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killltheidol · 2 months
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🕰️ ˖ ࣪ εïз ⬦        REJECTS DISCOGRAPHY.
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εïз ⬦        REJECTS is often called the brainchild of the now deceased and former Angelico CEO, Son Jinhwa, as he produced and composed all of their music. He also acted as the group's creative director until his departure from the company.
Originally starting off with a soft and sweet concept, Rejects would debut with the mini album "Jukebox Hits" and its accompanying title track, Dance On. The group would gain attention for being a female-heavy co-ed group with three female members and only two male members. The attention also came from members Sunhee and Miyu, both being members of previously failed Angelico groups. The public also enjoyed the softer concept, something that hadn't been seen in K-pop for a long time.
The group's popularity would take off with COPYCAT, their second mini album with a title track under the same name. The group would catch the public eye due to them all dying their hair bleached blond and wearing matching outfits for the entirety of their promotional period. They would snag their first win with this song and gain a sizable fanbase thanks to the unique sound and concept.
HYPEboy would act as the group's first single and only heighten their popularity, introducing the group to international audiences as the song would chart on the Billboard Hot 100. Despite the success in the West, REJECTS would adamantly refuse to tour or promote overseas, which was strange to fans as two of the five members, Reid and Aiden, were from America. Despite this, HYPEboy would become their most awarded track with over 7 music show wins and multiple SOTY nominations.
Their last project as a five-piece would be their third mini album, Water Slides, with the title track FLIP THAT. Flip That performed well but could not live up to the success of HYPEboy. Not like it mattered much anyway, as three weeks into their promotions, their former leader Sunhee would be found dead, only being able to be identified by dental records.
The groups, releasing very few statements about the loss, would go on a year-long hiatus where they would regroup and rebrand.
REJECTS reappeared in 2021 with eight members: Reid, Jieun, Aiden, Miyu, Hanbin, Love, Jisu, and Bea. The soft concept was seemingly dropped for a more mature and darker concept while still keeping a light and easy sound to their music. They reentered the scene with their first full album, "The Diary of a Lost Cause," with the title track Loving Me. Loving Me would prove to be a success, with the music video causing a stir as the members were very touchy during it, which would become a theme throughout their music videos.
After Loving Me came Ditto, which was a repackable of The Diary of a Lost Cause. Ditto would absolutely destroy any chart it managed to find itself on. Korea, America, Europe, Japan, Thailand––This song was everywhere, and everyone was obsessed with it and the music video for it. Ditto would break their previous record of 7 music show wins and gain 17 music show wins for the group and win them Song Of The Year at MAMA, making them the first co-ed group to win in a major category.
Either way, a mini album with a title track of the same name would not live up to the success of Ditto but would mark the first time Rejects would travel overseas to promote their music, mainly promoting in Europe, Japan, and Southeast Asia with only a few stops in America which rang weird to fans as a majority of the group was American. Still, their success was undeniable.
Sensitive, a controversial track amongst fans, came with a sudden member change. In the midst of promotions, Jisu would just vanish from the lineup and be replaced with Ash, a former Cicada member. There was never an official statement from Jisu or Angelico on the matter. They just continued on as if nothing happened. This left a weird taste in fans' mouths, but their worries were washed away when their creative director, Son Jinhwa, explained that this move is a part of the group's evergrowing lore. Jisu would make a public appearance again to assure fans that this was the plan all along and that he knew this was coming. Strangely, Jisu would make no other public appearances after this, and his social media would go dark. He hasn't been publicly heard from since 2022.
Marking their first comeback without Jinhwa with their second full album, "The Scratch At The Door," its title track, "Oh My God," would captivate audiences everywhere thanks to its provocative music video and even more provocative lyrics. The song, though immensely popular, would be heavily censored on music shows and sometimes outright banned. This only seemed to draw people towards the group, keeping them on their toes for their next comeback.
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toomuchracket · 11 months
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OKAY SIS HEAR ME OUT! flatmate!matty scenario where they've spent the first couple of nights cuddled up together and it's been very hot and intimate, no kissing or sex though. the reader is obviously worked up af when they wake up because matty is just holding her TIGHT and whispering sweet nothings to her ear all morning and it's just so sexy and does not help her horny state at all. she wants to take a shower before breakfast so matty suggests that he'd be more than happy to prepare the breakfast while she's in the shower. he's so cute asking her what she wants to have and making a very detailed mental list about her wishes. so she goes to take the shower and her entire body is just ACHING for matty so she starts touching herself while she's in there and of course, matty has some sort of a question about what fruits she wants to have with her yoghurt and goes ask her that but hears the shower run and her MOANING and whimpering behind the door so he's like oh-......OH!!! he rushes back to the kitchen cause he doesn't want to be a perv (it's way too early to ask if she need any help with what she's up to). she finishes herself and the shower and goes to the kitchen in matty's robe, all fresh and cute and matty triple checks if he got her breakfast wishes right and she's like oh yes, babe it's perfect <3 and then he admits to her that he came to ask what sort of fruits she'd wanted to have with her yoghurt but heard the shower already run so he didn't want to bother her and just added every fruit he could think of (which she finds so cute cause there's almost more fruits than the yoghurt itself). she realises matty heard her touching herself while moaning his name and her cheeks start heating up and so does matty's and they're just so cute and shy about it. neither one of them brings it up, however, until they actually have sex. idk i'm sorry this is so long but WHAT DO YOU THINK OMG!
i think this is incred and if you wrote it i would read it!!
but yeah like idk how you two do it - you share a bed with matty all the time and then wake up and have deeply intimate chats while snuggling him and you're NOT a couple??? madness. it does get to you - you wake up h word (which is a normal thing btw) in matty's bed one morning and you're literally clenching every muscle in your body to stop yourself moaning and/or grinding on him involuntarily while he's all gravelly-voiced and sleepy and pliable and messy-haired and warm and almost-fucking-NAKED spooning you. so you're like "is it cool if i have the shower first?" just to escape the sitch and matty's like "of course darlin', i'll get started on breakfast while you're in. what d'you fancy? still got some of that honey left from when you had that awful hayfever (a.n. look at me with my easter eggs! taylor jenkins reid found d*ed! that was a joke btw), maybe something with that?", and you're like oh shit i'm horny AND lovesick for him i am going to die ANYWAY "iced coffee, yoghurt and some honey mixed in with fruit at the side, please, babe". and matty's like "ooh. raspberries? strawberries? blueberries? kiwi?" literally listing everything you bought in your aldi haul yesterday lol, and you make your decision and matty literally repeats it back to you totally seriously to make sure it's right (like the former chinese-restaurant delivery boy he is lmao) and goes "ok sweetheart you hop in the shower and i'll start assembling it", and you're like "perfect thank you babe i won't be long!". but then when he's in the kitchen, matty gets so distracted thinking about how cute you are that he's like "wait. did she want raspberries or strawberries?" and scoots along to the bathroom to ask, but stops dead in his tracks when he hears you WHINING his name and swearing over the sound of the shower - bless you, it all got too much for you and you literally had no choice but to use that removeable showerhead on yourself to relieve the desire a bit. i think matty's first thought would be a very horny mental image of you all naked and soapy and sexual, but then he's like oh fuck ew i'm not a creep not a weirdo but what the hell am i doing here i can't ask her about her fruit choices now and heads back to the kitchen, where he makes an executive decision to put raspberries in your breakfast and tries not to imagine what you were doing to yourself (he fails miserably). and like you said, you wander in looking very relaxed (😉) and cute in a robe you stole from matty (who stole it from a hotel) and go "ooh this looks amazing!" and matty's like "you're sure i did it right? with the raspberries?", and you're like "yes? we double checked it?" and matty goes all bashful like "i got distracted and forgot what it was you said lol i did go to the bathroom to try and catch you pre-shower to ask, but i could hear the water when i got closer so i just left it". and at first you're like "aww" and then internally you're like OH SHIT HE HEARD ME MOAN HIS NAME and yeah breakfast is a little bit quieter that morning than usual lol. and yeah, i think matty would ABSOLUTELY take the piss a little bit when he eventually reveals he heard you that day, and you facepalm and almost die of embarrassment - that is, until matty appeases you by asking you to shower with him and show him what you were getting up to that morning, which you happily do before he rails you over the bathroom counter lol <3
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smurphyse · 2 years
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Booger
Masterlist
Chapter 6 of Over Your Shoulder
Pairing: Spencer Reid x Jasper Donnelly Keaton (Long Lost Love AU)
Word Count: ~10k (WHOOPS)
Summary: The following day at the B&B! and then on to the station! Don't worry, after this chapter we're leaving Alabama and delving into the plot finally <3
Warnings: Talks of Torture/violence. There is a scene with a dog that attacks a character, but nothing happens and the dog is NOT hurt!
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Animal House, Georgetown, USA- 15 years ago
“C’mon, kid,” Derek laughed as he pulled Spencer into the college bar, “All of these girls are your age, maybe you’ll get lucky.”
Spencer was still in the academy, but had already begun some of his work within various units in the FBI. Derek Morgan was one of his training officers and was working with him in his profiler training. He insisted on bringing him ‘out for a night on the town.’
Spencer didn’t want to go.
He didn’t like going to places like this. It was too busy, too loud, and he was too out of place. He somehow felt like a fly on the wall and the focus of the freakshow all at once. He didn’t like to drink much, and he definitely didn’t like to dance, so there was no point in him even being there.
“Girls there are smart. You wear that Caltech sweater of yours and you’ll get laid in no time,” Derek said, clapping an uncomfortable Spencer on the shoulder.
“But I don’t really care about ‘getting laid,’” he said, using air quotes, “I have this book I got at the Carl Sagan lecture I went t-”
“Kid, kid,” Derek hushed, “You gotta get outta that pretty little head of yours and meet some people your own age.”
He gave Derek a pleading look, but ultimately was forced into coming. Derek all but shoved the CALTECH emblazoned sweater over Spencer’s button up, then mussed up his hair like he was a toddler.
“Perfect. Let’s go, genius.”
So, there he was, standing awkwardly with a horrible drink in his hand while Derek talked up a group of co-eds next to the bar.
It was a relatively small place, packed to the edges with students and military personnel on leave. Cigarette smoke wafted through the air, and it made him itch for one himself. He was trying to quit smoking, it was a terrible habit. Even his mother, in her often distant state, noticed the smell, no matter how many showers he’d had or how many times he washed his clothes before visiting. She always knew.
A group huddled around the pool table, joking and laughing around a stack of beer glasses and cans. Others milled about the walls and chatted. Everyone seemed coupled up besides him.
He wouldn’t normally mind, but Derek was his ride home, and it looked more and more like Spencer would be taking the bus by the way he was flirting with one of the girls.
A set of booths lined one wall, a variety of couples sitting in them and chatting. From where he stood Spencer could see a pretty girl sitting alone at one, dark untamed hair poofing around her shoulders. She looked bored, adjusting her large glasses with one hand while she twisted a whiskey tumbler with the other.
Maybe Derek was right, maybe he should try and meet some new people. He really didn’t care too much about ‘getting laid,’ as Derek put it, but he definitely wouldn’t mind if it happened. Especially with someone as cute as her. It had been a while.
Just as he thought about going over there she looked up at him, big brown eyes meeting his and holding him in place. She gave him a polite smile, blushing a sweet shade of red before turning back to her drink.
“Alright, baby, here we go,” a man said behind him, scooting around Spencer with two drinks in his hands. He sat down at the booth with the woman, handing her one of the shot glasses. She didn’t look too excited about the drinks, but she flashed Spencer an apologetic smile before she took it.
Spencer turned away from them. Oh well, at least that ended before he managed to get himself punched. The man with her was large, not as tall as Spencer, but well-muscled and heavily tattooed with a nose that looked like it had been broken a few times. His dark hair was cropped tight on the sides, the middle left a little longer and curly.
He’d probably die if he took a hit from that guy. No thank you.
He people-watched for another hour or so, only half listening to whatever Derek was spewing at the girl he had his arm around. Spencer eventually decided he should go off on his own, a little tired of hearing Derek’s macho flirting.
He turned on his heel without looking and slammed into a waitress and her full tray of drinks. She let go of the tray to steady herself, dumping it’s entire contents on the small woman from the booth, who had been walking toward the door. The man with her side-stepped the whole thing, bursting into laughter as the whole bar seemed to focus in on the commotion.
Her grey Marines shirt was soaked through with various brightly colored alcohols, her curly hair drenched at the ends. She took off her glasses and shook them off, her mouth open in shock as Spencer’s face melted under a beet red blush.
“What. The. Fuck,” she growled, turning her anger to Spencer. Her dark eyes filled with rage as he looked down at her. Had the look on her face not been so fierce, he might have thought it comical how angry this tiny woman was, teeth bared and wild hair flying around her shoulders, barely coming up to his chest. The waitress took one look at her and scurried off to the back.
“I, shit . I am so- I’m so sorry,” Spencer sputtered, his hands clenching tightly at his sides as he tried to come up with some reasoning for destroying her clothes. Derek had turned around, watching the whole thing in amusement as Spencer stuttered. He could see him out of the corner of his eye, laughing to himself.
“This is my favorite shirt,” she grumbled, half-heartedly wiping the excess liquid down her body. Her nipples poked through the thin fabric, and Spencer felt his chest flutter a bit when he noticed that they were most definitely pierced.
Her friend was still laughing, his hands on his knees. He straightened a bit, reaching his hand out and clapping Spencer on the shoulder, “Thank you for that. Seriously, thank you. That was the funniest shit I’ve seen in months.”
“You’re an asshole, Jack,” she seethed, glaring at both of them as though they were in cahoots.
“Oh, Jasper,” he sighed happily, “you look like a drowned poodle.”
“Well…” Spencer offered, trying to ease the tension that was building up his spine. He was dangerously close to imploding. “I think you look just as good wet as you did before.”
The man, Jack, burst into laughter again, as did Derek behind him. Spencer’s jaw snapped shut as he realized what he said, while the woman took a predatory step forward.
“Shit, no. That’s not what I meant. Here,” he said, pulling off his sweater and holding it out to her. “Something dry to change into. I’m so sorry.”
She snatched it from his hands, her little jaw set tightly in place. She watched him for a moment, a look he would later recognize as her sizing him up, “What’s your name, Stick? ”
“Dr. Spencer Reid,” Derek chuckled, coming to stand next to Spencer. He put a protective hand on his shoulder, letting him know he was there now that he’d gotten his amusement out of the situation.
“Spencer,” she said, pointing a finger at him with the hand clutching his sweater, “I’m gonna remember that.”
She turned and stalked off toward the bathrooms, flipping off her friend as she went. He stayed behind laughing. He wiped his eyes as he turned toward the other two men. He had a smile that put you at ease, and a laugh that made you want to laugh with him, but Spencer couldn’t muster it. He was horrified at himself.
“That was fucking beautiful.” He thrust his hand out to a mortified Spencer, “Jack Keaton. It was nice to meet you before you died.”
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Americana Inn, Ellison, Alabama- 4:52 a.m., Present Day
Jasper’s eyes flew open, her chest heaving as she launched herself upwards and onto her knees. Sweat poured off her in waves, her brain trying to catch up with her body as she scanned the room around her for details.
Nightstand, dresser, mirror on top of dresser.
Bathroom door- open, east facing door- closed, probably an exit.
Table- badge, gun, phone.
Badge, gun, phone.
Badge.
Alabama. The FBI. She was in fucking Alabama in a stupid B&B looking for a serial killer… with goddamned Spencer Reid.
After coming in from the porch, Jasper had collapsed on the floor of her room. She spent a few minutes letting the tears stream down her face in silence before she heard Spencer’s footsteps outside the door.
Jasper knew it was him. He shuffled nervously for a few minutes, mumbling to himself too quietly for her to hear whatever he was saying. She held her breath, listening until she heard his door open and shut.
She’d dragged herself over to the bed, pulled the covers over her head and fell into a fitful, sweaty sleep for a few hours, only to be woken by another memory.
She was still coughing. As soon as she cleared her throat, another cough hit. She watched the blood spray against the wall every time another sob wracked her body.
Blood trickled down her arms and along the sides of her neck. She had long since given up on trying to hold herself up, instead letting the full weight of her body hang on the wires securing her wrists to the piping.
The blood that had pooled over her shoulders was beginning to dry, painfully crusting and pinching her skin when she moved. Her eyes were sluggish, closing and opening slowly as she tried to stay conscious.
It was no use, she was dying. She was going to die here. After everything, she was going to die in a drug den in fucking Texas.
She might as well be her mother. This might as well be the trailer she grew up in.
“Baby,” a voice came suddenly, next to her and worried. She hadn’t heard anyone come in. Her eyes fluttered open, and she began struggling against the hands that cupped her face.
She had nothing, nothing but the inability to die quietly, so she snapped her jaws at the warmth in front of her, trying to catch flesh and tear. She’d leave them something to remember her by.
“Baby, stop!” a voice pleaded as the pressure around her wrists eased. Her arms flopped uselessly at her sides, the pain beginning anew as blood rushed back to them, only to flow back out of her open wounds.
She fell limply into someone’s arms. She could see the bones sticking through her skin, and she sickly wondered if she could use them as weapons against whoever was manhandling her.
“I’m gonna take you home, Sugar, I’m gonna get you safe.”
She knew that voice.
“Jack?”
Jasper ripped back the covers. She couldn’t stay here. She needed to get out, run, run, run.
She pulled on a sports bra and some running shorts before tugging on her Nike’s. She jogged down the stairs, trying to keep as quiet as possible, but also hurrying to avoid anyone else who might not be able to sleep at five in the morning.
As soon as the front door to the hotel shut behind her, she sprinted off. She could stretch later, but now she needed to go.
The B&B’s yard was expansive. The grass could have used a mowing, but she relished the dew brushing against her ankles as she set off toward the woods. The hot early morning sun filtered through the trees, setting the yard ablaze with streams of glittering haze as it peeked over the horizon. The birds chirped as they zipped back and forth across the sky, and she felt her heart lift a little watching them.
She hit the trees at a sprint, beelining for the small path she had noticed when they arrived yesterday. She didn’t know where it was going to lead, but she didn’t care. If it took her off a cliff, she just might just swan dive down to the bottom.
She hated running before. After she lost the ability to walk for months because of Wren’s bullet, she took up running just to take advantage of her legs. It took a long time for her to be able to run with the tight and efficient form she had now, but that’s what over ten years of near daily practice got you- perfection.
There was no limp in her step anymore, she didn’t struggle to breathe as she pushed herself harder, faster, further.
Keep going until your legs collapse and your lungs start comin’ out of your nose, Sugar. Keep going until you forget. Until your body hurts more than your mind.
Memories. The ones she’d hidden away years ago kept bubbling to the surface ever since she set foot in the States two days ago.
There was no use in trying to run from memories, from pain. She had learned that long ago. It always caught back up with you. It always found you. All you can do is make new pain to ease the old.
Just like Spencer Reid, catching up with her. She walked out of his door fourteen years ago and hadn’t looked back, running from the pain he caused her by getting herself shot, stabbed, blown up, beaten with a bat . Yet, here he was, in the room next to her, touching her in the hot night and setting her skin aflame.
Jasper wished Jack was here. She wished she could just call him up and ask him what to do. He’d probably tell her to stick it out, to think about the good parts of dating Spencer, and not the parts that had shredded her to pieces.
Spencer had almost killed her, and still, his hand resting on her neck the night before had felt like a safe haven. She wanted to lean against it, wanted to have him hold her like that all night long.
You can’t trust him, especially not with something so fragile as your scabbed torn up excuse for a heart. He was so careless with it a decade and a half ago, what’s to stop him from hurting you again?
That’s what love is, isn’t it? You hand someone a knife, hold it to your own throat and tell them where to cut you, how to bleed you like a pig. The real danger is in trusting them not to. Trust is more important than love.
Spencer had pulled a part of her to light that she thought was gone. She had lost most of her hope years before, when Sam died, and then a little more when Eli found her, took her to Church and ripped the rest of it out of her tired body. She thought she had died in that place, but Spencer had shown her that a piece of the old Jasper survived, and that some of the girl that Sam had loved was still there.
She had trusted him not to cut her, but he did anyway. He did it so efficiently, it was as though the thinnest, sharpest blade sliced right through her heart in a single swipe, and then everything fell to pieces. All the blood rushed out of her.
Maybe she finally died that night.
Maybe she had been a ghost ever since, wandering the Earth in search of the life that had been stolen from her time and time again.
Jasper eventually rounded back to the edge of the property, the house coming back into sight as her chest began to ache. She could see a figure sitting on one of the rocking chairs on the porch.
It was Luke, holding a coffee cup and sipping from it. He lifted one from the table next to him and held it out for her as she climbed the stairs. He didn’t flinch at her scars, didn’t even look twice at them. He had seen them all before.
“Heard you take off like a bat out of hell,” he yawned, swiping a hand across his chin, “thought you could use this when you came back.”
“Mmm,” she grunted as she took the mug. Jasper leaned against the railing across from his seat, taking a sip of the coffee and avoiding his gaze. The dew from the grass began drying on her ankles and socks, the morning sun warming her back as she glared into the dark liquid.
“Luke, I can’t do this.”
“Can’t do what?” he asked, but the look on his face when she glanced up at him told her that he knew exactly what she was talking about.
“This job,” she said quietly. She trusted Luke, she really did. Jasper had done nothing but lie to him ever since she met him, but she really did trust him with her life. She almost felt guilty for lying so much to someone who cared about her as much as Luke did.
“Did you love him?”
“No,” she lied.
Luke nodded, taking another drag from his cup, “For a minute I really thought you wanted to work for the BAU.”
Jasper looked up at him, her mouth set in a grim line. Now she didn’t feel so bad.
“I do.”
“Why are you here, Jasper?” he asked, his tone laced with annoyance and disbelief.
“I told you. I wanted a change.” Never give in. Always stick to the lie, always stick to the cover. There’ll come a day when the lie is the only weapon you have to protect yourself, Sugar, and if there’s even the smallest crack in your cover, you ain’t makin’ it out alive.
Luke leaned forward in his chair, his shoulders rounding and tense as he rested his elbows on his knees. She steeled herself, his pose threatening her comfortability, her upper hand.
“I’ve always trusted you, Jasper,” he began, clenching his jaw in between sentences, his frustration bubbling to the surface. “Always.”
“I understand that in Iraq, over there , you had to lie to me. I was a Ranger, I was there to be your support team, not to be your supervisor. It wasn’t my job to know what your job was. It was my job to make sure you got where you needed to go, and that you came back.
“Even when you went into a building and came out covered in blood and brains and bruises, I knew you were doing something you had to, and I didn’t need to know what that was.”
He pointed to her scars angrily as he spoke. “Even when Jack showed up at my place at two o’clock in the morning and dragged me to a crack house in Dallas to find you beaten within an inch of your life, I didn’t ask why.”
“What’s your point, Luke?” She watched him with pointed disinterest, keeping her features calm and schooled though inside she was bristling.
“ I trust you. Even now. You don’t have to tell me why you’re here,” he sighed, “I know it’s got nothin’ to do with me, but these are good people. They’re not throw-aways like we were in the desert. These people, Jasper? They see for a living. All they do is theorize, observe, think . Eventually they’ll wonder why you’re here, and Spencer is just going to be another wrench in whatever plan you have.”
“Point?” she asked again, her jaw tight and her back coiled, ready to lash out if needed.
“ I don’t know what happened between you and Spencer, but the way you’re eyeing each other? That’s not something that’s just going to go away.”
“I’m leaving the BAU, Luke. I can’t move on with my life if he’s here. I can’t get the change I need around him,” she lied again. Never give in, never give up the lie, even when you’re caught. Especially when you’re caught. “I want to have a life here.”
“Fine. You want a change. You want a home. This is what you’re looking for,” Luke smiled smugly at her, “I’m not helping you leave the BAU.”
“What?” she growled dangerously, standing up straight from the railing. Luke rose from his chair, crossing his arms and looking down at her, his jaw set and his gaze full of steel.
“You’ll never admit it, but you trust me. You trusted me to have your back in a war-zone, and I’m asking you to trust me again. Get to know these people. If you ever decide you need help with whatever mission you’re on, this is the team that’s gonna get it done. I’ve got your back, just like I did in Iraq.
“And maybe, when you’re done causing whatever murder and mayhem you have planned, you’ll settle back down. Maybe with Dr. Reid in there. Make a baby or two, have a life. After everything he’s been through, God only knows he deserves it. You do, too.”
Jasper’s mask of emotional detachment dropped in an instant, “What the hell do you mean, ‘all he’s been through?’”
Luke shrugged, “It’s not my place to talk to you about that, Jasper.”
“Is he…” she started, bringing her free hand up to rub her forehead, “is he at least… okay?”
“He’s doing a lot better than he has any right to, considering.”
She thought about that for a moment as her chest tightened painfully. She never wanted anything bad to happen to Spencer. In fact, all Jasper ever wanted to do was protect him. He had said he wanted to do the same but still he was the one who went and...
Fuck that. Fuck him. Fuck them both.
“I’m not on a mission,” she said, putting the mask back on. Back to the matter at hand, getting out of the BAU.
“You’re a talented liar, Jasper. The best I’ve ever seen,” Luke shrugged, throwing his hands up in defeat, “I’m gonna keep on trusting that you’re here because you have something important to do. But don’t you dare use your history with him to back out of this. You got a job to do? Get it done. Figure your shit out with Spencer and move on.”
