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#spencer reid fanfiction
reidcoffeemoon · 2 days
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Who the fuck he think he is to be this damn hot?
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luveline · 2 days
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if you are looking for spencer and bombshell requests, what about the first time a girl flirts with spencer after they start dating, but bombshell is fully secure because she knows her worth and understands that he’s a catch? if you need more ideas i can squeeze my brain really hard
love ur brain pls keep squeezing it <3 fem!reader
You’re the cheesy girlfriend no one expects you to be. You change your phone contact for Spencer to ‘My Sweet Boyfriend’ with a heart, you hold his hand in stupid places (though you’d done that before, sometimes), you bring him coffee, you fluster when he kisses your cheek no matter your disposition —you're overwhelmed in the honeymoon phase, and everybody’s surprised. 
“That’s not very cool of you,” Morgan says, having noticed your ducked head, your smile dripping with a private pleasure and your cheek still shining with Spencer’s quick kiss. He’s gone to find plastic cutlery. 
“I’m not that cool when it comes to Spencer,” you say. 
“I can’t believe what I’m hearing.” 
Morgan is as pleased for you both finally getting together as anyone, even if he finds it foreign. It is weird to suddenly be openly in love with each other, and likely stranger for the team to see you in anything that isn’t total calm collection. 
“He’s so lovely.” 
“Yeah, I know,” Morgan says, more earnest now as he slaps a rolled sandwich down in front of you. “He’s a catch. I asked for no mayonnaise, was I supposed to do that?” 
Emily tucks her seat in next to yours. “He’s totally trapped by that secretary again, I hate to tell you.” 
You turn around. 
“Why would you tell her that?” Morgan asks. 
“What?” 
You peer out of the office door, where Spencer’s being chatted to by a stunningly attractive secretary. She has dark skin and darker hair, alluring almond eyes that light her sweetheart face with a bright charm. “Oh, she’s getting prettier,” you say. 
You’ve got Spencer Reid locked in. Nothing in you doubts that he’s currently infatuated with you. You don’t even care when he laughs at her joke, or when she dips her head bashfully toward him. 
“You better go and get your man,” Morgan says. 
“What for?” 
“She’s flirting hard,” JJ says. She’s only just looked up from her phone. “He’s gonna start blushing.” 
As if. You turn back to the table, unwrapping the paper from your sandwich with a happy sigh. Spencer looks so cute when he blushes, his cheeks turn pink and he smiles like he’s being tickled, it’s adorable. If that pretty secretary wants to do the hard work for you, it’s her prerogative. He’s your boyfriend. 
“I don’t need to do anything, he’s fine,” you say. 
You’re cutting your sandwich in half when you feel a presence behind your back. A familiar hand closes around your shoulder, a voice in your ear, “Thanks for nothing.” 
You giggle at his embarrassed tone, turning your face up to his, immediately delighted by his pink-tinged cheeks and neck. “You looked like you were having fun!” 
“You’re not gonna pretend to be mad?” he asks, leaning over you to open your sandwich. He pulls out a sad looking tomato and a similarly wilted slice of lettuce and closes it again. “Did you want a drink? I can’t believe you.” 
“Spencer, did you want me to come and get you?” you tease. 
“It would’ve been nice of you. Drink?” 
You laugh again, tugging him down by the wrist. “No, Spencer, I don’t want a drink, just sit down. What was I supposed to do? I’m not gonna pull her off of you.” 
“But why?” he asks, nearly not quite pouting. “She asked me if it was too hot in here for me.” He sits in the chair beside you, his hand dropping to the soft inside of your thigh as he leans in imploringly. “If you cared about me at all–”
Everybody laughs, including yourself. He’s clearly joking, and for once nobody on the team mistakes it for ineptitude, which seems to cheer him up. He gives your leg a rather bold squeeze considering who he is and where you are, and again when you gesture for him to lift his face to plant a kiss on the ridge of his jaw. “I do care about you, Spencer. Sorry I wasn’t jealous. Should we try again?” 
He turns your face away from your coworkers, eye to eye. “You’re making fun of me.” 
His hand trails to your elbow. “No,” you say, your skin tingling under his touch. 
“I don’t believe you. And I know you need a drink, they didn’t send your bottle of water. I didn’t manage to find those forks, either.” 
He gets up again. He hasn’t so much as glanced at his own food, patting your back in a promise that he’ll return before he edges out of the office and into the station’s bullpen. You take a smug bite of your sandwich. You can’t hide it.
“Told you,” you say once you’ve swallowed. You hadn’t needed to do anything, and you really aren’t worried about other women. “He likes me a lot.” 
“Understatement of the year.” 
You send Morgan a loving smile. When you glance over your shoulder, Spencer’s taking the long way through the office to the water cooler.
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golden1u5t · 3 days
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Reid being really clingy after being in prison, like he doesn’t leave readers side and is constantly holding on to her.
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ꨄ pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader
ꨄ genre: fluff
ꨄ summary: you knew spencer was clingy, he’s always been, but it intensifies after being prison.
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“where are you going?” spencer’s voice was full of sleep as he spoke. you were sure he was fully asleep and thought you were in the clear to get out of bed but apparently the slightly bit of movement had him awake and alert. you wanted to go get a glass of water but with how attached to you spencer’s been lately, you wanted to get him to sleep first.
you didn’t have a problem with him being attached to your hip, per se, but you figured it would be nice to have a moment alone, even if it was only for a few minutes. you knew why he was so clingy and it’s sure to pass when he gets back in the routine of being back at home, so for now you’ll let him hold onto you and you’ll give up your personal space until he’s back to normal.
“i’m just going to get a glass of water, baby. do you want to come with me?” it was a stupid question, really, since you already knew he was come with you whether you invited him or not.
spencer didn’t verbally answer you, opting to nod his head and get out of bed. he attached himself to you almost immediately, wrapping his arm around yours and trailing behind you all the way to the kitchen. when you made it into the kitchen spencer leaned against the counter while you fixed your drink.
of course though, the second you were done and ready to go back to bed his arm was back around you.
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foxy-eva · 3 days
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Road Trip with Spencer Reid
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weird-is-life · 3 days
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pregnant reader and Spencer fic where he makes her cry on accident 😭😭
Hii lovely, ty for the request🥰! Hope this is okay, warnings: fluff, kisses, like one swear word, reader cries (not because of something bad tho, it's cute), use of pet names (0.6k)
Spencer is running late at least later than he'd told you he would be and he can't stress it more. You've been home alone almost the whole day, and Spencer knows you are probably more than lonely.
But even if he's already late Spencer makes one more stop to get some groceries before heading home to you.
When he finally arrives home, he can't stop apologising as you greet him by the door, the baby bump very visible underneath one of his sweaters.
"Hi sweetheart, I'm so sorry I'm late there was a problem we needed to deal with," Spencer apologises and kisses your cheek.
"It's okay, Spence," you say into his shirt, already hugging him tightly, "I missed you a lot though."
Spencer looks at you like he always does with a too loving smile, "I missed you two, too."
Spencer ushers you towards the couch, he doesn't want you to be standing for too long 'cause he knows your feet would hurt, and also because he intends to cuddle you as much as possible there.
He quickly unpacks the groceries, and remembers the snacks he's bought for you. What he doesn't know is that you've been craving exactly the same snack he's bought the entire day.
"Here I got you these sweetheart," Spencer gives the snacks to you and rushes to the bedroom to change into something much more comfortable than the suit.
You stay still, your eyes filling up with tears as you hold the snacks in your hands.
When he comes back to you, he finds you eating the snacks while the tears run down by your cheeks.
"Woah, woah, woah, what's wrong?" Spencer immediately sits next to you, and starts to wipe the tears away.
"I just....-" you start with small hiccup, "I just love you so much."
A warm chuckle escapes Spencer's mouth, before he's back to comforting you. He's read every single book there's on pregnancy, so he knows how tough it is with the changes of hormones.
"Oh, baby, I love you too is that why you're crying, huh? Or is it something else? Maybe me being late?" He really hope it isn't the latter.
"N-no, I just-... I just really wanted these snacks all day, Spence," you tell him as another set of tears escapes from your eyes, "a-and they are too good."
"Oh sweetheart, if I knew you wanted them so badly i would have bought more," Spencer tells you with a sympathetic smile.
He understands it can be a lot for you from time to time, even if it's something as simple as craving some snack, so he let's you eat your snacks while he wipes away the tears. He does that until the snacks are gone along with the tears.
You look just unhappy about finishing the snacks as you did minutes ago eating them. You give him a puppy eyes, and Spencer is up on his legs before you can even say his name.
"Spencer...?"
"Don't worry, lovely. I got it, I'll buy you more than enough," Spencer quickly gives you a kiss, and goes to put on his shoes, car keys already in his hand.
"Spence?"
"Yes?" he looks back at you so fucking lovingly completely unbothered about the fact that he has to go to the shop again that you think you might start crying again (Spencer loves you so much that it happens a lot, you crying about how much you love him).
"Of course, but only if you really want to. I don't mind going alone."
"I want to," you say enthusiasticly. That is all Spencer needs to take your shoes, and go back to you. He puts the shoes on for you, kisses your bump, and helps you get up.
"C'mon, sweetheart. I'll get you anything you want if you tell me about your day, " Spencer happily listens to you chatter about everything that crossed your mind through the day.
You and Spencer leave the shop with way too many snacks, but it's okay because you're happy as one can be and that's all Spencer needs, okay maybe the cuddles too.
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pathologicalreid · 19 hours
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this is the job | S.R.
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You and Spencer (almost) get into a fight about the demands of your job.
who? spencer reid x retired!reader content warnings: takes place before the events of stuck between a rock and a hard place (so like circa 9x20), retired!reader is not actually retired yet, slight bickering, spoilers for season 6 finale (supply and demand), reader is female word count: 1.13k a/n: just a little shorty piece about my beloved spencer and retired!reader, im having a lot of fun writing this little vignette style series. i know it's short but the next piece will be long and very hurt/comfort heavy.
