Summary: reader and Reid work on a case involving a child, and it hits reader a little harder than usual.
Content warnings: pregnancy, case involving a child (nothing in detail)
Word count: 1,392
“You’re supposed to be resting.”
You sigh and bite your tongue, suppressing the urge to reply with a smart comment, picking up yet another book from the floor and placing it back on the shelf. Two avid readers in one apartment somehow leads to a lot of clutter; books scattered around the room, left on the arm of the sofa on a random page, placed there before an afternoon nap or when either of you got distracted by something else.
“I’m not working, am I?” You respond, and technically you aren’t, but you’re not resting either, as ordered. Spencer doesn’t have to be there with you; it’s only you that Prentiss ordered to have at least a week off from the Behaviour Analysis Unit, following a case that hit just a little too close to home. Trying to track down the unsub had been mentally exhausting; always being just one step behind them, which in the end, had lead to more victims than you hoped for. The cases involving children always hurt that little bit more; knowing how innocent they are, and that they had their whole life ahead of them. It wasn’t the first case involving children you had dealt with but it just came at a bad time; it cut that little bit deeper, and everyone had noticed the effect it had. Alvez had tried to get you to open up on the jet back home, as he had found the last victims with you, but to no avail; assuring him that you just wanted to get some rest. It was when you practically pushed Spencer away that everyone knew something was off, and Prentiss had sent you home for at least a week, if not more.
“No, but you’re cleaning to avoid thinking or talking about that case, and the whole point of you being here for the week is to process exactly that.” Spencer retorts, unsure of how much further you can argue. “Please can we talk about it?”
Another sigh slips from your lips and Spencer bites his lip, resting his head in his hand as he tries to give you the space you need. He’s not going anywhere until you talk. He isn’t on an official break but he’s no use to anyone in the office when he’s worried about you.
“Don’t you have a case to be working on? Prentiss didn’t send you home.” You ask. He knows there probably is a case but his phone is buried in his bag somewhere, and it’s not the first thing on his mind.
“I’m not going anywhere until you talk to me,” He continues, tone soft, not wanting to frustrate you even more. Usually if you really don’t want to talk he just lets it go, and lets you process it however you need to, but he can’t do that this time. “Please don’t push me away, honey. You know we need to talk about this.”
Flashes of the day (and night) appear in your mind every time you close your eyes, even when you blink, so the thought of getting any sleep seems far away. The frustration of knowing you were so close to catching the unsub before they struck again burns deep in your bones, your jaw seeming permanently clenched, questions of what more you could’ve done swirling around your mind.
“It’s not good for you to be this worked up,” He keeps going, this time standing to get your attention, to get you to look at him. His hand gently nudges your elbow, trying to get you to loosen up, to see if he can get through to you. “The stress isn’t good for you, or the baby either.”
The mere mention of the word ‘baby’ brings tears to your eyes and a lump in your throat, your hand instantly going to the barely there bump hidden under Spencer’s sweater, concealed from everyone but you and him. It’s too soon for others to know just yet; just your little secret, one you feel an overwhelming instinct to protect. Spencer feels the same way too, especially after seeing the thing he fears the most happen to JJ. He cannot let that happen to you.
He hears you sniffle and now he knows for sure what this is about. He wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you against him, dropping a kiss to your forehead before managing to get you on the sofa next to him.
“Talk to me,” He murmurs against the shell of your ear, choking up himself when he realises how upset you are. “Please.”
“They..” You start, the first few tears slipping down your cheeks as you think about what you’re going to say. “They were just kids, Spence..”
He nods and pulls you closer, tucking your face against his neck as he holds you, almost rocking back and forth as you cry in his arms. It’s too much, now that you understand the power of the love and protection you already feel for the unborn baby tucked below your heart. There’s so many what if’s; what if you had got there sooner? What if you had delivered the profile sooner? There had to have been something more you could’ve done to save the innocent children who had their lives taken.
“I should’ve done more to stop hi-”
“No… no, don’t do that,” Spencer pleads, brushing your hair away from your face, lifting your chin with his fingertips to get you to look at him. “None of this was your fault, you can’t blame yourself. He knew what he was doing, he taunted us… blood is on his hands, not yours, my love.”
You try to breathe for a moment, leaning forward so your forehead touches Spencer’s, noses nudging as he tries to ground you. “Their poor parents, I just… I don’t know how they move on, knowing their babies were taken like that. I’m barely 12 weeks and I can’t even imagine having to deal with that.”
