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sweatervest-obsessed · 1 year ago

Note

okay so i'm thinking post!prison reid and reader break up bc he's not ready to be in a relationship after everything that happened in prison. they just don't get back together bc when spence is finally ready it's been a while and they both think it's too late and no one makes a move and they remain as friends UNTIL jj's love confession brings some feelings back onto the surface - reader finds out about it and (cue jeid and their weird, longing glances🥲) has a whole it's all really over moment and then there's distance between her and spencer until there's a confrontation about it and BAM a love confession and second chances😁😁

THIS IS SUCH A MESS but i hope you get my point</33

Um yeah so, absolutely. Some angst for you indeed. I love a convoluted and angsty fight, especially whenever someone is arguing in circles with someone else because they're both just so passionate but angry, anyways, heheh, enjoy!!

WC: 1.5k

TW: Arguing, mentions of violence, mentions of prison, mentions of guns, honestly if you watched CM then that is your TW.

“I just want to know why you’ve been so distant lately. I mean, this is the first time I’m speaking with you one on one in over a week, and it’s because I manage to catch you in the office at nine fucking pm Y/n.”

"So what do you want me to say, Spence? What could I possibly have to say to you? I'm pretty sure Jennifer said everything there is to say."

This caused Spencer to lose all of the oxygen in his body. It froze up. You weren’t supposed to know what JJ had said, no one was supposed to know what JJ had said.

You and Spencer were in the bullpen of the BAU. Luckily for both of you, since it was so late, no one else was there. Neither of you were extremely public when it came to your relationship, which meant neither of you would have chosen to have this conversation fight in a public place, but no one else was around.

I want you to say something you're afraid to say. Something you'd never tell anybody. And you better make it good. Cause if it's not, it's going to be the last thing you ever say. What's it gonna be?

“How did you know about that?” He whispered.

“JJ asked Garcia to go through the footage, apparently she wanted to make sure no one could ever access the audio from it.”

"Y/n I--" Spencer closed his eyes, his jaw set. He didn’t even know what to say at this point. You had both clearly made up your minds about this, yet neither of you wanted to see the carnage, the outcome of it all. So, instead, you chose to stand in the middle of the bullpen, fighting against one another.

Fighting for one another.

"I just don't understand why you're so upset about this."

“Spencer–you didn’t even tell me about it, I had to find out about it from Penelope, and who knows who else she told. You were afraid to tell me, yet that giant genius brain of yours can’t, oh I don't know, comprehend just a teeny tiny little bit why this makes me upset?" For the millionth time this evening, you scoffed.

Something you would never say aloud, not even to your partner. Your deepest, darkest secret. Impress me, or I'll kill him.

"Y/n--"

Spence, I've always loved you. I was just too scared to say it before, and now things are really just too complicated to say it now. I'm sorry, but you should know.

"Fuck Spencer I have been in love with you since I first fucking joined this team." You gasped out. The air around your head got thinner and felt dizzying like you were floating through the air now that this was off your chest. "And I loved you when you asked me on a date. I loved you through Emily's death. I loved you when you asked me to move in with you. I loved you through when Morgan left the team. I loved you through Hotch leaving. I loved you through fucking Cat Adams. I loved you even after I came home one night and you were making out with her against our fucking door. I loved you through every single case and every single flaw. I loved you when you fucking relapsed a few years ago. I even loved you when you went MIA for weeks and then found out you were in a fucking Prison. And I still fucking love you now. But, instead of being together, you asked for a break."

"That's not fair..." He whispered.

"What? Respecting you and your boundaries? Knowing that you needed time to readjust after you had been released, and believing in your promise that once you felt ready to try a relationship again you'd come to me and talk to me about it? And then watching as you fall for JJ all fucking over again? With your stupid fucking glances. This isn't a goddamn tv show Reid, I can see when you both stare at one another across the room, I can see it."

"We don't.."

"You do. You both do. And then, you tell me that Jennifer fucking Jareau is willing to make her last words the fact that she has always loved you and has always been in love with you, and you---" Your voice froze, the sound cutting out. You looked straight at Spencer, not caring about the tears running down your cheeks. You watched as his hand twitched up. When the two of you were dating, Spencer used to wipe away every single of your tears. But now he wouldn't even lift his hand.

"I--what."

You took another breath, trying to calm down, and really think through your words. "This woman who has been your best friend for over a decade just fucking confessed her love for you, in a life-or-death situation, and you're telling me, that she just fucking made it up, pulled it out of her ass, or at least is telling you that she did and now the two of you are going to act like everything is normal and okay?"

"Y/n..."

"You were in love with her for years Spencer. And now, all of a sudden she confesses her love to you, and that changes nothing?"

"No, Y/n, it doesn't. It changes nothing. Does it hurt a bit? Yes. Does it change the fact that I love you? No." Spencer was trying to keep his voice level, hoping you'll continue to match his volume since he didn't want anyone to potentially stumble by and hear your argument. His hand reached for your wrist, but you couldn't bear to feel his skin against yours.

This caused you to let out a water laugh, tears sliding into your mouth, ugly but pouring down your cheeks. A waterfall of grief in all of its rawest forms.

"You still love me."

"Why-Why is that funny."

"I have been waiting to hear those words since you walked out of that fucking prison and the first time I hear it in years, it's because you're trying to justify loving someone else."

"That's not true."

Make it a million and one, you scoffed.

"I have loved you since the moment you first walked through those doors. You were in a pale blue pair of pants, and a black sweater--I remember it because Emily complimented the pants. I spend my whole life loving you and manage to never fully give you every single piece of love I have because there's simply not enough time in the world. I would kill for you. I would go to prison all over again if it meant you would be okay in this world." Spencer ran a hand through his hair, his voice strained. But his eyes never left yours. "Last week, when that unsub had his gun against your head, I fired before he even spoke, not because I assessed it was the right time or whatever fucking excuse I gave to Emily. I fired that bullet because if you died in front of me, I'd......The only thing I was thinking about the entire fucking time JJ and I were stuck in that room was how the fuck I was going to be able to tell you I love you one last time because I wasn't fucking smart enough to take my chance and say it to you every single day."

Your chest was heaving, but you didn't move towards him. It didn't feel right, it didn't feel real.

Spencer was able to take your hand in his, enclosing it between both of his, trying to get you to look at him. "I should have told you the moment I was ready to try a relationship again, but I thought you...I thought you had moved on because I wasn't worth waiting for."

This caused you to laugh again, eyes red from crying. "Don't fucking start with that shit Spencer.''

"I'm telling the god's honest truth."

"I waited for you throughout all of Prison. I waited for you through Maeve. I am still pathetically standing right fucking in front of you, waiting for you to hopefully realize that you still love me."

He kissed your hand. "And I don't deserve you at all for it."

"Do you still love her?"

"Y/n."

"Answer the question, Spencer. Or I'm done. I-I can't do this any longer, watching you....the way she looks at you just--"

Spencer pulled you into his arms, enclosing your body in his arms and kissing the side of your head. "I have always, and will always, love you Y/n Y/l/n. And I want to spend the rest of our lives proving to you that I would choose you, I want you, over and over again."

“That’s not an answer Spencer.” You whispered, rigid in his arms.

“I-I.” He closed his eyes. “I did. And I still do love her, but not like that. I haven’t been i-in love with her since the moment you walked through those doors.”

Spencer felt the weight of your head against his shoulder as you finally conceded and hugged him back, tightly. “Let's go home.” He muttered into your head, waiting patiently for you to hum in agreement.

Neither of you moved though. You both stood there, locked eternally in the other’s embrace, enjoying the peace you felt for the moment, even though tomorrow was a new day, where you would have to sort through how you really felt about all of this.

But tonight, you stood with your arms around your love, forever.

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misserabella · 6 months ago

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bloody and needy

just thinking about spencer being the kind of MAN that doesn’t care about blood. you want period sex? you’ve got it. that’s it. that’s the prompt.

cw: +18, minors dni!, period sex, blood duh, spencer being a service king, praising, lots of pet names and dirty talk, breeding kink, overstimulation, creampie, allusion to a second round…

it’s all a blur. you don’t exactly remember how or when spencer took off your clothes, but you’re laying completely naked over a couple of towels on your shared bed as his large fingers pump into your squeezing cunt.

“fuck.” and you’re moaning, cause it feels so fucking good you want to cry. it’s been over a week since you two have had sex, since he’d been away for a case, and just when he was finally coming back home and you hoped you’d finally get some release, that time of the month tagged along. so there you were, horny, desperate, and bleeding. but your boyfriend doesn’t care about blood. ‘it’s natural.’ he’s told you before. ‘tell me what you need and i’ll give it to you.’

so here you were now, legs spread as he adds another finger, your own in his hair tugging at the feeling of him stretching you so nicely… spencer kissed and sucked at your neck, his cock throbbing at the sweet sounds you’re making and the squelches that come from your cunt as he pumps in and out.

“spencer…”

“god baby, you’re so pretty like this…” he muttered, needy to be inside but waiting for you to give him the go ahead. his hand is a mess of crimson but he pays no mind to it.

“need you.” you breathe out, your back arching as his lips latched to your nipples.

“yeah? you need me?” he lapped at one of them and you nodded, whimpering. “should i take my fingers out then?” you nodded once again, but still whined at the loss of pleasure. “i know, i know baby. so needy for me.” he was quick to make work of his clothes, throwing them aside with your own and positioning himself in between your legs.

your hips and legs trembled when the tip of his cock teased you, and his tongue wetted his lips at the sight of the face you made when it bumped against your clit. “so sensitive huh?” he smiled and you nodded, eyes hazy.

“feels so good…”

“im gonna make you feel better, angel.” he said as he pushed inside with one single thrust, what made you scream. “fuck. you’re so warm…” he gritted his teeth as he started to move, leaving kisses on your neck. “so wet for me. you feel like heaven, love. so good for me.” he praised as he fucked into you, your legs surrounding his hips and your nails digging on his back. “you needed this, hm? baby? you needed me to fuck you, huh? my poor pretty girl. i’ve always told you that you just need to ask and i’ll give you anything.” your cheeks blushed, and you whined. “see what being a good girl and speaking up gets you, baby?” he pecked your lips and you moaned at a partially harsher thrust. “like that?”

“harder.” you desperately asked and he complied, fucking into you at the same speed yet harsher. you couldn’t stop the moans and whimpers falling from your lips. “spence…”

“i know angel, you’re so sensitive, doing so good for me…” one of his hands found your clit, circling it. “you can cum, pretty girl.” you moaned, your back arching. it was almost too much, until the overstimulation faded and you were grinding against his touch and cock in a daze. “jesus. if you could see yourself right now baby, so fucking hot… gonna make me cum so hard…” you whimpered at the thought. “yeah? you want me to cum for you baby?” you nodded. “where?”

“inside. cum inside please.” you babbled, your whole body tensing at the approaching of your orgasm. spencer groaned.

“you want me to fill this pretty pussy? make a mess out of it?” you cried and hiccuped in answer, muttering a ‘yes’ that almost made him bust in the spot. “want me to get you round and pretty for me?”

“yes! please, spencer, please…!” you begged and he moaned.

“i’m gonna cum baby, gonna fill you up so much it’ll be dripping out of you for a week.” that made you unravel, the tight band in you stomach snapping as you screamed in release, moaning his name over and over. “fuck, angel, fuck.” he groaned as he felt you clench, and after three stuttering thrusts, he spilled everything inside of you, kissing you sloppily as he fucked the two of you through it.

after the two of you came down, he caressed your cheek. “you okay, baby?”

“more than okay.” you smiled, and he couldn’t help but do the same.

“i’m gonna go find something to clean us up, okay?”

yoy looked down to find his thighs and v line along with his lower stomach stained in your blood. it only made you throb and him hiss.

“or maybe not.” he replied as he felt you starting to rock your hips against his already hardening cock.

“maybe not.”

❤️🩸i’m on my period, SO WHAT

#spencer reid masterlist #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid criminal minds #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x fem!reader smut #spencer reid x plus size reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fanfiction #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x fem!readr

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violetrainbow412-blog · 2 years ago

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Fluff ☼

Angst ►

Smut *

Hearts ☼

An intern pesters Spencer to get his attention and you help him get rid of it a bit, benefiting in the process

Hearts part 2 ☼

Morning coffees become the special moments between you and Spencer, but you also discover that he may have more competition for his love than you expected

Bolinus brandaris ☼

Reid loves the gift you just gave him and the whole team can notice

Exchanged clothes Bolinus brandaris part. 2 ☼

A small act of kindness leads to a rather peculiar confession

Memories ► (☼)

The case of the self-appointed Fisher King comes with too many sentimental implications and you discover that you and Spencer had more in common than you imagined.

Between your arms (wife!reader) ☼

After a hard day Spencer returns to his safe place

Decoy (+16)

When you go after an unsub who catches students making out, the unit is called upon to resort to desperate measures. Or in other words, where you and Spencer become the decoy to catch a voyeur

A (not so) little secret ☼

Even though you and Spencer have kept yours private pretty well, one night the universe seems determined to let everyone know

Dear Theodosia (Dad!Spencer) ☼

Spencer stays one afternoon to care for your three-month-old twins and reflects on how much he loves them

White lies ☼

You meet Spencer thanks to a nice coincidence and you become recurring chess partners, but he leaves out a small detail

Andy ►

You and Spencer have to learn to deal with grief without losing your marriage in the process

Devil's night ☼

Spencer is excited about his Halloween plans and you join him

Wearing pink (bimbo fem!reader) ☼

Your boyfriend introducing you to the squad!

