I have an idea for a Spencer Reid x CIA!fem!reader but it’s sooooooo ambitious GAHHHHHHH. The ideas and characters and plot line is all swimming around in my head and I’m gonna try my harder to get it down and make it legible. Pray for me 🙏😅
Cause imagine, reader who is living a perfect life. She has everything she wants - a husband, children, a house with a white picket fence, a good job - and then her past comes to haunt her cause a case she was working on as part almost like a black ops unit or something and they need the BAUs help to catch this guy. And then Spencer goes through a whole spiral like wtf is this lady and where is my wife, so much angst AHHHHH.
It’ll be fun.
It’s been so long since I wrote, so hopefully, after 2 degrees, let’s hope my writing is much better than previous times 🫣
Summary: After a 3-year long, on-and-off relationship, he decided he couldn't do it anymore and ended it leaving you heartbroken. 6 months after, when you're finally over him and living your life, he forces his way back into your life.
Its been couple months
That's just about enough time
For me to stop crying when I look at all the pictures
Now I kind of smile, I haven't felt that in a while
6 months, 16 days, 5 hours, and 23 minutes had passed since your breakup with Spencer, since you have seen him at all. It took you 6 months, 16 days, 5 hours, and 23 minutes for you to finally be able to look at the photobook containing all the polaroid pictures you took through the entirety of your 3-year relationship, without shedding a single tear, instead a small smile tattooing itself on your face as you flipped through the pages reminiscing all the memories, mostly good than bad, that displayed itself in the book.
The time you had tried to make brownies, only for Spencer to decide that it was a good idea to use an electric whisk on the highest speed possible to mix the dry ingredients, and being shocked when he ended up covered in a mixture of cocoa powder and flour. You had burst into a fit of giggles as you took the polaroid camera and took a quick shot of him staring at you incredulously, both hands up in the air, with one holding the electric whisk; you had vowed then to never let him forget that.
You stared at the polaroid with him holding up the 1 tiered vanilla cake he had made for your birthday, completely drenched in glace icing, “it’ll cover the ugliness of the cake, and it'll make it taste so much better” he had assured you.
You assured him back, “it'll taste great no matter what.” which you had instantly regretted as you took a bite of the slice he had presented you, the polaroid next to the first one, showcasing your reaction as you realised that what you were tasting was the dreadful flavour of egg.
Spencer furrowed his eyebrows at your reaction, cutting himself a slice and taking a big bite from it. His eyes widened as he realised the mistake he had made earlier, a sheepish smile creeping up on his face as he scratched the back of his neck, “I halved the recipe and forgot to half the eggs, so instead of 4 eggs, I put in 8 eggs” he admitted, causing you to laugh, as you placed the slice of cake, well omelette at his point, down and placed your arms around his waist, hugging him tightly, his hands also finding their respective place around your waist, as he rested his face in the crook of your neck. “I still love it, no matter if it's an actual cake or an omelette disguised as a cake.”
You giggled out loud, ghosting your fingers across the polaroids on the page, enjoying the memories that reappeared as you stared down at the page of what you considered your perfect birthday. Because in your mind, as long as he was there, everything was perfect.
With one last smile, you place the photobook at the bottom of the box titled “Spencer Reid”
It's late I hear the door
Bell ringing, and its pouring
I open up the door see your brown eyes at the entrance
You just wanna talk, and I can't turn away a wet dog
7 months, 9 days, 23 hours, 4 minutes had passed since your breakup, since you have seen him at all. The lights were off in your apartment, you were sitting on your sofa, comfortable, you feet tucked into your side as you leaned on the armrest, pulling the blanket over you more, the cup of hot cocoa sat in your hands, as you brought it up to your lips every once in a while taking a small snip, staring at the tv which played ‘10 Things I Hate About You’.
The melodic tapping of the rain outside as it hit your window with slight force felt oddly comforting to you as you enjoyed the sound, snuggling up into your blanket even more than before.
The ringing of the doorbell brought you out of your little world. Waiting for it to go off again, which it did, you got up, sighing. You weren't expecting anyone today, especially not at 11:23 pm on a Friday night. You opened the door quickly, your face falling as you saw who it was.
You stared at the brown eyes which stood at the entrance to your home. The same brown eyes which stood here 7 months, 9 days, 23 hours, 15 minutes ago, saying the most heart wrenching words as he took a sledgehammer and slammed it into your heart.
Spencer Reid was back.
He was out of breath as he stood there, his one hand on the frame of the door, the other on his knee, as he tried his best to catch his breath. “I just want to talk.”
You so badly wanted him out of your eyesight. You wanted him to leave, to go as he had done all those months ago. But one look at the way his hair stuck to his forehead, slightly dripping, and the way his clothes clung to him, absolutely drenched and dripping, mimicking his hair; he looked like a wet dog, and you knew you couldn't turn him away and so you let him into your home, your safe haven. You let your devil into your safe haven.
But please, don't ruin this for me
Please, don't make it harder than it already is
I'm trying to get over this
He made his way into your living area, taking a seat on the sofa you were snuggled upon just a few minutes ago, he looked around, his eyes finally landing on you as he stared at you expectantly, running his fingers through his hair. He didn’t say a word, he didn't need to. You handed him the nearest towel you could find, the towel that lay on the chair in the dining room which was used to mainly dry your hands, every so often being used to take things out of the oven. It lay on his chair, a chair he had occasionally occupied all those 7 months, 9 days, 23 hours, 23 minutes ago.
He sat in silence for a couple seconds as he began drying his hair with the towel.
