#spencer reid x fem!OC

[piqtescue]

this photo is rewiring my brain

[asteiioss]

Soft curls

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!reader

Warnings/Content: fluff, no smut, bathing together, mentions of sex (indirectly)

Word Count: 1.2k

A/N: I'm usually inspired to write by songs. And this one was just inspired by "Sweet." Aside from that, I always imagined what it would look like if Spencer came home after a long case, so exhausted after it only to be left at the mercy and help of his lover. So enjoy reading the fantasies I come up with in broad daylight. :)

Spencer came home late that day. Not the usual late, but the late late version where most of the normal people were already getting ready for bed or maybe even asleep aready. The sensor lights turned on as he reached his last flight of stairs, where he was just a few steps away from his home. Taking out his keys, he struggled to git the apartment key in the door, so it made a clacking sound as he missed a few times.

When he finally placed the key in the door, he unlocked it and breathed out heavily, from tiredness and relief that he was finally home after days of handling a very hard case. He was welcomed by the sight of his girlfriend curled up in a blanket on the couch, one of the small pillows supporting her back while she held a book in her hands. She had her hair tied up in a messy bun she probably just picked up with one hand movement. There wasn't much light in the room aside from the small streaks of light that the corner lamp was casting. And that was perfect because the exhausted Dr. Spencer Reid wasn't ready to deal with flashing lights right now.

His girlfriend looked up from her book to see him still standing on the doorway, taking in the sight of her, and she softly smiled at her dear lover. "Hello, handsome. You finally found the way home, huh?"

Spencer didn't say anything. He just smiled and closed the door behind him. Throwing his bag over his head, he just left it on the floor next to the entrance and, with tired steps, came up to his girlfriend. She placed a bookmark in between the pages she was lastly reading and closed her book to leave it aside. Opening the blanket as a come here sign for him, he climbed on top of her, his legs and arms at her sides, before he placed his head on her chest. She threw the blanket over the small of his back before her hands dragged slowly across his entire back with her fingertips, gently scratching him.

"I missed you." He mumbled against her chest, groaning at her hand movement over his shirt. The tension of his muscles slowly evaporated with every new touch.

"I missed you too, honey." She said as she changed the pace of her scratches, moving her hands over his shoulders and down his arms. Spencer didn't waste time before he wrapped his arms around her back to pull her a little closer to him, even though she couldn't physically be closer to him. But it didn't matter. He felt like on cloud nine.

"Can I sleep on you tonight?" He mumbled again, his voice muffled into the fabric of her pajamas, his face buried in her. As he heavily breathed, he didn't hesitate to take in her scent.

She chuckled at his request, making his head jump from the hich of her giggle. He smiled at his forced movement. "Honey, you'll be lucky if I make it half an hour like this. You're heavy." She shifted under him, trying to make herself more comfortable under the pressures of his entire bodyweight. "And, besides, you should go take a shower. Your shirt is sticking to your back, and it will make you feel better." She said as she continued scratching his back up and down, going over his shoulders every couple of times.

"I can't. I'll just be sticky and stinky until tomorrow." He, again, muffled against her chest, not being bothered to raise his head so he could speak more clearly.

She giggled, again making his head jump slightly at the raising and falling of her chest. He smiled at the quiet sounds of her laughter. "Not on my watch, Dr. Reid." She changed the routine of her scratches, moving up his neck and letting her fingers intertwine with his curls. "Your hair could use a wash too." She continued as she played with his hair.

"I really can't. Please don't make me." He protested.

"How about this -" she started, taking a small strand of his hair and putting it behind his ear. "I'll go and prepare a bath for you. That way, you can get cleaned and enjoy a nice, warm, relaxing soak. How does that sound?" She whispered, lowering her head to his so he could heat her better.

Now, this suggestion was worth lifting his head for Spencer. He quickly looked up, his eyes sleepy. Looking at her with one eye open, he smiled. "That sounds good." He nodded. "But under one condition."

She tilted her head, interested in what he was thinking about. "Please, do tell, good sir." She said in a british accent, which made him chuckle.

"You join me."

She pressed her lips together, them slowly moving into a smirk on her face as his words sunk into her. Spencer was a good boy. There was no doubt about that. The nerdy profiler couldn't possibly be anything else. Right? Behind four walls with his lover, he was a new person. Not many people knew. "Fine." She answered shortly and moved forward to reach his lips with hers. Kissing them softly, she could feel the exhaustion in him. "But no funny business, okay? I'm not up for any of that."

"Pinky promise." He raised his pinky finger and let her wrap hers around it.

It didn't take long for her to prepare everything. Warm water filled with bubbles, the bathroom smelled on lavender from the scented candles she lit instead of turning on the light. She prepared a bodywash and shampoo her boyfriend could reach out to easily, and placed a new pair of towels and a bathrobe for the two on the small desk next yo the tub.

After they both took off their clothes, she was the first one to get in. Slowly sinking in her body inch by inch, she sat at the end of the tub, making enough space for him to join her. He sat in front of her, his back facing her, letting himself sink into her embrace.

"You really are tired, huh?" She let her hands fall over his shoulders onto his chest. He mumbled a confirmation as he couldn't hold back his head anymore and just let it fall back onto her.

"Could you wash my hair?" He turned slightly to look into her eyes, making a puppy face.

She smiled as she brushed his cheek with her finger. She lowered herself onto his lips, kissing him. The kiss was tired and sloppy. Lazy from both sides yet full of love. "Okay." She said when she broke the kiss.

Reaching out for the shampoo, she poured it into her hand and brushed her hands together to spread the shampoo easily over his hair. She used her fingers as a brush to go through the damp strands of his curls. Meanwhile, Spencer would let out a groan here and there when he couldn't control the enjoyment of the sensation.

"I love you, you know that, right?" He shifted in the tub to turn around and sit face to face with her. His hair was covered in shampoo that dripped on the sides of his face. She placed her hands on both sides of his neck, her palms drawn up to slowly make circles on his jaw and, in no regular pattern, went over his cheek.

"Is that because I just bathed you, or maybe you need another favor?" She smirked as she looked at his tired face. Pulling him closer, she only touched the tip of her lips with his, not really kissing him all the way. He breathed out, his breath hitting her skin as he was eager to feel her.

"I just love you." His lips caressed hers, and she could feel his desire to just kiss her.

"I love you too." She said and finally kissed him. Again, the lazy and sloppy his was slow and loving. He moved his hands to her hips that were in the soapy water. Pulling her in, she had no choice but to obligate. With the small space they were in, she was forced to sit on his lap so she could be as close as she was to him. Wrapping her legs around his torso, she deepened the kiss, and it instantly became passionate.

Spencer smiled against her lips while holding her lower back so she didn't slip off his lap. "I thought you said no funny business."

Backing away, she looked him with a small smirk on her face. "I did. And I'm sticking to my words. I just wanted to kiss you. I spent over a week without those kisses, and I missed them."

He hummed in satisfaction, but knowing he felt the same way. He began being hungry for her after such a long time they spent apart. But it was routine. His job included that non-warning traveling pretty often. But she was understanding and never really complained to him about his absence, mostly because it was out of his control, and he would always make sure to make up to her.

"Let me whrince this soap off of your head." She reached over to the shower head, and as she turned back to him, he was spreading the shampoo over his short beard. "Is that you, Santa?" She said in a high-pitched voice.

"Ho ho ho." Spencer used his most deep goice he could find and tilted his head from side to with each sound he made. She started laughing, and he followed, going over to kiss her neck, leaving soapy patches on her skin. She turned on the water and sprayed him, forcing him to back up.

"Bad Santa, you didn't get me the bike I wanted as a kid." She continued spraying him with water as he tried to block it with his hand.

"I wonder why." He said after she stopped attacking him. She gasped and chuckled at his words.

[gghostwriter]

Yours Truly, Romeo Masterlist

Spencer Reid x FOC

Summary: Washington, DC - A string of grizzly murders and obsessive love letters causes Olivia and Spencer’s paths to intertwine. With a serial killer proclaiming his undying devotion to her and the thick tension surrounding her and her agent turned bodyguard, Olivia’s life is writing out like a contemporary love story that she, as a successful writer, could see herself publishing.

Tropes - Strangers to Lovers, Mystery, Romance

Final number of chapters below.

Chapter 0 __ No Escape Chapter 1 __ Case File No. 576 Chapter 2 __ No Evidence, No Leads Chapter 3 __ Possible Connection Chapter 4 __ The Profile & The Profiler Chapter 5 __ Paris Chapter 6 __ Fortune's Fool Chapter 7 __ Violent Delights Chapter 8 __ Violent Ends Chapters 9 __ Daylight Epilogue __ Ever After

a/n: please do not repost anywhere else. I only post here on Tumblr and on ao3. Would also like to hear any comments or feedback from you!

[toooster]

My dumbass just read my own fic.

I was like “omg they copied my fic” then I realized it was mine 😭

[esote-rika]

Once Upon a Dream | Spencer Reid

i. parting is such sweet sorrow | prev chapter | next chapter | series masterlist

Contents: mentions of sleepwalking, spells and potions, infidelity A/N: This is set after season 15, so no real cases, but it will make references to certain plotlines so be careful with the spoilers if you haven’t made it that far! Please leave a comment, I love reading them and interacting with you guys! Thank you for reading <3 bisous.

For as long as she can remember, Jet has shared a bed with her little sister. It had never been discussed or contested. From the moment Lenore was old enough to be out of her crib, she slept next to her big sister. 

Nobody batted an eye, really, because despite the age gap of four years, the sisters moved almost like twins. They used to do everything together, went to the same schools, got the same teachers.

They could even be mistaken for twins, with their matching dark hair and round, girlish faces. The only noticeable difference is Leni's blue eyes in comparison to Jet's dark brown ones.

However, even as they grew up, even as the differences between them grew more pronounced and Jet began to fry her hair with bleach (at first it had been a dare, but then she had grown to like how it looked) which further distinguished their appearance from each other, they continued to share a bed.

It’s one of those things that just is. 

Like the way Jet can pinpoint someone's exact mood and temperament, or the way Leni always knows if it's going to rain. 

The practice was partly for practical reasons. It helped with their sleep talking—somehow, whenever one of them starts talking in their sleep, the other wakes up and puts a stop to whatever words are being mumbled in that hazy, subconscious state. 

—Stopping the sleep talker is important, for whatever they utter in their dreams, in this state of in-between, might be made manifest in the real world. The girls had almost a sixth sense for each other in these moments. 

Admittedly, this made sleepovers awkward; Jet's peers didn't always want to hang out with a younger girl, and without Leni to put a stop to the sleep talking, it’s difficult to explain why sometimes the group having the sleepover would wake up covered in chicken feathers (Jet had a phase of dreaming about flying, specifically flying with wings, and her childlike magic manifested that into different sorts of feathers.)

Jet took matters into her own hands; she simply stopped going to sleepovers where Leni isn't welcome. 

Their sleeping habits only strengthened during the death of their parents, an unfortunate car crash that left them orphaned. Sent off to live with their eccentric aunts in a small town in Massachusetts where everything is new and baffling, the girls found solace with each other. 

Unfortunately, their small haven only lasted so long. At eighteen, Jet got accepted into a university in the city, with a scholarship offer that was too good to pass up. And so she packed her bags, armed with a citrine crystal and a sleeping concoction of chamomile and a secret ingredient Leni refused to name in order to make sure Jet sleeps deeply. 

Without sleep talking.

It was difficult, being so far from each other, but Jet was diligent, always, always telling Leni where she is, so that in case something happens to her, there would be a trail to track. Leni, for her part, lit Jet’s favorite candle every night, the one that smells of cinnamon and amber, and mutters a few words of safety for her older sister.

The year is 20─ and Jet has finally learned how to use Uber. And by that, it means she’s found a way around the protection curse. In the past, she had tried to book a ride, but her location just would not show up on her phone, as it had always done for basically her entire life.

Until recently. The idea had come from a colleague at the law firm she works in, who had been (rightfully so) paranoid about putting her address out into an application. Instead, she would pin a location at least two streets away, and when the driver is nearing that street, she’d walk the short distance to meet her ride there.

Jet is a little annoyed she herself hadn’t thought of that sooner. 

But she did learn it at a perfect time, because on the 18th of August, she had driven to this penthouse party with Lucas, but she was going to be leaving without him. 

Because, you see, decent people will stop flirting once they find a partner. Especially when they declare exclusivity.

Jet had thought she and Lucas were exclusive.

That is, until his wife had cornered her at this penthouse party, screaming bloody murder.

Jet had been too stunned to even defend herself, even though she’s been working around enough lawyers to know exactly what to say during a confrontation like this. But the complete betrayal of the situation had rendered her completely speechless. He made her the other woman, the rat bastard.

She couldn’t explain that she didn’t know because the wife had grabbed the bowl of cheese dip and hurled it straight at Jet. It spilled everywhere, even got in her left eye which promptly watered and gave off the impression that she’s crying. As if she would ever cry for a man. The last time she did was for her father, several months after the funeral. But it looked like she was crying on that night, the 18th of August, cheddar flavored tears burning down her face in ugly streaks.

What a humiliating affair. 

Jet had run down the stairs as fast as she could, and Lucas, the treacherous rat, had run after her. Go back to your wife, she had wanted to scream at him, don’t chase after me, I’m not taking you back. And for her sake, I hope she doesn’t either.

It only took her hiding in the fire escape to lose him. (Or perhaps he gave up quickly; Jet isn’t sure if that’s the work of her curse, or Lucas’ own pitiful attempts.)

With trembling hands, she had managed to book a ride. The Uber driver had been sympathetic, but he also eyed her cheese stained blouse warily. 

“Just don’t get it all over my seats, all right, miss?” the man had said with a chuckle, as though the whole thing was a joke. Jet certainly feels like it is. The universe playing a long, cruel joke on her for six goddamned months. 

Okay, so maybe her favorite candle had refused to light whenever she invited Lucas to her apartment, and she had always dreamed of him with another woman. But he’d said she was just paranoid, and Jet had to admit she had a tendency to be paranoid. And that she liked that he knew she was paranoid. 

She liked that he knew her, from the specific shade of blonde dye she used to the sizes of her shoes (it was a women’s six in open sandals, but a 7 in closed shoes and boots.) And so she had ignored the signs, and continued to date him, liking the fact that finally, a man had taken enough time to get to know her.

In the meantime, she didn’t know him.

She isn’t sad about the revelation; sadness would have ached in her stomach, made her chest feel hollow. But that night, Jet had felt as though she would burst. She was angry. So angry that the car’s speed would not go below 20 mph, despite whatever attempts the Uber driver made to slow down.

No, she didn’t want to slow down. She wanted to get home as fast as she could, open up whatever book of curses she could get her hands on, and begin one for Lucas, the fucking rat’s asshole.

