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#willsannievent
mercy-burning · 3 years
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She’s An Angel
Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: Spencer discovers that Reader has a rather promiscuous personality behind closed doors, and he can’t help but give into her. Category: SMUT (18+), (there’s a lil fluff at the end, but it’s mostly filth lol) Warnings: Language, heavy flirting and sexual tension, female/male-receiving oral sex, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, exhibitionism, innocence kink (kinda?), breeding kink, dirty talk Word Count: 10.8k
***EDITED: 7/23/2021***
MASTERLIST
NOTE: Hi, guys! This is my entry for @willowrose99 ‘s 1-Year Writing Challenge Celebration! My prompts were: Only Angel by Harry Styles (fun fact, this is my favorite Harry song! And the notes/texts that Reader sends to Spencer are lines from the song), stealing clothes, and the dialogue “You know, I kinda like it when you call me -pet name-” I hope you all enjoy it! I had SO MUCH FUN writing this!!!
Also! Little fun fact: sex and metaphors/references to religion is like... my favorite thing in the whole world, so I made a tiny playlist for you to give a listen if you’re interested! If you have song recs so I can add them, please let me know! I’m always on the lookout for new stuff :) Enjoy!!
***
He didn't think much of it the first day she started working at the BAU. If anything, Spencer was glad that they had an intern— someone who could share some of their responsibilities without completely changing the dynamic of the work. She even became part of their family, going out with them after cases, attending every workplace gathering, whether it be a wedding for a co-worker they didn't see often, one of Rossi's dinner parties, or Henry's birthday party.
It wasn't until they were setting up for the BAU office Halloween party that he noticed something was... different.
Y/N and Spencer were put on decorating duty while everyone else brought food and music, and whatever else. They stopped by extra early to set up, meaning they would be there together, alone, for at least two hours before anyone showed up.
Normally that wouldn't have been anything to worry about, but Y/N showed up in costume, and it completely threw him for a loop.
Now, he wasn't one to really care whether or not people used Halloween as an outlet to dress like sexy nurses or cheerleaders or whatever else. Sure, he'd rather go with something on the scary side, something with a creepy mask or intricate makeup, but in the end the holiday was everyone's to enjoy how they wanted to. And one way or the other, he never saw anyone in a sexy Halloween costume and found himself tempted by them in the slightest. In fact, it was rare that he ever saw anyone in one at all.
So, when Y/N slowed up to the office wearing a very skin-tight, tiny schoolgirl costume, and his heart leapt out of his chest, mouth going dry and blood running hot at the sight of her?
He was a goner.
Her eyes lit up when she saw him, dropping the large bag she was carrying to run over and give him a hug, which he shakily returned, trying to snap out of his daze. Suddenly he felt a little underdressed, not wearing his costume yet, and truthfully, he wasn't sure if he wanted to wear one at all now, fearful that she'd think it was too immature.
Even more frightening than the holiday itself was the fact that Spencer found himself caring about what Y/N would think of his costume when a minute ago it hadn't even crossed his mind.
He cleared his throat and blinked rapidly before she released him from her hug, hoping to expel his fear and remember that she was his friend and she'd never actually say anything bad about his costume. Not that that'd even mattered in the first place. It shouldn't have mattered, right?
God, pull yourself together! She's just a pretty girl dressed in a suggestive costume, it's nothing you haven't seen before...
Though, he wasn't even sure he could call her a pretty girl right then.
Because when she pulled away from him, talking about some of the decorations she brought, he had ample opportunity to get a good look at her costume up close. And she wasn't pretty. She was downright sexy, all legs protruding underneath a short plaid skirt and adorning shiny black heels, curly hair tumbling down her shoulders in pigtails. Her shirt was so low, most of the buttons undone to reveal a black lacy bra underneath. She wore a pair of glasses that sat cutely on the tip of her nose and minimal makeup, the only noticeable thing being bright red lip color.
That wasn't what was different, though.
Sure, she'd never worn anything that scandalous around work or even on nights out, but it wasn't the fact that she'd done so now that felt strange. No, it was the way she looked up at him, her head hung low and her eyes looking up through eyelashes. When she got excited to tell him something, she pitched her voice higher. And often times, she'd put herself in compromising positions, and it seemed like it was on purpose.
At one point she stood right in front of him trying to hang a streamer on a beam she was most certainly not tall enough to reach. Her arms stretched high, all fabric on her body rising up and exposing more skin. Spencer quickly tried to avoid any problems, offering to help so she wouldn't hurt herself, first of all, but also so that he wouldn't find himself staring too long when he shouldn't have been staring at all.
The whole time they were decorating, she found excuses to drop things and pick them up, to stumble and hold onto his arm for steadiness, to accidentally brush past him... And that's what was so different about her.
He didn't want to assume she'd been drinking before coming to the office, and if he'd known any better he wouldn't have assumed it in the first place. But that was the one and only thing that crossed his mind that could have been the answer to her strange behavior, despite the lack of alcohol on her breath. (The only reason he knew her breath didn't smell of alcohol was because at one point, she hugged him again and pulled back to look in his eyes, brushing stray curls from his face and telling him they did a good job finishing up the room they'd been working on.)
Now they were in the conference room, and Spencer was hanging streamers as Y/N sat in one of the chairs, wheeled back to the middle of the room so she could observe everything. Well... observe Spencer was more correct. At least that's what he figured, anyway. It was like he could feel her eyes burning into the back of him. Or maybe he was just still unable to get over the fact that she and her stupidly hot costume had had that big of an effect on him.
He stood down from the chair and asked Y/N to hand him more tape, refusing to look at her.
"Spence, are you alright?" she asked sweetly, rolling her chair over to the table so she could reach the tape. The innocent concern in her voice had that same suspicious tone to it that wouldn't leave him alone, like it was nagging him and calling to him... begging to confront her.
He flicked his gaze down to meet hers for the briefest of seconds before looking back at the table. "N—Yeah, I'm fine."
"Are you sure?" She picked up the tape and toyed with it between her fingers, which were manicured a light pink color. He couldn't help but stare at them. "You seem a little... on edge."
With a swallow, an attempt to bring moisture back to his throat, Spencer shook his head. "I'm... No, I'm sure. Everything's fine."
Y/N sighed. "Well, I've been working with you profilers for some time now, and... I think I can tell when you're lying. Was it... something I did?"
There she went again, her voice high and soft. Innocent. Like she was in character.
Spencer looked at her face again, and then immediately he regretted it. She was half pouting at him, doe-eyed and head tilted to expose her neck. He swallowed again, trying to figure her out while also figuring out what to say.
"No," is what he settled on, audibly nervous.
She could tell, too, because he thought he saw her smirk for just a split second. But then it was gone, replaced once again by her pout. "Oh... Good. Because I thought for a second that you didn't like my costume."
She obviously had to be up to something, right? Was she... flirting with him? And more importantly, did he want her to flirt with him? He'd never really thought about Y/N in that context before, but she was single, beautiful, and... well, truthfully that's all he really knew about her. They'd been friends for about a year now, and he couldn't put together one single thought about her other than the stuttering, muddled confusion over the fact that she was in a sexy Halloween costume and most likely openly flirting with him.
What was that Emily said once about his IQ dropping in the presence of a pretty woman?
Y/N had rendered him utterly thoughtless.
And speechless, too, apparently, because he stood there, staring at her without saying a single word.
"Spencer," she called out softly, almost like a lullaby. Her chair rolled back, away from the table to give him a better view of her legs as she un-crossed them and very slightly opened her knees. "Do you think I'm pretty?"
As if he wasn't already practically burning inside-out since the moment she arrived at the office, now his blood ran hot, and he was suddenly very uncomfortably warm. "U—Um, y—yes, you're... You're beautiful, y—your costume... It's nice, it looks nice on you."
Her pout slowly turned into a smile as she patted her knees. "Thank you... I wore it just for you, you know."
Is this some sort of bizarre dream? he wondered, his knees almost buckling at her words, their tone, and the meaning of it all.
"Y—You did?" he whispered brokenly.
"Mnmm," she drawled as her fingers toyed with themselves. "You teach, right?"
"Sometimes."
Y/N hummed and nodded, her legs still closed enough that he couldn't see anything... extra promiscuous. "You know, I bet you have quite a few students who find you attractive... Tell me, do any of them dress like this?"
She leaned back in the chair and started to run her hands slowly up the inside of her thigh, just above her knee. "Do they ever... Sit in the front row and... spread their legs just enough for you to see the pretty panties they picked out... just for you..."
By now her hands were resting on the inside of her thighs, her legs spread in exactly the way she'd described. He couldn't help himself. There she was, offering herself to him, and in his line of vision was the faintest glimpse of baby pink fabric that matched the color of her fingernails.
He didn't even know how to verbally respond. By now he was sure his face was beet red, and his palms were sweating so badly and struggling to keep him upright as he leaned forward on the table. Ah, the table— the only thing separating him from her, a fact which he wasn't quite sure if he was thankful for or not.
The spell she had around her broke when her phone rang. And just like that, it was like she was... herself again. At least, the 'herself' Spencer had always known. She sat up and walked over to the other side of the room to grab her phone from her bag, reading the screen as he struggled to catch his breath.
"It's Penelope. She has a costume emergency I have to help with. Are you good putting the rest of these up?"
"U—Um, yeah. Yeah, go."
Y/N smiled and grabbed her bag, thanking him as she walked past and left him behind.
He heard her call back as her figure was etching itself into his brain, ready to remain there until the end of time. "Can't wait to see your costume!"
***
Luke and Tara were having a conversation that he was supposed to be paying attention to, but Spencer's mind was still occupied by Y/N and her... outward display of sensuality.
Her voice was echoing in his brain, replaying over and over how she'd dressed up for him. And the longer he tried to wrap his brain around everything, the more he wound up confused. Where had her forwardness even come from? Had she been actively interested in him this whole time and he just hadn't seen it until now? A possibility, but why had she chosen to go to that extreme rather than just tell him the truth? Maybe she'd just found being overtly sexual an easier tactic than others?
Or maybe, in the end, she was just messing with him. Even though Derek had moved away, it was entirely possible that he'd somehow concocted one of his ridiculous pranks and roped Y/N into helping him since he wasn't around to do it himself. A smart move, though it was highly unlikely.
Spencer just didn't know what to do. Depending on how the rest of the night went, he was probably just going to have to muster up the courage to ask her what her intentions were. And depending on what she says, he was going to have to figure out what he wanted from their relationship... Did she want just sex? Did he want just sex? Did she want to go out with him? Is that something he would want as well?
He was just about to mull it over when Penelope's boisterous laugh sounded from the other side of the room. Spencer looked up, eager to see if Y/N was with her, since she'd been called away on a costume emergency. Penelope was dressed as a devil, red sparkly horns on her red-streaked, curled hair. She was dressed head-to-toe in a red dress and shoes that felt very much like her, with feathers and sequins, and her makeup was also red and black and absolutely glittery.
And sure enough, behind her stood the woman who'd been occupying Spencer's mind for the past hour and a half. Though, she wasn't dressed as a schoolgirl anymore.
He found himself swearing under his breath as he took her in, shimmering where she stood, dressed in all white.
She was an angel.
An actual angel. Her hair fell loose around her, accessorized with a headband with a golden halo attached to it. Her dress was still pretty form-fitting, though nowhere near as scandalous as her previous outfit. It was long and flowed out at the bottom until it hit the floor, a ring of gold at the hem. The sleeves were also long and bell-bottomed, accented with gold at the end.
And from where Spencer stood, even that far away, he noticed the glitter that surrounded her eyes, gold to compliment the color on her dress. Her lips were still bright red, and her glasses were gone. And the wings... As small as they were—most likely to keep from taking up too much space—they stood out in any crowd, purely white and outlined in gold, just like the rest of her outfit.
Why had she changed? Did... she actually change at all? Had he truly only imagined their encounter hours ago?
"Any... specific angels crossing your mind?" Spencer heard Luke say, punctuated with a pat on the shoulder.
He blinked and looked at him. "What?"
"Y/N... She makes a pretty good angel, eh?"
"Uh, yeah, I—I guess so."
Luke and Tara laughed, obviously amused by all of this. But they hadn't seen her earlier. They hadn't been there to witness her seducing him and acting like she'd done it a million times over. They didn't know what she was doing to him, inhabiting every corner of his brain and driving him mad trying to figure it all out.
But it wasn't uncommon for his friends to tease him about the female attention he got sometimes. And when it was obvious that he was flustered, they kept the friendly teasing going. And every time, he settled on leaving it alone, because he knew it would pass and he wouldn't have to worry about it again, at least until the next woman hit on him in public.
And Y/N? She worked with them. As long as she was in his head, he was afraid he'd never stop being flustered in her presence.
So he had to know. He had to talk to her and see what was going on, no matter how awkward it might get.
For now though, it was Halloween, and he was going to spend the night with his friends while doing the very rare amount of drinking and the more frequent amount of laughter.
The night didn't come without a few looks in Y/N's direction, though. She never came up to him directly, though a few times he'd catch her looking at him. And each time, she'd wave and continue on her merry way, laughing with Emily or doing some silly dance with Penelope in their coupling costumes.
Honestly, if earlier hadn't happened, he would have thought nothing of it. She was being completely normal. Happy, friendly... Simply Y/N, as he'd known her for the past year and a half.
He just finished saying goodbye to JJ, who was leaving early to go trick-or-treating with her kids, when she finally approached him. At the sight of her getting closer, her otherworldliness making his blood go warm again, he tried to compose himself. After all, there was no way she'd do anything sensual in public like this, right?
"I didn't get a chance to compliment you on your costume yet," she said brightly, her voice not carrying that higher tone from before. "You make a very believable zombie."
He looked down at his tattered clothes, a small laugh escaping him. "Thank you... It's no high-level makeup job, but I tried my best."
When he looked back up to her, the shimmer of her makeup basked her in a glow that made it incredibly hard to breathe. She really was pretty. Still sexy, of course, but in an understated way this time.
And he couldn't help but bring up the difference. "You... changed."
Something sparkled in her eyes then, giving them a devious glint that inherently contradicted her costume, and the mere implications of that made him tremble, especially as she said, "Mhm... I figured the schoolgirl costume was a little too inappropriate for the workplace. And besides... I did say I wore it just... for you..."
So he hadn't imagined the whole thing... On the one hand he was relieved to know he wasn't freaking out over something that hadn't actually happened. But... on the other, what did that leave him with?
It left him with a woman who was standing in front of him, dressed like an angel while giving him all sorts of devilish feelings.
Once again she'd rendered him speechless, though now his thoughts were filled with images of those pretty, glimmering eyes above him, watching as he worshipped her between her legs... Of her hands twisted in his hair as he showed her just how much he wanted her, to show her how beautiful she was.
Those thoughts were interrupted when she got closer, toying with a stray curl that stuck out from his head. She twirled it around her finger and looked up at him, doe-eyed again as she purred, "Happy Halloween, Doctor Reid."
She was gone too quickly, whisked away by the throes of an office holiday party that, one way or another, served as the beginning to a long, tempestuous affair.
***
In the weeks that followed, Spencer went about his days as normally as he could, focusing on work, and getting ready for another month of teaching, where he'd be away from his friends and, therefore, also away from Y/N.
It's not that he necessarily wanted to be away from her... Yet, after constant flirting with no direction other than his dreams filling with filthy images of the two of them together and no actual outlet for it, he figured a break would do him some good. Of course, he wasn't sure what would await him when he came back—if she'd forget about all of it and give up or if she'd come at him stronger than before.
It was his final day before leave, and so naturally, Y/N had to make it hard on him. He was sure that's what she was doing.
Since it was getting colder, she strayed away from skirts, though occasionally she would show up to work in a longer dress or a shirt that hugged her in all the right places, especially on the days that he would be working with her more. She had the BAU's schedules on hand always, so she had to be using that as a way to get to him.
On those days, she often used her higher pitch when she spoke to him, and her eyes were always adventurous— they wandered over every part of his body and sometimes quickly blinked away when he caught her, accompanying an embarrassed smile. (Though, Spencer was convinced she really was absolutely not embarrassed.)
Other times she pulled the "Oops, I dropped something," trick, and "You know, it's almost Winter but it's still so warm in here, don't you think?" followed by a stretch of her body as she slowly put her hair up or dragged it over her shoulder. 
His plan was to wait until he got back from leave, assess their situation from there after he'd cleared his head for a while, and then talk to her about what the hell was going on. Though the thought of confronting her scared him a little, he knew he couldn't let this go on any longer without some sort of conversation about what was next... What it all meant. It would drive him crazy otherwise.
With all the sensual, suggestive looks and actions she was throwing at him, though, it was a wonder he hadn't gotten to that point already.
As if she'd figured this out—because of course she would have found a way to get into his brain and know what he was thinking and feeling before he could even do so himself—Y/N stood by a storage closet with a clipboard. She pretended to write things down, when in reality she was looking up at him every so often, biting her lip and crossing her legs where she stood. She looked utterly desperate for something, almost like it was painful for her to be deprived of whatever it was she was looking for.
Spencer had a sneaking suspicion he knew what that was. And the thought sent a wave of electricity through his veins. All day she'd been going extra hard in attempts to catch his attention, and since it was his final day before leaving for a month, he knew that had to be the reason why.
If catching his attention was her goal, she'd definitely succeeded.
Across the room, and across a small sea of co-workers who were head-down, going through paperwork, he caught her eye and waited, his fingers twitching like they wanted to reach out to her. She tilted her head to the side and tucked her bottom lip between her teeth, staring back at him like she was in a daydream.
And sure enough, she was standing underneath a light, one singular beam that sat atop her head like a halo and bathed her in a soft glow.
Even without the costume, she was an angel... For a moment Spencer wondered if maybe she'd planed on it all from the start— making her move by dressing like an angel on Halloween for one night and then finding any way on purpose to replicate that presence without actually dressing up again. Was it a way to mess with his head, to make him believe that she was calling to him? That she would... save him somehow?
He had to know what she was doing.
So he gave in and stood up, his eyes keeping contact with hers as he got closer and closer. Before he could get to her, though, she winked and then turned around, entering the storage closet and disappearing before his eyes. Still, he followed her, desperately hoping that's what she wanted.
And with a silent prayer that felt ironic as he thought it, Spencer opened the door and entered the adventure that awaited him. Whether it would be heavenly or otherwise he wasn't sure, but either way he was ready to confront it.
Y/N had turned on a desk lamp, its orange glow the only source of light in an otherwise pitch-black space. She leaned back against a table, still standing with her legs crossed over each other, hands bracing themselves on the tabletop. "How's it going, Doctor Reid?"
"What are you doing?" he asked, almost immediately after she greeted him. Now that he was alone with her, away from unassuming eyes, he exhaled and visibly showed his confusion through pleading eyes. "Please, I need to know what you're doing..."
He barely saw the contours of her face through dim lighting as she smiled. "What do you mean?"
"Y/N... Don't do that." He took a step closer, even though the quick beating of his heart signaled that it might have been a dangerous move. "Tell me..."
"Isn't it obvious?" she cooed, her hands coming out to toy with the hem of her frilly skirt.
As he looked down at it, he had to wonder if there really was a God out there, some higher being that sent this angel down to destroy him. How else did it stand to happen that even though it was nearing the end of November, the one day it was warm enough for Y/N not to freeze while wearing a skirt was the final day he had before leaving for a whole moth?—Before it was inevitably snowy and she wouldn't have the luxury to tease him with her skin?
She must have caught his lingering gaze on her legs, because she laughed softly, spreading them to stand a bit further apart while her fingers very lightly pushed the fabric of her skirt up. "I've been trying to get your attention ever since I got here... But you never seemed to notice. So I figured... Why not be a little more... forthcoming..."
"Y—You could have... said something," he whispered, forcing himself to look at her face. But as he was learning, he couldn't look at any part of her without his whole body going up in flames. 
By now she was walking closer to him, small, languid steps that perfectly showcased how her body could move. "Well... Truth is, I was scared... Every time I tried to talk to you, I got really nervous..." Her voice was demure, apologetic almost... Embarrassed. But it had to have just been part of the allure, right? Part of her show? "You're just so... intimidating."
