I’m Anabelle! She/ her. This is a side blog (main is chasedbyunclewalt) I write for Spencer Reid and Mathew Gubler :) and now Aaron Hotchner so pls request
Omg hieee bae. I’m super awkward and a messy person so this won’t be aesthetically pleasing so sorry. Sooo I used to write for Timothèe Chalamet but I’ve fallen in deeeep for MGG because of Criminal Minds.
*Please send requests because idkk what to write. I will write for Spencer Reid x reader or Mathew Gray Gubler x reader.
This is a side blog. My main is @chasedbyunclewalt and I do cool stuff on there.
Also I’m on mobile which is lame but true soooo like yeah!!
Hear me out! Spencer Reid x Coroner!Reader. Spencer and Rossi talk with the reader after they made the authopsy. Reader is impressed by Spencer's knowledge, but Spencer is even more impressed because Reader made an important deduction about the corpse that helps with the profile! In the meantime Rossi looks at the two of them talking excitedly about some kinds of bruises while feeling the third wheel
Spencer Reid x Coroner!reader
A/N: thank you for everyone’s patience guys! I’m so happy to be writing again. Feel free to send requests 🩷🪩
The case was chaos to say the least. I could tell just from the bodies received. I found it fascinating but couldn’t help but wonder what sicko did this. I handle my work with much sobriety and respect given I work with dead bodies. Most people are terribly uncomfortable around, I’m constantly told how odd it is by others.
Knowing the FBI has been called in today I gather all the reports they’ll need so that they can get the most accurate information possible.
I see the clock, 3pm, they’ll be here any minute.
An older Italian looking man comes in with another guy… he looks about my age, tall, lanky, cute, awkward looking. I quickly snap myself out of it.
“Hello, I’m agent Rossi and this is Doctor Reid.” The older man, Rossi I suppose motions to the young man and holds his hand out to me. I shake it and with a polite smile say.
“Oh- uhm- just Spencer..” The terribly cute agent smiles.
“It’s a pleasure. I’m y/n l/n. I’m here for whatever you need to know!” I say casually, I’ve never been in this type of situation but it’s my work, I don’t mind it at all.
The two men look over the bodies and their own files.
“We were told there were no defense wounds on any of the women but what would explain the bruises on the arm?” Spencer asks, looking up at me observing them.
“Oh those? My theory was that she fell on them. If you see the coloring here-” I use my finger to circle around the inside of a bruise. “This suggests sudden force like if you just dropped to your knees. There were hand marks on the thighs that suggest this also.”
Spencer takes a moment to analyze the information, “So you’re suggesting that the unsub grabbed her by her legs and she fell there on the arm?”
“Exactly! Yes, but there were no defensive wounds, and I found Rohypnol in each woman’s system, which a popular date rape drug.”
“Figures.” Agent Rossi pipes up but I can’t help but ignore him as I’m busy watching Spencer continue to analyze.
“Are these… rope marks?” He asks, pointing at the ankles.
I smile a bit dopily before I remember I’m being professional. “Zip ties actually..”
“Zip ties??” Spencer asks in surprise and almost a.. fond looking smile.
“Uh- yes…” I smile as I fumble through the papers in my hand. “I wasn’t sure what you guys would- would need so I put… these together..” I hand him a detailed file of all the information he could possibly need. I feel myself looking at him almost eagerly?
“These are wonderful thank you- thanks I’ll review these with the rest of the team I suppose-” He replies with a huge grin as he flips quickly through the files.
I nod in response, not sure if I should say anything, I’m just overly excited someone understands my line of work.
I feel a pair of eyes. I turn my head to look to the side where to my surprise the older agent stands there. His eyes are amused, his arms crossed as he leans back against the cold wall. I wonder what it’s about. I don’t care much about that though.. I decide that while I’m still high on this excitement I’d use whatever boldness I could muster up.
“Spencer..? Right?” I ask awkwardly, I know I’m right but didn’t know what else to say to grab his attention.
Looking up from the reports his eyebrows raise. “Yes that’s right…” he says expectantly.
“I know this is awfully unprofessional but do you think I could have your number..?” I ask with a flint of hope. My stomach flutters at your blushing cheeks.
“Y-yes, yeah of course…” he blushes and scrambles to his pocket for a pen, writing in the corner of a page in the file and tearing it out.
“Th-that’s me.. haha” he hands it to me, looking back at his grinning coworker.