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When the phone started ringing, you thought it was Spencer’s phone, but after letting it go for a few rings, you begrudgingly realized it was your ringtone. Groaning, you turned in Spencer’s arms and grabbed your phone off of your bedside table before answering the call. “Hello?” You greeted groggily.
There was only one person who would be calling you at two in the morning. Andi Swann’s voice rang through the receiver, “We need you to come in.”
“Now?” You asked, blinking sleep out of your eyes. Next to you, Spencer started to wake up. Using his thumb, he rubbed small, soothing circles over your hip while you talked on the phone.
It was a pointless question, you already knew the answer, and that was why you were already getting out of bed. “Yes, we need to get you out as soon as possible. We might have a lead on The Program.”
You sighed, looking over at Spencer, who was now sitting up, as you nodded, “Okay, I’ll shoot you a text when I’m on my way.” You hung up the phone, setting it back down on the bedside table before you made your way to the closet to retrieve your go bag.
“You’re leaving?” Spencer asked, burning both of your retinas when he leaned over to turn on a lamp.
Hesitantly, you started grabbing clothes out of your side of the dresser. Most of your clothes would be in the apartment that the bureau would set you up in, but you could bring some of your things. Basics, mostly. “Uh, yeah,” you answered.
Peering over at you while you tugged on a pair of jeans, Spencer furrowed his brow. “You just got back,” he responded, getting out of bed himself.
“I know, but that was Andi. She says they might have a lead on The Program, so I have to go in,” You informed him, trying not to topple over while you put your socks on.
Sat on the edge of the bed, your boyfriend leaned back and watched you pack. “I believe the operative word there is ‘might’. Tell them to send someone else,” he urged, not wanting you to leave.
Shaking your head, you zipped your bag shut, “You know they don’t have anyone else.” It was true – you were the only female undercover agent that Swann had.
Spencer clenched his jaw, “I know they don’t have anyone else, that’s part of the problem. They need to hire someone else to split the burden with you, it shouldn’t be all on you.”
“This is my job, Spence. I can’t just tell them I’m not coming in. You drop everything as soon as Hotch calls,” you reminded him.
Reaching out for your hands, Spencer pulled you in, so you were standing between his legs. “Hotch would let me spend a night in my own bed before calling me back in. You got home at ten, baby. It’s been four hours and eight minutes,” he said, keeping his voice low in the dead of the night.
Giving in a little, you leaned into him, “Our jobs are different. We have different demands.” You brushed off his concern. There was at least a part of you that knew he was right. As usual, you called Spencer as soon as you had debriefed with Andi. He picked you up and brought you home.
He placed his hands gently on your waist, “You’re burning the candle at both ends. You don’t eat or sleep enough when you’re undercover, and that won’t do anyone any good.”
Stepping back, you wiped a hand down your face, “I know, but there are so many people out there who need my help. I could save those people.” You bargained with him.
Spencer shook his head, “We’ve spent a total of four nights together this calendar year. It’s April.”
You knew that. You kept track just as much as he did, but that didn’t change the fact that you had a job to do, “You knew the score when you asked me out, Spence.” Your tone was a warning. When he asked you out after you worked with the BAU to rescue Renee Matlin, you warned him that you weren’t around much.
Admittedly, you hadn’t expected to fall in love with him.
Slipping your phone into your back pocket, you inclined your head toward him, “This is the job.” This job was who you were, Spencer knew that just as well as you did.
“This isn’t the job, love. You’re acting like you don’t have an option. It’s almost as if…” his voice trailed off as if he was stopping himself from saying something he’d later regret.
You crossed your arms in front of your chest, “You might as well say it.” Maybe he’d give you a reason to walk out the door.
He shrugged helplessly, “Fine, I think Andi’s taking advantage of your selflessness and your need to please everyone.” He narrowed his gaze, “You were just gone for five weeks, and now you’re leaving again.”
What crushed you the most was that he was right. “I don’t want to let anyone down,” you murmured. Padding over to him, you wrapped your arms around him, holding your breath until he reciprocated. “That includes you,” you admitted, chest tight, “I don’t… I don’t know what to do.”
Taking a deep breath, Spencer smoothed your hair at the back of your head, “You’re gonna go save some lives, because that’s what you do.” His voice was low and steady, “I’ll be here when you get back.”
You jumped when a phone started ringing, this time it actually was Spencer’s.
He picked it up and answered the phone, “Hey,” he greeted, face falling as the other person spoke. “I’ll be right there.”
Eyeing him hesitantly, you saw his entire demeanor change. The BAU had a case. Checking the time, you pulled back, “I should go.”
“Y/N,” he said. “I don’t want to part on bad terms,” he revealed to you as he started to get dressed himself.
Peering up at him, you offered your boyfriend a small smile, “We’re never on bad terms, angel boy.” You were just navigating a complicated relationship.
He raised his eyebrows like that statement surprised him, “but if I’m not going to see you for another month, then we can at least drive in together.”
Sitting down on the edge of the bed, you had already made your decision, “If we drive in together, then I have to call you for a ride when I get back.” You settled your hands in your lap, crossing one leg over the other.
“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Spencer responded, leaning over you to press a gentle kiss to your forehead.
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how SPENCER REID shows his love:
gn!reader — fluff
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he shows it with his chivalry: opting to walk on the outside of the path, keeping you safe from the cars on the road. though, when you forget the rule, he's quick to remind you - a gentle hand cupping the small of your back, guiding you to swap places with him. 
he shows it with his touch: only ever wanting your hands in his, always preferring the touch of you. whether that be fingers loosely entwined or a deep embrace, you'd be the only person he'd let touch him in the way you do. he likes knowing you're near, so he's often one to have his fingers playing with the ends of your hair or fiddling with the fabric on your clothes.
he shows it with his thoughtfulness: reminding you to bring a jacket, knowing the weather will change later in the day. but if you were to leave it behind, it would be no problem - he'd already have a spare for you. he's often forgetful with his own things but never when it comes to you.
he shows it with his articulate attention to detail: giving gifts that hold a story, a specific meaning tied in. whether that be a memory you told in passing or a saying you shared, he's one to remember and give you a little something with sentiment.
he shows it with his vulnerability: opening up about the difficulties in his life - sharing all the things he was forced to overcome. he allows himself to be exposed and needy and anxious around you, letting you see the parts most don't want to see. 
he shows it early in the morning: waking up before he has to so he can squeeze in some last-minute cuddles before leaving for work. always snuggling himself up behind you, pressing kisses into your hair - remembering your scent for his day away from you. you have to be awake before he can leave though, he can't not say "goodbye."
he never fails to show you his love.
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idk if I like this, but I miss him and this was my in drafts so worth posting
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ginkgo-phyta · 2 days
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sneak peak alert!! here's one for my dom!spencer x reader smut fic. its still a wip, so hopefully this tides y'all over some. enjoy! 18+ mdni
(pay no mind to how ooc this is teehee)
“Watch.” Spencer hisses, shoving your head back to its original position. Uncontrollably, a faint whimper rips from your throat. You wordlessly do as you’re told, training your eyes on the man on the screen in front of you fucking his partner’s throat, her eyes watering and rolling back until all you can see are the whites. “C’mon, baby. Tell me what you like.” As your perched in his lap, Spencer’s voice is sickly sweet now mumbling against your arm, nipping it lightly. His left hand is under your shirt, fingertips barely playing with your hardened and sensitive nipples. His right hand is still on your back, moving between scratching your skin and teasing the waistbands of your shorts and panties. He’s driving you crazy.
The urge to close your eyes is hard to fight off, but you try your hardest. “I…” You’re breathless, despite not having even done anything yet, “I like how he’s controlling her,” you gulp as Spencer begins to roll one of your nipples between his thumb and forefinger, “a-and using her.”
“That’s what you want, hmm.” It’s not a question, so much as an observation. “You want me to use you like a toy?” Spencer leans in to mouth against your ear, “Want me to fuck your throat ‘til you can’t even speak?” Where did he learn to talk like this? Who is this man?
You know it’s not rhetorical. He’s waiting for an answer as his deep breaths whip strands of your hair around. He dips his head to press kisses onto the back of your neck. Your hands dig into his plush thigh as much as is allowed by the cloth of his pants stretched tight. “Yes,” you breathe out. Even to yourself it sound desperate.
“Oh, my dirty girl.” He drawls, roughly cupping your tit and kneading it as he wishes. “You want my cock, don’t you? Just wanna shove it down your throat?”
His words have your stomach turning cartwheels, and you moan at just the thought of his dick in your mouth. You’ve never yearned for anything so intensely, craved something so intrinsically. Nodding emphatically, you draw your bottom lip between your teeth. 
This was going to be a long night, but you wouldn't want anything less.
comment, reblog, like! :D follow to stay updated on the release of the finished piece :P
link to my sub!spencer sneak peak
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mcntsee · 1 day
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— ★ Her voice
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↳ Summary: It’s been four years since her death and Spencer is struggling with the fact that he can’t entirely remember what her voice sounded like.
↳ Warnings: Death (oop— you are dead), grief, angst, sadness, mood swings. Not proof read. No use of “Y/n”
↳ Author’s note: This was requested by a lovely anon that is going through the same situation as Spencer. Anon, and anyone else who might need it, you are not alone. Grief is a bitch, yes, but soon enough it will get better. Don’t ever doubt asking for help.
* ੈ✩‧₊˚
Since the night they lost her, Spencer has undergone significant changes. His demeanor shifted, not entirely transforming him into a new person, but certain characteristic traits that defined Spencer had certainly faded away.
 