Emergency room* (exes to lovers) (+18)

Spencer forgot to mention that you're still his emergency contact. You wouldn't have had a problem with it if you weren't his ex of over a year and the hospital took you out of the bed because he had a car crash

Nocturnal ballads ☼

Your boyfriend is too tense and you imagine that a little dance and music will make him feel better

New look ☼

Directly based on "The internet is forever" (5x22), when Reid's wonderful but short-lived boyband cut appears for the first time

Cigarettes (hurt/comfort)

Spencer comforts you after you learn some bad news about your relationship

Birthday wishes ☼

Everyone seems to forget Spencer's 30th birthday, but he only cares that you remember it

Wishes fulfilled (BW part 2) ☼

After an unfortunate event, Spencer questions what he really feels about his childhood best friend

Morning surprises ☼

When you find Reid lying under his desk your heart stops, but it turns out he was just taking a nap

Wheels up (hurt/comfort)

Spencer has just been released released from prison and things seem to get complicated when Mr. Scratch attacks again. You want to know what's going on with your boyfriend, but when you confront him, you don't expect him to yell at you like he does

Hogsmeade (Hogwarts!AU) ☼

The whole group pays a visit to Hogsmeade during the winter, where you and Spencer end up having a pretty interesting conversation

Lovely Christmas 🎄

The entire team gets together to celebrate Christmas and Spencer gives you a pleasant surprise

Intoxication* (+18)

When Spencer and reader accidentally consume aphrodisiacs, it seems impossible to maintain control of themselves. It all comes down to who will lose their mind first.

SPENCER'S FLUFFTOBER 🎀

SPENCER'S FLUFFTOBER 🎃

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #dr spencer reid #matthew gray gubler #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #jason gideon #JJ #penelope garcía #david rossi #emily prentiss #spencer reid masterlist

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spencerreidsrightsock · 1 month ago

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Spencer Reid P! links

18+ mdni!

You have to be logged in on x to see these. If anyone has any videos they want to be added send the links to my inbox!!

Size kink and prone bone

Spencer toying with your cunt then cumming on you

Riding Spencer til he cums in you

Spencer fingering you in doggy style

Spencer eating you out

Missionary with Spencer

Spencer playing with your pussy

Spencer fingering you

#spencer reid #spencer reid masterlist #spencer reid smut #criminal minds masterlist #criminal minds smut #spencerreidsrightsock #spencerreidnsfw #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #p links #plinks #criminalmindsplink #spencerreidplink

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hereforhalstead · 9 months ago

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no but what about Spencer x reader where you’ve had an argument about something stupid but you insist on sleeping on the sofa so you can both ‘cool down’

you spend hours trying to sleep but both of you struggle to sleep without the other tucked into their side so it feels pointless, but you refuse to take yourself up to bed and let him feel like he’s won

it feels like it should be nearly morning when you feel the spot next to you dip, followed by an arm being slung round your waist and a gentle nudge to have your head buried into the crook of a neck

you peel your eyes open, to see Spencer running his fingertips lightly along your arm as he leans his head on top of yours

‘We can go back to arguing in the morning but I can’t take another second without you next to me’

UGH

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spencerfuckngreid · 3 months ago

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Burning Up || Spencer Reid + 18

· Pairing: Spencer Reid/Reader · Category: Angst, Smut · Warning: Soft sex, happy ending. · Words: 3082 · Summary : A tension exists between you and Spencer. He actively resists and maintains distance every time you come near. He has an internal conflict between what is right and what is wrong. · Inspiration: Song: "Burning Up" Madonna

· Spanish on Wattpad. English isn't my first language, be kind! · Masterlist · TikTok · C.ai ·

The room was charged with a subtle electricity that always seemed to build between you two. The rest of the team had already left to rest or go over leads in other areas, leaving you alone with Spencer.

You had tried to focus on the files in front of you—the photographs, the scattered notes on the table—but your eyes kept drifting toward him. Seated across from you, hunched over his notebook, Spencer scribbled something with the intensity of someone trying to find a logical way through chaos.

It was that intensity that drew you in—it always had. Spencer had an aura that made him seem untouchable, as if his mind operated on a level no one else could reach. And yet, the more time you spent near him, the clearer it became that there was something beneath the surface. Something vulnerable. Something passionate. Something he worked hard to bury under layers of professionalism.

"Don't put me off, 'cause I'm on fire."

The lyric echoed in your mind, and you bit the inside of your cheek to suppress a smile. The irony wasn’t lost on you.

"Y/N, are you listening?" His voice pulled you from your thoughts.

You blinked, realizing you'd been staring in his direction—though not directly at him. "Yeah, yeah… of course. What were you saying?"

Spencer frowned slightly, adjusting his glasses with a quick motion before pointing at the map spread out on the table. "I said that the profile suggests the suspect will likely return to where it all started. It’s a pattern that—"

"Uh-huh, I get that," you interrupted gently, leaning forward to get a better look at the map. "But what if that’s exactly what he wants us to think? What if he's breaking the pattern on purpose? I know it’s not typical… not a common choice… but at this point, we should at least consider it."

Spencer studied you, his brown eyes scanning you with curiosity. He always appreciated a fresh perspective, but this time, his gaze lingered a little longer than necessary before shifting back to the map.

"Do you wanna see me down on my knees?"

The lyric hit you harder this time, making you press your lips together. There was something about the way he always pulled back whenever you got too close that only made you want to push his limits even more.

"It’s a possibility..." he finally said, breaking the silence. "But the pattern is the only solid lead we have right now."

You leaned back in your chair, crossing your arms as you looked at him, frustrated. "Always so logical, Doctor."

"It’s my job," he replied without looking up, his attention still on the papers.

"And it’s also what keeps you safe, isn’t it?" The words slipped out before you could stop them.

Spencer’s head snapped up. "What do you mean by that?"

"You hide behind logic, Spencer," you said, leaning forward. "It’s your shield. But some things aren’t logical—you can’t just avoid them because they scare you."

He blinked, caught off guard by your bluntness, but before he could respond, you pushed yourself up from your chair. "I’m getting coffee. Do you want anything?"

He shook his head but didn’t say anything else. As you walked out of the room, you could feel his eyes on your back, and it only made you want to turn around and challenge him again.

"I'm burning up, burning up for your love," you thought, clenching your fists as you made your way to the coffee machine.

The words you had thrown at Spencer still echoed in your mind as you waited for the coffee to finish brewing. You had crossed a line, and while you didn’t regret it, you knew he wouldn’t just let it slide.

Back in the conference room, Spencer was exactly where you had left him—except his posture had changed. His back was stiff against the chair, and his pen, usually in constant motion, lay motionless on his notebook. When you closed the door behind you, he looked up, his expression more guarded than usual.

"What was that all about?" His tone was colder than you expected.

"What was what?" you asked, trying to keep your tone light as you walked closer.

"That whole thing about me hiding behind logic." Spencer stood up to face you, adjusting his glasses. "I don’t know what you’re trying to imply, but if this has anything to do with—"

"—you and me," you interrupted, setting your coffee down on the table with more force than necessary. "That’s exactly what it has to do with."

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, it seemed like he was going to argue. But instead, he looked away, his gaze dropping back to the papers. "There is no 'you and me,' Y/N. This is work, and the only thing that matters is solving this case."

The way he said it—so sharp, so final—should have made you back off. But instead, it only fueled something inside you, a need to break through that carefully crafted façade of perfection.

"Are you really going to keep pretending you don’t feel anything, Reid?" you asked, stepping closer. "That you don’t notice how the air changes when we’re in the same room?"

"What I notice," he started, pushing himself up from his chair, "is that you’re crossing lines you shouldn’t be crossing."

"That you want to want me, but you can't let go," you thought as you watched him. You could see the way his self-control tightened, as if every word was a struggle to hold his ground.

"Maybe those lines shouldn’t be there," you said softly, taking another step forward. You were close enough now to catch the light, clean scent of his cologne.

"Y/N, stop..." His voice was low, as if he were speaking more to himself than to you.

"I can’t stop." You moved even closer, forcing him to step back until his back met the wall. "And neither can you, so stop trying."

He lifted his hands slightly, as if to create some invisible barrier between you, but his eyes betrayed the war raging inside him. "This isn’t right," he said, his voice laced with an intensity that almost made you hesitate. "We can’t do this. I can’t do this."

But he didn’t move away. His hands remained raised—but he didn’t touch you, didn’t push you back. His eyes stayed locked on yours, and the tension in his body was almost tangible.

"Then say it," you challenged, your voice barely above a whisper. "Look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t feel anything. Tell me you don’t want—"

His lips parted, like he was about to say the words. But nothing came out. Instead, his breathing quickened, and his hands slowly dropped to his sides.

"That’s what I thought," you said, your tone victorious but laced with quiet softness.

Spencer closed his eyes for a moment, as if gathering every ounce of willpower. "This is a mistake," he murmured finally.

"Maybe." You leaned in just enough so that your face was inches from his. "But some mistakes are worth making."

Spencer took a deep breath, as if trying to steady himself, but it wasn’t working. "This can’t happen," he said more firmly, stepping to the side to put space between you. "Not just because it would be inappropriate, but because… because it wouldn’t work."

You followed him, moving back into his path, challenging every barrier he tried to put up. "It wouldn’t work? Or you don’t want it to work because it would complicate your perfect, structured life?"

"It’s not that!" The words came out too fast, too forceful. He immediately glanced toward the door, as if worried someone else might have heard. Then, in a lower voice, he added, "This isn’t about avoiding complications. It’s about doing the right thing."

"And what if the right thing doesn’t feel right?" you challenged, tilting your head.

"Then we ignore it," he replied, crossing his arms over his chest as if that could shield him from the weight of your words.

"Do you wanna see me down on my knees?"

The lyric echoed in your mind, giving you the push to take this one step further.

"You’re not as good at lying to yourself as you think, Spencer," you said, stepping closer again. "Not with me."

"Y/N," he murmured, and this time, there was something almost pleading in his tone. "Please, don’t make this harder."

"Harder for who? You?" You held his gaze, unwavering. "Because for me, this is simple. I know what I want. And what I want is standing right in front of me."

The color in his cheeks deepened, but his posture remained rigid. "It's not that simple," he said, though his voice no longer carried the same conviction.

"Why not? Why are you afraid of feeling something you can’t control? Why won’t you admit that you’re already feeling it?"

The silence that followed was deafening, and for a moment, you thought he might give in. But then, Spencer stepped back, putting the smallest but most significant distance between you.

"I can’t do this," he said, his voice low, as if each word drained his energy. "Not with you. Not now. I’m sorry."

Disappointment tangled with frustration, but you knew he wasn’t running because he felt nothing. He was running because he felt too much.

"Fine. Have it your way," you finally said, stepping back. "I won’t push you anymore. I just... I can’t pretend this isn’t happening. If you’re ever ready… tell me. But I won’t wait forever."

Spencer looked at you, his eyes reflecting the war within him, the battle he couldn’t put into words. He didn’t stop you as you gathered your things and walked out of the room.

Out in the hallway, you leaned against the wall, exhaling slowly. "I'm burning up, burning up for your love," you murmured to yourself, letting the song finish the sentence you couldn’t say out loud.

—

The hotel room was dimly lit, the only glow coming from the small bedside lamp. You had tried to distract yourself with case reports, but the words on the screen blurred into meaninglessness. Every time you closed your eyes, the confrontation replayed in your mind: the conflict in Spencer’s gaze, the way he said no… but also how he hadn’t been able to step away until the very last second.

"Unlike the others, I'd do anything."

The lyrics echoed in your head like a taunt, mocking your attempts to stay calm.

You got up from the bed, unable to stay still. There was something suffocating in the air, a mixture of regret and longing that kept you moving, as if pacing back and forth could silence the thoughts running wild in your head.

Across the hall, Spencer sat on the edge of his bed, elbows on his knees, hands clasped together. His hair was a mess, his glasses sitting on the table beside the phone. He hadn’t even tried to sleep—how could he, after what had happened?

He had gone over every word, every look, searching for a logical angle, a way to make sense of what had transpired. But there was no logic that could save him from what he felt: guilt, yes, but also an unrelenting desire burning beneath his skin.

"This can’t happen," he whispered to himself, as if saying it aloud could make it true. But even as he spoke, his eyes drifted toward the door, as if something—someone—on the other side was pulling him in.

At some point during the night, your paths crossed again. Maybe it was chance, or maybe it was inevitable. When you opened your door to step out for some air, you found him in the hallway, his face pale, his eyes dark.

"Spencer," you whispered.

"I needed… to walk," he said, though it was obvious he was looking for something more than that.

Silence stretched between you, thick with everything neither of you dared to say.

Until finally, he shook his head. "I shouldn’t be here."

"But you are." You took a step closer.

His gaze locked onto yours, and for a moment, both of you stood frozen, caught in a place with no turning back.

"It’s too much," he admitted in a breath, his voice cracking slightly. "I don’t know how to handle it."

"You don’t have to handle it," you murmured, stepping close enough that he could feel your warmth. "Just… go with it."

Spencer didn’t move, as if fighting every instinct in his body. But when he finally looked up at you, there were no more defenses in his eyes—only raw, consuming desire.

"I can't keep pretending," he murmured, stepping toward you.

"Then don’t," you whispered.

The space between you disappeared in an instant. His mouth found yours with a desperation that stole your breath, his hands gripping your face as if afraid you’d vanish. Spencer had always been methodical, in control—but in that moment, there was none of that. He was pure fire, everything he had suppressed finally unleashed.

