summary: in which spencer reid discovers his teenage daughter has a boyfriend, and struggles to wrap his head around the fact that she's growing up faster than he expected.
contents: girl dad!spencer, fluff + a hint of angst (if you squint), no use of y/n, bascially just spencer spiralling the entire time and reader teasing him for it.
wc: 1.7k
Living in a house with a teenager meant Spencer Reid was used to noise.
Doors slamming. Music playing. The occasional dramatic yell that carried through the walls. He'd adjusted to all of it over the years, learned which sounds meant irritation, which meant exhaustion, and which meant he should give her space.
When the front door closed quietly, Spencer looked up.
Then he heard it.
Giggling.
And a second set of footsteps.
Jane stopped short when she saw him.
"Oh," she said, blinking once. "Dad, you're home early."
"We got back a few hours ago," Spencer replied, but his focus had already shifted.
There was a boy standing next to her. Spencer's eyes dropped, almost involuntarily, to where their hands had been loosely linked.
Jane followed his gaze and immediately let go, clearing her throat.
"Um," she said, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. "I didn't know you were coming back today."
"We wrapped up rather quickly," Spencer started. "Who's this?"
The boy shifted, straightening a little.
"Oh, um, this is Drew," she muttered, mostly to herself. "He's in my chem class. We—uh—we've been studying together."
And then Jane said three words that completely tilted his world on its axis.
"He's my boyfriend."
Drew nodded once, stepping forward with his hand extended. "It's nice to meet you, Mr. Reid."
Spencer stared at his extended hand but made no effort to shake it. Drew noticed that, and cleared his throat as he lowered it. He looked visibly shaken, and Spencer swore he saw him tremble.
"How long has this been going on?" Spencer asked, frowning.
"Dad," Jane muttered under her breath.
Drew hesitated, glancing at her before answering. "Um...about a month."
A month.
Spencer's mind moved automatically. He'd noticed Jane spending more time in her room lately, always checking her phone. He didn't think anything of it at the time, because he'd stupidly assumed he didn't have to worry about the idea of her having a boyfriend yet.
He thought he had more time before this happened. He hadn't adequately prepared for the implications that came with his daughter having a boyfriend.
"And you didn't think to mention that?" he said, looking at Jane now.
She sighed, already wanting to escape this conversation. "I was going to."
"When?"
"I don't know," she said defensively. "Soon?"
"That's incredibly ambiguous."
"I was waiting for the right time to bring it up," she retorted.
Spencer opened his mouth to respond, but he wasn't sure what exactly to say.
Drew shifted again, clearly aware that the conversation was slipping out of his depth. "I just came by to study," he added a little too quickly. "We have a chem test tomorrow."
Spencer looked at Drew again. There wasn't anything outwardly wrong with him. He seemed respectable enough. He looked like he was trying very hard to be polite, which Spencer supposed was an admirable quality.
Jane was still young. She was only sixteen. Smart—too smart, sometimes. She saw things other people missed, picked up on things quickly, and understood more than most of her peers. Spencer remembered what it was like to be her age, feeling like an outcast. He'd done everything in his power to give her a somewhat normal childhood so she could avoid ending up like him.
Spencer had spent years quietly hoping that when this part of her life started, it wouldn't be with someone who overlooked the things that made her special. Or worse, someone who made her feel like she had to minimize them.
"You study together?" Spencer questioned. Drew nodded. "Would you say you get good grades?"
"Mostly A's," Drew admitted with a nervous chuckle.
"Mostly?" Spencer echoed, raising an eyebrow. Drew's face paled, like he quickly realized that was the wrong thing to say. "Not all?"
"Oh my god," Jane muttered, clearly embarrassed of him. "We're going upstairs," she said, gripping his hand once more. "Stop being so weird."
Spencer tensed up immediately. "Upstairs?"
"Obviously," Jane replied, growing annoyed with him. "It's quieter up there. You weren't expecting us to study down here, were you?"
His mind raced with possibilities. Too many, all at once. Spencer was used to thinking about every variable, every outcome. He considered every possibly shift in a situation whether he wanted to or not.
Right now, that particular skill was not doing him any good.
Because upstairs meant her bedroom. Her bedroom was a closed, private space. Privacy led to unobserved, uninterrupted time where things could escalate without anyone noticing.
"Door stays open," he said quickly. "Please."
"Are you serious?" Jane scoffed, watching him to see if he would back down. "We're just studying."
He didn't back down.
Jane sighed, muttering something under her breath about how he was so uncool. "Fine, whatever. Door stays open."
"Thank you!" Spencer called out as she led him up the stairs. Jane didn't respond.
Her willingness to agree should have made him feel better.
It did not.
Spencer stood there for a moment longer, staring at the staircase like he could somehow account for everything happening above him if he focused hard enough.
It was quiet.
Too quiet. He could not decide if that was a good thing or a bad thing.
He exhaled slowly, pressing his fingers to his temple. He knew he was being irrational, but it didn't change his feelings.
Statistically, developmentally, socially—this was normal. Sixteen-year-olds dated. And yet, he could not wrap his head around the fact that his sixteen-year-old was dating.
He took a hesitant step forward, pacing across the living room, eyes flicking toward the stairs once more.
Should he be checking on them?
He took a step closer to the stairs, but paused when the door opened.
Spencer turned immediately, seeing his wife step inside with a grocery bag in her hand. You paused when you noticed him standing there, a smile immediately taking over your face.
"Hey, I didn't know you were home!" you said excitedly, setting the bag on the counter so you could walk over to him. You leaned up and pressed a kiss to his mouth, still grinning. "This is a nice surprise."
You frowned when you noticed the panicked look on his face. "What's wrong?"
Spencer stared at his wife for a half a second like he wasn't sure where to start. "Jane has a boyfriend," he said.
You blinked once. "Oh," you said. "Yeah."
Spencer froze. "Yeah?"
"I know that already," you replied, shrugging.
"You—" He let out a short, disbelieving breath. "You know?"
"Yeah. She told me."
"When was this?" He demanded.
"A few weeks ago."
Spencer just stared at you.
"You knew," he repeated slowly, like he was testing his words. "And you didn't tell me?"
"I was sworn to secrecy," you replied, as if that were supposed to make him feel better. "She wanted to tell you herself."
"She didn't," he said.
"She was going to," you reminded him.
"When?"
His wife had sighed, giving him a look. "When she was ready?"
Spencer ran a hand through his hair, pacing again. "She came over with him. They're upstairs now. What should we do?"
"What should we do?" you echoed. "Spencer...we don't do anything."
Spencer stared at you like that answer didn't compute. "They're upstairs," he said again, like maybe you hadn't understood the first time. "In her room!"
"I know," you said through a giggle.
He exhaled sharply, pacing once more, fingers dragging through his hair. Sixteen years ago, Derek had laughed as Spencer held his newborn daughter and warned him that this day would come.
"I thought we had more time," he said, quieter now.
That was the part that kept catching on something inside of him. The shift felt so abrupt. Like he'd missed a step somewhere, like there had been a moment where everything shifted and he hadn't noticed.
It felt like just yesterday, Jane had been sitting on his shoulders, babbling to him about all the animals at the zoo.
And now, she was upstairs in her bedroom, with a boy she hadn't told him about.
"She's growing up too fast," he said. "She's too young for a boyfriend."
"Says who?" you mused.
Spencer opened his mouth, then shut it once more. He couldn't come up with a good enough response.
"Didn't you already have a PhD at her age?" you asked lightly, folding your arms across your chest. "I don't think that makes you the expert on being a sixteen-year-old with a social life."
"That's completely different," he said, shaking his head.
"Is it?" you questioned, tilting your head at him.