The confidence she had helped him build vanished entirely, leaving him a mere shadow of his former self. His hard-to-understand jokes became less frequent, and the statistical facts he used to effortlessly share with the team seemed to fade into the background. Though they knew he still possessed the knowledge, his once vibrant presence now felt subdued and distant, as if a vital part of him had been lost along with her.
 
Losing her didn't entirely change him; if anything, it returned him to the twenty-four-year-old they had once known.
 
Appearance-wise, he remained largely unchanged. Though the passage of time had left its mark with subtle signs of aging—darker bags under his eyes and a paler complexion, suggesting increased time spent indoors—his essence remained the same.
 
But if there was one thing that underwent a complete transformation for Spencer, it was his choice of accessories. While he had always worn a watch, in terms of fashion accessories, that had been the extent of it.
 
Now, however, his hands were usually adorned with rings—rings that appeared slightly too small for him. It was only when Penelope noticed the gold heart ring she had gifted her on her birthday among them that the team realized those rings had belonged to her, not Spencer.
 
That, or the dagger necklace he now always wore. While the rings constantly changed—every day a new set—the necklace remained constant. It became pretty obvious to all of them that Spencer probably never took it off, especially when the gold edges started to tarnish.
 
With the 4th year anniversary of her death quickly approaching, the team had been anticipating a change in Spencer’s mood. Typically, Spencer became grumpy and irritable as the two-week countdown to the anniversary began. However, this year, his demeanor was more than just that.
 
He was angry. He had snapped at all of them more times than they could count, often for seemingly stupid reasons. He had gotten little to no work done since last week, and most of the time, unless explicitly required, he kept his distance from them as much as possible. Usually, he could be found sitting at his desk, staring at the files in front of him while either tugging at his hair or pulling at the necklace around his neck.
 
They had all tried to talk to him, asking him multiple times what was wrong or offering help, only to be met with Spencer's yelling.
 
It wasn’t unusual for him to distance himself and become grumpier around this date, but this was different. They had never seen him this angry before.
 
So when the day arrived, Hotch called for a meeting. They waited patiently for Spencer to sit down, with JJ closing the door behind her. There was a tense silence in the room, lingering for a moment longer than they wanted, with their faces constantly shifting between each other until Rossi finally spoke, and all eyes landed on Spencer.
 
“What’s the matter, kid?”
 
Spencer, who had previously been looking down, his hands toying with the necklace around his neck, snapped his head up in Rossi’s direction, meeting his eyes with anger.
 
“Is there a case?”
“No.”
“Then, what is this?”
 
Rossi's mind raced, searching for the right words, but his mouth moved ahead, unable to keep pace. Only hesitant filler sounds escaped as his lips repeatedly opened and closed in search of words.
 
“Talk to us, Spence. What is going on?”
 
Spencer’s hand ceased its relentless movement on the jewelry. His eyes were moving around the room, scanning the faces of his team; his family as they watched him.
 
He wanted to yell at them as he had for the past two weeks, to scream and curse them for profiling him without his consent, but tears had already begun to form in his eyes before he had a chance to pick who to yell at first. Shortly after, his head fell into his palms as sobs wracked his body.
 
"Oh, my boy genius." Penelope's embrace was warm, enfolding him completely. Drawing him close until his head found solace against her chest, his arms instinctively encircling her, fingers seeking comfort in the softness of her touch as her hand gently caressed the back of his head.
 
They waited in silence, their hearts heavy as they watched his body tremble with sobs, while Penelope spoke softly, whispering words of comfort, her head resting gently on top of his.
 
After a moment, his sobs became softer, his hands coming up to wipe his face as his back stretched back up again. “I can’t—“
 
With a sigh, he cleared his throat, his eyes unable to meet his teammates’. “I’m not sure I remember her voice.” He whispered with a trembling voice, cracking once while he spoke as fresh tears formed in his eyes. “I think I remember it, but I’m not sure if my brain is just tricking me into believing that’s what she sounded like.”
 
“I don’t know what’s true and what is made up by the grief in my mind,” he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. With a deep breath, he found the courage to face his friends. “Please help me.”
 
“Alright. What do you remember?”
 
With a slow nod, his eyes closed briefly, a couple of tears escaping without permission as he dove deep into his memories. “I remember her voice had a rasp,” he said, a small frown gracing his features. “I—I think.”
 
His eyes opened once more, scanning the familiar faces, searching for some sort of reassurance in their understanding gazes.
 
It was only then that the team started to realize that, much like him, they couldn’t really recall what her voice sounded like. "I don’t remember her voice being raspy," said Hotch, breaking the silence that had fallen upon them.
 
“No, Spence is right. It was there, not overpowering, but distinct enough to hear.”
 
The comment was only followed by Morgan shaking his head in disagreement, causing doubt and fear to consume Spencer once again. Hearing them talk about something he was sure about only furthered his growing doubt. "I, uh—her tone was soft and patient," he interjected, hoping to quell the uncertainty gnawing at him.
 
At that, Emily perked up, her head nodding rapidly. “Yeah! It sounded like someone explaining something to a child without using an exaggerated baby voice.”
 
It seems like the discussion had been prolonged, spanning over an hour, yet instead of alleviating his worry, it exacerbated it. Rather than providing reassurance, it seemed to have fueled his uncertainty, amplifying his doubts about his own memory.
 
As his frustration mounted, any traces of tears dried up, leaving behind a lingering desire to lash out at his friends for exacerbating the situation. And perhaps he would have succumbed to that impulse, if not for the fact that when he looked at them again, he could see the pain etched in their faces as they struggled to recall.
 
In all the years since her death, he has not once stopped to think about how it would have affected the rest of them too. He had been too consumed by his grief to realize that he hadn't been the only one to lose someone.
 
Emily had lost her best friend, the one steadfast presence throughout her entire career at the BAU. She was the only person among them who had opened her arms and accepted Emily into the team as soon as she stepped foot into the office.
 
Hotch had lost the godmother of his son, the one person who was always there to lend a helping hand, keeping Jack safe and cared for. She had been the first to hug and congratulate him when he announced they were expecting, and she was the one who would always listen and reassure him when he doubted his abilities as a husband and parent.
 
Penelope's sweet tooth flourished with each treat the girl brought for the tech analyst. With endless creativity in her choices, there was never a dull moment when they gathered in Penelope's office, engaging in lively conversations about anything and everything under the sun.
 
Rossi had essentially lost a child. She was the only person he willingly allowed into his kitchen, the sole recipient of his culinary wisdom without the need for her to beg for it like the rest of the team. Rossi was the one she would turn to whenever she and Spencer had a fight, and he was the one she would seek solace in when pained about one of his ex-wives.
 
JJ and Morgan had always been closer to him than her, but they had loved her nonetheless, just as she had loved them. They would often act like siblings, going out clubbing together or bickering about any trivial thing they disagreed on.
 
Looking at his friends' faces now, he realized that, although this whole ordeal might not have helped him at all, they were all trying their hardest to remember her voice. And maybe he shouldn't have told them because, only now that he took in the pain in their faces did he realize that they probably remembered even less than he did with his eidetic memory.
 
The meeting was dismissed shortly after his realization. Now, they were all back in their respective spots, unable to focus on work as they were lost in thought, much like he had been for the past two weeks.
 
His phone vibrated on his desk. With a quick glance at the screen, he saw a text from Penelope. His hand swiftly moved from the necklace to the phone, quickly reading the message that urged him to go to her office before standing up and making his way over there.
 
Once there, he saw Penelope browsing through her personal laptop, sniffing as her hand came up to wipe her cheeks. Slowly, he made his way over to the chair she had dragged in for him to sit on. "Penelope?" he called softly, concern evident in his voice.
 
"I have something that might help you," she said, not meeting his eyes as she clicked on an audio file. With a nod of his head, he encouraged her to continue. "Before she died," fresh tears gathered in both of their eyes, Spencer being the only one successful at holding them back. "She asked me to record a message for you."
 
Spencer felt a surge of anger at Penelope’s admission. "Garcia, after four years, you're only telling me now?" His voice grew louder with each word, and his fists clenched tightly as he struggled to contain his frustration.
 
“I know. I know, but she asked me to only play it for you when the moment was right.”
 
“Then do it.”
 
Penelope gave a slow nod, her index finger gliding across the mouse pad, tapping her finger once when the mouse cursor reached the play button.
 
The computer's speakers filled the room with the sound of shaky breaths amidst static, the interference momentarily intensifying before fading away completely. “Are you—is it... God…”
 
The sound of her voice filled his ears once again after so many years, the tears in his eyes now freely flowing as his heart swelled with warmth at the familiar sound he had desperately yearned for so long to hear again. “Are you recording?”
 
"Yes, but, please, just save your breath. They are on their way there.”
 
“No, I—“ more labored breaths followed as she once again cut herself off. “Spence, I am so, so sorry, love,” she choked out, her voice trembling with emotion.
 
The once-warm feeling in his heart was quickly replaced by a sinking sensation in his stomach. As he listened to the pain in her voice, he understood why Penelope had been hesitant to show him this.
 
“I love you, Spencer. So, so much.” By now, he knew she was crying, her words mingling with the soft sobs and sniffles that escaped her.
 
“I’m offended. You only love Spencer?”
 
Before he could get angry at Penelope for teasing her while she was dying, her soft laugh—something he thought he would never hear again—reached his ears, restoring warmth to his pained heart. “I love you too, Pen.”
 
He had been looking down, but when those words were uttered, he looked up to find Penelope’s face. A soft, trembling smile graced her lips, her tear-stained cheeks adding a poignant depth to her expression as she kept her focus on the computer before them.
 
"I love all of you," she coughed, wincing in pain as she took another shaky breath. "A lot. I love you guys so much."
 
“They are almost there. Hold on, please.”
 
With a sigh, she said, “I’m sorry I broke my promise, Spence. I know I said I would never leave you, but I—” there was a puse as she coughed, “I’m proud of you.”
 
His hand, which had unintentionally been spinning the ring around his finger, was quickly engulfed in warmth. As he shut his eyes, he quickly gave Penelope’s hand a squeeze that was returned.
 
“I love you, baby. Always have, always will.”
 
There was silence after that; the air of that night was the only sound coming from her side as Penelope desperately called out her name, begging her for a response before the sound of his own voice yelling her name reached his ears. The recording ended shortly after the sound of someone’s knees hitting the ground beside her played.
 
There was a moment of silence as the two sat there, hands still in each other's as they stared at the screen. As Penelope turned to look at him, she was taken aback by the soft smile on his lips. “I knew her voice was raspy.”
 
 * ੈ✩‧₊˚
 
As the 7th anniversary of her death quickly approached, Spencer had undergone significant changes since the day they talked about her. His demeanor shifted, not entirely transforming him into a new person, but certain characteristic traits that had been missing from Spencer had returned.
 
