#spencer reid x fem!baureader

[basketonthedoorstepofthefbi]

Spencer Reid x Read fic. Reid and Reader are friends, like best friends. Reader is always offering Reid donuts and listening to his fun facts and info dumps. It's one of those, they both like each other, but also are convinced the other doesn't like them.

Spencer is taking care of a slightly drunk reader whose grandmother called and asked why they're not engaged when they're younger sibling is married and expecting a child. At some point Spencer makes his ever classic comment about how it's safer to kiss and drunk reader, before being able to think, kisses Spencer. I hope that made sense.

OOPS I DID EXACTLY THAT

Safer to Kiss (Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader

Word Count: 2899

Warnings: Mentions of food, drinking alcohol, mild cursing, outdated expectations of women, and lots of pining

A/N: Hi I wrote this in 2 hours and was extremely entertained, please enjoy and if you send me a fic request I'll probably do it bc this is my hyperfixation hobby right now and very much keeping the demons at bay xD @bxm-1012 thank you for dropping by my inbox! I am VERY tempted to make a part 2 of this, I hope you enjoy! c:

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The whole expiration date thing that women faced was, in your humble opinion, complete and utter bullshit. Here you were, slowly approaching thirty (definitely still told people you were twenty-five, when, in fact, you were actually twenty-eight), and the biological clock was ticking. No, you didn’t want kids. Not right now, anyway. Not when you were only two years into your career as a profiler for the FBI’s prestigious Behavioral Analysis Unit. Not when you still had tons of things to check off your bucket list - go to Europe, visit an independent bookstore in every state, pilot a helicopter. 

And you didn’t buy into that whole ‘once a woman hits thirty, her stock plummets’ crap. Not usually, anyway. 

But Nan’s phone calls always left you questioning your existence. 

Back home in Ohio, your little sister, Kendra, had just announced her pregnancy. Three years younger than you (ironically, the age you told everyone you were), and married to a power plant manager, Kendra was living the dream of a woman from the 1950s. You tried your best not to look down on it, to wish for more for her - but Kendra was happy. She’d always wanted to be a mother, and you couldn’t imagine anyone better suited for the role. There was nothing wrong with wanting to be a wife and a mother, to devoting one’s life to it. You reminded yourself of that every time you spoke to Kendra. You especially reminded yourself of it every time you spoke to Nan. 

That sympathetic tone your grandmother used when she said, “Oh, Button, you’ll find someone eventually, and you’ll be just as happy as Kenny” was like nails on a chalkboard. You resisted the urge to gag into your speakerphone and simultaneously rip your grandmother a new one. You wanted so badly to explain to her that you were perfectly fulfilled with your life. 

You helped lock up bad guys on a weekly basis, you wanted to remind Nan. Your brain was one of few that had been chosen for a task force that caught criminals based on their behavior. It was amazing, working for the BAU, bouncing ideas off of your colleagues, finding a family within this small group of people that spent more than forty hours a week together. 

Nan didn’t see it that way. She wanted you to be just like Kendra. She wanted you to have that white picket fence in the suburbs, with a broad-shouldered husband and two little tykes running at your feet. Domestic bliss just wasn’t in the cards for you, you’d decided. And that was okay.

You were still reeling from your conversation with Nan the night before when you walked in to work on Monday morning. It was Derek who caught the raging RBF first. “Woah, pretty girl. Pump. Your. Brakes.” He said, halting you just as you entered the BAU’s bullpen, holding a hand up to stop you. 

“Good morning to you, too, Derek,” You flashed him a phony grin, and he rolled his eyes. 

“And you’re grumpy this morning… why, exactly?” Derek asked, turning to walk beside you, essentially escorting you to your desk. 

“Because I’m allowed to be?” You proffered, shrugging your shoulders, not really wanting to talk about it with him. You loved Derek - hell, you loved all your coworkers - but he was not the person you wanted to go to with these thoughts. You didn’t really want to talk to anyone about it, actually. You just wanted to ride the cranky train until it came to a complete stop. 

Emily was returning from the kitchenette with a fresh mug of coffee and decided that the conversation concerned her as well. “What’s going on?” she asked. 

“Y/L/N’s wearing her cranky pants this morning,” Derek filled her in. 

“Oh, those so don’t match your blouse, Y/N,” Emily teased, winking at you with a smirk before looking at Derek. “Cut her some slack. No one likes Mondays.” Derek held up his palms defensively. “Alright, alright. Forgive me for being a concerned citizen.” 

“It’s appreciated,” You told Derek genuinely before setting your bag down at your desk. “But unnecessary.” 

It wasn’t until later in the morning, around ten, that anyone bothered you about your obvious bad mood again. This time it was Spencer, the one person you couldn’t possibly be annoyed with. He rolled on his desk chair around the partition that separated your workspaces, holding his hand out expectantly, like he usually did this time of day. 

Without speaking, you opened the bottom drawer of your desk and pulled out the white bag of mini powdered donuts that you always kept in stock. They were your guilty pleasure snack, and one of the first things you and Spencer bonded over when you started at the BAU two years ago. That, and the fact that you were the closest agents in age, was how you got along so well so quickly. Over several cases, varying in degrees of intensity, you and Spencer became really great friends. Best friends, actually. 

There wasn’t anyone else in your life that you trusted more than Spencer Reid. 

You opened the bag of powdered donuts and shook one haphazardly into Spencer’s palm, then grabbed one for yourself. Silently, you cheers-ed your donuts together, and ate them simultaneously, making weird-but-comfortable eye contact as you did. 

“Derek says you’re in a bad mood today,” Spencer pointed out with a teasing smirk on his face. A smirk, and white sugar blanketing his upper lip.

“Derek’s full of shit,” you grinned after swallowing your snack, the smile on your face totally facetious. “I’m extremely happy.” 

“I can tell,” Spencer snickered as you set the powdered donuts back in your snack drawer, closing it with a clank. You watched as he brought both of his legs up into his desk chair, crossing them like a kindergartner. 

The action made your stomach flutter. You’d felt strongly about Spencer for a really long time, probably a year and half, if you had to try and pinpoint it. But there was no use in going down that road with him. For one thing, he was your best friend, and you didn’t want to risk flushing the best relationship in your life down the toilet. For another thing, you knew it was one hundred percent impossible that he could feel the same way. 

“What’d you do this weekend?” Spencer asked, and you could tell by the question that he was trying to discover the source of your poor attitude. 

“Stayed home, caught up on chores,” You said, crossing your knees and leaning back in your seat, your expression telling him that you knew exactly what he was doing. As much fun as playing mind games with Spencer was, you decided to throw him a bone. “Spoke to my grandmother on the phone last night.” 

Spencer nodded understandingly. “Say no more,” he said with a chuckle. “She gave you the whole ‘when are you going to get married’ spiel again?” 

You nodded. “Unfortunately. I usually don’t let it bother me, but for some reason it’s just, like, lurking in the back of my mind today.” You shrugged your shoulders and exhaled through your nose. “What about you?” You asked. 

“What about me?” Spencer arched a brow, and you rolled your eyes playfully. 

“What’d you do this weekend?” 

“Oh,” Spencer began, pursing his lips for a moment, like he was hesitant to tell you. “I actually went on a date.” 

Your stomach flipped. “Oh yeah?” You choked out, forcing a smile. “Who with?” 

“That girl, Lisa, from the coffee shop, the one you told me wouldn’t stop ‘ogling my boy band hair’,” Spencer held up air quotes when he repeated your words from memory.

You recalled the cute barista from the coffee shop just down the highway from Quantico, a popular morning stop for agents on their way to work. You tried to stop the jealousy from turning your blood into fire. “How was it?” You asked, trying to resist the urge to sit on the edge of your seat, trying not to hang on his every word. 

Spencer shrugged his shoulders. “It was okay. She was very nice, but there just wasn’t…” he trailed off, gesticulating as the words failed to come to that supercomputer brain of his. 

“It was like a donut without powdered sugar on it?” You suggested with a small chuckle.

“Yeah,” Spencer agreed, nodding, meeting your eyes and smiling, mildly amused. “Exactly.” 

Spencer went back to his desk a few minutes later, and the rest of the day went on. It was quiet, especially for a day at the BAU. There were, weirdly enough, no open cases right now, so you spent the day catching up on paperwork, which there was always plenty of. 

You caught the elevator about ten minutes after five with Spencer in tow, and you held the door open for him. It was just the two of you as you made the descent from the sixth floor, and Spencer leaned against the back wall. “Plans tonight?” He asked. 

“Not really, no,” You said, shaking your head. “Why, you want to do something?” You asked. 

Spencer nodded. “There’s this landscape and nature photography exhibit at one of the galleries downtown,” he said. “Might be fun. There’s this artist, Milton Harvell, who takes photos of renowned locations around the world but zooms in on an obscure detail and gives the framed photograph to the person who correctly guesses the location.” 

You smiled slowly at that. You loved it when Spencer went off on one of his tangents. You found it completely adorable. “It’s actually quite fascinating,” Spencer went on, an amused tone lining his voice, making it sound lighter. “Kind of like a Where’s Waldo, but in reverse. There was this one photograph he took of the Louvre in Paris, but he zoomed in really tightly on a young boy enjoying an ice cream cone. He even went so far as to edit the photograph to make it look like it was a different time of day. The four thousand and eighth person to view the photograph was the person who guessed the correct location.” Spencer’s head bobbed and he was smiling like an idiot. 

God, you were down bad. 

“Was the four thousand and eighth person… you?” You asked, narrowing your eyes at him scrupulously and allowing a teasing grin to cross your face. 

“The photo’s hanging in my living room,” he confirmed. 

You laughed softly. “Will there be alcohol at this function?” You asked him, and he nodded. 

That was all you needed to hear. 

— — —

You and Spencer went straight to the art gallery from work, sharing a cab rather than bothering with your cars. You immediately bought a glass of red wine, and began to follow him around the gallery. You weren’t an art aficionado, not by any means, but you enjoyed looking at beautiful things, and you especially enjoyed spending time with Spencer that wasn’t hunched over a dead body or trying to map out a killer’s comfort zone. It was a rare occurrence, so you tried to soak it all up as much as possible. 

Plus, your Nan’s words were still lingering in the back of your head. It’ll happen for you someday, Button. Men just don’t find you strong, career types attractive. Maybe you should soften up your look a little. 

You downed your first glass of wine within ten minutes, and caught one of the catering staff passing out champagne almost instantaneously after. The champagne fizzled down your throat as you strolled with Spencer through the art gallery, listening intently as he went on about each piece, rattling off whatever contextual knowledge he had. But you were a little bit biased; you could listen to him list different types of soil and find it interesting. 

After the glass of champagne came another glass of champagne, and by the time you made it to the main exhibit Spencer wanted to see, your cheeks were flushed. It wasn’t that you couldn’t hold your alcohol; rather, it just made you a little bit silly. Your inhibitions were lowered, just like it would affect anyone. But with your arm looped through Spencer’s and your Nan’s nagging message still in the back of your mind, you were perhaps a little more loose than usual. 

As Spencer examined the exhibit, you tapped your foot, unable to keep still, and scanned the open space. Your eyes landed on another patron of the gallery, a conventionally handsome man about your age, and you found yourself unlooping your arm from Spencer’s, subconsciously not wanting to appear taken. 

“Are you gonna go talk to that guy?” Spencer asked, and you snapped your eyes back to his. “Because you can, if you want to. Don’t let me stop you.” 

It was almost like he was daring you to. Spencer’s jaw seemed tense as you examined his expression, the way his gorgeous brown eyes darted from the man and back to you. “You don’t mind?” You asked, arching a brow, almost like a challenge.

Spencer shook his head, his lips pursed. “Not at all. I’ll wait here for you?” 

You nodded, and turned towards the man. There wasn’t any harm in getting a guy’s number, right? Your feelings for Spencer were a lost cause, anyway. Plus, as Nan liked to point out, you weren’t getting any younger. 

The man’s eyes locked on yours and he seemed to understand that you were about to speak with him. He met you halfway, and you shook his hand. “Malcolm Greene,” he introduced himself, and you spouted off your own name in return. “You’re not here with that guy?” He asked, jerking his chin over to Spencer. Your eyes followed Malcolm’s, and you saw Spencer with his body turned towards the photography exhibit, but his head turned to the side, as if he were keeping an eye on you with his peripheral vision. 

“Yeah, I am,” you said, and Malcolm’s head inclined to the side. “I am. I’m here with that guy,” you panicked, suddenly realizing in that moment that you weren’t interested in speaking with Malcolm. No, you had absolutely no interest in spending your time with any other man but Spencer Reid. “I just, uh…” Your cheeks flushed, and you stifled an awkward laugh, anxiously trying to come up with some excuse. “I came over here to tell you that your shoe was united.” 

Your eyes followed Malcolm’s down to his shoes, which were loafers. Laceless loafers. Malcolm’s mouth opened as if to point this out to you, but you managed to stammer words out first. “Ok, well, have a great night, goodbye!” You turned on your heel and marched back over to Spencer, your cheeks red as you reached out for his arm. 

Spencer furrowed his brows down at you as your arm gripped his. “I need another glass of wine,” you confessed. 

Twenty minutes later, after two more glasses of wine and a very watchful eye out for Malcolm, you and Spencer left the art gallery. You were awfully giggly on the cab ride back to your place, cracking puns and humming along to the radio intermittently. Spencer seemed to be amused, but more so concerned with getting you home in one piece. 

As he walked you up the stairs to the door of your apartment building, he was teasing you about your conversation with Malcolm, which you still hadn’t told him completely about. “I still can’t believe you didn’t get his number. You were talking with him for exactly two minutes and twelve seconds. What, in that short of an amount of time, could have turned you off to him so quickly?” He pondered aloud, a playfully mocking tone lining his voice. 

“Listen, I shook his hand! I had my fun!” You exclaimed, bursting into laughter as you leaned against the handrail of the stairs that led up to the door. “Good, clean fun!” 

“You know, the number of pathogens that are passed during a handshake is staggering. It’s actually safer to kiss someone,” Spencer rattled off, and your eyes snapped to meet his. 

You don’t know what took you over. Maybe it was the wine. Maybe it was the way the street lamps reflected in the irises of his eyes, or how you stood just a few inches away from him. Maybe it was his stupid tweed blazer, how he looked like a tenured art history professor despite barely being thirty years old. Maybe it was the way he smelled like pine and printer ink, a combination you wouldn’t have ever thought was attractive. 

But when Spencer said that, you stood up on your toes and kissed him. It was slow and innocent at first, until it passed the border into lingering, and Spencer’s hands found your hips, pulling your body closer to his. There was a cool night breeze that filtered through the space between your bodies, and by the time you pulled your lips away from Spencer’s, and slowly opened your eyes, you were completely red in the face and breathless. 

No, that certainly wasn’t the safest choice you could have made.

——

read part 2 here

[inmyminditsreal]

Hello

Can you do a request where the reader is held captive and Spencer has to save her? You can decide if they are already a couple or not.

Thanks

Hey!! Yes of course!! What i wrote is kinda dark but hope you enjoy!

Fem!reader x spencer reid

Summary: reader gets kidnapped and tortured while Spencer and the team have to save her.

Word count: 1.3k

Warnings: Blades/cutting skin, torture.

It was a normal case. Well, not ‘normal’ but as you go along as an agent, you get more suited to the terror. The case you’re working on started out simple. Guy kidnaps and tortures girls for fun. It's eerie and just the thought makes your skin crawl. You went out on a hunch without telling anyone. Now, you’re in this man's basement after being knocked out in combat. You wake up. 

You look around, and you notice that you’re tied to a chair, in the middle of a cold, dark basement with strange drawings on the walls.

“Where the fuck am I?!” You snarl into the dark basement.

You hear a high pitched child-like voice say from behind you, 

“Just where I want you to be my love~.”

It was horrifying. You feel a shiver run down your spine as you feel the cold press of a blade on the base of your neck.

“I bet all your friends are looking for you, hmm agent? I bet they care about you so much.” It taunts.

You stumble across the courage to say, “They’re fast.”

It laughs while carefully caressing the knife over your face, lurking over you like a leech. You wait in agony as it teases you with the tip of the blade. 

Finally, walking in front of you. You see that it's a man, a full-grown man. Disheveled and disgusting. He has brown shaggy hair that hangs in greasy loops over his face. His skin looks rough and scarred. His eyes are staring maniacally into yours. Just by looking at him, you get the feeling you get when you see something you weren’t supposed to. He didn’t look right or sound right.

“What? You don’t like what you see?” he pouts while kneeling in front of you. You can’t shake the dread you feel hearing his voice. It’s so young. So child-like and sort of off. You don’t say a word. His face contorts into a smile.

“Well, soon enough you will.” 

He walks over to the corner and returns with a camera. He sets it up facing you. He turns it on. Waving at the camera with a wide infantile grin, he walks over to you.

The BAU

“I don't know what to do! Did anybody get any information about where she was going?” Penelope urged. Everyone was crowded in her office, scanning the monitors for any information that would lead to you. Spencer was the first to speak while he was pacing around the room,

“No- why didn’t she tell any of us! She should’ve known to tell us. God, why didn't she think!"

He sounds angry to the normal person, but to the rest of the team they know he’s desperately worried.

“Wait! Did you check his laptop? Like everything on it, what he was doing, stuff like that.” Spencer rushes over and questions Garcia. 

She quickly chimes back, “Obviously! Wait- oh my god. There was a page I didn’t open. You know how his parents told us he used to stream online? Maybe he still does.” 

Everyone is now huddled against Penelope.

“Oh my god.” Emily mutters. He was streaming. You were on the stream, sitting in a dimly lit basement with drawings of animals and candy all over the walls. A tall man standing behind you combing your hair, with a knife.

“Oh my god that piece of shit. Penelope can you track this? Please. Do it. Now.” Spencer hisses. He’s never normally like this. But with you in danger, something about him is feral. 

Penelope gets a little startled at his harsh tone but nevertheless stabs back with, 

“On it. Looking looking looking…..Got it! 2734 linktin ave.”

Spencer almost runs out the door. The team follows behind him but his urgency alarms them all slightly. 

Basement

You suddenly start to cry. You keep telling yourself that the team is coming and that they’ll find you. But you can’t lie that you’re losing hope. Fast. The man sets out some surgical tools on the floor and leans into your face. With a box cutter in hand, he grabs your wrist with a fierce grip and starts slowly dragging the knife into your hand, leaving you writhing in pain. You try your best not to show any emotion, hoping that maybe he’d stop. But to no avail. With a scoop of his finger, he takes your blood and asks you one simple question, “What do you wanna be?”

You wail, “What do you mean?!! What do you want!?”

