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grippingbeskar · 1 year

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salt, ice and fire

chapter twenty one - push and pull

frank castle x fem!reader

warnings: swearing, canon typical violence, mentions of death, scars, injuries, franks a bit of a dick, then he’s sad?

a/n: i’m SORRY. i am a horrible human. this took so long and i have no idea if it’s worth it. But it needed so much editing i swear if you read the first thing i wrote you’d puke. i hope you enjoy bc i love writing angry frank and reader lmao.

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“You can’t go.” You hear Matt say, but you can’t take your eyes off Frank.

“You gonna stop me?” Frank growls back, stepping to put himself between the two of you. To his credit, the lawyer doesn’t seem intimidated, more just pissed off.

“You? I don’t care what you do— but I made a promise to that kid outside and to your girlfriend that I’d do whatever it took to help her, and I’m not letting you ruin it because you want to let off steam and kill someone.”

“You do your job, I’ll do mine.” Frank says. Matt scoffs, shaking his head.

“You make my job pretty difficult if you go and play Bonnie and Clyde all through the capital. Bobby Gnucci is on the FBI’s most wanted list, and with everything going on in the past six months, it’s too risky. Not to mention Madani, who’s giving you one shot at living a semi-normal life.” Matt turns to you now, face angled in your direction over Franks shoulder. “If you know where he is, we can use him. Make him answer for the things he’s done to you, and what he’s probably doing to others.”

Your heart was slamming in your chest, and now Frank had turned to look at you. Almost like he expected you to know what you wanted. You thought you would want him dead. You want him to suffer, to watch him die the way he made you watch hundreds of others die; at your hands. But what Matt was saying made sense, too. With Bobby alive, if you could get him to Madani, maybe your own freedom was still on the table.

It seemed like the biggest problem you faced right now was figuring out how to stay anonymous. You couldn’t risk your enemies finding out who you were, let alone finding out you had a brother. Keeping your faces out of the public eye meant if you brought Bobby in, no one would be chasing you. One more loose end to tie up.

“If I— if we brought Bobby back here, would that mean there wouldn’t be a trial?” Frank walks out of your view, shaking his head, and you hear a door close softly behind you. Your heart pulls, but Matt starts talking before you can follow him.

“It’d be the trial of the decade, but you would be kept out of it. You’d be a key witness, and I can guarantee both you and your brother would be anonymous since you wouldn’t be on the stand. Plus, Madani can cover her ass and keep your face out of it completely.” It all sounds like something out of a dream you had, something so far off but now it was right in front of you. “It’ll be like you were never there.”

Another door opens, and your brother comes through, smiling. Like, really smiling. Taking in a deep breath, the idea of having options for freedom should feel like a weight off your chest— instead, it only makes you feel heavier.

“I… I need—“

“Take some time. We have a little bit now, if you really know where he is.” Matt nods knowingly, and you hear the distracted talking of Karen and your brother on the couch. He looks at you and smiles again, and you return it.

“He’ll be there.” You were certain of it. “I should…” Your head nods to the now closed door of Matt’s room, and he smirks.

“Good luck with that.” An exhausted laugh cracks it’s way out of your throat as you head towards the door.

When you open it, Frank is pacing on the opposite side of the room. He’s walking slow, but it’s one of the few times you’ve seen his hands anything but steady. When the door clicks shut behind you, he stops, looking up and keeping the distance of the double bed between you.

“We are not playing that game again.” Frank says, looking you dead in the eye.

“Frank, this is not a game.”

“It’s a fuckin’ joke.”

“This is a chance at a real life, and you might not like it— fuck, I hate it, but these things are gonna happen. You knew involving Madani would come at a cost, and this is it.”

“So this whole thing is my fucking fault?” Your head falls back, staring at the ceiling— it was like talking to a wall.

“No. I didn’t say that.”

“You remember the last time you had the bright idea to take someone hostage?” He steps back, leaning against the wall, and your mind flashes to the Colonel. Whole lot of good that did you. “We spent twenty four hours hauling that piece of shit in the back of a car, and he gave us nothing. Instead, he lead his men straight to you, and we ended up killing him anyways.”

“I know—“

“So you think now that Murdocks flashing a brief case and a few pretty words that all this ends with him in prison?” Anger dripped from every word, but you couldn’t feel his words hitting you. He wasn’t angry at you— it was something else. “None of this ends until Gnucci and every one of his men are dead and buried. I’m not risking your life because you want to play nice all of a sudden.”

“Frank, don’t—“

“No. I know how this shit goes, and if he’s not dead, it’s not over. You’ve already killed for this guy a hundred times over, and now you have the chance to get your own back and protect your brother, you’re not going to take it? You didn’t have a problem taking down the Colonel—“

“You shut the fuck up right now!” You spit, fists clenched hard. The sharp points of your nails come out against your will, digging into the flesh of your palm so hard you can feel blood pooling. “Who the fuck do you think you are, throwing that back in my face!? When you know exactly how much I have to get him back, you fucking prick!”

“That’s —“

“Shut up! This is my chance— my fucking chance. This is what I have to do. You don’t think I want him dead? You don’t think I fucking dreamed about it every day for years on end? I want him mounted on my god damn wall— but if it’s at the cost of my brothers shot at a free life away from all this, then I will cart Bobby’s ass across the country if I have to. I’m not saying we don’t take as many of his fucking guys down with us, but if they need Bobby to give Sam a chance to live like a normal kid, I’m doing it.” The gasping of both of your heated breaths is the only sound in the room, and Franks jaw stays shut tightly. “You heard what Matt said. If we can bring him here, we can do this quietly. I know you care about Sam, you wouldn’t have taken him in if you didn’t, and I know you care about Madani, and what happens to her.”

“I don’t give a fuck about any of this if Bobby Gnucci gets to live.” Like a gun had went off, you take a step back. It was probably the most selfish thing you’d heard him say since you met him.

“That’s a lie, and you know it.”

“I’m not letting you do this.” He ignores your comment, his eyes going out of focus for a second.

“And me? If this is what I want?” He shakes his head, suddenly quiet. “I don’t want to live my life like this, Frank. I don’t want to run from people, or pretend to be legally dead. I want a—“

“A normal life. Yeah.” He sits on the floor, not looking at you. “I get it.”

“Nothing about my life is normal. I just… I want to not be worried my brothers going to die every god damn day! He was— I was never meant for a life like this. If I kill Bobby, I replace his men with the FBI, and everything he wanted to happen, happens anyway. Even if Madani fakes our death like you said, I have too many enemies, too many people that I’ve fucked with to be put in a globally accessible system like that. They’d come for me. For Sam!” You take a step around the bed, your voice getting softer as you try to take a few breaths and calm yourself down. “They’d come for you, and I can’t have that, even if you hate me for it.”

“I can handle my own shit.”

“I’m not saying you can’t, but this isn’t just New York. There’s thousands of them. It’s… you know what I did to them.” He doesn’t say anything, staring down at the floor. His head was in his hands, and even though Frank Castle was the silent type, something about this was unnerving. He was still half obstructed by the bed, but you couldn’t tell if taking a step forward would make him back up or come closer to you. You hadn’t yelled at each other like this since those shitty hotels you stayed in when you first met, and it left an acidic taste in your mouth.

“Guys like that don’t get to live. That’s not what I do.” Frank says finally, his voice muffled in his hands.

“I know. It’s not what I do, either. Like you said, I’ve killed for him a thousand times. Why should I change now?” It comes out more bitter than it should have, and Frank says something but you don’t hear it. “This is my chance to start fresh.”

“Fresh.” He grates, still not looking up. “You go get your fresh fuckin’ start.”

“Look at me.” He does, and then he finally stands up. In two, slow steps he clears the space between you. His face was hard, and he was breathing slow, like he was trying to keep himself controlled.

“You go. Get your fresh start, get your ass to Paris or wherever the hell you want to go and put all this behind you. You were never meant for this shit, right?” You blink a few times, trying to comprehend the sight before you. His eyes were a little red, and some look you hadn’t seen ever before is on his face.

“What are you talking about?”

“This is all I got! This— all this blood on your hands? It’s on mine too, but I don’t have a choice. There’s no way out. Killing Bobby is the only thing I can give you, and if that’s not what you want anymore than what the fuck are we doing?” His voice cracked, and even with all the shit he was saying your heart still broke hearing him sound like that. “This is the kind of man I am. I won’t keep your brother safe, and I’m not going to hold your fucking hand while we cart around assholes like Bobby Gnucci. I’m going to kill him— and I’m not changing my fucking mind.”

He was breathing so quick you thought he might pass out. Practically shaking, he held his ground, and you tried to drown out the sound of the TV getting louder outside. Frank must of been yelling, or at least talking loud enough for them to need to drown him out. You could see the regret in his face, in how he was practically folding in on himself, waiting for you to walk out on him. Instead, you stepped forward.

“No, you won’t.” His face was nearly touching yours, he was that close.

“No? You don’t know shit about me, then.” His voice was deadly soft. A strained whisper, voice breaking just a little. “This shit is real for me. You might not of wanted this— but I do. This is who I chose to be, and I’m not changing now.”

“I’m not asking you to change. I’m asking you to—“

“To what? Be your lap dog? Follow you around until you get bored of running? Cause I don’t get an immunity deal with the FEDS or a shiny new lawyer. This is all I got, sweetheart.” He was being mean, and any other day you’d throw it back to him, drop to his level, but his face right now was unlike you’d ever seen.

There was half of you that wanted to fight him. Throw as much venom back as he was spitting at you, be cruel and vindictive, and Hell— maybe there was a small voice in your head telling you to leave and finish this yourself. But the majority of you, the part that’s thawed out over these past few months with him knows that isn’t what he needs right now, and it isn’t what you really want. You tried to channel what he did that day in the hotel. Let him yell as much as he needed, and be there to pick up the pieces.

“I’m asking you to do this with me.” Your hands cup his face, and for a split second his eyes close, then open wide, still lined with rage.

“I can’t.” He tries to slip away but you hold him tight, fingertips borderline painful with their grip on him. He stops pulling when he feels you’re not going to let go. “I can’t let him go alive.”

“Yeah you can. You did it once before.”

“That was different. He didn’t…” Frank looks away from your eyes, at the little scar on your forehead, now completely healed. “The shit he did to you? You want me to let him go, baby?”

“Frank.” You sigh. Your shoulders sag, thumb tracing over his cheekbones.

“Christ. Fuck, I’m sorry. Let’s get out of here, we’ll get back to—“

“Do you love me?” He squeezes him eyes shut, like the question is as painful as a punch in the gut. “Frank, do you love me?”

“Fuck.” He hisses. “Don’t ask me that. Not now.”

“Too fucking bad. Answer me.” Your heart drops to your feet, terrified to hear the answer if it’s not the one you’re waiting for.

“Yeah. Yes. Yes.” Your thumb wipes away the tear on his cheek, keeping him steady as he nods. “Yes.”

“Then do this with me. We bring him back, together.” He was still nodding, eyes tightly shut, leaning against you like he’d break apart. “And Frank? This… this is not all you are.”

“Stop.” He whispers, the softness of it cracking away the hardest parts of you, turning them to warm tides. He was already shaking his head when you starting talking.

“You kept Sam safe. You did. You are that kind of man— and killing people is not all you are. It’s… that’s all I thought I was. For a long time, I thought I was a monster.” His hands grip your waist, and he leans into you further. “But you showed me I don’t have to be that. That I had choices, even if they were small. You told me I could make my own decisions, that I didn’t have to be what they made me— what I made myself into. And then, when you told me I could leave, I chose you. I chose to stay. Nothing will change that. No matter what happens next, even if you can’t do this with me, I will follow you anywhere you let me.”

“I can’t give you what you want.” You lean up on your toes and kiss his forehead lightly. “This will end for you, but it never ends for me. There ain’t a happy ending for this.”

“I don’t care. You are what I want. Even when this ends, I chose to stay. I want this, and whatever comes next. I just want you.” He hauls you to his mouth, the taste of salt and him mixing on your tongue. The kiss is desperate and pleading— apologetic and searching for forgiveness, and you give it. You could take whatever words he’d throw at you, like he would take yours. You were both stubborn and volatile and mean but it didn’t matter, because you were both here, and there wasn’t a single thing in the world that would trump the feeling of his mouth on yours.

You both only pull away when your gasping for air, one of Franks hands tangled in your hair while the other is wrapped snug around your waist. His eyes were still closed, almost like he was afraid to open them, but when he was ready you met them, like an equal. A team.

“We bring him back, alive. Kill the rest.” Frank says into your mouth and you nod.

“Burn that shit to the ground.” You say in earnest. You want that place destroyed— the lower levels were like the levels of Hell itself, and you wanted to make sure no one would ever see those walls again. “Sam—“

“Stays. If we aren’t cleaning house in Washington, he stays far away.” Frank says, and you roll your eyes.

“I was going to say that.”

“Were you?”

“Well, I don’t generally plan to bring the twelve year old on a hostage mission.” Frank blows out a breath, close enough to a laugh, and then goes quiet for a second. You know the guilt will be eating him up— he was constant like that. Guilt was practically his middle name. “You ever throw that Colonel shit in my face again, or any of it, and I’ll put you through the window.”

“I hope you do.” He looks down, searching for words he doesn’t have. He didn’t mean it, and you’d said twice as bad things to him in your time. Apologies felt like placebos at this point, and even if it was a bit mean, you’d take his real emotion over the fake shit he used to feed you any day.

“Just do what you said you would. Do this with me, and we won’t bring it up again.” You kiss him again, and he tightens his grip. You feel the press of his chest to yours tighten and release, and his head falls onto your shoulder.

“I’m scared.” He says lowly, and you physically feel your body slump in response to how… broken he sounds. “Scared of losing you. If he walks, he’s gonna come for you and the kid. I can’t lose… fuck, I can’t do it again. I can’t.”

“I am not going anywhere.” You nudge him upwards, his nose dragging along the soft skin of your neck.

“When I lost Maria and the kids… I won’t come back from that again. I couldn’t sleep, couldn’t live with myself until I knew every single one of those fuckers were dead. You’re asking me to let this guy go after what he did to you and I can’t—“

“If he ever gets out, I’ll kill him myself. Besides, you’ll be with me. What do I have to worry about?” He nods once, and you fall into silence again. This one isn’t like the others. It’s comfortable. Soothing. He holds you for a second longer, and as he lets go his hands stay reaching out, afraid to let you slip through them.

“I don’t like compromise.” His eyes meet yours again, and you have to stop yourself from sighing in relief. He looks like him again, eyes focused on you like they have been since you met him.

“Don’t pout. It’s not cute.” He scoffs, muttering something as he heads for the door.

“Come on. You wanna do this, you can be the one to tell Murdock.” You walk up next to him, feigning an innocent expression. “I ain’t feeding that guys ego anymore.”

“Oh? I thought you guys were such close friends.” Frank growls a string of curse words under his breath as you both walk back into the living room.

“She tell you I was right?” Matthew says from the couch, and you wouldn’t be surprised if Frank shoved you out of the way and knocked him on the jaw.

“Fuck off.” Frank says instead, walking to the other side of the room to stand in the corner. Matt laughs, but you still can’t take your eyes off Frank, and the subtle smile he gives Sam even though he’s clearly pissed off.

“Your phones been ringing off the hook.” Matt looks at Frank and he takes any chance to get out of the room, disappearing from view. “You sort it out?”

“We’ll bring him back. Alive.” Matt nods. “But I can’t control what happens after that.”

“I only need a few hours.” You frown, confused. “I’m a really good lawyer.”

“So I’ve heard.” He laughs again, picking up a few papers from the table. “Look, I just want to say thank-you again. You didn’t have to do any of this, and I know it isn’t the easiest situation, but… I can’t tell you how much it means. To me and Sam, and Frank. Don’t tell him I said that, though.”

“I’m happy to. These kinds of cases are why I became a lawyer in the first place. Even if it means working with guys like him.” He nods to where Frank disappeared, and you blow out a breath.

“He’s not all bad.”

“I know.” Matt gives you a knowing smile before Frank comes back in the room. His face is devoid of any emotion from your talk earlier, and a pit of dread builds in your stomach at his hard expression.

“Madani. Says Bobby’s guys just broke into my old apartment. Took everything, burnt the rest. Karen’s old place, too.” Shit. “We need to move, now.”

“Okay— just let me…” You look down at Sam, who’s already standing next to you. Frank was looking at him too, and you didn’t like the look in his eye.

“She’s got somewhere for him.” He says softly. “He can’t stay here. It’s only a matter of time.”

“Where?” Your voice cracks.

“Some kind of witness protection. There’s too many of ‘em to track. He’s a sitting duck here.” He says the last part in your ear, and Matt somehow catches it.

“He’s safe here.” Matt says, and Frank laughs.

“They found us. Karen’s place. How long you think it’s going to take for them to find this place, or the next?” He was right. You knew it, and as much as you trusted Matt and Karen, they wouldn’t be enough. “Madani’s got the doctors family out and safe. He can go with them, stay there till we get this handled.”

Your throat was tight as you looked down at Sam’s face, thinking about the last time you told him you had to leave. You’d left him enough, you had no idea how to explain this to him—

“It’s okay. I can go.” Sam stands in front of you, looking about ten years older with that determined look on his face. “I can go, and then you’ll come back after, right?”

“Of course.” You bend down further, hugging him tightly. “Can’t get rid of me now.”

He was grinning— a big difference to the kid that you pulled out of the boot of that car just a day or two ago. The bruises on his face were fading, but that wasn’t the reason he was looking brighter. He was around people, ones that gave a shit about him, and he was getting the first taste of real freedom he’d remember. He looked up at Frank, then, smiling a little wider, and it was clear you weren’t the only sibling with an affinity for him.

“Go fuck him up, then.” Sam says seriously. You think about telling him he shouldn’t swear, but if your worst problem with this kid was him saying ‘fuck’ then you’ve gotten off pretty well.

Frank was already getting the remains of your stuff together, and you spent the remaining few minutes with Sam. You can hear Matt and Frank outside, Karen having disappeared to give you some space, and when the two of them came back in the room, Matt looked pissed and Frank was hanging at the door, face blank.

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“Meet you outside.” Frank said before leaving the living room and shoving the front door of Murdocks apartment out of his way.

He had spent all of four hours in that place, and it was four too fucking many. He was on edge now— and the argument with you was still heavy on his mind. Now Madani was calling with more bad news, and he started to feel like a caged animal.

He knew he was out of line with some of the shit he said, but like he told you; he was fucking scared. Last time he let someone live instead of just killin’ him it came back to bite him in the ass, and innocent people died. Because of him. His family was dead because he didn’t take care of the shit he should of. That wasn’t even the half of it. What he knows this guy has done to you, Frank wasn’t sure he was gonna have it in him not to put a bullet between his eyes the second he saw him.

He just couldn’t say no to you. Not when you asked him like that.

Walking outside, he leant against the car, rubbing the palms of his hands on his jeans. He could put it down to how many things could go wrong back in Washington, or the phone call with Madani, but really, the thing that was giving him sweaty palms and a headache was what you asked him. And what he’d said.

“Do you love me?”

“Yeah. Yes. Yes.”

He knows it’s not the first time he said it. The last time he wasn’t even sure if you’d caught it— your eyes rolled back in your head and you saying his name all high pitched and whiney like he loved to hear. He couldn’t help it; basically poured out of him. You’d looked so fucking pretty under him, and twenty four hours without you was enough to give him withdrawals. It made him nervous as shit, though, doesn’t matter how true it was.

He saw you come out the front of the apartment block, walking straight towards him. Frank was half sure you were going to come to your senses and walk up and smack the shit out of him, but you started to slow down just in time to wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him.

He couldn’t remember anything he was thinking about before, just that you were threading your hands in his hair like you always did, and he chased the feeling as you pushed against him. His hands went to your hips, bending down further so he could take control. He didn’t give a fuck about the people walking past, he let his hands wander wherever made you moan in his mouth the loudest, smiling a little as you squeaked when his hands grabbed a little harder on your ass.

You pulled back first, breathless and smiling, but he could see in your eyes you’d cried a little before you came down here.

“You okay?” You nodded quickly, kissing him again. He knew it was probably leaving Sam that had you upset, but he’d given you a hard time, too.

“Mhmm.” You hummed against his mouth. “You drive.”

“Huh?”

“You were a dick. You can drive.” You lean up to kiss him again, but before he can react you shove him out of the way, sliding yourself into the passenger seat. He blows out a laugh, closing your door for you.

“Yes, ma’am.” He can see your smile even through the tinted windows. It’s probably the sweetest thing he’s seen in a while.

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“These, too.” You drop another magazine on the counter, and Frank looks down at you with a blank face. “What?”

He pays for the items, two bags full of shit you probably don’t need and snacks you won’t get through, but you were milking this apology for all it was worth. Besides, with you only being an hour out from Washington, things were about to get complicated. You would take every light moment you could.

“A little help?” You struggle with the overflowing bags, and Frank looks back at you.

“You’re fine.” He says, walking straight back out to the car. As you trail behind him, he’s almost enjoying watching you juggle your shit to the car, but he opens the door for you anyways. Sliding back into the front seats, Frank pulls out onto the highway. “Murdock texted. Sam made it safe.”

“You texting him?” Frank makes a sound, some kind of growl that makes you smirk. “Maybe I should be the one who’s jealous.”

“Funny.”

“I feel like shit. Palming him off.” You watched the muscles in Franks face twitch as he shook his head.

“You’re not palming him off. It’s keepin’ him safe. Besides, the way Madani told it, Doctors family was more than happy to take him in. Said they owed you their lives.” The thought makes you feel sick. They didn’t owe you anything— you were half the reason they were in danger in the first place. “They got kids, too. It’ll be good for him.”

“Yeah.” Frank puts his hand on your thigh, and your breath shakes for a different reason. He keeps it there, thumb stroking up and down just a little higher than normal, and you catch him glancing at you through the mirror.

“This’ll be over soon. All this shit.” Frank says, his voice a tone softer.

“I nearly choked last time I saw him.” Franks hand got tighter on your thigh, knowing you were talking about Bobby. “Going back there, knowing he’s waiting… it’s just freaking me out.”

“I’m not gonna let ‘im anywhere near you.” He stopped himself for a second, keeping his eyes on the road when he spoke again. “You don’t have to do this.”

“Sure I don’t.”

