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g4rvez-r3id · 21 days ago

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I’m Here, Now

Post Prison! Spencer Reid x Girlfriend!Fem Reader

Synopsis: Your boyfriend, Spencer gets released from prison and you’re his first stop after dealing with Cat Adams and her schemes. And all he wants to do is see you and love you.

Category: Smut, Fluff

Warnings: 18+ MDNI established relationship, prison arc, spoilers of season 12 of Criminal Minds, it’s a lil sad tbh but it only lasts for a second, reader’s in disbelief, spencer and reader being cutesy, crying, kissing, mentions of bruises, threats, sappy speeches, fluffy ending, lowkey not true to 12x22/13x01 so this could be an au! smut warnings: soft!dom spencer (firm believer here🙋‍♀️), a lil body worship from reader to spencer, oral sex (m receiving & reader receiving), facefucking, cum swallowing, “good girl”, riding, unprotected sex, mentions of masturbation, creampie, overstimulation, spencer lowkey being a munch- that should cover it 😃

Author’s Note: hey lovelies, i can’t stop writing smutty oneshots ahhhh i can’t help it, i just love my man 🤭 i hope y’all enjoy this because i’ve had my mind on prison arc reid bc i’m watching s12 rn and oooo he so fine in 12a and in 12b 😩 anyways hope y’all like this <3

You worried that maybe he’d never come back. Upon hearing he was in jail in Mexico, you worried you’d never see Spencer again.

If your past self could tell you that your boyfriend, Dr. Spencer Reid, who was a nerd at heart, who spent his free time playing chess and reading and watching Doctor Who with you under your fluffy blankets and wore mismatched socks because he believed it was good luck, that he would one day end up being framed and sent to prison, you would’ve laughed in your face.

You never would’ve expected this to happen. But then you heard why. He was framed for murdering a woman named Nadie Ramos, who was helping him get his mother medicine that seemed to calm her from her episodes. If there was anyone he would’ve risked everything for besides you, it was his mother.

And to be honest, you were a little mad at him for lying to you. He told you that he was going to Houston to talk to some of his mom’s doctors. You’d been together four years now and not once did he ever lie to you until now. When he got transferred to the Milburn Correctional Facility, due to overcrowding, he’d requested to see you and only you.

It wasn’t until Spencer wrote you a letter, practically begging you to come and see you. The first time you’d gone to see him, you actually didn’t even recognize him, skipping over him and almost staring at him in confusion when he walked over to the other side of your plexiglass.

And you tried to play it off like you expected him, even while looking like he did, but he knew deep down you didn’t recognize him. He chose not to acknowledge it but you both knew.

And you visited him frequently, until he decided to cut you from the visitor log with no warning. You were hurt, to say the least. And you ended up avoiding everyone after that. You even ignored the many fruit baskets Garcia kept sending over but you kept sending them back.

But then a miracle happened.

They proved his innocence. And he was out.

You would’ve found that out if you’d checked your phone but you spent the entire day in bed, away from society and sobbing at the fact that he was gone and he wasn’t here, comforting you like he did so well.

You hated him, you hated him for putting you in this position, for making you deal with the aftermath, for pushing you away. But you loved him. You would never stop loving him, no matter how much you hated him right now.

You’d been laying in bed, tossing and turning all day as the TV played some random sitcom you watched every now and again. And you’d heard something. A soft knock coming from your front door.

You almost missed it but it was faint. And you heard it. Choosing to finally get out of bed, you opened your room door and walked to the front door. You opened it without checking the peephole, because at this point you’d had enough and just wanted death to get you over with already.

But death may have stopped your heart only for a moment when you open the door.

Because standing there, in the suit he’d gotten arrested in when his bail was denied, his hair outgrown and his stubble framed nicely on his face — was your boyfriend, Spencer Reid, in the flesh.

You gasped softly as you backed away from the door and stared at him, almost as if you were disbelief. You’d had a dream like this before. Where he came back and promised he was here to stay. (But it was another one of God’s cruel jokes and you cried when you woke up the following day).

He walked in and closed the door right behind him, standing tall in front of you. You noticed the bruises on his face, how his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed and stared at you.

“Hi.” He said softly and all you can do is stare at him. “Am I dreaming?” You find yourself asking out loud and his heart breaks. He can see that you’re scared. Scared that if you go up to him, he’ll disappear like smoke. And he hates that.

“No.” Spencer shakes his head and he waits for you to approach him and you do, walking slowly towards him as the floorboard creaks beneath your socked feet.

He waits as you first grab his hands, and interlock your fingers together. When that seems not to be enough for you, your hands move to his face. You caress the sharp new grown stubble on his face and drag your index finger to his plump lips and stare into his hazel eyes and they’re full of wonder and love.

You don’t even register the tears until you hold him in your arms and you hold onto him for dear life. He holds you tightly in his arms as you find yourself wrapping around him like a koala and all he can do is hold you back. And it grounds him, you ground him.

Your head moves towards his and you kiss his lips, like you’ve longed to do for three months. And part of you still couldn’t believe this, that he was here, holding you like you were going to break.

You kiss him a few more times before you pull back and ask with tears in your eyes, “Are you okay?” Spencer nods toward your forehead, “I’m okay, now that I’m here.”

“You’re here, now.” You look him in the eyes as you say this and he nods at your words, repeating them to himself. “I’m here, now.” It’s as if he’s reminding himself that he’s here with you because he’s worried he’s gonna wake up any minute and he’ll be back in that cell. You weren’t the only one who had a hard time believing this was real.

Spencer’s lips catch yours and he pushes into the kiss and you get back on the ground, your hands (or mouth) not leaving him for a second and making their way up to his hair and pulling. You whine into his lips as he you pull him by his belt and walk backwards to your bedroom with him following you.

With your strength, you twirl the two of you around and straddle him as you continue to kiss him. You rock your hips into his growing bulge and he moans into your mouth and you smirk in the middle of the kiss.

You begin to unbutton his suit and successfully get his blazer off and now next is his dress shirt but he’s quick to grab your hands and you look at him with wide eyes.

“Are you okay? What’s wrong?” You ask, willing to put a stop to this if he wasn’t ready. “Nothing, I just…” Spencer looks down as he lets go of your hands and seemingly now growing insecure all of a sudden.

He stands up from the bed and you look up at him as he holds his arms over his stomach. “I just… I got hurt pretty bad in there. You’re gonna see some bruises. I just don’t want you to freak out. He admits and your heart breaks, “You don’t have to take your shirt off. Or we can just stop entirely and—”

Spencer shakes his head, “No, it’s okay. You’re gonna see them eventually.” With that, he begins to unbutton his dress shirt and you give him all the time in the world to do so, not wanting to rush this at all.

When he takes off his dress shirt successfully, you finally see it. He has bruises everywhere on his ribs and some near his belly button and on his stomach. Some are still in the process of healing with yellow and gray hues and some are purple and mucus green.

“Oh, my love…” You whisper to yourself as you stand up and you turns him around and find more on his back and there’s just too many of them. You find yourself tearing up but you know you need to keep it together for him. Who could hurt your sweet boy? Was this why he didn’t want you to see him anymore while he was still in there? How long did this go on for?

It’s then that you register the bruise near his eye. You thought that it was due to the lack of sleep he’d been getting and assumed it was the bags under his eyes he so often got but it was a bruise. How did you miss that when he walked in?

