summary: reader mistakingly picks a lock to the wrong apartment in the dead of night when attempting to get into a friend’s apartment.
warnings: fluff, ooc spencer, mentions of alcohol
word count: 1.5 k
a/n: I know it’s been a while, I haven’t had much inspiration and have been very busy, but I conjured up this little thing a bit ago and decided to post. This is a little ooc for Spencer but I thought the idea was too fun not to share.
_______________________
The darkness of the hallway seemed to blend together in pitch blackness, I couldn’t really tell where the edge of the hallway and the wall met. My ankles had began to swell and I felt as if I could barely hold up my body weight for much longer.
“Why did I have to wear these damn shoes,” I cursed to myself.
I had yet to memorize the layout of the apartment building, I’ve only been staying with a friend for the past few days and this hallway seemed never-ending. Around the corner, there was a window with a sliver of moonlight that cast a faint light against the wall, subtly outlining the multitude of door frames.
I probably should have left the bar when Avery did, instead of entertaining the broad stature of a man with chestnut hair that only seemed interesting after my fourth shot of whatever clear liquid he was drinking. All that mattered at that moment is that the tab would be paid for by someone who wasn’t me. However, this could be seen as the universe paying its due diligence as my head felt as if it had been spun in a tilt-a-whirl.
I stopped at the furthest door on the right, from the slight squint of my eyes, I was able to make out the golden letters that seemed to read 26 C. I rummaged through the leather bag perched on my shoulder, taking out the spare key that Avery leant to me. But the knob wouldn’t budge, I assumed that I may have inserted it backwards, so I tried once again. Still nothing.
I frantically shook the doorknob but suddenly realized how late it was and did not feel the desire to be on a grumpy neighbour’s bad side. I knew that Avery was a heavy sleeper – and most likely wouldn’t move a muscle if I called her – so I resorted to the one trick that I learned at my seventh grade sleep away camp. I raked my fingers through my hair, in search for a bobby pin. I knelt down on the floor, the bobby pin gripped in between my fingers and began to twist. I heard the satisfying click, becoming impatient, I forcefully twisted the doorknob and let myself in.
The door closed behind me louder than anticipated but I didn’t care, Avery wouldn’t even flinch. I just needed to be enveloped in a bundle of warmth before being rudely awakened with a raging hangover early in the afternoon.
I began to rid myself of my shoes, before a stream of frantic footsteps came stumbling into the main area.
“Who are you?” The voice is deep and raspy, mixed with fear and hostility. They’re holding what seems to be a small object, but I couldn’t make it out.
I couldn’t make out any details really, the only light in the room was from the windows, the moonlight creating a subtle outline of obvious features.
The man was tall and thin, with dishevelled hair. His eyes were bright, widened and seemingly wild as they flickered all over me. My heart started to race, but I couldn’t clearly focus.
I gripped my shoe in my right hand, silently thankful that they had a thin and pointy heel.
“Who am I?” I breathed out, equally as terrified. “Who are you? What are you doing here?”
“I live here!” He yelled, obviously gaining more confidence than he previously had. “You need to leave, or I’ll call the police,” he warned.
I looked around the room more intricately, suddenly realizing that I didn’t recognize anything in here. I felt extremely flustered and, most of all, more delirious than I had before.
“Please don’t call the police,” I croaked out, sounding pathetic. “I thought this was my friend’s apartment, this isn’t 26 C?”
“No, this is 23 C, 26 C is right across from here,” he answered flatly.
I leaned down to wedge my feet back into my shoes, but decided to just ditch them altogether, it’ll make my escape faster and less painful.
Much to my surprise, he turned on the apartment’s light. He was much taller than he looked before, still just as thin as I suspected. His hair was dark, and matted to his forehead, rounded glasses perched on the bridge of his nose.
The apartment was filled with a multitude of books, enough to house a personal library. It filled me with a warm feeling, until I realized that I’d been gawking around the room for too long without saying a word.
“Look, I’m really sorry. It was a late night, I’ve been just recently staying with a friend and I don’t know the area well, or this building quite frankly. I…I’m very embarrassed and I really am sorry,” I muttered all in one breath.
He ran his hands through his hair, brushing away the waves that fell in front of his eyes. His face softened to a state that was reminiscent of pity.
“It’s alright,” he said, but I still didn’t sound convinced.
“I just thought you were a burglar, or worst-case scenario, an axe murderer,” he continued, letting out a half-hearted laugh.
The tightness in my chest alleviated and I managed to even crack a smile at the comment. I glanced down at his hand, more specifically at the object clutched in his grasp. A ceramic figurine of a dolphin.
“So if I was an axe murderer, you decided to go with that instead of a useful weapon?” I gesture toward the object coloured in light blue. “How common are axe murders around here anyway?”
He looked down at his hand for a moment before glancing back at me. “You may be surprised how solid this is, one knock to the side of the head, they could be out like a light.”
He adjusted the frames sitting perfectly on his face. “Anyway, you can never be too careful, I see a lot of dangerous people.” He paused, taking note of the confused expression on my face.
“I’m a Supervisory Special Agent with the FBI,” he said casually, as if it were a mediocre desk job.
“An FBI agent?” My eyes widened from the revelation, of course my accidental and not to mention harmless intrusion was in the apartment of a literal government agent.
