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samuel-de-champagne-problems · 3 years

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Honest and Truly

Summary: Spencer has his prom 10 years late, but none of that matters when it's with the girl of his dreams.

Word Count: 4.8 k

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female (She/Her)-- Fluff

CW: Minimal vulgar language (PG-13)

Author's Note: This just might be my most favorite thing I've written in a very long time :) Also listen to the song I linked, it makes the title and the ending make more sense! thank you to @spookydrreid and @writhingintheroses for helping me a particular scene!!

Add yourself to my taglist! It makes it much easier for me :)

Honest and Truly

“A prom?” Spencer asks, realizing that the conversation had entered uncharted territory, a territory in which he had not a single clue how to navigate. Spencer, being a preteen in high school, never attended prom.

“Yes, Reid. A prom,” Penelope says, staring at him over the many monitors and stuffed cats that littered her desk, “It’s going to be so much fun!” she says, excitedly.

“That sounds like, uh, I’ll have plans that night,” Spencer tells Penelope, spinning around in the swivel chair as he eats his turkey and cheese sandwich. He usually enjoys their lunches together, but when Penelope gets an idea in her head, there’s no stopping her.

@s“Now I don’t believe that for a second, Reid. The only time that you have plans is when you’re with Y/N. And Y/N is going to be at this prom,” Garcia says, her pink glasses sliding down her nose. She winks at Reid, almost like she enjoys watching him squirm.

“How do you know that she’s going? Did she say she’s going?” Spencer asks, unable to conceal his eagerness that Y/N could be attending. Spencer might hate dancing and those fancy shoes that are too tight on his toes, but all that can be talked away if Y/N is there.

“Yes, she’s going because you’re asking her. That and I’m making everyone go,” Penelope says matter of factly.

Spencer opens his mouth, attempting to talk away Penelope’s suggestion. But Spencer Reid is a smart man and he knows better than trying to argue his way out with Penelope. Especially when it comes to Y/N. He might have an excellent poker face, but Spencer can’t hide his love for Y/N.

“I’m not going to ask her. You know she’ll think it’s because-” Spencer says, prepping for a long winded rant before the door of Penelope’s office swings open.

Y/N, with two coffees in hand, floats into the room like she’s walking on air. Or maybe it’s Spencer’s mind that’s floating when Y/N walks in. He can never tell. Whenever he’s near her, it’s like everything is sweeter, lighter and airier. Wordlessly, she passes the coffee to Spencer. Feeling her fingertips graze his reminds him of how pathetic he must be. He nods, telling her thanks, knowing that he’s unable to fully articulate just how grateful he is for the littlest things.

“Who are you not going to ask and to where, Spence?” Y/N says, leaning against the filing cabinets and sipping her coffee. Penelope, never one to be quiet, silently watches as Spencer and Y/N converse. Spencer looks up at her, feeling that light and airy feeling again. He brushes his hair that falls against his forehead nervously thinking of an answer.

“I- uh, I was thinking of asking my mother to come stay with me for a couple of weeks. You know, she hasn’t seen DC in a couple of years. And I do have some personal days banked,” Spencer says, telling Y/N a small white lie.

“She’s in Vegas, right?” Y/N asks, interested in what Spencer is saying, which is something that he’s still not used to. Spencer nods, smiling awkwardly.

“Yeah, she says that she likes the heat,” Spencer says, hating how formal and cold the conversation sounds. It’s normally flowing with easy and familiarity, but something is wedged between them. Penelope, long forgotten by the pair, types rapidly on her keyboard.

“You know, Spence. If you’re up for it maybe we can have lunch or meet at Elmwood Park. I’d love to meet the woman that made my favorite person,” she says, staring directly into Spencer’s eyes. Her stare is so intense that it’s like she’s looking into his soul. He thinks that if she looks deep enough she’ll see her own reflection because his soul belongs to her.

“I-I uh,” Spencer says, immediately thinking that he should actually invite his mother out for a visit, “I think that’s a good idea. She likes the sites and all,” he tells her nervously, trying to ease his beating heart.

He’s her favorite person.

Out of all the people in this city, this world. He’s her favorite person. Spencer, a lover of math, is tempted to figure out the odds of being his favorite person’s favorite person. He knows it’s slim. He knows it’s rare. It’s something magical and Spencer is terrified he’s going to ruin it. He’s terrified he’s going to fuck something up that’s not even his.

“It’s a date,” Y/N says, turning to Penelope, who’s still long forgotten, “Oh, Penny, you need to yell at Morgan for me. He ate my leftovers,” she tells Penelope, who feigns horror, “And now I don’t have lunch”

“How dare he!” Penelope says, her exaggerated response inciting chuckles, “he can get away with murder because he’s pretty,” she says, shaking her head.

He knows that she’s pretending to be disappointed, but he still doesn’t like to see it. Spencer unwraps the other half of his turkey and cheese sandwich and hands it to Y/N. She looks surprised, as if Spencer just handed her a million bucks.

“Spence, you don’t have to,” Y/N says, softly, handing back the half of the sandwich, “It’s your sandwich, I don’t want you to feel-”

“Eat it, Y/N,” Spencer says firmly, looking straight at Y/N, “You need to eat something. We both live off coffee as it is,” he says, hoping that Y/N will take the sandwich.

He’s looking straight at her and she’s looking straight at him. Spencer wonders if he looks deep enough he’ll reach her soul. He dares to think that if he can find her soul, he’ll stare at his face. He’s her favorite person after all, that’s got to count for something.

“Thanks, Spence,” Y/N says, smiling softly, “You make the best sandwiches,” she tells him, taking a bite of the sandwich as Garcia’s eyes flit from Spencer to Y/N. Back and forth, she watches the pair engage in the world’s best miscommunication.

“Y/N, did you hear? I’m throwing a prom!” Garcia says excitedly, hoping that Y/N’s reaction will be more enthusiastic than Spencer’s.

“A prom?” Y/N asks, unconvincingly, “God, I hated my prom. I got punched spilled all over my dress and my date tried to sneak alcohol into the banquet hall. It was a shitshow,” Y/N says, remembering the less than happy memories from high school.

“I didn’t go to prom. You know, between being a 12 year old and a dork,” Spencer says, self deprecatingly, “It’s not the ideal scenario, but I am familiar with the cultural significance of proms in American high school,” Spencer says, speaking to no one in particular, yet looking at Y/N directly.

“Maybe we’ll both get the prom night we deserve, Spence,” Y/N offers, tossing out her wax paper wrapper. She walks past him and it’s like the air is sweeter. He believes in science, but loves magic. Y/N is magic.

“Maybe,” Spencer says, refusing to make eye contact with Penelope, “you know, sorry to uh, cut this short. I have some paperwork to finish. Hotch’s been on me all day about it. So, uh, see you later,” he says, walking out of Penelope's office like a bat out of hell.

He tries to ignore the knowing stares from Penelope and Y/N’s confusion as he ducks out and walks into the bullpen. Spencer doesn’t have paperwork. He finished all his paperwork by 11:12 am. But what Spencer does have is a flight from Vegas to Quantico to book.

And prom shopping.

___

As it turns out, Spencer doesn’t know much about teenage American culture. Sure he’s seen 90s movies that Y/N forced him to watch. But it was quite difficult to pay attention when all he could feel was Y/N’s fingers brushing up against his in their shared bucket of popcorn or her head laying against his shoulder when she got tired.

He doesn’t know much of anything when it comes to romance. But he knows that he loves Y/N— and hopefully that’s enough. He still hasn’t asked her if she’d go with him. Honestly, he’s not too sure why he even has to ask her in the first place. She’s going to be there already, but Garcia and Morgan convinced him that it’s part of the so-called “Prom Experience”

“Spence,” Y/N says, she’s perched on the tall bar stool and rests her elbows on her kitchen island, “did you find a suit yet? I was thinking that we can go to that vintage store on Rock Ave. They have a surprisingly good size selection, and I think that this whole vintage thing fits your aesthetic really well,”

“My aesthetic?” Spencer questions, again lost at sea.

“You know, you’re like nerdy chic. Equal parts dorky and equal parts handsome,” she tells him. He feels his cheeks burn at her words.

Handsome

“I don’t know if that’s a compliment or not,” Spencer says, eyeing Y/N over the rim of his hot coffee.

“It is,” Y/N says like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Like him being handsome is just as obvious as him being dorky, “And get your wallet. We’re going to the vintage store,”

Spencer has a hate-love relationship with weekends. He loves spending time with Y/N where it was so easy to pretend that she loves him as he loves her. He hates the weekends for the same reason he loves them. Spencer knows that it’s all fake. It’s a façade of the truth.

“Spence! You’d look great in this,” Y/N suggests, holding up a gray sports coat, “I think it will match your eyes perfectly,”

“If you think so, Y/N,” Spencer says, nodding his head in agreement. She continues eyeing him as if she’s imagining what he’d look like in the jacket. He has to admit, it’s a very nice jacket.

“Come on, Spence. There’s a mirror over in the corner. Try it on for me,” she requests and not even a second later Spencer finds himself being dragged by the hand to try on the suit jacket.

Y/N holds the jacket open for him as he slips it on through his arms. He’s surprised to realize that it fits perfectly. He looks into the mirror, staring at his face and Y/N, who tugs and smooths the jacket. Spencer can’t look too much longer because if he does the lines between reality and fantasy will be difficult to distinguish. As much as he wants to stare into the mirror all day long, pretending that this is real, he much rather it actually be real. But wishing and dreaming only ends up with battle wounds and broken hearts.

“You look very handsome, Spencer. Very handsome,” Y/N says, staring into the mirror too now. But she’s not looking at the jacket, she’s looking at him. The beat of silence lasts longer than what’s comfortable, “Um, I think, I saw some pants that would look good on you, with this jacket, I mean,” she says, stumbling over her words. She’s not looking in the mirror any more, her gaze is noticeably away from Spencer and the mirror.

“Okay, uh, whatever you think, Y/N,” Spencer says, “I’m not even sure why I agreed to this thing. I don’t dance,” he says, regretting his choice to go to Penelope’s prom, but feeling guilty for maybe disappointing Y/N all in one breath.

“Did you ask her yet?” Y/N asks, holding up a pair of similarly gray colored pants. She must notice his confusion, “You know Austin, the woman you heroically saved. Does any of it ring a bell, Spence?” Y/N teases. Spencer feels his cheeks burn and his heart tighten, that happens a lot around Y/N.

“Oh Austin, uh no. She wasn’t interested in me, after all,” Spencer says, shifting his weight and staring at his converse, “I mean, I should have seen it coming. It’s transference, that’s like Psych 101,” he says, feeling strange. It was odd when Austin broke up with him, even if you can consider it breaking up. He felt a strange sense of relief when it happened, like a weight was lifted off his shoulders.

Y/N clicks her tongue in annoyance as she walks over to Spencer. Tugging slightly on the sleeves of the jacket she says, “well she’s not as smart as I thought she was. You have to be a complete fool to let someone like you go,” she says quietly. She’s standing too close, looking too beautiful, and seeming too perfect for Spencer to not be completely enamoured.

Then it breaks, like shattered glass. The rosey glasses are lifted, leaving only cheeks that sting with nervousness and hearts the yearn for something a little more tangible.

“Stop staring at me and go try it on,” Y/N says, handing him the pair of pants, “Oh and I’m going to look for a vest and a tie to match. This store is unbelievable,” she tells him, pushing him into the makeshift dressing room.

Spencer puts on the pants, which fit, despite being maybe an inch or two loose in the waist. He looks into the tall mirror, which is noticeably empty without Y/N standing with him. A floating hand, belonging to Y/N appears. She holds a burgundy tie and a dark brown vest, both of which are very Spencer. He smiles slightly, strangely happy that Y/N has picked something out that’s perfect for him.

“Tell me when you’re decent,” she says, her voice muffled by the curtain that separates them. He sticks his head out of the curtain, his eyes immediately finding Y/N’s.

“Ohh, Spence, you look amazing. Very handsome,” she says, her hands clasped around the tie, tugging just like she did with his suit jacket before, “What do you think?” she asks, looking at him curiously.

“It’s nice,” Spencer offers, approaching this like he does everything: cautiously, “I do like the texture,” he says, running his hands up and down the sleeves of the jacket.

“You look more than nice, Spence. I know I’ve said it like 30 times, but you look very handsome,” she says. Spencer hopes that she means it. He needs something to be real. Sometimes besides what he feels, because what he feels is the realest thing in the world.

“It’s nice to hear,” Spencer says, “you know from someone who’s not my mother,” he jokes, shrugging off the jacket and grabbing the hanger from Y/N.

“You deserve to hear it,” Y/N says so softly Spencer wonders if she’s saying it all. That beat of silence, followed by the awkwardness is back.

“So, uh, I saw a dress that I’m going to try on,” Y/N tells him, her gaze shifting everywhere but Spencer’s eyes.

“I’ll go pay for this,” Spencer says, walking back into the dressing room and the mirror that lies to his face.

___

Back in Y/N’s car, Spencer shifts in the passenger seat trying to find a way to sit comfortably while holding his suit jacket, pants and vest. Y/N hangs up her dress, that’s wrapped in a gown bag. She wouldn’t let Spencer see the dress, despite her practically picking out his entire outfit.

“So what’s next,” Spencer asks, as Y/N gets into the car. She smiles over at him sheepishly, leading Spencer to think she’s got another trick up her sleeve.

“I’ve got a confession, Spence. And please don’t hate me for it,” Y/N says, her voice coming out a little nervous as she eyes Spencer.

“I don’t think I could ever hate you, even if I tried. And I’m certain I’ll never have to,” he says softly, resting his hand over hers on the console. He rubs the back of her hand gently, thinking about just how easy things are with her. If he could only be a little braver, maybe then the mirror wouldn’t be so empty.

“Okay. I knew that things didn’t work out with you and Austin. I overheard you telling Derek,” Y/N confesses, “And I know that it makes me a horrible friend or whatever, but I’m sorry that I eavesdropped,”

“Oh, uh how much did you hear?” Spencer asks, suddenly quite nervous. He can feel his heart drop, waiting for the moment when Y/N laughs at the thought of her loving him. He knows that it’s not fair to her, but then again all is fair is love and war.

“Enough to know that you’re still hung up or or someone else. I left once my conscience got the better of me. Once a Girl Scout, always a Girl Scout,” she says, making the three finger salute that’s common in scouting, “I just wanted to hear it from you, you know you’re my favorite person and all,” she says, a frown forming.

“I think, uh,” Spencer says, “That I was just a little embarrassed. You know how Derek and Penelope and Emily and JJ can get. It’s basically just you and Hotch who aren’t jumping down my throat about being, you know, alone,” he says, chuckling awkwardly.

“They just want to help you, Spence. In their own ways, but I’m always on Team Spencer. You never got to worry about that,” Y/N offers, squeezing his hand.

He considers what she says, not responding verbally, but nodding his head. He hasn’t ever had someone on his “team”, so it’s strange. But a good kind of strange.

“Spence, you okay? I wanted to give you something. To be truthful, I’ve been thinking about how I was going to do this for awhile,”

“Ask me what?” he questions, wondering what she has in store. He watches as Y/N rummages in his bag, clearly looking for something. He’s thoroughly confused when she pulls out a TI-84.

“What on earth?” Spencer says, as she places the calculator in his hands. Her sly grin, beaming up at him only further proves his point: his heart just beats faster around her.

“Just shut and press the on button. You’d think that a genius would know how to work a calculator,” she comments, rolling her eyes playfully.

“You know, I never used these. I can just do it in my head faster,” Spencer says, winking at Y/N when she pushes him teasingly.

“God, Spencer just turn it on!” she demands, very apparently getting more and more impatient.

He turns the calculator on and is brought to a green screen that has a picture of a graph. Spencer raises his eyebrow, as if to ask Y/N for the next direction.

“Press the graph button,” she says, getting quieter as Spencer looks at her.

He presses the button that she said to, waiting for whatever is supposed to happen. Spencer watches as the screen draws four black lines running parallel to each other. A curved line is drawn on the first two black lines, forming the letters “P” and “R”. The screen continues to draw, making an oval that looks like an “O” and the last two parallel lines are joined together with a “v” shape, forming the letter “M”. He takes a second glance, reading the 4 letter word slowly.

P-R-O-M

“Well?” she asks, waiting for his answer.

He’s speechless. Spencer blinks. It’s like his brain has stopped working. It’s a prom, a stupid prom that’s 10 years too late. But it’s the girl of dreams that’s asking him. And that’s the stuff those rom-coms he couldn’t pay attention to are made of.

“I mean, of course. Of course, Y/N,” Spencer says, dropping the calculator into the cup holder and leaning in to hug Y/N.

His heart stops again. Falling into that tricky habit of either speeding up or stopping when she’s around. He thinks he’s ready to implode when she pecks his cheek. Her lips don’t linger, hardly touching his skin for it to be considered a kiss.

“I don’t think I’d want to go with anyone else,” she says, mumbling into his skin. She seals his fate with her lips against his skin. Never again will Spencer imagine what it’s like to have her lips against his skin. Even though it’s a fraction of the time he’d want, it’s tattooed in his mind.

“I’m not much of a dancer, by the way,” Spencer says, reluctantly letting go and sitting back into the passenger’s seat, “so don’t expect too much,” he jokes.

“Oh you better watch it, Doctor Reid. I’m getting you on the dance floor, even if you hate it,” Y/N says, smiling as she backs out of the parking spot and turns into the street.

Spencer looks out the window, thinking to himself that there’s probably nothing he can hate if he’s doing it with Y/N.

Spencer didn’t go to prom in high school. He didn’t do a lot of the traditional things that most former high schoolers reminisce about at his age. He didn’t go to football games or have a best friend to make lifelong memories with.

He didn’t have any of that, until now.

But it’s prom night, 10 years late. His hands are sweaty and his mouth feels dry. Spencer wasn’t this nervous for even his first day at the BAU all those years ago. He tries to fix the burgundy tie that Y/N picked out at the vintage store. It looks crooked and twisted. Nothing like when Y/N tied perfectly in the store for him. He supposes that he can wait till she comes to pick him up.

The mirror, again, is noticeably empty without Y/N standing beside him. He can get lost in there, thinking about her standing with him. He does, because it feels like seconds later when he hears a rapid knocking on his apartment door.

Standing on the other side of the door is Y/N. She wears a sage green dress that looks like it’s made of softest silk. He smiles at her, not sure if he can trust his words. Spencer doesn’t think he’ll be able to do much thinking when all he can focus on is the tiny straps that rest on her shoulders or how the sage green compliments her skin tone.

“You look, god. You’re beautiful,” Spencer says, partly under his breath partly aloud to Y/N, “so beautiful,” he says again, focusing on her eyes.

“And you’re looking very dashing in that suit, Spence,” she says, pushing her way in, “do you need help with your tie?” she asks, looking at the tie he holds in his hand.

“Yes, please,” he says sheepishly. He holds out the burgundy colored tie, but takes his hand back as an idea crosses his mind, “oh wait here, I’ll be right back,” Spencer says, walking quickly to his bedroom.

“Alright,” Y/N says sceptically, “Don’t ditch me, Reid!” she calls out from the living room.

Spencer returns, hiding the new tie behind his back. He places an olive green tie with dusty blue and pink flowers in her hands. He notices her smile grow, realizing that he’s picking a new tie for a reason.

“I might not know much about prom, but I think that we’re supposed to match. You know, since we’re going together,” he offers, “but I need help putting it on,” he says.

“We’re going to match!” Y/N says excitedly. As she unbuttons the first button on Spencer’s cream colored shirt he holds his breath. He can’t breathe when she’s this close. Her fingers are quick and nimble as they feed the tie around his neck and elegantly create a knot. If Spencer wasn’t already in love, he knows that watching her eyes twinkle and her tongue poke out as she concentrates would make him declare it then and there.

“So handsome,” she says, using that quiet voice that makes it seem like she’s talking to herself rather than him, “I can’t wait to dance with you,” she tells him tugging the tie.

“I’m not going to be good, Y/N. I’m going to be a fool,” Spencer says, lamenting already about what an idiot he’s going to look like in front of Y/N.

“That’s nonsense, Spence,” Y/N says, waving him away with a toss of her hand, “You’re going to be the best dancer there,” she tells him rubbing her hand up and down his arm, like she did at the store.

“Would you believe it, if I told you I never danced with anyone?” Spencer says, being the most honest and true he’s ever been.

“We can change that,” Y/N says, stepping towards Spencer and linking her hand in his. She squeezes, restarting and stopping his heart all in one go, “oh wait we need music,” she says, feeling around for where her phone usually is.

“I got it,” Spencer says, stepping away from Y/N. He walks over to the small record player in the corner of his living room. He doesn’t play it too often, the records he has were once his mother’s and they’re too painful to play most days. But Spencer’s sure that he can make every exception to all his rules for Y/N. Maybe he’ll get some happy memories out of it.

“Going old school I see,” Y/N says, teasingly as Spencer walks over grabbing both his hands in hers, “everything about you is very charming, Doctor Reid,” she says, softly swaying to the jazzy tunes of Sarah Vaughan.

“I’m not too sure about that,” Spencer says, following Y/N’s lead as she floats around his living room, carrying him everywhere she goes. She rests her head against his chest and Spencer swears that she’s going to get a concussion from how hard his heart beats.

They’re alone, no audience to witness the moment that Spencer wonders if he can dare to call intimate. It’s intimate to him because every moment with Y/N is intimate. Maybe if someone had told Spencer that dancing like this could bring pure paradise all the way from your fingertips to your eyelashes, maybe he would have done it sooner.

“You’re quite the romantic, Spencer,” Y/N says as the song comes to a close. The record player stops, but they don’t stop swaying, “And you told me you couldn’t dance,” she scoffs lightly, with her head still resting against his chest.

“Is that okay with you?” He asks, “me being romantic,”

“I don’t think that I’d want it any other way, Spencer,” Y/N says, removing her head from his chest and her hand from his. She cups his face, touching him lightly. Y/N holds him like he aches to be held. It’s gentle and tender, yet leaves him desiring more.

“Honest?” Spencer asks, daring to be brave.

“Truly,” she responds.

Spencer shifted slightly, so he can also hold her face in his hands. Y/N drops her hands though, wrapping them around Spencer’s waist to pull them closer together. Spencer’s phantom fingers are like that dance around that dance around Y/N’s skin.

It’s Y/N that initiates the kiss. She moves in slowly and tenuously, looking just as nervous as Spencer is. He’s shaky slightly, the anticipation getting to his head when all he can see is Y/N’s eyes looking into his and all he can think about is how soft her skin is. It’s all he’s ever wanted to think about. Her lips are soft and pillowy.

But it’s more than that.

Kissing her is everything to Spencer. It’s the breathy sighs she lets out as he moves his hands and rests them securely behind her neck. It’s the peachy scent of her perfume that’s so sweet and strong it should be overwhelming when all it is, is intoxicating. Kissing her is dizzying and terrifying, but wonderful and sweet. He can’t tell where his lips start and where her’s end, but it doesn’t matter.

He doesn’t open his eyes because he knows he’s facing the mirror. But unlike before, he doesn’t need a mirror to know what he’s looking at. He can look into his soul for that.

“Very romantic,” Y/N says, smiling through the quick kisses she plants on his jawline, “I always thought you’d be a romantic,” he tells him.

Spencer brushes his thumb over Y/N’s bottom lip. It’s puffy and bitten from his kisses, but he thinks that it would be a shame to not bite and kiss it some more. He smiles so hard he knows that he’ll wake up in the morning and his mouth will hurt. But that’s the least of his worries if Y/N’s there to kiss it better.

“Honest?” Spencer says, calling back to the song, that’s now their song.

“Truly,”

---

TAGLIST (ADD YOURSELF HERE)

@shemarmooresfedora @willowrose99 @calm-and-doctor @spideygenius @measure-in-pain @nomajdetective @spencerreid9 @saspencereid @laurakirsten0502 @winifrede @muffin-cup @idonotexiste @pastelbabygirl19 @strawberryspence @g0lden-cth @spookydrreid

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader fluff #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds fics #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader happy ending #spencer reid x reader one shot #spencer reid deserved a happy ending #criminal minds fanfiction

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reidsnose · 3 years

Text

completely and utterly, wholeheartedly and hopelessly (spencer reid x reader)

overview: spencer helps his best friend talk through her emotions

genre: angst? and fluff

warnings: mentions of cheating, bad coping mechanisms, idrk what else reader being upset for a little bit

a/n: this has been sitting in my notes app FOREVER but idk how i feel ab this one im usually strictly fluff so yall lmk :)

masterlist

you hated talking about your feelings. you knew it was unhealthy to keep it bottled and and 'deal with it on your own' but that didn't stop you from doing exactly that.

the worst part about your feelings right now was that you isolate to cope with them. you didn't want to interact with anyone at all because more likely than not you would lash out at them on accident. it just slips out sometimes.

when you trudged into the bullpen with your head down and your hands fidgeting with your zipper, you didn't even notice all eyes on you. you werent your usual happy self. you weren't being loud, you weren't cracking jokes. you were just begrudgingly existing amongst your favorite people and they knew there was something wrong.

"good morning gorgeous, its a paperwork day! that means no traveling!" garcia informed you brightly, trying to lighten my mood.

"oh. cool. thanks." you answered back, flashing her as much of a smile as you could muster after realizing the harshness of your words.

she shot morgan a look, to which he raised an eyebrow.

"hey pretty lady," he began as he walked over to you, "whats going on? did you drink some grumpy juice for breakfast?"

"no. im fine." you replied flatly, making your way to your desk.

"what in the world.." he whispered to garcia, not knowing you could still hear.

or maybe he did know. maybe he was trying to get on your nerves. no. this is the irritability talking. morgan was just being a good friend.

you groaned at your computer, retyping the same password for the 4th time.

this time Prentiss shot you a look.

"is everything ok?" she asked, smiling slightly.

"yeah my computer is being stupid." you rolled your eyes as it finally let you in.

