Spencer Reid X Reader Angst - Tumblr Posts

What if?

summary: You have some fears surrounding sex, you and Spencer talk it out.

genre: angst and fluff, hurt/comfort

cw: suggestive 16+! talk about/discussion about sex, insecure reader, reader is afraid of sex, understanding spencer, completely gn reader (reader is not described at all), no use of y/n, reader takes unspecified medication (implied to be an SSRI), bi spencer, autistic!spencer (because every spencer is autistic!spencer)

wordcount: 2k

note: venting in the form of a fic? who me? anyway, this is for everyone who, like me, is scared of having sex for the first time and wants someone to comfort them and ease their fears. you are not the only one out there.

Spencer’s hands slide from your cheeks to your waist, gripping you firmly yet gently. The feeling of his hands makes you shiver and you gasp into the kiss. He moans in response and nips on your lower lip before running his tongue over it. He pulls away for a moment to breathe before kissing you again with a fervor you’ve rarely experienced in your months of dating. 

You kiss him back just as desperately, curling your hands into his hair, tugging unintentionally. He moans loudly, his mouth falling open into the kiss. You pull again, deliberately this time, and the sound he makes drives you crazy. Your whole body feels like it’s on fire. Spencer’s hand slips under the hem of your shirt and you pull away to allow him to tug it over your head. 

Unwilling to part from him for too long, you grab the front of his shirt and pull him back toward you. Your fingers fumble with the buttons as you try to take his shirt off, distracted by the feeling of Spencer’s hands running up and down your sides. He chuckles and kisses you again before helping you finish unbuttoning his shirt and shrugging it off his shoulders. 

Your hands slide across his chest and he gasps again. His hands hold tight onto your hips as you kiss along his jaw and down to his neck. You nip at a spot along his pulse and his hips buck up into yours with a moan. You freeze for a moment as a pang of anxiety shoots through you. You move away from that spot and continue to kiss along his neck as Spencer whines your name.

You smile, pleased at the reactions you’re getting as you kiss your way back up to his mouth, keeping your hands pressed against his chest. Spencer kisses you with desperate, open mouth kisses and the feeling of his hands sliding over your bare skin makes you shiver.

But then Spencer’s hands are tugging at your pants. Your eyes shoot open, having slipped shut while kissing him, and your whole body goes cold like a bucket of ice water had just been dumped over your head. Involuntarily, you tense, your lips freezing against Spencer’s. Spencer stills and pulls away, removing his hands and opening his eyes, looking at you with a furrowed brow. 

“Are you alright?” he asks softly.

A wave of guilt rushes over you and you press back in to kiss him, grabbing his wrists and returning his hands to where they had been, hoping he’ll just forget about what just happened. He seems to move on instinct for a moment, kissing back, before he gently grabs your shoulders and pushes you away. His eyes dart around your face, his expression full of concern.

He whispers your name gently and you turn your head away in shame. “What’s going on?” he asks. “Did I hurt you?”

Your eyes widen and you whip back around to look at him, shaking your head frantically. He looks so worried. Tears well in your eyes and you swipe them away violently, climbing off of Spencer’s lap. 

He watches you for a moment before grabbing your shirt from where it had landed and handing it back to you. You clutch it to your chest and sob. “I-I’m sorry!” you gasp. “I’m sorry!”

“Hey, hey,” Spencer says softly. He reaches his hand out but freezes before he touches you, clearly worried that doing so will make things worse. You press your body into his hand and he seems to relax as he starts rubbing his hand up and down your back. “Don’t apologize. You have nothing to apologize for. You did nothing wrong.”

You tuck your legs against your chest, still cradling your shirt, and bury your head in your knees. 

“Can you tell me what happened, sweetheart? I don’t want to upset you or make you uncomfortable but I need to know what I did so I don’t do it again.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” you cry. “You’re perfect! It’s just me! There’s just something wrong with me!”

“There’s nothing wrong with you, baby.”

“There is!” you insist, lifting your head to look at him. He gazes back at you with a kindness you don’t deserve. You look away from him. “I want to have sex with you, I promise.”