“I’m not going to be arrested for this am I?” I wouldn’t have been so bold as to ask if I weren’t still feeling the buzz from the alcohol.
“No, but next time, a simple knock would probably suffice,” he responded.
After an awkward air of silence, I slid my black purse back over my shoulder, finally in preparation for my departure.
“Well, sorry again for all of this …” I paused, realizing I didn’t know his name.
“Spencer.”
“I’m Y/N.” I turned around, reaching for the doorknob and turning the door open. “I guess I’ll see you around,” I said, facing him a final time.
“Preferably during the day.”
I let out a small laugh. “Right.”
______________________________
Avery was using the blender to make a smoothie, which was much too loud for a Sunday. I trudged over to the kitchen island, a fleece blanket draped over me.
“Long night?” She smirked, pouring two glasses of a pale pink liquid.
She held up the whipped cream can and I nodded, she swirled a nice spiral onto the top of the glass, plopping a straw inside and sliding it over to me.
“You can say that,” I muttered, in between sips.
I explained the story in depth, the horrifying revelation of me stumbling into a stranger’s apartment. A stranger who I made an interesting impression on. One that I now had to avoid for the next month until the embarrassment washed away.
“How disoriented were you that you couldn’t differentiate between the number 6 and 3?” She laughed, relishing in my embarrassment.
“Definitely enough to scare the shit out of Spencer.”
“Spencer.” Avery drew out his name, she looked as if she was determining whether she liked the way it sounded out loud. “He’s got a cute name,” she said, leaning over the wooden countertop.
“That’s what you got from this, that he has a cute name?”
“Listen, a person’s name is an important signifier of their character. Like a Brody, you know you’re going to be talking football stats and have meaningless surface-level conversations, but with a Spencer …” She trailed off in a sing-song voice, stirring the remnants of a strawberry smoothie in her glass.
I took in a deep breath, shimmying out of the blanket and throwing it at her.
“I think I’m going to take a walk,” I said, before walking toward the door.
“Don’t forget it’s twenty-six C!” Avery called from behind me, as the door shut.
I took a step backward only to be met with the sudden force of someone’s body nudging mine, I instinctually let out a shriek. I already had a headache that was barely dissipating, no matter how strong the Tylenol was, and this mishap wasn’t helping.
I turned to face the culprit, only to be met with the dark eyes that, to my luck, belonged to Spencer. A sweater vest was tucked neatly into his dark slacks, his arms carrying what seemed to be bags of groceries.
“We have to stop meeting like this,” he joked, his cheeks tinging a light shade of pink.
summary: early in y/n’s and spencer’s relationship, y/n fears the growing distance between them, although what seemed to be possible infidelity, is actually much worse–for spencer.
word count: 1,007 reading time: 4 mins
warnings: angst
a/n: HERE IS THE FINALE!!! I’ve had the most amazing time writing with the talented @goldentournesol. Steph is incredible and so creative, please show her some love! Hope you enjoy :)
I was afraid the chocolate he got me would taste sour, but it was luscious. I found comfort in the sweetness, just as I had found comfort in Spencer. It’s been a week since his confession. I also couldn’t help but feel a little ridiculous in my accusations. I had jumped to conclusions and couldn’t see the signs of my boyfriend in pain. The guilt ate away at me for a while, but Spencer let me know that he had been hiding it to the best of his ability. I eventually told him that I wanted to be the one he ran to when he was in pain. Both of us had our fair share of issues with vulnerability and insecurity, but that didn’t mean we couldn’t work through them together.
And so, here I sat, my head in his lap, his hand in my hair like all those weeks ago. This time, when our gazes met, there were no underlying feelings. No words left unsaid. The air was finally cleared and we could finally breathe. The air tasted sweeter somehow, now that I understood fully. The past week was not easy. Reconciliation was a bumpy road and I was not prepared for the ride. Spencer and I are stubborn, proud individuals. I had almost kicked him out of my apartment that night. I had almost ended the relationship right then and there. What else was I supposed to do when he’d said such vicious things?
But he’d seen the crack in my armor. The room was heavy with the guilt I felt and my subsequent tears were even heavier. The tears fell free before I could even tell them not to. His behavior made sense. I saw it then, he’d squint if the room was too bright and would often ask me to turn the TV volume down. His stories had become less animated, he had become less animated. He was going to sleep much earlier than he usually did. I should have caught on, but I just assumed that his long days had taken a toll on him. Spencer was no stranger to overworking himself.
He explained that he’d gone to countless doctors and I expressed how upset it made me that he was going through all that on his own. I could have been there for him, I could have supported him, but he wasn’t used to having someone to lean on. He was his own protection all his life, and I understood that. I made it clear that he had someone to lean on now, someone who loved him and looked after him.
The doctors had trouble diagnosing him so he referred to a renowned geneticist. She was one of the greatest minds in her field apparently. It was a she, after all, and she had a name. Maeve Donovan. It was easier to have a name. It personified her. She was less of an abstract being and more of a person. I thought about how much of my time and energy she’d unknowingly spent before I even knew who she was. Or I guess I was the one who’d spent it.
“How are you feeling?” I asked, looking up at Spencer, who was focused on the TV now. He finally had the weekend off after finishing a case in Wisconsin. I’d been tasked by Dr. Donovan to make sure that he’s getting at least eight hours of sleep each night. He’d been good at going to bed on time, his issue was with staying asleep more than going to sleep, anyway.
