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reidsdaisies · 2 days

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innate response

༉‧´ˎ˗ paring; spencer reid x gn!reader ༉‧´ˎ˗ summary; your emotions are nothing to be embarrassed about, especially after the death of a loved one. you still need that assurance from spencer, though. ༉‧´ˎ˗ content warnings; loss of a family member, comfort, JJ pops up aka my bae. ༉‧´ˎ˗ wc; 1.0k ༉‧´ˎ˗ a/n; i liked this idea but idk how well it turned out, i guess you’ll have to tell me 😭<3

cm masterlist ; main masterlist ; request guidelines ; inbox

You were embarrassed with yourself, utterly embarrassed.

You shouldn’t have been, after all, crying is a natural instinct. It’s a byproduct of sad emotions. Crying in front of others, however, has always been viewed as a shameful act, something revealing weakness. You must be composed 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, especially in your field of work, but you couldn’t put an end to the waterworks, not that day.

You took to biting your nails in order to divert your attention from the tears that spilled out of your eyes. You could feel how chapped your lips had become as your fingers brushed against them, and the stickiness in the corners of your eyes from the mix of salty water and mascara.

You’d make it to the jet early, before your other team members, and had quickly occupied a seat near the end of the jet, a cushioned seat with a view out the window.

Despite your best efforts, you just couldn’t keep yourself composed out in the field, constantly either on the verge of tears or a violent outburst, and so Hotchner advised you that it’d be best and most productive for the rest of them if you stayed back at the precinct. You knew why he told you to, but you couldn’t help but feel dejected, cast aside while the others worked to catch the killer. On any normal day you’d be just as capable as any other agent to be in the field, but it wasn’t any normal day, and so you nodded, slinging your bag over your shoulder and trudging back into the station.

You couldn’t and wouldn’t blame your feelings on your boss, though, you could blame someone else. Someone with not half as many morals, or half as much empathy as Hotch had.

You didn’t want to feel or, more importantly, be useless, so you tagged along with Emily to get statements from two of the families affected, and did your best to help until the arrest was made, a confession was given, and it was time to head back home.

Footsteps from behind told you that someone else had made it on the jet, and Spencer walked past, paying you a glance. You immediately looked away, turning your attention right back out the circular window, staring at the concoction of dull grays outside, rubbing at your cheeks.

When Spencer returned a few minutes later, it was with a mug of coffee for him, and a bottle of water for you. You could feel him staring at you, wondering if it was alright to sit, before he did it anyway. He slid into the chair beside you, resting his mug on the table and putting the bottle in your hand. You mouthed a ‘thank you’, but didn’t move to drink from it.

“They’re all finishing up, they should be back in a few minutes.” He informed you, taking a sip of his caffeinated drink.

You didn’t respond, just working to wipe away the already there tears and force back the ones about to fall, wanting to hide their presence from the man beside you. It’s like you couldn’t stop, and you hadn’t since you finally got a moment alone.

“Crying isn’t something to be ashamed of, Y/N. It’s an innate physiological response to various emotions. When we cry, our bodies release stress hormones and endorphins, which can mitigate emotional pain. It also serves as a form of nonverbal communication, a way to communicate our feelings to others.”

Sometimes it’s hard to follow along with Spencer and his textbook-like way of speech, but you picked up that what he shared with you was intended to make you feel less embarrassed by your crying, reminding you that it’s normal.

Your fingers raked through your hair to get it out of your face as you nodded, still pouty and teary-eyed.

“I can tell you’re sad because of your tears, well, that, and the nature of this case, your relation to it.” You could practically see the wheels in his brain churning, searching for relative information.

“You know, this isn’t uncommon, nearly 65.5 per 100,000–“ he began, before you cut him off with an accusatory glare. “That’s not gonna help, sorry..”

“It’s okay, Spence,” you sniffle, your voice a barely there whisper as you sunk back into the seat, arms folded over your chest.

“No, it’s not. I’ve never lost someone in this way, but I can empathize and know that it’s not an okay thing, it’s a very tough thing.”

You swallowed roughly, acknowledging his words.

“Is there.. uhm, is there anything I can do to help?” He asked in earnest.

“I’m.. not sure. I don’t think there’s anything left to do now but attend a funeral.” You whispered. The last thing you wanted to do was relive the pain once more by witnessing everyone, some people with barely any relation to your relative, mourn the loss.

“Do you need someone to accompany you?”

“Are you inviting yourself to his funeral?”

“What? No!” He squeaked out, just as more team members filed into the plane. “I just didn’t know if you wanted to do it alone..” he lowered his voice to a softer volume.

“I don’t want to..” you replied, mulling over the thought of Spencer joining you on Saturday. “Are you sure you’d come? Surround yourself with sadness, just for me?”

He nodded, making it clear that it really is no bother, plus it’s not like he had plans anyway.

“Yes, I’m sure. I’d do anything for you, Y/N, I- you’re my friend.”

You chewed contemplatively on your lower lip. “Okay, I want you to come.”

Spencer smiled at your invitation, nodding, mentally making a note that he now has a commitment on the weekend.

Just as you finished speaking, a hand came down on your head, playfully ruffling your hair. The only person you knew to do that to you was JJ. Your tears were dried for the most part, but so were your lips, but luckily she came in clutch with a stick of lip balm, the flavor of your favorite fruit.

“I got this for you, Y/N.” She smiled, placing the lip balm in your hand as you reached up. “I’m glad to see you’ve stopped crying.”

“Thank Spencer.” You said with a slight smile, already popping the cap off and applying the substance to your chapped lips.

She patted his shoulder, “Good going, Spence,” and left him smiling into his coffee, happy to help.

Spencer Reid hurt/comfort taglist: @tw1npeaks @bellasprettywords @spencerssoup @hiireadstuff @icarlydotcom0719 @broadwaytraaaaash @khxna

If you’d like to join my taglist click here! Or dm to be removed x

Let me know your thoughts about this in the comments or my inbox and like & reblog to support! Much love <33

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reidsgfbf · 8 months

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I Want Your Love

spencer reid x gn! reader

in which spencer surprises the rest of the team with his music taste, which may or may not have been influenced by his partner he hasn't had the decency to tell them about yet

inspired by the fact i had I Want Your Love by Transvision Vamp in my head recently

warnings : no use of y/n, a few swear words here and there, characters may be a lil ooc, reader is only mentioned, they/them pronouns for reader

word count : 541 words, proofread

Of course, Spencer ended up drawing the short straw when the rest of the team was deciding who would drive them to the local police station. He'd only gone to the toilet, albeit reluctantly, for a few minutes, and when he'd gotten back, Morgan had tossed him the keys to one of the SUVs and told him he was driving.

Spencer agreed, only on the condition that he got to play music on the drive. The rest of the team reluctantly agreed, thinking they'd only be treated to classical music as they all bundled into the SUV.

Spencer slipped into the driver's seat, took his phone out of his pocket, which you'd bought him and taught him how to use, plugged the aux cord into it, and brought up the playlist you and he had made together.

He made sure everyone had their seatbelts on- because did you know that there's a mortality rate of approximately 50% of people who don't wear seatbelts in moving vehicles?- and then started playing his music.

The opening guitar riff of I Want Your Love by Transvision Vamp sounded out in the vehicle and nearly everyone did a double take as Spencer pulled out of the parking space and hummed along to the music. This is not what they were expecting at all.

"When the hell did you start listening to this stuff, pretty boy?" Morgan asked, narrowly dodging Emily's wayward arms as she and JJ danced to the music.

"My partner introduced it to me," Spencer replied simply and everyone paused, including Emily and JJ. The car was silent, apart from the music playing, as everyone, sans Spencer, digested this information.

"Your... partner?" Emily asked slowly, making sure she heard that right.

"Yep." Spencer responded, popping the 'p'.

"Since when have you had a partner?" JJ asked. Spencer thought for a second.

"Since about five months, two weeks, fifty-seven days and sixteen hours ago," Spencer responded precisely. "But it feels like longer."

His little lovestruck grin made Morgan snicker, which was quickly cut off when Emily jabbed her elbow into his ribs.

"Where did you meet this elusive partner of yours?" Rossi asked.

"At a museum. They were arguing with security about an incorrect factoid about Christopher Columbus actually." Spencer chuckled. "Because he wasn't actually the first European to set foot in America. In fact, he never set foot in America at all. He set foot in the Bahamas instead. The first European to ever set foot in America was actually the Viking Leif Erikson, son of Erik the Red, who discovered Greenland. Leif then discovered what is now Newfoundland and Labrador."

Emily snorted. "Trust you to meet the love of your life at a museum where they argued with the security."

Spencer laughed. "I stepped in and helped them argue with the security, but it ended up with us both getting kicked out, so we went to have some ice cream together instead, and we got to know each other."

By now I Want Your Love had finished, and now the playlist turned onto Lovecats by the Cure. Emily laughed.

"I definitely want to meet the person who has such a cool music taste now." She grinned.

"Maybe at some point," Spencer replied.

#reidsgfbf #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid x gender neutral reader #spencer reid x you

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supercriminalbean · 1 year

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Jets of panic.

Spencer Reid x Gender Neutral Reader.

Summary: After a bad case Reader has a bad panic attack on the Jet and Spencer helps calm them down.

Warning: Panic attacks, anxiety, mental health, bombings, death, blood, school bombings, slapping, crying, angst, fluff. (If I have forgotten anything let me know)

Words: 1.8k

A/N: I rewrote this/ edited this in 10 minutes and then got bored near the end so I'm sorry for the rough ending but I tried its been a long day. I wrote this last year before I knew how to write (spoiler I still can’t write) so yeah I would love some feedback, thank you enjoy.

As you sit there on the jet couch, staring off into space. Beginning to daydream as the team starts their debriefing of the last case. Your head is buzzing, with the events of the last few days, still trying to process everything you have been through. This case wasn't the worst that you have had, but that doesn’t mean it was easy. It's never easy when you watch someone you were meant to save die right in front of your eyes, and manage to get out of the situation, with only a concussion and small scratches.

~~~

You can’t help but let the bombing replay over and over again in your mind. The way you fell to the ground, unable to move for a good minute. Only able to open your eyes and watch as the student you were escorting out of the building lay lifeless in front of you, her eyes staring straight into your soul. Everytime you try to close your eyes, you just see her face staring back at you, a feeling of helplessness and guilt filling you up, knowing it should be you instead. The room is a blaze, you can feel the room starting to heat up, but still your body refuses to move. Your ears are ringing from the loud blast, your mind unable to process what is happening in the moment, until you feel a pair of hands on your body pulling you up. Your eyes shoot over landing on a pair of scared eyes belonging to Morgan. Who you know must have run inside the building, after the explosion.

“Save her, we need to help her” Your words are a mess, as you try pulling away from him, your strength suddenly returning to your body.

“We need to go, there’s no time,” Morgan says firmly. Wrapping his arm around your waist pulling you along with him. Ignoring your pleas to go back and help the girl, his mind is more focused on the second bombing in the building.

~~~

Your mind stays centred on replaying the scene over and over again, focusing on the girl's face. Never hearing Hotch call out to you repeatedly, the whole team now watching you worried. They all know you’re taking this case hard, going internal rather than speaking about your worries. Morgan, who's sitting beside you, places a hand lightly on your shoulder to get your attention. You jump quickly, so far away in your own mind, you didn’t even notice that your hand had gone up as you turned round to face him. Only realising when the smack echoes around the jet, a gasp leaves your lips as your eyes widens. Fear and panic spreading throughout your body.