When they had arrived at her building, she had thrown a crisp bill at the driver, apologizing for her rudeness and telling him to keep the change, then rushed all the way up to her apartment on the third floor. Jet had every intention of cursing Lucas at that moment, but when she reached her bed, the emotional exhaustion of the night finally took a toll.

Instead of finding the spell book, she had stripped off her cheesy clothes, murmured a spell to make sure the dip and color didn’t stain, and crawled under the covers, missing Leni. Leni would have stayed up and cursed Lucas for her. Something silly and inconvenient, like Lucas never finding his matching socks. He had a perfectionist streak, and liked things to be orderly, and mismatched socks would have made his everyday life miserable.

But she was so tired that she promptly fell asleep even without drinking the tea to keep herself from the habit of sleep talking. She wonders if she’d see her sister in dreamland.

Instead her dreams are filled with mismatched socks and a pair of scruffy converse.

[mrs-dr-reid]

Babysitting

(A Spencer Reid x Fem!OC Fic)

Pairing: Dad!Spencer Reid x Mom!Adri Carmichael (my CM OC)

Summary: Spencer is charged with babysitting the LaMontagne boys as well as little Addie Carmichael-Reid while the BAU Ladies have a night out

Genre: Fluff, Dad!Spence Brainrot

Warnings: Toothrotting fluff, Dad!Spence (need I say more?)

A/N: This is something I finished writing solely for my Discord friend, Ozzie. But also because I love writing Spencer's interactions with my OC after they have their daughter. Also, I'm not gonna bother switching this out of diary-entry style, so have fun with that. Also also, Henry is like 8, Michael is 6 months old, Addie is 2 months old, and my faceclaim for Adri is Amanda Seyfried. Just throwing that out there

Word Count: 1467

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Status Report:

I just witnessed the cutest thing in the world. I was out with Tara, JJ, and Penelope for a ladies night, and Spencer volunteered to watch all three kiddos (Henry, Michael, and Addie) for the evening because Will was planning on going out with some of his old coworkers at the police station and was concerned about finding a sitter so last minute. Spencer brought me and Addie over to JJ and Will’s because he insisted it would be easier to bring Addie there instead of bringing the boys to our place, and I went upstairs to get ready with the ladies. At the same time, Will gave Spencer the rundown on what the boys needed to get done while we were out. I found everyone in JJ and Will’s master bathroom, and we started getting ready. Tara said, “Are we sure Reid can handle three kids all at once?”, while putting on mascara, so JJ replied, “Well, he did a pretty good job with Henry last time we went out for a ladies' night,” while curling her hair, and both Penelope and I let out joking shudders because all of us got AWFUL hangovers from that night, and Spencer still hasn’t let us forget that we didn’t come back until after sunrise when we said we’d only be gone a couple hours. It also didn’t help that the next morning we had to go support Hotch at his triathlon and all of us were MISERABLE from how bright it was and from all the cheering.

Once we were all ready, we went back downstairs to find Spencer already doing a kid’s puzzle with Henry while bouncing Michael and Addie on his knees. I melted at the sweetness of the scene, then went over to kiss him on the lips before I said, “We shouldn’t be out any later than midnight. I’m the designated driver and JJ isn’t drinking, so we’ll make sure we don’t leave you hanging all night,” which earned a pointed look and a, “Thank god,” from him. I giggled, then squatted down and said, “You’ll be good for Daddy, right?”, to Addie, who flapped her little arms and babbled happily at me. I smiled and said, “Good,” before kissing her nose with a comically exaggerated “Mwah!” sound to make her laugh, then standing up and calling, “Let’s go, Ladies! Party time waits for no one!”, the girls following me out the door while extending their thank you’s to Spencer, who just held up a hand and told us to have fun. And fun, we had. I honestly can’t remember the last time I got to hang out with my best gal pals outside of work like that. We obviously didn’t get up to the same level of debauchery as last time since JJ and I stayed sober the whole night to keep the other ladies on track (still being breastfeeders meant no alcohol for us), but we still had a good time.

Tara and Penelope were giggling messes the whole way back to JJ and Will’s due to the large but still reasonable amount of alcohol they consumed, and we pulled into the driveway at about a quarter after 11. Tara and Penelope were staying the night in the guest bedroom, so they quietly dragged their inebriated butts upstairs while JJ and I followed behind them with lovingly exasperated looks on our faces. The tv was still on and playing what I think was a Spider-Man cartoon, and when I saw a familiar mop of unruly hair poking over the back of the couch, I put out a hand to stop JJ from walking and pointed. She nodded, then the two of us tiptoed around to the front of the couch and proceeded to melt, because Spencer was fast asleep on the couch with Henry snuggled into his side and both Michael and Addie knocked out on his chest. Both of us whipped out our phones and took several pictures (making sure the flash wasn’t on so we wouldn’t wake them up), then I went over and kissed Spencer’s forehead before whispering, “Honey, we’re back,” which made his nose scrunch before he opened his eyes while mumbling, “Mmm, what time is it?”

I smiled and said, “20 after 11. Tara and Penny are staying the night, so I was gonna help JJ bring the boys up to bed before I bring you guys home,” so he said, “No, you go put Addie in the car, I’ll help JJ and pack up Addie’s stuff,” while gesturing for me to grab our daughter off of his chest. I did so, then he very carefully handed Michael to JJ before he scooped Henry up and nodded for JJ to go in front of him. He whispered, “I’ll be out in a minute, okay?”, so I whispered back, “Okay,” he smiled, then pressed a chaste kiss to my lips before following JJ upstairs to the boys’ rooms. I shook my head fondly as I watched him go, then strapped Addie into her car seat and brought her out to the car, her not stirring even a little bit the whole time (if there’s one thing she inherited from me, it’s my ability to sleep like the dead in any circumstance). I started up the car (double-checking that the radio was off first), and then Spencer made his way out and plunked into the passenger seat. I giggled, and he let out an only slightly melodramatic sigh before saying, “Thank you for not being out until sunrise again,” so I replied, “You’re welcome. Thank you for taking care of the Three Stooges all night,” which made him wave a hand and say, “Anything for my favorite ladies. Now let’s go home,” causing me to roll my eyes lovingly before saying, “As you wish, My Love,” and pulling out of the driveway.

We made it back to the apartment, and Spencer got out of the car to grab Addie’s car seat while insisting I go ahead and get ready for bed since he was already in a hoodie and sweatpants. I gave in, then as I was taking my makeup off in our bathroom after changing into some pajamas, I heard Addie babbling nonsensically and Spencer talking indistinctly. I went back into our bedroom to find him walking around with a swaddled-up Addie in his arms, and every time she let out a coo or a squeak, he’d say something like, “Really? I never knew that,” or, “Wow, Precious, that’s incredible!”, which made my heart practically turn to mush and a dopey, love-sick smile spread across my face. Spencer turned around to see me standing there, and his smile got even bigger before he teased, “Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” which made me scoff and say, “Photographic memory, Wise Guy. Don’t need to,” earning an eye roll from my partner.

I walked over to him, then said, “You get in bed, I’ll put her back to sleep,” and when he said, “You sure, Adri?”, I said, “Yes, Love, now give me my Little Lady,” while holding out my hands expectantly. He chuckled, then handed me Addie before kissing my forehead, crawling into bed, and grabbing the book he was rereading for the eighth time. I said, “Okay, Baby Genius, time for your bedtime song,” while adjusting Addie’s blanket, and Addie reached up to grab at my finger as I started to sing, “Edelweiss, Edelweiss, every morning you greet me. Small and white, clean and bright. You look happy to meet me,” Addie cooing at me while I rocked her back and forth. She fell asleep after two choruses, so I very carefully slid her into her crib and tucked her in before whispering, “Sweet Dreams, Miss Adeline,” and climbing into bed beside Spencer, who was looking at me with more love in his eyes than the day we finally told the team we were together.

He whispered, “You’re incredible, Adri. You know that, right?”, so I replied, “You tell me every day, My Love. I know. You’re pretty fantastic, too,” before leaning closer and pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. He smiled against my mouth, then when I pulled away, he quirked an eyebrow at me and said, “Bedtime?”, which made me let out a tiny snort and confirm, “Bedtime,” making another smile spread across his face. He turned the lamp on his bedside table off, and I snuggled against his chest while letting out a content sigh. I felt his lips press against the top of my head and I heard him whisper, “I adore you, Adrienne Carmichael,” so I whispered back, “I adore you too, Spencer Reid,” before letting the sweet caress of sleep overtake me. That’ll be all for now. Talk soon!

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CM Taglist: @homoose, @libraryofloveletters, @xgoldentigerlilyx, @less-intelligent-spencerreid, @boketto2-0, @aryaarathornson, @spoookymuulders, @nomajdetective

Let me know in the comments if you want to be added

[dream-a-little-bigger-x]

Begin Again: Chapter Three | Spencer Reid

Add yourself to my taglist! | Here’s my masterlist!

Chapter Three: I Know Who Did It

<< Chapter Two

Pairing: Spencer Reid x OC!Charlotte Morris

Warnings: mention of a murder, language

Author's note: I think I love Spencer and Charlotte, not gonna lie...

Words: 2.6K

 “Charlotte, this is the team. Agent Morgan, Prentiss, Hotchner, Rossi, Technical Analyst Penelope Garcia and Doctor–”

“Spencer Reid…” Charlotte murmured, not even registering any of the other names the blonde was summing up. His eyes widened ever so softly as if he was surprised she even remembered him. 

When she finally tore her gaze off him, his coworkers were looking at the two of them with wide-eyed, mouth-ajar looks on their faces as though they had just figured something out that had brought them the greatest joy. 

“We, uh, went to school together,” she quickly defended herself, shaking her head and letting out an awkward chuckle, though she couldn’t stop sneaking glances at him. 

He’d grown taller. His hair was still long, but it was curly now when it had been straight when they met seventeen years ago. He had grown out of that baby face and instead got a sharp jawline and defined cheekbones. 

Charlotte couldn’t lie that the kid she knew had grown up into an attractive young man. 

“I think we better get started,” Agent Hotchner then cut in, biting back that proud smirk of his. “Miss Morris, can you tell us where to set up?” 

Inhaling sharply, Charlotte nodded her head and motioned for the team to follow her. “Sure, we’ve cleared out the meeting room for you guys. And, please, call me Charlotte.” She guided them to the end of the hallway where the smaller meeting room was. “This is all yours. If you need anything, please, come and find me or any of the hotel staff. There’s coffee in the lobby. Bathroom is right down the hall. The Sheriff will be here in a couple minutes.” 

“Thank you, Charlotte,” said Aaron before getting started. 

“Oh, Charlotte, quick question,” Penelope captured her attention. “Could I get into your security cameras?” 

Nodding her head, Charlotte placed her hand on Penelope’s arm. “Sure thing, Sugar. I’ll send out Ben to help you out with that. He’s our tech guy.” 

“Thanks.” 

Charlotte gave Penelope a curt nod and turned on her heel to leave when she was stopped by someone else grabbing her elbow. 

“Hey, Charlotte.” 

When she turned, she was met with a pair of beautiful hazel eyes that searched her face for some sort of recognition. Her knees buckled ever so slightly, but she could pick herself back up and recompose before very coolly saying, “Yes, Dr. Reid?” 

Spencer chuckled awkwardly, his gaze casting to the floor. “Uh, it’s-it’s nice to see you again.” 

“You too, Spencer.” She took a few steps before turning back with a smirk on her face. “Hey, you better hurry. Last bus leaves in five minutes.” 

Leaving him with a dizzy head and a heart beating a thousand miles an hour, Charlotte made her way back to the back office where she helped Valencia call every single one of the guests that were supposed to arrive today to tell them they were being relocated. It wasn’t the most fun job, but it had to be done. They were not going to be able to host anyone for the coming week. 

“I’m sorry, ma’am, unfortunately, this is out of my hands. I wish I could do more, but all I can do is give you another place to stay.” As Charlotte spoke to the woman on the phone, she noticed two of the agents approaching. She looked up and gave them a smile. “The Riverside Hotel is incredibly nice, ma’am. I promise you, you’ll be in very good hands.” 

“Can we get any compensation for this?” 

Charlotte tried her hardest not to let out a sigh of her frustration. “No, ma’am, I’m terribly sorry, but there’s nothing more we can do. We’ll send you the details of the hotel, so then all you have to do is go there, sit back and relax. I promise you, it’s gonna be as good as it would be here.” 

The woman on the other side of the line did sigh. “I mean, I guess–” She muttered before hanging up very rudely. 

Rolling her eyes, Charlotte put down the phone and brought her gaze up to Spencer and Derek. Spencer’s hazel eyes locked with hers and Charlotte couldn’t help the smile curling her lips upwards. 

“Hi,” she greeted, “Can I help you guys?” 

Spencer opened his mouth to say something, then halted and glanced over towards his coworker as if to ask for his permission to speak. “Yeah, we have to ask you a couple of questions, if that’s all right. It’s just routine.” He offered her a tender smile. 

“Yeah, sure,” Charlotte nodded. “Let’s go into my office?” 

The two men nodded before following Charlotte towards her office. She let them walk in first and then shut the door behind her. There was a nervous flutter in the pit of her stomach as she motioned for them to take a seat. 

“Charlotte, how long have you been the manager here?” Derek questioned. 

She furrowed her brows in thought. “For a little over four years, I think. Worked five years at reception, five years housekeeping before that.” 

“So fourteen years here,” Derek pointed out and Charlotte nodded in agreement. “Did something unusual happen over the last couple weeks? Any guests feeling uncomfortable about another guest? Anyone of your staff acting weird?” 

Allowing herself to think back over the last few weeks, Charlotte took a moment before answering. “No… No, I don’t think so. I mean, it’s been pretty busy the last few weeks, so we’ve been focusing on making sure our housekeeping team is happy and can get their work done, making sure we have enough staff to handle the breakfast shift. I-I haven’t really been able to stop and check with the guests. Our team at the front desk are the ones who come in contact with our guests the most.” 

 “Has housekeeping told you anything about any weird guests?” Spencer then queried, his serious face softening when Charlotte’s eyes landed on him. Ever since that night seventeen years ago when she had saved him, Charlotte had been Spencer’s weak spot. 

A chuckle rolled over her lips. “Yeah, all the time. But not in the creepy-murderer-type of way, more like gross old white men asking to sleep with them. I-It’s happened a lot before and our girls know how to deal with that.”

“Do you have any identification of the person renting out room 304?” Derek asked. 

“Yeah, I checked it, they’ve given us false identification. They checked in as Joey Tribbiani with the first murder,” Charlotte chuckled and shook her head. “He had a fake ID, we knew that, but we also respect people’s privacy, so we don’t force them to give their actual name, you know?” 

“On what name did he check in last time?” asked Spencer. 

Charlotte’s eyes flicked towards Spencer, her face fell. “Uhm, Alexa Lisben…” 

The twenty-nine-year-old suddenly flashed back to seventeen years ago when he was stripped naked and bound to a goalpost. All of that started with Alex Lisben, too. “A-Alexa Lisben?” 