“You don’t. You… look, I can go in there, clean this shit out, meet you back in New York in a day.” You swallowed a laugh— because only he would make any of this seem that simple. Sure, you could give this over to him, or Madani, or you could have just told Karen where he was, and within the day it would be swarmed by agents.

All this could be over, and you could wash your hands of it.

But the truth was— even if you didn’t want to say it out loud, or admit it to anyone, you wanted this. You chose this, to finish this with your own two hands. You might not have wanted to turn out like this, but it was who you were now. You look at Frank, someone who’s life would have been completely different had he chosen a different life, but here he was. He had chosen to live like this, gotten the revenge he needed, and it might have taken a part of him with it, but you still looked at him and saw good.

For all the violence and blood on your hands, this was one time you were going to get what you needed— what you deserved.

“No. I want this.” Is all you said, and the two of you drove in silence, Franks hand never moving from your thigh.

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dr-spencer-reids-queen · 8 months

Text

Memoriam: Part Four

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.8k

Summary: Spencer is investigating the death of his “imaginary friend” that’s not so imaginary. On the other hand, you’re finding out more about your family than you thought you knew. Why are you now getting the ick when you never had this before? What does it all mean?

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

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

"Thank you for seeing us on such short notice."

"Well, I'm always happy to assist the FBI. Is there a witness you want me to look at?"

"Yeah. Me. I'm trying to recover memories from my childhood. There was a murder."

"How long ago are we talking about?"

"I was four."

"Memories from that age can be difficult to interpret," Jan sighs.

"I'm aware of the limitations of hypnotherapy."

"Then you're aware of suggestion issues. If you've looked into this case, you may have a bias."

"Are you saying what he remembers under hypnosis may not be real?" you ask.

"It's a possibility. Either way, it's a tough sell in court."

"We won't be using this for evidentiary purposes. It's really just for me. The suppressed memories are about my father."

"If it's okay with you, I'd like to be here to watch."

"You want to sit in? I don't normally allow that."

"I want her here, please."

"You won't even know I'm here."

Jan brings you and Spencer to a better room for this kind of thing. Spencer lies down on the couch, and you sit on the single sofa away from them to give them space.

"I want you to hold my wrist in your left hand, and if you should feel any fear, I want you to squeeze, do you understand?"

"Yes."

Spencer looks over at you to make sure you're still there, and you give him a small smile to let him know he is going to be okay. Spencer rests his head on the pillow and closes his eyes to focus on Jan's voice.

"Go back to the night you were just telling me about. You're at home, in your room. You can't sleep because your parents are arguing."

"He's coming in."

"Who?"

"My dad."

"What about him, Spencer? What is he doing?"

"I don't want to be here," he says fearfully.

Spencer's fear is enough to roll over to you, and you grip the edges of the armrests. Tears pool in your eyes, but you have to tell yourself this isn't your fear. Spencer is hurting, and you can't do anything but sit back and watch.

"It's okay, Spencer. Take us to where the light is, to the next morning. The sun is coming up. Where are you, Spencer?"

"Mom? My mom. She's at the window. She's thinking. She's been crying. She saw him."

"Who? Your father? Do you talk to her?"

"No. No, I wanna--I wanna see..."

Spencer squeezes her arm tightly, signaling that he doesn't want to do this anymore. He is full-on panicking right now, and you need this to end.

"What is it, Spencer? What are you seeing?"

"No, you need to stop this. Please," you beg and rush over to Spencer. "He doesn't want to do this anymore!"

"I need you to leave this location now, Spencer."

"Wake him up!"

"I'm going to count backward from five. Five, four, three, two, one, and wake."

Spencer jerks awake, and you put a hand on his forehead to let him know you're here. He is this close to crying, and it breaks your heart into two.

"Spencer, baby, it's okay. I'm here. You're okay. What happened? What did you see?"

"I need to talk to my mom," he pants.

"Okay, let's go. Thank you, Jan."

"My pleasure."

The only person who might be able to help is his mother. Diana knows something, but because of her illness, it's not going to be easy. Spencer saw his mother with bloody clothes on, and then he saw his dad in the backyard burning those same clothes. They know something, and they're not telling. Diana keeps saying the same thing whenever Spencer tries to ask her about it, and this is no different.

"Try to remember, Mom," Spencer begs.

"No, I can't."

"You were there. You watched Dad burn the bloody clothes."

"You had a dream."

"Mom, this was not a dream. This was a memory. It was a memory and I saw you."

"Your mind is such a treasure," she admires. "Even as a baby, you knew about things you weren't supposed to know."

"This is not about me. This is about Riley Jenkins."

"It was always about you."

"Please, mom. Please, just try to remember. Remember Riley."

"Riley? Riley was real. Oh, poor Riley," she gasps sadly.

"Yes, poor Riley. Did Dad do something to him?"

"Dad? No."

"Think, Mom," Spencer says, getting a bit frustrated with her.

"No, no. That's--no, no. Now you're confusing me, Spencer."

"You knew. You knew about Dad, and you didn't do anything."

Something snaps inside Diana's mind, and she starts freaking the fuck out. She starts slamming her hands to her head, and if someone doesn't stop her soon, she will hurt herself.

"No! You don't know! No! No!"

Doctors and nurses rush in as soon as they hear her, and one of the nurses has a sedative that will calm her down easily. Spencer hates seeing his mom this way, and he hates that you're seeing this.

"I'm just going to give you something to relax."

"No... it could have been you," she whispers painfully.

"What? What did you say?" Spencer asks.

"It could have been you."

You two leave to give her some time to calm down, and Derek and Rossi are waiting outside of the building for you two to return. Spencer is too distraught to speak, so you tell Rossi and Derek what happened.

"She's not stable, Reid. You can't put stock in what she says. I don't need to tell you that," Derek sighs. "I don't need to tell you this is textbook. Father reroutes compulsion to molest away from his own son to a surrogate. The woman thought Riley was an imaginary friend until you told her otherwise. That's the mind's way of suppressing memories she doesn't want to face. You're losing objectivity here, kid."

"I'm not trying to say I know what happened or how my dad's involved, Morgan, but my dad's involved."

"He didn't kill him, Spencer. I've looked many murderers in the eyes, even the ones who were trying to hide what they did. Your dad didn't murder or molest Riley."

Spencer looks at you with a look of betrayal, and you can't help but feel bad about this. He needs an answer, so he turns to the one person who makes the most sense, which is also the person who abandoned him. There are underlying issues between him and his dad that go beyond what's at stake here.

Spencer is still hell-bent that his dad has something to do with this, so he drags you, Rossi, and Derek to the same police station that Detective Hyde is in. If anyone is going to help Spencer, it's the detective who was on the case originally.

When you get to the police station, you see Lou Jenkins leave. He looks over at your group before continuing on his way away from it. Spencer is confused as to why he's here, but he goes inside nonetheless to speak to Detective Hyde about holding his dad until he has more evidence against him.

"I'd like to request that you hold Will Reid and detain him until further notice."

"You got no evidence against him."

"A suspect can be detained for questioning for forty-eight hours, regardless of evidence."

"I'm not in the habit of ruining people's reputations on a whim."

"Where's your captain? I want to talk to your captain."

"Spencer," you hiss, but he doesn't pay you much mind.

"Talk all you want. This is a local murder, and your authority ends at the state line. Why don't you just head back over to the Fountain View, have a couple of drinks by the pool, and think about this."

"I have thought about this."

"This guy's your father."

"What's your point, Detective?"

"Maybe you're here to work out some other issues?"

A wave of anger washes over you that's coming from Spencer, so you put your hand on his shoulder and take over.

"Detective Hyde, I understand the circumstances here. It's not every day this happens. We'd really appreciate it if you'd help us out here."

Detective Hyde looks between you and Spencer, and you look at him with sympathetic eyes.

"You've got twenty-four hours."

"I really appreciate that. Thank you."

Before Spencer says something that will upset the detective, you and Derek pull him off to the side to speak to him privately.

"Reid. You gotta keep your head, man."

"He just agreed to it. It happens all the time."

"Spencer, he's right. You're letting your emotions get the better of you."

"That's rich coming from you," he says angrily.

You know he's not really angry at you but angry at the entire situation. It's why you'll let this comment slide. Spencer leaves the police station to get some air, and this time, you let him have his space. Derek's phone rings, and he places Pen on speakerphone once he sees it's her calling.

"Talk to me, Garcia."

"So, this Gary Michaels you asked me to track down seems to have peeled himself right off the grid."

"What did he do? Skip town?"

"Apparently. Maybe he took a new name, too. Everything in his name lapsed from non-use in the year after Riley's murder."

"Maybe he didn't want to stick around for the investigation," you suggest.

"In addition to the indecent exposure wrap, he also had some lewd behavior for trespassing at a nursery school," JJ says. "It's hard to believe the cops never pegged this guy as a suspect."

"Any other avenues to find him?"

"You betcha. They swabbed him in '85 for the exposure thing, so I'm sending up balloons through ViCAP and CODIS."

"If he's offended again over the past twenty years under a different name, and we all agree he probably has, then he will pop up somewhere."

"Alright, keep us in the loop."

"Will do."

Thanks to Detective Hyde agreeing to bring Will in, it's not long before Spencer's dad is brought in for questioning. Spencer comes back in just in time to see his dad go into an interrogation room.

"You still think he did it, don't you?"

"Why shouldn't I?"

"Well, for one thing, Gary Michaels fits the profile. For another, he fled town after Riley's murder. He's a better suspect than your dad, Reid."

"He's a convenient one. Someone slipped the file under my door, Morgan. What am I supposed to think?"

"Maybe they're trying to help."

"Maybe they're trying to frame him."

"Spencer, think about what you're saying. I think Derek is right here. Your dad didn't murder Riley."

"I can't believe you, of all people, are taking Derek's side on this."

"I'm not. I'm just saying--"

"Well, don't just say," he cuts you off angrily.

Why is he acting like this? He's not even listening to your side of the story.

"Reid, you're talking about someone helping to cover up the murder of a child. Who would do that?" Rossi asks, breaking the tense silence.

"Do you remember how resistant Detective Hyde was when I asked him to bring in my father?"

"So, what, you're accusing a cop now?" Derek asks.

"It was a police file."

"It was a very old police file. Anybody could have accessed it."

"He told me to go back to the Fountain View, have a drink by the pool, and think about things. I never told him we were staying at the Fountain View."

Spencer leaves the group without so much as a look at you.

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

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shemarmooresfedora · 3 years

Text

Home

Series Summary: After being arrested, Spencer Reid desperately tries to get back home to his daughter, Camellia, who was placed into foster care in your home.

Pairing: Single!Dad!Spencer x Foster!Mom!Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Content/Warnings: mentions of Diana’s Alzheimer’s and Schizophrenia, prison, separation of father and daughter, swearing

A/N: i hope you guys enjoy my new fic! this may be about 8 chapters or so! i’m not sure yet, going to see how interested people are in the plot :) (also quick disclaimer: i have never been in the foster care system so please excuse any inaccuracies)

Masterlist

Chapter 1

Spencer never wanted his daughter to see him like this, being brought into the BAU bullpen in handcuffs. He was supposed to be the good guy.

Right now, he couldn’t tell if he still was. He had good intentions going down to Mexico to get non-FDA approved medicine for his mom but he may have killed someone in the process. If only he could just remember.

Camellia ran into his arms to hug him, a hug he so desperately wanted to return if it wasn’t for these stupid cuffs around his wrists.

“They can’t just take you away, Dad,” she cried.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I’m going to get back to you as soon as possible,” he promised, kissing the top of her head.

Spencer felt absolutely crushed as the guards had to drag his crying 11-year-old off of him so he could be taken to his holding cell.

You had just gotten off of work when your phone rang. Eileen, the head foster care coordinator, was calling.

“Hello,” you answered.

“Hey Y/N,” she greeted you, “I know you haven’t had a foster kid in a few months but I kind of have an urgent case. 11-year-old sixth grade girl. Mom has been out of the picture for a while, Dad recently imprisoned and on trial for murder. There are a bunch of family friends willing to take her but no direct family,” she explained.

“I can take her for as long as she needs,” you told Eileen.

“Great! I’ll text you the address, it’s the FBI headquarters.”

When you walked into the BAU, still in your dino scrubs and white lab coat, Eileen was surrounded by a frantic group of people.

“As I said before, I don’t doubt any of your credentials but this is the law. We can only give away a child to direct family at this point in time. If you are not direct family, you will need a lawyer to fight for custody as well as permission from her father but that process could take months,” Eileen stated.

“Spencer hasn’t spoken to his father in years and his mother is in a facility for her schizophrenia and Alzheimer’s,” a dark-haired woman spoke.

“Exactly so she must be turned over to the foster care system. I apologize to you all but this is how it works. We can’t bend the rules,” Eileen said.

“I don’t want Callie fending for herself in a house with 20 other kids,” a blonde-haired woman argued, “I’m her godmother. She stays with me all the time. She was staying with me while Spencer was in Mexico.”

“Sorry, my answer is still no. But, hopefully this will squash your concerns, Y/N!” she called you over, “This is Y/N. Jo will be placed with her. She is a pediatric doctor and currently has no other foster kids at the moment but all of her past kids have absolutely adored her. She always passes her surprise safety and wellness checks with flying colors.

“Hi,” you waved, intimidated by this huge group of frustrated people with guns on their hips.

“A doctor? So she isn’t even going to be home most of the time,” a curly-haired man scoffed.

“Actually, I own my own practice. I don’t work at a hospital so I usually have a regular 8-4 shift unless one of my patients needs urgent attention,” you clarified.

“JJ, don’t make me go,” a girl, who you could only assume was Callie, sobbed.

They were all staring at you like you were the worst person on Earth. You wanted to shrivel up and die. When you went through the process of becoming a foster parent, you thought this was a very admirable thing to do. You just wanted to provide a good home to kids in need.

“Do any of you have a key to Dr. Reid’s residence so Camellia can pack a bag?” you asked politely.

The woman closest to Callie that must be JJ pulled a key off of her chain and handed it to you.

“I’ll-um-leave my phone number and address here so you guys can contact me at any time or stop by. I understand your concerns but please know I try my absolute hardest to make sure all kids feel welcome and safe in my house,” you scribbled your information down on a scrap piece of paper.

“Are you ready to go, Camellia?” you asked softly.

She went around hugging everyone in the circle before solemnly nodding to you.

God, you felt like such an asshole.

After Callie finished packing her things from her bedroom in relative silence, you returned to the car.

“I don’t know what you like to eat but we can stop at the grocery store so we can get stuff you like and any other things you need,” you said.

You were met with silence from the backseat. You offered for her to sit in the passenger seat but she declined.

“Listen, I’m really not trying to be the bad guy here. Please don’t make me out to be one. I know you are having a tough time with your Dad’s situation right now but shutting everyone else out won’t help,” you spoke softly, “Trust me, I know.”

You sighed when the silence continued. You pulled out of the Reid’s driveway and headed to the grocery store.

You let Callie lead when you entered the grocery store, opting to follow behind her with the cart. She went immediately to the frozen meal section and started throwing them in.

“Camellia, that’s fine if those are what you want but just so you know, I love to cook so I can make you anything you want,” you offered.

“This is what I’m used to,” she spoke sharply, “My dad is not a bad dad, he just usually doesn’t have much time.”

“I never claimed he was,” you defended yourself.

After that, you kept your mouth shut. Clearly, she was a very independent girl and she had her own routine she liked to stick to.

You hauled all the grocery bags inside the house and unloaded them as Callie brought in her suitcases.

“So Camellia, I put all the food you picked out in these two cabinets. I mean obviously, you are welcome to anything in the kitchen but I just wanted you to know where the things you picked out were. I always have a grocery list on the fridge that you can add to,” you began to give her a tour of the house, “Bathroom is in there. There’s another upstairs. Here’s the living room with a TV,” you headed up the stairs, “Here’s my room.”

On your bed was an adorable toyger kitten cuddled up on your pillow.

“Oh! This is Winnie like Winnie the Pooh. I just got her a few weeks ago from a shelter. She is super friendly and loves snuggles so she will probably try to sneak into your bed unless you keep your door closed.”

“I don’t mind,” Callie spoke softly as she petted Winnie.

You smiled softly. These were the first words you got out of her that weren’t a rejection.

You continued the tour, “There’s a bathroom between our rooms but I tend to use the downstairs one so feel free to make it your own. And here’s your room,” you opened the door to a white room with a queen bed in the center, a small bookshelf, a few plants, and paintings.

“I hope this is good enough for now. We can go out this weekend to a home goods store if you want to redecorate. I’d even be open to repainting it if you want,” you offered.

Callie just set her bags down and nodded.

“Alright, I’ll leave you be. I’ll probably be downstairs for a while watching TV if you want to join. Let me know if you want me to make you anything,” you began to shut the door but Winnie slipped in first.

“Good night, you guys,” you smiled softly.

“Do you want me to wait out here or come in with you?” you asked softly.

Spencer had been denied bail, meaning he was transferred to a federal prison and Callie was going to be staying with you for a while. She had taken the news rather hard as expected when the team came over to your house to tell her. You still weren’t really accepted by the group so you mostly stood in the corner of the kitchen while they were all in your living room.

You had spoken to Eileen several times about Callie’s current situation. She gave you permission to do whatever you saw fit. This means you could opt her out of school one or two days a week if she wasn’t feeling up to it as long as she emailed her teachers and got her missed work in on time. You were researching different therapists for her to talk to because she didn’t seem to want to open up to you. You were also given a schedule of visiting times for her to visit her dad in prison.

“I’ll just go in alone,” she walked in the door to the visiting room, leaving you in the waiting room.

“Dad,” Callie tried to hug Spencer but the guard pointed to the ‘No Touching’ sign posted on the wall.

They both sat down defeatedly at opposite ends of the table.

“How are you?” Callie inquired, wiping her tears away from seeing her father locked up.

“I don’t want to talk about me, sweetheart. How are you? Emily and my lawyer visited yesterday and told me you had to be placed into foster care,” Spencer asked, concerned.

“It’s okay. Not the best,” she sighed.

“What’s happening? Are they hurting you? Are they not giving you enough to eat? Callie, I’ll have my lawyer on the phone and you out of there so quick,” Spencer frantically stated.

“No, Dad. Y/N is fine…nice, even. But she’s not you,” Callie cried.

Spencer’s face softened, “I’m so sorry, Callie. You don’t deserve to be dealing with any of this.”

“Just please come home,” she sniffled.

“I’m trying, sweetheart, I’m really trying,” he replied earnestly with tears in his eyes.

A/N: i will also be starting a series taglist if you don’t want to be added to my main taglist so just clarify which one you want to join! also i recommend listening to the song Home by Phillip Phillips because it is kind of like the theme song for this story

main taglist (just ask to be added/removed!): @samuel-de-champagne-problems @g0lden-cth @spencerreid9 @averyhotchner @coldlilheart @k-k0129 @ickleronniekinsemotionalrange @harrystylesandthegoobs @cmily @jswessie187 @rem-ariiana @hoodpankow @mochionly @spencerreid-187 @babymetaldoll @fics4arainyday @ssavanessa22 @all-tings-diego

series taglist: @ilovespencerreidmarryme

#spencer reid angst #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #dr spencer reid #cm fanfic #spencer x reader #reid x reader #criminal minds

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dothwrites · 3 years

Note

13 and 20

13. and 20.--Detective AU and Teacher AU

---

Castiel represses a sigh as he stands up straight. His spine pops as he subtly stretches out the kinks in his aching body.

He'd thought that he was a reasonably fit man, but bending over and scrubbing at filthy floors and tables every day is playing hell with his lower back.

The bell rings, and Castiel curses under his breath as he moves back against the wall. Less than thirty seconds later, all of the doors near him burst open and a flood of teenagers courses into the hallway.

Castiel's had a lot of unpleasant assignments in his life, but going undercover at Carver Edlund High School is among the worst. He thought that he'd seen some of the worst that humanity had to offer: murderers who cared nothing for the pain of their victims, kidnappers who plunged families into turmoil for years, robbers who were willing to kill just in order to get a few quick bucks. But upon seeing the horror show of the cafeteria after a group of freshmen finished lunch, Castiel has to start reevaluating his list of atrocities.

The tardy bell rings, and Castiel sighs as he steps out in the hall. He rolls his eyes at the debris that the students have left behind and grabs his push broom to start clearing it away.

Going undercover at Carver Edlund wasn't Castiel's first choice of assignments, but with several students ending up in the hospital due to drug overdoses, something drastic had to be done. Castiel's job is simple: gather as much intelligence as he can about where the drugs are coming from. If possible, he's to find the dealer and shut the whole production down.

In theory, it's a good assignment. Success here would mean a potential commendation, maybe a promotion if the operation is big enough. But the reality of the situation is much different. Castiel's been masquerading as a member of the maintenance team for a little over a week, and he's no closer to finding the source of the drugs than he was when he started.

His captain had ultimately decided to send him in as a member of the janitorial staff for access reasons: as a janitor, he has keys to every door. Not even lockers are safe from him. There's no place in the school off-limits to him. Unfortunately, it also means that his opportunities for questioning potential suspects are limited: no high school student wants to have long conversations with the janitor. He's reduced to sweeping around gaggles of kids, hoping that they'll just so happen to let something slip.

His plan hasn't worked. So far, he's learned about the latest TikTok challenge, who's rumored to have slept with who, and who on the football team is getting suspended, but drugs? Either these kids are savvier than he gives them credit for, or they don't know anything.

"Oh, sorry, 'scue me... Oh. Hi, Steve."

It takes Castiel just a second too long to respond to the name. Part of that is because he's still not used to answering to his cover name, and part of that is because he's still not sure how to act around Dean Smith.

He braces himself before he turns around, but that still doesn't prepare him for the sight of Dean Smith leaning against the wall. Looking at him is like looking into the sun, if the sun was in a dingy hallway with flickering florescent lights and questionable stains on the floor. Even with those inauspicious surroundings, however, Dean Smith, with his sandy hair, vibrant eyes, freckles, and bright, crooked grin, stands out.

"Hello, Dean." Castiel allows the hint of a smile to cross his face. He'd called Dean 'Mr. Smith' exactly once before Dean had put a stop to it.

"Oh, no," he said, grimacing in distaste, "I get enough of that from the kids. Just Dean, man." Castiel hadn't argued, and the slightly stuffy Mr. Smith became Dean.

