Fic Titles: Song Edition
Softly we tremble tonight - Cat and Mouse, The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus
We're so happy (we could die) - Blood & Glitter, Lord of the Lost
There′s no remedy for memory - Dark Paradise, Lana del Rey
Love is the warmest colour - Nara, alt-J
We gotta stop pretending who we are - Don't speak, No Doubt
A force more powerful than gravity - Satellite, Lena Meyer-Landrut
They turned to dust (all that I adored) - Things we lost in the fire, Bastille
Lose all sense of time - Coastline, Hollow Caves
Sometimes quiet is violent - Car Radio, Twenty One Pilots
I′ll show you mine (if you show me yours first) - Swing Life Away, Rise Against
So beautiful and wild - Tonight, Reamonn
See your face lit by starlight - Colorado Sunrise, 3OH!3
Misunderstandings and words unspoken - Don't waste my time, Victor Lundberg
When we stole the night - Another heart calls, The All-American Rejects
The way that we love (like it's forever) - Happy Ending, Mika
But it's home to me - Boulevard of Broken Dreams, Green Day
Like memories of dying days - Savior, Rise Against
Electricity between both of us - Landfill, Daughter
I slept in last night's clothes and tomorrow′s dreams - Uma Thurman, Fall Out Boy
There'll be a riot (cause I know you) - Robbers, The 1975
All of your flaws and all of my flaws - Flaws, Bastille
Crossing all the lines - Girls Like Girls, Hayley Kiyoko
Misery's your master - She's the blade, Sugarcult
But we go where we want to - Lane Boy, Twenty One Pilots
Between the lines of fear and blame - How to save a life, The Fray
There's a heavy cloud inside my head - Lemon Tree, Fool's Garden
A very common crisis - Fluorescent Adolescent, Arctic Monkeys
Turn the light out, say goodnight - Fake Empire, The National
Let′s write a song that we can dance to - Jersey, Mayday Parade
There′s strangers everywhere - This isn't everything you are, Snow Patrol
A Secret Romance ~ Spencer Reid x Fem!Famous!Reader
Summary: A model and an FBI agent, the unlikeliest of pairs. And also the absolute cutest.
Warnings: Language, talk of future children, mentions of canon-typical violence
A/N: Transferred from my Wattpad of the same username:)
Your face lit up as your phone started ringing, he had promised to call when he could. He had been whisked away on a case just as you had to fly out to London for a shoot a week and a half ago.
You're a model, and because of this, you had to fly out to different locations all the time. Luckily, it had been slowing down. You were starting to pick up acting instead of modeling, it was what you truly wanted to do, but you never found something truly inspiring. Now you had, and you could stay in Quantico while filming. You just had to finish out one more week of your contract with this company, and off you went.
"Hey, Jerry, give me one second. I need to take this." You said after the camera flashed one more time. He nodded, muttering something about needing to adjust the lense.
"Thanks!" You rushed to your phone, grinning when you saw the little "S" you had put in as his contact name. You didn't at want anyone to see the name pop up on your phone and set out on a worldwide manhunt, interrogating anyone whose name was Spencer.
"Hello?" You answered your phone in a hushed voice, half jogging to your fitting room. As you walked in your stylist pointed at the hanger on the rack, mouthing 'Next outfit.' You quietly shut the door and sat down on the little couch in there.
"Hey," Spencer's voice came out kind of scratchy. You assumed it was because of the connection. He had to fly out to some rural town in the middle of Arizona. "How's your shoot going?" You could hear the tiredness in his voice.
"Good. Isn't it like two there? Shouldn't you be sleeping?" You teased.
"Yes I should be, but I wanted to hear your voice, and I didn't want too wake you earlier than you had to be."
"My shoot started at eight, Spence. I had to get up at six anyways. You should have called me then, I would have loved to get ready while talking to you." He let out a breathy laugh.
"I love you."