“Yeah,” Charlotte whispered. “A-at first I thought it was gonna be her, and I was kinda excited to show her where I had ended up, you know?” She chuckled at how ridiculous she sounded. “But when I asked my reception team who had checked in, they said it was a man in a dress with a sunhat and sunglasses. He was actually kinda rude.” 

Derek nodded his head while Spencer’s mind was racing. “Who was the one checking him in?” 

“Uhm, lemme double check that,” she mumbled and grabbed the schedule on her desk. “That would be Britt and Lana.” 

“Are they in today?” 

Charlotte shook her head. “Not yet. They’re supposed to come in at four, but I’m not sure if I’m gonna let anyone come in at this point.” 

“We’re gonna need to talk to everyone who worked that day or in the last couple of days. Uh, reception team, housekeeping, breakfast team. Anyone who was around, would be great.” 

Nodding her head, Charlotte heaved in a deep breath. “I-I’ll try to get everyone in as soon as I can.” 

This whole investigation was taking a toll on her. It was exhausting to take care of everything; contacting all the guests, future and present, asking all her employees to come in to be questioned by the FBI, recounting her own steps. 

She rubbed her hands over her face, letting her fingers glide through her long blonde hair. 

“Okay, thank you, Charlotte,” Derek nodded with a tender smile before sliding his chair back. Spencer and Charlotte followed his example and walked out of the office, back into the lobby where Valencia was still calling the guests. 

“I’m gonna make some coffee. Anyone else want some?” Charlotte asked before her eyes fell on the couple walking into the hotel. The familiar faces of Thomas and Yanisha caused a weight to fall off her shoulders. “Tommy,” she sighed before rushing towards him and embracing him tightly. 

She needed to feel the familiarity of Thomas’ arms around her to pick her back up. 

“Is there anything we can do?” Yanisha asked, her brown doe-eyes swimming with worry. 

Charlotte stepped back from her hug with Thomas and looked around. “Maybe, uhm, maybe help Val and Andreas calling up the guests and canceling them for the upcoming week?” Thomas and Yanisha nodded their heads. “I’ll make some coffee for everyone.” 

With her mind preoccupied and completely zoned out, Charlotte started making coffee for everyone. The adrenaline had gotten her this far without breaking down, but she wasn’t sure how long she was going to be able to keep it together. 

She handed a cup to Thomas, Yanisha and Valencia and checked up on them quickly before heading down to the meeting room to get a cup to Derek and Spencer. When she walked into the meeting room, she just found one of the agents sitting at the round table with shreds of paper around him. 

“Oh, hey, where’s the rest of the team?” she asked while handing him his cup and setting the one she initially got for Derek down. She sipped the third coffee, allowing the bitter liquid to wake up her senses. 

“Prentiss and Rossi are upstairs, Hotch and Morgan went to the police department with JJ. Penelope is with Ben –” he explained, then looked at his cup of coffee. “Do you have any sugar?” 

Charlotte nodded and moved over to the cupboard in the corner, opening one of the drawers and taking out a small packet of sugar and tossing it to Spencer. 

“Do you have any more?” he chuckled. With an amused smile on her face, Charlotte grabbed the basket and placed it in front of him on the table. “Thanks.” 

“You’re welcome,” she smiled and watched as he put at least five packets in his coffee. “So, what are you doing?” 

Spencer inhaled deeply before sitting back and taking a quick sip of his coffee. “The scraps of paper that were found in the room. I’m trying to put them back together to read it.” Charlotte placed her hand on the table and leaned over his shoulder to watch along. 

“Do you need any help?” she asked, making Spencer look up at her. 

His hazel eyes met her green ones, causing a spark to zip through her. Both of them faltered, suddenly forgetting about why they were here in the first place. Just looking at each other brought them back to high school when Charlotte stopped Bradley Logan and his gang from bullying Spencer. 

“Your hair–” he then said. “It’s not pink anymore.” 

Charlotte chuckled and straightened up to brush a hand through her long blonde hair. “No, I kinda grew bored of it at nineteen. Grew it out and let the pink fade until I got my natural color again.” 

“I like it,” Spencer smiled before his eyes flicked towards the hallways where he saw Thomas and Val walking around. “So, uh, you and that guy? What’s the story there?” 

Charlotte looked up to find her two best friends and chuckled. “That’s my roommate, Thomas. We dated, briefly, but we quickly realized that we worked better as friends. So…” She looked at him and noticed the curious sparkle in his eyes. “I am completely single at the moment. It’s, uh, not easy to run a hotel and maintain a healthy relationship. I’ve tried – and failed.” 

“Yeah,” Spencer chuckled. “I know what you mean. My job isn’t too easy for any form of romantic life either.” 

Exhaling through her nose, Charlotte took a seat next to him and overlooked the shreds of paper scattered in front of them. “All right, what do you have?” she asked, but before he could answer, the chipper and colorful Penelope entered the meeting room. 

“I found something,” she told them, out of breath, and beckoned them to follow her towards the back office where she was combing through security footage with Ben from tech. “Just two days ago, he was at the front desk, flirting with a blonde girl that wasn’t you.” 

Penelope sat down in front of the computer and showed the footage to Spencer and Charlotte. “Th-that’s Lana.” 

“What else do you know about her?” Spencer asked. 

“Uhm, she’s a student, trying to pay for college with what she earns here. She’s about twenty, outgoing, and kind-hearted. She’s a hard worker and smiles at everyone,” Charlotte introduced her employee to the agent. 

Spencer nodded his head. “Ask her to come in. I’ll have Morgan and Emily talk to her.” 

With a quick nod, Charlotte rushed to her office for her phone and called Lana in. She felt like they were getting closer to finding out who had done this. And for once, she felt like she was being useful. Something her parents would never call her. 

“Anything else, Spencer?” she asked, her phone clutched in her hand. 

For a second, Spencer faltered, but he then quickly recomposed himself, remembering he was on the job. “Can you help me with the puzzle? Garcia, I’m gonna need you to keep looking for anything you can find about this man.” 

“Val,” Charlotte captured her best friend’s attention. “When Lana gets here, tell her to stay put and introduce her to Agent Morgan.” Valencia nodded her head determinedly. “How are we doing on the relocations?” 

“Everyone checking in today has been contacted and sent the new details. Thomas and Nisha are up to Friday by now,” Valencia briefed her boss, earning a nod and a smile from the blonde. 

“All right,” Charlotte whispered before turning back to Spencer. “Let’s go.” 

Spencer and Charlotte made it back to the meeting room where they started on their puzzle. Their hands bumped every now and again as they tried to reach for pieces across the table, and it sent sparks up their arms. Awkward giggles filled the rooms while the only other sound bouncing off the walls were their theories. 

“Wait, Charlotte,” Spencer mumbled as he pieced something together. “This says your name right here.” He pointed to the letter he had put together. 

“CHA-RLO-TTE,” it read. 

Furrowing her brows, Charlotte looked at the letter. Her shoulder was pressed against Spencer’s as she leaned over. She was suddenly hyper-aware of his presence and every touch felt like fire. But the cozy, warm kind on a cold winter’s night. 

“Oh my God,” she whispered just as Derek and Emily entered the meeting room, followed by Hotch and Rossi. Her eyes landed on the team, wide and filled with fear. 

“What’s going on?” Hotch questioned. 

“I know who did it.”

Everything taglist: @calamitykaty @n0wornever @wanniiieeee @unnowhatthisistbh

Criminal Minds Taglist: @boimlers-gonna-boim @samsbirks @tinaasthings @dysphoricsanity @love4lando @elenamoncada-ibarra @r-3dlips @magstheslayer @astess @sylvcaplath @tillypettitt @mordechaisworld @ssameadows @spikedhe4rt @spencers-bookworm @littlemissaddict @kirbybean

[aperrywilliams]

Green Card - Ch6: And if It Were True? (Spencer Reid x Fem!OC)

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Author Masterlist / Series Masterlist

Previous chapter < > Next chapter

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Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!OC (Ana María González)

Series summary: What reason leads two complete strangers to marry? For Spencer, the chance of his mom being admitted into a new medical trial. For Ana María González is to get the elusive green card.

Chapter summary: Ana and Spencer share some intimate memories and truths, and they start to feel confused about their new friendship.

Word Count:  6k

CW: I marked this one like 16+. Please respect that. Strong words. They talk about blood and medical stuff. Spencer has nightmares. Mention of Spencer's abduction and addiction. Semi-nudity and sexy dancing (fem). Mention semi-nudity (male). Description of molestation episodes as a child and danger of rape (not consumed). Mention of suicide, murder, and rape (none of the characters involved). If I forgot something, let me know.

A/N: This was a bit hard to write, but it gives more context about Ana's life before coming to the US.

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"That can't be credible. A transplant in one hour? By a kid of sixteen?" Spencer complained, pointing to the TV.

"Hey! They were in a hurry, and it was not any guy. We're talking about Doogie Howser," Ana clarified, sipping her tea.

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Still, I can't believe they made it. Did you know the record time for a massive emergency team response in Los Angeles is 4.5 minutes? Here they did it in 2.5! That's ridiculous!"

Ana narrowed her eyes.

"We are still clear this is fiction, right?"

"I know! But I suppose they wanted to make it believable. That's my point."

Ana and Spencer just ended up watching the entire show's first season. Both were absorbed by the screen enough not to pay too much attention to the clock until the credits of the last episode.

"We are going to regret this in the morning," Ana anticipated, standing from the couch and stretching a little. Spencer nodded in agreement.

She was right, but for Spencer, these were the best hours of his last week. And not because of how good a show Doogie Howser was, but rather because he turned off his brain for a while. And all thanks to Ana's insistence. If Spencer felt anything at this moment, it was gratitude and appreciation for her. 

True to her word, Ana didn't ask or insist that Spencer get to talk about what had him so frustrated.

They both tacitly agreed it was time to sleep. Without saying a word, they walked until they reached the door of their respective rooms.

"Good night," Ana said, just about to enter her room.

"Ana?" Spencer stopped her.

"Yeah?" she asked curiously.

"Thank you. For today. For everything, truth be told."

"Don't mention it. Sleep well. You need it, mister accuracy," the girl joked, pointing to his chest. Spencer chuckled.

"Sleep well too. Good night."

And as unbelievable as it sounds, Spencer slept great that night, waking up from only a few hours of sleep.

On the way to work, he couldn't help but remember last night's coming and going of comments about the television show, making a smile appear on his face.

What was all this? Definitely something new for him. Something he partly had with his friends at the BAU, but it was not the same. Spencer felt an unspoken complicity with Ana that he couldn't place with anyone else. Not with Maeve, that's for sure.

He had never gotten to that stage with Maeve—something as simple as doing anything, reading, watching TV, even going to the movies.

No, the activities with her were going out to dinner, visiting museums and conferences, and catching up with sexy time. She spontaneously appeared at the BAU and met Spencer's colleagues only a few times. At most, she agreed to go to one of Rossi's dinners, but the taste of the evening got somewhat bitter. She didn't look comfortable, and neither did Spencer. From then on, Maeve disappeared from the BAU's radar.

"Hey Reid, you look pretty good compared to how you left the bullpen yesterday," Luke pointed as soon as Spencer arrived at his desk.

"I had a good night of sleep, I guess?" he offered as an explanation, although he knew it was more than that.

"Nice to hear. The bad thing is Penelope already called us with a new case to the conference room," the guy shrugged apologicately. Spencer sighed, his good mood faltering a little.

The case looked worse than the one they wrapped yesterday, and Spencer couldn't hide his disgust. At the police station, flipping between the case file, his mind wasn't really there.

'What will she be doing right now?', 'Will she have ended her shift right now?', 'Maybe I should make the dinner when I get back,' 'I should ask Rossi for a recipe to try.'

Spencer stopped suddenly when he realized where his mind had gone. Why was he thinking of her? It wasn't bad, but the man felt odd doing it. They were still strangers in need. Friends to some extent. Roommates for necessity. It wasn't right.

"Are you okay, Spence?" JJ's voice pulled him out of his thoughts.

"Yeah. Yeah," Spencer assured, returning to the file he was reading.

But things didn't improve for Spencer. In two days, the case turned into a mess when they found the unsub was using religious motives to kidnap, drug, and torture his victims until they died. The similarities didn't go unnoticed by Spencer or the team. Hankel. Too vastly matching what Tobias Hankel did.

Spencer sidelined himself a couple of times from discussions about the case and could not participate in the take-down to arrest the unsub. Emily understood Spencer's reluctance but was worried about the consequences this might have on him later.

Back in Virginia, Spencer was drained and only thinking about sleep until next week—something odd for someone as workaholic as him.

His teammates looked shocked at how Spencer was the first to cross the glass doors out once Emily sent them home after the debriefing.

Disappointment found Spencer when he realized the apartment was dark. Nobody was there. What was he expecting? Be greeted by Ana, who would have waited for him? Yeah, maybe he did expect that.

Huffing for his own silliness, Spencer walked to the kitchen. His stomach grumbled, and he didn't want to go to bed without eating again. The smile returned to his face when in the fridge found a Tupperware with a note on it: 'A leftover if you haven't eaten yet.'

Those little gestures have made Spencer's heart swell. Was it the fact nobody had made things like this for him before? Was the idea of having someone thinking of him? Spencer didn't know, but whatever it was, he was afraid of the consequences.

He left a note over the counter in case he couldn't see Ana the next day: 'Thank you. I promise dinner is up to me next time. And don't worry; I won't cook.'

The note caused the desired effect when Ana read it a couple of hours after when she returned. Chuckling, she moved to the sink to fill a glass of water before bed. Ana soon walked the corridor to her room when a sound from Spencer's room stopped her. It was faint, but she was sure to hear it. A whimper? A sob? Cautiously, she neared her ear to the wooden door. And then a scream.

"Let go of me! Let me go!" Now it was clear, it was Spencer's voice, and it seemed he was struggling with someone. Ana opened the door without much thought and saw the man jittering on the mattress, covered with sweat. His arms were fighting with the air, and his voice strangled with tears.

"Please, let me go!" He repeated over and over.

What should she do? Clearly, he was having a nightmare, but was it a good idea to intervene? The main concern for Ana was Spencer could hurt himself. She knew about vivid nightmares, and that kind of outcome wasn't rare. Slowly she approached his bed, speaking in a soft voice.

"Spencer? Can you hear me? It's me, Ana. Can I come closer?"

Spencer kept tosing, wiggling his arms as he tried to fight against something or someone.

"They want to kill me. Don't let him kill me, please," he begged, still dreaming. Ana dared to hover over Spencer, tentatively touching one of his arms.

"They won't do anything. Spencer, you are in your apartment. We are alone here. Please wake up," she encouraged him.

"I don't want to die. Please, tell him I don't want to die," he cried.

