#Matthew gray gubler x oc

[piqtescue]

this photo is rewiring my brain

[444rockstargf]

"riding the ride." | spencer reid

get free. - lana del rey

⊹₊⋆ synopsis: it was a win-win for you. you could finally shut spencer up, and managed to get a good orgasm too.

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female!reader x spencer

word count: 1.6k

contents: cunnilingus, cum-eating, snowballing (inverted), not proofread

date night. the one night a week where neither of you were working late and finally had the chance unfold in each other’s arms.

as cool breeze blew through the living room window as you flipped through tv channels, spencer’s arm wrapped around your torso as you rested your head on his chest. “what do you feel like watching tonight?” you asked, his thumbs rubbing slow circles onto your flesh. “i don’t mind, baby. i’m not picky.” you nodded, clicking the down button on the remote and landing on a reality show.

spencer hissed and you looked back at him. “what’s the matter?” you asked. “i don’t mind it, but i’m just worried about you. you know i found a really intresting article about reality tv. statistics show that around 47% of people use them as guilty pleasures and 92% of that is the female population who admit that they feel pressure to conform to the unrealistic beauty and relationship standards portrayed in the shows. besides, everything is one-hundred percent staged anyway.”

with each word he spoke, you felt braincells getting killed off in your brain. you nodded, consdiering what he said. “alright then. no reality tv, got it.” you scrolled further down the tv guide, landing on a horror film this time. but he spoke again. “are you sure you wanna choose that, babe? horror movies have been proven to desensitize viewers to violence, major disturbances and other dangers, which may all end up messing up your perception of risks.”

you felt your eye twitching as he droned on. you decided to find something that he couldn’t nitpick and analyze. you click on a weather forecast. boring, monotonous, but no dangers in sight. or so you thought. “did you know tha-” you rolled your eyes, snapping at last. “god, don’t you ever get tired of working that mouth of yours?” 

you squirmed at how provocative the statement came out. surprised at your outburst, spencer smiled proudly. “i have yet to, darling.” his arm tightened around your waist, pulling you in even closer to him. you rose an eyebrow, eyes narrowing at him ever so slightly. “is that a challenge, spence?” he caught a glimpse of the cheeky grin on your face in the corner of his eye. 

as the weather man blabbed on in the background, your face lit up as an idea popped into your head. you clicked the off button on the remote, making the tv screen turn black. you crawled so that you were fully sat on his lap, your hands starting to play with his hair as you whispered in his ear. “i’ve got a better idea for date night…”

spencer reid, the human computer who could sense even the slightest change in atmopshere seemed to be having a malfunction as you gently pressed his face into your chest. his breath heat up, the warmth seeping throug the thin fabric of your tank top. you moved your hips against his lap, taking the air from his lungs. “how about i put that tongue of yours to good use..?”

it was at this moment that he knew he was powerless. his hands were at your waist, clinging to them like he was afraid to let you go. his eyes trailed down to where your two body connected, taking in the sight of your legs in those little pajama shorts. he brought his hand down and began twirling the drawstring between his fingers, gazing up at you with those deep brown eyes. he tugged at the waistband, silently begging for the shorts to come off. you grinned, seeing that he was finally lost for words. “use your words, spence…” you never thought you’d have to tell spencer to speak, but here you were, watching as he struggled to formulate basic english.

he pressed his chin into your soft chest, muttering under his breath. “can you take ‘em off, hon..?” his biceps flxed slightly under his t-shirts as his grip tightened. you dug your thumbs under the waistband of your shorts, giving him a teasing glance of your bare hips and listening to his breath hitch.

you grinned as his eyes widened like saucers at the sight of your panties. “why don’t you lie down for me, spence.” he nodded, following your command in an instant like an obedient puppy. you stood up from the couch, his eyes glued to your body as you finally took off your shorts, letting them fall to the ground before kicking them off your feet.

the tension in the room grew thick enough to cut through as you lowered yourself onto his chest, not wanting to move too fast. spencer was panting like a dog, eyes triling down to where you cunt with covered by that pesky little strip of fabric. he longed to tear it with his teeth, to finally have access to the honey between your legs.

you slowly rose up once again, crawling slowly until you were hovering over his face. spencer’s mouth watered at the area of saturated fabric that was the perfect telltale of your arousal. your hips swayed slightly, hypnotizing him and making that familiar sizzle burn in this grey sweatpants.

a taste of heaven was just a touch away, and he didn’t know how much longer he could wait. you took a deep breath. “a-alright, just lemme know when you’re rea-” he couldn’t bear the torture any longer. he grabbed your ass, tearing off your panties and connecting his lips with your dripping cunt. 

completely taken by surprise, you yelped, gripping the couch cushion as your whole body tensed. he was going at it like a starved dog, his tongue greedily lapping up all your juuices as he tossed the leftover fabric of your panties to the side, his hands kneading the soft flesh of your ass as he flicked his tongue over your puffy clit.

he groaned deeply as he finally tasted you, desperate to have you. his pulsating cock twitched in his pants, begging to be let free. he bucked his hips into the air, moving against anything he could. “you taste so good, baby…” he muttered into your pussy, moving a hand down to rub quiet circles on your clit.

you tossed your head back in pleasure, grinding against his face as he found the perfect rhythm between his tongue and his fingers. he jutted his tongue in and out of your hole, hasilty bringing a hand down to his sweatpants and needily palming himself through the plush fabric. the contact made his vision go starry, the abundance of pleasure doing wonderful things to his head.

he snaked his hand into his pants, whipping out his precum-glazed cock. the tip was red and swollen from being neglected for so long. he gave himself a few lazy strokes, more focused on your right then than anything else. 

his tongue ventured deep inside of your hole, desperate to taste every fold and crevice. you were sure that he wasn’t even breathing at this point. he was completely drunk off the taste of your body. he pumped his cock at a more rapid pace, feeding his moans into your core and sending powerful vibrations through you.

the base of his hand slapped against his balls each time he went back down, his thumb ghosting against his tip when he came back up again. the living room filled with the succulent noises of him devouring you like your were his last meal.

your back arched as he suckled your hard pearl between his lips. you attempted to rise up from his face to let him have a breath of air, but he gripped you even tighter. “c’mon baby, i’m not done yet…” he had your cum pouring down his neck, grool bubbling from his lips and nostrils. he was making an absolute mess of you, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

his hips violently thrusted into his fist as the sounds of your moans and whimpers fueled his desire even more. he growled into you, eating you up like a starved predator who had finally caught its prey. your legs clenched aorund his head, nearly suffocating him. you rode his face rapidly, tits bouncing through your tank top.

the sight from above made him run wild. he moved his hand from your hip, sneaking it under your shirt and starting to knead your breasts, toying with your hard nipples.

you were so close to reaching such a satisfying climax. every nerve in your body was responding to his intimate touch, never wanting him to stop. your hands grabbed his hair as the band in your stomach snapped, utnring you into a screamed mess as thick white liquid cascaded out of your pussy.

he hungrily lapped up every last drop, not wanting to let a single drop go to waste. his cock had ejaculated hot strings of cum so far that they had hit your back, painting you like a piece of art. he took his time finished you off like the last scoop of a sweet dessert before finally letting you off his face. as you got back to your feet, he sat up and pulled you into a sloppy kiss, feeding your cum into your mouth and groaning softly. “...see how good you taste, my love..?”

your lips began to swell at how deeply he took you in, the heat in your body reaching an all time high. after several long minutes, he pulled away from you, a string of saliva connecting you two before breaking. he looked down, seeing the cummy mess on his t-shirt. but it was nothing compared to what streamed down his neck. you giggled softly, patting him on the cheek. “such a messy boy…”

he stood up from the couch, picking up your shorts for you. “how about we take this date night to the shower? would you like that, baby?” you smiled, nodding as he wrapped his arm around your shoulder. he walked away with you, a smle on his face and a sticky mess flowing down your inner thighs.

author's note: thank you everyone for 1,000 followers! never thought i'd live to see the daythat i reach my longest goaal

[hornyramostan]

matthew gray gubler with puppies

[mariasont]

Our Minds Entwined-----------------------

ch 1, ch 2, ch 3, ch 4, ch 5, ch 6, ch 7, ch 8, ch 9

MDNI----------------------------------------------------------------

pairings: aaron hotchner x oc x spencer reid

summary: in which jason gideon's daughter joins the fbi as the newest, brightest member

warnings: implied smut, evelyn annoying the fuck out of hotch

Chapter Eight:

The coffee machine gurgled in the quiet of the break room as Evelyn filled her cup, her hands carefully cradling her favorite pink mug as the steam raised in delicate swirls. The rich aroma of the freshly brewed substance wafted through the air, Evelyn was moments from savoring her first sip when Spencer made his entrance. 

He moved with an awkward grace, his lean frame wrapped in a sweater, the morning light casting a scholarly glow on his thoughtful expression. Evelyn took a moment, as she often did, to admire the earnest curiosity etched into his features. She pivoted gracefully, a playful glint in her eye, the corners crinkling in silent laughter.

"Morning, Dr. Reid," she chimed. "Joining me for the most important meal of the day?"

Spencer offered a small, hesitant grin, casting a wary glance over his shoulder as if anticipating an unwelcome audience. When he turned back, finding the coast clear, his gaze couldn't help but sweep over her, a slow, involuntary trail from her eyes down to her heels and back up again.

"Did you know caffeine can actually increase cortisol levels?" Spencer inquired, his tone shifting to that of a lecturer as he warmed to the subject. "Cortisol is secreted by the adrenal glands and plays a critical role in regulating various bodily functions. While it's essential for survival, elevated cortisol over prolonged periods can lead to a host of issues. So, while that cup of coffee might seem like a good idea, it's worth considering the potential endocrine implications."

Evelyn closed the distance between them with a playful step, her eyes gleaming. "I love when you talk nerdy to me, Dr. Reid," she started. "But if you deprive me of my morning coffee, I won't be the only ones suffering the consequences."

Spencer's hand reaches out, almost involuntarily giving Evelyn's ass a quick, teasing tap. She arched an eyebrow, her lips curving into a feigned expression of shock. 

"In the workplace, Dr. Reid?" Evelyn chided, her voice laced with mock scandal.

Spencer's chuckle was a soft counterpart to the florescent hum of the break room. Evelyn stood there, the light catching the subtle highlights in her hair, her smartly tailored suit accentuating her figure.

"Speaking of which, and presuming your neurons are adequately myelinated for the day, how about those ground rules?" Spencer's question came with a half-smile.

"I'm going to pretend for a second that myelinated is part of my daily vocabulary," Evelyn retorted with a playful roll of her eyes. "Upstairs is all clear," she tapped her temple for emphasis before taking another step towards the genius, "but after last night, I can't say the same for downstairs."

Spencer cleared his throat, a faint blush creeping up his neck as memories of the previous night flickered through his mind. "Don't start with me."

"Me? Start with you? Never," she said, her eyes dancing with humor. "But in all seriousness. This," she gestured between them, "stays between us. We can't do anything here."

She straightened up, her expression mock serious. "I'm already juggling enough with these legacy rumors. If I start adding 'sleeping with my mentor' to my resume, I'll need to write a survival guide."

Spencer's response was quick. "I can do that," he said, his eyes accusing. "As long as you behave."

"I'm always on my best behavior, sir," she declared with a sly smile, her voice trailing off as she sauntered out of the break room, "my place or yours tonight?"

Spencer's hand instinctively went to the bridge of his nose, squeezing gently as if to ward off an impending headache, the universal gesture of a man both charmed and utterly undone by the woman before him.

--

The tech lab was alive with whirring machines and the subtle glow of displays. Evelyn glided into the room, her steps light and her grin spreading. 

The hum of computers and the soft glow of screens set the backdrop as Evelyn breezed into the tech lab, her steps light and her smile wide. She found Garcia, the queen of all things digital, her dominion sprawling before her in an array of flickering pixels and streaming data.

"Hey, P! Need your magic fingers to trace a number for me. And maybe sprinkle a little of that fairy dust to make the results come faster." Evelyn says with a lighthearted twinkle.

With a flourish, Garcia twirled in her chair, her clothes a riot of color that defied that room's monochrome sterility. She peered at Evelyn over the top of her pink-rimmed glasses, her lips curling into a knowing smirk.