“I’ve been better, but to be honest, I’ve also been much worse.” He shrugged. Spencer’s eyes were never unkind, his soul was too kind to let them show anything other than that. Even now, his eyes were soft, even softer due to the dim light in my apartment.
“Is there anything I can do to help?” I sat up to face him. I’d been doing my own research on migraines. Mostly how to relieve pain. Dr. Donovan also mentioned a series of supplements that he had to keep track of. I’ve made sure to incorporate more vitamin-enriched foods into our diet as well as made sure to keep him adequately hydrated.
I recognized the mischief in his eyes before he could even get a word out, “Actually, I think it’s time for my hourly dose of kisses.”
I threw my head back in a hearty laugh before cupping his face gingerly and bringing it closer to mine, “Who am I to deny you your medication?”
His grin was contagious, it went straight to my heartstrings and I felt weightless when he looked at me like that. His hands were perched on my waist and I brushed our noses together once before sealing our lips.
Together we lived in the clouds, sharing the same bubble. We’ve finally rebuilt the fantasy we had before, although this time a newfound trust had formed. However, that is not to say that everything was instantly perfect. Frankly, I think that the inexperience and the unknown is what gives beauty to this world, our world. To me, anything with him was perfect, no matter what the great philosophers say. But they were right in one aspect: defining voluntaryignorance.
The bliss I felt in our intimate space was addicting, it turned my brain into gullible mush. I didn’t want to believe that eternity didn’t exist. How can it not when it feels like this? I refuse to believe it. But harsh reality does not lie, it is only ourselves willing to fall for it. One day, Spencer’s arms would no longer be around me, and his lips would no longer brush softly against mine. The bubble would shatter like glass, the deception following suit. But for now, this lie was a silent agreement between Spencer and I. No matter the blissful ignorance we shared between us; no matter the ignorance of Spencer’s remaining lucidity, I knew this was the only lie we wished to be true.
summary: early in y/n’s and spencer’s relationship, y/n fears the growing distance between them, although what seemed to be possible infidelity, is actually much worse–for spencer.
What kind of life is lived when all you’re doing is waiting for the other shoe to drop? Waiting for the inevitability of cruelty? I stepped into a relationship with Spencer never expecting that I’d be waiting for the cord to snap. He led me into a cocoon of safety, one where I never doubted his motives. One I wasn’t sure I deserved.
Three little words can seemingly make or break a relationship, and the words Spencer had uttered confirmed that theory. However, unlike in most relationships–at least the fortunate ones, it wasn’t the three-word spectacle that symbolized the deep passion or confirmation of the shared sentiments. Instead, the dreadful trinity cut me deep, symbolizing the undoing of what we have–correction, had.
“It’s a date.”
I wish I could curse the air, scream into the sky, and stomp at the earth below me, but I couldn’t help but direct all malice to me.
What did she have that I didn’t? It must’ve been my intelligence. Everyday, Spencer was surrounded by the brightest minds–him outshining the rest, although his humbled self would always discredit that matter. With a considerate heart, he would mind voicing his opinions of people out loud, keeping to himself. However, there’s a significant distinction between publicly expressing your judgement and having internal thoughts, though unshared, still exist.
This baffled me, considering Spencer had always reassured me of this particular insecurity, suppressing the disquiet of my thoughts. Would he have lied? He seemingly excels at that, as of recent, among his other accolades. I would never admit it to him, but I would often find myself skimming through the books he loved–analyzing them so I’d better understand his mind or to offer a common topic. All the things I did for him to seem smarter in the past makes me look stupid now. The wasted effort should set every fiber of my being aflame and angered, however, all I can really feel is the doubt and self-resentment pricking at the walls of my chest.
All I can show for it are the blotched texture of my cheeks from incessant wet streaks, the suffocating push and pull of my throat, and the tautness of my muscles from the inability to move. On top of that, a heavy heart that carried the haunting spirit of a failure.
This disposition left me paralyzed on a Thursday night, alone in my apartment. The parallel left me with an incredulous expression. Just last week, I was on the precipice of my relationship without knowing it–senseless to the downward spiral that followed. What would I have changed, had I known this was going to happen? I tell myself this was all on him, but what if it isn’t? What if I led him to do this? To seek love and comfort in someone else.
Spencer’s been out of town for the last four days. I should have kept up with our nightly calls, but the truth is I couldn’t hear his voice without breaking down. His calls were left unanswered and I didn’t even know if that worried him or not. My insecurities had me by the throat and I just couldn’t shake them. Why was I dreading the day he returned? I’d seen his text messages, but hadn’t bothered to reply. I didn’t want him to know that I was festering in my own self-pity, so when I finally answered the call after he texted me to let me know that he was in town, I pretended I was someone else for it.
But then I thought…maybe, just maybe, it was all in my head. Maybe he wasn’t calling her as much as he was calling me, I didn’t even know if it was a her. I still thought that I might be desperate enough for his attention. So much so that I was willing to be the second option.
The phone call was short and dry, but I did my best to pretend that I was fine. He said he would take me out on a date tomorrow. It would be Friday, not Thursday. He said he was busy today and I didn’t ask him what he was doing, I had a feeling the knowledge would only cleave our relationship further. As tempting as it felt to pull away from him even more, I must admit that I missed him. I missed the way his nose scrunched when he was listening to me talk, I missed the way he’d always chime in with his facts and stories. I missed what we had and who we were before things started to change.