"The prefrontal cortex is still developing at sixteen, which directly impacts impulse control, risk assessment, and decision-making. There are entire studies that show adolescents are significantly more likely to engage in behaviour without fully evaluating the consequences, especially in emotionally heightened situations, such as relationships—"
You watched him carefully, the way his thoughts seemed to endlessly stack, building into something heavy weighing on his mind.
"Spencer," you said softly. "She's growing up."
"I thought I'd recognize when it happened," he admitted.
"When what happened?"
"When she stopped needing me."
You stepped closer, reaching for his hand. "You're her dad, Spence. Of course she needs you. Just...in a different way now."
Spencer paused, considering your words for a second. He always felt like being a parent was uncharted waters for him, but it felt even more difficult now that Jane was a teenager. He'd never even gotten the chance to be a proper teenager, which meant he didn't know how to help his daughter navigate through this part of her life.
Upstairs, Jane's voice drifted down into the kitchen. He could hear her laughing.
Spencer's gaze lifted instinctively, glancing toward the stairs once more.
"She's okay," you reminded him.
"I know that."
He hesitated for a moment.
"I just—" he started, then stopped again. "I let Jane borrow one of my books last week. And I need it back."
You blinked once, smiling at him in that knowing way of yours. "You need it back right now?"
"It's my favourite copy," he added, a little too quickly. "And Jane has a tendency to dog-ear my books, which she knows I despise, so I should probably just go get it—"
You watched with an amused expression as he inched toward the stairs. "Spencer."
"I'll be quick," he said, turning toward the stairs.
You leaned against the counter, still smiling to yourself.
Because despite all of of his brilliance, this was the one thing he couldn't quite solve.
you find your daughter using her dad as a human canvas.
wc: ~500
warnings: suggestive toward the end??? DAD SPENCER OMGOMGOMG
The air is warm like the coffee in your hand. It wraps around you like a soft blanket and holds you tight. It’s the kind of feeling you get after sleeping in until nine o’clock.
Three years ago you would’ve laughed at the prospect of nine ever being considered early. Now you’re grateful for a morning as late as seven.
You take a step toward the door of your daughter’s room. The three year old turns to you and smiles. So does her dad.
Spencer sits, or rather, squats at her small princess table, hands sprawled across the surface. Your daughter holds a paintbrush in her hand.
“Mommy!” she cries happily. “Look what I did!”
Your eyes find the artful masterpiece that is her father—her fathers hands, that is. The skin is covered in various colours, small flowers and suns drawn around each finger. Your face brightens and you give a proud, “wow!”
“I look great, don’t I?” says Spencer.
“Very.”
His hands rest on the pink table, almost taking up the whole thing. Your daughter’s fingers maneuver his to her liking. “Daddy so pretty,” she giggles.
“He’s very pretty! How about I get you some breakfast while daddy cleans up, okay, baby?” you suggest softly.
With a nod, she agrees and takes your hand.
It isn’t often you get to enjoy your mornings slowly, sans toddler waking you. But, with a husband like Spencer, these dawns come more frequently than other women in your position. So every time you get even a blink of extra sleep, you know it’s due to your husband’s efficiency in the redirection of your child. Every where’s mommy? met with a did you know that….
You watch Spencer wash his hands of the paint in the kitchen sink, keeping one eye on the three-year-old. She spins in the living room, finding much amusement in how her dress floats with every turn.
“What time did she wake you up?”
He grabs the towel hanging on the cupboard. “Oh, she didn’t.”
Your eyebrow raises.
“I was already up,” he mutters because he already knows what you’re about to say.
“Why aren’t you sleeping? I told you to wake me up next time you can’t sleep.” You brush a curl behind his ear.
A small half laugh leaves him.
“And what would you do? I’d just be keeping you awake for the sake of making you suffer with me.”
“Maybe I could’ve found a way to get you back to sleep…” you shrug.
The tip of his nose and the apples of his cheeks turn pink.
Spencer knew that the first 48 hours in an abduction case were the most important.
That's why, as the minutes and seconds ticked by and he saw they still hadn't found your location, he began to get visibly nervous. JJ offered a sad smile before slowly and gently approaching him.
"We're going to find her, Spence, I promise," she whispered, making the genius nod slowly.
"I know," he murmured, crossing his arms. "García, have you found anything else that might give us a clue as to where the unsub might have gone?"
"Security cameras at a gas station captured these images five minutes ago," he said, turning the computer so everyone could see them.
Spencer gritted his teeth as he watched the unsub lock you inside the car while he pulled into the gas station to refuel.
You tried to open the door, but it was impossible.
Then you tried to break the glass, but you couldn't do that either.
"Garcia, freeze the image," he asked, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Rewind," he murmured, advancing exactly one minute and sixty seconds. "Stop," he said, before placing his finger on the vehicle's window. "That's not glass," he whispered, looking at the rest of the team.
"What do you mean?" Morgan asked, looking at the Doctor attentively.
"Those windows aren't made of glass," he explained. "If they were, Y/N could have broken it and gotten out without any problems, but when she hit it with her elbow, it didn't budge an inch," he murmured, "which leads me to the conclusion that they're made of polymethyl methacrylate, also called PMMA or acrylic." It's commonly used in…
"Get to the point, Reid, please" Hotch said politely, making him nod.
"PMMA is a very insulating material," he said. "The reason she was banging on the windows, besides trying to escape, is because she's running out of air," he muttered. "She's suffocating in there."
Morgan swore under his breath, as JJ exchanged a glance with Hotch and Emily.
"How much oxygen does she have left?" “—Prentiss asked—
“Given that gas station is about twenty kilometers from here, and acrylic is a fairly dense and heavy material, she has an hour or two before she really starts to suffocate.”
“Okay, no time to lose, we’re leaving right now,” Hotch said. “Garcia, send us the location.”
“As fast as the wind goes, sir” she replied, starting to type on her laptop.
Reid, JJ, and Morgan got into one of the cars, while Emily and Hotch followed closely behind in the second.
Derek drove quickly to the location Garcia had sent them.
They arrived quickly, and as soon as they did, Reid reached for his gun. He had a strong feeling that something wasn’t right.
The fact that everything was so quiet couldn’t be a good sign.
There was no one there. No trace of the car, of you, or of course, of the unsub. They searched the gas station.
Emily, JJ, and Hotch went to the restrooms, while Morgan and Reid combed the store.
"Clear!" Reid said, before holstering his weapon again.
"Hotch, there's nobody here," Morgan revealed over the communicator.
"Clear here too," he replied. "Garcia?"
"The unsub's car just drove past a convenience store two kilometers ahead of you," he said. "Oh my God, he's going into the woods."
"Don't lose him, we're going there" Hotch replied, as everyone quickly headed to the cars.
Upon arriving at the location the analyst had indicated, Spencer noticed the fresh tire tracks on the ground, a clear sign that a car had just driven over there three minutes earlier.
The team advanced through the woods with their weapons at the ready.
JJ shone the flashlight ahead, illuminating the path, while the others covered their backs.
That's when Spencer saw the car, next to a figure with his back to him.
He nodded to the others to let them know he'd found him, the unsub.
"FBI, don't move! Put your hands where I can see them!" Hotch shouted.
The man turned slowly toward you, a maniacal smile on his lips.
He scanned them all before focusing on Reid, who met his gaze firmly.
"You're him," he said simply. "She talked about you a lot, you know?" "Her dear Doctor" he said sarcastically, making Spencer tense from head to toe, "before things took a turn for the worse, she told me to tell you she loved you." His smile widened. "She knew she was going to die, and her last words were for someone who wasn't even there…"
"That's enough," he cut him off, fixing his gaze on him. "Don't say another word, you…"
"Spence," JJ whispered, "we'll take care of it." He gestured toward the car. "Go with her."
The man didn't take his eyes off Spencer for a moment as he approached the car they had come in.
