#platonic spencer reid

[spencer-reids-adventures]

ok computer

summary: where did spencer's anti-technology quirk come from?

characters: spencer reid, aaron hotchner, penelope garcia

warnings: mentions of violence

wordcount: 1.2k

ao3 link

He got knocked out in a cornfield.

That’s the first thing he remembers.

As his mind swims back into consciousness, he sees the little red light on the camera that’s focused on him from across the room, and, next to it, several laptops all set up in a row streaming different feeds. It’s horrifying, the way Hankel is using technology to spy and stalk and kill. It’s horrifying to know his friends are probably watching him right now. He feels violated and terrified and helpless.

Hours pass, bleeding into days, and he’s forced to choose a person on a screen, someone to save from their untimely death. Hankel plays Russian roulette with him, the camera picking up every click of the gun. He’s stuck in a technological hell, and despite the clues he’s left for his team, he doesn’t know how he’s going to get out of this. 

He does get out of it, eventually. And sure, the cameras helped—they let him get his messages to the team, which in turn let them figure out where he’s been taken. But more than that, the computers have caused relentless pain and suffering for everyone. If it weren’t for those computers, Hankel might not have killed all of those people. If it weren’t for those computers, the team wouldn’t have had to see Spencer die. If it weren’t for those computers… 

When he finally gets home, broken and bruised, Spencer stumbles into his living room to see his laptop open on the desk, practically glaring at him. He hobbles over to it and slams it shut, then puts it in a drawer for good measure. He wants nothing to do with it. Just seeing it gives him a sick feeling in his stomach. He doesn’t want it. He doesn’t want it.

At work, he puts a piece of tape over the webcam of the computer at his desk, and he ignores the entire monstrosity, leaving it turned off as he does all of his files meticulously by hand. No one questions it. They’re used to Spencer having his quirks, and for the most part, they don’t give him a hard time anymore. No one forces him to explain.

Years pass, and he continues to avoid the computer as much as possible, and one day, Penelope comes into the conference room with an armful of touchscreen tablets. 

“Welcome to the 21st century,” she says as she passes them out. “Behold. Everyone has a new tablet.”

Spencer can’t help himself. “We’ve gone paperless?” he laments, frowning.

“Fear not, Doctor of the Dark Ages,” Penelope says reassuringly. “I went old school for your anti-technology quirk. Paper files, hard copy photos. But the abacus is your responsibility.”

Spencer smiles at the file folders in front of him, grateful for Garcia’s consideration. He assumes everything’s fine, until Hotch comes to sit down next to him on the jet on the way to their next case.

“May I ask you a question, Reid?”

“Uh, sure,” says Spencer. “What’s up?”

“I’m curious why you choose to do all of your work by hand instead of using the technology that the bureau provides you. I know Garcia referred to your ‘anti-technology quirk’ but I guess I’m just wondering…where does that come from? You’re a scientist. Why are you so opposed to technology?”

A dozen answers run through Spencer’s mind. He could tell Hotch he worries computers are taking over the world, like that unsub they had years ago in Seattle. He could say it’s because he doesn’t understand how computers work. He could make up any number of reasons. 

But in the end, he decides to tell the truth.

“Tobias Hankel used technology to stalk and kill people, and then he kidnapped me and used that technology to show you what he was doing to me, and I—” He shrugs. “It’s never been the same, since then.”

“Is that why you have tape over your webcam?”

Spencer nods. “I don’t like the idea that someone could be watching me through the computer,” he mutters. “I don’t like looking at computers. I don’t like using them. It all just feels…tainted. I can’t help but associate it with him, with that entire ordeal. And I just don’t like to think about that, you know?”

“I understand,” Hotch says. “Thank you for being honest with me, Reid.”

“You’re welcome,” Spencer says quietly. “Is it…okay if I keep using the paper files?”

“That’s absolutely fine,” Hotch promises. “I won’t force you to use a tablet, as long as you promise to keep using your cell phone. We need to be able to send you information that way.”

“That’s fine. I don’t, uh, have any trauma associated with cell phones, luckily.”

Hotch flashes a rare smile. “I’m glad.”

The more time that passes, the more Spencer starts to recognize how convenient it would be to use one of the tablets the rest of his team have. He doesn’t have the ability to instantly email pictures or files or messages back and forth. He’s forced to take grainy photos with his phone. A lot of things would be a lot easier if he had a tablet of his own.

He considers that one evening as he drags his ancient and untouched laptop out of the drawer at home and opens it up. He has to plug it in before it turns on, but when it does, he forces himself to play around with it for a while. Exposure therapy, he thinks. Maybe he can get past this.

It takes almost a year. Almost a year of messing around with his laptop, of using the computer on his desk at work, of occasionally asking his coworkers to borrow their tablets for a minute to send something. And as time goes on, it gets easier and easier, until he’s finally ready to approach Garcia and ask for a tablet of his own. 

“Oh, boy wonder,” she gushes, with a huge smile on her face. She pulls a box containing a brand new tablet out of the bottom drawer of her desk and hands it to him. “I thought you’d never ask.”

“Would you teach me how to use it?” he asks shyly. “I’m trying to be better at technology, but…”

“It’s a huge learning curve,” she supplies. “Of course I’ll help you.”

She spends the next few days tutoring him, until he has everything down and knows what he’s doing.

On their next case, she winks at him as everyone pulls out their tablets at the round table and Spencer joins them, no longer forced to wait for Garcia to hand him a paper file. Emily glances at him and does a double-take.

“Since when do you use one of these bad boys?” she asks, holding up her tablet. “Are we in an alternate universe? A parallel dimension?”

“Nah,” says Spencer. “I just made a choice, that’s all.”

“And it’s the right choice,” Garcia chirps. “Wait ‘til you see how well our boy genius handles the technology!”

Spencer blushes. “Thank you, Garcia,” he murmurs, quickly turning the device on and opening the crime scene photos and case notes. “Now, what have we got?”

The attention turns away from him as Garcia presents the case, and Spencer’s shoulders slump with relief. He can do this.

And he can. The case goes smoothly, they catch the unsub quickly, and Spencer is convinced it’s in part because he can work that much faster and more efficiently. He tries not to beat himself up for all that time when he was stuck in his paper files.

You did what you had to do, he thinks. And look where you are now.

No longer Doctor of the Dark Ages.

[natashxromanovf]

Hey, John!

Spencer Reid x chronic pain condition!fem!reader

WORD COUNT: 1682

WARNINGS: swearing, mentions of a gun, mentions of gunshots

REQUESTED: {x} by anon, platonic relationship

SUMMARY: When a police officer talks bad about you behind your back, you later prove him wrong. 

A/N: thank you for this request! gif credits @toyboxboy

It’s on days like these that you feel the most useless to the team - sure, your brains make up for the fact that you can’t go on the field, and you know you’re crucial for the team to work, yet deep down there’s always that feeling that you don’t belong there. The case had already started bad since you were having a bad day with your pain, but you still managed to go with them, mostly because you know this case is going to be a complex one, so they will need all the minds they can get.

“Here, let me help you,” Spencer says as he helps you out of the plane, the heat of Los Angeles immediately blowing into your face. You thank him, softly smiling at him. Spencer has been your best friend ever since you joined the team. He has helped you a lot over the years, never once complaining when you asked him if he could do something for you - and you’re infinitely grateful for that. He really has been the best friend anyone could ask for.

A couple of minutes later you arrive at the precinct, thankful for the fact that they have an elevator. You set up as soon as the sheriff shows you where you can put your things, time being quite an important factor in this case.

As usual, Spencer stays behind to set up a geographical profile, asking you for help on this one since there were a lot of victims already, hence there are a lot of paths and points to mark. You of course help him, and once you’re done you move back, trying hard to notice a pattern.