Spencer swallowed, a small laugh coming from him as he tried not to collapse at her closeness. "I'm... I'm really not..."
But she laughed, finally close enough to reach out and grab his tie, which is what she did. She held the fabric in her hands for a few seconds before letting it drop, bringing her pointer finger to gently trace patterns on his chest. "Not in a mean way, silly... You're... incredibly smart, and you're good at your job... You're always so nice to everyone... And I bet you really know how to make a girl feel good..."
He found himself trembling under her touch again as she brought her hand down to meet his. She leaned up to nudge his chin with her nose as she moved his hand to the inside of her thigh. It was only the slightest of touches, nothing rushed or passionate about it. In fact, Y/N seemed more taken with the idea of using her touch to draw everything out— to make him pine for it, lose all semblance of sanity until he finally gave in and did whatever he wanted to her.
"Don't you wanna know what it feels like to touch me?" she whispered, her breath hot on his neck. Meanwhile her hand guided his own farther up her skirt, until he felt her skin getting warmer and warmer with each millimeter. His throat was dry, breath shaky as he fluttered his eyes closed and embraced the moment, embraced the guidance... "To feel how wet you make me?"
His heart practically leapt out of his chest once his hand was finally met with said wetness. Her panties were damp and oh so warm, and he couldn't stop the whine that left his throat as she pressed his fingers hard into her against the fabric. Her fingers covered his like a glove, guiding them in small circles over her clothed clit as she sighed into his neck.
"You feel that?" she asked, nuzzling into his skin. "That's what you do to me, Doctor.  From the moment I saw you, I knew you'd ruin me..."
He breathed a laugh then, finding it utterly ironic how that's how she felt. She could have just been toying with him, but there was enough longing and desperation in her voice to let him know she really meant it. She'd been waiting for him to come along and whisk her away...
So that's what he was going to do.
Spencer removed his hand from her then, walking them over to the table and pulling her right to him by gripping the waistband of her panties and keeping her still. The gasp she let out fueled him in a way that would have wrecked him if the job hadn't already been done. As he looked down at her, her body was basked in the soft orange luminescence of the desk lamp, a sight that aesthetically added to his desire and farther fueled the heat that had been accumulating in his veins, waiting to be released.
"Is that what you want, angel?" he breathed, the words even taking him by surprise. His sexual experience was far from non-existent, but it was limited enough that he'd never acted this feral before. Never had a partner ever had this strong of a hold on him, so tight that he found it a struggle to breathe. Add on the fact that he wanted to embrace that struggle if it meant being this way with her, and you had a man who was completely unraveling under the allure of one single woman until she ultimately brought forth his demise. "You want me to ruin you?"
Though he was giving in, like he assumed she wanted in the first place, Y/N hummed, tilting her head again and blinking up at him. "You know, I kinda like it when you call me angel..."
Spencer gripped the fabric tighter, and she whined. "Is it what you want?" In other words, Do you want this? 
Y/N nodded, and then he crashed his lips with hers as he tugged at her panties and let them drop to the floor in a pool around her feet. She flung her arms around his shoulders and pressed herself into him more, allowing his tongue to part her lips and explore her with liveliness. She was more than welcome to embracing it, verbally giving him praises in the form of whimpers and physical ones in the form of her hips rolling forward to get more friction.
As one of his hands found purchase under one of her thighs, he thought back to Halloween night, and how he'd imagined his head between her legs. The memory had his entire body tensing with pleasure, and without a second thought, he pulled away and dropped to his knees, looking up at her with what he hoped was the purest form of desire.
He looked up at her, admiring the way her face looked in the dim light, as he lifted one of her legs and placed it on his shoulder. Still keeping eye contact, he tilted his head and kissed the inside of her leg. But eventually he let his focus lean to immersing himself in her pleasure, tearing his eyes away from hers and completely shifting his head to face her leg. His lips trailed upwards, taking his time to remember the taste and the feel of her soft skin. 
The higher he got, the heavier her breathing became, and it wasn't long before he fully had his head under her skirt. She tried to move the fabric so she could see him, but he gripped her wrists and pinned them at her sides, eliciting a laugh from her that quickly turned into a whimper once he brushed his nose over where she ached for him.
Without being able to stop himself, Spencer inhaled, breathing her in and letting out a shaky breath as he inched closer and involuntarily closed his eyes, completely wrapped up in her like he'd never felt before. He was intoxicated by her, even more so when his mouth finally made contact with her dripping cunt.
Feeling her shudder above him was almost as heavenly as the way she tasted, sweet and bitter and oh so delectable. He'd never craved anything more than her in that moment, his tongue lapping her up and making a point to taste all of her. He explored and worshipped and praised her just how he'd imagined he would, though now that it was actually happening and he'd really had a taste of her, he wasn't sure he could ever go back.
Not that he wanted to. Especially as she whined and rolled her hips against his face, seeking more pleasure as she tried to be quiet in the closet.
Spencer, though he knew the importance of keeping it quiet right then, couldn't say he was the same way. Since his head was hiked up her skirt, and his sounds were muffled by her skin, he was as loud as he wanted to be, groaning into her and mumbling praises in between while catching his breath. He reveled in the feeling of her wetness coating the lower half of his face and the sounds that both pairs of her lips were providing. It truly was better than any symphony or choir he'd ever heard, and if he could spend the rest of his life down there, worshipping at her altar and giving her everything she desired, he would have.
But they were at work, and if they were gone too long, it would get suspicious.
So, as much as he wanted to draw out her pleasure—and by association, his own—he focused on getting her to her peak, flicking his tongue out over her clit and letting her hips rock forward to get her exactly where she wanted to be.
He knew she was about to come when she stopped whining and whimpering altogether, the leg she had draped over his shoulder curling and tightening around him to keep herself steady.
His tongue was relentless, keeping at what it was doing while Spencer imagined what her face must have looked like. Were her eyes rolling to the back of her head or were they squeezed tight? And her mouth— was it hanging open? Was her bottom lip tucked between her teeth as she attempted to keep herself from yelling out? And as her hands struggled in his grasp, trying to escape most likely in favor of gripping his hair, he imagined them tied up above her head, attached to his bedframe as he took his time, drawing out every little sound she could have possibly made until she was just as unraveled as he was.
And then her grip loosened all around him, a whiny sigh escaping from her mouth, and Spencer reluctantly drew himself away from her. He dropped her leg from his shoulder and licked at his lips, tasting as much of her as he could before he had to return to work. And then, when he was moving to remove his head from under her skirt, he caught sight of her panties on the ground, picking them up and sliding the garment lightly up along her leg as he stood.
The only thing was, he wasn't putting them back on her.
No, they hung loose between his fingers as they tickled the inside of her legs, and when he finally stood tall enough to tower over her again, he got as close as he could to her, bringing the fabric up between her legs, right where he'd just been, and pressed them firmly to her sensitive pussy.
"Time to clean you up, angel," he whispered, swiping his hand forward and doing exactly that. Y/N whined against his mouth, faintly tasting herself on his lips as he cleaned her.
He kissed her then, gently, removing his hand from under her skirt and depositing the damp fabric right into his pocket.
If Spencer hadn't known already that he was done for, he would have figured it out right then, when he pulled back far enough to see the high, blissed out look in her pretty eyes. She blinked at him and sighed, telling him one final thing before she pushed past him and walked out into the office with no underwear and half-wobbly legs.
"I miss you already, Doctor..."
***
He missed her, too.
The month-long leave was supposed to assist in letting him clear his head, but the longer he was away from her, the more it drove him mad. Occasionally he'd still taste the sweet tanginess of her on his tongue, and no amount of coffee could rinse it out. Sometimes he'd be grading papers and daydream about hearing her whimper out his name as he took care of her.
It didn't help that she also sent him texts, little things that would have sounded innocent to anyone else but had a way more promiscuous meaning to the both of them. They mostly involved the discussion of angels, of course, as she left him with a quote or a song lyric, and other days with a fact about a specific angel.
Today, the morning before classes started, she sent him, She's gonna be an angel, just you wait and see... Spencer didn't know what it meant, what it was referencing, but it was innocent enough that he didn't think anything of it until lunch rolled around and he checked his phone to see another text.
...When it turns out she's a devil in between the sheets.
He couldn't stop thinking about it. All day, even as he was trying to distract himself by lecturing, all he could see in his mind was Y/N. Sometimes with her angel costume on, but mostly with nothing on, her body fitting into his like a puzzle piece as she sighed out his name like a prayer.
And to think, he had one more week until he would see her again.
But then he was looking through his students' quizzes, small sheets of paper with some terminology and matching definitions they needed to pair together. Since there were only about five minutes left until the class was over, he let his students spend the rest of the time how they chose, not really in the mood to burn himself out speaking when he knew it was only a matter of time before he slipped and said something about Y/N that he shouldn't.
The next quiz he grabbed was folded in half, unusual, but he opened it and was looking to go about his merry way regardless. But then he saw a post-it note right in the middle of the paper, reading She's an angel, my only angel, and punctuated with a pair of red lips.
The first thing he did was drop the pen that was in his hand. Not like he did it on purpose, though, he was pretty sure all joint and muscle function was lost upon reading the handwriting he knew so well, and a reference that only she could make.
And then he looked up, eyes scanning the sea of students to find her. She had to have been there, right? A few of the students found it odd that he was just looking through all of them, but all he was worried about was finding her.
And there she was.
Y/N had tucked herself all the way in the back, her eyes locked directly onto him. She winked then, when she knew she had his attention, and all Spencer could think about was how it must have been another dream. Her texts from earlier had gotten to him more than usual, and because of it, he was seeing her everywhere, seeing what he wanted to see.
Even though he wanted to keep looking at her, to try and figure out if she was really there or if she was just a figment of his devilish mind, he didn't want anyone to catch him. To anyone else it would look like he might have been staring at another student, and with the lust he knew was definitely swimming in them, the last thing he wanted to do was get in trouble like that.
So, to his dismay and reluctance, he slipped the note into the drawer beside him and quietly finished grading, even though he was longing to see how else he could let Y/N destroy him.
Even as the bell rang and everyone filtered out, Spencer kept his head low, refusing to look up until everyone was gone and only one person remained.
The quieter it got, the harder he could feel his heart beating. And then the only thing that cut through the silence was that unmistakable, angelic high pitch that would surely never fail to bring him to his knees.
"Did you get my note, Doctor?"
Only then did he allow himself to look up, and when he did, seeing her closer to him than she'd been in almost a month now, it was like the stars aligned. "Yes," he whispered, getting out of his seat and walking around the desk to be as close to her as possible.
She laughed and met him in the middle, nearly trapping him between herself and the desk. Her hands reached out to grab at his suit jacket and he wished that she'd touch him somewhere else. Anywhere else, just to feel the soft warmth of her skin.
"And my texts?" she cooed, taking another step and actually trapping him between her body and his desk.
"Y—Yeah, I got them."
"Oh, good. I've been thinking a lot about how you left me..." She slid her hands then, under his jacket and across his stomach until they reached his waist. "The second I got in my car to go home, you were already on your way here... And I couldn't help but wonder what you were doing with my panties..."
They were currently back in his hotel room, in the drawer and laying atop of his own clothes, a vision that had him reeling, wondering if she was wearing any now. So he asked. "Are... Um..."
Well, he tried to ask, anyway.
Y/N caught on, though, beaming at him as her hands removed herself from him and slipped up her skirt. "You wanna see the pair I'm wearing now?"
"Y/N... There's... Someone could come in, I..."
She clucked her tongue. "Oh, I wouldn't want to get you in trouble, don't worry. I'll just... Give you a quick peek."
She didn't wait for him to respond, lifting the hem of the skirt and stepping back so he could see the front of her underwear, which were white and printed with black cursive lettering.
Angel.
As soon as he exhaled, loud and obviously very turned on at the sight in front of him, she dropped the skirt and smiled. "You like them? I needed to buy a new pair since you felt the need to steal my others..."
Spencer really didn't know what to say. All he knew was that his body was on fire, and the tightening of his pants was extremely dangerous since he had another class in a half hour and there wasn't enough time to take care of it unless they did something right now. And even then, they were in a public area with hardly anywhere to go. His best bet would be to go to the bathroom and be as inconspicuous as possible to take care of it himself. Or, Y/N needed to leave immediately so he could settle down and just let it go away on its own.
Unfortunately, he seemed to have a hard time denying her of anything.
Which was why he didn't stop her when she sunk to her knees.
As she undid his belt, looking up at him  with sparkling eyes, she spoke to him. "Honestly, I had every intention to just make out with you a little, just enough to satiate myself until I can see you again next week, but... Well, I'm wearing lipstick, and I wouldn't want to embarrass you."
He'd made out with a woman before, who'd worn lipstick, and surprisingly it was pretty easy to remove, so he knew she had to have been lying as some part of a bigger scheme, but... he couldn't quite figure out what that was. Obviously she had plans to take care of his erection for him, so why make up the story?
But then she kept talking, only slightly pulling down his pants and palming him through his underwear. "And then I thought about how pretty you'd look covered in lipstick kisses, and, well... It's always good to start somewhere, don't you think?"
Oh...
His stomach did flips when she traced his dick through the fabric covering it, gently with her middle finger. And then, looking into his eyes from below, she pulled it out and slowly stroked it with her hand, a low hum coming from her throat. "Mmm, I can't wait to mark up this pretty cock..."
That's when he lost all semblance of control, a strained groan falling from his lips, coming from the great depths of his chest, just from her words alone. And she took that moment to lean forward and press the gentlest of kisses to the base of his dick. She held her lips there for a second or wo before removing them and moving just a little higher, her eyes never leaving his face.
Her kisses trailed higher and higher, centimeter by centimeter until she reached his tip, where she ever so slightly flicked her tongue over the slit at the top, tasting his precum. And then gave him one final kiss—one final red mark.
The temptation to grab her hair and hold her there while he fucked her throat was strong, but as he looked down at her, she was examining her handiwork with a seductive hunger that made him realize that no matter how strong his urges got, she would always be the one in charge. Even if she acted all innocent and submissive, she was the one who held the key to his sexual desires, and therefore she was the only one who had the ability to unlock them.
So, he contained himself as she looked up at him, winked, and quickly tucked his hard dick back into the confines of his pants.
And when she stood up, she leaned up to his cheek and pressed another kiss there, leaving behind a red mark and all all his sanity with it, quickly turning away before he could catch her.
"See you later, Doctor," she called over her shoulder before she disappeared out the door.
Spencer let out a long, unsteady breath, debating on whether or not he should take care of his situation in the bathroom or right there in the classroom, behind his desk and into the trash can underneath it while he still had ample time to do so.
He sat in the chair about a minute later, his hand moving furiously under the desk as he breathed out hushed whispers of her name.
***
No matter how badly he wanted more alcohol in his system, he wasn't going to allow it. After one drink he was already starting to feel the affects, veins buzzing right along with the low hum of the music from inside. The single streetlight above him provided only the dimmest of lights as he took deep breaths in and out, focusing on the bitter cold from the December air and the soft pelting of snowflakes upon the skin of his cheeks.
Y/N's touch still burned him, right along his inner thigh where her hand had firmly rested while they and the rest of their friends ate dinner at the bar. All night so far, she'd been teasing him to no end, whether it was a brush of her hand against his crotch or a tiny kiss on the shoulder when no one was looking.
How no one had figured them out yet was a mystery.
Spencer rubbed his hands together, trying to keep them warm when he felt it. She was behind him.
"You've been out here for a while, Spence, is everything okay?" Even when she wasn't speaking to him in her angelic higher pitch, he still felt like succumbing to the sound her voice regardless.
He turned around to face her, and sighed. It figured that even surrounded by a street that was covered in brown-tainted snow, she wouldn't have let it taint her beauty. He was convinced that no matter where she was or what she looked like, she'd always be perfect— capable of knocking the breath out of him every time he looked at her. "Honestly, you've been driving me crazy."
"Oh," she said, her eyes slightly shifting to the ground. "Maybe I... did take it too far, I... I'm sorry." The slight tinge of embarrassment and maybe regret that filtered through her voice nearly ran him to the ground— How could she ever believe that he would feel overwhelmed by her? Sure, to some extent, he was extremely overwhelmed by her, but it was never a negative thing.
"Oh, angel, that's not what I meant," he explained softly, taking a few steps towards her.
She lifted her head, eyes doe-eyed and sparkling, though not as they usually were. This time they were swimming in a softness that made him yearn for her even more. "What?"
"I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm absolutely mesmerized by you... Y/N..." Spencer brought a hand to lightly caress her face, and when she leaned into his touch it made him so warm he thought it would melt all of the snow. "I can't get you out of my head, and I... I don't know if I ever want to. I mean that."
"Y—You're not... weirded out or anything?" she asked softly. "That I just... sprung all my feelings and my lust out onto you all at once? B—Because I know it was sudden, and I came on really strong so fast, I just... I thought you liked it, and so I just kept going, but really I should have stopped and... I don't know, asked if you were okay with it..."
He'd seen this softness in her before— When she watched over JJ's kids in the office sometimes, and when she helped Penelope set the table for their 'family dinners'. Every time, on the rare occasion that she actually went on cases with them, when she helped JJ comfort the families who'd lost their loved ones, he saw it. And even through all the lust, that sweetness in her soul was what truly made her an angel. Even though the lust is all he'd been swimming in since Halloween, deep down he really knew that it was only a small part of who she really was.
So, he said to her, "Y/N, I'm enchanted by all of you. I don't... I don't know what happened to make you want to come on strong to me, but... I'm glad you did. Believe me when I say, there is nothing about you that would scare me away."
He didn't know how she was feeling, but she practically visibly melted at his words, right in front of him. "You really mean that?"
With a smile, Spencer stepped even closer and brushed a thumb over her bottom lip. "Of course I mean it, my angel."
She laughed then, her hands wrapping themselves over his waist. "Your angel, huh?"
"Mhm... If you'd like to be..."
Y/N leaned up and pressed her lips to his in answer, firmly and with all the sweetness she had nestled inside her soul.
But the longer they stood there outside the bar, kisses growing warmer and hungrier with each passing second, Spencer realized that he didn't want her sweetness any longer, not tonight anyway. He cradled her face in his hands, feeling the fire in his veins come alive when she whined into his mouth and willed herself closer.
Before he could say fuck it and decide to take her right there outside, he pulled away, still needing her but not entirely willing to get themselves caught for public indecency.
Y/N spoke before he got a chance to, her higher pitch coming back and almost bringing him to his knees.
"What do you say you take your angel home and show her a good time?"
***
She didn't even get a chance to close the door to his apartment before he was on her, his hands tugging at her coat to get it off.
It was a frenzy, at least while they were stripping. Jackets and boots and scarves were strewn across the entryway and leading into the living room, until each of them only had two layers: their regular clothes and what they wore underneath. And that's when they finally allowed themselves the luxury of wrapping their limbs around each other.
Her legs wrapped around his waist as he grabbed ahold of her ass to keep her steady. For added support, she flung her arms around his neck and kissed him the whole way to his bedroom, but not without a few stumbles. Either way, they were so quite literally wrapped up in each other that the imperfections didn't matter.
Like she could ever come with imperfections... Spencer thought as he set her down, immediately bringing his hands to the back of her dress.
Meanwhile she unbuttoned his shirt, fumbling around so much that he thought she might choose to rip it open, and selfishly he wished she would have. But she got it open without tearing any buttons, and the fabric slid easily off his shoulders at the same time her dress slid off her own.
He was going to kiss her again, but once he caught a glimpse of what she'd been hiding under her dress, there was nothing he could physically do but rake his eyes over her figure and pray for forgiveness for all the devilish things he wanted to do to her.
It was a white set, all lace that was detailed to look like feathers as it hugged every curve of her body perfectly. She wore a set of garters that attached to the panties, which he was pretty sure were crotch-less and outlined in a pretty gold shimmer.
"I knew you'd like it," Y/N drawled sweetly. The pure innocence that dripped from her tongue would have thoroughly wrecked him had her appearance already not taken care of that. And she seemed to understand how immobile he'd become at the sight of her, because she moved of her own accord, gliding over to him and reaching her hand out to undo his belt. "I'm gonna take your silence as a good sign..."
"You're stunning," he breathed, just barely, and she gave him a smile through softly biting her bottom lip.
