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there-must-be-a-lock · 3 years

Text

Derailed (Director’s Cut)

Elle Greenaway x Spencer Reid

Word Count: ~1520

Warnings: Discussion of Spencer’s sex life, or lack thereof. Discussion of virginity as a social construct. Some suggestive dialogue, some snarky banter, and some sweetness to wash it down. It’s sexy, but also totally platonic, and it fades to black before anything actually happens.

A/N: You cannot convince me that this isn’t how Spencer lost his v-card.

For the “deleted scene” square on my @cmbingo�� card, written script-style and all. Picks up right where Derailed left off.

(I almost named this Railed. Then I almost named it Deflowered. So many tempting puns.)

[Around dusk. Hotch is driving an SUV. Morgan is in front, Elle and Spencer in back.]

Hotch: Elle, your interview has been rescheduled for tomorrow… and this time I’m driving you.

Elle: I can live with that.

Hotch: Local PD asked Gideon to consult on a case, and they wanted advice on media strategy, so he took JJ. The rest of us aren’t needed, so I got us checked into a motel.

Morgan: Lemme get this straight. We have an actual night off… and we’re spending it in B.F.E., West Texas?

Elle: They have bars in West Texas, right?

Spencer: We just passed one.

Elle: Then you won’t see me complaining. Drinks? Reid?

Spencer: Are you buying?

Elle: Hell yes I am. C’mon, Morgan, you gonna come celebrate the fact that I didn’t die today?

Morgan: When you put it that way, I don’t have much of a choice, do I? [They pull up in front of the motel and start piling out of the car.] Showers first, though.

Elle: We can head out in like an hour. How about you, boss?

Hotch: While I’m very glad nobody died, I am not passing up the opportunity to sleep for more than four consecutive hours. I don’t care what you do as long as I don’t get a call in the middle of the night.

—

[Inside a bar. Spencer and Elle are sitting at a high top, with a collection of empty glasses in front of them. Both of them are tipsy, not totally drunk but sort of giggly and loose-limbed. Spencer is using a penny to show Elle how he hid the microchip earlier. Nearby, the bartender is handing Morgan three fresh drinks, but he’s distracted, talking to a pretty woman, as he takes them.]

[Morgan brings their drinks over to the table and sets two of them down.]

Morgan: So —

Elle: We lost you, huh? [To Spencer] Told you so.

Morgan: How ‘bout you, pretty boy? She’s got friends.

Elle: Oh, come on, you really gonna make me drink alone?

Spencer: Yeah, no thanks.

Morgan: Suit yourself. Don’t wait up.

[Elle rolls her eyes as he walks away. Then she turns back to Spencer, who’s playing with the penny again.]

Elle: You know I’m joking, right? I’m almost ready to head back to the motel, anyway. You should go have some fun.

Spencer: I’m about ready to call it a night too. And honestly, that doesn’t really seem like fun for me.

[Elle watches him for a second, thinking.]

Elle: The flirting? Or the flirting with girls?

Spencer: Hmm?

Elle: I shouldn’t have assumed, sorry… are you even interested in women?”

Spencer: Theoretically, yes? But more to the point, women are rarely interested in me. I’m not… like that. [He gestures at Morgan, who’s showing his new friend how to hold a pool cue, saying something in her ear as she giggles.]

Elle: It’s about confidence, Doc. Gotta be a little cocky. Not too cocky, but —

Spencer: I don’t know how to be cocky.

Elle: Like hell you don’t. Remember earlier? When I said you probably saved my life, and —

Spencer: — I said I totally saved your life. I remember.

Elle: That. Cocky. It works for you.

Spencer: I did save your life, though. That’s a statement of fact, objectively speaking. Of course I’m confident when it comes to stating a fact.

[Spencer flips the penny between his fingers a few times, then makes it disappear and pulls it out from behind her ear.]

Elle: There’s something to get cocky about. You’re good with your hands, doctor.

[Spencer gets flustered and drops the penny, laughing at himself.]

Spencer: That’s different.

Elle: How so?

Spencer: I’m not going to take a girl home and show her my magic tricks, for starters. [He finishes his drink hurriedly.] Are you ready to go? I’m ready to go.

Elle: You’re not getting out of this that easily.

[They both slide off their stools and pull on jackets. Elle looks around for Morgan, but he’s way too focused on the girl to notice them. Spencer makes a face. They head for the door and start walking down the block.]

Elle: Look, objectively speaking? You’ve got cheekbones that could cut glass and you’re a goddamn genius. You know more than me about… well, almost everything, and as annoying as that can be — [She rolls her eyes and sighs, annoyed by her own sincerity.] — it’s impressive. Not to get all schmoopy about it, but… you’re pretty awesome, Doc.

Spencer: I know I’m awesome. This isn’t about my self-esteem.

Elle: So what’s the problem?

Spencer: A random girl in a bar isn’t interested in my IQ. And anyway, it’s not… I know how to talk to girls. But I’m not about to take one home.

Elle: Why not?

[Spencer sighs heavily, looking exasperated.]

Spencer: You want to know why I’m confident in my ability to make pennies disappear?

Elle: I mean… not really, but I’m guessing you have a point.

Spencer: It’s because I’ve been practicing my whole life. I’ve mastered the skill because I’ve had years to do so.

[Realization slowly dawns on Elle’s face.]

Elle: You’re a virgin, aren’t you?

Spencer: Virginity is a social construct based on inherently patriarchal values of purity and the commodification of the female body. [Elle looks sideways at him, raising an eyebrow.] Yes, I’m a virgin.

Elle: So, is it about romance? You want the first time to be special? [Spencer shrugs.] Hate to break it to you, but most first times are funny at best. The sooner you get it out of the way, the sooner it can be an embarrassing story for Morgan to laugh at.

Spencer: Yeah. Great. That’s exactly what I want.

Elle: No, really, what are you hung up on? [They’ve arrived back at the motel. Elle starts opening her door, but pauses.] You want to come in for a minute? Finish this conversation over another drink?

[Spencer shrugs and follows her inside. She starts pouring drinks from the minibar while he continues.]

Spencer: I guess part of the problem is the… learning curve. If I get to that point with someone I already have feelings for, that’s a lot of pressure, you know? But it would feel disingenuous to just pick up a random girl at a bar.

[Elle hands him a glass and they sit down.]

Elle: Disingenuous?

Spencer: False advertising. [He gives her a self-deprecating frog face.] That doesn’t seem fair to her.

Elle: You’re telling me you don’t want to pick up a girl in a bar because you’re a perfectionist?

Spencer: Well… yeah, I guess that’s one way to put it. I don’t like being bad at things!

[Elle laughs and then stares at her glass for a moment, rolling it between her hands thoughtfully.]

Elle: Which means you need someone who knows what to expect. Someone who’s okay with… the learning curve.

Spencer: I mean, I know the theory, but —

Elle: That’s something you can’t really learn from a book.

Spencer: Unfortunately. I need some practical experience.

Elle: You need someone you trust. [Spencer nods.] Somebody you’re comfortable with, but not so emotionally involved with that you feel like you need to impress them.

Spencer: I guess. Yeah.

[Elle raises her eyebrows and waits for him to get it. It takes a minute. His first instinct is to laugh, then he realizes she’s serious.]

Spencer: Really?

Elle: Doesn’t take a genius to figure that one out.

Spencer: But… why?

Elle: You saved my life. Seems like the least I can do. I owe you one.

Spencer: I didn’t do that because I expected something in return! You’re my teammate, and my friend, and —

Elle: Because you know more than me about almost everything else in the world, and for once I’d like to be the one showing off.

Spencer: That’s not —

Elle: Haven’t you been listening? You’ve got cheekbones that could cut glass, and — objectively speaking — you’re pretty awesome. Besides, you’re my friend, and — [She hesitates, looking down at her glass, and the next part sounds almost painfully honest.] — my first time wasn’t great. It wasn’t with someone I trusted. And I guess if I can make sure it’s not like that for somebody else…

Spencer: Oh. [He smiles slightly, looking touched.] You really mean it?

[Elle rolls her eyes.]

Elle: One night only, no strings attached, and if you ever mention it to anyone on the team I will kill you in your sleep, but yeah. I mean it.

Spencer: Not a word.

[Elle drains her glass and straddles him matter-of-factly. He looks very overwhelmed.]

Spencer: Did you know —

[Elle puts a finger to his lips and shakes her head. He closes his mouth immediately, and she gives him an approving nod, teasing but also genuinely fond.]

Elle: You’re a fast learner, aren’t you? As long as you can follow directions and keep the statistics to yourself, I think we’re going to have some fun tonight. Now, shut up and kiss me.

[Spencer smiles. Cut to black.]

Smutty follow-up is now HERE!

If you enjoyed this, please reblog or leave a message! Feel free to send me an ask if you want to be tagged in future Criminal Minds fic.

#cmbingo21 #criminal minds #cm #criminal minds fic #spencer reid #elle greenaway #reidaway

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re1d · 4 years

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dating spencer reid would include ...

→ summary: cute stuff

→ warnings: none

→ word count: 3.2k

→ a/n: i felt like this would be a good starting point for this little writing blog! (fem!reader x spencer)

ngl spencer’s got that dr. jekyll mr hyde dynamic going on ,, sometimes he’s rly flustered and nervous and other times he’s vehemently flirtatious and there’s nothing you can do abt it

when you first met, he was super cautious and maybe even a little bit scared?? to be around you ,, BUT that quickly changed !

after a year and a half he’s learned to take it easy and not sweat the small things ,, or at least not as much as he used to

he calls it the y/n effect

SPENCER REID LOVES WHEN YOU KISS HIS FOREHEAD !

he just melts when your hands cup his face and he can feel the love coursing through your veins. he drinks it in like it’s water and he’s been in a desert for a thousand days. and then, you bring him down and place a gentle kiss smack in the middle of his forehead

it leaves him starstruck, completely and utterly in love

you especially like hearing him funnel fact after fact into your brain

you know that you’ll never remember all of them but the second you quote him to himself he just gushes about how much he appreciates you and how much he loves you ,,

“oh, oh! spence! your present finally came!” your excited voice caught his attention as he looked back to see you struggling to carry a large cardboard box into the living room. he rushed to help you, but you shooed him away, telling him to go sit on the couch and that you’d bring it over to him. “close your eyes and open your hands,” your sentence had him grinning like a little kid. “now, i once remember a certain doctor told me that lucille ball was the savior of star trek and i have decided to honor her decision.”

“no way,” a kiddish giggle escaped his lips. he cracked an eye open, but wasn’t able to see anything because you frantically ran to place your own hands over his eyes. spencer huffed, tickling your hands with his eyelashes as he blinked repeatedly.

you squealed when his fingers met your sides, cringing away with laughter. “no peeking! it’s a surprise until i say so, spence!” he jutted his bottom lip out, surrendering and putting his palms up once more. as you placed the box in his waiting grasp, his eyes shot open. much to your shock, spencer took the box and put it on the couch next to him. looking at you with pure adoration in his gaze, he cupped your face and crashed his lips into yours.

“i love you,” he mumbled into the kiss.

“i love you more.”

spencer likes to take you to quiet places, like coffee shops and libraries, but there’s always the occasion when you two will go out with the team n have a couple dozen drinks get a little wildt

one time, a night ended with you both in morgan’s backseat, sleeping soundly on each other. when you two arrived back at your apartment garcia and morgan practically had to carry you guys up the stairs

you like to take him to public, populated places but do quiet things, like going to the park to play chess or going to the aquarium to visit the fish

he really likes to watch you do things

anything from cooking dinner late at night to getting dressed early in the morning, spencer’s eyes are on you

he likes to watch you do mundane things because it makes the horrors he sees on a daily basis a little less terrible, but ! it’s also just because he loves you vv much

spencer is super duper protective of you! when he finally gets a break from work, there’s nothing you can do that could shake him from your side. he’s stuck to you like Glue.

BUT! you know how much he loves his job, and he really appreciates how much you accommodate for his absences

he’s missed:

anniversaries

birthdays

holidays

it doesn’t really matter though because when he eventually shows up at home, there’s no better feeling. him being present at birthdays, anniversaries, and holidays was never as important as him coming home safe and sound

but, there’s always gonna be a time where he doesn’t come home safe

and you’re there for him then, too

sitting at his beside, you had a death grip on his hand as you slipped into intermittent sleep. a hand on your shoulder snapped you awake, as you stared directly into jj’s sympathetic eyes. “y/n,” she murmured, her voice tender, motherly even, “you need to get some real sleep. spence will be fine for the night.”

“jj,” you mumbled through sleep, “you know i can’t leave him.” she nodded, gently brushing pieces of hair from your face. her eyes widened as her gaze moved to spencer. soft fingers caressed your cheek; you turned to face the direction of your wounded boyfriend only to be met with a tired grin.

his eyes were silken, glazed over like two pieces of brown marble. they shone in the white light of the hospital room—just looking at them caused tears to collect in your ducts. you teetered on the edge of falling apart, the act of spencer waking up distracting you from jj slipping out of the room.

“hey,” his hoarse whisper echoed in the small space, and you lost it. bursting into tears, you practically leaped onto him, sobbing into his chest. spencer’s hand traced patterns into your back as you cried; he truthfully was in a lot of pain, but he wasn’t about to tell you that. when you pulled away, his heart ached at the sight of your puffy, reddened face. tears blossomed in his own eyes, the impact of the situation finally hitting him like a ton of bricks. he could’ve died—he could’ve never seen you again. it made him sick to his stomach. “y/n,” he breathed, “i’m sorry. i’m so sorr—.”

you cut him off with a kiss, gripping his face while trying to pull him infinitely closer. “don’t apologize, spence. you have nothing to be sorry for.” your words made his eyelids flutter closed as he listened. “spence, just promise that you’ll keep coming back to me, okay?”

“i promise.”

when everyone is off, spencer rly rly enjoys seeing you interact with his team

it just makes him so genuinely happy when he gets to watch you joke around with emily and jj and penelope and every time you hug each member of his team goodbye and hello ,, he feels so much like a family

ofc !! speaking of family—spencer’s mom!! she loves you and welcomed you into their little family instantly

what spencer appreciates the most was that when he finally told you abt his mother and her schizophrenia/alzheimers, you were completely understanding and were 100% there for both him and his mother

it was rly important to him that his mother liked you, and when he talked w her while you were in the bathroom probably freaking out and she said she really liked you, a Huge weight was lifted off his shoulder

and ! others that are rly important to spencer are his three godsons’ families

jj and will as well as morgan and savannah all love you very much and are happy to welcome you into their families

okay now ,, hear me out—embarrassing spencer at work is simultaneously one of his favorite and least favorite things so you make sure to do it often

spencer had told you that he’d be holed in at the office doing paperwork all day, and you knew for a fact that he wouldn’t remember to get himself any lunch. so, you took it upon yourself to order his favorite indian takeout and bring it to the building. the decadent smell filled your nose as you finally arrived and picked up the white bag.

walking in, you headed to the elevator and were surprised to see derek in the lobby, receiving a kiss from savannah before she passed you on the way to the exit. she gave you a fleeting smile and a touch on the arm while derek called out to you. “hey, pretty girl! what are you doin’ here?” his words made you smile, and when you finally reached him, you gestured to the food in your hands. “ah,” he nodded, “pretty boy forgot his lunch.”

