#spencer reid tbr

[island-in-ignorance]

Anyone got a good book recommendation for people that were a little too attached to Spencer Reid from Criminal Minds?

[fbigirly]

I wish i could read as fast as reid because than my TBR Booklist wouldn't be so big.

[actually-safer-to-kiss]

Kafkaesque

Summary: On the flight back home, Spencer and Reader exchange books to read, and Spencer is surprised by your selection.

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: Funny, fluff-ish

Content warnings: Franz Kafka (i like him but whatever)

Word count: 1k

The team is on the jet heading back to Quantico after yet another successful case was solved. The tensions of a stressful arrest started to quell as only clusters of city light started to become their only view for the rest of the flight. Morgan has already passed out listening to music, taking up two seats for himself, while Hotch, Emily, Rossi, and J.J. stay occupied by playing poker. Their banter filled the cabin along with the sound of shuffling cards, and actual chips were exchanged instead of poker chips.

You and Spencer, on the other hand, decided this was the perfect time for reading. You had been discussing the idea of exchanging books to get each other’s opinion, since you two are the only consistent readers among your colleagues (and also because Spencer’s banned from playing poker for cheating (again)).

You only briefly got to start each other’s selection before landing, but now there was plenty of time to cross some of the short stories of Sherlock Holmes off your TBR. Considering you were reading in the same space, you expected this to be more of a challenge. Because Spencer is a fast reader. A notoriously fast reader. To the point where Hotch has prevented him from reading while questioning witnesses. The speed at which he combs through books knocks off their focus. You’ve seen it yourself, so much that it’s not as funny as it was when you started here.

Nevertheless, you explore the world of Sherlock Holmes. As you turned the pages, you marveled at the intricacies of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s storytelling. The deductive prowess of Holmes and the vivid depiction of Victorian London transport you to another time and place. Andrew Scott’s charismatic portrayal of Moriarty in the TV adaptation flickered through your mind, though you wisely kept that observation to yourself. Last time, Spencer gave a passionate lecture on the discrepancies between books and television adaptations, citing difference in attention spans, and you had no desire to open that can of worms again.

Amid the familiar hushed ambiance of the cabin, you felt a familiar sensation—the piercing gaze of someone fixated on you. It was a feeling you had grown accustomed to, whether it was the malevolent eyes of criminals from afar of the intense scrutiny across an interrogation table. You tore your attention away from the pages of your book to meet Spencer’s eyes. His expression was contemplative, yet he was less than a third through the book.

“Wanna trade already?” You asked, breaking the silence.

“No, no,” Spencer replied, his lips pursed as he continued to study you.

You raised a brow. “Any questions I could answer?”

“How did you come across him?” He held up your book, “The Complete Short Stories” by Franz Kafka.

“Oh,” you shrugged, “just those angsty high school years, you know?”

Spencer’s nose wrinkled at that. No, he, in fact, did not know what you meant. Because he wasn’t old enough to have angsty high school years. And if he did have any at all, they would have been during college—neither period of his life he cared to recall.

“You’ve seriously never picked up Franz Kafka?” You asked him. “You? Spencer Reid? The equivalent of a human encyclopedia?”

“Only some of his short stories were used for college lectures.”

“Okay.” You feigned a laugh. “So what’s the problem?”

“What was your childhood like, Y/N?”

Your face widened in shock before a sly smirk emerged. “Are you seriously profiling me because of my favorite author? That’s absurd!” The urge to playfully smack him surfaced, but the goodness of your heart made you resist (also because this isn’t your book you’re holding). “Kafka enthusiasts come in all forms, you know. Like everybody else.”

“He’s your favorite author?” Spencer chuckled, still very surprised.

You nodded. “And what about it?”

“You’re just so… happy all the time.”

You cocked your head to the side. A small laugh slipped out as you said, “Oh, I’m sorry, Dr. Reid. Should I have brought ‘The Adventures of Strawberry Shortcake’ to help maintain your image of me?”

“No! I mean…” Your shared laughter briefly interrupted his train of thought. “It’s just not what I expected from you.”

“Hm.” You settled back in your seat, opening the book to where your thumb rested between the pages. “Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think you do.” You’re ready to get back to reading, but you still look at Spencer.

His eyes sparkled, and the curiosity of something becoming more complex than intended makes his brain run for miles. “Perhaps I don’t.”

As the jet continued its steady course back to Quantico, you and Spencer settled into cozy companionship, growing more familiar with each trip. The ambiance remained peaceful, with the faint hum of the engines serving as soothing background noise for your literary exploration.

You find yourself engrossed in the world of Sherlock Holmes once more, relishing in the intricate puzzles and razor-sharp deductions. Andrew Scott continued to dance in your mind from time to time, a testament to the power of well-crafted adaptations (excluding season four. You never told Spencer there was a fourth season).

You were also increasingly aware of Spencer’s presence beside you. Instead of the prickling sensation of having eyes on you, his knee brushed lightly against yours, sending tingles through your body, along with zero doubt it was accidental, considering this guy hesitates to shake hands. He still took the time to look at you after some moments of reading, as if he were deducing what certain Kafka works in that book could mean to you exactly. He flipped through the pages—actually reading—like he would find the answers.

You heard him swallow. “So, uh, why is he a roach in this one?”

“Because that’s how he feels.” You knocked your knee against him this time. “Just keep reading, Spencer. We’ll discuss it after.”

You watched him bite his lips closed as he tried to suppress a smile.

[inthehystericalrealm]

Hysterical Realm Fic Recs

Sharing some of my favourite stories, of my favourite characters, by my favourite authors!

Peter Parker (TASM)

Steve Harrington

Spencer Reid

Bucky Barnes

Dick Grayson

General Fic Recs

You can also check out my TBR side blog @hystericalrealmtbr

Tagging some of my favourite creators below!

@luveline @sanguineterrain @stevebabey @wkemeup @ophelia-is-complex @forevermoreharrington @superblysubpar @upsidedownwithsteve @notlongtolove

There are truly so many more, and as I remember and find more stories and blogs, this post will be updated.

[rumplereids]

oh.... (disappears for 3 hours)

Spencer Reid Kink Collection

Since I can't participate in Kinktober this year, I thought it would be fun to do a little Kink Masterlist for my existing fics! This post is 18+, minors DNI!

Bondage

Bound Together: Spencer has a very pleasant surprise for his girlfriend

Body Worship

Adore You: Spencer makes sure his girlfriend knows how much he loves her body

Breeding Kink

Ever Expanding: Spencer and his wife decide it’s time to expand their family

Baby Fever: Ever since they decided to try for a baby, Spencer and his wife can’t get enough of each other

Degradation/Dumbification

Temptation: His girlfriend's new skirt is too tempting for Spencer to resist

Only Yours: After getting jealous at work Spencer reminds his girlfriend who she belongs to

Facesitting

Heart on my Sleeve: Spencer is entranced by the look of his girlfriend wearing the sweater he knit as a present

Worship: Spencer knows exactly how to make it up to his girlfriend after being late for date night

Hand Kink

Stress Relief: When his coworker complains about back pain, Spencer offers a massage. Things escalate

more fics under the cut!

Innocence Kink

Preciously Pure: Things seem to change between Spencer and Reader once she mentions her innocence

Orgasm Control / Edging

Purple Dress: Spencer and his coworker have a friends-with-benefits agreement. When he tries to end it, she shows him what he is missing out on.

Careful Whisper: It's very hard to keep quiet when Spencer visits Reader in her hotel room at night

Phone Sex

Call Me: Spencer discovers new ways to feel close to his girlfriend while working on a case

Praise Kink

Nice & Naughty: His girlfriend has been a very good girl this year which is why Spencer spoils her in every way he knows on Christmas

Public Sex

Lavender & Lace: Spencer didn’t know how much fun going shopping with his girlfriend would be

Nude Beach: Reader finally convinces Spencer to go to the beach with her. Turns out it’s a nude beach

Skinny Dipping: It doesn’t take much to convince Spencer to go skinny dipping

Sex Toys

Play Time: Spencer is curious about a very interesting toy his girlfriend ordered

Somnophilia

(Don't) Wake Me: When Spencer learns that he shares a kink with his girlfriend, he finds a special way to wake her

Wake-Up Call: Reader can’t resist Spencer even when he’s asleep

Threesome

Lucky Number: When Spencer and his girlfriend run into Elle years after she left the FBI, they quickly realize that there's an undeniable tension between them that begs to be released

Find my General Masterlist here

Find my Dom!Spencer Masterlist here

[tenpintsof-sundrop]

Did you know that you can reblog fics with tags in order to bookmark them?

Okay the replies on this post are kind of sending me to space, so I figured I needed to make a new post.

I know a lot of people are new to tumblr and might not know how to use tumblr properly, and it does just make me go ??? whenever I look on someone's account and they have 0 reblogs and just have a giant wall of fanfiction in their likes. Because I cannot imagine scrolling through endless fanfiction posts in my likes looking for one fic when organizing things with tags is so much better.

First of all, for new people - reposting and reblogging are two very different things. If a writer has "do not repost" as a disclaimer, they are not talking about reblogging.

Reposting is when you copy and paste someone's entire work, make a brand new post, and then post their work under the implication that it is your own.

Reblogging is a function that is built into the website (and app) that comes up in a creator's notifications, showing that you appreciate their work because you interacted with it. Reblogs always have links back to the original poster so people can find them and follow them.

So - when you hit the reblog button (the one next to the like button that is shaped like a recycling symbol) - you are giving the author credit and encouraging them.

Also, you can use tags on your reblog to organize fanfiction for your own use later!

You can tag by genre -> #smut #angst #hurt and comfort

You can tag by a character's name -> #Spencer Reid #Emily Prentiss #Jennifer Jareau

You can tag by a pairing -> #Spencer Reid x Reader #Emily Prentiss x Reader

If you read fanfic from a lot of different fandoms, you can even structure your tags to include multiple elements -> #Spencer Reid x Reader Smut

A lot of people even reblog fanfics and tag them as #TBR or #to be read - in order to bookmark a fic that they are interested in and want to come back to later.

And you can edit the tags on posts you have reblogged at any time, so if you want to edit something that you have already read and update the tags, you can do that.

I think it's a shame that people aren't taking advantage of this websites very useful features (while supporting fanfic writers at the same time). You don't need to keep links to Tumblr fanfiction somewhere else in order to organize them - if you use Tumblr right, you can keep everything organized within Tumblr and it works perfectly.

[leanteam43]

request request request!! maybe spencer reid x fem!reader who loves to read? both of them just sitting and reading when he feels her head on his shoulder as she falls asleep? xo

"The Best Book Boyfriend"

(Spencer Reid Headcannons)

summary : reader!reader (hehe) x reader!reid (hehe x2)

pronouns : she/her | fem!reader!

coloring : Derek | Reader | Spencer

warnings : none!!

a/n's : i'm saying reader only reads romcoms because thats the only thing i read sorry to all my pookies who read classics/literally anything else </3 - 🌿 | no points no me - 🎸 | lalalalala 0.0 - 🐇

Having COMPLETELY different TBR piles

Like its almost humorous having "The Fisher King" and "Boyfriend Material" on the same coffee table

Book !! bouquets !!

Amongst other book related gifts

Book stamps, tabs for your books, highlighters that don't bleed onto the other page, etc etc.

Listen i KNOOOOW the fbi be paying that man GOOOD money

So consider this,

Those tiktoks that are like "my bf took me to barnes and noble and said if i could carry the books he'd buy them"

But you outsmart him and bring derek to carry the hardcovers

"that's not fair!" "i didn't hear anything about it in the rules" "WHERE DID HE EVEN COME FROM??"

