a teasing quality to it, before leaning to brush his lips against my ear.
“You missed a camera. Behind the plant. They don’t stop recording, do they?”
okay wowww. clearly this was meant for halloween, if you couldn't tell! this is one of those pieces where i'm like.. hmm .. do i like this? question mark? do i want to put it out? hmm .. but regardless, i hope you guys enjoyed it!! please, please like, reblog, and comment if you enjoyed!!! it is sooo important as an author that i get some feedback and know what you guys think, in any capacity. i truly appreciate all of it <33 thank you for reading, thank you for everything!!!
#spencer reid smut#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid criminal minds#doctor spencer reid#dr spencer reid#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x self insert#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds self insert#criminal minds#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid fluff#criminal minds imagine#criminal minds smut#criminal minds fic#criminal minds fanfic#criminal minds angst#criminal minds fandom#bau team#spencer reid fic#kinktober#kinktober 2024#Spencer reid kinktober
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use somebody 2 | spencer reid
part one here
summary; spencer dreaded the day he would see you with anything other than a frown on your face, when that day comes, spencer would do anything to bring your sweet smile back.
warnings; some mean police man being sexist and mean to fem reader, protective spencer, fluff, a little angst but like barley any, will there be a love confession??? read and find out!
an; idk im dying. thank u. mgg hand mention
Spencer wasn’t the biggest fan of the jet before you joined the bau. He didn’t have any particular issue with it, there was nothing he could really fault or use as an explanation as to why he wasn’t a big fan of it but it was just boring, he would read and then reread books, then try and sleep.
Then you joined the team and suddenly the jet was one of his favourite places, because you would sit next to him. You would ramble about a new show you were watching or a flower you had seen on the side of the road, and lately you would tell him about your dog. He would get to listen to you talk and get to watch you smile and flap your arms around as you got increasingly more excited as your ramble went on.
On the way home if you were feeling too tired to excitedly ramble about something random you would just sit next to him and let him ramble, the same excited smile on your face nonetheless as you paid the at most attention to whatever it was he was talking about, listening intently and asking questions almost as if you just wanted to keep him talking.
He didn’t mind.
Your plans to watch the documentary he recommended at your house were quickly ruined by the notice that you had a case that would take over the span of your weekend.You had apologised profusely to Spencer as if he didn’t technically cancel on you just as much as you did him. He didn’t mind, he got to spend time with you either way.
In a sort of twisted way, he preferred working a case with you. At least this way you were around him rather than spending your weekends around anyone else. He wondered if that was creepy and controlling and if he said it aloud it would probably end in him over explaining how he just hated the idea of anything happening to you, or you meeting someone else.
You were too kind, for anyone. Especially him.
Thats why he was immensely annoyed when the Police Sheriff of the station they were at in Louisiana, decided to nit-pick every little thing you did. He wondered if the Sheriff was just insanely insecure or if maybe it was a gender issue.
He settled on the latter when the comments ended up going towards Emily, and JJ as well. Just a little bit more towards you, maybe because regardless you continue smiling at him or muttering out soft apologies for whatever minor thing you had done that the policeman had an issue with.
There were many times Spencer wanted to speak up, or shove the old mans faced into a wall — but then you’d smile sweetly at Spencer and he remembered you were a grown woman, you were perfectly capable of taking care and defending yourself. Regardless of this information, Spencer stayed a little closer to you throughout the day.
“Alright, giggle guts, whatcha got for me?” Penelope said over the phone after she had heard your mumble out a cheery hello once it went through. Spencer smiled fondly at the nickname, mostly because he saw your smile widen and a string of laughter leaving your lips, the sound melodic in his ears.
The sound of your laughter only made a small laugh puff out Spencer’s lips because it was so sweet and so beautiful that it was contagious and he couldn’t help it.
“Well, you gorgeous amazing girl. I need you to look up this guy’s medical history, please” the manner was added so sweetly and softly on the end. The compliments left your lips effortlessly, the sound of your voice and the evident smile in it made Spencer’s heart happy.
Penelope said something over the phone but it was inaudible over the sound of Sheriff standing in the corner of the room scoffing. Your eyes flickered upwards towards the sound, eyebrows pinching together in slightly confusion. Everyone’s expression mirroring your own.
Spencer felt dread fill his stomach and over every goosebump on his skin, dread to fear whatever spiteful unnecessary criticism the man would have to offer. The criticism absolutely no one asked for.
“Whats the issue?” Hotch spoke up, arms crossed over his chest as he stared down the sheriff. Was it in a protective manner? Nobody was sure really, the elder’s expression remaining unreadable.
The sheriff kicked off the wall to stand a little stranger, looking at hotch than back to you. “Unprofessional. This is why this is a man’s job. Sensitive squishy women who think life is all sunshine and rainbow are not fit for a job like this.”
Everyone went silent, your lips parted before closing, unsure of how to reply to something so unnecessarily mean. Spencer’s expression hardened. The room fell into an awkward tension, nobody moving or saying anything.
You pushed out a laugh, “Damn okay.. Tell me what you really think” You muttered under your breath, a joke.
Spencer would’ve laughed at your comment, your way to bring light to a room that had been made so dark but he could see the hurt in your eyes and he felt his heart strings pull against his chest, he wanted to reach out and grab your hand, reassure you that you were perfect for this job.
He was pissed. Actually. There wasn’t a lot that could make Spencer mad — this however was one of the few things that did. He shuffled uncomfortably, finding it difficult to hold his tongue. He could tell Emily and JJ was uncomfortable by the comment made.
Hotch opened his mouth to talk but Spencer had beat him to it. “You’re probably, what 65?” He said, his tone of voice curt and blunt it made your heart turn in Spencer’s direction.
The police officer furrowed his eyebrows, yet nodded anyways. Spencer hummed in response, sitting up a little bit straighter as he leant forward to rest his forearms against the conference table the team had been gathered around.
“Right, so by assumption and well — biology. You are actually probably the least reliable person in this room right now, despite age or gender. Your pace is significantly slower than anyone on your team, and i don’t think I even need to compare you to our team because I don’t wish to further embarrass you or hurt your fragile masculinity much more.” Spencer started.
Your head had fully turned towards his now, eyebrows quipped and eyes widened in shock because you weren’t expecting Spencer of all people to come to your defence. Not because you didn’t think he cared but because the boy could hardly defend himself, you just hadn’t expected him to defend you.
“And actually — we use psychology, which women are actually significantly more successful in because of their ability of understanding, gender plays little to no role in our field of work. Its also ironic since I know you heard Derek on the phone to Garcia, you had no issue with what he had said — so I’m very sure that whatever issue you have, is purely because your masculinity feels threatened by girls who are doing a job you couldn’t fathom. Either get your mind out of the 1800’s or get away from our team.”
“Spence” His head turned towards your voice, taking in your wide eyes and parted lips in shock. He had honestly lost himself in the midsts of his ramble, unable to help it because someone had made you upset. The sweetest, kindest, gentlest person was made to feel bad by a way too old male who was clearly unable to adjust to the way the world was evolving.
“Sorry” Spencer apologised for his ramble. The door slammed shut as the policeman left the room, and Spencer felt a strange sense of pride when he looked back up at you to see a gentle smile tugging at the corner of your lips as you pulled your eyes away from him back to the phone.
“Sorry about that pen.. Those medical records?”
Your smiled returned throughout the rest of the day, Hotch had gone out of his way to talk to the Sheriff and although nobody else had any idea what the conversation between the two included, it was clearly enough to make the Sheriff stay far far away from you and the rest of the team whenever possible.
Although your smile returned, Spencer could almost instantly notice the drastic difference. Maybe it was actually minor because no one else noticed, or maybe he just spent too much time admiring your pretty smile. Either way, he knew he didn’t like it.
“Spence” You said the nickname, a hint of curiosity lacing your tone. his head lifted towards yours with furrowed eyebrows and a small nod of acknowledgement. He repeated your name back to you in the same sort of curious tone.
He watched as you sat up a little bit straighter, meeting his eyes, offering him a smile before you head dipped down again and a gentle breath left your lips. “Do you think I’m unprofessional?” You asked, voice small and gentle and Spencer felt his heart ache so tensely it caused physical pain in his chest.
“No” He answered immediately. The rest of the team were out looking over the crime scenes while he opted for staying back with you while you looked for any connecting links between files. “I think you are very professional. You’re kind but that doesn’t make you unprofessional.” He added, quick to reassure any doubt that weighed down on your pretty mind.
You hummed gently, “But-“ He didn’t let you finish or come up with any sort of argument, he wouldn’t have it. He refused to let man who was balding make you feel any less about yourself.
“But nothing.” He said, his voice stern and final yet so gentle. “He was mean and sexist, if anyone is unprofessional it’s him. You are amazing at what you do, you are smart and kind and everyone who meets you loves you. You’re safe, for everyone. Victims especially. Not everyone has that about them” He said.
It was true, when working cases victims gravitated towards you and your comfort and kindness, if there was someone to trust it was you. Kids and witnesses were always more inclined to talk to you than anyone else on the team because there was something so sweet and welcoming and safe about you.
“You do” You said, tilting your head a little as you looked up at Spencer. His eyebrows furrowed slightly in confusion as to what you meant, but his heart skipped a beat anyways.
“You have that something safe about you.” You said, noticing the confusion that covered his features. His heart warmed and ached all at once. Spencer was glad, so so so glad that you found him safe, that he was able to make you feel that way — Honestly he was happy he had any effect on you whatsoever.
“You think so?” He asked, voice a little quieter as he held your gaze. He was scared that if he spoke any louder he may break the fragile moment. You nodded, a small smile on your face, a real smile.
“Mhm, I think thats why I got so comfortable with you so quickly. You’re so.. safe, and smart i think i trust anything you say so please don’t lie to me because that would end really badly for me, and probably give me trust issues and then i will never trust anyone again — and well thats just not good” You rambled out dramatically. Spencer’s smile widened for a series of reasons.
“I would never lie to you.” He said gently, voice carrying a hint of something more, honesty and truth and so much longing it was almost embarrassing, he hoped you missed the way his voice went up an octave.
“Okay good.” You smiled.
Your gaze lingered on Spencer’s for a moment before you turned your head away. He felt like the room had gotten too warm, he had to refrain from the urge to loosen his tie and rub the sweat away from his forehead.
“Did you like the book?” You asked, fingertips grazing over the folder of the case file you were supposed to be reading. Spencer’s eyes followed the movement of your hand before returning to the side of your face.
He nodded, mind going back to the words highlighted in blue and suddenly the room really was too warm, he could feel his palms growing disgustingly sweaty. “I loved it, actually.” Much less because of the context of the story and moreso because you had gifted it to him.
You shook your head as you lifted it to look at him, a smile playing on your lips. He was glad that was back, the sweet genuine smile on your face that could probably drown out any bad day.
“Im gonna be honest, I hate annotating books. I think pages should be left undrawn on, and crisp and beautiful but you like annotating books so i figured.. Um.. That it was a good way to tell you how I felt” You mumbled out, and Spencer was both insanely fond of you going out of your way to do something you disliked for him, and also immensely confused by what you meant.
“How you felt?” He furrowed his eyebrows and he watched as your face went through series of expressions before your eyes widened and your lips parted.
“Oh!” You huffed out, realising he had not understood what you were trying to do and you were now giving yourself away massively. “Oh thats— Really embarrassing actually.” You said as you smiled anyways, bringing your hands up to press against your flush cheeks to try and sooth the warmth.
His eyebrows pinched together as he sat up a little straighter, “No- What? What do you mean?” He asked, he found it sweet what you had highlighted and he didn’t see at all how that was embarrassing, or something he should be making a big deal out of.
You huffed out a laugh, “You’re smart Spencer, and a profiler. Im sure you can figure it out.” You said sweetly before pushing your chair out from the table, standing up. He wanted to reach out but he was stuck trying to figure out what the heck you meant.
“Im going to go get coffee.. Do you want some?” You asked, obviously relishing in his current confusion and obliviousness in order to get yourself out of this all too embarrassing situation if it ended in some sort of rejection you were buying yourself time.
“Um- What? No, No thank you” He answered confused, obviously his mind fixated on what you meant, on what he was missing and trying to figure it out.
You let out a laugh, “You’re sweet.” Before you left the room to get yourself coffee. Spencer’s cheeks warmed instantly at your compliment and if you had stayed longer he might’ve built the courage to argue how insanely ironic it was coming from you.
Instead, he sat confused. His mind going over the two lines highlighted in blue in the book you had gifted him, trying to understand how they referenced how you felt. He made you smile, that was good, he understood that.
But you always smiled. It didn’t take a lot to make you smile so how was that the big confession? Was there some context he was missing. Then he remembered the part of the story the line came from, a love confession. The context of the sentences used.
And suddenly he realised despite his iq, and being a literal genius, he was the biggest idiot on earth.
#spencer reid#criminal minds#reidmania#criminal minds show#criminalmindsfans#spencer reid x reader#spencer criminal minds#criminal minds x reader#spencer reid x oc#criminal minds one shot#dr spencer reid x oc#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x self insert#spencer reid x fem!reader smut#spencer reid x fanfiction#spencer reid x fem!readr#spencer reid x plus size reader#spencer reid angst#spencer reid edit#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid criminal minds#spencer reid smut#doctor spencer reid#dr spencer reid#dr spencer reid mm#dr spencer reid x you
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Afternoon Delight
Summary: You didn’t have sleep in mind when you asked Spencer to take a nap with you
Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader
Category: Smut, Fluff
Content Warnings: (18+, minors DNI) Softdom!Spencer, praising, teasing, grinding, handjob, fingering, rough sex, unprotected penetrative sex
Word count: 2.1k
Masterlist
With a dramatic sigh you closed the laptop in front of you and stretched your arms over your head, announcing, “I need a break!”
Spencer looked up from his book to find your eyes. “Study breaks are very important. You’ll be able to focus a lot better afterwards,” he explained. “Do you want coffee?”
“No,” you said with a smirk forming on your face. “I wanna go lie down with you.”
Spencer obviously did not get the hint and declined, “I’m not tired but you can take a nap if you want.”
You got up from your desk to move over to the couch, sitting down right beside your boyfriend. In an instant you could feel the heat radiating from his body. It was almost ridiculous how much you craved his nearness, even after many months of spending most nights together. There was just something about him that almost drove you insane.
“Did you know that short naps are highly efficient and can help improve productivity. You just have to make sure not to sleep for too long,” he explained in his usual rambling manner. He was still oblivious about your true intentions.
“Uh-huh,” you nodded and winked at him. “What if I took my clothes off for my nap?”
Spencer raised his eyebrows and thought about it for a split second. “Some studies suggest that sleeping naked can have a positive effect on your sleep quality. But knowing you, I’d assume you would get too cold to be comfortable.”
“So, would you help me get warm?” You chirped, hoping that he’d finally understand what you wanted.
His eyebrows furrowed at your question, obviously confused about what you were talking about. “I would,” he said, “but it’s probably easier if you just wore clothes, like you usually do when you sleep.”
Usually it didn’t take this long for Spencer to understand when you wanted him. He’d catch onto your playful tone or simply read your body language. He apparently really took your word for it when you told him earlier that you were determined to get your work done with zero distractions.
But even being in the same room as Spencer was more distracting than you could have ever imagined.
“Can I tell you a secret,” you snickered as you moved even closer to him. “I’m not really tired.”
The poor doctor looked at you more puzzled than ever. “Then why would you want to take a nap?”
There was barely any space between the two of you left at this point. It still took him a few more seconds to interpret your mischievous grin correctly.
“Oh!” He laughed. “You want to sleep with me.”
“Wow, I really need to work on my seduction skills,” you giggled while climbing into Spencer’s lap.
“You’re usually pretty good at it,” he chuckled.
He smiled against your lips when your mouths finally met. With more fervor than you had anticipated he started kissing you, while his hands pulled your hips even closer against his body. His tongue begged for entrance, joining yours in a dance that let heat rush through your entire body.
It only took a few more moments until you felt a familiar hardness straining against his pants.
You started to rock your hips ever so slightly while breathing against his lips, “Seems like it’s working.”
Your boyfriend leaned back to look at you. One of his hands found your face and his fingertips began tracing along your cheek.
“You’re so beautiful,” he cooed. “How could I ever refuse you anything?”
The hunger in his eyes only grew when a timid sigh fell from your lips. He watched intently as you kept grinding against him while the tension in your body only grew. His hardness twitched against your clothed core as you used his body for your own pleasure.
“So needy,” he purred as he watched you moving in his lap.
The friction your motions created was making you desperate but it wasn’t enough for you. Spencer knew that, too. He still wanted to see how long it would take you to start begging for him.
His fingertips were buried into the supple flesh of your hips, keeping you close to him as you started to struggle to keep moving. With your face buried into his neck, he could feel your hot, heavy breath against his skin.
It was too much and not enough for you at the same time. The lace of your underwear was soaked with your essence at this point. You felt like you might combust if you didn’t find release anytime soon.
“Please,” you finally whispered into his ear, desperate for him to take over.
“What is it, my sweet girl?” He chuckled as he leaned back to find your eyes. “What do you need?”
The smirk on his face revealed that he knew exactly what you needed. He just wanted to hear you say it.
“Please… I need you,” you begged.
He found your lips in a kiss, soft and sweet like a silent promise to always take care of you. When he motioned for you to get off his lap, you whined at the loss of pressure against your center.
“I know, love,” he cooed. “Just be patient for me.”
Your legs felt weak when you stood in front of him, waiting for his next move. He got up from the couch and took your hand, leading you to the bedroom, where he slowly began undressing you. The second your bra dropped to the floor, his fingers began toying with your nipples. His thumbs brushed over your hardened peaks while he kissed you again.
You really tried to be good for him while he took care of you but it became almost too much. You took a few steps back to lean against the closest wall, your knees suddenly couldn’t be trusted to hold you upright anymore. Spencer followed without a comment, clearly enjoying witnessing your desperation.
His hands were still on your breasts, caressing them just the way he knew you liked. When his palms finally descended further down your body, a relieved sigh fell from your lips. He removed the remaining pieces of clothing until you stood completely nude in front of him.
“You’re such a good girl,” he murmured against your neck. “So patient with me.”