"You're too good to me..." Her hands pushed down his loosened slacks and waited until they fell to the floor. And then she hooked her fingers under the waistband of his underwear and leaned into his neck. "And I think your kindness deserves a reward..."
Her lips gently pressed to his neck before she dropped to her knees once again, and as she descended, her hands and his underwear did the same, leaving him completely bare and open for her to do whatever she wanted. No matter how badly he longed to throw her on the bed and get to showing her just how much she'd inhabited his every fiber of being, he didn't dare stop her as her tongue darted out and licked a featherlight line along the length of his hard cock.
He let out a sigh and twitched at her touch, a feat that must have pleased her, because she smiled and hummed happily as she repeated her action. Only, this time her tongue was more firm on him— not teasing anymore, but it brought him to damnation all the same.
And then she fully wrapped her lips around the head of his cock, slowly gliding herself down until he hit the back of her throat.
The sound he made was inhuman.
She wasted no time then, bobbing her head at a steady rhythm and moaning around him as she did so. It didn't take long for saliva to start gathering above her chin and dripping down onto the exposed area of her breasts, just above her bra. Occasionally she would hold him at the back of her throat and choke as she looked up at him with tears in her eyes, and the sight of his little angel happily crying with his dick in her mouth sent Spencer into a tailspin.
But as tempting as it was to paint the back of her throat white, he knew he'd prefer to take that action to a more interesting place. So he pulled away from her and breathed out, "Please, not yet..."
He looked down at her as she smiled, wetness coating her skin in the form of tears on cheeks and saliva on breasts. Her hands rested at the tops of her thighs, even as she stood up and blinked a final stream of tears down her left cheek. "Why, is there somewhere else you'd rather fill me up?"
"Please," was all he said, his breathing labored as he imagined what she would feel like.
Thankfully she seemed to take mercy on him— Y/N grabbed his hand and pulled him to the bed, where she laid him down at the headboard and straddled his thighs. "As much as I love spreading my legs for you, I think I'd much rather take a ride..."
"Anything you want," he told her, his eyes traveling up the length of her body as she got comfortable. She was, in fact, wearing crotch-less panties, and the feeling that coursed through him at the sight of her glistening pussy in decent lighting (AKA when he wasn't under her skirt in a storage closet) sent him straight to Hell all over again.
He sighed out as she played with herself, gliding her fingers delicately along the planes of her body, from her thighs to her clit, and eventually she gripped his dick to line it up, lifting her hips above him.
"Are you ready?" she asked gently, rolling her hips to slick him up with her arousal.
"Always ready for you, angel..."
The pet name sprung her into action. She sunk down slowly onto him, and he willed his eyes to stay open so he could watch as her mouth dropped open, eyes rolling back into her head as she moaned out deliciously. He let out a groan himself, the feeling of her tightly wrapping around him like velvet almost too much to handle.
"Ohhh, you fill me up so good," Y/N sighed, gently grinding her hips in slow circles as she finally had all of him inside her. "Just like I knew you would..."
Everything she was doing, between the gradual increase of the speed at which her hips rolled and the way she looked down at him with pure desire, had Spencer wondering what he'd ever done without her. What had he known before knowing the feeling of her nails gently digging into the skin of his stomach as she rode him, before knowing the sound of his name falling from her lips in a whisper? It couldn't have been anything good, because as far as he was concerned, she was as good as it would ever get.
But at some point it felt like he needed to take more. She was giving him her body, offering it to him like the most precious gift she had to offer, and yet he wanted to tear into it and leave nothing behind except her voice, calling out his name into the heavens above. He longed to give her something in return, something that would leave her just as ruined as she'd left him.
And, as always, she could tell.
Y/N laughed seductively as she leaned down, her hips still rocking into his. Her lips pressed a gentle kiss to his before she spoke. "Everything alright, baby?"
All he could do was let out a broken moan as she clenched around him on every upstroke.
"Aww... You want more? Huh, you wanna lay me down and give it to me good? Show your little angel what it feels like to be fucked so good she can't even speak?"
"Don't... tempt me," he was finally able to choke out, and she laughed.
"Aww, come on... Show me what you got..."
Spencer wasn't sure when he actually did it, but one second she was nipping at his bottom lip, challenging him to take control, and the next he was on top of her, her legs spread as wide as they could possibly get as he rocked his hips into her at a deep, bruising force.
She laughed amusedly through whimpers of pleasure, her hands spreading out at her sides like wings as he gave her everything he had. Looking down at her, head thrown back and hair fanned around her head like some sort of angelic crown, he soaked it all in and wondered if this was what Heaven was— the feeling of her succumbing to his lust, the sight of her lost in the throes of weeks of pent-up sexual tension that never entirely got released, the sound of her near-incoherently whining at how good he was...
If it wasn't Heaven, it was surely something pretty damn close.
He was almost there, tension stretching out inside the pit of his stomach, when Y/N grabbed one of his hands and brought it to her lower belly. He felt himself slamming into her at full force every time, the small bump against his hand bringing him further along the road of release.
"You feel that?" she whined, keeping his hand there. "You know what that means, don't you?"
It could have meant a lot of things, but his brain was too far gone, lost in in the fog of pleasure to even begin to think about what it was. But then she answered for him, and it was just about the hottest thing he'd ever heard come from her mouth.
"It means I'm all yours... to do whatever you want with... to fill me up with your cum as much as you want... maybe turn your little angel into a mommy..."
With a loud, guttural groan, Spencer held himself still, deep inside her, and gave her every last drop, his hand remained pressed firmly to her stomach. If he concentrated hard enough, he could almost feel his cum spilling out and filling her to the brim through the barrier. She pulsed and came around him at the same time, warmth spreading between the two of them like a drop of water would soak through fabric, until it completely enveloped them like a heavy blanket.
And then they'd given everything, their bodies clinging to each other for dear life as they settled into the gentle aftermath of such a heavy feeling of ardor. Their breaths slowed and their lips explored each other tenderly, hands doing the same until, finally, they felt themselves drifting off.
***
Spencer dreamt of Heaven that night, glimpses of a future he'd always longed for with other people, but that he would get to spend with her.
A wedding dress, white, but haloed by a gold fog as the woman wearing it glided along the aisle and made her way to him.
A house, small, but fenced in and just perfect enough for the two of them and the baby that was on the way.
A picnic table, damp, but drying out in the sun as it gradually became littered with plates of birthday cake and a little candle that was shaped into the number 3.
A woman, old, but beaming as she showed a photo album to her multitudes of grandchildren, telling them stories about the wonderful life she lived with her husband who always called her Angel.
And when he woke up, seeing that old woman as she was now, sleeping in his bed as the sun beamed through the curtains and basked her in a heavenly light, he knew what Heaven really was.
It was her.
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shemarmooresfedora · 3 years
Text
Sugary Sweet Apologies
Summary: You and Reid never really got along but when he saves your life, you decide to be the bigger person and thank him and hopefully start over. Unfortunately, it isn’t that easy.
Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader
Content/Warnings: light to mild angst with fluffy ending, swearing, spencer reid being an annoying bitch, brief mentions of case stuff (if you watch cm, you should be fine)
A/N: this is for @willowrose99 ‘s 1 year anniversary on tumblr writing challenge!! congrats! i literally wrote and edited this whole thing in less than one day because i got so excited, anyways i hope you enjoy!
Word Count: 1.8k
“Reid and Y/L/N, go to David Whitney’s house. He was the therapist of two of the three victims. He could have some insight into the victimology and know of any overlap between them. He has no criminal record of past aggressive behavior but we can’t rule him out as a suspect entirely,” Hotch stated.
“Hotch, you stuck me with her yesterday for the geographical profiling. Send Prentiss with her instead,” Spencer whined.
“I don’t mind going with Y/L/N. She is a great partner in the field,” Emily glared at Spencer.
“No. Reid, go with Y/L/N or be taken off this case. I’m a unit chief, not an elementary school teacher. I don’t have time for temper tantrums,” Hotch chided.
“Fine,” Spencer grumbled as you grabbed the keys to an SUV.
You don’t know what it was but ever since you started at the BAU four months ago, Spencer had never liked you which resulted in you disliking him as well. Everyone else on the team was super friendly and welcoming but Reid always was jabbing snarky remarks your way like “I don’t have time to explain it to you” or “This was in the FBI handbook. God, you need more training.”
Luckily, the others were quick to defend you. Once Garcia even heard him snip at you over the phone and as soon as you all got off the elevator after the case, Reid was being dragged by his ear into Garcia’s lair with him going “ow ow ow” behind her. So, you didn’t really pay much mind to him because you could deal with one annoying know-it-all to have such an amazing job with great coworkers minus the one.
“Look, I’m not happy about this either,” you said as you climbed into the driver’s side of the SUV, “But at least I’m not being a whiny bitch about it and being rude to the other person’s face.”
“Oh wow, I’m so sorry that I hurt your feelings,” Spencer mocked.
“Fuck you, Reid,” you shook your head.
-
David Whitney was on edge the second you arrived and showed him your badges. He was bouncing his leg up and down, he couldn’t sit still, and he kept avoiding eye contact.
He knew way too much about the other victim that wasn’t even one of his clients but you didn’t have anything solid on him. His house seemed very neat so you doubted he kept anything incriminating here. Organized offenders usually have a secondary location. So, you decided to push his buttons a little.
“I mean blitz attacks, leaving the bodies on the side of dirt roads,” you combed through the crime scene photos, “This guy was a real coward.”
Spencer picked up on what you were trying to do and his eyes widened, he was subtly shaking his head and mouthing “no”.
“Excuse me?” David asked.
“Well, I’m just saying a real man wouldn’t cower in the bushes and blindside a woman. He must not be very strong,” you stated, “He probably can’t even get it up.”
Before you even had time to react, David pulled out a switchblade knife from inside the couch cushions and put you in a chokehold, pressing the cool metal up to your throat. You closed your eyes tightly.
“David, you don’t have to do this,” Spencer stood with his gun pointed at you both.
“This bitch insulted me,” he snarled.
“She insults me too. That doesn’t make you any less of a man,” Spencer spoke carefully, “Just put the knife down and I’ll escort you out.”
David sighed, dropping the knife to the floor and releasing you.
Spencer put David in handcuffs and walked him outside as reinforcements came running in.
“Are you okay, Y/L/N?” Hotch asked.
“Yep, a little shaken up but fine. Thank you,” you stood.
“Let’s get you to the medics,” Morgan grabbed your arm to support you as you walked over to the ambulance.
Spencer never checked on you.
-
You knew your decision in the field was a little rash and you wanted to thank Spencer for essentially saving your life.
However, there was no way in hell you could verbally get out an apology while staring at his smug face, but you could bake. You settled on a note tucked inside a tupperware container of your Grandma’s special recipe of chocolate chip cookies. It was a good peace offering, maybe even a chance to start fresh.
During your lunch break, you took the tupperware from your desk drawer and approached the break room where Reid had entered about 5 minutes ago.
“I’m just saying I could not have been more clear in my message to her that it was too dangerous but of course, Y/L/N didn’t listen cause Y/L/N is going to do whatever she feels like,” Spencer stirred his coffee.
No one had noticed you standing in the doorway yet.
“Reid, you’ve got to be nicer to her. She earned her spot here just like the rest of us,” Emily defended you.
“Did she though? How much do we really know about her? She couldn’t even tell me how many pages the FBI protocol manual was,” Spencer said.
“That’s not a normal thing people know,” Morgan retorted.
“Well, I’m just saying the team was perfectly fine before her and it would probably be better off if she left,” Reid finished.
Garcia looked up from her yogurt to see you standing there, “Oh, Y/N”.
Spencer turned around in his chair as you angrily stormed up to him.
“Here’s your cookies, asshole,” you seethed, grabbing the note from inside and crumpling it up into a little ball and tossing it into the trash.
“Y/N!” Emily called after you but you were already gone.
The whole team glared at Spencer and picked up their lunches, leaving him alone at the table.
Spencer retrieved the balled up paper from the trash, having to fish through Rossi’s week old pasta and Anderson’s half eaten tuna fish sandwich.
Dear Reid,
Thank you for saving my life, I guess. These are my Grandma’s secret recipe for chocolate chip cookies so I hope you enjoy. I think we got off on the wrong foot and I would like to start over. I think cases would be a lot less miserable for everyone if we got along.
Thanks again,
Y/L/N
Spencer, you’re such an idiot, he thought to himself.
You never came back after your lunch break ended and Derek made Spencer go tell Hotch why it’s his fault you were missing the rest of the day.
He tried to call you multiple times but they always rang out before going to voicemail.
Spencer hesitantly knocked on Penelope’s door at the end of the day.
“Is she okay?” he asked softly.
“You don’t get to ask that as the person who hurt her in the first place. Also, she told me to tell you that don’t you dare go to her apartment to ‘check on her’. I’m headed over there myself actually,” Penelope collected her things and shut off her monitors.
“Will you at least tell her I’m really sorry?” Spencer followed her to the elevator.
“Absolutely not. I’m not doing any apologizing on your behalf,” Penelope huffed as the elevators shut.
-
You came in the next morning, keeping your head down. You grabbed a pen from your cup holder and the first folder on your stack before getting to work.
You were on the second page of the file when your clean, empty tupperware was placed in front of you plus another baking dish with aluminum foil over the top.
You glanced up to see Spencer guiltily looking down at you and you returned your eyes back to the file.
“I-I made you cinnamon rolls,” Spencer broke the silence.
“Are they poisoned?” you asked, not sparing him another glance.
“No, they’re not poisoned,” he assured you.
“I’m just saying how can I trust you as you have made it very apparent you would like me off this team.”
“I didn’t mean that,” Spencer was quick to reply.
“Then why the hell did you say it, Reid?” you slammed your pen down.
You grabbed your empty coffee mug and briskly walked to the break room but unfortunately, Spencer was right behind you.
“I didn’t eat any of your cookies by the way. Not that I didn’t want to but I felt like I didn’t deserve them so I handed them out to everyone else.”
“Oh how kind, taking credit for my work,” you tried to close the door in his face.
“I told them that they were from you,” Spencer insisted.
You rolled your eyes as Spencer grabbed the coffee pot before you could get to it, pouring your mug of coffee for you.
“What do you want from me, Reid?” you asked defeatedly.
“I want you to try a cinnamon roll and let me explain.”
“Fine but only because I didn’t have breakfast yet and I want to critique your baking skills,” you huffed, walking back to your desk.
Spencer gingerly placed one of the sticky frosting-coated rolls on a napkin and pushed it towards you. You tentatively bit into it. Damn it, it was actually delicious.
“It’s okay,” you understated.
You knew Spencer hardly ever used his kitchen let alone be up baking all night. He even chose a recipe that required more time and effort because the yeast dough would have to rise for a few hours.
“That’s good. The first batch didn’t come out as great...or the second,” he smiled softly.
“Well, the floor is all yours, Reid. Please explain to me why you talk shit about me to my co-workers when I’m in the other room,” you leaned back in your chair and crossed your arms.
Spencer muttered something incoherent.
“I have to hear the apology, you know,” you said, enjoying watching him uncomfortable.
“You’re intimidating to me because you’re intelligent, beautiful, and courageous. I think I was a little jealous that my spotlight as the ‘kid’ of the BAU was coming to an end so I said some harsh, completely untrue things and I’m sincerely sorry.”
“Oh my god,” you smirked, “Hotch was right, you are an elementary school kid.”
“In what way?” he curiously asked.
“You like me like like like me. You don’t know how to talk to the girl so you pull her pigtails on the playground,” you giggled.
“I take it back. You’re a horrible profiler,” Spencer was getting up from his seat, completely flustered.
“Awww,” you were laughing at Spencer’s bright red face as he went to go to the break room to fill his coffee mug.
When he got back to his desk, a sticky note was placed front and center.
In typical elementary school fashion…
Will you go get coffee with me?
Check:
Yes
or
No
Spencer smiled before picking up his pen and checking one of the boxes, crumpling the sticky note up into a ball and throwing it over to your desk.
“Good choice. See you Saturday at 9 at the cafe down the street,” you grinned.
“It’s a date,” he smiled.
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It's A Love Story, Baby
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Summary: Secret relationships can be fun, but sometimes the love runs so deep that it’s just begging to get the spotlight. Love like that is difficult, but it’s the realest thing Spencer and Y/N have ever felt.
Pairing: Spencer Reid X GN Reader (this is my first time writing GN, so if anything seems to be gendered, PLEASE tell me)
Content Warning: Brief innuendo (like barely PG-13) but it's there if you think about it. Kissing...
I’m so so dumb. I forgot about the shower scene when I was writing the content warnings. I wrote 2 versions. So ugh. There’s a shower scene but it’s intimate and romantic rather than sexual.
Author’s Note: I don’t particularly like writing from a second person point of view, but please let me know what you think. I’m still learning & appreciate feedback.
Also..... this is my fic for @willowrose99 anniversary! so congrats!!
Word Count: 2.6
It's a Love Story, Baby
It was in the quiet moments in the early morning that always remind you of how much you love Spencer Reid. The morning light seemed to make him look even more beautiful than anyone could possibly be. You always marvel at how young he looks while he sleeps. His face isn’t contorted into a perplexed frown and his mind is at ease. You love every iteration of Spencer, but sleeping Spencer has to be your favorite.
It’s impossible, you know that, but still. You’ll tell yourself all these lies and will yourself to believe that it’s a Saturday. Any excuse to stay tangled in between the sheets with your chest pressed up to Spencer’s back and your arms hugging around his waist.
Reality, however, seems to have it out for the pair of you. The blaring alarm wakes you from your clandestine fairytale. It’s a signal that calls you and Spencer back to Earth. Even though it happens every morning, the crash from Paradise stings.
Spencer, his brown hair tousled and messy, groans as he puts his pillow over his head. You twist your body to turn off the alarm. For whatever reason, Spencer insisted that you use an old fashioned alarm clock; the kind that’s jarring and ridiculously loud.
“Y/N,” Spencer mumbles, his voice groggy and low. If you weren’t pressed for time, you’re sure that considering the way your name sounds from Spencer’s lips, you’d be spending more time in bed and less time sleeping.
“Spencer,” You tease back, dragging your hands under his pajama top. Spencer Reid has a lot of quirks, like the alarm clock, but the one you find most endearing is his affinity for matching pajama sets.
“Just stay a little longer, please. I can’t stand when you leave,” Spencer says, turning his head to look at you. You lay there in his bed, tempted to give into him. Tempted to stay in this little paradise that you carved out for yourselves.
“You know I’d love that more than anything,” You say, trying not to get swept up in the starry way Spencer gazes up at you, “but you promised me a picnic, Romeo and I want a picnic with my favorite person,”
“You brush your fingers across his face, committing him to memory for the days to come. Those sleepless nights where the only thing you want is to be in Spencer’s arms. Those dark moments on a case where you need to touch him, to touch something that’s so pure and good and kind. Those silent stares can only keep you at bay for so long.
He simply closes his eyes and swallows his words. Silently, he places a kiss on your forehead. It’s a light peck, but those are the ones that seem to be just dripping with love. But instead of his kiss leaving needing more, all you feel is guilt. Spencer doesn’t deserve to be loved in the shadows, but there you were kissing him with the guise of secrecy.
But maybe today was going to change that. Maybe you’ll be able to kiss Spencer in public and hold his hand. Or even stroke his hair as his head rests in your lap while he reads to you. All those normal couple activities were always just a grasp and a leap away. But the menacing foe of the FBI relationship rules proved to be a looming enemy.
“I’m going to shower,” Spencer says. His voice trails off, like he expects you to finish his sentence for him.
“Care if I join?” You ask, hoping that it’s what he wants too. His devilish grin is enough for you to stretch your back and scamper on into the bathroom with Spencer at your heels.
He likes undressing you more than any other man you’ve been with. He takes his time unbuttoning your pajama top. His fingers, though they look like they’d be rough and coarse, are soft and slip down to your hip bone, just grazing the skin. Spencer lets his fingers press a little harder, urging you to spin around so your back is up against his chest. He places wet kisses along the exposed skin of your shoulders; he’s more adventurous this morning. Spencer’s kisses are usually sweet, almost chaste. Usually the opposite of how his hands rank over your body or how his eyes look at you when you smile and writhe from his touch.
