#thank god for spencer reid

[seraphimnoir]

elle isn't his girlfriend BUT ..

elle isn't his girlfriend but she listens to his ramblings. she is the first person to listen to him not cause she feels bad if she doesn't, she actually is interested — even if it's the most mundane thing

elle isn't his girlfriend but she tries teaching him spanish, laughing at his pronunciation and teasing him to no end. making him say flirtatious phrases and love confessions in spanish — although he doesnt understand what he's saying (elle makes him say all those things because she actually wants to hear them from him)

elle isn't his girlfriend but she has his go-to meals memorized

elle isn't his girlfriend but she organizes his desk before he comes to work, leaving little notes of appreciation/reminders over his incompleted files

elle isn't his girlfriend but his mother thinks they are engaged

elle isn't his girlfriend but she remembers every single quirk and detail about him, even ones he doesn't even know about

elle isn't his girlfriend but she asks him out on valentine's, both of them brushing it off as just a friendly date

elle isn't his girlfriend but she is always around him, wherever he is she's always there. beside him, behind him, Infront of him.

elle isn't his girlfriend but she waits for him to exit/enter the building together

elle isn't his girlfriend but she wishes she was

I saw someone do this with spenc x reader a long time ago and I decided to do this but with spencelle wheheooooo I don't remember the person's user so if you know PLEASE! let me know

[only-one-brain-cell]

I love that in 4x7 Penelope was like oh my god your dad has been looking out or you look he even has your dissertation! Spence’s just like oh THANK GOD he GOOGLED ME! THATS LOWER THEN THE BARE MINIMUM! I had to take care of my mother at the age of ten but he GOOGLED ME!

[redwithjoon]

"Haley wants me to sign the divorce papers uncontested."

"You don't want to...?"

Ultimately uneventful :/

HotchxReid

Word count: 8k

Just filth - NSFW!!!

An insanely stressed Hotch was ready to fight an inmate and is currently giving Spencer a seminar about how his wife wants a divorce pronto. Spencer decides that this just can't be and takes matters into his own hands. Quite literally. Oh, and he also finds out that his boss has a weirdly specific kink??

Read on Ao3

I come bearing food: @observaureium, @gay-in-a-jar, @castielryan

Have fun ↓

=

"Haley wants me to sign the divorce papers uncontested." 

There it is. 

Spencer has been silently wondering why his boss 'escalated the situation' by losing his patience and was about to fistfight a whole serial killer so easily. Hotch had faced down more unreasonable, violent unsubs in the past, but for some reason, the moment he was baited by that man, he instantly snapped. 

"So we don't waste money on lawyers." 

Well, that'll do it. Having your wife screaming you down over the phone about how she wants you to officially divorce her already was obviously not an ideal start of the day but it can't just be that, can it? His boss is ridiculously pent up, and it's not like he had anyone to bitch to. After a few seconds, Spencer realized that Hotch wants some kind of response to his almost-confession but he's still unsure of what to say… like he literally has no fucking idea what Hotch wants him to do? Reassure him that it was going to be okay? Tell him that he's a good man either way? 

"You don't want to…?" Well, yeah obviously.

Hotch continues to randomly complain to him about his problem with his soon-to-be ex-wife and Reid just lets him be, trying to help him by giving responses he thinks would calm him down and make him feel the slightest bit better but there's only so much he can say. 

And to make it even worse, now they're stuck in traffic. In an absolutely insane traffic. 

Hotch subtly asks the taxi driver next to their car what exactly is happening and the driver just sighs. "I dunno, there's apparently a car crash not too far from here. They're rerouting the cars but…" 

"It'll take a while." Hotch thanks the man and rolls his windows back up. 

Christ. What can they do? Hotch is already irritated and now they have this. And the burden is not just mentally, Hotch has been driving for a while now and Spencer knows it's usually nothing for the man but it's a bit more tiring when you're stressing out about your imminent divorce, huh? 

Like a good friend, Spencer just listens to him, he listens, he listens, and he listens. 

But, fuck… there's only so much passive-aggressive talk about Haley that he can take.

"Are you tired?" Spencer cuts off Hotch in the middle of his mumbled rant, Hotch was talking about custody or something and Spencer has been listening long enough that he feels like he could be a divorce lawyer too by now. 

"Not really." 

"Well, I'm tired, it's the uh, the heat, you know, and I'm still a bit shaken from before." He is not shaken from before, but he'll say whatever it takes to get the hell out of this car. 

Hotch's previous potential outlet, a literal full-on fistfight, has been taken from him and now it has nowhere to go, no relief from the frustration. Too bad that they're not in the FBI's training room where Hotch can go berserk in shredding rubber dummies. 

"I see. We can pull over, but there's still no place to rest." 

Right. Ah… think, Spencer, think. You may not be under intense terror anymore and can't do your best work, but you need to come up with something. 

Hm… what will he do when he needs to let out stress– wait, no, not him, what would guys like Hotch do when he needs to let out stress other than sweating it out? Reid is tempted to just tell him to do laps but then a sudden realization hits him like lightning, so fast and shocking that he almost jumps on his seat. 

There's another way to sweat things out, right? 

But that won't do, does that even exist in Hotch's list of options of stress relief? Workout? Deep meditation? And…? 

"Hotch, do you want to rest? There's uh… well, there's a hotel there." Spencer points at a discreet-looking hotel. Hm… too discreet in fact with its own parking lot and everything. 

Hotch blinked. If it's any other hotel, he'll just chalk it up to Spencer needing that sweet coolness of AC and some subpar dining. But that's not that kind of hotel, is it? 

"That's not a proper hotel, Reid." Perhaps his subordinate just doesn't understa–

"I know." 

Of course he knows. Look, he knows a lot of stuff, a lot, some of them irrelevant, but even he knows that that is a love hotel, a short-stay hotel to be exact, paid by the hour for obvious fucking reasons. Hotch knows, he knows, he's just offering. 

It's silent for a while and Spencer's hyper brain is already thinking of dozens of different ways on how he would be fired (he's up to 57 potential scenarios by now), but shockingly…

Shockingly, Hotch makes a left turn, he drives down the rather empty road and parks into the almost-hidden parking lot. Quiet, discreet, just everything you need to make sure no one sees you come and leave. 

Hotch turns off the engine and Spencer is just… he's waiting for Hotch to unlock the car. He's nervous. Sure, he was the one that offered Hotch to stay in a love hotel for a few hours with the obviously very unprofessional, potentially damaging suggestions, but he's still nervous, okay? He just… wants to get Hotch's mind off of this downright spiral he is on and he's not the best in– 

"Are you sure?" Hotch's voice is as calm as ever, if Reid isn't a profiler he would've missed the slight tremble on his voice.

"…No one has to know." 

"No, Reid, are you sure you also want this…?" 

Yeah, Reid, do you want to fuck your boss? His brain is taunting him, asking him why he's offering sex to his boss but then again, why did his boss accept, hm? Why did he even consider the idea? He's not the only one in the wrong here. 

"I…" He clears his throat. "Can you just unlock the car…?" He could hear the door unlocked, Spencer walks out first, still looking everywhere but at Hotch. "…Do you have cash?" 

"Yes." 

"Okay. Good. So um, we're… good?" 

"Good." 

Spencer wants to scream from all the one-word answers. Of all times can Hotch just sound less formal? Just once, can he sound less formal when they’re literally going to have real sexual intercourse? 

…probably not, huh? 

The less they talk the better. Reid wants to hiss the moment they walk into their room, the thought of how dirty this room must be even though it looks perfectly clean considering the purpose of such accommodations but he pushes through it. 

Okay. Now that they’re here, uh… what should they do first? 

Spencer almost jumped when Hotch walk past him and sits on the bed. The first time they finally lock eyes with each other, as if creating a silent agreement, Reid lightly nods and put his bag on the chair. Okay, no thinking, (no bitching about divorce too,) only uh… only…

Okay, class? What should we do first? 

That's the limit on how his brain is functioning right now, thinking about what should they do first? What should he say to his boss? Should he, like, give him options? List out the menu like he's a waiter just asking when he wants for lunch? 

Hotch hasn't said anything and it's unnerving to be honest. 

Spencer sighs comically loud before he decides he might as well chose for him, if Hotch doesn't know what he wants then they just do whatever they can do. 

It's not like Hotch doesn't know what he wants. 

When Spencer turns around to grab something from his bag, Hotch can't help but watch and linger his eyes on Spencer's body. 

He admits that he has never, in the years and years of them working together, thought of Spencer as sexy. One part of it must be from the fact that he had started working with Spencer since he was a lanky, nervous 21-year-old who looked like a kid straight out of highschool. He never really noticed the change until now. 

Hell, even the word 'sexy' doesn't seem to fit him at all, with Reid always dressing up so conservatively. 

He always, always dressed like that, the only casual clothes Hotch had ever seen him in is his standard academy uniform and some shirt he wears strictly when the summer heat just gets too much. Even then he would wear short sleeves button up. 

Suddenly he remembers how surprised he was when one scorching hot day, he saw Reid with his long hair tied in a ponytail with the first two buttons of his shirt undone. It's not… he's not showing any excessive skin, the buttons didn't even show anything that can't be compared to Prentiss' shirt but it just looked… vulgar. It looked so vulgar merely because of the rarity of it. He remembered for a second that he almost looked away, like it's not something decent or proper for his eyes but then he remembered how illogical that is. 

That's something he didn't remember till now but it comes back at full force right this minute, when Reid bends down just the slightest bit to rummage through his bag to get…  

It's ridiculous how hot it is when Spencer pulls out a hair tie from the bag's tiny pouch, the man reaching back to gather his neck-long, perfectly curled hair. It's ridiculous how he feels himself getting more and more aroused just to see Spencer unbutton his cufflinks. 

The fact that he feels some kind of excitement seeing Spencer struggling to pluck his cufflinks off…

He needs to stop thinking and just enjoy it. Besides, isn't this Spencer's idea? Is he not in the wrong? Hotch's brain desperately needs some kind of justification as to why he's weirdly turned on already. 

Spencer, still pouting as he struggled with his right cuff, started walking towards Hotch. 

Spencer decides that he is going to straddle his lap, almost like he's used to if even. He only paused for a second, as if contemplating for the last time if he's going through with this or not but decides that there's no backing out now and he slowly starts to climb on his boss' lap. 

Spencer is nervous but he knows what he's doing. 

…Hotch doesn't know why that ticked him off, not in a sense that he hates what Spencer is doing, but in a sense that it shows this is Not Spencer's first time. 

Is it absurd of him to expect this 27 year old man to be… a totally inexperienced person? And why he finds himself feeling the smallest bit of disappointment when he realized Spencer isn't a fumbling, blushing mess. He's not aggressive in any way, still pretty much the Spencer that he knows, and yet. 

He got pulled out of his mind when he hears a relieved, tiny laugh as Spencer finally got the cuffs of his shirt off, then those same hands hold Hotch's shoulder, using them to brace himself as he tries to get comfortable on Hotch's lap, moving his knees subtly here and there on each side of Hotch's thighs to minimize discomfort, he expected Hotch to help him but–

Spencer feels hands on his waist to… push him away? 

The 'rejection' puzzles him greatly, looking down at the older man with the same pout, just more confused this time. "You don't like it…?"

"I do." Well. Then why? Spencer wants to ask when Hotch fully push him off his lap, making him stand up again. Hotch's hands are still holding Spencer's waist and Spencer could still feel the desire if the way Hotch's fingers are pretty much massaging his waist is something to go by so he isn't sure why the man is pushing him away. 

"I… like how you look unbuttoning your cuffs." 

The little confession made Spencer gasps ever so slightly. Hotch is actually talking to him about what he wants? Really? 

"I'd like to see you strip everything down yourself, if that's not too uncomfortable for you." 

Oh, how careful this man is. Reid offered sex and Hotch still asks if he's uncomfortable, truly a gentleman.

"I can do that. Do you want me to do it slow?" Spencer doesn't fucking know how to do a strip tease but he's good at improvising (as they both just saw) so he's sure he can do it right. Hotch's brows furrow in contemplation, he's also not sure what he wants but… he has an idea. "That's not necessary, I like it more if you do it casually."

"Casually?" 

"How you would strip when you're in private, like your bedroom for example. When you strip for a shower or to simply change clothes." 