Quiet nights in, just you two and your books!!

You slowly falling asleep and laying your head on Spencer's shoulder

He always makes sure to bookmark the page you were on

MATCHING BOOKMARKS

Alternatively, swapping bookmarks

"Reid, why do you have a hello kitty bookmark?" "You've never been in LOVE, DEREK."

Reading to each other!!

Spencer listening so intently as you gush about the love interests in the books

Logically, he's not jealous of a fictional character

but not everything has to be logical

"So yeah, he's one of my book boyfriends." "Book boyfriend??" "Oh hush, you're my favorite book boyfriend." "Oh okay :)" "...but I'm not in a book??"

Both you and Spencer getting to a good chapter in the book and the room just going dead silent as y'all both focus

Then both of you looking at each other before both spilling about what just happened in said chapter

Somehow you both understand and register what the other is saying even though your both speaking at lightening speed

Reading !! to !! each !! other !!

Imagine Sleepy!Spencer coming home after a long case and laying his head on your lap as you read him one of your "cheesy romance books"

He use to pretend to not be interested but come ONNN some of them are just too interesting!!

"Wait...so he's her boyfriend?" "Well...he WILL be but right now he's her FAKE boyfriend."

Yk how Spencer reads like freakishly fast??

Well imagine him purposefully reading slower when you two have your quiet nights in,

Because he wouldn't daaarreeee move when your already half asleep on his shoulder

Overall, Dr. Spencer Reid IS the best book boyfriend.

[inkdrinkerworld]

happy valentine’s day!!! imagine spencer going out for valentine’s day cos it’s his first one and being so surprised and overwhelmed that someone loves you that much

happy love day nonnie!!! he’d be so sweet and romantic!!

being with spencer makes you feel naked, seen.

his love had come slow, but it had been well worth it.

he loved intentionally and that was the best part. everything had meaning, everything had a purpose and it had been done with intention that made your heart almost burst out your chest.

you had gifted spencer his gift the night before he left for the case, a new cardigan that he’d packed, a compilation of the hardest crosswords through the years, filled with ciphers you’d created and a new pair of his favourite pens.

when you woke up, there were your own gifts at the foot of the bed.

they were covered in brown paper, stamped with hearts and stars. perfect for your scrapbook.

you reach for them and rip carefully to reveal three books from your ‘tbr’, a new pair of crochet needles, a cookbook filled with the foods and baked goods from some of your favourite books and a letter.

after reading the letter, with tears streaming down your face, you called spencer, hoping it was a good time.

“happy valentine’s day, sweet girl,” he greets you and you laugh, wetly and spencer notices. “did you cry?”

it’s a running joke that spencer could write the simplest things in a card, on a post-it or a scrap of napkin and give it to you and you’d be a mess.

“you do it on purpose, i love you.” you breathe the words easily.

“i love you more, there should be a delivery of flowers and your favourite from the bakery at your office by the time you get in.”

“you spoil me spencer reid.”

“yeah i know, you’re almost rotten.” he teases.

“you love it,” you stretch off your bed and sigh.

“i really do.”

[ghost-proofbaby]

Get To Know Me Tag Game

Rules: Tag 8 people you want to know better (or just because you feel like it).

thank you for the tags from @big-ope-vibes, @blue-mossbird, @abibliophobiaa, and @br0ck-eddie!!! i adore you all my friends <3

Relationship status: single. very painfully single lol

Favourite color: forest green! or like really dark lush greens in general

Last song listened to: All My Love - Noah Kahan

Last movie watched: that damn movie M3GAN about the AI doll

Top 3 shows: ooo shit, this is gonna be a struggle. Stranger Things, House M.D., and A Good Place (bonus: New Girl, The Office, and Parks & Rec are my comfort shows tho) and criminal minds and lucifer listen i just really like crime

Top 3 characters: Eddie Munson, Eleanor Shellstrop, and Nick Miller my beloved. also honorable mention to spencer reid.

What I’m currently reading: The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo by Taylor Jenkins Reed. (bonus: my next on my physical tbr is probably A Darker Shade of Magic by V.E. Schwab! i started it and only got halfway before i got distracted lol) also of course all of the incredible fanfic written by my astronomically talented friends, including the ones who tagged me. y’all’s minds never cease to amaze me 🖤

no pressure tags: every single person i would have tagged has been tagged 😭 so if you see this, do it and tag me! with all my new followers i’d love to get to know you sweet people <3

[rockrose-blossoms]

just reader fics for myself <3

[marbledaesthetics]

added to the growing list of comfort fics in which my favs get little comfort lmao

Rusty | S.R

Series Summary - After suffering unimaginable horrors in his three months spent in prison, Spencer Reid struggles to bounce back to his former glory. And when he almost dies at the hands of Benjamin Merva, it’s one trauma too many to bear. So Spencer ups sticks and relocates to a ranch in the middle of nowhere, leaving behind his job, his friends and his relationship.

And then he meets you, a mysterious stranger, who helps him out of a tight spot. You’re looking for a place to lay low and he’s in need of assistance. It’s a match made in heaven. Isn’t it?

You both have pasts you’d rather remained buried. But when those pasts both collide in your present, it can either tear you apart or force you close together.

You’re both just a little rusty, but practice makes perfect.

A/N - yes I’m writing a new series. No I cannot be stopped. Thank you @andiebeaword and @pinkiceee-prose my angels for coming on this ride with me.

Paring - Spencer Reid / Fem! Reader

Category - strangers to friends to lovers | angst | smut minors DNI

General warnings - past sexual abuse, past physical abuse, bad coping mechanisms, PTSD, dissociative amnesia, accidental self-harm, lying, secrets, bisexual Spencer Reid, post prison arc, smut.

Chapters under the cut.

Chapter 1 - Wanted Dead or Alive

Chapter 2 - Take Me Home, Country Roads

Chapter 3 - I Walk the Line

Chapter 4 - The Ballad of the Lonesome Cowboy

Chapter 5 - Gunpowder and Led

Chapter 6 - Tumbling Tumbleweeds

Chapter 7 - Where Were You (When the World Stopped Turning)

Chapter 8 - A Horse With No Name

Chapter 9 - A Cowboys Cowgirl

Chapter 10 - Back in the Saddle Again

Chapter 11 - All My Ex’s Live in Texas

Chapter 12 - Slow Dancing in a Burning Room

Chapter 13 - Friends in Low Places

Chapter 14 - Even Cowgirls Get the Blues

Chapter 15 - Heavens Just a Sin Away

Chapter 16 - Take Your Memory With You

Chapter 17 - Gunfight at the O.K. Corral

Chapter 18 - So Little I Wanted

Chapter 19 - So Little I Got

Chapter 20 - Fires Don’t Start Themselves

Chapter 21 - Night Riders Lament

Chapter 22 - If Tomorrow Never Comes

Chapter 23 - Only the Lonely

Chapter 24 - Bless the Broken Road

The wonderful and amazing @andiebeaword drew this for me of two of the horse you will meet in this story. They are both driving forces of the fic and I think everyone should see them.

[earthtomia]

fic recs!

(specific characters below the cut)

╰┈➤ all time favourites <3

╰┈➤ smut recs (18+ ONLY)

please respect the writers and do not interact with any content marked 18+ if you are a minor, thank you!

character guide!

marauders era:

➸ remus lupin

➸ sirius black

➸ james potter

golden trio era:

➸ fred weasley

stranger things:

➸ steve harrington

➸ eddie munson

➸ robin buckley

➸ jonathan byers

marvel:

➸ tasm!peter parker

➸ matt murdock

➸ druig

➸ bucky barnes

➸ eddie brock

➸ wade wilson

star wars:

➸ din djarin

➸ han solo

criminal minds:

➸ aaron hotchner

➸ spencer reid

➸ derek morgan

supernatural:

➸ sam winchester

➸ dean winchester

house md:

➸ gregory house

➸ james wilson

➸ robert chase

challengers (2024):

➸ art donaldson

➸ patrick zweig

miscellaneous:

➸ indiana jones

➸ lip gallagher (shameless)

➸ joel miller (the last of us)

➸ thomas shelby (peaky blinders)

➸ carmen berzatto (the bear)

[spencerssockdrawer]

Good morning beautiful people!

So the other day I was trying to make myself a new homescreen and once I'd finished, I thought "I need to share this with the world." Problem is that non of my friends know who this pretty boy is so today I'm sharing it with you! :)

[safespacespence]

borrowing books on christmas eve

COUNTDOWN TO CHRISTMAS: 3 DAYS

[summary] as a small bookstore owner, you remember every single customer and the book they bought from you. so when the odd, quirky brunette comes in with a distressed and upset energy, your christmas eve plans change a little to make room for him. [pairing] spencer reid + bookstore owner gn!reader [warnings] implying maeve's death. grief. implied depression. mentions of food. post-maeve spencer. [category] angst. hurt/comfort. fluff. [word count] 3.0k [a/n] so as usual, i have no plan for how my fics go. so the way this went was completely unexpected and so far from what i first thought of when i wrote this prompt. it got a fair share of my craving for angst-writing, but i promise there's a little fluff in the end. oddly enough this is the longest piece ive written so far; this definitely has to be one of my favorite ficmas installments. hope you like it!! tell me what you thought

oh, christmas. it was your favorite time of year. no, not because of the friends and family you could see, or the surplus of food you were blessed to have. it was because it was quiet. it was the perfect time to be cooped up in the bookstore with nothing but the fire crackling and snow falling to disturb you.

the books scattered around the store had no logical flow. ever since you took over, you made it a point that none of the shelves would be arranged alphabetically or by genre. they were organized to your liking; whether that was ‘definite reread’ or ‘bad writing, but pretty cover’. you could venture the small space and find the exact book you were looking for, and that made the bookstore yours. you decorated it to your liking, too, with plants and fluffy rugs, and teacups with pens and sticky notes, so strangers could leave their thoughts in the margins of the books.

you loved customers—how each of them had a story, and a purpose, and you would personally assist them in finding a book for whatever reason. that was the allure of bookstore owning, you thought, because as much as books were subjective, these complete strangers would trust you in finding a book to satisfy the craving of their mind and soul. you could still remember most of the customers you had and what book you recommended to them. each person was distinct, most especially because of what book they ended up leaving with. a teenager was questioning their path in life for love and career, so you gave them ‘red, white, and royal blue’. for a girl who was obsessed with greek mythology, but her mom wanted her to step into more advanced books, you gave her ‘the song of achilles’. and for an older couple who wanted to relive harry potter in a different sense, you ended up giving them a very limited printed and bound copy of ‘all the young dudes’, a marauders era piece of fanfiction. but you could never forget the odd quirky brunette man who wanted sci-fi that was scientifically accurate. and you laughed at his face, then realised he was serious, and gave him a compromise, ‘origin’ by dan brown.

that man was still in your head when you thought about what books you’ve sold. he never came by again. it was possible that he just didn’t like the book, and didn’t trust your book recommendations any further, but a part of you kept hope that he did like it.

but yes, christmas was great, because all of your regulars and even passerby customers were busy enjoying the holiday, and you were left in the once-a-year quietness of the store. you used the time to catch up on your tbr, immersing yourself into fictional worlds, with breaks for coffee, tea, snow-watching, and snacks.

so when the bell of the door had jingled, the sound was heard too quickly, snapping you out of your imagination.

like a reflex, you stood up and brushed the cookie crumbs from your lap, to greet the customer who had entered.

