#•°¯`•• JJ – can you feel his pure heart? ••`¯°•

[mothinked]

Salt Lake City to their next notable stop: Las Vegas. Passing through rather than detouring outside the city limits would have been suicide. It wouldn't matter how much firepower you had. Ellie doubted that even an army of hundreds could make it far. The first time she travelled there, the screeches of the infected kept her at a distance. Only her bow could be used to pick off any stragglers lest she bring down the masses upon herself. So she could only admire from afar what was once the most-visited city in the old world.

Reading about it and seeing the billboards made her wish she could wander into one of the upscale casino hotels... or see what remained of the famous neon-soaked Strip. The place was now certain death. Wayfaring, as dangerous as it was (especially off the beaten path), was something Ellie actually liked. There was so much she wanted to see—even if everything had been reduced to ruins, bare bones picked clean of what they used to be.

Ellie found that there was beauty in seeing the ways in which nature reclaimed the earth. Still, it was dangerous. But at least their little group had four sets of eyes and an array of weapons at the ready.

After about thirty minutes of walking, it was Lev who spoke first. He was taking turns with Ellie throwing a stick for Jack. The dog would sprint yards ahead of them at full-tilt, dampening his fur with the morning dew. By now blades of grass were plastered to his legs as well as their footwear. "What's Jackson like...?"

The cure for mankind stared at him pensively for a moment. She brought her hands up to hold onto the straps of her bag, leaving Lev to keep throwing the stick. "Jackson's... a well-established community now. Mostly folks who were looking for somewhere to settle with their families. It's pretty close to how things used to be in the old world... within the walls anyway." She nudged him gently and asked, "What's your home like?" What are the Fireflies like? was what Ellie meant to ask but decided she could judge for herself when the time came.

"The whole island's free of infected—" Her eyebrows shot up at this. "No shit?" He cracked a lopsided smile. "I shit you not."

She didn't look over at Abby for confirmation. The kid didn't seem like a liar. In fact, he had been remarkably candid with her this whole time. "Shit..." she muttered under her breath. There was a lot of 'shitting' going on. She turned her chuckle into a cough smothered by her sleeve. It was no wonder JJ started to cuss from a young age. Dina at least tried to censor herself but meanwhile had to scold Ellie for having a foul mouth in front of their son. What the fuck can ya do, right?

"The beaches are nice," Lev continued, uninterrupted. His sense of wonder reminded Ellie of her younger self. It made her heart feel... less heavy? She used to grieve who she once was. Not anymore. "I like to fish... I have a tank I keep some in."

This time, Ellie did not hide her amusement and let out a soft laugh. "You don't eat 'em?" He shook his head, smile still in place. "Only the big ones." By now Jack had decided playtime was over and trotted ahead. His stick was left behind. Lev seemed to grow more comfortable with her by the day although she never pushed for an interaction with him. Initially, she expected him to be silent and indifferent or even ignore her completely. Except it didn't appear to be in his nature. It was him who maintained this ever so tenuous truce between her and Abby.

When he spoke, Abby listened. She clearly cared about his opinion and kept the peace even when Ellie was being less than cooperative. Words were their weapons against each other rather than their fists. Oftentimes, she would stare at Abby like an animal that was unsure whether it wanted to fight or flee. All Ellie ever felt for this woman was pure, unadulterated rage and hatred that consumed everything like wildfire in her path. But now... Now she was seeing the human aspects of Abby Anderson. How she was as a person. Her habits and tendencies became known, as much as Ellie wished she didn't take notice of.

How she grinded her teeth while she slept. How she'd share everything with Lev and make sure he was alright after encounters with infected. Her need to assess. The meticulous behavior that would grate on Ellie's nerves at times.

They were in close quarters pretty much all day, every day. This allowed for Ellie to note the physical features that violent, bloody combat between them never had before. Most notable were the scars she and Dina inflicted upon Abby—faded yet permanent marks etched into her skin for all to see. Then there were her eyes, thought to be brown given how dark they were, but in reality were stormy blue. A shade she hadn't seen before. It was hard not to notice them and how they bore into her.

Ellie decided from there on out, she would finally let the tension go. To ease away as much as possible. Keep the past in the past. They needed to operate as a unit if they were to get to California in the coming weeks. The conversation about Abby's father was a turning point. It solidified the fact that this mutual goal, this whole cause, was so much bigger than the both of them and she needed to see it through this time.

There’s not a single part of Abby that wants anything to do with Ellie right now but tough shit. She’s got a job to do even if the other woman is going to be a perpetual thorn in her side. If Lev could pacify her and keep things peaceful between the two of them, she would owe him a great debt. At that moment, she was perfectly content with ignoring her and letting the two of them engage in good morning pleasantries. Her focus was instead on the west, taking in the sights as her eyes mapped out the route before them. If they were lucky, they could be out of the city limits within the day and back into the wilderness. As nice as it was to be familiar with the surroundings, being in the city left too much opportunity for runs ins with both infected and other people, some who may not be so agreeable.

Abby was silent as they walked, keeping a firm grip on her rifle. She wasn’t normally this tense and sometimes would sling it over her shoulder but she didn’t feel comfortable with doing so until they were clear of their surroundings. She was hyperfocused on the road before her, almost missing Ellie’s comment. What did she want, a medal? A heartfelt thank you? Blubbering out an emotional response? There was no plan to answer. Looking back at her, her glance then shifted to Lev who gave her a look to set her straight. As much as she loved the kid, god dammit he knew her too well and at times was the only reason she could be reeled back in to being a normal functioning human.

“That’s nice,” was what she managed with no plans on adding anything more but a another look to Lev and he was staring daggers at her. “It’s very nice, thanks.” There was the smallest hint of genuine thanks in her voice but there was still a part of her that was only saying it because she was feeling the peer pressure from her companion. Deep down she did appreciate it though. It was a nice gesture she didn’t have to partake in. In fact, she found slightly irony in it that her dad, who ahd never had a green thumb and always killed his plants, now had some live ones to look over him.

[endearng]

Like father, like daughter

Pairing: teenager dad!Spencer Reid x fem!reader Summary: Sometimes, you think Spencer made your daughter all on his own. Here are a few times that their manners supported your claim. WC: 2.7k Warnings: brief mentions of Spencer's past; mentions of underage drinking and bullying; he's an overprotective dad (because of course he is); JJ and Emily as a godmother couple <3<3<3 A/N: okay I'm super duper happy with how this one turned out. Yay!!! | Masterlist

Sitting together on your front porch, you and Spencer share the intimacy of the peaceful silence. Well, as far as peace goes — your 7 year-old son, Benjamin, plays with the dog, running back and forth, giggling and covering his entire overalls with mud. Barefoot in the grass, all you could do was pray they didn't mess the entire house when they eventually got back inside, but eh, that's a problem for future you. By your side, Spencer sits, focusing on going over his lecture plan for the day ahead, as barefoot as you are. There is a smudge of dirt in his cheek and your hands were feeling a little dry, proof from your earlier activities with Benji and the dog. After a couple minutes, Spencer places the paper aside, glancing lovingly as his son enjoyed being a kid.

You know, the whole projection thing. Spencer, as he raises his second child with you, feels as if his own childhood baggage means little to nothing now. Both of your kids are showered in the most pure love, and even though sometimes you struggle, like any other parents, you are proud of what you've achieved with them. Sometimes, Spencer just watches. Mesmerized. Entranced, as Benjamin discovers how the world works. They sit together by the small piano keyboard as his son attempts things in his own way, at his own pace. It is reinvigorating, to say the least, that the light given by your children and current life is able to burn some of the darkness that lingered in the back of his mind.

Between you two, Spencer is the quieter parent, while you often are seen as the ruler of the house due to his quiet nature. Despite it, all decisions regarding your children are taken together and, overall, you figure that it's how you've managed to stay together for this long. You are constantly discussing your relationship, both as a married couple and as parents, negotiating when some things get too rough or obscure for either of you, resigning when it's needed, but most importantly, loving each other all the way through.

