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miistymemorii · 7 months

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I could not stop thinking about Lawrence going back for Adam so...

hey guys, I was really depressed last night and got really drunk and this is the result. I haven't sat down and written anything in A WHILE (and I wrote this at like 4 am) so please be gentle with any grammar mistakes lol. Thank you and enjoy xoxo

Lawrence Gordon’s body was on fire.

It had started in his leg, of course, the burning that comes when you tear away at your own flesh and bone with a rusty saw. That pain had been reduced to a nagging ebbing, however, the rest of his remaining limbs working in overdrive as he desperately dragged his body through the corridors of the hellscape he had been dragged into. Lawrence swore he could hear the blood rushing through his own veins, his head throbbing, adrenaline surging through his entire body. He could still hear the sound of Adam screaming, which only fueled his desire for escape. THe sounds, the rancid smells, the decrepit surroundings, everything equated to an environment that he wanted to get the Hell out of. His arms and remaining leg helped him scuttle along, and he tried to push any feelings of exhaustion to the back of his head. He had only one priority, based on a promise he was determined to keep.

“I will come back for you.”

Lawrence was far from an honest man, something he had been forced to come to terms with while he was in his game. He had lied to Allison, lied to Diana, lied to almost everyone in his life, but he wanted to be cleansed of his lies. He was determined to be a new man, a “reborn” man, one that kept his promises, especially to those he loved. He had wasted his life in a sea of insincerity and guilt, but he was damned if he was going to let a serial killer decide his fate. He knew he wasn’t a good man.

“I can do this one thing right”, he kept telling himself, clenching his jaw as he continued his aimless crawling. If he could do this one thing, keep his promise and save Adam, he could prove to himself that he had, as twisted as John Kramer’s methods were, learned something. It didn’t matter that he had met the man today, he had made a promise, and good men kept their promises.

The corridor was coming to an end, and Lawrence lifted his head up, squinting through the low lighting to see that there was a door at the end. His lungs felt like they would explode, his remaining limbs threatening to give out, but he let out a low groan before continuing on. The door was a gamble, because Lawrence knew exactly how much more travel his body could handle before it ultimately gave out, trapping him in this sick prison forever. His promise gave him strength, however, as he swung his arm up at the door, latching onto the handle with a tight fist and pulling himself up as much as he could, leaning his weight on the door and flinging it open. His body instantly fell back down, much to Lawrence’s dismay, but a familiar sound gave him instant relief.

When he stumbled through that door, his eyes had instinctively closed as he braced himself to lose his balance, so rather than seeing the outside, he heard it. He didn’t know where he was, but wherever it was, a large truck drove by, honking his horn. It didn’t matter if that truck driver didn’t see Lawrence, because when he opened his eyes and saw the night sky above him, he almost began to cry.

He was out.

Lawrence was desperately trying to catch his breath, but he knew time was of the essence. His eyes scanned the street, desperate for a passerby to make contact with. He could hear a sound in the distance, a rythmic thumping sound that he concluded was a jogger. He took a moment to really listen, coming to the conclusion that the sound was getting closer. As he laid there at the exit of the building, the pain in his leg began to come back, a nagging reminder that he was losing blood, but that wasn’t his priority. Lawrence cleared his throat, which was a painful act in itself, but when that jogger rounded the corner of the building across the street, officially in Lawrence’s view, he used the last of his strength to call out to them. Of course,a stranger writhing and calling out in the middle of the night was a terrifying concept, but he prayed that the bystander would take pity on him, or see his condition, and help him.

Lawrence Gordon was a lucky bastard.

The jogger was a kind woman named Sara, who assessed Lawrence’s decrepit state and saw that he meant no harm but was harmed, and quickly made her way over to him. He croaked out praises and thanks to her as she quickly dialed 911, hooking her arm under his shoulder to drag him away. Lawrence could feel reality slipping away at this point, his eyes growing tired as he staved off unconsciousness. The last thing he saw was police lights before he succumbed to the loss of blood, passing out in his stranger-savior’s arms.

Lawrence had been outside, but it had been dark, so when he woke up to bright lights, he was something beyond disoriented. His eyes opened, then immediately shut, a headache already beginning to settle in. He tried to focus on the sounds, and let out a small sigh when he heard the familiar sounds of the hospital. It took him a few moments, but he eventually managed to open his eyes and keep them open. Allison and Diana were at his side, and he burst into tears at the reminder that he was safe. Diana provided a warmer presence than Allison, but Lawrence understood, and was ready to beg for his wife’s forgiveness.

Diana called him a hero, which Lawrence questioned, causing Diana to point over to the bed next to Lawrence’s. In the bed lay Adam, his face pale and his body rigid, but Lawrence could tell from Adam’s vitals monitor that he was, in fact, alive. He had fulfilled his promise.

Eventually, Allison pulled Diana away, allowing for a quick goodbye before stating that she needed to be put to bed. Lawrence reached out for his wife, but she turned away from him, prompting him to think, “Fair”, as he had had plenty of time to reconsider his marriage and all the pain he had caused his wife while in the trap. He was alone in the room, well, with Adam, who had still been asleep after several hours. Doctors checked on Lawrence, and Adam, but it seemed that the younger man was knocked out. Lawrence couldn’t help but continuously glance over at him, afraid that if he stopped monitoring him, Adam wouldn’t even be in that bed next to him, the idea that his own rescue might be some sick nightmare plaguing Lawrence’s mind. Lawrence fell asleep, but only for a few hours before he was violently snapped back to reality after a nightmare in which he hadn’t escaped. In his nightmare, he was still wandering through endless halls, blood slowly leaving his body as Adam’s screams played over and over in his head.

Lawrence’s eyes snapped open, his chest heaving and his throat raw again from crying out in his sleep. His heart racing, he turned his head to Adam, who, to Lawrence’s surprise, was now awake. Adam’s face was visibly tired, but when he made eye contact with Lawrence, his face twitched into something close to a smile, the best he could give under the circumstances.

“You look like shit.”

Lawrence let out a small laugh, something that he thought he could never do again. “I was about to say the same thing about you,” Lawrence shot back hoarsely.

Adam looked away, scanning as much as the hallway as he could see through the room’s windows. “How much do you wanna bet I could get a nurse to bum me a smoke?” It was a joke, but Lawrence could tell by how quiet Adam’s usually boisterous voice was that it was a half-assed attempt at denying the severity of the situation they were in.

“Well, as someone who works in a hospital, I can safely say that most nurses don’t encourage smoking.” Lawrence pointed out. There was an odd sense of pain settling in his chest, a bit hurt that Adam wouldn’t look him in the eyes.

Adam sighed, turning his head only slightly in Lawrence’s direction. His eyes were darting around the room, fixating on random items. Lawrence remembered this behavior from when they were stuck in the bathroom, coming to the conclusion that Adam was still in a state of nervousness. Lawrence felt another pang of pain in his chest; did Adam still not trust him?

“How did you get out?”

Lawrence sighed. “I crawled like Hell until I found a door. There was a jogger and she called the cops, that’s all I remember.”

Adam was quiet for a moment, before he finally turned his head to look at Lawrence. The two held a gaze for a moment, before Adam let out an almost silent, “thank you”. When Lawrence smiled at him and opened his mouth to speak, Adam looked away once again, causing Lawrence’s thoughts, and heartbeat, to falter. The two men let a silence hang over them, the events of the past few hours really starting to settle in.

“I don’t want us to forget each other.” Adam said quietly, his eyes still refusing to meet Lawrence’s.

Of course, Lawrence didn’t want that either. He understood that people who share traumatic events often find solace in each other, and thought he had Allison and Diana, who had both gone through a traumatic experience that night, he knew that the bond he and Adam now shared was special. Lawrence knew there was something about Adam that had struck Lawrence so deeply that it had fueled him to survive, for once, for someone besides himself.

Lawrence cleared his throat before replying, “I don’t think I will ever forget you, Adam.”

Adam turned his gaze back to Lawrence, cracking a small smile. “Do ya promise?”

Again, Lawrence let out a small laugh, a feeling close to joy filling him that only Adam could provide in this situation, because for the rest of his life, he knew that Adam would be the only person to understand the pain he was feeling.

“I promise.”

#saw franchise #saw 2004 #saw movies #saw #lawrence gordon #dr lawrence gordon #adam faulkner stanheight #adam stanheight #fanfiction #one-shot #ficlet #angst #chainshipping

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cswritesbooks · 1 month

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GREENLIGHT. GATEKEEP. GHOSTHUNT.

The sequel to fantasy mystery The Undetectables (about three witches and a ghost in a cat costume who start a PI agency to stop a serial killer stalking their small magical town) lands this September and it’s 25% off in the Barnes and Noble preorder sale with code PREORDER25 from today until April 19th!

Here’s the official blurb:

Five months after the events of The Undetectables, business is booming – but finding cases that call for magical forensic investigators is not. So when Diana’s ex, Taylor, asks them to solve a murder – her own – Diana, Mallory and Cornelia can’t say no.

Called to investigate the set of Undead Complex, Diana re-enters the world of TV-show prop making – even in death, the show must go on. Even the appearance of a genuine-article Francine Leon dollhouse can't make up for the fact she's being pulled down a path of crime-solving she maybe doesn't want to walk forever.

Meanwhile, Theodore's coming apart at the seams – literally – in the aftermath of their last case, and Mallory is running out of ways to help him. Especially as he seems to be keeping secrets from her.

As the clues – and the bodies – keep piling up, each one making less and less sense, The Undetectables find themselves in a new race against the clock to find out what, exactly, the killer is up to – before they strike again...

Get your copy HERE

#The Undetectables #the undead complex #titan books #fantasy mystery #sapphic books #be gay solve crimes #queer writers #fantasy crime #fantasy #urban fantasy #murder mystery #Courtney Smyth #bookblr #bookworm #barnes and noble

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howlingday · 1 year

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Just saw the Justice League x RWBY movie, and I gotta say I personally kinda liked it quite a bit.

Did make me pause when I thought about how different their goals are in stopping villains though.

Like when the big bad *spoilers* Kilgore *spoilers* was finally defeated in the end, the first thing 15-year old Ruby wanted to do was see if he was actually DEAD.

Kinda made me realize that while the Beacon students are taught to straight up kill a threat (whether Grimm or human/faunus) the Justice League is more about neutralizing them (mostly) regardless of power level.

Tyrian attacking Uncle Qrow? Ruby cuts off one of his limbs! Adam hunting Blake and Yang? Slice that creep up! Cinder toppled Beacon? That B&$%H Needs To DIE!

On the other hand...

Cheetah gonna kidnap kids? Gotta knock her out! Luthor shooting missiles at the moon? Put that fella in prison! Mad Hatter kidnapping children? Save the hostages and neutralize the threat!

I mean it's NOT a bad thing, but it makes me wonder how comfortable the Justice League would feel about having these teenagers "assisting". And ditto for the Hunters/Huntresses having the Justice League's "help".

What do you think?

SPOLIERS! ...is what I would scream if I actually cared.

But you definitely bring up a good point, but I feel like I should clarify certain aspects.

Now, I haven't seen RWBY/Justice League yet, but I do know a thing or two about two separate franchises.

Regarding the RWBY moments, you have to remember that RWBY is a... less civilized world compared to the DC universe. Aside from the Grimm, you have gangsters, serial killers, and terrorists running around trying to kill for one reason or another, but it's always selfish reasons. So having RWBY kill off their villains makes sense because it makes sense regarding the villains being killed.

Tyrian was a crazy guy who attacked them and potentially killed Uncle Qrow. Ruby saw an opportunity to neutralize Tyrian, who was disracted by Qrow, and took it. Her only failure there was not taking off his head, but removing his poison stinger was a good choice nonetheless.

Adam was on a homicidal rampage and was making lethal attempts at both Blake and Yang. The fact he did this while Blake's guard was down is proof he had to be put down now, or else he would keep attacking later. Also, if you rewatch what happened, Blake was shaking at the fact she just killed Adam. She was shaking because she just took a life up close and personal. The life of someone she knew. In more layman's terms, Kitty Got Trauma.

Cinder is responsible for the Fall of Beacon. She killed Pyrrha. She attacked at Haven and Atlas, and she won't stop until she gets what she wants. So yes, I would agree THAT GOD DAMN BITCH NEEDS TO DIE!

Also, as an added point, look at what happens when you lock up criminals in RWBY. They get out. They escape. Because justice. Doesn't. Work. In. Remnant. The only way to make sure the serial killers and terrorists and monsters stop is to exterminate them. End them. Permanently. And that's what these kids are taught! Compared to the other schools, from what we've seen, Beacon focuses more on the Grimm than on the other dangers of Remnant. The only defense they have is understanding from Dr. Oobleck's history class. So what happens when you pit a huntsman against the soldier? The gangster? The survivor?

So yes, Remnant is less civil than DC Earth, where the other half of our other heroes are located. In this universe, by contrast, our heroes are raised with compassion, humility, and good values for a society.

Cheetah is a tricky foe for Wonder Woman because she is Diana's best friend cursed to be transformed. There's a comic where she's struggling against Cheetah because with all of Diana's lethal moves and Cheetah's lethal intent, she knows her friend is still in there, trapped inside and crying out. When you put her against an opponent she doesn't feel all that close to, say, Maxwell Lord, who was mind controlling Superman, then yeah, she's gonna snap his neck about thirty times to be sure. It should be noted that Diana is also the kind of hero who would lead an uprising in which she aided slave women to murder their captors. So yeah, Wonder Woman will kill, but not someone she cares about.

The trouble with Lex Luthor and Superman is the classic case of Lawful Good against Lawful Evil. Lex Luthor is a public figure, and often a beloved one at that. With a sway of his silver tongue, Superman is the alien invader sent to conquer Earth, which is in a universe filled with invasive alien conquerors, while Lex freaking god damn mother friggin "Steal-Forty-Cakes, Blows-Up-Cities, Cures-Cancer-Then-Gives-Worse-Cancer" Luthor is a damn saint who donates to charities and pursues scientific breakthroughs for the benefit of humanity. If Superman decided to give him that good ol Injustice high five, who do you think will look like the bad guy? Not to mention, Clark was raised better than that by Ma and Pa. Could Kal-El have been a conqueror? If given the right circumstances and the wrong parents, sure. But that's not what happened. Clark Kent grew up learning and knowing better so that he can be just like his heroes; the most loving humans on the planet.