The movement of his hand on your back stutters slightly but quickly continues. “Okay,” Spencer says carefully. 

“I-I don’t want you to think I don’t want you or-or love you because we haven't had sex yet, because I do! I really, really do! I’m just scared,” your voice trails off into a whisper as you finish speaking. 

“Hey, look at me,” Spencer says. You tilt your head and look up at him. “You’ve done nothing to make me think for even a second that you don’t love me. Whether or not we’ve had sex plays no role in that for me. Honestly, I don’t care if we ever have sex. I know we’ll both love each other just as much.”

“I do want to,” you whisper, your voice cracking slightly on another sob. 

“I know. I believe you.”

You sniff and wipe at your eyes again. Spencer smiles sweetly at you and guides you to lean against his chest, holding you close and rubbing your arm. 

“Can you tell me why you’re scared?”

“I-It’s stupid,” you mutter.

“It’s not stupid, especially if it’s bothering you. And being nervous about having sex for the first time is completely normal.”

“I know, but it feels like more than just being nervous,” you try to explain, unsure how to put the feeling into words.

“And that’s okay too.”

“There’s a lot of things,” you admit timidly.

“We can go through them. One at a time, okay?” Spencer offers.

You nod and press your head harder against his chest for a moment in thanks. “One thing I’m worried about is, um, how I look,” you mutter. “What if, once you see me naked, you don’t think I’m attractive anymore, or-or you think my, um, my genitals look gross or disgusting.”

Spencer is silent for a moment and you can feel panic starting to build in your chest. You shouldn’t have said that. You shouldn’t have said anything. What if you’ve messed all this up? This wonderful amazing thing you have with Spencer, just because you can’t get it together. 

“I-I’m sorry,” you start. “I don’t think you’re shallow or mean like that or anything. I—“

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I know you don’t,” Spencer reassures you.

“It’s— I know you won’t think those things but my brain won’t stop worrying about it.”

“That’s because anxieties are often irrational. We know that they’re untrue but they still exist. I don’t think there’s anything I could really say to prove to you that I won’t think those things but I can still promise that I won’t. No matter what, I will always think you are the most beautiful person I have ever seen.”

Fresh tears steam down your cheeks and your lip wobbles. You untuck your legs and let your shirt fall into your lap as you wrap your arms around Spencer. He presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“I love you,” he whispers. 

“I love you, too,” you respond.

You stay in each other’s arms for a moment before you pull away again. “What if I can’t cum?” you whisper, speaking so softly that you’re almost unable to hear yourself.

“I couldn’t hear you, I’m sorry, sweetheart. Can you say it again?”

Your face feels like it’s on fire and you bury your head in your hands out of embarrassment. “What if I can’t cum?” you say louder. There’s a moment of silence before you realize what that statement might sound like. “N-not through any fault of your own!” you rush to insist. “But because of my medication. Or-or because there’s something wrong with me! And what if I can’t make you cum. I want you to enjoy yourself when we have sex! I don’t want to let you down or not make you feel good!”

“Okay, I’m going to start with the first thing you brought up, alright?” 

You nod.

“This might not be what you want to hear, but being unable to cum is a possibility. There’s a condition called anorgasmia which results in orgasms that are less intense, delayed, infrequent, or absent altogether. And it can be due to taking certain medications. Though it’s unlikely because it only affects less than five percent of people, we won’t know if that’s something you experience until we try. If you do experience it, there’s nothing wrong with you, and there are ways to treat or work around it. But, to be honest, given the statistics, it is unlikely that you will be unable to cum. Your medication might make things a little more difficult but if that’s the case, and if we have sex, that just means I’ll get to spend even more time making you feel good.”

“But I don’t want it to all be focused on me. I don’t want you to have to put in extra effort you shouldn’t have to give just to make me feel good,” you respond.

“That leads me to your second concern.” Spencer pauses for a moment before saying, “Can you look at me, sweetheart?”

You lift your head to meet his eyes.

