#my whole thing is what about penelope?? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

rynbutt · 5 months

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safe. | spencer reid.

You were pregnant but JJ had just left the team and they needed you. You hadn't told anyone; you hadn't even told Spencer.

my masterlist!

cw: fem!reader, pregnant!reader, guns, violence, mentions of murder, mentions of drugs (antidepressants and opioids), mentions of car accident, gunshot wounds, death of pregnant woman, general criminal minds themes.

wc: 6.2k

a/n: bruh this was a looooong one! dw some banging smut coming in the next one with post-prison reid >:3

now playing... Fare Well by Hozier

This was really starting to piss you off.

You fell to your knees as bile pushed up your throat, your skin paling as you vomited for the third time today. You tried to keep something, anything, down but you would just wind up curled in on yourself and sweating in the corner of the bathroom stall. You ate a couple of crackers and sipped on water to keep your empty stomach satiated– But you always ended up right back here on the bathroom floor with your head between your knees trying to will the pain away.

Emily noticed your pale complexion and how exhausted you looked, offering to get you some medicine or ask Hotch about sitting out of the next few cases. You told her you were fine, that it was just stress. That answer seemed to satisfy her enough, though she wasn’t fully convinced. To be fair, your workload had increased tenfold since JJ was forced to accept the job at the Pentagon, and you missed her terribly but you were proud of her. But you really could have used her advice right about now.

Because you swore this baby had it out for you.

You found out you were pregnant just over a week ago and you still hadn’t told Spencer. You were still wrapping your head around the whole thing because initially, you didn’t think you were pregnant, you just thought your body was dealing with the stress and workload in, frankly, a bizarre way. Hotch had wanted you to take over doing JJ’s job as communication liaison, which were rather important shoes to fill. He had total faith in your ability to do JJ’s job as well as do your own as a profiler, but you weren’t so sure anymore.

You would tell Spencer when you were ready and right now was not a good time. Everyone was surviving on four hours of sleep a night, far too many cups of coffee and sheer willpower. The absolute last thing they needed was to lose another team member. So you soldiered on like a champion– a champion who still held her head over the bureau’s less than impressive toilet while she threw her guts up.

“Y/N?” You didn’t even hear the bathroom door open, the ringing rattling around your skull distracting you from your surroundings. Penelope’s heels clicked against the tiles as she cautiously peered around the wall of the last stall where you kneeled on the ground. “Oh my god, sweet thing! What’s wrong?”

“I’m fine, Pen,” your voice was hoarse when you finally replied. You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand and tried to smooth your hair down, attempting to look at least semi-presentable before you left the bathroom to pretend everything was okay.

“No, no, my girl, you are not fine!” Penelope stood in behind you, pulling your hair out of your face as you vomited the last remnant of your soul into the toilet. “You need to talk to Hotch, you’ve got a bug or something, my dear. You shouldn’t even be at work when you’re this sick, let me talk to him for you and you just go home–”

“I’m not sick, Penelope!” You didn’t mean to shout at her, you really didn’t, you just felt awful and felt like a shell of yourself with how poorly you’d been sleeping and eating paired with all the stress of doing JJ’s job as well as your own. It was just a lot.

Penelope went quiet but stayed close to you, still holding your hair as you sat back on your heels, running your hands down your face. She let out a soft sigh, knowing you didn’t mean to shout at her. Penelope was stressed too– everyone was.

“I’m sorry, Pen,” you mumbled, your throat hurting from all the vomiting and coughing you’d managed to do today– it had to be a record honestly.

Penelope just shook her head at you, reaching her hand out toward you, “you don’t have to apologise, sweet girl, I know you’ve got a lot on your plate.” You shook your head, you still felt bad and shouting at sweet Penelope was not the way to deal with all the emotions swirling around in your head.

“It’s not fair,” you replied as she helped you to your feet, gently guiding you over to the basin to help you clean yourself up. “You’re stressed too, I didn’t mean to yell.”

Penelope brushed some of your hair out of your face, her gaze narrowing as she watched you, waiting for you to tell her what was going on. It never came and she knew she would have to push you a little. Penelope thought it was necessary though because seeing you like this was awful and she couldn’t even imagine how Spencer would react if he knew how sick you were.

“What’s going on?” Penelope’s voice was soft; gentle, just trying to get you to talk so she could help. You were stubborn when it came to asking for help and by the time you did, you had hurt yourself more than necessary trying to solve it yourself. Not this time though– Penelope refused.

“I’m okay–” you looked at Penelope and she raised her brows at you, not accepting that answer in the slightest. You sighed, knowing this is a fight you wouldn’t win. “I’m pregnant.”

Penelope’s jaw nearly hit the floor. She knew something was up with you but pregnant? That was not on this year's bingo card. “What?? Y/N that’s–” she gauged your expression and she really couldn’t tell if you were upset or happy about being pregnant. She cut herself off before she finished her sentence, pulling her lips into a line. “Are we happy about this news or are we…?”

“We’re…” you were happy. Honestly, you were. You and Spencer had talked about having kids one day, ideally after you were married but that didn’t seem to be going to plan. You’d been with Spencer for three years, in the BAU for four, it’s not like your relationship was new or in the honeymoon phase, it just wasn’t the original plan and that scared the hell out of you. But you were happy to be carrying his child– the timing was just piss poor. “We’re happy… just scared.”

“Oh, baby,” Penelope cooed. “Of course you’re scared, it’s a huge adjustment. But I know you and I know Spencer, you guys will nail this parenting business.” Penelope managed to prove time and time again why she was your best friend. You often wondered if she knew you better than you knew yourself, which wouldn’t really surprise you given her job.

“I hope so.” You smiled softly, feeling somewhat human again after splashing water on your face and washing your hands. You knew Spencer would be a good dad, he was so good with kids and he was so gentle and patient with you. He was meant to be a dad. You just weren’t sure if you were meant to be a mother. You wanted to be a family with Spencer, it made you feel warm just thinking about it, but you were a person who worried about almost everything, even the things out of your control. What scared you was how in control you were.

“I’m surprised Spencer hasn’t told everyone, that boy is obsessed with you and you’re making him a dad? God, it must be killing him sitting on this–” Penelope suddenly looked at you wide-eyed, connecting the dots all on her own. You winced as you watched her figure it out, gritting your teeth as she let out a soft gasp. “You haven’t told him?!”

You covered your face with your hands, letting out a muffled squeal of frustration into your palms. You would tell him eventually, just not right now, he was far too busy and was already stressing about his own workload, you couldn’t imagine how much more stressed he would be if he found out you were still in the field while pregnant.

“Pen, please,” you turned to her, “please keep this to yourself. I– We can’t deal with this right now. JJ’s gone and everyone is worked to the bone, I can’t do this to everyone right now, especially Spencer.” Penelope looked at you sympathetically, you knew you were asking a lot of her to keep it to herself, especially when Penelope wasn’t great at keeping secrets.

“Y/N, sweetie, you’re going to have to tell them eventually– You’re an FBI Agent. Being in the field is so dangerous and you don’t just have yourself to think about anymore.” You knew Penelope was right. You carried a gun around for Christ’s sake, you literally hunted down serial killers, active shooters, total psychopaths and everything in between. The field was no place for a pregnant woman.

“I know, I know,” you sighed, resting both of your hands on the basin in front of you.

“...How far along are you?”

“Twelve weeks,” you said softly, resting your hand against your belly. You didn’t have much of a bump yet but you were sure it would sneak up on you before you even realised. Lucky for you, you wore a lot of baggy sweaters around the office so you had some wriggle room when it came to hiding it.

“...My money’s on a girl,” Penelope was trying to make you feel better. She really was helping because the idea of Spencer hosting tea parties, getting covered in kitten stickers and his hair being covered in tiny butterfly clips made your heart swell.

You let out a soft laugh, “I think so too.”

“Alright, my love, I think we should leave this bathroom before they send out a search party,” Penelope laughed, linking her arm with yours to guide you out of the bathroom.

You honestly did feel better after talking to Penelope and throwing the rest of your guts up. She made sure to remind you about ten times to call her if you needed anything, you promised you would because it did make you feel better knowing that someone knew about your pregnancy and you didn’t have to bear the weight of the news alone.

You sat down at your desk with a sigh, sipping on your water bottle to soothe your raw throat. You popped a piece of gum in your mouth, willing the taste of bile away. You let out a huff of air as you stared down at all the paperwork you had to do. Doing JJ’s job proved to be intense, especially when you were doing your own work on top of her’s. You picked up your pen when you felt Spencer press a kiss to the crown of your head as he placed a mug of hot coffee on your desk in front of you.

You smiled, craning your neck to look up at him. Spencer took the opportunity to kiss you softly, one of his hands resting on the side of your desk while the other rested on the back of your chair. You smiled against his lips, “shouldn’t you be working?” You teased.

“Are you trying to get me to go away?” Spencer looked at you curiously. You rolled your eyes playfully because of course you didn’t want him to go away. If anything, you wanted him to pick you up and take you home right this second.

“Yes, Spencer,” you replied sarcastically, “I’m trying to get you to go away.” Spencer wasn’t great with sarcasm but he had come to understand your humour over the years. He just grinned and pressed another kiss to your lips.

“Sarcasm is rooted in truth, angel,” Spencer retorted with a gentle smile.

“I am joking, but we both have a lot of work to do, Spence. I don’t know how I’m going to manage doing JJ’s job as well as my own,” you sighed, leaning back in your chair.

“There’s a reason Hotch wanted you to do it. I don’t think he could have picked anyone more capable,” Spencer replied. Maybe it was the hormones and the fact you were carrying a baby, but the comment made you want to cry. Spencer frowned as he watched your face fall, “what’s wrong, angel?”

“No, nothing,” You replied, sniffling quietly. You gave him a genuine smile, “I’m fine, Spence. I promise–”

“New case just came in,” Morgan called to the two of you, gesturing toward the meeting room at the back of the office with a manila folder in his hand.

You looked at Morgan with a confused expression because now it was your job to decide what cases the team took after JJ’s departure. Morgan told you the case went straight to Hotch this time; an old friend had called in a favour.

Spencer pulled a chair out for you, taking the seat right beside you in the meeting room. You opened the case file the moment Penelope dropped it in front of you.

“The victims are 20-year-old Evan Miller and 21-year-old Daniel Clark, both engineering students at Caltech. They were shot three days apart outside their family homes in the local area of Pasadena, California.” You followed along with Penelope as she gave a run down of the victims and the circumstances of their deaths.

The killings were straightforward, the UnSub didn’t try to dispose of the bodies and the men were simply shot in the head execution style. It didn’t seem like the doings of a serial killer who would usually seek some kind of sexual release from torturing and killing their victims. If anything, it seemed like revenge killings.

“They were just shot?” Emily questioned, eyebrows furrowed as she stared at the crime scene photos.

“Once in the head,” Hotch replied, “there were no witnesses around which suggests the UnSub knew the routine of the victims and the neighbourhood.”

“Could be a stalker?” Penelope suggested.

“Stalker victims are usually the object of a stalker’s affection, they rarely act in violence let alone such a blunt killing,” You replied, confused by the nature of such a straightforward murder.

Spencer flicked through the victim’s files, “the single shot to the head suggests the UnSub just wanted them dead. No physical evidence of sexual release or torture… This could be some kind of revenge killing.”

“Did these victims know each other?” You asked.

“According to their parents, they came from the same friend group,” Penelope replied.

“Wheels up in thirty. Garcia, you're coming with us. Get your go bag,” Hotch said, quickly standing up from his chair. Penelope made a small noise of surprise before quickly ushering out of the meeting room. Hotch didn’t usually have Penelope come along but given you were short a very valuable member of your team, Penelope had started coming along more often. Not that you would ever complain having Penelope around.

You pinned up the last of the crime scene photos on the board, standing back with your hands on your hips. Spencer was writing on the whiteboard next to you, jotting down all the things you knew about the victims and possible motives of the UnSub. Hotch and Morgan were engaging in formalities with the local detectives on the case while Penelope got herself settled in the makeshift office they had set up for the team.

“The parents of the victims are here,” Emily poked her head into the office. “Y/N, Hotch wants you to talk to Ben and Sarah Miller, I’ve got the Clarks.”

“Alright, I got it,” you replied, letting out a dejected sigh.

“You okay?” Spencer gently tucked some of your hair behind your ear, turning his full attention to you. You let out another sigh, nodding your head tiredly. “You can do this,” he said quietly, his eyes shifting between yours.

“Yeah, I know,” you smiled softly. Spencer planted a soft kiss on your cheek before leaving the office, leaving Spencer and Penelope alone.

“...I think she needs a break,” Penelope said after a beat.

Spencer looked at her, eyebrows furrowed, “what makes you say that?”

Penelope tried to be as inconspicuous as possible, “she’s doing JJ’s job and her own. I mean, I think she’s the right girl for the job but… you know what she’s like.”

Spencer sighed, he knew exactly what you were like. You always held yourself and your work to such a high standard and you often overworked yourself to make everyone happy. “Yeah, I know. I’ll talk to her when we get back to the hotel.”

“I think that’s a great idea, lover boy,” Penelope grinned.

You opened the office door, files in hand. Mr and Mrs Miller immediately stood up as you entered and you gave them a sympathetic smile. Mrs Miller had clearly been crying, still clutching a tissue in her hand while her husband paced around the office.

“Please, have a seat, Mr Miller,” you said gently.

“I’ll stand,” he replied firmly. You decided not to argue and sat down on the chair opposite the couch where Mrs Miller sat.

“Mrs Miller, I’m Agent L/N, I’m with the Behavioural Analysis Unit in the FBI–”

“FBI?” She questioned. “Was Evan in trouble?”

“We suspect he and his friend Daniel were killed by the same person,” you explained. Mrs Miller let out a soft gasp, her hand coming to rest over her mouth.

“Is it alright if I ask you a few questions about Evan?” You asked. Sarah didn’t say anything but she nodded her head, fresh tears forming in her eyes. “Daniel and Evan knew each other, right?”

“They went to high school together,” Sarah replied, her voice shaking. “They were so excited when they both got into Caltech,” she smiled sadly, fresh tears streaming down her face.

“Do you have any idea who killed our son?” Ben asked, his voice sounding angry.

“That’s what we’re here for,” you said, “we’re here to find who killed your son and why–”

“‘Why”?” Ben repeated, “he was just a kid.”

You sighed softly, “I understand that, sir. We’re just trying to figure out a possible connection.”

“Evan and Daniel were good kids. They would never hurt a fly,” Sarah frowned, sniffling softly as she began crying again.

“Did Daniel and Evan hang around the same social groups?” You asked, turning your attention to Mr Miller, who was still pacing around the office with his arms crossed. “Maybe in some kind of extracurricular activities?”

“They were both on the college basketball team,” Ben said after a beat. “Why? You think this asshole is going to kill more of these kids?”

“I am just trying to get an idea of the social groups Evan and Daniel were a part of,” you didn’t want to get into the gory details of why you were asking such questions and decided they were both far too emotional for you to keep asking them questions; you would let Hotch handle it. “I need to speak with my team but I’ll be right outside if you need anything.” You rested a hand on Mrs Miller’s shoulder and you couldn’t shake how much you missed JJ doing this part.

You let out a sigh as you left the office, rubbing the tension in the back of your neck. You slowly walked over to Hotch, “Evan was on the Caltech Basketball team, he and Daniel went to high school together and Evan’s parents were adamant he was a good kid. I think he was a good kid, just got involved with the wrong people.”

Hotch let out a breath, “I want you and Prentiss to go to the school, talk to the faculty, basketball team coach, anything you can get.”

You nodded, gesturing to Emily on the other side of the bullpen. She firmly nodded at you and the two of you left for the school.

The team worked the case for two days before another body showed up. Everyone was starting early and finishing late to find the person who was doing this and you worked closely with the detectives and other officers on the case. Hotch gave the profile as soon as the team was certain but given the demographic of the suburban areas he was targeting these boys, it was rather unremarkable. The third body belonged to 21-year-old Oliver Marsh, another Caltech student studying Physics. He was shot once in the head while walking his dog no further than a block from his house.

You stood in the middle of Oliver’s bedroom staring at the posters and certificates that littered his walls. Spencer rifled through papers on his desk, mostly finding papers related to physics journals and essays for school. Emily and David were downstairs talking to the parents while Hotch and Morgan went to see the crime scene.

You walked over to his bedside table pulling it open. There were a lot of birthday cards and a game boy but what caught your attention was the little clear yellow bottles with white caps. You lifted the first bottle out, reading the label–

“Oliver was taking Oxycodone,” you said softly, catching Spencer’s attention. “...And Escitalopram,” you spun on your heel, showing Spencer the two bottles. Spencer took the bottles from your hands, eyebrows furrowed as he carefully read the labels. “Chronic pain?” you suggested.

“Could be,” Spencer replied. “He could have been taking non-steroidal anti-inflammatories too, they’re typically over the counter.”

You rifled through the drawer again, pulling out a blue box, “Yeah, he was taking Ibuprofen too.”

“We should talk to the parents,” Spencer said. You nodded and the two of you ushered down the stairs to where his parents sat in the living room with David and Emily. “Was Oliver suffering from chronic pain?” Spencer quickly questioned before he even fully made it into the living room.

Oliver’s mother held a tissue to her nose, glancing at Emily with a confused expression. You put your hand on Spencer’s bicep, “Has Oliver injured himself recently? Maybe a fall or injury while playing sports?”