“I love when you steal my clothes, Y/N,” He says, his voice still a little husky and you don’t think it’s from the lack of sleep.
You close your eyes, as if eliminating one of your senses would heighten to ones that Spencer is letting on fire. Suddenly, his touch is gone and you feel a lot colder. He turns the water on in the shower and you take the opportunity to pay attention to him. He, much your disdain, dodges your kisses by getting under the warm water.
Spencer, gesturing for you to join him, lets his hands hover over your hips and up your arms. There’s isn’t a spot on your body that he hasn’t touched. Every piece of your being is open to Spencer’s love, but only in the quiet privacy of your apartments.
It’s hard to think about that, as he holds you in his arms. The warm water mixes with the way his chest presses up your back.
“What smell do you want?,” He asks, referring to the many bottles of shampoos, conditioners, and body washes. The citrus scents are yours while Spencer prefers this ridiculously expensive coconut and cinnonmen shampoo.
“Hmm, Meyer Lemon,” You day and Spencer grabs the shampoo and matching conditioner from the shower rack.
He squirts some shampoo on his hands and lathers it up before massaging it into your scalp. Spencer, if the BAU doesn’t pan out, should go into professional hair care. He’s got these long fingers that reach across the expanse of your scalp and come down to place pressure on your temples. You lay your head back, leaning against Spencer’s upper chest. You still marvel at how your head fits perfectly in the crook of his neck. It’s hard to feel bad for forcing him to love in private when his hands are all over your body, silently spilling his affections and feelings with every stroke against your back and every tender graze against your shoulder.
“Lean back to rinse,” He says quietly. Faithfully, you lean back and rinse your hair. Spencer’s fingers come to undo the knot and snags, his gentleness is indiscernible from his love.
Finally clean, you turn around to face Spencer. The water slaps against your back, it’s hot and stings but you don’t care. Spencer, so used to having to swallow his affection, tends to go a little overboard when he gets the chance to touch you and kiss you as you and him please. It’s like he’s making up for all the times when he wants to kiss you in the middle of the bullpen, but Emily's door is left open and she can hear everything from a mile away.
“Your turn, my dear,” you say, taking the opportunity to kiss Spencer's collarbones, up his neck, and over his jaw line. It’s a little absurd how pretty he is and totally unfair.
Spencer, not wanting to sacrifice a chance to kiss you, places needy kisses all over your face, except your lips. His goofy kisses send you into a fit of laughter. He seems so free like this, so unafraid to love.
Spencer turns around and crouches slightly, giving you full access to his hair. You lather up his shampoo and mirroring his actions, you massage the shampoo into his scalp. Early into your relationship, you found out that Spencer loves showers. It’s not surprising, he’s the cleanest person you know. But Spencer loves showering with you. There’s nothing sexual about it, even though the way his fingers dance around your naked body leave you wanting more. Showering with Spencer lets loose all those bottled up emotions from the cases. Your clandestine showering meetings are an intimate exercise where you remind each other that you're alive, you’re still breathing and still hanging on.
Maybe it could be like this all the time, only if you’re brave enough to say “yes”
You stand back as Spencer washes off the final suds that collected on his back. He shuts off the water and climbs out of the shower. You follow, but reach for two towels. Spencer wraps his towel around his waist and squeezes the water out of his hair into the bathtub. Drying yourself off, you sit on the bathroom counter and rub lotion on your legs.
The quiet moments of domesticity almost make you believe that this is your life with Spencer. It seems so real that at times you let yourself wonder what it’s like to love Spencer in public.
As it turns out, your little bliss is short-lived when a loud knock disrupts your quiet morning.
You shoot Spencer a terrified look; both of you can recognize that knock anywhere. Luke Alvez is here, and unfortunately you are too, but naked in your co-work/secret lover’s bathroom.
“Spencer! What the hell is he doing here?” You say, your voice raising with your fear of being caught.
“I don’t know Y/N. He was telling me the other day that he wants to take me out to you know,” Spencer says, letting his voice trail off.
“To what, Spencer?” You ask, growing annoyed at Luke’s unexpected arrival.
“To get me laid,” Spencer mumbles under his breath. His hands come up to hide his blush at the uncomfortable conversation that he remembers word for word with Luke.
“What? God. Did you tell him that, that um covered?” You say, hoping that Spencer would catch your meaning, but he shakes his head.
“Oh my God, Spencer. You need to go out there and fix this. Okay, I’m going to look for clothes,” You tell him, throwing a sweatshirt and a pair of boxers at him.
He puts on the boxers before opening the bathroom door. Luke’s loud knocking gets more insistent and Spencer manages to get his sweatshirt on before he swings the door open.
“Took you long enough,” Luke says, standing in the doorway.
“Yeah. Some of us like to sleep on days off. You should try it sometime,” Spencer responds, getting ready to shut the door in Luke’s face and return to Y/N in the bathroom.
“You’re hiding something, Reid,” Luke says, strong-arming his way into Spencer’s apartment.
“I have no clue what you're talking about, Luke. Everything is fine, I’m fine,” Spencer says. You listen from the bathroom with the door slightly ajar.
“You said you were sleeping?” Luke asks, and you internally cringe at what you know is to come.
“Yeah. Work has been exhausting and this is our only time to catch up on sleep. Actually, I was reading this study—”
“Reid. Don’t change the subject. Your hair is wet. And you’re wearing a sweatshirt to a college that you didn’t go to,” Luke surmises. Shit, you think. Luke Alvez, through all his brawn and muscle, is the most perceptive profiler, especially when it comes to Spencer.
“I just washed my hair and —” Spencer starts, but is silenced by Luke’s hand.
“If I remember correctly, Y/N went to Auburn,”
You can’t hear what Spencer says, but you only imagine him out there in his boxers in your college sweatshirt standing awkwardly in front of Luke Alvez. He picks at the embroidered scarlet “A” that’s sewn into the sweatshirt.
“You’re still holding out on that happening, aren’t you?” Luke asks.
“Um, I guess,” Spencer says, “you know I really do love Y/N. It’s not like it’s just a work crush or anything. Y/N is it for me. Even if I’m not it for Y/N,” Spencer says, and for some reason you think that his words aren’t for Luke.
“Come on dude, just let me get you laid. I know you’re hung up on Y/N but it seems like that is sailed. Spence, Y/N is seeing someone and it’s really serious. Penelope was telling me that Y/N mentioned something to her about this guy. I’m sorry, Spencer. But I don’t think that’s going to work out,” Luke says calmly.
“Oh yeah," Spencer says, trying to mask his smile at being Y/N's mystery man that Penelope gossips about, "but, really, uh. Luke, I’m not looking to uh get. I’m not in business of, uh?— ”
Unable to take it any longer, you swing open the bathroom door...
“I think what Spencer is trying to say, Luke is that uh, he, well really we got it covered,” You say, unable to watch the way that Spencer is utterly crumbling under Luke’s stare.
You pop out from the bathroom dressed in Spencer’s robe. Luke looks from Spencer to you and back to Spencer. You can see the cogs in his brain turning, trying to figure out if his friends are playing an elaborate practical joke that’s years in the making or if their longing stares and hidden smiles were evidence of something more.
“Y/N the guy you’re seeing is Spencer?” Luke asks, not fully believing his eyes.
“Yes, uh. You know we just wanted to keep things secret for a little bit because of Emily and the rules,” You answer, hoping he'd understand why you and Spencer were a secret.
“Huh, damn,” Luke says, still shocked that he missed all those obvious signs.
“Yes and I’d appreciate it if you stop insisting that Spencer get laid. I can assure you that that is taken care of. Thoroughly,” You say, sitting down next to Spencer on the couch.
“Oh my God, Y/N,” Spencer says, appalled that his partner is giving his friend very innocent details about his quite active sex life.
“What, Spence. I’ve decided that the team should know you're a genius in more ways than one. Besides, the cat has been let out the bag,” You reason, liking the way Spencer’s blush returns to the top of his nose and down his cheeks.
“I’ve heard enough, um. But don’t be surprised when your uh extracurricular activities are interrupted by Penny,” Luke says before dashing out the door, already getting Penelope on speed dial.
Spencer, still sitting on the edge of the couch, turns to face you. His face is contorted, like he’s trying, but struggling to read the emotions of the room.
“You’re okay, Y/N. With everyone knowing?” Spencer asks, his voice full of trepidation. He sounds so scared, like he feels guilty for you wanting to keep your relationship a secret.
“Spencer, look at me please,” You say, scooting a little closer on the couch so your knees touch. He refused to make eye contact with you, until you place your fingertips under his chin, directing his attention at you.
“I’m so sorry, I’m so so sorry. I messed this up, I --” Spencer went on. His lips could hardly keep up with how fast his brain seems to work.
“Spence, hon. Please relax. I’m not upset. We’ll make it out of this mess. This love might be difficult, sweetheart, but it’s the realest thing I’ve ever felt,” You tell him. Your fingers haven’t left his chin, but you do move them down towards the back of his neck.
“The best love stories were never easy,” Spencer says, enjoying the way your nimble fingers tangle themselves in his hair, tugging his head closer to yours.
You close the gap, and even though you’ve done this countless times, Spencer can still make your heart skip a beat or two.
“You still owe me a picnic, Romeo,"
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Thank you for reading! I hope that you enjoyed this and again happy one year to will!
I appreciate and love every single reblog, comment and like ❤️❤️
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sinfulspencer · 3 years
Text
Another love.
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Prompt: Spencer can’t let go of the past. Y/N can’t pretend this isn’t hurting her anymore. Based on the song “Another love” by Tom Odell for #willsannievent.
Warnings: Major angst, break up, sad!Spencer, mentions of death, mentions of depression, mentions of self-hate.
Words: 5.2k
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*DO NOT READ THIS IF YOU HAVEN’T WATCHED SEASON 8 OF CRIMINAL MINDS! THERE IS A MAJOR SPOILER IN THIS STORY.*
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 And I wanna kiss you, make you feel alright I’m just so tired to share my nights I wanna cry and I wanna love But all my tears have been used up On another love, another love
And if somebody hurts you, I wanna fight But my hand’s been broken, one too many times So I’ll use my voice, I’ll be so fucking rude Words they always win, but I know I’ll lose
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It’s been said that you really only fall in love with three people in your lifetime, but it’s also believed that you need each of these loves for a different reason but they are all equally as important as the other because they shape you, they turn you into the person you’ll be for the rest of your life.
Spencer doesn’t agree with that.
There’s the first love, a love that looks right, a love usually called “Fairytale love”.
This is the love you watch on movie screens, in TV shows, in bedtime stories where the prince and the princess have their “happily ever after” ending. It’s the love you wish you had, a love that you assume it’s easy to find. It’s the starry-eyed love that happens when you’re young, probably in High School when you’re surrounded by all of these people and finally one of them catches your attention.
It’s a love that doesn’t feel quite right but you get into it because you think it’s the most important thing in the world at the moment. It’s a love you jump right in because you want to know how love feels, because you’re overwhelmed by emotions and feelings and everything that comes with them. It’s probably a love that appeals to what you should be doing in the eyes of society, of your family, that you accept just because you think it’s okay to do it. But you know it’s not the love you want.
Spencer remembers when he experienced his first love. It happened in High School, when he met this beautiful girl with the cutest smile he has ever seen and the sweetest voice he could ever hear. He thought she was the one for him, because she was the only one that talked to him without making fun of him – or so he thought, because he ended up completely naked and tied to a chair in front of everyone at school. It was something unexpected, something that hurt him, something that pushed him to believe love wasn’t and was never going to be for him.
The second love, also called the “Hard love”, is the kind of love that hurts.
It’s the love that brings you to your breaking point over and over and eventually pushes you on your knees, sobbing and wondering where it all went wrong,  or if it was ever right.
It’s a love that suffocates you, a love that destroys your heart in ways you’ve never expected love to do. With this kind of love, you think about fixing it without reflecting on whether you should. It’s a love that, through all the pain and the trauma, teaches you a lesson about who you are as a person, but mostly teaches you what you should look for in a relationship and what you don’t want in your life.
But it’s an emotional roller coaster made of extreme highs and lows, and like a drug addict trying to get a fix, you stick through the loops of this love with the low expectation and hope for one single high. It’s a love that you wished was right and when it doesn’t work out, you feel defeated but you know it was for the best.
Spencer clearly remembers this kind of love, when he had the chance to be with a person but then other obstacles came up, ruining everything. He fell in love with a woman through the phone, a woman he has never seen before and a woman who kind-of betrayed him, a woman that lied to him, a woman that sent shivers down his spine when she called him. A woman that stole his heart and crushed it onto the ground when she did right in front of his eyes, after he wasn’t able to tell he loved her to the moon and back.
This love was traumatic, it was difficult but he couldn’t fix it even if he tried. But when he tried, he ruined everything and she ended up in a pool of her own blood in front of his eyes. It’s a love that drilled a hole in his heart, a love that suffocated him because it never blossomed the way he desperately wanted to. But, despite everything people said about the second love, “the hard love”, Spencer knew it would’ve worked out if obstacles didn’t come up. If Maeve allowed him to help her through everything, if Maeve would’ve just told him the truth.
Then there’s the third love, the “love that lasts”.
It’s a love you never see coming, a love that usually looks all wrong for us and that destroys every lingering ideals you clung to about what love is supposed to be.
It’s the love that comes so easy it doesn’t feel possible because it’s a connection that cannot be explained and knocks you off your feet because you never planned for it. It’s a love Spencer doesn’t believe in, a love he doesn’t think would come for him because his mind is still focused on a love that should’ve been, a love that should’ve happened for him.
It’s a love that sweeps you off your feet, sure; this is the only thing that happened to him, when he met her for the first time. But it’s all because of her bubbly personality, the sweetest smile he has ever seen after that girl in High School, the cutest pair of eyes that he settled his own on. Spencer still gives it a go with her, hoping that maybe she will be his new fix and helps him forget the love he so dearly wanted before.
But Y/N is nothing like Maeve.
She’s smart, she’s beautiful, she’s sweet, she’s kind. There’s nothing wrong with Y/N because she’s an amazing person with an even better personality. She’s herself. But she’s not Maeve.
Spencer had told Y/N about Maeve.
One night he was so overwhelmed with the memories and upset because it was Maeve’s anniversary. Y/N found him on his couch, wrapped in his favourite blanket, and asked what was wrong with him – and he broke down completely, telling her everything that happened to his ex lover. He cried, he almost pushed Y/N away but she was so understanding, so gentle with him and didn’t make him uncomfortable. He felt like shit for pretending to love her when his heart belonged to someone else, to the woman he was crying about, but he couldn’t bring himself to tell Y/N the truth. He hoped she would’ve seen it in his eyes because she’s a profiler and she should be able to read people’s body language, but she couldn’t. Or she wouldn’t.
Maybe Y/N didn’t want to admit the truth to herself, maybe she was naive, maybe Spencer was being her hard love and she simply can’t pull away from him because she’s doing everything in her power to keep him by her side even though she knows he’s not right for her – just like Maeve was his second love, even though she ended up also being his third and everlasting one. Spencer feels like she is.
Even though she died years before, and she left a hole in his heart, he can’t move on.
Y/N is just... someone to Spencer, nothing more than that.
And he hates this because she doesn’t deserve to be treated like this, she doesn’t deserve to be with someone who doesn’t love her the way she should be loved because Y/N is just so amazing, she’s so perfect in every single way. She doesn’t deserve to be with someone who sees her just as “someone” there for him and not as the person they’re in love with, but Spencer is tired of pretending he wants her.
Spencer is stuck in the past, a past that is slowly breaking him in little pieces Y/N can’t put together – or so he thinks. He doesn’t want her to put him back together, he wants to be left alone but he doesn’t want Y/N any longer. He doesn’t want to make her feel like he’s feeling, he doesn’t want her to go through what he’s going through with his ideal love with Maeve.
“Hi love! Happy anniversary!”
Y/N’s angelic voice captures his attention, forcing the young doctor to turn around and watch her as she makes her way inside of his apartment. He forgot she was coming over, he forgot today is their first anniversary and he even forgot to buy her something – but why would he buy her a flower if he doesn’t want to be with her? If he can’t be with her?
“Hi.”
Y/N takes off her denim jacket, leaving it on the chair next to the entrance. “I’m sorry I’m late, there was traffic and I think a car accident not too far from here. But I stopped at Dunkin’ Donuts to buy you these!”
Spencer shrugs, lowering his eyes as he crosses his arms to his chest. “It’s okay.”
She holds out a box filled with chocolate doughnuts covered with sprinkles, his favourites. “They were the last three and they’re all yours.”
He wants to smile. He really wants to because she’s doing all of this to make him happy, to show him how much she loves him but he can’t bring himself to lift the angles of his lips. It’s too much, it’s suffocating and he can’t take this anymore. He can’t pretend this is okay, he can’t pretend to love her any longer. It makes his heart hurt.
“Thank you.”
Y/N walks towards him after placing the doughnuts on the table in front of his TV and grabs both his hands, leaning forward to give him a kiss on the lips but he pulls away before she can do it. He also winces at her touch, as if she just burned him with her hands. She takes a step back, suddenly an icy cold wave of air washes over her.
“Is everything okay? Did I do something wrong?”
Spencer runs his fingers through his hair, stepping away from her and shaking his head with his eyes low on the floor. His heart hurts from doing what he’s about to and all he wants to do is to kiss her, to make her feel alright because she doesn’t deserve any of this. Y/N didn’t do anything wrong. She’s just the most perfect human being that has ever graced this Earth, the most amazing person he found after all these years that he just can’t love – even though he knows he should, because she’s made for him and has made him feel like he could be loved again.
Spencer wants to cry, the frustration hitting him hard on the chest and almost leaving him breathless. There are so many reasons why he shouldn’t break up with her and there’s only one reason that wants him to do so: she’s not Maeve. Spencer is so haunted by the shadow of his second love, of the love that should have been, that he’s blind to everything else.
When he kissed Y/N, he clearly remembers he felt something – which is why they started dating not too long after. Spencer wants to love Y/N so bad because she proved to him that he’s able to feel something after what he’s been through, because she proved to him his heart is still made of love and blood, and not stone cold ice. But he can’t, he just can’t.
Hurting her is the last thing he wants to do. He wants to punch himself in the face for thinking about breaking up with her, therefore breaking her heart and upsetting her, but he can’t keep on pretending. He’s still hung up on another love.
Another love that has captured his heart.
Another love that shattered his heart.
Another love that should have been.
So he’ll use his voice, he’ll be so fucking rude so at least she’ll have a reason to hate him for good.
“I can’t keep doing this to you, Y/N.”
She stares at him, her eyes wandering around the room until they settle on the book on his couch. And her heart drops because she knows what’s coming, she knows what this is all about and there’s nothing she can do to stop her tears from falling. That book, The narrative of John Smith, haunted her for months but she thought she didn’t have to worry about it. She thought it was nice to have a memory of a love that existed, but maybe she shouldn’t have.
“Say it.”
Spencer can’t bring himself to look at her because he knows what he’s going to see. He knows how her voice changes when she’s sad, when she’s getting her heart broken because it cracks. Her voice drops lower than usual, just like right now, and he hates it. He hates how it sounds right now, because it’s all his fault.
He should’ve been honest with her, he shouldn’t have jumped into a relationship he wasn’t ready for – or maybe he was ready, but he changed his mind when he realised how deep and strong her love for him ran. It’s probably stronger than what Maeve felt for him, deeper than he thought he’d deserve. It’s a real love, a love she thought was everlasting also on his part but she was wrong. So fucking wrong, it almost pains Spencer to think about.
“Say it, Spencer.”
When his eyes settle on her face, his heart gets ripped out of his chest.
Y/N is staring at him with a coldness he has never witnessed before, she’s patiently waiting for him to break her heart in the worst way. But her body is screaming a whole different story because her hands are shaking, she’s not breathing right and she’s holding back. And suddenly his voice is gone, his words get stuck in his throat and a voice in his head yells at him to keep his mouth shut, to stay quiet because this is all wrong. This shouldn’t happen, he can’t let this happen.