“Hmm… I guess i'll decide for you!” he smiles and begins to dig his fingers into your wound, takes out the blood and begins to draw on your face, slowly with excruciatingly careful strokes he drips the warm blood over your skin. You shutter and cry when suddenly he screams,

“STOP CRYING! You stupid BITCH! YOU’RE RUINING MY MASTERPIECE!”

You wail in pain as he digs the knife into your hand, drawing agonizing lines once, another time, and another. Each time drawing more and more on your face and down your neck. He begins to pull on your lips, mimicking a smile- then quickly pulling them down into a frown. All while smiling.

The BAU

Spencer was pushing on the gas, speeding to get to you. In his mind, he kept thinking of your smile, your kind eyes, and all the things he loves about you. He hasn’t told you that he loves you yet, and he started to regret that decision as your absence progressed. He swerves into the man's driveway and immediately gets out running into the house. The door is locked. With a steady kick to the door, it swung sporadically open. He starts stalking inside, gun drawn. The team quickly rushes in behind him.

“Wait reid!” Derek insists. 

Spencer isn’t phased and opens every single door until he finds the basement. The basement door which was once locked, now lay battered and broken clinging to its hinges. The team quickly hurry down the steps yelling, “FBI DROP YOUR WEAPON AND PUT YOUR HANDS UP!”

The man quickly holds the knife up to your neck, taunting the team with his threat.

“Don’t you dare touch her. Put your hands up and drop the knife. Now.” Spencer snaps at the man. The man laughs, and then, in an instant, a gunshot rings throughout your ears. You feel the grip on your neck start to falter, and you hear the man's body thump on the cold ground behind you. The team's eyes beam towards Spencer and his gun. 

Spencer and Emily quickly undo your restraints, and as you try to get up, your legs wobble and Spencer catches you in his arms. 

“You’re safe now, let's get you to the doctor.” 

“Wait- let me see my face-.” 

Spencer nods and lifts you up, taking you to a mirror. You look in the mirror, horrified. You finally understand what the man meant by ’what do you want to be’. He was doing face paint. There were long thin lines that resembled grotesque clown lips and nose, eye liner, blush, and detailed lines. How could he have done this? With blood and a blade. It was brutal. You begin to sob at your reflection.

Up in the driveway you’re greeted by paramedics who cater to your wounds and sit you down in the ambulance. Once you’re all patched up, Spencer walks over to you, wrapping you in a blanket and sitting beside you.

“I’m so sorry.” He mutters.

Due to the loss of blood which was getting fixed by the iv in your arm, you felt hazy.

“It-’ts okay.” you mumble.

“you're safe.” 

“mhm-mm” You hum while leaning your head down on his shoulder. You were too tired to understand any of his words.

“I love you. And I'm sorry I didn't tell you before.”

“M-mn yea.” you mumble.

You weren’t completely sure what was going on, and Spencer picked up on that. He decided he would tell you when you could actually form a sentence. Even though you felt horrible, Spencers arms wrapped around you replaced your dread with warmth, and that you could understand.

[ladygenius]

Crimson Nights & Predators

Hiyaa. Since it’s been an eternity this one is a little on the longer side. Kind of an early mgg birthday celebration🎉💕 let me know if you need a part two! Also: sorry for portraying poor Andersson this way😂 inspo for the slow song:

Description: Spencer enjoys Rossis wedding/the view of his favorite colleague. Then someone disrupts his bliss..