They stared at one another for a few moments. It was the first time she’d seriously thought about killing Luke Alvez.
Not really. Well, not completely. More like, incapacitate so he can’t fucking look at her like that anymore. Like he knew her.
He didn’t know shit.
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Spencer did not sleep.
He had been in complete shock when he saw Jasper’s scars. The protective part of him that tried to hold her broken pieces together so long ago had lurched out of his chest without his permission.
He hadn’t meant to touch her. In fact, he had made a mental note not to. Her skin was seething hot, and he wouldn’t have been surprised if his hands had molded to her soft skin.
God, she was soft.
Even with all her cracked and sharp edges, Jasper was soft. He still burned from where he’d touched her. His hand slid up her neck so easily, resting under her jaw with practiced ease and comfort, his fingers tracing that scar on her thigh without any hesitation, just trying to soothe.
Fourteen years. He had gone fourteen years without touching Jasper Donn- Keaton.
It was like coming home.
It was like she never left him.
Back then, she had always relaxed under his touch, sighed deeply and melted into his arms. Hours ago she had stiffened up, her whole body turning rock solid and tense as he touched her. That deer in the headlights look haunted him.
Was it his touch that had frightened her? Was it his touch? Was it his touch?
He didn’t want to think about that.
He had hurt her, he knew that. After what he did, Spencer was lucky Jasper hadn’t slapped him for daring to put his hands on her. He was lucky all she’d done was pull away and leave him on the porch with his mind racing.
What happened to her? He didn’t have the right to ask her. He didn’t have the privilege of knowing anything about her anymore.
Jasper moved to his lap on the couch, her strong thighs cradling his hips as she ground down against him. She muttered to herself in between kisses, about how stupid it was that he wore shirts like this in the first place, how he didn’t need this many buttons.
Finally he slapped away her hands and unbuttoned them himself, smiling against her mouth as she huffed in annoyance.
“I could’ve gotten it off myself,” she grumbled, running her hands over his chest as he tugged the shirt off his shoulders.
“Yeah, in a decade,” he laughed, kissing her again as he reached for the hem of her t-shirt.
She stopped him, resting her hands over his and squeezing once. Spencer looked up at her, moving his hands to her thighs, giving her a light squeeze back as she nervously held his gaze.
“I didn’t come back from Iraq because my tour ended,” she said quietly, her voice hardly above a whisper.
He didn’t want to ask, didn’t want to push her. The few times he had asked about her time over there she had changed the subject. He only nodded, moving one hand to cup her jaw and trace light circles behind her ear. She leaned into his palm, sighing softly.
“I have… a scar.” Jasper’s voice shook a bit as she tugged on the edges of her shirt, “It’s not pretty.”
“It’s yours,” Spencer whispered back. He leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to the tip of her nose, smiling when it scrunched up. “It’s beautiful.”
Jasper said nothing, her eyes searching for any hint of uncertainty. He had none. He knew he would love every piece of her body, scarred or not. He didn’t need to know what happened to know that.
She pulled her shirt over her shoulders slowly, clutching the fabric to her chest when her arms came down. She grabbed one of his hands from her thigh and pressed it against her chest.
He gasped when he felt it. It was big. He could feel the raised skin, hard and hotter than the rest of her under his touch. Spencer lightly tugged the shirt away from her chest so he could see the scar properly.
He smiled as it fell away, happy to know his hunch about her nipples being pierced was right. He placed a kiss between her breasts, smiling once more as she sighed and leaned into him.
The scar was big. It ripped from her ribs in a jagged line around to her back, smaller healed rips in her soft skin peppered around the biggest parts of it. An explosion? That made sense to him. What happens to soldiers? They get blown up with IEDs.
“Told you,” Spencer said, leaning down and kissing her ribs. She sucked in a breath as she watched him, and he just grinned back at her. “Beautiful.”
“You’re a sap, Stick.”
“That might be true,” he laughed, “but I’m always right.”
He stood suddenly, earning him a yelp as Jasper wrapped her legs around his waist. He walked into the bedroom and dropped her on the bed. She leaned back on her arms as she watched him unbuckle his pants and drop them.
Her wild hair flew around her shoulders as she hurried to pull hers down. She kicked them off, leaning back once more as Spencer admired her.
“Now,” he said, hooking his hands underneath her knees and tugging her toward him, “let’s see just how right I was about you looking good wet .”
Spencer scrubbed his face with his hands and sighed. He didn’t want to think about this, about how good things used to be. In the beginning they were happy. They were totally and completely in love with each other from the first- well, the second day they met.
The first night he met her he’d been terrified of her, but the very next day… that had been different.
Spencer had been hurrying to a profiling class when he heard a voice call his name. He’d turned, and there stood Jasper, still wearing his CALTECH crewneck, a pair of tight jeans and some Chucks, looking like she hadn’t slept all night.
She flashed him a tired smile, a cigarette in one hand as she leaned against a building. Sleepless bruises stained into her warm skin under her glasses. The sweatshirt hung halfway down her thighs, and she had the sleeves cuffed at the wrists so they wouldn’t hang over her hands.
If he thought she was pretty the night before, in the haze of the bar, she was stunning in the morning. The orange light from the rising run bounced off her curls, revealing a depth in the color he hadn’t noticed before. Her sleepy grin sent a warmth pooling down his spine, and suddenly he was glad he was such a klutz.
You ain’t getting this back, Stick.
I was gonna say, you should keep it. It looks better on you.
That was the first time he’d ever skipped a class. Derek had been furious with him until he told him that he’d managed to talk her into breakfast at Moe’s, even though he had just left there twenty minutes before. Derek listened with a big grin on his face as Spencer recalled their impromptu date.
He watched her make a little house with her waffles and some toothpicks, while he showed off his building prowess with a pancake hut of his own. The owner, Maureen “Moe'' McArthur, had been thrilled to see Spencer there with someone, and told Jasper she was tired of seeing him reading in the booth alone, much to Spencer’s embarrassment.
Jasper had smiled sweetly and asked for more stories, grinning as Moe prattled on. He watched her from across the booth, thinking about how he never wanted to eat pancakes again if it didn’t include an architectural adventure with Jasper.
Derek was proud, but told Spencer never to ditch class again, or he’d track him down and really embarrass him.
That had been a good day.
Spencer decided now was as good a time as any to get out of bed. He showered quickly and made his way downstairs, only to find the team standing in the dining room. They all were facing the windows, craning their necks to look out onto the porch.
“What are you guys doing?” he asked as he made his way into the room, looking around the buffet table for the coffee.
“Looks like the Wonder Twins aren’t getting along,” Rossi said over his coffee mug, pointing out the window.
Spencer moved to see Luke and Jasper standing on the porch. Jasper’s jaw was tight, her eyes narrowed as Luke spoke to her, standing tall with his arms crossed over his chest. Her anger seemed to drop off her face at one point, a look of shock taking over her usually stoic features.
The team scurried to look casual when Luke and Jasper came inside, chatting idly and sipping their drinks as they hit their seats. Spencer turned to the coffee pot and poured himself a cup without thinking.
Jasper came up next to him, holding her cup out for a refill. She glanced over to his mug, her brows knitting together as he filled hers.
“Since when do you drink your coffee black?” she asked.
Shit. He had been so busy trying to look busy that he hadn’t put any sugar or cream into his mug. Welp , he decided, can’t tell her I was watching her on the porch like a creep. He picked up the cup and took a sip, trying to school his features as the bitter liquid hit his taste buds.
Disgusting.
“Whenever the feeling hits, I guess,” he shrugged.
Jasper watched him take another drink, a smile playing along her lips. He scrunched up his nose at the taste. Black coffee really was the worst.
“I saw you guys spying from the window,” she laughed, her shoulders shaking as she watched him try to choke it down.
“Then why are you giving me grief?” he grinned, a bit proud of the way her eyes crinkled when she smiled at him. He finally grabbed the sugar and dumped it into the damned cup.
“Stick, you’ve never been able to fake nonchalance. It’s good to know some things never change.”
“Alright, maybe I was distracted. You’re not wearing any clothes,” he said, motioning to her scantily clad body, trying to ignore the scars that sent a violent shock down his spine when he saw them. She looked down, like she’d forgotten she was only in a sports bra and shorts.
“Not like you haven’t seen it before,” she shrugged, as though last night never happened, as though his reaction hadn’t been what sent her running back inside. She avoided his gaze, looking into her cup instead, but she didn’t move away.
“You look pretty much the same,” he said, chewing on the inside of his lip. This was so damn awkward. Would this ever not be?
“You don’t,” she said quietly, finally looking up at him. She only came up to his chest. He didn’t know why the thought always tickled him, it’s not like she was going to grow , but he liked the fact that she was still so small compared to him. “You grew up, Stick. Well, you’re not really a stick anymore, are ya?”
Spencer patted his belly, a little self-conscious. He’d bulked up a bit, finally taking up working out after leaving prison, never wanting to feel that vulnerable again. He’d never tell Derek, but he enjoyed lifting weights, but that probably had to do with the fact that Luke was more fun to exercise with than ‘Give-Me-One-More-Pretty-Boy’ Morgan
“I didn’t mean like that, you goober,” she chuckled, shaking her head, “I meant you… you look good, Spence. You look like you’re good.”
“I am, Jazz. It’s been a… heavy couple of years but I am good ,” he made a face as he said ‘good.’ After all, it was all relative, but he had felt good as of late.
“Heavy, huh?” her brows knitted together again, concern coating her soft features. Spencer's arm twitched, yearning to brush that stray curl behind her ear and have her lean into his palm. To make that sad face of hers change into one of comfort.
“I’m sorry about Jack,” he said suddenly, bringing up the only bad thing he knew that had happened to her since he last saw her. Dumbass, why would you say that?
Jasper’s eyes widened a bit, his change of conversation throwing her off balance. She opened her mouth and closed it, then opened it again as she shook her head, “You don’t have anything to be sorry about.”
“I mean it, though. I know what he meant to you.”
Her eyes hardened, soft puddles of brown backed by steel for a swift moment, “You don’t have anything to be sorry about, Spence.”
She smiled at him again, moving on , taking a step away from him and turning on her heel, “I’m gonna go take a shower and I’ll be back down.”
She took the coffee cup with her, poofy ponytail swinging behind her, and Spencer couldn’t help but smile as he remembered her fondness for drinking coffee in the shower. It was such an odd thing to enjoy, but he’d found it endearing, even when he started finding coffee mugs on the tub wall every morning.
They watched her climb the stairs, then all turned on Spencer.
“Stick?” Emily laughed, a big grin splashed across her face. Tara chuckled beside her, trying to hide her amusement behind her coffee mug.
“How’s she still walking around with scars like that?” Walker asked, “They look brutal.”
“Jasper’s tough, man,” Luke sighed, plopping himself down at one of the chairs. “Always has been.”
“She wasn’t kidding about that sniper taking off her leg,” Rossi said, “It must have taken her months to start walking again after that.”
“I remember when it happened. I visited her in the hospital. She said at the time she thought she’d exploded,” Luke nodded solemnly, “Said it took a few seconds for her brain to catch up to her body. She didn’t even feel it at first.”
“And the others?” Rossi leaned forward in his chair, “Did she feel those?” Luke watched Rossi for a moment, seemingly to decide what to say, “I, uh, I’m sure she did.”
“Do you know what happened?” Emily asked.
Luke glanced over at Spencer and scratched his temple as he thought, “Uh, yeah. Yeah, just in the line of duty stuff. You guys know how it goes.”
“I shouldn’t have pushed her,” JJ spoke up, having been quiet since he came down, “Last night, I mean.”
“I’m sure she doesn’t care,” Spencer smiled at her, patting her shoulder softly. “She probably liked that you were so straightforward. As much as she avoids her own feelings, Jasper likes when people just say what they mean.”
“Yup,” Luke nodded, “I bet you ten whole dollars she would’ve done the same thing to someone who was ignoring obvious questions about a significant other.”
“That’s a very specific set of parameters,” Emily chuckled, leaning across the table and thrusting her hand out to Luke, who took it with a grin, “You’ve got a deal.”
“You watch it, sister, I’mma win that money.”
--------------------------------------------
Jasper was about to snap.
Sure, she understood that she cut an interesting figure. Crazy hair, rage-backed eyes, tiny frame that gave her an unassuming air, sure. But what she could not understand was the capacity for straight men to continually hit on women even after they explicitly show disinterest.
She looked over at Spencer. He was already looking at her, watching as she half-listened to whatever the sheriff’s deputy was spouting at her. She tried to focus on the murder board in front of her, focus on the dead boys who needed her help. Focus on the mission.
“...you never know, you might have fun,” Deputy… Dunlop? Dunlap? Was saying to her.
“I’m sorry?” she asked, turning her attention to him, away from Spencer’s gaze.
She’d decided to wear the cardigan again over a linen tee and jeans. She didn’t normally like talking about her scars, or showing them off. People either got awkward, or they were too interested, wanting all the gory details. She peeled it off as she stared down the much taller man, revealing the deep scarring around her wrists and arms.
If the ring on her left hand didn’t deter him, the scars surely would. She saw Spencer sit up straighter out of the corner of her eye, sucking in a breath as he saw them once more. She knew it bothered him, but fuck him. They weren’t about him.
Jasper crossed her arms as she glared at the deputy, “I wasn’t listening.”
“Oh,” he sputtered, his face turning red as he eyed her scars and ignored the look on her face. Spencer stood from his chair, his hands snaking into his pockets as his chest puffed out. Luke glanced over at them, no doubt recognizing the beginnings of a situation.
The deputy was handsome enough, and in another situation she might take him up on whatever sexual escapade he was not-so-subtly suggesting to her, but right now her mind was being pulled in too many directions to teach Deputy Dumbass how to give head in a remotely satisfying way.
“I was just saying,” he drawled, pulling back some of the confidence he’d lost, “after we catch this guy I could show you the flower fields over the hill. They’re real pretty.”
“Are you asking me out in front of the pictures of a bunch of dead kids?”
“Uh- I-”
“I’m going to assume not,” she took a predatory step forward, eyes narrowed, backing him up against the wall, “because if you ask me out one more time after I told you no three times yesterday, I’m gonna have to take that pathetic little pants pinkie of yours and toss it out to the squirrels just to drive home how little I want to do with you outside of this precinct.”
“Alright,” Luke said, coming up behind her and putting a protective hand on her shoulders. He pulled her closer to his chest and away from the deputy, who looked seconds away from pissing himself. “Let’s get back to what we were doing.”
“That’s all we need from you, Deputy Dunlap,” JJ smiled sweetly, eyes following him as he high-tailed it out of the room.
“Rough being this good lookin’, huh?” Rossi joked, sidling up next to her at the board. Luke gave her a squeeze before letting go of her arms, warning her to keep her temper intact. He knew how she could be.
She liked Rossi. He was tough and grizzled but soft enough that you just knew he had your back. She didn’t like that , didn’t like that she wanted to trust him, but that’s what teams do. They trust one another.
She trusted her team.
Ugh. When they found out about this, they’d never let her hear the end of it.
“Oh, you’d know more about that than I would, sir,” she smiled, her peripheral vision still trained on Spencer’s staring problem.
“Good answer,” he laughed. He gestured to her arms, and then to the chair behind them she’d tossed the cardigan on. “I’m surprised it took you this long to shuck that thing.”
Jasper shrugged, “Sometimes it’s easier to cover them up than to talk about them.”
“You don’t seem like the type to be ashamed of something that trivial.”
Jasper turned toward him, smiling. She really liked Rossi, but he scared her. This whole team did. They saw too much, and Spencer knew too much about her.
She’d loved him too much. She showed him too many parts of herself that before she had kept hidden from everyone. He knew her tells, her fears- how she sounded when she was scared, waking up screaming and crying, trying to run from the blood and guts and piss and violence that was now part of her daily life.
“I’m not,” she said slowly, “I guess there’s someone here who knew me before I had them, and I’ve never really had that before.”
“Move on a lot?”
“Yeah, you could say that.”
She looked at him again, studying his face. He wore a nonchalant smirk, and had she not known of his profession, and not been so good at hers, she might see it as passive disinterest. But it was the opposite. Rossi was curious. They all were, all hungry to know more about the girl who’d slept with Spencer Reid.
She knew Spencer. In the past fourteen years he probably hadn’t had too many serious girlfriends, instead shrinking in on himself and not putting himself out there. The team probably hadn’t met too many exes of his. Hell, the only reason she even looked at him twice was because he was standing in the middle of the bar as Jack went to get those stupid shots all those years ago.
She’d been clocking Jack’s movements, struggling to be in such a public place without a gun on her person. Jack had made her leave them at home, though she never told him she’d kept the knife in her Chucks. He’d probably known, but let her keep it anyway.
He wanted her to unwind that night, to take a breath and reintegrate with a society that had long-since thrown her away. She didn’t think she needed it. Doing the job they did, she could easily go the rest of her life not creating relationships or talking with any of those people. If it were up to them she’d be locked up in a six-by-six cell with no windows. That’s probably where she should be.
Jack had been furious when she came back from the mission in Iraq nearly split in two by a humvee door. She thought for a moment, in her drug-fueled hospital bed haze, that he might actually kill Eli for sending her to a warzone. He’d been against it, been against her going out without him for backup.
She’d awoken in so much pain in some Army hospital in Germany. Her ribs crackled with every breath and her head was pounding as she took stock. After she’d gotten over the shock of being in a safe room instead of the desert, she finally noticed Jack’s hand clasped in hers as his head rested on the bed next to her, fast asleep.
Eli was sitting in the chair in the corner, his face lighting up when she finally noticed him. A shiver had run down her spine. She hated seeing him smile. Bad things happened when Eli smiled.
Welcome back to the world, Sugar. I thought I lost my best girl there for a moment.
Rossi was still looking at her expectantly. She decided she might as well get it over with quickly. She held her arms out in front of her and twisted them, showing Rossi how the scars went through both sides of her forearms.
“Someone tied me up and decided to play whack-a-mole.”
“Looks like it hurt.”
“It did.”
“Did you get the guy?”
“Something like that,” she said, giving him a pointed look.
Rossi measured her gaze, trying to look past the steel and into whatever she was hiding. She knew he wouldn’t find anything, she was too good at putting it in a box and walking away from it.
“Good girl.”
“I want you to say goodbye, Sugar,” Eli said, chewing on the end of his cigar as he pointed toward the approaching building. Church, as he called it.
“A piece of you is going to die in there, and you’re never going to get it back. You might not notice it’s gone tomorrow, but ten years, hell maybe even in two months, you’re going to feel a piece of you let go. You’re gonna bathe in this shit. You’ll be up to your goddamned eyeballs and you don’t have the luxury of holding on to the hope that things’ll just work out in the end. You either make it or you don’t. Survive or die.”
He pulled a pistol out of his hip holster and pointed it between her eyes. She didn’t flinch, and she didn’t blink in surprise as her fucked up brain thought about how much colder the metal was than she’d thought it would be.
“Your choice, Sugar. You comin’ inside with me or am I leavin’ you out here?”
“Who’s Sugar?” she asked, turning away from the gun and looking toward the horizon. She could say the piece of her that had hope died right there, but with how easily it seemed to slink into the ether, she wondered if she hadn’t lost it long before.
“Good girl.”
Teams like the BAU, ones who see the nitty gritty, but don’t actually have to wade in the blood themselves, they don’t see self defense as anything more than ‘that guy tried to kill me, so I killed him.’ In Jasper’s world it was different. You didn’t wait for someone to kill you, you killed them before they even saw you. Any other margin of contact, any bit of error, could be the life and death of hundreds.
She wasn’t scared to kill, or to die, but she was scared of Eli.
Thank God he was dead.
“I forgot that people do that,” Spencer said, plopping back into chair, leaning back as he flicked a pencil between his fingers anxiously.
“Do what?” she asked, painfully aware of the rest of the team milling about the room. They had no doubt seen the bit with her arms, probably watched as the deputy hit on her while she was lost in thought.
“Ask you out even if it’s highly inappropriate,” he smiled awkwardly, nodding to himself.
“Oh,” she said. She had forgotten, or at least she had gotten used to it over the years. When they had dated, people did that constantly. They had no idea she was so incredibly in love with the skinny genius she didn’t even notice them until they poked her on the shoulder and interrupted her ‘let’s stare at Spencer’ moment.
“It’s not like anyone could ever pull me away from you, anyways, Stick,” she said without thinking.
“Stick?” Tara asked amusedly, a deep grin on her face as she turned toward them.
Jasper felt the blush rip up the back of her neck and over her cheeks. Stick . She only ever called him that in private, as he would get embarrassed by it in public. He didn’t mind when she called him that at home, prancing around in one of his shirts, happily sinking to her knees to make up for it. To tell the truth, she could’ve stayed on her knees forever for Spencer Reid. She would’ve done anything to look up at any moment and see his head thrown back in bliss, a soft blush patching over his shoulders and face as he lost himself in her.
“What do you think of this guy? Mark Halsten” she asked, looking away from Spencer and his stupid staring and holding up a file. “Hits all the right places- super-pedo, anger issues, lives in a remote area.”
Luke snatched the file from her hands, flipping through it quickly. Emily reached over and snagged it from him as well, nodding as she read.
“How about you and JJ go and interview him? We’ll keep going through the paper files and see if we can find anything else.”
Jasper and JJ glanced at one another, unsure eyebrows cocked at the idea of a partnership. Jasper understood JJ, understood why she was the way she was. She was protective of Spencer, and could probably see that having Jasper around had stretched the team dynamic just a bit.
“Cool,” Jasper smiled, picking up the SUV keys from the table, “I’ll drive.”
------------------------------------
Halsten’s house was about ten minutes outside of town, somewhere in the boonies. JJ and Jasper rode in silence, JJ rubbing her temple and looking over and over again like she wanted to speak, only to turn back to the window and snap her jaw shut.
Jasper ignored her for the most part, focusing on the terrain in front of her. As soon as they left Ellison city limits the road turned to gravel and remote fields. It was a desolate countryscape, and not knowing the lay of the land was making her nervous. There could be snipers in the treeline, or camouflaged men lying in wait in the tall grass.
“I’m sorry about last night,” JJ finally blurted. Jasper had figured that was what she’d been so upset about. Walking on eggshells when yesterday she wouldn’t stop pestering Jasper with questions.
“For what?” she deadpanned, taking a turn up a small hill. She kept scanning their surroundings. She had a bad feeling about this.
“I shouldn’t have pushed you to talk about your husband.” “Did you know he was dead?”
“What?” JJ asked, turning her body toward Jasper in shock.
“Did you know he was dead? Did you kill him?”
“No,” she shook her head, “of course not. How could I?”
“Exactly,” Jasper grunted, already over this conversation. Nobody needed to know about Jack or their relationship. “It’s not a big deal. He’s been dead for over a decade. I’ve moved on.”
“Why do you still wear your wedding ring, then?”
Jasper’s jaw clenched, her thumb moving to rub the small band. It was a small diamond set with two pearls on a gold band. It was one of the only personal possessions she’d consistently kept with her. The rest were in a storage unit in Arlington.
“It’s not really my wedding ring,” she sighed, “Someone gave me a ring but then he died. After Jack was gone, I melted both bands down and had them remade with the gems from both of them. Jack’s gave me a diamond, the other gave me the pearls.”
“Were you and this guy together?”
Jasper turned into the driveway of Mark Halsten. She stepped on the brakes just a little too hard, jerking JJ forward in her seat. She glared at the blonde agent, trying to contain herself.
“Yes,” she whispered through clenched teeth. “This was the easiest way to keep them both with me while I was working.”
She kicked open the driver’s door as she turned off the ignition. JJ followed out from her side, hands on both their holsters as they approached the Halsten residence.
It was a run-down ranch style home on a big property with a sagging porch. There was a barn behind the house that looked like it hadn’t been used for farming in years. The grass was long, almost up to their knees as they stepped up the stone path to the door. Jasper could smell that familiar scent, rancid heat-soaked remains, but it could be anything this far out in the country.
Suddenly the screen door flew open, a streak of brown fur and teeth shooting out toward them. JJ bolted back toward the car, climbing the hood, but Jasper stood her ground. As the pitbull followed JJ for running, Jasper waited for it to pass her, grabbing his collar and twisting tightly.
The dog jerked back in her grip, his jaws snapping and snarling. JJ’s gun was pointed toward them, but Jasper just twisted the collar tighter, kicking the dog's legs out from underneath it and pinning it to the ground in one swift movement. She set one knee down on the back of the dog’s neck, just under her grip on the collar, the other on it’s back hips.
“ Stay,” she snarled into the dog’s ear, pinching the collar tightly against its neck. It whimpered and stilled underneath her, looking up at her in fear.
“ Hey, hey, hey! ” a voice burst from the door. A young white man in jeans and an old t-shirt shoved it open and stepped onto the porch. “You best not hurt that dog!”
“Sir, you ne-,” JJ started, still standing on top of the SUV, pointing her gun at the man.
“Give me a leash, or I put a bullet in it , and then you ,” Jasper snapped, holding her gun against the dog’s head. She wouldn’t really shoot the damned thing if she couldn’t subdue it, but this asshole didn’t know that.
