#true night | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dr-spencer-reids-queen · 1 year

Text

True Night: Part One

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.6k

Warnings: smut, canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill

Author’s Note: I am so sorry I haven’t posted. I was sick with the flu and completely forgot about it. I will be posted both episodes now!

I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there is any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them. If you’ve seen the show, then it’s the same level of angst unless otherwise stated

"Superman is, after all, an alien life form. He's simply the acceptable face of invading realities." - Clive Barker

It's nice to take a break from painting and just to relax. Penelope is safe, everything in your life is going just right, and you and Spencer could not be happier. The best thing about living with the person you love the most, romantically, is having the entire place to yourselves. You're not expecting company, so the best thing you two could think of doing is sharing a bath together.

The candlelight is the only thing that is lighting up the room, soft music is playing through the speaker that is hooked up to your phone, there is rose petals inside the bath and on the floor right outside it, bubbles from a soap that smells amazing, and champagne that you had Spencer go pick up when he went on a walk earlier.

It's so romantic that you don't ever want to leave this little bubble that you've created. He's sitting right behind you, and you have your head resting against his chest. He has his glass of champagne in his left hand, and he's running his right hand up and down your arm, causing goosebumps to form in the warm water.

"Tell me something," you say quietly.

"What is it?" he asks and kisses your shoulder.

"Tell me where you see yourself in five years from now."

"Well," he clears his throat and sets his glass down on the edge of the bathtub closest to the wall so it doesn't fall on the ground, "I still see myself working at the BAU. I can't imagine my life without it, at least, not now. I'm sure that could change in a few years. I see myself with you, but not as boyfriend and girlfriend. Maybe as something more."

You smile and bite your lower lip from happiness.

"I like that," you whisper.

"What about you?"

"Well, for starters, I see myself out of this apartment and maybe into a house? We could have more room to do things. We could get a dog or a pet to keep ourselves company, and a pet to keep our pet company for when we leave. We'd have a room for Hannah if she wants to visit us. That house could be the start of our family. Nothing needs to happen now, but I see myself being with you for the rest of my life."

You slowly turn in his arms so you're facing him, not caring that some of the water spilled over the edge. He wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you in, slotting you right over his growing erection. You wrap your arms around his neck and play with the baby hairs at the base of his hairline.

"I love you so much," you whisper. "So much so that it makes my heart hurt sometimes."

"That's a lot of love," he jokes.

You grin and lean in, pressing your lips to his. This is such a wholesome and pure moment that there is no need for speed. You like to take it slow every once in a while, and that's exactly what he was thinking as well.

Like it's second nature to you, you lift your hips, and he reaches in between you two to grasp his cock. He pumps it twice before resting it against your needy hole. Without thinking, you sink down onto him one inch at a time. His grip on your waist tightens to prevent himself from going to town on you.

You move your hips back and forth, finding a good rhythm that works well with the sloshing of the water. This is something you'll never get used to. It feels like you were made for him and only him. There's something about him that calls to you--something raw and sensual that you've never had with your previous lovers.

Spencer needs a bit more than what you're giving him, so he plants his feet on the bottom of the tub where the walls meets the ground, and he uses that stability to fuck into you. You gasp into the kiss and pull away only to lay your head on his shoulder. He doesn't go at a fast pace, but he does fuck you harder than he should for inside a bath.

You bite his shoulder and suck his skin, leaving behind an angry red mark.

"Spencer, fuck," you moan into his ear.

"You feel so good," he says with a strained voice. "So tight."

You reach down and slide your hand to your clit which is eager for some attention. You rub yourself in fast, hard circles to help build yourself up to the sweet release you know will be coming. Spencer sees you pleasuring yourself, and he gets a surge of confidence that causes him to flick your hand away so he can do what you were doing.

"Shit!" you gasp and fall forward onto him even more. "Fuck, I'm close."

"Yeah? You want to come for me?"

He must not know how sexy he sounds right now and how turned on you are by him.

"Yeah, please," you whimper.

"Come for me, baby."

You clench as hard as you can around him before releasing all over him, and he shoots his load into you after you release him from your flesh prison. Every time you go there with Spencer, it's always just as good as the first time you've ever done it.

"I love you so much," you say and kiss him.

"I love you more."

"Not possible," you grin against his lips.

The bath water is cold now, which means it's time to get out. You're out of the bath first, and you wrap your fluffy towel around your body while Spencer drains the water. He gets out and dries himself with his towel, and you let your hair down from the clip you placed in there to keep it out of the water.

Your phone makes a noise, interrupting the music. You grab it and check the notification, seeing a message from Hotch.