Pairing: Reid x female bau reader

Content: pining, jealousy, just protective cutiepie Spence

Warnings: toxic masculinity, disrespectful talk about women, alcohol consumption

Wordcount: 1900

~~~

"Damn, excuse my French but what I'd do to hit that..."

An almost snorting kind of spiteful laugh disrupted the harmony of the occasion and ripped Spencer from his cheerful thoughts.

It was Rossi’s wedding. He has been so happy for his older colleague and mentor all day, celebrating life with his favorite people. It didn’t matter they were work, it felt just like family. The kind of big chaotic family he himself never had.

It was only an added bonus that he got to admire his longtime crush and coworker y/n in a gorgeous, crimson-colored dress all day. Enhancing the curves around her waistline just beautifully. As much as he didn't want to focus on such superficialities, even he couldn't deny that thought. Every now and then catching one of her dreamy awe-struck glances when Rossi looked at his bride or someone held a romantic speech sends chills down his spine. Always earning one of her sweet smiles when their eyes met.

So, it was pretty obvious why he was having a great time even though he normally dreaded these kinds of social events.

But standing here, waiting for the bartender to fix him up with a drink whilst hearing somebody talk like that about y/n shot an arrow straight to his heart and made his stomach turn.

Talk he couldn't, in a million years, connect in his mind to y/n. No matter how desperately his infatuation with her - he found it a sin to degrade the depth of her beautiful personality and grace in such a vulgar way. Stereotypical macho assholes.

He couldn’t help but further overhear the conversation between the two men also working for the bureau, ignorantly sipping on their drinks just a few feet away from him.

"To be straightforward here, I've had my eye on her for quite some time now..", Andersson confessed to the other guy. "Ain't easy to enjoy that precious view all week without doing anything about it, I can tell you that!

"Well, then how come you haven't put your charms to work already, dumbass?

"Oh, believe me, I tried.. but that one is a tough nut to crack."

Spencer's jaw clenched automatically at their choice of words. He balled his sweaty fists next to his body.

"Is that so? The dark-haired man let out a low whistle. “Well, she sure doesn't look like that.. or dresses that way!" He purposely emphasized the last part of his sentence. Again, their ringing laughter echoed in Spencer’s ears like a siren.

“But considering you’ve already swayed her once on the dancefloor today, it sure shouldn’t be too much of a challenge to finally claim your prize tonight, don’t you think? After all, you know what they say about chicks at weddings.” The stranger nudged Andersson in his side while almost spilling his drink on him. “Especially if they're single, I mean.. she is single, right?” Andersson let out a long breath, “Well.. no one really knows, actually. She’s not exactly open about things like that. But considering the long hours she often stays behind in the bullpen, I just always figured she was.”

As he was just about to react to his theory, Andersson’s friend spotted Spencer at the bar.

“Doesn’t Daddy Longlegs here also work in her unit?”, clearly the unfamiliar hunk was already too drunk or just too ignorant to realize that he was talking more than loud enough for Spencer to hear him. “Let’s see what he knows.”

Timed perfectly, Spencer was just being served his dry martini - now he really thanked himself for choosing something this strong - as Andersson addressed him hesitantly,

"Um, hey, Reid. I was wondering.. If maybe you know something about y/n's dating life. You know, given the fact you work together pretty close.. is she, uhm.. available?"

Already in the midst of turning on his heel, he felt especially triggered by his choice of words and eventually couldn't help but address this.

"Well, first off all, Andersson, y/n is a person, she is not available like a stapler lying around, unoccupied. And second, if you're so interested in that matter, why don't you gather up the courage and ask her yourself? After all, you seem to be confident enough to inappropriately talk about her behind your back.

So if you'd excuse me."

He didn't even wait for either of them to react. Having his mind already made up about what he needed to do now, he quickly scanned the room for y/n.

And there she was, as radiant as ever. She sat at the BAU's table alone after just seemingly having declined Garcia's offer of hitting the bar for a refill.

Spencer's instinct of protecting her from what he just heard immediately set in. No matter how old-fashioned and stereotypical it might be - he knew she could handle herself very well on her own. But he couldn't help it. Be it the alcohol in his veins or simply his infatuation with her.

"Hey Spence!" her voice chirped, a little hoarse from the glass of sparkling champagne in her hand. The corners of her mouth curled up into a lovely smile upon seeing him approaching her.

But he wasn't smiling. His eyes hid the weight of a thousand worries, all stirred up by the conversation he had just overheard. Worries of her being taken advantage of by some douchey colleague whose only goal is to get into her pants, and probably even worse than that: the egotistic fear of her actually enjoying that kind of attention. Because if the latter was the case, he'd lose her right before his eyes. Losing her.. how would that even be possible? Considering his constant lack of acting when it came to y/n, he knew he had not the slightest right to feel possessive about her.

Her smile was slowly fading as her eyes widened in an expression of surprise or worry, mirroring Spencer's own.

"Would you consider- I-I mean.. do you wanna dance?" he blurted out, just when she was about to ask him what was wrong.

This certainly brought back the smile on her face while leaving her a little flustered at the same time.

"Oh.. Why, yeah, sure!", she resisted looking behind her to rule out the possibility of someone (Morgan) setting him up to that move.

As she noticed his hesitant glance at her hand y/n wanted to take the pressure from him. "You know, we can just dance like this", she reassured him as she placed her hands on his shoulders carefully, trying to read from the look on his face if he was comfortable with it. "Avoid the dangerous hand bacteria, right?". A proud smirk adorned her features. He smiled down at her.

Right. Of course, y/n had not the slightest clue that his only reason for hesitation was self-protection. Not from the potential bacteria on the palm of her hands though. When it comes to her, he has parted with his principles quite a while ago and grown more than fond of the idea of physical contact. A subject his daydreams not seldom evolved around.

His concern was much rather to protect himself from the effect her hands in his might have on his very being, let alone his concentration.

As if reading his mind and wanting to free him from his concerns all the same, y/n reacted instinctively to the next song which really slowed down the pace.

Carefully, she wrapped her arms around his neck. "Is this okay?", she asked shyly as he noticed a slight flush on her cheeks, only adding to her loveliness. Must be the champagne, he thought. “Of course”, he muttered barely audible, his throat dry and his body practically burning with love and desire for the girl in front of him. The woman of his dreams and probably his best friend in the world.

"By the way", Spencer suddenly felt the need to clear his throat, "you look beautiful tonight." Again that lovely pink hue on her cheeks. "I mean, not that you wouldn't always look nice. It's just.. that dress really suits you."

"Thank you, Spencer" y/n responded immediately, reassuring him she got the compliment. Being used to her mostly calling him Spence, his full name on her lips caused his stomach to flip with adoration.

God, how he wanted to kiss her right now.

"You know, that's actually really sweet of you", y/n suddenly ripped him from his thoughts.

"What?", he was frowning his brow in bewilderment. Surely, she couldn’t have read him like that.

"Well, the Spencer Reid I've gotten to know and like wouldn’t exactly count dancing to his favorite activities.. and considering people’s excessive interest in your engagement in this activity, I sure do understand why."

Only now that y/n lead his attention back to the room he noticed how some of their team members were meticulously observing the two of them. Garcia cheered them on excitedly, almost spilling her glass of gin and tonic while Morgan steadied her in his grip, giving Spencer an impressed nod.

A small giggle escaped y/n's throat as she faced the floor for a split second, eyes darting up to meet Spencer's again. She shrugged, "Thanks for doing it anyways."

"Nothing to thank me for, y/n." Her name slipped from his tongue like butter. It always had.

“It’s my honor.. I-I mean, today’s so special, I wouldn’t have missed spending time with my favorite person for the world.” Spencer felt particularly bold this very moment with her hands wrapped around his neck.

“She beamed up at him, looking for words to say. But instead, her face froze as something or someone behind them caught her attention. Negatively.

“Did-did I say something wrong? I didn’t mean to-“, “No! Spence.. I’m glad I’m here with you too.. it’s just, I was especially relieved about your dancing enthusiasm today since it’s pretty sure saving me from some hungry predators waiting for the right moment to attack”, her eyeballs slightly rolled back at her comment.

Even though he knew exactly who she was referring to with her metaphor, he carefully adjusted their position to confirm his suspicion.

The two men, too, were observing them but were apparently oblivious to the amount of chemistry existing between y/n and Spencer. The unfamiliar guy was clearly instructing Andersson as to how strategically proceed in getting y/n to dance with him as soon as she and Spencer parted ways.

"Yeah, I-I've noticed. Is there anything I can do? Should I tell them to leave you alone?"

Y/n smiled at him gratefully, "Oh no, Thanks that's really not necessary." Her mind, however, seemed to completely trail off. Her eyes fixed on the small back door close to them.

"Well, actually, since you're asking already.. there might be one thing you could do for me." An almost childlike excitement stole onto her face.

"But you need to follow me, right away, alright? Do you trust me Spence?"

Okay, so now he really had no clue as to what she was up to, and even though he was a little nervous about her sudden change in demeanor, he still couldn’t help but feel intrigued by the mischievous look in her eyes.

Instead of answering verbally, Spencer decidedly took her hand into his and lightly nodded his head without ever breaking eye contact. “I’m right behind you.”

And all of a sudden, they took off. Y/n’s heels clicked loudly on the floor as they hurried their way toward the back door in long strides.

“Well, buddy, so much about your ambitions”, the dark-haired man patted Andersson on the back on the other side of the ballroom and downed the rest of his long drink.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

What are these to goofballs up to? find out!

Part II | Part III

[darkmatilda]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐥𝐭𝐞𝐫 | 𝐬.𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you got used to running away from the consequences of your actions, but it turned out to be incredibly difficult when the consequences are your coworker and their name is spencer reid.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐰: spencer reid x fem!baureader, canon typical violence and topics, season 1/2 reid, GLASSES REID, queen elle greenaway herself, gideon being a little creep (as usual), reader clearly ovulating lmao, mention of a trauma connected with drowning, mention of one night stands of the reader, inspired by taylor swift song "the bolter", dominant reader (mostly), spencer being awkwardly sweet

𝐚/𝐧: i should be doing my history assigment now instead of writing another freaky long fic but here i am

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 10k

Fuck, you thought the moment you realized you’d woken up in someone’s arms.

Double fuck, you added as it dawned on you that this wasn’t some random guy you met at a club, the kind who’d bought you a drink, whose name you hadn’t even tried to remember, and whose life you could easily disappear from without a second thought. Instead, you were lying in the bed of a coworker—a teammate you saw almost every single day.

Triple fuck.

Maybe even quadruple, because of how much you liked it. That is, lying next to his bare skin. In a position where one of his arms was wrapped around your body, his face buried in your hair, in the curve of your neck. His breathing steady, occasionally tickling you. Pleasant. It was pleasant.

You were up to five fucks already, and you hadn’t even left the bed yet.

There was no doubt in your mind that you were going to do it. By the time Spencer Reid opened his gorgeous, chocolate-brown eyes, you’d already be gone. Long gone, behind the wheel of your car, speeding at the maximum legal limit with the window cracked open, despite the icy gusts of winter air rushing in.

You’d been perfecting this strategy for years. First, you’d lose yourself in strangers’ sheets with moans and gasps, only to slip away in the early morning, filled with a thrill even greater than what you’d felt just a few hours before. Why? A very good question. You wished you had the answer to it.

This situation shouldn’t have been an exception, though theoretically, it already was. After all, you’d never even considered doing this with people you knew so well. People you couldn’t just ghost without consequence. People you—leaning over to check the clock on the bedside table—were supposed to see again in less than an hour!

You rubbed your sleepy face with your hand, silently cursing yourself. If only you’d been drunk the night before. People dodge the consequences of far worse actions than having a sex with a coworker simply by blaming it on alcohol. But no—when all of this started, you’d been completely sober and fully aware. Incredibly turned on, it’s worth mentioning.

Before the memories of the previous night could start ambushing you, you scrambled out of the bed. First, of course, you had to untangle yourself from the mess of limbs—carefully, so as not to wake him. You gently moved his arm aside and adjusted the blanket over his hips. Where this sudden care and tenderness came from was yet another very interesting question.

Tiptoeing around the bedroom, you gathered your clothes. Your panties and bra you shamelessly clutched in one hand, intending to shove them into your jacket pocket later. Before heading for it, though, you paused for a brief moment in front of the bed, in front of the still-sleeping Reid.

The blanket, pushed low, revealed the upper half of his lean body—his prominent collarbones and the smooth, even tone of his delicious skin. His chest rose and fell steadily, his hand resting in the spot where you’d been lying just moments ago. As if you were still there.

What a shame it was only a one-time thing.

Some people, looking at his innocent appearance, had no idea how much he had to offer. Their loss, you thought, leaving the apartment on shaky legs, feeling soreness in most of the muscles in your body.  When you finally got inside the car and the wind began to cool your flushed face and cheeks, the guilt faded away. You didn’t feel as good as usual, your heart wasn’t racing, and the adrenaline wasn’t surging through your veins the way you craved. Strange. Did it have something to do with who your one-night lover was? You shook your head, trying not to dwell on it.

You’d had a really great time together that one night, but that was it. You were officially leaving it behind, forgetting it.

Just like you always did.

It wasn’t an exception, you told yourself, as you took a quick shower in your own apartment.

It wasn’t an exception, and the fact that you worked together didn’t change a thing.

It wasn’t an exception, you kept affirming, crossing the threshold of the office with still-damp hair and the buttons of your fitted black shirt unevenly fastened.

“Are we not greeting each other anymore?” someone’s question snapped you back to reality.

Lost in thought, you realized you’d passed your friend Elle’s desk without even nodding at her. She was sitting on the edge of it, arms crossed over her chest, her dark eyes seeming to pierce through your skull, sifting through your memories. She was sharp—sometimes, too sharp. With nothing more than a sly smile, she let you know she knew something was going on.

"Sorry. I'm still half asleep," you said, approaching her for a hug. You let out a chuckle. "Or maybe I'm completely asleep if I missed such a hot chick in my path."

Elle pushed you away by a finger’s length, her eyebrows raised in a challenge.

"You think you're gonna distract me with compliments? Better start talking—who's the guy?"

“What guy?” someone asked, surprisingly not you, but Derek, who stepped into the room with a massive cup of coffee, nearly dropping it as he tried to greet both of you. You loved the laid-back atmosphere of the early mornings at work, when you had a moment to chat about whatever. “Well, good morning, ladies. From the looks on your faces, I’m guessing you had a nice weekend?”

"From that huge cup of coffee, I’m guessing you did too, if you need that much caffeine. Partying on a Sunday night, you should be ashamed," you replied sarcastically, eyeing your coworker. 

His eyebrows shot up.

"Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed," he whistled.

"She's just trying to change the subject," Elle informed him. "I was just interrogating our little bolter. 

You rolled your eyes at hearing that nickname again. They’d started using it a while ago, as soon as they found out how you handled things with guys. There was nothing judgmental about it—they just really liked to tease you.

It took Morgan a moment to piece together what was going on. When he did, laughter burst from his lips.

"Is that why your hair is still wet? You left in such a rush you didn’t even have time to dry it?"

"She was afraid the sound of the hair dryer would wake the guy up," Elle snorted. "And, heaven forbid, they’d actually have to talk to each other."

“Oh, screw you both,” you muttered, aiming to act your age—in this case, by flipping them off. Before you could, Derek caught your hand, stopping you from spinning on your heel and stomping back to your desk.

“You know,” he said, suddenly a touch more serious, as if the question genuinely intrigued him, “I can’t help but wonder why you actually do it. For me, personally, waking up next to a lovely lady who made the night worthwhile is kind of the best part...”

"Are you asking about the psychological aspects behind it?" You raised an eyebrow. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Elle tilt her head slightly, clearly intrigued. "I don’t know. Something from childhood, probably. Everything stems from there, doesn’t it? Or maybe the reason is something else," you lowered your voice to a near conspiratorial whisper, leaning in closer to their faces as if about to reveal some great secret. "I simply enjoy it. As they say, you don’t pry into people’s bedrooms or wallets."

"That rule doesn’t apply to our friendship, sweetheart."

You chuckled at the remark; sometimes, you really did share a lot with each other. In any case, your response had nothing to do with modesty or shame on those topics. You chose to answer evasively because you didn’t feel like describing how addictive that feeling of escape was, how much control it seemed to give you. How your heart would race in those moments, and how all your fucking lives seemed to flash before your eyes then. 

It was sick, many people have already told you that. Still, you couldn't stop.

"Good morning, everyone." Suddenly, JJ burst in, clutching a briefcase the size of an encyclopedia under her arm. "Hotch wants to see us all in five minutes, we have a new case. You'll find out everything in a moment, but I’ll say right away that it looks like a little trip is in store. Bring warm jackets."

"Mercy, not another case from Alaska..." Morgan started, rolling his eyes.

"Not this time. By the way, has Reid already arrived?"

Elle glanced around and shrugged.

"I don’t see him. Besides, if he were here, he’d already be telling us everything about the weather conditions in Alaska."

"Strange," Derek muttered under his breath. "I can’t remember the last time he was late."

You fixed your gaze on your shoes, as if there was something fascinating about them.

"It’s not like him," JJ agreed, a little worried. "Maybe I should call him..."

"He’s definitely stuck in traffic," you interjected quickly, forcing yourself to sound casual, though you tensed up involuntarily. The thought of confronting Spencer slightly scared you, though you wouldn't admit it to yourself. "I’m almost 100% sure. Anyway, shouldn’t we be heading out?"

You changed the subject, nodding toward the exit with your chin. And then, by accident, you made eye contact with Elle.

Elle, who knew you better than anyone.

Elle, who always, always knew when you were lying or hiding something. And whose eyes widened when she realized.

Feeling the blood rush to your ears, you subtly shook your head, silently pleading for her not to speak. But she, to your horror, opened her mouth.

"You two, go ahead," she directed at Morgan and JJ. Then she fixed her intense, demanding gaze directly on you. "We’ll join you in a minute. I need to have a word with our girl, privately."

Barely were you alone when she exclaimed:

"Did you sleep with Reid?!"

"Goddammit, Elle, could you say it any louder?" you hissed, glancing toward the door where your colleagues had just disappeared moments ago.

"Why not? So, you had sex with Dr. Spencer Reid...!"

"FOR GOD'S SAKE..."

"...our genius boy and a member of the same team?!"

"I’m fucking sure even Strauss heard that in her office," you sighed. "But yes, I did it, I regret it, and most importantly, this has to stay between us. Not a word to Derek, JJ, or Penelope, understood?"

To your surprise, Elle burst into laughter and raised her hands in a defensive gesture.

"You know I wouldn’t tell anyone without your permission. I was just playing around Anyway..." she sighed. "I find it hard to believe. You two? Honestly, there’s always been something between you…”

"No," you interrupted her sharply. The words left a ringing in your head. "There was nothing between us."

"So, you decided to sleep together just like that, out of boredom?"

"We need to go, Elle. The rest is probably waiting for us."

You moved forward, your friend trailing right behind you, like that little voice in the back of your mind urging you to order pizza at midnight.

"Oh, one more thing. You said you regret it. So, what, our genius didn’t meet your expectations..."

"End of discussion..."

"Last thing, you told me not to mention it to Garcia, Morgan, or JJ. What about Hotch? Can I tell him?"

You couldn’t keep up the seriousness any longer and burst into laughter, joined by Elle.

"Tell me what?" a voice called from behind you.

Fuck multiplied by twelve thousand seventy-nine.

Somehow, your boss appeared in the same hallway, probably heading to the same room where you were going to be briefed on your next case. You noticed how all the amusement disappeared from Elle’s face. You both exchanged a look, like teenagers caught smoking a cigarette by their parents.

You both turned, silently negotiating through eye contact—arguing, really, over who should speak up and save the situation. It fell to you.

"Um... we were wondering... if we should tell you... that we absolutely love your tie. It's so... red and... long..." It was only then that you noticed it was a gray tie. "Not that one. Another one. Absolutely stunning. And I’m actually looking for a birthday gift for a friend. He’s... a huge fan of... ties."

You tried not to look at Elle, fearing she might burst into laughter. She already seemed like she was suffocating inside. Improvisation was never your strong suit; you always had to say too much.

"So, I hope you don’t mind me asking where you bought it. That’s exactly the kind of tie I’m looking for. Red..." You bit your tongue before you could say long again. "Good quality. One that you’d just want to untie..."

Hotch’s completely stoic expression didn’t help.

"Oh." Suddenly, you realized you hadn’t even greeted him. "Good morning, boss. Are you having a good day?"

"Average," he replied, completely ignoring your whole tie spiel.

Silence fell. Elle stared at the floor, and the corners of her mouth twitched dangerously.

"Let’s get to work," Hotch suggested, clearing his throat. He extended his hand, gesturing for you to go ahead. As soon as you turned, you squeezed your eyes shut in embarrassment. "I got it from Hailey," he spoke to you in a quieter tone, opening the door to the room where the rest of the team was already gathered. "But if you really care, I can ask her where she bought it."

Sometimes you had a hard time figuring out if the guy was serious or just messing with you.

"I’d be greatly appreciative," you managed to say, quickly passing him and taking a seat at the long table.

You heard Elle whispering to Morgan something that started with "You won’t believe this…” and contained a combination of the words red, long, and untie.

