💕💕

This is so sweet

vanilla and strawberries

synopsis: you switched your perfume, and suddenly Oscar has the sniffles.

pairing: oscar piastri x reader

not proof read! this one’s like mega short

Your day followed its usual standard routine. You showed up to the track later than he did. Found him sitting in the back of the garage, cooling down, getting his head level before qualifying.

He hugged you briefly, too conscious of the cameras pointed in your direction. But he hovered near, his face inches from your neck. And then a sniff reached your ears. When he noticed your amused and questioning look, he pulled away, resuming a normal posture beside you. “Are you coming down with a cold?” You asked.

“No.” He dismissed quickly.

You were willing to brush it off until it happened again. After qualifying, when he hugged you again, he lingered longer. And you swore you heard another sniff.

And again, when he took your hand on the way back to the hotel and kissed your palm. Your hand lingered around his mouth far longer than typical.

And again, when he kissed you later that night. He paid extra attention to your neck.

That’s when he finally spoke up. “Did you change your perfume or lotion or something?” He asked, nose nudging against your neck. Another sniff, this one more pronounced.

You nodded, fingers threading through his hair. “Yeah, why?” Your question was pushed to the back of his mind, as it was too busy being plagued by the smell of vanilla and strawberries. “Do you not like it?”

He nodded quickly. “God, no. I love it.” He sucked on your neck, drawing a gasp out of you. “You smell like a dessert.” Breath fanning over your skin, tongue laying flat on the spot he’d just sucked a hickey onto. “So sweet.”

You hummed and pulled away. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Words can not describe how much I love this 💕

kisses will make it better

summary - you think you’ve made aaron upset so decide not to tell him when you’ve been in a car accident

pairing - aaron hotchner x gf!reader

word count - 3k

Today was shit.

Like really terrible.

It was one of those days where nothing had gone right and you felt like the universe was caving in on you. From missing a meeting due to traffic to getting harassed by your boss again, there was nothing that had technically gone right.

Which is why you were calling Aaron on your drive home, because you knew he would make it better.

It was dangerous to rely on someone to make you feel better, but he was your person and there was no one you would rather speak to than him.

“Hotchner.”

You smiled as he always answered the phone the same way.

He said that people wasted time by looking at the caller ID rather than just answering the phone, so you were used to him never answering the phone any other way.

“Hi love.”

“Y/N?” He questioned and you had to chuckle.

“Who else would be calling you ‘love’?” You laughed.

“Do you know what time it is?”

“Um,” You looked at the clock on your car dashboard, “Nearly 11PM.”

“Yeah, it is. Look, you know we’ve got a really busy case right now?” He sounded pissed off and it made your heart drop.

“Yeah, I just thought…” You gulped to swallow back the oncoming threat of tears.

You didn’t want to cry over something so trivial as making your boyfriend upset, but when you had had a day as bad as yours anything was a possible trigger. Especially when Aaron was supposed to be the person to listen and comfort you.

“So I need to sleep and I need this phone line to be open for the police detectives.”

You could hear what he wasn’t saying; ‘Don’t call me’.

“Okay.”

“Alright, bye.” And he hung up.

It felt kind of pathetic to cry, but the tears kept falling.

You sniffled as you let out a few shaky breaths. Your eyes tried concentrating on the roads but your tears were sort of blinding your sight.

Your bad day had just gotten even worse.

The one person you knew would have cheered you up had to go and let you down. It wasn’t really his fault. He did have a really big case at the moment that was really stressful, so any sleep he could get was important, but it would’ve been nice to just speak to him for a few minutes.

You pulled down the sleeve of your jumper over your hand so you could wipe away the tears from your eyes.

You were thankful to be stopped at a red light.

Leaning over into your glove compartment you picked out a packet of tissues and took one out so you could blow your nose. Crying always led to a runny nose.

Maybe you’d done something really terrible and that was why the world was taking it out on you. But what had you done?

Except for this morning, you were always on time for work. You put up with endless sexist and gross comments from your boss. You worked really long nights and early mornings just to get the work done. Working as an assistant for a CEO wasn’t as glamorous as it sounded, but it paid the bills.

So why did you deserve to have such a shit day?

That’s what you were hoping Aaron could have answered.

Now you had only gone and upset him too.

The light turned green and you gripped onto the tissue as you took a hold of the steering wheel to turn left.

There were bright lights.

A car horn sounded.

Your feet slammed hard on the breaks.

There was an almighty crash.

And then it all went black.

<.><.><.>

“Miss. Miss, can you hear me?”

Your head felt so heavy and your chest felt tight.

Your eyes were slow to open, but when they finally did they felt so heavy - as if they were being weighed down.

Then you noticed the blue and red flashing lights against the pitch black of night and the paramedic that was leaning into your car to talk to you.

She had a stethoscope pressed against your chest and kept calling out to you for a response.

Slowly it was all coming back to you.

“Miss, answer if you can hear me.”

You nodded your head slowly.

“Okay good.” She said, “You were in a car accident. Do you remember what happened?”

Instead of responding you let the tears fall. Now you were coming back around and things were coming into focus you started to feel how much pain you were in. The seat belt must have stopped you from flying through the front window, but it had definitely bruised your entire chest and rib area in the process. That’s why it was probably painful to breathe.

The lady ducked back out of the car then.

“She’s pretty shaken.”

“We need to get her to a hospital. She could have internal bleeding.”

“Okay let’s cut her out and slowly transport her to an ambulance.”

“Have you asked who we should call?”

Their voices were all a blur as your eyes grew heavier again. The tears in your eyes were making your focus blurry again. It hurt to even cry.

Aaron was going to be so mad.

He was on such a busy case and the last thing he needed was to hear his girlfriend had been in a car accident - a bad one at that. You promised yourself then that you would tell the emergency response people that you didn’t have any emergency contacts. You didn’t need Aaron coming down here.

Not that you didn’t want him, because God you did, but more that you didn’t want to add any extra stress for him.

He had a hard enough job as it was without looking after you too.

He needed his rest, so you would do this alone.

<.><.><.>

Garcia was hurried as she approached Hotch’s office.

“Baby girl, what’s wrong?” Morgan asked from his desk as he watched his friend rush past.

“It’s Y/N.” She said and that’s when Morgan noticed the tears in her eyes.

Morgan shot up from his desk, as did Emily and Reid who had overheard the conversation. They didn’t ask questions, but did follow Garcia to Hotch’s office to listen in. It was clearly serious if Garcia was upset.

Garcia didn’t even knock before entering.

Hotch looked up from his desk, clearly unimpressed with the lack of knocking until he saw the looks on his team’s faces - especially Garcia’s.

“What is it, Garcia?” Hotch asked, clicking the lid on his pen.

“Sir, you know how you asked me to set up that system where if any immediate family relatives of ours were admitted to hospital then they’d flag on my system so we’d know?” She asked.

Hotch stood up immediately.

“Is Jack okay?” His heart sank.

“Yes, Sir, he is.” Garcia looked distressed still, “But Y/N was in a major car accident last night. Drunk driver hit her side of the car. Caused her car to be sent spinning across the road where it was then hit at the rear by a lorry.”

Hotch went pale. He felt like his heart had stopped beating.

“When?” Hotch picked up his phone.

No new messages.

Why had no one contacted him about this?

He was your emergency contact. He should have been notified about this.

“Accident happened last night at about 11:15. I only got the notification when I came in this morning, Sir.”

“She’s been in the hospital since 11:15 last night?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Where is she now?”

“I had a look and… seems like she’s been in surgery for most of the night.”

Hotch had heard enough. He was ready to go now.

“Prentiss and Morgan. Go to the police station and find out what you can about the accident. I want that drunk driver ID’d.” Hotch ordered and they both left the room immediately.

“Call us if anything changes, Hotch.” Morgan added and Hotch nodded.

Reid…” Hotch said.

“I’m coming to the hospital with you.” Reid said for his boss.

“I need you here to work the case with Dave.”

“Hotch, this will probably be the only time I say this… but no. I’m coming with you and no doubt Rossi will too. Y/N is our friend too.” Reid argued back and Hotch didn’t have to say anything else for everyone to know that he was grateful for it.

Hotch needed the support and he knew you would need it to.

Screw this case.

Family was more important.

“Garcia…”

“I have my computers scanning security footage as we speak, Sir.”

“Good.”

“Go get our girl, Sir.” Garcia said and Hotch wasted no more time before exiting his office.

<.><.><.>

“You can’t blame yourself, Aaron.” Dave said as he drove the car to the hospital.

Aaron had wanted to drive but Dave had disagreed. It would’ve been dangerous for him to drive at a time like this.

“I spoke to her 15 minutes before the accident, Dave.” Aaron said, his composure slowly breaking.

Dave didn’t add anything to the conversation because he knew this was Aaron’s way of opening up as to why he felt so guilty.

“I told her not to call because my phone needed to be open for the police detectives to call me.”

“You were sleep deprived Aaron.” Dave argued.

“That’s not an excuse.”

“Maybe not, but it was the truth.”

Aaron kept his gaze on the road in front of them.

This car journey had felt like the longest twenty minutes of his life. Then he thought about how long you must have been alone in your crumpled car until someone arrived - how long that must have felt. How scary that must have been.

“I can’t lose her too.” Aaron said.

“You won’t. She’s got a strength in her that not everyone does.”

Aaron wanted to smile at that because he knew it was true, but it was hard to smile when he didn’t have a clue what state he was about to find you in.

<.><.><.>

Aaron stormed into the ER.

He did a quick sweep of the room and walked to the front desk. His hands gripped the front desk like it was the only thing keeping him standing up.

“Y/N L/N.”

“I’m sorry, Sir?” The nurse questioned.

“I’m here to see Y/N L/N. She was brought in late last night from a car accident.” Hotch explained.

“Let me see.” The nurse typed away on her computer.

Rossi and Reid came up behind Aaron as they also waited to hear what the nurse had to say.