Your hands clutched at his shirt, pulling him closer as you stumbled backward into the room. The door slammed shut behind you, but you barely noticed. All that mattered was the weight of his body pressing against yours, the way his breath mingled with yours, the low, ragged sounds escaping his throat.

"This is insane," he muttered against your skin, though his lips kept moving along your neck.

"I think you need a little insanity," you teased, breathless, fingers tangling in his hair as his hands roamed your back with a frantic kind of urgency.

For Spencer, this moment felt like crossing a line he had never thought he would. But in the end, he realized he had been standing on the edge of that line since the moment he met you.

The air was thick, heavy with heat. His breath mingled with yours, uneven, as his lips traced your neck, alternating between kisses and gentle bites that made your head spin.

"This isn’t—" he started, his voice a whisper against your skin. But there was something desperate in the way he touched you, as if he needed to feel you, to confirm that this wasn’t just a dream.

There was no time for more words. Spencer’s logic, his self-control, his professionalism—everything unraveled. With a near-violent impulse, you pushed him toward the bed. Clothes—an obstacle neither of you could ignore—began to fall away between kisses and gasps. Every movement was a battle, a push and pull between his deeply ingrained restraint and the undeniable force of desire. But now, in this space, nothing was holding him back.

Your body burned under his touch, and though he tried to keep his distance, his hands betrayed him, exploring every inch of you, his palm gliding over your torso, down to your waist, as if he was finally allowing himself to have you. This wasn’t the distant, controlled Spencer you had known. This was a man on the edge—of need, of madness—consumed by what he felt for you.

"Y/N," he whispered between kisses, his voice raw, as if clinging to your name was the only thing grounding him. "This... I can't..."

You didn’t let him finish. You silenced him with a kiss, deep and hungry, and he laughed into your mouth. There was no case to solve, no walls left to break down. Just the need to be together, no more excuses.

With a determined move, you pushed him back, taking control, feeling the way he yielded under your touch. Spencer was completely in your hands, and for the first time, he didn’t seem to want to fight it. His grip on your back tightened, pulling you against him as if he needed the physical connection, the proof that this was real.

"I don’t know if I can handle what I feel," he admitted, his voice rough with emotion. But when his hands found your face and he kissed you with a raw, burning intensity, it no longer mattered what he thought.

You moved with him, and the world blurred away. The softness of the bed beneath you, the heat of his body against yours, the way his lips trailed lower, leaving a path of fire across your skin... The rhythm between you was frantic, yet tender, as if both of you were trying to prove that this wasn’t a mistake, not like Spencer had tried to convince himself before.

Spencer paused for a moment, breathless, exhausted, looking down at you. "Y/N..." Everything was clear in that instant.

"Yes," you whispered, cupping his face, pulling him closer. And in that kiss, nothing else mattered. No words were needed. Everything between you finally made sense.

When the morning light filtered into the room, the silence between you had shifted. Spencer lay beside you, staring at the ceiling as if searching for patterns, lost in thought. Reality had changed—you had changed—and you both knew it. His mind was running a thousand miles per hour.

"I can’t... I can’t promise this won’t get complicated," Spencer murmured, his voice quiet but filled with the resistance that defined him.

"You don’t have to promise anything," you said, turning to face him, resting a hand on his chest, gentle. "What, you expect this to be easy? That sounds boring." You teased.

He gave a subtle, lopsided smile, and somehow it put him at ease, helping him come to terms with the situation.

The silence between you wasn’t uncomfortable. Neither of you knew what would come next, but for now, all you could do was accept it. The tension that had defined your relationship until now had transformed into something else entirely.

"You know you got me burning up, baby."

· Requests via DM ·

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vanteguccir · 9 months ago

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⠀⠀⠀⠀⁺ ♱ .ᐟㅤㅤ──────── 𝓣𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝓒𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒, spencer reid.

⠀★　𝖼𝗁𝗈𝗈𝗌𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗌𝖾𝖺𝗍, 𝗀𝗋𝖺𝖻 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖼𝗈𝖿𝖿𝖾𝖾, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖽𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝗂𝗇 !

ㅤㅤ❝ ㅤ it doesn't matter what she looks like.⠀I　mean,　she's　already　the　most　beautiful　girl　in　the　world　to　me　.

(⠀links⠀) ─── main masterlist

‹ 𝓢𝖯𝖤𝖭𝖢𝖤𝖱'𝖲 𝓞𝖭𝖤𝖲𝖧𝖮𝖳𝖲 › : : : enjoy !

01. period disturb　─　where Y/N's cramps decide to appear during the night, forcing her to go to the pharmacy to buy medicine; or not, that's Spencer's duty.

02. emergency contact　─　where Y/N is between life and death during a case, and the team needs to call her emergency contact, but she doesn't have one. Not until now.

03. god's will　─　where Y/N Reid is forced to watch her husband being tortured by a delusional and psychotic serial killer through a computer screen.

04. sleepless night　─　where Spencer finally has a night to sleep at his apartment with his girlfriend, but the current case doesn't even let him close his eyes, leading him to study the files until ungodly hours. But who said that Y/N can sleep away from him?

05. migraine　─　spencer has suffered from headaches since his teenage years, but nothing like the one he's experiencing now. When a bad migraine decides to hit him during his work time, Y/N is right there to help him, just like she promised she always would.

06. I wanna get married　─　where after JJ's wedding, a new certainty is born in Spencer regarding his relationship with Y/N.

#⋆౨ৎ˚ 𝒍𝒆𝒍𝒆 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌𝒔 #criminal minds #spencer reid #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x yn #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid criminal minds #doctor spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x self insert #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds masterlist #spencer reid masterlist #masterlist

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qlossytbh · 11 months ago

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𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 - 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 the time where you had just a little too much to drink after a party at rossis and spencer takes care of you

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 alcohol intoxication, drinking, reader gets sick, emetophobia, a bit of suggestiveness (?), lots of pet names, spencer’s a sweetheart.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 2.2k

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 suffering a bit of a writers block but i am on a roll lately. it’s like ive got all these unfinished drafts and i can’t seem to finish them ugh. im going through my request, slowly but surely!

𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

“Come on,” Spencer urged, wrapping a tight arm around you as you clung to his shoulder as if your life depended on it. God, your head was pounding and your own body felt like dead weight as you continued carrying yourself around.

You stumbled on your feet, too intoxicated to walk straight. The sharp stiletto heel that accompanied your dress was not working in your favor either, and they were frankly becoming quite painful.

“I need to sit down,” You slurred in a hushed yet collected manner.

“One second angel,” He whispered, reminding himself not to disrupt his neighbors.

It wasn’t your fault that Rossi's parties always consisted in a very sweet, very endless supply of the most exquisite cocktails you’d ever tasted. It’s not everyday you got to taste such bougie liquor and given your big sweet tooth, and Garcia’s pesky persistence to get you to follow along her alcohol tasting spree, all those free drinks were dangerous at your disposal.

Penelope had passed over this tart but perfectly sweetened strawberry drink she had encountered and you made the grave mistake of trying it. Just when the flavors melted in your mouth, you immediately made your way to the bar in search of your own, downing that one and three more in less than fifteen minutes.

In hindsight, that was a horrible decision. Spencer knew that if he had been glued to your hip, just like he usually was at these or any social event for that matter, he’d never let you drink as much and as fast as you did. He had nagged about something with rapid absorption and rapid increase in BAC— you were too drunk to remember any of the information he was dumping your way if you were being honest.

You began slowing down once the nausea and severe dizziness settled in. Usually, you knew your limits with alcohol. You knew how much got you drunk enough to loosen up, and you knew how much was too much, thanks to a few situations where you had to learn the hard way. However, something about the sweetness and the inability to taste any alcohol whatsoever threw you off your radar.

And here you are, dragging yourself against Spencer’s body and back into his apartment, too drunk to even walk and feeling like you were about to literally throw up any and every thing in your system.

Spencer pushed the door open, managing to balance you in his other arm as he unlocked the door swiftly. He walked in with you by his side, throwing the keys into the small metal dish by the door and now using both hands to keep you steady.

You remained quiet, trying desperately to focus on keeping the nausea down and not throwing up. “Spence,”

“What's wrong?” He asked, looking down at you as you dug your forehead into his chest, grappling at his shirt with a rough tug.

“I feel really sick,” The world around you was spinning and that pit in your stomach was getting harder to push down. He matted down the top of your tousled hair, tucking a few stray strands behind your ears.

“Do you need to throw up?” He asked, voice soft and comforting.

“I think so,” The nausea seemed to hit like a tidal wave, and all you needed was to lie down. You needed to lie down. Just the mention of puking was enough to get you to gag. Immediately freaked out and panicked, you gave a persistent nod, already pushing yourself off of him and making a very crooked B-line for the bathroom, knowing you were going to throw up.

Once past the bathroom door, you fell to your knees opening the lid of the toilet and hurling the contents of your stomach into it. You gagged, retching loudly while tears pricked the corners of your eyes and everything around you hurt.

Spencer followed closely behind, crouching beside you and pulling up your hair into a messy makeshift ponytail while his other came to rub comforting circles on your back, sitting through your discomfort by your side.

It was ironic really. Spencer had always been extremely opposed to anything germ related and this seemed to be his worst nightmare. If anyone knew about this, they’d probably not be able to believe how Spencer didn’t run in the opposite direction and quite literally ran right towards you and your germ related issues. Since he started dating you, he let certain things slide. He shared more of his personal space and didn’t mind if that included sharing things he wouldn’t tend to share around others.

He never thought twice about it if it brought you comfort. It came to him naturally, putting you and your comfort and happiness first.

You spit out the remaining acidic taste of bile into the toilet and groaned heavily. Your nostrils burned and so did the back of your throat, but all of the nausea was immediately alleviated from your system.

“Mhm, sexy,” You said, reaching over for a piece of toilet paper and wiping down your mouth. Spencer huffed a laugh through his nose, pressing a kiss to the back of your head. “This is embarrassing.”

“This?” He said, voice jumping into one of fake shock. You threw a glare over your shoulder and his face immediately melted into a sweet smile, rubbing your back with just a bit more clarity. “I’ve seen you in worse predicaments,”

“How do you feel?” You turned, resting your back against the toilet after flushing the contents away and turning towards him.

“I feel better,” You mumbled, screwing your eyes shut and attempting to blink away the tears and the burning sensation of your nose.. “But I probably look very disgusting.”

He tilted his head with a shrug, wholeheartedly answering. “You don’t look disgusting,”

“Liar,” You said with narrowed eyes, smiling playfully.

He shook his head with one of his signature smiles, those that tugged slightly to the right and crinkled the corner of his eyes just perfectly. He reached up, grabbing the empty glass cup that sat on the side of his sink, and was now filled with water. He handed you the glass which you took without complaint. “Drink,”

You drank down the whole glass, wanting to get the disgusting aftertaste out of your mouth. “Better?”

“Much,” You nodded, smiling up at him, feeling instantly better but still dizzy. “I feel like, rejuvenated or something,”

You reached back to push yourself up off the ground, only for Spencer to set a firm hand on your shoulder keeping you still.

“Give yourself a minute,” He told you. “You feel better after vomiting following excessive alcohol consumption mainly due to the removal of alcohol and its irritating effects on the stomach, but you need a few seconds.”

You hummed, picking at a rhinestone on your dress. “Does that mean I should expel all my stomach's contents everytime I overdrink to feel better?”

“No,” He narrowed his eyes at you. “You shouldn’t even drink enough to get to the point of having to throw up in the first place, love,”

“But those strawberry drinks were so good Spence,” You threw your head back with a pout.

“Yeah, yeah,” He dismissed with a playful tone. He hooked his fingers around your elbows. “Up,”

You steadied yourself with a tight grip on his shoulders and winced at the bright white light of the bathroom. He pushed you back, knocking the back of your knees into the toilet and forcing you to sit down on it with a soft thud. He crouched down and reached over to knead at the straps of your heel and promptly remove them.

He set them to the side and wordlessly moved into his room, grabbing one of his spare t-shirts and making his way back into the bathroom, where you watched him with weary eyes and a very sleepy but adoring smile.

Everything felt fuzzy but just seeing him work his way around you with such ease made your heart beat insanely.

“It’s not fair that you’re so pretty,” You voiced. Spencer opened his mouth to answer but could only mustered a stammered chuckle, blushing profusely but trying to resist laughing at the slurring in your voice.

“I’m pretty?” He asked. You nodded.

“Very,” He reached his hands out, grabbing yours and pulling you up.

“Is it okay if I take your dress off?” He asked, turning you around so your back was facing him. His fingers skimmed across your already exposed shoulders and back and everything felt so heightened that you shuddered at the ghost of his touch.

“Thought you’d never ask,” You said, shooting him a suggestive smile over your shoulder. He said your name with a warning, not faltering in the slightest.

“I’m kidding!” For the most part at least.

“Well, given since you can’t sleep in this dress,” His calloused fingers traced your shoulders in a soothing rhythm. “I brought you one of my shirts but I need to take off your dress in order to put it on,”

Your body seemed to feel magnetized to the floor, pulling your every movement down with a huge weight. Which was probably the alcohol having its effect on you. You felt stupefied but all you could think of was just how tired you were.

“That’s fine Spence,” You murmured, allowing his fingers to skim down your shoulders and towards the dress's zipper. Your eyes fluttered shut, trying to rest them while his hands moved around your back.

He pulled it down, all so gently and smoothly that you were growing even dizzier than you were with more than three cocktails in you.

“I love this dress,” You stated, watching as the sleeves loosened from your shoulders and began sliding down. The cold air hit your bare skin and you merely shivered as it fell and rested on the plush flesh of your hips.