“I can’t see one,” you confess, a deep, focused frown taking over your face.

“Me neither,” he answers, and you can practically see the wheels in his head turning. “I need coffee,” he declares, taking his eyes off the map. “You want one?”

“Yes, please,” you practically exclaim, a chuckle escaping Spencer’s mouth.

“Okay, coming right up,” he mutters, walking out of the room. You try your best to focus on the piece of paper hanging in front of you, but there’s a police officer that just won’t stop staring at you and it’s making you lose focus every time you think you found something.

Deciding enough is enough, you look at him, giving him a smile full of attitude. He immediately averts his gaze, going back to talking with his colleague. Sadly, you can say you’re used to people judging you silently; it’s okay when they simply look because let’s be honest - if you saw someone in a wheelchair you would look too, and it’s okay when they look once, maybe twice and move on with their lives but what really bothers you is when they stare and they keep staring, especially if it’s on a case and the one silently judging is a police officer.

After this very unpleasant interaction, you simply turn your head back to the board, starting to look for any kind of pattern again. And yet somehow, you can see it now - it’s an unfinished heart. That tells you a lot about the unsub so you decide to go look for Spence, instead of just waiting for him to get back.

But when you start pushing yourself out of the room, you see the cop that was staring at you before now talking to Spencer and you can’t help but eavesdrop, once you hear they’re talking about you.

“...I don't know what people like her are even doing as FBI agents, they’re no use. They can’t go out on the field, all they can do is hang out at the office the whole time,” the officer whispers, and you could’ve sworn you saw murder written in Spencer’s eyes. Yet there’s a part of you that fears Spencer’s reaction - like is he actually going to agree with him or is he going to stand up for you?

And of course, Spencer chose the latter. “You know, agent Y/L/N is actually very important for the team. We couldn’t save half the cases we get if it weren’t for her. She’s extremely smart and sometimes, she sees things all of us overlook. Some crucial things too. She’s a total badass so if you have something to say about her condition, please don’t talk to me about it. Really, I don’t want to hear another dumb thing come out of your stupid mouth.”. You have never heard Spencer talk like that to anybody, especially not to a fellow law enforcement officer. But in the end, you’re glad he started now.

After saying what he had to say he walked off, stopping in his tracks when he saw you near there. He had a sympathetic smile on his face, one you were very grateful for at that moment.

“Come here,” you gesture for him to bend over and he does so, immediately being wrapped in one of your special hugs. “Thank you,” you say silently, a small smile stretching over your lips.

“No need to thank me, Y/N/N, I just spoke the facts. We really do need you, you know,” he explains, handing you your coffee once you let go of him.

“You really do, don’t you?” you joke, pulling a laugh out of him. “Anyway, I wanted to tell you I found the pattern,” you add, getting back into the work mood. You show him the unfinished heart and explain where you think the unsub might go next. There are two points he may go, either one end of the heart or the other. Thankfully, there were enough officers to send to both locations, along with the BAU team.

There was one thing, in particular, you missed though - something that was exactly in the middle of that “heart”. It was the police station you’re currently at. Right exactly in the middle stands this building, tall and proud.

You knew something was missing, something you missed. It was bugging you so much that you went back to check. You looked at everything. From the lines the points were connected with, to the surroundings of the crime scenes until something in you clicked. You looked to the middle, and everything suddenly made sense. Of course, his target was the police station all along.

You quickly drove to the phone on the table but before you could dial Hotch’s number into it, a gunshot rang through the room. You quickly dropped the telephone and pushed yourself to the bullpen, only to see a white male in his early 40s with a gun pointed at one of the officers. Just like you profiled. The unsub must have panicked when he saw the police closing in - so instead of completing the heart first, he went straight for his final target.

“Hey!” you shout, getting the unsub’s attention. His gun immediately points to you instead, making you put your hands up in defence. You got this, you were trained for these kinds of situations. The first rule of any hostage negotiation is to try to talk the target down. Calm them down, present them their options in the most negative way for them possible. If that doesn’t work, just stall until help arrives. You profiled that he wouldn't negotiate so you went straight to phase two. Stall.

“Who the fuck are you?” he nervously asks, waving his gun around. A mental breakdown? You didn’t profile that but it’s better to know from the beginning than be surprised at the wrong moment later.

“I’m SSA Y/N Y/L/N,” you calmly answer, breathing steadily even though you feel like your heart will explode any second now. “And who are you, if I may ask?”

“You don’t have to know!” he quickly replies. He’s jumpy. Good. Maybe you can use that against him. This will either be a very good or a very bad trait of his.

“Okay, let’s just call you John, shall we?” you suggest, still holding your hands up.

“Sure,” he replies, the gun in his hands held high. That’s when you see a familiar silhouette behind him. Spencer Reid in all his glory. You have never been so relieved to see him. He catches your eye, telling you his plan with one look. You slightly nod the minute the unsub’s eyes avert for a second. Everything is up to you now.

“Hey, John!” Emily shouts from the other side of the room, making him whip around at the speed of light. Yet he wasn’t faster than you. As soon as Emily screamed, you pulled out your gun, shooting him in the thigh before he hurts anyone. And at that moment, Spencer jumped on him, seizing the gun and putting the unsub to the ground. Immediately officers were on him, cuffing and holding him in place.

“Are you okay?” Spencer is at your side in a second.

“I’m fine,” you smile. “A little shaken up, but aren’t we all?” you question, more rhetorically than anything else. He lets out a sigh of relief, looking away only to lock eyes with the cop that was previously talking bad about you behind your back.

“See, I told you she was a badass,” he declares, taking in the officer’s shaking form. “Hope you can stop shaking soon and realise that the woman right there,” he points to you “is braver than you ever were and will be,” he finishes, not paying the man in blue any more attention.

“My hero,” you joke, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“I think Emily and you are the real heroes here,” he says in reply, underappreciating himself. Again.

“You were pretty cool too,” you wink, shaking your head as you chuckle.

“C’mon, let’s get you home, it’s been a long day,” Spencer comments, getting up from his position, going to walk behind you so he can push your wheelchair. You’re very grateful for him at this moment. He showed up and that’s all that matters - you knew you could count on him and his smart brain.

criminal minds taglist: @velvetcloxds @mollysolo @hallecarey1 @mirclealignr @cupids-crystals

spencer reid: @eichenhouseproperty

i hope you enjoyed this! don't forget to like, reblog and/or comment, it really helps writers with motivation <33

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[mrs-weasley-reid]

Escape Is Mandatory

platonic Spencer Reid x geniusbau!reader | part 4

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

Summary: prison changed Spencer, and along with it were a couple of horrible choices bau!reader refused to tolerate, hence a threat to their years of friendship. But all of it disappeared as soon as an unsub threatened your life.

Warning: details of death, violence, and infidelity; curse word(s)

A/N: I can't believe it has been over a year since I posted this mini-series (me just disappearing out of nowhere, lol). This draft has been sitting for a year. I never published it because it felt boring (I still do, somehow), but I wanted to celebrate the series reaching a year old HAHA! Anywaysss, as usual, this might be heavy, so be mindful when reading. It's not my gif; credits to the owner :)

— ✿ — ✿— ✿ ✿ ✿

Luther Gerard grinned maniacally, leaning against his seat, "Let me guess... sister? Oh, but she's too pretty to be related to you." His cuffed hand caressed your picture on the table, "Lover, perhaps?"

Spencer's jaw clenched, "Where. Is. She?" His palms were itchy, breathing steadily as he kept them flat on the table.

This unsub was unlike any other serial killer he had encountered. Luther Gerard, age 38, is an average plumber but one hell of a genius, almost as dangerously intelligent as Spencer, with 186 IQ.