He was gone, and he was taking a hammer out of the trunk.
He looked through the windows, and when he saw you lying across the seats, he broke the window and quickly opened the door.
He slowly turned you over and placed his index and middle fingers on the area of your neck where your pulse was beating.
"You're alive," he whispered, on the verge of tears. "You're alive," he repeated, pulling you into his arms.
Morgan was the first to arrive, followed by JJ.
They glanced between him and you before moving quickly without asking any questions.
The ambulance arrived quickly, and after speaking with the paramedics, they agreed to let Reid accompany you inside the ambulance on the way to the hospital, while the rest of the team followed in the car.
"She's been drugged with MDMA," he told the doctors, who looked at him as if he were from another planet. "Judging by the purple color of her lips, the unsub injected a gram and a half" he explained. "If we don't get there soon, she'll die of an overdose."
"Don't worry, everything is under control," the doctor reassured him, while connecting an IV to keep your vital signs stable.
After that, you slowly opened your eyes in the hospital bed.
The light hurt your eyes because of the brightness, and you had blurry details of what had happened, but the first thing you thought was how worried the team must be.
Especially…
You tilted your head to see a sleeping Spencer, who had fallen asleep in the chair next to your bed.
You managed a weak smile before trying to reach out to him.
"Spencer…" you murmured.
He slowly opened his eyes, and when they met yours, you knew that whatever happened in the future, everything was going to be alright.
"Y/N," he whispered, looking at you gently, "you're awake."
"It seems so, yes" you murmured. "How long have I been unconscious?"
"Three days, seventy-two hours, and 3,800 seconds," he said, making you smile. "How are you feeling?"
"Like I was just kidnapped by a psychopath with a God complex," you murmured. "Oh wait, that's EXACTLY what happened."
"You're making jokes" he said. "That's a sign you're recovering well," he murmured. "I'm glad to hear that."
You were silent for a moment until you spoke again.
"The team… Have you…?" “We have him,” he affirmed. “He won’t hurt anyone else again.” He nervously intertwined his fingers. “Y/N, I… when I found you unconscious in the car, I thought I’d lost you. We ALL thought that” he corrected himself. “I’ve never been more terrified in my entire life than I was at that moment.”
“Oh, Spence. I’m so sorry you had to go through all that because of me. I…” You shook your head. “You don’t deserve this. NO ONE deserves this.” You stared at him for a moment. “Did he… did he say anything to you before you arrested him?”
Spencer remained silent for a few moments before slowly nodding and tucking a strand of hair behind his ear.
"He told me you were dead," he blurted out, recounting it word for word, thanks to his eidetic memory. "He said your last words were for me," he continued. "You asked him to tell me that… you… you loved me" he murmured, pressing his lips into a thin line.
"I thought I was going to die, Spence" you whispered, "and in the last second before losing consciousness, your face appeared in my mind, and I…" Tears began to stream down your cheeks. "I remember crying with anger and sorrow at the same time, because I was going to die without having told you myself that I loved you," you murmured. "I felt so much sorrow, I thought I would die from the pain in my heart."
"Scientifically, your heart can't hurt, since what really hurts are the veins that surround it and through which both blood and oxygen flow." "It runs through your whole body," he explained, making you smile.
"It was just a figure of speech, Spence," you murmured, making him press his lips together in a shy smile.
"Of course," he whispered, "so… Y-you really…?"
"Of course it is" you smiled, "I love you, Dr Reid"
"I…" he swallowed hard before adding, "…I love you too, Y/N."
Saw some ppl on twt wondering if Spencer talked about kids with Maeve or not and it’s honestly such a good point. Sometimes u have to criticise ur faves and i feel like this is one of those moments bc I honestly don’t believe Spencer did talk about it with her. I think a pretty key aspect of their relationship was just how little they actually knew about each other and yet spencer had planned his future with her. It’s quite naive of him to believe she would want kids but I think that emphasises the fact that this is (probably) his first relationship. I do think it’s somewhat internalised misogyny tho and as someone who thinks pregnancy is one of the most complicated aspects of a long term relationship it kinda annoys me that Spencer assumes Maeve would be comfortable with wanting kids. I guess it shld be considered that maybe he wanted to adopt bc of his anxieties abt schizophrenia but no matter what he’s being overly presumptuous about this ideal woman he’s come up with. The question will always be ‘would they have lasted if she made it?’. Tbh I honestly don’t think they would have just because of circumstance. Spencer only knew her over the phone for so long that his idea of her was probably so different from reality, presumably the same for Maeve. There would have had to have been more ‘she’s engaged???’ Moments yk
tbh i’ve always seen this as he just simply idealized her because he did not have enough time to actually know her, because she died. she died and he held onto her and created something on his head.
and i just don’t think it’s misogyny to assume she would want have kids, i don’t really think it’s that deep. (and this is coming from someone who is terrified of the mere idea of being pregnant.
Heeyyy hope you’re doing good! I wanted to request a reid x reader where the reader gets jealous because some girl starts flirting with reid at a bar in Vegas or something like that
“really?”
pairing: fem!reader x reid
summary: prompt :)
warnings: established relationship, jealousy, girl flirting with reid, reader is a bit insecure???
a/n: this one is short but I hope you like it 🫶🏻
Vegas was loud in the way only Vegas could be—neon lights, slot machines screaming for attention, people who looked like they’d been awake for forty hours straight.
But after closing the case, the team had agreed on one thing:
One drink.
Just one.
You and Spencer sat together in a small booth, pressed a little too close for two “coworkers.” His hand brushed yours under the table every few seconds—quiet, secret little touches that kept your heart doing cartwheels.
The team didn’t know you were together.
Not yet.
You and Spencer had agreed to keep things private for a while.
But watching him now, laughing softly at something JJ said, you felt a wave of affection so strong you almost forgot the whole “secret” part.
Almost.
When Spencer went to the bar to grab your drinks, you watched him go with a stupid smile. His curls were a bit messy from the long day, his shoulders slouched with that soft tiredness he always got after a case.
You adored him.
But apparently… someone else did too.
A woman—not just pretty, but Vegas-pretty, all long legs, smoky eyeliner, and a glittery dress—slid right up beside him at the bar. Leaned on the counter. Smiled way too sweetly.
And then she touched his arm.
You blinked.
No.
Nope.
Absolutely not.
Morgan followed your gaze and grinned.
“Oh, you’ve got that look.”
“What look?” you said, way too fast.
“That ‘I’m about to commit a misdemeanor in public’ look.”
“I don’t— I’m not—” You hissed, waving him off. “We’re literally just getting drinks.”
Morgan chuckled. “Mhm. Sure.”
Your eyes snapped back to Spencer.
He looked… confused.
Polite smile.
Doing that soft, awkward laugh he did when someone was being bold and he didn’t know how to react.
She leaned in closer.
You were up before your brain even caught up.
You marched across the bar, your steps sharp, your jaw tight. Spencer turned just as you reached him—his eyes lighting up like you hung the whole damn moon.
“There you are,” he said, relief pouring through every word.
The girl glanced at you, annoyed.
“Oh… is this your friend?”
You didn’t hesitate.
“No,” you said, sliding your arm through Spencer’s with casual confidence.
“I’m his partner.”
Spencer froze.
The girl’s face dropped.
“Partner? Like… work partner?”
“No.”
You smiled, slow and dangerous.
“Like relationship partner.”
Spencer’s cheeks went pink instantly—but he nodded, leaning into you like it was instinct.
“Yes,” he said softly.
“She’s my girlfriend.”
Your heart practically melted into the floor.
The girl blinked, awkward, stumbling over her words. “Oh—well—um—sorry, I didn’t know—”
“No worries,” you said sweetly. “You know now.”
She disappeared fast.
Spencer stared at you with the softest expression—half amused, half smitten.