“So do I,” He smiled, slipping his own shirt over your head. You huffed as he pushed the dress down your hips, allowing his shirt to fall over your upper body and cover you as best as it could while picking up the pool of fabric from the floor and laying it out against the toilet. “You looked very beautiful.”

You really did. The way that specific black sequined dress hugged your figure in every single angle and crease possible, flaunting off your body shape perfectly, made Spencer weak at his knees. He didn’t know how he didn’t drop everything the second he saw you to pull you elsewhere private and kiss you until neither of you could breathe.

“Looked? As in past tense?” You turned, facing him with a fake betrayal plastered across your features. “That’s rude,”

“You are insufferable,” He reached back, grabbing your spare toothbrush and putting a nice amount of toothpaste on it. “Now let me brush your teeth so I can kiss you,”

You surrendered your never ending teasing with a sigh, grabbing the hem of his shirt as he held your chin tenderly, brushing your teeth. Throughout the whole three minutes, you couldn’t hold back from allowing yourself to re-learn every single scratch and line on Spencer’s face, engraving its every detail and beauty into a small space in your brain.

Once he was finished and you had rinsed your mouth out with water, you were eternally grateful that the acidic taste in your mouth and lips had been replaced with a fresh minty one. “There,”

You hummed, pulling Spencer in by the said hem of his t-shirt and tilting your chin up towards him, smiling at him like an idiot. “Hi,”

“Hey,” His hands reached up, cradling your face tenderly in his palms, pouring any and every ounce of love he had in him onto you with a firm kiss.

“My legs are killing me,” You said, nuzzling your nose into his cheek and hugging his torso. He rubbed your back with a kiss on the top of your forehead. “I want to lay down,”

“I know but I need to get your makeup off, angel,” He murmured.

You groaned, needing to just get to bed or else you’d literally collapse “You specifically know that if you leave it on overnight, the buildup of makeup, along with dirt, oil, and pollutants that you collect on your skin throughout the day accumulates on its surface and can cause skin issues and breakouts.”

You narrowed a glare. “Yeah, yeah, I guess you’re right,”

“I always am,” He smiled proudly.

“Okay now you’re just pushing it,” He reached back, grabbing a makeup removing wipe from its respective package and dragging it very smoothly across your cheeks, lips, eyes and forehead— any part of your face he could get at. You shivered at the chilliness it gave your flared up cheeks.

Spencer was so gentle with you it made your heart swell in size at just how much attention and care he put into everything he did for you. If you weren’t as tired—and as out of it— as you were right now, you really would pull him down and kiss him anywhere (and everywhere) until your heart stopped beating as much as it was. Although realistically speaking the kissing would probably cause your palpitations to worsen.

He managed to get as much mascara off as he could but the waterproof substance stuck to the bottom of your eyes with a fierce grip. He tossed the wipe into the trashcan and quickly swiped his thumbs across the bottom of your eyes with a very docile brush.

“How do I look?” You said, narrowing your eyes with humor, knowing you probably looked absolutely disheveled. Spencer cocked a brow at you, reaching back and undoing the tie that held your hair into the gorgeous updo thing you had going on.

“Absolutely breathtaking,” He still said, pressing a chaste kiss to the bridge of your nose. His hands continued working at your hair, to which you let your eyes flicker close, resisting the uncontrollable urge to moan out loud as the pads of his fingers rubbed your irritated scalp soothingly.

“I’m sorry,” Your voice came out way more breathier than intended.

“What for?” He asked, letting his hands rest on the side of your neck.

“This,” It wasn’t exactly flattering— the state he had seen you in. And for some reason you felt embarrassed at the thought of him seeing you so exposed and in some shape or form. “I don’t know I feel like I made a fool of myself,”

He furrowed his brows. “I don’t know— I feel guilty that you have to take care of me.”

“But I love taking care of you,” He murmured, instilling such a delicate tone with you that it was impossible to feel uncertain about anything. “Don’t say sorry,”

He kissed you, perfectly, just like he always did. “If you say so,”

It was true. Spencer loved, absolutely treasured, moments where he could take care of you in his own special way. Be gentle and remind you just how much he absolutely loved you.

“Am I done now?” You huffed, slumping forward as all the bones in your body begged to sleep.

“Mhm,” He pulled back, scanning you entirely. “Good to go.”

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pathologicalreid · 6 months ago

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spencer reid and his gorgeous gentle teacher girlfriend

↳ teacher!reader masterlist

*two separate, continuous AUs

ִ ࣪𖤐 - angst 𐙚 - fluff

kindergarten teacher!reader

𐙚 kindergarten crush

↳ in which one of your students goes missing, the BAU sends the A-team to ask you some questions

𐙚 falling flat

↳ in which you call Spencer for help with a flat tire, and he comes to help with your car troubles - and then some

𐙚 fishbowl

↳ in which you offer to bring Spencer lunch when he forgets his at home, leading you to become an object of curiosity at the BAU

࣪𖤐 a long way to go

↳ in which your family breaks no contact and Spencer reminds you that you're doing the right thing

ִ ࣪𖤐 safe space

↳ in which Jack Hotchner comes to your classroom after spotting Mr. Scratch on school grounds

high school teacher!reader

TBD

#spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid masterlist #masterlist #margot's masterlists #kindergarten teacher!reader #teacher!reader #high school teacher!reader

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notlongtolove · 5 months ago

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sun makes the day new

it’s not the first time derek has called him during a night out, trying to rope him into joining the fun. the usual calls came with garbled voices passing the phone around, shouting ‘wish you were here!’, ‘just come out!’ and multiple slurred variations of ‘reidddddd’. but derek’s never called for help before.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader (second person, no y/n)

genre: fluff

content: bau!reader is drunk! and spencer takes care of her

word count: 3.8k

note: spencer taking care of drunk bau!reader fills a void in me... spencer is reading the olfactory ethics thesis from twitter hahahahhhaha

a line: You’re the only reason he’d ever go—and the only reason he’d ever go unwillingly.

Sun makes the day new. Tiny green plants emerge from earth. Birds are singing the sky into place. There is nowhere else I want to be but here. I lean into the rhythm of your heart to see where it will take us. - joy harjo

It’s not often that Spencer gets a night to himself. Well, he’s used to spending most nights alone, but tonight, he actually has the time to make a cup of tea, to tuck himself under the sheets with a new read, even light the candle Garcia had given him two christmases ago. Nights like these, quiet and uninterrupted, are few and far between.

“This thesis studies how literature registers the importance of olfactory discourse—the language of smell and the olfactory imagination it creates—in structuring our social world. The broad aim of this thesis is to offer an intersectional and wide-ranging study of olfactory oppression by establishing the underlying logics that facilitate smell’s application in creating and subverting gender, class, sexual, racial and species power structures. I focus largely on—”

And then his phone is ringing, cutting through the stillness. With a heavy sigh, he lifts it to his ear begrudgingly, but before he can say anything, pulsating music bursts through the speaker, forcing him to pull it away sharply and fumble with the volume.

“Reid! Hey!” Derek’s voice crackles over the line. “What are you—” your voice cuts in, loud and unmistakably indignant. “Are you calling Spencer—You’d better not be!” “I didn’t! I’m not—Ow!” A muffled struggle follows and then a sharp gasp. “You did! Oh, Derek Morgan, I’m gonna—”

The line cuts off abruptly, leaving Spencer staring at his phone, brow furrowed in confusion. He considers calling Derek back but hesitates, Derek’s a tough guy; he can handle you, even when you’re tipsy. So, he sets the phone down and tries his best to refocus on the article in his lap.

“I focus largely on prose fiction from the modern and contemporary periods so as to trace the legacy of olfactory prejudice into today and situate its contemporary relevance. I suggest that smell very often invokes identity in a way that signifies an individual’s worth and status in an inarguable manner that short-circuits conscious reflection. This can be accounted for by acknowledging olfaction’s strongly—”

But the phone rings again, breaking the distinct quiet of his room. Spencer’s eyes flicker with irritation as he picks it up, this time holding it a safe distance from his ear.

“Can you—Would you get off me—Can you hear me?” The music in the background has faded, indicating that Derek has stepped outside. “Stop! Garcia grab her—Sorry, you there?”

“Still here.” His response is calm but tinged with impatience.

“Listen, we’ve got a bit of a… situation.”

The words immediately put Spencer on edge. It’s not the first time Derek has called him during a night out, trying to rope him into joining the fun. The usual calls came with a mix of laughter, music, and garbled voices passing the phone around, shouting ‘Wish you were here!’, ‘Just come out!’ and, of course, multiple slurred variations of ‘Reidddddd’.

But Derek’s never called for help before.

“How bad is it?”

Spencer hears Derek take a deep breath, as though trying to steady himself before turning back to the phone. “Man, it’s pretty bad.”

“He’s lying Spence,” your slurred voice protests from a distance, teetering between laughter and the edge of a sob, “I’m just—Augh!” comes your muffled reply, followed by a struggle that’s half-heard through the line—something heavy shifting, a soft thud. “I’m just tipsy!” Spencer strains to hear the distant sound of hurried footsteps, heels on pavement. “I got her! I got her!” The clatter of keys and the rustle of fabric echo in the background.

“Sweetie you’re not tipsy, you’re—very intoxicated,” He hears garcia add, worry coloring her words.

“I’d say shit-faced,” Emily chimes in from the background, the amusement in her voice undeniable.

“She’s—” Derek mutters, “She’s pretty messed up, and uh—” He hesitates, the pause stretching into the silence. “She wouldn’t stop asking for you.” There’s an edge of exasperation in his voice. “How soon do you think you can get to 43rd and King Drive?”

This isn’t the first time Spencer’s been dragged out for a night he didn’t want. And it’s certainly not the first time he’s seen you drunk. In fact, if there were a Venn diagram mapping Spencer’s nights out and nights he was reluctantly pulled into, you’d sit squarely in the middle. You’re the only reason he’d ever go—and the only reason he’d ever go unwillingly.

Spencer rubs the bridge of his nose, already standing up, his eyes shut tight as he breathes out a shaky sigh. “I’ll be there in twenty.”

When Spencer pulls up to the address Derek had texted him, the group of you is impossible to miss. Emily is leaning against a lamppost, cradling what Spencer can only hope is her last drink of the night. Derek, propped on a fire hydrant is half-heartedly trying—and failing—to flag down a cab. Meanwhile, Garcia sits on the curb, gently stroking your hair as you rest against her, your eyes half-closed and face flushed.

“What did she have?” Spencer demands as he steps out of the car.

Derek, standing a few feet away, immediately tilts his head toward Emily, as though absolving himself of any blame. “Ask that one.”

Spencer’s eyes narrow as they land on Emily. She meets his stare with a guilty look. “Vodka, tequila, … a couple shots.”

“How many?” Spencer asks, countering her.

“I uh, lost count.”

Spencer blinks, momentarily speechless.

“Bar was half off,” Emily shrugs, as if that explained everything.

With a sigh, Spencer shakes his head and crouches down beside you, his focus now entirely on your slumped form. His gaze softens as he takes in your flushed face and half-lidded eyes. You stir faintly, murmuring something incoherent as he brushes a stray strand of hair from your forehead.

“She’s been this way for the past fifteen minutes,” Garcia says softly, her concern evident. “Poor thing, all that running must have really worn her out.” She pauses, a hint of disbelief slipping into her voice. “Y’know, I never would’ve guessed she’d be a running drunk.”

“Didn’t take her for a scratcher, either,” Derek chimes in, rubbing at a red mark on his neck. “Damn, the girl’s got claws.”

If he weren’t so worried, Spencer might have chuckled and launched into an explanation about the statistics behind why some people bolt when they’re drunk. He’d looked it up after the time he’d had to chase you down during your birthday last year, the last one left standing to wrangle you back home. But right now, there’s no room for humour.

Kneeling beside you, Spencer places a steadying hand on your shoulder. His voice drops low, calm and gentle. “Hey, can you hear me?” Your eyelids flutter weakly, a faint groan slipping past your lips as you lean ever so slightly into his hand. It’s enough to give him a sliver of reassurance, though not much.

“She’s definitely gonna feel that in the morning,” Derek chuckles faintly, stepping closer.

“Not helping, Morgan,” Spencer deadpans, his tone heavy with dry exhaustion. “Has she, you know—?” He makes a vague gesture, his meaning clear.

Emily jerks her thumb toward a couple of lampposts down. “Mhm. Barely made it out.”

Spencer follows the direction of her gesture, catching sight of a dark puddle by the door glistening faintly under the streetlight. He swallows hard, grimacing. “Right. That’s—That’s good.”

He adjusts his grip on your arm, bracing himself as he turns to Derek. “Help me get her to the car,” Derek nods, crouching down to take your other arm. “On three,” he murmurs, and together they hoist you up with practiced care. Your body is limp but pliable, your head rolling slightly as they steady you between them.

The motion stirs you, your eyes fluttering open as an irritated groan escapes your lips. “Stoppp—I can walk, I can—Morgan let go!”

“It’s me—Hey,” Spencer says, his voice calm but tinged with urgency. “It’s just me.”

“Spence?” The word is slurred, fragile.

Spencer’s heart clenches at the sound, his frustration momentarily giving way to something softer. “Yeah, sweetheart,” he replies, his voice low and steady. “I’m here. We’re getting you home.”

As the word slips out, he catches Derek’s eyebrow arching in his peripheral vision, the silent question practically radiating off him. Spencer doesn’t falter, his sharp, no-nonsense stare meeting Derek’s head-on. It’s enough to make Derek quickly avert his gaze, holding back whatever teasing remark had undoubtedly been forming on his lips.

