it-was-summer - Tumblr blog

it-was-summer · 2 years

Text

Video Killed The Radio Star - Chapter 9 (Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader)

A/N: Hello dear readers, thank you so much for keeping up with my writing! I know that the past few months have been quiet on my behalf but I am trying to write a little more considering my school and work schedule! Please let me know if you have any issues with the tag list or is any of you wish to be removed from the tag list. Lots of love, Em <3

Warnings: Some disturbing imagery in a dream

Plot: Spencer and you become closer and closer as the days go by. You spend your days swarded with dark dreams, but Spencer seems to calm you down over a phone call. You start to heal.

Word Count: 2.7k+

Hotch watched as Spencer flipped open his phone for what seemed to be the fifth time within the last hour. It didn’t bother Hotch necessarily but rather took him off guard. Spencer never liked technology that much, he actually made it a point to avoid it, so why was he using his phone so much today?

He knew that people didn’t really talk to him about things, but that didn’t stop him from hearing things throughout the day. Penelope was thinking about dying her hair again or how everyone was teasing Spencer over his mismatched socks again, silly and entertaining antics, but nothing ever serious. Then again their jobs were serious, so maybe everyone made it a point to only fill him in on personal lighthearted issues.

Spencer looked up from his phone, immediately making eye contact with Hotch. Spencer gave him a nervous smile and Hotch returned it for a single second before he was on the move over to Spencer. “Something good happening to you?”

Spencer gave Hotch a strange look before he was nodding, “I think I’m stepping out of my comfort zone,”

“Are you?”

“Well, trying to,” Spencer muttered as he felt the soft vibration of his phone against his palm, he stammered softly as Hotch raised an eyebrow.

“Texting more?”

Spencer smiled at the simple question, that was something he always liked about Hotch, he never asked too many questions. He didn’t have to. “Yeah,”

___

You were still thinking about what your mother had said over lunch, the romantic inside of you leaped and danced with joy as if to say ‘Yes, yes, yes, grab the boy and kiss him, let yourself be romanced’, but the realist in you knew better. You were still healing, and whenever you thought about it you became more convinced that you couldn’t handle something so deep right now.

Still, Spencer wasn’t leaving the conversation. You were walking back to your apartment with your mother by your side as she kept saying “They do say that people find love when they least expect it.”

She was an optimistic person, she has always been an optimistic person and you loved her for it. You just didn’t love the way she couldn’t understand. She couldn’t understand that every time you thought about Spencer doing anything romantic towards you his face morphed and twisted until he wasn’t Spencer anymore. She couldn’t understand that last week when you were looking for movies to watch you skimmed over ‘Pride and Prejudice’ and after that, you sat on your couch crying for over an hour. You decided that it was okay that she didn’t understand and you hoped that she never would.

“People also say that if your nose itches it means someone is thinking about you,” You muttered as you felt a growing itch form on your nose, trying your hardest not to scratch it as your mother laughed.

“Smartass,” she joked, as the two of you made it up to your apartment. Then she hugged you tight, so tight you had to tap on her shoulder softly to make her relax.

“I’m okay. I’m going to be okay,” you whispered as the two of you pulled away. There were tears in her eyes as she stared at you. This was another thing you hated, her worrying.

“Even if it’s not romantic, keep talking to him.”

“Why?”

“He can keep you safe, safer than I could.”

“Mom,” you felt your face become hot, tears daring to spill from your eyes as you shook your head. “You can’t blame yourself, I’m okay, I’m healthy, and I’m going to be fine.” You choked out weakly as she brought a hand up to caress your cheek.

“Okay,” she sighed, pulling her hand away quickly. “I’ll stop babying you and get going,”

“Mom,” you sighed with a gentle laugh “I love you,”

“I love you more,”

___

Once you were inside you were sliding your phone out of your back pocket, wiping tears from your eyes quickly as you texted Spencer. I think my mom just tried to suffocate me with a hug.

You stared at the screen for a second too long, waiting for a reply before you were carrying the phone into the living room with you. You were looking through your collection of books silently. You remember how your mother used to bake whenever she was stressed, she would bake and bake until the whole neighborhood had a tray of brownies in their kitchen. She used to say that books were your escape and baking was hers.

After nights of craving a drug, the memory made you think. Your mother baked and you read, after all, everyone knows that reading is just as good as getting high on morphine.

While you would love to boast that your library was filled to brim with classics, it was also filled with romance novels. You picked a familiar one off of the shelf as you felt your phone vibrate.

Always knew she was a suspect. You laughed at that, setting the book on the coffee table before you got another message. I’m joking, of course. Your mother is a lovely woman.

You softened at that, sitting down on the couch with a low groan, the one thing better than books was talking to Spencer Reid. You could fight against your mother about a lot of things, but you were beginning to cherish him as a friend and you didn’t plan on letting him go anytime soon.

She likes that I’m friends with you.

That makes two of us.

You bit down on your lip, trying to stop the smile from growing on your face. Sometimes you wondered if he knew how sweet he was, that maybe he was doing it on purpose.

As your friend, I demand that you get something to eat.

How did you know that I haven’t had anything to eat yet?

Friend instincts.

I’m not sure that’s a real thing.

Stuff your mouth with something filling, Doctor.

Okay, okay, I’ll text you later.

I’ll be waiting.

You let out a small breath, feeling like you were bold with that last message. You pick up the book on the coffee table, opening it eagerly.

Halfway through the meet-cute, you laid down on the couch, book in hand as you read with a small smile on your face. Somewhere along the way, you started to feel your eyelids grow heavy and your eyes burn, and eventually, you were asleep with a book open on your chest. For the first time all month, you fell into a dark and peaceful abyss.

___

Spencer was fiddling with his phone as he took a coffee break. He knew that his mind should have been on this case, but somehow you managed to creep your way back into his thoughts every time he focused on something too much. Physiologically speaking, when you can’t seem to get someone off of your mind there is a ninety percent chance that they feel the same way. Spencer knew that with his chances he most likely fell within that ten percent.

Then when he was pouring sugar into his coffee and you came up again. The way you laughed at little things, laughing with him, at him, he never wanted to forget that sound. He was starting to feel guilty. Someone’s life was on the line, and he was thinking about a girl, well, a woman was the better term.

He stole one last look at his phone as he headed back towards the team as they surrounded the bulletin board. Derek was already giving him that look, that look that let Spencer know that he knew who he was thinking about.

The one bad thing about working with so many brilliant minds was that they could read his not-so-brilliant body language. Their eyes snapped towards him when he reached into his back pocket for his phone, or when he would set down the book he was reading to text you back, they knew what was going on, they just didn’t say anything.

Hotch pulled him out of his spell with the words ‘geographic profile’ and just like that he was back in the zone.

___

Something was off, roses surrounded you; pink, red, and white. Rose after rose was wilting as you stayed planted, you felt soft material under your fingertips, velvet. You could feel the familiar lump rise up in your throat as you realized where you were. The room wasn’t pink, in fact, it looked strangely normal. Take away the heart-shaped bed and the roses and you were just in someone’s guest bedroom.

“Catherine,” she hummed next to you sweetly, your head not turning to look at her as you stared straight ahead. “I remembered something today,”

You didn’t speak, staring straight ahead, unmoving. It was like you were stuck in a glue trap, cursed to stay still or struggle until you killed yourself due to exhaustion. A rat ran up the edge of the bed, running towards your leg in a hungry frenzy, chewing on the open wound. You stared.

“How beautiful you looked in that sundress last Summer,” Her sugary voice pressed further, hands pressing against the exposed skin of your thigh. You couldn’t breathe, air, air, inhale, exhale, it’s just a dream. The rat chewed harder. “Just wanted to rip it right off of you.”

Your head turned at that, turning to scream an insult at her, but your voice caught in your throat as you saw her. Her skin was decorated with blood, the liquid pouring out of a large crack from her skull. You twisted away from her, the bed pulled you closer. “I don’t want this, I don’t want this!”

You shot up from the couch, the book falling to the floor with a gentle thud as you panted into the now dark living room. You sat there, frozen, for what seemed like an hour. It never got easier, dreaming about her. You felt guilty when you dreamt about her, it made you feel like you missed her or something twisted like that. You knew it wasn’t true but every time you didn’t want to think about her or every time you weren’t thinking about her, there she was again.

You would rather dream about Spencer, Godsend that he is. You sat up straighter on the couch, reaching over to the coffee table for your phone. You could feel your breathing relax as you clicked on a new message from him.

Finally headed back home to sleep in my bed.

You felt a tired smile reach your face at the thought. Spencer Reid curled up in bed in his work clothes after a case, now that must’ve been a sight, and deep down you wanted nothing more than to see him like that. Relaxed, happy, and content.

I’d like to see that.

You didn’t second guess the message as you hit send, but as you watched the screen you felt the panic set in, and then your phone was ringing. You felt your stomach drop as you answered it, hearing Spencer’s amused laughter on the other end of the line. “Don’t laugh at me,” you groaned in a scratchy voice.

“I’m not, I’m not,” you could tell he was smiling just from the sound of his voice.

“Then why do you sound so smug?”

“I sound intrigued, thank you very much.”

“Intrigued at what, exactly?”

“Why in the world would you want to watch me sleep?”

“I never said that, I said I would like to see you get some rest at home. I never said I wanted to watch you sleep!”

“Right, I apologize,” Spencer yawned over the phone.

“You’re home I’m guessing?”

“What makes you say that?”

You grinned at that, “I don’t think Mr. Derek Morgan would let this go if you weren’t at home,” you sighed as you felt your heartbeat calm down, your shoulders relaxing. You felt guilty, Spencer’s voice, his presence alone, calmed you down. You couldn’t help but feel like you were using him, you knew he was just being a friend, but you knew the thought would probably eat away at you tonight. “I’m happy you called,”

“Hard day?” his voice dipped as he laid down on his bed, eyes closing as he waited for your response.

“I should be asking you that, but yes.”

“What happened?”

“I just had this terrible dream and when I woke up, I had a text message from you and now I’m already feeling better. Relaxed,”

Spencer felt a tired smile stretch on his face, he should’ve been envious of you. He didn’t have this kind of feeling when he was struggling with his addiction and yet you were dealing with it so much better than he did, but it was because of him that you were doing better. “How did you think I earned the whole Doctor title?”

He got a laugh at that and he felt warm all over. Spencer laughed gently with you as you let out a low hum “Can I tell you about it?” he heard you whisper over the phone. There was something powerful in the way you trusted him. It wasn’t something dangerous or scary but rather something warm. Something lovely, stunning.

“I’m here to listen,”

There was a slight pause over the phone, a small stuttering sound emerged from your throat before you pushed out a nervous laugh. “I was laying on that bed, stupid heart-shaped bed, just surrounded by these dying rose petals. She was lying on the bed next to me and there were these weird-looking rats, just chewing away at my leg as she kept making advances on me. When I looked at her,” you felt your throat tighten and tears pool in your eyes. “When I looked at her, her skull was split and–and blood was just pooling out her head like a fountain,” you groaned as you brushed a few loose tears away.

Spencer was quiet for a second on the other side of the line, he could remember a time in his life where he would have horrible nightmares of children screaming, a time where he thought dreams were trivial things. “When something traumatic happens to us, our brains like to relive the experience, it's more of a response to post-traumatic stress disorder. They usually get triggered by a lack of sleep or seeing something that reminds them of that moment. They say that ninety-six percent of people with PTSD have insomnia, so don’t be too hard on yourself.”

“Talk more,”

“More? About what, exactly?”

“Talk more, about anything.”

“Well,” Spencer felt his mouth open and close as he tried to think about something to say, usually he had no problem in this department, but now he was faltering.

“Anything, Spencer, anything!”

“Did you know that singing can actually stimulate an immune response?”

You laughed gently at that before singing a very tiny, “I did not,”

“Brava, beautiful, again, again.”

“Thank you, thank you, I will make my debut soon.”

Spencer let out a tired laugh, glancing over at the clock on his nightstand, frowning at the time before he rolled over on his side.

“You’re about to say you need to go to bed,”

“Are we reading my mind again?”

“My powers are strong I see,”

Spencer felt his shoulders slump as his eyes struggled to stay open, “I’m sorry that I couldn’t help more,”

“You helped plenty, Spencer,” You played with the edge of your couch as you spoke, “Goodnight,”

“Goodnight,” And just like that, he was off the phone, falling asleep.

Sunlight poured into the room like liquid gold, a beam focusing itself onto your face. You opened your eyes slowly, taking note that you must have fallen asleep on the couch to your dismay. Your back ached and your neck seemed tense as you sat up, looking over at the kitchen clock to see it was only ten in the morning.

Something inside of you felt peaceful as you walked into the kitchen, searching the cabinet for a familiar packet of peppermint tea. Then you felt it again, a wave of peaceful bliss as you were taking the kettle off of the stove. Your eyes shifted over to the coffee table as you waited for the tea to cool, your phone. You were quick to pick it up and type up a message.

It’s not so loud today, my mind I mean.

You stared at the message for a second, biting your lip as you debated whether or not to send it. A simple ‘good morning’ text seemed better but this seemed more personal, more comfortable, so you sent it.

A few moments later you got a reply back – Is that so? Just the thought of you having a moment of bliss makes me smile.

And for the first time in weeks, you spent the day feeling astonishingly peaceful.

68 notes · View notes

it-was-summer · 2 years

Note

Yo could you write a Spencer Reid x Reader soulmate au. Where when your soulmate touches you for the first time you see color or something like that. I just think that since Spence is a germaphobe it would be ironic. The reader is part of the team and been there for like a year and she is good friends with Spencer and they never touched and maybe the team is all around them and shocked when they find out that they have known each other for year(s) but never touched idk ignore me.

It has been answered! Thank you so much for sending this request in and I really hope you enjoy what I wrote!

2 notes · View notes

it-was-summer · 2 years

Text

Hands, Touching Hands (Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader)

Requested: Yes! I’ve been trying to get to all of my request before getting to more Video Killed the Radio Star! I really hope you like this post! <3

Plot: Yo could you write a Spencer Reid x Reader soulmate au. Where when your soulmate touches you for the first time you see color or something like that. I just think that since Spence is a germaphobe it would be ironic. The reader is part of the team and been there for like a year and she is good friends with Spencer and they never touched and maybe the team is all around them and shocked when they find out that they have known each other for year(s) but never touched idk ignore me. @andreasworlsboring101

Word Count: 9 631 (I had a lot of fun writing this!)

The television screen was a cascade of grey, white, and black as you sat in the living room with your mother. She was combing out your hair with a small, grey comb, eyes flickering over to the television occasionally. “That color suits her,” she muttered, setting the comb down on the couch cushion next to her.

“How do you know that?” you asked, head tilting back into her lap with a smile.

She returned your smile before letting out a tiny sigh, “Well, because I can see color. Do you know why?” She asked you sweetly, causing you to shake your head from side to side to answer her question silently. “Well, it’s because your father is my soulmate. Do you know what a soulmate is, baby?”

“Yes, it’s someone who loves you to the ends of the earth, that’s what daddy says!”

“Right, or sometimes it’s just someone who you’re meant to be with. Like it was written in the stars.”

“Written in the stars?” you repeated, laughing gently at the idea of stars writing, which was rather amusing to your six-year-old brain, so you kept laughing.

Your mother let out a soft chuckle, leaning down to kiss you on the forehead before saying, “You’ll understand it a bit better when you get older, I promise.”

You were chewing on your pen during your mental health and justice lecture, squinting to see the screen, before writing down the black words onto your paper. Your dad bought the pen for you because it was pink and had a pink glitter cartridge, but it didn’t matter much since you couldn’t see it. He knew that too, he just was having fun with it, so you didn’t put up much of a fight.

Most of your clothes were, you guessed it, black and white. Of course, everything was labeled in society, by people who could see color. This chair was blue, that blouse was pink, and so on.

Your professor paused his slides, leaning into the microphone to grab everyone’s attention. “If you all would like to stick around, we have a guest speaker today.”

You were shoving your notebook and pink pen back into your bag as a well-dressed man came onto the stage, mouthing a quick thank you over to your professor. Everything about him seemed rather intimidating, professional even, but the way he gave the crowd of students watching him a quick grin made you think otherwise. So, you stayed to listen to what he had to say. “I’m Aaron Hotchner, I work for the behavioral analysis unit,” he began, and after that, you were hooked.

The crowd to the front of the lecture hall would surely make you late for your next lecture, but you didn’t care. You were waiting behind a group of girls as they whispered embarrassing comments about Mr.Hotchner, something about his hands, you weren’t really sure.

When it was finally your turn to speak to him, you tripped over your words gently managing a very weak and breathless “Mr. Hotchner, uh, sir, I’m already down the track to get my B.S. in criminology and criminal justice and I just want to know what I need to do to get to where you are, um,” you paused, catching your breath from speaking so fast “Sir,”

Aaron gave you a tiny smile, turning around to find a pamphlet on the nearby podium. Once he handed it to you, he watched you tear into it with hungry eyes. It was funny, you already wanted it so bad and you haven’t even graduated yet. He remembered that feeling; he remembered the nights he stayed up late in his living room as Haley watched a movie sitting on his worn-down apartment couch. “I hope to see you soon,”

Four black and white years passed in a blink of an eye, and lucky for you, you had an in. Well, not a guaranteed one, but an interview at least. Your leg was bouncing up and down in the lobby, your dress pants making soft rustling sounds against the chair as you panicked silently. You had all the qualifications and training, you just needed to calm down. That’s right, breathe, just inhale and exhale, oh god, Aaron Hotchner was walking out of his office.

You were holding your resumé in your hand as he approached and you felt the urge to vomit. You stood up as he got closer, putting on your best smile for him. He looked older, not bad, just more stressed and he was giving you a strange look as he got closer. When he was finally in front of you, he smiled and said “Good to see you again,” and then you exhaled.

“Yes, sir, I’m happy to be here.” you sighed as you shook his hand with a firm grip. The interview went pretty well, according to you anyway. Aaron had a pleased smile resting on his face as you answered a few questions about your field training. You were talking so fast and kept fidgeting and he couldn’t help but think about their youngest team member, Spencer. He gave your resumé one last look before he was making up his mind about you. Another pair of fresh eyes like yours couldn’t hurt.

As he was walking you out he could hear Garcia gossiping with Morgan, failing to whisper a pet name as the two of you passed. Your hands were shaking as you got to the elevator, turning around to give him one last smile, “Thank you for the opportunity, Mr. Hotchner.”

“Please, just call me Hotch,” he grinned at you before saying “I can’t have the team making fun of you for calling me Hotchner on your first day,”

You felt your mouth fall open, hands coming up to your chest as you let out an exhilarated sigh. A giddy laugh escaped you as you grabbed his hands, shaking them both in excitement, “Oh thank you, thank you!”

Hotch shook slightly as you shook his hands with excitement, pulling them away with a light-hearted laugh before saying “I’ll see you Monday, seven a.m.”

When Monday morning rolled around, you were getting up at five. This seemed strangely easy, mostly because of the adrenaline coursing through your veins, but it gave you plenty of time to get ready and get coffee. It was going to be a lovely day… well as lovely as a day at the BAU could be.

You were early, sitting in your car nursing a warm mocha nervously. Eventually, all the waiting around got to you, and you couldn’t handle it anymore. You had to get inside. You grabbed your bag, coffee, and all other necessities before making a bee-line for the building. After fumbling with your paperwork, you made it to the elevator, missing it by a few seconds.

You were watching the digitized screen above the elevator, waiting for it to get to your floor. You heard a gentle sneeze next to you, turning your head to your side to mutter a quick ‘bless you’ before you gasped, smiling wide “Hotch,” you exclaimed as the elevator doors opened.

He shared a calm smile with you “Good morning,” he muttered as he followed you into the elevator “You’re early.” he stated as he glanced down at his watch.

You nodded quickly “I hate the idea of being late,” you explained in a gentle tone.

The two of you got to talking about some work-related things that didn’t come up during your interview, mostly about your coworkers. The two of you were stepping through the door towards the offices when a small plastic cylinder hit you square on the forehead, eliciting a tiny ‘ow’ from you as Hotch bent down to pick it up.

You looked over in the direction it had come from, eyes landing on three women huddling around a semi-terrified-looking young man. You rubbed the tiny bump on your head as Hotch said “Physics magic?”

“Yes, sir.” The three women quickly dispersed, looking around for something to do.

“Reid, we talked about this,” Hotch said as he walked towards Reid’s desk.