He almost wants to hide himself, like a turtle under its’ shell and you look down at his body. “Baby…” You start but he shakes his head. “I’m so sorry.”

He looks at you as you guide him towards the bed and he lays back and you go back to straddling him, but this time, you’re careful as you hover over him.

You kiss his lips before making your way down to his neck and then to his body and it takes a second for him to register that you’re not just kissing his body, you’re kissing the bruises.

He feels himself getting choked up as you kiss every visible one and his heart swells for you. What did he did to deserve you?

You begin to unbuckle his belt but he rests his elbows on the bed and looks down at you. “You—You don’t have to…” He trails off but you quickly shake your head. “I know. But I want to. It’s your first night back. This is about you tonight, baby.”

Spencer doesn’t interfere, just stares as you unbuckle his belt and pull out his cock through the hole in his underwear and it springs into action, dripping pre-cum from the head. “Oh, my sweet boy. You must be so pent up.”

You kiss the tip of his dick and he shuts his eyes tightly as if he’s trying to hold back from already cumming. You lick up his shaft and fit his cock inside your mouth and he curses to himself as he grips your bedsheets as tight as he can.

You notice this, grabbing his hand and interlocking your fingers together, as if you’re telling him and giving him permission to touch you as you bob your head up and down.

He takes this opportunity to caress your face as you take him into your mouth. He ties your hair into a makeshift ponytail as he pushes deeper onto his cock and even lifts his hips to ensure that you’re taking all of him until you’re gagging.

“Let me know if it’s too much, okay?” Spencer tells you and you nod to the best of your ability until you begins to fuck your throat, using your mouth for his pent up pleasure. “Fuck… God, you’re so good at that. Letting me fuck your throat like the good girl you are.”

His words could make you cum on the spot without him even laying a finger on you. He rarely cursed in your domestic setting but he did it often when you two were in bed.

All you can do is take it as deep as it can go in your mouth. He whines into the ceiling as he says your name until you feel his hot cum dribble down your throat and your nose is buried into his crotch as he holds you there and makes you take all his cum into your mouth.

He pants as he releases your head from his cock and you swallow the rest of his cum. He looks at you with worried eyes, concerned that maybe he’d gone too far. “I’m sorry, baby. Are you okay? Did I hurt you?” He asks, like he didn’t just cum into your mouth and call you a “good girl”.

You shake your head at him with a small smile. “That was just about the hottest thing you’ve ever done.” (And everything he did was always hot). He blushes and crooks a smile.

“Are you willing to keep going?” You ask him and he nods with an immediate answer, “Absolutely.” He’d never let you go to bed without making you cum at least twice.

You climb on top of him with a smirk and look deeply into his eyes. They’re filled with lust, love and adoration for you and for you only. “You’re so beautiful.” You say to him in a whisper but Spencer chuckles a bit, “I should be saying that to you.”

You look down as your pussy catches the tip of his cock and you sink down into him carefully. He moans at the feeling and you gasp. He fits perfectly.

“God, I missed you. Missed this…” Spencer catches his breath. “Perfect pussy.” You chuckle and looks into his eyes as you rock back and forth. “It was so lonely without you, Spencer.” You whine. “I missed you so much.”

You lean down as you kiss him on the lips. “Did you…” He pauses, not wanting to be crude even while he was inside of you. “While I was away?” It took a second to figure out what he was talking about. And then you realized that he was asking if you’d masturbated while he was away.

“A few times,” You admitted shyly, despite suffocating him with your pussy. “I thought about you every time. It just wasn’t the same. Missed your body.”

Spencer smiles darkly, “Maybe I should punish you for that.” He says, half-joking. You lean forward as you smirk, “I’d like to see you try.”

And without a second thought, it was as if a switch flipped as Spencer was quick to flip your bodies over and he hovers over you, both hands on either side of your head, gripping the pillows. “You really wanna test that theory?”

You bite your lip and smirk once more as you pull him in for another kiss and he glides himself into you and you gasp at the feeling of his dick inside of your pussy. It’d been such a long time since you felt him like this, here, in your arms. God, you love him.

He rocks his hips, thrusting deeply into your body as leans his head in your shoulder, mumbling sweet obscenities and how good your pussy feels and how responsive you were. He dreamt of the day he’d have you like this. And since being in prison, he longed for it more.

He reached down in between your legs as he found your clit without even looking down and staring deeply into your eyes and your moans reverberate through the walls as keeps his eyes on you and you only.

“Baby, I’m sorry, I need to cum— where? Where?” He asks and you shut your eyes tightly as you shout, “Inside! Oh, god, inside!”

He pushes himself hard into you as you finally cum, your legs shaking as you moan his name into the ceiling and he collapses on your body, still sheathed inside of you.

You both lay there, panting and reveling in the feeling of each other. Eventually, Spencer does pull out of you and you feel as he lowers himself, eyeing your pussy up close and you look down at him sleepily. “Baby, you don’t have to. This was about you.” You assure.

“Nonsense,” Spencer tells. “I need to clean up my mess and even the score, might as well kill two birds with one stone.” He jokes, diving face first into your pussy and you whimper at the contact he makes, especially with the way his stubble is rubbing against your thighs, cleaning his own cum out of your pussy and relishing in the way you both taste.

His mouth captures your clit and he twists his tongue around the bud in that delicious way you love and he moans into your pussy. “We taste so good together, baby. Cum again on my tongue, this time.”

You tug at his messy hair as you hold his head to you pussy and you use him, rocking your hips into his mouth. You feel as your legs shake once more and you let go of his head for him to take a breather.

That breather lasts only a second before he dives back in and you whine at the contact. “Spence… baby, I’m sen—sensitive.”

“You can take one more, baby. I know you can. You can cum again.” Spencer says, his pupils are blown as he looks at you and he’s commanding you to cum again. “Just one more, baby.”

You nod at him and Spencer grabs your hands. “Here,” He interlocks your fingers with his and somehow, the pleasure is so much and yet not at all as makes you cum for a third time tonight. If he could spend forever eating your pussy, he would.

You close your eyes for a moment and when you finally open them, he’s right next to you and holding you. (He’d cleaned you up properly with a warm rag and left your favorite snack and water bottle on the desk next to your bed whenever you were ready to wake up). You remembered the loving words he whispered to you as you drifted off into a heavy slumber.

And you’ve finally woken up. You look up at him, still in awe of him being here. You take the chance to check the time. It’s already 5am and the sun is still shy away from rising but it doesn’t matter. None of it matters because you have your boyfriend right next to you, holding you for dear life and loving you the way you deserve to be loved.

You worry that he’s still up, but you figure that after all those months in prison, maybe he has trouble sleeping every now and again. You find yourself holding him tighter as you look down at the bruise near your head. You can’t believe he was hurt. How did he manage to survive in there? You’re still wondering why he’d taken you off the visitor’s log.

“Spencer?” You ask and he looks down at you, your voice surprising him. “Yeah?” You sit up and look at him, face to face, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Why did you take me off the visitor’s list?” You decide to ask.

He’s about to respond and you don’t want to hear another lie. You’d been through plenty of those already. “I mean, I didn’t even want to see you at first and then you begged me to and then all of a sudden, I wasn’t allowed to. I feel like I have the right to know.”

“No, no, you do,” Spencer knows that much. He hates the fact that he’s lied to you and has forced you to deal with this when all you deserved was the best from him. He sits up next to you he knows he’s gonna need to tell you, even though he doesn’t want to.