“I'm so sorry” You squeak out, As you spirit off to the bathroom, before anyone could stop you. Locking the door as you fall to your knees.

~~~

Tears are flowing down your face, as you lean against the door. Heart racing away in your chest, as you struggle to breathe. You're fully aware that you're having a panic attack, but your team is right outside the door, so you know you have to do your best at staying quiet. Pulling your knees up to your chest, hiding your head between your knees, allowing the tears to roll down, as your mind continues to race. You didn't mean to hit Derek, you just got startled. One of your reactions is to spin around, but your hand was already up and apparently had different plans. Morgan must hate you now, why wouldn't he? You slapped him for no reason. You never wanted your team to see you like this.

~~~

There's a gentle knock on the door, making you jump slightly, you don't respond.

“Hey (Y/n) can you open the door please, we just want to make sure you're okay” JJ's soft voice comes through. Shaking your head as a response, deciding to stay verbally quiet. You weren't ready for everyone to see you like this.

“Come on (Y/n) please, just let us check on you okay?” JJ sighs softly, knocking again. The whole team became filled with worry, when they saw you run off to the bathroom, after slapping Morgan. Morgan was shocked when he realised you had slapped him, more concerned than anything else. He got up straight away, wanting to go after you. But Hotch stopped him, wanting to give you some space to calm down first.

~~~

You wipe the tears off your face, but somehow they seem to keep flowing. You hear more footsteps approaching as a harsher knock comes against the door.

“(Y/n) open the door now, I don't want to have to kick it down but I will” Morgan sighs, looking at JJ with concern. “Come on kid, you're worrying us” Morgan's voice calls out, gentle but harsher than JJ. You close your eyes tired, pulling at your hair feeling stressed out. You don't want people to see how broke you are. You get that they are worried about you, but you just can't deal with it, not right now. Hearing more rushes footsteps quickly approche, the talking outside, sounding like an argument beginning to break out. It soon goes quiet as you hear the footsteps walking away.

~~~

It stays quiet for a minute, before you hear a soft knock on the door.

“Hey (Y/n/n) its Spence, I've sent the others away, can you just unlock the door for me?” Spencer speaks softly, his voice calming you. Slowly you reach up unlocking the door, moving out of the way so he can open it. The door opens quietly, he slips inside before closing it behind him. He looks down, spotting you leaning against the wall. Staying silent, he joins you on the floor, breaking his heart as he sees you like this. Your face stained with tears, your hair a mess where you were yanking at it.

“Are you alright?” He asks after a bit of silence, turning to watch you. Shaking your head faintly, your tears having finally stopped. Spencer places his hand carefully on your knee, rubbing a circular pattern. Gradually you lean your head on his shoulder, your heart still pounding away. While your mind now just feel empty and froggy. Feeling like you can’t even think straight even if your mind has just fallen quiet all of a sudden.

~~~

“Morgan okay?” You finally speak, your voice is rough due to the crying.

“He's fine, he's worried about you, everyone is” Reid speaks gently. His hand is still drawing patterns on your knees, the sensation helping calm you.

“I didn't mean to slap him” You let out a heavy breath, closing your eyes.

“We know, It was a good hit though” Spencer smiles at you gently, earning a small laugh.

“I don't want to go out there, not yet”

“We don't have to, we can stay in here as long as you need” Smiling weakly as you listen to Reids breathing, matching his. Helping slow your racing heartbeat down to a normal pace.

~~~

“Spence, can you tell me something, just anything please?” You ask faintly. Feeling tired and weak, keeping your eyes closed. Reid stays quiet for a bit, thinking.

“I was thinking about entering a chess tournament this weekend, but I think that would be a bit unfair seeing as I would easily beat everyone,” Reid laughs lightly, earning a small chuckle from you.

“You really think you can beat everyone, don't ya Dr Reid” Smirking slightly, opening your eyes.

“Well I mean, I can easily calculate what moves they will make and be able to beat them in less than 5”

“That is why I don't like playing games with you” You laugh slightly, teasing him.

“It's not my fault you're easy to read (Y/n/n)” Reid teases you back smiling. Happy to see the colour returning back to your cheeks.

~~~

“Are you ready to go back out?” Reid asks, removing his hand on your knee, you nod. Ready to stand up, as your heart starts beating faster and your mind decides to start spinning once more. They are all going to ask you questions, staring at you. What if they are already talking about you, who knows what they could be saying. What if Hotch doesnt think you're fit for the job anymore, and fires you. You can’t lose this job, you don't want to lose your team, your family. Your breathing picks up speeds, finding it hard to breathe once more.

“Hey hey, (Y/N) look at me, look at me” Reid speaks gently, placing his hand on your knee again. You shake your head refusing to look at him, while your mind starts to spin. Spencer places his hand on your cheek softly, turning you to look at him. Tears slide down your face again.

“I'm sorry , I'm so sorry” Crying out, your head dropping, trying to get away from him. Reid doesn't let you, wrapping his arms around and pulling you into his body. Your face hides away in his chest, snuggling into his touch.

“Don't be sorry, it's alright, just listen to my breathing okay” His voice is calm but firm. He starts taking deeper, calming breaths. You start doing the same, keeping in time with him. Listening to his heart beat, closing your eyes, finding peace in his heartbeat. You stay there for a while in silence. Soon he starts humming your favourite song, earning a faint smile from you. Slowly moving your head out of his chest, resting against his shoulder.

~~~

You two sit in the bathroom, for close to an hour. Once you are fully calm down, thanks to the help of listening to Spencer , talk about random facts. Earning smiles and small comments from you.