Oliver’s father shook his head, “No, not recently. He’s been on those antidepressants for a few years and takes the codeine when he has– had flare-ups.”

“Flare-ups?” David asked pointedly.

“He was in a car accident four years ago,” Mrs Marsh said, “He was in the passenger seat and was in a coma for two weeks… he hadn’t really been the same after that, got really sad and antisocial… he was in a lot of pain too.”

“He had to stop playing Football and running track, his body just couldn’t keep up,” Mr Marsh added, his eyes glazing over. “He lost a lot of friends, I don’t think I ever saw him hang out with anyone, Physics became everything to him.”

“Do you have evidence of his medical records anywhere?” Spencer asked. “Just so I can look them over.”

“Uh, yeah, of course,” Mrs Marsh stood up, Spencer following her to their home office on the other side of the house.

You sat down across from Mr Marsh, “The accident he was in,” you started, “what happened?”

He looked at you with a pain in his eyes, “He was in the car with some of his friends and they were driving home from a party and it was late. I think they were all…” he hesitated for a moment, “they were all drunk.”

“Who was in the car?” Emily asked, not liking where this was going.

“...Evan Miller and Daniel Clark,” his father began to cry, holding his hand over his mouth. You felt your eyes widen, this was a revenge killing.

“Who was driving, Mr Marsh?” David asked quickly.

“Um, god–” He sniffled softly, “Peter… Peter something, he was older than them, I really don’t remember.”

“Thank you, Mr Marsh,” You stood up, quickly moving to the front door to call Penelope. You pulled out your phone, dialling her number. She picked up after the first ring.

“How may I be of service, oh queen of my country?” she sang, her fingers typing furiously against her keyboard.

“I need you to look into an accident for me, four years ago,” you said with your hand on your hip. “Oliver Marsh, Daniel Clark and Evan Miller were all in the accident too. See if you can find newspaper articles, news segments, anything– I think we know who the last target is.”

“Right, give me a moment,” Penelope replied. You heard her typing before she stopped, “Oh no…” she mumbled softly.

“What’s wrong, Pen?” You furrowed your brows.

“Peter Harvey,” Penelope sighed, “he’s the last boy… He was driving with three other high school boys; Oliver, Daniel and Evan when they struck an oncoming car and killed a pregnant woman on impact; her husband walked away without a scratch.”

“Shit.” You cursed, “What’s his name?”

“Jonathan Hughes, his wife was Katherine… she was 8 months pregnant, Y/N.” Penelope sounded so pained and you knew she was thinking of you and the small baby you were carrying. “Y/N…”

“I know, Pen… After this case wraps up… I’ll tell everyone,” you replied with a gentle sigh.

“And you’ll take time off?” Penelope sounded like she was lecturing you.

You smiled to yourself, “Yeah, Penelope. I’ll take some time off.”

“Okay… I’ll send Hotch and Morgan Jonathan’s last known address, I’m sending you Peter Harvey’s address–”

Your phone beeped as Penelope sent the address through. “Where would I be without you, Pen?”

“Nowhere good, my love,” you could hear the smile in her voice. You quickly hung up before walking back into the Marsh’s house.

Emily and David turned to look at you, “We’ve got him.”

“Alright, you guys go, I’ll grab Reid and we’ll be right behind you,” David waved you off and Emily quickly ushered the two of you to the car.

Emily was speeding toward the address Penelope had given you while you called Hotch and Morgan, filling them in on all the information Penelope had given you. They agreed to go to Jonathan’s address to hopefully intersect him before he left for Peter Harvey. You were always nervous when it came to these parts of the case because you couldn’t control the outcome no matter how hard you tried. A grieving man was going around killing these young men and while it was awful what he was doing; you could sympathise with him and the pain he was feeling over losing his wife and unborn child.

You instinctively rested a hand over your belly, your thumb stroking the small curve. You couldn’t even imagine how much pain Spencer would be in if he lost you, let alone your child too. You would tell him and you would ask Hotch about taking some time off later in your pregnancy and sitting out of cases like this.

“Shit he’s already here,” Emily cursed when she noticed Jonathan’s SUV parked a couple of blocks from Peter’s address. “Call Hotch.”

You dialled Hotch’s number and he picked up almost instantly, “What is it, L/N?”

“He’s already here, his SUV is parked a couple blocks down from Peter’s address. He’s already out looking for him,” You quickly said.

“We’re on our way, units are already on route,” he hung up after that.

Emily pulled the car up on the gutter, the car skidding to a stop. You immediately pushed the door open, holding your gun by your thigh as you ran across the lawn to Peter Harvey’s house. You knocked on the door and a woman answered after a beat.

“Mrs Harvey?” You asked, panting softly.

“Yes?”

“Is your son Peter here?”

“No, he went to the store down the street an hour ago, he should be back soon… What is this about?” She asked, her hand gripping the door in concern.

“We believe someone dangerous may be looking for your son,” Emily said. Mrs Harvey rested her hand over her mouth, a soft gasp leaving her lips.

“Mom?” You spun around and Peter stood with a plastic bag of groceries in his hand in the middle of the lawn.

It all happened almost in slow motion. You saw a figure wearing dark clothes stalking across the lawn and without even thinking, you darted toward Peter as the UnSub pulled the gun out of his coat, aiming it straight at Peter’s head. You could hear Emily yelling at Mrs Harvey to go back inside before she pulled out her gun and aimed it at the UnSub; but it was too late.

You shoved Peter to the ground as he fired, feeling the shot burn through your shoulder as both you and Peter fell to the ground. You instinctively pressed a hand to your burning shoulder, warm blood oozing from the wound and through your fingers.

“Jonathan Hughes?” You said, your breathing heavy as you tried to fight through the pain. He held his gun right in front of your face.

“Move,” he grunted, his eyes glassy.

“I know what happened to your wife,” you breathed trying to stall him as more police cars with blaring sirens pulled into the street.

“They killed her,” tears streamed down his face and you honestly felt bad for him.

“It was an accident,” you replied softly.

“They were drunk,” he almost yelled, his hand shaking as his gun was still trained on you.

“I know,” you said, “It was a stupid mistake that haunted them, Jonathan. I know it doesn’t change what happened but these boys–”

“They’re monsters!” he shouted, hot tears streaming down his cheeks.

You saw David and Spencer get out of the car. Spencer’s heart was in his throat when he saw you kneeled on the ground, shielding Peter with your body while your hand and shirt were covered in your own blood. He didn’t even pick up his gun as he began stalking toward you.

“Y/N?” His voice was soft when he called you at first, then it turned to outright concern and anger, “Y/N? No, no!”

David grabbed Spencer’s arm, pulling him back as Spencer fought against him, trying to get to you. It was irrational and it was dangerous. David quickly picked up his walkie, “An agent has been shot, we need an ambulance.”

“Who was shot?!” Penelope’s voice rang out in the car as she spoke to Morgan and Hotch.

“I repeat, agent L/N is shot, we need an ambulance,” David spoke before putting his walkie away to hold Spencer back, pulling him to the ground.

“Morgan! Oh my god!” Penelope felt tears form in her eyes.

“It’s okay, babygirl, she’s going to be alright,” Morgan said, trying to reassure her as Hotch stepped on the accelerator.

“No, Morgan, you don’t understand–”

“We’re going to get an ambulance–”

“She’s pregnant!” Penelope blurted out, not knowing what else to say for them to understand the gravity of why Penelope was so upset and concerned.

Hotch hesitated for a moment, “She’s what?”

Penelope let out a shaky breath, “she’s twelve weeks pregnant, Hotch. She wasn’t going to tell anyone until after the case– and now she’s been shot.” Penelope began to cry, holding her hand over her mouth as tears slipped from her eyes.

Hotch hadn’t sped that fast since he found out Foyet was in his house. He cared about his team a lot and he had a soft spot for you even though he wouldn’t admit it. The tires skidded along the road as Hotch pulled on the handbrake, both him and Morgan training their guns on the UnSub as they approached.

Morgan’s heart hurt at the sight of you, your skin slightly paled as blood bloomed from your shoulder, drenching your arm and your hands. You looked so scared as the UnSub trained his gun on you, unmoving. Emily had her gun aimed at the UnSub, yelling for him to put it down.

“Jonathan Hughes!” Morgan’s voice caught your attention. “Put down the gun!”

“Don’t move!” Jonathan shouted, “I’ll shoot her!”

“No you won’t, man,” Morgan shook his head.

“How do you know that!? She’s in my way!” He shouted back.

“She’s pregnant,” Morgan sighed. Your eyes widened as you looked at Morgan, who looked back at you with a sad expression.

Spencer stopped fighting against David, his breathing evening out as the words fell on his ears. You were pregnant. You were carrying his baby and you got shot and now you had a gun held up in front of your face. Spencer didn’t even realise he was crying, his tears cold against his warm skin. All he could do was watch, there was nothing he could do.

Jonathan glanced at you as you held your hand over your belly. “W-What?”

Morgan reached a hand out as he got closer. “Just like your wife, Jonathan… You wouldn’t kill a pregnant woman like those boys did.”

Jonathan seemed to dissociate, staring at you with such a hurt expression as Morgan leapt forward, grabbing the gun from Jonathan’s hands and tossing it across the grass. He pushed Jonathan to the ground, pinning his hands behind his back. You let out a breath as you felt yourself grow tired. Emily caught you before you fell the rest of the way to the ground, holding you close to her body as she screamed for a medic.

“You’re okay, you’re okay,” Emily gently rocked you, “you’re going to be fine.”

“I’m sorry,” you muttered, tears running down your cheeks.

Your eyes were heavy as you attempted to pry them open.

You let out a shaky breath as you finally pulled your eyes open, the smell of disinfectant hit you first, followed by the sounds of beeping. You were in the hospital. You glanced down at your arm, an IV stuck in your arm while a pulse oximeter was clipped to your finger. Despite the fact the doctor had prescribed pain medication, you still felt like shit and your shoulder was killing you.

A soft noise caught your attention and you glanced at the chair next to your bed, Spencer sound asleep in a chair with a hospital blanket draped over him. You smiled softly as you saw the flowers, balloons and plushies littered around your room, most likely a courtesy of Penelope.

“She’s awake,” Morgan smiled, standing in the doorway.

You grinned at him, “Hi, Derek.”

Morgan slowly walked over to your bed. “Feeling okay, pretty girl?” Morgan gently grabbed your hand, giving it a soft squeeze.

“I’m okay,” you replied. You almost didn’t want to ask but you knew you had to, “...is the baby okay?”

“Your baby is fine,” Morgan replied with a soft smile. You let out a breath of relief as you placed a hand over your tummy protectively. “...You scared the life out of everyone though.”

“I know,” you sighed.

“Especially your lover boy,” Morgan said, “he hasn’t left your side.”

“Sounds like my Spencer,” you laughed softly.

“Y/N?” Spencer’s voice was laced with sleep as he opened his eyes. He quickly got up, ditching the blanket on the floor to tend to you.

“I’ll leave you to it,” Morgan quickly said before leaving the room.

Spencer’s warm hands cupped your face as he pressed a kiss to your forehead, “I thought I lost you, Y/N.” He let out a breath, pulling away to stare at your face and stroke your cheeks with his thumbs. You reached a hand up to grip his forearm.

“I’m sorry–”

“You don’t need to–”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” Tears formed in your eyes as you stared up at him, searching for any kind of anger or resentment. There wasn’t any, he could never be mad at you.

“I wouldn’t have let you come on the case,” he replied after a beat. “I wouldn’t have let you leave the house.”

“That’s why I didn’t tell you… I knew you would be protective– more protective,” you corrected with a soft smile.

“I’m aware,” Spencer pulled his lips into a tight smile. “You know the odds of… complications are higher in the first trimester, angel. You should have told me,” he frowned.

“I know, Spence,” you sighed. “I just wanted to make sure I was in the clear before I told you… I understand being shot isn’t necessarily helping with that but–”

“I understand,” he replied. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

You stared at him for a moment, “are you happy?”

“Happy?”

“That I’m pregnant? I know we’re not married and our jobs are crazy but–”

Spencer cut you off by pressing a kiss to your lips, he pulled away slightly, “I’ve never been more happy,” he whispered.

You beamed with happiness, a bright smile tugging on your lips. Spencer hesitantly pressed a hand to your belly, his thumb stroking your tiny bump.

“Penelope thinks it’s a girl,” you muttered.

“...What do you think?” He asked curiously.

“I think she might be right,” you giggled softly.

“You know you can’t actually tell yet,” Spencer said and you rolled your eyes playfully.

“You asked what I thought!” you retorted.

He laughed softly, “Yes, you’re right, you’re right.”

“Mmm, did that taste like poison to admit?”

“Are gunshot victims supposed to be this mouthy?”

a/n: phew! i hope you guys liked it <3 i know i disappeared for a hot minute but here she is!!!

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nereidprinc3ss · 4 months

Text

slumber party

in which there's only one bed. fem bau!reader x spencer reid

fluff! warnings/tags: dark humor, (the word molest is used jokingly once but in my defense your honor its completely on brand for early seasons cm humor, if u cancel me u have to cancel the whole cast those are the rules, its just a joke cause reader always flirts w him aggressively, pls don't come for me i have a wife and children and three boyfriends to take care of,) mutual pining, bullying and death threats as flirting, they love each other so much and bicker like children, glasses spencer, (moans), emily and rossi are mentioned bc canon means fuck all to me, i think thats it but this is my most out of pocket duo so if i'm wrong lmk a/n: just a silly little thing that i cooked up, not a masterpiece but i think its cute!! I hope u enjoy!! lmk what you think!! looooveee youuuu

“Oh, there is no way.”

Your duffel bag hits the dingy carpet as Spencer is still closing the door behind you.

“What? Is it—”

You give him a look over your shoulder, eyebrows raised as if to say, what are you going to do about this?

But he only manages to meet your eyes for a split second before they’re back to the singular queen bed, darting over the white sheets and pillows like he might find another mattress if he looks hard enough.

Sharing a room with Spencer, you can handle. You've done it before. Whenever the team has to pair up at a hotel, you two are an obvious choice. And while you occasionally butt heads, mostly you adore each other and it's great.

But sharing a bed is a whole other situation.

One you were not prepared for. And evidently, neither is he.

Watching his big anxious eyes flit around the room nervously, you feel sort of bad for your reaction. You know you can be a bit… abrasive, sometimes.

“It’s fine, I’ll just—I’ll see if I can share a bed with Emily or JJ in their room—”

Just then there’s a knock at the door. Spencer looks relieved to have something else to focus on, turning back around and quickly undoing the latch again before opening the door to reveal your favorite raven-haired SSA. Emily leans past the doorjamb, eyes immediately honing in on the awkward sleeping arrangement.

“Oh my god! You guys too?”

“What?” You and Spencer ask at the same time. Emily raises her eyebrows at this and glances between you, but otherwise doesn’t comment.

“Me and JJ only have the one bed. I thought it might just have been us.”

You frown. There goes your plan of sharing a room with them.

“What about Morgan and Garcia?”

Spencer snorts.

“Something tells me Penelope wouldn’t be too torn up about it if that's the case.”

“Hotch and Rossi?”

The room goes quiet and a little chilly as the thought disturbs everyone equally. Emily frowns deeply.

“I don’t even… I can’t picture that.”

“Can we please not try to picture it?”

“Great. Okay, well. I just wanted to make sure everyone is suffering equally. Good luck, champs.”

“Thanks,” Spencer mutters dryly. Emily smiles, eyes darting between the two of you for just a moment too long, before pushing off the door frame and disappearing from sight. Once the door is closed again, a heavy silence ensues. “I’ll… I can take the floor—”

“It’s fine, Spencer. I’m not going to make you sleep on the floor. We’re both grown-ups. Besides, we like each other, right? It’ll be like a slumber party.”

“I’ve never had one,” he admits. His glasses slip further down his nose as he frowns. Your fingers itch to push them back up.

“Then I’m happy to be your first,” you tease, facing him fully with your hand on your hip and barely resisting the urge to add, I’ll be gentle. “Do you want the shower first or can I?”

Spencer has a habit of looking you up and down like he doesn’t realize he’s doing it. Some might find it odd, but his utter lack of social graces is, lucky for him, incredibly endearing to you.

“You can have it first,” he says, meeting your eyes again. “Just don’t do that thing where you get the entire bathroom soaking wet.”

“Aw. But I love doing that. It’s my favorite part,” you tease, scooping up your bag once more.

Twenty minutes later you’re emerging from the bathroom with damp hair, clad in loose shorts and a college hoodie.

“Nice outfit,” Spencer says from the spinny-chair at the desk, examining your outfit choice with a scrutiny you wish you’d been prepared for. Really, you wish you’d known ahead of time you’d have a roommate and brought some alternate sleeping clothes. “I had no idea you felt so passionately about… Scooby Doo?”

“Shut up right now,” you grit, tossing your bag into the corner of the room and tugging your hoodie down over your cartoon-patterned shorts as far as you can.

“What?” He’s laughing as he brushes past you on his way into the bathroom, bearing his own bag. “It’s a good look for you.”

Your face is burning as you choose the side of the bed furthest from the door. Springs creak underneath your weight as you sink down, sitting with your legs hanging off the side for a moment before swinging them up onto the mattress, leaning against the headboard and side-eyeing the empty space next to you. There’s really not very much of it. The bed feels even smaller than it looks.