“I know,” He murmurs, his fingertips brushing your cheekbones, thumb swiping the tears away from under your eyes. Tiredness is evident on your face and he knows it’s more than just physical. He doesn’t remember the last time he saw you sleep properly, it must have been at least two days — after refusing to sleep on the plane. “Which is why you need to take care of yourself, and let me take care of you too. You haven’t slept for a while, and you know it’s not good for you.”
Spencer worries about you generally, he always has; but even more now that you’re pregnant and he has two lives to protect. Keeping you safe out in the field was one thing, but making sure you take care of your own health and well-being was another. He thinks he should talk to JJ about it, knowing she has gone through two pregnancies whilst working.
“I’m staying here with you today,” He informs you, pulling you back with him as he lays down on the sofa. He tucks you against his side, your back flush with the cushions, a warm hand pressed against you to hold you there. You finally stop resisting him; allowing yourself to cuddle up against him, your face buried in his neck. His lips brush your hairline. “You’re okay.”
“They were just kids.” You whisper, closing your eyes for a brief moment and instantly regretting it — flashes of the case refusing to leave. Spencer brushes his fingertips over your temples, down your cheeks, soothing gestures to try and help you fall asleep, as if he could banish the sad thoughts and make them go away.
“I know,” He replies, the words so quiet that only you could hear, if anyone else was there. “You tried your best, and that’s all you could do, my love. You did everything you could.”
The hand that isn’t wrapped around you goes to your front, gently resting on the barely there baby bump, just needing to be close to the two of you. He doesn’t know where his phone is and knows he needs to call Prentiss, but also knows she’ll understand when he’s not there. He keeps up the soothing gestures to your face, tracing your nose and cheekbones, holding you close until he eventually feels you relax against him.
He knows it’s going to be one of those cases where it doesn’t go away in a few days, or maybe even a few weeks — but he knows you’re strong and going to get through it.
***
Let me know what you think here! Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated🥺❤️
Summary: On the plane ride home, Y/N finds it hard to sleep and Spencer offers her some comfort.
MASTERLIST
Requests Open
***
As the team clambered onto the plane after a case. Everyone was exhausted and the only thing on their minds was sleep. One by one, they all drifted off into an unconscious state. However, Y/N remained awake staring blankly at the book in her hands. The words blurred together, creating a seemingly messy blob of words on the page. She was tired, in fact she was exhausted, but no matter how hard she tried she couldn’t fall asleep.
Normally after a tiring case, Y/N could fall asleep easily and not wake up until the plane landed back in Quantico. This time it was different. Her body ached in a way that made her constantly fidget and shuffle around on the couch. She tried not to shuffle around too much as Spencer was asleep right next to her. Whatever Y/N did, she couldn’t get comfortable.
New blurbs-series: 10 days to my birthday!! (Day 8)
(Not my gif)
Author Masterlist - Series Masterlist
My birthday will be in 8 days from now. So I’m going to celebrate myself with 10 Spencer Reid’s blurbs. Enjoy!
Day 10 | Day 09 | Day 08 | Day 07 | Day 06 | Day 05 | Day 04 | Day 03 | Day 02 | Day 01
Day 08: Spencer Reid hold your hand for the first time.
When you made the decision to apply at the BAU, you knew so well what you were getting into. You knew you would see horrible things and meet despicable people. Moreover, you knew you’d have to get into the minds of serial killers in order to stop them. That was basically your job. But human behavior never ceased to amaze. Even after working on Aaron Hotchner’s team for over a year, it seemed like a every week you will face an even more twisted case compared to the last one.
This is my first Criminal Minds blurb! I'm new to the fandom and haven't even watched the whole thing yet (at the start of s11!) but I couldn't resist writing a little something. Feedback and reblogs would be SO appreciated, as I'm a little nervous to post this!
Summary: you try to hide your feelings from Spencer after he got shot, with little success. Mainly just lots of fluff and emotions!
Word count: 2,181
Episode: 🚨S9 ep 23/24🚨
“Are you sure you’re comfortable?”
You plump up the cushion behind Spencer’s head, being careful not to jostle him, noting the wince in his throat as he settles against the sofa. He nods as much as he can, a small smile on his lips, now that he’s out of the stiff hospital bed and back in your flat where he belongs. He’s on strict bed rest; Rossi told you to hide his work phone for at least a week, but you know he won’t allow that. You know it’ll barely be a few days before he’s asking for it again.