“Okay Spencer, I'm ready” Smiling weakly, he smiles back, getting up. He holds a hand out for you, taking it, pulling yourself up. You fix your hair before walking out.

~~~

It's been over an hour since you locked yourself in the bathroom. The team has been extremely concerned about you, but decided to give Reid and you some space. Rossi and JJ are still sitting in the same place talking and laughing, while Morgan and Emily have moved to sit at the back. Emily is reading her books and Morgan has his headphones on staring out the window. Hotch is doing his usual round of after case paperwork, on the table opposite them. Morgan looks up as you walk past, giving you a small smile. Reid takes your hand in his, leading you towards the couch. Taking a seat on the couch, resting your head on his shoulder. Positioning yourself, so that you're half laying down, with your leg out on the couch. Spencer wraps his arm around you, holding you close, as your body begins to relax, feeling at home in his arms. Closing your eyes, knowing you need to deal with everything that has happened. But, you can do that when you land, as you let yourself drift off to sleep in Spencer's arms.

#criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x reader one shot #spencer reid x gender neutral reader #spencer reid x reader fluff #criminal minds one shot

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spencersties · 1 year

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Gif is by @fightingdragonswithwho

First kisses with Spencer in different tropes

A/N: Just a little drabble I thought would be fun to write, let me know if I missed any important ones out.

Content/Warnings: Kissing (obviously), I'd say this one is rated like 15/16+ so read at your own risk, fluff, angst

Word Count: 280

Masterlist | Navigation

Strangers to lovers:

A little awkward, a little hesitant but so so caring.

I'm thinking maybe like a little accidental brush of the lips, followed by some incoherent mumbling and an intentional kiss filled with a gentle sort of newness after that.

Rivals to lovers:

A short and sudden kiss, probably to cut off the other's opposing argument. It's quick and maybe a little too harsh, and it definitely stuns you both into silence for a couple of seconds. It's immediately followed by a passionate kiss that has you moulded close together.

Friends with benefits:

This one is very vivid in my mind for some reason.

I feel like he would hug you from behind, wrapping his arms around you, totally comfortable with touching your body in an intimate way. You'd turn your head and share a slow and passionate kiss that lasts little while and has you both a bit out of breath.

Second chance romance:

One hand under your shirt, trailing your upper body, the other hand finding it's way into your hair. Maybe even stroking the side of your face as he pours everything into the kiss. Relief, longing, possibly some frustration. It's everything about him wrapped up in a kiss that escalates ridiculously quickly because he's just had enough of being away from you.

Enemies to lovers:

A panted "kiss me" leaving either your or his lips and you're colliding. It's rough and all-consuming, and he's biting your lip while you're tugging harshly at his hair. All of a sudden, you're backed against a wall with him all around you and your hands around his neck, both of your lips a bright and swollen red.

Request to be on my taglist

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x you #dr spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid x gender neutral reader #vikswriting #criminalminds #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds fic #bau team #spencer reid blurb #criminal minds drabble

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p0isonyouth · 11 months

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Spencer: Do you ever feel like exploding? Have you experienced the urge to enter the process of combustion? Has your mind created a logical idea, known as thought, to disperse your body into thousands of particles suddenly? Y/N: It’s 3 am, please go back to sleep.

#spencer reid #dr reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x gender neutral reader #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds incorrect quotes #incorrect quotes #criminal minds #reid #imagines

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likedovesinthewindd · 1 year

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howdy! i’ve got a request for spencer reid x gn!autistic reader? or if you’re not feeling the autistic reader, can the reader have chronic pain, but specifically in their legs? fluffy but like hurt/comfort, ya know? like he helps take care of them but the reader is terrified they’re being a burden or that they’re not good enough for him etc etc? i’ve just been struggling a lot with my chronic pain recently and spencer is a big comfort for me🥹if you’re not down for this request thi, don’t worry about it! thank you!!

hi love, I'm sorry this took forever to finish! as someone who also struggles with my legs, i feel you. it can be really awfull and frustrating and i hope you get better real soon, sending love🩷🩷

spencer reid x gn!reader

warning: chronic pain, medication mention/use, self-deprecating thoughts.

wc: ± 1180

a/n: none

It had been a long day, and the dull ache beginning to form in your legs was an obvious indicator of an even longer night. You quickly stripped as you made your way to your bathroom, running a bath and ordering something to eat; you didn't feel like having to stand by a stove tonight.

Spencer was working late again, something about having to finish paperwork. You contemplated calling him; he always assured you that you could call him whenever you needed anything (granted he was in the same state as you). You tried not to though, because you were already dependent on him as is.

It felt unfair to have him look after you the way he did, and the guilt consumed you. Spencer worked extremely hard, and when he wasn't working he was taking care of you. He always told you he didn't mind, that he did it because he loved you. You believed him, but you couldn't help but feel as though you were holding him back, taking away the only time he had to actually rest.

Spencer was still young, he didn't have to be held back by you.

Your prediction of a long night had been correct, and you found yourself squirming beneath the covers trying to distract yourself from the ache in your tired legs. The bunch of painkillers did little to quell the burning throb, and you found yourself on the verge of tears, untill you heard the familiar footsteps make their way to your shared room.

The door creaked open with a shrill, and you burried your face into the pillow, waiting for the inevitable shine of the ceiling light being switched on, but it never came. Instead you felt the bed dip right beside, you and a soft palm being placed between your shoulder blades, it's warmth seeping through the thin sleeping shirt you wore.

"Are you assleep?" he asked softly, and you shook your head, face still burried in your pillow. He only hummed, the hand on your back moving along your body till it found your leg beneath the covers.

"D'you want me to rub your legs for you?" he asked quietly, and God, how badly did you want that right now. Your head rose frome the pillow, looking over at the small alarm clock on your nightstand. It was just a little past midnight. "No," you said moving into a seated position, moving to your nightstand to turn on the lamp.

When the warm light filled the room, you found Spencer's eyes on you, giving you a concerned look. "It's alright Spencer, it's late and you're probably tired," you tried, but his expression only worsened. "I don't mind," he tried and you gave him the most convincing smile you could muster.

"I'm alright, please get some rest," you said, placing your hand on his, the other one still absent-mindedly rubbing your legs beneath the covers. "Are you sure?" he asked and you nodded. He gave you a reluctant look, before standing up to change from his work clothes.

You always felt so bad whenever Spencer had to help you. He always went out of his way, even if he's had a long day at work or just got home from whatever state they had been in.

You wanted to be more independent, wanted to help yourself more and allow Spencer some time for himself, which was why you started refusing his help, distancing yourself bit by bit.

In return, Spencer thought he had done something wrong. You didn't want him to touch you, or help you when he saw you were clearly in pain or discomfort. And he wanted to help you, because he didn't like seeing you hurt. He already saw so much pain and hurt in his job, he didn't want to come home to find you hurting too.

✧.˳⁺⁎˚

It was a particularly bad day, and you found yourself on your couch watching TV as you clutched the heating pad between your legs. You didn't even go to work today, the pain too much for you to even function properly. When you heard the click of the front door opening, you wanted to crawl in on yourself. Spencer saw the glow of the TV illuminating the living room, and made his way inside quietly, placing his things on the kitchen table and making his way to the couch.

He saw you laying there, and his face dropped at your pained expression. He crouched down so he could be at eye level with you. "How are you feeling?" he asked. For a moment you considered telling him the thrust, telling him how much it hurt and how much you wanted him to take the pain away the way only he could. But you bit your tongue, giving him a small smile instead.

"I'm okay, Spencer," you said softly. "How was work?" you asked, trying to change the subject. "It was alright, are you sure you're okay dear?" he asked again. You sighed tiredly. "Spence—"

"Why don't you want me to help you?" he interrupted. "Because it's not your responsibility Spencer, it's not your job to look after me," you snapped, sitting up in the couch. "Where is this coming from?" he asked taking a seat next to you. You took a deep breath before answering.

"I feel bad, Spencer," you started softly, refusing to meet his eyes. "You already have so much to worry about. You work so hard and then you come home to—"

You were interrupted by Spencer's hand gently grabbing onto yours, effectively stopping you from nervously picking at your nails.

"I don't want you to feel that way, ever," he said softly, squeezing at your hand reassuringly. He sighed when he noticed your gaze still stuck on your lap.

"Please look at me," he pleaded and you raised your head from where you had been staring a hole into the blanket draped over your lower body. He gave you a small smile when you looked up at him, giving your hand another squeeze for good measure.

"I love you," he started, "and I decided to be with you as you are, with the good and the bad, just like you took me with the good and the bad. I don't want you to ever feel like a burden, because you're not. I help you because I want to, and I'll always want to."

Damn you and your sensitive heart, beacuse you found yourself on the verge of tears. "I'm sorry," you started, but he quickly interjected. "Don't apologize, you did nothing wrong," he said, wiping away a stray tear. "I love you, all of you. You should never doubt that."

"I don't," you said giving him a small smile. "Then let me take care of you," he said. Your smile widened, wrapping your arms around him and pulling him into a crushing hug. And it felt so good after weeks of pushing him to the side and denying his affection. His warmth seeping into your body, an instant comfort to your tired body and crestfallen heart.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x gn!reader #spencer reid x gender neutral reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fic #criminal minds fic #likedovesinthewindd

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spencer-writes-stuff · 2 years

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Two Spencers

Summary: Spencer never knew his partner's real name until now. Or, Imagine Spencer finding out his partner's name is Spencer too Pairing: Spencer Reid x GN!Reader, Might mention reader is a guy one or twice Content Warning: Bad writing, english is my second language, im using an online editor though

In a way, it wasn't Spencer's fault he didn't know his partner's name. They've always gone by a nickname and requested everyone to refer to them by that nickname. The nickname wasn't inappropriate and was work appropriate so Hotch didn't have an issue with it.

Of course, Morgan tried to find out what their name was, but even he was unsuccessful. He tried every trick in the book with Garcia and was even close to getting an answer, but Rossi saved her.

"Leave the girl alone. Garcia is keeping her promise to (N/N). You wouldn't want to be the reason she breaks her promise to them, right?"

Rossi had managed to turn the situation on Morgan so he felt guilty and dropped the subject. Penelope walked away happy, Rossi walked away smug, and Morgan walked away confused. Only when he returned to the awaiting group, did it finally register that he was tricked.

Spencer had walked over just as they had all groaned in distress. He glanced at them, making eye contact with a grinning Morgan. Oh no.

"Hey, pretty boy," Morgan began, leaning back in his seat and propping his legs on his desk. Catching his plan, Emily smiled and leaned forward on her desk. Tilting her head at JJ while glancing at Spencer repeatedly.

"Oh," JJ gasped standing from her chair and walking over to lean on Spencer's desk just as he sat down. "Spence, what's (N/N)'s first name?"

Spencer paused, the pen in his hand dropping onto his desk and rolling away. He glanced between JJ's hopeful eyes and Morgan's failed attempt at acting like he wasn't listening. Emily stared back at him with her eyes narrowed before finally opening her mouth, "You don't know."

The genius looked down, busying himself with finishing setting his desk up. He heard Morgan tsk at him, "Come on, Pretty boy. You don't know your partner's name?"

"You don't know your best friend's name?"

No one said anything. The group was surprised by Reid's clap back and Reid from confusion. He was looking at a picture taped to his receiver. Spencer was laying between (N/N) legs, his face pressed into the side of their neck as they talked to Rossi. It was from one of Rossi's house gatherings, Penelope had taken the picture. He had gotten a little tipsy and (N/N) took care of him.

The elevator doors open and he hears the voice of his partner. They're talking to someone about a drink they want to try from a cafe. Their friend responds with, "You don't need any more caffeine, Spence."

And he looks up. His partner is now sitting at their desk and their friend is sitting next to them in a chair they pulled up. They're laughing at her, shaking their head in disagreement before huffing out, "I think I can handle a little more."

"Your name's Spence?"