“The last time after you came to visit me,” Spencer started. “I got cornered in my cell. A lot of the guys there were asking about you. And they said that it’d be a shame if something happened to you when you came to visit again.” You look down as he talks about it. “And I didn’t want to risk that. And I wanted to tell you, really, I did.” He grabs your hand assuringly. “But I didn’t have any way to. And I didn’t want you to get hurt. I would’ve died if something happened to you and I didn’t do everything in my power to stop it. I’m sorry it went down like it did.”

You shake your head. And you finally understand. Because if the roles were reversed, you would’ve taken him off the visitor’s list, too. If it meant protecting him. “You were just trying to protect me, I understand.”

“I just…” Spencer looks at you, holding your face in his hands. “I love you, so much.” He looks deeply into your eyes. “I want to spend the rest of my life with you.” He reveals and your eyes widen. “What?”

Spencer closes his eyes and holds his index finger up. “One second.” He stands up and grabs his blazer from off the floor and digs into one of the inside pockets and pulls out a red velvet box.

Your eyes widen as you cover your body with the sheet and he kneels down on one knee in his boxers and opens the velvet box to reveal a ring. “I didn’t want to do it like this but I’d rather do it now than wait for the right time to.” Your eyes glance down at the box for a mere second and then to the love of your life.

“I love you. And I want to spend the rest of my life with you. You make my days better, hell, you’ve made my life better. And no matter what we’ve gone through, you’ve stayed by my side and you never ran. I love that you sing off-key, I love that your nose twitches when you get mad, I love that you like… pineapple on pizza, oddly enough.” You chuckle at this. “I love everything about you. And I have no idea what I’ve done to deserve you. But… but true love, it fosters a connection that goes beyond the superficial. It's a bond that often involves understanding each other's core values, beliefs, and life goals. And you’ve made me believe in true love.“

You stare at him in disbelief as he continues, “Will you marry me?” You feel tears spring into your eyes as you nod vehemently, “Yes, yes, a thousand times, yes!” You smile widely and he smiles at you, slipping the ring onto your ring finger as you continue to mutter a million yeses.

When you finally get the ring on, you pull him in for another kiss and he holds you to his heart’s content. It wasn’t the way he envisioned it going, but with you, you knew you didn’t want big and bold ways of him saying he loved you and wanted to marry you, you were content with something small and sweet because it was coming from him and that was the biggest gift of all. You were one for grand gestures, you liked it just the way it was. It was perfect. He was perfect. And you’d spend the rest of your life reminding him he was.

So, you laid back in your bed with your fiancé and talked and talked about sweet nothings until the sun came up. And all of the ache you felt the night before, the pain you endured was long gone and now replaced with something beautiful and sweet.

#criminal minds #mgg #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds x fem!reader #spencer reid criminal minds #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x fanfiction #spencer reid x you #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid angst #spencer reid smut #post prison spencer reid #spencer reid x fem!reader #g4rvez-r3id

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sundrop-writes · 1 year ago

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The Patron Saint of Liars and Fakes

Spencer Reid x BAU!Fem!Reader

Summary:

While undercover inside the Separatarian Sect, you and Spencer realize something important: you can’t live without each other.

Spencer Reid x BAU!Fem!Reader. Co-Workers to Lovers. Fake Dating. Hurt and Comfort. Set during Season 4, Episode 3.

Word Count: 8,200

Criminal Minds Masterlist | AO3 Link

THIS IS A RE-POST. This is a fic from my old blog (a blog that was shadowbanned, forcing me to move). This fic is not stolen, it is completely mine, and I am just re-posting it to help people find my new blog, and to make my masterlist complete when I post new fics for this fandom.

Detailed warnings and author’s notes below the cut.

Warnings: Lots of spoilers for the canon episode - so if you haven’t watched Season 4 of Criminal Minds yet, steer clear of this fic for now (especially because watching the episode provides some context for this fic/makes things make more sense); the reader uses she/her pronouns and has the ability to get pregnant (she is not pregnant during the fic and there’s no smut, but due to discussions in the fic, it’s not unreasonable that she could get pregnant); fake dating in the form of a fake marriage - the reader and Spencer pretend to be married under the Christian religion to ‘appeal’ to Cyrus; because of the fake marriage, Spencer uses the term 'my wife’ to refer to the reader; lots of mentions of religion (Christianity), religious extremism, mentions of pedophilia/child brides (in line with the canon episode); mentions of systemic sexism and gender roles enforced by cultures of organised religion and religious extremism; use of y/n and l/n (in this case meaning 'your last name’); the reader pretends to follow the Christian religion while undercover but I never stated if she believes in a less extreme version of these things or not (the reader’s true religious beliefs are never stated); protective!Spencer, possessive!Spencer; mentions of Spencer being taller than the reader (which, again, I think he would be taller than most people) - the reader’s body/body type is not described in any other way; mentions of guns and gun violence (not described in deep detail) - in line with the canon episode; the reader and Spencer fear for their lives; dangerous/live-threatening situations; the reader and Spencer are threatened with a gun; Cyrus is just generally creepy and sexist toward the reader; Spencer is pistol-whipped and the reader is threatened with sexual assault (it does not happen, Spencer protects her); mentions of pregnancy/the reader being pregnant (she is not pregnant during the course of the fic); mentions of the reader being a mother/having kids (Spencer makes up fake kids to sell their fake marriage story); the reader realizes she might actually want to be a mother because of Spencer’s fake kids story; mentions of an explosion (as in the canon); love confessions; angst with a happy ending. Hopefully that is everything.

A/N: The title for this fic comes from a Fall Out Boy song of the same name. The theme/lyrics of the song don’t really fit the fic, but I love the way that this title fits - how everyone in this fic is lying in some way but Spencer is someone with good intentions while lying. Making him the Patron Saint of Liars and Fakes. I love how it fits. I wrote this while suffering with heat exhaustion so idk if it’s good or even makes sense. I rewatched the canon episode and it doesn’t 100% align with what happened in the episode in terms of the timeline and stuff, and I am too tired to rewrite the whole fic to make it align with the episode. So uh - alternative canon? But I really love the basic concepts and I do really love how it turned out. I hope you guys like it too!

...

You thought it would be an easy day.

Maybe that was foolish on your part. So far, you hadn’t seen a single ‘easy’ day while working with the BAU. Between chasing down scumbags and then reliving every single gory detail while doing the paperwork - none of it was ‘easy’. It was worthy, accomplished work - making the world a safer place to live in. (At least that’s what you told yourself.) But it was never easy.

There was always someone who made the job easier. Someone who made you smile every single day - especially on days when you didn’t think you were even capable of feeling a tiny shred of joy. Someone who made you feel safe, who you always felt had your back no matter what. So you were glad that he was by your side today, along for the ride.

“Tell us about Cyrus.” Reid prompted.

He looked to the woman driving, your new companion for the day - Nancy Lunde, someone who worked with the state department and had set up the interviews with the children at the Separatarian Sect.

“Benjamin Cyrus. No criminal record. In fact, there’s no record of the guy at all.” Nancy explained.

“That’s odd.” You commented. “Usually someone being accused of something like this would have some past offenses. Especially because it would give him a reason to move into isolation to continue the criminal pattern of behavior.”

“Well, I couldn’t find anything on him.” Nancy shrugged.

“What about the 9-1-1 call?” You asked.