And of course, we come to the center of this shrubbery maze that we all have to talk about. "Everything would be so much better if Batman just killed his enemies." Ugh, I am so sick of making the arguement against this because I don't like conflict, and everyone fails to understand the fucking nuance that is Batman's fucking humanity. I am literally AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!.

So, yes, Batman's enemies are most notably the criminally insane, but they are not the only threat to Gotham. You also have the Court of Owls, Gotham's 1% hunting civilians for sport, and city officials who literally want to toss the homeless into Gotham's furnace to keep themselves warm, and then you have the League of Assassins, eco-terrorists who want to blow up Gotham because it's a literal crime cancer on the planet. But do you know what Batman is in all of this? He's humanity. He's hope. He's the one-man-army fighting to protect his city that doesn't deserve to be saved because it's his home. It's his one sign of proof that his parents didn't die in vain trying to save this city. Would things be easier, or better, if Batman decided to kill? Maybe. But would he still be Batman?

Oh, and before anyone say, "Bud dah Jokah!" Joker literally has a failsafe where if he dies, someone else becomes the Joker, so don't even try.

---------------------------------------------------

There. That's all of the examples.

Now, as for your questions at the end about asking teenagers, I'll state the obvious, Teen Titans, Young Justice, Bllah, Blah, Blah...

But those kids were brought on for two reasons. 1, to help them cope with their traumas (Dick Grayson's parent's murder and Connor Kent coping with his cloned identity) and 2, to train them to be the next superhero team. So yes, I think RWBY being brought on for training would be good to help them all cope with their traumas and train them to have a little more humanity.

Think of it like adopting stray, feral cats. They're more destructive than your usual domesticated pets, but after enough time, patience, discipline, and love, they become a faithful companion. (NOTE: PLEASE DO NOT ATTEMPT TO ADOPT WILD ANIMALS! THEY ARE NOT YOUR FRIENDS!)

So, yeah, I think the team up would be great. And as for the question,

"Should heroes be allowed to kill?"

Only as a last, reasonable resort.

#rwby #rwby spoliers #rwby/justice league #my thoughts #my answers #wonder woman #superman #batman #but seriously fuck you if you think batman would be better if he killed you don't understand batman what the fuck is wrong with you AAAARGH

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pennyserenade · 9 months

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i was getting ready earlier and rocket man by elton john came on and i couldn't help but think about how much the lyrics are fox mulder coded. like:

I miss the Earth so much I miss my wife It's lonely out in space On such a timeless flight

mulder is rocket man, lonely out in space, his timeless flight being samantha, the pursuit of the aliens, the restless and oftentimes futile attempts at finding truth in the bundles of lies. he does miss earth and even his wife too (remember that gold wedding band and diana; how she left him there all alone). he misses being normal, feeling normal, but this is it, this is what he was made for. earth is a long ways behind him now.

And I think it's gonna be a long, long time 'Til touchdown brings me 'round again to find I'm not the man they think I am at home Oh, no, no, no I'm a rocket man Rocket man, burning out his fuse up here alone

this mission has made mulder irrevocably changed, no longer the man they think he is or the one they think he could be. everyone wishes he would be different. the fbi brings scully to him in hopes to discourage his pursuit of the truth, to bring him back to sensible work where his talents brought home missing children and stopped ruthless serial killers. they think of him as their boy genius: the guy with the beautiful mind, oxford's best pupil, and they see what he does with the x-files as a disservice to himself and the public. its a mockery of his talents. mulder's gone crazy in the basement, is what they surmise. but samantha is out there, and he knows it (though a quiet part of him is scared that she isn't). after he finds her - and he will find her - he will not be who he was. how can he be? the boy genius has clocked out and now he's burning out his fuse, chasing his aliens with a head always aimed up at the stars

Mars ain't the kind of place to raise your kids In fact it's cold as hell And there's no one there to raise them If you did

mars is cold as hell, no place for a child. think of conduit, the way mulder protects and wraps himself around that little boy with the missing sister. how he cries after it is over and she comes home and won't tell the public what happened to her. a faithless man in a pew, visible tears streaming down his face. that little boy got what he never did: a sister who came back and a mother who was kind enough to shield them with her love. mulder grew up alongside a ghost named samantha and two parents who forgot they still had another child. mars was so cold, lonely, no place for any child. he talks to children with tender tones, hopes against hope for their survival, for them to not to ever have to experience what he has. he knows about mars, knows how it feels to grow up there. he does his best to save them from it the way no one did for him

#x-files analysis #fox mulder #x files

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snowflakewrites1381 · 1 year

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CHAPTER - 6

The Chaos

The next day...

"Bloody Wierdo" August murmured to himself, While gazing at the ceiling. He couldn't able to sleep properly, his mind is filled with the murders and victim's bloody bodies, all he have to do is catch the serial killer, who is the reason behind of all this scenes...

After some time...

A loud thunders are happening outside of the August house, the weather is quite dark and the flashes are illuminating like a sparkles. August is living at the corner of the town, where no one can locate his home. August came outside of his house, it's very cold outside.

AUGUST WALKER P.O.V

I saw a bear figure at the backside of the tree, I approached to that side. I can barely see what is in the hands of that figure. So I became very protective for myself and questioned that thing.

"Hello?"

No response.

"Hello, is anyone there?" I questioned again.

Still No response.

When I about to turn, I got hurt by the hammer on the face, I groaned and immediately took the pistol and started to shoot at the knee or arms of that figure. But, I am unable to concentrate. Then sudden flashes of victim bodies are wandering in my mind and then I became angry and unbreakable and started to punch him with my hard fists.

That figure fell down and I took this opportunity and started to unfold his face mask, but that figure stopped and stabbed me with the knife in my chest.

"ARGH!!!" I yelled and shot him in the knees.

"UGH!!UGH!!! FUCK!!!" the figure groaned.

As soon as the voice came from that figure, it was a male voice. I stumbled myself and unwrapped the face mask.

"HAHAH! YEYY! AUGUST!!! MY DEAR AUGUST WALKER. SON OF JONATHAN WALKER AND DIANA WALKER" man said.

"This is not the correct time to start the conversation, my dear CRIMSON PARKER?" I whispered.

"How do you know my name?" parker surprised.

"Well, that is not the point"

"IT IS!" parker yelled.

"I know, how to shut your dirty mouth" and THEN DISHOOM..... I punched him on his face.

"HELP ME!!!! HELP ME!!!" I heard parker voice from the cellar. I tied his hands ,legs and kept him in the dark cellar, where there is no proper ventilation.

"Why you are yelling? Shall i feed you with my punches and beatings?HUH?"

"YEAH, PLEASE!!!"

"You fucking bastard! Why? Why you are doing this? What is that supposed to mean? TELL EVERYTHING or else I am gonna rip out of each and every organ from your body and I won't even let you die, you will be laying as a lifeless human and you will be praying to the god, to take your life, instead of this torture!" I whispered to him.

"OH! IS IT? Will you say this to your daughter, MISS WALKER? RIGHT??"

Thank you for reading....

To be continued...

#actors #chris evans #henry cavill #ana de armas #gal gadot #august walker #lloyd hansen #gisele yashar #laila #fan fiction #thriller novel #cbi #raw

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m5ria · 11 months

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Chapter 22: The Water

I need to know more. About everything.

I feel as insignificant as an ant in this world. I don’t understand how it goes, why it goes, why I ended up here and what’s my purpose. The only thing that keeps me moving forward is my goal of staying hidden for as long as I need to.

Fortunately for me, yesterday’s events didn’t highlight me in the eyes of Hell. Being so bad at acting and also camouflaged in that pastel attire, I doubt anyone would take notice of me, let alone link the nobody sinner who was stupid enough to threaten an Overlord and the sweet Ophelia.

Speaking of Ophelia, as soon as my acting services weren’t requested anymore, I sought out Alastor. It took me a while, as I began searching backstage when he was waiting outside the auditorium.

One look at him wasn’t enough to determine whether I passed or not. He’s always so happy and all; you can’t know for sure if he’s relishing something enjoyable or something monstrous. When I overcame my pride and asked him “How was it?”, his smile grew viciously, and said:

“I must say, I’ve never anticipated how much I’d enjoy such poor acting. And Mimzy seems quite satisfied with the play. So, well done!”

“Yeah, yeah,” I discarded his words. “So, is it done?”

I dreaded assuming the best of his words, but he simply nodded and confirms:

“Yes, my little wolf. Consider me entertained!”

“Ok,” I gritted my teeth. “Then, I can ask my question.”

He looked at me with no surprise: “Go ahead.”

I’ve thought about my questions so hard. What would be useful for me to know about him? What would be valuable to me as leverage, information, or anything else? But, seeing how I died so recently ... It left me with one query for him:

“How did you die?”

His smile stayed the same. No troubled eyes. No sign of surprise.

“I died while I was hiding some of my most recent victims,” he confessed. “I was burying them in a forest when some dogs smelled the blood. Before I knew it, the dogs’ master mistook me for a deer and shot me dead.”

Since then, I’ve pondered on his response. He said, victims. Plural. So, he was a serial killer. That explains his natural inclination towards violence. That explains his place here.

He also said he was mistaken for a deer. That also explains the deer's appearance. Somehow. Yet, I wasn’t killed by a wolf. I wish I was.

Then, the last thing, I guessed he was shot in the head. Where the X appears whenever he chooses to use the tentacles. It must have been quite annoying. To know you were dead by mistake. Yet, he left the Earth as a better place.

In my bed, I turn to my side and slide my hand on my back. I feel my scars, but I lift my fingers to where I know my X is. A little lower than the middle of my shoulder blades. I rarely get to see it, as it turns out to appear when I am bloodthirsty. For different demons, the X is different. For Vaggie, it appears to be part of her appearance. For Alastor is part of his powers. For me?

It’s part of my emotions.

Besides my tail, it’s the only other feature that betrays my appearance.

I get up and dress. Today is a hunting day. Regardless of any dangers out there.

☽

The two squirrels reserved for the hotel swing on my arm when I push the kitchen door. The wonderful smell of baking makes my stomach growl.

“No, Niffty,” Charlie stops her by grabbing her hand. “That’s not for cleaning! It’s a pie brush!”

“Oh!” she looks at it and marveled. “I thought it was a small broom! You know, for small places! Like behind a toilet! Or between...”

“Hi, Diana!” Charlie greets me. She helps me with the squirrels, as usual when she’s in the kitchen. “How was your day today?”

“It was productive!” I smile at her.

“Mine was too!” Nifty comes in. “I cleaned your room, Diana, and it took me only five minutes! You have a nice, organized room! It gives me pleasure cleaning your room!”

“Thank you, Nifty,” I smile at the little demoness.

I smell the faint odor of baking. I glance at Charlie and ask her: “What are you cooking today?”

“Oh, just my family’s traditional apple pie...” she grabs sugar from a cupboard. “I’ve cooked it before, but never here, for all of you to serve.”

“I’m sure it’ll taste great,” I encourage her.

Now that Charlie’s here...

“Hey, Charlie. Uhm, are there any, uhm, I don’t know, small lakes or ponds or something like that in the area?”

“To fish?” she asks, confused, glancing at my squirrels. “Or to...”

“Just swimming,” I put on an honest smile.

“Oh! Of course! Yeah, the hotel has a swimming pool!”

“Really?” I open my eyes wide.

“Yes! It's usually very crowded, but today Niffty closed it for cleaning.”

“Yes, indeedy!” Niffty nods enthusiastically. “I’ve just cleaned the pool! It’s spotless! The water is fresh, the...”

“Well done, Niffty!” Charlie pats her on her head. “Is there any chance Diana can use it?”

“Normally, I would tear anyone who messes with my perfectly neat work!” she stares at Charlie darkly. Then, she smiles cheerfully, and her whole vibe changes: “But Diana is very, very clean! Have I told you how much I enjoyed....?”

“I believe you did, Niffty,” Charlie interrupts her. “Can you show Diana the way?”

Niffty grabs my hand with sheer power and drives me through the dining room, where Vaggie reads a magazine, and then to the staircase.

Despite myself, I smirk smugly. I already knew the hotel had a pool due to my exploration. I know the way. Still, I let the crazy hotel housekeeper drag me like a puppet.

We climb up only one floor and then she opens a door at the end of the corridor.

“Have fun!” she wishes me.

“Wait! I...”

She left.

“Don’t have any... Swimwear....”

I turn around to see the big red enclosure with a big window that shows the sky. The window is the shape of an eye that reflects in the pool, which adopts the same red color.

“Alright then.”

I go to the changing rooms and undress myself of most of my clothes except underwear and the T-shirt.

I slowly dive into the warm water and let myself float. The red sky above my head is a beauty, but it doesn't compare to the Earth's night or blue sky.

Focus. There’s a reason why you’ve come here.

Maybe my death memory was triggered by water. In all my Hell’s months, I’ve fallen and fallen from trees with no flashbacks. So, by omission, it must be the water.

I inhale hard and then let myself sink. All around me is a foggy red. Nothing familiar. Nothing that could trigger some lost memories.

I’ve come here not to see, but to hear. I need to know what Cedric told me before he pushed me. He was at first happy to see me, or he pretended to be. Then, I might have said something that annoyed him, which is not surprising at all. Regardless, was it something truly that aggravating to kill me? The Cedric I knew was led by reason, not by emotions.

And that was one of the reasons why I ran away.

He was my family’s closest neighbor’s son. Our mansion was pretty isolated, but it had a nearby village. We didn’t interact much with it, as my father considered himself too rich or something like that. But there was a boy who passed by our mansion on his way to his shepherd duties. I used to watch him through my bedroom window.

He was very curious about our mansion, our family. So, one day, when I was fourteen years old, I was reading in the shadow of an apple tree when he whistled at me. I was shocked at first to see a stranger outside my father’s parties, so I walked to him. From that day, he came every week and we talked. I was so pleased to have a friend.