“I think I’m as comfortable as I can be for someone who just got shot in the neck,” He replies, the usual sarcastic twinge to his voice. “You know, the doctor told me that the bulle-“
“Babe,” You swallow the lump in your throat and try not to let Spencer see the tears in your eyes, this being one of the reasons having a profiler as a boyfriend is so inconvenient. You can’t hide anything. He narrows his eyes as he observes you, a free hand reaching to squeeze one of yours. “When it’s been more than a few days and you’ve healed and rested, you can tell me all about the science behind you being shot. For now, I don’t want to hear it.”
He nods once more and remembers that you haven’t seen the things he’s seen; it’s not part of your daily routine to find dead bodies and analyse every aspect to work out who committed such a thing. It’s engrained in him now, it’s second nature – you can listen to so much, but when it’s regarding the sweet man sat in front of you, you can barely look at him without wanting to burst into tears. There has been many tears over the past few days – first following the call from Garcia, and then again in the waiting room as Blake tried to keep you sane.
“I do need one more thing,” He murmurs, his hand still clutching yours, thumb stroking over the back like he doesn’t want to let go. “Will you lay with me?”
There’s nothing you want more than to be close to him, yet you know you need a minute to compose yourself. From hearing that he got shot to waiting for him to come out of surgery, to then hear that Garcia had saved him from being shot once more in a place that should have been safe – it’s all been a little too much. You lean forward to brush a chaste kiss to his lips, his gaze set on you as he waits for your answer. “Of course. Just give me two minutes, okay? There’s definitely three more care packages outside the door that I need to bring in before one of the neighbours takes them.”
“Okay.” He whispers, and you kiss his forehead before tucking the thick blanket over his lap, with a promise to be back in a moment. He sighs and knows that you’re not okay. He’s not okay either – he knows it’s only a matter of time before the nightmares start again, and he won’t be sleeping, but somehow it was easier to deal with when it was just him alone. Now you’re around too, he hates being the cause of your upset. He lays back against his cushion as you close the door to the apartment, and it’s barely a few seconds before tears are slipping down your cheeks. You were right, there is another care package sat on the doorstep, which you know is from Garcia. It’s not the reason you’re out there though, in the silent hall, the only sound being the sobs you’re trying to conceal at the thought of your boyfriend inside. It’s so hard seeing him in pain. He loves everyone around him, he loves his job, he’s dedicated his life to catching the bad guys and protecting people, no matter what it takes. He doesn’t deserve the pain he’s been through, and every time he’s called to a case, you pray to some higher being to keep him safe. Nothing makes your heart race more than an unexpected phone call or a text, your mind instantly going to the worst scenario possible. In this case, it almost had been.
Spencer may be off work and on bed rest, but it doesn’t stop the profiler part of his brain from being awake. He hears the sound he was expecting to hear as soon as you close the door, and it goes straight to tug on his heartstrings. Sometimes he doesn’t have all of the answers, and he doesn’t know what to do. He knows he shouldn’t get up from the couch, and he’s not sure he’ll physically be able to without injuring himself further. He clears his throat before trying to call out your name.
“Honey…” He calls again, when your name doesn’t get your attention. Not enough to come back inside anyway. “I really want to be able to comfort you right now but I physically can’t move, so, can you come back inside please?”
You chuckle behind the door through your tears and shake your head, feeling silly for thinking even for a moment that he wouldn’t know what you were doing. Swiping the tears from under your eyes, you compose yourself as much as you can, picking up the picnic basket full of snacks and tea before pushing the door open again.
“I manage to salvage this one before next door got hold of it,” You try to laugh it off, but he hears your voice wobble, and his eyes follow you as soon as he spots you. “It’s from Garcia again, she left a not-“
“Babe.” He sighs, cutting you off from rambling about anything other than the current situation. “Come here, please? You don’t have to hide from me.”
Warm tears are cascading down your cheeks once more when you realise there’s no concealing it, there’s no way to keep it hidden anymore. You don’t want to push him away, but somehow your upset seems less valid than his – he’s the one who had to go through the physical pain, he got shot, it should be you taking care of him. Spencer doesn’t see it that way, though.