“A fifteen year old girl called in saying that a man was ‘laying with her’ and claimed it as ‘God’s will’. I believe the ‘he’ referred to is Cyrus.” Nancy explained. “The age fits with Jessica Evanson, but I’ve managed to negotiate interviews with all the children, just to be sure. It wasn’t easy.”

“They’re incredibly weary of outsiders.” You commented. “Our boss warned you not to identify us as FBI, right?”

Nancy nodded. “I got you some spare credentials, just in case.”

She took one of her hands off the wheel and reached into her pocket.

“You’re going to be using your real names. You’re going in as Child Victim Interview Experts working with Child Protective Services. No association with the FBI.” Nancy explained, handing Reid your fake credentials.

He nodded, inspecting the IDs before handing you yours where you were sitting in the backseat.

“Oh, before I forget.” You noted, reaching into the pocket of your cardigan. “The rings.”

You pulled out a small plastic bag that Hotch had given to you before you left. It was a bag containing a fake diamond ring in your size and a fake golden ‘wedding’ band for Spencer.

Reid reached over the seat to grab his ring from you, and Nancy gave the two of you an odd look.

“Rings?” She questioned.

“Fake wedding bands.” You explained.

“It was our Unit Chief’s idea.” Reid added on. “He believes that presenting us as a ‘godly’ married couple to Cyrus will make him more likely to open up to us. He’s less likely to see us as hostile outsiders if he believes that we share a similar system of beliefs.”

“It could also have a calming effect on the teenagers we have to interview or the kids there who have had more time to go through indoctrination at the Sect.” You continued to explain. “Even if their parents are hesitant to let the kids speak with us, they may be more willing to have their child speak with us or even leave them alone with us if they believe that we’re fellow Christians, rather than hostile atheists there to poison their children’s minds.”

Reid nodded at you through the rearview mirror.

“Make sure you put on the left hand.” He told you. “That’s the position for marriage.”

You nodded at this.

You placed the ring in the appropriate position, and you couldn’t help but to take a moment and stare at it. It was jarring to have a wedding ring on - especially with the thought that it represented you being married to Spencer. But you supposed, of all the people to call your husband, he would be one of the best. He was honest, intelligent, kind, and… if you were pressed, you would definitely say he was handsome.

But you couldn’t get too caught up thinking about all of that. Because it wasn’t real. It was a false projection you were wearing for the benefit of a self inflated sociopath.

Spencer liked the feeling of the ring. He didn’t take too long to stare at it after he had put it on, because he knew his mind would wander if he did. When Hotch had first proposed the idea of the two of you pretending to be married, Spencer had almost tripped over himself to oppose it - mostly because he didn’t think that he would be able to handle simply pretending to be your husband for the day. It was just too cruel.

Having something he wanted so badly dangled right in front of him and knowing that it was all just a farce - it bothered him, but he delighted in the play nonetheless.

When he caught the fake gold glinting in the light, Spencer had to remind himself that it was fake - that you would just be playing his wife for the day. He had to push back any internal glee that he felt at the idea that he got to be ‘taken’ by you while wearing that ring. It wasn’t real. It was just for the day.

“Isn’t that deceptive?” Nancy asked. “Won’t Cyrus be even more angry if he finds out that it’s not true?”

“He won’t find out.” You replied confidently. “And besides, we use deception in interrogations all the time. It’s a very basic tactic: align yourself with the suspect. Make them think you share the same beliefs, that you’re on their side.”

Reid grinned at this. He always loved it when you spoke so confidently.

…

“We’re looking for Mr. Benjamin Cyrus.” Nancy announced as the three of you got out of the car.

“Then you’ve found him.” Cyrus announced confidently.

He was pretty much what you had expected him to be - dressed informally, slouched over, faking meekness, holding a bible near his chest as though it were a shield. He had planted himself there purposefully, wanting to be the first person to interact with the outsiders as three of you came into the Ranch.

You hovered back near Spencer, letting Nancy make the first introduction.

“I’m Nancy Lunde.” She said, giving a small nod toward the man. “We spoke on the phone regarding the allegation.”

“‘Savages they call us, because our manners differ from theirs.’” Cyrus rhymed off a quote, obviously positioning himself and his group as martyrs being attacked for having ‘different ways’ that the world simply didn’t understand.

��We didn’t come here to hear you cite scripture, Mr. Cyrus.” Nancy reminded him, hoping to keep the religious zealot on track.

“Actually, it’s Benjamin Franklin.” Reid corrected her, talking about the quote.

That did surprise you, but you didn’t find it surprising that Reid knew this fact right off the top of his head. It was just one of the many amazing things about him - his perfect memory and his ability to use it.

Of course, him saying this immediately drew Cyrus’ attention toward the two of you. So Spencer stepped up to introduce you.

“Hello, I’m Spencer Reid, and this is my wife, Y/N L/N.” He said motioning toward himself and then to you as he introduced the two of you. Hearing him refer to you as his wife - you hated to say it, but it caused a jolt through your system. Almost as if you had been waiting forever to hear him say those words and hadn’t even known it yourself. “We’re Child Victim Interview Experts, here on behalf of Child Protective Services.”

Of course, you couldn’t get too caught up in deciphering how those words made you feel, because you had to focus on the task at hand. The job that you were here to do.

“How far from God’s word must we have strayed for there to be a need to invent a job called ‘Child Victim Interview Expert’.” Cyrus said, his tone even, quiet.

You knew that covertly, it was his way of saying that the two of you didn’t belong there, because he ran the Ranch with God’s word, so nobody had actually been harmed (in his opinion). He believed that he had done nothing wrong. Obviously, he thought your time and resources were better spent with ‘actual’ victims who didn’t have his power wielded over their lives.

“I can assure you, Mr. Cyrus, we try to bring God into our work.” You told him, trying to appeal to him. “The children we visit usually need prayer and God’s light the most.”

Spencer gave you a sideways glance, clearly holding back a grin at how thick you were pouring it on - how much intense, feigned passion you said these words with.

“Well, I can assure you that a lack of prayer and God’s light is certainly not an issue for the children here.” Cyrus said, giving you a clever little grin. He thought that you would simply interview the children, praise him for what a good job he had done, and then leave. “You can go and see the children whenever you like. They are up at the school, as I indicated in our phone call.”

Nancy walked toward the school, and you paused before you followed.

Before you walked off, you looked to Spencer. In a completely silent conversation that only worked so well because the two of you had been in so many tense situations before, thinking around UnSubs and planning miles around them before they could even know it, he gave you a small nod and you instantly knew what it meant. He had established a small bit of trust with Cyrus, so he would stick back and see what else he could get out of the man.

You nodded back, and then - completely surprising yourself, you leaned in and kissed Spencer on the cheek. You were just playing the part, you told yourself. It’s not that it felt entirely instinctive to say goodbye to him with some kind of affection, like the many hugs you had given him before. It’s not that you felt so entirely scrutinized with Cryus’ piercing eyes on you, and you needed the anchor of Spencer’s touch.

You were just playing the part.

Spencer tried not to get caught on being kissed on the cheek like he was some blushing virgin, and instead, focused his attention back on Cyrus instead of watching you walk away. (Even though every single one of his instincts told him that he needed to keep a more careful eye on you because you both had to leave your guns in the car.)

He took a step closer to where Cyrus was leaning on the concrete, and easily picked a topic of conversation.