“I’m sorry, sir,” Reid said, eyes flickering over to you as Hotch set the plastic item back on his desk.

“Really starting to get some distance on those,” Hotch complimented, Reid’s nervous face relaxing into an innocent smile. Hotch was heading towards his office before he shouted back “Apologize to the new hire,”

One of the attractive women spoke up first, “So, he does have a sense of humor.”

“New hire?” one of them repeated.

“New hire,” the other confirmed, pointing over to you as you approached apprehensively.

Reid was quick to act as you approached, hands nervously coming up as he spoke “I’m so sorry,” You smiled quickly at the sincerity in his voice, waving him off gently.

“It’s okay, really,” you looked at the group of four with a sheepish giggle before saying “Right, I’m Y/N, nice to meet you.” You greeted them quickly, holding your hand towards them.

“Hi, I’m Penelope Garcia, we kind of go by last names around here, so just call me Garcia or goddess divine works too, amongst other things.” she laughed, shaking your hand enthusiastically. You laughed gently, nodding as she dropped your hand.

“Emily Prentiss, I was Reid’s first bottle cap victim.” she joked, pointing towards the now faded mark on her forehead.

“Jennifer Jareau, but everyone just calls me JJ,” she shook your hand, leaning in to whisper “Spencer is harmless, physics magic considered.”

You laughed before Spencer was standing up, his hands knotting together nervously as he introduced himself “Spencer Reid,” he glanced at your hand, his fingers twitching for a second before he glued his arms to his side. You let your hand drop with a kind smile and Spencer felt his palms get clammy for a second, he was never very good around pretty girls. “Sorry, I would, I just think about everything that our hands touch and then,”

“It’s okay,” you cut him off quickly, making a mental note not to touch Spencer. “My dad is sort of a germaphobe so I get the no-touching thing.” Spencer smiled, his head tilting the side as he listened to you speak, “Our couch got wrapped up whenever we had guests over, that includes any of my aunts and uncles,” you trailed off.

“I think my mom was always just a perfectionist,” Emily muttered to herself before she was nabbed in the ribs by JJ.

“Explains a lot,” she teased before Garcia spoke up.

“Spencer is just our residential boy genius, next to me of course.” Garcia teased, her hands picking up yours with a grin. “You should see him when Morgan teases him,”

“Where is Morgan anyway?” Emily asked as she leaned settled over into her desk.

Spencer turned his head to look over his shoulder at Emily “In Chicago. He goes there every year for his mother’s birthday.”

“Boy genius?” you questioned softly, eyebrows raised as Garcia nodded.

“Yep,” she popped the word sweetly as Spencer shifted uncomfortably around in his chair. It was true, so why was he so embarrassed? He settled for the simple answer that you were new and he didn’t know how to feel about you yet, yes that was it. “He can read 20,000 a minute, and he has an eidetic memory, the whole genius thing down to the T.” Penelope laughed gently, watching Spencer’s cheeks blossom the faint color of pink, certain moments like these were when she was happy Derek was her soulmate. That black and white world was behind her, so now she could enjoy Spencer’s growing blush.

Spencer fought back the urge to beg Penelope to stop, but then he caught a glimpse of your face and how wide your eyes were. “Really?” you asked, leaning forward, your bag hanging down from your shoulders. “How fast can you type, er, do you usually write? Nonetheless, that’s interesting, I can finish a good book in a day or so, but not as fast as you I’m sure. What is your favorite book anyway?”

J.J. bit her lip, trying to hold back the growing smile on her lips as she shot a look over at Emily, but Emily was already laughing as she walked over to her desk, “Hotch hired another nerd, I can’t wait for Morgan to see this.”

“Hey!” Penelope said, looking between the two of you “I think it’s great that they’re going to be friends,”

“Don’t twist my words, I’m just saying we have a female Spencer on our hands,”

“Well, we don’t know her well enough yet to call her that,”

“Penelope,” Spencer sighed her name gently as you straightened, laughing gently as you listened to everyone tease you and Spencer. Penelope shushed him in a teasing way before she was headed back to her cave. J.J. stopped her giggling to show you over to your desk stopping there to talk to you a little more as Spencer watched from his desk.

“Don’t mind any of us, and welcome to the team.” She said, turning around to walk back to her office, catching one last look at Spencer who was staring you down as you settled into your desk.

You were laughing over some fruity drink that Penelope had gotten you before she had her eyes glued to Derek as he grinded on the dance floor. You sneaked past the group and made it over to the booth where Spencer was. The drink was making your brain fuzzy and just sitting on the opposite end of the booth from him as he talked about Star Trek with a small group.

In the past few weeks of working with the BAU, you found out three things; You and Emily were hired around the same time so both of you were new, Spencer rambled a lot, a quirk you did not mind in the slightest, and Gideon liked birds. Something you just found out tonight, in the middle of this club with a majority of the team. Spencer was exclaiming a proud “Drink!” before the moment was ruined by a surprise case.

According to JJ, a couple was murdered in their home just a mere hour ago, and just like that the party was over.

On the jet, you were standing next to JJ as everyone gathered around to hear the 911 dispatch call with anticipation. You frowned lightly hearing the two unsubs on the phone as a knot formed in the pit of your stomach, something seemed off. You knew better than to trust a simple feeling, so you kept your mouth shut as Gideon said “Y/N, Reid, and Morgan come with me to the crime scene,”

You were crouching on the floor, staring at the grey blood splatter on the bedroom floor. You only looked up when you heard Spencer speak.“You all right?” Spencer almost whispered to Gideon.

Gideon looked away from the highlighted bible passage on the bed, “What?”

“You seem unhappy,”

“I am unhappy,” he frowned lightly. “Tired of people using religion to justify the terrible things they do.”

You bit back a remark as Spencer began to talk about the unsubs with a nearby officer, so instead of talking you placed a gentle hand on Gideon’s shoulder and you offered a gentle smile. Gideon let out a tiny sigh before he nodded. It wasn’t much but it was meaningful. You turned your attention towards the police officer as Spencer talked about the unsub group dynamic.

Your eyes trailed over to the blood on the floor once again, “How many times was Mr. Kyle stabbed?”

The officer grimaced, “Stabbed, isn’t exactly the word.” You tilted your head to the side gently as you listened to him “Slaughter, gutted, something like that sounds better.”

After listening to a thorough retelling of the murders you nodded and the group moved on. You were watching Derek break down the crime scene, going through the motion of the more violent unsub, Raphael. “We checked that smudge for prints. Nothing. Looks like he wore some gloves,”

“That doesn’t make any sense at all,”

“It doesn’t?”

Two voices inserted themselves into the conversation at once, “Unsubs suffering from a psychopathy,” you hesitated glancing over at Spencer who just kept talking, ignoring the fact the two of you were saying the same thing.

“A delusion, like a message from God, is what we could classify as being disorganized. They don’t generally clean up after themselves.” He finished before turning his towards you with a soft grin. As Derek’s phone ran, he chewed on his nails “I’m sorry,”

“Spencer, it’s okay.” you chuckled before pointing at his hand “You’re chewing on your nails,” you stated with a tiny smile.

“Thinking,”

“When are you not, Pretty Boy?” you teased before Derek pulled your attention with the word ‘ viral’.

“Garcia, there’s a video of this murder posted on the internet?”

Great, so, the unsubs videoed the murder on the computer. That same computer is being accessed remotely by said unsubs and now that video is viral worldwide (according to Penelope) and people find it quote “pretty cool” end quote. You were sipping on a lukewarm cup of coffee as the team stared at the crime-ridden bulletin board. “At least one member of the team may believe he’s killing in the name of God,” you started, taking another sip from your coffee as Spencer finished your thought.

“Suggesting a psychopathy that should display extreme levels of disorganization,” he began to walk over to the bulletin board “Yet there are forensic countermeasures, and somebody in control enough to do complicated computer work.”

“One member of the team’s organized, the other is extremely disorganized, but what’s strange is that the one that we would consider as being most in control, the one that made that phone call, can’t seem to stop the other one from killing.” You added from your seat across from the bulletin.

Spencer nodded quickly before he took his turn to speak, “Usually the frenzied personality takes direction from a cooler head,” Spencer was still standing up by the board before he gave you a sweet smile. If everything wasn’t so tense, you were sure that Emily or Derek would have spoken up about how the two of you probably rehearsed that display, but sometimes it was like the two of you were so in sync that the two of you just bounced off of each other like this.

It was one of the things you loved about the team. You were told by Penelope that you were just a cooler, more feminine version of Spencer. That memory would have to wait as you listened to the team. You didn’t have enough, not enough to say anything for sure.

Now the team was dispersed, and you were watching Spencer bite into a rice crispy treat. Spencer looked up at the wrong moment and caught your gaze, a tiny smile rising to his lips as your cheeks turned red. “Hungry,” you muttered in a soft-mannered tone. It wasn’t a complete lie, your coffee was the only thing that was keeping you going and you could’ve used a good meal. It wasn’t the whole truth either, maybe you were just attracted to well-mannered men with a freak sense of super-intelligence. Great, so you were attracted to Mr. Freeze, get a grip. For a moment, some hopeful part of you wondered if Spencer was as attractive in color and a small voice inside of you said ‘go on, touch his hand’, and yet you kept them to yourself.

Spencer was searching his bag by the time you came back to your senses, pulling out another rice crispy treat and tossing it in your direction. You caught it with a broad smile before turning your attention over to JJ and Hotch as they talked about unsolved home invasions. “A prowler?” Spencer questioned as the three of you listened to JJ talk.

“The witness was walking his dog in a nearby park, going back to his car when he saw a man in dark clothing go over the back wall, and start sneaking up to the house. By the time state police go there, the prowler was gone.”

“Only one man?” Hotch asked.

“Apparently,”

“Was the witness able to describe him?” you asked JJ as you took a bite into the treat.

“If he did, it’s not in this case file.” She answered with a disappointing shake of her head.

“Is there a name and address for the witness?” Hotch asked quickly.

“Tobias Hankle. Lives about an hour from here.”

Now you were sitting in the backseat of a black SUV, driving an hour out to the middle of nowhere. If there was one thing you liked about the BAU the most it would be the astounding amount of black vehicles, with black leather interiors. It was things like these that made you feel less alone. Penelope had told you that the reason she liked playing with so many hair colors was so that people who could see color and people who couldn’t see color could always pick her out in a crowd. You remembered telling her that wasn’t the only reason, but she shushed you quickly.

You were watching Spencer fidget in his seat in the front, earning a smile from you in a second. You leaned out of your seat, close enough to whisper over to him “You okay?”

His head snapped towards you almost immediately, his face inches from yours. You pulled away, gripping onto the back of JJ’s seat as she drove. “Me? I just need to use the restroom. I can hold it I’m sure.”

Your foot wouldn’t stop tapping against the gravel outside of Tobias Hankle’s house. You were behind Spencer as he and JJ talked to him from the front steps. As they questioned him about witnessing the only lead they had so far, you watched his body language. Everything about Tobias screamed submissive. He was holding the door up by just a crack as JJ questioned him about the report. You frowned at his denial, finding it hard to believe someone wouldn’t remember calling 911. Unfortunately, people usually remember the day they give the police a call.

You walked beside JJ as she asked “Why bother calling the police in the first place if later, you’re just going to pretend you didn’t?” Your eyes locked with Spencer’s within a second as the two of you found the answer.

“To gauge a response time,”

“What?”

Spencer stuttered gently before he continued “If you’re going to kill somebody but you wanted to call the police first, what would you need to know?”

“How long it takes them to get there,” you replied softly, watching as Spencer ran around to the house’s side. “Reid!” you and JJ called after him, following suit. You stood next to JJ as that familiar feeling of dread washed over you again.

“Spencer,” you whispered his name in a harsh tone. Spencer looked over at you for a brief second before he continued to peep into the window of Tobias Hankle’s house. The rest of the noise after that fell into white noise as the three of you surrounded the barn door. It wasn’t until Spencer was getting up to wait out Tobias over on the other side of the barn, saying that Hotch would come looking for them.

You reached up to pull on his sleeve but he was already on the move and your fingers missed him by a millisecond. You stayed close to JJ as Spencer whispered something incomprehensible. “JJ,” you cried in the dark barn, a soft squishing sound emitting from your shoe. Her flashlight shined on a dog, then another and another, all three ready to charge. The two of you shrieked as they charged, shooting at the animals quickly.

It had been about forty minutes, according to JJ’s watch. She was still shaking, her eyes wide with shock. “JJ, they charged at us.” you attempted to console her softly, but you could tell by the way her breath hitched in her throat that it did very little. You grabbed her hand, squeezing it tight. Her hair was tousled and she had blood on her shirt, she looked crazed with those wide eyes and a gun in her hand.

The barn door opened and footsteps could be heard. Now it was your turn to panic, “FBI,” you screeched over the stack of hay you and JJ were crouched next to.

The next thing you knew, you and JJ were sitting next to each other with blankets wrapped around the two of you. Emily passed by you for a moment, your voice brought her back within seconds “Where’s Spencer?” you cried out.

You were too busy searching the house like a madwoman for Spencer to be having a mental breakdown; then again one could consider this a mental breakdown. There was a horrible twisting sensation in your stomach, turning and turning and turning till you couldn’t breathe, and then there was this crushing guilt. You should’ve pushed for backup, you should have gone with him, you should have shot Hankel the moment you saw him. Hotch was watching as you sat on the floor, dry heaving softly as he urged you to calm down.

You weren’t expecting his hand as it placed a firm grip on your shoulder. When did he get so close to the ground? You didn’t know, but he was speaking. “It’s going to be hard, but I need you to stay centered. Reid needs you to stay centered.”

You swallowed a thick sob back down your throat, nodding slowly. That’s right you weren’t a murderer, nor were you helpless. You were going to get him back.

After calming down, you were looking through journal entries with Hotch and Morgan. Your habit of chewing away at your bottom lip had caused a small cut to open, blood pooling before being licked away by you as the three of you had a breakthrough. Tobias Hankel was living as three people-- himself, his father, and Raphael.

This felt better, and then suddenly everything got so much worse. Hankel had started a stream, Spencer being the centerpiece and the BAU the audience. Everyone was talking at once, Morgan was muttering something violent, Emily and JJ were asking Penelope if she could track him, but you were just starting. It was hard to see everything, everything was in mortifying shades of grey, white and black. You tried to find solace in the fact that he was still alive, but a voice inside asked for how long?

You felt your chest tighten watching as Hankel told Spencer to choose a person to save. Under different circumstances, you would have laughed as Spencer said “You’re a sadist on a psychotic break.”, but it wasn’t funny when he was tied up and beaten. Eventually, your head turned to the side, facing the wall as Hankel screamed in his face. You wanted to scream back, you wanted to beg, you wanted to fight. You turned your head back towards the screen seconds after Hankel said the name and address, then the screen was black. A soft sob emitted from your lips as you held onto your chest for some sort of comfort.

It didn’t take much convincing for your stay behind as Hotch and Gideon left for the crime scene. JJ was torturing herself in the kitchen with Derek and you were sitting in a wooden chair next to Penelope. She held your hand when she had a spare moment, gave you a sad smile before saying “We can do this, right?”

You shot her back an equally weak smile, “Of course,”

Two weeks later, Spencer could tell that you were watching him. The conference room was full as the team discussed another case and yet the two people usually in sync were silent, true to their word. You watched him fidget, he made eye contact with you and you’d looked away. He felt ashamed, he felt dirty with your eyes on him. When he got rescued you stood in the back, tears streaming down your face, as a cascade of apologies fell out of your mouth and Spencer felt too ashamed to touch you. He felt too dirty to talk to you, too ruined to let you comfort him a week later.

You took this as a sign that he needed space. He was traumatized and he was hurting, you weren’t one to push. Well, you weren’t one to push with him. You didn’t think it was right, him being on the case, him being back out into the field so quickly, but you kept your mouth shut. Maybe this is what he needed, maybe you were pushing the boundary already, maybe you needed to take a step back.

You were watching Morgan and Prentiss interview Tonya, she was the not-so ex-girlfriend of one of the victims. You were chewing on your nails, as you watched the three of them. You knew that your mind should have been on the case, but Spencer kept running through your mind. You groaned gently, biting a little harder on your nail than intended before you focused on Tonya. She was jealous, but she wasn’t a killer, that was for sure.

You were staring at yet another bulletin board, your pen gently tapping on the table as you tried to think. Derek sat next to you “Have you seen Reid?” he asked, looking over your shoulder. You gave him a slight shake of the head before Hotch was asking the group in a louder voice, “Anybody seen Reid?”

There he was, with that guilty look all over his face again. You looked over Derek’s shoulder as he read over the coroner’s report. Your eyes moved from the report to Reid, report, Spencer, Report back to pretty boy. You watched as his breathing got shallow, staring down at the victim’s photo. You frowned a little as he snapped out of his little trance.

Spencer caught your gaze, frowned, and took a sip of coffee. He didn’t want to make it a habit to ignore you, that was the last thing he wanted. A little over a week ago all he wanted was to get closer to you, he liked impressing you, he liked being in sync with you, but now everything felt so wrong. It was like you could tell he had two little glass vials of dilaudid in his bag.

The flight back was when he first started acting differently towards you. You were sitting next to Derek laughing at his interaction between him and Emily before your head was turned towards Spencer again. “You all right?” Derek questioned.

“Reid,” you called gently.

“Hmm?”

“Derek asked if you were all right?”

“I’m fine,” there was a harrowing beat of silence “Thanks for broadcasting it.” he snapped at you gently. You felt your head real back in surprise before Derek was coming to your defense. You only smiled and placed a hand on Derek’s arm before mouthing “It’s okay” and standing up.

“If you’ll excuse me, Doctor.” you bit back, hating the taste that was left in your mouth as you walked away from the pair. You knew you shouldn’t have done that and now you were going to spend the rest of the flight kicking yourself that you did.

You were walking to your car when Spencer called out your name. You turned around quickly, watching as he caught up to you. “Listen, I’m sorry about earlier on the plane,” he started with a tiny pant.

Spencer watched as your lips turned up into a kind smile, watching as you let out a tiny relieved sigh, “I’m sorry I was so passive-aggressive,” you apologized quickly.

Spencer smiled at that and shook his head “I’ve been called worse in meaner tones,” he joked gently as you let out a tiny laugh, then your face shifted into something more serious. Spencer watched as you took your bottom lip into your mouth for a second, before looking him in the eyes.

“Are you okay?”

Spencer was starting to hate that question, he knew that if he talked to you about it, it was all going to come out. The flashbacks, the drug use, everything. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to think of something to say. “I talked to Derek,” he muttered softly.

Your worried eyes closed as you gave him a sweet smile “You don’t need to tell me everything, but,” you were suddenly digging into your purse looking for a pen and paper. Once found, you wrote down your phone number, “Give me a call if you ever need anything.” you said holding out the slip of paper towards Spencer.

Spencer took the paper with a smile, running his thumb over the numbers quickly. “Thank you,”

“Of course, we need you around. I need you around for rice crispy treats, but also because I can’t be the only one that Morgan is making fun of.”

Spencer laughed at that and nodded, “Of course,”

“Goodnight, Spencer.”

“Goodnight.”

You would love to lie and say that you didn’t feel old as you watched Spencer from your chair next to the podium as he talked about paraphilias and their relation to violent crime. You were just a little older than him, but good god how was he still so bad at public speaking at almost 30? You leaned over to Emily, whispering an excuse to use the restroom as you walked toward the back of the room, grabbing a drink as Spencer asked “Does anybody know what dendrophilia is?”

You frowned a little at the dead crowd before you spoke up from the back “A fetish for trees!” Then you took a sip of your drink as people glanced over at you. Spencer’s face broke out into a smile as he looked at you.

“Yes, a fetish for trees,” he repeated. You saw the way Emily shook her head at you as Spencer continued. You mouthed an offended ‘what?’ before you stayed glued to the wall. Sometimes when you stood back to admire him like this, you felt truly foolish. You were harboring a crush on Spencer all these years and he wasn’t even your soulmate. You were sure that the two of you had touched before, but black and white still graced your vision.

Disappointed wasn’t the correct word for it, you were downright upset. Emily and Penelope had listened to rant after rant about how pretty Spencer was and how upsetting it was that he wasn’t yours. Emily suggested that you just ask him out nonetheless. You frowned at that suggestion every time without fail before saying, “Why would he go out with me when I’m not his soulmate?”