"Another beautiful day cleaning up the debris of the world?" Dean gestures towards the small pile of dirt and dust that Castiel has managed to collect.

"It's a dirty job, but someone's got to do it," Castiel answers.

No doubt his superiors would be screaming if they could see him right now. Zachariah, his Captain, would sneer, You're there to catch drug dealers, Novak, not to play nice with pretty boy teachers, but Zachariah isn't here right now. Plus, it's not like Castiel's making any headway on the drug dealers, so he might as well indulge his crush with a guy who's miles out of his league.

Dean is the kind of good-looking that gets noticed by modeling companies in the line at the cafe. Castiel has found himself wondering, more than once, what a guy like him is doing substitute teaching. It's obvious that Dean is smart, and he doesn't doubt that he could have a job doing whatever he wanted. Still, Dean's being a substitute teacher works out well for him, so he doesn't complain. Not if it means that he can be just a little closer to him.

Maybe if Castiel wasn't undercover and wearing an unflattering jumpsuit with the name 'Steve' stitched across the front pocket. Maybe if he were dressed in his customary suit and had a badge and gun to flash around. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

"Don't talk to me about dirty jobs," Dean says, his voice entirely too low and insinuating for the circumstances. Heat blooms underneath Castiel's collar.

"Well, I'm not sure what else to talk to you about," he confesses. He resents the broom handle in his hands.

Dean shrugs. His smile is still carefree, but there's something else in his eyes when he says, "What about any books that you've read lately? TV shows that you've watched?" His eyes flash to Castiel's, and his tongue flirts with his lower lip as he asks, "Restaurants that you'd like to go to?"

Castiel's heart stutters. For a second, it sounded like... But that can't be right. Dean can't be inviting him out. Guys like Castiel don't go out with guys like Dean. That's just the way the world works. Maybe if he was Detective Castiel Novak, but now when he's Janitor Steve.

He takes a second too long to answer. By the time that he's managed to figure out that Dean is serious, Dean's expression has shuttered. He flashes a painfully fake smile at Castiel. "Hey, man, don't worry about it. I'll catch you later, okay?"

He's turning to go, and fear grabs at Castiel. He knows that if he lets Dean walk away, then everything will change between them. No more jokes, no more stolen conversations in the hallways. They'll become nothing more than vague, uneasy colleagues, at least until Castiel's assignment ends and he disappears forever from Dean's life.

The indignity of his assignment and the frustration of his ineptitude rises in Castiel, and bursts out of him in a quick call. "Dean!"

Dean turns around. Hope flickers in his eyes before he hides it. "Yeah?" he asks. The carefully blank tone in his voice is like a knife twisting in Castiel's chest.

"I like Italian food," Castiel answers. He offers a hesitant smile towards Dean, hoping against hope that Dean will accept his overture.

After a second, Dean's smile spreads slowly across his face, as bright as the sunrise. "Yeah," he says, nodding slowly, "yeah, I think we could do that."

---

Dean's heart dances in his chest as he walks away from Steve.

He did it. After weeks of ogling and tentatively flirting, he finally asked out the hot janitor.

Steve is a lot more than a pair of pretty blue eyes and a five o'clock shadow that makes Dean's lip yearn for stubble burn, though. (Though Steve does fill out a jumpsuit better than anyone Dean's ever seen. One day, he was lifting a desk onto the dolly so that it could be moved, and Dean thought his eyes were about to pop out of his skull. Between the thick thighs attempting to pop the seams on his pants, and the biceps rippling, Dean hadn't known where to look.) Steve has a wicked sense of humor, an innate sense of kindness, and he's caught every single one of Dean's literary references (the pop culture ones, not so much. Seriously, who's never seen Indiana Jones?). There's more to Steve than meets the eye, and Dean's itching to peel back the dozens of layers.

He ignores the tiny voice in the back of his head (which sounds like an alarming mix of Sam and Bobby) saying Don't get too involved. This is a temporary thing. Dean frowns and tries to tell the voice to shut the fuck up.

He's only here for as long as it takes him to figure out who's bringing drugs into the school. At the first viable lead, he'll be yanked out, and Dean Smith, substitute teacher, will die, to be replaced by Agent Dean Winchester of the DEA.

Because of the environment, there are multiple law enforcement agencies working on this case. There's state police, the DEA, and maybe even a few FBI agents sniffing around. It's naive to believe that there aren't other agents working in the school, but he hasn't come across any yet that he knows of. He's not entirely sure; he lets Bobby deal with all of the inter-agency bullshit. He has his mission and his cover, and Bobby, as his handler, can navigate every other pitfall.

Beyond small talk and leading conversations, Dean hasn't tried to get close with anyone. Every smiling face could conceal an undercover agent or a dealer. With suspicion everywhere, it's best not to succumb to temptation.

Which makes his attraction to Steve all the more intriguing.

Just thinking of the other man sets off a series of fireworks in the pit of Dean's belly.

This is probably a terrible idea, doomed to failure, but Dean is going to enjoy the ride while it lasts.

Whistling, he goes back to the classroom and prepares for his next class.

#destiel #destiel fanfic #destiel fic #deancas #deancas fic #supernatural #supernatural fic #dean winchester #castiel #teacher au #detective au #dothwrites #i forgot how much i loved tumblr ficlets

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samuel-de-champagne-problems · 3 years

Text

Band-Aids Don’t Fix Bullet Holes, But Your Kisses Do

summary: in a standoff with an unsub, reader makes a choice: her life or spencer’s.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader

category: angst/fluff at the end

warnings/includes: canon typical case violence, based off of episode “haunted” so spoilers, guns/gun violence, hospitals, kissing, mentions of hotch’s stabbing

word count: 3437

author’s note: i wrote this one a while ago and thought i’d share it. if anyone wants to be tagged, i’m going to figure it out and i’ll add you to a tag list!!

Band-Aids Don’t Fix Bullet Holes, But Your Kisses Do

The two agents that sat on swivel chairs facing each other fake arguing about an episode of Dr. Who. Spencer had his legs straight out, resting on Y/N’s lap comfortably. She leaned forward and placed her chin on her hand as she explained to Spencer her thoughts on the episode.

“Spencer, you cannot tell me that you don't think David Tennant is hot! I watched the episode with you and I can tell you are-"

“I’m not going to argue against that, Y/N. David Tennant is,” Spencer started as he fiddled with the lollipop that Garcia handed him when he and Y/N walked into the bullpen.

“Is what, Spence?” A teasing look graced her face as Spencer’s blush grew down his exposed neck and collarbone.

“He’s hot, okay Y/N is that what you want me to say!” Spencer’s voice rose a couple octaves from his admission over his not-so-subtle-crush on The Doctor.

“That’s exactly what I wanted you to say, Spencer. Least I know we have the same type” She said with a wink.

“You got a type, Y/N?” Derek called from the doorway of the conference room.

“Yeah, hot doctors with brown hair” Emily said without missing a beat. She had walked in behind Derek, the pair of them discussing her annual Sin-to-Win Weekend in Atlantic City.

“But they, you know, have to be like Time Lords, or whatever” She said in efforts to cover up her growing discomfort.

She turned her attention back to Reid, who was in the process of trying to remove his leg from her warm lap. He did not want to give Derek anymore ammunition to make sly jokes at his not-so-subtle-crush on his best friend/co-worker. Secretly, he wanted to keep his leg there, against her soft thigh and maybe she’d drop her hands on his leg in a comforting gesture of….friendship.

Garcia placed a tin decorated with white and orange cats dressed in bonnets on the table just within reach of Hotch’s usual spot near the monitor. Reid reached forward to open the tin, which he deduced was filled with Penelope’s infamous snickerdoodle cookies. Unfortunately, before the genius profiler could reach the gaudy tin, Penelope swatted his hand away from grasping the cookies.

“Hey! Those are for Hotch” Penelope shouted as she grabbed the tin and moved them closer to Hotch’s chair.

“What? You know I love cookies, Garcia. Come on, Hotch hates attention”

“I just made some cookies, it’s not like I made him a cake.” Penelope argued as Derek and Emily both quietly eyed the cookies.

“Spence, we’ll make cookies tonight. It looks like it’s just a paperwork day” Y/N said with a slight smile, that, in turn, elicited a big grin from an unsuspecting Spencer.

“Anyway,” Derek started as he chose to ignore the interaction that unfolded before him “we all know he’s going to act like nothing happened” he remarked as he fingered through the dozen case files spread out before him on the table.

“Doesn’t mean we have to,” Penelope said sadly as she looked down at the cat cookie tin.

“Maybe we should,” Reid said quietly to his co-workers.

“But, I’m not built like that!” said Penelope.

“Hotch is though, Penny,” Y/N noted as she snuck a cookie while Penelope’s back was turned. She broke it in half and handed it to Spencer under the table. He winked at her as she shushed him.

“Yeah, Y/N,” Spencer said with a mouthful of cookie, “Hotch never blinks” he finished with a large swig of lukewarm, sugared coffee.

“Classic Alpha Male” Spencer said, looking towards Derek.

“Do you think he stared down Foyet...you know while it happened?” Emily questioned. She was usually the one who could stomach all these, but when it came to the team, she was as nervous as the lot of them.

“It’s probably what saved his life,” Derek said somberly.

“He can’t be okay,” Penelope said with a whisper.

“I wouldn’t be,” Spencer said with an air of uncertainty, “I’m a blinker”

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There was an uncomfortable silence during the ride to Louisville. Hotch was more sullen than usual, but, thankfully, Garcia broke the tension with her reports via computer screen.

“Our point in Louisville is Lieutenant Kevin Mitchell, my contacts don’t report any more attacks related to this unsub” JJ relayed. She sat next to Derek, who was across from Hotch and Rossi. Emily sat criss cross on the table across from the foursome. On the small jet couch, Spencer and Y/N played a game of chess as they listened to the initial reports JJ received from the local PD.

“Call’s proving hard to track. He never had a driver’s license, so he’s probably still on foot,” Spencer mumbled without removing his eyes from the chessboard.

“Or public transportation,” Y/N added as she cringed when Spencer announced “check”.

“Well, he’s not going to get anywhere too far with his face all over the news,” Emily continued.

“So, what do we think the stressor is,” Rossi nodded.

“He just lost his job. Worked in a factory since 1990. He made appliances forever. Not a single promotion” Garcia’s voice came across a little staticky.

“That’s a long time to be bitter,” Derek posed.

“Or he just doesn’t care,” Reid countered.

“According, to what you sent over Garcia, he kind of seems like a hermit. Far as I can tell he’s got no one. No wife, no children, no parents.” Y/N added with a sad tone in her voice.

With a sharp tone, Hotch added “then why didn’t he kill himself?”

“He’s not finished killing yet,” Reid continued the thought, “check mate!”

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It was at times like these that it seemed like the case drags on forever. Call had kidnapped a little boy, who, Spencer had figured out was Call’s biological son. The local PD was getting them nowhere. Those overly macho cops seemed to be having a difficult time taking orders from JJ. Y/N watched as she marched over to Mitchell and demanded that he give a press conference.

Y/N chuckled quietly to herself as she watched the interaction. JJ was a force to be reckoned with, especially when the life of an innocent child was at stake. That cop had no idea who he was challenging.

“Hey, Y/N,” Spencer called from his spot in front of the whiteboard. It was decorated with a combination of their messy, rushed handwriting. Spencer grasped his blue marker and looked at Y/N with a painful expression.

“I’m not getting anywhere with this geographical profile,” Spencer’s somber tone flooded Y/N’s emotions with an overwhelming sense to comfort him.

“Spencer, put the marker down and look at me, please, for a second.” He obliged as he turned to face her.

Y/N reached up on her tiptoes to gently rub her hands along the base of Spencer’s neck. He could feel the tension melt away. Spencer was not one for physical affection, but he realized that he, in fact, craved the soft touches of people he trusted. Whether it was a brotherly pat on the back from Morgan, a playful high five from Garcia, a proud fist bump from Hotch, Spencer had grown to seek out affection.

“Y/N,” he said. His voice but a whisper in the loud, hectic bullpen.

“Shh,” She could sooth his worries just with a graze of her hands across his neck. It was magic to a scientist. Her magical presence set him on fire.

“Hey, we can do this, Spence, all of us, but we need you,” Y/N voice mirrored his own. A hushed whisper that fueled the flames of his love.

Instead of kissing her forehead or even hugging her, all Spencer could make out was a small thank you, before, like the wind, she was gone to see if Garica had any updates on the missing boy.

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In a frantic hour, Garcia had discovered a possible location of Tommy and his father, Darrin. Like most the unsubs, they were children of tragedy. Children of abusive homes and of deep rooted violence. It was up to the team, as they raced down the street in their crowded SUVs, to stop the cycle of violence for claiming another innocent child.

“Hotch, you are on speaker,” Emily called from the passenger seat of the car as Derek sped down the warehouse where they suspected Tommy to be held.

“Do not go in there without SWAT, do you all here me?” Hotch said sternly.

“That means you, Derek, don’t go in there till backup gets there,” JJ added from the phone that Emily held.

“You got it, boss man,” Derek made a sharp turn that led Y/N to nearly fall into Spencer, who sat next to her.

“Spencer! Where is your vest!?” Y/N asked him impatiently, with a tinge of nervousness and fear laced in her tone.

“Y/N, Call doesn’t have a gun, he’s been using weapons of opportunity. The profile points to him not even being armed right now. If anything-”

“Screw the profile, Spencer!” Y/N’s voice was hysterical now. “You need to where a damn vest, you are an FBI agent, if you get-”

Y/N’s rant to Spencer was stopped short by the disturbing sight before her. From the SUV the four of them could see an even more distraught Call standing out in the middle of the warehouse parking lot. He held Tommy by the neck, with a gun pointed at his temple. Derek stopped the car and jumped out, his gun wielded as he began to try to talk the man down.

“Call, drop the weapon and release Tommy, right now!” Derek’s voice loomed large and powerful as Emily, Reid, and Y/N each got out of the vehicle and turned their spots with Morgan.

“You don’t want to hurt Tommy,” Spencer started. “we know who he is to you, we know that he’s your son, and that you weren’t there for him.” He put his gun away in an attempt to show Call that he was not a threat. Y/N could read the desperation in Spencer’s voice from a mile away. Call, like Spencer’s mom lives with schizophrenia. Spencer and Hotch nearly had it out in the middle of the bullpen after Spencer insinuated that Hotch was implying that Call was only going on this murder spree because of his condition.

“Just let the boy go, Call.” Y/N continued the track that Derek and Spencer started. “Just let your son go. We will make sure that you can get medicine, that’s why you went to the pharmacy, right? You need meds to help yourself and then,-”

Out of the corner of her eye, Y/N could see Spencer inching closer and closer to Tommy. As if it was a chain reaction, Call drew his weapon and fired towards Spencer. Before she even could realize the consequences of her actions, Y/N tackled Spencer to the ground. The bullet lodged itself into the Kevlar vest she wore. Her side burned as she came to understand what had transpired in the last couple of seconds.

Spencer scrambled onto his knees and clutched Y/N’s cold hands in his.

“Spence, I’m okay,” Y/N said as she struggled to sit up straight with Spencer practically laying on top of her.

“No, Y/N! Don’t do that,” Spencer started with tears flooding the corners of his eyes. The little droplets made his sometimes brown and sometimes green eyes sparkle with sadness.

Spencer moved his hands from the place where the bullet lodged itself in her Kevlar to grasp her face tenderly. But his movement caused her cheek to be painted with a deep red handprint in the shape of the crying man crouching before her hand.

“Spencer,” she let out a small whimper when she saw the look of horror on his face. Before he could even ask her why she did what she did, Y/N passed out, her limp, cold hand finding its home in the comfort of soft, warm ones.

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The rest of the case passed in a numbing hum for Spencer. Once Y/N got shot by Call he let go of Tommy and Derek shot him the leg. Spencer did not even stay for when Emily and Derek apprehended the unsub. It was like his legs acted of their own accord when the EMT showed up for Y/N and he walked with them never letting go of her hand.

The ride to the hospital in the back of the ambulance was hectic. The EMTs had to monitor her heart rate, her blood pressure, and her oxygen. Even the temptation of numbers could not capture Spencer’s attention as he mulled over the possible conclusions to why Y/N would take a bullet for him. There was no logical reason for it. Not one. Spencer let the steady rocking of the ambulance to soothe him as he gently rubbed his thumb over Y/N’s hand. Even though he longed to hold her against himself, this would have to do, for now at least. Till then, Spencer forced his mind to focus on the pattern that her beating heart created.

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Hospitals terrified Spencer. The smell, the sick people, the people who were unsavable. Part of him wonders what his life would be like if he became a medical doctor. As a kid, he had a future where he could do anything he could dream of. Cure schizophrenia on Monday, operate on an inoperable tumor on Tuesday- that’s what his life could have been like.

But sitting there, in the sterile hospital with the white walls and constant beeping, Spencer’s mind was only thinking of another life he could be out living. In the minutes that he sat with Y/N as she lay in pain in his arm, false memories of a life together painted in his mind. Laughing children, family picnics, couple’s Halloween costumes. He stroked her hair and saw a life so familiar that he could almost taste it. He tasted cookies that they baked together as they danced without a care in the world. He tasted Halloween and Forth of July and all the holidays in between. He tasted butterfly kisses with his children that had her hair and her eyes and her smile.

He was stripped away from those memories that he didn’t even own. Now all he could taste was the bitterness of regret, the sourness of what if, and the tartness of the nightmares masquerading as reality.

“Family of Y/L/N,” a surgeon dressed in light blue scrubs walked into the waiting area with an unreadable expression on her face.

JJ and Derek stood up immediately as the doctor went to continue to deliver the news.

“She’s awake and doing okay,” the doctor said with a relieved expression.

“Oh that goodness,” JJ said as she hugged Emily in a moment of happiness.

“She’s a fighter,” Derek quipped, “I’m going to call Garcia, she’s probably a nervous wreck”

“She’ll make a full recovery, but should avoid air travel because her internal bleeding,” the doctor reported, “also, which one of you is Spencer? Even since she’d been lucid, she’s been asking for you,” she said looking around at the remaining group, with her eyes landing on the man in question.

“She is?” Spencer questioned carefully. He was worried that maybe she regretted jumping in front of him.

“Yes, why don’t you come with me. It may make her more comfortable having someone she wants with her”

Y/N wants him.

Him.

Spencer was not sure how he even walked himself down the corridor to where Y/N’s room was located. But sure enough, he was met with her ashen face beaming up at his.

“Y/N! Oh my goodness, are you okay, I mean, obviously you’re injured so you’re not okay. I don’t mean to invalidate your pain, I just...why, Y/N, why on Earth would you do that?” Spencer finished. His voice was more tender towards the end. He looked down at his friend before him and tried to read the expression that graced her face.

“Spencer, I did what I had to do. You….you would have died,” Spencer noticed the tears that puddled in her eyes and had to suppress the sudden urge to kiss them away.

“I’d rather die than live my life in a world without you, Spencer.”

Spencer closed his eyes and sat down on the bed with her.

“Why?” he asked in a voice that was hardly audible. It can’t be, he thought. Maybe this is just something that a teammate does for another teammate. Comrades in arms or something like that, he thought. Trying to make sense of senselessness.

“Why do you value my life more than yours? Why-how can you do that” there was not stopping tears in his eyes now. She reached out and held his face, like he held her as she bled out in the warehouse only a couple of hours ago.

“Spence, my life would be dull and gray without you in it. You’re my best-” She stared as he tensed up at what he knew was coming. She only jumped in front of him because it’s what a teammate does.

“Please, I can't bear to hear that. I-maybe you only can think of me as a teammate or worse a brother, but part of me. A hopeful and romantic part of me that I can't let go of the thought of you thinking about in a different way,” he was so embarrassed, so raw in the moment that he could not bear to even look her in the eyes.

“Spencer?” he could only watch the way that their fingers laced together. He focused on the patterns between the itchy hospital blanket.

“Y/N,” he started and took a deep breath. Spencer had never intended to tell her this. Maybe in moments of drunken bravery he thought about it, but he’d always sober up before his dreams could come to fruition.

“I’m a logical man, I solve problems for a living but sometimes. Sometimes, I can’t use logic to solve some problems, and there’s no logical reason for you to jump in front of a bullet for me. Unless you love me? And I hope with every fiber of being that you do, because I am so desperately in love with you”

Spencer allowed himself, for the first in his life, to have once of hope and faith.

Y/N’s eyes met Spencer’s in an uncharacteristically shy moment.

“I do, Spence. Of course I love you”

Spencer let out a nervous laugh as he, once again, gently placed his hands on her jaw. He placed a kiss on her forehead. The small, tender affection elicited a whimper from Y/N. Spencer jumped back in horror.

“Oh, honey did I hurt you? You gotta tell me where it hurts” he murmured in a comforting voice.

“Hmm, no I’ve just been waiting five years for you to kiss me and you settle on my forehead?” Y/N beamed up at him expectantly.

“Nowhere do you want me to kiss you, my dear?” Spencer questioned playfully.

“How about in between everywhere and anywhere you want, Doctor Reid,” Y/N, despite the pain, managed a smile for the man that held her hand so lovingly.

“How about here?” Spencer leaned forward and kissed the left corner of her mouth.

“Or here?” The right corner.

“What about here, I’ve dreamed of kissing you here.” He moved his mouth to meet the place on her neck that met her collarbone. Y/N looked up at Spencer dreamily. One day she might chalk it up to the painkillers flooding through her system, but the pure adoration that melted from Spencer’s lips to her skin was something that never knew she’d crave.

“And here”

His lips parted slightly as he moved in to meet hers. The feeling was more divine and earth shattering than when Prometheus gave humans fire. Together, intertwined in bedsheets, IVs, and fingers laced with hair, they lit a fire of their own. Kissing Spencer stopped time.

It was Y/N who broke first.

“Spencer,” she said with a new reverence that would only be reserved for him.

“Yes, sweet girl?”

“You gotta promise me something,” she said as she raked her hands across his arms, feeling him shudder under her touch.

“Anything and everything for you” he said, mirroring her earlier words to him.