"Well I love you too, Spence." You whispered. "How's the case going?" He let out a sigh, trying to figure out where to start. You could almost see his face — pursed lips and drawn eyebrows, eyes looking out at some board he's been tasked with making.
"That bad?" You ask regretfully. Sometimes you hated your life. Felt guilty. You're out here taking pictures that people buy for thousands of dollars, while innocent people have to go investigate homicides. And the innocent victims of those homicides. "I'm sorry." You say softly.
"No, Uhm, it's okay. Just today, we found this nine-year-old girls body. It just. . . It really messed me up. This unsub is killing nine-year-old girls. Garcia was really messed up too. . ." You knew he wanted kids, and to be completely honest, so do you. You've talked about it before, and decided it would be best if you waited for even a little longer. At least until you've gone public. You really wanted to, but you also don't want Spencer to become a target for hate. He doesn't deserve it. "What — what if when we have kids," he grows quieter as he talks, "what if something happens to them?"
"We won't let that happen." You quickly told him. You wanted to reach out and hold his hands, to kiss his knuckles, tell him that you're ready to move in with him, that you finally can. That you want to spend the rest of your life with him. That you want to have kids with him. You want to tell him that right now. But you have to wait, you want to surprise him.
"I know, I know that less than one percent of kids taken are taken by strangers. I also know that because all of the people I know are FBI agents, it's not going to be one of them, and I know that the people you know are too wrapped up in their lives to kidnap a child when they could 'go have one implanted in them' or 'adopt a thousand dollar baby,' in your words. Though that isn't at all accurate." He recites everything you've said back to him, you've had this conversation with him multiple times over the last year and a half out of two years. Yes, that's very quick to start talking about children, but you've known from the start that it's only him you want and no one else. And fortunate enough for you, he feels the same way.
"Then you know that you shouldn't be as worried as you are about our hypothetical child, Spencer." You smile, though you know he can't see you. A knock comes at the door of your dressing room, "Hey, I have to go. I love you so much. You need to go to sleep before you die of sleep deprivation."
"Actually it takes much longer than just a day of losing sleep to kill you. One man in China actually died after eleven days after he stayed up to watch the European cup. Though there were other contributing factors of his death—"
Another rapid knock at the door.
"Spencer I have to go now. Please text it to me, I want to know. I love you so much." You rush out before yelling, "Just a moment!"
"I love you too." You could hear his smile, and then the dial tone that notified you that the call had ended.
"Come in!" You yell, throwing your phone down on the couch.
"Hey, Jerry's ready for the next photo. I'll help you with your next outfit." Leah pokes her head through the open door. You nod okay, and she comes in and unzips the next outfit.
After eight hours of more photos and costume changes, you're finally done and able to read the text Spencer sent you.
"There were other factors that contributed to his death, such as alcohol consumption, smoking, etc. So people aren't sure if that's an accurate measurement for the average person (who doesn't smoke and only drinks occasionally, like me)." You smile at the text, it always amazes you the random information he has stored up in his brain.
You, 5:32 PM: That's pretty interesting. I wonder how long it would take someone like you to die of sleep deprivation.
S, 5:34 PM: Well I hope it would take longer than eleven days, because I would love to spend the rest of my life staying up all night talking to you.
You, 5:35 PM: You're such a sap. I love you for it though.
S, 5:35 PM: I love you too.
You sigh as you enter your hotel room. You had to pack your things now, or you never would. You were flying out to Quantico tonight, thankfully no more shoots for the rest of the week. Which basically meant you're free from modeling. You smile at this thought. Your flight leaves in three hours, which means that you need to get a move on. You didn't want to be too early, but you also knew that you would likely be stopped and asked to take pictures.
It'll be a ten hour flight... But you'll arrive in Quantico at 11 PM. It's a mind fuck if you're tired enough.
It was hell getting through the airport, actual hell. The fans were alright, but the airport security was a bitch. You just wanted to get to Spencer's and sleep until he got home. Technically, you had been up for 24 hours. Got up at six AM London time yesterday, well technically today in Quantico, and it's six AM London time now. You were exhausted.