Aaron’s team was like a family to him, which meant they were also a family to you. The team had taken a liking to you ever since they had seen how much you had positively impacted Aaron’s life. They had never seen him smile so much as when he was around you. You brought out the best in him and the thought of losing you meant losing their boss too.

“Are you Aaron Hotchner, Sir?” The nurse questioned.

“Yes.”

The nurse smiled sympathetically, “Miss L/N specifically told the doctors last night that we weren’t to contact you.”

“W-what?” Aaron furrowed his brows in confusion. “I’m her emergency contact.”

“We’re aware, Mr Hotchner.”

“S-so what?” Aaron tried to calm himself down because he knew it wasn’t the nurses fault, “That’s it?...”

“Miss L/N told us not to contact you, Mr Hotchner, so we didn’t. However, now you are here I don’t see any reason to hold you back any further. Just sign this ‘sign in’ sheet, please.”

“Thank you.” Aaron said honestly, feeling both a wave of relief and anxiety.

Why had you told them not to call him?

Well, he knew why…

It was starting to feel like this was his fault. Doubts creeping into his mind as to whether he was the right person for you. It felt like no matter what he did, no matter how happy he became, he would always be tested in some way.

<.><.><.>

Reid and Rossi had gone to buy you flowers, leaving Aaron in the room alone with you.

It had been a shock to see you at first.

He hadn’t really prepared himself for how you might look, but he definitely hadn’t expected this.

You were bandaged like a mummy. Your head had a thick bandage wrapped around. Your hands were littered with plasters and gauze from where tiny bits of shattered glass had cut into your skin. He couldn’t see your chest but he had no doubts that the entire area would be black and bruised.

It made Aaron feel sick seeing you like this.

<.><.><.>

When you finally came around you felt lighter than you had before.

There was no seat belt cutting into your skin and you could breathe a little easier too. The bed you were laid in was really comfortable and someone had clearly dimmed the lights in preparation for you waking up.

Your eyes opened to find yourself in a hospital room.

The small window to the right told you it was a new day because it had been nighttime the last time you had seen the sky. Whether it was the next day or a couple of days was difficult to guess.

You looked down from the window to the small table.

There were six bunches of flowers of all different varieties. All of them had cards underneath them and you were eager to know who they were from.

The one that had a mathematical joke on had to be from Reid. The one that was covered in pink glitter was definitely from Garcia. The one that was clearly handmade had to be the work of Jack Hotchner. That one made you smile.

Your eyes went to the other side of the room where there was a chair facing your bed.

It was empty.

You knew who had been there, though, thanks to the blazer and red tie draped over the back of it.

Just as you started thinking about Aaron, you could hear your two favourite boys approaching.

“But I want to give the giraffe to her now, dad.”

“Ssh, ssh. We have to be quiet now bud, okay? Y/Ns sleeping.”

“But she’s been sleeping all day.”

“That’s because she’s poorly.”

“Oh, okay.”

Aaron and Jack entered the room a moment later, leaving the door open.

“Y/N!” Jack screamed in excitement when he saw that you were awake. He shuffled himself out of his dad’s hold until he was on the floor and running over to your bedside.

Aaron was ready to tell Jack off until he saw that you were in fact awake.

“Jack, careful.” Aaron said when his son started climbing on the bed.

“He’s okay.” You assured them both.

“Dad said you’re poorly.” Jack said.

“I guess I am.” You smiled at him.

“Does this hurt?” He pointed to the bandage on your forehead.

“A little.”

“Dad can kiss it better.” Jack explained like he was the certified doctor working in this hospital. It made you and Aaron laugh, which was probably the best form of medicine anyways. “Won’t you dad?”

Instead of giving a yes or a no response, Aaron came over to you and placed a kiss on top of the bandage. You couldn’t feel his lips, but his presence was enough to make you a little bit emotional.

He smelt like home and his closeness was so warm that you felt comforted.

Aaron kept his face close to yours as pulled away. He looked at you and noticed your teary eyes. His thumb reached your cheek to softly pad over the skin there - no doubt to check that you were really here and okay.

“Hey Jack, why don’t we go and get a chocolate bar for Y/N, hmm?” You heard Rossi’s voice behind Aaron.

Neither you or Aaron made a move from each other to check. Rossi must have taken Jack from the room because it went so quiet then.

Aaron kept his gaze on your eyes and you could see the sadness lost within them.

You hated to see him so sad. It was your weakness.

“I’m…”

“If you say you’re sorry I’m going to be really upset.” Aaron said quickly to cut you off.

You nodded, crying a bit more now.

“Thank you for coming.” You said instead.

“Don’t need to thank me, sweetheart. I’ll always be here.” Aaron moved to perch on the bed beside you, careful not to bump into any sore part of you.

“How did you even know?”

“Garcia.”

“Of course” You smiled. Aaron smiled because you smiled.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry for being an asshole last night.”

“Aaron, love, I can see that you’re beating yourself up over this but it wasn’t your fault. Yes, you were kind of an asshole. I did need you last night, but you definitely didn’t cause this and I know you know that.”

“You’re too lovely.” He responded.

“I just won’t have you blame yourself for something you had no control over.”

Aaron nodded, “I’ll never not answer the phone again.”

“Okay.”

“But you have to promise to never block me as an emergency contact again. You hear me?” He said sternly.

“I do. It was kind of stupid of me.” You rolled your eyes thinking back now.

“Yeah it was.” Aaron gave you a small smirk, glad to hear you were okay enough to make a joke or two.

“I just didn’t want you to worry.”

“Honey. I’m going to worry whether or not you are actually okay.”

“When I told the nurse to not call you she asked whether you were a crazy ex of mine.” You chuckled.

“You’re an absolute menace.”

“A menace that’s going to need lots of kisses to nurse me back to health.”

“Oh yeah?”

“That’s what Dr Jack said.” You shrugged.

“I better get started then.”

Squish-y - LN

Request from @sunshineeyessss - please something with squish! I miss her, if it can be something angst like her getting really hurt or something in those lines

Word count: 1.1k

Clingy/physical touch-love language!reader

Author's note: I am not making a Squish series, this is a one time part 2. Please don't request more Squish after this guys.

Lando and y/n are rarely apart at this point in their relationship. But y/n had a bachelorette party to attend and to say she was having a good time would be an understatement.

Lando did get constant text, videos and even a couple short-lived phone calls from the night.

But the joy and excitement came to a pretty abrupt end when he got a phone call from another drunk attendee of the party and finding out that his girlfriend fell down not one but two flights of stairs.

Which is how he ended up rushing to the hospital.

"Squ-Y/n y/l/n?" Lando calls having to stop himself from using her nickname.

"It was mentioned you'd ask for Squish. We've been told." The nurse comments not seeming impressed by the nickname but he can't tell if she actively dislikes him or not. "She's room 2F. That way."

Lando moves to follow the directions and finds the young woman looking pretty beat up. Her exposed knees looking pretty beaten up. But the main concern is her cast bound arm in a sling.

She broke her forearm, her elbow and her collarbone all on the right side.

"Squish." Lando sighs placing the flowers he'd made sure to grab on the way there since he's not going to be caught slacking but in reality he knows his still very much drunk girlfriend is looking very emotional as her good but still bruised arm raises making it obvious she very much wants a hug. "Aww. My Squish."

"I was having such a good time then I need to the toilet and I fell." Y/n hiccups. "What stupid club has stairs down to the toilets anyway?"

"A very stupid one." Lando reaffirms as a nurse that thankfully looks a little happier to be there and happier to see him enters.

"Hi, you must be Lando. Y/n told us all about you while we got the cast on. We did need someone sober to discharge her so we knew she was going home safely. So once you sign and sort out all the paperwork, you're free to get her home. Just keep an eye on her. She did hit her head, not too hard but we always want to be cautious with that stuff."

"Yeah, I got her. Thank you." Lando nods with a smile as she hands him the clipboard with all the forms.

"Lando." Y/n mumbles making him move towards her and absently sit on her better side, not that she necessarily has a good side, just so she can touch him somehow. "I love you."

"I love you too, squish. I might need your help for some of these forms...I think I know most of it, but I just want to double check that I'm not putting anything in wrong." Lando mumbles focusing on the paperwork before he smiles at her and leans over for a kiss at the face she's just playing with the hem of his top.

"Ok."

-

"Alright, Squish. I am all yours for however long you want me." Lando sighs once he's got her set up in bed.

And immediately y/n just wants to cuddle. The woman isn't taking into account how awkward a cuddle is going to be and Lando has to figure out the best means of getting them into a position that won't disturb her collarbone which they actually have to go back to the hospital for in a week or so to check that it's not healing incorrectly, otherwise there might be a need for surgery since collarbones can be a little difficult to heal.

Eventually they settle on her lying with her back to his chest as she sits between his legs. Just as the safest position to make sure he's not unsettling any broken bones or making her uncomfortable but still giving her the comfort she wants from him.

"Squish, are you awake?" Lando asks noticing her body pressing down more heavily on him with him realising she's probably asleep.

She’s still on some pretty heavy pain medication since her whole body is pretty battered even if it was her arm and shoulder that took the brunt of her fall. So it’s not surprise she’s passed out. But the issue is, Lando now has to pee.

By some miracle he manoeuvres himself out from behind her and gets to the toilet but there's no surprise when he's halfway through his pee, y/n appears shuffling with a pout.

"I had to pee, squish. You were pressing on my bladder." Lando laughs as she comes up behind him him and hug him with her good arm as he smiles at her, resisting the usual urge to lean back on hr since he knows her other broken limb is very much pressed gently against him. "How are you feeling?"

"Achy."

He knew that would be that answer but he doesn't like it anymore now he's actually hearing it.

"We'll sleep and cuddle then you get you something to eat." Lando states after tucking himself back away and flushing the toilet before he moves to wash his hands while y/n follows like a little puppy. "Ok, squish. Back to bed for you."