“Wear a vest next time”

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fic #spencer reid x reader angst #spencer reid x reader happy endings #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x fem!reader #dr spencer reid imagine #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fluff

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voidsbabe · 3 years

Text

After we graduated (2)

Pairing: Stiles x female reader

Characters: Stiles, Lydia

Word count: 1,6k

Warnings: please keep in mind that english isn’t my first language

Masterlist

———————/

Stiles inhales deeply and licks his lips. He looks at this beautiful baby girl and starts to see some similarities between him and Claudia. Claudia has Stiles’s eyes and some of his behaviours.

“Ok little one, It’s getting late and that means you have to go to sleep” says Stiles and takes Claudia in his arms. He goes to her room and lays her down to her bed.

"Can you find my rabbit? I can't sleep without it.” Says Claudia looking at him with exactly like his puppy eyes. Stiles looks around trying to find a little plushy rabbit. Instead of that he notices a picture. He frowns and gets closer to see that one particular photo. A huge smile appears on Stiles’s face. It’s a picture of the whole pack right after graduation which he believes Coach took. He smiles to that memory.

Next to that he notices one pink rabbit.

“Found it sweetie!” Says Stiles and gives it to almost sleeping Claudia. He kisses her on her forehead and leaves her room.

**********

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Says Stiles right after you enter the living room. You frown, not understanding what he means.

“Claudia. Is she my child?” asks Stiles with some frustration in his voice. “Is she mine? Just tell me Y/N!”

“Cool out.” You whisper “you are going to wake up Claudia”.

Stiles’s chest is rising rapidly as he looks at you. He’s breathing faster and faster in anger and frustration.

“So that’s true. She is my child. SHE IS MY CHILD AND YOU DIDN’T TELL ME?” yell Stiles.

Claudia comes downstairs and looks at you and Stiles sleepy.

“Mommy, why are you both yelling?” She asks.

You give Stiles a death stare and run to Claudia. You kiss her on the forehead.

“It’s nothing, baby. We are so sorry that we have woken you up. Go to your bed and I will be there in a minute sweetie pie” you say. Your little girl does as you told her and goes back to her bed.

“Look what you have done.” You say angry.

Stiles bites his lips and closes his eyes.

“I can’t do this. I can’t be around you right now.” He says and you can’t help but notice some tears in his eyes as he leaves your house.

You cover your face with your hands and take some deep breaths to calm yourself. You feel your throat slowly tighten. You take one more deep breath and finally go to Claudia’s room. You push her doors just to see your little angel peacefully sleeping holding her pink rabbit. You smile a little. She seems so peaceful and innocent and somehow she’s still a little devil in the morning… just like her father.

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After a few weeks you finally find courage to call Lydia and tell her everything “Lydia, has Stiles been calling or texting you?” you ask her hoping that Lydia would say yes. Claudia has been asking about Stiles since the next morning when she asked you why you both have been yelling at night and since you can’t lie to her because she’s smart just like her dad, you finally confess the truth crossing your fingers for the good ending and her being understanding even though she’s just a kid and she shouldn’t have been through that.

“I’m sorry Y/N, but no. He hasn’t been talking to anyone after he found out” says Lydia “I’m really sorry that I can’t be there with you and Claudia. How's the little angel holding up since you told her?”

You put your phone on speaker and unpack your groceries.

“Well, she’s been a little quiet since then but I feel like she understands why I haven’t told her nor her dad about everything. She’s just six but you know how smart she can be. I just hope it wouldn’t cause any trauma because I never really wanted that to happen.” You say and sigh loudly. You hear Lydia saying some things about Stiles but you don’t listen to her because of that sudden memory that appears in your head and holds onto you tightly.

“Lydia, I gotta go” you say and hang up.

“OMG Y/N I CAN’T BELIEVE I GOT TO THE FBI'' says Stiles looking at you. “I mean yes I know it would be far away from New York City but we still can be in touch. That's easy. Me, you, Scott, Allison, Lydia and Isaac we would all stay in touch and it would be amazing. We could hang out and do some things and I could tell you about some cases and…” he says out of his breath. You just giggle a little seeing little sparks in his eyes. He is truly happy. You feel tears in your eyes as you watch Stiles calling to Scott to get the whole pack together. You bite your lips and wipes tears away. Even though you are so happy for your friends, all you can feel is fear. You don’t know what the future will look like and how to be a single mom. Yes, you could tell Stiles but it would definitely end everything. He’s so happy and you want him to stay that way after everything that has happened and after the void you can finally see true happiness in his eyes.

You shake your head just like you are trying to get that memory out of your head.

Stiles still hasn’t called even though you left him a couple voicemails hoping that he would listen to all of them and somehow appear in your door ready to listen to you but that didn’t happen. It was all just in your head. Your head was messing up with you and it was slowly killing you. You sigh and sit on the couch trying to distract yourself by watching a stupid movie about some teenagers trying to not to fall in love. You frown a little as you hear the doorbell ringing. You didn’t invite anyone so it seems even weirder to hear your doorbell ring. You get to the doors and open them. You hear your jaw loudly dropping to the ground.

“Stiles” you say still pretty shocked. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to see my daughter and you. I got a present for Claudia.” he says and gives you a box of Claudia’s favorite cereal and a big teddy. You thank him and invite him inside.

He kisses you on the cheek and sits on the couch. “Claudia, there’s someone to see you” you yell to get your daughter downstairs. Claudia runs as fast as she can downstairs and freezes in shock. “Daddy!” She screams and runs to hug Stiles. He smiles and takes her to his arms. He gives her a little kiss on the forehead and takes her on his lap.

“I got you something” he says and gives Claudia those presents. “Thank you Daddy” says Claudia and hugs him tightly and then runs to her room to introduce her new teddy to other toys.

“So I am ready to talk. Tell me everything” says Stiles and looks at you. You nod and bite your lips. You take a deep breath fighting some tears that appeared in your eyes. “When I got pregnant I didn’t know what I should do. I felt hopeless and I was so scared because I already knew that I won’t tell you and I know it sounds extremely selfish and you have every right to be mad at me that I haven’t told you, but you did not see yourself. Stiles I love you and after everything that we have been through. Every damn supernatural creature and after the void you seemed so happy that you got to that FBI program and I knew I couldn’t tell you because you would stay and miss that opportunity. I’m so sorry that I made that decision. I know it was irresponsible and selfish and I know that I fucked everything up by telling everyone except you. I’m really sorry” you say with a shaking voice. After that it is silent. You feel your heart beating rapidly as you start bawling your eyes. Stiles gets up and takes you in his arms. He wipes away tears from your face and hugs you. “I’m not mad Y/N. I know that you have made that decision because you had some reasons. I was mad and shocked and frustrated when I found out because I always wanted a kid and you know how much I loved you. How much I still love you. Y/N you are my everything and you will always be. You and Claudia. I love both of you and I’m ready to take every responsibility for my actions and I’m ready to be a dad. I want to be a dad. A good one. And of course I wanna be with you. I never stopped loving you.” he whispers in your ear and leans to kiss you softly. You smile through that kiss and place your hands on his cheeks just to kiss him more passionately.

After you graduated you didn’t know what your life would look like in the next 10 years. You were extremely scared and hopeless. But after all, you got your happy ending with the most precious angel that you could have and the most amazing husband that you have ever dreamed of. You were happy that Stiles found out about Claudia because your life as the whole family just started. In that moment when you said “I do”. It changed everything. Claudia changed everything.

And that’s what happened after we graduated...

———————————/

Hey guys! Thank you for waiting and reading. Reblogs and replies are very appreciated ❤️

Tag list: @cookiecakeslive @alexa-rae-dreamz @loulouloueh @dandelionqueen @marvelsis @drugsandcandy069

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dreamwritesimagines · 4 years

Text

Twisted [Spencer Reid x Reader]

A.N.: So, here we go! 😁 Thank you so much for your wonderful support and lovely messages during my break my loves, they mean so much to me and ily! ❤ On my break, I binged a lot of shows, and Criminal Minds and Prodigal Son were two of them, but if you haven’t watched them don’t worry because it will not be following a specific canon plot😁❤Please let me know what you think and enjoy!❤

Warnings: Murder, drug use, serial killers, violence, manipulation

Summary: No one can choose their family.

If it were another time, you could’ve at least attempted to convince yourself how everyone had problematic childhoods. Focusing on something else usually worked, per the advices of countless psychiatrists your mother had forced you to go after the-

Incident.

Just the thought of it was more than enough to make your blood freeze in your veins, but you were soon snapped out of your thoughts when your phone started ringing. You checked the caller I.D, and heaved a sigh before you touched the screen.

“Hello?”

“Please tell me you’re not going there.” Your mother’s voice filled the car and you pressed your lips together.

“Hi mom.”

“Every time you go there and visit that man in that wretched prison cell of his, he manages to get into your head!”

“That’s not what’s going to happen,” you said, keeping your eyes on the road, “You have no reason to worry.”

“I have every reason to worry!” she snapped, “We promised that we wouldn’t let him worm his way into our lives.”

“Yeah well, FBI begs to differ,” you forced yourself to say, “You’ve seen the news—“

“I don’t want to hear this,” she cut you off, then heaved a sigh, “It’s terrible enough to hear it once, let alone twice.”

You never really had the luxury of ignoring all the terrible things on the news, especially after what had happened. Ever since you were a child, the nightmares wouldn’t leave you alone, and you weren’t as good as your mother at ignoring what was happening while you were awake.

“You could’ve said no.”

“I really couldn’t,” you mumbled and she clicked her tongue.

“Well then,” she said, trying to pull herself together, “I expect to see you at brunch, even your sister is coming. It won’t take long, will it?”

“It won’t take long to see my serial killer father and find out whether he is helping another serial killer even if he’s been behind bars for years?” you asked, “No mom. It shouldn’t take long.”

“Sarcasm will give you wrinkles.”

“Oh yeah, tragedy.”

“Call me as soon as you leave there,” she insisted, making you smile. “Promise me.”

“I promise,” you said as you pulled over in front of the building. Even the sight of it was enough to make your stomach flip and you felt the bile climbing up your throat.

You did not want to see him.

You had managed not to see him for years now, but now, the news were full of different coverage about a killer whose method of killing was very similar to him.

A flower left in the crime scene, every damn time.

Naturally, FBI wanted a word with the original killer. Less naturally, the original killer refused to speak unless he talked to his younger daughter, who happened to be you.

Unfortunately.

Yet, the sooner you walked in, the sooner you would walk out, and that was the only thing that offered any kind of consolation.

“God damn it,” you mumbled to yourself as you left your car, and made your way into the building. They patted you down, made you go through the x-ray and sign the papers before you entered the hall.

There were two men that weren’t in official prison guard clothes, which made you think these were the FBI agents you had talked to on the phone. For some reason, you hadn’t pictured them like this, but you didn’t know any agents so maybe this was the norm.

If it were any other time, you could’ve noticed how handsome they both were, but your mind was way too occupied.

“Ma’am,” the dark haired one stepped closer to you, “I’m Special Agent Luke Alvez, this is Dr. Spencer Reid.”

Even if Agent Alvez looked like the ideal FBI agent that was pulled out of an action movie, Dr. Reid looked more like a young, handsome professor, the ones that you dreamed would be at your university when you were still at high school.

Needless to say, that fantasy hadn’t come true much to your disappointment.

You shook your head, trying to focus.

“Y/N, it’s nice to meet you.” You shook hands with him, and smiled at Dr Reid, “Hello.”

“Thank you for coming.” His smile was soft, much like his gaze, “I imagine it’s not easy for you.”

You forced yourself to shrug, “Yeah it’s…” you trailed off and cleared your throat, “It’s fine.”

“So far we have seen five murders all over the country, in different areas but the crime scene has your father’s signature. It most likely means there are multiple copycat killers, and given your father’s past, he might be the mastermind behind it. He contacted us, but refuses to say anything unless he spoke to you.”

The goosebumps rising on your arms felt almost familiar.

“I haven’t been educated in any interrogation techniques.” You said, “And knowing him, he’s not just going to give that information to me.”

“People give information about a lot of things even when they don’t realize it.” Dr Reid said, “We will be outside, watching and listening.”

“I’ll talk to the guards to see if he’s ready, excuse me.” Alvez said and he walked away while you nibbled on your lip.

“How does a serial killer have this many privileges?” Reid asked you, “He has a private cell, books, TV…”

“Money,” you said slowly, “Money buys lawyers, lawyers buy freedom. Or the closest thing to freedom, given the circumstances. If you ask me, he should’ve been rotting in a hole but...” you trailed off, leaning back to the wall and took a deep breath, counting in your head.

“That’s a good exercise to calm down,” Reid said and your head shot up.

“What?”

“The 4 7 8 breathing exercise. I’m guessing a psychiatrist taught you that.”

“Several psychiatrists taught me that,” you stated, raising your brows, “You’re observant aren’t you professor?”

“Doctor.”

You clenched an unclenched your fists, your eyes darting around the hall,

“This is not helping,” you said as you exhaled a breath, “I need a cigarette, or twenty.”

“What do you do?” his question was so out of nowhere that you gawked at him for a moment.

“What?”

“What do you do?”

“I’m a— I’m a wedding planner.”

He tilted his head, “What’s that?”

“Well you…you know, you help the couples with color palettes, decoration, overall aesthetic, and during the wedding you make sure nothing goes wrong with the venue and the food and the music, all that. You make sure the wedding is perfect, basically.”

He hmmed, “How do I tell if a wedding is perfect? If we were talking sense wise?”

“Well first of all, in terms of looks, the colors need to complement each other,” you said, remembering your favorite events, “When you walk in, you see the garden and it’s well lit, but not too bright. In terms of touch, I guess you would make sure the table covers and such are soft to touch. The music should be slow at first, at least until it starts.”

“How about smell?”

“You can’t really go wrong with faint flower scents. Scented candles are a nice touch too.”

“The food?”

“Something light, most of the time. No one wants to get into a food coma at a wedding and you—“ you stopped as your eyes snapped up to his, a small smile playing at his lips.

He was making you list all the things that would ground you without making you realize you were doing it, so that you wouldn’t lose yourself in panic. It was yet another trick your psychiatrists had told you to do whenever you felt overwhelmed, talking about what you could see, hear, smell, touch and taste. By making you focus on a pleasant memory and remember all those, he was offering you a safe place in your own mind.

But contrary to any doctor, he didn’t make it obvious.

“Well played, professor.”

This time, he didn’t correct you,

“Grounding works most of the time,” he stated as Agent Alvez approached you, “I know this situation is less than ideal, but we will be right outside. You can walk out any time you want.”

“They’re ready.” Agent Alvez said and you nodded, trying to ignore the way your heart was slamming against your chest, then followed them to the door. Alvez opened the door for you, and you stepped inside, digging your fingernails into your palm.

His hair had more grays since you had last seen him, and his beard was longer, but that dangerous light in his eyes hadn’t changed. He looked up, a wide smile appearing on his face as his eyes searched yours.

“Sweetheart!” he said cheerfully, raising his hands a little so that you could see the chains attached to his handcuffs, “It’s been a while, wouldn’t you say?”

Pretending to be calm was something you had practiced so many times that your body knew automatically what to do. The door closed behind you and you swallowed thickly, making sure your face didn’t show any feelings. You slowly approached the table to pull yourself a chair, then put your phone on the table and started the countdown.

He wanted five minutes, and you would be damned if you stayed there a second longer.

“You look so much like your mother,” your father shook his head, “It’s uncanny, really.”

You gritted your teeth, still glaring at him.

“Not your eyes though,” he smiled, “You got your eyes from me. The window to the soul, hm?”

“My soul has nothing to do with you.” The words left your lips before you could stop them and he tut tutted.

“My petal-“

“Don’t call me that,” you cut him off, “I hate that nickname.”

That didn’t seem to break his enthusiasm though, much to your displeasure.

“Well, we should catch up,” he said , clapping his hands together, “Are you still with that young man from last year? He’d better be treating you well.”

You blinked a couple of times, “How did you-?”

“I have my sources too.”

“Your sources are slow then.” You stated, “We broke up months ago. Is that all? You brought me here to just talk about my personal life?”

“Why did you break up?”

“Are you really behind all these murders happening right now?” you asked back and he shot you a reprimanding look.

“None of that right now, petal. Business and family shouldn’t be merged, as you know.”

You felt like you would throw up, but managed to hold it together and stole a look at the countdown.

“Why did you break up?”

“Certain differences,” you said, cracking your fingers to distract yourself, and he leaned back.

“I get that,” he said, “If you’re different, you’re different. I always felt that with your mother—“

“Stop that.” You spat out, “Anything I do, including my relationships, it has nothing to do with you. I’m nothing like you.”

“Oh but you are,” he said, “It’s all in your eyes. In that deadly glare of yours. It’s there, isn’t it? That anger? Try to hide it as much as you want, it’s still burning you.”

“There’s nothing burning me,” you said, “You’re fucked up, doesn’t mean I am too.”

“You know, there are many scientists that say murder is in the genes,” he stated, “So it would mean you’re contaminated too, no?”

The panic was pounding through your system, but you managed to keep your expression stable.

“Do you know why I didn’t ask your sister here? Or hell, your mother? Do you know why it is you?”

You stayed silent, your gaze focused on him.

“Your sister loved your mother, but you…. You were always such a daddy’s girl.”

“Wrong.”

“I don’t even think you cried for your mother whenever you scraped your knees, it was always me.”

“I didn’t know you were crazy when I was a child, guilty as charged. Doesn’t prove anything.”

“It does,” he said, “It proves more than you know. You are going to be my legacy.”

A cold shiver ran down your spine but you took a deep breath, resting your palms on the steel desk.

“No I won’t,” you said calmly, “Sorry to disappoint. I never killed anyone.”

Your father’s smile was almost as serene as your voice.

“Yet,” he pointed out, and you felt your throat tightening. “Ignore it if you want. It’s still there, petal.”

The beep of the phone made you snap out of it and you pushed your chair back, knocking it over in the process.

“Fuck you,” you said through your teeth as you gripped the door knob, “Have fun rotting in here.”

You swung the door open and stepped outside, still trying to catch your breath, and the door next to the interrogation room opened before Reid stepped into your vision. Your hands were still shaking and you desperately needed a cigarette and some fresh air.

But what you really needed was to get out of there.

“Y/N?”

“I hope you got whatever you guys needed,” you managed to say, wiping at your nose, “Because I’m never stepping a foot here, ever again.”

With that, you walked out of the hall, every cell in your body screaming at you to get away. You ignored the looks from the guards, tears blurring your vision and you left the building as fast as you could, as if someone was chasing you.

As if that could help you escape him.

Chapter 2

Taglist: @rhabakoli @theskytraveler @danyka-fendyr @alwaysadreamingoptimist @lettersofwrittencollective @dreamers-wonderland @lilliannaansalla @propertyofpoeandbucky @iblogabout-stuff @thinemineours @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto @davnwillcome @chibi-liz05 @demigoddesofchimichangagod @finnickfoxes

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid imagines #spencer reid x you #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds imagines #mgg #dr spencer reid #matthew gray gubler #reid x reader #reid imagine #reid imagines #twisted

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boldlyvoid · 3 years

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Amoreena | Chapter Eighteen

Amoreena Chapter Eighteen

main summary: Heaven is a real place and it's located exactly 14.6 miles away from the FBI, Quantico Headquarters. Off behind a small park, under a fantastical willow tree surrounded by wildflowers, in every colour young minds can imagine.

Don't forget, heaven also comes with angels.

Chapter Warnings: hospital visits, fainting, IV's and ultrasounds!

word count: 5k

from the beginning <3

Y/N heads off to work at 8 on Wednesday, sick and miserable but it's her job. Leaving Spencer with the girls. “So, what are our plans for today?”

“We need to pick up some paint samples so we can pick for my room,” Jo replies, shovelling waffles into her mouth right after with syrup dripping down her chin.

Spencer passes her a napkin with a smile, “do you guys want to go visit my friend Penelope? She’s really good with aesthetics, as she calls them, she’ll be able to help the best.”

“She’s the one you told me about?”

Spencer nods, “yeah, I’m just going to call and see if she’s free today. Put your dishes in the dishwasher after, your mom doesn’t need to come home from work to do the sticky dishes okay?”

“Yes sir,” they both groan, jokingly, smiling at each other as they do so.

He runs up to his bedroom then, sitting on his side of the bed and taking his phone out of his pocket. He dials Luke’s number instead, knowing she’d kill him if she’s still asleep while he’s calling her.

“Hey man!” Luke answers, cheerful and very awake. “How’s the new kid?”

“Jo’s great, she’s settling in really well,” He smiles, news travelled fast in the BAU, “I actually want to introduce her to Penelope, is she awake and willing to take visitors this early?”

“Um,” he can hear Luke’s panic through the phone, “you know, here she’s beside me, she can tell you.”

“Hello, Spencer,” Penelope’s voice carries down the line and invoking a smile on Spencer’s face. “What’s up?”

“I wanted to introduce you to Josephine today, are you busy?”

“We have a doctor's appointment to go to in 10 minutes, but we’ll be home around 10:30?”

His brain stalls, malfunctioning a small amount at why Luke would be going to the doctors with Penelope. “You can’t be pregnant too, me you and Derek can’t all have kids the same age.”

“Savannah’s pregnant too?!” Penelope screams down the line, “holy shit.”

“Penelope!” Spencer shouts, “are you kidding me?”

“No, we were going to tell you soon, when you made that wine comment a few weeks ago I knew she was pregnant because I am too,” Penelope’s voice is so soft he knows she’s smiling on the other side.

She always wanted kids, that’s why she spoiled Henry and Hank so much, they were like her honorary babies until she was in the right place to have kids of her own. She has told Spencer time and time again how much she wants a family, how badly she wanted one but couldn’t find the perfect partner… then she met Luke.

“Put Luke back on,” Spencer sounds sterner than he means to, Penelope puts him on speaker instead.

“Are we going to have the father-to-son chat?” Luke teases him through the phone.

“I just wanted to thank you, this is going to be a really cool experience,” Spencer feels incredibly emotional at the thought of all 3 of their kid's meeting and being best friends.

“You just bumped Spencer to the top of my suggestions list,” Luke jokes in response, not able to handle the sappiness this early in the morning. “Thanks, man, So Derek’s going to be a dad again too?”

“I wasn’t supposed to tell you,” Spencer feels a bit like an idiot, “I don’t know how far along they are so just keep it a secret for now.”

“She’ll probably tell me when I tell her,” Penelope rationalized it, “it’s fine, Spence, all of us are having babies it’s a good secret to spill.”

“When are you due?”