“that, and i like to embarrass him—just a little,” you tacked the last part on with a chuckle as derek placed a brotherly hand on your shoulder. he pushed in the button and motioned for you to enter ahead of him. the ride up to the team’s floor was spent in comfortable silence. morgan played a game on his phone until the ding brought him out of his cellular trance. garcia spotted you the moment you stepped out of the elevator and she ran over, enveloping you in a hug warm enough to melt ice burgs. “hi, pen,” you giggled, giving her a kiss on the cheek, “i’m here to bring my oh-so-smart, oh-so-scatterbrained genius boy his lunch.”

penelope’s laughter echoed behind you as she followed you and derek through the glass doors. when you picked spencer’s form out of the bustling bullpen, your face lit up like a meteor shower. it was possible to see galaxies in your eyes whenever spencer was in your general vicinity. “oh!” you sighed dramatically, pulling almost everyone from their midday work haze, “there is the absolute love of my life, the person i never want to leave my side, my one and only—spencer reid!” guffawing and small snickers circulate around the work space—the day had apparently been so slow that hotch cracked a grin at your antics. but, you saw nothing besides the dusty pink that painted your boy wonder’s cheeks.

“you forgot your lunch again, reid?” emily’s voice sounds from across floor, “i’m starting to think you like y/n coming in here everyday.” the rosy pink of his face and neck seemed to morph into a dark shade of crimson. he reached out to take the food, but you pulled it away, tapping your cheek and signaling what the price of the food was. by now, most of the other agents had gone back to work. however, spencer’s team was thoroughly enjoying the blush he’s taken on. quickly, your boyfriend pecks your cheek and snatches the food from your hands.

“love you, spence,” you practically sang after placing a kiss on his forehead. he stuffed food into his face, mumbling a loud love you, too through the takeout.

nighttime always brings out soft spencer

i mean,, he’s always soft,, but nighttime just Hits Different you know??

at night, whenever spence is able to spend time with you at home—his hands are all over you

whether your cooking, cleaning, doing work, or just watching tv on the couch, you and him are inseparable.

he’s rly not one for a lot of pda outdoors and in public—obviously, he’ll hold your hand, gives you hugs, etc but when you two are behind closed doors he’s extra cuddly

spencer leaves kisses wherever he can reach, your neck, you stomach, your cheeks, until he makes it to your lips and places a sweet peck on them

BET SPENCER LOVES TO TAKE BATHS W YOU !!

most of the time, it’s not sexual. he just relishes in the feeling of the water enveloping the two of you in a soft hug. the smell of shampoo floods his nose as you sit behind him, gently massaging your fingers into his scalp. it always makes him feel brand new once you both finally step out.

spencer doesn’t try to hide himself from you. standing there with nothing but love in his eyes, he takes in all of you. peppered kisses tickle as he plants as many on you as he can before you get dressed in pajamas

he truly can’t stand being away from you for too long

it really does drain him having to be away from you for long periods of time—two weeks is the Max of what he can take, but sometimes, he’s away longer than that

and he just has to deal

sometimes ,, although it’s a RARE sometimes ,, you two fight, but he never ever leaves for a case or for anything rly without telling you that he loves you

it all started when he was late for yet another dinner. you knew how much he cared for the people that he worked with and the people that he saved, but this was the third time in a month that he missed a date. the waitress tried not to let pity seep through her gaze, but it was inevitable. your forlorn appearance made her slip you the check with a small smile, asking for your money in the politest way possible. silent rage boiled inside of you as you signed your name on a copy of your receipt. undoubtedly, you were going to annihilate him when he got home.

you entered your apartment, muttering all types of profanities under your breath. it wasn’t until you turned into your bedroom that you saw spencer—a bright smile on his face and a bouquet in his hands. “who are those for?” you spat, the acid of your voice making your boyfriend flinch away. spencer’s bottom lip jutted out slightly, his eyes searching, trying to figure out why you didn’t accept his flowery apology.

“they’re for you,” he mumbled, casting his gaze to the floor, “i’m sorry.” you huffed out a breath, crossing your arms over your chest. sorry didn’t feel like it meant much when it came up constantly. walking over to spencer, you wrapped your arms around him, placing a hand on the back of his head and pulling it to the crook of your neck. you planted kisses along his shoulder, sending shivers down his spine.

“spencer. i waited. i waited for over an hour for you to show up,” you breathed next to his ear. spencer’s body deflated into yours and a sigh escaped his lips. he tugged you into his body, attempting to bring your natural warmth closer. he murmured over a thousand i’m sorry’s along the column of your neck, placing kisses whenever he needed to stop to catch his breath.

his phone vibrated against your stomach, and you feel the gentle flutter of his eyelashes against your bare skin as he leans his forehead into your shoulder, letting out a frustrated groan. garcia’s caller id mocked him as he stared reproachfully at his device. “hello,” he paused. “yeah. mhm. right now? garcia—we just got back?!” you heard her apologetic sound of garcia over the call, and you placed a small peck on spencer’s nose.

“y/n, love,” his voice was somewhat pained. he didn’t want to leave, “i-i’m sorry. i’m so sorry.” it was rare that spencer ever used nicknames, but this one warmed you from the inside out. exhaling knowingly, you let go of him, accepting his latest apology with a tiny nod. reaching out once more, he drew you back into him, enveloping you in a tight hug and swaying from side to side. “you know i love you, right? i love you so much, and i’m sorry that i’m missing a lot of the time.” his words rumble comfortingly against your skin, a little bit like the sound of rain showers pouring on the roof.

“i know you do. i love you, too, and i’ll be here when you get back.”

it’s not until he’s with his team that he knows

and by knows?? what do i mean?? I MEAN knowing you’re the one

the one he wants to spend the rest of his life with, the one he wants to cherish and hold and love forever, the one he wants to stay

a lot of people have come and gone in spencer’s life, but you always assure him that you’ll be there—no matter the trials or tribulations, you’ll stand by him—always

but n e ways ,, back to the team !

it’s a nice night out,, as opposed to getting only a bit wasted at bars ,, everyone, and i mean everyone was at rossi’s house, enjoying a nice italian dinner

you and spencer show up, looking stunning and not even the slightest overdressed ,, you’re wearing a simple purple evening gown to match his suit and tie

the both of you talk around, visiting savannah and morgan, jj and will, hotch, emily, rossi and krystall, penelope, tara, luke, matt and kristy

as per usual, spencer’s eyes are focused on you—so focused that he doesn’t even sense rossi and morgan’s looming presence behind him

derek clapped his hand onto your boy genius’ shoulder, but it wasn’t enough to tug him from his haze. spencer stared at you, laughing with penelope and emily, and he couldn’t bring himself to do anything but. rossi looked from reid to you and there was suddenly a sparkle in his eyes. he could see it—the way reid’s hazel gaze shone in the dim, atmospheric dinner lights of his mansion—and, it was obvious. the love that radiated from spencer was undeniable.

“kid,” morgan’s voice finally broke him out of his reverie, “you’re in love. i can see it.” a blush crept up reid’s neck to eventually reach his cheeks, dusting his expression with a saccharine pink. he nodded slightly, ducking his head and scratching his neck. “ah, reid—i knew you loved her, but i didn’t know you loved her.” glancing back at him, you made eye contact and beamed—the teasing of his previous colleague falling completely from his mind.

“you’re right,” he muttered, turning to his friend, “you’re right.” his repetition was louder as he launched into action, walking over to you with strength in his step. morgan’s teasing seemed to be the liquid courage that he needed. tapping your shoulder, spencer brought you away from your conversation with the ladies of the bau and took you out onto rossi’s balconey.

quizzically, your eyes bored into his nervously buzzed frame. spencer gripped your hands, lifting them up to his lips while finally meeting your gaze. “spencer,” you narrowed you eyes, “what’s going on?” smiling against your knuckles, he pulled something velvet and square from his pocket at an agonizingly slow pace. mouthing gaping, opening and closing over and over again, you searched for the right words. the love of your life stooped to one knee and popped the question.

“all this time, i’d thought that love was complicated. but now, something made me realize that it isn’t. you made me realize that it isn’t. it’s simple. as simple as knowing that you’re the one i love, you’re the one i want ...” he choked on his words, tears forming in the corner of his eyes, “y/n ... you’re the one i want to come back to. always. so ...” spencer flicked open the small box, revealing a gorgeous diamond, “will you marry me?”

various whoops and cheers were heard from the inside as you rocketed yourself into your lover, nodding your head with millions of words spilling from your lips.

it was simple.

it was love.

spencer loves you vv much and the feelings are reciprocated tenfold

you listen to his ramblings, you help him through his headaches, you comfort him after nightmares, you love him unconditionally.

you are his everything

he is yours

what more could he ask for?

#mine #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #derek morgan #jennifer jareau #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner #david rossi #tara lewis #matt simmons #luke alvez

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hyperfixation-stations · 3 years

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Why JJ gets too much blame

I’m prepared to get hate for this post as I know that the fandom is very pro Reid (and don't get me wrong I like him), but in the situations we see on the show where JJ and Reid get into these fights I think fans are putting way too much blame on JJ in those situations. Reid is the one who instigates them and pushes JJ until she lashes out, most of the time she isn't saying these things to be rude, she's saying them because she's been pushed to.

For example when her and Reid are taking about high school bullies the pair of them are having a conversation about high school and bullies and JJ says she doesn't remember, if you listen to how she says it, she's not saying she doesn't remember in a way that sounds like she's lying, she's saying it in a way that genuinely sounds like she can't remember and blocked it from her memory. So then Reid takes one look at her and says that she must be a mean girl based on appearance, he completely throws out everything he knows about her and what's happened in the time they've been friends. Especially knowing what we know about JJ in canon (her sister committed suicide and she found the body, she could not wait to get out of PA, her mother was absentee and held some resentment towards her about leaving). None of that points to JJ being a mean girl in high school, JJ probably had friends sure but considering how much she talks about hating where she came from its likely she wasn't apart of the popular crowd. So she gets angry and to be honest I don't think we can really blame her, he has no actual reasoning besides the way that she looks. So when she responds with "I was a nice girl, even to guys like you." She's doing to him what he just did to her, she is making a judgement based of his appearance. While it isn't her best moment, I think its understandable reaction.

Or what about when Emily comes back and he holds this grudge against JJ for not telling him that she was alive. This honestly might piss me off more then the last one. When it was reveled that Emily was alive Hotch explains that it was for Emily's own safety and that it was on a need to know basis. Now Reid words for the FBI I know that he knows that there are certain things that people can't talk about for the sake of security. And I get that he felt betrayed and upset that he thought that she died, but literally there was nothing that JJ could do in that situation. Emily was being followed by an international terrorist and the more people that knew she was alive and of her identity would put her life at risk. So when he is being cold towards JJ who did nothing wrong and was doing her best to protect her friend we can't place her lashing out solely on her. If Spencer had had a normal conversation with her about how he felt and maybe explained what was going on I don't think she blows up at him. Also it was super fucked up for him to tell her that he would essentially place the blame on her if he started using again. Let's remember that this all happened in a year that JJ was going back and forth between the middle east, had a miscarriage, most likely developed some kind of PTSD and had to keep one of her best friend's lives a secret so that way she could live, along with raising a kid and like being married. That is a lot on someone's plate, now throw on top of that Reid, she consoles him and lets him cry to her and she does her best to be a good friend to him. Now imagine doing all of that and then someone who is supposed to be one of your best friends saying they hate you for doing your job to keep your other friend alive and that if they fall back into their drug addiction that's on you.

Now I'm not saying that JJ is a complete saint in these situations, she isn't, she lashes out and gets angry or that Reid is a bad person, he isn't. What I am saying is so often I feel like fans ignoring Reid's culpability in these situations and he's not a completely innocent bystander who is getting yelled at for no reason. Something about the way that fans treat JJ in these situations has never sat right with me.

#criminal minds #jennifer jareau #spencer reid #emily prentiss

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motherjoel · 4 years

Text

Leading Lady (Spencer Reid x Reader)

chapter four- talented little thing

wc: 1.8k

summary: you get to know the team a bit more before your first tech rehearsal

a/n: hope you guys like it! im also taking oneshot requests if you guys feel like you’d like to request something :)

chapter index: chapter 1, chapter 2, chapter 3

It wasn’t long before your small apartment felt even smaller- the team had showed up within 5 minutes and although you were extremely overwhelmed, you knew that this was the safest you could be. Reid was frantically running around, talking to various people in FBI jackets and you felt like you were standing in the eye of a hurricane. You sat down at your kitchen table and put your head in your hands, trying to calm down when you felt a presence next to you. Looking up, you saw the blonde agent you had met the other day, Agent Jareau was her name.

“It’s going to be okay, I know the chaos can be a little much but this is how you know we're working our hardest,” she said, resting a comforting hand on your arm.

“I know, and I'm really grateful. You've all been great, and Spencers… he's… great,” you decided, smiling to yourself. So, hey, maybe you had a little crush on the guy. It wasn’t like you could act on it, with him sleeping on your couch, but you couldn’t help the butterflies when he rambles about facts or blushes when you notice him looking at you.

“Yeah he is,” she smiled. “And he seems to feel the same way about you. I haven’t seen him this worked up about a case in awhile,” she said, her voice sounding a little suspicious.

“Oh,” was all you could muster. Maybe he just feels responsible for you and he doesn’t want to mess up. Before the two of you could continue your conversation, the team made their way over to you with a woman on a video chat screen who you remembered to be the bubbly Garcia. Spencer had his eyes trained on the files in his hand, the rest of the team was focused on you. The woman with black hair, Prentiss, spoke first.

“Y/N, is there anyone in your life that has been acting differently recently, maybe taking more interest in you?” she asked. This was surprising to you.

“You mean… I know this crazy stalker killer?” you asked, shocked. You thought it was just some random dude who has a vendetta against thespians. Morgan spoke next.

“Well, the thing is, none of the other victims had been followed this closely. It’s a change in his MO, leaving these photos on your door. He's taking special interest in you, and we think it's possible he's killing these other women as a way of playing out his fantasies of you,” he says with a concerned look.

“So… this person is killing all of these women because of me?” you questioned, your chest growing tight. You looked to Spencer for comfort but he was still looking down at the file. You know you shouldn’t feel guilty, there wasn’t any way you could have caused this, but you couldn’t help the overwhelming feeling. It seemed like Agent Jareau could sense your panic and she grabbed your hand in hers, Morgan put a hand on your shoulder.

“It’s a strong possibility,” said Hotch. “Which is why it's important that you continue to go about your daily schedule as usual. We don't want the unsub to panic once we're onto him and get more people hurt. Spencer will continue to live with you and go everywhere with you, it's only a matter of time before the unsub messes up and makes himself known,” he finished. This was definitely a lot to take in, and although you appreciated the comfort of Agent Jareau and Agent Morgan, the one person you really wanted to comfort you was in a different world.

“So I can still go to my rehearsal tonight? It’s important that I don’t miss it, it’s the start of tech week” you said, hoping that it wasn’t too soon to be out in public.

“Tech week?” questioned Morgan.

“Oohhhh, how exciting!” said Garcia and you smiled at her, grateful that you still had the show to keep you sane.

“Tech week is the week before the opening performance of a production where all of the technical aspects of the show are present and used in the rehearsal process,” Spencer said, as if on instinct, without looking up.

“Yeah,” you agreed, “and it's kinda important I’m there…” you trailed off.

“Oh my gosh, I forgot we're protecting a talented little thing! Eponine is a dream role of mine!” Garcia almost shouts.