“You were jealous,” he said quietly, voice warm.
“No, I wasn’t.”
“You absolutely were.”
“I wasn’t!”
He nudged you gently, leaning down so his lips brushed your ear.
“I think it’s cute.”
You nearly combusted on the spot.
“You’re insufferable,” you whispered, cheeks burning.
He smiled, eyes shining.
“And you’re adorable when you’re protective.”
You swallowed, fighting a grin.
“Come on,” he murmured, threading his fingers through yours under the bar counter. “Let’s go back before Morgan starts taking bets on how long it takes us to make this public.”
You laughed.
“You think he knows?”
Spencer squeezed your hand.
“Oh, he definitely knows.”
And when he pressed a soft kiss to your temple—quick, hidden, just for you—you knew something else too:
You wouldn’t mind the team finding out.
Not at all.
author’s note: hiii, thank you for reading!!! don’t forget to like and repost 🤍
warnings: swearing, mentions to sex/allusions to sex, allusions to violence, plot with little porn :c
authors note: this is going to be a 2 parter probs as this ended up being lengthy as fuck, got a bit carried away LOL. NICK MY BELOVED COME TO ME PLS GOD
You and Nick had been partners for going on almost two years now, having each others back no matter what. If someone were to happen to one of you, the other would be there to help regardless of the situation. He wasn't your first partner, but he certainly was your favourite.
That was until one particular case. It had been a shit one, no leads, no evidence, nothing. Nada. You were doing everything in your power to get the case moving, knocking on doors, canvassing, interviews, you name it. Amaro had seen that you were exhausted beyond comprehension, though, he knew you had a tendency to not sleep and focus solely on the case, ensuring the victims get justice and the person responsible gets convicted. That's why he double checked with Cragen and sent you home, offering to cover for you and inform you with any changes in the case.
Unfortunately, the perp you were hunting had turned the tables -- hunting you instead. You were in his crosshairs. The darkness of your apartment hid his form, enough for you to get into bed without a care in the world, sleep the only thing on your mind.
He waited, and he waited, making sure you were sound asleep before creating enough noise to stir you awake. He wanted you frightened. The sound woke you from your luscious slumber, the sight of the masked man looming of your bed with a gun pointed at you was the only thing you could see and focus on. The panic was real, the fight or flight instinct setting in. You tried to reach into your bedside table to grab your gun, causing the intruder to pistol whip you with his.
"Should've left it alone," he spat at you, laughing and no doubt grinning behind his mask. The throbbing on your face made you wince, blood coated the inside of your mouth. Before you could even ground yourself and figure out a way out the situation, he placed his finger over the trigger and pressed it, sending a bullet directly into your stomach.
You hadn't even realised what had happened, only aware of the sound of the gun reverberating throughout your bedroom, blood seeping in to your bedsheets.
Once you eventually came to, you were in a hospital bed, the beeping signifying you were very much alive -- in a shitload of pain -- but alive. Liv was at the side of your bed, smiling at you when you woke up which you were glad about, you will always be grateful for that.
After a few weeks of recovery, physical therapy and counselling, you had been cleared for desk duty (much to your dismay, you had always hated riding the desk). Upon your arrival, the squad clapped you into the bullpen, everyone glad to see you alive and well. You were glad to see them all, well, almost all of them.
The next few weeks of riding the desk went somewhat well, boring, but okay. Your body was healing, you had found the bastard who shot you, and you had been feeling better in and of yourself. Your partner, Nick, made himself rather scarce though -- which you were glad about. After what happened, you couldn't look at him the same way anymore.
Today, you were sat doing paperwork like any other day, the bullpen rather empty as it was late at night. The only other sign of life was your partner, Amaro. He, too, seemed like he was doing paperwork.
After a while, you hand at started to cramp from all the scrawling on endless amounts of paperwork and your stomach started to throb, still a little bit raw from the shooting. Groaning in pain, you threw the pen down and leaned back in your hair, stretching your muscles out.
Nick's eyes flicked up to your desk, scanning over you. Chewing the inside of his mouth, he said, "You okay?"
Not bothering to look up, you replied a simple "Fine.", bitterness coating the word. He furrowed his eyebrows at that, slightly hurt at your tone. He debated whether to respond or just go back to the sheets of paper in front of him that needed signing.
"Uh," he cleared his throat, "sure."
Narrowing your eyes at him, finally daring to look at his handsome annoying face, "What's that supposed to mean?" You asked, head cocking to the side in question.
Shrugging, he continued writing, "Nothin', just doesn't sound like it."
You scoffed at that, how did he have the nerve? "So you, what? Suddenly want to check if I'm alright?" You got up and moved to the break room, your mug firm in your grasp. You needed coffee if you were going to be dealing with this. "You kind of lost that privilege, Amaro."
The use of his last name stung. Since being partners, you very rarely, if ever, used his last name. It was always Nick or his particular favourite, Nicky. Deciding to follow you, the man put his pen down and kicked his chair back, walking towards where you were in the break room.
"I just think you should go home, Y/N," he sighed, "You've been here every night for almost two weeks. You're going to make yourself sick." He ran his fingers through his hair, watching you pour your coffee into your mug before slamming it down on the side. He was surprised it didn't break the damn thing with the amount of force you used.
You turned to face him, pain evident in your eyes, the look itself making Nick's heart clench slightly. "The last time you sent me home, Amaro, it got me shot." You spat at him, grabbing the mug back off the side and shoving yourself past him.
Not thinking clearly, Nick grabbed your wrist and turned you round to face him, so close your noses could almost touch. "You don't get to do that," he whispered at you, eyes flicking between yours, watching your every move like prey. "I was the one who found you. Just laying there. In a pool of your own blood. You looked d--" he took a deep breath before continuing, "--you looked dead. I thought you were dead."
Wrenching your wrist out of his grasp, you took a step back. You were about to speak, "I--"
"Shut up," he cut you off, making you flinch somewhat at his tone, "I took you to the hospital, I watched as they rushed you into the OR and I was there every. fucking. day. I cleaned your house, brought you new bedsheets, and I washed your own blood off the walls that that bastard used to write that shit with." His chest was heaving as he spoke.
You laughed menacingly at him, rolling your eyes. What he was saying should have made you feel bad for him, make you sad or make you feel better, but it only made you angry. "You want sympathy or something? I didn't ask you to do any of that!" You shouted at him, hands flailing about as you did. You were somewhat glad that no one else was in the building at this godforsaken hour.
"You didn't have to!" He was borderline yelling now walking towards you to the point your back hit the wall, "You're my partner," his eyes flickered down from your eyes to your lips and back up to your eyes again, "We have each others backs, no matter what it is. You know that!"
Swallowing the lump in your throat, your previous anger now diminishing into nervousness, extremely aware of the close proximity of each other. Yes, you had always found him incredibly attractive, but he was your partner. That's all it ever would be.
Nick watched as your breathing became deeper, your chest rising and falling -- bringing attention to your tits and how they were accentuated with every breath. You finally had the courage to look in his eyes, noting the lust-ridden look in his eyes and how it made a pool of heat gather in your lower abdomen. The Cuban man smirked at you, "So don't bullshit me, Y/N, you know I would do anything for you. I would kill for you."
Feeling a sense of empowerment, you grabbed the mans tie and pulled him towards you, your lips finally crashing into one another. His tongue worked his way into your mouth, exploring it and mapping it. Moaning into his mouth, the familiar feeling of wetness beginning to gather in your underwear.
Nick's hands gathered behind your head and gripped the roots of your hair, pulling hard enough to elicit a moan. "Oh," he grinned, "you like that?" He asked teasingly.
"Nick," you whined, "please." Your hands clumsily tried to find his belt buckle. You probably looked ridiculous and even down-right desperate, but you needed him. Bad.