You’d been on dates, sure, but every time your hands touched with the stranger, the overwhelming feeling of disappointment that came after was depressing. It was okay back in high school and college, you didn’t have time to focus on your soulmate, too much was going on, but now? Now, your mother would call you and say “You know me and your father didn’t know we were made for each other till a month down the road,” but that was because your father was a germaphobe who didn’t like shaking hands.

You stole a glance at Emily talking to a small group as you made your way towards Spencer, who was looking hopelessly lost amongst the crowd. “Hey, Mr. Guest speaker.” you joked softly as you stood beside him.

“Haha,”

“Come on, you did great!”

“You were the only responsive audience member,”

“You started with a fetish for trees, Spencer.”

“They’re interesting!”

You covered your mouth as you laughed, eyes trailing over to everyone else in the room. “Hey,” Spencer said, “Want to get out of here?”

“Of course I do,” you responded as the two of you made a bee-line for the exit. You were about to say something about his upcoming birthday, when a young man stopped the two of you, talking to Spencer in an excited tone. You watched Spencer’s face, his eyes becoming brighter as the two of them spoke. You loved it when he got excited like this, it reminded you of how he was when he was younger when you were younger.

“Nanovex,” you repeated to Spencer in an excited tone as Emily approached.

“Who was that?”

“That was the founder of Nanovex,”

“I’ve never heard of it.”

“They make magnetically responsive nanoparticles for targeted drug delivery to tumor cells.”

“Still never heard of it,”

“You will, it’s gonna change the world.” he finished before he was on the move again. Emily walked beside you, pointing to Spencer.

“Fetish for trees?”

You scoffed gently, stuttering as you fought to find a response “He’s not good with public speaking, you remember what Rossi said about the existentialist joke.”

“It’s a great joke,” Spencer called from up ahead the two of you. You smiled wide and nodded quickly as Emily just sighed and kept walking.

Ever since you decided that there was no possible way Spencer could be your soulmate you tried your hardest not to touch him. You didn’t like to get your hopes up and you sure as hell weren’t going to touch him when he obviously didn’t like being touched. You stuffed your hands into your pockets as Spencer’s phone rang. You tilted your head to get into his field of vision, “New case?” you mouthed, earning a small nod from him. So much for his surprise birthday plans.

When the three of you arrived at the crime scene you were already frowning. You never liked crime scenes, for obvious reasons of course, but that never stopped you from making some astute observations. Spencer, as usual, was the first one to make a statement that surprised everyone, “It’s not the real Zodiac,”

Sometimes you wondered why he was so hard to get over, maybe it was that big brain of his, or maybe his sharp wit. You were already smiling as Spencer interrupted a man talking to the news, “Excuse me, I’m Dr. Spencer Reid with the Behavioral Analysis Unit, was your cousin by chance a fan of Wagner? Because a CD of the “Tragic Overture” was sent to the police this morning.”

The man started to smile, nodding with excitement. It was people like him that made you hate society sometimes, why couldn’t people mourn the deaths of others peacefully? Why was there always somebody looking for some kind of reward? Is being related to a serial killer a reward? It is if it gets you on t.v. and that seems to be good enough for some people. “He loved Wagner, especially the “Tragic Overture”, it’s him!”

“Oh yeah. Well, for the record a CD was not sent to the police station this morning, and the “Tragic Overture” was written by Brahms, not Wagner, so luckily, I guess it’s not your cousin!” You were covering your mouth to hide your smile as Spencer continued. “The FBI would greatly appreciate it if people would stop making false claims to get their 15 minutes of fame. Thank you, thank you very much.”

You were rushing over to Spencer’s side laughing freely next to him, “I love it when you’re sassy,”

“I’m not sassy, I just hate seeing people extort tragedy for their benefit.”

“I know, I hate it too.” You looked over at Spencer as he opened the door for you, right this is what made him so hard to get over.

Spencer had requested a paper list of all the comments left online from this morning’s paper and you were busy looking for new comments on the actual website and now you were camping in the dark with the rest of your coworkers in the middle of Golden Gate Park. Spencer corrected you on the way over and said “It’s more of a stakeout,”

To which your only reply at the time was, “San Francisco camping is the term I prefer,” at that he only gave you a brilliant smile and a shake of the head.

You leaned into your walkie “No one at the south entrance yet,”

“Copy that,”

You had this twisting feeling in your gut again, Morgan one time joked that you only got it when something was about to happen to ‘Pretty Boy’, the memory made you think about it some more. He wasn’t wrong, every time something bad was about to happen to Spencer you would get this horrible feeling of anxiety in the pit of your stomach. As a vehicle approached the team moved in, and unfortunately, the feeling was correct, the man had a letter from the unsub to Spencer.

You were at the station, chewing on your lip gently as you stared at a calendar. Spencer’s birthday had just passed, you had this big thing all planned out as soon as you both got back from the conference but everything was put on hold with this zodiac copycat case. Hotch was watching you mutter to yourself, looking between crime scene photos and then the calendar on the wall. Whenever he looked at you he felt this overwhelming feeling of fatherly pride, it was similar to how he felt about Reid sometimes.

Hotch sat down at the desk across from you and gave you a quick smile, “Having a breakthrough?”

“Huh,” you pulled away from the photos, frowning as you processed his words “No, it’s stupid I shouldn’t be thinking about it on the case at all,”

“If something is on your mind, I can always listen.”

You smiled at him as you smoothed out your shirt with a gentle sigh “The other day was Reid’s birthday and I had this whole thing planned for him but now it’s past and I think he thinks I forgot. I didn’t, but now I’m scared that if I bring it up he’s only going to think it’s because I forgot.” your voice came out fast, letting out a defeated sigh as you slumped down into a chair.

Hotch blinked at you before saying, “It was Reid’s birthday?”

You were watching Spencer sit in a chair with his legs crossed, his beautiful mind trying to crack whatever code he was latched onto now. Overkill with women, high IQ, this unsub was tricky. Emily had told you that Spencer and she had a moment earlier about expectations, she then asked you if you knew that his birthday had just passed. You knew he must’ve thought that you’d forgotten.

He was going through photo after photo now. “Spence, you okay?” JJ asked from the back of the room.

“Nothing is accidental. Nothing this unsub does is accidental. The message in the “China Weekly Post” was on page F-4. Why F-4?”

“That’s where the classifieds were,” You said, resting your head on your palm as you leaned against the desk.

“It’s more than that,”

You were now hunched over a computer with the rest of the team as a man followed Spencer’s orders, your head leaned against Emily’s shoulder as Spencer explained that the unsub is using a chess game to murder. Garcia, the godsend that she is, was able to narrow it down to two best friends, former chess players, high IQs, and true crime consumers. Now, you were in the backseat with Spencer as Hotch and Morgan stayed up in the front.

“One of them stole the photo left at the first crime scene,” JJ said over the phone.

“It had to be Caleb, the message ‘you could do so much better’ in the Chinese paper was meant for Harvey.”

“That means the original spam message was for him, too,” you said as you leaned forward in your seat. It was moments that you loved, the initial breakthrough was good but the breaking down was satisfying, something in your soul screamed for it.

“How did Caleb know that Harvey wouldn’t turn him in?” Derek asked from the front, his brows creasing with worry.

“Caleb has something on him, or,” Spencer looked over at you as the two of you spoke in unison, oh that’s why your soul screamed for it because he was looking at you with those eyes again; clear, bright, and focused. “He’s holding the fiancee hostage.” Spencer finished with a turn of his head.

You were heading into the abandoned restaurant on Spencer’s tail, breaking away as your group got closer to the hostage situation at hand. You were still close, but hiding in between racks of unused kitchen equipment as Spencer talked to Caleb. It wasn’t long before Caleb was dropping the gun and Harvey and he were locked up in cuffs.

Spencer stepped out of the elevator when Prentiss caught his attention, “Hey Reid, um, Hotch wants to talk to you.” she said as she folded her hands, earning a small groan from his throat. “What’s wrong?”

“He probably wants to talk to me about why I’ve been kind of weird lately.” He said with a tight-lipped smile.

“You are making a difference, you know, one person at a time.” Emily comforted him, earning a sweet smile in response. He was happy that he opened up to her, happy that she reached out. The elevator made a soft ding as you stepped out with a coffee cup in hand, your lips moved to say something, but Spencer just watched as you waved over at him before heading in.

“Thank you. You know, I’ve been thinking a lot lately about why I stayed after Gideon left,” his eyes stayed trained on your for a second before he continued “Why I didn’t take any of those other offers.” His eyes moved back over to Emily as she smiled up at him.

“Nothing is accidental,”

Spencer nodded slowly, “And then I realized, I don’t know, there’s something incredibly right about being here,” his head turned over towards where you were, but you were out of sight now as he finished his thought. “With you guys,”

“Well, I’m glad to hear that,” Emily placed a hand onto his back as the two of them walked together, “Otherwise, this would have been really awkward.”

“What would have been really awkward?” He asked as Emily pushed the door to Hotch’s office open. Overlapping cheers of ‘Happy Birthday’ greeted Spencer, a smile hooking onto his face as everyone greeted him in their own special way. He was playfully wiping the kisses on his cheek from Rossi as you held a small chocolate cake out towards him, the candles lit on it read out ‘30’. Spencer leaned forward and blew out the candles with a tiny laugh as everyone cheered.

You were sitting in a chair with a wrapped-up scarf under your thigh, too nervous to leave it out on the table when Spencer approached with a plate of chocolate cake. “Spencer I already had a piece,” you whined as you took it off of his hands.

“It was a tiny piece,” he countered with a smile as he sat down across from you. The room was clearing out slowly as Hotch and Prentiss cleaned up cups and plates with muted conversation. You looked down, frowning at the grey packaging peeking out from under your thigh. “Emily told me that you set this up,” Spencer said as he bit into some cake.

“I had something else planned, but I hated the idea of you thinking that everyone forgot about your birthday.”

“Thank you,” Spencer said with a grin, butterflies hitting your stomach in a heart-wrenching wave as you set the plate down onto the table.

“I made you something,” you said, pulling the gift out from under you quickly before setting it in front of Spencer. “Tell me if you like it, please.”

Spencer gave you a playful glare before he was tearing into the gift, the scarf was a solid grey with an inscription on one side, small enough to go unnoticed if he wasn’t holding it the right way. “A star danced, under that I was born, - William Shakespeare” he read the white cursive aloud with a grin, looking up at you.

“Penelope told me the yarn used for the scarf is red and the writing is in gold, so I kind of just trusted her.”

“I didn’t know you could knit,”

“It’s a hobby that I recently got into, yeah,” you licked your lips quickly before a nervous laugh escaped you. Spencer’s smile only bloomed as he put the scarf on. “Spencer, we’re inside.” you laughed sweetly at the gesture.

“I love it too much, I have to wear it wherever I go now,” A small giggle erupted from you as watched him maneuver the scarf to fit fashionably on his neck. “How do I look?”

“Handsome,” you replied with another laugh as you leaned forward to grab an end of the scarf, tugging on it playfully. “Take it off, before you overheat.”

Spencer laughed gently with you as his hand came up to grab yours, but just before his hands could touch yours, you pulled away. Spencer frowned a bit at that, messing with the end of his scarf nervously as he asked “I notice you always do that,”

“Do what?”

“You’ve never let me touch you,”

You laughed gently at that, that was impossible, the two of you had been friends for so long. How could you not have accidentally touched Spencer before? “What? You’re lying, we’ve touched before, I’m sure.”

“No, we haven’t.”

“Yes, we have.”

“Let me remind you that I have an eidetic memory, not to brag, but usually I’m not wrong about these things,” Spencer joked with a tight smile. You stared at him, trying to think, to remember a time where the two of you touched, but it never came.

“No, No, that can’t be right,” you muttered to yourself as Spencer laughed softly.

“I just thought you were a germaphobe, like your dad, but you let everyone else touch you. I didn’t want to cross a line,”

You took a turn to laugh, shaking your head side to side at that, “I thought you didn’t want me touching you because you’re a bit of a germaphobe and I didn’t want to cross any lines,” you laughed out as Emily came over to the table. You were handing her your plate, not thinking twice about wasting the cake as you continued to laugh. It sounded so silly out loud.

Spencer was watching you laugh, his smile growing as he heard those perfect giggles tumble out of those sweet lips. He stood up, quickly gathered any of his trash, and put it into the bag that Emily was holding. He turned to you once she walked away, “Let’s clean up and talk about this in the parking lot?”

You nodded before getting to work, it felt nerving, the idea of meeting up with Spencer in the parking lot, like you had a date. Was he going to try and touch you? Would you see how pretty his eyes were, to quote Penelope? Derek said that he had hazel eyes and that they weren’t that pretty, but you couldn’t help but feel your stomach twist with anticipation.

You and Spencer stood on opposite ends of the elevator with Emily and Aaron in between, the two of them were making conversation so it gave you some more time to mull it over. Would Spencer make a good soulmate? Sure, you dreamt about him all the time and you were always telling the girls that he would be the perfect soulmate, but that doesn’t mean he actually would be perfect, right?

Then again, you were getting ahead of yourself. There was a good chance that he wasn’t your soulmate at all, he was your friend, one of your best friends, this wasn’t going to change anything. You were waving goodbye to Emily when the knot inside of your throat grew. Your head turned towards Spencer, he wasn’t smiling, but he was looking at you with those kind eyes, the kind that made your knees weak.

“How should we,” you trailed off, making hand motions that made little sense as you felt your face heat up.

“We could close our eyes?”

“And?”

“Touch?” Spencer said he felt the sudden need to be romantic, spontaneous, to impress you. If you weren’t his soulmate, well he wasn’t ready to feel that kind of disappointment yet, but he at least wanted you to think of him as a romantic.

You laughed nervously at that, nodding slowly, “Here’s the plan, we take in one last glance and then get close enough to touch and close our eyes and just,” you clapped in a dramatic way “Get on with it!”

Spencer was nodding now, smiling like a mad man as he took a step closer to you. “Okay, Okay,” he paused, watching as you pull at your bottom lip with anxiety, “Will you tell me if I look bad in color?”

You relaxed a little at that, giving him a playful glare “I don’t think you can look bad, Spencer.”

“Are you ready?” He asked, god he could smell your laundry detergent, that crisp and clean scent with a hint of citrus, and then all of the sudden he felt like a child. Was it childish wanting to know who your soulmate is? Maybe he felt nervous, he was scared that it wouldn’t be you. He wanted it to be you. He wanted to know the color of your skin, the color of your hair, your lips, he wanted to pick out colors with you for his apartment, he wanted to have faith.

“Okay, let me look at you in black and white,” you whispered, looking up at him with a grin. He looked so nervous and you were sure that you looked the same. A cool breeze of fall air moved between the two of you, as you took a deep breath, nodding with determination. “Close them,” You instructed with a soft crack in your voice, watching as Spencer smiled and closed his eyes, peeking to catch you staring.

“Go on,”

“Right,” you said, closing your eyes tight standing there for a second before asking “Are your eyes closed?”

“Yes,”

You could feel your hand shaking as you reached out for him, grabbing onto the fabric of his jacket, pulling him closer to you “Closer,” you muttered nervously, feeling Spencer trip over himself, shoes bumping yours as he got close to you. “Hand, please,” you begged gently, tapping onto his chest softly, waiting with closed eyes for his fingers to meet yours.

Spencer met your hand on his chest, taking a second as he intertwined your fingers together and gave it a gentle squeeze. He felt lightheaded, maybe it was all that chocolate cake or maybe it was because he wanted you so badly. He would pray for you if it meant that he got to be with you. “Let me know when,” he said as the two of you were holding hands, he could feel your thumb tracing his knuckles nervously, shaking under his own.

You breathed deeply for a second before giving Spencer’s hand a tight squeeze “Okay, on my count,” you felt a shaky breath leave your lungs “One, Two,” Prepare, prepare for disappointment, don’t let him see you sad, he can’t see you cry, he can’t. “Open,” you finished.

When Spencer opened his eyes he was met with a cascade of colors, he could see the color of your hair in the moonlight, a pale blue illuminating you beautifully. You were stunning, the world was stunning. He waited for you to open your eyes, but you stayed there with your eyes glued shut. He didn’t notice it until now, your whole body was shaking, his hand left yours, both hands cupping your face nervously. “Hey, hey, hey, what’s wrong?”

“I’m so scared, and I don’t want you to see me cry if you aren’t my soulmate. I want you to be my soulmate so bad, I want it so bad, Spencer.”

He felt the smile growing on his face, fighting it miserably, “Just trust me, open your eyes.” His voice was soft as you rubbed soft circles against your cheeks. He watched as your face relaxed slowly, you held your breath for a second as you opened your left eye to peek up at him, earring a quick laugh from Spencer in the process.

Your eyes snapped open when you saw him, standing there with pretty hazel eyes and a messy head of brown hair, he was breathtaking. Your hands grabbed his face quickly, laughing loudly with joy. You were so happy, you could cry. Your hands fell to his shoulders, head hitting his chest with another giggle “This isn’t real, this is a dream,”

Spencer felt himself hesitate for a moment before his head was resting against yours with a pleasant smile on his face, “Let’s hope we never wake up then,”

You moved your head off of Spencer’s chest, looking up at him with a giddy smile “I’ve dreamt of you all my life,” you whispered, watching the way Spencer’s cheeks turned a gentle pink.

“Can I,” he trailed off for a second, his hand finding its way to your cheek “Can I kiss you?”

You laughed at that, nodding quickly, not giving him a second to prepare before you were pulling on his shirt, pulling him into a kiss with all the passion in your body. Spencer Reid was your soulmate and you were going to spend the rest of your life with him, nothing felt more certain.

369 notes · View notes

it-was-summer · 3 years

Note

Hi, how are you doing? I hope you're fine, have a nice day/evening 🤗

I am doing great! Much better than I was in January of this past year! So long as writing doesn’t hurt my grades this semester, I plan on writing a little more this semester. Thanks for asking, how are you doing and thank you for the sweet message.

2 notes · View notes

it-was-summer · 3 years

Note

Hi! Me again, so soon I know. Hope you won't get annoyed by my requests but its the end of semester and I kinda take anything I can get to keep me sane around this time.

I am very partial to Cinderella AUs. I read them, i write them. They're just my favorite thing ever especially with different types of characters that are very different to the Canon.

So I was wondering, could you maybe write one with Five and Reader? It doesn't have to be exactly to the movies plot and the characterization would obviously be loyal to the shows. It could be a modern "fits with Canon verse" AU where Five and Reader fall in love and Reader loses something and Five gets it back to her. Or it could be historical/fantasy AU (i would lowkey prefer if you did this one) like the movie where the Hargreeves are royals and Five is a prince who meets Reader and then they fall in love but he has to find her somehow after the ball. I'm not picky at all whichever version you choose as long as it's a general Cinderella AU (with a dash of nosy Hargreeves chaos) and I'm sure you'll do it justice.

I may or may not have a couple more requests but I'll only send them in if you're feeling up to them. For now just this is enough and feel free to take your time.

Thank you so much in advance! 😊❤️

Hello my dear! I am so sorry that it took me so long to get this out to you, but I hope you like it and I hope that you enjoy the long read. Love you lots, em <3

3 notes · View notes

it-was-summer · 3 years

Text

Kiss Me Once...Kiss Me Twice (18! Five x Fem!Reader)

Requested: Yes! I’ve been away for so long and college has got me in chokehold so I really hope you all forgive me as I get around to your request! The two of you are 18 in this fic, just to specify)

Plot: Hi! Me again, so soon I know. Hope you won't get annoyed by my requests but its the end of semester and I kinda take anything I can get to keep me sane around this time.I am very partial to Cinderella AUs. I read them, i write them. They're just my favorite thing ever especially with different types of characters that are very different to the Canon.So I was wondering, could you maybe write one with Five and Reader? It doesn't have to be exactly to the movies plot and the characterization would obviously be loyal to the shows. It could be a modern "fits with Canon verse" AU where Five and Reader fall in love and Reader loses something and Five gets it back to her. Or it could be historical/fantasy AU (i would lowkey prefer if you did this one) like the movie where the Hargreeves are royals and Five is a prince who meets Reader and then they fall in love but he has to find her somehow after the ball. I'm not picky at all whichever version you choose as long as it's a general Cinderella AU (with a dash of nosy Hargreeves chaos) and I'm sure you'll do it justice.I may or may not have a couple more requests but I'll only send them in if you're feeling up to them. For now just this is enough and feel free to take your time.Thank you so much in advance! 😊❤️ @oceanspray5

Word Count: 10,234, I uhhhh went a little crazy, this took up 23 pages in my google docs!