Spencer would be lying if he said he wasn't nervous. He was terrified to the bone. Because this time, the unsub had 83.248% outsmarting him, and the victim was you.

"Anyone wanna hear how I picked her up?" Luther glanced at the two-sided mirror, chuckling, "I'll take the silence as a yes."

He looked at Spencer straight in his eyes, "It was dim, but not too much. She was 40 feet away from the precinct entrance... 15 from you. She looked pretty mad when she turned her back, but she looked so hurt walking away. I can remember her tears. Oh, they were sweet and just a little salty. She knew I was there for her. She was going to scream for you. But what can I say? She was a second too slow. I was going to get your attention but she looked so good unconscious in my arms."

"You sick son of a bitch—"

It took Luke, Matt, and three police officers to hold Spencer back. His face was red, and Luke swore he was breathing fire. His knuckles were white as he grabbed Luke's shirt and a bit of the skin on Matt's arm.

Spencer escaped from being pinned by five people with minimal struggle, grabbing Luther's collar to the point of suffocation. "Where the hell is she?! Tell me where!"

Luther laughed out loud, watching as Spencer crumbled into an angry mess. "Listen here, Dr. Reid... you can be a point smarter than me as long as you can, but she will always be two points dumber than me. She'll die in that fucking warehouse."

Emily barged into the interrogation room, "Reid." She gestured at Matt to take him out of the room, leaving Luke to get the answers they'd been looking for the past five hours.

Spencer aggressively shrugged Matt's hands on his shoulders, "I can walk," His voice grew a little softer than seconds ago, but his tone still crunched with anger.

As soon as the door shut, Spencer turned to Emily, "She's dying out there."

"You're not the only one who's worried. She's our friend, too, you know. But we won't find her if you let your emotions take over you." Emily took a deep breath, giving him a concerned look.

Spencer ran his fingers through his hair, "I'm not worried. I'm scared." He dropped his head, letting a cruel sigh pass his shivering lips.

Despite his attempt to reinsert himself in the interrogation room, Emily forbade him from coming in contact with the unsub for the rest of the evening. So, he stood next to JJ in the conference room, trying to save you in the best way he knew how: geographic profiling.

"I should've known," Spencer mumbled under his breath.

JJ turned to him, "Did you find something?" She scanned the board in front of them, hoping that she'd see what Spencer was seeing.

Spencer loosened his tie, "The victims. The location. I should've figured it out the moment we briefed about the case. It should've clicked." He guiltily looked at JJ, "I should've kept her safe."

"Spence," JJ spoke motherly. "None of us knew she was the target. You have to know that none of this is your fault." She gave him a kind look, something he knew well to differ whether it was out of pity or genuine compassion.

"But it is my fault..." He averted his eyes from her. He couldn't bear to look at anyone in their eyes, much less the thought of yours, filled with tears from his stupidity.

JJ's eyebrows gently knitted, "Did something happen the last time you saw her?"

— ✿ — ✿— ✿ ✿ ✿

2 days ago...

The afternoon's fifth hour barely struck, yet the sky was already dark. The lampposts around the precinct were enough light to at least keep you and Spencer from tripping.

None of you have said a word for the past three minutes. You even missed Emily's nod. Both of you were too occupied to care. You: with the obscene sight you just witnessed and the burning itch to smack the back of his head. Spencer: with whatever internal conflict he was going through after coming back from prison, he refused to talk to anyone about.

With every step away from the might as well named crime scene, your lips slowly unfastened. Spencer had barely clicked the SUV's key when you began.

"She's married."

"She's unhappily married."

Your eyebrows clashed, "That's not an excuse, Reid. Your wrinkly brain knows that."

"Can't you just mind your own business?" Spencer rolled his eyes, treating your conversation lighter than you wanted him to.

"I would have if only you did," You looked at him with utter disbelief. No amount of blinking would erase the sight forever etched in the back of your curse of a photographic memory. "Her unhappy marriage was her business. That was her and her husband's business."

Spencer was growing impatient with you. The signs were easy to catch. His knotted forehead. Thoughtless glare. Clenched hands deep in his pockets. An obvious Spencer-is-pissed-at-you special tell.

He straightened his back, "I was just helping her out."

"Holy shit—" You scoffed a baffled chuckle, "Are you hearing yourself? Adultery and sympathy are not the same, Reid. What the hell has gotten into your head?"

Ordinary people wouldn't have cared. Luke and Matt would disagree and judge Spencer's stupid choices but would've kept their mouths shut. Emily and David would spit a bit of advice on how morally wrong he was, but they would have minded their own business for the most part. Tara would've been disgusted but refused to get herself involved. JJ and Penelope would have been utterly disappointed and angry at him, but they wouldn't have missed a chance to make up with him.

You, however, felt nauseatingly repugnant. Years of friendship felt like a thin layer of ice loudly breaking. He knew most of your uninteresting and failed romance. How often has he lent you a back to bury your face on? The number of times he's caught not two but four of your short-term lovers shamelessly cheating. He knew well enough, too much even.

"You know what I think?" He chuckled evilly. And you knew then he was aiming for your throat. "I think you're just jealous because you don't have the aptitude to get over your dead boyfriend."

Your jaw dropped. You half-expected him to say those words, but it still surprised you. It still stung. Your tears were fighting to flow, but you had enough self-respect to not do it before him, not with his shitty attitude, at least.

You gripped the hem of your blazer, "You're a jerk. That's what you are." You took a sharp breath, biting the overflowing ache on your chest. "Come back when you've got something for the case."

A second didn't pass after you turned your back on him, and the tears immediately trailed down your face. You walked out of the parking lot as fast as you could. Crying in front of your childhood classmates felt more gratifying than in front of Spencer.

Wiping the unwanted tears from your cheeks, your feet came to a halt without warning. Something about the fifteen-foot distance from Spencer's back and the forty-foot gap from the entrance to the precinct left you terrifyingly vulnerable.

Your gears began turning.

Victims were awfully close to your build.

You're in your hometown.

And it clicked a second too late.

— ✿ — ✿— ✿ ✿ ✿

"Spence!" JJ gently shook Spencer back to reality. As soon as she knew he was back down to earth, she immediately spoke, "They found another body—"

Spencer flew out of the door before JJ could even finish speaking. He went to Luke, who was on his way to one of the SUVs. "Where?" He asked in a rush. His heart was beating right in his ear. A series of negative thoughts filled his head.

Luke had a few seconds to tell Spencer where the said body was but quickly interrupted Spencer's thoughts. "We don't know anything yet, Reid."

"But what if it's her?" Spencer snapped. He had little patience for anyone. All he knew was how important it was to see a body that's not you.

— ✿ — ✿— ✿ ✿ ✿

"Fuck!" You cried in a shattered voice.

Tears flowed nonstop down your face, along with your own blood dripping from the top of your horribly bandaged head. Luther Gerard was evil enough to let you bleed slowly to death.

Unbeknownst to him, you were the most stubborn person in the entire BAU team. You bled your way out of the place he locked you in, cursing the pain off your chest.

You have been loosening the barbwire wrapped around your feet with your bare hands for the past hour. Your hands and your feet had gotten skinned off from the sharp metal.

Hope was on your side, though, as you felt your left foot painfully slide off the wrap. You cried out in joy, holding your ankles tight as if the pain would immediately dissipate.

You wiped your tears off your face, smearing blood from your palm onto your skin. You laughed, already delirious from lack of blood. "I'm going to break your neck once I find you. Then I'll beat the hell out of Reid for taking his goddamn time."

— ✿ — ✿— ✿ ✿ ✿

Spencer felt relief wash over him as soon as he glanced at the lifeless woman being pulled out of the creek. It may have been messed up that he was thankful a different woman died, but he wouldn't have wanted it any other way.