“ Slowly, ” JJ warned as the man opened the door back up. He sluggishly pulled a leash from behind the main door, shaking it like an asshole toward Jasper before he threw it to her.
She clipped the dog’s collar, twisting the leash tightly in her hand so it was taut. She let the dog sit up slowly, holstering her gun as they both stood. It watched her, unsure what to make of her.
“Booger, come ,” the man said, patting his thigh. The dog glanced back up at Jasper, who tugged the leash tighter. It looked back at the man, but stayed in it’s spot.
“Are you Mark Halsten?” Jasper asked.
He glared at her, looking between her and Booger before answering, “Yeah, what’s it to you?”
“We’re with the FBI, we’d like to ask you a few questions about the child murders that have been going on over the last few months.”
“I ain’t had nothin’ to do about that. I don’t need to talk to feebs, anyways,” he sneered, hands on his hips. Jasper just wanted to shoot this pedo and be done with it.
“You’re on parole, right?” JJ asked, stepping down from the hood of the car. “All it takes is one call to your parole officer and your little property is crawling with us feebs .”
Halsten looked at her for a moment, bouncing on his toes. He bolted, taking off toward the barn.
JJ and Jasper followed, but he was taller than them both, and faster. He made it to an old pickup behind the house before they could stop him, throwing it in drive and tearing ass back toward them.
“Move!” Jasper yelled, tackling JJ out of the way of the truck. As it passed she pulled her back to her feet and dragged her back toward the SUV. The dog watched it all unfold, sitting obediently where Jasper had left him.
Jasper jumped into the driver’s seat, barely waiting for JJ to climb into her side before pulling the SUV into reverse and following Halsten down the driveway. She flipped it into drive as she exited the driveway, wincing as the bumper hit a tree before she switched gears.
“Be advised,” JJ ordered into the walkie, holding onto the ‘oh-shit’ handle, “Agents Keaton and Jareau are in pursuit of an 2000’s model Chevy pickup truck, color blue, down Route 6 toward Ellison. Suspect’s name is Mark Halsten, twenty-nine, white male, blue eyes and blonde hair, approximately six-foot three.”
“Affirmative,” Luke’s voice cracked through the speaker, “We’re five minutes out.”
They followed his erratic driving around the hills for a few minutes, just making sure he didn’t hit anyone else and didn’t crash until backup could arrive. She wished Billy was driving, he was their pilot and driver. He was way better at this shit than her.
Jasper turned another bend, closing in on Halsten’s pickup. He made a hairpin turn, using his vehicle as a battering ram as it came back toward them.
“Jasper!” JJ screamed, holding tightly to the handle and the center console. Just before the truck hit them, Jasper pulled the emergency brake as hard as she could, turning the car so the impact would hit just behind the driver’s seat.
Jasper tried not to squeeze her eyes shut as the grill of the truck slammed into their car. The sound of crunching glass filled the air, followed by the airbags smashing into Jasper’s nose and launching her into unconsciousness.
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Kudos and Comments are writer fuel! Please let me know what you enjoyed so far! Let me know your feelings on what's going on!
Do you guys like the long chapters? I feel bad writing short ones when you wait a week to read the chapter? And I never know how to stop prattling on.
- Smurph❤
Forever Tag:
@simplyparker, @spencerreidsmommy
(Lol I know this is Chapter 6, but like... yeah I've been posting these all day)
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Whumptober 2022 day 8
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Stomach Pain | Head Trauma | Back from the Dead
Oonagh and Mikál are leaving Graham Reid Malett’s ashram. She’s not feeling 100% but she’s hopeful about a new start. She doesn’t know she’s about to meet someone she thought she was free of.
CW for references to Oonagh’s ED, symptoms hinted at are withdrawal from a drug she didn’t realise she was being given, one character has a gun, references also to Oonagh’s time training with terrorists.
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The Alamo road had seemed unending, but Oonagh didn't loosen her grip on the steering wheel. Through washouts and hidden pockets of powdery dust she'd guided the car carefully, coaxing it onwards though it was totally unsuitable for the terrain. The sky had turned a bright, mercury-coloured grey, and the mountain range where the ashram was based glowered in the rear view mirror. There was no radio signal out there in the desert, so they drove in silence - the boy Mikál was unusually pale-faced and edgy in the passenger seat, which Oonagh put down to his feelings about the low-slung car and the rustic trail.
He'd offered to drive, but she'd looked him up and down, decided he was basically a child, and refused to hand over control of her escape to this wee slip of a thing in his lilac kaftan and purple, infantile pedal-pushers. Oonagh herself had trained in off-roading back with the provos in a boggy camp in County Meath, so she wasn't about to trust her life to this little hippy - she willfully pushed aside the thought that, at the time, she had likely not even been as old as Mikál was now.
Maybe it was the tension getting to her, not knowing whether Francis and the others were successfully following them, not being certain whether they had managed to get the children out of the compound Geetesh had kept them in. Maybe she was just unused to having to concentrate so hard. Maybe the sky was simply too bright. When they turned onto Highway 95, Oonagh peeled a hand stiffly from the wheel and rubbed at the deepening frown line between her brows. She'd started to feel light-headed and clammy, detached from her surroundings even as the car rattled them over the uneven surface of the trail and the steering wheel juddered so that vibrations followed up her arms, right to her clenched teeth.
The smooth, straight highway was a struggle to focus on now, and she blinked and shifted in her seat, willing herself to stay alert.
"Are you well, Daso-jan?" Mikál murmured, turning his long, narrow face to her.
"Mikál..." Oonagh said, deliberately pronouncing it with a thick accent - Mee-hail - and shooting him a pointed look. "What did I tell you when you came back?"
He smiled, unashamed, unperturbed by the reminder. "Oonagh-jan. Are you well?"
"I'm tired, Mikál," she pronounced it according to his version this time. "But the road to Vegas is smooth and straight. We'll be there in no time."
"This is true, but why hurry when you are tired, and risk all you have? There is a diner at the gas station on the edge of the city. Let's stop and celebrate our freedom."
Oonagh shook her head and rolled her eyes. Her stomach felt like it was made of concrete, but the thought of food made it clench sharply. "I'm not hungry. Are you hungry?"
He grinned bashfully. "I'm a growing boy, they tell me." He tucked his long, mahogany hair back behind his ears and gave her his sweetest smile. He had this look about him of innocence and potential - guileless open lips and handsome dark eyes. Oonagh was sure he plucked his strong brows into their artful, arched shape, and he was always immaculately shaved - not a bit of hair on his chin or his legs or his arms. It made it hard to judge his age, even aside from her conviction that he had the unworldly, inexperienced nature of a naïf. But then life on the ashram could do that to people, and she didn't know how many years he'd been a devotee of Rajneesh's cult, nor what he had done with his life before that.
"I don't think I could manage to eat, Mikál," she shook her head again. "But I'll take you to a drive-thru if you want."
"Oh," he repeated the gesture with his hair, though it was still pinned behind his ears. "Come on, Oonagh-jan. There must be something you've missed on the ashram?"
She squinted out beyond her arms at the road. Her wrist bones looked sharp, nearly as skinny as she remembered Cai's being. Her stomach hurt, a clenched, vague discomfort that teetered on the edge of pain - and she wasn't certain whether it was a pain from hunger, a pain from not being hungry, or a pain from the worry that kept every muscle in her body taut. It had been building in her since the moment Geetesh's house had collapsed, it seemed - as though he had planted some spore within her that would continue to torture her even after he was gone.
She swallowed and felt her body fight even his simple gesture. So perhaps letting herself enjoy something cheap and trashy from a diner - assuming Mikál had cash on him - would be an act of defiance. A way of putting the ashram life behind her and combating the ache in her stomach, of fighting Geetesh, even after his death.
"All right. Coffee. I haven't had a good cup of coffee in..." she bit her lip and let her foot lie a bit heavier on the gas pedal. She had counted the months by Cai's age. "A while."
"Ayo!" Mikál exclaimed. He shook the air with his clenched fists. "I will buy you coffee and apple pie, Oonagh-jan."
Oonagh smiled. She still didn't want to eat, but the idea of a slice of pie on a plate pleased her. She would order it with a scoop of white vanilla ice cream and watch the ice cream melt down between the slices of cooked fruit. She would wish Cai was with her, so she could slice pieces off with her spoon and offer them to him.
Stepping out of the car at the diner she felt light-headed and leaned on the car for a moment. Mikál said he would go in and order, so she let him go and took deep breaths, acutely aware of the fragility and weakness of her body after all she had denied herself and all Geetesh had denied her on top of that.
From the open window of the diner she smelled the food and, although her stomach still hurt, her heart beat faster at the rich aromas, and her mouth began to fill with saliva. As she moved around the car, keeping one hand on it to steady herself, she began to feel hopeful about the coffee and the pie. Maybe she would let herself have a mouthful. It would steady her, and the rush of sugar on an empty stomach like this - combined with caffeine - would be even better than the highs from pure West Berlin cocaine.
She didn't see Mikál when she entered, but she was too weak to stand at the counter, so slid into one of the booths and ignored the stares of the other patrons. They'd have their opinions about the so-called 'pink people' no doubt, and Oonagh's long red dress wasn't standard attire in these parts.
Mikál arrived shortly after the coffee and the cake he had ordered her, and the bean tacos he'd chosen for himself. "Sorry Daso-jan, I was just calling the hotel to let them know we'll be there soon."
She raised her brows, but her focus was on the coffee, which she raised in order to inhale the scent. "Kind of you to think of that, Mee-hail," she smirked and took a sip of the coffee, black as it came, in order to consider whether it could be managed without cream or sugar.
Mikál chuckled. "I don't understand why you have given up your name. Daso is a beautiful name."
"But I am no longer a servant, Mikál," Oonagh said firmly. "And I note that you never took a sannyasin name..."
He grinned as he tucked into his food. Shrugging, he seemed to grant her the point. "I haven't found the right name because I am still testing my path. It may be that I am a Rajneeshee - it may be that I am something else. But there is no shame in serving. It is an honour to serve, where the cause is mighty and the master is great."
She considered the cream and the sugar and eventually decided to add a little of both. "You've met him, of course. At Rajneeshpuram?"
"Yes," Mikál cocked his head to one side. "But I knew then that he was not my master. My master cares not for Rolls Royces - all that he does, he does for love."
Oonagh stirred her coffee, watching the hue change and thinking about how it was like the beautiful fabrics she used to wear on catwalks and in shoots - swirling with endless gradients of colour, each one made more subtle and lovely because of those it neighboured. She looked up to tease Mikál about who his new master might be, and saw that he was gazing rapturously over her shoulder.
Oonagh turned, but before she saw who it was, she smelled patchouli and cedar, and the skin on her scalp crawled in recognition. She took a breath, sharp enough to feel it as a blade in her chest, but the sight of a handgun tucked into the waist of peach-pink suits trousers, flaunted at what was eye level for her, persuaded her to remain silent.
Back from the dead, but no less imposing than before, Graham Reid Malett - Swami Geetesh - looked down at her with an expression that no one could have mistaken for a smile. It was cruel and seemed more intimately familiar with pain than Oonagh recalled. The very tips of his mouth quirked up, but there was no softness in his eyes, which fell on her with disdain.
"Daso. I expected you to have brought your whelp. Had I known you would be so eager to leave him behind I might have let you go many months ago."
Oonagh gaped, she shivered with the chill of being in his shadow once more, and as Geetesh sidled into the booth next to her she turned to Mikál. "What did you do?!"
Mikál tucked his hair back and smiled sadly. "To serve is to love - and to accept service is to love, Daso-jan."
"You were dead!" the words were somewhere between a shriek and a hiss, and Geetesh laid a large hand over one of hers in warning. "You were dead, they promised..."
Now he was close, she felt the clamminess of his palm and saw the waxy sheen of his skin. He had greenish shadows beneath his eyes, and his colour wasn't as robustly healthy as it had been before. Oonagh had gone to see a horror film with some of her girlfriends on a shoot in Turin, back in '79, in which the dead had returned to attack the living, their skin tinted blue and their eyes deep-set in bruised sockets. She wondered what rituals had been performed to keep Graham Reid Malett alive.
His mouth moved again, that pinched curve, like he had smelled something unpleasant. "Promises, promises, Daso. I'm amazed you still believe in them. Haven't you been let down enough by this world?"
She shuddered, and the hand holding hers squeezed - too tight.
"I keep my promises, Daso. And I swore to that you would see your son destroy his father. So drink up - eat your pie. And then we must go to our appointment."
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Matthew Macfadyen on The Late Late Show with James Corden 8 June 2020
"Keeley and I, we tried, straight to the beginning of lockdown, we instigated--it was my idea, we instigated this reading hour idea. I thought we'd do a reading hour every day and so, at five o'clock, we all--I insisted, and there was lots of complaining and we all sat in the living room and read our books. And it didn't work. And my son, I heard it--I heard a ping, and he had his mobile behind his book. And then my daughter went, 'Daddy, this is creepy.' So it didn't work."
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zoeygraygubler · 3 years
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Look My Way- Spencer Reid x Plus Sized!Reader
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Look My Way-Spencer Reid Plus Sized!Reader
Summary: Reader overhears Spencer telling Derek he would never date them because of their weight. This affects them and the team tries to figure out what happened. HAPPY ENDING DON'T WORRY.
Warnings: Angst, mentions of ED, please tell me anything I missed.
A/N: This hit home tbh. I might make a part 2 depending on if you guys like this or not. Requests are open btw, so feel free to request.
It’s never been a secret that I’m bigger than most women. That my clothes are tighter than they should be. That I’m not the stereotypical image of a beautiful woman but that didn’t really matter. Especially not to my best friend Spencer.
I’ve known him since I first joined the BAU a few years after he did. We instantly clicked in a way I never had with anyone else. At first, I was insecure but Spencer assured me that there was nothing to worry about, that he would be my friend no matter what I looked like. Sure, we got a few weird looks in public, I guess my standing next to a very skinny tall man was surprising for others to see but I never let it get to me.
With all of these things in mind, I can’t help but feel insecure sometimes. Somedays, I’m the badest bitch, but others I feel worthless and ugly. I know it’s normal but unfortunately, today was one of those days. I never really mentioned anything about that stuff to Spencer so he was none the wiser unless he profiled me which we agreed not to do.
So today when I walked in today, feeling bigger than I am, my clothes feeling tighter than usual, I tried to suck it up, ready to see my best friend. I began to head into the kitchen first, needing some coffee to help me wake up and hopefully ease my mind but I stopped when I heard voices. It was Spencer and Derek talking.
“What about you, Pretty Boy?” I heard Derek say. “Is there any lucky lady in your life?” I almost wanted to walk in but stopped myself. I was certain there wasn’t anything going on with him but I didn’t want to intrude and have him change his answer, so I waited.
“N-no. Not really,” Spencer said. I smiled at his words, hearing that I was right. Again, I was about to walk in before I heard my name.
“Not even Y/N? I mean you guys spend a lot of time together,” Derek said and I could already see the look on his face. My heart started racing. I liked Spencer as soon as I laid my eyes on him, how could I not? He’s absolutely beautiful. I’ve liked him more than friends for a while but have been too shy to say anything. Curious for his answer, I waited again.
“You’re kidding right?” He sounded almost surprised, almost offended that Derek even asked.
“Well, why not?” Derek argued.
“Have you seen her? Sure I spend a lot of time with her but I could never be with someone like her,”
“Someone like what?” Derek asked, I could hear the slight anger in his voice and I was grateful.
“You know, someone different than me. She just isn’t my type,”
“And let me guess, your type is someone skinny with perfect eyes and blonde hair?” Derek questioned. Spencer didn’t respond so I couldn't. I didn’t know what was happening. “You know Spencer, I didn’t know you could be so shallow,”
“Wait, I didn’t mean it like that,” Derek began to say something else but I left before I could hear the rest.
My stomach hurts, my heart hurts. My eyes started welling with tears but I somehow managed to make it to the bathroom without letting them fall.
Did I really just hear Spencer, my long-time crush, my best friend say that he wasn’t interested in me because of my weight? I went into a stall and locked it, falling to my knees. I felt like I was going to throw up. He rejected me without even realizing it.
I don’t know for sure how long I was in the bathroom, it could’ve been hours, minutes. I didn’t even realize it until Emily came into the bathroom.
“Y/N? Are you in here?” I heard her call out. There was no use in lying so I hummed in response, getting off of my knees and exiting the stall. As I washed my hands, she stared at my puffy red eyes and face. I must’ve started crying too.
“What’s the matter honey?” she asked in a soft voice. She rubbed my back.
“I-I just don’t feel good,” I responded, shaking. She nodded and said she’d let Hotch know I wanted to go home. I could’ve stopped her but that was the best thing for me right now. To not have to see Spencer, whose desk was conveniently across from mine. After coming back to let me know I was free to go and telling me to get better, I left the bathroom, shamefully walking through the office and to the elevator.
Before I could press the button, I made a last-second decision to use the stairs. It would be good for me. By the time I made it downstairs, I was embarrassingly out of breath, having to stop for a second.
Finally getting to my car and home, I carelessly kicked off my heels and went into my bedroom. I was hungry, even though I had already eaten but didn’t give in to the hunger.
There’s a mirror in my bedroom, I usually admire myself in it but not today. I took off my clothes until I was just in my underwear, it didn’t help that I was wearing granny panties. I squished my stomach, looking at the stretch marks across my Y/S/C skin. They usually didn’t bother me but today they were all I could look at.
I turned to the side, seeing how my stomach stuck out, even more than my chest did. I sucked in and out, seeing a little difference. My eyes drifted down to my legs. They had to be my least favorite part. My thighs were huge, they spread out when I sat. They were covered in stretch marks as well as cellulite. No wonder why Spencer wasn’t attracted to me. I don’t know if I would be either.
Finally, I looked at my face. The way I had dropping skin under my chin, the way my hips stuck out more than they should and not in a good way. I had rolls and back fat. As I squeezed my skin, I heard my phone vibrating on my bed. Pulling my eyes away from the mirror, I headed over and picked it up.
3 missed calls from Spence
9 texts from Spence
Spence: Y/N where did you go? I saw you walk out.
Spence: Come on, please answer. Are you alright?
Spence: I saw Emily walking out behind you but she won’t tell me anything.
Spence: Y/N answer my calls, please.
Spence: Alright, this is getting ridiculous. Are you ignoring me?
Spence: What did I do wrong? Whatever it is, I'm sorry.
Spence: Okay I’m coming over.
Spence: I hope you’re home.
Spence: I told Hotch I’m coming to check on you, I’m on my way.
My heart began racing as I read those last few texts. He's coming over? The damn reason I left was to avoid this.
Me: Please don’t, I’m sick you’ll get it too.
Spence: I don’t care, besides I’m already here, give me a second.
HE’S HERE? Quickly, I pulled on some shorts and a big sweatshirt, hoping it would hide my figure. I paced around for a minute before hearing three urgent knocks on the door. I thought about ignoring it. I wanted to, but then I heard him through the door.
“Y/N, I know you’re in there, answer the door.” I almost answered but opted to call him instead. It rang for a second before he answered instantly.
“Spence you need to leave,” I tried to plead before he cut me off.
“Y/N answer the door. I’m not asking. Let me in, I need to know that you’re okay,”
“Spencer I’m fine,” I said, sniffing my nose to make it more believable.
“Y/N, please. I’m begging you, at least just let me see you,”
“If I open the door, you aren’t coming in, you aren’t even saying a word,”
“Okay, fine,” he agreed. I hung up the phone and walked over to the door, taking a breath before opening it. I didn’t realize I had started crying again until I felt another tear fall down my face. He looked me up and down with a worried expression, obviously wanting to say something. Looking at him made me disgusted, hearing his words in my mind again.
“Goodbye Reid,” I said before shutting the door in his face. I felt bad but as I thought about what he said about me, the guilt began to go away. I grabbed my phone and blocked his number. I was hesitant but I didn’t need anything like that happening again.
I avoided him after that. For a few days, he tried to catch my eye. He tried talking to me but I would pay no mind. As the days went by, my view of myself got progressively worse. I stopped talking to everyone really. I was beginning to be alone a lot but I didn’t mind, at least not now.
Today, three weeks later, I’m still alone. I’ve been invited out to drink but I always decline. I don’t eat lunch at work anymore. For some reason, Reid's words hit harder than anyone ever has. Why did I let them affect me so much?
When I walked into work today, I saw Reid wasn’t at his desk. It was unusual but I didn’t give it a second thought. In fact, no one was at their desks. It was odd. That was until I heard talking coming from the conference room. I would go look but I thought better of it because of what happened last time.
Sighing, I sat down, getting ready for a long day of paperwork and hunger. About 20 minutes after I sat, Hotch left the room and called my name.
“Y/N, you are needed in the conference room immediately,” He said in his deep intimidating voice. I nodded and began walking to the room. The walk felt like it took forever like I’d never make it until I was at the door. Walking in, everyone was staring at me with sad expressions.
“What’s going on? Is there a case?” I asked, wondering why everyone was giving me that look.
“Y/N we need to know what's wrong. You haven’t been yourself these past few weeks and we need to know why,” JJ spoke. Of course, I couldn’t hide my feelings from profilers. I silently cursed myself for being so easy to read.
“Especially if you want to go back out into the field. I need you to be your best and right now you aren’t. If you want me to allow you to go on to the next case, I advise you to say what's wrong.” Hotch said sternly. I nodded and swallowed the spit that collected in my mouth.
“Emily. Can I please talk to Emily?” I asked, not willing to say it in front of Spencer. Hotch nodded and motioned Emily to follow me out of the room. Before we left, I could see the hurt look on Spencer's face, presumably because I chose her instead of me. We went into the stairwell, where no one could hear us.
“Alright Y/N, I know you weren’t sick before, but that's when this all started,” Emily told me. “Start from the beginning and tell me what happened,” she said.
“It’s stupid,” I said shaking my head.
“No, it's not. Especially if it’s affecting my friend this much,” she assured me.
So I began to tell her.
“I...it started when I heard Derek and Spencer talking,” I explained and she nodded, telling me she was listening. “ Derek asked Spencer if he would date me because we spend a lot of time together I guess,”
“Makes sense,” she agreed.
“But when he asked, Spencer acted, I don’t know, upset. He was like ‘how could I date someone like her?’ Derek questioned him about it but he didn’t respond and I left before I could hear anything else,”
“What did he mean by ‘someone like you?” Emily asked and I laughed dryly, trying not to cry.
“Someone fat Emily,”
“I’m sure that’s n-”
“No, it is. I’m not stupid. Derek even said ‘What’s your type then? Skinny?’ and Spencer didn’t respond. He didn’t say anything out of guilt Emily,” I said, tears finally leaving my eyes for the first time that day.
“Y/N, I’m so sorry. I don’t know how he could be so...so boyish,” Emily said, bringing me in for a hug.
“It’s alright, now I know that he’ll never like me like I do him,” I said, sniffing, holding her back.
“Wait...you like him?” she asked and I nodded. Shaking her head, she grabbed my wrist and pulled me outside of the conference room. “We are going to fix this,” she said before opening the door, letting go of my hand. I stood in the doorway as she barged.
“Reid, get your ass up,” Emily said with the same stern voice Hotch had earlier. He shot up out of his chair, you could practically see the sweat coming from his pores. “Come here,” she said and he immediately followed her directions. She grabbed his collar, pulling his ear next to her mouth, whispering something only he could hear. His Adam's apple bobbed up and down as he gulped and nodded his head.
I turned and went back to the stairwell, assuming he was still behind me. I sat and looked at him, tears in my eyes, probably looking as ugly as ever.
“She said it was my fault, that I needed to fix this but I still don’t understand what’s wrong,” I shook my head and looked down at his chest, not being able to look him in the eye.
“I heard. I heard you and Derek talking in the kitchen a few weeks ago,” I knew he remembered what I was talking about. He remembers everything.
“Oh God,” he whispered.
“Yeah, but it doesn’t matter anymore,” I said, turning away. Spencer grabbed my hands right away.
“Of course it matters Y/N. You matter to me,” Spencer tried to assure.
“Yeah, that’s why you act like its the worst thing in the world to even think about being with me,”
“Y/N it’s not like that. I was deflecting, I swear. I was trying to hide how I really felt,”
“And how do you really feel?” I asked, finally looking at him. His eyes were red and tears were threatening to fall. I guess I didn’t expect this to affect him as much as it did.
“To be honest, I’m completely in love with you. I have been for a long time and I regret saying that, I really do,” But I shook my head.
“You don’t have to lie, Reid. I get it, I’m not JJ or Emily okay. I’m not as skinny as them but I can’t believe you even said that,” I argued.
“I’m not lying, and I’ll prove it to you,” he said getting up.
“Where are you going?” I asked but he didn’t answer me. He just left the stairwell and went back into the office area. I followed him back into the conference room and everyone looked up at us.
“I have something to confess to you all,” Spencer began, turning to me. “I am completely and utterly in love with Y/N, despite her appearance despite what anyone else thinks or says I am deeply in love with,” Spencer admitted. Everyone gasped, including myself. “And I made a mistake. A horrible mistake but I’m hoping she can find it in herself to forgive me and let me take her on a date tomorrow night,” All eyes are on me now. My breath slowed and I licked my lips.
Needless to say, I wasn’t expecting this. I nodded my head, fighting back a smile. I knew I wouldn’t forgive him right away, but I had to at least give him a chance and I don't regret it one bit.