Heads turned in awe, in awe of the beauty, for the crowd had never seen a more handsome couple. Two masks covered their identities, but anyone could look into their eyes and see; see the love they shared for one another. Hands laying over each other as they whisked each other gracefully to the dance floor, their smiles illuminated the room as they danced.

Everyone always talked about that night, talked about how in love they were; your parents. You knew they were in love in a less glamorous way, a less fairytale way. Your father would be walking by the garden, stopping to steal a glance at your mother, as she tended to the garden. You noticed how your mother, even in the worst of moods, always smiled around your father. Their relationship taught you to love and how to be kind, but it also taught you sorrow.

Around age ten is when tragedy struck, your mother had fallen ill one day. She laid in bed for weeks, chills passing through her constantly, her body growing weaker and weaker with every passing day. At first, your mother didn’t want you to see her condition, she wanted her only daughter to be filled with happiness, but in the end, she let you see her.

Tears distorted your vision as you looked down at her pale figure, missing the glow it had meer months ago. She showed you her best smile, head swimming with things to say, she couldn’t exactly choose her last words for you. Your mother grabbed your hand, pulling you closer. “Darling,” her voice was weak, but still so full of love. “Can you remember something for me?”

Your head nodded instantly, tears shaking loose from your eyes quickly. She gave you another weak smile, finding the energy to let out a laugh. “Good,” her hand slipped for a second, “I want you to remember the golden rules.”

“The golden rules,” you repeated, you knew what they were, there were three.

“Can you tell me the golden rules?”

“Yes,” you held her hand tighter as it slipped down further. “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you, have courage, and be kind.” you finished, watching a pained smile grow on your mother’s face. She let out a tiny gasp, trying to breathe through her pain, her hand squeezing yours.

“Good,” she gasped, relaxing a little in the bed. “I want you to remember those rules, even if I’m not here to remind you.”

You felt her grip weaken, your father pulled you away from her as you sobbed, pushing you out of the room quickly as your mother slowly died.

It had been eight years since then, and thankfully your sorrow was replaced with the bittersweet feeling of acceptance. You remembered the rules, you remembered your mother, and you created new memories with your father and the cottage.

The sun was shining brightly onto the cottage, rising above the peaks of the roof carefully, dew dripping off of the grass slowly. It was summer and the world was saying a beautiful ‘hello’. Staring out the narrow stone window, you spotted him, your father. Excitement became you as you moved off of your bed, running around the cottage till you got out the front door, running out to meet him.

Your father halted the horse he was riding, sliding off the seat with a small grunt, a smile decorating his face at the sight of you. You were a young woman, beautiful like your mother, and if he was being honest, it was terrifying to see so much of her in you.

“Father,” laughter escaped you as he wrapped his arms around you “You’re home early.”

He pulled away, walking over to his saddlebag “Since when is this a problem?” he joked kindly, earning a shrug from you. “I have some news for you,” he pulled an item from his bag and then ushered you inside quickly “My dear, I’ve fallen in love.”

“In love?”

“Yes, she’s a lovely woman, with two lovely daughters and I’m going to marry her.”

“Oh,” you let the initial shock settle over you as you stared up at him “I’m so happy for you, Papa!”

You could see the way his eyes lit up upon hearing your acceptance and yet you felt a tugging sensation in your gut, you were sure it was nerves. They had to be since your father-- the trustworthy man he is-- said that these women were lovely, you were sure that they were just that, lovely.

They were not. Elinor was the youngest and the kinder of the three. She never did anything vile, but she also never did anything to stop their torment. Jane was the eldest daughter, beautiful and deadly-- similar to a belladonna flower-- if looks could kill, you would drop dead. Then there was the Baroness, Constance of Blodwell, a cruel woman. They say that the dearly departed Baron died of natural causes, but you wouldn’t be surprised if she was lying.

When they first arrived Father kissed her hand, bought the sisters imported silks and threw uncharacteristically loud parties. He seemed so happy, so who were you to judge his happiness? If he wanted to buy silks, let him buy silks. If he wanted to throw loud parties, then he shall throw loud parties, and you? You would bite your tongue and smile at him. You could tell him to be safe and that you loved him.

During the day the Baroness would watch you read on the windowsill as she played with her needlepoint, setting it down to say “A young lady shouldn’t read so much, it will fill her head with silly nonsense, confuse her.”

You told her you agreed but found needlework wasn’t your strong suit and she would let out a huff, and that is where the conversation would end for the hour.

It started as small things. The Baroness found your boyish antics disgusting, so you were taught to be more ladylike. Jane would blame you for messing with the piano as she hit broken keys over and over again. Elinor would stare, smile at you, and drink her tea. Your father was away, working harder than ever to provide for his suddenly large family of young women.

It was no secret to the royal family that they were strange. Five was a little convinced every family had some deep-rooted issues. As is tradition, the mages ruled over the kingdom; protecting the people and possessing incredible powers of all kinds.

His siblings, mostly married off to other obscenely powerful families, all possessed powers. Vanya was a late-bloomer, but the musicians helped her powers reach their full potential. He could go down the list, but thinking about the others was somewhat exhausting, but it did let his mind escape elsewhere as he sat in another council meeting with his father.

He was listening, hearing talk of peace and plans for the upcoming fall harvest and other important things. He could feel his father’s eyes on him, on the crown prince, how becoming. Five turned his head, raising an eyebrow at his father as he was greeted with the usual frown, great so he didn’t miss anything.

As men and women bid their farewells, Five was left alone with the servants and King Reginald Hargreeves. “You weren’t listening during today’s meeting,”

“Yes, I was,”

“Don’t lie to me,”

“I was only thinking of the dear siblings and their wellbeing, all good things.”

His father’s frown somehow deepened before he shook his head “Five, you’re crown prince because I made you crown prince, do you know why?”

“It’s fun to make me miserable?”

“It’s because you know how hard it is to have responsibilities, I expect you to be better than them.” And with that, he walks out of the room. Better than them? All of them? It seemed a little bit much for an eighteen-year-old, but he guessed that being a crown prince was all about having the burden of trying to outshine the stars.

It was just before dawn, the sky was turning a beautiful indigo, sleep evading you as you waited outside the cottage. Your father was away once more and was due yesterday, but he never showed. Horrible knots twisted against the walls of your stomach, ruining your appetite. You had a horrible feeling that he wasn’t coming home. That he wasn’t going to come back from London. The knots gave way as you heard the sound of hooves beating against the gravel. You peer through the early morning catching his eyes in a moment of pure bliss. He was okay and you could breathe again.

He was paler than usual, the sick shade of exhaustion mixed with the summer heat. In the sitting room, Jane was fretting over one of her newer dresses that had a gold appliqué on the trim and Elinor was nodding along wordlessly. Father was holding Constance’s hand and her eyes seemed tender for the first time in months.

You were sitting there, watching them with a smile. Constance was no mother to you, nor was she a friend but she seemed to love your father, or at least care about him deeply.

He spent the next week recovering, to which he seemed well enough by the end of the week and then he was off again. The whole family stood outside in the early morning, Constance whispering something in your father’s ear, earning her a smile before he turned to you with open arms. “You shouldn’t be working, you’re still sick.” You muttered into his shoulder with a frown.

“I know, but this job is big and I can’t afford to pass it by,”

“Will I see you next week?”

“Yes,”

“Okay,” you said, pulling away reluctantly from his embrace. You watched as he straddled his saddle and smiled up at him as he started to make his way out. Your eyes didn’t leave him, and maybe that’s why you were the first to scream when you saw him fall off. “Papa!”

Your legs moved on their own, running out to him, being followed closely behind by Constance as she screamed his name in sobs, and just like that he was gone. You watched as they lowered his body into the ground, dressed in black from head to toe in the middle of a July afternoon.

Five didn’t enjoy getting in trouble, because if he could just stop himself from getting caught he wouldn’t be in trouble. Sure, with a flash of blue he could be out of the room or out of the palace, but eventually, he would come back. He was the crown prince after all and with no money on the run, where would he go? He would be recognized immediately and in the end, it would all be useless. So here he was, getting yelled at by his father again.

After an hour-long lecture from his father he was left alone once again and against his better judgment, as soon as he was left alone, he left the palace again. Blue flashes lit up the woods for a second and then they were gone and Five was standing in the middle of a quiet forest. He didn’t like to leave the palace to visit brothels or to go into town to see how the commonwealth lived, he just wanted some time alone.

From the moment he woke up it was Five this or Five that, meetings, classes, or lectures. He just needed a break from it all, he needed a break from the responsibilities, no matter the repercussions.

Five drew in a deep breath, smiling as the smell of fresh pine and earth filled his senses. The sounds of a nearby creek drew his attention, his feet following the sound till he stood at the bank. The child in him was eager to jump in and splash about, most likely getting his clothes absolutely soaked in the process, but the adult inside of him screamed that it was a bad idea. Instead, he simply sat on the loose gravel near the bank and watched as the water rushed by at a slow pace.

It had been a little over a month since your father passed, and what a hard month it had been. The baroness had you change rooms, moving you into the cold, dusty, damp, dark attic. When it rained little drops of water would splash on your brows and leave you awake for hours on end.

A humble voice deep inside whispered ‘you should be grateful’ and the fire that raged right next to it roared to fight back, so you simply did nothing. You were obedient, calm in every scenario. If she wanted you to scrub the floors, you scrubbed. There wasn’t a day that went by where she wasn’t asking you to do something.

So you couldn’t comprehend why you were sneaking out like this, in a clean dress and basket filled to the brim with cheese, bread, and fruits. You were supposed to be good, good for your mother, and good for your father. Well, that woman wasn’t your mother anyway so what was the point?

Your pace slowed as you thought about the consequences. Would she throw you out? She was the lady of the house, she had all the power. You were of age, but with no marriage, no prospects, and no money, what good would being homeless do? You turned your head back towards the cottage for a second before you set off towards the creek. This was just a short break after all.

You didn’t initially see him until your feet were already in the water, and the hem of the dress was considerably soaked. His eyes grew wide at the sight of you, his mouth moving in a thousand different shapes before he finally got some words out from those pretty lips, “Who are you?”

“I’m,” you paused, you didn’t know this man, was it smart to give him your name? “I’m Ella!” You practically shouted back in response, earning a small wince from the boy in front of you.

“What are you doing here?” he hissed, his eyes glancing down at your feet before quickly darting back up to meet yours.

“Do you own the river?”

“Well,” he trailed off, chewing on his bottom lip with worry.

“Well?”

“Well, no.”

“Perfect, then I am soaking my feet.”

“Why?”

You laughed gently and kicked up some water at him, “Because it’s fun.” you replied softly, stepping away from him quickly. “Why are you here?”

“Why are you asking?” he challenged, jumping as a few drops of water hit his pants.

“You asked me.”

“Oh, right,” he said, eyeing the basket in your hands, feeling his mouth water as a small slice of cheese peaked through the cloth atop of the basket. “Well, I suppose I’m just here for fun. The same as you.”

“Right,” you replied with a gentle chuckle as you stepped out of the creek, a pleasant breeze moved through your hair as you looked back over towards the boy. “The thing is, you don’t look like you’re having a lot of fun.”

His eyebrows rose in surprise before coming together in a judgemental glare, “And how would you know if I’m having fun?”

You eyed him up and down with a playful smirk at your lips, “You have the face of someone who lights up when they’re truly enjoying themselves.”

His face relaxed at that and a small smile stretched across his face gracefully, small butterflies ate away at your insides when you saw that smile. You should’ve known then. “So,” you quickly interrupted the moment “Do you have a name, or are you a nameless spirit?”

“I have a name!”

“Wonderful, mind if I learn it?”

His eyes searched the waters, earning a smile from you as you realized he was probably going to do the same thing as you did. “It’s Phillip,” he lied lamely, his body betrayed him, almost yelling at him for telling the lie, but you still accepted it.

“Lovely, are you hungry?”

Five was playing with the ends of the blanket beneath him, wondering silently how he ended up here, sitting next to a pretty girl as you talked about what you liked most about the Summertime. He smiled hearing your laugh, a sweet melody that made the world just a little brighter.

He watched you as you pulled a small piece of bread off of the loaf, finding himself watching as you popped it into your mouth, eyes catching on your lips for a second before he ripped them away.

Five felt his knees go weak at a romantic thought, he wasn’t supposed to have romantic thoughts, he didn’t have a romantic bone in his body. Well, he never thought romance could be on the table, not like this. He knew that he was setting himself up for failure by having feelings for you, and he wouldn’t dare call them that, he was just feeling… infatuation, yes!

It was infatuation, of course! The kind of thing that makes princes fall to commoner and the thing that made kings go to war, but Five wasn’t going to be a tragic tale. However, what was the harm in indulging in a small little crush?

“Phillip?” The fake name made his head turn.

“Yes, Ella?”

“Did you hear what I said?”

“I, uh, no.”

“I was saying that we should be friends,” you explained with a nervous smile, Five couldn’t stop the smile growing on his face.

“Friends?”

“I mean if you don’t want to, I understand!”

“No,” he all but yelled, clearing his throat quickly as he shook his head, “No, I would love to be your friend.”

“Really?”

“Yes,” he said, placing a hand over yours, trying to ignore the electricity that was tingling at his fingertips.

“Oh,” you looked at your hands and let out another nervous laugh, a lump rising into your throat as you let out a strangled “Lovely.”

“Yes, lovely,” he repeated as your eyes met his for a moment. Five didn’t feel like himself for a moment, it was as if he was watching the scene unfold from across the creek. Your eyes were wide and were glued to his as you opened your mouth quickly to speak, to say anything.

Against his will, he slowly moved his hand away from yours, missing the heat instantly as he stood up slowly, brushing himself off. “I should be getting back,” he muttered.

You heard yourself say something along the lines of ‘yes’ and ‘of course’ as he walked away, throwing a small smile over his shoulder before he disappeared into the bush.

Five’s heart was racing when he blimped back into his room, the teleportation never took a toll on him, he was fine, so why was he finding it so hard to breathe? It was a terrible feeling of restlessness that consumed him as soon as he calmed down.

He wanted to go out. He wanted to walk by the creek. He wanted to see you again, god he burned to see you again. He flexed his hand gently, trying to ignore the sensation that lingered against his palm.

He was pacing now, thinking, muttering, and sighing heavily. He was apathetic, for the most part snarky, but overall very solid. He didn’t need people prying into how he was feeling and he didn’t want to explain his feelings to people, but today might be the first day that his hard exterior is experiencing a little crack.

He jumped hearing a knock on his door, “His Majesty wishes to see you,” there was a pause “Now.”

Right, right, right, his father would never approve of anything as frivolous as his feelings. “Be right there,” he called back to the servant at the door as he stole a look in the mirror, looking for evidence that would place him in the woods. Evidence that would point to you. Once he was clear he set out for the throne room.

“Five,” his father said, a foreign smile making an appearance, “I have something to tell you.”

Five stepped forward, the giddiness that he had in his room leaving him as he got closer. He didn’t like that face, that smile on his twisted father’s face. It never meant anything good, all signs pointed to doom. “You’re going to get married.”

“Pardon me?”

“Well, you’re not getting married right now, but there is going to be a masquerade ball. You’ll be able to choose your bride, of course. She’ll need to be special to be able to handle you, of course.”

“Of course, and how am I going to find her? Dance with every maiden in the kingdom?”

“How wonderful, you already have a plan! We shall send invitations out to every maiden in the kingdom!”

With that he left the room, leaving Five buzzing with questions and anxiety as he stared at the throne silently. He was trained to be king, he did well in all of his classes, he was well educated, but the thought of having a queen was terrifying. It all seemed to be moving too fast.

The only silver lining was the hope that you would be there in the ballroom, A friend, an ally, maybe? Then a small voice seemed to whisper, to hope, a queen.

Your feet were sore, horribly sore. Yesterday, the baroness noticed your absence and has since then forced you to clean the kitchen, spilling lentils and flour purposefully as she came by to check up on your progress. Eventually, it was done, but now you hurt. Elinor offered you biscuits in the morning but you felt too nauseated to stomach anything.

The only things on your mind were your pain and Phillip, or rather your mystery man by the creek. You caught yourself zoning out, thinking about him, wishing to see him, to visit him. You wondered if he was waiting for you by the creek. You hoped he would come back despite your absence, you hoped he would touch your hand again and you hoped his eyes would linger on your lips for a minute too long.

Hoping was the only thing that was draining out Constance’s shirl voice as she yelled at some of the servants, going on about how there was dust on a frame somewhere and how unseemly dirt was. The first thing she told you when you had come back from the creek was that you were dirty, then she proceeded to lecture you on how cleanliness was close to godliness. A proper lady must never be dirty.

You jumped in surprise hearing a distinct rapping against the front door, for a second you hoped it was Phillip as you went to answer it. “Invitations to the ladies of the house, The Baroness Constance of Blodwell and her three daughters, Jane, Elinor, and…”

“I just have two daughters, sir.” The baroness cut him off as he handed her the four invitations, with a shocked look on his face. You looked over at her, wondering when she had paused her lecture to greet the gentleman at the door. You watched as she read the invitations with hungry eyes, gasping sharply as she pulled a hand over her chest. “Oh, oh,”

“What is it? What are the invitations for?” Jane demanded quickly, bouncing on the soles of her feet like a child next to her mother, an act she would be reprimanded for later.

“It’s for a royal ball, for the crown prince. He’s choosing a bride!” Constance said with glee, handing two invitations to her daughter, your’s still residing in her hand as she shut the door on the messenger boy.

“A bride!” Jane parroted the word with a squeal, while you disliked her it was wonderful to see her so overjoyed. A sudden thought entered your brain, Phillip could be at the ball, it was for the whole kingdom, maybe he had a sister or he would be invited!

“Does Y/N have an invitation too, mother?” Elinor asked, looking up from her’s with an endearing smile. You wished she hadn’t asked, you could tell what was coming next. Constance frowned as she looked at your invitation, your name is written in the same ink that her daughters were written in. She considered it for a moment before tearing the invitation to shreds.

A quiet scream caught in your throat as you reached out to stop her, “Don’t touch me, girl!” she screamed at you as the paper fell to the ground. “You’re barely my daughter, after all, you get along better with the servants, so you will be treated like one!”

“But, I…”

“Did I say you could speak about the matter? No, now we need to make preparations for the ball tonight!” she burst at the seams with a variety of emotions, settling on hope. Hoping that one of her daughters would win the Prince’s heart and become queen.

You were still her daughter, she was all you had. You knew that she would never be your mother nor would she be your father, but she was something. She was the last thing you had, the last connection. “How can you be so cruel?” you felt the words spill out as she turned to look down at you.

“I’m not cruel, I’m saving you from rejection, my dear,” she said, reaching out her hand to graze your cheek. “Clean.” she looked down at the parchment on the ground with a smile before she was walking away.

Jane had a purple dress decorated with gold appliqué, muttering about how she was going as a masked royal because she was sure she would soon be one anyway, while Elinor had a pale blue dress with white appliqué, and Constance was wearing red, and you were wearing rags. They had come and gone, leaving you to cry with the shredded parchment in the attic.

A soft knocking forced you to dry your eyes quickly, “Come in,” you stood up from your bed when the head maid, Elizabeth, entered.

“Hello,”

“I, well, we have something for you,” she said, a giddy smile from her made your heart squeeze with joy. She motioned behind her and up came more maids, holding a white and gold gown, the material looked soft to touch and elegant. Another maid produced a matching gold and cream mask, the more you looked at it you realized it was a swan, or rather it was a mask for a swan. It looked eerily familiar, but you couldn’t place your finger on it.

“Oh, oh my,” you cried as you reached out to touch the hem, “It’s beautiful,” you whispered as they looked at you. You could see a pair of shoes in one of their hands, you turned to Elizabeth quickly. “I won’t make it there in time!”

“My dear, do you think we would make you walk? I asked Henry, my husband, to bring a carriage. You need not worry, we have everything for you.”

You felt small tears of joy prick at your eyes “Thank you, thank you.” you repeated quickly as the women surrounded you and helped you get ready for the ball.

Five was staring at himself in the mirror with a frown on his face, the cream color of his coat didn’t suit him, and this collar, disgustingly baby blue was choking him slowly. The bottom of his coat had a small trim of blue as well, and at a closer glance, he could see that his coat had a light gold detail, the royal insignia, and other symbols decorating it beautifully. It just wasn’t for him. In all honesty, it fit him quite well, the occasion just wasn’t to his liking. He didn’t like the idea of walking around with a bunch of masked strangers who were either trying to marry him or trying to make him marry their child.