“Sex is not transactional. Just because I do something for you that doesn’t mean you’re obligated to do the same for me. And I can guarantee you that regardless of what we do, I will enjoy myself. And if I want to spend extra time or even a full night just focusing on you, that would not subtract from my pleasure at all. Making you feel good would make me feel good too. And if you’re worried about not knowing what to do when it comes to anything about sex, I can show you or we can do research together. Alright?” You nod and Spencer smiles at you. “Is there anything else that scares you?” he asks patiently.

You open and close your mouth. Anxiety clogs your throat and seems to physically prevent you from speaking. You bow your head. Of all the worries you have about sex, this is the greatest. “What—“ you pause and take a deep breath. “What if I try to have sex and then don’t enjoy it as much as I thought I would? Or-or what if I hate it and never want to have sex again?”

You look back up at Spencer with wide, pleading eyes. The tears once again forming and sticking to your lashes make his face swim before you.

“Then that’s okay,” Spencer responds like it’s the simplest thing in the world.

“What?” you ask, unable to help but feel surprised.

“If you try having sex and decide you never want to again, that’s okay. If you change your mind midway and never want to try again, that’s okay. If you never want to even try, that’s okay. Nothing you do or don’t do could ever disappoint me or make me love you any less. I love you for you. I’m with you for you, not for sex. Sex is not necessary for a relationship to me. And I don’t want you to think it is for a second.”

Tears stream down your cheeks as you nod. 

“I will love you no matter what we do or don’t do. Okay?” Spencer says softly.

A sob of relief bursts from your chest and you launch toward him, wrapping your arms around his neck and burying your face in his chest. “Th-thank you,” you cry weakly. “Thank you.”

“You have nothing to thank me for, baby,” Spencer says, pressing a kiss to your head.

You shake your head in disagreement and feel him chuckle against you.

“I love you,” you whisper. “So so much.”

“I love you too,” he responds. “So so much.”

_____

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MORE AUTISTIC FEM! READER X SPENCER PLEASEEEE maybe her getting overstimulated at a bar with the team? or at the store? i neeeeddddd more of them!!

Bad Time at the Bar

here you go!! tho it's gn!reader bc gender didn't really come up, hope you don't mind!

genre: hurt/comfort

cw: autistic!reader, explicitly autistic spencer reid, overstimulation (and not the fun kind), meltdown (which reads a lot like a panic attack bc that's what my meltdowns are like), kinda self harm (hitting) and chewing lip until bleeding), internalized ableism and autism viewed in a negative light (spencer talks to reader about it and provides reassurance), completely gn!reader (reader is not described at all)

wordcount: 1.3k

There are too many people. The smell of sweat and alcohol hangs heavy in the air and burns your nose. The room is saturated with noise. Drinks clinking on tables, music playing, people talking. Your head pounds and you regret not bringing your headphones. You thought you’d be fine. You’ve never needed them when at the bar with the team in the past. Someone bumps into you and the unexpected contact causes panic to build in your chest. There’s not enough room. Everything feels like it’s closing in on you.

You suck in a breath through your teeth, gripping your bottle of beer so hard you’re surprised the glass doesn’t shatter. You chew on the inside of your lip until you taste blood, but it does nothing to soothe your quickly growing panic. 

You look around frantically, your eyes so wide you feel like they’re about to burst from your skull. Finally, you spot Spencer. He’s gathered around a table with Derek and some strangers, talking animatedly about something. You stagger forward, nearly tripping over your own feet as you try to reach him. People slam into your shoulders and chest and you can feel the burn of tears welling in your eyes. The tears cause the already painfully bright lights to reflect directly into your eyes so you blink hard and wipe them away.

Your whole body shakes and you desperately want to raise your hands to cover your ears but you’re still holding your drink and there’s not enough room and it’s embarrassing. You can feel your heart pounding throughout your body and your limbs feel like they’re going numb.

By some miracle, you manage to reach Spencer. You stumble toward him, reaching out and clinging to his arm. He startles and turns to look at you. Immediately, concern rushes over his face and he takes your drink and passes it to Derek before gently grabbing your hand. As quickly as he’s able, Spencer guides you through the bar toward an exit, using his own body to force people aside and away from you despite his dislike of germs. 