"oh i know the feeling. if you need any help-"

"I'm alright. thanks." you cut her off, eyes glued to the file you were working on.

JJ, who had witnessed the whole interaction unfold, stood with her mouth agape.

"spence, your bestie needs you!" JJ tapped his shoulder and motioned to you.

he watched your jaw rhythmically clench and unclench. your tell. thats what you always did when you were irritated or angry.

"hey y/n," he hummed, sitting lightly on the corner of your desk, crinkling some of your paper work.

"Reid! my files!" you cried, swatting his thigh. he got up and murmured an apology.

"are you ok?" he asked simply, crouching down to meet your height as you sat in your chair.

"why does everyone keep asking me that!"

you knew why. you were being a bitch.

"you just called me Reid." he stated.

"its your name." you replied, not meeting his gaze.

"yeah but you always-" he began.

"I'm not in the mood right now."

he sighed, "if you need someone to talk to-"

"i don't need anyone to talk to because theres nothing to talk about!" you interrupted, causing him to furrow his eyebrows at the tone of my voice.

'i shouldn't be mean to him. why am i acting like this?' you thought to yourself

"ok, ill be over there if you need me," he threw his hands up in surrender.

you mumbled an ok and went back to distracting yourself with work. you were so invested in filing these cases you completely lost track of time and before you knew it, it was just you, Hotch, and Spencer left in the office. you vaguely remembered waving goodbye to your other coworkers but you didn't remember it being nearly 6pm.

"guys go home, you've done a lot today," Hotch said as he crossed the bullpen, making his way towards the glass doors.

"yeah i will i'm almost done," you answered, not looking up from my screen.

"good night, Hotch," Spencer called from the break room.

you stared at your screen, eyes burning. you did enough. you cant escape confronting your feelings much longer. you sighed as you began packing up.

as if on cue, Spencer walked out of the break room with two cups in his hands, steam rising from the both of them. your mood softened just a bit.

"here," he handed you your drink which he had filled with your favorite tea and sweetened just the way you like it.

"you didnt have to." you replied, setting down the warm cup as you finished packing up. he mirrored your movements, resting his satchel across his torso before picking his drink back up.

"i know." he answered simply, a gentle smiling resting on his lips before he took a sip of his own tea.

"im sorry for snapping at you earlier." you apologized, finally meeting his gaze. his eyes were soft and sweet and you felt a pang of guilt in your heart as they looked into your own.

"its ok. do you want to tell me why?" he asked, walking to the elevator with you.

"no. yes? i dont know. its stupid." you replied, looking down at the floor as you recounted your reason for my anger today.

"its not stupid." he spoke softly.

you scoffed lightly, "you dont even know what it is."

"so tell me."

"but its dumb!"

"y/n." he warned.

"my ex boyfriend, Ashton, is getting married to the girl he cheated on me with." you sighed, walking through the parking lot with Spencer.

"ah so Trashton put my favorite ray of sunshine in a bad mood." he joked, breath swirling around the cool air as he spoke

you let out a weary chuckle, "its not like i miss him or anything, i just wish i had someone! not him- i just- i want- ugh i don't know how to word this!" you grew frustrated, furrowing your eyebrows and balling your hands into fists.

you knew exactly how to word it.

you wanted Spencer.

"its ok, take all the time you need." he whispered, leaning on the hood of your car. you joined him, resting as you took a sip of your tea.

"why am i not good enough to be loved." you stated the question rather than asking it, eyes filling with tears.

"you are good enough and i promise you that you are loved more than you know." he affirmed gently, turning to face you.

"do you know why we broke up?" you asked, knowing if you acknowledged his previous comment you wouldn't be able to continue without sobbing.

"because he cheated on you." he answered confidently.

"no." you shook your head, fighting back tears.

"what? he didn't cheat on you?"

"he did. and i was going to forgive him for that."

Spencer started getting riled up, "what! why? you're worth more than that scumbag! you shouldn't ha-"

"Spencer just let me finish!" you cut him off. he went silent, chest rising and falling more rhythmically than it had seconds earlier. "he wanted me to chose. him or you."

"him or me?" he furrowed his eyebrows, voice much quieter now.

"mhm." you hummed not meeting his gaze, your cheeks redder than you'd like to admit.

"i don't understand." he breathed.

"he thought i was cheating on him with you. he had no proof and it w-"

"oh this is all my fault. y/n i'm so sorry!"

"no! spence its not your fault!" you grabbed his arm to reassure him.

"it is! your boyfriend broke up with you because of me! and now you're sad and lonely and its all my fault!" he cried, looking worriedly into your eyes.

"first of all, i broke it off with him, he just gave the ultimatum. secondly, you did me a favor."

"how?"

"by showing me who i was really dating. a cheating, insecure scumbag who was quick to replace me when i left."

"i guess thats true."

"and id pick you over him any day." you admitted, looking back down at the ground. he nudged your shoulder playfully and you cracked a sad smile

"im sorry i made you sad and lonely."

"you didnt. id be sad and lonely anyway."

"why? you would still have a boyfriend if it wasn't for me."

"i don't want a boyfriend if it isn't you."

shit. shit.

the words toppled out of your mouth before you could stop them.

"what?" he asked, wide eyes and looking a little shocked. spencer was sure in that very moment that if he heard you correctly hed simply explode.

"i- no this was a bad idea. i just ruined everything didnt i!" you were speaking more to yourself, exasperated at your own stupidity.

"no," you felt him place a finger to your chin and lift your gaze to meet his, "im glad you said it because now i can admit it."

"admit what?"

"that im completely and utterly, wholeheartedly and hopelessly in love with you."

"spencer dont play with my heart like this. are you being serious?"

"yes. i am." he said with a strange confidence than you had never heard before. hesitant but sure.

"oh thats so lucky because i am completely and utterly, wholeheartedly and hopelessly in love with you too." you admitted, feeling about 100 pounds lighter, like you could fly. he pulled you into a bone crushing hug which you eagerly accepted. "i should talk about my feelings more often."

he chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to the crown of your head, "yes you should."

world littlest taglist:

@mac99martin

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laurensprentiss · 3 years

Text

Jouska [Hotch x Reader]

Chapter 19:

A/N: Here it is besties, v sorry for this but I live to cause chaos!! They both have some growing and living to do over the next chapters which will span around ten years. Stick around it’s gonna be interesting! Also Hotch looks rlly good here hehe

Warnings: None, really. Swearing, mentions of pregnancy, heavy angst.

———

“I'm scared I'm going to spend the rest of my life in a state of yearning, regardless of where I am.” - Melina Marchetta

———

08:00

It happens slowly then all at once. He knows he feels lighter, physically, before he’s fully conscious - can’t feel the warm weight of you on top of him. He frowns as he slowly awakens fully, feeling for your body next to him.

When all he feels are sheets, he comes to, a little quicker, opening one eye to look around. When he doesn’t see you, he figures you left to go to the bathroom but a piece of paper on your pillow catches his eye.

He frowns as he sits up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes when the doorbell begins to ring incessantly. He looks between the door, the paper and then the door again, tucking the note underneath his pillow to come back to later. He takes a cursory look at the clock -

08:00

He runs downstairs with a grin, thinking maybe you went out to grab coffee and forgot you didn’t have a key, but when he opens the door, icy shock runs through his veins.

“Hi, Aaron.”

“Haley?” He replies stunned. He glances behind him, increasingly alarmed now as to your whereabouts.

She averts her gaze from Hotch’s half naked form, it’s nothing she hasn't seen before but there’s a barrier between them now. Even with what she’s about to tell him.

“Can we talk?”

“-This…. isn’t really a good time.” He replies, glancing behind him again. He uses his body to block what lies behind him, clothing littering the floor as evidence of last night. His cheeks run hot when he realises Haley already spotted it all.

“We need to talk. I wouldn’t have shown up like this, but she told me to come by at 8. Said I should talk to you.”

He frowns. “Who?” He asks, despite hazarding a very good guess he already knows the answer.

“Look, can I just come in? I'm really cold and this is incredibly awkward.”

He sighs, “Yeah- yeah come in.” He steps aside to let her in, picks his shirt up off the floor and begins to button it as he invites her to sit.

Haley tells him that she managed to track you down outside your apartment yesterday. His jaw ticks and he runs his thumb over his bottom lip, agitated. “Why would you do that?”

“I figured I owed her an apology. Ultimately I was the one who put her in danger with-” She licks her lips. “With him. I thought we should talk.”

“So you resorted to stalking?” He paces. He can’t figure out why you’d ask her to come by now, especially if you were going to spend the night last night.

“I know, I’m sorry.” She looks sick. “I kind of knew that you felt something for her, and I figured she probably did too. Clearly I was right.”

“I’m not doing this with you.”

She throws her hands up. “No! No, that's not what I meant. I need to tell you something but before I did, I needed to tell her, I owed her some courtesy after everything at least.”

He tilts his head and his eyes narrow. “Get to the point.”

She pulls out an envelope and slides it across the coffee table. She breathes shakily, nodding at it. “It’s all in there.”

He watches her quizzically, confused at her demeanour - she’s never been one to be at a loss for words. He takes a seat opposite, studying her as he peels open the envelope.

A sliver of cold panic works its way through his veins as he scans the page.

LABCORP DNA TESTING SERVICES

Sample 1 - BROOKS/HOTCHNER : Positive Match

Sample 2 - BROOKS/HOTCHNER : Positive Match

“What the hell is this?” He asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

She swallows thickly, abetting her gaze. “It’s a paternity test. I’m pregnant.” She tells him quietly.

His chest tightens and his head starts swimming. “What? I don’t believe you.”

“It’s right there on the paper. It’s yours.” She looks like she’s holding back vomit, the colour on her face drained. She studies Aaron for any kind of a reaction but he still looks confused.

“I want another one.” He tells her waving the paper. “How far along are you?”

“3 and a half months.”

“Wait,” He winces as the cold realisation hits him. “You told her?”

She nods.

The colour drains from his face and he shoots up from his seat, remembering everything he’d told you yesterday about how he would do things differently if he ever became a father. Knowing now what you knew then, he can’t begin to fathom what must have been going through your mind yesterday.

He shoots up the stairs three at a time, hoping he’s not too late.

———

06:00

Your eyes burn with the lack of sleep and the aftermath of your breakdown. You lay still against Aaron’s chest, your hand splayed flat against his skin. You’ve been watching him sleep for most of the night, memorising all you can about him, and imagining an alternate future where you could’ve ended up together.

But it doesn’t help. All it goes is drive a stake deeper into your heart because no matter how much you imagine, it doesn’t change your future. The sun begins to rise sure enough, a promise of another day but the lighter it gets, the more your stomach turns and the tighter your chest gets.

You pull Aaron in closer one more time, fusing your body to his and you close your eyes. His hands run down your bag gently as he stirs in his sleep. You take a minute to take him in one last time, despite your aching heart you try to hold onto the happiness you’d felt before it all came crashing down.

You doubt you’ll feel for anyone the way you feel for him. But you can’t be selfish, not now. You whisper to him, barely audible, the words you need to get off your chest and with a gentle kiss to his sleeping face, you slink out of his arms.

You gather your clothes, and from the credenza drawer downstairs, grab a pen and paper.

‘Dearest Aaron…’

Tears stain your face as you initial the bottom of the letter and with a final breath, you fold it and scrawl his initials on top. You reluctantly walk back upstairs and when you see Aaron’s peaceful face in a deep sleep, it takes everything in you to walk away. You place the note on your pillow, and turn away before you change your mind.

But as you approach the door, you turn to take one last look at him, willing your memory to hold on to this image, to the feel of him. To what it feels like to be loved by him.

“Goodbye Aaron.” You whisper.

———

08:30hrs:

He struggles to get his pants on, throwing on odd socks and grabbing the note on the pillow which he stuffs haphazardly into his three day old jacket. He runs down the stairs three at a time, passing Haley on the way as he grabs his keys.

She looks at him with panic and confusion. “Go back to the hotel, I’ll call you!” He tells her. She looks around, stunned as the door slams shut behind him.

He fumbles with his phone, dialling your number, but it goes straight to voicemail. He tries Emily but it goes to voicemail too. He dials the direct line to your assistant and on the last ring, she picks up.

“Agent Hotchner?”

“Leah?”

“Yeah? Is everything okay?”

He desperately asks if she has any idea of where you are today, if you have anything on your docket.

“Not that I can see, no. Is everything okay?”

“Look, can you find out if she’s home and call me?” He hangs up and purposely turns on the sirens to weave through traffic to your place. In a cruel twist of fate, he curses the numerous traffic logs he encounters on his way, thinking he’ll deal with the fallout of using his lights without reason later.

He finally turns onto your street, tires screeching as he pulls up behind a blacked out towncar, into which an older gentleman appears to be hauling suitcases. He doesn’t bother closing the door as he exits his SUV, his eyes trailing on the suitcases being piled into the trunk of the towncar when he hears your voice.

He stops in his tracks.

“Alright, James. I think that’s the last of the b-”

The air leaves your lungs when you catch sight of him. There’s a brief moment when you think you think you’re imagining him but your chest squeezes when you look at his face, halfway between confused, devastated and just plain betrayed.

He utters your name with a shaky whisper. “What is this? What’s going on?” He asks unsteady, already knowing the answer.

You hand your bags to James who ducks between you to receive them, the tension thick and heavy. “I’m sorry, I planned on…” You struggle for the words. “Being done earlier than this. This is what I wanted to avoid.”

He retreats, eyebrows shooting up. “This, what? You wanted to avoid saying goodbye to me? You couldn’t even extend me the grace of telling me you were leaving?” He pulls out your note from his pocket, shaking it in front of you. “You left this and thought it would be enough? After everything that happened with us.”

“Come on, Aaron. You know that’s not what I meant. But you know why I’m leaving, it’s why you’re here. And I knew you would do this, I knew you’d try and talk me out of going. That’s why I didn’t tell you.” You swallow the lump in your throat.

The desperation inside him starts to claw at him. “You don’t have to leave. We’re adults, we can figure this out.” He takes both of your hands tightly in his.

You shake your head. “I won’t put you in that position, I know how important this is to you. I won’t put myself in that position either.” He opens his mouth to oppose you but he knows as well as you do that this is the end. “I can’t believe I’m going to say this but this was easier when I had a stalker, all I had to worry about was making it through the day without being murdered. But things are real now, you have a career and a family to worry about, I have to go to college. I guess we just didn’t think this through.”

He retreats slightly, a hurt expression on his face. “That doesn’t mean it was wrong.” He says, quietly. “I told you I’d wanted to be with you for a long time, and I meant it. I don’t regret any of it.”

You cup his cheek. “Neither do I. But we both know what needs to happen. I can’t stay.”

He caresses your hand on his cheek with bereft eyes. “You changed me, you know?”

You laugh dryly. “With your gig at the BAU? Forget it, you’ll be saving people left and right.”

“You know that’s not what I meant.” His voice cracks. “I’m just sorry we couldn’t have more time. I think this could have been something.”

“Did you read the note?” He shakes his head. “Wait until I’m gone to read it - you don’t have to. But if you ever find yourself doubting or second-guessing who you were to me - who you are to me? You should read that. It has everything you’ll need to know.”

He brings his forehead to yours, glassy eyes watching you with so much affection you think you might just break. “Can we stay here? Just for a minute? I’m not ready to let you go yet.” He asks.

You nod and loop your arms around his neck, tiptoeing to reach his height. He hugs you back with ferocity, face burying in the crook of your neck as he takes you in, memorises the way you body slots against his, how you smell and feel. He presses his eyes shut, willing his brain to commit every last feeling to memory, terrified that there may come a day when he no longer remembers how he loves you.

You muffle your sobs as best as you can, clutching at the material of his shirt, and the small tufts of hair at the nape of his neck. Try as you might, when you close your eyes, all you can see is a reel of your relationship with Aaron, spanning from the moment you met to now.

All of it comes rushing back: the gazebo, your apartment, numerous late night coffees and dinners, his face in the cabin, the hospital and of course, the nights and days you spent in bed. The pond, the balcony, the laughter. The love. You feel a hole consuming your chest and you struggle to breathe, cursing yourself for falling in love with the one man you couldn’t possibly ever have.

James beeps from inside the towncar, and you reluctantly loosen your grip on Aaron, sniffling as you let him go. It feels infinitely harder to detangle yourself from him now, like tearing a bandage off of a raw wound, but you know you need to go.

And so does he.

His eyes are watery when you look at him, yours mirroring his heartbreak. “I guess this is it.” He rasps.

You clear your throat. “Yeah. I guess so.”

“Can I kiss you goodbye?”

You nod solemnly. His hands cup your cheeks lovingly, wiping away a stray tear. He leans in, and presses his lips to yours for the last time. He takes his time, allowing himself to linger in the moment, and convey everything he can in this kiss without having to say it. Wants to remember how soft your lips are and the way you taste.

Your tears fall steadily now, your own hands tangling in his hair. You selfishly wish you could stay here, throw away any and all integrity just to keep him for yourself. But you both have things to do, futures to live.

You break the kiss, forehead resting against his. His hand cradles the back of your head, and he presses a tender kiss to your forehead, lips lingering before he finally lets go.

You fish in your pocket and take his hand in yours, dropping your key into his palm. He looks at you quizzically. “Keep it, give it to the super, I don’t mind. But lock up for me?” You ask him.

He nods, closing his hand around yours, a desperate attempt to keep you close for a few more fleeting moments. He presses a desperate kiss laced with finality on your lips as you release yourself from his embrace.

Watching you reach for the car door sends him into a tailspin. You’re just about in the car when you hear him call your name. His voice is strained. “Listen, I just- before you go. There’s something I need to tell you.” His face is contorted with desperation and his voice laced with something utterly heartbroken.

You know where he’s going with this. You weren’t sure if he felt it until now, horrible fucking timing, but it’s still something.

“Don’t. I know what you’re going to say, Aaron. Please don’t.” You sob. “This is already one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do, please don’t make it harder. I know what you’re going to say. But before you do… just please don’t?” You plead.

He swallows thickly, choking back tears, too. “I do, though.”

You breathe through the hole in your chest. “I know, Aaron. I do, too.” Your smile is bitter as you open the car door and step inside gingerly, keeping your eyes on the sidewalk where he stands. He walks over to you, tangles your fingers with his briefly before cradling your chin, wiping another stray tear.

“Maybe in another life?” He whispers.

“Maybe in another life.” You tell him with a sad smile.

“Goodbye, sweetheart.”

I love you.

“Goodbye, Aaron.”

I love you.

He watches the car peel away longingly, muttering aloud the words that he’d whispered two nights ago when he thought you were asleep.

“I love you.”

———

09:15

Your car pulls up to the airstrip forty-five minutes later and you can hear the deafening engine of the plane before you even step out of the car. You place a $50 in the hand of the man who opens your door for you, throwing a quick thank you his way as you obscure your puffy eyes with a pair of sunglasses.

You offer the men loading your luggage a small smile and hand them their tips, before boarding the plane. You spot Emily on the far left side of the plane, her face buried in a copy of Mother Night.

When she sees you, she shoots up from her seat, throwing her book onto the table in front of her. “Oh my God! You came! Hi!” Her good arm wraps around your neck for a hug and you stiffen against her. “What made you change your mind?” She asks.

You close your mouth just as soon as you open it when the curtain dividers open.

“Darling!” Ambassador Prentiss emerges from her office, behind a divider on the plane. She has a phone receiver against her chest, you assume to muffle her voice to whoever is on the other end. “Emmy and I are so glad you decided to join us, we’ll be taking off in around 15 minutes.” She tells you, glancing at her watch.

You shoot her a polite smile and thank her, and she looks between you and Emily, excusing herself back to her office.

“I’ll let you girls catch up.”

Emily leads you to the seat opposite her, her face now showing signs of concern. She watches your face for an answer but when nothing comes, she asks outright.

“What happened? I thought you were going to stick around and see what happens? You had a date right? Her words scratch your skin.

“Date’s off.” You swallow.

Her eyes widen. “What? Why?!”

“His ex is pregnant and it’s his.” You reply nonchalantly, rapidly blinking back tears behind your sunglasses.

Her mouth drops open. “Holy shit! Are you okay?”

“I’ll be fine.” You reply, gazing out of the window.

Emily watches you in shock, unsure of what to say. She can tell by your demeanour that you’re in shock but she can’t do anything except hold your hand and tell you she’s sorry with a quiet voice.

“Yeah.” You sigh.

———

09:00

When he keys open your apartment door, he’s hit with an eerie silence, a heart wrenching emptiness. He attempts to turn a lamp on but the electricity has been turned off, leaving the living room cold and dark.

His mind fills in the spaces between the emptiness, picturing you sitting on your couch, or on the bar stools around your island. Can hear the incessantly loud TV, and your laughter from your room.

Your room is just as empty too, a few stray clothes hangers remain in the wardrobes and when he turns to look out at your balcony, he swears he sees your shadow outside. He makes sure the doors and windows are secure and makes his way back to your living room, the entire experience harrowing, like walking through a graveyard of memories.

His legs give out as he walks back to the living room, sinking onto the couch. A picture of you catches his eye on the side table next to him, the same one he’d caressed gently when you’d been taken by Jordan. He’d thought then, that was the worst moment of his life, had he known what was to come, he’d have reserved his judgement.

He swallows the lump in his throat as he gently brushes a finger over the glass, unable to keep the tears from coming now. He wishes with everything you could have stayed, can feel it deep within him that you’ll keep a part of his heart for years to come. Then he remembers the note.

He opens the folded paper with trembling hands.

‘Dearest Aaron,

I sit in your living room right now, struggling for the words to write but I can’t seem to come up with anything that truly encapsulates how I feel. How I’m incredibly sorry to have to leave like this, how I wish with everything in me that I didn’t have to, I wish this could have ended differently.

I want to say thank you. You may not know or understand this, but for all the good and bad, you truly changed my life. I met you during the darkest and scariest part of my life, when I had nobody - when I was all alone. And in you came like a light and protected me fiercely, taught me everything I needed to save my life. You did that.

You saved me.

You changed me.

Despite the circumstances, we did have something, a friendship, maybe the start of something more - something real. Don’t ever doubt that. The last two days were two of the best of my life, a fitting reward, I thought, after everything I’d been through. But I couldn’t let you talk me into staying, because I know you, and you would have tried, told me that we could’ve worked something out - and it would’ve been selfish of me to stay.

I want you to know that I am so incredibly happy for you. This wasn't an easy decision, but I’m leaving of my own choice. I have no doubt in my mind that you’ll be an amazing father. That child will be loved and oh so lucky to have you and your warmth as a father. I know how much this means to you, how important it is for you to give your child a better life than the one you and Sean had.

And you will.

Thank you for everything you did for me, thank you for saving me over and over again. Thank you for teaching me to be brave, and for coming into my life. My hope for you is that you’ll build a wonderful life with your beautiful little family and achieve everything you’ve ever wanted and more.

You’ll change the world one day.

Know that I will always have a special place for you in my heart.

I’ll never forget you.

All my love.’

He swallows the burning in his chest. Two days were all he had with you and he stupidly saw himself able to imagine a future with you, could imagine loving you for the rest of his life - but then he’d been in love with you long before you’d asked him to stay.

He winces as something digs into his chest and he reaches for his inside jacket pocket until something cold makes contact with his fingers.

His heart stops, molten lava running through his veins.

Your necklace.

He grips it until the sharp edges of the pendant feel like they’re about to puncture his skin.

Maybe he wasn’t destined for peace, for love. The love that he wanted. Maybe a happy ending wasn’t written for him and he’d have to make peace with that. At least he had the memory of your face burnt into his brain, the smell of your hair, the sound of your laughter.

That finite part of you would get him through eternity.

———

20:00

You’ve rejected every meal you’ve been offered by the staff aboard the plane, instead choosing to down Emily’s bottle of red wine. It eases the heaviness in your head, that’s true but the ache in your chest still remains.

Emily’s since drifted off to sleep, her book laying open against her stomach, meal half-eaten. You stare at the blinking lights of the plane and the clouds below you until everything starts to blur.

You love him. He loves you. That much is true. You never had believed in the concept of the right person but the wrong time, how could you? If the person was right, the timing would surely be inconsequential.

That was until you met Aaron.

In this life, in the grey harsh reality, after everything you had been through with him, the simple fact that two people love one another pales in comparison to the bloody reality of commitments, matters of the mind and sacrifice.

He loves you and you love him. It just isn’t enough.

He aches for you and you ache for him. But it’s still just out of reach.

Your hearts aren’t your own anymore. But you have to go on anyway.

———

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eldrai · 3 years

Text

Pretty Boy

Whumptober 2021 - day 5 - prompt: misunderstanding

Characters: Reid & Morgan

Warnings: implied/referenced ableism, implied/referenced homophobia, past bullying, light implied CSA [none of it from them]

Words: 995

Summary: He's a nice kid. So Derek isn't sure why Reid is avoiding him.

masterlist / ao3

Spencer Reid has the awkwardness of a baby deer just learning how to use its legs, and a similar physique. He’s also got more PhDs at his age than most people have in a lifetime, and Gideon chose him specifically for the unit. And he’s got an interesting choice in sweaters – Derek admires it, honestly, because it takes skill to wear something some of those patterns and not look awful – and some really obscure facts memorised.

He’s a nice kid.

Derek isn’t sure why Reid is avoiding him.

It starts off subtle: he’ll place himself next to JJ or Elle or Hotch when they’re in the jet, in what Derek brushes off as just how the chips fall until he realises every time Reid’s next to him, he’s not in the mood to talk. Even if he’d been in the middle of an explanation minutes ago. He’d never notice the pattern if he wasn’t looking for it.

The kid rambles to him on cases, if they end up sent somewhere together, but Derek has to prompt him to get him to share his ideas. And they are good ideas – Reid takes to profiling well. Sure, he’s a little awkward about talking to people but Derek can’t fault him for that.

Whenever he nudges the conversation into something even vaguely personal, Reid deflects – Derek doesn’t push but again, he’s overheard him talking to some of the others and it’s more curiosity than anything else.

