#matthew gray gubler x you

Lunar New Year (Chinese New Year) Is a week away, and this is a small imagine I came up with to bring in the festive season 

- “Have you been practicing your greetings?” “Yes, I have to say  Xīnnián kuàilè, shēntǐ jiànkāng to your grandmother, right?” 

- He is immediately more loved by grandma than you. And would be overfed by grandma too. 

- “What kind of doctor are you?” “Oh, I’m not that kind of doctor.”

- He would win all sorts of games played - Black Jack, Poker you name it. (Which also makes your relatives annoyed with his card counting)

-Chopsticks are still his mortal enemy and you will not stop teasing him about it

- Nosy uncles and aunties will bombard him with questions like “When will you two marry?” “When will you have children?”

- Receiving red packets (ang pao) and you have to tell him to open them when you guys return home.

- Younger cousins / nieces and nephews are awestrucked by his magic skills and would pester him the whole time.

- He would refused to touch the lion dance lion, “ Do you know how much germs there is on that?”

- When no one is looking, grandma slip him an extra ang pao 

- Family photos are chaotic

Bonus (I almost forgot)

- Matching Samfu and Cheongsam dress code (Let’s be real, he would look totally handsome wearing a samfu)

Synopsis: For seven months Y/N, the newest team member of the BAU, has been missing, kidnapped by an unsub they were hunting. But when the search comes to an end, Spencer doesn’t know how to feel.

Sort of an AU!/ slight crossover with Bones

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader

Genre: angst, fluff in the end

Warnings: mentions of kidnappings, torture, wounds, blood, stabbings, hospitals, minimal swearing (minimal proofreading), mentions of drug abuse/addiction

Wordcount: 5071

Seven months. For more than half a year, Y/N has been missing, and even still, Spencer blamed himself. How could he not? It was his dumb decision that’d led to her being captured by an unsub. It was his words or rather gestures of splitting up which’d led them to the situation at hand – one of BAU’s best agents and the woman he’d been in love with ever since they’d met MIA for seven months five days eight hours and thirty-nine minutes.

He remembered it so clearly; even if he didn’t have an eidetic memory, Spencer was convinced, he’d never be able to forget a single detail about when Y/N had entered his life.

It was her laugh he’d heard first, as she entered through the glass door, head thrown back, while another FBI agent walked alongside her. Spencer recognized him. Seely Booth. He was one of the most decorated agents in the whole bureau, but he worked on homicide cases with Dr Temperance Brennan from the Jeffersonian, not at the BAU, their paths hadn’t crossed even once.

The woman beside him, placed a hand on his bicep, a wide smile on her face, while Agent Booth placed one on the small of her back and gently lead her up the stairs and into Hotch’s office.

A presence sidled up to him.

“Any interesting observations you’d like to share, Dr Reid?” Emily asked, wiggling her brows. “Or do you just normally gape at women who walk inside the office like that?”

“Wha - I’m not gaping,” Spencer sputtered, which made Emily snort and point at him.

“Yeah, tell that to the flies in your mouth.”

He threw her a scornful gaze, but shut his mouth nevertheless, eyes flitting to where Hotch opened his door and greeted both agents with a handshake and small smile, which already said loads. Hotch never smiled.

“She’s transferring from the homicide department to here.” Emily sipped on her coffee.

JJ leaned forward, her shadow towering over his shoulder. “Not to be a gossip, but I read her file. She’s like Superwoman or something. Highest closed case rate in the bureau with Booth, youngest woman to ever make it into the FBI, and most confessions during the first set of interrogation.”

And that’s when it clicked – she was the Y/N Y/L/N. He’d read all about her, I mean, how could he not have? He’d just never looked up her picture for whatever reason, but Spencer was kind of happy he hadn’t, his reaction was bad enough. Had he previously known she’d look like someone he’d see in one of those high-end fashion magazines, he probably would’ve had a stroke. 

He almost did when he noticed, her frame hovering by where the team had gathered around his desk, Penelope having arrived as well to talk to Derek, but both of their attentions were on the newest member of the team.

“What brings you to the BAU?” Emily sat down on the edge of Derek’s desk sipping on the last dregs of her coffee.

She shrugged. “I just needed a bit of a change. This one serial killer we caught took a few of my friends hostage before, but for the longest of times we couldn’t figure out the reasoning or who it was. Made me interested in the psychological part of it all, so when I heard there was an opening in the BAU, I asked if I could be transferred to the unit. And here I am.”