"Oh… okay, then." That's a relief, though it is a weird request is it not? Act like he's at home? As if he's just relaxing alone? …Like doesn't know he's being watched? Hm… is that a kink? Is it, in and of itself, something sexual? 

Reid decides that he's thinking too much about it and thinking isn't what both of them want right now, right? 

Rarely has Hotch ever been this focused in anything other than work. He follows those trimmed, slim fingers slowly unbutton the rest of the dark, almost black cardigan off. Was it slow? He wasn't doing it slow, was he? No, he wasn't, he was undoing them normally so it might be Hotch's brain that's working slow. Not just his eyes, his ears also seem to be hyper aware to the slightest sound, because he got pulled out of his thoughts by the sound of Spencer's rolled up cardigan being tossed to the hotel's lone sofa, it feels like he could hear the lightest sound of the silk tie (always coloured or patterned) being unfurled easily by a single tug. 

Is he sweating? Because Hotch feels his body temperature going up for some unknown reason. (He knows the reason is arousal but he refuses to recognize how easy it is to get him hard.) 

Spencer then unbutton his white shirt one by one, this time he folds them a little neater before putting them on top of the cardigan. He's wearing a thin, loose tank top undergarments underneath. God, just how many layers does this man wear on the daily? Again, for some 'unknown' reason, Hotch finds that arousing. Probably because of how conservatively Spencer always dresses and he is probably one the only ones that gets to see his skin, because of that tank top, even if Spencer sweats or gets wet, no one can see his chest, his nipples or belly button. Yet he can.  

Hotch almost jumps when he hears the slightest frustrated groan as Spencer struggles to unbuckle his belt, eyes looking down and his lips pouting in focus. Wait, what? No. No, don't do that, get rid of that tank top first. Hotch is screaming on the inside, just one thin layer of cotton fabric and he could finally see his bare upper body. God, why is he being a tease?

Well, maybe he isn’t being a tease, maybe this is just how he– 

Can't think, Hotch can't think when he hears the thump of the belt buckle hitting the floor, Spencer accidentally dropping it, he picking it up and spun it into a circle. Hotch thinks he must look like a creep, eyes focused on every millisecond hearing that typical unzipping sound as Spencer pulls down his zipper. Pants pushed down to the floor and Spencer stepped out of it one foot at the time. 

There's something about this, he's not doing it to seduce Hotch, just like he requested, Reid just stripped like he's at home going to change from his work clothes to something more comfortable, no moving his hips or ever looking at his boss. Spencer is wearing a loose, bright blue underwear, his habit of wearing colourful clothes underneath all his formal look is endearing, especially seeing those mismatched socks, moss green with a star pattern on the left, orange with red stripes on the right. 

Spencer pulls off his tank top, unfurling his hair along with it, he bends down and was about to pull off his socks when– 

"Wait– what– wait!!" Spencer stumbles when Aaron suddenly stands up from the bed, his hands gripping Spencer's bare waist and manhandling a bit too roughly and it caught the younger man off guard. He lets out a surprised huff when Hotch shoves him on the bed on his stomach, gasping when he feels Hotch on top of him, trapping Spencer with both his knees on the sides of his thighs. 

He knows it's ridiculous, but Spencer felt the slightest bit of fear knowing that Aaron can just… do anything to him if he wants, he knows his boss won't hurt him of course, but the fact that Spencer is hanging on the belief that Aaron is a Good Person still makes his heart beat faster. 

Spencer hears the sound of zipper being undone, Hotch stripping on top of him impatiently. Oh… he wants to see that too… it isn't fair? How is it that Aaron gets to see everything while he's trapped on the bed? 

Reid swallow his silent protests when he feels Aaron's lips on his neck. 

This is the first time Hotch ever touched him more than hugging him and dragging him by the hand when he almost got shot for the 5th time because he thought it was a good idea to talk down an unsub without his vest on. Hotch is touching him and Spencer is dead silent about it, his mind still trying to wrap around the idea that he's basically naked under his boss who's stripping patiently. 

"Hotch– Aa…" 

"Aaron." Hotch finishes for him. "It's okay, Spencer." Reid didn't reply, squeezing the pillow under him viciously when Aaron grip each side of his underwear and tugging them down so roughly that Spencer hissed out loud at the feeling.

"I'm sorry…" Hotch's voice is so low, so… just so… It's doing things to reid and suddenly he doesn't really mind anymore. 

"It's okay…" at least Hotch is nice when he takes off his socks, it's sweet even, how he bends his legs and pulls them off one by one. Then, as Spencer suspected, Hotch rolls him to his back, the first time Reid is facing him when he's properly aroused. "Hey…" he whispers, pulling on Hotch's shirt collar, whispering at Aaron to take his clothes off first. And he does, but still when he's on top of Reid, when he keeps eye contact that makes the other squirm. 

He had never seen Aaron naked before, Spencer tracing his fingers on the old scars peppered on his body, to the little beauty marks on his neck and chest, and, aha… Aaron has a lot of body hair, a lot, it tickles him a bit and he just knows he's gonna get some kind of chafing later. 

"What, um… what do you wanna do…?" Spencer mumbles as he strokes Aaron's arm, going up to his neck and shoulder, sighing when he feels Aaron nuzzling his neck and his jaw… "I'll do whatever you want." Spencer adds. "Just… can't go all the way." 

Penetrative sex is a painful thing, at least at first, and it's unsaid but both of them are tired from the day's work and Hotch is mentally exhausted from all the stress. 

Spencer whispers to Aaron that hotels like these usually have condoms and lube stashed on the bedside drawer and he's right, but despite all that, it'll still gonna take a long while. Spencer would have to clean up, they both have to take things slow, foreplay that could take minutes till hours since that's what Spencer needs if he doesn't want to be a rigid, awkward mess. And both of them don't have the energy for that. What should they do, then…? 

Spencer reach around blindly until he finds the bottle of lube and squeezed a considerable amount into his hand, he hesitantly pulls Hotch into a soft kiss again when his hand move down ever so slowly until he finally wraps his slick, slippery fingers around Hotch's straining erection. 

"Sorry–" Spencer whispers between their kisses when he hears Hotch hissing loudly. "Sorry it's cold…" he has nothing to be sorry about but he gets sensitive during sex, sometimes he's extremely cheeky and insufferable and sometimes he gets just a little too soft and this is the latter. 

"Don't," Hotch replies, Reid is slowly stroking his cock, squeezing hard at the base and lightening up at the tip just how he likes it. Huh, how did Reid know what he likes? 

Hotch's hand moved from softly caressing his back to Spencer's shoulder, basically shoving him down on the bed, Spencer gasped in surprise when he– "Ah! Aaron, I– fuck…" Aaron shoved his hand away, hooking his hands on Spencer's thighs, spreading them, and hooking them on his waist as he forcefully grinds down on Spencer's groin. 

It feels so– it feels so good, it feels so fucking good, holy shit. Aaron is grinding down on him, squeezing Spencer's erection between their bodies, the fast, heavy stroke milking his cock from the mere friction alone. It feels good but it also fucking hurts, fucking Hotch and his fucking body hair, it's just everywhere! It scratches and tickles his skin and it– fuck, don't stop, don't stop, don't– "No…" Spencer groans loudly into their kiss when Aaron stops. 

Why the hell did he do that? What the hell is his problem!? He–

"I'm sorry–" Hotch blurts out. "I’m– I'm sorry, I have to stop…" He knows he pissed off his younger partner, but… "Had to stop, I was already close." 

Wait, "What…?" Spencer doesn't want to sound rude but he's actually caught off guard, they've only been doing this for a few minutes, so why? 

"It's you," Hotch whispers yet again, his voice is so soft, he must also feel humiliated to some degree. "I've never done this with a man before and there's just something about you…" Hotch started kissing his jaw, Spencer twitching from the feeling of Aaron's lips lingering on his skin, parting his mouth as he lick and suck in the softest way possible because Spencer has an inkling that Aaron’s a bit possessive when it comes to sex and he's fighting with every nerve in his body not to leave painful, glaring hickeys all over his partner aka him. 

Something… about him? Because he's a man or because he's Spencer? 

"It's okay," Spencer said, trying to sound as casual as possible. "We can just…" Spencer pushes Aaron away from his body, sure Spencer is loving all the kisses but he also needs something else. 

He slowly turns around and lays on his stomach, his legs spread wide as an obvious invitation that Hotch readily accepts, taking only a second before he slots himself between those thighs, his hands rubbing from Spencer's hips, waist and back slowly, going up and down in a firm, almost painful strokes with how deep Aaron is digging his thumb on his skin. 

"Can't do too much, Aaron, but I don't mind." Spencer is driving him crazy, Hotch is completely sure Spencer is doing this on purpose because those long, bony fingers of his are reaching back slowly spreading his cheeks apart till his rim strains, "Use me…" 

Use– Fuck, Hotch is so pissed off at the fact that Spencer knows, he knows this is driving him crazy yet he does it anyway, baiting Hotch to completely let loose and just, use him. If he can't fuck him, he can grind on him like Spencer’s just a toy, that's what he’s implying and Hotch is going to do just that. 

Hotch grabs both his wrists and forces them both to the pillow again. "Keep them there, don't you move." Spencer nods, he can do that, bringing his hands in and tucking it on his chest. 

He hissed when he smells latex and feels Hotch's thumb rubbing the liquid roughly between his cheeks, making sure that he's slick till the bottom, Spencer shudders when Hotch absentmindedly start massaging his perineum with his thumb, making Spencer whines as quietly as possible into his hand, it's nothing overwhelming, it just feels good.

Hotch stops much to Spencer's disappointment, but then he feels Hotch on top of him. Not just above him, he feels Hotch's body on top of him. Feels his chest on his back, feels his full weight trapping his body down. But that's not even close to the overwhelming feeling he gets after. 

Hotch shoved his cock between his cheeks and started grinding him down so hard that even with the lube, Spencer could still feel the burn of the movement, how his cock would drag low and slow and then push back up again, Spencer feeling his body being trapped by Hotch, how his damn heavy weight is making it hard to breathe but Aaron is enjoying himself and Spencer doesn’t want to stop that. Christ, he could feel how big Aaron is just by grinding on him, could feel his rim rubbed by the tip of his heated, rock hard erection, so hot and veiny, just… it makes him wonder if it'll even fit in him?

"Aaron–" Spencer gasps when he feels Hotch's fingers digging into his back, leaving white marks from his shoulders to the dip between his thighs, those same hands squeezing his ass painfully hard, grabbing them so roughly that Spencer can't handle it, one hand reaching back frantically only to have it pinned down on the bed, unable to wiggle them free no matter how hard he tries to get away. "Aaron, please…" 

There's a pause, Spencer gasping when Aaron starts kissing the side of his head, down to his cheek, his ear, damnit. "Shh… it's alright, Spencer. It’s alright." Alright, he said, but he didn't let up. 

Though he finally, oh god, finally… lift himself up and bracing himself on his elbows, finally letting the younger one breathe properly, letting Spencer's hand go. He can't blame Aaron though, he doesn't want to because he said it himself didn't he? Use me. And Aaron is doing just that. 

Aaron pulls apart his cheeks with his thumbs even more, enough to make Spencer hiss and grip the pillow tighter. 

It feels good for Aaron though, even better than before, he could get himself more snug in there as he continues to grind down on him. Fuck, he could just… feel his hole whenever he pulls back before thrusting up again. And this, this lust inside of him is infecting his brain with all sorts of sinful thoughts. 

He could do it, Hotch thinks. He could spread Spencer's legs apart and make him take it, he could pin him down, Hotch knows he's strong enough for that. Pin his back down with his body, pin his arms and wrist down with a forceful grip, use his legs to pin his calves in place and he could just make Spencer take his fucking cock, just take it, take it, take it. Just shut up and–

Wait, hold on, what was he thinking? What kind of depraved imagination did he come up with? Hotch got rid of those thoughts off of his head instantly. 

But he can't deny that this is so good that his mind is having trouble processing it. The way his precum is making it easier to slide his cock up and down, to grind in harder and harder, he could feel every single fucking time how the tip of his cock would brush past his hole, and it– fuck, it feels good, for some reason even something as simple as feeling Spencer clench under him every time is making his mind thought of those horrible things. He feels shameful, completely appalled by his wretched thoughts of forcing Spencer. 