(It stings. Just a little. It’s one thing to not be friends, another to avoid him.)

It’s tempting to out and ask Reid if he’s done something, said something wrong. But Derek knows it’d do nothing but force him to clam up: he’d get that deer-in-the-headlights look in his eyes even if he masks his facial expressions better, and then they’ll be further than ever from… hell, even acquaintances.

Friends, Derek supposes. Because he’d like to be friends, doesn’t see why they can’t be, and might have ruined his chances accidentally.

Fortunately, he doesn’t have to start that conversation.

“If you’re trying to make a joke, I don’t get it,” Reid says. “You’d be better off trying it on someone else.”

“Joke about what?” Derek asks. He goes back through the last couple of minutes, through details about the case, and comes up blank on what Reid is referring to.

Reid gives him an unimpressed look.

“No, seriously,” Derek says. “I don’t—”

“People always assume I don’t knowI’m unusual,” Reid says, rapid-fire. “I know I’m younger than they expect and I know infodumping is annoying and I know I don’t act as ‘masculine’ as is typically expected. You don’t have to remind me.”

…right.

Yeah, he’s definitely screwed up somewhere.

“I’m sorry for anything I said,” Derek says, “but I honestly don’t know what it was.”

Reid meets his eyes for a moment then looks away. “People do that a lot, too. I’m not sure if you’re joking or not.”

“I’m not,” Derek promises. “I really don’t know.”

This time Reid studies him more intently and he realises how irritated Reid is, his fidgeting more frequent and his eyebrows drawn closer together. Whatever it is, he wants to apologise for it.

“‘Pretty boy’?” Reid says, exasperated.

Oh.

Oh, shit.

“Crap, I didn’t know it made you uncomfortable,” Derek says. There’s a stone right in the pit of his stomach because oh god, this is bad. He knows how awful it feels and he hadn’t even asked, hadn’t stopped to think and of course Reid wouldn’t have corrected him, Reid, the newest member of the team, the youngest, the most inexperienced. “Reid, I’m sorry. I should’ve—”

“Isn’t that the point?” Reid says. “To make me uncomfortable.”

“No,” Derek says immediately. He feels sick. “That’s not what I meant, I’m sorry.”

Reid blinks. “What did you mean?”

“I didn’t really. It didn’t mean anything, it was just a nickname. I should’ve checked.”

“A good nickname?”

“It was meant to be,” Derek says. “That’s my fault, not yours.”

“Oh,” Reid says. “I thought it was meant as an insult.”

He swallows and fuck, he’s really done it, hasn’t he? Reid has every right to avoid him. “It wasn’t. I never asked you if you were okay with it, so I never told you it wasn’t. God, Reid, I really am sorry. I won’t call you it.”

“It isn’t inherently negative,” Reid says. “I… assumed it was. Other people have made similar jokes and did mean it.”

“You don’t have to explain,” Derek says.

“No, I want to,” he says. “You’ve been in high school, you know what it’s like for the queer kids.”

Right.

That just adds a whole new layer of awful.

He’s surprised Reid would want to be in the same room as him.

“Yeah,” he admits.

“When they said ‘pretty boy’ it wasn’t because they liked me.”

“I’m sorry,” Derek says. And it’s so laughably inadequate but what else is there to say?

“I am,” Reid says. “Queer. Bisexual, specifically. Just in case that matters.”

“No, no, that’s cool,” he says. Given the situation, he can’t really blame Reid for checking but it hurts all the same. How easy it would have been to just goddamn ask. “I didn’t mean to imply—”

“You didn’t know about me,” Reid says, “and I didn’t know how you meant it. I don’t think it’s either of our faults.”

Derek would have to disagree there, on account of it being definitely his fault. “I won’t call you it again.”

Reid pauses. “Actually… I don’t think I mind when it’s not them.”

“Reid.”

“What?”

“Don’t say that if you don’t mean it, I’m not gonna be mad at you for having boundaries.”

“I do mean it,” Reid says. “I’m not mad either.”

Derek breathes. Long and slow, and the tension in his chest unclenches a little. “Okay, kid, but if I ever make you feel uncomfortable—”

“I will,” Reid promises. “I—kid?”

---

A/N: I hope this doesn't come off as bashing because it absolutely isn't. I love Morgan and I love Reid and this was just a result of the prompt + me thinking about their childhoods. On a lighter note, the most unrealistic part of the show was actually Spencer Reid, an autistic bisexual, ever sitting on a chair correctly. I speak from experience.

#whumptober 2021 #no.5 #misunderstanding #criminal minds #fanfic #eldrai does whumptober #cm fanfic #morgan #reid

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alltooreid · 3 years

Text

All Too Well

Spencer must go to him and Y/N’s once shared apartment to clean out his things and leave her life forever. While there he can’t help but look back on his actions, the ones that made him lose the love of his life forever

A/N: Hi!! This is my first fanfic ever published on here and I’m excited to share it with you all! It’s inspired by one of my favorite Taylor Swift songs All Too Well, but although I utilized some of the lyrical genius and imagery from it, the story is not the same as the story in the song. This is a very angsty fic, and there is not a happy ending. Although there are some cute fluffy elements, including a Reid’s purple scarf origin story, I would in no way call this happy. Additionally, because of a reason you may later realize, the content warnings are very vague. If anything even slightly mentioned in them may affect you, I advise you to maybe stay clear. On a lighter note, if anyone wants to request anything, whether it’s another song inspired fic or a general plot line you would like to see please do so!! Also sorry this is kinda short, I’m still learning but I’m really proud of this one :))

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem Reader

Type: Very Angsty, Not a Happy Ending, (Y/N and Spencer do not end up together)

Word Count: 2.4k

Content Warnings(try to ignore if you would prefer to stay surprised): slight cursing, discussions of death and gore, discussion of car crash

Things to Know: Italics and bold are flashback moments :) let me know what you think!

“But you keep my old scarf from that very first week 'Cause it reminds you of innocence And it smells like me You can't get rid of it 'Cause you remember it all too well”

Spencer was packing up his things, finally getting the chance to clear out and move from the apartment he and Y/N once shared. Their relationship was rocky and unconventional but he loved her all the same. Even though he left her broken-hearted and destroyed his most cherished relationship. Even though Y/N’s parents now hated him because of what he did to her. Even though hope of repairing what they once had was long gone and there was nothing else he could do about it. Even though he had torn up the masterpiece they once had together. He still loved her so much.

But the magic was gone and so was she.

Now Spencer was left with memories, and since the apartment they lived in was hers instead of his, filed entirely under hers and her parents name. In his excessive knowledge and wisdom, Spencer Reid struggled to understand how the kitchen where Y/N told him she loved him for the first time as he lit the candle on the collapsing confetti cake he had attempted to bake for her birthday was in no way legally tied to him.

“Happy Birthday to you, happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to Y/N! Happy birthday to you!” Spencer sang as he lit the single pink birthday candle he found after rummaging through his desk drawers for longer than he cared to admit. He knew it was in there somewhere, but at the same time there was a whole lot in there.

As he looked at her face, eyes welling up with tears as she took in the sad, homemade excuse for a birthday party Spencer had thrown together after they got back from a case hours before, he couldn’t help but feel he should have done more. He wanted to take her to New York, where they would’ve enjoyed fine dining and one of those incredibly detailed floral frosting cakes he knew Y/N was infatuated with.

However, the case in Oregon ran long. They had only returned to their apartment 2 hours ago, hours past their 7pm dinner reservations. Although Y/N tried to hide her disappointment, you don’t need to be a profiler to know that someone wants to celebrate their own birthday. So although they had agreed to go to bed and play everything by ear tomorrow, the young genius had, what he would still argue to be, his most brilliant idea when he saw Y/N asleep once he got out of the shower.

It was still her birthday.

And Spencer had just under 2 hours to throw you a party.

So sure, Y/N deserved more than a cake that was definitely not cool enough to frost, but was frosted anyway due to time constraints. And she definitely deserved more than present hastily wrapped in his printed out articles and newspaper clippings. Spencer wished that he had time to go buy new candles, instead of lighting a green sparkly number 7 because it was all he could find.

But it was almost midnight, and that meant he only had 18 minutes before it wasn’t Y/N’s birthday anymore.

So instead of dwelling on it, he headed to their bedroom, shook her awake and watched her roll over to face him. He watched the smile overtake her face as she said the stupid party hat he was wearing, made out of a pom pom and a wedding invitation.

“Hey birthday girl,” he said softly, “you do realize you’re sleeping through your party right?”

She looked so happy that night, even as she saw the way too messy kitchen and her birthday cake that was melting by the second. She laughed as Spencer fumbled with the lighter.

And as he finished singing her eyes started releasing tears.

“I’m sorry sweetheart, I wish we could’ve done more for the first birthday we get to spend together. “

“No, no, no” she said as she wiped her tears away, “It’s not that at all.”

She smiled and looked up at him “I just love you so goddamn much Spencer.”

Although at one point, all Spencer knew was logic and logically Y/N had never ever known him when she filed her paperwork, the genius still struggled to grasp the concept. That even before the ending of it all, you had no legal, definite connection to her at all.

How was nothing about this place, his?

All that he knew was that he had today to pack all his shit and leave. All he knew is that Y/N’s father had made it very clear none of their family wanted to see him again.

He wished he could talk to Y/N about it. However all of his calls went to voicemail immediately.

Logically, Spencer knew why, he had completely fucked up.

But still, he called every single day, as there was nothing his heart wished for more than to speak to Y/N again. To apologize, to beg for forgiveness he knew he didn’t deserve.

As the cold air from the open windows blew into the apartment, Spencer couldn’t help but feel he was leaving his home behind. Everything left of her was going to be here, and he wouldn’t get to experience any part of the life you and him had once shared together anymore.

But then he saw it.

The royal purple scarf Y/N bought the day of their first date.

“You like this color right?” she asked as they stopped by a booth at the street festival she had taken him to. Spencer was too distracted as he watched the other couples on dates, as they walked hand and hand down the streets. He sometimes wished he could forget things like the number of germs and bacteria that lived on her hands. He at least wished he could forget long enough to gather enough courage to hold Y/N’s hand as they walked down the sidewalk.

“Hmm?” he said, looking back at her, then the scarf she was now wearing. “Oh, yeah! I love that color, it um- looks great on you.”

She smiled, then turned to the weird old guy running the stand. “How much for the scarf?” she asked.

He looked at her, then looked at Spencer, “depends which one of you is paying.”

Before Spencer could say anything, let alone pull out his wallet, Y/N already had hers out.

“Well, for a pretty lady like you, it’s 2 dollars,” the man said.

She handed him five and turned to Spencer. “You hear that? I’m so pretty I get 80% off! Wonder what you would’ve paid huh pretty boy? He would probably owe you money.” The man handed her her change and whispered something Spence couldn’t quite catch.

“Gross,” Y/N said as they exited the booth, “he wrote his number on my change.”

Spencer chuckled, “Did you really just buy that scarf because I like the color of it?”

She smiled, “Don’t get so cocky now Einstein, I like purple too you know? And maybe if you’re lucky I’ll let you borrow it.”

At that moment Spencer felt just okay enough to wrap his arm around Y/N’s, and she felt just right enough to wrap the new scarf around them both.

The one she left next to her front door, after making the last minute decision to leave it at home the night of their final outing.

No one would notice if he….. Right?

Sure maybe Y/N would but what would she do about it? Hunt him down just to get a scarf she paid less than five dollars for? Definitely not.

He wrapped it around his neck and closed his eyes, even days later he could perfectly picture Y/N singing in his car, fascinated by the autumn leaves falling around her. He felt the wind in his hair, but instead of the cold, dreary air from the open apartment window, he swore he could remember the warm air from that October night.

“Spencer I know you hate it but please, please, please. I’m so tired.”

“Sweetheart you’re not tired, you’re drunk. Of course I have to drive you home.”

“Oh, whatever.”

A phone call broke him away from his memories, it was Hotch. Spencer was angry, how effortlessly cruel of him to call him during such an emotional time. Hotch knew how much Spencer loved Y/N, the whole team did.

So he didn’t pick up.

Instead he walked over to the coffee table they used to put their feet on when they binged watched Doctor Who together. Letting the ringtone play out in the background, Spencer picked up an old photo album Y/N’s parents must have brought out. Of course he remembered it, it was the same one they flipped through when he met Y/N’s parents for the first time. He didn’t realize she had brought it home with her.

His eyes welled up with tears as he flipped through the old school pictures, remembering how embarrassed Y/N was of her big glasses. He saw her old athlete pictures from when she used to play tee ball, and flipped through more pictures until he reached the end of your softball career, in college.

He remembered how hard Y/N blushed when she showed him her childhood bedroom. Her twin sized bed was full of stuffed animals and her walls covered in boy band posters.

“You know what Spencer? I don’t want to hear it. I loved and still love the BackStreet Boys and I am not ashamed of that.”

He laughed, “You know, before we started dating I always thought you were so cool and unattainable. I imagined that you had always been this chic, beautifully brilliant badass. It’s oddly comforting to know that you wore tortoiseshell glasses and had a fruitless infatuation with Nick Carter.”

She gasped, before tossing her tabby cat stuffed toy at him, “You’re about to get it!”

Once again he was called out of the memory by his phone.

And once again he let it ring.

Spencer went into their shared bedroom, most of his things were already put into boxes for him. Honestly he was surprised that they hadn’t been set on fire or thrown away after what he did.

Soon it was time for him to take his things down to his car.

Except it wasn’t even his car. It was Morgan’s.

“Spencer, you are the most gorgeous man I have ever seen in my entire life. I am infatuated with you, I want us to spend the rest of our lives together.”

“You sure that isn’t the alcohol talking Y/N”

“Look at me Spencer, no, no really look at me.”

He couldn’t imagine ever using his old car again after what had happened in it.

“You are my future.”

Not that he could use it again.

“You are my everything.”

It was pretty much destroyed, after that accident on that little town street.

“I want nothing more in my life, than for you to be in it.”

When he was so enamored by Y/N, so in love that he couldn’t take his eyes off her, that he ran a red light.

And the truck waiting to go didn’t stop either.

“SPENCER! SPENCER CAN YOU HEAR ME? I NEED YOU TO CALL 911!” she screamed, her voice filled with agony, her limbs mangled in a sea of crushed mental and snapped backwards by the emergency airbag she didn’t realize she was resting her feet on.

Spencer had already called 911. That was the sickest thing about it. Spencer was, physically, perfectly fine. Spencer would get to leave the hospital after just a few days. Spencer could’ve probably gotten out of the car if he tried to. But he stayed, he stayed with Y/N, as she wasn’t fine. As Spencer looked down on her broken body, and tried desperately to find just one piece of skin that wasn’t coated in blood, her blood, that is when he realized. That not only could Y/N not walk out of the hospital with him, but she probably wouldn’t even make it there.

So he sobbed, he struggled to breathe, not because of the ways Y/N did, but because he had caused all the reasons she couldn’t.

“Hey, Spencer, look at me.”

So he did, and he reached for her hands and held them so tightly, and wanted one last time to feel her squeeze back. And she did, just ever so softly.

“Spencer, I meant everything I said to you. I want you to spend the rest of my life with me. Please.”

“I love you so much Y/N”

“I love you too.”

Spencer was drawn away from his memories once again as he got another phone call.

But it wasn’t Hotch this time. It was Mr. Y/L/N, so he answered it. He owed him that.

“Are you out of her house yet? You’ve had hours. I want you gone Spencer.”

Spencer sighed, “I’m leaving now sir, I’m just putting the last of my things in the trunk and then I’ll be gone.”

“Good, I never want to see you again Spencer, you hear me?” Mr. Y/L/N said. “And you better not have anything of hers either. All that stuff in your car better belong to you and you only. If Y/N paid for even a dime of it it better still be in that house.”

Spencer looked down at this scarf he was wearing, the one that still smelled like her perfume. The one that he couldn’t bring himself to take off because he reminded him of so much innocence and beauty.

“Yes sir, I didn’t take anything.”

“Good. And Spencer do me a favor.”

“Anything sir.”

“Go fuck yourself.” Mr. Y/L/N said, and then hung up. Spencer sighed, he expected that and fully deserved it.

How else should a father react when you kill his daughter?

“'Cause there we are again when I loved you so Back before you lost the one real thing you've ever known It was rare, I was there, I remember it all too well”

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid taylor swift #spencer reid angst #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds reid #reid x reader #reid fanfic

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electricsockhead · 3 years

Text

💓 jenelope headcanons 💓

side notes:

1 -> it’s established relationship cuz idk how to write f-t-l with them 😖😖😖

2 -> this is set in like seasons 1 & 2, so there’s no kids and jj is still media liaison

3 -> please come talk to me about them!! idc if you’re seeing this posts 6 months after I posted it or 12 years (if I’m still active) PLEASE COME TALK TO ME ABOUT THEM 🥺🥺🥺

4 -> Trigger Warnings:

brief mentions of SA! (talking about their job)

possible displays neurodivergent traits! (if you’re neurotypical, this trigger is not for you, it’s for those in ND community who get triggered by stimming and mentions of breakdowns. also, the only reason “possible” is added is because I’m not neurodivergent (nor a doctor) so I have no personal experience with with these, and I don’t know if they’re considered neurodivergent traits. if you’re neurodivergent im 100% willing to listen to your opinions and thoughts on this!!!)

jj loves falling asleep over penelope, and loves holding one of her hands and just fiddling with her fingers (interlacing them, kissing her knuckles, etc)

Penelope always played with jjs hair when they do that, and she loves trying to make a braid with just one hand. sometimes she tangles jjs hair a little and they laugh 🥰🥰

when JJ is having a bad day she sits cross-legged on one of Penelope’s desks and just fiddles with Penelope’s toys

occasionally throughout the day penelope will go over and just hold her waist and rest her head on one of JJ’s thighs and JJs hand automatically goes to her head and starts fiddling with her hair

On days where she can’t stay in Penelope’s office she takes one of the toys with her and is fiddling with it all days and doesn’t let go for too long

On those days when they get home they cuddle and sometimes if it was really bad jj will break down and cry into Penelope’s shoulder and Penelope just comforts her through it 🥺🥺🥺

sometimes she also gets really touch averted so they’ll just sit next to each other while jj sobs into her hands, and Penelope just sits with her so she doesn’t feel alone 🥺🥺

On game nights they always have so much fun and they rarely bicker over the color/object of the players because penny will always go for the smallest or pink one and jj will always go for the one with more texture or blue one (ex. on the life game, penny gets the pink car and jj gets the blue one, or monopoly, jj gets the Statue of Liberty because it has a lot of bumps and she runs her fingers through them all the time because it calms her down and helps her feel grounded, and penny gets the hat because it’s small and sometimes she likes to just run her fingers through the “hem” — they rarely ever leave their pieces on the board which causes them to forget where they were but it’s ok cuz they always have fun 🥰🥰)

On their days off, they like to go on picnics and jj takes care of the setting while Penelope takes care of the snacks

jj always picks somewhere with a body of water, usually a river but they live nearby a lake and sometimes they go there as well

she absolutely loves seeing the water just move on the river or just stare at the cute ducks on the lake

Penny always has cookies and extra money in her bag cuz she knows jjs gonna want to get ice cream

at dinner time, usually penny cooks, but jjs always with her, sitting on the counter and trying to help out (even tho penny said not to worry, and that she likes to do it by herself, and also to give jj a break from always working), and when she has nothing to do (or nothing in her hands to fiddle with) she’ll set the table extra nice with candles and wine

jj loves when they’re too lazy or too tired to cook anything so she just makes ham and cheese sandwiches for them and they sit on the couch and watch TV.

Penny loves putting on romantic dramas or romantic comedies while jj likes putting on western/action movies (it gives closure she never got as a kid 🥺💔)

One thing they can’t watch is horror because then the next day they can’t really do their job right because they just keep going back to the movie that depicts what they only see the aftermath of (like yeah they see the dead body and they’re informed of sa, but if a movie is graphic enough that it’ll depict it, then the next time they hear a victim was SAed they’ll be able to picture it and it just makes the job a lot harder to do 🥺💔)

On a lighter note, they have movie nights every Saturday and a lot of times they settle for Disney movies, and they’ve watched lady and the tramp so much that they know a lot of the dialogue

They also sometimes like to put it on mute and make up their own dialogue, and they always have so much fun with it

They have this little plush toy they keep in between them, so when one has a nightmare they can cuddle it while also cuddling each other (like if jj has a nightmare, she’ll get cuddles from penny, with the plushy in her own arms)

every morning they wake up half an hour earlier then they’re supposed to so that they can be lazy in bed and steal sleepy kisses and still get up in time and not be late for work

they never tried to hide their relationship from the team, but they weren’t necessarily public about it.

Hotch was the first to know, and he’s like “there’s fraternization rules against it, so no one on this team should be in a relationship” but then pulls them aside and he’s like, I don’t know nothing, I ain’t see nothing, but if hypocritically there was something, I’d be happy with it, BUT I DONT KNOW NOTHING (aka, he supports their relationship, but doesn’t want them to get in trouble 🥺🥰)

the next to find out is Morgan and he’s * o f f e n d e d * that his bbg never told him and she was like “you never asked 🤷” and he’s like “yeah, fair point” (obv. he also supports it)

When Elle finds out she’s like “hot.” And they both blush, but she’s supportive and it hurts them more then anyone else when she leaves because she’s the only other queer woman they’re close with, but then when Emily joins, she can smell the gays a mile away and it brings them a bit of comfort

When Spencer find out he’s also * o f f e n d e d * they didn’t tell him, but he gets super excited and buys them a bunch a Pride stuff for them because he knows they might not use it so he gets an excuse to have gay shit lying around his house (🚪🚪🚪)

Gideon never really payed attention to their “friendship” but when hotch offhandedly mentions it he acts like he already knew, and doesn’t make a big deal out of it (let’s be honest this man is an ally ☺️☺️)

as time progresses, they become more and more open about it, and occasionally will display copious amounts of PDA, and the team finds it absolutely adorable because they’re so happy for them 🥰🥰

the end ☺️✨

if y’all don’t mind, I’m tagging @geeky-son-dr-reid and @gleaminginthespotlight 🥺 ilysm

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your-eternal-muse · 4 years

Text

I’m Getting Colder

Heather Series Part 6 (Were halfway through it!)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Bonus! Readers Card Confession

Summery: Reader leaves the BAU for some personal time, and turns to her vices to deal with the voices in her head

Warnings: Description of someone falling into a deep depressive episode, self-deprecation, unhealthy coping mechanisms, description of emotional breakdown, reader is not in a good mental state so please be prepared for that before reading

Words: 1.8k (she smol)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Heather Charmical, Spencer Reid x eventual Female!Reader