Hearing his praise aroused you even more and you could feel your desire dripping down your inner thighs. You knew it wouldn’t be long now until he’d let you feel him. He took a step back to let his eyes roam over your body while he undid the buttons of his shirt.
“You’re so handsome,” you mumbled and noticed a rosy shade spreading over his cheeks as he kept undressing.
When he finally revealed his body to you, you could barely take your eyes off him. Closing the distance once more, your hand dared to make contact with his cock. Spencer’s eyes widened at your touch and it became obvious that he struggled to keep up his demeanor. He would never admit it but he was just as desperate as you were.
His hardness felt hot and heavy against your palm and his tip was already leaking when you began moving your hand. Spencer’s breath hitched right before a moan escaped his throat, a sound so sinful it almost drove you insane. He indulged in the sensation a few more moments before he took over the situation once more.
“Get on the bed,” he demanded with a firm tone and you did as he said.
However, when you lay down on the mattress he shook his head. “No, I want you on your knees.”
You didn’t need further instruction to know exactly how he wanted you. You turned around, got on your knees and bent over, your forearms pressing into the mattress. Heat rushed to your face when you took in the position he wanted you in, aware of the view you gave him.
He stood right behind you when he purred, “So pretty. I love seeing you like this.”
His hand made contact with your backside, grabbing your flesh before descending down to your cunt. Your glistening folds were so sensitive that your entire body trembled at the sudden contact. He let his fingertips glide through your slit before focussing on your already swollen nub.
“You’re dripping wet and I have barely touched you.”
You were already too far gone to even respond to that. A fit of moans fell from your lips and you buried your face into the sheets to stifle the sounds. Spencer’s free hand found your hair and gently tugged on it to turn your head.
“Don’t hide those beautiful moans from me. I want to hear what I do to you.”
When he finally entered you with two of his fingers, you couldn’t help but grind your hips back against his hand. He curled his digits inside you, pushing against your walls to finally help you fall over the edge. As much as you loved feeling his fingers inside of you, you were still desperate to feel more of him.
You needed all of him. It was impossible to wait any longer.
“Please,” you pleaded once more. “Please, Spencer.”
“What do you need, my love?” This time his question seemed genuine.
“I need you,” you mumbled. “Need you inside me.”
“I am inside you,” he teased with a playful tone in his voice.
“No,” you whined. “I need your cock!”
The crudeness of your words shocked and excited the both of you at the same time. Spencer finally gave in, granting you what you had been begging for all along. He removed his hand and positioned himself behind you before he let his tip glide through your folds to cover himself with your arousal.
Then, without another warning, he pushed into you with one swift motion. He didn’t give you time to adjust to the intrusion, instead he instantly began fucking you with a ruthless pace. His hands gripped your hips to keep you in place. His fingertips were buried into your skin so deeply, you were sure to find bruises tomorrow.
“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he groaned. “Feels so good.”
He gave you exactly what you needed, pushing into you over and over again until your mind was completely blank. You couldn’t think about anything but him, how he handled your body, how he filled you out so deliciously, how only him could make you feel so good. The pressure inside you grew as the room filled with your moans and the filthy sounds of your bodies colliding.
“You love it when I take you from behind, don’t you my sweet girl?”
“Yes!” you cried as you started dancing along the brink of euphoria. Even though you could barely take his forceful thrusts, you still wanted more. “Harder!”
The entire bed shook under the force of his motions until he felt your walls tighten around him. With a few more skillful strokes he pushed you over the edge, feeling you pulsing around his erection as your orgasm washed over you. Spencer slowed down to let you ride out your high, watching how your entire body trembled with pleasure.
When he slipped out of you, he was still painfully hard. As pleasurable as this position was for the both of you, he craved your nearness more than to find quick release.
Spencer Reid was a romantic after all.
“Can you turn around for me, please,” he cooed.
You did as he said and welcomed your boyfriend on top of you. His demeanor had changed when he entered you again, his motions were slower but still purposeful. His facial features were soft and his eyes filled with adoration for you. You wrapped your legs and arms around him to keep him impossibly close before capturing his lips in a soft kiss.
“I love you,” he breathed against your lips.
“I love you more.”
It didn’t take long for Spencer’s movements to get erratic as he got close to his own climax.
“I’m so close,” he sighed. “You feel so good.”
You ground your hips against his, intensifying his thrusts. You kissed his lips once more before whispering, “Come inside me.”
That was all it took for him. His body began quivering as he throbbed inside you, sharing his warmth with you until he had nothing left to give. After he caught his breath, he gently moved a strand of hair out of your face before softly kissing your forehead, your nose, your cheeks and finally, your lips.
You still held him close inside your arms, refusing to let him go just yet. Your bodies were still connected even after he had gone soft. Spencer tried to move but you didn’t let him, still craving to have him close.
“Just a little bit longer,” you sighed.
“I’ll stay for as long as you need me to.”
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#spencer reid#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid fanfic#doctor spencer reid#dr spencer reid#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid smut#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x reader#criminal minds#criminal minds smut#criminal minds fanfic#criminal minds fluff#criminal minds fanfiction
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What if I put an insane little idea in your head and let it bounce around? Mid seasons (7/8 ish?) Spencer with a kinnda sorta fangirl? She just started at the BAU and it’s not that she’s weird about him but she does have like 3 of his papers memorized down to the letter and she “possibly quoted him on her college application essay” (it’s the literal conclusion).
Like she’s just this little ball of excitement and he has no clue what to do when the team is like “ask her out for the love of god and stop making heart eyes when she lets you nerd out”
Sorry if this makes no sense it’s 2:30 in the morning
FANGIRL - S.R
a/n: AHHHHH BECAUSE WHAT IF I JUST SMOOCHED YOU
loved, loved, LOVED this idea and writing it! you are amazing <3
masterlist
pairings: spencer reid x fem!reader
warnings: reader being a fangirl for reid because WHO WOULDNT BE UGH
wc: 1.2k
"Dr. Reid, hi, it's such an honor. I'm the new agent."
You give him your name, hand extended out to him, bouncing off the balls of your feet. There was a badge pinned to your shirt, the clip attached to it gleaming in the fluorescent light, which despite its usual severity, seemed to soften around you.
Spencer comes to a standstill, his coffee suspended mid-sip, documents wrinkled in his hands as he assesses you. You are pretty. exceedingly so, but he's having trouble processing it, his mind still shrouded in the remnants of sleep.
He blinks away his surprise. "Nice to meet you. Hotch must've briefed you about the team, I assume?"
He adjusted the heap of papers to under his arm, freeing his hand to meet yours. The softness he encountered prompted a momentary pause, awakening a sudden urge to not let go. However, he promptly set aside the thought, releasing your hand with a concealed hesitation.
You fiddled with your earlobe, you shot him a sheepish smile. "Yeah, Hotch did, but I already knew a bit about you. I've always been a fan of your work. I mean, not like a fan per se, because that would be weird, right? But I've read all your papers, and they're just... they're brilliant, honestly."
Spencer was clearly caught off guard, his brows leaping upwards as he surveyed you. You weren't lying--that much was clear to him. He could see it in the way you met his eyes with an enthusiasm so bright it was nearly blinding.
"My work? You're actually familiar with it?"
A soft giggle bubbled from you, a sweet sound that seemed to momentarily leave him winded. He placed his coffee on the desk, leaning back slightly.
"Oh, definitely. Your research on chemical composition analysis in narcotics? I've read it so many times I could probably recite it in my sleep."
He considered the possibility of you exaggerating. He took great pride in his work and (without sounding too cocky) he was well aware of its significance and contribution to his field. However, there's a difference between knowing your work is recognized and encountering someone who has internalized it to such a degree--especially someone like you. He suddenly felt a touch of self-consciousness.
"I'm sorry, that was too much, right? I promised I'd play it cool, and then I saw you and... well, it's all just really surreal," you said before gesturing vaguely towards the bullpen. "Anyway, I'm going to go, uh, find my desk."
You hurried away before he could refute your words, head bowed. He felt like an ass.
The day threw him off balance. His contributions to the team lacked their usual insight, his mental gears turning more slowly. And for some inexplicable reason, he found himself preoccupied with thoughts of you. He attempted to rationalize it as a reaction to your interest in his work, a level of admiration that was a rare find. Unlike the formal niceties from others, your excitement about his work, about him, stood out.
He tried to latch onto Hotch's deductions about the unsub, willing his intellect to snap to attention and offer up a decent theory. However, a glance in your direction derailed his efforts. You were bent over the desk, your hands animatedly navigating through the papers. He was happy to see your enthusiasm was there despite his lack thereof earlier.
"Based on the geographic profiling and the choice of victims, it looks like the unsub has a background in urban planning."
Emily nods, "Good theory. What led you to that?"
He watches the anxious flicker in your eyes, glancing towards him, hands clasped together as you incline your head his way.
"Actually, I read about a similar case in Dr. Reid's paper on The Spatial Patterns of Serial Offenses." It strikes him then--he hasn't yet invited you to use his first name, adding another tick to the ever-growing list of ways he feels he's been inadvertently discourteous. "The clustering of crime scenes near arterial routes suggests the offender leverages the urban grid to facilitate escape and avoid detection. Embarrassingly enough, that was the topic of my college application essay."
Spencer was momentarily speechless (not something that happened often), his mind racing through the physiological response to shock--catecholamine release, vagal tone alterations, even transient arrhythmias--mirroring the way his heart seemed to skip a beat. You really did have his work memorized.
"That's, uh, right," he said, his voice gaining momentum. "By leveraging the urban grid, the offender not only evades capture but also creates a psychological terrain of control."
Hotch nodded in agreement, turning your attention to a series of photographs.
Before Spencer even looked her way, he could sense Garcia's stare, and as he turned, she prodded him with her elbow, smirking. "Seems like she's quite the match for you, doesn't she?"
"Huh? What? No, I mean--she's my coworker, and besides, she's much younger." Spencer was quite sure he sounded anything but convincing.
Garcia raises an eyebrow, shaking her head. "I meant in terms of smarts, but oookay, Spencer."
She walked out with a bounce in that definitely hadn't been there earlier, and Spencer was left with a red face.
He had every intention of pulling you aside, to apologize for earlier, to reassure that he didn't find you odd or weird, and to admit that he was genuinely flattered. But it appeared that every time he had a chance to make it to your desk, you had vanished, or were in deep conversation with JJ, or inside Hotch's office.
It was a relentless cycle that persisted until the end of the day, when everyone began to leave--except for you, who remained still firmly planted at your desk, fervently jotting notes into your notebook.
Absorbed in your work, you didn't notice his approach until he cleared his throat.
"Hey," he said softly.
Startled, you flinched, prompting him to immediately feel like shit. Strike three. You laughed off the shock when you realized it was him, moving your notebook aside, offering him your undivided attention.
"Sorry, Dr. Reid, hi! How's it going? Is there something I can do for you?"
"I thought I'd see if you needed help with anything, and you can call me Spencer, if you want." He glanced at his watch. "Are you still working?"
You pushed a piece of hair from your face and nodded towards the formidable pile of forms.
"Spencer, okay," you said, like you were testing it out, "and just sorting through a mountain of onboarding paperwork."
He nodded, hesitating slightly before speaking. "Listen, I need to apologize for earlier."
You tilted your head. "What for?"
"I think I wasn't as welcoming as I intended to be."
"That's okay, I know I was a bit intense."
He shook his head. "No, you weren't. It's just... It's rare that my work gets much attention. I'm happy you appreciated it. If there's a specific topic that you're more interested in, maybe I could explain more about it sometime?"
You glanced down at your hands, trying to hide the smile that was blooming there. You weren't successful. When you looked back up, Spencer felt a little bit awestruck by your eyes, the flecks of color that he could now see clearly.
"I'd love that. Maybe over coffee?" you suggested.
"Yeah, sure." He could feel the heat rushing up his neck.
He reluctantly parted ways, leaving you to your paperwork, and as he approached the elevator, Penelope was there.
"You know, sugar, maybe I did mean quite the match in a romantic way. So, are you going to ask her out, or shall I play Cupid?"
He blushed. "I think she might have just beat me to it."
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Zoomies | [A.H]
Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!Reader | WC: 1.7k | CW: fluff, no use of Y/N.| Summary: Reader gets the zoomies while being restless on a case and Hotch is the only one who can calm her down.
A/N: I've been laughing so hard while writing this. It's most probably the stooopidest idea i've ever had, but it's so crazy and I love this fic a lot!!!!
It had been a long case, the air in the precinct felt heavy with tension, thick enough to cut like a knife. Everyone was drained, running on fumes, but you felt it the most. The team had been stuck in the stuffy bullpen for hours, waiting for intel, and the endless waiting always gnawed at you. It clawed at your nerves, picking apart your focus, making the silence unbearable.
At first, the restlessness was small. A tap of your foot under the desk, fingers drumming lightly against your notebook, anything to keep moving. But the energy in you started to grow, buzzing under your skin like a live wire. Sitting still wasn’t an option anymore. Your chair felt too small, the walls too close, and before you knew it, you were up, pacing the room. Your movements were aimless, driven by the jittery need to do something. The more you tried to control it, the worse it got. Anticipation surged through you like a shot of adrenaline, nerves firing on all cylinders.
Soon, you were practically bouncing from one side of the room to the other, your body filled with boundless, chaotic energy. You had the zoomies - no better way to describe it - and nothing was going to stop you.
Emily tried to pull your attention, cracking jokes, attempting to reel you in with her sarcasm, but that only seemed to wind you up further. Spencer suggested deep breathing exercises, but his voice barely registered. You were already off again, moving to another corner, your body refusing to settle. Even Derek, who usually found your hyperactive moments amusing, was starting to watch you with concern.
“She’s like a rabbit on a sugar rush,” Derek muttered, crossing his arms as he watched you dart from the coffee machine to the board plastered with crime scene photos, then back again in a blur of movement.
“I don’t know how she has this much energy,” Emily sighed, shaking her head as you bounced on the balls of your feet, eyes scanning the room for your next destination. “But we’ve got to get her to calm down before she drives us all insane.”
Just then, Penelope popped her head into the room, her eyes wide and flustered. “Okay, so… I love her energy, don’t get me wrong, but she’s one wrong move away from knocking over something very expensive and very important. And I'm trying to run background checks on all the suspects, please get her to stop.”
Emily raised an eyebrow, but she couldn’t help the small smile tugging at her lips. Penelope had a point - you were like a wildfire, buzzing from corner to corner, leaving a trail of chaos in your wake. Every drawer you opened slammed shut a little too hard, every step you took a little too fast.
Morgan chuckled softly, his gaze still following your movements. “I know someone who can get through to her,” he said, his voice low with a smirk.
Emily glanced at him. “You don’t mean - he's gonna be pissed if you pull him out.”
“I do.” He nodded confidently. “If anyone can calm her down, it’s Hotch.”
Without another word, Morgan pushed off the wall and strode out of the room, weaving through the bustling precinct with purpose. He knew exactly where to find Hotch - deep in the middle of an interrogation. He didn’t slow down as he reached the interrogation room door, his hand gripping the handle with determination. Without hesitation, he swung it open, the door creaking slightly as it interrupted the tense atmosphere inside.
Hotch was mid-sentence, leaning forward as he questioned the suspect with his trademark intensity. The sharpness in his voice cut through the silence, but it faltered the moment he noticed Morgan standing in the doorway. His eyes flicked up, brow furrowing in mild irritation at the intrusion.
“Can I help you?” Hotch asked, his voice low and calm, though the edge of annoyance was impossible to miss.
Morgan didn’t flinch. He just nodded toward the main room, the flicker of amusement in his eyes betraying the seriousness of the situation. “We’ve got a situation.”
Hotch’s brow raised a fraction higher. “What kind of situation?”
“It’s uhh..." Morgan said, trying not to laugh. “She’s… uh, bouncing off the walls. Literally. We tried everything, but she’s got a serious case of the zoomies, and it’s getting out of hand.” He gave a helpless shrug, knowing if anyone could handle it, it’d be Hotch.
Hotch blinked once, his expression unreadable as he processed Morgan's words. There was a moment of silence before he straightened up, his posture stiff yet composed. “Excuse me for a moment,” he said coolly to the suspect, rising from his chair with the kind of calm authority that suggested nothing rattled him - not even this.
He followed Morgan out of the interrogation room, his footsteps steady and purposeful as they headed back into the bullpen. The scene that greeted him was one of controlled chaos - or at least, controlled by you. You were darting between desks, fingers trailing across papers, pens, and anything within reach. Your pacing had turned into something close to spinning, an endless loop of movement that seemed unstoppable.
Hotch’s gaze swept over the room, the tension in his jaw barely visible, though his eyes darkened with a hint of resolve. He didn’t need to say a word; his mere presence was enough to shift the atmosphere. But you were so caught up in your own restless energy that you didn’t even notice him at first.
Then, like a sixth sense, you felt it - that solid, commanding presence behind you. There was no mistaking it. That steady, magnetic pull that could only be Hotch. Your steps slowed a tad, just enough to make you aware of the weight of his eyes on you, and suddenly, the energy swirling around you started to settle.
The moment you turned and saw him standing there, hands casually tucked into his pockets, those deep, dark eyes locked on you with that familiar mixture of sternness and calm, everything inside you stilled. Your breath caught in your throat, a ripple of tension releasing as his gaze held yours. He didn’t even need to say a word - his sheer presence was enough to command your attention, to quiet the whirlwind that had been spiraling out of control in your mind.
He took a single step forward, and instinctively, you stopped moving, the restlessness evaporating like steam. His eyes, intense yet soft in a way only he could manage, seemed to weigh on you, grounding you in place. There was a hint of amusement in the subtle curve of his lips, barely noticeable but there all the same, though his voice remained steady, unwavering.
He called your name, just your name, low and authoritative, and it was all it took.
Your pulse slowed, the frantic energy that had been pulsing through your veins fading as if he’d flipped a switch. The world around you quieted, the room narrowing down to just him. You exhaled slowly, blinking up at him, feeling the wildness ebb away.
“Come here,” he said softly, his voice like a calm tide, pulling you in, his eyes never leaving yours.