He told me things about the outside world. I told him things about my family. And, after a while, I fell in love with him. As it turned out, he fell in love with me too.

At sixteen years old, I would sneak him into the dark part of our garden and then got a little more confident and sneak him into the house. He was amazed by everything inside it, from the cutlery and old clock to the tapestry and carpets.

One day, my father caught us and he chased him away and punished me. It didn’t stop me from seeing him, and, as it happened, neither did he. He went over his head to prove his worth to my father. And he would always ignore his attempts.

Until one time. A week before I left forever, my father invited him to dinner. I stayed quiet while they would discuss things like old gentlemen. Then, my father required a private word with him. I couldn’t hear anything being said, but I know that was the moment everything changed. Because, five days later, I saw my boyfriend standing over a dead man.

“Now,” Cedric offered his hand to me, “we can be together. Forever.”

That night, I realized that my father corrupted him. That he sought I control not only my life but the others around me. That I hadn’t anything of mine, only his.

So, two nights later, I packed lightly and sneaked out.

The lack of air made me urgently seek the pool surface. No success. Nothing to tell me how he found me.

I sigh frustrated and splash some water.

☽

Vaggie's POV:

Nothing new in this magazine issue.

I sigh angrily at our tiny hotel ad. I specifically ordered at least half a page and paid twice! Now, the ad is eclipsed by the Fizzarolli and Friends one. As I read through it, the only thing that attracts my attention is Mimzy’s unusual choice of play yesterday.

I roll the magazine frustrated and start tapping it on the table. Maybe I can help Charlie in the kitchen. I saw Niffty leaving her with Diana.

But I don’t reach the kitchen door before Angel storms into the dining room.

“Where have you been?” I ask him, irritated.

“Geez...” he rolls his eyes, reaching for a banana in the fruit bowl. “I didn’t know I was under surveillance!”

“After your stupid tantrum in that stupid graveyard, I have every right to do so!”

“How d’you know about that?” he sighs, annoyed. “Gee, you know everything that crawls in here!”

“It was pretty hard to miss,” I grit my teeth. “It was like a fucking 4th of July fireworks display!”

“Give me a break!” he points the banana to me. “It wasn’t even that crazy! And it didn’t even last!”

“Yeah, right!” I snort. “As if I’ll believe you!”

“Believe whatcha want!” he rolls his eyes and goes for the door.

“I’m not done with you!” I shout at him.

“I’m done with you!” he walks out.

I follow him through the heavy doors. He aims for the bar. I walk in his way and stop him.

“Can you stop doing crazy shit?” I demand of him. “We’re already on the radar, as you may remember!”

“I am the one doing crazy shit?” he gestures with his hands, offended. “What about Sir Penny’s taking-the-world bullshit?? Or...”

“I don’t fucking care! You’re our first fucking patient! I’m not gonna let you keep sabotaging the hotel’s image just for your perverted desires!”

“Blowing useless tombstones is a perverted desire?” he pretends to think about it, and then he shrugs. “At least ya ain’t slut-shaming.”

“You’re grounded!” I yell.

He stares at me for a couple of seconds before he laughs heartily: “Again? Come on, I thought ya’d come with an original this time!”

“No more going outside!” I press on, ignoring him.

“Charlie asked me to do a photo shoot for the hotel,” he mentions.

I stay silent, trying to calm myself, before I say: “You help Charlie, and then no more going outside!”

“Are ya keepin’ me locked in?” he walks past me. “Am I in prison now? Is the hotel a prison now?”

“Until you learn how to behave like an adult instead of an ADHD sex maniac!”

“I don’t s’pose it’d be da same treatment for Elsa,” he turns around. “Ya actually like what she brings every day in da kitchen. And ya don’t like men.”

“This has nothing to do...” I start arguing, but then I understand: “Wait! Diana? Did you drag her into this??”

“I assure ya she came of her free will!” he sounds offended. “She even brought us to a fancy play later, even if it was kinda boring. At least my films have more action if you know what I mean...”

I ignore his implication.

“Do you mean that Diana acted in Mimzy’s play?”

“That’s what I told ya, yeah,” he shrugs.

“Since when is she an actress?” I ask him, unbelieving. I don’t know too much about her, which only unsettles me more, but I definitely know she’s not an attention seeker like the majority of losers here. “And why the fuck would she expose herself like this, when she’s being searched?”

“At least she disguised herself,” Angel reaches for the forgotten rolled magazine in my hand. He opens it and then he shows me the image there. There are some demons, but I don’t recognize any of them besides Mimzy.

“You sure you didn’t fuck up your vision with your stupid bomb obsession?”

“Fuck you, Vags! She’s the blonde one, you fucking clueless bitch!”

I growl at him and narrow my eyes at the picture. The only thing that the blonde character and Diana have in common is the wolf-like nose and the color of the skin. She hid her ears and tail.

It doesn’t explain why the fuck would she get on that stage in the first place.

“What the fuck is in that head of hers??” I mutter.

“I dunno,” Angel reaches for the bar counter. “I guess she’s got a hero complex, tryna help everyone she sees. Mimzy needed an actress, so Al brought her.”

“Why in Hell would Alastor bring her?”

“How would I know?! I’m not a vintage cannibalistic virgin!”

And with that, he rings the bell. In a matter of seconds, Husk appears, annoyed as always to see Angel.

I don’t have the energy to run in a loop with him anymore. Not when I’ve got more vexing issues.

It's weird. Not too long ago, Diana was a nobody and, seemingly, she liked it that way. Now, she attracts interest from all kinds of sinister demons: the Vees, and now Mimzy and Alastor! It won’t end up well for her.

Yet, the problem here is how much of her troubles will affect the hotel as a whole. I can’t let any sinner sabotage Charlie’s dream. And something tells me there’s something odd going on with that quiet sinner.

If I go to Charlie and express my concern, she won’t take it seriously enough. After all, I don’t have any proof of my own. And Charlie seems to really like her, for some unknown reason.

I need to keep an eye out for her. Find out more about her intentions. And, if she has malicious intents, stop her.

Next Chapter

Previous Chapter

Masterlist

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tobias-hankel · 2 years

Note

Diana finds out abt the Dilaudid, maybe when she’s living with Spencer, maybe after it happened, and they have a heartfelt talk.

TW Drugs/Drug use mentioned - wc 745

Spencer liked to think that he told his mom everything, and he did – except when it came to his job. Diana didn’t like hearing about the scary things he had to face on an almost daily basis. The serial killers, rapists, stand-offs with unsubs, and most importantly, anytime he got hurt. She cared, of course, it just upset her, so Spencer decided to just not tell her.

So when Spencer was kidnapped by Tobias Hankel, the team knew not to tell Spencer’s mom, and Spencer didn’t either. He talked and wrote less to his mom over the following months as Spencer battled with the drug addiction and PTSD that came with his kidnapping. Diana questioned it of course but Spencer didn’t dare to tell the truth. He didn’t know how his mom would react to finding out her son was buying drugs off the street, or shooting up in police station bathrooms – but, soon it didn’t matter.

Spencer stopped all by himself. It was one of the hardest things he had ever had to do, other than the decision he made to put his mom in a sanitarium. Time moved on, Spencer went to meetings when he craved, confided in his teammates when he needed help – it was over. He never had to tell her.

That was until Spencer was visiting his mom a little over a year after getting clean. He was in her room with her visiting when he went to pull a book he got for her out of his bag and a few things came along with it. A pen, notebook, receipt or two, and his NA one-year chip. Spencer went to grab it, but Diana got it first.

Diana studied the coin for a moment before looking up at her son, “Spencer? Are you… Is this yours?”

Spencer wished the ground would open up and swallow him whole. He could lie, sure, but he knew she could read the look on his face and would see straight through any lie. “Yes, mom… It is mine.”

Spencer expected Diana to get upset, to ask a million questions, become angry, but no—instead Diana reached out and wrapped Spencer in a hug, “Oh my baby. I’m so proud of you for being clean for over a year.”

Spencer froze for a moment before hugging her back, “I… did you know?”

Diana shook her head against Spencer’s shoulder before letting go and looking him in the eyes, “I had no idea you were battling with an addiction, but you are so strong for getting clean.”

Spencer felt tears prick the corners of his eyes. He had been hiding this secret from his mom for over a year and a half, lying to her about how he was and what he had been up to, just because he didn’t want her to be upset with him. But here she was, hugging him and saying how proud she was, and not asking a single question.

“That’s it?” Spencer said, looking down and feeling ashamed, “You aren’t going to ask what I was using, or why? Or tell me you are upset at me doing drugs?”

Diana gathered Spencer’s hands in her own, “Spencer baby, I will listen to anything you want to tell me, but I won’t ask or pry. All I need to know is that you are safe and if you aren’t, I’ll try and help you.” Diana reached up and wiped a tear that made its way to Spencer’s cheek with her thumb, “Addiction spares no one. There is no shame in it. ‘It is by going down into the abyss that we recover the treasures of life. Where you stumble, there lies your treasure’.”

“Joseph Campbell,” Spencer supplied the author of the quote with ease.

Diana nodded, “Very good. You went through something horrible but grew from it.” Diana said before moving to the small sofa in her room, “Now, you can either let me read that book you got for me to you or tell me about what you have been through.”

Spencer looked at his mom for a moment. Maybe he didn’t need to protect her from the world, maybe he could use her protection every now and then. Spencer walked over to his mom and sat next to her, leaving the book on her bed.

I'm a slow writer but feel free to drop me a 5 sentence ask or a prompt in my ask box 🖤 Btw, I don't always go in order.

#maze's drabbles #more than 5 sentences #criminal minds #spencer reid #diana reid #no ship #after revelations #and Elephants memory #ask #coffeeconverseandcandles ask #thank you!#diana reid was actually a wonderful mom #her illness just got in the way a lot

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cacoetheswriting · 3 years

Text

library hours

Pairing: Spencer Reid x gn!Reader Warnings: maybe a swear word or two, really just FLUFF ft. baby spence Word Count: 1.3k Summary: A late night at a university library leads to reader meeting a tall brunette genius. [fyi i wrote a reimagined version with professor reid x reader. you can read it here]

A/N: dedicated to the amazing @ellesgreenaway for inspiring this little fic & giving it a title!! ❣️❣️❣️❣️❣️

There was something you always enjoyed about the going to the library.

Perhaps it was the way every single person that walked through the threshold had a purpose. A mission to complete. Perhaps it was the quiet. The solace you felt sitting alone in a corner researching various topics, for class and for recreational purposes.

The university library had quickly become your second home. A location you frequented more than your own dorm room. It wasn’t always to study, no. You people watched. Doodled. Even napped there from time to time. The place brought you peace, and by the time you senior year rolled around, you saw the librarians more than your college friends.

The university library was also the place where you first met a certain young brunette genius - which in time became the main reason why you liked it so much.

Lights were slowly being turned off section by section. A vacuum came to life in one of the aisles. People started to scramble from their seats - shoving their things into their backpacks, throwing out empty coffee cups into the overflowing bins, checking out books they might still use that evening.

All signs indicating it was time to go.

Dolly, one of the librarians, ushered towards you. Her jacket draped over her shoulders, her bag in hand. She gave you the usual spiel of how you can stay until the janitor is finished cleaning, to which you politely nodded along. She wished you a pleasant night, and with a “see you tomorrow” she hurried out the door.

Once she was out of sight, you groaned under your breath and ran your fingers through your hair. You had an assignment due tomorrow, one you started hours ago and only managed to formulate three total sentences. Your gut was telling you there was no way you were going to finish now, especially since you had about thirty minutes until you would have to leave.

Leaning back in your chair, you fluttered your eyes closed in an attempt to collect your thoughts. The tranquil feeling didn't last long as you were abruptly brought back to reality by a loud bang. You quickly sat back up and scanned the space for the source of the noise.

A tall brunette man, not much older than you, stood a few tables away, a heavy looking book at his feet and a shameful look spread across his features.

“The library is closed for the night.” You stated. The brunette scrunched his nose briefly. “B-but you’re here.” He remarked before leaning down to pick up the book he dropped.

“I have permission to be here.”

“What if I do too?” He challenged, taking a step towards you although still keeping a safe distance.

You folded your arms across your chest and arched a brow. “Well, do you?”

The brunette didn't respond. Instead, you noticed how his cheeks flushed a shade of red, how he clutched the book to his chest, and how his fingers tightened around the strap of his bag.

You couldn't help but smirk as you let your arms fall back down to your side.

“I’m just kidding. Come on, join me.” You said, pointing to to the chair across the table from you. “We have about twenty-five minutes before we get kicked out, might as well make the most of it.”

He hesitated for a split second, hovering in his spot. It wasn't until you turned your attention completely away from him, and back to the book in front of you, that he made his move.

“You’re not some sort of killer, are you? You’re not here to murder me?” You asked, looking up as he sat down. His eyes widened and he quickly shook his head in response. “Ehm... N-no.”

“That wasn't a very reassuring no, but I guess I’ll take it.” You nudged in response, and proceeded to work away on your assignment. As you worked, you could feel his eyes burning into you.

In any other situation, with any other stranger, the feeling would have made you uncomfortable. But there was something about the timid stranger that was quite welcoming.

“I-I actually, uhm, I profile serial killers. I help catch them.” He said after a moment of silence. Once again, you glanced up from your notes to look at him. Intrigue greeting your facial features. “I just started with the FBI.” He stated.

It wasn't a brag. No. It was a statement to make you feel more safe, and you couldn't help but smile at him. “So, mister FBI, what are you doing in a university library on a Thursday night?”

“Doctor.” He corrected.

“What?”

“Doctor FBI.” He said, corners of his lips twitching upwards. “I have PhDs in Mathematics, Chemistry, and Engineering.” Now, that was a brag.

You chuckled softly. “You don't happen to have a PhD in History under your belt, do you? Because that would be very helpful right about now.”

“No, but I do have an eidetic memory and can read twenty-thousand words per minute.” He declared. You stared at him in disbelief, your mouth parting ever so slightly in shock.