For some kind of reassurance, Hotch suddenly kissed Spencer's neck, making the younger one's breath hitch under him, Spencer's thighs shaking a bit when Hotch parts his lips, mouth sucking on the spot, way too wet for a hickey while his teeth ever so slowly push and drags on Spencer's skin. Only when Spencer whimpers did he stop. That didn't last long though because Hotch starts doing the same thing to his shoulder down to his shoulder blade, all the while he hasn’t stopped grinding down on Spencer. 

It's almost embarrassing how quickly he feels his orgasm brewing, how his breathing gets heavier, his body more tense, Spencer could barely move from how hard Hotch is holding him.

Spencer is hurting; Aaron is squeezing his arms so tight that it turns his fingers white, he kept thrusting so hard that Spencer feels the sensitive skin around his rim randomly stinging with every pull, and to be completely honest, Aaron's weight on top of him is making it hard to breathe. Though Spencer doesn't tell him to stop and is not planning to, he knows Hotch is nearing his orgasm, knows that if he breaks that momentum, he would probably feel too sensitive to continue, or his orgasm might not end up as satisfying and that's the last thing Spencer wants. This all starts with him trying to make Hotch feel so good he'll forget about his, uh, absolutely ruined marriage, for an hour or so, and he’s going to do just that. 

Spencer's a man too, it happens so quickly that despite being prepared, it still surprises him nonetheless. Because Hotch suddenly freezes, Spencer feels hot semen staining his lower back right after and he shivers with disgust. But it's fine, after a few seconds and a few more drops of warm come wetting his skin, he knows that Hotch is done. 

Now finally flaccid, Hotch slowly moves off of him, rolling to his back to take deep breaths. Spencer's waist and thighs are aching, the skin between his cheeks and especially around the rim starts stinging from the burn of previous friction, he desperately wants to just roll back and heave in some breaths but he can't fucking do that, can he? He's not going to smear this whole bedsheet with his boss' drying semen. Christ, this is both humiliating and irritating. 

Spencer pushes himself off the bed, still pretty much erect as he stands on wobbly legs, carrying the damp towel with him. He didn’t look back at Aaron once as he stumbled his way into the bathroom. 

Well. They finished what they set out to do, right? Spencer tosses the towel to the laundry bin and walk inside the shower, making sure that the water is hot before stepping into it. 

Spencer squeaked from the sudden stream, gasping in pleasure as the water relieved some of his tension. He reached back to, ugh, rub the slippery semen off his back, it just feels… wrong but the water cleaned it up so it's fine. 

His head thumps lightly on the wall, wondering what the hell he's doing. 

Whatever though, he's still turned on and hard and that's really numbing his critical thinking. 

The bathroom reverberates his moans when he wraps his fingers around himself, pumping up and down his length in an impatient manner. He just wants to fucking get off already so he can function normally again. 

It's a love hotel, these things are bound to happen, right? So he doesn't care if he's letting out sounds here and there, he's not being super loud and fuck it, if he wants to jerk off in the shower he'll fucking do it. 

His other hand hits the wall and curls into a fist, his mouth breathing hard on the tiles, he's not sure what's dripping down his chin anymore, is it water or spit? He spread his legs carefully, making sure he won't fucking slip and bust his head or something but he needs to thrusts into his hands, it feels good. It feels so, so good…

The hot water is fogging up the shower's glass and mirror outside and he couldn't care less. His hand moving from the walls to the glass, his shaking palm wiping up the fog, he's almost bouncing on his legs now with how good it feels and how much he wants to get off. 

Oh god, he's going to come, he's going to come– he's right there! Right– he just needs a few more minutes, just a little more… a little… 

"Spencer?" 

Fuck. 

He gasped loudly and had to bite down a loud groan from his frustration. Great, Aaron is here, just when he was about to come, that's just–

"Aaron…?" Reid whispers when he feels the shower's glass door being opened, the older man slowly stepping inside. Spencer… he knows what's happening but it's really hard to think right now, not with Hotch pulling him off the wall, not with him pushing Spencer on the glass door, not with Spencer feeling just how fucking hot the surface is. All that is forgotten when Hotch presses his back to his chest, kissing and pecking Spencer's neck and shoulder again as his hand rubs his waist roughly, his hips, his upper thigh, his– 

"Aaron! Aaron… oh god… fuck…" 

Spencer's forehead thump on the glass, lips bitten down and his face scrunch up in pleasure. It does feel different when someone else is jerking you off, someone who has the same sex as you, who knows just how to pull, tug and squeeze just right. Spencer feels his eyes rolling back, his eyelids fluttering close, mouth open in a silent gasp. 

Hotch grips his erection harder and Spencer keens, feeling his thumb pushing down on the tip with each fast stroke, would rub up and down his prominent vein and his slit and– 

"AH!! AARON– MORE, YES, yes just like that, oh god, god, faster, faster! More, goddamnit, I'm so close, I'm so close, baby, just like that… just–" 

Hotch's brain glitched for a second there. Reid's the type that slips in nicknames when he's having sex, huh? Well, he isn't sure what to do with that information, but it's sexy, god, that sounds so sexy. 

"Baby, yeah, more, oh god, Aaron, I'm gonna–"

When Spencer's body twitches hard and freezes, Hotch squeezes his cock oh so painfully tight, all hard and fast till he fucking comes in his hand, nails dragging hopelessly on the slippery surface, staining the glass and his fingers. 

He strokes him through his orgasm, then he lightens up ever so slowly, only letting go when Spencer's soft in his hand and so very, very satisfied…

It took the younger a couple of seconds to truly get himself back to earth. It was so fucking good that if he isn't so exhausted he would've loved a second round. Despite the orgasm, his brain is still numb from pleasure so it's not really his fault is it? When he turns around, humming and curling his hands around Hotch's shoulder, when he leans in close, so close that he's sure Hotch would pull back and push him away but… he's playing along? 

Their foreheads pressed together, both of them breathing hard, lips just a breath apart. "Thanks…" Spencer whispers. "That felt so good…"

And Spencer, Spencer was about to fucking kiss his boss when– wait. 

Wait– Fuck. Fuck, this is his boss. This is Aaron…

Spencer quickly pulls away as the haze passes, looking everywhere but Hotch's eyes. He sounds stupid trying to make excuses why he needs to shower alone but Hotch seems to understand, washing himself under the stream quickly before walking out. 

Spencer's left alone again and for a second he just stands there unmoving. Yeah, so… that happened.

=

Spencer feels awkward when he walks out only wearing a towel to see Hotch who's already fully dressed. Spencer, at the speed of light, managed to get his singlet and underwear on, he wants to put on the rest of his clothes too but he actually has long hair and he needs to blow dry them first. 

Hotch didn’t say anything, it would’ve been creepy if Spencer doesn't know his boss well enough to know that he's just… thinking. At least Spencer made him think of something else other than the divorce papers, right? Mission accomplished? Wow, he's trying to make this less awkward but it's not happening. 

The only brush he has is the flimsy one he got from the bathroom so it was a nightmare getting his hair to settle down, they always bounce back every time he tries to straighten them so he just gives up, putting the rest of his clothes back on. 

Hotch is trying, and failing, not to focus on Spencer dressing up, it feels… It feels weirdly disappointing when he sees Spencer almost fully dressed. He noticed how the younger is looking around for his belt and Hotch picks it up for him, hidden under the chair. 

"Thanks– I, um…" Spencer really doesn't know what to say when Hotch, without asking, starts putting his belt on for him. 

His fingers slowly pulling the tip after every loop, it feels kinda rough but nothing too hard. He buckled it up for him, Spencer doesn’t even realize how close they're standing now. 

Okay. So, that's weird. But when Hotch was about to step back, Spencer clears his throat to get his attention. "Hey, Hotch, uh, here." Spencer hands him the folded tie. "Put this on for me too." 

Oh, Spencer surprised himself with how bold he is, but what the fuck is he trying to accomplish? He just has this weird inkling that this whole thing, stripping and dressing up thing, kinda turns Aaron on in a weird way? Like not enough to get him hard obviously, but enough to make him want it. Spencer's testing the water but for what, exactly? This is a one-time thing, why is he taking notes on what turns his boss on? 

Hotch pulls his shirt collar up, looping his tie around and actually putting it on for him, his tie turning out neater than it would whenever he did it himself. 

Again, when Hotch was about to walk away, Spencer stops him. "Can you tuck in the back of my shirt? I can’t really see…" Spencer turns around, and true enough, there's a slight wrinkle on the bottom of his shirt, not anything he needs help tidy up though and both of them know this but for some reason, Hotch just follows. 

Reid didn't feel anything for a second and was just about to ask when he feels Hotch yank him back by the waist, he pretty much shoved the shirt down and going a step further by making sure they're all neatly tucked by rubbing his fingers hard from the back to the front. Spencer has to stop his gasps whenever Hotch would shove in his perfectly tucked shirt roughly for no fucking reason. It seems like Hotch also has a limit on how much teasing Spencer dish out. Spencer's not complaining though. 

He almost stumbles when Hotch gives his waist one last squeeze before finally letting him go for real this time. Spencer’s done dressing up but he feels eyes watching the undone button on the bottom of his shirt from all of Hotch's rough handling. Hotch didn't make a move to fix it though, probably not wanting to touch Spencer's hip again. 

Spencer finished up the rest of his clothes, putting his socks and his shoes on, tapping the tips once to get them snug before walking to the door. 

Both of them have been silent till now, looking all prim and proper like they were before. Spencer went to crack open the door, the slightest orange light of the hall seeps in but it instantly disappears when Hotch slams the door back close and single-handedly turns Spencer around. 

Shocked and confused, Spencer doesn’t fight it when Hotch shoves him up the door and kisses him full. 

Fuck it, Spencer pulls on his shoulder and yank him flush to his chest and deepens the kiss shamelessly, his brows frowning and lips parting to roughly kiss Aaron's mouth, open-mouthed and dirty, Spencer would be disgusted when their spit wets his chin but he couldn't care less, not when Hotch shoved his tongue inside his mouth, when Spencer bites the other’s lower lip when they part for air till Aaron was groaning at him. Mm, that sounds nice, Spencer decides that he likes it and he's going to pull more of that off of him. 

It was Spencer that initiated more, telling Hotch that hey, it's not just a kiss, they're not going to stop at a kiss, no, Hotch opened the floodgates and none of them can stop it. Spencer grips Hotch's hair, keeping him in place so he could kiss down Aaron's neck. 

Spencer fucking hates how physically stronger Hotch is compared to him. How easy it is for the older man to drag him off the door despite Spencer's loud whining. 

Spencer felt Hotch pulling on the belt that he himself puts on just minutes before and unbuckling it with the patience of a toddler, roughly unzipping Spencer's pants and swallowing his loud moan with another round of rough kisses. 

Spencer's not going to back down without a fight, though. He pushed the older man off his body with all the strength he can muster, before Hotch can wrestle him down, he slip to the side and this time he shoved Hotch to fucking sit on the bed. He didn't even get to ask Spencer what the hell he's doing before the younger one went to his knees in seconds unzipping Aaron’s pants impatiently and– 

"FUCK–" 

Oh, he's cursing! He's cursing and that makes Spencer giddy. He got his head between Hotch's thighs, his fingers spreading the zipper apart as much as it can go before leaning in and dragging his tongue on Aaron’s cock through the thin material of his underwear, his putting his tongue flat and dragging it up and down as hard as he can, wetting the fabric with spit that Spencer obviously doesn't give a shit about. He knows it drives him crazy, it apparently entertains him and Hotch knows this. This time it's Hotch's turn to grip his hair in place painfully before shoving his underwear down with one push. God, he's so fucking hard already and it's all because of the cheeky thing sitting between his thighs. 

He knows Spencer can be cheeky when he feels like it. It drives Hotch absolutely insane when he looks down and he sees Spencer, trying to pull pry fingers off his hair to lighten the tension but still supporting that grin on his face. Hotch… he tries not to curse, he never does in front of someone else but he keeps doing it under his breath now, Spencer managed to pull all that out of him and he knows how smug he is about it. 

He's going to wipe that grin off his face though, he’s– "Gonna wipe this grin off my face?" The younger man says knowingly like the profiler he is. "After I turn you on just by letting you fix up my clothes, hm?" Spencer is teasing him, it probably gave him a big wave of satisfaction from knowing he manage to fluster his usually always stoic boss, and Hotch has to admit that he's impressed by his little game. He's going to make him regret it (not really, but oh well). 