From the bathroom you hear the sound of the shower squeaking and starting up again—a cacophony of droplets against tile on the other side of the wall. You try not to be nervous as you imagine Spencer filling the space beside you in just a few minutes, hair wet and in pajamas. And yet you spend each second wondering if he’s almost done, wondering if the shower will finally sputter to a halt, and once it does, wondering how long it’ll be before he’s out again. It’s ridiculous how impatient you're getting—and by the time you finally watch the door knob twist you feel crazy.

“I think that was your longest shower yet, Dr. Reid.”

The teasing affords you a moment to ogle him head to toe, taking in his choice of pajamas—tonight, familiar plaid pants and an MIT crewneck—as well as his hair which has already begun to dry. Briefly you wonder if he does that thing guys do, where they lean down and haphazardly dry their hair with a towel because they have no concern for its texture whatsoever. But you kind of doubt it, because his hair always looks so soft.

“You were sitting here waiting for me?” He chuckles, and honestly you’d been expecting a shyer response. But you adapt quickly.

“Maybe I was. Big spoon or little spoon?”

“Ha-ha.” He opens a drawer in the dresser and begins unpacking his clothes into it. It's a funny habit of his. You never unpack your duffel. “You took the better side of the bed.”

“Uh, yeah. I’m the woman. I get to do that.”

“Well you should know that if an intruder breaks in, I’m not fighting him off. You’d probably have a better chance than me.”

“And my chances will be even better if he’s distracted with you first.”

“So I’m just bait?” He scoffs, looking back at you. Strands of wet hair hang so prettily around his face, like the perfect frame around a work of art. You smile sweetly from your spot on the bed before playfully biting at the air in his direction. The message goes unspoken but reads loud and clear. Of course you are. You make such good bait.

That gets a blush out of him and he has nothing else to say as he turns back to his drawer. Happily you lean back against the headboard, stretching your legs out and bouncing slightly in place. Beneath you the mattress springs groan and squeak in protest.

“I hope you're not going to be this irritating all night.”

It's clearly lighthearted, but you promptly stop and frown at his back.

“Call me irritating again and see where you end up sleeping tonight.”

“I just don’t see how you’re even more hyperactive than usual right now. Has anybody ever told you that you’re crepuscular?” Spencer asks, finally sliding the drawer shut and going to shut the overhead light off. Your eyes narrow.

“Obviously nobody has told me that.”

“It means y—”

“I’m most energetic within the few hours around dusk and dawn. Contrary to your belief, Dr. Reid, other people are also capable of looking up words in a dictionary and remembering what they mean. Are you going to stand in the corner all night or are you gonna come to bed?”

“I am,” he scoffs, clearly embarrassed and shy and embarrassed of being shy. “I’m just… you look like you kick in your sleep. And hog the blankets.”

You shrug, folding your knees to your chest and hugging them quaintly.

“I’ve never had any complaints. In fact, you should be so lucky to share a bed with me. All five star reviews, baby.”

You toss a suggestive wink in at the end, which seems garish enough to break the tension so that Spencer can stop lingering in the corner like a sleep-paralysis demon and move to carefully take his place next to you. He almost mirrors your position, but his legs are too long to quite manage your level of compactness and so they simply fold underneath him. A few silent moments go by, in which you have the dumbest smile on your face and you keep glancing over to the side, waiting for him to be looking back at you.

“This is already the least relaxed I have ever been in a bed.”

“Good thing we’re not going to sleep yet.”

Finally he looks at you, a casual mix of hesitance, concern, and moderate curiosity coloring his features.

“We’re not?”

“Oh, my god, Spencer,” you snort. “I’m not gonna molest you. We have to do slumber party stuff, remember?”

He flushes again, glancing at the digital clock in his bedside table.

“But it’s late. We should go to sleep.”

“At slumber parties you have to stay up until you literally can’t keep your eyes open anymore. Those are the rules. I don’t make them.”

Still, your insistence that you follow the international code of sleepover law goes unabided by Spencer. He simply leans over to flick off his lamp, bathing the room in darkness.

“I appreciate the effort,” he says, and your eyes haven’t adjusted but you can hear the rustle of sheets and blankets as he gets under them, “but unfortunately we have to be awake and alert in five hours.”

“You’re no fun,” you huff, but climb under your own side of the cover and scoot down until you’re flat on your back, covered in blanket and hands folded on your sternum.

Spencer doesn’t respond.

It’s silent for maybe five minutes, during which your brain doesn’t slow down at all. Maybe you are crepuscular. Or slightly nocturnal. You have nothing but energy.

In an attempt to get comfortable, you try adjusting your position.

The mattress squeaks.

You do it again.

Another squeak.

A second goes by, and now you’re intentionally jostling about, squeaking the mattress as much as you can.

“Would you stop that?” Spencer says, voice already gravelly with sleep. You manage, but you’re already devolving into a fit of giggles. “I’m going to smother you with this pillow,” he threatens, but you hear the disgruntled smile curling his words.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m just not in the mood to rest.”

Another moment passes. He sighs deeply. You smile into the dark.

“What are you in the mood for?” He asks flatly, and you’ve won.

“Tell me a secret,” you immediately demand in a hushed tone, flipping on your side to face his back. “Something you’ve never told anyone else.”

“I don’t—”

“Shh! You have to whisper it. Those are the slumber party rules.”

“I don’t have any secrets,” he whispers, clearly flustered, and to your delight, rolling to face the ceiling. “None that you’d want to hear.”

“Oh, now that’s just not true. You’re an enigma, Spencer Reid. You fascinate me.”

You’re only sort of kidding.

“I… fascinate you?”

“Completely. You know, ever since you moved your desk across from mine I get distracted just staring at you and wondering what you’re thinking about. But you’re very… hard to read, sometimes. I think it’s because you’re a Scorpio.”

“The position of the stars at the time I was born has no bearing on my personality.”

“Fine,” you concede, still in a glorified stage whisper. “But that doesn’t mean you don’t display the archetypal Scorpio traits. You’re all brooding, mysterious. Kinda, I don't know... intense and sexy and unknowable…”

“Sexy?” He laughs, breaking the whisper rule. You grin and let it slide. You’d hoped he would catch that one.

“Hey,” you snap, losing the smile immediately and lightly shoving against what you hope is his shoulder. “You’re supposed to be telling me a secret, damnit. I won’t let your wiles and charm distract me from getting what I want.”

“When have you ever let anything stop you from getting what you want?”

Truly, your cheeks are going to start aching with this constant back and forth between poker-faced and huge Cheshire smile.

“Stop flirting and answer my question, Reid.”

With the amount of times you’ve made him sigh tonight he must be dizzy. You chew your lip apprehensively in the silence, picking a loose thread on your pillow. It’s so pitch black in the room, you can’t see him where he lies only a few meager inches from you. But you can feel his presence. You can feel the unexpected bass to his voice when he’s tired and speaking this lowly, which you’ve never heard before.

“All the secrets I’ve never told anyone are just… depressing.”

Your heart sinks a little at the way he swallows between words, like that in and of itself was hard to admit. Unthinkingly your hand slides into the small gap of white cotton between the two of you.

“Not very good slumber party material, I think,” he laughs self-consciously.

“You’d be surprised.”

The sentiment comes quieter and more serious than you’ve been all night. If only you had the words to tell him that he can tell you anything. That you want to hold his secrets for him under lock and key. That you would never, ever do anything less than offer him kindness and support—even if it doesn’t always seem that way when you’re teasing him.

“Do you have any secrets you’ve never told anyone else?” He murmurs eventually, so soft it could kill you.

And you do. There are plenty of dark ones, probably not all dissimilar from those he’d elected not to share only a moment ago.

But you don’t bring those up.

Instead, you decide to admit to something silly. Still, it makes you nervous as you feel it coming loose in your chest. You’ve really never told anyone this, and it’s perhaps more vulnerable than you’d realized before the words were already leaving your mouth.

“I, have…” You pause to laugh at yourself, and continue on. “I have a stuffed dragon that I take with me on every single case.”

“You do?” Spencer laughs, so loud and unexpected it almost hurts your ears, angling his head toward you. Blood rushes to your face.

“Yes. He usually sleeps in bed with me. He’s an excellent listener and has been the origin of several of my most genius breakthroughs. You remember Gibson Cooper?”

“Family annihilator from Houston?”

“Correct. He’s in prison because Oscar helped me make the Cook Creek Campground connection between the O’Hara and Diangelo families.”

“You have a stuffed profiler dragon named Oscar? Is he here?”

“He’s—I mean, I wasn’t expecting to share a room with someone.”

“So he’s in your bag.”

“Yes,” you seethe, “and I will not be introducing you to him. He doesn’t do well with men.”

“You are genuinely psychotic.”

You huff.

“Fine. I’m sorry I told you anything.”

You’re about to roll over onto your other side—but Spencer surprises you by catching the hand that had been outstretched in his direction. He carefully intertwines your fingers and squeezes gently.

“You’re right. That was mean. Thank you for telling me about Oscar.” His tone is surprisingly teasing, and you’re so uncharacteristically flustered by this rare show of physicality and affection that you can’t muster an adequate comeback. Spencer doesn’t seem to mind filling your silence, though, sounding a little more solemn now. “I’m sorry I don’t have any secrets for you.”

The way his voice gets all thin and scratchy sometimes—it’s like the earnest sincerity just pours out of him. He can’t control it. He can’t be anyone other than who he is. Maybe that’s a part of why you love him so much. You wonder if he knows how much you love him. It’s not exactly a secret—anyone on the team would be able to tell as much. You’ve been relentlessly teased for the way you are with him. For your batting lashes and your lingering touches and your unabashed flirting. But beneath it all is true affection, and nobody doubts that.

“It’s okay,” you decide with a squeeze of your own, after a moment of deliberation. “You’ll think of something. ’Cause, y’know—you’re stuck with me for at least a few more days.”

“Oh, god,” he laughs, and releases your hand, rolling over to face away from you. But you don’t mind. You’ll get lots more time to invade his personal space over the coming week or so. “Goodnight.”

“Sweet dreams,” you sing-song, turning away to face the wall with what is perhaps your biggest, stupidest smile yet.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x you #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fic #criminal minds imagine

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parfaitblogs · 5 days

Text

fresh out the slammer ❀ s. reid x reader

in which spencer reid comes home from prison, and needs to fulfil everything he has missed about you.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: smut & comfort (18+ mdni) tags: post prison!reid. soft dom!spencer. teeth might rot i was cringing during some of this. established relationship. the briefest of breast play because what do i hate? the word nipple! fingering. p in v. no protection is mentioned but imagine what you will. casual nudity afterwards. spencer's got bruises from prison. i lowkey forgot about his thigh wound until the very end. word count: 5.7k a/n: there's a completely different version of me in a world where i didn't write this. i hope she's doing well. i feel like i've been reborn. this is stupidly long LOL my apologies. pleaseee tell me if you liked this! or if you didn't! i love feedback! here's my monthly smut fic see you all in october!

Three months wasn't a long time, in the grand scheme of things. A quarter of a year usually went by too quickly for anybody's liking, the year sprinting through seasons until all twelve months were complete, and you were repeating it all over again. Usually. Three months without Spencer Reid, however, went by achingly slowly. And you hadn't originally considered just how agonising they could be.

Each day was another painful mirror of the last, waking up and going to bed with the same sense of dread in your stomach, oftentimes swallowing you whole and leaving you unable to do just about anything at all.

Living life without Spencer Reid was hard.

You saw him — of course you did. Despite his original efforts to keep you off the approved visitors list, Penelope Garcia had seen one glimpse of your heart shattered expression upon being told, and marched her way to the prison to slap sense into him. You weren't sure if that was metaphoric or not.

However, seeing him once every other week and living with him were two very different situations. You hadn't realised just how much you had depended on him always being there when you woke up in the morning until you were waking up to cold bed sheets and a pillow clutched petulantly to your chest in hopes of recreating the warmth only Spencer could provide.

And then he was free.

From prison, that is. You hadn't heard it all — information about his time in prison had been kept from you in an attempt to protect your own peace of mind. But you knew from at least the bruises he was always sporting no matter when you went to visit him, that something awful had happened to him in there, and his own brain would keep him imprisoned for as long as it wished.

But he was free.

And he was here, and you were staring up at his face littered with unkempt facial hair and a head of untreated curls, and regardless of everything horrific he had endured brewing behind his eyes, he was staring at you with the same softness he had before any of this happened.

Despite the beginning of a protest when you wrapped your arms around his torso, you hugged him, and he hugged you, and even the faintest smell of grime and blood couldn't stop you from gripping onto him with so much force you thought your knuckles would break.

"You're real," you whispered into his chest, muffled by it, and it shook beneath your face as he laughed, quietly. Beautifully.

"I am," he answered, and you could feel him crushing his own facial features into the top of your head, no doubt inhaling your shampoo. "You're real."

"Yes," you confirmed with a nod.

Maybe hours passed, perhaps only minutes. Whichever it was, you were still reluctant to pull away from him until he did, your face stained with tear streaks you don't remember shedding, his own eyes glassy as your gazes met.

"You don't want to talk about it, do you?" you asked him, walking backwards as you led him out of the doorway you two had been finding solace in, and further into the apartment space you were ecstatic to share together again.

"Not particularly," he answered, strides catching up to you and encasing your waist between his hands, tugging your body closer to his own. "Is that okay?"

"As long as you promise not to keep it in," you replied, teeth chewing into your lower lip in a contemplative habit.

"I have counselling at work," he said, and you nodded, your facial features softening only a little — you knew him well enough to know he wouldn't enjoy said counselling sessions. Breath tickled your lips as he leaned in a little closer, inciting heat onto your cheeks. "Any other questions?"

"No," you replied, your own lips twitching in amusement. "That's it. Why?"

"Because I haven't kissed you in three months," he murmured, "and I want to."

"Maybe," you said with a hum, and he said your name chidingly, eliciting a laugh from you. "Yeah. Okay."

To be honest, you had spent a few too many nights allowing your thoughts to wander and end up dreaming about what it would be like to kiss him again. Whether or not either of you would have the patience to be gentle and kind to one another. In those nights, you had decided you would be. Your heart cracking every time you thought of Spencer alone in a concrete cell that it left you with a gaping hole in your chest. All you really wanted was to hold him and remind him how adored he was.

Right now, you learned you wouldn't be.

There was a tenderness in the way his hands found your cheeks to cup, and there was a softness in his fingertips against your skin. Yet, everything he kissed with was anything but. Feverish and quick, swallowing you whole and inspiring a spark in your chest that resulted in you kissing back just as hungry.

Just when you thought there was nothing left to trigger within him, a squeak left your lips as the result of him tugging you impossibly closer, and he was beginning to walk you backwards, even further into the apartment, his kiss growing all consuming.

"Spencer," you said, breathlessly, jerking your head back, staring at him, waiting for him to realise you weren't returning your lips to his, and his eyes opened.

"What?" he asked, almost irritatedly. When he watched the slight flicker of hurt flash on your face at the tone, his own expression became gentler. "I'm sorry. Is something wrong?"

Immediately, you shook your head. "No. I just wanted to check how far you wanted to go," your hands travelled up to his hair, fingers scratching gently against his scalp. "I know there's a lot going on up here."

"Actually, right now it's just you," he said, tilting a head to the side to lean into one of your palms. "It's mostly you all the time. But right now you're consuming it."

"I make such an impact on your life," you quipped.

"I know you're teasing, but you do," he replied, fingers tracing up and down either side of your jawline, eyes searching each small detail on your face he had no doubt already memorised. "I survived in there for you."

"Oh."

Probably not the most eloquent response for the things he had just confessed, but truly your brain had scrambled within an instant, and you weren't sure what to say.

"Sorry," he said, hands stilling on your face. "To answer your question, I don't know. I really missed you."

"I know," you said when a gaping silence followed his words. "We don't have to."

"I think I want to."

Your eyebrows furrowed. "You can't think, Spence. You've gotta know."

"I've definitely said that to you before," he chided, thinking for a moment, before, "yes. I did. First time we had sex."

"Sue me for repeating important sexual advice to you, Spencer Reid," you huffed. He laughed.

"No, I mean, I do. Want to," he finally replied. "I'm really scared of hurting you."

"Do you want to hurt me?"

"No."

"Then you won't," you reassured him, despite knowing whatever doubt he had in himself would not be resolved just like that, and it'll probably eat at his mind for a long while. "And even if you do, I won't be upset with you." When his face scrunched and his expression mirrored judgement, you stammered to clarify. "Not in a kinky way. Don't look at me like that, Spencer. Stop it. I just meant I'll understand. And I won't be mad."

"Didn't take you to be into masochism," he mumbled, and you groaned at his selective hearing, dropping your forehead to his shoulder, that shook with his laughter. "Kidding, honey. I know what you mean."

"Not funny."

"It was a little," he countered, a hand reaching up to entangle within your hair to pull your head back, gently, so he could look at you again.

"Hi," you said when your eyes locked once more.

"Hello," he answered, his lips pulling into a smile. "I'd like to kiss you again."

"You've used up your kiss for the day, actually," you replied, sweetly beaming up at him.

"Quiet," he shot back, leaning forwards and allowing his lips to brush hesitantly against yours, eyes searching your own with an added hint of desperation. "Please?"

You pretended to think for a moment too long, because he was already mumbling something that sounded a little like 'brat', and pressed his mouth to yours once more.

You couldn't complain.