“Solar panels.” Reid said, motioning to the large devices sitting behind Cyrus on the grass.

“Yes.” Cyrus nodded. “We’re completely self-sufficient here. Food, electricity, water. Benjamin Franklin said ‘God helps those who help themselves’.” He explained. “You look surprised.”

“No, uh, impressed, actually.” Reid easily lied, trying to appeal to his ego.

“Thank you.” Cyrus said. “Most men wouldn’t admit that.”

“Well, I suppose that I’m not like most men.” Reid shrugged in return.

“How long have you been married?” Cyrus asked, motioning toward Reid’s ‘wedding ring’.

Reid panicked slightly, knowing that the two of you likely should have coordinated this story during the plane ride to Colorado so that your answers to these simple questions wouldn’t be different. But he just made up an answer and hoped that nobody else would ask you the same question and find out the deception.

“Three years.” He said. “I’ve been very blessed.”

He used the language purposefully, knowing that the simple phrase could get him on Cyrus’ good side. That, and he hoped it would draw the attention away from any possible signs of his blatant lie.

“Your wife is very beautiful.” Cyrus commented.

He gave a wicked smirk as he said this. It was a simple, fairly ‘innocent’ comment, but it was immediately off-putting to Spencer. It took everything in his body not to glare daggers at Cyrus or throw out some protective comment in return. He could only imagine what was going through Cyrus’ mind as he thought about you, and he hated even imagining it.

Reid knew that it was a basic logical good, the instinct to protect you because you were his partner on this case and he was supposed to have your back. But it was also something more. Something in every fiber of his being that screamed you were his and no man should ever be thinking of you that way except for him.

“Has it been a godly union?”

He was lucky when Cyrus spoke again and distracted him from his mounting rage.

“We try to be as godly as we can be.” Spencer took the simple, diplomatic answer.

“Your wife didn’t take your last name.” Cyrus pointed out.

Nancy had used your name on your false credentials because Hotch had only come up with the fake marriage idea the day before. There hadn’t been time to inform her about it and have ‘Reid’ put on your ID as your ‘married’ name. So he had introduced you by your name to keep everything consistent with the reuse.

It did make Spencer wonder if you would keep your last name if the two of you ever did get married. It made him almost dizzy, thinking about you as ‘Mrs Reid’. Thinking about your kids having his name. Or your name, if that’s what you wanted.

But naturally, he pushed past all those thoughts and formed an excuse.

“Typically, married women aren’t very well perceived in our line of work.” He quickly excused. “She doesn’t even get to wear her ring that often. She couldn’t change her name on paperwork at our office because a working married woman… it’s heavily frowned upon.”

“Well, I’d have to agree.” Cyrus grunted. “A woman shouldn’t be out working. A woman should be at home raising a family.”

“I - I suppose you’re right.” Reid agreed through gritted teeth.

He walked away toward the school before he got too angry again.

…

A few hours later, everything had gone to hell.

Some authority - the police, the military, you didn’t even know - had charged into the Ranch shooting. In response, Cyrus and his followers had come into the school toting large semi-automatics asking you and Spencer if you knew about a raid.

You didn’t. You wish you had known about a raid. You would have warned Hotch and gotten them to call it off. You certainly would not have been there while it was happening.

When they had pointed those guns in your face and forced you into the tunnels - it wasn’t very difficult to pretend to be Spencer’s wife then. Cowering in the bunker, confused and scared, you flung your arms around his waist almost instinctively, and he buried his nose in the top of your hair as he wrapped his arms around your shoulders like a shield, promising you that everything was going to be okay.

Whispered to you like that, coming from him - it was almost easier to believe. Even with the chaos going on around you and the fear pumping through you in response.

Nancy had run off trying to get them to surrender and did not come back. You had a feeling that you knew what that meant.

And now, with the kids from the school ‘evacuated’ into the church, you were being held in the cellar at gunpoint. They had forcefully separated you and Spencer, making you sit in chairs at opposite sides of the room.

Spencer was fidgeting. His eyes kept flickering from the door, to you, to the man standing beside you holding the very large gun.

You knew that you had ugly tear tracks down your face, and oddly enough - you wanted nothing more than to be back in his arms. As you were forced to sit there, just a few feet across the room away from him - you ached for it.

There was a very large possibility that you were going to die today. And you selfishly needed the comfort of being in the arms of someone familiar - someone safe. Someone you knew would never hurt you. Someone who had made you laugh with dumb science jokes and puns for the last five years that you had worked together with him.

When Cyrus charged back into the room with two men flanking his sides, you and Spencer stiffened up once again.

“God will forgive me for what I’m about to do.” Cyrus announced to the room, presenting a handgun from his belt.

Your insides quaked, and Spencer’s eyes grew wide.

You couldn’t contain the fearful whimper that erupted from the back of your throat when he raised that gun and placed it near the middle of Spencer’s forehead. You clasped a hand tightly over your mouth to keep yourself from crying out in protest, knowing that would only make things worse.

“Which one of you is the FBI Agent?” Cyrus asked firmly.

Which ‘one’?

So he knew that you were undercover, that you had lied about your job titles - but he thought that only one of you had done so. Where the hell was he getting his information?

“I - I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Spencer told him quietly, looking him in the eye the entire time.

You hoped that his stutter could be passed off as nervousness from the gun being pointed in his face, and wouldn’t be pointed to as deception.

“Which one of you is it?” Cyrus pressed.

“We are not FBI Agents.” Spencer said, more confidently this time. “We are Child Victim Interview Experts. We were only sent here to ensure the wellbeing of the children. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Well, that last part wasn’t a lie.

“You’re lying.” Cyrus told him, entirely confident in this. “God expells those who lie, devils in sheep’s clothing.”

There was a tense moment, and then Cyrus cocked the gun.

Spencer didn’t flinch. You resisted the urge to scream.

“Proverbs 12:22 says: ‘The Lord detests lying lips, but he delights in those who tell the truth.’” Cyrus said, actually citing scripture this time.

He was giving Spencer one last chance to tell the truth. As if using the bible verse to say that his punishment would be lesser if he simply told the truth now.

Spencer didn’t take the bait.

“I’m not lying.” Spencer said firmly. “What? You think I wouldn’t know if - if my wife was an FBI Agent? This is the woman I wake up next to every single morning, the woman I go to sleep next to every single night, we work together every single day, we-”

Cyrus interrupted Spencer’s ranting with a sharp hit to the face, pistol whipping him across the cheek.

This caused Spencer to go flying off the chair, and you couldn’t help when you let out a wounded cry. It took everything in you not to jump out of your own chair and rush to Spencer where he had collapsed onto the ground, clutching his cheek.

“Someone is going to tell me the truth.” Cyrus said gruffly.

“It must have been Nancy!” You said, the idea finally popping into your head.

You seemed to be more clever with the pressure of Spencer’s life being threatened. Cyrus stared you down, turning his attention fully toward you now. You caught Spencer’s eye for a moment and he gave you a small nod - as if to say ‘yes, keep going with that’.

“The woman we came in with! Nancy!” You reasoned, continuing to point the finger at the woman you had to assume was dead. “We - we just met her today. Our boss introduced us to her, but we had never met before that. If she was FBI, we had no clue. We swear.”

Cyrus turned to you then, and tightly pressed the barrel of his gun into your forehead. You could feel the imprint of it so tight in your skin that it hurt, and you could only lean away so far before threatening to knock the chair backwards.