The pair look to Morgan and (N/n) has the nerve to start laughing. His lady friend glances between (N/n) and Morgan, she can see the pure confusion on Morgan's face. So she glances around, looking at everyone's confused curious faces before her eyes lock on Spence.

His head is tilted and he's staring at (N/N) in awe and confusion, with a little guilt.

(N/N) finally looks down from where he threw his head back, leaning forward to place grab one of his pens. "My name is Spencer, Spence is a nickname."

"How did I not know that?" Spencer mumbled though it was loud enough for everyone to hear. (N/N) looks over him, their eyes bouncing around his face. Taking in his features, they see he's genuinely hurt.

"You never knew that?" (N/N) retaliates tilting their head at their boyfriend. Watching him shake his head while slowly slumping in his chair. "One of my nicknames is Big S and Rossi calls you Little S."

"I thought he was referencing our relationship and the height difference," Spence whispers, his face flushing slightly as he looks down at his fiddling fingers.

"We have a- What's going on?" Hotchner steps out of his office, Rossi already halfway down the stairs. Making their way over to the couple, Spence looks embarrassed, and (N/N) looks confused with a hint of amusement.

"Spence didn't know that my name is Spencer," (N/N) says as he looks over to Rossi with a grin. The older pair share a look of amusement just as Garcia jogs over to them. "My blooming flower, I have that new drink you were talking about. We're going to-"

She pauses as she stops in front of their desk, tilting her head at their laughter. "Why are you laughing?"

"Babygirl, did you know (N/N)'s real name was Spencer?"

She freezes, glancing at Morgan, and quickly looks back to (N/N) as if asking for reassurance. They nod, shrugging their shoulders as they wave a hand dismissively. "They all know."

"YesIKnewAndIwantedToTellYouButIPromisedIWouldn'tBecause(N/N)IMeanSpencerDidn'tWantMeTo.AndIhaveToRespectAPromiseToMyBest-"

"Love."

She flinches at the hand on her shoulder, looking up at (N/N) with wide eyes. They tilt their head, looking down at her with concern, "You alright, love?"

She nods, and they both turn to look at Spencer, who looks up at them. He glanced between the two before looking back down at his fingers. "Spencer."

He looks up, his eyes were wide and unblinking.

"You look like a gecko," He flinches, repeatedly blinking before rubbing his eyes and looking back at a panicking (N/N). Before they can apologize, Spencer speaks up, "How come they knew before me?"

"Hotch read my file, you know with him being the boss, and my name was there," They point at Hotchner who was leaning on their desk with his head tilted down to hide his smile.

They shift to point at Rossi, who crosses his arm with amusement. "Rossi asked me what my name was, so I told him."

Then he points at a slightly panicked Garcia, "She asked me when she tried looking me up and only saw S. (M/N) (L/N) on everything. I should've known Morgan would try to corner her."

He glared at Morgan who grinned back at him. He looked over at Spencer who stared back at him with a twinkle in his eyes.

"Enough of that, we've got a case."

And there goes the moment.

#spencer-writes-stuff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x fem!readr #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x male reader #spencer reid x gn!reader #spencer reid x gender neutral reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff

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jkoningen · 1 year

Text

Reid and (Y/N) get into a quarrel about (Y/N) and their PDA affection. Meanwhile, Prentiss and Morgan are outside the door listening, until things go quiet.

Prentiss: They’ve been quiet for quite a while.

Morgan: Maybe (Y/N) killed him.

// I should be posting more blurbs and prompts soon; got into a writing block 😅 - jk

#short story #spencer reid #criminal minds #reader insert #romance #spencer reid x reader #fanfiction #blurb #spencer reid x female reader #spencer reid x gender neutral reader #Emily prentiss #Derek Morgan #criminal minds chats #jksquad #friends tv show quotes

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ssa-atlas-alvez · 1 year

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ok so I got a cliché trope, but like, it always brings pain. Reader (any gender) is in a relationship with either luke or reid and are getting married, the other person is their best friend (ex. if reader dates reid, luke is the best friend) who's always been in love with them. He has to watch the love of his life marry someone else. Drunkenly he tells someone else and there's this exchange.

"Why didn't you ever move on?" the person asked. "I tried. God, did I try. Nothing worked. And when I knew they were getting married, that they would vow their lives together, I just knew it would happen. I will love them as long as they are his."

Luke has many regrets in life, probably too many to count. But none of them had bitten him in the ass as much as this one: you. You were his best friend and he wholeheartedly supported every decision you had ever made (and was there to comfort you when you fucked up). But he didn't ever tell you how he felt, he just acted like a good friend. He didn't want to cross a line. And then you started dating Spencer and Luke wasn't going to be That Guy, so he didn't say anything. Then you got engaged, he followed his new life motto 'grin and bare it'. And now he's at the wedding with a new motto: get drunk and forget about it.

Which led him to where he was now. God knows how many drinks in and confiding in Matt. "I just love them so much, man," He mumbles, signalling for another drink. "And Reid's a good guy, I know he's a good guy. But it hurts they aren't with me."

"Why didn't you ever move on?" Matt asked.

"I tried. God, did I try. Nothing worked." Luke snorted, "I did everything short of leaving the team."

Matt stared at Luke and Luke threw back another shot. "Too late now," Luke muttered, "Too little too late,"

"Hey guys, enjoying the celebration?" You ask, walking up to the pair.

Luke straightened up, doing his best to act sober, "Of course!" He grinned, "Congratulatuons again,"

"Thank you for standing up there with me," You give him a small smile. In the moment, Luke felt like the rest of the world disappeared, melting away into the background. "Oh, one second, the husband's calling!" You laugh, emphasising the husband.

When you left, Luke turned back to the bar, downing another shot. "Luke, this isn't healthy," Matt said. "Look, why don't you come home tonight with me and Kristy? We can watch some TV, drink some water, and you can sleep in the guest room, how about that?"

"Even with your ten kids, you still have a guest room? How big is your house?"

"Hey, five kids." Matt argued, "Come on, Kristy looks pooped, we'll probably be leaving shortly, if you want to take me up on the offer?"

Luke turned his head slightly, you and Spencer coming into view, a sour, bitter feeling settled in his chest and he nodded. "Yeah, thanks."

"No worries, man. We're brothers."

#criminal minds fanficiton #criminal minds #spencer reid #gender neutral reader #gn reader #luke alvez #matt simmons #x reader #x gender neutral reader #x gn reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x gender neutral reader #spencer reid x gn!reader

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rupsmorge · 2 years

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masterlist

✿Spencer Reid✿

Hold Me, Please? -> fluff/comfort

Mr. Floof -> fluff

Curls Upon Curls -> fluff

The Technophobe's Phone -> fluff

Sunny Mornings -> Comfort

Panic Attacks and Polar Bear Facts -> Comfort

Face of Constellations -> Fluff

✿Eddie Munson✿

The Munson Boys (coming soon...)

#spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x gender neutral reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds

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samuel-de-champagne-problems · 2 years

Text

Forever The Name On My Lips

Summary: Reflecting through their once in a lifetime love, Reader finds themselves seeing that old familiar face they never thought they'd see again.

CW: Hopeful ending, sexual innuendo, mentions of prison, guns, spencer getting shot/fear of him dying

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Gender Neutral Reader

Word Count: 5.1K

Author's Note: happy last kiss day friends! it’s a little late but I hope you all like this! please let me know what you think! your comments, reblogs and even "asks" mean everything to me TAGLIST SIGN UP

Forever The Name On My Lips

The sun dripped into the living room like golden honey. I loved to read beside the big picture window. It was far above the bustling life of the street below and provided fantastic lighting for lazy afternoons spent reading all the books we promised ourselves we would read.

Spencer flipped through the pages of his third, maybe fourth book, as I squandered through the first 100 pages of my first book. Admittedly, he was quite distracting. The sun dashed across his handsome face casting shadows across his nose and lips. His tongue would slip past his lips as he concentrated on the words on the page. Spencer was incredibly distracting and kept me from making headway on my novel.

I rested the book in my lap, reaching to pet Clemmie. She stretched her little body, mostly orange with patches of creamy white, toward my welcoming hand. Scratching under her chin, I smiled to myself, enjoying the absolute tranquility of the afternoon.

“I wish everyday was like this,” I whispered, more to myself than to Spencer, who sat perched in the same position for the last hour. “Just us, Clemmie. Books. Enough iced coffee to sustain an entire small nation,”

Spencer looked up from his book for the first time. He smiled, nodding his head in agreement. I stretched my legs towards him. He massaged my legs, working diligently to get the various knots out. I winced at the satisfying feeling.

“Me too,” Spencer said. He attempted to place his book in his lap to continue reading, but the well-worn paperback kept falling, unable to be propped without hands to support it. “My favorite days are days like today.”

“There’s a new book I want to pick up at Brown’s. It’s an anthology of different authors. It seems interesting. I think you’d like it. It’s a collection of short stories centered around—”

He kissed me, effectively shutting down whatever I was going to tell him about. I loved the way his lips felt against mine. He was so soft. His cardigan was wrapped around my shoulders, something that I would always steal from him. He left here so often I was pretty sure he did it on purpose. I smelt the spicy, warm scent of this body wash that he started to leave in my bathroom. I liked that he left his things, like a cardigan, favorite books and socks, and now body wash. I let the kiss control me as I thought of how this place, my place, was starting to become Spencer’s place too. I think, as Spencer’s lips trailed down my jawline, that I really liked that.

I smiled, covered Spencer’s hand with my own. He continued to rub the kinks from my leg and moved down to my feet.

“Here,” I said, grabbing Spencer’s book. My eyes scanned over the page, double checking that this particular novel wasn’t some Latin tome or near ancient Russian novel, “Romance, eh?” I teased, winking at him, “What are you trying to look for tips, or something?”

Spencer blushed and swatted for the book that I gripped firmly in my hands. I wasn’t going to let him get away with this one, especially when he looked as cute as he did with his cheeks turning red.

“You like them. So I thought I’d try. It’s pretty good so far. But I think I prefer the real thing, if I’m being honest,” he professed, cheeks still a delightful shade of pink.

Smirking, I decided to relent. “You know, I wouldn’t mind checking that real thing you’re talking about,” I offered, hoping that Spencer would get the insinuation. “Because our thing is certainly better than whatever is in this book,”

“Bedroom?”

“Bedroom.” ****

“Tell me what happened,”

It wasn’t a question. Nor was it a statement or a demand. It was something that dwells in between those two things. Spencer laid his head on the cool, freshly washed pillowcase. In the moonlight, I could see the dark purple bags under his eyes. A small bandage was taped above his eyebrow. I didn’t ask about that, but I noticed it. Some things could wait till tomorrow. Other things, like the things that I know will haunt his dreams, those must be dealt with tonight.

“I can’t.” Spencer said. He sounded broken. His voice was caught in his throat so only a scratchy, sad sort of sound slipped out. I hated to see him like this. So distraught, so rundown.

Pulling him close, I tugged the back of his head. I ran my fingers through his hair, feeling the way his soft curls felt against my skin. “Yes. Spencer, you can tell me. You’re not going to scare me away, you know that, right?”

Spencer hummed, a nonchalant response that told me more than words ever could. His head was buried in my chest so his voice sounded a million miles away, sort of like his mind must have felt. I scratched his back, running my fingers up and down his cardigan covered torso.

“You’re too good,” Spencer whispered. “I can't hurt you with my job. I can’t. I won’t, Y/N,” Spencer pleaded. He sounded desperate, like the words he uttered wounded him. I wanted to reach out and wrap my arms around him. I did. But he still felt so far away, even with our heartbeats thumping in sync.

We’re both quiet for a moment. I supposed that even us, two people who never have enough to talk about, can find themselves in a conversation where everything leads to a dead end. I liked to think I understood Spencer well, if I’m being honest I still like to think I do. But there are some things about him, about his job, which is a big piece of him, that I’ll never understand.

“Okay,” I whispered, kissing his shoulder, “You don’t have to tell me what you saw or whatever, but you do have to do something for me. You gotta write it down. Everything you’re thinking. The ugliest, most awful things that I know you’re seeing. Write it down, lock it away with your gun in the safe, burn it for all I care. Let yourself tuck it away. For me. For you. For us, sweetheart,”

Again, he was at a loss for words. Spencer’s eyelashes tickled my cheek, eliciting an ill timed laughter.

“For you,” Spencer muttered. His breath was hot and wet against my skin. His promises echoed around the room. It hung in the air like just waiting to be turned about, examined when we clung together in a sleepless choreography of restless limbs and silent symphony of ranging minds.

“For us,” I corrected, firm in my answer.

It was about us. It had to be, for there to be an us to care about in the first place. ****

It was 1:58 when I got the call.