You obeyed without a second thought, your feet moving toward him as if on autopilot. The restless buzz in your mind began to fade with each step, the chaotic energy that had consumed you moments ago slowly dissipating. It was as if his presence alone acted like an anchor, pulling you back from the whirlwind inside your head. The entire team looked on, wide-eyed and quietly amazed, watching as you came to a stop in front of him. The zoomies that had been running rampant through your system were now completely subdued, tamed by nothing more than his commanding presence.
“Take a breath,” Hotch instructed, his voice firm but gentle, you couldn’t help but follow. Without a second’s hesitation, you inhaled deeply, the weight of his gaze still on you. The tension that had tightened every muscle in your body started to unwind, the frantic energy melting away like snow under the sun. His calmness wrapped around you, a steadying force that made everything seem simpler, quieter. You felt the tightness in your chest loosen, your breathing evening out as you stood there, finally still.
“Good,” Hotch murmured, his deep voice holding a trace of warmth in the otherwise stoic demeanor. The barest hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he cast a quick glance at the team - who were still watching in stunned silence - before his eyes returned to you. There was an understanding in his gaze like he knew exactly what you needed without you having to say a word.
“Better?” he asked, his tone carrying just enough reassurance to ease the lingering embarrassment you felt.
You nodded, the flush of heat creeping up your neck as you tried to fight the sheepish smile pulling at your own lips. “Yeah,” you breathed out, feeling a mix of relief and slight self-consciousness at how quickly you’d gone from bouncing off the walls to standing perfectly still in front of him. “Much better.”
He gave a small nod of approval, that familiar flicker of satisfaction in his eyes, before leading you over to one of the chairs positioned around the table. As you sank into the seat, you finally felt a wave of calm wash over you, the whirlwind of energy that had previously consumed you now fully under control.
With a subtle, reassuring pat on your shoulder, Hotch turned and walked back toward the interrogation room, his presence lingering even as he moved away. Morgan watched him go, shaking his head in disbelief. “Man, I don’t know how he does that,” he remarked, still a bit stunned by the transformation he’d just witnessed.
“Whatever it is, I’m just glad it works,” Emily chimed in, a smirk dancing on her lips as she crossed her arms, clearly impressed by Hotch’s effortless ability to handle the chaos.
From her spot in the corner, Penelope giggled, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “It’s like magic,” she teased, playfully throwing her hands up as if conjuring a spell, making the atmosphere feel lighter despite the tension of the case.
But you knew the truth. It wasn’t magic - it was Hotch. Something about him, the quiet authority he carried, had the power to center you like nothing else.
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hysteria | s.r.
in which the BAU is called into a case in rural Appalachia when bodies start showing up in an abandoned insane asylum
margotober masterlist
who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst (horror?) content warnings: hanging (staged suicide), enucleation, established relationship, ghosts, insane asylum, rope burn, premonition in dreams, death, pov switches, "the green ribbon", lobotomies, abduction, corporeal vs spirit form, CPR, hospitals, painkillers, first aid word count: 8.8k a/n: hey guys i am literally not one to beg for interaction but like if you could send an ask or gimme a reblog if you liked this it would probably make my day. this fic is just an excuse for me to tell ghost stories! and just like that, margotober is over. man, it sure would be a shame if i had something planned for november!
night one
“This is a joke, right?” You asked, eyeing the rest of the team as they observed the property before you. The dilapidated building that stood in front of you was previously completely abandoned, and now you weren’t entirely sure if the yellow police line was new or if the tattered plastic was a result of a crime of the past.
It looked like one of the haunted houses that Spencer would drag you to, one with a much too high budget that would leave you feeling like you needed to scrub cobwebs from your skin. You were waiting for the sheriff to make his way up the hill that the asylum was perched on, the BAU had made it up in SUVs, but the locals elected to hoof it.
Tugging the sleeves of your FBI jacket over your hands, you tapped your heel impatiently and observed the scenery. The fall foliage was in peak season, orange and red leaves fluttered in the wind, falling from the trees until they hit the ground. To the left was the town, small and hidden within a river valley, and to the right was a field of gravestones. Each life lost in the asylum whittled down to a number, hundreds of weathered rocks marked where a body was buried. Even after all of your years with the BAU, the sight still made you sick to your stomach.
The death count on this property had gone up by twelve recently, a group of college kids had found the first body hanging from the staircase, and it seemed like a semi-routine suicide until the local cops did a full sweep of the building and found eleven other bodies, each hanging in a different room.
It wasn’t until the medical examiner looked at them that they realized they were out of their depth, the oldest of the bodies had been dead before they were hung, which told you that hanging the bodies was the intention of the killer and he was beginning to perfect his M.O. Even more than that, the last two bodies had been enucleated post-mortem.
Being grateful for the method by which a person had their eyeballs destroyed wasn’t an emotion you felt frequently, and it was an odd thing to admit to yourself as you consciously blinked.
Over the curve of the hill, you watched as a couple of locals made their appearance, each of them equipped with a flashlight. The sun was beginning to set. Emily had made the executive decision that this case couldn’t wait until morning, so you took off in the middle of the day. Glancing over your shoulder, you found Spencer’s eyes and he gave you one of his patented half-smiles before you looked back at the foreboding building.
The structure had electrical issues, leading to lights flickering all over the crumbling brick walls. The flashes were starting to play tricks on your eyes because you would’ve sworn that you saw a woman in one of the windows, in a long white dress as she looked down at you and your team.
“You must be the BAU,” the sheriff greeted once he was close enough to your group, he waved before huffing impatiently. “Sheriff Shawn Greenbaum, this here is Deputy Conrad Perkins,” he introduced himself and the man with him. You studied them, trying to gauge information about them based on appearance alone.
Emily nodded, reaching her hand out for him to shake and introducing herself before making the rounds with the rest of the team. “Agents Simmons and Lewis are already at the station getting settled, but the rest of us are interested in getting in the building and taking a look around.”
Greenbaum placed both of his hands on his hips before clearing his throat, “That’s not a problem at all. We’ve got a lock up on those front doors to try and keep people out, we’re hoping it’ll put a halt on any more crime.”
Kicking mud off of your boot, you and JJ shared a dubious look. In your line of work, where there’s a will there’s a way—a padlock would do very little to help keep your killer out of the asylum. Even so, you all followed the sheriff as he produced a key from his belt, leading the way to the front doors. They were made of rotting wood. If someone really wanted to get past the lock, they could probably kick them in.
The smell hit you before you stepped foot inside the building, the stench of mildew wafting through the air made you crinkle your nose as you closely followed JJ into the building. A gentle touch to the small of your back told you that Spencer was behind you, each of you shuffling in single file behind the sheriff.
“The first body was found hanging over there,” the deputy, Perkins pointed straight ahead toward the winding staircase. You studied the peeling wallpaper and looked at the faded signs above the different hallways, barely able to make out the words tuberculosis and adolescent as you strolled through the main lobby.
Since they’d initially assumed it was a suicide, the body had been taken down, so even though you had twelve bodies to start your profile with, you didn’t have a fresh crime scene anywhere. In fact, you’d wager a guess and say there’s nothing fresh about this building.
Cringing as you walked over a pile of wet paper, you listened to Emily as she gave everyone jobs, “Reid and I will keep talking to the sheriff, Rossi and JJ, why don’t the two of you check out this wing here with the deputy, and Luke and Y/N can take the upstairs.”
You looked up and found Luke, following him to the staircase and ducking under the noose to go up the stairs, hesitant to use the handrail as you made your way to the second floor, knowing there was plenty of building for the two of you to explore. Pulling your flashlight from your belt for additional lighting, the sight in front of you was worse than what you had seen downstairs. “Watch your step,” you said absentmindedly, bypassing a bucket filled with what you sincerely hoped was water.
“When was this place built again?” Luke asked you, knowing you had done preliminary research with Spencer on the jet. He produced his own light, slipping his cell phone from his pocket and using the flashlight function.
You checked the ceiling, wondering where the beams were and if any bodies had been found in the hallways, “The 1860s,” you responded, keeping your voice soft so you didn’t disturb anything in the building—living or otherwise. You found yourself wanting to walk to the window you had seen that woman in earlier.
Alvez made a disgusted noise at something, and you refrained from looking back at it, knowing you likely didn’t want to know. “And what patients did they predominantly treat?”
Fiddling with the door handle, you nudged the door open with your knee, coughing at the puff of dust that met you on the other side. “They started with a little bit of everything. The elderly, children, adolescents, epileptics, TB patients,” you listed off. “We even found records of people accused of ‘excessive self-satisfaction,’” you continued, finding the window in question. The only thing you found was the same flickering sconce you had seen from the outside.
“Self-satisfaction?” Luke repeated the phrase curiously.
You tapped the sconce with the end of your flashlight, getting it to stop flickering before you clarified, “Masturbation.”
Expectedly, Luke chuckled lightly at your answer, “How exactly would one quantify excessive masturbation?”
Raising your eyebrows, you studied a strange mark on the cement floor, “I assure you; I have no clue.” You turned around, expecting to see Luke right in front of you. “Luke?” You called out his name, confused when you didn’t see him in your line of sight, you flashed your light around the room, wondering if he had found something. “Ah!” You yelped when a hand touched your shoulder, causing you to drop your flashlight.
Luke cackled from his place behind a bookshelf, “It’s gonna be a long case if you’re that tightly wound the entire time.”
You swatted at him with the sleeves of your jacket, “Asshole,” you muttered, taking the practical joke mostly in stride.
“Y/N?” Spencer called from the first floor. Your voice must have carried down the stairs, or they heard the flashlight fall to the ground.
Glaring at Luke, you shouted back, “I’m fine!” You crouched to pick up your flashlight, blowing dust off of it before you tightened your grip around it, “Grow up, Alvez.”
He rolled his eyes, “Yeah, yeah, so what did they do after they took in a little bit of everyone?”
You hummed, stepping back out into the hallway, and looking into what you assumed were offices—most of the patients would’ve lived on the first floor. “They started to focus on patients with mental disorders in the 1970s. Around the same time that medicine in psychiatry started to make advancements,” you kicked at a piece of cloth on the ground. “It closed down in the early nineties when people finally started acknowledging that things like lobotomies and electroshock are inhumane.”
Luke picked the next room, wiggling the doorknob before he used his shoulder to push the door open, “Woah.”
Stepping in behind him, you saw what he was looking at. Along the wall was a mural of sorts, a landscape that featured a caricature of the sun. Next to it, the words ‘let the sun shine in’ were scrawled in black paint.The colors were eerily vibrant for the age of the building, “Well that’s…” You let your voice trail off, looking at the size of the furniture in the room and ascertaining that it was likely designed as a treatment space for children.
“Do you hear that?” Luke asked, shining his flashlight around the room and looking for the source of the noise.
Fortunately, you weren’t that gullible, “Yeah, right.” You scoffed, turning back and seeing Spencer at the top of the staircase, “Hey,” you said, tilting your head to the side curiously.
He smiled at you softly, “Hey, it looks like it’s about to rain, so Emily’s having all of us head back to the precinct. We can look at the M.E. reports knowing what we know now about the crime scene.”
You nodded, looking into the room to find Luke, still shining his phone in every corner, “Luke, it’s probably just a rat or a tree branch tapping on the side of the building.”
Luke’s eyebrows were pinched together in concern, but he followed your footsteps into the hallway, falling to the back of the group as the three of you walked downstairs, meeting the rest of the team in front of the asylum.
“It’s kind of weird,” you said mostly to yourself, though you were entirely aware of the people who were surrounding you.
Spencer hummed curiously, making sure the sheriff wasn’t watching before he adjusted the collar of your jacket, “What’s weird?” He asked, mimicking the soft tone of your voice.
You looked back at the window where the light had started flickering again, “How all of these people were forced into the asylum by their loved ones, and now the word has an entirely different meaning.”
Holding your mug in both hands, you listened carefully to the crackling fire in the lobby of the hotel. Matt stood up from where he was sitting so that Spencer could sit next to you, and you absentmindedly slung your legs over his lap, thinking about the case. More specifically, you were thinking about the scene.
Spencer set a hand on your pajama-covered thigh, using his other hand to hold his book open as you listened to the other noises in the lobby. There was a storm going on outside, and a certain level of unease blanketed the team, leading to a convening in the hotel. Emily and Tara were going over case files, Matt and JJ were on the phone with their families, Rossi was playing Tetris on his phone, Luke was on the phone with someone, and you were just observing.
Eventually, Luke spoke up to everyone, “Hey guys, listen to this,” he said, holding his phone out and clicking the speakerphone button, “Okay, go ahead Garcia.”
Your eyebrows raised in amusement at the revelation that he was on the phone with Penelope, but you were still grateful to hear her voice coming through the speaker.
“I hope you’re all cozy by the fire because I have found a story about your crime scene that will chill you to your bones,” she prefaced, and you smiled slightly at her embellishments. “Catherine Pence was admitted to the Barnham Asylum for the Mentally Ill in 1978 at the age of 53. She lived a totally normal and insignificant life until she was 50 years old and her mother passed away, at which point, the people in Catherine’s life said she started to behave strangely.”
Snapping his book closed, Spencer set the novel in your lap before pushing his glasses up on the bridge of his nose, “Strangely, how?”
Penelope cleared her throat, “I’m glad you asked, Dr. Reid. She was convinced that her mother was still with her. In fact, she would frequently be confused when other people told her that they couldn’t see her mom. Eventually, she started showing other concerning symptoms, so her husband brought her to Barnham.”
You frowned, sharing a glance with JJ, who had hung up the phone, “What kinds of other symptoms?”
“The file I got my hands on specifically cites paranoid thoughts, but that’s not even the spookiest part,” she continued. “When the doctors did their first examination of Catherine, they decided that whatever she was dealing with wouldn’t be amenable to any sort of treatment. She was a very calm patient who periodically had conversations with her dead mother and voiced paranoid thoughts, but they put her in Block D.”
Block D was the section of the hospital set aside for patients in need of around-the-clock care, which seemed a bit extreme for Catherine.
There was a clicking on Penelope’s end of the call before she resumed, “Anyway, Block D had sixteen rooms and there was always some form of supervision, usually a nurse. All of the doors were locked and there were bars on the window, so it was impossible to get anywhere without someone noticing, or so you would think.”
You settled further into the couch cushions, and Spencer instinctively squeezed your thigh.
“On December 1st, 1978, when the nurse went into Catherine’s room with her breakfast tray, she found the room in absolute tatters. I mean, the bedding was shredded, there was broken glass, everything was scattered around the room, and Catherine was missing.” Penelope said, emphasizing the last word.
Luke, who had previously seemed bored by the story, leaned forward, setting his elbows on his knees, “What happened to her?”
Penelope hummed, knowing she had sucked everyone into the story, “The search started immediately. You don’t just have someone escape an inescapable room and move on with your day. The windows, walls, and floor in Block D were completely intact and there was no sign of tampering with the door. No one could figure out how she got out, much less where she was.”
She didn’t wait for anyone to speak before she continued, “Catherine’s nurse said that she was unusually moody and had been for weeks. She completely stopped speaking and showed no reactions when people spoke to her and it was apparently very sudden, but that didn’t really provide any insight into where she could be. The staff searched the surrounding area thoroughly, but there were no leads. Eventually, they notified her relatives and the residents of the town in case she had somehow gotten out of the hospital.”
Then, on January 12th, 1979, a group of men that the asylum hired to do repair work on the second floor found that there was a door locked from the inside.” Garcia cleared her throat before resuming the story, “They also discovered an unpleasant smell emanating from the room, and when they finally got into the room, there was Catherine Pence.”
You wrinkled your nose in disgust, simply just imagining the smell of the room.
“Her clothes were removed and neatly folded next to her and her arms were crossed over her chest, one below the other,” Penelope continued. “Mysteriously, when her body was removed and taken to the morgue, there was a trace left on the concrete floor that corresponded exactly to the figure of Catherine. No matter how many times or what they’ve tried, they can’t get the mark out of the concrete.”
Your blood ran cold at the memory of the strange shape you’d seen in the asylum, “What?”
Penelope hummed, “The medical examiner considered hypothermia as a potential cause of death, but apparently that winter was unseasonably warm, so he settled on a heart attack.”
“Did they ever consider homicide?” Rossi asked, attempting to seem uninterested.
There was a chuckle on the other end of the call, “Yes, they did, but they never found anything else to support that theory. At that point, the room Catherine was found in hadn’t been opened since 1976 when it was used to contain patients with a contagious infectious disease. Since then, the room remained locked.” You could practically hear Penelope’s smile as she divulged the final detail, “Residents of the town say that, sometimes, you can hear cries for help coming from the building. There are even reports of Catherine’s ghost being seen in the window of the room where she died, she just stands there and stares out the window.”
Everyone sat around in silence for a moment before Luke grabbed the phone off of the coffee table, “Yeah, alright, thanks, Garcia.”
“Sleep well, my pretties,” she crooned through the phone before the call ended.
You felt heavy as if there had been a weight placed on your chest, and in an attempt to rectify it, you handed Spencer his book, “I’m headed to bed.”
He looked up at you curiously, eyes studying yours before he nodded, “Alright, I’ll be up in a little while,” he assured you.
Your body carried you to the hotel room, using the key to unlock the door and somehow making it to the bed even after your mind had completely turned itself off. You didn’t remember falling asleep, but you remembered waking up.
As you sat up in bed, you were having trouble holding your head up, finding that you couldn’t turn your neck to see if Spencer had made it to bed. More than that, the room was pitch black when the two of you usually leave the bathroom light on in hotels. Opening your mouth, no words came out.
Small puffs of air escaped your lips, but nothing else came out. You couldn’t move your hands to your neck—you couldn’t move at all. You wanted to call out for Spencer, and even though no sound came out of your mouth, you saw him before you.
Your eyes widened at his sudden appearance, suspiciously illuminated in the otherwise dark room.
Tantalizingly slowly, his hand reached out for you, touching the skin of your neck with his fingertips before pulling. It felt like he was pulling at a thread, and all you could do was watch as his hand came back with a piece of twine pinched between his fingers and your disembodied head fell to the floor.
You gasped for air, holding your hand to your chest and panting, unable to figure out how to get air into your lungs when you so desperately needed it. There were other hands on you, gently placed on your hip and upper back, the latter rubbing small circles as you choked on nothing but air.
“Hey,” Spencer whispered, continuing his ministrations on your back. “It’s okay, I’ve got you,” he comforted you, trying to get you to even out your breathing.