"Sweetie, you're radiating more energy than my entire tech setup. What's got you bouncing off the walls? Extra shot of your coffee or just high on life?" Penlope questioned, her voice laced with humor as she watched Evelyn practically vibrating through the room.

"What? No, I'm not. It's just a good day, that's all," Evelyn laughed, the sound bubbling up effortlessly.

Garcia tilted forward, a teasing glint in her gaze. "Uh-huh. You can't fool me, Miss Sunshine. You've got that 'I just got laid' glow," she pushed, "spill it. Who's the lucky guy?"

"Garcia, quit it," she giggled, brushing off the insinuation with a wave of her hand. "There's no guy. Just... work stuff, you know?"

But Garcia remained skeptical, playfully wagging a finger bedecked with a glittering ring. "Oh, come on! You've got that look. The one that says, 'I did not get my eight hours, but boy, was it worth it.'"

Laughter spilled from Evelyn, a rich sound that reverberated against the walls. "Seriously, Penelope, drop it. I'm just happy. Can't a girl have a good day without an interrogation?"

Garcia shot her a knowing glance, but she conceded with an exaggerated sigh. "Alright, alright. I'll let you off the hook... for now. But I've got my eye on you. Now what's this number you need traced?"

Evelyn passed a slip of paper across the table, her grin unwavering. She offered a swift thanks and retreated to the bustling bullpen. 

Evelyn's desk was a splash of color in the otherwise muted tones of the bullpen. Pink post-its fluttered like flags, each scrawled with affirmations and tiny tributes to her teammates. Amidst this cheerful chaos, Hotch stood, his hands clasped behind him as he surveyed the landscape of girlish whimsy.

At the sight, Evelyn's steps hastened, she darted forward to intercept his gaze, positioning herself squarely before him. "Hotch, sir, hi! Can I help you with something?"

Hotch met her gaze, his eyebrow lifted in mild inquiry, the shadow of a smile on his face. "I was looking for the Simmons report. You were supposed to turn in it yesterday." He tried to peer around her, amusement flickering in his eyes at the sight of her cluttered workspace. 

His eyes settled on the pen holder, an extravagant display of sparkle and faux gems. He remarked with dry wit, "Does that... fit the bureau's decor standards?"

Evelyn's smile was unapologetic as she shrugged lightly. "Mm, probably not. But it brightens up the place don't you think?" She rifled through the stack of papers, her face a canvas of sheepish charm. "About that report... I, uh, totally forgot. But it will be done, pinky promise."

She extended her pinky towards him. Hotch regarded the small gesture, his features betraying no reaction. A smile played at the corners of his mouth, but his stance was unwavering. "I'm not going to do that," he declared, eyes flicking to her upheld finger. "I expect the report on my desk by the end of the day."

Evelyn snapped to attention, grin never faltering. "Aye, aye, captain," she chimed cheerfully. "You'll have it before you can say 'bureaucracy'."

With a parting nod, he moved back to his office. In the corner, Morgan, JJ, and Prentiss stood in a tight knot, their quiet conversation floating in the air near the water cooler. 

"There's no way," Morgan asserted, his head moving in a firm denial, his eyes reflecting staunch disbelief.

"I told you soooo," Prentiss crooned, her voice dripping in smug satisfaction.

"Huh?" Evelyn's question hung in the air as she swiveled towards the group, her eyebrow arching in a silent demand for clarity. "What are you talking about?" 

"There's an ongoing bet to see how long it'll take you to really get in trouble with Hotch," JJ confesses, her grin spreading as she looked towards the other.

Evelyn's voice rose in protest. "What? I do get in trouble!" she insisted. "Did you not just see that? Or when I went rogue on my first takedown?"

Prentiss let out a soft chuckle, her eyes meeting Morgan's knowingly. "Please that was 'Evie trouble.' It's like being scolded by a teddy bear."

"And what does that even mean?" Evelyn asked, her laughter rising through the room as she shook her head.

"Baby girl, your definition of trouble with Hotch is a lot different than ours," Morgan said with a playful wag of his finger. "You barely get a slap on the wrist, while we'd get the whole paddle," he teased.

"That is so not true!" Evelyn's giggle bubbled up uncontrollably, her shoulders bouncing with each note of disbelief. She playfully rolled her eyes, dismissing the notion with a shake of her head.

As if summoned by the very topic, Rossi and Reid appeared in the doorway. They caught the end of the conversation and, with impeccable timing, chimed in together, "It's true."

"If I forgot my paperwork, I'm pretty sure I'd be relegated to coffee duty for a month--minimum," Spencer said as he gave a small, resigned shrug. 

"I'll have you know, I can get into trouble," she declared, puffing up in feigned offense. "I'm always getting under Hotch's skin."

Skepticism was written all over their faces, each look a playful jab at the very ideas. "Oh, we're sure you're a regular rebel," Morgan said, his tone heavy with irony.

"Yeah, right. They day you get a real scolding is the day I'll dye my hair pink," Prentiss declared, her laughter softening the edges of her sarcasm.

"And I'll wear a feather boa to work," Rossi added, the twinkle in his eyes suggesting he found the image as ludicrous as it sounded. 

"Statistically speaking, Evelyn, the probability of you inciting Hotch's ire is remarkably low," Spencer articulated, his brows furrowing in thought. "Considering the standard deviation of workplace interactions, it's more probably likely for an asteroid to graze our atmosphere."

Evelyn rolls her eyes, taking their words as a challenge. "We'll see about that."

Noon struck, and with it, a cast of golden rays pierced through the blinds of Hotch's office, painting the surfaces with a light hue of daylight. Evelyn, her arms cradling a stack of tardy documents, sauntered into the room. Her hair, a cascade of chestnut waves, framed her face, and her eyes, sharp as flint, scanned the room.

"Special delivery!" The announcement echoed off the walls, as Evelyn, framed by the doorway, held the papers aloft like a trophy. "The prodigal paperwork returns." Her smile was a bright flash in the subdued light.

The click of the mouse ceased as Hotch's gaze lifted slowly from the computer, his face betraying nothing of his thoughts. "Thank you, Evelyn," he uttered, each word measured. "I was beginning to think it had gone into witness protection."

The room was filled with the sound of Evelyn's giggle as she perched against the doorframe. Her smirk was a playful twist of her full, rose-tinted lips. "Oh, you know me. I like to keep things interesting. Life's too short for bureaucracy. "

Hotch's fingers moved methodically through the stack, each page turning with a crisp snap. His eyes, sharp and calculating, never strayed as he spoke. "Interesting isn't quite the Bureau's motto. We prefer efficiency."

"And yet, here I am, brightening your day with my inefficiency," she teased.

The folder landed softly on the desk as Hotch straightened, his gaze piercing as it met Evelyn's. "Evelyn, is there something else you needed?"

"Just checking on my favorite unit chief," she declared with a shrug, "making sure you're not bored under a mountain of dullness."

Hotch's eyes took on a sharper focus, an almost accusatory gaze. "I'm quite capable of digging myself out, thank you," he stated, the hint of a smile lurking beneath his serious expression. "Now, if there's nothing else, I have work to do."

Evelyn's smirk was unwavering, a silent ally as she acknowledged his words with a graceful nod. "Of course, sir. Duty calls."

--

The bullpen thrummed with life, agents weaving through the maze of desks, papers shuffled, and phones rang, the air buzzing with the collective focus. Evelyn's presence was a silent counterpoint, a different mission in mind. Her fingers sifted across the documents in front of her. With a feigned slip of the hand, she accidentally exchanged the contents of two folders. As she handed Hotch the Thompson report, masquerading as the Henderson case, she could barely contain her amusement.

Evelyn glanced up at Hotch with feigned surprise, her eyes wide with mock innocence. "Oh, did those get mixed up? That's totally on me," she said, her voice dripping with faux contrition as she sat perched on the edge of her chair.

Hotch's hand clasped around the correct folder, his gaze drifting across Evelyn's features, a wordless pause hanging in the air. It was a look that lingered just a beat too long before he finally looked away.

With a serene composure, Hotch handed back the folder, his words deliberate and clear. "Please double-check your work in the future." 

"Absolutely, won't happen again, sir," Evelyn responded.

Watching Hotch disappear behind his office door, Prentiss and JJ, couldn't help but shake their heads. "You are playing with fire."

With a playful toss of her hair, Evelyn responded, "It's what I do best." Her wink sailed across the room to the women as she swiveled back to her desk.

Later, she sent Hotch on a wild goose chase for a non-existent file. Hotch reappeared, the absence of the file evident in his empty hands and the slight crease of annoyance on his brow. His irritation was barely veiled by his professional composure and the sight stirred a warmth across her cheeks and spread through her. It was as if the air had thickened, her body responding with a clench of her thighs. 

Evelyn snapped her attention back to her task, letting out an exaggerated gasp, her eyes widening with feigned realization.

Evelyn's eyes lifted to meet Hotch's, a flutter of her lashes accentuating her apology. "Oh, my mistake. It's actually for next week's briefing. My apologies, sir."

A collective gaze tracked Hotch, the team's faces etched with a blend admiration and disbelief at the boldness. Hotch's head shook slightly as he closed the door behind him. 

With a subtle lean, Morgan caught Rossi's attention, a smirk playing on his lips. "You seeing this, Rossi?" he asked, his voice low, carrying the weight of disbelief.

"Hard to miss," Rossi mused, "she's got guts, I'll give her that," he admitted, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a half-smile, "but she's doing a great job of proving our point."

"Hey," Evelyn's whisper was a soft accusation, a conspiratorial murmur that barely reached between the three of them. "Just you wait, I've got more up my sleeve."

With a gentle head shake that sent his curls swaying, Spencer loomed over her desk. "At this rate," he said, looking down at her with an amused glint in his eye, "you're going to need your own section in the employee handbook."

--

The bullpen fell into an abrupt hush, the agents' heads turning as Hotch's commanding tone sliced through the idle banter. Without missing a beat, he looked eyes with Evelyn. "Gideon, my office. Now."

The team's eyes flickered from one to another, the collective oooh sounding more like a drawn-out sigh as Evelyn got to her feet. The air seemed to still as she offered a nod, her face the picture of innocence. With a gentle tilt of her head, she responded sweetly. "Of course, sir."

Hotch stood behind his desk, the stern set of his jaw softening despite his best efforts. His words came with struggle, weighted with disappointment rather than anger. "This isn't like you, Evelyn. Misplacing evidence is a serious offense."

With eyes wide and innocent, Evelyn held her poise, her hands neatly folded in front of her. "I'm so sorry, sir. It won't happen again."

The room felt smaller as Hotch sighed, his authoritative demeanor dissolving into a softer, more approachable one. His voice lowered, tinged with an unexpected warmth. "What's going on with you today?"

"Hotch," Evelyn burst out, the playful strain in her voice belying the seriousness of her words. "I've been an absolute terror today--don't I deserve a better scolding that that? Everyone thinks you go easy on me."

Hotch's eyes sharpened, the hint of annoyance seeping through his demeanor. "So that's what this has been about? You've been testing my patience all day because of what--some office wager?"

Evelyn watched, a spark of mischief in her eyes as Hotch's composure began to fray. The fabric of his suit jacket tensed, subtly outlining the firm set of his shoulders. His jaw worked silently, a clear sign of his growing irritation, a detail she found inexplicably enthralling. 

"See, right there!" she exclaimed, her finger jabbing the air with theatrical emphasis. "That's what I'm talking about--that's the look!"

A barely perceptible quirk of his lips betrayed him. "You're unbelievable."

Evelyn's eyes sparkled with sheer desperation shimmering within. "Hotch, can you please--pretty please--pretend to yell at me? I need to win this bet."

"At this point, Evelyn, I don't think I need to pretend."

She offered him a pout, her lower lip protruding just so, a silent plea.

He exhaled a deep sigh, a reluctant white flag. "Fine. Shut the door."

"Thank you, thank you!" Evelyn sang out, her mind already racing ahead. "Oh, wait, I need to look scared, right?" She whirled around, her hand hovering over the door handle as she caught the team's collective gaze, wide and expectant, peering through the blinds.