“You want to break up with me, don’t you?”
Spencer breaks the eye contact with a frustrated sigh, massaging his temples with the tip of his fingers. This is all so confusing, this is all so terrifying for him and she knows it – which is why she’s waiting, hoping that those words won’t come out of his mouth but she knows very well they will, eventually. And she’s not ready to hear them, she’s not ready to get her heart broken in the blink of an eye.
Y/N doesn’t move, her eyes following his every move. “You can’t even look at me in the face. Am I that unimportant?”
She wants to punch him, she wants to pull his hair, she wants to scream at him, she wants to cry, she wants to throw all of those doughnuts on his face and rip all the pages from his new books, but she can’t do it unless he says something. And he has to, or she’ll hold on to that little flicker of hope still lingering in the air.
“Am I so insignificant?”
Spencer shakes his head, nervously tapping his fingers on his thigh. “You’re not insignificant.”
Y/N looks up, brushing the back of her right hand over her cheek. “Come on, then. Be a decent human being and tell me the truth, I don’t have all day.”
“I can’t love you.”
She scoffs, grabbing her jacket from the chair.
Anger is running through her veins and she knows she should hold back, but how can you blame her? He’s dumping her on the day of their anniversary, after pretending to love her for a whole year without feeling bad for it, without realising how dangerous, how painful, how sickening this is.
““It’s not you, it’s me”, right? “I can’t love you because I still love my ex girlfriend even though you’ve proven to me I can be loved and I deserve to be loved. I can’t love you because I don’t want to move on from my past, even though I told you I’m okay and I want to be with you.” Is that what you want to say but you can’t bring yourself to?”
He snaps his head towards her, his heart dropping in his chest. “Y/N...”
She lifts both her hands, looking at him with pure coldness and anger. “Don’t you dare play the victim now because it’s pointless. It took you a whole year to figure out you don’t want to be with me, do you understand how miserable that makes me feel? A whole fucking year. And before that, eight months. We’ve dated for eight long months before you asked me to officially be your girlfriend. Eight months! And in all this time you’ve never... You...”
Spencer knows she’s breaking down and holding back something she knows she can’t say out loud, but he can’t deny that she’s right in everything she’s spilling out. He had twenty months to figure this out, twenty months that led her to fall deeper in love with him and he just didn’t care because he thought he could be with her.
He thought she could make him happy and she does! He has never felt this happy before in his life, she gave him a purpose in life and she kept him going, she has made him the happiest man alive from all the attentions, the kisses, the late night conversations, the gifts, the silences, the cuddles, the incredible and strong love he was waiting and knew he could receiving by her and only her.
What has changed now? What made him realise he doesn’t feel anything for her?
But he feels something for her.
Pity, because she fell for a man that can never be hers.
She fell for a man that is still haunted by the ghosts of the past, by the shadow of a love that should have been, a love that keeps crushing his heart even though Y/N tried to keep alive with her own heart, her own love, her affection, her own connection with him.
Spencer looks at her, tears in his eyes and pain in his heart as Y/N stares at him in horror. Her eyes are wide open, her lips are slightly parted and her cheeks are stained with tears, her mascara running down as her heart feels heavier than ever before. The realisation of what he’s not saying lingers in the air, choking her; ripping her heart out of her chest and driving a stake through it, making it bleed.
“You’ve never loved me.”
Spencer shakes his head frantically. “No! No, I do. I love you, I really do.”
Y/N sniffles, turning her head away for a second.
She doesn’t believe him at all but she chooses to, not caring if this is a lie or not.
his is too much for her and right now all she cares about, well all she wanted to do that day, was celebrating their love with him, by kissing him, by watching a movie, by cooking something.
“You don’t love me, there’s no need to lie. – mutters the young woman, trying to keep her posture and not break down again – Your ex girlfriend is dead, Spencer. She’s gone, she won’t come back to you. She loves you from afar but she’s not here and I am! I’m giving you everything and it’s not enough for you because I’ll never be her! I will never be Maeve, Spencer. I’m me, I’m Y/N Y/S/N.”
He knows Maeve will never come back. He knows she’s gone and he’s okay with it. Sometimes he misses her, but he has Y/N.
Why does it have to be so confusing?
Why can’t he simply think about the woman right in front of him, crying because he’s killing her?
“You have two choices: the first, which is to love me for who I am, or the second, to leave me for a ghost And I think you’ve made your choice pretty clear, Spencer. – says Y/N, putting her jacket back on – I will never lose a fight with a sanctified ghost.”
He stares at her, brushing the back of his hand over his cheek. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. You’ve been nothing but amazing to me. You gave me time, you gave me space, you gave me everything you could and I’m just hurting you. I wish this could be different, I wish....”
She holds out a hand, stopping him before he could say something else. “Don’t say things you know are not true. You love her, I can’t compete with your everlasting love. I can’t even if I tried. And I tried so hard to make this work, because you deserve to be happy.”
“But you deserve someone better than me.”
Y/N bites her bottom lip, taking a step back before he could come closer. “Maeve would’ve wanted you to be happy, not wasting your time mooning over her ghost. I’m being harsh and I hate it, but I can’t just pretend this is not hurting me because it is. It’s killing me and I don’t know what I did to deserve this.”
Spencer sighs loudly, placing a hand over his heart. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Y/N. You’ve been amazing.”
“Yeah, that’s what hurts the most. I’ve done everything for you and what have I got in return?”
He finishes the sentence for her. “Lies.”
There’s a pause after that.
He wasn’t lying when he told her he liked her after that dinner in her own car after a case he finished working on.
He wasn’t lying when he kissed her on the lips for the first time and whispered he wanted to be with her.
He wasn’t lying when he told her that everything was better since he met her.
He wasn’t lying when he promised her they would find a little cottage somewhere and spend their holidays there, with no one around but themselves.
“The only lie I told you was that I loved you.”
Spencer wants to smack himself in the face after saying those words.
He just admitted he never loved her in the first place, something he denied a few seconds before, and he can literally see Y/N’s heart break even more. Why is he doing this to her? Why couldn’t he keep his mouth shut today? He’s ruining everything.
Y/N scoffs again, a bitter laugh leaving her lips. “Just a pretty little lie. Nothing major, right?”
He frowns at her words, the sarcasm burning in her throat, but he completely understands why she’s angry. She has every right to be angry at him, he deserves to be yelled at because he’s being almost selfish.
“You shouldn’t have started dating me if you weren’t emotionally over her, Spencer. You can either wallow in your memories of her or live a life with me. You said you dealt with her loss years ago, that you went to a therapist and you worked through your grief but this... – says Y/N, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear – This proves nothing helped you, this proves I didn’t help you enough and I can’t do it if you lie to me, but I also can’t be your saviour. I’ve listened to you, I’ve comforted you during her anniversary five months ago and you never had the decency to tell me the truth once, in 365 days of our relationship. And you don’t even love me.”
Spencer wants to tell her that one day he will, eventually he will fall in love with her but now he can’t because all of the tears, all of his hopes and dreams are wasted on another love. Y/N won’t understand this now because she feels betrayed, because she has got her heart broken today and it’s all his fault.
“You said you were ready for a relationship but she’s still the centre of your thoughts. And I should be that person, I should be the one you want to love. – adds Y/N, closing the jacket on her chest – You should get therapy to understand your inability to grieve and move on with your life, because Maeve wouldn’t have wanted you to do all of this. She wouldn’t have wanted you to throw a whole year of relationship because of her. You always talk about her like some kind of angel and I’m pretty sure she was an amazing person, but she’s not here now. I am.”
Spencer wants to throw up, the intensity of the moment is almost too much for him but he has to stay. He can’t run away and break Y/N’s heart even more, especially now that she’s about to walk away from him – and probably his life for a very long time. He doesn’t know how she’s going to act at work, if she’s going to be able to face him every single day of her life until she or he quits. He doesn’t know anything.
“You treated me so well. I guess I can say you’re an amazing actor. – spits Y/N, venom filling her voice – If you had to quit your job, you could go straight to Hollywood.”
Spencer takes a deep breath, finally speaking up and knowing he’s about to destroy everything even more. “You’re not being a good girlfriend. You’ve never been one.”
She falls silent, her mouth agape and her eyes wide open.
“You’ve been selfish, always needing my attention when you could see I couldn’t be with you. – his voice sounds so cold, so distant, so aggressive yet so calm – You’ve never asked me how I felt about a new relationship after what happened to Maeve, you’ve never asked me why I couldn’t date for all those years after her death.”
But Y/N can’t keep her mouth shut, a tug on her heart forces her to speak up because this is not right. If he wants to break up with her, so be it, but he has no right to say these things – especially if they’re all lies to make him feel better, to make him sleep at night after committing the worst mistake of his life.
“I did, Spencer, I fucking did! You were the one that told me not to ask you questions, you were the one that told me you were ready for a new relationship with me because I was able to help you and understand you! You were the one that told me you couldn’t date anyone because you were terrified of losing them, and look at us now! Look at what you’re doing, Spencer! You’re losing me and you don’t give a fuck! – exclaims Y/N, kicking her bag on the floor – Don’t you fucking dare blame me for your inability to commit a relationship that we both seem to have wanted at the beginning. Don’t you fucking dare blame my paranoia and my insecurities, when I’ve been nothing but understanding with the whole Maeve situation. I didn’t know her like you knew her, but I knew her through your words and I’ve never wanted to take her place! Never.”
Spencer backs away now, seeing Y/N’s whole body shake with anger. If a look could kill, he would’ve been dead before she even set her eyes on his face. But who can blame her? He’s trying to get out of this situation, to break up with her for good because he can’t keep lying to her and forcing her to be with him.
“You are scared of people leaving you because of everything you’ve been through and I get it, Spencer. Jason left you, Derek left you, your father left you and Maeve died. I promised you I would never leave you because I’m truly, madly, deeply in love with you but remember that you are the reason why I am leaving now. – Y/N points his finger to his chest, pushing his body backwards – I offered you to ask a friend of mine to get you into her program, I asked you to talk to me if you felt the need to ease the weight off your chest but you’ve never said a single thing, besides promising me you were in love with me.”
“I lied! Okay? Yes, I fucking lied to you, Y/N! I lied about loving you and I lied about being over Maeve, is that what you wanted to hear? Is that what you wanted me to say? – he screams, his vein prominently popping on his neck as Y/N takes a step back – I want to break up with you because I don’t love you! I never did!”
These words won over her and Spencer feels like a part of himself has just died along with the last flicker of hope in her eyes.
Y/N simply looks at him, her eyes trying to understand if this is a nightmare or the truth of life as she holds back a sob.
Spencer wants to run to her and hug her so tightly he’ll consume her, he wants to throw himself off a window because he just ruined the most perfect woman he could ever meet.
He allowed his mind to play tricks on him, he let the memory of a ghost haunt him to the point he ruined his own relationship – a relationship that was actually helping him.
Y/N grabs her bag from the floor and walks to the door of his apartment, sniffling. She wants to turn around but she knows Spencer won’t look at her. This was the last straw for her because he spat in her face that he never loved her.
What hurts the most is that he didn’t even try, he didn’t even..
“Y/N, I...”
She opens the door with her shaky hands and takes a deep breath, turning around to look at him only to find him holding that book. There’s nothing else to say, there’s nothing else to do for her so she lets out a huge sigh, smiles at him and walks out of his apartment.
When the door closes with a loud slam, Spencer throws the book on the floor in anger.
He lost the only person who meant something for him.
    “Miss me a little but not too long, And not with your head bowed low. Remember the love that we once shared, Miss me but let go.” Christina Georgina Rossetti
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Taglist: @s1utformgg, @getyoutmoon @bookishspencer, @allexthakatt, @calm-and-doctor, @reidswhoree @nazifa94 @srhxpci @eevee0722 @reichelhache @aperrywilliams @escapingrealities @willowrose99​
 Let me know if you want to get added to my taglist. x 
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WILL'S ONE YEAR ANNIVERSARY EVENT
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WILL'S ONE YEAR ANNIVERSARY EVENT
Tumblr keeps screwing up this post, so I'm going to keep this brief, but thank you to everyone who has ever followed my blog, made this page what it is, enjoyed my fics, wanted more, encouraged me, become a friend, understood when I need breaks and been there for me when I'm going through rough times. Thanks for reading my 57 fics, for dealing with my indecisive moments, my constant changing of fandoms and times where I don't talk to anyone. I love you all, and I love this blog and how it's kept me sane.
Underneath the cut, I've created two little events to celebrate this milestone. You can participate if you wish, absolutely no pressure! One's a writing challenge for my fellow fic writers, and one's a request activity. Take a peek if you want, I would love you too.
Will x
WRITING CHALLENGE
The rules:
Choose up to 1 trope and or song prompt, as well as 2 action and or dialogue prompts from the lists below! They will be listed below the REQUESTS section!
Select your character/ ship that you'll be writing for! Can be from Stranger Things, Criminal Minds, Marvel, and or Criminal Minds. Trust me, there are no limits as to who you could pick, write for whoever you want! Just make sure it's ya know, legal!
Submit an ask or DM with the ship/ character you've selected, the relationship (platonic, romantic, family) and the prompts you would like, and I'll be sure to put you on this post! PLEASE DO SO OFF ANON, so I know who to assign to what prompt!
There can be up to 3 writers per prompt, and 3 writers per trope!
There is NO DEADLINE, I do ask though that you use the #willsannievent
Please tag with the appropriate warnings, and make sure that you're tagging NSFW pieces with the right tag!
And most importantly, have fun!
SEND A REQUEST TO WILL
This is your chance to send any request you want to me, within reason of course! Please make sure if you're wanting something NSFW you're over 18 and preferably off anon, so I can confirm age! You can choose from the prompts below, choose up to 1 trope and or song prompt, as well as 2 action and or dialogue prompts from the lists below! Please be mindful that these will take some time to get through, and I'm about to enter essay season. Please be kind, please be patient, and please recognise that I have the right to reject requests BUT you'll always have the chance to submit a new one! And please, have fun! I want to write something you'll enjoy, so truly pick prompts you love. DEADLINE FOR REQUESTS IS THE 31ST OF MAY! You can request for: CRIMINAL MINDS: Spencer Reid, Aaron Hotchner, Derek Morgan, Emily Prentiss, Hotchreid, Moreid, Jemily THE X-FILES: Fox Mulder x Dana Scully MARVEL: Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson, Steve Rodgers, Natasha Romanoff, Wanda Maximoff STRANGER THINGS: Jonathan Byers, Steve Harrington, Stonathan, Stoncy
THE PROMPTS
Tropes:
Share the bed
Enemies to Lovers
Mutual Pining
Bookstore AU
Rescue Mission
Can't sleep
Long Lost Friend
Caring for the injured
Secret Relationship
Truth or Dare
Action Prompts:
Lazy morning/evening kisses
Sudden needy passionate kisses
Stealing clothes
Making the other food or drinks
Tucking someone into bed
Protecting them from danger
Bandaging wounds
Holding hands
Reading to each other
Napping together
Dialogue Prompts:
"Everything is better since I met you"
"I never liked vacations until I met you"
"Please don't leave me"
"I missed you"
"How can I trust you?"
"And I thought you were just a pretty face"
"I'm not leaving without you"
"You know, I kinda like it when you call me -pet name-"
"I can't wait any longer, I need you to be mine"
"God damn it, you're beautiful and sexy and...and you make me go insane"
Song Prompts:
Share Your Address- Ben Platt
Another Love- Tom Odell
Let My Love Open The Door- Pete Townshend
Nothing Matters When We're Dancing- The Magnetic Fields
Scar- Missy Higgins
It Gets Better- Rex Orange County
Golden- Harry Styles
Only Angel- Harry Styles
Paper Rings- Taylor Swift
Love Story- Taylor Swift
PLEASE BE SURE TO READ THE RULES AND SEND YOUR REQUESTS, WRITING CHALLENGE ENTRY TO MY ASK BOX OR DMS! TAGGING SOME MUTUALS AND THOSE WHO MIGHT LIKE TO CELEBRATE WITH ME! @spacedikut @reidemandweep @reidingmelodies @reidsconverse @mercy-burning @samuel-de-champagne-problems @spencereidsupremacy @morceid @morcias @anaagraceeberr @katytheinspiredworkaholic @sadspencer @honeyharreh @ellesgreenaway @voidsfilm @scandinavian-punk @luvofyourlifeliv @lumoshotch @ssahotchswifemain @wheelsup @drreidsboyband @reidgifs @homoose @bvttercupbby @masterwords @dralexreid @laurnrnlds @reidyoulikeabook @spencersawkward @spencers-renaissance @rigatonireid @alltooreid @b-a-utiful @makaylajadewrites @pusheen1802 @reidsnose @altsvu @writing-in-april @tobias-hankel @hotchsbabygirl @lunalovecroft @anxiousblanketqueen
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masterwords · 3 years
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See Into the Dark (PART THREE - FINAL)
Warnings: Vomit, pain, wounds, suicidal thoughts, canon-typical Criminal Minds stuff.
Notes: This is for @willowrose99's one year anniversary! If you want to read more of the writing for their celebration, follow the tag below yo. I had other things planned but they weren't coming together the way I wanted and it was incredibly frustrating SO I scrapped it in favor of just winding it up with some sweet fluff. I mean, it takes a little pain to get there, but it's mostly just bittersweet to sweet. I just wanted a little soft romance. (Cut it early because mention of vomit right off the bat.) ~4000 barely edited words
Previously On: PART ONE, PART TWO
The dreams coursed through him in between bouts of fierce clarity. Dave was snoring beside him, draped partially over the bed, head resting beside his knee. He'd placed his hand on Aaron's leg, and there it stayed, a fixed point grounding him to the bed, to the room, to something real. 3:16am ticked slowly by, the second hand echoing through the quiet room. He was able to keep his eyes open long enough to see the clock, he could see the clock, that was something. It was short lived, the burning started and everything went out of focus when his eyes began to water so he closed them and wiped at the salty wet that stung the open sores on his lids, biting into his lip to keep from making a sound, disturbing Dave. Shallow breaths kept the caustic feeling in his lungs at bay. He didn't much care that the doctors told him he had to take deep breaths, had to breathe normally through the pain so he didn't end up with pneumonia. He drifted back to sleep to the deafening sound of the second hand and wondered if it was 3:17 yet, he'd lost count of the ticks.
5:28am brought with it a wave of nausea so powerful that he sat bolt upright, muscles in painful spasm, shoulders pulled in tight. He yanked his hand out from beneath Dave's sleeping weight and clawed at his cramping stomach, trying to hold down everything threatening to make its way out. When that inevitably failed, he leaned over the side of the bed desperately, away from Dave and watched through tears as he was violently sick all over the floor and the machines. His IV pulled loose from the back of his un-splinted hand and he wouldn't have noticed save for the blood dripping between his fingers, splashing on the floor. His eyes were open, but he saw only colors, blurred lines and bright colors as he heaved and he felt bodies rushing around him, people shouting orders, pushing him upright and shoving a bucket beneath his face, a hand at the back of his head – Rossi's hand, his warm fingers on the back of his neck, soothing him. The cramps were too violent, he couldn't breathe, squeezed his eyes shut as his throat constricted and he choked on the spasms in his burning esophagus. He could hear Dave whispering in his ear, telling him he was okay, he was going to be okay. That didn't make any difference to him, hearing that, but he smelled disinfectants and he heard machines moving and felt them pulling at the tubes taped to his arm in a futile attempt to fix his IV without having to stick him again. He sat, frozen, hoping that if he didn't move, his muscles would cease their attack and for a few blissful moments it worked. Leaning back in the bed, he felt himself relax, shoulders sinking into the thin pillow, Dave's warm hand still against the flushed skin of his neck, he closed his eyes and tried to take a deep breath. It caught once or twice on a stabbing pain in his sternum but he finally got it, filled his lungs. The hospital staff buzzed around him, Dave leaned close and whispered something to him, his ears rang and the blood rushed to his head and again he was heaving into his bucket.
It was 6:43am before his stomach ceased its assault, the room cleared and Dave made a beeline for the coffee machine in the lobby with shaking hands and a desperate need to be anyone else, anywhere else, just for a moment.