You and Spencer weren’t together. But you weren’t not together either. Whatever it was, it wasn’t in any way that people could put a label on. Unspoken yet undeniable. It wasn’t something you or Spencer were particularly adept at explaining either, nor was it something Spencer felt the need to justify, not to Derek, and especially not now.

Your head lolls slightly against Spencer’s shoulder as they guide you forward, your weight shifting unsteadily between him and Derek. In Spencer’s presence, your expression visibly softens, sharp tongue giving way to sugar-coated phrases, the tension in your body melting away. It’s a stark contrast to the wild, uncooperative runner and scratcher the other three had described and had very obviously struggled to contain.

“You’re so nice, honey,” you mumble, your words slurred but filled with earnest sincerity. “Always so nice.”

“Definitely could’ve used your help thirty minutes ago,” Derek quips sarcastically.

“I was reading—trying to.” The annoyance clings to Spencer’s words.

“Right,” Derek lets out a low chuckle, “of course you were.”

“Seeeee!” You fawn, “Isn’t he the nicest?” You pause for a moment, your head tilting as if considering something profound. “And so handsome. Very nice and very handsome. The nicest and the handsomest,” you muse, your tone dreamy and matter-of-fact.

Derek snorts, his grip on your arm steady. “Don’t start,” Spencer mutters, his voice dry but tinged with something softer. The faintest pink creeps up his neck as you lean into him, your head pressing against his shoulder, seeking the comfort only he seems to provide.

It’s a chaotic tangle of limbs, with Derek flinching when your hand swings a little too close to his face—again. But they manage to get you settled into the passenger seat. As Spencer leans over to fasten your seatbelt, Derek leans against the hood of the car, smirking, “You know, Reid, maybe it’s time to retire pretty boy. Honey has a nicer ring to it, don’t you think?”

“I dunno, I prefer sweetheart,” Emily quips, her tone syrupy and teasing. “It’s got that rustic charm,” she drawls, throwing in an exaggerated wink for good measure.

Spencer rolls his eyes as he slides into the car, the door closing behind him. He hesitates, casting a quick glance at the others. “You guys… you have a ride back right?”

“Aw, would you look at that? The perfect gentleman. A one-stop kind of guy.” Garcia teases, mischief in her eyes.

“More like a one-woman kind of guy,” Derek says under his breath—Just loud enough for everyone to hear. It earns him a playful swat on the arm from Garcia.

Spencer’s face turns a deep shade of pink as he stumbles over his words. “That’s not... that’s not what I meant,” he says, running a hand through his hair. “I could—”

“Relax, Reid,” Emily interjects, gesturing toward the passenger seat. “Go get her home. We’ll figure ourselves out.” Spencer nods quickly, grateful for the out, though his ears are still burning as he starts the engine, determined not to look back at their knowing smiles.

The first time you brought Spencer to your apartment, you’d warned him about the stairs. He’d laughed it off, dismissing your concern with a grin, saying the three-flight walk-up wasn’t so bad—it added character, a touch of history to the building. “Besides,” he’d added, “did you know that having stairs in apartments likely means the building predates the widespread use of elevators which wasn’t all that common in residential construction until after Elisha Otis introduced his safety elevator in 1854?”

But now, hauling you up those very same stairs, Spencer is sweaty, out of breath, and cursing whoever thought a three-story walk-up in a brownstone was a good idea.

“One more step, just one more—there you go, sweetheart,” he says through gritted teeth, practically dragging you up those last few steps. “Now, where are your keys?” He pats your bag as he speaks, more to himself than to you.

“My—hiccup—my keys are—hiccup—in there,” you slur, pointing vaguely at the bag he’s already rifling through.

When the door finally swings open with a shove that’s harder than Spencer intended, it bangs against the wall, making both of you jump. You lurch forward, your balance teetering precariously, but Spencer is quicker, his arm darting out to catch you before you can topple over.

“Whoa, easy,” he says, his tone gentle but firm as he steadies you, his hand lingering at your waist to make sure you’re upright.

You hum in response, barely acknowledging his effort as you shrug off his support and make a beeline for the bedroom. Your steps are uneven, your movements sluggish, and before you can collapse face-first onto the bed, Spencer steps in again, catching you mid-fall.

“Uh-uh,” he chides as he props you back up. “How about we change before we dive into our nice, warm bed, huh?”

You blink at him, swaying slightly as you process his words. “Mm. Warm. I like warm.” You pause, and then, as if hit by divine inspiration, you blurt out, “Soup. I want soup.”

“Soup?” Spencer echoes, a hint of exasperation creeping into his tone. “No soup, honey. Not right now,” he says, heading toward the bathroom to grab a makeup wipe. But before he can make it two steps, your bottom lip begins to tremble, tears pooling in your eyes.

“But… I,” you whisper, your voice cracking, “I really really want soup.”

Spencer freezes, his defences crumbling in an instant as he sees a single tear spills over, streaking your cheek. Oh, how could he ever say no to you?

“Oh, baby, no, don’t cry,” he murmurs, rushing back to you, crouching slightly to meet your gaze. He cups your face gently, his thumbs brushing away any other tears that threaten to fall. “Okay, okay. I’ll make you soup, alright? Just... let me take care of you first, yeah?”

Sniffling, you nod, your tears beginning to subside. “And then soup?” you ask softly, your voice small but hopeful.

Spencer’s lips curve into a gentle smile as he brushes a stray tear from your cheek. “Yeah, baby. And then soup. Whatever you want,” he murmurs, his tone warm and reassuring. Spencer knows deep down that you don’t actually want or need soup—it’s just the fixation of the moment in your drunken haze. Still, he decides to play along for now, hoping that with time, the thought will slip from your mind.

Carefully, he helps you out of your clothes, his hands steady and patient as he guides you into one of his soft, oversized shirts. You mumble something slurred and incoherent about how impossibly comfy it is, and his lips twitch into a fond smile. “Yeah honey, you’re right,” he humours you, adjusting the hem gently, “Fabric softener really does work wonders, doesn’t it?”

Spencer reaches for a makeup wipe from your vanity, his movements gentle as he starts to carefully remove the smudged remnants of mascara under your eyes. His eyes nearly pop out of his head when he sees one of your lashes come loose, but then he remembers you’d mentioned wearing false lashes on nights out. Right, that makes sense.

After two makeup wipes—both stained with hues of browns, pinks and purples, smudged from your makeup—he lifts your limp head, checking for any remaining traces. Your doe eyes blink up at him, looking soft and pretty, but there's an obvious blankness behind them as you babble on about how handsome he is.

You’d once talked about something you watched on double cleansing, or was it triple? Better safe than sorry, he thinks grabbing another wipe to be sure. Once he’s satisfied, he sets the wipe down and brushes your hair back from your face. “There we go,” he murmurs soothingly, brushing your hair back from your face. “All done,” he says, his voice soft as a lullaby.

You smile drips with affection as you look back up at him, and for a brief, blissful moment, he thinks the ordeal is over. Then you whisper:

“Soup?”

Spencer’s face falls, a mix of exasperation and reluctant affection washing over him. “Soup,” he repeats, more to himself than to you. He sighs, but when he looks down at your earnest, pleading face, his resolve crumbles all over again. “Okay, honey,” he relents, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I’ll make you soup. You stay right here, alright?”

“M’kay,” you murmur, along with something incoherent, obediently crawling under the covers as Spencer tucks you in. And then you’re out like a light.

When you wake up the next morning, the first thing that hits you is the dull, relentless throb behind your eyes. The second is how heavy your body feels, limbs weighed down like lead, and you find yourself wincing as you shift under the tangled sheets. You’re not sure how you got home, you don’t know why your feet hurt so much either. And is that blood under your nails? You groan, clutching your temples in a futile attempt to block out the unanswered questions. Right now, all you know is that you need water. Desperately.

A sharp ache runs down your spine as you sit up, and you reach blindly for the water bottle on your nightstand. Your hand fumbles over the plastic, knocking it to the floor with a soft thud, and the sound only amplifies the pounding in your head.

“Hey, you alright there?”, Spencer calls out.

The unexpected voice startles you so much that you let out a sharp scream, immediately regretting it as the noise rebounds inside your aching head. “Ah! Jesus, Spence, you scared me!” you groan, pressing the heels of your palms into your eyes.

Spencer’s face, which had been etched with concern, softens into a sheepish smile. He’s sitting in the chair by your bedroom door, a book resting on his knee, clearly having been there for a while. “Sorry, honey,” he says softly, closing the book and setting it aside. “I was just... keeping an eye on you.”

You blink at him, still trying to piece together why he’s even here. “Keeping an eye on me?” you ask, your voice hoarse and thick with confusion.

“You were... a little out of it last night,” Spencer explains gently, standing up and moving to pick up the water bottle that had fallen to the floor. He twists the cap open and hands it to you, his fingers brushing yours for just a moment, steadying your hand.

You take a cautious sip, the cool water soothing your parched throat. “Last night? But you—you weren’t even there.” You frown, trying to piece the fragmented memories together. There was Derek, Emily, Garcia, shots, that weird guy who kept staring at you, more shots... Were you really that drunk? No, you definitely would’ve noticed if Spencer had been there, right?

Spencer’s smile is small, almost apologetic, as he moves to sit on the edge of your bed, his voice soft but direct. “Let’s just say you’re pretty good at keeping everyone on their toes. And, uh, backup was needed.”

“That bad, huh?” you murmur. “What did I do?”

It’s kind of more like what didn’t you do? Spencer thinks but keeps it to himself. He hesitates for a moment, as if he’s deciding how much to tell you, then speaks carefully. “I think it’s safe to say Morgan’s not exactly thrilled about the scratch marks.” He can’t help the small laugh that escapes, but it’s more for reassurance than amusement.

“Oh, god.” You groan and bury your face in your hands, the embarrassment rising in your chest.

Spencer gently rubs reassuring circles on your knee, steady and soothing as he tries to ease the tension evident in your face. “You were... spirited,” he offers diplomatically. “Nothing unfixable. Besides, I’ve seen worse.”

You peek at him through your fingers, surprised by how calm he seems despite everything. “I’m so sorry, Spence,” you say, your voice muffled by your hands. “Did I ruin your night?”

He shrugs with a small, reassuring smile. “Not at all. Kind of hard to be mad after you called me ‘very nice and very handsome’ at least three times.”

You groan again, your cheeks burning as you down another sip of water. Spencer chuckles softly, the sound light and comforting.

“How’s your head?” he asks, his voice gentle with concern, though the answer is clear.

A groan.

“Aw, honey,” he coos sympathetically, his arms opening wide in invitation. “C’mere.”

Too drained to move, you opt for flopping forward into his lap instead, your body feeling heavy and sluggish. Spencer’s hands immediately go to your hair, stroking it gently, his touch soothing. “Hurts, huh?” he murmurs softly.

You whine in agreement, your head resting against him as you let his fingers work through your tangled hair. He chuckles lightly, a sound that brings some small relief. “You hungry?” he asks, his voice still filled with concern, though it’s laced with a hint of casual care.

Another mewl escapes you, the idea of food nearly as unappealing as your pounding headache.

“You need electrolytes, honey,” Spencer suggests gently, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. “We’ve gotta get something in you.”

You peek out from the mess of your hair, an eyebrow quirked as you attempt a teasing smile. “So forward, Doctor Reid,” you try to joke, your voice sluggish. “At least buy me dinner first.”

“You know what I mean,” Spencer says as he jokingly swats your arm.

You huff softly, your eyelids barely staying open. “Can’t move,” you mumble, curling further into his lap, trying to escape the weight of your headache. “Don’t make me move.”

Spencer chuckles quietly, his fingers gently tracing the line of your hair as he speaks. "You've gotta move at some point, sweetheart."

You whine in protest, your body too exhausted to even think of standing. "An hour?"

"I'll give you 10 minutes," he counters.

"40?" you bargain weakly, lifting your head just enough to look at him through half-lidded eyes.

"20," he shoots back.

You think for a moment, the numbers swirling in your hazy mind. "30?"

Spencer's grin widens, body moving as you gently tug him closer. "Fine," he relents with a soft sigh. "But only because you called me handsome that fourth time." You roll your eyes as you shift to make space for him.

He slides onto the bed beside you, his body pressing against yours as he wraps an arm around you, pulling you into the comfort of his warmth. Your head rests on his chest as he tucks you in closer, his fingers running soothingly along your arm.

"Hey, Spence?"

"Hm?"

"Why’s there a bowl of soup on my dresser?"

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ hi if you're here! thank you for reading! feel free to like or reblog or comment or reply!

#spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #Spencer Reid masterlist #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer x reader #spencer x self insert #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader angst #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader fluff

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l0standn0tf0und · 4 months ago

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Spencer Reid ❀ fic recs p.2

part 1.

part 3.

♡ = smut, 18+ only

all those dreams where you’re my wife

spencer x adhd!girlfriend.

quantum fellings

out on the couch

making the bed

wedding night

low and found

hypothalamus

la vita è bella

sock drawer

marked up

orange

home

firsts

6 am

♡persimmon

♡hair pulling

♡wet dreams

♡do you believe me now?

All credits and support to original authors: @parfaitblogs @nereidprinc3ss @parfaitblogs @dronningreid @angellic4l @drowning-rabbit @siriuslylantsov @nachrosas @enderlovez @reginyani @springtyme @spxfav @reidrum @endearng @gf2bellamy @beelmons @anhedoniawrites @girlkisser13

masterlist

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gghostwriter · 11 months ago

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[On hiatus]

Hi, you can call me Pau. I’m in my 20s and a self proclaimed spencer reid writer and a closeted aaron hotchner girl. My askbox is always open for questions and yapping.

