kisses4reid

[kisses4reid]

could you write something about Aaron inspired by "Guilty As Sin?" by Taylor Swift, please<3

hi anon!! sorry to get back to u late but unfortunately i don’t listen to taylor so i feel like i wouldn’t be the best writer for this request <3 thank u for the req anyhow 🥰

[kisses4reid]

reqs for hotch pls, i’m procrastinating a painting for ATAR art which is totally smart of me and not gonna ruin everything in a week.

angst, fluff, sick/comfort, whatever

[kisses4reid]

love language | ·˚ ༘ spencer reid ,,

r x spencer, injuries, fluff, very short

a/n: i warned yall id be posting less. sorry babes. my future kinda depends on me being an academic weapon rn.

Spencer takes a breath and smiles to himself, anticipating your reaction to his less than perfect face. You’ll start talking about your day, then as you lock eyes, your face will drop- or maybe you’ll be stunned into silence. You’ll be worried, no doubt. You always are, even when he reassures you. Spencer winced at the smile.

You unloaded the dishwasher when you heard the door open, you smiled and yelled out, “Hi honey!”

He didn’t yell back, instead heading straight towards your voice - he needed your comfort.

“You hungry? I bought- Oh my god!” You dropped a plate on the ground that thankfully didn’t chatter, but did make Spencer jump. He watched you bring your arms up to your mouth in shock, before walking towards you slowly.

“I’m fine-“

“What happened to your face?!” Your eyes traced hit features with concern painting your own, his lip busted and eyebrow cut. You hovered your hands over his small injuries and he swore he could already feel your healing aura warm his insides.

“Took down a criminal really casually-“

You slapped his shoulder, “Don’t joke right now. Come on,” you grabbed his wrist and pulled him towards the main bathroom.

His shoulders were pushed down by your firm hands as he sat on top of the toilet lid. You shook your head as you pulled out bandaids and cotton swabs, which made him smile at you longingly. Before you, he didn’t know what it meant to be cared for, but now it had become his favourite thing. The only downside being your mood most of the time.

You faced him with stern eyes, mentally reprimanding him. You brought a cotton ball to his lip to wipe off any residue and dipped a cotton bud in an anti-swelling medicine which made Spencer scrunch his eyebrows together. You were silent in your focus, and beautiful.

“I love you.” Spencer whispered. Your eyes glided over his eyes and lips, yearning to connect his with yours. But alas, he had gotten himself punched.

“I worry about you.”

‘I love you too,’ Spencer was sure it translated into.

“I know. I’m sorry.” He replied softly, genuinely.

You shook your head and carefully put a plaster over his eyebrow. “I know you are, but nothing can change that. Unfortunately, I think my new love language is worrying.” You smile slightly, and lean back to assess his face again. “I love you too, Spence. Go have a shower,” you lent forward and placed a soft kiss on his uninjured nose, “I need to cut your hair soon, it almost hides your eyebrow cut.”

He stood, “Do I look tougher? Like a badass?”

You giggled and walked towards the bathroom door, taking hold of the handle, “You look like you’ve tripped over your own shoes a few too many times. Shower, stinky.”

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[kisses4reid]

open up for once | ·˚ ༘ spencer reid ,,

synopsis - reader is used to doing things alone, working hard, never asking for help. the team gets worried when the behavior never changes, and few coincidences sets you off.

genre - angst w/ happy-ish ending, bau!reader x spencer,

warnings - crying, r hides emotions, works to hard, doesn’t ask for help. r has a tough childhood.

w/c - its short dw like barely 1k

a/n - sorry for my absence, graduating at the end of this year. i will write when i can!! thank u ❤️

Your eyes latched onto the man’s hands. Two files in his grip were angled towards Spencer.

“Here’s the basic case file. There’s boxes of evidence in interrogation room three, and more files can be found on our online system.” The man spoke to Spencer confidently and smiled, grabbing your attention. “If you need any help, give me a holler.” The peppered man grinned at Spencer like they had an inside joke, but Spencer didn’t react. He simply nodded, and started walking with you to the evidence filled room. A nerve ran down your spine.

“You okay?” Spencer glanced at you sideways and opened an oak door, revealing a room filled with boxes on boxes of labeled evidence. You shoulders sagged at the sight,

“Yeah, just tired.” You picked up the closest box and took it to the only free space on the table in the middle of the dim room. Spencer watched you from behind, eyes roaming your sage green blouse and the wrinkles that adjusted in your movements. He looked away.

You rolled your shoulders, thumbing through the files until you found one labeled with a victims surname. You leant on the desk and faced Spencer, ready to read out anything that stood out to you. But, something itched your brain.

“Do you want me to look at it?” He asked, moving towards you with one hand outstretched.

You clutched the file, the paper bending under your grasp. Seeing Spencer’s wider eyes, you cleared your throat and smiled, “No, it’s all good.”

You turned slightly, and ran a finger down the words in search for any connections. And for a minute you were focused, until Spencer took a file from the same box as you. You followed his hands with your sharp eyes and nearly rolled your eyes.

This was not like you, you did not roll your eyes. You don’t get angry, you didn’t get annoyed. Especially not at Spencer.

Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath and plastered on a smile, “Sorry, Spencer. I need to go get some air.”

What was it? Was it Hotch sending Spencer to help you? Was it the officer assuming Spencer was in charge? Was it Spencer choosing to help you when there were plenty of other boxes that could be sorted?

You didn’t need help, you never did. All throughout school you hated group projects, you never asked teachers for clarification, never asked your parents for help with homework. Not that they would.

You walked through the halls, the very sound of your heels agitating you even more. You had never felt a wave of rage wash over you like you had then, you thought the saying was a lie.

Spencer watched you from the doorway, getting the hint that you needed space, but he couldn’t stop himself from speculating. The tension, the nerves, the fact that you had been on edge since last week. Well, come to think of it, when have you ever not been on edge? Spencer sighed, ran a hand down his face, and against his better judgement, followed you.

He found you 8 minutes later, slightly impressed by your distance travelled in such a short time, on a balcony looking down on the streets of New York City. Another murderer in the concrete jungle where dreams were made of. ‘Concrete jungle wet dream tomato’, as you liked to insist it was. You had your back to the door, arms wrapped around yourself in the chill, and your ponytail flew in the breeze. You looked ethereal to Spencer, like always. Something about your slightly red nose and the way you glanced back at him made you look even better.

You looked away nearly immediately, shutting your eyes closed and taking a deep breath. You didn’t expect to be out there alone for long, but 8 minutes?

“You okay?” Spencer asked, but you stayed silent. He met you on the edge of the balcony, his hands in his pockets and shoulder so close to yours it felt almost magnetic. You didn’t meet his gaze.

The fact that he had to ask, meant that you weren’t okay. It also meant that you had failed at concealing your emotions. He cleared his throat and followed your gaze down onto the busy streets.

“Did you know that over 800 languages are spoken in New York City? It’s the most linguistically diverse city in the world” He clenched his jaw, not exactly used to talking to someone he’s so used to hearing. You nodded.

He sighs.

And you both stand there for a bit.

Before the sun starts to set, and you finally speak up.

“Do you think I’m bad at my job?”

“What?”

“Do you think that, compared to the others in our team, I’m the least valuable. Or needed?” You finally looked up at him now, trying to read his reaction of you opening up - you barely have any conversations that could gain such a response.

“No not at all.”

“Then why do you, and the team, and everyone else, treat me like I’m less than?”

You faced him fully now, which he returned in extreme confusion. It seemed to come out of nowhere. His mouth was agape, but he had no answer.