A/N: So, this is not a light chapter. It’s not that long in my opinion, but it is very depressing. I do not recommend reading this if you are not in a well state of mind. Reader is very depressed, and she is falling deeper into that hole as we speak. I promise it does get better, but this chapter is just sad. I took from some personal thoughts and feelings I had when I was at a low point in my own life, which made it kind of difficult to make it any longer than I did, though I’m going to try and make the following chapters longer. I do recommend reading the bonus episode I posted, as it gives a lil insight to something said in this chapter. If you did not see, I sadly had to close both my permanent and my heather tag list, so if you are not already on there, and you want to be notified when I post a part, I suggest turning on my post notifications. Okay, that’s all. Love You!

~~~~~~~

“You really think he would love someone like You?”

“I will never love you.”

“Look at you. You’re disgusting.”

“I did love you. And then I met Heather and realized how much better she was.”

“Worthless.”

“Stupid Girl.”

“Useless.”

“UGLY!”

My eyes snap open.

My room is dark, and the sun is just barely rising over the horizon, the dim blue light leaking through my curtains.

The alarm on my phone goes off.

5:30 A.M. Meeting with Hotch at 8.

I slide my thumb across the dismiss button, and rub my face. All I want to do is go back to sleep, crawl deep under my covers and stay there until the end of time.

But I can’t.

My therapist's voice echoes through my mind.

“You’ve been through some emotional turmoil, y/n. It’s okay to take a break to get yourself better. But you need to talk to your unit chief in order for that to happen.”

So, that’s what I’m doing. I have a meeting with Hotch to discuss medical leave, where I’ll turn over my badge and gun and leave.

I sit up in bed, running a hand through my hair, trying to convince myself to get up.

Spencer comes home from his honeymoon today.

And if I haven’t been in the right head space when he hasn’t been here, then I’m definitely not okay to be shooting a gun when he is.

He called.

I didn’t answer.

He left a message.

I didn’t listen.

I don’t need to listen to him telling me that there's nothing we can do.

That it’s over.

That I have to move on.

No thanks.

I’m good.

I get up, and walk though my dark apartment, not bothering to turn on the lights as I go.

I strip in the pitch black bathroom, only lighting a candle so I don’t trip and break my neck.

The water is cold, and I let it run over my spine.

I leave once my teeth are chattering.

I get out and hastily dry off, before running a brush through my hair and cleaning my teeth.

I avoid my own eyes in the medicine cabinet mirror, but they slip back, and I don’t recognize the girl staring back at me.

I blink, pressing my palm to my eye, using my other hand to open the cabinet, turning the mirror away from me, so I don’t have to look anymore.

By the time I’m dressed and ready to leave, it’s 7:15.

I grab my purse, and my keys and head out of my apartment.

Once outside, I light up a cigarette, walking the short block to where I’m parked, climbing in and cranking the heat.

I used to stop and get a bagel and coffee from the bakery around the corner, but my appetite has left me.

My smoke will suffice for breakfast.

It’s a quiet ride to Quantico.

Mornings of listening to the radio, turning up my favorite songs have all but disappeared.

I pull my chin into my chest to keep the cold from biting my nose, as I walk up to the building.

The eyes of the security guards that I used to greet each morning follow me, as I keep my gaze glued to the floor.

The warmth of the elevator is no longer welcoming.

I’m the only one in the bullpen, as I walk past desks covered in files and papers.

I knock on Hotch’s door at 7:56.

“Come in.”

We’re the first ones here, and I know any moment, the others will trickle in, and their eyes will scan and find me standing before him, through his open blinds, where they will proceed to profile and figure out why I am acting the way I am.

I enter the office, and close the door behind me.

“You didn’t give a reason for this meeting, just stating that it was urgent that we met.” He sets his pen down, and gives me his full attention. “May I ask why?”

I rub my forehead, a headache already forming. “I didn’t know what to put for a reason. Every time I thought about what to write down, it seemed stupid.”

“Y/N, if something is bothering you, it’s never stupid.”

I nod, sniffling, taking my purse off my shoulder and pulling out the note from my therapist, handing it to him.

“I need at least two weeks of mental medical leave.”

He’s quiet as he reads through the letter, looking up at me every now and then.

I look out the window, and see all their heads turn to avoid eye contact, as if they weren’t just sitting and watching the whole exchange.

I bet they’re talking about it right now.

When he’s finished, he simply folds it and places it on his desk, waiting for me to speak.

I look down at my shoes.

I know he knows.

I'm pretty sure everyone knows now.

“I can’t be around him, Hotch.” My voice is no louder than a whisper, but I know he can hear me.

Jesus, I’m so sick of crying.

“Everything changed that night. I can’t even look at him without wanting to cry or…” I pinch the bridge of my nose again, harder, trying to distract myself from the pain.

“I can’t. At least not yet. Not now. And I’m not in the right state of mind to turn it off during the work day so we can work like a team.” I turn to look out the other window, so I don’t have to deal with the eyes.

“I just need some time to work through it. And I don’t want to put the team at risk during that time.” I shove my hands in my pocket, and bite my lip.

He nods.

“I understand. I hope you know your job will be waiting for you when you’re ready.”

I nod, breathing in to keep the tears at bay. “I know.”

“Good. I need your badge and gun please.”

That’s when the tears start falling.

I love this Job.

I love these people.

And here I am, abandoning them all because I can’t get over myself.

Yeah because you’re weak. Letting a boy take over your life. How Pathetic.

I untie my jacket, removing my badge from the inner pocket, placing it before him on the desk. I then remove my gun from the holster from my hip, making sure the safety is on, before setting that by my badge.

He stands, as I make my way for the door, moving out of the eyesight of the others.

“Y/N,”

I stop and turn, only to be met with his arms wrapping around me.

I fall into the embrace, so uncommon for Hotch, but oh so needed at this moment.

Hotch is a father through and through, and right now, a father’s embrace is what I need.

“I’m always here if you need to talk. No matter what time. I’m here for you.”

I squeeze my arms around him, taking in his scent before backing away. “I know. Thank you, Hotch.”

He nods, smiling softly, before stepping back as I open the door, and walk out into the bullpen.

The team stands, unashamedly staring at me as I walk down past them.

Now including Spencer.

I hastily wipe my cheeks, and shove my hands back into my pockets, beginning to walk past them.

“Baby girl,”

“Don’t, Derek.” I spit. If he hadn’t been a dick….If i had just watched where I was going.

Spencer is closest to the door, and I turn my head away from him, not wanting to engage in anything with him.

He reaches out and grabs me by the crook of my elbow.

“Reid.” Hotch says, but Spencer’s eyes are burning into the side of my face.

“You asked me to come and catch you.” His voice is soft, and once again, I wish someone would scream at me.

I swallow hard, and pull away from him, stepping back, retreating as far into myself as possible.

“I’m not yours to catch anymore.”

I place a hand over my mouth and practically run out of the glass doors.

I don’t stop running until I get to my car, where I collapse into the cold, and sob against the steering wheel.

“Come and catch me?”

“You asked me to come and catch you.”

He knows he’s killing me.

He has to,

He can’t say shit like that and not know.

My phone lights up with his name, and I slide my thumb across decline, before starting my car and pulling out of the parking lot.

The minutes blur by as I make my way home, just wanting to collapse into bed, and sleep away my problems.

My apartment is lighter now, but it’s still relatively dark. Light seeps through my curtains, but it doesn’t reach far.

I kick off my boots, and take off my jacket, tossing it across the counter.

A full length mirror hangs from my corridor wall, watching me. Taunting me.

“He’s just trying to talk to you.”

I pinch my eyes close. This isn’t happening. Not again.

“But you’re too selfish to accept him as anything other than a friend.”

The voice talking is high-pitched, and stings like a bell.

Heather.

“Seriously? You think he would ever want someone like you? When he could have someone like me? You’re pathetic.”

I turn to the mirror, where she stands staring back at me in the reflection.

“Shut up.”

“You are so stupid. No one wants you. No one will ever want you. The team will be so much better off without you.”

“Shut up!” My teeth grit, and I know I’m talking to a figment of my imagination, but I don’t care.

I can’t care.

“You’re so useless. You’re so stupid. You’re so pathetic. Do you know you’re the last thing on his mind? Especially when he’s deep within me, and I’m making him feel so good.”

“I said shut up!”

I grab a stray book laying open on my counter, and throw it at the mirror, watching it shatter upon impact, the pieces looking like snow on my floor.

I bawl into my hands, leaning over my counter.

Who have I become?

I pull myself together long enough to grab the bottle of whiskey sitting open by my sink, taking a long drink from it.

With it still clutched in hand, I shuffle over to my couch which is pushed up against my windows.

I lean over the back of it, opening the one above it, the cool air freezing the tears on my face.

I set the bottle down and pick up a stray smoke, lighting up and leaning back, exhaling the smoke up into the air and out the window.

My cell vibrates in my pocket, and I pull it out, seeing Spencer’s face pop up yet again.

In the photo, he’s smiling, birthday cake on his face. I hit decline.

Another swig, another hit.

My brain is becoming fuzzy.

A text comes through from Derek.

I swipe the notification away.

I lie down on my couch, holding a pillow close to my body, my cigarette hanging from my fingers, the bottle down on the floor next to me.

Another text.

I turn my phone off.

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#spencer reid #spencer reid angst #spencer reid series #spencer reid x female!reader #dr spencer reid #dr. spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds self insert #arron hotchner #song fic #heather #conan gray

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dumpsiteforfics · 3 years

Text

Las Vegas, Baby!

Rating: PG-13 for this chapter.

Genre: Fluff, romance

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Spencer Reid

Warnings: slight mention of rape and murder! Only once, no graphical description!

Summary: This is from my Model au! This is two part story. Wait for part 2. ☺️ It's just something fluffy and cute. Just a reason to write these two together!

If you have a background idea about this au, you might be aware that I have used Spencer as model instead of Lila archer and Aaron is the agent who is gone on Spencer! Team comprised of Gideon, rossi, Hotch, Morgan and Garcia at that time!

You can check all my model au musings for more information -> 1 , 2 , 3 , 4 , 5 . Please ignore the typos and grammatical mistakes, English is difficult lmao!! Hope you enjoy! ❤️

"Okay everyone, we have a few hours till we reach Vegas, so get some shut eye if you need because we will start working until we find this unsub once we touch down!" Aaron ordered the team. Everyone agreed quickly as Aaron stood up to take his corner seat where he could spread out the files again. As he started looking into the files, making notes of some of the points they had already discussed, the team including Garcia who was still on the video call were talking quietly about lighter things before parting.

"So chocolate thunder, I hope you won't have too much fun without me over there. I'm so jealous that you are in Vegas after so long and I'm not even there!"

Morgan chuckled at Garcia's frustration, "I know baby girl! It's not everyday that we get a case in a city like Vegas! When was the last time we came for a case? Do you remember?" He mused out loud.

Rossi who was just listening to their talk quietly answered, "I think it was when we were helping with that stalker case of that gorgeous kid! What was his name again, Aaron?"

Morgan bit his lips to stop a chuckle passing through as they all watched minute change in their boss's posture. His back stiffened lightly and he frowned deeply before shooting a glare to Rossi as he replied, "Spencer Reid I believe."

Before Rossi could ask something more, Garcia gushed, "Oh God yes!! How did I forget!!! He was so gorgeous and sexy and he was such a cute little rabbit!! I wish I could have had a chance to meet him, you guys were so lucky to have met him!"

Emily and JJ were the only ones at this point who seemed to be out of loop and after watching Garcia's reaction they couldn't ignore asking anymore.

"Okay, holdup Penelope, what's going on? " It was Emily who finally asked her.

"Ohhh he is this gorgeous baby model! He is pretty much famous now but at that time he was being stalked by his obsessed best friend. And BAU was involved. This was back when Gideon was still on team and our fearless leader here was Spencer's security detail! " And then Garcia's voice turned into a hushed (still a bit loud) whisper as she continued, "Bossman's photo with the model was on the front page of all fashion magazines. They created quite a buzz around as well!"

"Okay that's enough!! Everybody go to sleep or I can give you work to do right now, choose wisely!" Hotch ordered, looking pointedly at every single one of them and within a second Garcia bid goodbye, disconnecting the call quickly!

Everyone else just shared a knowing glance with each other before dispersing to their preferred seats all over the plane!

It was going to be a long case, Aaron thought!!

***†***

The team soon forgot all about this supposed model who seemed to be a somewhat touchy subject for their boss. As they reached the LVPD, they were quickly immersed in the work, giving all of their focus to the case as it should be!

It was a bad case, of course all the cases are bad, but there are always some cases who suck everything good out of them, and this was one of those! Closeted teenagers being raped and murdered and the only good thing about it all was that the LEOs were helpful instead of hindering the investigation, without their full support the case would've taken a lot longer.

They were supposed to be flying out that night but the Jet was not in a good condition and their pilot told them that they will most likely be able to fly the next night! Though they would've loved going home as soon as they can, spending a night in Vegas didn't seem like such a bad option.

The team was talking about where they should have dinner and how they should spend the night, considering they didn't have any work and it was as good as vacation! Aaron was in a separate corner talking to someone on the phone and they all just thought he was talking to Strauss, giving her idea about the case and the delay!

As he came back, the team had already decided on a few options, so Rossi put a hand on Aaron's shoulder before saying, "Aaron, we are thinking of hitting this really nice restaurant for dinner, my treat, we deserve it after this long case!"

Surprisingly Aaron shook his head, he waited for a second to choose his words carefully before explaining the reason. "I'm sorry I won't be joining you all tonight! I have dinner plans already with someone else, we will meet tomorrow at the airport when the plane is ready to takeoff! "

Everyone was quite! This was probably the first time they have heard Aaron Hotchner having plans other than work and spending time with the team! He looked cute trying to look stern so no one would ask him questions, but well Rossi was never the one to shut his mouth when Hotch needed it.

"Does it involve certain model with curly hair, bambi eyes and smile to die for?" He asked, like a little shit he was!

But tonight seemed to be a night of surprises because instead of receiving a well placed glare, all they received was a rare dimpled smile which made almost everyone pause their breathing for a second, because yeah it was that gorgeous!

"Well that's for me to know and you to never find out!" Aaron replied, still smiling, before he left them.

They just looked at each other, not really sure if that really happened, but then Morgan whistled, "He is so fucking meeting that boy!!! I knew it! Penelope is going to love this gossip!"

There was still so much about their boss that they weren't aware of!!

***†***

As soon as Aaron rang the bell, Spencer was there opening the door with huge smile! Before Aaron could even place his bags down, he was enveloped in a bear hug by none other than The Spencer Reid, model, actor and his boyfriend!

"I didn't think you'd really come! God!! You are here, you are really here!! Shit, let me see you!" Spencer pulled away, his hands immediately cupping Aaron's face, those eyes almost a bit teary and Aaron felt his heart breaking a little bit! Both of their jobs required a lot of their time and they had to travel constantly. And with the amount of work they both had, they weren't able to spend a lot of time together at all! They both travelled back and forth whenever they got the free time in their schedule, but currently Spencer was working in a movie and he had been so busy with the work that they were not able to meet for more than six months.

Spencer pulled away before taking him inside the house, inside his bedroom. And Aaron kept his bags in their designated place before going to take shower. He would have really liked to have Spencer with him in there but from the looks of it, he had already showered.

So he focused on taking a quick shower, feeling better already in the close existence of his love as the hot water started to relax his tired and aching muscles. He dried his body quickly, snapping one towel around his waist as he came out of the bathroom, drying his head with other towel.

But then it was snatched away by clever fingers and he was pushed on the bed, sitting at the end of it before that lithe body he loved so much was sitting across his lap! Spencer straddled him, before starting to dry his head with the towel he snatched earlier. Aaron hummed as he felt Spencer throwing away the towel after a few minutes before raking his long fingers through his locks. He knew how soothing it was for Aaron, and it helped in melting away those last few evidences of the tension he still had.

He wanted to kiss his boyfriend, preferably 10 minutes ago, but they had a silent agreement. If he kisses now, they won't have a dinner, and he very much wanted to have that dinner with his boyfriend, he wanted to listen to his rants, he wanted to feed him few bites, play a little game of footsie just to make his boyfriend giggle childishly and then when they are full, then he will kiss him! Small, butterfly kisses at first and then they will get heavier and then they will start touching each other and that time they won't have to stop in the middle of it for anything. Because then they'll have only one purpose, to feed the hunger their bodies felt these past few months, and relearn each other's bodies, love those spots and crooks and valleys all over again, and intertwine as one to not part again for little while.

They'll do all of that, soon, but first dinner!!

#heid #hotch×reid #hotchreid #model heid au #Ray's fics #model Spencer #agent aaron

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juniorgman187 · 4 years

Text

Bratty (Spencer Reid Imagine)

Summary: Reid must supervise Camille, who makes Reid’s job anything but easy for him.

Category: Soft angst Couple: OCFem!Reader x Spencer Reid Word Count: 2.6k

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

“You’re being ridiculous.” Camille huffed.

“No - what I’m being is a good uncle.” Cruz retorted while handing Camille a jacket.

“It’s literally midnight!”

“Exactly. I’m not leaving you alone this late at night.”

“You’re seriously gonna make me go all the way to Quantico with you right now?”

“I won’t be able to leave work after I’m there. If you come with me, I can work and take care of you.” He explained.

“I’m an adult! I can take care of myself.”

Cruz completely dismisses this. “I already told JJ that you’re coming. She’s excited to see you again. You can meet the whole team, too.”

“If I go, will you please stop acting like I’m a child?”

“I can’t make any promises.” He shrugs.

Camille groans in mild frustration as she reluctantly readies herself to leave with her uncle for Quantico.

As soon as Camille enters the BAU, she’s showered with love from JJ.

“Hey, you! How are you holding up?”

“Well right now, I’m really wishing I didn’t give Uncle Matt a key to my apartment.” Camille quips.

“Yeah, maybe when he’s distracted I’ll grab his keys and remove yours.”

JJ’s joke makes Camille smile. JJ winks at Camille before turning away to talk to Matt.

“How’s Elena?” Elena is Camille’s mother and Matt’s sister.

“Reception’s shoddy where she is, but when I drove her to the airport, she couldn’t be more excited. She’s always wanted to travel to an underdeveloped country and teach English as a second language. That’s why it wasn’t even a question if I would take care of Camille while she was away.”

“Good for her. I guess it runs in your blood to want to help people, huh?”

“No,no she’s more selfless than me. I can tell you that. She’s so patient with her students. Probably developed that skill when she had Camille. I love her to death, but kid’s feisty. Just like her mom when she was her age.”

JJ grimaces in preparation for a hard question she feels obligated to ask. “You know, it’s none of my business, but what’s Camille - 21, 22?”

“21.”

“I know you told Elena you’d watch her, but helicopter parenting her like she’s a teenager isn’t the way.”

“Forgive me if I’m not comfortable leaving her alone with a serial killer on the loose.”

This statement alone is enough to shut JJ down. On a lighter note, the team greets Camille.

“Welcome. I’m SSA Aaron Hotchner.”

“Camille de la Vega. Nice to finally meet you.”

“You’ve met JJ. This is Agents Derek Morgan, Emily Prentiss, and David Rossi. She’s our technical analyst - Penelope Garcia. And this is Dr. Spencer Reid.”

Camille goes down the line shaking everyone’s hands, but then she reaches Reid.

“A doctor in the FBI?”

He corrects her instantaneously. “Not M.D. PHD. Three of them actually. Chemistry, mathematics, and engineering.”

“Good to know.” She nods.

Camille extends her hand to shake his and everyone notices that he obliges.

“Hey, Reid what’s with the handshake? I thought it was safer to kiss.” Morgan teases.

Camille shyly laughs.

“Yeah, why the exception, kid?”

“Don’t listen to them.” Reid timidly tells Camille, making her grin from ear to ear. She’s already taken a particular liking to him. And from the looks of it, he’s done just the same.

“Although I’d love to catch up with you, Camille, we have to start working immediately. Anderson will show you to your uncle’s office.” Hotch gestures towards Anderson who’s waiting in the doorway to lead Camille out of the round table room.

. . .

Notably, the clock reads 4:10 a.m. Camille is reading a book at her uncle’s desk, when there’s a knock at the door. It’s Spencer.

“Oh, hi. Did you need to grab something from his desk? I can move if you need me to.” She politely offers.

“No, no I actually came to bring you food. I thought you might be hungry.”

Camille thanks him and accepts the paper bag of food.

Reid notices she’s reading a book. “What are you reading?”

“Little Women.” Camille says, flashing the cover.

“Have you read it before?”

“Mhm. It’s one of my favorites. Have you?”

“My mom read it to me when I was younger.”

Camille sees an opportunity to mess with him and takes it. “Wasn’t it crazy how Laurie set the March house on fire and all of them died?”

Spencer furrows his brows in confusion.

“I, um, I don’t remember that part.”

Camille immediately registers Reid’s discomfort. “I was just messing with you.”

“Oh.” Spencer nods and forces a laugh. “I should, um, probably get back. Do you want anything before I go? Coffee, water, maybe?”

“I’m okay, thanks.”

“Alright, I’ll be back to check on you.” Reid scrunches his lips into a small smile before closing the door behind him.

As he makes his way back to the round table, he smiles so widely, that when Morgan passes him, he notices.

“Stop it right there, Pretty Boy.”

Reid stops in his tracks.

“Now turn around.”

Reid obeys.

“Why do you look like a kid in a candy shop right now? What did I miss?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

For someone that studies behavior, he’s not too good at lying. Morgan sees right through Reid.

“Come on, man. You can tell me.”

Penelope passes by.

“Tell him what? Whatcha hiding, Boy Wonder?”

“Nothing. I’m not hiding anything.”

Morgan and Garcia look at him with skepticism.

“Did you hear how his voice did that thing? His voice only gets that high when he’s lying.” Garcia notes.

Reid clears his throat to deliberately speak in a lower pitch. “No it doesn’t.”

Garcia squints her eyes at him. “What do you not want us to know?”

“Guys, seriously. It’s nothing.”

“Is this about Cruz’s niece?” Morgan asks, hitting the nail on the head.

“Ooh, I knew something was fishy when you shook her hand.”

“It was just a handshake, okay?”

“Well, excuse me, but I’m having a hard time believing you.” Morgan cleverly retorts.

“I don’t like her. If that’s what you’re implying.”

Morgan smirks. “Oh is that so? Then riddle me this Pretty Boy - where were you just now?”

Reid loosens his tie, feeling like it’s a noose.

“Oh did you see that? His body language is speaking for itself. And it’s saying A LOT.” Garcia giggles.

“Go get em, tiger.” Morgan leaves Reid to his devices with a pat on his shoulder.

“Shut up.”

. . .

No longer reading, Camille is scanning her uncle’s shelves - looking at the pictures and the books, and opening and closing different cabinets or drawers in his desk. A knock on the door startles her.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m just checking in. How are you?”

She frowns. “Incredibly bored. I finished my book like thirty minutes ago.”

Reid checks his watch.

“How long was I gone?”

A small laugh leaves her lips. “I was basically at the end when you left.”

Reid’s lips shift to one side of his face as he thinks of something to help Camille out. “Um, I - I have newspapers. With, with crosswords on them. I can bring them to you.”

Reid rushes out of the room and comes back awfully quickly with a stack of newspapers. Camille laughs delightfully at the sight of them.

“These are scans of ones I’ve already solved.”

“You’ve solved all of these? What are you? Some kind of genius?”

“I don’t believe that intelligence can be accurately quantified. But I do have an IQ of 187, an eidetic memory, and can read 20,000 words per minute.”

Camille is in awe.

“Uh, yes, I’m a genius.”

“So what I’m hearing is, if I get stuck on a word, I could just ask you and you’d remember what the right answer was?”

“Kind of takes the fun out of solving it yourself, don’t you think?”

“Not if it means I get to see you again.”

Reid laughs uncomfortably. “Uh, so how will I know if you need help?”

“I’ll text you.”

“You don’t have my - Oh got it.”

Camille makes a face and hands him her phone to take. He makes a contact for himself and hands her back the phone.

“Great. See you in an hour, Laurie.”

Reid’s caught off guard.

“If I’m Laurie, are you Jo or Amy?”

“Well that depends. Am I the best friend or the love interest?”

Reid raises his eyebrows in surprise.

“I resonate more with Amy - if that’s what you were asking. I’m young and driven - like her.”

“I always thought Amy to be sort of a brat.”

"She knows what she wants. So do I.”

“Oh yeah? And what do you want?” This is a newfound display of confidence coming from the Doctor. It catches her by surprise.

Camille doesn’t play into it, just to tease him. “What I want is for you and your team to catch this guy, so I can go home.”

“I should, uh, I should go back now. See you in an hour.”

“Looking forward to it.” She says sarcastically.

. . .

Reid is working on the geographical profile when he feels his phone buzz. Without even needing to see it, he knows it’s Camille.

UNKNOWN NUMBER: You’re late for your check in, Doctor.

Reid looks at his watch. He’s only three minutes late.

REID: Sorry, I’m busy. And you’re only supposed to text when you have a question. That wasn’t a question.

UNKNOWN NUMBER: Fine, here's a question - when are you gonna make your hourly check in?

REID: A question pertaining to the crossword.

UNKNOWN NUMBER: Los Angeles Times. 64 down. Clue is “Dr. Reid is late for his check in. When should he be expected?”

REID: The ‘Amy’ in you is showing.

UNKNOWN NUMBER: The brat part of her or the love interest part of her?

REID: Former.

UNKNOWN NUMBER: It’s fine. I can wait. Nowhere else I have to be anyway.

REID: I’ll be there when I’m done.

. . .

Reid is walking through the hall and entering Cruz’s office. Camille works diligently on the crossword.

“Not so fast. You have to stop by the main office and get a tardy slip.” She quips.

“Funny. How’s the crossword?”

“I’ve finished two of them since you’ve been gone.”

Reid glances at his watch. “That doesn’t make any sense. The average time to finish a puzzle is 21 minutes. I’ve been gone for 88.”

"I got distracted.”

“Really? By what?”

Camille fights a smirk. “A little birdie who stopped by.”

Reid shakes his head and exasperates. He needn’t know more to figure out what she meant by this.

"Which one - Garcia or Morgan?”

"Does it matter?”

"What’d they say?”

"Enough.”

"Enough to?”

Camille gets up from the chair and walks around to the front of the desk. This places her right in front of Reid. This is the closest they’ve been yet.