I forced myself to get ready for our date the next day. I circled around my apartment like a vulture circling around its prey, as if I’d find any motivation lying around, but it felt redundant so I stopped. I sat on my couch and nervously tapped away my anxiety until the doorbell rang throughout my apartment. Taking a deep breath, I made my way over to the door and opened it to see him holding a large bouquet of flowers and a box of chocolates. He’d never been one for grand gestures, and I’d never been one for flowers and chocolates, but from him, they were precious. I let myself accept them with a smile, even though the dread was eating me alive from the inside. Don’t cheaters and psychopaths buy gifts for their victims in a way to suppress their guilt? Did I just compare my boyfriend to a psychopath?
“What’s all this for?” I asked him after he greeted me with a kiss to my cheek. I put the flowers in a vase as he spoke, following me through the hallway and into my kitchen.
“Well, I felt bad for postponing our date and you sounded upset over the phone. I’m sorry I technically missed our date night.” Spencer said, tapping his fingers on my counter, waiting for my reaction. I surveyed him under my lashes. His remorse seemed genuine, but I was no profiler. I wouldn’t be able to catch his quirks as easily as he would.
I merely nodded, “Thank you, I love them.” I said, but the words felt like they were spoken from behind me, from someone else’s mouth. His eyes raked over me like they were assessing me, just as mine had a few moments ago.
“What?” I asked, trying my best to convey curiosity instead of acidity.
“Nothing, you just seem a bit on edge.” He said, smoothing a hand over his cardigan. My eyes followed his hand instead of meeting with his. His gaze felt sharp, even though I know he didn’t mean it that way.
“I’ve just been having a hard time at work.” I dismissed the conversation and quickly changed the subject, “So, are we ready?” He nodded, dropping it and we left my apartment.
The slight chill passing between the backs of our hands felt foreign to the skin. I guess I was so accustomed to the warmth and comfort enveloping the appendage that it felt like a phantom limb. I even miss the claminess of his fingers and how my own fit perfectly between the dips in his hand. However, it was difficult to reminisce with the penetrating thoughts of resentment and self-scolding in the back of my mind.
Every other step, Spencer would ask a shallow inquiry, in which I would reply with a mindless response. It’s like we reverted back to the naive touches and suppressed sentences in the beginning of our relationship. However this time, a tense air constricted the blood flow to our heads.
“So, what’s been going on at work?” he hummed, tilting his head towards me. Without meeting his analytical gaze, I responded with a mere quirk in the lips, suggesting a less than satisfactory experience. He nodded, sensing the imminent disinterest of the conversation.
While we walked on, I subconsciously laced my fingers togethers and observed the oscillating space between us. My feet staggered as I took a heavy interest in kicking stray pebbles and counting the cracks on the sidewalk. At this point, Spencer’s baffled yet indistinguishable expression had locked onto the side of my face. I would never mind his curiosity, but this time sent pins and needles shooting down my spine.
Unable to handle the suffocating air, I pushed the words off of my tongue and took a leap, “What did you do yesterday?” I sputtered out, cringing out how desperate and invasive I sounded; huffing, I rephrased my question to be less encroaching. Although why would that matter at this point? We’ve hit our climax, and we’re frankly teetering on the precipice.
“I had to deal with some family business,” he admitted breathlessly, a stutter undetectable in his words. I peaked at him from my disengaged stature, noticing the slight hilt in his voice was gone–a tell of dishonesty that was usually easy to spot. I guess he really did get better at it; they say continued practice makes perfect, right?
My head throbbed at the thought, and my nails dug into the surface of my fist. “Family business,” I nodded, not noticing the pure indignation evident in my tone. I hadn’t even realized that the phrase came out as a jesting scoff until Spencer had called my attention.
“Is something wrong?” He stopped suddenly, straying a few steps behind me as he waited. I could tell by the firmness of his voice that he was slightly annoyed by my reclusive behavior. Everyone had a limit, and Spencer wasn’t an exception to that.
I shook it off, finding my composure once again. I fought the bubbling feeling of impulsivity, the wanting to throw the whole world at him for deceiving me. I suppressed the desire to scream and yell, leaving them hidden in my imagination. I detested the way his eyes would scan over me in a mixed expression of pity and displeasure, adding onto the blaze inside my stomach.
“No.”
My delivery left me stunned, and hearing the tenacity and resolve in my voice was almost unheard of. Although it did set a culpable insecurity in mind, knowing that it sprang from a place of abhorrence and anger. The second the word fell breathlessly off my tongue, it rubbed Spencer the wrong way. We’ve had petty fights before, but as individuals we’ve always advocated for fighting the problem together rather than each other. I hate to admit it, but between the two of us, it wasn’t surprising that Spencer had a sound mind. At least, that’s what I knewof.
He took a deep breath, as if he were resetting himself and shoved his hands into the pockets of his coat, “Let’s just eat something.” Instead of fighting, I heard him add, but of course he didn’t actually say it.