“January 29th,” Penelope smiles, “you?”

“Y/N doesn’t know for sure, but she’s thinking it’s February 20th, if she got her math right,” Spencer confirms with a smile, “we have a doctor's appointment to see the little one in 2 weeks.”

“We find out if it’s a boy or girl today,” Luke added, and he can hear Penelope smack him.

“We’re not finding out! I want it to be a surprise!”

“I’m going to find out, I’m going to stare that sonogram down till I see a pee-pee or not,” Luke bickered back. Making her furious on purpose, like always.

“Good luck with that, it’s a blob and you’re a dork,” she fought right back, probably even more feisty now that she was pregnant.

That made Spencer just shake his head, he couldn’t even picture it. It was insane when Haley got pregnant and Hotch became a dad, he was so shocked when JJ got pregnant and her small body was able to do it. He’ll never forget seeing Derek become a father, it was way too eventful not to. But this, he never thought he’d see it.

She probably felt the same with him.

“We’ve got to go in now Spence, but we can pick up some brunch and meet you at ours around 11?” Penelope cut into his awkward silence, “you can see the ultrasound and be the first to know.”

“Sounds good, I’m really happy for you, Penny,” Spencer added with a smile. “Bye.”

“Bye!”

After he hangs up he shoots a text over to Y/N, “taking the girls to Penelope’s house, is there an extra booster seat for Amoreena anywhere?” And slides his phone back into his pocket.

Down the stairs, Jo and Amoreena are doing the dishes instead of just placing them in the dishwasher. Amoreena is on a stool, washing the plates as Jo dries and is able to reach the cabinets better to put them away. They don’t even know he’s there watching as they pass plates back and forth.

Then Amoreena jumps off the stool as the water drains, finally turning around to see her dad, “all clean! Mom shouldn’t have to do anything while she’s making a baby.”

Spencer couldn’t stop smiling, his girls were so perfectly kind and caring. It was like he won the genetic lottery being blessed with them.

“She’d really appreciate us keeping the house clean for the next few months,” Spencer agreed. “Are you guys excited or nervous about the baby?”

They both shrugged and moved in closer to the counter, resting against it as they thought it over. He pressed his lips together awkwardly as he waited, “I’m really nervous.” He announced, watching their faces turn to worry.

“Why?” Jo asked, “You’re really good at being a dad.”

“I haven’t done it from the beginning yet,” he’s open and honest with them, letting them know he doesn’t always have every answer but he’s brave enough to try.

“If anything,” Amoreena’s smart little mind gets to work, “because you’ve been so amazing without really knowing us, I can imagine Elly will love you the most because she’ll know you the longest.”

“Elly?” Spencer smiles, remembering how serious they all are about the next kid is a girl too.

Amoreena nodded, “she has the choice of 3 nicknames, Elly, Leo or Nora…” She’s clearly thought it all through.

“You know, I was thinking we should get something for Y/N and the baby, do you guys want to go to the store before we go see aunty Penny?”

They both nod enthusiastically, “can we go get changed first?” Amoreena asks, “I want to wear something nice.”

It makes him laugh, “of course, hey, before you go do you know where any more booster seats are for you?”

She bites her lip to think, “hmm, I think there’s one in poppy’s truck?”

“Okay, you go get ready, I’ll go talk to poppy,” Spencer replies, and before he can even turn around both of them are running up the creaky, loud, wooden steps and into their rooms.

He’s already in jeans and a plaid shirt from feeding the chickens that morning, adding just his running shoes and Grandpa’s hat, it was basically his now. He loved it, it felt right, it made Y/N and Amoreena smile when he wore it, and it completed the look of stay-at-home Farm Dad.

He walked right into Y/N’s parent's house, pulling back the screen door before walking, “knock, knock,” he says, smiling as he sees Linda rounding the corner from the kitchen.

“Spencer!” She cheers, wiping her hands off on her apron before pulling him into a hug. “How are your girls?”

“Good,” he smiles again, holding her close quickly before letting her go again. “I’m taking them to a friend's house, does Amoreena have a booster seat here?” He asks for the 3rd time that morning, not wanting to drive her anywhere unless she’s perfectly secured.

“Bob’s got one in the truck, leave your keys here in case he has to go anywhere and just take the truck, it’s easier than taking the seat out and putting it back in,” Linda problem-solved like it was her job.

“Okay,” he places his keys in her hand.

“Bob’s are on the wall by the door, have fun today!” Linda waved him off, “oh, and tell Y/N congratulations.”

“Oh, thanks,” he smiled, “the wedding was really fun.”

He’s just taking the keys off the wall and opening the door again when he hears her small laughter, “I meant on the baby.”

He turns quickly, “how did you know?”

Linda shakes her head, “there are 3 cases of ginger ale in the fridge and 8 empty boxes of saltine crackers in the recycling.”

He turns pink, embarrassed for some reason as if Linda didn’t know he was sleeping with her daughter. He nods with a press-lipped smile. “She didn’t want to tell anyone till the ultrasound.”

“I understand,” Linda smiled. “I’m ready to talk to her when she is, let her know that.”

“I will,” he smiled one last time, “see you later!”

And they were off.

—

He’s in a big red farm truck, wearing a farm hat and plaid while listening to Taylor Swift with his daughters.

He can’t help but shake his head at the insanity, agreeing with Taylor’s current lyric that’s being burned into his head, “fever dream high in the quiet of the night you know that I caught it!”

Amoreena and Jo are in the back, singing together as they share what songs are their favourites. It’s surreal, every single moment is, if it wasn’t for how badly it made his heartache to see them so happy he’d think it was all a dream.

The girls are very adamant about going to TJMaxx for a present for Y/N, saying it’s the best place to find nice things for a good price. Spencer would spend a million dollars on her if he could, but this was a group decision, and there were 2 of them now, so he never won anymore.

They get a decent parking space, getting out together they look insane. Spencer is a walking talking Woody from Toy Story at this point, Jo’s in all black and combat boots and Amoreena is a princess… it was an interesting group, to say the least.

They get a cart, pushing it up and down the aisles as they find a million and 1 cute things for Y/N. Everything from paintings to towels, maternity clothes and baby toys, makeup brushes and scarves… they were having the hardest time finding the best thing to get for them.

Spencer turned down the final aisle in the back corner, seeing a bunch of headboards and chairs, and a small little bassinet. It’s whicker and woven beautifully, light wood and a fluffy white inside. It’s soft, well made, and incredibly cute.

“Mom gave my crib to Aunt Ashely, she might like this!” Amoreena cheered, leaning over it to show that she was the perfect height to see inside of it too.

“I’m going to get it,” Spencer announces, “it’ll look nice in our room, and it’s good for the first few months while she’s really dependent on your mom.”

They were all on team girl now, Spencer and his little women just made the most sense. He couldn’t see anyone other than all his girls in his mind when he thought of the future, and he’s had enough time with boys anyway. Hank and Henry would always hold a special place in his heart.

The girls each wanted t pick something out for the baby, heading right for the girl section of the baby aisle. “Now, you have to remember that they’ll be very tiny in the winter, and around 6 months in the summer.”

Everything was actually decently priced like the girls said it would be, so Spencer went a bit overboard. It was his first baby too, he was allowed to spoil it. He stocked up on bib rags, swaddle blankets, pacifiers and cute little hats. Jo and Amoreena on the other handpicked out the cutest little winter coat. It would be perfect for the Virginia winter, a big brown bear coat that zipped up like a sleeping bag. She’s going to be so cozy.

Bringing everything to the cashier was fun, she could see they were all related and smiled, “another brother or sister on the way?”

Jo and Amoreena smiled, “in February,” Jo was the one to answer with a wide smile.

“Congrats!” She smiles as she rings everything through, bagging it all while Spencer pays and the girls take it all to the truck.

“Wait, so will I ever meet my other brother and sister?” Amoreena asks as they’re filling the bed of the truck with what they bought, completely out of the blue.

“Not for a while, Jo kinda broke the rules to find me and figured out who they are, but they can’t know till they’re 18,” Spencer explained.

She turns to Jo with a look of worry, “was my name on there?”

Jo nods enthusiastically, “oh yeah! You’re baby number 3! It goes me, Alice, you and then Dylan is the youngest.”

Amoreena starts to cry, it's soft at first as she goes silent and then she’s heaving as she thinks about it more. She throws herself into Spencer’s arms and he’s so confused. Shushing her as he rubs her back gently, “what’s wrong, sweetheart?”

“I knew it,” is all she can say. Holding him closer than before. “You were too great to just be my dad.”

Jo places her hand on Spencer’s shoulder, “she’s right.”

“You guys are the amazing ones,” he says softly. “Come on, let’s get in the truck and go see Aunt Penny, she has a surprise.”

Amoreena sighed as she pulled back, “I don’t think I can handle anything more.”

It makes him laugh, “it’s a simple one, I promise.”

—

Jo loves Penelope. They instantly click, discussing exactly how she hacked the Sperm bank in all the technical terms which ended up sounding like gibberish to Spencer. She was incredibly smart and very interested in the computer programming field. Penelope offered to take her under her wing.

Amoreena, however, fell head over heels in love with Luke. He was nice to her at the barbecue because he’s Luke and he doesn’t know how to be anything but nice, and she thought he looked like Prince Naveen from the princess and the frog… which just so happened to be her favourite and suddenly Spencer understood why she was in a green princess dress today.

It was adorable, she looked up at him like he was an actual prince with big brown doe eyes as she listened to him talk about all the knightly battles he’s been on recently. She was enamoured, having her first little kid crush on her Aunt’s boyfriend.

Spencer was holding Penelope’s sonogram in his hands, alone on the couch as his kids were deep in conversation with his friends. It was really cool, that’s all he could think. Himself, Derek and Penelope were going to have 3 kids all around the same age.

3 little people who got to grow up with a bond and friendship just as strong as theirs. Each of them having 2 best friends, 2 protectors, it was going to be amazing. He can see it now, a confident little Garcia, a feisty little Morgan and a shy yet chatty little Reid baby all together on the playground. What a nightmare for their poor teacher.

Y/N still hasn’t texted him back from this morning, yet she’s calling him now at 1 pm as they’re getting ready to leave, “hello, princess.”

“Can you leave the girls with Penelope and meet me in the ER?”

“Of what hospital? Are you okay?” He asks, and all eyes are on his horrified face.

Luke stands then, “I’ll take you, let’s go.”

“Bethesda, it’s not bad I just came in to check something and I want you here,” her voice is soft and she knows he’s going to panic. “I need you to breathe and stay calm or the kids will freak out.”

He takes a deep breath, “sorry I forgot we had an appointment today.” He lies pretty well.

“I’ll see you soon okay, text me while Luke drives me?” He’s quiet as he and Luke slip out the door.

“I’ll just stay on the line, I don’t mind, cutie,” he could see her smile in his mind as he listened to her. Able to actually calm down and think straight as he climbed into the passenger seat and handed Luke the keys.

“What happened?”

“I didn’t feel good, I was extra dizzy and sick a few times at work, so Allison made me come in. Savannah has me hooked up to an IV now, I’ve been so sick I’m dehydrated, and they wanted to do an ultrasound but I can’t see her without you here.”

His heartbeat settles a bit, the same thing happened to JJ. It was fairly normal, the first-trimester sickness was so horrific she wasn’t really eating, she had maybe 1 full meal a day even though he tried to get her to eat more. And she was drinking a lot of water, but she was also throwing up hourly. It wasn’t healthy.

“Okay,” he’s able to smile softly. “Thank you for wanting to wait for me.”

She hears his smile too, knowing he’s calm and okay. “She’s your first baby, baby, I want you to have all the firsts with her. Or him. I’m so settled on it being another girl I feel so bad sometimes…”

He can hear the paper of her hospital gown rustling as she rubs her small stomach. “I love you forever even if you are a boy, or you come out a quote-unquote boy and want to be a girl or the other way or neither or even both!” She’s clearly not talking to him anymore as she assures the baby she’s not going to be upset about its gender.

Luke drives like a maniac, Spencer knows from experience but he’s extra insane today. He has dad panic now too, he knows what Spencer’s thinking and so he guns it and he’s in the ER parking lot within 10 minutes. “Okay, I’m here where are you?”

“Savannah’s going to collect you at the door and bring you to me,” her voice is soft and calm still, “I’ll see you in a few minutes, love you.”

“Love you too,” he replies before hanging up. “Thank you, Luke.”

Luke places his hand on Spencer’s shoulder, “you know by now I’d kill for you, right?”

Spencer’s heart has been at a capacity for love for a while now and yet it keeps getting piled on, “thank you. If you want to go back to Penny’s that’s okay. I’ll drive Y/N’s car back to your place.”

“Sure,” Luke smiles again. “Go see that baby, I want to see pictures after!”

With that, Spencer’s getting out of the truck and running into the hospital, holding his hat so it doesn’t fly off. Savannah laughs when she sees him, he’s so anxious and sweet and she’s always admired him for making Derek feel loved before her.

She places a hand on his back as she leads him down the hall, “she’s fine I promise, I wouldn’t be this chill if she wasn’t.”

“Thank you,” Spencer stops, “I really love her Savannah. Like if anything happens to her or my kids I will kill myself kind of love her and it’s terrifying.” His words are a whisper as he shakes, tears welling in his eyes. “I’m trying to be cool and collected for her but I need a minute.”

Savannah looks down the corridor past him, smiling softly as Derek walks out of Y/N’s room. “Derek was here for lunch when she called me.”

He wraps Spencer up in the hug he needs and Spencer just holds him. “You’re the best,” he says softly as he rests his lips against Derek's shoulder like he always does. And Derek messes up his hair, without fail.

Derek places his hands on his cheeks, “she’s really cool, but tomorrow is called off until they’re both past the first trimester and everything is chill, okay?”

“I forgot all about that,” Spencer’s eyes widen.

Derek laughs, “go see your girl, she invited us over for dinner after.”

“Penelope and Luke have to come too, they have big news to share today too,” Spencer spills the beans, “she’s going to be so mad at me for telling you but I have been wanting to scream about it for a few hours now.”

Derek’s face lights up, “I’ll be back!”

Savannah laughs as he runs down the hall, surely going to congratulate his best friend and tell her all about how cool it’ll be to all have kids together. With all the enthusiasm that Spencer kept inside, Derek was about to scream on his behalf.

Y/N’s a vision in the blue paper gown, laying on the table with her hand over her belly as Spencer walks in, “Hey, cutie.”

He peppers kisses to her whole face while she laughs, reaching up with her free hand, the other is all taped up with wires for her fluids. She looks much better already, her skin is glowing and the life is back in her eyes, she’s smiling again and he notices the 2 empty jello cups beside an unopened one.

“Derek made me save you one,” She adds as he notices it, “in case you passed out or something.”

Within minutes, he’s done his jello and there’s a new woman he’s never seen before coming in for Y/N’s ultrasound. She introduces herself as Aria and Y/N can’t help but mention she kind of looks like Arizona on Grey’s Anatomy.

She’s not far along enough for the regular ultrasound wand to pick anything up, wiping her belly clean of the jelly before prepping the other one and Y/N grips Spencer’s hand tighter. She looks like she hates it, and Spencer probably would too if some strange lady shoved a metal stick up his parts.

She’s clicking around on her own, Spencer knows she’s just a tech and she can’t really tell them anything until she does the first sweep for all the answers. She turns the screen after a few minutes, “here’s your little baby, we have a healthy heartbeat and a placenta up here in the top left.”

Seeing his baby is the most magical moment of his life. She was so tiny, the size of a sweet pea inside the love of his life. She looked like a little alien, tiny in her little sac as she floated around in there. Happy, and healthy and growing day by day.”

“Just the one?” Y/N confirms.

Aria laughs, “yes, nothing else is going on in here, but they are measuring more at 7 weeks, almost 8, instead of 6 weeks and 5 days, even with your period math, they might just be a big baby.”

“Our first kid was a chunky baby,” Y/N smiles, looking at the screen and oblivious to how Spencer smiles at the words our first kid…

“So this little one is good, in the fetal position and the tail is at the right length for development, they should look like a person the next time you see them. Everything looks like it’s on track and your HCG is doubling perfectly,” Aria was very cheerful. “You’re just sick because they’re super healthy.”

“I’m fine with that,” Y/N smiles again, “can I have a bunch of copies? Everyone is going to want one.”

“Sure,” Aria hits a few buttons, printing 11 photos off and handing them over to her in a long strand. “Have you looked into any OB’s for this one?”

“Not yet, I was going to bring it up tonight,” Y/N’s the only one talking, Spencer has no idea if he’s allowed an opinion on her body and he’s never going to give one unless she asks.

“Well, I’ll leave you to it! Here are some facilities we like if you need recommendations,” she smiles as she hands them a booklet. “Congratulations!”

“Thank you,” Y/N swoons, sitting up to look at her little baby photos and read the booklet.

Once the woman is gone, she smiles at Spencer, “I want to do a water birth, how are you feeling about that?”

“Like I’ll be there no matter what you pick?” He answers, “I just want you to be safe and in good hands, preferably in a birthing centre where they’re all trained to care for you. I’ve been a little stressed at the idea of us living so far away from the hospital, so it’s better to not do a home birth in case something goes wrong last minute.”

It’s a Reid rant of epic proportions, “okay, water birth in a birthing centre it is. Plus, it’ll be winter so I wouldn’t want to drive in that while giving birth.”

“How long do you have to stay here?”

“Once my IV fluid bag is empty, I can go.” She smiles wide, holding his hand gently as she looks at him. “They’re going to send a nurse to the library on Tuesdays and Thursdays to ensure I get more fluids in me, and I’m also going to take some nausea meds now.”

“Thank you for calling me,” Spencer whispers, “I’m so happy you feel safe with Derek, and that he could have been here for you, but can you call me first next time?”

She nods, “I was scared, I needed to know if she was okay before I told you because I love you a lot and seeing you upset made me more scared.”

“I don’t want you to feel like that,” Spencer shook his head softly, leaning in and pressing their foreheads together. “I may be a worry wort and an anxious crier, but I will hold your hand and I will be here, you mean more to me than anything else.”

She cupped his face with her free hand, “the girls better be on the same level as me.” She brings a smile to his face, “if anything happens to me you have to be strong for them, I know nothing bad will. But I need you to know I do have faith in you to keep going after me, for them. They need a parent, be it me or you, at 100% all the time.”

“I promise,” he smiles so she knows he’s true.

—

Penelope Spencer and Derek laid all 3 of their ultrasounds on Y/N’s kitchen table, a sticky note on each one. Baby Garvez, Baby Morgan and Baby Reid…

The Big Three 2.0 coming this winter.

Penelope took a photo of it, opening the BAU text thread that has all members past and present included. Sending the photo to everyone while they patiently waited for a response.

Jordan Todd: way to go!!! Can’t wait to see all that cuteness!

Anderson: !!! Bring them by the office sometime, please!

Hotch: Jack said he’s excited to meet his new cousins. Congrats guys.

Elle: is Penelope having 2 babies or did Spencer get a wife I don’t know about?

Emily: Congrats!! (And yes Spencer has a wife and 3 kids now apparently…)

Elle: pics or it didn’t happen

Spencer:

Elle: no fuckin way... congrats Reid!

Alex Blake: so proud of you Spencer, I always knew you could do it. Love is full of endless possibilities. Your kids will be so loved, I miss you all.

Matt Cruz: congrats!

Kate Callahan: we need to get you a triple stroller

Penelope: Please!! Zoo trips are going to be a riot with that!

Tara: so happy for you all!

Matt: Welcome to the club Spencer and Luke!

Kristy: and Y/N! We need to throw a big baby shower on the farm before the cold weather!

Will: JJ…

JJ: no.

Will: Spencer, tell nini I’m really happy she’s finally going to be a big sis, she’s always been so good with the kids. You made some great kids!

Spencer: thanks everyone ♥︎

tag list: @shemarmooresfedora @spencers-dria @spookyspence @reidsfish @manuosorioh @mochionly @samuel-de-champagne-problems @jswessie187

@k-k0129 @calm-and-doctor

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

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waragainstyourfaith · 3 years

Text

Thank you to @broughtmeyourlove for listening to the beginnings of this (aka when I first got my thoughts down) and thank you to me for saying all this in the shower but most importantly thank you @hannibalhadalittlelamb whose art got me to finally think deeper about the nature of Hannibal’s trial. Let’s begin.

Hannibal’s trial isn’t something I usually see discussed within the fandom space. And why would it be? We know the final verdict and we know that besides that everything works out in the end anyway. It’s an afterthought. So who would care? That’s like reading the first few chapters of a book to skip to the final one. Characters change and so does the story as a whole.

On @/hannibalhadalittlelamb’s post (here), their tags read that their depiction of Hannibal is leaning into OOC (out of character) territory. I disagree.

During Hannibal’s trial, we have to think about how it would have gone down. Actually. There was no possible way for Will to miss or be exempt from this trial. His coworkers and boss knew his strong relation to Hannibal and how their professional relationship had definitely, at some point or another, turned personal. The mutual attempts of murder had not been lost on anyone, but, of course, that made Will all the more personal a witness.

However, Will wants nothing to do with Hannibal.

I understand there is a popular theory going around that Will and Hannibal were in a sort of understanding during the trial, but, honestly? We see Will desperately wanting to remain kept away from Hannibal, to live a normal life with a wife and son. Hannibal throws a wrench into this whole ordeal and this trial, after what conspired between them overseas, leaves Will in the headspace and with the opportunity to quite literally never see Hannibal again in his life.

And after everything and with what Will thinks he wants, how could he deny that? Helping Hannibal rule into the insanity plea was not an act of mercy but an act of protection. Will more than anyone knows Hannibal should be kept under 24/7 surveillance and away from every person he could ever harm. Being ruled out of given the death penalty was the underlying bonus his conscience wouldn’t let him think too deeply about.

In court, you are sworn in on the bible, on God, to tell “the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth [...] So help you God.”. Both Will and Hannibal were undoubtedly sworn in, but considering the argument Hannibal’s legal team was using, would you trust a man under the insanity plea or his victim who is an FBI agent more? Right.

So, Will is given free rein in this courtroom to spin the story of him and Hannibal whichever way he pleases. Seeing what I mentioned before, Will is going to remove himself as far away from Hannibal as he can while still being able to confidentially and securely reveal everything without getting his hands dirty nor embarrassing himself. Hannibal does not get this luxury.

