plasticlung

[plasticlung]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ͜　ㅤㅤㅤㅤ/his fight and fury is fiery ㅤ 𓌔ㅤㅤ♰ ㅤdescriptionㅤㅤ˚̣̣̣ㅤThey rushed Buck back to the rig, stripping off his turnout coat and helmet. His shirt was soaked through with sweat, his skin bright red and scorching hot to the touch. Eddie couldn’t tear his eyes away from him, his heart thudding in his chest as he knelt beside Buck, wetting towels with whatever cold water they had and laying them across his chest and forehead. ㅤwhumptoberㅤㅤ˚̣̣̣ㅤday five ; sunburn , heatstroke

ㅤmain pairㅤㅤ˚̣̣̣ㅤevan buckley , eddie diaz ㅤao3 linkㅤㅤ˚̣̣̣ㅤclick here !

ㅤtagsㅤㅤ˚̣̣̣ㅤangst , hurt , no comfort . ㅤwarningsㅤㅤ˚̣̣̣ㅤn / a ㅤword countㅤㅤ˚̣̣̣ㅤ1k

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ͜　ㅤㅤㅤㅤ/full fic below

Evan Buckley has been to many places before he settled down in the 118 station, he has been to Florida, Hawaii, Louisiana, Texas, so Los Angeles heat should be nothing for him. Except LA’s heatwaves are nothing to joke about. It was the kind that made the air feel thick and suffocating, and Buck thinks that would be manageable if not for the sheer length of them. It had been days of unrelenting sun now, which also meant the last few days the station has been running non-stop, dealing with everything from dehydration to heat-induced blackouts. He was barely off for six hours before being called in, so other than that it was just another ordinary shift. 

Calls came in, they answered them, they went back, just like always. But now with the sun following their every move, as if it had its own personal vendetta against them. His skin tingled under his turnout gear, sweat soaked through every layer, and the heat seemed to wrap around him like a suffocating blanket. “Hydrate, Buck,” Bobby said during one of the few lulls of calls they got, throwing a water bottle his way as he went up the stairs.

“Yes, Dad,” he teased, although even that took some effort out of him. There was no denying the slight tense and miniscule slur in his voice, the tired edge creeping in no matter how much he tried to keep it hidden. He can’t lie, the cold water bottle in his hand was a god send and he wasted little to no time downing the water, the plastic bottle scrunching up as he did so. He turned and put it in the bin, not noticing how Bobby stood idle at the top of the stairs until the water was gone.

The lull of the moment didn’t last long, a call came ringing through during the late afternoon, right when the sun was at its highest as if it was some funny joke. It wasn’t one of the usual ones that they can send three people on and be back within a half hour. A construction site accident — collapsed scaffolding. It was chaos when the 118 arrived, the area cordoned off, debris scattered across the site. Workers were shouting, pointing toward a half-buried man in the rubble. Buck didn't wait for orders; he was moving before anyone else had even unbuckled their seatbelts.

"Careful, Buck !" Bobby called after him, but Buck was already darting toward the collapsed structure, not completely surprising on his behalf. Still, it made Eddie curse under his breath and follow through, following Buck’s path step by step. The smell of burning metal and sweat filled the site, and Buck was in the thick of it, hands pulling at the debris, trying to free the trapped worker. He gritted his teeth, muscles straining, but his movements were sluggish, less precise than usual. “Hold on,” Eddie called and rushed to his side, another firefighter a few steps behind him too.

Buck barely acknowledged him, Eddie knew how he could get too focused, too driven, on calls, but he was focused on something else right now. The redness creeping up Buck’s neck, the way his face was flushed beyond the usual exertion. His breathing was quick, shallow, not in the controlled way it should have been during a rescue. “Buck, you’re burning up,” Eddie said, a hand on his boyfriend’s shoulder. “You need to get out of this heat.”

He barely had the words out of his mouth before Buck was protesting it, a dance they have done many times up to now, and will continue to do. “I’m fine,” Buck snapped, brushing off Eddie’s hand as he reached to pull him back. “The guy needs help, we don’t have time.”

Eddie grabbed Buck’s shoulder, firm but not rough. "Buck, you’re gonna collapse if you keep this up. Let us handle this." For a moment, Buck wavered, his brow furrowing, but that was the moment they needed for Eddie and some new transfer from C-Shift to lift the trapped worker and get him out. Eddie was about to make a half concerned, half cocky comment before Buck’s body seemed to betray him. His knees buckled, and the world tilted. Eddie was there in an instant, catching him before he could hit the ground. The heat radiated off Buck’s body like a furnace, his skin hot to the touch.

“Fuck ! Buck,” Eddie’s voice was sharp with panic as he lowered him to the ground, his hand cradling Buck’s head as he laid him down. Buck’s eyes were glassy, his breathing rapid, but shallow, and his skin had taken on a deep, alarming shade of red. Chimney and Hen were by their side in seconds, Chimney taking care of the worker while Hen gathered beside buck, quickly checked his pulse, and her frown deepening as she felt the heat radiating from him.

“He’s got heatstroke,” Eddie more or less already knew that, and he doesn’t know if it’s good or bad that he was right. “We need to cool him down, now !” Buck’s breathing was erratic, his eyes fluttering closed as he weakly tried to move. Eddie knows that they have been through worse– Eddie was trapped underground and Buck literally died, but that didn’t stop his racing heart, especially not as he watched as Buck slipped, his body limp and completely unresponsive now. 

They rushed Buck back to the rig, stripping off his turnout coat and helmet. His shirt was soaked through with sweat, his skin bright red and scorching hot to the touch. Eddie couldn’t tear his eyes away from him, his heart thudding in his chest as he knelt beside Buck, wetting towels with whatever cold water they had and laying them across his chest and forehead.

Eddie’s hands trembled as he placed another cold towel on Buck’s neck, his mind racing. How had he not seen this coming ? He’d been watching Buck all day, but the heat had crept up on him, insidious and relentless. Now, Buck lay there, unmoving, his chest rising and falling in shallow breaths, the sunburn stark against his skin.

[plasticlung]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ͜　ㅤㅤㅤㅤ/i think about this before i sleep ㅤ 𓌔ㅤㅤ♰ ㅤdescriptionㅤㅤ˚̣̣̣ㅤwhere spencer reid spends the day reading . ㅤwhumptoberㅤㅤ˚̣̣̣ㅤday five ; alt prompt - finding old messages .

ㅤmain pairㅤㅤ˚̣̣̣ㅤspencer reid , david rossi ㅤao3 linkㅤㅤ˚̣̣̣ㅤclick here !

ㅤtagsㅤㅤ˚̣̣̣ㅤangst , hurt , no comfort . ㅤwarningsㅤㅤ˚̣̣̣ㅤspoiler's for s10;e13 , nelson's sparrow . ㅤword countㅤㅤ˚̣̣̣ㅤ1.1k

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ͜　ㅤㅤㅤㅤ/full fic below

Spencer Reid isn’t a hoarder. He doesn’t keep a lot of things and if you take away the books from his collection, he could be seen as a heavy minimalist, but the one thing he never throws away are letters. Especially when those letters were written by none other than Jason Gideon. He never looked back at them, he just liked the comfort of knowing they were there, especially when the news of Gideon’s death came out, it was a part of keeping him alive. And now a fresh unopened letter joined them. 

He couldn’t open the newest, and definitely last letter that Jason would have addressed to him.It was easy enough to read the letter when he left, because at least Spencer knew he was still writing something wherever he was in the world. The second Spencer reads the last word addressed to him, Gideon is finally dead.

The envelope joined the box two years ago, and from then it has only collected dust, pushed under Spencer’s bed until he decided to redecorate his room on the week he was off work. That plan was thrown out of the window when he saw the shoebox. It’s not like he forgot he put it there, he just didn’t think it through in his plan of being spontaneous. He left the box on his bed as he left to get some coffee, already knowing that he wouldn’t be moving from that spot on the bed for hours to come.

He pushed himself up against the headboard and lifted the lid off the box, the thin layer of dust tickling at his nose but he pointedly ignored it, instead focusing on paper upon paper in the box. He turned it upside down, leaving the earliest letter to be on the top of the pile now. It didn’t matter that he read it enough times at the start to know it word by word. It was different reciting the words in his head than it is reading it in Gideon’s writing. 

His fingers trailed over the paper, eyes driftings over sentence to sentence ‘I know you're finding your place, and it isn’t always easy when your mind works differently than others.’. ‘This job can wear people down, make them feel like it’s safer to close themselves off. But the world needs more people who care as much as you do.’. It was only the first letter and yet the words were already becoming blurry from tears. 

He doesn’t remember at what point did one letter become the next, he didn’t notice when his tears mixed in with the ink blob stains and coffee ring stains, He got to a letter after one of the early cases that hit Spencer hard, the line always in the forefront of his brain everyday. ‘There’s an old saying that I’ve held onto: You can’t save everyone. I know you’ve heard it before, and it might sound hollow, but it’s true. You did save someone today. You saved yourself, your team, and those who will live because of the work you did.’ He didn’t even have to look at the paper to continue it. ‘You can carry this with you, but don’t let it consume you. Learn from it, grow from it, and use it to become even better. But don’t let it break you.’.

The next letter he picked up was from a different type of paper than the others. A letter Gideon wrote while Spencer was kidnapped and the continued aftermath of the dilaudid. ‘It's okay to be vulnerable. It's okay to admit when you need help. We all have our demons, and what you've gone through doesn’t define you.’ If it was from anyone else, Spencer might’ve found the words sappy and even slightly cringey, but this was Gideon at the end of the day. ‘You have a brilliant mind, but that same mind can trap you in dark places if you're not careful. You’re stronger than you realise, but you don’t have to carry everything on your own. Lean on us. Lean on me.’

Then came the one Spencer knew what it was about before he even opened it, his many different tear stains on the envelope giving him the hint. The letter Gideon sent before he left. ‘Spencer, I knew it would be you who came to the cabin to check on me.’ And not for the first time, Spencer wished it wasn’t him. Or wished that he brought Hotch or Morgan around with him. 

‘I guess I'm just looking for it again, for the belief I had back in college, the belief I had when I first met Sarah, and it all seemed so right’ Spencer always questioned if he ended up finding it, and he lies to himself and says Jason did, only if to help him sleep at night. He wonders if he could ever get that belief back, or if he ever really had it in the first place. 

The sun was long gone by now, and his half drank of coffee cold to the touch, and he got to the last letter, and the only one still new, still unopened. He couldn’t stop his hands from messingly opening it up, but couldn’t unfold the paper until five minutes later. He couldn’t read past the first word despite it only being his name. After getting himself together after another six minutes, he continued, knowing if he stopped now he won’t ever read it. ‘I’m not sure if you’ll ever read this. Maybe I’m writing it more for myself than for you. There are things I should have said when I left, things I didn’t have the courage to face then, but time has a way of bringing clarity. And if anyone deserves honesty, it’s you.’ The letter continued to talk about the things he should’ve said, things he regretted; leaving Spencer when he needed someone to guide him, and how he is proud of him. Then there was a sign off with ‘Watching you always, Jason’ and if that didn’t make Spencer cry harder, nothing will.