“Aw, stop you’re making me blush,” you laughed, briefly forgetting the situation you were in. That's when you noticed the stern look from Hotch and you looked back to see Garcia with wide eyes mouthing “I'll text you.” You smiled and gave her a thumbs up, returning your attention to Hotch.

“Yes, you can go. If the unsub knows your schedule, he knows that it would be out of the ordinary for you to miss this rehearsal,” said Hotch, much to your relief.

The agents soon finished up at your apartment, and Agent Jareau (who you now call JJ upon her request) gave you her phone number in case you had questions or wanted to talk, which you thought was very nice and you were glad the two of you hit it off.

Your apartment was now empty aside from you, still seated at the kitchen table and Spencer sitting on the couch. The agents were only in your home for an hour or two but it felt like an eternity. You hadn’t eaten yet all day so you decided to ask Spencer if he wanted to get lunch with you. You walked over to the couch and sat on the opposite side from him.

“So… wanna get some food?” you asked hoping he would look up from his work, and he did, but his face didn't show the soft smile that you had grown accustomed to.

“You want to go out now? Right after a stalker left a menacing envelope on your door?” he asked, with a skeptical look on his face. His harsh tone took you by surprise and your face visibly fell.

“Well I have a rehearsal later anyway, so we have to go out eventually…” you trailed off, his eyebrow still raised at you. “Fine, I guess we can order a pizza,” you huffed and walked back to the table where your phone was.

“I’m sorry,” he said, and you turned around, surprised.

“For what?” you asked, genuinely curious. He didn’t have anything to be sorry for, it's not like he was stalking you and killing these innocent women.

“I’m sorry that this is happening to you and I’m sorry you're stuck with me as company,” he said, looking away.

“Well I guess that first part makes sense, but you're great company!” you told him. He looked skeptical. “Seriously,” you continued, “I don’t know if any of the other agents would have ‘delved deep into their psyches’ with me, or gotten me to tell them about my dead dad,” you said bluntly.

“Well to be fair, you kind of did that without me asking…” he said with a slight smile. You gasped in fake shock.

“Ohhh, so that's how it's gonna be,” you laughed, the tension in the room dissipated. “Well I'm ordering the pizza now, cheese okay?” He nodded and smiled before focusing on his files once again. You were satisfied with yourself, glad that things seemed normal again.

Hours had passed since you ordered the pizza, which the two of you shared on the couch while watching Gilmore Girls (Reid, even being the genius he is, remarked how fast they talked in that show). It was time to leave for your rehearsal, and although Spencer insisted on driving, you could use the fresh air on a walk to clear your mind (or as fresh as the city could offer). You grabbed your purse, your script and water bottle and walked out the door with Spencer in tow, locking the door behind you. He offered to hold your script and you were hesitant but ultimately gave in.

The second your foot hits the sidewalk outside of your apartment you feel off. Maybe you were overreacting, but it was a similar feeling to the one of being watched that you had experienced a few days ago. You picked up your pace and Spencer seemed to notice and he did the same, his hand instinctively resting near his holster. You tried to make small talk in case anybody was listening in.

“So, the rehearsal is probably gonna be pretty long, but it might actually be entertaining. I mean you’ve read Les Mis in a couple languages so the show should be pretty easy to understand,” you jokingly told him. He chuckled beside you.

“And it's okay that I watch? Your director wont mind?” he asked.

“No, I'm sure it's fine if I just tell him once I get there. Fantine’s boyfriend watches rehearsals all the time,” you reassured him, before realizing what you had just said. “I mean not that you’re my, you know...” you said before he leaned down and lowered his voice.

“It's okay- the cover, remember? As far as anyones concerned, I'm your boyfriend,” he told you. This did about as much to reassure you as it did to give you butterflies. You just nodded and did your best to hide your blush. It wasn’t long before you were outside the theater, and you were thankful for that. You trusted that you were safe with Spencer but you couldn’t help being on edge

The two of you stepped inside the lobby area where your director was finishing up a phone call. He hung up the phone and turned to greet you.

“Y/N, hello! Thank you for being on time,” he said, his voice laced with stress. You wondered who he was mad at for being late.

“No problem John. Oh, is it okay if my boyfriend sits in on the rehearsal? He’s visiting from out of town and he loves theatre,” you said, trying to seem as convincing as possible, although you didn’t hate the lie of Spencer being your boyfriend.

“Fine, he can take a seat in the back. Go get your costume on, mic check in 30,” he said, barely addressing Spencer before darting off and picking up a phone call.

“So… I guess i'll see you soon. I might be able to sneak around and watch the first part of the show with you, I'm not onstage for a while,” you told him while leading him into the auditorium, seating him in one of the last rows.

“Okay,” he smiled. “Go break a leg,” he said, which sounded a little unnatural coming from him but it was really cute. The two of you laughed and you walked back out into the lobby to get changed in your dressing room, not taking notice of his eyes following your retreating form.

taglist: @mcntsee, @diesinspanishbcimhispanic, @chickens-are-life, @rexorangecouny

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid/reader #spencer reid angst #Criminal Minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds reid #derek morgan #spencer reid x you #spencer reid/you #penelope garcia #jennifer jareau #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner #hotch #david rossi

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lils-writes-stuff · 4 years

Text

Heathridge Manor

spencer reid x reader

Summary: Oregon and mystery has the reader and spencer growing closer in a case.

warnings: normal criminal minds things,

A/N: based on season 7 episode 19; this is one of my fav episodes

“You know, Y/N, you should join me for one of my hand-on-hand combat classes,” Derek spoke walking up to stand between Y/N and Spencer who were walking out of the elevator.

“And why’s that, Derek?” She asked, her head dramatically turning to the side to look at him.

“Well you got shot, you need to add some combat to go along to your scars,” he said laughing.

Y/N rolled her eyes at the man, knowing he meant no harm, and he genuinely wanted her to come to one of his classes.

“Morgan, I am a very good hand-on-hand fighter, remember I was top of the class at the academy,” she said, opening the door to the bullpen.

“She was, and when she was scared by her neighbor the other morning she--”

“Hey! Look Hotch texted we have a case let’s go,” Y/N interrupted Spencer before he could finish the embarrassing story.

“Alright wonder woman, whatever you say.” Derek laughed as he ruffled Y/N’s her walking towards the round table room, her and Spencer following closely behind.

The round table room was filled with the others as they sat down. Penelope being the only one missing from the room.

“Oh my gosh, I am so sorry for the delay,” Penelope said, swiftly walking into the room as she carried her laptop in her hands. “The system was down. We overwork her. And I had to go into the belly of the beast, who I affectionately nicknamed Persephone, and do some machine whispering, oh-” she stopped, grabbing her remote from Derek as he handed it to her- “thank you. Which is good because this one is a doozy.”

“It will never cease to amaze me how much she can get out in one breath,” Y/N said leaning over to Rossi next to her.

“Oh yeah,” he agreed.

“Emma Baker, thirty-eight, math teacher from Medford, Oregon. She went missing seventeen days ago, and her body was found yesterday afternoon at St. Baldwin’s, St. Baldwin’s is a now-defunct psychiatric hospital for the criminally insane. Now that is in Salem, Oregon, which is 270 miles away from Medford and we’ve been called in for the bizarre nature of the case.” Penelope then pulled up a picture of the body that was found.

The victim laid on a bed, hands folded across her stomach, and dressed in a dress from the sixteenth century.

“Wow, look at that dress,” JJ said as she looked at the picture.

“Was she going to a renaissance fair?” Emily asked.

“Not with her feet bound,” Y/N said as she looked at the victim’s feet.

“And the missing persons report says she was in jeans and a t-shirt,” Penelope added.

“Look at how she’s laid out, it’s almost like it’s a ceremony and she’s the sacrifice,” Derek said, flipping through the pictures in his hand.

“There’s obvious staging going on,” Rossi said.

“Could it be a ritualistic killing?” JJ asked.

“And the cause of death is still unclear, the M.E. report shows no sign of sexual assault or mutilation except mangled and missing fingernails,” Hotch explained.

“You know, there were rumors of satanic rites being performed at a Byberry Hospital in Pennsylvania, which is also an abandoned asylum,” Spencer said.

“Judging by all the graffiti, this place isn’t exactly locked down,” Derek observed.

“Uh, yeah, local P.D. said that vandals and vagrants have been breaking in,” Penelope added on to Derek.

“Which means she could have been killed elsewhere and placed here,” Y/N said.

“She had limestone under her fingernails, but limestone wouldn’t have been used when this asylum was built, so she was obviously held somewhere else,” Spencer said, looking over to Y/N.

“Well, the bottom line is, the unsub transported her hundreds of miles from her hometown for a reason,” Emily said.

“We just need to find out what that reason is, wheels up in 30,” Hotch said, dismissing everyone.

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

“Emma Baker was a divorced math teacher, no children,” Rossi said as they began going over victimology.

“She has a boyfriend, though, who’s a drummer in a goth band. Her Facebook has pictures of them at the Bram Stoker Vampire festival and Slayerama, which celebrates all things gothic,” Penelope explained.

“Hm, a teacher by day, Elvira by night,” JJ said with a posing smirk on her face.

“Well, clearly this is a woman with two different sides to her personality,” Derek said, taking a sip of coffee from his mug.

“Yeah, the boyfriend’s band pours fake blood all over themselves on stage,” Spencer said, looking at a page in the manila folder.

“Ah, reminds me of high school,” Y/N said as her eyes locked on the file in her lap.

The eyes of everyone on the team turned to her in question at her statement. She looked up, realizing what she had said didn’t make sense to them.

“Don’t ask.”

“Okay, so if these two were Satanists, it wouldn’t be a stretch,” Emily said, going back to the topic of victimology.

“Garcia, has the boyfriend been questioned by local P.D.?” Hotch asked.

“He has, by phone. He’s got an airtight alibi, he and his band have been on tour in Asia for the last month,” Penelope answered.

“If it’s not the boyfriend, the unsub could be someone in their circle,” Y/N said.

“Emily, you asked earlier if she was going to a renaissance fair, there’s something to that,” Rossi said, looking at Emily next to him.

“Based on the dress, there could be more of a connection to history then the occult,” Emily spoke.

“Renaissance fairs typically replicate sixteenth-century England,” Spencer began. “They surged in popularity since they began in the 1960s.”

“And it’s not just a bunch of nerds in customs eating turkey legs, you guys,” Penelope added.

Y/N hummed in agreement, memories of her and her high school friends going to the fairs coming to mind.

“A different time is somehow very important to this unsub,” Hotch said.

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

Y/N stood with Spencer and JJ as they waited for the tailor in the shop to come back. They had just gotten a call from Derek telling them that she died from nicotine poisoning through the garments of the dress she was sown into.

“This unsubs’, not the first to do this, poisoned garments actually have an incredibly long history, going all the way back to the shirt of Nessus, which killed Hercules,” Spencer explained, Y/N listening intently.

A door chimed as the tailor entered the room, bringing the attention of the three to him.

“Okay, so, I double-checked, and this fabric-” the tailor pointed to the fabric in the evidence bag- “is not manufactured for commercial sale,” he explained.

“Is it possibly something from the past that was maybe discontinued?” Spencer asked.

“No,” the tailor responded. “I can tell you one thing though, the fabric is a double-layer brocade. It was probably custom-made for someone, and is very pricey.”

“What about the dress, was there anything that stood out?” Y/N asked the man.

“Well, it’s homemade for one,” he responded.

“Okay, how do you know that?” JJ asked.

“Well, the seams are uneven. Whoever the seamstress is, she isn’t very skilled,” the tailor explained.

“What makes you so sure it’s a woman?” Spencer asked.

“Well, there’s some detail to the work in here that would require small hands,” the tailor explained.

Y/N looked up to Spencer, seeing how he also had the same questioning look on his face as her.

“Oh and this is interesting,” the tailor said to bring their attention to the picture of the dress. “See, now, the stitching on this hem, it’s narrow in some places and wider in others.”

“Small hands, easily distracted,” Spencer said, picking up on what the tailor was showing in the picture. “Let me ask you this, how old do you think someone could be and still effectively sew this?”

“Well, a pattern of this complexity, they’d have to be a teenager,” the tailor said, handing Spencer the items as he turned around and saw some fabrics being brought in.

“Okay, thanks,” Y/N said to the man as he walked away. She walked over to Spencer and looked at the pictures of the dress again.

“Based on the size of the victim’s body, I think only an adult male would be able to lift her and move a hospital bed,” JJ said, putting together all the information she had been told.

“So, what’re we looking for a team?” Y/N asked looking between JJ and Spencer.

“Or an unsub with a young accomplice who’s been coerced,” Spencer elaborated.

JJ and Y/N looked at each other both nodding as they silently agreed with what Spencer was saying. The three left the building and headed to the car parked outside the door.

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

Y/N walked into the room of the next victim with Emily and Rossi. The body adorning another renaissance style dress was laying in the middle of the room.

“Alice Pritchard was 22, a senior at Portland College, she went missing five days ago, a realtor found her body here this morning,” The detective explained as they walked up to the body.

“I don’t see any physical similarities to our first victim, she’s a lot smaller than Emma, different coloring, different age,” Emily pointed out as she observed the victim.

“So that means these women aren’t surrogates for anyone,” Y/N said.

“But he did lay her out the same way,” Emily added.

“She’s displayed in the center of the room just like the other victim in the asylum,” Rossi said.

“It’s almost like she’s being presented,” Y/N said, tucking her hands into her navy coat pockets as she walked to the end of the body.

Emily crouched down next to the body and inspected the dress. “There is so much attention paid to detail, this is also satisfying some internal desire of the unsub,” she explained.

“So, why leave bodies in an empty storefront and the asylum?” The detective asked.

“Good question,” Rossi said, turning around to look out the window. Y/N followed behind him to see what was out of the window also. “There should be a connection between the two.”

“Or maybe it’s not about the storefront at all, look,” Y/N said, pointing to a theater across the street.

“A theater company performing Shakespeare,” Emily said, reading the sign above the doorway.

The three turned back to look at the body.

“The dress, the white makeup, this victim could literally be wearing a costume,” Emily said as she looked between Rossi and Y/N.

“What if this was the closest to the theater that the unsub could get…” Rossi trailed off.

“Without being caught,” Y/N finished.

----------

Y/N stood next to Spencer as him and Hotch worked on what the numbers from the writing on the wall could be.

“Alice’s sorority sisters say she wanted to be a nurse and she was active in a Christian youth group,” Derek said as he approached the three.

“So the opposite of our last victim,” Y/N said as she let out a huff, sitting down in one of the seats around the table.

“Yeah, and if she was into anything dark, her best friends sure didn’t know anything about it,” JJ continued.

“She was in Portland collecting donations for an orphanage when she disappeared. The unsub could have approached her on the street,” Derek said, looking at Hotch.

Y/N looked over to Spencer, his eyes darting back and forth from the folder in his hands to the numbers written on the clear board.

“Hey, baby girl, you’re on speaker, give me the lowdown,” Derek said answering the phone.

“Chocolate thunder, you can have the whole kit and caboodle just say the word,” Penelope flirted. “Oh, and I cross-referenced the names you found on the wall with missing women in Oregon and I came up with some matches. Christine Torres is a forty-year-old homemaker from Eugene, Oregon. She went missing over a month ago after she dropped her kids off at school.”

“Any other women named Emma missing?” JJ asked.

“Uh-uh, just the one whose body we found, same thing with Alice,” Penelope answered.

“Garcia, what was the exact date Christine was reported missing?” Spencer asked as he backed away from the board.