“You were partnered with me because Hotch doesn’t trust me, the officer gave you the files because he thinks you’re more inclined to take charge, you started going through files I had already started going through.” Your voice raised slightly, arms flailing at your sides. You were so unfamiliar with this, opening up. So much so, that when you started, you couldn’t stop, “My parents never let me make decisions by myself, I was constantly ridiculed for asking for help, I’m constantly compared to others, and just when I thought I had found people that believed in me, everything switches!”

“I have never asked for help, I have never given the team my work, I’ve stayed behind every day to finish my work and I have never, ever, complained about working. So why?” Your voice started cracking, tears lining your lashes, “Why doesn’t anybody believe in me? Why am I so underestimated? I have proven to everyone, for my entire life, that I am capable. I don’t need help, I don’t need support. I- I- am fine- doing everything, everything!- by myself. So why now, does everyone seem to doubt me? What have I done, Spencer? Why don’t you trust me?” You took a deep breath and widened your eyes when you realise how close you had gotten to Spencer, how loud you had gotten, how many tears had fallen, and how much you had just revealed to a man you wanted to protect from your flaws the most.

Your chest rises and falls at a rapid pace as you take a few steps back, gripping one hand on the concrete railing. “Sorry, I… I haven’t been getting sleep lately. Sorry.”

Spencer’s quiet, lets you breathe, the fact that you haven’t run away is already a good sign. He searches your face for any more reason, and starts.

“We don’t underestimate you, especially not me.”

You raise your head.

“We aren’t… doubting you. Hotch has been worried about you.”

Your eyebrows furrow, “Me?” Spencer’s heart nearly crumbles at your surprise that someone would be thinking about you.

“Yes. Like you said, you leave work late, you never ask for help, you’re the most closed off in the team. At first, we thought you were just nervous about being in a new team but it’s been… nearly two years.” He looks you up and down, “You haven’t opened up one bit. At least not to him… only, me. That’s why he partnered me with you, not because he doubted your intelligence or capabilities. He doubted your stability.”

Spencer watched your hair drag behind you as you avoided his eyes once again, pinning your attention on the street below. Your cheeks shone slightly from the unwiped tears.

“I chose to go through the same box as you because I wanted to stay close to you.” He admitted.

You blink, a wave of sadness, anger, and somewhat relief rolling over you. You took a deep breath. “I don’t know how to… open up. Opening up is weak- was weak. Crying, complaining, asking for help… everything was weak.” You met his eyes again and you swore he sighed from relief, “I’m sorry for crying, and yelling. I’m sorry for wasting your time. But…”

You closed your eyes, fighting your instincts and learnt avoidance.

“I’m not sorry, for telling you. You’re probably the best person this could’ve happened with. Thank you.”

Spencer nodded, and smiled slightly. He reached out, pushed a strand of loose hair behind your ear.

“That’s what I’m here for. Always.”

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[kisses4reid]

guess who’s writing a fic! would you believe a fic writer?

need to know little things that make yall feel underestimated. whether that be jobs given to other ppl, ppl taking over small tasks - anything like that.

yes this is a tiny spoiler, who gives a rats ass.

[kisses4reid]

collage | ·˚ ༘ spencer reid ,,

crying?? moving in w spence and realising how happy u are

another short one <3 not proof read, literally written in 10 minutes and then posted.

You’re sat still, staring blankly at the pale blue walls that you had only painted last week. There were hooks in place for photos of you and Spencer, views you loved on your holidays together, other cool photos you both found at thrift stores. A collage of who you two are, and your love, and your life.

You sighed, a panging in your chest pushing a weight down in your stomach as waves rolled under your rib cage.

You hadn’t checked the clock on the opposite wall, or your phone, for you don’t know how long. Before you knew it, you were still staring at the blank wall when Spencer came home.

“Y/n?” He called out, not used to the absence of your warmth or voice. A tear rolled down your cheek.

“I’m in the bedroom.”

The bedroom, not his, not yours.

You heard footsteps behind you and smelt a waft of his favourite cologne fill the room. He didn’t speak for a moment, setting his work bag down on the bed behind you and shrugging off his jacket.

You breathed, and stared at the blank pale blue wall.

“Are you okay?”

His figure appeared in your periphery.

Spencer’s heart picked up as he saw your low shoulders and solemn gaze. It was as if you were lost in a trance, and your bare but pending collage wall seemed to be the subject of your burning gaze. He swallowed a lump in his throat.

“Are you regretting… the wall?”

It was a bigger question than that. Spencer was worried that something as small as hanging up photos had made you change your mind about moving in together. About going this far this fast, about being with him at all. Your silence only made it worse.

He sat beside you, the bed dipping which caused your shoulder to brush with his. The contact sort of snapped you out of whatever cloud was looming over your head, and you turned to face Spencer.

Spencer.

Nothing else, just Spencer.

“I’m not regretting the wall. Or moving in, or being with you,” you smiled slightly when his eyes widened, “I’m not regretting anything. Well, I regret not doing this earlier.”

He sighs and cocks his head slightly, “Then why do you seem so… sad?”

“I’m happy, not sad. I’m happy that I found you, finally.” You placed your hand on his thigh. “I never thought… I never thought I would love someone so much, enough to move in with them. I especially never thought that I would end up with someone as great as you, Spence.”

Spencer smiled, the corner of his lips only wobbling slightly.

“I’m happy that this collage wall won’t have to stay the same, that we can… put new pictures in each frame as our life goes on. I’m happy that something as simple as a wall and some frames can make me feel so happy that it brings me to tears.”

You smiled at him and he nodded his head silently. You could hardly contain your pride, but you tried. You laid your head on his shoulder and you sat still, staring lovingly at the pale blue walls that you had only painted last week.

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[kisses4reid]

hot | ·˚ ༘ spencer reid ,,

sickness, comfort, spencer panicking slightly, ‘i love you’

just a short one to get me out of a slump, it’s cutesy, classic sick comfort fic. v short.

“Honey, you know how many germs I have right now, you really don’t have to be here.” You batted your eyelashes up at him from your deteriorating state on the couch.

Spencer ignored the nickname, or simply didn’t register it in his worry, “The longer you’re sick the more time the virus has to reproduce and evade your dying immune system. I have to learn to deal with it in order for you to get better.” Spencer spieled, pacing in front of you while wringing his hands.

“Spence, I can take care of myself.” You pleaded, more concerned about his comfort than yours.

“But I want to take care of you. I just have to pretend like you’re not sick when you really are. Badly sick. I don’t like it.”

“You don’t like pretending?” Head tilted, you tightened the blanket around your shoulders.

“I don’t like you being sick. I can deal with germs. I investigate dead bodies most of the time, I’ll be fine. You won’t be.”

You smiled, “Wow. Way to kill my immune system’s confidence.”

“Sorry, I’m trying to pep talk you and myself.” He stopped pacing and looked directly at you, regarding your figure with much concern.

“I know. You’re doing well. I already feel better.” You nodded to encourage him. Things like this was new to him, caring for someone he knew would reciprocate, so you didn’t want him to become insecure about it.

“That’s impossible. You’re still,” he places his hand on your forehead and you sniffle, “burning up.”

“Are you saying I’m hot?”

“Temperature wise, yes. And if you’re trying to insinuate me finding you attractive than yes, that too. I just don’t like the word ‘hot’ to describe you.”

“Why?” Your voice is audibly snotty, it makes you cringe.