[plasticlung]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ͜　ㅤㅤㅤㅤ/i think about this before i sleep ㅤ 𓌔ㅤㅤ♰ ㅤdescriptionㅤㅤ˚̣̣̣ㅤbased on memoriam . where spencer visits a hypnotherapist in hopes to put his mind at rest . ㅤwhumptoberㅤㅤ˚̣̣̣ㅤday four ; hypnosis , hallucinations

ㅤmain pairㅤㅤ˚̣̣̣ㅤspencer reid , jason gideon ㅤao3 linkㅤㅤ˚̣̣̣ㅤclick here !

ㅤtagsㅤㅤ˚̣̣̣ㅤangst , hurt . ㅤwarningsㅤㅤ˚̣̣̣ㅤn / a ㅤword countㅤㅤ˚̣̣̣ㅤ1.4k

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ͜　ㅤㅤㅤㅤ/full fic below

Spencer Reid’s mind was always running, it was always active. It was like a constant hum that was on in the background, a never-ending flow of statistics and facts that he couldn’t turn off, no matter how much he wanted to. He had read about hypnosis, of course he had, it intrigued him and he knew it was a valid practice, that it could work– on other people. Not on him. He couldn’t turn his mind off for himself, let alone for someone else. It felt impossible. Hypnosis couldn’t work on him. His mind didn’t know how to be still.

But then again. He was desperate. 

What was one of the biggest fights his parents had about ? What was the other reason that his father left ? Why did his mother insist on pushing the memory away, claiming nothing had happened ? And the most important question in his head. What had happened to that little boy ? Riley Jenkins. The kid’s face haunted Reid in every quiet moment, plaguing every dream and nightmare he had. He no longer lingered in the background of his mind like a light buzz; now he was always there, seeping into everything he did.  He couldn’t work on the case, couldn’t think clearly, because the not knowing had consumed him.

So, Spencer found himself here, at the office of a hypnotherapist. Not alone, though. He’d asked Rossi to come with him. He wasn;t sure why he asked the author to come along instead of his best friend. Maybe because Rossi was still distant enough not to suffocate him with worry. The office looked exactly like he expected. Clinical. He’d been to places like this as a kid, specialists assessing his iq level. He'd also been here as a teenager with his mother, trying to make sense of her illness. The faint smell of lavender hit him, and he swallowed hard. Nostalgia crawled up his spine and he assumed there is more where that came from.

Later on, Spencer will regret how snappy he was with the hypnotherapist. She asked him basic questions, and he answered sharply, sometimes even cutting her off. Maybe it was because he wasn’t going into this blind. He had read more books about hypnosis than she probably had, and part of him resented being talked down to. It wasn’t personal; he just couldn’t shake the feeling that this was a waste of time. But it wasn’t, was it? He needed to know what happened that day. He couldn’t live like this anymore, letting his mind unravel every detail but never actually getting an answer.

He didn’t speak as he was led to a second room, equally as clinical but with an attempt at being warm and welcoming. He didn’t respond as he was told to have a seat on the long couch in the centre of the room, lying down. He shifted his  weight, trying to find a position that didn’t make him feel so exposed. The therapist’s voice washed over him, soft, steady, guiding him to focus on his breathing as she had him grab her hand. “You’re safe here, Dr. Reid,” she said instead of counting once they went through a few rounds of breathing exercises. “You’re in control.”

He didn’t really feel like he was in control. In fact, never in his life did he ever. He tried to clear his mind, but everything was floating around like an itch you just can’t reach. “Spencer,” The therapist said softly, this time using his first name, her voice dropping into a more intimate tone. “I want you to let yourself remember. Just let go.” 

For a second nothing happened, and he was surprised when she spoke up again, thinking she was going to give him more time. “Where are you, Spencer ?” She asked, and in the back of his mind he wanted to give a sarcastic answer of her office, but instead he continued along, knowing nothing would come from more of his doubt.

“It’s night,” he finally spoke up, but even his own voice felt far away. “My father is on my bed. He knows I’m awake but I’m acting like I’m asleep. I couldn’t sleep when they were yelling at each other.” It felt wrong to tell this stranger all of this, and he forgot that Rossi is also witnessing this. “He smells different than he usually does. He has an office job, he shouldn’t smell of sweat or fire.”   His heart started racing. He wasn’t sure if it was the memory or the anxiety of not being able to pull away.  “He leaves. I don’t sleep that night.”

“It’s the next day now. You leave your room. What do you see, Spencer ? ” He paused, his breathing was the only thing heard in the room and he only continued when he realised that the hypnotherapist wasn’t going to lead him any further.His breath came faster, and he could feel the tightness in his chest, the same tightness that had clamped down on him as a child.

“I– I don’t know...” His voice shook, sweat beading on his forehead. The images were coming faster now, jumbled. His father’s face, then his mother’s, blurred, contorted. “I’m alone. I think. I’m– I’m alone in my house. My father is here, he is outside.” He could feel himself moving, inching forwards the glass doors that could hold all the answers, but the panes were fogged up. 

He couldn’t breathe. It was too much. His chest heaved as panic clawed its way up his throat. “No !” The volume of his voice shocked himself, and he wished to open his eyes but he couldn’t, only squeeze them further shut. “Stop it.” He doesn’t know who he is directing that to. A wave of nausea hit Spencer as he struggled to see, to make sense of what was happening. It was blurry, as if he was looking at it through tears but it is no doubt his dad was burning perfectly good clothes– well, perfectly good clothes other than the fact that they are stained red. 

He was too focused on the growing of the fire to register Rossi’s voice panic talking to the therapist, or how she was asking him to wake up, how his eyes stayed shut even after she counted down from one. He had said stop, but the hypnotist’s voice didn’t seem to reach him and the room’s presence felt distant. His pulse quickened as the smell of burning leaves filled his nostrils again, stronger this time, acrid and suffocating. “There’s–” his voice ripped out of him, “Blood. Smoke. It’s–” he knew it was impossible for him to actually smell the smoke but it felt like the clouds were down his throat. “Stop it.”

He tried to pull away, to wake up, but his body was frozen. He could hear his own heartbeat pounding in his ears, but he couldn’t make himself move. It was like his mind was trapped, stuck in the memory. He clawed at it, trying to force himself awake, trying to scream, to do anything. His fingers dug into the armrest, but it wasn’t real. Nothing was real. The therapist’s voice was somewhere in the distance, but it was muted, like she was speaking underwater. He could barely hear her. 

“Spencer!” Rossi’s voice suddenly cut through, sharp and urgent, but distant, like it was coming from the other side of a tunnel. He was trapped. Locked inside the memory, with no way out. Panic surged through him, his chest tightening, his breaths becoming shallow and ragged. He felt like he was suffocating, drowning in the weight of the past. “You’re safe. You’re not there.” Rossi continued but it didn’t feel like the truth. He was there. He could smell the burning leaves, hear the fire cracking in the air, feel the cold sweat on his skin as he tried to get a closer look.  

Suddenly, there was a sharp pain in his arm, like he was being pulled. If he was present, he would say that that was a dangerous way to wake someone that is under hypnosis, but now he could only be glad that he was pulled from his lying position, helping his eyes snap open. He was back in the office, drenched in sweat, his chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. The room spun for a moment, the fluorescent lights too bright, too sharp. He blinked, trying to orient himself, his hands still gripping the armrests of the chair with white-knuckled intensity.Rossi was kneeling on the ground beside him, his hand and Spencer’s arm and further grounding him by giving it a light squeeze. “It;s okay, kid. You’re back. You’re okay.”

[plasticlung]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ͜　ㅤㅤㅤㅤ/spirit of my silence, i can hear you ㅤ 𓌔ㅤㅤ♰ ㅤdescriptionㅤㅤ˚̣̣̣ㅤa one-shot where evan buckley thinks the ocean is way too big for him to handle . ㅤwhumptoberㅤㅤ˚̣̣̣ㅤday four ; 'you're still alive in my head'

ㅤmain pairㅤㅤ˚̣̣̣ㅤ(evan buckley) , eddie diaz , henrietta wilson ㅤao3 linkㅤㅤ˚̣̣̣ㅤclick here !

ㅤtagsㅤㅤ˚̣̣̣ㅤangst , hurt , slight comfort . ㅤwarningsㅤㅤ˚̣̣̣ㅤmajor character death [already dead] ㅤword countㅤㅤ˚̣̣̣ㅤ2.3k

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ͜　ㅤㅤㅤㅤ/full fic below

Evan Buckley came into Eddie Diaz’s life way too late, and left way too early. Eddie would love to be able to hate the other, hate the way that he carved a place into his heart, only to leave it gravely empty, hate the way he can’t even open Wikipedia anymore without his tears blurring the words, hate the way the Diaz–Buckley household is once again only the Diaz, hate the way his son had to lose a parent once again.

But he can’t hate the other, even as he punches the very wall Evan once helped fix up, he can’t help but hate himself. He knew nothing could’ve prevented what happened, that if it wasn’t Buck up there, it would’ve been Chimney. He can’t help but wonder what Buck was thinking in his last moments. He wonders if he felt the whiplash of falling from the ladder or if he was still reeling from the lightning strike. Eddie has had his share of near death experiences, times where he has drifted off into consciousness not sure if he would ever wake again. During those moments, Christopher is usually the last person he thinks of, and he wouldn’t be that surprised if it was the same in Buck’s case. Not that Evan could ever tell him. Buck couldn’t ever tell him anything anymore. His best friend won’t talk about the history of wardrobes, or odd habits that whales have. 

The death of the youngest member of the 118 hit everyone hard, not even the station's firefighters and close community of them, Eddie has gotten texts from other firefighters that they have only worked with once or twice wishing him well. They had to hold two funerals for him, one for the immediate side, and another for the public, and Eddie never saw so many people in one place before. He still had tubs and tubs of tupperware full of food in the kitchen that could very well last a lifetime, but he hasn’t felt hungry ever since he watched Buck take his last breath. 

Christopher was with Eddie’s parents, they said it would be good for both of the Diaz boys to have this time. Christopher caved in, but only for a month. The school was more than willing to give him the time seeing as Buck is always brought up by the boy, and they watched as Evan would pick Christopher up from school, and attend parent-teacher meetings, everything. Eddie is sure that the teacher’s thought he and Buck were dating.

But they didn’t get the chance to. Buck died while they were still walking the tight-rope between platonic and romantic. Buck died before Eddie could admit to him that he imagined what it would be like to call him partner in more than just the job sense. Before Eddie could admit that he wants to grow old with Buck, wants to be able to share a bed and hold him in his sleep, and wants to worship each and every part of Evan Buckley’s body. 

The house was deathly silent, pun not intended. All that could be heard was Eddie’s laboured breath. He doesn’t understand why he can be sitting here while Evan is dead. He knows Buck isn’t religious, and neither can Eddie be, not when the so-called God can let Buck leave before they get their happy ending, but if heaven does somehow exist, he hopes that Buck is waiting at the gates for him. 