“Thanks..” I smile wide as he checks his watch. I figured it wouldn’t be a long stay for them but I wish I got to speak with him longer.
I had checked so many times when doing ships last year to see if I had any new ones and none showed up 😭 I just checked out of curiosity and like 7 showed up but they’re a year old!
I’ll absolutely try to get to them im really sorry to ANYONE who asked for a ship, they’ll be a year late :<
reminder that even if drake bell was guilty, it does not diminish the fact that he was a fifteen year old boy taken advantage of and that should have never happened!!
his court case does not change that so many adults who were supposed to be looking out for him failed him. this goes for anybody.
i am not arguing with a single person on this! if ur gonna be gross, block me ❤️
a late night phone call with Spencer. unruly amounts of fluff. no gender identifiers in this one. apologies to residents of las vegas, i did insult your city's aesthetics. i had to do it. for the plot
word count: 2k
notes: this is a rework of a very old fic i used to have up on ao3 by the same name. it's the second in a series of fics i've updated from my vault of oldies :) this one's for the girlies who liked the banter in no vacancy <3 oops! all banter
“I miss you,” you say into your cell phone, standing on the back porch and gazing out at the sky. It’s late, but you can’t sleep. Spencer has been gone on a case for the better part of a week, and you don’t sleep as well without him.
“I miss you, too. But I’ll be home soon,” Spencer replies, keeping his voice low.
“Is everyone else asleep?”
“Yeah. It’s been a long day.”
“Where are you right now?” Even though you aren’t in danger of waking anyone up, you find yourself mirroring Spencer's tone.
“Best guess, somewhere over New Mexico.” They’ve been in the air about an hour, and given their trajectory, he’s pretty sure he’s right. Spencer is seated at the edge of the couch, his back against the arm of it and a blanket thrown over his legs, barely covering his mismatching-socked feet.
“How come you’re still up?”
“I wanted to talk to you,” he says. Somehow, he can feel you smiling across the line. It makes him smile, too. He doesn’t ask why you’re awake when it’s even later where you are; he knows already. "What are you doing?”
“Looking up at the stars.”
“You know, you won’t be able to see me up here.”
“Ha ha.”
“Here, I’ll open the shade on the plane window. At least we can share the same view.”
“Hm. Almost like we’re together,” you hum.
His heart aches. It’s only been a few days and he still can’t stand it. “Almost.”
For a minute, neither of you speak, looking out at the sky from two different time zones.
“When I wake up tomorrow morning, you’ll be here, right?”
“Mmhm. Maybe even before that,” he responds, a low, soothing hum in your ear.
“Should I stay up until you get here?” you already know what he'll say, but you kinda like the idea of it anyway.
“No, no, it’s at least another four hours. Don’t worry about it. When you wake up, I’ll be there.”
“Sounds good. I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
You’d intended to let him go after just a quick call once you realized that the rest of the team were resting not too far from him, but you don’t want to hang up. He doesn’t make any moves to do so either, wanting to hear your voice as much as you want to hear his. “So, how was Tucson?”
“Oh, you know. Hot. Desert-y. Lots of murder.”
“Less murder now.”
“Yeah.”
His voice sounds strained. He doesn’t like indulging in a sense of accomplishment after closing a case, doesn’t ever feel like he’s done enough. He shows up too late and does too little, and then he gets to leave while the families of the victims have to pick up the pieces. You understand why he doesn’t like to think about the work that way, but you’ve tried to remind him that the good he does is incalculable; how many lives saved, how many tragedies avoided. It’s all you can do.
You pivot a little, not wanting him to get too caught up. “I remember, when I first moved to Virginia, I was so shocked at how green everything was. I swore I’d never seen that much green in my life.”
“I had a similar experience,” he says, fondly, aware of your tactics.
“Oh, I can only imagine. I’ve been to Vegas. It’s icky.”
“Icky?” he asks, laughing at your word choice.
“I mean, no offense, but… it’s kinda ugly.”
“Wow, okay, insult my hometown, why don’t you.”
You laugh. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay. You’re right.”
“I know,” you sigh. “Always am.”
“Well, statistically, you actually have a seventy-two percent chance of being right, which is still impressive, but hardly a flawless track record.”
“Spencer Reid coming in hot with the stats. I love when you talk numbers to me.”
“I don’t think we’d have gotten very far if you didn’t.”