He and Luke drove back to the precinct with a little less tense chests. They may not have found you, but the fact that you weren't the body they found meant one thing. You were still alive. That's all that mattered.

"We'll find her," Luke broke the silence between them, glancing at Spencer from his peripheral. "She's stubborn. She won't let anyone hurt her without punching back. She's probably on her way back to the precinct." He attempted to lighten the mood.

Spencer took a deep breath, "She better be." He looked outside of the car, biting his lower lip. "She has to escape wherever she is. It's mandatory. I'm not letting her die without finishing our argument."

— ✿ — ✿— ✿ ✿ ✿

It's been two days of searching every nook and cranny of your little hometown, but the team hasn't gotten anywhere in finding you.

Each member was exhausted, especially Spencer. He hasn't gotten a wink of sleep. He couldn't even if he tried to.

They were running out of ideas. But like every single cases the BAU team had, you knew how to turn things around. Their wake snapped up as gasps echoed in the entire precinct.

The team rushed to see the commotion and almost burst into tears as soon as they saw you.

"Oh my god..." JJ whimpered under her breath as she clasped her mouth.

You stood there by the entrance, bloodied up and half-conscious. You held the door's handle tight, painting it with your dirty blood as it kept you up on your feet. They could barely recognize your face from the mixture of blood and dirt on your face.

Despite your pitiful, bloodied state, you managed to show them your temper. "You better have caught that bastard." You growled weakly.

Your body was shaking from exhaustion. Just as you slipped out of consciousness, Spencer rushed to catch your body.

Tara called for a medic while Emily went to your aid. Luke and Matt went straight to work things out and give Gerard the worst news he's ever going to receive: it turns out you weren't as dumb as he wanted you to be.

Spencer gently wiped your face with his sleeve. He didn't care if it was his favorite shirt. All he cared about was how his best friend stubbornly stayed alive.

When Emily sat next to him to keep you off the floor, she saw just how much your friendship meant to Spencer. She squeezed his shoulder, "She's back safe with us, Reid. She'll be alright."

Her words prompted Spencer's sobs, tears trickling onto your face in hopes that it would wash the hell you went through for the past days. He quickly wiped them off, though. He knew well enough how you'd react to his 'filthy tears' coming in contact with your skin.

"Yeah, you better clean it off," You mumbled with your eyes closed, gripping the hem of his cardigan vest. You couldn't let yourself pass out, knowing you had a severe wound on your head.

Spencer choked a laugh, "Took you long enough. I thought I would have to save your ass." He sniffed as he let the paramedics transfer you onto a crash cart.

You scoffed, turning into a short series of coughs. "Just admit it. You can't figure things out without my brain power. Your brain's getting smooth, Reid. Prodigy no more."

The team couldn't help but roll their eyes at you and Spencer's banter, bouncing back faster than your recovery. Although they hated to admit it, they preferred the two of you that way rather than apart.

"I'm glad you're safe..." Spencer's voice became softer. Somehow, he couldn't stop himself from tearing up. This was the second time he'd cried nonstop. The first time being the love of his life's death.

He was glad this time wasn't due to someone important's death. He didn't know how he'd handle it if the person he could always rely on would leave him of this world.

As you were dragged into the ambulance, you gave all the rest of your strength to glare at Spencer. "Don't think you're off the record. After I deal with Gerard, you're next."

"Is it mandatory?" He sarcastically stated, jumping into the ambulance the moment you were settled in. He couldn't bear to leave you out of his sight.

[lightningcrashes]

"Are you worried?" / "About what?" / "About me being in the field. That I might freak out, overreact?" / "Why would you even-"

SPENCER REID & EMILY PRENTISS CRIMINAL MINDS | 13.02 "To a Better Place"

[pathologicalreid]

Could you write a platonic Spencer X reader? Like she’s the new, youngest member on the team, he remembers how it feels like and kinda takes you under his wing.

neophyte | S.R.

next

in which dr. reid gives advice to help you cope with the requirements of your new job

who? spencer reid x fem!platonic!BAU!reader

category: fluff

content warnings: details from 1x6 "L.D.S.K.", mentions of killing an unsub, guns and general cm related violence. post prison reid.

word count: 1.3k

a/n: hi!! thank you! i had such a great time writing this! i love a good platonic reader fic <3. (side note i am currently working on making my way through all of my requests :-))

Your brows were furrowed in the dark, abandoned office that you darted into at the very first opportunity. Try as you might, you couldn’t forget the way your last case ended.

Some agents wore their first takedown like a badge of honor, but you had no interest in looking at this like an accomplishment.

You rubbed at your eyes, he was a killer, he had a knife to a teenager's throat, and yet, you felt bad that you had killed him. Emily had assured you that it was a clean shoot and you were right to kill him, but you didn’t care that it was a clean shoot. You cared that someone was dead, and you were the one who pulled the trigger. Shouldn’t it matter to you that by taking one life, you likely saved several others in the process?

Glancing over your shoulder to see if anyone could see you, you turned sharply into the empty office. It had been left abandoned years ago by Agent Morgan, and now you were grateful for the empty space. If you were going to cry, at least you could do it in peace.

The events kept playing in your head, the UnSub held the knife to the kid’s throat, and you asked him to let the kid go, but he knew he was going to jail anyway. The temptation of another kill was too good for him to turn down. You saw the flex of his wrist as he prepared himself to kill, and you pulled the trigger.

You struck him right between his eyes. You promptly walked the teenager to reunite with his parents before you snuck around the side of the building and hurled before returning to the rest of the team like all was well and good.

“Y/N?” A voice whispered into the office, and you braced yourself for someone to tell you that you shouldn’t be in there, you looked up and saw Reid, he had his token leather satchel over his shoulder like he was ready to leave. “Are you alright?”

Haphazardly, you wiped at the tears on your face and smiled weakly, “Yeah, I’m good.” You lied through your teeth, “Just uh…” you desperately tried to find a reason for being in the empty office, “enjoying the scenery.” You cringed inwardly, a five-year-old wouldn’t believe you, let alone a seasoned profiler.

Like you had done earlier, Spencer looked behind him before entering the office, he set his bag on the floor and slid his back down the wall, so he was sitting next to you on the floor. “So, how are you enjoying the blank walls?”

You wrapped your arms around yourself, “I am enjoying myself immensely, thank you very much.”

“So, what’s wrong?” He asked, nudging your arm gently.

Hesitantly, you turned to face Spencer. Kind, non-judgmental Spencer who had once lent you a book on the jet because you were bored. “I killed him,” you whispered. “And I don’t know what to do about it.”

You watched as realization dawned on him, “Did Emily say it was a clean shoot?” He straightened his legs out in front of him.

Nodding, you went back to staring straight ahead. “Yeah, she said I gave him ample opportunity to cede and that I performed as necessary.” You took a deep breath and fiddled with the hem of your jacket, “but I didn’t… I’ve never…” How could you explain this to Spencer without sounding like a kid?

“You’ve never killed anyone before,” he finished for you. “Even though he was a serial killer and he would’ve killed that teenager, you still killed him.”

You sighed despondently, “Profilers.”

Reid leaned back against the wall. In your peripheral vision, you could see the light from the hallway as it fed into the office. “I had the same problem after I killed someone for the first time,” he admitted to you.

Your head snapped to face him. Quite frankly, you had a hard time believing him, Spencer was a BAU veteran at this point. “You did?” You whispered.

He nodded, “Philip Dowd,” he said, making a face like the name felt foreign to him now. “He would’ve killed me, our old unit chief, and an emergency room full of hostages had I not done it, but I still couldn’t convince myself it was justified.” He shrugged, “I didn’t sleep well for weeks afterward.”

Turning to face him, you tilted your head in curiosity, “How did you figure it out? How did you manage?”