Amaro pulled away at that, hands leaving your hair and putting space between the two of you, making you look at him with furrowed brows. Confusion etched onto your features. Did you do something wrong?
Sensing your panic (he always knew when something was wrong), "Baby girl, if I'm going to fuck the ever-living shit out of you," he spoke sensually, moving to push a piece of your hair behind your ears, hands ghosting over your face, "it's going to be in my bed, where only I can hear your pretty little sounds." His words made your core tighten, your mind racing with nothing but the thought of your partner fucking you.
Nick grabbed your hand and led you out the break room, "Where are we going?" You asked, somewhat dumbly, following behind him like a lost puppy.
"My house." He replied simply, grabbing his coat, his bag and your bag.
"But what about the paperwork?" You don't even know why you were still talking at this point, you should learn to shut the fuck up.
"Fuck the paperwork," he shrugged, his hand still in yours and practically dragging you towards the elevator "if I'm going to be doing anything on a desk right now, its going to be you."
Clueless (Part 6): Moving on (Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader)
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(Not my gif)
Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / / Part 8 / Part 9
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Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader; Spencer Reid x Valerie Smith.
Summary: Spencer convinced himself that he is a different person now and that he needs a change in his life. Reader struggles thinking about what’s best for her.
Word Count: 2.1k
Warnings: Angst/Hurt. Some strong words, because they are necessary here, trust me. Implicit sex. If I forgot something, please tell me.
A/N: What do you think? Valerie has good intentions after all?
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There could be many reasons why Spencer Reid might have tried to justify his actions up to this point. He felt hurt, confused, lost. The last year was a debacle for him and those around him. He felt guilty for being a burden. Spencer was convinced that prison made him a bad person.
*taps on mic* 🗣️Im a big fan of @pathologicalreid fics and read Little Lamb and you should read it too 🥺🥺 and it came in PERFECT timing after mggs North of Juárez and i had an excuse to draw cowboy-esque spencer 😩
I also haven't been very active here but I have been posting on Patreon twice a week and currently holding monthly requests for those interested :D
summary : Spencer had had a long day, and you decide to try and cheer him up
word count : 4.3k approx!
content warning : gender of reader is not specified, only that they come from Argentina, no translation needed I think!!! these two don't know they love each other. post criminal minds Spencer??? my writing of him might not be the most accurate, I tried to look up tbe stuff I hadn't reached in the series yet, I hope you like it:3
a/n : also JJ and Hotch mention along with their kids. Single parent club and its these three lovable sillies
You hummed under your breath as you passed the rag over the kitchen island.
The child you were taking care of was sat on a puffy seat near you. She was reading a book you bought her recently. A simple story in Spanish from your childhood. Your duty as a babysitter, an au pair, was to teach the child your native language. It was a sort of exchange, cultural appreciation, and everything of the sort.
Emmy looked up from the pages, her glasses hanging by the tip of her nose. "What time is it?"
You hummed with a smile, turning to the clock.
"It's… five to four."
The little girl's brows furrowed, "five to four?"
You grinned, "five minutes until it's four."
Her mouth fell into an O shape and she nodded. That sounded about right in her head.
The kitchen was finally clean up to your standards. You put your hands on your hips and turned to the oven.
"You said we had to wait for half an hour?"
Emmy piped up again, book in her lap.
"Yeah! It's so the insides get cooked too."
"Sounds about right," you smiled.
You let out a sigh of relief as you brought your arms over your head. There were a few pops as you stretched really hard.
"That's not normal," Emmy frowned.
You grinned and shot her playful a wink, "Unless you wanna be a massager, I don't think my back can be fixed."
Emmy took it into consideration. Then she beamed.
"My daddy knows about that stuff! He massages me sometimes."
The mention of her father made you pause. Hm. Hmmm.
Spencer Reid. Sat behind you. Digging his long fingers into your muscles. His breathing against the nape of your neck. His voice close to your ear.
Your lungs freezed for a moment. Your entire body did.
You covered your mouth with your hand, rubbing your chin. You squeezed your eyes shut as you shook your head. Focus.
You then turned to the little girl, your usual smile on your lips.
"Really? I didn't take your dad for that kind of person."
Emmy nodded, bright as the sun, "You know he knows a lot of stuff! He's very smart."
You chuckled lightly, strolling up to her to caress her head.
"That he is."
You sat down on the floor beside her so you could peer over her shoulder.
"In what part are you?"
"Uhm… Rodolfo…"
You looked at her, the smile in your eyes clear as day as you encouraged her.
"Rodolfo is… in the new part of the forest. And he's looking for friends… and… what are… mahndareenas?"
"Mandarinas are… they're not oranges, wait."
You turned to the floor as you thought. Then you snapped your fingers with a smile.
"Tangerines," you grinned as you looked back at Emmy.
Emmy made a sound of awe and nodded her head. She pointed at the page.
"I like the drawings."
"They're real cute, huh?"
"Yeah!"
You remembered with inmense clarity how you came to live in the Reid's household.
You were an English teacher in your country, having finished two university courses already. Thank goodness for public education. But you wanted to really challenge yourself. So, you decided to become an au pair.
Spencer Reid was your first ever boss. You were nervous on your first day. He tried his best to be accommodating, and he was! Really! It's just that not accepting a handshake made a bit of an impression on you. But you didn't hold that against him. Later on, you began to realize his nature. His usual breakfast meals. How he'd prefer to mumble the fruit of his knowledge. His preferred foods. The way his voice softened when it was just you three. His favorite air freshener. It was only part of the job as an au pair to know all these things down to a T!
And his lovely daughter stole your heart too. Spencer had done an incredible job in raising her. She was a creative little girl, whose mind was full of curiosity and wonder. Emmy had inherited her father's habit of reading. She read almost everything. So little, and she could already master (the second one was still a work in progress, but neither you or Spencer pushed her to the limit) two languages. English and Russian. And now that you were here, she was heavily interested in Spanish. She'd always say how happy you looked when you talked about your country, and one day she promises to visit and see everything you relate to her so passionately.
You had been so absorbed in talking to Emmy that you didn't notice the sound of the doorknob rattling. Nor the footsteps that approached the living room.
"I used to read this stuff when I was–"
A familiar click pulled you out of your trance.
Your eyes darted to the doorframe, and there he was. Hidden behind a little camera. Spencer's hands shook as he lowered the device.
"I'm sorry," he apologized through tight lips, "The angle just seemed right. And the lighting was favorable."
You blinked at him, and Emmy jolted up from her seat.
"Daddy, daddy!"
The doctor chuckled as the little girl practically ran into his legs. He bent his knees and picked her up.
"Hello, my little genius," he grinned as he rubbed his forehead against her hair. Emmy giggled and wrapped her arms around his shoulder.
He continued, "What are you reading?"
Emmy looked back at you, "El lobo Rodolfo!"
You nodded, "That she said correctly."
Spencer rubbed Emmy's back as she approached you slowly, but her eyes were glued to his daughter.
"At this rate, you'll know more languages than me."
The girl grinned and nodded excitedly.
You stood up from your spot and brought your hands behind your back. You couldn't look him in the eye. He couldn't either.
It had been a long morning for Spencer. Although his work is less stressful nowadays, it is impossible to find enough time for both himself and his daughter. But even then, he would sacrifice every second of personal time just to raise her daughter right. It's what he's always wanted. His daughter was above everything else. It will always be that way. But the creeping shift of something else threatening the rankings below her made him feel uneasy.
Spencer ran his fingers through Emmy's curls. His eyes then turned to yours.
"Thank you for today."
You shook your head and your hand.
"You always say that. It's my job, Doctor Reid."
He hummed, a faint tug on his lips.
"You know my name. Use it."