That broke Ana's heart. Now more confident, she sat beside him on the mattress, holding his hands and rubbing them in smooth patterns. Spencer's breathing was still irregular, but it seemed he was waking up.

His eyes shot open, and seeing Ana's face broke the dam. He was fully crying now, hiding his face on Ana's lap.

"Hey, you're okay. You're safe," Ana mumbled, rubbing Spencer's back.

"No. I'm not," he sobbed, clutching at Ana's sweater. He looked so vulnerable it cracked her heart.

Ana wondered about what horrible things had happened to Spencer's beautiful soul. She had some ideas, but he hadn't told her much yet.

"I promise you're safe. I'm not letting anything bad happen to you, okay?"

She didn't know where those words came from. Ana wasn't even sure what was happening, yet she felt the urge to protect him at all costs.

Still rubbing his back, Ana held him until his sobs became sporadical sniffles. Maybe it took five minutes or ten; Ana wasn't sure, but when she saw how Spencer's breathing evened out, she felt things were improving.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, still not able to let go of his grasp of Ana's sweater. "I did you wake up," he apologized, drying his tears with the sleeve of his pajama shirt.

"Nu-uh. Don't be sorry, Spencer. You were having a nightmare. A nasty one, I would say. And if it makes you feel better, I just came home. I was heading to my room when I heard you," she explained, reaching for some locks of hair that covered his face. Spencer sighed, now fully conscious of his surroundings.

"I haven't had one like this in a long time. I sure scared you with my screams," Spencer mumbled, embarrassed.

"I would say more than scaring, I worried. Can I ask you something, though?"

Spencer's eyes found hers, almost fearing the question was coming. Ana noticed.

"No, you don't have to tell me what happened, but it would be a good idea if you changed your pajama. It's damped, and it wouldn't be good to keep it like that on your skin. And you could use a warm cup of tea. Conozco un secreto para hacer una agüita milagrosa, especial para estos casos (I know how to make a cup of miraculous brew for this specific purpose).” Spencer frowned.

"Agüita? Like little water?" 

Ana chuckled.

"It's more like 'brebaje especial,' or medicinal tea," she explained. Spencer hummed. Even if he managed to understand most of Ana's Spanish, there were words still too specific for him. He liked to learn about them, though.

"Come on. Change your clothes and join me in the living room, okay?"

When Spencer came to the living room with a new pajama and a robe covering his frame, Ana walked from the kitchen with two mugs. Sitting on the couch, she handed him a cup.

"It's hot, but it'll help. I promise."

They kept silent for a while. Spencer carefully sipped his brebaje. It tasted bitter, but he felt better after a few drinks. Ana did not say a word, not wanting to disturb him.

"He drugged me," Spencer mumbled suddenly. Ana looked at him, confused. "Hankel. Tobias Hankel," he clarified.

"The guy who kidnapped you?" Ana asked, remembering what the BAU girls told her at Rossi's. Spencer nodded.

"The team says I died, and he brought me back. I don't remember much; he kept me drugged constantly. With Dilaudid." The images and flashes came to Spencer's mind as he recounted what happened.

"Jeez, Spencer. I'm sorry," Ana mumbled, clutching her mug tighter. She suspected where this was going.

"Worst part was I got addicted. I struggled to come clean. I have been sober for ten years now. But when the nightmares come, I still think of getting high," Spencer sighed. "I'm so weak."

Immediately Ana's free hand flew to one of his biceps.

"No. You are not. Cravings happen. You fight every day against that, and you're here, still fighting."

Ana was determined not to let Spencer go into that rabbit hole. She knew how vulnerable he felt but would do anything to help him.

"But sometimes I feel so tired. You know, I - the last case. The unsub was drugging his victims like Hankel did with me. And I asked myself, why can't I stop them? Why do more people have to put up with that? And then I think a hit could make everything easier."

Spencer's words rang heavy in the air. It wasn't the first time he thought about that, but maybe it was the first time he voiced it.

"But you know the hit at the end won't make go away those things, right?" Ana prompted.

"Yeah. I know. And then I think about what you told me the other day. About why I'm still doing this," Spencer mentioned.

"I wasn't trying to impose my perspective. I'm sorry if it sounded like that," Ana hastened to apologize, and Spencer's hand went over hers to reassure her.

"It was a valid question. It is a valid question, indeed. Don't apologize. The thing is, I found myself wondering the same, you know?"

Ana sighed, she could see his struggle, and the urge to do anything to ease his pain increased.

"You are a good man, Spencer. You should know that. And it's completely valid if you want different things in life. It doesn't mean you have to shut down everything, but you can see changes as good things and not so terrifying," Ana told him, squeezing his hand. It was a gesture they got used to. Her hand on his felt comforting and right. Spencer looked at her with a sheepish smile on his face.

"Thank you. And I'm sorry for overwhelming you with my - you know - things."

Ana shook her head.

"Don't be sorry. I'm happy to help. Also, I told you I was a good listener," she reminded him, releasing his hand to pat his knee.

"I can be a good listener too. I mean, if you need to. I know you said you didn't like to talk about yourself that much, but if you need to, I would be happy to hear you," Spencer offered, shyly looking at Ana. She returned him a smile.

"Thank you. I appreciate it. And I'll keep it in mind, okay?" Ana paused. "How do you feel now?" now she asked, pointing to his mug. Spencer looked at the empty cup. He did feel better.

"Way better. I would say this 'agüita' worked," Spencer confessed. "You were right." Ana chuckled, Spencer's Spanish accent wasn't the best, but she found it cute.

They kept talking for a while until he saw how tired Ana was. Despite her offering to stay up with him, Spencer insisted he was fine and both should go to sleep. Reluctantly, Ana agreed.

After that night, Spencer started to feel more confused. For him, Ana was still an enigma in many ways. Despite his skills as a profiler, he could tell the armor she placed in front of her rarely allowed him to see beyond. He had no doubt Ana was a powerful and tenacious woman with a difficult past. But whenever they came up with the subject of her life before coming to the US, she tended to say general things and then move the topic elsewhere.

He wanted to know more. Sure, he told himself it was for the best outcome in the interview, but deep down, there was something else, and he couldn't pinpoint it.

How much time had he left to find out?

During another case happening in Los Angeles, Spencer's phone chimed with a text. It was from Ana.

'I just got a letter from Immigration. They scheduled our interview for July 3rd.'

That's a month from there, Spencer estimated. He didn't know how to feel, to be honest. In a month, things would be over. Ana would go with her life, and they would part ways.

It was what they both wanted, right?

Ana told herself the same. As she got the letter, her anxiety thrived. It would happen eventually, but she wasn't sure how to feel about it. She had grown closer to Spencer in the almost two months they had been 'living together.' But she knew it wasn't her place, and it wasn't her life. The guy needed to get back his life, and she must move on with hers. Period.

A heatwave stroked hard in DC on the first days of June. Ana was displeased, so one of those days, when she got to the apartment after a long shift, she took a cold shower and decided to keep out of clothes except for a sports bra and panties. Spencer wasn't home, he left for a case four days ago, so it was no harm. She cooked dinner and ate watching a TV show. When she was done, it was still early, so she decided to tidy up the place. With her earbuds on, Ana chose her 'aseo playlist' and started to work.

A while later, she was so immersed in the music she didn't hear the front door open.

"Ana?" Spencer called once he realized the lights were on, but he got no response.

He wasn't prepared for what he entered in his living room. Ana was sweeping the floor while she danced and sang to the rhythm of a song.

'The lights are on, but you're not home

Your mind is not your own

Your heart sweats, your body shakes

Another kiss is what it takes.'

But seeing her dancing wasn't the only thing that captivated Spencer; it was her outfit or lack thereof. Spencer's eyes fixated on Ana's exposed skin as he felt his cheeks burning - and other parts of his body too.

'Whoa, you like to think that you're immune to the stuff, oh yeah. 

It's closer to the truth to say you can't get enough. You know you're gonna have to face it; 

You're addicted to love.'

Without knowing what was going on behind her back, Ana kept performing to - for her - a non-existing audience. The cadence of the music made her hips move sensually. An open-mouthed Spencer watched as this beautiful - and almost naked - woman danced. Still scanning her body, he noticed a tattoo on her back and another on her right ribcage.

It was wrong, he knew, but he couldn't stop looking at her.

The charm bubble burst once Ana turned around to find a stunned Spencer staring at her.

"Oh, fuck!" Ana almost tripped with the broomstick, which fell to the floor. "Spencer! I didn't see you coming!" she yelled, pulling out her earbuds.

Spencer still couldn't say a word. He tried to keep his composure and gaze at her eyes, not her body. Then is when Ana realized her appearance. Little she could do for it, though.

"Shit. I'm sorry. I know this is inappropriate, but I didn't know you would be coming home today," she apologized, trying to cover herself behind the counter.

"I - uh, sorry. I should have texted. We caught the guy early this morning," he explained, averting his gaze to any direction but her.

"Good! That's good!" she nervously chirped.

Spencer knew he had to move. Ana was feeling enough embarrassment, and it wasn't right.

"Uh. I'm going to change. Don't mind me. You can resume your - well, what you were doing," Spencer said, still nervous but trying to sound calm and forcing his legs to cooperate and walk out of the living room.

"Oh. Okay. I can heat some dinner for you in the meantime. Well, after I put on some clothes," Ana half-joked as Spencer sauntered to his room as fast as he could.

Heat. What a choice of words, he thought.

"Thank you!" he called before shutting his bedroom door.

Ana felt mortified. It wasn't the fact she was almost naked dancing in the living room, or maybe it was, but it was more the fact Spencer saw her like that, so exposed.

She would never admit it, but she had also seen the boy in almost no clothes getting out of the shower one morning. Clearly, she didn't mention it to him. Ana realized the kind of domesticity they were hauling and how it could expose them in this way. It's not that she didn't like the idea; it was more that she liked it too much.

Spencer tried to forget what he saw that night. Still, even without an eidetic memory, he wouldn't—another reason why Spencer was captivated by Ana. But he wouldn't do anything about it; he was in a relationship with Maeve and didn't want to mess it up.

However, Spencer started to question his own decision.

It was one of the rare days of paperwork in which he could leave the BAU early. Spencer was grateful for it; the exhaustion from the previous case still had him wishing he could sleep for days.

Spencer was about to put the key in the lock when he heard a loud sound from inside, presumably a glass breaking. In fully-alerted mode, he pulled out his gun and carefully opened the door.

He kept frozen on the spot when he saw Ana yelling at the top of her lungs while knocking on the kitchen counter and throwing another glass to the wall.

"Hijo de puta! Maldito bastardo! (Son of the bitch! Bloody bastard!)"

That's when Spencer reacted, holstering his gun and slowly approaching Ana.

What the hell had happened?

"Ana? Hey, hey! What's wrong?" Spencer tried to call her attention, but Ana didn't acknowledge his presence yet. When their eyes met, Ana stopped shouting but still panted and disoriented.

"Qué me estás mirando, ah? También te vas a reir en mi cara? (What are you looking at?! Are you going to laugh at me too?!" the girl asked angrily. Spencer's face was pure confusion.

"What? No-I - what are you talking about?"

"You're not different from them. Nobody is different," Ana kept babbling, eyes to the ceiling to stop the tears pooling from her eyes.

Spencer's concern grew. He's seen people lose their temper like that in his line of work, and not for nothing.

"Ana, talk to me. What happened?"

That's when the girl broke; falling to her knees, she covered her face with both hands, fully crying now. Spencer quickly knelt in front of her to envelop her in a tight embrace.

"Hey, it's okay. It's going to be okay," he reassured, stroking her hair. Ana hid her face in Spencer's chest, crying disconsolately.

"I made a mess," she whined, clutching Spencer's cardigan.

"It doesn't matter. It's not important. Do you want to tell me what's wrong? How can I help?"

Ana contemplated her answer for a while. Spencer deserved an explanation for what was happening. She could have lied about it, but it wasn't fair to him, and she didn't have the energy to.

"I thought I could just forget it, you know? Maybe like that, I could have convinced myself that nothing wrong happened," she sighed.

"Come on, let's go to sit down," Spencer offered, getting up from the floor, helping Ana to do the same, and leading her to the sofa, avoiding the scattered glass shards on the floor.

Seeing she still had trouble breathing steadily, Spencer grabbed her hand and encouraged her to mimic him. Inhaling deeply and exhaling in the same way.

After a couple of minutes doing so, Ana nodded. She felt capable of talking.

"I know you already have noticed I avoid talking about a specific part of my past. Part of my childhood, to be specific. It's not I wanted to hide something from you instead from myself. I have never told anyone about this. I never even told my mom before she died."

Ana shifted in her spot on the couch. Suddenly her throat went dry.

"In my family, well, on my mother's side, blood ties have always been tremendously valued. My mom leaned on her family, especially after my dad left us. In fact, we lived with an aunt for several months until my mom managed to find an apartment that could afford both of us.

At that time, in the house, my aunt lived with his husband and their son. I almost didn't see my uncle; he worked all day. And as the money wasn't enough, my aunt found a job too. My mom doubled shifts at her job, partially to make money and partly to forget her husband had left her. That meant I was alone with my cousin almost every afternoon I got back from school."

Ana paused to gauge Spencer's reaction. He was listening intently to every word. And even if he was running every possible turn in her story in his brain, his trained poker face didn't reveal anything.

"I was a 9-year-old girl, barely trying to understand why her dad was no longer with her. I didn't know much about anything. Just my mom always told me to be careful around strangers. That's why it didn't seem weird to me when my sixteen-year-cousin got very close to me, coincidentally when we were alone. At first, he would agree to play any game I could think of with me. Dolls, cars, PlayStation, whatever. The problem began when he wanted to decide what game to play. The way he looked at me went unnoticed by me at first. But something in my gut told me it wasn't okay when once we were playing doctor-patient, and he wanted me to take off my dress. He convinced me somehow. And I was so confused. God, I thought it was part of the game. That time he only watched me for a long time. The next time it happened, he touched me, fortunately, nowhere intimate part. Every time, he was increasing the risk. The next time it happened, he - he tried to touch me down there, but out of instinct, I didn't let him. But I didn't know what else to do. Then I froze when I saw him grabbing his dick, and he started jerking off in front of me. I didn't even know what that was!" Ana recounted, disgusted at the memory.

"Did he-?" Spencer trailed off. Ana shook her head, knowing what he wanted to ask.

"No. He couldn't. After he finished doing it himself, he sent me to my room. And I got so shocked I couldn't stay with him anymore. I begged to stay at my classmates' houses until my mom could pick me up. A month later, my mom found us an apartment."

Spencer let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

"Why you didn't tell your mom?" Ana shrugged.

"She already had a lot on her plate. And she trusted so much in her family. Also, I didn't know what really happened until later in school when people started to talk about abuse and stuff like that." Spencer nodded in understanding.