“Please don’t cry because of me, love,” He murmurs as you sit down next to him, pressing your face against his sweater covered chest. He wraps his arms around your body and pulls you in close, tucking your face against his shoulder, wetness from your eyes hitting the material as you cry. “Shh, I’m right here, now.”
He lets you cry it out for a few minutes, soothing sounds slipping from his lips, a warm hand rubbing the top of your back. “Do you want to talk about it?”
You know you should, that you’re going to have to at some point, although you don’t even know where to begin. Spencer stalls for a few moments though, giving you another minute to calm down.
“Did you know, crying is actually a good thing? Research has found that crying actually does make you feel better, and the lump that you feel in your throat, isn’t actually a lump at all. It’s your autonomic nervous system going into high alert, which enlarges the glottis, the opening in your throat which allows you to get more air in to your lungs. It’s the tension between trying to open and close your glottis that makes it feel like a lump.” He keeps going and all you can do is smile, even though the words aren’t registering; you’re just happy to have your Spencer back and in one piece. “But.. even though it’s a good thing, it doesn’t make it any easier for me to see.”
Spencer feels an urge to comfort people, he hates seeing people cry. He remembers the unsettled feeling in his stomach that he feels whenever he sees JJ cry, or he finds a survivor who can do nothing but let out their emotions. He’s no stranger to crying himself, and if he’s honest, seeing you fall apart in his arms has his own eyes burning.
You rub your cheek against the material of his sweater, the smell soothing and familiar, much different to the clinical scent that clung to him after his hospital stay. “Spence… we almost lost you.”
Your mind flashes back to the beeping of machines, Blake’s arms wrapped around you in the waiting room, clinging onto any shred of hope that he was going to pull through the surgery. You vaguely remember a conversation between Blake and JJ, about how Spencer wants to have kids, and Rossi saying he’s too smart to die – he has too much to live for. It’s all true. He has the rest of his life to live and knowing he got close to almost not having that, is enough to scare you to death.
“We didn’t know if you were going to pull through. My heart sinks every time my phone rings, I just get so worried about you… and then I actually got that call.” You explain, unsure where you’re headed, but knowing he needs to hear it. He listens as you cry in his arms, his thumb gently brushing each tear away as it falls. “I know this is your job, your life, and I would never take that away from you. You’re amazing at what you do, and the world needs you. I just wish I could know that you’re safe. People shouldn’t be allowed to hurt someone like you.”
He exhales through his nose as he thinks of the situation from your perspective. Obviously, he was worried, but he always pushes it to the back of his mind when he’s in the heat of the moment, doing anything he can to protect others around him. He pushed Blake out of the way to keep her safe, and he’d choose that option every time. In the moment, he doesn’t think of the repercussions. It always happens so quickly, and the next thing he knows he’s in the back of an ambulance on the way to the hospital. He hates seeing people that he loves in pain, and he hates getting those calls too. He’ll never forget the feeling of finding out that Garcia had been shot, or that JJ had been tortured. It’s a ball of anxiety that sits in the pit of his stomach, and he realises that must be how you feel, every time he goes on a case.
“The world would be a better place if no-one ever got hurt. I like to think my job plays a part in trying to achieve that,” He replies, fingertips trailing up and down your back as he speaks. “There’s always going to be more cases, more bad guys, but every day, we put more of them away. I know it’s dangerous, but it’s a part of me now..”
“I know, and I don’t want to change that about you.” You assure him, squeezing his hand to get his full attention. “I’m not asking you to change anything. I just wish you didn’t have to get hurt, or be in pain. I’m too scared of losing you. You have too much to give back to the world for that to happen.”
“I love you.” He murmurs, making sure to look right at you, your eyes locked on his. “I know I’m not easy to be with, I’m away a lot, and I get hurt… but everything feels easier with you around. And I wish I could move my neck so I could kiss you right now.”
You laugh and carefully sit up as not to jostle him, moving your face closer so the tip of your nose nudges his. “I love you, too.”
Spencer steals the first kiss, his soft but slightly chapped lips brushing yours, moving his head as much as he can so your foreheads touch. You kiss him back with as much love as you can muster up, wanting him to feel every inch of it, knowing that he does. You sigh contentedly, feeling better after your discussion, but knowing he has a long way to go to heal. The kissing is interrupted by the sound of his phone, and you shake your head, remembering Rossi’s orders to keep it away from him and to not let him answer.