The man kept his lips pressed against his daughter's forehead as he began to walk into the kitchen. He always did that, and Emmy knew exactly why. She was happy to give her daddy the love and affection he needed.
You followed behind, fingers tracing the lines in your palm.
"Emmy found a cookie recipe online, and we decided it to try it."
"Cookies," Spencer murmured before looking down at Emmy.
"Chocolate chip!" She chirped happily.
Spencer nodded and tucked her against his chest again.
"Sounds good."
It took you less than ten minutes to set everything on the counter. A medium-sized plate with a whimsical pattern to put the cookies on, a purple container for Emmy to take to school, and another container for her to share tonight.
Spencer had arranged a little sleepover between Emmy and her cousin Michael. She was around the same age as him, him being a year and a half younger, but they got along just fine. Henry, Mike's older brother, always piped in to hang out. And Jack, her other cousin who was as old as Henry, also seemed to be joining them tonight. Although they were already grown little boys in their second year of high school, they still had a few years left to enjoy their youth. Free of responsibilities!
The man set his daughter down on the counter, a strained smile on his lips. You put on your mittens and bent over to take out the food.
"And what will you do with me gone all night, daddy?" Emmy asked through a pout.
"Well, I was thinking of reading a book. But I could also watch a movie."
You set the hot tray beside the plate. Ears catching onto every single word.
Spencer looked at you from the corner of his eyes.
"I… I probably should have told you about this sooner. You could have planned a night out with your friends."
You didn't have many friends here. But the sentiment was clear. You gave him a knowing smirk, raising a brow as you plated the cookies.
"And miss the fun of cooking you dinner? I don't think so."
Spencer offered a light laugh before looking back at Emmy.
"I guess I'm forcing them to stay."
Emmy giggled and wiggled her feet, "You can play card games… And chess! And board games too!"
Spencer nodded, swiping some of her curls from her forehead.
"Yes, that sounds like a good plan. Chess and card games it is," he smiled before pressing a kiss to her forehead.
He wrapped his arms around her softly and sighed. It was difficult to be him sometimes. Days like this one reminded him of his own inferiority. But to remember who he was fighting for gave him back the air to breathe.
Emmy wrapped her arms around his torso. You eyed the two as you put some of the cookies in the purple container. Something felt wrong.
Once Emmy's clothes were packed, and two containers worth of cookies were stuffed into her school bag, Spencer got ready to drive her to JJ's house. You've heard a lot about her from him. Well. As much as he'd tell you. Which was unusually more nowadays than what you usually got out of him.
When Emmy came to say goodbye, you kneeled down and pressed a kiss to her cheek.
"¡Chau, mi amorcito!"
She giggled and waved at you. Spencer's eyes met yours as Emmy walked outside. Cold, honey chocolate. Cold enough to give you the illusion of melting. Then he was gone.
For a second, you remained there on the floor.
It looked like Spencer was having a bad day.
Your eyes trailed to the bottom of the door.
Yeah, a bad day.
You slowly got up from the floor.
The following hour went smoothly for you. Productivity wise, at least. Your mind couldn't stop reeling with images of Spencer pausing before exiting the house. He wasn't having a good day, that much was certain, but how could you fix it?
If you would have asked yourself that same question three years ago, your approach would have been a little different. You were new to the Reid household. You were hesitant to reach out to Spencer in any way more friendly than what your relationship was already supposed to be.
But then you stayed. You stuck around for six months, then a year, then two. Until little Emilia was five years old. And you were proud to say that you had grown a bit on Spencer. He wasn't just your boss. He was a friend now. Chosen family. And you wanted to make him feel better.
It took you more than you would have liked to come up with a plan. A plan that would surely make him smile.
An hour passed since Spencer dropped Emmy off at JJ's house. The blond could see something was bothering him, and she sat him down for a coffee. He watched the kids play outside as JJ talked to him.
"Spencer. We have known each other for how long now?"
"Nineteen years, eight months, two weeks and–"
"Exactly. I know you. You know me. We have been there for each other through everything."
The sole golden band on her finger glistened under the sun.
"Which is exactly why I don't understand why you won't let us help."
Hotch, who was fixing himself a cup of coffee, walked back towards his friends.
"Tell us what's wrong," he said, not at all oblivious to the tension behind the man's eyes.
Spencer grimaced as he ran his fingers through his hair. It was getting long. He knew.
"Look, we can only meet twice a month. I don't want to spend the few hours we have together talking about my problems."
Both of them gave him the same look. The don't-fucking-kid-me look. As if Spencer hadn't been there for JJ after Will. As if he wasn't present in Hotch's decisions after leaving the BAU for good.
Spencer looked at them. Then a sharp, annoyed sigh escaped his lips.
"You're stressed," JJ guessed.
"Yes."
"Your babysitter decided to fly back to their country."
That made his brows furrow. He looked at Hotch as if he had grown a second head.
"What?"
He rubbed his forehead.
"No."
The two, hidden from Spencer's view due to him taking a sip of his cup, gave each other a look.
"The cases are worse compared to Quantico?"
"No. No, no. I feel lighter. I don't personally address the unsubs. I stay in the office and analyze pieces of information. It's like a sabbatical."
Hotch raised a brow, "You've been on a sabbatical for years now."
Spencer's face scrunched up. He looked defiantly at the table. He knew better than to fight them on this.
"I'm close to resigning."
That made the room silence.
Spencer, finally leaving the BAU?
JJ gave her old colleague a look. Hotch didn't know what to say.
JJ began with a soft murmur, "What…"
'What brings this on' was not a good question. They knew very well why he'd want to retire.
"… do you envision in your future?"
Good save.
Spencer's eyes softened as he looked at his friend. Then Hotch decided to sit down besides JJ, making it easier and worse to look them in the eye.
His own hands met each other under the table, and he smoothed his thumbs over his skin.
That was a good question. A very, very good question. Spencer looked through the window again, catching sight of Emmy running around with Mike and Jack.
He tried speaking, "I want to get my daughter into a good university."
Hotch continued, "We are asking about you, Reid."
Spencer gave him a pointed look. "Emmy is a part of me. How can I possibly think of a life without her in it?
"Spence."
JJ tried to offer her hand over the table. He took a deep breath in. Then out. He slowly reached for her hand back, the action grounding him.
He had to think. What did he really want?
"I want… A flexible schedule. That way I can pick up Emmy from school."
A fond smile grew equally on their lips.
"And what else?"
Spencer squeezed his knee as it bounced.
"Uhm… I'd like to travel. I want Emmy to explore the world."
He looked down at the table again.
"I– I want to cook. And read more."
How could something so mundane bring tears to his eyes?
"And the babysitter?"
Freeze.
Spencer freezed immediately. He could feel the beating drums of his heart. The air that he breathed into his lungs, then exhaled.
His brows furrowed as he looked down at his cup of coffee.
He stayed silent. For longer than necessary.
"… I'm not sure."
JJ planted her elbow on the table, her cheek leaning into her free hand. Hotch hummed, clearly unimpressed. But he decided not to push.
JJ was patient, "Would you like to move out?"
Spencer shook his head, "No. There is scientific evidence that proves that children moving houses at such a young age show a great decline in social skills, a regression in developmental milestones and heightened disturbances such as fussiness or clinginess."
He didn't smile as he said this. They were listening to him. That made him lower his gaze.
"I don't want Emmy to go through that stress."
JJ smiled, leaning further into her hand. She squeezed his hand as they continued.
"But at some point, would you like to?" She mumbled.
Spencer hummed. He rubbed JJ's knuckles anxiously as he looked at Hotch.
"In this moment, I… I like my house. I feel comfortable. And I can't say how I will react if I were to change it."
He looked down at the table again.
"You're doing great," Hotch said.
Spencer did a double take on him. His brows were furrowed as his mouth fell slightly agape.