Disclaimer: All one shots and requests are written in fem!reader but my two series are fem!oc

You can check out my reading library for book recommendations!

Most recent fic: Pressure Points ↳ After a traumatic event, Spencer coaxes you back to the land of the living, right by his side

One shots

Angst

Death of a Love Affair [sad] ↳ The three times you understood and the final time you couldn’t. Still Alive for My Lover [happy] ↳ The four times Spencer brushes with death and the fifth time he’s reborn to find his way back to you Dead Man Walking [sad] ↳ The three times memories of his broken promises plagued Spencer’s mind and the final time he’s faced with the consequences Poison Me, I'm Fine [sad] ↳ Your choice of poison was Spencer Reid. Who knew he would kill you and set you free in the process Knots of Yearning ↳ Spencer lies by omission or in which Spencer acts like he doesn’t know how to tie a tie just to get you to do it for him A Series of Happenstance ↳ The three times Spencer loathed to see you and the one time he pleaded to Three's a Sideshow ↳ Spencer misses an important date and ends up paying the consequences How Three Became One ↳ In the aftermath of your failed make-up anniversary dinner, the third person in the relationship reaches out to you Emails He Didn’t Send ↳ Through a series of unsent emails, Spencer laments through the loss of his life.

Fluff

You’re the Risk, I’ll Take it ↳ The three times Spencer followed advice and the one time he didn't. Language of Devotion ↳ You caught Spencer learning a new skill—your native language One Single Thread of Gold ↳ The 3 times Penelope tries to solve a Spencer Reid riddle and the 1 time she (and the team) meet the reason behind all the changes. Camaraderie ↳ Spencer and some unwanted guests catch you singing at a bad time Wanted: A Gentleman ↳ Your lovely group of friends, Penelope, JJ, and Emily, set you up with your perfect match If You Love Me Right ↳ Emily asks an all important question regarding the next step of your relationship with Spencer Whispered Truths ↳ Your weekly reading club with boyfriend, Spencer Reid, has never been as sweet and life-changing as this night Lips of a Gentleman ↳ A spontaneous museum date alters your relationship with Spencer for the better The Language of Flowers ↳ Spencer prepares a personalized gift for his first date with you Level-One Intruder ↳ Spencer apprehends an unexpected but adorable trespasser Time Gave No Compass, Were There Clues? ↳ The three times fate brings you to cross paths with a certain handsome stranger and the one time he purposely crosses with yours Intruder’s Heist ↳ The inner musings of the amazing Mr Chewie, the good and the bad

Comfort

Deepest Fear ↳ Spencer wakes from a nightmare and you comfort him Out of Sunshine ↳ Having forgotten your dinner date, Spencer comforts his usually sunshine girlfriend Have Your Cake ↳ Spencer notices a change in you that he tries to address Time is a Fickle Thing ↳ Spencer realizes how important it is to occupy the present and be active in the little things Pressure Points ↳ After a traumatic event, Spencer coaxes you back to the land of the living, right by his side

Mini Series

A Series of Happenstance [1] ↳ Spencer Reid x House!Daughter!Reader One Single Thread of Gold [1] [2] ↳ Spencer Reid x Fashion!Reader Three's A Sideshow [1] [2] [3] ↳ Spencer Reid x BreakUp!Reader Wanted: A Gentleman [1] [2] [3] ↳ Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader [Inspired by Short n' Sweet]

Series

Entangled Strings of Fate - Fem!OC x Spencer [ongoing] Caltech, Pasadena - Cleo considers herself a woman of logic With an IQ of 158 and an eidetic memory, how could she not. But meeting Spencer, the boy genius to hers, had her believing in intangible theories like the invisible string and the fates itself. Now, if only he would notice the depth of her feelings. Trope - Friends to Lovers; Eventual Romance Last update - Sept 26 [chapter 8] ; Next update - tba

Yours Truly, Romeo - Fem!OC x Spencer [finished] Washington, DC - A string of grizzly murders and obsessive love letters causes Olivia and Spencer’s paths to intertwine. With a serial killer proclaiming his undying devotion to her and the thick tension surrounding her and her agent turned bodyguard, Olivia’s life is writing out like a contemporary love story that she, as a successful writer, could see herself publishing. Trope - Strangers to Lovers, Mystery, Romance

Requests.

💗 fluff || 💥 angst || 💧hurt/comfort

Hallucinate 💗 ↳ Spencer gets in one accident and thinks you are more than a friend. He believes you're his wife. Blackout 💗 ↳ Spencer finds you passed out on the bathroom floor Phantasmagoria 💗 ↳ Due to an injury, you mistakenly believe Spencer's your husband Birds of a Feather 💗 ↳ Spencer catches you drawing him and he shyly poses for it Bundle of Nerves 💗 ↳ You pass out during work hours and Spencer worriedly rushes to see you Ice Princess 💗 ↳ You take down an unsub and the team finds out a truth about you Sentencing 💗💧 ↳ Spencer (and team) support you during a court hearing His 💗💥 ↳ You visit Spencer in prison and he reacts to the lewd remarks thrown your way Cherished 💗 ↳ Spencer arrives home to a very sweet surprise Down Under 💗 ↳ Spencer questions your colorful vocabulary and it's meaning Cocoa Powder 💗 ↳ While Spencer is in prison, you discover a secret Eden 💗 💥 ↳ Spencer worries for his roommate [based on 'Eden' by Hozier] Curveball 💗 ↳ Spencer proposes in the middle of chasing an unsub Special Diet 💗 ↳ You, a certified wine connoisseur, say no to a glass of wine and in which the team reacts to Rewriting History 💗 💥 ↳ Spencer takes you as his date to his high school reunion In the Ether 💗 ↳ You and Spencer frolic in the countryside fields Lightweight 💗 ↳ Spencer introduces you, a professional wrestler, to his found family Intermezzo 💗 ↳ You made an unexpected move that crosses your path with a handsome stranger Cucumber Slices 💗 ↳ You invited over your boyfriend for his first official sleepover

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #criminal minds fic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid #spencer reid masterlist

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alana-reid-2005 · 10 months ago

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sweatervest-obsessed · 8 months ago

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Last, Last Time

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader (she/her pronouns)

WC: ~7.3k

TW: Angst, guns, violence, mentions of domestic violence, blood, swearing, depression, kidnapping, manipulation, self-deprecating thoughts, heartbreak, arguing, the grieving process, drinking, screaming, crying, sobbing, throwing up, being under pressure, and anything else that comes with a criminal minds episode.

a/n: based on S15 E6 - first date. I love u aubrey plaza <3. Also inspired by the song Last, Last Time by Boys Go To Jupitar. writing this was a little bit of a catharsis since it's one of the first things I've been able to write. I'm sorry I've been so m.i.a., i just moved to a new country and that has been a crazy experience. But to cope with that, enjoy some gut-wrenching angst!

Alternate Ending! Spencer Masterlist

“Spencer I won’t—I can’t keep doing this. I’m sick of arguing in circles.”

“Y/n…”

“I-I feel like you take me for fucking granted Spencer. All I do is work and then come home and wait for you to actually be able to, I don’t know, sleep in the same bed as me for more than four hours.”

The look in his eyes almost took you out but your heart had already been broken long, long before this argument. If anything, you were starting to feel this sense of freedom as you broke his heart.

“Please. Y/n. Just–I don’t—Just give me a few days to convince Hotch to let me have some time off and we can work on this please.”

“Wait for the potential of us?”

Spencer’s jaw loosened. You couldn’t read beyond the initial layer of pain and confusion, which made your chest ache since not too long ago you could have been able to find everything you needed in his expression.

“God Spencer this can’t be fucking news to you. We’ve been drifting apart for months now.”

“I know, I know. You have been so patient with me and I’ve just been….there was that whole thing with Cat and then….I-I was trying so hard y/n…”

“No, first there was that whole thing with Maeve.”

“That’s not fair—”

“Oh that’s not fair? Really? You’re going to tell me the entire Maeve thing isn’t fair to you?”

“I’m sorry.”

You sighed and closed your eyes. “I’m not saying you weren’t trying but come one Spencer. There’s no need to deny this shit anymore. I hate it when you lie to me about these kinds of things.”

Spencer’s hand came up to his face and it dragged down, aging him significantly with the fatigue written all over his face.

“So you’re just going to pack up everything, break my heart, and leave? Were you even going to say goodbye, or was I going to come home to an empty home. A note or....”

“I-I don’t know Spencer. I just don’t…”

The tears were starting to creep in, and you had to place the box down before you lost it.

“This isn’t easy for me either…” Your chest heaved.

The both of you stood in silence, tension simmering surrounding the both of you like heat on a summer’s eve. Neither of you could really look at one another, but it felt wrong to look at anything else. Something was missing but you couldn’t say it outloud. You knew you would always love Spencer Reid but this time it was not enough.

“I’m tired of arguing Spencer.”

Your eyes met his. You felt Spencer’s arms around you before you could even feel the tears hit your cheeks. Your arms immediately went to his neck, so familiar. No longer home.

Spencer’s voice muttered into your ear. “Don’t cry Jolie. It’ll be okay..”

About three years ago, Spencer had decided that he didn’t like that you had nicknames for him, and he had none for you. He spent weeks workshopping different ones : Sugar, Honey, Pumpkin, Sweetheart, Darlin, Pookie, Lover, Sunny (like sunshine), Sunshine—it was a wild few weeks trying to figure out who he was talking to. Then one day, offhandedly, he was trying to tell you about this french film he had been watching, and trying to get Emily to watch with him.

He called you ‘tres jolie’, and blushing you had asked him what it meant. He told you it meant pretty.

And it stuck.

Now? It stung.

All you could do was squeeze tightly onto him, not ready to let go.

“You’re so pretty when you’re lying through your teeth.” You whispered after a few moments, pulling away out of his arms.

“I.” You swallow and step back, out of his reach. “Maybe I’ll...”

Spencer just looked up at the ceiling, trying to hold in the tears that were streaming down his face.

You grabbed the last box on the counter and your keys, and walked out, for the last time.

You awoke in your bed, eyes adjusting to the complete darkness the blackout curtains provided you.

Another fucking night thinking about your decision those four years ago, and how your life may have gotten better because of it.

Moving to get up from the bed, you decided to leave the curtains closed for now, feeling as if you could melt from the sun touching you.

You turned on the bathroom light and started your morning routine. Wash face. Take meds. Brush teeth. Fix hair—

Somewhere in that process, you got lost, and just stared at yourself in the mirror. You weren’t sure for how long. All you could do was replay the last four years.

Did you make the right choice? You were happy, you had your dream job.

Maybe it was true what they say, you can only have a career or love, but not both—

The only thing taking you out of this spiral was the ringer on your phone going off.

This caused some hesitation because your phone’s ringer was always off––the loud noise startling you. There were only a few people who had that emergency bypass, and none of them had called you in four years.

You peaked out of the bathroom and saw the name light up on your phone.

Emily Prentiss

______________________________________________________________

The door to the round room opened up and in walked Spencer Reid. “Catch me up.”

Prentiss clicked the remote, and the TV lit up with a picture of a woman smirking facing the camera while holding a gun up to another one next to her. “Early this morning, Garcia got an email from an anonymous server.”

The second woman was tied up, mouth slightly open, and eyes filled with tears, while a man on the other side just had his eyes closed, tired. .

Spencer just stared at the photo.

Rossi nodded at the picture. “She's not obscuring her face, telling us she's got nothing to hide.”

He never pulled focus away from the screen, mouth dry at the thought of what today was going to be. “Any ideas on the unsub?”

“No.” Prentiss sighed. “Only the unsub's demand. That we release Catherine Adams in 24 hours. I'm having her transferred here for questioning, but we have no illusions. This is just a game to her. We know that. The question is, do we want to play it or not?”

______________________________________________________________

Receiving a call from the FBI was not entirely new to you, since you had been engaged to one of their agents, but receiving one now? Weird. Off brand. Something was deeply wrong from them to have to give you a call.

You hesitantly pick up the phone. “Hello?”

“Hey Y/n, it’s Emily Prentiss—“

“I know who you are, Emily. It’s been a couple years, not millions.”

Emily hummed a brief laugh, and you could hear other voices behind her, unable to make out anything.

“I know this is hard to ask of you, but would you stay on the phone with me and come in?”

“What?”

“I need you to stay very calm Y/n, but I need you to stay on the line with me, leave your apartment as soon as you can, and get to the BAU.”

“Oh my god I totally forgot. It might take me an hour to get there with all this bullshit traffic, could we push the reservation an hour? Would they be willing to do that?”

Your entire tone changed, having remembered what Spencer had told you all those years ago about if people were listening into your apartment, if they bugged your car—all paranoia that didn’t pay off then, might be paying off now.

You were sure you could hear Emily sigh, and it sounded a little upset at the fact that you knew what to do–you knew how to handle a dangerous situation, which made her question everything in her life.

Quickly you pulled on a pair of jeans and threw a sweatshirt over your pajama top and grabbed your keys off of the counter.

You left your apartment, waved to one of your neighbors, and hopped into your car, still on the line, just trying not to panic. Maybe something went wrong, maybe Spencer wasn’t okay, maybe he had died—you refused to even acknowledge that thought and decided it was something else entirely.

It was a very tense hour of driving, that was only about forty minutes since you knew how to drive above the speed limit.