“hi, welcome! how can i help y—” you stopped, the stranger’s features coming into the light, and you found a semi-familiar face. you hadn’t seen him in two years. somehow everything about him was the same, but so, so different. his hair was shorter now, but the same kind, interesting face was there. his eyes were the same; tired, scarred, but willing.

he seemed to recognize you too. he tried to get a word out, but you just had to ask. “origin, right?” he raised an eyebrow. “sorry?” “i sold you origin by dan brown about two years ago, yeah?”

his posture settled, as he understood exactly what you meant. “right, yeah. you still work here, huh?” he offered a half-smile. he seemed tired, and you wanted to accommodate his energy. “yeah, i do. how can i help you?” you wanted to be warm. it was christmas eve, and even if he didn’t celebrate, you were wondering why the contagious happiness wasn’t rubbing off on him.

he approached you slowly. with the odd lighting of the store, the dark circles under his eyes were more pronounced. his breathing was slow, like he was taking his time. like he had nothing more to lose.

“i’m looking for a new read. anything, honestly. just need to get into it, get out of a rut.” he said it so casually, he had accepted it, and was trying to move past it.

“absolutely anything?” you asked, careful not to pry.

he pursed his lips and nodded.

you perused the store, going through each of the sectors in your cognitive map to find him something. would he need a little cheering up, or was that too forward? you wanted the book that you gave him to be just right. he was trailing you as you moved around the store, and for some reason, you were nervous. although you managed the store for years, this complete stranger made your breathing unsteady. you heard his footsteps stop behind you, and you swiveled to find him stopped at a shelf. he eyed a book on the top, a little out of his reach.

“here, let me.” you said, dragging the stepstool to pick up the book. as you stepped down, he offered his hand to help steady you, which you graciously took. his hands were still cold from the winter bite, and the warmth of your hands spread to his.

you placed the copy of the book in his hands. it was a slightly tattered, but loved, copy of the ‘narrative of john smith’. as soon as the book hit his hands, you felt the tension in his body dissipate. he clutched the book like it was somebody’s hand, and looked at it so lovingly.

you heard him take a breath and you took that as the notion to continue finding him a book. you proceeded throughout the store, glancing at all of the titles, before coming to a complete stop. he probably was following you mindlessly, because you felt his chest bump into your back suddenly.

“oh, sorry.” he said, startled.

you giggled. “no worries!”

you pulled out the exact book you were seeking. it was a small paperback version of life of pi.

his eyes widened, recognizing the book. the silence was insulated by the stacks of books near you. “i don’t know you, or what you’re going through, but this book has brought me out of ruts countless of times. so, maybe, it’ll help you out.”

“spencer.” it came out of his mouth like a whisper, but you were a good listener.

“sorry?” you asked.

“you said you don’t know me. so, uh, spencer. it’s my name. that’s a start.”

you gave a shy smile. you could hear his voice, the way he sounded like he was trying to be a little more welcoming.

“hi, spencer.” you said.

“and this is perfect, thank you.” he looked at the book, before making eye contact again with you.

you lead him to the cashier area to bag the book for him. he was still quiet, and paused to look at ‘the narrative of john smith’ again.

“would you like that book too?” you asked, curious.

“oh, no, thank you. i have two copies.”

that had a story behind it, you were sure. but maybe it wasn’t a story he was ready to share—a fresh wound that he didn’t need reopened.

“oh, okay.” you said, proceeding to the counter. he pulled out his wallet and paid quietly. you didn’t ask anything further.

you placed the book in a paper bag, with the usual personal note that you leave for the customer. you liked the quiet, but this was unsettling. he picked up the bag and gave a soft smile, and turned to leave. you picked up your book again, ready to let go of the drained interaction and start your reading again. but the bell didn’t jingle, and your eyes found spencer still standing in front of the door. you heard him exhale, and turn around.

“i’m sorry.” he said, piquing your interest. “life has been kind of crazy lately and my thoughts are really loud.”

you were caught off guard. the man was essentially a complete stranger, but with the way he was acting in the twenty minutes you analysed him, he seemed like he needed company. “spencer, you don’t need to apologise for anything. or explain anything. really.”

he sighed, relief escaping. “origin was really good, by the way.” his smile was bigger now, and he was looking at you directly.

you perked up. now this, this, you could talk about. “i’m glad you liked it! it’s definitely one of my favorite books.”

he walked towards you slowly, unsure if he should continue initiating conversation. he looked around the bookstore, finding no other people around. “not that busy, huh?” he peered behind the counter, counting the amount of books you had set out. “light reading?”

you laughed. “just the christmas reading i’d like to get accomplished. and yeah, christmas tends to be really quiet over here.”

his posture changed, becoming more comfortable. “listen, i-uh, was wondering if you had any plans today?”

you didn’t expect that at all, nor did you know how to respond. “excuse me?”

“sorry, that didn’t come out how i wanted it to.” he paused, thinking. “could i just hang out, for a while, here? you can continue reading, and i’ll be quiet, i just want to be away from reality for a while.”

your heart softened for him. there was no reason for you to reject him, too, as he presented his solid case. you contemplated for a minute, before saying without an ounce of hesitation in your voice, “of course.”

“thank you.” his voice was friendlier.

you felt the stress in your body ease. “cookie?”

his presence would only be made known when you heard his distant footsteps finding another book. it was a little frustrating—when you moved to your next chapter, he moved to his next book. you were an avid reader, so why the hell was he so much faster?

other than that, you barely noticed he was there. it came to the point where both of you were lost in your books, consumed by the words on the pages, ignoring all of reality. you forgot to switch the sign to say ‘closed’, only remembering your responsibility when the streetlights outside began to light up. you stood to switch the sign, eyes involuntarily scanning the store for the brunette.

you found him, cooped up in a corner, where his knees were brought to his chest as he sat against a mound of cushions. the stack of books he had read began to tower over him, and you couldn’t help but fall a little. who doesn’t like a reader?

“i’m getting chinese for dinner, how does that sound?” you asked casually.

he didn’t look up from his reading. “chow mein noodles and sweet & sour pork, please!” he was definitely invested in that book. “oh, and ask for a fork, thanks!”

you laughed. this did not sound like the same guy from hours before.

when you paid for the chinese delivery, you heard his footsteps move away from his corner as they crescendoed towards you. wordlessly, he picked up the bags of chinese food and followed you, bringing them to a behind-the-counter area where a table and couch were.

you slowly unpacked the food. “now i know you said you just wanted chow mein and the pork, but i felt, hey, it’s christmas eve, so a little feast would be nice, don’t you think?”

spencer’s eyes widened at the amount of chinese food you purchased. chow mein, sweet and sour pork, shrimp fried rice, honey garlic chicken, fried tofu, salt and pepper squid, and everything in between.

“you can bring the leftovers home.” you beamed at him.

he laughed a little. “that would be great, thanks.”

he sat down next to you. his hair was more disheveled than this afternoon, but there was a spark behind his eyes that you figured came from hours and hours of reading. you understood how that felt, the way books and reading could bring you back to real-life by contrarily transporting you to a separate reality.

“good reading session?” you asked him.

his mouth was half-full of the fried rice, and he answered a muffled “mhm. how ‘bout you?”

“yeah, finished two of my books. five more to go until midnight.”

he tilted his head, interested. “do you always spend your christmases reading until midnight?”

“i mean, it’s my favorite thing to do. don’t make it sound so sad.” you poked.

he nervously laughed. “sorry! i mean, me too. just in my apartment, not in a bookstore.”

you relaxed, taking off your sneakers and folding up your legs. “so what’s the change this year?”

“apartment’s a bit of a mess, i needed to get out.” he continued to put food on his plate. “thank you, by the way, for letting me stay here..and eat dinner here too. i realise this isn’t in your job description.”

you chuckled. “i like the quiet company.”

he smiled.

you continued to eat, the conversation flowing from books to careers, and eventually what was clouding spencer’s mind.

“it’s been over the acceptable amount of time to grieve, and i feel like i should be moving on.”

at this point, your hand was on spencer’s knee. he wasn’t flinching. “you aren’t obligated to move on, spence.” you hesitated. “um, can i call you spence?”

he smirked. “yeah, spence is okay.”

you continued. “what you went through is beyond..i can’t even put into words how traumatizing that must have been. you’re allowed to grieve for however long you must. we all process things at different paces. what you’re feeling is valid, spence.”

he needed to hear that.

he looked up at you, where your eyes were ready to meet his. he seemed to scramble for words, and when those weren’t enough, the tears started forming, and he tried to hold them back.

you whispered, “it’s okay.”

and that clicked with him, so the tears came pouring down as he sobbed silently. you held your arms open for him, whenever he was ready, and he slowly eased into your arms. you felt his breathing shake as he failed to steady his breath, and you fought the urge to stroke his curls. you settled your hand on his hair instead, softly and gently patting his head. he whispered into your body a billion ‘thank you’s that were unintelligible, but you didn’t need to hear it to know it.

he collected himself after a few minutes. seeing him with puffy eyes spoke levels to his vulnerability and made you feel connected to his soul. you wiped the remaining tears from his face as he returned his lips to the shy smile he was so used to giving.

“last piece of pork, do you want it?” you asked, breaking the silence.

“we can split?” he offered.

you smiled, realising the amount of progress you had made with him in only a few hours of truly knowing each other.

“yeah, we can split.”

spencer helped you clean up, transferring leftovers into containers and placing the trash by the door to be taken out later. neither of you knew what to do then.

“i should probably go, then.” spencer said, packing up his satchel and placing his books on the trolley with all the unsorted books. “sorry for messing up the store. i shouldn’t have gone too crazy with the reading.”

“no, not at all!” you reassured him. “but, uh—”

“yeah?” spencer was hopeful you would ask him what he was thinking.

“you could, i don’t know, maybe stay?”

spencer tried to hold his smile in, to which he failed miserably. “if you insist.”

for another three hours, you both sat in silence, reading. but spencer wasn’t hidden in his corner anymore. now, he was next to you, behind the counter, munching cookies silently with only the page turning to break the silence. you got used to his incessant speed-reading. and as you finished another book, you couldn’t help but compare both of your ‘read’ piles, where yours was a midget compared to spencer’s.

you felt your eyes starting to droop, and you leaned your head against the wall to rest. spencer noticed you dozing off, admiring the way you slept so contently, even if you were uncomfortable against a wall. he realised he was probably staring, but didn’t feel the need to hide it—there was no one watching him watch you. he felt safe with you, which was something he hadn’t felt in so long.

and like divine intervention, your head sleepily and slowly dropped, balancing on its side. something in spencer had registered, and he moved his shoulder closer for your head to land on. and when it didn’t quite exactly land, he gently guided your head to rest on his shoulder. you involuntarily shifted in your sleep, turning your body towards him, looping an arm through his, and shifting your body weight to your side.

he was frozen for a while in disbelief. his hand stayed still, afraid he would wake you, and he put down his book. he sat, staring at the way the snow fell and how it gleamed under the streetlight glow. for the first time in months, his thoughts went quiet.

spencer noticed the yelling of parents and children as they tooted horns and lit sparklers on the road.

“i think it’s midnight.” spencer’s voice woke you.