It was the same intensity as earlier, and yet there was something in it that differentiated the homesickness of the kiss from then, and the desperation now. Large hands — that you would probably allow to encase you whole — pathetically held your face lightly, hips knocking with yours as he walked you backwards and up against the back of the couch.

"Spence," you whimpered embarrassingly, hands clawing at the sleeves of his suit jacket, trialling and failing at tugging it off his body.

"I got you, sweet girl," he mumbled against your lips, not breaking the kiss for even a second as he helped you, shrugging the jacket off and allowing it to fall to the floor — something he will certainly chastise himself for later.

"Bedroom," you said, in between heavy breaths and feverish kisses. A request he was more than happy to comply to, for he had nodded, and you were instantaneously tugging on one of his hands in the direction of the room, his eyes fixated on your body as he trailed behind.

"Missed you so much," he murmured as he tugged you back towards him the second he had kicked the door shut, lips finding the corner of your mouth, then your jawline, then your neck, as he kissed down you.

"So you've said," you breathed out, tilting your head to the side as he gently nipped at the skin.

"Do you get off on being mean to me?" he chided, lifting his head to look at you again, and your heart stuttered.

"No. Just that dominance act that it brings out," you murmured, attempting to keep the mood light. Successfully so, for air huffed out of his nose as his lips twitched, fingers that had dropped to your waist squeezing it gently. In unresolved doubt, you added, "I missed you too. Don't worry."

"I'm not," he replied, and the weight lifted off your shoulders. "Lie down."

"So demanding," you teased, though his tone was anything but firm.

You were met with an unimpressed look, and you merely grinned back as you climbed onto the bed, sitting cross legged atop it, staring up at him expectingly.

Instead of moving over you like you had expected, he crouched at the foot of the bed, holding his hands out on the mattress in front of you. Needing no more than the simple gesture, you untangled your legs and stretched them out in front of you, and he tugged you down towards the end of the bed, breath hitting the skin of your thighs deliciously.

"I'm supposed to be making you feel good," you argued when his fingers trailed up the sides of your legs, finding the waistband of your pyjama shorts.

"Why?" he questioned, halting his movements as he searched your face.

"Because you're the one who just got out of prison," his face scrunched at the verbal reminder. "Sorry. But... yeah. I have thought about making you come the day you got home like daily."

"Oh have you?" his eyebrows shot up, and it was then that your brain caught up to your running mouth, and your cheeks heated up.

"Nope. Forget I said anything."

"No," he pushed himself up from the floor, moving his body over yours on the bed, successfully forcing you to lie back. "Tell me those thoughts."

"Spencer," you moaned, shaking your head as you buried your face into your hands, that he was a little too quick to catch and pry away.

"I'm not going to judge you," he said, amused. "In fact, I aspire to know every single thought there is up in that pretty head of yours. Especially the ones about me. Please tell me."

"I just thought about making you come. There's nothing more exciting to it."

"Yes, but how?"

"My mouth, I guess," you mumbled, voice going impossibly quiet. "I don't know."

"You're acting like you have never given me oral," he said, catching your gaze within milliseconds of you averting it, thumb and forefinger straightening your head again.

"Nobody says oral, Spencer. Say head," your own face now scrunched up.

"Lots of people say oral," he defended.

"Yeah, old people. We are not old people."

"Fine, you're acting like you have never given me head."

Despite it being a jab at him to take the heat off of you, the phrase coming out from his lips sounded exceptionally vulgar for what it was, and it only resulted in your stomach flipping.

Finally, you regained some control over your own thoughts, and you found it in you to reply. "That's what I want to do. Because I want to make you feel good."

"You underestimate how much I gain from making you feel good," he countered, fingers lazily caressing the skin of your jaw as his eyes studied your face with an intensity that had your stomach flipping.

"It cannot be as good as an orgasm," you huffed, stubbornly so.

He nipped at your nose. "It is."

"Can we compromise?"

"So you don't want me to give you oral?" his eyebrows rose.

In every other situation, you would not be fighting him on this. In fact, he would probably have already gotten his foreplay of teasing and teetering you on the edge out of the way by now, and you'd be well and truly content. However, the forefront of your mind was still plagued by how little time Spencer had to take care of himself, and the last thing you needed him to be was at your service. Despite his protests.

"Head," you corrected. "And no."

He searched for remnants of a lie for a few beats longer, before he nodded his head, giving in. "What's your compromise, honey?"

"I don't think there's a sexy way to say to just put it in me," you said, and his lips curled up into an amused smile, followed by a huff of laughter.

"No, I don't think there is," he agreed. "I do think anything you say can be sexy, though."

You pulled a face, and you shook your head. "No. Don't say that ever again either."

"I can't compliment you, I can't give you ora—head," he rattled off. "Is there anything good I get out of this?"

"You get to fuck me?" you batted your eyelashes up at him.

"Such vulgar language," he chastised, ducking his head when a hand of yours rose to swat him.

Despite himself, his head had dropped to the crook of your neck, and he had begun placing feather like kisses along the skin that distracted you just enough to drop your hand back to the mattress beneath you.

Any other day, and you'd probably still be bickering with him until the minute he made you come. However, three months without even the faintest of touches from him left you overwhelmed with everything he did to you, and so the gentle kisses trailing down to the collar of your shirt were enough to destroy any coherent thoughts you could have.

Cautiously, and with a touch so delicate, Spencer lifted your — his — shirt up your abdomen, fingertips leaving behind the warmest of trails as they skimmed along your skin. One quiet whine from you was all it took for him to hurry his teasing along, and soon enough your shirt was discarded.

A quiet, sharp inhale of air was the other sound aside from your quickened breathing, and you felt tears sting your vision as another kiss was placed just below your now exposed collarbone.

The time without you seemed to weigh nothing in his mind as he took every inch of you in separately, lips mapping out your body like it was the first time all over again, though still knowing exactly when to pause and pay attention to for the sweetest of sounds to be ripped from your throat.

He liked to hear you.

Fingers found your waist as his lips kissed down your sternum, then back up and over until they reached your nipple. He spent time on each breast, ignoring your impatient whining as he neglected the rest of you for a few minutes too long (in your opinion).

"Spencer," you scolded, and it was all it took for him to accept you were not in the mood to wait, and for him to decide he wasn't either.

"Sorry, honey," he replied, voice impossibly soft as he returned his lips to your face, a kiss pressed to the corner of your mouth as his fingers found your shorts again. "Can I take these off?"

"I think we're incredibly out of balance," you replied. And though there wasn't really anything wrong with the sentence — you had certainly said it before — he still pulled back, an unrecognisable grey clouding his eyes. "What?"

"I want to keep my shirt on," was his response, the words inciting confusion to your face.

"What? Why?"

"Do I need a reason?"

You wanted to scream that yes, he did. But did he? Wordlessly, you shook your head, but it didn't help the pang of worry in your chest.

"Unless there's something like an embarrassing tattoo, I'm not going to judge you," you decided to say instead. "Did you get an embarrassing tattoo in prison?"

"No," he shook his head, and you were comforted by the amusement in his tone. "I didn't have the best time in prison."

"I know," you replied.

"And I wasn't very liked. By the men in there."

You knew that too, to an extent. You knew the bruises on his face weren't self inflicted. "You're liked by me."

"I know, sweet girl," a heart shatteringly sad smile stretched across his face as a hand lifted to your cheek. "It just isn't very pretty. And I don't want you to worry."

Well, now you were. Regardless, you nodded your head, turning your head to the side so you could kiss the palm of the hand on your face. "I won't worry, then."

"I want to keep my shirt on. Can that please be okay with you?"

Silently, and after a debate inside your brain, you nodded your head. Gratefully, he pecked your lips once more, before his focus shifted back to you and your body.

"Shorts. Can I take them off?" he asked, again.

"Yes."

"Thank you."

His fingers collected the fabric of your shorts' waistband, and gently pulled them down your legs, cool air washing over you despite the final leftover article of clothing on your body. You shivered, and you could hear him mumbling nearly incoherent apologies as he kissed your stomach.

"These too?" he then asked, eyes flickering between your face for confirmation, and the pair of underwear you still had residing on your body. You nodded your head, and he pulled them down too.

You do not remember a time ever fearing being naked beneath Spencer Reid's gaze, and that did not change even now, as an arguably different man drank in your entire body, the love he had for you not having wavered despite the passing of time.

And you certainly did not fear the way one of his hands slid up your leg, seemingly soothingly, until it teetered on the edge of too far up the limb to be innocent, and he was intensely watching your face for every reaction you could possibly make.

Achingly gently, his middle finger ran up the centre, collecting arousal you hadn't realised was there and knuckle gently bumping your clit, eliciting a quiet mewl from you. You watched him smile at the sound, dragging his finger back down, gathering more of your arousal until he was pushing the finger in.

Your eyes fluttered shut, the feeling oh so familiar, and yet seemingly foreign all at once. Too long, you decided then. Three months is too long.

Leaning back down, his lips brushed your jawline, the otherwise odd sensation of there being something — someone — inside of you balancing out with the pleasure that came from the comfort of it being him. And of course the delicate circles his thumb had begun to draw on your clit.

"Did you do this while I was in prison?" he asked you, lips moving against your skin.

"Touch myself?"

"Mhm."

"Yeah," you said, voice breathless. "Was never good, though."

"No?" he asked, curling his finger inside of you and tugging a louder moan from your throat. "Why not?"

"Just never felt as nice. Not like you."

"Oh. I'm sorry, angel," he murmured, pulling his lips away so he could look at you again. Though, your eyes were still planted shut. "I'll make up for it then, yeah?"

You feverishly nodded your head, and he laughed. Fulfilling his promise, he sped up the motions of his finger and thumb, your hands grabbing ahold of fistfuls of the sheets, in hopes that it will provide some comfort from the overwhelming feeling of Spencer touching you again.

"Can I add another finger?" he asked, and though slightly hesitant, you nodded your head.

He waited a beat longer before fulfilling your request, and there was something obscene about how easily another finger entered you. Though, Spencer thought it was pretty, and your back arching was pretty, and yes, he had missed this and he had missed you and he was biting his tongue from telling you that all over again.

"Spencer," a delicately breathy whine left your lips when the heel of his palm collided with your clit — thumb long forgotten once he had gotten distracted with thrusting fingers in and out of you.

"Hm?"

Your eyes fluttered open to meet his, the kindest smile on his face reminding you just how much he adored you, and your heart sporadically beat in your chest. When you didn't say anything else, he quickened his ministrations, eliciting more whines and moans.

"Is two orgasms too much for tonight?" he asked you, the question seemingly innocent regardless of both it's undertones, and what he was currently doing to you.

In hindsight you should've probably said yes. It most certainly would've hurried things along to something he would enjoy as much as you. However, if Spencer Reid fingering you was a religion, you were an eternally loyal follower, and you would do anything to keep him there for as long as you could.

So you shook your head, murmuring a quiet, "No. I can do two," and allowing him to fasten his fingers once more.

Fingers found and massaged that spot inside of you he had probably engrained into his brain, and he was leaning down to swallow the loud moan that followed from the feeling. Practiced motions tore the same sounds from your throat as he repeatedly brushed up against it, until your eyes were forced to squeeze shut once more, and hands that were once seeking solace in the sheets, found his wrist and wrapped around it.

"I can't move if you're going to keep my arm locked up, angel," he said when your nails dug into his wrist, lips smiling against your skin.

A few short jerks of his hand convinced you to let go of the death grip you had on him, instead returning them to the mattress.

Then he was doing that motion again, and again, and you were silently praying he would never stop. Although, if your moans were any indication to where you were at — and they were — Spencer wouldn't.

Your hips bucking told him more than he needed to know, and the absence of his body above you when he lay down on the bed next to you was long forgotten when a splayed hand on your abdomen pushed you back down into the mattress, your heart stuttering at the feeling.

Gentle whines of his name, and a repeated mantra of 'please, please, please' was the only thing your otherwise dismantled brain could come up with, and Spencer was relishing in the knowledge that he was doing this to you. And though it is something he knows he's done before, it had been far too long since and the reminder was always welcome.

"I know, sweet girl," he said against you when your eyes came open and searched his desperately, walls fluttering around his fingers indicating just how close you were.

"Please don't stop."

"I won't," he confirmed, punctuating the promise with his thumb returning to your clit. He had your best interest in mind — you knew that. He now wouldn't stop even if you begged him to.

Overwhelming seemed too insignificant of a word to describe what you felt like when you came, nerve endings all over your body sparking, instead of just the ones he was stimulating.

His thumb rubbing circles and his fingers thrusting in and out of you didn't falter until your shaking body had stilled and your strings of moans had diminished, slowly coming to a stop and leaving your body — seemingly — as fast as they had entered.

The content smile on your face was interrupted with Spencer's hand lifting to your lips, and instinctively you parted them, already knowing exactly what he was after.

His middle and ring fingers entered your mouth, and your face scrunched up despite yourself as you tasted yourself on them. He laughed at that — of course he did — and pulled them out soon after.

"You do that every time," he murmured, hair tickling your skin as he placed open mouthed kisses over your shoulder, up towards your neck.

"It tastes weird," you argued, and his teeth nipping your skin told you he disagreed. Though, he wasn't in the mood to argue, for he didn't say anything else on the matter.

"Still got it in you for one more?" he asked you, pulling his head back so he could see you once again.

"Yes."

"Good."

Your eyes watched him even as he rolled back to take his pants off, and the awkward smile he gave you provided the inkling of comfort that there was still the man from three months prior in there.

"I really missed you, you know?" This time it was you saying it, piercing the air as his hand came down between your thighs to part them. The head of his cock nudged against you, brushing delicately through your folds and eliciting a quiet whimper from your lips.

"I know," he answered, pressing kisses on your shoulder once more. "Are you okay?"

"Me? Yeah. I'm fine," you confirmed with a nod, confusion crossing your features all up until you learned why he was asking.

A broken moan, choked and caught in your throat, left you when he painstakingly slowly pushed inside of you. There's not a lot going on inside your mind when he stops, your entire body aflame and equally desperate for more, as you were for him to take a moment here.

"I love you," he breathed out, the words hurried and encouraging your heart to speed up, and your mind to melt even more.

"I love you too," you said back, voice just as quiet, gently nudging hips ushering for him to move.

"Impatient girl," he muttered, but you smiled nonetheless because he did (move).

His thrusts were slow, and gentle, but you never truly minded how much time he took with you once you two were here. Even more so now, for you were on the same page as him, and you wanted to savour every single moment of this down to the second.

A whimper left your lips, followed closely by the desperate whisper of his name, and lips that were still resting against your shoulder smiled.

"I thought about this a lot," he said to you, his hand that was holding your thighs slightly open sliding up to find your clit. "I definitely shouldn't have."

"Why?" You knew why, but the thought of hearing him answer it aloud excited you a little.

Unfortunately, he knew you better than that. "Don't play coy. You know why, honey."

"You're cruel," you huffed, and he laughed, rolling his hips to meet yours, earning another moan. "Maybe I don't."

"Use that wonderful imagination of yours, then," he answered, rubbing your clit at the same time as he moved his hips once more, effortlessly rendering you unable to respond to him again.

A teenage boy probably could've lasted longer than the both of you, but you decided to blame it all on your already sensitive nerves from a prior orgasm, and the fact that Spencer Reid had not had you like this for over 2190 hours (not that he was counting).

Whimpers escaped your throat as he kept his hips thrusting into you at an achingly slow pace, while his fingers working on your clit did anything but. It was an aching juxtaposition that left you reeling for more, and Spencer was now the one shutting his eyes so he could hold onto some semblance of composure.

"Spencer," you pleaded, and it was a quiet moan from behind you that told you he was exactly where you were.

"I know, honey," he replied, the desperation in his voice jumpstarting your heart. "Need to come, yeah?"

"Mmhm," you nodded your head quickly, breathlessly moaning. "Please."

"You're going to. Don't worry. Don't need to beg, sweet girl."

Commingled moans and obscenely wet noises filled the air, and your hips stuttered as your stomach twisted into knots.

Chanting his name like a prayer, you meet him wherever your two souls go in that moment, and it's a shuddering feeling as you come at the same time as him. For the first time in forever.

His hand drops back to your thigh and he massages the muscles there gently, willing himself to stop before he crossed the line of overstimulation — not that you think you'd complain about that.

There was an emptiness when he pulled out, but then he was kissing you again to make up for it, and you were smiling against his lips as you kissed him back. This time, without the fever.

"How're you feeling?" he asked you, quietly.

"Happy," you answered, forcing your heavy eyelids open when he pulled back. "How are you feeling?"

"Also happy," he agreed, and your heart soared.

"Good."

"You need to go pee," he said, placing another kiss on your cheek, before he leaned his body away entirely.

"Help?"

Arguably, you could do it yourself. Your limbs were tired, yes, and your mind was melting, but you were coherent enough to brave it alone.

Thankfully, you didn't have to.

He carried you to the bathroom, running the bath water after you had silently begged him for it with your eyes (looking between him and the empty bath with wide eyes and a jutted lip worked wonders), and leaving you to pee.

"Are you getting in with me?" you asked him as wobbly legs akin to a fawn carried you over to the now full and steaming bathtub.

"Do you want me to?"

Hesitantly, you nodded your head, fidgeting with your fingers in front of you. "But you'd have to take your shirt off. So you don't have to."

He studied your face for a moment longer, before he nodded, and fingers expertly worked at unbuttoning down the shirt.

"I'm okay now. That's the important thing you have to remember, okay?" his words provided little comfort, but you nodded your head regardless.