Spencer whines when the grip gets harder, when Hotch yanks his hair up so hard that Spencer is leaning up on his knees, pulling a real reaction of pain from the younger. Spencer kept trying to get his grip off but he didn't fight it when Hotch drags him closer, even voluntarily opening his mouth as wide as he can go, sticking his tongue out in a blatant invitation. 

It's so fucking dirty, holy shit, he's so fucking shameless. Hotch's brain froze for a second from the sight of his usually awkward, youngest teammate now waiting for his boss to face fuck him. If it's anyone who he knows is naturally flirty, this image might not break his mind this badly but because it's Spencer… Hotch isn't sure how his brain is still functioning but it's functioning enough to grip his cock and slide it into Spencer's mouth. Sliding is such a soft word to describe him gripping the man’s jaw to make sure it stays open.  

"Ha… fuck…" Hotch moans when the sudden tight wetness envelops him, Spencer letting Hotch force his jaw open, Spencer trying his damnest to get that cock in as far down his throat on the first try. He didn't manage much, just 2 or 3 inches but the moment he starts bobbing his face up and down, the more he can get into his mouth. That's good, that's nice, but the thing is, Hotch is already feeling his orgasm coming fast and he needs to– 

Spencer sounds confused and alarmed when the hand on his hair lets go, that confusion turns into surprise as Hotch grabs each side of his cheeks instead, forcing him there as Hotch thrusts his cock inside his mouth and down his throat, making Spencer let out a real, almost panicked sound.

He kept fucking his mouth, gagging Spencer again and again, Spencer fighting every urge in his body to push Aaron off because he knows now that's what Aaron likes. What triggered his orgasm is Hotch looking down and seeing that previously smug face now turns all red and teary, nose flush and lips painfully spread open, he keeps eye contact until he, shamefully enough, comes in around a minute or two inside his mouth. He almost passed out when he felt Spencer's throat contracting around him as he swallowed his semen. Not like he has any choice, he would’ve gagged if he didn't.  

A wet squelching sound can be heard when Hotch finally, ever so slowly slides his softening cock out of Spencer's mouth. Spencer instantly heaving for air, coughing a few times and wiping the spit and semen off his lips and chin. Hotch could hear Spencer curse under his breath, finally getting his breathing back to normal. 

Hotch wonders if he's twenty years younger, can he get hard again so quickly? Because his cock twitched at the sight of Spencer looking absolutely ruined. 

That looks so good, Hotch wants to take a picture of it but then realized how vulgar that is and what a disaster it will be if someone accidentally sees it. 

Hotch grabbed Spencer's shoulders up, the younger falling to the man's chest with a soft 'oof', hissing when Hotch's hands gripped and squeeze his ass roughly, just about to yank his pants down too when Spencer whines, pretty much slapping his hands away. "Don't! You're gonna get me hard too and you never sucked cock before have you?" Spencer said with a pout in a matter-of-fact way. 

Then Spencer moves away from him, going to the bathroom to wash his face and rinse his mouth, thankfully none of that stained his collars and tie. 

When he got out, Hotch already zipped his pants back on, he looked disheveled and there were some stained spots on his pants but nothing that won't be covered with the bottom of his suit, small blessings. 

"Let's go." Hotch said and their way back out isn't so awkward this time. After Spencer paid the fee, Hotch even opened the car door for him, ugh what a gentleman. He seems much more relaxed than before, Spencer's theory is true, orgasm does help you relax, he just didn't know Hotch needed more than one. 

=

"Pretty boy! How was Connecticut?" 

"Hm… Ultimately uneventful." 

Thankfully, Hotch had his dry cleaning in his office so no one had to see his come-stained pants and sweaty shirt. 

Well. Spencer hopes that what happened earlier would be considered 'uneventful' compared to what will happen tonight. Tonight when Spencer promised to show his apparently not-so-straight, clueless boss on how to fuck a man proper. 

Besides, he would probably need those orgasms again after he signed those damn divorce papers, right? 

[frankiebirds]

the day i stop thinking about the ending of s02e11 sex, birth, death is the day i die.

like. reid coming extremely close to needing to be dragged away from nathan?

both garcia and reid's expressions here? reid, who cares for and identifies with nathan, garcia, who has (i believe) never seen a dead body* in person? (also, you can't see it here because it's a still image, but reid's breath is hitching here and he looks close to hyperventilating)

*i know nathan is not dead here, nor does he die at all—the point im making is that having never seen a dead body in person before would make you more unprepared for seeing the aftermath of an unsuccessful suicide attempt than someone who has

reid makes no movement to clean the blood off his hands until gideon is right in front of him. he just stands there and stares like hes dissociating until gideon comes up and, in my opinion, sort of startles him into acting.

and gideon putting an arm around reid and taking him away from the scene while morgan does the same to garcia. hhhh.

this is the most emotional we see reid get up to this point. he's yelling while he's trying to keep nathan arrive, enough to strain his voice. i dont think hes so much as raised his voice at all up to this point.

i wonder how long he washed his hands for before he deemed himself "clean".

[artcake]

[crepe-of-wrath]

not me staying up late and paying way more attention to this episode from a later run of Criminal Minds than I probably should just because Reid and Simmons are doing a lot of work together

I really do just watch TV with my pussy, istg...

[snarkylinda]

I think we should all just focus on whose fault this really is... William Reid's. He's the reason Spencer has the eq of a walnut.

I ALWAYS focus on William Reid for doing his son so dirty. ALWAYS. It's amazing how much shit would had been resolved/avoided if he wasn't so spineless as to abandon his 10yo (even when Diana was BEGGING to take Spencer with him. She knew he wouldn't be properly raised staying with her- William didn't give a shit. Spencer saw the moment his father not only rejected his mom, but HIM, directly) on the last episode Maeve says that Spencer seeks for everyone's approval, shortly after stating those that left him- if William wasn't such a pussy, he could had taught his son to have some self-confidence- hell, even if he didn't DIRECTLY, him staying would had him raise his confidence on a indirect way. Maybe enough to tell someone he had a drug problem instead of sending mixed messages well after it was resolved (off fucking screen too- I hate them) he wouldn't had been Diana's sole caretaker, hence not going to the leghts he went in season 12, thus giving Cat the perfect chance to pray on him; hell, if he wasn't so eager to please, he could had insisted Maeve to get help from the team instead of lowering his head and apologizing when she got upset.

Good job my guy, your son has anxiety.

And lots of other shit to work on lmao

[rreids]

WANT • S. REID X READER

smut (mdni, you will be blocked); needy spencer; praise; fem!reader; oral (f receiving); possessive wording; ~1.1k words

Spencer was, for lack of better word, whipped.

Morgan would say pussy-whipped, but Spencer wasn’t fond of that. Just because he liked you, would stop what he’s doing at the drop of a hat for you… it was for more than your body.

Even if it was beautiful.

He could remember every curve, every scar, every wrinkle, envision it clearly in his mind's eye. 

God, he missed you.

“Hey, boy genius,” Morgan calls, and he snaps back to attention. “Staring at your file won’t get it done,”

“I know,” Spencer grumbles, going to make more coffee. He sends you a text — miss you. — when he does. He’s not one for that, preferring calls and time together, and knows you’ll piece it together.

It’s an excruciating hour and a half that it takes to get the paperwork done and put in and to drive back to your shared apartment.

He relaxes even as he puts his key into the lock, door opening to the smell of your body wash.

His eyes find you first, dressed in one of his shirts, hair still wet.

“Oh.”

He lets it click shut behind him, eyes trailing up and down you shamelessly.

“Missed me?” You tease, and he nods. You wrap him in a hug, clingy as ever. He melts into you.

With you wrapping him in your arms, he has no choice but to stumble to the couch and let you sit him down and straddle him, lightly tracing the smile lines that won’t fade as he looks at you.

“Pretty boy,” you coo, and he smiles more. “What’s going on in your head?”

He makes a show of pretending to think and grab the thought before meeting your eyes. “Thinking about how gorgeous you are,”

You beam at him, and he wills the image to sear itself into his memory.

You’re so warm and soft above him, just supple skin and delicious smells that make his head spin with need, nothing on but his shirt and a pair of flimsy panties. He can feel everything, and it drives him insane, fingers twitching against your thighs. 

“Spence,” you whisper. “Words, baby,”

“You’re so soft,” he exhales quickly and you cock a brow, letting him trail his fingers to your inner thigh, where he draws circles.

He wants to pull your panties to the side so badly. But he knows to wait.

“Yeah? I moisturized today.” You give him a smile, sultry and enticing, and then you tug your (his) shirt off, pressing your breasts into his chest. “Feel. Soft, right?”

He obeys, trailing his fingertips so lightly it raises goosebumps. His mind feels like it’s full of cotton. “Yeah–yeah, soft,” he clears his throat, wanting to nibble hickeys into the skin. With effort, he tears his eyes away and to your face. “And so gorgeous. Like always.”

You hum, tap a finger against his temple. He leans into your hand, desperate for the touch. “Thank you, baby,”

He stares at you in silence, forcing back thoughts of what he wants. 

“Wanna prove how much you missed me?”

“Please,” his tone is almost reverent, and he should be ashamed how easily he folds for you; how he wants to be on or in you, always; how he wants and wants and wants, and how it’s never enough; how he’s happiest with your smell and touch overwhelming his senses.

“Show me.”

Spencer slips to the floor on his knees, pressing a kiss to the side of your knee. He crawls his hands up slowly, lets them hook in the waistband of your panties and tug. He thumbs the wet spot before dropping them to the ground, and he knows his eyes are blown out when he stares at your beautiful pussy, glistening with your need for him.

He exhales shakily and shuffles closer, presses a kiss to your thigh before licking a stripe up your core. He groans at the taste, shutting his eyes when you whimper at the sensation — the sight of your chest heaving, eyes glazed over already, head thrown back as far as you could while keeping your gaze trained on him… it was too much.

Spencer circles your clit with his tongue before kissing it, letting your thighs squeeze around him with an eager moan.

He shifts a little lower, nose bumping into your clit as he dips his tongue into you. You shudder, whimper his name like he’s helping you see heaven, and he sighs, sloppily licking into you.

He normally has good technique but he’s already so drunk off your taste, ears buzzing and face burning hot, red with desire and loss of air.

Spencer only whines when you tug on his hair and yank him back, reveling in the way it stings.

“Breathe, Spence,”

He nods, head swimming. He wants — god, he wants you spread open on his fingers and tongue, quivering under the stimulation, sweating and sobbing from how good it feels; he wants you to help him get off, wants you to fuck him until he can barely breathe and it aches to be touched; he wants you to mark him and he wants to be called yours.

“‘m yours,”

“Hm?” It comes off airy and whiny as he sucks your clit back into his mouth.

He takes a bit to answer, pulling back breathlessly. “Tell me I’m yours,”

“You’re mine,” you tell him, tugging his hair and shoving him back into you. He whimpers. Loudly. “You’re my good boy, you’ll do what I say, yeah?”

He nods vigorously, getting sloppier and sloppier, more whimpers and vibrations into you than coordinated movement. 

“Spence. My love,” you gasp, arching up into him. “Make me cum,”

Spencer nips your clit, just enough for you to shriek and melt under him after tensing. 

“Mine, my pretty fuckin’ girl,” he’s incoherent, babbling. “So sweet and pretty, always ready for me, such a sweet girl… tastes as good as you look, as you talk,” Spencer locks eyes with you finally, and he swears he could cum from how dazed you are alone.

You wail as he finally tips you over the edge, and Spencer can’t stop. Not when you taste so good, and all he can smell is your arousal coating his chin and your thighs, when you’re shaking around him and all he wants is for you to do it again.

It takes you yanking him away from you for his mind to clear a little from the fog, breathing heavily and eyes trained on your pussy until you guide him to look at you.

“Enough, baby,” you coo, rubbing your slick off his chin. “Give me a breather,”

He whines.

“Pussy-whipped,” you coo, and he can only nod. “Just give me a second and you can have me again,”

Spencer licks his lips. “Thank you.”

fuck it we ball (not proofread which.. expect that. when it comes to my works). i need him so bad. gif is my own :)

[ddejavvu]

Hi Mei!! ♡ How about Reid dating a sunshine!reader who tells obviously wrong facts when he is in earsight, just to mess with him? Bc I think it would be so funny 😭😭 Anyway, have a nice day, and thank you so much for all your quality content, you're saving lives <333

"Oh my god Emily, you're never gonna believe this," You lean in towards the brunette grinning at you, but your voice stays loud enough for Spencer to hear across the desk, "I just found out that bowling is more dangerous than dinosaurs are."