He holds open the back door and you practically fall into the alley. The door closes and immediately the smells, lights, and sounds lessen. You sink to the ground, pressing your hands against your ears now that there is no one but Spencer to see you. You curl your knees to your chest and stare with wide eyes at the ground. Each breath you take is a rasping, heaving mess, and a distressed groan forces itself from your throat with each exhale.

You feel like you’re dying.

Spencer crouches down beside you, sitting with his legs crossed and leaning against the wall, and you immediately press your body into his. You curl your legs beneath you and lean awkwardly in a way that hunches your back and presses your forehead into his knee. You squeeze your eyes shut and you can feel the way your tears soak his pants.

Spencer drapes himself over your back, using his body to provide the grounding pressure he’s learned you need in times like this. He wraps his arms around you and squeezes tightly. You let out a broken sob and slam the heel of your palm into the side of your head.

“Hey, hey,” Spencer mutters, gently taking a hold of your wrist. 

You shake your head. You need to hit. You need it. And there’s no way to redirect.

Spencer releases your hand and you move it to thump it against your chest.

“Okay, that’s better than your head,” Spencer says to himself. He squeezes your body in intervals and the varying pressure helps ground you. Slowly your sobs lessen to sniffles and hiccuping breaths and the hand hitting your chest falls limp against Spencer’s leg. 

“You’re okay,” Spencer mutters, rubbing his hand up and down your arm. “You’re going to be alright.”

You sniffle and move your head to press it against his stomach. 

“Hi, sweetheart,” he says softly. You can hear the love and care in his voice. “You feeling a bit better?”

You hum and nod against him.

“Do you need some more time, or do you want to go home?” he asks, keeping his body pressing against yours in case you still need the pressure.

You tap his leg twice.

“Home?” he asks sweetly.

You nod, and Spencer sits back. The sudden lack of pressure makes your body feel weird, and part of you wants to drag him back down. You decide against it, knowing that you’ll get used to it quickly and that Spencer will hold you again when you get home.

Spencer carefully guides you to your feet and, keeping an arm wrapped around you, leads you out of the alley and down the street to his car. He opens the passenger side door and you climb in. 

“Will you be okay for a minute or two while I run back in to grab our stuff from JJ?” Spencer asks.

You nod and do your best to smile at him. Spencer smiles back and closes the door. He locks the car and jogs back toward the bar. 

You sigh and wrap your hands around your stomach. Guilt and embarrassment coil painfully in your chest. You can’t believe that just happened. You should have been fine. Why this time? Why the one time you didn’t bring your headphones? You groan in frustration. Why couldn’t you just be normal? And Spencer. You feel so guilty for dragging him away from the rest of the team and the fun he was having to deal with you.

There’s a soft click as the doors unlock, then Spencer opens the driver's side door and climbs inside. You keep your head bowed as he closes the door and reaches into the backseat to set down both of your stuff. 

You see him still out of the corner of your eye, and he rests his hand gently on your shoulder. “Hey, what’s going on?” he asks.

“I–I’m sorry,” you mutter weakly.

“For what, sweetheart?”

“For this! For everything!” you cry. “You–you were having fun and I ruined it! You shouldn’t have to deal with this!”

Spencer says your name softly and, when you don’t respond, he whispers, “Please look at me.”

You slowly raise your head, wiping away the tears streaming down your cheeks.

“You have nothing to be sorry for. I don’t care what it is I’m doing, if you’re upset or need help, I will always drop everything to be there for you. And it’s not ‘dealing with you’, baby. We’re partners. It’s our job to take care of each other. You can’t control when you get overstimulated or have a meltdown.”

“But I could have!” you insist. “I didn’t bring my headphones because I thought I’d be fine like every other time and then I wasn’t! It’s my fault I freaked out like this. I should be able to handle it.”

“There is no ‘should’. Having a meltdown will never be your fault. And I know you know that, because you would never think these things about me when I have a meltdown.”