Hotch positioned himself with his back to the window, his silhouette casting a commanding shadow across the room. With a flourish, he gestured towards the scattered paperwork on his desk, his voice booming just enough to be heard through the glass.

Evelyn's lip caught between her teeth, an effort to rein in the giggles that bubbled over. Her shoulders trembled, betraying her struggle as she dipped her head, a strategic move to conceal from the curious glances beyond the glass.

"Evelyn, you're terrible at this."

"I-I know, I'm sorry," she sputtered between fits of laughter. "But I think they bought it."

"I doubt it."

"You're the best boss ever, Hotch," Evelyn beamed.

Hotch's head gave a slow shake, the barest hint of a smile playing at the edges of his mouth.

"Too much if I cry on the way out?" she teased, feigning distress as she inched towards the door.

"Just go, Agent."

--

The day was winding down with the low hum of the office, Evelyn glided through the bullpen, her smirk as loud as the click of her heels. She tossed a bag onto Prentiss's desk, the contents clicking softly. The bag, clear and plastic, revealed the pink hair dye inside.

Evelyn leaned closer, the bag crinkling between them. "For your new look, Em," she teased with a wink. "I want to see a brand-new you by tomorrow."

Prentiss examined the dye, eyebrow raised in playful defiance. "Dream on, Evie," she chuckled. "This going in your Secret Santa gift."

Next the feather boa found its new home around Rossi's neck, courtesy of Evelyn's hands. "This is non-negotiable, Rossi," she declared. "Your suit needs a touch of pizzazz."

"But let's be real, Evie," Morgan chuckled. "You didn't really win the bet, did you?"

Evelyn gasped, her hand flying to her chest. "Whaaaatt?" she uttered. "I have absolutely no idea what you're implying."

"Oh, come on," Emily scoffed, "we all know what Hotch looks like when he's chewing someone out. And that, my friend, was a performance worthy of an Oscar."

Evelyn's eyes widened, her act faltering under the team's knowing looks. "Oh! You know, I-I totally forgot, I have that thing I was totally supposed to do."

--

Evelyn was in her own world, surrounded by the familiar end-of-day bustle. As she slid her laptop into its case, her phone chimed--her eyes lit up, a smile curving subtly as she read the message from Spencer: My place. 8 pm.

Evelyn's gaze lifted, catching Spencer's eye across the room, a knowing look shared between them. She typed her response with haste: I'll be there. No sooner had she done so than Hotch's voice sliced through the buzz of the office. "Evelyn, my office."

She breezed in, her retort poised on her lips. "You didn't call me in here to actually yell at me, did you? Because, despite popular belief, I'm about as good with confrontation as a cat is with a bathtub. I'd probably start crying, it'd be this whole thing, and--"

"Evelyn." Hotch's voice was firm, a verbal full stop that demanded attention.

"Right. What's up?"

"Miami. Next week. A conference on behavior analysis," he began. "I want you there, presenting your research on the correlation between language patterns and criminal behavior."

"A paid trip to the beach? Count me in!" Evelyn squealed.

Hotch's reply came as a dry gust. "This is a business trip, Evelyn. Not a vacation."

She nodded, her grin undiminished. "Sorry, what? My mind's already sunbathing in Miami," she teased, twirling on her heel.

"Oh, and Evelyn?"

"Mhm?"

"The team's right," he confessed. "Don't let it go to your head."

next

taglist: @nonamevenus@aceofspades190

[godsfavdarling]

Keep Holding On

(set between seasons 10-11 at the beginning, later includes the events of season 12-15) wattpad, Ao3

Molly is an elementary school teacher with a simple, fulfilling life. Her romantic life, though, remains stagnant, lacking any signs of flourishing, as she faces continuous disappointments in her pursuit of love. However, a chance encounter with Spencer, a sweet and gentle genius, might just be the catalyst for a change in her romantic fortunes.

All of my works include mature content and eventual smut. my masterlist

I'm not great at writing warnings, but I always try to be clear when there's sexual content. If you think I missed something, please tell me.

there's 45 chapters (around 92k words)

chapter 01

chapter 02

chapter 03

chapter 04

chapter 05

chapter 06

chapter 07

chapter 08

chapter 09

chapter 10

chapter 11

chapter 12

chapter 13

chapter 14

chapter 15

chapter 16

chapter 17

chapter 18

chapter 19

chapter 20

chapter 21

chapter 22

chapter 23

chapter 24

chapter 25

chapter 26

chapter 27

chapter 28

chapter 29

chapter 30

chapter 31

chapter 32

chapter 33

chapter 34

chapter 35

chapter 36

chapter 37

chapter 38

chapter 39

chapter 40

chapter 41

chapter 42

chapter 43

chapter 44

epilogue

here's the poster. i'm too proud of it not to post it

[uranometrias]

published a spencer fic on wattpad && im so excited to see it come to life!!

[med-ex]

so i did a thing- introducing Spencer Reid Mojave Style™️

[wrenreid]

Better Off Broken PART TWO

this is the second and final part to better off broken, so click the link to read that first

synopsis: Spencer Reid finally gets a chance to meet his little boy’s teacher after always being away on a case for all the other opportunities. Though, the single father Dr. Reid was not expecting his son’s kindergarten teacher to be a charming young woman who might possibly make him forget the vow he took to swear off romantic involvements. (dual point of view). (not edited so excuse errors)

content warnings: past relationship trauma, a little bit of self deprecation, 18+ scenes, fluff…

Spencer and I have been texting quite a bit lately. It’s usually just to catch up and talk about Atlas, but it’s still nice.

I want to ask him out on a real date, but I’m not even sure how I would go about that. We’ve only known each other a month and a half, and I don’t even know if he feels the same way I do. I’m not sure if I want to know.

If I don’t know how he feels, I can keep this little fantasy in my head where we’re secretly pining after each other.

But every time we text or he comes into my classroom when he’s picking Atlas up (which has only been twice, but it still happened), I think about asking him out, just ripping the bandaid off.

I feel something between us, a type of connection, but I don’t know if he feels it too. We get a little flirty sometimes (or at least I think it’s flirty), but it never goes past that. It’s always just a few smiles and some slightly suggestive - not in a sexual way - words, but never more than that.

The Valentine’s day party is coming up, and Spencer has already told me he’ll be there. I’m excited to see him again, but I worry that I’ll make it obvious that I like him. Although, maybe I should make it obvious. Maybe I should ask him out that day. It would be pretty ballsy. I think I’m just going to fucking do it.

—————

“Are you excited for the Valentine’s day party, Atlas?” I ask my son as I lace up my red converse.

He’s already dressed and waiting for me by the door, per usual. He nods, checking his watch. This kid is so much like me, it’s scary.

“Since it’s not until later, I’ll drop you off then I’m going to pick up some supplies just in case Ms. Y/n needs more, okay?”

“Okay,” Atlas says with one nod of his head.

“You’re a man of many words, A,” I chuckle softly, a bright smile on my face. I adore this little boy with every ounce of my being.

Atlas waits for me to finish getting ready then he grabs my hand and we head down to my car. Eventually, I’ll get us a house. I’ve been saving half of my paycheck every month for things like that. Maybe I’ll buy a house in the suburbs close to the school. I think Atlas would like to have a backyard to himself. Not that he’s the type of kid to play outside in the dirt, but he likes to read outside and listen to the birds chirp.

I convinced Atlas to wear a red button up today just to be a little festive. He agreed even though he usually wears blue on Tuesdays.

I drive him to school and make sure he gets to the building okay before I head to the store. I’ve never stepped foot in a Hobby Lobby, but I want to help Y/n just in case she needs it.

I grab a bunch of little Valentine’s day decorations for the kids to put on their boxes. I definitely look silly doing this, but I don’t mind.

“These for anyone special?” The young lady at the register asks me as she scans the items.

“I-uh no. They’re for my son’s class,” I say, but my cheeks turn the color of the red hearts. They’re technically for Y/n, and she is someone special. But I barely admit that to myself, let alone out loud.

“You’re a dad? There’s no way, you look so young,” she chuckles softly, twirling her hair around her finger.

She’s flirting with me. I used to not be able to detect things like that, but I’ve gotten better at reading people. Being a behavioral analyst helped with that.

“Thanks,” I say nonchalantly and pay for the decorations. I leave quickly then head to the grocery store to get some cookies for the class.

Eventually, it’s time to head to the school for the party. I’m one of the first parents there.

“Dr. Reid,” Y/n smiles and takes the box of cookies I bought. “You are just a helpful man, huh?”

I grin softly. “I do the best I can.”

“Nice tie,” she looks up at me, taking my pink tie in her hand. I resist the urge to tell her to pool me down by it then kiss her right then and there. Good thing I’m a professional at self control now.

“Thank you,” I chuckle slightly.

Eventually, all the parents that could make it are here and we start helping the kids decorate their card boxes.

Atlas and I made cards last night for all his classmates. We put little heart shaped suckers into the animal themed Valentine’s Day cards.

It takes nearly two hours for all the kids to finish decorating their boxes, the classroom is a mess of paper, glitter glue, felt hearts, and more. The kids go around, slipping their cards into everyone’s boxes.

Atlas seems to be having a good time. He decorated his box as neatly as he could. He’s very particular about things.

Eventually, the kids clean up a little bit and school is let out. The parents say goodbye to Ms. Y/n and the other parents, and it’s just me, Atlas, and Y/n in here.

“The parties always make my room a wreck,” she laughs softly, brushing her hair out of her face.

“We can help clean up,” I say.

“You don’t have to do that. I’ve got this,” she assures me.

“Hmm. Nope. I think we’re going to help. Aren’t we, Atlas?”

My son nods. “Mhm.”

Y/n chuckles, shaking her head. God, I’ve got to stop staring at her.

“Fine, but no complaining since you wanted this, Dr. Reid,” she points an accusing finger at me.

I raise my hands in the air innocently. “Yes ma’am.”

Atlas and I help her clean up for at least half an hour. Kids are messy.

“Thank you so much,” Y/n sighs, tossing her hair out of her face. “You’re an angel.”

Little does she know she looks like an angel, and I’d like her to show me heaven for a night.

I blush, and look down at my shoes. “I’m always happy to help.”

“Atlas did you have fun?” She asks.

“Yes ma’am,” he nods, a slight smile on his face. He’s holding his decorated box.

She smiles at him. “Good!” Then she turns her attention back to me. “I have something for you.”

“For me?” I raise my eyebrows.

“Mhm. But you’re not allowed to look at it until you get home.”

“Well, now I’m intrigued,” I chuckle.

“No cheating, doc.” She grabs something from her desk then slips it into my front pocket.

I can’t help but notice the smell of her hair and tingle at her touch, even if it was through clothes. It’s been way too long since I’ve been touched. Lily was the last person I even kissed.

And as much as I want to pull Y/n into me right now, I have a promise to keep. A promise to myself and to my son.

“Do not open it until you’re home,” she says again, stern voiced.

“Okay, okay,” I laugh softly.

She grins up at me. “Drive safe.”

“You too. Are you leaving right now, we can walk you out?”

“No, I’ve got to do some lesson planning. But thank you for the offer,” Y/n says sweetly.

Atlas and I make it home about fifteen minutes later, and he sits down on the couch with a book.

“What are you thinking for dinner, bud?” I ask him, looking in the fridge for what I could cook later.

“Spaghetti,” he tells me. “What did the note say?”

“Note?” I know what he’s talking about, but for some reason I feel the need for him to clarify.

“From Ms. Y/n.”

“I haven’t read it yet,” I tell him.

“She said to open it when you get home. We’re home.”

I laugh a little. He’s a very straight forward young man.

“I’ll open later, buddy,” I say, looking over at him sitting on the couch. Well, I look at the back of his head.

I take the beef out of the freezer for it to thaw then join my son on the couch. The note in my pocket is burning a hole through the fabric of my pants. I’m pretty certain I have an idea of what it says, and I’m not ready to reject her.

After dinner, while Atlas is in the shower - he showers on his own, but keeps the door open so I can hear if he needs me - I take the note out of my pocket. I unfold it and my heart both flutters and drops at the same time.