Something that always catches your eye is how he manages to find his way into your heart every single day. You can only hope that's the case for you, too.

Running up to you, followed by a happily-wagging tail Midas, Benjamin giggled as he clutched your knee, resting his sweaty cheek on your thigh. "Mommy, Midas is doing it again.”

You stifle a laugh. Midas is a, thus far, small Samoyed puppy that reached about above Benjamin's knees. The fluffy friend had been a gift from his godmothers, JJ and Emily, after lots and lots of convincing that it would be good for the little boy. Despite the chaos he brings, you and Spencer find that Midas is great for your son's development and general well-being of the people in the house. In fact, Midas seems to have taken a special liking to you and to the little boy, following the two of you around the house whenever he could. Oh, well. Now you have three kids.

Anyway, by it, your son means to say that the dog was trying to climb him again, which, according to Benji, makes him feel ticklish. You gasped. "Oh, no! Midas, play nice!" You say, petting the dog's short ears as he wiggled his tail excitedly.

Benjamin seemed satisfied enough with your reprimand and Spencer smiles by your side, leaning down to plant a kiss to his son's cheek. "Daddy!" He shrieks, squirming and clutching your knee tighter, shoulders shaking with a childish giggle that makes you smile again.

Too involved in the moment, you two almost miss the arrival of your older daughter. Phoebe was almost turning 16. While having been a great child, not one to give you much trouble, her teenage years had been a challenging rollercoaster. First, during her early teenagehood, she struggled a lot to make friends after you and Spencer moved away from Washington, right after Benjamin's birth. You spent your days feeling worried and guilty for having seemingly taken her life away from her, and the thought ate you and your husband alive. Spencer barely slept, too focused on finding somewhere things might have gone wrong, where he might have done her wrong. After some therapy sessions and conversations with you and Spencer, she opened up to the two of you, quelling a bit of your blame. According to her, she felt homesick because the kids around her made her feel different from them. She didn't say anything further, and both you and Spencer respected the confidentiality between her and her therapist, who had filled you in on her behavior and guaranteed that there was nothing for us to worry about. Reluctantly, you believed her word, but never failed to keep her company.

Spencer, during that phase, went out of his way to be close to Phoebe. He took her out to the movies and they spent countless hours discussing them, taught her way around whatever subject she would have trouble with at school and the two of them danced together when she came home with an A+ on her tests. Besides, he delved deeply into her hobbies — you would never forget the day that they came home after a skating session and Spencer had a tear in his pants that exposed a bruised, bleeding knee. You tried to be as close to her as she let you, showing her around town, having weekly hangouts at her favorite ice-cream parlour, going shopping, listening about her days... One day, Spencer had traveled to be a consultant for the BAU for one particular demanding case. You two cared for Benjamin all night long and, pensively, Phoebe glanced between you and the baby securely cradled in your arms.

You had gotten the hint. Or so you thought.

"Hi, mom. Hi, dad. Benji. Midas." She greets, a bit awkwardly, wavy brown hair flowing with the soft breeze of wind.

"Midas says hi." Benji smiles, now back to being good friends with the dog, the two of them sitting on the grass in front of you and Spencer.

“Hi, sweetie.”

“Hi, Ladybug.” Spencer greets back, beaming.

Ladybug. It was the second nickname that Spencer had come up with after formally introducing himself to your newborn baby.

The baby was as red as a tomato from all the exertion of the moment and from her loud crying. Tears rolled down your face as you cradled your daughter against your chest, taking in her soft features, already feeling the sheer force of an overwhelming love. She had the soft curve of her dad's nose, her small pout reminiscent of Spencer's on his baby pictures. You almost wanted to feel frustrated for carrying her for nine months for her to come as a doppelganger of her dad. As you rocked her softly, her skin touching yours, her crying subsided, giving way to big curious eyes looking all around — guess which color. Damn it.

Next to you, Spencer kneeled to get a good look on her face. He was mesmerized as he found in her eyes and soft little pout the traces of his complexion. “Hi, Phoebe… you're so pretty, baby. I'm Spencer, your daddy. Look, this is your mommy…”

As he picked her from your arms, with the utmost care in the world, terrified that he'd drop her or break her were he to use too much strength, he felt complete. There would always be someone to look up to, to be someone for. And the thought made him equally frightened as delighted. "You look like a little dragon," he mumbled playfully instead, trying to downplay the tears that were forming in the corner of his eyes.

Biting back an amused grin, tears brimming in your own eyes, you scolded, "I'm not letting you call our beautiful daughter a dragon, Spence!"

Obediently, he settled for an endeared whisper of Ladybug.

Phoebe mirrors her dad's expression. Sometimes, she looks eerily like him. The features, mannerisms, interests... "I was thinking that, um... since finals are over, maybe I could go to the movies?" She asks, nervously. The same fidgeting hands from Spencer all those years ago. You try not to swoon.

Spencer gives her a weird look, but she's too busy waiting for your answer that she misses it. Naturally, she would ask for your permission, just like Spencer himself and Benjamin went up to you to check if it was okay to make physics magic — you had once stepped on one that they had left lying on the floor, and it wasn't pretty. Neither the ache in your foot, nor your reprimand.

You smile, happy that she's taking upon herself to have her own free-time activities. "Of course, sweetie, it's alright." You answer neutrally, not missing to read the subtle glance that Spencer throws your way. "Who are you going with?”

“Some friends.”

“What friends?” Spencer inquiries.

Fidgeting, she answers, “Kristen, Charlie and Alison.”

“I don't know any of—”

You cut your husband's mutter off with a nudge of your elbow on his rib. "Alright, sweetie. I can drive you to the cinema.”

"No need!" She says, rushed. "We'll meet at Charlie's to walk there together.”

Spencer looks alarmed with anxiety. You were amused, but still played the part, feeding into both Spencer and Phoebe's own perspective of the right outcome of the situation. “Are you sure, Phoebe?”

“Yeah, mom. Don't worry.” She says, shyly, that little look in her eye that tells you she is hiding something. “Thanks for offering, though.”

“Of course, baby.”

Smiling softly, she dashes back into the house. Spencer shrieks by your side, “why would you do that?!”

You remain composed as ever. “Do what?”

He glares at your feigned-innocence tone.

"Spence, darling, Phoebe needs to trust us. Aren't you happy she's making friends and taking the initiative of going out?”

Spencer looks conflicted for a second. "Still, I don't know any of these people. They could be doing all sorts of wrong stuff, not to mention the influence they can have on Phoebe.”

“Spence, Charlie lives down the street. She's the one who was here the other day.”

He falters for a moment, searching his brain for the Charlie girl as you make a small gesture above your shoulder, meaning her haircut. “They are teenagers!”

“Darling,” you say, placing your hand on his shoulder. “They're going to watch a movie. Trust her judgment, okay?” You ask, biting back a grin, amused by his sheer nervousness. You search Benjamin's eyes as if to say, can you believe this guy?!

You don't find them, though. Midas is trying to climb him again at a distance.

"Oh, so you're not taking this seriously, huh?" He asks, mildly upset.

"Darling, I am!” You say, smiling. “But Phoebe is a good kid. I think you're overreacting." You mumble the last part, glancing back at Benjamin. Midas is licking his face. You try not to think that just earlier, the dog was chewing on a dirty shoe.

"Overreacting?!"

You look at him, softening. He looks almost panicked. "Do you want me to call their parents? I'm sure she's left their numbers, like we always asked and she's rarely done because she doesn't leave the house without us." You say in a light tone, standing up, making your way inside the house to grab your cell phone. Spencer waits behind, anxiously, keeping an eye on Benjamin and his friend who were now playing fetch.

Barely sitting back on the chair, he starts, "A research shows that around 22.7 percent of high school students have consumed one drink of alcohol on at least one day in the month prior to this specific survey? Do you know how alarming that is? Besides, the results concluded that alcohol consumption is higher among female students.”