“I’m sorry,” he started, his eyes beginning to water, “I’m sorry for leaving without a real explanation.” he placed the towel on the armrest closest to him, following neatly.
You stood there, hands coming around your stomach, in a way to envelope yourself from his words, not daring to look at him, instead focusing your eyes on the towel.
You opened your mouth to speak, but as you felt your eyes prick with tears, you closed it. You couldn't stand crying in front of him. Not again. Not ever. You wouldn't let him see your weakness, not when it came to him.
Spencer’s stare on you felt deadly, you couldn't find the courage to look him in the eyes, Instead looking up at the ceiling, hoping your tears would roll back and rid themselves from your eyes.
You glanced at him, finding the words you wanted, hoping, internally begging yourself to not allow them to get stuck as they had done before.
“Please don't ruin this for me,” you stated, your voice breaking slightly, which you internally cursed yourself for.
He stood up, in an effort to move closer to you, to take you into his arms, to comfort you and beg for your forgiveness, but he stilled as your moved back, looking away from him. A pained expression painting his face.
“Please don't make this harder than it already is.” You spoke again, this time not daring to look at him, “I’m trying to get over this. Over us. Please.” Your voice nothing more than a whisper.
You looked up at him, pleadingly, walking over to your door and flinging it open.
“Please leave.”
And with those final words of yours, and an apologetic look on his face, he walked out of your apartment, defeated.
Closing the door behind him, you burst into tears. You thought you were done. You thought you were finally getting over him.
And you knew as soon as you saw him, you were lying to yourself.
You were not over Spencer Reid.
I wish you would stay in my memories
But you show up today just to ruin things
I wanna put you in the past ‘cause im traumatised
But youre not letting me do that, ‘cause tonight
Youre all drunk in my kitchen, curled in the fetal position
To busyy playing the victim to be listening to me when i say
“I wish you would stay in my memories”
In my memories, stay in my memories
10 months, 1 day, 4 hours , 56 minutes had passed since your breakup but only 2 months, 7 days, 2 hours, 43 minutes had passed since you had last seen him, since he had last been here in your apartment to ruin the life you had started to build without him.
You wished for him to just stay in your memories, you wished he would stop showing up in real life. You wanted to stop creating memories with him, good or bad, you didn't care.
You enjoyed reminiscing about him, only bringing up the fond memories you had of him.
But here he was tonight, to once again ruin things.
Spencer had shown up at your doorstep, at an ungodly hour once again, with a half empty bottle of vodka in his hand. You gasped when you saw him, his eyes swollen and red, his lips quivering as he leaned against the wall opposite your door.
The vodka bottle dropped to the floor, completely breaking on the tiled floor of the corridor as he noticed you standing there, door open and a stunned look on your face. He whispered your name before lunging for you, wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his face into the crook of your neck. “I’m so glad you came for me.”
“Spencer, I didn't come to you, you came to me,” you told him, but he shook his head, unwilling to believe you.
“No, you came for me.” he was adamant.
You didn't know what to do, but push him off you and drag him inside. No matter how much you disliked him, or how much you didn't want to see him right now, you convinced yourself that it was better for him to be with you than with some random woman in such a condition.
You had him sit at the dining table, in the chair that once was his - or so he would say, as he always situated himself in it when he returned home - as you got him a glass of water. You placed the said glass of water on the table right in front of him, as he looked up at you with that beaten-down puppy look he wore often on his face when the two of you were arguing, deciding that it was wiser to do so than hand it to him, wanting as little contact with him as possible.
Running your fingers through your hair as the unbelievableness of this entire situation, you walked into your room shutting the door, he watched after you, lost, remembering the time he was the one to do that - run his fingers through your hair as you lay on his lap, a random show that you had forced him to watch playing on the tv, in the background.
He sighed as he remembered that now he was nothing to you, even if you were still everything to him.
You paced around your room, worrying about the man who you had left sitting at your dining table. You wanted to put him in the past, wanted him just as a beautiful memory, but here he was, continuing to show up despite knowing that you were done with him. However, at this point, even you were confused.
Were you really over him?
Were you really ready to move on?
Was this just something you told yourself?
You knew the answer. You knew what you wanted, but after everything he put you through, you were unwilling to admit it.
Inhaling and exhaling, you prepared to walk out, an old t-shirt and a pair of joggers scrunched in your hands - the last of his clothes in your apartment, the only pair that you had left yourself keep.
Walking out of your room you made your way to him, or where you had left him - furrowing your eyebrows when you saw the chair was pushed out and the glass was still sat untouched on the table.
“Spencer?” you called out lightly, hearing a groan come from behind the island in the kitchen.
There you saw him; a bottle of wine in his hand, which you assumed was completely empty, as he lay curled in the fetal position on the kitchen floor.
You called his name again, and he looked up at you, still in the same position. Tears were streaming down his face, “You left me.”
You didn't say anything, clenching your jaw as he carried on speaking, slurring his words as he spoke.
“You didn't pay attention to me, you didn't love me, you just used me. I’m glad you left.”
You let out an exasperated sigh as you made him sit up, filling another glass with water and handing it to him, forcing him to hold it.
“As soon as you feel like you're sober, leave,” you demanded.
He looked at you with that same dejected puppy look he gave you earlier, grabbing the glass from your hand and nodding at you slowly, beginning to drink from it.
You stayed there for a few minutes, just watching over him before deciding to speak up.
“I wish you would stay in my memories,” you started, stepping away from him, “No matter how much I want to put you in the past, you don't let me. You always show up when I think I'm over it. Over you.”