Nonetheless, at this point fighting with his father would be useless. The damage had been done, people were arriving and he was expected to smile and dance. Five burned his gaze into the mirror, moving a hand up to his hair and messed with its carefully styled beauty before he turned on his heel and headed out towards the ballroom.

With the help of the maids, you were quickly dressed and adorned with white jewels on your neck and ears. The mirror looked like a mirage as you stared yourself down, nothing seemed real. It was already a splendid dream and as you stepped into the carriage the dream began to blend with reality.

Having arrived only a quarter late to the ball, slipping in was easy, it was the stares that made it difficult to calm down. Every step, every sound you made, caused people’s heads to turn as if they were waiting for you. You were excited to be at the ball, but now it was a matter of finding a purpose. Did you only want to come to be included? It had to be because with all these eyes staring you down you wanted nothing more than to turn around and go home.

You took in a gentle breath and closed your eyes, thinking about how Elizabeth told you to have fun and how she whispered how beautiful you looked. Finding solace in the memory, you joined the outer circle of the dance floor, watching as a woman dressed as a peacock spun about the dance floor.

A smile crept its way onto your lips as you watched them, something about the way she laughed as she twirled made you giddy. It was as if the atmosphere had completely changed because of the woman's dazzling smile, a smile that made the world smile back at her.

The man, however, had a strange sense of familiarity to him. Something about the broadness of his shoulders, the brunette color of his hair, and the way his smile never seemed to stay too long on his face all seemed familiar to you. ‘That must be the crown prince’ you thought with a tiny nod, it had to be because this was his ball after all and he was looking for a bride.

The violins soon disappeared, followed by the horns, till the only sound to be heard was the sounds of people clapping as the two split apart. You moved to find a drink, or perhaps a corner in which you could cling to and avoid getting seen. Your feet had other ideas as you stepped on the long hem of your dress, flying towards the ground.

You squeezed your eyes tight waiting for the floor to make contact, but with a muted flash of blue, you felt arms hold you up instead. You peeked one eye open, opening both in surprise to see the golden mask of the crown prince inches from your face. “I’m so sorry, sir.” You gasped as you used his shoulders to stabilize yourself quickly, having the intention to get as far away from him as possible, as soon as he let you go.

His lips opened for a moment before he closed them and swallowed hard. If you didn’t know any better you would say that he seemed just as surprised as you were. Which was a ridiculous idea to even venture, so you pushed it to the back of your mind as fast as possible. “Sir,” you stuttered softly, “Your royal highness, sir, you’re still holding my waist.”

“Oh,” he muttered gently, grip not releasing for a moment before he let out a gasp and exclaimed another “Oh!” as he let go of your waist quickly. You smiled at him, reaching up to adjust your mask swiftly before the prince was holding a hand towards you. You looked at his hand for a second too long, about to question him before he asked “Will you dance with me?”

“Oh,” you whispered as you laid your hand on top of his “I’m not that good, sir.”

“That’s fine,” he said as he led you to the middle of the floor “I’ll lead, all you have to do is follow.”

“Right, follow,” you repeated as the violins began to play a sweet and delicate melody. Your head turned down to watch the Prince’s feet, dreading the idea of stepping on the foot of the future monarch. You heard a laugh as you danced with your head down and before you knew it a gentle hand was moving your chin up.

“You’re supposed to look up,” he laughed again and you could feel your cheeks flush beneath your mask. He stole a glance at the other couples joining the two of you on the dance floor, surrounded the two of you pleasantly, and then he looked into your eyes again. “Spin for me,” he told you and you followed his orders quickly.

When the two of you were face to face again, you gasped quickly as he dipped you with the rest of the crowd of dancers, your hands holding onto his shoulders tight as you felt your loose hair graze the floor. “Relax,” he laughed as the two of you danced “What’s your name?”

You peeked at the floor, looking for his shoes for a second before he cleared his throat gently to give you the silent message to look up. “Well, I’m not supposed to be here,” you let out a nervous chuckle “So, I’m not sure I should tell you my name.”

“You’re not supposed to be here? My father sent you an invitation, didn't he? Isn't that enough to prove that you deserve to be here tonight?”

“I suppose, sir, but my family wished for me to stay at home.”

“So why did you come?”

You faltered for a moment, letting out a slow sigh “I came because I wanted to be included, I suppose. I wanted to experience something for once,” you looked up at him with a sad smile “I just wanted to have fun.”

The prince let out a pleasant hum, reminding you of someone that you had yet to spot amongst the crowd. You gasped as you tapped on his shoulder with excitement “I’m looking for a friend,” you chattered about quickly “His name is Philip, do you know him by any chance?”

The prince’s eyes became wide for a second, staring at you with a shocked expression. You didn’t know if you said something offensive or crude, but his dancing pace slowed as his breathing became quick. “Your majesty, are you alright?” you asked as the two of you slowed to a stop as couples danced around the two of you.

“Ella?” he whispered, his hand squeezing yours tight. Hearing him say that name made everything click for you and then the dance floor began to spin. You struggled to release your hand from his. Philip was the crown prince, and you were dancing with him and you had been so casual with him, that was worth some kind of punishment. You inhaled sharply as his grip became tighter around your waist, stopping all your struggling before you stared up into his eyes, waiting for him to speak.

But, he said nothing. He just stared down at you, staring into your eyes as you stayed in his arms breathless. “Philip, dance,” you said quickly as some of the other couple’s started to stop and stare at the two of you and with that, he started moving again.

Your senses were heightened now, your anxiety playing a role in the dance as you felt his hand squeeze your side nervously and how his fingers itched to be intertwined with yours. He swallowed nervously as the two of you danced to the swelling violins, “Please don’t call me Philip,” he whispered in a meek tone “It’s Five,”

You bit back a snarky comment and nodded slowly “Right,”

“Ella, listen,”

“It’s okay,” you cut him off. “I lied too, that, and you look at your feet when you’re lying.”

Five smiled at that before letting out a strained breath, “I can’t trust that, liar.” he teased as he let go of your hand to move a strand of hair out from your face. The violins were slowing down now, but you weren’t ready yet, you found a new purpose and you didn’t want to leave him just yet. Just a little longer, a voice inside of you screamed, you just needed more time.

“Is there any way we can go somewhere else?” you asked in a hushed voice as you bowed into a curtsey.

“Meet me in the garden,”

“How are you going to find a way out?”

“By causing a scene, of course,” he grinned as you took a few steps back before turning around and heading for the garden.

Cause a scene he did, he walked over to his father, spilled red wine down the front of his shirt before knocking over a candelabra in the process, almost setting a tablecloth on fire. Earning just enough commotion to cause a crowd that would swarm his father, and then he was on his way out.

You were sitting on the edge of a fountain, the lavish lights from inside illuminated the water, vines gripped its base and crept up the sides, and having seen you sitting on its edge, Five swore that you were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

When you heard his footsteps get closer, your head snapped away from the shining waters and towards him. You hesitated for a second before you graced him with a kind smile, reaching up slowly to pull down your mask. He knew what you looked like, and no one was around to tell your stepmother that you were here.

Five started a second too long before he started to scramble to take off his mask, laughter built up in your throat and released at a pleasant volume. The two of you stared at each other in comfortable silence for a few seconds before Five cleared his throat. “You look lovely this evening,”

“Well, I did want to look nice for a prince.” you teased in a tone that made Five’s insides turn into honey. You covered your mouth in a poor attempt to hide your growing grin as you watched his eyes grow wide and cheeks turn a light shade of pink.

“Right,” he stuttered out as he sat a safe distance from you on the cement edge of the fountain. He suddenly couldn’t think of anything to say. Did he say that he’s been thinking about you since yesterday? Did he tell you that this feeling was new to him? Did that sound like a confession? That most definitely sounded like a confession.

“You look,” you paused, tilting your head to the side to get a better look at him “Stressed,”

“What? No, no, no,” his eyes looked towards the night sky, his head falling back as he let out a sigh “When I was told that I would be choosing a bride tonight I never thought I would be able to see you again, and yet, here you are,” his head fell back down to earth to look at you “And you just look so lovely and I just think I’m a little overwhelmed.”

You felt your cheeks heat up, knees going weak as you crossed your legs silently. Sure, he had already complimented you once, but when it sounded so sincere, and when he was looking at you like that how could you not blush? “You look rather dashing yourself,” you beamed at him, taking pride in the fact that he was smiling over at you.

“Why thank you, now may I tell you a secret?” Five whispered as he leaned towards you. Your heartbeat raced as you leaned towards him, nodding ‘yes’ quickly. “I just had the most horrid dance partner,” he whispered out with a grin.

You gasped quickly, swatting at his arm as you laughed, “I was not horrid,” you laughed, swaying gently with your laughter, getting dangerously close to falling into the fountain as you giggled. Five reached up to steady you as he laughed with you, his hands on your shoulders sliding down to meet yours and then he let them stay there as the laughter died down.

“Can I ask something of you?” he whispered as he leaned forward.

Your heart leapt dangerously in your chest, knowing how dangerous saying a simple ‘yes’ could be, but you still nodded slowly and said “Yes,”

“I know that we just met and this is completely irrational, but I just light on fire when I’m near you,” he gasped out, hands gripping yours tighter with anxiety. You gave his hands a tiny squeeze and gave him a sinfully gorgeous smile. “I wanted to know if I could,” he trailed off, thumbs tapping against yours nervously.

“Yes?” you urged him gently, fighting back a giddy giggle as he tapped his thumbs against yours, it was nice to see him so nervous, or rather, it was endearing to see him like this.

“I was wondering if it would be okay if I kissed you?”

You felt yourself falter, all alarms in your head screaming something important but they were quickly muffled by something more intense, a giddy haze washing over you. You knew that it would be disastrous to kiss him, if someone saw you two in the middle of the garden they would have a fit, they would exclaim that the prince had found a princess. It wasn’t a good idea, kissing him, but everything in your body burned to kiss him. “You can kiss me,” you replied in a rather confident voice that you didn’t seem to recognize.

He leaned in, a mere inches away from your face, a shaking hand reached up to hold the left side of your cheek as the other held your hand tight. “Are you sure?”

“You’re leaning in aren’t you?”

“Right, well, if you don’t want to,”

“Five,”

“Yes?”

“Kiss me, please,”

“Okay,” he squeaked as he closed his eyes and closed the gap between the two of you, a gentle kiss hitting your lips. You kissed back slowly, eyes fluttering closed as you reached up your free hand to grab hold of the wrist that was cradling your face. You felt the gentleness of the kiss transform into something deeper, lips pushing against yours with a sudden fire.

You were about to kiss him back with the same burning passion as he pulled away, almost as if he surprised himself. “I’m sorry,”

“It’s okay,”

“I just got a little carried away,” he muttered sweetly, whenever he spoke his lips would brush against yours in an intoxicating way. So intoxicating it made your mind fuzzy. You smiled sweetly, a sudden feeling of peace washing over you as the two of you stayed this way for a minute or two.

After many soft caresses against your face and small jokes made inches apart, the two of you pulled away from each other with wide smiles.

“You did get quite carried away,” a voice echoed into the garden. Five jumped away from you at an alarming speed, standing up at the sound of his father’s voice from across the garden. “You’re just lucky that no one can see this little display,”

He seemed surprisingly at ease with this, he didn’t look mad, or disappointed, just slightly amused. “I’m glad you at least found a bride,”

“Bride?” you croaked back, anxiety settling in as you stared up at Five.

“Father, we haven’t discussed that,”

“Well, I sure hope you do, in the meantime I shall go inside and announce the news.” Reginald turned on his heel and headed back towards the ballroom. Five felt his feet stutter, he wanted to run after his father but the sound of your voice made him stop to look over at you.

“I can’t be queen,”

“Ella,” he rushed to your side in a panic. You looked up at him with sharp eyes, chest heaving up and down at a rapid pace as you tried your hardest to calm down.

“My name isn’t even Ella!” you yelled in response to the name, standing up to pace in front of him, absentmindedly chewing on your fingernails as you tried to think. Think about how anyone could view you as capable of being queen. It was impossible, that just wasn’t reality.

“Just calm down, we can talk about this,” Five grabbed your hands, pulling them down from your face and holding them in his own.

You shuddered at his touch and if you weren’t panicking you were sure you’d be relishing in the way his hands felt so soft. Five’s hands moved to cup your face, those soft hands brushed sweet circles on your cheeks. Those sweet movements made your legs turn to jelly, forcing you to let out a slow breath. “Five, I can’t, in good conscience, be queen.”

“Why not?” Five questioned, surprising himself at his words. He didn’t even think about it before he said it. He felt stupid all of a sudden, the silence only confirming his fears, his heart dropped into his stomach as he stared into your eyes. He didn’t know how to read you.

You felt your bottom lip quiver, you didn’t want to cry in front of him. “Five, you don’t even know my real name.”

“Then tell me it, tell me everything about you, I’ve never felt like this before.” He was speaking from the heart for once in his life and he didn’t want to stop. Maybe it was a blessing in disguise that his father had been there to ruin their romantic evening, but all he knew was that if he could feel like this for the rest of his life, he would be happy. It was a foreign concept for someone like him and his siblings, oh his siblings would love you, god he wanted you to be with him so bad it hurt.

You shook your head slowly as you pulled his hands away from your face and let them drop sadly. “I can’t, it’s not right.”

Not right? Five let those words roll around in his brain, staring dumbly at you as tears glistened in your eyes. Why were you crying? Then you turned and ran from him, it took him a second to follow you, still recovering from your words. He didn’t have time to wonder or time to pity himself, he had to catch up to you. He had to find you, but by the time he made it to the steps of the palace you were getting into a carriage and he knew he wouldn’t be able to catch you in time.

“You know you could just teleport,” Reginald said from the top of the steps.

“What’s the use if she doesn’t want me?”

“I know I’m not the most affectionate,” he paused, eyes landing on a shoe near the bottom of the steps “In fact, I’m not a very loving father at all, but I know what love is. I loved your mother and I love you and your siblings. I know you can’t see it but I do, so trust me when I tell you this,” He placed a hand on Five’s shoulder slowly, “Don’t let her go.”

You were busy stuffing the dress, mask, and a single shoe into a chest. You had cried on the carriage ride home and only stopped when you finally felt a little numb. That numb feeling was replaced by fear as soon as you heard the booming voices of your step-siblings enter the house. Sleep, you could pretend to be asleep, it was as easy as that!

Elinor knocked on the open attic door the next morning, a sad look on her face as you stirred. She always did look a little sad, but today it seemed more prominent. A tiny part of you wished that she won Five’s heart instead of you. You groaned at the memory, holding back tears as you stared at her. “What’s wrong?”

“She’s worse than usual today,” was all she said before she was walking down the staircase with a frown.

You got dressed into your regular simple, stained covered dress and you felt calmer. This is where you belonged, you weren’t trained for petticoats and embroidered gowns, you were living as a maid. You didn’t want to imagine the stress of being a queen, and yet a part of you yearned for Five. Not for his status or the riches, just for him and his smile, his laugh.

The baroness frowned at you as you entered the sitting room, Elinor and Jane, at her side with their needle-points in hand. “The girls had a horrid night,”

“I’m so sorry to hear that, Baroness.”

“I’m sure you are,” she snapped, earning a small jump from you. She held up the swan mask with a vicious glare “You did ruin it didn’t you?”

Panic was an emotion you were getting used to as you stared at the mask, there were two options. You could lie, say it isn’t yours, say it was a simple coincidence, or just tell her the truth. “I don’t regret it,” you smiled back, confidence wavering as she stood. If you could earn a proposal from a prince you could handle your stepmother, it was arrogant but it felt right.

“You will, I’ll make sure of it,” she promised as she stood in front of you, her hand raised in an almost dramatic way, flying down to deliver a blow to your cheek. You squeezed your eyes shut, waiting for the strike to hit, but it never came. Your eyes opened to take a peek at your savior, Elinor, standing in front of you with her mother’s hand inches away from her face.

“My night wasn’t ruined,” she said softly as she looked up at her mother. She swatted her mother’s hand away quickly, speaking in a bold tone suddenly. “Believe it or not, people don’t care for you. They care for your regality, but once they know you, they stop caring.”

Constance felt her eyes widen, mouth opening as her youngest daughter shushed her sharply, “The crown prince is going to come looking for her, you know that, Jane knows that, and I know that. So let him come and marry her.” she finished, pushing past her mother to sit back down next to Jane with a smile. You fought back tears of gratitude as you looked over at her before you turned back to Constance.

“I don’t understand how marrying the prince would be a bad thing. He asked me to and I said no because of you, because of how you made me feel, but,” you swallowed, looking down at your dirty clothes “He chose me.”

“Maybe he just wants another maid, but I will let you see him when he comes, and if he still wants you then be grateful.”

His father had written to his siblings and so they were here. All of them. He loved his siblings, truly, they were just annoying, very, very annoying. Vanya was secretly his favorite, although he’d never tell her that. Klaus was discussing his husband, Dave, with a very annoyed Ben who just kept nodding and going ‘uh-huh’ and Allison was talking to Luther about her daughter. This is how it usually was, they all seemed to ignore the reason they were brought here and just went off into their own worlds. Five only had the attention of Diego and Vanya thus far, funnily enough, they were polar opposites and yet they both seemed so annoyed. “Hey!” Diego spoke up, snapping his head in the direction of his siblings “Can we all focus?”

“Focus on Five having a hard-on for a commoner?”

“Luther, I have a hard-on for a commoner.”

“Klaus, please stop talking about Dave,”

“Can we not call it that, please?” Five whimpered, stuffing his face into his hands, trying to rub away his on-coming headache.

“Dad said he caught the two of you kissing in the garden,” Klaus said, talking as if it was the most scandalous piece of news he had heard all week. “The ghosts of the palace say it was pretty steamy, three cheers for Five!”

“Please, focus.” Five begged his siblings as they laughed. “I just need you all to focus,”

Five waited for all eyes to be on him again before he continued “I propose and she ran off,”

“With your attitude, I would run away too,” Diego joked, playing with a small dagger.

“That’s not the point!” Five snipped, rubbing his temples harder before he let his hands drop with a defeated sigh. “I need to find her, I need to ask her again.”

“Why don’t you just ask someone else?” Luther questioned.

“Luther,” Allison said sharply “If someone told you to find a new wife, would you just simply ask someone else?”

“Well, no, but they kissed. It’s not like Five’s in love with her, right?” He turned his head towards Five, whose cheeks were turning a teasable color of pink.

“Well, I…” he trailed off, clearing his throat quickly to cover up for his embarrassment.

“Oh, he’s falling in love with her,” Klaus said, clapping his hands together with excitement. He mustered up his best, posh accent and said “Charles, let’s have a royal wedding, for the youngest please.” That’s when everyone started talking at once. Five heard some sentences like, ‘oh, I bet she’s beautiful’ or ‘do you think she can handle Five’ and so on.

He cleared his throat again, getting his siblings attention “I need us to split up,” and thus a plan was put into place; Vanya would be searching the inner city with Allison, Luther and Diego would be searching the farmlands, and Ben, Klaus and himself would be searching the grounds near the creek. He assumed you lived near there, but he wasn’t going to take any chances so there wasn’t going to be any stoned left unturned till he found you.

Elinor, Jane, and Constance have long since gone to different parts of the cottage, but you stayed in the sitting room. You had changed to your best dress, one that was crisp and free of anything unseemly and shined the pretty shade of pink, but after that, you were glued to the sitting room. You had tried to read, but your mind was far too cluttered for any books at the moment, so you sat and thought about your mother and father. You thought about love and how they loved each other, trying your best to remember every beautiful detail possible.

Elizabeth broke your concentration when she came running into the sitting room. “Miss Y/N! The crown prince, he’s coming! Oh dear, he’s coming to you with his brothers! Oh, miss, I’m so happy for you.”

“He’s coming here, now.” you gasped, standing up quickly.

“Do you not want him to come, miss?”

“No! No, I do, I’m just,” you paused, hands shaking “Well, I’m scared.”

“He’ll love you, dear,” She beamed, moving to wrap you into a tight hug as a knock was sounded at the door. Elizabeth was off of you within seconds and scurried to the door with a laugh, she looked back at you for a second, waiting for you to give her the okay. You nodded quickly as you flattened out your dress, trying your best to look presentable.