He doesn’t want to leave Buck waiting long, but he can’t make an orphan out of his son, he can’t have Christopher lose two of his dad’s within one year. Maybe sometime, but not now. He doesn’t know how long he stood staring at the wall before he faded into sleep, wishing he could dream of him and Buck, but instead it was an endless pit. 

— 

Hen liked to deal with her grief alone. She finds it easier to sort out things alone before letting someone inside her head. Karen didn’t always like it, but she allowed it, gave her wife some space. With the death of Buck, she made Hen begin therapy, and had some herself. This wasn’t like a bad call, or stress building up after an injury. This is death, permanent death, you can’t come back from this.

It was after a therapy session that Hen pulled up to visit Eddie, they’ve each texted the groupchat sparingly, each dealing with his death in different ways but she decided a visit to the Diaz household wouldn’t be the worse. When Eddie answered the door, he looked much better than she thought he would, if she was honest. He was put together in a way. When she last saw Bobby he couldn’t bring himself to shave and had an unruly beard, but Eddie had none of that, but the looks of it he was even just out of the shower and making the most of the day.

“Oh Hen. Come in,” he left the door open and she closed it behind her, noticing the three pairs of shoes by the door. Eddie’s black trainers that he debated on getting for the longest time until Evan surprised him with them, then Christopher’s school shoes, and on the other side of the smallest pair was Buck’s beat up trainers, full of dirt and stains. They were lined up neatly, with each person’s coat hung above it as well. “Tea ? Coffee ?”

The question was the only thing that made her move on from the display at the entrance. “Oh uhm, green tea please.” She was never a tea person, but Karen had the idea of drinking it when off shift in a way to separate the two lives, it’s been working. During the small walk past the sitting room into the kitchen, Hen could only find more and more instances of Buck being in the house. The green blanket he talks on and on about the comfort of was draped halfway off the couch, like he spent the night and left in a rush. 

“Buck isn’t back yet, but you are welcome to wait.” Hen had to stop to be sure she even heard that right. She knows the five stages of grief— denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance, and she has jumped from one to another during the last few weeks, yet it seems like Eddie has kept himself in the denial box. Hen could only look around in the kitchen, where three plates were set on the dining table, but only one chair pulled out. 

There was a whiteboard on the fridge, one she knew Buck got them ages ago, and Eddie’s purple marker was the only new one, adding notes as if there was someone else to read them. Hen’s stomach twisted and she tried not to show the discomfort on his face. She could only stare at Eddie, who moved around the kitchen with an unsettling amount of calmness, as if everything was normal. As if his partner in crime didn’t leave them all without being able to even say goodbye.

Hen just wanted to scream, to shake Eddie and tell him the dark trust that he seems to be unaware of– no, not unaware, but actively avoiding, but she held back. Not yet. “Thanks,” she mumbled as Eddie handed her the green tea. He at actress from her at the table, his fingers tapping rhythmically against the surface. 

They sat in silence for a few minutes. It wasn’t exactly an uncomfortable one, but it was clear that there was a lot that needed to be said, but Hen couldn’t find the right words for the life of her. How do you even talk to someone who’s drowning in grief but doesn’t know it yet ? It is easy to comfort people on cases because she doesn’t know them, but she watched as Eddie built a life with Buck, and now he is doing the same with his ghost.

“Eddie...” she trailed off softly, as if she was talking to one of the kids she had fostered. He looked up at her and a slight smile tugged at his lips, but it didn’t reach his eyes. In fact, his eyes seemed hollow, as if they were clouded by mist and he wasn’t really seeing her. He hummed in response as if everything was normal. As if he isn’t living in the shell of the life he had once imagined with Buckley.

Hen took a deep breath in an attempt to steady herself. “I uh. I just wanted to check in ?” It came out more like a question than she wanted it to. “Just see how you are doing. It’s been a few weeks and...” Her voice faltered but she didn’t really have to continue. She couldn’t just say that Evan was gone. That he isn’t coming back and they have to accept it. He isn’t bouncing back this time. How could she even attempt to say that when Eddie kept glancing at the door as if he expected Buck to walk through them at any second ?

Eddie’s smile wavered only for a moment, and if Hen wasn’t constantly looking at him, she might’ve missed it. Then he spoke and his voice was way too calm and collected to seem natural. “I’m okay, Hen. Really.” Hen didn’t believe that one bit. “Chris is with my parents for now, and I’ve… I mean I’ve had a lot of time to think you know ? To figure things out.” He paused to take a sip out of his cup. “It’s hard but... Buck is coming back. I can feel it.”

Out of everything Hen thought she’d hear come out Eddie’s mouth, this was not it. She nearly choked on the warm drink. She had seen grief manifest in all kinds of ways over the years, and so had Eddie. They’ve watched people react in anger, or sadness or downright full of numbness. This wasn’t denial though. Eddie wasn’t just in denial, he was living in a whole new alternate reality. One where Buck was still alive, where a part of his world was still going to come home.

“Eddie,” she said gently once again, placing her cup down on the table and the sound of ceramic hitting against marble was the only thing heard for a moment. “I know this is hard. We are all struggling. But...” She couldn’t continue her sentence, not when Eddie suddenly interrupted her. Something she was glad for considering she wasn’t even sure where she was going to go with that.

His face hardened with an expression she has only seen a small handful of times over the years they have worked together. Usually when the Buckley parents are talking, or sometimes towards Buck’s ex-partners. “I don’t need you to tell me how hard it is,” he said with no room for argument. He took a breath and continued with a lighter tone. “I saw what happened. But he’s still– He is still here,” he tapped his temple with his finger, his eyes burning with a level of conviction that terrified her. “He is still alive.”

“Eddie,” she could only repeat his name, a total loss of words as she leaned over and took one of her hands. They were cold, she remembers how he would always complain about that and Buck would hold them cause that boy was a human heater if she ever saw one. “I know you want to believe that. So do I. But Buck– He isn’t, he can’t come back.”

For a moment Eddie’s eyes flickered and Hen thought he might break, he might’ve finally let the reality settle in. But then he stood abruptly, ripping his hand away from hers and leaving a mark from the chair on his usually clean tiles.“See this ?” He grabbed a plate by the sink and lifted it up as if held all the answers that only he could dissect. “It’s Buck’s. He had breakfast here this morning. He is just– He went out. He will be back.” He said the last sentence to himself instead of Hen.

Hen was surprised she hasn’t cried yet from this, having to swallow the lump stuck in her throat. She glanced at the plate, and then around to the meticulously cleaned and organised home– house; it hasn’t been a home for weeks now. She couldn’t keep watching this, she couldn’t just watch Eddie dig a deeper hole for himself. “Buck’s gone. He’s not coming back” she whispered, feeling like they are going around in circles.

“No !” His voice cracked and dropped the place into the sink’s basin without a care for it breaking. “No he’s not gone.” He stressed out. “He’s here, Hen. He is here.” He pointed around the room, his breath coming out in ragged gasps. “His shoes, his jacket, his blanket, his goddamn plate ! He is not gone.” 

He had tears in his eyes at this point, ones that he might’ve brushed off as frustrated ones but Hen matched him, tears welling up in her own eyes as the grief she had been holding back as well for weeks crashed over her. She got up softer than he had and moved over to him as he continued to mutter that Buck was going to come back. She touched Eddie’s arm gently in an attempt to ground him and pull him out of the spiral he was quickly falling into.

Eddie’s face crumpled, and for a moment Hen genuinely thought he might collapse right then and there in front of her. His chest heaved with sobs that he was trying to hold back and his hands curled up into fists. For a moment Hen thought he might last out, at her, at the world, at the unbearable weight on his back but instead he sank to the floor, she didn’t hesitate to kneel beside him and wrap her arms around his shaking form, only barely keeping her own tears from spilling over.

[plasticlung]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ͜　ㅤㅤㅤㅤ/anchor the boat ㅤ 𓌔ㅤㅤ♰ ㅤdescriptionㅤㅤ˚̣̣̣ㅤa one-shot where evan buckley thinks the ocean is way too big for him to handle . ㅤwhumptoberㅤㅤ˚̣̣̣ㅤday three ; alt prompt ; motion sickness

ㅤmain pairㅤㅤ˚̣̣̣ㅤevan buckley , eddie diaz ㅤao3 linkㅤㅤ˚̣̣̣ㅤclick here !

ㅤtagsㅤㅤ˚̣̣̣ㅤangst , hurt , slight comfort . ㅤwarningsㅤㅤ˚̣̣̣ㅤpost-tsunami ㅤword countㅤㅤ˚̣̣̣ㅤ2.7k

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ͜　ㅤㅤㅤㅤ/full fic below

Evan  Buckley didn’t even blink when Eddie Diaz invited him to be his plus one for his cousin’s wedding. The invitation came so casually, Buck barely thought twice about saying yes. In the back of his mind, he figured the only reason Eddie had asked him was because he was the few people Christopher was okay with being alone with in the case Eddie was dragged into one thing or another. Then Buck learned that Christopher wasn’t coming at all. It was a no-kids wedding and Eddie could’ve invited anyone. A proper date, maybe. Some woman to get his overbearing family off his back about finding a new girlfriend. That would’ve made much more sense than just inviting his co-worker slash best-friend.

It was only after Buck’s enthusiastic agreement that he learnt more about it. How it would be on Catalina Island, saying it as if he was offering a trip to paradise and not a place surrounded by the very thing Buck could still feel choking his lungs on some nights (Not that Eddie was aware of that, a purposeful move on Buck’s side). He never would assume that Buck has an issue with boats, not when he used to openly love the vast ocean, sharing stories of the boats he had been on when he was jumping from one place to another. He had no idea how different it felt now.

A part of him just wanted to say no. He knew Eddie wouldn’t take it to heart, he would understand and even feel guilty for putting Buck in that situation. He could suddenly become sick, or accidentally take on a last minute shift at the station. Anything to avoid his fear. But he knew he couldn’t do that, and definitely not to Eddie out of everyone. He couldn’t just bail. He wouldn’t. 

And so, here they were. Buck drove them in the Jeep to the docks, each mile pushing Buck closer to a boat he wasn’t sure he could handle. His stomach churned uneasily, and he felt an unwelcome tightness creep into his throat. He could feel his palms getting clammy as he held them against the steering wheel. If Eddie mentions it, he could just say it is his first time taking a break by choice, or the fact that this is the first time Buck has met Eddie’s extended family. That could work.

He knew he should feel excited. He knew Eddie had chosen him, and that alone should’ve been enough to make him feel honoured. Six days together, on an island; the type of getaway they would’ve killed for under normal circumstances. He should’ve been thinking about the sun and sand, or the fact that he and Eddie will probably be put into one room together and he can wake up in the same room as him for the next handful of days. He should’ve been thinking about Eddie choosing him over everyone else. The thought stirred something deep inside him that he should think about more, but it couldn’t completely drown out the anxiety rattling in his bones.

He parked his car up and was quick to get out of it and grab his suitcase and bag, as well as grabbing Eddie’s bag before the other could get his hands on it. “It’s the least I can do with you getting me out of work,” he hoped if he pushed himself to act like normal, that he would eventually feel like normal. 