"You're a great father, Reid," he continued.
JJ looked at Hotch, then back at Spencer, who looked dumbfounded for once in his life.
"You're doing a wonderful job."
The praise made him stutter. He looked around instinctively. Maybe they were talking to someone else and he wasn't aware. Or perhaps he wasn't in the room at all and this was just a sunny dream between the nightmares.
He pointed at himself.
"Me?"
JJ grinned and nodded, "Yes, you!"
Spencer looked back through the window. Emmy was laughing and enjoying life. As he promised himself she would be.
It took him a couple of empty seconds to come with the conclusion. He looked up at his friends and nodded.
"I'm resigning from the FBI."
You were in the middle of preparing the couch when you heard the door open and close. You were face to face with Doctor Spencer Reid. Your new target.
You stepped aside, finger pointing at the couch.
"Sit, please."
Spencer paused by the door. He set his messenger bag by the door, under the coats, before slowly inching towards you.
"Are… are you okay?"
"Of course I'm okay. Just sit!"
You didn’t look like you were lying, so there seemed nothing to worry about. He approached you like an animal ready to pounce on him and eat his flesh.
He sat down on the cushion closest to him, eyes glued to yours for the evening.
"You're stressed," you said decidedly.
"Yes," he replied, clearly struck.
"I'll try to fix it for you."
You grabbed the remote from the coffee table and switched on the movie you chose for tonight. It wasn't something Spencer watched at all. Howl's Moving Castle. The adaptation by Studio Gibhli. You mentioned the book once or twice to Spencer, saying that you might reread it once you were out of your school responsibilities. He remembered that. It would be difficult to remember that.
His eyes stayed with you as you took a seat beside him.
You looked at him firmly.
"Do you… do you wanna talk about it?"
Spencer couldn't tear his eyes off of you. He was having an out of body experience. He shook his head.
"No. No, it's…"
A hand slipped to the nape of his neck.
"I… I'm thinking about quitting the FBI."
That made your eyes widen. You nodded, positive of anything he wanted.
"Quitting…"
Your eyes drifted down to your rings. Memories of your life spent in this state. In this country. With this family.
"I think… it would make Emmy's day to know that… you'd be around more."
Spencer had a very strict schedule. He never knew when he'd work during the night, or early during the day, or whole days on end. It would definitely make his mental health a lot better if he quit.
The man smiled at your answer, nodding to himself too.
"That's what I was thinking."
The movie was still on pause as you two talked.
"I'm doing this for her. And… and for me too."
He squeezed his hands together.
"And… Well…"
You tilted your head to the side. You slowly began to catch on to the implication. If Spencer found more time in his hands to take care of Emmy, then your work wasn't…
Your brows knitted together sadly.
Spencer caught that. His hand reached for yours.
"No, I'm not firing you. And besides, your contract demands you to stay for another four months."
He shook his head. Firm on his decision.
"You are a vital part of Emmy's life. You are a vital part of… my life."
His hand let go of yours, as if the sudden realization of his actions burnt his skin.
"We wouldn't want to see you go. If… It's…"
Doctor Spencer Reid felt like he was twenty again. Words in a jumble. Trying so, so desperately to get his point across to other people. Shy. So shy.
"I-it's up to you. What you choose to do. I…"
He gulped quietly. You looked at him through wide eyes. You stayed in that awkward position for two seconds before you answered.
"Of course I'll stay."
A warm smile grew on your lips. The Reid's were so charming.
"You are my favorite family."
Despite his inhibition for athletics, he could feel his heart doing a somersault. It felt good to be recognized like this. Much better than being recognized over his intellect, surprisingly.
You fell into a comfortable silence as you got cozy on the couch. Spencer tried to keep his restlessness at bay. But luckily, you decided to talk to him.
"I'll make dinner tonight. I never tried making Indian cuisine before, but…"
Something changed inside of Spencer. A breath escaped the small space between his lips. Indian cuisine. He loved Indian cuisine. He couldn't help but laugh nervously.
"Ha. Uh… yes. Yes, I… it's… I can…"
You smiled at him so gently. How you would look at Emmy whenever she's stuck on a line from one of your books.
"I can help you. If you want."
You nodded at that, "Having an expert in the kitchen would help me."
The two of you barely focused on the movie. You had a lot of comments to pass around. You enjoyed it yourself. Spencer seemed to relax more as he talked.
"I've made my own research on this movie. And then I had to know more about the book. The cover of your adaptation seemed like something Emmy would love. I would like to introduce it to her when she's a little older."
You listened to him intently, a soft shape of we-are-not-talking-about-that-right-now in your eyes.
"I'm interested in introducing ideas such as kindness, courage and the importance of looking beyond appearances to her. It would be a good idea to start with this movie. I enjoy the aesthetic, and the songs so far are out of this world."
You nodded, happy to talk about your interests.
"It certainly helped me a lot when I was younger. I think media that involves anti-war sentiments really shape a curious, soft-hearted person. And Sophie is a great example of a strong female lead. I love her!"
Spencer had to manually exhale and inhale. He nodded.
"I want Emmy to be surrounded by strong female protagonists. I want her to see herself in them."
You smiled as you looked at him. Everything was alright in the world.
"I'll make a list of books and movies she can read and watch, then."
Spencer nodded, "I'll hold you to it."
You grinned and lifted your hand, "Pinky promise."
He seemed surprised by this. Something so… childish coming from you. But not childish. More… hm. Soft? Soft and… gentle. Pure.
He hooked his pinky with yours.
"Pinky promise."
Preparing dinner went by smoothly. Well, as smoothly as one could go with a pair of hands guiding your each and every move. You've never seen Spencer this unconditionally happy.
"And then you dip the chicken in the bowl."
"I had no idea we had all these ingredients at home."
Spencer grinned as she watched you cover the chicken in the marinade you made.
"We actually don't have the spice that I like, but that's okay. We have other salts and also red chili powder, so we should be okay."
You smirked at the mention of chili.
"You have an appetite for spiciness."
"Clearly."
You put your heart and soul into marinating this damn chicken. Sure, the marinate was tasty. But still! You couldn't work with someone looking over your shoulder like a hawk.
Spencer smiled, "That's good. Now we let it sit for approximately twenty to… half an hour."
You grabbed the clear foil and began to wrap the bowl securely. Just for the chicken not to get messed up.
You sighed as you put your hands under the sink.
"You'll have to cook for me one day, Spencer. And you'll cook me my favorite meal."
The man laughed as he stood beside you, hands on the counter as he looked at your hands.
"And what's your favorite meal?"
Your eyes softened at the question.
"No, no. We can't make it here."
And suddenly you really missed your home. Your face fell as you thought about it.
Spencer caught on quite quickly. He tried to find your eyes, even if they were full of held-back sorrow.
"You know… you could always teach me more about your culture."
Your head whipped to him immediately. He smiled.
"Yeah," he murmured faintly, "The cultural exchange also applies to me, right? I'd like to learn more about your country."
Even if he had a clear idea of how your country was like. The length and width, the strategic energy sources, its stance on production and import of raw materials. But he wanted to hear it from you.
You chuckled softly, drying your hands with a cloth you kept intact for moments like these.
"We can start with the basics later."
You looked up at him, and suddenly the light in the room made two white diamonds appear in your eyes. Right.
He nodded. Yes. He could do that.
"I want to be beside you through this work stuff. I'll try to guide you if I can. If there's anything I know, is how to make a good CV."
Spencer laughed, his gaze trailing to the sink again.
"That'll be helpful. Thank you, really."
He cracked his knuckles absent-mindedly.
"What would I do without you, huh?"
You let out a small hum. Utterly helpless against his wit. Surrendered to the effect he had on you. The Reid effect.