“February 28th, Emma went missing on March 19th, and Alice on the 22nd,” Penelope answered.

Spencer walked back over to the board and looked at the numbers. Y/N stood up from her chair to stand next to him, wondering what it was he was seeing.

“What is it, Spence?” She asked him.

“Look at this.” Spencer grabbed her hand gently and pulled her behind the clear board. “I think these numbers are dates if you reverse them and chop off the eleven at the beginning and end--”

“That’s two days after each woman went missing,” Hotch interrupted.

“It’s more than that though look,” Spencer said coming back around to the front of the board, pointing to the first number. “March 1st is Sain Eichatadt day, March 21st is the Spring Equinox, and the 24th is the Feast of the Beast.”

“Those are all important holidays in the satanic calendar for sacrifices,” Y/N said coming to the same realization Spencer was. Their minds clicked together and now they both had the same thoughts running through.

“What about the eleven on the end?” Derek asked.

“To many of occultists, the eleven is symbolic of Lucifer,” Spencer explained.

“Okay, I thought we were moving away from satanic killings,” JJ said.

“Apparently we need to reconsider it.” Hotch’s eyes were trained on the file with the victims in them.

“There’s gotta be some sort of connection to the devil here,” Spencer said, which had Y/N nodding her head in agreement.

“Reid, what other upcoming dates are significant to Satanists?” Hotch asked.

“Good Friday, then Easter Eve, and then preparations begin in mid-April for the most important night of all--”

“Walpurgis night on April 30th,” Y/N said, turning to Spencer. He looked at her surprised, having no idea she knew so much about this stuff.

“Good Friday’s in two days, that means he’s hunting for his next victim today.” Derek’s concern in his voice was evident as he spoke.

“We need to give the profile soon,” Hotch said, agreeing with Derek’s concern.

They nodded, going their separate ways to do their work. As normal, Spencer and Y/N stayed by the boards to work, as they both found it was the easiest place to focus.

“Since when did you know all about these things?” Spencer’s back was turned to Y/N as he looked at the boards.

“Hm?” She questioned, not knowing what he meant.

“About these Satanic things, should I be concerned?” He joked with her, which she returned with a small laugh.

“There’s a lot of things you still don’t know about me, Dr. Reid.” Y/N winked at the boy wonder, making a beating red blush form on his face.

His mouth opened to speak, but truly he was too flustered to do so. The simple act of the wink making his knees go weak.

“No, in high school I had to write a paper on the Salem Witch Trials. I dabbled into some of the Satanic stuff to build my thesis more and give some context,” she said, shrugging as she turned back to her work.

Spencer nodded as if silently saying ‘cool’, his own attention now being divided back to the board.

As the two worked, they gave silent glances to each other. Unbeknownst to the other, these were the simple acts that formed their love for each other inside. While they had been dating for a while now, both of them falling in love each moment they spent together, they never voiced the feelings for each other.

Spencer not doing so because of his small fear of rejection. Thoughts that said, what if she doesn’t say it back? or does she not feel the same way?, were ones that vacated his thoughts. But when he looked at her smile, he couldn’t help but feel a fire burn in his heart, her presence being the very thing that started and fueled it. When he held her in his arms, her scent vacating his senses, he could feel all his anxiety leave him. The only thing mattering in those moments was her, and how she felt and smelled. How when she touched him he’d go weak and want nothing more than to just lay with her all day. The thoughts of their future would play like a movie in his head as he held her, and he couldn’t wait for him to act it out.

Now Y/N, she never voiced it because of her constant fear he would be taken away from her. Her fear being that the moment she said it, the next day he would be gone. Her tormentor taking him away and hurting the one she was beginning to love the most. She wasn’t afraid of love per se, but the thought of her having to say it aloud like she had to in front of Caroline to her friends, it only made her want to crawl away and hide. Y/N knew, she knew this feeling that Spencer was it for her, was true. Her heart could tell her it faster than her brain could even have time to think about it. When he held her or when she kissed him, the butterflies were everywhere in her. They fluttered in her stomach and they clouded all rational thought. And the one thing that gave her the most anxiety, was the fear of her great love being taken away.

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

“Based on the dresses and makeup the victims were found in, we’re looking for an unsub who is living in an elaborate fantasy world.” The crowd of officers listened intently as Emily began the profile.

“Be believes he’s special, as though he could be acting on behalf of the devil,” Y/N continued.

“This unsub tortured his victims by submerging them in water for days before killing them,” JJ said.

“Which means he’s deliberate and patient,” Y/N embellished on what JJ said.

“This guy has a vivid imagination,” Derek began. “The costumes and makeup suggest that he’s a history buff or he may be a fan of Shakespeare.”

“Using nicotine as poison is highly unusual, so he’s either very well-read or under the guidance of another,” Spencer spoke with his hands as he explained.

“His interests and delusions have caused him to become isolated socially,” Emily said.

“He can’t appear normal to his potential targets, and his crimes are not driven by sex or greed, but instead by his delusional belief system,” Rossi added.

“Although the bodies of only two victims have been recovered, there’s likely a third. Specifically, Christine Torres, who disappeared in February,” Hotch said.

“This unsubs exact age is difficult to determine, but he’s probably in his 20s to 30s,” Derek explained.

“The fact that he travels so far to abduct his victims indicates he has very specific selection criteria,” Y/N said, then turning to Spencer who began to speak.

“This unsub has a female or underage accomplice who sewed the dresses the victims were found in, but she may not be a partner in the traditional sense. It’s quite possible she was coerced into helping and may actually be a victim herself, ” Spencer said.

“Most importantly, this unsub is working according to a specific timetable,” Hotch explained.

“This timetable is corresponding with the Satanic calendar and his plans are to kidnap another victim of today,” Y/N said.

“Thank you.” Hotch’s words dismissed everyone.

----------

The room bustled as people were working on the case and other things. Y/N’s eyelids were heavy from the long day as the aimless chatter in the background made her sleepy. She reached over to her coffee cup, taking a large gulp of the warm liquid, praying that the caffeine would give her a boost of energy.

She looked at the photos Spencer held, her chair sliding closer to his so she could observe them closer, Spencer and the photos. The heat from his body radiating onto hers as she got close and she was able to be filled with his warm scent. Her eyes panned up to look at Spencer’s face, his brows furrowed in concentration as he looked at the white makeup on the faces of the victims.

“What’s got your wheels turning?” She asked him.

Spencer’s head turned to look at the woman next to him. He stuttered a bit as he formed his words, not realizing she was this close to him. “I’m not sure, something about it--” he cut himself short as both his and Y/N’s attention turned to Rossi as he spoke to them.

“So, Garcia checked out everyone associated with that theater production of The Merry Wives of Windsor, they’re all in the clear.”

“The gowns have to be connected to the theater somehow, it can’t just be a coincidence,” JJ said.

“There’s something else that’s been bothering me, why is he putting white face makeup on his victims after they’re dead?” Spencer said, voicing his question to the group he almost said to Y/N a minute before.

“Isn’t that what they wore in the Elizabethan era?” Rossi asked.

“Yes, but only upper-class women wore white face makeup, it was a symbol of virginity and purity,” Spencer explained to the group.

“But he’s dressing them like characters in The Merry Wives of Windsor,” Y/N said as she followed Spencer’s train of thought.

“And that’s one of Shakespeare’s rare plays about the middle class,” Spencer added.

“So, it’s inconsistent.” JJ looked at Spencer as she waited for confirmation on her statement.

“The makeup could mean that he believes death is purifying them,” Hotch spoke.

“What if this is like the Salem Witch trials, where they’d test the girls by trying to drown them? Y/N said something to me earlier about how she had to write a paper on them, and it got me thinking,” Spencer said.

“If they died, it meant they were innocent, and if they somehow survived, they were considered witches and then hanged,” Y/N elaborated on what Spencer was saying.

“Wonderful, a lose-lose situation,” Rossi said.

“But the unsub didn’t submerge the victims in water to torture them, it was some sort of test?” JJ asked, looking over to Spencer.

“With death being the only possible outcome,” Spencer answered.

“Well, if he believes he’s killing witches, he probably thinks that he’s a vigilante or a protector against evil of some sort,” Hotch said.

“Laying the victims out the way he did could be a message to the devil,” JJ added.

“A symbol of victory and a warning, like putting a head on a spike.” Rossi looked down from his standing position to Y/N and Spencer who sat next to each other. Y/N then looked at Spencer, her mind thinking the same thing as him as Rossi’s word’s made him pause.

“He’s not worshipping the devil,” Y/N said with realization.

“He’s trying to fight him.” Spencer looked over to Y/N as he finished what she was saying.

“So we have an unsub who’s challenging the devil, this could not get any more strange,” Y/n said.

-----------

“Missing woman is Sarah Gammon, she’s a 27-year-old graphic artist, to pick her up for her weekly breakfast together, she wasn’t there,” the detective said, walking into the room.

It was the next morning, the team only getting a couple of hours of sleep after the long night they had before.

“Where was she last seen?” Rossi asked.

“At a nightclub in Portland, the, uh, Mirage Room.” The detective stuttered as he tried to remember the name. “She went with a girlfriend who had to leave early.

“Morgan and I will check it out,” Rossi said as he exited the room.

As Rossi left the room, Hotch’s phone rang.

“Okay, so I did some varsity-level sleuthing,” Penelope said as soon as Hotch answered the phone. “And it turns out the costumes were donated to the theater by a young actress named Cate Harris. She was in their production of The Merry Wives of Windsor 16 years ago, which was the only other time that the play was produced there.”

“Where is she now?” Y/N asked.

“Oh, I was hoping you would ask because I have the answer,” Penelope spoke with excitement. “She died in 1998 in the fire at St. Baldwins psychiatric hospital.”

“I revoke my statement from last night on this getting weirder,” Y/N whispered to herself.

“Was she a patient there?” JJ asked.

“Oh, most definitely. And some say that she set the fire.”

“Garcia, can you get her medical records?” Hotch asked the woman.

“Yeah, I tried to do that, but it turns out that the new director of St. Baldwin's was a technophobe hyper-Luddite like our Dr. Reid, and he only wanted the psych records to be on paper to protect confidentiality,” Penelope explained.

“Okay.” Hotch picked up his phone and hung it up, then pocketing it. “Detective, we need you to get a copy of those records.”

“You got it,” the detective said, turning to walk out of the room.

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

The navy jacket was wrapped tightly around Y/N’s torso as her, Emily and JJ walked to the storage unit of St. Baldwins that lay beneath the asylum. They were stopped outside the unit as the caretaker unlocked it.

“Apparently, the state would have to pay for a new storage facility if they moved the records,” the detective explained as to why the unit stayed here. “Someone decided, why bother if the old place works?”

The three women nodded their heads as they heard the clanking of the lock coming off of the door. The caretaker opened the door, the creaking sound giving an eerie feeling to the air.

“Ladies.” The detective motioned his hands in a welcome motion as the three walked closer to the unit.

“No electricity, I take it,” Emily said as she noticed the absence of light.

“You would be correct,” the detective said from behind the three.

Y/N and Emily sighed, both of them pulling flashlights from their pockets as the entered the room. As Y/N walked through the room, her eyes followed the flashlight’s glow as she pointed it at all the different shelves. The creepy feel from the room made her on edge as she looked for the files they were looking for.

“Hey, I think I found it.” Y/N jumped slightly, not expecting to hear a voice jump in the quiet room.

She made her way over to Emily, JJ and the detective joining her as they looked over the report in Emily’s hand.

“Yeah, oh- first of all, Cate Harris was a stage name for Catherine Heathridge, a textile heiress. Her family kept the pseudonym for her medical admission to protect their privacy,” Emily explained as she read through the file.

Y/N picked up another file from the stack that was labeled ‘Cate Harris’. “According to the intake report,” she said as she began to read the file. “Catherine was an aspiring actress who went off her psychiatric medications when she was pregnant with her daughter. She had a minor part in The Merry Wives of Windsor 16 years ago when she became floridly psychotic. She was convinced the other actresses were the devil’s wives, so she stabbed one of them.”

“Is that when she was admitted here?” JJ asked.

“No, not yet,” Emily said as she looked at the report over Y/N’s shoulder.

“It looks like she had a son and a daughter. After she fled the theater--” Y/N gasped as her eyes gazed over the next line, handing the file to Emily as she wasn’t able to say what the woman did out loud. “You can finish it.”

“After fleeing the theater, she chopped off the left arm of her infant daughter,” Emily finished as she took the file from Y/N’s hand.

“Why would she do that?” The detective asked, voice stoic.

“To make the childless appealing to the devil,” Y/N said as she looked up to JJ and Emily. Her head previously resting in her hand.

“She believed that killing the devil’s wives was her mission on earth, which is what our unsub is doing now,” Emily explained.

“But she died in the asylum fire,” the detective stated.

“Someone else must be carrying out her mission,” JJ said.

“And I bet you it’s the son,” Y/N said, the gut feeling being present as she said her words to the others.

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

Y/N sat at the table while she told Spencer, Hotch, and Rossi about what they had discovered at the asylum. Her head resting on her hand as she looked up at the three men.

“If someone’s carrying on in Catherine’s mission, then it’s quite possible they both suffered from folie a deux, a shared psychotic disorder between two people who are extremely close and that would mean it’s most likely a family member,” Spencer explained after Y/N had told them all they found.

“It’s the son.” Y/N’s voice spoke in a sing-song tone under her breath.

“Maybe one or both of her kids,” Rossi stated.

“Garcia, I need you to find everything you can on the Heathridge family, specifically Catherine’s son and daughter,” Hotch ordered Penelope when she picked up her phone.

“Okay, finding it as we speak…” she trailed off as she began to look for what Hotch was asking. “Bingo, Catherine, a wealthy textile heiress, had a son: James, now twenty-six and a daughter Lara, now sixteen. Father died in a speedboat accident right before Lara was born. They were raised by their grandfather in a mansion outside Portland after their mom was committed.”

“Is the grandfather still alive?” Hotch asked.

“No, he died last year,” Penelope answered.

“That could have been the stressor,” Spencer thought aloud.

“Penelope, where are the kids living now?” Y/N asked.

“James was kicked out of a seminary in Colorado three years ago, but that’s still his listed address. Lara dropped out of school six weeks ago, coincidentally on her birthday and the family home is her listed address, and I’m sending you pictures...now.”

Photos of the house and kids appeared on the tablet screen. Y/N stood up and walked over next to Rossi as he clicked on the picture of the son.

“That could be him, the man at the night club who left with Sarah Gammon,” Rossi said as he inspected the picture.

“All right, contact the seminary,” Hotch said, looking at Spencer and Rossi. “Garcia, I’m gonna need an address, Y/N let’s go.” Hotch nodded for Y/N to follow him as he began to walk out of the room.

“Yes, sir,” she responded and followed him.

“Be safe.” Spencer’s words made Y/N turn back and give him a reassuring smile that said, I always am.

“Whipped,” Rossi said, covering it up with a cough as he walked away to grab his phone. Spencer just looked at the man confused, but simply went back to his work.

---------

The cars pulled up to the manor. Sirens turned off so that they still maintained the element of surprise. They piled out of the vehicles, JJ, Emily, and Derek joining Hotch and Y/N back at the station.

“Morgan, you and JJ take the back, we’ll take the front,” Hotch said.

JJ and Derek nodded and made their way around back, while Y/N, Hotch, and Emily stayed upfront.