Carefully, his hand reached up to your neck, sweeping hair behind your shoulder, but as soon as you felt his hand on the side of your neck, you flinched away from him, nearly toppling off of the double bed.
He pulled you back as gently as he could, “Y/N,” he said, his voice stern this time as he turned to flick the lamp on. “What happened?”
You shook your head, appreciating how secure it felt to the rest of your body, before pressing the heels of your palms into your eyes. “It was just a nightmare,” you answered, the sound of your own voice felt disconnected from your body.
“You don’t usually call out my name in your nightmares,” Spencer observed softly, trying to get you to open up more to him, “And you’ve definitely never pulled away from me like that.”
He was right, you had your general recurring nightmares—mostly work related—but you’ve never had anything like this before. You didn’t know how to explain it to him, because how would you explain to your rational, genius boyfriend that you thought you were seeing ghosts?
night two
You felt his eyes on you, Spencer’s big, brown eyes were boring right into yours as you looked at the foreboding structure in front of you. You weren’t even sure how long you’d been watching the stained-glass window, waiting for something to happen, waiting for the ghost to come back.
Sighing, you leaned back in the passenger seat of the car, thinking about the now-cold coffee that you had sitting in the cup holder and wondering if it would be worth the caffeine if it meant you had to pee in the woods at some point in the night.
“You should’ve stayed at the hotel tonight,” Spencer said, his eyes still focused on you.
You pursed your lips, watching the light flicker in the window, “We have a job to do.” That should’ve been enough for him, it had to be enough for you, knowing that at the end of the day, this was just a case and you’d be going home once you found whoever was doing this.
Finally turning his head, Spencer huffed in frustration as he faced the front door of the asylum. “I know you didn’t get back to sleep last night, so you have to be exhausted now,” he told you.
It was nearly midnight now, and you indeed hadn’t gone back to sleep after waking up at two in the morning, but you still agreed to a stakeout when Emily suggested it. Spencer called you out on it then, similarly to what he was doing now, and you were sure he had something to do with you being paired up together. If you ever found out he had voiced a concern about you to Emily, you were going to have issues.
The cool glow of the waning gibbous moon reflected off of the building, the effect only building the eerie feeling in your stomach, winding itself up like a ball of yarn.
With the morning came another body, and it became clear to Emily and the locals that the camera surveillance that had been set up along the perimeter wasn’t doing anything to bring you closer to closing the case. So, she had you and Spencer sitting in a car at the front entrance, each of you armed and on high alert, no matter what your boyfriend thought.
On the other side of the building, Luke and Tara were in another vehicle, keeping an eye on a back entrance that had the potential to be an access point for the UnSub.
Keeping an eye on your window, you squinted as if you could somehow summon Catherine Pence’s ghost. You wished you’d been paired up with Luke again, who at least had seen the mark on the floor, but instead, you had Spencer, who had meddled with your work out of concern for you.
You sighed, reminding yourself that he only did it out of concern for you, wondering how to approach the issue when an all-too-familiar figure appeared in that second-floor window, “Do you see that?” You blurted the question before you could even think about what you were saying.
Instinctively, Spencer placed a hand on his weapon while looking through the windshield of the car, “See what?”
You furrowed your brows, pointing as plainly as you possibly could to the second-floor window where you saw the woman, “On the second floor. Off to the right,” you said desperately, wanting him to see it, wanting him to believe you. “Don’t you see her?”
Spencer’s hand dropped as his gaze went from the building and back to you, “Honey.” You tried to ignore the emotion-filled tone that he gave you, flooding the pet name with an apt amount of concern.
Sitting back in the car seat, “Never mind, I didn’t—” you cut yourself off, “I just thought I saw something.” You tried to play it off, crossing your ankles one over the other and shifting in the seat, trying to keep your ass from going numb.
His eyes were still trained on you, and you tried to ignore him even as he locked the passenger door from the inside. The car remained absolutely silent until you heard a voice come in from the radio, “This is the Death Star calling for the Bat Mobile, over.”
You rolled your eyes at the sound of Luke’s voice, “Don’t call this car the Bat Mobile,” you told Spencer as he lifted the radio to his mouth.
“This is the Bat Mobile, we can hear you loud and clear Death Star, over,” Spencer responded, grinning at the way you groaned in response. The poltergeist of it all nearly forgotten for just a moment.
Placing your head in your hands in frustration as you waited for Luke’s response, Spencer reached over and smoothed your hair back, the gesture feeling oddly domestic for a stakeout. Maybe that was why Emily never paired the two of you together. “Yeah, we aren’t seeing anything out here, are you clear on your end?”
Spencer’s ministrations on your hair faltered for just a moment before he answered, “No, we haven’t seen anything.”
“Tara just got off the phone with Emily, they got the lab results back on those tools we found by the latest victim,” he informed you, “The blood on it was a match.”
You pressed your lips together in a thin line and shared a look with Spencer. Part of you was grateful to finally feel like you’d made some semblance of progress with the case, but the other part of you felt physically ill knowing that the latest victim had been enucleated using an orbitoclast. Her eyes and sockets were pulverized by a lobotomy pick, and it almost made you feel like you needed a word stronger than sadist.
“Did the medical examiner say the injuries matched the patterns of the other two enucleated victims?” Spencer asked into the radio, holding it close to his mouth as he spoke.
There was a pause before Luke responded, “Uh, kind of.”
You frowned, “What do you mean ‘kind of?’”
Another pause, “The M.E. concluded that the wound patterns are the same on the three latest victims, but the injuries on the most recent one were inflicted antemortem,” Luke explained.
Your eyes widened as the weight of Luke’s words joined the pit in your stomach, her eyes had been pulverized while she was still alive. The M.E.’s conclusion matched the one you had proposed when you saw the blood spatter this morning. You held your breath to stop a sound of disgust from escaping your lips, but you knew Spencer saw it on your face.
“Thanks for the update,” Spencer said, turning down the volume on the radio slightly before setting it on the dashboard.
Swallowing thickly, you placed both of your hands in your lap, studying them as if you’ve never seen them before, “Have you ever gotten the feeling that a case isn’t going to end well?”
You caught him while he was about to take a sip of his coffee, his movement paused for a moment before he took a swig anyway, setting the cup in the cup holder and nodding, “Yeah,” he answered, his voice raspy before he cleared his throat, “I have.”
Running your tongue over your molars, you raised your eyebrows at him in curiosity, “What usually happens?”
Spencer sighed, going back to facing the asylum before he held his hand out for you to take, you obliged, setting your intertwined fingers on the center console. “The case usually doesn’t end well,” he admitted.
“When are you going to tell me what your nightmare was about?” Spencer asked, squeezing your hand as he made conversation, trying to keep the two of you awake through the night.
Leaning your head back, you looked through the sunroof of the car, thrilled to see the sun beginning to rise over the tiny town. “I don’t think it really matters, it was just a bad dream,” you told him, clearly aware of why it mattered.
You even knew why it mattered to him. You’d never pushed him away like that before, but as soon as his hand had gone near your neck, you’d completely lost control of your body. “Look, I know I don’t believe in dream analysis—”
“Oh,” you scoffed, cutting him off. “Yes, you do,” you corrected him, “You do this all the time, you talk about dream analysis, and you claim that you don’t believe in it but then you actually get into it, and you admit that you just don’t like what Freud has to say about it. Then you’ll list everyone who has discredited him before you tell me ‘Jung still has his merits.’”
Spencer was quiet, and you immediately regretted your interjection.
Sighing, you wished you could melt into the passenger seat of the car, “I’m sorry,” you whispered. “I don’t think that analyzing my dream right now will do any good, but I just… I’m sorry.”
He was still silent.
Chewing on the inside of your lip, you turned your body as best you could in the vehicle, “Do you believe in the afterlife?”
That got his attention. Spencer turned his head to you, concern etched into his face, “Why are you asking me this?”
You couldn’t tell him. You’d break his heart if you told him that throughout the duration of this case, you’d developed a pit in your stomach and started having dreams about dying. “In my dream, it was like… like I was paralyzed, and I couldn’t move my head. I couldn’t speak or anything and when I thought about calling for you, you appeared.” You sniffled slightly, “You reached out for my neck and your hand came back with a piece of twine, and then my head fell to the ground—completely detached from my body.”
The lack of judgment in his expression was what finally triggered the first tear to fall from your eye, but you didn’t wipe it away. Spencer moved his hand and deftly wiped at your tears with his fingertips, cupping your face in his hands, “You’re not going to die.”
“Spence,” you said, your voice strained by emotion.
He shook his head gently, “Nope, not as long as I’m around. You’re not going to die on this case.”
Your chest ached as your eyes studied his, “Okay.”
“But,” he continued, “I want you to take a step back on this one. No more volunteering for stakeouts, no wandering to the second floor of the asylum, and no listening to any more of Penelope’s ghost stories.”
Nodding, you silently agreed to his conditions, holding out your pinky and waiting for him to present his. Interlocking your small fingers, you each kissed your hands, and you took a deep breath. “What do you think we’re looking at, Spence? Is it another witch hunt?”
Names and faces of people like Leland Duncan and James Heathridge flashed in your memory, but if there was an overlap there, you haven’t seen it.
You didn’t feel like the BAU had a very good track record in Appalachia, Shane Wyland and the still unnamed ‘Mountain Man’ were proof enough of that, but you hoped that Wyland was long dead by now, and these crimes were too organized for the Mountain Man.
“I don’t know, baby,” Spencer admitted, and you knew that it hurt him to say that to you, especially now.
Looking out the window, your eyes caught on Luke and Tara as they made their way over to your car. Spencer unlocked the doors as you hurriedly wiped beneath your eyes, trying to hide any evidence of your upset before reconvening with the team.
Luke waggled his eyebrows at the two of you, “Good morning, how was your night?”
Groaning, you stretched out your neck, “Ultimately uneventful,” you told him, knowing that if anything of real interest had happened, Luke and Tara would’ve been the first people you notified.
“Prentiss asked us if we’d do a quick sweep of the inside before heading back to the precinct,” Tara said, jutting her chin in the direction of the building.
You and Spencer shared a look, but now that you were grouped within your team, you felt comfortable enough to slip your hand in his as the four of you approached the building. Squeezing his hand, your eyes flickered up to the second-story window, and seeing nothing, you stepped into the building.
The smell hit you. The strong tang of blood mixed with that of isopropyl alcohol burned at your nostrils as Tara swore at the sight in front of all of you. A body hanging from the stairwell, eyes completely destroyed, and while the body was covered in blood, the floor was completely void of any red.
“She’s cleaning up,” you observed, stepping closer to Spencer and looking at the streak marks that a rag had made on the floor.
Luke raised his eyebrows, “She?” He asked, confused about the sudden change in pronouns while Tara immediately went to call Emily.
Spencer nodded, agreeing with you as the three of you watched the body turn in the glow of the sunrise, “A man wouldn’t care about the mess he’s leaving behind.”
This revelation left you more confused than anything, you had no idea how anyone could lift that much dead weight, night after night. “Oh,” you breathed, blood draining from your face as you looked up at Spencer and Luke. “We were watching the building all night,” you reminded them. “We never saw anyone enter, but we never saw them leave.”
night three
“Alright,” Emily started, fully equipped in her Kevlar, she looked around the entryway of the asylum, “Rossi and Tara will keep an eye out front in case anyone tries to make a run for it. Reid and JJ will take the tunnels beneath the west wing, Simmons and I will take the east wing, Alvez and Sheriff Greenbaum will head north, and Y/N and Deputy Perkins will stay here in the foyer in case anyone calls for backup.”
In the dark building, Spencer gave your hand a squeeze before everyone turned on their flashlights. “Let’s end this,” Rossi said, earning a hum of agreement as everyone split off into their respective directions.
You wished Emily had done you the kindness of letting you be paired with Spencer again, but twice in the span of a single case was seemingly too much to ask for. “You ever seen something like this?” Deputy Perkins asked you, shuffling his feet across the floor.
Shaking your head, your eyes focused on where the newest body had been found that morning. The body was cleared out and the cause of death was blunt force trauma, but once the realization that the killer had been in the building the entire time settled in, the team got to work on figuring out some of the logistics.
That was when the sheriff brought up the possibility of the killer using a long-abandoned tunnel system. The town had assumed they caved in years ago, but a bit of sleuthing had revealed that there were still a select number of tunnels for her to use.
As long as I stay in the foyer, you reminded yourself, no wandering.
The stench of isopropyl alcohol still floated through the air; it had likely sept into the porous flooring that had been underneath the body. You made note of the flickering lights in the surrounding area, making sure not to get any of them mixed up as you rested a hand on your firearm.
“Did you hear that?” Deputy Perkins asked you, looking up the stairs and shining his flashlight on them, trying to see if he could find anything in the eerie abyss of darkness.
Swallowing thickly, you shook your head in response, “No,” you told him, looking to the left and right of you, wondering if one of the pairs that had been sent off was returning. You hadn’t heard anything coming from the upstairs.
He hummed, taking a step closer to the staircase and setting off alarm bells in your head, “I’m sure I heard a shuffling coming from upstairs.” The pit in your stomach reformed as he planted a foot on the staircase and waved you over, “Come on, we should check it out.”
You hesitated, “We’re supposed to be here if someone needs backup,” you reminded him, nearly pleading with him not to abandon his post.
Perkins shrugged at you before taking another step. “I’m going to check it out, and there’s safety in numbers,” he countered before ascending the steps, making it to the first landing before your feet finally moved.
“Fuck,” you muttered as you followed him up the stairs, taking careful steps so that they didn’t creak beneath you. You reached the second-floor seconds after him, but you shone your flashlight around without any sign of him, beaming the light into the familiar room, “Deputy Perkins?”
You stepped into the room, placing a hand on your firearm as you tapped on the flickering sconce again and looked behind you. Your breathing hitched at the sight of the deputy in front of you, he was crumpled to the floor, his legs folded unnaturally, and there was a lobotomy pick that went straight through his head.
Next to him stood a woman, her clothes were tattered and stained with blood, and she came at you, shoving you to the ground and leaving your gun and flashlight scattered on the hardwood. The force of the impact knocked the wind out of you, and you got yourself out from under her while she frantically searched for a missing piece of the puzzle.
She’d used her pick to take out the deputy, leaving her with nothing to gouge your eyes out. You weren’t sure if you should feel grateful as you rolled over and grabbed the closest thing you could, wrapping your fingers around your flashlight and swinging it aimlessly against your attacker.
“No!” She screamed a high-pitched, blood-curdling sound rang out as you hit her on the side with your law enforcement issue flashlight. The object slipped out of your fingers as you sat up and tried to reorient yourself with your surroundings, you couldn’t see your gun, searching for it as she flung your flashlight back at you, the edge of it catching on your forehead as you fell back.
The UnSub straddled your waist, keeping a firm hold on your throat as she held the pick to your eye, having pulled it from the deputy’s head so that she could complete her ritual, “Don’t,” you gasped, “Think—” your voice broke off as vomit rose in your throat. “Think of the mess,” you told her. “You used all the rubbing alcohol,” you reminded her, pleading with her not to take your eyes.
She was seething, very nearly foaming at the mouth above you as instead of stabbing you with the pick, she used the butt of it to crack against your skull. “You took my friends!” She raged, referring to the people that she had murdered, she was collecting them to keep her company.
“No,” you wheezed, shaking your head even through the blinding pain, “I set them free,” you challenged her, resigning yourself to an untimely demise and crying out when she sat you up.
You tried to claw at her, a weak attempt at saving your own life that received a laugh from the UnSub, an almost childlike giggle. “You can be my friend,” she offered, grabbing an already prepared rope from the floor and looping it around your neck before she slung it around an exposed beam, creating a makeshift rig and pulling on it.
Immediately, your hands flew to your neck, trying to stop the rope from suffocating you completely, and it worked for a little while before your feet lifted off of the ground.
After that, you were gone, left standing off to the side as you watched your body hang from the ceiling while the UnSub who would always remain an UnSub to you watched, cackling as she did so. She cackled up until the moment JJ put a bullet in her brain, the sudden death of your attacker leaving your body to drop to the hardwood floor, the hit softened by Spencer and Emily as they caught.
Tossing the rope to the side, Spencer laid you out on the floor and ducked his head to your chest, listening for breathing sounds. He was listening for anything, any sign of life at all.
There was nothing, so he put his hands on your corporeal form’s chest and started CPR, pushing down on your chest in steady motions.
You knelt down to him, watching tears fall from his face as JJ did her best to keep your airway open and Emily frantically radioed for an ambulance, continuously repeating that Y/N is down.
Assuming your hand would go right through him, you placed a hand on Spencer’s back, surprised to find that he was still solid to you. In a sort of daze, you watched him as he tried to save your life, repeating the same three words over and over again, “Come on, baby.” The mantra continued, tears falling onto your shirt.
You felt like you were on fire as if your body was physically burning while you watched life-saving measures be performed on yourself, “Oh, Spencer,” you whispered. “I’m so sorry,” you said to no one but yourself, knowing that he couldn’t hear you.
Looking to your side, you saw her again. The spirit form of Catherine Pence was watching you die in real-time, and you took a shuddering breath as she knelt next to you, expecting her to impart some sort of spiritual wisdom onto you.
Instead, she placed one of her ethereal hands on the back of your head and slammed both of your forms together. The entire world went dark after that, but you could still hear everything going on, searing pain ran through your entire body, from a throbbing in your ankle to an ache in your ribs to a pulsing in your head, but there was no more pressure on your chest.
“Is she…?” You heard JJ’s voice first, and as badly as you wanted to open your eyes, you just couldn’t gather the strength to do so.
There was heavy breathing and a soft weight on your shoulder, two fingers pressed into the pulse point on your wrist, “She’s breathing. She’s alive,” Spencer answered, out of breath. “Oh, my angel.”
A low groan was the only thing you could muster up.
Spencer shushed you, keeping his head on your shoulder and his fingers on your wrist, “It’s okay, don’t try to talk,” he cooed. “You’re going to be okay, the paramedics are here,” he lifted his head then. “I just want to stay with her.”
aftermath
It was far too bright for you, and the low keening sound that you expelled from your throat was the only way you could think to express that feeling. Whoever was in the room with you understood, turning the brightness down for you, earning a hum of approval from you.