"Gee, and you're telling me we have one of these sleeping under the same roof as us?" You ask, amused, scrolling through your phone, and you can hear him huffing softly. Finding your and Phoebe's messages chat, which, like expected, were now spammed with the adults’ phone numbers, you show it to Spencer.

He breathes in. "I'm not convinced." He grumbles.

"Spence, come on, sweetheart... We've always been so careful with Phoebe. I think we should give her a little credit and be happy that she's taking her own steps." You say, now with an earnest tone. He sighs. “Plus, we do know which kind of behaviors and environments lead to underage drinking. We have a safe space.”

"You're right, you're right. I just... I'm so scared, you know? I guess I was secretly relieved to see that she was quieter like me, but I guess that's just me frustrated that she now gets a life of her own. And, you know, I've seen it all... I don't ever want anything to happen to her. Or to Benji. Not you, either. God, not you. Hell, not even Midas."

You chuckle softly, placing your hand on his shoulder again, giving it a gentle squeeze and kissing his temple. "We have the best one on our backs all the time. Can't go wrong with that."

Spencer smiles, seeming to finally have believed you. You two share a knowing, happy glance that spoke many things. Amidst them, there is the unchangeable, non negotiable, explicit truth: I'm so happy you're the one I'm doing this with.

As he stands up to clean up both Benjamin and Midas before they enter the house back again, you check the location that you had asked for her to share when you were inside the house. Cinema. Oof.

What? Even teenagers scare teenagers. How would they not scare you?!

—

Soon enough, Phoebe's social life blooms into weekly hangouts with those friends. Eventually, they began to come over to your home and Spencer was slowly warming up to them. The house, which barely registered Phoebe's voice before then, was now filled with laughter and young voices discussing things such as pop music, bands, politics and celebrities. Things go smoothly as ever. There is just a single problem that Phoebe chooses not to address. Whenever the girls go to the movies, Phoebe always feels a presence looming around. Call it sixth sense or being a girl, but sometimes, she can't help but feel like she is being watched.

Spencer, before meeting you, was as quiet and reserved as a stranger in a new country, only opening his mouth to speak about facts and relevant information to the cases in which he worked. It was well after your relationship that he began to speak more freely, more spontaneously. After six dates, you found out how his laughter sounded. It was shy, but it had an inherent adorableness to it that it was easily distinguished from the rest. It is an oddly endearing sound that Phoebe knew all too well, too used to hearing it from his (existential) dad jokes.

When she gets home, wearing a shoe of each color, matching with Kristen, Phoebe doesn't mention the familiar laughter at the movies. Instead, she just greets her dad and they have a glancing contest, a conversation in which you are nothing but a spectator. In the silence, they bloom together.

It was when Benji was almost turning eight, on a bet with his sister that he couldn't find the presents you and Spencer had gotten him earlier, that he found a love letter filled with soft pink lipstick marks under her bed. Benji showed it to you and your husband to ask why someone would kiss paper. After Spencer stuttered out an excuse and your son left to sit on the couch, you grinned. “It runs in the family,” you teased, remembering how Spencer would struggle to speak properly around you back when you were simply dating.

The lipstick shade matched the one Kristen was always wearing. Phoebe couldn't look you in the eye for a week after she got home and saw you and Spencer examining the paper in your hands, struggling to find the words to talk to Benji.

At Benji's birthday/Halloween party, Phoebe and Kristen dressed up as Marceline and Bubblegum. You, Spencer and Benji wore Scooby Doo's gang costumes with small pride pins on your chests. Midas wore a rainbow tie. A silent manifestation of your support, willing the two of them to speak at their own pace.

As you cleaned up as much as you could, guests already on their way home, Kristen approached you, an almost apprehensive edge on her voice, “Mrs. Reid, may I speak to you and your husband for a moment?”

You and Spencer shared a knowing look, already familiar with the outcome of that moment.

This is the simplest yet rarest joy in your life. To share it with Spencer.

[dramagodesss]

ten : halloween night

playin' the players

a/n: there's text inbetween images + pls imagine jj is by y/n's side on topper's story— enjoy! (specially winscam fans...)

the night's been crazy.

and lets admit it, you're drunk. pretty damn drunk.

so drunk that, somehow, you've ended up dancing. the kind of dancing that’s just movement and tequila and bass so loud it vibrates your bones. your angel costume’s hanging on by pure intention at this point — glitter on your collarbone, skirt bunched up, wings half-detached.

you’re giggling, flushed, already several shots deep.

jj’s right there — cowboy hat tilted, belt buckle catching the light, hands grazing your waist like he’s daring himself to touch more.

“you always dance like this, or just when you’re trying to kill me?” he murmurs, lips brushing your ear.

you toss your head back with a laugh, cheeks burning. “you gonna whine about it or keep up, cowboy?”

he smirks, pulling you in, and the two of you are moving — close, messy, way too flirty. you let your head fall back, arms looping around his neck, and he spins you right into him. chest to chest. thighs brushing.

but then—

you feel it. like static. like heat from across the room.

you look up.

rafe.

leaning against the wall in that devil costume, horns perched perfectly in that tousled blond hair. red silk shirt unbuttoned halfway down his chest, sleeves rolled up, jaw clenched tight.

and he’s watching you.

not the crowd. not the party. not the girl talking to him with her hand on his bicep.

just you.

his eyes dark, unreadable, trailing over the way jj’s hand slips just a little lower on your back. over the way you laugh, loose and tipsy. over the sway of your hips and the way jj’s mouth gets dangerously close to your neck.

and you don’t look away.

you meet his stare.

and smile. sweet. wicked. drunk on attention and fire.

jj leans down again, mumbling something about getting another drink, but you barely hear him — not when rafe finally pushes off the wall, brushing off the girl beside him without a word.

and starts walking straight toward you.

you’re in the middle now. cowboy at your side. devil on the approach.

heart pounding.

but at some point you need to go to the bathroom, and thats when john b and pope catch you near the staircase.

john b looks like he just committed tax fraud. pope’s sweating like he’s about to deliver a ted talk. you? you’re sipping tequila punch out of a red solo cup with a loose smile on your lips.

“hey—hey, y/n,” john b starts, voice a little too serious for a party this loud. “can we, uh… talk to you for a second?”

you blink slowly, like the request’s in slow motion. “you are talking to me. congrats.”

pope forces a nervous laugh. “privately. please.”

you raise a brow but let them tug you toward the hallway by the coat closet. the music dulls just enough for serious vibes to settle in.

john b takes a deep breath. “okay, so this might sound bad. like—really bad. but we think you should know…”

pope finishes for him, quick and hushed, “jj and rafe made a bet.”

you blink again.

“a bet?” you echo, tilting your head.

“about you,” pope says. “whoever got to sleep with you first would get the lake house for spring break.”

there’s a pause. a long one.

and then—you giggle. a soft, drunk, dangerous sound.

“oh my god. that’s what you’re all panicked about?”

they both stare at you like you just admitted to murder.

“you’re… not mad?” john b asks slowly.

you smile, bright and wicked. “babe. i already knew.”

they blink. once. twice.

“wait—since when?” pope demands.

you shrug, casual as hell. “since the first night. when yall were talking about it in the kitchen— you guys really suck at whispering, by the way.”

john b groans, dragging a hand down his face. “shit.”

you grin wider. “i figured if they wanted to play a game… i’d just play it better.”

with that, you take a long sip from your cup, adjust your crooked halo, and toss your hair back like you’re on a runway. then you turn, sauntering back toward the music.

over your shoulder, you throw them a wink. “appreciate the concern though. y’all are cute.”

later that night, you’re on the floor in the middle of a half-circle of frat couches, glitter stuck to your collarbones, costume wings long gone. there’s a bottle of tequila spinning on the floor like it’s about to choose your fate.

cleo’s lounging with a smirk, cheeks flushed and eyes sharp. “truth or dare, t/n?”

you squint at her through mascara-heavy lashes, sipping whatever’s left in your solo cup. “dare. obviously.”

cleo’s grin goes nuclear. “take a body shot. from rafe.”

you blink. your heart hiccups.

the group lets out a collective “oooohhh” like a sitcom laugh track. someone hoots. someone else drops their drink.

you shoot cleo a look. “you’re evil.”