“Because you’re not a temperature, you’re a beautiful woman. Who is sick, and needs honey tea.” He places a finger on his lips in thought and nods at his own idea.

“Spence?”

His eyes dart up at the sudden use of his name, “Yeah?”

“I love you.”

His anxious motions halted and his ears reddened, he looked down with a tiny smile that hurt your heart with cuteness aggression. You sneezed very loudly, your leg jerking along with it.

“I love you too. Now, I’m making you tea and some noodles. You sit there and look beautiful.”

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[kisses4reid]

scare | ·˚ ༘ spencer reid ,, (part 4)

synopsis - you’re in a relationship with some one else and have a pregnancy scare, both your own reaction and spencer’s makes you realise that you’re not happy.

part synopsis - you return to work, and a sudden revelation changes everything.

genre - bau!reader x spencer, friends to lovers, r was with someone else, douchebag bf trope, pregnancy scare, angst & fluff, comfort, reader is female with female anatomy and feminine

warnings - pregnancy is the main theme, blood, menstrual cycle, crying, inaccuracies because i have never been pregnant/ever thought i could be pregnant, uneducated reference to abortion: 'stick something up there',

w/c - 2.1k

a/n - last part. im sorry for the long wait and the subpar writing, i lost motiviation for this series and wasnt as into the story as i was before. BUT! i kept going for you guys. thank you <3 if anyone catches my hamilton reference youre my best friend

You hadn’t shown up to work for the week, taking the precious sick leave you had been hoarding and spending it all on arguing and throwing things into cardboard boxes. Not your stuff, but Lloyd's. And Spencer had spent those days pulling at his hair, tapping his fingers on his desk, and watching the automatic glass doors of the bullpen open just to find somebody else.

To everyone else’s knowledge, you simply had a bad stomach bug, but to Spencer it was much more. His stress was just a ticking time bomb waiting to detonate if one more person asks him how you were. Because he didn’t know. Not only were you physically absent from Spencer’s life, but virtually as well. No texts, calls, online likes or tags. It made him think the of the worst possibilities.

That’s where he was now, sat at his desk, finger tapping, leg bouncing, eyes darting from glass doors to blank phone, before he grabbed his phone and started to Hotchner’s office. His steps echoed in the early morning office sepace, patting his sweaty hands down his pants. But he didn’t make it very far before he heard Garcia’s familiar squeal, and your own genuine giggle.

Six days had been the longest you went without seeing Spencer, let alone your entire group, since you got the job. But you couldn’t put such a burden on these people, especially not the one who had seen you break down in his own apartment. To you, this was something you needed to figure out slowly and alone. Alone. Thank god, you were single now.

“I’m glad you’re feeling better, just a flu?” Garcia asked, slipping one of her arms into yours and walking you to your desk.

“Stomach bug.” You smiled, patting her hand and sitting down at your desk. You looked at all of your trinkets and photos, happy to see that you never actually put a couple photo on your desk, and happy to see a photo of your team all together instead.

Spencer spun on his heel and widened his eyes, a breath escaping him in relief.

“Y/n.”

You looked up and stared at the man, the bags under his eyes deepened and the creases between his brows appearing like scars.

“Spence, hey.” You smiled as Garcia took his hurried steps as her queue to leave.

“How are you-“

“He’s gone. Sorry you cut you off.” Your hands started fidgeting, you looked askance. Spencer’s eyes betrayed him in his shock, thankfully his lips didn’t betray him in his happiness.

“Oh. That’s great.” Spencer nodded and had to shake the sudden urge to grab your hands and squeeze them. He could feel the possibilities in his fingertips by the second, but he couldn’t lose sight of the bigger issue here. “Are you gonna work a case with us? Are you feeling… better?” He asked with full care in his warm brown eyes.

“Yeah, I’m better. I mean, I’m not great yet but I’m better. Still thinking about things.”

He nodded, but before he could ask anything more, the rest of the team emerged from the elevators.

“Eden Lim, missing for 9 hours after her mother left the front door open to let in fresh air. Power outage in the neighbourhood took out all the air conditionings. Neighbours are either elderly couples or other families.” JJ handed out manila folders and picked up the remote to the Tv screen, showing a photo of a sweet little girl with her mother in a slightly professional set up. Aaron nodded and started, “Wheels up in thirty, JJ organise a meeting with their sheriff and investigators.”

On the plane, you were surprised to say the least. You found out you were pregnant by a sudden sickness, and now, you felt fine. Even though you didn’t get plane sick often, you expected at least a little nausea or maybe a headache. But honestly? You felt fine. Maybe you were a superwoman, one of the rare lucky mothers that don’t get sick often.

That’s what starts to distract you, the thought of the future. You didn’t know anything about pregnancy, let alone parenting. The last time you babysat was for Emily’s cat. Your hands started sweating and you bit the inside of your lip to attempt a suppression of nerves, but you obviously weren’t slick enough.

Hotch sends a glance your way, “You okay, Y/n?”

You smile softly, “Yeah, just the plane is kinda waking up my stomach.”

He nodded, seemingly accepting of that answer, and you gave yourself a mental fist bump.

You try to refocus on the case, but another factor is making this specific one harder.

Eden.

The top name on your baby name list since you were 16, the one you sort of planned to use without much second thought. The one who belongs to a missing child.

A young man who had just lost his son stole Eden, took her to his house, and treated her well. He was a father who had suffered loss, and took from someone else in the same way so that he wasn’t alone in his feelings.

Something about that felt slightly relatable. If Lloyd knew how you were feeling, maybe he would understand the weight on your shoulders.

You walked with Spencer to your desk, the aura around you both feeling like it was going back to normal, just with another layer on top. The secret kept between you two, a bigger one than any of the others. You flicked your small, dark green scarf over your shoulder, the difference in temperature from the case hitting you harder than usual.

Spencer slipped his satchel over his shoulder and sent you a smile. You felt a spin in your stomach because of the sight, and looked down to hide your face discreetly. You heard a small clear of the throat and then Spencer’s voice,

“Hey, can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Every time the victims name was mentioned, you sniffled, you rubbed your arm, or took a harder breath. Why is that?”

You widened your eyes, nearly laughing at the question. You had no idea Spencer was paying that much attention to you. Honestly, you thought he was going out of his way to avoid you to lower the chances of the team getting suspicious.

“Oh, it’s just uh. Eden has been on my baby name list since I was a teenager.”

Spencer’s shoulders tensed slightly, and his mouth opened as he nodded. His heart broke a little more. And he realised this was the first time you two were having a conversation since the night you stayed at his apartment. Not only was it making it real for you, it was making it real for him. Although, he had already vowed to himself that he would help you out with anything you needed, he doubted his mental capacity to take care of a baby made from the women he loves and a man he despises.

You both started walking to the elevator, always the last two in the office before Hotch, and you subconsciously stayed close to him. A pang hit your lower stomach that you pushed down.

“How are you doing, physically and mentally?” Spencer pushed the button with the down arrow, and looked down at you. His hair was slightly ruffled, his tie askew, but his eyes were how they always were when they looked at you, full. Full of care, of adoration, of worry, of knowing. Full of… something that could ruin both of you if he made the wrong decisions.

You took a breath and had to tear your gaze off of his, “Well, like I said, I broke up with Lloyd. He didn’t want to be a father, and when I told him I didn’t know what to do with the… baby, he said… he said… he told me to ‘stick something up there’ if I couldn’t afford another way.”

Spencer felt a rush of rage wash over him, his cheeks reddening and his hands fidgeting harder by the second. How could he?