Hannibal is a man of his privacy. As many analyses have written and as many real psychologists have said while dissecting the headspace of Hannibal, his need to eat people is his need to control. The trauma Hannibal went through with Mischa, whether you know the depth of it or just the surface, is enough context to explain what happens next. Hannibal eats them. Attitude is Hannibal’s one basis of morals and consensus. “One should always eat the rude”.

To determine their fate and to consume them is him “playing God”, but at its core, it is Hannibal needing to be in control. We see the severity of his true, underlying, desperation come to light at a first glimpse with the gruesome death of Beverly Katz. Undoubtedly, this is one of his most haunting scenes and we see the insides(dissection) of Beverly as she had attempted to find in Hannibal by going through his home. By sneaking a glance under the person suit. His inner monster comes out in a rage during this murder. He is private and anything that anyone knows about Hannibal is what he has allowed them to live to be able to say so. Look at Will’s position once more.

What no one seems to realize is that, during this trial, Hannibal is not in control. Will is the spinster of their life, a life Hannibal used his truest of colors to paint, and ultimately watched it becomes torn to shreds in front of him. Remember, Will is sworn in during this trial. This does not necessarily mean he is telling the truth, but it means everyone thinks he is. It’s a play of tragedy and Hannibal and Will are the two lead star-crossed lovers.

The entirely of Hannibal and the world he has handed to Will on a sparkling platter is being dissected and shown to everyone. The story of the Chesapeake Ripper was undoubtedly massive. A criminal having not been caught for years that everyone seemed to know nothing about revealed to be one of the closest, inside links with the FBI themselves? Tale of the decade.

The spotlight is on Hannibal, but he is being puppeteered by Will without a say in it for himself.

Hannibal cracks as he’s poked and prodded and bare for the media to do as they like and Will sits by and says what he likes. Here is where we would see a sliver of what lays beneath their person suits. Hannibal’s impulsivity and monstrousness under his charming exterior and Will’s manipulative, isolatedness under his empathetic cloak.

We look at Hannibal. He would be torn to shreds from this. The porcelain pot that contains his beast has broken and shattered by the swatting hand of Will, someone he trusted and loved. The intruding eyes of the jury stay on him as he is diagnosed as insane while he considers himself to be in the best possible headspace he ever could be. Everything he told Will and what he considered truth from Will’s mouth was dismissed and disputed under oath.

Hannibal is embarrassed. People call him insane and lock him away at dig through his mind and his things without his permission with protruding needles and telescopes. Hannibal has to play nice to simply be allowed a working toilet and the books that he has collected himself. Anything and everything he writes and draws that he wants to send out is dissected and analyzed. He has no privacy. He is not allowed a toe out of line.

Looking back at Hannibal from season one, episode seven is a good one to compare from, and when we see him first after year years in isolation, we see plain as day these are not the same men. In season one, Hannibal is handsome and cunning enough so that he wiggles his way into the deepest, most protected parts of the FBI as one of the highest-ranked killers on their watch list. He is polite enough to even invite them to dinner and feed them the organs of his victims.

He’s slick and intelligent and Hannibal is the idea of a lifetime.

And then we come to the second half of season three.

Hannibal, at this point, has been isolated for three years and has been under painful scrutiny even longer. During this time, he’s had all the space he could get to rebuild the person suit, but the pieces won’t fit. It’s jaggedly put together and no matter how long he spends trying to perfect its construction to what it used to be, it isn’t what it used to be. Will had done that to him. Will had effectively broken Hannibal.

I see often the running gag that season three is immensely funnier and leaning much more into the comedy aspect of Hannibal during his interactions with Will and Alana and even jack to an extent. But this is not him being funny; this is Hannibal pushing limits.

Looking back to paragraph eleven [“To determine their fate and consume them…”] we come back to Hannibal’s need to control. Remember, in this space, Hannibal is shoved into line. He’s snappy and cynical here. This is Hannibal exercising his limits and testing patience. His acting out and making snide comments is nothing he can be punished for, but it clearly agitates them. Hannibal teeters just enough on the edge of annoyance so that his jabs still hit, but his privileges still remain.

This is his monster leaking through the cracks. Hannibal is desperate. He is grasping for a hold over these people he had looked down upon from his throne in the sky as God for so long. He is rude. This is both his shield and deception. It leaves Hannibal with the idea that he is effectively feeding them out of his hand, that he has them right where he wants them. When Hannibal does this, it is his last line of defense to keep himself from blowing up. Ruining it all.

Season three is not season one. He is gasping and hurt and that is what makes the Dolarhyde kill all the more powerful. The whiplash and bounce back with his and Will’s relationship is powerful and dangerous.

Will watching Hannibal with his dead stare, person suit thrown off the moment he decided to go with Hannibal into that car, as he is shot is groundbreaking. Hannibal can see Will. they have effectively switched positions. As though he were God, Will looks down on Hannibal’s suffering. When Will decides to fight Dolarhyde in retaliation, this is the point it all cuts lose.

At that moment, Will has freed the beast. Hannibal has finally someone to take the reins of his monster whom he trusts. Because Hannibal never blamed Will, even during that time in his isolation, he was waiting. Waiting for Will because despite the betrayal and despite the hurt he loved him. All that time he loved him.

The Dolarhyde kill is the messiest one of the show, which makes it all the more powerful. Hannibal has--I don’t want to say “lost composure”--but he definitely has dropped the act of his togetherness. In this, Hannibal is free. So long he has spent trying to hold himself together, to fool those around him and take care of everyone and himself.

It’s a common misconception that a person in a position of power, such as a CEO, would want to be in this position all of the time. In fact, it’s been shown that the human mind needs a healthy balance. A person who is pushed around on a day-to-day basis and has no control over their life would most likely enjoy having control over a person and vice versa.

God must be tired. Hannibal was. Wearing his person suit for years and years, with only a dangerous outlet to relieve the built-up tension of his monster. To place the control into Will’s hands is inevitable and the best relief for both of them. Hannibal in killing and Will in power.

In that final scene, Hannibal has surrendered control to Will while barring the entirety of what lay within and Will has a high enough apathy for this to no longer have any hold over him. They have switched their roles. Now, Will is the one pulling the strings and Hannibal is the one letting himself be maneuvered.

This trial was the turn of the tables. It was the biggest part of their character and the biggest foreshadowing for the finale.

In Florence, Hannibal has the hold over Will. In season two, Will has the hold over Hannibal. In season one, Hannibal has the hold over Will. This trial that has been left out was the missing piece to even their stance and to level their playing field, making it easiest for the two to blur.

The trial is effectively and consequently one of if not the most important scene that was missing from the show.

#takes a deep breath of relief #working on this all day in bits and pieces #hannibal nbc #text #hannibal lecter #this is 2k words long have fun yall i did not reread this #gro.dy

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years

Text

scopaesthesia 👁️ chapter 4

chapter 1 chapter 2 chapter 3

Warnings: nonconsensual sex, death, murder, violence, stalking, paranoia, blood, gore, and other warnings to be added

This is dark!Bucky Barnes with a likelihood off dark!Steve Rogers as well and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Not everything is what it seems.

Note: I’m getting this chapter out before I’m clogged up with work. Y’all take care of yourselves and I hope you have a Happy Halloween.

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

Despite your agitation, your isolation slowly reinstilled a sense of stability in you. Even if you were trapped, even if you had little choice in being there, the cabin with the bullet proof windows and advanced security system calmed your wearing nerves. And without a phone, you could not be reminded of, or harassed by the faceless villain who had turned your life on its head.

The first day dragged by as you spent hours pacing in your room and tossing and turning on the mattress. Sure, you were annoyed with Bucky and his demands, his often mercurial moods, but you recalled Steve’s words and they abated your irritation. You could still be in your apartment, still be entirely clueless to your shadowy stalker, still be a sitting duck swimming through dark waters. But you were safe with two super soldiers, even if the circumstances weren’t ideal.

Steve brought you a pre-packaged meal and you ate alone at the desk after trading him for your grocery list.

You stared out the window at the shedding trees and the frozen ground, the critters gathering what they could for their nests and burrows. The preserved potatoes were powdery and stuck to your tongue; the gravy lumpy and bland. You tossed the tray in the bin under the desk and rolled yourself in your covers.

That nail in your skull hadn’t quite relented yet and the knot in your stomach only wound tighter. You were still tender between your legs but the levee had yet to break. You laid awake through the night but for the few hours before sunrise. You awoke with stiff muscles and a heavy head. No longer a sharp pain at the top but a dull pulsing just above your neck.

You went back to the desk, wrapped in the quilt formerly folded over the end of the bed and slid open the drawer. You stirred through the hotel quality contents; cheap pens, a notepad, and a handful of mints. Odd but you supposed you weren’t the first occupants of the safe house.

You took out a blue pen and the pad of paper. You looked out the window and etched in ink the scene on the other side of the glass. You weren’t particularly skilled but the points of the tall pines and the sprawling arms of the walnut tree were simple enough. Little scribbles to show the twigs and pinecones at their feet. You blindly scratched the nib against the thin paper until you heard a knock at your door.

“You awake?” Bucky’s voice came clear through the door.

You put the pen down and cloaked yourself once more in the quilt as you stood. “Yeah,” you called back as you leaned against the edge of the desk. “What is it?”

Bucky carefully turned the handle and opened the door. He wore his high collared jacket with its chest pockets and two more lower down. His leather-sheathed knife hung from his belt, its tip poking out from beneath his coat, and he twisted a pair of gloves in his hands. He let the door fall completely open and lingered in the frame.

“I’m going into town. Steve will be here.” He said as his blue eyes bore into you. “You okay?”

You shrugged and pulled the blanket tighter around you.

“You want me to turn the heat up?” He asked. You didn’t answer. “Look, I’m sorry about last night. About being so blunt but you have to understand, you panicking isn’t helping anyone.”

“Why wouldn’t you at least tell me about something like that? About the drawings?” You snapped. “I have a right to know.”

He sniffed and let out a long breath. “You really don’t want to know everything. Alright. I was just coming to make sure your list was final. Anything I need to add?”

“Just sweeping it aside? Just like that?”

“Honey, you don’t need to worry about this creep. Me and Steve will. You just need to be patient,” He neared you with decisive steps, “And listen to us. We’re your lifeline, it’s about time you start using it.”

“Don’t.” You huffed. “Don’t call me ‘honey’.”

He tilted his head and his eyes sparked. His lips curved slightly as he considered you.

“Sorry,” he said rigidly. “I guess… I didn’t realise I was doing that.”

You watched him as he pulled on his gloves and bent his fingers, flexing his hands as he pushed his shoulders back.

“So, I don’t need to grab anything else while I’m out?” He prodded. “You got enough clothes--”

“Yeah,” you said sharply, “I should be fine. I’d say that list is the least of my worries.”

He smiled and scoffed. “Alright, h-- You need anything, you let Steve know. He’s downstairs trying to figure out breakfast.”

You nodded as he stared at you. He rubbed his hands together and backed away. He turned and stopped at the door.

“If you really want the truth,” he looked over his shoulder, “He killed again. Two girls in as many nights…” He shook his head and tutted. “He seems pretty desperate. It’s a good thing you’re here. With us.” He stepped out into the hall and you barely heard his last word. “Safe.”

👁️

You found Steve in the kitchen grimacing at a bag of oats. His hair was slightly askew and he wore a sweatshirt which would be loose on any other man but clung to his broad chest and thick arms. His blue eyes bore a semblance of fatigue and he looked up as you neared the other side of the long walnut island.

“There’s coffee,” he smiled. “Do you like oatmeal?”

“It will do,” you climbed up on a stool and bent your arms over the counter. “Bucky gone?”

“Yeah,” Steve set down the bag and turned to the cupboard. He pulled out a metal mug in the military style and filled it with coffee from the pot. He slid it over to you. “You like sugar? Cream? Because we have neither.”

“I’m fine,” you chuckled. “So… is this something you do a lot?”

“What? Make coffee?” He asked as he bent and searched the cupboards.

“No, whatever it is we’re doing here. Hiding?”

“I’ve been sent on protective missions before,” he stood and clunked a pot on the counter. “Can’t say it’s ever been this… intense. Usually political,” he opened the bag of oats and poured them into the pot, “Escort from point A to B. Nothing overly complicated.”

“So why exactly has S.H.I.E.L.D. taken the lead and not the FBI?”

He looked at you and raised his brows. He turned to add water to the pot and placed it on the stove. He turned the dial and spun back to you.

“If I tell you, you can’t let on to Bucky that you know.” He warned as he neared the island. “I mean it. I really shouldn’t. He’s right, you know? The less you know, the better.”

“Tell me. I’ll keep my mouth shut.” You urged. “Please.”

He sighed and pushed back his blonde hair. His short stubble caught the light as he dropped his arms.

“We have reason, strong reason, to believe that this… guy has ties to an association known as HYDRA. An organization which has been working to undermine democratic peace for decades.” Steve lowered his voice as he leaned across the countertop. “The hotel room that was… an unexpected and uncharacteristic slip-up. Before, he was stealthy, smart, we were barely able to string it all together. He was all over the city. But… I’m starting to think that it’s all deliberate on his part. He wants to distract us with the overwhelming evidence so that we make a real mistake.”

“But why-- Why would an operative want anything to do with me?”

“Oh, well, we don’t think he’s with HYDRA anymore and that makes him even more dangerous. He’s taken everything they taught him, all the evil they instilled in him, and now he’s working for his own agenda.”

Steve searched your face, “Why he chose you; who knows? Maybe you said ‘hi’ to him and he liked the way it sounded or maybe it’s entirely at random. The FBI handed this case over because they can’t figure him out and I gotta be honest, we’re not any closer than they were. The only upper hand we have is that Bucky saw him. That’s it. We don’t have a name or anything else. Just a face and there are an awful lot of those in New York.”

You trembled and ran your fingertips down your cheeks. You gulped as you sat up and your eyes threatened to well.

“Thanks for telling me.” You whispered.

“Right, but I need a favour in return.” He said.

“What?”

“Stop snooping around. We’re all stuck in here for a while. It doesn’t help anyone, especially not Bucky. He’s just trying to do his job and he’s already had to call in back-up. He’s feeling beat up right now.” Steve explained. “Besides, you really can’t give him a hard time after he got all bloodied up for you.”

“I… I’m sorry. I’m just scared.” You muttered, “I’ll cool it. Okay?”

He smiled and turned back to the stove. He grabbed a wooden spoon and stirred the oats. He swore under his breath.

“I really hope you’re a good cook because we’re all gonna be miserable if I’m in charge.” He tutted at the steaming pot. “Or at least, half-starved.”

👁️

“So we ended up getting lost on the beach,” Steve hit his empty bowl with his elbow as he talked. “And the bozo says he’s gonna get seasick. On land!”

You laughed as Steve’s eyes twinkled but quickly stopped as you heard the beep from the front door. It opened and closed, followed by the tap of fingertips on the panel. You looked over your shoulder as Bucky entered. You hadn’t realised how long you and Steve had been talking. A couple hours even after finishing the chewy porridge.

“There’s more in the car,” Bucky crossed to the island and plunked two bags on it.

“Oh, I’ll help,” you slid off the stool and Bucky caught your shoulder.

“You should stay inside,” Bucky said, “Steve.”

“Alright.” Steve rolled his eyes.

“I’ll clean up in here,” you offered.

“Don’t you dare,” Steve warned as he rounded the counter. “But since you promised to cook tonight I’ll be more than happy to let you do so then.”

“Deal,” you said and watched him pass into the hallway.

Bucky’s hand slipped from your shoulder and he gripped the lip of the counter. “You two get along.”

“Figure I should try, considering,” you moved so that the stool was between you.

“It’s gonna start snowing soon.” He said awkwardly. “Calling for a storm next week. Could be snowed in here.”

“Well, maybe that’s a good thing,” you said.

“Maybe,” he reached into one of the bags as he spoke, “I got you this.” He pulled out a bottle of red, “Figured I might as well.”

“Oh, you didn’t have to but… thanks,” you tried to smile. You heard Steve behind you and Bucky’s jaw squared as he looked over your shoulder. “At least let me help unpack.” You insisted as Steve placed the bags beside the others. “I mean, it’ll be something to keep me busy.”

“Twist my arm,” Steve said, “Alright, I’ll get the dishes and you started putting all this away. Bucky, do you mind helping?”

Bucky nodded and blinked slowly. “Any coffee left?” He asked.

“I’ll make a fresh pot,” Steve said as he gathered up the bowls, “But I wouldn’t recommend my oatmeal. There’s probably something better hidden in those bags.”

“Yeah, I’m good,” Bucky muttered, “It was a long ride.”

👁️

You decided that while you weren’t in control, it didn’t mean you were helpless. It only meant that you needed to let those who knew what they were doing take care of it. Bucky and Steve had years of experience in security and combat. You were just a secretary scared for her life. You had no idea what to do or what you were doing.

After the first couple days, it grew easier. You grew comfortable but not complacent. The few times of day you could cook kept you busy enough to distract you. Steve and Bucky were easier to be around as you grew used to them, even just used to having others in your living space. Mostly, you kept to yourself but managed some decent conversation when you ate or stumbled upon each other in the cabin.

It was quiet and you were bored. Again. There were a few books you'd found to read and your doodles had grown frustrating. You decided to take a shower and try to relax. Your isolation made you restless and your restlessness made you think of why you were hidden away in the middle of nowhere.

You locked the door behind you and hung your towel. To your surprise, Bucky had managed to pick out the exact soap you used. You couldn't recall if you'd been finicky enough to have written it on the list. You stretched and undressed. You still didn't sleep very well but it wasn't as if you did very much either.

You stepped under the showerhead as the pipes whined. In the evening, if your keepers were busy, you'd read by the woodstove. The smell was calming and the crackle filled the dead air. Maybe after you would sneak down and try to warm up in front of the fire.

The shower fogged up and you closed your eyes as you scrubbed your body. The smell was reassuring. It reminded you of when your life was normal. It made you think that maybe you could go back to before. That this might end and you might be free to live again.

You let out a breath and cranked the shower off. You pulled back the curtain as the steam cleared and you patted your skin dry before wrapping yourself in the towel. As you picked up your clothes, you froze. You stood and neared the door. Had you not locked it?

It was half-open and let in a draft from the hallway. You poked your head out and peered up and down the hall. Nothing, no one. Well, you were careless, you could've left it unlocked, not pushed it enough for it to catch.

You tiptoed across the hall to your room and pulled the door shut. This time you made sure it was closed though there was no lock on it. You tossed your clothes on the bed and pulled out a new set. Loose sweatpants and a cotton shirt. You needed to do laundry already. Well, another task to keep you occupied.

You pulled on some socks and crept out into the hall. You descended the stairs and listened for any sign of disturbance. Usually the men worked in the dining room or in the small office on the other side of the stairs.

You got to the bottom of the stairs and neared the front door. You looked out at the grey forest. It was supposed to snow that night, that's what Bucky declared at breakfast. You grasped the handle but it would not turn. You reached to the panel just beside you but it rejected your fingerprint with a loud beep.

"Going somewhere?" Bucky asked and you spun to face him, startled.

"No, I just… haven't been outside and I just wanted to… smell the air. I guess that's, uh, weird." You rubbed your hands together.

"It's freezing. You can't go out like that."

You stared at him. "But can I… go out?"

His blue eyes clung to you and his long lashes flicked. He lifted his brow and stepped closer. He stopped and slid your boots over to you with his foot.

"Stay close," he grabbed his coat, "And wear a hat."

He handed you a wool beanie from his coat pocket before he pulled the ends of his hair from beneath his collar. You took your coat, in slight disbelief, and smiled.

"You sure it's okay?"

"Well, you shouldn't be pent up in here for so long and once it snows, you won't wanna go out much at all."

He opened the door as you tucked your hands into your gloves. You stepped out and he followed you closely as the door clicked shut behind him. You tramped down the steps and bounced on your heels at the bottom. It smelled like pine and cold.

Bucky walked evenly across the clearing and you trailed behind him as he neared the trees. He stopped and waited for you to catch up. He waved you ahead of him. "Just follow the path."

He wasn't far behind as you did as he said, the path winding between trees and petering out before a frosty brook that would freeze over with the first snowfall. Your teeth chattered as the looming winter nipped through your layers. You were quiet as you bent to pick up a pinecone and admire its scales.

You felt Bucky watching you as you turned back and walked around the small clearing amidst the trees.

"Hey," you faced him and tossed the pinecone away, "I'm sorry I was so… contrary. I was afraid."

"It's fine," he shooed away your apology with his hand, "I've dealt with worse."

"Sure but… I owe you a thank you, too. You saved me. More than once. And I know I wouldn't be alive without you. So thanks. Really. And… I am trying. I trust you. I know you're going to get this guy."

He gave a small smile and kicked a stone as he came closer. "Well, let me just say, this is one of the only jobs I've been assigned that hasn't been a complete pain in the ass."

You scoffed and resisted your urge to back away from him. "Flattering, really."

"Twenty minutes," he said, "Then we gotta go back… before Steve notices and gets worried. Or worse, he'll think we left him out of some fun."

"Ah," you snorted, "Yeah, wouldn't want him to think that."

👁️

Another day and then another. Time fell as lackadaisical as the snow. At first, it had been a storm but it had slowed to a powdery lull. Neither Steve nor Bucky spoke of the killer and you didn’t dare to ask. What good would it do you to know he had killed another? Or that some other grisly piece of art had been found? Ignorance was bliss or at least solace.

You found yourself moving from room to room. First, your bedroom, then the kitchen for a cup of tea, the living room to feed the stove and watch it burn, and then back upstairs. You ran into Steve on your way up. He seemed distracted if not a bit perturbed. You noticed that in the last day he and Bucky had been quiet. More so than usual.

You continued up to your room and opened your current read; a classic you refused to read in high school and opted for the Sparknotes instead. You laid on your bed, one leg bent under the other as you swayed back and forth. The words didn’t stick in your mind and you found yourself rereading the same page until you clapped the book shut and snarled.

You sat up and tapped your foot on the floor. You heard voices, muffled by your door. You eked it open and slowly approached the top of the stairs. You listened as the argument came clearer.

“Goddamn it, Bucky, after everything I’ve done for you. What the fuck are we here for? Well, what am I here for?” Steve growled.