You had a suspicion already of what sight you were going to be met with, but it didn't stop the guilt settling into your chest when the shirt fell to the floor anyways.

"Spence," you murmured, taking a hesitant step forwards, heart falling to your stomach.

Bruises littered the skin, some fresh and still purple, others nearly healed and yellowing. But there were so many, and it was then that you were swallowing the rest of him in with your eyes, catching the bandage on his thigh.

"What is that?" you nodded towards the covered wound, and when your eyes returned to his face again, he was staring at you with an unreadable expression.

"A lot happened," he answered, quietly, before repeating, "I'm okay now."

You nodded your head, tears stinging your vision for nothing more than your ridiculous amount of empathy. "Can you tell me about it?"

"I will," he promised. "Eventually. Just not now, okay? I haven't processed it all yet."

"Okay," you replied, and his heart shattered at the sight of a tear slipping down your face.

"Hey," he took ahold of your hand and tugged you closer to him, fingers running through your hair and resting at the base of your scalp. "I promise, honey. I'm not going to disintegrate from a few bruises."

"It isn't just a few," you answered, voice wavering. "There's so many."

"You have a heart too big for your chest," he decided to say instead, leaning down to rest his forehead against yours. "Most of them don't even hurt now. Please believe me when I say I'm okay."

"I'm trying," your voice is thick with a sob caught in your throat. "I think I'm just really tired."

"Yeah," he crooned, agreeing. "Your body's released a lot of prolactin, which encourages sleep. Alongside the endorphins and dopamine that you're crashing from upon seeing this."

Wordlessly, you nodded your head, and he kissed the tip of your nose in an attempt to comfort.

"Bath, then we can sleep, and we can talk more in the morning," he listed off, and you merely nodded your head once more, sniffling and wiping your eyes.

"Okay."

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated ♡

#lia’s fics ♡#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer x reader #spencer x self insert #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid hurt/comfort

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mythology-void · 8 months

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okay so I was doing a Research™️ about ancient Greek etymology as one does and I found some Things that made me want to Violently Claw My Arms Off please allow me to force feed you my discoveries

So there are 2 words for "not" in ancient Greek, depending on the context: ou and mē. Having introduced himself in the Cyclops episode as " ou tis", or No-man, he then stabs Polyphemus in the eye. When Polyphemus' brothers come to check on him, they say this:

"... surely no man [mē tis] is carrying off your sheep? Surely no man [mē tis] is trying to kill you either by fraud or by force?"

Right after this, after the other cyclopes ditch Polyphemus, Odysseus's inner monologue goes something like this:

"Then they went away, and I laughed inwardly at the success of my clever strategem [metis]." (pronounced mEH-Tis)

Now, there's a difference between mē tis and metis. [mē tis] (pronounced mEH-Tis with a space between the syllables) is the literal translation for "no man". Metis is a word for extreme intelligence/cunning, which is something Odysseus is famous for.

Now, there are several examples of abuse of metis/intelligence in the Odyssey, but I think the juxtaposition between [mē tis], or the concept of anonymity, and metis, or extreme intelligence, is REALLY interesting. Odysseus's adoption of the title "No-man" was characteristic of metis--it was a really smart move that simultaneously hid him from the cyclops and avoided any future consequences. It was a highly effective strategy all wrapped up in a nest little package with a bow on it.

But when he revealed himself as Odysseus of Ithaca, effectively throwing off No-man (anonymity and [mē tis]), that was characterized as idiocy--he's essentially doxxed himself, and now he's doing to (spoiler alert) get tossed around the Mediterranean by Poseidon for the next 10 years.

This is really interesting because it lets you see the parallels/codependency between metis(intelligence) and humility. When Odysseus refused to allow himself to go unnoticed (hubris) he suffered for it. BUT when he declined instant glory/satisfaction (kleos) in order to achieve the long term goal of survival, he was rewarded with Athena's favor (pay attention. This part is important).

And this situation repeats itself MULTIPLE TIMES in the Odyssey--the EXACT SAME THING happens near the end of the book, with the suitors. When. Odysseus is dressed as a beggar and the suitors/Antinious are abusing him, he ACTIVELY CHOOSES not to react--he doesn't stand up and rip off his disguise and start hollering "TIS I, ODYSSEUS OF ITHACA! FEAR MY WRATH"

No. He sits there patiently and waits. He plans and schemes and quietly orchestrates their downfall without alerting them of it. Why? Because he learned his lesson the first time this happened. He buried his rage and adopted what was, according to Grace LA Franz, a more feminine form of metis, weaving a web of destruction for his enemies that ultimately resulted in their total annihilation (see Weaving a Way to Nostos: Odysseus and Feminine Metis in the Odyssey by Grace LaFranz). His patience allowed him to win the whole prize--no questions asked, no 10-year-long-business-trip strings attached--just the sweetness of a full victory. And he is, once again, rewarded with Athena's favor--both in the battle with the suitors and in the aftermath (cleanup/reuniting with Penelope).

This really reinforces the idea in the Odyssey that Odysseus's defining characteristic is not just his intelligence--it's his ability to learn from his mistakes. He used what he learned at the Lotus Eaters Island against Polyphemus--the Lotus Eaters drugged his men, so he drugged Polyphemus. He used what he learned from Circe and Polyphemus against the suitors--Circe used false sweetness and honeyed words to lure his men into a trap, so that's exactly what he did to the suitors. His hubris on Polyphemus' island cost his whole crew their lives, so he intentionally left well enough alone until the right time. He didn't just learn from his failures--he turned them into BATTLE STRATEGY.

i don't care what anyone says that is completely totally and objectively awesome

#Odysseus is a certified baddie 112% of the time #he's literally the coolest you can't convince me otherwise #there's a reason that literally everyone has a crush on him #even the lesbians #its the wordplay. his words #read me a poem in iambic pentameter you bloody stinky man #literally everyone: his sad wet vibes and dark undereye circles have captivated me entirely #odysseus #the odyssey #tagamemnon #odysseus x penelope #telemachus #epic the musical #the cyclops saga #odysseus of ithaca #poseidon #etymology #ancient greece #ancient history

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just-an-enby-lemon · 15 days

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Very silly thing but I have this Epic stupid hc where when Ody went to Sparta as a suitor (mostly just to watch the chaos) the only thing he knew about Helen was that she was the most beutifull mortal woman in the whole world.

So when they enter and see the whole Spartian Royal Family waiting he sees Penelope and thinks she has to be Helen as she is clearly the prestiest. At this point he still isn't in love. But he is pretty sure she is Helen.

So they keep finding each other and talking and Ody is soon pretty in love and talking all about how he knew Helen was gorgeus but not that she was funny and smart and the guys are like "wow he is already talking to Helen" because the king still didn't made proper introducions so Helen is only talking to the guys she really likes.

Then the official introduction between the suitors and Helen happens and Odyseus fully thinks it's some sort of test and is like "this is not Helen, that's Helen" *points to Penelope who is just there to cheer for her cousin and is pretending to not be disapointed the guy she was talking for weeks was here for Helen* and everyone else is like "what" and Helen is "no that's my cousin Penelope" and Odysseus just blurts out "but they said to look for the most beutifull woman around" Penelope blushes hard. And that's how Odysseus absolutely fails in conquering the heart of Helen of Sparta (and everyone is pretty okay with it).

#epic the musical #odysseus #penelope #odypen #helen of sparta #she deserves to be called and remembered by her real tittle #none of this helen of troy bs for my girl

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atlabeth · 2 months

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heat lightning

pt 1

pairing: spencer reid x fem gideon!reader

summary: you end up at the heart of the bau's latest case.

a/n: took way too long but here's more gideon reader! just as irritable as ever with some actual human emotions this time around. send help and prayers bc she's gonna need it. and before you ask there will in fact be some more parts to close up this case, i just have to write them first and it may take approximately 10 years. thank you for your consideration

wc: 4.1k

warning(s): reader still has daddy issues, still hates spence, and still argues w gideon the whole time. more angst! typical cm case stuff (a stalker that has taken vulnerable pics of reader) read w/ discretion if you are sensitive to those things. more drama and more tension and more not being a good time for anyone but me

“On your right, pretty boy.”

Spencer stops as Morgan rushes past him back to his desk, eyes trained on the hallway.

“Why are you in such a hurry?” he complains. “I nearly spilled my coffee.”

“Gideon’s daughter is here again,” he says. “Did you not feel the temperature drop five degrees?”

Spencer frowns. He opens his mouth to say something when he hears the telltale signs of your arrival: arguing.

“—so typical of you! I have to drop everything the moment you need me, but it’s like pulling teeth to get you to listen to me.”

Gideon turns the corner with you in tow. He has a duffle bag in one hand and a file in his other, his brow furrowed in frustration.

“That’s because this is important,” he says.

“Oh, and everything else I try to get you to be around for isn’t?”

“You know that isn’t what I meant,” Gideon says, keeping his voice level.

“This is ridiculous,” you spit.

“It’s necessary,” he corrects. “I’m not going to play games with your safety.”

“Oh, yeah,” you mock. “Because you’ve always cared about that.”

He just shakes his head. “I’m not debating this with you.”

“Why? Because you’ll realize that it’s ridiculous?”

You follow Gideon into his office and Spencer watches him close the blinds. The door slams shut, and though he can still hear the muffled argument he can’t make anything out.

“Oh, great,” Morgan says. “Now we can’t even get Reid to read their lips.”

“I don’t think we need it to know what they’re talking about,” Elle says. “They’ve been arguing since she was brought in.”

“Of course they have,” JJ says. “Gideon sent Hotch to pick her up instead of doing it himself. She sees it as another slight.”

“She sees everything as a slight,” Spencer says. “She hates him.”

“I don’t blame her,” Morgan mutters. “Not when we only found out about her last month.”

“Surely this isn’t helping with anything,” JJ says wryly.

Elle shrugs. “Doesn’t matter. Sometimes pointless arguing makes you feel better, even when you’re in the wrong.”

“That’s enough, agents.” Spencer’s attention—along with everyone else’s—snaps to the top of the bullpen to see Hotch holding a file with the same expression as always. “I need you all in the conference room.”

“Does it have anything to do with that?” Morgan asks, tilting his head towards Gideon’s office.

“You’ll find out,” he says. Hotch starts walking to the conference room, the conversation clearly over.

JJ sighs as she stands up and grabs the files on her desk. “I’ll get Penelope. The rest of you try not to gossip too much.”

She goes off, and the others disperse back to their desk to finish up some last-minute things before the case takes them away. Spencer can’t tear his eyes away from Gideon’s office, even though he’s not getting anything.

All he can think about is the last time you were here, when he got caught in the middle of your argument with Gideon—your dad, which was still a little weird—and he can’t help but feel guilty.

Gideon is a father figure to him, sure, but it isn’t that difficult to end up with that dynamic when Spencer’s the youngest on the team. And he can go into everything about his father leaving and the psychology of that, but it doesn’t matter. Gideon treated him like a son when he had a daughter all along that he’d been neglecting.

For all Spencer knows, it is his fault.

“Reid,” Elle says, snapping him out of his thoughts, “you coming?”

“Yeah,” he says, nodding far too many times as he catches up to her in a few quick strides. “Sorry.”

“No need,” she remarks. “Gideon’s kid was all anyone could talk about when she first showed up here. This is only gonna make things worse.”

“He can’t really be that bad of a dad,” Spencer says, “right?”

“All I know is that having a parent in the force rarely ends well,” Elle murmurs. She opens the door to the conference room and looks at him. “We can’t be too hard on her when we probably see Gideon more than she does.”

Spencer recalls his meeting with you, how he barely got a word in edgewise while you spent the whole time arguing with someone half the office viewed as immovable.

“Yeah,” he says distantly. “I don’t think that’ll be a problem.”

“Why? Because you’ll realize that it’s ridiculous?”

Your dad shuts the blinds on all the windows in his office, then closes the door behind you. He sets your duffle down on the floor then looks at you, that infuriatingly even expression still unchanged.

“It’s not ridiculous,” he says. “Sit down and lower your voice, please. We have some things to talk about.”

“I gathered that when you sent your guy to pick me up,” you say, crossing your arms as he walks over to his desk. “Couldn’t even do it yourself?”

“Aaron Hotchner is the chief of this unit and one of the most accomplished agents here,” he says. “He lives closer to you than I do, and I asked him to pick you up on his way in because I knew you would be safe with him. Sit down, please.”

“There it is again. My safety.” You remain standing. “Tell me what this is about. I’m missing work right now— I know you can understand that, at least.”

He lets out a sigh as he says your name and looks at you. “Can we get through this without any arguments for once?”

“That depends. Are you going to treat me like your daughter or an inconvenience?”

“You’re my daughter, I love you, and your life is in danger,” he says evenly.

You open your mouth to retort, but your dad opens the file in his hands and sets it down on the other side of the desk. You can see from your position that they’re photos, but your curiosity ultimately wins out. You walk over to get a closer look, and any words die in your throat as you pick up the first photo.

A photo of you.

You pick up the next one, only to see it’s another picture of you. At least ten photos are tucked away in the file, and they’re all of you. Taken outside your work, at your apartment, on your morning run— god, there’s even one taken through the window of your bedroom, half-naked in a towel after a shower.

You fall silently into the chair, your heart hammering inside your chest as your eyes dart between all of the photos. You want to crawl out of your skin.

“What the fuck is this?” you breathe.

“The heart of our newest case,” your dad says. “It appears that you have a stalker.”

“Yeah,” you whisper, eyes still glued to your oblivious self, “I would fucking think so.”

“These photos were dropped off at my door this morning,” he says, and he flips to the next section of the file, “with that note.”

The erratic handwriting instantly stands out to you as you pick the photocopy up, the lump in your throat growing with every word you read.

such a pretty little thing. I wonder if she knows it.

you don’t care about her, but I do. she’s just like all the rest of us, everyone that you’ve ruined.

think about your priorities, agent gideon. I’ll be watching.

“What the fuck is this?” you repeat. Blood pounds in your skull as a distant chill creeps down your spine. “I— I’m one of your cases now?”

“We’re not sure yet,” he admits. “These only appeared yesterday, but from the looks of it, the unsub has been watching you for a while. Can you pinpoint when any of these photos were taken?

You stare at him. “Some psycho has been stalking me for a while?”

Your dad says your name again, slightly strained. “Please. I know this is difficult to think about, but figuring out a time frame would help us.”

“Difficult,” you scoff. “Yeah, that’s one way to put it.”

But it doesn’t have the bite your words usually hold. For once, you don’t think you’re mad at your dad. You think you’re terrified.

“...Yeah,” you finally murmur, and you pick up one of the photos. “I thrifted a mirror a month ago, and this one doesn’t have it.”

Your dad nods, and he picks up two others. “Neither do these.”

“So this has been going on for at least a month,” you say bitterly. “Great.”

Your dad says your name, quieter this time, and when you finally look at him his eyes have softened.

“We’re going to figure this out,” he says. “This is a threat against an FBI agent’s family, and it will be treated accordingly. Forensics is doing tests on all the original copies to try and find a lead. The whole BAU will be on your case—I will be on it, and we won’t rest until we find whoever’s doing this.”

“Yeah,” you say numbly. “You sure that’ll help? Because it looks like all this is happening because I’m your daughter.”

“I know this is scary,” he says. “This… this is nothing like you’ve ever dealt with before. You shouldn’t have to deal with it. But you have to trust my team. We know what we’re doing.”

“Of course you know what you’re doing,” you say. “You’re always here.”

Your words have no bite behind them, more of an instinct as you grab your purse from the ground. You can feel the pinpricks of incoming tears, and you refuse to cry in front of your dad.

“I— I need a minute,” you say. “This is all just—”

“I understand,” he says. “Just don’t go far. Stay on this floor.”

You nod and start towards the door, but you pause right before you reach it. Your mouth opens as you try to think of something to say, but it falls shut just as quickly. You shake your head as you reach for the door handle, but before you get the chance, it swings open and you’re met with a familiar face.

Spencer Reid, the kid your dad likes more than you. He’s nothing less than surprised to see you, from his stumbled step back, the slightly wide eyes, his hand poised to knock on the door.

A mumbled apology falls from your lips as you move around him, and you can still feel his eyes on you as you speed off. You wonder what ideas he and the rest of the BAU have drawn up about you since your last visit to the office.

You don’t really care.

True to your word, you don’t go far—just to the bathroom. Thankfully it’s close, because the moment you make it to one of the stalls, knees stinging as you fall to the tiled floor, you vomit.

By the time you’ve expelled the contents of your stomach, it feels just as empty as the rest of you. You stare at the wall, breathing slightly harried and skin warm to the touch, and you resist the urge to punch it.

You have a stalker. Someone has been watching you for a month—at least a month, maybe longer—and you had no fucking clue, and now your only decent hope lies with your dad and his team.

Normally, you wrote off anything depending on your dad as fruitless, but this involved the thing he loved more than anything in the world: his job.

You huff a wry laugh at the thought. This wouldn’t get solved because it concerned you, it would get solved because it concerned his job.

You stand up and walk over to the sink. You rinse your mouth, then just stare at yourself in the mirror.

It— it feels strange. Looking at yourself like this, knowing someone has been—still is—watching you.

You recall their words.

Pretty little thing.

You don’t care about her, but I do.

A chill crawls up your spine. You can’t shake the dread settling all over you.

What the fuck are you going to do?