"What did you do then?" he asked softly.

"For a long time, I pretended it never happened. My mom died, and I didn't have time to think about that. But sure, you can guess I couldn't go like that forever. A time after my mom died, I had to go to therapy. And it helped. I did acknowledge what happened, and it wasn't okay. Still, I couldn't let that event dictate how I establish relationships with people. You know, despite my trust issues, I engaged in some healthy relationships in college and moved on. At least I thought I did until today," Ana sniffled—head shooking in denial.

"What happened today?" Spencer asked.

"I - I never knew what happened to him. I lost all contact with my family after my mom passed. But today I discovered he - he was found dead in his cell after being sentenced for raping and killing three women," Ana winced as the words left her mouth. "Do you know what it means? He hurt others. And I didn't say anything back then! The bastard harmed people and didn't pay for it. And I didn't do anything to prevent it!"

Her tightly-fisted hands collided with the couch's cushions. Frustration, guilt, and anger poured from her. Spencer was quick to react, holding her hands in his.

"Hey, no, no, no. Don't say that. You fought for your safety. You didn't know. You were a child. It's not your fault, okay?" Spencer reassured her.

"But I should have said something! To anyone! Maybe someone could have stopped him," Ana debated, feeling the guilt eating her. Spencer shook his head.

"You had your reasons, Ana. You wanted to protect your mom and yourself. And nothing guaranteed it didn't happen again. He was sixteen then; he was already on the wrong track. It wasn't your call to notice and warn people about him."

Ana took in Spencer's words. It was reasonable. She was a child. Still, it didn't feel enough right now. Her rational brain was fighting with the nagging feeling of remorse.

"Is it bad I wish I never knew what happened to him?" Ana cracked, feeling the tears down her cheeks.

"Not at all. Believe me. There is nothing wrong with that," Spencer assured, embracing her tightly. "And I know you're thinking you were luckier than the others he might and did hurt during his life, and you were. But remember, he did hurt you too. And that isn't any less."

Ana cried, held by Spencer in his arms. It was an intricate feeling. On the one hand, she felt terrible knowing justice didn't get served and how that man managed to hurt more people. But on the other, a relief washed over her after letting it out.

Minutes became at least half an hour. Spencer traced comforting patterns on Ana's back as the tears subsided. He thought she was falling asleep until she spoke again.

"I still made a mess in your kitchen," she mumbled with a raspy voice from the crying.

"It is the last of my concerns right now," he replied, a gentle hand still stroking her back.

"I should go to get rid of the glass shatters," she lifted her head from Spencer's chest, attempting to stand up, but Spencer didn't let her.

"No, no, no. None of that. You'll stay here. I'm going to clean that off, and I'll make some tea for both of us. It may not be like your 'aguitas,' but it will help," Spencer announced.

That made Ana chuckle. Even if she wanted to argue with Spencer about it, she felt already drained to do so.

Spencer was right. His tea was different from Ana's, but it helped. It helped in such a way sleepiness found her quickly, making her doze off on the couch with her head on Spencer's lap. He didn't have the heart to wake her up, so he snatched a blanket from the chair next to the couch and covered them both. As Spencer watched her sleep, his thoughts wandered toward that lingering feeling in him—the urge to embrace her. Not only physically embracing her yet embracing her heart, her whole. It was something new for him.

It wasn't like the need to protect someone vulnerable to danger as he usually did at his job. Ana had already shown early in life that she could cope with adversity. Even so, seeing his heart exposed this way elicited a feeling of admiration and unconditionally. He could no longer see her as a stranger, let alone get the idea she would soon be no longer in his life. Was he naive in thinking they could keep this friendship once everything was over? Was he a fool in believing the feeling was mutual? Was it reasonable to think this was just friendship? Without answering all those questions, an exhausted Spencer fell asleep with Ana in his arms. In his mind, embracing her in more than a way.

Morning found Ana curled on the couch, covered with a blanket and something - someone - else. As she stirred, she felt a pair of arms around her waist. That was enough for her to open her eyes fully. 

Those arms were Spencer's. Shit.

Not daring to move, Ana mentally revisited the night before. She fell asleep on Spencer's couch with Spencer himself wrapping his arms around her. Why didn't he wake her up? Was he still sleeping? The soft snoring escaping his lips told her yes.

Ana thought it was a crime to feel so comfortable right now. Should she move? Ana contemplated her options until, as on cue, Spencer stretched, losing his grip on her waist. She moved slowly, sliding off the sofa until she touched the floor. Seeing Spencer still not open his eyes, she got up quickly.

Still groggy from sleep, Spencer opened his eyes, and the first thing he saw was Ana standing before him.

"Hey," he mumbled. Ana mirrored him.

"Hey. Good morning."

"Good morning," he smiled. Ana cleared her throat.

"I'm sorry I fell asleep last night. Why didn't you wake me up?" she asked, not mentioning how they were cuddling in their sleep. Spencer shifted to a sit position.

"You looked tired, and I didn't want you to disturb your sleep," he simply explained, rubbing his palms on his eyes to sweep the remaining slumber.

"I'm sorry. You must have been uncomfortable all night," Ana deduced, taking in the couch and the tall man on it.

Spencer thought about it, and the truth was far from that statement.

"Not really. Quite the opposite," Spencer admitted at loud. Ana gave him an odd look, and he realized what he said. "How are you feeling?" Spencer quickly changed the subject.

"Better, I guess," she shrugged. "I wanted to thank you for listening to me and, well, not kicking my ass out of here after the mess I made in your kitchen," she chuckled. Spencer did the same.

"I would never do that. And I'm glad you're feeling better," Spencer said, giving her a wide smile. Ana could have melted in the spot. How could he be so cute like that? She couldn't help but take in his adorable messy hair and how he rubbed his eyes like a sleepy little kid.

Get a grip, Ana. Get a grip.

"You know, I'm going to make breakfast. If you want to take a shower first," Ana offered, ready to head to the kitchen. Spencer checked his watch, and an idea popped.

"Ana! Wait!" he stopped her. She looked confused, asking if something was wrong. Spencer shook his head. "No, no. It's just, can we do something today? I mean, what if we go out and do breakfast in a new place I found?" Ana raised an eyebrow.

"Are you betraying my coffee shop?" Spencer laughed.

"Never! But I think you'll like the place. It's a beautiful day outside, and we can take a walk afterward. What do you say?"

Ana didn't know why she felt her cheeks turn red. It's not like he's asking her out on a date or anything like that. It's just a friendly outing. He only wanted to be nice to her, she thought.

"Okay. We can do that. One condition, though," Ana prefaced in a serious tone.

"Name it," Spencer quickly replied.

"Only if we're going to eat ice cream afterward," Ana said, and Spencer smirked.

"Deal."

——————

Spencer Reid's Taglist: @dreatine​ @nomajdetective @jayyeahthatsme @rosalinasam2 @averyhotchner @tvandfanfic @lovelyxtom @princessmiaelicia @pastelbabygirl19 @reidsbookclub @alexxavicry @gspenc @spencerreidisbae123 @calmspencer @pauline5525mgg @disaster-in-waiting @anamiad00msday @milivanili99 @laylasbunbunny @leahblackk @miaxx03 @missabsey @taintedstranger

[alexander-arcturus-black-lupin-r]

Would u write smut for mgg himself? Also do u take requests???

Well ofcourse in my delulu mind MGG and Spencer Reid are the same person also Requests are always open (greenlight) and i will do my best to attend to them in the same month and if i am attending to it i will post a short notice if i am writing your request

~Alex <3

[mggslover]

Angel

In which Spencer sees his girlfriend fresh out of the shower for the first time, you looked angelic, and he was about to ruin you.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Girlfriend!reader Genre: smut (18+) Content warnings: spencer being horny, reader wears glasses, teasing, fingering, some spanking, p in v sex, facial, soft!dom spencer Word count: 3,8k A/n: this was supposed to be a short, smut no plot fic, but I got a little carried away...

The familiar goodbyes and sorrys were exchanged as you hung up the phone.

What was meant to be a romantic date out of town with your boyfriend had quickly turned into another one of those last-minute cancellations. It wasn’t surprising—Spencer’s work as a profiler came with its own set of unpredictable demands, and you were used to him being pulled away at a moment’s notice. Still, you couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed. You’d been looking forward to spending some time together.

You’d been dating Spencer for about three months, and things had progressed naturally from casual coffee dates to longer dinners and, eventually, a few trips to his place afterwards. As much as you enjoyed those nights, you wished they would last longer. You and Spencer made a habit out of quickies, knowing that at any moment his phone would inevitably buzz with a message or call from his colleague, Garcia. You couldn’t blame him for leaving, serial killers unfortunately didn’t work a nine to five. Spencer hated leaving you as well, making sure he offered you enough apologetic kisses and promises that he’d be back as soon as he could.

He always insisted that you could stay over at his place until he’d be back, but you never felt comfortable enough to do so. It wasn’t that you didn’t enjoy being at his place—you could already picture yourself curled up on the couch with one of his books, or take advantage of his bed, which was a lot bigger and more comfortable than yours. But it wasn’t quite home yet, at least not without him there.

With a resigned sigh, you decided to make the best out of the situation. It had been a long week, and you could use a night of self-care. As you set your phone down on the bathroom counter, you hit play on a playlist you’d made for such occasions—soft, calming melodies that would help you unwind. You pulled your hair back with a headband, took out your contacts, and started removing the makeup that took you half an hour to do earlier.

The bathroom mirror fogged slightly as the warmth of the shower filled the room. You hummed along with the song in the background, while you moved the cotton pads over your skin in a familiar motion.

As you finished, you carefully stepped out of your dress and turned toward the shower. The steam hit your skin as you slid into the stall, closing your eyes for a moment as the water hit your shoulders.

Without realizing, you spent a good hour in the shower. Once comfortably dressed, you let yourself sink into the plush cushions of your couch. A fuzzy blanket was draped across your just shaved legs, and the TV remote was within arm’s reach. You let out a content sigh, almost feeling as satisfied as you would be when being with Spencer.

—

Spencer’s signature melody of knocks broke your focus on the documentary you were watching. You swiftly moved up from the couch and checked the peephole on your door, just to be sure. A smile spread across your face as you saw Spencer rocking back and forth on his feet, plucking at the bouquet in his hands, straightening out each flower to perfection.

You opened the door with a big smile. “Hi, I wasn’t expecting you. I thought we cancelled tonight.”

He hesitates, a slight blush creeping onto his cheeks. “You’re right. I finished the case early, and I’ve been thinking about you all day. I just… wanted to see you.” His words came out more nervously than he intended. “I saw the lights were on, so I assumed you were awake.”

“I wasn’t asleep. Don’t worry,” you answered warmly. You glanced down at the bouquet in his hands. “Are these for me?”

“They are,” he replies, his voice softened as he handed them to you. “You said you liked lilies.”

“I do, thank you. They’re beautiful.” You accept the bouquet, moving to your tiptoes to give him a kiss. Having a boyfriend with an eidetic memory really is perfect.

“I’ll put them in water, come in.”

You moved to the open kitchen, so in awe of his sweet gesture that you were completely unaware of the way Spencer’s breath caught the moment you opened the door, how his pupils darkened when he inhaled your sweet scent and noticed the state you were in. Hair still damp from the shower you must’ve taken, wearing only a shirt, and your face bare besides the glasses you were wearing. Fuck… he didn’t even know you wore glasses.

He couldn’t deny how incredibly cute you looked. Spencer has only seen you during or after dates, and he loved how he could tell that you took the time to get yourself ready. Always wearing an outfit that fits you perfectly and having your makeup done in a way that enhances the features of your face. But it felt so intimate seeing how effortlessly beautiful you looked moving around in the comfort of your own home. You were beautiful in a way that seemed almost unfair, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that this was the most captivating version of you he'd ever seen.

Spencer wasn’t able to take his eyes off of you as you walked to the kitchen, your breasts swaying with every step you took. The outline of your nipples were visible, because of the cold that escaped when you opened the door for him. Your bare legs reflected the warm kitchen light. He felt like he was about to lose his mind as you reached up to grab a vase from the top cabinet, the curve of your ass peeking out from underneath the shirt that you're wearing.

He felt guilty for the warmth that was spreading through him. He shook his head slightly, trying to reset his thoughts, but the temptation was there. Your easy grace, the way your bare feet padded across the floor, the gentle hum of the air between you—it all combined into something too alluring for him to ignore.

You could feel the heat radiating off of him as he moved behind you, placing a careful hand on your hip as he reached out to grab the vase. You turned around with a smile as he placed the vase on the kitchen counter.

“Thanks,” you beamed, and he mumbled a ‘You’re welcome’, though his response came out as more of a soft hum.

Before he could think better of it, he leaned down and kissed you. The kiss was slow, deliberate—his lips meeting yours with a tenderness that made his pulse race. His fingers tingle with the desire to pull you closer, but just before his hands slid around you, you pulled away, making him swallow back a groan.

“Ooh! I was watching this documentary that I think you’ll be really into,” you said, quickly putting the flowers in the vase and tugging him by the hand toward the couch. He followed like a stray pup, too caught up in the way you moved to protest.

“Oh, yeah? What’s it about?” He asked, hoping the conversation would steer him away from the other thoughts tugging at him. You settled on the couch beside him, and he instinctively pulled your legs onto his lap, cupping your feet in his hands to warm them.

“It’s about space. The universe, really. It’s fascinating, but honestly terrifying if you think about it for too long.”

Spencer nodded, though his mind was far away. He was more focused on the way that his fingers traced the soft lines of your calves. He gently started kneading the muscles, placing just the right amount of pressure.

“Would you go to space, if NASA invited you?” You asked, eyes still glued to the TV.

“Only if you’d come with me.”

His response made you turn around to look at him. The sincere and loving expression he gave you warmed your face. He squeezed your legs gently, and, just like that, you noticed the hint of desire hidden in his eyes.

“Come here,” he said in a whisper, patting his thigh. In a second you managed to crawl yourself onto his lap, and he held you steady by your hips.

You reached up to remove your glasses, but before your fingers could touch the frames, his hand found yours, halting the movement.

You noticed the slight squint in his eyes. “I can’t properly kiss you with my glasses on,” you explain.

"Then let me handle the kissing," he murmured, voice dropped low.

Before you could register his words, his lips had found your neck. His hands moved to cradle your face, his thumbs brushing along the line of your jaw, holding you close as his tongue licked a firm stripe up your sensitive skin.

“Oh, god,” you shuddered in a breath.

“Shaking already?” he teased, voice laced with amusement as he grinned against your skin.

“No,” you lied.

“Are you sure about that? Then why are you doing it again?” He comments before squeezing your breast, your nipple caught in between his long fingers.

You jumped at his touch, a moan escaping your lips. You shook your head as you saw his satisfied expression. “You’re such a dirty tease.”

“I haven’t heard any complaints so far,” he smirks, making you roll your eyes.