“Stop yelling, alright.” Bucky snipped. “Have a little fucking patience. You know this hasn’t been easy.” You heard something slam but couldn’t guess at what. “Don’t fucking blow it. Shut up and have a little faith in me.”

There was grumbling but nothing more as a door closed and blocked out the voices entirely. You felt that heat along the back of your neck. The sudden burst of instinctual fear that nestled along your shoulders. The goosebumps that told you that not all was as it seemed. The creeping, inescapable sensation which had lingered for weeks now.

You pushed yourself up to your feet and headed back to your room. It was a stressful mission, you couldn’t blame the two for getting frustrated. That must have been what it was. They were anxious to get this guy and be onto their next mission. You doubted it was their ideal job to be locked away in the snow.

You stopped as your hand fell to your door handle and you peered down the hall into Bucky’s room. The door was mostly open, only a slight angle blocking out part of the room. Slowly, you dragged your hand away from the knob and felt along the wall as you continued down the hall.

His bed was unmade, the pillows strewn about, and a familiar patch of fabric stuck out from beneath one of them. You glanced behind you and took a breath. You took a step inside and waited as if testing it. Would he know? He seemed to know everything.

You placed one foot in front of the other as softly as you could. You leaned a knee against the mattress and reached beneath the pillow. You lifted up your panties and blanched at the little daisies speckles along the cotton. You’d gone all week without a pair, the mystery of their disappearance forgotten as your own carelessness. You mouthed ‘what the fuck’ as you dropped them back to the bed.

You turned around and went to the tall dresser near the closet. You inched the top drawer open; the rest of your panties bunched up with his briefs. The pink pair with the hearts you didn’t dare to touch as dried white strings stained the lacy edge. You slid the drawer shut and gasped as you were suffocated by your shock.

You spun around and peeked out the open door. You heard nothing but the winter gales outside. You rounded the bed and went to the table in the corner; a monitor, a mouse, a keyboard, stacks of folders and papers.

Your fingers shook as you took your wallet from the mess and opened it up. Your cards, your IDs, and even the cash remained within. You put it back and took the envelope that was hidden beneath it. You opened it and flipped through its contents; your college ID from years ago, the one you got replaced after presumably dropping it in the library, your graduation photo, pictures of your family and you… all things you’d thought you lost.

You replaced the envelope and lifted the top of a file. The same drawing as before and several more, each one bloodier, more gruesome than the last until the final one. A metal arm around your neck…

Your hand hit the mouse as you retracted it in disgust and the monitor lit up. The sudden glare stung your eyes. A dozen different frames across the screen; each one a room in the house, including yours and even one in the shower. Bucky and Steve were in the office, deep in conversation.

You let out a shuddered breath as tears pricked.

You moved the mouse slowly and clicked on the file explorer. Folders sorted by date and then another simply labelled with your street name. You hesitated before you selected it. Dozens, maybe hundreds, of video files sorted by date. You bent closer as you clicked on the last day.

You hit double speed as your empty apartment greeted you. Then you came home, poured your wine, then Bucky arrived, you ordered food… You slowed down the footage as you slumped against the arm of the couch. The wine and the terror of that video call had left you senseless.

Bucky stood and pulled you down to lay across the couch. He backed up and watched you for a while then neared you again. You watched in horror as he bent over you and rolled your pants down. He climbed between your legs and buried his head between them. He shoved his metal hand beneath his mouth and your entire body jolted as he fingered.

You gasped as he finished and pulled your pants back up. Then he stood near you and used your hand to pleasure himself. You exited out of the window before your stomach turned entirely. You stood as you looked to the live feed. The office was empty.

You were suddenly pulled back as a rope wrapped around your neck. You kicked out as you were strangled, a figure flush against your back. You flailed and grabbed at the robe as you were shoved towards the bed. The body fell down onto you and the rope tightened.

“Baby girl,” Bucky’s voice slithered in your ear, “It didn’t have to be like this.”

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acreativeme · 3 years

Text

Anti-undercover

TW: Mentions of death, getting shot, and blood.

Anti-Undercover

Ivan Ortiz x Reader

Y/N stood in the doorway of the Director’s office, listening as he and her unit chief, Jess LaCriox, talked about her new mission. She has to fake her death and go undercover in an underground anti-government group. With her familial history, they think that she is the best option for this mission.

“You will not be able to tell anyone about this mission.” The director stated, leaning forward against his desk.

Y/N shared a look with Jess, knowing that it is going to pain her to not tell Ivan. “I understand, sir.”

The director handed her a thick file, dismissing them as she grabbed ahold of it. “You have a week to prepare.” He said, just as she was shutting the door.

She nodded sharply, closing the door tightly behind her. She couldn’t stop from thinking about the what-ifs and how Ivan is going to handle her death. When he joined the team, something clicked within both of them and they became incredibly close. The spark blossomed into something more shortly after they became friends.

The next day, they got a case. A man was targeting women, who he deemed were trying to ‘end to male species’-- which kind of pissed her off. She talked with Jess about how this case could be her way to fake her death, because of this man’s disdain for women. He was quick to agree, but brought up that they have to be careful.

When they had narrowed down some locations, Jess and Y/N were lucky enough to have actually found him. He was holding a female CEO of a Management Company hostage in her Town Home.

With their guns raised, they silently move towards his ranting and raving about how she should only be managing men with her body. Y/N frowned at his statement, kind of wanting to shoot him in the nuts. Jess nudged her, signalling her to take charge.

Y/N stepped into the kitchen, because of course he wants to put the woman in her place. “Graham Holmes… FBI… Put your gun down and step away from Ms.Holloway..” Her voice was firm and authoritative.

His face grew red at her tone. “You have the audacity to use that tone with me!” He screamed.

Y/N smirked, “Considering that I am more important than you, I think that I have every right to use any tone I want with you. I mean seriously, my cat Ginger has more brains than you.”

He growled, like literally growled, at her, moving his gun so that it was focused on Y/N. “You think you are sooo special, but I bet any of your male counterparts are ten times the agent you will ever be.”

Y/N shrugged, brushing off his comment. “They can’t be ten times better than me, because I trained them. I am better than any man on my team. I am far superior than any of them.” She said it slowly to make sure it rubbed him wrong.

He screamed, pulling the trigger of his gun. The bullet hit her stomach, causing her to fall backwards just after getting a shot off herself. She hit him dead center.

Jess moved in quickly, calling for two squads and that an officer was down. He cut Ms. Holloway free. “Where are your kitchen towels?” He asked, looking around the busted up kitchen.

She pointed to the drawer next to the sink. “In the top drawer.”

Jess nodded, grabbing three towels. “Thank you.” He fell to his knees, pressing the first towel to the wound. “You did great, Y/N. But please don’t actually die.” He whispered the last sentence.

She winced, smiling up at him. “You taught me well, Jess.” She coughed up blood. “I think the bullet hit my lung.” She gasped, trying to take in air.

Panic filled Jess’ eyes, “Don’t talk. Breath in through your nose.”

Her eyes started to droop. “Tell Ivan that I love him and I am sorry.” A tear rolled down her cheek, mixing with the blood that she had coughed up.

The team stood around a blown up picture of Y/N, sharing memories of her. Jess had to stand back and watch as the team mourned someone who wasn’t even dead. He watched as Ivan drank and glared at the photo of the one person he loved. His heart ached, because he knew what Ivan was feeling and he wanted to make it go away.

Jess walked up to Ivan, who had just taken a long swig of his beer. “It will be okay.” He squeezed his shoulder.

“I was going to propose.” Ivan replied, voice raspy from holding back tears.

Y/N was coming back. She had gotten enough evidence to shut down the anti-government group within 6 months. She couldn’t help but be proud of herself, because any other agent would have taken over a year to collect the amount of evidence that she got. The leader had warmed up to Y/N quickly, especially after finding out that her father had led one of the largest anti-government compounds /groups in American history. She had told him that her father had her infiltrate the FBI as a spy, but was killed before anything could come of the information that she had stolen.

It was partly true. Her father was the reason behind her joining the FBI, but not for that reason. She had hated what her father screamed about and she wanted to put him away. She was also not going to share that she had been the one that killed her own father--- which only happened because he was using her 4 year old sister as a shield.

Y/N took a deep breath, straightening her mask-- cause COVID.. She pushed open the door, walking in slowly. “Anyone here?” She asked, looking around.

The team, who had been about to go over a new case froze, had been scattered around a large room. “Y/N?” Hana asks, slowly standing from her place at the table.

Y/N waved awkwardly. “Hey, guys.”

Hana almost tackled her into a hug, sobbing in relief. “You are alive!”

The rest of the team, minus Ivan and Jess, took turns hugging her. Just as Kenny was pulling away, Y/N saw Ivan storm out of the room. She shared a look with Jess, who nodded at her to follow him.

Y/N found him outside, glaring at a tree. “What did that tree ever do to you, Ivan?” She asked softly, walking slowly towards him.

Ivan tensed up, eyes squeezing shut in anger. “It pretended to be dead for 6 months and thought it could walk back into my life without warning.”

She sighed, heart breaking at the pain in his voice. “You were supposed to know that I wasn’t actually dead. I made a list and gave it to LaCroix.”

He groaned, finally looking at her. “LaCroix knew that you were still alive?”

Y/N nodded. “He was the one that recommended me for the mission.”

“What was the mission?” He asked, fully turning towards her.

“Shutting down an anti-government cell that was inspired by my father.” Y/N responded, not holding back. “He and the director thought that I was the best option given my history. I didn’t want anyone else to suffer like my sister, like me. I had to do my part in shutting down something that my father had inspired, Ivan.”

Ivan slumped against the tree, anger draining from his body at the sight of her big eyes. He understood where she was coming from, as he had to do things for this job that he normally wouldn’t. “I am still mad.”

She chuckled, eyes swelling up with tears. “I figured. I am so sorry, Ivan.” She took a cautious step towards him.

He nodded, signalling her to walk closer. “I forgive you.” He pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly to his chest in fear of her slipping away.

“I love you, Ivan.” She whispered into his chest, tears falling freely.

He kissed the top of her head, tears falling too. “I love you more.”

#requests #ivan ortiz #ivan ortiz imagines #imagines #one shots #FBI Most Wanted #fbi most wanted imagine #faking death #undercover #trigger warning #sweetswriting

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shemarmooresfedora · 3 years

Text

Rebuilding Family

Summary: Y/N and Spencer were college sweethearts at Cal-Tech but once Spencer got accepted to the FBI Academy, he ended things deciding it was not fair to make Y/N wait for him. When they meet again years later, he discovers something unexpected.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

A/N: i hit 200 followers!! as celebration, i put out a list of 40 prompts and you can send me an ask with up to three and i will write a one-shot including them! i have already received one request and i’m already in the process of writing it but i would love to write more!

Masterlist

Chapter 23

You inhaled sharply as you sat up in the hospital bed. Spencer looked at you, concerned.

“The doctor gave you the option to stay here for one more night. Are you sure you want to be discharged today?” Spencer asked.

“I need to go home. It’s so boring here. I’ll heal quicker at home, I promise,” you whined.

“Scientifically, that’s not possible but fine. Don’t think for a second that I’m going against the doctor’s orders though. Bed rest for a week,” Spencer brushed the stray hairs off your face and placed a gentle kiss on your forehead.

“You’re no fun,” you pouted as he helped you into the wheelchair.

“I think Jo and Penelope have a little surprise for you waiting at home that will cheer you up,” Spencer smiled.

Spencer insisted on carrying you bridal-style through the front door because you couldn’t walk up the steps.

“We’re not officially married yet,” you teased.

“Oh hush, I’d keep you in my arms forever if I could,” he pulled you closer to his chest.

You snuggled into his cardigan that smelled like an old bookstore, “I guess I wouldn’t mind that either.”

Spencer slowly put you down and opened the door to your bedroom. Technically, it was you and Spencer’s shared bedroom now because he hardly ever used his bedroom now other than as storage for his things. Most of his clothes had already migrated to your closet and one of your bedside tables now had piles of books, a journal with chicken scratch, and his reading glasses atop it.

Inside, you saw Jo and Penelope holding heart balloons that said “Get Well Soon!” and a big teddy bear.

“Awww, thank you, my lovelies,” you smiled.

“I brought the mini fridge from my office so you are fully stocked with waters, juice, ice cream, fruit, whatever your little heart desires,” Penelope chirped.

“Thank you, Pen. You didn’t have to do that. I feel bad now. Where are you going to put your lunch?”

“Nonsense, my dear! There’s a fridge in the break room I can use. Don’t worry about me,” she assured you.

“And I made you drawings, Mommy,” Jo gestured to the walls of the room covered in colorful crayon sketches of animals, dinosaurs, trees, and people.

“Oh my god, these are so gorgeous, Jo! They are definitely going to help me get better, thank you.”

Jo hopped up on the bed to give you a hug.

“You’re welcome, Mommy,” she said as you planted a kiss on her head.

“Alright, I’m going to head out. Let me know if there’s anything I or anyone else at the BAU can do, literally anything, you just name it,” Penelope stated.

“Bye, Pen. Thank you so much,” you waved.

“Do you want soup? Spring rolls? Tea? What can I do for you, love?” Spencer eagerly asked.

“Could you please see if we have the ingredients for a cake for a special little 7 year-old?” you grinned.

“One cake, coming right up,” Spencer nodded, “Jo, do you want to help or stay with Mommy?”

“Stay with Mommy,” Jo grabbed the TV remote and curled into your side.

“Can you handle it?” you asked hesitantly, knowing baking wasn’t really Spencer’s forte.

“I will try my best,” he smiled, “And if not, I will go to the store.”

An hour later, Spencer opened the bedroom door, holding a chocolate cake with purple candles. He looked absolutely adorable, he was wearing your sunflower apron and he had flour residue on his nose.

“As promised,” he smiled, setting the cake down.

Jo was practically drooling as the cake was set in front of her.

“Hold on, I need to get plates and forks!” Spencer rushed out of the room and down the stairs.

“You better hurry. Jo looks like she is ready to just start eating it with her hands,” you laughed.

A week later, you woke up super early and jumped out of bed, dancing around a little in Spencer’s sweater, your PJ shorts, and fuzzy socks.

“Bed rest is over!” you cheered quietly to yourself, going downstairs to make banana bread.

Spencer came down fifteen minutes later as you were dancing around the kitchen to your music and whisking the batter.

“Bed rest is over,” you beamed as he came up behind you, tucking his chin into your neck and squeezing you softly, leaving a kiss as he pulled away.

“I love you,” he grinned.

“And I love you too...Spence, I was thinking…” you turned to face him after you put the pan in the oven.

“About what?” he asked, leaning against the kitchen counter with his mug of coffee.

“I don’t want to wait any longer. Can we please get married already?” you asked.

“Like now now?” he smiled softly.

“Like as soon as we can but still having a small ceremony so our friends and family don’t kill us for eloping,” you placed your hands on his chest.

“JJ and Will had their wedding in Rossi’s backyard,” Spencer suggested.

“Penelope did say if we needed anything, just ask,” you grinned.

Spencer already had his phone out of his pocket before you could say anything else. He dialed Rossi and put it on speaker.

“Reid, to what do I owe this pleasure on a lovely Tuesday morning,” Rossi spoke through the phone.

“Hey, Rossi. Y/N and I kind of have a big favor to ask,” Spencer began.

“Name it.”

Everything was a whirlwind after that. You decided Saturday evening would be best for the wedding so you and Spencer had exactly five days to coordinate your wedding.

Luckily, the team took care of most of the planning like the caterer and the set-up of Rossi’s backyard but you and Spencer’s opinions were still needed for everything from which flowers you wanted in your bouquet to what flavor of cake.

You and Spencer sat in bed one night criss-cross across from each other and you each had a little journal and pen in your hand. You both wrote your vows over the next hour. Spencer would occasionally look up at you, stare for a minute, silently smiling, and then continue jotting something down.

Spencer pushed up his glasses on the bridge of his nose and leaned over your journal.

“No peeking!” you rolled on your back, flailing your legs so he couldn’t get to your journal.

“Ugh fine, I surrender,” he laughed, grabbing on to your legs to stop your movements, “I guess I can wait 3 more days.”

He leaned down to kiss you.

“3 more days,” you repeated with a dreamy smile.

You and Jo met the BAU ladies at a boutique to get dresses for everyone. You had decided on a dusty blue for the bridesmaid dress color but you let them choose which style they wanted so everyone was matching but still got to decide which dress they liked best.

Jo was essentially given free rein in the children’s section of the store and chose a pale pink dress with a bow on the back that would serve as her flower girl dress.

After all that was settled, everyone gathered on the couch near the fitting room to watch you try on dresses, you had been saying from the start that you just wanted something simple. All the options in the store were overwhelming to you but the girls insisted you at least try on a little of everything to get a feel for it.

You came out in a huge poofy wedding dress courtesy of Penelope.

Jo burst out in giggles, “Mommy looks like a cupcake.”

“I think anything overly poofy is ruled out. I want to be able to pee without the help of 3 bridesmaids,” you walked back into the fitting room.

Next was a gown with lots of detailed beading and lace and a long train.

“I think it’s too much,” you sighed, “Plus, I don’t want to trip on this train while walking down the aisle,” you returned to the stall.

You walked out of the dressing room once more and everyone gasped.

“Oh my god,” Penelope was fanning her face to dry the fast-forming tears.

“Y/N, I don’t want to speak for you but I think this is the one,” JJ smiled.

The dress you were wearing was a white satin gown. It was a maxi dress with spaghetti straps and it hugged your hips but was loose around your legs so it was still comfortable.

“It’s perfect,” you smiled softly, looking in the mirror.

Jo hopped off of Emily’s lap and joined you on the little stage, still in her flower girl dress, doing a little twirl. You started to cry from all the happiness and pent-up excitement you were feeling.

“Hey, how’d it go?” Spencer asked when you got home.

You rounded the corner to the couch where he was laying.

“That good?” he asked.

“What?” you furrowed your brow, looking at him in confusion because you hadn’t said anything yet.

“You have remnants of mascara on your cheeks indicating that you were crying and that means you must have found the perfect dress because Jo is over there grinning like a fool,” Spencer smiled.

“You know you’re a retired profiler, right?” you teased.

“Mommy looked so pretty, Daddy! You wouldn’t even believe it!” Jo exclaimed.

“Oh, I believe it, Princess,” Spencer lifted Jo up on to his lap, “I know it’s against the rules for me to see Mommy’s dress but can you do a fashion show for me with yours?”

Jo nodded enthusiastically, running up to her room with the bag in her hand.

“Ready!” she called out a few minutes later.

“Now introducing your royal highness, Princess Josephine Y/L/N-Reid,” Spencer announced as Jo walked down the stairs, doing a fancy royal wave.

A/N: i absolutely can not wait to write the wedding chapter

#spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader #dad!spencer #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid #reid x reader #spencer x reader #cm fanfic #criminal minds

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papa-evershed · 2 years

Note

Hey I respect that you liked the finale but can you honestly not see why people disliked it? The ketamine plotline is completley unforgiveable, since M99 was never connected to the BHB in the original show, so why would it show up in that google search? Super cop Angela did in a couple of episoes what the greatest FBI minds couldnt ever do. Harrison going from setting up a school shooting just so he could stab someone to then wanting to be normal and shooting dexter?? And then Dex killing Logan was completley out of character, what was his plan? For Harrison to be on the run as a wanted felon for the rest of his life? I could go on but this is just a little perspective, i didnt hate what happened but I hate how we got there.

Hey you don't respect that I liked it or you wouldn't talk down to me. Just ya know, heads up.

If I hear another word about m99 I'm going to bash my head into a wall. Yes, it was a huge mistake. But we know what the writers were intending to do there, what they were trying to convey. At the end of the day, even if they hadn't made that mistake, they were going to have Angela bust Dexter and put the pieces together somehow, so beating this dead horse into the ground is useless. You can hate how she figured him out but she was always going to figure him out and complaining about the method won't change that.

Harrison didn't "set up a school shooting". The idea that Harrison started it all from scratch is a crackpot theory bred from neckbeards on Reddit. Yes, he admitted to faking it, but he never said he faked the entire fucking kill list. Dude, he didn't make Ethan's fake Punisher pictures or are we gonna pretend Harrison drew those too?

And just because Harrison does have dark urges (because he clearly does and there's no denying that) it doesn't mean the kid doesn't wish to be normal. Why is that so hard to understand. THAT is the main difference between him and Dexter. THAT is the takeaway. Dexter gives into his dark urges and Harrison has spent all season trying to figure out how to stop them (although he obviously failed at times). It is not a leap for a kid struggling with dark urges to see what Dexter is doing and realize that is NOT what he wants for himself.

Dexter killing Logan was not out of character. Anyone who says that has never watched the show I guess. Rule 1 of the code...don't get caught. Do Doakes or LaGuerta ring a bell to y'all or are we just pretending that never happened? I can't believe I even have to say that.

As for what was his plan–why do y'all expect him to have some grand plan when he's backed into a corner and desperate. Obviously going on the run was a shit idea but really, what other ideas were there that resulted in Dexter and Harrison staying alive and together (what Dexter wanted)??

????

????????????????????????

People that are desperate don't have the best judgement...obviously?

My question to everyone who disliked is...what did you want? For Dexter and Harrison to go on the run together? To live happily ever after? For more drawn out seasons that go down the toilet like the original series? For the ghost of Doakes to appear and kill Dexter? For Dexter to wake up in a hospital, next to Rick Grimes, so they could both have a half assed feature film in 2035?

I could go on but just a little perspective, the show had to end. And thank God it did.

ETA: If you liked how it ended but not the journey there, why get so worked up over it? Maybe it did need some fine tuning but that doesn’t take away from the overall message and purpose it was conveying. Nitpicking, while still satisfied with the ending, reeks of nothing more than bitching just to bitch. That’s all audiences do anymore is rip things to shreds for the sake of what??? Being miserable? Feeling superior? I don’t get it. Never will.

#i liked the ending and i have zero desire to join in or hear the hate #nor do i owe it to anyone to listen #let a bitch fucking live

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dr-spencer-reids-queen · 3 years

Text

Extreme Aggressor: Final Part

Pairing: Eventual Spencer Reid x Reader

Word Count: 2.6k

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

Summary: Jason Gideon is called back from a six-month leave from the Behavioral Analysis Unit to profile a killer. Meanwhile, the team flies across the country to Seattle when another young woman goes missing at the hands of "The Seattle Strangler," another serial killer.