Spencer nodded again, as he stood up, slamming the glass on the kitchen counter as he walked towards you. You took a step back looking down, and he stopped in his tracks, staring at you, hurt painted all over his face. He hoped you would see how much he was hurt also.
“Id even go as far as saying that being with you… I’m traumatised.” you muttered, glancing up at him.
He gulped, walking towards the door, “I won't bother you again.” He said coldly
He slammed the door as he left, leaving you in your spot, the clothes you brought out for him - his clothes - still clutched tightly in your hands.
Now i can't say, “Goodbye”
If you’ll stay here the whole night
You see, it’s hard to find an end to something you keep beginning
Over, and over again
I promise that the ending always stays the same
10 months, 4 days, 7 hours, and 12 minutes since your break up with Spencer Reid. 3 days, 3 hours, and 2 minutes since he had last stepped foot in your house.
You thought it was over but here he was 3 days later, at your doorstep once again, carrying a bag. His lips upturned as you opened the door, his stupid smile gracing his face as he looked at you holding his bag up.
With a sigh you stepped aside, letting him in despite knowing that it was a horrible idea.
“I had a case in the area and had to find emergency accommodation. I thought I could come to stay with you” he smiled, making his way in.
“And I thought you said you wont bother me again,” you questioned him.
He placed his bag down on the sofa, “ that was drunk me, not sober me. Now sober me is standing here saying I want to be at least friend, if you wont take me back that is,” a stupid grin was permanently tattooed to his face and you absolutely hated it.
“ I don’t have room to house you, not even for a day”
His grin didn’t falter as he spoke, “ I can stay on the sofa for the night, its not a problem.”
You stand at him, an exasperated expression overcoming your face.
“Please leave,” you begged, “ you say you’ll go but you keep coming back. At this point I... now I can’t even say goodbye and give our relationship a good ending because of you... You. Always. Find. Your. Way. Back.” You were basically screaming now. You sounded like a child having a tantrum as you stomped your foot.
“I can’t say goodbye if you stay here the whole night. I really want this relationship to end. I want us to end. I don’t want to see you anymore Spencer, why don’t you understand that!”
You made your way over to the kitchen, poured yourself a glass of water, and drank it quickly, slamming the glass down on the counter, the same way as he had done 3 days prior.
He flinched, “it's just for a day, a night really, and then I'll be out of your hair, I promise.”
“You promised you wouldn’t bother me, and here you are, standing in front of me basically demanding I let you board here for the night.”
He stepped forward, seemingly to say something but you cut him off before he could
“You see, name, its hard to find an end to something you keep beginning. I don’t want you around me anymore. Seeing you - I don’t know,” you began, a tear trickling down your cheeks as you begin to choke up, “You- you constantly remind me of that night. The night you suddenly decided you didn’t want me anymore.”
Spencer made his way over to you, enveloping you in his arms. You allowed yourself to accept his comfort. You missed this, you missed him, but at the same time you hated him, you didn’t want him with you. You also hated the way you didn’t hate him when he hugged you. And yet you hugged him back, allowing yourself to forget the past couple of months as you revelled in the warmth that he unknowingly provided you.
You stayed like that for a few minutes, before you came to your senses pushing him off you and stepping away immediately. His face filled with confusion, “What?”
“We cant do this, Spence, its not possible,” you started, furious at what you had done. Your fingers found their way into your hair as you pulled at the roots, infuriated at your stupid decision.
“If we just worked this out, I promise we can make it work.” he stepped towards you, wanting to hold you to him again, but you stepped further away from him.
“And i promise that the ending of us… It will always be the same,” you started, “We’ll have a grand couple of months, where we’ll do everything to make it work, but then it’ll go downhill from there. Like it does every. Single. Time. and we need to understand that.”
So there’s no good reason in make-believing
That we could ever exist again
I can't be your friend, can't be your lover
Cant be the reason that we hold back each other from falling in love
With somebody other than me
He reached for you again, and you took a step back, almost instinctively.
“We’ll make it work this time, I know we- “ his eyes pleading you, yet he did nothing but stand there, in the middle of your living room.
“We’re not meant for each other, Spencer, you need to understand that.” Jaw clenched, and fists balled - nails digging into the palms of your hand -
You had taken to pacing in front of him as you spoke, your voice raising in volume.
“There really is no good reason to make believe that we could ever exist as a couple ever again.” You stopped pacing to look at him, crossing your arms.
“I cant be your friend and I cant be your lover. I cant be anything to you!” You spit out.
Spencer stood there silently, not reaching out to stop you as you silently wished he would.
Tears were streaming down your face, yet your voice stayed strong; you refused to let it break, refused to show your weakness. You were over him. You were over him. You are over him.
Wiping your tears quickly and sniffling you looked at Spencer, who had been standing still the entire time, eyes following your every move, as you screamed at him. Folding your arms and rocking back and forth on the balls of your feet, you bit your lower lip, “Aren't you going to say anything?”
He shook his head, taking a seat on the sofa, “You’re right.”
He spoke in such a whisper, it was almost inaudible.
“I was selfish to assume this would go the same way it did every time. I thought if I continued pursuing you, you’d take me back. But I guess I was too late.” he continued. He looked up at you, his eyes glossing over, as tears welled up. “I’m sorry.”