He was released a few hours later, into Dave's care. They assured him it was just withdrawals, he would be sick off and on but there wasn't anything more they could do for him in the hospital that couldn't be done at home. Dave doubted that and yet he found himself on the road with Aaron curled up on the passenger seat, clutching a bucket to his chest and praying to God that vomit didn't get on his just detailed interior.
“I'm taking him home,” Jessica said, hands on her hips as she stood in Dave's kitchen, a steaming mug of coffee untouched on the counter beside her. She was in no mood for hospitality. Dave paused, his spatula hovering over the pan of scrambled eggs, and leveled his gaze at her. She was serious, that much he could see plainly, but he studied her posture, the way she didn't hesitate or look worried and he sighed.
“You don't understand what happened to him,” Dave appealed to her, giving the eggs a toss. “It's not safe.”
“Don't hand me that load of crap, Dave,” she replied, shaking her head. She had fire in her eyes. “You're just as clueless as anyone else about what happened, he's not talking. He's better off in his own bed, where he wants to be.”
He opened his mouth to speak, to reply, but she narrowed her eyes and he stopped dead in his tracks. It was clear to him that he wasn't going to be winning any battle of wills. She held out her phone, showed him the barrage of desperate, pleading texts from Aaron over the last few days begging her to come and get him. It made Dave sick to think Aaron was so scared and so miserable that he hadn't even mentioned to him that he wanted to leave, just laid in that bed sick, not eating, not moving. He didn't want to argue with Jessica, he had no intention of holding Aaron against his will, he wasn't running a prison, but he could see she needed to vent some frustration so he let her continue without trying to interject.
“You know what? You all have this idea that you're some kind of family but as soon as you get a case, you'll dump him on me anyway and I'll be left fumbling around, trying to pick up the pieces. It's just easier if we get it over with now.”
“Jessica, you know that isn't fair,” he said softly, sliding the eggs into a bowl and setting it on the counter. “We can only do so much.”
“I know, and that's why I'm here to relieve you of that burden,” she replied with a finality that told him this was over, she couldn't be moved. “You've done what you could, and I'll take it from here. I've already taken time off from work and made sure Jack has somewhere to stay for the foreseeable future, so please just point me to his room and we'll get out of your hair.”
That afternoon, while Dave recounted the story of Jessica's visit to Spencer, the younger man said he wasn't surprised at her attitude toward them. “She's right, you know,” he said finally, turning his eyes to the sleeping form of Derek on his couch. “We've let him down in more ways than I can count, and it has affected her more than it has any of us. It'll be okay. If he's lucid enough to be texting her then I would guess we are well beyond any real danger.”
“Right. How's Derek?”
“He's fine, great actually. He hasn't had any cognitive issues in the last 24 hours. He's lined up for his return to duty fitness exam for later today, if he passes I thought maybe I'd take him to see Hotch. That's the last hurdle. I think he believes me when I say Hotch is alive but he needs proof.”
“A picture is proof,” Dave grumbled and Spencer nodded, stepping into another room, away from Derek's earshot.
“With all due respect, Rossi, he couldn't trust his own eyes a few days ago, he carried a serial killer to safety, helped him escape, that's a lot to live with. He's going to need more than just a picture on my phone as proof.”
When Dave hung up the phone, he was overcome with the odd feeling of having become entirely obsolete.
“Aaron?” Jessica asked, peering into his darkened room. He was lying in the center of his bed, eyes closed, but she knew he was awake. “May I join you?” She stood in the doorway and waited to hear his voice, a soft response letting her know he was there with her. It was almost so quiet she missed it, but he made a soft humming noise and scooted toward the side of the bed, just enough to make a spot for her beside him. They both knew she was coming in anyway, with or without his permission, but it made it easier this way. With two mugs of tea in her hands, she shuffled in and set them on the nightstand, slipping into the bed beside him until they were touching. She watched as he mindlessly played with the frayed bits of gauze beneath the fresh black cast on his arm, the way his fingers danced along the edges, memorizing everything by touch. He hadn't opened his eyes more than a few minutes at a time in days, and they were assured that would get better but he didn't seem ready and she wasn't going to push him. All his life he'd been pushed to heal faster than anyone should, be okay, be ready for action and she thought maybe this one time, she could be the one who just encouraged him to take his time, to be right where he was.
“Is it time?” he asked, lips barely moving as he spoke. She nodded, as if he could see it, but he knew, felt the soft movement of the mattress.
“I thought I'd stick around after, though,” she said softly, and watched as he shifted with slow, painful grunts until he was lying with his head on her lap. There were ointments and eye drops, and he struggled not to fight the stinging and burning while she pried his eyes open with her fingertips like a child with pink eye. Her face was a blur, golden curls obscuring his vision, and he thought if he never saw anything again after he could do a lot worse. His eyes remained open while she changed the rest of his bandages, and when the timer went off he shut his eyes again, knowing he wouldn't have to open them again for at least another hour. She always told him he didn't need to shut them when the timer went off, he could keep them open as long as he wanted, and he nodded his understanding but closed them anyway.
“You up for some company?” she asked, and he shrugged as he settled himself against her side now, head buried in the pillow. She spoke to him in hushed tones, told him about what Jack was up to with his cousins, said she saw there was going to be a Shakespeare festival nearby next month that she thought he and Derek could go to, mentioned that Roy was keeping busy with his sister and they were both driving each other insane. He was listening, she could tell he was, and her fingers danced through his hair, rubbing circles and zigzags, triangles and swirls.
“Do you remember when Sean was in that band in junior high?” she asked, and he nodded, a little ghost of a smile dancing on his lips. He knew what she was going to say before she even said it. “They were doing that battle of the bands, and you dragged Haley and I out so there were more people there to see them and their music was so god-awful and I swear all they did was scream swear words and bash their instruments.”
“He was only thirteen,” Aaron whispered. “He had no idea how to play the guitar, he just wanted to impress girls.”
“Fail on all accounts,” she announced. “I talked to Sean today, he reminded me of that. Guess the guy who drummed for them just showed up in Manhattan begging him for a job, brought back memories.”
“Let me guess,” he muttered, and she let out a soft chuckle, using her nails to scratch lightly at his scalp as she sat. “He's got a new dishwasher. He'll never learn.”
“He's got a bleeding heart,” she replied with a shrug. “Always has.”
The conversation lulled after that, but it was the most responsive he'd been in days so she took it as a win. Later that day, she was hoping to get a call from Spencer letting her know that Derek was cleared to return to work and then he could see Aaron and she was sure that was going to make him feel better. Something had happened in that house, something awful between them, and she didn't understand it but she and Spencer just hoped that seeing each other now would be enough to fix it. She knew, in some way, it was overly simplistic and naive but she had to have something to look forward to otherwise she'd be lost in the hopelessness that seemed to radiate off of him. She'd had him speak to Jack twice since he'd been home, but it was mostly listening, he didn't say much of anything. There was something missing that she hoped Derek could give him, some sense of peace that he wasn't a monster, he wasn't broken and he didn't need to be afraid of himself because she was worried about what he might do if left alone. She had barely left his side, except to make food or throw in some laundry, but even still she found herself refusing to shut his door, constantly poking her head into his room, once or twice even pressing her fingers to his wrist to feel for a pulse. It may have been a silly teenage fear rearing its ugly head, something she'd never shaken in all those years, and yet it felt so tangible, so easy to slide back into. She was no profiler but she knew him inside and out and he scared her.
“He passed,” Spencer spoke quietly into his phone, and Jessica nodded, glancing down at Aaron's sleeping form beside her, fingers still playing mindlessly through his hair. “Can I bring him by?”
There was a moment that she considered saying no, a lump formed in her throat. She was in over her head here, thought maybe she should call Dave, apologize for being so rude but she swallowed her fear and nodded her head.
“Yeah, bring him over...” she said softly, and she just hoped that Spencer knew what he was doing because she had no clue. “We're in the bedroom, he has a key.” Spencer chewed on that last tidbit for just a moment before glancing over at Derek, wondering how long he hadn't known. It wasn't that it was shocking that someone would keep secrets, it just seemed so unlikely that it would be those two.
The sight of Aaron in his bed, curled up sleeping beside Jessica made Derek feel sick to his stomach. He could see the way she was looking at him, the cast on his arm, the bruises and cuts and bandages that somehow mirrored his own and he wanted to drop to his knees right there. He knew, something flashed through his mind, a moment in the house when he thought he'd been fighting Scratch.
“Did I do that?” he turned and asked Spencer, eyes pleading desperately.
“Some of it,” Spencer replied, not sugar coating a single syllable. “Some of it happened before we got there.”
“I can't do this.”
“It's all you've wanted for the last week, Morgan,” Spencer hissed, hardly able to believe that suddenly he was the one taking charge of the entire situation.
“If I did that to him...”
“Who is that?” Spencer asked, pointing his finger at Jessica.
“Jessica,” Derek said, rolling his eyes. “Reid, I know...”
“And that?”
“Aaron.”
“You're fine. You know who they both are, you know who I am. Nothing is going to happen.” He might have been bluffing, over confident but he was also simply done. “Achilles never got a second chance with Patroclus. Be grateful you do.”
Derek wasn't sure what to make of that last sentence, but he didn't have time to contemplate it. Jessica and Spencer both left the room, closing the door nearly all the way behind them, leaving it open only a crack. The sliver of light that pooled there around the door was the only light in the room and he stood still until his eyes adjusted before making his way to the bed and sitting down in the warm spot Jessica had just vacated. He felt Aaron move aside him, push in close almost instinctively and he closed his eyes, listening to the shallow, rhythmic breathing in the dark. It felt like hours before a word was uttered, maybe it was, he might have fallen asleep.
“Really you?” Aaron asked in a voice that almost broke Derek's heart. It was unsteady, confused, ghostly. His eyes didn't open and Derek couldn't see him but he nodded and pulled Aaron to him, into his arms and pressed him tight against his chest.
“It's me,” he rasped, barely keeping it together. Out of the corner of his eye he caught a glimpse of Spencer peeking in and vanishing quickly. He turned back, pressed his nose to the top of Aaron's head and breathed in his smell. “You need a shower.”
Aaron opened his eyes for the first time in nearly a week without being forced, trying to peer through the dark, taking a chance. He wasn't sure what he'd find, maybe that Derek would vanish from beneath him, that solid feeling anchoring him would be gone again and he'd be left alone wondering what was real. If this wasn't real, if this faded into nothing, there was nothing left. He couldn't see Jack, he couldn't be at work, he only had this bed and these blankets. Derek wanted to talk, wanted to ask him how he was, get him talking but he couldn't seem to find words that fit. That summed up the vastness of what he was feeling, the loneliness and the rage and the warmth and the desperation, it was too much, too conflicted, too much. In the darkness, he could see the way Aaron squinted, the way his eyes seemed unable to focus, Spencer had told him about the drugs and the damage they'd caused, the chemical burns on his lids and it hadn't really sunken in just how bad it would be. Then again, it never really did with him, Aaron was always just okay, he was always fine. He reached up, let his thumb rest against Aaron's cheekbone, drifting feather light under his eye and he smiled. Aaron could see it, blurry and otherworldly as it was, and he closed his eyes for a moment to relish in that sight burned there into the black.
“Your worst fear is me dying?” Aaron asked in a whisper thin voice. He was smiling now, bashful and sweet. “That's kind of pathetic.”
“Guess so,” Derek replied, shaking his head. “You didn't see the same thing. I can tell. What did you see?”
“I don't...” Aaron started, and he shifted painfully in the blankets, curling up against Derek, fighting against the sights that came flashing through. “Jack and Sean,” he said finally, carefully weaving his way through the story, letting go of the face of his father, the smell of the beer sprayed in his face. “And Haley.”
The blood pounded behind Derek's ears, how he hadn't guessed that would be the answer he wasn't sure. “I'm sorry,” he whispered, fingers tangling in Aaron's hair, pulling his head into his chest, pressing him firm against his heartbeat. “I'm so sorry.”
Spencer slept on the couch, refusing the leave Jessica alone with the two of them. He insisted that she could have the couch, but she made herself comfortable in Jack's bed, and she lay there awake listening to the two men talking in the room beside her. More than once she made her way to the bathroom or the kitchen, just for a chance to peek inside at them sleeping or talking, and more than once she caught Aaron's eyes open. She'd set her alarm for time to give him his medication, but instead of doing it, she showed Derek how and watched the way he was so careful and so gentle. In truth, Aaron could probably have done it himself but she wanted to be close to him, to have his warmth there in her hands, because then she knew he was okay. She'd begun to understand Haley's dilemma over the years, wanting so desperately for him to be okay and understanding that it would never really be so. The difference was she wasn't married to him, or tied to him, she stayed by choice and choice alone.
The next time the alarm went off for his medication, she poked her head into the room only briefly to see Aaron already laying with his head in Derek's lap, and Derek cautiously applying the eye drops and ointments, changing bandages that needed changing, kissing the fingers poking out from beneath the cast and she slipped back into the hallway knowing Aaron was in good hands.
“You know what I think?” Derek asked, waiting for Aaron to settle against him again, freshly bandaged and sleepy eyed. “I think you didn't see me because you're not afraid to lose me.”
Aaron didn't think that sounded right. He lived in fear of losing everyone he loved, paralyzing some days, of not being enough to save everyone. The timer was set, he had to keep his eyes open but he was so tired and the painkillers were so strong.
“Tells me that you know you won't,” Derek said with a finality that Aaron wasn't used to. People walked on egg shells around him, asked him questions rather than giving him reassurances.
“Am I right? Will I ever lose you?” he asked, listening to the timer go off, knowing he could close his eyes again if he wanted. For the first time, he didn't, he kept them open and watched Derek in the dim orange sunrise just barely breaking through the blinds.
“Never. I've been beside your dumb ass for almost half my life at this point, I think I might be stuck with you.”
It was enough reassurance, at least for the time being. It would get him through the next day or two, and then he'd see Jack again and things could slowly crawl back to some semblance of normal. He could fumble through fatherhood, clueless as ever, and not worry quite so much what he was capable of because he already knew that and it was terrifying but it didn't control him. He wasn't sure either of them would ever shake the feeling of that night, ever get past the way the hair on the back of their necks would stand up at the mention of Peter Lewis' name, knowing they might never catch him would eat at them but at least they had that brief moment of peace in that early morning sunrise.
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thelunarbar · 3 years
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The Book Train
For @willowrose99’s challenge.
Pairing: Aaron Hotchnerxreader(done in 3rd person)
Warnings: none?????
Notes: I might redo this at some point and flesh it out more, but it’s way longer than I meant for it to be. I might add more chapters or something. I’m not sure yet. Also no editing. We die like men. Sorry.
I chose the bookstore au, reading to each other and “and I thought you were just a pretty face.”
[~][~][~][~][~][~][~]
Grace Valley, Oregon didn’t know what to do with Jack and Aaron Hotchner. The backwoods was not made for city boys, for federal agents in sharp suits and their sons who wanted to follow in their footsteps.
Jack and Aaron Hotchner didn’t know what to with Grace Valley. For those that like small town life it was beautiful little place, hidden by a thick shroud of trees and boasting a population of one hundred and twenty-three. Aaron Hotchner was not made for the backwoods, for splitting wood and working a menial day job.
Suffice it to say they were the hot topic of the week when Marshall Burns left them in the care of Sheriff Goodall and his daughter Tryn. No one knew who they were or why they were there. But they did know that Carla Kline would find out. There wasn’t a secret in Grace Valley because Carla stuck her nose in everybody’s business.
Grace Valley often seemed to stand still. Frozen in its own little world. Aaron couldn’t stand it. The stillness, the quiet. Anxiety built a home in his chest, always ready for something that never came. They had been there two weeks before Aaron relaxed for the first time. And two months before he settled into life, routine, in the sleepy little town. But even so Grace Valley figured out what to do with Jack much faster than it did Aaron.
Jack fell in love with the little town quicker than Aaron anticipated. The school was small, but the children were excited by a new student and were absolutely thrilled with the tales he told of his superhero father. Aaron spent long hours at the small sheriffs department helping out with cases and trying futilely to fill the seemingly endless hours of small town life. Eventually, tired of Aaron’s constant presence, the Sheriff suggested he take up some hobbies until they found a suitable job.
A suitable job came three weeks later when the local mechanic declared his retirement. It wasn’t what he would have chosen under normal circumstance, but he liked the work and it kept occupied a good chunk of the time.
They had lived in Grace Valley a little over two months when Aaron ventured into The Book Train for the first time. It was small and a bit chaotic, but warm and smelled strongly of cinnamon and vanilla. It was a maze of shelves packed with books and more stacks on the floor. The kind place you can get lost in for hours.
The bell above the door chimed happily as Aaron stepped in out of the rain. Even the front desk was piled high with books. And it appeared the only piece of wall not hidden behind a bookcase was instead hiding behind a mirror. Aaron caught a glance of himself and almost didn’t recognize the man he saw. He had stopped shaving a few days previous and was sporting a decent beard and he had actually been sleeping better knowing there was no way Scratch would find them, meaning he no longer had bags under his eyes. His steadily greying hair was due for a haircut and he hadn’t worn a suit in two months. Jeans and polos(or the occasional t-shirt) still felt a bit odd, but he was adjusting. And on top of all that he hadn’t gone for a run since they’d moved and because of that had started to put on a little weight, particularly in his mid section. He wasn’t very agile to begin with so packing on a little weight wasn’t ideal, but he wasn’t unhealthy or unfit, simply falling into a knew era of life. He was nearing fifty. Getting old. And it was alright to both look and feel it.
He began looking through the books. There didn’t seem to be any organization so he shuffled them around trying to find something that piqued his interest. He was coming to realize he had no hobbies and with no job to speak of he really needed some. He’d been learning to ride on the Sheriff’s horse and had taken a few classes that the craft supply store hosted on week nights, but he thought reading would be a good time filler. He used to read a lot when he was in college and law school. Lots of books on law and history as well as a few novels. And briefly some poetry for Haley. He pulled a copy of Odd Thomas off the shelf and began reading the synopsis.
“Good choice. I love that one.” A soft, feminine voice said behind him. He jumped and elbowed a tower of books causing them to crash to the floor.
“Oh god. I’m sorry. Let me-” he put down the book he’d been holding and crouched to pick up the books. The woman crouched beside him and started collecting the books up as well.
“Happens all the time. Don’t worry about it.” He glanced up and took a second to take in her appearance. She was average height, a bit curvy, with soft smile. Her hair was pulled up into a knot on top of her head. She quickly arranged the books she was holding into a smaller pile before taking the ones Aaron had and placing them in their own stack beside the first one.
Once finished restacking the books they both stood up. She smiled and introduced herself.
“I’m (y/n).”
“Aaron.” She shook his hand.
“Our course you are. Everyone knows who you are. You’re all Carol talks about which means you’re all anyone talks about.” She said with a giggle, “your son, Jack, is a sweetheart by the way.” That took Aaron off guard.
“You’ve met Jack?”
“He comes in a few times a week with the other kids to borrow books. Where’d you think he was getting them?”
“I assumed from the school.” Aaron admitted a bit sheepishly. Y/N just smiled.
“He talks about you a lot. Calls you a superhero. He’s very proud of you.” Aaron’s cheeks felt warm and he was at a loss for words. She offered him a cup of coffee and showed him the small upstairs of The Book Train. Many more stacks of books and a old brown couch that had you practically sitting on the floor. A large window behind it showed the heavy spring rain threatening to drown the little town. They sat and chatted, losing track of time, waiting for the rain to let up.
[~][~][~][~][~][~][~][~]
They did it again the next week. And again the week after that. Once a week became thrice which turned into getting coffee elsewhere which in turn became dinner and before long Y/N was having dinner with the Hotchner boys(known as the Kerns in Grace Valley)on tri-weekly basis.
Since Beth Aaron had been afraid of becoming attached to people. Since Scratch even more so, but loving Y/N came so easy. And Jack loved her too. Whether they liked it or knew it she was a permanent fixture in their life. But they did like it. Very much.
“What did you bring tonight?” Aaron asked as he handed her a glass of wine before taking his seat beside her on the couch. She held up a well loved copy of The Girl Who Loved Tom Gordon.