“hm?” you asked, comfortable with the position you were in.

he spoke softly. “i think it’s midnight, it’s christmas.”

your head lifted from his shoulder briefly, looking at the snow and commotion outside. “oh, then merry christmas, spence.” you said sweetly, before returning into your cuddled position, falling asleep so easily again.

spencer’s voice was reduced to a whisper. “merry christmas, stranger.”

read the rest of the series: athena's twelve gifts of christmas

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i need my quiet time to read this i will come back

A Study in Anchored Souls

Pairing: ghost!Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: In which the ghost of Spencer Reid discovers that in order to unveil his unfinished business and finally lay at rest, he must somehow enlist the help of the woman who now inhabits his apartment. Category: MATURE (18+) Content: Strong language, mention of weed, ghost shenanigans (?), female masturbation, fingering, oral sex (fem receiving), brief handjob, unprotected p in v sex, Spencer is invisible for all of that LMAO Word Count: 11.8k

MASTERLIST

NOTE: God, I love ghost smut. That was a goddamn blast to write! Like you don't even know how giddy it made me putting these words to the keys. I even put in extra effort and made a little photo banner, which I’ve never done for a one shot before, and I’m kinda obsessed with it ngl 😂 I hope you love this one as much as I do! <3 Written for @imagining-in-the-margins Autumn Air writing challenge!

———

ACT I: Girls' Night

Spencer Reid always knew he would die.

It was a cold, hard fact of life that at one point, everyone would die. It was unsure when or how, but it happened. There was no escaping it. That thought alone was enough to squander most of his anxieties about death— even after a few near-death experiences and the constant danger his line of work tended to throw at him throughout his lifetime.

Still, the one thing he couldn't stand to think about was the "after". He wanted truly to believe that what happened after death was just nothingness, but after his encounter with Tobias, it stirred up all sorts of questions and unexplainable possibilities that were just too vast for even his brain to try and comprehend.

Then, of course, there was the fact that he was currently standing in his old apartment, watching somebody else live her life, completely invisible to her. He tried talking to her, too, but nothing. It was like he wasn't even there.

But why? It's not like he had unfinished business or anything. The unsub who shot him was shot down immediately afterwards. He watched him die before passing out himself. Why was he "awake" now, nearly 5 months after the fact, and not when his friends were grieving him? Where were his friends, and why has the afterlife chosen to tie Spencer to a place rather than the people that knew and loved him?

Logically it seemed reasonable but really, he just missed his friends. He missed his life.

He hated the afterlife, he decided then. There was no reason he needed to keep doing this when he couldn't even leave the confines of the apartment. He couldn't walk through walls or touch anything or sit down on the woman's gross floral couch. If he wanted to enter another room, the door needed to be opened, otherwise he was stuck right there in the living room, the kitchen, and the open dining space that connected the two. If he was allowed to live his afterlife with his mom, or playing Chess with Gideon, or travelling the world, free to go anywhere and see anything without hardship, it might have been different.

But no. He was stuck watching this woman struggle to move furniture by herself.

He didn't know her. Had never seen her before. She wasn't a student of his or a victim he'd saved or even a fling. She was a complete stranger. A complete stranger who unfortunately had terrible taste in decor and an even more unfortunately beautiful face.

Her name was Y/N. From what he could gather, she didn't have any family, at least not nearby. Her two best friends were the only other people in her circle that he'd seen in the apartment, and when they were all together it was... interesting. There was a lot of loud laughter and wine, and oh God, the sex talk...

It felt intrusive, but he couldn't leave. He could migrate to another room, maybe, but his ears still worked, even a little too well. His eyes, too, seemed to be as sharp as ever, any imperfections to his vision completely mended. He was simply over aware of everything, and yet hollow at the same time, and he hated everything about it.

But what could he do? He couldn't even touch anything or communicate to anyone, so how could he possibly figure out what was keeping him here and how he could get out of it? Did his new roommate hold some sort of knowledge or ability to help him solve this mystery, or was he destined to watch her live out her life in this place that he once called "home"? Was there any connection between them at all?

He didn't know.

Usually he liked puzzles, but this one was rather annoying.

He just wanted to rest.

Y/N had been moved in for just over a month (yes, there was a whole month of just standing there learning everything about a stranger because there was simply nothing else for Spencer to do) when finally, there was a small glimmer of hope.

Heavy on the small.

It was Girls' Night. Friday. It always consisted of too much wine and movies and snacks and discussions about whatever they were reading or watching. Despite the differences in the routine, the camaraderie made Spencer miss his friends. He wondered what they were all up to. Maybe, if this all worked out, he could actually find out.

But for now, he had to focus on the baby steps.

When the girls showed up with a Ouija board, he couldn't help the incredulous laughter that escaped him.

Y/N, it seemed, felt the same disbelief. "You guys, what the fuck is that?"

"What does it look like?" the first friend, Maya, retorted.

The other, Robin, added, "You were the one that said you felt like you weren't tooootally aloooone in this apartment..."

Her haunting inflection elicited a backhanded thump to the arm, Y/N groaning as she closed the door behind her. "Yeah, but that doesn't mean I would want to know what or who it is! Besides, I'm probably just paranoid. It's just being in a new place and the anxieties that come with it, that's all. You guys are insane."

"Only one way to find out!"

Was Spencer really going to entertain this? A goddamn Ouija board? He enjoyed his fair share of spooky things and researching superstitions, but that was out of his realm of belief. On the other hand, one could technically consider him a ghost... He could look down and see himself, but nobody else could see or hear him... Y/N had obviously voiced a concern for feeling a presence to her friends, but how much of that feeling was accurate and how much of it was, in fact, 'new home anxieties'?

As the girls unboxed the board and set up their things, Spencer sighed, mumbling to himself, "Only one way to find out..."

Maya closed the curtains and turned all the lights off, meanwhile Y/N and Robin were collecting and lighting any candle they could find. They cleared off the low coffee table in front of the couch where the girls sat and set everything up there, Spencer taking a seat on the floor opposite the group. It was then that Y/N said something that made him laugh.

"Wait, shouldn't we give the couch to the ghost?"

"What?"

"Well, what if it's an angry ghost? And then we make it sit on the floor, and it decides to exact vengeance on us? Maybe we should... I don't know, be more hospitable?"

"Hmmm, maybe you're right," Robin said, standing up. "Do you hear that, Ghost? We're only being nice to you, so please don't kill us, m'kay?"

Spencer sighed. Little did they know, he couldn't actually sit on the couch. Or a chair. Or anything that wasn't the floor. It was like the ground was the only physical thing he was anchored to. Still, the girls had no way of knowing that, so they shuffled their way to the other end of the table, flipping the Ouija board so it would face the other way. Spencer got up and moved then. He'd have to stand uncomfortably in the small gap between the table and the couch, bending down at the waist to use the board, provided he could even touch it.

He had no idea how this was going to work, if at all.

It was all starting to sound and feel absolutely ridiculous.

The girls each put a finger on the planchette, nervous laughter emanating from them, and Spencer gave one last deep breath before reaching out to touch it himself, anticipating the moment of truth.

His hand hovered over the board, feeling a block just before he would make any contact. He couldn't touch it. His hand wouldn't even go through. He retreated and huffed, wondering if there was something he could do to communicate with them otherwise. He tried to blow out one of the candles, but with no luck. He could feel his breath against his own skin (could you even call it that at this stage?), but the objects in front of him were completely oblivious to his presence.

He was about to give up and call it a night, leaving the girls to have their fun, but then one of them gasped.

"Wait, don't we have to use two fingers? Is that how it works?"

"Shit, I think you're right."

They adjusted their positions and Spencer sighed, but indulged them just in case.

His hand lowered again, middle and pointer fingers approaching the planchette in anticipation. He half-expected there to be resistance again, but this time, a cool rush of wind gusted up in between them as his fingers made contact with the wood.

"Holy shit!" all four of them exclaimed in unison.

"Did you feel that?" Maya squealed excitedly. "Wicked..."

"No, not wicked!" Y/N whined. "We should stop!"

"Really? You know for sure now that there's a ghost living in your apartment, and you're just not going to ask it questions to make sure it's not harmful? Be smart about this, bitch," Robin countered playfully.

Spencer wanted to cut to the chase. He moved his hand, spelling out a word, and the girls collectively gasped before reciting each letter out loud hesitantly, like they couldn't believe what was happening.

"H-A-R-M-L-E-S-S"

"Oh my God! You have a Casper!"

Y/N shook her head furiously. "You guys, stop fucking with me, I mean it. This isn't funny."

"I didn't move it!" said Robin.

"Me either," said Maya. "Besides, you felt that wind right? How could either of us have done that?"

"I don't know, because you're a fucking wizard or something! Cut it out!"

"Hey, if you didn't want to do it that badly, you would have taken your hand off the planchette... Hey, Ghost, have you ever seen Y/N naked?"

"Robin!"

Maya cackled and Y/N went pale. If he wasn't already dead, Spencer would have probably gone pale as well.

The truth was, he had. Seen her naked, that is.

He wasn't proud of it. It happened by total accident. Sort of. He was following her around the apartment all day because he was bored, and he'd ended up locked in her bedroom with her. Either he was truly horrible at reading people (which seemed impossible considering his profession) or she had just gotten a random spurt of excitement, because the moment her door closed, she whipped her shirt off, exposing her bare torso to him, and he couldn't move. He was frozen, completely shocked at the sight before him. She reached down to take off her pants, and he turned around then, quickly becoming aware of the situation.

She rustled behind him and he tried desperately to walk through the door. Any time he got close, the barrier would stop him. He couldn't do anything but stand in the corner and pray to whatever that she was only changing.

She was, in fact, not changing.

Spencer swore in that moment at the table that he could still hear the low hum of her vibrator and every single sound that came from her body and mouth that night, and he was absolutely mortified.

He'd only dared to glance back when he heard the end, her breathing slow and the humming gone. It was silent for a while before he turned around entirely, only to find her asleep, sprawled completely bare over the covers. He wished he could have draped a blanket over her, but his hands were more or less tied.

Thankfully she was only asleep for about a half hour before she forced herself awake to clean up and actually go to bed.

Spencer never followed her around the apartment ever again. Just in case.

"Don't answer that, Ghost," Y/N rushed, "Robin's just fucking around. We promise to ask you serious questions from here on out."

Maya faked a snore. "Come on, Y/N, this is supposed to be fun. The ghost is harmless."

"No, the ghost said it was harmless. Doesn't mean it is."

Spencer thought for a moment as the girls went back and forth, and then he spelled out another word— or an acronym, rather.

"It's moving again!" Robin gasped, spelling out the letters.

"F-B-I"

"Holy shit did you work for the FBI, Ghost?" Maya inquired.

Spencer moved the planchette to the "YES" at the top of the board.

"Maybe... Maybe we should stop calling them Ghost..." Y/N took a shaky breath and closed her eyes for a brief moment before nodding. "Ummm... Spirit Who Resides Here..." Robin and Maya snorted. "What is your name?"

Spencer wished he could tell her she didn't need to be formal, but it was amusing watching her do it anyway. He spelled out his name, first and last, and the girls made a collective hum of acceptance. A normal name and not something concerning.

"We should Google him," Robin said matter-of-factly.

Maya hummed in agreement, but Y/N swallowed and asked another question. "Spencer, you're not... Going to hurt me, are you?"

He moved the planchette to "NO," and watched the relief take over her body, relaxing her muscles and her posture for just a brief moment. He could tell she was still wary, but it was a step in the right direction.

"See? Told you he was harmless."

"He still could be lying," Y/N mumbled. Then she sat up straight. "Not that I don't believe you, Spencer. I'm sorry. You just have to understand that I'm a woman living alone, and the thought of a man I can't see haunting my apartment is just... It's extremely terrifying."