Boarding was surprisingly quick and in any other situation Buck would’ve been secretly happy about it, but not this time. Even when he took his first step on the docked boat, he felt like he would collapse. He chewed at his lip and knew by the end of the trip it would be scarred and picked at over and over again. He chose to lead them into a lounge room, knowing he couldn’t hold himself together if they stood outside on the deck. 

“What’s up with you ?” Evan jumped when he felt a heat beside him, Eddie placing down a drink for the each of them that Buck doesn’t even remember him leaving to get, and putting an arm around Buck’s shoulders. “You look like someone just said the q-word in the house,” he joked, his tone light, but Buck knew there was some level of seriousness in his words. 

“Uh nothing,” he said and it was clear he didn’t even believe himself, he glanced around the lounge they were in so he didn’t have to meet Eddie’s eyes, who he can see from his peripheral looking right at him. It was the sign on the wall on how to deal with sickness that gave him his excuse. “It’s just...” he sighed, acting as if he lied because he was shameful about what he was going to say. “I get motion sickness. It’s why I stopped going on boats.” The guilt of lying was eating him alive already, but he didn’t want to ruin this for Eddie. 

Even though it was a lie, Buck flushed red with embarrassment. They are firefighters, their engine speeds down roads several times daily and he has literally swung from burning buildings, and yet being on calm water is what gets him all worried. Eddie flashed his emotions too quickly for Buck to fully understand them all, but he just knows that it doesn’t seem like Diaz fully believes him, and he should’ve known that it’s next to impossible to lie to his best friend. Still, Eddie settled on pity. “We can get through this. Five hours. I have your back.” And if that last sentence didn’t have Buck even guiltier for lying, he doesn’t know what would.

The first half of hour one was the fastest for the duo, they had signal for the first thirty or so minutes and Buck had a bunch of TikToks he saved to show Eddie. The second half of the hour was just as easy, as conversation was easy for them, people were still settling down so there was just enough noise for Buck to block out the sound of waves hitting off the boat.

As the second hour crawled in, people had gone to wherever they wanted to spend the next four hours, and the boat continued with the steady glide over the ocean. Buck has heard people say that the gentle sway of a boat’s floor beneath their feet was soothing to them, but it only succeeded in pulling Buck back to the place he had fought tooth and nail to leave behind. 

As his and Eddie’s conversation continued, he didn’t notice how he spoke less and less, letting Eddie carry the conversation– and to his credit, he is doing great at it. Evan kept trying to focus on Eddie’s voice, on the familiar warmth pressed up against him closer than it was originally, but the memories playing in his head were relentless, they were crashing around his mind harder than any wave could. The tightness in his throat was now unbearable, and he struggled to breathe without it feeling like salt water was filling his lungs. He could almost hear it again; could hear the rush of the tsunami, the frantic splashing, the muffled screams. The water had swallowed everything. Everyone.

“Buck ?” Eddie’s voice only barely managed to cut through the fog of Buck’s mind, and he blinked hard, pulling himself back to the present, not realising that their conversation went dead minutes ago. His hand was gripping his knee so tightly his knuckles had turned white. “Hey, you okay ?” He said, but as Buck looked in his eyes, he could tell that Eddie already knew the answer.

That didn’t stop him from his attempt in lying. “Yeah, yeah. I’m fine,” he croaked but his voice was too tight, too strained. The blatant lie tasted bitter on his tongue. He could feel Eddie's gaze on him, assessing, no doubt seeing straight through him, like he always does. Usually Buck loves that level of communication they have, but right now it just seems like a curse.

“Buck,” Eddie’s voice softened, his brow furrowed in concern. It was a tone Buck has only seen reserved for Christopher. He doesn’t even manage this tone with people they meet on calls.  “You don’t have to pretend with me, you know that. If something’s wrong, just tell me.”

But Buck couldn’t tell him. He couldn’t say it out loud, couldn’t admit that being on this boat was ripping him apart, dredging up nightmares he thought he had buried deep enough. It wasn’t just the fear of being surrounded by water; it was the helplessness and he knew that. The feeling of being utterly powerless while the world collapsed around him. He couldn’t go back there. Not now. Not with Eddie. Not with another Diaz.

“I told you,” Buck forced out, his voice sounding foreign to even his own ears. “It’s just the uh, the motion sickness. It’ll pass.” He wasn’t even trying to convince Eddie at this point, only himself. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself, but the air felt too thick, too suffocating, like he couldn’t get enough of it into his lungs.

Eddie’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he didn’t push. Instead, he stood up, his arm leaving Buck’s shoulders, and Buck almost regretted the loss of the grounding warmth. “Alright, come on,” Eddie said, standing in front of him with his hand outstretched. “Let’s get some fresh air. It’ll help.” He said it like a suggestion, but Buck knew well enough that it wasn’t. 

The thought of going outside and seeing the vast expanse of water stretching out for miles with no signs of land made Buck’s stomach lurch violently, but he couldn’t say no. Eddie was just trying to help, and Buck hated that his own fears might ruin the trip. The trip that is for Eddie. Buck could hear himself as he swallowed and took Eddie's hand, something he would’ve fought against or over thought if his legs didn’t feel like jelly right about now.

The moment the fresh air hit his face, Buck’s lungs seized once again, but this time it was for a whole different reason. His eyes immediately fell to the water, the waves seemed to be soft against the boat to others, but they couldn’t be louder to Buck and the world felt like it was tilting beneath him. The horizon seemed to be stretched out endlessly and the water seemed never ending.

He was looking at the same ocean that drowned him, it looked the same as the day he had almost died.

He gripped the railing nearest to him tightly, as if even letting go by a slight bit would mean the end, and it once did. He could hear Christopher’s shout of his name, could feel the salt water in his lungs, remembers the desperate need to save everyone and then not even being able to save his kid. His heart raced as fast as his thoughts and no matter how hard he attempted to steady his breathing, he couldn’t shake away the feeling that the water was going to take him over again.

“ –ck ? Evan ?” Eddie’s voice was soft, but there was a note of panic in it now. Good. He should be panicking, a tsunami could start at any moment and they are in the middle of the ocean. “You’re shaking.” Buck hadn’t even realised it, but he was. He was trembling so hard that the railing under his grip was rattling. But just because he was aware of it didn’t mean he could stop it. He was frozen. He had always been the fight in the whole fight or flight response, but right now he couldn’t even move his mouth to talk.

“Hey, hey, cariño. C’mere.” Eddie’s hand was suddenly on his arm. When did they stop holding hands ? They pulled him away from the railing, and guided him back to a corner of the deck where they were more sheltered from the wind, and where Eddie could block his view of the vast ocean. “What’s going on ? This isn’t motion sickness, is it ?” 

Buck’s chest tightened even further if that was even possible, the guilt and shame crashing over him. He hated this. Hated feeling so weak, hated that he couldn’t even handle a simple boat ride– he is a firefighter for fuck sake, he runs into burning buildings and scale cliffsides, he should be able to handle a boat. He was supposed to be the strong one, the guy who jumped into danger without a second thought. But now ? Now he couldn’t even stand on a boat without falling apart. It was pathetic.

“I…” Buck tried to speak, but his voice cracked, and he could feel the burn of tears behind his eyes, anything he said died on his tongue. He clenched his jaw, shaking his head as if that would make it all go away. But it didn’t. Nothing did. He can’t think of his life without this suffocation being with him, always there, underlining. 

Eddie’s hand squeezed his arm, grounding him, steadying him in a way that Buck wasn’t sure he deserved. He didn’t deserve Eddie at all, he didn’t deserve either of the Diaz boys, not after he failed them in a way that could never be forgiven. “It’s okay,” Eddie said softly, his voice so gentle that it almost broke Buck. “You don’t have to say anything. Just breathe. I’m right here.”

Buck squeezed his eyes shut, swallowing the lump in his throat as he fought to get control of himself. He wasn’t supposed to be like this. Not in front of Eddie. Not after everything they’d been through. He isn’t sure why he felt so embarrassed about this situation in particular; he has broken down before in front of Eddie, and he has walked in on the other crying as well. It wasn’t the first time emotions got a hold of either of them. “I’m sorry,” He finally whispered, his voice cracking. “I didn’t want to ruin this for you.”

“Evan.”  It isn’t often that Eddie calls Buck by his birth name, yet he has already twice this trip alone; at least twice that Buck could register hearing. “You’re not running anything,” he said, tone full of confusion, but something else was mixed in there that Buck tries not to linger on, something much softer. 

He shook his head, wordless, he didn’t want to admit it because that would mean admitting that he can’t handle the weight of what happened to him, the weight of an ocean full of water pushing on his lungs. “It’s just,” He rushed out, forcing the words out before he lost the small amount of nerves he built up, “It’s the water. Ever– Ever since the tsunami, I just... I haven’t… I can’t do it, Eddie.” There. He finally said it. 

He waited for Eddie to say something, anything. Then there was a moment of silence, and another, until Buck finally dared to open his eyes and all he could see was Eddie’s cornered eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me ?” Eddie said. Buck could tell that he was trying to keep the betrayal out of his voice, but just as Eddie can read him like an open book, so can he. 

“I didn’t want to–” He trailed off, his voice faltering as he realised maybe how dumb he was acting. “I didn’t want you to feel– to feel guilty I guess. You were so excited about this, and I didn’t want to take that away from you,” he said, focusing on the buttons of Eddie’s shirt instead of risking another glance at his face. 

Eddie’s hand tightened on Buck’s arm. “You should’ve told me, Buck,” he lightly scolded. “I wouldn’t have cared about the trip. I care about you,” he said as if it was one of the facts in the world, as if he just said that the sky is blue, or there are twenty four hours in a day. The pure sincerity in his voice is like a punch to the gut. 

There was silence between them, Eddie said what he needed to and Buck didn’t really know what else he could say.

[plasticlung]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ͜　ㅤㅤㅤㅤ/you can't undo what happened ㅤ 𓌔ㅤㅤ♰ ㅤdescriptionㅤㅤ˚̣̣̣ㅤwhere aaron hotchner , derek morgan , and alex blake were still on the teamw ehn specner was imprisoned - and they won't let him isolate ㅤwhumptoberㅤㅤ˚̣̣̣ㅤday three ; wrongfully arrested , set up for failure .

ㅤmain pairㅤㅤ˚̣̣̣ㅤspencer reid , aaron htochner , alex blake , derek moran ㅤao3 linkㅤㅤ˚̣̣̣ㅤclick here !

ㅤtagsㅤㅤ˚̣̣̣ㅤangst , hurt , slight comfort . ㅤwarningsㅤㅤ˚̣̣̣ㅤspoilers for season twelve . ㅤword countㅤㅤ˚̣̣̣ㅤ1.5k

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ͜　ㅤㅤㅤㅤ/full fic below

It was strange how quickly a person could become desensitised to their surroundings. Spencer Reid never thought he would get used to the dim and sterile lighting of the prison cell hall, or the distant clanking of metal doors and card swipe beeping, but eventually they became something integrated in his mind, things that became a part of his reality without him fully realising it.