“I had someone who could give me advice,” he told you pointedly. “I put pictures of his victims up in my room, so I had something to remind me why I’m doing this,” he answered. “I won’t lie to you, it’s never going to be something enjoyable about this job. Taking someone’s life is…. Brutal, but saving lives makes it tolerable.”

Silent tears streamed down your face, “I wish he had just put the knife down. It doesn’t feel like justice.”

Spencer nodded understandingly, “Sometimes it doesn’t, but that family that you reunited today? They’ll never forget you.” He reassured you, and you remembered the tears from that mother as she hugged you and thanked you for saving her son's life.

“For the good of the many, right?” You asked bitterly.

He hummed, “If that’s how you have to look at it, yeah, but if you don’t know how you have to look at it to feel normal yet, that’s okay too.” He swept a strand of hair from his face, “The point I’m trying to make is that I had someone to help me navigate all of this, and I think you could use that too.”

Your eyebrows raised, “Like a guru?” You asked, a light smile on your face.

“I was thinking more like a mentor, but sure. I could be your BAU guru,” he said, the grin plain in his voice.

Then the moment left as quickly as it came, you still couldn’t get the way the blood drained from his body out of your mind. You wiped a tear from under your eyes, “I can do this, Reid,” you assured him.

He reached over your head to a tissue box on top of a table, handing you the box, he answered, “I know you can. Emily wouldn’t have handpicked you from the academy if you didn’t have what it takes. You’re just what the BAU needs, and if you decide to stay, you’ll be perfect here.”

Unable to help it, you scoffed, “How do you just know that?”

“I’ve seen a lot of people come and go from the BAU, but no one who reminds me so much of myself. And I’ve been here for long enough that I hope you take those words for what they’re worth,” he answered you, not even bothered by your indignation. He stood first, reaching a hand out to help you to your feet, “You have my phone number, right?”

You furrowed your brows as you stood, “uh, yeah.” Garcia had programmed them herself on your very first day.

Spencer nodded, “Good. If you ever need help processing the job, or anything else, you can call. Or text. I’m usually better with calls. Any time, okay, Y/N?”

You cocked your head at him, “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” he answered simply as if it was obvious.

And just like that, he grabbed his bag and turned around. Heading into the elevator, he waved as the doors shut and you watched, feeling like a weight had been lifted off of your shoulders.

next

[jcmadgirl]

Something I've noticed about Derek and Spencer

In Criminal Minds episode 4x01, Hotch tells Derek he didn't give his recommendation to Derek because he thinks Derek doesn't quite trust anybody yet. Specifically, he also asks Derek if he should drive, which symbolically would mean that Derek has to put his life in Hotch's hands, therefore trusting him. Hotch offers to drive to give Derek the opportunity to prove he trusts someone else with his life, but Derek refuses and ends up driving.

An episode later, 4x02, at the end after they've solved the case, again they have to drive to the airport, and the team (JJ, Emily and Spencer) are making fun of Derek for not liking to ask for directions.

Right after, Derek throws the keys to Spencer, telling him to drive.

I feel like this is a very obvious parallel and quite clear in demonstrating that Derek trusts Spencer with his life, therefore identifying him as one of the few people Derek trusts at all. It speaks of a very deep connection and love for each other, and i think it's a really cute way of showing it to the audience

[beelmons]

BAU men salsa dancing headcanons

Rossi is surprisingly good at it, although his movements are more on the stiff side. He does mostly the basic steps, like an uncle dancing at a wedding. He will spin you once or twice and even pull one of those leaning endings just as a show off.

Hotch is stiff, like, spaghetti before boiling stiff. The first time he dances, it's an awkward mess, although he grasped the steps pretty quickly. The second time, he is just as stiff but with more technique, he probably took a salsa class on the side. Basic steps only, playfully spins you off beat just so he can hug you, has a blast because he sees you have a blast.

Morgan is good, mad good. He will know how to spin you, cha cha cha, drop it and reverse it. He was probably forced to learn when Garcia was too shy to go to a class by herself, and surprise, surprise, he was excellent at it. If you are not careful, he might be even better than you. Can take it slow and simple if that's the mood, he is just happy to shake his but a bit.

Spencer knows the origins, raise, and fall of salsa dancing. He knows the names of all the steps by heart, and even the speed at which his body should move. Little problem? It just doesn't. He stumbles and steps on feet time and again, he won't look up from looking at his feet as he recites what the movements are supposed to look like. When he finally relaxes, he can sort of do it well, it's awkward and very basic, it's more you taking the lead, spinning him, and moving his arms, but it's nonetheless fun. He also has a last although he ended up breathless.

Luke is effortless, my man is latino, so you know he was peer pressured into learning growing up. He sings while he dances and will always take the lead. He prefers the simple, more casual steps, though if he gets lost in the music, he will begin to show off. He definitely smiles the entire time like a good performer, and will even do the 'two at a time' steps if any of the girls join you om the dance floor.

Matt is similar to Rossi, he got some of the steps down, but won't go as far as doing over complicated spins. He is elegant and less stiff, since he is tall, like, very tall, it looks a bit clumsy, but he always enjoys himself when he is dancing. He will, however, get tired pretty quickly, even when he is used to all types of cardio, the dancing just takes too much brain effort.

[podcastkevin]

"Wheels up in thirty." Everyone dispersed and you started to make your way to Garcia's cave.

"How come he doesn't go with us? I've read what he can do, it seems like he'd be excellent on the field." Emily asked. You had been with the BAU before Emily and she was still getting to know you. "Did you not see his age? Hotch won't let him on the field til he's older." "Older? Come on, Derek, he looks Spencer's age." Reid shakes his head and points down. "He's younger? Okay, I'm gonna guess Twenty-two." They others just look at her.

"...Twenty?" "Emily, Mn is Seventeen." Reid tells her and her eyes widen. "Wha- Seventeen?? How-" "He has the intelligence of Reid and the tech-iness of Garcia. It's like some weird mutation of the two put together." "How did he get here?" "Well, there's another thing we're not telling you." "Oh, what, he was solving sudoku problems when he turned two?" "Actually he was five." Reid answers. "He told you that?" "I watched him do it." "How?" Reid laughs with a small smile. (Y'know, his little smile he does sometimes after telling a "fun fact" to someone?) "He's my little brother." Reid reveals and Emily's jaw drops. "Your brother?" "Kid calls him suspenders just to annoy him. That's how I found out. Spencer and Suspenders, clever annoying younger brother nickname." Derek says. "Yeah, I call him (Annoyed older brother nickname) and he absolutely hates it. It's fun."

-------

Let's not pay attention to the age difference and just enjoy this silly little thing I made because age logic is dumb and I love Reid 😂

Also I turned 21 on Thursday (03.07.24) and I feel weird. Not physically just I feel weird that I'm one year older again.

[reveseke]

thinking about the reader being nicknamed as a crow, the crow of the team in fact. Solely known for his job title but also known for being a gift-giver. He just randomly gives whatever little things he finds to his teammates as little gifts that he deems suitable for it; Reid, Morgan, Garcia, Hotch, Prentiss, JJ, and so on.

Garcia and Reid would most honestly have them in a jar or something, sorted. Reid would most likely just leave a few little things in the pocket of his jackets or otherwise in some sort of container orginized. Prentiss would probably have something in her pockets or in one of the shelves. Morgan, JJ & Hotch keep them, but have very little idea what they would do with them (lies, give them to the kids if they feel like it. :D Morgan doesn't even have to give to his kid, he could give them to his sisters if he wanted to tbh.). Rossi probably would just forget them somewhere, same with Gideon mostly and just randomly find them and be amused by it.