Y/N examined the front of the house. It wasn’t a manor in the traditional sense, it had more of a woodsy feel to its exterior.

“You see that?” Emily asked Hotch and Y/N.

Y/N looked back up at the house, finally noticing what Emily was talking about. “There’s a girl in the window.”

“All right, you check up there-” Hotch nodded to Emily. “Me and Y/N will look for James.”

Emily nodded as they took off into the house, Y/N and Hotch separating from Emily as she headed up the stairs.

Hotch pushed the door to the kitchen open, turning quickly to his right and Y/N to the left. The darkrooms they entered were only lit by the flashlights. They walked through the rooms slowly, only separating for a second to go into two different sides of the room.

Y/N walked down the steps to the basement first, Hotch now behind her as he followed closely. The basement was cold, damp, and slightly lit through the windows by the moonlight. Y/N’s heart pounded in her ears, one foot in front of the other as she moved down the steps. Her light shined as she saw the body of the missing girl on the ground by what appeared to be well.

Y/N felt a sharp pain hit her hip. She groaned as she fell to the ground, her hand clutching her hip as she felt the bruise already forming.

Hotch also let out a groan as he was hit in the legs, his gun, and flashlight sliding across the ground.

Y/N looked up to see James get tackled by Hotch and shoved into a wall. James head-butted Hotch giving him a second to go over and try to hit Y/N while Hotch stumbled back.

James brought a fire-poker around from his left side, but before he could hit Y/N with it, she kicked it out of his hand. She pushed herself up onto her feet and got a quick, hard punch in to throw him off. This allowed Hotch to grab him and shove him back to a wall. The two threw punches back and forth before Hotch pulled him away and tried to push him into the ground.

Hotch had him off his guard and he began to push him towards the well. When James fought back and punched Hotch, Y/N came over and gave a hard kick to James’ chest.

James stumbled back, the kick was just enough to send him falling onto the edge of the well. When he came back up and lurched for Hotch again, clearly being his focus, Hotch was quick to throw him back, having him fall into the well this time.

Y/N stood next to Hotch as they looked down into the deep well, James’ body laying at the bottom.

“Teamwork.” Y/N huffed the word as she looked at Hotch who just shook his head and the two made their way out of the basement.

“You’re bleeding, better get that looked at,” Hotch said, pointing to Y/N eyebrow that was in fact bleeding from when she hit the ground.

When they reached outside, Hotch told the paramedics where James was and made Y/N get looked at after her many protests.

“I’m fine, seriously.” Her protests did not make him change his mind.

“That’s an order.”

Y/N now stood with Derek as a paramedic put some butterfly bandages on the cut after accessing it was only a superficial cut.

“You good wonder woman?” Derek asked, the nickname from the previous day sticking.

“Oh yeah, you should see the other guy.” Her joke, cliche as it was, made Derek chuckle anyway as he turned to Emily as she approached.

“So, Lara is gonna be okay,” Emily said, walking over to the rest of them. “She confirmed that the bodies were left out as messages to the devil.”

“Well, her brother’s dead, so what happens to her now?” Derek asked.

“There’s always foster care,” the detective answered.

“For an heiress?” Y/N said the paramedic finished with her face and had moved on to the ambulance.

“Yeah, I don’t think so,” JJ agreed.

“There will be guardians and trustees coming out of the woodworks before she gets put into foster care,” Y/N said, making her teammates chuckle.

“So she’ll end up back here, in a house that breeds delusions,” the detective said, looking back to the house.

“Hopefully not,” Hotch spoke.

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

“Okay, okay, what is the best book you have ever read?” The question made Spencer ponder.

Y/N and Spencer sat in a booth at a diner in D.C., the table holding breakfast foods for the late-night date. The warm glow that surrounded the two made all their worries vanish, their attention only on the other.

“That’s a hard one, I’ve read so many.” His thumb and pointer finger lined his jaw as he placed his head between the two. “I mean, I guess fiction might have to be one of Dickens works.”

Y/N nodded her head, her legs pulled up in the seat and she sat with her back to the wall. Spencer began going on about Oliver Twist and Y/N was listening intently to every word he spoke. Watching how his lips would move faster as he began to get excited about something he was saying, or the way his voice would go an octave higher when his hands moved as he spoke. A smile played on her lips as she listened to him as he went on.

She was so engrossed in her own mind of watching him that she didn’t even notice he asked her a question until his lips stopped moving.

“Sorry, what?”

“I said, do you have a favorite work by Dickens?” He repeated his question with a laugh.

“Oh, probably Great Expectations, but I’m more of a fan of Poe, more than anything,” she answered. Her legs moved under the table as she sat facing Spencer in the both.

“For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams, of the beautiful Annabel Lee,” Spencer quoted the poem, Anabel Lee. A smile formed on his as he watched a bashful blush on Y/N’s cheeks.

The simple poem about a tormented, beautiful young love never failed to have Y/N swoon. In high school, Anabel Lee was the poem she would read repeatedly in her textbook. The words she could quote by heart only sounded so sweeter coming from Spencer’s lips.

“I’ve always been a fan of dark romanticism,” she spoke. “This case we just had, reminded of something out of a book though if I’m being honest.” She brought her milkshake straw up to her lips, taking a sip of the creamy liquid.

“It was an odd one,” Spencer agreed.

Y/M hummed, her lips still wrapped around the straw. She pulled her eyes off Spencer to look out the window. She watched as people walked by, couples holding hands, men getting home from their offices late, but one stood out to her.

From a distance, about fifty yards across the street, a dark-haired man stood, staring at Y/N and Spencer out the window. She had no idea who this man was, but it made her stomach drop as she got a bad feeling.

“Spencer I think we should go home now,” she spoke calmly.

He furrowed his brows in confusion. “Okay, any reason why?”

“Because there is a man out there who has been staring at us for I don’t know how long, and I don’t want to deal with it anymore.” She stood up from her seat in the booth, wrapping her navy jacket around her body.

Spencer did the same as he stood up and walked next to her out of the building. “Do you think it has anything to do with--”

“I have no clue--”

“Could it?”

“I don’t know, let's just go back to your place, it’s closer.” So, that’s what they did. Spencer grabbed Y/N’s hand protectively and led her down the street while she kept her head down. The man’s face still in her thoughts, no expressions, just stoic and unsettling. His face was almost calm, seemingly normal to an untrained eye, but she knew. She could only hope this had nothing to do with Caroline and she was simply overreacting.

Tag List (let me know if you want to be added!!):

@throughparisallthroughrome @word-scribbless @nintendumbfuck @confused-and-really-hungry @justine-en @andiebeaword @itsarayofsunshine @baby-i-am-fireproof @abitofeverythinggg @nanocoool @marceline-is-my-spirit-animal @fancyfaucet @im-a-raging-gay @atletino @mo-whore

#spencer reid imagine #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds meme #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch hotchner #derek morgan #derek morgan imagine #spencer reid smut #spencer reid series

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spencers-renaissance · 4 years

Text

turns out that I need you now (much more than you need me)

Summary: Spencer is suffering in silence and it's only made worse when the team messes up and makes him feel even more hurt and insecure. When Hotch goes to check on him, though, things start to look up.

Tags: hurt/comfort, hurt!spencer, getting together, depression, anxiety, happy ending

Pairings: Hotch x Reid

Word Count: 3.5k

Read on AO3

The crushing pit of loneliness deep inside Spencer’s tummy never really seems to leave, the kind that makes his breath snag and his heart rate speed up just a little. He’s surrounded by people who love him, he knows that, but it doesn’t stop the heartache from consuming him; sometimes it only exacerbates it. When he sees JJ and Emily share a private joke at the coffee machine or Derek and Hotch clap each other on the back with familiar smiles on their faces, it reminds him just how removed he is. The BAU would die for him, he knows that. He’s just not sure they’d live for him.

Sometimes he thinks they notice. When Rossi shoots him a concerned look when he’s a little too quiet on the jet or Alex sits with him for just a bit too long after a case, he thinks you’re so close. You’re nearly there. But then Rossi turns to look out the window and Alex is needed somewhere else, and he’s on the sidelines again.

It’s not like it’s new, either. He’s always been a messy melting pot of insecurities and deep feelings of sadness that never fully go away, but he can’t lie to himself. Ever since the meeting last Tuesday in the briefing room, it’s been all-consuming.

He knows they hadn’t meant to, and they’d probably be horrified if they knew how much it had affected him, but the entire interaction had felt like a knife slicing cold and slow under his skin. The case had intrigued him more than others had done recently and it had been a nice feeling, being excited about the work again, so he’d told them about a study one of his colleagues had conducted during his second Ph.D. and how he’d assisted, and Derek rolled his eyes. JJ and Emily stifled a mocking smile. Rossi had tried not to laugh at the girls while Penelope had looked mildly annoyed he’d derailed her briefing. Alex, to her credit, had looked much more pissed off at their reactions than his tangent, but it was Hotch who was the nail in the coffin.

“Reid, please,” he’d frowned disapprovingly, tone harsh as his words slammed into him. “You need to be quiet. Derailing these briefings with stupid and unhelpful tangents is unprofessional and they need to stop. Garcia.” He indicated for her to continue and she’d looked at him gratefully as they all turned their attention back to the screen.

Spencer’s life, really, was a lucky dip of humiliating moments that chipped away at his confidence and sense of self-worth, but this one felt like it took the cake. The feelings that had plagued him for almost a decade throughout his career alongside these people finally felt validated, and it wasn’t even as earth-shattering as he’d expected. There was no drama, no theatrics. Everyone simply turned away while the bottom of his stomach collapsed and his breathing snagged. Even Hotch, the man he’d loved since he joined the BAU, the man who had always been protective of him, looking out for his feelings, his well-being, everything. Even Hotch couldn’t stand him anymore.

He’d worked the case fine, of course. Despite what Hotch had told him, he knew he could be professional when it was needed and he wasn’t about to compromise that. So he offered his expertise when required and kept his tangents in check, making sure to never relax in case the real Spencer spilled out and he started rambling again. It had taken a long time for him to be comfortable enough to let that side of him reveal itself to the team, and it was excruciatingly painful to pack it back away, lock it up, and pretend to be the person he’d tried to be for the majority of his life.

The unsub was apprehended, which gave him a small jump of excitement and satisfaction for a moment before the reality of the situation set back in and he was brought back down to earth. Alex sat next to him on the jet, placing a reassuring hand on his forearm for a second before offering a smile and turning to her crossword. His arm burned with the need to throw himself at her for a much-needed hug, touch-starvation settling deeply into his bones. Restraint felt painful.

The case is over now, though. There’s no adrenaline rush to keep him going, no puzzle motivating him anymore. He’s trapped at his desk, sat next to Derek and Emily’s banter and it feels like highschool again, making himself as small as possible while he prayed for no one to notice him, listening to everyone having a good time. The paperwork occupies him for a little while, but it isn’t long before he’s pulling out files to consult remotely on cases and begging Hotch for a little extra to do.

If he keeps his brain busy, his broken heart won’t weigh him down so much, he rationalises, but even the trip to the coffee machine feels like dragging himself up a mountain. He feels completely oblivious to his surroundings; like he’s stuck in a sea of molasses and everyone around him is speaking in slow-motion, blurring in comparison to the weight of everything he’s feeling.

It only becomes a problem the Wednesday after the meeting, when he finds that he just cannot get out of bed. He’s been on autopilot for at least a week, probably a lot longer than that if he’s honest with himself, and it’s like that function’s just… stopped working. He can’t get up and grab a banana before jumping in the shower and shaving, shrugging on his suit and drinking his first coffee of the day, he can’t even find the willpower to roll over in bed.

Eventually, his alarm turns itself off and he closes his eyes and goes back to sleep.

★

“Reid? Reid, can you hear me?”

The world gently comes back into focus as he concentrates on the voice coming from behind him, and the first thing he notices is it’s dark outside; somehow the entire day managed to pass him by without him realising. The second thing he notices is how absolutely ravenous he is. Stirring slowly, he eventually rolls over, only to see Hotch crouching by his bed, still in his slightly rumpled suit, though he’s not wearing a tie.

“Hotch?” he questions, sounding as baffled as he feels. Seriously, what happened to make him sleep the day away only to wake up to his boss calling his name? He feels like he should sit up and make himself presentable, but he simply doesn’t have the energy and his bed is far too warm for him to have any desire to unfurl himself from the covers.

“How are you feeling, Spencer?” Hotch replies, voice soft and careful, and that gets his attention. Hotch rarely calls him Spencer and he’s using the voice he talks to Jack or frightened victims with, not him, never him. He meets Hotch’s eyes for the first time, and they’re filled with an emotion he hasn’t seen before, one Hotch has clearly been withholding from him, but all he wants to do is melt into it, sink into the warmth and gentleness he knows will welcome him.

Still, he can’t find the motivation to question anything that’s happening, instead burying deeper down under his duvet and sighing softly. “Tired,” he mumbles eventually, but he realises something else, too, and decides to admit it. What’s the worst that could happen at this point? “Sad.”

Hotch is quiet for a short moment before he replies. “Have you eaten anything today?”

“Don’t think so,” Spencer murmurs, letting his eyes droop closed again.

“I came because I was worried about you,” Hotch says soothingly, answering the question Spencer’s been too tired to ask. “You didn’t show up for work today but we were flat out with a local case all day so I couldn’t come and check on you until now. What’s going on, Spencer? Why didn’t you come in today, or at least call me?”

He has to wait a moment to muster the energy, but eventually, Spencer sits up slightly, leaning against the pillow and the headboard, and meets Hotch’s eyes again. Thinking about what he’s about to say -- what he’s about to admit to somebody else for the first time -- makes him tear up a little, the reminder of the pain he’s been in for years aching deep and raw. “The simple answer is I’m exhausted, Hotch,” he replies, voice thick and eyes droopy. “I’m mentally and physically exhausted and I’m sad, and lonely, and afraid and I feel like I’ll never be happy, I feel like an outsider, the odd one out, and I’m done, I just cannot keep going like this, it’s impossible. And this morning I woke up and I just couldn’t will my body to get out of bed. Not caring about the consequences, I turned my alarm off and fell back to sleep.”

He’d looked away during his confession, but when he looks back at Hotch, he sees that his own eyes aren’t the only ones watering. “Spencer,” he starts, but his voice catches and he has to take a moment to compose himself. “Why didn’t you say something? You could have told me, I-- I would have helped you.” Spencer’s seriously taken aback by the scene in front of him: Hotch is crouched on his bedroom floor, looking genuinely destroyed because of some stupid emotions he’s been feeling?

“No, no. This is my own battle, I don’t deserve your help,” Spencer refutes, defeated. He sinks lower into the comfort of his mattress. “You don’t really want to help me anyway, I’m just a member of the team and you know you can’t have me lacking. I’m an obligation.” He spits the last word out as he closes his eyes against the emotional pain twisting harshly in his stomach.

“Spencer, that’s not how it is at all,” Hotch replies gently. “First and foremost, you’re my friend, and I’d do anything for you, especially anything to help and protect you. That’s how the entire team sees you--”

“You don’t have to lie,” Spencer cuts him off. “I know I’m irritating and the only reason I haven’t been booted off yet is my ability to read quickly and remember important facts. Except that’s the reason you guys resent me: I’m annoying, I go off on tangents, and I’m too clever for my own good. Too socially awkward to fit in, I know it.”