He didn’t think he would end up here, didn’t think he would ever find himself on the same side of the cell as the people he works against, but now in his isolation he couldn’t help but think that he isn’t much better than them. That may be along the way, they rubbed off on him until he became more monster than man. 

He didn’t expect anyone to stay; not after what happened in Mexico. He knows how damning it looked, the amount of evidence stacked against him, he wouldn’t hold it against them if they move him to the back of their mind, only bringing him up as the ‘co-worker that lost his mind’. They had too much to lose if they tried to defend him. It doesn’t matter that he would kick tooth and nail for any of them, he doesn’t expect the same back. 

He picked at the scab building up on his thigh, pausing it’s healing once again and closed his eyes as he thought about all the overwhelming things that have happened to him. He never had an issue with his memory, and it’s one of his biggest fears, so when there were blanks in his memory, he could argue that it was worse than being wrongfully arrested. 

The worst part of it all, he thinks, is the connection that was fraying with them. Mostly on his own part, he will admit, after they travel so far during visitation and he refuses to show. He couldn’t let them see him like this, he isn’t even a shell of his old self, he is a completely different person. He couldn’t have them worry about him, he doesn’t think he could handle their caring looks. Looks he doesn’t deserve.

It doesn’t matter that he was manipulated and drugged, it was still his fault at the end of the day for going to Mexico. 

Life became the same quickly and he stopped trying to distinguish Mondays from Tuesdays. Well, it should’ve been, until he went to meet up with his lawyer and saw three extra people then there should have been in the room. 

— 

Aaron Hotchner has seen a lot in his time not only as a Unit Chief, but also as a Lawyer. He has seen people succumb to the worst part of themselves, and he can’t stand to see Spencer like that. That’s why he nearly opted out of being one of the three to visit him. It was hard to get the prison onboard for even one private visitor, nevermind three. Still, with a bunch of convincing and push on their side, it was allowed.

He could see it in Spencer's eyes when he noticed them. He walked in originally with his head down, hands cuffed and it was only when he looked up and saw the abnormally did his face show emotion, a whole range of emotions flashed by quickly, too fast for Hotch to exactly put a finger on any of them.

He stood still, as if he was waiting for permission to move, as if it was a whole restraint trick on him. But it wasn’t, and Alex seemed to have given him that permission when she opened her hands towards him, which he was quick to collapse into. And just like that, a body of 6’1’’ crumbled right down into the hands of a 5’6’’ one. It was silent for a few minutes and Aaron hated to be the one to break it, but they have a time limit for how long they are allowed to be there and he doesn’t want to push their luck much further.

Aaron didn’t have to break the moment though, not when Morgan spoke up instead. “Hey, pretty boy,” he said in an attempt to make out some sort of normalcy in this situation, despite the light words though, Hotch could see the pain on Derek’s face. Spencer eventually left the hug, though he didn’t stray much from Alex’s side. Aaron has worked with Spencer long enough to read him, even though it has become so much harder now. 

He could tell that Reid’s mind was racing (as always), trying to process why they were here, why they hadn't abandoned him. As if they would ever abandon him. Eventually he spoke up, voice raw as if he hasn’t spoken in days and Hotch isn’t sure if that’s too far from the truth. “You shouldn’t be here.” He glanced down at his hands, cuffs clinking against the metal table. His wrists were bruised, the evidence of his captivity painfully clear. 

Hotch wasn’t really sure what he could say, because Spencer is right in his own wrong way. They shouldn’t be, it’s against protocol and guidelines. “We are going to get you out of here, Spencer. Whatever it takes,” he said with an arm on the younger’s shoulder, something he did a lot in Reid’s younger years in the BAU, and when the dim light shines right, Aaron can still see the young twenty-something year old there. 

“You can’t undo what happened. You all saw the evidence. It’s airtight. I’m–I’m... guilty.” Spencer wasn’t really focusing on them, and his voice doesn’t even sound like his own. In a sick way, Aaron feels responsible for all of this. Maybe he should’ve told Gideon to calm down on their new agent and wait a few years, maybe he should’ve been a better support pillar, maybe he should’ve helped more. 

“You didn't do this. We know that, man.” Morgan once again cut in while Hotch was in his head. “We know it’s wrong. This will be over soon.” Derek was always more of a nihilist than an optimist, but maybe he is changing his views for their youngest member. Spencer’s heart hammered in his chest. His throat tightened as he fought back the tears that were threatening to spill. When was the last time he was spoken to as human ? When was the words he said listened to ?

“They won’t even let me call my mother” Spencer whispered, his voice cracking. He didn’t mean to say it, but the words slipped out, raw and unfiltered. He was unravelling, days of being nothing more than a number and a crime had him desperate to share all his secrets it seems,  “They wouldn’t let me call her, and now– now she probably thinks I’ve abandoned her too.”

Of course, even after everything, his number one concern was Diane. Alex continued to rub her hand up and down his back, a sort of comfort he probably haven’t had in weeks. “I’ve been in contact with her. She knows you didn’t abandon her, and she is being cared for.” She reassured. 

“You are family, Reid.” Hotch finally spoke up. His voice was steady, but tense in hopes not to let too much of the emotion beneath the surface show. “We don’t abandon family.” Spencer shook his head, his chest tightening. He didn’t know how to explain it to them—the guilt, the shame, the overwhelming sense that this was his fault. No matter what they said, no matter how much they believed in him, it didn’t change the fact that he was trapped in this hellhole because of his own mistakes.

“I– I don’t.” He squeezed his eyes shut, his face scrunching alongside the action. “I don’t know how to get out of this,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m scared.” The words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. They could’ve guessed as much, anyone would be if they were in Reid’s situation, but still.

Derek was the first to move. He placed a hand on Spencer’s shoulder. “I know you are,” he said, his voice low and comforting. “But you’re not alone. We’re going to fight this. We’re going to fight for you, no matter how long it takes.” He repeated what Hotch said, wanting to make sure Spencer understood that. The prisoner’s eyes darted from Derek to Alex to Hotch. They had more faith in him than he had in himself, looking at him with a sense of love that he convinced himself he had lost. “We’re going to get you home.” Blake said and the concept of home felt so foreign to Spencer now. But by the way Alex said it, it was like they still believed he had a place there in the BAU. Like they still believed he was part of something much bigger than this prison, this nightmare.

[plasticlung]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ͜　ㅤㅤㅤㅤ/empty side of the bedㅤ 𓌔ㅤㅤ♰ ㅤdescriptionㅤㅤ˚̣̣̣ㅤnavigating a relationship is new territory for both derek morgan and spencer reid . ㅤwhumptoberㅤㅤ˚̣̣̣ㅤday two ; trust issues .

ㅤmain pairㅤㅤ˚̣̣̣ㅤderek morgan / spencer reid . ㅤao3 linkㅤㅤ˚̣̣̣ㅤclick here !

ㅤtagsㅤㅤ˚̣̣̣ㅤangst , hurt , slight comfort . ㅤwarningsㅤㅤ˚̣̣̣ㅤn / a . ㅤword countㅤㅤ˚̣̣̣ㅤ2k

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ͜　ㅤㅤㅤㅤ/full fic below

When Derek Morgan and Spencer Reid got together after eight years of constant pining and flirting, it was a whole new territory for both of them. But they were friends for years now, it shouldn’t matter that this was Morgan’s first relationship with a guy, or Spencer’s first real relationship in general. They have been in sync forever by now, a new label shouldn’t change much. Except it did.

Morgan could only stare up at the ceiling despite the tiredness that pulled at him, the darkness of the room surrounding him and he wished that he got those glow in the dark stars for kids so he wouldn’t feel like he was stuck in the void. The bed was cold beside him, the exact spot where Spencer had been a handful of hours ago now empty, the only sign that he was even there was the dent in the pillow and pull back of the duvet. Derek didn’t have to reach out and feel it to know. The absence of the other was loud, and Morgan didn’t know that silence could be so deafening.

Spencer was gone. Again. Third night in a row, maybe the eleventh time this month. He didn’t have to look around to know that there would be no notes, no texts, no explanations. 

Maybe Morgan should’ve been used to it by now, to the way Spencer would just slip out in the middle of the night like it was nothing, claiming some sort of restlessness or a need to be alone. He told himself that Spencer just needed space, that it wasn’t personal and Spencer will tell him the problem when he is ready. The ache in his chest told him something different, it told him that it was personal.

And that was scary because Morgan wasn’t used to all this. This feeling of waiting. This wasn’t like all his previous relationships. He wasn’t used to being the one waiting, wasn’t used to feeling like he was the one being left behind. Spencer was different and that terrified the shit out of him. He hated that vulnerability, hated the way it got under his skin and made him feel like he was constantly second-guessing himself.

All those years of flirting, of bantering back and forth each morning, of gentle teasing and underlying tension that no one mentioned but everyone noticed. It all felt safe, it was easy. But now they were together, actually together, and suddenly everything felt different. There was a sudden air of uncertainty and a different type of tension that Derek never expected. He had thought, foolishly, that everything would just click into place once they crossed the line from friends into something more. But it was clear not that that wasn’t the case. 

If it was anyone else, Morgan wouldn’t mind walking away from it all when things got tough, or when the emotions got too reel. But Spencer wasn’t anyone else and he wasn’t someone Morgan could distance himself from even if he tried. Spencer mattered. He mattered much more than Derek ever thought he would. He carved out a home in Morgan’s heart. Something no one else has ever managed to even get close to.

The blanket fell off her shoulders as he sat up, running a hand over his face as he stared at the door as if Spencer will magically walk back in, maybe with yet another quiet apology or some explanation that doesn’t really explain anything. But that didn’t happen, the door stayed closed and Morgan couldn’t help but glare at it. As if the wooden object is the reason for this disconnect.

They tiptoed around it on the rare occasion they would mention the fact that he left, Spencer would always ramble for one reason or another but Derek couldn’t help but notice how he seems to be avoiding something as if he doesn’t trust his partner with whatever he needs to say. And Morgan hates that, because trust wasn’t supposed to be an issue when it came to them. They have known each other for years now, they have been through hell together, had each other’s backs more times than they could count. Despite all that, Morgan couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe Spencer didn’t fully trust him.

Even worse, he thinks he doesn’t trust Spencer completely either. He wants to, and maybe at one point in the future, he will, but it seems that their relationship that is meant to be built up from trust is cracking, and he doesn’t want that. 

There was no way he could go back to sleep now, shivering as he got out of the bed and allowed the cold air to run through him. He threw on a pair of sweats along with a hoodie that he found on the floor. He couldn’t just lie there, waiting for Spencer to come back like a ghost haunting the place. 

Was he pushing Spencer away without even realising it ? Will they ever be okay ?

He didn’t bother to turn on the lights as he padded out of the bedroom to the living room, the only noise coming from the hum of the city outside of his window. It didn’t matter that it was two in the morning, it was as lively as ever and not for the first time Derek debated on moving further out from the heart of the city.