His breath was warm against your skin as his lips found their way back to the soft curve of your neck. Slowly, with a tenderness that sent a shiver through your body, he placed several more kisses to your skin. Once pleased, he bends his head down to capture your clothed nipple in his mouth, his hand still kneading your other breast.

“Fuck, Spence,” you gasped, your hands gripping his shoulders to steady yourself. He took his time, his mouth sucking slowly on your nub, savoring the feel of you beneath him. Tonight, he was in no rush—he wanted to taste every inch of you, show you just how much he loves every detail of your body.

You were writhing in his lap as he flicked his tongue against your nipple. Heat forming between your thighs with every stroke of his tongue. He removed his lips from your breast with a pop, and sat back against the couch. His gaze was locked on the now wet, see-through patch on your shirt. He licked his lips, watching you like you were a piece of art he just created himself.

“Beautiful,” he stated.

The compliment sent a rush of warmth straight to your core, your body responding with a soft shiver. Without thinking, you began to grind yourself against his lap, a surge of excitement rushing through you as you felt the firm bulge beneath his pants. Spencer exhaled a deep, satisfied sigh, his warm hands slipping beneath your shirt as he cupped your breasts, squeezing them gently.

“I didn’t know you wore glasses,” he said, his gaze lingering on you.

You raised an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “Oh, so that’s what this is all about, huh?”

His expression softened, “Actually, it’s about all of you.” The sincerity in his voice caught you off guard, turning you almost shy.

“Can I take this off?” he murmured, his fingers teasing the hem of your shirt. You nodded wordlessly and raised your arms. Spencer pulled the fabric over your head, his eyes tracing the curve of your bare chest. He cursed under his breath, his hands immediately finding you—fingers digging into your skin as he leaned in, nuzzling his face between your tits with a satisfied moan.

A string of giggles and moans spilled from your lips as his curls tickled your skin. His pink lips grazed you gently, pausing to leave sloppy, lingering marks—each one a reminder that you’d carry with you for the following days.

You moved against him, rolling your hips, finding release in the way that your barely covered heat rubbed against the rough material of his pants. Spencer noticed the change in your rhythm, the need in your movements. He guided you with steady hands, his fingers moving to your hips and then sliding lower, finding the curve of your ass, tightening his grip to help you find the pace you craved.

“Can you handle more?” His voice was laced with desire. Without hesitation, you nodded, your body already screaming for more. His long fingers traced your inner thighs, goosebumps forming on your skin, his touch light but electrifying. When his thumb pressed against your covered clit, a jolt of heat shot through you, making you squirm helplessly. You moaned, your body arching toward him.

“You’re always so wet for me, angel.” The word slipped from Spencer's lips. It was the first time he’d called you anything other than your name or a shortened version of it, and somehow, angel felt more fitting than any word he'd ever used. You looked like heaven to him—your soft skin glowing in the light, your eyes sparkling behind the frames of your glasses, and the way you responded to his touch, every small brush of his fingers making your expressions change so delicately.

He slowly tugged the damp fabric of your underwear to the side, savoring the reveal of your glistening pussy. You lifted your hips, giving Spencer the access to slide a finger through your folds, spreading your wetness.

“Feels good,” you breathed out, your voice shaky as his fingers ran back and forth between your lips, each pass teasingly close to your entrance, but never quite slipping inside. The sensation made your hips buck against him. You weren’t used to being teased for this long—Spencer had a way of getting you dripping without even fully touching you. Usually that led straight to sex, which makes his slow touches feel almost torturous.

“Please, Spence,” you moaned.

“Please, what?” he mused, his eyes dark with desire as he watched how your arousal coated his fingers, his gaze never leaving your glistenings folds.

“I need more,” you begged, your voice a whimper.

“You can have more, angel. My fingers are right here,” he hummed.

A soft moan escaped your lips as you shifted, positioning yourself so his fingers were just below your entrance. Spencer’s breath hitched, and his mouth fell open as you sank down onto his fingers, inch by inch, taking him in. Your hand gripped his shoulder tightly for support as you moved, the sensation of fullness making your body tremble.

Spencer was the first to make a sound, his head falling back slightly as you adjusted to him. His moans only spurred you on. You pressed your forehead against his, your breaths shaky as he pumped his fingers in a steady, insistent rhythm.

His other hand moved to your ass, fingers spreading across your cheek as he squeezed, pulling you closer to him. You were grateful he was doing most of the work—your legs were already shaking, straining to keep up with the building pleasure.

Spencer’s fingers curled inside you, pressing deeper, and the angle was perfect—hitting spots you never managed to reach on your own. Spencer groaned at the sight. Your body was tightening around him, your slickness coating his fingers, and he couldn’t help but imagine it being his cock filling you up.

The sounds he made drove you crazy. Each deep groan, every stuttered breath, showed you how much he enjoyed making you feel good. His enjoyment only intensified your own pleasure.

You were so close, your nipples hard against his chest, your breath mixing with his as your hair tumbled over his face, the scent of it intoxicating to him.

Your breathing quickened, sharp and shallow, as the pressure built within you, pooling low in your belly. Your vision blurred, the edges of reality dissolving as you neared the brink of your climax.

“Baby…” you breathed, your voice a desperate whisper, barely more than a plea. You locked your eyes with Spencer, hoping—praying—he could see the need in yours, feel the frantic urgency building inside you.

And then, with a nod and a final twist of his fingers, you broke.

A flood of pleasure crashed through you. You gasped, your whole body seizing as your orgasm hit, sending shockwaves of heat through every inch of you. You cried out, unable to hold back the sounds of your release, your hips bucking against his touch, your hands gripping his wrist to anchor you to the world as it spun in a blur.

He withdrew his fingers from your heat, and the sudden absence left you breathless, a soft sound escaping your lips at the loss. When you blinked your eyes open, Spencer’s warm gaze met yours, a gentle smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. You smiled back at him, a little dazed, as he brushed your cheek with his untouched hand.

He carefully took your glasses off, placing them on the armrest of the couch. His thumb tenderly wiped away the tears that had escaped your eyes. He then cupped your chin, pulling you toward him, and kissed you deeply, his lips soft and lingering.

“Thank you,” he murmured, as he wrapped his arms around you, holding you close.

“I should be the one thanking you,” you softly laughed.

He shook his head, smiling. “No need for that,” he replied, his voice reassuring.

“But I want to,” you insisted. “Though… I think you’ll find I’m better at showing than telling.” You playfully whispered, as your nails grazed the outline of his dick.

You turned yourself around on his lap, your knees still planted on either side of him, but now with your back facing him. Leaning forward, you braced yourself on the coffee table, your elbows digging into the surface. You arched your back, making Spencer hiss sharply at the sight of your ass displayed before him, your arousal trickling down your thighs. The inviting shake of your hips made him lose his patience, and his fingers fumbled hastily with his belt.

“Fuck,” he groaned, hurriedly pushing his pants and boxers down his thighs. His cock sprang free, hard and eager, the flushed head brushing against the faint line of hair trailing up his abdomen.

He gripped himself firmly, pumping his length a few times before lining himself up with your slick entrance. The weight of his hand settled on your hip as he pressed the tip of his cock against your warmth, teasing you for the briefest moment before you sank down on him.

A sharp cry escaped your lips as he filled you, the new angle making him hit depths you’d never felt before. The stretch was deliciously overwhelming, stealing your breath as your fingers clawed at the table. You shakily tried to lift your hips, but your legs quivered under the strain.

Spencer noticed immediately, his hands finding their place—one on your waist, steadying you, and the other trailing down to your calf. He began guiding you, his strength effortlessly lifting and lowering you along his cock. The room filled with the symphony of your combined moans and the rhythmic slap of meeting skin.

“God, look at you,” he rasped, mesmerized by the way your body took him in. His gaze focused on the bounce of your ass, hypnotized by the way it moved with each thrust. On instinct, he brought his hand down in a firm smack against your cheek.

The sudden impact made you jolt, as you let out a sweet, startled cry. The sound sent a surge of need through him, and he swore he felt himself harden further.

“You liked that, huh?” he mused in curiosity. Without waiting for an answer, he did it again, revelling in your shivering response.

Pulling you against him, Spencer adjusted your position until you were seated in his lap, your back pressed flush to his chest. One arm wrapped around your waist to hold you close, while his other hand rose to cup your breast. His hips snapped into you roughly, each thrust pulling an uncontrollable whimper from your throat.

“You’re doing so good for me, angel,” he praised, his voice hoarse as his fingers pinched and rolled your nipple. The combination made your head loll back against his shoulder, surrendering to his touch. He seized the opportunity to claim your lips in a needy, devouring kiss. Tongues tangled messily, swallowing your shared moans.

As your pleasure mounted, your walls began to flutter around him, drawing a strained groan from his throat.

“Are you close again, pretty girl?” he asked, his voice a rough whisper against your lips.

“Yes,” you gasped, barely able to form the word. “Spencer… fuck, I’m so close.”

“Then cum around me,” he encouraged. “I know you want it.”

Your breath hitched. “Will you cum inside of me?”

For a heartbeat, he stilled. “I…” His gaze flickered with hesitation, cheeks flushed. “I want to cum on your face.”

Your pupils blew wide, desire sparking anew at his confession. A smirk tugged at the corner of your lips.

That was all the encouragement he needed. His fingers dipped between your thighs, circling your clit in rapid, precise motions. The pressure tipped you over the edge, and with a cry of his name, you let go.

Barely able to recover, you slid from his lap onto your knees, settling in front of him. Spencer’s breath hitched at the sight of you—flushed and disheveled, your sweat-slick skin glowing in the low light. Your lips, swollen from his kisses, parted expectantly.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he breathed, unable to tear his eyes away. You looked angelic… and he was about to ruin you.

It didn’t take long. His cock twitched, thick ropes of cum spilling over your face and dripping down to your chest. His jaw went slack, his chest heaving as he watched you collect some of his release with your thumb and slip it into your mouth. The sight of you sucking on your finger almost unraveled him all over again.

Unable to bring himself to leave your side, he grabbed his sleeve, using it to gently clean you up. Once satisfied, you leaned forward, resting your head on his thigh, basking in the comfortable silence that followed.

His phone buzzed suddenly on the couch, shattering the moment. Spencer groaned, grabbing the device and quickly silencing it with a flick of his finger.

You laughed softly, your voice tinged with amazement. “What was that about?”

Spencer shrugged, tossing the phone aside without a second glance. “I can be late for one day.”

[asteiioss]

Hello all!! This post is dedicated to my newly started fanfic that I have been preparing for the past several months. It can be found on Wattpad on my profile, but you can just click here .

Down below, I will add one random chapter of the fic, just so you can read a little bit of it. But, of course, I would appreciate it if you could go and support my full work :).

Pairing: Spencer x fem!oc

Warnings: mentions of crime, crime scenes, fluff, a little bit of swearing here and there. no use of y/n, the oc has her own name!

Content: The bau is called in for another case. Spencer and OC have feelings for each other but don't want to accept it, even if it's horrifically obvious. After the unsettling case, Spencer tries to calm OC and help her relax her mind.

Word Count: 3.6k

PLEASE KNOW THAT I NAMED THE OC SINCE HER NAME IS USED IN THE FANFIC. Harper White :)

"Holy shit, what did you do?" my mouth fell open at the sight of him. Not him. His hair. Or... well... the lack of it.

"What do you mean?" Spencer looked confused as he sat at his desk.

"Where are the curls? Where did they go?" Garcia came rushing in after my loud gasp.

"Did you join a boy band?" Hotch walked by, his eyes stuck to the obviousness in the room.

"No, what the hell is wrong with you, I got a haircut!" Now he just asked bluntly.

"You look like a twelve-year-old." I leaned onto my desk that was opposite of him, making direct eye contact with him.

"Is it that bad?" he brushed his hair with his fingers. His hands.

"No, Spence!" I felt bad now. "Jokes aside, I actually think you look... cute." I smiled slightly, trying to compliment him. "I think we were all just very used to your curls. I even sometimes imagined you with tied up hair, maybe a bun?" I looked over at Emily.

"Holy shit, do you know how many girls you could pull with that look?" she said excitedly.

"Not that pretty boy would want anyone aside our princess here." Derek came into the office holding his coffee and giving me the look I knew all too well.

"Fuck you." I spat at him with a grin, watching him as he passed by and sitting down at his desk.

"You know you love me." he teased as he sat down behind me.

"Hey, guys, we got a new one." JJ called and like on queue, we all got up and made our way to the conference room.

"Harp, did you really mean it?" Spencer stopped me.

He stopped me by taking my hand. I turned around to face him, and he had this genuine look on his face.

"Spence, we were just joking. You look really good. I like this new boyish look." I said and drove my hand through his now short hair, still the front pieces were. "Change can be good sometimes."

Now, I don't know what came over me, but, without hesitation, I lowered my hand down to the tip of his tie and pulled him by it to get him down to my height and just placed a small peck on his cheek. I think he was surprised as I was because we just looked at each other. I smiled and quickly turned on my heel and continued walking to the conference room, even though I could hardly feel my legs.

We entered, he came in after me and we sat down around the table, waiting for the briefing. I opened the case file that was presented in front of me and looked at the young woman. She couldn't have been much younger than me. In my few years that I've worked here, I often find female victims to be my age. The "mid to late 20s" is a phrase I get shivery from. Brunettes, pretty, young, successful...

"I saw that." Emily's quiet voice snapped me back inti the room.

"Sorry, what?" I looked up from the papers.

"That little stunt just now. I saw that." she smirked, and it hit me what she was talking about.

"Oh, God. Emily!" I tried to brush it off. "Don't make a big deal out of this."

"What's a big deal?" Rossi came in and passed the two of us, taking his seat next to Emily.

"I just witnessed the first ever White x Reid cheek kiss." she made that lovey dovey sound she always does. I rolled my eyes, but Rossi got into character as he looked at Emily, almost excited.

"You're kidding?" he waited before Emily shook her head 'no'. "About time. I was getting sick of those random weird hugs they exchanged."

"I get you, I had the urge to push them together the other day." Derek jumped in.

"I don't want to hear it from you, shit-face." I pointed my finger at him.

They all laughed, but Spencer just smiled to himself. His cheeks took up the bright pink color. For years now, everyone is telling us that it's obvious we like each other, but we just say that it's not true. But it's deadly obvious. We just don't want to admit it. Nor to each other but maybe not to our selves either. The friendship we have is great. Who would want to ruin something like that? Why risk losing someone like Spencer over a stupid crush.

It's just a crush.

"Okay, so we got a woman in her min 20s, in Boise, Idaho. Reported missing. It looks like it's a pattern between these two other missing victims with the same M.O." JJ clicked her remote and showed us the pictures of two other women. "All three kidnaps are almost exactly two months apart. As much as we gathered, the women were reported missing only three days after they were abducted."