-
I wish I had the privilege of saying that dinner was intense or full of passive-aggressive bickering but instead it was a suffocating silence, only broken by conversing with our server. The room shrunk to the size of an elevator, and the extravagant decor transformed into four silver surrounding walls. Despite being only 3 feet away from each other, our presence felt miles away. At one point, I even contemplated fabricating a convoluted excuse to leave abruptly but it was my pride that prevented me from doing so.
The walk back to my apartment was even more tense. Spencer’s breathing pattern was off. I couldn’t remember when I’d begun analyzing his breathing, but I could tell something was off. The second the door of my unit slammed shut, I knew I was trapped in a vulnerable position. Spencer leaned against the door, dissecting every movement I made. I felt scrutinized under his line of sight, my resolve shrinking into nonexistence while I bit my tongue.
He scoffed under his breath, throwing his coat and phone onto the side table by the entrance. “So are we going to talk about what happened, or frankly, the lack of anything happening back there?” He held a pointed gaze, shifting his weight onto his hip. His tongue swiped the bottom of his lip, patiently waiting for an answer.
A breath was caught in my throat, preventing me from getting any words out. I refused to face him, keeping myself busy by trying to find a place for my belongings. I knew I had to be wise with my next words, however, my impulsivity was, sooner than later, going to send me into a fit of combustion. I found myself teetering at the precipice once again, thinking back to the lies and excuses he shamelessly threw my way. On the other hand, I couldn’t help but confide in the sunlight of our past. With only a few more seconds of running oxygen, I sighed, mumbling a deflecting response, “There’s not really much to talk about.”
The soft bang against the door caught me off guard. Shock ran through me as I turned around with an incredulous expression. My stature unconsciously shriveled into itself in fright as Spencer’s fist slide from the oak door. My mouth hung open, frozen in state, unable to form coherent sentences. Never once had I seen Spencer express himself by physical means, let alone operate on his own anger. Maybe it was the present naivety that lingered in our relationship, but judging by the discreet upset shown on his face, he too was stupefied.
“What is going on with you lately?” I asked, looking at him with a certain level of incredulity. His mouth flew open as his brows rose to his hairline. The once tense hands dropped to his sides as he swiped a few hairs from his face.
He gestured to the air with a nonchalant figure before deflecting the question at hand. “I could ask you the same thing, Y/N.” I could hear the slight stagger in his tone, like he was holding a part of himself back. It must’ve been the adrenaline pumping through his veins from whatever affair he participated in. Frankly it made me question the integrity of his fib; how long was he going to hold out on me?
I couldn’t distinguish between the thoughts of Spencer possibly continuing this fib because of his cowardice or if Spencer truly thought I was too gullible. Both sent a blaze through me that attacked every piece of rationality I had left; it was as if shots of espresso were injected into my veins. Spencer’s elusive response hadn’t helped with the compelling sensation either, leaving me defenseless against my absurdity.
Although, to think of it, is it really illogical to be vexed by Spencer’s vague behavior?
“Me?! I’m not the one who’s being secretive.” I defended, my fists at my side.
“And how exactly am I being secretive, y/n?” Spencer raised his voice, an unfamiliar boom echoing throughout the room. “Please! Tell me ‘exactly,’ how I’m being secretive.” He responded like a petulant child, emphasizing simple words to enhance the condescension in his tone.
“Oh, so you think I haven’t noticed the calls? The way you hide your phone from my view when you get a notification? Do you really think I’m that stupid, Spencer?” I said.
“And, how is that exactly being secretive, y/n? I have my own business to attend to,” he defended. “Frankly, I think you’re the one overstepping here!” Spencer avoided the question per usual, unconsciously switching the scope to me. I felt a bubble rise in my throat, similar to the tightness I felt whenever I cried, however this time, it was from a place of malice.
“I am not overstepping because you are being secretive! I have no idea who you’re talking to! Where were you last week? Where were you yesterday?” I fought to keep my voice even.
“How is that even your business in the first place? You’re not my mother.” His voice cracked on the last syllable, almost undetectable to unknowing ears. He tried to brush it off, using intimidation to distract from the emotion crawling up his throat. Knowing Spencer, he did a rather exceptional job, although at this moment, I suspected a chink in his resolve.
“I don’t have to be your mother to know that something is wrong! Stop deflecting!” I blurted in a fit of frustration.
“You see, you keep trying to tell me that there’s something ‘wrong,’ with me! But there’s obviously some unresolved issue that you’re getting at here to be this upset!” He threw his hands into the air, shrugging his shoulders with an air of arrogance.
“God, do not twist my words here, Spencer Reid! I did not say that there was anything wrong with you, I said there was something wrong. Unresolved issue?! What the hell does that even mean?”
“You know for someone who’s claiming to be so perceptive of what’s ‘wrong,’ you’re really awful at being self-aware. I mean…the attitude, the distance, the–the closed off expression at dinner! I mean wh-what the hell was that!” He grimaced, biting the inside of his cheek as he finished his heated spiel.
I couldn’t help but scoff at his words. Me not being self-aware! “Oh, please. Ladies and gentlemen, a world class behavioral analyst!” I gestured to him sarcastically, like a ringmaster would with his gags, hoping that Spencer could realize how ridiculous he sounded. “You tell me why I was acting so strange!” I was livid, the words that came out didn’t seem to make any sense. I just wanted him to feel what I felt.