The confidence that had once disappeared was slowly starting to return, and the team found themselves once again struggling to keep up with his jokes and to grasp all the new statistical facts he effortlessly shared with them.
 
He didn't completely revert back to the genius they had grown accustomed to, but he was no longer the twenty-four-year-old version of himself either.
 
Appearance-wise, he hadn't changed much. While he had continued to age, the dark bags under his eyes had become fainter, and a light tan had returned to his complexion.
 
His hands were still usually adorned with rings—rings that seemed too small for him. And the dagger necklace still hung from his neck; its original gold color has now faded to almost silver from daily wear.
 
The only new change the team had noticed since that night was the little iPod and earphones that he now carried everywhere he went. He always kept them close, often putting the earphones in while working on files or during flights.
 
When they had asked what he was constantly listening to, he had responded with his characteristic tight-lipped Spencer smile and said, "Her voice."
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randomoutsiders · 5 hours
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retired bau agent/mom!reader x dad!spencer reid-
reader bringing in her and spencer's daughter to say hi and everyone not knowing about their kid (and realizing that's why reader retired) and when they ask spencer why he never told them he was a dad, he just shrugs and says "you never asked."
(this made sense in my head but in case you're confused: each paragraph toggles between the perspective of r and spencer)
spencer reid's well of secrets could extend further than the miles travelled by the bau's private jet, and although the team attempts to make quick work at the chipping surface of reid's exterior, there's little to be revealed without specific inquiries. it's easy to willingly tuck away secrets into neat manila folders when the atrocities faced on a daily basis are enough to burrow into the softest and most delicate parts of the mind, and spencer is willing to make the separation.
but penny will not stop crying. her throat must be coarse from the wails that seem to echo off the walls, tears tacky against her warm cheeks and chest heaving with the effort of her woes. "sweetheart," you attempt to quell, lowering yourself down to her level on aching knees. "daddy will be back. he always comes back, doesn't he? just a quick day in the office, my darling."
and spencer feels like crying, with the impending questions that seem to originate in a never-ending cesspool of regularity and that blares up at him from the files on his desk. he blinks hazily down at them, picking mindlessly at the frayed hem of his sleeve, trying to make sense of the words that are already permanently printed on the back of his skull.
20 miles away is far too long of a distance of your daughter from his father, and so you're shoving her arms through her jacket sleeves, heaving a woeful sigh when she insists on doing it herself. "no more crying, alright, we're going to see daddy soon," you swipe your thumbs over her warbling cheeks, rolling a tongue over your teeth to prevent a frustrated scream that threatens to burst through the cracks.
spencer looks up at the clock, tuning out the idle chatter that prattles on behind him, derek with a mug of coffee in hand, and emily, who's pulling apart a granola bar that's gone stale. "what's going on in that head of yours, pretty boy?" he steps closer, leaning over the lanky male's shoulder to peer at the sheets in front of him. "you've done that before, haven't you?"
spencer shrugs, flipping through another page when the subway rolls to a stop at your destination, and you're bustling your daughter out of the way of the sliding doors before they can clamp closed on an article of clothing. the streets are slick with yesterday's rain as you cling tightly to the toddler's chubby hand, hoping to navigate to the office before another meltdown drops her to the dirty ground.
spencer tries to ignore the bubbly questions from his colleagues, too unfocused and apathetic about another dredging day about sadistic and cruel individuals who have little care for human life. but the doors swing open, and his ears catch onto a whine he's all too accustomed with.
his age-old chair squeaks when he whirls around, and he finds your weary face, a once-forelorn toddler all giggles and smiles now. "she wouldn't stop crying," you breathe, jaw tightening with an exhaustion he's familiar with. "she missed you."
"hi peanut," he coos when his daughter comes barreling into his shin, fingers tightening around the slacks around his leg. "what's the matter with you, huh?"
"daddy," she purls in her weepy tone when he pulls her off the ground, forehead thudding into his collarbone. "daddy, missed you."
he curls his arms around tight, offering a gentle smile when you collapse into his desk chair, cushion still warm from his presence. "you can't be crying like that, pumpkin. it's not very nice, is it?"
derek is blinking back shock a few feet off, emily too stunned to allow her usual flow of snarky remarks to roll off her tongue. "y/n?" derek finally speaks, tongue dry. "i.. haven't seen you in forever. the hell you doing here?"
you push a smile onto your face despite the exhaustion that weighs it down. "penelope wouldn't stop crying. missed her dad."
"a baby?!" a voice screeches from the corner, before boisterous heels clack against linoleum floors, the jangle of exuberant jewelry following the sound. "oh my god, as i live in breath!" the original owner of the name gushes over the toddler, clasping a hand over her mouth. "oh my god she has gotten so big, since i saw her last!"
"woah, woah, sugar, you've seen her?" derek holds a hand out, forced to place his coffee down. "you knew about this?"
garcia waves him off, pulling her goddaughter away from her father with gentle coos towards the sensitive child. "oh of course i did, have you met me? couldn't keep reid's baby away from me if you tried."
aaron announces his arrival with the thud of his expensive leather shoes thudding against the stairs as he descends into the bullpen, adjusting the cufflinks around his wrists. "a surprise visit? what's the occasion?"
"you?" emily scoffs, suddenly disinterested in her snack. "you knew about this too??"
derek rubs his hands over his jaw. "you didn't say anything! why didn't you tell me you were a dad?" he thunks spencer in the shoulder, who is suddenly in a much more jovious mood now that his daughter and wife are present.
the man shrugs, leaning against his desk and taking your sore shoulder in hand, giving it a mighty squeeze. "you never asked."
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secretlovezz · 8 hours
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can you write anything with bau! reader x spencer, who are expecting a baby🥺 i love dad spencer sm🫶🏻
Yes omg dad!Spencer he's my favorite! Hope you like this 🫶❤️
Spencer Reid x reader
Warnings: reader a little upset (Spence makes her feel better tho), pregnancy (duh), flufffffff, short and sweet, not proofread, wordcount: 582
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You try your best to focus on the task at hand, the stack of paperwork you had been putting off all week, emails on top of emails gathering in your computer's inbox, but the kicks of the baby growing inside you keep your mind elsewhere. Her little, still growing, feet kick into your ribs harshly making any position you try to move into uncomfortable, she just can't seem to keep still today; absolutely restless.
If you were home you might whine to your husband, Spencer, maybe even cry out of frustration but being surrounded by coworkers keeps you from doing both just as much as the baby keeps you from work.
Spencer watches as you rest your left hand on top of your bump -your thumb moving gently back and forth against the fabric of your top- and he smiles at the ring adorned on your finger, but when he takes notice of the slight discomfort etched onto your face his grin quickly dissipates. Your brows are drawn together in what seems to be annoyance, your eyes are closed, and your head is tipped back as you swivel your desk chair back and forth in an attempt to calm yourself and your little one.
you can feel Spencer's eyes raking your figure -he's always been able to read you just as quickly as he can read books- and you keep your eyes shut to avoid his worried glance despite your current need for his safeguard. You don't want him to think you're dramatic, that maybe you're being annoying despite knowing he would never think something like that of you and never has.
One of your eyes cracks open to glance at him and you hope the quick movement of you swiveling in your chair will keep him from noticing your peeking, but of course, he's far too perceptive to not detect your gaze. His head cocks to the side in question, "Are you alright," he asks.
You close your eye again and bring your hands to rub at your face, the tips of your cold fingers digging into your eyes, you're starting to get a headache.
Without warning two large hands land on your shoulders, fingers poke and prod at your skin in a way that makes you sigh in relief. When you tilt your head back -eyes still closed- your husband frowns at you, "I wish you'd tell me when your not feeling good."
you almost don't respond the movement of his fingers gently gliding to your hair and scratching at your scalp makes your bottom lip quiver slightly. "I'm okay." Your voice breaks when you speak and Spencer doesn't comment on it, he doesn't want to make you actually cry by pointing it out, instead he moves only one of his also cold hands down the slope of your heated cheeks and rest it there, a gentle remind that he's here for you.
"You look pretty, do you know that," he moves his head closer to your ear to whisper to you, "beautiful."
That finally makes your eyes snap open and he's grinning at you again. Groaning at how his teasing worked to get you looking at him, you tilt your head and lay a kiss on the palm of his hand, "your child is restless," You complain to him, "she gets it from you."
"I'm sorry." His words are sickeningly genuine, they make you smile.
"Its okay baby, I still love you."
He responds to your tease, "You better."
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vintagecarat · 13 hours
Text
Confessions and Cuddles
Summary: You finally tell Spencer that you love him.
A/N: This might be the absolute WORST title I've ever come up with. I wrote this on a whim without any sort of plan, and I already know that I'm going to cringe every single time I see the title of this one.
Enjoy the fic, and have a fantastic day <3
Note(s): gn!reader & no pronouns used (reader does have long hair, though), the briefest mention of intimacy in the entire world, tooth-rotting fluff,
Word Count: 2437
* * *
After a lifetime of nothing but trauma heaped on top of even more trauma, Spencer couldn’t be any happier than he was in this moment.
You were curled up on the couch in Spencer’s apartment. You were sitting on his lap, and he was running his hands through your hair in a way that made you purr in satisfaction. For someone who wasn’t particularly fond of physical contact, Spencer absolutely adored being close to you and touching you whenever he could.
You were in the middle of watching a terrible rom-com - it had been your idea, and Spencer was never one to disagree with you - but it was clear that neither of you were paying attention. You only wanted to be close to one another, and if you had to suffer through a terrible movie to do it, then so be it. Spencer was often gone for so long when he was away on a case that you often ended up spending every single  moment clinging to each other when he was home.
You truly couldn’t get enough of him, and he truly couldn’t get enough of you.
Then, the peaceful silence was broken when you muttered something that made Spencer pause. His fingers stopped combing through your hair and came to rest on the nape of your neck as he looked down at you. His mouth was hanging open slightly, and there was a subtle blush creeping up his neck.
