Spencer Reid | Oneshots

To Have and To Hold ❤️‍🔥 (E)

Summary: Reader is trying to save her marriage, but Spencer seems resigned to its failure.

Rating: Explicit (18+ ONLY)

Content Warnings: Parents fighting, divorce/separation, yelling, penetrative sex, discussions of sex, very painful fighting, happy ending

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The sound of mine and Spencer's marital home was the sound of deafening silence. Even the clock on the wall didn't dare tick and break the tension that had seeped into the structure, permeating through the home to make it seem like not much of a home at all.

It hadn't always been like that. Once upon a time, it was filled with laughter, both our own and that of our first and only son. I still got to hear it, but Spencer didn't. Spencer didn't hear much, seeing as he was absent more often than not.

I stared at the place on the kitchen counter where a vase used to sit, and my stomach twisted into knots that felt permanent.

It wasn't always quiet, but lately that almost seemed like the more merciful way to be.

"It's like this every time!" I screamed loud enough to hurt my throat, the basket in my hand clattering onto the floor and spilling its contents across the floor.

I felt like that, too. Fragmented and scattered and helplessly lying at the bottom of something I wasn't equipped to climb out of.

"I don't know what you want from me."

Spencer, on the other hand, was quiet and composed in his anger. He always was. I wondered if he secretly held it against me that I couldn't be more like him. That I couldn't compartmentalize my feelings and speak logically in the face of the completely illogical.

"What is that even supposed to mean?"

"I can't be the person you want me to be," he answered just as vaguely, watching as my hands balled into fists and shook under the weight of it all.

"What, which part?" I said with a bitter laugh, gesturing to the cold, empty house around us. "Do you mean you can't be a father who's actually there?"

He tried to cut me off, but his voice was too small and too broken to be heard over the chaos of my rage. That, too, was pooling in my mouth and falling through the room too fast, too strong.

"That's not fair."

"Or do you mean a husband that actually likes his wife?" I spat. My heaving chest was the first time I realized that I hadn't taken a breath. The anger was literally suffocating me, and I didn't know how to expel it from my lungs without hurting everyone around me.

I couldn't breathe. I needed to breathe.

"Stop. Just stop," Spencer urged, his voice hard and loud now, albeit stable. "This isn't solving anything."

Taking a few steps forward to stand before him, I met his eyes for the few seconds he let me. I laughed as they fell to the ground, but it was the kind of laugh that's best reserved for things that are irreparably lost. The kind of laugh you have to stop yourself from crying.

"Tell me that I'm wrong then. Tell me that you don't resent me, Spencer."

The words were mixed with a whine. The answer had made its way out but was replaced with the heavy lead of sadness.

He didn't answer me.

"Tell me that you still want to be with me."

"I don't want to fight with you," he said softly before turning away.