Actually, saying that all the team members were inside wasn’t entirely true. One of them was missing.

"Reid’s late?" Penelope wondered, just as your gaze fell on his empty seat.

"Let’s start without him," Hotch decided. "This can’t wait. JJ?"

She handed out the case files to everyone and moved to the screen, where the most important details and photos related to the case were being displayed.  Before he could even say a word, a late Spencer burst into the room.

"Sorry, really, sorry..." he said frantically. "I know this never happens, but I overslept..."

He stopped mid-sentence as soon as his eyes met yours. It felt like he might as well have shouted, Hey, you know we had sex last night? and it would have been less suggestive. Or maybe it was just your inner paranoid voice talking.

"You could’ve informed us you’d be late," Hotch said.

Reid was still desperately trying to catch your eye, even though you were determinedly focusing on everything except him. It wasn’t until a moment later that he realized Hotch had said something to him, and he sighed in surprise, snapping back to reality.

"Oh... yeah, I should have. Definitely. Actually... I actually sent a message to y/n."

At that moment, all eyes turned to you. You furrowed your brow. There was no way he had written or called you — you would have heard it… which, of course, didn’t mean you would have replied. Your hand went to your pocket…

"I forgot my phone."

Only then did you look at Reid, your expression should have given him the message you intended. I left my phone at your place...

“I’ll look for it for you,” he offered. He immediately panicked, probably realizing that you'd rather keep your night together a secret. “I mean, I’ll help you look for it. If you want…”

“Reid, please, sit down,” Hotch stopped him from completely humiliating both of you. At that point, you had a burning desire to bang your head on the table. “And close the door.”

“Right…”

He followed the order and took a seat next to JJ, across from you, sending a small, uncertain smile. You didn’t react, your face remained unreadable, even irritated by how much he was giving away about what had happened between you.

Still, seeing his slightly wrinkled shirt, the same one he wore the previous evening when he opened the door for you, you couldn’t help but let your mind wander. Those small imperfections in the fabric were, of course, from how hastily you had removed it and tossed it to the floor, where it had stayed all night…

The first time you had met outside of work, as two ordinary friends and not colleagues, was a few weeks ago. You had to drop by his place in the evening to pick up some documents you needed for the next day at work.

“Thank god,” you sighed as the door opened. “Elle isn’t picking up at all. I have no idea what she’s doing or where she is, and I seriously need this. If I don’t bring it, I can pretty much say goodbye to BAU.”

Only then did you lift your gaze to the man standing in front of you, too absorbed in your panic over the missing papers to actually take a good look at him. One hand rested on the doorframe, dressed in a sweater vest with the collar of a shirt peeking out beneath it.

“I’m glad I could help,” he replied. Thin-framed glasses rested on his nose, which he only wore occasionally for work. It was a shame because they suited him well. “But I’m sure Hotch wouldn’t throw you out just for being one day late.”

“I’ve been putting it off for three weeks.”

“That definitely changes things. Are you coming in? I need to... check if I have everything. “I’m really sorry, but you actually called just a moment ago and I didn’t manage to…”

“Don’t worry about it,” you waved a hand reassuringly. “I should’ve reached out earlier and not bothered you at this hour. But since you’re inviting me, I’m coming in. I’ve never been to your place before.”

“You’re not bothering me at all,” he assured you as you both walked further into the apartment. The lighting was dim, creating a cozy and relaxed atmosphere.

You stopped in the living room when a familiar sound reached your ears—a melody you knew all too well. Without a second thought, you followed it to its source.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you huffed in surprise, coming to a halt in front of the glowing TV screen, its bright light cutting through the dim surroundings.

“What?” Spencer finally noticed you had wandered off and joined you a minute later. “Oh, sorry. I was watching it earlier and forgot to turn it off…”

“No!” You stopped him before he could reach for the remote. “Don’t you dare. History’s Mysteries is my favorite show.”

Spencer looked at you as though he expected you to burst into laughter any second and admit you were joking. But no, you genuinely, wholeheartedly loved that program. Especially the episodes about extraterrestrial life—deep down, you’d always been a bit of a nerd.

You crossed your arms over your chest, pretending to be annoyed.

“What?” you challenged, raising an eyebrow. “You think just because I’m hot, I can’t have any intellectual interests?”

He widened his eyes, shaking his head.

"Don't put those words in my mouth. I’d never say—or even think—something like that."

"That I’m hot?"

"No! What? I mean… I wouldn’t assume you couldn’t have intellectual interests just because you’re…"

"Hot," you finished for him, letting out a laugh. "Relax, Reid, I’m just messing with you. By the way, you have a really nice apartment. Honestly, I kind of expected, I don’t know, a lab or something."

"Well, so far, you’ve only seen the living room," he replied.

"And I'd love to see the rest of it," you announced, rocking slightly on your heels. "But I haven't seen this episode yet, and I'm very curious about what it's about."

You noticed him hesitate, clearly unsure how to respond.

"Unless, of course, you don’t want me to stay. Maybe you're expecting someone. A girl or a guy?"

"No, no, I’m not expecting anyone," he replied quickly, swallowing nervously. A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth—barely noticeable, but it was there. "You’re absolutely not bothering me. Actually, it’ll be... it’ll be nice to have you stay. But, um... the documents. I should—I'll go get those ready for you. Would you like something to drink?"

 "...Four bodies were retrieved from a hole in the ice of a completely frozen lake. All the victims were young girls, aged thirteen to nineteen and each of them was involved in prostitution."

You were brought back to reality by JJ's words. You felt someone's gaze on you, surprisingly not from the direction you had expected. It was Gideon, and you were sure he had noticed the strange tension between you and Spencer. That was likely the reason behind his scrutiny. You had always thought he was a solid guy, but at times, he scared you. He looked at people as if he could see their original sin, not just theirs, but also that of five generations back in their family.

You shuddered, but for another reason. The subject... frozen lake, bodies pulled out... even though so many years had passed, and you could barely remember the event, the chill still crept down your spine, and your heart raced like you were running away.

"Wait a minute," Derek said, furrowing his brow thoughtfully. "How thick could the ice be on that lake?"

"Given the current almost extreme temperatures, probably around 50 inches. That's thick enough for even cars to move safely on it," Reid explained without hesitation.

You sighed, trying to hide a fleeting smile. You just... sounded like a fetishist, but you couldn't deny that it was a little exciting when he did that. He delivered long, flawless explanations, all while looking genuinely fascinated by the topic. It didn't matter what you were talking about.

Elle raised an eyebrow. You decided to ignore her.

 “Doesn’t it make you wonder how he managed to cut a hole in the lake, in such thick ice, without anyone noticing?” Morgan continued.

 “Actually, he didn’t have to do it personally,” Reid replied again. He took off his glasses and thoughtfully turned them in his hands. “Under different weather conditions, we might consider that, but these were most likely holes made for other purposes. Fishing, mostly, but also to test if the ice can support vehicles, for example. The unsub could have simply shown up, discarded the body, and that’s it.”

You all started the discussion on the topic without your input. You should have stayed focused, but you couldn't help but keep glancing back at his long fingers, holding the glasses...his touch so delicate and skilled…

The door opened once again, just like every Sunday, when the two of you caught up on the weekly episode of the show. After you stayed over at his place once to watch it together, it simply became a tradition. An unspoken one.

With each meeting, you talked less and less about work. It was still kept in a purely friendly atmosphere—otherwise, you wouldn't have shown up. You weren't looking for a committed relationship, but lately, the usual physicality wasn't enough, and you needed a new conversation partner on a deeper level. The range of your topics was vast, from casual chatter to deep analyses of the content you watched (you could talk for hours about conspiracy theories), or serious yet comforting conversations about life and the world.

"Where's my pillow?" you asked, pointing to the spot on the left side of the couch where you always sat.

"I spilled coffee on it, by accident. It's in the laundry. Sorry."

"Did you really just apologize for taking your pillow from your own apartment?"

"Sorry, It’s just my thing”

You both burst out laughing, sitting side by side on the couch.

"I miss something to rest my head on," you complained after just a minute. "I’ve got neck pain from sleeping on the jet."

"So, you should definitely sleep on a flat surface," he teased. "See, I took the pillow out of concern for you."

"Ladies and gentlemen, Spencer Reid before you. The man who will always find a scientific reason to make your life harder. Maybe I should just sleep on a bed of nails instead of a mattress, huh?"

“I just suggested a slightly flatter surface! Where did the nails come from?”

“That’s the same to me. I need softness.”

Spencer shook his head.

“I can bring you a pillow from my bedroom.”

“The episode is starting.”

“I’ll be back in a second…”

“Oh, and then you’ll complain you can’t talk about the plot because you missed the first minute, and so much probably happened,” you stopped him from getting up, grabbing his wrist. “Sit. I’ll survive the neck pain. Or… or I’ll just lie down here.”

Saying this, you simply rested your head on his lap, settling comfortably on your side.

 “What did the autopsy reveal?” Elle asked. “Did the victims die from drowning, or were their bodies just dumped in the water with a different cause of death?”

You should have focused on the case at hand, but you couldn’t shake the discomfort this topic caused you. No wonder your thoughts kept straying to more pleasant places as you tried to distance yourself from it. Still, you read through the case files, knowing you had to stay focused to solve this. Lives depended on it.

“They were all alive when they were thrown into the water,” JJ said with tightly pressed lips. “And each of them suffered a heavy blow to the head.”

“That’s how he abducts them,” Derek summarized. “Knocks them unconscious with a strong hit. Maybe he pretends to be a client, and once they leave with him, he strikes.”

“The question is, why specifically the lake’s ice hole?” you mused, tapping your nails on the table in an anxious gesture. “Is it purely practical? Did he think it was the easiest place to dispose of the bodies?”

You couldn’t take your eyes off the photos of the drowning victims—it felt like self-inflicted torture. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Reid staring at you differently than before. Once, you’d told him a story about something that happened to you as a child, more like a casual anecdote than a heartfelt confession. Even so, you thought you saw some worry etched on his face.

For the first time since he walked through the door, you met his eyes directly, responding to his desperate attempts to catch your gaze. Surprised that you finally looked at him, he froze, his slightly parted lips emitting a short sound as if he wanted to say something but forgot what it was at the last second.

"No... I don't think so," he finally said, drawing out the syllables absentmindedly. The slight furrow in his brow suggested he was deep in thought. "Bathing in water symbolizes cleansing from sin in many religions, both physically and spiritually. For example, in Christianity, baptism washes away original sin. Prostitutes are often the targets of serial killers who believe they’re purging society in some way. Since we’ve ruled out a sexual motive, maybe this is where we should focus our attention."

"That’s a good lead," Hotch agreed, as the rest of the team considered the analysis in silence. "In that case, we’re likely dealing with a religious fanatic. Such perpetrators often believe they’re acting in the name of God or some higher good. Worse still, they see their actions as morally justified, which means they feel no remorse."

"And that, in turn, means they won’t stop killing until they’re caught," Gideon concluded.

"Then there will soon be another victim. We need to move now," your boss decided, quickly straightening his papers against the table before tucking them into his briefcase. "See you on the jet in fifteen minutes."

Throughout the meeting, you'd laid out the victims' photos in front of you, studying them closely. Preoccupied with gathering them up, you could hear everyone heading toward the door, convinced you'd been left alone in the room.

But when you looked up, you found yourself face-to-face with none other than Reid. Your breath hitched for a moment. You knew this confrontation was inevitable, but you'd worked so hard to push the thought of it away…

"Hey," he greeted with a small smile on his lips. He seemed almost excited about the conversation. "I just wanted…to ask how you're doing."

You shrugged, forcing indifference.

"Fine, I guess."

You finished sliding the photos back into the case file, closed it, and pressed it to your chest.

"We should get going. Hotch gave us fifteen minutes, but the sooner we leave, the better..."

"You don't even want to talk to me?" he asked unexpectedly, shaking his head slightly in genuine disbelief. He swallowed hard and added, "About last night?"

You squeezed your eyes shut for a moment. You hated this—hated it with every fiber of your being. That awful moment when you had to tell someone you'd spent the night with that it didn’t mean anything to you, that you didn’t want to keep seeing them, let alone get involved. And it was so much worse this time. This wasn’t some random guy. This was Spencer—your friend, someone you genuinely cared about, whose friendship you couldn’t afford to lose, especially since you worked together.

Your body was conditioned to run, to escape. Waking up in someone else’s bed always signaled an immediate sprint to the finish line. But this time, it felt like you’d tripped over an untied shoelace barely a meter in.

"There’s nothing to talk about," you replied. The strange tension of being in the same room with him again, just the two of you in this small space—so much like last night—settled over you. "Actually, wait. There is. I think I left my phone at your place, though it might’ve fallen somewhere in the car. Could you look for it when we get back?"

He didn’t respond. You weren’t sure why, but you kept your gaze fixed anywhere but on him—his shirt, the space behind him, anything to avoid his eyes. Maybe that was the problem. Maybe you should look directly at him, let your words carry the weight they were supposed to.

Spencer suddenly let out a short, sharp laugh, filled with shock and maybe even… sarcasm?

"Did it really mean so little to you that you can't even look at me?"

You gave in and lifted your gaze. His head tilted slightly to the side, his brow furrowed. He looked somehow hurt even though hurt seemed too strong a word.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean how you disappeared this morning. I thought maybe you were in a rush or didn’t want to wake me, but when I got there, you barely even looked at me. Sorry—actually, you looked at me only once”

"What did you expect, that I’d throw myself at you and kiss you?"

"No, I expected that we’d talk about it like normal people."

"But there’s nothing to talk about. It happened, and that’s it. I don’t see any reason we should have to debate about it..."

Spencer wasn’t angry, like others might have been. He was simply stunned.

"I don’t understand this," he finally confessed, adjusting his glasses on his nose. It was as if they suddenly became a bother, so he adjusted them again, then, after a moment of hesitation, took them off. "Do you regret what happened?"

“No,” you answered quickly, it was the first honest thought that came to your mind. You pinched the bridge of your nose, unable to find the right words. “Well… I don’t regret it in the way you might think. It’s just… I’m not sure what you expect from me now. We spent one night together, it was amazing, but I don’t have anything more to offer you.”

“I don’t want you to offer me anything,” he said, irritation beginning to creep into his voice, though it didn’t seem to be directed at you. “The only thing I want is… to understand where we stand now. Look, we’ve been spending a lot of time together lately, I thought you liked me…”

“Because I do like you,” you interrupted him mid-sentence. "Let me be honest with you, Reid. I don’t do relationships. And just so you know, I don’t usually sleep with my friends either, but it happened, and I can’t undo it, nor would I want to. Because I enjoyed it, I like you, and I have a great time when I’m with you. And up until now, I’ve really enjoyed how things have been between us. I don’t want anything to change."

You summed up what had been weighing on your heart, hoping with all sincerity that he’d understand. Spencer leaned his hands on the back of an empty chair, turning his body slightly toward you.

"So," he said, letting out something between a chuckle and a pained sigh. "Maybe you shouldn’t have gone to bed with me."

"Listen, sex doesn’t mean anything. It’s just a physical act, it doesn’t affect our friendship in any way."

 "Do you really believe that?"

“Yes, I do,” you insisted stubbornly, refusing to let yourself even blink. Spencer turned his face toward you, looking for signs of a lie or uncertainty in your expression.

He wouldn’t have been able to find any, even if he tried with all his might. Because you were a brilliant actress. And it wasn’t that you hid your feelings so well. It was more that everything about you was so contradictory that it created a whole range of possible interpretations. And Spencer, with his deeply rooted need to hurt himself and test his own worth, chose to settle on the one that would guarantee him that.

“Well, good for you,” he finally replied, before leaving the room completely, not even turning back over his shoulder.

For a moment, you stood in silence, unable to identify what you were actually feeling. In truth, your earlier words had been honest. You cared about your friendship, the connection, the conversations, and the time spent together. But at the same time, you couldn’t deny that he simply attracted you. Just yesterday, you had convinced yourself it was probably just curiosity. Sometimes people wonder what it would be like to try something with a friend, they do it, and then all those similar thoughts fade away.

But was it the same for you two?

Your head and shoulders had been resting on his lap for a while, your cheek comfortably pressed against his thigh, and the glow of the TV occasionally lit up your focused face when something brighter appeared on the screen.

Spender seemed tense about the position for just a minute, then, for the next five, he was simply surprised. Although you focused your attention on the program, you could feel his gaze falling on your figure from time to time, stopping on it for a moment. After ten minutes, you were both lying comfortably, with mutual ease, and after an unknown amount of time, one of his hands was resting on your side.

Every now and then, you spoke to each other, exchanging short, often sarcastic comments about the episode. During one of these interactions, something caught your attention.

"Where are your glasses?" you asked. You turned onto your back, resting the back of your head on his lap instead of your temple and cheek.

You could look up at him from that amusing, lower perspective, from which everyone looks particularly unflattering. You smiled at his expression when he tilted his head to look at you.

"Oh, I have them here," he replied, lifting the glasses he must have set on the couch.

"But why aren’t you wearing them?" You could swear that when you started watching, they were on his nose. You had noticed because you really liked how he looked in them.

He shrugged.

"You’re straining your eyes. Put them on," you asked.

Spencer moved his hand as if he wanted to reach for them, but at the last moment, he hesitated.

"I... I don’t exactly like how I look in them," he finally confessed.

After those words, you stared at the ceiling for a moment, then pushed yourself up on your elbow, almost aggressively. His eyebrows shot up at that.

"You must be joking."

"What?"

"I said, you must be joking. You look great in them. They really suit you," you assured him, sitting up. "You know, when I was a teenager, I always wanted to wear glasses. I even envied the girls with poor eyesight."

"You know, I’m fully aware you’re saying this just to get me to wear them?"

"True, you got me. Did it work?"

"Not really."

You bit your lower lip, thoughtfully considering a certain idea.

"Okay, give them to me for a moment," you asked, extending your hand. "I’ll tell you something that will convince you to wear them. From now on, you’ll even sleep in them. Well, maybe especially sleep in them."

He tilted his head, trying for a moment to read your intentions from your face, but he couldn’t. He sighed and handed you the glasses.

"Don’t..."

"Don’t grab them by the lenses, I know that," you finished, rolling your eyes. "I’m not some animal."

With his glasses in hand, you changed your position on the couch, kneeling so that you were more or less facing each other.

"I’m waiting for your arguments," he said, his voice sly, to which you raised an eyebrow.

"Well, this will be an argument combined with a little presentation," you clarified. "Have you ever heard of the glasses theory?"

"Is that an actual concept in human psychology, or something you just made up? If it’s the latter, I’m afraid I haven’t”

Listen, it’s very simple, but you’d better focus on me," you demanded, ignoring his previous remark.

"I’m focused."

Indeed, he was. His gaze was fixed on you with such intensity and engagement, as if you were about to deliver a speech that could change the fate of the universe. Or maybe it just seemed that way because you were so close to each other.

"Forgive me for the unacademic language, Doctor, but I don’t like to complicate things too much. This theory says that with glasses, you can only look one of two ways: smart or hot."

Spencer had already chuckled, ready to jump in with a sarcastic comment, but you pressed your finger to his lips, moving even closer.

"Don’t interrupt me for now, I’m not done yet. This theory also says that your look in glasses will always be the opposite of your usual, everyday look. So, if without them you look like the typical intellectual who knows the meaning of every word in the dictionary, then in them…" You paused, tilting your head to the side. Up until now, your finger had been resting on his lips, which it had landed on by chance, but you couldn’t stop yourself from trailing it along his chin and jawline. He didn’t take his eyes off you, which only made it harder to stop. "In them, you look really, really attractive. Like, you know, sexually attractive”

You felt his chest rise. You felt it because one of your hands was resting on it as you sat on his lap, though you had no idea how you had ended up there. Spencer had been entirely focused on your face until now-on your speaking lips, not on how your bodies were positioned in relation to each other. He exhaled, loudly, far too loudly for comfort, the breath he'd been holding in. The sound escaped as you settled your full weight on his lap instead of just hovering above it.

“Do you really mean that?”

Yes, you wanted to respond briefly, right into his ear.

“That’s the theory. And I… I agree with it. I even have another example. You won’t deny that I’m hot, right? It’s just something people think when they see me. A statement of fact. So… when I put on glasses…” Saying this, you slid his glasses onto your own nose. Your entire field of vision blurred slightly, making it hard to see his reaction. You could only feel how his body responded..“Well? How do I look?”

He didn’t answer. His breathing grew deeper, his pulse quicker. You knew this because your hand, which had been exploring every corner of his face, had already made its way to his neck and decided to stay there for a while.

“Spencer,” you prompted, “I asked how I look.”

He lowered his head, the top of it brushing against your sternum, lingering there for a moment. When he straightened again, his eyes were in constant flux, like those of someone torn by too many desires at once.