“What did you say…?”
At Spencer’s softly spoken words, you turned your head to look at him. You couldn’t stop yourself from laughing at his shocked expression, even though your heart was pounding and a blush that matched his own began painting your cheeks.
“I…” your expression smoothed into a soft, albeit nervous, smile, “I said, I love you.”
You and Spencer had been dating for a little over a year, and your lives were beyond perfect. You’d both gone through so much in life, but everything felt absolutely worth it now that you had each other. You’d always imagined that there would be some grand performance when it finally came time to say those three words to him, but instead, you’d said them without even realising it.
You’d absolutely meant it, though. 
Spencer continued staring at you for a moment longer. He couldn’t find his voice at all, and his mouth was still hanging open. Then, his fingers began moving again, though instead of running them through the strands of your hair, he started to slowly braid them. Spencer’s hands were shaking.
“I love you, too,” Spencer muttered the words, almost as if he was worried that his voice would crack if he spoke them any louder, “So much.”
Your heart filled with so much warmth as he said those words back to you. There had never been any doubt in your mind that he loved you just as much as you loved him, but hearing the verbal confirmation meant more to you than anything.
A shiver ran down your spine at the touch of his gentle fingers against your scalp, and a smile flitted across your lips as he began braiding your hair. The last time he’d done that was after you’d been in a bad car accident and broken your arm. You supposed that the weeks after your accident were the moments you truly realised that you loved Spencer, but the words had been stuck to the tip of your tongue ever since.
“You’re shaking,” you’d already closed your eyes at this point, and you’d settled back into Spencer’s lap as if you hadn’t just dropped the biggest bombshell in your relationship, “You’re doing that thing where you scrunch your nose up when you’re trying not to cry, aren’t you?”
You didn’t even need to look at him to know exactly what was going on with his expression. You knew Spencer like the back of your hand, and you’d been with him for long enough to have picked up on every single one of his quirks and mannerisms. Just as he had for you. 
Spencer snorted a little at that, “I didn’t think I looked so obvious.”
“You do to me,” you hummed in response, letting out the softest sigh in the world. Spencer always made you feel so comfortable and safe.
You could easily fall asleep to the feeling of Spencer playing with and braiding your hair - to be honest, you’d definitely done that in the past. You’d always been so proud of your hair, and from the way Spencer seemed to find any sort of excuse to play with it, he loved it, too.
It felt as though the weight had been lifted from your shoulders now that the words were out in the open and you didn’t have anything to hide anymore. You and Spencer were inseparable, but you’d definitely wondered once or twice if he’d end up leaving because you’d taken too long to tell him that you loved him. It was a ridiculously stupid thought, of course. You knew that Spencer would rather die than leave you. 
“I don’t understand how you’re better at braiding my hair than I am,” you softly giggled. When you’d first started dating, Spencer didn’t seem at all like the type to do other people’s hair for them, so it came as a complete surprise when he seemed more natural at it than you ever did.
One thing Spencer had never told you was that he’d spent hours watching you intently as you sat in front of the mirror and did your hair. He’d been determined to copy it perfectly to surprise you. It ended up being that he was much better at it, though.
“I’m better than you at most things, sweetheart,” Spencer chuckled, “Braiding just happens to be one of them.”
“Oh. Ouch,” you faked a wince at his comment, and you playfully swatted him. It was true, though, Spencer was better than you at most things. It was hard not to be when he was a literal genius, “I try my best. It’s hard to keep up when you’ve got an IQ as big as your ego.”
You loved to tease Spencer every now and then over his IQ, even though his intelligence was definitely one of his most attractive traits. Spencer had these moments where he’d go full scientific mode and start spouting the most random facts he could think of, and every single time, you couldn’t stop staring at him in pure adoration. 
“I tell you I love you, and then you insult me,” you scoffed, “Despicable.” 
Spencer laughed at your playful swat, and he stopped braiding for a moment to catch your wrist and squeeze it, “Don’t complain too much, sweetheart. I’ve seen the way you look at me when I go into scientific mode,” he let go of your wrist and moved back to your hair, “You can’t hide how much you love it when I start spouting off random facts that go completely over your head.”
You shrugged, “What can I say? You look hot when you go into scientific mode,” you didn’t understand half of the things he told you, but you always listened to intently whenever he started rambling since his voice was your favourite things in the world, “I might not understand anything you’re saying, but that doesn’t mean I’m not listening very intently.”
“You don’t care about anything I’m saying, do you? You just like listening to my voice,” Spencer finished braiding your hair, and he wrapped his arms around your waist as he pulled you tightly against him so your back was flush against his chest, “I could be reading instructions for how to wash a dish and you’d still listen to every word.”
“Oh, absolutely,” you leaned your head back a little so you were almost resting against his shoulder, and you looked up at him, “I could listen to you talk for hours and I’d never get bored. You could probably read me the phone book and I’d listen to every single word.”
To be honest, it had mainly been Spencer’s voice that had attracted you to him in the first place. You’d met at the bookstore near where Spencer lived after you both tried to grab the same copy of your favourite book. Once you started talking about it, you found yourself falling head over heels for him. 
Your lips curled into a little smirk, and you placed your hand gently on his thigh as you squeezed it, “You don’t even realise how badly you turn me on when you whisper in my ear, do you?”
“Hm, I had a hunch,” his own smirk appeared on his lips as he spoke, though his eyebrow cocked slightly as you squeezed his thigh, “Don’t be sneaky, sweetheart. I’m not sure I can think of anything besides you right now, so I may start doing or saying something that I probably shouldn’t.”
You gasped in mock offence, “I’m not sneaky, Spence. I’m about as subtle as a brick wall,” your little smirk grew even wider as you squeezed his thigh again and you felt him tense up ever-so-slightly, “Especially when it comes to you.”
A low groan, a noise that Spencer didn’t make very often, escaped his lips before he could stop it, and he couldn’t help but chuckle, “I’m warning you, sweetheart,” he said, his tone half teasing and half serious, “If you keep that up, I might do something I shouldn’t.”
You scoffed out a laugh at that, but you raised your hands in a mock surrender, “Fine. I’ll stop,” you took your hand away from his thigh, instead choosing to take his hand and interlace your fingers. You stuck your tongue out at him, “Spoilsport.”
For a long moment, the two of you sat silently as you attempted to watch the rest of the movie, even though you’d barely been watching it from the beginning. Your earlier teasing attempts had all but been forgotten.
That was, until, you sneakily slipped your hand behind you, and you squeezed his thigh once more, making sure to go as close to touching through his jeans as you could without actually doing it.
Spencer’s body tensed. You both knew that he never had much restraint when it came to you. Spencer placed his free hand over your hand before you could move it from his thigh, “Please,” he whispered softly, his breath catching in his throat as he met your eyes, “Don’t keep doing that.”
“Sorry,” you shrugged a little sheepishly, “Couldn’t help myself. I’ll stop,” you meant it this time, too. Once Spencer started talking to you in that tone of voice and looking at you with that look in his eyes, you knew that you needed to stop teasing him. 
If there was one thing about your relationship with Spencer, it was that you always knew each other’s boundaries and never went over them.
Your teasing smirk dropped into a warm smile, and you snuggled back against Spencer’s chest with your head resting on his shoulder. You kept a tight hold of his hand, and your heart fluttered as he ran his thumb over your knuckles. You and Spencer held hands so much that you might as well have been superglued together.
"You're just so fun to tease."
Spencer grumbled, but his tone was teasing, “I swear to God. You’re going to be the death of me,” he squeezed your waist, “You know that, right?”
“Yep.”
A comfortable silence fell over the two of you again, and the only sound you could hear was Spencer’s heartbeat softly in your ear as you rested against his chest. 
“I can hear your heart beating,” Spencer said, as if he’d been reading your thoughts, “It’s quite loud.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” you grinned at him, “I’ll try and stop my heart from beating. Just for you.”
Spencer nodded, as if that was the answer he wanted to hear, and he smiled, “You know, experiments have demonstrated that conscious control of the breathing can actually cause arbitrary changes in heart rhythm,” he began to ramble, “It’s even possible to cause cardiac arrest by contracting the abdominal muscles.”
You couldn’t stop yourself from smiling as he rambled on and on about causing your own heart to stop. You were mainly focused on his lips as he talked with such enthusiasm.
Once Spencer realised that you weren’t saying anything, he looked down at you with a sheepish grin, “I’m rambling, aren’t I?”
“Oh yeah, you’re definitely rambling,” you giggled, gently tracing your finger over his lips. He had softer lips than you, which you were very jealous about, “You’re just… You’re so kissable when you’re rambling.”
Spencer laughed at that, and he pressed his lips together for a moment to stop himself from smiling like an absolute idiot, which was something he did a lot around you, “You’d kiss me any time. Dont lie.”
“I definitely would,” you teased, “Believe me. If I knew that I wouldn’t run out of breath, I don’t think I’d ever stop kissing you.”
“Well, sweetheart, I can’t say I’d be too mad about that,” Spencer put a finger under your chin, tilting your  head up so that he could look into your eyes, “I’m pretty sure there are worse ways to die than kissing the love of your life.”
That sentence made you giddy, “I’m the love of your life now, huh?” you smiled at him, your eyes crinkling and your nose scrunching as you did so in the way that proved you were truly happy, “You’ve always got to one up me, haven’t you?”
“Absolutely, my love,” Spencer stroked your hair with his free hand, giving the braid he’d created for you a tug, “I told you. I’m better than you at most things. I think I’ll add confessing my love for you to that list, too.”
“I hate you.”
“No you don’t.”
You scowled at him, but that expression immediately melted away when Spencer kissed you. Your kisses definitely had the tendency to be fiery and passionate when the time came for it, but most of the time, they were gentle and tender. A perfect representation of your relationship. 
After a moment, you and Spencer broke the kiss, and you continued smiling at each other like a pair of teenagers in love. To anyone else, it probably would’ve been sickening.
“I love you so much, Spence.”
“I love you too,” Spencer whispered, and he pressed his lips against your forehead before smirking, “So, what’s all this about you getting turned on when I whisper in your ear, hm?”