“Oh, I’m sorry! Let me play my part,” he pathetically bowed to me, exaggerating his movements. “Here, I’ll sit and do the things that you can’t, and practically feed into all your insecurity!” He mockingly laughed, “because that’s what this is all about right? You’re not getting enough attention?”
I groaned in frustration, “You are so infuriating!” I could feel the anger ripping its way through my skull.
“And you’re so invasive! All I needed was time and space to figure a few personal things out. I’m sorry that we’re not at a point in our relationship where I’m expected to tell you every bit of my life.” He pointed to himself with such ferocity, although it was the pure indignation in his eyes that sent a harsh chill into me. “I’m notcomfortablewithyou, and that’s that.”
I couldn’t ignore the way his words stabbed their way into my heart upon hearing them. They violently ripped open a cavern in my chest and settled there. My moment of hesitation must have caught him off guard and he reeled back slightly, as if aware of what he had said. The air in the room began to shift as the silence danced between us, taunting us.
Beyond my control, my lip quivered slightly as I stared at him, my eyes growing wetter by the second, “Is that…is that why you’re cheating on me?” I asked, my voice coming out shockingly small. I was never the best at showing my emotions and being vulnerable, but if he was going to break up with me, he had to do it now before the dam released.
His eyebrows cinched together, his mouth following suit. He turned his attention away from me, taking his head in the palm of his hands. The tips of his fingers rubbed at his temples while I stood there helplessly. It was as if my words were obsolete in his ears, getting lost in the thick air. His shoulders rolled back and his chest puffed; his eyes were also scrunched closed like he was tired of hearing my voice. “God, y/n,” he whispered, dropping his head, “can we not get into his right now?”
A ball had expanded in my throat, and the gates that fortified every tear I suppressed crumbled. My chest compressed and expanded at the same time, leaving me in an aching loop. “Did… Are you just…” I bit my lip as it continued to tremble, stifling the sobs crawling up my esophagus. I leaned my head back, diverting my attention to the ceiling to save the last bit of my composure.
Soon enough, the fire from before mixed with the saltiness of the fluid staining my cheeks. I had needed some part of me alive–I needed part of me to live for me. Nonetheless, that didn’t stop the constriction of my muscles, contrasting with the exhaustion coursing through my head. At this point, I didn’t know if I was going to fall or peak. I didn’t know if I was on that precipice again or if I was soaring into a disposition much worse.
It was poetic if you thought about it. The pain and exhaustion was my kerosene to an unforeseen ember. He sighed, reaching my prodding eyes once again, “I’m just… I’m getting a headache from all this.”
“Spencer fucking Reid, ladies and gentlemen.” I brought my middle fingers under my eyes, wiping away the pain and grime. I shook my head, biting my bottom lip but not biting my tongue. Not this time. “All you can fucking say is that… you have a headache?” I scoffed. “Well you know what Dr. Reid-”
“Y/N, we’re not getting into this.” He began to cower away, brushing past me to get to the kitchen. Gently pushing me aside, he dared not to look back at my provoked visage.
“No, let me talk” I asserted.
“You can talk however the hell you like, y/n.” Spencer turned around, shrugging his shoulders like an odd air of indifference. His head was still in his clutch, explaining his lack of eye contact. “But I sure as hell won’t be listening to you.”
“Funny how I’m causing you a fucking headache cause your mouth is doing the same damn thing to-”
“Y/N…”
“GOD, can you let me speak!” I huffed, feeling an overpowering shock shoot through my resolve. Sparks fused with the blood in my veins and the adrenaline felt like battery acid. I guess I was soaring rather than falling.
“Y/N, I really don’t want to get into this…” His voice went suspiciously soft, although I knew better than to let that hinder my determination.
“Why don’t you see a doctor then?” I spat, unbeknownst to the animosity tied to my words. “You know what?! Why don’t you fuck them too, since you’re on a damn roll!”
The air changed the second those words rolled off my tongue, however, I was unfortunately unconscious to the great shift. Spencer’s hand left his temple, and his head slowly raised to reach my eyeline. He held a blank expression, but by the indistinguishable twitch in his cheek, I knew his nonchalant demeanor dissipated.
“You don’t know a damn thing,” he mumbled in intimacy, like he was reassuring himself. “Maybe I should see a doctor–MATTER of a fact, I am seeing one,” he nodded mockingly, his eyes lined in a penetrating glare.
My heart sank at his words; the ground below me decayed, seemingly unable to support the withered organ. However, if I had known that the world, myworld, would collapse with an unsettling phrase that would follow, maybe I would’ve preferred falling off that peak after all.
“But I’m not fucking anyone, y/n. I never did.” The words left him breathless and gritted with every syllable, although that didn’t take away from the pure abhorrence towards me.