“Smart,” he replied, his voice barely audible, the word catching in his throat. “Now you look really smart.”

You shifted higher on his lap, drawn to him by the pull of his voice.

“Smart,” you repeated with a laugh, your tone edging toward a whisper, slipping between the two of you and filling the small space like liquid poured into a vessel. “That confirms the theo—…”

You broke off when his lips finally surged toward yours, impatient and pushed to the very edge of restraint. His jaw pressed against yours, forcing your entire body to tilt back. You swayed on his lap, both of his hands falling tou your hips, his fingertips pressing firlmy into your skin to hold your body at the same place, right next to him, close, closer. 

The kiss, born of desperation, quickly transformed into the release of a long-hidden hunger shared by you both. It was equal on every level, matched in intensity and force.

In the midst of it all, you lost your breath, repeatedly pulling your lips away from his to gasp for air, only to reconnect moments later. One of those brief pauses drew a wretched, urging whimper from him.

It was around then that you felt the pressure, growing stronger against your core.

An involuntary smile spread across your lips, breaking the kiss, during which you briefly took control, tilting his neck back for better access. Pulling away by barely an inch, you managed to notice that his barely open eyelids were still fixed on your lips, glistening with saliva and flushed with desire.

“Spencer? What is it? “

After asking that question you pressed yourself to his hips, pointing to the obvious hardness. His eyes widened, as if all the previous actions had taken place far beyond his body, to which he had only just returned. He inhaled sharply, his fingers gripping your body firmly and decisively as if trying to slide you off his lap. Something in the intensity of his touch and his attempt to take control only made you cling to him more.

“Didn’t expect you to be that hard after a kiss, but maybe it’s my fault” You muttered a joke under your breath, your lips briefly marking the space along his jawline, chin, and finally his lips. In the meantime, while one of your hands remained firmly on his neck, the other decisively reached its target. Then, griped it through the fabric of his pants. His lips parted, b loout no sound came out; it seemed to have been swallowed by his surprise. “Do you want me to take care of it?”

Your hand remained still, waiting for an answer. At first, he was silent, focused on his own breathing, not looking at your face, which you found quite unsettling.

"Spencer, I want you to answer me."

When he hesitated again, you gently brushed your lips against the lobe of his ear. But before you could repeat your request, he unexpectedly pulled both of you to the side, positioning you beneath him.

You gasped, surprised by the shift in dynamics.

“I want this” he whimpered into your ear, covering it with his mouth along with the space around it. “I really, really want this, please…”

But was it the same for you two? 

You repeated the question in your mind and recalled how, arched like a bow, you placed the glasses on his face, wanting to see him wear them as he made you come. 

You stood there in the empty room, replaying that moment in your head, well aware that you should join the rest of the team, but not so sure about the answer 

*

"Please don’t tell me that those fifteen minutes when you were alone..."

"Disgusting, Elle, you’re just disgusting."

Your friend, sitting across from you on the jet, smiled as if you’d just given her a compliment. The rest of the team either engaged in conversation with each other or reviewed the case files once more, looking for new clues. Reid belonged to the latter group, though his absent expression didn’t suggest he was deep in thought about the case. But you made an effort not to look at him, feeling a bit guilty for how things had unfolded.

"What exactly did you tell him?"

"That I don’t date and I’m not looking for anything serious."

"You just told him that?"

"What was I supposed to do, draw him a picture?"

"It’s not about that, it’s just..." Elle hesitated, unsure of what she wanted to say. She didn’t seem as cheerful as before. "I guess you didn’t say it that directly, right? Don’t get me wrong, but it’s kind of... cruel."

Her gaze briefly shifted toward the subject of your conversation, looking concerned.

"Would you have come to that conclusion if it were any other guy you didn’t know?"

She sighed.

"Probably not, and that’s why I think I’m having some sort of moral crisis."

You fell into a bit of an unpleasant mood for the rest of the flight. Unsure of what else to do, you decided to think a bit about the case and the murders. You even came to a conclusion and were about to stand up to discuss it when it hit you that you wanted your conversation partner to be...Reid. You sighed and stopped halfway, not knowing if he was ready to talk to you again.

Soon enough, you arrived in the small town where the murders had taken place. Naturally, you headed straight to the site where the bodies were discovered. Bundled up in thick down jackets, the crunch of deep snow underfoot accompanied your every step. You busied yourself talking to the local police, deliberately keeping your distance from the lake. The vast expanse of frozen water seemed to glare at you, challenging and mocking, as though daring you to come and play. Every glance at the ice awakened an inexplicable urge to sprint to its center, to feel the chills coursing through your body and surrender to a reckless exhilaration.

Rain drummed against the bridge like a barrage of tiny bullets, sharp and unrelenting, as if determined to pierce straight through you. You stood huddled beneath an umbrella with Reid, but both of you were already soaked to the bone, shivering from the relentless cold.

“Where the hell are they?” you asked through chattering teeth.

As part of your investigation, you and Reid had been sent to a nearby high school to interview the teachers of a missing teenager. The rest of the team had been assigned different tasks, and someone was supposed to pick you up at the agreed-upon spot and time so you could regroup and share your findings. But the wait was dragging on far longer than expected.

“I’d just like to remind you that you laughed at me when I took this umbrella, saying there wasn’t a single cloud in the sky and it definitely wouldn’t rain,” Spencer remarked, switching the umbrella from his red, cold hand to the other one he had been keeping warm in his coat pocket.

You looked at him with envy. Your jacket didn’t even have pockets, and you started wondering why you’d even bought it in the first place.

“This is not the time to point fingers at me,” you retorted. “This is the time to make sure I don’t die of hypothermia. Come closer. And don’t stand so close to the railing.”

“We’re nearly two meters away from it,” he pointed out, but still followed your request and stepped forward. You took the opportunity to shove your hands into his coat pockets for even a momentary bit of warmth. His coat smelled like rain, and your nose accidentally brushed against it. Your hands touched his in one of the pockets.

“Jesus, it’s like touching an ice cube,” he muttered.

“You still have feeling in your hands?”

“Still do, but I’m afraid it’s only a matter of time,” he replied.

“They’ll freeze and have to be amputated. We’ll be the only two handless FBI agents. Hotch will never send us on an assignment together again,” you joked.

He chuckled softly and shifted the umbrella to his other hand once again. For a moment, you both stood in silence—him staring at the river flowing beneath the bridge, and you gazing toward the direction where you hoped your rescue would arrive.

“Can I ask you a question?” he broke the silence, looking down at you.

You were standing so close, your hands buried in his coat pockets, that you had to tilt your head back significantly to meet his gaze.

“Sure, go ahead.”

“Are you afraid of water?”

You stared at his face, taken aback by the question. His wet hair was plastered to his forehead, and for some inexplicable reason, you felt a sudden urge to push it back.

“Why do you ask?”

He shrugged.

“It’s just something I noticed today—though, of course, there’s a possibility I’m wrong. But we’ve been standing on this bridge for twenty minutes, and you haven’t looked down once. And you keep telling me to step away from the railing.”

“I’m just looking out for your safety, klutz,” you teased, lowering your gaze. He wasn’t wrong about the water, and it surprised you that he had even picked up on it.

“When I was six, I almost drowned in frigid water,” you admitted, the words spilling out before you could stop them.

Spencer’s brows furrowed with concern.

“At least, that’s what I’ve been told,” you added before he could say anything. “Apparently, my dad took me and my sisters to a lake to go ice skating. He used to go there as a kid with his siblings, and the ice was always thick enough that no one even considered it might break. But that was twenty years earlier. He didn’t account for climate change. The ice cracked right beneath me.”

“God,” he sighed. “You know… maybe it’s for the better that you don’t remember it. At least not exactly.”

 “Maybe. Apparently, I spent the next two weeks in the hospital with pneumonia, but I don’t have a single memory of that. Still, it doesn’t change the fact that I shudder at the mere sound of water.”

 “Your body must remember what your mind suppressed. But wait, didn’t you have to pass a swimming test to get into the FBI?”

 “I did. But it was in a pool, where the water was calm and not trying to kill me. Hey, do you see that car? Isn’t that for us?”

After a few hours, you began to appreciate living in a state where winters were mild. Your hands were even colder than they had been that time on the bridge, despite wearing leather gloves. The hood over your head muffled the sounds around you so much that the first time Hotch called your name, you didn’t even hear him. You only approached him when you noticed him waving in your direction.

Something in his expression made you quicken your pace.

“We have the unsub’s identity,” he said before you could open your mouth to ask what had happened.

The rest of the team had already gathered. Reid’s cheeks were red from the cold, and he wasn’t wearing his glasses. He wasn’t looking at you, so you avoided looking at him.

“What?” you blurted, surprised. “How?”

“He abducted another victim, but this time he wasn’t as careful, and one of the cameras caught him. Using the footage, Penelope tracked down his information. She also found out that he came from a very poor family, and his sister turned to prostitution at the age of fourteen to support both of them.”

“I don’t understand. Then why does he kill young girls, just like his sister, who sacrificed herself for their survival?” Elle asked, suddenly appearing behind you.

Her question echoed in your mind.

“He thinks that by drowning them in freezing water, he cleanses them of the sin of prostitution—a sin he believes was unjustly forced upon them because of poverty,” you said suddenly, the chill biting into your body far more sharply than before.

“The unsub might even think he’s doing them a favor,” Reid added, animated, picking up your line of thought. “That he’s their savior, granting them a departure free of that sin.”

His eyes met yours, a flicker of admiration glinting in them. But then, as if reminded of everything, he quickly looked away. You felt like sighing. So this is how every single one of your interactions was going to look from now on?

“We need to catch him before he drowns another victim. We don’t have much time; it’s getting dark,” Hotch issued commands quickly. “Gideon, me, JJ, and Elle will head to one lake, Morgan, Y/N, and…”

“I should go with you,” Reid interrupted. “Elle can go with Morgan, and…”

“This is not up for discussion,” Hotch replied in a firm tone, a flicker of surprise crossing not just his face but everyone’s. When it came to time, his decisions were final. You all knew that. "Go," He commanded, his voice leaving no room for argument.

Before you knew it, you were in the speeding car. The tension and sense of mission always left you silent, focused, and most of all, determined.

“He’s here. Do you see him? He’s dragging her toward the hole in the ice!”

Throughout all of it, not once did it cross your mind—the obvious fact that you’d have to set foot on the frozen lake. Before you even had a chance to react or fully realize it, Reid unexpectedly grabbed your sleeve, pulling you toward him. He seemed surprised by his own action, his eyes darting with adrenaline across your face.

“The ice won’t break, do you understand?” he said, not letting go of your arm. “It’s thick enough that cars can drive on it. “It’s safe, trust me. And if you feel like you can’t do it, just stay behind,” 

His voice was surprisingly steady, offering a sense of comfort that you hadn’t expected. You listened, almost stunned, not just by the care in his advice, but also by the fact that he was even speaking to you at all.

You didn’t have time to respond or even nod; the car came to a stop, and every second counted. Somewhere deep inside, though, you felt a surge of gratitude for his gesture and words. Because as soon as you set foot on the ice, it was as though your senses vanished. All that mattered was the water—cold, sinister, and waiting for you deep beneath the blue surface.

Morgan and Reid moved ahead of you, with the latter turning his head over his shoulder. You saw it, even as the darkness quickly closed in around you.

“If you feel like you can’t do it, just stay behind,” echoed in your mind.

But you couldn’t just stand there and watch while the victim’s life was hanging by a thread. Focusing entirely on his words and voice, you moved forward, gripping your weapon tightly, yet with a steady hand.

And it was your shot, fired in a moment of desperate resolve, that brought the unsub down, giving Morgan the chance to catch the unconscious victim in his arms and rush her to the shore as quickly as possible.

You stood there, breathless, still holding the gun high, completely unaware of it until someone gently touched your hands, guiding them downward.

“It’s me,” Reid said quietly as you flinched. Only then did it start to sink in that you were standing on the ice. Your imagination began to feed you the feeling of the bone-chilling cold, the water pressing against your body with all its might. After all these years, still so vivid. You grabbed onto his arms tightly, your legs suddenly slipping beneath you. Why hadn’t they slipped before?

“Hey, careful. The ice is thick, remember? It won’t break,” he reassured you.

He held you tightly, offering you support as you both made your way to the shore, taking small, uncertain steps. You could barely breathe, let alone speak. Yet, a question loomed in your mind, one you were desperate to ask: why was he even still with you? Why hadn’t he just left you there, maybe for some internal satisfaction? 

Finally, you were on solid ground, no longer gripped by panic. Still, your breath was rapid, every cell in your body shaking in spasms, but not in that teasing, playful way it had when you played the role of the bolter. 

“Why did you do it?” you asked, still holding onto him like a lifeline. “I thought you were mad at me.”

Before answering, Reid studied you in silence for a moment.

“I could be furious with you, but I wouldn’t leave you there, alone and scared,” he said.

You opened your mouth, a warmth spreading across your chest, something that felt almost like a comforting embrace. But before you could say anything, the rest of the team reached you, with Elle hanging onto your shoulder, her voice full of concern as she asked how you were feeling.

In the darkness and the flood of emotions, his face blurred, along with the faces of the others. You closed your eyes for a moment, surrendering completely.

It was only then that you began to calm down, though it would take many hours before your hands stopped shaking.

*

You nervously paced around the office, two pairs of eyes watching you with clear amusement.

"Do you think he called me in because of that whole tie incident?" you asked, nervously biting one of your nails. "Shit, it’s definitely about that. It was so inappropriate, he’s probably going to fire me."

"Calm down," Derek said to you, the corner of his mouth constantly rising and falling. "First of all, if Hotch were going to fire you for every dumb thing that comes out of your mouth, you'd be gone after a week. Second of all, it probably has nothing to do with that. Knowing you, it’s probably some overdue paperwork..."

"You’re not helping," you said, raising a warning finger.

Elle’s laugh mixed with her yawn.

"God, I’m exhausted from this day. I’m out of here. Call me later and let me know what this was all about," she kissed your cheek as a farewell.

You briefly hugged her with one arm.

"Keep your fingers crossed," you asked them as they walked away.

Both of them raised their hands, making the gesture.

It was evening, and you had just returned to the office after closing the case. You had hoped to head home and sleep off all the emotions from the day, but then you found out that Hotch had called for you. And you had no idea why.

Before opening the door with his name on it, you crossed yourself in your mind.

"Listen, Hotch, about that tie, it was really just some messing around," you blurted out, before even fully stepping inside.

The man sitting at his desk raised an eyebrow. He wasn’t alone—across from him, in a chair, looking like a student called to the principal’s office for punishment, sat Spencer, looking just as confused as you felt.

"Did you want to see me now? Or did I mix up the time or the days...?"

"I wanted to see both of you," he replied, pointing to one of the two chairs next to Reid.

You exchanged a brief glance with your colleague. Since your last interaction on the frozen lake, neither of you had spoken a word, but the atmosphere wasn’t as tense as before. That didn’t, of course, mean that everything between you was back to normal.

"Listen, I’m just as exhausted as you, but I need to have this conversation with you now so we can resolve it as quickly as possible."

You shook your head in confusion.

"Resolve what?" Reid asked.

"Whatever happened between you two," Hotch started seriously, his gaze moving between your faces. "Any argument, I don’t care what it was about or how serious it is, it cannot affect your work or professional relationship in any way."

You couldn’t help it and let out a laugh. You imagined Elle’s expression on the other end of the phone when you’d tell her the real reason behind this summons…

 "Hotch, there was no argument," you assured him, maybe not entirely honestly, but in an attempt to wrap up this somewhat, let's be honest, embarrassing conversation as quickly as possible.

 Spencer nodded enthusiastically.

 "Absolutely none. Never."

 "I'm not blind or, as you’re both well aware, stupid," Hotch continued, his gaze shifting between you both. "I can see what's going on, and I’m telling you now—I don’t want any conflict in my team."

You let out a snort.

 "So what are you going to do?" you asked challengingly. "Force us to shake hands and make up? If we do that now, can we finally go home?"

 He met your gaze, his expression as stoic as ever, but you were certain—absolutely certain—that deep down, he was amused by it all. To your surprise, he suddenly stood up from his desk.

 "No, I'm going to do something more effective," he declared. "I'm leaving you two alone for ten minutes. No one leaves this office. When I come back, everything needs to be settled. Understood?"

"Isn’t this some sort of elementary school method of discipline?" Spencer asked, raising his eyebrows, but out of the corner of your eye, you saw that beneath his amused expression, there was also a hint of concern.

"Exactly how it sounds," you agreed, briefly meeting his gaze before shifting it to your boss with a pleading look. "You're not our father, Hotch. We're adults, stop treating us like children..."

His hand landed on the doorknob without a moment’s hesitation.

 "Then stop acting like children and talk to each other," he said, glancing at his watch. "I’ll be back in ten minutes."

You could’ve sworn there was a subtle smile playing on his face as he left.

 You watched his figure disappear in disbelief.

 And then, you turned to Spencer, who was already staring at you.

[miley1442111]

Hi my love! can you please do something with Spencer getting hurt in a case and baureader is there too and he can't get to her before he blacks out. When he wakes up, he's all 'where's my wife?' and the team are so confused bc, u don't have a wife?

but it turns out he does and she's pregnant?

thank you my lovely!

omg thank you so much for requesting this, it's so cute!

relief- s.reid

a/n: intended for fem reader, but imagine what you like:)))))))))

summary: spencer can't get to you in time, waking up leads to the team finding out about a few things...

pairing: spencer reid x bau reader

warnings: general cm topics, talk of gunshots, wounds, hospitals, very brief mention of spencer's addiction, etc

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Spencer heard the gunshot and his blood ran cold, adrenaline coursing through his body. Where were you?

He ran before he felt the wound in his back and collapsed with a shout. 

“I’m going for the pretty one next,” the unsub whispered in his ear as he stuck a finger into Spencer’s wound. Spencer groaned out in pain as his mind raced. “And I won’t be as nice.”

You were in danger and Spencer couldn’t do a thing to stop it. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Spencer woke up to the darkness of his hospital room, he pulled the IV in his arm and panic set in. He had no idea what they were putting in there, he had no idea how long he’d been out, and he had no idea where you were.

He ripped the IV out of his arm, alerting the nurse outside his door. He could see a figure in the corner of the room sitting from a chair and his heart leapt out of his chest. You were ok? 

“Sir, you need to calm down-” The nurse started, trying to get him back into bed. The lights flickered on and he was deeply disappointed in seeing that it was in fact Aaron in the corner. 

“Where is she?!” Spencer demanded, trying to get the much stronger nurse off of him. 

“Spencer, listen to your nurse,” Aaron instructed. 

“Where is my wife?!” He shouted again. “Where is she, Hotch?” 

Aaron looked at him, a quizzical expression on his face. “I’m not telling you anything unless you sit down.”

Spencer sat down, allowing the very irritated nurse to do his job. “Where is she?”

“Who is your wife?” Aaron asked.

“Y/n! Where is she?” He stressed, running a hand through his overgrown hair. 

“I’m here,” you smiled from the doorway before walking to Spencer’s side. You had some bruising and a broken wrist from your fight with the unsub, but you were nowhere near as bad as Spencer. One of his lungs had collapsed from the gunshot and he’d been out for a few days. “They’re not giving you any narcotics, don't worry. You’ve been out for three days, your lung collapsed, and I think that’s it-”

Spencer reached up and grabbed your face and pulled you down, kissing you passionately, albeit sloppily. You could feel the tears on his cheeks and your heart broke. The last few days had been so touch and go, you were scared Spencer wouldn’t be ok, that he would… You didn’t want to think about it.

“Are you ok?” He asked, pulling away.

“Broken wrist and a few bruises, I’ll be fine,” You smiled, a hand on his cheek. 

“Is the baby ok?” He asked as he placed a hand on your stomach. 

Aaron’s brows creased further as the rest of the team by the door looked in with dropped jaws. 

“She’s fine,” you smiled. “I probably just stressed her out a bit.”

Spencer’s eyes lit up. “She’s a girl?” He practically whispered. 

“Yeah, she’s a girl,” you chuckled as he pulled you closer, a dopey grin on his face as he hugged you and your small bump. 

"You're married?" Aaron asked.

“You’re pregnant?!” Penelope all but screamed from the door. “How did we not notice?” 

You chucked as Spencer just held you close, not even paying attention to the team around you two. 

“Maybe you’re all not as good as you think you are,” Spencer suggested, his head resting between your side and arm. You laughed along with him as the team rolled their eyes, but smiled anyway. 

Spencer had never been so relieved.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

criminal minds masterlist :)

navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, top gun, obx, hunger games, marvel+)

[moon-river-me]

Hii

A recommendation would be that the reader flirts with Spencer and he is very blushing because of it. The team would have fun with it haha.

Have a nice day!! 💖

ok so this is my first fanfic so i would really appreciate feedback(good and bad).

Ties.

fem! BAUreader, awkward spencer reid, sfw. I imagined early seasons spencer but it is non specified.

551 words.

“Did you know that wearing a tie can reduce blood flow to the brain by 7.5 percent?” Ties. That was how this exceedingly embarrassing rant began, you did that thing you do were you randomly compliment spencer; he loves it and hates it at the same time. Which for someone like himself, a logical man who values concrete answers, does not appreciate. Spencer loves problem solving, he has always been an amazing problem solver, when there was an equation, there was an answer, when there was a question, there was an answer, but the random comments that never fail to tinge his cheeks a rose hue, Spencer Reid did not have an answer for that.