You stood in the sitting room, staring at the door. You felt strange for not opening the door yourself and you felt guilty that you ran away. You should have said yes, you should have agreed to be with him last night. You felt your fingers twitch as panicked thoughts ran through your head at a thrilling speed. Elizabeth opened the door to let them in.

He was dressed differently now, he looked similar to how he looked when the two of you first met, and yet, he looked so different. He was still wearing a formal-looking suit, blues and gold decorated him handsomely and you could feel your heartbeat pounding inside your chest. His eyes were soft, seeming more desperate and vulnerable than ever. As soon as he spotted you his feet stopped.

Two men followed him in, standing behind him with smiles. One was rather tall with long hair, fashionably dressed, and had the wider smile of the two. The other seemed just as happy but calmer, dressed in more formal attire. The sitting room was filled with silence before the taller man’s voice cut through, “So, you’re the little lady who danced about the ballroom with Five.”

“Klaus,” the other man said in a disappointed tone, his smile dropping as he stared at him. Then the silence continued. Five was looking for something to say, he wanted to say so many things before, but now he couldn’t get the words out. “Maybe we should go outside,” Ben muttered as he took note of the silence, pushing his brother out the door quickly, leaving you and Five alone.

“The suns going down,” Five blurted out quickly as his chest squeezed with anxiety.

“It took you all day to find me,” you joked as you took a step towards him.

Five smiled at you before turning his head down to look at his hands, fidgeting quietly. “I was waiting for my siblings,”

“They’re lovely,”

“Only you would say that.”

“And how would you know that?”

“Because you’re good,” he paused, lifting his head to meet your surprised gaze. “You’re good for me and you’re kind and unbearably naive. I mean who forgets her shoe on the steps of the palace. How childish, truly,” he laughed as he watched your face flush red.

“I would rather you call me something sweet instead of teasing me,”

“I would rather call you by your name.”

“It’s Y/N,” you responded sheepishly, giving Five an unsure smile as he echoed your name back to feel it on his lips. You watched as he blossomed into a large smile and nodded a little. You tilted your head to the side, laughing as you watched him mutter to himself with fascination, “What?”

“I think my last name fits perfectly at the end of that, what do you think?” He was teasing you, surely, he wasn’t doing this here, now? You felt your mouth go dry, butterflies hitting the walls on your stomach as you reached down to hold onto something. Five’s demeanor changed quickly upon seeing you sway, “No, wait, wait, I’m sorry!”

He was hovering over you nervously as you sat on the edge of a chair, his hands nervously finding your face. His thumbs rubbed soothing circles on them as you stared up at him. “You can’t joke like that, not if you don’t mean it.”

“If I don’t mean it?”

You stuttered for a short minute, mouth opening and closing like the mouth of a fish as he looked down at you. You swallowed sharply, stood up, and looked over at Five, “Then do it right, if you mean it, that is to say, propose to me properly.”

“Properly? You know I’m a prince, I was born to be proper.” He was joking at a time like this, earning a gentle frown from you before he was taking your hands in his in one swift movement. “Properly,” he repeated one last time, earning a nervous nod from you in the process.

“Growing up I never really had much optimism in my life, I was born with extraordinary abilities and yet my life was seemingly boring. I always felt as if I was missing something important, missing something that made life meaningful. I had books, royal duties, and standards. I had the makings of a good prince, indeed, but I think I was missing you. You have shown me colors I can’t see with anyone else. I can’t promise to be the best for you or to be the most earnest, or to be the most amiable, but I can promise to love you. So if you’ll have me, will you do me the honor of marrying me?” He finished his speech, moving to the ground to be on one knee, trying to catch his breath. He felt you squeeze his hands tight before pulling him up into a tight hug, kissing his cheek quickly.

“Of course, I will,” you whispered in his ear sweetly, pulling back from him with a smile. Five stood there, panting lightly as you were inches from his face before he let out an excruciating long sigh.

“Oh, thank god.” he released before he leaned in to kiss you firmly on the lips. You tripped over yourself to kiss him back with the same passion, smiling against his lips as you held onto him. Five was beaming, kissing you all over your face as he laughed. You felt laughter spill out of you quickly, swatting him away playfully and then you knew that as long as you had him next to you, you would be fine and the two of you would live happily ever after indeed.

140 notes · View notes

it-was-summer · 3 years

Text

The tag list:

@lexicakes @itsametaphorbriansblog @blushingspencer @ceeellewrites @wavesofafeather @lovesguiltypleasuress @skullwithemotions @k-k0129 @crazymar15 @cococrazy18 @twilightlover2007 @honestlystop @kj-1130 @padsfirewhisky @silverscreenkid @mollygetssherlockcoffee @donttellanyoneireadfanfiction @baby-dol1 @haylaansmi @m3ssytrash @sheisforthebirds @justanotherfangirl @elldell1204 @sophiecalifragilistics @mylifemymuse @you-sunshine @cutelittlepotatofry @kennedywxlsh @doctorthreephds @lotties-journey-abroad @boba-king-iroh @saber-pendragon @snitchthewitch @ampal98 @chipot-lol @thatsonezesty13 @oreogutz @skyttlle @aprildwyer-ludgate @justanothetfangirl @kittengirl998 @obsssedwithjustaboutanything @theawkwardbutterfly @hiiwouldlikesomesleepplease @bartlebyreid @whovianofthenight @multi-fandom-writer15 @bat-luna-cat @wubbawubwub04 @softieekayy @somepersonhere2 @teenwolfgirl90 @fakin-it-til-i-make-it @loveheathens @kattherat9 @day-n-night-dreamer

Video Killed the Radio Star- Chapter 8 (Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader)

A/N: Hello!!! After a very very very long hiatus, school is over and I am ready to write again. I’m sorry for dropping off the face of the earth, but I did indeed get burnt out this semester and I just needed some time to recover. I also got sick with COVID-19, so I’m sorry that chapter 8 took so long to write. As regards to the things in my ask box, I will be answering them as soon as I post this chapter today. I will be working over the Summer, but I promise to write over the Summer. Thank you all for being kind and I hope that this chapter or two nerds being nerds makes up for some of it… a little at least? Also the text will be italicized

Warnings: One? Curse word? Fluff and texting?

Plot: Spencer and you fight against all judgement and ignore the growing feelings the two of you have for each other. Spencer sends you a text.

Word Count: 2.1K

Spencer had come and gone, and now your couch carried the faint smell of peppermint and old books. The moon peered through your living room window as you poured steaming water into a mug, the smell of peppermint making your stomach flip pleasantly. Your mind wandered dangerously, thinking about how sweet Spencer’s laugh sounded when you nitpicked something the Doctor had said.

Keep reading

#I hope you all forgive me for my hiatus #unannounced hiatus too #please forgive me #I love you all #I will get to writing more chapters soon #please dm me if you don't want to be in the taglist or if its not tagging you etc #and thank you #i lobe you #i love you all so much

64 notes · View notes

it-was-summer · 3 years

Text

Video Killed the Radio Star- Chapter 8 (Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader)

A/N: Hello!!! After a very very very long hiatus, school is over and I am ready to write again. I'm sorry for dropping off the face of the earth, but I did indeed get burnt out this semester and I just needed some time to recover. I also got sick with COVID-19, so I'm sorry that chapter 8 took so long to write. As regards to the things in my ask box, I will be answering them as soon as I post this chapter today. I will be working over the Summer, but I promise to write over the Summer. Thank you all for being kind and I hope that this chapter or two nerds being nerds makes up for some of it... a little at least? Also the text will be italicized

Warnings: One? Curse word? Fluff and texting?

Plot: Spencer and you fight against all judgement and ignore the growing feelings the two of you have for each other. Spencer sends you a text.

Word Count: 2.1K

Thinking about how he stood in front of your bookcase and how bright his smile became seeing The Nightingale and the Rose amongst the masses, his fingers brushing the spine for a second before he let out a soft ‘oh’. You shook your head from side to side gently, trying to shake the recent memories from your brain as you took a short sip of your tea.

You couldn’t help but feel dirty thinking about Spencer. If you were just thinking about him you would’ve felt better, but you weren’t thinking about Spencer necessarily. You were thinking about how soft his hands felt in the split second the two of you reached for the remote. You were thinking about how he used that same hand to push back his hair from his eyes, how the dying sunlight outside reached his eyes, and how he looked when he lingered for a second too long at the door.

That wasn’t right. You weren’t supposed to think about him like that, you didn’t want to. Every lingering thought was shoved into the back of your mind in a forceful act of rebellion. You needed to remain grounded, you couldn’t let yourself get carried away. He was your friend and he was going to remain your friend, just a friend.

The peppermint tea felt thick as it went down your throat, a soft chime bringing you back to reality. Your hand shot over to your phone, feeling desperate for any kind of distraction. Your mother had texted you a simple ‘Hi’ and you felt your shoulders relax instantly. You hit the call button.

___

Spencer stood in the middle of a park, he wasn’t there for a case or to play chess, he was just there-- sitting on a red blanket. His head raised to the sky as a breeze shook through his hair sweetly. He heard a gentle and familiar laugh beside him, his head snapping away from the blue sky to look at you. “What are you laughing at?”

“Nothing,”

Spencer frowned, sitting up on his elbows, eyes locked onto yours, silently interrogating you. You waved him off with a smile, “Fine,” you said, leaning your head into the palm of your hand. “I never get to see you like this, so free.”

“I’m always free, thank you very much,” Spencer taunted uncharacteristically as he felt your hand shove into his shoulder with a gentle jab.

“You know that’s not what I meant,” soft wind blew your hair into your face and Spencer could already feel his hand moving to push the hair out of your eyes, “You’re always worrying about work or a case or something else, sometimes it feels like you’re running a thousand miles a minute and I can’t catch up, but sometimes it’s nice to just see you be still for a while.”

Spencer felt pleasant shivers pass through his spine, opening up his mouth to whisper something sweet to say to you, but the words never got the chance to leave his throat as he woke up in his dark bedroom.

His eyelids fluttered gently, begging him to fall back asleep against his will. Spencer forced his eyes open, turning his head to the side to look at the time glowing on the digital clock that sat upon his nightstand. Four in the morning.

Spencer felt his face grow warm as he laid awake in bed, thinking about you. Your laugh, your smile, your eyes, your hands. Spencer didn’t like to touch people, being a slight germaphobe, he tried to avoid touching other people as much as possible. So why was he so comfortable with it in a dream? He didn’t believe that dreams reflected the subconscious, but sometimes he ignored that gnawing feeling inside his brain and believed in dream analysis.

This was one of those times. He knew that if he mentioned anything to Derek, he would make fun of him, and then he would tell Penelope and then everyone would know. So maybe this was something he was going to keep to himself. He wordlessly decided that he wouldn’t tell anyone, it felt wrong to tell anyone. You were hurting. Recovering.

Besides, if he said something-- if he reacted to it, wouldn’t that make this feeling grow? He bit his lip, rolled over on his other side, closed his eyes, and tried to resume the dream he had just woken up from.

A lump filled Spencer’s throat as he stepped through the elevator, coffee’s in hand. He wasn’t the best at lying about things and he worked with profilers. Literal people that could look at him and dissect his brain without him saying a word. Usually, he had the upper hand, usually, he didn’t feel so different. He had no reason to feel so strange, he was just happy, was it so strange that he felt happy? When Prentiss’s eyes fell on him, he decided yes.

The team didn’t always say something when they noticed something was off with Spencer, but most of the time they made a habit to say some teasing remark in passing. Spencer wasn’t sensitive, nor was he immune to throwing out some special one-liners of his own, he was just skittish about receiving them.

“Spencer,” Emily’s voice cut through the room, snapping Spencer’s head up from his coffee. “You seem,” she paused “Weird.”

“Weird? Reid?” Derek chuckled softly, eyes meeting Spencer’s for a quick second.

“Yep, always weird.”

“Yeah, okay, he’s being weird,”

Spencer took a long sip of his coffee, his fingertips gripping the cup a little tighter in a desperate attempt to calm himself down. He had no reason to feel weird, no reason at all. It’s not like his dream was real. It had just been so long since Spencer had liked someone as much as he liked you. That wasn’t the right way to think about it; he simply had a crush on you. That was all it was, a crush.

“I just had a good night,” he muttered nervously into the lid of his cup.

“Yeah, with a cute little miss thing that lives in Richmond.”

“Richmond?” mused Emily with a smile.

Spencer frowned at Derek, “Who even told you that? Was it Penelope, because she told me she wouldn’t tell,”

“When she says that, she means she won’t tell Hotch, but she’ll most likely always tell me.”

Emily waved her hand from side to side, “Wait go back,” she pointed at Spencer “Did you have a date yesterday?”

“No!”

“Yes.”

“No, it wasn’t a date. It was coffee. We drank coffee and talked.” Spencer argued quickly, making him seem guilty in a matter of seconds.

“Can she even do anything with that boot on?” Emily teased, earning a laugh from Derek.

“Come on, Prentiss. Reid only makes moves on girls in the middle of a case, not after.”

“That was once!”

“So you made a move on her then?” Emily implored gently, letting the interrogative teasing be cut short.

“No, we went back to her apartment to watch a show, and then I went home,” Spencer answered, trying to let his nerves settle down, when he said it out loud it sounded like it was nothing. It sounded silly. Derek and Emily shot each other a glance, shared a smile, and then both mouthed a simple ‘okay’, before going their separate ways.

Spencer knew that Emily was probably running over to whisper something to Rossi or J.J and Derek was probably heading over to Penelope to tell her what just happened. He could care less, he needed to work, and they all needed to work judging by the way Hotch walked into his office.

You had woken up near noon to a text that simply read; Hello.(: It was short, sweet, and from Spencer. To be fair, he had mentioned that he wasn’t the best with texting people, so the fact that he sent you a text said something.

You didn’t want to seem too eager as you texted Hey, did you have lunch yet?

You set the phone down, trying to get over the initial feeling of embarrassment that caused your cheeks to flush, remembering in a second that you were a nerd. You couldn’t text people for shit and as you stared at the message you had just sent Spencer it showed.

You sat up, sliding off to the edge of the bed, hand reaching for the phone as another chime made your heart burst. No, I spent lunch on a plane to Georgia.

Georgia?

Chime.

We got another case and the whole team is running on coffee.

Eat something soon.

Chime.

Can’t ignore a demand like that.

Good, don’t.

Chime.

Text me later?

Absolutely (:

You pressed your lips together, fighting back the growing smile on your lips as you left your phone on your bed, today already seemed promising.

Being out yesterday made you realize how much you missed being outside, the only downside was it took forever for you to get anywhere. So, you called your mom out for lunch. You found the slow walking easier to deal with when you were talking to someone else and she was worried about you, so it was a win-win.

The restaurant was crowded, crowded areas usually made you feel nervous like you were being watched. Being watched wasn’t so bad, being kidnapped was worse, and being physically abused was worse than being kidnapped. So you could deal with some crowds.

Certain things kept catching you by surprise, like the way slow-moving cars rolling down the street made you tense up, and the way you clenched your jaw as the waitress’s name tag shined ‘Heather’.

Your mother was kind enough to reach over the table to hold your hand in hers, a smile brightening her eyes effortlessly, “You look lovely today,”

You let out a small sigh and shrugged “I had a good morning,”

“Really?” she repeated, smile growing wider.

“Yeah,” you squeezed her hand gently “I went out for coffee yesterday with Spencer, too.”

“The F.B.I agent, Spencer?” You nodded quickly, hand leaving hers as you looked through the menu. “Was this a date?”

“Mom,” your eyes peered up at her, lips turned down into a gentle frown “I just went through something very traumatic, I don’t think it was a date.”

“What was it then?”

“A friend, being nice to another friend.” You replied quickly, trying to move your focus back onto the menu in your hands. You heard a small sound from your mother that reassembled an ‘okay’ before she went silent, but you could tell she was burning with questions.

You didn’t blame her, you never got out much but when you did, she was the first one to know. You had mentioned over the phone last night that the two of you were friends and he was helping you through so of the tougher things that recovery involved, but she seemed to ignore that then. You had yet to mention the addictive tendencies you were feeling, the yearning for a release, an outlet of some kind. You knew it would break her heart, so you kept quiet.

“I like him,”

“Mom,” you scolded with a smile, setting down the menu. “You met him once.”

“And he made a good impression,”

“You left the room!”

“I can read body language,”

“Okay, mom,” You scoffed as you took a sip of your water.

“All I’m saying is,” she put her hands together “Recovering doesn’t mean you have to ignore every opportunity that comes your way because you don’t think it’s the right time.” She met your eyes and let out a tiny laugh, “I know you and you won’t let anything happen if you feel like it’s not the right time, sometimes it’s not a bad thing to let things happen. Romantic things or otherwise.”

You opened your mouth to say something but instead, you let out a tiny sigh, nodding slowly. She didn’t need to know how miserable the night made you, how suffocating a day alone was for you, so you nodded. After all, maybe she was right, she was your mother.

64 notes · View notes

it-was-summer · 3 years

Text

the tag list:

Video Killed The Radio Star- Chapter 7 (Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader)

A/N: thank you all for being patient with me and for reading my series! Happy Sunday to you all and I think that if I update every Sunday it will work out fine! If school gets in the way I will let you all know! Please take care of yourselves and be happy!!

Warnings: Overall fluff, two dorks being dorks, etc.

Plot: Things start to feel better with Spencer around. Spencer and you enjoy a nice spring Saturday and Spencer gets an enticing invitation.

Word Count: 3.1K

It was childish to want to look cute for a friend, a cute friend, but still a friend. You were trying on outfit after outfit, eyes always drifting to the black boot stuck on your leg. In the end, you settled on a simple tee-shirt and jeans combo. You wanted to admit that the tee-shirt didn’t have a slightly low v-neck, and you also wanted to admit that your hair wasn’t a beautiful mess of brush out curls. You were trying your hardest to look both casual and stunning, the way heroines did in romance novels, but the longer you looked in the mirror you felt painfully obvious.

Keep reading

#fuckkk I always mess up #like people must know that by now #ughh enjoy it please

118 notes · View notes

it-was-summer · 3 years

Text

Video Killed The Radio Star- Chapter 7 (Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader)

Warnings: Overall fluff, two dorks being dorks, etc.

Plot: Things start to feel better with Spencer around. Spencer and you enjoy a nice spring Saturday and Spencer gets an enticing invitation.

Word Count: 3.1K

Spencer told you he had the upcoming weekend off, and lucky for him you had another two months off, so it worked out perfectly. You tore your eyes away from your reflection, confidence falling as you stared at the clock propped up on your desk. It was twenty minutes till noon, and you had suggested a near-by cafe.

If you didn’t count the time spent with your mother this would be your first time out of the house since the incident, a shiver caressed your spine. You drew in a calming breath, eyes closing as you exhaled. You didn’t have the mental capacity for a mental breakdown today, you needed him to see that you were fine. Stable.

Your lips turned up in a nervous smile as you limped over to your purse and crutches, trying your best to keep the strap slung over your shoulder. You had called a cab ahead of time, you would’ve walked, but you didn’t want to arrive with sweat dripping down your back.

The cab dropped you off early, giving you ample time to find a place to sit and wait. The wait also gave you plenty of time to silently panic; did this seem like a date? Did you look like you were ready for a date? What if he thought you looked bad? You rubbed your palms against your jeans, sweat clingy to them desperately, so much for the cab ride.

Spencer spotted you before you spotted him, a smile taking over his face immediately, watching as you talked to the waitress with a kind smile. It wasn’t until she was gone that you saw him, waving him over with a loud giggle. Spencer felt a familiar feeling swimming in his chest, the feeling of beating wings, a small gust of wind brought him back. Spencer sat across from you, smiling wide, “Hi,”

A nervous laugh erupted from you, “Hey,” you took in his appearance; messy hair, clean face, beige slacks, and a dark blue sweater-vest. “Blue looks nice on you.” you hear yourself say unexpectedly, surprising yourself and Spencer simultaneously.

“Blue?” Spencer repeats as he looks down at the sweater vest covering his chest, a tiny laugh escaping his lips.

You feel your mouth open against your will, words spewing out, “I don’t know why I said that, I just noticed that your eyes look nice in dark blue, and the sweater-vest is a nice shade of navy,”

“Thank you,” Spencer cuts you off in a gentle tone, eyes meeting yours quickly.

“You’re welcome,” you muttered softly as the waitress made a reappearance. After having a glance at the menu, Spencer ordered a peppermint tea, and you ordered a coffee. As she left the two of you alone, you tilted your head towards the side.