“Spence, is this about what happened last week?” Hotch ventures carefully, and Spencer flinches. “I’ve been meaning to apologise for that all week but there was no good moment, and truthfully I was ashamed. It was an inexcusable way to treat you and handle the situation, I’m so very sorry. I know that it probably made you feel small and scolded, like an outcast, exacerbating those feelings, but that wasn’t my intention, you have to realise that. I was tired, I’d been up all night with Jack who had the stomach flu, and with how time-sensitive the case was combined with the pressure coming from above, I was stressed and on edge. It wasn’t your fault, I’m the one in the wrong here.”

That makes him look up, searching Hotch’s face for signs of insincerity. “You were right though,” he denies, but his voice is weaker, wavering. “Besides, it wasn’t just you, it was everybody.”

“I’m sure that they’d feel awful if they knew how they made you feel, but nobody on this team would ever want to make you sad or feel left out, and they certainly wouldn’t want you to feel ashamed of who you are, or your incredible talents,” Hotch responds, firm and insistent. He reaches out to take Spencer’s hand. “You are so deeply loved by all of us, Spence, I wish you’d believe that.”

He looks away at that, fiddling with the fabric of the duvet cover. “Really?” he asks, hopefully. He finds it hard to believe, but Hotch looks so sincere and his voice sounds truthful. Plus, Hotch doesn’t make a habit out of lying.

“Really,” he confirms, with that small, fond smile that only graces his face on rare occasions and makes Spencer’s insides fuzzy. “Now, here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to fetch us some dinner and we’ll eat it together on the couch, and then tomorrow I’m going to make a doctors’ appointment for you, okay? I know that that incident last week might have triggered this, but clearly, there are some serious underlying concerns if it was able to impact you so severely and it would make me feel better to know that you’d seen a medical professional, alright?”

“Okay,” Spencer nods, smiling back at the warmth in Hotch’s eyes.

★

Hotch dashes out to pick up a sharing platter with an excessive amount of sides from a Lebanese restaurant Spencer had mentioned he loved ages ago and helps him out to the sofa in his cosy apartment when he gets back. He wraps him up in the fluffy blanket he keeps on the arm of the sofa and hands him a plate filled with delicious food. His actions are almost loving, Spencer thinks as Hotch flicks the TV on to the history channel, knowing that it’s the only thing he’ll really watch, but he quickly quells those thoughts. Hoping is pointless.

“Is that alright, Spencer?” he asks softly, as he sits on the opposite end of the sofa and begins to tuck into his similarly loaded plate of food.

“Perfect,” Spencer smiles, feeling safe and content for the first time in weeks. Having Hotch so close to him feels like a tether to the rest of the world, a grounding force stopping him from floating away.

“Good.”

They watch the TV quietly, appreciating each others’ presence in a soft, familiar kind of way. It’s halfway through the program they’re watching about industrialisation when their plates are empty and resting on the coffee table that Spencer speaks up. “Did you know that the progression of technology really isn’t as linear as we might expect? Ancient civilisations simply invented the technology they needed; they weren’t necessarily primitive just because they didn’t have something that we now deem as essential. The Inca, for example, did have wheels, but they used them for short distances, not for long-distance transportation because of their mountainous terrain. Instead, they had complex road systems that they navigated with pack animals and they built suspension bridges long before Europeans because it was the technology they required. Egyptians never even bothered with the wheel, because their terrain was full of sand; instead, they were excellent at building boats. Technology is invented, lost, invented again all over the world.”

He blushes a little when he finishes his explanation, and looks over at Hotch properly, surprised at the expression on his face. “You’re brilliant, you know that Spencer?” he says fondly, looking genuinely in awe of the man in front of him.

“No,” Spencer tries to dismiss him, “I’m really not, it’s just what I was bor--”

He’s abruptly cut off when Hotch surges forward, crossing the small amount of distance between them on the sofa quickly, capturing his surprised, parted lips with his own. Hotch brings his hand up to rest firmly on Spencer’s jaw, caressing his thumb gently across his cheekbone as he kisses Spencer with a fervent passion he’s never experienced anyone feel for him before.

Spencer’s wide eyes meet Hotch’s melting ones as they pull gently away. “I mean it,” Hotch says softly, running his thumb over Spencer’s bottom lip. “You’re incredible, and I can’t get enough of you.” He presses another chaste kiss to his lips as if to prove he means what he says.

“I’ve been waiting for this for a long time, Hotch, you have no idea,” Spencer says breathily, staring up at him in awe as he tries to appear more put together than his mushy insides will allow.

“Me too,” he laughs softly, warming Spencer’s heart even more. “But if this is going to work, you’re going to have to stop calling me Hotch.”

“Deal,” Spencer giggles, pushing away his blanket in favour of straddling his legs and pressing another loving kiss to his lips. “Aaron.”

“God, I love the way my name sounds dripping from those lips,” he groans, gripping his waist gently, rubbing his thumbs over his stomach as he leans up to kiss Spencer again.

They kiss quietly on the sofa with the history channel playing in the background for a while, losing track of time as they melt into one another. Eventually, though, Spencer gets tired, shifting off Aaron’s lap to sit next to him, resting his head on his chest. Aaron gets the hint and wraps a protective arm around his waist, pulling him as close as possible. “I’m sorry you’ve had such a rough time, Spencer,” he whispers into his hair. “As long as you want me here, though, I promise I’ll do everything I can to prevent you from feeling like that again.”

“I know,” Spencer whispers back, drawing comfort from the musk of Aaron’s cologne and the subtle scent of sweat lingering behind it. “Just being like this makes me feel safe, though. Less alone.”

“I’m glad, sweetheart.”

Spencer nearly squeaks at that, face flushing dark red. “Sweetheart?” he asks, embarrassed.

“Do you not like it? I’m sorry Spencer, I don’t have to call you anything other than your name.”

“No, no,” he rushes to clarify. “I like it, I really do, you just surprised me, is all.”

“Good,” Aaron says, and Spencer can hear the fond smile in his voice.

“Will you,” Spencer starts shyly, before clearing his throat. “Will you stay tonight? I don’t want you to go, I want the company.”

“Of course, sweetheart. Whatever you need,” he says comfortingly, rubbing his hand gently across the span of his tummy.

It’s the best Spencer’s slept in months probably, wrapped up safely in Aaron’s arms. The bed is warm and toasty and he feels genuinely Not Alone, like he has someone in his corner. A night of comfortable and unbroken sleep is exactly what he needs and it’s what Aaron’s comforting presence and protective embrace gives him.

★

Luckily the FBI’s health insurance gets him the therapy he needs and some anti-anxiety medication which together slowly starts to improve his self-esteem and perception of those around him. Aaron’s steady support doesn’t hurt either, always there to give him a cuddle and remind him of all the good in him and others, how loved he is and how he’ll never have to be alone again, not if he doesn’t want to be.

Gradually, Spencer realises that the looks JJ and Emily shoot one another are fond; they both love his little tangents and are fondly amused by them. Spencer had never noticed the smile on his face when Derek rolls his eyes, simply teasing him in the same way he does when he ruffles his hair and calls him ‘pretty boy’ on the way to the kitchen. His entire perception of how others saw him had been completely skewed by his mind, and he was slowly unlearning those immediate assumptions.

And if it ever did go too far, he had Aaron to glare at the offending party, and squeeze his hand comfortingly under the table, giving him a cuddle and holding him protectively as soon as they were in private.

Coincidentally, it’s exactly that ritual that gets them figured out a few months later. A local police officer had been pretty awful to him when Spencer was simply trying to explain how they’d come to a certain conclusion about an aspect of an unsub’s profile. Aaron takes Spencer with him to grab some lunch for the team and as soon as they get out of the SUV and step into the parking lot of the local sandwich shop, he pulls him close and tells him how much he loves him.

They do not see Derek and Emily coming out of the shop with bags of food in their hands having had the same idea as them, mouths open until they pull away and it is much too late. Their sworn secrecy does not last long, not that they’d really expected it to, and soon the entire team is in a perpetual state of teasing. Spencer sort of loves it, though, and Aaron will put up with the type of intrusion into his private life that he usually resents if it makes Spencer smile as wide as it does when Derek or JJ make an off-handed comment about how gone for him Aaron is.

Slowly, Spencer feels that empty pit of loneliness fill back up, the aching sadness eases when he has so many hands willing to help him carry the burden. The happy ending he’d been craving for so long, the ending he’d written off as unattainable and stupid to wish for, he finally had in his hands, and he wasn’t about to let it go anytime soon.

Yes, Emily and Alex were never officially in a season together but shhh I’m writing I can do what I want.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds writing #spencer reid #aaron hotchner #hotch #hotch x reid #my writing #hotchreid

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rainy-day-gracie · 4 years

Text

Old Friends 7

Hello!!

This chapter KILLED me. Just get ready.

More angst and fluff!!

Spencer Reid x Reader

Enjoy :)

Chapter 7:

Just breathe. In and out.

That’s what I told myself as I rode the elevator up to the BAU.

It’s been almost six months since the day I realized I was going to live. Six months since someone I called my friend beat me to a pulp until my ex-boyfriend put a bullet in his brain.

Riding up the elevator felt so much like my first day starting at the BAU. Except this time, I actually knew these people. And after my former experience, I couldn’t even bring myself to trust any of them anymore, even though I knew they would never try to hurt me.

I had thought that before also.

The first person that saw me was Morgan. “Hey, pretty girl is back!”

A genuine smile fell across my lips. “I couldn’t stand watching baking shows anymore. Figured it was time to get back to work.”

“We’re so happy you’re back, YLN,” JJ said as she patted my arm with a smile. I fought back the flinch reaction I had to her touch.

“Are you absolutely sure six months is enough time?” I heard Spencer ask from behind me.

I didn’t even turn around when I answered. “Yes, Spencer, I’m fine.”

He didn’t look too convinced when he stood next to me. Prentiss smiled when she saw me, and she walked over to stand next to JJ.

“We may have a surprise for you.” Prentiss gestured for me to follow her to the briefing room.

“Please tell me it’s cake,” I whispered to JJ. She laughed and nodded.

I realized when I walked in that it was red velvet cake. It was my favorite.

Now it only reminded me of my blood spilling over Spencer’s hands in that basement.

My smile never wavered. “You guys are the absolute best.”

I heard the thudding of Garcia’s high heels and I turned around to face her. “Oh my gosh, the beautiful genius woman has returned!”

She ran forward to hug me, and I immediately shrank into myself and took a few steps backwards. She retreated with an embarrassed look on her face, and I quickly tried to comfort her. “Sorry... um, I’m still struggling with touch.”

“No, no, I’m sorry. It’s just a habit.” She looked so sad in that moment that I felt bad about retreating.

“It is very wonderful to see you, Penelope.” I lightly patted her on the arm.

Hotch and Rossi walked into the room.

“It is very good to have you back, YLN,” Hotch shook my hand and Rossi kissed both my cheeks, making me smile.

The day passed slowly, catching up on paperwork. I felt Spencer keep glancing at me, and I finally couldn’t take it anymore.

“Spencer if you keep looking at me like I’m going to fall apart, I will slap your pretty face so hard.”

He flushed. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. I’m just telling you that you don’t need to do that. I’m fine.” I could feel the lie in my mouth, and I knew Spencer could see it on my face.

I am not fine. Not even close. Every time I look in a mirror I see the scars riddled across my body. Whenever I sleep I hear my captor’s voice whispering in my ear. The memories seemed to laugh at me. You may have escaped Barry, but you can’t escape us.

As five o’clock neared, I was counting the minutes until I could drop the act of the strong survivor.

My heart sunk as I watched Garcia walk across the hall. “Ladies and gentlemen, we have a case!”

Disappointment must’ve been clear as day on my face because Spencer and Morgan pulled me aside before we went into the BAU room.

“Hey, YLN, I’m sure Hotch would let you sit this one out if you asked.” Morgan looked at me with his concerned dark eyes, and a knot of anger rolled in my stomach.

“Why do you guys keep acting like I’m some delicate little thing?” I hissed at them. “I’m sick of it!”

“Because you’ve been through more than almost any of us on this team and we all care about you.” Spencer crossed his arms defiantly. “It’s totally acceptable for you to not be completely okay.”

I rolled my eyes and pushed past them into the BAU room. “I’m fine.”

“No you’re not,” I heard Spencer whisper.

Garcia pointed to the TV after we all had gotten seated. “You are headed to Nashville, Tennessee, where three women, all unidentified, have been found murdered in different motels. All of the bodies were discovered on a Saturday morning.”

The crime scene photos made me want to vomit. The women were found in the motel room bathtubs, severely tortured and beaten, cause of death being a strong slash across the neck. The bile rose up in my throat, and I swallowed it bitterly.

“Um, the killer likely met them on Friday night, maybe at a bar or club. That means he’s a charmer, he could get these women into a motel room with him.” I took a deep breath, trying to convince myself that I was okay. At least I added something, so the team won’t catch on to the intense churning in my stomach.

“Something triggered him to start killing, and now that he’s started he can’t stop. Wheels up in 30, and YLN, come see me for a minute.”

Shit. That can’t be good.

I stepped into Hotch’s office a few minutes later. “You wanted to see me?”

Hotch looked into my eyes, and I was thankful he was the only one not looking at me like I was going to shatter at any given time. “I’m not sure I want you in the field, YLN.”

I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion. “Excuse me? I passed all my psych evaluations, and I’ve been cleared from two doctors to come back to work.”

“I know.”

“So what’s the problem?”

Hotch huffed a heavy breath. “I’m worried about you being in the field and painful memories coming back. I know from personal experience that can lead to recklessness and impulsive decisions.”

I raised my eyebrows and laughed bitterly. “You think I won’t keep my cool.”

“That’s my fear, yes.”

While turning to walk out of the office, I turned to Hotch. “Painful memories don’t have to come back, Hotch. They’re always there. Surely you can understand that?”

Hotch grabbed his go bag and followed me out. “All too well.”

I ended up with Prentiss and Morgan at the Nashville FBI Field Office. After hours of speculation over motive and victimology, we headed to the hotel around 1 AM.

Dark images filled my head more than usual as I sat in the backseat of the SUV. Morgan and Prentiss didn’t speak as we pulled up to the hotel, the rest of the team had already settled in.

I pounded on Spencer’s door. I felt bad that it was 3 AM, but I needed to see him, to know he was alive.

It had been a month since my kidnapping and torture, and I hadn’t slept since.

He cracked the door open to see me, in my pajamas and messy bed head, standing outside his apartment. Spencer swung the door open wide, letting me in. “What's wrong?”

We sat on his couch, and I cried for the first time in a month. He didn’t say anything, he just held me as I broke down. “Spencer… when he tried to… hurt me, I thought of you.”

“What do you mean?”

“I thought about all the little things and all the big things that we’ve gone through… I cherished them in that moment because… I really thought I was going to die. And I wanted to be thinking of you when… I finally did die.”

Spencer just shook his head. “But you didn’t die, YFN. You have to remember that.”

After five hours of sleep, the call at 6 AM alerted us that they had another body. The team met in the lobby, everyone’s faces looking grim.

“He’s sped up his time table majorly. Normally he’s only killed on Friday nights. It’s Tuesday.” JJ said in a low voice.

Hotch huffed a tired breath. “Alright, Reid, YLN, go to the new crime scene. Go and change then head over there as soon as you can. Check to see if anything is new or frantic. We’ll be at the station.”

“Got it.” As I went to go change, a ball formed in the pit of my stomach. How was I supposed to look at the mangled bodies of women when I could’ve just as easily been one of them?