"We're needed in the office. It's like they can't function without us."

"Apparently," he chuckles.

You two get ready before heading to work, making it in record time. You get there just as Penelope arrives, and instead of heading to the briefing room like Hotch wants, you decide to help her out.

"Here, let me," you grin and open the door to her office.

"I can open my own door."

"Just be lucky I'm not Derek. It's good to be back, huh?"

"What the hell? What happened here?" she gasps.

"It's just a small mess. I can clean it for you. The guy who went through your system--"

"Kevin Lynch," she cuts you off. "He made more than a little bit of a mess."

"Don't worry about it, Penelope. It's okay."

She takes a seat and groans loudly, shifting in her chair.

"He changed everything," she sighs.

"Changed everything? What are you talking about?"

"He adjusted the--the... forget it. It'll be... Go. You need to get to LA."

"Are you sure? I could stick around. They can handle one case without me."

"You and I both know they can't. Honey, I know you love me, but the prospect of you whirling around here trying to fix this is actually more frightening than getting shot."

"Ouch," you giggle.

"I am completely fine. Look. Full range of motion. No pain."

Penelope raises her arms and moves in different ways to show you she is good to go.

"Okay, fine. You call me if you need anything."

"I promise. Are you doing okay? You're... glowing."

"Romantic bath sex will do that to you," you wink at her and leave her office.

This is the kind of case you need to get on right away. A ruthless killer is roaming the streets of Los Angeles, and it's up to your team to stop this person. Hotch didn't give much away in the briefing since he wanted to get to Los Angeles as soon as possible. There have been seven victims over the past two weeks, and LAPD just now decided to call your team in for help.

There isn't a car big enough to hold every single person, so you have to split your team into two. You're with Derek and Spencer while the rest of the team is in the other car. You arrive on site a lot faster than the rest of your team. You get out and look to your right where a limousine passes by you. There is a person sticking their head out to see the crime scene in the alley before you, but it disappears as soon as it comes.

"You should have listened to me," Spencer says for the fifth time since you got in the car.

"It wouldn't have saved that much time, Reid. Let it go," Derek groans.

"The interchange between the 405 and the 101 freeways is consistently rated the worst interchange in the entire world."

"Why do you know that?"

"It's a government report."

"So?"

"So, you work for the government. What, you don't read the reports?"

"On traffic patterns in a city twenty-five hundred miles from where I live?"

"Two thousand nine hundred and ninety-five miles."

"Don't make me smack you in front of all these people," Derek says seriously.

You laugh at this but quickly shut your mouth when Spencer looks at you. You shake your head and clear your throat before walking onto the crime scene and meeting the detective on the case.

"I'm Brady, LAPD."

"Derek Morgan. Dr. Reid. Y/N. The rest of the team's in an SUV behind us."

"Yeah, stuck in traffic," Spencer sasses. You grin and look at Derek who just stares at Spencer. "Uh, so you had two more victims last night?"

"They were discovered a little after 3:30 in the afternoon by a cleaning crew finishing up in the building."

"So, that's seven victims over the past two weeks?"

"Yah, the bodies are in the alley. What's left of them, anyway."

"Is it the same victimology?" Spencer asks.

You three follow the detective into the alley and over to the dismembered bodies.

"We don't have a positive ID on either one of them yet, but the clothing fits. You really think this is only one guy, huh?"

"The level of overkill suggests an unsub in a psychotic break. Multiple unsubs in violent psychotic breaks operating in the exact same location is exceedingly unlikely."

The detective stares at Spencer with a dumbfounded look on his face.

"Yeah, it's probably one guy," Derek sums it up for him.

You step off to the side and study the energy left behind by the unsub. Spencer was right, this unsub is having a psychotic break in the form of anxiety. This unsub can't focus well enough to know what's reality. You've only seen this in unsubs that have a mental health disorder or something to that effect.

"What do you see?" Derek asks.

"This unsub has a mental health issue. Something traumatic must have happened to him. I've only seen this kind of energy in unsubs who have suffered."

"Like how?"

"Something traumatic like rape or a victim of a kidnapping. Something that makes the mind block it out because it's too much for the body to take. There's too many body parts here for me to focus on one person's death. Too much chaos for me to make anything out."

The rest of your team arrives in the SUV with Rossi staying on the street to watch the growing crowd while Hotch and Emily head into the alley to meet with Detective Brady.

"Hotch, I'd say it's definitely our guy. It's the same victimology. This guy's getting off-the-charts brutal," Derek states.

"Do you know that a domestic cat loose in a normal neighborhood is the equivalent of a small-scale ecological disaster?" Spencer says, confusing the detective.