It doesn’t take me long to decipher the “code” of the note. She wrote the words “Will you go on a date with me?” using elements from the period table and only putting their atomic mass. She’s definitely using my love for chemistry to win me over.

It’s the cheesiest, most nerdy Valentine’s Day card I’ve ever seen. I would absolutely love it if six years ago I didn’t swear off relationships and dating. I do absolutely love it actually, but I can’t agree to what it asks.

As much as I want to ignore it and pretend like she didn’t ask me this question, I know I have to let her down sooner than later. It’s the gentlemanly thing to do.

After I get Atlas to bed and I’m in my pjs, I call her. My stomach is knotted tightly. I hate myself for this.

—————

“Spencer, hey!” I answer the phone once I see his contact pop up on my screen. “You must’ve read the note.”

“I did,” he admits, but the tone in his voice makes me want to figure out a way to take the note back through the screen.

“And?” I question, my intestines tying themselves in knots.

He sighs. Shit. “Y/n… I- I can’t.”

“Right,” I laugh awkwardly. “You know, just- uh forget I asked. Which I guess technically I didn’t ask, the note did.” More awkward laughs spill out of me. “Anyway…”

“It’s not as if I don’t want to. I just can’t. I hope you understand?”

“Yeah, no, sure. Totally,” I ramble. Oh my God what am I saying? “It’s all good.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, and it makes me want to slam my head into the headboard behind me.

“No!” I practically yell into his ear. “No worries. It’s okay.”

“Okay…”

“It’s getting late, huh? I should probably go to bed. Goodnight.” I hang up before he can even get the ‘G’ sound out in response.

Embarrassing. As. Fuck.

How the hell am I going to see him again and not melt into a puddle of humiliation right in the spot?

And what the fuck does he mean by he ‘can’t’? He said it’s not that he doesn’t want to. So he wants to, but he can’t? What does he have a girlfriend I don’t know about? I feel like I would know if he did.

In my head, before I have him the note, this went a lot better. He got home and read it then called me right away with a date and a time he’d pick me up. I’d wear a pretty dress, one that I haven’t been able to wear in forever because I haven’t had an occasion to do so. He would wear a suit like he was the first time I met him. We’d both agree to not have sex because it’s too soon, but he’d kiss me at the doorstep, maybe for a little too long.

But movies, books, and tv are fucking liars because instead of that, I got a “I can’t.” What the hell kind of story is this?

I lean back into my bed and let out a dramatic sigh. I shouldn’t have asked him out. We could’ve just stayed friends.

I just thought I wasn’t alone in the attraction. I thought he felt something too. Apparently I am really bad at reading people. Good think he’s the profiler, and I’m not.

But hey, if I ruined our friendship at least it wasn’t a long standing one. We’ve only been friends for almost two months.

Still, I’ll be sad to see him go. He’s nice to talk to. He’s smart, intimidatingly so, and he’s the most gentlemanly person I’ve ever met. Every time we talk, he asks how I’m doing, and I know it’s not just a formality, he genuinely cares. And hell, he’s not a bad sight to look at. Okay, he’s a very pleasing sight to look at.

Maybe I was mistaking friendly feelings for the romantic kind, but we’ve been flirting for at least a month, so I thought we shared a mutual liking/attraction to each other.

Perhaps he’s the type to flirt with people and it mean nothing. Maybe he’s just one of those guys who’s friendly and accidentally flirts. I may never know because the only time I’ve seen him interact with other women was in the classroom, and he obviously wasn’t flirting with the moms.

But in order to not lose our friendship, I can pretend like I wasn’t embarrassed out of my mind as long as he can pretend I never asked him out. It can just be something we sweep under the rug and leave there to suffocate.

The next few weeks are still awkward, but Spencer and I still talk, well text. Written communication is much less confrontational than verbal.

Spencer: Do you want to grab lunch on Saturday? I need to talk to you.

Oh fuck, here we go. The awkward “You’ve ruined our friendship, and it’s not the same anymore” talk. I know this one all too well because my I had to have it with one of my old best friends.

We were friends for years and years, then out of the blue, he kissed me. Honestly, I always thought he was gay because he never had a girlfriend, but apparently it was because he liked me - or was in love with me as he claimed.

But we were best friends, and I couldn’t see him as anything else. He made a point to not talk to me after I rejected his kiss, and if we did talk, it was full of short, choppy sentences on his end.

Eventually, I had to give him the aforementioned talk. It was painful for both sides.

And now I feel it coming from Spencer.

Good thing Spring Break is now approaching, and I won’t have to face him or Atlas for a whole week, not that any of this has to do with Atlas.

“Y/n,” Spencer starts. His sitting across from me at the cafe we chose to have lunch at. He looks amazing in the sweater he’s wearing, and I really wish I could put a bag over his head so I couldn’t see him; but then again I’d still see his body and his body is just as pretty as his face.

“Spencer,” I say awkwardly, trying to force out a little laugh.

He starts to talk at the same time I’m trying to say something else.

“Go ahead,” he says. Always the gentleman.

“No, you go,” I insist. “You said we need to talk, so you can talk.”

He sighs softly, some of his hair blowing back from the air. “I’m sorry.”

This time I do laugh a little. “You’re sorry? Sorry for what?”

“I’m sorry I made this so weird.”

“You made this weird? I’m the one who asked you out. If anyone made it weird, it’s me,” I say with another chuckle.

This time he joins me in the soft laugh. Spencer shakes his head. “No, no. You didn’t. I just didn’t know how to handle things after that. It’s on me for being immature about it.”

Stop making me fall for you, you asshat. “It’s not big deal. Really,” I say with an assuring smile.

He smiles back, and I’m pretty sure I could be blinded by that pretty of a sight. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” I nod. “We can just pretend it never happened. I would say forget, but one of us has an eidetic memory.”

Spencer grins, rolling his eyes. “Well, that one sounds like a real pain in the ass.”

“He is,” I chuckle.

We’re back. I think.

He laughed too, and for a minute, we hold eye contact. Something in those hazel eyes tells me he wasn’t lying when he said “It’s not as if I don’t want to.” Because if I know men at all, and I’m pretty sure I do at least a little bit, it looks like Spencer definitely wants to go on that date, maybe more than that. His eyes rake down to my v neck of my top.

“Anyway,” I say with an awkward chuckle, breaking whatever the hell just happened between us. “How’s your sabbatical been?”

Spencer’s eyes snap back up to mine. “It’s been great. It’s really nice to get to be with Atlas, but I am ready to go back to work next week.”

“Next week already? Wow, time is flying by.”

“Yes, yes it is,” he nods. “Before we know it, the school year will be over”

“Oh God, don’t say that,” I laugh softly.

“I’m not ready for Atlas to be in grade school. How is he getting so old?” Spencer says, shaking his head with disbelief.

“It’s crazy how years go by so fast,” I agree. “I’m not ready to not have him in class. You didn’t hear this, but he’s my favorite.”

Spencer grins. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

—————

So I am a fucking dumbass. That’s the conclusion i’ve made after 40 years of being considered a genius.

I’m a dumbass because six years ago I made a promise, and now I want to break it. No, I crave to break it.

This woman is making me crazy. She’s consuming my mind, and the only way to not think about her is to distract myself with something else.

Which means it’s a good thing I’m back at work now. I’m on the jet, flying to Missouri and sitting next to Emily and Luke. I’m staring out the window and thinking about two things: Atlas and Y/n. Which seems to be my entire mind lately.

Atlas is at school, and Florence, his nanny, will he picking him up and taking care of him until I get home. I trust her, have for years, but every time I’m not there, I worry my mind off. Hell, I worry my mind off when I am there.

And then there’s Y/n. Y/n who every time I see, I want to grab her face in my hands and press my lips to hers. Y/n who I’d be willing to risked getting shamed upon for being with my son’s teacher just to be with her. Y/n who I can’t have because I can’t have anyone.

Maybe my promise was a good thing because I sure as hell don’t deserve her. She’s too good for me. In every way.

Maybe Lily was right to leave me. Maybe I’m too much or not enough. Y/n deserves better than what I could give her.

“You okay over there, kid?” Luke asks, eyebrows furrowed as he looks at me.

I glance over at him and nod. It’s a little funny how they still call me kid when I have my own child. That’s beside the point though.

“You sure? You look like you’re contemplating existence.”

“Maybe I am,” I shrug with a short laugh.

He looks at me even more worried.

“I was kidding, Luke.”

“But something’s up. I can tell,” he says.

“It’s not a big deal. I’ll get over it.”

“If it’s got you looking like this, then it is a big deal,” Emily chimes in.

I look over to my right, giving her a thin lipped smile. “It’s nothing.”

“You’re such a liar.”

“Fine,” I groan. “It’s… a woman.”

“Oh my God. The good doctor has lady problems?” Luke laughs.

“And that’s why I was being quiet,” I roll my eyes.

“Ignore him, go on,” JJ says.

The entire jet is now interested in my issues. Great.

I take an exasperated breath. “I like this woman… really like her…”

“That doesn’t seem like an issue,” Emily says questioningly.

“Unless she doesn’t like you back?” Luke asks.

“Well, she asked me out,” I inform them.

JJ raised her brows. “Yeah, I’m really not seeing the problem here. The girl you like asked you out. Isn’t that a good thing?”

This does probably sound stupid. They don’t know the reason why I haven’t dated anyone since Lily. In fact, I don’t think they know the real reason why Lily and I broke up. Im sure they figured it out though.

Morgan knew. And it’s times like these where I wish I still saw him every day because I think he would understand what I’m trying to say right now.

“Because I can’t be with anyone.”

“What does that mean?” Rossi asks.

“I can’t date anyone. It’s just… I don’t know how to explain it.”

“Because of Atlas?” JJ asks softly. “Because I know he’s young, but he’s mature. I think he would understand if you started dating someone. He’d understand that she isn’t his mom, but you care for her.”

JJ’s a mother. She gets this. Part of it at least.

“I can’t bring someone into his life that may not be there permanently,” I say in a low voice. “I don’t want him to be sad because I brought someone into his life that isn’t going to be there forever. He’s different. He doesn’t process things the way other people do.

I can tell by the way they’re looking at me that they know I’m not just talking about Atlas; I’m talking about myself. I let someone in that isn’t here to stay. I’m not sure if I can handle someone leaving again. Not after there’s been so many: my dad, Elle, Gideon, Emily more than once, and then Lily.

I hate the looks of sympathy my friends/coworkers are giving me. I want to hide away and push this out of my mind.

“Spencer,” Tara says gently. “You can’t not allow yourself to be happy just because there’s a chance at potential heartbreak. That’s just how life works. We let people in, and they either stay a part of our lives or they don’t. And nine times out of ten, when they don’t it’s a good thing.”

“Are those real statistics or guesses?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.

“Spencer!” Emily rolls her eyes, but laughs a little.

“Sorry,” I chuckle. “Okay. Can we stop talking about my thing now? Let’s change the subject.”

“If you promise to think about it.”

“Think about what?” I ask.

“Letting her in. Giving it a chance,” Tara tells me.

I nod my head that’s that. We change the topic.

—————

It’s Spring Break, and Spencer and I haven’t talked in a week and a half. I’m not sure what’s up with him, but I don’t want to brother him in case he’s working.

So instead, I occupy my time with books, friends, and iced coffee. The usual, really.

I wish I knew what went on inside Spencer’s mind. At least about me. His words say one thing but his eyes say another.

He says he can’t and that we’re just friends, but when he thinks I’m not paying attention, I catch him looking at me for a little too long. I catch his eyes raking down my body. With any other man I’d be a little offended, but I want him to undress me with his eyes. I want him to picture me without my pretty blouses and cute pants. I want him to enjoy the thought.

I’m starting to think about him way too much. Maybe I’m touched starved or suffering from attention deprivation, but I want him even more now than I did before.

But I don’t just want him for his looks or for his sex appeal. I want him for him. Because he’s a great person, and I think he’d make an excellent boyfriend.

But maybe he doesn’t want a girlfriend. Maybe he just wants to stay single or focus on Atlas, which is totally understandable. Or maybe he’s had a bad history with relationships; I may not be a profiler like him, but I kind of sense some relationship baggage. And then there’s the possibility that he just doesn’t like me, but (not to sound cocky) I doubt it.