“It’s very convenient to pin this crime on someone who isn’t here.” He grunted at you.

“It’s the truth.” You sniffled out quietly.

“Hmm.” Cyrus hummed thoughtfully, and then, much to your surprise, he removed the gun barrel from your forehead.

You barely had a moment to breathe in relief before he began skimming the gun down your neck, touching the metal whisper-gentle across your bare skin - clearly taunting you. It was something that made your whole body stiff with alarm, and caused Spencer’s eyes to go wide once again.

“Perhaps I should strip you naked to ensure that you’re not wearing a wire.” Cyrus said, teasing the gun along the buttons at the front of your cardigan.

You held back a sob at the thought of it - at the idea that he could make you do almost anything for the fear of you being shot. Truthfully, you were more afraid of what he might do to Spencer if you didn’t comply, but it was all the same in your mind now. His life was just as valuable as yours, and you would do whatever it took to protect him.

Before Cyrus could take these threats any further, a heroic voice intervened.

“That’s enough!” Spencer yelled.

He gathered himself off the floor and oddly enough, none of the men moved to stop him as he came to stand beside Cyrus. Perhaps they didn’t see him as a threat. Perhaps it was because Cyrus didn’t bark any orders at them to stop him. He was entirely unflinching, keeping his focus on you and keeping his gun held between your breasts as Spencer crowded into his personal space, trying to press himself between you and the awful man.

“We’ve told you everything that we know.” Spencer told him lowly, his voice heaving with well controlled anger. It was something that you had rarely ever heard from him.

Cyrus kept his eyes locked on you, so Spencer continued.

“We don’t know anything about the FBI - we have a simple job advocating for children who have been abused. That is it. We came here to investigate a most likely false claim against someone in your community and we truly didn’t mean to get caught up in all of this.” He said firmly, clearly trying to appeal to Cyrus. “So I suggest you get that gun away from my wife before you and I truly have a problem.”

Spencer’s voice was dark, so thick with rage. More pent up rage than you had ever heard from him when he was talking to any suspect, people who had done the worst of the worst. Something about Cyrus threatening you had truly boiled his insides.

The way he said the words ‘my wife’ - growling it out like he was a feral animal and this threat to you had activated every single one of his protective instincts. Hearing it made something inside of you yearn for him on such a deep level that you didn’t know was possible. You wanted to feel that kind of protection cast over you every single day. It made you feel invincible, having Spencer watch over you like that.

Cyrus lowered the gun then, and Spencer grabbed your arm as you dissolved into hysterical tears. Instinctively, he lifted you up into his arms. You thought that you heard Cyrus mumble out ‘my apologies’ as he left the room - but he was barely on your radar. Your entire world became narrowed down to nothing but Spencer, your safety net as he built a wall of protection around you.

He used his height to block you from seeing anything but him, letting you push your face into his chest as you cried. He wrapped you in his arms once again, letting you feel truly safe for a few moments as you sobbed into the fabric of his sweater. Your arms clutched desperately at his waist, needing to keep a hold on him - needing to ensure that he didn’t leave you.

“Hey, shh. Shh. It’s okay.” He said, leaving gentle kisses on the top of your forehead and your hair, rubbing across your back with one hand, comforting you in the only way he could in those moments. “It’s gonna be okay.”

Of course, he wanted to break down too. But he had to be strong for you.

“Spencer,” You called his name in an utterly wounded voice, pulling away from his chest to look up at him.

When you saw his injury up close - a sharp, purple-red bruise that was blooming across his cheek, it looked so utterly painful. Your insides ached at the thought that he had taken a blow for you. You hated to imagine what more they could have done to him if they had not believed your lies.

You instinctively reached a hand up to touch it and he caught your fingers halfway, instead, gently grasping your hand and laying it on his chest. The intimacy felt so oddly rehearsed - so worn in, so ‘normal’. It felt like you had been married to Spencer for years. Like it wasn’t a play at all.

Your two souls had been calling out to each other for years, just waiting for the dam to break. But you couldn’t quite put it into words - not like that.

“It’s okay.” He said quietly, knowing you were horrified by the injury.

He was so gentle, so comforting, so calm. Everything the men pointing guns at you were not. Unlike Cyrus - Spencer Reid was a true blessing from God.

You couldn’t hold yourself back then.

You surged up and kissed him, fully embracing his mouth with yours in a kiss. Though it was so sudden, it was something he easily returned. The kiss so full of urgency, so needy, so passionate. Like he was trying to tell you that it was okay, that he would protect you no matter what.

He would protect you because you belonged to him.

In those moments, the two of you were basically alone. One of Cryus’ men was guarding the door, watching on boredly. But Cyrus was off in the church, funneling people in to prepare for his ‘loyalty’ test. It didn’t matter if he saw you kissing or not - it wouldn’t have sold the reuse of you being married any better.

This was just for the two of you. This was comfort.

When you pulled back from the kiss, Spencer looked stunned, almost as if he couldn’t believe what had happened. You didn’t give him time to question it.

“Thank you.” You said quietly.

It was twofold:

Thank you for protecting me. Thank you for giving me comfort.

Spencer didn’t have too much time to marinate in the meaning of the kiss before Cyrus’ men came back and fetched the two of you, wanting you to observe the loyalty test.

…

After the mock poisoning (which Spencer figured out rather quickly, making you admire his cleverness once again), Cyrus kept you and Spencer in the church with a few of his closest, most loyal followers while all of the low level followers dispersed back to their homes.

You and Spencer were lingering in the back quietly while Cyrus was on the other end of the room, talking to his men about how to proceed. The plans for their ‘final stand’.

“We need to get some kind of signal to the others.” Spencer whispered quietly. “Maybe they’ll take pity on you and let you go if-” He swallowed sharply, cutting himself off abruptly. Oddly enough, he didn’t want to voice whatever was on his mind.

“If what?” You probed. You wondered what the hell you could possibly be thinking.

“If we tell them that you’re pregnant.” He said, whispering so lowly that you almost didn’t catch the words.

You rolled your eyes sharply at this.

You had gotten married and had kids all in one day. What a miracle.

(In those moments, clouded by fear, you couldn’t see it for what it truly was - Spencer blatantly revealing his unconscious desires to have a baby with you.)

“We could convince them to release you. As a show of good faith. A pregnancy would be good leverage in that. You know how religious people are about fetuses-” Spencer reasoned.

“Yeah, and what if they give me a test?” You probed, punching a large hole in his logic. “We don’t know what kind of infirmary they have here. They obviously believe in modern technology. What if they want to give me an ultrasound to check on the fetus after the stress of the day? To prove that they did no harm to the precious unborn child,”

Spencer was easily caught on this point. If they examined you and found that you weren’t pregnant, all the lies would fall apart.

“Well… what if we tell them that you have a baby at home that you need to get back to?” Spencer reasoned, jumping to the next logical conclusion in his mind. “It’ll likely garner the same level of pity.”

“Your imaginary sperm is powerful, isn’t it?” You whispered back sharply. Spencer rolled his eyes this time. But he didn’t redact the plan as unreasonable, so you continued on. “Okay, what do I even do when I get out there? I’m not gonna be of any use to the tactical team. We don’t know what Cyrus’ final play is yet.”

Truthfully, you couldn’t bear to be separated from Spencer. Knowing that he was inside, potentially being beaten up more, potentially being shot and bleeding out from a wound without you knowing - it would kill you with stress. You need to be by his side. You needed to know that he was okay.