It took him a minute to notice the half-finished cup of coffee. It was still warm. Spencer was here recently. He hates that he can only stand there, staring at the cup as if he would answer all his questions. He isn’t too sure how long he stood there, his feet felt like they were bound to the wooden floor, not being able to move even if he wanted to.

Why was Spencer pulling away when they had fought so hard to get to this point ? They have been through so much together, and yet now they can’t even communicate. He thinks it’s worse because it’s not like it is affecting their way of working. They can work alongside each other like no problem, but the second they aren’t running with a case, they can’t help but feel like strangers.

His phone was left in the bedroom but he doesn’t think he had any use for it anyway. He could call or text, but what could he even say ? Anytime he tries to start a conversation about it, it dies on his tongue. He sank down on the couch, the same couch that Spencer would fall asleep on when they first started to hang out and he didn’t want to leave. It never felt more uncomfortable.

What if Spencer just didn’t feel the same amount of love and commitment that Derek feels for him ? It was a terrifying thought. He knows his reputation of being a player, but Margot Robbie could pass by and he would be none the wiser, he only has eyes for Spencer. How can the other not see that ?

He wasn’t sure when he began to spiral, or when the sun started to seep in through the blinds, but then the door opened with a faint creak that echoed in the house. Spencer was quiet other than that, and Derek is sure that if the door was oiled properly, he wouldn’t even notice the other coming in. He froze when he saw that he wasn’t the only one awake. “I didn’t think you’d be up.” It was hard to read Spencer’s tone sometimes, and this was one of those times. 

“I couldn’t sleep,” Morgan could only reply. His tone was flat, but he tried not to come off as cold. He isn’t angry at Spencer, he doesn’t think that is possible, just confused. He didn’t know how to begin, didn’t know how to say what’s on his mind without sounding like he is accusing Spencer of something, or coming off as clingy.

“I’m,” Derek watched Reid bite his lip from the small bit of light he was given from the windows, a habit he would usually interrupt if they were beside each other– he would trace Spencer’s scarred lips with his thumb before offering him a chew gum. Strawberry flavoured to match the shampoo Spencer uses. “I left without saying anything. I’m sorry. Needed to clear my head.”

They have done this dance before, Derek would drop it after Spencer said that he needed to clear his head, and just say he is open for whenever Spencer wants to talk about it, but he can’t do this routine again, he needs to cut it before they jump back into the non-stop cycle. “Clear your head about what ?”

His eyes didn’t leave Spencer even as he shifted his placement on the couch to invite the other over. He watched the doctor kick off his shoes and neatly place them beside Morgan’s, he didn’t have a coat on even though Derek knew it was cold outside and Spencer is usually the first to complain about the lack of heat. 

“About... About us, really,” if there was any other activity going on in the room, Derek would’ve missed what Spencer said. But he heard it loud and clear. He knew it, he felt it coming from a mile away, but hearing it still felt like a punch to the gut. “What about us ?” It was harder to keep his voice level with the amount of worry oozing from him. And he knows Spencer notices that. They can always understand each other. Just not trust each other. 

Morgan only realised that he must’ve been silent for too long when Spencer continued, “I don’t know if I’m… If I’m doing this right. I just don’t know if I’m good at, at just being what you need.” It was weird how Spencer’s words mimicked Derek’s thoughts exactly. He stalled at the end of the couch, not making any movement to sit down but instead shifting his weight between his two feet.

“What I need ? Spencer, I’m not asking you to be anything other than who you are. The person I love.” Spencer’s eyes met his and not for the first time, Morgan saw the fear in them. Except the fear was not towards an unsub, or of the future, or of not knowing. It was the fear of not being enough for him. Something he never wanted Spencer to feel.

“I’m not used to this,” Spencer admitted quietly. “I’m not used to someone actually staying. I guess part of me just keeps waiting for you to realise I’m not worth it.” That made Derek’s breath catch in his throat and he had to make a conscious effort not to choke on it. He stood up slowly and crossed the small space between them so he could stand in front of Spencer, holding his sides.

“Spencer, you are everything to me.” He said without any hesitation, and without any hint of a lie. Spencer is a profiler, he should be able to read Morgan’s face and understand that there was nothing but truth in his voice, but he still looked sceptical. “You are the only person I need.” He continued. There was so much he wanted to say, but he can’t seem to verbalise it. Reid was always the better of the two with words.

“I don’t know how to trust that. I want to– I really do, but...” Spencer refused to look Derek in the eyes, which isn’t surprising but he wasn’t even trying to look in Morgan’s direction, looking to their feet as if that was the most interesting thing in the world. “You could have anyone. You know that–” It wasn’t often that Derek interrupted Spencer unless they were on a time restraint case, but he couldn’t let him continue that thought.

“But I don’t want anyone. I want you. I’m not going anywhere. You hear me ? I’m here. I’m staying,” he brought them over to the couch and cupped Spencer’s face gently, forcing him to look at him as he spoke. “You aren’t getting rid of me, Spencer Walter Reid.”“I trust you.” Spencer whispered, although it felt like it was more of a promise to himself than to Morgan. “I do. I just need to trust myself as well.”

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ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ͜　ㅤㅤㅤㅤ/over and over againㅤ 𓌔ㅤㅤ♰ ㅤdescriptionㅤㅤ˚̣̣̣ㅤbuck thought he got over the fact that maddie left. she is back, and that's all that matters… right ? ㅤwhumptoberㅤㅤ˚̣̣̣ㅤday two ; trust issues , amusement park .

ㅤmain pairㅤㅤ˚̣̣̣ㅤevan buckley & maddie buckley . ㅤao3 linkㅤㅤ˚̣̣̣ㅤclick here !

ㅤtagsㅤㅤ˚̣̣̣ㅤangst , hurt , no comfort . ㅤwarningsㅤㅤ˚̣̣̣ㅤpanic attacks , nothing major . ㅤword countㅤㅤ˚̣̣̣ㅤ1.6k

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ͜　ㅤㅤㅤㅤ/full fic below

It wasn’t often that the Buckley siblings manage to have time just for themselves. There is always someone else lingering around nearby, or a complication in their day out interrupting their plans. But today, for once, it was just them. Buck had no problem filling their conversations with facts and stories, and Maddie had no problem with listening, a light smile on her face as she helped weave him between families and groups of friends, holding his shirt so she could push and pull him when needed. Evan tends to lose all spatial awareness when he gets to a passionate part of one of his many stories. 

They couldn’t stay in this bubble forever though, eventually their legs started to grow tired from the mindless walking around in between rollercoaster rides; rides that Buck has to practically drag Maddie on each time, and their stomachs started to yell about water and food so once they got off their next ride, Maddie was on a mission to lead Buck to a place they’d be able to sit down and get food because god knows he would fight against eating until he is done with all his amusement park activities. 

“Wait here, I’m going to get some food for us because I’m hungry,” It was a dirty move, Maddie knew that Buck wouldn’t really complain (until they are actually done eating) if Maddie says it’s because she is hungry instead of saying they both are. Buck huffs but doesn’t really argue, he only plops himself down on wooden seats screwed to the ground. They are definitely old, what was new oak at one point in its lifetime was now a weathered down slab with the corners rounded over by weathering and being hit off. His hands knead at the giraffe teddy he won while unapologetically showing off to the man working the stall. He ends up actually winning five plushies, but he only kept one (the one that the same cute worker signed his phone number on the tag), and just gave the other’s to the kids around them.

For a while, he is content like that. He likes people watching, it was someone he does all the time. There are many times he looks out of his apartment’s window and studies the people that look like ants as they go about their day. It was one of his favourite parts about travelling too when he was younger, most of his jobs allowed him to indulge in this ‘hobby’. Bartending people watching was by far his favourite. He can’t help it, he loves watching people who have a life all of their own, he loves looking at how they interact with this world. Sometimes he tries to picture two strangers interacting. Sometimes he will go grab a coffee at new cafés so he can sit and watch as people come and go. 

After a while though, as the clock ticked by, an unease arose in his chest, an unfortunately familiar discomfort crept in.A tightness settled in his chest, his skin prickling with a sensation that felt like it was being pulled too tight over his bones. His mouth grew dry. He tried to swallow, but his throat felt like sandpaper and it got caught there. He felt guilty, but he couldn’t help but have the thought of ‘what if she doesn’t come back’ occupy the forefront of his mind. 

It’s not like it is exactly out of the question. It’s happened before, happened twice before, and it could happen again. Logically, he knows that’s not true. Maddie has gotten better, actually better– there was actual progress. She goes to therapy once a week and has been more open and honest about her emotions. Sure, there are bad days, bad weeks, but never enough for her to leave, it was not like before. Still, the thought clung to him, gnawing at the edges of his reason. Reasonably, he knows that she could just be in a large line, or there was an issue with making the food, or even that she got lost on her way back but will find her way eventually. He tried to push the thought of abandonment away, but it clawed its way back, more insistent.

He wasn’t sure when he’d learned that people don’t stay, but he knew it was a fact, like how the sky is blue, or how Bobby was the best chef out there. People leave, especially when he’s in the picture. He is similar to a train station, a place people only pass by to get from place A to place B (Buckley never knew he could feel sad for a train station). He is a limbo, an in between for people. Despite the long list of people who have left, sometimes without ever saying goodbye, he never got over it fully, never found a way to really understand or get used to it. Each time someone left, they took a bit of him with them, and he doesn’t know how much he has left.

He stood from the seat awkwardly, his knees hitting off the scrapped one as he tried to look over the constantly moving crowd. Not for the first time, he is glad for the extra bit of height he has on others. Panic tightened its grip on his chest, squeezing until it hurt. He knew he could spot Maddie in the most bustling of places, so the panic was tenfold when he couldn’t see her at all. Sitting back down, the teddy in his hands gripped so hard as if it would, too, leave him if given the chance. His mind spun with the possibilities, each one darker than the last. His breaths came faster, shorter, and his vision blurred at the edges. He didn’t know how much of himself he had left to lose if she walked away again.

All at once, he felt like he was twelve years old again, thrust into a world that suddenly seemed far too big and terrifying, forced to navigate it without his older sister. A familiar, sinking sensation crept into his chest, the same one he’d felt when she left for Boston, and when she left after Jee-Yun too. His thoughts began to churn, over and over, replaying the events of the day in relentless loops. Every single word exchanged, every glance, every pause; his brain picked them apart, desperately searching for the exact moment things had gone wrong. Had he said something wrong when they were walking to the amusement park ? Or was it when they were in line for the ferris wheel and he had laughed too loudly, or maybe when he didn’t laugh at all ? The questions swirled around in his mind, one after another, until they blurred together into an incoherent mess of self-doubt. And it wasn't just today; his mind went further back, dragging up memories of everything he had done or said for the past month, or maybe even longer.

His breaths came in sharp and shallow gasps, his chest rising and falling in quick loops, as if the very air he was taking in was being snatched away before it could fill his lungs. What does he tell Chimney ? How can he tell Chimney ? His brother-in-law blamed him when Maddie left the second time, and this time around it’s even more his fault. Every tiny mistake, every awkward moment, every perceived flaw in himself now felt magnified a hundredfold. He was searching for a reason, a single, tangible cause that would explain why. His stomach churned with a mix of anxiety and regret, an all-too-familiar feeling. He is glad his stomach was empty, because he wouldn’t have been able to stop the vomit. 