“Hey,” Spencer whispered, his voice barely audible as he tried to keep his voice as low as possible.
The universe was taking pity on you, you knew it because you couldn’t feel any pain, which either meant you had finally kicked it or the hospital you were in had given you painkillers.
Your eyes felt like they were stuck together, the way that they get when you wake up from a perfect nap, and it took a surprising amount of energy to part your lips, expelling a deep breath out of your mouth. The action led to a pinching pain in your chest, causing your breathing to hitch, “Ow.”
“Sorry,” Spencer said, though you couldn’t imagine what he was apologizing for. “Can you open your eyes? How are you feeling?”
A grunt was all he received in response, the single noise begging him to slow down. Your eyes opened just slightly, looking at him through slivers as he smiled softly at you. His eyes were red and there was a box of Kleenex on the table next to him, accompanied by his phone and a cup of water.
He sighed in relief once he noticed that your eyes were opening, “Hey,” he repeated, “You look good,” he lied to you.
You rolled your eyes at him and his smile only grew, “Hi,” you croaked, your throat swollen and dry as you tried to reorient yourself. You were in a hospital, but the view outside of your window was of a city, not the tiny town that you had just been in.
Noticing your confusion, Spencer reached out to adjust your nasal cannula, “They transported you to a hospital in a city. The local hospital just didn’t have the capacity to treat you,” he explained. “I’ve been with you,” he reassured you, “The entire time.”
“I’m sorry,” you rasped, but he waved you off instantly.
Spencer grabbed the Styrofoam water cup from your bedside table and held it to you, bending the straw so that you could get some water.
Noting his silence, you tilted your head to the side, ignoring the way your brain felt like it had been scrambled, “Are you okay?”
He pursed his lips while setting the cup back down, “I just remember thinking about how I promised you that you weren’t going to die.”
The antiseptic air made you cringe, your body becoming more and more conscious as time went on, “I wandered,” you reminded him, making sure he knew that you broke your promise first.
“That wasn’t your idea,” Spencer challenged, knowing you well enough to say that without having experienced it himself. His fingers nimbly adjusted the blanket on your hospital bed, “You followed the deputy upstairs, it wasn’t your choice.”
In your current state, Spencer wouldn’t let you take any of the responsibility for what had happened in the asylum and even though you knew the answer, you asked him anyway, “Is she dead?”
Nodding softly, he took your hand in his, “She’s dead, and someday I’ll let you know her name and read the rest of the case, but today is not that day.” He skimmed his thumb over your knuckles, each of them cracked and bloodied from your fight with the UnSub.
You sighed in relief, a single tear receding into your hairline as you closed your eyes again, “How long have I been sleeping?” You asked, squinting over at your patient care whiteboard.
“Two days,” Spencer answered gently, dragging his fingers up and down your forearm, “You were tired, and your body had a lot of healing to do. It still does,” he added the last part, not wanting you to claim being healed. “Everyone’s still here, waiting for you to be discharged,” he continued, “I should message Emily, actually.”
“And Penelope,” you added, knowing she’d rather hear it directly from him than through Emily.
Spencer chuckled lightly, a sound that was as curative as any medicine you could be given, “I’m sure she’ll be waiting for us at the tarmac in Quantico.”
A small smile sprouted on your face, “She’ll be the one landing the plane,” you laughed slightly, interrupted by a fit of coughing. You placed a hand on your chest and winced, inhaling sharply before trying to breathe through the pain.
“What do you need?” He asked you carefully, setting his phone back down after sending his texts.
You shook your head, “Nothin’, just you.”
It was an action that would’ve previously earned a few stares from the team, and at least one wolf whistle from Luke, you and Spencer slipping into the galley together and closing the curtain behind you. Now it was simply the easiest place for you to get some semblance of privacy as Spencer snipped at the old bandaged around your neck.
Your hair was secured atop your head, keeping it out of the ointment as Spencer used his fingertips to carefully cover the rope burn that had been left around your neck. “Does it hurt?” He asked, eyes focused on his canvas while coating the hollow of your throat.
Shaking your head minutely, you closed your eyes, “No,” you told him, a slight rasp still peeking through your tone.
He hummed in response, giving you a small smile as he went back to the tube, putting more ointment on his fingers, “Liar.”
Opening your eyes again, you looked up at him as your face warmed, “Only a little bit,” you altered your answer. At this point, the worst part about the burn was that the nurses recommended keeping it covered, and Spencer was taking his job as caretaker very seriously.
He checked his phone for something before going back to his prior actions, “I think it’s getting better,” he observed, furrowing his brows as he wiped excess ointment from his fingers.
You took his word for it, having been avoiding looking in a mirror at all costs. Seeing the bruises all over your body was more than enough for you. You flinched when someone else slipped into your oasis, Emily shut the curtain behind her, holding out a pack of non-adhesive Telfa pads for Spencer to use on your neck.
“Hey,” you said nervously, wondering if she had another purpose or if she was simply bringing you some first-aid.
Emily smiled nervously; her eyes studied the marks on your throat as Spencer covered them. You expected her to speak, but she just watched in complete silence.
Raising your eyebrows, you looked from her to Spencer, and back to her again. “You should see the other guy,” you joked, earning the slightest smile from the both of them.
“I just wanted to let you know that however much time you decide to take off, it’s yours,” she offered to you, watching as Spencer unwrapped another packet of gauze.
You hummed, “I’m really alright, Em,” you assured her, more than comfortable with the automatic six weeks that you were granted by the bureau. It was the standard set for all agents unless there was an extenuating circumstance that prevented them from returning to work.
Emily’s nervous smile returned, “It wasn’t a suggestion,” she informed you, letting you know that she was more or less forcing you to take the extended time off.
Peering at your boyfriend, you frowned, “You put her up to this.”
Spencer shook his head, “I didn’t. Stop moving so much,” he urged you, trying to stretch the number of Telfa pads he had before he had the chance to go to a pharmacy.
“He didn’t,” Emily iterated, “But he could’ve, and I still wouldn’t tell you,” she added. “We’ll talk more—both of you. For now, I don’t want to see you around the BAU for a while.”
You sighed when she left the galley, Spencer finished his last placement before stepping back. “How do I look?” You asked him, keeping your question mostly rhetorical.
His smile was so gentle that it cracked at your resolve, “Good.”
Looking up at him doubtfully, you leaned against the counter, “You’re a really bad liar.”
“Hey,” he said, carefully wrapping his arms around you and letting you rest the unmarred side of your head on his chest, “You look alive, and that’s good enough for me.”
#criminal minds#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#criminal minds fanfic#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid angst#criminal minds fanfiction#spencer reid x you#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid fic#criminal minds fic#criminal minds angst#spencer reid x fem!reader#written by margot#margotober#angstober
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Sundrop's Criminal Minds Masterlist
Lessons For A Genius - Capsule Series (Temporarily Complete)
Note: This is a Capsule Series, so each fic can be read as an individual oneshot. There is no overarching story, and no specific ending.
Lesson One: Slick Silicone - Sub!Spencer Reid x (BAU)Dom!Fem!Reader. Co-Workers to Friends With Benefits. Smut. Despite being a genius, Reid still has a lot left to learn about life. (Mostly sex related.) And he definitely wants to learn from you. His first lesson? Well, a linguistics lesson turns into a hands-on demonstration with a very special toy. (17,200 words.)
Lesson Two: Magic Metacarpals - Sub!Spencer Reid x (BAU)Dom!Fem!Reader. (Pining) Friends With Benefits. Smut. After receiving his first lesson, Spencer is eager to learn more for you. So you teach him the next logical thing - how to pleasure you in return. (26,300 words.)
The Patron Saint of Liars and Fakes - Spencer Reid x BAU!Fem!Reader. Co-Workers to Lovers. Fake Dating. Hurt and Comfort. While undercover inside the Separatarian Sect, you and Spencer realize something important: you can’t live without each other. (8,200 words.)
Push and Pull - Emily Prentiss x Fem!Reader - Co-Workers to Lovers. Smut, Sexual Tension. When investigating Viper, Emily doesn't fall for his tricks, and in fact - spends the night teasing him by showing more interest in you. Little did she know, she was driving you insane in the process. (2,800 words.)
The Perfect Brat - Dom!Elle Greenaway x Dom!Fem!Reader x Sub!Spencer Reid. Co-Workers with Benefits. Smut/PWP. Spencer acts up, so you and Elle put him in his place. (2,900 words.)
Loverboy - Bratty!Virgin!Spencer Reid x (Dom)Fem!Reader. Co-Workers with Benefits. Smut/PWP. You try your hardest to make Spencer's first time a good one. (3,100 words.)
Black Suit - Dom!Emily Prentiss x Sub!Fem!Reader. Established Relationship. Smut/PWP. After a particularly hard case, Emily takes you home and helps you unwind by showing you exactly where you belong. (2,900 words.)
From Your Lips - Jennifer Jareau x GN!Reader. Established Relationship. Smut, Hurt and Comfort. After JJ is attacked on the Hankle farm, you take the time to check on her and distract her flustered mind. (3,000 words.)
Figure It Out - A Criminal Minds Casefic. Fem!Reader x Gen!BAU Team (Platonic). General Casefic, modelled after a Criminal Minds episode. Angst, Mystery, Hurt and Comfort. When the team takes a case in your hometown - a secret that you have been trying to hide for years comes to be known with a vengeance. (18,000 words.)
Meddle About - Sub!Spencer Reid x Dom!Fem!Reader. Co-Workers to Lovers. Smut. Morgan calls you Reid's 'Mommy', and you don't think much of it - but Reid can't get it out of his head. It accidentally slips out of his lips, and you like how it sounds coming from him. (6,300 words.)
Pathetic - Dom!Elle Greenaway x Switch!GN!Reader x Sub!Spencer Reid. Established Dom/Sub Relationship. Smut/PWP. Spencer gets punished again - in a very creative way. (2,600 words.)
She Keeps Me Up - Dom!Jennifer Jareau x Sub!Fem!Reader. Established Dom/Sub Relationship. Smut/PWP. JJ is very protective of you - and very possessive of you. When an UnSub leaves a tiny scratch on you, she feels the need to remind you exactly who you belong to. (3,100 words.)
Jennifer Jareau x Fem!Autistic!Reader Headcanons
Jennifer Jareau and Emily Prentiss Kink Headcanons
Random Spencer Reid Headcanons
JJ Being Protective Of You (Jennifer Jareau x Fem!Autistic Reader)
The Scale of Dominance and Submissiveness in The Criminal Minds Characters (Headcanons)
How would Spencer react to you teasing him with a lollipop?
How would Spencer react to you fainting around him?
How would Spencer, Emily, and Elle react to getting proposed to?
How would Derek, Emily, and Spencer react to your daughter being clingy with them?
Note: This last fic links off to AO3. I'm probably not going to edit it and post it on Tumblr - it's going to live on AO3. So if you want to read it, you can do so at this link.
Burn The Witch - Spencer Reid x (BAU)Fem!Reader. Mutual Pining Co-Workers. Heavy Angst, Smut, Casefic. (Series - Complete.) You weren’t sure which you regretted more: acting on your feelings for Spencer, or writing them down first. But there wasn't much room for regrets when a psychopath was waving a gas can in front of your face and telling you he intended to turn you to ashes. (69,900 words.)
#sundrop writes#criminal minds#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds fic#criminal minds fandom#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x y/n#emily prentiss#emily prentiss x reader#emily prentiss x you#emily prentiss x female reader
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need you now | 2 |
in which readers true feelings are revealed.
pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader warnings/tags: angst again (whoops) miscommunication (it’s short dw) fluff, reader is hungover lol, spencer is handsomely disheveled (moans) mentions of blueberry muffins being readers favourite type of muffin (sorry for not being vague but also if you don’t like blueberry muffins??? why) some tears, some swearing, some kissing, suggestiveness at the end of you squint (WHOOPS *evil smirk*) no use of y/n!! wc: 2.1k a/n: call me slim shady because i am back!!! i procrastinated writing this because i was scared everyone was secretly judging my writing and actually hated it and a second part would be a stupid idea but THEN i realised that was a little bit silly so im here B) part one got over 1000 notes (INSANE) all the support has been so so lovely—every note, reblog, and comment means the world to me, thank you!! i hope this part is okayy, feedback is always appreciated :) i hope you enjoy it you choose to read!!! <3 p.s kissing scenes are so difficult to write, i think i done absolutely awful!!!so let’s ignore that…. if you haven’t already and you’d like to, you can read part one here!
Your eyelids twitched as the early morning sun filtered through your bedroom. What was usually a calming wake-up call now felt like being blinded.
You burrowed your face into your pillow, squeezing your eyes shut in an attempt to dull the throbbing in your head. This is why you didn’t drink often.
Asides from the obvious headache and nausea, you always seemed to wake up with a sense of dread; ‘hangxiety’—a friend had called it once. It was creeping up on you now, and even though you weren’t sure exactly what you had done, you knew it was bad. You flipped onto your back, fixing your gaze to the ceiling as if it could tell you what irreparable mistakes you had made last night.
It couldn’t, of course. The only thing you had realised is that you should probably coat it in a new layer of paint soon.
“How’re you feeling?”
You shot up, eyes widening at the sight of a man in your doorway. A man whose sleepy voice and disheveled hair threatened to make you melt, but a man who should not be in your doorway, nonetheless; Spencer.
Your brain was quick to supply you with information then, your memory coming back in hazy remnants. You were upset so you…called Spencer for the first time in months. Yikes. He didn’t answer so you turned to a bottle of high end whiskey instead—yikes, again—and passed out on your couch, only to wake up to your ex-boyfriend in your apartment. Cue more sobbing, a pathetic attempt at asking—no, more like begging—him to get back together with you, and that was it. Well, mostly. There was also the promise of discussing your breakdown in the morning. The morning, which was now.
What the fuck.
“Like I’ve been napalmed.” You weren’t sure you were just referring to your raging hangover.
That prompted a raspy kind of chuckle from him and Jesus Christ—you really shouldn’t have called, because it was going to be infinitely harder to watch him leave when he inevitably told you you were sad loser who needed to get a grip and move on—except, he’d be a lot nicer than that, wouldn’t he? Because even if things were over between you, he was still the sweetest person you had ever met and he’d never say anything to intentionally hurt you. Maybe things would be easier if he did. If he wasn’t so sickeningly perfect—if he just insulted you in the way you were certain you deserved, then maybe you’d get over him quicker.
“So, I-ah-uber’d breakfast—“
Your inner turmoil came to a screeching halt at those words.
“You uber’d? You?”
He scoffed, a light blush dusting his cheeks.
“The team’s been very into it lately and I always finish my paperwork first so it only makes sense that I—stop laughing! I can uber!”
“Sorry! I just can’t imagine the great Doctor Reid stooping to the levels of a fast food delivery app. Do you ever order to the wrong place?”
“No.” he said, unconvincingly. “Well, only once—“
You were laughing again.
He whined, turning on his heel.
“Just take your aspirin and hurry up!” He grumbled petulantly as he left the room, but you could hear the smile in his voice.
After a quick freshen up and taking the pills placed on your bedside table—as per his request—you padded through to the living room, joining Spencer on the couch.
You gasped delightedly as he pulled out muffins from a brown paper bag. To be more specific, blueberry muffins; your favourite.
“Did you know that blueberries are good for fighting hangovers? They’re rich in vitamin C, which helps break down and metabolise blood alcohol. Muffins too, they—what? Do I have something on my face—“
“No! No, sorry,” You had been caught staring—ogling, more like. “I just missed…that.”
“What? My incessant rambling?” He was joking, but you could hear the insecure twinge in his voice—the one that told him he was too much. Over the course of your relationship, you had showed him that he didn’t have to think like that around you—that he was never too much; he was perfect in your eyes. You hated that he doubted that now.
“Yes, actually.” You tried to keep your tone light, unserious. But there was nothing unserious about just how badly you had missed the man sitting beside you. How you could hear his voice in your mind when you drove late at night, giving you statistics on accidents. Or how on other late nights, you swore you could feel his hands ghosting over your skin—only to find out it was your imagination.
If he could see how truthful you were being, he didn’t acknowledge it, turning his attention back to the coffee table.
“I’ll, um, save you the facts on how beneficial coffee is for hangovers, anyway.” He smiled awkwardly, shuffling a paper coffee cup to where your muffin sat.
“Thank you,” you mumbled, “for the coffee, not the withholding of information—i’m a real fiend for coffee facts…especially when they’re related to curing hangovers!” You said a little too cheerily, trying to alleviate the awkward tension. Although, that only seemed to make it worse.
Spencer just huffed out a little laugh in response, taking the wrapper off of his muffin.
The rest of breakfast went by in silence. Not the comfortable silence you always seemed to have with Spencer—when you were together, you reminded yourself—but a strained one. The kind of silence that occurs when there’s something left unsaid, and you’re just waiting for someone to spit it out.
Spencer broke first.
“So we should probably talk…about last night.”
You finished the remainder of your coffee, setting the empty cup down before turning your whole body to Spencer, tucking your legs up underneath you.
“Right, yeah…”
A beat passed, Spencer’s eyes darting around your face—assessing you.
For someone who had imagined this conversation in your mind countless times, you certainly weren’t saying much.
“I—uh…was very drunk.”
Something in him shifted, like he was putting up imaginary walls.
“So you didn’t mean…any of it?” His brow furrowed, his nose twitching slightly.
“Well no, but I—“ You what? Meant every word you said and more? You couldn’t just say that. You had just got a small part of Spencer back and you didn’t want to ruin it by coming on too strong.
He waited for you to add something, anything, to show him that maybe, maybe there was a tiny part of you that still wanted him as badly as he wanted you. But you didn’t. You just sat there, playing with the fabric of your—his—t-shirt.
He couldn’t do it.
He was so tired of loving people only for them to leave like he had meant nothing to them. Was that all he was to you? Someone you could call when your inhibitions were lowered, looking for comfort? He would do anything to be back in your life again, but he couldn’t be a person of convenience; someone you only wanted when you were lonely.
He ran a hand through his hair, swallowing down the tightness in his throat.
“You were drunk and you got carried away, I get it. I think I better go though—“
“What? No, I—“ You bobbed your mouth like a fish, trying to find the words necessary to keep him here. There were too many of them and yet none at all. None except for three. Three words that you wished you had the courage to say months ago, or weeks ago, or last night. But you never claimed to be a courageous person, and you weren’t about to spill your heart out again only for it to end up in rejection.