-

Walking into the paddock for the next race. Y/n is very much latched onto Lando and his concern for her not gaining more injury means he's holding her just as tightly.

"There's Lando in the garage, and no surprise, he is walking in with Squish. I was talking to Lando early in the week, he was saying that she actually fell down two flights of stairs while at a bachelorette party. She must've landed entirely on her arm. She broke her arm, he elbow and her collarbone. I just hope all concern for her isn't distracting him from the race this weekend. I doubt it. Usually having her there with him seems to actually bring out the best of him." Martin states as the camera remains on the McLaren garage and they see Lando continue to talk to y/n as he also speaks to Jon.

Lando proves that y/n definitely isn't a distraction even with how injured she is because his weekend is mega and while y/n is thankfully not feeling the pain she'd been feeling initially and actually the gifts from fans and Lando making sure to spare any attention to her that he can.

"I'm really starting to hate this." Y/n comments while Lando gets ready for bed, having already helped her. "I can't cuddle you properly."

"Hey...come on now just think, squish, it means when you can cuddle me properly and you'll have a new appreciation for it." Lando smiles before he climbs into bed and pecks her lips. "I love you, squish."

"I love you too. I just hate 4-6 weeks healing time."

I love this so much, It's so cute. 🤍

Cupid’s Chokehold/Breakfast in America by Gym Class Heroes like Spencer just boasting his girlfriend to everyone

A/n: I adore this song, but it's stuck in my head now

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Y/n

Genre: complete fluff

WC: 2.5k

CW: nothing (??)

There weren't a lot of things Spencer Reid bragged about. He had a lot of accomplishments to brag about, 3 PhDs to start with. But he was extremely modest.

One of the things he was willing to brag about was his godson. Sweet Henry had taught him so much more than he expected a 4-year-old would be able to.

The thing he always gloated about was his girlfriend.

Beautiful Y/n L/n had been with Spencer for 7 months. And he was whipped.

The team sat on the jet on the way to Seattle to do what they did best.

Spencer Reid was uncharacteristically on the phone, wrapping up a phone call. "I'll come over when I'm back... You know that stuff has so much sugar in it?... Alright, that's a fair rebuttal... I know, I thought that was clever...Yes, I'll get Phish food flavored Ben and Jerry's... I promise...I love you... Well, I'd tell you how scientifically inaccurate that is, but I have a feeling you need to go... Okay, goodbye, I love you." He took the phone away from his ear and hung up.

When he looked up at the team, everyone was looking at him. Morgan couldn't stop his snickers, JJ was giving him some serious side-eye, and Kate had a frown on her face. Thankfully, to save him some embarrassment, Hotch and Rossi weren't listening.

Spencer could feel the blush rising on his cheeks as he sheepishly put his phone away.

"I really hope that wasn't a family member," Kate spoke with an amused tone.

Morgan laughed at her. "You don't even want to know, Callahan." He informed her.

"N-no, it wasn't," Spencer assured her, still smiling.

Spencer's shyness inspired her to press the topic. "Okay, I'll bite, seeing as I'm the only one who doesn't know. Who was it?" Kate asked.

If she thought Spencer's bursts of random knowledge was his key talking point, she was about to figure out she was wrong.

"Oh, Callahan, you really should have stopped," Morgan cautioned her, shaking his head at the error in the new agent's ways.

"Y/n is my girlfriend." Spencer began. Both JJ and Morgan were also listening, secretly happy for the baby of the team. "She's the love of my life." He admitted proudly.

"And when did you start telling her you loved her?" JJ prompted, wanting Spencer to tell Kate the hilarious story.

Spencer glared at her, blushing. "I think I should start at the beginning." He told them all. "So, one Saturday, I'm at my apartment. Reading, of course."

"Because it's the only thing he does." Morgan interrupted, ruffling Spencer's already messy hair. Spencer pulled away from him with an annoyed groan.

"But, there's a knock on the door, and I wasn't expecting anyone." Spencer continued the story. "So, when I opened the door, Y/n was standing there." His face lit up with a smile. "She was in this short white summer dress, with a blue floral print. And she was so pretty... she is so pretty." He corrected himself, dreamily thinking about Y/n with a giddy smile.

Kate was smiling at him tenderly. "Keep going with your story. It sounds sweet." She requested.

Spencer nodded, more than happy to tell anyone who asked how much he loved his girlfriend. "Right, so she's in this dress in front of my apartment, and, obviously, we both have no idea who the other is." He explained, moving his hands to make the story more interesting. "Oh, and she has flowers." He still had the image of Y/n's pretty dress in his brain and her pretty face. Which was making it difficult for him to remember the full story. "It was a big bouquet of sunflowers. And I was really nervous about how pretty she was, so I just started on a whole spiel about sunflowers. Like how the scientific name for them is Helianthus, which comes from the Greek words helios, which means sun, and, anthus which means flower." Spencer start, gesturing with his hands.

"How long did you talk for?" Kate asked. For only just joining the team, she was very observant of Spencer's inclination for long rambling.

Morgan chuckled again, shaking his head at the answer he already knew. "4 minutes," Spencer admitted shyly, cheeks painted red. "I asked her if she knew that, in Chinese culture, sunflowers are given at graduations and the start of new businesses because they symbolize good luck." Spencer continued to ramble. "And I think she was a little put off because she just shook her head while frowning." He observed.

"I wonder why," JJ uttered with a side-eyed glance at Spencer. Still, she was smiling at her best friend's happiness.

Spencer just shrugged. "And I told her that sunflowers were the national flower of Ukraine and Russia. And asked her if she knew that they were worshipped by the Incas empire because of their resemblance to the sun. But she still shook her head. Then I told her all about the Fibonacci sequence and how all sunflower seeds follow the pattern." He babbled out facts. Still, it was the short version of what Y/n had heard when they first met.

"Is that how you always talk to girls you like?" Kate asked with an amused smile.

Morgan pipped up again. "Yes, I've tried to help him out before, but it's never worked."

"I did get a girlfriend all on my own." Spencer shot back. Morgan held his hands up in defense while JJ giggled. "When she did finally speak-"

"When you finally gave her the chance to speak." Morgan corrected.

Spencer shot him a glare before continuing. "She told me that clearly, she wasn't at the right apartment. But she wanted to know how I knew so much about sunflowers. And I was surprised that she didn't just think I was weird. She's just so kind." He fondly spoke of his girlfriend. "And I replied by nervously admitting I liked facts. She told me she was impressed, which I didn't believe. Because she's so gorgeous that I figured she'd been hit on a thousand times by guys much more attractive than me." Spencer's self-doubting tendencies came in. "But, somehow, I managed to thank her and ask her where she was meant to go." He continued. "She said it was my next-door neighbor and that the flowers were to cheer up her friend, who had gotten broken up with." Although he felt wrong for it, Spencer smiled at how Y/n's friend's unlucky day was his luckiest day. "So I told her where the apartment was, and then that sunflowers have a vase life of about 7 days. So, she takes a flower out of the bunch and gives it to me. And all she said was that she'd see me next week." Spencer finished the story of one of the best days of his life.

Kate found it adorable, as did JJ and maybe even Morgan, who was just hesitant to admit it. "That's so sweet." Kate cooed. Spencer nodded, still blushing a little. "Do you have a picture?" She asked.

Spencer eagerly pulled out his iPhone, which he only had because Y/n influenced him. She even had to teach him how to use it. He produced a full album of photos which he handed over to Kate to swipe through.

Pictures with Y/n made up 70% of his limited camera roll. Mostly it was photos she insisted on taking of them together. Spencer always argued, but they both knew he enjoyed it.

When he was away of cases, feeling low, he'd just look at a picture of her smiling face from a date they went on. Or Y/n reading in his apartment. He'd never enjoyed photography until he had a muse.

Kate flipped through the photos with a smile.

"The whole fact we even met was extremely improbable," Spencer told them, not diving into the actual number. "And I never believed in fate, but since I've met Y/n, I'm not so sure." He concluded.

Kate handed him his phone back. "You're right. She's pretty." Spencer took his phone, locking it before showing Kate the lock screen wallpaper. It was a picture of him and Y/n that Garcia had managed to capture. Y/n's hands were cupping his cheeks as she looked back into the camera with a huge grin, matching Spencer's. Every time a message came in with bad news, her smile made him feel better.

"I do want to hear the rest of this story, though." Kate reminded him, snapping him out of his daydream.

Spencer put his phone away. "Right, so she came back to my place the next week, and thankfully I was there. And she told me that her friend wasn't even home, but she'd come to see me. Of course, I was a little confused, not expecting her to even come back. But, I invited her into my very messy apartment, which still didn't deter her. She told me all about how her friend had noticed me coming and going at random times of the day and night and wanted to know what was up with that." Spencer recalled clearly. "But she thought I was some type of cool spy, so I just agreed. And I went to make coffee, but Garcia called, and Y/n picked up the phone." Spencer retold the story of how he heard Penelope's loudest squeals.

"So, what happened next?" Kate asked, figuratively on the edge of her seat.

"Right, so Y/n talks on the phone to Garcia until I come in, and she hands it over. And Garcia screamed in my ear for a minute about the 'mystery girl in my apartment.'" Spencer directly quoted with air quotes. "But then she said we had a case. So I had to very apologetically kick Y/n out of my apartment and go. She just kept telling me that it was totally alright." He continued. Maybe fate, if it was real, wasn't always on his side. "But, she gave me her number and said that when I got back, I owed her a cup of coffee," Spencer concluded the story of their second meeting.

He was grateful for Y/n for a lot of things. But, when he thought back to the start of their relationship, it was because of her forwardness.

"And I came back to DC at 5 in the morning, text her, and she was awake, so I agreed to meet her at her favorite cafe, and we got coffee," Spencer recalled their first date. "I brought her sunflowers because, to me, they have a deeper meaning than any ancient civilizations." He added.