“Basically, the opposite of how you reacted,” you laughed but it didn’t last long.

“Y/n… why haven’t you told me about him before? I didn’t even know you had been talking to guys until you were already dating one of them. If you told me about him I could’ve… I don’t know.”

“Open my eyes?” You smile sadly, and nod. “If I told you about him, and about how he acted… it was kind of like complaining about a sapling to an oak tree. Complaining about a page to a library. Complaining about a dickhead to…” You shook your head, “I felt embarrassed. And, I want you to think highly of me. But I guess after all of this, I can’t really help it anymore.”

Spencer stopped you in front of the elevator and took your hands, he looked at you with concern, and a bit of anger.

“Y/n I don’t hate you, or think any lesser of you just because you’re… pregnant, or because you were with a bad guy. I think that, while it’s true I think Lloyd is a terrible guy and I don’t see a lot of logic in staying with him, it was your own decision. I’ll always respect that.” He glanced down to his hand holding yours and let go of it.

Your eyes widened, panic shot across your face.

“Y/n?” The elevator doors opened.

“I need to go to the bathroom.” You turned and ran to the toilet, hearing Spencer’s steps behind yours a moment later. He called your name, asked you if you felt sick, and it made him feel guilty for making you stress in a time like this.

He hadn’t fully processed that you weren’t just his best friend, his love, but his pregnant best friend.

You pushed on the ladies bathroom door hard and darted for a toilet stall. There is no way I’m peeing my pants in front of Spencer Reid.

You closed the stall, and soon heard Spencer enter the bathroom with no hesitation to the fact it was a women’s room. “Do you need to hold your hair up?”

And even though the offer played with your heart, you quickly denied him, “No, Spencer, I’m not sick. I just needed to…”

You wiped, and suddenly you felt dizzy. Red.

Red?

“Blood…” you whispered to yourself. "Oh my... god."

“Blood!? Y/n, should you go to the hospital?” He stood closer to the door as his heart rate picked up.

You stood up, pulled up your pants and opened the door. Spencer nearly fell into you.

You screwed your eyebrows together in confusion, and all at once a million feelings hit you. Hatred, sadness, depression, heart break, hope, denial, acceptance… relief. You looked down, unable to look at Spencer as your heart quickened, and covered your mouth with your shaking hand.

“Spencer, I’m on my period.”

His big eyes searched yours, looking down and over your face and body and it was like watching him piece a puzzle together. “You’re not…”

You shook your head, and a wave of relief hit you all at once, tears hitting you like a tsunami, your arms wrapping around Spencer’s shoulders like unforgiving ropes. He stilled for a moment, before reciprocating the tight embrace, a breath of air leaving him in the contact. He squeezed his eyes shut and gripping at your work shirt causing wrinkles to appear between his fingers. His large palm warmed your back in soothing strokes before they laid tightly around your ribcage. Honestly, hugging you was a big thing he had been thinking about in your absense - they were always genuine.

You let go and smiled at Spencer widely, the first one you gave him genuinely in too long a time. Spencer placed a hand on your cheek and wiped a tear gently, smiling back at you.

“Oh, Spencer, I’m so… sorry.”

He stopped in his tracks and widened his eyes, “Why?”

“I made you worry for so long-“

“Hey, a false positive is not your fault. You had a less than 1 percent chance of getting one so it’s no wonder it didn’t cross your mind. My mind, as well.” His heart swelled as you two looked into each others eyes. Happy, relieved, suddenly aware of how close you two were to each other.

Spencer dropped his hand, and looked down with a cough. “I’m happy for you, Y/n.”

You nodded with a shy smile, and turned to look back at the toilet, “Well, I’m gonna… you know… take care of this and then… do you wanna get a drink? I need to... I need somewhere that's not my apartment to think about this.”

He blushed slightly, realising where he was, and picked up his satchel, “Yes, of course. Do you want to go to mine? We can pick up drinks on the way?”

"That would be amazing, thank you Spence." "Anything for you."

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[kisses4reid]

posting the last part tomorrow. it’s not very good, as i lost all inspiration and passion to finish it properly. kinda just wanna get it out of the way 😅 thank you for ur patience.

[kisses4reid]

y’all i promise im writing the last part of Scare, im just in my post christmas slump, and im also taking more shifts and then immediately regretting it. 😝

[kisses4reid]

can y’all give me names you wished was yours as a kid, or just names you love. masc & fem! want to use for the current spencer series and a hotch series i want to write 💕🐺🔥🔥

[kisses4reid]

scare | ·˚ ༘ spencer reid ,, (part 3)

synopsis - you’re in a relationship with some one else and have a pregnancy scare, both your own reaction and spencer’s makes you realise that you’re not happy.

part synopsis - you’re not happy. spencer’s not happy. this is not a good time for anyone + how spencer tries to help.

genre - bau!reader x spencer, friends to lovers, r is with someone else, douchebag bf trope, pregnancy scare, angst & fluff, comfort, reader is female with female anatomy and feminine

warnings - pregnancy, swearing, meltdowns, pregnancy scares, douchebag bf

w/c - take a guess honey it’s SHORT

a/n - third part. sorry for another cliff hanger babes it’s my favourite thing to do!!! are you mad??? well IM mad. at LLOYD. this part and the planning for the next one i got way too into the script and i got heated asf i can’t believe lloyd is doing this!!! guys someone stop me. anyways i could talk forever i hope u like this part and sorry it’s sorta rushed maybe some mistakes okay pia stfu and let them read

also this was heavily inspired by a comment from @upuntil6am. i did change some parts but thank you !!

There you were: sat on Spencer Reid’s toilet lid, leg bouncing up and down as your best friend carefully placed a pregnancy test screen down on on his bathroom counter.

He glanced at himself in the mirror, trying to decide if he looked as stressed and, honestly, as depressed as he felt. His best friend of four years, his crush, his love, the only one he thinks about at night, might be pregnant with another man’s child. Not just any other man.

A man who thinks she’s crazy, loud, annoying, uneducated, irresponsible… Lloyd.

You gulped and ran your hands through your now messy ponytail, the hair band basically useless as strands of hair covered your anxious face.

Those things that Spencer knew about your boyfriend didn’t come from you, it came from his own tendencies to go invisible and subconsciously eavesdrop on the girls in the BAU.

Prentiss and Garcia walked into the bullpen one morning complaining about a man.

“He’s so demanding, and ugh! I can’t even begin to describe him he’s just so-“

Spencer’s ears perked. why would two respectable women associate themselves with a man who was obviously beneath them?

“I can’t believe Y/n’s still with him.”

Spencer spun in his office chair, eyes wide and eyebrows furrowed, “Y/n’s dating someone?”

Emily turned slowly on her boot heel and bared her teeth in a cringe. “Spencer, when did you get here?”

“I’ve been here.”

That’s when he started learning about Lloyd. You excused his behaviour, excused his actions, excused his decisions. You let him move in, walk all over you, walk away.

And yet you stayed.

Why?

Spencer knew, from countless drunken spiels about life and the meaning of love, that you felt as if it wasn’t made for you. Coming from a tough and strict family, and growing up somewhat bullied and shunned, he understood you better than others. Maybe that’s why you confessed to him that, ‘Love isn’t in the stars for me. And I guess… I guess I’m going to have to learn to be okay with that. I’ll have to settle for something that isn’t true.’

But oh, how he wanted to prove you wrong.

Spencer looked at your bent body, your head in your hands and your breath rapid.