Maybe I should just quit pining over him. Men with emotional baggage aren’t exactly the best in relationships. They’re projectors. I don’t think Spencer would be this way, but I don’t really know do I?

The much needed week off is way too short, and I’m back in the classroom with the kiddos. After math and science, I let them tell me and each other what they did over the break.

Atlas says his daddy was gone to work, but he seems happy when the kids say his dad being an FBI agent is really cool.

Speaking of his dad, I wonder how he’s doing or if he’s back home. We haven’t texted in a while, and I’m starting to feel like I’ve done something wrong. I decide to text him to see what’s up.

—————

Y/n’s name and number pop up on my phone screen, and I can’t help but smile a little. I’ve missed her.

Y/n: Hey, what’s up?

Spencer: Just waiting for school to get out. I got home late yesterday, so Atlas was already in bed.

Y/n: Awh I’m sorry. I’m sure he’s excited to see you. And this is going to sound a little silly but I almost thought you ghosted me.

Ghosting: When a person cuts off all communication with their friends or the person they're dating, with zero warning or notice before hand.

I know this slang term from being around the younger generations so much on cases.

A ping of guilt jabs me in the chest. She thought I was blowing her off. I find myself not wanting her to feel any type of sadness ever again.

Spencer: What? No, of course not. I’ve just been busy.

Y/n: If you want to get together to catch up, I’m free this weekend?

Spencer: I don’t think I can this weekend. I’m taking Atlas to the zoo. He likes animals.

I realize it may sound like I’m blowing her off.

Spencer: Next weekend may work for me though. If the offer still stands?

Y/n: See you next weekend:)

I smile to myself.

I haven’t been that busy. Well, I have but not too busy to not text. The truth is, I’ve been avoiding her a little. I still don’t know what to do about the promise and me liking her, so I’ve been pushing her aside. I feel bad, really bad, but I don’t know what else to do.

For all I know, she’s probably lost interest in me by now. I turned her down, and I know some people are able to move on really fast after that. What if she’s already seeing someone else?

Now, a ping of jealousy jabs at my chest.

God, I’m a mess.

“So how was work?” Y/n asks me, a friendly smile on her face. A smile I have grown to adore.

“It was good. This case took a little longer than expected, but overall it was successful,” I inform her.

She nods, taking a sip from her coffee.

“How was your work?” I ask.

“It’s been good. The kids are progressing, some more than others, but that’s how it always is,” she says.

Just as I’m about to say something else, she says, “I think the school is talking about moving Atlas up to second grade next year, but you didn’t hear that from me. They’re planning to call you and see what your thoughts are.”

“Really?” I grin softly. “Wow. I mean he’s already younger than the kids in his class, but I suppose that’s a hypocritical reason for me to say no. I was 12 when I graduated.”

“High school?” Her pretty eyes widen at me.

I can’t help but chuckle. “Mhm.”

“Damn, Spencer. I knew you were brilliant, but damn. That’s five years younger than I was. Five whole years,” she laughs with disbelief.

I blush, enjoying the slight praise she’s giving me.

The lunch goes on, and the two of us talk about whatever our words lead to next.

“Hey, Atlas,” I call for my son then pat the couch cushion next to me. “Come here.”

He puts his action figure down and joins me on the couch.

“I have to ask you something.”

“What?” He looks up at me curiously.

“So you know how I told you promises are meant to be kept?”

He nods, looking at me as if to ask “Where is this going, Dad?”

“So Daddy made a promise a while ago, and I’m not sure if I should still keep it.”

“It depends on the promise,” he says. Not what I was expecting. “Would breaking it hurt anyone?”

“Not physically, but there’s a potential that it might emotionally later down the road,” I tell him.

Atlas ponders on that.

“But it may not. And it may make me very happy.”

“If it makes you happy, then I think it’s okay. But I don’t know, you did promise.”

Exactly where I’m at on this situation, kid.

“What if I did a trial run, huh?” I ask. “I break the promise just for a little bit, and if it goes well, the promise is long forgotten.”

“But, Daddy you said you don’t forget anything.”

“Metaphorically forgotten,” I correct myself.

He nods. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

Atlas nods again. “What was the promise?”

“How about I tell you if it’s metaphorically forgotten?”

He furrows his eyebrows. “Fine. Can I go read now?”

“Yep,” I nod and ruffle his wavy hair.

I’m going to talk to her soon. I’m going to break, well, bend the promise. If things go smoothly, then it’s broken for good. But if not, then I’ll put a bandaid on that damn promise and never bend it again.

That’s a lot of pressure.

Good thing Easter is coming up. Y/n isn’t having a full easter party for the kids and parents, but I know she’s doing something for just the kids. So I have a plan.

—————

I’m done with this shit. I know there’s something between us, and he can’t deny it anymore. He can turn me down again, but he can’t say there isn’t some type of spark going through the both of us.

Text time I see him, I’m going to tell him to quit being a child and start owning up to it. It just may be a little difficult to be stern when he’s so goddamn pretty.

There’s a knock on my classroom door just as I’m packing up to leave. I just cleaned the room since Easter eggs and plastic grass was scattered across the floor.

I open the door. Spencer. Well, maybe this is my time.

“Hey,” he says with a soft grin.

“Hey, where’s Atlas?” I ask.

“I just dropped him off for a play date with Henry and Michael…. we need to talk.”

“Yes we do,” I say. I decide to go for it. “Me first. Spencer, you can’t keep pretending that there isn’t something between us,” I gesture from me to him and back to me with my pointer finger. “You can reject me all you want, but I know the truth. I like you. I want you. And I know you feel something like that too, so can you please just for one minute stop with the ‘I can’ts’ and ‘We’re just friends’ bullshit, because that’s what it is. Bullshit. And I know you’ve probably been through something that’s made you this way, but it’s okay to let people in. Actually in life, we kind of all have to suck it up and let people in.”

He laughs softly. Actually laughs. My face turns beat red, and I’m both embarrassed and angry. This isn’t funny.

“Are you done?” He asks, and I kind of want to strangle him for that.

“Excuse me?”

“I mean,” Spencer chuckles, licking his lips. “Is that all? Because what I’m about to do has to do with what you just said, but I don’t want to cut you off.”

For a moment, I think he’s going to kiss me, but instead he hands me something.

“What the hell am I supposed to do with an Easter egg, Spencer? Do you know how many of these I’ve cleaned up today.”

He chuckles again, running a hand through his hair. “Open it.”

Expecting to find chocolate, I open the pink and yellow egg. There’s a folded up piece of paper. I unfold it, and a grin grows on my face when I read it. I shake my head, laughing softly.

The note reads:

Yes, I will go on a date with you.

And there’s a drawn on Easter bunny to the side of the sentence. He definitely drew it himself.

“You know,” he says, “if the offer still stands.”

I fight the urge to scream “Yes!” in his face. “I don’t know. Usually response times take less than an hour. This one took two months.”

Spencer’s face turns red, and he chuckles nervously. “Do I not get a grace period?”

“I suppose,” I say dramatically. “Only because you’re so cute.”

The red of his face deepens. “Oh yeah?”

Butterflies. Everywhere.

“Mhm. Now ignore what I said earlier because I’m a little embarrassed.”

Spencer grins. “Hmm no. It was kind of hot.”

I walk up to him, my arms resting on top of his shoulders. “Oh?”

“Mhm. Badass,” he nods, smiling down at me.

I stare up at him, my breath getting caught in my throat when I see him lean down closer to me. His face is not even an inch away from mine. He’s still hesitant, still anxious.

It’s me who closes the gap between our lips. I may have been the one to kiss him first, but he takes the lead. His lips are crashing into mine as if he’s been waiting for a long time to do this. I know I have. His hands are cupping the sides of my face, and I feel like he’s devouring me, but I like it. I like how hungry he is. I like being craved.

We don’t even care if a custodian or the principal comes in right now, all we care about is this kiss, is each other. Lips, teeth, and tongue collide together, and my heart is skipping so many beats I might go into cardiac arrest.

I’m the one to pull away too. I look up at him, and his eyes stay closed briefly until he meets my gaze with a smile.

“I’ve wanted this since we met,” I whisper, licking my lips, tasting him.

“Me too.” His words are just as soft as mine.

Spencer is backing me toward my room, but he doesn’t stop kissing me. His hands unbutton my blouse as we move. We finally make it to my bedroom, and neither of us care to shut the door. I live alone, so it doesn’t matter.

We’ve been dating for nearly two months now, and we haven’t had sex yet, not for any particular reason just that we haven’t had the opportunity to. But tonight, with Atlas with his friends and summer break having just started… well, here we are.

The rest of our clothes come off in between kisses and touches. We’re eager, craving each other.

Spencer sits down, watching me take off my panties and kick them to the side. I grip onto his shoulders and swing my leg over him, straddling his lap. Our mouths find each other again, like they’re finding their way home.

The touching and teasing from both parts gets to be too much after a while of his fingers crazy the bundle of nerves inbetween my legs and my hands playing with his length.

Soon enough, he’s slipping on a condom, and I’m lowering myself onto him. We both let out moans as he enters me.

I bite my lip, trying to be quiet. It’s been too long since either of us have done this.

Spencer grabs my chin gently and forces my teeth to release my lip from its confinement.

“Don’t hold back. I want to hear you,” he says, his voice so low and raspy that my already pulsing core gets butterflies.

I begin rocking my hips back and forth slowly, and his hands caress my body wherever they feel fit. Both of our sounds are filling the apartment, and we don’t even care if we’re disturbing my neighbors.

After a while of slow movements, Spencer decides to take control. He pulls me close to him, my chest right in his face, his arm wrapped around my back. His other arm leans behind him, stabilizing the both of us. He bucks his hips up quickly and harsh, making my moans grow louder. Spencer‘s mouth takes hold of my nipple, and the sensation is amazing.

My hands roam his back, nails scratching down it.

“Shit, Y/n…” he says breathlessly. “I’m about to come.”

I whine, tugging at his hair. “Me too.”

The two of us finish, one right after the other. After we’re all cleaned up, and our breaths are mostly caught, we lay down in my bed. Spencer’s head rests on my tits, and my nails scratch his back, this time lightly.

“That was amazing, beautiful,” he says with a smile I can’t quite see but I can feel.

I grin, blowing my sweat-laced hair out of my eye. “It was incredible.”

—————

In the morning, Y/n touches my face gently. “The five o’clock shadow you have going on right now is so sexy.”

I blush, a grin plastered on my face. “You in nothing but a t shirt is so sexy.”

Y/n smiles and rolls her eyes.

I spent decades building up these walls, and it only took her a few months to get through them. For six years, I was so scared of being hurt again that I almost missed out on this. I’ve learned that healing isn’t not getting hurt again, healing his knowing that you may get hurt again and still allowing yourself to live a happy life. It’s accepting what happened to you, and not forgetting but forgiving whatever self-blame you hold in your heart.

I’m on the healing journey, and Atlas is too even if he doesn’t know it, and I’m glad Y/n is here with us. I’m glad I was able to break the vow I took years ago. I guess some promises are better off broken.

tags: @pauline5525mgg @theintimatewriter @lilibet261 @greysviolets @jazzymariexoxoc @one-sweet-gubler @thatsonezesty13 @necromaniackat @awhoreforspencerreid @sebs-oxygen @crynroom @scarredelirium @reid1nspiration @bts-sugaplum @awesomeness1679 @preciousbabypeter @yazzyu @cynbx @youcantseem3 @xmysec0ndself @trikigirl271 @mikaylafairy @prettypanda13 @strawberrysunglasses @sad-innit @sydney-m @depressedprincess24 @flyingmushroomss @r3idsp3ncer <3

[heartbreakgrill]

1989 (Heartbreak Grill’s Version)

Countdown to 1989 (Taylor’s Version) with me! I will be writing 6 song blurbs based off of my top 6 1989 tracks. This will hopefully all be finished by October 27th, 2023, when 1989(TV) will finally be released. Enjoy!

How You Get the Girl: Calum Hood

“remind me how it used to be.”

Out of the Woods: Theo Raeken

“we were in screaming color.”

Wildest Dreams: Kol Mikaelson

unpublished.