When we pulled up to the motel the sun was rising over the horizon. I tried not to get distracted by Spencer’s cute messy bed head and the way he seemed to glow in the sun rise.

We walked into the room, and the scent of blood hit me like a truck. Spencer noticed my hesitation, but didn’t say anything.

The bathtub was nearly full of this woman’s blood, and her black and blue skin stood out against her pale complexion. “Major escalation,” I murmured. As I got a closer look, the more I wanted to run out. “He violated her with the knife this time.”

I turned back to face Spencer and I saw his furrowed eyebrows. He stepped forward to look at the victim’s face. “Up until now he’s chosen seemingly low risk victims, but this woman looks to be a prostitute.”

I sighed, closing my eyes. “He’s getting antsy. He can’t wait for crowded Friday nights anymore, he needed an accessible victim pool that would get in a car with him.”

I couldn’t take the metallic smell of blood in that motel room any longer. After pushing past officers and CSI, I took a deep breath of fresh cold air outside.

“What do you think this new victimology means for future victims?” Spencer said from behind me.

“I think… he’s hunting again tonight. And we need to be ready.”

The warmth of the coffee cup in my hand soothed me as I staked out in front of Lana’s Motel. It was my idea to stake out all the motels in the geographic profile, and the numbers were so high that we were all on our own in our SUVs.

About three hours had gone by when I saw a small dark green car pull into the motel extremely quickly. I watched as a man got out and went into the main lobby to get a room. The man came back out and pulled his car into an isolated spot in the parking lot. He grabbed someone from the passenger’s seat and seemed to throw her into one of the motel rooms.

I listened at the door for some kind of noise, and I dialed Hotch’s number as soon as I heard cries for help. “Hotch, I got him. He’s in Room 14A at Lana’s Motel.”

“Listen to me, do not engage. He is extremely unstable and paranoid. Do not enter the room.” Hotch was almost pleading with me. “Tell me you won’t go in until backup arrives.”

A terrified scream was muffled through the door, and I couldn’t help but think of my own screams echoing in that dark basement. “Hotch, she’s screaming for help. I can’t just leave her.”

“YLN-” Hotch started, and I hung up the phone and kicked the motel door in with my gun drawn.

A young woman was on her knees, a larger figure holding a knife to her throat behind her. “Please help,” she whispered to me.

“You don’t wanna do this.” I kept my voice even and calm. “I know that you’ve been rejected your entire life, and you're angry about that. I understand. But why throw away your life for…” I jutted my chin out to the terrified woman. “Her?”

He huffed a laugh and he unknowingly slightly lowered the knife.

I continued with my even voice. “Look at her. Do you really want me to shoot you over some blubbering mess?” The words hurt to say, especially now that I know what it’s like to be her. To be a victim.

Police lights illuminated the dirty motel room, and he finally made a decision.

The rest of my team burst in the room as I was cuffing the disgusting killer that I outsmarted.

Hotch was pissed.

“What were you thinking? The risks that you took? This is exactly what I was worried about!”

I leaned against my SUV, the lecture starting to get tiring after 15 minutes. Hotch was pacing frantically and Spencer was leaning against the car next to me. I’ve never seen either of them this mad before.

“Look Hotch, you can’t look me in the eye and tell me that you wouldn’t have done the exact same thing. The woman was screaming for God’s sake, what was I supposed to do?”

He didn’t have an answer for me. “Take a walk, YLN.”

I huffed a breath and pushed past Hotch and Spencer to stand by the motel pool, away from everything.

After a few minutes I felt Spencer stand next to me.

“That was a big risk, YFN.”

I rolled my eyes. “Everything we do is a risk. I couldn’t just stand by listening to her scream for help when…” my voice hitched.

Spencer looked me in the eyes. “When what?”

“When I know how it feels.” A rebellious tear rolled down my cheek, and I tried to keep my chin from quivering.

Spencer lowered his voice to almost a whisper. “When you were taken, I was completely panicking. I just kept thinking about how fast it happened and how I feel like it was my fault. There was a moment when we found you, bleeding in that basement, where I really thought that I would lose you… and it was the worst feeling I’ve ever had. I’m not mad that you ignored Hotch, I’m mad that you don’t even think about risks anymore. You’re not okay, no matter how many times you deny it.”

“Don’t you think I know that?!” I almost yelled at him. “I know that I’m not okay better than anyone. There’s scars to prove it, so you don’t have to keep reminding me.” Hot angry tears streamed down my cheeks, and Spencer enveloped me in a hug.

“You can’t be alone right now.”

Spencer and I both have a taste for the simpler ways of life. As I was sitting in his library of an apartment, he played soft tunes on his keyboard, and we didn’t speak. We sat like that for hours, him playing the piano and me just sitting on his sofa in silence.

“Spencer, dance with me.” I tugged on Spencer’s arm, trying to get him away from the book he was pouring over.

“Why?” He closed the book and looked up at me. “We’re in the middle of the MIT library and there’s no music.”

“Because I’m your girlfriend, and we’ve never danced before.”

Spencer rolled his eyes with a smile. He stood up and wrapped an arm around my waist, and I rested my head on his shoulder, swaying gently. We danced like that until the librarian yelled at us to leave, and she chased us out as we laughed, giddy with love.

I wrapped my arms around his shoulders from behind. “Dance with me.”

Spencer chuckled as he placed one hand on my arm, the other hand still expertly playing. “Like in college?”

“Yes.”

He turned around as he stood up, smoothly placing his arm around my waist, holding me like I was the most precious piece of treasure in the world. Scars and all.

He held our hands out and pressed his nose to mine. We swayed as gently as that night in the MIT library when we were 19. His breath smelled like the strawberry ice cream we had eaten earlier tonight, and I found it simply intoxicating.

There were no words as he pressed his lips to mine. We didn’t need them.

We had each other memorized.

@itsarayofsunshine @thesailbells @squirrellover1967 @softpeteparker @parkeroffline

#spencer reid #dr reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #dr spencer reid

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kneworder · 4 years

Text

I finally got to the infamous ‘I mourned the loss of six’ conversation from season 7 and was instantly filled with rage so here’s my attempt at elongating that conversation to make it make sense. Episode tag to s07e02 Proof. || Read on AO3 | read on Fanfiction.net

why can’t we be ourselves like we were yesterday?

“Look, Reid, I know you're mad at us because we didn't tell you what really happened, and I understand that. But I promise you, we had no choice. You mourned the loss of a friend. I mourned the loss of six. This whole thing gave me an ulcer. Please don't give me another one.”

It takes a while for him to respond, after she says her piece. She almost starts to speak again, the words “Are you gonna go to Rossi’s tomorrow?” on the tip of her tongue, but something about his demeanor gives her pause. They’re not supposed to profile each other, but it’s hard to ignore the undoubtedly painful clench of his jaw. She starts to think that he’s going to stay quiet, just ignore her attempts at patching things up until she goes away. She’s thinking about admitting defeat and doing just that when he finally opens his mouth.

“In those months after… after Georgia,” he starts, voice so measured it barely breaks, “I was… pretty awful to you.” His nose twitches. “Do you know why?”

Emily freezes. He’s never spoken about this before, not to her, and now seems like a rather abrupt time to start. She sits up, tosses her hair behind her shoulder, and tries to ignore the sudden feeling that she’s in out of her depth. “You’d just gone through a major trauma,” she says, carefully avoiding the obvious. “I never held it against you.”

He nods, but doesn’t look up. “And I’m grateful for that. But you know what I mean. It’s kind of an open secret here, isn’t it?”

Emily bites her lip. “Reid--”

“You know, no one ever asked?” He puts the book down, finally meeting her stare, and wow, she really wishes he was still avoiding her gaze, because the sheer hurt in his eyes hits her harder than a punch to the gut. When he continues, it’s in a harsh whisper. “I was-- I was struggling, for so long, and everyone knew. But no one ever asked, not really. And I get it, if anyone said anything I could have lost my job, I understand. But do you have any idea how hard it was to quit on my own?”

“I can’t even imagine,” Emily says diplomatically. Under the table, she keeps her hands still and fights the urge to pick at her nails.

“I don’t resent you. Any of you. That was my problem and I handled it on my own. But no one ever asked in Texas, either. Owen Savage killed eight people less than a week after the anniversary of--” He cuts himself off, swallowing his words and exhaling a shaky breath. He looks down at the still-open book in his hands. “I don’t expect anything more than a professional relationship with my colleagues. I would like to consider all of you friends, but I know that isn’t my right.”

“Reid, we are your friends,” Emily tries, and that was clearly the wrong thing to say because the hurt shifts to anger faster than she can track.

“Oh, really? Are you? Could have fooled me,” he snaps, walls fully back into place.

Emily leans forward and sets her jaw. For a moment, she thinks of a plane ride just a few short years ago, sitting in this same position and telling him that she’d chosen to take a beating for him and she’d do it again. “Reid, that’s not fair. JJ was in an impossible position. She would have told you in an instant if she could have, but it just wasn’t safe.”

“Why?” he demands. “Why wasn’t it safe? What, was Doyle going to stalk all of us? You think we wouldn’t have kept it secret? You didn’t trust us, I don’t see why I have any reason to trust you anymore.”

“Four years of working together isn’t reason enough?”

“That’s the funny thing about trust. Way easier to break than to build.” He huffs out a sigh. “Look, Emily, when I found out you were alive, I thought I had to be dreaming, I was so relieved. I really am happy to have you back. I’d just appreciate it if everyone would stop acting like just because your death was fake, the grief was too. No one -- no one ever asks, or if they do, they don’t listen, and that’s okay, they shouldn’t have to.” His grip on the book tightens. “It’s just that the only time I actually told was when I showed up at JJ’s doorstep.”

“She was just trying to help,” Emily says, resolute.

“I lost you, Emily,” he says, his voice choked. “You don’t understand, you were dead. I know you just want things to go back to normal, because you’re tired of this and you just want to move on, but you don’t get it. You didn’t mourn us, you knew that we were safe and alive the whole time. We were here, and to us, you were in the ground. Even if JJ was trying to help, it doesn’t change the fact that she kept you there.” He gives her that classic Dr. Reid half smile, the one that doesn’t reach his eyes, and says, “I don’t know how to go back to normal, Emily. I don’t know if I can.”

For a moment, she is well and truly stunned. Reid isn’t Hotch, he’s never hidden behind heavy silence and a face of stone, but Emily truly can’t think of the last time she’s heard him this vulnerable. She’d missed him in Paris, missed those awkward smiles and rambling sentences. In some detached way, she’d known that he would miss her too. She’d envisioned her funeral time and time again, she’d pictured the shock and the grief and the loss. But she’d also pictured the healing. The team would go on without her, just as it had without Gideon, and without Elle Greenaway before him. Seaver would pick up her slack, they’d find someone else for the rest. She’d needed to believe that they would be okay.

Emily never found normal in Paris. Life settled into routine, but it never felt right, not until she took those first few steps back into the round table room. It had felt like a homecoming.

She’d just been naive to think that her home could be the same as it was seven months ago.

Emily had been a spy for years and yet she thinks that Reid has faced more betrayal in his young life than she saw in her whole career. Gideon betrayed him in leaving, just as his father did so long ago. His mother, no matter how involuntarily, betrayed him every time she looked at him without recognition, every time she remembered paranoid delusions more clearly than she remembered her own son. The team, as much as they are loath to admit it, had betrayed him after Georgia by responding to his newfound anger rather than his shaking hands and desperate cries for help.

Emily wants this to be simple. She needs simplicity after living in a web of secrets and lies for so long she started to forget the truth. But this isn’t simple, and she can’t will a miracle fix into existence by pretending nothing is really broken.

This is something she -- and Hotch, and JJ, but right now, just she -- has to work at.

She hesitates, then reaches out a hand. He looks down at it, but doesn’t flinch when she grips his arm. ‘I don’t know how to go back to normal,’ he’d said, and it hits her then. “I shouldn’t have asked you to,” she says. “I’m sorry.”

He stills under her hand, swallowing hard.

“I know you’re hurt, and honestly, you have every right to be. I’m sorry for the way everything was handled. Everything,” she says, trying to convey that she means more than just the past seven months. “I’m sorry for leaving.” He looks up sharply, eyes wide like he’s been caught. She gives him a meaningful look. Profiler, remember? she thinks. “I didn’t want to, and I swear to you, it seemed like my only option. But I’m back now, and I promise, I’m not going anywhere this time.”

He gives her a jerky nod, and she knows that he doesn’t entirely believe it. She can’t blame him, the kid’s so used to abandonment by now that he practically expects it, but it still makes her heart sink.

Emily steels herself.

She knows it’s not all hers to fix, but she’ll do whatever she can. “I’m back, Reid. And right now, I’m asking. How can I fix it? Or at least, how can I help?”

“Time?” He blurts, like the word has been lodged in his throat. “Please just don’t pretend like everything is okay, not yet. I’m just-- I’m mad, and I’m… “ He trails off. Takes a deep breath. “Time. That’s all I want.”

“Alright,” she says. He looks impossibly young all of a sudden, his eyes bright with unshed tears. She tries to smile at him, but she’s filled with too much concern, too much regret, for her expression to be anything but sad. “I can give you that.”

And when he shows up at Rossi’s that night, she doesn’t comment on the obvious tension that still radiates from every interaction between him and JJ. She doesn’t try to intervene or call him on it, and she glares down Hotch when he starts to.

It’s not all fixed, it’s not all better, and it’ll be some time before they’ll be able to say it is. She sees that now.

But when she watches Reid genuinely laugh at JJ’s impression of Henry on his first trip to the beach, she thinks she can see that happy future a little bit more clearly.

It’ll just take time.

#criminal minds #fanfiction #7x02 proof #spencer reid #emily prentiss #'mourned the loss of six' who the hell wrote that line #stupid as hell #that writer would not last ten seconds in a human argument #title from bizarre love triangle by new order #which is an absolute BANGER of a song btw #ev writes

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dr-spencer-reids-queen · 5 years

Text

Endless Possibilities

Characters: Spencer Reid x Reader

Word Count: 1,636

Warnings: headache pain, implied smut at the end

Summary: When Spencer misses the last train, he turns to you for a ride back to his apartment.

Squares Filled: “Wanna bet?”

Author’s Note: This is for @fluffbingo and if you have any requests, please send them in! this is unbeta’d and every mistake is all on me.

Feedback the glue that holds my writing together

Tags at the bottom

It was the end of the day, your favorite part. This week has been hellish, and Hotch promised everyone to take the weekend off for themselves. Penelope and JJ were talking about being with their significant others, Emily wanted to go to Vegas, Morgan was going on a small road trip, and Rossi and Hotch didn’t really give details on what they were doing, but you had a feeling you knew what it was. Hotch had a four-year-old to take care of, and Rossi probably was working on wife number five at this point.

When the week started, you promised yourself that you were going to go home, take a long bath with your favorite scent and a bottle of wine, and then stay in your pajamas the entire weekend binge-watching your favorite shows. Usually, your weekends were filled with overtime, paperwork, and listening to your teammates bicker at one another, so the thought of doing nothing all weekend sounded like Heaven.

Lastly, there was Spencer. He does the same thing he always does whenever he had some downtime: learn and read. He could never seem to stop reading because his brain was always eager to learn. And it was never the trashy novel that you believe every person should read at least once in their life; no, it was academic books that only he seemed to understand. The only part you loved about him reading those kinds of books was that he told you all about it the next day. Granted, you never knew what he was talking about, but it made him so happy to share what he learned.