“and yet you love me.” she winks, then gestures behind you. “come on, devil boy’s waiting.”

you turn.

rafe’s already leaning back on his elbows, smug as hell in that stupid red button-down left mostly unbuttoned, horns perched in his hair like he was born with them. he raises a brow, waiting for your reaction. expecting you to back down.

you crawl over, straddling his hips with a giggle you try to bite back. your hands settle on his chest. you can feel him tense—just a little—beneath you.

“you good?” you murmur, voice low.

he nods, pupils blown wide. “i’m great.”

someone hands you the lime and salt. someone else tops off the tequila in a little shot glass.

cleo pipes up, “don’t forget the rules! salt, shot, lime—in that order!”

you glance at rafe. “may i, your magesty?”

he smirks, lips twitching. “go ahead, angel”

you lick a line across his collarbone before your brain catches up with your body. you sprinkle the salt. he shivers. so do you.

cheers erupt around you.

then—shot glass in hand—you lean down, lips brushing just over his chest as you lick the salt, toss back the tequila, and press the lime between your lips before leaning in, teeth gently pushing it past his.

it’s not a kiss. not really. but it’s close enough to feel like one.

and rafe? he doesn’t move. doesn’t blink. just stares at you like you’ve rewritten the rules of gravity.

you pull back, lips wet, eyes sparkling.

“so close and so far at the same time” you murmur sweetly, only for him to hear, climbing off him and sinking back into the circle.

jj is very, very quiet across the room. he downs the rest of his drink in one go.

cleo cackles like she just won the lottery. “your turn, t/n. spin the bottle.”

you smirk, fingers already reaching.

a while later, after the game has ended, a hand closes around your wrist.

warm. confident. familiar.

you turn, blinking up — it’s rafe.

his eyes are dark under the red glow of devil horns, pupils blown wide, jaw tight like he’s holding back something dangerous.

“come here,” he mutters, voice low, brushing just under the music. “need you for a sec.”

you blink. “i was gonna—”

“trust me,” he says, already tugging you up, weaving you past sweaty bodies and sticky floors until you’re pressed into the shadowy side hallway near the laundry room.

a door swings open.

a coat closet.

he nudges you in, follows, and closes the door behind him with a soft click.

you’re squished between rows of jackets and the hard press of his chest, your back against the wall. the music is muffled now, like the whole world got dipped underwater. it smells like old cologne and cedar and him.

“rafe—?”

“you look,” he breathes, voice ragged, “fucking dangerous in that outfit.”

his eyes trail over your costume — the shimmer on your skin, the curve of your mouth, the way your skirt rides up just slightly. he lets out a quiet groan and presses his forehead to yours.

“been trying to be chill all night,” he murmurs. “but you? dancing? those shots? that fucking body shot?”

you smile, slow and wicked. “jealous?”

his laugh is more like a growl. “starving.”

and then he kisses you.

hot. messy. all tongue and teeth and low groans against your mouth. his hands bracket your hips like he needs to anchor himself, like if he doesn’t touch you harder he’ll combust.

you gasp into him and he takes it as invitation — mouths slanting deeper, heat rolling off him in waves. his hands are under your thighs before you register the lift, and suddenly you’re perched on top of a pile of folded towels, legs wrapped around his waist, breaths tangled like smoke.

“you drive me crazy,” he mutters, kissing down your jaw, your neck, your shoulder.

“good,” you whisper, tugging at his shirt collar. “drive better when you’re desperate.”

he laughs, a sound low and wrecked, before catching your mouth again — and this time, it’s slower. deeper. like he’s trying to remember the shape of you with his lips.

taglist : @beewritess @davinashifts333 @lanasangelsz @littlefreak-liz @drewstarkeyswife0 @lalaloopsieparty @ethanthequeefqueen @wtfisastiles @angelicameron @moth-feeet @drewstarkeyswife-7 @hiphopstar @cokewithcameron @cameronsbabydoll @chillgal135 @ayy1234567 @pogueprincesa @isinpfortvdmen @iheartrosalia @luvrclub @yesshewrites1 @sideboobrry11 @espressh0e @mysticbby2009 @arianagreenblattfanxx10 @hwaaholic @aves05 @thecolorpearl05 @dreamybabbyy @wintercrows @lesbiana2 @chillgal135 @verycherryblossomhideout @daddyrafeslittleslut

[mayanneaa]

gossip girl - ᴊᴊ ᴍᴀʏʙᴀɴᴋ.

PAIRING : jj maybank x reader

SUMMARY : you train jj to be a proper gossiper.

WARNING(S) : established relationship!! slight swearing but it's pure fluff!, not proofread

A/N : xoxo. my tummy hurts so fucking bad. also this one's ending might be a little shitty forgive me pls (divider by @roseraris)

WC : 1k

masterlist.

“JJ!” You exclaim, skipping through the Chateau, looking for your boyfriend. The air is sticky, filled with the smell of wood, salt, and beer.

You make your way through the living room and spot your boyfriend in the back, lying on one of the hammocks.

He covers his face with his arm, slowly swinging.

“Jay, you have to hear this!”

JJ sits up the second he hears your voice, his eyes almost shut. “Hi, baby.”

He extends his arms, and you quickly hug him, leaving a peck on his lips.

“Okay, so you better hold on to this hammock, because—”

“Woah, woah. Wait,” he says, rubbing his eyes and moving in the hammock, trying to give you some space. “What’s going on?”

You grit your teeth while sitting on the edge of the worn-out material, not being able to keep this to yourself any longer. “Ugh, remember when I told you my mom asked me to go help the Jones? They just moved back here but without Ben.”

JJ furrows his brows, “Ben? The father…?”

You nod, “Yes! Well, their daughter is our age, and, by the way, she’s super sweet! Maybe I should invite her over here—”

“You’re drifting off the topic, baby.” JJ reminds you, now fully awake and interested in your story.

“Yeah, right. When I got there, she seemed kinda sad and annoyed, so as the good person that I am, I asked her what was wrong, and she spilled the whole tea! Everything!” You ramble, animating with your arms, and JJ watches your every move with a slight smile, clearly amused.

“She said her father cheated on Ms. Jones with a girl who’s barely 20! Do you understand that?!”

JJ giggles under his breath, lying back down. “Yeah. That’s so fucking messed up…”

“Right?” you say before you take a deep breath, “She mentioned that that side chick used to live here and that we might know her, but i have no idea who could that be.”

“Damn, you gossip like an old lady.” Your boyfriend says, pulling you to his chest. You gasp, dramatically placing your hand on your heart.

“I will find out. I mean, who cheats on such a beautiful woman like Ms. Jones? Especially this… this Ben? He looks like he sneaked onto the Earth—”

“Woah, woah, chill!”

You sit on the couch in your living room, sipping the juice from the recipe you just tried out and trying to get through a book when you get a notification.

With a sigh, you reach for your phone to read the message you got from JJ. He’s supposed to pick up his hoodie, which he left there last week.

A few minutes later the comfortable silence gets broken with the loud ring of the bell.

JJ doesn’t even hesitate, he just comes in without a second thought. You take a look at his face and can immediately tell he’s not in the best mood. He immediately comes up to you.

“Hi,” you say as he leans in to kiss the top of your head. “What’s up?”

He grunts, “I had to go and fix the AC at the Jones house. They were talking so fucking loud my head feels like exploding—”

You let out a gasp, and your eyes glisten. “At the Jones? What were they talking about?”