He felt bad for her. As annoying as his situation was, he couldn't imagine being in hers. He almost wished he hadn't entertained the Ouija board at all and put her worries to rest, but since it was too late, all he could do was try and reassure her that he wasn't a threat.

His fingers moved again.

"U-N-D-E-R-S-T-A-N-D"

And then a pause, before: "S-O-R-R-Y"

Y/N's eyes dropped, and her friends made a collective "Awwwww," before a knock sounded at the door, jolting them all to move away from the Ouija board.

Spencer was knocked backwards, and he expected his newfound sense of touch to disappear once the connection had broken, but to his surprise, he found himself safely seated on the couch. His hands reached over the fabric, testing, and despite his distaste for the floral pattern on it, the cushions were suddenly the greatest thing he'd ever touched. He was grateful for this couch. And for the Ouija board, and for Y/N and her eccentric friends.

Speaking of which, Robin yelled out, "Pizza's here!" and got up with Maya to abandon the board. Pizza apparently seemed more interesting than a ghost, but for two women who Spencer could now tell (no thanks to his upgraded sense of smell) were a little high, that seemed reasonable.

As her friends happily greeted the pizza delivery man, Y/N reached out to touch the planchette again, just for a moment, and gently whispered, "Thank you, Spencer."

He returned it with an earnest, "You're welcome," but he wasn't sure if she'd hear or not. She looked around the area for a few seconds before turning around, and it wasn't clear whether she had.

But she seemed relaxed now, and that was a start.

As the girls sat at the dining table and ate pizza, Spencer tested out his new senses just a few steps away. He found himself thankful to be in a familiar place, even if the decor was different. The walls were the same and the bookshelves still stood, now filled with bright Romance novels and trinkets and photos that laid out Y/N's personality quite perfectly. He smiled, running his fingers along the spines of the books, missing the feeling even if they weren't his own.

He wanted to see if he could read one, just for the sake of feeling a book in his hands again, but he figured he'd wait until Maya and Robin were gone and Y/N was asleep.

Until then, he continued to touch things without making them move, not wanting to raise anyone's eyebrows.

And then, a gasp sounded from the dining table.

"I found him! I have his obituary right here!"

"Holy shit, let me see!"

Spencer made his way to the table to observe.

The girls passed around Maya's phone, looking at his obituary photo. Robin made a low whistle, then called out into the air on her left. He was standing to her right, unable to help the dry laughter that escaped him at the irony of the situation.

"Spencer, you were hot!"

Maya shook her head and sighed. "Yeah. What a damn shame. Sorry, man."

Robin seemed more amused than anything, turning to Y/N, who was reading through the obituary. "Hey, at least you can rest easy knowing you've got a hot FBI ghost watching over you."

"Yeah, but... Why? Do you think he lived here? In this apartment?"

"I don't know. Maybe we should ask him."

Y/N sighed, handing Maya her phone back. "I'm sure he has more exciting ghost stuff to do on a Friday night than entertain us three. All I know is he promised not to hurt me, so I don't really care if he stays."

He was glad for her ease of anxiety, but he certainly cared if he stayed. However, she sounded exhausted, and it was fair. Finding out your new apartment was haunted by a ghost (even a harmless one) sounded like a reasonably stressful situation. He wanted desperately to figure out how to finally move on, but for now he could accept the simple fact that he could actually touch things now, and let Y/N rest easy.

Even if he couldn't yet.

ACT II: X's and Oh's

Every time she came home, Y/N would greet Spencer kindly. Probably out of precaution (you know, just in case he really was lying about being harmless), but brightly all the same.

"Spencer, I'm home! I... I don't know if you're haunting me or the apartment, but... I hope you had a good day, just in case it's me."

He smiled, wishing he could greet her back.

Eventually, he found small ways to do it.

He fogged up a spot on her bathroom mirror, that way the next time she showered before bed, the heat would reveal a message on the glass: "Good night. —S.R."

Y/N talked to him that night, dressed in her pajamas and walking around the apartment like she was deciding where to talk to him. Eventually she decided on standing in her bedroom doorway.

"Spencer? You said good night so you might not even be in here, but... I guess this is me saying good night back...Thanks for being a nice ghost, I really appreciate it. If... If there's anything I can do for you, let me know, okay? Okay... Goodnight."

If only there was a way she could hear him. Communicating in mirror-notes was hardly good for anything more than a simple "good night," and despite the fact that he could touch things, he couldn't grip them, so writing on paper was out. He'd kept trying to open a door with the handle, and with no luck. It was starting to get irritating, wondering what the next step was to evolving as a ghost.

He couldn't even believe he'd thought up the phrase. Ghost evolution sounded absolutely insane, but he supposed it was his current reality regardless of how it sounded...

Tonight Y/N was out rather late. For a brief moment Spencer started to worry, but then the key turned in the doorway and relief settled in when she finally stepped inside. She seemed rather tired, but greeted him with a gentle smile all the same.

"Hi, Spencer."

"Welcome home, Y/N."

She didn't hear him, obviously, but it still felt rude not to say it back. He wondered if he could try to touch her in greeting. Maybe a brief brushing of hands or a tap of acknowledgement on the shoulder. But he didn't want to scare her, so he'd have to figure that out.

Thankfully, she seemed to have felt his curiosity somehow.

Later that night, as she laid in bed, she called out, drawing his attention from the living room where he tried to open a cabinet. Still no luck there.

"Spencer? Are you there?"

He wandered over to the bedroom, glad to see she'd left the door cracked open so he could get in. He hesitated before moving, hoping she wouldn't freak out when she saw the door open.

When he did finally gather the courage to move the barrier and step inside, he heard her gasp as she sat up in bed.

"Spencer? Was that you? Um... Move the door again if it was..."

He obliged, swinging the door shut gently as he stepped inside the room. The second the door clicked, he realized his mistake.

Now he was trapped in here with her. Not that it was a bad thing necessarily, but the last time this happened, he'd accidentally intruded on a rather intimate moment. His essence warmed at the thought.

"Holy shit. Um... This is kind of weird... I've gotten your notes and talked to you through the Ouija board, but... seeing you move things in front of me is... only slightly terrifying."

Her nervous laughter endeared him but also made him want to comfort her.

He walked over to the side of the bed closest to her body, hoping she'd be willing to communicate more thoroughly somehow. The two of them together could surely come up with something.

Again, their brains seemed to be on the same wavelength.

"If I hold out my hand... Would you touch it? Just to... let me know that it's you?"

Her arm outstretched, and Spencer slowly brought his middle finger down to touch hers, ever so lightly.

The second there was contact, there was a shock. Spencer jolted and Y/N yelled and yanked her hand back, her whole body shuddering as she kicked her legs. "Oh my God, holy fuck!" And then she laughed, reaching out to search for his touch again. He felt... different somehow, but he was still invisible to her. Her fingers wiggled and Spencer helped her out, gently holding her hand to keep it steady, as if to convey, "I'm right here, and it's okay."

"Hi," she said through a smile, her breathing heavy. "It's... Nice to... finally meet you. Kind of. Kind of meet you, I mean... Not kind of nice. I'm sorry."

He rubbed his thumb gently over the top of hers in response.

"I'm still wrapping my head around this whole thing, I... I guess I just wanted some extra confirmation that you were really here. Can I ask you some questions, Spencer?"

He rubbed her thumb again, and she breathed out with a smile.

"Okay um... Maybe draw a circle on the back of my hand for yes and an X for no... That sound good?"

Spencer traced a circle against her skin, and she nodded. "Good! Okay, cool. This is cool. Um... Did you live here? In this apartment?"

A circle.

"Is... that why you're here now?"

An X, and then a question mark.

"No... You don't know why you're here then?"

A circle.

Y/N pondered for a moment. "Could there be something of yours that's holding you here? Something we have to find or a mystery we have to solve?"

Spencer drew another question mark, then sighed. As much as he liked Y/N, he was pretty sure she would not be able to answer any of those questions. But there had to be another way to... level up, so to speak. To make him visible or audible.

"I'm sorry," she said somberly. "From what I've read, you seem like you were a good person. I hope you figure it out, whatever it is. And... I meant it. If there's anything I can do to help you, I will."

He drew a circle on her skin, but kept going around a few times, his symbol of appreciation.

Y/N warmed at the sentiment, smiling and hanging her head to look down at the hand he was holding. He didn't know it, but her skin was tingling at his invisible touch.

"Spencer... I know this is probably going to be weird... But the night I first met you, when my friends were with me... Robin asked you if... you'd uh... If you'd seen me..."

She wouldn't look up, like she was afraid to look at him even though she still couldn't see him. She didn't finish her sentence, seeming to be embarrassed about the punchline, but Spencer didn't need it. He knew exactly what she meant. Before she had time to retreat or move on, he drew a slow circle on the back of her hand.

Her head lifted. "You did see me? Naked?"

Spencer let out a shaky breath. Hesitated. Then drew another circle, followed by S-O-R-R-Y.

"Oh, I'm not upset, I promise. You don't have to be sorry."

Something shifted in her eyes then and she paused, and Spencer realized that before when she'd asked, she wasn't embarrassed. She was simply feeling the water before diving in.

He swallowed hard.

"Did you like what you saw?"

Her voice was soft, but simultaneously hard with mischief. He looked at her then— truly looked at her with his overly-perfect Afterlife vision, and even in the dim light emanating from the open curtains and the streetlights beyond it, he could see her clear as day. Rather than the big tee-shirt she always wore to bed, tonight she was wearing something lacy and lavender.

And her door was closed. He couldn't leave this room.

Although, he had a feeling right then that it didn't matter anymore. Because his hand tightened over hers instinctively and he felt himself get hard beneath the suit pants he'd been buried in.

That's new, he thought through a sigh of excitement, quickly recalling that night he'd seen her. And heard her. Feeling was growing in his joints, and he found himself flexing his hands with a new strength he hadn't felt since being alive.

"Fuck," he hissed, shaking his head in disbelief.

I think she may be slowly bringing me back to life.

He drew a slow, sensual circle on the back of her hand, and she laughed through a grin. "I was hoping you'd say that. I was also hoping that maybe we could try something a little... unconventional. The truth is, I've always hated living alone. It's too lonely, and I hate it... Now that I have you to keep me company, though... It's not nearly as bad."

She shifted her fingers, grabbing his hand and slowly bringing it to her face. Spencer caressed her as he came closer, his knees now touching the edge of her mattress. She closed her eyes and reveled in his touch, goosebumps forming along her skin.

"Will you touch me, Spencer?"

His name falling suggestively from her lips was quite possibly the greatest thing he'd ever experienced, among life and death. The afterlife. Whatever. None of it mattered, nothing mattered right then except for Y/N and her needs.

He drew a circle on her cheek and she laughed, the sound dissolving into a rather wanton sigh when he traced his middle finger down her jaw and over her throat. Just the gentlest of touches, barely even a touch at all.

"You want this just as bad as I do, don't you?" she asked, lolling her head to the side as his finger traced her collarbone and then her shoulder.

"I do." He focused on the way her chest heaved, slowly up and down as she melted into his touch, and then traced the strap of her nightgown until he reached the front, just at the curve of her breasts.

Y/N arched her back and pulled the covers away from her body, revealing herself to him in full as she got comfortable. She scooted and leaned back against the headboard, pulling Spencer along the side of the bed. He gladly followed.

"I give you permission to touch me in any way you see fit, okay? I... I want you to do whatever feels good to you. How does that sound?"