“Has God blessed your union with any children?” Cyrus appeared behind you suddenly.

You wondered if he had heard you say the word ‘pregnancy’ or if this was just a random topic that had come up in his mind.

His sudden appearance behind you caused you to whip around and crowd into the comfort of Spencer’s arms again because you were frightened. Naturally, Spencer wrapped his sheltering touch around your shoulders. Your back was gently pressed into Spencer’s front, his arm shielding you protectively as it was wrapped around your chest, holding you with his hand on one of your shoulders, unconsciously stroking his thumb across the fabric of your cardigan. The position had you both facing Cyrus, watching the fan in an offensive way.

And of course, Spencer didn’t miss a beat.

“Yes.” Spencer answered easily. “We have two kids at home. A boy and a girl. Iris and Hugo. Iris is almost three years old and Hugo is eleven months. His first birthday is coming up in June.”

You knew that Spencer could be very good at talking off a suspect’s ear under pressure, but when you heard him rattle off these ‘facts’ so easily, it hit you.

This wasn’t simply statistics or physiological knowledge - this was a very elaborate backstory for your supposedly real marriage. Perhaps he had thought about all of it on the car ride up (which was odd not to share it with you, in case Cyrus asked you a similar question and your answer didn’t match up with Spencer’s).

But if you weren’t mistaken, this wasn’t simply a backstory for your fake marriage during the undercover mission. This was a fantasy of his. Those were names he had lovingly chosen for your imaginary children - kids he had dreamed up in his head and wanted to be real.

Your heart ached at the thought of it. You found yourself missing a set of children that weren’t even real. (And distantly, wanting to jump his bones to make it a reality.)

“Tell me, Mr. Reid, would you find it so shameful for your daughter to marry young?” Cyrus asked.

You found it odd to hear Cyrus call Spencer ‘Mr. Reid’, but you realized that he hadn’t introduced himself as ‘Doctor’ in this setting. You held your tongue when you felt the need to correct him as you had so many other people, wanting Spencer to receive his proper title.

Your mind almost couldn’t focus on the question that Cyrus had asked. Of course, he was trying to get Spencer to stroke his ego once again. Basically admitting that the whole reason the two of you had come here was true - he was being vastly inappropriate with a young member of the church, and getting away with it. And he saw nothing wrong with it.

And he was trying to get an outsider to admit that he saw nothing wrong with it too.

When there was a moment of silence - Reid obviously torn on how to answer the question, Cyrus continued.

“Is there really something so wrong with a blooming young woman marrying a man who will protect her under God’s laws?” He probed, his voice so entirely confident. Clearly confident that he was right.

“Well, I’m not sure if I would let my daughter get married so young.” Reid said, finally speaking up. “I just know that I would want her to marry a man that would protect her, and be the best possible fit for her. Someone who would cherish her and be good to her no matter what.”

His answer made you swoon. You reached up and gently gripped his forearm in response, giving a light squeeze to show your approval. He leaned in and kissed the back of your head - dizzyingly, you were imagining him walking your imaginary daughter down the aisle before you had even gotten married yourself.

Maybe it was being so close to death, being threatened in such dangerous territory that was causing your life to accelerate at light speed in your mind. If you were going to lose everything, you might as well enjoy the escapism of a fake life with a beautiful man in your mind instead of being stuck on the heart pounding terror of being held hostage, right?

Surprisingly, his words drew a smile from Cyrus.

“You’re a protective father, aren’t you?” Cyrus asked.

“Of course.” Reid confirmed.

“I can always admire that in a man.” Cyrus nodded. “A man should always pride himself on protecting his family.”

There was another moment of pause, and you were hoping that the topic had been dropped completely.

“Do you have a picture of your children with you?” Cyrus asked.

You wondered if - in a different version of reality, where you and Spencer really were married, where Hugo and Iris really did exist - if you had a picture of them in your pocket, would Cyrus only be asking this so he could use the picture to taunt the two of you? What other purpose would he have for knowing what your children looked like?

“Unfortunately, no.” You answered. “I keep my family pictures on my desk. In my office. We - we’ve just been praying to get back to them safely.”

Cyrus seemed perturbed at you mentioning that you had an office. Something dark flickered over his features for a moment and then disappeared.

“Well… if it is right, God will grant you that safe passage.” Cyrus said.

Just when you truly thought the conversation was done, he said something to you that entirely grinded under your skin.

“I find it entirely odd that a mother of two young children spends her days working a job where she takes care of other people’s children, rather than staying at home with her own youngins where she belongs.”

He said, using that same entirely confident, righteous tone that he always did. Even though you were not really a working mother, you had a hard time not boiling with anger at the sexism ripe in his statement.

“How much must you be missing of your sweet angels lives to instead partake in the horrors of devils you shouldn’t have to witness.”

Of course.

You had a hard time not rolling your eyes at this or saying something harsh that would set him off. Instead, you reached up to Spencer’s arm around your shoulder, squeezing his fingers, trying to keep your patience.

“I’ll have you know that Y/N is an amazing mother.” Spencer piped up, knowing that Cyrus respected him enough as a man that he wouldn’t beat him simply for speaking up. “Her nurturing and caring makes her infinitely better at her job.”

Again, you knew that there was so much personal truth in Spencer’s words. He thought that you would make an amazing mother to his children - at least theoretically. He was entirely firm in that conviction. And he thought that your natural caring made you amazing at the job you did as a Profiler. He knew this from the quality of work he witnessed you doing every single day.

You didn’t know it - but it was just one of the many things that had caused him to fall in love with you.

Oddly enough, Cyrus’ words prodded at something deep inside of you. It made you imagine a life for yourself where you weren’t spending your days witnessing horrors from unspeakable devils - but instead, at home, looking out for Spencer’s imaginary children.

You would have said it was the fear of the day, clouding your mind. But maybe it was the clarity of being so close to death that made you realize what - and who - you truly wanted out of life.

…

Hours later, after some of the hostages had been released (the ‘non-believers’ who had failed the loyalty test), Cyrus had requested that some food be sent up. Spencer gave you a sharp look when he saw the message written on one of the takeout lids.

The team would be storming in to end the hold-out at 3am. You had to somehow ensure the safety of the hostages by then.

Obviously, the fake pregnancy idea was still warping through Spencer’s mind, but you had come up with some much better.

“Cyrus,” You called out his name gently, getting his attention. “You said that you have a nursery here?”

It had come up, during his long winded bragging about how perfect the Ranch was. Something about how mothers didn’t have to raise their children alone. The children were raised as more of a ‘group effort’ and women took ‘shifts’ in the nursery, allowing the women to rest or get chores done in the interim.

“Yes, we do.” He nodded.

Spencer stared at you with his jaw set, wondering what you were doing but not daring to speak.

“I - I’ve been missing my children dearly. I was wondering if I could go to your nursery and see if they need any help? It would do my soul good to be around young ones right now. After all the commotion of these days.” You spoke meekly, trying to play the part of the shaken up, dainty woman well.

Which was too difficult, seeing as you were playing up the fear you had already experienced.

He grinned. It was a rather menacing smile, and you tried your hardest not to show any further fear, or disgust.

“That sounds like a splendid idea.” He nodded. “Christopher, why don’t you escort her down to the nursery and then come back? We need you here for our final preparations.”