Since you came
I guess i’ll let you stay
For as long as it takes
To grab your books and your coat and that one good cologne
That your bought when we were fighting
‘Cause it’s still on my clothes, everything that i own
And it maes me feel like dying “
I was barely just surviving
You felt sorry for the man sitting in front of you. He was broken. Spencer had never been one to apologise in your relationship, yet from the time he had left you till now, he was saying it repeatedly. If you were the same y/n you were a year ago, you would've forgiven him, and believed that he would be better, but it was always the same. He’d apologise to get you back and then never again.
“You’re already here, I guess I can let you stay for the night.” you spoke, defeated, eyes still on Spencer as he ran his hand through his hair mumbling, “thank you.”
“But before you leave, I would like for you to take your books, your coat, and... And that one cologne you got before we broke up.”
“I've kept your things and anything that's related to you really, in the back of my closet.”
Spencer nodded, “Okay.”
“That colognes on my clothes and basically everything that I own and it makes me feel like I'm dying.”
He nodded again, “I’ll be sure to leave with everything when I go.”
Running your fingers through your hair, you headed into your room, grabbed the extra duvet and pillow you stored in the back of your wardrobe, and ran back out to place it on the sofa as he sat there dejected.
“Thank you, “ he mumbled, looking at you with sad eyes. You nodded, returning to your room, as you compiled all the belongings that he had left here that you allowed yourself to keep, placing them into the same box as the photo album, from 4 months prior, which felt forever ago.
You scoffed, remembering the time you sat in front of this very box, feeling giddy upon realising that you were over Dr. Spencer Reid. Convinced yourself that you were better off without him and you didn't need him in your life making everything so much more complicated than they already were.
How very wrong you were.
You almost laughed at your past self.
You took the box, along with his coat (one he rarely wore) out into the main area, placing the box on the dining table and the coat on a dining chair.
“Goodnight, Spencer.” You muttered as you walked past him, into your room.
With that, you left him in the living room, sitting on the sofa - his bed for the night - with his head in his hands.
—
When you woke up that next morning, you expected to walk out of your room and see him, still here, making his insufferable self comfortable in your home. You expected to see him in the kitchen making his morning coffee - something which he’d always offer to you despite knowing that your answer would always be no - or on the sofa still snuggled up in the duvet you had given him last night, watching something on the tv which he would complain to you about, or even reading a book that he would miraculously find.
Because that's what he always did.
But when you walked out of your room the next morning, nothing of his remained. The box you had placed on the table last night, now gone, along with his coat you had placed on the chair.
The only thing that gave clue to his presence was the neatly folded-up duvet placed upon the pillow, which you had handed him last night. On top of the duvet was a folded-up piece of paper.
You sat on the sofa, inhaling and exhaling deeply, trying to calm yourself before picking up the paper and unfolding it.
My Dearest, Y/n
I'm making your wish come true.
I hope to always stay in your memories.
Always yours, SR
Summary: After spending 6 months undercover working at a cafe in downtown Las Vegas, Y/n finds someone who might make her time here more interesting and maybe help her getaway.
Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader
Word Count: ~3k
Warning: N/A
Genre: fluff? kinda
Notes: This is honestly so bad, you can tell I had no idea what was happening as I got halfway in, I do apologise if you decide to read this and make it till the end as it makes absolutely no sense as I ran out of motivation to write it halfway through. I just really had to finish it and get it off my mind. So thank you for reading. Enjoy.
Please let me know if there is any way I could improve this! Feedback is much appreciated.
Y/n didn't believe in love at first sight. She didn't understand how someone could look at a person and decide that they now loved them based solely on looks. She saw it as futile, falling in love with someone without knowing their true personality. She’d scoff just thinking about someone she knew ‘falling in love at first sight’, Y/n believed there was no love at first sight, there was only lust at first sight. Nothing more, nothing less.
Being an undercover agent heavily contributed to her opinions, she couldn't fall in love (not that she would, love was overrated in her opinion) with someone knowing that at any moment now, she would have to sacrifice her life for a country that she didn't believe in anymore. She could, however, sleep with as many people as she wanted, she could lust after people, because in her opinion lust had no such consequences as love did.
Love simply was not worth the risk.
Love at first sight was a false notion.
Love did not make people happy. She saw it firsthand with her parents.
Love left destruction in its wake, and she had no room for destruction in her life.
Y/n y/l/n was sworn off love. it had no room in her life.
Not until a certain brunet unknowingly made his way into her life.
——————————————————————————————————
Y/n grew to appreciate the little things in life. The little things in her life were what made her happy, little things that she had grown to love in the past year; the birds chirping in the morning when she woke up, her little apartment which was minimally decorated but still home, and even her old neighbors, Mr. and Mrs. Rogers who would welcome her into their home and feed her until she could stomach no more.
The things she didn't have to learn to love, things that brought a smile to her face instantly were the degrees placed on her mantel, delicately framed in gold frames. At the young age of 19, Y/n had already completed two Ph.D.'s and she couldn't be more proud of herself - nor could her mother. Next to the certificates sat her most beloved possession - the only family photo she had. She would often spend hours sitting on the floor in front of the fireplace, photo frame in hand, examining each smiling individual in the photo, her mother, father, and her three brothers. She wondered how they would look now, after 7 years. Would they remember her? Maybe, maybe not. Y/n, however, could remember each of them so vividly, their voices, their mannerisms, the way they’d call for her. She often imagined what life would be like if those events 7 years ago never took place.
Alas. one could not change the past. And so she’d place the photo frame back on the mantel and try not to think of it again.