Spencer stood, making his way to your bedroom to grab his shoes and coat. He didn’t care about his other clothes, he could buy more—he just needed out before he broke.
You sat dumbfounded on the couch, willing yourself to do something, say something. It was like you were frozen. And you stayed frozen. As Spencer shuffled around your bedroom, as he returned to the living room—completely avoiding your gaze—even as he searched for his keys. You hadn’t realised he had driven over here. He didn’t usually drive unless he had to get somewhere urgently. Were you someone worth seeing urgently to him?
He picked up his keys, heading for your door and only then did you realise how dire the situation was. If he left now you weren’t sure he would ever come back.
“No—wait, Spencer!” You stammered, lunging off the couch to try and stop him. He unlocked the door, moving to leave when you grabbed onto his jacket sleeve.
“Please don’t—I love you!”
“What?”
He turned to face you and you noticed just how wrecked he looked—not at all dissimilar from how you had for the last few months. Had he looked like that the whole time?
You must’ve been staring because when you came back to your senses he was calling your name exasperatedly.
“Do you mean it?”
You were fed up living like this; harbouring so much love for someone and not being able to express it. Even if he didn’t love you back, even if he was over you, you couldn’t go another moment without at least telling him how you felt.
“Yes,” you heaved, “I love you—I never stopped loving you, I was just…” You knitted your brows together, unsure how to phrase what you were feeling.
“I’ve never loved someone the way I love you and that’s…terrifying. I thought the way I felt was wrong, like—when you were on cases, I missed you so much, more than I thought humanely possible and—well, I never wanted to be the kind of girl to base her happiness on another person because that’s how you get hurt. So, I thought the only way to combat that was by…distancing myself. I thought if you weren’t in my life anymore then I’d be able to get a grip and become more independent—“ you huffed, trying to stop the wobble of your voice. “but it didn’t work, because then I was just missing you twice as much, except I couldn’t see you at all—“
“You could’ve answered my messages, we could’ve—“
“So you could return your key? Then things would actually be over. Why do you think I ignored your messages?”
“Why do you think I kept messaging? Angel, I was never going to return that key—at least not willingly—I just wanted to see you, to see if you were doing just as horribly without me as I was without you. You know, I couldn’t even focus on cases—Hotch even suggested I take some time off.”
You frowned, your voice impossibly small. “I’m sorry.”
He took a step toward you, cupping your cheeks in his hands.
“Don’t apologise, you were dealing with your emotions in the best way you knew how. I just wish…” he swallowed, his adam’s apple bobbing. “I wish I hadn’t let you go so easily.”
His eyes were shining and—God, you wished you could take it all back. All the pain you had caused him, caused yourself, just because you were too scared to talk about your feelings.
“I wish I hadn’t left.” You blinked away the tears that were threatening to spill from your eyes. “Y’know, I read a book on astrophysics because it reminded me of you. I didn’t understand any of it but I couldn’t put it down. I still—“ you let out a watery chuckle. “still have it in my bedroom somewhere.”
Spencer smiled, swiping under your eye at a tear that must’ve escaped.
“Yeah? Maybe I can read it to you—help you understand it.”
“I’d like that.”
You didn't know much about celestial bodies or the ultimate fate of the universe, but you could've sworn you'd seen the stars pictured in that book in Spencer’s eyes when he looked at you.
“Say it again.” He mumbled, tilting his head down so that your faces were just inches apart.
“I love you.”
And then his lips were on yours, impossibly soft and everything you had been missing since you had broken up. He kissed you like you were the oxygen he needed and all you could do was sigh into him because you knew the feeling.
He leaned back all too soon, resting his forehead against yours.
“Well, I should probably go—“ He smirked, but you cut him off before he could continue his teasing.
“You’re not funny.”
He narrowed his eyes, sucking his teeth.
“I don’t know, I—“
You pressed a firm hand on his chest, bunching the cotton of his t-shirt into a fist.
“Stop. Stay—we can have a pyjama day and maybe for dinner, you can show me just how tech savvy you’ve become and uber us some food—“
He rolled his eyes, kicking the door shut before pressing his lips to yours with more force this time.
“Stop talking.”
#spencer reid#spencer reid fic#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid x reader#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds fanfiction#spencer reid angst#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid x self insert#spencer reid imagine#criminal minds
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can i request for a mean!spencer x bau!reader? like they are not enemies but there's just this really intense sexual tension with prompts 2, 30, 48, and 49? thank you!
#2 "I wouldn't fuck you if you were the last person on earth.” #30 "You're not as hot as you think you are.” #48 "You belonged to me before I even made you mine.” #49 "I'm so fucking obsessed with you.”
A/N: Thank you for requesting! Sorry it took almost an entire season to get it done 😭 I hope it's as good as you expected it would be :D
Warnings: slight BDSM themes, Dom!Spencer, dry humping, choking, thigh riding, finger sucking, cum play, facial, penetrative sex, use of contraception, probably more that I don't remember right now... 18+ Minors DNI
There was no one you wanted to spend the night with less than Spencer Reid.
He was annoying, and frustrating and most importantly never knew when to shut the fuck up.
No one was better at getting under your skin, and no one seemed to relish it quite like he did. It wasn't that you hated the man, just that he had the presence of an unkillable mosquito in your life.
He was irritating.
“Y/N, are you even listening to me?”
“I try not to make a habit of it,” you rolled your eyes, pushing past the man as you both finally made it to your motel room for the night.
You weren't sure if this was divine punishment or Emily's idea of a joke, but you'd ended up with Reid as your roomie for the next week.
As your case location was remote and as back waters as it could get, you'd ended up needing to bring Penelope Garcia along with you physically. And with only four rooms available, the eight members of your team had to all scramble for acceptable roommates and, having gotten off the jet last, you'd drawn the short straw.
Rossi had been quick to pair up with Luke, citing Spencer's snoring habit as reason enough, and the girls had happily fallen into two pairs. It was your lucky day.
With your hands busy with your bags, you tossed the key to Spencer quickly and waited for him to unlock the door, eager to escape the cold chill of the night.
“Hurry up, Spencer, or we'll both turn into popsicles out here.”
“Not only is that physically impossible, but it also isn't that cold out here, Y/N. Don't you think you're being a bit sensitive.”
You stuck your tongue out at him and he let out a sharp chuckle as he finally managed to unlock the door.
Despite your best wishes, stepping over the threshold didn't solve your problems. Instead it seemed to present even more.
“Fuck, how is it colder in here than it is out there?” You said, shivering violently as you stood in the doorway. If you thought that was reason enough to cure though, you thought you'd practically spit fire when you saw the sleeping arrangements for the night.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Your body forgot its fight to keep warm, letting your blood run cold as you found yourself face to face with one singular, though large, bed. Another cursory glance around, and the heart motifs on the walls and pink themes cushions on the bed suggested that this was likely the motels joke of a Honeymoon Suite.
“Emily did mention that we booked out their last four rooms.” Spencer said, walking up beside you and frowning deeply as he took in the same scene you did.
“She said nothing about the rooms being igloos though, Spencer. I never thought hypothermia was going to be my cause of death after spending the night with you in the room.”
“You think I'd shoot you.”
“I think I'd shoot myself.”
He scowled a little at that and moved to check the room's thermostat. Although it was presently reading 215° so you didn't know how much good that could do.
“There's no sofa,” you grumbled as you watched Spencer move to the small bathroom.
“And there's no hot water. And according to the sign on that table, there's nothing we can do about it until the morning.” You picked up the sign yourself, just to verify and practically moaned in frustration.
“This is insane, we'll freeze to death.”
“It has to drop below 32° in here for us to even possibly freeze death. There's no wind, rain and we have blankets, so maybe you should focus less on being dramatic and more on what we can be doing to warm up.”
“I'm sorry, Doctor Genius, whatever can I do to warm up? Please impart some of your wonderful knowledge on me, I beg.” His eyes flashed with some annoyance and you quietly enjoyed the expression, happy to have affected him as much as he affected you.
“You can start by stripping.” It was his turn to enjoy the abject look of horror that crossed your face in that moment, and you were convinced that of he let even a hint of a laugh out, you'd throttle the man.
“I'm sure you'd just love that,” you grumbled, crossing your arms over your chest.
“Well, there's no water, no thermostat and no other source of heat, so if you're so worried about hypothermia, there's only one solution viable to us right now.”
“You're joking. You want us to huddle together for warmth?” You backed yourself into a corner as you tried to distanced yourself from him as he suddenly began divesting himself of clothing.
As soon as he reached the top buttons of his shirt, you let out a quick squeak and turned around.
“Unless you want me to watch you get undressed too, I suggest you hurry up and do it before I get into bed.”
You quietly cursed and started unwrapping each of your layers, fingers fumbling with the cold already seeped into your skin.
“I am not getting naked, Spencer Reid.”
“I didn't ask you to. Just get comfortable.” You turned around to shoot him a glare, but when you noticed his back was turned - and bare - you lost all memory of the purpose of the movement.
You'd never quite realised before how broad his back was. His shoulders looked strong despite his lithe frame, twisting rather attractively as he pulled his nightshirt over his head. You were almost disappointed that he wasn't facing you, suddenly curious about Spencer Reid's happy trail.
You snapped yourself out of it and continued to change, wrapping your coat around your waist to hide your legs as you switched your pants to your sleep shorts. It was an awkward fumble, but at least the lights were low.
When you were finally ready, your steps back to the bed were hurried and near painful as you felt colder than ever.
Spencer was already there, and without a second thought, you pulled the quilts up and plastered yourself to his side. He was the only thing in the entire room offering you a modicum of warmth, and you weren't going to let your personal hot water bottle go just because everything that came out of his mouth was hot air.
“So you're a big fan of this now, huh?” He said, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you in. Your back was pressed against his chest as you both laid on your sides, piles of duvet and blankets laid out on top of you. You hated to admit it, but this position was comfortable.
Maybe it was just months of working cases non-stop and perpetual singleness, but the feeling of a man at your back was infinitely pleasing.
“Don't expect anything more Spencer Reid. I wouldn't have sex with you if you were the last man alive.” The words were harsh, and if you were being honest, a little bit untrue. Your small peak at his back earlier had definitely sparked an interest in you that was bubbling up in your throat. Like bile.
“You don't have to worry about that. You're actually not as hot as you think you are.” His words were tinged with the same faux bitterness as yours, but you refused to hear it. Instead all you felt was another unpleasant heat spreading throughout you, quiet anger plotting in your stomach.
You knew you probably shouldn't push it, but you needed Spencer to eat those words. Desperately.
Your mind ticked through a few options before landing on one. If you were so unattractive, then surely there's no way he'd physically react to you.
Scooting your body closer to his, you take advantage of the less than comfortable bed, making each of your movements similar to ones you would make when getting comfortable. Except, of course, with the added bonus of making sure your ass pressed directly up against his crotch, moving up and down and grinding into him.
You felt him slightly stiffen behind you, and decided that a few we'll time groans of frustration could go a long way to spurring him on.
So you began letting little gasps and sighs out, graduating to moans when you thought he wouldn't question it, each small movement rubbing against him deliberately.
What you'd failed to remember though, was his hand on your waist. Although you knew he was awake beside you, despite the now late hour and somewhat comfortable bed, his hand held you firm. Or it did until you risking bounced yourself gently against him, and his now limp hand slipped underneath your shirt.
The moan you released then was genuine, the cool touch of his fingers against your burning skin causing you to flush and shiver at the same time. You cursed your earlier self for valuing your comfort over your general peace of mind, because as Spencer's hand once again settles centimetres away from the edge of your boob, you desperately wished for your bra back.
You stopped moving, hoping that if you just pretended to sleep for a few minutes, his hand would reach higher and he'd prove to you that he did think you were attractive. He didn't though, showing off how gentlemanly he was. It pissed you off. Most of his good qualities pissed you off, and you were sure that said more about you than him .
You tried your best to just give in, to even out your breathing and let the black haze of sleep take over but his hands on you were maddening, and you found your body reacting in much the same ways you'd wished him to react.
It didn't help that he'd casually shifted his lower body away from you slightly in your stillness, letting himself fall onto his back rather than his side. As he made this shift, his hand trailed across the expanse of your body before cutting all contact with you altogether.
So much for huddling for warmth if all he had to do to return you to record heats was stroke you like that.
You needed to feel him again, so, feigning the most realistic sleeplike movements you could muster, you turned your body in his direction, and placed your head over his chest. You weren't finished, just proceeding with caution. Your hands obviously fell over his chest, if slightly lower than you'd expect.
It was only when your leg finally came up over his that he broke his silence.
“I know you're awake, Y/N,” he whispered in your ear, a solid hand on your thigh holding it down right over his crotch. You felt your prize and grinned in your sleep.
He was hard. You'd won. It was time to play.
You opened your mouth to purr victoriously at him, but he moved so abruptly you were never expecting it.
Shifting his hands to your ass, he hauled your body over him, letting his hands stay on your hips as he began to help you shift them back and forth. You moaned at the friction, even as your head stayed rested on his chest. The movements were shallow, just a teasing but you already felt more aroused than you had in months. Slowly, your hips started moving for themselves and his hands moved onto more important things.
“Am I suddenly the last man on Earth, Y/N?” He smiled, tipping your head up so you could make eye contact with him.
“Go to hell.”
“I think we're already there, don't you?” With that, his large hands sat you up, meeting with no resistance as you let yourself become pliable.
“Show me.” He whispered, hands right on your hips, pushing into your flesh just a touch part forceful.
“Show you what?” You narrowed your eyes, but you knew exactly what it was he wanted and that you weren't going to out up much a resistance before giving it to him.
“Show me how much you want to fuck me. Since your mouth isn't honest, I'm going to have to listen to your body.” You let your hands fall to his chest, pushing lower until you reached the hem of his shirt. He'd pushed the quilts off of your torso, letting the cold air attack your upper body, so you knew your hands were cold, and the hiss he let out at the contact was satisfying enough to shut up and actually start following his directions.
You shifted your body up and down, grinding and dry humping his crotch, wishing for him to stop being a tease and just get it over with.
He wasn't letting you compromise, though. Each small sound that left your body met with a soft smirk from him, each halt in your movements a prod from his hands. You'd tried to still your hips entirely once out of frustration, but he'd delivered a slap to your ass that had you gushing, desperate to reach a release even if he'd only allow you it this way.
“I don't think you're trying hard enough.” His voice was lower than before, something gravelly to it as he began pulling your clothing off one item at a time. Your sweater went first, before he flipped your positions and shimmered your shorts off your body, taking underwear soon after and then you were bare to him and he was rolling you once again.
“That's better. Now, where were we?” He moved your hips for you again, but his eyes stayed focused in the rigid peaks of your nipples, bouncing with each rock of your hips. You weren't sure if it was the cold temperature of the room or your sheer need to cum that had them reacting, but you knew he was seconds away from wrapping his tongue around one and giving into you, so you just accepted it.
His hands stayed put, still on your hips, though the direct contact was heating you slightly more. If you looked down, you were sure you'd see a wet patch against his sweat pants, so you didn't.
You just moaned and whimpered searching for your orgasm on top of him.
“What's wrong, Y/N? Do you need my help to finish?” He noticed your every insecurity, your weakness and exploited it. You were running close to inconsolable, desperate to hit that climax now, more than ever before, so you just nodded at him profusely, desperate for him to touch you in whatever way he could.
It wasn't his hand you felt on your clit, though. It was your own, he wrapped a hand around your fingers and bought them up to the correct stop, showing you exactly what he'd like to see.
“Touch yourself, Y/N. Touch yourself and wish it was me.” With the friction from grinding against him for so long, the satisfaction from the rigid tent underneath you and your hands taking his guidance, it was really not long before your pussy finally twitched familiarly and sighed, soaking his pants underneath you as you shuddered in delight.
He had to ruin your moment of bliss by talking.
“Is that enough, slut? Or do you really need to be filled right now?”
You didn't care if he saw you sticking your tongue down his throat as you collapsed on top of his chest as an answer to that question, or if he saw it as what it was - a desperate attempt to shut him up. All you knew was that he tasted sweet and hot, and that his hand wrapped around your throat was also hot as he pulled you up and off of him.
“Let me be clear. I am in charge.” A simple shift of his legs was enough to flip your positions, landing on top of you ungrateful, but you didn't care.
Using his new high ground, he wedged your legs open and slid a single finger inside you as you moaned. He too found success in silencing you by sticking his tongue down your throat, forcing you to battle him for dominance you knew he'd never allow you.
Having cum only moments before, you truly believed that there was no way he was going to push another one out of you after so little time. The night was full of surprises though.
As you relaxed into his intrusion, he opened you up with a second finger, then a third. You already felt yourself building towards your end goal, but it was his head dropping to tour cold nipples that finally had you cumming around his fingers. His mouth was wet, tongue warm against your skin, and he toyed with you so effectively, you practically forgot your previous qualms.
“See? You belong to me before I've even made you mine.” It irked you that he was right. Had this been any other man, you're sure you'd be bragging about such passionate sex for weeks with your friends. You were resentful that it was him, but you didn't want it to end yet.
Your arms pulled up to hide your face as he traced kisses up and down your chest, fingers coming free to pay attention to your since abandoned nipples.
“I can't wait to fuck you. You're going to feel so good wrapped around my cock,” he whispered into your ear as he pulled your arms away from your face, making sure your eyes were focused on him before his next line.
“You have no clue what you started. I'm so fucking obsessed with you.”
His hands fell to your face, where his thumb pushed against your lips, slipping into your mouth where you sucked on it, getting it wet as his cock teased the folds of your pussy, running up and down with each gentle push of his hips. You entertained him for a moment before pushing up slightly, his thumb falling from your mouth as you blindly reached for the bedside table. Pulling it open, you were relieved to find what you were looking for.
“If you're so fucking obsessed with me, Spencer, show me.” Carefully unwrapping the package, you grabbed his dick and gently slid the condom onto him, making sure it was secure before you propped yourself back on the pillows, waiting for him to initiate once again.
“Pillow princess. You're acting like I haven't been dreaming of exactly this for the last 12 months.”