"Enough to let me know whether I’m the best friend or the love interest.”

Camille draws back and grabs her coat from off the chair. She puts it on.

"So who are you? Jo or Amy?”

"Don’t play coy. You know the answer. You are a genius after all.”

Camille grabs her purse off the desk and begins to leave the office.

“Where are you going? I thought you were supposed to leave?”

Camille exits the office and begins to walk into the hallway toward the elevator. The worried doctor follows close behind.

"I’m going for a walk to a cafe. No offense, but I’m not a huge fan of the coffee you’ve got here. Plus, I could use the fresh air.”

"You shouldn’t leave. Especially not alone.”

"Not you, too. Come on. You know I’m not a target. From what I saw in your little conference room, all the victims are blonde. And unless I bleach my hair between here and the time I reach the sidewalk, I think I’ll be okay.”

"Are you at least going to let your Uncle know where you’re going?”

She shoots him a deadpan stare. “What would be the fun in that?”

Camille presses the button near the elevator.

"Anderson can order coffee for you. He’ll bring it back here so you don’t have to leave.” Reid suggests.

"Mmm, no thanks. I’m a big girl.”

The elevator door opens.

“Are you sure about that? Because right now you’re acting like a -”

He hesitates. Camille steps into the elevator and turns on her heels so she can face him before the doors close.

She provokes him. "Say it.”

"You’re acting like a brat!”

"Oh I’m sorry - is my ‘Amy’ showing, Dr. Reid? Well, I am your love interest after all - Laurie.”

Camille winks and the doors close. Reid lets out a frustrated sigh and shakes his head and he begins to jog to the stairwell. With speed and caution he only exhibits when trying to apprehend an unsub, he flies down the stairs. His slender figure can’t support this kind of cardio, but nonetheless, he runs.

When he finds himself in the parking garage, just beside the elevator, he sees Camille several feet away, walking out of the structure completely. He runs as fast as his feet can take him. Eventually he reaches her before she’s on the main sidewalk.

"Camille, wait!”

He’s breathless and red. Camille walks back over to him with a devilish grin.

"Did you actually just run all the way here?”

"What gave me away?”

This earns a hearty laugh from Camille.

"I’m coming with you.” He breathlessly explains.

"Why didn’t you say so earlier? Would’ve saved you the marathon.”

"Yeah, yeah, be quiet.”

“Swallow your pride. Occasionally, it’s not fattening.”

“Frank Tyger. Touché.”

She’s even more impressed at his knowledge of the quote she recited. This makes her more keen to starting an actual dialogue with him instead of just provoking him.

“So why’d they leave you behind?” She asks.

“They didn’t leave me behind. I just choose not to go. I’m notorious for being prone to gunshot wounds, so I choose to stay where I know I’ll be safe. What about you? Why’d Cruz bring you to the office?”

"For the same reason you stayed back. He wants me somewhere I’ll be safe.”

"You’re a little old for a babysitter, don’t you think?”

“You would think, but Uncle Matt has this gift where every time he looks at me, he still sees his helpless 8 year old niece.”

“What happened when you were 8?”

Camille doesn’t even realize what she might’ve accidentally revealed. “Freudian slip. Nothing you need to worry about.”

"You sure?”

“All you need to know is that what happened to me motivated him to work in the field. Ever since then he’s been working to get to the top.”

"So how old are you anyway, little woman?”

"Oh, is that my nickname now? An outright juxtaposition of “big girl” and a reference to the book?”

"Mhm.”

"21.”

"Wow, you really are a little woman.”

"Better than being an old man.”

“Old man? I’m 32.”

"My point exactly.”

"You’re welcome by the way. For doing this.” He adds.

"Oh please, I didn’t ask you to walk me to the cafe.”

“But you wanted me to.”

"Oh wow, you know about reverse psychology. Congrats you’re with the other 98% of the population that does too. Don’t act like you’re doing me a favor. You wouldn’t have followed me if you didn’t want to come.”

"What I want is for you to be safe.”

"Like I said before, I don’t fit the victimology. He has a type and it’s not me. I’m fine going by myself.”

"You know something? You’re really stubborn. Anyone ever tell you that?”

“Aww, I’m so hurt. Boo hoo.” She sarcastically remarks.

“You think you can be just a little bit nicer to me? I am babysitting you after all.”

Camille halts.

“I’m gonna ignore the babysitting part, but yes, I can be nice, but right now, I’ve spent 6 hours cooped up in my uncle’s office bored out of my mind.”

"So what? You’re only toying with me because you’re bored and I’m your only entertainment?”

“Oh congrats! You finally figured it out, genius.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･��:*

74 notes · View notes

lils-writes-stuff · 4 years

Text

The Lesson

Spencer Reid x reader

Best Years Season 2 part four | part three | part two | part one | season one

summary: the week that changed everything

warning: normal criminal minds things, angst, sadness, gore, fun stuff

A/N: based on season 8 episode 10; you’re all going to hate me, im sorry, i promise it gets better the is the storm before the rainbow

The cool Georgia air hit Y/N’s face as she stepped out of her rental car. The scene in front of her seemed so foreign after years of being away. Her childhood home stared her down as she stood in its driveway. She almost didn’t want to go in. Every time she saw her mom, she came to visit her. So the last time she was truly home, was almost six years ago.

She walked up to the front door, duffel bag in one hand and the other raised to knock. However, that wasn’t needed, because her mom swung the door open the minute she saw her.

“Y/N!” She exclaimed, wrapping her in a tight, motherly hug.

“Hi Mom,” she whispered, her cheeks squished against her mother’s shoulder.

“Come in, come in,” she ushered her daughter into the house. Y/N looked around the home she once called her own. The walls were a lighter color then she remembered and there was new furniture and decorations scattered throughout.

“So I have it all planned out, I know you’re only here for a couple of days, but tonight, you’re aunt and uncle are coming over for dinner, along with some of our friends. Them for the other two days we can do whatever you want.” Her mom was standing on the opposite side of the island from Y/N, a smile absorbing her face as she looked at her daughter.

Y/N just looked at her mom, a watery smile on her face. She wasn’t upset at all though, she was just so happy to see her mom again.

“What’s wrong, sweetie?” Her Mom walked to the other side of the counter.

“Nothing, Mom, I just am so glad to see you,” she whimpered.

Her mom gave her the same watery smile and wrapped her in another hug.

The two sat in the kitchen, coffee cups in hand, laughing about her mom’s stories at her restaurant she worked at. Y/N told stories of the team and how much they loved her mom from her visits up there.

“So have you done it yet?” Y/N’s mom asked, pointing to her left hand.

“No, not yet.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know, I just haven’t found the right time I guess,” Y/N shrugged.

“Well, I think that when you get back you should just do it.” Her mom laughed taking another sip of her coffee. “You talk about how perfect he is and me and London are waiting in anticipation for that call, so just do it. The next time you see him.”

“We’ll see mom, we’ll see.”

------------

It had been two days since Y/N had left to go home for a visit. After the night where Spencer gave her the idea, she waited about three weeks before actually executing it. Spencer kept pushing her to go, telling her the team could survive without her. So she finally went.

“You know, now I know how you felt when I was gone on your leave,” Spencer laughed during his confession. His phone was pressed against his ear as he passed back and forth in their living room.

“Oh yeah, but I learned to survive, how are you holding up?” Y/N asked through the phone. She stood in the kitchen of her childhood home, leaning on the island with her coffee sitting in front of her. “And besides it’s only been like what? Three days?”

“Two days twelve hours and thirty-six seconds,” Spencer corrected.

“Ah, forgive me. And here I thought you didn’t miss me at all, clearly, you do.”

Spencer chuckled at her remark, “So much.”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I miss you too,” Y/N admitted. “And my mom misses you too, she says that we both need to come down here and visit together sometime.”

“I think that’d be fun,” Spencer said.

“Hey, Spence, so listen I was thinking when I get back we could go out to dinner, you know like a fancy restaurant maybe?” Her voice was hesitant at her request. Her heart pounded in anticipation as she waited for Spencer’s answer.

“Sure, that sounds great. Rossi was telling me about this great Italian place yesterday that we could go too,” Spencer responded. His mind raced at the thought of them going, knowing it would be the perfect opportunity to ask her the question he’s been waiting for.

“Perfect,” she responded. He could see her do her little jump of excitement through her voice.

Spencer was quiet for a second and looked up at the larger than average sized clock in the living room. He was late. Then his phone pinged, pulling it away from his ear, he saw the message from Penelope about a case.

“Damn it,” he muttered. “Y/N, I’m late and we’ve got a case, I love you, I’ll talk to you later?” He rushed around the apartment, grabbing all his items and go-bag so he could head out the door.

“Yeah, sounds good bub love you too,” she responded.

“Bye.”

Spencer pocketed his phone quickly and rushed for the door of the apartment. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of the black box he left out. Quickly, he picked it up and put it in his satchel. He opened the door and rushed to make it to Quantico in time.

“Sorry I’m late, guys, I had an appointment,” Spencer rushed, taking his bag off and sitting in his chair.

“Uh-huh, did this appointment have to do with a Dr. Y/N Y/L/N, who you so dearly miss,” Derek teased, making kissy faces at Spencer.

Spencer muttered a small ‘shut up’ and pulled the file on the table closer to him.

“Alright let’s get started,” Hotch said as he quickly entered the room.

Maybe I wasn’t as late as I thought, Spencer thought to himself.

“Yeah, okay,” Penelope said, standing up from her chair. “Three days ago, Bruce Phillips was found dead with his blond hair dyed black. He had been put in a box and left on a busy street.”

“A custom-made box,” Rossi noted as the picture of the box came up on the screen.

“Maybe our unsub was a carpenter,” Blake posed, twiddling with a pen in her hand.

“He stuffed him in there practically folding him in half,” Derek added.

Spencer looked at the pictures of the man in the box. His legs bent and broken at the knee and his head leaned back against the box.

“He had also been hung and restrained and that’s where the plot thickens like a bad soup,” Penelope explained as she pulled up the next two victims. “Yesterday, Justin Marks and Connie Foster, who were dating, they went missing two miles away from the first abduction site.”

“A couple? He’s escalating,” JJ remarked at the new information.

“Yes, this morning Justin’s body was found. He had been hung, he had been stuffed in a box in an alley. Officers say his brown hair had been dyed black. Connie is still missing,” Penelope continued.

“So he probably still has her,” JJ said.

“Why would he reject Justin overnight but keep the first male victim for two days?” Derek asked, not understanding the escalation.

“Something about him didn’t work,” Rossi responded, looking up from his file to the TV with the victims. “Look at his neck. He was hung multiple times.”

“The question is, what does he do with Connie?” Blake asked.

“He could make her watch him abuse the men or have asphyxiated sex with them,” Spencer posed a theory.

“Well, a brunette male and a woman are crucial to this guy's fantasy,” Derek said.

“Well he’s kept Connie, maybe she’s the object of his desire,” JJ said.

“Well, our first order of business is finding her and then making sure he doesn’t do this again.” Hotch closed his file and stood up. “Wheels up in thirty.”

----------------

Spencer sat on the coach of the jet, his head resting on the backside of his hand as his eyes followed the clouds that rolled beneath them. He thought about all the ways the dinner with Y/N could go, his fear of rejection showing itself as he thought about her saying no. But then he thought of her saying yes, a smile shining bright on her face and it allowed some of his anxiety to wash away.

Still, he was nervous. Penelope and JJ had tried to reassure him many times that she would say yes, even Blake thought so, but he was still scared. But isn’t everyone when they’re about to propose?

“Alright let’s go over victimology,” Hotch said, gaining everyone’s attention.

Spencer peeled his eyes away from the window and back towards the group.

“Both male victims had their hair dyed black, and the woman is a brunette,” Hotch began the topic.

“The guys are similar, same ages, same builds,” Blake added.

“Hey were also abducted outside their homes, which were all in the same area,” Rossi continued.

“So they were probably being stalked,” Derek noted.

“Was Connie with her boyfriend when she was abducted?” Spencer asked quickly.

“It looks that way,” JJ answered, then began to read from the file. “Her purse was found on the ground outside of his house.”

“So this involves some kind of ruse,” Derek said.

“It’s difficult to lure most people from the security of their own homes,” Spencer added, not sure about the ruse thing.

“Well, some people let their guard down,” Blake countered.

For some reason, Spencer started to become very defensive about this. “Yeah, but stalking victims vary their routes home. They enter and exit through different doors, they wear disguises. They don’t talk to anyone in their driveway. They hardly talk to anyone at all, They’re-they’re terrorized.”

Okay, maybe he shouldn’t have gotten so worked up about that. But he couldn’t help but spew the stuff he had learned about victims of stalking onto everyone. He couldn’t help that instinctive feeling inside of him.

The team looked at him, confused and shocked gazes on their faces. They did not expect that outburst from him.

“Okay, so maybe they were followed, Reid,” Derek said in hopes to have him back down his front he was putting up. “I mean, the bottom line is the unsub escalated. The first male was abducted alone, the second was with his girlfriend.”

“We, what do we know about her?” JJ asked, hoping to find some new information to help them.

“Connie was in her thirties, baked cakes for a living, she never had a run-in with the law,” Blake answered.

“Assuming he kept her, what’s the reason?” Rossi posted the new question.

“She’s the necessity, somehow she fits into his fantasy,” Blake replied.

“And so far, that need may be what’s keeping her alive,” Hotch added.

“So what we know is that we have an unsub with a fantasy or a deep desire that requires the man to look a specific way,” Derek said, going over what they so far had.

“Since he rejected Justin so quickly, he’s probably looking for a replacement as we speak,” Spencer added.

--------------

The doors of the elevator opened with a ding as Y/N reached the sixth floor of the FBI academy building. When she stepped out, a hand grasped tight on the strap of her bag, she was met with the familiar smell of coffee and paper. She had made it back earlier that day,the apartment her and Spencer shared empty when she arrived. So, not being able to deal with the quiet again, she decided to head to the office.

She was supposed to be in Georgia for another day, but when she heard there was a case, she really couldn’t help but come back. Her mom understood, she would have been leaving in the morning anyway. So before she went to the airport, Y/N visited her brother's grave like she had intended to do.

She stood about ten feet away from the headstone, fear of stepping on his body in the ground made her stomach turn. She told him all about her job and how proud she thought he’d be of her. How Derek had become an older brother to her when she moved up there. And she told him about Spencer. All about how she was planning on proposing to him and how excited she was to do it.

“Hey, I thought you weren’t supposed to be back until tomorrow?” Penelope’s question brought Y/N out of her memory.

“Oh yeah, but I heard there was a case and I was leaving in the early morning tomorrow so I just decided to catch an earlier flight,” Y/N answered, pulling her lips into a line.

“Oh, so you get to hang out with me on this one!” Penelope excitedly took Y/N’s hand and pulled her to her office.

“So catch me up to speed,” Y/N said as she sat in the extra swivel chair in Penelope’s office.

Penelope explained everything she did to the team before they left and added in the details of what they told her so far on their victimology. With only some of the broader picture told to her, she was able to fill in the rest of the victimology herself.

“How was Georgia?” Penelope asked after she finished typing on her computer.

“It was good, got to hang out with my family, go visit some old friends, wasn’t too exciting,” YN said, her eyes still trained on the tablet in her lap as she looked at the photos of the case.

“Cool,” Penelops’s eyes wandered the office. “ So, did you figure out how you’re going to propose to Spencer?”

“Ah, so that’s why you’re making small talk,” Y/N laughed, closing the tablet now. “Yes, I have. When they get back from the case, we’re going to go to dinner and I’m going to ask him.”

“Oh my gosh, can I be there? No, that’d be weird he’d be suspicious. But I want to see his reaction and you’re reaction and-”

“Garcia-” Y/N put her hand up to have her stop rambling- “You will see tons of pictures, and I am sure you are going to convince Rossi to throw some sort of party.”

“Good point, Penelope whispered. “I probably will have that done.”

-----------

“I’ve been getting lame GSWs, a few bus crash victims, but a hanging? This is fun,” The M.E., Dr. Cross, said to Rossi and Spencer after she brought them over to the body. “You think it was sexual?”

“Not in the traditional sense,” Rossi responded, slightly weirded out from the woman's excitement.

“Well, look-” she pointed to the victim’s body- “there are numerous ligature marks on the neck, indicating he was hung multiple times. The ones without abrasions were probably made by something soft, like fabric.”

“Any idea how long it went on for?” Spencer asked, looking up from the victim's body to Cross.

“Based on the different varying coloration of the bruising, I’d say about twelve hours,” Cross answered, then pointed to another mark on the body. “This ligature mark with the abrasion is the final one.”

She moved the light in her hand down the neck of the victim to point out what she found next. “There’s an inverted ‘V’ in the back. He was hung with a leather strap or belt, which is what killed him. Oh, we also found ketamine in his system.”

When Cross mentioned the final hanging, Spencer stood up from his hunched position and walked over to the x-rays on the light board.

“Well, ketamine acts quickly, so he must have used a ruse to get close to our victim,” Rossi said.

“Look at this,” Spencer held up the x-rays, “The bones were perfectly disjointed.”

“Could have dislocated from the fall after hanging or when he shoved him in the box,” Rossi said, trying to give some ideas as to why they were dislocated.

“Well, actually, the bones were dislocated antemortem.,” Cross corrected. Her attention quickly advertised the two men wheeling in the next victim. “Oh,” she gasped excitedly. “Goody, overtime.”

“Can you check to see if the bones were dislocated in the same way?” Spencer asked her as she walked over to the next victim.

She pulled the sheet back on the victim. Her hands reached for his arm to check the dislocation. “Yep, the same way.” She removed her hands from the body then crossed them. “This guy’s sicker than my last girlfriend.”

Rossi turned to look at Spencer. “The question is, why is he doing this?”

------------

Y/N sat with Penelope in her office still, she wasn’t really planning on leaving though, since the rest of the team was away. She held one of Penelope’s many figurines in her hand, this one was a small unicorn that squished. While it was very childish, Y/N couldn’t help but be entranced by the object.

“Oh yay, we have a call,” Penelope said as she answered the phone. “Garcia and Wonder woman at your service.”

“Can you find anyone in the area that might sell or rent medieval torture equipment?” Hotch asked, getting straight to the point as usual.

“Besides a friend of mine in a knitting group?” Penelope asked jokingly.

“Try S&M suppliers, we’re looking for a stretching rack,” Rossi elaborated.

“Spanking the keys as we speak,” Penelope began typing.

“Ew,” Y/N said in disgust with Penelope’s phrase.

“Don’t worry they like it,” Penelope reassured her. “Okay, I have cross-checked stretching equipment with S&M equipment and I found something that stretches something…”

“I don’t think this is something that we’re looking for,” Y/N said as she looked at the photo. Her head turned at the item in confusion. “How does that even work?”

“Maybe he made his own,” Spencer’s voice was heard as he came up with the new idea.

“That would be pretty elaborate,” Rossi remarked.

“Okay, me and Y/N will keep looking, we’ll get back to you soon,” Penelope said, her pen hovering over the hang-up button.

“Hang on Garcia,” Hotch stopped her from hanging up. “Y/N when did you get back?”

“Couple hours ago sir, I caught an earlier flight home,” Y/N responded. She hoped Hotch wouldn’t say anything about her being back earlier, she knew Spencer would call her later about it though.

“Alright, hit us back when you get something.”

“Will do,” Y/N said and then Penelope hung up.

“I thought you said she wasn’t coming back until tomorrow?” Hotch looked at Spencer.

“I thought so too,” Spencer replied, having no clue that she was home early.

“I just went to the latest abductee’s home,” Derek said as he walked up to the three standing in the conference room. “Not only did our unsub use fake blood in some kind of ruse, but the front porch security cameras were also disconnected right before the abduction.”

“So he cased the site,” Rossi observed from the information Derek had given.

“Well, it’s residential streets-- a lot of people coming and going, that’s high-risk behavior,” Derek mentioned.

“Yeah, the unsub didn’t care. He needed him and it was worth the risk,” Hotch added.

------------

Spencer peeled the tissue paper inside the box they found back. It’s light airy pink color contrasted with the dark horror inside.

“The box is wrapped this time,” Spencer said as he looked at balled up tissue paper.

“What is this, a gift?” Detective Marks asked.

Spencer pulled back some of the tissue paper from the top. He pulled back about four pieces before the face of the latest victim was revealed. The man that had been taken the day before.

“His natural hair color is black and still he kills him,” Hotch remarked as Spencer pulled more pieces of paper away. “And, look, no neck wounds.”

“Then how did he die?” Marks asked.

“Maybe he bled out,” Hotch suggested.

“Or he fell from something,” Spencer argued as he examined the body more. “Look at his hands. He bored holes through the hands that ripped, and then he moved them to the wrist.”

“Reid, check the feet,” Hotch ordered, getting a hunch on what it could be.

Spencer pulled the victim’s shoe back, seeing the same type of hole.

“Stigmata?” Spencer asked as he had a theory forming.

“Hanging and then crucifixion,” Hotch explained the meaning of the word for the detective.

“So this has to do with religious beliefs,” Marks said.

“Maybe he just found a new way to torture them?” Spencer suggested.

“And still he’s keeping Connie. Something about her is working,” Hotch said.

Spencer’s eyes kept on the body. He went over every detail in his head, comparing it with the other bodies. Then he came up with a hit.

“Hotch look-” Spencer pointed to the jeans on the victim- “These are the exact same jeans that victim number two was wearing. Look at the trim.”

Spencer reached his hand into the box, pulling on the color of the shirt the victim had on. When he pulled it around enough, he could clearly read the tag. “Bonner Brothers. Is that a local store?”

“About five miles, half thrift store, half yuppie mart,” Marks answered.

“I’ll have JJ and Morgan check it out after we give the profile,” Hotch said.

------------

“Okay, so we’re looking for a white male, at least thirty due to the sophistication of the crimes,” Y/N began to deliver the profile to Penelope. She sat in the swivel chair behind her, her head leaning on its back. She held a pink pen in her hand as she twiddled with it to keep her somewhat entertained.

“He’s torturing his victims. From what I’ve discussed with the team, he’s trying to perfect a delusion, which he’s failed. Three times.”

Penelope sat, her hands laying on her thighs as she listened intently to the profile. She only usually got a small paper description to help her search parameters, so it was really cool for her to see a profiler at work.

“With most delusions like this, the reality never lives up to the unsubs expectation.”

“That is the truth with anything though,” Penelope commented on Y/N’s last statement.

“Yeah, anyway, his fantasy involves the torture and stretching-”

“Okay, you can skip that part, my perfect, pure, and gore free office space doesn’t need that,” Penelope said, holding up her hands to stop Y/N and her face contorting in disgust.

“Okay,” Y/N laughed before she continued. “Before he kills them, the unsub fixes their hair and paints their nails. The last victim he escalated to crucifying him, I’ll spare you the details of that. Crucifixion was used for serious crimes, so the unsub probably believes that his victims have wronged him.”

Y/N sat back in her chair, making it spin in circles as she kept thinking. “Something isn’t working though in his fantasy, because he keeps discarding the men…”

Y/N stopped the chair and grabbed the tablet off the table beside her. She pulled up the picture of the latest victim in the box. “He kills them, then ritualistically places them in a box with tissue paper, which is weird.”

“Why is it weird?” Penelope asked, on the edge of her seat like Y/N was reading her some sort of novel and was reaching the climax.

“Well his initial behavior dehumanizes them, so it means his victims he values more when they’re dead,” Y/N answered. She looked back down at the photos again. “But if he's keeping Connie, does that mean she’s dead and he is doing ungodly things that I shouldn’t even think of, or is she still alive?”

Penelope looked at Y/N with a puzzled look on her face, not knowing the answer to her questions.

“I was asking myself, Pen,” Y/N eased Penelope’s thoughts.

“Oh good.”

-----------------

After the team delivered the profile, Spencer had moved back to a quiet room to work in. Well, he wasn’t really focused on his work, he was worrying about proposing to Y/N.

All-day, the team had noticed his behavior. Of course, they would, they’re profilers. Spencer’s odd behavior on the plane, his constant whispering under his breath, and his nervous breaths.

Blake took extra notice of this though, she had formed some sort of motherly bond with Spencer. And Spencer was glad to have it, she was someone he could relate to intellectually also so it was nice to have her to talk to.

Spencer sat in a small office, writing on some paper to help with his geo-profile. He was trying to narrow it down to an area where the unsub might be keeping his victims. He was hard at work, but his mind kept going back to Y/N.

She was all he could think about. His nerves from proposing, going over every possible way the evening could go. He couldn’t help himself but feel nervous.

“There you are,” Blake said as she saw Spencer in the room. “How's the geographical profiling going? And why are you doing it here?”

“It’s going good. I’m just having trouble concentrating out there, is all, so I came in here.” Spencer gestured vaguely with his pencil around the room. He quickly looked back down to the map and continued to work.

“Hmm,” Blake hummed. “So what’s with you today?”

“Hm,” Spencer said, not understanding what she meant.

“Is this about the black box in your bag?”

Spencer opened and closed her mouth, he really hadn’t told anyone about his plan to propose. Only JJ and Penelope. JJ because she’s his best friend and Penelope because she could help him find out what Y/N would like and she was also really close to him. “She asked me the other morning, for when she gets back, to go to dinner. And I-I decided that’s when I decided I’m going to do it.”

“Awe, Reid,” Blake gushed. “She’s going to say yes, you know.”

“I know, it’s just, she’s the most beautiful girl in the world to me, and I don’t want to mess it up,” Spencer confessed. “But what if she says no? What if she doesn’t want to marry me?”

“Spencer,” Blake scorned and then took a seat in the chair across from Spencer. “Why wouldn’t she say yes?”

“Because I’m weird,” Spencer said. “I slouch, my hairs to long, she always has to fix my perpetually crooked tie-”

“Your hair’s fine.”

“Really? Thanks, my mom thinks it’s too long and so does my Aunt Ethel,” Spencer admitted.

“Well, you’re not about to propose to them,” Blake laughed.

“I just don't want to ruin something so special, over something so trivial as looks.” Spencer was showing how insecure he was and it truly broke Blake’s heart. “She’s beautiful, Alex, she’s all I could ever ask for, inside and out. Her smile is contagious, her heart is so big, and her eyes sparkle.”

“Spencer, I think you’re excited but afraid,” Blake told him.

Spencer nodded, agreeing with her.

“But I have only known you two together for four months now, and the way she looks at you, with such love and adoration. Tells me she’s going to say yes,” Blakes gave him a serious face.

Spencer gave a half-smile, her words comforted him.