Looking back, it was naive of me to truly think that this day wouldn’t ever come. I selected a special ringtone for Spencer, this way I’d always know it was him texting or calling if my phone wasn’t in my pocket at the moment. Call it intuition or ESP or whatever, but I remember waking up, startled and terrified, knowing that something was wrong.

I had never heard SSA Hotchner’s voice before. He never liked going out with the team for drinks, but somehow I knew it was him talking to me through Spencer’s cell phone.

“Y/N,” Agent Hotcher’s voice was clipped and business-like, but somewhere I sensed a slight waver.

“Yes? Oh my god, please tell me he’s okay,”

“I can’t make any promises,” he said. His voice was grim. I thought that one day maybe I’ll appreciate the honesty. “Reid has been shot in the neck. He enroute to Walter Reed. You’re his emergency contact,” he explained.

“Yes, yes,” I said. I remember looking for my glasses, but I don’t remember finding them. Agent Hotchner, or Hotch as Spencer affectionately called him, continued to talk to me. Maybe he was telling me that Spencer was going to be fine. Or that Spencer wanted me to know that he loved me. But none of that seemed like the Aaron Hotchner from the stories Spencer told. Yet, I let myself pretend that’s what he was asking.

“I’m on my way. I-I, I can’t lose him. He’s everything to me. I can’t-”

“I’ll send Derek Morgan to get you. You’re in the no shape to drive this late,”

I don’t remember agreeing to Derek coming to pick me up, nor do I remember refusing.

I do remember sitting beside Spencer’s bed. His face looked so pale and clammy in the artificial light. Underneath his nose was an oxygen tube. Blood speckled his cheek. I remember being annoyed that know one cleaned it up for him. But then I remembered that his doctors and nurses had other things, like keeping him alive, to worry about.

I grabbed Spencer’s hand. It was sweaty from the adrenaline that coursed through his body. His hands were so soft, unlike the callouses that collected on my fingertips and palms. Our fingers slotted together perfectly, as if we were made to match.

Sitting there, all I could think about was how lucky I was. Spencer was. We were. And then another thought creeped into my mind just as Spencer finally fell asleep. Suddenly, I saw it all so clearly. A night, not unlike this one, when I’m awoken to the sound of Spencer’s ringtone, but not his sleep-ridden voice at the end. Maybe it’s Agent Hotchner’s or Derek’s or Penelope’s. Maybe it’s the hospital because the entire team is too beside themselves to even call me. I wouldn’t hear anything they said, maybe just bits and pieces. Yet, sitting there staring at the machines he’s hooked up too, I can see it vividly. I can feel the worry drip from my fingertips that tether themselves to Spencer’s hands, I can see the red and white stripes of the flag they’d hand me as they bury the one man I ever thought I could love. I can see so clearly and I know, as I listen to the machines beep, that one day it would end so tragically.

**** It was a selfish choice to make, leaving a man who did nothing but love and honor and cherish me.

I take the bus now. The train reminds me too much of the love that I lost. It’s a little strange, when I think about it. That I left a man that I loved because I was so scared to live in a wolf without, yet here I was. I still loved him, and I suspect I always will. I knew he’d linger like a tattoo kiss and haunt all my what ifs.

The bus is bumpy and filled with agitated passengers eager to get home on a dreary Friday night. The rain poured down and down on the clear windows of the bus. The raindrops fell in bullets, distorting my view of the street. I passed bookstores that Spencer and I frequented, small convenience stores where we’d stop for late night ice cream runs, the empty parking lot where we kissed for the first time in the middle of the weekly farmer’s market.

I can still smell the rain on the pavement. We held our canvas bags of fresh fruits and vegetables as it rained down on us. Spencer even bought a strawberry tart and homemade ice cream from a stand for our dessert. Maybe it was the intimacy of it all, being there with him picking out fruits and vegetables and sampling homemade ice cream. Maybe it just felt right, like it often did with him. Or maybe it was true love. It would have to be true love if I was still thinking about one kiss all those years ago.

I remember tasting the sweetness of the strawberry ice cream he sampled. It was sweet and tart on his lips. And then I remember wanting to taste more. It was like he was so taken by the gesture that he froze. I smiled into the kiss while he melted into it. He dropped the bags of fruits and vegetables to the ground by our feet. I twisted my hands in his hair, uncaring of the passerby that must be annoyed at the public display of affection. His mouth was warm and welcoming as were his hands that roamed the expanse of my back. His lips slotted against mine in a dance too romantic for an overly priced farmer’s market.

I think it was Spencer that parted. Or maybe it was me, I’m not sure. If it was it would make sense, considering how this ended all those years ago. His fingertips dragged my chin up toward the looming, gray sky that was filled with nothing but rainbows and glittering stars in my mind. Spencer kissed me quickly, a sort of bashfulness washing over his face.

“That was…nice,” Spencer surmised. He picked up the forgotten groceries, holding them in one hand now so, I assumed, he could hold mine in the other.

“I think I deserve something a little more generous than just nice, Spencer. You did just feel me up in the middle of a parking lot,”

“I did not feel you up,” Spencer retorted, blushing crimson at my crudeness. He was too cute to not tease. “You kissed me. And then I kissed you. Quite romantically at that. I didn’t feel you up, yet that is,”

I remember stopping, delighted at Spencer’s playful teasing. He smiled at me and I remembered wondering if he saw the cloudy skies and pouring rain as beautiful rainbows and glittery stars too.

“So what you’re saying is if we get this ice cream in the freezer, you’ll feel me up?” ****

I’m not sure if it’s physics or whatever, but if there’s a first kiss then, I suppose, there’s bound to be a last kiss. If the first one was magical and full of rainbows and glittery stars then the last one wasn’t anything like that.

Truth be told, out of the hundreds of kisses shared between us most of them weren’t magical and earth shattering. It’s not to say that they weren’t special, they were. It’s just when I’ve kissed him as much as I did, it becomes second nature. He became part of me, and I part of him.

Maybe that’s why the love affair maimed me so hard and has left me wondering years and years later if it maimed him too.

It was nothing special, our last kiss. It happened so quickly too. Spencer had spent the night, like he did most nights at that point. He was buttering a bagel for me and I snuck up behind him. I remember I wrapped my arms around his torso and breathed him in. He smelt like fresh coffee and sweet pastries. I planted three kisses on his shoulder blades as a thank you for the bagel. And then he kissed me, quickly, chastely. It was the kind of kiss that I liked so much. It was something small because we both knew there would be time later for something a little more special.

I still remember the look on his face on that July ninth. We fought that night again about his job. He went into a hostage situation without a vest on, breaking protocol. I didn't want to lose him, I didn't want this to end. I would never want to live in a Spencer Reid-less world.

I remember I argued with him, we both slung venom laced insults and regrettable snide comments, that we were too ashamed to discuss that morning. I left, deciding to spend the night on Penelope's couch. I learned, painstakingly, that some good things have an expiry date far too soon than you'd want. It turned out, Spencer and mine was too soon than either of us would have truly liked.

Now I sit in that same kitchen, wearing the brown cardigan he always wore to bed. I know a lot of things about myself. I know how I like my coffee, how I like my eggs cooked, and the thread count of my favorite sheets.

But what I don’t know, is how to be something he missed.

His cardigan smelled like his cologne I bought him on a whim. It was spicy and warm, like bergamot and lime. It tickled my nose, making my eyes sting with the tears of nostalgia. I thought about washing it, clearing away the scent of him from haunting my days. But I couldn’t bring myself to do that. Washing away the smell of Spencer, the last thing I have of his, would be an act of finality. And despite my choices recently, I didn’t think that I could ever do that.

I never thought we’d have a last kiss. I never thought that we’d end like this. It turned out that freedom is nothing but missing Spencer.

If only I had known when he kissed me that morning that it would be the last time. I would have kissed him like I knew it was the last time. I would have pulled him, tugging at the curls at the bottom of his neck, so we were flush against each other in the throws of passion. It would have been, somehow, sweet and sexy, timid and bold, quick and slow. Yet, I’ve made peace with our last kiss being less special.

Because, goddamn it, at least I kissed him.

I sat on the floor with my back pressed up against the refrigerator. Clemmie popped out of the shadows from her hiding spot in the living room. I held my hand out, letting her rub her face against my palm. Her little wet nose felt slimy against my skin, but I liked it. These days, I need a reminder that I can still feel things beside numbness, pain, and heartache. She sniffed the cardigan that I had wrapped around my torso, probably trying to get as much as Spencer’s scent from it as she could.

“I miss him too,” I told her, bringing her to my chest and kissing her head. She meowed, eager to escape my grasp. “Fine. I’ll let you leave me, too,” I said, the bitter resentment palatable in my tone.

Clemmie, now free from my needy arms, played with something under the refrigerator. She hit it with her paws, trying to get it free. I relented, curious to see what she had.

“Oh,” I said, as I turned the picture magnet in my hand. It was Spencer and me. He had his arms wrapped around me tightly. He did it so often, it’s like I can still feel it even now. I was kissing his cheek, the same cheeks that blushed furiously at compliments and kisses.

“I forgot about this,” I said to no one in particular. “We were cute, weren't we. I really thought we were gonna be something. It would have been fun, if he was the one,”

I used to have nightmares of Spencer dying in all these horrible ways. I dreamt about him coming home to me, nothing but an empty shell of the vibrant man I adored. It haunted me, the thought of not hearing his voice, not feeling his body against mine, not smelling his shampoo.

But now, it’s changed. Now I dreamt of Spencer alive and well and whole. I dreamt of those Sundays that felt so real in my dreams because, at one point, they were. In my sleep, I dreamed that he held me close and kissed my face.

Somehow that was worse than him dying. Maybe. I'm not sure. I'm not sure about most things these days. ****

The bus stop was three blocks from my apartment. The walk was short enough to not be annoying, but long enough to be contemplative. But that day I wasn’t looking for contemplatives. All I thought about was how annoyed at myself I was for not bringing an umbrella. The rain fell in heavy, fat droplets that soaked my shirt and pants through. I dashed through the sidewalks, brushing my fellow city dwellers.

“Shit,” I cursed. I stepped in a puddle that was deeper than it looked. My brown loafers and socks were soaked and I felt the unnervingly warm rainwater coat my skin. I hated the feeling of wet clothes sticking to my skin.

I attempted to walk more briskly, avoiding the biggest puddles and making do with the smaller ones. I used to love the rain and the smell of the pavement. But it’s nothing but memories that linger like bad perfume only reserved for someone special.

Pushing the thoughts from my mind, I forced myself to think about tossing a raincoat or a small umbrella in my travel tote.

The rain, despite its former romantic qualities, is something of an annoyance when you’re not getting kissed and swept off your feet. ****

After I found new, dry socks I decided to change up my week a bit. Usually, Wednesdays were leftover days. That meant my dinner would consist of meals left over in the refrigerator from Monday and Tuesday. Something told me that I was craving Tandoori Chicken from the small place around the corner.

I called the order in, getting enough for lunch the next day, and decided to leave a little early to go to the coffee shop next door. I must have thought if I was already treating myself, I might as well splurge for an iced vanilla latte while I waited.

Sitting there, towards the back of the shop, was someone I never thought I’d see again. Which was probably a little naive of me, considering he lived within walking distance as well. In fact, this was our favorite coffee place back when it was a bookstore as well.

I didn’t have enough time to duck out without my coffee before Spencer saw me. And to say saw me would be putting it lightly. I’ve been looked at before, maybe even leered at. But nothing will ever top the way that that man looks at me. There was a certain hunger in his eyes that morphed into a wistful sadness that made me yearn for the old days.

“It’s you,” Spencer’s voice was hollow in the otherwise busy store. Knowing he’ll always get the best of me, I walked toward him without a second thought.

“So how have you been?” I asked, wondering if sitting here with Spencer was a mistake. He seemed hesitant to answer the question and immediately I regretted the question. “You don’t have to answer that. It was stupid of me to ask. Penny told me what happened,”

“I–I’m better,” Spencer said with a smile that looked forced. His hair was longer than I've ever seen before and he wore a suit. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him wear a suit, safe for maybe the time we went to his work’s annual New Year’s Party, but I’m pretty sure that was a tux. Whatever it was, he certainly looked dashing in it. Like he did now. “I’m healing. My therapist says I’m on what she calls a road to recovery. It takes time,”

“That’s good, Spencer. That’s really good,”

“Yeah,” he mumbled. “So how about you? Is Clemmie still stealing the sunlight?”

I laughed. The light sound the first noise of pure joy I released in a while. Of course he asked about my cat. My cat who adored him. I’m pretty sure that when we broke up, Clementine was slightly more heartbroken than myself.

I grabbed the chair facing Spencer, wondering if he’ll give me a cue that it’s okay to chat. I wasn’t sure where it would lead, or if I wanted it to lead anywhere. But part of me wanted to see if it would.

“Clemmie is good. She misses you of course…We both do,” I said, deciding that that was an okay thing to admit to Spencer. It was true, I still missed him. But it was a half truth. I missed him and loved him. Still.