You realized that it was past midday, and you had taken full advantage of the weekend. So at least you had a decent amount of sleep under your belt for what felt like the beginning of an extraneous night.

As you pulled into the parking garage, Emily Prentiss and someone you had never met before were standing there waiting for you. You placed your car in park, hopped out and walked up to them–only hanging up as soon as you were out of the car.

Both of them had such grim looks on their faces, but at least they were trying to pretend like the situation wasn’t as bad as it appeared to your face.

Emily engulfed you in a hug. “Missed you Y/n. It’s been too long.”

“Well Em, next time I end an engagement with someone I’ll consider your feelings first.” You squeezed him back, dryly laughing at your own joke. At least it caused Emily to snort.

“Y/n this is SSA Luke Alvez. Luke, this is Y/n Y/l/n.”

“It’s nice to meet you.” He gave a small smile and nodded at you.

“I wish it were under different circumstances.” You nodded back and looked over at Emily.

“Let’s head inside?”

The three of you moved inside.

Sure, you hadn’t been here in a while, but you knew your way around the BAU Bullpen if your life depended on it, which was ironic since that was what this feels like.

As soon as you were safely in their round table room, Luke shut the door, and stood by it, Emily coming and sitting down next to you.

“What do you know about Cat Adams?”

That bitch.

______________________________________________________________

“I would like to go on a date. With you.”

Spencer stared at her, face stoic as ever. “A date?”

“Yes. I want to look pretty. And I want to have fun.” She looked him up and down. “And I won't even get physical, ok? Unless you want me to.”

Spencer sat down across from her. “Come here. Closer.”

Cat leaned in, a small smile on her face, absolutely intoxicated by being so close to him.

“The only date that I'll be there for is the one where they stick a needle in your vein.”

Cat scoffed. “You're just going to let her father and sister die? I don't think so.”

“I never said it was a father and daughter. You're already slipping.” He stood up from the table. “We'll find them. We always do.”

Cat leaned back and crossed her arms. “Not tonight. Tonight I win.”

His resolution had yet to change, “The score between me and you is two to zero. By tomorrow morning, it'll be a clean sweep. Enjoy eternal nothingness. It's a metaphor for your life.”

And with that, the door slammed shut behind him.

______________________________________________________________

Both the profilers watched a series of emotions run rampant across your face, before you settled on a somewhat displeased smile. “A lot.”

They exchanged a look, and you didn’t have the energy to pretend like you didn’t know what it was.

“Don’t start with me you two. I know profiling. I know what you’re doing. Ask me the questions you want to ask. Don’t try and trick me into giving the answers you want.”

Alvez bit his tongue and looked away, trying to hide a small smile that appeared on his lips.

Emily, on the other hand, hid her smile a bit better than him, but part of being previously engaged to a profiler meant you picked up on some of their tricks too.

She nodded and pulled a file from across the table. “I’m assuming you know the basics since she, uh, is obsessed with Spencer.”

“Glad to see he still has that going for him.” You muttered and looked into the file.

Emily shot Luke a look when he let out a huff or air, trying his damndest not to laugh.

“What is the last thing you know about her?”

You recounted the days leading up to the restaurant, and then the few days after, decidedly stopping short of the engagement breaking off a week later.

They shared another look, and you didn’t enjoy whatever it was that had moved across their faces.

“What? What happened?”

“Y/n..”

“No Emily, I drove from DC to here, I deserve to know what happened. without some weird sugarcoating, alright?”

Emily then begins to explain to you the past four years of Reid’s life. Cat pretending she was pregnant with his kid in prison, kidnapping his mother, framing him for murder in Mexico, going to prison—

“Spencer went to prison and none of you thought to call me….”

“We didn’t think you’d–”

“I’m a fucking criminal defense attorney in DC Emily. Of course I’d want to know if he was arrested, especially internationally. I know that law better than all of you. If someone I knew was kidnapped, I’d call you immediately. Faster than the cops.”

Both of them went silent.

“So is he out?”

They nodded slowly, silently.

“How long was he in there.”

Nothing.

“I asked. How. Long.”

Luke spoke up. “Three months.”

“Jesus christ.” You stood up and started to pace around the room, taking the time you needed to calm down.

Why didn’t Spencer call you—well you knew why Spencer wouldn’t call you.

“Okay so he’s out.” You said finally. “Why am I here?”

“Cat’s execution is coming up, and we….we found out that she’s convinced someone to kidnap some….people…close to Reid, and we knew you’d be on that list for him.”

Your eyebrows went up at people but said nothing of it. Just as you went to say something else, JJ knocked on the door, another blonde woman behind her.

They entered and JJ gave you a small, yet genuine smile.

You returned it, but quickly shifted your gaze onto the woman behind.

Your whole body shifted slightly, into a place of defense, locking your emotions down. You knew all the profilers were watching it happen in real time, which is why Emily walked over and stood next to you, a hand appearing on the small of your back as a comfort.

“Would someone like to tell me what is going on here?” The blonde woman spoke up, arms crossed.

At least Spencer’s taste in partners with attitude hadn’t changed.

______________________________________________________________

“Victimology is off.”

“How so?” Prentiss looked up at him as he walked into the room.

“Father and daughter. She’s never done that before.”

Lewis spoke up. “She usually kills men that remind her of her father. Children–even adult children, are off limits. Do we have an ID yet.”

Prentiss, Rossi, Garcia, and JJ all looked over at Reid, and he just pulled a hand down his face. “It’s. It’s Issac and Noelle Y/l/n.”

“Y/l/n…as is Y/n Y/l/n.” Tara looked up surprised at Spencer.

Reid nodded slowly, just staring at the picture on the projector.

While Luke spoke up. “Who is Y/n Y/l/n.”

“An old friend.” Rossi quickly interjected, before any more explanation had to be said. It was clear both Alvez and Simmons, that whoever this was, was an extremely touchy subject for Reid.

Tara, who had only known you for a little while, looked back at the picture.

Rossie spoke up. “What do we know about the partner who’s helping her?”

“It’s got to be someone from her prison.” Simmons spoke up. “She hasn’t had contact with anyone else.”

______________________________________________________________

After all of that, you found yourself back in a place you left four years ago. It looked almost the same as when you had first moved in, but there was less of it.

Almost as if he was having trouble covering places where things used to be.

There were almost no photos on the walls, since you had taken half of them, and were in the rest.

Calling someone you once loved a stranger feels wrong.

Max, as you had learned her name, was just sitting on the couch in your spot . She was looking around as you and Rossi stood by the kitchen counter.

“Cat had a cellmate named Juliette Weaver. We believe the two were working together, as a way for Cat to get something against Spencer, and as payment, Cat would get Juliette’s ex.”

You nodded. “How does this affect me?”

“She took your father and sister.”

Your back straightened and immediately brought out your phone, to call your sister, but Rossi just grabbed your wrist (gently) and shook his head. “If she finds out you know, then it’s all over. She’s doing this on purpose. She knows about you and Reid, but she knows that dragging you into all of this will hurt him more than anything else.”

His voice had gone low and quiet, so that the girl on the couch couldn’t hear.

“So why is she here?” You whispered back.

“Because we don’t want anyone in danger.”

You closed your eyes and nodded. “I need a cup of tea.”

Rossi let go of your wrist, and you walked into the kitchen, mostly eyes closed from the stress of the situation.

The apartment was silent, the others watching as you grabbed a kettle, and started to make tea. It was like second nature to you as you turned the stovetop on, grabbed a mug from the cabinet (careful to not grab one of his favorites), and grabbed some tea from the cabinet.

It didn’t dawn on you that you were drinking your favorite type of tea until the second sip, while the entire apartment was still silent.

The pity from Rossi's look was palpable.

“Don’t even start.”

He shrugged and stayed silent.

Until his walkie went off and he looked at Max. “It’s time. Let’s go.”

Rossi looked back at you and gave you a quick hug, squeezing you tightly. “You’ve got this kid. Remember everything we talked about.”

You nodded and gave them both a strained smile as they left the apartment, leaving you all alone in this place you once called home, alone.

Never once, since you left, did you think you would ever be back here. You didn’t even realize you were drinking from one of your own mugs until it was just you. The irony of it was not lost on you, and you sat down in your spot on the couch.

Well first you sat in Spencer’s seat but it felt too weird, so you shifted back into your spot on the couch.

______________________________________________________________

“Juliette staked out in Reid’s life. Found out he was dating someone, but then must have discovered his ex-fiancée.” Simmons sighed. “He was probably so focused on Max, he didn’t even realize that someone was digging into his history, following them around.”

Prentiss nodded as they walked and talked. “But if Juliette was able to find Max, that meant she was easily able to find Y/n and her family. It means she must have access to all of her publicly available information. “

“Well at least we found their hidden agenda.”

“No. We found Cat’s hidden agenda. Juliette doesn’t care about Reid. There’s something we’re missing here. Do a deep dive with Garcia.”

Simmons nodded at Prentis. “On it.”

“I’ll go to Reid's apartment and monitor onsite. Is there a trap and trace on his landline?”

“Garcia’s almost set up.” Simmons walked away from Prentiss, and down towards Penelope’s office.

“Well this went from bad to worse.” Tara walked up to Emily.

Emily sighed in agreement.

Lewis spoke up. “Female narcissists destroy their competition.Y/n really shouldn’t be in there.”

Emily just nodded and the two of them headed out of the bullpen. “Walk with me.”

Tara kept stride with her as they pushed through the doors. Rossi was just getting off the phone with someone and turned to look at the two women approaching him and JJ.

JJ spoke up when Rossi was finished. “So, the hospital just released the dad– Issac Y/l/n. He's on his way here now.

Rossi scoffed. “Question is, why let him go at all?”

“Matt's on that.” Emily gestures in the direction of Garcia’s office. “Juliette Weaver's real agenda should tell us where she's taking Y/n’s younger sister.”

Lewis spoke next. “I still think the play here is to get Cat and Juliette to contact each other, but I have no idea how.”

Prentiss crossed her arms. “I have a plan, but first we have to talk about Y/n.”

______________________________________________________________

Just then, you heard the click of the door, and stood up, watching as the door swung open.

And there he was.

This was the first time you had seen Spencer in four years.

And here he was, kissing Catherine Adams.

The woman you could give partial credit to for ending your relationship.

After a moment Spencer looked up, and took several steps away from Cat. His eyes were wide and locked on yours.

It took a lot of self-restraint to not punch the lights out of Cat, and to stand still arms crossed.

“Y/n?” Spencer’s voice broke a little bit.

You never would say that Spencer was unattractive. In fact, it would be a lie if you ever said it. But something about the past four years aged him like a fine wine.

His hair was a bit longer, he had some scruff—his baby face had melted away and standing in front of you was a man who thought you knew everything about, but was now a stranger.

You didn’t answer him, watching as he took you in, standing in his apartment, for the first time since…

“What are you doing here?”

You looked over at Cat, who had the most devious smirk on her face.

Remember what Prentiss had said to you.

“You know why I’m here.”

Cat nodded and the two of them moved into the apartment, the door closing behind them.

Spencer just stood ten feet away from you, eyes never leaving you, and you watched him right back.

Cat, on the other hand, was walking around, examining the apartment. You could see her take notice of the tea you had made yourself on the counter. You could see the hatred from the corner of your eyes. The two of you were starting to piss her off.

She spoke up, after a few moments of silence. “Did it make you mad that I was kissing your Fiancé?”

You shook your head. “No.”

Your focus had fully turned to Cat, but you swore you swore you could hear Spencer take a sharp inhale as you spoke your next words.

“Well, he's not my fiancé and I kind of have some other things on my mind.”

Cat didn’t scare you, but there was just something so off-putting about her. “Like what?”

“Are you gonna hurt Noelle?”

Cat shrugged. “Not if I don't have to, no. Honestly, if she follows instructions, she might even learn from this whole experience.”

You scoffed. “What does that mean?”

Cat just started fiddling with the chess set on the dresser.

“Spencer, what does she mean?” You turned to look back at him, his name feeling so good on your tongue.

Spencer, who really hadn’t stopped looking at you and sighed. “I think…She means that Noelle isn’t learning from her, but from Juliette.”

You sat down in your spot on the couch, arms crossed. You were on the full defense.

Spencer noticed where you sat and had to look down to conceal any notions of a smile on his face.

Cat watched him before turning and looking at you, some more disdain on her face than before.

“Normally, Spencie and I, we spend our time together playing games, but tonight, I've brought you all here to make a point. You are doing so much better.”

Spencer spoke up. “With you?”

“I'm not talking to you.” Cat snapped at him before she turned to you. “I'm talking to you. Because, girlfriend, you need to know the truth about your fiancé.”

“He's not my finacé.” You were unsure about how many more times you could say that outloud.

“No kidding. When’s the last time you spoke? Right…” Cat walked over to the center of the room, right in front of the couch. “Here?”

Your head whipped around to Spencer. “You told her about that?”

Spencer was pleading with his eyes. “I had to say a lot of things tonight.”

Cat’s voice caused your head to snap back to her. “Yes, he has. He said that you never compared to me, that, um... That no matter what, he will never get me out of his mind, unlike you. Unlike that girlfriend.”

You tried not to wince at the mention of that girl Maxine out in one of the trucks.

Spencer sat down next to you. “Everything I said—I was lying to save your family.”

Cat scoffed. “Did our kiss look like a lie?”

“No.” you just looked down at your hands.

“Thank you. See, now we're getting to the heart of the matter.” Cat started mocking Spencer. “You see, everyone thinks that Dr. Spencer Reid is... Is just this nice, bookish, uh, genius who, uh, always saves the day and has all the answers. And has zero mommy issues, right? But, um... I know the real him.”