“Did they make you in a lab or something?” You teased, although you could tell he didn't find it amusing. He furrowed his brows, lips pursed into thin line. You chewed down on your bottom lip, feeling slightly ashamed for poking fun at the guy who was nothing but be nice to you. “I’m sorry.” You mumbled faintly. “That was rude.”

“It’s okay.” He quickly reassured, and shot you a timid smile. The two of you stared silently at one another. There was something amicable about the seconds that passed as you looked into his hazel eyes. Something harmonious. Friendly. Strong.

You cleared your throat. “There uhm, there’s this dinner not far from here. It’s twenty-four hours so they won't kick us out. Would you like to come with me? We can share a pie. I mean, if you’re into that. Or, or we can just have coffee-”

“Y-yes, I would love to.” The young doctor answered all too quickly causing you to grin at him.

Soon enough you were both packed up and up on your feet, heading towards the library exit.

There wasn’t a cloud in the sky making the million stars shine all that brighter. They looked like perfect sugar granules spilled on a dark surface, accompanied by the glowing moonlight. Breathtaking.

Street lamps glittered ahead, illuminating the streets. The two of you walked side by side, almost in sync.

“Does that big brain of yours possess information on Roman gods?” You asked while nonchalantly hopping up on the curb. You spread out your arms like a tightrope walker, and with one foot carefully placed in front of the other you continued your journey.

The wind blew lightly through your hair, your brunette companion observing quietly. A smile creeping up on his lips. “Because if you do, I might ask for your help with an assignment.” You glanced at him briefly.

“I-I do actually, ehm. The... The Ancient Romans were extremely religious, and believed their success was due to their strong beliefs. They believed that if you maintained a good relationship with the gods, they would be kind to you.” He briskly cleared his throat. “There were twelve Olympian Gods in total. Jupiter, Juno, Mars, Mercury, Neptune, Venus, Apollo, Diana, Minerva, Ceres, Vulcan, and Vesta...”

You let out a soft kindhearted laugh. “Okay doctor FBI, slow down. Wait until we get to the diner so I can really appreciate your genius.”

He blushed, feeling thankful that the darkness around prevented you from seeing. “It’s Spencer. My name, uhm, my name is Spencer.”

You stopped in your tracks and elegantly hopped off the curb. Spencer turned in his spot so that he was now facing you completely, only an arms reach away.

“Spencer...” You tested the name on your tongue, a smile embellishing your features. “It suits you.” You retorted before proceeding to introduce yourself, “I’m Y/N. It’s nice to meet you, Spencer.”

masterlist

spencer reid taglist: @no-honey-no, @calm-and-doctor, @idroppedmygourd, @averyhotchner, @wowitsel, @elldell1204, @hey-there-angels, @reidabookforonce, @ellesgreenaway

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fluff #fluff

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boldlyvoid · 2 years

Text

pre-writing a fic is so hard for me... as soon as i finish a chapter i want to share it right away. i could go insane waiting to share this with you guys so here is an excerpt.

alone together chapter one

masterlist - coming December 14th

She taps him on the back when she joins him outside, “you’re covered in snow,” she laughs.

“Well, it is snowing,” he responds, instantly feeling embarrassed.

“Did you drive here?”

He shakes his head, “no, I was at work when she called me, my boss dropped me off, I was just going to get a taxi home.”

“I parked down the road, it was a nice walk up. I can bring you home?” She offers, reaching out for his hand and taking it.

“Thank you,” he holds her hand, walking with her down the snow-covered sidewalk.

The roads are empty, the sun has set, the only lights are the bright orange streetlights, with Christmas banners and wreaths. Lights are strung along all the buildings, the shops are all decorated and the light hum of Christmas music echoes through the streets.

“Do you like Christmas?” She asks.

“I’ve never been fond of it, no,” he shakes his head. “It’s hard to love Christmas when your mom doesn’t know what day of the year it is…”

“I can’t imagine,” she whispers. “I never really had a mom, I mean obviously if I was born I had one, but she died when I was 8. It’s just been me and my dad since then, I don’t remember her all that much.”

“You know my story,” he sighs, wishing it wasn’t his mother’s side of events that she heard first.

“No I don’t, I know Diana’s,” she rebuttals. “I may not catch serial killers for a living, but I know when someone is uncomfortable with the side of events being portrayed. I’m a history major.”

“There’s a lot she doesn’t know about, things that made what was already bad, a lot worse,” he keeps it short. Not knowing her enough to trauma dump on her. Not really wanting to, either.

“I’ve never met anyone without a traumatic childhood,” he presses her lips together in the same awkward smile he’s normally sporting. “I think we all go through horrible things to grow, as unfortunate as it is.

“I see a lot of horrible things every day, some of which makes me grateful for the extent of how awful my childhood was,” he opens up just enough. “I am lucky to still have a mother, at the end of the day I know a lot of kids didn’t get that.”

“It’s not healthy to compare—”

“I know,” he cuts her off. “But I can’t help it, I feel bad about feeling bad… like I’m supposed to be grateful but I’m nowhere near it sometimes.”

“That’s valid,” she nods along, “but you also never need to be, and that’s also okay. Being both grateful and upset at the treatment can happen, and it can be okay.”

“How long have you been in therapy?” He catches it.

“4 years,” she smiles again. “It’s working, isn’t it?”

He laughs, “I might need to go to your therapist.”

She squeezes his hand a bit tighter just before she drops it, “this is me,” she stops in front of a little silver car. “Where am I taking you?”

“Did you still want to get dinner first?” He brings it up in case she forgot.

“Absolutely,” she smiles again, something he’s never going to get tired of. “Get in.”

She unlocks the door, moves stuff off her passenger seat and watches him get in, all while he can’t stop smiling. “Sorry for the mess.”

“It’s okay,” he doesn’t mind in the slightest. “What did you want for dinner?”

“There’s a pub-style restaurant down the road that’s pretty good,” she offers with a shrug.

“Let’s go,” he agrees, putting on his seatbelt and letting the night take him where it may.

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid request #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine

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spencers-renaissance · 3 years

Text

you know that a boy who likes boys is a dead boy

Summary: Spencer's gay. He joins the BAU and befriends the team, but it is 2003. It's a secret he has to keep. He just didn't expect it to be this hard.

Tags: gay!spencer, coming out, hurt/comfort, insecure!spencer, misunderstandings, angst with a happy ending, dad hotch, protective!hotch, protective!derek, childhood trauma TW: one instance of explicit homophobia, but it is referenced a lot, as is Spencer's internalised homophobia at the start of this fic. A shit ton of heteronormativity but tbh that's just canon lol

Pairing: Spencer Reid/OMC, Spencer Reid & Derek Morgan, Spencer Reid & Aaron Hotchner, The BAU Team & Spencer Reid

Word Count: 6k

Masterlist // Read on AO3

Consider this my contribution to pride month 😌 I've waited so long to post it and I'm so glad I'm finally doing it because it's definitely one of my all time favourites <3 Gideon is here somewhere but just like with all my early season fics he's not really part of the plot I combined my moreid and gen taglists bc it was hard to know the audience for this, but just ignore it if you're not interested!

you know that a boy who likes boys is a dead boy, unless he keeps his mouth shut, which is what you didn’t do, because you are weak and hollow and it doesn’t matter anymore. — richard siken, a primer for the small weird loves

Spencer has only told one person in his whole life.

His mother guessed. For as long as he can remember, she’s used gender neutral pronouns when talking about his future partner, read him all the gay literature she could find, promised him that he’s perfect just the way he is.

The trouble is that Spencer only believes her until the first grade, when Ryan Sampson shoves him over in the playground and calls him gay. His mom had only ever used that term in a sweet, loving way, taking care to associate such words with positivity, as long as his dad wasn’t around to hear. When that word comes out of Ryan Sampson’s mouth, it is not said with sweetness and love; it is said with venom, and Spencer learns quickly that his mom is wrong. He is not perfect just the way he is.

And so, he keeps it a secret. When his mom notices him getting uncomfortable at the mention of future partners, she stops bringing it up, though she refuses to give up the diverse education she provides for him outside of school. His dad tells him that one day he’ll be a strapping young man and marry a nice girl in a church, and Spencer nods along. He ignores the way his stomach turns with anxiety at the thought. Ignores the screaming match his parents have that night. Ignores the fact that it started because Diana chipped in with ‘or boy’.

He’s in high school by the time he’s twelve, and the only part he’s grateful for is the absence of pressure to get a girlfriend. His dad’s out of the picture now, and Spencer tries not to let himself think that maybe if he wasn’t like this he might have stayed. Diana’s so out of it most days that she doesn’t remember what she noticed about him when he was a child, only recalling the last few years of shoving himself so far back in the closet he can hardly see the door anymore.

It feels like he’s lost his last ally.

(He hates that a small part of him feels relieved she doesn’t remember; that he almost feels assured by the fact that the last person to know who he really is has forgotten. There is only this version of Spencer Reid now. No other exists.)

He makes the mistake during his second undergraduate degree. He’s just turned eighteen but he is already a doctor and, fortunately, this alienates him from most of his peers, but someone manages to slide past his defences. Ethan Miller is twenty, in the second year of his (first) undergraduate degree in Chemical Engineering, and he’s nice. Spencer doesn’t have a lot of experience with friendship, but they get on well and Ethan makes him laugh. For the first time, he feels comfortable in the presence of anyone other than his mother.

They slip into an easy friendship: waiting for each other after class — Spencer back in the undergraduate buildings now he has his first PhD under his belt — and going out for ice cream and pizza and Thai food. Ethan goes to parties while Spencer studies, and then they reconvene to watch Doctor Who and play cards.

For almost a year, Spencer keeps his secret carefully locked up, hidden behind the mask he’s perfected after so many years. Even though he’s eighteen, nearly nineteen now, he doesn’t try and explore that side of himself. No, that’s far too risky. He doesn’t try and pretend any other way either, he just stays silent and lets people’s assumptions lie for him, but he can’t help the longing that claws up his throat when he locks eyes with a passing guy on campus. One time, he’d seen two men kiss on a bench in the city, and he’d run back to his dorm and had a panic attack. Why couldn’t he have that?

The feelings don’t stop, and he doesn’t know how to make them. He hates that he isn’t normal, but still longs for the touch of a man, the feeling of being wrapped up in strong arms, of being kissed by dry, chapped lips, and falling asleep to a heartbeat approximately 11% slower than that of a woman’s.

It’s a constant battle inside him, emotions raging, and he struggles to control it, suppress it, tame it.

He pays a sorry price.

Ethan makes him feel comfortable, and that turns out to be a detriment. He relaxes around the other boy: he tells him about growing up as a pre-teen in a high school, about how a child feels living 260 miles away from home, even about his mother’s illness.

And one day, it slips out. They’re on the beach, lying on towels as they look up at the blue sky, talking about what their futures will look like: Ethan will be a successful chemical engineer in Berlin, and Spencer will work for the FBI, profiling serial killers.

“You’ll have to marry a German girl,” he tells Ethan. “It’ll be tough to convince an American girl to move all the way to Germany as soon as you graduate.”

“Yeah, and what about you? You’ll be off fighting crime around the country, not much of a life for a family.”

“Oh, I imagine my husband will be the type to—”

“Husband?”

Spencer freezes. It shocks him as much as it shocks Ethan. He doesn’t even pay much attention to Ethan’s disgusted face and his outraged tirade. He hears slurs and insults, hears him say that he can’t believe Spencer tricked him like this, that he was probably waiting to make a move on him, that he was never to look in Ethan’s direction again, but Spencer is frozen in time.

He’s never allowed him to think much about what his personal life might look like in the future, but he’d said ‘husband’ on instinct, without thinking, and it’s clearly something he actually wants. Ethan’s words sting, but the moment brings about a realisation Spencer is thankful for; it instigates a journey of self-discovery and self-expression, of the joy of living as your true self.

He loses his first and only friend, but he gains something much more valuable. He visits gay bars — nervously sipping a non-alcoholic drink in the corner at first, before soon becoming confident enough to respond to the men who sidle up to him and ask for his name. He lets go and dances the night away, sometimes going home with one of the many dance partners he acquires during the night, sometimes heading back to his own dorm happily alone.

Makeup and dresses and skirts and heels make their way into his wardrobe, and he befriends girls and drag queens and other gay men who encourage him to be exactly the way he is. And the best part is, he never has to come out to any of them. All of them know, and that’s good enough for everyone.

The fun comes to a sad sort of slow, however, when he joins the BAU. Everyone knows law enforcement’s relationship with the LGBT community is less than adequate — Spencer’s seen it with his own eyes: butch lesbians and men in dresses getting roughed up by angry police officers for ‘lewd behaviour’ or ‘drunkenness’ when they’re just being themselves. It’s not safe for him to tell anyone, so he doesn’t.

He still goes out with his friends when he’s in town and wears makeup and dresses and crop tops when he’s at home, but presents as rigidly straight Dr Spencer Reid to his team at the BAU.

The hardest part about it is that he loves his team. He’s known Gideon for years — and he wouldn’t be surprised if he suspects something after coming over to his house unannounced one night, only to have a man other than Spencer open the door — but he settles into a comforting dynamic with Hotch. He can’t help but see him as something of a father figure, and he knows Hotch has a soft spot for him, always looking out for him and taking him under his wing without a moment’s hesitation.

Elle, JJ, and Penelope all take a shine to him, too, teasing him without a hint of malice in their tones, only the kind of playful kindness that reminds him of his mother. He forms a special bond with Penelope and they spend hours watching Doctor Who together and geeking out on all the areas their interests overlap, and the comfort he feels with her matches the comfort he’s found with his new group of queer friends.

(She doesn’t hold a candle to Ethan, he decides one night, after he’d cried at a movie she’d made him watch and she felt so bad she made him hot chocolate and jam toast and cuddled him until he felt better.)

Derek becomes a brother to him. He puts him in a headlock at least once a day — which Spencer has been reliably informed by multiple sources is a very brotherly thing to do — and teases him relentlessly, while simultaneously being fiercely protective of him. Enough so, that Spencer sometimes wonders if he even has Hotch beat in that department.

He loves his team and his team loves him. It should be simple. It is still 2003.

