The Secrets We Keep [Spencer Reid x Reader 18+] || ✔️

Nothing To Say

TW: Violence, blood,

The sun dripped through the curtains, bathing the room in a soft, yellow light. You rolled over, your hand reaching out to search for your future husband. But instead of warmth, you were met with a cold, empty bed. You shot up from bed, checking the clock sitting on the nightstand. It read 7 am. You furrowed your brows confused; he had been falling in the habit of waking you up before he left. And it was Saturday, and you knew there wasn't a case. You may not be working, but you still got the texts.

Speaking of texts, Spencer hadn't sent you one. You unlocked your phone, pressing his contact and dialing his number. It went straight to voicemail. So, you tried him again. But, once more it went straight to voicemail.

You decide to shoot him a text, figuring he went for coffee, or went into the office to grab some files.

To SPENCIE: Hi, I don't know where you went but call me. Please. Love you.

You threw your phone on your bed, padding your way to your bathroom to get ready for your day. You brushed your teeth, putting on some light makeup and getting dressed in some black ripped jeans, and a sweatshirt.

You cuddled up on the couch, deciding to do some light reading till Spencer called you. It wasn't long before you heard the lock to your door turn and in came a very frazzled, panting Spencer Reid, blood dripping down his face.

You jumped up from your place on the couch, dropping the first edition you were reading.

"Spencer, what the fuck?" you reached out, grabbing his arms as you tried to get him to sit down so you could clean him up. "What happened to you?"

He was a mess to say the least. His shirt was wrinkled, like it had been grabbed, slightly untucked from his pants. One sleeve torn, while the other was half rolled. It only being held by the button it was latched too. His hair was spiking up in every which way, and a black eye and fat lip were already starting to form.

You rushed around the apartment, collecting all you would need to clean him up. Spencer was sitting on the couch when you came back. His face expressionless as you sat beside him. You started cleaning him up, just letting him sit in the quiet for a minute. Spencer didn't say anything until you swiped his cut with some alcohol, hissing at the sting.

"Sorry. I'm sorry." You whispered. "Spence, what happened?" You tried once more. He shook his head slightly.

"Job gone wrong." Was all he said, his eyes not meeting yours. You put two fingers under his chin, pulling his face to get him to look at you. His cold eyes met yours, causing you to audibly gasp.

"Richie?" He nodded. "Did you have to do something you didn't want too?" Again, he nodded. Your face softened, pulling him into a tight hug, squeezing him slightly. He didn't hug you back, his heart racing so much you could physically feel it as you pressed your chest to his.

Spencer finally caved, pulling you so you were straddling his lap, his hands resting on your waist. You pulled back, pushing his curls from his split brow, your fingers tracing over his face lightly. Spencer grabbed your hand, kissing you knuckles gently.

"Richie called me at 2am. Said he got some information about a hit that was organized on you and I." Your breath hitched in your throat, waiting for him to continue. "So, he sent some of his men to come watch over you while I was gone. I met up with him and we went to, uhm, take care of them. Shit got out of control and I..." He trailed off, but you didn't need him to continue to know what he was getting at. You leaned in, kissing him softly, being mindful of the cut on his lips.

"Why aren't you scared of me?" He asked after he pulled back, his voice barely above a whisper. "You should be terrified of me. You deserve better than this. You're so... good and I'm the definition of evil. I am what we dedicate our lives to stopping."

Your heart broke at his confession. If there was one thing you were certain about, it was that Spencer Reid was good.

"Spencer, you are not bad. There is nothing bad about you. You do what you have to in order to survive. That doesn't make you bad. I'm not afraid of you because I see who you are, who you really are. You're kind, selfless, strong. You put yourself last in every single way." You tried. But he wasn't having it.

"If I'm so good, then why do I get off on hurting you? I'm supposed to treat you delicately, touch you with kindness, and here I am, leaving bruises on your body." His fingers traced over the hickeys on your neck. "Then I leave you in the middle of the night and kill. I killed two people last night. They have families. They- they-"

You placed your hand over his mouth, stopping him from speaking anymore. "Stop it. Stop. I enjoy what you do to me. I ask for it. And I know you'd stop if I asked you too. I know that. You did what you had to do to protect me. That's the difference between you and the killers we hunt. Do you hear me? You are good Spencer Reid." Your voice wavered, tears welling up in your eyes.

Spencer had nothing to say. He just sat there in silence. And you let him. You leaned your head into his neck, arms folding between your chests. And you just stayed like that. Listening to each other's breathing, listening to each other's heartbeats. Just being present with one another.