“Oh, yeah? Who's the real me, Cat?”

“The real Spencer Reid throws women against walls. And hisses that he's going to kill them.”

Spencer stood up, squaring off against her. “That was a very different situation.”

“No, it wasn't.” Cat was holding the smirk back this time, making your gut wretch.

“Spencer…What is she talking about?” You looked from the psychopath in front of you, to the man you realized you might have never really known beside you.

“You tell her. She's not gonna believe it coming from me.” She huffed.

Reid turned and looked at you. “Two years ago, Cat had her partner kidnap my mother. Just like tonight. She got under my skin and…”

Your chest hurts. “And you threw her against a wall?”

Cat’s smirk was breaking through whatever resolve she had. “Don't skimp on the details, Spencie. She deserves to know everything.”

Every single time she said Spencie you swore a shock went up your spine.

Spencer looked down at his hands, and then over at you. His voice had gotten quieter. “She was pregnant at the time and I knew that when I hurt her.”

“And?” She stood there expectantly, waiting for Spencer to finish. When he didn’t, her face suddenly became solemn. “The next day... I miscarried. The end.”

Spencer looked at her. “That's not true.”

“It is most certainly true. Check my medical records.”

“That doesn't mean I-I would…”

Cat held up her hand to him. “Stop. Look.”

Spencer looked over at you, just sitting on the couch, trying to process everything that was going through your head.

After thinking about everything you had gone through, especially with Spencer. “I thought you were better than that Spence.”

It was the first time you had used a nickname for him in years. And he was hearing it for the first time while you were stuck in a standoff between himself and Cat Adams, your sister being god knows where.

Spencer’s voice cracked. “I'm sorry.”

Cat squatted down in front of you, a sick smile on her lips. She was enjoying this. She truly enjoyed watching his life crumble to bits. “Notice how your Spencie is apologizing to you and not me.”

You clenched your hands. “He’s not mine…”

Spencer just looked over at you.

Cat nodded. “That's good. Because men are all the same. Aren't they, Jolie?”

Spencer’s eyes lit up with an emotion you rarely saw from him when you were together. “Don't call her that.”

And you couldn’t blame him. The word ran you through like a spear and you were sure if you looked behind you, the blade would be through the couch. You tried so hard to not let either of the two people near you see how much it messed with you. Luckily for you, Cat was too busy pushing Spencer’s buttons to see the way her words won against you.

Cat hissed at him. “What, are you gonna throw me against a wall and choke me, or do you only do that to pregnant women?”

You finally spoke up. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because I want you to see it.” She gestured to Spencer. “I want you to see that he is...no better than he was before, or any man after. They’re all the same.”

“Stop.”

Cat squatted down in front of you. “I can see it on your face. What's his name?”

You stared back at her. “It's none of your business.”

That damned smirk of hers returned. “It is exactly my business. In fact, it's my specialty. I mean, I could have Juliette and baby sister go over there if you want. They could take care of him.”

Reid looked over at you. “Say yes. Give her what she wants.”

“Hmm. See, he wants you to get me to make a little phone call so they can trace it.” She moved away from you both and sat down in the lounging chair across from you. “They're so good, the FBI.”

You jumped up and started pacing, a spitting image of four years ago. “What is wrong with the two of you? What is this sick, twisted thing that you have? Listen, I just want to save my sister. Will you please just tell me what I have to do to do that?”

“Tell me his name. Tell me the story. That's it. And then if they can let Juliette exit stage right, then I promise you I will let her go.”

You looked between Cat and Spencer before walking over to the kitchen, and hanging up the phone. After staring down at the decision you had just made, you walked back over and took your phone out. “Here. Use this. Use my phone. They can't trace it.”

She just watched you. “You'd be surprised.”

“I don't even need a call. Just... just a photo.” You held the phone out to her. “Something to prove to me that she's still alive. Please”.

Cat just looked up at your face. “Story first.”

“Y/n. Please.” Spencer turned to you, hoping you’d look back at him. “I have been here with her before. She called the number and told the partner to kill my mom.”

“It is so tricky, isn't it? I mean, who are you gonna trust? The lying, cheating, violent psychopath... Or me?”

You looked down at the ground, refusing to look over at Spencer. “His…His name was Mike Davis. We dated for two years. I met him a month after we…we split.”

Cat’s attention on you felt as if there were a million bees stinging your body all at different intervals, pain coursing through your body. “Good. When did it end?”

“Last year.”

“Was he good in bed?”

Spencer stood up. “Shut up.”

Cat was enjoying this. She was enjoying watching you make Spencer uncomfortable. She was enjoying hurting him in every masochistic way she could. “What? You have to know where you stand.”

“He was good…” You looked back at Cat. “Good at, um, separating me from my friends and my family. Enough that the first time he punched me in the face, I didn't have anywhere to go. And my first response wasn't "get out." It wasn't "go to hell." It was "I'm sorry, Mike." That's when he knew he had me.”

There was a glint in Spencer’s eyes, and you could swear they were tears, but you couldn’t tell from rage or sorrow.

Cat continued to probe. “How many hospital visits were there?”

You showed her a small scar on the inside of your elbow. “None. No, he... He knew how to hurt me just enough to hide it all, I guess.”

“But you found the strength to leave. What did you do?”

“ I planned and I... I waited.”

Cat’s eyes lit up. “Waited for what? “

“I live here in D.C.” You looked between Spencer and Cat. “but I'm also a resident in Virginia. It takes 60 days for the permit to clear.”

Spencer’s eyes widened. “Y/n, stop talking. Stop talking right now.”

Cat shushed him. “No, don't stop. Here. Give me the phone. Look, I'm gonna enter the text. Stick the landing and I'll hit "send."

You handed her the phone and she quickly typed out a message, her thumb hovering over send.

Fiddling with your ring finger, you started to speak again. Slowly. Concisely. “When I was ready, I picked a fight. Loud enough for the neighbors to hear. And he came at me with his fist just cocked back, so I pulled my Glock 19 out of my purse. I shot him.”

Spencer tried to interject. “It was self-defense. He was attacking you—”

“That's what I told 911 as he was struggling to breathe on his kitchen floor. That's why the police never charged me. I’m a lawyer, I know how to plead.” You closed your eyes. “But I... after I hung up, I... I shot him two more times.”

Cat was glowing, spinning around to face Spencer. “Wow, you really have a type, don't you? Quite a dilemma, too. She just admitted to murder.”

Spencer was in disbelief. “She'll beat it.” .

“Probably. But whatever feelings she might have still had for you, and whatever Maxine might have seen in you—-it’s all gone.”

The phone in your hand buzzed.

“Oh, wow. Look at that. Your sister. Alive and well. You're welcome.”

Your face hardened up, and you stood up straighter. Walking away from the two of them, you opened the door. “I got it.”

She took the phone from your hand and you turned back to the two of them. There was no emotion behind your eyes as you looked back at Spencer.

Cat smirked and looked up at Spencer. “I win.”

______________________________________________________________

The prison transport was quiet, with the two guards sitting across from Spencer and Cat. It had been silent for about twenty minutes, but then, Cat spoke up.

“Do you know why I did this? Why I really did this?”

Spencer looked down at his hands. “You wanted to prove I'm a monster just like you.”

“No... Silly. I just wanted to see you again. I just wanted to make sure that you would never forget about me.” She sighed. “'Cause when they do put that needle in my arm, I just want there to be even the slightest chance that... Maybe you're still thinking about me…”

Spencer stiffened as she placed her head on his shoulder. “You didn't have to terrorize 3 innocent people. You could've just written a letter.”

“Would you have written me back?”

When Spencer didn’t respond, Cat knew her answer.

“Bye, Spencie. I really enjoyed our date.” She smiled at him desperately, getting dragged out of the vehicle by the guards to the prison.

______________________________________________________________

The elevator door opened and Spencer walked out of it, his whole body reeked of defeat, and he barely looked at Emily as she spoke. “We need to debrief.”

Spencer just walked right past her, and into the bullpen. His expression changed when he saw you on one side talking to Tara, and Max on the other, looking up at him right as he walked in.

“Spencer, are you okay?”

Her voice caught your ear, and immediately you looked up to see her walk over and embrace him in a hug.

He smiled at her, and grateful returned the hug before muttering that he would be back, and explain everything.

You were never going to get back together with Spencer, but watching it in real time was like unlacing an old wound.

Spencer walked over to you, and you stood up as he approached.

“Uh, Tara, would you mind giving us…”

She nodded at him and walked away.

Both of you went to speak, trying to say something to the other.

“I should explain all of this.”

Spencer shook his head. “You don’t have to explain any of that Y/n—it doesn’t.”

You cut him off. “It was fake—most of it. I didn’t kill anyone, Spence. I was just lying to her to get her to send the text from my phone. It was all…It was made up.”

He just nodded, staring at you really.

You gave him a soft smile, and gently placed a hand on his shoulder. Both of you could feel the pulse between it, making you remove your hand and take a small step back.

“Thank you for saving my sister and father.”

Spencer watched your resolve fully formed, masking whatever you were feeling. He hated watching it happen to him, watching as you placed whatever feelings you had back into somewhere he couldn’t find.

Garcia walked over and placed a hand on Spencer’s shoulder. “I just need you both to know, Cat Adams had a miscarriage, but it was months after whatever encounter you had. It’s not your fault. We looked at her records.” She was speaking low for you both, yet both of you let out a quiet sigh of relief.

“They filled me in on everything that happened between both of you in the past couple years, and they asked me if I would be willing to…help them beat her.”

Spencer looked up at you, and unlike yourself, every single emotion Spencer was feeling was racing across his face.

He didn’t like that you knew about everything that had gone down. He was so happy you were okay. He was a little impressed by the way you beat Cat at her own game. He was upset that you put yourself in danger.

“They gave me an ear piece and everything.”

Spencer shook his head. “You’re not trained—that’s extremely dangerous of you.”

You sighed and nodded. “Unfortunately Spencer, this is…this was the life I was used to when we were together. I knew the stakes. I mean the briefings I had with Hotch after you relapsed…”

Spencer just clammed up and stood a bit straighter. “ I never knew..”

“It was like that on purpose. I didn’t want you to think that you were a burden or too much or—I was doing it for the potential of…” You cut yourself of, flinching at the parallels between this and your previous final conversation.

You looked over at Garcia. “I need my bag Pen.” You whispered, taking a step away from Spencer. “I shouldn’t…I finished my job. My family is safe…”

She had a rueful look on her face, but she nodded and took your arm, walking you back over to the desk where your stuff was.

He looked up at Emily and walked over to her. “I’m…uh. I’m gonna go walk her out and then I’ll be right back.”

Emily gave him the saddest smile, and just nodded. She knew that nothing she could say could make it any better.

You grabbed your coat, and your bag, and the two of you walked to the elevator in silence, riding it all the way down to the parking garage, where your car was still there from this afternoon, all of those hours ago.

You looked over at Spencer, tears in your eyes, having not said anything to him.

As soon as he met your eyes, you dropped your bag, and Spencer wrapped his arms around you tightly, just holding you and resting his head on yours; trying to give you the comfort that he was rarely able to give you.

Sobbing into his arms, you just tightly wrapped your arms around his torso and just held onto him tightly. Trying to decompress, trying to truly understand everything that had happened in the past twelve hours.

It was Spencer who spoke first.

“I’m so so sorry Y/n.” He whispered. “I never meant any of this to happen to you, and for you to get dragged back here and—”

You shook your head slightly, but didn’t move from where you were. Neither of you did.

“It’s what she wanted, Spence, and unfortunately for us, this was always bound to happen.” You whispered.

The hug felt so good, but something about it was just so different.

It’s not the way it used to be.

“I need to go Spencer.”

He nodded, and this time you moved away from him. His hand came up and wiped away one of the remaining tears on your cheek.

You closed your eyes, and took a deep breath.

“Oh fuck, why is this so fucking hard four years later.” You laughed, trying to regain any sort of composure.

“Y/n…”

You took another step away from him and shook your head.

“We can’t—I’m not.” You tried so hard to find the right words without bursting into tears again. “Spencer. I cannot put myself back to where I was four years ago. I can’t do it. And yes things have changed, but maybe that is for the better. Maybe you were always meant to be my maybe, and not my always.”

You took another breath, but kept going. “You are amazing, and funny, and so smart Spence. But this…we ran our course. It didn’t work then, and I don’t know if I have it in me to try again just for it to fail.”

“Y/n please.”

“I will always love you but this…It’s time to…It’s time to stop. I have to go back to my life, and you go back upstairs to yours, with Prentiss and Rossi and Penelope and…Max.”

Both of you winced as you said her name, but you took a step forward, moving to kiss him on the cheek.

Spencer gently grabbed you face, giving you enough time to back out.

You didn’t.

His lips locked with yours, his thumb rubbing against your cheek as the two of you shared one more moment, just for the two of you.

But it had to end.

You couldn’t go back to the anxiety, the arguing, the petty disagreements. It wasn’t good for you. It was good for either of you.

Stepping away again, you gently kissed his cheek, and started to slowly walk to your car.

Right as you got to your car, you turned around and made eye contact with him one last time before the elevator doors closed, both of you with the most gut wrenching smile slightly plastered across your faces.

You mouthed goodbye, unable to speak it out loud, and he nodded, tears filling his eyes as he whispered it back to you.

The doors shut.

You were all alone in this hollow parking garage.

Your heart was aching, burning.

But there was a sigh of relief, that came with the doors closing, and saying goodbye for the last, last time.

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