“I’m sick… Are you satisfied now? My mind is slowly deteriorating, my mother’s illness is slowly killing me,” he cried, “an-and all you care about is yourself.” His face fell to the floor, hiding the blotchy redness invading his cheeks. “Frankly, with whatever lucidity I have remaining… I would rather spend it on anyone better thanyou…”
There was no doubt the Spencer Reid was awkward, everyone could agree with that, but it wasn’t until they met her that anyone had ever seen him stutter or speechless. She seemed to change him in so many ways, and it was obvious to the whole team that he was falling hard. There were times when they just caught his staring at her with a look of complete admiration and adoration in his eyes. They just seemed to compliment each other perfectly. He could ramble on, stutter, mess up on his words or embarrass himself completely and she would just laugh softly with a kind of fondness in her eyes. He wasn’t used to her physical affection quite yet. It was so random, but comforting and sometimes he had trouble reciprocating and that’s what bothered him. He had never really been in a relationship unless you count Maeve, but he had never had the chance to be physically affectionate with her and Y/n, well she had experience. To him it seemed like she did, the way it was so casual for her and she didn’t have to hesitate before she acted. She could communicate with everyone so effortlessly and it wasn’t awkward. Her actions spoke volumes and she seemed so comfortable expressing herself. It took Spencer a while to realize exactly what he was feeling, he was feeling insecure. She made him feel things he had never felt before, things even stronger than Maeve and it terrified him. He knew he wasn’t as bad as he used to be, he definitely wasn’t like he used to be years ago when he joined the BAU, he had come a long way, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t terrified. He wasn’t like Morgan who was smooth and charming, able to flirt at any moment. He didn’t think he was that good. He feared screwing up. There would be times when he would ramble on about a theory or spew facts, only to stop and blush out of worry that she didn’t like it. Sometimes he had to be reminded by Morgan, or Y/n herself that she was with him for him and those babbling moments were a part of him. It wasn’t unusual for them to have to share a room while on a case, it had happened before and sometimes Morgan had shared with them. This time was different, there was two beds to share among the three of them. It had been a long day and the three of them were sent back to rest for the night, only to see the three beds. While, Y/n and Spencer had been dating for 8 months they hadn’t shared a bed before. It wasn’t just about the fear of rushing the relationship as it was about completely crossing the FBI unspoken rule. “Well I think its safe to say you two are sharing a bed. I’m going to hit the shower. Play safe.” Morgan was smirking as he winked heading into the bathroom. Y/n couldn’t help but laugh softly and shake her head despite the blush on her cheeks. There was no point in denying that she had thought of being with Spencer sexually. Spencer was standing there with heated cheeks looking at the door Morgan left through. Why did Morgan have to say that? He would never have the guts to act on such a suggestion. “It’s late so we might as well just get changed and go to sleep.” Y/n’s suggestion seemed to take Spencer by surprise. How could they get changed? They were in the same room right now. Morgan was in the bathroom, there was nowhere for the other person to go. “Here? Together?” His voice came out hesitant and confused. Y/n couldn’t help but smile slightly at his awkwardness. “Yes, if you’re comfortable with that Spence. We can just face opposite ways and get changed.” Spencer shifted his bag of his shoulder before nodding. They both turned around and started to change. Spencer didn’t have as much to change as he only took off his pants and shirt, only to pull on plaid pajama pants and a white shirt. He finished quickly only to realize there was a mirror in front of him. He could see Y/n slowly pulling down her jeans and kicking them to the side. He couldn’t help but gulp as he stared. No matter how hard he tried he couldn’t tear his eyes away. Her long legs leading up to her black underwear and light blue t-shirt. Watching as her hands wrapped around herself holding onto the bottom of her t-shirt and lifted it up slowly until it was over her head and on the floor. Spencer knew he should look away. He had so much respect for her, he saw her as more then a sex object. He just couldn’t tear his eyes away, she was so beautiful to him. He watched as her hands reached behind her back, unhooking her bra and watching it fall to the floor. Y/n bent over stepping into the black pajama shorts before slowly pulling them up over her bum. Next he watched her pull grab a muscle shirt and pull it over her naked body. He couldn’t help but admire the way the fabric slid down her back. These little actions were so intriguing. How she used her (d/h) to undo her bra and she took her time, yet was so confident. “You finished?” Y/n’s voice broke him out from his thoughts. “W-what?” “Are you finished getting ready?” “Uh. Yes.” Y/n and Spencer crawl into bed leaving space between them. It was as though they didn’t want to over step the unspoken boundary. The silence was sickening as they laid there for what felt like forever, but what was only a few minutes. How could two people be so close but so far away? Yet there was this pull, they both wanted to be closer, they both yearned for each other. Spencer who had never wanted ached much for physical contact in his life just wanted to hold her. The boy who used to be so disturbed by human contact and the idea of germs being passed on through it just wanted to be held and wanted to hold. He wanted to be close to her. He wanted to be close to her and hold her in a way he had’t anyone else. “Y/n.” His voice was soft and gentle, but hesitant. “Spence?” “Ca- Can Can we” he stops and licks his lips as he takes a deep breath. “Can we cuddle?” A smile immediate broke out on Y/n’s face and she didn’t bother to respond before she snuggled into him with a sigh of relief. Something about Spencer Reid felt so sturdy to her, so safe and comfortable and she felt like she could lie there with him forever. She felt content, but he also gave her butterflies and sometimes she felt like a teenager again when she was with him. It was the most riveting feeling in the world. She could feel his heart pounding in his chest and it was a comforting feeling knowing that it was because of her, that it was the effect of having her close to him. She made him feel different. She made him feel giddy and like a teenager, she accepted him and made him feel loved. Maybe that’s why it was so easy to drift off, despite the nightmares he had been having for months and it was so peaceful. With her he felt at peace. The nightmare couldn’t claim him when she was wrapped up in his arms. They seemed to drift off at the same time to the sound of each others heartbeat and steady breathing.