You couldn't waste time processing those words before he again ran his cock through the folds of your pussy, then sank himself deep inside you. And you meant deep.
The sudden impact robbed you of your thoughts, pushing out every miserable thought and leaving you with just Spencer and pleasure. The two concepts soon became synonymous as his hips lazily sent him careening in and out of you.
His strokes gained speed gradually until the only words shared between you were the animalistic pants of pleasure, his voice driving you insane as you tried not to get overstimulated before you could cum for a third time.
“Shit, shit, shit, shit, Spencer-” your moans turned to screams as your orgasm rolled over you, his dick hitting just the right spot inside you that forced your nails to bite his skin, and forced your voice to scratch at your throat as it pushed up from your gut.
Noticing your relentless twitching, Spencer immediately pulled out of your cunt, allowing you a moment of reprieve. Pushing up to his knees, he moved to your side, his crotch parallel with your face as he rolled the condom off his dick.
Stroking himself to completion, he came right over your lips, your eyes dripping with lust as you licked them clean, catching the dribbles that fell down your chin with your fingers and popping them into your mouth as well.
After your whorish display of desperation, it took a full ten minutes for your brain function to resume.
In that time, Spencer had cleaned both of you up speedily with a hotel towel, wrapped an arm around you and began spooning you once again, his chest warm and comfortable against your back, his scent intoxicating.
It didn't stop being so when you finally came down from your post-cum bliss.
“You're not allowed to tell anyone what happened tonight,” you said, turning over to look him in the eye.
“Nothing from tonight, got it. What about tomorrow?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, am I allowed to tell them how I plan to wake you up tomorrow, and how your current state of dress made it possible, if not directly invited it?”
You flushed at his words, tingling already at the mention of tomorrow.
“We're sharing a room, Y/N. If you think I'm not going to be inside you whenever were both free, you're entirely mistaken.” His voice was clear - not even a hint of hesitancy in his voice.
“I'm not letting you go that easily, Y/N.”
#spencer reid#criminal minds#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid fanfic#mgg#spencer reid smut#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds fandom#spencer reid x self insert#spencer reid x reader smut#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid criminal minds#dr spencer reid#spencer reid x you
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The brightest
Aaron Hotchner x Sunshine!Reader
In which Hotch’s grumpy reputation may be on the line
Dedicated to my pookie bestie boo @st4rgzer
The Aaron Hotchner had smiled 6 times in 2 days. Spencer counted. It also just so happened that you joined the BAU 2 days ago. You’d transferred from a different unit, where you only worked for a few weeks before they suggested you move to the behavioral analyst unit, namely because you kept profiling, very accurately, and completely on accident. Well it wasn’t exactly an accident, but you had no clue you could make reading people a job, it was always just something you did. It was honestly insanely impressive. What might be more impressive is just how much you lit up the bureau from the moment you walked in. Your smile far brighter than the painfully fluorescent lights, and from the moment Hotch greeted you he knew he was in trouble
Something about your everything has him absolutely enthralled. The way you absentmindedly fidgeted with your shirt, your smile, your laugh, the small comments and jokes you make during conversations, all the small favors you do for the team, all of it had him head over heels.
The rest of the team was starting to get weirded out. In this very moment Emily was trying her best to explain to you that no, Hotch isn’t ‘nice’. He’s caring and fatherly but he’s not ‘nice’. “Honestly it’s really really insane that you’re calling him nice and it’s even more insane that you’re not wrong, I’ve literally never seen him be this nice for this long” she explains, Derek walking up behind her “we talkin about Hotch’s crush on the new kid?” He asks, leaning on the back of Emily’s chair before looking up at you “hey sugar” he says, you wave at him through your laughter. “Guys I highly doubt he has a crush on me” you explain “maybe he just likes me.. as a person” you explain. “Y/n he practically has heart eyes when he talks to you” JJ butts in, Spencer lifting his hand with a thumbs up. Just then Rossi walks in “are any of you working?” He asks, Emily answers “we’re working on convincing y/n that Hotch is in love with them”, Rossi just laughs. Which says a lot more then his words ever could. “See?!” Derek shouts, gesturing to Rossi who’s still laughing to himself.
“See what?” Hotch’s voice rang through the bullpen from where he stood at the balcony infront of his office. “Nothing!” Everyone said in unison, other than you, you just sat with a confused, but amused look on your face. “Y/N, my office” Hotch said, Emily and Derek having to cover their mouths to keep from laughing. You, albeit nervously, walk upstairs and to Hotch’s office. “Sir” you say softly as you walk into his office, he follows behind you. “You’re not in trouble” he says, chuckling softly as he watches your shoulders relax. “That’s good- no actually that’s the best thing I’ve heard all day” you say, exasperated and relieved. “I wanted to make sure you were settling in well” he says, you smile “oh yea it’s been great!” you smile “everyone’s been absolutely lovely! You weren’t lying when you said it’s a family here”, he smiles softly “it’s good to know you’re feeling included” he says, he slides you over a peice of paper. “The higher ups want us to start getting written statements from the new hires, to make sure everything’s running smoothly, would you mind filling this out for me?” He asks, you nod, he starts again “well excuse me for a second” he says as he walks out of his office, closing the door behind him and starring at his team who were all standing as close to the wall as possible without being in the window. “Will you all mind your own business?” He says, a sea of small agreement and apologizing spilling from the team as they walk off, only Rossi staying behind. “Yes?” Hotch says, raising an eyebrow as he waits for Rossi’s inevitable, and probably sarcastic, remark. “Let them get through the first week before you ask them out” Rossi says, laughing to himself as he walks away, Hotch just smiles, once again reminded of the downside of working with profilers.
I genuinely didn’t know how to end this sorrrrrrryyyyyyyyyy!!!!
I love you guys so so so much!
Remember to reblog and tell me what you thought of the fic!! Reblogs and feedback make the world keep spinning!!
#criminal minds x you#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds hotch#criminal minds#aaron hotchner x y/n#aaron hotch fluff#aaron hotch fic#aaron hotch fanfiction#aaron hotchner x you#aaron hotch x reader#aaron hotch imagine#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner#aaron hotch x you#aaron hotch hotchner
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A muted shade of green ✧ Chapter 8: It's a natural progression
genre: will ever write something not angsty?
word count: 6793
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
I decided to give you all a pause from Abigail because we're now turning into an Abigail Hater Club HAHAH
This is the third time you’re saying this, but you’ll keep saying it until Spencer hears you. “I am not relocating.”
“Y/N, if she found out where you are, we need you to be somewhere else,” Spencer groans, but you have no mercy on him; not this time. Not after everything.
His hair is pointing everywhere, surely from the way your stubbornness is making him tug at it like he needs the sting on his scalped to remind him to focus. It’s been almost thirty minutes of you two arguing, and this isn’t exactly the conversation you wanted to have when you first woke up that morning. In fact, you could have lived your entire life without having this conversation and you would probably have been a very, very happy woman. Alas, things never really seem to go your way even when they are going right. And right now, you are far, far away from things going right.
“I am not going to relocate!” You say again, exasperation getting to you the more he insists. Now, your hands are flying around you and it’s like you two have switched places for a second– while he seems tense and immobile, you are gesticulating like crazy, trying to make a point with your entire body; you are not leaving. “I’m done relocating! I’m done being am active case that doesn’t move on! I’m done being thrown around like a doll! Maybe that’s her end game, Spence– have you thought of that?! That she gets some sort of… of… sadistic satisfaction from seeing me squirm away every single time!” You cry out, brows furrowed in frustration. Nothing is making sense to you, and your anger only grows. Why is he so okay with sending you away like it means nothing to you? Why is he not using that big, beautiful brain of his to find other solutions than just rid of you? “I can’t keep running! I can’t keep stopping my life anymore, Spence, I can’t! I–“
An odd sense of coldness comes down on you, like a wave crashing against the walls of your stomach, spreading through your veins, cooling down your stressed out brain. It takes you a little while, but you finally understand. You understand his hesitation, his silence, and you understand it as an answer. “I’ll go home,” You mumble, looking down at your hands. They laid lifeless on your lap, almost like they are now tired from all the talking through them. “Yeah, I– I think that’s the best idea. It’ll be relocating, right? I’ll g back home. You must be tired of me here, anyways, and–“
“Don’t.”
The ice in his voice startles you enough to have you scoffing. “Excuse me?”
“Don’t make this about something that it isn’t,” His voice is in that whisper-scream pitch that you’ve heard him using with other people. Never you, though. Spencer never got this aggravated with you before, not even when you kept leaving your tea bags inside your empty mugs until they were dry. This, the way he is talking right now, is beyond annoyance. This is anger. Spence is angry at you and that doesn’t make you feel any better. “I’m trying to keep you safe.”
“The give up already,” You whisper back, slowly getting up from where you’re sitting. “Because I’m not going anywhere that is not my own apartment across the street.”
The package is still sitting on his counter, and you hate that you can feel it burning deep in your soul. At first, he didn’t want you looking at it, trying to keep you away, but you don’t like when you Spencer keeps secrets and you just push away his hand that is reaching for you. This sounds a bit insane, now that you think back to it, but when you first see the book cover, so familiar you can quote some of its content, you laugh. It’s a daring move, but an effective one– Kill Me If You Can, by James Patterson and Marshall Karp, is all about the chase. And all about the run. “That fucking bitch,” You whisper to yourself, grabbing the book and opening it to the cover page, where her inscription would obviously be– Dear Y/N, Check-mate. What now? XOXO Cat.
You’ve never hurt a book before, but you have half a mind to rip that one to shreds with your bare hands.
“No, no, no, you are relocating and that’s the end of it.”
To Spencer, you are the sweetest of the sweets– sugar pours out of your lips and he had the pleasure to taste it. No way he will risk losing that now, not before he can have a chance to douse himself in them. But every time you cuss, every time you frown, he swears that sugar gets the slightest hint of bitterness, and every time he blushes because of it, every time he lets out a sharp exhale with his eyes fixated on you, he can’t help but wonder how well that bitterness would mix in with your sugar.
Right now, though, you are about to get downright rotten.
“Who the fuck do you think you are, Spencer Reid?” His full name sounds wrong when you feel this pissed off. “You’re not my dad!”
“No, I’m not your dad, I’m your boyfriend, and I’m trying to keep you safe!” This time he screams; he truly, really screams, neck veins popping out and face reddening with the strength of his words. Spencer revels yet another side of himself to you. “I’ve lost enough, okay?! I’ve lost enough… First Maeve, then Gideon, and, a-and, and now you– I can’t lose you! You can’t die, you can’t die on me, and it’s like you keep trying to! You refuse to cooperate, you-you are the most stubborn woman I’ve ever met, and you’ll drive me insane! So please, don’t… don’t let me lose you…”
The way his voice dies out should’ve been enough to get you to quiet down, but tensions are high and now you feel like you’ve just been hit with a brick to the face.
“You’re my what?!”
This is news to you, though it doesn’t seem to be news to him. You’ve been dreaming of hearing that word slipping from his mouth, you won’t lie, but not like this. Not in a fight, and your first fight at that.
Spencer seems shocked at your surprise, and you two go quiet for the first time in what feels like hours.
“Am… Am I not?” You are still in awe of how Spencer can go from zero to a hundred in a matter of seconds. A second ago, he looked like he was about to rip his hair out of his head and now he was back tohis normal bright, wide eyes and fidgeting hands. Whiplash isn’t enough to describe how you’re feeling, staring at him with your mouth hanging open, willing for words to come out but failing every single time. “Oh god, I’m not. I’m sorry, I just assumed that after last night we–“
“Wait, stop, stop, stop!” You shriek, hands going up to cover your face. “I need a second to think!”
“No, you don’t, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, just forget everything I said, I just–“
“I might not have an eidetic memory, but I don’t think I can ever forget what you just said,” You breathe out, hands shaking as you pushed your hair back and away from your face. “Spence… you thought we were dating?”
This has him paralysed. “That’s what you want to talk about? Right now? After everything I said?”
“I want to talk about everything,” You do, you really do; but you need to get this out of your chest right now. You need to start clean. “But we need to talk about this first… because I need to know how to act when we get to the rest of it.”
“What do you mean?”
“Spence, we kissed,” You whisper, hands sliding down your face with a frustrated groan. “And I thought that maybe… I don’t know, I thought we were going somewhere good, you know? Somewhere at all! But then we got to the room and you just pushed me away!”
“I didn’t want you to feel like you had to do anything you didn’t want to!” Spencer defending himself like this feels like you’re living in an alternate reality. To be honest, even if you had had the chance to talk to him like you initially intended to, you weren’t really sure what you’d do after. It wasn’t a situation in which you could predict an outcome, not when it comes to Spencer– he is too good in hiding form the world. Too good in hiding from you. “Y/N, I swear, that’s all! I wanted more, I always want more when it comes to you but I don’t want to get greedy and scare you off.”
“What about the next morning?” If you don’t sit down, you think your legs will buckle under you. So you sink onto the couch, head on your hands trying to keep you from looking at him with hopeful eyes. Spencer doesn’t want to pressure you and you don’t want to pressure him– and just like that you two fall in a cursed, never-ending dance. In a game where both are in defence, no one wins. One of you has to either take a risk or go home crying. And you’re oh so tired of going home crying… “The next morning you didn’t kiss me or, or, or talked to me! I woke up and you weren’t even in bed!”
“I wanted to make you breakfast in bed,” This is getting more and more ridiculous by the second. Had you really jumped the gun here? “But when I got out of the shower, you were already freaking out about Abigail!”
“What– But what about after?!”
“After we talked about Abigail, I got a call from work and you were almost pushing me out of the door yourself!” This time around, you don’t ask anymore questions, not when you can see how exasperated Spencer is getting. “You said–”
“Now is not the time to quote me,” You say as softly as you can. Though sometimes it can sting, having your words thrown back at you, you can’t help but smile every time he does it. The secret is in knowing Spencer isn’t trying to hurt you, but simply attempting to logically solve whatever issue he has to face. What he doesn’t seem to understand though, is that sometimes, the issues of the heart, aren’t logical to begin with.
“I’m just trying to… I don’t know what I’m trying to do, but this is all a bit misunderstanding,” He shuffles closer to you with that look in his eyes that you’ve seen before in the mirror, your own familiar desperation glaring back at you with that lost, confused glint of what will happen next? “Please, I don’t… I don’t have much experience but I– I don’t want to lose you. Y/N, please… help me.”
“Spence, what do you mean?”
“Help me,” He whispers again, worry sketched on his face like it belongs there. His breathing is shallow, and you notice the way his hands wrangle each other in his lap. If anything, he’s trying, and failing, to hide from you for the the first time. As gently as possible, you reach up with a small smile playing on your lips, and you press your thumb to the lines between his brows, soothing them in a back and forth motion. “Help me, I don’t know what to do.”
The way he chuckles in that coy way he does whenever he feels like he’s out of his league is what pushes you forward, the carefulness of your actions clashing with the eagerness in your kiss. You’ve been waiting for this all day, and everything inside you melts when you feel his hands reaching up hold you close, cradling your face as if you’re the most precious thing he has ever touched. There is a slight shake to them when his lips move over yours and you can’t help but smile, laying your smaller hands over his– I got you, you want to tell him. I’ll help you.
“Y/N…” His words hit you with a puff of air, lips brushing against each other every time he speaks. If Spencer pulls back an inch, you follow; if you try to put some distance, he follows. The wall between you two that had been shaken before was now completely shattered, bulldozed by his hands sliding down your neck, your sides, tugging on your waist until you’re as close as you can possibly be. Until you’re on his lap, surrounded his arms, overtaken by him and him only. “Don’t go home.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” You promise, laying your head on his shoulder like you’ve done many other times before. “I’m not relocating.”
“Y/N–”
“Who’s Maeve?”
His body tenses underneath you horribly, and you hate that it’s all because of you. “I–“
“You don’t have to tell me now if you don’t want to,” You say, pushing his hair away from his panicked eyes. “I just want you to know I heard you. I heard you talking about Maeve and Gideon and me, and I think if we want to start… whatever this is… we need to lay our cards down,” It’s a risky move, if anything. Not only are you asking him about his past, you will also allow him to ask about yours, and that is only fair.
“But what is this?” He asks, eyes sharp on yours while you play with his hair to try and distract yourself from the reality of it all. “What are we?”
“I mean, you said you were my boyfriend, right?” You don’t want to be the one to make a decision this big, but then again, it shouldn’t be all him.
“Then what are you?” He mumbled, eyes threatening to shut the more your fingers run through his hair. “Are you my girl?”
A move you don’t really expect from Spencer, but that is welcome nonetheless. The way you two look at each other, like teenagers all giggly about confessing, is equal parts pathetic and hilarious. But it’s the way you two chose to go about it and that is all that matters. Until you remember that this is reality, and you’re not a teenager anymore– there are higher stakes at play here that have to be addressed. There is heartbreak in the end. Pain. Hurt. Fear. That’s what you had before, waiting for you in the end of a very dark tunnel, and you’re scared that’s what will be waiting for you this time around, too. Not because of Spencer, but because of you.
“Joshua McMannon,” You mumble, slowly climbing out of his lap and sitting on the other side of the couch. Like a barrier, you bring your legs up, hugging your knees close to your chest in an action that Spencer will surely read right– separation, space. It happens whenever you talk about Josh, the wave of shame and embarrassment that paralyses you inside-out. The self-loathing. “He was uh, a big shot new player in the stock market, worked for some big firm I forgot the name. We met in a bar, I think. I know this sounds crazy but I blank on a lot of memories that include him, it’s– it’s hard to think back.”
“Y/N–“
“No Spence, I can’t ask about you your past without telling you about mine, that’s not how it works,” You say with such a tone of finality that he doesn’t even try to fight you on it. “So please, just… listen to me. The entire thing, because it makes me look dumb and foolish, I know it does, but I want to be honest with you, I don’t want this coming back later to haunt us, okay? So just… don’t judge me to harshly. Please.”
His silence is enough to encourage you to keep on going.
“You know a bit about it and there isn’t much more to tell, to be very honest,” There are some undertones of anxiety in your voice, and you know he hears it. You know he wants to move, pull you back to him, comfort you, anything. But he respects the shield you’ve put up and he listens, just like you asked. “He was one of those guys that love the chase, you know? Likes showing off, too, so I was always uh, well dressed and all that jazz. Josh hates when I– no. Sorry. Josh hated when I looked sloppy. He worked hard to play hard, according to him, so he wanted to show things off. Expensive restaurants every day, expensive clubs every night… expensive girlfriend all around.”