You, 11:02 PM: Hey, I just landed here in Quantico.
S, 11:06 PM: I'm about to take off. I'll be there in approximately three hours. I love you😘
You, 11:07 PM: I love you more😘
"Who you texting pretty boy?" Morgan teased, looking over Spencer's shoulder.
"Stop, stop." Spencer quickly turned off his phone, hiding it away from any teasing Morgan had to offer.
"Does pretty boy have himself a pretty girl?" Morgan patted Spencer on the shoulder as he walked past.
"What's this?" Hotch gave a hint of a smile and leaned over the side of his chair on the jet.
"I think Morgan just caught out resident genius texting a girl, 'I love you' with a kissy emoji."
"Hey! How'd you see that?" Reid's voice got high and accusatory as he yelled at Morgan.
"I was watching while you were texting her. Approximately three hours is when we'll be arriving, and I'm hoping we'll get to meet this mystery lady." Morgan confessed, making Reid's jaw drop.
"Y-you can't. Not yet." He quickly rushed out.
"And why is that, Spencer?" JJ had known something was up the moment Spencer had asked her to stop calling him Spence. When she asked why he couldn't do anything but stumble a storm. But what she didn't know is that once you and called him Spence, it sounded wrong coming from anyone else's mouth.
"Because you can't." He said, and buried his head in a book.
You walked up the stairs to his apartment while fishing for the key he gave you on your keychain. You found it as you came to the door, and unlocked it. You walked in, immediately basking in the homey feel the place had. With books strewn everywhere, the little wall that was actually exposed was painted a Sacramento green color. You loved his apartment. You trailed your fingers down the wall to his bedroom. You opened the door, and it was, as always, surprisingly more neat than the rest of the house. His books were stacked almost straight on his bedside table, blankets were messed up but it was welcomed. You wwanted to talk right into them, but you needed to force yourself to shower first. Get all of the gunk from the shoot and the Airport off of you.
You root through his drawers for some leggings you left a while ago, and a spare pair of undies. You don't feel like unpacking right now. You were just focused on getting in the shower.
You made your way to his closet filled with dress shirts, sweater vests', and adorable patterned sweaters. You pick out a purple one that smelled like him even after being washed and take it to the bathroom. You turn on the hot water, and undress quickly.
You step into the shower and the water feels amazing on your tired muscles. You are reluctant to, but you finally wash your hair and body, going over your legs once with a razor you keep there, before climbing out. You flick off the vent in the bathroom so you don't get cold but you feel goosebumps rise on your skin anyways. You roll your eyes in frustration and quickly pull on your bra and sweater, then undies and leggings. You finally allow yourself to sink into his warm bed, shutting your eyes for just a second.
When you open them, two hours has gone by. "Shit!" You exclaim. You need to leave now, or you weren't going to make it to headquarters in time to see him. You throw on some socks and shoes before grabbing your phone and keys, then jogging out of the apartment and down the stairs. You rush through the lobby, earning looks from the tired night shift workers. The doors swing open
You run out to your car and throw open the door, starting the engine as fast as you could. You pull out of the parking lot agonizingly slow, you don't want to get pulled over because you were spending on your way to a government building while looking like a wild animal. Okay, that was dramatic. But you drive as quickly as you could to headquarters. You pulled up to the gate, honking your horn at the half asleep nightsman.
"Hello, yes." You wave your arm at him as you catch his attention.
"Sorry about that ma'am. Identification?" You hand him your ID quickly stating all information he might ask.
"I'm here to see my boyfriend, Doctor Spencer Reid with the Behavioural Analysis Unit. No he doesn't know I'm coming, I'm surprising him but I'm there on his visitor list if you will so kindly check quick. He's here in half an hour and I want to be able to get him something from across the Street." The man looks at you with an exhausted face, confused but quickly types something in.
"Alright, thank you Ma'am." He hands you your ID back, and lifts the gate.