Her brow dips but her lips quirk up, "Alright, you've hooked me. What's the punchline?"

"No punchline," You shake your head, feeling Reid's curious stare on the back of it, "In 2019 someone died at a bowling alley after slipping on the floor and splitting his head open. But in that same year, there wasn't a single death by dinosaur. Isn't that insane?"

Spencer is already piping up before Emily can properly laugh, but you can still hear her beneath his frantic, "Uh, honey, that's not- that's not exactly right. I mean, dinosaurs would be incredibly dangerous, if any of them were still alive. Which, in 2019- uh, they were not."

"Statistically speaking, Spence," You use his favorite phrase against him, but you're not sure he picks up on the teasing grin set on your face beyond the concern he's stewing in, "You can't argue with the numbers."

"Well- you can't, but in 2019, the number of dinosaurs alive was zero, so that's- that's the only number that really matters, baby, but if you wanted to read more about the risks associated with communal sports venues, I'd be happy to share some articles I've looked into on-"

"Ah, leave it to Reid to turn a sick-ass discussion about dinosaurs about the dangers of fun," Morgan scoffs. He wasn't in on your plan from the beginning, but he's happy to jump on the bandwagon, "Besides, the last Jurassic Park movie was made in 2022, so there were dinosaurs alive, duh."

[kisses4reid]

missed it | ·˚ ༘ spencer reid ,,

summary - you celebrate your birthday alone in tears, until someone knocks on your door.

genre - colleague!reid x fem!reader, angst, fluff

warnings - angst, crying, memories of neglect and favouritism

a/n - a little self indulgent. thank you for 450 followers!!!! taglist is open as always, sorry for the cliff hanger.

Crisscross applesauce on a wooden barstool in front of leftovers from the night before. Exactly how every Wednesday night is. It’s raining, you can smell petichor, and you had just finished a book your colleague had lended you two days prior.

There is nothing special about today.

Your day was full of paper work and coffee breaks. Exactly how every Wednesday is. It was overcast, you could smell petichor, and you had just handed in some classified paperwork to your boss.

There was nothing special about today.

You night will be sleepless, full of tears and terrible memories. Not like every Wednesday night. It will storm, you’ll smell dirt and mud, and you’ll show up the next day to pretend you’re as bubbly and smiley as every one thinks you are.

There is nothing ever special about today.

You gripped your fork and stuffed the last of the leftover rice into your cheeks, chewing as a coping mechanism for the ball gathering at the back of your throat.

Glancing at your phone every two minutes didn’t help the gathering tears either, especially when it was a black screen every time. It happens every year.

Maybe your little cousin will send some emojis and a love heart, but it’s been years since that last happened. Your brothers and sister would get posts on your mothers Facebook, and you got a happy birthday from a distant aunty you met once when you were 3.

Maybe this is why when you dry yourself and start your nighttime routine, you light the candle you bought yourself, and get changed into pyjamas you bought yourself, and you light a skinny colourful candle you bought yourself.

You don’t get the chance to blow it out before a tear extinguishes it.

A sob rakes through you. Even in these warm pyjamas surrounded by your favourite vanilla and citrus scent, you can’t seem to be happy with what you’ve got. That’s what your father would tell you every birthday until you were 11 - when the presents stopped rolling in.

Be grateful for the clothes you’ve already got, for the books you’ve already read, for the food you’ve already eaten.

Be grateful that your little sister can breathe to blow out your candles, that your brothers have hands to open your presents.

Be grateful.

You are grateful you got that part time job to move out so young, that you were accepted in the BAU and welcomed with open arms, that it gave you the financial stability to own your own apartment with windows to get rained on and bookshelves to fill.

The covers on your bed were darkening with every tear that dropped from your cheek. It was ruining your skincare.

A laugh escapes you, barely audible through your closing throat, before you hear a firm knock on your front door.

Slippers on, hair loose and messy, you opened the door with a frown. It was not the day nor time for any soliciting or girl scout cookies. But you stopped for a second and glanced at the time displayed on your oven. It was 11pm.

“Y/n? Are you awake?”

Your eyes widened at Spencer Reid’s voice, eyebrows furrowing and hand quick to twist the door knob.

“Spencer what are you-“

“Happy birthday?” A full teeth smile was plastered on his place, but you didn’t notice as his face was hidden by a vanilla cake and small bag with plastic casing over it.

Any other time Spencer would be welcome in, it would make sense today wouldn’t be any different. For gods sakes, he has a key to your front door - but when his smile fades and you feel the last tear drop catch on your socks, you rethink opening the door all together.

“Y/n… are you okay?”

You felt a pit of coal and ash stir in the bottom of your uneasy stomach. Your eyes flashed between his eyes and the cake, one last single tear dropping down your cheek.

Spencer caught it with his thumb, wiping it with a deep frown.

“I’m fine,” you stepped back to let him in, plastering an awkward smile on your face (something you hoped would say caught me!), “Sad movie, that’s all.”

“A sad movie on your birthday?” He set down the bag and cake on your kitchen countertop, concerned expression not lifting after your lie. You bit your lip as his eyes wandered the apartment.

He had been there a million times, but now he seemed to be profiling it.

There was an orange stained plate in the sink - probably your left overs, no indent on the couch nor movie playing on the TV. He peered into your bedroom to find a wrecked bed and slouched pillows, tissues splayed amongst the duvet.

You swallowed, feeling caught and trapped. There was no escaping this, Spencer was too good of a profiler.

“I’m sorry, Y/n.” His eyes were a deep brown, glossy against his matte chocolate hair. He wore those glasses you liked, even when he insisted he hated how he looked in them. What a beautiful sight in such a sad situation.

You brought your left hand to your right elbow and shook your head, “It’s okay-“

“No it’s not.”

“Spencer, I’ve dealt with this for over 12 years. You get used to it.”

Spencer stood a metre away from you, eyes scanning you like he was trying to scrap the skin off your bones, see what was really going on.

And at that point, in your den of lies and self-pity, you felt no more rotten truths could hurt you more than you had hurt yourself. Spencer wasn’t much taller than you, but looking at him for this long at an angle was beginning to hurt more than your heart.

You grabbed the cake off of your counter top and smiled as if nothing wrong was happening, “Cake! You brought me cake.”

Spencer followed you into your living room awkwardly, “Yeah. It’s vanilla- I brought it because we didn’t eat at work today, nobody…”

Said Happy Birthday.

You nodded to yourself, patting the space beside you for Spencer to sit. “I know, it’s okay. It was a very busy day, I don’t blame them.” You undid the lid of the cake - obviously store bought - and took in your hand a wine glass that had stood empty for around half an hour. “Thank you, my favourite flavour is vanilla.”

“I know.” The tall boy let out a small smile then, but it quickly disappeared. He hated how you shrugged off such a devastating situation, how it meant nothing to you, how you claimed it had been like this for 12 years and not broken down.

“Y/n-“ Your loud sigh cut him off, stabbing the wine glass into the cake and lifting it, taking a bite of cake that slide out of the cup. The couch softened under your sudden slouch, Spencer faced you with his legs spread like a man.

Your eyes felt tight, chest collapsed. Nothing could be worse than this.

“My birthday is a week after my older brothers, so even when we did celebrate my birthday, it was small. And then one of my uncles passed away a few days after, and celebrating my birthday was seen as inappropriate.” You took another bite and talked through the frosting, “Instead at Christmas they let me choose which presents were for my birthday, many months late. I was grateful, that was all that mattered.”

Spencer moved closer and whispered, “Being grateful for neglect isn’t healthy, Y/n.”

“But it helped me, as a kid. As a girl who wanted to be loved so badly. When your siblings blow out your candles, and your cake is your sisters favourite flavour, all you can be is spiteful. And when I was, I was reprimanded. Be grateful, Y/n. At least you have siblings who can breathe and eat.”

You laughed after some time, Spencer’s mind racing at a hundred miles per minute.

“So I never told anyone my birthday. That’s why I showed up at the door looking like this,” you point to yourself and giggle, “I didn’t think anyone knew.”

“You look gorgeous.” He whispered, thigh touching yours on the plush couch. His hand lifted and skimmed your face, thumb moving to wipe a dot of frosting off of your lips. His hand fell.

“What’s in the bag?” You ask.

“Open it and see.” He replies.

What’s inside surprises you more than his initial arrival. It a medium sized glass bottle of perfume, with simple rinestones and gorgeous patterns engraved in it, a baby pink ribbon around its neck. The words were in french, the only words in english reading vanilla & citrus, in cursive writing.

A breath escaped you, your fingers tracing each detail like you were to memorise it. Spencer gulped as your eyes were glued to the writing and the shiny glass, how the liquid inside sloshed only slightly at every move.

“It is… do you like it?” He asks, turning his body towards yours trying to scope out your expression.

“I love it.” You mumble in awe.

“What?”

“I love it, thank you. Spencer, this is…” A wide smile escaped you, an incredulous giggle accompanying it. He let out a held breath and wove his shaking fingers through his hair. He was still at a loss for words at your previous confessions, but at least he made you happy, laugh.

Your eyes held each other for a moment, the room getting so suddenly small and hot.

“I…” you try to finish your sentence before you notice his gaze flickering to your lips, causing a small smile to appear.

“Happy birthday, Y/n. I’m sorry your birthdays were overlooked, I promise they won’t be anymore.” Spencer whispered, leaning in.

taglist (open!!) : @jeffswh0re @reap3erslov3 @candyd1es

[only-one-brain-cell]

Derek talking to his dead father in a field in his mind: so Reid did this cool thing one time. Have I talked about Reid before? Here’s the thing about Reid. Will I ever see him again?

[luveline]

hotch sister idea-- convincing hotch to take you out to dinner with the whole team because you "want to properly meet his friends" (i'm a sucker for team dynamics) but then being shy and cute with spencer the entire time to the point that hotch notices and gets a tad protective...but ends with spencer getting her number or something

thank you for requesting 💌 —you attend a party with your older brother in a not so secret plight to see Dr. Reid. You fawn, Spencer flusters, and Hotch drinks a tad more than usual. fem, 2.3k

cw for mentions of past child abuse

The car is quiet besides the tread of the tires on asphalt. You click and unclick the clasp of your shoulder bag, checking for your purse, getting worried your purse isn’t in there, and checking again.

“If there’s something you want to ask me, you can ask me.”

You move your gaze to your brother. His quietness can make you nervous, a reflection of your father but with none of the cruelty. “I don’t want you to get mad at me if it’s stupid.”

“Well, I won’t. I promise.”

You know he won’t, but sometimes the fear remains. Even when you’re far from being a kid. “Do you remember when I got suspended for, um, disrespectful behaviour? My senior year?”

Aaron turns the wheel with care. “I do.”

“And we went for ice cream.”

“Yeah, honey, I remember.”

That’s the point you’re trying to make, maybe. That tenderness sewn into the middle of his sentence. If your dad knew you’d been suspended again he would’ve made you feel it. You remember the sinking sensation in your chest waiting for him to pick you up, having written the speech he’d give you in the car ride home in your head ten times over, the sting of his palm grazing your cheek before you’d even seen his hand. So you waited in a total violent panic, head rush, wondering if anything was worth anything, when Aaron arrived to pick you up.

How did you know? you’d asked.

I changed your emergency contact. I hope that’s okay.

“You asked me what I wanted and…”

What flavour did you want, honey? he’d asked. Honey, like he loved you, the only person in the whole world who’d bother asking. The only man who’d take you for ice cream at seventeen years old to cure a bad day.

“And you burst into tears,” Aaron says.

He’d sat down opposite you in his suit, torn from one of his trials, and you can’t remember anymore if he was an attorney or already in the FBI, but you can’t forget how he’d taken your wrists into his hands and asked you not to cry.

“When you took me home, Haley asked me if you’d upset me, and I didn’t know how to explain it so you said yes. And she shouted at you for a whole half hour.”

“Why are you thinking about this now?” he asks.

Maybe because college is over and you’re forced to move on. Aaron asked you to try hard and you have, but now you have your degree and you don’t know what to do with it, you’ll get a job, and then what?

“I’ve been thinking about… my love life.”

“Oh. And you have to talk about this with me?” he jokes.

“I don’t have anybody else.”

He tears his gaze from the windshield. “That’s not true.”