“No,” Spencer quickly blurts out one of the many words he’s surely holding in. “No, Y/N, you’re not something to show off, you’re not a thing!”
“You’re sweet,” You chuckle. “But I was a thing to Josh. Something he owned, remember? And I fell for it, Spence. I was so, so stupid and desperate that I said nothing, I just went along and played into his fantasy until I couldn’t anymore. So I started talking back. Saying ‘no.’ You know what happens next, I guess. You know his type. I didn’t.”
Gulping, you look down at your hands embarrassedly. Spencer would’ve clocked Josh on the dot. He would’ve known who he was and what he’d do in a second. You, on the other hand, hadn’t been so smart. Probably still aren’t. Probably never will be. It’s hard, not putting yourself down when you’re telling the smartest man you know about such idiotic mistakes.
“Y/N, don’t even think about it,” Spencer hisses and all restraint is gone. He is sliding down the couch to sit close to you, and his hands sneak under your knee and give a gentle tug. He’s trying to respect your need for your own space, but he needs to make sure you’re listening to him. “You’re not dumb. You are not stupid. You are a kind woman with a heart too big for assholes like him, and I won’t have you thinking this was your fault. Sweetheart, this is all his fault. You had nothing to do with that, you… you were just in love.”
“I wasn’t, though,” You whisper, shaking your head slowly. “I really liked him. Like, a lot. But I didn’t love him.”
“It doesn’t matter, sweet girl,” He gently put your legs over his, hands holding onto your calves like it’s his lifeline. “There is no scenario in which this is your fault. None. Do you hear me?”
“I hear you,” You’re not lying– you hear him, you truly do. But believing him is a whole other thing, and you’re not sure if you’re there yet. “I’ve been hearing you, Spence. Every time you explain something new or you tell me some more fun facts, I hear you. It’s just that this time around it’s a little bit harder to process, that’s all.”
“This is a fact like all the other facts I’ve told you,” With one more pull, you get closer and closer to his body until you can feel the press of those perfect lips against your forehead. “It’s irrefutable– none of this is your fault, angel. None of it.”
Nodding, you relax onto his hold, head resting on his shoulder when you deliver the final blow. “Him hitting me wasn’t my fault, I know that much. I ran after that. It sounds a bit drastic, but I had never been in the position before and Josh is someone with a lot of influence back in New York. I would have never survived in there and I would’ve been scared all the time.”
“He touched you?” The way he says it, voice sharp like a knife, makes you look up at him with squinted eyes. “Where?”
“What does it matter?”
“Where did he hurt you?”
Chuckling, you grab his hand and lean your cheek onto it. “Right here,” You whisper, turning a little to drop a kiss on his palm.
“Oh, sweetheart,” Everything about him screams comfort, from how his thumb gently caresses your face to the way his lips pull downwards in disscontempt. You know that by now, he’s making a mental note to run Josh’ name through Garcia, but that is something you will deal with later. Despite their good intentions, that is not a door you want to open any time soon. “I–“
“You will do nothing about it, Spencer Reid,” You say with as a teasing warning. You don’t know that, but Spencer wonders how can you smile while telling him about such terrible memories; how could you withstand pain so well without telling anyone about it before. “Whatever happened happened and it’s done. I just wanted to be honest and give you the full picture before… we make decisions.”
“And what do you think this will accomplish, huh? That it will change my mind? Make me regret it?”
“I don’t know Spence,” You groan. “I’m just… trying to be honest.”
“And I appreciate that, Y/N,” This time, he kisses you on the lips, but it’s too fast and too light to satisfy the yearning inside of you. “But nothing will make me change my mind. Much less that asshole. I want you. I’ve wanted you since I met you, I–”
His pause lingers in the air with a something heavy over it. This time, you shuffle on his lap to try and get a better look of his face, legs holding you up on each side of him. It’s such an intimate position to be in, you straddling him with his hands dragging from your waist to your thighs then back up again; your hands playing with the little curls by the nape of his neck; his lips, opening and closing and opening again in what feels like failed attempt after failed attempt to tell you something.
“I– I think I’ve wanted you since Maeve died.”
There is a lot to unpack in this sentence, but you keep your expression clean of any reaction. He doesn’t need you gasping and fawning over him… he just needs you to listen.
“And I know it sounds messed up and weird, but like, the metaphorical you, you know? The you you are but disembodied and– and now I’m not making any sense, but I mean it.”
“I know you meant it,” You whisper, nails gently scrapping his scalp. “It’s okay, you can not make sense, I’ll figure it out. I’m good with puzzles.”
“You are terrible with puzzles, angel,” He chuckles and your shoulders relax a little. “I’ve seen you trying to put together that Pride and Prejudice poster puzzle… I think you’re just good with me.”
“Hm, I think so to,” You smile. “Why don’t we start from the beginning then? Tell me your story.”
Nodding, Spencer tugged you a bit closer and you like it– this tugging habit of his, the need to have you pressed against him winning against his need to keep the germs at bay. In a very simplistic way, it makes you feel special.
“Maeve… I loved Maeve,” He admits, eyes looking into yours with an insecurity that is misplaced– though you are not above feeling the poke of jealousy down deep in your gut, you are mature enough to know when you are being an absolute idiot, and you smile at him. “I love Maeve, but I am no longer in love with Maeve. I mean, she’s dead, so…” Spencer clears his throat for a second, and when he’s ready– only when he’s ready– he continues.
There is real pain in his voice as he tells you the entire thing, and there is real pain in your voice as you call him name oh so carefully. The tears in his eyes are few, but they are there, and you thumb them away as gently as you can. In your hands is the shell of the man you know, his words slowing down as his brain surely relieves memories he wishes to delete.
“Spencer,” You call, his eyes shut so tight you think he might just hurt himself if he continues like this. “Spence, I’m so sorry that happened.”
“It was my fault,” He whispered as if he is in a confessionary. “Diane Turner. That was the name of the girl that killed her. We were trying to negotiate with her and… and I failed.”
“Spencer, no,” Oh how the tables have turned. “The girl was going to kill Maeve no matter what, and I’m sorry that it came to this. I’m sorry–“ You can’t even say it, confused with your anger and how it makes your hands shake.
She blindfolded him.
She read his letters, his fears, and she made them real.
That is enough to have you wishing you had shot her yourself.
“Sweetheart,” He chuckles sadly, bigger hands coming to encage yours in a futile attempt to extinguish your anger. Bringing your knuckles to his lips, he kisses each and every single one of them, and for a moment you think he knows– he knows you’d be someone you’re not, for him. Someone who hurts other people. And you think he’d hate himself if that ever happened. “It was a long time ago…”
“But it wasn’t your fault…” You move until you embrace him, body covering his like a blanket willing to keep him from the cruel, cruel world around you two. “No matter how long ago it was.”
“I guess that’s just something we both have to learn,” His voice is muffled by your sweater, and you pull back a little. When he offers you his pinky finger, you don’t need any explanation, wrapping yours around it with a giggle. “Something we’ll help each other learn.”
“It’s a deal,” You whisper, leaning forward and dropping a slow kiss to his lips. “Sealed with a kiss.”
“Does this mean that now you’re actually my girlfriend?” He asks after a while and you laugh, loud enough to burst the bubble you two created.
“If you want me to be, yes.”
“I want you to be, in case you haven’t noticed by now,” God, you love when he jokes, the casual tone of his voice making you both relax. “But I also want to be your boyfriend.”
“Hm, you want an awful lot, don’t you?” Pushing his hair back, you smile impossibly wide. “Good think I want a lot, too.” The way he kisses you makes you believe that you truly are the only girl in the world, even if just his world. “Now you have to tell all the guys that hit on you that you are taken.”
“Spence, what guys?!” You snort, eyes wide when you try to move and sit next to him. He is quick to catch you, though, and place you back on his lap.
“Just because you don’t notice people flirting with you doesn’t mean they don’t!”
“Okay, wait a second, I notice–“
“I’ve been flirting with you for months!” He says in that way that makes his voice go a tone higher, his smile so wide and bright that you can’t help but laugh.
“Maybe you’re bad at flirting?”
“Even Garcia noticed,” Spencer points out and you groan, knowing that if you admit defeat he will forever gloat. “But that’s okay. We got there in the end.”
“We did… which is why I’m not relocating.”
“Y/N, this is for your safety.”
“I’m safer closer to you,” You whisper. “Spence, I won’t be safe with god knows how many strangers surrounding me in a location I have no clue how to navigate. Here, I have you and I’m in a familiar place– I know the closest subway, bus stations, taxi points. I know the owner of the cafe down the street, I know your neighbours, hell, I even have Abigail! Isolating me is not safe. Please.”
For a moment, you wait. You’re unsure if you got through to him, his eyes looking at you so intently that it’s a little embarrassing. Everyone knows his brain works differently– it works faster, better, more precisely. Whenever Spence zones out like this, it’s not because of lack of attention, but simply because he’s thinking… and what a wonderful thing it is to see him think; to see those theories taking form in his beautiful head, to see those honey coloured eyes working out probabilities that you’d never even get close to understand. He’s a special one, and you love that about him. Because you love him.
And as much as everything between you two is new, this feeling is quite old.
This growing warmth in your chest, expanding like rivers of gold adoration through your veins.
It’s not surprising that you love Spencer.
It’s only natural, considering how much he loves you.
How you know it?
“Yeah, okay. I’d feel more comfortable with you here with me, anyways.”
Well, it’s obvious.
“And you’re right, you know?” He continues, speeding through his words as if he’s trying to convince you and him both. “You know this area well. Cat has managed to get through us easily, and I don’t know what I’d do if she found you and I was the one to send you all alone to strange place where you can’t ask for help…”
“That won’t happen,” You promise, shaking your head at the terrifying thought. “So does that mean I’ll stay here or go home?”
The reason you enjoy asking Spencer obvious questions is because sometimes, times like this, you get to see his personality shinning like a beacon in a dark night. His sassiness is so refreshing that you can’t help but giggle every time he lets it out. “Don’t be ridiculous,” He mumbled, rolling his eyes like the little know-it-all he is. “You’re obviously staying here. You’re my girlfriend, you’ll stay where I can protect you. Which is also something we have to talk about.”
“Nooo,” You are so tired of talking about things at this point. “Can’t we talk about it tomorrow? Please, I just want to spend one nice evening with my boyfriend without discussing the fact that his psychopathic stalker wants to kill me.”
“Y/N, that is not funny!” He gasps when you chuckle. “Sweetheart, I just want you safe. I think it would be important for us to have a plan if someone ever breaks into my apartment, for example. You should know where my gun is and–“
“Woah, woah, woah, no way!” You shriek, climbing off of his lap and standing right in front of him. The though of having to use a gun makes you nauseous. “I don’t want to know where your gun is, and I don’t want to even think about the possibility of having to actually point it at someone!”
“Okay,” Spencer says softly, getting up too and coming to hug you. Despite people thinking that Spencer is not quite adept to human touch, he has gotten quite good at comforting you, knowing exactly how to hold you and how to talk you down of your rising panic. “That’s okay, it’s okay. We’ll talk about it another day, we don’t have to overwhelm you right now, it’s alright, my angel.”
For a moment, the two of you just… stand there, swaying from side to side while he whispered sweet nothings into your ear. “Can we just be normal for a night and watch a movie?” You finally ask, looking up at his smile because right now, that’s the only thing that matters to you– him.
“Yeah, let’s watch a movie.”
For a few hours, life is perfect.
For a few hours, you get to kiss him like you’ve been meaning to. Touch him like you’ve been meaning to. You get to run your hands through his unruly hair, pushing it back and feeling its softness slip between your fingers like the finest silk that ever was. He touches you, too, albeit a bit more reservedly. His fingers find the sliver of skin on your hip, thumb caressing back and forth, sending shivers up and down your spine. His lips brushed against your cheeks, your neck, your collarbones.
For a few hours, you laugh and smile and chat. You memorise more fun facts to put on your little notebook later, now secure on the left bedside table, right next to where you lay every night. He tells you how the movie doesn’t make logical sense and how they have physics all wrong. He points at the screen and his voice gets higher and higher with his passion for correcting fiction and you can’t help but shut him up with a languid kiss.
For a few hours, you two are just a couple. This is just a date. And this are just good.
But the higher you climb, the better it gets, the harder you’ll fall. This might just be what Cat wants– you, in perpetual anxiety, always looking over your shoulder, always scared of losing the little you were able to build in your new life. From what Spence and his team have told you about her, Cat’s main skills are all mental; manipulation, gaslighting, coercing. Is this how you’re going to end? Terrified with ever step you take, antsy at your boyfriend’s house while watching a movie, giving up on your bookshop so that strangers don’t have such an easy access to your life?
For a few hours, you didn’t have to worry about that.
For a few hours only… because once the second movie is done, you two are forced to pull apart thanks to the incessant knocking on Spencer’s door. “If this is Abigail again,” Spencer warns as he gets up, lips all swollen from kissing and making out. “I will arrest her.”
“On what grounds, agent?” You hug a pillow close to you, completely ignorant to your current messy hair and blushed face.
“Cockblocking,” It’s so rare to hear such a word coming from someone like Spence that you can’t help but burst out laughing. “JJ?”
The name has your smile slipping a little. Why is JJ here? Did something happen? The moment Spencer opens the door, she’s marching inside, her beautiful blonde hair floating in the air as if she is some sort of magical being. “Spence, what the fuck?!” She cried out, completely oblivious to your presence in the couch. “Why are you not picking up your phone? I’ve been calling– Hotch mentioned something about you not taking Y/N to a secondary location, are you insane?! You can’t take care of her all by yourself, she’ll–“
You clear your throat as loud as you can, smiling sadly at her when she turns around with a shocked expression. “Hi, JJ.”
“Y/N, I’m– I’m so sorry, I didn’t know you were here…”
“She is,” Spencer suddenly sounds quiet, eyes cast down as if he’s a child who’s been caught red-handed doing something wrong. But then he raises his head, chin high and chest puffing out a little. “And she’ll stay here with me. Y/N doesn’t want to be moved to a secondary location, and considering we don’t know who Cat’s secondary is, I wouldn’t say it’s wise for us to do so. She’ll be alone in an unknown place. I… I would prefer if she’s here. With me. And officer Kaper.”
JJ’s eyes go wide and you can understand her surprise to hear her usually shy and quiet co-worker being so adamant. Hell, even you are a little bit surprised. “What you prefer?! Spence, this is not about what you prefer! This is about– oh my god, you two were making out.”
Her observation is so dry that you almost choke on air. “What?!” His voice is a dead give away. Or maybe it’s the way you wince, looking away from her, that gives you two away. “JJ, this is none–“
“You are having an interpersonal relationship with a victim under our protection in an active case,” It’s the way she describes you as a victim, as if that’s the only thing you are to her, that makes you exhale harshly. “Yes, Spencer, this is my business.”
“Uhm, technically–“
“Y/N, I’m sorry, but not now,” She speaks to you like a mother, and from what Spence has told you about her, you know that she has two wonderful boys. Two kids for her to mother. You, however, are not one of them.
Slowly rising up from the couch, your voice is shaky when you speak, but your proud of yourself regardless– confrontation is not your best suit, some might say it’s your worst suit, but there is no escape this time around. Not if you want to stay with Spencer. “I’m sorry, JJ, but yes, now. I’m the one this is all happening to. I’m not a passive participant in all of this and I do get to make choices, even if those choices are against your recommendation. I chose to stay here. Not Spence.”
“Why here? Why not–“
“I know the area!” You basically squeak, frowning deeply at her. The JJ you know is sweet and soft-spoken. This JJ is… well, not that. This JJ is someone who gets the job done. This JJ sees you as a job. And that hurts. “Cat knows you guys, she has shown us again and again that she is one step ahead– look at what happened to Officer Kaper. He has a family! His wife and kids were there and– fuck, JJ, if something happens here, I know where to go! I know where to run to, I know the back alleys, I know the people… I can’t handle you guys taking me away from everything I know again. I can’t, I’m sorry, I just can’t, I–“
“Hey, hey, it’s okay, you’re not going anywhere,” In a second, Spencer is by your side, arms pulling you into his chest. “You’re stay here, sweetheart.”
“Spence–“
“JJ, do you think I’m stupid?” The question shocks the words out of both of you. “I calculated the odds, okay? I know the risks. I know the pros and cons. But do you know what else I know? I know that when we thought Maeve was safe, her stalker was in her apartment. We put her under protective custody, and Diane still got to her. She could’ve been with me, I could’ve saved her!”
JJ doesn’t speak, and neither do you. You are frozen in place. Spencer had told you about Maeve just hours ago, described the entire thing, told you all the details of what happened back then… but he never touched on the now. On how he feels now. On how he remembers the whole thing now. On how it still affected him now. You can feel the anxiety on the way his breath shudders. The anger in his words, the regret, the fucking guilt As gently as you can, you circle his waist and squeeze. There is a part of you that hates doing this in front of someone else, giving them a part of this reality in which only you and Spencer exist; but he need to know you’re still here. Next to him, where he can keep you safe. “Maeve wasn’t your fault, Spencer,” JJ whispers, and you see in her a glimpse of the woman you’ve met before. “It wasn’t your fault…”
“But this is!” He shouts back, stopping himself from lurching forward thanks to your body glued to his. Instead, he cradles your head closer, shuts his eyes tights, and let out the most pitiful exhale you’ve ever heard. “This is my fault… Y/N wouldn’t be in this position if it wasn’t for me.”
“Spence–“ You can’t even deny it. Logically, it is his fault this is happening– Cat is after you simply because she’s after him. That is undeniable, and you lose yourself in the endless search of what to tell him, how to comfort him. This is your Spence. Your boyfriend. And you don’t want this type of phantasmagoric guilt hovering over his head over the course of your relationship. This is how things end before they begin.
“I won’t let her take Y/N away from me,” When he looks at JJ again, you gasp. His eyes shine with a determination you’ve never seen before, jaw tense and hands holding you to him like he means in. This time around, you know he means is. “Not now, not ever.”
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