He comes in one morning late for a briefing, his shirt buttoned wrong and his hair is a mess, and he’s fairly sure that his attempt to cover the hickey at the base of his neck with concealer has been ultimately unsuccessful. It’s obvious why he’s late. Gideon is too engrossed in the case file to notice, but Hotch raises an eyebrow, an amused look on his face as everyone else immediately takes to teasing him.

“Who’s the lucky lady, pretty boy?”

Elle raises an eyebrow to match Derek’s shit-eating grin, “Someone definitely got some strange last night.”

“When do we get to meet her, Spence?” JJ asks, smirking as he takes a seat.

He’s bright red — as if he needed to look any more debauched — and Spencer tries to ignore the hurt that seizes his chest at the reminder of his need to stay quiet. This team respects him, and he can’t throw that away just because Spencer gets too comfortable.

God, he wishes Penelope was here.

“None of your business,” he mutters, trying to keep his tone light. He fails.

Naturally, Hotch notices and swiftly moves the briefing on, and Spencer keeps his gaze locked on the case file, not missing the absence of a reprimand from his superior. He’s constantly thankful for the older man, but in this moment, he wishes he could hug him.

(A voice that sounds dangerously close to Ethan’s rises up and taunts him in his ear: he wouldn’t want a dirty homo like you anywhere near him—)

Derek doesn’t let up on the case, continuing to bug him about the special lady in his life. He does concede that it could’ve been a one night stand, which is one front he’s right on, but a couple more concessions are necessary before Derek comes close to the truth of last night.

Eventually, Derek stops, and Spencer notes that the cessation of comments comes suspiciously close to the last time Derek and Hotch were alone together. He doesn’t have it in him to feel angry at Hotch for stepping in when he had it handled; doesn’t have the energy to act as though his pride is wounded, because really, neither of those things are true, and he doesn’t need to add another item to ‘Spencer Reid’s List of Things He Pretends to Be.’

The situation is forgotten, and time moves on.

Things change when he finds his first proper boyfriend. He doesn’t know what he was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t the giddying rush of emotions it turns out to be, and Spencer spends his days smiling as he daydreams his time away.

His name is Oscar Wilkins, a History professor at Georgetown University, and Spencer falls quickly in love with him. Ever since their mutual friend had introduced them at a gay bar one evening, they’d spent all their free time together. He’s kind and gentle and understanding of Spencer’s hectic and unpredictable job, and he finally has the chance to experience everything he quietly and shamefully longed for as a teenager.

The only downside is the silent breaking of Spencer’s heart that the most important people in his life can’t meet his boyfriend. He longs to show Oscar off, to hold hands in front of his team, lean up to press a tender kiss to Oscar’s lips. He wants to put a framed picture of the two of them at the Washington Monument on his desk to remind him of why he needs to get through the hard days; he doesn’t want to have to sneak out of the hotel room he shares with Derek to whisper hushed, loving goodnights over the phone.

But he’s too scared. Too cowardly.

It’s different being who he is with his gay group of friends littered with wlws and drag queens and other gay and bisexual guys. They understand.

But Derek and Hotch are two extremely masculine, alpha men: Derek’s a ladies’ man and Hotch is married to a woman he met in college with a baby on the way and both have a strong and dominant energy that still sometimes manages to intimidate Spencer even after all these years. And Elle and JJ are lovely — some of his closest friends, really — but sometimes they remind him a little too much of the mean girls he went to high school with.

The hardest person to keep his secret from, though, is Penelope. She’s his best friend and he desperately wants to give her all of him, but he’s so scared. He’s lost a best friend to this secret before, and even though he’s certain she’d be fine with it, what if she accidentally let it slip to Derek? What if Hotch found out and didn’t see him in the same light anymore? What if the girls started teasing him? What if Gideon didn’t want to mentor him anymore?

The fear paralyses him. And it’s a cycle he doesn’t know how to break.

Fear, though, doesn't stop everyone from noticing his daydreaming, his dopey smile when he checks his messages, his urgency to get home where he would’ve stayed until the small hours of the morning before. As excellent as he is at hiding his sexuality, he’s fucking terrible at hiding the fact that he’s in love: it was easy enough to pretend he was straight, but hiding something this all-consuming is an impossible ask.

Derek comes over to perch on the edge of his desk one afternoon, sighing as he sits down. “Pretty boy, this is getting ridiculous,” he says, snatching Spencer’s attention away from his phone. “You’ve been grinning like an idiot for the last twenty minutes as you’ve texted Future Mrs Reid. When are we going to meet her?”

(He hates the new nickname the team has given his mystery significant other, although Oscar had found it hilarious. “It’s funny because when we get married, we’ll hardly be able to tell,” he’d argued through his laughter. “Neither of us will change our name because of our academic profiles, and we’ll both still be ‘Dr’. Our wedding rings will be the only indicator.”

Spencer hadn’t argued back, because he’d been too tongue-tied and flushed pink at Oscar’s use of ‘when’ in regards to their hypothetical nuptials. It was only made bearable by Oscar kissing him gently and tucking him under his arm, not embarrassing him any further as Spencer had sort of anticipated, warmth settling over his chest at the thought of their future together.)

“You won’t,” he replies, perhaps a little too curtly.

Derek starts at that, clearly not expecting it. He definitely should’ve tried to play it off as a joke. “What— should I be offended, pretty boy?”

You wouldn’t call me that if you knew who I really am.

“That’s up to you, Derek,” he says calmly, although he still can’t meet his eyes, “but you won’t meet the ‘Future Mrs Reid, so I think it would probably be best if you left it alone.”

“Damn,” Derek mutters under his breath, clearly pissed off and probably more hurt than Spencer ever intended. “Suit yourself.”

And with that, he gets up and leaves his desk. Spencer’s only solace is the text message he sees on his phone when he picks it back up: I love you so much. You know that, right?

The light-hearted ridicule comes to an abrupt halt after the incident with Derek, and it’s clear that he had been the biggest contributor to the teasing. He’s thankful that the jokes have stopped, but he wishes desperately that it didn’t come with the growing distance between him and his team. Loneliness takes the place of his previous irritated anxiety, and he isn’t sure what’s worse.

It all comes to a head at the end of a case in Michigan. They’re stuck in the lounge of the small inn they’d stayed in the last few days, a snowstorm having blocked them in and grounded the jet, although Gideon had long since retreated to his room. The fire’s going and they’re the only guests around, so it’s cosy enough, but Spencer can’t help but feel sick at the idea of another night away from home.

It’s only been two weeks since he’d snapped at Derek, but the chasm between him and the team is only widening with each passing day. He knows it’s not a case of ‘pick a side’, but the team’s morale relies on light-hearted banter and teasing, and him not being a part of that anymore has only brewed awkwardness. Everyone’s trying to give him space when space is the last thing he wants.

Oscar’s keeping him company over the phone at least, but it’s not quite enough to quell the loneliness swimming around his stomach, and the 'discrete' sideways looks he gets from the team only make him feel worse.

“At least it’s nice and toasty in here,” JJ sighs as she takes a sip of the hot chocolate the kindly inn owner had made for them all.

Elle hums in agreement. “There are worse places to be grounded.”

“I dunno, man, I just wanna get home,” Derek says, not taking his eyes off the fire. Spencer can’t help but agree.

“Oh, come on,” Hotch muses, considerably more jovial now the case is over, “we’re here, and that’s not going to change any time soon. We should make the most of it.”

“It’s at least nice to be somewhere sort-of Christmassy now it’s December,” Elle points out. “We could be stuck in a dingy police station like we probably will be next week.”

“Ooh, I noticed that Jemimah and Kiran started planning the Christmas party last week,” JJ says, smiling at them. “I offered my help, but they seem to have it covered.”

Hotch raises an eyebrow“That’s probably a good thing. You don’t need more work on your plate.”

“Not gonna argue with that,” she murmurs, smiling as she brings her mug to her lips again.

Spencer doesn’t miss that Derek is still stewing on the opposite side of the room.

“Are you looking forward to the Christmas party, Spencer? Will you come?” Hotch asks, clearly trying to rope him into the conversation, which he appreciates. He’s been making a lot of effort with him the past few weeks, and it’s just about the only thing that’s getting him through each day.

Before he can reply, though, Derek erupts from the other side of the room; an already pissed-off man being pushed over the edge. “He won’t even let us meet his fucking girlfriend, Hotch, he’s not gonna want to come to the Christmas party!” he yells, throwing his hands in the air as he glares at Spencer with a stormy expression raging across his face.

Suddenly, Spencer can’t stay silent anymore, and his retort shocks himself just as much as it does everyone else. “I don’t have a girlfriend!”

It might be the loudest he’s ever shouted in his whole life. He’s always been quiet and restrained, the type to state his feelings as calmly as possible no matter how he’s feeling on the inside. Even in the biggest fight he’s had with Oscar, his voice was barely loud enough to qualify as a shout.

There’s a brief stunned silence, but Derek quickly slices his way through it, voice raising to meet Spencer’s fiery emotion, fierce and loud. “Oh, don’t even go there, Reid, you’re really gonna try and argue that? You’re gonna lie about her as well as not let us meet her? What a boyfriend you are.”

“I don’t! I don’t have a girlfriend!” he repeats, voice catching this time as tears rise unbidden to the backs of his eyes and all the emotions of the journey he’s taken with his sexuality over the years flood him in a wave of intensity he’s not prepared for.

“You’re fucking lying—!”

“I have a boyfriend!” he yells. “Alright? I have a boyfriend. I’m gay.”

The anger and emotion quickly dissipates, and he’s left standing alone in front of the team he’s put so much effort into hiding this from, watching shock spell out across everyone’s expressions. He’s never felt smaller than he does in that moment, and he quickly grabs his phone before running upstairs to his room, locking the door behind him.

“Oh God, Oscar, I fucked up so bad,” he cries over the phone as soon as his boyfriend picks up.

“Hey, hey, breathe, baby,” Oscar says gently, but Spencer can hear the anxious concern in his voice, “it’s gonna be okay, I promise. I’m here. Do you want to tell me what happened?”

“I just— Oh God, I just told the team.” A new wave of horror rolls over him as he realises what he’s done. Times might be changing, but it’s still only 2006, and he doesn’t know each and every nuance of his team members’ political positions and, fuck, he hates that his existence is a fucking political position.

Oscar’s been so understanding of his reluctance to not tell the team, even though Spencer’s met pretty much everyone in his life. He isn’t sure what he’s done to earn such a gracious and understanding boyfriend, but he’s not about to question it.

“Baby, I know it’s scary, and I know you’re really worked up right now,” he counsels, voice soft and reassuring, using the nickname he knows Spencer loves the most to make him feel as safe as he can from 700 miles away, “but it’s probably not as bad as you think. From what you’ve told me about the team, they love you so much, and even in the case that in the past they've had some issue with gay people, I can't imagine they’d ever actually think of you any differently when it comes down to it, Spencer.”

He’s crying too hard to reply, and Oscar understands immediately, gently transitioning into a story about his day that slowly starts to calm him down, and by the time he’s wrapping it up, his tears are starting to subside.

“Thank you, Ozzy,” he whispers into the phone, lifting himself up off the floor and making his way to sit on the bed instead.

“You know I’d do anything for you, sweetheart,” he murmurs warmly. “Do you want me to stay on the phone for a bit?”

“Yes please,” he whispers again, holding it as close to himself as possible, drawing all the comfort he can from his boyfriend’s voice.

He lies there listening to Oscar’s voice and trying not to think about the disaster downstairs for a good ten minutes before there’s a tap at the door.

“Oz, there’s someone here,” he says, voice panicked.

“I think you should probably speak to them, baby,” he urges. “I’ll stay on the phone with you while you do, if you like?”

“Please.” He gets up from the bed gingerly, keeping his phone tightly gripped in his right hand as he slowly unlocks the door with his left, revealing Hotch on the other side.

“Hey, Spencer. Do you mind if I come in?”

He’s riddled with nerves, but Hotch is smiling warmly, and he’s never said a harsh word to Spencer, so he steps aside and lets him into his room.

Hotch quickly notices the phone in his hand, visibly still on a call. “Is that your boyfriend?”

Spencer nods.

“Do you mind if I talk to him?”

His brows knit in confusion and his lips part slightly in surprise, but it’s all he can do to hand the phone over, watching Hotch carefully.

“Hi, Spencer tells me this is his boyfriend?” Hotch inquires politely into the phone, his tone still warm. “I’m Hotch, Spencer’s boss.”

He can vaguely hear Oscar speaking on the other end of the line, and he worries slightly that Oscar will somehow give away the familial feelings he holds for Hotch, but the conversation doesn’t last long enough for the anxiety to really take over.

“Everything’s fine here, I just want to have a conversation with Spencer, so is it alright if we hang up and I talk to him alone for a minute? He can call you straight back afterwards.” After a brief pause in which Oscar says something, Hotch looks back up at him. “Are you okay with that, Spencer?”

He nods hesitantly, and Hotch says a quick goodbye to Oscar before surging forwards and wrapping Spencer in a hug. It catches him off guard, but he doesn’t waste any time in burying his face into Hotch’s neck and soaking in the comfort and warmth that always radiates from his father figure.

“Come on,” Hotch says softly as they pull away a good minute or so later, “let’s sit down, shall we?”

“You’re not mad?” Spencer can’t help but ask, the question burning his tongue as anxiety — however quietened from Hotch’s hug — still swims around in his stomach.

“There are many things that could make me mad, Spencer,” he says earnestly, “but this is not one of them. I would never be angry at you for being who you are, okay? I might… I might be overstepping here, and if I am, then tell me and I’ll back off, but I’ve always seen you as a mentee, and over the years that’s developed— well, I see you more as a son these days. And part of that is wanting to protect and support you no matter what you do or say or who you are.”

Spencer wastes no time in diving back in for a hug, clinging onto Hotch for dear life as he hugs back, rubbing his back gently.

“I’m so sorry you didn’t feel like you could tell us sooner, Spencer,” he says in a voice soft with affection and regret. “But I’m so glad you’ve told us now.”

He only presses closer at that, tears springing back to his eyes. “I didn’t want to lose you.” He knows what he’s implying, and even in a roundabout way, he’s glad he’s telling Hotch.