Silence fell between us, like it used to. But back then it was filled with sweet kisses and soft touches and long stares. Now it’s stuffed to the brim with awkward glances and unsaid words and silent looks.

“Do you remember that night when I came home all…hurt? It was the time when you told me to write it all down. Because my heart was too good to bear it all, all the time. I still do that, you know?”

To say I was touched would be putting it lightly. Spencer’s eyes shifted from my face to my hands. I allowed my mind to venture about what he could be thinking about. His smile confirmed my suspicions and allowed my dreams to take flight.

“Somewhere along the line, it turned into letters. Most are addressed to you,” Spencer admitted. “I carry them with me. As reminders.”

I nodded. Words never seemed to do Spencer justice. Words could never quite capture exactly how he made me feel, how stunningly handsome and beautiful he was. And it was a sin to try. It must be sacrilegious or something. I guess, looking at Spencer even now, I understood how love could make people crazy.

“I’m glad it helped,” I said, finally deciding to bite the metaphorical bullet and sit with Spencer.

“I really loved you,” Spencer said, addressing the elephant in the room.

“I know–”

“You told me you loved me–”

“I know–”

“Why did you go away? I mean, I know why. God, do I know why, now? I mean…You were it for me. You still are, I’m afraid to admit. We could have worked it out. We could have–” He said. He sounded so unsure.

“It’s okay, Spencer. I don’t regret it. Actually, maybe I do. I’m not. Maybe I regret ending it the way I did. Hurting you. Hurting me. I was just scared. Terrified. Of you leaving me,”

“So you left me. And let me watch your life in pictures,” Spencer said, curt with tension. “You know, I used to watch you sleep. You were always so stunning when you slept,”

“Spence,” I was crying by then. It was his name, the name forever on my lips, that did me in. “I planned on marrying you. I planned on having a cute house filled with books and cats and farmer’s market vegetables and fruits and overpriced homemade ice cream. But what I didn’t plan on was burying you before we got that. I didn’t want to be cheated out on life by you dying on me in some undoubtedly heroic way. It may have been the wrong choice. The selfish choice. But I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t send you away all the time wondering if you’d live or die,”

The air between us smelt like brown sugar and coffee. The machines hummed in the background and customers clamored away on their laptops, uncaring about our conversation. I stared at my neglected coffee and uneaten pastry. It was a strawberry scone, a liking picked up when Spencer and I were together. There’s so much of me, and of him, that’s indescribable. We’re like a patchwork quilt of two lives. You can see the parts that are clearly me and the parts that are clearly him, but there’s places where it’s impossible to tell. It’s strawberry scones for me and hazelnut coffee for Spencer.

“I would have left for you,” Spencer said. I wondered if he was saying it more to himself or to me. “I would have done anything for you. Anything to be with you, Y/N,”

I hadn’t heard my name from him in years. I sounded raspier, heartier than it ever did. I didn’t want to think about the things that happened to him that caused that sweetness in his voice to dry up.

“I couldn’t be the reason you left the thing that you loved, Spencer. God, you’re brilliant. You’re probably the smartest person alive. Don’t give me that look. I can still compliment you. You could do anything. But you chose to do that? God, I would have been so selfish to try to peel you away from that,”

“You were the thing I loved,” Spencer countered. His hands formed fists that hovered above the small table we shared. His hazelnut coffee wafted in the air. He looked across the room and gulped, “You’re the one I’ve always loved, Y/N,”

My tears were salty and stung. I tried to wipe them away with the napkins that the coffee shop had. But they were already covered in condensation from my vanilla latte, so they practically disintegrated in my hands.

“Here,” Spencer said, handing me his dry napkin. I mumbled a thanks and mopped up my face. “Somehow you’re still the most gorgeous person, even when you’re crying. I don’t know if it’s inappropriate for me to say things like that. But frankly, I don’t give a damn,”

Spencer’s newfound boldness earned a chuckle. He smiled, perhaps appreciating the friendlier response.

“Do you ever think about how different it could have been? You know if you worked in a lab or something curing–”

“Schizophrenia. Or at least treating it. Or maybe cancer if I got bored of that,” Spencer interrupted.

“So you’ve thought about it? You would have been so cute in those goggles.” I offered. I sat back, leaning against the uncomfortable metal chair. Spencer straightened up his seat. “What else did you imagine?”

“A nice house like you pictured. With lots of sunlight for the cats and for us to read on Sundays. Near a farmer’s market. Near JJ and Will.

“–And an extra bedroom for Penelope,”

“If that’s what you want, I’ll do it for you,” Spencer said. I was sure he was teasing, yet my heart jumped out of my chest into what I wished was his waiting arms.

“What if it is what I want?” I asked, knowing I was putting myself out there only to get stuck in the crossfire.

“Like I said, Y/N. I’d do just about anything for you. With you. In a fucking heartbeat,”

“I never stopped loving you, Spencer,” I said, finally reaching across the table and holding his hand. He squeezed it tight and held it firmly.

Fighting, with true love, is a lot like boxing without gloves. I’d be the first to admit that I don’t know much about sports. And Spencer probably knows less. But what I do know is that it would hurt. I could look back at us, at the way we came together, at the way we feel about and ruminate on all my missteps and mistakes.

Or, I could let it all go. I could let the water that drenched my socks and sweater finally wash away the things I regret, leaving only the little flicker of hope that remains. I can step into the daylight and let it all go. Or at least try.

And it might all be before it in the end.

**** @reidslovely @reidsbookclub @spencerreidat3am @fightingdragonswithreid @hotchandspencearedilfs @sadgirlml @goldentournesol @spencerslibrary @foxy-eva @reidselle @paperbackprettyboy @sleepyspencer @justlivinginadaydream @tragiclilb @reidsmilf @mrs-dr-reid @reidslibrarybook

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid x gender neutral reader

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scuttling · 2 years

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Chicken Soup for the Soul - Ch 1

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Spencer Reid/Gender Neutral Reader Word Count: 1206 Tags: SFW, A lot of food talk, TW grief, TW depression, TW medication talk, Episode related: 8x13 Magnum Opus (and therefore the aftermath of Maeve) Summary: My dark days made me strong. Or maybe I already was strong, and they made me prove it. — Emery Lord A/N: For @lcvingprentjss's challenge - the end of cj’s chapter 🤍

Spencer isn’t sure of the day. He’s not sure of the hour; it’s morning, clearly, as the sun streams in through the gap in the curtains he’s done his best to close, but aside from that he’s got nothing.

His back is against the door again. He hears the click of a set of heels that’s become very familiar over the last few days—JJ—and then another set that come to a stop, followed by the soft placement of what he assumes is another of Garcia’s gift baskets.

(He opened his door once, yesterday, just to look at them. Just to feel a little worse than he already does. They care so much, love him so much, and he can’t even muster up more than a knock on the door in response to their kindness. Just another way in which he feels completely helpless.)

For as physically still and silent as he’s been since he got home, he feels absolutely out of control; he thinks of reaching out to grab books, to pick up a takeout menu, to text Garcia and thank her for the baskets, for the nuts and seeds, the loose leaf tea, the popcorn and olives and shortbread cookies and gourmet cheese, but he just can’t. His arms and legs won’t move. His heart’s not in it, barely thumping away in his chest as his mind whirs to all but a complete stop for hours, days on end.

It gets dark, and then light again, a few times, before the doorbell rings.

“Spencer Reid?” an unfamiliar voice calls softly. Then his visitor raps on the door with their knuckles. “Spencer Reid? I’ve been told that you’re home but you won’t answer the door; I’ve also been told that under no circumstances should I leave until you’ve opened the door. You wouldn’t make me stand out here all day, would you?”

Spencer sighs and lets his head fall back against the wooden door with a thunk. His hair feels greasy where it hangs around his face, his muscles stiff and uncomfortable from sitting there for so long without moving.

“Did Garcia put you up to this?” he rasps, voice rough from disuse. He’s been alone with his thoughts for so long–-too long–-that the sound of it feels foreign to his ears. “I’ll just bring in one of the baskets she already left. You can go.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know any Garcia; the delivery is from a… Dr. Alex Blake.”

Spencer opens his eyes, and it seems that his other senses come back online as well: he can hear the tick of a clock, the drip of the faucet, and he can smell something incredible on the other side of the door–-there’s an aromatic sauce, fresh herbs, breadcrumbs, maybe? His stomach growls involuntarily, empty and aching, now that he’s paying attention to it.

“It’s lasagna,” his guest says as if they could hear the rumble. “Roasted broccoli. Mixed green salad. She said you were probably starving.” There is a shuffle of feet on the other side of the door, and Spencer can tell that the person with the delivery has slid down to a seat not unlike his own. Even though he doesn’t know them, he feels a kind of kinship as they sit back to back… and the food smells even better now, as the scent of it wafts through the crack at the bottom of the door. “I made chocolate chip muffins, too. She said you have a sweet tooth.”

“You can leave it,” he croaks, and then clears his throat. “I’ll eat it, I promise.”

“Sorry, Spencer. I promised Dr. Blake I’d only hand it directly to you, and she’s tougher than she looks.”

A laugh bubbles up in Spencer’s throat, and he’s so surprised by it that it comes out a half cough, half bark. He folds his hands and drops them into his lap.

“That she is. I don’t blame you for not disobeying her.”

“Oh, perfect, then you’ll open the door?” they ask, but he says nothing in response. “Look, I don’t know much about you besides your name and address, and I can tell you’re not in a talking mood, so I’m just going to talk about me, okay?” When they’re met with silence, they continue. “So… I’m a chef. I own my own business, this business, making meals for people. Sometimes it’s people who are disabled or who’ve been injured and can’t cook. Sometimes it’s elderly people who live alone; sometimes it’s people struggling with their mental health. I’ve always been looking for a way to combine my passion for food with philanthropy.”

“That’s noble of you.”

“Not really. It just feels like the right thing to do. Food can be so personal and uplifting, and I don’t think they should miss out on all the joy food can bring just because they’re unable to cook–-or in some cases, leave home at all.”

Spencer picks at a loose thread at his wrist, focuses on it when he tells the lie.

“I could leave if I wanted to.”

“Maybe. I think if you could have, you would have, though.”

He supposes they’ve got him there.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of, or embarrassed about. We all struggle at different times of our lives.” They sigh, shift in their seat. “A few years ago, I was so depressed it became hard for me to bathe. I would just stand there and look at the empty shower, the empty tub, all of the bottles lined up on the edge of it, and just… stare. But I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Just removing my clothes felt like it took hours.”

Spencer surreptitiously—he doesn’t know why, he is physically alone, after all—lifts his robe to his nose, and recoils at the reminder that showering hasn’t been something he’s been able to conquer just yet either.

“How did you overcome it?” he murmurs, and he’s not even sure they’ve heard him for a moment, until they hum thoughtfully.

“Time. Therapy. Friends. Food.” There’s a soft thump as they set something down on the floor beside them—a paper bag, maybe. “Also Prozac. In fact, it was probably mostly the Prozac.” Spencer huffs a laugh despite himself, one his visitor heartily returns. “If you can just open the door, Spencer, I’ll slide the bag to you; technically that’s all Dr. Blake asked for. It’s a baby step, but I find that baby steps can be really helpful during times like these.”

Baby steps, he thinks. He inhales deeply, exhales deeply. He can do this. Can will his hand to cover the knob, to turn it. Can open the door just enough to receive the package—the steamy, fragrant, mouthwatering package—and then eat for the first time in what feels like an eternity.

It’s hard. Almost impossible. But he turns the knob.

They push the bag through the small gap he provides, then close the door again. He exhales, glad they stood up to their end of the bargain, didn’t want to come in or see him face to face. They leave with a soft, "I'll see you tomorrow, Spencer," and he opens the bag. He doesn't smile, but it's a near thing.

Baby steps.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #the end of cj's chapter #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x gender neutral reader

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spencersties · 1 year

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GIF is by @nerys2

Falling Petals - S. R.

A/N: a little mini blurb/drabble about taking a mid spring stroll through a park with spencer

Content/Warnings: pure fluff, spencer reid x gen!neutral reader, pre established relationship

Word Count: 220

Masterlist | Navigation

the situation seemed almost magical. spencer and you were surrounded by nothing but green and pink and white. there were trees in bloom wherever you looked, and rays of sunlight were shining faintly through their beautifully shaped branches.

and yet the most beautiful view of all was the man standing next to you, rambling on about the peak days of floresence in spring.

after a little while, he finished talking and turned to beam at you. his smile, paired with his pushed back, beautiful hair, and his favourite purple scarf, made your heart beat a little faster than usual.