You drive through and find a parking space, then walk to the front of the building. You half jog across the empty street to the cafè across the street.
The bell dings as you come jogging in. "Hi I need one black coffee with a brick of fucking sugar, one blueberry muffin — the big ones," you make a big circle with your hands as you walk up to the counter, the woman was looking at you with wide eyes, "and one chocolate croissant please."
The woman turns around for five minutes, and comes around with your warm croissant, a blueberry muffin, and a steaming coffee. "12.72 please." The woman said.
You pulled out a twenty, and with a holler, "Keep the change," you were out the door. You rush inside the elevator as you quickly slowed to a walk, and jammed the floor number with your elbow. You bounced on your toes, feeling your phone vibrate in your pocket, and wished you had gotten a tray. Now you were stuck in the elevator with three items in your hands — one of them a hot coffee — and Spencer texting you, but your phone is stuck in your pocket.
The elevator dings and opens, and you rush to what Spencer has described as the bullpen, and you quickly find his desk. You set everything down on his desk, and finally relax, pulling out your phone. You sit in his chair, which you immediately have to fix.
S, 2:01 AM: Hey, I just need to drop some things off at the office really fast and I'll be right home after that.
You, 2:15 AM: Alright. I'll be waiting for you.
You pick at your croissant some, but ultimately you're too excited to see Spencer and meet his friends to be hungry. The elevator dings once more behind you and you spin around in his chair, watching as his team file out, each one looking at you with a different face. Ranging from smug, to confused, to startled, alarmed, and of course, recognition. A colorfully dressed woman stops, gasps', and squeals. "Oh my gosh, you're THE Y/n L/n. You're so pretty in person too oh my gosh. Spencer, do you know who this is?" She spins around and looks at your boyfriend. "Why is she sitting at your desk? OHMYGOSH IS SHE THE MYSTERY GIRL?" She asks' loudly. You smiled at him sleepily, and grab his coffee as you stand up. You walk over to him, saying hi to the colorful woman.
"Oh, God, Spence I missed you." You whispered as you handed him the coffee and wrapped your arms around his neck. His arms find themselves around your waist, and he squeezes you. "So much. I'm so sleepy. I got you a blueberry muffin." You say into his neck. He lifts you of the ground, handing someone his coffee so he can hug you properly. You had spent a week and a half away from each other, and you desperately needed his hugs.
You felt him smile into your neck, eyelashes fluttering against you. He sets you down, and hangs onto you for another second before letting you go. He takes his coffee back from an older man. "This is my girlfriend, Y/n, if you didn't hear Penelope." He smiled at you pridefully. "Y/n, this is Morgan, Hotch, JJ, Garcia, Rossi, and Emily." He gestured at them each in turn. The woman who recognized you was Garcia.
"Hi." You wave, suddenly extremely self conscious about what you decided to come in. Your hair was still half damp, and you were wearing leggings and an oversized sweater that wasn't even yours. His hand found yours and squeezed, reassuring you.
"I'm such a huge fan if you couldn't tell! Spencer I am so mad at you for not telling me!" She tried to sound angry but really she was still in awe of you.
Needless to say, the rest of the team loved you, and they were so happy that Spencer had found someone to be happy with. There was relentless teasing about Spencer having a type, something about this girl Lila Archer. It had hurt a little bit, knowing that Spencer had been known to have flings with famous women. But he had assured you that this Lila girl barely even happened. That he had barely known her and it was just the heat of the moment. It didn't make it much better, but you trust him.
Now you lay there in his bed, wide awake at three in the morning. You're laying on his arm, back against his chest. "You know, my contract with my agency is up in less than a week. And I don't have any shoots lined up before it's up, so I'm free for a week. After that, I'm moving to Quantico and I already have an acting gig lined up." You say, not sure what exactly you are wanting him to respond with.
He sits up slowly, "You're moving here?" He gestured for you to roll over, and you see his wide grin.
"Would you maybe want to move in with me?" Your heart seemed like it lifted, and you broke into a smile, nodding your head.