The crowd seemed to be in a whole different universe now. The noises around him were far muffled and distorted by now, as if he was underwater or in space, with only the thudding of his fast beating heart and the rasp of his struggling breath cutting through the fog, not only clear in his ears but overpoweringly loud. The edges of his vision darkened and brought everything he could see into a terrifying blur; out of the lack of full breaths or because of the tears gathering around his eyes, he didn't know. He didn’t notice that there were people noticing his panic, people worried about him.

His mind lost all fight for control as he gripped at the giraffe, biting nails digging into the soft fabric and his knuckles matching the white of the tag in an attempt to anchor himself, but he was only slipping more and more away from the world he lived in. He tried to steady himself, to pull in a deep breath, but it felt like trying to breathe through a straw, every inhale too thin, not enough air going in despite all his best efforts. He barely could register the wave of dizziness that washed over him like the biggest wave before it took him out, knocking his body from the slouched sitting position to the hard wooden floor. 

That drew in a bigger crowd, a crowd that Buck was none the wiser to as the shifting shadows of concerned people moved closer, their faces stretching and twisting like they were underwater and he knew they were talking to him. Buck can make out a moving mouth, and he knew he needed to respond but everything felt too heavy to even hum an answer. There was a quick passing moment that Evan thought he could come clawing back to earth, but it left as fast as it came, leaving him in the dark.

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ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ͜　ㅤㅤㅤㅤ/one foot in the tombㅤ 𓌔ㅤㅤ♰ ㅤwhumptoberㅤㅤ˚̣̣̣ㅤday one ; race against time . ㅤㅤㅤㅤaka . spencer's mind when he was digging his own grave .

ㅤmain museㅤㅤ˚̣̣̣ㅤspencer reid & tobias hankel . ㅤao3 linkㅤㅤ˚̣̣̣ㅤclick here !

ㅤtagsㅤㅤ˚̣̣̣ㅤangst , hurt , ambiguous ending , canon tale . ㅤwarningsㅤㅤ˚̣̣̣ㅤdeath , spoilers for tobias hankel . ㅤword countㅤㅤ˚̣̣̣ㅤ1.3k

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ͜　ㅤㅤㅤㅤ/full fic below

Spencer Reid’s breaths came out in shallow, uneven gasps, no matter how hard he tried to control his breathing, it was shaky. His raw and bloody fingers could hardly keep their grip on the wooden handle of the shovel, the tool feeling heavier and heavier with every passing moment as he hit it against the dry, flaky earth, it crumbled away with each agonising strike. The sun had started its slow descent, doing nothing to help Spencer other than making it harder for him to see, which was hard enough to do with the tears blurring his vision.

He knew he shouldn’t be crying. That he was a grown man and if it was anyone else from the team, there wouldn’t be dried tear lines down their faces. Then again, if it was anyone else from the team, they would’ve figured out a way to escape, they probably wouldn’t have even been kidnapped like he was. Now that the sun was no longer casting a heat around him like a suffocating blanket, he could feel the harsh winds, only getting worse as the night dragged on.

Tobias Hankel, or the man Tobias had become, stood a few feet away, His eyes were silent and watchful and never leaving the agent, and Spencer couldn't believe that those eyes would be one of the last things he would see. His hand was outstretched with a pistol. With Spencer’s pistol. His own weapon is going to be the thing to kill him. 

He tried not to focus on the man and instead continued to keep his attention on the hole he was forced to dig. His grave. Time was running out, both literally and figuratively. His mind raced, he always relied on his ability to think several steps ahead. He was meant to analyse, predict, and solve. But right now, right here, there was no equation with an answer, no clue that can be deciphered. Just the raw and undeniable truth of the end of his world. 

“God knows all things,” Tobias– no, Charles, intoned with his voice low and steady, and if Spencer ever went to church he could imagine his preacher delivering a sermon in the same tone. The voice had him pausing for only a second, knowing any longer could set him off. He wasn’t talking to Reid, not really. He was speaking to the earth, and to the silent judgement of the world he was convinced was surrounding them. “And He had decreed that those who have strayed from the path shall suffer for their sins.” 

At an earlier point, Reid may have continued to argue back, but any words he felt like he could say stopped at the back of his throat and he was afraid that if he opened his mouth, only a sob would come out. His body yelled with exhaustion, but he knows the next time he goes to rest, he won’t be waking up. He felt the dirt between his teeth as he attempted to keep breathing straight, trying to calm his racing heart that would soon stop beating.

He wanted to scream. To fight. To tell Tobias, or whatever part of Tobias was still there, that it didn’t have to be like this. That this was madness and not divine judgement. He tried that before, and it didn’t work. He had tried reason, tried empathy, tried to connect with the scarce amount of humanity that Reid convinced himself was still there. None of it had worked, and the clock just kept ticking.

A sharp metallic click snapped Spencer’s attention back to the graveyard he was standing in. The safety on the rifle was off. A warning. The pace of his digging had slowed, the weight of his limbs growing too heavy under the lack of food and sleep, and the surplus of torture . Charles didn’t need to speak to convey his message, Spencer heard it loud and clear. The grave needed to be finished, and Reid needed to do it faster. There was no time to waste.

His hands moved quicker despite all the protesting of his body. He felt the blisters on his palms pop and the sting of numerous open wounds mixing in with the dry earth. He couldn’t stop. If he stopped, Tobias would–. Reid wasn’t ready to face the end. Not yet. He knew he would never grow old, but he wasn’t prepared for it to end right now. He has food in his fridge he needs to eat before they expire, he has a call scheduled with his mother for next week, plans with the team. His life can’t stop now.

“Is this what God wants ?” Spencer rasped eventually, his throat dry and cracked from dehydration. He glanced up at Tobias, trying to read him. Was it Tobias he was talking to ? Or Charles ? Or Raphael ? “Does He– does He really want me to die like this ?” He was surprised that he could still talk, that he hadn’t given up completely yet. He hopes he didn’t imagine the hesitation in Tobias’s eyes.

“You dare question God’s will ?” Charles snapped, a statement more than a question, his voice laced with sudden anger, though it felt more performative than genuine now. It read like the voice of a man whose convictions were cracking. That hesitation might be the reason Reid gets to live another minute, another hour, another day. He needed to exploit it.

“I’m not– I’m not… questioning His will,” Spencer forced out once again, trying to keep his voice steady, trying to sound calm even though his hands were shaking uncontrollably and his head was pounding. “I just. I’m trying. I just don’t understand it. Why me ? Why now ?” Reid was playing a dangerous game and he knew that. One wrong word, one wrong tone and it could seal his fate. But he had nothing left to lose. “If God is merciful, why wouldn’t He want to give me a chance to repent ?”

The grip on the pistol tightened and Reid honestly wasn’t too sure if he should take that as a good sign or not. The pause could be what saves him, or what kills him. “It’s not up to me,” Charles finally said. It was better to hear his voice rather than a gunshot. “God has already made His decision. He sent me to deliver it. I am only His vessel.”

Reid stood straight, though the effort of doing that alone made his back scream in pain. His mind spun but he needed to concentrate, he can’t give up now. “What if you’re wrong ?” Reid asked quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. Like he was genuinely wondering instead of just stalling. “What if... what if God doesn’t want this at all ? What if He’s testing you ? To see if you’ll choose mercy ?” It was a long stretch and Spencer knew it. 

He continued, hoping his memory didn’t decide to fail on him now. “Luke 23:39–43,” he started, licking his dried lips as he rushed to continue. “As Jesus was crucified alongside two criminals, he extended mercy to one– ‘Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in paradise.’” He quoted. He has probably quoted the bible more times within the last 48 hours than he has in his whole lifetime. “No one is beyond forgiveness, even in their last hour,” he said quieter this time.

The conversation died there. But Spencer wasn’t okay with that, looking back at Tobias. “You have a choice. You can stop this. You can show mercy, choose to let me live.” He pleaded and watched as Tobias’s hands trembled on the pistol. He tried to get closer, it’s not classed as risking your life if your life is going to end anyway.

It seemed like time stopped the way Spencer dropped the shovel in the same second that he wrestled the gun. Then the clock stopped ticking and there was only one standing.

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ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ͜　ㅤㅤㅤㅤ/wave after waveㅤ 𓌔ㅤㅤ♰ ㅤwhumptoberㅤㅤ˚̣̣̣ㅤday one ; race against time , search party , panic attacks . ㅤㅤㅤㅤaka . a tsunami au .

ㅤmain museㅤㅤ˚̣̣̣ㅤevan buckley & 118 . ㅤao3 linkㅤㅤ˚̣̣̣ㅤclick here !

ㅤtagsㅤㅤ˚̣̣̣ㅤangst , hurt , ambiguous ending . ㅤwarningsㅤㅤ˚̣̣̣ㅤpanic attacks , nothing major . ㅤword countㅤㅤ˚̣̣̣ㅤ2.8k

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ͜　ㅤㅤㅤㅤ/fic excerpt below

It was only a split second before the calm pier turned into pure chaos. Excited conversations turned to fearful screams, parents grabbing their exploring children and couples pulling each other towards the exit. Buck knew he should follow them, that he should run through the crowd himself, but he found himself running around to make sure everyone was on the same page. And he was glad he did once he found an elderly woman sitting on a bench, seemingly in her own world like Evan himself was not too long ago.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ—

But before Buck could even begin to pull himself up, a surge of water came crashing into him from the side. The current was stronger, more violent than before. It tore at him with a ferocity that he couldn’t fight. One moment, he was holding onto the ledge, his fingers digging into the concrete, and the next, he was ripped away, his grip slipping as the water dragged him back into its relentless grip. He gasped as the icy water engulfed him, pulling him under, spinning him in the churning chaos. His world turned into a disorienting blur of dark water and floating debris. 

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ—

His limbs felt like lead, heavy and unresponsive. His thoughts spiralled, a chaotic tangle of fear and desperation. He needed to breathe, but each gasp brought more water than air, the salty burn of it stinging his throat and filling his lungs. The surface seemed impossibly far away, the light from above distorted, unreachable. This was it. He was going to drown. He always knew he was going to die alone and he thought he made his peace with that, but now that the moment is upon him, it’s scarier than ever. Panic swelled inside him, a tidal wave of terror that was almost as overwhelming as the physical water surrounding him. He couldn’t think, couldn’t focus. He was just a body being tossed and pulled by the relentless force of nature. He wasn’t in control.

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i am so sorry for anyone following my writing account this month

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ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ͜　ㅤㅤㅤㅤ/five years in the pastㅤ 𓌔ㅤㅤ♰ ㅤdescriptionㅤㅤ˚̣̣̣ㅤ"memories warm you up from the inside. but they also tear you apart" ㅤㅤㅤㅤwhere evan buckley forgets the last five years of his life, and he can't help but feel like everyone is hiding one major detail from him

ㅤmain museㅤㅤ˚̣̣̣ㅤevan buckley & eddie diaz . ㅤmain shipㅤㅤ˚̣̣̣ㅤbuddie .