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luveline · 12 hours
Note
You mentioned in one post that bombshell!reader was furious with the team for not helping Reid with his addiction (as she should be)…. Would you maybe write about her helping him thru withdrawal or thru the cravings that follow? Maybe subtly at first, then just making sure he knew he wasn’t alone? Just some tender moments where Spencer starts to realize she actually cares about him, even if he doesn’t believe her flirting yet.
-🌕
I love every single thing you write, even for fandoms I’m not even in. You’re amazing!!
thank you for requesting my sweetheart!!! I really hope this is what you wanted, love you <3 fem!reader
cw past drug abuse
“Hi, Spencer Reid.” 
You perch on the edge of his desk with no further introduction. You’ve changed perfumes, to his immediate recognition, the rich smell of your usual parfum swapped for a less consuming scent. He detects apple blossom, and rose, the smallest hint of jasmine, a contrast to your usual vanilla and peony. The human brain can remember 50,000 scents, and Spencer can remember all of yours. Or, he could. 
“You’re not saying hi anymore?” 
“Hi, Y/N.” 
“Hi. It’s nice to see you.” You put your hand on his. Spencer isn’t sure you’ve ever touched his hand before, he’s never really let you, but he doesn’t move away. A huge winding of tension between his shoulders begins to unspool. “It’s really nice to see you, babe. I’ve missed you tons and tons.” 
He looks up tentatively. “You have?” 
“I have. I haven’t really been invited, today. I’m just here to see you.” 
“Why?” Spencer asks. 
You tighten your fingers on his hand. “Missed you. Thought maybe we should, like…” And that’s unusual, for you to use filler words, Spencer doesn’t know what to think of it. “Well, I have something to say to you, and it’s going to either sound reassuring or ridiculous.” 
“Okay.” 
You give him a withering look. “Don’t make it any easier for me.” 
He laughs. The sound alone fosters your smile. “Sorry,” he says softly, “I doubt it’ll be ridiculous.” 
“Spencer Reid, we are friends. We are. But we never do anything outside of work, so I was thinking you could come over tonight and we’d make dinner and watch TV and stuff.” 
“And stuff.” 
“I’m a bit nervous,” you confess, looking down at your lap, then quickly back up into his face, “I’m worried you won’t want to.” 
You’re kind to avoid saying what he’s sure you’re thinking; you’re worried he won’t want to spend the night with you, and instead will look down the long barrel of a small needle. Or, he thinks that’s what you’re thinking. He does it to everyone. 
“What do you want to make for dinner?” he asks. 
“What are you enjoying lately?” 
“I… I don’t know. I’m not really eating.”
“Cereal?” 
“Yes,” he laughs. “Lots of cereal.” 
You tap the wheel of his chair with your heel. You’re dressed as though you aren’t working, wearing a sweet dark dress with a starched collar and baby sleeves, stockings, and a necklace at your neck that glows with a small white crystal. You look amazing. It never makes any sense to Spencer, why you’d taken an interest in him, and why you bother now. He knows he’s hard to care for. He knows he’s making it worse. 
You look up and down his face. You must see the purple half circles beneath his eyes, the crack at the corner of his mouth, the cut he can’t stop picking on his cheek. Every time it scabs, he opens it again. One second he’s sitting there and the next he’s got blood under his fingernail. 
“Hug?” you ask hopefully. 
He goes to stand. You move in too fast and wrap your arms around him, leg slotting between his, leaning over his shoulders with a distinct sense of protectiveness. You squeeze him, a little sigh escaping you that sounds loud so close to his ear. 
“How has it been this week?” you ask quietly. 
“It’s fine.” He cups your back in his arm carefully. The other wraps tight around the small of it. He soaks you up, scared you’re gonna pull away any second. 
“How are you feeling about it? Do you need any extra help?” 
He cringes. “No,” he says. “It’s really fine.” 
“When you texted me, about the cravings? What are they like today?” 
He wishes he could breathe in the smell of your perfume and your skin and tell you they’re all better now. It would make sense; there isn’t much in his life that hasn’t been made better by your attention. He’d struggle to do this without you. You’re his only friend who actually cared enough to say the problem out loud, but you’re just a woman, you can’t work the sort of magic necessary to kick this for him. 
“Spencer?” You pull away, nudging his cheek with the back of your finger. 
“They’re okay. I’m not gonna do anything.” 
“Good, honey. I’m proud of you. I know how hard this is.” 
He bites the inside of his lip, surprised at your caring. He shouldn’t be.
“What are you two whispering about?”
You and Spencer have different reactions to Emily’s sudden question. He flinches like he’s been caught with his hand in the cookie jar and you, still vaguely pissed with everyone for not telling you Spencer was struggling and not afraid to show it, keep your eyes trained on his face. 
“Nothing,” Spencer says. 
You turn to her with a small smile. You still like her, Spencer knows. Secretly, he’s pleased you’re angry for him. It’s nice to have someone so obviously on his side. “We’re just deciding what to get for dinner.” 
“Oh, nice. Date night?” she teases. 
You press your cheek to his forehead. “Date night,” you agree, your hand unmissable where it bunches in his sweater near his heart. 
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golden1u5t · 2 days
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heyyy how’s it going ? I LOVE your work 🫶🏻
I have a little request about Spencer arriving to the BAU with a hickey hidden under his collar but Morgan noticed and start teasing him about with the others.
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ꨄ pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader
ꨄ genre: fluff + suggestiveness
ꨄ summary: spencer’s not very used to having to hide hickeys on his body and you had to leave before he had the chance to ask you how to hide it. doing the best he could, he threw on a shirt with a collar and hoped for the best.
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spencer was sitting at his desk, head ducked down as he worked on his reports for the day. he was finishing up his third report when morgan walked up to his desk, a open folder in his left hand and a cup of coffee in his right.
“hey, kid, what did that note the unsub-“ morgan looked up from the file and looked at spencer, his eyes landing on the deep red bruise poking out of his collar. a smirk immediately broke out on his face. “what is that?”
spencer’s lips turned down, he looked down thinking something was on his shirt but quickly realized that his collar wasn’t in place. his hand shot up to cover his neck but it was too late. “nothing! it’s nothing!”
“since when have you been getting some action, pretty boy? if i remember correctly the last interaction you had with a woman you spilled your coffee on yourself.”morgan snickered and set the file and cup of coffee down on spencer’s desk, he pulled out the chair from the empty desk in front of spencer’s and took a seat.
“i’m not- this is none of your business!” his voice went up a few pitches and a blush was rapidly spreading across his body. spencer’s hands trembled with embarrassment as he tried to fix his collar.
“what have you done to him, morgan? he’s so…red.” garcia walked up behind derek and placed her hands on his shoulders, her eyebrows furrowed slightly as she took in the sight of spencer.
“i haven’t done anything to him but apparently someone else has.” derek reached forward and pulled spencer’s collar to expose the hickey to penelope. spencer swatted his hand away and jerked back, pushing his chair back so he was out of his reach.
“spencer, i didn’t even think you did those types of things!”
“i’m an adult,” spencer’s eyebrows furrowed in disbelief. he knew he was the youngest on the team and they all saw him as the baby of the group but he didn’t actually think that they thought he was exempt from doing adult things. “i do adult things just like the rest of you.”
there was a grimace painted on garcia and derek’s faces when he said that. derek slapped his hands on his legs and gathered his things, mumbling something about unwanted images in his mind as he walked away.
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I’ll never hurt you (Spencer Reid x Reader)
spencer reid can’t help but get involved when a guy moves into your apartment and he hears the fighting between you two escalate. he never meant for it to go farther.
warnings: relationship abuse. nudity. no smut. harsh language. angst
pookie wookie bear // draft from a few months ago
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You moved in early September. Spencer met you the first week you came in, which you were in the process of unloading large brown boxes and small beige baskets of things into your apartment. Your first impressions of him were that he stuttered, rambled and, of course, was absolutely gorgeous.
He helped you unpack, after asking if it was alright, and the two of you had a friendly relationship going forward.
He took special note of your schedule. You'd leave around eight in the morning in a sweater and scarf with your hair up, a leather bag of textbooks, notebooks and a shiny grey laptop on your shoulder, and come home around eight p.m., makeup slightly worn and hair much softer and less organized than the morning, now in the same jacket as when you left, but a work uniform underneath, possibly for a barista or waitress. Your apron would be slung over your shoulder and your bag would have the scarf and sweater hanging partially out the side, and you'd always have this tired, sunken look in your eyes, but it was always replaced by bright cheeks and a smile in the morning.
You noticed his pattern, too. Always leaving in a nice jacket or button-down, sometimes to disappear for days. You always wondered where he went, but your interactions were bound to greetings and curtesies and not much else, mostly due to your nervousness around each other.
In November, a man started to come around every so often. Spencer had picked up from your chipper, however strained, greetings of him that his name was Ben.
By December, he was around every day. Spencer saw through the peephole boxes being carried to the apartment once again.
He decided not to think of it much. You were just a pretty girl who lived on his floor, meant to be with big, meaty guys like Ben. He couldn't help but wonder if he was smart enough for you, intense enough for you.
It wasn't until January that the yelling began. There would be nights where he could hear masculine yelling through the walls, these growling barks of words he couldn't always make out. He'd heard a few things, like, "Fuckin' bitch!" and "Stupid cunt!" Once, he even heard something along the lines of, "If you care so much what the neighbor thinks, why don't you go over there and fuck him!"
The quips were enough to make his blood sear red-hot, his eyes twitch and head ache.
One day, he hadn't heard your light, quick footsteps down the stairs, and he knew Ben had left had the night before because he had slammed the door behind him and said "Slut" just as he passed Spencer's door and pounded down the stairs. Spencer didn't sleep that night, waiting for Ben to return, but he never did. He wasn't sure what his plan was when he did return, but he knew something had to be done.
He decided to come to your door in the morning, alarmed that you were still in around 9:30 a.m. on a Thursday.
He knocked three times, then stood with his hands in his pockets. He heard your feet scamper to the door, then stop just in front.
"Spencer?" you asked, he assumed you were looking through the peephole. "Is everything okay?"
"Yeah, can I just," he paused, "Can I come in a second?"
"Uhm," you exhaled, "Now's not a good time."
"I just," he paused again, "I wanted to talk to you."
"What about?" you asked.