Being an undercover agent at her age was hard. She was supposed to make her way into the family of the mafia boss in Las Vegas, which she had done successfully in under 2 weeks, but after informing the FBI that she had done her part, she was asked to lay low until a new case was sent her way; which she had been doing for the past 3 years. Her days became predictable, which she grew to like, school, work, home, and then repeat. Every single day. Enrolling in and attending university became almost a hobby for her, which was how she’d achieved 2 PhDs at a young age, hoping to gain her third in the upcoming year.
Working at the little cafe in downtown Las Vegas was something she grew to enjoy. She liked the way every day was almost predictable. The cafe would open at 7am every day. She’d go through the process of raising the blinds in front of the door window and turning the sign around from ‘closed’ to open. She’d take her place behind the tills with a bright smile on her face ready to greet customers, continuing conversation with her co-workers, Jayne and Andrew, who were primarily the ones making the large array of drinks they served. Y/n reveled in the predictability of the day ahead.
The cafe, being close to the center of Las Vegas, meant that it was incredibly common for customers to frequent it on a daily basis to get their morning to-go cup of coffee, but it was rare for them to stay. So when a boy - who could be no older than her - came in every day for 3 months, y/n’s interest was piqued. He’d walk in every day at exactly 3pm, and she noticed a thick book in one hand, the other clutching the strap of his satchel. He would sit in the far back corner and read. Until the closing time at 11pm. He slowly became her favourite person and knowing nothing about it (and being too afraid to ask) she would watch him intently, creating little stories in her head about him; her favorite being one about him being a child prodigy, like Mozart, but instead of being into music, he’d be into maths.
She watched him, on and off, for the past three months and each time he was looking down engrossed in his book, flipping through it at a godly speed, y/n was certain he was just looking at the pictures to keep himself occupied, for what she didn't know. Every day she watched him walk in, with a smile on her face, waiting for him to come up to the counter and place an order, but when he walked in, he’d make an immediate beeline to the table in the back, never once coming up to the counter.
He’d walked in today, with a thick book in one hand, as he always had, and y/n had been thoroughly overjoyed when she caught a glimpse of the title, Schizophrenia Genesis. it was a book that y/n had picked up for some light reading and she had thoroughly enjoyed it. She watched as he took his place at the booth in the back corner and flipped to a page he was presumably reading before and once again began flipping through it. He was such an intriguing creature and y/n … the day she would talk to him. She decided it was going to be today.
“Hey,” Jayne came up behind y/n, lightly touching her on her shoulder. She jumped and turned around, looking at her colleague who simply grinned at her.
“Andrew and I were thinking of taking our break now seeing as it's not too busy,” she said, pointing at Andrew who was standing in the door frame behind her holding two cups of coffee, “Do you want to join?”
“Yeah.” y/n nodded, “but I'm going to take it on my own if that's alright,” she continued, sending an apologetic smile towards her colleague, taking her apron off and placing it on the counter behind her, quickly washing her hands and drying it using napkins. Jayne smiled, nodding, making her way past Andrew and to the break room.
Y/n walked up to Andrew, who was still waiting at the door with a cup for her and took the cup from him, throwing a quick smile at him and mumbling a “thank you” before sauntering over to the boy she had been fascinated by, making sure to take a handful of sugar packets as she passed the condiments station.
“I really enjoyed that book. Are you sure you're even reading that?” she questioned the boy, sliding into the seat opposite him and placing down the cup of coffee in front of him, alongside the sugar packets.
The boy looked up at her and his face fell flat as he pushed his fringe back and tucked it behind his ear, his voice came out small and defensive, “of course, I'm reading it.”
Y/n nodded her head slowly, “of course you are,” she responded with a smile, pushing the coffee cup towards him.
He stared at her, his face expressionless if not for the slight raise of an eyebrow, “I can - er - read at 20,000 words per minute.” he stated, his eyes glancing down at the cup Y/n had ushed in front of him.
“Americano, it's on the house,” she said eventually, “You’ve been here an hour just reading and haven't ordered anything, you must be really interested in schizophrenia,” she joked. “ and 20,000 words, wow. Genius boy” she continued, her eyes widening at his comment, a small smile still playing on her lips.
The boy looked at her, “thank you.”
Y/n nodded at him as she watched him reach for the cup, grabbing it and taking a small swing of it, grimacing.
She slide over the many sugar packets she took and watched him pour all but one into the cup, using the straw to mix them in. He took a sip again and nodded approving at his sugar-filled drink.
“Would you like me to get some more coffee to add to your sugar?” she joked, giggling. She found the boy amusing. He couldn't be much older than her yet it seemed he was bewitched by a book - which now lay closed on the table - that was classed as a graduate-level read.
He laughed with her but stopped as Y/n gasped, her hand covering her mouth as her eyes widened.
“I didn't even introduce myself, my name is y/n,” she started, outstretching her hands towards him, “but Y/n/n is fine, that's what everyone else calls me.” the smile that was present when she first sat in front of him, found its way back onto her face.
The boy simply stared at her hand and nodded, “I'm Spencer.”
Y/n put her hand back down and nodded her head,
Spencer nodded his head, awkwardly, taking a sip of his coffee before looking back down at his book and continuing to read.
She watched him for a few minutes, before looking up at the clock on the wall and gasping. Y/n slid out of the booth, pushing herself to her feet, “my breaks nearly over, we can do this again… if you want to that is…” she trailed off, apologetically.
“Okay.” he replied simply, giving her a quick glance before returning his attention to the book of which he was half way through.
Y/n nodded her head before taking her apron off the counter she had left it on and putting it on, taking her place behind the counter, which seemed to be incredibly good timing, as a customer had just walked in.