To him, sunflowers would always be associated with the love of his life, standing on his doorstep.

"Aww, that's cute," Kate commented. She hadn't profiled Spencer as being a romantic until now. "What was she doing up at 5 am, though?" She questioned.

"Oh, she's a corporate lawyer. She's remarkably bright. She did a joint degree at Yale and Oxford so she can practice law in both countries." Spencer proudly replied. "But she was up because she was working on a merger for a company in London." He answered Kate's original question. "She's so smart that she graduated at the top of her classes in both countries." He continued to brag.

"She sounds really great, Reid," Kate replied. She hadn't been with the team for long, but she'd read all their files. And Spencer deserved every bit of love he was getting.

"Tell her the 'I love you' story." JJ requested, clearly paying more attention than she'd care to admit to the conversation.

Spencer nodded. "So, we'd been dating for 2 months, 25 days, 4 hours, and 21 minutes." He started, making everyone else laugh. "I wanted her to meet the team, and Rossi was having a dinner party, so I invited her. On the day of the party, I go to her apartment to pick her up in a suit." He set the scene for Kate. He had been so nervous for her to meet the team the whole day. "And she's wearing a gorgeous red satin dress. She always looks beautiful, but she looked extra beautiful that day. I was so flustered over how to act because I've never introduced anyone to the team."

When Spencer even announced he was planning on bringing a guest, everyone was shocked. Not one of them had heard about Y/n, but as soon as he spoke about her, they knew it was serious.

"So I go into her apartment, she kisses me, and she asks how I think she looks while she's collecting her things." Spencer began. "And because my brain was so overloaded with worries, I just told her I love her."

Only he would ever be able to see the shocked look on Y/n's face that slowly turned to joy. Only he would remember how it felt when she kissed him again, practically jumping into his arms. Only he would remember how relieved he felt when she said it back.

"She wasn't deterred by that?" Kate asked with a laugh.

Sure, it might have been early, and Spencer was never good with his feelings, but he was sure he loved Y/n.

He shook his head. "She said it back. And, of course, I told her how stunning she looked." He continued the story.

"She sounds great, Reid. When can I meet her?" Kate asked, now intrigued to meet the girl who turned Spencer to mush.

"Uh, well, when we get back to DC, I'm planning on asking her to move in with me." He squeaked out, voice higher.

JJ turned to look at him with wide eyes. "Spence-" She started.

Spencer interrupted, preempting her question. "I know we haven't been dating for long, but I see her nearly every day when I'm in DC. And whenever I'm away, we talk on the phone." He defended his choice.

JJ shook her head at him. "I was going to say congratulations." She corrected him.

"Oh, thank you," Spencer replied. He had been hoping for a warm response, but he wasn't sure he was going to get one.

Since he'd started dating her, he wanted nothing more than to come home from a hard case and have Y/n in his arms. Something about it assured him that everything would be alright.

He turned back to Kate. "So, I guess we'll have a housewarming." He replied, unable to wipe the smile off his face.

He didn't give any thought to what would happen if she said no. Y/n had taught him to be confident.

"Well, I'm very excited," Kate assured him. "Although, you probably shouldn't tell her that her ice cream has 'so much sugar in it.'" She warned him, using air quotes.

Spencer gave her a worried look before smiling.

Morgan stuck out a hand to ruffle his hair again. "You know you haven't stopped smiling since she called?" He observed with a smirk.

A comment like that would have made Spencer blush usually, but he was far too giddy with the thought of Y/n living with him to let it both her.

He just shrugged. "I'm completely in love, and can you blame me?"

Not one of them could fault that statement.

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This is so sweet 🤍

spencer and readers first fight ! can you possiblyyyy do something along the lines of spencer said something sassy/petty/mean which results in reader giving spencer the silent treatment and he crashes out begging for her to speak to him 🤓☝🏼

your first fight with spencer genre: slight angst, fluff word count: 1,7k a/n: i've been so excited to write this one! honestly way too long for a drabble, but i hope you enjoy it

“That’s okay. Your mind wouldn’t be able to comprehend a concept like this."

Spencer didn’t understand the gravity of his words before you huffed out a sigh, placing your hands on your knees as you lifted yourself up from the spot next to him on the couch. His eyes followed your body as you walked straight toward your shared bedroom, opening the door before shutting it behind you with a bang. The click of the lock echoed through the now silent living room.

Spencer sat frozen in place, his gaze fixed on the door as if you’d magically reappear in front of him.

Everything about your body language hinted at you being angry, but he couldn’t grasp why. He replayed the situation back in his head in an effort to decipher the reason.

You had cheerfully greeted him when he entered the apartment. He’d been away on a case for several days, not having had the time to speak to you over the phone or give you any updates on how he was doing.

As much as he preferred keeping clear boundaries between his personal and professional life, Spencer couldn’t resist telling you the details of some of his cases when coming home. Not when the psychology behind the unsubs fascinated him so much. And especially not when you eagerly pulled him toward the couch, pushing him down onto the soft cushions as you handed him a cup of freshly brewed coffee, ready to hear about his day.

You sat cross-legged in front of him, eyes twinkling with admiration as he told you about today’s case. He explained how he discovered a pattern in the way the unsub took his captives, using the numbers 11235 — the first five numerals in the Fibonacci sequence.

He noticed the frown forming between your brows as he got into more detail.

“Can you explain that to me? I don’t get it,” you asked.

“That’s okay. Your mind wouldn’t be able to comprehend a concept like this.”

Spencer wasn’t lying. He remembered how his coworkers had blankly stared at him when he analyzed his theory — how Emily made eye contact with JJ, their silent looks saying there he goes again, and how Hotch had to cut him off to tell him to get to the point. It wasn’t like he didn’t want to explain it to you, he just didn’t see the point in doing so, not when he knew this was a connection only he could understand.

After a couple of minutes, there was still radio-silence. Spencer got up and walked to the bedroom, knocking softly on the door. “Angel? Can you open up for me?”

“Just go away, Spencer.”

Your voice cracked, like you had been crying, and the sound made his heart sink.

“Please open the door so we can talk. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“What’s wrong?” Your scoff vibrated through the door. “I don’t even want to talk to you if you can’t understand what’s wrong.”

Spencer swallowed hard, his hands turning clammy. He didn’t like confrontations and especially not with you. You’d never fought before. Rationally, he knew fights weren’t necessarily a bad thing — conflicts usually stemmed from deeper fears and feelings that get triggered, and confronting these feelings could lead to creating an even stronger bond. But right now, all he wanted was to turn back time and make sure those words never left his mouth.

His mind blanked in situations like these, so the only logical fix he could come up with was to call Derek.

“Hey,” Spencer spoke through the phone, balancing the device between his ear and shoulder as he nervously paced through the living room.

“Hey man. What’s up?”

“I messed up.”

Morgan’s chuckle sounded through the speaker. “Our genius making a mistake. Who would’ve thought the day would come?”

Spencer sighed, losing his patience. “It’s serious.”

Derek paused before responding. “Alright, slow down. Tell me what happened.”

Spencer repeated the conversation for what felt like the hundredth time that day, his guilt accumulating with each repetition. He gulped when he heard Derek take a sharp inhale at the other side of the line. He could almost see him shaking his head.

“Okay,” Derek began. “Now listen to me. When it comes down to it, all women are the same, they just need some loving and appreciation. Go buy her some flowers before the store closes.”

Spencer didn’t need to be told twice. He glanced one last time at the still-locked bedroom door before heading out.

Thankfully, Spencer’s apartment was close to downtown. He hurried into the first flower shop that he spotted, his eyes scanning the bouquets until they landed on a pair of bright colored lilies. The outer corners of the petals shone with a radiant shade of pink, fading into a soft white at the center.

He cleared his throat as he placed the flowers on the counter. “Can I have these, please?”

The woman behind the counter started wrapping them in pink paper, reaching out for lint to tie a bow. “Trouble in paradise?”

Spencer blinked, not often experiencing someone seeing right through him. Besides his coworkers. And you.

“Ya know, I see so many men come in here on the daily. You can just tell they got in trouble with their lady; sweating bullets and rushing to pick a bouquet the second before the store closes.” She twirled the bouquet in her hand as she pulled on the strings of the lint bow. “At least you picked a nice one.”

“Do-,” Spencer hesitated, his voice softening in an uncertain whisper. “Will she forgive me after this?”

“Depends on what ya did,” she answered with a lift of her shoulders. “What I can tell you is that flowers don’t do much fixing.”

Damn it, Derek.

The florist turned around, rummaging through a drawer, before pulling out an envelope and sliding it across the counter.

“Write,” she stated in a single syllable. “We need words. We need to know that you care, and we need you to put more effort into it than paying ten dollars.”

With a new plan in mind, Spencer hurried home. The apartment was still silent when he returned, the door firmly closed and no signs of you having left the bedroom. He sighed and made his way to his desk, shoving aside piles of books and papers until he had enough space to write. He opened the envelope the florist had given him, and carefully pulled out a sheet of blank stationary.

My Lover Dearest,

It is ironic that I have read so much poetry and so many books in my life, and yet I cannot find the words to describe how much you mean to me.

Sometimes, I find it difficult to believe that someone as wonderful as you would want to be with me. That I’m allowed to deserve the love that you give me.

My mind works in strange ways, and as much as you’ve praised me for it, it can work as a curse as well. I am scared to overwhelm you, to talk your ears off (which would be a shame, because you have beautiful ears) to the point that you grow tired of me.

I never had the intention to cause you pain, or to initiate that you’re any less brilliant than you are. You are the brightest part of my life. I feel grateful every time I get to talk to you, and I would love nothing more than to explain any concept you’d want me to. I’m sorry for not having understood that before.

I love you. I love you. I have been wanting to tell you this in a special way, please know that I am not just saying this to ask for your forgiveness. I love you.