This Love: Stiles Stilinski

unpublished.

You Are In Love: Matthew Gray Gubler

unpublished.

Style: Pedro Pascal

“it’s a new soundtrack. i could dance to this beat forevermore.”

[piqtescue]

that fit on him tho☀️

[444rockstargf]

"heard that you like the bad girls." | spencer reid

video games. - lana del rey

⊹₊⋆ synopsis: when the black cat meets the golden retriever.

fill out the taglist form!

female!reader x spencer

word count: 1.2k

contents: opposites attract, spencer being a sweetheart, fluff, not proofread

it had to have been a cruel joke played by the universe when you and spencer were assigned to work on a job together.

your interactions with him had never gone past glancing at him as he passed by or blankly nodding at the factoids he spat at 100 words per minute. he was a self-proclaimed genius, equipped with intelligence that many could only aspire to obtain. so it didn’t make sense to you why it was always as if his IQ got slashed in half whenever he spoke to you.

spencer was a sophisticated individual, particular about everything from the way he carried himself to how each chestnut-brown strand of his hair was laid. while you were the polar opposite. you went with the wind, going wherever the night took you. your attire consisted of dark colours and you put minimal effort into making yourself look professional, though you suppressed your style just a little to help it meet the nonexistent workplace requirements. even with your lack of interactions, spencer could tell you had a bold personality. and he longs to search and explore every part of it.

the first step he took in getting to know you was offering to give you a ride to work. as usual, you were running late. he’d said that he’d be at your place by 7:30 and you watched the long arm of the clock tick to 7:29. you slipped on your dark brown sweater, letting it rest on top of your pleated black skirt. you hastily put on your dark tights, finishing off the look with your black doc martens. you looked at yourself in the mirror, making sure you didn’t look as crazy as you felt you were going.

as the clock hit 7:30 the doorbell chimed, perfectly on cue. you quickly grabbed your bag, dashing down the stairs until you reached the front door, seeing spencer through the lens of the peephole. you let out a soft breath, taking in the 6 feet of elegance that awaited you on the other side of the door. the bright morning sub made his hair appear to be made of one million pure gold threads, his eyes turning into soft pools of honey.

with a deep breath, you opened the door, greeting him with a warm smile. he met your eyes with warm eyes and the softest smile you’d ever seen. he stared at you, not saying anything for a good moment until you cleared your throat to catch his attention. he ran a hand through his hair, blinking himself out of his smitten daze.

he couldn’t get over how much he wanted to know about you. you were attractive in a frustratingly effortless way, like you just so happened to roll out of bed looking like a goddess. he had gotten lost in your gaze again, finally coming to his senses after another long minute. “g-good morning.” you laughed softly as he stammered. “morning, doc.” you teased, never having bothered using such formalities before.

he went to extend a hand toward you before thinking that he was moving too fast. “shall we? my car’s in your driveway.” you nodded, walking out the door and shutting it behind you, making sure to lock it as you and he strolled over to his car. he opened the door for you and you hopped in, slightly flattered by his chivalrous gesture. he got into the driver’s seat next to you, stealing a quick glance in your direction as you buckled up his seat belt. he’d never been able to take his eyes off of you, but the feeling got even more intense when you were this close, your scent filling his nostrils. he started up the car, pulling out of your driveway.

you yawned, rubbing your eyes as he began to drive down your street. he raised an eyebrow. “tired?” you nodded. he began to speak again, his eyes lighting up in the way that they usually did whenever he went off on irrelevant tangents. “for optimum health and function, the average adult requires around 7-9 hours of sleep to function properly during the day. but studies show that 60% of women fall short of that goal.”

you laughed a little, amazed by how quickly he could pull the facts out of his head. he pulled out of your street, driving in the opposite direction of the workplace. “how about we head down to that coffee place across from your house? i saw it when i was coming earlier.” and he absorbed knowledge like a sponge. you smiled. “yeah, that’d be great. thank you, spencer.”

you could’ve sworn you heard him squeal when you called him by his name. you pulled out your mirror, fixing up your hair as he pulled into the parking lot. “i’ll be back in a minute, okay?” he walked into the cafe before you could respond. and he hadn’t even taken your order. you were willing to bet a large sum of money that he’d draw an assumption on how you liked your coffee. you took it black, no cream and no sugar. but no guy had ever guessed that right.

you flipped through the radio channels, searching for something good to play. you assumed that you’d be waiting for him for a while. but he walked out of the shop before you could even settle on something to play. he hopped back into the car, holding two large coffees in his hand. your eyes were wide. “that was quick.” he nodded. “i ordered ahead of time. i had a feeling you wouldn’t be used to heading to work this early.”

you rolled your eyes, accepting the cup he held out to you with a smile on your face. you took a slow sip of the drink, eyes growing with surprise as you tasted the familiar, bitter mixture. he was watching you with a stupid little grin on his face. “no cream and no sugar, right?” your eyebrows inched up on your forehead. “how’d you know that?” he shrugged, putting the keys back into the ignition. “i see you everyday. it’d be a shame if i didn’t know how you took your coffee.”

you felt a sizzling sensation spreading in your cheeks. you turned away slightly, watching the atmosphere change as he drove away. the car fell silent, something you’d never expect from spencer. then he opened his mouth to speak again. “h-hey, i’ve been meaning to ask you something…” you tilted your head to the side, curious at what he had to say. he took a deep breath, trying not to sound as awkward as he knew he was. “all this work stuff is pretty hectic, like all the time. but you seem… i-i dunno. you always listen to what i have to say and never act like i bore you. s-so… i was wondering if you’d like to try out that new restaurant that opened after work…?” 

he regretted asking as soon as the word came out, but you were grinning from ear to ear as you heard him speak like a normal, nervous guy instead of the genius he was. “you asking me out on a date, spencer?” he swallowed hard, quickly looking over at you. “i guess you could put it that way…” you stayed quiet, watching as he squirmed in his seat. you found that you liked getting him all riled up. you lifted up in your seat a little and pecked him on the cheek, his face immediately flushing with crimson. “pick me up at 7:30. don’t be late.” 

you and him both laughed at the irony of that statement.

author's note: i need to rewatch criminal minds. i've completely forgotten everything about it

[hornyramostan]

he had absolutely NO RIGHT of looking this hot while being tortured

[sintowinemily]

You're Somebody Else

You're Somebody Else: Case One

(Season 3 - 2007)

5.7k words

summary: spencer reid meets dr. katrina edwards while in boston for a case. he knows her, better than he knows herself, and because of this he knows she is hiding her real identity from everyone.

warnings: canon-typical violence, mentions of murder, rape, torture, abuse, child abuse (all involving the case and not the characters). angst. third person.

author's note: i'm so excited for this fic. this case is just setting the scene.

Formal Introductions

“Agent Hotchner, welcome to Boston. I’m Special Agent Madeleine Atwood. I head the violent sex crimes unit here and will be running point on the investigation. Glad to have you here.” Atwood offers her hand to Agent Hotchner, who shakes it and nods.

“No need to thank us. These are Agents Prentiss, Jareau, Morgan, Rossi, and Dr. Reid.” Hotch points to each member of his team, all but Reid shakes Atwood’s hand.

“Ah, another Doctor. My second, Dr. Katrina Edwards will be out here to brief you any moment. She’s wrapping up a meeting with our adjoining human trafficking division. I’m running point, but she’ll be on the ground with you. She’ll show you to the office we’ve reserved for you, please use her as much as you need.” Atwood smiles and looks behind her to an office with floor to ceiling windows, behind which the team spot Dr. Edwards explaining details of the map set up behind her.

“Thanks.” Hotch says shortly but smiles at Atwood none the less. At this, she leaves the team to hover at the forefront of the office. 

Boston FBI Field Office’s Violent Sex Crime and Human Trafficking division oversaw all serial rape, extreme sex crime and human trafficking in the United States and were often called to travel across the continental states in the same manner as the BAU. They had all been well acquainted with Atwood’s predecessor, who had worked closely with Jason Gideon, and David Rossi in the decades before. Both teams were an asset to the bureau, so if Boston Sex Crime needed a BAU consultation, they knew the case was serious. 

Atwood lights raps her knuckles against the glass of the office in which Dr. Edwards in conducting her meeting, bowing her head back to gesture to the team. Edwards notices and curtly nods to the men in the room, excusing herself.

What the team, nor Atwood noticed, was how Spencer Reid spotted the girl, and positioned himself behind Derek to be obscured from her view. 

“I’m Dr. Katrina Edwards. But please, call me Trina, everyone does.” Trina introduces herself to the team, shaking hands with Hotch. The first thought to enter all their minds was her age. She looked at ages with Spencer, twenty-six, and had already made her way up the ranks to be deputy in a division which battled with the BAU as the Bureau’s most important asset. 

“Well as I live and breathe, Trina Johnson.” Derek steps forwards and envelopes Trina into a hug. Trina cringes at the use of her maiden name.

“You two know each other?” Hotch asks, raising his eyebrow. Emily and JJ look to each other, there’s only one way Derek could know a girl who looked like that. 

“Yeah, worked a case in New York together. Our first years at the Bureau. It’s been a while.” Derek squeezes her shoulder and smiles.

“Derek was the first agent not to be a complete ass about letting me head a stake-out. I was twenty-one.” Trina smiles, her eyes coming back to meet Hotch. “Come with me, I’ll show you where to set up.”

“I bet that’s not all he did in New York.” Emily whispers to JJ, Spencer feels his stomach drop. This would be a long case. 

*

“Agent Atwood said we could use you as we pleased.” Hotch asks inquisitively. “What does she mean by that?”

Trina smiles, she hadn’t had the pleasure of meeting Aaron Hotchner yet, but she knew he was all business. “My specialty is psycho-linguistics. I am essentially a human lie detector.”

“That’s right, Gideon wanted you for a specialist interrogation team. My apologies.” Hotch nods, the name he recognised now catching up to him. “Your resumé was extremely impressive. One to watch out for Reid.”

Spencer ignores this comment and continues to set up the map on the bulletin board to begin the geographical profile. As little interaction with Katrina Edwards as possible.

“It was a hard offer to turn down. But I needed to stay in Boston.”

“You from here?” Emily’s turn to question the young agent.

“My whole life, got my first PhD from Harvard so I didn’t have to move away.” She smiles.

“Not many people would say Harvard was such a burdensome option.”

“No, it definitely wasn’t burdensome.” She quips back.

Derek looks up from his files, “I thought you were from Philly?”

“I was born there, moved here pretty young. Both of my parents are from Massachusetts, it was the right decision I guess.” Trina feels a bead of sweat fall down her face, she’s a bad liar.

“Makes sense. You get married Johnson, I thought I would have a hold on you forever?” Derek smirks, now that Hotch has left the room to call Penelope, he has his chance to ask the more pressing questions.

“Widowed.” She replies curtly.

“I’m sorry.” Emily responds quickly, this makes Spencer look up – their eyes meet for only a second before they both look away.

“We were only married six months. My college sweetheart, he was killed in action.”

“Where was he posted?” Derek asks sympathetically.

“Afghanistan.” It’s now Derek’s turn to apologise for her loss.

“Did he go to Harvard too?” JJ asks, she knows loss and she knows it’s best to talk about the things Trina would want to remember.

“Princeton.”

“Damn girl, where else did you got school?”

“Yale, Dartmouth.” She lists.

“How many PhD’s do you have?

“Four.” She smiles, her greatest accomplishment. 

“Hotch is right, you are impressive. Watch out Reid, you’re not the only genius in the room.” Derek laughs, giving Reid a devilish grin.

“I’m not worried.” He replies without turning around.

Spencer knows he’s behaving like an ass. His teammates reactions to his short remarks and lack of interest in the impressive agent makes it clear he is not being subtle. He didn’t realise that he was angry until she mentioned her academic accolades. Because he knows this girl. He knows her better than he knows anyone else in this room, and she did not attend Yale or Dartmouth. And her name is not Katrina Edwards.