——————————————————————————————————
it had quickly become a daily occurrence. Spencer would walk in - with a different book - every day, and sit in that exact booth (as he always did) and she would make him a coffee and sit with him during her breaks. Keeping each other company as they made small talk, usually updating each other about their day so far. As Spencer became more comfortable with her, he would ramble on about statistics and facts about what she had been telling him about, and she loved it, listening intently every time.
A week turned into a month and a month tuned into an entire year and the two quickly became friends, despite barely even knowing the basics about each other.
This day was as normal as any other day, Y/n had assumed, until she had watched Spencer bite his lip and fiddle with the corner of the page he was reading, taking glances up at her every once in a while, as she stood at the counter.
She kept her eyes on the clock and as soon as her break time was displayed on it, she pulled her apron off - throwing an apologetic look towards the customer who had just shown up, and hollering for Jayne for came quickly and took y/n’s place at the counter - placing it on the chair in the back room, and practically running towards spencers booth, taking a seat parallel to him.
Y/n leaned back in the seat and watched the way he pushed back his long brown hair that fell in front of his face, before looking up at her and smiling - she of course reciprocated that smile.
“Have you ever thought about cutting your hair? Just a bit shorter, of course, just to keep it out of your face… you know, since you keep pushing it back and it might just be eas-”
“i haven’t actually,” he stated, cutting her rambling short, the smile still resting on his lips.
She smiled back at him, mumbling a little sorry, which he shook his head at.
“I’m- er - I’ve been recruited to join the FBI,” he mumbled quickly, “and er- I'm leaving in a month's time,” He looked at her sheepishly.
She looked at him incredulously, “The FBI? Why? Aren't you a little too young? I mean, you have 3 PhDs, don't you want to do something else?”
Spencer closed his book before sitting up straight and shrugging, “um- well- yes. I’m only 22 and I got offered a position with the behavioral analysis unit, so I er- thought why not. Maths and statistics and such things don't feel complex enough, so I think it’ll be a challenge, you know, Dissecting the human brain… in a philosophical sense”
She nodded along, “So you’ll be moving to Virginia then, I'm guessing”
“They're sorting out an apartment for me in D.C, so I’ll just have to take the subway to Quantico. Or get a car.” He shrugged
“Oh.”
She looked at him, giving him a small smile.
She didn't know how to feel. She felt happy for him at first, he was moving up in the world, and doing something she knew he was going to enjoy - Spencer liked puzzles and always complained to her how easy they were - picking apart the human brain and finding the unsub, such a job seemed to be right up his lane and she was truly happy for him. At the same time, she felt hurt, he was the only real friend she had. He was going to be so far from her. She wouldn't get to see him every day. She wouldn't see his smile when she complimented him on his outfits, or the slight roll of his eyes when she teased him about actually being able to read the book he brought in. She wouldn't see him for who knows how long, and she wasn't ready for this change. She wasn’t ready to lose the one person she could call a friend, not yet anyway but she would tell he was happy - no matter how nervous he was - and excited and so she didn't want to burst his bubble.
Y/n smiled at him, wide, and tried to convince herself that she was happy for him.
——————————————————————————————————
The next week, Spencer showed up at his usual time, the same book from the day before clutched in his hand, and took a seat at his usual spot.
Y/n sighed as she watched him. She was going to miss this - being able to look over at the corner and see her friend was something that made her smile. The simple thought that she had a friend despite having to live in secrecy made her smile. And so when she saw him simply place the book on the table and not even open it as he looked up at her, she left her place at the counter and slid into the seat opposite him, wanting to spend as much time as possible with him before he left.
Spencer smiled at her not saying a word as he took in her appearance, printing this image of her into his mind, knowing he possibly wouldn't get to see
it was also when y/n l/n decided, she didn't have to live like a recluse to fulfill her duties. She too was allowed to have a little bit of happiness, and as she shook Spencer Reid’s hand, she knew; he was going to be her happiness. And as she watched his eyes crinkle, and the corners of his mouth turn upwards, she decided; She would leave this life and she too would try to be his happiness.
She didn't know what came over her when the words fell out of her mouth.
“Let me come with you.”
Spencer stared at her, his mouth opening and closing as he thought of what to say, “I- er- What?”
“I know it's kind of weird, scratch that, it's incredibly weird, but you're like my only friend and I know we won't be able to talk when you were gone. Actually, we’re not even meant to be talking no-” she started rambling, and was very thankful when he cut her off.
“I couldn't possibly ask that of you.”
Y/n exhaled thankfully when she realised he didn't pick up on what she had blurted out at the end, thanking her lucky stars silently.
“You're not asking me, I'm asking you. If you let me, I want to come with you.”
Spencer stared at her, his face expressionless, “I don't even know what to say…”
“I promise I won't be a burden. I’ll get a job..” she started, she was thinking about putting her degree in medicine to good use, “and I’ll help finance everything… I promise.” she was begging at this point, sounding so desperate, even though she was shocked with herself.
Taking a drink of his coffee, which was cold at this point, Spencer sat deep in thought for a few minutes, y/n staring at him expectantly.
Slowing nodded his head he started, “Okay, I guess you can come with…”
Y/n didn't know what came over her as she leaned over the table pulling Spencer into a hug, whispering thank you’s into his ear as he stood awkwardly, having been pulled up forcefully, keeping his hands to the side, clutching his coffee cup not wanting any to spill.