You have to trust your dad, but you’ve never trusted your dad. God, he’s not even really your dad. He’s Senior Supervisory Special Agent Jason Gideon, nothing more—the estranged kid is an unfortunate side effect of the estranged wife.

You let out another breathy laugh. Would he even care if this psycho actually ends up killing you?

You stand there for another couple minutes, time idling in the background as you continue to stare at the mirror.

You haven’t cried, at least. That’s certainly something.

The door opens ever so slightly and someone says your name. Your eyes flick to the mirror almost immediately as your body tenses, and you recognize her as one of the BAU’s agents. She’s pretty and blonde with sympathetic eyes, and you know they’ve been briefed on your situation.

If you have to deal with an office of pitying looks, you think you might lose your mind.

“Are you alright?” she asks softly.

“Just peachy,” you mumble. “My dad ask you to check up on me?”

She nods. “You can imagine why Gideon is a bit high strung at the moment.”

“I’m fine,” you repeat. “I just… needed a second.”

“I understand,” she murmurs. “Do you still need some time?”

“What do you need?”

“Gideon wants to talk to you. It’s best if he explains it.”

You huff a laugh and shake your head. “Fine. Lead the way, Agent…”

“Jareau,” she supplies. “But call me JJ, please.”

In lieu of a response, you walk over to her. She offers a thin smile and holds the door for you, then falls into step with you. A moment of silence passes before she speaks up.

“We’re going to figure this out,” JJ says. “Your dad is one of the best to walk through these doors. If anyone can solve this, he can.”

“So I keep hearing,” you murmur.

Spencer watches you hurry off with wide eyes, and it takes a few seconds for him to snap out of it. He’s less surprised by your pace, and more surprised that you actually apologized for bumping into him.

“Reid,” Gideon speaks up, and his attention snaps back over to his superior. “What do you need?”

“Is she okay?” he asks instead. He can’t help it—after what Hotch just told all of them, he’s worried about you.

Gideon gathers the photos back into the file then stands up. “Our job is to make sure she will be.”

“Hotch briefed us,” he says, and his eyes darted back to the doorway almost on instinct. “This— this is crazy. We just found out about her last month, and some guy’s been after her for longer?”

“What this is is one of my enemies targeting my daughter because they’re too much of a coward to go after me,” Gideon says evenly. “We just have to figure out which one before they escalate.”

“How do you know?” he asks.

“What you said is true,” he admits. “Hardly anyone knows I have a daughter. Even fewer would know where she lives. Someone who wants to hurt me would have incentive to discover both.”

“So we look into unsubs you’ve put away that have been released,” Spencer says. “Or ones that are still in, but have family that might be bitter.”

“Exactly,” Gideon nods. “But I have to ask something of you, Reid.”

He frowns. “Anything.”

“We’re working on getting a safe house for my daughter,” Gideon says. “I need you to stay there with her.”

Somehow, his frown deepens. “What?”

“I need to know she’s with someone I can trust,” he says. “There’s someone after her, and we don’t know who—that means we need to keep this circle tight.”

“So you want me to be her bodyguard?” Spencer marvels. “Do you remember that you had to waive all my physical tests?”

“Less of a bodyguard,” he says. “More just… keeping her company. Making sure she’s alright—mentally as much as physically.”

“Why am I the one that has to keep an eye on her?” Spencer asks. “She hates me!”

“Don’t take it personally,” Gideon says. “She hates a lot of things.”

“But it is personal,” Spencer insists. “She hates me because she thinks you like me more than her.”

Gideon doesn’t seem phased at the comment. “She’s opinionated, but she’s harmless. And right now, I need to know that she’s with someone I can trust.”

“I— I still don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Please, Reid.” Gideon leans forward, and there’s an uncharacteristic vulnerability in his eyes. "If I'm going to be on this case, I need to know that she's safe. I won't be able to focus otherwise."

Spencer wasn’t going to lie—he genuinely thought it was a bad idea. But… Gideon said he trusted him. And this was his daughter—they might’ve argued, but they still cared about each other. if he could keep Lila Archer safe, he could keep you safe.

“…Okay,” he finally concedes. “Okay.”

Gideon nods, and he watches the change in his eyes, the slightest bit of tension leaving his shoulders. “Thank you.”

“Just… make sure there are two bedrooms,” Spencer says. “I don’t need her to kill me one day in.”

At that, he cracks a rare smile. Spencer is thankful for it, that he can bring even the smallest amount of levity to Gideon’s life right now.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Your dad says your name, but you hardly let him finish.

“No! First I find out I have a stalker, then my whole life’s going to be uprooted until you find them, and now I have to be stuck with boy genius?”

“You know, we’re about the same age—”

“Do you ever stop talking?” you cry, whirling on Spencer.

“I actually don’t talk that much when I’m around you,” Spencer says, his brows creasing. “This is the third time I’ve met you, and I’ve only said nine sentences across those meetings. Thirteen, if you count all of these too.”

You let out a strained laugh as you shake your head, trying to blink back tears. “This is fucking unbelievable. I know he’s practically your son, but this is just—”

“A safety precaution,” your dad interrupts. “Doctor Spencer Reid is another one of the BAU’s finest agents, and he is fully qualified to keep you safe.”

“He looks like a strong breeze could snap him in half.”

“This is not a joke,” your dad says sternly. “None of this is a joke. Your life is in danger—you have a stalker that has been watching your every move for at least a month, and we have no idea what their next move will be. Doctor Reid is more experienced than you in every facet of this, and I am entrusting him to your care. I respect him immensely, and you will do so as well.”

You don’t even look at Spencer, quiet rage simmering beneath the surface as you stare at your father.

“You really don’t get it,” you murmur. “Do you?”

“The only thing to get is that your life is in increasing danger with every moment you spend pushing against me,” your dad says, and he stands up. “Get your purse. Reid, get her duffle. We’re leaving.”

He leaves before you get the chance to do anything—you assume he’s finally tired of you.

You just shake your head and pick up your purse, and Spencer clears his throat as he reaches for your duffle bag. You wonder if it even has anything useful—Aaron Hotchner was the one who packed it.

“…So,” Spencer says. “I guess we’re gonna be roommates for a while.”

You huff in fully unveiled annoyance, and you push past him on your way out.

“Great,” he mutters to himself as he follows you. “So this is what Gideon’s trust earns me.”

It doesn’t take him too long to catch up to you, despite the unnecessary quick pace you’re taking. You bypass the elevator and head towards the stairwell, and Spencer catches the door before it’s able to slam on him.

He says your name, but you just shake your head.

“If we’re gonna be stuck together until this is over, I’d prefer silence.”

“I don’t really do silence,” Spencer says.

“I’m sure there’ll be plenty of books for you to read in whatever jail cell they throw me in.”

“It’s actually going to be a pretty nice safe house,” he starts, throwing his hand up against the wall to catch himself from running into it as he turns, because god you are moving fast, “Gideon picked it out himself.”

“Oh, then it’ll definitely be a jail cell,” you mock. “It’s not like he knows anything about me, so he’ll probably think that it’s perfect.”

Spencer frowns. “Cut him some slack. This is all just as hard on him as it is on you.”

You come to a sudden stop, whirling around to face him, and Spencer has to reel to the side to prevent himself from running into you. Had he not already been pressed up against the wall, he would have moved back further, what with the fire blazing in your eyes.

“I’m not going to cut him any slack,” you spit. “This is the most time I’ve gotten to spend with my dad in months, and it’s only because some creep is stalking me to get back at him. The only reason I’m in this at all is because of his job that he cares about more than me, and now he’s sticking me with the guy that he wishes was his kid. So no, Doctor Reid—I’m not going to cut him any slack.”

You’re already off on your way again before Spencer even has time to blink, and you’ve made it down the whole last flight by the time he pushes himself back up.

He takes the steps three at a time to catch up to you, and he once again barely manages to catch the door before it slams on him. He calls your name, finally managing to fall into step with you right before you reach Gideon. He, like a normal person, deigned to take the elevator.

“You haven’t started arguing already,” he says, passing a glance at Spencer, “have you?”

“What do you think?” you ask, your arms crossed.

“I think you’re giving him a hard time that you usually reserve for me,” he says. “Cut him some slack.”

Your jaw clenches. “I’ve been getting a lot of that lately. Save the profiling for my stalker, will you?”

“There’s plenty of profiling to go around,” Gideon says. “You two wait here—I need to confirm the safe house location before we head out.”

“Can we stop by my place before we go?” Spencer asks. “I need to pick up some things.”

“You have a go bag, don’t you?”

“Yeah, but I— I wasn’t exactly prepared for this sort of thing when I came in today.”

“You’ll be fine,” Gideon says. He walks off before Spencer can protest, and he sighs.

You lean against the wall, your arms crossed with your purse hanging off your shoulder, and for once you don’t pass judgment on his—admittedly small—plight.

“I changed my mind,” Spencer speaks up, deciding to try and break the remarkably high amount of tension that had built up in such a short time, and your eyebrows rise as you glance at him.

“About what?”

“I— I think I can do silence,” he says. “Temporarily.”

You huff a laugh. “Really?”

“I don’t really want to annoy you while we’re stuck together in an undisclosed location,” he says. “I don’t know what you’re capable of.”

And for the first time since Spencer has met you, you actually smile. It’s the smallest thing, just a slight tilt of your lips that’s more akin to Hotch’s moments of levity than anything, but it’s a smile.

“...Good choice,” you say. It feels like a joke, but Spencer isn’t sure.

He smiles anyway. You meet his eyes, and for a moment, you’re just another girl. Someone that Spencer could imagine himself stealing glances at in a lecture hall, a regular at his favorite coffee shop that he falls for over the course of an especially cold winter, someone he meets on a night out with the team that he ends up talking to all night.

You really do have pretty eyes.

And then your gaze hardens, darts away from him, and Spencer sees Gideon coming back in his peripherals. The moment fractures.

You’re not just a girl. You’re Gideon’s daughter, you’re in a remarkable amount of danger, and lest he forget, you do in fact hate him.

Spencer lets out another short sigh.

At least this safe house won’t have a pool.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid angst #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds angst #x reader #sadie writes

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pathologicalreid · 11 months

Text

newly creds | S.R.

in which the BAU team wants to see your newly issued credentials

who? spencer reid x fem!BAU!reader

category: fluff

content warnings: marriage. changing your name. slightly suggestive at the end but nothing explicit.

word count: 498

a/n: first and foremost, thank you so much for 100 followers AND for almost 3k likes i am so astounded by this im just so grateful. i absolutely wrote this while i was supposed to be doing privacy law homework. very proud of the title too. also today is my birthday so legally you have to like and reblog this!!! please enjoy <3

“So, let’s see it,” Derek prodded as he leaned over your desk, obviously searching the surface of it for something.

You peered up at him, “Can I help you?”

Before he could properly answer you, Emily entered the bullpen. Her eyes found you and she hastily piled her things on her desk before joining Morgan next to yours. “Do you have it?” She asked, dark hair shining as she inspected your desk.

Obviously, you had missed some sort of memo about whatever ‘it’ is. “I have uh, half of a bagel?” You offered helplessly, gesturing to your unfinished breakfast that was waiting patiently for you on top of a napkin.

“Y/N!” Penelope called your name from the glass doors she was rushing through, “Did I miss it? I want to see!”

Spencer rounded the corner of your desk, slowly placing a mug of fresh coffee on your desk, next to your abandoned bagel. “What’s going on?” He asked, carefully bringing his cup of coffee to his mouth to take a sip.

You shrugged, “They all want to see something but won’t tell me what ‘it’ is.” You grumbled, holding out your left hand, “Is this it?” The whole team had seen your ring already, Emily, Penelope, and JJ had even helped Spencer pick it out. You wondered if maybe they all wanted to see the engagement ring with your wedding band.

“Y/N,” another voice called, you resisted the urge to bury your face in your hands as you turned to face JJ. “Did you get the envelope that was on your desk? It got delivered to me by mistake, but I kept it safe while you two were honeymooning.”

Your lips parted, “Oh!” Quickly, you realized what everyone was pestering you about. You and Spencer had just gotten back from your weeklong honeymoon. The both of you got to work first, just to find a package on your desk. Rolling your chair back slightly, you rolled your eyes, “You know, you all could’ve just said something.”

You reached into your desk drawer and pulled out your credentials before unclipping your badge from your belt loop. Handing your creds to Derek and your badge to Garcia, who squealed in excitement, you couldn’t help but smile at Spencer. “SSA Y/N Reid,” Derek said, sounding like a proud parent.

Spencer placed a hand on your shoulder, and you beamed, “I wasn’t expecting them so quickly, I don’t even have my new driver’s license yet.”

“Does this mean you’re both going to answer to Reid now?” Emily asked, smiling at the prospect of confusion.

Shaking your head, you took your badge back, “Not unless it’s a prank. Hotch actually specifically asked us not to do that.”

“Welcome back,” Rossi said, walking into the bullpen and passing your desk. “I sure hope the two of you had the same kind of fun I did on my third honeymoon,” he teased, winking as he continued up to his office.

Spencer choked on his coffee.

#spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #emily prentiss #penelope garcia #jennifer jareau #david rossi #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid fluff #written by margot

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januaryembrs · 4 months

Note

oblivious!reader x downbad!spencer who’s not even nervous to flirt with reader anymore cuz she just doesn’t get it (probs older episodes spence)

CLUELESS | Spencer Reid x reader

description: Spencer's got a crush, too bad you're entirely clueless to his dilemma. (S3!Spencer in mind)

length 1.2k

At first he’d thought it was the world’s gentlest form of rejection, how you would dodge his questions, barely bat an eye at him laying himself bare for you, thought that maybe you were pretending not to see the way his hands shook and voice quivered to save him some face.

“I-I was wondering if you wanted to go see Zodiac at the movie theatre?” He stammered, obsessively tucking his hair behind his ear because it felt like it was ticking his cheeks, or perhaps that was just some residual sweat gathering on his temple because you were just so pretty when you looked at him like that, your eyes wide and excited, waiting for him to finish speaking because you always loved to listen to him, “I was thinking we could try comparing it to the actual case and figure out how accurate their hollywood version of it is,”

Your face lit up like the fourth of July, and your smile was blinding, “Oh, I love the movies! It’s going to be so fun, Spence!” You chirped, whirling around in your desk chair to meet Emily’s bored stiff expression as she scrolled through her computer, “Em, Spencer wants us to go see Zodiac, you in?”

Spencer paled, because that was not what he’d meant by we whatsoever. It wasn’t that he held anything against Emily, nor JJ or Penelope as they were quickly roped into the plans as well, he just hadn't had them in mind when he thought to ask you out on a date. From what he could tell you hadn’t escaped spending time with him alone on purpose. He just hadn’t quite been specific in his question, it was an easy mistake to make.

But you looked so excited as you organised who was getting what snacks, quickly dibsing the seat slap bang in the middle of everyone so you wouldn’t feel like anyone got left out. He thought his chest stuttered when you grabbed his hand and asked if you could sit with him since he’d remember the most about the original case, and you’d need his big brain for the little game he had planned.

Spencer agreed, instead of trying to make it clear what he’d meant by his original question, because he hated disappointing people and the other girls seemed just as thrilled to go see the movie as you were. It wasn’t until Morgan slapped him on the back with a chuckle, having watched the whole thing from his own desk that Spencer felt truly dumb.

“You’re going to have to try better than that, pretty boy,” He exclaimed, and Spencer bit his lip in thought, “Try asking her to do something in a way that leaves no room for confusion, girls like it when you’re direct,”

And he nodded vehemently, because dating advice from Morgan was usually sound and bulletproof, how else would would he have garnered the ladies man reputation?

Direct, he could be direct. Sure, Spencer could be direct.

He swallowed heavily just thinking about it.

–

“These are for you,” Spencer jumped in before you could get sidetracked by chatting his ear off about the squirrel you’d nearly ran over on your way to work, and your expression flitted into surprise.

He handed you the big bunch of pink roses and baby’s breath, and your mouth cracked into a smile immediately. “Oh, Spencer, these are beautiful, you shouldn’t have. My birthday’s not for another week,”

“And I booked us a table at that Thai place on your block that you always get- wait birthday?” Spencer stumbled over his script, the words he’d been practising all morning coming to an effective halt as he realised once again his intentions had flown right over your head. And yet before he could set his record straight, just like you had last time, you’d jumped at the chance of spending time with him without understand just what you were agreeing to.

“I love Thai food, that’s so thoughtful of you, Spence,” You said, hopping up out of your chair to give him a bear hug around his lithe waist, the flowers still tightly in the palm of your hand. He reciprocated, even if his expression was a terrible mix of frustration and confusion.

It was like someone had cast some sort of spell over his words so that he’d never be able to ask you out on a date, like he was trying to speak in a dream, the words never really coming out. You weren’t dumb, not by any means, you could be a little naive sometimes, but never cruel. Spencer had no idea what the answer was. He guessed he was right back at square one.