“Well, my gorgeous new friend,” Penelope touched Y/N’s bicep. “You’re gonna get a feel of how things go.” She looked at her iPad and motioned with her head to the conference room. “We’ve got a case.”

Instantly everyone was on their feet, Y/N taking two steps at a time on the stairs to meet Rossi who gave her a huge hug as if they’d known one another for ages.

“How’s the book coming along? Brennan left her computer open, and I snuck a peek.” She nudged the older man’s shoulder. “It’s pretty good from what I’ve read.”

Rossi let out a chuckle. “You are trouble.”

“No,” she smirked. “I’d just like to receive a signed copy before everyone else. How come Brennan did, and I didn’t?”

Rossi raised a brow. “Because we reviewed each other’s books?”

Y/N crossed her arms. “Well, I am offended. I thought I was your favorite.”

He raised his hands as if in defeat. “Fine, fine. I’ll talk to the publisher.”

“Thank you.” She said in unaltered satisfaction. “Bookshelf is running low on space, but I can’t have my Rossi collection incomplete.”

They were almost by the doors when Spencer finally gathered up the courage and cleared his throat, Y/E/C eyes boring into his.

“I’m Spencer.” He gave her a shy smile, to which Y/N responded with a bright “nice to meet you” and slowed her steps to match his pace instead of Rossi’s. She didn’t reach out to him, rather let him set the pace. Instantly, he liked her. “Did you know on average a person has 12 different jobs and that’s only in the span of 32 years?”

Y/N sighed, looking at him dreamily as she took a seat next to him around the table. “It’s like I never left them.”

Spencer blushed under her gaze, but his brows furrowed. “Never left who?”
“The squints from the Jeffersonian. You’re exactly like them. It’s like I’m home already.” She rested her hand on her palm. “You even have the same lexicon. It’s amazing.”

Emily poked Spencer’s cheek, which made him swat at her fingers. “I always thought they made them so lifelike.”

“Trust me,” Y/N snorted wiping open the tablet and looking over the pictures of the case. “This one time we got exposed to some chemical in the lab during Christmas and we couldn’t leave and I insisted on watching how they got their blood drawn because I didn’t believe they weren’t synthetic or something.”

That was the first of many cases they had together. If Spencer had known three years down the line, he’d be responsible for her kidnapping, he wasn’t sure he would’ve allowed his heart to fall in love with her.

***

She’s always hated running. Hated it with a passion. The only reason Y/N ever went to Derek’s drills was because, without them, she’d never in a million years pass her physical. As a child, her motto about running had been – if you see me running, you should start too because something’s chasing me, as there was no real reason of planet earth anyone would do this to themselves for pleasure. 

But now her bare feet are slapping against the road with quick thuds, her legs numb from the exertion and movements more mechanical at that point than anything else. Y/N’s lungs are burning, begging for her to pull in a proper breath filled with oxygen, but there is no time, no matter if her right side is screaming in pain. It just blended in with the rest of it.

As her heartbeat echoed in her ears, it rhythmically reminded her she couldn’t stop. Not then. Not when it wasn’t safe yet. For the first month she hoped her team would find her, they always had a strategy, but as days trickled by, she knew it’d be up to her.

Y/N didn’t blame them. The unsub was smart. He constantly moved around, but not so rapidly it’d cause suspicion. She didn’t blame anyone but herself really for being blindsided like that. But if there was one advantage, no matter how horrible, it was that he was in it for the long run. He’d kept his victims sometimes up to two years, so all she had to do was play along and hopefully get away before he lost interest in her.

When they’d gone to raid the suspected place of captivity, there was still the question as to why he’d do that. Why risk it? Now Y/N knew by heart. Every time her face came on screen, her team pleading for any sort of information, he’d make her watch the press release where JJ stood by the microphone, barely contained sorrow in her voice. As long as her team, as long as the people who loved the victims had hope, he’d keep them alive. He fed on their pain, knowing he had all the power to end the suffering. 

But once the media attention died down, once fewer and fewer posters appeared around the area, and then when finally, the case was deemed cold he’d get rid of them. And as the FBI had only released two calls for help to find her in the past month, Y/N her time was dwindling. Despite her being a federal agent and no doubt giving him the biggest ego boost he’d had in ages, she had to make her escape then and there if she didn’t want her picture next to the other deceased women. If anything, she owed them to escape and get that asshole behind bars for the rest of his life.