By now Spencer realized he has been spitting useless facts about ties for over 3 minutes, which resulted in his face turning an even brighter shade of red.

“Pretty boy, all she said was nice tie,” Derek’s belly laugh could certainly be heard through the entire bullpen. Great, and even bigger crowd for his humiliation.

You giggle, keeping your eyes directly on his, “no no I love your facts spence, as long as you don’t give me a statistic on coffee and its correlation to some unheard-of disease, I will happily listen to you talk.” You add a subtle wink when you finish talking. Spencer’s bashful expression morphed into one of shock.

“You do?” The pure confusion in his voice added to your melodic laugh.

“Of course Spence, it’s the best part of working here.” While light-hearted, he picked up on the truth behind your words, making a shy grin appear on his face. He pushed his glasses up before realising his hair had now fallen Infront of his eyes.

“Here let me,” and before he knew it, your hand was directly in front of his eyes, pushing his hair out of his view. Spencer couldn’t take his gaze away from you. You keep the silent staring contest between you going. You know you will win; you always do.

“Boy genius, you look like a tomato” Penelope states are she strolls past to Derek’s desk.

“Red? I- I am not red its just hot in here.” His voice goes up at least an octave, his hand automatically travels to his cheeks.

“Okay keep telling yourself that Dr Reid,” you whisper the last part so only he could hear. You hand goes and taps his shoulder, keeping it there for a second longer than what could be considered normal, before moving to your desk, which coincidently is directly opposite his.

“I wasn’t lying by the way. Your tie is really nice. Suits you.” You state nonchalantly, as if that sentence didn’t make Spencers stomach swirl and form knots.

“I like yours too! Wait no.” You were not wearing a tie. Great. His utter screw up made you throw your head back laughing, increasing greatly when you looked at his horrified face.

“Thank you, Spence.” Your laugh slowly morphing back into your staple giggle, “maybe I will wear one tomorrow, and then you can mean it.”

“I’m so sorry,” Spencer felt like a puddle on the floor, but the look of admiration in your face made that feeling run for the hills.

“Don’t apologise, it was very cute. you are very cute” You promise him, nodding your head to accentuate your point.

oh. oh.

a/n

ok so sorry this is so bad but feedback would be very very great thanks!! I have some Aaron Hotchner x readers' coming up <3

I did NOT proof read lets pray this makes sense :)

[lustforreid]

Ashamed

pairing: spencer reid x fem!baureader

summary: you and spencer have been secretly dating and no one in the team knows and the two of you wants to keep it that way… or at least one of you.

warnings: insecurity, self-doubting, angst (a little), comfort, fluff. that’s all, I think.

a/n: this is my first time posting on this account and i’m nervous. also excuse me if there are grammar mistakes in this, english is not really my first language </3 feel free to give constructive criticism and feedbacks! please help boost this <33

————

Secret kisses, touches and affection is what these few months have been. At first, you and Spencer tried really hard to not even give out the impression that the two of you like each other in that way but as months go by, the two of you loosen up with the team and started to show some signs of affection with each other publicly.

Of course, the two of you still did not want the secret relationship to be not-so-secret yet so it is still quite subtle with the hints. The team all gave knowing glances and smirks with each other, thinking that you and Spencer are crushing on each other and are waiting for the moment where one of you confesses and start dating.

The team made a bet; Hotch, Rossi and Emily bet that you guys are already dating. JJ, Derek and Penelope bet that you guys are in the crushing phase and will sooner or later start to date.

The team all began to keep a close eye on the two of you. Every touch, glances and laughter the two of you shared is being closely speculated by the team.

You noticed the longing stares you would receive— a little creeped out by the odd behaviour your co-workers were showing. Then it all clicked one night while you were about to drift away to sleep; your eyes opened wide and you immediately grabbed your phone to give Spencer a call.

“No—I’m telling you, they know,” You said with wide eyes, grabbing onto Spencer’s arm and shaking them. “They’re just waiting for real obvious proof that shows we’re dating.”

Spencer stared at you with narrows eyes and his mouth slightly open, trying to let your words sink in. “Uh huh… so what do we do?” He asked, trying to think of a time where he finds the team acting suspiciously around him.

“Well… we could pretend to be mad at each other or spend less time together around them,” you replied, biting your lips nervously and crossing your arms. Your eyebrows furrowed, your mind running through all the possible scenarios that you two can do.

Spencer stared at you, his gaze calculative and perceptive. She doesn’t want them to find out. She’s embarrassed—ashamed to be caught dating him. Spencer felt his heart ache at those thoughts, looking at the frantic girl in front of him.

“Spencer? Help me out here!” You were now slumped, your mouth set in a pout. To Spencer, you seemed like you were regretting your decisions of ever dating him. Regret giving him risqué kisses in between breaks during work, afraid someone from the team saw it.

Before he could reply, you started rambling again, listing all the possibilities of how they found out and how we can overcome and make it look like a normal thing to do. Spencer couldn’t help but frown, blinking at his lover while you list off ways to seperate them from the eye of the public.

After a minute of you rambling, Spencer couldn’t take it. He couldn’t stop the words that came out of his mouth. “Am I that bad that you would do all those just because you don’t want people to find out someone like you is fraternising with someone like me?” His voice barely above a whisper, his gaze set down— too afraid and hurt to look at you.

Your hands stop mid-air, your eyes wide and your mouth immediately froze. Your eyes were searching his face, his words echoing at the back of your mind. You blinked a few times, before his words finally sink in.

“Wha- Spence, no. Why would you—“ You were stunned, your heart racing, aching for him. You quickly scramble to him, your hands frantically grabbing his and then you cupped his face, your eyes searching for his desperately. “Spencer, I love you. I fucking love you so much— hell, I have never love you like I love anyone else. I didn’t think you— I thought you wanted us to be a secret…”

“Spencer I am so sorry, I just thought you also enjoyed this secret relationship thing—oh my god, I love you, I love you, I love you. I just— I figured you weren’t ready yet and I didn’t want you to feel weird or anything. Spencer, if I could— I would show you off to the whole world. Let everyone know that you’re mine. Let everyone know how I am the luckiest girl to ever exist knowing that you are mine and I am yours.”

Spencer looked up at you with glassy eyes, his lips trembling. You were blinking rapidly, trying to stop your tears from coming out. Spencer— your Spencer is hurt, and it is because of you being so caught up in your own thoughts that you didn’t think about his— how he thought about this whole relationship and situation, how he felt.

“Oh Spencer,” you grabbed his head and pulled him into your shoulder, hugging him and kissing the side of his head. You heard a sob coming out from him and your heart completely cracked. You knew his past, what people did to him, what people think of him. You would never want him to think you are like them, you adore and look up to him so much.

“This was all a big misunderstanding, my love. How about this, tomorrow morning, we march to the office and we will tell the whole office that we’re together.” You said, nodding your head fervently.

Spencer lifted his head up from your shoulder, his eyes meeting yours. He swallowed thickly, his cheeks tear stained as he shook his head. He had a small smile, his left hand coming to your face, softly caressing your cheeks. You leaned into his touch, kissing his palms.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know why I entertained that thought. I love you and you love me, that’s all that matters. We don’t have to do that, alright? We will tell them when you’re ready.” Spencer croaked, his misty eyes meeting yours.

You shook your head, almost aggressively. “No Spencer, I’m ready. I’ve always been, I just— No, Spencer. I want them to know, I’ve always wanted them to know.” you protested, your hands coming to cup his face again, leaning in and placing a tender kiss on his soft lips. You smiled sadly, tucking a strand of his hair behind his ear.

You grabbed his hand that was caressing your cheek to your lips and you kissed it, showing him nothing but the love you have for him. “Your mine, Spencer. And I wouldn’t want to keep something this beautiful from people, they deserve to see the love we have for each other. This beautiful bond we have. I’m sorry for making you think the wrong thing, I love you and I didn’t mean to make you feel like that.”

Spencer let out a chuckle, his lips now in a smirk. You looked at him in confusion, wanting to know what he found so amusing. Spencer looked at you with his honey-brown eyes, filled with nothing but adoration and love.

“Two years since i’ve known you, six months since we’ve started dating. That was a pretty long run, don’t you think?” Spencer asked, his lips now curled into a smile and sat back down at the sofa, pulling you with him so your back would rest on his chest.

“Hmm, where are you going with this?”

“What I’m trying to say is that I think it’s time we tell them. Unless you want them to give a profile on us,” Spencer joked, looking down at you with a wide smirk. “But, I’m not planning to just ‘march up to the office’ and announce it to all of our co-workers.”

You looked at him, amused. “What are you thinking of, doctor?”

“Well, my guess is that they probably have a bet against us. You mentioned how they have been creepily lurking around us and staring. They were obviously searching for some sort of confirmation and hard-proof evidence that we are together. So, what i’m thinking of is that we play the players.”

Your smirk grew and you two looked at each other with mischievous eyes. You threw your head back, laughing at the idea the genius told you. He let out a chuckle, looking at you with full admiration before continuing to tell his brilliant plan.

—

A case came up and you and Spencer’s plan had to be put on hold… or maybe improvised. Spencer sat beside you on the jet, JJ and Rossi opposite the two of you. Penelope popped up at the screen, sharing the information she has on the victims family.

“Also my beloved crime fighters, if you look at the counter at the pantry, you would find a lovely box of cupcakes that I personally baked myself with all my love. I asked JJ to bring it there so you could think of me from a mile high. JJ, bring em’ out!” Penelope exclaimed.

JJ clapped her hands together and got up to get the cupcakes. The rest of us broke into excitement chatter as we waited for JJ to come out with the cupcakes.

You picked out your usual flavoured cupcake you would always buy and Spencer picked out the chocolate one. The two of you looked at each other, smiling as you take a bite out of the cupcake.

“How is it? I think I added a little bit of extra sugar… hope it didn’t mess up the whole thing…”

“It’s really nice, Garcia. Thank you,” Spencer commented. “Did you know, that the earliest extant description of a cupcake was in 1796, when a recipe for— what they used to call cupcakes, a light cake to—“

“That’s nice, Spence. Garcia, is there some sort of secret recipe to this delicious cupcake or what? If so, pass me the gem.” JJ interrupted, pointing to her cupcake, licking her lips as she took another bite.

You looked at Spencer with a sympathetic smile, brushing his hair with your fingers and leaning in to give him a quick kiss on his lips. You heard the room go all quiet except for Garcia rambling about her baking and you and Spencer fought the urge to burst out laughing. You slowly turn away from Spencer, leaning back to your seat and taking another bite out of the cupcake, purposely taking a deep breath and closing your eyes as you leisurely chew.

“Why are all of you quiet? Why’s Hotch looking at Spencer and Y/n direction? What’s going on? Did something happen? Is the connection bad or something? Hello?”

Spencer was pursing his lips to keep his laughter in and you were looking out the window with your teeth trapping your bottom lip to keep your laughter in. Emily, Hotch, Derek, JJ and Rossi were looking at you, appalled.

You pretended to look taken aback, before sitting up straight. “Oh, Spencer and I are dating. We have been for six months. Just wanted to clear the air around here.” You stated with a condescending smile. Spencer mirrored your smile, his hand coming to hold yours, rubbing circles on your delicate hands with his thumb before bringing it upon his lips and placing a soft kiss there.

Derek was the one who broke the silence with a loud laugh. “Pretty boy and pretty girl. Didn’t know you guys had it in you.” He chuckled, coming behind Spencer to give him a pat on his back. The rest of the team broke into laughter, Penelope freaking out in the screen, begging for someone to turn the screen towards the couple.

“Pay up! Morgan, JJ. Garcia I will get back to you when I get back.” Emily cheered, putting her hand out to which Hotch and Rossi quickly followed. Derek and JJ made a grumbled noise and rolled their eyes, pulling out ten dollars each. Penelope was now at every screen there is in the jet, talking senselessly and threatening you to share all the details when you get back.

The team was happy for the both of you, their moods immediately lifted up after the news from you and Spencer. Everyone continued to finish the finishing cupcakes with huge grins and knowing smirks. Even Hotch was looking at you with a toothy grin. You felt content, safe and at home. Spencer gave you another kiss on your lips and forehead, wrapping his arm around you, looking around with a smile.

[babymetaldoll]

Masterlist

Hello! Thank you for reading! I hope you like my stories. Currently, I’m writing  Spencer Reid and Matthew Gray Gubler.  

There’s a lot of fluff in here, a little smut, random ideas, and swearing. 

Request are closed. 

Series

- Do I wanna Know (Spencer Reid/ Fem!BAUReader) Part 1- Completed 

Join the exciting and infuriating journey of being in love with Spencer Reid, not knowing he loves you too. And enjoy five years of his unquestionable friendship before facing the real truth: you can't be in love with your best friend and pretend there is nothing wrong. Slow, very slow burn.

- Baby I’m yours (Spencer Reid/ Fem!BAUReader) Part 2 - Completed

After years of mutual pinning, you and Spencer are finally dating. And everything is, in fact, perfect. Until life and work at the BAU start complicating your relationship.

How will you and Spencer deal with Emily's dead? And with everything that involves dating your coworker and best friend.

- R u Mine? (Spencer Reid/fem!BAUreader) Part 3 - ongoing

Spencer Reid and his wife are dealing with a lot lately: work, making their relationship work, raising their children. But most of all, they are dealing with the realization they shouldn't continue working at the BAU anymore.

Should they leave the team after so many years working together?

- Danger days (Matthew Gray Gubler x OC + My Chemical Romance) Completed

MCR has only one more drummer audition before they have to start touring again. None of them knows their last chance is a girl. Matthew Gray Gubler’s girlfriend.

** **

One shots 

Spencer Reid 

Fools in love:  

- The List: Reader wants to know which are Spencer biggest regrets. 

- Getting down the germs: Spencer and Reader analyze a world where germs don’t exist. 

- Spilling drinks on my settee: Spencer is drunk with Morgan.

- The morning after (Spilling drinks on my settee part 2): Hungover Spencer has to face Reader after she caught him drunk, puking outside her house. 

- On cloud nine: It doesn’t matter how many times Hotch asks Spencer to stop the physics magic at the BAU, he just can’t help it, especially when he wants to impress Reader.

- Ask the girl out, for crying out loud!:  Random talking about books and authors in the jet back from a case creates a lot of awkward silences between Spencer and Reader, they can actually even drive Rossi a little crazy.

- So happy together:_ Spencer bumps into an old annoying classmate, who brags about his perfect family, and Reader decides to pretend to be Spencer’s wife to shut him up. 

- So happy together II: After years, Spencer finally asked Reader out, just to bump into reality: They work at the BAU, and psychopaths don’t have a schedule.

- I'm going to get you if it takes me all night long (Spencer Reid/ Reader):_ On their third date, (Y/N) takes Spencer to his first rock concert, and for the first time ever, Spencer Reid feels the power of hormones taking over him._

- Birthday wishes: Spencer overthinks Reader’s birthday present ‘cos he doesn't know if they are dating or not.

- Sex with your best friend (Birthday Wishes II) (Spencer Reid/ Reader): After asking (Y/N) to be his girlfriend, Spencer Reid finally stopped taking things slow, and made a bold move. Now it time to face the morning after having sex with your best friend. 

- Teasing: Teasing Spencer at work is both a good and a bad idea. And (Y/N) knows exactly what she is doing.

- Passive aggressive: Spencer and his girlfriend don't know if they will survive their first fight.

_ _

Prompts and requests:

- I always wanted a brother: _A kid shows up at Spencer’s door in the middle of the night, alleging he is the doctor’s younger brother. 

- As long as you are safe: People say “I would die for you” a lot, but never actually mean it. She never said it, but she was willing to take a bullet for Spencer Reid if she had to.    

- BAU Secret Santa (aka Rossi vs Zoom):  Rossi might have said too much when he wasn't muted in the BAU online Secret Santa Celebration. And Reid is too embarrassed to face (Y/N) afterward. 

- Serenade her, bro!: Spencer and (Y/N) have their first big after a rough case. To help him ease his mind, Derek and Rossi take him out for a few drinks. But things get a little… out of hand. 

- Nemesis: A case takes the team back to Seattle, (Y/N)’s hometown, only to discover her past was darker than they had ever imagined. 

- Stargazing: The team is “forced” to go camping, and Spencer finally decides to make “his move” on Reader.

- The Carnival’s challenge: Reader needs to get a gigantic stuffed animal and Reid is determined to get it for her. 

- Baby Reid: Spencer Reid is about to be a father, and he can't stop thinking about everything that could go wrong.

- Don’t be a d!ck: Spencer Reid can't believe it when he finds something shocking in his girlfriend's phone. And, of course, instead of asking her about it, he spends a whole day overthinking everything.

- Crybaby (Spencer Reid/Reader): Reader is embarrassed ’cos she thinks she cries too much, and Spencer just wants to show her he loves her no matter what.

- Spencer Reid’s first Valentine’s Day: Spencer has no idea what to do for Valentine's Day. After all, he has never had a girlfriend before.

- I love you (and I don’t want to): After three years in love with Spencer, (Y/N) decides it’s time to move on.  He will never love her anyway, right?  

- Act one: Spencer’s girlfriend is a sweetheart, but he discovers a new side of her when she gets the lead on a play, and she portraits an unsub.

- I’ve been working out a little bit:  Reader finds out Spencer has been working out for the fit test and wants to help him. But he is embarrassed of his poor athletic performance.

- The Sean Hotchner effect: Spencer is jealous ‘cos reader thinks Aaron’s younger brother is hot.  

- Victory: Spencer’s daughter hates her father’s girlfriend. But when he is in prison, life pushes them to finally get along.

- Kiss it better: Reader is in pain but tries to hide it from Spencer ‘cos she doesn’t think it’s important.

- You are gonna be a great dad: Spencer’s wife wants to tell him she is pregnant. But life gets in the way. And the whole team might find out before Reid.

- I don’t wanna share my dad!: Little Raven Reid isn’t fond of the idea of having a sibling ‘cos she refuses to share her daddy’s love.

- Can’t help falling in love with you: After being hospitalized due to anthrax, Rossi sends him and (Y/N) to Hawaii, ‘cos some sea breeze might be good for his lungs. 

- Movie marathon: Spencer wants to ask (Y/N) out on a date for Halloween, and they end up watching horror movies and giving kids candies.

- Mildred: After prison, Spencer can't get out of the house, and the team tries to help. Could I cute dog walker finally get him out of his apartment?

- Heather: Spencer has to learn how to live without Mildred, that's when he decided to adopt Heather. And you? you look at him, sighing in love, wondering when he will finally kiss you.

- Love cramps: (Y/N)'s period is killing her and Spencer takes care of her. 

- Broken: Spencer daydreams of a life with his best friend.

- House of wolves: Spencer has a secret he has kept from everybody, including his girlfriend.

- It’s ok if you are not ok: Reader feels ugly and a very bad mom after having their first baby, and Spencer comforts her.  

- BFF: Spencer meets his best friend from school after 12 years apart. 

- Little Miss Reid, entrepreneur:  Spencer and reader help their little daughter with her very first lemonade stand, and the whole BAU family gets together.  

- Embarrassed: Spencer embarrassed himself in front of reader, and the annual FBI beach trip could be the perfect place to make things even more awkward between them. 

- The annual BAU Halloween Costume Competition: Spencer wants to win a costume competition, but wins your heart instead. 

- Pillow talk: Just rambling with Spencer after sex  

Writing challenge: We are not gonna make it 

Six stories about Spencer Reid to push me and my bestie out of our writer’s block. 

Matthew Gray Gubler 

The Gubs

- Bunny: Matthew just started dating this new girl he can’t stop thinking about, and suddenly, all the love clichés are making sense.

- What are you going to be for Halloween?: Matthew Gray Gubler and his girlfriend spend Halloween with his family in Las Vegas, and take his nephews trick or treating. What could go wrong? Losing one of the kids, of course.

- Naked: Matthew Gray Gubler wanted to post an innocent picture on instagram, but makes the worst mistake of his life instead.

- Purple Rain: After spending a whole month of rain together, Matthew and reader need to feel the sun on their skin.

- Bullies of the future: Matthew starts rambling about the future over dinner. How do you think school will be in the future… will there be bullies… will our kids be bullied. All the questions reader has no idea how to answer.

- Gublerween vs Halloreid:_ Reader wants Spencer Reid to have his own holiday, and Matthew gets a little jealous.

- Don’t you forget about me: Matthew wonders what would happen if suddenly everybody forgets who he is. And Reader is there to tell him she is never going to forget him.  

- M&Money: After all their friends are gone, Matthew and Reader stay playing poker and betting all their chocolates on longboards and kimonos.

- Character development: Gubler reaches home and finds a very depressed girlfriend waiting for him to talk about the bad things that had just happened to Spencer in that week's episode of Criminal Minds.

- Insomnia: Matthew can’t sleep when he is home alone, and wakes up reader just to tell her he misses her. 

- April’s fool: Matthew Gray has the stupidest idea to prank his girlfriend on April’s fool, and though everyone tells him not to do it, he doesn’t listen... and pays for it.

- The Super Secret Mystery Project (Insomnia II) (Matthew Gray Gubler / Reader): Matthew Gray Gubler proposes to Reader after seven years together 

- Quarantine with Matthew Gray Gubler: Matthew loves making people happy, and in quarantine, he finds the best way to keep in touch with his fans and do what he loves the most: spend time with (Y/N) 

- The Devil’s food cake situation: One fake argument ends up being the sweetest moment Gubler and (Y/N) have ever shared.

- The Rumple Buttercup situation: Matthew tries to convince his wife to name their first newborn “Rumple Buttercup.”

- A story of hazelnuts, bananas, and loving your bae (Matthew Gray Gubler/ Reader): _No one has ever been so excited about releasing a book than Matthew Gray Gubler. So excited he might actually forget he has to eat... _

- Baby Gubs:_ Matthew Gray Gubler is having a hard time putting his shit together when his wife goes into labor._

- From daddy to dad: Matthew Gray has to stop acting like a kid around his son, and start being a dad. Or at least that’s how reader feels.

- Sleepless: Matthew and his wife are trying to get used to having two kids instead of two.