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Dating Spencer Reid would include...
Him reading to you
Making tea for him after a long day
Him catching a glimpse of it raining outside and excitedly call your name
Falling asleep to raindrops and his steady heartbeats
Wearing his cardigans when he’s away for a case
Listening to his voice mails before sleep because you want to hear the sound of his voice
Very subtle almost secret pda
Like holding hands under tables
Stroking your knee with his fingertips
Shoulders brush
Catching him stare at you
Movie nights
Going to the pumpkin patch
Going to that Edgar Allan Poe exhibit he’s wanted to go for so long
Blacking out with a sharpie calories on the food labels to help you recover if you struggled with an ed
Talking about you to the team;
Who would then make fun of him;
Like saying your name over and over until he bursts out in laugher or cracks a smile
Leaving post its in his favorite books with comments or kind words in his comfort book
Him resting his head on your shoulder and feeling his soft curls brush your skin
His perfume ugh
Making playlists for each other
Him telling you bad chemistry jokes when you cry to make you laugh
When watching a documentary he would point out at the ugliest creature (like a blob fish) and say “that’s you”;
But he would also point out to the ceiling of a chapel to an angel and compare it to you
He would hold your hair when you drink too much (especially w/ Garcia and Emily)
He would know what your favorite blanket is
Him knowing by heart your coffee order and surprising you with it at work/uni
Dancing to one of his old records in his living room with the windows open at night
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mercy-burning · 3 years
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Again And Again
Part of Mercy’s 1k Celebration: A collection of Spencer Reid x Reader requests to celebrate 1,000 followers.
Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: Companion to Out Of Commission and Make It Even (but can be read separately) / Reader and Spencer are frustrated at the constant injuries they acquire on the job. Category: SMUT (18+) Warnings: Language, smut (oral sex - both receiving, fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, spanking, light degradation, praise, multiple orgasms, dirty talk, very brief mention of somnophilia at the end) Word Count: 3.1k
Full Request: “hey !! i love you writing and was wondering if you can make a part 3 to out of commission and make it even where reader and spencer reid have sex” — @deepestcloudvoidhound 
***EDITED: 7/25/2021***
MASTERLIST | 1K MASTERLIST
***
"I swear to God, if this happens one more time I'm quitting," she breathed against his mouth, her hands frantically working to push off his jacket.
They hadn't even made it all the way through the door.
Spencer closed it with his foot and almost lost his balance as she yanked the jacket off his shoulders, threw it to the ground, and shoved him against the apartment door. And though in the back of his mind he worried that she might be a little too vigorous in her determination for long-awaited sex, he couldn't deny that it'd been nagging him as well.
It was a long four months.
It wasn't long after Y/N had fully healed from her stomach injury, two weeks to be exact, that Spencer hurt his knee again, after an unfortunate fall down some stairs no thanks to a sneaky unsub. Unsurprisingly, that took extra long to heal because of his previous leg injury, so that put him out of commission for almost a month. And then, after one night of fully-healed, very intense and hot sex, they were called away on another case, and sure enough, Y/N came out of it with another injury. It was a broken ankle, so nothing too serious, but still enough to warrant jokes from everyone about how accident-prone the lovebirds were.
And by the time both of them were finally ready to start having sex again, Y/N was in the hospital because of internal bleeding caused by her previous stomach wounds.
It was exhausting.
And that was putting it lightly.
Over the course of the last month, Y/N was so anxious to get back to occasionally jumping her boyfriend's bones, though said boyfriend and her doctor both laid strict orders to give it a good solid month and a half to two (or maybe even three, just to be safe) months before trying any sort of sexual activity. It made her cranky, made her co-workers greatly amused, and made Spencer a little sad, though he'd be lying if he said he wasn't frustrated as well.
Which is why, as she pushed against him, littering his neck with kisses and bites and hiked her knee up to settle between his legs, rather than suggesting they take it easy, he indulged her and rocked his hips against it, using his hands to clutch at her shoulders as warmth flooded his insides.
"I want you so fucking bad," she growled in his ear, reaching up to nibble on the top of it, which in turn caused her leg to press harder into his crotch. He shuddered against her as she continued speaking—low, slow, and hot against the side of his face. "But knowing our shitty luck, this will probably be one of the last times for months we'll be able to have sex, and I want this to last."
She rolled her body further into his, letting out a small whine in desperation, and it all but drove him up the wall. His hips ground down into her leg and his hands slid down her body to grip her ass, needing more than anything to be close to her.
"Please," he choked out, fluttering his eyes at the way she hummed against his neck. "Baby, please..."
"Mmm, I love it when you beg," she whined, right before her mouth sloppily slid across his neck, up his jawline, and over his lips. Their tongues pushed together instantly, sparks flying and hands roaming just about everywhere they could, until Y/N decided she'd done enough waiting.
"Take your pants off," she hummed, and he wasted no time with a verbal response.
As soon as his hands flew to undo his belt, she dropped to her knees and waited patiently, feeling herself grow wetter at just the sound of the belt rattling. She sat there and squirmed, until finally he was hooking his fingers through the waistband of the fabric, and as soon as he moved, she reached up and yanked them down, looking up at him with large eyes and a wicked smile.
The sight drove him wild, though the feeling only grew when she stuck out her tongue and licked his dick slowly from base to tip. When she got there, her lips wrapped softly around the tip and sucked ever so gently, before she swiped her tongue back down and repeated the whole process.
Spencer's head thunked against the door as he let out a sigh. "Y/N..." He wasn't even really sure how he intended to say her name. It felt like he was begging for her to do more, but he was also just so fucking relieved to have here here with him right now, feeling her desperation in every little kiss and warm, wet stroke of her tongue...
He whined a little when she pulled away, but was rewarded with the sweet sound of her laugh and her hand wrapping firmly around his dick, now slick with her saliva. Her hand glided swiftly along it, her eyes looking up at him through her eyelashes. And again, the sight drove him absolutely wild.
"Tell me what you want, baby," she whispered, moving her hand faster. "I'll do anything. Anything for you..."
"Just c—come here."
She stood up, keeping her hand attached to his dick as she stood on her tip-toes and kissed him. Their mouths moved together in frenzied harmony, and while she continued jerking him off, he slipped his hands under her shirt and cupped her breasts over her bra. She moaned gently into his mouth and was able to get out a hurried, "Bedroom."
They stumbled there, losing layers along the way until Y/N was just in her bra and panties and Spencer was wearing only his socks and his shirt, unbuttoned and hanging from his shoulders.
"Sit down," he told her softly, kneeling in front of the bed with a gleam in his eyes that mirrored the wickedness Y/N had possessed just moments earlier.
She smiled and obliged, perching herself on the edge of the bed and leaning back on her hands. It wasn't long before he was practically ripping her panties off and tossing them aside like they were a mere obstacle. And a split second later, his mouth was on her.
Her eyes fluttered closed as he wasted no time with pleasantries, quite literally digging in and burying his face into her pussy. He plunged his tongue as far inside of her as he could go, swirling it around as his nose brushed up against her clit. And he kept at that until she felt his finger slide into the mix, replacing his tongue as his lips pressed sloppy kisses to the inside of her thighs.
When his tongue found its way to her clit, flicking over it in tandem with the long, languid motions of his fingers, she moaned out his name rather obscenely.
This only gave him the confidence to take it a step further, curling his fingers just right to hit that sweet spot. Over and over again he hit it, causing her to yell out and grip the comforter as tightly as she could with one hand, the other doing the same to his hair. "Ohh, I'm gonna... fuck!"
Since his mouth was a bit occupied, he hummed against her in response, slightly rocking his head from side to side to give her that extra push to bring her over the edge.
Sure enough, right then she clenched around his fingers and he felt her body shudder against him. He drank up every second of it, savoring her taste and slowly finger-fucking her through each wave of pleasure until she was pulling his head away.
She almost came again at the way he looked in that moment. The lower half of his face was adorned in her arousal, and his tongue occasionally swiped out to get some off his lips. His hair was all mussed and out of place from the way she'd been tugging on it, meanwhile his eyes raked over her body in just about the most hungry way she'd ever seen from him. It was truly a sight to behold, one that she was sure she didn't need his memory to remember.
"Fuck, you're so good at that," Y/N sighed, gripping his hair again to pull him up. He got the message, climbing up and kissing her. The taste of herself transferring from his lips to hers made her groan into him. She brought her hands around to his neck and pulled them both backwards until he was straddling her hips, and impatient as ever, she lifted her lower half up to feel friction.
At her eagerness, Spencer laughed and held them down. "Not so fast, sweetheart. I set the pace this time."
She whined at his words, but nodded nonetheless. He grinned then, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead, right before settling himself over her and taking his sweet time sliding in. And as torturous as it was feeling him very slowly fuck her, she focused on the way his shirt still hung open over his body. She loved him in any capacity of course, but there was just something about that one stupid piece of fabric hanging from his figure that somehow made this moment all the more sexy. Any other time, she would have figured it was the urgency of it all that made it as hot as it was, but with the way Spencer was moving slower than a turtle, that obviously wasn't the case this time.
But whatever it was, all she knew in this moment was that she was fucking turned on as hell, and squirming underneath him.
"Patience, pretty girl," he chastised, shifting onto his knees and holding her hips down. "I thought you wanted this to last?"
"I—I do," she gasped out as he took one slow thrust forward.
"Don't you want to feel every single inch of me as I get deep inside you, hmm?" At that sentiment, Y/N's breath caught in her throat as he finally buried his dick to the hilt inside of her. And that breath escaped as a series of little whimpers as he stayed there and ground his hips in slow circles, burning her from the inside out. She reached out and gripped the sides of his shirt that hung from his chest, grateful for the extra leverage as she steadied her breathing.
He pulled out slowly and then repeated the process, and it was the most excruciating pleasure she'd ever felt. But she desperately wanted more. "Please," she whined out, pulling his shirt and trying to lift her hips up. "Go faster, please, I need it baby, I need it faster..."
He laughed so quietly she wasn't sure she actually heard it, but after he spoke, she was sure he had. "Mmm, I love it when you beg..."
The mirroring of her words had never sounded so delicious on his lips, especially after he pulled out and then slammed into her again, harder, and then setting a steady pace that kept her satisfied. She cried out, twisting his shirt in her hands and looking down between their bodies to watch his hips smoothly cant forward into her each time.
He took notice of this, squeezing her hips slightly as he spoke. "You like watching me fuck into you, sweetheart?"
"Uh huh," she whined out, biting her lip and letting go of his shirt. She gripped his arms instead, pulling on them slightly before reaching back to unclasp her bra.
Once she got it off and tossed it to the side, Spencer did what she silently told him she wanted and leaned forward, gripping her breasts rather than her hips. He massaged them roughly as his hips continued their steady pace back and forth.
"Fuck, baby, you always fill me up so fucking good," she said lowly, gripping his forearms and admiring how the veins in his wrists and hands looked as they strained against his skin.
He rewarded her words with a harder, quicker pace that caused his hands to grip her breasts even tighter to give him leverage. She moaned out and threw her head back, loving the feeling of him just using her like this, a feeling she hadn't experienced in so long that it was like coming home.
He must have read her mind, because he paused then, stilling inside her and grinding his hips slowly again, to which she cried out. "You feel that?" he asked slowly, throwing a little more of his weight on top of her. "You feel how deep I am, pretty girl? I bet you missed that feeling, huh?"
"Ohh, fuck, yes," she breathed, struggling to keep her eyes open. But she did anyway, feeling her walls flutter around him as he gazed at her hungrily. And then she spoke again. "I know you missed it, too... Fucking me like the dirty little whore I am."
Spencer hummed lowly. "Is that what you want?"
"Mhm," she responded in kind through a whine.
He pulled out of her then, leaving her empty and already missing his warmth. "Then get on your knees."
Y/N quickly did as she was told, flipping over and even wiggling her ass in the air in anticipation, with the biggest smile on her face. But the second he lined himself up with her entrance, he leaned over and pressed her shoulders down. "Face down..."
She didn't dare tell him otherwise. Actually, the fire that lit within her at his words was enough to keep her compliant anyway.
So when he took one sharp thrust forward and held himself inside of her, she sighed, clutching the blankets and wiggling her ass again.
"You want it so bad, you move," Spencer demanded, landing a firm smack to her left ass cheek.
The guttural moan that ripped through her was nothing short of pornographic as she set a quick pace rocking back and forth onto his dick. He slapped her other ass cheek after a few moments, and it elicited a pretty little yelp that had him practically throbbing with want inside of her. He repeated it a few times, watching her ass gradually grow redder with every smack, and the string of sounds and curses that came from Y/N's mouth started to sound more like tired cries.
"You gonna come again for me, sweetheart?"
"Mhm," she whined out desperately, clenching herself around him.
"Let me hep you, baby." With that, he gripped her hips and helped her move them back, thrusting his own forward to meet her halfway and making her cry out. "Go ahead, rub your clit for me. That's it, good girl... Mmm..."
She shook around him and cried out, clutching the pillow in front of her with one hand while the other worked her clit through her orgasm.
Spencer held her hips steady as he continued pumping in and out of her at a quick pace, not letting up even after she finished. "I'm almost there, sweetheart. Think you can take it a little longer?" She whined out incoherently, but he ran one of his hands gently over the curve of her ass. "I know you can, you're always such a good girl for me. You take my cock so well..."
His words made her clench around him again, and she held onto the blankets for dear life, moaning out at the sharpness of each of his strokes. She was most definitely overstimulated and sensitive, but it only made his twitching inside of her all the better.
He held himself inside of her as he came, whispering sweet praises and bending over her backside to press little kisses to her shoulders and stroke the hair from her face. This new angle sparked another little aftershock of her orgasm, the feeling of his warm cum spilling over as he gently fucked it into her being the thing that took her over the edge a third time.
Once they both settled down, her grip on the blankets nothing but a memory and his slow, gentle thrusts coming to a stop, Spencer grazed his hand over her cheek and down her neck.
"I'm gonna get up now, okay?" he said sweetly. "Just so you can straighten your legs out."
"Mhm," she answered, slowly groaning as he pulled out of her and helped her move her knees out from underneath her. She laid flat on her stomach, the feeling of his cum spilling out a worry for another time. If anything, it made her smile, as it stood a reminder of the sex she'd been craving for months.
Still, Spencer grabbed some wipes from the bedside table drawer and cleaned her up, throwing them away before he made his way back to bed and snuggled up beside her. He laid on his side as he faced her, and his hand came up to brush the side of her face again.
"You okay? Not feeling any pain? You don't need a hospital visit?"
Y/N rolled her eyes affectionately with a smile. Her hands were crossed and under her chin. "No, thank God. Though, even if I was hurt, I wouldn't tell you, because that sex was so worth it."
He laughed with her, though it was obvious he was still a little worried. "Well... I'm glad you're okay. But maybe we should take it easy for a week or two now, just to be safe."
"Absolutely fucking not. You know why?"
He opened his mouth, though whether to answer or retort, she wasn't sure, because she interrupted before he could get a word in. "Because we have a lot of catching up to do. So if we don't go at it again before we fall asleep tonight, I expect to see you bright and early when we wake up, with your head between my legs."
"Okay, silly girl," he agreed finally, with a laugh and light squeeze of her shoulder.
They laid in silence for a minute or two, just enjoying each others' company before Y/N spoke up again. "I'm really okay... I don't want you to think I'm just saying that to get you to have sex with me, I... I really mean that, because I know how much you care about me. And I love you for that, you know."
Spencer smiled and scooted closer to her, wrapping his arm around her back and pressing his forehead to her temple.
"I know. And I love you, too."
PERMANENT TAGLIST:
@elldell1204 @muffin-cup @calm-and-doctor @slutforthegubes @takeyourleap-of-faith @s1utformgg
If you would like to be added to the taglist, feel free to message me or leave a comment, and I’ll add you!
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andromedasstarship · 3 years
Text
are you free tomorrow?
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pairing - spencer reid x gn!reader
warnings - nothing! just a sweet & cliche ‘first meeting’ story  :)
summary - midterms are coming up and all the good cafes on campus are filled, maybe the sweet looking curly haired guy in the back will share his table with you?
a/n - for my valentines day oneshot series! 'every table is full, but i really need to study, is there any way we could share?'
-------
Stressed, was a simple way to explain the current state you were in. The semester had snuck up on you, moving faster than you had ever expected. As the fifth week was coming to a close, you were getting dangerously close to the storm of midterms you had waiting for you in the sixth week. And you desperately needed to study. The only thing stopping you- surprisingly not your own procrastination-, was that it seemed as if the rest of campus was also in the same predicament as you. 
This was the third cafe on campus that you had entered that was absolutely filled. 
Your eyes scanned around the room, hoping to catch someone in the middle of packing their things. Nope. You considered circling back through the other two cafes you’d just been in or maybe even just going off campus. Except you couldn’t justify wasting more time by circling the same few cafes over and over, nor could your college student budget justify paying for coffee when you could just use your allotted campus cash. 
Just as you were about to give up and leave- begrudgingly deciding that studying in your room would have to be good enough-, you spotted a man sitting alone towards the back of the cafe. He sat at a large table with plenty of space; even though he had one of the largest stacks of papers you’d ever seen one individual possess. 
You weighed your options, internally debating if it’d be worth potentially hurting your pride by asking him to share the table and getting rejected. Seeing as the other option was definitely hurting your pride by hovering the same cafes like a hungry park bird, you tightened your grip on your tote bag and started walking towards him.  
Whatever he was reading must’ve been exciting, as his focus didn’t stray even for a moment nor did he notice you at all until you were right up against the chair across from him. You awkwardly cleared your throat to catch his attention, giving him a tiny wave when he looked up at you. 
“Hi!” 
“Hello?” 
“I’m really sorry to bother you, just every table is full and I really need to study and I know it’s not the best, but could I share this table with you?” You asked anxiously, holding your breath as you waited for his answer. 
As he opened his mouth to respond, you quickly added. “I swear it’ll be like I’m not even here!”  
He gave you a ‘please calm down’ look and you felt some of the weight dissolve from your shoulders as he nodded his head. “Take a seat, no worry at all.” He told you, adding a kind smile as he looked back down at his stack of papers and pulled them closer; giving you more room at the table. 
You let your bag fall off your shoulder and hit the ground with a thunk, relieved to no longer be carrying the physical weight around. You clasped the top of the chair in front of you, leaning towards him just so. “Thank you,” you said, giving your best gracious smile, “let me get you a coffee or something?” 
He looked almost shocked- or was he flustered? you weren’t sure-, quickly shaking his head in response. “No! You don’t need to do that at all.” He assured you, but you weren’t so quick to back down. 
“It’s the least I can do, please?” You pressed, giving him a very exaggerated pleaaaase look, “with all those papers you must need some serious caffeine.” 
You thought he was going to continue this little back-and-forth with you, but you watched as his body relaxed ever so slightly, signs of what you hoped was him conceding. “Just a black coffee.” 
"Just black?" You countered, raising your eyebrow, leaving it unsaid that he was just choosing the cheapest drink they had.
"Room for cream? I'll fix it up myself." He replied.
----
From the line, you had your first opportunity to really give this guy a look. The papers in front of him had sucked him back in as soon as you stepped away from the table; meaning you weren’t too worried about him catching you in your little…, creeping moment. The student population was large, but it was still small enough that you found yourself repeatedly seeing the same strangers. Yet, you’d never seen this man before. And you were sure you would’ve remembered this man, had you seen him before. What? He was undeniably attractive. There was something about the way his hair just perfectly curled around his face that made you just want to reach out and ruff- that’s weird. Even his little sweater-tie-button up outfit was doing it for you. Maybe today won’t be so bad. 
The line moved quickly and you found yourself carrying the two drinks back over to the table in under five minutes. You set his cup by him, taking care to put it away from the massive stack of papers. You set your cup down next, sliding in the chair diagonal from him. 
“You know,” you started, hefting your bag up into the chair next to you, “I never got your name?”
“Thank you,” he quickly got out, holding up his coffee as he did so. “I’m Spencer, uh…, Spencer Reid.” He told you, a faint red creeping up from under his collar. 
You gave him your name in return, a bit distracted as you pulled more of your things from your bag. From the corner of your eye, you saw him hold his coffee up again, nodding his head towards the cream and sugar station before walking off to fix his drink up properly. 
In his absence, you pulled out the rest of your books, debating which subject you should tackle first. You were glad you were finally towards the end of your college career, meaning the majority of your classes were specific to your interests rather than a four hundred student gen-ed; not that it made you any more excited to study for this exam. 
When Spencer came back he set his coffee down with a slightly shaky hand. “Did you know coffee is actually classified as a fruit?” He asked, as he slid back into his seat against the wall. 
“I didn’t know that.” You replied, shaking your head. 
“The coffee bean itself grows on a bush and they’re actually the pit of a berry, which is what makes them a fruit. They come in two main varieties, green and red.” He rambled, as if reciting from some magic book stored in his brain. As soon as he was done he clamped his mouth shut, remembering how most people reacted to his ramblings. 
You raised an eyebrow at him, but your face didn’t show any signs of annoyance. “Big coffee fan Spencer?” 
“Big fan of facts.” He corrected, giving you a sheepish smile.
“Oh yeah? Well you seem pretty smart then, which class should I study for first?” You asked, holding up two of your textbooks.
He looked at both books curiously, trying to take a guess at what your major might’ve been. He pointed at the one in your left hand. God’s, Monsters and Mortals. 
“Are you an…, English major?” He guessed, wondering if the book was some supplement for a unit on the Iliad. Not to mention the other book you held up was quite literally called ‘Literature Through The Ages’. 
You shook your head, putting the book he chose down on the table while you returned the other one to your bag. “Close! Classics,” you said, giving him a sheepish grin, “I know, it’s a bit niche, kinda ridiculous, but there’s something about how we immortalized memories of ancient times through literature that are just fascinating. There’s something about the lessons of the past that I think a lot of people are ignoring today, ya know?” You replied, quickly closing your mouth before you’d go on some incredibly long tangent about your interests and studies. Didn’t you say it’d be like you weren’t even here?  
“No, no!” He hurriedly said, shaking his head. “Understanding the lessons and patterns of the past and how they’ve morphed humanity today? That’s cool!” He assured you. 
“Well what about you, Spencer Reid? What’s your major, you must have some horrible professors, if that stack of papers is the norm.” You joked, liking the way the corner of his eyes crinkled as he smiled. 
“I’m uh…, a professor here.” He responded, his face cringing ever so slightly as he watched your mouth drop open simultaneously as your eyes nearly fell out of your head. 
“You’re a…, professor?” You repeated, extremely confused as to how someone who looked only a few years older than you was somehow employed to such a degree. 
“Just a visiting one!” He clarified, clearing his throat. “I’m on a sort of, uh, sabbatical from work.” 
“Isn’t a sabbatical when someone gets away from academia?” You countered, smiling to show you meant no actual aggression. 
“Big fan of facts, remember?” He repeated plainly, but you caught the joke in it and you smiled wider at that. 
“No offense Professor, but you look a bit young to ya know, be one.” You said, hoping he’d give his age in response. 
“I’m 29.” Ah, only four years older than you. 
“29 and already a professor at a university like this? What, do you have like 20 Phds. or something?” You asked jokingly, laughing a bit as you said so. 
“Three actually.” He replied, a mix of shyness and pride across his face.
Your mouth dropped back open again, trying to wrap your mind around the man in front of you. “What are you? A genius then?” 
“By some standards, yes.”  
The two of you fell into a comfortable silence after that. Him paying special attention to each paper he graded- you wished all your professors cared about student work the way he seemed to-, while you were busy deciding which parts of the taught units were the most important. 
After what you imagined was nothing short of four hours you felt your head begin to throb and your eyes were starting to go fuzzy. In that time, the two of you had downed at least five coffees each, going back and forth over who paid for them. You had managed to create an individual study guide for nearly all your upcoming exams and a quick glance told you that Spencer still had a few papers left. Unbeknownst to you he could have finished those papers hours ago, even with the in depth comments he entered into the computer for each one; there was just something about you that drew him in.  
He wasn’t sure whether it was the funny unfiltered comments you’d make sporadically while you worked or the way you actually seemed to be interested in every little tangent he had gone on whenever one of his students brought up a particularly good or amusing point in their papers’. His therapist had recently recommended that he engage in conversations with those not already well acquainted with him and it seemed like the world had lined up perfectly to put you in front of him so soon after. 
You loudly slammed your textbook shut with a groan and let your head fall against the table. “Why does academia have to be so boring?” You asked rhetorically, bringing one hand up to pinch the bridge of your nose. “Is it some requirement to get published? Your work needs to put college kids to sleep?”  
“The works that you’re reading are quite literally ancient, in their defense. The term ‘academia’ itself comes from the school of thought taught by Plato himself in ancient Athens.” Spencer explained, putting down the paper he had been grading. 
“And now, all these years later I have to suffer because Plato was such a bore.” You sighed dramatically, rolling your eyes. 
“You said you were studying the downfall of Icarus weren’t you?” He asked, once again unbeknownst to you, he remembered everything you had said today. “It’s one of my favorites of ancient Greek mythology. The power of the mind of man, yet how quickly that very power could be taken away if man oversteps. Really makes us wonder if we’ve overstepped as humans yet, if we use Icarus’s fall, quite literally from grace, as a lens for other devastations we’ve seen across history then-” 
“Spencer, are you free tomorrow?” You asked, effectively cutting him off. 