“My phone, can you get it? I can’t move,” He asks, looking around the room from where the sound is coming from.
“Nope,” You reply, shaking your head, punctuating the sound with another kiss to Spencer’s lips. “Strict orders from Rossi, no phone for at least two weeks. You need to rest, and I’m about to go and turn it off.”
He watches as you push up from the sofa, going to find his bag, and pulling the vibrating phone from the front pocket. He shakes his head as he hears you head to the bedroom, keeping it tucked away whilst he recoups. He’s in pain, and he knows he doesn’t have an easy road ahead, but with you to take care of him… somehow, things don’t feel so bad.
**
Feedback would be appreciated! Let me know what you think here <3
request: "Hi! I was wondering if you could pretty please make me a spencer reid x reader using the phrase "when was the last time you slept?" and if you can, in a college/university AU??? if not that's fine, you can just make it in the regular cm universe :) tysmmmmmm" - anon
pairing: spencer reid x reader
genre: fluff
prompt(s): #26: “When was the last time you slept?” from this list
warnings: none i think! just fluff!
A/N: hi i haven't written fics in forever so i'm a bit rusty! please bear with me! the more reqs i get, the better I'll become! pls send an ask, comment, or dm to be added to the permanent tag list!!
The only sounds in the room were the quick turning of pages and the occasional sound of discarding a book upon a hard surface. A desk lamp was the only light in an otherwise completely dark room, illuminating the wooden desk and the pages sprawled across it. Spencer sat, hunched over, his eyes scanning page after page, taking in every bit of information he could- which was a lot. Genius was a bit of an understatement. Sure, a 187 I.Q. was impressive, but combine that with an eidetic memory and the ability to read 20,000 words per minute, and you've got someone extraordinary on your hands- and he was.
The light from the desk lamp, as mentioned earlier, cast shadows upon his already slender face and further enhanced the dark circles underneath his eyes. His hair fell disheveled, signifying stress and chaos. As if the dozens of books strewn across the cluttered desk didn't portray that enough. It wasn't until a loud, frustrated groan that I woke up.
I grabbed my phone to check the time, the brightness being far too bright for my eyes at that moment—4:37 a.m. the clock read. When I glanced over to the desk, I noticed Spencer, still reading away as he had been for God knows how long. "How long has he been up?" I thought to myself.
He hardly noticed the shuffling of my feet across the floor as I made my way to him, "Spence?" I asked softly.
A tired, "Hm?', was all Spencer was able to muster as he slowly looked up toward me, his under eyes dark and sunken.
"Spence- when was the last time you slept? It is currently four-thirty in the morning; what are you still doing up, love?"
"It has been about 36 hours and 14 minutes since I last went to bed," Spencer sighed, "I've been busy studying," his voice slow with the sound of pure exhaustion dripping from every word.
"Spence-" I started. But before I could finish, he stopped me.
"I have to study and make sure I know everything I need to know for my finals; I cannot risk failing." His tone was sharp and stressed.
"Spencer," I said firmly, "Look at me." He dropped his head for a moment before setting the book aside and turning toward me. "Please, you need to get at least a little bit of sleep. Your first final isn't until Monday, and it is currently Saturday. I can't stand seeing you so stressed; you're going to make yourself sick working like this. Please, come lie down."
Spencer stayed quiet, his eyes still trained on my face, seemingly studying all of it. "Spence," I said as I moved behind him, draping my arms over his shoulders and leaning down to place my head on his shoulder so that I could whisper to him, "You are going to do great on this final. You are quite literally the most intelligent person I have ever had the pleasure of not only meeting but falling in love with; the final is going to be a breeze." I cemented my words with a loving kiss on his cheek.
A tired smile spread across his face as his eyes started to droop, "Thank you, (Y/N)." Spencer slowly stood and stretched before turning toward me. He'd been sitting so long I'd almost forgotten how tall he was. Spencer leaned down, cupping my face in his hands, and placed a kiss upon my head and nose before finally giving me a tired yet loving kiss upon my lips.
"I love you," he whispered before silently taking my hand, leading me to the bed, plopping down, and pulling me on top of him. Wrapping his arms tightly around me, he gave me one last kiss upon my head before he was sound asleep. Looking back, I don't recall ever seeing him fall asleep that quickly. The sound of his heartbeat and the rhythm of his breathing lulled me back to sleep before I even realized I was still tired.
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