You were finally falling to those gender roles that he had been pushing on you since you had arrived. He didn’t suspect a thing. He simply thought that you were a God fearing woman falling to your natural womanly instincts, needing to care for children lest your womb shrivel up and you die.

Spencer rose from his seat and Cyrus stopped him.

“Just your wife.” He said, putting a hand in front of Spencer’s chest to stop him. “There are still some things you and I need to discuss. Man to man.”

You went over to Spencer and didn’t hesitate to plant a kiss firmly on his mouth, which he returned with vigor. This one lasted only a moment - it was something precious for the two of you. You didn’t need to put on some pointed show for the men in the room.

“It’s okay.” You told Spencer quietly, brushing your fingers gently over his uninjured cheek.

You could tell that he was dying to ask you what your plan was. But he kept the words trapped in his throat, unable to speak in front of the many temperamental villains lurking about.

“Come on.” Christopher grunted.

Spencer gave you a longing look as you left. He didn’t want to think it, but as he watched your figure retreat out the door, he feared that it would be the last time he ever saw you.

…

Your plan worked flawlessly.

Getting to the nursery meant that you had unsupervised access to the women and children, especially away from Cyrus’ prying ears. Because you were a ‘delicate’ woman, nobody suspected you of having ulterior motives. You easily found a crack in Kathy, Jessica’s mother. You spotted her as the one who had made the original 9-1-1 call, wanting to get her daughter away from Cyrus. You convinced her to help you get everyone out, and you felt intense relief when you were met with a familiar face in the cellar as everyone escaped through the tunnels.

“Where’s Reid?” Morgan easily asked you, glancing behind your shoulder as if waiting for him to appear.

“He’s still up at the church.” You told him. “I had to separate off to help get the women and children out-”

“Go on, we have to get you out!” Morgan urged, trying to gently usher you along.

“We have to go get Reid!” You argued, trying to turn around.

“Go, go on, I’ll go get Reid!” He told you.

You were about to argue back, but you were cut off by a scuffle behind you.

Jessica was yelling about Cyrus - how her mother had betrayed her, tricked her.

Morgan pushed Kathy toward you and ran off screaming for Jessica. You took Kathy’s arm, gently convincing her that everything was going to be okay as you guided her the rest of the way out. You had to focus on this, convincing yourself that everything was going to be okay. You had to tell yourself that Derek was going to get Spencer out - that they were both going to be okay.

When you got outside, you were hyper focused on marching away, taking a path away from the church as directed by the officers in charge. You froze in your tracks when you heard it - an earth shattering boom. The ground beneath your feet shook. You felt a puff of hot air swell to touch your back.

You let go of Kathy’s arm and whipped around, and you couldn’t even pay attention to where she went. You almost thought you heard her weeping, but your mind couldn’t process it as your eyes were glossed in bright orange flame.

It was the church.

“Spencer?” You gasped quietly. “Spencer!”

You couldn’t help it, but you began to run toward it. Your feet carried you faster than you could think, and before you got more than a few feet across the ground, you felt a sharp grip on your upper arm.

“L/N!”

Hotch’s voice, sounding far too distant for the position he held right behind you, viciously gripping onto you as you fought against him, trying to get toward the fire - trying to get to Spencer.

“Hey! Hey! Stop it!” Hotch tried to order you around, tried to get you to stand down.

He got a hand around your waist, and you continued to kick like a wild horse, fighting against his grip as hot tears poured down your face.

“He’s in there!” You sobbed. “Spencer is still in there.”

“Calm. Down.” Hotch ordered sharply.

You collapsed back into him sobbing, all of the fight leaving your muscles at once. You couldn’t fake the reality in front of you.

“You running in there and getting hurt isn’t going to change anything.” Hotch told you quietly, a somehow distant murmur into your ear.

Through the blur of your tears and the sharp orange glow, you saw the shape of two bodies. You heard coughing as someone emerged from the blast, hobbling down the stairs at the front of the church. You forced your eyes open wider, trying to see who it was, and then:

“Y/N!” Spencer called out your name gruffly through the smoke he had inhaled, and you easily shucked off Hotch’s grip to race up the stairs to get to him.

He was leaning on Morgan for support and you were worried that he was hurt. But the moment you were close enough, he tore himself away from Morgan and the two of you met in the middle. In a pattern that was easily developing, you fell into the safety of his arms, holding him tight enough to bruise him - never wanting to let go.

“You’re so stupid, you’re so stupid! Why would you do that to me?”

You sobbed out, gripping both sides of his face, staring into his eyes, needing the recognition that he was right there, right in front of you.

He stared back with glassiness - intense fear, adrenaline, and something small that told you he was thankful for you, and needed you now more than ever.

Of course, your words were simple anger at the situation, not at Spencer himself. The terror of thinking that he was dead still pumping through your veins, causing you to shake.

“I know.” He said quietly. “I love you.”

His voice wrapped around the words so tenderly - it was the most sincere declaration you had ever heard from him. As if to say ‘I know how much that scared you. I know what this ordeal has done to us and I only meant it more because of how scared I am’.

“I love you too.” The words flew from your lips so naturally it hurt. You took a moment to recover, entirely shocked by your own lips. And then, you only found the need to say it growing more inside of you. “Spencer, I love you.”

You pulled him toward you with the grip you had on his face, and he easily met you in one of the most earth shattering kisses you had ever experienced.

It was no longer a show, it was no longer about displaying the fake marriage for someone else’s benefit - if it had ever been about that in the first place. It was about the two of you. It was about feeling that comfort, that safety. It was about the fact that your two souls were drawn together since the day you had met. The fact that you had always felt safe with each other. You had always been the other person’s shelter from the storm.

And you poured every ounce of those feelings into that kiss.

You combed your fingers through Spencer’s hair, taking a harsh grip on the back of it, holding him there so he couldn’t pull away from your lips. He wrapped his arms around your waist, fisting the back of your sweater. Both of you entirely refused to come up for oxygen, not even caring who saw the epically passionate, public display of your love for each other.

Unbeknownst to you, Morgan and Hotch exchanged a look with raised brows as it happened. You and Spencer didn’t care. You were barely perceiving the world around you as the two of you kissed.

“You know if you’re not careful, people are actually gonna think you two are married.” Morgan said, being his usual sarcastic self.

Rather than pulling away from Spencer’s lips to sass him back - you simply flipped Derek off over Spencer’s shoulder.

On the ride home, JJ handed Derek five dollars. He had the over/under that the two of you would get together before the end of the year. JJ said that it wouldn’t happen for another five years, at least. Derek handed the fiver to Emily when she reminded him that the ‘fake marriage’ bit had actually been her idea.

When Emily and JJ relayed the story to Penelope, she squealed so loudly into the phone that JJ dropped it.

Hotch pulled you aside later and warned you that the fake rings were just cheap costume jewelry that Garcia had gotten and they would tarnish soon if you kept wearing them. He also recommended that you and Spencer put in the paperwork with HR if you were ‘serious’ about the relationship. You knew that it was him wishing the two of you his best.

A few days later when you came into work and found the HR request for an update of relationship status sitting on your desk, already signed by Spencer, you couldn’t help but to smile.

...

A/N: This is a oneshot, so there will not be a continuation or a sequel to it. If you are going to comment, please comment about the body of work that I have written, rather than asking me to write 'more'. If you want to see more things that I have written about Spencer, feel free to check out my Criminal Minds Masterlist.

#sundrop writes #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fic

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