The unsub had a routine he rarely stepped away from, and in that routine, there was an hour gap where he’d go to the grocery store every Thursday evening from seven till eight, locking her in the pantry he’d transformed in a cell. 

That night, when she’d heard the door click closed Y/N took out two paper clips she’d hidden under her tongue and picked the lock. It wasn’t her quickest work by any means, hands trembling as seconds slipped through her fingers, but then the door was open. There was still the matter of the bindings around her hands and feet, but she rushed for the kitchen where she grabbed the sharpest knife possible and sliced through them like they were nothing. She even cut her wrist in the process but the adrenaline coursing through her veins masked the pain.

The outside doors were locked, and Y/N didn’t want to risk losing more time, so she unlatched the window at the furthest corner of the house so it took him longer to notice she was gone, not caring about the strands of hair that fell off the sill – his method to see if anyone’s come or gone – and then she just ran. 

Turning left Y/N ran along the edge of the woods but didn’t dare move closer to the highway yet. She’d listened to how the wheels of his car would turn which way, and took the same route, just out of the line of sight. It might seem stupid to run towards the direction where her captor was, but it meant that the town was closer, help was closer. And now, she at least had a knife with her. 

Every time car lights flashed in the distance, Y/N dropped to the ground, waiting until they were out of the line of sight before sprinting again. Her feet were raw, pine needles, branches, twigs, thorns and everything in between tearing her skin apart, but she couldn’t stop now. Not when in the near distance, maybe four miles away she saw the clustered lights of a town.

Those last miles felt like a blur as she stammered her way through alleys and along desolated pavements so there was less of a chance of being noticed by the unsub if he was still in town. Probably not. He was most likely already back at the house, either frantically packing to leave everything behind, or raging about her escape as he devised whether he should search for her or for a new victim. 

As Y/N dragged her ragged body along an abandoned warehouse, the illuminated box of a telephone booth came in view. A strangled sob of relief escaped her as she stumbled to it and clutched onto the received, trembling fingers pressing 911.

Two beeps echoed in her ears before a voice crackled to life. “911 what’s your emergency?”

“Agent Y/L/N,” Y/N wheezed out, clutching her side. “Badge number 627436 of the FBI Behavior Analysis Unit.” It was getting harder and harder to speak and when she looked down, she saw she was bleeding, more and more blood pouring out from the wound. It was a souvenir the unsub gave her a couple of weeks prior for ‘disobedience’, but he’d stitched her up afterwards. Her running must’ve ripped the stitches. “I was held captive by an unknown assailant, but I have managed to get away. I’ve been stabbed.” It was scary how easy it was to say those words like it wasn’t a potentially life-changing thing. “Please send help to this payphone. Please.” The last bit was a whimper as she slumped against the pole. “Please help.”

***

Garcia, dressed in her usual bright garb was holding an octopus mug in one hand, a stack of files in the other, as she went to Spencer’s desk and plopped then unceremoniously onto it.

He lifted his head up from where he’d rested it in his palm, eyes staring at the wall. “What’s this?”

“This, dear genius of mine, is a stack of cases where you need to rewrite your reports.”

“What? Why?”

“Why?” Penelope matched his tone. “Uh because even my advanced technology cannot decipher those hieroglyphics, so unless you can plug in your brain to my computer like some alive version of Rosetta Stone, you’ll rewrite them. I need to properly scan them into the cloud.”

Spencer sighed, grumbling, “this is how paper is going to stop existing.”

“We’re just saving the trees, sweets. Saving the trees.” Penelope smiled at him, patting his shoulder. “Besides, you’ll need to come out of the dark ages at some point.”

“Thank you, but no,” Spencer muttered, opening the first file and seeing that Penelope might have a point, his scribbles eluding his own mind as to what was meant. “Give me an hour, and I’ll leave them on your desk.”

“Sure thing.” The word was one filled with empathy and sorrow. 

Spencer had gone through a lot. He’d lost his mentor, been an addict, had watched the woman he’d fallen for be killed right in front of his eyes, he’d even gone to prison for things he hadn’t done, but the guilt of being the responsible one, in his own mind, for the kidnapping of one of their teammates was eating at him like acid, slowly corroding his body and mind.

During the second month of her disappearance, it’d gotten so bad, he almost relapsed, finding a vial of Dilaudid and almost taking it, but Y/N’s firm yet gentle voice echoed in his mind. “We’re stronger than our demons, Spencer,” she’d whispered in his ear. They were on a case involving former addicts being killed by the substance they’d overcome, and it just hit too close to home. She’d heard him pace around his hotel room, their suites placed right next to him. When he opened the door, seeing Y/N there, he broke pretty much immediately.