“Oh, Spence,” he sighs sadly, “you couldn’t do a single thing to lose me. I’m in it for the long haul.”

“Really?” he asks, hating how insecure he sounds.

“Really,” Hotch promises, pulling away as Spencer does. “Now, you have a whole team of agents downstairs who are feeling very sorry for themselves and really want to see you.”

Nausea rolls in his stomach and panic springs back up as he looks at Hotch, desperate for some sort of grounding. “Are they angry at me? Do they hate me now?”

“No one hates you, Spencer,” he says firmly. “I promise you that. Everyone just wishes that they’d made you feel more welcome and comfortable. We all hate that you felt you had to lock up something so integral to who you are, and we can’t help but feel we played a part in it.”

“No,” he protests — the last thing he wants is family blaming themselves when it has nothing to do with them, “it’s not your fault, it’s just…”

Hotch nods. “I understand, it’s okay. Now, do you want to go down and see them? You don’t have to if you don’t want to, but it might help ease your mind to see that they really don’t hate you.”

Spencer pauses, taking a moment to think. “Can I see Derek first?”

“Of course,” Hotch says understandingly, and the comforting smile that crosses his face makes Spencer feel safe and taken care of. “I’ll send him up?”

Spencer nods and Hotch hugs him once more before leaving the room almost reluctantly. He wastes no time in picking up his phone and sending a text to Oscar. You were right. Hotch is fine. He’s just sending Derek up before I go and see the team but he says that no one’s angry and I think I believe him. Thank you, Oscar. I love you.

Not even half a minute goes past before his phone lights up with a text back. I’m so glad, baby. Call me later, okay? I want to make sure you’re okay before I go to bed. I love you more.

Before Spencer can argue that actually, he is the one more in love with the other, a hesitant knock sounds on his door. Nerves suddenly flip his stomach, and he clenches and unclenches his fists a couple of times before forcing himself to cross the room, revealing a very worried and regretful-looking Derek.

“Oh, pretty boy,” he says sadly, before crushing Spencer in a warm and tender hug. Immediately, he relaxes into the arms of one of his best friends, and relief courses through his blood at Derek’s reaction. “I am so sorry that I ever made you feel like you couldn’t tell me that you were gay or had a boyfriend. That’s completely on me. I don’t care who you love, Spencer, I just want you to be happy, okay? And if this guy makes you happy, then that’s fine by me. But if he ever lays a hand on you or—”

“Derek, Derek,” he laughs, “it’s fine I get it. Thank you, though, I’m… I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you earlier and for snapping at you in the bullpen that time…”

“I understand, Spence,” he promises. “It’s in the past, okay? And I’m sorry for pushing so hard. I mean, I’d love to meet him but if you don’t feel comfortable or you don’t want to, that’s fine, too. It’s your life, man.”

“No, I… I think I want you guys to meet him. It’s been so hard to keep him away from the people I consider my family, you know?”

“Yeah, I know. Maybe after Christmas, we can all have dinner or something.”

Spencer smiles shyly. “Well, Oscar’s a great cook, so I reckon we could work something out.”

Derek grins, throwing an arm around his shoulders as he immediately jumps back into teasing him as they make their way to the door to go downstairs and see the rest of the team. “Ooh, lover boy’s got him a chef, hey? What else does this Oscar have going for him?”

Spencer chatters eagerly about his boyfriend to Derek, barely skipping a beat when he joins everyone downstairs, his friends taking his cues and joining in with the conversation seamlessly. He’s had enough fuss for one night, and the warmth and understanding on everyone’s faces tells him everything he needs to know.

“Do you have any pictures of him?” JJ asks, raising an eyebrow with eager expectancy as they all settle back into their seats by the fire, a warm and unbelievably happy feeling settling in Spencer’s stomach.

He blushes, digging out his phone from his pocket and unlocking it. “More than a few, I think.”

He finds the most recent picture of his boyfriend — a candid shot of him cooking in the kitchen, spatula aloft, and a huge grin on his face — and hands the phone around.

“Oh wow, you like them buff, huh, pretty boy?” Derek teases as soon as he gets his hands on it, and Spencer’s stomach twists in a sudden bout of fear, expecting to see some hesitancy or even disgust on his friend’s face. What if he thinks that Spencer has a crush on him? What if he’s uncomfortable around him now?

But if Derek’s having any of those thoughts, they don’t show on his face. He’s smiling widely and openly, all the pent-up anxiety and frustration borne from hurt gone from his body language, and he looks completely comfortable sat next to Spencer, his arm stretched out behind him on the back of the sofa.

They sit happily around the fire for a couple of hours, settling into a happy, intimate familiarity Spencer hadn’t realised was missing when he was hiding something so integral to his being from his family, and he’s still smiling when they finally part ways to head to bed, the clock ticking closer and closer to 1 am.

He gets ready for bed quickly, brushing his teeth and throwing on the top he’d stolen from Oscar the first time he’d stayed at his place; a welcome change from his worn and wrinkled suit. As soon as his teeth are brushed and the lights are all off except for his bedside lamp, he pulls out his phone, knowing there’s one more thing he has to do before he goes to sleep.

“Spencer?” Penelope’s voice sounds down the line, clearly concerned. “It’s almost 2 am here, are you okay?”

“I’m gay,” he says, getting straight to the point. The main reason he ever kept it from her was because of his fear of it accidentally getting out to the team rather than fear over her reaction. After all, multiple of his drag queen friends are also hers.

“Oh my God,” she says in that small voice she uses when she’s not actually talking to you, before finally actually replying to me. “Spencer, I’m so happy you told me!”

He doesn’t miss her choice of words, or the way she says them and he tilts his head suspiciously. “You already knew, didn’t you?”

She sighs. “Yeah. I’m sorry, a couple of months ago I saw a text from Oscar on your phone when you went to the bathroom during one of our Doctor Who marathons, and it wasn’t hard to figure out the relationship.”

“And… wait, you’re not mad at me for not telling you sooner?”

“Spencer! Of course not. I was waiting for you to be comfortable enough to share it with me. I felt awful that I knew without your consent but I didn’t want to tell you because I didn’t want to catch you off guard or make you feel uncomfortable. It’s fine that you waited, baby genius, I’m just so happy you told me now. What finally gave you the courage?”

“Well, it might have slipped out in front of the team this evening,” he admits sheepishly, “and the only reason I never told you was because I was scared that it would slip out somehow — accidentally, of course, I didn’t think you’d tell anyone on purpose — and now everyone knows. It’s been killing me not to tell you, Penelope, it really has because I love you so much and you’re my best friend and I trust you with my life, it’s just…”

“Whoa, slow down, Spence,” she laughs fondly, “you don’t have to explain yourself to me, I understand. But I’m glad you finally told everyone and you can be yourself completely with us, now. We all love you no matter what, you know that right?”

“I do now.”

“Good. You should get some sleep, baby boy, it’s late and you’ve had an emotional evening.”

Spencer smiles. “Yeah, I know. You should, too, Pen. I’ll see you when we can finally make it home, okay? Love you.”

“Love you, too, 187,” she says softly, and Spencer can hear the smile in her voice. “Goodnight.”

As soon as he hangs up, he settles down into the bed, turning off the light and pulling the duvet up over his shoulders before dialling one more number.

“Hey, baby,” Oscar says, voice as gentle and caring as it always is, although thicker with tiredness now. “I take it everything went okay?”

“Yeah,” Spencer murmurs, already feeling tired as the safety he always feels at the sound of Oscar’s voice settles into the fibres of his being. “It went so well. I can’t wait for you to meet everyone.”

“I can’t wait either, sweetheart. Are you in bed now?”

“Yeah,” he sighs. “Can you talk to me as I fall asleep?”

“Anything for you, Spence,” he says softly, before transitioning seamlessly into a story about the professors on campus, and his gentle comfort and the knowledge of the unconditional love his family has for him finally lulls Spencer into the best sleep he’s had in weeks.

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schrijverr · 2 years

Text

He Was Left on the Steps of the FBI in a Basket 6

Chapter 6 out of 7

Maybe not a basket, but sixteen-year-old Dr. Spencer Reid suddenly shows up at FBI headquarters claiming that his mother has been kidnapped. The BAU isn’t certain first, but the case he sets them on proves to be an interesting one, wherein they get to know the young doctor until he’s practically family. In this chapter, they corner Alexander, but he still has Diana. Can they get her back? And what will happen with Reid after?

On AO3.