The Case

“Okay. Agent Atwood was right; this is going to have to be an all hands-on deck situation.” Hotch runs his hands over his face as he sits at the head of the table. His team, Atwood and Edwards sit around him, elbows deep in paperwork. “We’ll need everyone’s expertise here. There are letters, a messy geo-profile, and an obsessive nature I will need you three to focus all of your efforts on. Work together, if necessary, just get it done.” He gestures towards Trina, Derek and Spencer who sit at the opposite end of the table in that order. 

The case was one of the worst the BAU had seen. The bodies of nine women had been found, brutally sexually assaulted and sodomised, each of their limbs had been burned almost to desecration, along with their bodies were letters. Each of the letters seemingly having been written by the victim, with no apparent intended recipient and no logical prose. The manner in which the bodies had been found was obsessive and methodical. Each woman was found in identical clothing, tied to a tree in Culter Park, eye-lids and tongue removed, with a brand behind the left ear. 

“JJ, I need you to help Agent Atwood to interview victim’s families. We have a lot of grieving family members waiting out there and any strand of information they can give us will be able to help.”

“Prentiss, Rossi and I will begin to make our way through Cutler Park, at the dump sites.” Hotch stood and JJ, Emily, Dave, and Atwood followed closely behind, leaving Derek, Trina, and Spencer in the office space alone. 

Trina felt her stomach fall as she looked at the two men who shared her space. She considers excusing herself to work in her office alone but knows how important this case was to both team’s reputations and her own personal afflictions would have to wait. The three work for about an hour in silence, Derek scores stressfully through the paperwork, writing notes in margins, coming up with anything that could deduce a logical profile. Trina manages through letters, aiming to find any connection between the victim’s vernaculars, while Spencer uses Penelope on the phone to pinpoint each dump site in Cutler Park via coordinates. 

Once Derek excuses himself to make a call, the tension in the room is at a high. The two agents can barely stand to be within breathing distance of each other, knowing everything about one another while knowing nothing at the same time. Spencer has taken smaller maps of Cutler Park, and of Boston, to find connections between dump sites and the last-seen locations, and is sitting at the opposite end of the table to Trina. She uses this time to watch him peer at the maps with furious tenacity, she watches the way his fingers move and how he tucks his hair behind his ears to avoid it getting in his eyes while he works. He has changed so much, without changing at all. 

“Do you need help?” She offers, she was always the first to break their code of silence after an argument. Maybe this could help now, eight years later. He ignores her, so she tries again. “I know Boston better than you do; I could help you find a link?”

“I’ve lived here too.” She nods, MIT.

“I know, but that was years ago.”

“Eidetic memory.” He doesn’t look up to meet her eyes.

“Spencer, I’m only offering to help you. This is a tough case for everyone, it’s been six years since you lived in Boston, I’m offering insight.” Her frustration is evident in her tone, he jerks his head up and she can immediately spot the anger in his eyes. She may have pushed too far, she should have left him to work alone. 

“Katie, I don’t need your help.”

“Wow kid.” Derek walks into the room at exactly the wrong moment. “I know you’re stressed but at least get her name right.” He hands Trina a coffee, which she smiles back at him for gratefully. She is grateful for the drink, but perhaps not as grateful as she is for the bliss of ignorance.

“Right, yeah. Sorry.” Spencer replies, but she knows he could not be further from sorry. 

*

The tension builds throughout the day. Cutler Park is six hundred acres and the team spend hours trekking through to the dump sites. Derek joins JJ in interviewing victims, hoping to gain more insight into victimology before he can attempt to piece together the obsessive nature of the unsubs profile. This leaves Spencer and Trina alone in the office again. Trina, who is now no longer putting up with Spencer’s stubbornness, has set up her own map to work her own geographical profile – the letters would have to wait until family interviews were over, or until Garcia could get them emails and text messages to compare vocabulary. Spencer, who is clearly very stubborn, hasn’t looked in her direction once and so, until this exact moment, hasn’t noticed that she has gone over his head and completely re-done the geographical profile.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“Geo-profiling.” She responds curtly, ignoring the angry voice to her left. Two could play at this game, she didn’t look at him.

“It’s not even your specialty.”

“And linguistics isn’t yours, but you read the letters.”

“I know enough about linguistics to do so.”

“And I’m second in command at one of the most important hubs for human trafficking in the western world, I know how to geo-profile.” She snaps her head to look at him, and is surprised that for a split second, all she sees in his eyes are hurt. And all she feels is guilt.

The two explode into a heated argument, both shouting at each other not particularly caring for who hears. What they’re arguing about is not important, but what is, is that both Hotch and Atwood appear in front of the large office windows to witness this. This was not an argument between two professionals disagreeing, albeit in an unprofessional manner, and both the senior agents knew it. Derek looks to Hotch on his left, as if to defend Spencer until he hears it again, the name Katie. 

*

While Hotch and Atwood berate Trina and Spencer for their lack of professionalism, neither mention the nuances of what they witnessed to their team, or to each other. Derek, who watches on at each move they make, doesn’t mention the name he heard to anyone, although he really wants to. In his efforts to scope out the odd feeling he had while watching Trina and Spencer, who had been moved to opposite ends of the room to one another, and ordered to stick to their own task, he noticed something else. There was another agent who watched Trina with a specificity he couldn’t put his finger on, Dave. 

“Okay guys. I’m going to need everyone’s undivided attention. This bastard has been out there for weeks and has no hesitation at carrying on. I want you to listen to the profile, take careful notes and don’t be afraid to ask for clarity. I do not want anything messing up this investigation.” Atwood calls to her department, a sea of field agents gather in the bullpen of the office, eagerly looking to the agents from Quantico for answers. 

“This is a preliminary profile, but for now it should help everyone to get a better idea of narrowing down the search.” JJ begins, “this is under no circumstances, to be given to the media.”

“The unsub is a white man, in his mid- to late-twenties.” Emily starts, “he is physically fit, perhaps even imposingly so. And he most likely has a physical job which gives him access to industrial equipment that he has used to fashion his own torture devices.”

“After further conversation with the ME, it appears the unsub has used varying torture methods on these victims, such as the rack, but the only one consistent is the burning of the limbs. This is his favourite, and we should expect to find this on any future victims. Our technical analyst is monitoring any possible reports of similar signatures in the tri-state area, and is currently looking to see if there could be any previous victims in the continental US that we may have missed.” Dave continues.

“The victims are all white, brunette, and well-educated. These women are most certainly a surrogate for someone the unsub feels has wronged him in the past. Victimology is fairly consistent, all victims were living in Cambridge and Somerville, or studying in the area.” Hotch adds. “Our technical analyst at Quantico is also narrowing down potential victims in this area who would meet our unsubs requirement.”

“What we do know is that the letters were written by our victims, under an unbelievable amount of duress. However, the words are not theirs. After looking at journals, emails, and text messages it is clear this is not wording the victims would have used, even in their final moments. Not only that, but the only common factor in each letter was the mention of a brother. While these letters are written more like journal entries, reflective and with no clear intended recipient, each mentions a brother. All our victims were only children. When narrowing down our suspect list, we should look at young men with a younger sister, maybe she died, maybe she ran away. Either way, the sister will be increasingly important to his arrest and his interrogation.” Trina finishes. Atwood thanks her team for their time, and the scurry to desktops or to canvas the streets. 

Spencer couldn’t come up with a comprehensive geographical profile. The points of abduction didn’t correlate to each other, or to the dump site. He watches as Trina brings out her own map and explains her geo-profile to Hotch and Atwood, who nod and thank her for the extra work.

“Can I see?” He asks meekly.

“Sure.” She responds, handing him the map and walking away. He follows her to an office with Dr. Katrina Edwards on the door. Every wall of the office is covered in bookshelves, at a glance he can see this is where she keeps her prized first editions, the security of an FBI office probably better than her own apartment. He wonders if she still lives in Cambridge. 

“Edwards.” He reads the name from the door.

“Spencer don’t-“ She interrupts him, holding a hand out as if to physically silence his words. He walks in and closes the door, continuing anyway.

“That was your grandmother’s maiden name, why did you say you were married?”

“I was.”

“Sure.” He can’t help but be angry, she moved to the other side of the country and just moved on. Just like that, she got married and Spencer can’t even seem to look at another girl.

“You can’t do this.”

“Do what?”

“You know what.”

“Do I?” He had always been difficult. She raised her eyebrow at him, a gesture he knew all too well meant he should not push her. “I worked it out, if that’s what you were wondering.”

“When?”

“When Derek told the story of knowing you in New York. That was years ago.”

“So today?”

“You could have told me.”

“No, that would go against the very fabric of how the system works. I could not tell you.”

“So, I won’t be getting an apology any time soon.”

“What would I possibly need to apologise for?” Spencer storms out at this. Trina sits at her desk, with her head in her hands, wondering how on earth they managed to get here. She just hoped she wouldn’t be having a similar conversation with Agent Rossi. 

Harvard Summer Camp

Fourteen years earlier

At twelve years old, Spencer Reid knew he would be no social butterfly. He had graduated high school before he had even had his first kiss and was wading through options for college. It seemed every prestigious school in the country was offering him a full ride, and despite his mother’s condition, he was desperate to get as far away from Las Vegas as possible. His high school counsellor had suggested going to Harvard’s Summer School, even if Harvard wasn’t on his shortlist. It was a rigorous programme, and he was likely to meet other gifted students his age, who understood him and the experience he had had.

Unsurprisingly, the Las Vegas public school guidance counsellor had been wrong. As Spencer walked through the dormitories and looked around at the other freshly graduated high school seniors, he could only see tall seventeen and eighteen year olds who looked at the twelve year old boy-genius as if he had two heads.

That was until he met Katie Miller, a Boston native who had turned twelve that February, and had graduated all the same. They had been introduced on their third day at summer camp (what Spencer’s mom liked to call it to make him view the whole experience as fun), it hadn’t taken Harvard long to notice they should probably ensure the only truly gifted students befriended each other. Katie had an IQ of 186 – one point less than Spencer – and had already been accepted to study a history degree at Harvard after the summer, he was unsure why she was even there in the first place.

“Did your parents make you come too?” She asked him, interrupting the silent lunches they had been having for two days.

“What?” He looked up, awkwardly, kids didn’t speak to him much, much less girls.

“My parent’s made me come. I was home-schooled until senior year, they thought I needed to make some friends. Apparently, your mom being your best friend isn’t as cool as it used to be.” She laughs at her own comment, Spencer knew he talked like a grown-up, but she talked like she had been alive for decades longer than she had. 

“My mom is my best friend too.” He admits, smiling weakly at her.

“Hey! I knew they forced us to hang out for a reason. Do you want my pudding?” She offers him the pudding cup, and he nods taking it from her.

After the end of the seven weeks, Spencer felt as if he had known Katie forever. She didn’t stay in the dormitories like everyone else, since her parents lived in Cambridge, so she invited him over for dinner every night. She was the only person he had ever lost at chess to, and he could listen to her babble on about the Salem Witch Trials for hours. Mainly because she never once interrupted him when he babbled on about physics. After the third week of camp, he had called his mom and told her he wanted to go to MIT for his first degree, engineering. Explaining how at home he felt in Boston and how MIT was just the most logical decision to make. He made as many excuses and reasons for wanting to attend that particular college as he could, but really he knew Katie would be in Boston when September rolled around, and he knew he needed to be as near his new friend as he could. 

They made a promise to each other on the final night of camp, before Spencer was due to fly back to Las Vegas, that they would always attend college in the same city, or at least the same state, so they could be there for each other. Katie understood everything about Spencer, she understood how hard it was to be the smartest kid in the room, for your peers to ridicule you, or use you to pass a test. Katie understood how lonely he was, and how lucky they were for finding friendship in each other. What Katie didn’t understand was how hard it was for Spencer to see her with her parents, happily married and doting on Katie all day – her mom wasn’t as clever as his mom, he had thought to himself, she was a music teacher. But her mom didn’t have episodes, her mom noticed if she was home even three minutes later than expected. And her mom doted on Spencer the same, even writing to his mother to assure her that Mrs Miller would take him under her wing during his studies, promising Diana that she would take care of him. Spencer had already begun blocking out memories of his father, at night he liked to imagine Mr Miller was his dad – a primary care physician, who was kind and gentle, and didn’t mind losing Scrabble to two genius kids. Mr Miller drove Spencer to and from the dormitories every night for dinner and reminded him every week that it was okay for him to be homesick. Spencer envied Katie, but not more than the niggling feeling he had to always be around her, if not just for her friendship, but to feel like he belonged to a simple family. 