“But I think I should be right more often than that.”
“Are you asking me to fudge the numbers?” he asks with put-upon shock.
“I’m just saying, maybe you’ve got it wrong.”
“Oh, so you dare to challenge the accuracy of my eidetic memory? Or is it the statistics that you think I’ve calculated incorrectly?”
“This is affecting my score, isn’t it?”
“I’ll have to factor it in. You understand.”
You giggle, and Spencer starts to feel some warmth come back into him after too many days of stress, doubt, and destruction. He hadn’t been able to talk to you nearly as much as he wanted. And it was hard to talk to you on certain cases, to allow you to make him feel lighter when reality was so dark. When he felt so much weight on his shoulders, when he should be focusing on the profile and apprehending the unsub and… sometimes he just didn’t feel like he deserved to have that weight lifted by you, even for a little while.
“Spence?”
“Will you go inside?” he asks, his tone full of something like reverence for you. “Please?”
“If you insist,” you sigh, already opening the door.
“I do. I do insist, very forcefully.”
“I’m already inside with the door locked.”
“Man, I’m good.”
“Mmhm.”
“Going to bed?”
“Yeah. Will you talk to me for a few more minutes?” you ask, sliding under the covers. Spencer hears the slip of fabric as you pull them up over your shoulders, and it sharpens the ache he feels to be home with you already.
“I’ll talk to you for the rest of the night, if you want me to.”
“No, I don’t wanna keep you awake, too.”
“I probably won’t get much sleep regardless.”
“I don’t condone that,” you say, your frown evident in your voice.
“Noted,” he replies, though he sounds apologetic.
Four hours feels an eternity too long to wait. You miss Spencer, and you hate how tired he sounds. You want to fix things for him. You want to run your fingers through his hair til he falls asleep and you want to make sure his dreams are peaceful when he does.
“What do you wanna do when you’re back?” you ask, hoping that planning for it will make the time go faster.
“Oh, I’m taking a shower and getting right into bed. And you can’t make me get up.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”
“I’m serious. Don’t ask me to do a single other thing cause I won’t do it.”
You laugh. “For the whole day?”
“Probably. And you better not go anywhere either. We could both use the rest.”
“Okay, rest day all day.”
“We can order Thai though. So we’ll get up for that. But even then, it’s just to sit on the couch.”
“Maybe the floor.”
“I will also accept floor,” he concedes, and then it occurs to him that you might’ve been asking because you want to do something with him. “Is there something you wanted to do the next day though?”
“Well... the saucer magnolias are blooming at the Smithsonian again.”
“Say no more.”
You sigh wistfully. “You’re my favorite boyfriend I’ve ever had.”
“Well, I should hope so,” he says, smiling. “You’re my favorite, too.”
“Aren’t I the only partner you’ve ever had?”
“Ha ha. I had a girlfriend in college.”
“Spencer, you were like sixteen in college.”
“I wasn’t sixteen the entire time,” you hear the eye roll in his voice, “I have three PhD’s, it took me a little while.”
“Well, who is this girl? Do I need to beat her up?” you joke.
“No,” he laughs. “You are my favorite, after all. She wasn’t very nice to me.”
“Okay… so you told me not to beat her up but then gave a reason why I should?”
“Please don’t beat up my ex-girlfriend. I do appreciate your violent impulses though.”
“Mm, okay. As long as you know I could.”
“Sure, angel. You’re very scary,” he placates.
You let out a little gremlin laugh.
“Oh, and you’re delirious,” he notes, an amused lilt to his tone.
“Delirious because I miss you,” you sing, dragging out the ‘you’.
“God, where did I even find a weirdo like you,” Spencer laughs.
“I found you. You attracted me with your peculiar aura and soulful eyes. Trapped me in your… fucking what’s-it-called. Tractor beam.”
“You know, the term tractor beam was actually coined by science fiction author E.E. Smith in 1931 as an updated version of his original term ‘attractor beam.’”
“Hmm, yup. You caught me in that.”
“Did you call my eyes soulful?” he asks, seemingly just processing that part.
“Oh, you don’t like my adjective choice? Next you’ll have a problem with me calling your aura peculiar.”
“I mean… I don’t know that I loved it.”