He looked a bit like a fish, the way you had stopped him mid sentence and his mouth hadn’t yet closed. His eyebrows turned up, head tilting with them. “Tomorrow? The 14th?” 
“Yeah, are you free tomorrow?” You repeated, holding back your nerves. 
“Oh.” He said, eyes going wide as you assumed he finally connected the dots, “Oh!” 
You were about to speak again, retract your question completely before he could reject you, suddenly wondering why you decided to go out on whim like that at all. But he beat you to it. 
“Yes, yes I am.” 
------
happy valentines day (almost) i love yall!!
tagging a few people who asked + a few mutuals i think might like this (no pressure!!) - @hqtchner @ssahoodrathotchner @kylorendrip @feverdreamreid @homoose 
permanent taglist - @sunflowersandotherthings
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thelemontree · 3 years
Text
Wish You Were Here (Spencer Reid x Reader)
Pairing: Spencer Reid x f!Reader
Kinktober prompt: masturbation / simultaneous orgasms / nipple play
Summary: Spencer has a surprise in store for you to let you know how much he misses you when you travel across the country for a work conference.
Word count: 2.8k
Warnings: masturbation (m & f), fingering, cyber sex/skype sex, nipple play/nipple clamps, hella dirty talk, light dom/sub dynamics, language, some fluff
A/N: Kinktober prompt #2 for y’all! Also, if you see this on AO3 under the username RoseWaves... That’s us! I made it before I decided to start cross-posting fics and just can’t be bothered to change the username lmao. Enjoy!
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Y/N let out a sigh of contentment as she stepped out of the shower and shrugged on the big, fluffy hotel robe. She had just spent the day traveling from Washington, D.C. to Los Angeles, California for a conference, and the first thing she did when she finally settled into her hotel room was take a long, steamy shower. She ran a towel through her hair to dampen it as she walked back into the bedroom area of her hotel room, discarding it on the desk chair and picking up her cell phone from the table. Unlocking it, she smiled at the text notification she had gotten.
From: Spencer
Hey you. Facetime me when you’re all settled :)
Not bothering to change into her pajamas just yet, Y/N settled into the hotel bed, sitting up against the headboard. She dialed Spencer’s number, tuning out the dial tone as she waited for him to answer. She smiled widely when he finally answered and his face popped up on the screen.
“Hey, you,” Spencer said with a warm smile. Y/N could tell he was on the couch in their living room, dressed down for the evening in a soft looking white t-shirt. “How was your flight?”
“Hi, babe. It was alright. Long. I’m beat. I hate traveling,” she said with a sigh. Spencer chuckled, knowing all too well how deeply her disdain for traveling ran. “I miss you.”
“I miss you, too. But you’re only gonna be gone for a couple of days, and then you come home and I get you all to myself again,” Spencer said with a smile. Y/N felt her heart flutter at the thought. 
Being in a relationship was difficult sometimes, their lines of work both requiring them to be away from each other for extended periods of time. When Spencer first asked Y/N to be his girlfriend, she was hesitant to accept--she worried that the amount of time they’d have to spend away from each other would drive them apart, and she didn’t think she could handle the pain of losing him over logistics. But Spencer flashed her a soft smile, asked her to take a chance on him, and she found that she really just couldn’t say no to him. So she said yes. And it was a good thing she did, because she quickly fell head over heels in love with him (as he did with her), and she just knew that nothing--not even jobs that constantly put miles in between them--would change that.
The couple chatted for a bit, talking about Spencer’s work day, Y/N’s excitement at being a guest speaker at the anthropology conference she’d traveled to Los Angeles for. Before she had even realized it, they’d spent over an hour talking, only being interrupted by a big and unexpected yawn from Y/N.
“Wow, I didn’t really realize just how tired I was until now,” Y/N said sleepily. “I think I need to go to bed, Spence.”
“Before you do,” Spencer said quickly, not sounding tired at all. “I need you to do something for me.” 
There was a hint of mischief in his voice that Y/N was all too familiar with. He was up to something, but what that something was, she wasn’t sure yet. (Although, she may have had an inkling of an idea--spending so much time away from each other had required them to get creative with how they got in alone time together.)
“Oh?” Y/N asked, raising a brow at her boyfriend. He smirked back at her. “And what might that be?”
“Open the left-side pocket of your suitcase. I put a little surprise in there for you.”
Y/N got off the bed and walked over to where her suitcase was sat next to the dresser, phone still in hand. She set the phone down on the dresser top as she crouched down and unzipped the left-side pocket of her suitcase, reaching in to grab what Spencer had snuck inside there. When her fingers brushed the cool feeling of metal, she drew in a sharp breath, knowing exactly what they were. She gripped in her hand and pulled them out, standing quickly and retrieving her phone as she walked back over to the bed.
“We don’t have to play tonight if you really wanna go to bed, but I just thought I’d throw the option out in case you were interested.”
Y/N didn’t respond for a few moments, staring intently at Spencer’s face on her phone screen as she weighed her options.
On the one hand, she really was tired. She had had a long travel day and she needed to be up early for the first day of her conference. But on the other hand, she had a perfectly good pair of nipple clamps in the palm of her hand, waiting to be used, and a boyfriend who was eager to see them on her. Plus, she knew she’d sleep a little bit better after an orgasm…
The choice she made was an easy one.
“Give me five minutes to get my laptop set up and I’ll call you back.”
Spencer smirked at her answer, knowing that she wouldn’t say no to him once she discovered the nipple clamps he snuck into her suitcase. He threw a wink and said, “See you in a few,” before disconnecting the facetime call.
Quickly, Y/N deposited her phone on the nightstand and rushed over to her backpack, pulling her laptop out. She opened it and set it on the bed, positioning it so Spencer would have a full view of her. After discarding her robe onto the floor, Y/N situated herself on the bed, sitting against the headboard, making sure she was not only comfortable, but that Spencer would be able to see everything when he answered. As soon as the laptop was booted up, Y/N opened Skype and clicked on Spencer’s contact, hitting the call button. Anticipation swirled in her belly as she waited for him to answer.
When he did answer, Y/N smirked to herself to find him in their bed now, shirtless, his own laptop perched on his legs, giving her a nice view of the bulge currently straining against the fabric of his boxers. He groaned at the sight of her, fully nude and waiting for him to tell her what to do.
“God, you’re so beautiful,” Spencer said, his voice laced with arousal and a hint of love. Y/N felt her cheeks heat up at the compliment.
“You’re not too bad yourself, Dr. Reid.”
Spencer’s eyes fell to her chest and he tilted his head when he noticed her nipples were bare. “You didn’t put them on yet, baby?”
Although he phrased it as a question, it was a statement. Y/N knew how he wanted her to respond to it.
“You didn’t tell me to put them on yet, so I didn’t.”
Spencer chuckled, his eyes darkening. “Good girl. I don’t want you to put them on just yet. Wanna see you first.”
“What do you wanna see first?” Y/N asked a little breathlessly, her fingertips ghosting over the skin of her chest, her skin raising in little goosebumps. Spencer hmmed at the sight.
“Spread your legs. I want to see if you’re wet yet.”
Y/N obeyed quickly, spreading her legs wide and giving Spencer a full view of her pussy. She had started to get wet the second she touched the nipple clamps in her suitcase and she’d only gotten wetter since they’d started to play. Spencer moved one hand down to his hardened cock, still clothed behind his boxers. He palmed himself, hissing at the slight pressure.
“What a sight you are. Touch yourself, baby. Get your fingers nice and wet for me, okay?” Spencer instructed.
Y/N nodded and trailed one hand down her body, her fingers reaching her pussy and sliding through her slick slit. The tips of her fore and middle finger caught on her entrance, but she stopped herself from pushing them in. Spencer hadn’t said she could do that yet.
Spencer had freed his cock from his boxers by now and he was stroking it languidly, taking in the view of his girlfriend through his computer screen. He noticed she stopped and he knew why. The image made him smirk.
“You can put your fingers inside yourself, baby. Fuck yourself slowly. Just don’t cum yet,” Spencer said, his voice a bit raspy now. He groaned as he watched Y/N slowly push her two fingers inside her pussy, her soft whimper making his cock twitch in his hand.
Y/N did as Spencer had told her and she fucked her two fingers in and out of herself slowly. It felt good, but it wasn’t nearly enough to make her cum or even really bring her close to the edge. She knew that Spencer knew that, too, and this was just a prelude to whatever he had planned next.
“That’s it, baby, nice and slow. Tell me how it feels,” Spencer rasped, continuing to languidly stroke himself.
“Good,” Y/N whimpered out. “Feels good. Not enough, though. Wish it were your fingers. Or your cock.”
“God, I wish it were my fingers or my cock too, baby. As soon as you’re home, I’ll fuck you as hard as you want me to. But for now,” Spencer grunted softly, gripping the base of his dick to keep himself on the edge. “Take your fingers out of your pussy. Show me how wet you got them.”
Y/N slowly pulled her two fingers out of herself with a groan. Her fingers were covered in her slick, glistening in the low light of her hotel room. She held her fingers up towards the camera for Spencer to see.
“Good girl. Touch your tits for me, get your nipples wet. Then put the clamps on, make ‘em as tight as you can handle.”
With a nod, Y/N got to work, her hands moving to grope at her breasts. First she rubbed her slick covered fingers over her right nipple, moaning as it hardened, before moving on to the left, repeating the motion. She squeezed her soft flesh and tweaked her nipples a few more times for good measure before grabbing the nipple clamps from the nightstand next to her. She took the first one and attached it to her right nipple, letting out a soft hiss at the pressure. She then put the other clamp on her left nipple. Once they were both attached, she took hold of each screw on the sides of the clamps and twisted them tight, until she couldn’t take anymore.
Y/N pulled her hands away from her breasts with a whine, her breaths coming out in heavy pants. The pressure was almost too much, but it was just the way she liked it. She could feel them throbbing and it sent a jolt of arousal straight to her core. Without having to be told to, Y/N pushed her chest forward a bit, giving Spencer a clear display of her nipples clamped tightly.
Spencer let out an appreciative hum at the sight. “You look so good, baby. Ready for more?”
“Yes,” Y/N gasped out, resisting the urge to touch herself. She wouldn’t until Spencer said she could.
“Touch yourself. However you want, I don’t fucking care. Just wanna watch you.” Spencer had resumed stroking himself now, his grip tight and his movements fast. Y/N could tell that watching her attach the nipple clamps had worked him up and he was desperate to cum.
Luckily for them, she was too.
Y/N didn’t waste any more time, bending her knees and spreading her legs wide, her feet planted on the bed on either side of her laptop. Her right hand trailed down her belly until it came into contact with her clit, the feeling of her fingertips on her sensitive bud making her jerk. She hooked her other arm underneath her leg for better access to her entrance, where she quickly shoved two fingers inside of herself as she began to rub her clit in circles. The combination of both hands on her pussy and the clamps on her nipples sent shockwaves through her body, and she quickly found herself close to the edge.
“So pretty touching yourself for me baby,” Spencer grunted, his voice strained. Y/N met his eyes through the screen of her laptop and whimpered at the sight of him. Knowing that watching her touch herself was getting Spencer off spurred her on.
“Feels so fucking good,” Y/N breathed out. She let out a choked moan when she crooked her fingers upwards to graze her sweet spot. “I’m so close, baby. Wanna cum for you. Please let me cum for you.”
“I’m almost there. Wanna cum with you Y/N, keep going, fuck,” Spencer huffed. A bead of sweat fell from his forehead and trailed down his nose, landing on his upper lip. He stuck his tongue out to lick it away and Y/N’s pussy clenched at the sight.
She continued to thrust her fingers in and out of herself as she rubbed her clit in fast, tight circles. Y/N could feel the coil in her belly tightening, the throbbing in her nipples intensifying, and she knew it would only be a matter of moments before she shattered.
“Please, Spence,” Y/N sobbed out, her head thrown back in pleasure. “I n-need to cum.”
“Look at me,” Spencer said, his voice wrecked. Y/N lifted her head to look at him through lidded eyes. He looked as wrecked as he sounded, and she figured she probably looked much the same. “Cum with me, baby. Let me see you.”
Y/N kept her eyes locked on Spencer’s as best she could as she continued to work herself over. She grazed her sweet spot once, twice more before the coil in her belly finally snapped. Her eyes struggled to stay open as her orgasm washed over her, her body shaking and her pussy clenching her fingers in a vice grip. She only vaguely registered the low moan Spencer let out as his own orgasm overtook him, thick spurts of cum coating his hand and belly.
They both sat there for a moment as they caught their breaths, neither of them saying anything or moving. Finally, Y/N pulled her fingers out of herself with a whimper, shaking out her wrist as it had started to cramp. Spencer chuckled at the sight and Y/N sent him a sheepish smile.
“Don’t go anywhere, I’ll be right back,” Spencer said as he sat his laptop down on the bed, carefully not to touch it with his sticky hand. He walked out of sight, presumably to clean himself up, and Y/N took the opportunity to do the same. She grabbed a tissue from the nightstand to wipe her fingers off, tossing it in the bin before reaching up to undo the nipple clamps which were starting to hurt. She hissed when the cool metal freed her warm skin. She massaged her nipples a bit to ease some of the irritation before grabbing her robe and putting it back on.
Spencer had returned by the time she finished tying the robe’s belt around herself, clad in a sleep shirt and clean pair of boxers. He smiled at Y/N through the screen.
“Was that a nice surprise?” he asked, his tone cocky. He already knew the answer to that--he just wanted to hear her say it.
Y/N giggled with a fond roll of her eyes. “Yes, it was a nice surprise. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. I’m glad we could do that. I miss you.”
Y/N’s heart fluttered in her chest at his words. She knew as well as he did just how hard it was being away from each other, even if they could indulge in their little games.
“I miss you too, babe. But I’ll be home before you know it.” Y/N cut herself off with a big yawn. She really was tired, and the impromptu Skype sex only exacerbated it.
“You’re tired. Go get some sleep. You’ve got a big day tomorrow, miss guest speaker. I’ll talk to you in the morning, yeah?” Spencer said with a soft smile. Y/N nodded at him.
“Yes, first thing. I love you, Spence.”
“I love you too, Y/N. Goodnight.”
Spencer ended the call and Y/N stared at the screen with a dazed smile on her face. She missed him terribly, but being able to connect like that made it a little bit easier. She shut her laptop down and turned the hotel room lights off, snuggling down into the soft bed, and she fell fast asleep, counting down the days until she could be back home with him.
348 notes · View notes
collecting-stories · 4 years
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Alright - JJ Maybank
Request: hey! can i request a jj maybank x reader? basically just a MASSIVE fluff dump?? like jj loves to protect his girl but he's a huge softie who wants to be held by her & wants to be good enough so one night at a party he gets drunk & he spills all that, saying how his dad makes him feel like he's not good enough for her, & so maybe the prompt is the next day, where he's just so emotionally exhausted & wants to be loved and called petnames & he's super clingy & maybe there's a couple tears but FLUFF
A/N: I think there are always songs that stick with you, for whatever reason, and when I was younger my mom used to listen to this Sara Groves song ‘It’s Gonna Be Alright’ and I was thinking about it when I wrote this.
Outer Banks Masterlist
The alarm that you had set at the beginning of summer, in hopes of not falling out of a routine and in hopes of actually waking up and doing yoga or something positive instead of hitting snooze, went off from the other side of the room. 
The soft sound of Ed Sheeran’s Kiss Me not registering in your more-than-tired state of mind. With eyes still closed and mind a little fogged you tried to place yourself. Were you home? Had you stayed at John B’s after the party or had you been sober enough to drive yourself home?  
You could feel a weight against your side and realized, with some help as you pulled yourself up in bed, that you were in your room and that JJ was there too. You sat up enough that you were propped on your pillows, reaching for your phone as Ed reached the chorus, hitting the button on the side to silence him for now, moments from the night before coming back to you.  
Pogue parties were legendary on the island and JJ was an infamous character among these parties. Was it even a party if he wasn’t there, spouting off some bullshit tall-tale and involving himself in antics that would be talked about for weeks afterward? You were only a supporting character in these nights, or at least, you usually were. It’d been a bad week at home though, when JJ was home, and you had argued with him not to even go to the party.
“Lets just stay at here, we can watch movies or something.” You had urged when he started riffling through the pile of his clothes that had been left on the desk chair in your room. He had been sleeping on your couch since Sunday.  
“I don’t wanna watch movies. I need a beer...or twelve.” He replied. He wasn’t ungrateful that your mom had taken him in during what he called a ‘rough patch’ at home but she didn’t allow alcohol in the house and the dependence he’d already developed was making him go a little stir crazy.  
“JJ...I just don’t think it’s a good idea to go out tonight.” You stressed.  
The last thing he needed right now was something to kill what little filter he had. He was agitated at everything and you knew it was only a matter of time before something worse than being dared into surfing naked at midnight happened.  
“Well mom, feel free to stay the fuck home.”  
Of course, you didn’t. You got dressed and went with JJ because the only thing worse than going to a party when he was that out of it was letting him go alone. You could remember going with him but you couldn’t remember being designated driver which meant that you definitely drank which explained the fuzziness you were having piecing all the events together in your head.  
JJ was still sleeping beside you, on his stomach facing the window. You sat up further and picked your phone up, awake enough to check texts and drink some water to get rid of your dry mouth but not awake enough for anything that required leaving the bed.  
The party was down at the boneyard; as if that was the only stretch of beach in the OBX worth drinking on. You tagged along and-
A long, muffled groan interrupted you as you texted with Kiara about a video she’d taken the night prior and drew your attention toward JJ, who was pushed himself up onto his elbows. His head hung for a moment before he picked it up and turned to look at you, hair falling into his eyes.  
“What are you doing?” The whining undertone in his voice betrayed his age for just a moment, making him sound like a kid. He sat the rest of the way up to his knees, pushing the blanket down passed his ankles.
“Texting Kiara.” You replied, holding your phone up for him to see. Technically you were waiting for her to text you back.
JJ frowned, a pout scrunching up his nose and pushing out his bottom lip as he processed the information. There wasn’t much he remembered from the night before aside from actually going to the party. After that was just blackout, which he knew you had been trying to avoid by convincing him to stay home but it hadn’t worked and now he could practically feel his head pounding.  
He reached for the phone, taking it from your hands and tossing it somewhere onto your carpeted floor. “JJ! What the hell?”  
The strangled groan was back as he rubbed as his eyes, “so loud.”
“You threw my phone across the room JJ, how am I supposed to not be loud about that?” You whispered harshly.  
JJ shifted to sit on his butt, scooting closer to you in bed and trying to pull you back into a position where you could lay down with him. “Stop being mean to me, I don’t feel good.” He muttered, “I just wanna cuddle.”
“You don’t feel good because you have a hangover babe.” You teased, leaning back against the pillows but keeping yourself propped up. JJ continued to shift in bed until he made himself comfortable, laying on his back with his head on your chest. You brought one leg up and he twisted his arm so he could run his hand over your knee.  
“I don’t feel good cause my girlfriend is being mean to me.” He replied, the smile that settled on his face as you combed through his hair with your fingers betrayed his words.  
“I’m sorry, you threw my phone though J, it could’ve broken.” You pointed out. It wouldn’t be the first time JJ had cracked your phone. He’d once stepped on it trying to lift you up and carry you to bed. Your phone had slipped out of your pocket and JJ’s heavy booted foot had come down right on the screen, crunching it beyond use. “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing...I just wanna lay with you.” He tilted his head to the side so he could see you though he kept his eyes closed, a move you recognized as him wanting a kiss more than him trying to look at you.  
You kissed his forehead so that you wouldn’t have to change positions and continued to play with his hair, your other hand laying across his chest, holding the hand not rubbing your knee. It was a tangle of limbs and odd angles but it was a comfortable position for the most part, one that allowed you to hold him.  
“JJ-”
“I don’t wanna talk about it.” JJ had been avoiding the topic of his dad since Sunday, pushing it all down and trying his hardest to lock it away so that he didn’t have to deal with what he was feeling. He hated that those bad feelings lingered, that they followed him to hangouts at the Chateau or The Wreck, that he couldn’t just leave them behind when the screen door on his porch slammed shut after him. He definitely didn’t want to talk about them with you. And not because he didn’t trust you or love you or think you were capable of understanding and empathizing but because he wanted you to see him happy and in control of himself.  
“Okay,” you squeezed his hand, trying to ease him into sleep again. You knew he was still tired from the night before and no doubt he was dealing with a massive headache. It was silent for a moment and you thought maybe he had fallen back to sleep that quickly when you felt him shift against you and the sound of sniffling. At first you didn’t say anything, unsure if he wanted you to acknowledge the fact that he was crying or just ignore it and pretend to be oblivious. It was hard to know with him.  
When you couldn’t block it out anymore without a knot of guilt twisting in your stomach you spoke, “JJ?”
He didn’t say anything and you almost thought he was holding his breath to get you to ignore him.  
“Babe?” You heard a sniffle and continued to brush his hair, twisting little pieces of it in your fingers. When he continued to cry again you shushed him quietly, “it’s gonna be okay, I’m right here. I love you so much Jay, you’re okay, we’re safe.”
JJ pulled your hand up to his mouth, kissing the back of it and you could feel his tears wetting your skin as he pressed his lips to your wrist. Whatever catalyst had brought about last night’s wild antics it had dissolved into this, a version of your boyfriend you didn’t see often, one who was something beyond vulnerable? Laid open perhaps, scars on display. You repeated your words over and over until they sounded like a mantra meant to put him to sleep.  
When he woke later on he’d stumble out of bed for some Advil and pretend like nothing ever happened and for now you would let him.  
-
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fandom-monium · 3 years
Text
For the Holidays - Part 5
Summary: In which there is no forgiveness or grudges. Only chance. “Okay, let’s try.”
WC: 1.3k
Tags/Warnings: Spencer Reid x GN!Reader, fake-dating, pining (so much pining), fluff, slight angst but not from unnecessary trauma, emotional-support Reader, reunion arc, song fic, FINAL PART
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I can deal with the bad nights When I'm with my baby, yeah Ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh
“So, what’s the plan?”
Spencer runs a hand through his hair. “I’m not sure.”
He really isn’t. But that’s because he isn’t thinking.
It’s not often a brilliant mind like Spencer’s, usually if not always running, finds itself in a deep lull. For once, he’s not contemplating his next step or calculating how to get the best possible outcome. He’s not sprinting to be productive.
He’s just… existing.
What a rarity.
In the dark, deserted library time has slowed to a stop. If cheery holiday tunes and the murmur of guests didn't continue to float down the halls, it's almost like you're in your own little time pocket. He imagines this is an alternate reality, one consisting of only the two of you; there's no unsubs to hurt you or tear you apart, rip you away from each other when you’re just within reach. It’s just the two of you, existing together.
Add the catharsis of crying and you warm against his side, it's the perfect sedative. He's completely lethargic.
He wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.
Unfortunately, no matter how much he wants to stay, all good things come to an end. Your little bubble pops when thunder crackles outside.
You watch him carefully. "Are you... ready to head back?"
Spencer nearly gives himself whiplash, snapping his head to you. You wince, not needing to see his face, hearing the betrayal in his voice. "What? Why would I want to go back?”
“Hey, it’s just a suggestion,” You put your hands up in defense, voice thoughtful as you shrug. “We did come for a reason, and here they are on a silver platter. I know it's not going exactly as you imagined it but—”
“Are you saying I should forgive them?” Forgive comes in a hiss.
You grimace. “What? No, that's not what I was saying. You heard Alexa.”
He glances away, and he knows you catch the slight turn of his head because you’re a profiler and you’re trained. He’s embarrassed; he’d been blindsided, disoriented, by his own rage and confusion that he couldn’t register anything passed ‘sorry’.
Understandable. You’d probably go into shock too if your childhood bullies dropped the retribution bomb over a decade later.
You continue, “Well if you'd been listening, you'd know they want to try to get to know you. Or at least understand you? I kind of get where they're coming from, but I don't think it'll do harm to give them a chance."
After a moment of deliberation, Spencer groans, "How is it between the two of us, you're the voice of reason?"
"Ha ha. Just because you're the genius doesn't make you always right."
"I never said I am!"
"Yeah but you were thinking it. Now come on, let's head back," You stand up and offer your hand. There’s a flash of lightning, and for a second he catches your eyes, steadfast and dancing in the dark. Maybe you didn’t give him an award-winning pep-talk, but the way you look at him makes him feel like he can survive the night at least.
You make him feel strong.
Here you are, in this dusty library. He’s had two break downs since arriving and you didn’t even blink.
You’ve matched him step for step, never faltering.
Another streak flashes from the window, and your lips curl into a shadow of a smile. "Operation: Holidate is a go."
Maybe. Just maybe he can match yours.
Yes. If he can survive tonight, everything will  be fine. It’s the least he can do, making you come all this way. Make your time here worth while.
And who knows? He might actually gain something from all this.
Taking your hand, Spencer gives in and you pull him up. He lets you guide him back to the entrance, your footsteps echoing through the hall as you make your way to the gym, music pounding over the rumbling thunder.
He doesn't let go. If you're bothered you say nothing.
"So Holidate? Is that what you're calling this?"
“Okay, you know what, Doctor? I’d like to see you come up with a better name.”