Your jaw drops. “Of-of course not!” you stutter, taken aback.

“Then why is it different for you?” Spencer asks. “Why is your autism bad but mine isn’t?”

You open and close your mouth for a moment, unsure of what to say.

Spencer doesn’t speak.

“I–I don’t know,” you eventually admit.

“It’s because it isn’t bad. I understand why you might feel that way or why you feel guilty about making me deal with it, as you say. But I help you because I love you and care about you and because I want to. Just like you help me because you love and care about me and want you. And I will always choose to help you and be there for you, no matter what, no matter how ashamed you may feel. Okay?”

Your chin wobbles, and soon tears are streaming down your face as you let out a wailing sob.

Spencer leans over the armrest to hug you, neither of you caring about the awkward angle. 

You pull back and wipe at your eyes. “C-can we go home, now?” you ask weakly.

“Of course, sweetheart,” Spencer says kindly.

“And then cuddles?”

“Always.”

_____

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𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐚𝐥

♖ Spencer Reid x f!reader

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

— content warnings: semi-angst, mention of murder

— word count: 630

The crisp autumn air hung heavy over Quantico as Spencer Reid stood outside the familiar gates of the BAU headquarters. It had been months since he had left, seeking solace in books after a particularly harrowing case. Yet, the past always had a way of catching up, especially when it involved someone he once trusted with his life.

The call from his former boss, Emily Prentiss, had been unexpected yet urgent. Reid hesitated briefly before stepping through the doors, his mind racing with questions about the case and the person at its center: you, his former partner.

Inside, the bullpen buzzed with activity, but the tension was palpable. All eyes turned to Reid as he made his way to Prentiss' office. She greeted him with a mix of relief and apprehension, knowing how delicate the situation was.

"Spencer," she began, her voice low. "I know you've moved on, but we need your help. Y/N... she's involved in something terrible."

Reid's heart sank. You had been his confidant, his equal in profiling, and once, his closest friend. you guys had shared late nights poring over case files and stolen glances that spoke volumes. But now, you'd been wanted for the murder of three of their colleagues.

"I can't believe it," Reid murmured, his mind already racing through possibilities. "What do we know?"

Prentiss slid a file across her desk, photos and evidence neatly arranged. "The evidence points to her, Spencer. But we need your insight. There's more to this than meets the eye."

Reid flipped through the file, his analytical mind piecing together the puzzle. Memories of you flashed before him — your laughter, your dedication to justice, and the way you had pushed each other to be better profilers. Could you really have turned?

Days turned into nights as Reid poured over the details, his dedication to the case unwavering. Every clue, every profile pointed back to her, yet something nagged at him, a feeling he couldn't shake. The pieces didn't fit neatly, and Reid knew there was more at play than the surface suggested.

Then, a breakthrough came in the dead of night. Reid rushed to Prentiss' office, excitement and trepidation mingling in his voice. "I think I know where she'll strike next," he said, laying out his theory with the precision only he could muster.

Together, they set a trap, hoping against hope that you would show your hand. The hours ticked by, tension thick in the air until finally, you appeared. Y/N stood in the doorway, eyes meeting Reid's with a mix of sorrow and defiance.

"I didn't do it, Spencer," your voice whispered, voice cracking. "You have to believe me."

Reid hesitated, torn between his training and his heart. He saw the desperation in her eyes, the plea for understanding. Slowly, he nodded, trusting the instincts that had never steered him wrong.

As the truth unraveled, they uncovered a conspiracy that went deeper than anyone had imagined. You had been framed by someone within the bureau, a betrayal that shook Spencer to his core. In the aftermath, as your name was cleared of all charges, he found himself standing at your side once more. The weight of the shared ordeal hung between you both, but so did an unspoken hope for the future.

"I never stopped believing in you," Spencer admitted quietly, his gaze steady on yours.

You smiled softly, a flicker of something more in shown in your eyes. "Thank you for coming back, Spencer. For trusting me."