At the invitation, he quickly let his mind wander to extremely filthy places and wondered if he had the ability to taste again...

The thought alone made him twitch beneath his pants, and suddenly there was no going back.

He let out a long breath and touched the bottom hem of her nightgown. It was already short to begin with, but since she'd moved around in bed and her feet were flat, knees pointed upward, the fabric rode up to the very tops of her thighs. He drew another continuous circle right there, just below where it ended, and Y/N instinctively started to spread her knees apart.

Spencer stopped her, gripping one knee and spelling out W-A-I-T before slipping his shoes and jacket off. She arched an eyebrow, confused at first, but then looked down to the floor when she heard his shoes being kicked back and his clothing falling there.

And then, when he was ready, she looked back to the bed in front of her as Spencer climbed and knelt, positioning himself in front of her. Her eyes watched the mattress move, and a flicker of excitement danced over her features, amusing him.

He placed his hands on her knees, and even though she'd given him permission, he asked anyway, drawing a question mark against her skin.

She nodded. "Please."

Slowly, his hands pulled her legs apart. He drew it out as long as he possibly could, curious to know how long he could test her anticipation threshold. He still planned to give her everything she wanted, of course, but there was something oddly erotic about being touched by somebody you couldn't see that she was obviously keen to explore. So he would take his time until she begged him otherwise.

Sure enough, her stare was laser-focused on her body as he moved it to his liking, her breath hitching once her legs were far enough apart for him to realize she wasn't wearing anything underneath her nightgown and he paused. Already she was glistening with arousal, a sight that nearly made Spencer go completely slack.

"How long have you wanted this..." he wondered aloud, overwhelmed and in awe as his hands traveled firmly down her inner thighs. She squirmed under his bold touch, and leaned her head back against the headboard with a soft thud.

"Please," she whimpered, her hands reaching out to grip whatever bunched up fabric she could find on the bed.

He had planned to test the waters a little longer, ever so the scientist at heart, but figured that was as good of a plea as any to give in and finally give her what she wanted.

And so, Spencer ran a gentle, steady hand down through her heat, dragging his middle finger along the seam until he barely entered her, then came back up.

The long, desperate moan that Y/N drew out was like Heaven to his ears, and he'd never been more grateful for his heightened senses than in that moment. Every breath she took, every gloriously wet sound her body made as he explored her, every rustle of her hands through the sheets... All of it was sharp and crisp, and no other symphony had ever sounded so beautiful.

He wanted more of it.

One finger became two, and Spencer looked up to watch her face as he fingered her slowly. Parted lips and focused eyes fighting to stay open despite the pleasure she was feeling made for quite the perfect view, he almost didn't want to look away. But there was so much to beauty see between her soft facial features and the curves of her body and the obvious arousing sight below him. It was overwhelming how hot he felt in that moment, he could have sworn he was glowing.

His pace quickened, and Y/N had finally given into the temptation to close her yes, her head falling back again as she rolled her hips. He was getting impatient now.

With his other hand, against the inside of her thigh, Spencer spelled out "T-A-S-T-E-?"

"Oh, God, please. Yes."

Still hesitant to scare her even though his fingers were already deep inside her, rather than diving in as he so desperately wanted to, he slowly brought his head down to meet the area between her legs. He turned to press his cheek to the soft flesh of her thigh, and she gasped, the sound fading to a low laugh as she took in the feeling of his mouth and his hair caressing her skin. He kissed her then, tentatively darting his tongue out to taste her and sighing with relief once he realized he could actually taste again. Once he had that revelation, there was no going back. He was a man starved, his kisses growing more hungry as they traveled up and up and up...

Once his tongue made curious contact with the hood of her clit, Y/N gasped again, clutching her bed sheets and rolling her hips up to meet him. Spencer groaned, and a selfish part of him wished she could hear it. He wanted her to know just how crazy she was driving him, how much he wanted her. She could certainly feel it, her reaction to the vibrations causing her muscles to flex and her toes to curl, and he decided then that it would have to do. He was just going to have to make her feel his desire so deeply that it rattled in her bones and lingered there for the rest of eternity. He wanted to ruin everybody else for her, to stay with her until the end of time.

She reached and felt around for his head, fingers threading through invisible curls as she cried out.

"Spencer, you're so— so good..."

He hummed his approval at the praise and continued to work her, adding a third finger and sucking on her clit to feel her fingers tugging at his scalp. The sensation alone had him nearly lightheaded, and he wanted to stay there forever, lost in her taste and her touch and her noises.

God, her noises...

She sighed and whined, and stretched and squelched around his fingers, and he was convinced that had he not already been dead, he would have begged whoever was listening to keep him alive just to experience her forever.

The second she struggled to keep her legs open, trapping his head between them, he knew she was quickly approaching her orgasm, and he couldn't wait. He'd heard her climax before, but being right there as it was happening felt like a privilege he would always be grateful for. He wanted to replicate everything he'd heard that night and get to feel it, too— get to be the one to make her feel that way.

"Fuck, don't stop, I'm s— so close..."

Spencer groaned into her as if to say, "I know, I can feel you." Oh, how he wished he could talk her through it, to tease her with his words... Alas, he had no choice but to encourage her with his actions, so he used his free hand to search for one of hers. She gave up her hand to lace their fingers together, and his thumb continued to draw mindless circles into her skin as she clenched and released, over and over again until she was coming.

"Spencer!" she cried to the air, over and over again as if she could will him into existence again. It was a desperate plea, a manifestation, and the both of them secretly hoped that it would work.

She wanted to see him

He wanted her to see him, too.

He felt her climax subside, and then he slowly eased his fingers out of her and trailed his tongue down to keep tasting. A part of him was scared to realize he might not actually be visible like he hoped, but he pushed the potential disappointment aside and luxuriated in the way she tasted. He delved in and gripped the underside of her thighs to keep them steady, and with a delighted groan as he pushed his tongue inside, Y/N gasped.

"Fuck, I can hear you..."

The words excited him greatly.

"Thank God."

Spencer kissed her, tasted her until she was writhing and begging him to stop.

"Please, Spencer, kiss me."

He pulled away and looked up at her, smiling even though she still couldn't see him. "I am kissing you," he replied, pressing his lips to her thigh.

"You know what I mean. Come here..."

He laughed and obliged, kissing his way up her legs and crawling up her body. He slowly dragged his hands up her stomach, bunching up her nightgown and sliding it up her body the farther he got. Her eyes watched in allure as the fabric rode up and up and up, seemingly on its own. But she knew better, she knew who was undressing her and worshipping her, and it made her squirm.

She lifted her arms over her head and let him take the clothing off, revealing her chest to the chilly air. She watched as the fabric flew to the ground, and then felt Spencer's hands return to her skin, gentle fingers raising goosebumps all over. Her nipples pinched and hardened the closer he got to them, and soon enough he was palming her breasts as he pressed his forehead to hers, wedging his body between her legs.

"Kiss me," she breathed, feeling his nose touch hers. His breath was hot against her own, and her eyes fluttered shut. "Please..."

"Anything for you, sweet girl..."

She sighed as his mouth finally collided with her own, the heady and prominent taste of her arousal growing stronger the deeper he kissed her. Their bodies couldn't stop moving, wandering hands and urgent hips, and with his newfound ability to speak to her, Spencer spoke in gentle praises. He sighed out her name reverently, telling her how good and sweet and perfect she was, and she returned every word with a whimper, in awe that he was really there. He was becoming more and more present, and she couldn't get enough.

"I want to feel you," she said against his lips, dragging her hand down his invisible chest. She fingered through every button of his shirt until it was loose and open, and the cool hum of his skin as she explored his torso made her hands numb.

Spencer kissed her jaw and groaned, feeling himself throb at her words. "Let me help..."

He grabbed her hand and guided her to the bulge in his pants, even though she could have just as easily stumbled onto it herself. The intimacy of it all was almost overwhelming, so much so that when her grip tightened softly on his clothed erection, Spencer almost came undone right then and there.

"Fuck, Y/N... I'd say you're going to be the death of me, but..."

They laughed together until she kissed him again, deeply and with a sigh. "You're becoming more and more real, but... this feels like... it feels like a dream."

He understood what she meant, and it filled him with a tinge of sadness, but her hand slowly palming him was becoming harder and harder to ignore. He gripped her wrist and his breath hitched in her ear as he nipped at it.

"Trust me, sweetheart... I am very real."

She shuddered at his words and squeezed him tighter before fumbling for his belt.

"Spencer... Do you think..." Her hands successfully undid the confines of his pants and started to slide them down over his hips, trying not to mess up her words as he sucked marks into her neck. "Do you think that if you fuck me... I'll finally be able to see you?"

"Mmm, God, I hope so," he groaned earnestly, repositioning themselves so he could kick off his pants and rest her head on the pillow. She let him take the lead, her breath getting heavier with anticipation as he positioned himself between her legs and grabbed her wrist. Once again, he was guiding her hand to his cock, hard and, this time, bare. She cursed under her breath as she gripped him and he helped her languidly stroke himself in exploration. His fingers were strong over hers, and he applied just the right amount of pressure to draw out a groan from the both of them.

"Please," she sighed out desperately through shallow breaths. "Spencer, please, I need you..."

How could he resist?

He didn't even want to entertain the thought of trying.

"Then let me take care of you, sweet girl," he cooed, hiking her thighs to rest over his hips and slowly sinking into her with ease.

Once he was all the way in, he leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to her temple, comforting her through the low burn. He slowly rolled his hips forward as she cried out his name, her fingers coming up to grip his shoulders. "You feel that?" he whispered into her skin. "How perfectly I fit inside you? It's like you were made for me..."

"Uh-huh," she stuttered in agreement.

He stopped teasing her then, pulling back to start fucking her nice and slow as she adjusted to him. Her fingers curled and knotted into the loose material of his shirt. She would have slid it off of him, but the grip on something steady was nice as she let him focus on his ministrations. He seemed to be doing just fine with the shirt on, anyway, and it was hard to even think about anything other than how good he felt.

She wondered then, as he picked up momentum and started peppering kisses down her jawline, what she looked like to the night. If she were standing there, outside her own body, watching herself being thoroughly and beautifully wrecked by something invisible and obviously enjoying every second...

Her eyes rolled back at the image, just as Spencer started going harder. His hips snapped into hers with a strength and precision that felt like it was rattling worlds. It very well could have been, and neither of them had any mind to care; They were so intensively intertwined with each other that it was a different world entirely.

They started to burn hot, that familiar warm chill of impending pleasure creeping up through their bodies and setting them alight. Y/N snaked her arms up to Spencer's neck and brought him down for a searing kiss as she melted into him, and he returned it with a fervor that elicited the most beautiful sound he'd ever heard. He felt it all the way in his bones, felt the waves of pleasure start to drag him under as she squeezed him with her limbs and started to come undone herself.

The atmosphere around them was purely electrifying, bright snaps of skin and sharp whispers of mouth combining to brew a perfect storm that nothing would ever survive. It was wild and unconstrained, glimmering and grand, and in their wake, the two entities left their desire lingering in the air for the dead of night to stew in for as long as it would allow.

Spencer collapsed on top of her with a hefty sigh, and he was grateful to be able to finally share his voice with her. The mystery and simplicity of the X's and O's were fun to indulge in at first, but now that they'd grown closer and created something beautiful and memorable together, he had to tell her exactly how he felt— no symbols, no mysteries...

He kissed her softly and pulled back to look into her eyes, dragging a thumb over her cheekbone as he told her the truth.