Author’s Note: Here is it finally! After hard work, it is finally ready for your viewing pleasure! Please, feedback is always appreciated so let me know what you like about it and what you didn’t!

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

So without further ado, please enjoy!

After the shocking news that Gideon presented, you were able to get a list and pictures of the people the police have interviewed. Gideon wanted you to look at them since you might be able to tell who the suspect in question was. The only name that stood out to you was Richard Slessman, and you couldn’t tell them how you knew this, but there was something about those eyes that just told you what you needed to know.

“You sure about this?” Gideon asked.

No matter how long he knew you, he always had doubts about the things you could do—even if those doubts were small.

“Are you really asking me that question?” you whispered, holding your gun close to your body as you hid while another agent went to lure Richard into this house. “The minute I passed his house, I could tell he was the one. His house reeks of spiritual energy.”

The woman known as Elle Greenaway, a woman who wants the other opening in the BAU, was bringing Richard to the abandoned house across the street from his own in order for the FBI to take him down. As soon as she entered the house, she began leading him into the room where everyone was. As soon as she gave the green light, the swat team in head-to-toe uniforms appeared and trained their guns on him. Elle took him down and began to read him his rights.

“Richard Slessman, FBI,” Elle said as she began to handcuff him. “You are under arrest for the murder of…”

Her voice trailed off as you and Gideon stepped into the light. Richard stared at you two for such a long time as if he knew something you two didn’t. As soon as they got him in handcuffs, you headed over to his house where the rest of the team was waiting. As soon as you entered the house, you could feel the energies of spirits that they left behind. While none of the victims died here, they did want you to know what something happened here.

“There's no sign of the girl here,” Spencer noted when Gideon walked in behind you. “We can arrest him with probable cause, but we won't be able to hold him.”

“Slessman's been at the top of the suspect list. Is that the mother?” Gideon asked when he saw an older woman sitting at the table with a distressed look on her face.

“Grandmother. The mother died in a fire when he was 13,” Elle informed.

“I’m going to check upstairs,” you told Gideon before going off on your own.

There was something calling you upstairs, but you didn’t exactly know what. The more steps you walked, the stronger the energy got. Derek was stationed inside of Richard’s room, but that’s not where you wanted to be. There was a door right next to his bed, and when you opened it, there was a staircase behind it. Climbing it, you saw Elle, Spencer, Gideon, and Hotch standing inside the attack.

“Oh, my God,” you whispered once you had both feet on the floor.

“What is it?” Hotch asked.

“Richard’s standing right next to you,” you muttered.

Hotch looked around him, but Richard was nowhere to be found.

“He’s downstairs.”

“Let her finish,” Gideon defended you.

Richard was on the phone, and although you couldn’t hear what he was saying, you could guess due to the stressed look on his face. He wasn’t getting anywhere with the person on the phone, so he hung up and turned on his TV. Gasping, your eyes widened at what you saw on the TV.

“He just got off the phone with someone, and he turned on the TV. There’s a woman on the TV, but she’s tied and gagged. Oh no, there’s a man with her, and he’s—oh God. Richard is sitting by the game that Spencer is looking at and starts to play himself. I can’t,” you whispered, looking away in pain.

“What kind of game is it?” Elle asked.

Richard misted away so that you were brought back to reality.

“In China, it's called wei-chi. Here we call it ‘go’. It's considered to be the most difficult board game ever conceived,” Spencer answered.

“Chairman Mao required his generals to learn it,” Gideon added.

“This might provide an advantage, actually. Go is considered to be a particularly psychologically revealing game. There are profiles for every player—the conservative point counter, the aggressor, the finesser, and more.”

“What kind of player is Slessman?” Hotch asked, looking at you to make sure you were okay.

“Extreme aggressor.”

“Well, we’re not going to find answers up here. We need to talk to Richard,” you said, crossing your arms.

Spencer, Elle, and Gideon nodded in agreement and left the attic. Hotch walked past you, but instead of leaving, he stopped by your side.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. I don’t get to choose what I see. Sometimes, I don’t prepare for it. I mean, I see things like murder and rape, but I can’t ever prepare myself for it. I promise, I’ll be better at it.”

“You’re doing fine,” he said calmly.

He let you go down the stairs first, and you watched as Elle and Derek tried to figure out how to get into the computer that was apparently locked.

“Do you think you can break in? In 6 tries?” Elle asked.

“Try again. Fail again. Fail better,” Gideon said.

“Samuel Beckett,” you and Spencer said at the exact same time.

He looked at you, but you blushed and quickly looked away.

“Try not. Do or do not,” Derek argued.

“Yoda,” Spencer whispered to Gideon.

The fearless leader took one look at Richard’s shelf and noticed something familiar. He grabbed a book, but it wasn’t that he was interested in. Inside contained something far more personal to Gideon.

“I wanna talk to him. Y/N, will you come with? I want you to get a read on him.”

“Sure,” you nodded, walking past Spencer to follow Gideon to the kitchen where Richard was silently stewing.

The criminal looked at you two as you took a seat, and you crossed your arms as you just stared at him. Gideon was doing all the talking here, you were just here to see if you could get anything on him.

“You read my paper. Learn anything?”

“Heirens said a man living inside of his head was the one who committed the murders. You said he was lying, that there'd never been an actual case of multiple personalities.”

“You have an academic interest in dissociative identity disorder, or you just planning your defense?” Gideon asked. Since Richard didn’t say anything else, he opened the book he grabbed and pulled out the article that was stored inside. “You a fan of Adrian Baal's work?”

“No. I'm a fan of yours,” Richard smiled.

He leaned in to try and get under Gideon’s skin, and as soon as you got a whiff of his cologne, your vision got blurry. Richard, Gideon, the table, the article, and even the policeman who was standing behind Richard were getting darker, only for a new picture to replace them. It was Heather inside of a cage, but Richard wasn’t with her. It was a much larger man who approached the cage. His back was turned to you so you couldn’t see his face.

The only name you could see around the room was Timothy.

“Why don't you tell us where Heather Woodland is?” Gideon asked, bringing you back to reality.

“Woodland… Isn't she the girl that went missing a couple days ago?” Richard smile. Gideon had enough of him and motioned to the officer.

“Get him out of here,” Gideon said, getting up.

Staying where you are, you watched Richard get taken away, but his gaze was on you’re the entire time. Ever since entering this house, you’ve gotten two visions. Putting those together—Richard talking on the phone, his stressed look, the woman on the TV, the woman in the cage, the large man, and the name Timothy—there was another unsub.

There was another killer.

Getting up, you rushed out of the house to try and find where Gideon might have gone to. Once outside, you heard two men talking to one another and noticed it was the two superior men.

“Gideon! Hotch!” you exclaimed, rushing over to him. “There’s two unsubs. Richard didn’t kill those girls, someone else did. All I’m getting is the name Timothy. Does that help?”

“It does. Stay here with Morgan and Reid. Call me if you get anything else.”

“Okay,” you said, walking back into the house only to find Spencer inside Richard’s room sitting crossed-leg on the bed with every single CD this guy owned—opened and laying everywhere.

“What is all this?”

“Morgan thinks that the CDs might help us with the password.”

“Will it?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Can I help?”

“Be my guest,” he offered.

Looking at all of the CDs in the room, you tried to get a feel for the energies surrounding them—the more energy a CD has, the more that Richard used it. Looking at the CD shelf, you froze when you saw Richard standing there, looking through the different kinds of CDs.

“What is it?” Spencer asked, seeing as there was nothing by the CD shelf. “Is he here?”

“Yeah.”

“What is he doing?”

“Looking for a CD. There’s hundreds of them, but there is only one that he wants,” you noticed, walking closer to him.

He picked out a Metallica with a smile before heading up to the attic. As soon as Richard disappeared, you looked through each and every one of the CD cases until you found the one you wanted.

“What are you doing? Did you find something?”

“He chose this one,” you held up the Metallica CD.

“It’s empty.”

“Doesn’t the laptop have a CD port?”

“You’re right,” he whispered, grabbing something off the bedside table.

He walked upstairs with you trailing behind to find Derek almost on edge.

“We’ve been thinking about the CD's,” Spencer began.

“Oh, Reid, come on. We tried the CD's. We searched, sifted, and sorted through every one of this guy's head-banging heavy metal collection. We gotta find something, or this girl is dead.”

“Think you may have missed the obvious,” you said.

Spencer used the tiny pin in his hand to forcefully open the CD port on the side of the laptop. Inside was the missing CD case.

“What are you doing? Reid, what made you think of this?”

“It was the only empty case,” you shrugged, tossing the case to Derek.

“Alright. I'm an insomniac who listens to Metallica to go to sleep at night. What song could possibly speak to me?” Derek thought out loud.

Spencer eyed the back of the case before looking at his friend.

“Enter Sandman.”

“You sure?” Derek asked.

Once Spencer nodded, he typed the password into the computer, and low and behold, it unlocked. The only thing on the home screen was a video file, but it wasn’t just any kind of video…

It was a live one.

“Call Gideon,” you gasped once the video file was opened.

It was the same thing you have been seeing—Heather tired and gagged inside of a cage. Derek grabbed his phone and dialed the superior agent.

“Gideon, Heather's alive… 'Cause we're watching her right now.”

“I feel her pain and fear,” you whispered with wide eyes.

The swat team was called up to examine the video, and then they began searching the attic to see if they could find evidence of where this girl might be.

“Morgan, can you show me the last 12 images lined up next to each other?” Spencer asked.

“Yeah,” Derek muttered, doing as he was told.

“You see that? The light bulb hanging from the wire?”

“Yeah, what about it?”

“It's shifting positions like it's swaying, like the earth is tilting.”

“Not the earth, doc,” you commented, “the ocean. That girl is on a boat.”

“Hotch, Heather is on a boat,” Derek said once he called Hotch. “It’s a pier or a dock. He wouldn't be able to transmit the webcam image from the middle of the ocean… It's the best we got, Hotch. Even if we're right, getting the exact location's on you, my friend… To work me a little magic.”

Just to be updated on Heather’s situation, you kept watching the video to see what might happen or if the second unsub, which was Timothy Vogel, went to get her. Apparently, when Richard was in jail, Timothy was the guard who befriended him and looked out for him. That was the man you’d been seeing in your visions when you saw Heather in the cage. The video was transmitting shot by shot, and in one shot, she was alone.

The second shot, Timothy was approaching her.

“Guys, he’s inside,” you panicked.

The panic you were feeling was mostly coming from her since her energy was strong enough to come through the camera.

“Get Elle on the phone,” Derek ordered as Spencer did what he asked.

Once the female agent was on the phone, Derek took the phone from her and started speaking, but you weren’t paying attention to them. Heather started fighting back and kicked Timothy in the face. She escaped the room, and once he did as well, you couldn’t get anything else.

“He’s gone. They’re gone. I can’t see them anymore,” you panicked.

“Elle and Gideon can handle this. Come on, we have to go,” Spencer urged.

This woman’s life was in danger, and you couldn’t be responsible for another dead body.

You wouldn’t allow that to happen.

“You thinking about doing this full time?” Gideon asked after Heather was rescued and Timothy was taken away.

Hugging yourself tightly, you looked at the other agents on the other side of the dock. Spencer, Derek, and Hotch were talking to one another, and Elle was talking with one of the officers.

“I am. I was trained to help people. It’s what my dad taught me to do.”

“I’ll put in a good word for you then,” he said, leaving your side.

“Thank you, Jason.”

The plane was silent since most of the agents were sleeping. Derek and Elle were comfortable on the couches, Gideon and Hotch were talking quietly in the middle of the plane, and you were sitting all by yourself in the corner, giving everyone their spaces since you have yet to feel like one of them.

“Nice job you did back there,” Spencer complimented you, taking a seat next to you with a coffee in his hands.

“Thanks, you too.”

“I’m having trouble understanding the things you can do.”

“What do you want to know?” you asked, closing the file in your hands.

“How long have you been able to do this?”

“All my life, I guess. I was born with it. I just have incredible sensitivity to people’s emotions. You know how some people know when they’re being watched? That feeling of eyes on you? Or when your gut is telling you something is bad or wrong? Well, this is my sixth sense.”

“Can you hear things?”

“No. Back at Richard’s house when I saw him talking on the phone, I couldn’t hear what he was saying. However, based on his looks and his emotional state, I had a clue. I’m kind of lucky I don’t hear what I see because if I did, I don’t think I could ever leave my house. I can close my eyes if it gets too much, but I can’t turn off my hearing.”

“So, you can get a read on me?”

“Yes, I can. Do you want me to try?” you chuckled.

Spending time with Spencer the whole ride home was something you can get on board with. You just met him, but there was something about him that just drew you in.

"When you look long into an abyss, the abyss looks into you." - Friedrich Nietzsche

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ssa-thotchnerr · 3 years

Text

Don’t Let Me Drown

Anonymous asked:

maybe a Hotch angst with his daughter being kidnapped by unsub, and he decides to drown her because he knows that she’s afraid of water and can’t swim? Maybe no happy ending? Thank you so much!

word count: 2.2k words of pure ANGST

warnings: drowning, major character death, grief, angst to the max, sad!hotch, kinda shifty writing ngl

a/n: anon, you are EVIL! I love it though. Yeah, this is pretty sad cause Hotch is really sad 😭😭😭 anyway I feel like this is really shit so if yall could give some feedback, I would really appreciate it!

—

"Shut up!"

You winced as you were harshly hit over the head by your kidnapper. He slammed the back door of the van shut, causing you to flinch back in fear. He'd just tied your arms back, not wanting to risk you trying to scratch his eye out once more, since you'd nearly succeeded the first time over. You didn't care that you were full on crying, the kind of crying that shook your entire body painfully.

The kind of crying that suggested fear.

You didn't even remember what happened, one minute you were walking home from school, the next you were in some strangers van with your arms lashed behind your back painfully tight. He wasn't too bothered about you knowing his name of what he looked like, you knew what that meant. You knew why he didn't care about you knowing who he was, what he was going to do to anyone else he could get his hands on.

You knew he was gonna kill you.

The sheer thought made you whimper. You didn't want to die, not like this. Not in fear, not without saying goodbye to your dad, your little brother, your friends. You didn't want to be murdered, not be a case that JJ would be given one morning and be pinned up on a wall. Taking in a deep breath, you attempted to steady out your breathing, there was no way you were going down without at least trying to negotiate your way out of here.

"Please, let-let me go, I won't tell anyone, I-I promise," You said, looking up at the man as he slid the door of the van open. "You-you don't wanna do this." You tried your hardest not to stutter, but your nerves were at an all time high, you couldn't help it. He laughed as he reached forward and snatched you towards him, causing you to scream. "Let me go! Please!" You cried as he picked you up.

"Shut up, brat!" He snarled, throwing you onto the ground. Looking around, you realised you were at the lake near Quantico, meaning that if your dad and his team were working on this case already, you at least had a chance.

Right?

Pulling out your phone that he'd taken from your pocket, he grinned as he took a picture of you. You shook your head and let out an angry huff, your chest heaving with each and every breath you took. The Unsub smiled at you maliciously as he put your phone up to his ear.

"Poor baby, just wanting her daddy to come and save her, huh?" You sniffled as you looked up at him, an angry look on your face as your eyebrows were furrowed. "Well, how about I left you speak to your dad one more time, a final goodbye?" You felt your stomach drop.

Final goodbye?

You started to tug desperately at the rope lashing your arms to your side, fear overtaking your rational side as you realised where you were. You were by a river, you couldn't swim, and this guy appeared to know and have something against your dad.

"Hello, is this SSA Hotchner?"

—

Hotch let out a frustrated sigh as your phone went to voicemail once more. He'd tried calling you about 7 times, and every time he tried, it rang out to voicemail. Hotch knew that your phone was always on, after all, you were a modern day teenager, didn't all of them have their phones on all the time?

"Still nothing?" Derek asked. Hotch shook his head as he looked up at his colleague, trying to hide the complete and under distress he was feeling at the moment. But Derek had been working with Hotch for years, and he knew his usually stoic boss better than Hotch thought he did. "Hey, it's alright. We'll get her home, Y/N's a smart kid." Derek assured him.

"I know she's a smart kid, but she's still a child, she'll be scared," Hotch said. As much as he didn't want to think about it, he knew there was a possibility you were already dead. He hated that he thought of that, that you died scared, possibly painfully. Hotch had never answered his phone quicker than when your name flashed up on the screen. "Y/N-" Hotch was prepared to ground you until you graduated high school just for worrying him so much.

"Hello, is this SSA Hotchner?"

That wasn't you.

"Where's Y/N?" Hotch asked, trying to keep his voice steady. Derek looked out to the bullpen, seeing that the whole team, Minus Rossi and Emily, was there, he signalled to Hotch, who nodded as Derek left him.

"You'll be able to find Y/N at Lake Ridge," He answered.

"Help me! Dad!" You were crying. Hotch couldn't help but to do the same thing, he stood up, he didn't want to feel like it was a hopeless situation anymore. The line went silent for a minute, making Hotch freeze on the spot.

There was a scream.

The line went dead.

It was cold.

So, so cold.

But you found that after a while, it wasn't cold anymore. It almost felt comforting, that if you went just that little bit deeper, you would be able to get warmer, and warmer, and warmer. And it became just that, so comforting in fact, you found that you were drifting away from consciousness.

This was it.

And that was it.

Hotch practically dove out of the car as Derek pulled up, running out and getting right into the lake. He knew you couldn't swim. Everything he did, went against everything he was told to do. Don't rush into things, make sure the coast is clear, all of that was not to be ignored, but given the circumstances, Hotch wasn't much caring about what the law said. Yes, he was an FBI agent, but he was your father first.

Dear God, he hoped he still was your father.

The team watched from the shore as Hotch disappeared under the water, all of their hearts practically beating out of their chests. You were the first BAU Baby, the female embodiment of your father, something that Hotch would endlessly brag to Haley about when she’d visit the BAU with you. You’d always listen to Reid list of facts that there was no way a child your age could understand, Penelope would always be aware of your presence before hand and have a plushie ready for you so she could keep her coined title of being your favourite. They'd watched you grow up to the 16 year old they knew and loved, and they were praying that the last time they saw you, wasn't the last that they saw you alive.

"I called an ambulance just as we left, it should be here soon," Spencer said, still keeping his eyes on where Hotch had disappeared. It was a tense atmosphere, and with every passing second, the outcome of the situation became more and more bleak. After what felt like hours, Hotch resurfaced with you, unconscious in his arms.

“Oh my God,” JJ whispered, looking around at the team to see their reactions. Everyone was simply in shock. Hotch waded through the water, placing you on the ground and kneeling beside you. The whole team rushed to your side, Reid at your neck to feel for a pulse.

His stomach dropped when he felt nothing.

“Damn it, Y/N, wake up,” Hotch said, starting compressions on your chest. JJ was holding your hand, Derek was waiting on the ambulance. They’d completely forgotten about the UnSub, they were hoping that you could make it out of this alive to tell them about your captor. You had to make it out of this, you’d lost too much in the past years, surely you’d be allowed to not lose your life too? Your dad switched to mouth to mouth, but nothing appeared to be working. “Come on, honey, don’t leave me.” Hotch was desperate, his voice breaking as he spoke. Everyone was starting to feel sick, it was like watching Hotch grieve over Haley all over again, just 10x worse this time around.

You were still a child.

Throughout everything your dad tried, you remained completely unresponsive. Hotch knew that you were gone, but he didn’t want to think about it.

“Hotch,” He looked up at his colleagues, who were all looking at him with sympathy. None of them wanted to say anything, it would make everything real, make it hurt ten times worse. To Hotch, it felt like being dragged kicking and screaming into a nightmare, as he sat there, his oldest daughters body in his arms. Up until now, he had praying that he wouldn’t be planning another funeral, no, not for you. He didn’t want to be thinking about what he would be saying to everyone coming to the aforementioned funeral, about how he would have to use the past tense while speaking about you.

Hotch finally broke down.

JJ, Spencer and Derek left Hotch for a bit, this wasn’t exactly their time to be grieving. They hadn’t just lost their child, killed by their worst fear. To make things worse?

The ambulances arrived.

No one could say that they were particularly surprised when the unit chief stepped back for a bit. They all understood, how could they not? They didn’t even want to think about how Hotch was feeling, how he was dealing with the silence that now on,y came with a one child household. Everyone had went to your funeral, it was the first time anyone had seen Hotch since that day. Everyone had taken turns at going to check on him, and right now it was Emily and Derek’s turn.

“Hey,” Emily said, smiling sympathetically at Hotch as the front door opened. Hotch smiled back, both Emily and Derek knew that it was a fake smile, but the gesture was appreciated. “How are things?” She asked him.

“Alright, I guess,” Hotch answered vaguely. “Me and Jack cleared out some stuff from her room, he took her record player and all of her vinyls, he’d been begging for them for years,” He said, a real, genuine smile coming to his face.

“That’s good, man,” Derek said. “Is there anything you wanna talk about?” Derek asked. Hotch shook his head. It still hurt to talk about you, it was still too deep of a wound to mention. The thought he found himself mulling over often was what did he say if people asked him about his kids? He would surely have to mention you, right?

The only thing he could conjure up was; “I lost my daughter, but I have a son.”

He lost his daughter.

It hurt.

It really fucking hurt.

Later that night, Hotch had left Jack alone downstairs for a few hours while he finished some stuff in your room. Once coming downstairs, he paused as he saw you on the screen of the TV. He recognised the video, it was your 5th birthday party, Jack being only a baby at the time. Jack was still young, but old enough the know what had had happened to his older sister.

“Hey, what’s this?” Hotch asked. Jack paused it and looked up at his dad, wiping the tears away from his eyes. Hotch had noticed that Jack hadn’t cried yet, and he knew that different people grieved differently. He knew from experience.

“I found it, it had her name on it and I just wanted to see her again,” Jack said, trying his hardest to keep back the sob that was aching to escape. Hotch sensed this was coming, he knew his son.

“It’s alright to cry, Jack, she is-was your sister, you’re allowed to be upset,” Hotch said, the correction hurting more than the previous ones did. Jack shook his head, and the dam broke, he burst into tears. Hotch put his arm around Jack, pulling him close as he finally broke down. “I know it hurts.” He assured him.

“I just miss her,” Jack whispered, wiping his eyes.

“I know, I miss her too.”

—

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