That’s all you ever wanted Spencer to have: happiness. He rarely sees it, so whenever he finds it, you vowed to never be the person to take that from him. He was cautious, always did things by the book, and rarely ventured out to do something new and exciting. Maybe that’s why you two gravitated towards each other because you were the exact opposite of him. Adventure and thrill are what fueled you. It’s why you were so good at your job because you genuinely loved what you did despite seeing the horrors of reality.

Spencer envied that part of you. He loved to hear stories of when you went skydiving, hiking through the Grand Canyon, cliff jumping, and so much more. You were seeing the world in its true beauty, and he was kind of jealous. It took a lot out of him to even do the job he has because it was hard for him to come out of his shell. He kept to himself and didn’t like other people touching him except for the team. It amazed you why he would continue to take the subway when it was always crowded, but you let him be. Everyone else drove to work, but he opted to take public transportation. He explained why once, but you’ve forgotten the reason.

It was turning into a late one on Friday and everyone else had already left the office except for you and Spencer. You two must have had the same thoughts because you decided to get all your paperwork done before going home so you didn’t have to do it on Monday morning. It was nearing midnight when you finished your last file. Looking over your desk to Spencer’s which was right across from you, he was also finishing his last file which meant he was just about ready to go home.

Taking a moment, you leaned back in your chair to get a good look at him. Your desk was a good vantage point to really stare at him without him noticing. He could easily look up and see you being creepy, but he was always invested in his work so it didn’t give him time to look up. The view you were at gave you access to his strong jaw as he flexed it in frustration. His tongue ran over his lips for the tenth time that hour which is another thing you couldn’t stand about the man. He drove you crazy whenever he would lick those damn lips right in front of you. He must know what he’s doing, and if he did, then he didn’t seem to care how it affected you.

“You done?” you asked.

“Yeah, I am. Are you?” he asked, flipping his file shut.

“Finished about five minutes ago.”

“And you were just sitting there?”

“I had a pretty good view,” you winked, causing a blush to creep onto his cheeks.

“What are you doing this weekend?” he asked as he got up and gathered his things into his messenger bag.

“Binge-watching Game of Thrones after I take a long bath to soothe my muscles. What about you?”

“I wanted to get in about twenty books before Monday. I have a list of some I want to read.”

“You know, that will never not amaze me,” you chuckled as the two of you walked to the elevator.

“What will?” he asked when the doors closed behind him.

“How fast your brain can process words. What I wouldn’t give to read that many books in such a short time,” you giggled. Spencer managed to smile, but it was lost when he looked at his watch.

“Shit,” he sighed.

“What is it?” you asked as the doors opened to the parking garage where your motorcycle was.

“The train I usually take isn’t in service right now. I remember they made an announcement saying that the last train left two hours ago. The busses are all down too. I guess I’ll have to walk home.”

“No, you’re not. I can give you a ride. It’s on the way,” you smiled, grabbing the helmet you left on one of the handlebars.

“On that thing?” Spencer gulped.

“What, you scared?” you chuckled.

“You don’t have two helmets. It wouldn’t be safe.”

“You think I would leave the house without two helmets? Here,” you tossed him the one you were holding before reaching into the compartment on the back of the motorcycle and pulling out another helmet, “you can use that one.”

“A total of 5,286 motorcyclists died in crashes in 2016. 41% of fatally injured motorcycle drivers were not wearing helmets,” Spencer spits out the facts as if he just happened to know it.

“Luckily for you, you have a helmet.”

“But--”

“Reid, do you need elbow pads and knee pads too?” you teased him. “I have some if you really want them. Come on, would I ever put you in danger? You’re not going to die or get hurt.”

“Okay,” he whispered, sliding on the helmet. Grinning, you put your own on before starting up the bike. Getting on, you waited until Spencer was behind you before taking off. Almost immediately, he grabbed your waist and held tight, scared of falling off it.

“You’ll be fine, Spencer. Nothing is going to happen to you. Why ruin such a pretty face?” you teased him once more. The cars were nothing as you whizzed by them, but the lights were so pretty at this time of night. Spencer got scared whenever you would change lanes without really looking over your shoulder to check to see if it was safe. He knew you knew what you were doing, but it was still scary to him.

Approaching a traffic light, you were still at a far enough distance that if the light turned yellow, the proper thing to do was to slow down. Just your luck, the light turned yellow… but you weren't slowing down.

“You’re not going to make it. Y/N, slow down!” Spencer urged.

“Wanna bet?” you grinned, cranking the gas up. Spencer pulled you into his body tighter, but you had to ignore it if you wanted to make this light and not cause any accidents. The light turned red just as you entered the intersection, and Spencer watched as you fled from the would-be scene.

“You’re insane!” Spencer yelled. Approaching his apartment building, you slowed down to a stop right in front of it. Spencer didn’t let go of you just yet because his mind was still processing what just happened and what could have happened if you were a tad too slow.

“Spencer, you can let go now,” you chuckled.

“I don’t think I can,” he whispered. Grinning, you grabbed his hands from the front and unfolded them so that you were set free. His arms felt nice around you, but he probably didn’t want to be with you for much longer. He had twenty books to get through this weekend, and you’d only serve as a distraction. Both of you got off the bike, and he took off his helmet and returned it to you. Placing it in the compartment, you turned to him with your helmet squished between your arm and your right hip.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” you laughed.

“I am never riding on that thing again,” he shook his head.

“Well, have a good night,” you smiled, going to place your helmet on again when he spoke. He didn’t want you to go because despite being scared, he actually had fun. He loved the kind of person you were, and if he let you walk away now, then he would never forgive himself.

“Actually, I don’t think I should be alone. I’m still too scared, and I think some company would be best for me right now. Would you like to come in and have some coffee?”

You knew he was bullshitting you right now, but the fact that he would make up an excuse to get you to stay made your heart sing with the thought of endless possibilities.

“I’d like that,” you grinned.

Your bath and binge-watching could wait another weekend.

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motherjoel · 4 years

Text

Leading Lady (Spencer Reid x Reader)

chapter six- whispers of are you sure

wc: 2.1k

summary: you and spencie get closer owo

a/n: im sorry i haven’t posted a chapter in awhile :/

chapter index: chap 1, chap 2, chap 3, chap 4, chap 5

You started to stir from your nap when you heard hushed voices a few desks down. Remaining quiet, you kept your head down to listen in on the conversation.

“Listen man, it sounds like you’re crushin hard on this girl,” you recognized Morgan's voice. Reid spoke next in hushed tones.

“It doesn’t matter how I feel about her, it's just unprofessional. And besides, she would probably go for a guy like you anyway,” said Spencer.

You could feel your heart break. It didn’t take a genius to know that they were talking about you, but it saddened you to hear about Spencer’s lack of confidence. In your eyes, he was the ideal man. You wanted to show that to him one day.

“Now you listen to me. You gotta stop getting in the way of your own happiness. Any girl would be lucky to have you, you just have to see it for yourself,” Morgan told him, warming your heart. This team was like a family, and you had to admit, you were a little jealous about their love for each other, but it was good to know that Spencer had such a great support system. You felt kind of weird listening in, however, so you decided to “wake up.” Slowly lifting your head, you yawned and stretched before looking over at the two men with a sleepy smile, pretending to just realize that they were there.

“Hey sleepy head,” said Morgan before getting up and turning to Spencer. “I gotta help Hotch with something,” he told him, leaning in to say the next part more quietly. “Remember what I told you,” he said before clapping Spencer on his shoulder and ruffling your hair when he walked past you. You smiled at the exchange and turned back to see Spencer nervously picking at his fingernails.

“So, what'd I miss? You catch the guy yet?” you asked in an attempt to lighten the mood. Spencer just chuckled nervously and shook his head.

“No, not yet,” he paused, thinking of what to say next. “I’m glad you got some sleep in. Studies show that most healthy adults need to get between 7 and 9 hours of sleep each night to function at their best,” he told you, continuing to nervously ramble, citing multiple facts about sleep. You just smiled at him, not fully processing his words. You were just mesmerized by his intelligence and passion for mundane facts. He noticed you staring. “What?” he asked nervously.

“Oh I'm sorry,” you said, flustered. “It's just… you're cute when you ramble,” you blushed and looked down. Spencer had the same reaction.

“Oh. Most people think it's annoying, the team normally cuts me off,” he said, avoiding eye contact. You could almost see the gears turning in his head, almost as if he regretted saying that for fear of judgement.

“If anything, it's... endearing,” you said, lifting your head back up to meet his gaze. He looked surprised that someone enjoyed his quirks. To you, this is what made him genuine and irresistible, irreplaceable. The two of you stared intensely for a moment before you started to speak at the same time.

“I thin-” you started.

“Do you-” he began.

You both laughed in response to this, the silence continuing for a moment longer.

“Y/N,” he started, with a shakiness in his voice, “I know we’ve only known each other for a few days, but I really care about you. Every time I have a breakthrough on this case, the first person I think of is you,” he started. You got up from your desk to walk closer to him as he went on. “And I don’t know what to call that, but you’re just really pretty and you’re so nice to me and you always are interested in what I have to say and you smell really goo-” you cut him off by softly grabbing the sides of his face.

“I have never met anyone like you before,” you told him in awe, stars in your eyes. He mimicked your expression, his surprise melting into adoration. Your eyes flicker down to his lips and he wordlessly nods, accepting what you had so badly wanted to do from the minute you met him. Slowly, you leaned in until you were an inch away from his face.

“Are you sure?” you whispered, wanting to confirm your mutual feelings. You weren't imagining this, right? Spencer didn't wait a second to wordlessly accept. With a small but nervous laugh, he closed the distance between his chapped lips and yours, resting his hands on your waist and pulling you closer. It was as if you were in a movie, the magical spark between you two. Your kisses with Logan hadn’t been like this- they didn’t hold this emotion, this longing. Logan's kisses were chores, not luxuries. A few seconds, what could have been hours, had passed before you pulled away and rested your forehead on his, eyes still closed. You wanted to savor this moment of peace, this calm before the inevitable storm. You both jump to the sound of an attention grabbing cough. Turning around you see a sly Prentiss, feigning gravitas.

“Uh, Hotch wants to see you. We’re going over possible unsubs and he thinks it would be good for you guys to be there. But, by all means, finish what you were doing first,” she said with a wink before speed walking into the conference room where the rest of the team was.

“So…” you trailed off.

“Yeah, so…” he replied looking at you with his blush still lingering.

“We should probably go see what's up,” you told him, although you didn’t want your time with him to end.

“Good idea,” he replied, and the two of you began your walk into the conference room, his hand resting on the small of your back as he led you. Once you got inside and settled in a seat next to JJ and Spence, you looked around to see the entire room staring at you with odd smiles. Rossi even shoots you a wink. Huh, word really does get around fast. You didn’t mind them knowing, however- you knew you had their support if Spence was happy. And that's all you could ask for.

“So about those unsubs!” Spencer starts, trying to diffuse the childish energy in the room.

“Right,” Hotch begins, trying to hide his own sly smirk. “We found out that the time of death of the latest suspect was at around 5:30, just like you thought,” said Hotch in a more serious tone.

“That would give Nichols the perfect amount of time to make the kill and then show up late to rehearsal,” replied Rossi. You were shocked.

“Wait, Nichols? As in Matt Nichols, my Matt Nichols?” you asked, frantically. Reid flinched at your intensity and the use of “my” when referring to Matt, but you didn’t care. Matt might get on your nerves sometimes but you wouldn’t let him take the fall for something like this. You couldn’t have one of your leads getting arrested the week before the show, either. “A guy shows up late to one rehearsal and you assume he's a serial killer? Man, he can’t catch a break,” you huffed with a mirthless smile.

“Y/N, you have to admit, he fits the profile perfectly,” offered JJ, you just shook your head.

“I see the way he looks at you,” said Spencer, softly. As he continues he attempts to speak with more conviction but to you it sounded like he was trying to prove some far fetched conspiracy. “And that guy is possessive. When we kissed at your rehearsal the guy looked like he wanted to kill me!’ he said, trying to convince you. The mention of the kiss earned a whistle from Garcia on her screen.

“Not the time, Garcia,” Spencer snapped. You were in shock. The nerve he possessed to be giving an attitude right now surprised you. You could tell he was just on edge because he cared about you, but you didn’t want him snapping on his teammates because of you.

“I’m sorry you guys, but just because Matt and I used to have a ‘thing,’ doesn’t mean he wants me dead,” you said, standing up and walking out of the room. Your head was spinning and you needed some fresh air.

You grabbed Spencer’s sweater from where you left it on the chair and tugged it on before making your way outside. Once you were finally in the cold air you felt like you could breathe. How could this happen? Only a few short days ago you were at the top of your game, starring in your dream role and working towards a promotion at work, granted, the amount of times you had to call out for FBI business might affect that. The BAU threw a wrench in your whole life, but for some reason, you couldn’t be mad at them for it. JJ was like the sister you never had- the two of you were immediately connected and you didn’t want to lose her. Garcia was the hilarious and beautiful best friend you had always needed in your life, always ready to lighten the mood. Hotch, stern as he could be, was a compassionate leader and you were so glad the team had him. Morgan was protective and so sweet- even just knowing you for a short period of time, he had nothing to offer but kindness. Prentiss was smart as a whip and loved to tease you and Spence, but you wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world. Through your savored but limited interactions with Rossi, you could tell he was a father figure for the team. This was a bit of a sore spot with you, but you hoped you could get closer with him over time. And Spencer. He was so frustratingly great. Great at his job, great at making you feel safe, great at… well… everything. You felt so lucky to know all these people and bond with them, you almost forgot your frustrations with them. But, after all, they were the professionals. If it came down to it, you would try to vouch for Matt but if they suspected him, you would trust their instincts.

You removed yourself from your thoughts and were about to make your way back inside when you heard quick footsteps from behind you and a sharp pain on the back of your skull before it all went black.

Inside the station, the team continued their conversation about the case. Spencer, however, was pacing around the conference room worried that he just screwed up what you two had going. Rossi excused himself from the team and walked over to Spence to put a calming hand on his shoulder.

“Go. Make sure she’s okay, we can handle this,” he told him, and that’s all it took for Spencer to bolt out of the room and out of the station. Looking around, his heart dropped when he didn’t see you. He tried calling your name a few times but he was received without a response. That's when the panic began to set in. He sprinted back inside the station and ran to the team, face red and panting.

“She’s gone.”

You woke up in an empty room, seated in a chair with your arms strapped behind you while your legs were tied together. Looking up you could see a tripod with a camera, filming your every move. Things began to make sense- the unsub had finally tracked your whereabouts and had taken you hostage. You couldn’t help but let out a dry laugh at the circumstances. You had thrown away your life just because you were upset about an assumption a trained team of professionals made. You had thrown away the life that you had worked so hard to want. Your father's passing had left you in a terrible place where your mind wandered to the unthinkable. These thoughts were something you had struggled with your whole life. You never planned on actually taking your life, but some mornings you were disappointed to wake up. It wasn’t until recently that you regained the will to take advantage of what life had to offer. Your passion for theatre was reignited and you met an amazing group of people- a group that you weren’t ready to say goodbye to yet. You were shaken from your thoughts when you noticed a shadowy figure enter the room from the door opposite of you- this figure was familiar, one you recognized.

“Matt?”

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#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid/reader #Criminal Minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds reid #criminal minds spencer reid #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid/you #spencer reid/oc

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