"Excuse me?"

"They'll kill anything they can--bugs, rodents, birds, other cats, and small dogs if possible. Anything."

"Does that have something to do with this?"

"An unsub in a violent psychotic break is worse."

"I'll leave you to this. I might have more luck out in the crowd."

You leave your boyfriend's side and head into the crowd, standing at the edge of the police tape. You look around and study everyone that's there. Mothers, Fathers, Families, Friends, Employees, and just about anyone else who passes by this area on the way to wherever they're going. Most of them are of no interest to you, but you spot Rossi talking to a young man, your heart stops.

He can't be any older than twenty-five, he's that young. He has a worried look on his face and a cut leg that's bleeding on his jeans, but that's not the thing you're focusing on. It's his energy. It's the same exact energy that is on this crime scene. No one has the same energy, so that guy must be the unsub.

You look both ways before crossing the street, quickly heading over to Rossi. You have to push your way through the crowd to get to him, and when you do, the young man is gone.

"Who were you just talking to?"

"I don't know. Some guy. He seemed confused. Why?"

"He has the same energy as the one left behind at the crime scene. Rossi, no two people have the same energy."

"How much of a match is it?"

"Identical. 100%. I know for a fact that the guy you were talking to was our unsub." It takes you a moment to read Rossi, and you're shocked he still has doubts about you. "You still have doubts. Haven't I done enough to prove to you I'm not some con artist?"

"Look, the guy is gone. If he pops up again, we won't let him go so easily."

"Yeah, well, someone may be dead next time."

You don't mean to be harsh about it, but you can't help it. You've proven to Rossi time and time again you know what you're doing and that you're the real deal, but he refuses to believe in you. You shake your head and are about to leave when Hotch walks up to you with JJ behind him.

"So, this area is more or less the geographical center of the scenes," Rossi says.

He is going to keep your interactions to himself since he can handle you. He doesn't need Hotch getting on your back for something he can do himself.

"Detective Brady's putting together a task force, so we can canvas these three blocks in both directions."

"Any idea how many residents that covers?"

"Garcia estimates close to three thousand," JJ says.

"A lot of these buildings are single room occupancy. High turnover rate so it's transient. There aren't a lot of records."

"The press conference went well. I think the media understands what we're looking for. Should be on local affiliates now."

"Hopefully we can thin out the suspect list."

Unbeknownst to you, the unsub striked again but in a residential house instead of an alleyway. This unsub has something to prove, and it's like he's going down the line of a list of victims he's made. You got the news about it the next day, so the unsub must have hit them during the night.

"Is it the same kind of victims as yesterday?" Derek asks Detective Brady when you get to the house.

"They're all gangbangers. Good riddance, if you ask me."

"What's the scene like?"

"It's actually the gang leader's personal house. A guy named Glen Hill. His street name is Reaper. Can you guess why? Only Benson, another officer, and I have been inside. I didn't do much. I kind of backed out the minute I saw him."

"How many victims?"

"Six. There are four inside and two outside."

"No survivors at all?"

"Glen is missing from the house, but no survivors. I never thought I could feel sorry for these gangbanging sons of bitches," he scoffs.

"The other victims were in alleys and dark corners. It could be that the unsub was initially just defending himself. Like Bernie Goetz, riding the subways with a gun and waiting for someone to confront him. Except he's seeking them out now because psychotics in a break always devolve," Spencer explains.

"It's only a matter of time before he becomes dangerous to those closer to him."

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

48 notes · View notes

dr-spencer-reids-queen · 1 year

Text

True Night: Final Part

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.4k

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill

Author’s Note: the series rewrite will continue on January 8th! Happy holidays <3

Hotch, Spencer, and Derek all head to the house to check out the inside when you stop Rossi from following them.

"Can I ask a serious question? Can you give me a serious answer?"

"Sure."

"Why can't you believe in what I can do? I can see the energy the unsub left behind here. It's the same as the alley and it's the same as the man you were talking to. "

"You want the truth? All psychics are con artists only in it for people's money."

"What money could I possibly gain from any of this except for that of a paycheck?"

"When someone dies, they are dead. They don't leave behind energies or spirits or anything like that."

"That is very simple-minded thinking, and you're very arrogant to think there aren't, on some level, spirits who stay behind because they have unfinished business. How can you be a Catholic if you don't believe in the existence of souls and spirits? I don't want to keep arguing with you, my boss, about this. If you don't want to believe in it, I can't force you. Could you at least believe that I believe this is real?"

"I can do that."

"I'm glad we've reached an understanding."