"You're perfect."

Her eyes went wide, welling with tears as she reached up and ran a finger softly along the bridge of his nose.

"You're beautiful."

Relief and something else—something warm—stirred in Spencer's chest at the confirmation that she could finally see him, and that she was moved by what she saw. Who she saw...

He couldn't help the smile that adorned his face, and the soft joyous laughter that escaped him as she continued to explore his features with the pads of her fingertips, like she was trying to memorize him from touch alone in case he suddenly disappeared again.

"I mean it, Spencer, you're... even more beautiful than I imagined."

"You imagined me?" he inquired rather suggestively.

With a laugh, she brought him down for a slow, searing kiss. "Duh..."

Even though they were tired, they stayed like that for hours, kissing and exploring and sighing until the sweet lull of sleep took hold and carried them through the night.

For a solid few hours until he awoke, Spencer completely forgot that he wasn't alive.

ACT III: Unfinished Business

Y/N had never done so much research in her entire life. She liked Spencer, and she was more than happy to help him out, but man... Reading dozens of articles and textbooks and blogs about the different types of spirits and how to lay them to rest was a long, exhausting road that led pretty much nowhere. There was no way to know what type of ghost Spencer was or how to help him move on, not that she could see, anyway. She didn't know if he'd age with her, or be 'undead' long enough to become vicious and bitter like a lot of the spirits she read about, and Spencer's research was just about as inconclusive as her own.

A selfish part of her hoped she'd never find out, to keep him around forever... But she also knew that wasn't fair to him. No matter how lonely she was or how much fun they had and how they enjoyed each other's company, well... The fact of the matter was, he was dead.

And he deserved to rest.

In the meantime, in the hours between headache-inducing frustration at the lack of answers, Spencer told her about his life. His friends, mostly— the best people he'd ever known. The way he described them, she had a feeling that they might hold the key to his dilemma. If not directly, perhaps there was something about him that they knew, something that might give Y/N some insight into his ghostly purpose, so to speak. Not that she couldn't ask Spencer directly, but they'd already discussed a lot of back-and-forth on enemies and people that could have wanted to harm him, all of which were surefire impossibilities. Not to mention the fact that he seemed tied to this apartment and not anything else. Maybe that didn't have anything to do with it, but neither of them knew.

It was the only other option she had.

They laid next to each other in her bed, her head laying on his chest. Her ear warmed gently, and tried as she might to hear a heartbeat, all she could hear was a faint white noise, almost like he was merely a figure of tangible energy rather than a body. She supposed that was technically what he was, but as much as she'd grown to know and like Spencer, it was hard to think of him that way. It was... sad to think of him that way.

She frowned and nestled into him, trying to push away that petulant nagging in the depths of her soul that screamed "This isn't fair!" and she told him the most difficult thing she'd ever had the courage to push past her lips.

"I think I have an idea... You can say no if you think it's too weird, but... It might help you. Maybe."

"Mmm, what's that?" he responded, curious but not audibly hopeful. It made Y/N even more sad to think he probably figured he'd never find peace.

"What if I go talk to your friends? Do you think they might know something you don't?"

There was a beat of silence before she felt his chest heave with gentle laughter. "Derek Morgan definitely wouldn't think so..."

Recalling some of the funny stories he'd told her about him, she smiled. Still, she pressed. "I mean it. What other outlets do we have? Where else is there to look? If there's anyone who knows you better than anyone else, wouldn't it be them?"

Spencer sighed, giving it a thought. His fingers raked through her hair and massaged her scalp to the point of gentle, comforting numbness, another one of those domestic moments that had her feeling absolutely conflicted.

And then, he said, "Actually... I think I know exactly who you should talk to..."

———

There was a deep chill in her bones as she approached Penelope Garcia's apartment building, but not because of the lively, rustling October wind. In fact, she wanted to throw up at the thought of having this conversation. But not because she didn't want to help Spencer. She did, more than anything.

She was just afraid of being arrested.

Spencer assured her that it would be fine and that Penelope was harmless, and while the latter she could believe, it still nerved her to wander up to a woman's door and announce that she lived in the apartment of her beloved dead co-worker and needed to help him fulfill his destiny as a spirit. It sounded like a cruel joke.

"If anyone would believe you, it would be Penelope," he'd said, comforting her with a pat on the shoulder.

Maybe it was true, but she didn't want to find out if it wasn't. It was one thing to have the door slammed in your face by a grief-stricken loved one, but a grief-stricken loved one who worked for the fucking FBI was ten times worse; There were a lot more horrifying outcomes that came with that combination.

Still, she trusted Spencer on a level she'd barely trusted anyone else, and he wasn't even alive for God's sake... So she strapped on her boots, threw on her most comfortable jacket, and braced the wind and whatever fate blew with it.

For Spencer.

"For Spencer," she muttered under her breath as she rapped on the door. Three times. Third time's the charm, three's a crowd, three clicks of the heel and you're home... Three seemed like a lucky number. Three was inviting, friendly, not intended to inflict emotional damage.

Please, God, don't let her hate me, Y/N prayed to whoever was listening. Don't let this go horribly wrong.

A bright voice was yelling beyond the door, and with every millisecond that it got louder and closer, her heart started to beat faster. Blood thrummed in her ears, and she kept repeating, "For Spencer, for Spencer, for Spencer," on a loop to remind her why she was going through all this anxiety.

The voice got closer, but still muffled, until the door swung open. Then it stopped altogether. Y/N blinked and stood there with a stiff back and sweaty palms, in front of Penelope Garcia. The woman was obviously expecting somebody else to be at the door, but she didn't look disappointed, just confused.

"Oh. You're not Luke. How can I help you?"

"Um... My name is Y/N. I... Before I tell you why I'm here, I need you to know that I'm not trying to play a trick on you, and I don't want to make you sad or upset, and if there's anything you need or want to know about me in order to trust me, then I'll gladly give you that information, but this is really important and I need you to know that I'm not crazy or harmful, I just want to help him."

Penelope's eyes went wide as she reached out and grabbed her hand. The thrumming in her ears got louder as she took a deep breath and waited for the yelling to start, her body to be thrown to the ground, or a sharp piercing sting of a backhand.

The only thing she felt, however, was a tug at her heart and the gentle dissipation of nerves as Penelope spoke one simple word.

"Spencer."

"How... How did you know?"

"Ever since he... Since he's been... I just knew something didn't feel right. Everyone told me that it was just grief, and for a while that's also what I told myself, but... That feeling was just too... Wait, who did you say you were again?"

Y/N stuttered her name and gripped Penelope's hand tighter, hoping to create some rapport. "I live in his apartment. He's been... Visiting me."

Something in her eyes softened and then saddened at the confirmation that her friend was somehow still among the living. "A visitor in his own home... Poor Boy Genius..."

She couldn't help but smile at the nickname. "He said you called him that often..."

Wide eyes welling with tears, Penelope nodded and tugged at her visitor's hand. "He was the smartest person I ever knew. Kindest, too. Here, come on inside, I'll make you some tea. Do you like tea? Maybe some hot chocolate?"

Her hospitality as she ushered her inside was both comforting and saddening to Y/N. It was in her nature to be that way to guests, even strangers, sure, but it also acted as a shield from the somber feelings she'd been rushed with at a moment's notice, no thanks to said stranger.

"I'm so sorry to bother you, Penelope," Y/N rushed as she shrugged her coat off. "You don't have to make me anything."

"Oh, I know I don't have to, but would you like something warm to drink?"

She was practically begging for the distraction, something to do with her hands as she had time to process and prepare for what was about to happen.

"Tea would be lovely, thank you."

"Perfect, I'll get it started. Make yourself comfortable, Sweets."

She carried her coat over her arms, holding it to her chest like a tether to reality. None of this felt real, even though she could still feel the warm glow of Spencer's energy all around her, like it had burrowed into the pores of her skin and made a home there.

As she looked around at Penelope's bright and colorful space, she thought about him... How often had he been here? What did they do together, and where did they hang out? She imagined the laughter and the stories and the cooking... She wished she would have known him then, been a part of his life. As scary as he told her it was at times, she knew there were also plenty of bright spots, and she knew Penelope was definitely one of the brightest.

Y/N smiled, hugging her coat tighter.

"I like your apartment," she complimented, sitting down at a small dining table in the corner.

"Thank you! I always told Spencer he should get some more color, but... What can I say, he really loved his neutrals."

The familiar detail brought a smile to her face. "That doesn't surprise me. He told me that even though he likes me, he really hates my floral couch and that it looked weird in his apartment. I told him he was boring." And, that technically, it was her apartment now. In fact, her exact words after the fact were, "What are you going to do, haunt me?" before they both laughed and continued making out on said couch.

But she didn't need to remind Penelope of the fact that he was gone. Or to inform her that she was intimately involved with his ghost.

Just the thought alone was enough to make the low, ever-present hum of his imprinted memory on her skin even more intense, and she smiled.

"Oh... I know that look."

Y/N looked up at Penelope, who was grinning with the most mischievous gleam in her eye.

"What look?"

"You think he's cute, don't you?"

"I... I don't..."

"Well, I suppose even if you can't see him, I'm sure he's charmed you anyway. And you probably Googled him."

"How did you—"

"It's what I would have done... So?" she prompted, still waiting for an answer of some kind.

Y/N sighed, defeated and impressed by Penelope's skills at quickly retrieving information. But she also didn't want to lie to her, so she had no choice but to answer her questions with the truth anyway. "Well, I can see him. But I couldn't at first. My um... My friends came over one night, and they brought a Ouija board. We used it for shits and giggles because I'd joked to them after I moved in that I didn't feel totally alone, and well..."

"It wasn't a joke?"

Penelope brought over the tea, steaming and aromatic. Y/N took it with a nod of thanks and sighed as she sat down across from her.

"No. But I didn't actually think I was living with a ghost, I mean... I didn't believe in that stuff. But I also wasn't going to risk pissing him off, so I tried to be nice to him. I only knew his name, and then my friends looked him up and we read his obituary, and... I don't know, I guess I just thought he seemed like a good person, so he deserved some kindness in the afterlife. I said hello to the air every time I came home from work, I yelled out a good night before going to bed... And then he started leaving me notes on my bathroom mirror, and I guess... I don't know, the more he and I got to know each other, the easier things became. Eventually he could touch things, and then soon after he was audible, then visible..."

She conveniently left out the details of that journey, though her skin warmed again at the memory.

"And now that we can communicate, it's become clear to me that he doesn't know where he's going— Why he's not at rest... I feel bad for him. He deserves..." Her breath caught in her throat, and she swallowed hard before looking down at the mug in her hand. "He deserves to move on."

Penelope was quiet for a moment as Y/N sipped her tea. Her hand reached out to grab hers, and the gesture almost had her in tears.

"You sound... Sad about that."

She couldn't help the pressure that pulsed behind her eyes, stabbing at her throat... Still, she made herself speak, barely above a whisper to prevent that inevitable cracking of the voice that would surely break the dam she was trying so hard to keep still and strong. "I... I know it sounds absolutely crazy..."

"You're falling in love with him."

Though the words didn't come from her own mouth, they came flying at her like a sucker punch to the gut. The wind was knocked out of her for a moment, until all she could do was exhale and let the tears fall silently as she nodded.

Penelope let her cry for a minute or two without a word while holding her hand, until she was ready to elaborate. "But I can't... I can't keep him here, it's not right. If he doesn't have any unfinished business, then he should be put to rest. And I... I don't know how to help him. I thought maybe, if I could talk to the people who knew him the best... I could get an idea."