“Well—”
“That doesn’t involve some obscure reference to literature or philosophy or Star Trek.”
“Actually, I was going to suggest-”
“Or Doctor Who.”
“... Holidate it is.”
Christmas music fills the gym. The night has turned the elegance of the reunion into a nightclub as people dance with drunken laughter and off-key singing, and as far as you can tell, the group hadn't left the table, shouting over the music and exchanging hesitant looks. They have the decency to stand as you approach.
Spencer clutches your hand and you squeeze it. He squeezes back.
Harper opens her mouth, "Reid—"
"Before you say anything," Spencer clears his throat, gathering his thoughts. "I'm... sorry for what I said before. Not that it didn't need to be said, but I could have worded things better and I shouldn't have lashed out the way I did." Brown eyes harden, distrustful and terrified. "Did you mean what you said before? About making amends and trying to become friends?"
With a collective murmur, they nod, "Yes."
"And you understand I don't have to accept your apology. That I don't have to forgive you?"
"Yes, of course."
Pain flits across Alexa, Harper, and the team's faces, expressions grim. As if they don't like the possibility he won't forgive them but know better than to argue. That he at least has the right. Good.
Spencer's eyes roam over them. And under tinted lights he sees them.  He doesn’t feel like he’s been dropped back in time. He's no longer twelve and they're no longer teenagers. Formal dresses and suits don’t seem as strange on them anymore. His suit doesn't feel like it hangs off him, suddenly fitting, the watch over his sleeve nice and snug around his wrist, and his slacks less baggy.
They're adults; they've learned from their mistakes and are mature enough to own up to them. Mature enough to confront them.
Spencer swallows, takes a breath, before gripping your hand tighter. The storm roars above you, drowned out by With You This Christmas.
"Okay. Let's try."
Strange, the words leaving his lips a weight lifting off their shoulders. There's sighs of relief, and you take your seats at the table.
He feels your hand shift in his. You haven't let go since you dragged him out the library, his safe haven—God, how he misses it already—and his heart sighs as your thumb circles the back of his hand comfortingly.
So what if it's awkward? So what if it's uncomfortable and tense? So what if he wants to make a dash for the nearest exit?
Spencer knows this will be hard, the road to forgiveness. A part of him doesn't even want to try.
But as you meet his eyes and give him a reassuring smile, seemingly unbothered by his sweaty palms, Spencer tries to relax. Under your warm gaze every muscle, every part of him wound tight like a spring trap ready to go off seems to release.
You look at him like he can carry the world on his shoulders. If you asked him to, he certainly would try.
And he realizes it won't be so bad because you're here. You are here, you have no intention of leaving, and he has your full support.
Spencer can't think of a better person he'd rather have his back. No matter what happens, it'll be fine, as long as he's by your side.
Even if it’s just for the holidays.
AN: Status: Finished - 5/5. Open ending unlocked.
Yes, I did drop that title.
I remember bopping to I Don’t Care by Ed Sheeran and Justin Bieber and thinking this would be a good song fic for Spencer if he went to his hs reunion. Then this baby came along. Initially, it was supposed to be a one-shot but after 8k i thought it was better as a mini series.
I’m quite proud, leaving the ending open. Whether he forgives them or not is up to yall. 
The fake dating was always a bi-product to the plot! This was supposed to be about confronting his past okay.
Thank you for reading! See you in my next mini series!!
92 notes · View notes
jeogiyall · 4 years
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Pas De Deux; H.HJ
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Word Count; 9.7k
Genre; Fluff, Childhood Best Friends to Lovers, Reader X Hyunjin
Warnings; Swearing, Suggestive, I would advise against reading if you have abandonment issues? It’s brought up a few times,,
Additional; Featured Chan, Felix, Jisung, and Minho; Ballerina Reader, Dance Partner Hyunjin, Reid once again writing about something that she has no idea how to do, (Sort Of) Slow Burn
A/N; when i tell u guys that i literally have no self control,, THE ORIGINAL DRAFT OF THIS WAS 10.46K ASFDSFS someone save me from myself. i’m sorry if anything’s inaccurate, i haven’t done ballet since i was like five and most of my research is from the unreliable internet,,, so if any ballerinas read this and are repulsed i’m sorry asdfdsa. please leave something nice if you enjoy <3<3<3<3
The last time that you saw Hwang Hyunjin was in fifth grade. You were wrapped up in each other on your front porch, him choking out tears as though it hurt. 
“Jinnie!” You cooed while running a hand through his short black hair, “I’m not dying, just going to boarding school!” His cries (along with the ringing guilt in your ears) only grew louder, “You’re really good at dancing, just audition next year!” He shook his head fervently against the crook of your shoulder, wet tears falling onto your skin.
“You know I suck at ballet!” If it weren’t for his palms pulling at his teary cheeks you would’ve giggled, maybe even teased him for the time in class that he almost broke his wrist while warming up at the barre. But he was crying, he was sad, and he was convinced that he’d never see you again. The sight alone was enough to make you pout, which only served to make him cry harder, “You could join my contemporary class for the summer?” He asked with starry, red eyes. It was almost enough to make you say yes.
“You know that I suck at contemporary!” The boy giggled at your counter, a sound that made your heart soar amidst all of the crying.
“Yea, you do...” He brought a hand up to his cheeks, trying desperately to wipe away tears that wouldn’t stop falling, “Just promise that you won’t forget me! I won’t forget you so you can’t forget me!” His pinky finger extended so it was nearly brushing the spot in between your eyebrows, and you were hit by the whispers of your first crush. With the summer days spent riding scooters in your driveway, and the winter ones spent sledding in it. With the long nights spent giggling about nothing underneath a blanket fort, or the endless days spent climbing trees in the bottomless woods behind the boys house. You were hit with the last five years all at once, and you knew instantly that even if he wasn’t standing in front of you with a teary face that you would still promise.
“I promise.” You answered while hooking your pinky in his as if it were a vow.
The school ended up being a perfect fit, your favorite part being the dorm room all to yourself. Even though it was small, and very ugly, it was all yours. Just like the friend group that blossomed out of your first ever co-ed class (which is sadly not a very interesting story. Han Jisung just made you swear to not dislocate his shoulders during partner stretches, and who are you to break a promise? Afterwards you received an invite to sit with him and his friend at lunch, the rest is history. Loud, annoying history.)
Nothing could’ve made it better... Well, nothing except for your sweet friend who had once occupied each thought in your head. Your sweet friend who’s summers were suddenly too full to see you, even for just a day. 
Your sweet friend who didn’t keep his promise.
When it was announced that the contemporary and ballet branches of your dance institute would be merging for a year, your mind immediately jumped to Hyunjin. Despite not seeing him for almost six years. He always had such a passion for the style, making you miss out on hours of homework to watch videos of his favorite performers (it’s not like you minded too much, though.)
Han’s, on the other hand, was pure rage. Pure rage which he was letting out from your bed while watching you unpack.
“I just don’t get why they have to take a ballet class too! I have enough trouble getting solos as is.” The boy pouts while resting his head on your orange wood headboard. You’d feel sympathetic if it weren’t for the fact that he was blatantly lying, Han Jisung had gotten nearly every solo since eighth grade. Instead you roll your eyes dramatically and throw him a wadded ball of fabric from your suitcase. Naturally, he screams.
“Shut the fuck up and be helpful.” You scold, earning a childish whine while he sits up to fold the countless leotards. 
“Remind me why I missed you?” He grumbles just as your other, much nicer, friend walks into the cramped room.
“Aww, you missed me Sungie?” Felix asks, voice booming deeply through the space. The two of you instantly drop the clothes in your hands and run to the boy, which you should reprimand Jisung for seeing as he just lifted a finger. But you don’t, because Felix is here with more freckles than the last time you saw him and fresh pink hair that’s definitely going to be dyed natural again within the first week.
“Yes.” The energetic boy answers while worming his way into your hug. Felix giggles softly while petting Han’s dark brown hair before pressing noisy kisses all over his cheeks. He pokes Felix’s ribs as retaliation, to which the boy screeches (directly into your ear, might I add,) and it’s back to the normal, loud chaos “I will kill you!”
“Hey! No murder in my room, if you’re gonna do that go in the hallway!” You snap playfully, pushing Jisung away while moving back into the hug, “Help me unpack? Jisung hasn’t done shit.”
“Not fair!” The boy shouts from your bed, which he’s already plopped back down on.
“I’ll help, besides do you even want him folding your clothes?” You look over your shoulder to see Jisung with his hands tangled up in three different leotards, then back to Felix with terrified eyes. 
‘No,’ you mouth, eliciting another laugh from your friend. He moves over to the bed as well, then sets Jisungs hands free. The three of you talk mindlessly for hours, rambling on about Felix’s summer home and the month that you and Jisung spent traipsing around the boys hometown.
“How do you feel about the merger?” You ask suddenly, cutting Jisung off in the middle of an embarrassing story about a night spent at his house. Felix sighs deeply while tossing you the rolled leotard (your favorite one, light blue with pearls sewn around the collar,) while Jisung throws a wadded up pair of tights at your face.
“It’s fine I guess, just for a year right?” You shrug while the brunette puts on a grimace, hands suddenly very busy with folding, “They really need that rebuild, building’s falling apart. Ours is way better and we have extra room, so why not share?” 
“Tell that to the rat in my mini fridge.” Han grumbles while passing you a pile of black leotards. You laugh and accept, but not before ruffling his stiff hair. 
“Okay, I’ll make sure to do that the next time I’m in your room. Are you done bitching now?” The brunette pokes his tongue out at you jokingly, to which you respond with blowing a raspberry, “Felix is right, besides how terrible is it going to be? We’re all dancers right, and stuff like that is meant to be shared. Who are we to say that they can’t come and learn?” The room turns uncomfortably quiet, Jisung gnawing at his lower lip while Felix picks up his phone.
“Damn it!” The Australian exclaims as his screen lights up. You and Han look at him with furrowed eyebrows before he rolls his eyes and brings the phone up in between your faces, “Administration says I have to fix my hair.” 
Han doubles over with laughter, knocking the mountain of leotards (followed shortly by himself) onto the floor. You follow his lead, and before you know it the three of you are clutching your sides and wiping away happy tears. Felix’s hands ruffle into your hair with a hum, “Maybe I can try Jisungs color, hmm?” You duck away with a snort.
“No! I draw the line at matching hair!” The brunette defends, hands moving to cover the top of his head. Felix lunges at him, fully ready to engage in a tickle fight. Naturally, Jisung screams as if he’s being murdered. It should be annoying, any other time you would find it annoying. But these are your best friends, one of which you haven’t seen in over a month, and for some odd reason your heart feels so full that it could explode. 
“C’mon Lix, I’ll do your hair. What do you think about blonde?” 
And even though tomorrow your school is going to be flooded with new people, and your classes full of students who have probably never done more than basic positions, in the moment it feels okay. Because one of your best friends is screaming ‘NO DON’T TOUCH MY HAIR!’ while the other assures him that ‘It’ll probably most likely be okay! Look, she did mine!’ It’s a perfect chaos that you wouldn’t trade for anything.
*    
There have been plenty of strange coincidences in your life. Like how your first dog was named Felix, and it’s now the name of one of your best friends (who’s hair ended up looking perfectly fine, thank you very much.) Or how your usual waiter at the diner in Jisungs hometown ended up being the cousin of your first kiss. Or how your dorm room is the only one on the hall with painted walls, that just so happen to be your favorite color. Plenty of weird things, but none are as weird as this. Because you’re sitting on the floor of your second class of the day, ‘Intro To Pas De Deux,’ and Hwang Hyunjin has just entered through the side door. Two minutes late.
He’s hard to recognize at first, seeing as there’s more than an added foot of height and black hair that’s creeping down the back of his neck, but the more you look the more you recognize. Pillowy lips, full cheeks, a freckle right in the set of his eye bags. You’re not entirely sold until he laughs, a sweet and breathy sound. The laugh that’s always been three seconds away from turning into a wheeze.
“What’s wrong?” Jisung questions while pulling himself up by your hands, eyes following the line that yours draw to Hyunjin, “Do you know him or something?” 
You’re about to answer when Hyunjin finally turns around, eyes scanning the room before settling on you. He thinks that you look different, too. Taller and slimmer, everything that used to be squishy replaced with soft muscle. But there’s also the bridge of your nose, your hands that are barely gripping Jisungs, and of course your eyes that are staring at him like it hurts. 
“(Y/n?)” He questions, your name falling from his lips as though it’s meant to do so. You nod, mouth falling open dumbly. The boy takes a step forward then freezes.
“Is anyone going to tell me what’s going on? Or at least help me finish stretching?” Jisungs voice reeks of annoyance, you think that if you weren’t in such a state of shock that you’d flick him on the forehead.
“You go to the contemporary school?” Jisung doesn’t take well to being ignored, puffing loudly while scrambling to finish stretching at the barre. Your brain immediately flashes back to Hyunjins second ballet class in third grade, when you were teaching him your favorite warm up stretches. He ended up tangled in between the barre and the wall, which shouldn’t even be possible, but Hyunjin managed. 
“Um... Yea.” Every inch of your body is screaming to stand up and engulf him in a hug, but your legs feel like jello. That, and there’s a small feeling of anger rising in your throat, “L-let me help.” He plops down in front of you before you can say yes. You don’t have to though, Hyunjin still knows that you can’t refuse him. You take his hands in yours, definitely ignoring the pink flush to his cheeks, and pull his torso towards you. 
“It’s been six years.” The words come out choked, full of the pain from your first summer without him. When you’d spend hours playing out in the sun, knocking on your friends front door every morning. He was never there. 
“Sorry.” You want him to show some type of emotion, let you know that he cares. That he’s actually sorry for breaking his promise, “I tried to come and see you in July but you weren’t home.” 
“I was at Jisung’s house, we spend the summers together.” If you were more angry and less hurt you would say ‘now that I don’t spend them with you,’  but he’s still Hyunjin. He’s still Hyunjin, and you don’t think that you could handle the way he would frown at your snide remark. 
Jisung flashes you a look from his place at the barre that reads ‘Who is this guy and why do you look so sad?’ You let Hyunjin pull you into the stretch while responding with a gaze that says ‘I’ll tell you later.’  Hyunjins grip tightens on your hands as you exhale deeply into the stretch, the light blue fabric of your leotard brushing against the dance studio floor.
“(Y/n,) I-” Maybe it’s the way that he licks his lips before talking, or the fact that he looks so much and so little like your best friend at the same time, or possibly even how you can feel the way that he hugged you at your last meeting sitting on your shoulders like a winter coat, but his hands suddenly feel like fire.
“I have to go!” You exclaim, popping up out of the stretch and onto your feet in one swift motion. The boy looks up at you with puppy dog eyes that spark a feeling so intense in you that you have to look away, “I have to go, I-I’ll um... I’ll see you around.” You dash off to the spot in front of Jisung, silently thanking every star in the sky that Hyunjin doesn’t have a chance to follow you. Because just as soon as you get up someone else sits down and begins to excitedly ask the boy questions (he’s short, with a petite frame and an unfamiliar face. Probably another transfer student.)
“Did he say something to you?” Jisung asks as you jump into your favorite warm up routine. There’s not really a right way to answer, because did he say anything just now? No, but six years ago he said that he’d never forget you. He promised as much, and then spent every moment doing nothing but that. You exhale while your feet continue to move instinctively, a slight sense of peace washing over you at the comfort of a routine. 
“We should focus, class is starting soon.” Jisung whines and argues, but you just ignore him. Similarly to how you ignore Hyunjins gaze on you for the rest of the class. 
*
Ignoring Hyunjin is much easier than you anticipated. In class you can distract yourself with Jisung before the teacher comes in, and lunch is fine enough. While he is there, sitting at a table that’s painfully close to yours, he doesn’t try to talk. Or worse, come and snatch up the free seat across from Felix. But no, he does nothing of the sort. Just laughs with his friends and shoots the occasional glance your way (the one composed of sparkly eyes and lips that are a breath away from pouting.)
But then there’s now, standing in the doorway of your stage chemistry class and Hyunjin is all that you can see. Hyunjin, standing in the center of the room and pressing play on the terribly outdated stereo. Hyunjin, running a hand through his raven black hair and inhaling deeply with closed eyes. All you wanted was to get your jacket, but now you have enough Hyunjin for a lifetime.
Loud, bass heavy music swells in the room as he starts to move. At first the movements are jerky, awkward almost. But then the music decrescendos every so softly and he exhales, then proceeds to move as if the dance is being pulled out of him. As if this choreo is the way that he was programmed to move. When the song peaks you swear that you feel tears prickling the back of your eyes, because this is so Hyunjin. The way he’s dancing with every bone in his body, the way his hair is now dripping in sweat and flying all around him, the way his plump lips suck in air. It’s Hyunjin down to the core, and you’ve missed him so much.
When the music dies you clap slowly, causing the boy to shoot up like a frightened cat. He whips around to where you stand, softening like butter when he sees your frame leaned up against the wooden door frame.
“You scared me!” He shrieks, bringing up a hand to clutch his chest. It reminds you of your last Halloween with him, when the two of you got to trick or treat alone. Hyunjin decided that it would be a great idea to go to a fear farm, in which he screeched and clung to you the entire time. It wasn’t even that scary, he’s just a baby.
“Sorry.” You answer, mouth going as dry as the desert, “You, um... You’re really good.” He laughs flatly while moving over to his dance bag to pull out a towel. You watch as he dabs the sweat away, something stupid and needy churning in your stomach. You write it off as hunger.
“Thanks, I still suck at ballet though.” It’s a joke, you know it’s a joke, but something about laughing feels wrong.
“You don’t.” You take a step into the room, wandering over to where your windbreaker is piled on the floor next to the boy, “I’ve seen you in class, and you’re not bad. Just out of practice.” He lets out another flat laugh while dropping the towel, quickly exchanging it with a water bottle.
“Yea, about nine years out of practice. I barely even remember how to do a pirouette.” He’s trying so hard to make you laugh, just like the old days. The growing tension in your shoulders and lump in your throat is preventing that from happening.
“I can teach you.” You offer while shrugging the jacket on. Within seconds he’s babbling out excuses, which you wave off, “Don’t even worry about it, I need to practice anyways.” You bend down to untie your sneakers before moving to the center of the room, Hyunjin following in quick succession, “So you obviously know the proper foot technique, pointed toes only and all of that. And the retire position is just your foot in the notch above your knee.” You demonstrate it in the mirror, and even though he’s far from being a ballerina he’s done enough classes to know that you want him to copy it, “Yea, good. It looks good.”
“Where are my shoulders supposed to be?” He asks shyly, not used to questioning such simple things.
“Back, always back. Now check that your hips aren’t tilted, I-I’ve always been told to imagine that they’re a fruit bowl.” You steal a quick glance at the boy while he’s adjusting, heart fluttering the same way that it did so many years ago, “Okay, now um... Now put your feet into fourth position, just like that yea, then bend your knees and push off from your back leg.” You do the turn, a motion so natural that it might as well be brushing your teeth, “Like that, easy peasy!” The boy scoffs while bringing up his arms the same way that you had yours just seconds ago.
“Yea, easy peasy for you!”  A soft giggle falls from your lips, bouncing off the walls of the empty studio (as well as Hyunjins ears.)
“C’mon!” You tease while moving around to face him, a soft smile playing at your lips, “You see me mess up in class all of the time, just go for it. The worst that could happen is being wrong.” He nods, then exhales shakily. When he does the turn it’s a bit wobbly, but definitely not anything worse than what you’ve seen before.
“Oh my god, (Y/n) that was terrible like genuinely awful-” The words feel harsh, but he’s wearing a bright smile and laughing like there’s not a care in the world. You can’t help but laugh too.
“No, no! It was fine!” You assure through a laugh as he gets back into position. From the corner of your eye you see him mouth ‘liar,’ which earns him a harsh flick between the eyes, “Just bring your hips a little more forward like...” It’s instinctual for your hand to fall onto his hipbone, something you’ve done to Felix hundreds of times. The main difference is that when you adjust Felix he usually tells you to fuck off, then softly knees your stomach. When you do it to Hyunjin he audibly chokes and you feel fire ignite beneath your fingertips, “Like this. Now go into fourth and try again, but keep your hips aligned!” The boy nods before sinking into position and pushing up into a flawless turn.
“I did it!” He exclaims, hands flying up like he’s about to hug you, “You were right, you were right I did it!” Something about his wide, excited eyes makes every wall built around your heart crumble into dust. So you accept the hug, once again allowing yourself to fall victim to the sweetness that is Hwang Hyunjin.
“I was what, I was... Did you say right?!” He rolls his eyes at your teasing, trying desperately to pretend like he didn’t miss it. It’s useless, because the way that Hyunjin’s holding you let’s you know that he’s missed you just as much as you have him, “Alright big guy, let me go. I’ve got studying to do and shoes to break in.” He whines lowly, arms trying to grab you as you snake away. 
“Can we get dinner together or something?” He begs, hand briefly tangling itself in yours. You fight down the blush rising to your cheeks while pulling your hand away and stuffing it into your pocket.
“Not tonight, you have to keep practicing those pirouettes! But don’t worry, you’ll be seeing more of me... Partner.” Hyunjin smiles widely at your words, realization settling in as quickly as they leave your mouth.
“Do you mean...?”
“Yes,” You exhale, mentally preparing for another bone crushing hug, “I’ll be your partner for class.” 
Hyunjins hug is almost nice enough that you forget about how annoying Jisung’s going to be when you tell him.
*
It turns out that the friends Hyunjin made are almost as amazing as the ones that you did. Everyone was a little awkward when the two groups first merged, specifically Jisung who was still butt hurt about you switching partners. But then Felix got to talking with Chan (the person who’s been mothering your friend ever since he started at the contemporary institute. From the way they talk, Hyunjin would’ve both starved and failed if it weren’t for the older boy,) and suddenly everyone was meeting in your room on Fridays for a weekly game of uno. 
“Absolutely not, you’re fucking cheating!” Minho (the other new face from your stage chemistry class,) shouts while pointing a finger across the card pile and into Jisungs face. The boy moves to jokingly bite at it, causing Chan’s eyes to go as wide as the moon.
“No, no, no! No murder, and no biting what the hell!” You snort at your new friends bewildered expression while passing a canned sparkling water to Hyunjin. He accepts with a smile before mouthing ‘they’re insane!’ Felix sees and proceeds to nail him in the face with your favorite throw pillow.
“Says the guy who sleeps in socks-” Hyunjin throws the pillow back harshly, causing Chan to damn near pass out. It’s all that you can do to not roll over with laughter.
“My feet get cold.” He grumbles with a pout that makes both you and Minho coo from your spots beside the boy.
“Okay, okay, Minho just pick up the cards and let’s keep going? I’m about to finish!” The boy grumbles angrily, all ‘stupid card game’ and ‘I don’t wanna pick up twenty cards!’ You lock eyes with Chan from across the card pile, taking brief solace in the presence of someone else with a functioning brain.
“So we all know that (Y/n’)s about to win, and that she’s my best friend and favorite duet partner,” Everyone answers him with an immediate ‘rude,’ which makes a girlish giggle bubble up in your throat, “which is why it makes me so terribly sad to do this.” You watch closely as he dramatically pulls a card from his hand then places it on top of the deck, a fat draw four staring you straight in the eyes. Everyone goes silent while watching your face fall drastically.
“Hwang Hyunjin, I am going to-” The room bursts into chaos before you even finish the sentence. In the end there are about twelve fresh bruises, six entirely hoarse sets of vocal chords, and one demolished dorm room. Just a normal Friday night.
Except for the way that your heart stutters when Hyunjin mouths a simple ‘love you’ over the bustling group. That’s not normal, but you think that you like it.
*
“Hyunjin, if you keep your hands there I’m going to fall.” You say to your duet partner, whose hands are wandering aimlessly up your torso. They’re supposed to be on your hips, serving as an anchor for your body while it dips towards the ground. 
“Sorry, sorry.” The boy mumbles, not entirely meaning it. It’s impossible to be sorry when he can physically feel your heart speed up beneath his hands.
“Try to sound just a little bit less convincing next time, okay?” You shimmy slightly in a futile attempt to move his hands, which only makes him laugh brightly. If it weren’t for your less than ideal position (halfway bent into a split with every ounce of your weight balanced on the tips of your toes,) you would hit him.
“Do you want me to drop you, because I can drop you if it’s what you want-” The teacher snaps her fingers, pulling everyone’s attention out of the various warm up routines and to the front of the room. Hyunjins hands pull away from your torso so quickly that it burns.
“No dropping dance partners on purpose, that’s the first rule of building stage chemistry.” She chastises, eyes brushing briefly over your friend which causes him to turn thirty shades of pink. You giggle quietly to yourself before sticking your tongue out at him, “But of course, you can’t truly start to build a connection until there’s material. So that’s what we’re doing today, I’ve assigned each group with a pas de deux, or ‘dance for two’. Whoever I think shows the most promise within the next week will be given the opportunity to enter in the regional competition.” She says opportunity, but the stern tone of her voice means that whoever she picks will definitely have to do the competition.
Everyone floods to the front of the class before she even finishes, Hyunjin moving to do so as well before you quickly grip his wrist.
“She didn’t say to go yet, and if we want to qualify for that competition we’re going to have to start kissing up now.” You keep your face forward, chin up and shoulders back, but even then you can feel Hyunjins smile, “What?!”