"Mm, yeah. What would you do without me?"
a/n : I might make this into a series. I like the slow burm
ok but imagine dating post-prison reid and wiping off your lipstick that got on his stubble after he kissed you 👀👀👀😍🥰and he just cant stop staring at you the entire time while you do it… !
…..not even six hours later i got an offer of a well paying full time long-term job with free room and board in queens in nyc, allowing me independence and a way to escape an abusive situation and an unhealthy environment
likes charge reblogs cast, folks, this is the good luck post
the last time I reblogged this post right before I got a great job, in a permanent work-from-home position, with benefits, retirement, and a salary literally 3x what I was making before, doing something I really like.
😭😭😭😭 he would be so happy explaining everything because he finally has someone who’s interested in everything he has to say and pay attention and engage even if it’s with just “whys” im gonna go cry
Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader
Summary: Pulling over on the side of the road to pee has never been so satisfying... (18+/MINORS DNI)
Content: Piss drinking, munch!Spencer, fingering, heavy petting
Word Count: 1.5k EXACTLY according to Google Docs. It was fate.
MASTERLIST
NOTE: ...sorry not sorry <3 barely proofread. I wrote most of this on my lunch break today fjlfksdjflk
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No woman likes to be on the side of the road at one in the morning, but when nature calls, you do what you must.
Still, it helps that Spencer is with you, waiting in the car.
Well… He should be waiting in the car, but for some reason he’s hopped out of the passenger seat and followed you into the dark, just behind a large patch of brush a few feet away from the car and out of sight.
“You gotta go, too?” you ask through a laugh, not quite ready to get to work without clearing it with him first.
“Uh, no, not really… But I don’t like the thought of you being alone out here.”
You can believe that, but there’s something odd in his voice that you can’t seem to place, so you cross your arms and will yourself to hold on a moment longer. “Well, I’m gonna pee. Like, right now. So look away or don’t.”
“Actually… I was kind of hoping… Um…”
Something warm flutters in your chest at the potential direction this is going, but he keeps dancing around it. You’re not even sure if that’s where his mind has gone, but now that the thought is in your head, the full press of your bladder is blending into a sharp pleasure that makes it harder to keep holding it.
“I really gotta go, Spence, so spit it out already.”
Your fingers are undoing the button of your pants as soon as the words leave your mouth, figuring he’ll either say what he’s going to say or look away and give you privacy at the quick course of action. It’s not like you hadn’t warned him you were going, after all.
Maybe it was cruel to force him to make a decision so soon, but again, when nature calls, you do what you must.
“I want to taste you,” he blurts out, his eyes widening at the confession. Then, he quickly adds, “I mean I totally understand if you think that’s weird and I’m sorry. But I don’t know, I guess I’d just been thinking about it for a while and right now seemed like the perfect opportunity to ask, but like I said, I—“
You’ve already slid your pants and underwear down in one swift movement, stepping out of them to take a step towards him as he rambled, but now you cut him off, feeling warm and tingly all over with anticipation.
“Get on your knees.”
That stops Spencer in his tracks, a deer frozen in headlights… Like he can’t believe that you’d agreed and even seemed eager to go along with his unusual request.
“Wait really?”
“Yes, Spencer, but I really have to go, so get on your knees if that’s what you really want.”
Eyes still wide, he does just that. He falls to the ground with a soft thud, the grass and dirt beneath him giving way to his urgency.
You stride over to him in just a few steps, ready to ask him if he’s really sure about this, but the words die on the back of your tongue the second you reach him; Spencer’s hands come out to gently grip your thighs and bring you flush to his mouth. The immediate contact sends a jolt of excitement through your body, and before you can process the relief, you start to release into him.
It only takes about a second to fully comprehend the situation at hand, your brain questioning your decision while your body has a mind of its own. Still, you clench and hold back, whimpering when he groans into you, his tongue lapping up every bit of you that he can.
Spencer’s mouth slows, his lips gently closing around your clit with a soft smack before whining into you. “Please…”
He goes in for a slow, wet kiss to your cunt, your eyes rolling to the back of your head. “More…”
Another sinful kiss, and then… “I need more…”
Any reservations have gone completely out the window, hearing and feeling him beg for you like this… You don’t dare deny your sweet boy what he so desperately needs, and so through a long groan of relief, and determination to please, you grind your hips down softly into his mouth, crying out into the open air as he opens wide for you.
You take your time, relishing in the gentle pulse of pleasure that cuts through the gradual reprieve to your bladder. It hits you in waves that build stronger and stronger each time Spencer’s nose bumps your clit, and it takes everything you have not to hold him there while you ride his face to completion.
There will be time for that later, but now, your focus is on letting him get his fill. You go slow, nearly buckling every time he closes his mouth around you to swallow before opening up again. His tongue is magical, as it always has been, working you in new ways that have you in shambles.
And then, he takes a messier, more indulgent approach to his worshipping you, relying less on the task of swallowing his sustenance and taking you by surprise.
Now he’s being downright animalistic, holding onto your thighs like he’ll die if he lets go. His tongue is relentless over your clit, letting the last few gushes of your golden nectar cascade down his chin, and the sensation is breathtaking. Pretty soon you’re chasing after an orgasm, relieved by an empty bladder but restless for a different, more familiar type of satisfaction.
Your hips have a mind of their own as you reach down to grab his hair for balance, crying out at how sensitive you are over each long caress of his tongue. He devours you like he’s starved, groaning into you and taking no care to be polite about it.
Finally he brings a hand up and slips two fingers into your heat, fingering you steadily as his lips close around your clit and suck.
You come hard and fast, almost positive that you’re ripping out his hair with how tightly your fingers are curling through the strands. Still he doesn’t slow, and it drags on forever, supernovas dancing behind your eyelids as you try not to scream too loud into the night.
Even as you start to stumble, Spencer removes his fingers from you and grips your thighs again, keeping you steady and he licks and licks and licks.
“Baby, you need to stop,” you gasp at last, once you’ve realized that there’s not much more you can take, pulling yourself away and hearing him whine in protest.
“Sorry…” he pants. “I didn’t mean to get carried away…”
He kisses the inside of your thigh, then drags his tongue along a drop of wetness that hadn’t fallen completely yet, up and up and up until he’s almost to your cunt again. “But I can’t help it… You taste like heaven.”
Your body has a visceral reaction to his words, clenching around nothing as you pull him up to stand.
Without a second thought, you grab the sides of his face and kiss him with a hunger that only barely rivals his. He groans into your mouth, the sound going down deliciously in contrast to the heady taste of your juices on his tongue.
He’s hard against you, jolting his hips forward in pursuit of friction, and once again you find it hard to deny him.
Pulling away from the kiss, you bring a hand down to palm the front of his pants and take a second to look him over.
His hair is unkempt and his eyes just as wild, chin resting perfectly in your other hand… Pouty glistening lips, taking a moment to recover yet yearning to get back to work…
You sigh and squeeze the bulge in his pants, working him to the best of your ability as the soft features of his neck finally catch your eye; He’s glistening everywhere, thoroughly covered in you…
Truth be told, you don’t think you’ve ever loved him more than right now.
“My beautiful boy,” you muse, taking him by the chin and leaning in.
The moment your tongue makes contact with his neck, he’s coming, whimpering incoherent sounds that could be mistaken for your name but are beautiful all the same.
You clean him up as sensually as you can, not quite sure if you really enjoy what you’re tasting. But the way Spencer holds onto you and unravels under your presence makes the experience all the more enjoyable.
If anything, it’s strong worthwhile evidence of the pure emboldened devotion he has for you, a truth that has you craving more adventure the longer it sits with you, coating your lips and laying heavy on your tongue.
Unfortunately, you start to believe maybe he’s awakened something within you just now.
And by the shit-eating grin on Spencer’s face when you’ve finally parted, you think he might have been able to tell.