Sincerely, Spencer

The clock chimed 03.00 a.m. by the time Spencer finished his letter. His hand ached and he could barely keep his eyes open as he stumbled to the bedroom door. He turned the handle, but it wouldn’t budge. With a resigned sigh he slid the letter under the door and sat down against it. It didn’t take long for exhaustion to overtake him.

The repeated knocking of the door against his back woke him.

“Spencer?”

Your voice sounded like a siren, and he instantly scrambled away from the door, allowing you to open it fully.

You stood there, holding the envelope in your hand as your eyes softened when you glanced over him, mouth forming a small oh. “What are you doing here?” you asked in worry.

“The door was locked,” he answered, voice still hoarse from sleep.

A curse escaped your lips as you pressed your hands against your face. “I am so sorry. I must have fallen asleep with the door still locked.”

Spencer’s lips lifted into a small smile, relieved that you hadn’t locked him out intentionally. “It’s okay. Orthopedists actually recommend sleeping on the floor from time to time. Sleeping on a hard surface encourages a more natural position for your spine, which can reduce back pain. It even strengthens certain muscles, so the pressure on your body evens out. As a matter of fact, anthropological studies have shown that-”

He stopped mid-ramble, blushing when he noticed the faint smile tugging on your lips.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “I’ll stop,”

“Don’t you ever stop,” you replied as you lowered yourself on the ground next to him. You reached for his hands, placing them into your lap.

Spencer’s blush deepened, and he struggled to suppress a grin. Your encouragement reassured him, and he went on about groups in Japan and Tanzania who experience significantly lower rates of back pain due to their minimal use of furniture.

“Spencer,” you gently interrupted after a while.

He blinked at you, seeing the gleam in your eyes as you adoringly stared at him. “Hm?”

“I love you too.”

Cuteeee

can you write about cold!reader where the team finds out they're together? ahh i love them so much!

UNDENIABLY YOURS. /spencer reid/

you pick up the wrong phone.

late s10 cold!reader 2.6k fluff series masterlist. main masterlist.

a/n | love a good cliche :)

Spencer’s apartment is quiet. Not the kind of quiet that feels awkward or hollow, but the kind that settles over you like a warm blanket—a gentle hush made of ticking clocks, the occasional hum of traffic outside, and the soft shuffling sounds of a man who’s currently making tea in the kitchen.

You’re on his couch, half-curled under a throw blanket that doesn’t quite cover your feet. The place smells like old books and something herbal, likely the blend Spencer claims is “soothing to the parasympathetic nervous system.” You never asked what that meant. You suspect it’s just chamomile with a marketing degree.

The night stretched longer than you intended. Dinner turned into wine, which turned into a slow tour through his cluttered bookshelves, which turned into another round of debate over Kant’s categorical imperative versus utilitarian ethics.

You were only supposed to drop by after work. A quick visit, maybe an hour. But Spencer always pulls time out from under you like a magician with a tablecloth.

And you stay. Again.

You don’t touch much when you’re with him. Not like you could. He’s all soft eyes and hesitant hands. He doesn’t crowd you, doesn’t demand declarations or affection you’re not ready to give. And you? You’re good at compartmentalising. At keeping your feelings tucked into corners, neatly labeled and out of reach. It’s safer that way. Less chaotic.

But you always show up.

That counts for something, right?

“Tea,” he says, emerging from the kitchen with two mismatched mugs. He hands you the one with faded cartoon planets on it. You take it wordlessly.

“Still pretending this helps your parasympathetic system or whatever?” you murmur into the rim of the cup.

Spencer smiles. He always smiles when you needle him. Like he knows it’s your version of affection. Like he’s fluent in your brand of emotional repression.

“I’m not pretending,” he says, settling into the armchair across from you. “There are studies,”

“There are always studies,”

“You want me to send you the links?”

“No,”

“You’d like the one from 2009. It discusses—”

“Spencer,”

“Okay,” he says, holding up both hands in mock surrender. “No studies,”

You sip the tea. It’s hot and bitter and tastes like him. Not literally—he doesn’t taste like dried flowers—but something about the comfort of the moment, the soft warmth of the mug against your palm, the way he looks at you like you’re not a puzzle to solve but a story he’s enjoying watching unfold. It’s familiar. Steady.

Which is probably why you’re still here.

“You staying?” he asks after a few minutes, voice casual. Too casual. Like he didn’t spend the last half hour not asking.

You glance at the clock. It’s past midnight. Late enough to make the excuse that you’re just tired and don’t want to drive. You’re already in the oversized hoodie he handed you—his hoodie, not yours—and your shoes are near the door, lined up next to his like it means something.

You should deflect. You always deflect.

Instead, you say, “Yeah,”

He doesn’t react much, just nods, but there’s a softness in his eyes that makes your chest ache in a way you refuse to examine.

He doesn’t ask for more. He never does.

It’s part of the deal.

Instead, he turns on some lo-fi instrumental playlist (he claims lyrics distract his brain when he’s trying to wind down), and you both migrate to his bedroom.

—

You don’t remember falling asleep. Just that at some point, your eyes fluttered shut, and for once, your thoughts didn’t keep you awake. No spiraling worst-case scenarios. No calculating emotional fallout. Just warmth, and the slow, steady rhythm of Spencer breathing beside you. The kind of peace you don’t admit you crave.

Until it’s shattered.

The phone rings—sharp, insistent—and you jolt awake in an instant, heart pounding with the abrupt transition. The room is pitch black, save for the glowing screen on the nightstand. Spencer groans softly beside you, but doesn’t move.

Still half-asleep, you fumble your hand over the nightstand. Spencer’s glasses, unfinished book, rectangle of impending doom. That’s the one.

“Unless there’s an active terrorist threat,” you snap, voice rough with sleep, “there is zero reason to be calling this late.”

There’s a beat of stunned silence.

Then, cautiously, “…Wait, who is this?”

You rub your face with your free hand, already annoyed. “Who do you think?”

Another pause—longer this time. And then, sharply suspicious, “…Not Spencer Reid?”

You blink, finally focusing on the phone’s lock screen. It’s not yours. Definitely not yours.

You sit up slightly, stomach dropping. Shit. “Uh—”

Spencer stirs beside you, blinking blearily. “Wha’s going on…?”

And that’s when it happens. A long, slow intake of breath through the receiver.

“Oooooooooooooooooh,”

You try to recover. “Garcia.”

“Oh my god,” she hisses, like she just found the holy grail. “I knew something was going on! Oh my god, I knew it!”

Spencer’s sitting up now, trying to make sense of the chaos. “Who is it?”

“Penelope,” you say flatly, glancing at the screen like it’s radioactive as you reluctantly put the call on speakerphone. “What do you want?”

“I need visual confirmation immediately,” Garcia is saying, way too awake for 2:07 AM. “Is he shirtless? Wait—are you? Never mind, don’t answer that. I respect boundaries. Mostly. Oh my god.”

“Garcia.” you say, trying for a tone of calm, rational authority, but it comes out more defensive than intended. ”What do you want?”

“We have an urgent case my dear lovebirds,” She’s practically vibrating through the phone. Hotch wants everyone in the office. Oh I can’t wait to see everyone’s reactions,”

“Garcia—”

“Nope! Too late! This is the best news I’ve gotten all year. JJ owes me twenty dollars, I knew I saw something in the way you looked at each other during the surveillance briefing last month. I have receipts.”

“We’ll be in the office soon,” Spencer mumbles, already resigned.

“Oh, you better be,” she says, like she’s the one running the FBI now. “Buckle up, lovebirds!”

The call ends with a cheerful “Byeeeeeee!” and a click.

You sit there in stunned silence, phone still in your hand, the screen now dark and judgmental. Spencer groans, collapsing backward into the pillows.

“She’s going to tell everyone,”

“She’s already telling everyone,” you correct, flopping back beside him.

“This is going to be so embarrassing,”

You glance over at him—hair tousled, face flushed, one arm slung over his eyes like he’s trying to hide from the world. It’s honestly… kind of adorable.

You smile, just a little. “Could be worse,”

—

The BAU's conference room is already buzzing when you and Spencer walk in—thirty minutes later, coffee in hand, trying very hard to pretend this is just a normal Thursday.

It is not a normal Thursday.

Everyone is already there. Everyone is already looking.

Garcia practically explodes with smug glee the second she sees you. She doesn’t say a word—she doesn’t have to. She’s vibrating with the restrained chaos of someone who knows they’ve set off a very satisfying chain reaction. Her eyes sparkle. Her smile is enormous. She’s won something, and she knows it.

Spencer, for his part, looks like he wants the floor to swallow him whole. He’s gone unusually quiet, hiding behind the rim of his coffee cup like it’s a shield. He keeps tugging at the sleeves of his sweater, hands jittery, face flushed, clearly regretting every decision that led to this moment. He won’t look at anyone.

And everyone else?

Well.

JJ’s eyebrows are in her hairline. Emily’s face is frozen somewhere between astonishment and visible mental recalibration. Morgan looks like he just got handed a particularly juicy tabloid headline. And Rossi—bless him—leans back in his chair, crosses his arms, and gives you both the kind of slow, impressed once-over usually reserved for rare bourbon.

Nobody says anything.

The silence stretches.

Spencer makes a small noise like he’s about to speak—probably to stammer through some clumsy attempt at clarification—but you beat him to it.

You cross your arms, plant your feet, and deliver the line like a press briefing:

“Yes, we’re dating. No, we haven’t had sex. We’ve been together officially for three months. I will not answer any questions, so don’t ask them.”

It lands like a bomb.

The room goes absolutely silent.

For a few blessed seconds, no one dares to move.

Then, from the corner, Rossi lets out a low chuckle—more impressed than anything else. “Well. That’s one way to do it,”

Morgan whistles low under his breath, shaking his head with an admiring grin. “Damn, kid,” he says to Spencer, who is now actively hiding behind his coffee. “I knew you had game,”

Garcia looks like she’s about to start clapping. You shoot her a warning glare.