“Here he goes fishing for compliments,” you sigh, rolling over to your other side and creating a bunch of shuffling noise on the line. Spencer wrinkles his nose, holding the phone a little farther from his ear until he hears you speaking again. “Okay, your eyes are big and brown and beautiful and they contain a standard unremarkable amount of soul, and your aura is also really regular. Regular Reid, that’s what they call ya.”
He’s frowning, you can practically see it, but he’s also fighting off an amused smile. “Well, that one started off nice, at least.”
“God! You’re so difficult. My boyfriend is sooo difficult. Why don’t you come home to me first and then I’ll come up with some more adequate compliments?”
“I’m going to hold you to that.”
The two of you talk for a little while longer, with you telling Spencer about the new coffee shop you’d tried out and how their lavender latte actually tastes like lavender, which is basically unheard of. Spencer tells you about the standoff between him and an all too curious roadrunner that he swears was trying to get into his motel room. Calling it a standoff is generous; the man got bullied by a bird.
You try not to laugh and end up unsuccessful, with Spencer insisting that you were taking sides and he was well and truly in danger, which only makes it funnier. His voice pitches up even as he tries to keep his volume low, and you argue that his energy is just so attractive that even the local wildlife are drawn to him.
“Don’t start,” he warns, overwhelming fondness in his voice.
You make Spencer tell you something boring to calm yourself down from the image you’ve conjured of him being chased by a roadrunner, which, in your exhausted state, is even funnier than it should be. He claims to regret confiding in you with this, but he knows he’d do it again just to hear you laugh.
Instead of telling you something boring, he recites some of the poems he’s memorized over the years. It works the way you’d intended, and you regret it when you have to stop him to tell him you’re falling asleep. He’s just a little smug about it.
“So, you’ll be home in four hours?” you ask, the start of your goodbyes.
“More like three now.”
“We made time go faster.”
“We did.”
“Will you try to get some sleep?”
“Fine. Only because you asked.”
You hum, victorious. “Goodnight. I love you.”
“And I love you.”
Hours later, just as the sun is beginning to change the hue of the sky from deep navy to a hazy cerulean glow, you feel your mattress shift underneath you. You’re barely awake, but still you register the scent of Spencer’s shower gel, fresh and sort of woodsy.
Half asleep, you shift to accommodate him, and he slips an arm around you as you lay your head on his chest. You wrap an arm around his torso and throw your leg over his hips, as close as you can possibly get without literally being on top of him.
You sigh, deep and relieved, and Spencer’s heart stutters.
“I missed this,” he chuckles, resting his cheek against the top of your head and wrapping his arms tighter around you. You just hum in response, the last of your energy before you’re pulled back under. Within minutes, Spencer is asleep too, and the two of you sleep through sunrise and into the afternoon.
I write like so much angst it feels like annnd I listen to sad music and I enjoy it but then I actually get sad and it’s like- 😐 not what Bestie signed up for. Anywhooo I’m rlly hoping to start writing again HAZAH! Happy holidays everyone!
Ooo if anyone takes requests for Willy Wonka (2023), I have an idea/request!!!
Wonka x pregnant!fem!reader where she’s has a not so great husband, so she leaves to go somewhere safe for her and her future baby (she pregnant with a babygirl). She finds Scrubit and Bleachers sanctuary (or rather they find her… And offer a safe place to sleep). Needing a place to stay, she doesn’t read the whole contract, she ends up getting trapped there like the others. When Willy gets trapped down there, Y/n has already had her baby. Willy and Y/n have an immediate connection and fall in love during their time down there, and Willy becomes a father to Y/n’s daughter🥺🥺 Him insuring Y/n that he will get them out of there one day, and take care of them when he gets his chocolate shop. Etc 🥺🥺🥺
Ooo if anyone takes requests for Willy Wonka (2023), I have an idea/request!!!
Wonka x pregnant!fem!reader where she’s has a not so great husband, so she leaves to go somewhere safe for her and her future baby (she pregnant with a babygirl). She finds Scrubit and Bleachers sanctuary (or rather they find her… And offer a safe place to sleep). Needing a place to stay, she doesn’t read the whole contract, she ends up getting trapped there like the others. When Willy gets trapped down there, Y/n has already had her baby. Willy and Y/n have an immediate connection and fall in love during their time down there, and Willy becomes a father to Y/n’s daughter🥺🥺 Him insuring Y/n that he will get them out of there one day, and take care of them when he gets his chocolate shop. Etc 🥺🥺🥺