He became so alarmed by this answer, mind racing with every possible scene that could be behind the door. Maybe Ben had returned, he thought, maybe he was forcing you to stay home. Maybe you were crying, maybe he had hurt you. Maybe he had a gun on you at this very moment.
In a moment of complete irresponsibility and thoughtlessness, he touched the doorknob. When it gave way, he pushed himself through the door.
Ben was nowhere to be found, but you were, standing in front of him, eyes dry, but puffy from obvious crying, yellow makeup caked below your right eye, purple showing from underneath.
It was worse than he imagined, the feeling of seeing you in such a way.
"Oh, (Y/N)," he whispered.
When he looked at you with such sympathy, you broken entirely. You ran into his chest, shoulders shaking with sobs. "I couldn't," you breathe, "I couldn't cover the," again, "I can't go to class, I had to call out of work, I," you whispered, "I don't know what to do."
He just held you there, swaying back and forth, rubbing your hair. This was the first time he had seen it down.
"Look at me," he whispered.
You peered up at him with those red, glistening eyes, face swollen, hair stuck to the tears on your cheeks.
"You've gotta kick him out," he whispered, "You have to."
"I can't- he's- he's a cop," your voice wavered, "I'm a- I'm a fucking barista."
"I'm a federal agent," he stated.
You breathed out. "He'll," you pause, then whisper in a deadly flat voice, "He'll kill me if I make him leave."
He breathes, then whispers, staring deep into your eyes, hands on each side of your face. "I'll kill him if he touches you ever again."
He pulled you into his chest again, once again assuming the rocking motion from before, rubbing your back with one hand and stroking your hair with another.
This was easily ten minutes, possibly more. Then, the door handle jiggled. "Let me in, (Y/N)," Ben spoke, "I'm sorry, please let me talk to you."
Spencer whispered into your ear, "Go stand by the kitchen," and you did so.
Spencer then unlocked the door, then stepped as far as possible from the door, a few paces from you. He whispered to you, his head over his shoulder.
"It's open," he whispered.
"It's open!" you yelled, voice shaky.
When Ben walked in, his eyes went first to Spencer, then to you.
"What the fuck," he breathed, "You fucking bitch, you're cheating on me with this fucking asshole?"
"I'm not cheating on you," you spoke in a mousy tone.
"Oh, yeah? So you didn't fuck this guy?" he asked, stepping to get a better look at you.
"No," you spoke, not looking at him.
"Don't lie to me, bitch, fucking look at me," he stepped towards you.
Then, Spencer pulled a handgun from his pocket and pointed it at him.
"Don't fucking go near her."
"Oh my God, you're gonna fucking shoot me?" he laughed. "I'm a cop."
"I'm a federal agent, dick," Spencer glared intensely at Ben, your eyes stuck to Spencer.
"Oh, fuck, you're one of those BAU assholes?" he asked with a smirk on your face, "Well aren't you just a fuckin' angel?" He turned you, then says, "Have fun with this pussy, you're not worth the fucking energy." With that, he walked out, slamming the door behind him.
Spencer ran to the door, locked it again, then returned to you.
"This is just temporary," he whispered, "I'm gonna get him put in jail for a long time."
You stared at him for a long time, then in a hushed tone said, "I'm gonna shower," you paused, then, quieter, said, "Do you want to come with me?"
He stares at you for a moment, blinking, then asks, "Do you want that?"
"Yes," is all you say, then grab his hand slowly, interlocking your fingers, pulling him to your bathroom. When you get there, you take off your tank-top first, which you have nothing underneath. Then you pull down your jeans, then your underwear. Spencer watching this entire process, not moving a muscle but his eyes. They wander across your body, then settle on your hips, which have a faded yellow bruise on the side. He winces, but then is washed by the sight of your bare skin. You're exactly as he imagined: soft, firm, perfectly balanced.
He then began to unbutton his skirt, peeling it over his shoulders. He was tall, slender, sculpted, but gentle looking so much more beautiful than Ben. His belt jingled as he unbuckled his pants, then pulled them down with his underwear, too, leaving both of you bare.
He closed the proximity of your bodies to kiss you, his hands around your head. He then pulled away to rest his forehead on yours and rub his thumbs on your cheeks.
You stepped into the shower and he followed.
He didn't try to touch you explicitly. He didn't press you against the shower wall, didn't choke you or whisper sick things about you into your ear. He didn't press himself into you or turn you around to fuck you from behind.
Instead, he took a handful of shampoo and began to wash your hair.
He first pushed your head back so it was full emerged in the water pressed his fingers along your scalp, allowing the water to seep into all the strands of hair. Then, he lathered shampoo in his hands and began to wash your hair. He turned you around so you were facing away from him, but he didn't touch you anywhere but your head. You instinctively tilted your head back to lean slightly towards his chest, eyes closed. You could hear his breath hitch. When he was done, he turned you around again, then tilted your head under the water again. When your hair was fully rinsed, you brought your head up so your eyes met his. You then kissed him again. Your hands slowly, shaking, trailed down his chest to his stomach. You trailed your fingertips along his waist, then pulled him towards you by his hips. He lifted his hands to your face again.
He looked deep into your eyes with his dark brown ones and whispered, “I’ll never hurt you.”
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aperrywilliams · 4 hours
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From Now On (Spencer Reid x Pregnant!Reader)
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Author Masterlist
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Pairing: Spencer Reid x Pregnant!Reader.
Summary: After faking his death for seven months, Spencer is back just to find out you’re eight months pregnant. After the initial commotion and your denial, you both step into the apartment you used to share. Things have changed and you must talk about it.
Word Count: 3.3k
Warnings: Hurt/Comfort. Talking about gunshots, blood, hospitals, faking death, pregnancy symptoms, potential abortion. If I missed something, let me know.
A/N: I’m back! I don't know for how long, but I needed to do something to fight my writer's block. This story can be read independently, but it is the second part of Seven Months.
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The cab ride to your apartment is mainly silent. Your head is tucked into Spencer's shoulder as he rubs your back from time to time. His nose is buried in your hair, inhaling your scent. God, he had missed it so much. He had missed you so much.
And he missed so much of your life in the past seven months. And that scares the shit out of him.
How would he fit into your life now? Does he have any right after faking his death and not telling you anything?
Rossi and Morgan told him you would understand eventually. That you would forgive him for doing this to you.
And maybe you are really considering. Maybe that’s why you went for him to Derek’s in the middle of the night.
Spencer wants that more than anything, but he feels like he doesn't deserve your forgiveness.
Now you both are in front of your building complex. The one that used to be his too.
Spencer knows the concrete walls are the same, but they don't feel like they are.
It's a strange feeling. A feeling that gets stronger when you open the apartment door.
Stepping inside, he knows this is where he used to live, but it doesn't look the same.
The shelves are no longer full of his books. Gone is his globe and coins collection that usually laid over the desk. There are just a couple of pictures of him with you on the wall. The decoration is different. Did you paint the place? Spencer is almost sure of that because it looks brighter than he remembered.
He's silent, inspecting everything around him. The walls, the bookshelf, the furniture: all changed.
After you take off your coat and hang it on the rack, your eyes follow him.
You know what’s going on. You have known Spencer for so long. Even if you thought you lost him, you still can read him like a book.
“Hope isn’t look too bad. I needed to, you know, make some changes?” you explain, not sure how to put the last months in words. Spencer turns to look at you, guilt written over his face. He knows what your words imply and remorse eats him alive.
“I - I’m sorry,” he mumbles, sure it's not enough to erase the hell you have been through since he were gone. Since they told you he was dead.
“I know.” Your response is short but not because you don’t have things to say. It's because you don’t know how to start. “Uh. Would you like some tea?”
It's the safest path. The one you both usually have taken the times you had fought and then try to speak it off. It's different this time, though.
Spencer hesitates. In other circumstances, he would agree and sit on the couch to talk. But it's late, the day has been a rollercoaster and you are eight months pregnant. He knows you should be sleeping, or resting at the very least.
“Maybe it's better you go to bed? It's late and you must be tired,” he points, nervously fidgeting with his hands, his gaze shifts between your eyes and belly.
“Honestly? I don't think I could sleep tonight even if I try,” you confess, moving to the kitchen to put the kettle.
”I don't think I could sleep either,” he admits, following to the kitchen. He wants to help, but he doesn’t want to look like an intruder in your space. A space that it’s not his anymore. Noticing Spencer doesn't know what to do with himself, you invited him to take a seat on the barstool.
“It will be ready in no time, don’t worry.”
You are the one who endured months of grief from your fiancee, carrying his child, and you are the one comforting him. Spencer thinks it's not fair.
In silence, he looks with raptor fascination at the way you move around the kitchen. It's delicate and calm. You have a glow that captivates him. You don’t realize his gaze until you turn to put the mugs over the counter.
“What?” you question softly.
“You’re so beautiful,” he says, eyes entranced in you. You laugh, shaking your head.
“Come on, Spencer. I look like a mess. This belly reaches everything minutes before I can. It's huge! I can barely walk decently. Look at my hair! And my skin. It's sticky all the time.”
As you ramble about why isn’t accurate to call you beautiful, Spencer stands from the stool and rounds the kitchen counter to step in front of you. He wants to reach for your hands that you’re waving in the air to emphasize your point, but refrains. He’s still unsure about initiating physical contact. He rests his hands on the counter and clears his throat.
“I can certainly say it's not the way you are used to feeling. But the way I see you right now? I see beauty, power, and life. It's light what I see on you.”
You don’t know when tears started to roll down your cheeks. But hearing the adoration in Spencer’s words only spurs you to let out your emotions.
“You know my hormones have been doing a number on me, right? You’re not helping,” you complain, chuckling. After handing Spencer his tea, you take yours and walk to the living room.
You carefully sit on the couch and reach for the blanket in the back to cover your lower half. Spencer mimics your actions, sitting as well on the couch, but at a safe distance from you.
A silence envelops the room. Your hand plays with the strands at the end of the blanket, and your eyes scrutiny Spencer’s face. He looks tired, with prominent circles under his eyes, and stubble for days of no shaving.
He is analyzing you too. Even if your eyes denote exhaustion, he can see the strength that makes you look put together despite everything that has been going on.
He can see the protectiveness too. Rubbing your belly in soothing motions, shielding your non-born child from the unknown, the uncertain.