“Is peppermint tea your favorite?”

“I would say it’s in the top three,” Spencer joked lightly, trying to relax under your gaze. Even if the two of you were here just as friends, the way the sunlight was illuminating your hair made Spencer’s throat tighten with anxiety. “It calms me down to drink something nice and,” Spencer noticed how fast he was talking, “Warm. Something nice and warm,” he repeated slower, calming himself down.

You leaned in slightly, “I loved the tea and the book, it was very thoughtful.” you resisted the urge to reach for his hand that was resting on the table, retreating into your seat nervously.

“I’m not a big coffee drinker,” Spencer paused, “Well, actually, I am! I just need the coffee to be extremely sweet.”

“Oh, you’re one of those.” Your voice carried a playful tone as you trailed off.

“One of what?”

“Those people. They need to have cream, sugar, and a dollop of coffee!”

Spencer looked at you, eyes wide, “A dollop?”

“A dollop, yes.”

“That’s the word you’re going to use?”

“Do you have a problem with it, Doctor?” you teased him, tension leaving as you heard Spencer chuckling across the table. The wind blew his hair into his face and you swore you could smell the faint smell of peppermint and aftershave. Your eyes darted towards his lips for a second before the waitress set a cup in front of you. “Oh, thank you.”

Spencer gave a quick thanks to the waitress, eyes staying on you as your cheeks became a tinted pink. You were looking around, eyes never focusing on one thing for too long. Something was making you nervous, and Spencer couldn’t help but feel like he had done something wrong. “Is everything alright?”

You poured a small amount of cream into your coffee with a false smile, heart-pounding inside your chest, “I’m fine,”

“You seem tense,”

“I just had an intrusive thought,” you lied as you stirred in some sugar. You couldn’t tell him about your dreams, the two of you were friends and it was the first time the two of you were together under normal circumstances. You didn’t want to ruin this, you couldn’t ruin this.

Spencer noticed the lie and let it slide as he nodded. He blew on his tea carefully, eyes peeking over the rim to stare at you. When you looked up from your coffee, he simply blocked his vision by taking a sip of his tea. When he brought down his cup, he noticed that you were staring out onto the street. He followed your gaze slowly, children walked hand and hand with their parents, the wind shook budding trees and a couple was kissing on the sidewalk.

“Sorry,” you broke Spencer away from his thought, head turning to look at you. “Sometimes I get distracted,” you explained, the light hue of your cheeks turning a shade darker. Whenever you looked at him, the only thing that you could see was his eyes, his lips. Then all you could think about was how wonderful those lips would feel pressed against yours.

Spencer could feel your eyes on him, he watched as your eyes would dip between his lips and then his eyes, repeating the movement over and over again till he felt his cheeks heating up. He convinced himself that you saw the couple and thought about him for a moment. It wasn’t uncommon for things like that to happen, and the idea of you liking him flew over his head effortlessly.

You took a calming sip of coffee, closing your eyes as you sipped the beverage, letting the warmth of the liquid warm your chest. Once you felt less flustered you opened your eyes slowly, setting down your cup with a tiny sigh. “Spencer,” Spencer’s eyes were already on you “Describe your perfect day,” you demanded gently, hands moving as you spoke.

Spencer let out a chortle, “What?”

“Tell me about your perfect day!” you urged, a tiny giggle escaping you for a second. “Do it Miss United States style,”

“A beauty pageant?”

“A scholarship program according to the movie ‘Miss Congeniality’,” Spencer’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion as you let out an audible gasp, feeling like a teenager. “Come on! The movie! Sandra Bullock is this F.B.I agent and she has to go undercover!” You explained desperately as Spencer only shook his head ‘no’.

Your hands covered your mouth, hiding the beaming smile on your face as you giggled. “Oh you would hate it,” you teased gently before letting your hands drop back down onto your lap.

“Do you still want me to describe my perfect day?”

“Very much so, yes!” you answered, scooting closer to the edge of your chair.

Spencer nodded a little, looking off to the side as he tried to think. Most of his days were spent chasing after murders, sometimes he wondered if he would ever have a perfect day; a day where he didn’t think about death. He clicked his tongue gently, “ I think it would be a Saturday,” he began, watching as you closed your eyes. He smiled as he continued, “I wouldn’t wake up before the sunrise and I would be able to sleep in, the phone is off, and by ten o’clock I’ve had breakfast.”

You opened one eye, waiting for him to continue, “Spencer, I need more than that.” you declared, closing your eyes once again.

“Fine, fine!” he hummed gently, fingers tapping against the table. “I’m with someone, maybe someone who cares about me?” Spencer questioned himself gently. “We’re not going anywhere, not talking to anyone, we’re just staying inside and watching ‘Doctor Who’.” He said, his cheeks burning as he watches you hold back a sound of adoration.

You open your eyes, clapping your hands together quickly. “I love that!”

“You do?”

“It’s very cute and relaxing. I imagined you in your pajamas, I’m thinking plaid?”

Spencer shook his head in disbelief, laughing with you. As the laughter died down, he decided it was your turn. “Okay, tell me about your perfect day,” he said, leaning forward to rest his head on his hand.

“Mine?” you said, motioning towards yourself quickly. “Well, I pick Saturday for my day as well. It’s wintertime and it’s snowing, not in a crazy blizzard way, but in a calming way. I would probably think about playing in the snow, but the heater would win that battle.” You played with the coffee stirrer, “I would stay inside, most likely watching adaptations of books turned into a film, before giving up and watching some ‘Doctor Who’.” you finished confidently, lifting your head to look back up at Spencer, a giddy smile on his face.

“You said ‘Doctor Who’ because that’s what I said didn’t you?”

“Don’t tell me that you think you’re the only one who watches that show, Spencer.”

“Well, obviously not,”

“Good,”

Spencer sent you a playful glare as you rolled your eyes at him, “You stole my perfect day, Y/N.”

“No, I simply made it better,”

“Sure,” Spencer scoffed as he watched your smile fall into a comfortable grin, feeling his face doing the same.

“Can I ask you another question?”

“No, it’s my turn!” Spencer snapped back at you in a playful tone, biting his lip as he tried to think of a question. “Would you ever want to be famous?”

“Oh, Doctor Reid!” you exclaimed, tapping the rim of your coffee cup as you gave the question some thought. “No, I don’t think I would ever want to be famous.” you paused for a second, “The money would be great and I would like the recognition, but I don’t think I could deal with the paparazzi and all the drama.”

Spencer nodded slowly, agreeing with your reasoning quickly. Spencer would hate the attention and he would hate the dramatics even more. “I couldn’t do it either,”

“But, if you were famous, what would it be for?”

“Hopefully, something intellectual,”

“Like a Nobel prize?”

“Probably,” Spencer watches as you relax in the chair, feeling consciously better that you seem better now. He knew that it could have all been a mask for him, a mask to cover up how you were actually doing. He wore a mask for a while, sometimes the mask would fall and sometimes it would get harder to take off. He knew what it was like to pretend that everything was okay, to pretend that everything was going to be okay. Spencer debated asking how you were for a second, but if you wanted him to know how you were, you would tell him.

You took a long drink from your cup, silently trying to come up with more questions to ask Spencer. You wanted to know more about him, you wanted to be a good friend. Yeah, a good friend. “Are you happy that you’ve got the weekend off?”

Spencer nodded quickly as you set down your cup, “Usually the weekend is paperwork or taken over by another case.”

You bit your lip, mulling over a question, “Do they ever get to you?”

Spencer inhaled slowly, thinking about the best way to answer, “They get to all of us, but it’s the job. It’s not easy and we try our best.” he answered, feeling satisfied as your lips turned up into a gentle smile.

“I can’t help but think that you’re amazing,” you confessed sweetly, cheeks heating up instantly. Spencer could feel heat rush towards his face, feeling very hot all of the sudden. You laughed, trying to cover up your nervous fidgeting, “No, I know that you’re amazing. Especially you, Spencer.”

Spencer felt his mouth go dry, he brought the cup of tea to his lips, trying to remain calm. He wasn’t the best when it came to compliments, he would always find himself rambling and the team would send him a look. People said he was smart and that he was intelligent, but he never heard the word amazing, it didn’t seem like he was amazing. Morgan was amazing, Prentiss and Hotch were amazing, Garcia was incredibly amazing, while Spencer was just … Spencer. “Thank you,” was all he could manage.

Your smile grew, teeth showing, “I can’t express how much you’ve helped me,”

“I didn’t do anything amazing,”

“Spencer, you sent me your favorite tea, and Oscar Wilde, you’re my white knight.” You said, laughing as you watched Spencer’s face grow a noticeable shade of red. You had to admit that he was your savior. He had helped you through the dark parts of the night and sometimes the darker parts of days. You knew that if you needed him, he would help you. He was amazing.

Spencer’s mind was still repeating the words ‘white knight’ over and over again, trying to make sense of it all. “Peppermint has great healing effects and tea, especially, has great benefits!” he babbled, the sentence coming out at the speed of lightning. “In fact, the amino acid that teas carry, theanine, helps with balancing your hormones as you drink it.” You nodded quickly, not seeming to mind that he was spewing random facts.

“Did you know that ancient civilizations, like ancient Greece and ancient Egypt, used to use peppermint as medicine?” You giggled lightly. “I googled some things about peppermint tea after you sent me some,” you admitted to him cheerfully.

Spencer felt the tension in his back dissipate, finding it comforting that you didn’t seem frustrated with him for babbling. Instead, you seemed to have enjoyed it, it didn’t seem to bother you at all. He heard your laugh and found that the sound was butterfly-inducing, a giddy smile reaching his face as he laughed along with you.

---

Spencer insisted that he walk you back to your apartment, as well as insisting that walking would be good for you as you hadn’t been out of the house in a couple of days. So, how were you supposed to refuse, he won you over with the offer with those beautiful brown eyes, you were sure of it. Your crutches made a soft clicking sound every time you moved, but you were too busy listening to Spencer talk about Oscar Wilde.

This was every librarian��s dream, to have an intelligent and dreamy man walk you home as he talks to you about the symbolism in Oscar Wilde’s ‘Nightingale and the Rose’. He demanded that it’s the story for true romantics, while you argued it was a story for hopeless romantics. Whenever you said that he would say that they were the same thing, making you laugh.

As your apartment building came into view, you felt your legs become weaker, almost like jelly. “Spencer,” you muttered as the two of you stopped outside of the lobby, “Thank you,”

Spencer’s brows knitted together in confusion, “For?”

“Being with me today,” you admitted, feeling lame as he stared at you. “I already owe so much to you,”

“You don’t owe me anything,”

“I do,” you pressed quickly, standing straighter with the help of your crutches. “I owe you some much, you didn’t have to do all of this,” you motioned between the two of you with a grin, “but you did, you’ve been such a great friend and so helpful. I can’t thank you enough.”

Spencer smiled at your thanks and simply shrugged before saying, “It's what I would want if I was in your position, I’m sorry the only thing I can offer you is a helping hand.”

“Your helping hand has been the best thing to happen to me in a long time, so, again, thank you.” you conceded, your legs no longer feeling weak as you finished. Your mind reminded you gently that the two of you had been here before, in a dream once. Shoving the thought down you smiled up at him nervously, “Would you want to come up and maybe watch an episode of ‘Doctor Who’?” you offered, your voice breaking slightly due to anxiety.

Spencer tried his best not to looked shocked at your offer, every bone in his body screamed that he should accept, “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, or for it to be weird,”

“Why would it be weird? It will be like your perfect day,” you assured him sweetly, heart beating fast at the thought of his rejecting your offer. Spencer swiped his tongue over his lips nervously and you knew that it was probably a bad idea to invite him up. It was probably a bad idea, yes, but you found that you didn’t really care. You wanted him to be around you, you wanted to be with him, just as friends.

Spencer slowly nodded, “Okay, sure,” he settles, feeling slightly more confident as you break out into a bright smile. “Who’s your favorite Doctor anyway?”

“What a silly question, you’re my favorite Doctor, obviously,”

“No, I meant in the show-”

“I know, that was me messing with you, genius.”

Spencer felt his heart crawling into his throat as he watched you get into the elevator. You frowned at him, waiting for him to get into the elevator, “Come on, Doctor.” You urged him quickly as he shuffled into the elevator. A small thought came to mind as he listened to you hum along to the elevator music, maybe he lied earlier, maybe today was the perfect day.

118 notes · View notes

it-was-summer · 3 years

Text

Masterlist

If you see two ** it means that the writing does have a some sensitive content that may be disturbing to some viewers.

The Umbrella Academy:

Five Hargreaves

- How Will I Know? (17!Five x Reader)

- I Should Be There (Five x reader)

- Mad About You ( Teen! Five x Fem! Reader)

- Warm in the Cold (Soulmate AU! Teen! five x reader)

- A Crack In the Wall (Teen! Five x Fem! reader)

- In Your Eyes (Teen! Five x Fem!reader)

- Who Do You Love? (Five x reader)

- Watch You Sleep (Teen! Five x Fem!Reader)

- Sudden Desire (Five x fem!reader)

- When I’m Away (Aged Up!Five x Fem!Reader)

- Kiss Me Once... Kiss Me Twice (18!Five x Fem!Reader)

Obey Me! Shall We Date?:

Mammon

- Dreaming of You (Obey me! Mammon x Reader)

Criminal Minds:

Spencer Reid

- Video Killed The Radio Star (Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader) Masterlist **

- Hands, Touching Hands (Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader)

#it-was-summer #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #The Umbrella Academy #obey me shall we date

127 notes · View notes

it-was-summer · 3 years

Text

Tag List:

Video Killed The Radio Star - Chapter 6 (Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader)

A/N: Hello! I’m sorry for being so inactive, I just started up college again this semester and it’s been a long week and it’s only Wednesday. I think I might try to update Sunday every week starting next week so we will see how that works out!

Warnings: Soft mention of drugs once again, They are just talking again and things are being put in motion.

Plot: Spencer and you have conversations and make some plans. You have a certain kind of dream.

Word Count: 2.1K

Spencer could feel his cheeks grow warm, a grin creeping its way onto his face. There was the pesky idea of fate repeating in the back of his mind. Spencer suppressed the idea, not wanting it to ruin the moment. He was too busy zoning out, thinking about how easy the smile on his face appeared when he heard your voice, not noticing the growing silence over the line. “Spencer?” your voice called through the phone.

Keep reading

#I love making mistakes #I always make one mistake lol #im sorry its so shot yall #please enjoy #I will try the schedule soon

204 notes · View notes

it-was-summer · 3 years

Text

Video Killed The Radio Star - Chapter 6 (Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader)

Warnings: Soft mention of drugs once again, They are just talking again and things are being put in motion.

Plot: Spencer and you have conversations and make some plans. You have a certain kind of dream.

Word Count: 2.1K

“Yes, I’m sorry, I’m here!” Spencer laughed quickly, clearing his throat nervously. “Why are you up?”

He heard you laughing over the phone, nervous knots twisting in his stomach. “Spencer, it’s seven o’clock.” You giggled, feeling lighter than you had all day. You heard him laugh nervously at himself as he muttered an embarrassment, “Right.”

Spencer licked his lips, “Why did you call?” he questioned, trying his best to relax on his couch.

You felt the weight in your chest replace the butterflies, swallowing hard. You had kept it all in, it was hard to pick the reason for your call. You took in a deep breath, blowing it out slowly. “Things have just been piling up, and I feel like I need some help.” your fingers pinched the comforter between your thumb and index.

“What kind of things have been piling up?” Spencer asked, straightening as he listened.

You pinched the comforter tighter, jaw clenching down. You didn’t want to cry with Dr. Spencer Reid on the phone. Maybe it was because you hated feeling vulnerable. You tried your best to relax and remember that he wouldn’t judge you, he said to call if you needed anything, and you did. “I don’t want to say something stupid,”

“You won’t,”

“Well, it kind of started when I left the hospital. I had a dream, a memory, one night. I could feel her, she wasn’t there, because she’s dead! Then,” you let out a calming breath, “Then, I was in my mom’s kitchen, and I saw this pink light. I was back there, like in the room, I could feel it, smell it.” You shivered, overwhelming anxiety dawning on you.

You felt safe with Spencer, you couldn’t explain why you did, but you did. Was it because he was the first face you saw that day? Or because he had come to check up on you in the hospital?

Despite your overwhelming feeling of trust towards Spencer, you couldn’t stop the tiny voice in the back of your mind that told you he thought you were crazy. Clammy hands rubbed against your pajama pants in a desperate attempt to dry them.

Spencer wanted to spew statistics, say something about how many victims experience post-traumatic stress disorder, but he stopped himself. He wanted to dig deeper, he wanted you to know you weren’t alone. He cleared his throat, trying to sound calm. “I know what it’s like, to feel like they’re still around. It seems irrational to think that a dead person is around, that getting saved was all a dream, but I know what it’s like.”

Your heart rate slowed at his words, closing your eyes as you chuckled gently. “You just have to say that because you're my federal agent,” teasing him softly over the phone.

“Hey, that’s Doctor federal agent to you.” Spencer joked, a tiny chuckle building up in his throat. “I’m saying it because I know,” he ruffled his hair as he tried to think about what to say, falling back into a silent panic. He wasn’t used to talking to people about it, especially people that he didn’t know. He tried to recall his emotions, trying his hardest to remember. He wanted to be a beacon of light for you, something to follow, something to trust. He swallowed hard, “About two years ago, I was kidnapped,”

“Spencer,” your tone was so soft, so sweet, he felt his chest pound. “You don’t have to explain anything to me,” You heard a gentle protest on the other line, shushing him. “Spencer, really, it already means the world to me that you gave me your number. You didn’t even have to pick up and yet, you did.”

Spencer hesitated, wanting to insist that he was fine with talking about it, to insist that it didn’t bother him, but he kept his mouth shut. He knew that it wasn’t something he was comfortable with talking about and you were right. He didn’t even know you, but here he was trying to convince you that you were safe. That you weren’t alone. “I’m sorry,”

“For what?”

Spencer grinned, feeling lame as he searched for an answer. After a few moments of silence, you spoke up again, “Spencer, I’m not working right now and I’m always alone,” you trailed off, your cheeks flaring, “Well, I was wondering if I could keep calling you. As long as you aren’t busy,”

You were waiting to hear Spencer’s calming voice reject you, but you could hear the excitement in his voice as he answered with an enthusiastic “Yes,”

You felt your chest tighten, “I’ll call you tomorrow at eight?”

“Eight sounds good,”

“Okay,��

“Okay,”

You quickly said a nervous goodbye, hanging up after hearing Spencer bid you farewell.

---

It was night, cool breezes blew through your hair, as you looked up with a smile. Your arms wrapped around his neck, large hands holding your hips. You ignored the excitement shooting down your spine, your body feeling nuclear under his touch, your emotions being the bomb and his touch was the impact. You felt so wonderfully warm if something touched you, you were sure it would heat up in a second.

You felt his hands move away, pulling at his neck for a thick scarf, wrapping it around your neck delicately, pulling you closer by the ends of it. He laughed, peppermint filling your senses, leaning down quickly. You caught a glance of hazel eyes before you woke up in your lonesome bed.

A pit formed in the bottom of your stomach as you push yourself up on your bed, blinking as you registered who you were just dreaming about. You let out a whisper of a desperate no, dramatically falling back down onto the bed with a groan. Your hands rubbed your eyelids, trying not to picture Spencer leaning down, trying not to remember how he smelt of peppermint. How did you even know that? You scolded yourself as you got up, throwing on some semi-appropriate clothes and heading for the door with your crutches.

You needed some air, you knew he was in your dreamland of romance because he was the last person you talked to last night. After the phone call, you spent the rest of the long night on your bed with a copy of The Picture Of Dorian Gray. Why couldn’t demonic Dorian Gray live in your dreamland? You limped into the coffee shop, holding back a giddy smile as you gave Spencer Reid’s lips one last thought.

You had spent the rest of your day, doing mindless tasks; you read, you cleaned, watched mindless television, anything to keep yourself distracted. Your mind kept drifting towards darker ends, today seemingly worse than the last. Your body yearning desperately for numbing bliss, a gentle reminder that despite all of your romantic dwellings you were still living in an unbearable existence.

You were about to endure another episode of staring up at the ceiling when there was a gentle knock at the door. You welcomed the distraction with a grin, hobbling as fast as you could, over to the door. You opened it to see a delivery woman smiling back at you as she handed you a tiny package, you signed for it quickly and politely shut the door. You sat at your kitchen table, opening the package with a tiny struggle.