JJ squints his eyes, “Uhh I don’t know? I stopped paying attention after some man joined in.”

You look at him, disappointment mixed with disbelief. “Are you serious?”

“Well, yeah, they were arguing so I just did my thing and left.”

You groan. “You are kidding me. JJ, you could’ve heard something about the drama!”

He widens his eyes, a sheepish smile crawling onto his lips. “Ohhh, right… I’m sorry, baby.”

Your lips form into a pout, and JJ raises his eyebrows. “Nuh-uh, don’t pout at me for this. I’m not a gossiper, you know that.”

“Well, I know, I know…”

“But I promise I’ll tell you anything I hear.”

You sigh and hug him, breathing in his scent. “You better.”

You don’t even know when did you drift off to sleep, sitting on the back porch at the Chateau. The soft breeze and whistles of wind put you to sleep like a lullaby.

The front doors close with a loud crack, announcing that JJ has returned from the shop. You and the Pogues were supposed to have dinner tonight, and your boyfriend had to go and buy all the missing ingredients.

“Baby, you won’t believe it!”

You slowly open your eyes, eyelids fluttering from the orange sunset sky. You hum, and JJ runs outside, the grocery bag still in his hand.

“Did you get everything?” You ask, stretching your arms with a yawn.

“Yeah, I think so, anyway…” He speaks so fast you have to gain your consciousness quickly in order to understand what he’s saying. “Guess who I met at the store!”

You squint, trying to come up with a name in your mind, still fogged up with sleep. “Rafe?”

JJ shakes his head and you click your tongue.

“Topper?”

“No!” he gets a bit frustrated, a sight that makes you laugh. “What was a thing you were super invested in?”

Your eyes widen. “The Jones?”

JJ’s grin grows even wider. “Yes! Oh my God, would you believe that the man I saw is actually Ms. Jones’ new boyfriend? And that’s not the best part. He’s Ben’s cousin who’s much more successful too! This man owns four different restaurants and has three houses in Asia, Europe, and South America. He’s crazy rich!”

You gasp. “Wow. You really clocked all of this, didn’t you?”

He looks at you, a proud look on his face. “Duh. It was so much fun!”

JJ starts to tell you the story about how he had to follow them in different isles to hear everything and in the meantime, you check the grocery bag.

“…Then they moved to the dairy fridges, so naturally I went after them and—”

“JJ.”

“Huh?”

“You forgot half of the products...”

[monzabee]

breathe (2 AM) - s. reid

criminal minds masterlist ||

Summary: it’s 2 AM and you are out of breath. oh, and you really have something important to tell your best friend. 

Pairing: postprison!spencer reid x fem!reader

Word Count: 1.1k 

Warnings: kissing, kinda angsty but also not, running  

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms. 

Breathe, you remind yourself as you push your legs to run faster, breathe. 

Then, you look at the watch on your wrist–it reads, 2 AM. Nothing good happens after 2 AM, you think. You should turn back, go home, forget about everything you’re about to do.  

It’s pure madness.  

The type of crazy you never go for under normal circumstances but nothing about this situation is normal anyway, so why dwell on it unnecessarily? Your mind is still swirling with Spencer’s words earlier that evening, and Penelope’s words from moments ago which has you running through the streets of downtown Virginia–something Spencer is probably going to scold for you, though you’ve always been an avid believer in asking for forgiveness rather than permission.  

“If you don’t tell him now, when will you tell him?” That was the last thing Penelope asked you before you made your way out of her apartment. Simple, blunt even, as if the answer should have been obvious. And maybe it should have been. Maybe you should have done this hours ago when Spencer was looking at you, almost pleadingly–or even days ago, maybe even months ago. But fear has always been a comfortable excuse, and love?  

Love is terrifying. 

“But isn’t love worth it?” Emily asked when you told her just how much you were afraid of messing things up. Because that has always been the problem, hasn’t it? It’s always you that messed up, never the other person, but always you. And messing up with Spencer means losing him, which could never be an option.  

“You could never lose Spencer,” JJ assured you, not hesitating to also point out, “he’s the most stubborn person I know, and he wouldn’t let that happen.” 

Yet, the fear still lingers, curling around your ribs like a vice. Because what if they’re wrong? It’s easy to say it in your mind, but what if saying it out loud changes everything?  

You push the thought away as you turn the last corner, Spencer’s apartment now in sight. The building is quiet, the streetlights casting long, lonely shadows on the pavement. Your heart is pounding, not from the run, but from the sheer weight of what you’re about to do. 

Breathe, you remind yourself as you force yourself to walk up to his building. It’s 2.08 AM now. Breathe, you force yourself as you inhale deeply, closing your eyes for just a second. You can do this. 

Your hands are shaking as you reach for the door, the cool metal grounding you for a brief moment before you finally push it open. The hallway is dimly lit, eerily quiet at this hour, and each step toward his apartment feels heavier than the last. The doorman gives you a small smile, and you try to return it as best as you can.  

Your lungs burn from running all the way as you force yourself up the stairs, practically skipping every other step. This is Spencer, you remind yourself. Your best friend. The one person who has always been safe. So why does this feel like the scariest thing you’ve ever done? You couldn’t have imagined the look he’d given you before you left work, right? That look; the way his gaze lingered just a second too long, the way his lips parted like he wanted to say something but never did – it’s what got you here in the first place. 

You reach his door before you can second-guess yourself again. Raising a fist, you knock–soft at first, then firmer when there’s no immediate response. 

For a moment, nothing. Then, footsteps. The faint sound of locks clicking open, revealing Spencer in sweatpants and an old t-shirt, his hair a disheveled mess. He blinks at you, sleep still evident in his eyes, but the second he registers that it’s you standing in his doorway at–he glances at the clock, 2.10 AM, his brows furrow in concern. 

“Are you okay?” His voice is rough, a little breathless like he wasn’t expecting you, but his brows furrow, scanning you for any sign of distress. “What’s wrong? You are shivering.” 

For a moment he looks like him again, the Spencer who didn’t spend three months in prison, who didn’t see his girlfriend get shot right before his eyes–the Spencer, who wasn’t forced into a drug addition by one of the unsubs.  

He calls your name, and your eyes focus on him again, “Hey.” His voice is softer now as he takes a step closer to you, “Talk to me.” 

You swallow hard. Breathe. 

“I–” You stop, shaking your head. No more stalling. No more running. You take a shaky breath, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. Say it. Just say it. Just say it, goddamn it. “I couldn’t wait until tomorrow,” you admit, voice barely above a whisper. “I tried, but I–” Another breath. Another step forward. “I love you, Spencer.” 

The words hang between you, heavy and fragile all at once. Spencer blinks. His lips part slightly like he wants to say something, but for a long moment, he just stares at you. And you start to panic. 

What if I read everything wrong? What if I just ruined everything? 

But then; so softly, like he’s afraid of breaking the moment, he exhales your name. 

“You– ” He swallows hard, his voice almost shaking. “You love me?” 

You nod, your heart beatin in your ears. “I do.” 

He takes another step forward, so close now you can see the exact moment his breath hitches. His hands hover for a second–like he’s giving you one last chance to pull away before they gently frame your face, fingertips barely pressing into your skin. 

“I love you, too,” he murmurs. “I think I always have.” 

Your heart stutters. “You do?” 

Spencer lets out a soft, breathless laugh. “I was going to tell you tomorrow. But I’m really glad you didn’t wait.” 

And then he kisses you. 

It’s hesitant at first, careful like he’s trying to memorize everything, the way you feel, the way you taste, the way you sigh against his lips. Then, he deepens it, arms winding around you like he’s afraid you might disappear. His arms envelope you as his hands thread through your hair, holding you even closer to himself. 

When he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I can’t believe you ran here,” he murmurs, amusement laced in his voice. 

You laugh softly; breath still uneven. “How’d you know?” 