Hotch doesn't mind Reader doing it as long as it doesn't distract him from the job. Also check the pockets before boarding the plane because someone most likely has something metallic in their pockets that R has found and given them (including [especially] him if R tended to be absentminded & forget things easily) that would set off the metal detectors.

[the-guilty-writer]

hi i'd like to request spence being proud of his neurodivergent daughter after she gets a good grade on a difficult project :))

He'd be so proud

Spencer Reid x daughter!reader

Spencer's body ached and his million-mile-an-hour mind was actually beginning to tire by the time he got home that night. The case hadn't been particularly difficult, but it had been fast-paced and sleepless. He was grateful the only thing standing between himself and his apartment was the door.

He unlocked it quietly, aware that you could possibly be asleep. The hour was late, and on school days you were often more fatigued than normal. Unlike Spencer, you didn't always thrive in school. The teaching style didn't catch in your brain, often leading to frustration and tears. Your dad could usually explain things better to you than a teacher could, but he couldn't make up for all the difficulties you faced.

You were on the couch, covered in a soft blanket. Spencer didn't find this unusual. There were many times he had come home to find that you tried and failed to stay up to greet him. However, this time you had succeeded in your endeavor of being awake when he walked through the door.

"Dad!" you jumped up from the couch as soon as he walked in, barreling toward him for a hug.

Though surprised, he caught you in his arms and wrapped you in a tight embrace. The feeling of holding you after such a long day was refreshing - it was hopeful.

"Dad, guess what?" You beamed up at him with a smile brighter than a star.

Spencer's worries dissipated in it's light.

"What?" he asked, matching your enthusiasm.

You held up a paper that he recognized instantly - the rubric for a project you'd slaved over for weeks. It had been a difficult assignment in the first place and your academic challenges only made it more strenuous. Blood, sweat, and many tears had gone into getting it completed to the best of your abilities. Apparently it had paid off.

The grade marked at the bottom of the paper was an A.

"Oh my gosh!" Excitement ran through every cell in Spencer's body. Your giggle made his heart swell with joy.

He engulfed you in a hug, squeezing you so tight he was afraid he may have crushed you. "I'm so proud of you."

You pulled away and he saw your face. A look of fulfillment showered your features, a satisfaction he'd never seen from you before.

"I'm so proud of me, too."

[redhoodie1723]

as requested! here’s the duos version!

part 1 part 2 part 4 part 5 part 6 part 7 part 8

[i-am-true-believer]

Hello again, sweet one, my late night scrollers, the early morning dreamers. I hope you're well, I hope today was better than yesterday.

I'm here to remind you that if there's an infinite number of universes, there's at least one where you are your comfort characters favorite person. They love and adore you for all your flaws and quirks and everything you hate about yourself, the same way you love all of their imperfections. There's a universe where they wait by the door for you every night, where they're your absolute best friend, where they take care of you and love you the way you should be loved.

You are so wonderful, did you know that? Every time you have a bad day, every time life tries to knock you down, you find the strength to get back up again. You keep going. Do you know how incredible that is? How proud your comfort character is of you for being able to do that? I'm so proud of you, I believe in you so much, and every day you make it through proves that I'm right to believe in you. We always knew you could do it, that you could make it to tomorrow.

I'll let you get back to your scrolling now, I bet you have so many stories just waiting for you, so many adventures and friendships to have. But before you go, I want to take a moment and remind you of something.

Anything that keeps you going, anything that makes the bad days better, anything that makes life even a little easier, is worth it. If fanfictions and comfort characters help you get through the day, then I hope you find the exact stories you need. Life is so hard and so scary, and sometimes it's easier to lose ourselves in the worlds of our comfort characters, and that's more than okay. Whatever keeps you going isn't anything to be ashamed of. Making it to tomorrow to read the next chapter of a fanfiction or a new edit of your comfort character is a valid reason to keep going.

I hope tomorrow is better than today, and that one day you won't need a reason to keep going, but for now, I'll give you this one. Your comfort character wants you to stay. They will always want you to stay. I want you to stay. I'm always here if anyone needs a friend.

Your comfort character believes in you, and so do I, the random girl on Tumblr who pops in every now and then to remind you that you are loved, you are enough, and you are worth it. You've got this sweet one, I know you do. Happy scrolling.

❤️💛True❤️💛

[cumulo-stratus]

Love Like a Fathers

Request: Hello, hope you're having a good day/night, I was wondering if I could request Spencer x Father figure reader, theyre On a case the unsub tries to kill Spencer but reader protects him and gets hurt himself.

Pairing: platonic!Spencer reid x Father figure!reader

Summary: Y/n gets hurt protecting Spencer from an unsub, and y/n and spencer spend some time together at the hospital

warnings: cannon typical violence, gunshot wounds/blood, swearing, s1 spencer being an adorable little cutie-pie <3

A/N: Friend I'm so so so sry this has been a WIP for like month😭- I've had like no motivation to write :( thank you for the patience and for the lovely request, and although ive never written platonic for spencer, i did my best! btw the lovely dividers are by @cafekitsune (not proof read)

1.3k

Spencer Reid and Y/n L/n weren’t related by blood, but if you asked anyone that knew them- they would tell you that it doesnt matter. y/n treated spencer like the son he never had, and spencer treated y/n like the father he lost. Even if you didn’t know them, you could tell the pair were close. Spencers intellect bounced well of y/n’s wisdom. Hotch knew this, and often paired spencer with y/n because of it. And when they got called to a case in the small town of Trutney, Alabama, it was no different. 

As soon as the plane landed l/n and reid had been paired off to go to the M.E.’s to look at the one body they had so far. And so the next 2 days went by as uneventfully as they could go on a case with the BAU. Interviews, and case files - take out around a conference table and calls to garcia- just a regular BAU case. Until the last day when they were sure they had the right guy; Daniel Wilson, he fit the profile perfectly. And so the team was spilt into 2 groups; one going to the house and one going to the workplace. Hotch sent y/n and spencer to the back knowing y/n would have spencers back if anything happened. 

As they crept through the long hallways silently the pair would share glances every now and then. When they reached a split Y/n made a silent flick of his wrist ordering spencer to take the path to the right while y/n would take the path to the left. Y/n stalked down the hall with his gun raised leaving Spencer to do the same with the other hallway. 

Y/n was clearing the final room at the end of the hall when the distant sound of grunting and a gun shot. Without another though y/n raced down the hall toward the continuous grunting yelping. Y/n just barely remembered to call for back up as he ran- Morgan's voice sounding through the phones speakers.

"What's up L/n-"

He was interrupted by y/n's out breath voice.

"I heard a shot from Reid's side of the house I need backup" 

Before Morgan could respond y/n hung up, stuffing the phone in his back pocket. When y/n reached the source of the sounds, he found a door slightly ajar. He pushed it open all the way to find Spencer on the loop ground with the unsub above him. They were pushing against eachother trying sway the barrel of the gun in their favor. Spencer was trying to push the barrel away from his head while the unsub did the opposite. Without hesitation y/n crossed the room and grabbed the unsub roughly by his shoulders throwing him away from spencer. Spencer took no time at all the scramble away, his feet sliding as he fumbled to push himself away.  Meanwhile y/n and the unsigned were in a struggle for the gun. And almost as if in slow mo, spencer saw a bullet leave the barrel and enter y/ns shoulder- right where his neck met his shoulders. The resounding bang that came with it caused spencers ears to ring. but caused everything to come back to normal speed was the second gunshot, from y/n to the unsubs chest. He fell to the ground, bleeding out. 

“Spencer! spencer i need you to put pressure on the wound- okay?” 

Despite the many filed first aid books he’d read, spencer couldnt recall a single bit of information- and was only listening y/n’s instructions. 