“I’m just happy for you!” she chirps, hands raised in innocence. “This is so good for team morale,”

You glance at Spencer—his face still red, lips pressed tight like he’s trying not to die on the spot—and sigh.

Hotch remains blissfully unaffected.

He’s sitting at the head of the conference table, scrawling something on a case file with his ever-present air of detached focus. His pen moves in slow, methodical strokes as if he’s entirely unaware that the team has just been thrown into chaos.

Everyone is staring at Hotch now, waiting for him to react, but he doesn’t—he doesn’t even look up from his paperwork.

Rossi, of course, is the first to break the silence. “You knew about this,”

Hotch finally looks up—barely. It’s almost as if he’s taking a mental note of your existence before giving his usual level of minimal acknowledgment.

“They informed me,” he says matter-of-factly. “HR protocols.”

The silence in the room grows exponentially. HR protocols?

Rossi looks betrayed. So does Emily. JJ blinks rapidly, trying to process the betrayal. Even Morgan stares at Hotch like he just said something deeply alien to their universe.

Garcia’s jaw drops in comically exaggerated shock. “Wait… you knew and didn’t tell us? Hotch!” She looks almost wounded by the injustice of it all.

Hotch, however, doesn’t seem bothered in the slightest. He leans back in his chair, tapping his pen idly on the table. “I was informed of a change in personal relationships within the team,” he says, as if explaining why his coffee’s not hot enough. “Standard procedure.”

Derek’s mouth twitches with the effort to hold back laughter, clearly fighting the urge to burst into full-on chuckles. “That’s it? No ‘I’m happy for you’ or ‘This changes everything!’?”

Hotch doesn’t even flinch. “Congratulations,” he adds with minimal sincerity, glancing up briefly, before continuing, “but we have an urgent case to focus on.”

Everyone’s collective sense of betrayal is palpable. There’s a beat of stunned silence before Emily, trying to save face, says, “I… I guess we should focus on the case.” She says it with half a smile, but the effort is obvious. “But seriously, Hotch. No heads-up? Not even a hint?”

Hotch simply gives them his patented “this is serious business” look and straightens up. “Focus, everyone.” His voice brooks no argument. “We’re being briefed on a new case, and I need all of you focused. Now.”

And just like that, the air in the room shifts. The humor fades, the teasing subsides, and everyone reluctantly pulls their attention to the matter at hand.

—

The rest of the day passes in a haze of good-natured (and sometimes not so good-natured) teasing. Derek, as always, is the first to crack a joke.

“So, you two gonna make superhuman babies, or what?” he smirks, raising his eyebrows suggestively as he watches you and Spencer in the hallway.

Spencer nearly chokes on his coffee, his face turning an even deeper shade of red. “Morgan,” he stammers, voice barely above a whisper, “can you not?”

Derek just grins wider. “Oh, I’m just getting started, loverboy,” He winks at you both and saunters off with the most obnoxious swagger imaginable.

Garcia, never one to be outdone, is already planning date ideas before you even step off the jet. “You two should so check out that new fancy restaurant that just opened up down the street,” She nods at you, holding up her phone like she’s already making the reservation.

You raise an eyebrow at Spencer, just to see his reaction. He’s still turning red, but you can’t help a small, satisfied smile at the sight of his discomfited expression.

“No, Garcia. We shouldn’t,”

“Oh come on,” She beams. “I would die to be taken there on a date,”

You tilt your head at her, “You really think we would enjoy a place like that? Really?”

“Well…”

Emily, for her part, is still trying to process what the hell just happened. She keeps glancing at you both, trying to act casual but clearly still in disbelief. “So soon—” She shakes her head. “I’m just—wow. Okay. Good for you, I guess? I’ve gotta go hide from Morgan now, completely unrelated—”

JJ just chuckles, arms crossed. “Congratulations, both of you. I’m really happy for you,”

You could almost thank the universe for the relief of normalcy. You don’t. The universe didn’t do shit. It was all you. And Spencer. Mainly Spencer. “Thank you,”

The day finally winds down, and it’s time to leave. Spencer walks you to your hotel room, still looking like he might burst into flames from sheer embarrassment. You’ve let him be teased by the others, of course, but nothing too much. He’s still wearing that sheepish, half-worried expression as you approach your car, and you can’t help but smirk.

“Well,” you say, glancing up at him as you lean against the room’s door, “Now they know,”

Spencer groans. It’s low, and it carries all the weight of his supposed regret. “Yeah,”

You lean in just a little, close enough that your voices are quiet but not enough for anyone else to overhear. You keep your tone flat, but there’s something soft in your eyes when you speak.

“Could’ve been worse,” you remark, just barely meeting his gaze. A quiet reassurance, a little more tender than the rest of the day has been. It’s not the most romantic thing in the world, but it’s yours.

He’s helpless, standing there, still flustered. But the way he looks at you—fondness in his eyes and a soft laugh escaping his lips—makes everything feel more okay than it probably should.

You reach up a soft hand to brush over the side of Spencer’s face, a juxtaposition he’d never point out unless you asked, and he smiles against you as you kiss him goodnight.

You’re barely parted when he speaks, foreheads pressed together and his declaration a whisper on your lips. “I love you,”

“Thank you,” you nod softly as you separate, “Goodnight, Spencer,”

“goodnight,”

This is perfect 🤍

okay but when the team actually starts calling the reader and aaron mom and dad behind their backs and one day someone lets it slip out in front of them??

i just… aaron’s reaction?????

the parentals

i love this dynamic SO MUCH cw; fem!bau!reader, established relationship, fluff <3

as you and aaron entered the bullpen, you were both quick to notice the others huddled around spencer's desk, surely for a new session of physics magic.

a smile immediately twitched at aaron's lips, tossing you a mischievous look. as long as it didn't make a mess, or a disruption - per his and reid's previous discussions - he really didn't mind the recurring demonstrations.

but would he ever miss an opportunity to get the blood rushing in this scenario - never.

"be nice." you teased, laughing softly under your breath as you followed him over.

"i'm always nice." aaron playfully insisted, those brown eyes flickering in that way that just melted your heart. "what do you mean?"

"better be careful," emily's warning came into earshot as you neared, completely oblivious to the two of you - the timing just perfect. "or else dad's gonna ground you."

aaron's expression quirked at the title, his eyebrows lightly furrowing.

"oh please," spencer said, his fingers making quick work of whatever the experiment happened to be. "he's too busy with mom-"

jj's eyes happened to lift right at mom, made direct eye contact with you, and immediately choked back a laugh. some horror timidly filled her eyes, and she didn't cover up her sound too adequately. it caused the others to instantly look up too, and freeze.

"busted." jj mumbled, her gaze finding the ground.

aaron's smile resurfaced, crossing his arms. his tone was playful, yet confused and utterly amused nonetheless. "dad?"

spencer flushed. "uh..."

"oh c'mon. cut the crap." emily interrupted with an eye roll, looking between the two of you. "like it's not shocking at this point. just look at what the two of you were about to do, lecture us-"

"hey no," with a laugh you cut in, arching an eyebrow. "i don't lecture."

"exactly. he does," emily crossed her arms also with a smitten smirk - her point thoroughly exhibited. "you're the flexible one. see, mom and dad."

"i always thought rossi was dad." aaron expressed openly, a small chuckle shaking through his chest.

"no, you were always dad," jj shook her head, "rossi was mom, until," once again, her eyes found yours, smiling softly this time. "until someone else came around, and took on the role wholeheartedly."

you grinned, exchanging a quick, loving glance with aaron. "what's dave now, then?"

"old."

What about cutie first season Spencer Reid who is desperately in love with his coworker and is kinda blind sided when Lila kisses him🥺 He wants to make it really clear that the kiss was one sided but his soon to be girlfriend is jealous jealous🩷

jealous — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: reader being jealous , mention of lila ( obviously ) a/n: hiii !!! i hope you like this :)

When you read in books the phrase “jealousy boiled in her veins,” you never quite understood it. Sure, you’d felt jealousy before, in fleeting moments of insecurity or longing.

But boiling jealousy? That had always seemed like an exaggeration. 

Not until four days ago. 

Though, boiling wasn’t the right word for it. No, what you felt then was explosive jealousy.

A kind of heat so intense it made your skin prickle, your throat tighten, your hands curl into fists at your sides. It was the kind of jealousy that made your stomach churn and your heart pound with something dangerously close to heartbreak. 

Because four days ago, you saw them. 

Spencer and Lila. In the pool. 

The images were burned into your memory, tattooed on the inside of your eyelids like a cruel joke. Every time you closed your eyes, there they were—her arms wrapped around his neck and their faces too close.

You had barely slept since. 

And work? Work was even worse. 

Two days ago, when you walked into the BAU for the first time since that dreadful moment, you told yourself you’d be fine. You could be professional. You could pretend it didn’t bother you. 

But you couldn’t even look at Spencer. 

Every time he stepped near you, all you could see was her in his arms. Every time he spoke, all you could hear was the laughter they shared in that damn pool. You forced yourself to act normal, to keep your voice steady and your posture composed.

But it was so, so hard. 

Elle had noticed. She kept shooting you those pointed glances, raising an eyebrow in silent question. Are you okay? 

Of course you weren’t. 

How could you be when you had been crushing on Spencer for so long, you could barely remember a time when you hadn’t been? How could you be okay when the sight of him with someone else had nearly shattered you? 

Spencer noticed too. Of course he did. 

He wasn’t oblivious—not when it came to you. He saw the way you avoided his gaze, the way your once warm smiles had faded into stiff nods and clipped responses. He saw the way your shoulders tensed when he entered the room, how you kept your distance like even standing next to him was unbearable. 

And it was unbearable. 

He wanted to talk to you, to explain. 

To tell you that what happened was one-sided. That he hadn’t meant for it to happen. That he hadn’t wanted it to happen. That it had been unexpected and overwhelming and, ultimately, meaningless. 