How much he would have given to be the one who could have protected you and the baby from the first minute.
“I guess you have questions,” you prompt. “But I have mine too, so if you don’t mind,” you trail off and Spencer understands what you want. He nods, preparing himself to answer whatever question you have. After a pause to collect your thoughts, you start to speak again.
“What really happened in that warehouse? Why you didn't let me go inside with you?”
You are talking about the day Spencer was shot and beaten for the unsub. The day he ended up at the hospital just to be declared dead hours after.
“I thought if we didn't split we could lose him. We were so close so many times. I thought it was our last chance. It never occurred to me it was a trap. That he wanted me there alone. I just didn't see it,” Spencer swallowed hard, remembering that day. You stayed in silence, waiting for him to continue.
“I heard his voice telling me he had you, and I panicked. So I ran to him. I let my guard down. When I realized he was lying it was too late.”
“But you launched at him. Why didn't you try to stall him first?” You asked, leaving your mug on the coffee table, feeling the suddenly urge to protect yourself with your arms around you. You never talked about what really happened with anyone. Not even to Hotch when he questioned you during the FBI investigation of the incident.
The way Spencer reacted with the unsub is something you never understood. The profile said the unsub was a guy who liked to show off, so trying to incite him to do that while waiting for backup would have been reasonable.
“The way he laughed. Maybe sounds stupid, but- I saw the resolve of an end game, and not like the typical bragging-end game, it was an evil-end game. He had the upper hand and he knew it. If I didn't do something first, he would have gone after you. And I couldn't let that happen. I didn't count on the hidden gun, though. Another mistake,” he breaths out.
You remember like it was yesterday rushing to the warehouse after hearing two gunshots. Once inside you saw Spencer lying on the floor, in a pool of blood.
“You were there and I didn't know what to do,” you recount your side of the story. “It was the worst nightmare. I screamed for help and it felt like an eternity before someone came to us. And your eyes-” You stop for a second, tears pricking the corner of your eyes. “You - you were saying goodbye and I wasn’t ready.”
Your resolve from earlier seems to crumble as you revisit what happened in that warehouse. Tears are now rolling down your cheeks, and you bite your bottom lip to stop their quivering.
Spencer wants to hold you, but he’s afraid of how you would react, so tentatively rests his hand on your knee. You are shaking and he’s worried this conversation could do more harm than good.
“We can stop. You are not feeling okay,” he points out. But despite Spencer's apprehensions, this conversation must happen now.
“I need to get this out of my chest. Please, let me do this. I know you need it too.”
Spencer knows you are right. You both need this.
“Do you remember anything after the shots?” you ask, and Spencer thinks for a moment.
“I remember being there, the sharp pain in the chest and my ribs. But most of it is a blur. I remember seeing you there. Crying. God. I hated seeing you cry. I think you held my hand?”
You nodded. “I was so scared, but with you there, I wasn’t anymore. The last thing I remember it’s the guilt of not saying I love you for the last time. I really thought it was the end for me,” he admits, his own tears blurring his sight.
“It was for me, though,” you mumbled, a sad look in your eyes. “I mean, I still had hopes when you were moved to the hospital, but deep down I knew I shouldn’t have had them. And everything shattered when JJ came to the waiting room and told us you didn't make it.”
A heavy sigh escapes from Spencer’s lips. Neither JJ nor Hotch had told him how they let it know the team he was ‘gone.’
“I can’t even imagine - It was unfair to you. And I know no matter what I say it won’t make it better.”
Your thoughts wander to the moment after you heard JJ saying Spencer was dead.
Disbelief. Pain. Denial.
And then, days of numbness.
“You know. I just shut off. I have some flashbacks. Rossi hugging me; Hotch telling me to take all the time I needed; Morgan crying with me.”
It feels weird to recall those memories as yours, like an alternative universe that turned different at the end.
“Where did you go?” Spencer asks. The thought of you in the apartment alone after that breaks his heart.
“Emily took me to her place because I couldn't put a foot here. I stayed with her for a couple of days. She helped me a lot to get through this,” you recognize. And for that, you will always be grateful to her.
You also tell Spencer about how the whole team helped you to make it through the days. Some kind of relief washes over him knowing you didn't face it alone.
He can’t fathom how difficult it was for you, also knowing you were pregnant. And about that...
“When did you find out?” He asks, eyes darting to your belly. You follow his gaze trajectory and a little smile creps on your face.
“Almost a month later. I was feeling sick all the time. Emily pushed me to get checked. They took blood tests and stuff. When they told me I couldn't believe it. For me, it was a twisted joke,” you admit, hanging your head low.
Spencer dreads asking the next question but you already know what is, so you keep talking.
“Yes. I had thought about it. I didn't feel in a good place to be a mom, Spencer. I barely could make it through the days. And having a baby? Fuck, just thinking about it was too much.”
You tell him about how you cried your eyes out. How lost you felt for days. The doubts about the future, but above everything, the protectiveness that aroused in you once the idea settled. Yeah, you couldn’t keep Spencer safe, but you were determined to save the part of him growing in you.
“And seven months later, here I am. About to give birth to our baby,” you conclude, lovingly rubbing your belly.
“It’s weird, you know?” Spencer begins. “The last time I saw you and now. It feels like I lost time. And I know I lost it. It’s just - I never expected to see things so changed. I don’t know how I fit here. What I’m saying doesn’t make any sense right now-” he trails off, darting his gaze to the fidgeting hands on his lap.
He’s been holding back. You notice. Since you both crossed the threshold he has been afraid of invading your personal space, of touching you. Now it makes sense.
“That's why you have been keeping your distance from me?” you ask. Spencer’s eyes quickly flash to you. Guilt is written on his face.
“What?”
Your gaze soften seeing him so stressed by being caught. It's true the past months have been tough for you, but they have been tough for him too. And to see a before and an after so different probably has him reeling.
“Since we put a foot in this apartment you have kept a safe distance. I’m not judging you, I really don’t. I just want to know what’s on your mind right now,” you explain, shifting on the couch to change your position. With an eight-month belly is difficult to be comfy in any position.
Spencer sighs. There are so many things revolving inside his brain that it’s not easy to put them in words.
“When I woke up in a hospital bed in Bethesda, the first thing I looked for was if you were there. But I was alone. A strange feeling squeezed my chest. For a moment I thought -” he pauses to take a breath. “I thought everything had gone wrong and the unsub had hurt you or the team, or both. I was about to freak out when a marshal came and explained to me what happened.”
Spencer recounts how the agent told him about his new destination and how this assignment was for an undetermined time.
“Since then, not a single day passed without the urge to take a plane and come back. To you. But what if I messed up putting you at risk doing so? It was insane to know I was dead for you and I couldn't do anything to fix it.”
“That's why you wrote the letters?” Spencer nodded. In a notepad, he wrote a letter to you every single day since he landed in Paris. He handed you the notepad at the BAU this afternoon before you stormed out, completely shaken and confused.
“I needed to put in words each day without you. I needed to tell you I was there, even if you never could read it.”
His shaky breath forces him to take some seconds to compose himself. You took that as your cue. Shifting again, you scoot a bit closer to him and reach tentatively for his hand, and he clings to it as if his life depended on it.
“And I’m here right now. And so do you,” you squeeze his hand reassuringly. “I’m as scared as you are, but we need to do something to get through this. If it is something you want to do,” you add. Spencer's glassy eyes find yours.
“It's all I want. Maybe it's hard for me to understand I can’t fix something like this, but I want a chance to make us work again. I know I can’t get back time, but if you let me I want to gain back the place I lost the day I gone.”
Spencer’s free hand flies to your cheek to wipe with his thumb the tears you haven’t noticed are falling.
“We can start with something,” you prompt, reaching for a folder resting at the coffee table. After opening it, you produce a bunch of ultrasound pictures and hand them to him. From the first appointment you had, to the last one from a week ago.
Spencer’s eyes sparkle with excitement, seeing every detail and the way the baby has grown in the past months.
Tears fall freely and there is pure emotion that fills his heart.
So many nights you both spent talking about what it would be like to have a baby. How wonderful it would be to see them grow. About what traits they would inherit from each of you.
You smile at the scene unfolding in front of your eyes. It feels so good to see in him the same excitement you have. You both wanted this. And until today you thought only you would get the chance to experience it.
After inspecting and committing to memory each detail from each pic, Spencer’s eyes find yours again.
“Do you know the baby’s-” he trails off. He’s unsure, maybe you didn't want to know or want him to know.
You have known the baby’s gender for a while now but have not told to anyone. From the same folder, you extract an envelope you offer to him. With trembling hands, Spencer takes it and gets the paper from inside. Scanning the words he realizes it is the information of your baby’s gender.
“It's - it's a girl,” he reads aloud with a cracking voice and more tears in his eyes. You nod, your own tears clouding your vision.
“Yes. Do you remember when we talked about having a baby and you told me you wanted a girl? When I found out the gender, I thought about how happy you would have been,” you sniffle, and Spencer reaches for you, now wrapping you in a loving embrace.
“Thank you. Thank you so much,” he repeats over and over, kissing your temple. You close your eyes, losing yourself in his chest, inhaling his scent.
You stay like this for a moment. Contently in each other arms. Spencer still can’t believe he got the chance to hold you again, and you are still assimilating the day’s events. It's unbelievable how everything changed in less than twenty-four hours.
“I love you,” he mumbles in your hair, a hand moving to rub your belly. “And I love you,” he says now, talking to your baby.
“We love you too, Spencer,” you respond, voice thick with emotion. “I never stopped, and we will never stop.”
Parting from your embrace, you get lost in each other's eyes. Communicating without words what this moment means to both of you. Cupping your face, Spencer leans to find your lips with his in a loving kiss. You kiss him back, pouring all your feelings.
It's a new promise of love.
After breaking the kiss, he presses his forehead to yours.
“Will we be okay?” he asks, almost in a whisper.
“From now on, we will be,” you assure him. It feels like you are telling this to yourself too. Maybe you do. Everything still looks messy right now, but life is giving you a second chance, and neither Spencer nor you is willing to let it go.
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