- Dada: Matthew is crazy for his daughter Mila, and all he wants is for everyone to know she can already say "dada.” Spoiler alert, Mila might have other plans.

- The Unauthorized Documentary, for kids: Matthew wants his little daughter Mila to be part of his "Unauthorized Documentary", but his wife, (Y/N) thinks she might be too little.

- Prompts: (Y/N) Gubler needs her husband's help to pick a prompt to write a Halloween story. Luckily, Matthew is a Halloween expert.  

.

Prompts and requests:

- Family probation period (Matthew Gray Gubler/ Reader):_ Matthew Gray Gubler meets his girlfriend’s family on Christmas eve. Just one detail: none of them knew she was dating. _

- Let me show you how I love you: (Smut) When (Y/N) feels insecure, Matthew Gray Gubler shows her how much he loves and wants her.

Chip Taylor (68 kill)

I just want you: What would it be like to be married to Chip Taylor? Would it include a lot of women trying to hit on him?

[ladygenius]

Crimson Nights & Predators Part II

Description: After sneaking away at Rossis wedding to escape from lurking predators y/n and Spencer discover a safe place for both of them

Pairing: Reid x female bau reader

Content: pining, jealousy, just protective cutiepie Spence

Warnings: alcohol consumption, a couple swear words

Wordcount: 1150

Her serenading giggle echoed through the luxurious halls of the ancient building. Kings and Queens must have dined here some long-forgotten day, Spencer thought to himself. Her hand in his definitely made him feel as if being of Royal Blood himself.

As they were running through the halls and up a lavishly carpentered staircase their laughter almost managed to overshadow the splendor all around them, leaving even the countless portraits of ancient aristocrats staring down with jealousy. Jealous of those joys and passions only bodies of flesh and bone could be touched by.

But what had that to do with Spencer's and y/n's relationship?

Even now, it was obvious to him, that this was nothing but a dream, he would eventually have to wake up from. But right now he didn't care about the real world. The next day at work or his next awkward move when he felt self-conscious around her. Right now, he wanted this fairytale.

"Where are we going, y/n?", he couldn't help but be curious.

"Oh, you'll see.. Alright. It must have been about.. here!" After turning another corner, she made an abrupt halt in front of the most opulent-looking door they'd come across thus far. All the others were white but this one was made of elegant mahogany wood, all shiny and adorned with little golden ornaments. He had to admit, he was more than intrigued by the secrecy their little adventure had in store.

And y/n knew. She smirked at him proudly, as she admired his perfectly sculpted profile while he was admiring the sight of the mysterious door.

Oh, he'll fit right in there, she thought to herself with anticipation.

"Wait till you've seen what the inside looks like Doc", y/n gently slipped in front of Spencer, their bodies briefly touching.

Carefully she turned the knobs of the winged door and got them both open simultaneously with some effort. "Ready to have your mind blown?"

By god, Spencer was quite convinced he couldn't possibly be ready for anything this woman had in store. The luscious timbre of her voice alone was enough to make his head spin.

She stepped into the room confidently, darkness swallowing her at first, but the light thrown in from outside the window still allowed him to admire her perfect silhouette. He followed her cautiously, barely being able to make out a thing while y/n was clearly looking for the light switch. A sudden noise made them both startle, as the heavy doors to the room slammed shut. Y/n burst out into laughter about the high-pitched shriek that had just escaped her throat. Or was it Spencer's?

"Damn, I can't see a thing. Where's that goddamn light switch?"

"Woah easy, agent y/l/n. Weren't you here before?" He was quite amused by her sudden outburst.

"Why, yeah. But it's not where I remembered it somehow." As he was trying to help her find it, she almost stumbled over his feet, instinctively holding onto his chest to steady herself. 

"Careful there, Klutz." His strong grip on her waistline immediately sent chills down her spine. While his eyes were slowly adjusting to the lack of light, the two of them stayed like this much longer than it took for y/n to regain her balance. He could now make out the linings of her face again, losing himself inside the gleams of light reflected in her widened orbs. The crimson-colored fabric underneath Spencer’s fingertips almost seemed to vibrate against his skin as he felt his own flesh burning, melting until it could finally be one with her.

“Oh”, y/n’s hand reached somewhere behind his back, her chest leaning in on him closely. With a sudden clicking sound the room lit up in flames – that’s how badly the actually quite cozy sepia light dazzled his vision at first. “Found it.” She shyly took a few steps away from him, her cheeks tinted in a soft shade of rose.

It was only now that Spencer took notice of the imminent splendor that was the essence of the room - or rather - the hall around them. His face froze as he was admiring the endless sea of bookshelves filling every corner of what must have been the single hugest library he has ever seen his entire life. How could I not know about this? he asked himself.

“So?” y/n cockily folded her arms in front of her chest, observing him closely. “Is this awesome or is this like, awesome squared infinity?”

His heart lit up at the woman of his dreams being equally excited about this sight of pure pleasure to him: books as far as the eyes could see, stacked from ceiling to floor onto the most extravagantly looking bookshelves. Their copies protected by fancy leather and clothbound covers, some of them undoubtedly first prints or at least rarest collectors’ editions. Not even he could read all of them in a week.

“Oh my god”, was the first thing Spencer could utter after an eternity of simply staring in awe. “This is incredible, y/n. How on earth did you find this?”

“Well, it might be that earlier this evening as I was taking a little extra-long in the restroom to hide from certain coworkers of ours, I started strolling around. And I couldn’t get past this door without risking a look by the life of me."

Her fingers carefully ran along the curved surface of an expensive-looking globe in the library's center. The dreamy look on her face was a sight he couldn’t ever possibly get enough of.

“Knew it!” Y/n victoriously chimed as she got open the top part of the globe, literally splitting the world in half with just one move. Yeah, that depicts perfectly what she’s doing to his own on a daily basis. The inside of the globe revealed an old-school minibar. “You really wanna drink some of this?” Spencer exclaimed in his signature surprised high pitch as y/n was studying the different bottles inside.

“Oh, come on, Rossi pays this place a fortune for tonight anyway. I’m positive they can spare like two fingers of whatever this stuff is in here. Yuck!” She scrunched her nose disgustedly at smelling the bottle but went along pouring the dark liquid into two fancy whisky glasses anyway.

“This might be a little rough. But you know, we’re in a gentleman’s environment today, so we’re doing gentlemanly stuff. To going astray.” Her glass clinked against his own.

No. To going astray with you, Spencer thought to himself.

Final Part III

[darkmatilda]

╰┈➤ the pumpkin reaper

part 2: second day of investigation

part 1 here!

part 3 here!

in which you and the bau are handling the case of a murderer in a small, sleepy town

tw: decapitation, description of the crime scene etc, mention of a suicide attempt, mental illness

contents: spencer reid x fem!baureader, solving a criminal mystery, angst, slow burn

words: 7.3k

okay, i realize how incredibly long this is but that's just how i am, i have to stretch every scene to the limits. i'm sorry!!!" anyway, i hope you'll enjoy it <3

You were pulled out of bed at five in the morning.

 Just three hours after you’d finally managed to fall into a light, broken sleep. Maybe you hadn’t really been sleeping at all — just lying there with your eyes closed, half-aware? You weren’t sure. The exhaustion weighing on you suggested the latter. Yet you didn’t complain. As soon as you learned that another body had been found in that same cursed forest, it felt like you’d been plunged into an ice-cold bath. All that mattered now was reaching the crime scene as quickly as possible.

You and Spencer ended up in the same car with Hotch and Rossi. Although the drive took almost half an hour, it passed in the blink of an eye. None of you spoke; the tension was evident on each of your faces. You’d dressed more comfortably than the day before, opting for navy jeans and sturdier shoes better suited for walking in the forest. In the rush, you hadn’t changed out of your pajama shirt — you’d simply thrown on a black leather coat over it. You buttoned it up carefully so no one would notice the shirt featuring a duck holding a knife with the caption I have stability (ability to stab), easily the worst possible choice of clothes for examining a murder scene.

The next steps proceeded in a typical, meticulous way. Everything around was secured, and you examined the body, which was roughly in the same state of decomposition as the bodies of the city council members. The inflicted wounds also appeared to be similar. There was a missing head, but aside from that, there were relatively few injuries.

At sunrise, the whole team gathered near the cars. Derek leaned against one of them, and you all had sleepy, slightly puffy faces with dark circles under your eyes. JJ looked so good and put together that you found yourself wondering if she went to sleep fully dressed in her professional attire.

“The victim is a man with an unidentified identity, but there is a strong likelihood that this is the missing city councilman, Percy Donovan, who disappeared in the last few weeks.”  Hotch informed you all. “This trio of women, who were treated the most brutally, were the earliest victims, lying in this forest for about six weeks. The one found last night was likely killed around the same time as the other two city council members. It’s unclear why his body was left in a different location, but considering the relatively short distance, it might have been a matter of convenience for the perpetrator. He was unable to transport all three bodies at once, so he delivered the last one after some time. He discarded it closer to the road but concealed it more carefully. The time of their death is estimated to be around three weeks ago”

“Let’s analyze everything from the beginning,” Rossi suggested, raising both hands. “The unsub’s first victims were killed six weeks ago. They were three women: a teacher, a social worker, and…”

“A worker from the orphanage,” Reid recalled. 

“Then there’s a three-week gap, and three more bodies are hidden in the forest. This time, there were two men and one woman, all of whom were city council members. The only connection between all six victims is that their heads were severed. Don’t you think we might be dealing with a duo? That would explain the differences in brutality.”

“That’s one possibility,” Hotch agreed. “I asked Garcia to check for criminals or psychiatric patients who have been released recently, but she didn’t find anything noteworthy.”

The sheriff approached you, the same big man you’d seen before. Shock was written on his face; as a cop in such a small town, he likely rarely dealt with cases like this.

“I knew Percy,” he shared immediately. “I knew him very well. We sometimes went out to the bar together to play pool. He had some problems in his marriage; they often argued. When he disappeared, I thought he had just left because he needed some space…”

“We’re very sorry,” JJ said gently. “Yesterday, you mentioned that you know a lot about the people in this town. Could you provide us with more information about the victims? We’re trying to find any connections, if there are any.”

Before they stepped aside to discuss this, Reid raised a finger.

“Sheriff, do you think the offender had to know this forest well to choose to hide the bodies here? In these specific locations?”

Russell pondered the question.

“I don’t think so. In my opinion, it could have been anyone, and they didn’t necessarily have to be from here. I doubt he comes from this town; as I said, it’s mostly decent people.”

JJ led him a few steps away to begin their discussion. You and the rest of the team fell silent for a moment.

“One thing worries me,” Morgan said, furrowing his brow. “Okay, a lot of things worry me, but this one particularly. If there was roughly a three-week gap between the murders of these two groups of people, and the last bodies were found just three weeks ago…”

“That means the unsub could strike again at any moment,” you finished his thought, nervously clenching your hands into fists.

Everyone turned to look at you; you had just voiced a shared concern. Hotch stared into space for a moment, then nodded to himself as if coming to a decision. He spoke in his usual commanding tone.

“We need to take action. Morgan and Prentiss, you’ll meet with the families of the first three victims, the women, I mean. Rossi, you and JJ will go to the families of the other victims. Your job is to find out if there’s anything that could connect them. Y/N and Reid, your task will be to go to the forester’s lodge and gather information on whether anyone has encountered any suspicious individuals in this forest. I’ll head to the city hall to talk to the mayor.”

Everyone scattered, ready to tackle their tasks. You nodded at Reid and together you headed towards one of the cars, where you hesitated.

“Do you have a map of this town, or will we need to ask the sheriff where the ranger station is?” you asked, glancing back at the man still talking to JJ.

“I left it at the hotel, but it just so happens that I memorized the whole thing, so I know where we need to go. It’s not far at all.”

Your eyebrows shot up.

“You memorized the entire map?”

“I always do that when we’re working a case in an unfamiliar place,” he explained, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. Memorizing an entire map, with all the roads and landmarks. Just an everyday activity.

You snorted and got into the car, an unmarked police vehicle, on the passenger side.

“We'll have to stop at a gas station,” you said, fastening your seatbelt.

“Why? The tank’s almost full.”

“Coffee.”

He opened his mouth to say something, then thought better of it. You glanced at his profile as he, focused on driving, pulled off the shoulder onto the road, choosing a direction.

“You couldn’t sleep last night, huh?” 

You shrugged. You didn’t want to get into the backstory of your sleep issues with him, so you decided on a slightly embellished answer.

“I couldn’t fall asleep for a bit; it’s usually like that in new places. But then I slept like a baby, really. At least until Hotch woke us with that call before 5 a.m.”

“No, you didn’t. I woke up a few times, and your breathing suggested you weren’t sleeping. It was too shallow and irregular. Normally, when someone’s asleep, it looks different because their breathing engages the diaphragm muscles.”

Did he really just analyze your breathing and deduce you hadn’t been sleeping? You looked out the window, momentarily at a loss for words, before deciding to turn it into a joke.

“Reid, this is the creepiest thing I’ve heard in a while.”

“Really? It’s just basic human physiology. So, back to my question, which you decided to turn into a joke to avoid answering”

“Jesus Christ, Holy Mother of God, yes, I couldn’t sleep because I forgot my sleeping pills,  and I can’t get a wink without them. What’s it to you?”

Your outburst of irritation caught him off guard. You immediately regretted your unpleasant tone; he had always been so kind to you. Reid paused for a moment, cleared his throat, and calmly returned to the topic. 

“I figured that out after you were so upset last night. When you told me you forgot something. You know, you could have just asked me or someone else on the team. It just so happens that I always have Ambien on me. I don’t need it anymore, but I carry it just in case.”

You fell silent, not knowing how to respond. You felt doubly embarrassed, especially since his initial question wasn’t even attacking! It was just that you had been so closed off, pushing that barrier further and further away whenever someone showed even a hint of concern for you.

The car glided along the empty road, one of those that seemed to stretch on forever. Like an endlessly long carpet with a white stripe down the middle, unfurling as you drove. Surrounding it was the forest—the same one where you sought refuge yesterday to avoid answering Prentiss’s question about your brother. Your reticence was becoming burdensome, but you didn’t know how to deal with it. When you opened up, you felt vulnerable, as if you were at the mercy of someone else. You also hated pity. Your mom loved it. She relished the chance to burden random people waiting at the same bus stop with tales of how her husband didn’t love her and how her kids hated her, even though none of that was true. Talking to someone about yourself made you feel just like her.

As you drifted off in thought, filled with a sense of guilt, Reid spoke up again.

“I’ve noticed recently...”

He barely began the sentence before he cut it off. He didn’t continue, as if the wind had slipped in through the slightly open window, snatched his words, and whisked them away to some unknown place, never to return.

“What have you noticed?” you asked.

“Nothing. It doesn’t matter,” he replied, shaking his head.

“You can say it, whatever it is. I won’t be offended.”

Deep down, you were afraid his comment would hurt. Maybe he’d say, “Your inability to open up is just pathetic. And it’s not just me; the whole team thinks so. Though honestly, it’s probably better that you don’t say anything. None of us want to hear about it.” Just the thought of him saying something like that tightened your chest, and you went pale. It was a stark reminder of how much you feared what others thought of you. You knew Spencer would never say something like that—he might not always be socially adept, but cruel comments were not in his nature. What scared you more was the possibility that he could think that way about you. You were terrified that it might be true.

Meanwhile, Reid asked:

 “Do you like autumn?”

You let out a surprised laugh. “That’s what you’ve noticed lately? That I like autumn?”

“No,” he replied. “I’m asking if you like autumn.”

Your confusion left you momentarily speechless. You looked at him as if he were a math teacher back in school trying for the third time to explain what a logarithm actually was. That question distracted you from your earlier, unpleasant thoughts.

Looking at his slight smile, you answered. 

“I’m not a fan. I hate it, actually”

“Really?” 

“I don’t know why people love it so much. It’s cold, it makes our work harder. It rains, and you've seen the extent of decay those bodies had because of it. Again, it’s cold”

It seemed that your arguments didn’t resonate with Reid.

“You’re looking at it from a very practical standpoint. For our line of work, I agree, autumn can be terrible. But there’s something enchanting about it. The leaves. Reading in the evening while it’s raining outside is particularly enjoyable.”

“I personally prefer reading in the bright sun, on the beach, soaking up the rays. Without the risk of my hand falling off from the cold as soon as I pull it out from under the blanket to turn the page.”

He laughed.

“In less than twenty-four hours, I’ve learned more about you than I have in the past year,” he said. “That you have a brother, you definitely prefer summer over autumn, and you love Haruki Murakami’s books.”

“That’s all because we’re roommates now.”Wait, I’ve never told you I like Haruki Murakami!”

“I saw you reading his book yesterday. Kafka on the Shore.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I like him.”

“You read more than half of that book on the flight, hardly taking your eyes off it. You only paused when your brother called you. You were completely mesmerized, so I’m guessing you must’ve liked it.”

He was right; you had been completely absorbed in that novel. So much so that you didn’t even realize he had been watching you on the plane. Seizing the opportunity, you asked him for his interpretation of a certain part of the plot that seemed unclear to you. For the rest of the flight, you listened intently as he passionately shared his thoughts, surprised that someone could talk about a book with such enthusiasm.

The smiles faded from your faces as the car suddenly jolted. Concerned, you looked around for the cause and quickly figured out what had happened. Reid had veered off the main road and onto a forest path leading to a cabin. Due to the rain, it had turned into a muddy mess, making it difficult for the car’s wheels, ill-suited for such terrain, to push through.

“How much further it is?” you asked. ““Maybe it’d be better if we walked from here. We don’t want the car to get stuck” 

Spencer agreed with your suggestion. Your shoes sank into the mud as soon as you touched the ground. The weather that day was better than before; a gray layer of clouds hung overhead, but it wasn’t raining. The air around you felt pleasantly crisp and invigorating. You took a deep breath that tasted wonderful, energizing like coffee. Your companion cursed softly under his breath as his feet began to slip on the troublesome surface as well.

“So, do you still like autumn that much?” you couldn’t help but ask teasingly.

“I love it,” he assured you, in an exaggeratedly eager tone. But after taking just one step, he nearly fell over. “God dammit…!”

You burst into loud laughter and confidently moved ahead. You’d learned your lesson from the previous day and put on more comfortable shoes, which you were very grateful for. The ones you were wearing not only repelled water but also minimized the risk of tasting the mud.

There was just a straight path leading to the cabin, and after a moment, you spotted a wooden, wide building with a sloped roof on the horizon. It looked rugged, not like one of those places city folks rented for the weekend to feel connected to nature.

As you walked, you didn’t turn back, busy looking around. Behind you, Reid was probably struggling for his life on the slippery path.

You reached the cabin first. Instead of knocking right away, you decided to wait for your companion. Just as you were about to turn around and shout some motivating phrase to him, the door swung open on its own.

You came face to face with a young man who had a military hairstyle. It was worth noting that he wasn’t wearing a shirt.

He looked you up and down, nodding to himself.

“Lost, are you?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest. Or maybe it was just your imagination, but he seemed to be trying to adopt a slightly flirtatious tone. Behind him, from inside the house, a loud barking could be heard. “Ares, quiet!”

By the time he turned back to you, Reid had already caught up and pulled his badge from his pocket.

“We’re with the FBI, and we’d like to ask a few questions.”

“Alright, so you’re definitely not lost… But hang on a sec, let me see your badge too. You’re way too young to be in the FBI,” he said, eyeing Reid as well. “You both look too young.”

“And yet,” you replied, patiently reaching for your badge.

He nodded and held the door open for you with a slight flourish. He didn’t seem the least bit fazed that the FBI had shown up on his doorstep. You wondered if he’d act differently if, instead of you two, it had been Hotch and Morgan paying him a visit.

“Take it easy,” he said, nodding to the Doberman at his side. “He’s aggressive, I won’t lie. But as long as you don’t make any sudden moves, we should be good. Ares, off you go.”

Reid glanced at you with amusement, and the corners of your mouth twitched. The ranger’s doberman was… a puppy. Tiny, tail wagging eagerly, clearly thrilled to see you both.

"Are you here alone?" you asked, looking around for any sign of others. From what you knew, there were usually a few rangers stationed together.

"Yeah, I’m the only one responsible for this whole area." he replied, folding his arms over his hips, where his loose pants hung low. He hadn’t even bothered to put on a shirt.

He had this strange ability to take up way more space than his body actually needed, standing with his legs planted wide apart. He also tried to look down on everyone around him—though it didn’t quite work, since Reid was taller than him.

"We’re here to ask you a few questions," Reid informed him once again.

"I heard you the first time"

You definitely didn’t like the tone of his voice. The unpleasantness of it made him far less attractive in your eyes. That was just how you were; you were drawn to well-mannered men who didn’t feel the need to assert their masculinity at every turn.

"This is related to a six-fold murder, so I'd advise you to tone it down a bit when talking to the FBI” 

Reid's sharper tone created an immediate tension between the two of them. The ranger tilted his head to the side, his shoulders suddenly drooping.

“Wait, sixfold?”

The information about the last body found had not yet been made public, though it was surely only a matter of time. The sheriff seemed like a complete gossip.