“You want to do the competition?” He sounds hopeful, nearly childlike.
“Of course! That’s like half the reason I go to school here, the competitive atmosphere.” People are starting to settle back into place, your teacher wearing a look of utter annoyance. Hyunjin doesn’t seem to notice, seeing as his mouth keeps moving.
“I’ve only known how to do a pirouette for a month, and I still can’t really get my double. You’d have a better chance with Han, or-” As soon as the teachers back is turned you whip around to your babbling partner, hands planted firmly on his broad shoulders. It takes a second for his eyes to meet yours, but when they do he nearly melts.
“I don’t want to do it with anyone else, I want to do it with you. And just because your double isn’t perfect doesn’t mean that it’s not good so stop stressing.” He looks down for a second, cheeks growing as pink as your shoes. By force of habit you hook a hand beneath the boys chin and force him to look at you, “I mean it.” He swallows harshly, then nods. With a sigh you let go of the boy and return to your previous (assigned) position. Just in time too, seeing as the teacher turns around right as you settle next to the boy.
“You may check your assignments at the end of class, if you haven’t done so already.” You flash a knowing glance to Hyunjin, almost as if to say ‘I told you so.’ He knows better than to argue.
At the end of class you go up to look with Jisung while Hyunjin gathers your things for you, the short brunette babbling excitedly about the previously mentioned regional’s. 
“I thought that you don’t do partner work?” You tease lightly while ducking down to look at the list.
“I don’t, but neither does my partner! So we’ll just be okay at...” He bends next to, head full of brown hair hitting you straight in the eyes, “Romeo and Juliet?” You bite down a laugh while pushing the boy away.
“Don’t try to fight it, you’re such a Romeo. Just like I am such a... Lise!” The boys face contorts with jealousy as he ducks back down, once again knocking your heads together.
“You guys got La Fille mal gardee? And the ribbon dance?!” You giggle back a small yes while pinching the boys frowning cheeks, “No fair! Absolutely no fair, I have to do stupid Romeo and Juliet and you got my favorite ballet, no fair!”
“It’s my favorite too!” You defend, which ends up being pointless because both Hyunjin and Jisung chorus back with ‘not true!’ 
“Your favorite is swan lake.” Hyunjin states while sliding your dance bag onto your shoulder. Maybe it’s the fondness in his action, or the way that he named off your favorite ballet as though it was a fact ingrained into his brain, but your heart swells so large that you swear it could pop like a balloon. 
“Okay,” you exhale, hand moving to the spot where his fingers were ghosting just seconds ago, “one of my favorites.”
*
At your first rehearsal for regionals you and Hyunjin are given the ribbon to use, seeing as it’s literally the ribbon dance. Practicing without it was honestly getting awkward, which is unfortunate seeing as the boy nearly got it taken away within minutes. 
“Look (Y/n,) I’m a present!” He had exclaimed, causing you to whip around to the sight of your partner with a pink silk bow tied around his chin.
“Oh no, Hyunjin!” You whispered through a quiet laugh, moving towards him to untie it, “You are so ridiculous!”
“What? Am I not a gift?” He pouted while trying to pull your hands away, which earned him nothing but a harsh smack on the wrist. You slipped it off his face and behind your back just as the teacher walked in the door to give the ‘your ribbon is not a toy,’ talk.
At the second you describe the plot of La Fille mal Gardee, which proves to be slightly (read: very confusing.)
“Wait wait wait, she doesn’t even like the other guy?!” He asks while shaking his head cutely, black hair bouncing along with the motion. If it gets any longer he’s going to have to start putting it up.
“Nope, not one bit.” His eyebrows furrow as he starts to grumble ‘this is kind of stupid,’ earning a giggle and a push to the shoulder, “No it isn’t! It’s funny, and sweet! I really relate to Lise and her... Character arch I guess.”
“Isn’t she the girl who needed guarding or something like that?” His tilts to the side, teeth catching ever so slightly on his puffy pink lips.
“Yea,” You exhale with a quickening heart rate, “something like that.” There’s silence for a minute, nothing but Hyunjin shaking his head and sighing softly.
“That’s not you. No one needs to guard you.” For some reason your brain flashes back to the third summer alone (that awkward stage where you were too old to make new friends and too young to go see Jisung,) when you spent everyday walking through the woods alone. Sometimes you would just walk until the sun went down and your only company was the stars, but most days you would find a new place to sit down and hum out the motifs of your favorite ballets, “No one.”
For a moment you think that he’s right.
The fourth rehearsal (exactly one week after the first) is when you get to a stage kiss in the choreography, your teacher describing the motions along with a recording that’s projecting on the back wall. It starts with the boy pulling in the girl by the ribbon, then swooping down to meet her lips with a smile. Then she twirls away, leaving your skin hot and crawling. 
“We’re um... A-are we gonna do that?” Hyunjin asks through a whisper, leaning close enough that you can feel his breath. It’s warm and smells like spearmint.
“We’ll know when we get there I guess, now pay attention!” You push his face away from yours and back to the projection, watching as the couple wraps each other up in the silky ribbon.
When you do finally get there an hour later he looks so nervous that he could puke. Your teacher shouts out the next move, ‘kiss and then twirl away,’ which only adds to the painful drumming of your heart.
“It’s okay, (Y/n,) you don’t have to.” His voice is low, hushed. Almost like he doesn’t want anyone else to hear.
“No, no! It’s okay, I’ll just...” You lean forward as much as you can with the ribbon hugging your waist and press a feather light kiss onto the tip of his nose. The teacher coos, maybe even praises the two of you on the developing stage chemistry. You don’t hear it. You don’t hear anything over the erratic beating of your heart, “I’ll just do that, okay?” He swallows dryly, eyes flashing quickly down to your lips then back up to your sweet gaze.
“Y-yea, perfect.” There’s something building up in the space between your bodies, so thick that you could spread it over toast, “You should twirl away, right?” You nod, wanting desperately to stay. To kiss him in an earth shattering way.
A part of you thinks that you shouldn’t. That Hyunjin has the power to ruin every part of you, and that wanting to give that to him after your hearts already been broken is foolish. But you do, you want to. Because loving Hyunjin feels good enough that the pain doesn’t matter.
After the fifth rehearsal the two of you feel as though you’ve torn every muscle in your body. Your teacher decided within the first twelve minutes that the two of you would benefit from some conditioning, which resulted in you and Hyunjin holding side by side planks (as well as other terrible positions) and muttering curses for a solid hour.
“I’m gonna collapse.” Hyunjin whines, plopping down onto the hardwood floor beside his dance bag. Something that’s probably supposed to be a laugh falls out of your mouth before you pull the water bottle from your bag.
“At least you haven’t been wearing pointe shoes all day.” You groan while moving the bottle to your mouth. A mouthful of water slides down your throat right as the boys face twists into one of horror.
“Oh gosh, oh no I’m so sorry!” You try to wave the black haired boy away, which only makes him feel worse, “No, no! I wanna help let me umm... Come back to my room? I can set up a foot bath with...”
“Epsom salts.” You answer after swallowing another swig of water, “But I have all of the stuff in my room, I can take care of it.” Hyunjin whines again while rolling over onto his stomach and pushing himself into a sitting position. There’s a bead of sweat dripping down the bridge of his nose, something that you shouldn’t focus on. It catches on the tip before falling delicately onto his collar bone.
“I wanna take care of it,” It feels like all of the air has been sucked out of the room, “just... Here, wear my jacket into the building so no one can see that you’re uh... A girl.” You try to argue again, but then your cheeks are squished in between his hand and his eyebrows are furrowed just enough for it to be cute, “Let me take care of you.”
And really, how could you say no to that?
*
“Hwang Hyunjin, you are my favorite person in the world.” You sigh, feet dipping into the warm cloudy water. He plops down next to you with a laugh and arms full of snacks.
“Can I get that in writing? You know, just to prove it to Jisung.” Laughter bounces off of his dorm walls, filling the boys brain with childhood memories. Like the time that you two were riding scooters in your driveway and just as the sun started to set you skinned your knee. Hyunjin had thought for a minute that the shaking of your shoulders was sobbing, but quickly discovered by a tilt of your chin and hands wrapped around your sides that you were indeed laughing. Beautiful, clear laughter complete with sunshine dripping from your skin. It was the first time he can remember thinking that someone was beautiful.
“Yes!” You exclaim, effectively pulling the boy from his memory, “But only if you give me food.” He giggles tiredly, a sound so sweet that it might as well be honey, and tosses a bag of pita chips your way.
“You don’t even have to ask.” 
You’re supposed to go back to your dorm at eleven, thirty minutes after arrival. But then Hyunjin starts talking about anything and everything, ranging from how he met Minho to the old building of his school. The way he chuckles sleepily while reminiscing on water logged ceilings is enough to make you melt.  
Somehow your head ends up pulled against his chest, rising and falling with his breaths. There’s an arm tied around your waist like ribbon, lips softly brushing your hairline as he mumbles endlessly about everything, your leg across his lap as though they’re supposed to be. 
“What time’s it?” You slur, clenching onto the fabric of his shirt. It smells like spice and fresh pine and Hyunjin. So much like Hyunjin.
“Midnight.” You think to yourself that it’s time to leave, that if any of the staff found out about this you’d be dead. You also think that Hyunjin smells like fresh pine and that he’s holding you in a way that you’ve never been held.
The sound of his even breathing and the weight of his arms on you lulls you to sleep in a matter of minutes.
*
When you wake up it’s to the obnoxious blaring of Hyunjins alarm. The boy whines lowly before punching it into snooze. It’s enough to make you laugh, then pull your head away from the cradle of his chin.
“C’mon sleepy, it’s time to get up. What do you have for breakfast?” If it weren’t for your hair tickling his cheek or the way your torso writhes beneath his arm he would be annoyed by your chirping voice. After the hundreds of early mornings school has thrown your way you can’t really help but be a morning person. 
“More sleep, that’s what I have.” He grumbles as you crack the curtains open, trying desperately to pull the comforter over his eyes.
“You need food to fuel your body Hyunjin-” Before you can finish lecturing him an arm shoots up from beneath the gray blanket, crashing your body onto his with a sleepy groan.
“M’ just kidding.” He pulls you under the blanket with him, mimicking the first time he spent the night at your house. You two stayed up until the sun was rising, hidden away from the world by the fluffy pink comforter of your childhood bedroom, “Protein bars are in the closet and apples’r on top of the mini fridge.
It’d be so easy to skip classes and stay here all day, not a care in the world besides the sweet boy that you’re currently tangled in. A part of you wants to melt away and give in, but a bigger part knows that doing that is a commitment. Like saying that you’re his to hold and break however he pleases. It’s the scariest thought that you’ve had in months.
“W-we should get going. Yea?” The words sound like you’ve been choking on them. A fact that Hyunjin takes notice of, eyes growing sad and attentive as his arms wiggle away from your waist.
“Yea, yea. Minho will be here in ten minutes, we walk to pas de deux together.” Before you can help it your expression turns panicked, eyebrows shooting up as your jaw drops open, “Sorry! He’s not gonna tell anyone or anything I promise!” Something clenches in your chest at the sight of him sitting up in bed, black hair sticking up every way that it can.
“I know he won’t, it’s just...” You look down at your body, clothed with Hyunjins sweatshirt and a pair of his long socks (turns out that he was onto something with the whole ‘sleeping in socks’ thing,) “I don’t want him to get the wrong idea.” His gaze shoots up to meet yours, so soft and relaxed that you could cry.
“Which would be?” There’s a pounding in your ears that’s quickly recognizable as a heartbeat. 
“That we’re together.” It’s barely above a whisper, but Hyunjin hears you loud and clear. From the light tremble to the breathy finish, he hears you.
“We could be, if that’s what you want.” He puts a hand on your shoulder, an action familiar enough that it’s normal yet tender enough that your cheeks are flushing pink, “Is that what you want?” 
“I-I, um...” Your heart is screaming yes, that you want to be his and only his. That while you aren’t a girl who needs to be guarded, you are a girl who wants to be guarded. Guarded from everything by Hyunjins thin comforter and strong arms.
But then you think about the promise that Hyunjin broke. The promise that he wouldn’t forget you, and then broke less than twenty-four hours later. You think about how badly you’ve wanted to spend the last day of summer with him every year since. Your mouth opens right as a knock sounds against his door, “Can we talk about this later?” Hyunjin nods lightly while getting up to grab two apples off of the top of the mini fridge. 
“I’m so sorry for however he reacts.” The boy groans under his breath, offering you a light green apple along with an apologetic smile. You accept, smiling back before popping out of bed to pull your dance bag over your shoulder.
“It can’t be that bad, Minho’s level headed.” If it weren’t for the fact that Hyunjin still has a question lodged in his throat he would’ve laughed.
You’re the one who finally opens the door, interrupting Minho mid-knock. At first he looks aggravated, ready to launch into a long speech about how ‘timeliness is important’ and ‘you always fucking make us late’ but when his eyes meet you his jaw goes slack. 
“What the f-”
If the sound of Minho screeching wasn’t telling enough, you were very very wrong.
*
The next four days are spent dancing around Hyunjins burning question, constantly talking about anything else or switching the topic when it seems like he might bring it up. At first he barely notices, simply assuming that you need time to mull it over, but then Jisung and Chan sit in on a lunchtime rehearsal.
The dance is coming along perfectly, so much so that the boys don’t even notice your hesitations. Hyunjin sees it though. Sees the way that your hands tremble before planting on his shoulders, the way that your face looks sad after pressing the soft kiss onto his nose. While he hasn’t seen you dance as much as Jisung or Felix probably have, he’s still seen enough to know that you’re never like this. Never uncertain.
“What was that about?” The boy asks after the rehearsal, hands crossed against his chest. You’re going to ignore him, focus on nothing other than getting out of your pointe shoes and off to your next class, but then his dark brown eyes catch on yours, “Seriously!”
“What are you talking about?” You respond, fingers working quickly to undo the ribbons around your ankles. A sigh leaves your mouth as one shoe slips off and into your bag, quickly moving to the other one before Hyunjin can continue the questioning.
Turns out that your friend is terrible at picking up on social cues.
“Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about.” Your head is briefly pulled up from the floor as his voice grows impossibly soft, your heartbeat faltering ever so slightly. There’s a quiet goodbye as Jisung and Chan leave the studio, “Y-you scared me.”
“I’m sorry.” You whisper, throwing the second shoe into your bag while a lump takes form in your throat. If he wasn’t your best friend then he would think that you’re just tired, or hungry, or anything other than deflecting. But he is your best friend, who knows that being tired or hungry only makes you sad. Your best friend who knows that you’re deflecting harder than you ever have before.
“It’s okay, just tell me. Please.” His last word is so hushed that you can barely hear it, but it’s there. Light, and airy, and perfectly there, “Is this about what I asked?” Before you can help you’re nodding, once again giving this boy every part of you that can break.
“Yea, kind of.” It feels like your mouth is full of cotton, leaving you uncomfortably hot along with speechless. A loud sigh rings through the studio as Hyunjin slides down to meet your height, hands burying into his raven black hair. The sight takes you back to the last day of fifth grade; you and him holding each other on your front porch as if the world was ending, your hands tangled into his hair.
“Is it because you don’t want to?” There’s his eyes on yours, your chest heaving, and nothing else in the entire universe. Just (Y/n,) the girl who wants to be guarded, and Hyunjin, (Y/n’)s beloved.
“No.” 
“Then why didn’t you say yes?” Right now feels like when you’re at a competition, in the middle of a variation that’s been giving you hell since you started working on it. It’s seconds before the hardest part, the one that you’re still not sure of. It’s the adrenaline rushing through your veins and the words ‘now or never’ echoing with each timed exhale.
“Because. How do I know that you won’t forget about me when summer comes?” Your words hit him like a punch to the gut, causing his lips to part and then heave for air. 
“I-I never forgot about you.”
“Yes you did!” There are tears prickling the back of your eyelids, which you quickly blink away before continuing, “I waited for you outside your house every day! And then, when you wouldn’t show up, I-I’d spend every day alone. Doing what we used to do together, but by myself! I was all by myself and I missed you so much, Jinnie. So, so much.” He’s going to tell you that you’re wrong. That while all of those things happened, he never ever forgot about you.
But then there’s that old nickname, the one reserved specifically for family and you. He hasn’t heard it in months, and when he finally does it’s rolling out of your mouth like a plea soaked in honey. Something that’s going to stick with him for forever.
“(Y/n,) please-” You’re up and out of the door before he can even finish.
*
It’s a dreary Friday morning, rain trickling down your window and painting your room a gray shade of blue. With a deep inhale you realize that everything is finally smelling like fall, which only solidifies the fact that you never want to get out of bed. Unfortunately you have a class in half an hour that you do kind of need to go to. 
But it’s not too terrible. Maybe if you were getting up to go take a math class, or run a marathon, but you aren’t. You’re getting up to go to ballet class, and you can wear your favorite leotard again (the light blue one, with pearls sewn around the collar,) and the rain outside is heavy enough to be calming but light enough that you can fend it off with an umbrella. The only thing that could make this morning any better is your favorite childhood breakfast, honey nut cheerios with strawberry milk.
Which is, oddly enough, sitting outside of your door when you open it to head off to the dining hall. A gallon sized jug of bright pink milk next to a family size box of your favorite cereal, just sitting in the middle of the hallway with a folded piece of paper resting precariously on top. Something about this has Hyunjin written all over it. You lean down to pick up the note, reading it about a thousand times over before rushing back into your room to wolf down the breakfast that you haven’t had in months.
‘(Y/n,)
I never forgot you.
Come to my room tonight after rehearsal. Please.
Sincerely, Hyunjin.’ 
When you two do the first full run through of the pas de deux that night he holds you extra tight. Maybe because he misses you. Maybe because he thinks that after tonight he’ll never have the chance to do so again.
But when he opens the door to his dorm room you see pink fluffy blankets folded on his bed. On top of them is a basket, filled to the brim with every last one of your favorite things. Strawberries dipped in chocolate like the ones your mother would make on hot summer nights, snickers bars like the ones that you two would share after days spent in your driveway, glass bottled lemonade like you would buy from the stand up the street.
“I may or may not have also bought your favorite movie. Well, if it’s still Barbie And the Twelve Dancing Princesses.” A giggle sounds through the room, bouncing around the walls and then back onto Hyunjins burning cheeks.
“It is, but don’t tell Jisung!” Rain starts to fall again, the soft pitter patter mixing perfectly with the boys soft laugh. His hand grazes briefly against the small of your back as he starts to guide you into the tight room, “I’m serious! Him and Lix will make fun of me!” The pout on your face is enough to melt anyone’s heart, which is why Hyunjin doesn’t even think twice when his knees go weak as jelly.
“My lips are sealed.” He says, walking over the boxy tv (that certainly wasn’t there last week) on his desk and inserting the disc, “Now sit back and enjoy.”
It’s not a hard request to fill, your tired body sinking immediately into the fluffy blankets and mouth watering each time you bite down on a strawberry. Rain continues to patter softly against the window, the sound occasionally being replaced by a loud roll of thunder which makes the boy next to you jump. You had laughed at the action, asking softly if he was scared. It was a rhetorical question, you know fully well that he’s always been scared of thunder.
“No! Yes, shut up.” And if you mind that the boy cuddles softly into your side, one arm wrapped around the curve of your waist while the other holds a chocolate strawberry, you don’t say so. 
The two of you stay tangled up in each other like that until the credits roll, Hyunjins breathy sigh hitting your cheek as he shifts to get up. You watch with heartfelt eyes as he crosses the dimly lit room, his black hair briefly sweeping across his eyes. You want to reach up and push it away, but right as you manage to sit up straight he’s done with it and headed back to the bed. With a short laugh you realize that your noses are touching.
“Hi.” The word comes at as a short exhale, leaving a taste on your tongue that’s sweeter than chocolate strawberries.
“Hey.” Your heart flutters at the sound, an exhale laced together with a smile, as his arms return to their previous spot around your waist. There’s probably nothing in the world brighter than the smile he wears for you. Stage lights, the sun, every last star in the sky rolled into one. None of it even comes close to the way that his pink lips stretch perfectly from cheek to cheek, “Do you finally believe me?” He brings up a hand to caress your cheek gently, as though to rub away tears that haven’t fallen.
“Believe wh-”
“Do you believe that I never forgot you? That I never forgot any of you, not even the little things like your favorite color or what you liked to eat for dinner. Maybe I pulled away, but I think it’s because even then I knew how badly losing you would hurt. I-I knew that I never wanted to lose you, which is just what I did...” He swallows harshly, tongue darting out to wet his lower lip, “But I’ll never do it again. I’ll never lose you, and I’ll never forget you a-and... And I don’t want to remember you anymore, (Y/n.) I’m so done with remembering, let’s just be.” There’s something stuck in your throat, but it doesn’t hurt the way that tears do. No, this is a release gathering inside of you. One that’s waiting for you to finally give in.
“Hyunjin,” His fingers cradle the curve of your jaw, sending goosebumps down every inch of your body, “kiss me.” And that’s all the confirmation he needs to brush his lips over yours.
At first it’s gentle, almost questioning. Like he’s asking one last time ‘Is this okay?’ But then your hands tangle in his black hair, the way that they’ve been aching to since you first saw him, and he knows that you’re okay. More than okay, you’re in love. With every muscle in your body, you’re in love.
Hyunjin’s hand that was previously holding your face drops back down to your waist and pulls you in softly. They then travel down to your thighs, eliciting a soft gasp from your lips before he picks you up and guides you onto the bed. Every movement is so perfect yet raw, feeling like the stuff of ballets. Until your back hits an unopened glass bottle of lemonade, that is. The sudden cold is enough to make you jump.
“What?!” Hyunjin questions, eyes shooting as wide as saucers, “Did I hurt you?!” A laugh sounds through the room while your hand detaches from his hair, opting instead to reach around your body and remove the glass bottle that’s poking you in the least conventional way possible.
“No.” You answer through soft giggles, bringing up the bottle to lightly tap his forehead, “There’s just a lemonade poking me in the ass.”
He flushes bright pink before answering with a tiny ‘oh’ and burying his face into the crook of your neck. If you were less malleable you would’ve teased him even more, but then there are warm kisses on your skin and nothing in your head.
“I love you.” He whispers, head slowly moving until his lips are against your jaw. You’re going to answer, really, but then there are soft lips on your chin and a smile ripping through your body, “I love you.” 
“M-me too.” You stammer dumbly, body going entirely limp as he (finally) presses another kiss onto your lips. The boy pulls away entirely too soon, but it’s okay. There’s something that you need to finish saying, anyways, “I love you too, Jinnie.”
When you fall asleep that night it’s to the sound of pattering rain, with Hyunjins arms guarding you from the world. 
*
The bus back from regionals is quiet, the few sounds that do come about being Chan and Felix whispering softly or Minho giggling at Jisung snoring. You’re about there too, but who can blame you when Hyunjins hands are buried in your hair (which is both stiff and wavy from a combination of hairspray and braided buns.) If you close your eyes and focus really hard you can even feel the rise and fall of his chest where it’s connected with your back. 
“Who’s gonna keep our trophy?” The boy questions, lips moving softly against the shell of your ear. It generates a warm feeling in your gut, one that spreads quickly to your cheeks and ears.
“We’ll trade it off on the weekends. Like divorced soccer parents.” He giggles softly, moving forward to kiss your temple.
“Are you trying to tell me something?” If you were a little bit less tired, or a little bit less in love, then maybe you’d joke back. But you’re wrapped up in him like a ribbon on your waist, foot nudging against a plastic first place trophy while his lips move against you in a way that you could get drunk off of.
“Never.” You answer, hand coming up to wrap around his as if it were a vow, “Never.”
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goonandfightme · 3 years
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Numbers Pt.1
After a particularly horrifying case involving a serial killer starving his victims, Spencer Reid of the BAU relapses into old habits as past trauma resurfaces. The team slowly catches on as Reid falls further into his eating disorder and addictions but will they be able to help him before it's too late?
Pt.1 Concentrate
Trigger Warnings - EDs, drug use and addiction, child abuse.
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Spencer Reid knew he has a problem at age 10. He had a routine, and once Spencer Reid had a routine it became part of him. He would wake up at 6 am, ensure his mother was asleep, pick his outfit for the day. His messenger bag would be packed with textbooks, notes and pens. He would brush his teeth, shower, then get dressed He went through this mental checklist, these motions were fluid, practised and precise. The clock would read 7:30 am, he would leave the house to grab the bus to go to school. High school. He was two years short of graduation, his mother had insisted on it, he was smart, he was special, he could be anything he wanted, he could have anything he wanted.
He would leave his lunch behind.
He would get picked on, laughed at, kicked, bruised all too easily, then go home. If his mother was lucid, he would have a proper meal, if not, whatever he could reach from the cupboards. He was malnourished, the corner of his lips cracked from b-vitamin deficiency, the rims of his eyes white from anaemia, his hair messy and breaking. People only knew him as his shadow of himself, no concerns were raised.
He would complete his homework, lay on his bed, his heart would palpitate, his world would spin. No one noticed, his grades hadn’t slipped, he never participated in sports. No one noticed.
His alarm sounded; it was 6 am. He started again; his lungs screamed, his heart pounded, and his headache came back, he always had a headache, but Spencer Reid had a routine, and he would stick to it. He went to check on his mother.