“I’m scared I’m not.” He replied, head gently laying on her chest, listening to her steady heartbeat. 

Y/N shook her head and ran her hand through his tresses. “You are. The fact that you’re here talking about it proves it. But you don’t have to go through this alone. You never will as long as you don’t shut yourself out. We’re a family. We take care of our own.

It was Penelope gasping which made him look up at the woman and pushed him back into the current reality.

Derek stood from where he was sitting by his desk doing some paperwork, brows furrowed, a concerned hand going to Penelope’s shoulder. “What it is?”

“It - it’s - it’s - her,” she stammered out, ripping her eyes up to meet his brown ones, her gaze absolutely wild. “It’s Y/N. They got her. I – I put up software on all my phones and computers to notify me if anyone searches or uses information on Y/N. A police patrol in Texas just picked up a woman claiming to be her. They’re taking her to the hospital.”

“Are you sure?” their fellow agent threw Spencer a cautious glance, knowing what sort of thoughts must be racing through his head. “How do we know it’s not some crazy using her name to stir up some publicity?”

“Nuhu.” A smile was starting to appear on Penelope’s face, a hopeful tear-filled smile. “It’s her. She used her badge number to identify herself.”

When Hotch rushed out of his office phone to his ear, practically sprinting to Rossi’s office, Spencer knew he wasn’t hallucinating. It was real. She was finally found.

He thought he’d be the only jittery one as the team made their swift way to the plane, but even their usually stoic and collected chief of unit couldn’t properly sit still for more than five minutes at a time. Millions of questions were floating through their minds, but all Spencer could think about was if Y/N even wanted to see him after all of it.

Spencer knew he was being selfish, by turning this whole thing against him, but the genius couldn’t help himself. If he hadn’t made that decision to split up instead of having her back, Y/N wouldn’t have gotten in such a vulnerable situation where it was taken advantage of. For seven months his body was wracked by guilt, almost to the point of relapse, and now it was crashing down with the force of a mountain.

“Reid, I want you and Rossi to go to the station and interview any witnesses the police have got,” Hotch’s voice pulled him out of the pity party he was throwing himself. “Maybe someone saw something that could help us narrow down the search while she’s out of commission.”

“What? Why?” His brows furrowed. “I want to see Y/N.” How the hell could they ask something like that of him?

“And you will.” His boss promised. “But first I need you to be as collected as possible before going to her.”

Spencer was shocked. “How can you say that? How can you expect any of us to be collected after what’s happened?”

“We need to follow the protocol,” Hotch spoke, but Spencer wasn’t having any of it.

“No!” He stood up from his seat. “Why are we treating this as a normal case? It’s not! This is Y/N we’re talking about my – our Y/N,” he corrected himself, but was 100% sure the slip didn’t pass anyone by, “but you’re going to treat her like some regular case?”

“Spence,” JJ’s calm tone made him snap his gaze to her. “We’re not treating it like a usual thing. But she is a victim of this unsub. And we still need to find him. Don’t you think Y/N deserves that?”

“Of course, she does,” he whispered, sitting back down in his seat, all the fight he had in his body, leaving at JJ’s rational words.

Derek’s reassuring palm took hold of his shoulder. “Then let us interview her, so you don’t have to.”

He couldn’t argue with that. One of the worst things, when all his best friends were profilers, was that no matter how much he tried to hide his emotions, they could read him as easily as he read one of this many books. Spencer wouldn’t be able to act around her as if she was a survivor of a deranged unsub. He’d probably crumble when he’d see her, and that wouldn’t help anyone, let alone Y/N.

“Alright.” He nodded looking at Hotch. “Okay, yeah… you’re probably right. I just – I.”

Rossi put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it. “We know kid. We know.”

***

Y/N woke up confused and disorientated, the lights in the space dimmed with an annoying beeping invading her ears. The last thing she remembered was sirens wailing in the distance as they came closer and closer before black engulfed her.

She sort of wished, she could pass out again because the adrenaline had finally exited her system and boy, oh boy, was her body in pain. Not only did Y/N feel where the stitches had snapped open in her abdomen, but the rawness of her feet, the bruising all over her chest and thighs, not to mention the royal headache she sported. All in all, Y/N felt like a battered football, but she couldn’t fall asleep when her eyes befell on two familiar faces, she never thought she’d see again.