You turn and head inside the house that is covered head to toe with energies of the dead. Six people have died here, and all of them blend together since they were dismembered and scattered about the place. You look at the wall and see the initials "TSK" written there. It's also written in a few other places.

"TSK?" Hotch asks the detective.

"Twenty-third Street Killers."

"Looks like they tried to fight back and failed," Spencer mutters.

"Are sure this isn't some kind of gang retaliation kind of thing?"

"You're on the task force. Ever see a street gang do something like this?"

"No, but are you sure this was one guy?"

"Positive," you say and look at Rossi. "He has his weapon and a psychotic rage. There's a lot he can do with those two things no matter how many people are against him."

"What do we do now?" Detective Brady sighs.

"We're already doing it. An unsub in a psychotic rage stands out. Agent Jareau's got the media playing the press conference every hour. She's putting the profile out to the public. Someone in this man's world knows he's in crisis. Hopefully they'll recognize the description."

Hotch is relying on the public heavily for this case. You're too overwhelmed to separate each victim and the unsub, he seems to be killing just out of reach of the FBI, and the lead detective believes this could be the work of more than one person. So many people on so many pages, you have to rely on the media to focus on the profile and work together to bring in someone who fits the description.

Hoping and praying seems like the only thing to do, and sometimes, prayer works. Not long after the profile was circulating through the media, did someone come forward to report their friend who fits the profile to a T. It took a day to have someone come forward, but someone came forward with information on a possible suspect.

Local PD was able to catch this guy and bring him in. His name is Johnny McHale, and the person who turned him in is his good friend and manager, Bobby Kim. Johnny is a graphic artist and writer who makes comics that people love. You're not a comic book reader, but you've heard of him over the years.

You get to the police station where Detective Brady's officers are walking Johnny in. JJ is with Bobby who looks so sad for turning his friend in. You look at Johnny and nod in understanding that this was the guy Rossi was talking to. You look at Rossi who has an unreadable expression on his face.

If you would have apprehended Johnny before, you believe Glen Hill and his gang would be alive. You shake your head subtly and follow Johnny to the interrogation room. He sits down and is racked with anxiety that you believe you're the only one who can get through to him.

"I got this. Thank you," you say to the officers.

You take a deep breath and enter the interrogation room, causing Johnny to jump in freight.

"Relax, Johnny."

"I haven't done anything. There's been a big mistake here."

"If that's true, then you have nothing to worry about."

"I just draw comic books. I'm an artist. That guy out there, Bobby, I fired him. He's probably just mad."

"He's not mad at you, Johnny."

"Then why would he say that I did something? That's why he's here, right?"

"The officer who brought you in here read you your rights. Johnny, look at me." Johnny is looking everywhere but you, but finally settles on your eyes. "Tell me that you understand that you can have a lawyer present before you speak to anybody."

"I don't want a lawyer."

"Tell me you understand."

"I understand."

"I'll be right back."

"There's been a big mistake here. I haven't done anything!"

You leave the anxiety-stricken man alone in the interrogation room and head back to the main room. Hotch and Rossi come in with boxes of Johnny's belongings--too many boxes to make you feel comfortable.

"That's a lot. Did you find the murder weapon?"

"Didn't need to."

Hotch hands over his comic books and the one he's been working on, and it's the same exact scene of each crime. You gasp and look through all of them knowing he is guilty. He must not remember committing the crimes, and you know exactly why.

"Can you go get the mug shot of Glen Hill?" you ask Emily.

"Yeah. Give me a minute."

She leaves and comes back minutes later with the photo of Glen Hill.

"I know what's going on, Hotch. Though, you're going to want to be in there with me. He won't take well to what I have to say."

"What is going on?"

"This man is suffering from PTSD, and his mind blocked out his attack. He doesn't know he's doing this."

You, Detective Brady, Rossi, and Hotch all go back to the interrogation room, but you're going to take the lead on this one. Johnny looks up when you enter, and he becomes even more nervous when he sees how many people are here. You take the photo of Glen and place it in front of him.

"That's Glen Hill. He's missing."

"You think I know where he is?"

"Six months ago, he and his gang hurt you and your girlfriend, didn't they? They attacked you on the street."

"Wait, what? No!"

"Johnny, listen to me very carefully. I believe you're suffering from a post-traumatic form of a psychotic break."

"Psychotic? What are you talking about?" he panics.

"Johnny, take a deep breath for me. Please. I'll do it with you."

You puff your chest up as you inhale, and you're thankful that he does the same. You both let out your breaths at the same time.

"Johnny, I believe you don't know what you're doing here. I think you don't remember what happened to you."

"How could I not know? How could I not know what happened to me?" You show him the evidence of his comic book scenes to which he visibly relaxes to the sight of. "That's a page from something I'm working on."