The Arrest

“How come she gets to use the big guns?” Spencer exclaimed to JJ as he walked into the bullpen of the Boston office, watching as Derek, Rossi, Hotch and Trina were putting on their vests and loading up their MP4 guns. 

“Edwards was a SWAT agent at the New York field office for two years before she transferred here. Apparently, she’s a pretty great shot.” JJ explained, shrugging as the two watched on.

“What is she? Five two?” Spencer pretended like he didn’t already know the answer.

“Come on Spence, don’t be jealous because she gets to be in the field, and you don’t.” He hears Emily walk up behind him. 

“I’m not.”

“Sure.” JJ laughs, Spencer still sore from barely making it into the field, exceptions had to be made ultimately.

They had used the profile to narrow down a suspect list to a Jason Richards, a twenty-six year old construction worker who had been separated from his sister when they were entered into the foster care system as children. His sister had committed suicide, but not before pressing charges for historic sexual abuse at the hands of her older brother. These murders, these rapes, were his way of punishing her all over again. The fake journal entries had been his tool to not only psychologically torture his victims, but to play out a fantasy in which his sister forgave him for what he had done, and realised they were meant to be together. His love map had been skewed and it had turned him into a sick, and extremely dangerous man.

Garcia had sleuthed through his records and alerted the team to his mass hoard of very large guns, Hotch had to call in a favour from the brass to get authorisation for more intimidating weapons, however had ordered his team not to use them – they were for show only. Because Trina had the most experience in SWAT and tactical arrests, Atwood had allowed her into the field on this occasion.

“If it makes you feel any better Spencer,” Emily turned to him. “Apparently Atwood doesn’t let her into the field often, she’s more of a logistics manager.”

“Why not? If she was on the SWAT team?” JJ asks. Spencer wonders the same thing, he knew many things about Trina, and despite his complaining he knew she would certainly be able to hold her own in the takedown of an unsub.

“Something must have happened since she came back to Boston.” Emily shrugged, not usually one to invade other people’s business. Spencer watched as the small, innocent girl he once knew heaved a gun almost as big as her over her shoulder and followed Derek Morgan into the elevator. 

He came to a realisation. It didn’t matter what had happened eight years ago in California, it didn’t matter that there was a turning feeling in his stomach every time he looked at her, it didn’t matter because she had married a military man, and clearly had history with Derek. She would never look at him in the way she once had, he was not man enough for her, he wasn’t even authorised to use the big guns. 

*

The arrest team had returned victorious, the unsub had been cuffed and taken to holding, no shots were necessary. The case had been closed much sooner than either team had expected, and Madeleine offered to take the BAU out for drinks. Hotch was quick to accept, not itching to return to paperwork or an empty house. 

The BAU met Madeleine and Trina at a bar not far from their hotel. It was a classy establishment, much less grinding and much more professionals unwinding for the day, that did not stop Derek Morgan from pulling Katrina onto a makeshift dancefloor and ignoring Spencer’s glum stares as he twirled her around. 

After a few drinks and lots of getting to know one another, Hotch pulled Trina aside. “This may seem like an odd request, and I know you’re not interested in transferring out of Boston.” This piqued Trina’s interest. “But I would like to know if you would be willing to be a reserve for an interview team?”

“What would that entail?” She asked, genuinely curious.

“We conduct many interviews with serial killers and other offenders to help broaden our knowledge for future profiles, and for our database. I was hoping you would be willing for me to have your number so I could call you in for interviews or interrogations in which your linguistics expertise would be useful.”

“Doesn’t Dr. Reid have linguistics training?”

“He does, but I’ve read your thesis, I’ve even sat in on one of your academy lectures on psycholinguistics and deception. You are the best. We would only call you in when necessary and they wouldn’t be long trips, no more travelling that you’re already used to.”

“I would like that very much, Agent Hotchner.”

“Hotch, please.” She smile at his request, having heard Derek call him by this nickname and knowing this was a term of endearment for his team. “I’ll have Garcia contact you tomorrow for your information. You can always change your mind.” He reminds Trina, lightly squeezing the top of her arm before returning to Emily’s side at the bar. 

Trina stands alone at the side of the room for a moment, she had desperately wanted that BAU position Gideon had offered her years before, but she couldn’t be away from Boston, not after her parents died, not after what her family had to endure here. 

“He just got divorced.” Trina turned to see Spencer, swaying slightly from a tequila shot she had seen Derek force him to do. 

“I don’t understand.” She was genuinely confused as to why Spencer was informing her of this.

“Just in case you were looking for husband number two.” He shrugged, as if this comment was nonchalant, as if it didn’t mean anything. She had forgotten how cruel he could be when he was angry or upset. Trina looked at him, mouth agape, trying to find any piece of the boy she once knew.

“How dare you.”

“Come on, married? College sweetheart? You didn’t date anyone in college, I know, I was there.”

“I met Ben at Princeton.” 

“Oh, I see. So, you leave me in California and immediately get married?”

“I didn’t leave you in California.”

“We agreed to stay in the same state.”

“When we were twelve. I couldn’t turn down Princeton, you know I couldn’t. I met Ben my last semester there, he was a film studies major and he didn’t care about how many PhD’s I had, or he had. Or what my IQ was, or how many books we had read between us. He didn’t care about all the things you only cared about. He cared about everything you didn’t. Spencer. You were my best friend, and that won’t ever change, but don’t you dare talk about him again.” Trina was furious, her ears were burning, and she could feel her face turn red. Spencer was deflated, and she could tell he genuinely had misread the situation. She also felt guilty, she knew this was confusing, and she knew she couldn’t tell him the truth.

“Why can’t you just tell me what happened?”

“You said you guessed.”

“About witness protection, not why you were in it.”

Trina storms out of the bar, the door slams so loudly you can hear it over the music. Madeleine assures Hotch that Trina lives nearby, she could hail a cab or even walk quite safely; plus, she is skilled in hand-to-hand combat. Hotch looks around the bar to find Spencer standing where he had left Trina, looking guilty and bewildered. He sighs and approaches his young team member.

“Why don’t you make sure she gets home safe?”

“Why?”

“Because clearly, you’ve pissed her off. At least see her into a cab.” Spencer reluctantly followed Trina out of the club, knowing there was no point in arguing with Hotch about this.

He jogged down the street to catch up to her, “Hey, wait up.”

“Spencer, I’m not in the mood to have this argument. Please, go back to your hotel. We’ll never have to work together again.”

“We will if you take the interview position.” He replies shrugging, she looks at him questioningly. “I do a lot of the interviews as well. You’re not the only genius in this room.” He tries to make her laugh, he almost succeeds. “Let me walk you home.”

“Why?”

“I told your dad I always would.” She lets their eyes meet when she hears his reply. Her father had loved Spencer and would tease her relentlessly that they would get married one day. When the pair moved to California, he had made Spencer promise to always make sure he walked her home safely, no matter how old they got. “I guess I haven’t really held up my end of the agreement.” He tries to make her laugh again.

“That isn’t your fault.” She sighs, they walk in tandem. It’s warm in Boston this evening, and it reminded her of her childhood walking through Cambridge like this.

“I didn’t say it was. But maybe I should have tried harder, maybe if I had tried harder, we would still be friends.”

“You know that’s not true.” She gives him a weak smile; she figures it wouldn’t take long before he started to make excuses for what she did.

Spencer seemed to accept this answer, and the pair walk in silence back to her apartment, which was only a few blocks away. Spencer gazes up at the building before turning to face Trina, who was looking back at him fondly. This is how she remembered him.

“I’m sorry.” He says quietly.

“What for?”

“The past few days, this case. Seeing you again, and not being able to talk to you like Morgan could. It wasn’t fair. But I shouldn’t have lashed out at you.” She takes his hand in hers.

“You know. When I saw you, I knew it was you immediately, you haven’t changed at all,” she ignores his protests that he had in fact grown 6 six inches and changed his hair since they had last seen each other. “I wanted to hug you; it killed me that I couldn’t.”

“It did?”

“Yes. But you know that Madeleine and your team can’t know we know each other. I’d have to get transferred out of Boston, maybe even have to leave the FBI completely.”

“I know.” He looks down, he knows this was too to be true. “We can’t be friends.”

“No, we can’t.”

[godsfavdarling]

my masterlist

(all of my works include mature content and eventual smut, unless stated otherwise)

one-shots

Yellow - Spencer just came back from a tough case and you and him indulge in some adult activities, but during it you find yourself feeling a little anxious. (fem!reader)

How could you? - You go to Spencer's apartment, only to witness a shocking betrayal that shatters your world. (gn!reader) sfw

How could you? (pt.2) - You're still hurt but you don't think you can let Spencer and your love for him go so easily. (gn!reader) sfw

full fics

I’m Such A Fool For You (set after season 15) - After nearly two decades with the FBI, Dr. Spencer Reid makes a career shift to teaching at Georgetown University. There, he shares an office with Dr. Brittany Reed, a sociologist. (wattpad, Ao3)

Keep Holding On (set between seasons 10-11, later 12-15) - Molly is an elementary school teacher with a simple, fulfilling life. Her romantic life, though, remains stagnant, lacking any signs of flourishing, as she faces continuous disappointments in her pursuit of love. However, a chance encounter with Spencer, a sweet and gentle genius, might just be the catalyst for a change in her romantic fortunes. (wattpad, Ao3)

Why Don't You Come Over? (Spencelle Fanfiction) - There's always been more between Elle and Spencer. Will they be able to be honest with each other? (wattpad, Ao3)

Sweet Relief (set after season 2) - Margaret, a ballerina in Jacksonville, and Spencer, two individuals who have silently weathered their own storms. They find unexpected solace and sweet relief in their budding relationship. A tale of rediscovery and healing. i'm rewriting it!

to be written!

A Second Chance - Amelia and Spencer, childhood sweethearts, faced a tough choice at 16 when Amelia got pregnant. They decided to give their baby up for adoption. After 15 years, they reunite with their daughter. (sfw)

Heart's First Beat (set while Spencer was in collage) - Spencer and Ethan, lifelong rivals, find their relationship taking an unexpected turn.

We All Broke Rules For Someone (set in season 15) - Spencer meets Riley, the enigmatic friend of his colleague JJ. Sparks fly between them, leading to a forbidden affair that challenges their loyalties and desires.

Can't Believe I Used To Get To Kiss You (set in season 7) - After years apart, Spencer and Izzy reunite. Spencer's enduring love resurfaces while Izzy finds herself ensnared in a toxic relationship.

I'll Heal Eventually (set in season 2) - In the midst of his addiction struggles, Spencer makes the decision to attend NA meetings to reclaim control of his life. There, he meets a friend who helps him navigate the challenges of recovery.

my username is godsfavdarling on all platforms!

[misshiraethsworld]

CHECKMATE ━ spencer reid ♙

i just can't take my eyes off of you

THE BEHAVIORAL REVIEW coming soon!

tag family: @arrthurpendragon, @eddysocs, @darth-caillic, @dancingsunflowers-ocs, @kmc1989, @ocappreciation, @ocs-supporting-ocs if you want to be added to my family, all you have to do is ask!

[mrs-s-reid]

Prompt List <3

Dialogue prompts -

-- Spicy --

"I wonder the ways I could make you scream?"

" I need you with me right now."

" Lose the attitude."

"Don't tease me."

-- Love --

"I made a promise. A promise that I would protect you. And I intend to keep it."

"You are the first person in years that has made me feel this safe."

"I was just thinking... Would you want to move in... With me?"

"Does this mean we are dating?"

" What are we?"

-- A mix --

"I know about her.."

"I can't stand to look at you."

"You threw me out. Like I was nothing to you!"

"Prove it. Prove you never loved me."

" I can save you. Give me the chance."

" I thought I could save you, I'm sorry."

" Of course you feel sick. It's the poison I gave you silly!"

" I'm so scared. What's going to happen?"

"What did you do to them?"

~~~~~~

If you have any prompts that aren't on this list leave them in the submissions box! Or the questions box! <3