Ships: brief hotch/hayley mention

Warnings: ableism

~~~~~~~~~~

Safe Return

The camera lenses stare to the podium like a still army, ready to explode. And Reid doesn’t think he’s ever been more nervous, not even when presenting his PhD thesis. He’s still in the shadows now, but soon enough JJ will go up there and introduce him and then he’ll have to up there.

It’s absolutely terrifying.

Hotch is a steadying presence near him and Morgan squeezes his shoulder encouragingly, while JJ promises she’ll be up there with him the entire time.

JJ walks out and the flashes start to as questions start being tossed her way. She silences them all with a hand motion, before starting: “As you all know, we’re chasing the man responsible for the now 39 victims found in the wood. We have the identity of the killer, Alexander Seeworth. He is currently not in our custody and in the wind with a hostage, Diana Reid. Her son wants to make a statement, I ask you to not ask questions and respect what a difficult time it is for him.”

Then she looks over at Reid and he knows it is time. With reluctance he makes his way to the crowd. He has on the best outfit he has with him and did his hair while panicking in front of a police precinct mirror. He is in no way prepared for this, but he’ll have to be.

“H- Hi,” he starts. “Uhm, my name is Dr. Spencer Reid and I’m sixteen. I- I wanted to stop introducing myself as doctor,” he chuckles wetly, “but my- my mom wouldn't let me. She told me: Spencer, be proud of what you are, you worked hard for it. Don’t let the judgment of others dim your light.”

With the first few sentences out of the way, he finally dares to look up. “You see, she always supports me, no matter what. She’s my world and the only family I have, the only person who has always rooted for me.”

He looks to the side to see JJ nod reassuringly and he feels a bit better about it. “Alexander,” he addresses a camera, having read the books on whatwill make the most impact. “I beg you, let my mother go. I know what happened to you and that was awful, but please don’t break apart another family. It doesn’t have to end like this.”

“My mom isn’t alone, she isn’t lost,” he says. “She’s kind and smart and has me, who loves her very much. You’re not doing her a favor by killing her. Please, I know you’re kind to your victims, so be kind to my mom and return her safely to me. She’s all I have, please don’t take her from me.”

In the end, he feels the tears streaming down his face and his voice is beyond wobbly, but it was clear and his message is out there. Now it’s hoping that a delusional serial killer has some kindness in him.

JJ takes his place again as he makes his way back to the calming presence of the others.

In the background he hears JJ say: “As of now, we don’t have a location yet, but two pictures will appear on you screen. These are Diana Reid, mother of Spencer Reid, who you just heard, and Alexander Seeworth. If you see either of these people, please call the authorities. Alexander, you can also call the line, if you are willing to negotiate Diana’s safe return. Thank you.”

“How is a serial killer kind to his victims?” one reporter yells and that opens the floodgates as they come barging down on JJ, Hotch also coming up to help.

Reid is watching with a strange sort of fascination of how easily JJ operates in this arena, but he’s lead away by Morgan and Rossi. He’s not sure if he’s grateful or if he wants to listen as JJ tells the press clinically about the man who has his mother.

He’s suddenly very angry at Seeworth, who came into his life and took his mom as if he had any right to do so. The rage has to go somewhere so he kicks a chair as he clenches his fist, when that doesn’t work, he punches it, then the air, before pulling on his hair angrily.

At that point, he is stopped by Morgan, who grabs his fists and gently pries them out of his hair as he says: “Hey now, hey now, calm down, kid. No need to hurt yourself. I know it’s difficult and it’s okay to be angry, but don’t hurt yourself.”

“That bastard just took her,” he tells Morgan angrily. “He just came in and decided my mom makes a good sacrifice, but she doesn’t. I read all the files of the victims, most had barely any contact with their families, nor many people that cared for them. For most it took two to five days, before they were reported missing. My mom doesn’t fit with them, she has me. And he decided she didn’t and just took her.”

Morgan nods: “That’s very upsetting, but you did great out there kid.”

And like that the fight leaves Reid. As fast as the anger came, equally fast it leaves. He slumps down in his chair and asks: “You think so?”

“Yeah,” Morgan assures him. “I’ve seen a lot more of these than I would like. You did very well, promise.”

“I just hope it’s enough,” Reid replies.

“In case it isn’t, we’re still going to try and predict where he will take her,” Rossi inserts himself into the conversation. “We’ll find her.”

“We know he likes clearings,” Prentiss starts, looking at the map. She too has left JJ and Hotch to deal with the press, much rather working on finding Seeworth than getting hounded by hungry vultures.

“They’re like little island in the forest,” Reid explains without much emotion. “In the myth Aeolus lived on an island. He’s the one that gave Odysseus a bag with all the winds but the West wind contained in it. He probably would have gone to a real island, if they had one. It’s the next best thing near Ithaca.”

“Well, the first two dump sites were West of Ithaca, so we can exclude the East part of the forest,” Morgan says, studying the map.

“But those two clearings aren’t even on the map,” Prentiss points out. “We have no clue where all the clearings are and where he might go.”

“Maybe there’s a ranger we can talk to,” Rossi says. “Someone around here has to know the area well enough.”

JJ is just in time to hear Rossi say that and startles them as she replies: “I’ll see if I can get into contact with the local rangers.”

“We could coordinate with them, set out search parties in the forest as well,” Hotch says. “He can hide in there, but he can’t disappear. He’ll have to be somewhere.”

So, the local rangers are called in to make a lists of clearings to canvas and the police is split up to go with the rangers to cover the area and see if they can find Seeworth, while the BAU sits and waits, ready to move out at a moments notice.

Reid is sitting at a desk now, staring at the phone, waiting for someone to patch Alexander Seeworth through to them, because he’s willing to hand his mom over. But the horn stays firmly in place, no one is calling yet.

In the background, the 8 AM news replays his statement that he has given two hours ago, though it feels like days. His voice from the speakers is shaky and he hates how small he sounds, how young, how helpless. He hates the newscaster even more for how emotionless she calls for help in finding the perpetrator.

Rossi sits down next to him, snapping him out of his thoughts. He gives the older agent a questioningly look and the man says: “This part is always the hardest, I know, kid.”

“I think I should be feeling more,” Reid informs him. “I don’t think I’m experiencing the stress right.”

“And I think that you’re having a healthy reaction by mentally distancing yourself from it,” Rossi counters. “Not everyone reacts the same. It all depends on the person. Some get mad, other cry and some shut down or go on autopilot.”

“I guess,” Reid sighs.

“Don’t worry, kid, with a 187 IQ, there are some brain bits that can go to keeping you functioning until all this is behind you,” Rossi assures him.

“That not how-”

“I know, I know,” Rossi smiles. “Me and Morgan were planning on looking at the profile again, to see if we missed something. Want to join us?”

Anything sounds better than sitting at that desk, staring at a phone that may never ring. He gets up immediately. “Let’s go.”

“What have you got?” Rossi asks Morgan, who is studying the picture of Alexander Seeworth on the board.

“I don’t know, I mean, he must know we’re finding at some point,” Morgan says. “He’s on foot and outnumbered, when we find him it’s over. The end.”

“Of course,” Reid’s eyes light up. “He knows it’s done. He’ll go to the ending. He hasn’t stuck to the myth so far, Aeolus, whogave the wind, retracted it when Odysseus was blown back to his steps, thinking him unfavored by the gods. No sacrifices were ever made either. He just picks and chooses what he likes and adds in stuff. If he knows it’s the end, he’ll go to the end of the myth.”

“To the fields, where his wife and son are waiting,” Rossi nods, getting what Reid is saying. “Do we know where they are buried?”

“I can find out,” Morgan tell him already picking up the phone. “Baby girl, do you know where the wife and son of Seeworth are buried?”

“No, but I can find out, especially for you,” Garcia replies and they can hear the keyboard clicking over the line. “They’re not in a database, Ithaca doesn’t have an extensive registry.”

“How many are outside the city limit?” Reid asks.

“Narrowing it down, okay,I can work with that,” Garcia goes back to typing. “Six.”

“And how many are on the West of Ithaca?” Reid says.

“Three.”

“Are there any with fields, as a thing,” Reid asks. “That’s vague, uh, one with field sprawling, no buildings nearby? Modern houses ruin the fantasy.”

“Yes!” Garcia exclaims. “Robertson Cemetery. Oh, oh no, Alexander Seeworth has a spot reserved there for when he dies.”

“It’s the place,” Morgan confirms.

“I’ve send you the address,” Garcia says. “It’s 5,5 miles from where you are, you can be there in 15 minutes.”

“Thank you, baby girl, you’re a goddess,” Morgan tells her.

“And don’t you forget it. Good luck!” Garcia smiles as she hangs up.

“I’ll tell Hotch,” Rossi says.

Before he can walk away he is stopped by Reid, who is grabbing his sleeve. He looks back to see Reid giving him the same pleading eyes that have worked on the others. “You gotta convince Agent Hotchner to let me come. He’ll be different because he’s mad and I need to be there.”

Rossi has come to known Reid as an articulate young man with a thousand arguments, but he falters here, alerting Rossi to how invested he is in getting permission to come. “I’ll try, kid.”

“Thank you,” Reid is so incredibly relived and sincere that Rossi decides to force Hotch’s hand.

Within minutes they’re tearing down the road at full speed with the sirens blaring. Reid is in the car with Rossi and JJ, the unmarked bulletproof vest he’s been given is slightly too big and Rossi can see in his eyes that he is overwhelmed.

They don’t really have time to brief him more than Hotch already has afterthe most intense staring contest known to men. Reid is a blinker, but in that moment he stared right back and Hotch let him come despite his apprehensions.

At the cemetery, they pile out of the cars and close in on Seeworth, who is trying to make a fire, Diana tied up in a toga next to him. When he hears them, he turns around and hauls Diana to her feet, putting a knife to her throat. “Don’t come any closer!”

“Alexander, we just want to talk,” Hotch calls back through a PA. “We know why you’re here and we are very sorry for what happened to you, but you need to let Diana go.”

“I need her,” Seeworth’s eyes are wide and wild. “She’s the last. Then I have the ten years and I can go home.”

“You know that’s wrong!” Reid yells and they all cringe. They have explicitly told him to stay silent unless Diana would get in the way. And Diana, is luckily, having a very good day, it seems. She is also gagged and bound and can’t do more than be there.

“Reid,” Morgan warns, but Reid isn’t listening.

“No, you know that’s not how it went and that you’re here for a different end,” Reid says. “You know that Odysseus got the winds immediately and was ignored after. You know that you can never go home. In some reading Aeolus never evenwas a god, just a keeper of the winds and Odysseus never made a human sacrifice. You’re making things up as you go and you know they’re not going to work, so just stop.”

“Who are you to tell me what I know?” Seeworth spits.

“This is Spencer, Spencer Reid,” Hotch answers, deciding to go with it because there is really nothing else he can do. “Maybe you saw him release a statement to the press today?”

“Yeah, I saw your statement,” Seeworth tells them, knife inching closer to Diana’s throat. “You made her doubt again, I almost had her and then she didn’t want to, because you were there looking for her. You’re not even a good son, I watched your house, you’re never home, always gone. So why are you suddenly here begging for her now?”

Reid looks like he’s been slapped.

JJ steps forwards to haul him back from it all, but then Diana smiles at him around the cloth. It’s encouragingly and compassionate, she really is having a good day, thank god.

Hiseyes harden as he calls back: “I’m a great son, fuck you. You would have known that if you had thought for two seconds, but you didn’t because all you care about is finding people who can fit in your delusion.”

This is the opposite of decreasing the tension, but that isn’t stopping Reid: “You care for your victims because you know deep down that what you’re going to do to them is wrong and if they agree with you then you can put the blame on them. You don’t want to be responsible, because you know this is not working. Just like you don’t want to feel responsible for what happened to your family, but you’re not. You’re not responsible for them getting killed. It’s not your fault just because you weren’t home.”

It looks like Seeworth is listening and everyone holds their breath.

“You can’t control the actions of another, and blaming yourself and denying it, isn’t helping anyone, including you,” Reid says, voice becoming gentler. “Just like you know you’re not able to come home. That’s why you are here. To kill my mom and then yourself, fulling the Odysseyby coming home in the fields even if they’re the fields of Elysium. But you are notOdysseus and all you’re doing is taking the only person who has ever cared about me away. You are responsible for your actions now. Don’t turn into a person like the one that killed your wife and son.”

“No! No, you’re wrong,” even as he says it, he doesn’t look convinced. “I have nobody. I am nobody.”

“Yes, you are,” Reid tells him. “You are a somebody. You are Alexander Seeworth and you lived through a tragedy, but you don’t have to make the whole world one. You can still make a difference, Alexander. You can be someone, who is kind, even if the world is not.”

Slowly – agonizingly slow – Alexander lowers the blade. He cuts the binds holding Diana’s hands together then drops the blade, holding up his hands.

Immediately the agents rush forwards as Diana rushes into Spencer’s waiting arms and he buries his head into her chest, unable to form words. She strokes he hair and places a kiss on her forehead as she whispers: “My little knight, I’m so proud of you.”

“Mom,” he chokes out and clutches her tighter, tears falling out his eyes.

In the background Alexander is cuffed and hoisted away from the scene as slowly the officers start to dissipate and the news crews that had come, follow. Only Spencer and his mom are left, as well as Prentiss by the waiting car.

She watches as the two finally let go. Diana cups Spencer’s face as she checks in his eyes if he’s okay, before calling him a silly boy for putting himself in danger like that.

Softly Spencer answers: “I couldn't let them forget you, mom. I won’t let you disappear on me, I’ll always come for you.” He reaches into his satchel then and pulls out the purple cardigan he has carried with him since Vegas, like a security blanket. “I brought you this,” he says as he offers it to her.

“Thank you, honey,” his mom says and they both share a smile that says more than words ever could in that moment.

Diana is still wearing one of her dresses under the toga and gladly takes it off to pull on her cardigan. When that it done, they look like they’re ready to move further than a few feet from each other and Prentiss steps forwards to bag the toga for evidence.

It’s only as she does that the two even notice the other’s have left. Prentiss explains: “The others would have stayed to wait, but JJ has the press and Hotch has to be there as the leader ofthe investigation. Morgan and Rossi didn’t want to intimidate accidentally.”

Spencer smiles: “Thank you for waiting.”

“Of course,” Prentiss smiles back, before gesturing to the car.

Mother and son get into the backseat together and during the fifteen minute drive Prentiss listens bemusedly as Spencer rants to his mother how Seeworth completely misused and misinterpreted the Oddysey, to which Diana replies that it’s a travesty because it’s not even a good book. That sets the two off again and before they know it they’re at the station an Prentiss knows more strangely specific insults to a classic.

Seeworth is in a holding cell, having caught him red-handed, they don’t really need to get a confession out of him soon. Diana, on the other hand, is lead to an interview room, where Hotch is waiting for her.

When Spencer sees him, he asks: “Can I be with her for her statement?”

Hotch shakes his head. “Sorry, Reid, but you cannot influence her. She might not tell us all if you’re there and we need to full story.”

“First off, sheis right here,” Diana says. “Second off, it’s Dr. Reid.”

“I’m sorry, Dr. Reid,” Hotch apologizes to both of them while Spencer looks mortified: “It’s okay, mom, I told him they could drop the doctor.”

“You shouldn’t let people disrespect you, Spencer. You worked hard for that title,” his mom insists anyway. “Now, shoo. I have statement to give to this-” she gives Hotch a disdained up and down, “this government agent.”

Spencer isn’t sure if he wants to leave her with Hotch. Now not for her well being, but for his own dignity. Still he has to let her go and watches from the other side of the window.

Prentiss notices him sitting there and sits down next to him. “I’ll never get used to see that.”

“See what? Family members there? Does that happen often?” he asks, slightly concerned.

“My mom’s a diplomat,” she tells him. “She’s involved in a lot of stuff. But no, I was talking about Hotch’s victim face. He has this softness around him when he talks to victims and it’s weird when he normally doesn’t even blink.”

“You noticed that too?” Reid says.

“Yeah, it’s weird,” Prentiss laughs, glad to see she has successfully distracted Spencer.

It doesn’t last long, however, because soon he’s looking back and wondering: “What do you think she’s telling him? Do you think she’ll ever tell me?”

“Maybe,” Prentiss tells him honestly. “Some people, especially parents, don’t want their kids to know what they went through. They think they have to be strong for them and showing a crack in the facade will break the bond they have with their children.”

“But me and mom aren’t like that,” Spencer says. “We’re equals.”

“Then maybe she’ll tell you, but I won’t count on it,” Prentiss replies. “Better to keep your hopes low, thanexpect the unlikely.”

“I will hear it in court, won’t I?” Spencer asks then. “I’ll probably be called as witness, right?”

“With how much we have on this guy, you probably won’t have to take the stand,” Prentiss says. “And even so, your mother’s statement might not be used.”

“Why not?” Spencer exclaims indignantly. “She was with him for over a week.”

“She also has a medical condition that makes her an unreliable witness,” Prentiss breaks the news gently. “She’ll have to undergo a psych eval to check if she’s mentally alright after all this. We don’t know what a judge will think of her statement. We don’t even know if she’ll get to take you home after this.”