“You’re out of breath,” Spencer presses another lingering kiss to your forehead before whispering, “Breathe.” 

[jjslvt]

being jj maybank’s safe haven (concept? blurb? drabble?)

i just love writing the reader being this for jj — his comfort person because he needs that more than anyone (i might be self-projecting onto him there a bit btw sorry asdfghjkl). jj maybank being glued to your hip when you’re together because he feels at pure bliss for once in his hard life; a concept he had to get used to because it was so strange for him not to be on edge, especially with people. the tension just leaving his body because there he is, resting his cute chin on your shoulder, and arms tight around your waist. secretly afraid that if he lets go, you might vanish into thin air but he knows you never would. his eyes closing as he breathes in your scent, enjoying how you smell (maybe you smell like the beach to him, one of his favorite places) and he’s thinking you are his home. no, he knows, you are. you’re the personification of the sun that he needs shining upon him, getting rid of all the dark clouds threatening to surround him. then those days where you’re both laying on the beach, soaking up the rays and he just rests his head on your tummy because he must. or another instance, he’s crashing at your place. sleeping over and needing to cuddle you? wrapping himself on you like a koala bear — he’d probably trace light circles on your skin, secretly admiring you… feeling thankful for you. clingy & (maybe loverboy) jj once he realizes what a nice feeling it is to have someone caring, gentle & sweet, someone who understands him. someone who would never blame him because you know that under the rough exterior is his heart of gold. he means well. and you’re grateful that he lets his walls down with you. in fact, it’s an honor. now, it’s not your job your fix anyone but that’s not how it is. you’re not fixing him. he is fine in your eyes, you are just embracing his soul so it can shine out. showing him that it is okay. this happened just naturally, we all need support in life. we all deserve love. you two were puzzles pieces, fitting together. he needs someone who just listens to him, comforts him. sometimes, you do just want to hide him away from the world so he doesn’t have to go through another terrible experience; just so he can stay happy.

that smile of his is your personal sunshine.

also, he’s your safe haven too. because this won’t be one-sided.

[hotchnersangel]

HOME

Aaron Hotchner

---------

ib: Home by Good Neighbours.

cw: mentions of blood, mentions of violence, fem!reader x hotch, fluff

A/n: short and sweet as sab would say

——————

Cases usually were hard hitting, some more so than others but they all chipped away at a once pure and innocent soul of the bau and it's individual members. The team's dynamic was both independent and teamworking. You had to trust one another and you had taken that to the extreme with the unit chief, Aaron Hotchner. You and Hotch had been seeing eachother for a while, technically you were dating just without the label of 'girlfriend' and 'boyfriend'.

On this particular case, you had gone against Hotch's orders, well unintentionally. Your earpiece had been compromised during some stage of the entry of the building. You had gone through the back of the building while the others entered at various points through the house, covering all exists. Hotch ordered everyone to leave the building due to the danger of the situation inside. However, you had not heard this order and continued to search the house for the unsub.

Hotch was outside greeting each member of the team as they returned to conversate and plan their next move on how to execute a plan to take down this unsub without harming the victim inside. But, as he told the team to wait a few moments for you to return, you never did and that worried him.

"I said get out of the building as swiftly and safely as possible, now." He said through the earpiece but... nothing. "Are you alright in there?"

Nothing.

This sent the team into panic, a worried glance is thrown between Rossi, Emily and Morgan as they notice Hotch's shift. "Hey pretty lady, can you hear us?"

Nothing.

"Goddamnit, where is she." He says, his heart rate increasing. "She doesn't not follow orders."

"She's probably on her way back, Hotch." Rossi reassures him but the team knew you should be back by now.

“Should we go in?” JJ suggests, looking at Hotch who looks like he is getting ready to but Rossi stops him.

“What are you doing?” He argues Rossi’s attempt to hold him back.

“She’s more than capable of handling herself, you told us to stay back for a reason.”

Aaron knew he was right but he always worried about you, especially now. Why the hell weren’t you replying. You must be hurt.

As if the universe heard his thoughts, a gunshot echoed through the house and everyone’s hearts plummeted. They knew you could handle an unsub, that wasn’t the issue. The issue was this very unsub, not even Morgan could defeat this alone without a few injuries sustained. The unsub was a big guy, a tall build and extremely strong. You had profiled him to be into body building. You were tiny in comparison to this unsub and the idea of another mans hands on you was enough to infuriate Hotch and it increased at the thought of it being with malicious intent.

He couldn’t stop himself, he ran towards the building when he first saw you, scanning your face for injuries, he saw you guiding the victim out the door and into the arms of Emily. Morgan and Rossi follow a group of cops into the building to find the unsub. You had a few cuts on your face, a bit of swelling around your eye and you were covered in blood, but it was not all your own.

Hotch’s eyes met yours as you ran up to him, tears in your eyes as he pulls you tightly into him. Holding you like nothing else matters and in that moment, nothing else does. You were alive and in his arms, that’s all a man could ask for. All your man could ask for.

“I’ve got you.” He holds you tightly and you realise, his arms feel like they are home. His scent, the way his body wraps around you, the way he gently holds you like your delicate but enough to show the affection.

“I think my ear piece is broken- I-“ you shake your head and look up at him. “I didn’t realise no one else was in there and then i ran into him and-“

“Somebodies getting fired.” He says sternly and you panic thinking he meant you but he quickly shook his head, softening his gaze. “Not you honey.”

You see a stretcher be carried out by triple the usual people needed, a sheet placed over the top.

“You’re fucking badass pretty lady.” Morgan praises and pats your shoulder.

“Safe to say, I’m not letting you out of someone’s sight again. You or anyone else.” Hotch sighs and pulls you into a tight hug again, kissing your forehead with relief.

“Darling, won’t you take me home?” You sigh into him.

“Come on, lets get you checked out and get out of here.”

——————

[baocean]

piss off your parents

chapter thirteen - can i be a bitch for a second?

her phone

his phone

you watched jj lay it on thick with janey, seemingly not caring about the fact he called her a bitch only a week ago.

janey was smiling big, a smile she used at the bars when she was picking up guys with her fake id.

you’d never compared yourself to janey before. you had your good qualities, she had hers. except, now you were.

everything about her was perfect. her hair, smile, skin, everything.

she was wearing a pretty white dress, you were only wearing jeans and a cardigan.

jj was laughing, leaning towards her before throwing his entire body backwards like janey had just said something life changing.

you could feel your eyebrows furrow, could feel the forehead line.

jj was yours. your friend. your fake boyfriend. your jj.

janey didn’t care about jj until he entered your life and suddenly he was the best thing in the world.

you remembered the way she talked about him, how he was nothing but pogue trash, your lips curling downwards with the memory.

janey had been your best friend since you could remember. since third grade when you both wore the same hannah montana shirt. she knew all your secrets, all your dreams. you loved her, she loved you.

but right now, you hated her.

you stood up, oblivious to jj’s eyes shooting up to your movement.

once you were in your room, you sat on your bed and closed your eyes, running your hands through your hair.

the door opened, your head shooting up in panic. sarah, eyes filled with concern, was standing in the doorway.

“you okay?”

you just sighed, shrugging your shoulders.

“what’s going on?” she closed the door behind her, joining you on the bed, pulling you close.

“i’m not sure.” you spoke, words laced with something related to uncertainty.

“explain it the best you can, i’ll understand.” sarah gave you a reassuring smile, one that warmed your heart.

“i don’t li- i’m not sure i like jj and janey flirting.” you confessed.

she was silent for a moment, but her face did nothing to conceal her emotions.

something of happiness and shock all at once.

“okay. okay yea, i get that. do you…” sarah trailed off, her eyebrows raising.

you just stared at her, almost unsure of the answer yourself.

you couldn’t. you couldn’t? it’s jj, your friend. he was helping you, it was purely platonic.

except, somehow, slipping right under your nose, the feelings had creeped in. making room in your heart and stomach and head, clouding with jj maybank.

almost like sarah could read the answer in your eyes, her eyebrows somehow raised higher in disbelief.

she breathed out heavy, then hugged you in reassurance.