“Y/n-“

“What am I going to do? If I’m… pregnant. What am I going to do?” It was a rhetorical question, Spencer knew that. He learnt about how to recognise them with your help.

You groaned and felt tears approach your eyelashes once again. You were sick of it.

“Why did I do this to myself? Why did I stay with him, why did I start staying with him? Why did I go on that stupid date, why- what am I- what was I thinking?”

The bathroom light flickered slightly.

It was silent for most of the waiting. Spencer gave you his watch so you could watch the hands move across the face. The seconds were slow, you swore the entire watch just stopped for at least 10 seconds.

“Do you wanna look?” Spencer said, almost in a whisper (he had been counting in his head). He was just as nervous as you were, nearly as heartbroken. You nodded, but didn’t lift your head nor your body.

“Yeah… yes. Um.” God, you couldn’t move a muscle. You were being a coward, afraid of your own consequences. “Could you…just tell me?”

Spencer took a breath in shock, biting his lower lip and nodding, even though you couldn’t see it. His eyes zeroed into the white and pink stick a few inches away from his hand, his heart echoing in his rib cage to create a bass in his skull.

His grabbed it between his pointer and thumb, and gulped before turning it over.

Pregnant.

His heart sank, his stomach churned, his eyes darted to you, now looking at him and nothing but him.

Spencer glanced between you and the word.

“It’s positive.”

It was like a switch. You put you face in your hands a sobbed, cried, yelped, until Spencer crouched down and enveloped you in the tightest hug he could muster.

You sobbed into his shoulder and gripped at his back, leaving spit and tears stains until you couldn’t cry anymore. Your eyes were puffy, your throat sore, your mouth tight.

Your stomach was still churning, and you were still dizzy, and you were pregnant.

Spencer grabbed your shoulders and looked at you, his own tears threatening to spill.

“Y/n, hey, it’s going to be okay-“

“What the fuck am I going to do!? How the fuck is it going to be okay? Spencer, oh my god,” you covered your mouth with your hand and dipped your head in another fit of sobs, “Why did this happen, how am I going to- I don’t know how to- I don’t want to have a baby with that man. How could I do this? This is all my fault, Spencer, what am I going to do-“

Spencer placed a purple mug of hot chocolate in front of you on a knitted coaster you gifted him a few months ago. It steamed, and you watched the lines dissipate upwards until your eyes focused on Spencer. He didn’t wear a smile, he didn’t wear a frown. He was neutral. He didn’t feel it.

You faked a smile at him and tightened the blanket around your shoulders, bringing the mug up to your nose and smelling in the sugary goodness. The sweet feeling lasted less than a millisecond.

“It’s still hot.” Spencer mumbled, sitting next to you and grabbing his own blanket, placing the remote control on your thigh.

You followed his actions and wondered when the last time you got to control the TV was. Actually… it was right here, last month.

“I’ll have to tell Lloyd.” You whispered, and sipped. Spencer clenched his jaw and nodded slowly, already nervous for you about how that was going to go - based on the phone call he had with him only half an hour before.

You bit your lip and furrowed your eyebrows. How were you going to tell him? It wouldn’t be as easy as telling Spencer, it was riskier, heavier. It was… scary. You were scared of him.

“Oh god… I’m going to have to… break up with Lloyd.”

Spencer raised his eyebrows slightly, “Um.”

“He cannot be a father. At least not to my child.”

At least you were aware of that. You should’ve been a long time ago. Spencer nodded and took another sip of his drink. The remote trembled in your grip, you turned on the TV and searched for you and Spencer’s movie: Pride and Prejudice (2005 version of course). To be honest, it was only ‘your’ movie because you played it every chance you got. At first, Spencer was reluctant, but he learnt to love it. He learnt to love a lot of things you loved. And you smiled slightly at the thought of it.

In the back of Spencer’s mind, in the depths of his stomach, in his tip toes, he could admit that he had thought about this situation before. Except you were both happy and ecstatic, and you weren’t with an unloving man.

He looked at the screen and darted his eyes to you when he realised you hadn’t pressed play yet. You were distant, thinking, and then speaking.

“I have to do it now, or I never will. This isn’t like, a fight- or just a miscommunication thing, this is… big.”

Spencer nodded, and you huffed.

“Spencer, can you say something? Please.”

His heart broke when you pleaded with him, and nothing about him inside or out could deny you. But what could he say? I’m terrified for you, I’m terrified for me, I’m afraid I’ll never get the chance to love you how I do, I’m scared you’ll never love me back.

Your head was racing, pounding, and he was there silent. Your best friend who taught you more than any teacher has, who comforts you, who knows you, who lets you crash at his place, who makes your heart flutter and your cheeks redden even when you try to compress it, is silent.

Spencer gulped, eyes avoidant of yours.

“I don’t know what to say.”

You look away. Of course he doesn’t. Who does? But Spencer continues,

“I know you don’t want this. I know you’re not happy. And usually I know what to say, and what to do,” he motions at the hot chocolate and the still of Keira Knightley on the TV, “but I don’t. I wish I did, for you. And for me. I’m sorry.”

Spencer had seen you frustrated enough times to understand that you weren’t angry at him, you just didn’t know where to put your anger.

Your throat tightened a bit and you nodded shortly, sighing and running one last hand through your hair. You grabbed your phone and whispered to him as you got up, “Don’t start the movie without me.”

part 4.

taglist - @jeffswh0re @reap3erslov3 @candyd1es @0108s22m @aurorsworld @theoraekenslover @c-losur3 @littlelearningbrat @khxna @laurakirsten0502 @cultish-corner @yokaimoon @flow33didontsmoke @kitsunetori @yasmin12312 @softestqueeen @adoresami @hazza3000 @lov3-audz @issy25 @pleasantwitchgarden @pacmil @olives-and-sunshine @reidswifeyyyyyy

extra note: yall pls check that your tag permissions bc some of yall i don’t even have the option to tag. i’m rlly sorry i wish i could. if anyone knows if this is a glitch or if i can fix it on my end pls let me know bc i feel bad 😭

[kisses4reid]

writing the third part of scare and why am i kinda eating like i’ve said i’ve become unmotivated in the authors note but damn maybe i’m kinda maybe a little good at this writing thing.

anyways had a dream aaron hotchner was my professor last night haven’t been well since might make a fic abt it, thank you brain.

[kisses4reid]

yall is she pregnant or not. i’m struggling to decide.

scare | ·˚ ༘ spencer reid ,, (part 2)

general synopsis - you’re in a relationship with some one else and have a pregnancy scare, both your own reaction and spencer’s makes you realise that you’re not happy.

part synopsis - you take pregnancy tests at spencer’s apartment, because his will always feel safer than your boyfriend’s.

genre - bau!reader x spencer, friends to lovers, r is with someone else, douchebag bf trope, pregnancy scare, angst & fluff, comfort, reader is female with female anatomy and feminine

warnings - pregnancy, douchebag boyfriend, mentions of anxiety and sickness, swear words

w/c - >300 probably very short

a/n - how many parts will this have 🔮🔮🪄🪄 answer unknown. sorry it’s so short i wanted to get this out before i totally lost all motivation.

PART 1 HERE

Spencer turned on the seat warmers as soon as he turned on the car, but not too hot - you mentioned a year ago how easily you got warm. He looked over at you before putting the car into reverse, a million thoughts racing through his mind.

He could feel your tension in the air, you were mainly quiet, you sniffled once, you tightened your ponytail. It was a coping mechanism, if you could control the state of your hair, you could control the state of your body.

Leaving the grocery store parking lot, Spencer cleared his throat and started doing what he did best: talking.