“alright now use my sweater- ya its right over there. We need something to stop the bleeding-“

Y/n interrupted himself with small grunts and grimaces every time his shoulder moved. But luckily spencer was in it enough to properly use the sweater y/n had provided.

At this point spencers hands were soaked in blood, and so was the sweater. It was warm, and sticky- drying and cracking on the back of his hands. Just then Morgan came storming in, a mix of swat and paramedics trailing behind him. A paramedic took the sweater from spencer’s hands and he was pulled away by Morgan to checked out- despite his protests. spencer was quite insistent he stay with y/n but Morgan settled him enough to get checked out by telling him that he would be updated if anything happened. 

Spencer stood in front of the open doors of an ambulance- restlessly wringing his hands together while an EMT patched the small gash on his forehead. Spencer had resisted saying anything about how he thought it was unnecessary- as it wasn’t even bleeding that much. But spencer knew better than to argue with Morgan at this point. 

Spencer practically ran- which he didn’t do very often- to the nearest large black SUV. As he walked/ran across the lawn he called out to morgan.

“St. Mary’s right?”

“on 32nd street-“

spencer didnt allow morgan to finish- instead climbing into one of the FBI vehicles littering the street. 

The fluorescent lights of the hospital burned spencers retinas as spoke the woman at the desk. 

“excuse me where is Y/n L/n’s room?’

as he spoke, spencer drummed his fingers against the desk- anxious to see y/n. Make sure he was okay. 

“Down the hall and to your left, room 328 sir”

Spencer barely managed a curt thank you and nod before he was speed walking down the hall. the lights in the hospital clashed with the stark white of the hall when spencer entered. They were dimmed to be only slightly brighter than the dark sky through the glass. spencer found y/n asleep soundly with a large bandage across his shoulder and butterfly bandages littering his exposed chest and face. Spencer could feel some of the weight lift off his shoulders when his eyes met y/ns closed ones. 

----

Despite the dim light it still took effort for y/n keep his eyes open once he woke up. The first thing he noticed was sleeping form of Spencer draped over an uncomfortable looking chair. His back and neck were bent forward in what looked to be a not very comfortable position to sleep in. 

Spencer stirred when y/n grunted quietly from the pain of sitting himself up. Spencer immediately rubbed the sleep from his eyes and went to help y/n, and as always y/n tried to tell Spencer he was fine and didn't need help. But y/n always made an exception for Spencer- especially he insisted with his innocent honey brown eyes. 

"Spence I'm fine bud- come sit with me"

Y/n had a smile on his face and patted the spot next to him which he had now made by scooching over. Spencer shyly climbed up next y/n, his slacks and blazer looking out of place to the hospital gown y/n was wearing. 

"You know you really scared me back there-"

Spencer was staring at his hands as he spoke- remembering the blood that had once coated them. Y/n took the opportunity to place a comforting comforting hand on Spencer's back, rubbing back and forth the way y/ns own family did. 

"I know- but you can't rid of me that easily bud"

They both laughed lightly at that and instead of responding verbally Spencer leaned his head on y/ns shoulder, appreciating the warmth of y/ns excess internal heat. Spencer was often the one to take advantage of the human heater of a person y/n was. And this was one of those moments. 

No more words were needed for the rest of the evening. They weren't needed for anything- the team could handle it (and it helped that Hotch knew how stressed Spencer was and let him know he could stay at the hospital with y/n). 

And there; in the dimly lit hospital room, that smelled of disinfectant, Spencer felt more comforted than in his own home. 

The End 

Pls leave a like and a reblog!

[multifandombullshitbabes]

the scene of morgan and reid tackling the rabies unsub is so good. whump derek? nice. reid panicking cuz he wants to save morgan but might just shoot him and not the unsub? great. reid tackling the guy morgan style? we love to see it. reid getting decked and immediately derek goes "oh hell no" and knocks the guy out no hesitation? delicious. and then reid stepping on the guy, gun at the ready, with a lil cut on his face? fuck yes. "nice tackle kid." "thanks, i've been working out a little."? don't mess with this duo, is all i'm gonna say

[honey-stars12318272]

just a bunch of incorrect criminal minds quotes

—————————————————————————————————— Morgan : Reid and I are no longer friends.

Reid: DEREK THAT IS THE WORST WAY TO TELL

PEOPLE THAT WE'RE DATING!

——————————————————————————————————

Reid: Being gay is a constant battle between "I wish to sit on a window bench with my lover, our legs tangling as we listen to the birds" and "Hey, let's go throw rocks at fascists" and I think that's very sexy of us.

Morgan: If the window's open and you time it right, you can do both.

——————————————————————————————————

Prentiss: Surgery is basically just stabbing someone to life.

Hotch: Please never become a surgeon.

——————————————————————————————————

Reid: BE A BETTER PERSON!

Morgan : WHY?!

Reid: BECAUSE SOMEONE NEEDS TO HAVE MORALS IN THIS RELATIONSHIP, AND IT SURE AS FUCK AIN'T GONNA BE ME, SWEETHEART!

——————————————————————————————————

Reid: Ugh, crushes are so dumb.

Morgan : I know. Whenever I'm near the person I like I just start acting stupid.

Reid: But you're always acting stupid?

Morgan : …

Morgan : Yeah, don't think about that too hard.

——————————————————————————————————

Morgan : My hands are cold.

Reid: Here, let me hold them.

Morgan: My lips are cold too.

Reid: *covers Morgan 's mouth with their hand*

——————————————————————————————————

Reid: Wow, Morgan, you want to hold my hand before marriage? How awfully lewd of you.

Morgan : We literally slept together yesterday.

Reid: That's NOTHING compared to the lewdness of holding hands.

——————————————————————————————————

Morgan : You got a date yet Reid?

Reid: No...

Morgan : Well you do now! Get your ass up and hold my hand!

——————————————————————————————————

Reid: We should get you to a doctor for a check up immediately. What if it happens again, and there isn't anyone around to help you? What if it's congenital? Oh my God! Was it me? Did I hurt you?

Morgan : …You realize any other person that made their partner pass out on bed would simply feel really proud of themselves, right?

——————————————————————————————————

Morgan : Reid is playing hard to get.

Morgan: Little does he know, I'm a master at playing hard to get rid of.

——————————————————————————————————

Morgan: Sorry I'm late, I was doing things.

Reid: Hi, I'm 'things'.

——————————————————————————————————

Hotch : You know, Morgen gives Reid flowers everyday, I wish you'd do that too.

Rossi: Okay?

*Later*

Rossi: *gives Reid flowers*

Reid: ???

Rossi: I don't know, I'm confused as well.

[pathologicalreid]

Ok, first of all, I'm OBSESSED. You understand Spencer as a character SO well!

Second of all, could I maybe request a part 2 to neophyte? Maybe where reader wakes up in the middle of the night from nightmares (seeing all the faces of those she killed, all the faces of those she couldn't save, or whatever else tickles your fancy) and reaches our to Spencer?

sympathy for the devil | S.R.

previously

Following your previous talk, a bad case leads to you taking Reid up on his offer to help.

who? spencer reid x platonic!BAU!reader category: angst content warnings: anxiety, exhaustion, nightmares, gore (cm), general cm violence, suicide word count: 1.71k a/n: do you remember that episode after m*eve dies where spencer tried to talk that guy out of offing himself? that's where i got the idea for this from. thank you for requesting! i hope you enjoy it!

At the shot of the gun, you launched into a sitting position. Placing your hand over your heart as if it would slow the pounding, you inhaled deeply through your nose.

Using the heels of your palms, you rubbed the sleep out of your eyes and groaned. That nightmare made three tonight alone, always the same, always Josh Quinn. Sighing, you pulled your loose t-shirt off of where it stuck to your clammy skin and got out of bed, walking into the kitchen to acquire a glass of water.