ㅤtagsㅤㅤ˚̣̣̣ㅤangst , hurt/comfort , happy ending , amnesia . ㅤwarningsㅤㅤ˚̣̣̣ㅤmedical stuff , canon-typical violence .

ㅤmaeve's notesㅤㅤ˚̣̣̣ㅤnot actually posted yet , just can't get it out of my head .

Over the years, Evan Buckley has gained a friendship with death. First it was a scare, then it was a comfort. Buck knew he wasn’t immortal, he wasn’t impenetrable, but there was a thrill to knocking on death’s door, only to ditch it at the last moment. Eddie Diaz has seen his boyfriend on a hospital bed more times than he should, but he always woke up, he always left those hospital doors. Even when he died for three whole minutes, he came home after a week. 

And yet, despite the rise and the fall of his chest, Eddie doesn’t think he has ever seen Buck look so lifeless. He was more machine than man with all the wires and tubes attached to him. Maybe it was a good thing Buck wasn’t conscious because he definitely would’ve tripped over himself by now. Instead he was lying there silent, walking the fine line between life and whatever laid beyond that.

The rhythmic hissing of the ventilator was the only thing keeping Buck’s lungs moving, IV lines trailed from both arms, their clear fluids snaking up to the bags hanging on metal stands, one delivering saline while the other delivered medications. A thin tube peeked from the bandages wrapped around Buckley’s chest. But what Eddie hated the most out of it all was the nasogastric tube that snaked down one nostril so it could feed Evan the nutrients needed directly to his stomach. It was a sight Eddie has seen many, many times in his line of work, but this time he just couldn’t stomach it. 

How his usually bouncy and energetic partner who could do practically anything he set his mind to is reduced to someone who can’t even breath or eat by himself. It was wrong. Eddie’s back was aching from his poor posture with how long he spent holding Buck’s hand, ever since he got the go ahead to be beside his boyfriend, he hasn’t left. No matter how much his team tried to have him leave. The next time he is going out of those hospital doors it will be with Evan by his side.

729,132 seconds (729,133) since Eddie has last seen Evan standing live and well. Eight days, ten hours, thirty two minutes that he has been in a state of purgatory. He has left the room only to shower twice and to pee, even when there are other team members there to watch over Buck, he can’t bring himself to leave. 

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ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ͜　ㅤㅤㅤㅤ/memory's labyrinthㅤ 𓌔ㅤㅤ♰ ㅤdescriptionㅤㅤ˚̣̣̣ㅤ"memory is the diary that we all carry about with us." ㅤㅤㅤㅤwhere an unsub conditions spencer reid to electrotherapy , leaving him lost in a haze of forgotten memories .

ㅤmain museㅤㅤ˚̣̣̣ㅤspencer reid . ㅤmain pairㅤㅤ˚̣̣̣ㅤspencer reid and each bau member

ㅤtagsㅤㅤ˚̣̣̣ㅤangst , hurt/comfort , happy ending [most likely] . ㅤwarningsㅤㅤ˚̣̣̣ㅤmedical stuff , canon-typical violence .

ㅤmaeve's notesㅤㅤ˚̣̣̣ㅤnot actually posted yet , i just am loving the idea

Spencer's heart pounded, a frantic rhythm ripping through his chest as the first shock hit him, white-hot and blinding, the dark warehouse no longer in his vision as he tried to squeeze his eyes shut. Each pulse of electricity ripped through him, erasing pieces and pieces of his past, memories fading into a distant and unreachable fog. Relentless surges of pain overwhelming him again and again.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ—

The dim light of the warehouse flickered as JJ stepped inside with Rossi on her tail, their guns drawn and each nerve on edge. The silence was suffocating, broken only by the constant high-pitched hum of machinery that seemed to echo endlessly through the empty space, seeming to be the only sign of time passing. “Reid ?” Her voice cracked out, breaking the still that was in the dead building.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ—

Spencer sat silently in a chair, his eyes darting around the room, trying to piece together the puzzle of his surroundings. To anyone else, he would appear normal, but the team who has watched him grow could see the distant look in his eye, clearly struggling to remember the faces and names of those who had once been his closest friends– his family.

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ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ͜　ㅤㅤㅤㅤ/parallel healing blurbㅤ 𓌔ㅤㅤ♰ ㅤdescriptionㅤㅤ˚̣̣̣ㅤwhen reid and hotch were both put onto mental leave after both suffer a different type of traumatic event , they learn more about one another , and about themselves .

ㅤmain musesㅤㅤ˚̣̣̣ㅤaaron hotchner & spencer reid . ㅤmain pairㅤㅤ˚̣̣̣ㅤaaron hotchner / spencer reid [romance]

ㅤtagsㅤㅤ˚̣̣̣ㅤangst , hurt/comfort , eventual fluff . ㅤwarningsㅤㅤ˚̣̣̣ㅤnone in this part . spoilers for the show [tobias && foyet]

ㅤword foundㅤㅤ˚̣̣̣ㅤ335 . ㅤdate writtenㅤㅤ˚̣̣̣ㅤ16/05/2024 .

ㅤmaeve's notesㅤㅤ˚̣̣̣ㅤbased off a roleplay i'm doing . short because i am not sure if i will actually turn it into a fic or not yet .

Aaron Hotchner knows that people have been walking around eggshells with him ever since he lost Haley. He became more hostile to even those he held close to his labyrinth of a heart. No one could really blame him though, not after he lost his first love. It didn’t matter that they were divorced. He lost her two times before her death. First at the divorce, and second at being put into witness protection. The pain of each of those losses didn’t even start to compare to this. Maybe because Aaron tried to convince himself that they could still work out. That this wasn't forever, it was just temporary. Nothing is more permanent than death though, and he knows that.

He continued to work, pushing away the mental evaluation Erin Struass was pushing onto him, pushing away the concerning looks his teammates throw at him, pushing away his in-laws worries. Pushing away everything except for his son. Instead of spending late hours in his office, he brought the paperwork home so he could stay with Jack for longer. It was working (it wasn’t, but no one could convince him of that), until they got to the barn only to find JJ. Not JJ and Reid.

Hotch ripped apart the place, the barely contained anger coming out the longer and longer they couldn’t find him, the longer that they could only watch through a screen as their youngest team member suffered the works. Nevermind the injuries he faces offline. When they found him, Hotch wasn’t able to push away the guilt of messing up, the fear that he could’ve lost another part of his family. He also couldn’t push away his mental evaluation and was put on a mandatory three week leave, although he could extend it if he wanted. Reid’s one was to start once he got out of the hospital, and Aaron found his mouth moving faster than his mind. ”Do you want to stay at mine while you get back on your feet ?”

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i've been banned from talking about them to my friends </3 it's becoming an issue

I need someone to talk to me about hotchreid

Please im begging you im obsessed with them

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I’m getting back into writing, so have a Hotch/Reid snippet!

can… can i have a hug? please?

And a little bit of

oh, sweetheart- come here.

With a dash of

how long has it been since someone hugged you?

Type: Angsty Fluff

Warnings: Kinda just sad, brief mention of drugs

Spencer was very obviously the most touch starved of the group. It wasn’t to no fault of his, not really. It was clear he didn’t prefer physical contact most of the time, but Aaron wasn’t stupid. Aaron knew that despite Spencer’s sensory issues and mild germaphobic tendencies, he really just wanted to be hugged sometimes.

It was more obvious after some cases, when his arms wrapped around himself as he sat alone on the back of the plane, curled up as staring out of the window rather than reading whatever book he’d already read 7 or 8 times that week. It was only Wednesday after all.

It was less obvious after others, the itch of his hands as he read, how they’d twitch before he’d read a page. Aaron noticed, but he wasn’t sure that the others did, too careful of Spencer sensory. And Spencer clearly didn’t want to add more fuel to the fire of his own mind by his need of physical contact. But, Aaron wasn’t stupid. He was a profiler for a reason. But he wasn’t just going to jump down Spencer’s throat like that, putting him on the spot would be unhelpful and most likely backfire.

So, Aaron watched more intentionally. Trying to give an obvious sign to Spencer that he was here for him, should Spencer need him. It took a while, longer than Aaron liked to admit, but finally Spencer came into his office after hours.

The case had been a bad one. Having to deal with not only children, but Spencer was taken as a hostage and belittled so bad that Aaron was on the verge of shooting the man just to make him shut the hell up for good. Of course he couldn’t, that would risk his job, and more importantly Spencer’s life, but the thought definitely crossed his mind.

“Do you mind if I sit?” Spencer asked softly, and Aaron nodded slowly.

“Stay as long as you need,” he said gently, trying not to use that boss tone he knew he had. Spencer nodded, noting the attempt, and sat on the couch, curled up with his arms around himself once again, staring at the wall.

Aaron worked in silence, not going to push or pry answers out of the younger. He knew Spencer was struggling, and he had a terrible reputation when it came to asking for help. But Aaron hoped he was slowly working through that.

“You don’t believe him, do you?” Spencer whispered, finally. “You don’t… you don’t see me as a… drugged up, ratty—“

“No, Spencer,” Aaron cut him off, not allowing Spencer to repeat the words of the UnSub. “I don’t see you like that. No one does.”

“I do,” Spencer whispered, “I feel like that, sometimes. Sometimes I wonder if everything’s worth it.”

“It’s all worth it,” Aaron whispered.

“You would say that,” Spencer whispered, and Aaron set his pen down.

“Meaning?” Aaron asked without trying to sound offended or offput.

“Meaning you see me,” Spencer explained. “You see the man I’m trying to be. You… you understand… who I am in a way that most other’s can’t.”

“I’m perceptive,” Aaron reasoned.

“Yes,” Spencer agreed. “But you also care.”

“This team cares about you,” Aaron reasoned.

“They do,” Spencer nodded. “But they care so much about one thing, something you’ve been… overlooking lately.”

Aaron blinked.

“You’ve been staring at me, after cases. Reading me. I see your eyes. I feel them.”

“If I’ve made you uncomfortable, that wasn’t my intention,” Aaron promised.

“No, I know,” Spencer promised. “I just…” he inhaled slowly, his arms falling from where they were wrapped around him. “Can I have… have a hug? Please?”

Aaron exhaled slowly from where he sat, finally hearing the words come from Spencer’s mouth almost made him jump out of his chair. He still moved a bit too quick, but Spencer didn’t seem to mind or care as he quickly got off the couch, hearing Aaron’s gentle “oh sweetheart, come here,” and met Aaron halfway, wrapping his arms around Aaron’s shoulders, and Aaron’s arms around his waist.

Spencer almost broke right there. But Aaron held him up strong, as per usual. He kept his hold for as long as Spencer needed, or wanted, which was longer than he originally calculated.

“When was the last time someone hugged you?” Aaron whispered into his ear.

“Too long,” Spencer whispered, voice broken and scraggly as he pushed his nose into Aaron’s shoulder.

“Don’t let it ever be that long again,” Aaron whispered.

“I’m here, Spence. I’m right here.”

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Now tell me who gave them the right to look this good