“So don’t second guess yourself, just do it, because she is not going to say no,” Blake gave him one last word of encouragement.

“We’ll see.”

--------------

“You know what’s crazy,” Y/N blurted into the quiet space of her and Penelope.

“What’s crazy?”

“The way that these victims were tortured. The dislocation seems so...moving? Like he wants to control them.” Y/N looked at the M.E. report. The dislocation just seemed odd and yet so familiar.

“Movement, control, crucifixion…” Y/N was muttering these words under her breath as she continued to think why she knew this case. It seemed like something she read before. A book? No. A Reddit scary story? Possibly. An old case?

“Penelope there was a case, uh around 2010 I think, I can’t remember the unsubs name but it had something to do with a woman drugging her victims and...oh and she dressed them up,” Y/N listed off what she could remember from the case file she read before she joined the BAU.

“I think I remember that one, but let me look it up just to be sure.” Penelope began to type on her computer quickly and look up the case. “Here it is, Savannah Malcolm, thirty-two at the time of her arrest. She kidnapped and drugged women to look like a line of dolls due to a frontal lobe problem from electro-shock therapy prescribed by her father, who was a serial molester.”

“Okay, the doll thing that’s what I’m looking for.” Y/N pulled her phone out and quickly scrolled to Spencer’s number.

“The M.E. just called, not only were ligature marks on victim three’s arms, but his jaw was dislocated as well,” Rossi said to Hotch after he hung up the phone.

“His jaw?” Spencer asked as he and Blake approached the two men.

“Why would you hang someone, dislocate their joints and their jaw, and then crucify them?” Hotch’s confusion was received all around by the group.

Spencer was thinking, long and hard. His eyes became focused on a Newton’s Cradle that sat on a deputy's desk. The wheels in his brain turned and he was so close to connecting them but he couldn’t find the last little bit.

“I can see your wheels turning, don't hold back,” Rossi said, bringing Spencer out of his head.

“Maybe he’s dislocating their body parts so that he can manipulate them himself,” Spencer said, explaining to them what he was thinking.

As soon as Blake was about to ask a question, Spencer’s phone began to ring. He pulled it out of his back pocket and saw Y/N’s name light up the screen.

“Hey, Y/N, what’s up?” Spencer said when he answered his phone.

“Spence put me on speaker.”

“Okay, one sec.” He pulled the phone away from his ear and did as she told him. “You’re on speaker.”

“Savannah Malcolm,” Y/N said, confusing everyone in the room.

“What about her?” Hotch said as he recognized the name.

“She was a collector, she kidnapped women so that she could be a part of her doll collection she was missing. What if this guy has something like that, a male and female set of dolls, stuffed animals, even I don’t-”

“Marionettes.” Spencer cut her off thinking the same thing she was.

“Yes! I know it’s crazy but-”

“No, no I see it,” Spencer agreed with her but when he looked around he could see the confusion on the other’s faces. “Think about it for a second. If you add the dislocation, the holes in the hands, the strange clothing, and the odd makeup, it sounds crazy, but our unsub could be turning our victims into human marionettes.”

“That makes sense, and it’s the best lead,” Rossi agreed, looking to Hotch who had a posing look on his face.

“The Greeks translated ‘puppets’ as ‘neurospasta’, which literally means string-pulling,” Spencer said as he gave more insight on the marionette theory.

“Oh and throughout time they’ve been used as a method to tell kings a story so the subjects didn’t have to speak to him directly,” Y/N piped in since she had some knowledge of the matter.

Penelope looked over at her from her chair, a confused look on her face.

“What? I like history,” Y/N defended herself.

“She’s right,” Spencer said, a small sense of pride forming in his chest.

“It was a way to hear the truth,” Rossi said as he was taking in the information.

“It seems like this unsub is doing something similar. Using his puppets to tell his story,” Hotch added.

“He can’t be controlling them by hand,” Blake said as she thought about how the unsub would control two humans.

“No, he probably built some sort of contraption,” Hotch agreed.

“And he’s trying to lift his victims,” Spencer added.

“That could explain why he discarded the men,” Rossi said as he looked at the victims’ charts. “They were too heavy.”

“Wait, Rossi what do you see?” Y/N asked, pushing her chair back so she could grab the copies of the victims’ charts she had.

“Well, I’m checking the licenses of our victims, and each weighed less than the previous one,” Rossi noted as he picked up each one to compare the weights.

“You know, if he’s making human marionettes, that also explains why he’s stuffing his victims into boxes,” Spencer said, his eyes bouncing between the three around him. “It’s like a sick toy chest.”

“So he is dehumanizing them,” Y/N noted.

“But he’s not killing them, he’s turning them into his playthings,” Hotch said.

The four at the station turned as they heard steps approaching.

“A father and son were just abducted from a parking lot at gunpoint,” Detective Marks said when he reached them. “A witness saw a man force them into a car.”

“Dave, you and Blake go check it out,” Hotch ordered. “Garcia, you there.”

“Yes, sir,” Penelope piped up to be heard over Y/N’s phone.

“I need you to start looking for theater owners and puppeteers in the area,” Hotch said.

“Will do sir,” Penelope responded.

“We’ll hit you back with some results,” Y/N added and went to hang up the phone.

“Hey, Y/N wait,” Spencer said, pulling her off of speaker and putting his phone to his ear.

“Yeah, Spence,” she responded, doing the same as him.

“We're still on for dinner when I get back?”

“Of course, I already made the reservation.”

-----------------

“Okay there are five puppeteers/marionetters in the area,” Penelope said quickly, seeing as there were two new victims.

“Any recently released from prison?” Hotch asked.

Penelope quickly typed into the search engine and got no results.

“No,” Y/N answered when she read the screen.

“Yeah, they’re all working kids’ parties and at hospitals,” Penelope added.

“What about someone who had a traumatic incident with a brunette girl?” Spencer gave a new set of parameters.

“That’s kind of specific,” Penelope muttered as she began to type. While she was typing, she got a call from JJ and Derek. “Hold on let me patch in JJ and Morgan.”

“Hey, we’re at the clothing store,” Derek’s voice said over the phone. “And we got the names of five people who left numerous messages for Tucker this week.”

“Give them to me and Wonder Woman,” Penelope said, hands at the ready to work her magic.

“Alright, we got Sam Holby, Terrence Crammer, Vincent Lang, Matt Parker, and Jill Olger,” Derek said, reading off the names he found.

Penelope typed swiftly on her keys, doing cross-checks with all the things she’s been given so far. “And no, and I’m cross-checking those with Hotch’s list of puppeteers. And no.”

“So I’ve got eight more names, some written on pads in the back, others are frequent customers,” JJ’s voice was heard next.

“All right,” Derek said to JJ. “Penelope we need you and Y/N to trace the phone lines here, too, see if this guy Tucker called the unsub today.”

-----------

“How’s your vegetarian pad thai?” Y/N asked as she gathered more of her own food in her chopsticks.

“Amazing,” Penelope took another bite of her food. The phone began to ring. Penelope used the ends of her chopsticks to answer.

“Garcia,” Hotch’s voice was heard through the phone.

“Yes, sir,” Penelope answered, swallowing her food.

“Were there any incidents involving a father and son in the puppeteers’ histories that you found?”

Penelope set down her box of noodles and began to type on her computer. “Father and son. Okay, no, it’s coming up empty.”

“What about twenty or thirty years ago?” Rossi’s voice asked.

At the new parameters, Penelope got a hit. “Well, there was a pretty famous puppeteer in the late fifties, named Alex Rain.”

“He died in a robbery,” Y/N read from the article on the screen.

“Yeah, his son witnessed it.”

“What was the son’s name?” Blake asked.

“Adam Rain, mom died ten years ago,” Penelope answered.

“Cross-check Adam’s name with the names of the patrons in the clothing store,” Spencer ordered.

Penelope began to type again and a huge list of callers appeared on the screen. “Oh, I got a big ‘ole hit. Okay, so Mr. Rain called Tucker, the owner, forty times in the last month.”

“Damn, I don’t think I even call my mom that much,” Y/N commented, taking another bite of her food.

“Yeah, check this-- his father was most well-known for a pair of puppets named Mitch and Steph, the male one had dark black hair, the female was a redhead.” The picture of the two puppets was on the screen as Penelope began to describe their features.

“And they’re creepy,” Y/N sang as her eyes widened at the picture.

“Do you have an address?” Rossi asked.

“Last known was a building on Pine Street, that used to be his father’s theater,” Penelope said as the information on Adam Rain came up on the screen.

“And guess what he drives,” Y/N said.

“A blue van, call us back in the car,” Hotch’s voice said as he began to walk out of the room.

When Penelope hung up the phone, the sound of her door opening startled them. Y/N instinctively reached for her gun on her belt and Penelope jumped. Walking into the room was Erin Strauss, her normal pristine self.

“Agent Y/L/N, may I speak with you in my office please,” Strauss said.

It wasn’t a question, it was an order. Y/N nodded and stood up from her chair. “I’ll be back,” she said to Penelope who just nodded absently, not sure what was going on.

When Strauss entered her office, Y/N followed a few paces behind her. She was very confused about what was happening at the moment. Strauss knew they were on a case and she wouldn’t pull her away unless it was important.

“Have a seat.” Strauss gestured to the chairs in front of her desk.

Y/N slowly walked over to the seat on the left, nervous about what was happening. “Okay, I’m going to be blunt, ma’am, what’s going on?”

“Well, I really didn’t want to do this,” Strauss began with a sigh.

Y/N’s mind jumped to the worse. “I’m not fired am I?”

“Oh no,” Strauss reassured her. She was a bitch, but Y/N was too good of an agent to fire due to budget cuts. “When I asked you to move to fugitive task force, I was hoping you would say yes so we could use that as your cover.”

“My cover? For what?”

“A couple of months ago, there was a letter left here, it told about how someone in the FBI was being watched,” Strauss began to explain. “The Director and I wrote it off as a simple ‘trying to scare’ type thing. It wasn’t until later that we realized that wasn’t the case. We received another note, with very specific detail about how someone wanted to hurt not just this one person in the FBI, but their whole team.”

“Do you think this has to do with Caroline?” Y/N asked, curious if that was a road Strauss had traveled down and looked into.

“We looked into it, it’s not.”

Y/N let out a sigh of relief, glad she didn’t have to deal with her again.

“This unsub has been stalking a member of your team, the last letter we received was about someone in the BAU.” Strauss handed the letter to Y/N in its evidence bag.

Y/N took the letter from her hand, looking over the neat handwriting. “Well, by the handwriting I can tell this is probably a female.”

“Yes, I also thought that. There’s one other thing, if you notice in the letter, she mentions everyone on the team except you.”

Y/N looked closely at the letter, reading over everyone’s name except hers. “Do you think I am the one she’s after.”

Great, not again, Y/N thought to herself.

“Well, that was my initial thought, but then we got a break,” Strauss said. “We found out that these letters were coming from a student who attends George Town, due to a series of mysterious suicides that we believe are connected to this. George Town is a school we frequently have guest speakers at, especially from the BAU.”

Now Y/N was beginning to catch on. “Except me, I have never guest spoken.”

“Yes. We are assuming this unsub has only done research on those who have spoken at the school. This is where you come in. I would like you to go undercover as a girl’s advisor to get some insight and hopefully find out who this unsub is.”

Y/N looked at Strauss with wide, surprised eyes. “Oh-uh-okay, is this a ‘you can if you want to?’ or a ‘this is what you’re doing now’ thing.”

“A little of both, but I believe you are the best hope of finding out who this is with little to no injury involved.”

“How long would I be undercover for?”

“Depends on what you find and how close you’re getting.” Strauss leaned on her desk, seeing that Y/N’s last question prompted that she was interested.

“Okay, and will I have contact with my team?”

The sigh Strauss let out was not giving to Y/N’s hope. “This is the part where I believe you were going to say no. You would start tonight if you say yes, you would get some things from your home, leave your cell phone with me, I give you a new one and you will have no contact with your team unless absolutely necessary for an extended period of time.”

“What determines this extended period of time?”

“Your findings within the first month.”

“So at least a month.” Y/N knew she had to do this, after everything the team did to help her with Caroline, she couldn’t let this unsub get to them. But what about Spencer, or JJ, or Penelope? This was a hard decision she had to make, but she knew she’d be back.

“Okay, I’ll do it. But on one condition.”

--------------

Adam Rain had been caught. He had been in a coma for a long time due to a car accident. He had a Peter Pan syndrome where he woke up as a young boy again.

Spencer was bouncing on his toes. After his talk with Blake, he had found a new sense of confidence for the evening and he couldn’t wait to pop the question. He had the ring out the whole flight home, the box in his hands and absent mindedly played with it. He opened the box, admiring the ring he looked for for so long. It was simple, a thin gold band that had three small diamonds in a line on the top of the ring. It was perfect and he was so excited to give it to her.

The team arrived at Quantico that evening. Tired from the long case and excited to get home.

“Hey guys,” Penelope greeted everyone when they walked in the door.

“Hey Baby girl,” Derek greeted her, giving her a hug. When he pulled away he looked behind her and then back at her. “Where’s Wonder Woman?”

“I have no clue, I was hoping Boy Wonder knew because Strauss called her into her office earlier and I haven’t seen her since,” Penelope explained.

Spencer walked up to the two when he heard his nickname. “She hasn’t talked to me since we last called you.”

The three were now worried and confused, no knowledge of where Y/N was.

“I can answer that for you,” Strauss’ voice was heard as she walked into the room. Her announcement gained everyone on the team’s attention. “Agent Y/L/N has been assigned to an undercover assignment by me, starting right after the meeting we had earlier today.”

The team stood shocked, some with wide eyes and others with slack jaws.

“I’m sorry, what?” JJ asked strongly.

“The case is strictly need to know, but she wanted me to tell you that is where she was so you wouldn’t have to worry about her running off or having you think she left you.” The last part of her announcement was directed to Spencer, who Y/N knew would need to hear that until he got home.

“Erin,” Rossi said, anger and annoyance rising in him.

“Dave, the decision has been made, she was the best person for this job. You will have no contact with her unless extremely necessary for at least one month-” Strauss held up her pointer finger- “She told me to tell you that this was an extremely hard decision for her to make but she needed to do it to protect lives.”

With that, Strauss gave a curt nod to Hotch and started to walk to his office. Hotch followed, his walk angry as she had pulled someone from his team without telling him first.

“Reid,” Penelope said when she looked over to the man in shock.

He stood still, mouth closed and eyes pricking with tears he wouldn’t let fall. The ring in his pocket felt heavy now, like it carried all the weight of the world that just left him.

“Spence,” JJ reached her hand to touch his shoulder.

Spencer jerked at the touch and began to walk away. “I need to get home.”

His whole trip home, his hope was that what had just happened was just some fever dream. It was all fake from his nerves over the past couple of days and he’d get home and she’s been on the couch waiting for him.

But when he walked in the door, he was met with a quiet empty apartment. He let out a breath. It sounded like a scoff almost, and then he wanted to start laughing. Because this was fucking hilarious and crazy.

This was crazy, Y/N was gone.

When he closed the door and flipped the light switch, the corner of his eye caught a glimmer. His head jerked in the direction of the sparkle.

Sitting on the table was a white sheet of paper, folded in half and ‘Spencer’ scrawled on the front of it. Beside it sat the gold band Y/N had gotten him.

Slowly, Spencer dropped his bags by the door and walked over the letter. He picked up the letter, not daring to touch the gold band that sat beside it.

“Dear Spencer: My love, my sweet angel, my bub, I know you’re very confused right now, I am too. As Strauss told you, I was pulled away on an undercover mission. Sadly I cannot tell you what this is about due to the fact I am liable not to and technically I wasn’t even supposed to write this letter to you but you know me, I couldn’t leave without leaving something for you.”

Spencer laughed, a small tear he let escape running down his face. Of course, Y/N wouldn’t leave without giving him a goodbye somehow.

“I know it isn’t fair that I am leaving you a letter, and trust me I didn’t want to leave you one. You’ve been left too many from people leaving you-- Gideon, your dad. But here’s the one thing that’s different, I am coming back. After this is all over I will be back.”

Spencer’s lip quivered, not letting any tears be held back anymore.

“Tell the team that I love them and I’m sorry that I had to leave like this. I know they were all probably shocked and some were probably angry. Hell, I would understand if you were angry. I would be.”

Spencer was angry. He was angry that she was chosen for this, that she had to leave.

“So you’re probably wondering, ‘why is there a ring here?’. Well, tonight I was going to propose to you, and it was going to be so great. Penelope and I have been discussing it all day on my speech, the delivery, the whole nine yards. But I guess that won’t happen now, but if you want to hear about it then ask her, she’ll tell you.”

Spencer looked down at the ring. The simple gold band sat there and was screaming at him to pick it up. Like if he wore it, Y/N would be right beside him.

“I don’t know if you’ll wear it, but I left it as a promise to you. So you’ll know I’ll be back to marry you soon. That this is just a bump in our story, and the rest of if we will spend together.”

Spencer danced the ring between his thumb and index finger. He looked at it all around, noticing their initials on the inside. He smiled at them, making his heart soar at how thoughtful she was.

“So, technically I am not supposed to do this, but I can’t stand the thought of not being able to talk to you for a month. I’ve thought about the safest way to do this. It’s the same way I’d talk to London in college when Caroline was...anyway. At the end of this letter is the number of the cell Strauss gave me, it’s in code but I know you’ll figure it out quickly. I want you to go to a payphone, call the number, let it ring twice, hang up, and then wait for me to call back. It’s safe and we can only do it maybe three times a week just to be cautious.”

Spencer made extra sure to remember each step, already excited to use it so he could talk to her.

“I have to go now, Spence. I love you more than anything you’ll ever know. I found a quote that is fitting for when I was going to propose, so I’ll just leave it here: Thomas Merton once wrote, ‘Love is our true destiny. We do not find the meaning of life by ourselves alone, we find it with another.’ See you soon, Y/N.”

At the end of the letter was the code for the number. It was easy for Spencer to decipher, he didn’t even need to write anything down. He took a mental note of the number and was ready to use it first thing in the morning.

He then looked back at the ring. He had set it back down at some point and picked it back up again. It sat in the palm of his hand.

He was almost scared to put it on now. Then he thought about her words, it’s a promise I’ll be back. With slow, cautious movements, Spencer slipped the band on his ring finger. The ring felt at home there and he had no plans of taking it off.

Tag List (let me know if you want to be added!!):

@throughparisallthroughrome @word-scribbless @nintendumbfuck @confused-and-really-hungry @andiebeaword @itsarayofsunshine @baby-i-am-fireproof @abitofeverythinggg @nanocoool @marceline-is-my-spirit-animal @fancyfaucet @im-a-raging-gay @atletino @mo-whore @peterparkersdestiny @bandsandjill @mbowles23-blog @sarcasm-n-insomnia @citrussirus @nerual222 @april-14-blog @reidloversisforever @heavenlyholland @justawildmarebae @sana-li @thesailbells @l0ve-0f-my-life @spencer101reid @spencersdolore @delicateprunecashpony @sader12345678 @dashlilymark @mysticalmagicmoon @onebigfangirlworld @saturn-mp4 @hurricanejjareau @thatweirdo466 @angryknightstatesmantrash @nograciass @danandphilfan6 @la-vie-en-amour1 @squirrellover1967 @reidswords @skyirates @spideyspencer @harrypressman @justine-en @absolutelynotsophie @dr-reid-ismyspiritanimal @mailikestruecrimetoomuch @dadchi-oya @marley1773 @lashtonandmalumsbaby @jesus-christ-ashtons-arms @lulurose17 @flowers-in-fields @multifandombb @aimzonicles97 @criminaly-supernatural @aperrywilliams @n1ghtsh4d3-67 @thatsonezesty13

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #Criminal Minds #criminal minds meme #criminal minds imagine #criminal mids fic #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch hotchner #derek morgan #derek morgan imagine #Penelope Garcia #emily prentiss

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etherrealoblivion · 4 years

Text

A Joint Effort

Prompt: I just thought of this for some reason, but imagine everyone in the bau all high as fuck, in one room together.

Words: 1,905

A/N: for the bad b*tches in my MGG group chat. Love y’all.

Content Warning!!!!: Drugs (weed)

MASTERLIST

It had started out a regular Friday evening. Well, as regular as a Friday evening could be for the sorry few that worked in the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI.

After a particularly draining case, the team decided a night out would be the best way to unwind. More precisely, Morgan decided and convinced the others with much help from Garcia.

So that’s how a mother, a genius, a spy, a hacker, a playboy, a boss, and a millionaire all ended up stumbling home, drunk off their asses down the empty streets of D.C.

Sadly, J.J, who had been the designated driver, didn’t get the memo until after her fourth drink. Garcia, the messenger, was a little late on delivering it. By then, everyone else was already wasted so Hotch figured it was time to go home. Or, actually, to crash at Rossi’s place. He was nearby and had enough bedrooms for everyone to rest peacefully, although the team had a slight notion that the party wasn’t quite over.

This thought was confirmed quite quickly for as everyone plopped down amongst the plethora of cozy chairs in Rossi’s living room, Morgan found the millionaires liquor cabinet, shamelessly helping himself to the array of drinks there.

However, before he could indulge too far, a small wooden box caught his eye as he was about to select a fifty-year scotch.

Alcohol didn’t seem to affect his profiling skills as he deduced what was in the box as if there was a note written on it.

Smirking, Morgan wondered whether or not his team members would. Rossi would, for sure. Garcia, definitely probably. Hotch? Reid? Hmm.

“Hey, Rossi,” Morgan said, putting on a voice of drunken interest, “what’s this box, here?”

Rossi’s head snapped to where he was standing, confirming his suspicions. Before he could speak, Reid piped up, stammering slightly.

“That’s an 1870’s oakwood Captain James box. Collectors quality. Only four hundred were made.”

“Isn’t that a lot?” Garcia asked, taking off her heels.

“Yes, for the era. But three hundred and seventeen were lost to the ocean on the shipwreck of the Casterberous. Interestingly enough--”

“Actually,” Morgan butted in, slowly opening the box and smiling as he saw what was in it, “What I was more interested in was what was in the box.”

Rossi, always composed, shrugged and stood walking towards morgan.

“What can I say? In our line of work, one tends to need to . . . destress every now and again.”

Hotch snorted, finally realizing what the mystery box contained. Dave had told him of his habit, but Hotch never really given it much thought. Everyone had their vices.

“What’s in it?” Prentiss said, trying to steal a glimpse.

“Wait . . .” Garcia paused for a moment, shot Morgan a look to which he smirked knowingly, then burst into laughter, clutching her sides and rolling back on the couch.

J.J looked from Garcia to Rossi, the latter standing with his hands in his pockets, looking sheepish. She quickly put two and two together.

“Oh my god!”

“What?” Reid was still confused. “What, what is it? What have I missed?”

Morgan raised his eyebrows at Rossi questioningly to which the older man nodded softly. So Morgan placed the box, lid open, on the coffee table. So that everyone could see the set of pre-rolled cigarettes laying on purple satin within.

Prentiss smiled.

“Well, well, well. David Rossi, do my eyes deceive me, or is that Acapulco gold?”

Everyone but Reid laughed, who was looking at the cigarette curiously.

“I don’t understand. Cigarettes? Prentiss used to smoke, I don’t see the big deal.”

J.J. pat his head.

“You’ll learn, Spence. You’ll learn. May I?” she directed the last part to Rossi, gesturing toward the box.

He waved a hand.

“Be my guest. As long as no one is uncomfortable?” he phrased it as a question.

Murmurs of assent filled the room, everyone but Reid and Hotch reaching for one of the neatly rolled cigarettes in the box and Rossi going to fetch his lighter and put on a quiet record for background noise.

“J.J? You don’t smoke tobacco?”

Morgan laughed. Pretty boy was a genius at most things. This not being one of them.

“Spence,” J.J. took the lighter from Rossi and lit her cigarette, a pungent smell quickly filling the room, “it’s not tobacco.”

A look of comprehension finally found its way onto Reid’s face, causing everyone looking at him to shake with laughter.

“Oh.”

Morgan slapped him on the back, handing him a lit joint. “‘Oh’ is right. Now listen, no peer pressure, Pretty Boy. You get uncomfortable, stand up, and go to bed, no judgment. But, if you wanna chill out for a while, get that genius mind to calm down, take a puff of this.” And Morgan brought his joint to his lips, steadily taking a drag and blowing it out with practiced expertise.

A moment of hesitation was all Spencer needed, quickly reassured by the ease with which his friends and colleagues began to smoke. Then, he brought the joint to his mouth and took a deep breath.

As expected, he coughed immediately, a horrible hacking noise as blue-ish smoke expelled from his mouth and nose.

His friends started to giggle, already feeling the high hit them.

Hotch finally decided to join in after a few minutes of watching everyone enjoy themselves. Reid recovered surprisingly quickly, barely coughing the second and third times and not at all by the fourth.

It suddenly occurred to everyone that they’d all been silent the whole time. Garcia, of course, was the first to rectify this.

“Okay, when was the last time everybody got high? Go.” She pointed to her left where J.J sat sprawled out against her.

“Um. Oh god. Three months before I found out I was pregnant with Henry. Although I’m not sure you’d count that as ‘high’. It was one hit from a bong at this party I went to.”

“A party?!” Prentiss said, surprised. “When? Where?”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes!” everyone exclaimed.

“Okay! Jeez. It was when we had that weekend off after the Garner case. I went down to New Orleans to see Will and . . . one thing led to another.”

“Is that why you kept texting me asking for pictures of my cat?” Garcia giggled, absentmindedly petting J.J’s hair.

“Yeah. . . I wanted to make sure it wasn’t a robot. Don’t ask.”

After a bit of laughter, everyone recovered and it was Hotch’s turn next.

“Four years ago. After the Nieman case in Tampa. Haley was the one who suggested it. It did help me relax, but the taste is something I couldn’t stand.”

Everyone nodded slightly, accepting this answer as valid.

Rossi shrugged, gesturing to the now empty box. Clearly he had smoked recently, probably within the month so the question passed to Morgan.

“I’m gonna be honest. I . . . partake whenever we have free time.”

“So. . . ?” J.J asked.

Morgan sighed.

“Last weekend.”

Wow. Garcia started to laugh which caused a domino effect on the rest of the team. Reid was finally relaxing into the feeling, laughing along with his friends.

“Y’all think that’s real funny, huh?” Morgan said, unable to stop the smile forming on his face.

“Yep,” Reid said through another puff, suppressing a cough. “Only because it makes so much sense.”

“Oh yeah?” Morgan got a mischievous look in his eye. “Okay, Prentiss. Your turn.”

Emily, who had been laughing heartily, suddenly froze, looking nervously around the room.

“I, er, I don’t recall.”

Morgan chuckled.

“Well then, allow me to refresh your memory. Last weekend I’m minding my own business when I get a call from Emily here. She’s going off about how expensive movie tickets are and how it’s cheaper to buy back-alley weed. I tell her not to worry, I’ve got my hands on the good stuff right here. Needless to say, within the hour we were both high off our asses.”