"So wait, this guy keeps them for almost three days? What does he do with them?" I asked.

"That's what we are hoping to find out after going to the scenes." Hotch said.

"It looks like they had their lives pretty straight up. All of them in relationships, secure jobs..." Derek flipped through the files as he talked.

"Normal suburban streets, gives the UnSub privacy." Rossi added.

"The victims are quite different, their appearances are. Different hair color, different body shape..." Spencer continued.

"No signs of struggle or forced entry in either of these cases." I pointed out.

"Women like this don't just vanish." Rossi spoke up again.

"Exactly, which is why Garcia did her digging magic and found out about their lives." JJ said and pointed to our tech girl.

"There isn't much to say but that it was obvious how the UnSub was doing it. Their online lives are extremely open and public. Online-life-sharing shit, sorry for the expression, but they were everywhere. Facebook, Twitter, you name it." she said as she pulled up a post from the last victim with the date three days prior to the abduction. "This was the last post from our numero uno, and it matches very much with the other posts on our other victims' wall. Going on a vacation, going on a business trip, but looking at the time stamps, they were posted a day before they went missing."

"The UnSub posted them?" Hotch realized.

"This is like a guide of 'how to know where I'm at if you want to find me' for serial killers. Social networking sites are a goddamn goldmine for this kind of information." I said, almost looking sadly at their posts. It was like a call-up for these kind of people.

"I agree. Especially these women, they posted everything, from what they were having for dinner to where they were going on dates." Spencer confirmed my thought.

"If the UnSub hacked into their accounts to post these, he probably knows around computers. He could be really smart." Emily said.

"He's also patient. Two months between each of these, then again he gets three days to do what he wants with them." Rossi looked back at the files.

"Which means that these women could already be dead. We need to find out what he does in those three days and get this son of a bitch before he can continue his work." Hotch stopped to look at us. "Wheels up in thirty."

***

I tried to reach up to the small space for my bag above my seat in the jet but struggled to get the bag inside. It didn't help that I was short, but the bag was very overpacked, and it almost fell on my head. I closed my eyes, expecting a thud on my head, but instead, I felt the relief of its weight on my hands. I looked up to see two hands holding the bag and Spencer standing next to me.

"You need help?" he asked, looking down at me.

"No?" I tried to save the little pride I had left.

"You sure about that?" he smirked, still looking down at me.

Still holding my hands up, head down, him holding my bag, I couldn't say 'yes'. "No?" the words came out almost like a squeal.

He giggled, and finally pushed the bag up into the small space and closed it. "What did you put in there? I only have a small bag for these kind of things."

"That's because you are a man, Spence. I, on the other hand, am a young woman who needs many things for a undefined period of time away from home." I dusted off my jacked, not that it was dusty, but I needed to look down because I could feel my cheeks burning up.

I didn't realize till now how close he was.

He smelt like coffee.

"Uh, listen about the thing this morning I didn't-" I started hoping this conversation could end quickly. But I guess he had other plans.

"Why did you do that?" he asked and looked down at me again.

I didn't have a choice but look back up at him. His hazel eyes were almost wide open, but he had a scent of mystery in them. Why did he want to know? "What do you mean?"

His gaze was going up and down from my eyes, then from one to the other. What was he looking at?

"Why did you do it?" he almost repeated his question.

I couldn't stop looking at him. I wanted to. I could feel shivers going down my spine.

Was he getting closer?

"I-uh... I don't know..." I almost whispered.

He was getting closer.

"I think you do." he whispered back, his hands in his pockets, but he was slowly, almost insensibly inching his head downwards to me.

I tried to back up, because I couldn't handle him being so close. But when I tried to back up, my knees met with the chairs and I fell down on them, him following me. A small yelp escaped my lips before I crashed with the cushions beneath me. After a second , I realized his hands were on the sides of my head and he was inches away from me. I stared blankly into his face, but his eyes were traveling again up and down my face. I guess my eyes copied his pattern and I realized what he was looking.

He was looking at my lips.

"I'm sorry I-" he started, finally. The silence was choking me.

"No, I-" I stuttered. "It's okay..."

"Here, let me help you." he said and pushed himself up. Holding the table with one hand, he reached with the other to pull me up. I guess he underestimated how light I was when he pulled me, making me fly up and bumping into his chest.

"Shit, I'm sorry, I-" I quickly apologized.

"No, this is on me and-" he stopped.

I looked up at him only to see him staring at something on my face. "What?"

"You, uh-" he stuttered. "Your lipstick got smudged a little."

Crap. "Oh, here?" I brushed on the tip of my lips.

"No, it's still there, just here." he tried pointing at his face, mirroring where the smudge was.

I wiped again. "Better?"

He made a frowning face. "No, it's- " he sighed, "You know what, let me just-"

Cue 'Careless whisper'.

He raised up his hand only to cup my chin with his long fingers. They were warm. His touch was warm. He swiped on the bottom line of my lips. My lower lip moved with his swipe and all I could do was feel the sensation of his touch. He looked back up at me, but even after he got rid of the smudge on my lips, he didn't move his hand. I don't think I wanted him to..

"Hey, sorry we're late, I forgot where I put my deodorant." Emily's voice made us both abruptly step back. The, now, lack of his touch left a weird cold on my face.

"I already told you, it's no big deal." Derek added as he came in with his bag behind her.

"Maybe for you, but we ladies need that. It's a necessity." JJ came in next.

"I got those natural scents. No need for those chemical ones." Derek laughed and placed his bag next to mine in the compartment above our seats.

"Ew..." I muttered after letting him take the window seat. "I'm not sure I want to sit next to you anymore."

"I'll spray perfume on him, so he smells like flowers." JJ joked, and the three of us laughed while Derek frowned.

"Hey, how did you get you bag up there?" he turned to me and asked, pointing above his head.

"I helped her, she was struggling with it since it was pretty heavy." Spencer said as he sat next to Emily opposite from us.

"That's it, pretty boy. You gotta be a gentleman." he mouthed those last words while swinging in his seat.

"You can really be a lot sometimes." Emily gave him a deathly glare, to which he only laughed more.

I, too, laughed. Rossi and Hotch came in and gave us the files to look over again while we fly. The plane soon took off. Looking down at the now familiar pictures, I wondered about their families and what waited for us when we arrive. I looked at Spencer through my eyebrows, only to catch him looking back at me. He quickly looked back down at his file, a small smile curving on his lips. I smiled to myself.

"How can someone be interested in this?" Rossi asked, a look of confusion on his face.

"What do you mean?" Emily asked.

"Their social network walls. Who has the need to share these things with the world, just look at this. 'Having sushi for dinner. Yum.' 'My boss is making me stay in the office late again. Grr.'

We all laughed as he read those status updates. It was funny how people nowadays had the need to put their life out there.

"I think that's just it. The hope that someone out there cares about the things we do, that we do matter." Derek said after he stopped laughing.

"So our UnSub is finding these women on their online profiles. Can't we use that to find him?" Emily asked.

"The lead detective already tried going through their followers lists, they all check out." JJ answered her.

"Social networks can be extremely insecure. Recently, Facebook tried to update their privacy settings and in doing so made every profile viewable." Spencer said and pressed his lips together.

"Do you have a Facebook profile?" JJ asked me.

"God, no. I run away from social media." I replied. "But even if I did, my first status update would be 'Enjoying Rossi's special spaghetti dish. Yum.' " We all laughed again.

"This does tell us how he finds them, but not how he gets into their houses." Hotch said, bringing us back to the brutal reality of this situation.

"Maybe a key copy?" Rossi asked.

"Maybe, but look, the last victim had a home security installed. The code was entered at 1:56am, not only that, but he somehow went past her dog too." Spencer read from the files. "A German Shepard went missing the night that she did."

"This guy had to be in and out of the house before..." Derek said. "He builds up a rose so he gets in, gets familiar with the house and knows he can safely come back and kidnap them."

"What about unknown people you feel safe letting inside your home?" Rossi continued his thought. "Home repair guys, someone who volunteered to walk your dog?"

"The detective looked into that too, no one came close to being a killer." JJ added to our brainstorm.

"We need to go over everything ourselves. Morgan, Prentiss, start with the last abduction sight. The rest of you go over the women's lives, see if you can find anything. Start with family and friends on their social networking sites. If this is how the UnSub is finding them, maybe they are connected without even realizing it." Hotch gave the orders, we were only left to nod.

***

It was a twisted case. We lost another woman in the process. The bastard kept them in a freezer. A fucking freezer. Just because they had this specific face symmetry. Even after years working in this department, I still find myself questioning how can people be so wicked and evil. The worst part is the way we find them. We might not be like them but we sure as hell know to think like them. Does that make us that much different?

I stared at the endless sky outside my window. It was almost night-time, so watching the sun go down was majestic. The colorful clouds flew around, the sun slowly hid behind them. On the other hand, Derek was snoring on the small sofa in the back of the jet. Rossi and Hotch were reading something on the other part, JJ and Emily were sleeping in their chairs next to me. Spencer was sitting across from me reading one of his books, quickly shifting through the pages.

My mind was still foggy. I tried to clear my mind and think about anything else other than the twisted ways the human mind could work sometimes. I stood up, trying to reach for my bag up in the compartment above my seats. I tried to stretch up to it, but it was too high up.

I fucking hate being short.

"Do you need help?" Spencer asked quietly.

"If you don't mind. I just wanted to take out my headphones, I forgot to take them out earlier." I explained.

"No, it's no problem. Here-" he said and got up from his seat. He opened the small space and pulled out my bag. I took it from him and took my mp3 player and headphones before giving the bag back to him to put it back up. He closed the small space and sat back down in his seat. "You okay?" he asked while picking up his book.

"Yeah, why?" I looked at him, a bit weirded out by his question while I connected the headphones to the player and tried to find one of the songs that I use to calm down."

"It's just, most of the time that you listen to music on out flight back home is after a pretty traumatic case. Not just that but emotionally exhausting. Also, when the victims are similar to you, their age, their lives, they are almost identical to the life you have, and the worst part is that those groups of women are the most targeted. When you don't want to think, you play music. You try to zone out with it." he explained. "So, I guess that's why I'm asking if you're okay. I think you're not."

I looked at him, almost frozen. He said everything. What else was there to say? Sometimes, I hated that he could read me with such ease. I put the player and headphones beside me and lean on the table that separated us. "You're right. I'm not okay." I sigh and brush my face with my hands. They were cold. I support my head with my hands, fingers intertwined with each other. "What he said to Emily. It's still bugging me. You will never understand what I see when I look at them. But my followers do." I recited his words. "It was their faces, but why? What was so special about them?"

Spencer thought about my words. "Well, it could be multiple things. A reflection of himself, someone in his life, someone he wished to have or to be."

"But why? What if my face was similar to theirs? Would I be next?"

"Your face isn't like theirs."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I raised an eyebrow.

"No-no, I didn't mean it like that. I meant that your symmetry of your face isn't like the victims face. I didn't mean to say your face wasn't nice, I think your face is beautiful. Not beautiful, pretty, just- uh, good-looking is what I'm trying to say." he stuttered.

I smiled at his clumsy words. He's cheeks again started turning into a shade of pink. "I think your face is good-looking, too."

I took the player back into my hands to find a song that now I was determined to listen. It was in my head and I needed to listen to it. "What are you gonna listen to?" he asked.

"I have this song in my head, I think I'll start with it and then just go with shuffle. The playlist is good so I don't mind what comes after." I said, not looking up from the small screen.

"Really? What's the song?"

" '74-'75' "

"I don't think I heard it."

"Do you want to listen to it with me?" I asked, finally able to find the song and looking back up at him.

"You sure? I don't want to mess with your time listening to music that calms you."

"Of course, I'm sure. Come here." I patted the seat next to me.

He smiled and got up to sit next to me. I gave him one of the headphones. "Right." and I put in the left one. I started the song and looked up at him. The opening course was a guitar solo, which I always loved in songs. He smiled back at me, bobbing his head slightly in the rhythm. After that approvement, I relaxed my head on the cushion on the back of my seat, trying to relax. Maybe even sleep.

[gghostwriter]

Entangled Strings of Fate Masterlist

Spencer Reid x FOC

Summary: Caltech, Pasadena - Cleo considers herself a woman of logic. With an IQ of 158 and an eidetic memory, how could she not. But meeting Spencer, the boy genius to hers, had her believing in intangible theories like the invisible string and the fates. Now, if only he would notice the depth of her feelings. Set in Caltech, pre-season 1 and will progress from there.

Tropes -- Friends to Lovers, Idiots in Love, Eventual Romance

Initial chapters below. Unsure of how many chapters this fanfic of my would be so masterlist will be updated with every chapter post!

Act One - Initial Impact Chapter 0. Fate (in all its theory) Chapter 1. Lighting struck (and was caught in a bottle) Chapter 2. Seventh heaven (how temporary it is) Chapter 3. My torch stays burnings Chapter 4. Re-routing (take the long way home) Chapter 5. Everything (he) is blue Chapter 6. A needle of lies Chapter 7. Act of war (and parting ways) Act Two - The Appeal Chapter 8. Time heals (almost) all wounds Chapter 9. When Fate comes crashing (back) ~~more chapters will be added

[toooster]

One of a Kind. | Criminal Minds AU| Chapter 5

Summary: I don’t want to write one 😪

Warnings: SA! Rape! Sexist cop! Swearing/cussing! Jackie Santori!

Words: 1.8k

A/n: this chapter is heavily based on that one episode in either the end of season two or start of season 3, (I don’t remember) which is why the warnings are there. Also I think this is the quickest I’ve updated in a while..in the middle of writing this I started crying and had to stop- so that’s why it took longer 😭

The new case was located in a city all too familiar to Aaliyah, the moment Spencer woke her up, her heart started racing.

What if she saw his mother? What if she saw his father? What if she saw his sisters? A million questions flooded into her head, making her heart pound.

Spencer, Derek, Emily, and Aaliyah all went to the victims house while JJ, Hotch, and Rossi went to the precinct.

About 20 minutes passed before Aaliyah noticed they were pulling into the victims neighborhood. Brookdale , why did that sound so familiar?

I stepped out of the SUV with Emily close behind me, the boys had already approached the door, waiting for us to join them.

After about 3 knocks the door opened to reveal a sweet looking older lady, about 75. She looked at me with a shocked expression, almost like she knew who I was.

Morgan started talking to her while I took a minute to scan my surroundings. Then I saw it. The big sign with Joey's face on it, that read "Live Like Joey Santori. #LLJS"

My heart sunk to my toes.

I was currently standing at the neighbor's house of my dead boyfriend's childhood home. "You coming?" Reid asked me as I stood there, almost as if I couldn't move.

I snapped out of it and walked in with Reid, the older woman sat on the couch as Morgan and Emily spoke to her. Every now and then she'd give me a look, like she was begging me to save her from all of this.