Spencer looks upset. Morgan has checked if he knew that his mom might be deemed an unfit parent after this and Spencer knew that. But there is a big difference between a theoretical possibility and a impending likelihood.

“What will happen to me then?” Spencer asks her.

Prentiss is in no way prepared to deal with this and wishes JJ were here, but she’s outside answering all the questions the press has. So, she attempts to answer gently: “They’ll probably look for your closest relative. Your father. If he agrees to take you in, you’ll be placed with him. Otherwise another family member or in the foster system if none are found.”

“My dad won’t take me,” Spencer says. “He left when I was nine, I don’t want to be placed with him. And I don’t want to be placed with some relative I don’t know, who broke contact after my mom’s diagnoses. Or in the foster care. I’m good at CalTech. I can go live in the dorms if I have her permission. I’ve been doing fine on my own, I don’t want to leave.”

“I know it’s hard, but as a minor, we’ll have to,” Prentiss says hating it.

“And I’ll never see any of you again,” Spencer adds sullenly.

“Hey, now, don’t be stupid,” Prentiss can at least set the record straight there. Spencer has made himself too much at home in her soul for her to let go. He reminds her of Declan in a way. “I still have to write you that letter, remember? And you need to be my source for my CV. Don’t think you’re getting away that easily.”

Spencer laughs at that, but it’s truly more a giggle and, without the uncertainty of this case hanging above his head, he looks much younger.

“Besides,” Prentiss adds, “I think Garcia will murder me, if I don’t bring you by her office again someday. She asked me for picture updates on ‘the adorable little brain’.”

“I can’t let you get killed by an angry tech analyst, who will write my letter otherwise,” Spencer jokes, but Prentiss can read the truth in his eyes. ‘Thank you for not leaving like everyone did, thank you for believing me and doing everything to get my mom back. Thank you for assuring me that no matter what, I won’t be alone again.’

What neither of them know, was what conversation is taking place in the room next to them. Hotch has just taken Diana’s statement when he broaches the topic, before she can get up. “Dr. Reid, I wanted to talk about something else, before you go.”

She sits back down with a questioning noise.

“You will most likely have to undergo a psych eval,” Hotch says. “And I know of two LVPD cops, who would be more than happy to testify against you in a court of law. Are you aware that you’ll likely loose custody of your son?”

Diana looks taken aback by his bold statement for a moment, before nodding, sadness aging her as she heaves a deep sigh. “I don’t want to get taken to a mental institution and I don’t want them to take my baby from me and give him to that excuse of a father.”

“I have a proposal for you,” Hotch tells her, piquing her interest. “You don’t have to agree, I just want you to listen. Is that okay?”

She thinks about it for a moment, then nods.

“As I am aware, I have not known your son for very long,” he begins. “However, he has a way of making himself at home in people’s heart and my whole team has grown quite fond of him in the short time we spend with him. You now still hold guardianship over him, if you were to sign those rights over now, they will be upheld in a court of law.”

“Are you-” Diana begins, frowning. “Agent Hotchner, are you asking me to name you the guardian of my child?”

“This must be a quite sudden and big ask,” Hotch agrees. “However, I am a trusted federal agent and I won’t be questioned as parent. If those same cops want to testify again me, I can point to the investigation I am already launching into their precinct and they can’t hide behind finally having enough proof to take Spencer away. I can approve him living in the dorms at CalTech without the chance I’ll run into difficulties later if we hit a paperwork wall and in the meantime the parental rights get given away. I’ll insure you’re close to him and he gets to stay at CalTech.”

“How can I trust you?” she asks.

“I am willing to put it in writing right now,” he states. “I had Garcia give me the proper paperwork for the transaction of parental rights and I wrote up a contract for us on the plane.”

He presents it to her and she inspects them all carefully, reading every wordwith attention. She knows what’s at stake her and the risks it brings. Diana stops at one page and says: “Who’s Hayley and why has she signed here.”

“Hayley is my wife,” Hotch says. “This is her acknowledgment that she is aware that I am taking responsibility for Spencer and that she is not. Since she is my wife, I want to be able to prove that I did not do this behind her back on impulse and that we talked about it, therefore it can be proven as awell informed decision, should it come to that.”

“You really did think this true,” Diana says, sounding slightly impressed.

Hotch remembers his own youth and how hard he’s worked to become the man, he needed back then. He’s always wanted kids, to care for a new generation and make sure they’re okay. He can’t think of anyone more deserving of that than Spencer. “I have,” he confirms.

“Do we need a witness or something when we sign?” Diana asks him.

“No, you can just sign on all the empty lines, except this one,” Hotch points. “This one is for Spencer, I thought it only fair, he gets to make the final decision.”

Diana nods and begins signing the paperwork as Hotch calls in Spencer. A Spencer who is very concerned and shares a confused look with Prentiss before he enters, closing the door behind him. He sees Diana signing and asks: “Is everything okay? I didn’t know there was that muchpaperwork involved with taking a statement.”

“It’s not about the statement,” Hotch says. “Take a seat.”

They explain it all to him and he starts crying, rushing to put down a messy signature through the blur of the tears. He hugs Hotch on impulse, surprised he’s met with a tight embrace, before hugging his mom as well.

When the three of them emerge from the office, the other’s are all there waiting for them with expecting looks. Prentiss quickly deflects: “You were really sketchy and weird when you called in Reid. I was concerned.”

“I have taken over guardianship of Reid, so that he will be able to remain in CalTech near his mother,” Hotch says. “And before any of you ask, I talked about it with Hayley and insured it’s legally foolproof. You’re going to see both Doctors Reid on Christmas, if you decide to celebrate at my house.”

“Oh my god,” JJ says. “Congrats, I’m so happy for you guys!” She hug both Hotch and Spencer, before shaking Diana’s hand, then pulling her into a hug as well as she says: “I’m so glad we did not only manage to reunite you with Spence, but that we get to keep it that way.”

The others follow suit in their surprised congratulations and Hotch can only imagine what he’ll arrive to in the office once Garcia knows. He should be upset about that, but having Spencer as part of his family feels right.

A/N:

The end of the fic really is:

Hotch: I’m having a child!

Spencer: Congrats, when are they d-

Hotch: It’s you, sign here

Also small disclaimer, 1) I don’t know how paperwork in this regards works, I’m 19 and childless. 2) Do NOT randomly adopt a child, Hotch can make this choice as a treat, bc he’s fictional. Thanks!

#RR writing #tw: ableism #spencer reid #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch #diana reid #emily prentiss #dave rossi #derek morgan #penelope garcia #jennifer jareau #cm #cm au #criminal minds #criminal minds au #He Was Left on the Steps of the FBI in a Basket #He Was Left on the Steps of the FBI in a Basket Part 6 #dad hotch #hotchner is a dad

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spencers-dria · 3 years

Text

Lost at Sea

Single Dad Spencer x fem reader

Summary: This is kind of a little Christmas-adjacent fluff peice where Spencer is a single dad, completely clueless while Christmas shopping for his daughter. Reader sees him struggling and decides to help, completely unaware of where it will lead them. I imagined him sometime after the show ended, kinda with his somewhat longer curly hair and glasses. This story is completely fluff and I make no apologies.

Well, that was about the third loud huff from the man standing down the isle from me. This one was so loud it blew his hair around a bit, making it even messier. I try to focus on the task at hand, finding the perfect gift for my best friend’s little girl.

Diana was the closest thing I had to a daughter of my own. Despite Anne’s protesting, I took every opportunity to spoil her daughter rotten. The adorable and precocious little girl had me absolutely wrapped around her finger. I have to fight the urge to buy everything I thought would put a smile on her face, my favorite sight in the world.

But now, I was repeatedly distracted by the clearly frustrated man standing next to me, eyeing the girls toy section like it was an enigma. I decide to approach him, but he’s still to lost in his thoughts to notice.

I clear my throat while giving him a light tap on the shoulder.

“Can I help you with anything?”

“Oh I didn’t realized you worked here.”

“I don’t.” I smile sweetly at him. “You just look like you’re trying to solve the worlds most challenging puzzle over here.”

He meets my eyes with a sheepish smile, nervously rubbing the back of his neck. I try my best to ignore just how attractive this man is. He’s definitely not available.

“I guess in a way I am. I’m trying to buy a Christmas gift for my daughter. It’s safe to say that I know absolutely nothing about girls. I want it to be absolutely perfect, and I just know whatever I get won’t be half of what she deserves.”

“Well I can help with that. How old is she and what does she like?”

He pushes his glasses up his nose, giving me a moment to ogle just how attractive his hands are.

“Her name is Alice, she’s 5. I know she loves Disney princesses. Ariel is her favorite I think... but even once I narrow it down to that, there is still just so much. Who knew shopping for little girls could be so overwhelming.”

I can’t help but giggle a bit at his helplessness. He starts to laugh along with me.

“I’m Spencer by the way.” I see him hesitate a moment before slowly extending a hand. I look at his extended hand with a slight feeling of guilt, knowing he’ll most likely judge me based on my response.

“Oh I’m sorry I hope you don’t think I’m rude but... I don’t really shake hands. It’s not personal it’s just all the germs. I don’t deal so well with them.”

He lets out a soft chuckle, but I can’t imagine why. Is he actually laughing at me? Seems a bit rude.

“You know I used to be the exact same way. I suppose having a kid has changed me more than I realize sometimes.”

I nod, quietly, knowing I can’t really relate.

“I’m sorry you’re probably really busy. Are you shopping for your daughter too?”

Unsure as to the reason why, I’m suddenly embarrassed to admit that I’m not actually a parent. Just a single loner in their mid-thirties, living vicariously through their best friend and their.

“Oh no, just a friend. I’m more than happy to help you out with Alice. If you want my best ideas though, I’ve got to be honest, a lot of it is online. I can show you the links real quick, I’d you’d like?”

“I feel like this would be easier if we just... Would you like to grab coffee? I know a great place just around the corner. You can show me all your ideas and hopefully we can pick out something for her together.”

Up until this point I didn’t want to make assumptions, but it’s becoming more clear that Spencer is most likely a single dad. I don’t want pry, but I can’t help but wonder what happened to her mom.

I try to hide my excitement at his offer.

“You had me at coffee. And I almost forgot, I’m Y/N!”

————————————————

Three hours and several cups of coffee later, I knew a small part of the life story belonging to Spencer Reid. He was an FBI agent, part of a team who hunts down serial killers. A profiler. Or former profiler? He used to work in the field, until he had to raise his daughter alone. He had been fallen hard and fast for someone who left him as soon as another opportunity, or person rather, had presented themselves. They left him a single dad, all alone with his 2 year old daughter, Alice.

Being a single parent, he knew he couldn’t continue a job that put him in harms way on a regular basis. He never had a problem putting his life on the line for others, but Alice had become his number one priority, without question. Switching to a desk job had allowed him to continue as a consult for the team while also teaching at the University.

As I looked over his attire, I couldn’t help but notice that he didn’t quite give off professor vibes at first glance. His cozy maroon sweater and glasses, perhaps. But his curly mop of disheveled hair and goofy grin made him look more like a cuddly muppet character. The more I listen to him talk the more I notice his intelligence. I should have known, given his professions. It didn’t take long to realize he was well out of my league, but he was kind enough to give me the time of day for whatever reason.

I keep drowining in his eyes or getting pulled in by the movement of his hands as he speaks. Listening to his voice is like gently floating down like a river. I don’t even notice when he’s stopped talking.

“What about you?”

“Hmm?” I pull myself out of my daze, trying not to look as enchanted by him as I feel.

“Oh uhh, nothing to tell really.” I shrug, picking up my coffe, hoping he’ll change the subject while I sip on my caramel latte.

“I find that hard to believe. What do you do?”

“I just run a small cafe in town.”

I feel as though hearing about my life is about as interesting as watching water boil, but Spencer could have fooled me. He looks genuinely invested as I tell him about how I earned my bachelors and masters in business management, eventually opening up The Cottage. I didn’t have any experience in the food industry, but my friend Nicole had immediately been on board with the idea of coming on as my cook.

“It sounds wonderful. I’ll definitely have to stop by sometime.” He smiles at me before sipping on the last of his second cup of coffee.

“You’re welcome to bring Alice, only if you want to. And Nicole makes a killer risotto!”

“Of course! ...Oh! I knew we were forgetting something. Alice!”

“The entire reason you asked me here, just a minor detail.” I can’t help but snicker at our absent mindedness, how easy it was to be completely swept away in the tide that was Spencer Reid.

His face fades a bit, though I’m not sure why. He simply nods, folding his hands in his lap.

“Sorry if this is weird but umm... can I see a picture of her? It’s just, well, it might help me to get a better idea. You don’t have to, if it makes you uncomfortable.”

“Oh yeah!”He pulls out his wallet, unfolding a long strand of small photos, most of just his daughter, a few featuring him as well.

She was beautiful, brown eyed girl with soft, brown locks. She clearly had her fathers curly hair and soft, doe eyes. If it wasn’t obvious from the way he spoke about her, the pictures made it incredibly apparent that this girl was his whole world. Pure joy radiated from the photo of the two of them. I look up to to see the exact same look on his face, with a smile so big that his eyes crinkle.

That is the moment I knew he had me. I would follow this man anywhere, this adorable dad I had met on the toy isle only hours ago. The photos made it evident that she was just as crazy about him. It was almost too adorable for my heart to handle.

I take a deep breath before meeting his gaze, which is much closer now as we lean in over the table to look at the pictures.

“She’s beautiful.”

He looks down at the photos again with glassy eyes. “I know.”

He clears his throat and scoots back into his seat.

“So what did you have in mind?”

“Well, I have seen this online story that makes really pretty hand-made dresses that mimic the ones of each Disney Princess. Maybe a couple of her favorites? They also make knit blankets that look like mermaid tales. Or maybe a stuffed animal of one of her favorite characters? What little kid doesn’t like stuffed animals, right?”

Spencer nods along, absorbing all the suggestions I throw his way. After awhile, I help him settle on ordering a few we both like.

“I can’t wait to give these to her! She always loves Christmas morning. We open presents together and eat the cookies we made the night before while binging as many Christmas movies as possible.”

There was that smile again, the one he got when he talked about her. I wonder if she knows how lucky she is to have a dad that cares so much.

I can’t help but smile as well at the thought, which he quickly interrupted with “So what are your Christmas plans?”

I feel myself turning slightly red at the embarrassment of having to admit that I have none. Nothing much that is.

I shrug, hoping he won’t ask any more about it.

“Do you get to see your family?”

And there it was. The question I was desperately hoping to avoid. I know my inability to meet his gaze and consistent pulling at my fingers would be a dead give away of my uncertainty about speaking on the subject. I search for the best way to answer without seeming like I’m overcome with self pity. To be fair, I wasn’t. I didn’t mind spending the holidays alone. Not anymore. I had grown comfortable with the silence and comfort that comes from living alone.

The soft crackling of the fire, a fuzzy blanket, and a warm cup of hot chocolate had become my closest companions of each winter season. I spent many evenings curled up by the window, watching the snow dust the city as soft music flowed through my drafty, top floor apartment. Sometimes I’d dance and twirl around in my pajamas and socks, slipping and sliding on the wood floors. So yes, it was safe to say I truly enjoyed the time I spent getting to know myself.

“I uh, they’re not really around anymore. I was adopted by my parents when I was still a baby. They didn’t have any family but each other and then, well, me. I lost them to a car crash a few years back.”

I can tell he’s listening, but the one thing I always expect to see isn’t there. Pity. Instead I see kindness and understanding, and my heart welcomes it fully.

“Nicole is on vacation with her family for the holidays so it’s just me. I’m pretty used to it though, I make my own fun.” I give him smile to reinforce my point.

His eyes glaze over and I can tell I’ve lost him to a deep thought, as I see the gears turning in his head. He opens his mouth to speak before closing it again, and finally spouting out: “Come have dinner with us. On Christmas Eve.”

I had half expected a pity invite. A “why don’t you”. A “would you like to”. But Spencer hadn’t asked me. He had told me, in a way that left no room for arguing. I could tell he wasn’t going to budge on the matter. Whether it was the insistent but kind tone or the seriousness in his eyes, I don’t know. But I knew there was no use in fighting it. Not just the invitation, but the feelings quickly flooding my heart. Spencer Reid was like a fast approaching storm, but I didn’t want to outrun the rain. I wanted to dance in it, drenched in the downpour.

And that’s exactly what I did. As soon as I saw the look on his face when I said yes, it crashed over me like a wave, leaving me breathless and lost in the sea of my emotions.

#dr spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer x reader #original story #spencer reid x y/n #writing #Christmas #single dad #dad Spencer #Spencer and daughter #Spencer #Spencer Reid #spencer x y/n #Spencer x gn #Christmas shopping #fluff

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