that, paired with the small bits of sun getting through to the two of you, made him almost look as though he was glowing.

just then, a gust of wind blew past the two of you, making the petals on the trees flow around you and causing spencer's hair to become a bit ruffled.

you couldn't help yourself. you pushed his hair back behind his ears with both of your hands, stroking the sides of his head with your thumbs as you did so.

he leaned into your touch, and in that moment, surrounded by falling petals and a warm spring breeze, it felt like you and spencer were the only two people in the world. it felt like you had never been that happy in your life before. it felt like you were falling in love.

just as you brought your hands down, spencer grabbed one of them. he intertwined your fingers together, stroking the top of your wrist with his thumb. your favourite doctor looked at you for a moment, a sort of serene look glinting in his eyes.

a few moments passed and you began to walk again, hand in hand as the petals continued to flurry in a storm around you. it looked as though you weren't the only one falling.

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#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x you #dr spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x gender neutral reader #criminal minds fanfiction #vikswriting

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mayoanddelight · 2 years

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Everything's not Lost.

Spencer Reid x BAU GN!Reader

Summary: A navigation error makes it easier for Spencer to navigate who he truly may be.

W.C: 3.9k

C.W: Mentions of the Reader being an amputee as well as having a Pakistani ethnic background. Angst rolled in fluff. Self deprecating thoughts. Mentions of Spencer’s school life. Panic attack and Pranks as well as Over thinking(?)

Masterlist

This is for the one and only lovely Lynn's 600 writing challenge! Hope you enjoy it.. I wrote it haphazardly 💀 @lovely-lynn-writes

A few warnings though: Firstly I haven't written for a while (Ikzams) so..don't expect much ;-;. Secondly, this could be taken as a platonic relationship or a start to a romantic one. That's entirely upto how y'all want to interpret it. Lastly, I'm no expert with Panic Attacks, I followed whatever was on the Internet.

What's the difference between standing out or blending in? Both, by context, can be compared with the safety net it eludes. People mostly prefer to stand out then blend in, wanting a unique and distinctive attribute to let the world know who they are. Might it be their quirky sense of style or their rowdy persona, to attract attention. But in the end they lose the touch of reality in the pleasure of the people around them—to look through a glass and see a reflection of not what you see yourself as but of what others do. To live for those around you but never for yourself, drowning in the inevitable duty you took on regardless of the inescapable cost it carried.

Outside of the vast majority of the oddities perceived as confidence, Spencer always preferred to blend in, an ability that never seemed to grace itself to him. Dashing away from him in the form of eyes that could never forget and intellect that was greater than most, a curse that stuck by him like a chewed up gum that he stepped upon. Sticking by him until it formed into an identity, much to his displeasure. Standing out for his young age during high school and his unusually high IQ, regardless of how he tried to fit in. From mimicking (trying and failing) the actions of his peer group to drinking coffee, nothing ever worked. Rewarded with endless tears poured late at night under the cold laughs of the people he wanted to befriend. Yet all of it was unknown to his mother who was lost in a fragmented reality of constant paranoia, breaking the only recognition of who her son was. So he only welcomed the bittersweet yet unhealthy habit of coping through just a slurp of his now favorite drink to ease the permanent tragedy he called his life.

Though his cries for a source of normalcy in life was never granted, it was partially soothed by the people he considered to be his family. Though not fully accepted for who he was, they had seemed to love him for himself without any force of blood ties but because they chose to do so. But he was never fully happy with them, in the process of shielding himself from the pain his co-workers—his family—could’ve caused, he stifled the very means of being real to himself, much less to others. To become bearable to others, he forced himself into a cocoon revolving around small facts and never his feelings. Coating itself with another layer when his loved ones left him stranded in false hope.

But none of it mattered, his feelings didn’t matter. He learned that as a child, knowing his father would leave him, no amount of hugs or carefully crafted cards made him stay. Full acceptance is never acquired so he’d make do with what he had. Creating a routine of conscious and deliberate actions to make the handful of remaining people he loved stay. Not for him, but by the feeling of being wanted. At least by him. Going out of his way to help Derek to move when he had to go visit his mother. Or writing one-sided letters to Elle that always remained unanswered. It didn’t always prove to be fruitful since one way or another, people decide to leave. No matter how hard he’ll try. As if he was trying yo save them from the unsubs but they’d manage to become a victim from their long list.

So to say Spencer didn’t like change was an understatement. Change brings heartbreak and heartbreak brings unwanted emotions. All of it acting like a never ending harsh cycle. Change would mean that the efforts he fought tooth and nail for failed. By this time Spencer should’ve given up this fools dream of trying to control the reality around him, treading lightly but with calculated steps to not alter the reality he feels comfortable in. But change was unpreventable, just like when Gideon and Elle fell off the face of the earth. Replacing two amazing agents and friends with complete strangers way too quickly. However, this time, change didn’t come as a replacement but as an additional member to the team. In the form of an agent that always smelt like chocolates.

The day he met them was like any other, with him following his daily routine of getting up early in the morning to buying a coffee from the cafe near his work. He was looking forward to catch up on some paperwork, making his way to his desk, inhaling the scent of papers and coffee. Oddly enough he felt at home in his workplace. But he froze, frowning at a new scent that attacked his nose. It wasn’t distinct but it wasn’t subtle either. As if he was hypnotized he walked towards the origin of the unfamiliar, each step he took made his heart flutter and fall. Up until a laugh, a giggle maybe, caught his attention. That one innocent giggle made him feel so lost, all of a sudden. It was as if everything he was trying to prevent came true.

That giggle meant someone had left without saying goodbye. He slowly trodded towards the break room, wanting both to get over with this dreadful moment and to drag it on. Stopping at the threshold he saw Morgan smiling widely towards the stranger. The feeling of betrayal bubbled in Spencer’s stomach, how could Morgan be smiling as widely when they had lost another agent to the vicious current life threw at them. Just as he was about to walk away from the hateful scene in front of him, someone had already announced his presence.

“Is everything alright, Spence?” JJ. A wave of relief left him, at least she was still here. That left Prentiss and Hotch. Glancing at the blonde woman, who gave him a worried yet motherly look. Compared to all of the team, he was closest to her, which also meant she knew him the best. Noticing he caught the attention of pretty much everyone in his surrounding, including the new agent, his nervousness grew. Shifting to his other leg as he toyed with his bag’s strap he managed to squeaked out a quick ‘yes’. Looking down at his shoes, he flexed his toes until he could calm down the overflow of thoughts and social awkwardness.

“Jennifer Jareau, but call me JJ” Shaking one another’s hands, the new agent with the distinct smell of chocolates—he finally realized—introduced themselves. Their left hand was fidgeting with their pants, maybe they were nervous as well. Their posture emitted the aura of confidence, standing tall with their chin up but it’s the small things that open the Pandora’s box of feelings. Nervousness could be battled with or show itself with a constant jittering of a body part. Like flexing your hands or twirling your hair. He could relate, suppression of it is a hard fleet as well.

“And this is our resident genius Doctor Spencer Reid” Alarmed at his name being called out, his eyes widened as his gaze whipped from observing the new agent to Morgan. Giving them his signature shy wave and tight smile. Noticing his way of greeting, they parroted his greeting.

“Pleasure to meet you Doctor Reid" And before long Prentiss came along carrying a killer hangover and some black shades to prove it. It was clear that a handful of people knew of the new agent, further evident by the way Prentiss flopped onto the chair and put her head down on the desk.

"Prentiss-" Immediately after JJ tried to inform her of the arrival of the recent agent, she was cut off by a groan. Muttering something about it being too loud.

"And that's Emily Prentiss, our previous Rookie. The self proclaimed professional drinker" Prentiss pulled herself up only to glare at Morgan.

"Let me see you hold up a bottle of wine without getting a slight headache."

"Slight headache? Prentiss you're hungover!"

"I prefer it to be called Wine Flu" The playful banter would've (or interrogation) continued if only it wasn't for the alert pinging their phones. An alert signifying a case.

"Guess we have a case, Youngblood" Prentiss looked more alert than before. Might've been because of the upcoming case. "The sight isn't for the faint heart" She said leaning forward analysing them. Only stopping after JJ lightly smacked Prentiss on the back.

"Ow, JJ, I'm delicate!"

"Hotch will tho- Oh come on JJ!" This team was quite the group. The best mix of Chaotic and analytical, the best in town. They'll have fun here for sure, the new agent decided.

First impressions mattered. And his first impression of them had been completely wrong. The conserved yet confident person changed within weeks of the job. Might it be because they started to feel comfortable with the people they worked with or something else entirely. But the conserved manner had quickly switched into a more chaotic role. Case in point, Morgan and Coco (so they liked to be called) were amidst a prank war. No one knows how it started, all he knew it was a not so friendly prank battle.

The battle of Cocomo (their words, not his) had crossed many barriers. Forcing people—mainly Morgan and Coco—out of their comfort zones just as a collateral to the war. The first time it was Morgan's coffee cup that was sacrificed, the one Garcia bought for him, for which he retaliated with (because it was his baby girl's cup) was putting their stationery in Jello. Surprisingly, the thing they were most offended about was the lack of originality of that one.

"Morgan, we do not waste good jelly just to copy the office" Even though Coco and Spencer didn't talk much on one on basis, save for when they were solving cases, he couldn’t help but find them endearing. He didn’t know how, but they managed to break the impenetrable barrier to realism. Their wide smile and constant grin didn’t go unnoticed by him either. The feeling of envy grew, they managed to attain something Spencer himself was never able to.

Upon realizing the ugly feeling that grew against him, he shook the feeling off. In the moment of weakness he found a plate of cookies which looked enticing. Maybe it wasn't the best idea to steal a cookie while visiting a precinct that wasn't their own. But his love for dairy overpowered his self control he reached for a cookie. Chocolate Chip, he noticed. Just as he took a bite, he heard a loud screech

"NO!" He froze mid chew. Coco ran, stumbling through the way, their step uneven, but they managed to reach him, though huffing for breath.

"Don't-" Their hands went to their knees still trying to catch their breath. Wanting to ask about their health, he wanted to quickly chew and swallow the cookie. Wanted was the keyword. The phrase looks can be deceiving has never worked more in this situation. The Cookie tasted nothing like the way it looked. It was indescribable. He glanced everywhere, searching for a tissue or a trashcan. But there was none—what kind of precinct doesn't keep a trashcan or tissues handy?—so he had to swallow that devil incarnation called a cookie.

"I tried to warn you" The look Spencer gave them was filled with pure betrayal. At least they had the decency to give him a guilty smile, offering him some milk which he gratefully accepted.

"That was meant for Morgan-"

"I hope there was no poison in that" Coco's eyes widened as they shook their head in denial. Trying to explain what they did to make such a piece of baked item. But it must've just been their luck when they saw Morgan entering the room.

"You tried to poison me?" His lips twitching watching the murder of a failed prank. Walking towards the plate of cookies, he smirked. "Failed cookies? Didn't know you played dirty."

"May the chocolate chip in your cookies always turn out to be raisins"

“As long they wouldn’t poison me” If looks could kill, Morgan would be 6 feet under the ground.

“Who’s poisoning who?” Spencer bit his tongue to repress the temptation to correct the only mate he has for film festivals. A pale blush formed upon coco’s cheeks, a telltale sign of embarrassment.

“Coco poisoning Morgan” Spencer replied, now it was Coco’s turn to give him a look a betrayal. Checkmate. What can he say? She brings a playful side out of him, as surprising as it was.

“I did not!”

“Well if you ever want to hide a body, you know who to call” Prentiss walked off, winking at Coco. Deliberately ignoring the offended ‘Hey!’ from Morgan.

“Seems like I have an ally” They teased “What is it now? Two against one?” Morgan narrowed his eyes at them and opened his mouth to respond but of course Hotch arrived at the very moment. Studying each team member before pinching the bridge of his nose and letting out a huff.

“Suit up, we have an address.” Just as Hotch stormed out of the room, The chaotic duo, the two halves of ‘Cocomo’ glanced at each other. A mutual agreement was passed, this was to be continued.

With a game of rock, paper, scissors (officially the decision of Hotch) The team was paired up to drive to the scene. JJ with Hotch, Prentiss with Morgan which made Spencer team up with Coco. Nothing out of the ordinary, only it was them alone. In a Car. With the keys given to him, questionable, but he gladly accepted. It wasn't a common fleet for him to get the car keys. He smiled internally as he marched towards the car.