"We know. I want to show you of a murder scene from two nights ago." You show him the crime scene photos of the same scene. "You were there, Johnny. You were talking to my boss."

"Wait, is this real?"

"These are members of the Twenty-third Street Killers. Glen Hill's gang," you say and show him photos of them. You also show more photos of his comics and the real crimes that match them perfectly. "There were six gang members murdered in his house last night. This was on your drawing board when you were arrested."

"No, no, this can't be. It doesn't make any sense."

"This house belongs to Glen Hill. There was a trail of blood leading out the back door. We believe that you took Mr. Hill with you when you left."

"These are just drawings--my imagination," he panics.

"Johnny, I've been where you are. I was a victim of a crime, too. I suffered like you have suffered. My mind blocked it out because it was too hard to live with it. I know how hard this is to accept. Severe PTSD isn't uncommon for victims of a violent crime. If you would just open your mind, take a couple of deep breaths, and look at these photos, you might begin to understand what's happening here."

"Whoa, victim? I'm not a victim.I would know if I'd been a victim."

"Do you remember being in the hospital?" You produce photos of his x-rays and medical records from that night. "That's your medical report. They cut you open, Johnny. You were nearly eviscerated. They said it was a miracle you lived."

"Miracle? You think living was a miracle?" he shouts.

"All of your drawings reflect actual crime scenes. All of them but one. This one." You show him a drawing of a scene you don't recognize. You believe it's where Glen is. "Where is this crime scene, Johnny? Is this where Glen is?"

"No! No! You don't know what's out there! No one knows about the night!" Johnny screams, breaking free of the handcuffs.

You knew something like this would happen which is why you brought backup. Hotch, Brady, and Rossi hold down Johnny who is in a full-on panic mode. They all pin him to the table to prevent him from going anywhere, and you're kind of off to the side so as to not get in the way.

"We don't want to hurt you, Johnny," Hotch says.

"It's okay, son. It's okay," Rossi says in a soothing voice.

"I couldn't help her. They made me watch," Johnny cries, finally remembering that night.

"It can help you if we can tell the court that you told us where Glen is."

"They made me watch," Johnny sobs.

"I know. I know. They're animals. You were sick. You didn't know what you were doing. Where's Glen, Johnny?"

Johnny gives up the location of where Glen is, but by the time Emily and Derek could get there, the place was a bloodbath. Glen had his head removed, and the entire place was caked red with his blood. Johnny isn't going to prison. He's going to an institution that can help him separate reality from fantasy.

This was one of the easiest cases to handle, so you're pretty much relaxed on the plane ride home. Penelope has been calling Derek nonstop about the changes Kevin made, and Derek is getting fed up with it all.

"Just leave it alone until I get there. Hey, Hard-head. Don't make me spank you when I get back."

"Don't listen to him, Garcia. He's all talk," Spencer speaks up so that she can hear him. Derek slaps the back side of Spencer's head lightly and walks away. "JJ, he just hit me."

"You boys behave or I will ground you both," she says without looking up from her file. You laugh and look at Spencer who rubs the back of his head. He is reading one of Johnny's comic books. "Is that one of Johnny's books?"

"Yeah, it's, uh, it's called Blue. It's about a girl who thinks she's a real human being. But it turns out she's a robot that was built by her uncle."

"So, it's Pinocchio," she chuckles.

"Yeah, it is like Pinocchio, only set in a high school in outer space."

"Oh, by the way, what happened to Vickie's phone?" Vickie was Johnny's girlfriend that died during the attack. "The one that Johnny kept calling with her message on it?"

"Oh, we gave it back to him."

"You know, I couldn't imagine having nothing left of someone but a voice message. I think I'd never stop listening to it," she sighs.

"Yeah, it's sad." Spencer takes a moment of silence before talking again, not about the case. "Hey, did you know that Carlo Lorenzini, the guy that wrote Pinocchio, was said to be obsessed with the human nose? As a matter of fact, Pinocchio wasn't even the first character--"

"Wow, that's interesting. Coffee?" JJ cuts him off, standing up to get some coffee for herself.

"I'm alright. Thank you, though, for asking."

Once she leaves, you snuggle into Spencer's side and look up at him with love in your eyes.

"I'll listen to any story you want to tell. I'll always listen to you."

He leans down and kisses you, pulling away shortly to go back to reading. You rest your head on his shoulder and read with him, enjoying the time you have together.

"The noir hero is a knight in blood caked armor. He's dirty and he does his best to deny the fact that he's a hero the whole time." - Frank Miller

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

46 notes · View notes