The team had started to notice your exhaustion. Just yesterday, Rossi had taken you for a coffee trip and tried to talk to you about it, but you just told him you were figuring it out. JJ tried to get you to go to a boxing class with her, but you could barely drag yourself out of bed for work, let alone to get your ass kicked.

You tried flipping through your scrapbook. When Spencer told you he hung the photos of people he had saved and victims above his bed, you decided to make a scrapbook.

But you didn’t save Josh Quinn, he killed himself. Blew his brains out right in front of you because you failed. You failed to talk him down off of that metaphorical ledge, and he killed himself.

Months ago, you talked to Spencer about how you had begun doubting your ability to do the job, and he convinced you otherwise. You wondered if he still thought the same. He was the only member of the team who hadn’t reached out to you, so you doubted that.

You swirled your water in the glass and sighed, it was three in the morning, and you had gotten approximately two hours of sleep. Assuming the team didn’t get called out to a case, you should be able to make it through the workday, but it had been almost two weeks since you traveled. You were pushing your luck.

Grabbing your phone off of the charger, you wandered to sit down on the couch. You scrolled through texts. Your mother, whom you had been neglecting to call back, was concerned. She threatened to call your boss, but she didn’t have Emily’s number.

For a split second, your thumb hovered over Spencer’s contact. You remembered what he had told you, ‘If you ever need help processing the job, or anything else, you can call.’

People said things all the time that they didn’t mean, but you were desperate, so you pressed the call button. On the first ring, you panicked and hung up. What were you thinking? It was three in the morning; you’d wake him up.

Dropping your phone in your lap, you set your face in your hands. You felt like you were finally losing it.

And then your phone started buzzing. Furrowing your brows, you looked at the screen to see that Reid was calling you back. Now it would be rude for you to not answer, so you swiped your thumb across the screen and brought your phone to your ear. “Hi,” you said meekly.

“Hey,” he responded, “What’s wrong?”

Your shoulders drooped, “There’s nothing wrong, I’m fine.”

He cleared his throat on the other end of the line, “You’re calling me at three fifteen in the morning. There’s something wrong, Y/N.”

Scowling, you pulled your feet up so that they were tucked underneath yourself. “I’m really sorry for waking you, Reid.”

“I wasn’t asleep. I was reading, had no idea what time it was,” he said to you. You weren’t sure if he was telling you the truth, or if he was just trying to make you feel better. “Are you alright?”

You closed your eyes tightly, “Yes,” you choked out the lie. “I’m fine.”

The other end of the call was quiet for so long that you checked to see if the call had dropped. “Hang on, I’m coming over,” he said.

“Uh, no, please don’t do that,” You spoke urgently.

There was a jingling that came through the phone, probably car keys, “Something is blatantly wrong, and you aren’t telling me what it is. If I’m there in person, you might be more willing to talk to me.”

Or maybe you’d feel forced to talk to him. You bit your tongue, “Okay, Spencer.”

Fifteen minutes later, there was a gentle knock on your door. You coaxed yourself off of the couch and to the door, opening it and crossing your arms in front of your chest self-consciously.

Wordlessly, you opened the door wider, effectively inviting Spencer in. He was dressed similarly to you, in a plain t-shirt and pajama pants. His glasses were donned upon his nose, you had forgotten he even wore glasses. Once he was inside, you shut the door behind him, and he set his things on the entryway table.

Matching your closed-off stance, he looked at you suspiciously, “What is going on with you?” He asked.

You had wholly expected his tone to be accusatory, but instead, it dripped with concern. Concern for you. Your face fell, “I don’t know,” you whispered. “I don’t know,” you said a little louder that time.

“When did it start?” He asked, gently ushering you over to your couch, he had you sit down before sitting in the armchair across from you.

Shrugging, you absentmindedly picked at the skin surrounding your nails. “Josh Quinn,” you muttered.

Slowly, realization dawned on Spencer’s features. “That wasn’t your fault,” he told you sincerely. “Are you listening to me?”

You nodded softly, “I couldn’t save him,” you rasped, your face crumpling as you did. The last thing you wanted to do was cry in front of Reid, and yet, there you were. “I tried; I thought that if I could just make him see what I saw that… He was only seventeen.” He had killed three of his classmates, but he didn’t need prison or to die. He was a kid, he needed someone to hug him and tell him it would be okay.

“Do you trust me?” Spencer asked.

The question threw you for a moment. “Of course,” you trusted Spencer. You trusted the entire team with your life. You couldn’t be a team without that kind of trust.

His mouth tightened for a moment, “Then trust me when I tell you that no one could have talked him out of killing himself.” You weren’t sure you had ever seen Spencer so serious.

You leaned back, letting your body meld into your couch cushions, “You could have.”

Spencer shook his head, “No, Y/N. I heard everything you told him. You did everything right; I would’ve said the exact same things.” His eyes studied your body language for a moment, “Once a person makes that decision, there is a point of no return. Quinn made that decision, and there was nothing you could’ve done or said to change his mind.”

Trying to understand what he was telling you, you nodded softly. “I killed him,” you murmured.

“No, you didn’t,” Spencer corrected you immediately, leaning forward, he rested his elbows on his knees.

Your brows narrowed, “I might as well have. He might still be alive if I had done something different.” Pulling your knees to your chest, you took a shaky breath.

Following him with your eyes as he moved, Spencer sat next to you on the couch. “Did you pull the trigger?”

“No, but-“ you started.

“Then there’s nothing else to it. You didn’t kill him. His blood is not on your hands, do you understand me?” He said sternly.

Begrudgingly, you nodded in response. “I don’t know what to do,” you whispered helplessly. “I see him when I sleep, his brain all over the walls. It’s…” you faltered, “it’s haunting me.”

Spencer gave you a moment before responding, “Your ability to feel so much sympathy toward people like Quinn is what makes you such a great agent – a great profiler” He told you earnestly.

You shrugged, “The firearm’s instructor at the academy told me that my sympathy would get me killed in the field.”

“Well, if the firearm’s instructor at the academy hasn’t changed in the last fourteen years, then he’s an ass,” he told you.

A small laugh escaped your lips, surprising you as much as it did Spencer. “I’m glad that’s a universal experience,” you responded as the silence between you shifted from awkward to comfortable. “Thanks for coming,” you whispered.

Spencer smiled at you, “You’re welcome, but why did you take so long to call?” He inquired.

“What do you mean?” You asked, leaning forward, and resting your chin on your knees.

He sighed, “That case was almost two weeks ago, Y/N. If you haven’t been sleeping for two weeks, that’s a problem. Why didn’t you call?” He repeated quizzically.

Shrinking back into yourself, you frowned, “I was embarrassed and tired. I wanted to try to figure it out on my own before I went to someone else.”

“You’re not alone, you know?” Spencer said, his voice was gentle like you were a wild animal that he was trying not to spook. “Wait, you do know we’re friends, right?” He asked, “We aren’t just coworkers, we’re friends. Everyone in the BAU is your friend, whether you like it or not.”

Turning to face him, “I know we’re friends, Spencer. Coworkers don’t just show up at each other’s apartments because one of them is having a hard time.” Maybe you didn’t realize how good of friends, but it certainly brought you some semblance of comfort to know that you had people in your corner.

You watched as Spencer pulled out his phone, his fingers nimbly typing on the keypad of his artifact of a phone.

“What are you doing?” You asked, being nosy and trying to read what he was typing out.

He kept typing, tilting the screen away from your view, “I’m telling Emily that you’re sick and taking the day off.”

Your lips parted in surprise, “Spencer!” You reached out for his phone, but he lifted it over his head, having already sent the text. “Do you have younger siblings?” You asked.

Spencer shook his head, “No, only child. Why?”

“Because you act a lot like an older brother,” you grumbled.

previously

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