"I'll Drive, You Navigate."

"But-"

"The most you could do for nearly killing me" This really was getting old for Coco. And they knew it would never stop.

"But I'll navigate us off a cliff!" Continuing their protest. Their navigating skills weren't for the part. Believe them. They didn’t get a job as a profiler based on their geographical skills. Not to mention the incident of the lonely cow comes to mind, leading their friend Charles to a farm where they found a lonely cow, named Charles as well. At least they weren't the joke of the day back then. But of course, Spencer ignored them or simply walked away before they could protest any further.

"Charlie here we come" Muttering under their breath as they stormed after Spencer.

There was a certain calmness associated with the systematic movement of something. Watching the vibrant trees pass by at the speed of the other. That dream of tranquility can never be gained when one was driving. For which, against all the odds, Coco was thankful for. But the anxiety associated with following a GPS could never be dialed down. No amount of delirium could ever change that.

"Turn right on the next cut" A frown was plastered on their face as they caressed the cloth of their pants. The rough yet partially smooth texture always seemed to calm them down in intense situations like this one.

Other than Coco guiding Spencer with the directions, there was complete silence. Silence, to Spencer, was like an old friend. Since silence never had the power to hurt you and words—especially his mother's—were always sharp as a knife. Twisting deep into his heart just because of a shattered thought. However, for Coco it was the complete opposite, having grown into a large family, noise was pretty much all of their past. So they tried humming to drown out the silence but it barely worked. So when Spencer’s voice cut their humming, it was greatly appreciated.

"Why Coco?" His question wasn't the most surprising one, they could see that he had been sitting on this question for a while now. Just didn't have the guts to ask. Which seemed typical for his personality. Regardless, a wave of nostalgia succumbed them, reminiscing of what used to be.

"From where I come from there was this brand of biscuits of sorts called Cocomo which I ate a lot as a child." They paused, now that they thought about it. It wasn’t that grand but it was theirs "My Baba pretty much called me such ever since and it caught on from there"

Maybe for them it wasn't great but the way Spencer smiled it felt like it was the they had the entire world handed to them. It wasn't envy this time, no. It was curiosity, a curiosity to delve into the mind of what it seemed to him was uncharted territory of the impossible. So no, not envy to the life they might've lived, possibly with a father that actually stayed when things got hard rather than leaving a broken family shattered to pieces beyond repair, nor was it their open personality adaptable to changes in life. When all Spencer could do was feel lost, deep in the roots of the unknown, curled up into a ball with no one to aid him. No one but himself.

"I'm gonna go on a limb here and say that you named the prank battle Cocomo for the same reason?" Giving Spencer a quick glance they let out an amused snort, shaking their head when Spencer gave them a questioning look. Oh if he knew. Poor Doctor would start stuttering. As a chain reaction, their left hand touched their left thigh. Lightly gripping it then promptly removing it.

“Essentially yes, and it was a good mix for the both of our names” Their gaze met with Spencer, his eyes were wide, but not with humour but with an odd mix of emotions: embarrassed, fear and confusion. Coco knew that if Spencer had not been driving the car, this would be the moment he'd start to fidget with his bag. Upon realizing that he saw their unconscious movement, they knew what was to come.

"OhmygoshIamsosorry!" This wasn't just an apology of a man feeling guilty but of one who feels that the world was about to crash and burn just because of an unintentional phrase he used. Something assuming that'll break the natural of order of their surroundings. A man who would be at fault of the dark corruption that could occur. His self esteem—despite the countless degrees and diploma—was cracked, they realized. He didn’t see himself the way others saw him. Believing that he carried the weight of the world all because of his extraordinary capabilities. And no amount of them telling him it was alright made it better.

"Dr Reid! ..Spencer, stop the car!" Their words weren't harsh but firm. His hands were trembling, and his eyes glazed, he wasn't in the state of mind to safely drive a car, for his own safety much less theirs. Fortunately, with his mental state he was still able park the car with little hindrance.

It was as if he couldn't breath. No matter how many times he inhaled or exhaled, it was never enough. His throat was closing up as he tried to grasp onto the loop of reality. Tranquility. Calmness. He vividly remembered what his Mother used to do to calm him down from a Panic attack, going over the traditional exercises to humming Mozart through the aftershocks. But there was no calmness here. Just disappointment. Disappointment towards himself and his situation. What would she say if she looked at him now? Would she have dropped everything to run him through this excruciating attack? Or would she give him the disappointed glare he was so used to seeing?

"-at me!" He was drowning, drowning in his own mind. In the various what ifs life could present. He couldn’t hear them, just partially as if they were talking in water. Mentally berating himself to focus, focus on anything to distract him from the deep fall of the dark abyss of over thinking.

Tears escaped his eyes, running down his cheeks as if they too wanted to sprint away from the desperation of his mind. Struggling to open his eyes, he saw Coco. Their eyes filled with concern and their lips moving slowly. Always in a similar motion.

"What? I don-" His voice sounded so weak. If he had enough mental capacity he would've cringed but he was beyond exhausted and in desperate need of some peace in mind.

"Spencer, I need you to look at me." He listened, though it was hard but the exercises helped. Their voice dragging him out of his mind into the world where they belonged. Inhaling after working through the aftershocks of the dreaded fall, their signature chocolate scent greeted him. Unlike last time, it was a scent he welcomed rather than comparing it with the downfall of his family. They only pulled away when they could see Spencer was more in his senses even if he had some difficulties in talking.

"How do you do it?" The silence they had maintained to give Spencer some quiet was broken from his abrupt question. Though they didn't get the question.

"Do what?"

"Being yourself. The good and bad.. I'm not saying you're bad! You're not bad-" a slight touch on his elbow snapped him out of the hole he was about to dig himself in. "Being who you are and being pleased with it. Making it seem so easy." They raised their eyebrows, not expecting a deep question like that.

"It's as simple as making boundaries, from just a simple no when you can't do something, stop letting your negative thoughts to overpower to what's positive because believe me Spencer there are many things to love about you, your kind nature, altruism and creativity that knows no bounds. All to letting go. Let go of the past, or at least try to let it go, because the past is a deadly weapon that freezes the mind but not the body. And time does little to help you." Thank you for coming to my Ted talk. Taking out their handy water bottle and taking a sip of water. Their throat dried up from the whole speech.

Silence had seemed to be the both of their friend this trip. Because, once again, they two were silent, but for entirely different reasons than awkwardness. It was the time Spencer had to take to process the kind words spoken to him.

"I know it's all hard to accept but we'll take it a day at a time" Coco knew, that it wouldn’t be that easy to induce a better mindset upon Spencer. But they'll sure as hell try, even if it takes years to instill. They were here to stay, which Spencer understood. They would stay for the real Spencer Reid.

But as sweet this moment was it all had to crash and fade as a realization hit.

"Ummm Coco?" Humming in response, they smiled at him. Oh how bad he felt to be the one to make it fade. He looked through the windows left and right before he spoke.

"..I don't know? But I'm pretty sure I saw a farm somewhere near"

"Coco."

"Yes?"

"It was a residential area." Even in this moment of panic, Spencer couldn't find himself to worry since walking through Uncharted territory didn’t feel as dreadful at that moment.

The curled up little boy finally had someone to hold his hand through the harsh rain pelting at him. Someone who rejected the notion of perfection and carried him out of the tides of fire called his mind. It finally felt nice to feel accepted after being lost in an unknown place for so long to finally being adored through his imperfections. Maybe he could do this. A step at a time against the raging world with a little peace every step of the way.

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sinfulspencer · 2 years

Text

Last breath

Prompt: Spencer’s last moments with his partner.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x GN!Reader

Rating: major angst

Warnings: major death character

Words: 1k

A.N.: I betrayed myself. I’ve always said that I would never write about a major character’s death, but… hey. Things change.

“No, no! Don’t you dare…”

Bright red liquid fell from my chest, staining the hands of the man above me as he tried to press onto the wound that kept me from breathing right. The immense pressure I felt with his fingers digging into my skin was too much to bear, but I couldn’t speak as freely as I wanted to.

My voice was stuck in my throat as my tongue felt heavy.

I did what I had to do, falling into the arms of the man I loved with his mouth desperately calling my name and his voice cuddling me to that delicious side that I’ve been craving ever since the pain started. Though the tears were stinging in my eyes, I knew that Spencer’s were much more bitter.

Never in my life I thought I’d see him cry for me.

Never in my life I thought I’d see Spencer look at me as if it was the first time he saw me, as if I was the love of his life even though life was slowly drifting away from my weak body.

“Look at me. Y/N, please.” - Spencer said, pain oozing from his voice - “The paramedics are almost here, please. Hold on.”

I didn’t want to hold on, there was no reason to.

I managed to save Spencer in exchange for my life, that was all it mattered to me. I knew the risks I was taking and I couldn’t let him take the fall for me, he didn’t deserve it.

Spencer looked at me in a way that justified my sacrifice, as he would’ve still kept his eyes on me the whole time while the world was collapsing even though his world was doing exactly that. Maybe what I felt from the way Spencer was kissing my lips, my forehead, my cheeks with tears stained lips, was true: I was his world, he just… didn’t have enough time to tell me.

Maybe I was imagining things as I struggled to breathe.

“It can’t end like this. It can’t, it doesn’t have to.” - Spencer whispered against my lips, pressing desperately onto the wound to stop the bleeding with no success - “We haven’t even started… Please, don’t die. Please.”

It was true: we never started. We never gave each other the chance to think about starting something. We were too stupid to admit to one another the feelings that blossomed through our chests each time our eyes met, each time our hands brushed together, each time I looked at him and he smiled at me.

But how could I not die?

My whole body was freezing, my eyes were burning, my heart was pumping loudly in my head and my fingers were shaking. I didn’t feel anything, though somehow the pain felt overwhelming to the point I couldn’t speak.

But I wanted to.

I needed to speak. I needed Spencer to hear my voice one last time.

“Please… hold on, Y/N.”

I tried to bring my hand up to his face to stroke his cheek, to feel the warmth of his skin underneath my fingers one last time. I needed to feel him, I needed to imprint that sensation forever or until the memory was going to be chipped away forever from the waves of time.

Spencer pressed his face to my palm.

“The world needs you.”

I didn’t know if Spencer could hear me through the blood slipping from my lips, but I hope the words were loud enough for him, for his brain. By the way his eyes widened, I knew he heard me.

“I will wait for you in the next one.”

Spencer shook his head, kissing my lips without waiting for me to speak. “It’s not fair. Please, you can’t go.”

His whole demeanor changed when my head turned to the side and my lips parted, while my chest struggled to rise up and down no matter the pressure Spencer applied. Everything was getting too intense, too difficult for me to bear and I was ready to let go.

No matter my promise to him to always be by his side, I couldn’t hold on.

“I don’t feel anything.”

It wasn’t true, but Spencer didn’t need to know the pain I was under. He had to remember me with a smile on my lips and be completely pain-free, otherwise he wouldn’t have never been able to move on - to accept that I died to save him, that I died for him.

That I gave him my life so that he could live his own, making me proud.

“Finally in your arms.”

Spencer struggled to keep the tears at bay as they fell onto my face and mixed with mine, in the same way my love for him was mixing with the pain of losing the man that I loved.

Everything was hurting, everything was crushing me down.

“This..” - I whispered, feeling the grip of my fingers on his hand slowly loosening and the blood pooling in my mouth - “...Isn’t your fault.”

Spencer held me closer to his chest, lifting me up so that our faces were still close to one another. My rugged breath mixed with his again as he kissed me, whispering to me to not leave him, to hold on, to breathe, to do anything in my power to stay with him.

But I was too weak to fight, I was exhausted.

“We’ll be luckier in the next life.”

“I love you, Y/N.” - he said with no hesitation - “I will love you in all the other lives we’re going to live together. No. I will love you even more.”

Smiling, I let my heart rest in the palms of his hands.

“I love you.”

Spencer brought me goodness like a gift and in that moment, as the happiness washed over me to overcome the pain, I felt myself slip right to the darkness that embraced me with a warm hug.

The arms that caged all around me and the smell that lingered in the air felt familiar, as if I had known them forever.

I was going to wait for him in our next life.

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