That he was in love with you, not Lila. 

But how could he say that when you wouldn’t even look at him? When every time he tried to get close, you turned away? When the words on the tip of his tongue kept dying in the silence you forced between you? 

Today, when you walked into the bullpen, the first thing you noticed was Derek. He was leaning against Spencer’s desk, a smirk playing on his lips as he held a paper in his hand.

The moment he saw you, he straightened, casually tossing the paper into the trash, his expression softening as he placed a warm hand on your shoulder. 

“Morning, sweetheart,” he greeted smoothly. 

“Morning,” you replied, offering him a small, tired smile. 

You already knew what he had been holding. The pictures. The ones of Spencer and Lila in the pool. The same ones Derek had undoubtedly been using to tease Spencer with before you arrived. You also knew why Derek immediately threw the magazine away.

Because Derek, just like the rest of the team, knew exactly how you felt about Spencer. 

And how Spencer felt about you. 

Everyone with eyes and ears could tell. The way you gravitated toward each other, how you always seemed to seek each other out, how Spencer’s face lit up when you laughed. It wasn’t just friendship. It had never been just friendship. 

Spencer glanced up from his desk as you passed by, flashing you a hesitant, almost hopeful smile. 

You only nodded, forcing yourself to keep walking. 

You settled into your chair, taking a slow breath as you forced your hands to stay busy, flipping through the files on your desk. You could feel Spencer’s gaze lingering on you, like he was trying to gather the courage to say something. 

Spencer missed you. 

He missed the conversations, the inside jokes, the way you used to nudge his shoulder whenever you walked by. He missed the way your voice softened when you said his name, the way you actually listened to his rambles instead of tuning them out like most people did. 

And he wanted—needed—to explain. 

But every time he opened his mouth to speak, the words tangled in his throat. Because what if he ruined everything? What if trying to explain just made things worse? 

He had been so close before all of this happened.

Just a few days ago, he had been sitting right here, talking to Elle, asking for advice on how to ask you out. He had been nervous, but excited. He had a plan, one he had been going over in his head a hundred times—something simple, something meaningful. He just wanted you to know how much you meant to him. 

But then Lila happened. 

And now, instead of planning a date, he was trying to figure out how to make you look at him again. 

He couldn’t take it anymore. 

Spencer stood abruptly, pushing back his chair with a quiet scrape against the floor. He hesitated for only a second before crossing the room, stopping just beside your desk. 

“Can we talk?” His voice was quieter than usual. 

You didn’t look up right away, your fingers tightening around the file in front of you. A moment passed before you finally let out a slow sigh and nodded. 

“Okay.” 

Spencer felt his heart stutter in relief. 

The two of you walked to the breakroom in silence. 

Spencer closed the door behind him, the soft click sounding much louder in the quiet space. He hesitated, shifting from foot to foot, fingers twitching slightly at his sides. 

“I—” He stopped, inhaling sharply. Then exhaled. Then hesitated again. 

You leaned against the coffee counter, arms crossed, waiting. Your heart pounded a little too fast in your chest. You felt awkward—just a tiny bit. Because Spencer wanting to talk to you meant he had noticed your behavior. Not that you had been subtle about it. 

But it also meant he had noticed your jealousy. 

And that was almost worse. 

Finally, Spencer spoke, his voice quiet, careful. Earnest. 

“I miss you.” 

Your head snapped up and you just stared at him, wide-eyed. 

You didn't expect him to be so direct.

Spencer was blushing, a deep red creeping up his neck, dusting the tips of his ears. He looked like he wanted to disappear, like saying those three words had been the most terrifying thing he had ever done—which, knowing him, it very well might have been. 

But the way he was looking at you, like he was afraid he had already lost you, made something twist painfully in your chest. 

“I—” You swallowed, your throat suddenly dry. “You… what?” 

Spencer gave a small, nervous laugh, running a hand through his hair. “I miss you,” he repeated, voice softer this time. “And I—I know you’re upset. I know why. And I just… I need you to know that what happened with Lila, it—it wasn’t what it looked like.” 

You pressed your lips together, your fingers gripping the counter behind you. “It looked like you were kissing her,” you muttered, unable to stop the sharp edge in your voice. 

Spencer winced. “She kissed me,” he corrected quickly. “I—I didn’t expect it, and I definitely didn’t want it. I pulled away as soon as I—” He stopped himself, shaking his head. “It wasn’t what I wanted.” 

You stared at him for a long moment. He was shifting anxiously, his hands half-raised like he wanted to reach for you but didn’t know if he could. His brows were drawn together, his lips pressed into a tight line, like he was bracing himself for you to tell him you didn’t care. 

But you did care. That was the problem, wasn’t it? 

You looked down, inhaling deeply before meeting his gaze again. “Then… what do you want, Spencer?” 

His breath hitched. 

For a moment, he said nothing, just looking at you like he was memorizing every detail of your face, like he needed to get this right. Then, finally, he took a small step forward, eyes locked onto yours. 

“You,” he said simply.

Your heart stopped. 

And then it started again, thundering against your ribs, because Spencer Reid had just admitted—out loud—that he wanted you. 

The jealousy that had been burning inside you for days was suddenly replaced by something else entirely. 

Hope. 

“I—what?” Your ability to form sentences had seemingly vanished. Your mouth hung slightly open as you stared at him, heart hammering against your ribs. 

Spencer, for his part, was barely looking at you. His eyes flickered to yours for a second before darting back to the coffee pot behind you, like it was suddenly the most fascinating thing in the world. 

“Me?” you finally managed to say. That was it. That was all your brain could come up with. Me? 

Spencer nodded, still not quite meeting your gaze. 

Silence stretched between you, thick with unsaid words.

Then, finally, he spoke again. 

“I was—I was trying to figure out how to ask you out,” he admitted, his voice quieter now, more uncertain. “I was talking to Elle about it, actually. Trying to…to make a plan.” His hands twitched at his sides, like he wasn’t sure what to do with them. “And then Lila—” He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “Everything just got messed up.” 

“Really?” you asked, your lips curving into the smallest hint of a smile. 

Spencer finally looked at you again, his expression both relieved and vulnerable all at once. “Yeah,” he breathed out. 

The heaviness in your chest eased, just a little. 

You took a slow step toward him, close enough that you could see the way his breath hitched, the way his fingers curled slightly like he was stopping himself from reaching for you. 

“So…” You tilted your head, your voice softer now. “How were you going to ask me?” 

Spencer let out a short, nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Uh… I had a whole thing planned. Something about books and coffee and, um, statistics on first-date success rates…” He trailed off, his face burning. “It was probably a bad plan.” 

You bit your lip, your smile growing. “I don’t know,” you mused, your heart pounding. “I think I would’ve liked it.” 

Spencer blinked at you, hope flickering across his face. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward this time. It was warm.

You took another step forward, and this time, Spencer didn’t move away. He was still nervous, still hesitant, but he didn’t look away when you reached out and brushed your fingers against his. 

“I still would,” you said quietly. 

Spencer swallowed, his fingers twitching against yours before he finally, finally curled them around your hand. His grip was unsure at first—like he was waiting for you to change your mind—but when you didn’t pull away, his shoulders relaxed. 

“Then,” he said, his lips curving ever so slightly, “would you maybe want to—” 

“Yes,” you interrupted, grinning now. 

Spencer smiled, a real, relieved smile, and you felt something settle in your chest—something that had been in turmoil for days. 

I love Derek Morgan and Penelope Garcia

can i request a derek fic where readers also in BAU and they’re married and everytime someone says “morgan” both her and derek turn around or show up and the teams figuring out how to differentiate the morgan’s and dereks just all smug like “yeah she’s MY wife”

i love you’re writing btw!!!🩷

"Morgan?" Penelope calls from the kitchen, "You're scheduled for a retake of your ID photo today at 12!"

The responses she gets are a, 'What?' from you, and a, 'What'd you say?' from your husband. You blink bewilderedly at him, and relish the way that his grin lights up the room between you, like a sunbeam shot into your chest.

"Oh, not you," Penelope huffs, peering over the open door of the fridge to glance between you two, "I meant the pretty one!"

"That doesn't narrow it down, babygirl," Derek raises an amused brow at her, drumming his pen on the wood surface of his desk, "You talking to me or my wife?"

"Your wife!" Penelope all but snaps, "Derek, your ego is so inflated."

"It's your fault," You tease Penelope, who withdraws from the fridge with a can of soda and a slightly guilty expression on her face, "I seem to remember you answering just about a thousand of his phone calls with, 'Ahoy there, sexy'."

"Stop," She pleads regretfully, cracking the tab on her soda can with more force than she needs to, "Don't- stop! I didn't know you two were- were hitched! -were canoodling! I never would have talked about his abs if I'd known he was taken."

"It's okay," You promise her, and you really mean it, because you know for all of their sex-crazed banter, they're friends to the highest degree, and Derek is faithful to you. "Penelope, if it weren't for you, he wouldn't know how to paint nails."

"It's true," Derek nods, grabbing your hand to showcase the baby blue color he'd applied for you just yesterday, "You're my personal trainer, P.G."

She surrenders with a sigh, and you're glad that she seems to not harbor any real guilt, because you'd hate for her to be burdened with it. She leans in to peer at your hand Derek has on display, and when she looks closely at your ring finger, her nose scrunches in a grimace.

"You got it on her cuticles, Derek," She chides, disapproval apparent in her tone that makes your chest shake in a gleeful laugh, "Have I taught you nothing?"

This was so beautiful

all those dreams where you’re my wife

gif by @reidgif

inside your mind - the 1975

Spencer Reid x Fem Reader

summary: coming down from the highs of sex, Spencer and Reader talk about his brain and its thoughts.

genre: fluff & angst

word count: 2.1K

warnings: no use of y/n, proofread, this is an old piece of writing.

masterlist!