"Oh, Honey, I... I'm sorry, but I don't know any more than you do." She was talking through tears herself, and Y/N squeezed her hand back. "His mother's been gone for years now, and there's no other family that he was close enough with to even consider, other than us, but... Truthfully I don't know if we really count in the grand scheme of things... I'd like to think that we do..."

"You might not be blood-related, but you were his family. He loved you so much, I could tell by the way he spoke about all of you. He... He misses you a lot. I just wish he didn't have to feel that loss anymore."

Penelope frowned. "I wish I could give you an answer... When you go back to him... Will you at least tell him that we love him?"

"He already knows. But yes. I will."

"And I'll keep on thinking. Whatever you need, you got it. I have access to pretty much everything so if there's information to be had, I will get my paws on it, and you will know. Thank you for coming to see me. And for telling me that Spencer's okay... He is okay, right?"

Y/N hesitated. She wasn't entirely sure how to answer without giving away their extra-curricular activities. "I think so. He's tired, I can tell. But I do my best to keep him happy. The last thing I need is to have him angrily haunting me."

Penelope laughed, then sighed. "Unfortunately, I think that means you better get rid of that glorious couch, then."

The laughter was a welcome break from the tears, which had already started to dry on her skin, leaving her cheeks itchy. "I really appreciate you being so kind, Penelope... Losing Spencer must have been absolutely impossible, and having a complete stranger show up at your door and pour salt in the wound... I couldn't imagine..."

"Y/N... If there was any person on this planet who could have moved into his apartment and helped him through this... I think I speak for the whole BAU when I say that he's lucky it's you."

The sentiment made her chest tight, and an involuntary pout tugged at her mouth. "You... You really mean that?"

Penelope laughed and squeezed her hand again. "Oh, Darling, you even pout like him... You're kind of perfect for each other."

"I don't know whether to be happy or sad about that," she replied through a fit of hysterics, and Penelope joined her.

It was clear then that these two women were meant to bond seamlessly over the loss of someone dear, one in life and the other in death. They were two sides of the same coin, a best friend and an anchor to the other side. It was a solace that neither of them had expected, but welcomed with open arms and warm understanding.

They exchanged stories and laughs and phone numbers and hugs, and joked about exchanging addresses, and a while later, just as Y/N was about to go home, fastening her coat, Penelope stopped her.

"Wait... I don't mean to make you sad or anything, and maybe this isn't the answer that either of you were looking for... But after today? If I didn't know any better, I'd say that Spencer's unfinished business is you."

The thought froze her entirely. It would stand to reason that they were meant to find each other, only to let each other go. Because, of course. Nobody was ever that lucky, especially neither Spencer nor his new roommate.

Sensing her overthinking, Penelope continued. "I know it's unfortunate given the circumstances, but... You did say that the more you got to know him, the more... alive he became. At least as alive as he can be. And I've only known you for about an hour, but I can confidently say that you are about as perfect for Spencer as somebody could be for anybody. And..."

She shifted on her feet, unsure of whether she should actually say what she was about to tell her, but obviously needing to make her point with as much context as possible. "You know, he's tried. He watched many of us find love and have families of our own, and he's always wanted that, but... He never got to have it. I think... that was the one thing that he always truly and completely wanted, especially after his mom passed and he had no one left but us... Somebody to go home to, somebody who understood him and cared about him and wanted to spend the rest of their lives with him... A soulmate. And... Y/N, I think it might be you."

Her head was swimming and tears were blurring her vision again. As much as she wanted to believe it, ever the lover of grand romantic endings, it didn't make sense. She didn't really believe in soulmates, did she? Then again, she didn't believe in ghosts, either, until recently...

"How could you possibly know that?" she whispered to Penelope, hoping for a switch in her brain to flip. She wanted to believe it. She wanted to dash home and confidently confess to the ghost living in her apartment that they were made for each other and that she could finally set him free.

And... Then what?

There had to be another explanation.

"I wish I could tell you how, definitively," Penelope answered sadly, "and like I said, I don't want to upset you... But it's just a feeling. And my feelings are hardly ever wrong. Hey, I mean I had a feeling that Spencer was still out there somehow, and that turned out to be true, right?"

"I... I guess," she sniffled.

"Just... Do me a favor, okay? Think about it. Spend tonight with him, like you normally do, and really really think about it. And tell me you don't feel it."

It almost sounded like a playful challenge rather than a request. Y/N wiped at her eyes and sighed. "You're really sure?"

"Positive."

Y/N wasn't really sure if she believed it still, but there was a conviction in Penelope's voice that was too sincere to ignore. And Spencer trusted her, which obviously meant a lot.

So, she promised that she would think about it anyway, bade her new friend farewell, and made her way outside, where the wind had died and left the streets lifeless and quiet.

———

Something was different about Y/N when she came home.

Spencer tried to let her go about the night and refrain from saying anything, but after regretfully informing him that Penelope had no wisdom to offer her about their situation but would get back to her if anything did come to mind, she was... odd. Perhaps she was just as tired as he was in trying to solve this mystery, or just tired in general. But he didn't want to push her if she didn't want to open up, so he did what he could and offered his company.

Still, she didn't seem right.

He thought maybe a flurry of warm, tender kisses along her skin would put her in high spirits, but the longer she let him worship her skin without so much as a sigh in return, it started to sink in that something was deeply wrong.

"Are you okay?" he asked sweetly, stroking her jaw with the back of his hand as he looked her in the eye. She looked at him for only a few seconds before averting her gaze, like if she allowed him to meet her eyes for any longer, he'd pull something from her that she'd rather not share. It sent a small wave of panic through him. "Y/N, talk to me, please... What's wrong? Did something happen?"

"No," she said unconvincingly.

"You don't... have to talk about it if you don't want to... But you're upset about something, and I want to help you. I'll do whatever you need me to. I'll listen, I'll leave you alone, I'll kiss it better... Whatever you want. It's yours."

She squeezed her eyes shut and took a deep breath, defeated. "God, you FBI people are too good at getting information out of people, it's annoying."

Spencer laughed. "It wasn't my intention to make you feel interrogated. I'm sorry."

"No, it's okay, you didn't do anything wrong. I'm just... I'm..."

She couldn't seem to get out the words, like there was a frustrating lack of understanding how to convey them. He drew continuous circles gently into her palm and waited patiently for her to open up, silently promising that he would be there for her when she finally found the right words.

It was a question that she finally settled on. "Have you ever been in love? Like... Really in love?"

Something inside him jolted at the thought of where this conversation might lead. If he had a heartbeat, it would have raced and thrummed so heavily that the organ might have failed. In truth, he'd been thinking about it for a week or two now. Ever since the night he realized that his interactions with her were the key to becoming more sentient, the thought crossed his mind that perhaps she was the thing he was tethered to.

He didn't dare say it out loud, or to her face, because... Well, it was too soon, wasn't it? And it wouldn't have mattered anyway, because once he was lain to rest, they could never be together.

It was complicated.

"I think I was, a few times," he finally answered in earnest. "And to be fair, just because things didn't work out with them, it doesn't mean I didn't really love them. I did. But... I think deep down I knew they weren't really The One... Does that make sense?"

"I think so... I don't think I've ever been in love before. Even with long-term partners, we said the words, and I felt something that was happy and I thought was love, but..." She paused, avoiding his eye again before rapidly blinking back tears. "Now I feel this... this anchor to you that I can't let go of... I want to be around you all the time and I know it's not fair because you deserve to rest, but I can't help it. Spencer, I... You're the best thing that's ever happened to me. And I'm afraid that once I really admit it out loud, you'll be gone forever."

He knew, then, that this was it. Listening intently as she confessed, absorbing every word and allowing himself to feel and admit what he knew to be true for a while now, his body began to tingle. It was so dull at first, he almost mistook the feeling for 'butterflies'. It felt cruel not to tell her that he was starting to fade, but he didn't want to ruin the moment or panic her. He didn't want to tell her that she was running out of time. That they were running out of time.

So, instead, to try and ease the blow, he told her something sweet.

He told her, "I love you."

Her eyes glossed over at the confession. She reached urgently for his hands, her grip strong and willing like she knew what was going to happen. And maybe she did. Still, she sat there and listened to him, her eyes taking in every inch of his presence and committing him to memory.

He aimed to make it a memory she would never forget.

"I don't know when we'll see each other again, but I don't doubt that we will. Not for a second. And until then, my only wish is that you keep allowing yourself to fall in love. Don't be afraid of it. You shouldn't deny yourself just because I'm gone. Can you promise me that you'll try?"

Y/N blinked away tears and tugged at his hands. "What if I can't?"

"You will, my sweet girl. And I promise, I won't be mad at you."

She laughed despite herself, then almost cried again when she felt his presence start to fizzle and break in front of her eyes. She was desperate to hold on to him, clutching his hands for dear life and breathlessly whispering, "I love you, Spencer Reid," as if the conviction alone would be enough to keep him here. As if whatever cruel deity was putting them through this would see how much she needed him and decided to spare her the misery.

"I wish I could have known you when I was alive," he told her, leaning in closer. "Maybe we could have been neighbors."

She smiled through tears and pressed her forehead to his, the contact making her skin go numb. Silently she hoped that wherever he was going, she would be sucked in with him. "Then I would have invited you over for dinner."

He squeezed her hands, already feeling his grip fading, his essence nearly numbing him. Still, he willed himself to stay long enough to paint this life for the two of them—one they would never get to have, except only in dreams and perhaps in another life entirely. Anything was possible, after all.

"And I still would have made fun of your ugly couch."

"And I would have pushed you onto it and made you take it back."

"And I would have refused."

"And I would have kissed you ."

"And I would have kissed you back."

"And I would have fallen in love with you immediately."

"And I would have sworn that I'd fall in love with you in every universe."

She closed her eyes, feeling the very last remnants of his presence as she whispered, "I think it's safe to assume that you already have."

"And I think I'm inclined to agree."

THE END

[intrepidacious]

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marvel

x reader augustus pugliese · bucky barnes · druig · joaquín torres · kate bishop · matt murdock · natasha romanoff · peter parker (tasm) · pietro maximoff · sam wilson · xu shang-chi · steve rogers · stucky · wanda maximoff

other bucky barnes (general) · steve rogers (general) · stucky · weird little barnes

mcu adjacent

chris evans characters x reader andy barber · ari levinson · chris evans · colin shea · curtis everett · frank adler · jake jensen · james mace · johnny storm · ransom drysdale

sebastian stan characters x reader carter baizen · chase collins · chris beck · chris (destroyer) · frank (endings, beginnings) · jefferson · lee bodecker · max burnett · mickey henry · nick fowler · sebastian stan

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x reader eddie munson · robin buckley · steddie · steve harrington

other steddie

misc

x reader

azriel (acotar) · benedict bridgerton (bridgerton) · clark kent (dc universe) · dick grayson (dc universe) · eloise bridgerton (bridgerton) · fred weasley (harry potter) · geralt of rivia (the witcher) · jake "hangman" seresin (top gun: maverick) · james norrington (pirates of the caribbean) · jamie tartt (ted lasso) · jaskier (the witcher) · jason todd (dc universe) · nikolai lantsov (grishaverse) · robert "bob" floyd (top gun: maverick) · roy kent (ted lasso) · sherlock holmes (enola holmes) · spencer reid (criminal minds) · spike (buffy the vampire slayer)

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james norrington x oc