Prentiss had turned bright pink, taking a sip from a water bottle she’d withdrawn from her purse. Looking back, she should have known better than to hide her face from a group of seasoned profilers.

“Oh, damn, Emily!” Garcia bounced on the couch, shaking J.J who groaned. “Why didn’t you tell me! You know I am always one phone call and thirty-five minutes away.”

Emily glanced at Derek, smirking. “That’s the problem, Pen. Sometimes you can be a little . . . much.”

Garcia gasped softly, “Emilia, you offend me. I’m offended. I’m chill! I’m a chill person,” she added, a little shrilly, sending the group into yet another fit of laughter.

“What? Look at me now! I’m relaxing on the couch, totally at peace.”

In her defense, she was. Absentmindedly braiding J.J’s hair and working out the knots in it. One sharp pull made J.J wince.

“Ow! Yeah, ‘at peace’ my ass.”

“Shush! Reid, go.”

Spencer opened his mouth but Morgan spoke first.

“Aw, come on, Baby Girl. You saw how Pretty Boy here coughed. He hasn’t touched a drug in his life.”

“I-”

“Oh, come on. People don’t only cough when they’ve never smoked before. Besides, he went to Caltech AND got a doctorate at MIT. Those Ivy Leagues have the most toked up students anyway.”

“Well, I-”

“Nah,” Morgan interrupted. “Pretty Boy’s been sober his whole life.”

“Actually . . .”

Morgan’s head snapped to Reid, as quick as he could under the influence. Which, in retrospect was not all that quick.

“Kid. You’re telling me you’ve done this before?”

Reid went even pinker than Emily had.

“Not, uh. Not exactly. I’ve certainly never smoked a joint with anyone. But, well. That wasn’t the question.”

“What was the question?” Garcia asked.

“You’re the one who asked it!”

She simply shrugged, reapplying her lipstick smoothly. The high was slowly wearing off everyone.

“You asked when the last time everyone got high was,” Reid explained, his hands gesticulating wildly. “While I have never smoked - really no one should, the things it does to your lungs - I have ingested marijuana before.”

“What!?” Morgan and Garcia exclaimed, prompting an even louder Shh from Rossi. Hotch was smirking softly, lighting several candelabras around the room, attempting to clear the air of the stench.

“What?” Reid asked, annoyed at their shock. “I might be nerdy but I’m not a prude.”

Prentiss laughed and remarked to J.J, “Next thing he’s gonna be telling us he’s not a virgin.”

“Actual-”

“Stop, right there, kid,” Morgan butted in, settling down on the couch for the night. “That’s not the kinda thing I wanna hear about right now.”

“But you were curious about me getting high before!”

“Yeah, that’s your business.”

Prentiss butted in, “Besides, we should just focus on the now. It seems while we’ve all partook before, but never together like this. This time it’s a… a…”

“A joint effort,” Reid said, glancing around the room with a playful smile.

A collective groan followed his quip and several pillows were thrown his way.

“You’re lucky I’m barely stoned,” Garcia said. “I’d come over there and give you a proper pillow fight.”

Rossi leaned forward over the old box.

“Ladies, gents,” he lifted the purple satin lining revealing several more pre-rolled marijuana cigarettes, “the night is still young.”

And so, the FBI profilers hotboxed David Rossi’s living room, laughing about nonsense and learning much more than they’d wanted to about Spencer Reid’s sexual history

#criminal minds #spencer reid #emily prentiss #derek morgan #jennifer jareau #aaron hotchner #hotch #penelope garcia #david rossi #fanfic #fanfiction #thank you alanna

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itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto · 4 years

Text

Poker and Cigar Night

Authors note: Hello everyone! This is my first time writing Fiction in about ten years, so please be aware, it may not be great! This has been in my drafts for a month or so now, and I finally wrote it as the full thing tonight! Please enjoy!

--- / Italics = Time skip

Notes:

Series 5 slight spoiler and a reference to Brooklyn 99.

Possible triggers: Swearing, smoking (cigarettes), drugs (weed & cocaine) and poker.

Word count: 2K

Another week is almost over at the FBI and the team are all wrapping up the last case, back at Quantico. Y/N sighs, one more statement to type up and she is done. She rubs her temples, and looks at her empty coffee cup, then to her boyfriend Spencer, who is working opposite her and looks just as tired as her. “Would you like another coffee boo?” She asks grabbing her mug and putting her other hand out for Spencer’s.

“Yes please pumpkin.” He replies, kissing her hand meant for the mug which makes her giggle and then he places the mug gently in her hand. Even after dating Spencer for 3 years nearly, Y/N is just both still as in love with Spencer as she was back then. Spencer has always called her ‘Pumpkin’ as she loves Halloween just as much as him, and he will do anything to make her smile, especially as they deal with such awful things at work.

Y/N goes over to the coffee machine, where Penelope and Derek are there kissing. “Come on, not in front of the coffee machine guys.” Y/N groans, pretending the coffee machine has eyes and covers it.

“Not like you and pretty boy haven’t kissed over here whilst waiting for the coffee to brew cupcake.” Morgan chuckles, as Y/N rolls her eyes. She and Derek grew up on the same tough neighbourhood, and are best friends, having always had each-others backs since they were little.

“Do you guys want a cup or are you going to continue snogging?” Y/N asks topping up her mug keeping it black and adding an unhealthy amount of sugar for her sugar loving boyfriend.

“Yes please!” Penelope says, handing you her cactus mug and Derek’s mug which you top up.

“Before I forget to tell you, Rossi is hosting his monthly poker and cigar night tomorrow, are you and pretty boy coming?” Derek asks taking a sip of his coffee.

“Can you bring a dessert if you come? I have a craving for your cheesecake.” Penelope says to you, as she sips her coffee. Everyone loves these nights, it is a chance for you all to un-wind, get drunk and stay in Rossi’s mansion. Last time Emily brought some cocaine and you all got a bit giggly.

“I’m in.” You smile, “I’ll see what Spencer is doing but as far as I’m aware, he has no plans.” You grab yours and Spencer’s mugs again, and Spencer’s desk. “Boo, Rossi is holding another poker night tomorrow, are you in? I’m going, and I’ll be making a cheesecake.” You say, putting Spencer’s mug down at his desk, noticing he changed his background (or asked Penelope to do it) to a photo of you and him on Halloween nearly 3 years ago, the same day he asked you to be his girlfriend. The photo always makes you smile, because you are both such goofs for Halloween.

Spencer adjusts his crutches by his desk, so they don’t fall on you as you sit on the edge of his desk, and sips his coffee. “Sure.” He smiles as you give Derek a thumbs up, “Would you like to stay over tonight pumpkin? I don’t like being alone in my apartment at the moment, especially after being shot.” Spencer says to you, with puppy eyes.

“Of course, boo.” You yawn and take a long sip of your coffee. Spencer kisses your hand again, as you giggle looking down at your converse.

“How many statements do you have left pumpkin?” Spencer asks. “Just one, plus a German statement translation for Rossi.” You smile, you are nowhere near as clever as Spencer, but you do speak 10 languages fluently.

Hotch walks over. “Are you going tomorrow Hotch?” You ask him, getting up from Spencer’s desk, as Hotch nods, “Of course Y/N.” He smiles at you. For some reason, Hotch only seems to smile at you, and it is clear you are his favourite.

“Ah, wonderful! I shall make pasta for all and I hope it’s lemon cheesecake Y/N.” Rossi winks at you.

At Spencer’s apartment the following evening…

“There.” You smile, adjusting Spencer’s tie. “All handsome.” As you go on your tip toes to kiss Spencer on the lips, which Spencer returns.

“You look stunning Y/N, I can’t believe you are all mine.” He smiles even wider. Whilst dating Spencer, you wore make up and he always told you that you looked beautiful without it, and for nearly 3 years now, you haven’t worn it since. “Are you nearly ready pumpkin?” Spencer asks you, as you nod booping his nose, and go back to putting your hoop earrings in.

15 minutes later, you get in the car Rossi sent for you holding Spencer’s hand with one, and the cheesecake with the other. The driver puts your bags with spare clothes and pyjamas for you both in the boot.

---

After half an hour, you arrive at Rossi’s mansion. “I’ll never tire of how big it is.” You say, holding Spencer’s hand. “Title of your sex tape.” Spencer smirks at you, making you blush slightly. “You’re such a fucking dork. I mean the mansion.” You say, giggling at the Brooklyn 99 reference, which is one of your favourite shows to watch together. You walk to the door slowly as Spencer says, “I am your fucking dork.” and uses his cane to ring the bell.

“Ah, there you cuties are!” Penelope says, as she opens the door with JJ.

“She brought pudding!” JJ smiles taking the cheesecake off you to put in the fridge.

“I also brought him. He says he is a pretty boy, so I said he can come.” You smile as Spencer blushes and nuzzles his head into your shoulder as you walk into the mansion.

“What would you like to drink boo?” You ask Spencer, helping him sit down.

“I have beer, wine and fruit cocktails.” Rossi says pouring a glass of wine for himself.

“Whatever you’re having pumpkin.” Spencer says, putting his crutches next to him as you nod, and take a beer for you both, handing one to him.

The night progresses, and Rossi knocks it out the park, as usual with a fantastic pasta dish. “Grazie Rossi.” You say as he hands out your cheesecake, as everyone tucks in immediately.

“This cheesecake is so good Y/N.” Penelope says as she licks her plate.

“Shit me it’s good.” Emily says taking another slice.

“I got to lick the bowl when she made me one yesterday, for recipe testing purposes.” Spencer says, squeezing your hand gently.

“You’re so lucky kid. A fine woman and one that makes desserts.” Derek says

“I know.” Spencer smiles, nodding as he kisses your cheek.

“I’m right here chocolate thunder. I can hear you.” Penelope says glaring at Derek.

“Poker time everyone.” Rossi says as he hands out the cards.

Two games have gone by, and Spencer has won them both. You’re all getting pretty drunk now too, as the alcohol keeps flowing. “Y/N, please don’t let Spencer win the third game.” Aaron says, in a typical Dad tone.

“Sir, I cannot control my pretty boy.” Y/N says as seriously as she can without giggling.

“Except in bed.” A drunk Spencer whispers in your ear, making you blush.

By the third game…

“Oh fuck yes, come to Mama.” You smile, as you finally win a game and take your winnings as everyone groans.

“I think that calls for a cigar.” Rossi says, “Boys, let’s go over to the tree and leave the ladies alone for a bit. Ladies, my staff will bring you over cigars.” He informs.

“Oh good, I can get these out now.” Emily says getting some joints out.

“I’ll take some of those for evidence.” Aaron says taking a couple.

“Evidence? Suuureee.” JJ slurs making you all giggle.

By the tree…

“I can’t believe I have been with Y/N for nearly three years now.” Spencer says as he lights his cigar, passing the lighter to Derek.

“Thanks kid.” Derek says lighting up. “That means I have been with baby girl for nearly 7.” He says trying to work it out in his head.

“Take it from me Derek, always remember.” Aaron says as he takes a puff from his cigar.

Rossi nods in agreement, “You love her don’t you, kid?” He asks Spencer who is staring at you from the tree.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t be walking as well as I am if it wasn’t for Y/N. She’s been to all of my appointments and therapy with me.” Spencer smiles and lets out a puff of smoke from his cigar.

The guys continue chatting meanwhile, at the girls table…

“I always feel like I am back working at a Gentleman’s club when I have a cigar.” Y/N says, remembering back to when she worked at one in her late teenage years.

“I feel fancy as fuck.” Penelope says finishing off her glass of wine and pours everyone another glass.

“You are fancy as fuck.” You, JJ and Emily somehow all manage to say at the same time, before laughing.

---

“They are clearly having too much fun over there. We should go back.” Hotch says, hearing the girls laugh at yet another joke.

“Yeah, the joints are out now.” Derek says

“Last time Y/N was stoned she wrote a poem about why she loved me and told it to me in Russian. I still have it somewhere.” Spencer says, laughing at the memory of the last Poker night you all had. “Isn’t that right pumpkin?” He asks wrapping his arm around your waist, as you giggle.

“Yeah. I don’t know what you said, but yeah. Totally remember.” You say as you pass the joint to him, which he takes a puff of and sits back in his chair and invites you to sit on his lap.

“I don’t want to hurt you boo.” You say to Spencer.

“You won’t pumpkin. I promise.” Spencer says softly, as he tucks your hair behind your ear.

“What a fun night this has been.” Aaron says, as he sips his whiskey.

“Did you use a positive word Hooch?!” Penelope says, sipping a cocktail and putting the umbrella from it in Aaron’s hair.

“Yes, I did.” Aaron says glaring at you, as you take a photo before Aaron notices it’s there.

“I’m so glad this case is over. We all needed this to unwind. Thank you Rossi.” You say to him

“You’re welcome Y/N.” Rossi smiles as he pours himself another whiskey.

You light up a cigarette and snuggle into Spencer’s arms as you are a bit cold. “Aw, you cold pumpkin?” Spencer asks you, wrapping his jacket around your shoulders as you shudder.

“Can I take one pumpkin? I left my cigarettes in my work jacket.” Spencer asks you.

“You don’t need to ask boo.” You insist and hand him one with your lighter.

An hour later, you all call it a night, and take a guest room each.

“That was such a lovely evening.” You say to Spencer as you get out of your dress, and into your pyjamas.

“It was pumpkin.” Spencer says as he takes his mis-matched socks off and gets into bed, opening his arms for you to cuddle into.

You cuddle into Spencer’s arms, “I love you Spence.” You smile looking up at him.

Spencer kisses your nose and smiles, “I love you too Y/N.” He smiles before biting his lip.

“What is it boo?” You ask, noticing him bite his lip, a sign of him being nervous about something that is on his mind.

“I was just thinking... It’s ok if you don’t want to. I’ve really appreciated you staying with me whilst my knee recovers, helping me shower, go to all of my appointments, see my Mum with me or on my behalf, helping me get ready, being a fucking amazing girlfriend...” Spencer began. “Would you like to move in with me?” He asks

“I’d love to boo.” You smile up at him. “Goodnight.” You say kissing his lips.

“Goodnight pumpkin.” Spencer smiles returning the kiss. “How did I get so lucky?” He thought to himself, as you both went to sleep.

Taglist: @pumpkin-goob @hopebaker @aperrywilliams

*Part 2 coming soon!*

#spencer reid #spencer x reader #Criminal Minds #spencer reid fluff #Matthew Gray Gubler #my fics

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sapphicmsmarvel · 4 years

Text

JJ: Dear Sister

TW: drug abuse, mentions of depression and anxiety and mentions of sexual assault. Under the cut.

im really proud of this one, I actually created a story! like with a plot and motive, I really like it!

Being in the BAU and being away from your family was both a blessing and a curse, you were away from your mom and dad, your hometown and hometown friends. But the plus was, you were away from your sister.

Your half-sister was a full on piece of shit, now she wasn’t a piece of shit because she’s an addict (which is what most people assume when you say you don’t like your sister because then they find out she’s an addict and are like “well she needs your support”). Being an addict does not make her a shitty person because you know it’s a mental illness and these people need help.

Your sister is just a piece of shit, because her personality sucks. Not because of the drugs.

(a little author's note because I have Anxiety, addicts deserve all the help they can get and should never be put down for their mental illness. This sister just sucks, she is not a bad human being because of her being addicted to drugs. Okay continue)

You sister, Molly, used your father for his money to the point where even you had to intervene. She abandoned her kids to run off with some guy then had your dad come get her out of trouble, she has been arrested multiple times. She never takes responsibility for her actions and blames everyone else.

Part of recovery is taking responsibility and righting your wrongs. She on the other hand makes the wrongs worse by acting like a child when she is 30 years old.

So to escape her nagging and just the horrible mental space you get in whenever she’s around, you moved out to D.C. You went to the FBI academy, went back home to celebrate (which she didn’t come to when she was invited) and then you went back to work at Quantico.

All your anxieties about her left pretty soon after starting at your job. You knew she wouldn’t call you for help anymore considering you worked for the FBI, also met some amazing people.

Including your wonderful, beautiful girlfriend, JJ.

JJ had just gotten divorced when she met you, she was apprehensive at the thought of dating someone so soon, especially a girl, she’s always been bi but never dated a girl. But she woman’d up and asked you out.

Years flew by of you two dating, the kids loved you so much, JJ was shocked at how good you were with kids when to her knowledge, you were an only child. But, you felt guilt curdle in your gut for not telling her. So one night when the boys were finally in bed, you told her everything. From being the youngest, to dealing with your sister's addiction, your assault, your depression and anxiety, you told her the complete story. Every. Single. Chapter.

She had barely seen you cry, but she saw you bawl at this. She held you and calmed you down, you explained your fear of being judged for Molly’s actions because people might think you are the same to her just because you are half-sisters. You apologized for keeping it from her for years into your relationship.

“Yes, I wish you would have told me but not because I ‘deserve’ to know everything about your past. Because you were suffering in silence, part of being girlfriends is talking about things and getting support from each other. I love you, Y/N. That’ll never change.” She explained. “Also I want to meet your family, I want to meet the strong daughters of hers and be a part of their lives just like you are a part of Henry and Michaels.”

The next week you two scheduled a visit out there with the kids, you flew back to your home state, legs bouncing anxiously the entire time, she held your hand the whole way.

The visit went really well, your nieces were obviously protective of you because you were their mother figure while Molly was in rehab and countless relapses. You took care of them and they were very protective over their aunt.

But, they loved JJ and the boys, as did your entire family.

When you two went back to work, Morgan speculated that you eloped because of how glowy and light you two seemed. JJ explained that the two of you were just happy and got a mental break to yourselves.

Your nieces flew out to visit the next year, then JJ proposed the next week. Life was going great, until you got a call from one of Molly’s friends, “what’s wrong?” You answered, JJ looking up from the dining room table worriedly.

“Molly is with the FBI,” she whispered as if the FBI was listening.

Your stomach sank, “what do you mean?”

“..I shouldn’t be telling you.” “You called me Katy!” You yelled, your father's anger coming out. “What did she do that got the FBI involved?” Your phone buzzed again which meant you were getting another call, unfortunately this one was more important. You looked to see JJ on the phone.

Your thoughts went to the worse, Molly is at Quantico. But JJ was probably just talking to her mom. Her mom called a lot, yeah, that had to be it.

“She was running a drug scheme and got busted as well as several felonies.”

“Shit.” You sighed, “do you know where the bureau she’s located at is?”

“Some place called Quantico.”

No. No. No. No.

---------------------------------------------------------

The drive to Quantico was awful and anxiety ridden, JJ held your hand as she drove, the boys were at Will’s. You were calling your dad, telling him not to tell the girls until you know more because they lived with him. JJ explained that the phone call was Hotch saying the interrogation with your sister was happening and they wanted two of their best agents there. The buzzing during the phone call was Rossi. They didn’t know it was your sister, your last name was common, you’ve run into plenty of people in your line of work with your last name.

But you were told that you two looked similar, and they’re all smart but you know Reid will put it together before anyone else. Hell, he probably already has.

You pulled up to the building, there were a bunch of cop cars as well as other Agent vehicles. JJ didn’t hold your hand on the way up to where they all were, she didn’t want it to be obvious that you were in emotional turmoil.

You met them right before the interrogation room, you looked into the window, she looked horrible. Obviously, she was using again, she had all the signs, every memory from high school came back. Seeing her so skinny and malnourished from the drugs. Her hair was lackluster, it was flat and dull in color, her skin was deathly pale and had many skin breakouts due to how shot her entire system is.

Garcia filled all of you in everything she’s done. You already knew this though, Hotch gave you a weird look because you wouldn’t stop staring off into space (which showed your anxiety was spiraling bad). You also didn’t chime to help, you just shut down.

Hotch moved to behind you and touched your back lightly, “can I see you for a moment?” You two slipped out without making it obvious, you were sure none of them noticed but Hotch knows you like a daughter.

He shut the door to his office, “what’s going on, Y/N?”

You shrugged, “nothing.”

“I know you’re lying, did you and JJ have a fight that’s distracting you? Is your mental health acting up again?”

“No, God, No. And You know if we have problems we let them go at work to get things done.” You said defensively.

“Well, both of you are pretty closed off right now, usually you two never leave each other's sides during cases. You aren’t being attentive and aren’t chiming in. If it’s not your mental health or JJ, what is it?”

You bit your lip nervously, “that woman in there, she’s my half-sister.”

Well, it was clear he wasn’t expecting that, “It’s not in your file that you have siblings.” “That part was optional, I left it blank for a reason.”

“What happened?” He asked gently.

“She chose that life over her family, over her children. We paid for so many facilities and got her help multiple times. She threw it all away. I can’t forgive her for that.”

He nodded, “think you can go back in there?”

“I want that bitch locked away, Hotch. If you allow me to have that personal vendetta, then yes I want to go back there.” You said, determined. The fire in you igniting more. You would make sure she never saw her kids again.

He nodded and gestured towards the door, “lead the way.” -------------------------------------------

“I want to go in there to interrogate her.” You spoke, your voice void of any emotion, you got really good at hiding your emotions. Especially around her.

Rossi nodded, oblivious to the looks JJ was giving you, “sounds like a plan to me, you are the toughest I feel like right next to Hotch and Morgan.”

You smiled in response, it was light praise to you.

“Hey Y/N?” Reid asked.

“Yeah?” You looked at him, pushing a stray hair that fell in your face back.

“She looks a lot like you, and has the same last name.” He said gently.

“Yes, she’s my half-sister, Reid.” You said, looking at the entire team's reactions.

To say they were shocked would be an understatement.

“Are you sure you should go in there then?” Morgan asked.

You nodded, “I can do it. I don’t really care if she gets locked away. In fact, I think everyone in my family will be better off.”

Nobody said anything at your words, then Emily spoke, “go get the confession.”

---------------------------------------------

You stood outside the door, JJ came up and gave you a kiss, “you got this, babygirl.”

You blushed, then groaned, “great now I’m gonna be all flustered.”

She laughed, it made your heart lighter, “I love you.”

“I love you.” You said back, she kissed you again and walked away.

You waited a few moments to open the door, you could do this.

When you opened it, she looked up to see who it was, she saw you and gave you a confused look, “Y/N? What are you doing here?”

“If you came to my graduation party, you would know this is where I worked.” You said, like she was stupid.

“I knew you were in the FBI at least.” “Considering all the laws you’ve broken, I wouldn’t have thought so.” You threw the file on the table, “I’ve already told them about everything you did to my family, to your children. They aren’t so happy and everybody here is dedicated to locking you away. You can’t play the victim card anymore.” You spoke gently, trying to keep nerves out of your voice.

“Traitor.” She hissed.

“Hm, you knew you had a relative in the FBI yet you still kept doing bad things, you also have two kids you left for a crime ring so I don't think I’m the traitor here.” You said sitting across from her, you ignored the anxiety in your veins, you wanted to fiddle with your engagement ring but didn’t really wanna talk about JJ with this woman.

“Tell me what happened,” You leveled her with a look, that same look that your father would give her, the ‘i’m disappointed’ look, she had some feelings, and that look usually worked. “Why would I tell you?” You shrugged, “I don’t know, you bragged about getting kidnapped before so I wonder what you’ll brag about now, maybe seeing the inside of Quantico, maybe how they tried to break you and you resisted.”

“They sent my baby sister in to intimidate me,” she scoffed, “pathetic.”

“Oh that isn’t my job.” You smiled, you were going to enjoy this.

“Whose job is it?” She deadpanned, not having any of your shit, but you didn’t care. It was too much fun.

“The prison guard outside who’s waiting to guide you to prison.” You shrugged.You could feel the ‘Hotch’ look through the glass for telling her so much.

But you knew how to scare her, how to make her feel like shit. Guilt tripping was the best, hearing her lies, it was almost comical at how ridiculous they were.

“Your daughters are doing great by the way, they stayed here with me for a week.” It was a great week, Hotch granted you and JJ time off to spend time with them and the boys. JJ even asked for their permission to marry you, she proposed the next week on your anniversary.

She sighed and looked at the mirror, it was like she was staring down your team on the other side.

You sat in silence for a few minutes, before she spoke. “I’m sorry.” “No.” You simply said, shaking your head.

“No?” She asked.

“Don’t say you’re sorry just to say it, I don’t want some apology, you’re going to prison no matter what.” You shrugged. You forbade your emotions getting involved right now. JJ and the team were working overtime to get this confession out in time.

“Bullshit, I am not.” She insisted, her voice going up a couple octaves. She was nervous.

“What? You think you’re just gonna walk out of here? You have several federal offenses.” You opened her file, “carjacking, credit card fraud and identity theft alone are going to be up to 30 years in prison.”

“There’s no proof.” She was just spitting stuff out at this point, she was getting frazzled. Her eyes, eyes that you both shared from your father, were wide and full of fear.

“There are countless video files as well as credit card traces and millions of other traces. You’ve been on the list for years it seems.” You said, your eyes scanning over everything, every single mugshot, or street camera shot. All the proof was in the folder, you just needed a confession.

“I know you deal, so just confess and we can both get out of this awkward family reunion.” You spoke, your head resting against your hand.

Her eyes caught on the diamond, “you married?”

“Engaged.” You said calmly.

“What’s his name?” You rolled your eyes. “You know I’m gay, why do you keep insisiting that I’m into men?” “Oh yeah because you were assaulted, got it.” She acted like she just solved the greatest mystery.

Your stomach sank even further, “Your ignorance is baffling.”

“Ignorance?”

“Yup, you criticize other people's lives and then once someone throws it back at you, you get offended. You are the queen of hypocrites.” you paused, “that’s what your drug lord name should’ve been.”

“..What?”

“The Hypocrite Queen, has a bite to it, doesn’t it?” You tilted your head, feeling her vibes out.

“What?” She asked, her voice trembling. She was scared.

Good. A dark part of you whispered.

“Sure it doesn’t have as much fire as The Bite. But it’ll do.” You said, nonchalant. As if discussing paint colors.

“How do you know about any of this?”

You smiled, enjoying her fear and the fact that you’re winning. “You know, I wonder what Adam Davis would think about all of this, or Betty Walsh, Allie Simmers, Jaden Carsdale, Julia Brewermen.” You named off just a few of the people her drugs killed.

“I don’t know who those people are.” Her voice was barely above a whisper and she couldn’t make eye contact.

You nodded, “those are the people you killed.” “Drugs killed them.” She clarified without thinking.

The door behind you opened, you turned to see JJ, “we need you in Garcia’s office.” It was a horrible lie, but you knew it was all done. You nodded, you started getting up when you heard Molly speak.

“What about family, sissy?”

“That’s rich coming from you, you are the same woman who abandoned her children for some dude you met two days before you left.”

“That was the addiction.”