“Did you know that your brain is constantly eating itself? It’s a form of phagocytosis, but it actually isn’t harmful. What’s more harmful is laughing, many people have actually died from laughing because it can cause loss of oxygen and heart attacks.”

You simply looked at him, eyes slightly wider than before as your cheeks threatened to raise in a smile.

“Thank you, but that just kind of made me more stressed,” you looked back onto the road, “Tell me more about fruits.”

“You can never get too much sugar from fruits, the water contents of the fruit slows down your digestion and makes you feel full. Plums, pears, peaches, and apples are all a part of the rose family. Tomatoes have more genes than we do.”

He glanced over to you, to see if you were still listening, which of course you were. You would never interrupt him, you would never stop listening, you would never stop Spencer.

He continued, quieter this time, “You don’t like tomatoes.”

“No, I don’t.”

Spencer opened the door for you and shoved his keys in his pockets, his scent surrounding you as you entered the familiar apartment. It was cozy and cluttered. Stacks of books and papers created tables for lamps and the odd pot plant, the wooden floors creaked in some places and the carpet under the couch had one stain from where you spilt wine that one time.

It smelt clean, and like Spencer. You smiled to yourself, and put your handbag on a side table, looking around what you considered your second home (after your childhood house).

“I always liked your apartment better than mine.”

Spencer swerved around you and placed the grocery bag on the kitchen counter, turning on the warm ceiling light. “Why’s that?”

He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion as he glanced around his apartment - it didn’t seem all that spectacular to him.

You shrugged, sitting on a stool on the other side of the counter, “I don’t know, I guess it just… feels safe.”

So your apartment doesn’t? Spencer bit his tongue, not wanting to bring you any more stress than you were already suppressing.

The tests were still in the bag and they brought your attention like a moth to a light. You stood and joined him on the kitchen side, grabbing a glass (the one with strawberries on it) and filling it with water. Spencer looked at you concerned as you chugged the water in two gulps.

“I gotta pee some how.”

He nodded and clenched his jaw, “You can change into some of my clothes if you want.”

You thanked him, filled the cup back up and took it into his bedroom, starting your search for comfortable clothes that could maybe ease your tension.

He glanced at his bedroom door anxiously. Spencer was glad that you weren’t feeling as nervous, but he knew it wouldn’t last for much longer. Especially when your phone suddenly rings on the kitchen counter with ‘Lloyd’ on the screen.

“Uh, Y/n? Lloyd’s calling.”

Your shoulders hiked as you smoothed out one of his purple sweaters over your hips. An audible gulp echoed in your ears, and you yelled back through the door, “You can answer it.”

"Hello?" Spencer nearly whispered. "Where are you- Spencer?" "Uh, yeah. Hi." "Is Y/n at your apartment? Why is she at your apartment?" Lloyd’s voice raised. Spencer glanced into his bedroom, the door closed, the sounds of your shuffling around filling the otherwise silent space. "Yeah, she's at my apartment-" "God, she always at your's, isn't she? Tell her to go home, I need to talk to her. She's going crazy. Says she's pregnant, it's insane." He furrowed his eyebrows and pinched the bridge of his nose, a wave of rage rushing over him. "She feels sick, and she's thought about it. She looks pretty stressed." "When does she not look stressed?" Lloyd hung up, leaving Spencer speechless and shocked. If this is what he says and acts like all the time, no wonder you're acting like you are. When she's with me. She's not stressed, when she's with me.

You emerged from his bedroom and Spencer’s eyes latched onto his purple sweater and some of his sweatpants covering your nervous body.

His heart palpitated.

“What did he want?” You took the last sip of your second cup of water and looked at the pregnancy tests on the counter.

“Just wondering where you were.”

You nearly laughed, as if.

“Okay well, I’m gonna go… pee on some sticks.” You sighed and grabbed the boxes, Spencer clenching his jaw and nodding.

“Do you want me to stay here? Or come with you?” He asked softly, treating you like a delicate feather. You looked into his warm and caring eyes and smiled shortly.

“Sure. Just close your eyes and ears when I pee.”

taglist - @jeffswh0re @reap3erslov3 @candyd1es @0108s22m @aurorsworld @theoraekenslover @c-losur3 @littlelearningbrat @khxna @laurakirsten0502 @cultish-corner @yokaimoon @flow33didontsmoke @kitsunetori @yasmin12312 @softestqueeen @adoresami @hazza3000 @lov3-audz @issy25 @reidswifeyyyyyy

[kisses4reid]

scare | ·˚ ༘ spencer reid ,, (part 2)

general synopsis - you’re in a relationship with some one else and have a pregnancy scare, both your own reaction and spencer’s makes you realise that you’re not happy.

part synopsis - you take pregnancy tests at spencer’s apartment, because his will always feel safer than your boyfriend’s.

genre - bau!reader x spencer, friends to lovers, r is with someone else, douchebag bf trope, pregnancy scare, angst & fluff, comfort, reader is female with female anatomy and feminine

warnings - pregnancy, douchebag boyfriend, mentions of anxiety and sickness, swear words

w/c - >300 probably very short

a/n - how many parts will this have 🔮🔮🪄🪄 answer unknown. sorry it’s so short i wanted to get this out before i totally lost all motivation.

PART 1 HERE

Spencer turned on the seat warmers as soon as he turned on the car, but not too hot - you mentioned a year ago how easily you got warm. He looked over at you before putting the car into reverse, a million thoughts racing through his mind.

He could feel your tension in the air, you were mainly quiet, you sniffled once, you tightened your ponytail. It was a coping mechanism, if you could control the state of your hair, you could control the state of your body.

Leaving the grocery store parking lot, Spencer cleared his throat and started doing what he did best: talking.

“Did you know that your brain is constantly eating itself? It’s a form of phagocytosis, but it actually isn’t harmful. What’s more harmful is laughing, many people have actually died from laughing because it can cause loss of oxygen and heart attacks.”

You simply looked at him, eyes slightly wider than before as your cheeks threatened to raise in a smile.

“Thank you, but that just kind of made me more stressed,” you looked back onto the road, “Tell me more about fruits.”

“You can never get too much sugar from fruits, the water contents of the fruit slows down your digestion and makes you feel full. Plums, pears, peaches, and apples are all a part of the rose family. Tomatoes have more genes than we do.”

He glanced over to you, to see if you were still listening, which of course you were. You would never interrupt him, you would never stop listening, you would never stop Spencer.

He continued, quieter this time, “You don’t like tomatoes.”

“No, I don’t.”

Spencer opened the door for you and shoved his keys in his pockets, his scent surrounding you as you entered the familiar apartment. It was cozy and cluttered. Stacks of books and papers created tables for lamps and the odd pot plant, the wooden floors creaked in some places and the carpet under the couch had one stain from where you spilt wine that one time.

It smelt clean, and like Spencer. You smiled to yourself, and put your handbag on a side table, looking around what you considered your second home (after your childhood house).

“I always liked your apartment better than mine.”

Spencer swerved around you and placed the grocery bag on the kitchen counter, turning on the warm ceiling light. “Why’s that?”

He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion as he glanced around his apartment - it didn’t seem all that spectacular to him.

You shrugged, sitting on a stool on the other side of the counter, “I don’t know, I guess it just… feels safe.”

So your apartment doesn’t? Spencer bit his tongue, not wanting to bring you any more stress than you were already suppressing.

The tests were still in the bag and they brought your attention like a moth to a light. You stood and joined him on the kitchen side, grabbing a glass (the one with strawberries on it) and filling it with water. Spencer looked at you concerned as you chugged the water in two gulps.