–

“I don’t know man, I tried asking her to the movies, she thought it was a group thing. I tried taking her out for dinner, she thought it was for her birthday, I even asked if she wanted to come over to mine and she thought I meant a sleepover. What’s romantic about pillow forts?” Spencer sighed, leaning his head into his palm as he watched you swan around the office without a single inkling of his affections, “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I had fun at every one of them, but I just want there to be more. Maybe she just doesn’t feel the same,”

“Don’t lose hope, pretty boy,” Derek comforted, the seemingly appointed love Guru that had had to witness two weeks of Spencer’s advances get sidelined. He followed Reid’s gaze to where you hummed a song to yourself as you collected files from Emily’s desk to take them over to your own. He bit his lip in thought, “I don’t think it’s personal, honest, I don’t think she means anything by it. You just need to be clearer,”

“Clearer?” Spencer said with raised brows, using a single prod of his converse to swivel himself around to face you, and your expression perked into a smile just from seeing him. Derek watched the two of you closely, his theory all but game set and match as you seemed genuinely excited to see their resident genius who was convinced there was nothing there, “That shirt is really cute on you. It makes your eyes look really pretty,” Spencer said, in his most direct tone possible, because the nervousness seemed to dissipate when he knew you wouldn’t pick up on his intentions. The only sign you’d heard him at all was the way your fingers ruffled his hair affectionately.

“Aw, thank you, Spencer,” You said, a little bounce in your step as you passed his desk to your own, running a gentle hand over his arm, where his blue striped shirt bunched around his biceps, “I like your purple one the best, but this one’s quite handsome too,” You replied, grabbing the other wad of papers from your drawer without much of a reaction and heading up the stairs to Hotch’s office, and he turned back to Morgan, throwing his hands up in exasperation.

Morgan laughed, shaking his head and yanking his cup of coffee towards him, “She’ll figure it out some day, lover boy. I give it a month, tops,”

And Spencer huffed, wheeling himself back to his desk, his eyes naturally trailing up to the large window that divided them from Hotch’s personal space, the two of you discussing something jovially as if you were none the wiser to his internal predicament.

He made a note to wear his purple shirt more often.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #matthew gray gubler x reader

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ssahotchnerr · 3 months

Note

hi my love!! how are you?🩷

i saw your requests are open and i wanted to ask for more jealous!aaron if you’re up for it! maybe one of the girls (probably jj or penelope) set up reader on a date and they are talking about it on the jet ride home from a case. she’s not too sure about it but wants to give it a chance…rossi and derek are hyping her up too maybe! and our man aaron is just watching thinking he’s lost his chance but little does he know she’s only going to try and get him out of her mind.

wishful thinking

these kinda plots >>> 💓 cw; bau!reader, sooo much mutual pining (they're both idiots), a touch of jealous!aaron, slight angst wc; 1k

part two

You weren't being too subtle.

As the others were settling down, getting situated for the ride home, your priorities laid elsewhere; admiring Aaron and the handsome, beautiful, handsome features he possessed.

The way his cowlicks were tousled gently over his forehead, just begging to swept back. His chiseled jawline, one your hand yearned to span across. His enviously long eyelashes. His lips-

Penelope suddenly sitting next to you pulled you from your trance, causing you to jump. It had been one of those rare instances she was needed in the field, offering her specialities on sight rather than stationed back in Quantico.

The expression she bared was rather eager, complete with a pair of googly eyes.

You laughed shakily, a faint blush creeping onto your cheeks - hoping your longing stare hadn't actually gone noticed, "May I help you?"

"So," Her grin widened, "are you excited!?"

You grimaced slightly as your mood instantly deflated. You uneasily crossed a leg over the other, "I don't know."

"Excited for what?" Morgan inputted from above; headphones in hand, twirling the headband in a circle around his index finger.

You offered a sigh in response, so Penelope took the initiative to answer for you.

"You know James Cameron? From Homeland Security?"

"Yeah, what about him?"

"He's expressed quite the interest in our fellow crime fighter." Penelope's excited grin turned back towards yourself, also nudging you with an elbow. "And so I've honorably claimed the role of Cupid and someone," More wistful eyes pointed at you, "has a date Saturday night."

"He's a catch." JJ expressed enthusiastically, dramatizing a swoon as she sat across from the two of you. "Tall, dark, handsome."

"I can vouch I've heard nothing but good things about him." Morgan teasingly ruffled the hair on the top of your head, "Way to go kid."

You offered a meek smile, squirming ever so slightly in your seat. It took everything in you to not let your gaze drift back elsewhere. "Thanks but... I'm not so sure I want to go."

"What's not to be sure about? He's smokin', successful. It'll be good for you, too. When's the last time you put yourself out there?" JJ pointed out, arching an eyebrow in emphasis.

You shrugged, your chin landing in your palm.

Clearly you couldn't go into the specifics; the truth being you had your eyes on someone else. A particular boss you all shared, sitting just a few feet away.

The whole dating scene, you've been hesitant due to said feelings. The only reason you had truly considered going out - was to get Aaron out of your mind. You've spent countless, sleepless nights thinking about him, picking apart every little interaction; the way he looked at you after you had a breakthrough at a profile, admirable enough to make you want to burst at the seams. Walking alongside him, hands centimeters apart, softly grazing his skin. The concern he showed following an unfortunate brawl with an unsub - he had almost reached out to cradle your face. But, all of which could have been entirely figments of your imagination. Wishful thinking.

But regardless, they had given you the slightest amount of hope. Which is why you waited, but you couldn't do so forever; the probability of you and him - highly unlikely.

You had two choices; to continue holding out for the impossible, or to pursue the realistic.

You peered over at Aaron, consumed entirely by the file in his lap. It didn't appear he was paying attention, and that stung. All things considered.

The truth is, he was, and disliking every single bit of it. While it looked as if he were working, he was merely scribbling on a scrap piece of paper, enough to wear it down and produce a hole; silently brooding and anxiously waiting to hear where the conversation went. The more it carried on, however, the more jealousy burned in the middle of his chest. The two of you were close, you understood him like no one else, but that itself was the issue.

He feared if you got too close, if you really, really knew him, he would damage you somehow. Or worse, you'd end up similarly to Haley - unsatisfied and yearning to leave him behind. And so, he had refrained from being proactive.

In addition, right now, part of him didn't know what hurt more; the fact you were going on a date with someone who wasn't him, or the fact that you hadn't mentioned it.

"I say go for it." Dave offered, "Trust me. I am an expert, after all."

Emily bust out laughing, "Okay."

"What do you think?" You asked over their laughter, your voice detrimentally small. "Hotch?"

Aaron's head lifted, his eyes immediately latching onto yours. It kept circling in his head; You missed your chance. You're missing your chance.

Despite the ongoing internal conflict, one he could resolve in a few simple words, he panicked.

"I don't see a reason not to." He rushed out, your heart plummeting into your stomach at his words. "Of course, don't do anything you're not comfortable with. But there's no harm in seeing if there's a connection."

Even as he spoke, he didn't sound like himself - as if someone else were doing the talking. Extremely feigned, forced. Speaking from his mind rather than his heart.

"Okay," You bit your lip, looking directly at him as you spoke. "I will."

As the others switched topics, your eyes stayed with Aaron's. A silent exchange drifted between the two of you, Spencer's current tangent seemingly miles away. Hurt, betrayal, a touch of something else too.

You exhaled deeply, turning to look out your window.

Whatever it was, it didn't matter now. Did it?

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x you #criminal minds drabble #aaron hotchner drabble #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfiction #hotch imagine #criminal minds x fem!reader

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ithebookhoarder · 4 months

Note

Hello hi ! 🤗

Can you do a "bau reacts" when they are undercover in public and about to be found out so the reader just starts making out with them to pretend they are just a couple?

(BAU Headcanons) Making out Undercover

A/N: Mwahaha. Oh, this is a good prompt. Thanks for making me daydream all afternoon. Enjoy my lovelies 😉 Also, as a note, I'm writing the main BAU where I'm at watching it (season 13) plus Luke as he was requested previously 💕

Warnings: Mentions of threat, mentions of weapons, alcohol references, sexual references, implied cases / unsubs. (Let me know if I missed any)

Aaron Hotchner

We know Aaron doesn’t go undercover for most cases, so this would have to be a big case to get him into the field.

This man would be in shock. Let’s be real. He would freeze in place and try to argue for a split second until he realises what you’re trying to do and why - even if you were already together.

As soon as they’re gone though, you’d glance up and see his usual steely glare that tells you you’re in for a scolding once this is over.

However, you’d have to be blind to miss the way he lingers for a moment, holding you close for half a second longer than necessary.

“I feel I should remind you that we are in the field, and whilst it may have worked, I can’t endorse it as a tactic in future. Understood?”

“So I’m hearing that we’re leaving this off of our case report then?”

“Agreed. I don’t need to give Strauss anything else to use to go after us and the team.”

He would roll his eyes and take off after the Unsub, but you’d have to be blind to miss the way he smirks as he goes.

David Rossi

He’d be a little embarrassed but mostly quite smug about the whole thing, even if you were supposed to be undercover.

“Well, I can safely say in all my years in this field I don’t think that’s ever happened to me before.”

He’d also refuse to let you apologise for your actions afterwards either.

One, because he’s kind of flattered.

Two, because he’s been around the block a few times and knows that sometimes you have to do what it takes to solve a case or protect yourselves.

Three, you were supposed to be a couple and kissing is what couples do. He’s only sour because if anything he would have liked to be the one who kissed you.

“Relax about it, would you? I won’t tell you some of the things Gideon and I had to do back in the old days. That was before all this new paperwork and guidelines, so that’s all I’ll say on the matter.”

You make a point of remembering to ask him about that at your next night off over drinks.

Derek Morgan

Derek is always up for anything so I feel like he’d be pretty relaxed about being undercover with you, even if you weren't together romantically. He has no issue playing your pretend boyfriend for one night, and is quick to wrap his arm around you.

Which is why it would be such a surprise to him when it’s you who initiated the kiss.

Derek would freeze for like a second, but only out of shock. However, you know he wouldn’t fight you on it.

The second his brain catches up to his body he would be kissing you back, doing everything in his power to match your energy and sell this kiss.

If anything, you’re going to have to be the one to break away once the coast is clear and remind him you’re still technically in the field and that your team is probably wondering where the hell you are right now - and why you stopped responding to your comms.

“I’m just saying, if we get to do that then we need to be partnered up more often.”

“Yeah yeah, Morgan. Let’s just hope Penelope didn’t see that else we’ll never be hearing the end of it.”

Emily Prentiss

She’s been undercover plenty of times in her life and spent a whole chunk of time actually fake-married to Doyle for an op, so she’d be the most comfortable and understanding if you grabbed her for a kiss - especially if you were meant to be a fake couple.

She’d work it out pretty quickly and would respond in kind, pressing herself against you and running her hands all over you.

“Quick thinking with the kiss,” she’d whisper as she brushed a kiss against your neck.

She’d also know exactly where the Unsub is afterwards too, having kept watch in her peripheral vision.

She wouldn’t even have to break eye contact with you before she informed you, “3 o’clock. He just left out the fire exit.”

With that, she’d be off.

She also probably wouldn’t even bring it up again until you’re both back on the jet. Then she’d be smirking at you across the top of her drink and chuckling to herself.

“Normally I’d insist dinner first but given that we caught that bastard I think we’re even.”

JJ knows about going undercover and it takes a lot to rattle her. She would probably go along with the action, even if she’d stay kind of stiff for a good minute or so.

However, she’s a good agent and knows about maintaining a cover so quickly catches on when you pull her in.

She’d return the kiss, shooting glances out the corner of her eye when she thinks it might be safe to check on their target. If it doesn’t look like they’re buying it, she’ll turn things up a notch and spin you around so that she could take control.

“My gun is under my jacket. Reach for it slowly if he comes any closer,” she’d warn, but thankfully you don’t need it. Eventually they leave, distracted by something else, leaving you and JJ to recover.

After catching your breath, you both take off in the direction your target just left in. You can tell JJ is trying not to laugh about what just happened, choosing to make it funny rather than uncomfortable if you weren't together romantically.

Which means you know she’d enjoy teasing you about it in front of the others, making your cheeks burn as she announces on the jet: “For the record, even though it was a ‘cover kiss’ it was pretty good. Just saying. Maybe you should give Morgan some tips. That way he might get a girl to call him back after a first date.”

Luke Alvez

It doesn’t matter if he’s ex-army or whatever. Undercover is not really Luke’s thing and even then, he is more used to infiltrating gangs than playing house.

Basically, he would be surprised by your actions, despite being undercover together. Like, I can see his eyebrows hitting his hairline so fast, bless him. He’d look like a deer in headlights.

“Woah, sweetheart, slow your roll-“

“- Luke. Shut up and kiss me. Now.”

“I - ok.”

Just like that, he’d take control, turning and pressing you against the nearest wall in an attempt to shield you from whoever was watching. He’d also be such a gentleman about it if you weren't already together romantically, keeping his hands on your waist and pulling away the minute he’s sure the danger has passed.

Even then, he’d wait a minute before letting the two of you move from your position, just in case they come back. He’s your partner and he’s returning the favour for you keeping him safe, even if in an unsuspected manner.

“You good?”

“Luke. Shouldn’t I be asking you that? I was the one who planted myself on you.”

“Potato, po-tah-to. Are they still over there?”

“No. They just left out the back.”

“Then let’s go, partner. Let’s catch this freak.”

Penelope Garcia

If Penelope is in the field then you know she is already hella nervous and out of her element. It doesn’t matter if there was a reason she was needed for this particular assignment, she would just take that as added pressure not to let everyone down.

Which is why I’m sure you’d feel worse about planting one on her - even if it does also help distract her from worrying for a minute.

All I can imagine is her giving her trademark squeal of confusion and surprise, even if you gave her a hasty warning - and apology - about what you were going to do.

She’d be stunned at what was happening and probably takes a minute to realise she should probably try and kiss you back, or at least look less visibly startled about it.

“I feel I should point out how unfair it is that this is permitted as ‘suitable workplace behaviour’ as we’re undercover, yet my flirtatious texts with Agent Morgan are not? I will be writing a strongly worded email when we get back, telling HR they can go shove their-”

“Pen? Hey, focus here. Unsub still watching us.”

“Oh, right. Sorry! Ahem… as you were?”

Also, you know that like a day or so later, once it’s all over, she sends you an email informing you that your new username on the BAU system is now ‘smoochykins’ and she will not change it until it becomes not-funny for her… which will probably be never. After all, Morgan has been ‘Chocolate Thunder’ for the last two years and is still going strong.

Dr Spencer Reid

Spencer has been undercover before and is usually quite calm about it, even if it is faking a date or maintaining a story. Still, despite having to do your jobs, you’d hate to make him uncomfortable, knowing how he feels about any kind of physical contact - especially if you're not together.

As he says, with the amount of bacteria shared by shaking hands you’d be safer kissing … guess it was time to take it literally.

He’d be blushing like a tomato as you grab his jacket lapels and pull him close. And honestly? it’s kind of adorable. As is the way he tries to kiss you back, even if he still takes a minute to remember how to even move his body.

I’m just picturing the Lila kiss in season one and how he eased into that and how stunned / embarrassed he seemed afterwards. He would pretty much be like that, but with a fake smile on his face as he rambled in your ear.

“What was that?”

“I was covering our asses. We’re undercover, remember? We’re supposed to be a couple and couples kiss. Also, I’d thought you know, genius, that kissing and displays of public affection make people extremely uncomfortable.”

“No kidding… Morgan can never find out about this.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice. You got a deal, pretty boy. This is between us.”

Masterlist

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incognit0slut · 4 months

Text

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4

Behind Closed Doors 2

You welcome Spencer back to the team with a special gesture of your own—and find yourself falling even harder for him after he opens up to you.

Warnings: (18+ MDNI) sub older spence my beloved, handjob, oral (m), spit kink?, semi-public (they are FREAKY), and idk if we can call this angst but we get to know how he feels about returning to work ~3.9k words

A/n: I didn’t plan for a part two, but rewriting scenes with specific looks of him is growing on me. Also, this happens before Emily tells him to teach seminars on his leave. And tell me what you think!!

He looked good in pink.

That was an understatement, the man looked good in pretty much anything. But today? Something was different. Something looked different. His whole appearance seemed to be on point than usual. You noticed his typically tousled hair was styled and swept back, which was a very rare sight, and it was hard for you to look away.

“…as you have obviously heard, Dr. Spencer Reid has been fully reinstated,” Emily announced, snapping you back to reality. “Welcome back, Spence.”

“Whoo-hoo! Yes!” Penelope cheered, only to be met by Emily’s pointed look. “That’s not the end, is it?”

Your boss shook your head and then proceeded to continue with another announcement. You stole a glance towards him again.

Maybe it was just really his shirt that made him look good? It wasn't even overly tight, but snug enough to accentuate the lines of his broad shoulders. Has his shoulders always been that wide? Now that you think about it, he did seem to be putting on a little weight. Not that it was a bad thing, and not that you didn't like how he looked before, but you couldn't help noticing how he filled out his shirt, and for some reason, it was doing something to you.

Probably more than something because now you wondered what other places he filled out.

A sudden round of applause filled the room, and you joined in, tearing your gaze away from him only to find Matt Simmons grinning at you. You looked away and followed everyone as they shuffled around the room, making sure to sit as far away from Spencer as possible, although luck wasn't on your side when Matt settled into the seat beside you.

"You don't seem too thrilled about me joining the team," he murmured, leaning in close.

“What do you mean? I’m always open to new faces around here.”

“Not as excited as having an old member back, though,” Matt remarked, prompting you to snap your head at him, a slight frown forming on your face. He winked teasingly, and you groaned, shoving his shoulder away.

“Ugh, do not wink at me.”

His laughter filled the air, but it quickly faded as the atmosphere in the room turned serious. Penelope began briefing everyone on the new case, and you did your best to mask your grimace every time a gruesome picture flashed on the screen. By the time Emily called out, “Wheels up in thirty,” you rose from your seat.