“can i be a bitch for a second?”

you laughed, nodding your head.

“once jj gets to know janey further than her looks, he’s going to hate her.”

you laughed again, letting your head fall on the shoulder of your friend.

“don’t tell anyone, please.” you whispered, like someone outside would hear your confession.

“i would never.” sarah grinned, you could feel it. her hand fell to your leg and tapped it, a silent indication.

masterlist | next chapter

note from the author - sorry there's some long writing, but i hope you like it :)

taglist - @dr3amgrlll / @murdockcastleslut / @jjmaybankmylovee / @smokahontas-113 / @abslvrs13 / @enchantedstarfish / @reeseswirl /@lmaowhatt / @moonywhisp3rs / @dylsdaily / @idli-dosa / @bloodofadoll / @cokewithcameron / @mariamadison6-blog / @rrosiitas / @always-reading / @sunflouer04 / @bambigirl10 / @mirellef2001 / @wasiasproject /@bee-43 / @kissesandmartinis / @gublerstylesobrien1238 / @isinpfortvdmen / @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account / @mjwashere / @sideboobrry11 / @ameliacione13 / @wrtzia / @sanriobuny / @dramagodesss / @luvrclub

[rudyking]

Piercings:

JJ spots your new ear piercings and goes wild for them.

The sun is warm on your skin, the gentle rhythm of the waves a soothing soundtrack to your afternoon. Fine, white sand cushions you as you stretch out on your beach towel, the salty air filling your lungs with a refreshing crispness. You close your eyes, letting the warmth seep into you, chasing away the last remnants of daily stress. This is bliss.

You’d decided on a whim this morning to treat yourself. Work had been relentless, and the city had started to feel oppressive. Escape, your inner voice had urged, and you, always one to listen to your intuition, had packed a bag and headed straight for the coast. It was a weekday, thankfully, so the beach wasn’t overcrowded, just a pleasant scattering of people enjoying the tranquility like you were.

A sudden gust of wind whips through, playfully tugging at your hair, lifting strands from your face. You subconsciously reach up to smooth it back, your fingers grazing the delicate studs in your upper ear, new additions from last week’s impulsive piercing adventure. They’re tiny, barely noticeable, but they feel like a secret rebellion, a whisper of something slightly edgier beneath your usual calm demeanor.

You settle back down, the wind dying down as quickly as it came, when a shadow falls over you. You open your eyes, shielding them against the sudden dimming sun, and there he is.

JJ.

Your breath hitches slightly, a familiar flutter in your chest. He’s leaning over you, a wide, sun-kissed grin stretching across his face, deepening the dimples that you find utterly irresistible. His shaggy blonde hair is tousled by the wind, and his blue eyes are sparkling with an almost mischievous glint. He’s wearing his usual faded black t-shirt, slightly too tight but somehow perfectly him, and board shorts that hang low on his hips. He looks like he’s just stepped out of the ocean, droplets of water still clinging to his eyelashes. Simply put, he looks breathtaking.

“Well, well, well,” he drawls, his voice a low, rumbling melody that always manages to send shivers down your spine. He’s not close enough to touch yet, but his presence already feels electric, a warm current drawing you in. His gaze isn't on your face, though. It’s fixed somewhere higher, towards your ear, and you feel a faint flush rising in your cheeks.

“What?” you ask, trying to sound nonchalant, though your heart is doing anything but.

He doesn't answer immediately. He just keeps staring, his grin widening, if that’s even possible. His blue eyes seem to have darkened, intensified, as if he's focused on something incredibly intriguing. The silence stretches for a beat, two, three, and then he lets out a low whistle, a sound that’s part admiration, part pure, unadulterated excitement.

“Piercings,” he breathes, finally looking at you, but his eyes keep flicking back to your ears. “You got piercings. Plural.”

You nod, a small smile playing on your lips. “Yeah, last week. Just a little something.”

“‘A little something’?” he repeats, raising an eyebrow, humor dancing in his eyes. He drops down onto the sand next to you, close enough now that you can feel the heat radiating off his skin. He props himself up on an elbow, turning to face you fully. “Yn,” he says your name like it’s a secret he’s been waiting to share, his voice laced with a playful conspiratorial tone, “you are full of surprises, aren’t you?”

His gaze is still fixed on your ears, but there’s something else there now, something beyond just noticing the piercings. It’s… appreciation. Admiration. And something that feels distinctly like… recognition.

“They’re just piercings, JJ,” you say, though a thrill is already coursing through you at his reaction. You've always been a bit reserved, a bit… predictable, perhaps. JJ, on the other hand, is a whirlwind of impulsive energy, a walking embodiment of carefree rebellion. And for him to notice, to react this way to something you considered a small, personal whim… it’s unexpectedly exhilarating.

“Just piercings?” He chuckles, a low, husky sound that vibrates right through you. He reaches out, his fingers brushing lightly against your jawline, sending a jolt of electricity through your skin. His touch is feather-light, tentative, but it still manages to ignite a fire within you. “Yn, darling, there’s no such thing as ‘just piercings’ when it comes to you.”

His eyes meet yours, holding your gaze captive. The playful teasing is still there, but there’s a depth in his blue eyes now, a smoky intensity that makes your breath catch in your throat. “I knew it,” he murmurs, more to himself than to you, but you hear it loud and clear. “I knew there was a little bit of wild in you.”

Your heart thumps harder against your ribs. Wild? You? You’ve always considered yourself the epitome of ‘nice girl.’ Kind, sweet, caring, responsible. Wild was never a word you’d associate with yourself. But looking into JJ’s eyes, seeing the way they are alight with something that borders on… desire? You start to wonder if maybe, just maybe, there was a wildness buried deep inside you, waiting for the right spark to ignite it.

“And you, Mr. Rebellious incarnate, are impressed by a couple of ear piercings?” you tease, trying to keep your voice light, masking the sudden rush of nerves and excitement that’s bubbling within you.

He grins again, wider this time, if possible even more dazzling. “Impressed is an understatement, sweetheart.” He leans in closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper, his breath warm against your ear. “I’m… intrigued. Completely, utterly intrigued.”

He pulls back slightly, but his gaze remains locked on yours. “These little studs,” he says, his eyes flicking back to your piercings again, “they’re like… a secret code. A signal.”

“A signal?” you ask, genuinely curious now.

“Yeah,” he nods, his voice low and conspiratorial. “A signal that you’re not as… innocent and sweet as you pretend to be.” He winks, and your stomach flips. “That you’ve got a little bit of bad girl hidden beneath that kind, gentle exterior.”

Bad girl. The words hang in the air between you, charged with an unexpected current of attraction. It’s ridiculous, of course. Piercings don’t make you a bad girl. But the way JJ is looking at you, the way he’s saying it… it’s making you feel things you haven’t felt in a long time. A thrill of excitement, a sense of daring, a spark of… rebellion.

“And you,” you retort, matching his playful tone, “are assuming a lot about me based on a few holes in my ear.”

“Maybe,” he concedes, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Or maybe, just maybe, I’m just good at reading people. Especially you.” He leans in closer again, his voice dropping even lower, a husky murmur against your skin. “And maybe, just maybe, I’m really, really hoping I’m right.”

His gaze is intense, searching, holding yours captive. The playful banter has faded, replaced by something deeper, something more real. You can see the honesty in his blue eyes, the genuine curiosity, the undeniable… attraction.

And in that moment, something shifts within you. The carefully constructed walls you’ve built around yourself feel a little less solid, a little less impenetrable. There’s a pull towards JJ, a magnetic force that’s both terrifying and exhilarating.

“And what if you are?” you whisper, the question barely audible, lost in the sound of the waves.

He grins, slow and knowing, a flash of pure, unadulterated bad-boy charm. “Then, Yn,” he says, his voice low and husky, “we’re going to have a lot of fun.”