I'd give her sympathetic looks and then nod to whatever either of them had said, it continued like that for about 15 minutes before we got back in the car and headed towards the precinct.

As we walked through the doors, the smelled of strong, cheap cologne filled my nostrils. It smelt like high school all over again.

I sat down with one of the officers as we started looking through evidence, "so which one did you sleep with the get here?" He snorted, "excuse me?" I asked with disgust in my tone.

I was hoping I hadn't heard him right. "You heard me, a pretty girl like you doesn't just make her way to the BAU." He responded with another snort. "Ok Kermit, here's what we're not gonna do, make sexist jokes. I'm here because I worked my ass off, that's more than you can say, officer scoller." And with that I walked off.

If I hadn't, I probably would've slammed his head into a wall, what's with men lately I thought to myself. I dread for the day that Avi has to deal with this.

I'd only been in page for a couple hours, yet I was still waiting for the news that we could go home.

So far we knew nothing about our unsub or our victims. We had two 30 year old males, dead, missing their junk and hands. I could already tell this was going to be an interesting case.

"Where do we go from here? We've got nothing, no finger prints, nothin." Scoller huffed. Oh how I wish this unsub would take him too.

"We interview anyone who worked around the time the bodies were dropped, they were dropped in an Alley surrounded by bars, shops, and restaurants. Some had to of seen our unsub." Rossi spoke, "Our unsub is most likely a female, possibly a history of being sexual assaulted or raped." I added, "Why take their penises though?" Another officer asked, "It's a sign." Reid explained, "In cases like this, most women do it to show that they can't hurt anyone anymore."

"Hunt, your from around here right?" Hotch asked as everyone started to dismiss, "Yes, unfortunately." I replied. "Great. Take Reid with you to the crime scene, talk to anyone who might've seen a woman talking up guys." "Got it. Let's go Reid!" I yelled as I grabbed my keys.

The car ride was silent, which was unusual for Reid. He was always yapping about something, but it was a comfortable silence.

"We're here." I told Reid as I opened my car door, revealing cigarette buds all over the asphalt. Ew. I thought to myself as I stepped out of the car.

Reid followed me into a nearby bar, I could feel his breath on the back of my neck. I could also hear his heartbeat going a mile a minute, why was he so nervous? I thought.

We walked to the bar, only to be welcomed by the worst sight ever. "Well what a surprise? You finally bring my grandbabies? Oh I hope you didn't bring them in this bar!" Jackie hissed.

"No and no. I'm here for work, so I need you to move." I hissed back at her, "Why can't you ever be kind? Who's this handsome young man? New boy you?" She asked, playing with Reid's tie.

I was quick to ripped it out of her hands, "No. Jackie, leave it. Have a nice day." I said as I pulled Reid by his tie towards the nearest bartender.

"Who was that?" Reid asked me as he smoothed his tie, "don't worry about it." I responded. "Hi. I'm Agent Hunt, this is Dr.Reid," I explained as I flashed my badge, "Was there a woman in your bar, around a week ago?" I asked, "she would've been flirtatious, any man that gave her the light of day she'd talk to. Short or tall, Attractive or not." Reid added.

"That's pretty much every chick that steps into this bar. Most women come here to get laid, so they take anyone." The bartender told us, "She would've been very provocative, even going as far as giving men money." I explained again.

"Now that you say that, there was this one girl. Real petite little thing, only about 4'9? Maybe 115 pounds? Brown hair, green eyes. She was hitting on all of us. I'm not even sure she was 21. She had a stack of cash in her bra, I guess guys found it attractive." "Great thank you. Is the bouncer that was there that night, here?" I asked.

"One sec, Gary! Is Buddy here?" He yelled towards the back of the bar, "Yeah, he's out back smoking a cigar." The man who I presume was Gary responded.

Reid and I went out back to talk to Buddy, only to find a 5'6 man with a bushy beard smoking a cigar. "I thought he'd be bigger.." I whispered to Reid.

"You buddy?" Reid asked, "yes sir. How can I help ya?" "We need to know the name of a girl that was here like Thursday." "Alrighty." he responded, "she was around 4'9, about 115 pounds. She had brown hair and green eyes, very flirty." I said as I read off of Reid's notebook.

"Oh ya! Uh Rosemary..uh Gomez?" He said slightly wary, "thank you." I responded before heading back to the car, Reid close behind.

As soon as the two got in the car Reid called Hotch to let him know what they'd found out. "Good work you two. I'll have Garcia send you and address so you can bring her in." Hotch said as he hung up the phone.

It only took Garcia about 5 minutes to find Rosemary’s address and give it to us.

We pulled up to her house, it was small and cute. Had a cute little welcome sign on the front door, little motivational rocks spread throughout the garden. If she hadn’t cut off a dudes penis I would’ve thought she was the sweetest person ever.

*knock lnock* “Can I help you?” The girl asked, she looked exactly like how they’d described her. “Hi, I’m Dr.Reid, this is Agent Hunt. We’re with the FBI. We need to speak with you.” As soon as it left Reid’s mouth she bolted.

“Damnit!” I yelled as I pushed the door out of my way and took after her, she wasn’t very fast. I tackled her to the ground and threw the handcuffs on her.

“Why’d you have to make it harder than it has to be?” I hissed at her as I yanked her up from the ground.

We headed back to the precinct, as she yelled and cussed us out the whole ride.

When we got back to the precinct I was insistent on interrogating Rosemary, Hotch didn’t like the idea but I felt she’d be more comfortable with a female if my hunch was right.

I started pacing the room as I put my hands on my hip. “You grew up in a single parent home, most likely only your father was present. You often craved male validation due to the fact your father never gave it to you, yet when you get said male validation you start to view the men as objects. Like once was done to you,” I stated, “you were raped or sexually assaulted by a male, most likely older. Any older male you see who reminds you of the man who did this to you, makes your blood boil. Which started the killings, you started getting validation form the killings, cutting off their genitals gave you a since of comfort. Knowing they couldn’t hurt anyone..yet they weren’t the ones who did it to you. Meaning the men or..man who did it to you is either dead or far far away.” I continued on.

She sat in front of me and stared blankly at the wall, she had tears welding in her eyes. Any moment she would break, and I knew that. So I kept going.

“You decided a long time ago not to have children, because the idea of a man..doing that to you again, even with consent made your skin crawl. The meer thought of having a son disgusted you.” I watched as she started to break down.

I had her right where I wanted her, “I’m right, aren’t I?” I asked her. “Stop it!” She yelled as she slammed her fist onto the table, “please just stop!” She begged.

“Is that what those men begged of you while you took away their manhood?” I questioned, she sobbed in front of me. I almost felt bad for her.

“I had to!” She confessed, “they would hurt other girls if I didn’t!” She yelled in between sobs. “They weren’t the ones who did it to you and you knew that! Those were innocent men! I mean killing your rapist I can understand but killing random men who did nothing is sickening.” I spoke with disgust lacing my voice, make sure she could hear it.

And with that I was done, but it was easy. Too easy almost. “Good job Hunt. That was scary, I’ll admit.” Morgan said as he patted me on the back, “what’s wrong?” Emily asked as she walked up behind me.

“I can’t help but feel bad for her..she went through so much. She was trapped in this cycle. She saw every man as her rapist, it was never ending for her.” “Yeah I understand. Unfortunately this is part of the job.” Emily said as she rubbed my back and walked off.

[esote-rika]

Once Upon a Dream | Spencer Reid

ii. a remembrance of dreams, or S.R. entries 1-4 | prev chapter | next chapter | series masterlist

Content: spoilers for s15, mentions of brain injury and trauma A/N: No idea if this even remotely sounds like Spencer but I tried my best lol.

August 24, 20─

I dreamt of Maeve earlier. 

Actually, I've been dreaming of Maeve for several nights now, but I fell asleep on the jet and woke up to Emily giving me a look which tells me I was probably mumbling her name in my sleep. Since the seizure, I've been having them. They aren't as detailed as the hallucinations, which I try not to tell anyone save my therapist because a coma induced hallucination is apparently not a very good conversation piece. (Or as Penelope told me.)

Maeve hadn't spoken in this dream; she never really does. And I couldn't see her face, but then I've been having those types of dreams too, since she died, so it isn't entirely out of the ordinary. She was walking in front of me, and I was calling out to her, which is probably why Emily heard me sleep talking. 

Her words—Maeve’s, not Emily's—always ring true in my ears, despite the fact that she'd said it in a strange state. Maybe it wasn't even her. Doctors did say a brain under duress can be fickle, and make up images that we can't quite discern from reality. I know the research behind it, the science of my hallucinations from that day when my brain decided to bleed out.

Despite that, I still believe it had been Maeve who spoke to me that night. And maybe in my dreams, too, she's trying to communicate something else from beyond. I had not lied to her in our conversation—regardless of how tenuous that conversation had been. Whether or not it was reality isn't the point; the point is, I had not lied. 

She had asked me what I love, and I'd answered magic. And ghost stories. And as spooky as dreaming about your dead girlfriend is, I find some strange comfort in knowing I can still see her. Because I hadn't lied when I said I loved her. 

I still do.

September 2, 20–

My therapist said it's normal to continue having dreams of Maeve, but then I had launched into a long spiel about Freud's theory of dreams (which she, may I add, actively participated in; I think she liked talking to someone else about it) and before I knew it, we had been talking for nearly the entire session and debating about Freud and Jung. 

I hadn't had the chance to tell her about the dream I had a few nights ago, which I believe is imperative. 

I touched her. Maeve. I’d finally managed to come up to her, and touched her hand. She's still faceless, but… it felt good. Nice. Her hands were cold. I didn't remember them ever being cold before, but then I wasn't really able to touch her when she'd been alive. Is that why her hands are cold? Because of death, and I'm trying to touch a ghost? Perhaps I'm just lonely and this has become the ramblings of a crazed genius.

September 5, 20─

The thing about having an eidetic memory is that of permanence. All my life, I have had it for better or for worse; whereas people find trouble recalling facts, I am plagued by the complete opposite. They swirl inside my mind, never giving me peace, sometimes slipping out of my mouth unbidden—by myself, or by the people around me. Sometimes both.

Dreams have always been the same way; whereas most people lose their recollection of those vague dalliances when they were unconscious, I wake up with memories so vivid I could almost believe they were real. All the time.

But not now. For some reason, my dreams have been hazy as of late. They'd begun on August 18, which had been precisely a month after I had recovered from the brain injury sustained from the standoff with Everett Lynch. I don't understand the importance of the dates yet, but feel the need to write them down regardless. Doctors like to ask for evidence, even though I have more than enough proof of my abilities but for some reason, they don’t seem to trust my memory. 

I can understand why, memories are unreliable, after all, and I’ve had my fair share of false ones. Especially during that time in Mexico and—well, it seems I ramble in my journals as well. 

I had a point. The dreams. Well, my memories are connected to the dreams, so I suppose the ramblings weren’t too far off. Specifically, that I have been forgetting them. It started back in the beginning of September. Back in the dream where I'd been able to touch her, hold her hand. Even that dream is hazy now, but I can recall that her hand was cold. 

I shall have to consult this with my therapist and the neurologist for a second opinion. I myself have some theories, of which some are academic, some esoteric and interpretative. My brain might be acting up again. I'm due for a check up anyways, maybe I can have my doctors refer me to have another scan done, just to see if there are any complications happening.

On the other hand, this might be symbolic—a  sign of moving on. Of Maeve finally letting go, and me… well, trying again. I had tried with Max, and while that didn't work out, it wasn't bad. Just… spoiled because of one particular experience with an unsub whom I will not give a name. 

Whatever it is, I will get to the bottom of it. Until then, I look forward to dreaming again, even if it's not a guarantee I can remember those dreams.

September 9, 20–

It’s not Maeve. It’s not - I don’t know who it is. She’s still faceless. The therapist - I haven’t gotten the chance to talk to her face to face yet, but I called over the phone and she agreed that this might be my subconscious way of telling me to move on. 

But it’s not Maeve. It’s not — so what could this mean? That I have moved on? Is it JJ? But - no, I don't even want to entertain thoughts of that. We had worked it out. It’s just - she’s a blonde, and I’m trying to go through all of the blonde women I’d known in my life. Lila. Ashley Seaver. Why would I be dreaming about any of them? How could I be dreaming of another girl already? Is this simply a manifestation of my loneliness? I don’t want to tell that to my therapist, because that sounds rather pathetic, if I’m being honest. Nearly forty and dreaming of women. Freud would have a field day– speaking of, I should go through his theory of dreams again. Figure this out while I wait for the results from my neurologist. 

In the meantime, work is going well. Being in a consultation position is easier than being always out on the field, however, it does give me a lot of free time at my office. Time to think. And inevitably, my thoughts always seem to lead back to her.

[alana-reid-2005]

we all joke about and objectify this man, but do we stop to think how sad his story is? he grew up friendless and ruthlessly bullied for being a literal genius. constantly picked on by his coworkers, and he’s never in on the joke. he’s always being laughed at, never laughed with because no one understands his existentialist humor. he never has plans or places to go on the weekend after work. he goes to work then goes to his lonely home with all his books to keep him company. on occasion, he haunts the chess table at the park or meets with an old professor. no one takes the time to appreciate his weird little quirks. no one took the time to ask him if he was okay after the several traumatic incidents he endured. no one takes care of him because everyone’s too busy leaving. he could be a male model, yet he’s never thought of himself as attractive. when he does find love, he’s brutally stripped of it before he can blink. spencer reid, the lonely genius who learned of love too late and loss too soon.

[dream-a-little-bigger-x]

Begin Again: Chapter Two - Sneak-peek | Spencer Reid

He had been staring at his phone for hours. The phone number he had saved last night had been screaming at him, telling him to call it. Yet, he still hesitated. Every logical sense in him told him he shouldn’t call her. It would’ve been too creepy, too stalkery for him to call her so out of the blue. 

“What are you up to, Pretty Boy?” Derek asked when he found his coworker at his desk, staring at his cellphone, something the young profiler usually never did. 

Spencer coughed and stuffed his phone in his pocket. “N-nothing,” he stuttered. 

“Oh, come on now.” Derek sat down on the corner of Spencer’s desk. “You’re thinking about calling her, aren’t you?” 

Of course Spencer couldn’t lie to Derek. To none of his colleagues, for that matter. They were the best at their job. It shouldn’t surprise him that he knew what was happening. 

“Isn’t it weird to call someone after not having seen them for seventeen years?” Spencer asked, furrowing his brows in confusion. 

Derek shrugged. “It’s only gonna be weird if you make it weird,” he said, then sighed at the sight of his coworker’s forlorn expression. “If you don’t feel confident calling her, then don’t. Give it some time. Think it over. But, kid…” Spencer looked up at him again. “If a girl has been on your mind for seventeen years, it must mean something.” 

“Yeah… I guess…”

Chapter Two of Begin Again | Spencer Reid, coming soon!