“But…”

He turns into the parking lot outside of Dan’s Fine Wine Bar and pulls into a tight space with ease. He hesitates before he flicks off the engine, turning to you with a smile. “You’ll always have me,” he says, “and we can talk about your love life. I want to. God knows you’ve heard enough about mine this last year.” You both grimace. “But if I have to listen one more time to you talking about Spencer–”

“You said you wouldn’t get mad!”

“Honey.” He takes off his seatbelt and opens the door. “I’m not mad. But imagine your younger sibling comes to you one day to tell you they have feelings for your employee and try to find some sympathy for me!”

He clambers out of the car. You rush after him, unbuckling your seatbelt and nearly smashing your door into the car next to you. The air outside is cold, and you didn’t bring a jacket even though Aaron told you to twice, so you can’t mention it aloud. “I don’t have feelings for him.”

“You have a crush. You’re too old for it.”

“I am not.”

He gestures for you to walk in front of him as he clicks the fob for the car and the doors lock automatically. “I don’t understand what this has to do with your suspension.”

You chew on your cheek. Neon from the wine bar mottles your skin as you pass under it and through the door, air quickly turned from cold to temperate, the smell of old rain replaced by carpeting and beer. When you lift your head to his gaze, he’s still waiting for your answer. “You told me things wouldn’t be that hard forever. I was just wondering when it’s safe to say you were right.”

He grins at you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder to give you a rough hug. “Right now. Be happy right now, honey.”

“There they are!” Penelope calls from a table near the back. Suddenly, Aaron’s entire team of work colleagues stand up where they’ve dominated a whole row of tables and booths alike to greet you. “Oh my gosh, I missed you!”

You met Penelope a long long time ago, and JJ and Derek around the same time, but everybody else is basically new. College was busy and Aaron busier —there was hardly ever time to visit, and when you did it was to see him and Haley. Meeting his friends was somehow put off.

You were introduced to Emily and Spencer, so Aaron directs you to David Rossi first. That’s the main team done quickly. But then he has to introduce you to Anderson, Sweeney, Kelly, Cory, Davidson, etc. So many agents for one man’s birthday. Anyone would think Derek Morgan was a celebrity.

“Happy birthday!” you say, when you finally get a moment to speak.

Derek reaches over the table to hug you quickly. “Thank you, gorgeous. We’re thrilled you’re here.” He pulls back, elbowing Penelope lovingly. “Aren’t we, mama?”

Penelope squeals and jumps for you. “So thrilled!”

Aaron touches your back, as if to say, I’m here, before taking a seat opposite Rossi. You hear snippets of a conversation about whiskey and when, but you’re distracted, because suddenly Penelope’s forcing you to sit down in her vacated seat, smack bang between Emily Prentiss and Spencer Reid.

Dr. Spencer Reid. “Hi,” you say quietly. Can’t help it. You remember how you’d reacted when you met him the week before last and wonder if it’s too late to pretend you’re cool —you’d gotten so worked up about him. He wrote a bunch of papers you had to read for your degree, some of the most sophisticated theory on elliptical math you’d ever read, and you’re supposed to act like he’s just a normal guy?

It doesn’t help that he’s model pretty. You’d never have thought of him as he is now over email, his huge brown eyes, pale skin, the flicking curl of his hair behind his ears. When he turns his head, he has indents on his nose from a pair of glasses you wish you’d seen. You clear your throat.

“Hi, Y/N, how are you?” Spencer asks.

“I’m gonna go get a drink now,” Aaron says. “What do you want?” he asks you.

“Um, anything. I don’t really wanna drink.”

“Okay, I’ll be right back,” he says with deliberateness.

You feel heat like a rash on your neck. He’s embarrassing you doing his dad routine.

“You look pretty,” Spencer says.

You hide your hands under your thighs. “You think so?”

“You look beautiful,” Penelope says from across the table.

“Didn’t inherit that Hotchner scowl,” Derek says with a grin, “I thought it came with the name.”

“I learned how to do it the day they signed the adoption certificate,” you nudge in, “I just keep it to myself. I think Aaron has it down.”

Everybody within hearing distance laughs at you, to your relief. To your left, Spencer’s shoe hits your heel.

“So weird to hear his real name,” Emily says, tipping her drink to the side, ice and sugar on the surface. “I thought for sure you’d have to call him Hotch too.”

You look around in surprise. “He can’t be that bad. Does he really frown so much?”

You’re told vehemently that your brother is a grump, which is something you were aware of, just not experienced in. Sure, he’s had his unhappy moments, no one can smile every second of the day, but if everyone is to be believed he’s the sternest man alive. Eventually things drift into storytelling. Aaron brings you your drink with a straw and a napkin wrapped around the base, and you find yourself listening to a graphic rehash of Derek’s first case with the BAU.

Spencer’s leg is a coal at your side.

Your self preservation runs out. “You don’t drink?” you ask, nodding to his glass bottle of coke.

“I– I never did. I never had the opportunity. I’ve never even been to a party.” He pauses. “I don’t know why I just told you that.”

“I didn’t go to parties either,” you say, overjoyed to find common ground so quickly.

“I mean, I was never invited, but highschool parties didn’t seem like my thing. And, you know, I was twelve.”

“You were twelve in highschool?”

He’s doing that thing you noticed the day you met, where his lips move before he’s ready to talk, his emotion clear. “You weren’t?” he asks, not quite smooth but enough to make you laugh suddenly.

“I wish! I could’ve been done with college years ago.” Your brows pinch together. “Wait, so did you go to college as a kid?”

“I mean, sort of.”

“What? No wonder you didn’t go to any parties, that must’ve been insane. When I was twelve I was still setting my Barbie’s up for dance parties. Aaron has a photo of me dressed up in mom’s old clothes.” You lean forward for a sip of your drink.

“Oh, don’t worry, there’s a photo of me just like that when I was twelve, too.”

You laugh so hard you almost choke.

A cup comes down hard somewhere behind your turned head.

“You okay?” Emily asks.

She wears a smirk you don’t understand, a joke you’ve missed. You peer past her to look to Aaron for advice and find him rather sullen, hand curled tightly around his drink. You try to give him a signal to ask if he’s alright, but it’s to no avail.

“I’m fine, sorry, just a joke.” You turn back to Spencer. “That’s adorable.”

You’re breathless talking to him. He must notice, but Spencer doesn’t say a word.

If someone asked you why he caught your attention, you’re not sure you know the answer. He’s pretty, undeniably, and it’s fascinating that you used his theory while you were in school, but fascination isn’t endless. Maybe it’s the way he looks at you. No ones ever given such a clear sense of awe; he gets stuck on you, his eyes tracing your cheek and your nose and your lips. It’s noticeable, but it isn’t unwanted. You keep coming back to his smile as he talks, the flash of his teeth.

“I honestly didn’t know Hotch had a sister,” Spencer says.

“He was keeping us apart for a reason,” you say insistently, “I just don’t know what that reason is yet. He must’ve known you were the Dr. Reid I’d been reading.”

“It makes it sound like you’re reading me,” Spencer laughs. “Like, my hands.”

“Do you want me to?”

“Do I want you to what?”

“To read your palm?”

“You know how?”

“No parties, remember?”

Spencer gives you his hand. He has nice hands, big but slim-fingered like a pianist’s, though if he plays isn’t something you know. You angle it flat careful, your thumbs to either side of his open palm. “What do you want to know?” you ask.

“What can you tell me?”

You hum gently. “You have your life line, your head line, your heart line– your love line.”

“What does that– that mean for me?”

You press your thumb to his mount Jupiter, a soft hill of his hand under one of his fingers where the heart line begins. “Your desire for love, and your capacity for it. See how deeply curved it is?” you ask, drawing along his heart line gently. “It means you’re warm, and loving. That you could have a great love.”

You look up, his hand held gently between yours. “But I could be really wrong. I haven’t done this in so long, I might just be making stuff up.”

You sound insecure to your own ears, cringing away from his hand, but Spencer ducks his head just a little to keep your gaze, and he smiles at you softly. “It’s okay. I like your reading, even if it’s wrong. Where did you learn how to do that?”

“Aaron would buy me any book I asked for growing up, he…”

Your brother, sitting only a few seats away, can’t find it in himself to regret that particular generosity even if the sight of you holding Spencer’s hand isn’t one he wants to see. It’s odd. You’re fully grown up, and it’s not like Aaron thinks Spencer would ever hurt you purposefully, but it’s hard to see anyways. He can admit to feeling like a father watching his daughter finding a first love; he can’t keep you forever and he doesn’t want to, but it’s still hard to watch as you descend into giggles that border on dizziness.

“This is a good thing,” Rossi says. “You’ll never have to worry about her being out past curfew.”

Aaron laughs, it’s funny, and then he knocks back his drink.

[nereidprinc3ss]

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.

[pathologicalreid]

Okay before i say my request can i be your 🐚 anon ??? that's all i ask in terms of that BUT:

hear me out- so spencer reid x bau!fem!sunshine!reader gets kidnapped outside of work and her kidnapper tortures her and the works, but the worst part is he has a live feed directed for the bau so they just have to watch the poor girl get borderline killed but she's still fighting back and so eventually he turns the feed off and they go to the unsub once they find his location but before they burst the door down they hear the reader like genuinely begging for him to just kill her and it's GUT WRENCHING. then they get him and she free and she's immediately back to her bubbly self until randomly she like shows up at his door and spence tells her it's okay to not be okay and she just breaks down RAGHHHH

i'm so sorry for writing you an essay but I got the idea and simply couldn't let it go to waste 😭

-🐚 (i hope if that's okay with you???)

epiphany | S.R.

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst; re: hurt/comfort content warnings: bau!reader, sunshine!reader, kidnapping, violence against reader, reader begging for it to be over, gun violence, general cm violence, exhaustion, hospitals, poor coping mechanisms and unhelpful therapists. word count: 2.92k a/n: of course you can be my 🐚 anon! this is a story in four parts, before, during, after, and epiphany! i hope you enjoy it <3 thank you SO much for requesting!

epiphany - a moment of sudden revelation or insight.

before

The horrified look on Garcia’s face couldn’t possibly be a good sign, “Uh, sir,” she addressed Hotch, “I’m being sent an encrypted link from an admin on the UnSub’s site.”

Responding with a stiff nod, Hotch looked toward the screen in the roundtable room, “Open it.”

Each team member had an instant reaction to the image projected onto the large screen. JJ had covered her mouth with her hands, Morgan had to peel his eyes away from the screen, and Spencer couldn’t get himself to do the same thing. Despite his better judgment, he kept his eyes on the screen.

“He’s killing her,” Emily observed, watching with a horrified expression as the UnSub hand his hands around your throat. You were dangling from the ceiling by your bound hands, leaving you flailing as your body begged for air.

Hotch leaned intensely over Garcia’s shoulder, “Is this live?” He asked, voice raising ever so slightly as he watched the tech analyst’s fingers work nimbly across her keyboard. As she nodded, he continued, “Can you find where he’s streaming this from?”

Parting her lips, a determined look settled on the blonde’s face as she continued to type, “It looks like he’s running it through a boatload of different proxies – it’s gonna take me a minute.”

Rossi shook his head, leaning over the roundtable, “She might not have that long.” It was the truth, a harsh truth, but the truth, nonetheless.

It had been one minute and thirty-seven seconds already, brain death would occur after four minutes, maybe five if you were lucky. Spencer didn’t want to have to take that chance. “Oh god,” Penelope cried, working through the tears that had started to stream down her face, “Okay, she’s in this general area.”

“Keep going,” Hotch ordered succinctly. “Everyone else, look at the picture. Is anything recognizable about the background?”

The lighting was dim at best, which didn’t leave the team with a lot to work with while they studied your surroundings. At one point, your attacker shouted, and Spencer’s attention moved back to you.

In the midst of your struggle, you had managed to strike him between the legs, sending him stumbling away from you, shouting expletives as space was put between the two of you. The BAU took a collective breath as they listened to you breathe, spluttering as the UnSub regained his composure. “Do you see that? The ridges in the wall?” Derek said, using his index finger to point to what he was talking about.

“It looks like a storage container,” Emily replied, furrowing her brows as she comprehended what Morgan was talking about.

Wholly focused on you, Spencer watched as the UnSub got in your face, screaming horrible words at you until you spit in his face. He swung at you, causing your face to turn with a nauseating smack until your head lolled forward and you stopped moving.