The bathroom door opened, "Do either of you want to-“ Morgan cut himself off as he saw the two bodies entwined in the bed. He couldn’t help but shake his head and chuckle. "I hope those two wrapped up.”
Chap Goh Mei (Last Day of the Lunar New Year) with Spencer [Imagine]
Happy Chap Goh Mei everyone!
- Last big family dinner before Winter Solstice family dinner in Decemeber
- Spencer had gotten used to the chopsticks (thank all the open houses from family and friends for the training)
- Grandma stills overfeeds Spencer, “He needs to eat more. He is too thin.” Proceeds to give him the nicest meat and veggies.
- After dinner, nieces and nephews wanted Spencer to do magic tricks.
- “Spencer *gor gor, please do some magic tricks for us please. You can ask Y/n *jie jie to help you”
(*gor gor/jie jie = how younger children address the older adults that are not married, in a relationship)
- “When are you two going to get married?” “Too soon Ma*, both Spencer and I are busy with work.”
(*Ma = 妈, how Chinese address their mothers and its also a slang, each family is different)
- 压岁钱 from grandma, but before she hands them to the both of you, “You two better give me great grand children soon.”
- Spencer learning different dialects to have better conversations with your aunts and uncles. And… To understand the names you called him when he is being his goofy self.And… To insult Morgan if he ever tease him again
- “Next time, we should have your mom to celebrate the lunar new year with us.” “I’m sure she and your mom would be planning our wedding if they ever meet.”
- Before leaving, grandma packed lots of left over food for the both of you.
- “I can’t wait for next year’s celebration.” “Oh really?” “What’s the worst could happen?”
*Some Fun facts: In Malaysia & Singapore, the last day of Lunar New Year is called Chap Goh Mei, its Hokkien(a dialect from China’s Fujian Province) which translate to Lantern Festival
How you and Spencer spend the first day (Chor yatt) of the Lunar New Year with your extended family (Imagine)
More Spencer Reid Imagines for celebrating Lunar New Year (Chinese New Year) Also an extension of the Lunar New Imagine I did previously.
- “Okay, just a quick reminder. My extended family’s a hyper bunch.” “I can take it. I’m an agent remember.”
- Boy, was Spencer wrong. By the time the both of you reached the main house; he was like deer in headlights at the amount of relatives, friends and family you have.
- Spencer was instantly loved by your elders - Grandaunts, Granduncles etc.
- Your younger cousins would find him awkward, but they are all smitten and awestrucked by his magic tricks.
- Spencer would also talk about random things and facts with your uncles, aunts that are back from overseas.
- During eating time, he would use forks and spoons. Don’t worry, you use it too so he won’t feel left out.
- Firecrackers would startle him a little if he is talking with your grandaunts or granduncles.
- Extra red packets (ang pao) from the elderly because he is a sweet guy.
- Kiasu (look up this slang) aunties would compete with you by comparing your cousin’s successes. But, your mom would just shut them down on both of your behalf by flexing his job (FBI agent), his credentials (3 PhDs, 3 BAs)
- “Your mom doesn’t have to do that. I’m very grateful for her, but she really doesn’t have to.” “Spence, my mom did that is because… She sees you as her son-in-law” “Oh… Ohhhhhhh… *whispers* but, I haven’t propose yet…”
- He would still beat your extended family in card games which both you and your mom just laugh it off.
- When the festive mood is cooling down, the both of you would sit by the swing at the patio reciting poems to one another.
- “This is the best lunar new year ever.” “By the way, once we are married. It’s our turn to give out red packets.”
How you and Spencer spend the first day (Chor yatt) of the Lunar New Year with your extended family (Imagine)
More Spencer Reid Imagines for celebrating Lunar New Year (Chinese New Year) Also an extension of the Lunar New Imagine I did previously.
- “Okay, just a quick reminder. My extended family’s a hyper bunch.” “I can take it. I’m an agent remember.”
- Boy, was Spencer wrong. By the time the both of you reached the main house; he was like deer in headlights at the amount of relatives, friends and family you have.
- Spencer was instantly loved by your elders - Grandaunts, Granduncles etc.
- Your younger cousins would find him awkward, but they are all smitten and awestrucked by his magic tricks.
- Spencer would also talk about random things and facts with your uncles, aunts that are back from overseas.
- During eating time, he would use forks and spoons. Don’t worry, you use it too so he won’t feel left out.
- Firecrackers would startle him a little if he is talking with your grandaunts or granduncles.
- Extra red packets (ang pao) from the elderly because he is a sweet guy.
- Kiasu (look up this slang) aunties would compete with you by comparing your cousin’s successes. But, your mom would just shut them down on both of your behalf by flexing his job (FBI agent), his credentials (3 PhDs, 3 BAs)
- “Your mom doesn’t have to do that. I’m very grateful for her, but she really doesn’t have to.” “Spence, my mom did that is because… She sees you as her son-in-law” “Oh… Ohhhhhhh… *whispers* but, I haven’t propose yet…”
- He would still beat your extended family in card games which both you and your mom just laugh it off.
- When the festive mood is cooling down, the both of you would sit by the swing at the patio reciting poems to one another.
- “This is the best lunar new year ever.” “By the way, once we are married. It’s our turn to give out red packets.”