Y/n let go of him when she realised what she was doing and awkwardly dusted off his shoulders, patting his arm twice before muttering a “thank you” and “text me the details of when we leave” before walking into the staff breakroom, trying to come up with discrete ways you could hand in your resignation.
To say she was excited was an understatement. She couldn't wait to leave the uneventful Las Vegas and go somewhere new, no matter how much she liked the predictability of her every day, and she couldn't wait to start a new life in Washington D.C. with her best friend.
Summary: In which after your first encounter at an award show, Johnny starts to take an interest in you.
A/N: This is my first fan fiction/AU (?) ever, so i hope you do enjoy it. Also, this was originally supposed to be a Johnny x OC but i decided to change it to a Johnny x Reader.
“...And I promise that we will work harder from now, to make our fans extra proud of us.” She bowed down at 90 degrees as finished the speech, thanking the audience quietly and smiling brightly as they clapped and cheered out for her. The award grasped tightly in another one of your member's hand, the name still standing out brightly, ‘Artist Of The Year’.
You stood still and you held your sobbing group member in your arms as another member took to the mic to talk about your hardships since the beginning and how thankful you all were to all your fans and the people that have supported you since the start - you were slightly shocked she even thanked the haters for helping you get to where you are.
You smiled out into the crown, your eyes a little glossy as you refused to cry in front of masses of people staring at you - you were known for that, not crying. You were the emotionless, mysterious member of the group; some people even made jokes that you cried ugly or that you were part of the mafia, which was why so little was known about you. All you did was laugh it off.
Now as you stood on stage, a sobbing 22-year-old in your arms, having won an award many idols can just dream of, you didn’t know if you had the willpower to not cry.
You watched as your members finished giving their speeches and bowed at the crowd as they clapped. You gently pushed her away from you and wiped her tears away. “Jiyoon bro,” you grinned at her, “we just won an award, no more crying, yeah?”
She nodded, sniffling a little, and directed a small smile towards you, which you returned. You grabbed her hand and faced the audience who had watched the whole ‘escapade’ go down and aimed a forced smile at them, your own eyes still slightly blurry with the tears you refused to spill. You looked up and blinked a few times continuously, getting rid of the tears.
You bowed down at the crowd with your members, still holding Jiyoon’s hand as tightly as you could, you were sure you were going to get a little telling off as soon as you sat down in your seats away from the prying eyes of the other idols (most of them anyway).
You looked back up as your group started walking off the stage, still holding Jiyoon’s hand, staring down at your feet intently as you walked, afraid that you’d trip and make a laughing stock of yourself in these 6-inch heels that you were forced to wear - you could barely walk in them for god's sake.
“I can’t believe you actually listened to her and wore those hideous heels,” Jiyoon grimaced, referencing your horrible stylist, in a low voice as you both walked back to your seats.
“I really had no choice, it was either put them on myself or have them forced on me by some 40-year-old woman,” you replied, “should have seen the glare she gave me when I told her I wasn’t the best at walking in heels, she was about to bury me six feet under, alive at that too,” you added, placing the blanket you had been given over both your laps as soon as you sat down, keeping your eyes on the stage in front of you, trying to give your best reactions to the group performing on stage.
Jiyoon scooted closer to you, making sure the blanket covered both of your legs fully before speaking again, already giggling at what she was about to say. “You should wear heels more often, you're finally tall. It looks good on you my friend.” Giving you an exaggerated smile and a pat on the back, she returned her attention to the stage.
You gave her a playful glare, “Can’t believe we’re friends,” you mumbled, shaking your head at her antics, the grin on her face growing wider indicating that she had heard you,
Both of you immersed yourself with the performance that was going on stage, your group member, Ava, and you coincidentally slapping Jiyoon on her thighs when KARD’s BM ripped his shirt off in the middle of his collaboration stage, Monsta X’s Shownu and Exo’s Kai and Chanyeol following shortly after. You were sure your reaction would be used for one of those videos you always saw going around, the title of the video already floating around in your mind, ‘Enigma’s Y/N Loves Those Abs?!’ you giggled lightly at that. Your fandom had an unusual way of naming videos, that, you could agree with any day.
A nudge in your side brought you back to reality as Jiyoon pointed at the big monitor by the stage, which was playing a replay of Ava and your reaction to the stage, causing you to blush slightly. Embarrassed, you lifted the blanket on your lap and held it in front of your face with one hand, fanning your self with the other, you were sure your face had gone beet red.
You heard laughing and slowly lowed the blanket placing it back on your lap as you leaned forward, glaring playfully at your members.
“Oh shut up, don’t tell me you didn't enjoy it either,” you paused and mouthed,” They were HOT,” you fanned yourself for extra measure (and to also make sure they understood what you were saying). Your members rolled their eyes, shaking their head at your antics. You shook your head back at them, moving to sit back in your seat comfortably, leaning back and watching the performances, dancing the choreography in the limited space you had or just mouthing the lyrics and clapping your hands to the beat when the cameras came around to record your reactions.
Some time had passed, more awards were given out and more performances had taken place and you and your group members were getting more tired and bored. They even showed your leader, Soyeon, yawning during the performance of a popular group; that was something your group and the people sitting around you had a good giggle about as your leader shied away from in embarrassment.
You wished something exciting would happen soon, or you were going to end up falling asleep from boredom. You never did like attending award shows, this was the first time in 4 years you had done so - back then your fans argued that they (award shows) were always doing you wrong, as during the voting for the awards you were leading in the first place, but those awards were given to other people. You would be lying if you said you weren't even a tiny bit upset, but you couldn't blame the groups.