Still typing, Penelope spoke up, “Got it! Sending the address to your phones now.”

during

There was a maze of storage containers at the port, and so far, you had turned up in none of them. “Shh, wait,” Emily hissed, “Do you guys hear that?” She asked, looking over each of her shoulders, ears perked up like a bloodhound.

Straining his ears, Spencer straightened up, lowering his firearm as he focused on listening to the world around him, waiting for whatever Emily was talking about.

“Just fucking do it!” Your voice reverberated off of the surface of the numerous shipping containers. Spencer found himself torn as he knew you were alive but recognized the fear and anger in your voice. The pain as you screamed nearly stopped him in his tracks, but he found himself trudging forward.

Following closely behind Morgan, they stopped for a moment, trying to determine which direction you would be found in. Your shouts rang out into the pitch black of the night, “Stop being a coward and pull the fucking trigger!”

His steps faltered, leaving JJ stumbling into his back. “Reid,” she whispered, prompting him to shake himself out of his surprised state and continue moving. You didn’t know what you were saying, he tried to convince himself.

You couldn’t see the camera the same way he had seen it so many years ago, kidnapped and drugged against his will and hoping the team would understand the clues disguised as conversation. He had been taken from an UnSub’s property, and your apartment had been broken into – the only thing taken had been you.

It wasn’t an unfamiliar fear in the BAU, worrying about an UnSub breaking into your home, but you weren’t targeted because of your work in the bureau. You had been targeted because you fit the victim pattern.

If he never had to see the word “missing” under your face again, it would be too soon.

“Please,” you begged. “Please just kill me. Just let me die. I don’t want to do it anymore,” your voice started to grow quieter, but the team could still hear you – they were getting closer.

Emily and Morgan went to one side of the doors, leaving Spencer and JJ on the other side – Rossi and Hotch were elsewhere on the property, waiting with first responders and calling the shots via comms.

A small whimper came from the container at the same time as the click of a gun cocking. “Just pull it,” you pleaded weakly. “It’ll be so easy for you. It’ll be so much easier with me dead,” you informed him despondently.

“FBI!” Morgan called out, pulling the heavy metal doors of the container open, revealing the four FBI agents with their vests on, guns raised.

Just like it had happened in an action film, Spencer watched as the UnSub moved his hand to the trigger of his weapon. Your eyes were closed, tears streaming through the dirt that was caked on your face. Without a second thought, Spencer pulled the trigger on his firearm, sending a bullet through the UnSub’s temple before he could have the chance to kill you.

Emily went over to the body, gingerly picking up the weapon and disengaging it while looking over to you. Spencer was knelt in front of you, debating whether or not he should touch you before he decided on speaking to you first, “Y/N?” His voice was no more than a whisper as he expected your eyes to open, but they didn’t.

“His pocket,” you rasped, your traumatized vocal cords straining on every word.

Spencer hummed, “What about them, love?” He kept his voice gentle, watching you as you squeezed your eyes shut.

Sniffling, you hung your head low, “Keys,” you mumbled helplessly, unable to speak more than you already were, each word only drained you of energy you didn’t have in the first place.

Understanding, JJ crouched next to the stiff body of the UnSub and fished a keyring out of his pants pocket, handing them to Spencer.

With shaky hands, the third key unlocked the handcuffs around your wrists, and your body slumped forward, practically falling into Spencer as he tenderly wrapped his arms around your torso, “I’ve got you,” he reassured you.

It wasn’t until you were sat in the back of an ambulance that anyone got a good look at you. There was a fine layer of grime coating your skin, causing it to look at least one shade darker than it normally was, but what concerned Spencer the most was the petechiae of your eyes. The burst blood vessels were a direct result of his hands around your throat.

The paramedics looked over you despite your protests. It was non-negotiable, and that instruction came from Hotch. The strangest part of it was that you were continuously trying to wave off concern, insisting you were fine, kicking your legs off the edge of the rig while the female paramedic looked at the bruising on your cheek. “It might be a fractured ZMA, she’ll need a CT to confirm,” she continued to list even more ailments, including potential internal bleeding and extensive damage to your throat. The swelling in your neck was beginning to catch up with you, affecting your ability to talk.

Spencer rode with you in the ambulance, holding your hand while you told him, “I knew you’d find me. I never gave up.”

I don’t want to do it anymore, your pleas for the UnSub to end your life rang in his head, he’d never forget hearing you say that, and you didn’t even know he heard you.

He didn’t have any good answers for anyone while you were getting a CT. By the time you returned from surgery to repair your fractured cheekbone, he shut the door to your room, sequestering the two of you into your own little world.

The bruising around your neck had already begun to darken, and by this time tomorrow, your throat would likely be a sickening reflection of what had happened to you. Your doctor had elected to leave you intubated because they were afraid of the swelling affecting your ability to breathe.

There was nothing for him to do, nothing except sit at your bedside and hold your hand, skimming the pad of his thumb across your bloodied knuckles.

after

You were skipping - well, maybe the step pattern wasn’t technically a skip.

Spencer watched as you waltzed into the bullpen with far too much pep in your step. “I didn’t know you were coming back today,” Morgan said, being the first to greet you once you passed through the glass doors.

Waving a hand in the air, you shrugged, “I have to pass a final psych eval with Hotch, but then I’m all set to be back next week.” You were grinning as you embraced your friend, but over your shoulder, Derek sent Spencer an inquiring look. Asking a silent question that Spencer himself didn’t even know the answer to.

What was going on with you? Four weeks ago, you had been struggling to stand after being beaten within an inch of your life, and ever since, you had been nothing but smiles.

Before you could settle into the hug, you pulled away, placing your hands on Derek’s shoulders, and holding him at arm’s length. Approximately the same distance you had kept Spencer at for the past month.

As you passed behind Spencer’s desk, you left a featherlight touch on the top of his head before continuing your way up to Hotch’s office, smiling as you passed the roundtable room. The same room where the team had watched your torture as it was live-streamed to them.

“Is she..?” Emily started to ask the question on everyone’s minds, but the major issue was that no one quite knew what the question was. Had you finally cracked? Were you okay? He wasn’t sure, and it was starting to eat at him.

The only thing they could do was watch as you greeted Hotch with a chirp, entering his office and firmly closing the door behind you.

epiphany

The knock on his door was the first thing to pull his attention away from his book since he got home from Quantico. Looking down at the inside of his wrist, he frowned at the time – just past midnight.

Still, he peeled himself up off of the couch before making his way to the front door, peering out of the peephole just to see you on the other side.

Slowly, Spencer set the book on his entryway table and undid the lock and deadbolt to his apartment, swinging the heavy wooden door open to reveal his girlfriend. You were donning flannel pajama pants, not unlike the ones he had on, and an old college t-shirt. There was a crumpled-up piece of paper in your hand, but he couldn’t make out any of the words on it.

“Are you alright?” Spencer asked, the question slipping easily off his tongue. He didn’t wait for the answer, ushering you inside his apartment and toward the couch. He redid the locks on the front door before joining you on the supple leather.

You furrowed your brows, staring at the piece of paper in your lap, “I failed.”

Leaning over your shoulder curiously, Spencer looked at the piece of paper, quickly recognizing it as your psychological evaluation. He read over what he could see, noting the words “deflection” and “coping mechanism.”

“You haven’t been sleeping,” he observed aloud. You must’ve been wearing makeup this morning when you came to the BAU because now he could see the clearly defined dark circles under your eyes. He hadn’t seen you much over the past month, though it wasn’t for lack of trying. Spencer had spent many days sitting outside of your apartment, waiting for you to let him in. He didn’t dare use his spare key, it felt like an invasion of your privacy.

Turning to meet his eyes, you shrugged helplessly, “I haven’t been tired. I mean – I’m… I’m fine.”

Nodding gently, “That’s a deflection. You’re telling me that you’re fine when I can clearly see that you aren’t.”

Your lips parted in apprehension while he read you like an open book. “I’m exhausted,” you admitted, tearing little pieces off of your evaluation form as you grew anxious. “I get into bed, and I can’t sleep, I can’t convince myself to close my eyes,” you elaborated, watching as Spencer reached out and took the paper from you, setting it on the coffee table.

“Have you talked to anyone?” Spencer asked, tentatively taking your hand in his.

Humming, you leaned back on the couch cushions, “Like my mandated FBI therapist? No, I don’t really talk to him much. I’ve started pretending we’re having a staring contest. I usually win, but that’s probably because he has no idea that we’re playing.”

Raising his eyebrows, Spencer inclined his head toward you, “You’re doing it again.”

You clamped your lips shut, shifting on the couch so that you could withdraw your hand from his and sit on your hands. “I don’t do this very well, huh? Talking about the bad stuff,” you murmured to Spencer, looking over at him. “I hate the bad stuff,” you informed him.

“But we have to talk about it eventually, sweetheart. You can’t keep all of that inside,” he told you, moving over on the couch, closer to where you were seated.

Shaking your head, you pulled your knees up to your chest, and Spencer recognized that you were trying to make yourself seem as small as possible. The UnSub had made you feel small – another reason that Spencer had to hate him. “I wish I was her again,” you whispered, a tinge of fear entering your voice.

“You want to be who again?”

Looking over at Spencer, you sighed, “The me that I was before. I want to feel good and happy and perfect and free,” you spoke earnestly.  

He gave you an understanding smile, pulling at your hands so that he could hold them in his own, “Nobody expects you to be perfect right now.”

You closed your eyes, “but I want to be her again.” Small tears started to stream down your cheeks while you mourned the previous version of yourself.

“I know,” Spencer reassured you. “I know you do, but if you can’t quite get to her, I’ll still be here for the you that you are now,” he said, welcoming you with open arms as you began to lean into him. “It wouldn’t have been easier,” he murmured into your hair.

Humming, you grew content in Spencer’s arms, the only place he had wanted you over the past month. “What wouldn’t have been easier?”

Ever so slightly, Spencer tightened his grip around you, “If you had died. It wouldn’t have been easier for anyone. I know it felt like that at the time-“

“You heard that?” You asked, horrified at the thought of Spencer and everyone else hearing what you had thought were your last words.

Nodding, Spencer hummed a confirmation. “I can’t stop thinking about it, and I just needed to tell you that I understand. I don’t want you to feel guilty about what you said, and I don’t want you to feel like you need to regret it. You needed a way out, and that was the one you saw,” he told you.

You were silent for an eerie amount of time, without being able to see your face, Spencer was afraid that he had misread the entire situation. “Thank you,” you whispered, straightening up and looking over at him, bleary eyes meeting his. “I’m just… thank you,” you whispered reaching out for him, embracing him as your tears sept through the fabric of his t-shirt.

The both of you stayed like that for a while, your body was tucked into his side as his fingers lazily trailed up and down your back. “Did you want to try to get some sleep?”

You lifted your head, resting your chin on his chest, “Can I stay here?”

Frowning, Spencer cocked his head to the side, “Yes, isn’t that what I just asked?” Maybe it was more of an implication, but he felt it was fairly straightforward.

“I mean, can I stay here for a while? Maybe for a couple of days?” You asked, pressing your lips together nervously.

Moving his head forward, he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, “You can stay here for as long as you want to.”

[reiderwriter]

I’ve watching the episode where Reid kisses the actress. Could you write a fic where the reader is in the BAU and is best friends with Reid but has a secret crush on Reid which is obvious to everyone on the team but Reid and she is so jealous of the actress and the teams teases her about it?

A/N: Hello! Thanks for the request, I hope you enjoy it~♡

Warnings: none, hints of bi-reader, but like...come on.

Masterlist

Your “too obvious, plain as day, nearly embarrassing” schoolgirl crush on Spencer Reid was taking too long to fizzle out naturally. 

When you'd met the man, and your heart fluttered, you knew you'd have to go through the motions: you'd hope, grow fonder of the man, dream about him, then cringe, get ick, and ultimately you'd achieve the ultimate crush death. 

You were stuck somewhere between hope and dream, still, and had taken a wrong turn somewhere leading to nearly Hozier-levels of desperate longing. 

5 months assisting the BAU as a press liaison, working as JJ's assistant on more public facing cases had landed you here. 

And what better case for you to spread your wings on than one in Los Angeles itself, starring the famous Lila Archer. 

When Gideon and Reid had called the case in, you'd been eager not to seem too eager. You'd never been out of Quantico on a case before, usually shacking up in an office to shout down phone lines as reporters on the press room floor telling them they were scum of the earth for sensationalizing murder. JJ had obviously taught you to have a more nuanced conversation that that, but your inner thoughts were still allowed. 