“No it wasn’t, you did the same thing when you were fifteen, with a twenty six year old might I add; right before you got pregnant with your first born. You weren’t addicted then, so don't blame an addiction you use as a crutch to get through life. Being an addict doesn’t mean you are automatically pardoned from everything you ‘ve done, to me, to dad, to your two kids who are fifteen years old and already know that they never want to see you again.”

“What have I done to you?” She had the nerve to look heartbroken.

Manipulative bitch

“Tried to manipulate me to say I took dads alcohol when I was fourteen, I told you I was gay and you asked if I was gay because I was assaulted. You used my mom and your dad for money, you lied to us, multiple times about so many things that I’ve lost count. You hurt people for your own gain, you are the most selfish person I’ve ever met. You know, I went into a career where I deal with horrible people and now I know why I’m so good at it, because I grew up dealing with a horrible person that was close to me. Someone who hurt multiple people that I love-” “I get it, I hurt people-” “I’m not done! You’ve judged me my entire life and treated me poorly and now, I get to enjoy the fact that I get to watch you get put behind bars forever. You will never see your children again, you will never use our family for money, and people will no longer pity you.”

You walked out without another word, JJ was right there, she gripped your hand because she knew you needed the support.

With Molly locked away, you could finally breathe and feel free from her problems. You made all the necessary phone calls to your dad. Booked a flight to go and explain everything to your nieces.

JJ would be by your side through it all.

#criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #jennifer jareau #jennifer jareau x reader #derek morgan #spencer reid #jj x reader #jennifer jareau x you #aaron hotchner #david rossi #emily prentiss

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saveyourblood · 4 years

Text

Stolen Dance | Ch. 7

Summary: “Maybe this was a pipe dream, a delusion you’d soon awake from or a phase you’d outgrow. You didn’t really care. For a brief moment in time, you were in love. That’s what you chose to care about. That what you made matter.”

The one where you’re a paramedic, he’s an FBI agent, and the time you spend together is borrowed.

Word Count: 4.9k

Song: Can’t Carry This Anymore - Anson Seabra

Warnings: Reader has PTSD, angst... ya know, the good stuff.

_____________________

Baby steps: your new two favorite words.

Healing was hard. You’ve known that for awhile; ever since your dad died, you were learning new ways to cope. What you haven’t known for awhile, though, was what it was like to heal with someone beside you.

When you were in pain, you tended to isolate yourself (hence your breakup). You internalized everything: thoughts, emotions, opinions… you became nothing but an empty shell of anger, and you expressed it in unhealthy ways. You wanted that to change. And Spencer wanted to help.

The two of you were in an awkward limbo of unknowing. Weeks had passed since you broke down in front of him, but the two of you haven’t kissed since the night before you broke up with him. You hugged a lot, and sometimes he slept over, but it was only to hold you. You weren’t sure if he was your boyfriend again. In your defense, though, he didn’t seem to know either.

Group therapy was his idea. It was something you contemplated in the past, but each time, you ultimately decided against it. Spencer managed to persuade you this time around, even finding a group for you to attend. Turns out, there’s a lot of veterans in DC.

“Hi,” you said as you stood up and waved awkwardly. “My name is Y/N. This is my first time here. I served as a medic in the Army for 5 years. For 18 months of that, I was deployed as a combat medic.”

“Where’d you tour?” An older man asked. The bottom of his cane was pressed to the floor, both hands holding it in place.

“Syria,” you answered.

A black gentleman let out a long, low whistle. “You must have seen some shit, girlie.”

You sat back down. “I didn’t come here for the coffee.”

Practically everyone in the group burst out into laughter. You thought you even saw the therapist chuckling to himself.

In this group, men outnumbered women by quite a bit; there were 3 women, including yourself, and 7 men. You could have gone to their all-women meeting later that week, but you decided to save that one for later. For now, your horizons were broad.

These men were gruff, blunt, and cut-and-dry — everything you expected from older vets that lived through what you did, maybe even worse. You could see why some female veterans felt more inclined to attend a women’s group; they were still tough as hell, but there was a certain courtesy they retained. It was as though men lost that courtesy somewhere along their service. You didn’t mind, though. Most of them reminded you of your grandfather.

“And who’s the handsome man you brought with you?” A woman with long, grey hair asked. Her smile was wrinkly, and her voice rough: a smoker, you assumed. She smiled at Spencer. “Your husband?”

You laughed lightly as you shook your head. “This is Spencer. He’s… my friend.”

The man with the cane snorted. “Friend. How do you feel about that, boy?”

“I’m quite alright with it,” Spencer assured.

He was a fish out of water in a setting like this. You were happy he merely introduced you to this place, let alone sat beside you the entire time. You were truly lucky to have someone like him in your life.

Turns out, you had a lot in common with basically everyone in the group. All of them were deployed at some point, mostly to Afghanistan or Iran. Some even served in the Vietnam War. Regardless of location, though, you all shared the same trait: none of you came back the same person you left as. Something happened. Something changed you.

“I try to be better,” Marge, the woman from before, said. “I try to do good, not let the past weigh me down. I helped a lot of people. I try not to think about the people I hurt.”

You pat her shoulder briefly. She brushed fingers with your hand, a silent way to show appreciation.

“What about you, kid?” Rudy, the man with the cane, asked. “You’ve been pretty quiet.”

You considered. “I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. It cost me everything.”

“That’s no explanation, sweetheart,” Abraham, the black man, said.

“Lucky for her,” the therapist intervened, “we’re out of time.”

“It takes at least two sessions to unlock my backstory,” you joked with a shrug. “Sorry, boys.”

You and Spencer stayed for a bit afterwards, drinking more cheap coffee and sharing a few lighter, easier words with other attendees. Marge managed to pull Spencer aside, and whatever the two were talking about, they both seemed interested. You smiled fondly.

When the men you were surrounded by noticed, they began to make a few jokes about how Spencer was clearly more than a ‘friend’. You took it as your excuse to leave.

“‘Two sessions?’” Spencer quoted on the way out. “Do you want to come back?”

You nodded, a small smile on your face. “Yeah, I think I do.”

Spencer put an arm around your shoulders. “I’m proud of you, Y/N.”

“Thank you, Spencer.”

For maybe the first time in your life, you were proud of you too.

_____________________

You and Spencer walked into the office to find what seemed like everyone except the BAU there. People in camouflage and suits alike swarmed in the bullpen, taking every possible floor space. You’d be lucky to make it to your desk, let alone find it empty.

“What the hell..?” you muttered to yourself.

Spencer briefly grabbed your hand. You quickly realized it was only to pull you across the room and to the stairs. However, you didn’t miss the slight squeeze he gave you.

“Guys, this is Dr. Linda Kimura, Chief of Special Pathogens at the CDC,” JJ explained when you and Spencer entered the briefing room.

“CDC?” you repeated in disbelief.

“Hello,” she greeted. “I’m sorry to meet under these circumstances.”

“What circumstances, exactly?” Spencer asked.

“We should get started,” Hotch said.

Everyone, including you, picked up a file from the table.

“Last night, 25 people checked into emergency rooms in and around Annapolis,” Garcia said. “They were all at the same park after 2PM last night. Within 10 hours, the first victim died. “Less than 16 hours later, 11 more are dead.”

“Lung failure and black lesions,” you said, reading the chart. “Anthrax?”

“Anthrax doesn’t kill this fast,” Spencer disagreed.

“This strain does,” Dr. Kimura said.

“What are we doing about potential mass targets?” Emily asked. “Airports, malls, trains?”

“There’s a media blackout,” Hotch replied.

“We’re not telling the public?”

“We’d have a mass exodus,” Derek said.

“The psychology of group panic would cause more deaths than this last attack,” Rossi agreed.

“Yeah, and if it does get out, whoever did this might go underground or destroy their samples,” Spencer said.

“Or he didn’t get the attention he wanted and might attack again,” Emily argued. “Doesn’t the public have a right to know that?”

“Next time, we’ll all be dead,” you said, mostly to yourself. You looked up to find everyone staring at you. “This attack was supposed to be quiet — he’s testing his strain, seeing how effective it is. The next time he strikes, too many people will be dead for anyone to keep it quiet.”

“The best way to stop a future attack is by profiling him as quickly as we can,” Hotch continued.

“What do we know about the strain?” Spencer asked Dr. Kimura.

“The spores are weaponized, reduced to a respiral ideal that attacks deep in the lungs,” She explained. “Odorless and invisible.”

“Sophisticated,” Rossi noted. “Only a scientist would know how to do that.”

“The size of these lesions are doubling in a couple of hours,” JJ said, looking at the before and after photos.

“It’s not the lesions I’m worried about,” Dr. Kiruma said, “it’s the lungs. We don’t know how to combat the toxins once they’re inside. The reality is, we may lose them all.”

“The remaining survivors have all been moved to a special wing at Walter Reed Hospital,” Garcia said. “Our offices will become a small command center.”

“We’ll be working with scientists from Fort Detrick,” Hotch said. “Determining what strain this is will help inform who’s responsible.”

“My team is in charge of treating all victims,” Dr. Kimura said.

“Reid, Y/L/N, go with Dr. Kimura to the hospital, interview the victims,” Hotch instructed. He gave everyone else their instructions before picking up a tray on the table. “Cipro. Everyone needs to take it before we go.”

“We don’t know if it’s effective against this strain, but it’s something,” Dr. Kimura said.

You and everyone else reached for a plastic cup containing two white pills. You also grabbed a cup of water from the table.

“This is really happening?” Prentiss asked in disbelief.

“We knew this could happen,” Hotch stated calmly. “We’ve prepared. We’ve done our homework. This is it.”

You outstretched your pill cup to Spencer’s. “Cheers?”

He clicked his cup against yours.

You followed Spencer into a hospital room. Dr. Kimura gave you both a basic rundown on her and her symptoms.

“Hi, Abby,” you greeted, a few steps behind Spencer. “My name’s Y/N, and this is Spencer. We work for the FBI. Is it alright if we ask you a few questions?”

Her lips were grey, and her eyes lost a lifelike sheen. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think a zombie was lying in bed rather than a person.

She nodded once.

“Abby, I’d like to do a memory recall exercise with you to take you back to the park, if that’s okay,” Spencer explained slowly and calmly.

She nodded again.

“I need you to close your eyes.”

Abby closed her eyes.

“Yesterday, you rode your bicycle to the park,” Spencer started. “How did the Sun feel on your skin, the breeze through your hair?” Can you describe for me what you heard, and the people you saw?”

“It was warm, windy…” she rasped out. “There were guys, football… kids… sin me free me.”

You and Spencer shared a look.

“Free me seen mock me free,” she stuttered out.

“Okay, you just rest,” you said gently. Abby tried to speak again, but you shushed her before she could. The poor girl looked terrified. “We’ll leave you alone.”

You walked out of the room, Spencer shortly behind you.

“What’s causing her aphasia?” He asked.

“Kimura said it has to do with the part of the brain the anthrax is attacking,” you answered. “...She also said a few other patients showed the same symptoms before they died.”

“We need to find that cure.”

You watched outside as Kimura tried to revive the 17th victim. She was unsuccessful.

“38-year-old history teacher,” she said with a sigh as she stepped out. “He’s leaving two kids behind.”

You and Spencer followed her to the nurse's station, where she began to look through some paperwork. “This strain is duplicating every 30-45 minutes. It’s poisoning the lungs, which causes massive hemorrhaging and organ failure.”

“Extreme bacterial amplification,” Spencer agreed.

“Huh,” you said absentmindedly. The gears in your head were turning.

“What are you thinking?” Spencer asked almost immediately.

“It’s… weird,” you said, mostly to yourself. “You have to test a strain like this, see what quantity is needed to get the desired effect. What kind of scientist tests on a large group of people in an uncontrolled atmosphere? This man is psychotic, but he’s not stupid.”

“Scientists work their way up to human testing; they start on rodents, advance to larger mammals, and then at some point, they start a very small trial run on a small number of people.”

“What are you saying?” Dr. Kimura inquired.

“This wasn’t a trial run,” you said, “and it wasn’t his first attack, either.”

“We would have known about a previous anthrax case,” she argued.

“Not if it presented itself as something else.”

Dr. Kimura managed to find you both an empty room to make a phone call.

“Two days ago, two people in two seperate Baltimore ERs and one person in a Philadelphia ER slipped into comas and died suddenly,” you said as soon as you heard the line pick up.

“Y/N, slow down,” JJ said. “Is Spencer with you?”

“Hello,” Spencer said awkwardly. “Who all are we talking to?”

“Me, Rossi, and Hotch,” JJ replied.

“The cause of death on those three patients was meningitis,” Spencer explained. “Doctors didn’t do further testing because the illnesses presented themselves as meningitis, but we think they could’ve been caused by anthrax.”

“Did they show the symptoms we’re seeing now — the lesions?” Rossi asked.

“They all died within 3 hours of being admitted,” Spencer continued. “The bodily functions expired too quickly for lesions to appear.”

“The first patient from the park died 10 hours after exposure,” Hotch spoke up.

“He could have used less anthrax on more people at the park,” you theorized. “The higher concentration, the faster this shit kills. If enough was used in a more controlled environment, it could easily shut down every system in the body within a few hours, leaving no time for physical symptoms.”

“What are their names?” Hotch asked after a brief moment of silence.

With the help of a few higher-ups in the military, the team found the best lead so far: a disgraced scientist who proposed a 50-billion dollar plan to fight any potential chemical warfare. His main concern? Anthrax. Derek and Spencer were assigned to visit his home while Prentiss and Rossi visited the company he worked for. Staying at the hospital would be useless, so you decided to tag along.

_____________________

Dr. Lawrence Nichols’ yard was tidy; he had a sprinkler going, and the rose bush in his backyard seemed to be trimmed recently. The three of you explored the outside of the house while men in hazmat suits secured the inside.

Derek got a phone call. Spencer stayed behind to listen in. You continued ahead.

Past a few decorative shrubs, you found a sliding glass door. Bright, fluorescent lights were on inside, lighting up a room with grey walls.

“Hey, guys,” you said, turning your head over your shoulder in an attempt to carry your voice.

Either they didn’t hear you, or they were ignoring you. You shrugged, sliding open the door and stepping in.

“Whoa.”

Not only was the room practically spotless, but it was filled with equipment — you guessed at least a couple thousand dollars went into the contents of the room, probably far more. To say this guy knew what he was doing would be the understatement of the century.

After scanning the walls and multiple tables, your eyes landed on the floor. It was composed of white tiles that shone under the light. Nicholas seemed to be a real neat freak. By the leg of a table, though, there was an inconsistency: a dark liquid was spilled.

Frowning, you stepped around to take a better look. Within a few steps, the entire sight came into your view, and it was far from a pretty one. A white-haired man in a suit laid dead on the floor. It could only be Nichols.

Your hand flew to the holster on your side. You grabbed your pistol, raising it to the air. You did another sweep of the room, and unsurprisingly, you came up empty. The lab was impressive, but it was small. It would extremely difficult for someone to hide in it.

You returned your gun to its holster. Crouching down, you took a better look at Nichols. You guessed he’d be dead for awhile now. The blood on the floor was brown and tacky rather than red and thin, and rigor mortis had already set in. You weren’t particularly educated in the field, but you could say with confidence he’d been dead for at least a day.

Looking closer, you noticed something beside him. It was a vile, much like the others on various tables in the lab. This one, though, had a bright yellow label on it. It also contained a thin, white powder. And, it was shattered into pieces.

Anthrax.

“Y/N?” You heard Spencer call.

The bushes that covered the lab entrance shook. Acting on instinct, you moved to the door and slammed it shut.

“Y/N?!” Spencer asked, this time more frantically. He rushed to the door, reaching for the handle.

“Get back!” you shouted, fumbling for the lock. “Spencer, you need to get out of here.”

“What’s going on?!” He protested, feeding off of your panic. When he realized trying to pry open the door would do no good, Spencer began pounding on the glass with his fist. “Y/N, open the door!”

You managed to lock the door, and a brief, small wave of relief washed over your body. You looked up, locking eyes with Spencer. His palm was pressed flat against the door, his eyebrows furrowed and his mouth slacked open.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered.

A swarm of people were outside the house within ten minutes. You could take the three various vehicles, the dozens of soldiers and CDC members swarming around. What you couldn’t take was Derek, Hotch, and especially Spencer staring at you from across the yard.

Hotch picked up his phone and held it in front of him. You phone rang a few seconds later.

“Sir, I’m so, so sorry,” you apologized immediately. “I… I really fucked up.”

“Y/N, we’re going to get you out and to the hospital,” Hotch said.

“What? That’s stupid,” you disagreed. “I’m staying here.”

“Like hell you are!” Spencer argued.

“Listen, Doogie: I’m infected. I’m more useful if I’m infected in Nichols’ lab than if I’m infected in the hospital. I can poke around in here, but I’m no prodigy with an eidetic memory. I need your help, Spencer. Will you help me?”

Spencer looked down. You sighed in defeat, hanging up the phone so you could continue exploring the lab.

Your phone rang again. You picked up.

“How can I help?”

“I see two different desks — one is cluttered, the other is immaculate,” you said, looking between the two. You took a notebook off the first desk, opened it, and placed it next to a stack of papers on the second, clean desk. “There’s two sets of handwriting, too. I think he has a partner.”

“Can you figure out which one is Nichols?” Spencer asked.

“Well, based on his lab, I’d guess he’s the neat freak,” you thought aloud.

“Read a few of the papers Nichols wrote,” Spencer instructed. “Does anything strike you as odd?”

You skimmed through the papers left on his desk, muttering to yourself as you did so. By the third page, you found something that seemed… weird.

“He wrote down instructions,” you told Spencer. “How to sterilize equipment, store samples… it’s all stuff he should know.”

“He doesn’t have a partner — he has an apprentice,” Spencer said. “Good job, Y/N. I have to call Hotch, but I’ll call you right after, okay?”

You smiled weakly. “Okay.”

Once they secured and sterilized the area, Spencer was allowed to sit on the other side of the door. He wanted to come inside, but you preferred this. You wanted to see him as his dorky, charming self, not someone in pounds of a bright orange suit.

“It’s ironic,” you said, your back pressed to the glass. You took off your jacket awhile ago, but sweat still soaked your shirt. “For the first time in almost a decade, I decided to get help. Now, I’ll be dead before I can even see the results.”

“Don’t say that, “Spencer argued softly. “You’re not dying. Kimura and her team will be in soon, and they’ll find the cure. You’re gonna be fine.”

“Maybe,” You said. You didn’t believe it, but you didn’t want to upset him, so you let it go. Therapy taught you to choose your battles. “But if I’m not fine in a few hours, I want to say I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

Spencer was sitting directly opposite from you, so the glass felt warm. Despite your already elevated temperature, the heat was soothing. If you closed your eyes, it felt like you were touching him.

“For breaking up with you, for pushing you away, for… everything,” you laughed bitterly only to fight back tears. “I love you, Spencer Reid, and I’m sorry I haven’t been showing it lately.”

“You can show it when you’re out of here and safe in my apartment,” He promised. “Actually… in our apartment.”

“I’m moving in with you?” You asked with a genuine laugh.

“Yes, and you’re not allowed to say no,” Spencer said. “I’m never letting you out of my sight again.”

“I don’t like my apartment that much anyways,” you said.

The two of you shared a chuckle. Your laughter quickly turned into a violent cough. Spencer went silent

You fished your phone out of your pocket, dialing a number you now knew by heart.

“Hey, Y/N,” Garcia said after picking up. Her voice was soft and sweet.

“‘Y/N’?” You asked. “No witty Garcia greeting for me?”

“I can’t be my sparkly self when you are where you are,” she replied.

“Garcia, can you do something for me?”

“Anything.”

“I can’t call my mom,” you said. “Ever since I joined the Army, she’s been paranoid — if I say one word in a weird way, she’ll be on the next plan to DC. I can’t put her in danger like that.”

“What do you need?” Garcia asked.

“I need you to record a message for her in case something happens,” you said softly.

“Oh, Y/N, nothing’s going to happen to you,” Garcia said. The optimism in her voice sounded real. “You’re gonna figure out who did this, and we’re gonna treat this strain.”

“I hope you’re right,” you said with an exhale, “but… just in case.”

“Okay. Give me a sec,” Garcia said. You heard her clicking away at her keyboard, pulling up the right program. “Ready.”

“Hi, Mom,” you said, stopping to cough. “Honestly, I don’t know what I’m supposed to say, but I know I should say something. ...I guess more than anything else, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for moving halfway across the country, I’m sorry I don’t call you back, I’m sorry I don’t let you in on much.

“I’m sorry I left so soon after dad died,” your voice caught. You cleared your throat. “I just… I had to get out. I know you say it’s okay, but it wasn’t. We were going through hell, and we should have done it together. You’re an amazing mother. I’m sorry for being such a shitty daughter. I just… I hope you know how much I love you. I love you more than anything, mom. I’m sorry it ended this way. I’m just really, really sorry.”

Ten minutes later, Dr. Kimura and a few other people were inside. You stood up, taking in her airtight suit.

“You look good,” you said sarcastically. “I’m going to a banquet next month. Can I borrow your outfit?”

She chuckled. “I haven’t worn this in a long time.”

“How are the patients at the hospital?”

“Let’s worry about you,” she said instead. “Are you in any pain?”

“No, I feel fine,” you said. “I don’t need anything.”

“Are you sure?” She asked. “We can at least try to make you comfortable.”

“Narcotics cause drowsiness and nausea,” you said. “I’m still here because I want to be useful.”

“Y/N!” Spencer said, tapping the glass to get your attention.

You turned around to see him with his phone pressed against his ear.

“The three ER patients all went to the same bookstore before being admitted,” Spencer told you. “They found traces of anthrax in the vents.”

“How can I help?” Dr. Kimura asked.

“Dr. Nichols was a former military scientist, which means he was most likely secretive and paranoid,” you said, stopping to breathe. “Odds are, he hid the cure from his partner in a place he wouldn’t suspect. Look for things that are obvious, hidden in plain sight.”

Your phone rang in your pocket. You turned to Spencer again, who raised his eyebrows. You picked up your phone.

“I’ve got Garcia on the line,” he said. “Rossi and Prentiss don’t think the accomplice was a coworker.”

“Okay, uh…” you frowned, thoughts jumbling. You retraced your steps back to Nichols’ desk to look for more clues. “I see a framed photo of Nichols teaching.” You looked in the file holder, coming up with nothing. You then looked through the basket in the corner and found a binder. “I see syllabi and assignments going back to the 70s.”

“He valued himself as an educator,” Spencer said.

“A teacher,” you whispered in thought. You dug through one of the drawers, looking for something you saw earlier. “I didn’t make the connection before, but he has a study on anthrax. There’s red ink and notes in the margins — it’s graded, like how a teacher grades a paper. Nichols wouldn’t open his lab to just anyone, but he might let someone in if they were interested in learning.”

“He appealed to Nichols as a student,” Spencer agreed. “Nichols is helping him with his thesis.”

“I can look up local PhD students,” Garcia chimed in.

“Check the sciences — biochemisty, microbiology,” Spencer instructed.

“Cross-checking with names of former employees or customers with grievances at the bookstore…” Garcia said. “Nothing, my doves.”

You coughed loudly, covering your mouth. “Here, listen to this,” you said after recovering. “‘Each household should have gas masks and a 2-month supply of cipro.’”

“That’s verbatim to what Nichols said,” Spencer spoke. “The partner’s adopted Nichols’ views to his own.”

“The chapters are on setting up triage and mobile emergency rooms,” you said, flipping through the paper. “Last time I checked, science students don’t write about city preparedness.”

“Garcia, cross-check with students in social studies — public policy, urban planning,” Spencer said.

“Hot to trot,” Garcia said. “Chad M. Brown, studied public policy, graduated from University of Maryland. He’s a former employee of the bookstore, no steady job, was slapped with a restraining order from his ex-girlfriend.”

“He’s our guy,” Spencer said. “Y/N, get out of there.”

You hung up, looking over and smiling faintly at him. He returned the expression.

You stood up. A wave of coughs rolled through your chest, each hack more violent than the last. You eventually pulled your elbow back to see your paled skin splattered with blood.

You felt dizzy. Your ears began to ring. Vaguely, you heard Spencer call your name, but it sounded like you were underwater. You knees buckled under your own weight.

The world went dark.

_____________________

You can’t see anything, so your other senses are amplified.

The smells.

The sounds.

Sweat, urine, blood, rotting flesh.

Rodents scurrying across the dirt, brushing across your ankles as they went after the real prey.

This place is hell on earth.

You’d rather die than spend another second here.

_____________________

You woke up to a steady beeping sound. You frowned, briefly opening your eyes only to squeeze them back shut. The room smelled sterile. The bed you laid on was hard, but it was draped with soft sheets. Other than the fact that it opened in the back, the standard gown you were wearing was surprisingly comfortable too.

“Welcome back,” Spencer greeted faintly.

You rolled your head to face his voice, eyes still closed. You finally noticed the cannula feeding oxygen into your nose, as it pressed against your cheek. Still, you smiled, and it wasn’t forced. “Hey.”

“You scared us, kid,” a deeper yet just as warm voice spoke up.

You tried opening your eyes again. You could faintly make out a tall, stout man with his arms crossed. “Hey, Derek.”

You tried sitting up, only to hiss in pain and reach for your side. Spencer put a hand on your shoulder.

“Take it easy,” he said softly, only moving his hand away when you laid back down. “They had to put a chest tube in — your lungs were starting to fill with blood.”

“Kimura said if they found the cure minutes later, your heart could have stopped,” Derek said.

“Where was it?”

“Nichols’ inhaler,” a voice from the doorway spoke up. Dr. Kimura stood there, a small smile on her face. “You were right: it was hidden in plain sight. And now, both the strain and the cure are going to be locked up in Fort Detrick along with other chemical warfare.”

“The other patients?”

“They’ll be okay,” Kimura assured, “just like you’ll be.”

“Thank you.”

“Thank you,” Kimura said before dismissing herself.

“Well,” Derek said after a brief silence, “I’m starving. You two want anything?”

Spencer shook his head.

“Coffee, please,” you said.

“Coffee for the lady, comin’ right up,” Derek said, then left. He closed the door behind him.

Spencer scooted in closer, running a hand over your hair. “You scared the hell out of me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing for things that aren’t your fault,” he scolded gently. “I’m just really, really relieved. I don’t know what I would do if I lost you.”

“I love you too,” you whispered. You moved your gaze to the ceiling, swallowing thickly. “I’m ready.”

“Ready for what?”

“I’m ready to tell you what happened in Syria.”

_____________________

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