“I thought we’d try something a little different.” She turned and rested her feet in Aaron’s lap, took a sip of her wine and then gently placed the glass on the coffee table before opening the book to the title page. This had become their routine. She would read and he would rub her feet and then he would read while she rubbed his shoulders. They devoured books by the dozens doing this. Falling deeper and deeper as they flipped through the pages of mysteries, romances, poetry, adventures, and biographies.
They took things slowly for Aaron’s sake. And she didn’t spend the night for first few months, but she visited frequently and they often did things with Jack as well as alone. And eventually when they’d long since finished both their book and their wine Aaron asked her to stay. They retired to the bedroom where Y/N noticed a thoroughly destroyed copy of Witness To A Trial by John Grisham on Aaron’s nightstand.
“I’ve never read John Grisham. I’ve heard good things though.” She said, picking the book up and flipping through it.
“He definitely knows his stuff. I’ve never seen courtrooms depicted well in media, but he at least does a decent job. I could pick at details and fall down rabbit holes, but I won’t bore you.”
“No tell me. It’s clearly something you know about and I’m intrigued.” He smiled, enough to show his dimples and began explaining the nuances of courtrooms and law and the ins and outs of being a prosecutor. You hung on his every word even when you didn’t understand.
“The use of private prosecutor was incorporated into the common law of Virginia, but it’s no longer permitted there. Private prosecutors were also used in North Carolina as late as 1975. Which is a whole other interesting story we won’t get into. Private prosecution has been used in Nigeria as well, but the practice is largely being phased out. Which is unfortunate, but no amount of argument can change the opinions of those who could change it so we all just vent about.”
“And here I was thinking you were just a pretty face.” Y/N teased. Aaron blushed just the slightest bit. “I’ve never found law so fascinating.” You pressed a gentle kiss to his lips and felt him smile. A familiar idea laps in Aaron’s mind. A month previous after confirmation of Scratch’s death Aaron told her about being in Witsec and being part of the FBI. And how she had unintentionally shown all the good things he could have if he stayed. Time with Jack. Time with her. A bit of peace and quiet.
“Can you believe it’s been almost two years since we met?” He asked.
“Crazy how time flies when you’re having fun.” She continued pressing chaste kisses to his lips and cheeks and neck.
“What would you say if I asked you to marry me?” He asked in a hushed tone.
“I would say yes in a heartbeat.” She pressed a lingering kiss to his lips, “I love you. And I love Jack.”
“I love you too.” He told her, “and y’know, what’s crazy to me is that you really can get used to anything if you have to. I hated it here when we first arrived, but you taught me to enjoy the stillness of Grace Falls and I don’t think I could ever go back now. Not that I would ever want to.”
Really what’s most amazing is far just a little happiness can go and how much it can change. Aaron knew now what do with Grace Valley. Jack deserved stability. And Aaron deserved happiness. And Grace Valley gave them both those things as well as so much more. Aaron found it funny how he occasionally thought that he was glad they’d gone into witsec. He was at peace, happily in love, spending quality time with his son and watching him grow up. Happiness is fleeting so Aaron would hold on with both hands as long as he could and remind himself daily just how lucky he truly was.
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WRITING CHALLENGE ENTRIES
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Hiya! If you already didn't know, I'm doing a writing challenge for my 1 year anniversary on tumblr because I thought it would be fun and something others might enjoy!
I've done a separate post about the anniversary but unfortunately, that post has become bugged and people are having trouble interacting with it! So, I thought I'd put the details for the writing challenge here on this post to make it clearer, with hopes that those who want to participate can. All the info and prompts will be under the cut!
I would love it if you wanted to participate, but if not, then that's all good. Thanks for sticking around on my blog though, really appreciate it and all the love throughout this last year.
Tagging some mutual that might be interested in participating, absolutely no pressure though! @lunalovecroft @spookydrreid @madswonders @anxiousblanketqueen @morcias @cacoetheswriting @mrs-steve-harrington @enigmaticxbee @spacedikut @reidemandweep @mercy-burning @alltooreid
ALSO! REQUESTS ARE OPEN for any of the prompts below for characters and ships such as:
Criminal Minds: Spencer, Hotch, Morgan, Emily, Morica, Moreid, Hotchreid, Mortch, Jemily! Stranger Things: Steve Harrington, Jonathan Byers, Stonathan! The X-Files: Fox Mulder x Dana Scully! Marvel: Bucky, Natasha, Steve, Sam, Wanda!
Will x
The Rules:
Choose up to 1 trope and or song prompt, as well as 2 action and or dialogue prompts from the lists below! They will be listed below the REQUESTS section!
Select your character/ ship that you'll be writing for! Can be from Stranger Things, Criminal Minds, Marvel, and or Criminal Minds. Trust me, there are no limits as to who you could pick, write for whoever you want! Just make sure it's ya know, legal!
Submit an ask or DM with the ship/ character you've selected, the relationship (platonic, romantic, family) and the prompts you would like, and I'll be sure to put you on this post! PLEASE DO SO OFF ANON, so I know who to assign to what prompt!
There can be up to 3 writers per prompt, and 3 writers per trope! Any prompt in blue is full!
There is NO DEADLINE, I do ask though that you use the #willsannievent
Please tag with the appropriate warnings, and make sure that you're tagging NSFW pieces with the right tag!
And most importantly, have fun!
The Prompts:
Tropes:
Share the bed (@peachpitfics Spencer, @reidingmelodies Spencer)
Enemies to Lovers (@alltooreid Spencer, @shemarmooresfedora Spencer)
Mutual Pining
Bookstore AU (@im-autistic-not-stupid Hotch)
Rescue Mission (@masterwords Mortch, @katytheinspiredworkaholic Hotchreid)
Can't sleep (@luvofyourlifeliv Spencer)
Long Lost Friend
Caring for the injured (@ssahotchswifemain Hotch)
Secret Relationship (@lumoshotch Emily, @samuel-de-champagne-problems Spencer)
Truth or Dare (@madswonders Spencer)
Action Prompts:
Lazy morning/evening kisses
Sudden needy passionate kisses (@ssahotchswifemain Hotch, @luvofyourlifeliv Spencer, @katytheinspiredworkaholic Hotchreid
Stealing clothes (@mercy-burning Spencer, @samuel-de-champagne-problems Spencer)
Making the other food or drinks (@shemarmooresfedora Spencer)
Tucking someone into bed
Protecting them from danger(@masterwords Mortch)
Bandaging wounds (@peachpitfics Spencer, @anxiousblanketqueen Derek, @masterwords Mortch)
Holding hands (@madswonders Spencer)
Reading to each other (@im-autistic-not-stupid Hotch)
Napping together
Dialogue Prompts:
"Everything is better since I met you"
"I never liked vacations until I met you" (@reidingmelodies Spencer)
"Please don't leave me" (@ssahotchswifemain Hotch)
"I missed you" (@luvofyourlifeliv Spencer)
"How can I trust you?" (@shemarmooresfedora Spencer)
"And I thought you were just a pretty face" (@peachpitfics Spencer, @im-autistic-not-stupid Hotch, @madswonders Spencer)
"I'm not leaving without you" (@lumoshotch Emily, @katytheinspiredworkaholic Hotchreid)
"You know, I kinda like it when you call me -pet name-" (@mercy-burning Spencer)
"I can't wait any longer, I need you to be mine"
"God damn it, you're beautiful and sexy and...and you make me go insane” (@anxiousblanketqueen Derek)
Song Prompts:
Share Your Address- Ben Platt
Another Love- Tom Odell
Let My Love Open The Door- Pete Townshend
Nothing Matters When We're Dancing- The Magnetic Fields
Scar- Missy Higgins
It Gets Better- Rex Orange County
Golden- Harry Styles
Only Angel- Harry Styles (@mercy-burning Spencer)
Paper Rings- Taylor Swift (@alltooreid Spencer)
Love Story- Taylor Swift (@samuel-de-champagne-problems Spencer)
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masterwords · 3 years
Text
See Into the Dark (PART ONE)
Warnings: Violence, death, blood, canon-typical Criminal Minds stuff.
Notes: This is for @willowrose99's one year anniversary! If you want to read more of the writing for their celebration, follow the hashtag yo. So...I always thought it was a little silly that Hotch's "worst fear" was somehow related to the team, to be honest. I know he's afraid of hurting them, of not being able to save them, but I also know there are worse things he fears and I'm going to play with those and hurt him a little. Or a lot. This was intended to be a one shot but you know how I get carried away...this is about 3000 words and it's not even half done so, we'll see. (Yes, folks, this is a Mortch story. Not platonic.) It's messy and mostly unedited, as per usual. (Title comes from "A Forest" by The Cure and I'm pretty sure I've never used it before but I have a shit memory and this song is too perfect so...if I have...oops.)
“Dr. Regan!” Aaron shouted, gun at the ready as he pushed through the open front door of her home. The hinges squealed at the movement, announcing his entry, foot crossing the threshold. He felt his ribs constrict beneath his vest, he'd pulled it a little too tight, like a Victorian corset bunching his shirt uncomfortably, something he did when he was anxious. He was going in alone, even after Derek had shouted at him on the phone as they drove, told him they weren't far enough behind him that he couldn't wait but he knew better. He knew they'd have traffic through DC to contend with, even at that time of night, and he couldn't trust that Dr. Regan wasn't already in trouble.
“It's open! Come in!” she chirped, and it made his skin crawl. Everything was black, his eyes struggled to adjust and his heart thundered wildly against his sternum, he could feel the reverberations in his throat.
“Are you alright?” there was a light ahead, dim and orange hued light glowing, enticing him toward it. His finger itched beside the trigger.
“Agent Hotchner? I got Agent Rossi's message.”
“Doctor, you're in danger. You need to leave the house.” He knew he was pleading with no one, she wasn't there, not really. It was her voice, her body, but it was unnatural and it made his skin crawl.
“I understand. I'm in the study.”
In the orange glow of the lamps he could only make out faint shadows, some human in shape, some not, but he crept forward still. Ice water trickled through his veins and he felt a sudden course of adrenaline, one thought flashing through his mind as he approached. Morgan was right, I should have waited.He took another step and prayed hard that his team were on their way, that they wouldn't get held up in traffic, that they were right behind him. His intuition rarely failed him. He could override and ignore it, but it was rarely wrong and right now, he knew he was in danger. Understood that simple fact clearly, yet he couldn't force himself to turn around and abandon this woman who was still alive.
“I'm so glad you're here.” He turned toward the voice, closer now, more personal. He trained his gun on her, felt the warmth of his finger against the cool metal and waited. “You need to see this.” She was holding a knife now, or a letter opener, he couldn't tell in the orange glow. It was silver and the light glinted off of the blade.
“He wants you to see this,” she said, nodding her head and she looked real, spoke like it was really her in there as she rammed the blade into her throat. He'd seen many things in his years, horrors that would never leave him be, but the way she jammed that blade straight into her throat made the bile rise in his throat and he gagged.
He cried out and let his gun fall to his side, rushing for her as she crumpled to the ground in a sticky black-red pool of blood. She was gone and he knew it before he heard her body hit. She made a gurgling noise as she took her final breath, and he crouched over her, ready to press his hand to her throat as it gushed out her life when he heard a hissing sound from beside him and felt a mist cover his face. He gasped, flew in a desperate circle firing his gun at nothing and everything, blinded and panicked like a wild animal cornered. His eyes burned, his skin itched and he tried to clamber to his feet unsteadily. He managed two shots before he fell to the ground, scrambled back up to his knees disoriented, the room swimming around him, rocking back and forth beneath him like a boat in a squall. Something hard and cold bashed him in the head, smashing against his temple and he felt his jaw crack sending him back down to the floor face first. His head throbbed, jaw sending electric shocks down into his shoulders with each breath and he blinked once, twice, hard to try and focus. He got to his knees, grabbed a pitcher of water and splashed it over his face, blinking desperately into the water to try and wash the caustic mist from his eyes. Quickly, he turned and felt the mist again, concentrated and closer this time, he felt the spray, the compressed air pushing it into his eyes, his lungs and he fell, bashed his face into the table on his way down. Please be close, he thought as he clawed wildly at the floor to try and get his bearings. He reached for his leg, grappling with his holster to draw his weapon, eyes squeezed shut tight against the flames erupting behind his lids. He couldn't breathe. His lungs were ash but he got his gun out, aimed it at the shadow figure above him and felt something metal crash into his cheekbone, knocking him to the ground in a heap, his weapon flying out of his hand. He lay on his back in agony, eyes watering and barely able to open, his vision all but black and his head throbbing mercilessly. His thoughts were chaos and pain, there wasn't anything he could hold onto as a face slowly came into focus, wicked and shadowy features, the features of Hell itself. The third time the mist hit him, he couldn't fight it, he gasped and breathed the flames into him, groaning miserably.
“You can't move,” a disembodied voice hissed. “Because I say you can't move. Do you see how this works? You do what I say.”
“Peter...” Aaron whispered, tongue dry and sticking to the roof of his mouth. His throat burned with each breath, mind a blank canvas. His vest was gone, he was acutely aware that the weight of it was no longer protecting him.
“I didn't say you could talk. Don't cry for her, she was stupid and wrong.” As Lewis spoke about Dr. Regan, Aaron tried to focus. Every muscle, every nerve was dead, his head felt too heavy on his shoulders and the entire world was out of focus. He struggled to listen to what Lewis said, tried to find ways to make his mouth work, to make his muscles work. They spoke in whispers, Lewis trying to get into Aaron's head. He watched as his phone rang, as Lewis spoke to him, distracted him. The phone was bright, blinking, a beacon of hope in the abyss. Let it be my team, he thought, and not a telemarketer. The thought brought a lazy sort of smile to his lips, the idea that it was not his team at all but someone asking him if he'd like to buy an extended warranty for something he'd bought recently, or maybe a healthcare survey. Lewis saw the smile and brought him back with a nudge. Aaron knew Lewis, knew he wanted attention so with a painful crackling in his jaw and searing pain, he spoke to Lewis about his father, about Dr. Regan, anything to keep his attention long enough that his team could get to them.
“Ohhhh you're good, Agent Hotchner...but I know all about you, too. Close your eyes.” Aaron closed his eyes. He didn't want to, he tried to fight it but closing his eyes felt good, it brought relief to the burning. “Can you hear him crying, Agent Hotchner? Crying for you to help him?” It was Sean's voice, his little lisp was so familiar, something long forgotten and buried beneath the rubble of his life but so clear now. Aaron felt something twist inside of him. “Open your eyes. Sean needs your help.”
He opened his eyes and he was back in that house, in the kitchen and Sean was standing in the corner crying and pleading for Aaron to help him, for his father to stop, screaming he was sorry and Aaron couldn't move to him, couldn't help him. He reached out and tried, opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out and he blinked hard, shut out the sound of his brother pleading and forced his mind to focus – Sean wasn't a child, he was a grown man and their father was dead and gone. Dead and gone.
“My father is dead,” Aaron whispered through cold lips barely moving. Lewis smiled.
“That isn't your father,” he hissed. “Look closer.”
Aaron opened his eyes and saw the form of his father begin to come into focus, as the figure gained clarity it shifted its shadowy tendrils and he realized it wasn't his father, it was his own face staring back at him. Cold, dark eyes set deep in his angry, sharp face and the boy crying was not Sean, it was Jack. Aaron hunched down inside of himself, tried to understand what he was seeing, to make sense of it with logic. He grasped at the threads of reality, tried to pull himself into somewhere warm and comfortable and away from the man with the fist hovering above his son. Jack let out a scream and it echoed through his bones, his heart thundering wildly in his chest and he felt his hands ball into fists at his sides just as the man-who-was-not-him balled his own hands into fists as if they were tied together by an unbreakable force. He closed his eyes before the figures connected and he curled his legs up to his chest, pulled them tight and buried his face there, refusing to see. Lewis laughed. If you could call it that.
“Open your eyes.” Aaron did as he was told, but it was reluctant, Lewis could see that. He pressed the clear mask to his face and sprayed Aaron in the face again, afraid he was losing control. There was no flinch this time, just quiet acceptance and a fierce choking and burning after. His eyes were wide open now, and all he could see was the shadow of himself standing above Jack with tears in his eyes, and then it shifted again and Jack became Haley, oozing blood and lifeless in his arms, Foyet's mangled corpse beside them, and he sat and stared with dead eyes, a man so filled with unspeakable fear that Lewis only had to plant a seed and his mind took control, cycled through the terrors for him, the same it did every night he tried to sleep only now he thought he might be able to reach out and touch them. Touch Haley's lifeless body, feel the warmth of the blood surrounding her head like a hellish halo, the blood that was slowly oozing toward him, reaching out to him.
“Now you know what I can do,” Lewis whisper-hissed in Aaron's ear. “Now you see.”
The phone buzzed again, but Aaron kept his eyes trained on Haley, her soulless body and he thought he saw her hand twitch, bloody fingernails shifting just slightly beneath the orange glow. And then she turned her head away from the shadow creature holding her and looked at him, blinked once, smiled a black smile with too many teeth, too wide, too open. It was a gaping thing and it spread until her face was engulfed in that inky shadow and the vision was gone.
“I'm about to come through that door...” Lewis said, handing Aaron a knife. He felt the sticky blood on his hand, Dr. Regan's knife heavy against his fingers. “Kill me.”
“No,” Aaron replied, letting the knife drop to the floor. He listened to it clatter, echo in his ears. Lewis growled, reached for his gas again but the door burst open and in a split second of fury, understanding the look that had flashed across Aaron's features as he recognized for a split second the man who entered, he placed the mask over his face and leaped to his feet, gassing the figure as it entered the room. Aaron couldn't make out any faces, everything was twisted hellish shadows and ash, but somehow he knew it was Derek, the way he crashed through doors, the way he splintered them to bits, the smell of his cologne and sweat and he heard Derek cry out, heard a body crash to the floor and he was filled with a sudden fury of knowledge that if Lewis got to Derek, if Derek died, all was lost. Lewis would win. He couldn't let that happen.
He grappled for the knife left beside him and lunged forward, squinting into the dark, slashing with the blade Dr. Regan had taken her own life with. He heard the sound of something almost inhuman wailing, crying out as his blade made contact, and he scrambled to his feet only to be knocked back down. His arm, thrown out hurriedly to brace himself as he fell, was crushed beneath his body and another, much heavier, atop his. He felt the bone snap but the pain came later, a spasm and a wave of intense nausea and then he let go of the knife and pulled his arm close to his chest, curling around himself. He heard Derek, knew it was him, pushing up to his feet, heard JJ screaming for Derek to stop, to put him down. He heard Dave threatening to shoot, but it didn't sound real, Dave wouldn't shoot Derek. Another dream, he thought, but the pain in his arm was real and somehow he knew it was Derek that had fallen on him, Derek he'd been grabbing at and fighting with. Was it Derek he stabbed? He didn't know. He heard Dave's voice threatening again, and then heavy footsteps thundering through the house. A door flew open and crashed shut and he was alone, gasping for breath.
“Aaron?” Dave asked, crouching beside his friend. Aaron recoiled, away from the knife, away from his friend, hid his face in shame, held his arm close because the pain was making him sick but it was also grounding him in some semblance of reality. The voices, the shadows, they could all be Lewis' doing but the pain in his arm was real.
“He made me see things...” he whimpered. Dave squeezed in closer, touched Aaron's shoulder.
“You're okay,” Dave said softly, peering around at the chaos in the room. Broken glass, guns, so much blood. He couldn't tell how much of the blood belonged to the dead woman beside them, and how much might have been Aaron's or Lewis', there was just so much and it was in so many places that his mind couldn't make sense of it. Aaron's once white shirt was covered, sticking to him where it got thick. “You're okay.”
“Derek?” Aaron croaked, eyes flying open suddenly, staring up at Dave with a look of sheer terror. Like he was there but he wasn't, like he saw but not with his own eyes.
“Where is Derek?” Dave glanced around the room, looked up at JJ who pointed to the door with her own look of horror on her features.
“He's outside.” That was the simple answer. The only answer he could give to Aaron in his current state. “He's outside. Let's get you to the ambulance.”