Looking down at the mini screen placed on your table, you noticed the time and cheered quietly, nudging Jiyoon who in return nudged Ava, both turning to look at you. You pointed towards the time on the screen and they both widened their eyes.
“Guys, the break starts in a few.” you cheered.
“The break was supposed to start half an hour ago,” someone from behind you spoke up. The three of you turned around and simultaneously bowed your head at the stranger, who continued to speak, “The time on the monitor is 30 minutes behind, at this rate no one knows when they're going to announce the break.”
Confusion struck you and you furrowed your brows at the stranger.
“Sorry?”
He took out his phone and turned it on, holding it out to you. You were sure he intended to show you the time, which was indeed half an hour ahead, but you couldn't help noticing his lock screen - the literal back of an iPhone - which caused you to burst out in a giggle but you quickly covered it with a cough, which quickly turned into a fit. Ava and Jiyoon leaned over to have a look at what had caused to go into a coughing fit but he had taken the phone away and slid it into his blazer pocket before they could see.
You placed your hand on your chest, patting harshly to calm yourself. You bowed your head at the male sitting behind you before turning to face your group mates.
“He’s right. They moved the clocks back,” you said, defeated, slumping into the sofa. Jiyoon patted your back in sympathy. “Now we’ll never get a break, and I’ll be bored for the rest of eternity,” you called out dramatically.
You turned around again, hoping to talk a little more to the male behind you and maybe get to know his name, but he wasn't there; it was someone else. Before you were able to question the whereabouts of the stranger sitting there before, the one present spoke up.
“Names Mark,” he said suddenly in English, putting his hand out. You clasped his hand in both of your giving it a firm shake before letting go and aiming a warm smile at him.
“I’m Y/N,” you responded.
“Yo, you know English?” he questioned you, sounding a little bit too excited, placing his hand in front of his mouth as he leaned back, in what you assumed was shock.
“Yeah,” you nodded your head at him, hoping to turn around and end the conversation as quickly as possible.
“Where are you from,” he questioned, once again before you could fully turn around, “America? Australia? Canada?” He added, continuing to list of different English speaking countries.
“The UK,” you answered him briefly, cutting his rambling off in the process.
His lips formed an ‘O’ as he nodded his head slowly.
“But where in the UK?”
“England”
“Ohhhhh, I thought I sensed a British accent.”
You raised your eyebrow at him or at least tried to. He laughed when he noticed your facial expression.
“Hey, I’d be raising my eyebrow at you if I could Mark.” You said, squinting your eyes at him, in return he just laughed. You smiled at him, finding his laugh to be a little contagious.
You turned around, fully, placing your right leg under your left thigh, trying to get comfortable before realising you were very much still at an award show and then resorting to placing your legs at an angle as you continued to talk to Mark.
“Where are you from?” You questioned him.
“Canada.”
He was quick to reply and you were sure he had been waiting for you to ask him that question as soon as you had started talking to him. You simply smiled at the male, nodding your head again, wondering why it hadn't fallen off with all the nodding you were doing.
“If I'm not being rude, may I ask what group you're from?” You spoke., studying his features as he stared at you, that stupid smile glued to his face.
he nodded his head, before holding his hand out again. You held it, shaking it slowly as he talked.
“Hi, I’m NCT’s Mark,” he responded, holding your hand firmly, still shaking it.
You nodded again, “I’m-”
“Your Enigma’s Y/N,” he cut you off, “I know what group you're from.”
You bowed your head, giving him a bright smile and letting go of his hand.
“So you know my group but not my name and where I'm from?” You question him playfully.
He raised his hands in mock surrender and opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by an approaching figure.
“Mark, move over.”
You looked over at the person who had just approached and realised it was the guy from earlier (the one who had ruined your mood by telling you that there probably wasn't going to be a break throughout the award show anytime soon). You gave him a small and quick bow hoping to turn around before Mark started speaking but of course, you were hit with bad luck.
You stared at Mark as he moved over, giving the guy some room to sit back down before talking again.
“Johnny Hyung, this is Y/N,” he continued to speak in English, to which Johnny raised an eyebrow before nodding slowly. He stared at you for a short while and there was no way you were looking away first so you stared back, sending a small, awkward smile his way, to reduce the awkwardness between the two of you.
“I’m Johnny,” he spoke out suddenly. in an American accent, startling you. You jumped a little as Mark started laughing, throwing his body everywhere and you suddenly felt sorry for the boy sitting next to him, who suddenly had to hold his weight as he was cracking himself up.
“Hyung...Suddenly..” he started before losing it, leaning against the other guy as he continued laughing,” I’m Johnny,” he said once he’d calmed down a little, shrugging his shoulders and pushing his head forward.
You smiled at his antics before shaking your head and smiling.
A light continuous tapping caused you to turn your head, only to come face to face with your leader who looked at you questioningly. You gave her a small smile and looked around confused as you noticed that many people were starting to stand up.
“It’s the break,” Soyeon said, answering your unasked question, “It’ll only last for around 30 minutes, I think, so if you want something time to get it now.”
Your lips formed an ‘O’ shaped as you nodded your head slowly.
“Can we get something to eat?” You asked her, as your stomach let out a small growl. It was speaking to you, begging for food, and you couldn't deprive it of the one thing it had only, always wanted.
Soyeon nodded before taking your hand in hers and pulling you up.
You glanced at the two boys, giving a quick nod of the head and smiling at them, even waving at them as you walked off with your leader, in the quest to get some food - in those godforsaken heels of yours.