“I know that look,” she teased, glancing over at Hotch, who despite his usual stoic stature couldn’t contain the small smile. “That’s the look that says ‘you’re in for it.”

“You are,” he chuckled, a widely grinning Derek entering her hospital suite after him. 

“Big-time,” Derek chimed in, sitting down on the end of Y/N’s bed and placing a hand on her calf. “You made us miss you a lot. Should be terrified about the ‘welcome back’ party Penelope no doubt will be planning.”

If Y/N’s eyes didn’t hurt, she would’ve rolled them. “Well, I’d say that would be very much so against doctor’s orders. No strenuous activities, no alcohol,” that part she grumbled out. “Nothing that could cause heightened moments of stress.”

“Well, your chart,” Hotch sat down on the free chair by her bed. “Is longer than one of Rossi’s recipes.”

Y/N snorted. “Can’t wait for my psych eval.”

“All that can wait.” Hotch took her hand in his, and only then did it click for Y/N that he was really there. She was safe, two police officers stationed by the entrance to the door. Her team was there for her, and soon enough she’d be going home.

At that realization, tears threatened to take over, her breathing becoming a bit laboured and her heart rate spiked, while Derek whispered “it’s okay. Take your time,” to her.

“If you are up for it though,” Hotch started once Y/N had gotten a bit of a grip over her emotions. “We would like to ask some of the basic questions.”
She knew it probably would come to it, but it was hard mentally to wrap her mind around the fact she now was a victim. Y/N often wondered how the survivors of such occasions could answer their inquiries. It seemed ridiculous – they went through probably the biggest traumas of their lives, yet there they were – the BAU team asking them to go back to the scene where their lives were torn apart and talk about it as if it was the weather.

“Alright.” Y/N took in a settling breath and looked at Hotch. “Let’s do this.”
It wasn’t a long questioning, but it still took a lot of willpower to not break down in front of her two colleagues. She knew they’d never judge her, but it would take up a lot of precious time they could use to catch her captor, so with all of her strength Y/N powered through the questions she had asked hundreds of times before, but being on the responding end was tougher than she ever thought.

“Do you have a name?” Hotch finally ended the questioning and closed his notepad.

“No,” Y/N shook her head, a small thread of shame rippling through her body. “He was very careful. He never left any IDs around, there were no personal pictures or anything engraved in his jewellery or watch. I couldn’t get my hands on any receipts that would have a credit card, nor were there any prescription drugs or papers. But I can talk to a sketch artist.” She nodded. “I can definitely do that.”

“Okay.” Hotch smiled and gently squeezed her palm. “But not right now. You need to rest.”

Y/N was about to protest, but seeing the withering gazes both men were giving her, she shrunk back in her pillows with a pout, muttering a small, “yes, sir.”

Before they could disappear to the police station Y/N called out to Hotch. “Could you – I – if you see Spencer can you please tell him I’d like to see him?”

She wasn’t stupid. Throughout all of it, she knew the genius was probably beating himself up for what had happened. He had a knack for blaming himself for situations that were out of his hands, and she suspected everyone else probably had something to do with his absence at the side of her hospital bed. It was probably for the best, otherwise, she wouldn’t be consolable for quite a while. Not to say that Y/N didn’t care for the rest of the team, but she most certainly wasn’t harboring hidden love from them unlike she did for Spencer.

Hotch let out a small laugh. “I think if we try to keep him away any longer than we already have, he’ll break in here on his own.”

Y/N smiled and nodded, satisfied with that. In any case, if they did try to keep her away from Spencer, she’d break out of the hospital on her own. She’d just done it to an unsub. She could do it again to get to the one who held her heart.

***

The questioning at the police station were the two most nerve-wracking hours of Spencer’s life, and the second he saw Hotch and Derek walk in through the station’s door, he jumped up from his seat and sprinted out to the car. No one tried to even stop him.

Now though he watched her from afar like she was a mirage, terrified if he made one wrong move, she’d waver and vanish right before he got to the oasis. But as Spencer stepped inside her room, Y/N was still in the bed, steadily breathing as her eyes shot back and for the behind her lids, no doubt immersed in some dream. Spencer only hoped it wasn’t a nightmare.

“You know staring while someone is sleeping is creepy whether or not you’re a psychopath.” Y/N shifted in her bed and took in a large breath and opened her eyes to look at a hovering Spencer who shifted on his feet. The woman furrowed her brows giving him a critical look. “How long haven’t you slept?”