“I gotta pee some how.”

He nodded and clenched his jaw, “You can change into some of my clothes if you want.”

You thanked him, filled the cup back up and took it into his bedroom, starting your search for comfortable clothes that could maybe ease your tension.

He glanced at his bedroom door anxiously. Spencer was glad that you weren’t feeling as nervous, but he knew it wouldn’t last for much longer. Especially when your phone suddenly rings on the kitchen counter with ‘Lloyd’ on the screen.

“Uh, Y/n? Lloyd’s calling.”

Your shoulders hiked as you smoothed out one of his purple sweaters over your hips. An audible gulp echoed in your ears, and you yelled back through the door, “You can answer it.”

"Hello?" Spencer nearly whispered. "Where are you- Spencer?" "Uh, yeah. Hi." "Is Y/n at your apartment? Why is she at your apartment?" Lloyd’s voice raised. Spencer glanced into his bedroom, the door closed, the sounds of your shuffling around filling the otherwise silent space. "Yeah, she's at my apartment-" "God, she always at your's, isn't she? Tell her to go home, I need to talk to her. She's going crazy. Says she's pregnant, it's insane." He furrowed his eyebrows and pinched the bridge of his nose, a wave of rage rushing over him. "She feels sick, and she's thought about it. She looks pretty stressed." "When does she not look stressed?" Lloyd hung up, leaving Spencer speechless and shocked. If this is what he says and acts like all the time, no wonder you're acting like you are. When she's with me. She's not stressed, when she's with me.

You emerged from his bedroom and Spencer’s eyes latched onto his purple sweater and some of his sweatpants covering your nervous body.

His heart palpitated.

“What did he want?” You took the last sip of your second cup of water and looked at the pregnancy tests on the counter.

“Just wondering where you were.”

You nearly laughed, as if.

“Okay well, I’m gonna go… pee on some sticks.” You sighed and grabbed the boxes, Spencer clenching his jaw and nodding.

“Do you want me to stay here? Or come with you?” He asked softly, treating you like a delicate feather. You looked into his warm and caring eyes and smiled shortly.

“Sure. Just close your eyes and ears when I pee.”

taglist - @jeffswh0re @reap3erslov3 @candyd1es @0108s22m @aurorsworld @theoraekenslover @c-losur3 @littlelearningbrat @khxna @laurakirsten0502 @cultish-corner @yokaimoon @flow33didontsmoke @kitsunetori @yasmin12312 @softestqueeen @adoresami @hazza3000 @lov3-audz @issy25 @reidswifeyyyyyy

[kisses4reid]

scare | ·˚ ༘ spencer reid ,, (part 1)

synopsis - you’re in a relationship with some one else and have a pregnancy scare, both your own reaction and spencer’s makes you realise that you’re not happy.

genre - bau!reader x spencer, friends to lovers, multi-part, pregnancy scare, reader has sort of a douche bf, one sided love (at first), angst and fluff

warnings - pregnancy talk, mentions of sex, unhealthy relationships, stress, sickness

w/c - 1.4k?? take a guess cause that’s mine.

a/n - i’ve got 9 weeks free. yeah, i have a job. and yeah, i have about 6 other hobbies i enjoy. but am i gonna make promises i can’t keep about writing more?? yeah. i am. here, enjoy. (pls lemme know abt mistakes it’s rlly late at night rn.)

The plane whirrs, small chatter from Morgan and who you assumed to be Penelope over the phone humming along with the music you try to distract yourself with. It isn’t working.

Because every song has its own special and quirky musical instrument that happens to sound like a message notification. And you keep getting your hopes up.

Your left leg started to bounce, your fingernails found their way to your anxious teeth. And Spencer noticed.

He noticed about halfway through the case, when you stopped talking as much, started drinking an influx of water, started discreetly taking pain medication. At first, he thought it was a simple stomach bug, and he knew your stomach didn’t agree with a lot of travel. But then you started getting nervous.

Spencer glanced at you a few times before moving, sitting next to you (attempting to be discreet). He can’t be discreet though, because every time he’s around you, his body does this weird thing where it can’t decide whether it should be instantly calm or instantly more nervous. Your presence stopped his fidgeting hands, his tired thoughts. But god, when he looked at you, it’s like his heart wants to see you for itself.

And right now his heart hurt, why were you scared?

You barely noticed Spencer sit down, usually you would, but your phone was annoyingly blank, silent. You turned it off and on three times, and re-entered the plane’s wifi password five times.

And now your stomach was grumbling, and not in the way that those nice small sandwiches can help out with.

“Are you okay?”

You jumped, taking your earphones out and staring at Spencer surprised. You laughed nervously, quietly, “Spencer! Sorry. Yeah, I’m fine.”

His warm eyes searched yours and for a second you could ignore the tight feeling in your chest. It made you think back around 8 months ago, when Penelope, your childhood best friend and now co-worker, created a pros and cons list for both Lloyd, and… Spencer.

It was unprofessional and inappropriate, especially when you decided to listen because you had nothing better to do. And especially when she started making some good points.

He squinted his eyes, and you sighed.

“Sorry, I’m just a bit antsy. Feeling a bit… off.”

You felt sick, and stressed, and like your thoughts were going to be the cause of your death. Because you’ve never been sick like this. And to your overworked brain, it only meant one thing.

Spencer’s a great profiler. And although the team collectively agreed to not profile each other, it becomes hard for Spencer when the girl he’s in love with is so obviously in distress. Even worse when he can’t be the hero.

“I can leave you to sleep if you want.” He says, getting up to leave.

“Oh, no. That’s okay. Honestly, I think sleeping would just make it worse.”

Ah, right. Travel sickness, Spencer thought. He gaps his mouth slightly and nods. He relaxes into the couch and looks over to you, heart picking up slightly as pieces of hair fell from your loose ponytail.

You looked over to the table he was previously sat at, the book you gifted him last Christmas open and nearly finished. You smiled to yourself, but it was bittersweet.

“You’re actually reading it?” You asked, looking back at him with slight surprise.

“Of course. I’ve read it 6 times already, it’s a great pallet cleanser- Just like you said in that Christmas card!” He smiled childishly, like he was recalling the first snow.

“I know right! It’s so simple but interesting, I mean I’ve only read it three times but to me I always found it to clear my head.”

Spencer angled himself towards you, “Did you know that the author actually interviewed his daughter’s teachers to see what ages teachers were more invested in compared to class sizes? He said in an interview that depending on a students intelligence, there’s an underlying emotional connection made between student and teacher,” he took a breath, “It plays into the intelligence to ego ratio that so many people claim isn’t true. Which I’m not trying to say you have a big ego, or that I do-“

You waved you hands, “Woah, woah. Why would I think you’re talking about me?”

He furrowed his eyebrows, “Well, you’re very intelligent.”

“Oh!… Thanks for thinking I’m intelligent, or smart.” You shrugged, “But I think you insulted yourself. You don’t have a 187 IQ for nothing do you?”

“You remembered my IQ?” He laughed nervously. His smile warms your chest like a candle. Like that candle he got you randomly in April, after you mentioned your favourite one being used up by your boyfriend.

Your boyfriend. Ugh.

You smile falters for only a second, “Of course. You only mention it to every person that second guesses you.”

He nods and smiles, “Must be my ego.”

You laugh, subconsciously bumping your shoulder with his. But- Jesus. Your stomach is queasy.