Panting softly, your breath mingled with his, your chest rising and falling in tandem with Spencer’s. Your body felt weightless, the afterglow of your shared passion wrapping around you like a warm blanket. Sweat clung to your skin, and the soft hum of his heartbeat echoed in your ear where your head rested against his shoulder. The intimacy of the moment felt sacred, a shared silence that spoke volumes without words.

Spencer was unusually quiet. Not that his silence was uncommon—he often retreated into his mind after moments like this, his thoughts working in overdrive as if the endorphins had unlocked new pathways in his brilliant brain. He’d once explained to you that post-coital clarity often helped him connect dots he’d never considered before. You’d always found it endearing, a quirk that made him uniquely Spencer.

But tonight, something was different. His quiet wasn’t contemplative—it felt heavier, like the weight of his thoughts pressed down on both of you. You couldn’t help but notice the way his fingers hesitated as they traced lazy circles on your back, the way his chest rose with a sigh that seemed to carry the weight of the world.

“What’s wrong, handsome?” you murmured softly, lifting your head just enough to meet his gaze. His chin, which had been resting lightly against the crown of your head, shifted as he tilted his face toward you. His eyes, usually warm and filled with an endless stream of curiosity, now held a flicker of something else—something guarded.

For a moment, he didn’t answer. He just looked at you, his brow furrowing ever so slightly as if he were weighing his words. You could see the gears turning in his mind, the way he struggled to reconcile his thoughts with the honesty that had always been the cornerstone of your relationship.

“Nothing, sweetheart,” he said finally, his voice soft but unconvincing.

It was a lie—a glaring, obvious lie. Spencer was many things: a genius, a profiler, a man who could recall entire books word for word. But a liar? Never. You knew him too well, knew the way his eyes darted away for just a fraction of a second when he was trying to mask the truth. He knew you knew, too, which made his attempt at deception almost endearing.

You propped yourself up on your elbow, your fingers brushing a stray lock of hair from his damp forehead. “Spence,” you said gently, your tone a mix of affection and concern. “You’re a lot of things, but a good liar isn’t one of them. Talk to me.”

His lips parted as if to protest, but the words caught in his throat. He sighed again, this one deeper, as though the act of holding everything inside was physically exhausting. “It’s not that I don’t want to tell you,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “It’s just… complicated.”

“Complicated doesn’t scare me,” you replied, leaning down to press a kiss to his temple.

He let out a breath, his gaze darting away for a moment before returning to yours. “It’s not that I don’t want to tell you,” he admitted, his voice quieter now, almost fragile. “It’s just… I don’t know how to explain it.”

You frowned, leaning closer. “Try me,” you said softly. “You don’t have to have it all figured out. Just tell me what you’re feeling.”

His hand moved softly, almost reverently, to the back of your head. His fingers threaded through your hair with a gentleness that sent shivers down your spine, pausing now and then as though he were mapping the curve of your skull. There was something purposeful in the way he touched you, something that felt more like exploration than comfort.

“I wish I could know you the way you know yourself,” he murmured, his voice low and thoughtful. His fingers continued their journey, tracing invisible patterns that only he could see. “I want to be able to have your brain all laid out in front of me, every thought, every memory, every piece of you.”

The weight of his words hung in the air, his voice soft but steady as he continued, almost to himself. “The back of your head is at the front of my mind.”

He fell silent for a moment, his brow furrowing slightly as if trying to untangle the thoughts swirling in his mind. His hand didn’t stop moving, the gentle rhythm of his touch grounding both of you in the quiet intimacy of the moment.

After a long pause, he spoke again, his voice tinged with hesitation. “Sometimes, when you’re asleep, I’ll just… watch you breathe.” His eyes flickered toward you, searching your face as though bracing for judgment, but his hand never faltered.

“I’ll watch the way your breathing slows, the way it evens out. It’s like… proof. Proof that you’re real, that you’re here with me. And then I start to wonder…” His voice trailed off, but the weight of his thoughts lingered in the air.

His fingers stilled briefly before resuming their gentle path, tracing the base of your skull as though it held the answers he was searching for. “I wonder what you’re dreaming about,” he continued, his voice softer now, almost fragile. “I wonder if you dream of me, or of the things you love, or the things you want in life. And I can’t help but think about how much I want to know every part of you. What makes you happy, what makes you sad, what you think about when no one’s watching.”

His other hand came to rest on your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin. His gaze was intense, those wide, earnest eyes searching yours for understanding. There was no shame in his vulnerability, only a raw, unfiltered need to be known and to know you in return.

“I don’t want to miss anything,” he admitted, his voice trembling slightly. “You’re the most important person in my life, and sometimes it terrifies me how much I feel for you. Like… like I’ll never be able to express it the way I want to.”

The silence stretched between you, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. His hand lingered on your cheek, the other still cradling the back of your head as though he could hold your thoughts in his palm.

He let out a soft, shaky breath, his forehead lowering until it rested against yours. “I don’t deserve you,” he whispered, the words almost too quiet to hear.

For a moment, he stayed like that, his eyes closed, his breathing syncing with yours. His hands stayed gentle, as though he were afraid of breaking the moment. And then he pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you with a desperation that spoke of a love too big for words.

In the quiet that followed, his touch said everything he couldn’t, and you let it.

In the gentle quiet of the room, Spencer’s voice broke through like a fragile thread, hesitant yet determined. “I mainly watch you sleep because I’m terrified of my mind,” he admitted, his tone a mix of vulnerability and unease. He hesitated, his fingers nervously fidgeting with the edge of the blanket as if debating whether to pull the veil back on his inner torment.

His gaze dropped to the floor, his breath catching slightly as he continued. “When I sleep…” he started, the words trembling on the edge of his lips. “I dream that you’ve been taken. It’s always the same. I’m helpless, paralyzed—every step I take feels like wading through quicksand, and no matter how hard I try, I can’t reach you.”

His voice grew quieter, a raw edge creeping into it, but he forced himself to keep going. “By the time I finally get to you, it’s too late. You’re lying there…” His voice cracked, and he swallowed hard, as though the very memory of the dream clawed at his throat. “You’re lying on the ground in a pool of your own blood. And the only thing I can see, the thing that haunts me even after I wake up, is the ring on your finger.” The room seemed to close in on you, the silence heavy and suffocating. You didn’t know what to say, how to respond to such a confession. You’d never talked about marriage—not explicitly, at least—but there had always been an unspoken understanding between you two. You both wanted it, you both felt it in your bones, but life had never given you the time to explore that possibility.

But hearing Spencer speak of the ring, of the symbol of everything you meant to him, in such a terrifying, haunting context—it shook you. The dream wasn’t just about losing you; it was about him failing you. About the one thing that represented his commitment, his love for you, now twisted into something horrific, something he couldn’t escape.

Your mind raced, trying to process the weight of his words, the depth of his fear. You could see it now—the desperation in his eyes, the vulnerability in the way he held himself. Spencer was afraid. Afraid of losing you, fearful of not being able to protect you.

In that moment, the love between you felt both fragile and immense. You reached out to him, your hand finding his, the warmth of your touch grounding him in the storm of his emotions. You didn’t need to say anything—he already knew how much you cared. But still, you squeezed his hand, hoping to convey everything that words couldn’t.

Spencer finally looked up, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “It’s supposed to be a symbol of everything good, everything I’ve ever wanted to give you. But in that moment, it feels like a mockery—a cruel reminder that I couldn’t protect you. That I failed you.”

The room fell silent, his words lingering in the air like a fragile echo. He looked at you then, his gaze pleading for understanding, for some assurance that the horrors of his subconscious didn’t define him.

“Spencer Reid, you could never fail me, not ever. Don’t ever think that,” you said softly, your voice steady but full of the weight of everything you felt. Your hands found their way to his face, cupping his cheeks gently, guiding his gaze to meet yours. You could see the self-doubt in his eyes, the fear that had taken root there, and it made your heart ache.

He opened his mouth to protest, but you pressed your forehead against his, a silent plea for him to hear you, to understand. “You’ve given me so much in this life, Spencer,” you continued, your voice barely above a whisper, but every word carried the depth of your emotions. “So much that I never thought I deserved, but you showed me that I do. You showed me that I’m worthy of love, of happiness. That I’m worthy of you.”

You could feel the weight of your words sink in as Spencer’s breath caught, his eyes flickering with a mixture of disbelief and gratitude. It wasn’t just the love you had for him—it was everything he had done for you, everything he had helped you realize about yourself.

You gently pulled one of your hands away from his face, your fingers trembling slightly as you reached for his hand, placing it over your chest, just above your heart. “This…” you said, your voice catching in your throat as you pressed his hand against the steady rhythm of your heartbeat. “This is because of you. Every beat, every breath—it’s because of the love you’ve given me. You make me feel alive in a way I never thought was possible.”

Spencer’s eyes softened, his gaze dropping to where his hand rested against your chest. The quiet intensity of the moment wrapped around both of you, and you could feel the weight of everything he was carrying—the fear, the guilt, the love—and you wanted to lift it off him, even if only for a moment.

You leaned in slowly, your lips brushing against his forehead in a soft, lingering kiss, a silent promise that you were there, that you always would be. Then, pulling back just enough to look him in the eyes, you whispered, “Spencer, you don’t ever need to worry about failing me. You’re everything I’ve ever needed. And I’ll never let you forget that.”

Spencer’s eyes fluttered closed, and without thinking, he leaned in to kiss you, his lips gentle against yours, a kiss that spoke of gratitude and love, a kiss that grounded you both in the present moment. When he pulled back, you couldn’t help but smile, brushing your thumb lightly over his cheek.

“I love you,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. And before you could respond, you kissed him again, this time deeper, letting the weight of everything you had just shared hang in the air between you like a promise, unspoken but undeniable.

thank you for reading!

please like & reblog if you enjoyed!

masterlist!

taglist! @pleasantwitchgarden