It was free from all the tape now, but you couldn’t stop the sick feeling from eating at you. What if you had another stalker? How stupid were you to just bring a package into your house? After everything that had happened, you cursed yourself for your carelessness. You swallowed a quick gulp of air, opening up the package slowly. You let out the air with a tiny gasp, seeing a tiny card on the inside that read Spencer. The note was right next to a box of peppermint tea and a small copy of Oscar Wilde’s The Nightingale and the Rose.

You tried not to let it get to you as fire decorated your cheeks, you opened the note quickly, reading messy handwriting.

Y/N,

Since you said you were always alone, let this keep you company.

-Spencer

You bit the inside of your cheek, heart racing as your stomach filled with the fluttering wings of butterflies. Before you could let your mind go any farther, you suppressed them, choking the life out of beating wings in your stomach. It wasn’t fair to him, to Spencer. He was too good and you were here in your apartment, yearning for a drug to satisfy you. He didn’t need that. He shouldn’t have to fix you and he wasn’t going to be your coping mechanism.

You stood up, grabbing the peppermint tea, slipping it into the cabinet with a dramatic huff. On your way back to the couch you grabbed the book, sitting down and letting it do the job of keeping you company.

After a cup of peppermint tea, you called Spencer’s phone. You felt a very familiar lump grow in your throat as you heard the first ring. Despite being in the good company of a good book, you couldn’t stop thinking about Spencer. It seemed that thoughts of him kept you more company than anything Oscar Wilde could produce. You let yourself be convinced that he was just a friend, that he was just someone trying to help you get through a rough patch. He was just someone who understood.

Another ring. You squeezed your eyes tight, the sudden urge to hang up the phone was becoming slightly overwhelming. You were about to hang up the phone at the third ring, but then you heard a very breathless “Hello?”

Anxiety exited your system, warmth replacing the void effortlessly. “Hi,” you chuckled, hearing a heavy pant on the other end of the line, “Did I interrupt a workout routine?”

“No,” Spencer let out a breathy laugh, relaxing at the sound of your voice. It was a welcome distraction from his day, they didn’t have a case, it was just a long day. “I was just cleaning up,”

“Is the doctor dirty?” you questioned, the word choice setting in as your cheeks became a light pink, stuttering to fix your mistake. “I mean, messy! Are you messy?”

Spencer didn’t think the question was all that odd till he realized that it could have been taken out of context and then he let out a tiny chuckle, shaking his head slowly. “No, I’m not dirty, just cluttered,” he answered, a smile on his lips. “Did you get the package?”

“Yes,” Your voice rising in volume with excitement, “I did, it was perfect. Thank you so much.” A tiny piece of guilt slithering into your mind as you stole a glance over at the book next to you. You were about to speak when Spencer cut you off.

“I was just thinking about what you said last night and thought it would cheer you up,”

Your guilty thoughts came to a halt, a blush creeping its way towards your ears as you let out a gentle, “It did,”

“I’m glad it did,”

You let out a soft hum, trying to come up with something to say. You wanted to ask him how his day was, or ask him how he was feeling. But all of those questions seemed weak. You could’ve told him that you wanted to be friends, but your emotions decided for you. “Would you be alright with going out, like as friends?”

“As friends?”

“I would like us to go out as friends, yes.” your voice shook slightly with anxiety as you waited for his response.

Spencer couldn’t fight back the laugh bubbling in his chest, chuckling at how nervous you seemed. “I would love to,”

“Are you sure?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I don’t know, you might think I’m weird or something?”

“Y/N,”

“Yes?”

“I would want nothing more than to go out with you, as a friend, that is.”

204 notes · View notes

it-was-summer · 3 years

Text

Video Killed The Radio Star (Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader) Masterlist

Warning: Some Chapters do contain some sensitive material, please read with caution and please be safe!

Chapter 1 - Plot: You leave videos for the BAU to find once you find out you have a stalker.

Chapter 2 - Plot: The team works to find you before the situation escalates, you spend time in a less fiery version of hell.

Chapter 3 - Plot: The team start to piece some new information together and get a little bit closer to finding you, Morgan and Reid unknowingly meet with their Unsub.

Chapter 4 - Plot: We take a small look into Heather’s past and the events leading up to her obsession. The team seems to be missing a piece of the puzzle. Adeline comes back to the station.

Chapter 5 - Plot: Spencer Reid extends an olive branch. We explore how Y/N is dealing with the aftermath of her abduction and how she is dealing with it all.

Chapter 6 - Plot: Spencer and you have conversations and make some plans. You have a certain kind of dream.

Chapter 7 - Plot: Things start to feel better with Spencer around. Spencer and you enjoy a nice spring Saturday and Spencer gets an enticing invitation.

Chapter 8 -Plot: Spencer and you fight against all judgement and ignore the growing feelings the two of you have for each other. Spencer sends you a text.

Chapter 9 - Plot: Spencer and you become closer and closer as the days go by. You spend your days swarded with dark dreams, but Spencer seems to calm you down over a phone call. You start to heal.

#Video Killed the radio star #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #dr spencer reid #spencer x you #spencer x reader #Criminal Minds #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #Dr Reid #spencer Reid #spencer reid fanfiction #Spencer reid x reader #Spencer Reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer x y/n

240 notes · View notes

it-was-summer · 3 years

Text

Tag List:

@lexicakes @itsametaphorbriansblog @blushingspencer @ceeellewrites @wavesofafeather @lovesguiltypleasuress @skullwithemotions @k-k0129 @crazymar15 @cococrazy18 @twilightlover2007 @honestlystop @kj-1130 @padsfirewhisky @silverscreenkid @mollygetssherlockcoffee @donttellanyoneireadfanfiction @bucksgoat @haylaansmi @m3ssytrash @sheisforthebirds @justanotherfangirl @elldell1204 @sophiecalifragilistics @mylifemymuse @you-sunshine @cutelittlepotatofry @kennedywxlsh @doctorthreephds @lotties-journey-abroad @boba-king-iroh @saber-pendragon @snitchthewitch @ampal98 @chipot-lol @thatsonezesty13 @skyttlle @aprildwyer-ludgate @justanothetfangirl @kittengirl998 @obsssedwithjustaboutanything @theawkwardbutterfly @hiiwouldlikesomesleepplease @bartlebyreid @whovianofthenight @wildedove @bat-luna-cat @wubbawubwub04 @oreogutz

Video Killed The Radio Star - Chapter 5 (Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader)

A/N: Sorry for the lack of content in the past two days, I have been working a little more this week and certain things happened that made me a little depressed. I am feeling better and I am hoping that you all enjoy this new chapter! Please reach out if you ever have any questions or send me a message if you would like to share any theories!

Warnings: Talk of addiction, just emotional garbage, let me know if I missed anything!

Plot: Spencer Reid extends an olive branch. We explore how Y/N is dealing with the aftermath of her abduction and how she is dealing with it all.

Word Count:3.1K

You were screaming, your ears were ringing so it was all muffled, but you could feel the air leaving your lungs. But, before you could see anymore of the gruesome sight in front of you, a newer and prettier sight blocked your vision. You only recognized him from the photos you found of him, Spencer Reid.

Keep reading

#please enjoy once more #I love you all so much #I hope you like this chapter

267 notes · View notes

it-was-summer · 3 years

Text

Video Killed The Radio Star - Chapter 5 (Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader)

Warnings: Talk of addiction, just emotional garbage, let me know if I missed anything!

Plot: Spencer Reid extends an olive branch. We explore how Y/N is dealing with the aftermath of her abduction and how she is dealing with it all.

Word Count:3.1K

If you were in a different situation, preferably one where you hadn’t just watched someone’s head get blown to bits, you would feel embarrassed. He opened his mouth and that's when all sound returned “Y/N,” you could hear your sobs “Look at me.” Your eyes were shifting anxiously, trying to look behind him to see Heather. Spencer moved his head with yours, his eyes fixed onto yours.

You tried to speak, but all the words were lost as you sobbed, you took in a deep breath before you managed to say "Dr. Reid,” Spencer tried to hide his surprise, he knew you had researched the team, he just didn’t expect you to call him Doctor right out of the gate. “I want to go home.” you pulled in a desperate gulp of air, trying to calm down. Spencer was about to reassure you that you would be home soon, but the EMTs were already moving you. Your eyes caught one last look at Heather’s exploded head before your body went limp on the gurney.

Spencer watched the paramedics take you out, a surprising feeling of anxiety rising in his chest as he watched them leave before he turned around to focus on the corpse behind him.

You woke up to the sounds of steady beeping, eyes opening to confirm that you were in a hospital bed. Your foot was in a cast, carefully suspended as you looked around the room. You could see your mother right outside, talking to someone that you couldn’t quite see from your position on the hospital bed.

Your mother looked over her shoulder and saw that you were awake, gasping gently in awe. She worked her way back into the hospital room with a relieved smile on her face. “You’re awake,” she sighed happily, reaching for your hand. She was looking for something else to say, finding herself at a loss as she stared at her only child, her only daughter. Her eyes met yours and you gave her a tight smile.

“Hi, mom,” you said in a voice so quiet, knowing that your throat took some damage from all the screaming.

“Hi, honey,” she began to cry tears falling silently as she held your hand tighter.

“Excuse me,” a timid voice interrupted the moment.

Your attention was pulled towards the voice, smiling quickly at the sight of Dr. Reid standing there as he fidgeted with the strap of his bag, looking incredibly awkward as he did so. “Dr. Reid!” you exclaimed as your bed rose slowly so that you could sit up in the bed, you looked for the button, only to find that your mother was the one who was pressing the button.

Spencer returned your smile as he shuffled closer to the bed, “You can just call me Spencer.” He kindly informed you. “We usually don’t visit, but I, well, just wanted to see how you were doing.”

You swallowed nervously, not knowing how to answer him, “I’m alive,” you settled with a nervous chuckle, Spencer let out a tiny scoff and nodded in agreement. You turned your head towards your mother, “Can I get a moment with,” you began to say doctor before you stopped yourself, “A moment with Spencer, please?” you begged your mother sweetly as you saw the hesitation in her eyes. That was natural, of course, because her daughter had just been abducted for a good four days.

But, she left nonetheless smiling at Spencer as she did so. You cleared your throat softly, you knew that as soon as you spoke about it, the abduction, you would break. You motioned for Spencer to come closer with a grin, waiting to speak till he was at the side of the hospital bed. “You saw my videos,” Spencer blinked at your statement, waiting for you to continue. “I thought I was going crazy, seriously. Then when it happened, she,” you felt your voice crack, “She was horrible. I’m so scared, so scared, that I’ll never be able to recover.” You croaked softly, stealing a glance up at Spencer. “Will I be able to recover, Spencer?”

Spencer couldn’t help but feel like he was being thrown into the limelight with that question. He knew the correct answer was a simple yes, he could just say yes and leave it at that. His time with Tobias made him see things differently, made him want to be more inspirational, to be more open, but it was hard. “You’ll be able to recover. It’ll take time, but you can.” was all he could manage before he was digging into his bag to look for a pen of some kind. “If you ever need anything, I could,” he found a sharpie, “Could I give you my number?” He asked, holding up the sharpie with a tiny grin.

“Are you allowed to?”

“Well, I don’t think-”

“I was kidding, Spencer.” you pointed down to the cast on your foot. “Would you be the first to sign my cast?”

Spencer uncapped the pen, writing his name in bold lettering followed by his number underneath it. “It’s beautiful,” you laughed softly, turning your head to look at Spencer. Spencer felt a tiny shiver cross his spine as you graced him with a look of adoration. He nodded stiffly, heading over to the door. “Spencer,” you called.

“Yes?” He turned around, half expecting something from a romantic comedy to happen. Then again you were lying in a hospital bed, he doubted your mind was on the same track as his.

“Thank you. Please tell the rest of the team thank you for me too?” Spencer felt his smile return in a second, then he nodded, and he was gone.

***

March 16, 20XX

It was your third day out of the hospital. You were sleeping in your old room at your mother’s house, your mother didn’t want you to go back to your apartment and you had time off from your job, so you were sleeping in your old room. It was around three in the morning when it happened, you could feel something pressing onto your stomach. The memory shot through you as you sat up in a cold sweat, looking around for her. She wasn’t there, of course, thank god she wasn’t there.

You stared up at the ceiling for a while after that, waiting for sleep to crash down on you, but it never came. Every time you would close your eyes you felt, suddenly, numb, you could feel morphine in your veins. The part that scared you the most was that when you opened your eyes you missed it. You missed feeling numb and that terrified you.

It was around five in the morning that you got up, grabbing your crutches quickly, silently realizing that sleep was never going to come to you as you walked out of the room with a frown.

Two hours later, your mother emerged from her room at the sound of the television playing. Upon seeing you she frowned, but you simply patted one of the cushions on the couch and she was smiling as she took a seat next to you. You wanted to tell her how you were feeling, tell her how you felt like you needed something more to keep the edge off, but guilt consumed you. You felt so guilty for worrying her, you felt guilty for waking her up, you felt like a burden. She didn’t need to know that her daughter was thinking like that, she didn’t need to know that her daughter was feeling overwhelmed. So you sat next to her in ignorant silence, watching the television play.

It was just after noon when it first happened, you caught the tiniest look of pink light, something outside of the kitchen window. Suddenly you were in the room, in the pink room again, fire spreading throughout your body. You squeezed your eyes tight, trying to breathe, trying to calm down. You opened your eyes, blinking away panic as the sight of your mother’s kitchen reassured you that you were safe.

You let out a slow sigh, rolling your shoulders back, attempting to calm down. She was dead and you were out, safe. You shouldn’t be scared of someone who can’t hurt you, but then again people are scared of the dark and darkness isn’t even a person. You grabbed a glass, filling it with tap water, and walked back to the living room with a fake smile.

March 20, 20XX

It took about four days to persuade your mother to let you go back home to your apartment. You didn’t necessarily want to leave her house, but you were scared that with all of your anxieties and flashbacks you would worry her further. It was better to let her think that you were healthy and that you were doing better.

You waved from the doors of your apartment, watching her get into her car as you walked into the lobby of your apartment. After a momentarily struggle with your crutches, you managed to get to your apartment door. You stood outside of the door, fear making the hairs on your arms stand up as you slowly reached for the door handle.

You pushed the door in, watching it swing wide open as you quickly hobbled in, removing your keys from the lock as you shut the door behind you. Carefully limping over to your desk, you plopped down onto your desk chair. You frowned as you watched your closed computer on your desk, feeling as if you should be speaking. You hated to be alone now, you never said it out loud, but you always felt like someone was watching you now. It would be at any time of the day, morning, noon, or night and you would get the feeling that someone’s eyes were on you. That, someone, was watching you, waiting for you to be vulnerable, waiting for you to slip up and do something wrong.

You scooted closer to the desk, looking down at the photos you had printed out, chuckling to yourself as you remember how you took the time to leave tiny notes on them, they were misplaced but all of the notes were still there. You had hoped that your notes made them feel better, you wrote them in guilt. You felt guilty for your videos, feeling as if they were useless to the case, but now you could see that they helped.

After a couple of hours of cleaning your apartment, or making an attempt to clean it, you were lying on the couch trying to ignore the feelings that were washing over you. In the coming days, you were a blizzard of emotions. You would get angry at little things, flinched if something touched you when you least expected it, but the two emotions that controlled you a majority of the time were helplessness and fear.

You would yearn for some kind of release from your mind, convincing yourself that if you could get your hands on something strong enough, the world would simply melt away and leave you in mind-numbing bliss. You wanted to feel nothing again, all you wanted to do was stare at the ceiling and let your mind be empty. Right now, for example, you were alone and everything was silent, and yet your mind was screaming. Screaming in a silly panic that someone was in your apartment, screaming that something bad was about to happen, and in the darkest of times crying that the wrong person died in that room. If you were simply numb, you could float out of your mind and feel as if you were normal for a couple of hours, maybe you would feel less helpless.

Fear would enrapture you daily with a simple memory. You would wake up in the night, chest burning, phantom pain spreading through your chest as you felt a paring knife dig into your skin again. You knew you were safe, but something as simple as a kitchen knife made your heart race. That wasn’t normal, you knew it wasn’t normal. You just didn’t know who to talk to, you couldn’t think of anyone.

So you were lying down on your couch, staring up at the ceiling as you tried to think about anything else but the abduction. There was a fleeting thought, one involving Spencer Reid. He had given you his number to call if you ever needed to, but every time you would punch the numbers into your phone you would stop yourself from pressing the call button. Convincing yourself that he simply gave you his number to be nice, not because he was trying to be your friend. You realized how painfully stupid you sounded, but you decided you were right and left it alone for now.

March 21, 20XX

You were lying in your bed, feeling soft air fan your face as you opened your eyes. You smiled seeing him next to you, you couldn’t make out his face but you were comfortable with that. You let out a giddy giggle as you felt his hands wrap around your torso. You went to say his name, but that’s when you woke up.

Your heart was racing as you rolled over to your right, letting out a secretly disappointed sigh as you saw that no one was there. Heather had left you hating most romantic things, you had a personal thing against roses now, but even she couldn’t ruin romantic dreams. You were happy those were yours to enjoy still. You rolled onto your back, pressing a hand into your chest as your heart thundered in your chest. It had been so long since your last romantic endeavor, well unless you counted Heather as a romantic endeavor, which you did not. You were happy being single, but certain things would happen that would make you suddenly feel very, very, lonely. You loved, love, but you weren’t quite ready to feel it yet. Something always seemed to hold you back when in the presence of new romance, this time that thing was trauma. You couldn’t imagine being happy with anyone, especially not now.

You relaxed into the mattress, letting out a soft hum as you closed your eyes again, reliving the dream you had just seconds ago. It would be nice to have that, but it was just a dream and that was all it would be for now.

You sat up with a gentle grunt, you didn’t want today to be like the last, today maybe you would do something differently. You didn’t want to feel like porcelain today, you wanted to feel normal again. You had spent twelve days feeling broken, so maybe today could be different. You slipped one slipper on, the cast on your right leg already working as a big, hard, slipper, as you made your way towards the kitchen.

You were about to make something for breakfast, toast a bagel if that counts as breakfast when there was a gentle knock at the door. You hobbled over as fast as you could, opening it to see a man standing there with red roses. You felt your mouth go dry as you stared at them. He frowned when he looked at you, apologizing for going to the wrong apartment. You shut the door quickly but stood there frozen. You felt your chest tighten as you let stray tears fall from your eyes. You walked back into the kitchen with tears streaming down your face as you put the bagel into the toaster.

You were sitting at your kitchen table, picking at your bagel as you thought about it all. You needed to think about it because you couldn’t let something as simple as a bouquet of roses make you feel so helpless. You couldn’t let that experience hold so much power over you.

It would be smarter to visit a therapist, but you were already struggling to make ends meet, no need to add to that problem. So, for now, you were your therapist. The healthy thing would be to think about the present instead of focusing on the past, however, the past was also just twelve days ago. It was possible that in this situation it was better to simply give it time. To let the pain run its course until one day you woke up and felt better, but that was just as good as not doing anything. You had to do something, it would drive you crazy to just simply wait around to feel better. That wasn’t who you were, you took a tiny bite of your bagel.

Spencer was on the plane, coming back from a case in Arizona. He was leaning his head against the walls of the plane, gazing out the window to watch the clouds. In the past twelve days, he felt particularly strange. By strange, he felt like something was in the works. He was an avid follower of philosophy, he had a bachelor’s degree in it after all, but he didn’t know how he felt about fate. A little over fifty percent of Americans believed in fate, but Spencer didn’t know which part of the statistics he fell under; the fifty percent that didn’t believe or the fifty percent that believed.

Nonetheless, he felt as if something was going to happen. It wasn’t a good feeling, nor was it a bad feeling, it was just simply a feeling. An anxious shiver moved down his spine as he watched the clouds move, he was hoping it would be a good thing.

The sun was setting now and you, having spent all day trying to decide what could help you, watched it from your window. The sky was turning a beautiful color of purple and pink, the colors mixing as you sat on the edge of your bed. You blew some hair out of your face, picking up your phone. You looked down at your cast as you typed in the number, fingers shaking with anxiety as you hit the green button at the bottom of the screen.

“Dr. Spencer Reid,” you smiled hearing his voice, feeling unusually calm all of the sudden.

“Hi, Spencer,”

267 notes · View notes