“Hey, uh, do you want some travel sickness pills?” He reached over for his satchel but you grab his forearm and smile as convincingly as you can.

“No, no. We’re landing soon, but thank you.”

You’re overreacting.

That’s what he said. When you texted your boyfriend of a year and a half that you thought you were pregnant he said, You’re overreacting. Two words, two hours after your first text, on his day off.

Maybe you are. You started feeling sick on a slightly more gory case, it’s lasted ever since the case started, you get travel sick as well.

The headaches are from the computer screen and stress. The stress is from fatigue. The fatigue is because of the lack of sleep. The lack of sleep is because of the headaches.

Why do you always do this? Always thinking that there’s something wrong with you. Always being the biggest person in your own life, selfish.

But… what if?

There’s a sudden squeak from behind you, and you instantly snapped out of it. You took a deep breath and looked at your surroundings. You were at your desk, standing, the strap of your bag clutched in your hands - god, your knuckles were white. Your eyes darted in surprise and confusion, and you jumped once again when Spencer spoke into the silence.

“You okay?”

“Um…”

You didn’t look back at him, only looking down at your shoes and taking a deep breath. You plastered on a smile despite the bile collecting in your throat.

“Yeah! Yeah, I’m fine. I’ve gonna go, the bus leaves at um…”

You took out your phone. He didn’t even respond to your text asking him to pick you up.

“I’ll drive you home. But uh, I gotta pick up some groceries. I hope you don’t mind.”

He curved to your desk and gently took your bag from your hands, glancing at the way you traced your knuckles and how the leather strap now had slight wrinkles in it. He smiled, warmly. And he started walking like you rejecting the idea wasn’t an option.

Which is wasn’t, because he knew you too well.

“Well, a cucumber actually has 3% more water than watermelon. So if you really want a refreshing snack, cucumber is your man.”

You smiled and raised your eyebrows in interest. He’s had many vegetables and fruits in the basket, not a lot of protein. Explained a lot.

My man, you thought with a smile.

My man, you shivered.

“I don’t like cucumbers.” You said like it was distraction, and he nodded, picking up some kewpie mayo as he you around to the next aisle. He glanced at you,

“I know. You say it’s tasteless. I like it.” He shrugged.

“I know.” You smiled, and he smiles back.

God, you wish you could bask in it, the warmth. But your chest was still tingly, and your heart hadn’t stopped aching ever since you got excited about an email notification.

“Hey, are you sure you’re okay? I noticed you’ve been tense for like… a week.” He grabbed some pasta sauce and put his hand on your shoulder to turn you around - you obviously looked too far into your own head.

“Yeah, just feeling-“

“Y/n.” He turned to you, stopping your venture into the dairy aisle. His eyes were hard, worried. The fluorescent lights swayed slightly. A worker walked by the end of the aisle with a trolley full of food.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t,” he lifted one arm, wanting to rest his hand on your upper arm, to help you, “Don’t say sorry. Just tell me what’s going on.”

“I have been feeling sick. That’s true. And I’ve been stressed and, thinking a lot. A lot.”

It felt weird to nearly tell Spencer about your relationship problems. It was like complaining to a doctor about healing crystals. It was like a slap in the face. Maybe that’s why you never did tell him about it, because it was facing your fears.

It was the pros and cons list made by Penelope.

But I’m overreacting.

“It’s nothing.”

Spencer sighed. You had that habit, of nearly opening up, and then shutting the door just as he was about to walk in.

You heard his sigh.

“Okay. I gave Lloyd my car because he has the day off, and he likes going to his friends houses on his days off. And, I told him something that should probably freak him out. But he doesn’t really care. I don’t think he really cares, about anything. At least about me.”

You started walking, because holy shit you’ve never said that out loud before, and Spencer followed you,

“Y/n, if you want to tell me something-“

“I think I’m pregnant.” You stopped, and started picking at your fingers, acting as if it was admitting to not knowing your left and rights, or that you don’t really like coconut.

His eyes widen, and his heart drops. It was like his worst nightmare coming true- jesus, how could he even think about himself right now? The girl he loved felt trapped with a man she thought might be the father of her baby.

Spencer gulped, “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.”

You looked at each other, scared, you more than him. And then you cringed,

“God, I’m sorry Spencer. I shouldn’t have said anything-“

“No- Y/n, it’s fine. I’m glad you told me-“

“I haven’t even, like, taken a test yet-“

“Wait so-”

You spun on your heel and looked at him exasperated.

“So… let’s go get some tests.” He said (he hopes) calmly. He was really trying, to pretend to be calm and collected. That’s what you needed, a clear head to replace yours.

He paid for everything, even the 5 pregnancy tests and the over sized lollipop you put in the basket to ease your nerves later on.

The moon was high, you were about three hours late to get home now, and your head was attacking itself with rambles and aches and honestly, you were sick of it.

You shivered, huddling in your jacket and drawing only slightly closer to Spencer. His silence was like a hook, drawing you in closer and higher and taking every word you had been thinking that day to the tip of your tongue.

You looked up to him. His hair fell into his eyes, the breeze reddening his cheeks slightly.

It’s Spencer. You’ve known him for nearly 6 years, but it feels like you’ve known each other for ever. You know everything about him, and he knows everything about you. Well, not everything. He doesn’t know how you feel in your own apartment, how every anniversary had been forgotten even when it was the ‘1 year’ mark, how you felt like you were raising an over grown child who could drink.

He knows you’re strong, but admitting all that? I’d look weak.

You have looked weak in front of Spencer. He stayed overnight in your hospital room, he held you when you watched a little girl die, he wiped your tears when you watched a sad short film during your break.

You couldn’t hide anything from him.

“I don’t think I’m pregnant- Well, I mean I might be, but there’s a very low chance,” You started, Spencer’s jaw clenched for a millisecond, “I’ve just been feeling sick and… it could be because of stress from work, or just general stress- like, I don’t know.”

Spencer moved the grocery bag to his other hand.

“Kids are great, don’t get me wrong. Some people don’t get the chance to have kids. I mean…” You gulped, and Spencer finally looked down at you. But now, all you could do was stare at the car park’s concrete floor. Speaking out loud was like clearing your brain, the fog was lifting. “Lloyd doesn’t want kids. I do, at least in the future, not right now. I just hope it’s not with-“ You cut yourself off, and slow down a bit. Spencer matches your pace.

I just hope it’s not with him.

He gulps, and clears his throat, looking down at you with understanding eyes, “With everything that’s going on.”

“Yeah… yeah. You know, my job, my…” It’s no use lying to Spencer. He knows. He’s known, for a long time.

Your chest was tight, and you made eye contact with the pregnancy tests lying on top of Spencer’s groceries. The thought of going home, rushing to the bathroom, avoiding your boyfriend who was already waiting angry, made your throat close up. Because only now, when you were three hours late from work and ignoring his one attempt at a phone call, Lloyd texted, ‘I think you need to calm down.’ It was a bare minimum, and finally Spencer could see you realizing it.

No, ‘Wre you okay?’, ‘What’s making you think this?’ ‘Where are you?’

No. He was making you out to be the crazy one, the one to be over thinking, over bearing, too much.

You were confused. To put it blankly. And scared. And questioning your life decisions. And honestly you just wanted to curl up in a ball and to have Spencer make you bad cucumber salad at his warm apartment.

You looked up to Spencer but he was already looking down at you, reaching for his keys and nodding, “You can come to mine, it’ll be okay.”

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[kisses4reid]

guys what the top ten douchebag male names, y/n is unfortunately going to have a bad bf again.