“Exaggerated terms? Seven months five days thirteen hours and twenty-three minutes,” he let out a choked back breath and sniffled. “Y/N, I’m so –,” but he didn’t get a chance to apologize when she shook her head.

“None of that. No.”

“But had I not said to split up –”

“Something along the same lines would’ve probably happened,” Y/N said, her tone leaving no room for argument. “It wasn’t your fault. It was no one’s fault but the unsub’s who you will catch, and then he’ll rot in a solitary cell never seeing the sun for the rest of his life, okay?”

She could see Spencer wanted to argue, wanted to apologize evident by the tears rimming his eyes, but he didn’t seem to have energy left, as he nodded, wiping his cheek with his palm. “Is there uh – anything I can get you? I think they still had some jello around if Morgan didn’t eat everything.”

Y/N snorted and shook her head. “No, I don’t need anything. Well, actually I do, but it’s not something you can bring, but rather something you can do.”

“Anything,” came Spencer’s immediate response.

She extended a hand towards him. “Lay with me. Please.”

“I shouldn’t.” Despite his response, his palm slid into Y/N’s, and nothing had ever felt that good. Calloused and covered in scabs, but warm and sure in his. “I looked over your medical and –”

“And you will have a lot worse if you don’t comply.” She raised her brow at him, not caring about the butterfly band-aid that covered a slash on her forehead. “Hey, I was the kidnapped one. You can’t say no to anything I demand.

“Are you – are you blackmailing me with your own kidnapping?”

“Yes, I am.”

The two stared at one another for a while, but it was a no-brainer Spencer would give in. He toed off his shoes neatly placing them under the chair next to her bed and removed his satchel and jacket from his shoulders, gently laying down in the freed space Y/N had given him. Instantly, her body curled against his, Spencer’s arms weaving around her waist, wary of her wounds, but grip tight.

Her frame against his was a pressing weight on his chest, but a good kind of pressing. The soft kind, gentle kind, reassuring kind – she was there, breathing, heart beating steadily and matching his own pace.

Spencer didn’t sleep that night after she quickly drifted off once in his embrace, too filled with anxiety and worries about Y/N vanishing. He’d always been afraid he’d get to a point where he’d forget his loved ones, and now he was terrified the woman soundly sleeping next to him was a hallucination. So, he kept vigil by her side, making sure nothing would disturb her.

And when she woke up in the morning, Y/E/C eyes staring into his, damned be all, he leaned down to kiss her. He almost lost the chance to ever do it. It didn’t hurt that she kissed him back with the same amount of vigor.

“Please don’t ever leave me,” he whispered, resting his forehead to Y/N’s.

“Spencer, I went through hell and back this past half-year.” She kissed him once more. “Not even that could keep me away. You’re stuck with me.”

But still, that fear rippled through him, gnawing at his edges. “For how long?”

Y/N nudged her nose against his. “For however long you want me to.”

“And.” He swallowed hard, a soft hand rising underneath her hospital gown to settle on the bare skin of her back. He needed to feel her. “And if I ask for your forever?”

“Then I’ll stay as long as my heart beats in my chest.”

“Okay.” He nodded, pecking her mouth. “Okay.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, that should do it.”

And then she laughed, allowing Spencer to finally hear one of his favorite sounds in the world after such a long time of absence. “Well, I hope so.”

He was just about to kiss her again when two high pitched squeals coming from JJ and Emily interrupted their moment. Spencer couldn’t even be mad at them, as he watched how Y/N practically lit up, finally being embraced by her family after such a long time away from them.

Yeah, he could deal with forever.

Tags:

Everything tags: @palaiasaurus64​@supernaturalbaesduh​@breezy1415​@thatawkwardlittlefangirl​@sea040561​@staryeyedgirl​@deathbyarabbit​@m-a-t-91​@maladaptive-ninja-returns​@averyrogers83​@in-the-end-im-still-trash​@gallifreyansass​@dewy-biitch​@avxgers​@unlikelygalaxygiver​@magicwithaknife​@ollyoxenfrees​@bnhvrdy​@tvwhoresblog​@thatkindofgurl​@sj-thefan​@lestersglitterglue​@im-squished​@strangersstranger​

A/N: I have been on such a criminal minds binge it’s insane. My baby Spencer deserves the world.

P.S. do not repost my works on other platforms (Wattpad etc). reblogs are appreciated :)