And in that moment, as the shadows of doubt gave way to the light of truth, Reid knew that some bonds couldn't be broken. Love, loyalty, and the pursuit of justice had brought you both full circle, stronger together than you had ever been apart.

copyright 2021 heizenka, all rights reserved. I do not allow my creations to be published of translated anywhere else so please do not repost.

𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞

♖ Spencer Reid x f!reader

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

— content warnings: usual criminal minds violence, murder, death

— word count: 1.5k

inspired by: loml by Taylor Swift

The BAU team had seen their fair share of gruesome crime scenes, but this one was particularly chilling. Y/N had been abducted three days ago, and now they found her body dumped in a remote warehouse on the outskirts of Quantico. Spencer Reid's heart sank as he approached the scene, his mind racing with a mix of dread and desperate hope.

Derek Morgan, his closest friend and confidant on the team, gripped Spencer's arm firmly as they neared the body. "Reid, stay focused," Derek murmured, his voice tinged with concern. "You can't go rushing in there. We have to assess the situation first."

Spencer nodded mechanically, his eyes fixed on Y/N's lifeless form lying amidst the cold concrete floor. Her face was pale, eyes closed as if in peaceful sleep, but the evidence of violence was stark—bruises on her wrists, a single gunshot wound to the chest. The scene was a tableau of horror, the silence broken only by the distant hum of police radios and the muffled voices of forensic technicians.

Hotch approached them with a grim expression. "We need to process the scene carefully," he stated, his tone clipped and professional. "Garcia is running the last known communications and surveillance footage. We might still catch a break."

Spencer nodded again, his mind racing with a flurry of thoughts and calculations. He was known for his intellect, his ability to piece together intricate patterns and profiles, but now all he could think about was Y/N—her smile, her laughter, the warmth of her presence that had become a constant anchor in his turbulent life.

Emily Prentiss, usually composed and stoic, placed a hand on Spencer's shoulder, her voice wavering soft with sympathy. "We're going to find who did this, Reid," she assured him, her own eyes betraying the weight of their collective grief. "And we'll make sure they pay for what they've done."

But Spencer was barely listening. His attention was fixed on Y/N, kneeling beside her as if in a trance. He reached out hesitantly, brushing a lock of hair away from her face. "No," he whispered, his voice cracking with emotion. "No, no, no. We can save her! We can save her! I can save her, please!"

Tears streamed down Spencer's face as he clutched Y/N's cold hand, his fingers trembling against her lifeless skin. The reality of her death crashed over him like a tidal wave, overwhelming and suffocating. He was supposed to be the one who solved puzzles, who found answers where others saw only chaos. But now, faced with the ultimate mystery—the senseless loss of someone he loved—he felt utterly helpless.

Derek knelt beside Spencer, pulling him gently away from Y/N's body. "Spence, she's gone," he said quietly, his voice filled with sorrow. "There's nothing more we can do here."

"No!" Spencer protested, his voice rising in desperation. "There has to be something! I can figure this out, I can find who did this!"

Hotch approached them, his expression grave. "Reid, we need you to focus," he said firmly. "We have a case to solve, and we need your mind clear."

But Spencer couldn't tear his gaze away from Y/N. Her face haunted him—her smile, the way her eyes lit up when she talked about a new book she was reading, the warmth of her touch. They had shared late-night conversations, quiet moments of understanding in the chaos of their work. She had become his anchor, his reason for hope amidst the darkness they faced every day.

As the hours passed and the investigation progressed, Spencer retreated into himself. He answered questions mechanically, analyzed evidence with detached precision, but his mind kept returning to Y/N. The images of her lifeless body flashed before him, tormenting him with their finality.

That night, back at the BAU headquarters, Spencer found himself standing alone in Y/N's empty office. Her desk was cluttered with books and case files, a half-finished cup of coffee still sitting beside her computer. The room felt achingly silent, a stark reminder of her absence.

Derek found Spencer there, staring blankly at Y/N's desk. He approached cautiously, knowing that words alone couldn't ease his friend's grief. "Reid," Derek began gently, "I know this is hard. But blaming yourself won't bring her back."