But LA was a different kettle of fish, and Hotch appreciated that. It didn't quite help that you visibly perked up when you heard Reid himself had a hand in calling it into the team. A high-school classmate and a jet ride later, you were excited and ready to greet Spencer Reid. And Lila Archer. 

She was so pretty it was intimidating to even breathe the same air as her, a magnetism that drew everyone in the room closer to her just as Spencer drew you towards him. 

You tried not to see the obvious attraction the two had to each other, but the bile rose in your throat every time you thought about the case. The sour twinge of jealousy became a constant on the case, as your efforts to save Lila from her stalker also pushed her closer and closer to Spencer. 

And that wasn't even accounting for the fact that you'd suddenly become tongue-tied around them.

Spencer had asked you multiple times how you were enjoying your first time out in the field, and the most you could muster was a nod and a stammered “it's been good, I guess.”

With Lila, it was worse. You couldn't even tell her your name, and had overheard her politely asking Reid for it a few times every time you'd dropped coffee off in their vicinity. 

Your school girl crush was hitting the first heartbreak road bump at full speed, and dear god, you were not ready for the car crash. 

You tried to psych yourself out of it, to clear your mind and remain professional, but one tabloid cover after wrapping the case ended that for you completely. 

“Whooo, Spencer, my man! I knew you were a pretty boy, I didn't know you had game like that!” 

The tabloid had been dropped on his desk by Derek loudly and had quickly drawn a crowd when they'd seen the resulting red flush from the man of the hour. 

He'd snatched up the gossip rag pretty quickly, but not before you'd gotten a glimpse of the cover. You recognised Lila’s pool, then Lila herself, then the man she was passionately making out with as you felt your heart crack in two. 

You'd stuck like a fly on the wall and quietly joined in the teasing as you swallowed all of your ugly emotions at once. 

“And in the pool, too, Spencer, that's crazy. Look at Y/N. She can't believe it herself!” You forced a small giggle past your lips and hoped the others couldn't tell how fake it was. You stuck out a few more minutes of conversation before nearly running back to JJ's, thankfully empty office. 

The tears were silent. 

You berated yourself for even letting them fall. An unrequited love wasn't the end of the world - especially considering you had to work with Reid, see him every day. 

It took you months to get over it. Not that you ever fully managed it.

You simply told yourself that you'd never felt that way in the first place, gaslighting yourself into believing there was no feelings and thus no heartbreak. 

After a month of haunting the office with your general gloom, you got into the flow of it and truly convinced yourself you were over it. 

And you were until everyone started talking about it all over again. 

“Spencer, I heard your lady friend is going to be in a real blockbuster soon. Congrats!” Morgan clapped the man on the shoulder as he walked past, discarding his coat at his desk as he arrived for work. 

You gripped your coffee mug slightly tighter as you wished the conversation would blow over. 

“Reid has a lady friend? Oh, please do not spare the details,” Emily jumped in, eager to integrate herself into the team now that she was in it. 

“You know that actress, Lila Archer? We babysat her on a case a couple of months back, and she took quite the liking to our little genius-” 

“Morgan, stop-” Reid groaned, flushing yet again at the mention of the whole scenario. 

“Okay, I'll back off,” the older man said quickly. “If you can tell me honestly, you don't still have that tabloid cover in the second draw of your desk.”

You tried to stand and walk away from the conversation without drawing any attention to yourself, but the tension in your body left you stiff and less than graceful. You tripped on the corner of your desk on your way out but didn't pause to even listen to the others' call after you in your haste to clear the venom burning in your throat. 

You were fine and happy to ignore your emotions, but you realized then that kind of tactics would only work if everybody else managed to avoid them, too. 

You calmed your pace to a wall and took a series of deep breaths, trying to rationalize your departure to yourself. 

“I'm busy. There's some files I need to pull anyway, so I'm just going to file storage. That's why I left my desk. That's all, I'm fine.” 

Your small pep talk didn't rewrite history, though, and you still felt a cloud of envy following you around.

He kept her picture. In his drawer. 

Truth be told, you weren't expecting it to hurt this bad. 

You heard footsteps come up behind you, so you quickly ducked into the empty elevator, not quite ready to face anyone yet. A hand caught it just as you were about to be left alone, though, and Spencer joined you in the elevator. 

You weren't exactly shocked to see him. He'd been just as uncomfortable with the topic of conversation as you had, if not more so. You just wished you hadn't been in the same place now. 

“Sorry, I need some files.” 

Great, you were going to the same place as well. You just nodded slightly and gave him a tight-lipped smile as you travelled down to the place you'd both chosen as an escape. 

“Back there, you left…” Spencer started, fidgeting awkwardly next to you in the elevator.

“You left pretty abruptly.”

“I remembered I needed some files.’

“Right, right…”

The silence that stretched between you was thick and suffocating, and you begged the elevator to move faster. 

“I don't, by the way.” He spoke up again, awkwardly clearing his throat before continuing. “I don't still have that tabloid. There is a picture in that drawer, but it's not…that one.” 

“A different picture of Lila, then?’ You tried to keep your tone light, but even while trying your hardest, you couldn't keep the bitterness out of your tone.

The elevator reached its destination, but you both held back for a few seconds, and neither of you was quite sure what to say anymore. 

“She kissed me, you know.” Spencer said, facing you now, pinning you in place with his attention. 

“Yes, Spencer. Well aware, I saw the photo, too.” 

“No.. no, I mean, she kissed me.” 

“Loud…loud and clear,” you said, raking a hand through your hair as you tried to drown out all of the noise. 

“Y/N, I don't think you're hearing me.” 

“Oh, and I should be paying attention to you recounting the time an actress decided you were worthy of your time and tried to mount you in a swimming pool? I need to hear about how her tongue felt being pushed down your throat?” 

The words jumped out of you, and you had no way to stop them once they started. Instead, you simply shoulder checked your way out of the still elevator and marched your way to the file room. 

“Y/N, I'm sorry, please just hear me out,” you heard Spencer calling out to you, but you didn't stop or turn around. 

“Y/N, I'm trying to explain, please just-” You heard him groan in frustration as you kept up your pace and felt slightly satisfied that he was having such a hard time. A solid hand on your wrist pulling you back wiped any smile you had on your face clean off, especially as you were pulled into a somewhat solid chest and a hand tipped your head up to meet his own. 

To say you hadn't imagined the moment that Spencer Reid kissed you for the first time would be a lie. You thought it would be sweet and small, an awkward peck if nothing else that led to giggles and more innocent chaste kisses and possibly an illusive hug. 

Instead, you were pushed back against the nearest wall, pinned up by your wrists, and robbed of all of your breath as Spencer kissed you until you were seconds from passing out. 

Even after you both came up from air, he released your wrists so he could angle your head back up to him, allowing him to deepen the kiss the second time around. 

Stunned was not the word. 

And though you were completely taken unaware by the kiss, that didn't mean you weren't eagerly reciprocating. 

You kept your wits about you as his tongue parted your lips, leaning into him as you savored the moment. 

It didn't stop the confusion after you finally broke apart, though. 

“What…the…fuck, Spencer?” You said between gasps, chest heaving. He let your wrists go awkwardly, hands trailing down to your waist as you rested yours on his shoulders.

“You weren't…listening. Needed a different strategy.” 

“Well, I'm all ears now.” 

He nodded and then took another moment to catch his breath before relinquishing you from his hold and putting a bit of space between you. 

“I didn't kiss Lila Archer. I didn't particularly want..to?” He cleared his throat and continued. 

“She kinda just grabbed me? And did it? There was a pool too, so I was trying not to choke on water and chlorine and hair everywhere. Like, she just grabbed me-” 

“Like you just did?” 

“Like I just… did, yeah, like that.” 

You weren't sure what to do or say anymore. So you just nodded and stood there, and so did he. 

“That's not to say that I didn't enjoy this kiss. It wasn't just to illustrate the point. It kind of was, in the sense that it helped you understand what happened before, and that I hope it will help you realize the point of this conversation-” 

“Which is?” 

“I like you.” He said, finally pausing his rambling to look you in the eyes. 

“I like you, and I didn't want you to misunderstand.” 

“Oh. Oh right.” 

You both stood there looking at each other and looking away in a loop, neither talking or breaking the silence until you both tried to. 

“What about y-” 

“Kiss me again.” 

Reid blinked at you a few more times, trying to work through your words. 

“Kiss me again” you repeated, stepping away from the wall and closer to Reid as he still just stared at you. 

“We're still working, what if someone walks past?” 

“Didn't stop you the first time.”

“But-”

You cut him off quickly, grabbing his tie and pulling him down to your level, locking lips with him again. 

When you again came up for breath, possibly much longer after the time a second kiss should last, both of you just laughed again. 

“I was jealous.” You said, looking up at him, ready to bare yourself to him now that he'd given a confession of his own. “Of Lila. Of you for being adored like that by someone so cool. But mostly of Lila.”

“Because?” 

“Because I like you, too,” you said, rolling your eyes at him. 

“Nice. Cool, that's great. I like that you like me, too. I like you, hey, I like us,” you cut off his rambling quickly with another small kiss and pulled away.

“So the picture?" You asked, backing away down the hall as he stood and watched you.

"Hmm?"

"The one in your desk."

"Oh," he said, scratching the back of his neck as the tips of his ears turned bright pink.

"Penelope gave me this picture from the Christmas party. It's, uh, me and you."

You smiled brightly before turning to leave, the bile of jealousy that had been consuming you turned magically to butterflies in the space of two kisses.

[fliesforeyes]

oh, the thought of phone sex with spencer reid is driving me crazy.

it'd happen while he's gone on a case. not a short one, of course, he can usually last the two to three days away from you. but a week? he felt like he was going crazy without you, without your touch, your lips, your soft skin.

and no, of course he doesn't usually have dirty dreams about you. but tonight, of course, tonight had to be a night he did. he'd dreamt of fucking you, your soft thighs over his, straddling him as he sat against the headboard of your shared bed. the way your lips parted, the beautiful sounds you make, the soft sound of his skin against yours as he thrusted up into you, your grip on his shoulders. it was just enough to get him hard, to make him wake up in a cold sweat.

it was two a.m. when he awoke, the blinds to the window pulled shut. spencer was unbelievablely grateful that this night, he'd gotten a hotel room to himself. he knew you'd be asleep right now, the case only being further up the east coast and not in a seperate time-zone, but he needed to hear your voice.

"spence? what's wrong?" you asked, voice groggy when you picked up after the first few rings. spencer was already palming himself through his underwear, breath labored as he lay on his side. he'd never been this forward, and now that he has you on the phone, he doesn't even know what to say.

"i just- god i miss you," he said, voice quiet in the dark of his room. you quickly understood what he meant, the lack and breath and neediness in his voice apparent, the way he whined your name only furthering your assumption.

"yeah, spence?" you heard him mumble a small, 'mhm' in response, probably nodding despite you not being able to see it. you wished you could see it, you wished you could see how desperately his hips jutted forward, his big hand wrapped around his cock, his eyebrows furrowed as he bit back a moan of your name when he heard the teasing in your voice.

"needed to call me? need to hear my voice to cum?" you asked, already knowing his answer.

"yeah, please, please keep talking, is this okay? can i touch myself?" spencer whispered. he wanted to be sure this was okay with you. this was never something you two had even mentioned.

"mhm, yeah of course you can baby, whatever you need." your voice was still groggy and thick with sleep, but if anything it further pushed spencers fantasy of waking you and filling you up. "what should i talk about?" you asked, never having done this before.

"anything, please anything, just wanna hear you," he replied, breath heavy as he finally slipped his hand under his boxers and ran his hand along his hard cock. you heard a heavy whine through the receiver, a moan nearly escaping your lips at how pretty he sounded.

you simply rambled about the book you'd been reading, your day, your plans for the weekend. it was hard to concentrate when you could hear spencer getting himself off, the silent gasps and the moans distracting you from your words. spencer would mumble a small, "keep going," your name hushed under his breath.

you would go silent as he cums, thighs clenching together as you chewed your lip at the moan spencer let out, hushed in a way that almost turned you on even more.

"you done, spence?" you asked gently, yawning as your eyes drifted back to sleep.

"mhm, thank you," he responded. spencer kept the small note in his head that this was something you liked, for use on future cases.