Derek trampled through the garden, heavy boots crashing through flowers and around topiaries coming to life before his eyes. Great shadowy green monsters, looming over him, crashing around him. The body in his arms was limp, he could feel the warm blood against his hands and he struggled to see through the tears in his eyes as he ran. Lewis spoke in whispers, a gurgling sound in his throat, sputtering coughs as he assured Derek repeatedly that he was Aaron and Aaron was dying in his arms, he had to get him to safety, away from Peter Lewis. He knew he had only minutes before Derek would realize who was actually in his arms, he needed to get the man to put him down soon but just a little further, closer to the ravine that bordered Dr. Regan's estate, he could hide there and get away. Leave Derek there to mourn the loss of his love, a tool Lewis hadn't realized he had in his belt until he saw the look on Aaron's face when the man entered. Exactly the out he needed, provided to him by heaven or hell he didn't care, it was divine intervention.
“Put him down, he's gone. Let him rest here.” Derek dropped to his knees, reluctantly let the body to the ground, pressed his bloody hands to his face and wept. Lewis slipped out of Derek's way and stood, pressing his hand to the wound in his side.
"Kill Scratch," Lewis whispered into Derek's ear. On nimble feet he slipped down the edge of the ravine and disappeared into the inky black night leaving Derek alone with his grief and his rage.
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masterwords · 3 years
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See Into the Dark (PART TWO)
Warnings: Violence, death, blood, canon-typical Criminal Minds stuff.
Notes: This is for @willowrose99's one year anniversary! If you want to read more of the writing for their celebration, follow the tag below yo. ~3200 words
Previously On: PART ONE
Derek crouched in the reeds at the edge of the ravine, arms gashed by thorns, blood dripping down his fingers into the mud and he held his gun, peering into the dark. He hunched low, watched as two shadowy figures approached, speaking to one another in a language he couldn't make out, it sounded like snakes hissing wildly and he blinked to try and focus. He felt the blood slicking his fingers, ruining the grip he had on his gun and he reached up to wipe at his eyes with the back of his hand, swiping his face with sticky red. His stomach lurched as the figures approached, one with a halo of white gold and the other slinking along like a serpent.
“Morgan!” Spencer shouted, approaching his friend, hands in the air as a gesture of surrender. Derek wiped at his eyes again, tried to reconcile the serpentine figure with the familiar voice. He was growling, weeping, angry and grief stricken. “Morgan!” Spencer called again, and Derek relinquished his grip on the gun, let it fall to the ground, tears coursing rivers down his cheeks streaking through the blood. He looked at the empty ground, and back at his friend, confused, angry.
“Aaron is dead,” Derek moaned, and it was the most painful sound Spencer thought he'd ever heard. “Peter Lewis killed him. Where is he? WHERE DID YOU TAKE HIM?” His demeanor changed, he thrashed around through the reeds, arms whipping from side to side in a desperate search for a body that was never there. Spencer was taken aback at first by the mention of Hotch by his first name, he couldn't think of a time he'd ever heard it from Derek and it sounded unnatural and wrong, but he pushed past it, understanding that there were some things he just wasn't owed an explanation on and this was going to have to be one of those things. “No,” Spencer replied, crouching beside Derek, JJ coming in from the other side to help subdue him. They pinned his arms by pressing in on him, forced him to stop. “There isn't anything there. Hotch is in an ambulance with Rossi, he's going to be okay.” Spencer didn't know that, Aaron looked bad, but he was hopeful. It wouldn't have done any good to tell Derek the truth, he was suffering the effects of Lewis' drugs and the lines between reality and fiction were blurred. Derek shook his head miserably, blinking the burning out of his eyes. “He's right here, Reid.” When he looked, he saw Aaron's lifeless body, there on the ground before him in a place that Spencer saw only grass and twigs and decaying leaves. He'd been gone but now he was back, returned to him, and he reached out, thought he touched Aaron's cheek. It was wet, slicked with blood and so cold. He wanted to hold the body close to him, but somehow he knew if he tried, Aaron would disappear again into the shadow and he might never see him again. He couldn't take that chance, so he stared instead, lost in the depth of his grief. A mourning party of one.
“There's nothing there,” Spencer whispered. “Peter Lewis drugged you. Hotch is fine. Do you want to go see him? I can take you to him.” More lies, he spoke with his forked tongue and he had already made his peace with the deception. He wouldn't take Derek to Aaron, was too worried about what might happen after watching the way Derek attacked him in the house, bashed him, fell on top of him and didn't even flinch when he cried out in pain. The sound of bone snapping had turned Spencer's stomach, like he could feel the pain himself, but Derek just got up like it hadn't happened. He understood the drugs Lewis used enough to know that Derek didn't know who he was fighting, might never truly grasp it, and certainly wouldn't be able to forgive himself if he knew the truth so right now, the lies flowed like honey wine, smooth and sweet and comforting. Skol, he thought bitterly. “I carried him, Reid,” Derek muttered, and he knew who he was talking to, the fog was slowly lifting. JJ had rushed into the reeds, searched desperately for Lewis, for footprints in the mud but found nothing but blood on leaves and a trail that went straight into the water. He was gone. “I carried him. That was real.” Derek showed Spencer his arms, blood thick on his skin, some of it is, some of it not. “You carried Peter Lewis,” Spencer replied softly. “Hotch stabbed him, you brought him out here because he told you to." “He's gone, Spence,” JJ announced breathlessly on her return, and Derek fell to the ground in a heap, fingers clawing at the mud below. “He got away.” She spoke with barely masked frustration, staring at Derek as if he'd known what he was doing, as if he'd been an accomplice. Dave paced the waiting area, a familiar sick feeling coursing through him. Too many times, he'd been here too many times. Followed Aaron out of an ambulance only to have doors slammed in his face. Over and over it happened and it never seemed to get any easier. The older he got, the older they both got, the worse it was, all of the hopefulness of youth had dried up, left him nothing but a crumbling husk of a man worried about his friend, always worried about his reckless friend, the hero with the wounded heart. The unlikely hero in his suit and tie, so composed until the moment he put it all on the line and Dave would be forever left standing in the wake. Penelope sat in a chair behind him furiously typing on her laptop, trying to figure out where Lewis might go, grateful that the hospital would let her use their WiFi. “Agent Rossi?” she asked, breaking him from his pacing. He paused, turned to look at her, and she was such a beam of light that he felt himself take a breath, a real breath, the first in a while. “Come sit down, sir. Please. He's in good hands.” He nodded, he knew. Slowly, he approached the chairs, took a seat beside Penelope and her sweet cherry blossom scent and forced himself to take another breath, in and out. None of his anxiety would help them fix his friend. “Any updates on Derek?” Dave asked, and Penelope nodded. “They, um, they got him into an ambulance, they're on their way. Reid...” she started, clearing her throat. “Reid says we need to keep them apart. He's worried about what that evil little demon man put into their heads.” “He's right. We don't know what he did to them.” He'd been sitting with that reality, pacing back and forth with it hanging over his head, for too long. What Lewis had put in Hotch's head was far worse than the fear of his physical injuries. A broken arm would heal, but what about his mind? They looked up to see the commotion of Derek being brought in on a stretcher, thrashing around in his restraints and shrieking like a man possessed. JJ and Spencer caught sight of Dave and Penelope watching and made their way over, their eyes wide with worry and terror. “He's in and out,” JJ offered, listening to the sounds of Derek's near hysteria fading into the background as they hauled him in for his examination.
“One minute he's Derek, and he knows what happened, and the next he's screaming about killing Scratch and Hotch being dead. I don't...” her voice broke and Spencer shook his head. “We need to talk about what we do when they're released,” Spencer said, and Dave nodded, he'd been meaning to say the same thing, glad that someone was on the same page. “They can't be around each other until we know what happened. We know what Lewis is capable of, we've seen it firsthand. He turned innocent people into murderers. Neither Hotch nor Morgan are predisposed to DID that we know of, but it doesn't mean there won't be far reaching effects, not to mention just the basic scopalomine withdrawals. I don't think Morgan got more than one dose, we were right behind him, but Hotch...he was there for a long time, hours before we got to him, we have no way to know how much he got.” They spoke in hushed whispers, as if the hospital had ears, as if someone might be hanging onto their every word. Kate showed up just before they were told Aaron could have visitors while they waited on his orthopedic consult. It was decided that Dave would be the only one to go back, he'd been the one to find Aaron, to ride with him, and he could make the best judgment of his mental state. Everyone else sat down and waited to hear from him, to hear about Derek. The waiting game was the worst part, though it was somehow almost natural with Aaron, no one ever crowded around him in his hospital room, it was a one at a time ordeal always. With Derek, they would all crowd in and he would eat it up but Aaron needed solitude, he needed the quiet so they would trickle through his room slowly and they would leave quicker. Except Dave, he would almost always stay. Be the first one there and the last to go. It was, more or less, an unwritten rule. It was dark in the exam room, curtain pulled closed around Aaron. The hospital was busy, there wasn't space for private rooms but at least there were curtains and dim lights. He noted that, while there was a television, it was off and the machines were angled so the lights faced away from him the best they could. Aaron lie shivering on the thin bed, arm packed in ice at his side, face a mess of cuts and bruises and swelling. Dave grabbed the blanket from the foot of the bed and spread it over his friend, over his bare arms and tucking it in around his shoulders. Aaron didn't open his eyes, didn't look at him at all, but Dave could tell he was awake. He could see the red around Aaron's eyes even in the dim light, his eyelids were swollen and bleeding in the corners and he understood why it was being kept so dark. “You need to talk about it,” Dave said, breaking the silence. The muscles in Aaron's jaw flexed, clenched and released, but he didn't open his eyes. “I need to know what happened.” “I don't know what happened,” Aaron whispered, lips barely moving. His chest was burning, breathing took every ounce of strength at his disposal. Out wasn't so bad but the breath in was like fire. “It doesn't make sense.” “I don't care. I need you to talk, I'll be the judge of what makes sense and what doesn't. Tell me what it felt like, what it smelled like, anything. Just talk.” Just talk. Dave had no idea how hard that simple act was, how badly it all hurt, how his head spun like a carnival ride when he opened his eyes. How he felt like he'd been hit by a car, every muscle, every joint ached at even the slightest movement. He wanted to tell him that, all of that, tell him about seeing Sean and his father and Jack and Haley and the blood but was his father threatening Jack? Did he kill Haley? He had no idea, the forms shifted, the lights changed, sometimes the blood was his and only his. Sometimes he was alone. Sometimes his father's fist crashed into his cheek, spit sour beer spray into his face. There was no sense to be made of any of it, the pieces were scattered and the more his head cleared, the more awake he became, the further the pieces
flew apart, lodging into him like shrapnel. “Talk to me, Aaron,” Dave said again, leaning over his friend now. “Tell me something.” “My arm hurts,” Aaron said finally, it was the first thing he thought of that he knew to be real and it was the only coherent thought he had. Tears caught in his lashes as they rested on his cheeks and Dave stopped, he couldn't push anymore. He knew he should, he needed to, the longer he waited the worse it would get, but he couldn't do it. Later he may regret it, but for now he just placed his hand on Aaron's head, smoothing the damp hair back from his forehead. “I want to go home.” “Okay, Aaron. Just relax, we'll go home soon.”
While the orthopedic team took care of Aaron's arm, Dave phoned Jessica, letting her know what had happened and why Aaron wouldn't be able to come home for some time. She wasn't sure what to do with that information, she couldn't take that much time off of work. Dave insisted he'd take care of it, find a way to make sure Jack was cared for when she couldn't but Aaron couldn't be trusted to be around the boy, or her, for a while. The worst part was that he didn't know how long, he couldn't give her a single answer, he just watched them splinting Aaron's arm while he lay still in the bed and he sighed. For the first time in years, Jessica could feel anger at Aaron bubbling beneath the surface, anger at him for putting himself into situations that took him away from his child, put him in danger, placed the burden of his miscalculations directly on her shoulders. She didn't say any of it, just agreed, told Dave she'd let him know when she needed someone else to take Jack and that was it. Dave could tell, though, he could hear the shift in her tone and he couldn't say he blamed her. Even saints had breaking points. She may have loved him for most of her life, but she didn't have to like every stupid thing he did. She also knew that if she could see him, if she saw him in pain, she'd change her tune in a heartbeat, and that was just how much she loved him.
“Any word on Derek?” Dave asked, entering the lobby and approaching his team. He knew there must have been something, Spencer was missing and everyone looked calmer than before. “He's being discharged, Spence is with him. How's Hotch?” JJ stood, shoving her hands into her pockets, and eyed Dave cautiously. Kate and Penelope approached, forming a small half circle before Dave who suddenly felt very useless and very, very small. “He's in bad shape but I think they're going to let me take him home soon. Another hour or so.” There were things he hid, things they weren't prepared to hear as they sat with their shock at how wrong things had gone so quickly. One moment they were on the verge of catching their bad guy and heading home after a successful chase, and the next two of their own were in the hospital and their bad guy was in the wind. So, instead of adding undue worry to their plates, he fed them hope, he fed them careful lies that he could retract later, lies that would help them sleep tonight. Someone needed to. That hour or so would stretch into an overnight stay at best, the way things were going, and he knew it. The look on Penelope's face told him she wasn't buying it, but the other two he thought maybe he had a shot with. “What is bad shape?” Kate asked, raising an eyebrow. She used air quotes, she was laying it on thick. She'd been with the team a short time, but she'd spent enough time beside Dave to be able to detect his subtle lies, his agitated sighs. “I need specifics.” “Not now, Callahan,” Dave said, aware that using her last name was much harsher than was necessary but he wasn't prepared to discuss specifics and as it turned out, he hadn't been fooling any of them. He wasn't entirely surprised. “They're running tests, we don't have a lot of solid answers. Not now.” Spencer wheeled Derek out before Kate had a chance to press further, they all watched the way he seemed to curl into himself, staring into the distance. Spencer walked slowly, trying not to jostle him and his patchwork of bandages, arms limp in his lap. They stopped with the group and Derek glanced up at them, but he didn't make a move, didn't say a word, just looked with dead eyes. “How is Hotch?” Spencer asked, and Derek lowered his head, unable to listen, to hear. He tuned out the conversation, he knew the truth, he knew Aaron was gone, he'd seen him, he'd touched him. They would lie and say he was okay, say he was going to be fine, there wasn't anything they could do to take the feel of that cold cheek from his fingertips. The way he knew it to be true. He heard Dave's voice and it ignited an anger in him, made him ball up his fists, squeeze his eyes shut. Spencer crouched beside him, pressing his hands around Derek's fists, tried to catch his eyes when they opened. “He's alive, I promise. As soon as it's safe, you can see him. He isn't dead.” “Take me to him or it's a lie,” Derek muttered angrily and Spencer glanced up at Dave, eyes pleading. Dave shrugged and shook his head, and Spencer understood. Not yet. He sighed, turning his attention back to Derek who was staring at him expectantly, accusingly, and he itched to wheel that chair down the hallway so he could see. What would be the harm in just looking? They wouldn't need to speak, just see and maybe it would fix something, the hurt in Derek's eyes, the grief over the death of someone who wasn't dead. Spencer thought, for a moment, that he understood what JJ and Aaron had felt after Emily died, they grieved too but they grieved someone still alive and couldn't tell a soul. But for Derek, it looked different, and Spencer thought maybe the blood rage, the revenge, all of it would just vanish if he could just see...but he also knew better, that the sight of Aaron in that bed could, and would, make it worse somehow. He'd thought Aaron was Scratch once, he might do it again. Tears burned his eyes and he blinked them free, knowing he had to hurt his best friend worse than he already had.
“I'm sorry, Derek. I'm so sorry, but you can't see him yet. Not until we know it's safe for both of you.” Silence fell between them and Derek looked down, pulled his hands away from Spencer's grip with a disgusted look on his face and thought about snapping Peter Lewis' neck. It would be so easy. “Let's go,” he demanded, his voice cracked and broken, a dead thing like a twig snapping in the forest at night alerting the prey to a predator's proximity. “Now.”
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sinfulspencer · 2 years
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SPENCER REID SFW MASTERLIST
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If you’re interested in being a part of my taglist, click here and fill the form.
If you want to send a request, make sure to read my guidelines first.
If you're interested in my SPENCER REID NSFW MASTERLIST, you can find it here.
If you're looking for MGG'S OTHER ROLES MASTERLIST, you can find it here.
If you're looking for SPENCER REID GENERAL MASTERLIST, you can find it here.
* refers to Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader; ** refers to Spencer Reid x GN!Reader.
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ANGST
💙: happy ending; 💜: sad ending
The side of Paradise**: Moving on after a break-up is difficult, especially when you feel like you don't have any more love to give. But sometimes love comes randomly and when you least expect it, like... at your best friend's birthday party. (GN!Reader) 💙
Revelations*: Y/N has been kidnapped and held hostage by an unsub. She's forced to share her secrets in order to stay alive. One secret involves her colleague, Doctor Reid. 💙
Addicted to a losing game*: Rossi is getting married. The whole team is present. Y/N doesn’t have a date but Spencer does, and it’s not her.💜
Home (part II of “Addicted to a losing game”)*: Y/N comes home from her journey. Some things have changed.💙
Human*: Based on the prompt “I cheated”. Spencer and Y/N have been together for over two years. Sometimes love is not enough. 💜 Enough for you*: Spencer and Y/N meet after their break-up and he finds out she has given birth to their daughter. Choas endures. (coming soon, requested) 💙
Traitor**: Two weeks after your breakup, you come back to work and find out why Spencer broke up with you (coming soon). 💜
Say something (part one)*: Y/N and Spencer are supposed to go on a date, but what happens when he doesn’t show up? 💜
Bitter and sick (part two of “Say something”)*: Y/N finds out why Spencer stood her up. He has to win her back somehow. 💜
Another love*: Spencer can’t let go of the past. Y/N can’t pretend this isn’t hurting her anymore. Based on the song “Another love” by Tom Odell for #willsannievent. 💜
Red*: Spencer is being held as an hostage. You have to save his life as the unsub spills a secret that will change your life forever. (GN!Reader) 💙
The one that got away*: Spencer didn’t think he would see you again after ten years. Now he has to come to terms with his mistake in this past.💙
Reflections*: After you left the BAU to pursue your career in Sex Crimes, Spencer hasn’t been the same. One day Luke decides to confront him to find out the truth. 💙
Last breath**: Spencer’s last moments with his partner. 💜
All I want*: After being held hostage for two days, Spencer finally manages to find you but not in the way you think (coming soon). 💙
Endings, beginnings*: Spencer cheats. You find out and confront him. (coming soon) 💜
Youth*: Spencer is well aware of your feelings for him, but his happiness comes first. Even when you get hurt on the field. Based on the song 'Youth' by Daughter. (coming soon) 💜
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FLUFF
Life*: Spencer Reid has always wanted to be a father. Based on the beautiful song, “Life” by Sleeping at last.
Cotton candy flavoured kiss*: The third date is considered the most important date between lovers. Candy floss is now turning into Spencer’s favourite flavour in the world.
A thousand rainy days*: Spencer declares his love for an oblivious Y/N on a rainy day (coming soon).
All of me*: Spencer and Y/N go to Rossi's wedding together when he comes to realize Y/N is his soulmate.
Lost in translation*: Y/N is drunk. Spencer is trying to take her home safely when a love confession happens. But not in english.
Remembrance**: After a particular tough case, you can't seem to get a grip on what happened but Spencer is there to help you.
Through the fire**: Spencer comes home shaken up after a case; you're there to comfort him. Inspired by 14x01 (coming soon).
Coincidences*: Spencer has been spending quite some time at the local supermarket because someone has captured his attention. Or where Spencer meets you many times in aisle of the supermarker and decides to make a move on you when you need help.
Expect the unexpected*: After being ghosted by you, Spencer pays you a visit and discovers why you stopped calling him. (coming soon)
Keep holding on*: In which Spencer and Y/N don't like each other but they call it a truce for one night because she's upset (coming soon).
The plus one*: You beg Spencer to pretend to be your boyfriend at your Christmas' family dinner. (coming soon)
Double espresso*: Derek notices Spencer has a crush on the bartender at the local coffee shop, so he does his best to play match-maker. (coming soon)
20 questions*: Spencer and Reader are out on their first date, when they decide to play 20 questions. (coming soon, requested)
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