Spencer turned to him, his eyes hollow with pain. "I should have been faster," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "I should have figured it out sooner. Maybe... maybe she'd still be alive."

Derek shook his head, his own eyes filled with sorrow. "Spence, you did everything you could," he insisted, his voice firm yet compassionate. "No one blames you for this. We're a team, and we're going to find justice for her."

Spencer nodded silently, his throat tight with unshed tears. He knew Derek was right—that guilt was a burden he couldn't afford to carry. But the ache in his heart remained, a constant reminder of the life they had lost, of the future they would never share.

In the days that followed, the BAU worked tirelessly to track down Y/N's killer. Garcia sifted through mountains of data, and Emily coordinated with local law enforcement to canvas the area. But for Spencer, the investigation was more than just a case—it was a quest for closure, a way to honor Y/N's memory and the love they had shared.

As they pieced together the evidence, a pattern began to emerge. The unsub—a disturbed Jack Mconnell,  with a history of violence and obsession—had fixated on Y/N, seeing her as a symbol of everything he desired but could never possess. His delusions had driven him to commit unspeakable acts, until ultimately ending Y/N's life in a desperate bid to fulfill his twisted fantasies.

When the team finally identified the unsub and cornered him in a remote cabin, Spencer was among those who stormed in, his gun drawn and his heart pounding with a mix of rage and sorrow. The confrontation was brief but intense, ending with a single gunshot that brought Jack to justice. But for Spencer, the closure he sought remained elusive.

That night, standing alone on the balcony of his apartment, Spencer stared up at the stars. Their distant light seemed to mock him, reminding him of the vastness of the universe and the fragility of human life. He thought of Y/N—the way she had believed in him, the way she had made him feel seen and understood in ways he had never thought possible.

The tears finally came then, unchecked and unrestrained. He had always prided himself on his ability to analyze, to compartmentalize his emotions in the face of tragedy. But now, faced with the emptiness of Y/N's absence, he felt utterly and completely lost.

In the weeks and months that followed, Spencer struggled to find his footing. The BAU continued their work, chasing down new cases and unraveling the minds of criminals, but the team dynamics had shifted irreversibly. There was a void where Y/N had once been—a presence that had anchored them all, reminding them of the humanity they fought so hard to protect.

Garcia, ever perceptive and empathetic, made it her mission to check in on Spencer regularly. She brought him his favorite coffee, listened patiently as he rambled about obscure facts and theories, and offered quiet words of comfort when the weight of grief threatened to overwhelm him.

And Derek, unwavering in his support, stood by Spencer's side through it all. He didn't press for conversations or demand explanations. Instead, he simply remained present—a silent pillar of strength in Spencer's darkest moments.

One day, several months after Y/N's death, Spencer found himself standing at her grave. The sun was setting, casting a warm glow over the headstone engraved with her name. He placed a bouquet of flowers—a mix of lilies, her favorite—and knelt beside the grave, his fingers tracing the letters of her name.

"I miss you," Spencer whispered, his voice raw with emotion. "Every day, I miss you."

He stayed there until the last rays of sunlight faded from the sky, his heart heavy with the weight of his grief. But amidst the pain, there was a glimmer of something else—a determination to honor Y/N's memory, to carry her with him in everything he did.

And as he stood to leave, he made a silent vow to never forget—the love they had shared, the moments they had cherished, and the promise of a future that had been stolen away.

copyright 2021 heizenka, all rights reserved. I do not allow my creations to be published of translated anywhere else so please do not repost.

(❛) - request  (✿) - fluff  (✯) - angst 

spencer reid

redemption in betrayal - ✯,✿

you're wanted for three murders, and in order to catch you they call in dr. spencer reid. your former partner.

loss of my life - ✯

the team finds you after you'd been abducted by an unsub, but in every scenario spencer had imagined when they found you, this was the one that pulled the floor from beneath him.

derek morgan

coming soon

copyright 2021 heizenka, all rights reserved. I do not allow my creations to be published of translated anywhere else so please do not repost.