--Present Day--
It was six-thirty and Reid was getting ready for his day at work, removing his pyjamas while he waited for the shower to heat. The top came over his head easily, it was baggy, it was more than a couple of months old, it didn’t fit him anymore. He looked forward towards the full body mirror, tossing the clothes into the hamper, his face was thin, as it always had been, even when he was a healthy weight he’d always struggled with his figure. Brushing his hair out of his face he looked closer running his fingers over his features, saw how his eyes were more hallow, he pulled the lower lid down the reveal the ghostly white colour it had become, his cheekbones slightly more pronounced and painful to press against, his jaw slightly sharper in contrast to how he felt. His hand dipped and traced over his ribs, he could count them all, name them if he wanted, then his hand lowered to his wrist. His thumb and middle finger enclosing the joint, measuring how far he could raise it, whether it would come past his elbow, would it fit past his bicep. It stopped just after his elbow and he squeezed as if trying to rip his flesh after, from the bone, the white marks lingered across the already pale limb.
“White marks that last after applying pressure to the skin suggest poor blood circulation, common among those with anorexia nervosa.” There was no one there to hear him but when he was alone, he liked to talk aloud it helped him think through things slower, it helped keep him calm. “It also causes the exterminates to become cold and discoloured,” he looked down towards his feet. He removed his trousers, the shower warm and producing a numbing white noise as Reid continued his routine. Checking how each bone moved under his skin, thin, grey and translucent. He had so much more to lose.
“Grey skin indicates poor blood oxygenation, which can be caused by anaemia, a low level of iron within the blood that prevents red blood cells from delivering oxygen effectively. A common symptom of malnutrition.” He breathed out slowly to calm himself as he turned on his heel to enter the shower, it was much warmer than his apartment, the floor cold and unwelcoming, he was always cold anyway. He made quick work of scrubbing down his body, no longer wanting to look at it, feel it. He spent longer on his hair, it no longer sat right, it would always fly away as it became more brittle, he wasn’t the biggest fan of the longer-haired look but it suited him, made his face slimmer, so he kept it.
Reid turned the tap off and jumped out as quickly as his legs would let him, he swiped his towel off of the rack and placed it on his face, holding the weight in his hands as his head stopped swirling, then used it to finish drying himself off. He walked back into his bedroom where his clothes laid neatly. He placed on his underwear socks and trousers, a cream shirt and striped tie, a thick soft orange jumper to go with it, then blazer, then belt, he tightened and placed it through the newest punched hole. It was a nice belt he didn’t want to get rid of it. Checking that the apartment was in order and that everything had been done, everything he needed was in his bag, he picked up his keys from the dish and left after briefly sorting his hair in the hallway mirror.
It was another day at the BAU for Reid. Walking over to the staff space he started the kettle and placed his bag down, he retrieved his favourite mug and placed three teaspoons of coffee in. Once the water was boiled he filled his mug and let the thick scent waft through the air, he grabbed the sugar and poured, originally he would have counted the spoons of sugar but decided that cutting out the middle man would save time, he was slightly late as it was. “Want some coffee with that sugar?”
“Had a long night, need something to keep me functioning” Reid retorted as he turned to face Morgan who stood behind him placing his lunch in the fridge. “Nice one pretty boy, what was she like?” Morgan smiled. “Not that kind of long night,” he picked up his bag and walked towards his desk before Morgan had a chance to reply. He slouched down into his seat while taking another sip of his coffee and reached down to grab a file from the bottom of his desk drawer and after rummaging for a while he found it. A wave of nausea hit and Reid lent forward over the desk to stop his stomach from protesting, his body wasn’t used to this level of starvation. He’d lowered his intake from 700 to 500 yesterday, it was taking time to adjust.
The BAU hadn’t had a case for over two days so the team was catching up on all paperwork that needed doing, anything that had been shoved in draws to be forgotten was to be finished and filed.
He opened the file and glanced over the first page, thumbing over the papers to spread them out. Emily Moore, aged 25, died of malnutrition after a serial killer had starved her to death. Reid placed his right hand beneath his chin and ran his thumb over his mouth as he traced a finger over the outline of her body and closed his eyes. That was four months, two days and three hours ago that case started, and it was four months, two days and three hours since Reid had relapsed. He could see them still so vividly, all of them hung up like puppets, so skinny and frail. He still couldn’t bring himself to finish the file.
“Reid?” Hotchner asked, Spencer, opened his eyes to see the team filling into the meeting room as Hotch stared at him from across the room. Reid quickly snapped the file shut and followed behind everyone else, Hotchner joining the line afterwards. Spencer enclosed his hand around his wrist to help his heart stop beating as fast. It calmed him down, he didn’t even realise he had done it. Hotch was absorbed in his paperwork.
Reid sat down next to Morgan in his unassigned assigned seat as Gideon began the brief and Reid for one of the first times since he had met Gideon, didn’t listen to him.
I shouldn’t have had that much sugar, how much did I have, right, the coffee cup was about 5cm in diameter so that means the area of the cup was five multiplied by pi, then to find the volume of sugar the cup raised about 1cm.
“The victim was found face down lying in a pool of her own blood.” Gideon turned to the board displaying pictures of the woman.
The volume of sugar would be 15.7cm squared, which equates to about 25 grams of sugar which is 80 calories.
“Nothing was left at the crime scene, but her hands were bound with what appears to have been some sort of rope shown by the burn marks.”
“Could have suggested the killer was physically weak, needed to restrain her to get his way” Elle interjected. “Judging that the unsub took the rope it probably means he also brought it, premediated, definitely an organised killer,” Morgan added.
Why didn’t I just measure it out it would have made this so much easier, I’ll round it up to 100 just in case.
“Local police teams have already sectioned off the scene,” Hotch added, “alright but why call us, nothing about this case seems extraordinary, seems like a run of the mill homicidal rapist,” Elle questioned while looking to Gideon. “Well,” Gideon started.
If I can get home by 8 pm I can burn off that coffee, wait no if I run home then I can leave later but still burn it so if I have the 500, well now I can have 420 no 400, then I can-
“Right let’s go, the jet leaves in half an hour.”
With that the team all stood up abruptly, creating a whirlwind around Reid that made him snap out of his thoughts, his head and eyes darted around the room trying to figure out what was happening. He jumped out of his seat to follow everyone out but was stopped at the door.
“You alright Reid?”
Spencer spun back round to face Gideon who was looking at him, seeming to expect an answer. “Sorry, what was that?” Gideon's face became stern as his eyebrow slightly lifted along with his chin, he was not just looking at him, he was analysing. “I just wanted to know if you were alright?”
“Me? Yeah, I’m fine” Reid frantically looked across the room trying not to meet the other man’s gaze, “I’m just going to go grab my stuff” he stated while starting to walk backwards out of the room, pointing behind him with his thumb. “Uh yeah, see you on the plane,” he turned almost bumping into JJ “sorry JJ I uh didn’t see you sorry,” and with that, he took off to go grab his bag.
JJ turned to Gideon with a questioning look. “Keep an eye on him” was all he said before also going to grab his bag. Gideon wasn’t a man to say anything unless he was sure unless it was important, but he was worried. His intuition was screaming at him that something was wrong, but Reid would be at least three steps ahead if he didn’t want anyone to know. Damn profilers.
They had all swarmed into the jet and had taken their seats. Reid lay in the long seat reading a book, but not at his normally inhuman speed, it was slower, only just noticeably. Hotch sat next to Gideon reading all the information they had on the case thus far again, making sure nothing was missed. Gideon watched. They were sat at the other end of the plane with Reid’s back to them, the other team members preoccupied with their activities.
“Something’s wrong with Reid.”
“Excuse me?”
“Look at him.”
Hotch looked up from his papers and looked towards Reid, Gideons line of sight hadn’t wavered since he sat down. Hotch looked back from Reid to the man next to him. “What makes you say that?”
“He’s anxious, jumpy, overreactive,” Gideon still looked over to the boy and Hotch joined back, “I asked him this morning after the brief, he didn’t turn his back to me once until he was out of the room.”
“He was being defensive, wouldn’t turn his back on the perceived threat,” Hotchner added, “he knew the answer but couldn’t tell you, he looks at you as a father figure you know, he doesn't want to disappoint you”
Gideon paused, “he probably does, he doesn’t know much about his father,” he said shaking his head, they sat and observed in silence.
“He’s not turning pages as quickly as he normally does,”
“He’s not turning pages as quickly as he normally does,” Gideon repeated, “how’s his paperwork?” he finely looked away from the younger man. “Still exemplary, maybe a little less than normal but handed in on time, it hasn’t suffered any more than anyone else’s while we’ve been busy.”
Gideon nodded “somethings eating away at him, I just don’t know what.” There was a pause.
"There was one file I never got back."
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Chapter 13 | Angels, Demons
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CW: talk of ab*se (from father), death of family members, talk of self-harm (c*tting), crying, cursing, talk of ED (anorexia), r*pe, just very emotional things :)
Reader's POV:
Three weeks.
It had been three glorious weeks of Spencer and I dating.
It was true magic; it was the happiest I've felt.. Ever.
Every moment with him made up for the past darkness that seemed to consume me throughout the years. He danced with my angels and quieted my demons.
Throughout the weeks, the BAU had zero cases; only paperwork, so Spencer and I would have little dates when we got home. We watched old russian movies while cuddled up on the couch together, went to old libraries that were filled row-by-row with different books and literature pieces. We kissed behind bookcases and shelves, giggling at our almost teen-like romance. We also snuck secret kisses during work, not wanting to tell the team quite yet.
It was perfect.
Although our secret adventures were fun behind closed doors, we decided to tell the team that we were dating; but we didn't want to outright say it-no- rather we would walk hand-in-hand into the BAU bullpen letting people find out for themselves.
And that is exactly what we did this morning.
"Are you sure you want to tell people? We can wait if you aren't ready.." Spencer asked hesitantly, cupping my cheeks gently with his hands in the elevator ride up to the bullpen.
"I am if you are." I replied, kissing him gently, my lips tingling from his soft touch.
"Oh, I'm definitely ready. I want everyone to see how perfect my girlfriend is." he said, smiling softly, a small blush forming over his face.
I giggled softly, kissing him again.
Spencer asked me to be his girlfriend a few nights ago.. Although it was accidental as we were discussing if we wanted to make our relationship official or not.
Call it kid-ish, but we wanted to move a little slower, especially after everything that has happened.
Spencer and I were reading one night, my head on his chest as I listened to the soft sounds of his voice, lulling me into complete relaxation. As I was just about to fall into my slumber, Spencer asked a very important question.
(flashback)
"Angel?" he asked, looking down at me and tucking some hair behind my ears.
I lifted my head up from his chest to look at him, "Mhm?" I hummed, lifting my hand up to his cheek, stroking the soft skin with stubble gently.
"W-would you want to tell the team about us soon? Like make the relationship, uh, official?" he asked nervously, averting his eyes away from mine as if I was going to lash out on him for asking such a question.
A smile inched over my lips, heat creeping up my neck, "Spence, I would love to.. When would you like to do it?" I asked, and he lifted his head up, his face a light pink.
"Really? Okay, i-is Monday okay to do it? It's okay if not, I just really am excited to show the team my girlfriend."
His eyes widened at his words, his face going from a light pink to a red.
My heart fluttered, butterflies swarming my body.
"Girlfriend?" I whispered, an even bigger smile taking over my face.
"I-uh, I-if that's what you- y'know- want.. We can wait- I didn't mean-"
His blabbering was cut short by my lips on his in a sweet, loving kiss.
"Of course I want that, Spencer. I would love to be your girlfriend." I said, pulling away slightly from his lips.
A big smile overtook his God-like features, and he flipped me around on the bed as I squealed excitedly, giggling into the many kisses he laid upon my mouth and neck.
After a moment, we both calmed down, "Monday is perfect, Spence." I whispered, and he kissed me more passionately now, his lips tasting of sugar and candy- something that we had earlier on that night.
(end flashback)
So yes, I was now Doctor Spencer Reid's girlfriend, and I could not be more happy about it.
Our kissing was cut short as the elevators opened, and we each took a deep breath holding onto one another's hands.
As we pushed our way through the BAU doors, the team looked up at us.
They looked at our inter-woven hands, then to our faces that no doubt withheld blushes.
"HA! I knew it! Everyone, you owe me fifty bucks!" JJ's voice boomed through the bullpen, and the rest of the team laughed loudly, groaning.
"What do you mean?" Spencer asked, chuckling nervously.
"We each placed a bet on how long it would be for you and pretty girl over there to admit you have feelings for each other... and JJ won. I was off by one week." Derek explained, laughing.
"You put a bet on us?" Spencer squeaked, and I giggled at his change in octaves.
"Reid, we had to!" Emily said, handing JJ over her money. "We all knew you both loved one another, but we all betted on when you two would finally get together in a relationship!"
"Did I hear the word 'relationship'?" Penelope said as she waltzed into the room, a big smile plastered across her face. She looked at us and began squealing uncontrollably, bouncing up and down and clapping her hands together as a child would if their mother said that they were allowed ice cream after dinner. "Oh. Em. GEE!!" She hopped over to us, pulling us in to her earth-shattering hugs. "Oh-oh! I knew it! I knew it, I was three weeks off!! DANG! OH but I am so so happy for you two! Oh, and you guys can make little genius babies and oh- I can plan the wedding!-"
"Oh- kay! I think that we should allow Y/n and Spencer to take it slower than that, babygirl." Derek laughed, pulling Garcia away from us as Spence and I both giggled.
"I was four days off!" Rossi exclaimed, handing JJ her money, shaking his head. "But I'm very happy for you, i miei uccellini amorosi!"
"Rossi, no one understands your italian." Emily said, handing JJ her cash.
"It means 'my little love-birds.'" Spencer stated, blushing.
"Well of course boy-genius does." murmured Emily, laughing softly.
"Hey, you guys should probably go tell Hotch!" JJ said, counting her money.
"Yeah, that's probably a good idea," I said, turning to Spencer. "Do you want to tell him today?"
Spencer moved his hand from my grasp putting it on my cheek, "Only if you want to." he said quietly.
"I'm ready." I said, and Spencer nodded, then pulled me in for a quick kiss as we walked to Hotch's office.
"Ew! No PDA!" Derek laughed and Penelope hit him on the shoulder with a loving smile returning back to her face as she looked at Spence and I.
Spencer and I each rolled our eyes and knocked on Hotch's door.
"Come in."
Nerves tingled throughout my body, and Spencer squeezed my hand in reassurance. I smiled up at him, and opened the door to Hotch's office.
"Uhm, Hotch.. Can we talk to you for a second?" I asked nervously.
"Of course." He said, looking up from his paperwork.
Spencer and I each sat down in front of him, and Spencer cleared his throat.
"Hotch, we wanted to tell you that-"
"You both are in a relationship with one another?" Hotch interrupted, a small smile etched on his solemn face.
"How did you-?" I asked, confused.
"I am the lead profiler here.. And it was just obvious." he chuckled, and Spencer and I both laughed out of relief. "I just need you to know that this can not affect your work on the team."
Spencer and I nodded, "Yes sir, it won't." I assured as Spencer hummed in agreement.
"Good. Here, I am obligated to have you sign this." Hotch said, pulling out a piece of paper that was basically the 'Terms and Conditions' of having a relationship with this sort of job.
Spencer and I both signed the paper and Hotch did a quick once-over.
"Okay, well I am very happy for you both, but now I have fifty dollars to give to JJ." he said, smiling softly.
"You were in on the bet too?" I asked, laughing softly.
"Sure was.. I was two days off." he stated, putting the signed papers on the right side of his desk. "Now, both of you get out there; we have paperwork again today."
Spencer and I both nodded, and walked out of Hotch's door, sighing a big sigh of relief.
"Thank God that went way better than I expected." I said, turning to Spencer.
Spencer hummed in agreement, pulling me in for another kiss, and I giggled against his lips. We parted ways, each getting started on our paperwork sitting on our desks.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Throughout the day, Spence and I would share stolen glances, kisses between breaks, all the romantic mushy stuff.
The day felt as though it went on forever, so I was very happy when leaving time came.
"Hey, I was wondering if you're free tonight? I-I have a date planned for us." Spencer stuttered, picking up his satchel as I collected my things.
"Yeah! I have nothing going on. Whatcha got planned?" I asked, a soft smile etched on my face, butterflies fluttering around in my belly.
"You'll just have to see." he replied cheekily.
"Are we breaking into another museum?"
"Nope." he laughed pulling my hand as we walked to the elevators waving to everybody in the bullpen.
"Have fun love-birds, but not too much fun!" Derek yelled after us, and I rolled my eyes laughing.
The elevator doors closed, leaving Spencer and I alone. There was brief silence, until Spencer pushed me up against the railing, kissing me passionately. I groaned in his mouth softly, our tongues massaging against one another, fighting for dominance.
As quickly as the kiss begun, it ended, the elevator dinging and Spencer unlatching himself from me, grabbing my hand and walking out of the building with me, my heart beating out of my chest; butterflies now attacking my stomach and chest, as he rose up my neck to my face, my breathing erratic.
"What was that for?" I asked after a few moments, laughing breathily.
Spencer turned to me, cupping face gently with his hands.
"I don't know, I just really wanted to kiss you." he said, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "C'mon we gotta get ready for the date."
Spencer opened the car door for me, and I got in, leaving a quick kiss on his lips, a blush now rising on his cheeks, his persona completely different than it was in the elevator.
Spencer turned on the car's ignition, and drove us back to my apartment, his hand on my thigh.
Wow.
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9:45 PM at Y/n's Apartment:
"Hey love, you ready?" Spencer called from the living room as I finished up my makeup.
"Yeah, just give me one sec!" I called back, checking my outfit in the mirror.
I decided on wearing something cute and comfortable; I wore baggy bootleg jeans, a rose mesh top with a little bow in the middle where it dipped down a bit to expose some cleavage, a green baggy cardigan that was knitted, and some white slightly chunky- sneakers. The necklace Spencer had given me a while back resting on my collarbones, my hair down from being clipped up all day.
I looked good.
I walked out to the living room, Spencer in a green sweater and tan slacks, a golden chain-necklace making his golden eyes seem even more golden.
"W-wow." he stuttered, looking at me with widened eyes. "You look- wow- you look beautiful."
"Thanks, Spence. You look amazing." I giggled walking over to him to kiss his soft lips. He pulled back, examining my face with adoration, smiling softly.
"I'm so lucky." he whispered, kissing my nose, then grabbing my hand. My heart fluttered at his admittance. I never have felt more loved. I smile up at him, and he bends down to kiss my lips one more time before we exit my apartment, getting into the elevator.
He hits the 'Rooftop' button and I look at him confusedly. We walk off the elevator, and I gasp softly, looking at the date Spencer planned.
An array of pillows and blankets lie on the floor, candles in candle-holders, lighting up the area along with fairy lights. There's soft classical music coming from a small speaker, and a book of poems by Edgar Allen Poe.
"Spence, you did this all for us?" I ask, an overwhelming amount of emotion coursing through my veins.
"I did it all for you." he says softly, cupping my cheek with his hand, brushing his thumb over my cheekbone. Tears prick my eyes, and a few fall down my cheek, but he brushes them away with his thumbs, kissing me gently.
"I don't deserve all of this." I say, my voice crackling a bit.
"You deserve everything good in the world, Y/n." he whispers, kissing my lips again. "I lov- I-I mean, love spending time with you, Y/n. You mean the world to me."
"You mean the world to me too, Spence." I whisper back, running my hands through his hair.
_____________________________________________________
The rest of the date was filled with stargazing, Spencer reading 'Annabelle Lee' to me from the Edgar Allen Poe book; letting me cuddle up next to him as we exchanged small kisses.
Each kiss that he placed upon my lips made me fall in deeper love with him.. If that was even possible. I couldn't stop thinking about how much he meant to me, how much he deserves someone better than me.. Someone that was less broken. But I heard what he was going to say.. I knew that he was going to say that he loved me, I just knew it. I knew it because that was exactly what I was thinking the night at the museum- that's what I have been thinking the whole time since I've known him.
Still, I would wait until we were both ready to say those words.. I knew I was.. But I didn't know how he was with it quite yet.
All I knew was that I trusted him more than I had ever trusted anyone before. I knew that he had seen me in my darkest hours, therefore I was ready to talk to him more about the hardships I had faced throughout my life.
We had been in a content-full silence for a few moments, so I decided to spill my guts to him.. About everything.
So I did.
"Spence?"
"Yeah, angel?" he asked softly, pulling away from our kiss.
"I want to talk to you about my father- and my mother." I said, anxiety building in my gut.
I had never told anyone about my mother or father really- the only person knowing about the general details being Hotch.
"You don't have to if you don't want to." he said, sitting up from his lying down-position to look at me more clearly. "But if you would like to, I am here to listen, okay?"
I nodded, a grateful soft smile on my lips.
"My father.." I took a deep breath, and Spencer held my hand gently. "My father was an abuser. He was a raging alcoholic and hit me constantly. I would come home from school hoping he wasn't drunk- but he always was. He'd hit me, beating me to the ground and then smash his beer bottle on my head. I'm not exactly sure when the first time he hit me was, but all I know was that I was terrified of him. Around the age of six, he began sneaking into my room at night and-," I choked on a sob, the memories still haunting my brain to this day.
"Take your time." Spencer said, his voice crackling softly.
I nodded and continued on; "he-he would touch me and by the time I was eight years old, I had been raped three times by him. He said that if I ever told anyone, he'd kill me, so I never did. I couldn't go to my mother because she was very sick. I started to cut myself to relieve the continous pain that was my every day life... My mother was the only thing that kept me from taking my own life. I honestly had no idea how someone as kind and caring as my mother could be with someone so monstrous as my father. She was too sick to do anything about it, so I just took whatever my father gave me.. Unable to do anything else. After my mother died and my father was made to look after me, he began hitting me even more, and I had been raped eleven times by the time I was seventeen. One day, I decided I had had enough and left in the middle of the night.. It took a lot of courage, but at that point, I decided that if he caught me and just killed me, it'd be better than staying alive another day. Luckily, he had been drinking a lot the day before, so I was able to sneak out. I took his money, and bought myself an apartment three hours from where we lived. I was only eighteen at the time and so I immediately was stressed out with how I was going to pay my bills and taxes. So I got six part-time jobs. I did online school. I finished the courses extremely quick, graduating at twenty and heading to the BAU by the time I was twenty-two. My eating disorder started when I was a teen. I began just eating water and celery every day until I just gave up on eating entirely, resorting to just drinking water and eating half a stick of sugar-free gum. I restricted my eating not only because I hated how I looked, but also because I felt that my ED and cutting were the only two things that I could control in my life. Recently, the depression hit me harder than ever, and I stopped eating again... I-I'm sorry I know that this date wasn't about this but I really wanted to tell you about everything-"
Spencer pulled me into a soft kiss, and I realize then, that he had been crying with me, our salty tears causing the kiss to be even sweeter.
"Thank you for sharing that with me, but don't apologize. Talk to me whenever you need to, okay angel?" he whispered softly, placing his forehead on mine.
I nodded.
"You are so strong, and what that man did to you is not your fault. You are the most amazing person that I have ever met in the whole world. You make me stronger every day." he sniffled.
It was silent for a few seconds.
Fuck it.
"Spencer?"
"Mhm?" he hummed.
I took a deep breath.
"I-I love you."
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AN: AYO! y/n says she loves spencer :0 !!
NEXT CHAPTER HAS SMUT (maybe ?? 😏)
i may post it this weekend bc i hate cliffhangers lmao
I LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH!
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boldlyvoid · 3 years
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I agree with you so much, Reid deserved a love that lasted a eternity, not a few episodes or a conversation, Maxine was my least favorite relationship he ever had, I wanted him to have an easy relationship of course but damn she was...herself, stuff she said and how they made her out to be, she didn't suit him at all, I do love Reid with Maeve but with a different storyline, like I may not like any of his ships but they had so much potential, I only disliked it because how it ended, she's amazin
It was really rushed. They couldn’t find a good way to shove him into a relationship with JJ so they said huh let’s put a women who lowkey hates kids in a park with her autistic nephew and have Spencer interact with him just for her to be really mean and cold and distant and have Spencer fall in love with her!!!! ????????????????? I wasn’t going to watch season 15 but then I had to just to understand the references and add stuff to Amoreena that made sense in canon and I didn’t like Max at all, as someone who was going to be a special Ed teacher, for a long time that was my career goal, and you don’t get into that because it’s convenient or easy, you’re supposed to do it because you love those kids and you want to bless them with a fun and happy childhood where they’re loved and cared for. She just rubbed me the wrong way and I don’t know how he found her or JJ interesting?
At least with Maeve she complimented his work and she was another doctor/researcher and they built a friendship and bond behind the scenes and he felt truly loved by her unlike with JJ and Max who he was constantly trying to prove himself to them and it was like an effort ™️ to get them to like him.
He deserved a love that was easy and lasting. He deserved someone to look at his crooked tie and his dorky vests and that one hair that never wants to stay in pace and think he’s adorable. He deserves someone who will listen to his stories and go “oh shit really? Why’s that?” And let’s him just go off and loves to listen. He deserves someone to know all his flaws and weaknesses and the worst shit he’s ever done and say “okay and?” And love him anyway.
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