"It was found last night, so be aware that this case is extremely serious. We need to know if you’ve encountered anyone suspicious while patrolling this area in the past six weeks. Actually, it would be best if you could list everyone you remember."

"Actually, it might be better if you asked for my name first. It’ll come in handy for the report."

"Oh, right." His comment threw you off your rhythm. You should have done that first. He smiled at you, and you felt a slight blush rise to your cheeks. It wasn't because of his charm but rather from being caught in an unprofessional moment.

That was enough for Reid to look at you with a judging expression.

His phone suddenly rang.

“It's Hotch,” he said, furrowing his brows. He briefly touched your elbow, and his gaze softened significantly compared to how he had been speaking to the ranger. “Can you handle this? It shouldn't take long.”

You nodded, and he stepped aside to take the call. The ranger extended his hand as if he was just welcoming you to his home.

By the way, the cabin seemed quite cozy, mainly with wooden furniture, a fireplace, and a fur rug. Two sets of doors led out of the main room, one to an open kitchen and the other presumably to a bathroom or bedroom. His dog happily circled around your legs, and you bent down to gently pet him.

“Do you want to sit down, agent? I thought you came here on foot.”

“I’ll stand. The car didn’t quite handle the road. We left it nearby.”

“Yeah, that happens a lot, especially after the rain. There’s no way a typical patrol car could get through that. But anyway, I’m James Rivas. What did you want to ask me? Who caught my attention over the past six weeks?”

He sighed, thinking.

“That’s a really tough question, considering I often forget and feed the dog twice in the same morning. But I do remember a few people. First of all, there was a certain couple…”

“A couple? Two men? Or maybe a woman and a man? Did they seem nervous when they saw you?”

“A couple, as in a guy and a girl. Now that I think about it, she looked about twelve, probably his daughter.”

Your enthusiasm waned a bit. One of your theories was that the murders were committed by a duo, but the people he described didn’t sound like the perpetrators of such acts at all. He mentioned a few more people, mostly dog walkers, who caught his attention for trivial reasons like a flashy scarf or a pretty face (when he spoke about a woman). Even though the information didn’t seem particularly useful at first glance, you wrote it down in the small notebook you had brought with you.

Who knows, it might come in handy?

Reid returned with a serious expression on his face. You immediately straightened up, fearing what he might say.

“Another body has been found.”

“What?” you nearly shouted. The ranger also tensed up, abandoning his relaxed, flirtatious attitude. “Seventh? Where?”

“At a pumpkin farm. Apparently, some teenagers stumbled upon it; there were a lot of people at the scene, and a little panic broke out. Hotch wants us all there. Have you finished?” He glanced at you and James.

You raised your notepad and nodded. The skin on your hands paled from how tightly you were gripping the item.

Together, you started toward the door. You wanted to turn to the ranger and thank him for his help, as it hadn't been as difficult to cooperate with him as you might have thought. At that moment, he stopped you from leaving with a hand gesture.

"To the pumpkin farm? You'll get there faster through the woods than on the main road, but your car won't make it there. I'll give you a ride in my SUV."

You looked questioningly at Reid. You were both eager to get to the scene of the body as quickly as possible. The offer sounded tempting, but not entirely safe. He immediately shook his head in refusal.

"We'll manage," he said to James.

"Seriously, come on," the man insisted.

Reid opened his mouth to refuse again when James suddenly stepped closer to you, reaching for something in his pants pocket. You took a step back, having learned from experience, while your friend moved one step forward in a defensive gesture.

However, the ranger had no bad intentions — it turned out he was going to hand you the car keys.

"You can drive," he said. He closed the keys in your fingers as if offering you some precious item, grabbing you with both hands in the process. You were in too much of a hurry to flinch. You nodded gratefully. He smiled. "Actually, you have to, I just drank a beer. Plus, I’m coming with you; someone has to navigate, and who better to do it than me?”

You agreed, and Reid sighed, clearly unhappy with how things were turning out. James hurriedly grabbed a shirt and led you behind the house, where his black Jeep Wrangler was parked.

Following his lead, you settled into the driver's seat, though it stressed you out a bit. Since getting your driver's license, you hadn't had many opportunities to drive; you preferred the subway or, lately, relying on Prentiss's kindness.

“Don’t worry,” the ranger laughed as you hesitantly set off in the direction he indicated. “Now…”

“Turn left,” they both said at the same time.

James looked surprised at Reid, who was sitting right behind you in the back seat.

“How do you know that?”

“I memorized the entire map of this town and the surrounding area,” Reid replied with a shrug.

“You did…what?”

You and Reid smiled at each other in the front mirror.

The mentioned farm resembled a place straight out of an autumn photoshoot, where a pregnant woman embraces her partner against a backdrop of pumpkins arranged on hay bales or something like that. People came to this place from bigger cities, buying overpriced tickets and spending the whole afternoon strolling among rural decorations and props, soaking in the small-town atmosphere. From what you learned from the forest ranger, they also had horses there.

You got out of the car as soon as you spotted Hotch standing by a table made of red planks. There was no sign of anyone else from your team around, so you assumed that thanks to the shortcut, you had arrived there first. Out of the corner of your eye, you caught sight of the sheriff’s car, several patrol cars, and a group of shaken people who must have made that traumatic discovery.

Among them was a certain teenage girl. You looked at her with pity; she would likely remember this for the rest of her life. The forest ranger walked off to speak with the sheriff, while you and Reid headed toward your boss.

“Good thing you got here so quickly,” he said, eyeing the black jeep warily. However, he didn’t ask any questions, likely too absorbed in the case to think about it. “They were found… just see for yourselves.”

You exchanged a worried glance with Spencer. Hearing such words, you could expect the worst. You held your breath and allowed yourself to be led to two pumpkins placed in a secluded spot next to the barn. All the others you passed were huge, perfectly shaped, and brightly colored. But in these two specific ones, holes had been made, as if someone wanted to place a lantern inside. Instead of candles, however, there were… human heads inside.

“Oh my God…” you whispered, taking a step back. You bumped into Reid, and dazed, you mumbled some apologies. However, your gaze remained fixed on Hotch. “Did… did this young girl find this?

He nodded. It was only after a moment that you felt a hand gently placed on your shoulder. You looked up to see Spencer’s face.

“Were the other parts of their bodies found?”

“Only the heads,” your boss replied in an unreadable tone. “Y/n, I’d like you to talk to this girl Not interrogate her, just talk.”

Despite being shaken, you nodded eagerly. You had always considered yourself one of the more sensitive ones in this field, better suited for making deep psychological analyses based on the childhood or life experiences of an unsub rather than the crime itself. Still, you had no choice but to deal with such sights daily; you had toughened up a bit, which couldn’t be said for this girl. You shook off the tension in your body, put on a composed expression, and made your way toward her. The people surrounding them, including the farm workers, stepped aside to let you pass.

“Hey,” you said as gently as you could. She was a blonde girl with such delicate beauty that she reminded you of a snowflake. Her bright eyelashes framed her cool-colored eyes, her pale complexion was almost flawless, and her light hair was braided. She looked to be about sixteen, wearing a white jacket and a powder-blue beret. “I’m Y/n. Can we step aside for a moment? We can sit down and wait for your parents to arrive…”

“I am her parent,” the sheriff replied, pointing to himself with his thumb, as if he thought you might have trouble understanding. It surprised you slightly. They looked completely different; he was huge with dark hair, while she was also very tall but petit. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed that JJ and Rossi had already arrived at the scene.

“Well, I still think your daughter should sit down for a moment. She’s very pale and has been through a huge shock. What’s your name?” you asked her.

Her lower lip trembled, she opened her mouth, but no sound came out.

"Charlotte," her father replied. "I need to talk to her myself first. What are you doing here at this hour? It’s barely noon, you should be in school. Skipping classes?!"

"What does that matter right now?" you snapped at him, angry at his lack of empathy towards his own daughter. Charlotte gave you a grateful look. You looked your boss in the eyes. "Now we’re both leaving, and you can think about whether that’s the right tone to use with someone who’s seen something like that..."

True to your words, you led her aside, wrapping your arm around her. You managed to find a secluded spot and sat down on one of the hay bales.

"My dad is pretty strict," the girl explained. "He cares more about my school than about me."

"My dad was exactly the same," you said, though it wasn’t true. Your father didn’t care about you or your education. He didn’t care about anything except work. You lied to make the girl feel like you understood her situation. “But school is the last thing you should be worrying about right now. How are you feeling?”

She shrugged. She had been sitting for about five minutes, and the color was slowly returning to her face.

“I’m… in shock. When I close my eyes, I see it right away, and… and I’m even afraid to blink. How can someone do something like that to another person?”

"I keep asking myself that question," you admitted.

"You're with the FBI, right?"

You nodded. Charlotte fell silent, staring at her hands.

"My dad’s right, I should be in school right now. I came here because I paint. I’m currently working on autumn-themed paintings for a school competition; I needed some inspiration..." The girl sobbed, the horrible sight must have flashed before her eyes.

You put your arm around her, and to distract her from it all, you asked about her passion, painting. She spoke to you in a quiet tone, telling you that she took up art after her mother’s death.

“After that, Dad shut himself off. He’s obsessed with rules, grades, my behavior, school attendance,” she scoffed, playing with her braid. “But he doesn’t even try to understand me, ever. The only person who understands me is…”

She trailed off, looking nervous.

“Someone special?” you suggested with a smile.

She shyly lifted the corners of her mouth.

“You could say that. Just don’t mention it to my dad…”

You made a key-turning gesture near your lips.

“Your secret is safe with me. Well, as long as you tell me a little about this Romeo of yours…”

The topic clearly cheered her up; she seemed less shaken.

“There’s not much to say. Dad would hate him. He’s his complete opposite.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Well, he is very different about the rules…”

This worried you. She seemed like such a polite, well-behaved girl, and you hoped she hadn’t fallen into the wrong crowd. You didn’t want to judge based on such limited information, but your intuition was speaking up again…

You were interrupted by Morgan’s arrival, calling you over for the team meeting. You said goodbye to Charlotte.

“If you need to talk about all this, I’ll be in town for the next few days,” you said, gently patting her shoulder. After a moment’s hesitation, you reached into your coat pocket for a notepad and quickly jotted down your phone number. You folded the note in half and offered it to the girl. You felt you had to show her some support, something she wouldn’t find from her parents. 

 Charlotte smiled at you with genuine gratitude — she seemed really nice, and you regretted that she had to see something like that. 

Arriving at the meeting point, you experienced a sudden shift in atmosphere, from light to serious and tense. You stood between Reid and Prentiss, waiting for what Hotch had to say.

Spencer glanced at you briefly, his eyes gentle, silently asking if everything was okay. You confirmed without words as well. This silent conversation felt almost amusing; without speaking, you both knew exactly what the other intended to say.

Emily's thin eyebrow shot up, but before she could say anything, Hotch spoke up.

“Morgan and Rossi are questioning the farm owner and the workers. They seem unhappy about the police presence, especially the FBI.”

You found it doubtful that these people had anything to do with the murders. Did they really risk hiding their heads at their workplace? In a movie — maybe. In reality—certainly not. And what could their motive be?

“JJ, we’ll need to issue a statement. Journalists are starting to gather, and we don’t want them spreading any misinformation. It’s important that we don’t give our unsub any nicknames. What did you learn from the victims’ families?”

One by one, everyone gave a brief report. You listened with bated breath, hoping for some vital information, but unfortunately, none of your team had discovered anything that could move the case forward. Finally, you summarized the ranger's testimony.

Prentiss looked like she was holding back an explosion. 

“What is all this about?” she finally burst out, throwing her hands up. “Why has the killer, or killers, suddenly changed the location where they’re dumping bodies?”

“Theoretically, we don’t know if they have,” Reid said. “Only heads were found on the farm; we don’t know what happened to the rest. Searches of the forest have just begun.”

“In any case, what’s the point of this charade? Does it thrill them to think they’re inflicting lifelong trauma on some random person?”

“Hotch, what’s next?” you asked, feeling a void in your mind.

“We’ll finish questioning the owner and his workers. Garcia is checking them out now. After that, we’ll wait for the identification of the newly found victims. Without that information, we can’t move forward. “

Your least favorite part of working on a case had arrived—idleness and waiting. Usually, that was when all your adrenaline would drain away, and your suppressed needs would strike back with double force. You were hungry, tired, had a headache, and needed a second coffee. Leaning your head back, exhausted, you suddenly felt someone watching you. The ranger was staring at you, leaning against the hood of his jeep. You signaled Spencer with a nod, and together, you approached him without much enthusiasm. You needed to head back to the ranger's cabin to retrieve the car you’d left there.

“Sick, isn’t it?” James asked, nodding toward the whole farm. “I can’t wrap my head around it. We’re heading back to mine now, right?”

“Just to pick up the car. I have one last question for you.”

You looked at your friend with curiosity, noticing a strange expression on his face, as if he’d suddenly connected some dots.

“In your opinion, as a ranger, would the killer need to know this forest well to dispose of the bodies in these specific locations?”

James hesitated before answering, looking Reid directly in the eye.

“Yes. I think so. It had to be someone who spends a lot of time here. This forest is huge — an outsider wouldn’t go that deep.”

Reid studied him closely. You frowned and walked back to the car. The three of you drove to the ranger’s cabin in complete silence. Fortunately, the police car was still parked exactly where you had left it.

“Will you drive?” Spencer asked, pulling his phone from his pocket. “I need to make a call.”

“Sure,” you replied, taking the keys from him. You got behind the wheel, casting him a curious sidelong glance, intrigued by what he was up to.

“Garcia? Have you finished checking out the farm owner and employees? Okay, but when you're done, could you also check someone out for me?” Spencer pulled the phone away from his ear, looking at you with a questioning expression. “What was the ranger’s last name?”

“You’re kidding,” you snorted. “James Rivas, but…”

“James Rivas,” he relayed to Penelope, gave her a quick goodbye, and ended the call.

Meanwhile, you had already merged onto the main road.

“Reid, it’s not him.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Intuition? Shaman, remember?”

“Well, your intuition isn’t exactly a reliable measure. It’s pretty easy to influence—by, say, sympathy.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Sympathy? The guy’s a jerk, even my intuition can tell.”

Your explanation didn’t seem to convince him at all. You stared at the road for a moment, tapping your nails on the steering wheel. Reid crossed his arms, avoiding looking in your direction. The ranger had clearly gotten under his skin. You hadn’t liked him either, but even so, you thought suspecting him was a waste of time. You weren’t even sure why. You were slowly beginning to form a possible image, a profile of this killer in your mind. It wasn’t worthy of being voiced ye t— too sparse and vague, even to you, with many essential pieces still missing. But it definitely didn’t fit James. Chaotic, you realized that much.

“Do you think if he were our unsub, he would have just answered your question like that? About whether the perpetrator had to know the forest? That alone made him a suspect!”

“His ego wouldn’t let him answer otherwise,” he scoffed at first, then turned serious. “Did you see his reaction when I mentioned finding the seventh body? He tensed up, like he was spooked.”

“Well, I was spooked too. We’ve got a seven-time murderer, a decapitator, on the loose.”

He sighed in resignation, seemingly deciding there was no point arguing with you about it. As you drove, you wondered if you should outright clarify that you weren’t defending James because you liked him or, heaven forbid, found him attractive. But surely Reid didn’t actually think that… right? Then again, you could never be certain what was going on in his mind. It was vast and complex, with thousands of branches reaching off in completely different directions. Impossible to decipher.

You drove in silence, sighing back and forth every so often, as if hoping that these pitiful sounds would eventually prompt the other to speak up or change the subject. At the gas station, he stepped out of the car, and you asked him to get you the largest coffee they had. When he returned, he surprised you by silently handing you a sandwich as well, reminding you just how hungry you actually were.

The rest of the day, you spent with the team back at the pumpkin farm. Garcia had uncovered a very interesting lead. Most of the workers were employed off the books, without contracts, which likely explained the farm owner’s strange behavior. He’d been afraid — rightly so — that it would come to light.

This forced you to take a closer look at the workers, considering them as potential unsubs. But somehow, none of it seemed to connect. A dead end.

J had already given a statement on TV, but word about the victims’ identities still hadn’t come through. Because of this, Hotch decided to let you head back to the hotel early, a small reward for having been dragged out of bed so early that morning.

When he said it, you and Reid exchanged a smile, forgetting your little disagreement. The topic of the ranger never came up again—after all, Penelope hadn’t found anything on him.

You returned to the hotel relatively early in the evening, though with the time of year, it was already completely dark outside. You were utterly exhausted. The fact that you were planning to collapse into bed in your jeans was probably the best proof of that. But just before you did, you remembered you hadn’t called Jeremy since the day before. You hesitated before dialing his number—being in different time zones, it was already very late for him. Then you recalled your brother’s sleep schedule. Back when you’d lived together, he’d often go to bed around the same time you were getting up.

“Have you been wearing that shirt all day?” Reid asked, amused, as you took off your long coat. He was, of course, referring to the shirt’s graphic — a duck armed with a knife.

A smile appeared on your face as you opened your mouth to respond, but then you saw something that rendered you speechless.

“Y/n?”

Exactly eight missed calls from your mother. It wasn’t that alarming — she sometimes had a flair for the dramatic and would call over something as trivial as a broken egg, even though you had made it clear that you didn’t want to maintain contact with her anymore. However, a chill ran down your spine at seeing one missed call from your father.

You stammered, “I’ll be right back,” and headed to the bathroom. Once you closed the door, you leaned against it and dialed your mother’s number. It felt like an eternity waiting for her to pick up. During that time, the gentle movement of your knees turned into a tremor so intense that you had to grasp onto something for support.

“Mom?” you asked when she picked up. “What’s—”

“Finally!” her sobbing came through the line. The sound hit you like a powerful shockwave, leaving you feeling dazed and suspended in a void. “Oh my God, why haven’t you answered your mother all day? Do you have any idea what I’m going through right now? How do I feel? I was the one who found him…

You shook your head, partly in confusion, partly in denial.

“And through all of this, no one, not even your dad had asked how you were feeling! Abandoned by two children, including you, who wouldn’t even answer her calls…”

“Mom,” you barely managed to squeeze out, feeling an unimaginable weight in your chest. “You found who? Where?”

Your mother suddenly began to berate you for the lack of contact, completely ignoring your two questions. She shifted from shattered sobs to pure rage, almost hysteria. She had been diagnosed with bipolar disorder for years, and she approached her treatment carelessly, often forgetting to take her medication. In the face of difficult situations, she reacted in an intense, complicated manner, chaotically swinging from one extreme emotion to another.

Though her broken voice indicated that she, too, needed help, you pulled the phone away from your ear. You couldn’t bear to listen to her, too frightened by the visions that assaulted you. You needed to find out what had happened, and she wasn’t able to give you that information. With a heart-wrenching pain in your chest, you hung up.

With a trembling hand, you barely managed to dial your father’s number.

part 3 coming soon!

tag list: @miriamnox @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @nightfullofparadox

oh and i have one question for you guys, how to connect two parts of a story with each other?? i'm new on tumblr

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masterlist!

SOOOO happy you're here!

hi! i'm jamie, i'm 24 and in the US. i love seeing requests in my inbox so feel free to send one! currently accepting for spencer reid, aaron hotchner, and emily prentiss!! 😍

my “main” blog is @sorryimbeingapillaboutit, I didn’t understand that you can’t follow people from second blogs when I created this one, so if you see likes/follows/asks or anything from that page — That’s-a-me! I’m 99% of the time on this blog though!!

while most of my content is sfw, i will ask minors to stay away :)

my request guidelines

i'd love to hear from you! <3

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Spencer Reid Fics:

wingwoman (angst/ fluff) spencer reid x Fem!BAUReader ~ 5000 words

big hands (angst/fluff) spencer reid x Fem!PlusSize!Reader ~ 1500 words

shaking (angst/fluff) spencer reid x Fem!Reader ~ 2500 words

safer to kiss - part 1 ~ 2800 words - part 2 ~ 3200 words - (angst/fluff) spencer reid x Fem!BAUReader

round table (fluff) spencer reid x gn!reader ~ 1500 words

comfortable (fluff/smut) MDNI! spencer reid x fem!plussize!reader ~ 3600 words

cold feet (literally) (fluff) spencer reid x fem!reader - 1000 words

in the eye of the beholder (fluff) spencer reid x gn!reader ~850 words

Aaron Hotchner Fics:

cream cheese (blurb/fluff) Hotch x gn!reader ~ 500 words

flu season (fluff) hotch x gn!reader ~ 1700 words

look at me (angst) hotch x gn!reader ~ 980 words

hungover (fluff) hotch x fem!reader ~ 1300 words

dance recital (fluff) hotch x mom!reader ~ 1400 words

patience (smutish) hotch x fem!reader ~ 1500 words

dressing up (fluff) hotch x fem!reader ~ 1600 words

dressing down (fluff) hotch x fem!reader ~ 1500 words

obstinate, headstrong girl part 1 ~ 4600 words - part 2 ~3000 words (enemies to lovers) hotch x fem!reader

concrete (flangst) hotch x fem!bau!reader ~ 1400 words

burden (flangst) hotch x fem!reader ~ 1200 words

james taylor (fluff) hotch x fem!reader - 650 words

Emily Prentiss Fics:

anything (flangst) emily prentiss x fem!reader ~ 1400 words

tea (fluff) emily prentiss x fem!reader ~ 1200 words