To talk to him or not talk to him?

You weighed the pros and cons, sneaking a quick glance at Spencer, who was deeply absorbed in studying the case files. The logical part of your brain told you it wasn't the best time to strike up a conversation, especially with only thirty minutes left until you had to leave. But there was something about him, it felt almost instinctual, like you were naturally drawn to him, and like a magnetic force, you couldn't resist.

Oh, fuck it—you decided to approach him.

Taking a deep breath to steel yourself, you made your way over to where he was sitting, trying to ignore the flutter of nerves in your stomach.

"Hi.”

"Hey," he greeted, looking up with a small smile at the corners of his lips. "What's up?"

“Can I talk to you for a moment?”

"Sure," Spencer replied, his expression curious yet amused. He set aside the files he had been studying and turned his attention fully to you.

“In private?”

There was a brief pause, and you swore you could practically cut the tension with a knife. Then, with a deliberate slowness, he rose from his seat, his gaze never wavering from yours. You tilted your head back to look at him as his presence seemed to fill the room,and you couldn't help but hold your breath as you waited for his response.

“Of course,” he finally agreed, his eyes lingering on yours for a moment longer before he turned, leading the way to a more secluded spot, past the bullpen, past the glass doors, and down the hallway.

Once you were both out of earshot, he leaned in. “How private are we talking about?”

You nudged his side before guiding him towards the nearest office. As you stepped inside, your heart pounded in your chest, and you quickly glanced around the room to make sure it was empty. When you confirmed it was unoccupied, you turned back to see Spencer closing the door behind him.

Then everything snapped.

You weren't sure who made the first move, whether it was you or both of you acting on instinct, but before you could process it, his lips were on yours, his arms pulling you close, tongue colliding with your own. You gasped at his eagerness and wrapped your arms around his neck, bringing him closer to you as you pressed yourself against him.

With a boldness you didn’t know you possessed, you pushed him against the nearest wall, your hands tangling in his hair as his hands found their way to your ass, squeezing lightly. A soft moan escaped your lips and he responded by deepening the kiss further. It felt like time stood still as you lost yourself in the heat of his mouth against yours, until you finally pulled back, your lips brushing against his jaw.

“What…” He gasped when your mouth trailed lower. “What’s gotten into you?”

“I don’t know,” you groaned into his neck, his scent filling your senses. Why did he have to smell so good? “I think it’s your hair.”

“My… hair?”

You pulled back slightly, your fingers tracing along the collar of his shirt, your eyes roaming over the exposed skin of his chest where the top buttons were left undone. “Or maybe it’s the shirt.”

“My shirt?”

“Yes!” You half-exclaimed, half-whispered, trying to keep your voice down. “I think I’m ovulating and you’re not helping.”

Spencer's eyes widened in surprise, a flush creeping up his neck as he processed your words. "Oh," he managed to say. “I didn't expect that.”

"Sorry," you apologized, feeling your cheeks warm with embarrassment. “I didn’t mean to—”

But before you could say anything else, his expression softened, and his grip on your hips tightened. "Hey, it's okay," he reassured you. “It’s common for women to experience changes in their hormones during ovulation. It's completely natural and nothing to be embarrassed about."

You looked up at him, your hands sliding down his chest. “Yeah?”

He nodded. “Yes, it’s just your body doing its thing,” he said reassuringly. "And honestly, it's kind of flattering to know that... I have that effect on you."

A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips as your palms drifted lower. “What else do you know about this stuff?”

“Well, around the time of ovulation, a woman's body produces more estrogen, which can increase libido—”

His breath hitched when his eyes fell on your hand resting over his pants.

“What?” you prompted, a playful glint in your eye. “Why did you stop?”

Spencer's cheeks flushed slightly as he met your gaze. "I, uh…” He cleared his throat. “I was just going to mention that… increased estrogen levels during ovulation can also lead to heightened sensitivity in erogenous zones—”

But his words trailed off into a sigh as you palmed his arousal over his pants, feeling the hardness beneath your touch. He was undeniably aroused, and the way he responded to your touch only fueled you even more. With a mischievous grin, you ran your palm up and down his length, feeling him throb in response before letting out a playful giggle.

You didn’t realize it would be this fun to be the one doing the teasing.

“Tell me more, Spence.”

He swallowed hard before managing to speak. "W-Well,” he stammered. "Increased estrogen levels can also... enhance blood flow to certain areas, leading to heightened sensitivity and... uh, increased pleasure—”

But before he could finish his sentence, you applied a little more pressure, causing him to let out a low groan of pleasure. His words faltered, his focus shifting entirely to the delicious sensation of your hand stroking him. Your eyes traveled down, watching the way his cock pressed against the fabric of his pants, noting how thick and hard he was.

But as your gaze lingered, you caught sight of the time on your watch, and reality came crashing back in. You reluctantly pulled your hand away from him, and Spencer blinked at your sudden withdrawal, his desire-clouded mind trying to focus on you.

“What's wrong?” He whispered. “Why did you stop?”

“I… I kind of got carried away, I’m sorry," you noted. "We should probably get back before they start to wonder where we are."

He went still, and so did you. The room’s air conditioner hummed softly, filling the silence as you both simply stared at each other. When he didn’t respond, you slowly backed away and moved toward the door, but his grip on your arm stopped you. You turned towards him, eyebrows raised while he seemed to hesitate to say the next words.

After a moment, he sighed, his gaze softening as he finally found the words he was looking for.

“The other day, after we… you know,” he emphasized, and you nodded, urging him to continue. “I had to deal with this myself.”

His eyes flicked over the bulge in his pants and you stifled a laugh, amused at his sudden fluster. “Yeah, you said you were going to ignore it.”

“I didn’t,” he replied. “I couldn’t.”

“And?”

“And…” he hesitated, his gaze flickering away for a moment before meeting yours again.

There was a moment of silence until you realized what he was implying. You gasped, the hand he wasn’t holding covering your mouth in shock. “Here?” you asked in disbelief. “At work?”

His cheeks flushed, but he nodded sheepishly. “Yeah,” he admitted. “In the bathroom.”

“Spencer,” you exclaimed in a hushed tone, “That’s...”

“I know, I know,” he cut in, his tone self-deprecating. “But in my defense, it was all your fault.”

You giggled. “Me? I barely touched you!”

"Exactly, but it was enough to drive me crazy,” he said, and when he saw you laughing, he gave you a deadpanned look. “It’s not funny.”

“Oh come on, it kind of is.” You shook your head in amusement. “Why are you telling me this?”

He hesitated for a moment, his eyes searching yours. “Because I don’t want to leave this room and deal with it by myself again.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “Is this your way of asking me to touch you?”

His eyes widened almost cartoonishly wide, the flush creeping up his cheeks contrasting against the paleness of his skin, making his reaction all the more apparent.

“Please?”

You couldn’t suppress the grin that tugged at your lips. “Spencer, we only have…” You glanced over your watch. “Fifteen minutes left.”

“I can probably finish in five.”

You bit your bottom lip. How did you end up in this predicament all over again? Although this time, you felt like you had the upper hand, and somehow, it was strangely exciting to see him so affected, to have him practically begging for your touch when you were supposed to be in a hurry.

He looked at you expectantly. How could you say no when his eyes were wide and pleading?

“You know what?” You turned to him fully, taking a step forward. “I think you deserve it. It’s your first day back, after all.”

Before you could second guess yourself, you reached for him again. His breath hitched slightly as you undid his belt and slowly lowered the zipper of his pants. His arousal strained against the fabric and you briefly met his gaze. Without a word, you slid your hand inside his pants, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips.

He felt full in your hand and painfully hard. When his response was nothing but his ragged breathing, you reached for the waistband of his briefs with your other hand, pulling down slightly until his cock was freed from its confines.

“Spence, you’re so…” Your voice trailed off, eyes fixated on him. The tip was thick and bulbous, a deeper shade than the shaft where pulsing veins ran up the long length. You were mesmerized by his size; it wasn’t too big nor too small, just perfect.

“You’re so pretty.”

His eyes fluttered closed for a moment before he looked back at you. “You think so?”

You nodded, feeling the heat and the weight of him in your grasp. A droplet of wetness glistened on the tip, and unable to resist, your thumb brushed along it, earning a sharp intake of breath from him as his hips instinctively bucked against your touch. With a newfound confidence, you wrapped your hand around him, feeling his hardness pulsating against your palm.

The skin was soft as you’d expected, warm to the touch, but his length was stiff and throbbing when you squeezed. If you stayed still, you were sure you could count his heartbeat. As your hand moved up and down tentatively, trying to take in every detail of his member, you couldn’t believe you were finally feeling each vein that bulged up his shaft.

“Do you mind if I spit on it?”

He let out a low groan, his head falling back against the wall. “No.”

“Really? Coming from someone who’s germaphobic?” You smiled amusedly. "I thought you'd be more concerned about hygiene."

"I'll make an exception for this."

You couldn't help but laugh at his response. Trusting your instincts, you craned your neck down and let the liquid spill from your mouth, coating his tip in a steady flow. Your saliva glistened in the light, slowly trickling down the length of his cock. Then you began to stroke him gently, you felt him respond eagerly, his breaths growing heavier and his hips rocking gently against your hand.

His head fell back against the wall, his breath coming in ragged gasps. “God, that feels…”

Feeling a surge of pride at his reaction, you couldn’t resist teasing him further. “Is this how you touched yourself in the bathroom?”

He swallowed hard, his breath hitching as he met your gaze.

“Were you thinking of me?” You pressed on. “Did you imagine me touching you like this?”

His response was barely a whisper, but you caught it. “Yes…”

His breath was warm against your face, and you looked up, taking in the way he was looking at you through half-lidded eyes, lips parted as soft moans slipped out of his mouth. Who would’ve thought he made the prettiest sounds? You knew he was trying to keep his voice down, but the sight of him struggling to suppress his pleasure only made it more thrilling.

“Or did you imagine me getting on my knees, taking you in my mouth?” you teased, your voice low and sultry as you traced your tongue along your bottom lip. “Did you picture yourself deep inside of me, how tight and wet I would be?”

His forehead dipped until it was resting against yours, breaking the self-control he was desperately trying to maintain. “Oh god—I-I can’t hold it any longer.”

Your response was simply to increase your speed, your fist moving in fast short strokes up his leaking cock. He was slick with arousal, and you focused your attention on the sensitive tip, prompting even louder sounds of pleasure from him.

“Wait—" he gripped your wrist, forcing you to stop. “I’m so close.”

You frowned, watching the conflict play out in his expression. "I thought you wanted this?"

“I know, it’s just—“ His brows furrowed, a hint of desperation in his eyes as he struggled to maintain control. Then, with a defeated sigh, he admitted, “I don’t want to make a mess.”

You scanned the room, your mind racing for a solution. The office offered no privacy, and there was nothing around to help clean up the mess he would definitely make, so you needed a different approach.

Without hesitation, you got down on your knees.

“What are you doing?”

“What do you think I’m doing?”

“You’re gonna—” he gulped, his Adam's apple bobbing nervously. “I can’t let you do that.”

“Shh,” you hushed, lightly hitting his thigh. “Just help me hold my hair up.”

He hesitated for a moment, but the desire in his eyes was undeniable. Slowly, he reached out, gathering your hair in his hands. You felt the warmth of his fingers against your scalp, his touch gentle yet firm. You leaned in, your mouth hovering just inches from his swollen tip as you glanced up, meeting his eyes one last time before you took him into your mouth.

The taste of him was intoxicating, and you could feel every twitch and throb as you wrapped your lips around him. His grip on your hair tightened, a guttural moan escaping his lips, your tongue swirling around his tip, tasting the salty bead of arousal that had formed there. His hips bucked involuntarily, and you took him deeper, jaw stretching wide as you struggled to get every inch of him inside your mouth while wrapping your hand around what was left.

You moved slowly at first, getting used to the feel of him in your mouth. It didn’t take long until your mouth was working in tandem with your hand, creating a rhythm that had his body shaking. The room was quickly filled with the sounds of his ragged breathing and soft moans, and you couldn’t believe this was actually happening. There you were, hiding behind an empty office with the potential of getting caught.

But you didn’t care, nor did Spencer, as he held your hair and bucked his hips into your mouth. You could feel the tension building in him, his breaths coming in short, desperate gasps. He was so, so close, and you wanted to push him over the edge. You quickened your pace, your mouth moving up and down his length, hollowing your cheeks to create a tighter seal.

His moans grew louder, and you could tell he was struggling to keep quiet. “Please,” he whined, his voice strained. “I-I’m gonna…”

A choked gasp cut off his words as he reached his climax, his release hitting the back of your throat in hot, pulsing waves. You swallowed him down, savoring the taste of him, the warmth spreading through you as you looked up at him, your eyes meeting his. His expression was one of pure ecstasy, mixed with a hint of disbelief and awe.

As he slowly came down from his high, his grip on your hair loosened, and he gently helped you to your feet. "That was..." he trailed off, still catching his breath. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to. Besides, I think you deserved it,” you said before pointing a finger at him. “But we can’t keep doing this at work.”

He looked at you, amusement and disbelief dancing in his eyes as he adjusted his clothes. You could almost read his thoughts: you were the one who initiated this, not once, but twice. The first time might have been out of panic, but this time, it was all you.

“I’m serious,” you said, crossing your arms to emphasize your point. “Now that you’re back, we should keep a certain distance between us. No more sneaking around.”

He raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile curling at the corners of his mouth. But then you watched as his expression suddenly shifted, as if he remembered something and his smile turned into a frown followed by the furrow of his eyebrows.

“What? What’s wrong?”

He glanced at you, his hands sinking into the front pockets of his slacks. “I haven’t told this to anyone but… there’s a condition to my reinstatement.”

“What do you mean?”

He took a deep breath, his eyes locking onto yours. “For every hundred days that I spend on the field, I’m required to take thirty days off.”

You blinked, processing the information. “Wait, what? So you’re not fully back?”

“Technically I am, just not how I want it to be.”

You watched as his shoulders slightly fell. “You’re not happy about this, are you?”

“What am I supposed to do on my days off? A whole month of sitting around in my apartment doing nothing?”

You took a step closer, placing a comforting hand on his arm. “You’re not going to be sitting around doing nothing. Think of it as an opportunity. You can catch up on your reading, maybe even take a trip somewhere.”

He shook his head. “That’s not the same. I want to be out there, doing my job, helping people. It’s what I’m good at.”

“I know,” you said softly. “But you can’t give your best if you’re burnt out. These breaks could help you recharge, keep you sharp.”

He sighed, looking down at the floor. “I just feel like I’m being benched, like they don’t trust me fully.”

You tugged his arm, forcing him to meet your gaze. “Hey, they trust you. This is about keeping you safe. After everything you went through… Spence, you deserve this break. They just want to make sure you’re at your best every time you’re back in the field.”

When he didn’t seem to fully absorb your words, you pressed on.

“Think about it, you have so many options. You could pick up a new hobby, spend more time with your mom... or finally visit those places you’ve always talked about. Like that museum you mentioned before, what was it called again?”

His gaze softened as he listened to your suggestions. "The Smithsonian," he replied after a moment, a small smile playing on his lips. “I've always wanted to spend a whole day there without rushing.”

"Exactly! Now you'll have the time to do that."

He nodded slowly, the tension easing from his shoulders. "I guess you're right.”

“See? It’s all about perspective.”

His lips curved into a smile as you both fell into silence. Then, he studied you, his eyes scanning your features as if trying to decipher the thoughts swirling in your mind through the subtle shifts of your expression.

“Will you come with me?”

Your heart skipped a beat, and your breath caught in your throat at the unexpected question.

“You want me to come with you to the museum?”

"Yeah," he murmured, his voice soft, almost quiet. "Will you?"

It was a simple question, but it held a weight that you couldn't ignore. You had spent plenty of time together, grabbing lunch, chatting at the coffee shop down the road. But this felt… different. More personal. More intimate.

And suddenly it came crashing to you. You were so absorbed in what was happening between you, the stolen kisses, the physical attraction, that you didn’t realize your friendship was never going to be the same again.

On one hand, the idea of spending more time alone with him was undeniably tempting, but the rational part of you wasn’t sure if it was the wisest thing to do. He was your friend, a good one at that, and getting emotionally involved with friends could either strengthen or strain the relationship.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair as you searched for the right words. But before you could answer him, both of your phones vibrated with a notification. You both looked at your own devices and read the message.

“We’re leaving now,” Spencer announced, shoving back his phone in his pocket. “We should go.”

You nodded slowly, your gaze lingering on the door for a moment longer before you turned towards him. “You know what? You should head out first. I need some time to myself.”

He furrowed his brows slightly. You could tell he wanted to ask more questions, but he didn’t press on. “You sure?”

“Yes,” you replied. “Just give me a minute and I’ll follow behind.”

His eyes lingered on you for another second before he nodded, offering you a small, reassuring smile. “Sure, I’ll save a seat for you.”

You returned his smile, though it felt more like a grimace as you watched him exit the room. The click of the door closing behind him seemed to echo in the sudden silence, leaving you alone with your swirling thoughts as the rush of emotions flooded over you. It felt as if you were standing at the edge of a precipice, unsure whether to leap or retreat.

With a deep breath, you pressed a hand to your chest, trying to calm the fluttering inside. But the truth was undeniable—you were falling for him, and you were falling fast.

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