He reaches out again, this time his fingers tracing the delicate curve of your ear, brushing against the cool metal of the studs. The touch sends shivers down your spine, awakening a dormant part of you that you didn’t even know existed. His touch is possessive, yet gentle, a perfect blend of his complex personality.

“Show me, Yn,” he murmurs, his eyes locking with yours, a challenge and an invitation all in one. “Show me that bad girl hiding inside.”

And in that moment, looking into his passionate blue eyes, feeling the heat of his gaze, the electricity of his touch, you know you want to. You want to shed the layers of predictability, to embrace the unexpected, to explore the wildness that JJ so intuitively senses within you.

“Maybe I will,” you whisper back, a hint of a smile playing on your lips, a spark of mischief igniting in your eyes. And as JJ’s gaze deepens, as his hand moves to cup your cheek, drawing you closer, you know this is just the beginning.

[yourlocalravendork]

✭Garcia and Morgan's matchmaking service✭

Spencer x Fem!reader

AN: This is my entry for @imagining-in-the-margins undercover challenge. It is also another story in the accidental date series (this is the only one with a Fem! Reader, the rest are gn) however can be read as a one shot and is loosely inspired by the episode Snake Eyes because gambler Reid, need I say more? I definitely got a bit carried away writing so it's a long one.

Part 1 2 3

CW: mentions of gambling, heavy themes of religion, cannon typical violence, autistic coded Spencer (because I headcanon him as on the spectrum)

Promt: “I’m just acting.” / “Oh? So you can make your heart race on command?”

It started as an isolated incident, as all killings did. A call girl and a gambler dead in a hotel over in Palm Springs, California. The girl was laid out on the bed, blankets as makeshift wings and arms crossed over her front. The gambler? A bloody pile of limbs with the words 'Temptation' scored into his arm. Then again, only in a different hotel. And again. And by the fourth victim, the BAU was called in.

"Here's the rundown my crime fighting cuties," Penelope said, bringing up the photos of the latest victims, "Henry Heart and Vanessa Anderson were found dead in Henry's hotel room in Palm Springs." With a press of a button, the screen changed. Gone were the victim's smiling faces, replaced with the gory scene of the crime. This was the usual for you. Gory scenes and the darkest corners of the human psyche. "And the cherry on this disgusting cake is the fact that this has happened to six other people, all in the same set up. A call girl and a gambler. The girls all laid to rest, the men with 'Temptation' carved in their arm. All kinds of yuck," Penelope said with a small shiver. "The women being laid to rest could be a sign of remorse," Derek offered. Spencer went to open his mouth to talk but you were one step ahead of him. "The blankets almost look like angel wings, that could be symbolic of the unsub thinking they were pure, hence the men being labeled as temptations." Spencer couldn't help but smile like a lovesick fool as you spoke. Of course, he always appreciated your inputs, but after the past few months, he found himself appreciating them more, watching the way your lips moved to form words. "But they weren't exactly pure," Emily countered, "They were call girls. I don't know about you, but that profession isn't exactly the most pure out there." "We could be looking at a woman unsub. Seeing the women as victims of circumstance and blaming the men for them being in that position," JJ shrugged. "Whatever it is, we need to get to California. Wheels up in 30," Hotch said, dismissing the room.

Spencer was hobbling back to his desk, still on crutches from his gunshot injury. His physio therapist said he was getting on well. So well that he was allowed back on the jet. Sure, he wasn't involved in any of the take downs, but at least he could work in the local PD. "Hey, Spence," you smiled, catching up to him, "You need a hand with your to go bag?" What the two of you had, Spencer wasn't entirely sure what it was. You'd been on two dates, well one official and one accidental, yet neither of you had really talked about the feelings that were there for each other. "Uh, yeah, that would help… That would help a lot," Spencer said, trying not to stutter and stumble over his words. Another soft smile directed to Spencer from you. One more and Spencer was sure he'd go into cardiac arrest. "It's just under my desk," Spencer pointed with his crutch. As you bent down to grab it, Spencer awkwardly averted his gaze. He didn't say it so he could see that. Truthfully, if he was thinking it through, he would've insisted that he could've done it. But it was that damn smile of yours. You grabbed it and sprung back up with a smile. "Ready to go?" you asked, completely oblivious to the effect you had on him. "Y… Yeah," he nodded, his Adam's apple bobbing.

"Casinos, huh, pretty boy will be right at home then," Derek teased once they were in the air. This was inevitable. It seemed every case that involved gambling, casinos or Vegas, Spencer would be subjected to the teasings of his coworkers. He'd grow accustomed to it now. "Very funny, Morgan," Spencer rolled his eyes. Before Derek had a chance to reply, Hotch's usual authoritve tone cut across the jet cabin. "Reid might prove to be a valuable asset in this case." "Right my fine feathered friends," Garcia's voice filled the speakers, "I have sent everything I have found on your victims to your tablets. We have our Henry and Vanessa. Henry was divorced and decided to spend his prenup on a little gambling trip and Vanessa had been working as a call girl for three years and lived alone. Then we had Oscar and Ella. Oscar was on his bachelor trip and was supposed to get married last week and Ella, similar story to Vanessa, living alone and working as a call girl for three years. In fact, it's the same story for all the call girls. Then the other two victims were James and Michael. James was married and his wife didn't even know that he was in Palm Springs and Michael was halfway through a rather messy divorce." The team mulled over the information. There was a connection between all the male victims, marriage. That was definitely something to take into consideration. "It's not just me who sees the whole marriage connection?" Emily said, looking up from her tablet. There was a mumble of agreement from the rest of the team. "That does seem to be the only real connection these victims have. I think it would be wise to follow that lead. Derek and Emily will go and speak to Henry's ex wife, JJ, Rossi and I will go to the latest crime scene, and you two can start working on the geographic profile." Hotch dished out roles and you couldn't help but smile at Spencer. Just the two of you in the local PD, pouring over maps. You'd be lying if you said you weren't happy with that.

After initial introductions, you and Spencer were getting settled, finding maps and colour coding certain areas. "The hotels are all in a comfortable distance," you observed, noting the proximity of the crime scenes. "However the unsub definitely has a vehicle. That's just too far to walk and still have the energy to kill someone," Spencer pointed out. You hummed in agreement. "It's rather funny that I'm working the geographic profile with you, considering my dislike for geography," You said with a soft laugh, placing a pushpin in the map, marking a potential next dumpsite, "I've always been more partial to history." With that, Spencer perked up. History? He loved history. "What's your favourite era?" he asked before being interrupted by a local police officer. There went a potential bonding experience.

The case was dragging on. It was late, far too late and the team was surviving on shitty coffee and fast food. Henry's ex wife wasn't much help. She didn't want anything to do with him so that was a dead end. It wasn't like they could follow up with Vanessa either. Hence why the team was sat, half asleep at the table, wishing for a lead. "Get some sleep everyone," Hotch said, a tired tone in his voice, "You two can go to the casino tomorrow, see if anyone saw them leaving." Hotch pointed to Spencer and you. That would be nice.

The next morning, the two of you were heading down to the SUV, a spring in your step. There was no reason for it, but something just felt right today. The two of you climbed in and you made sure that Spencer was alright with his knee brace. "You're not going to get us kicked out, are you?" you teased, poking fun at the fact he was banned from all of the casinos in Las Vegas. "You're just as bad as Morgan, you know," Spencer quipped back with a soft laugh. "Come on, Spence, you can't expect us to work a case in a casino and us not poke fun at the fact you're a Vegas boy." That earned a weak eyeroll from him. You could see he didn't really mind.

As you were driving, you could see Spencer subtly grabbing at the handle above the door. You weren't that bad at driving but Spencer seemed to think otherwise. Mentally, he was doing all the stopping distance calculations, seeing if you guys would be safe. You had to admit, it was endearing. Reaching over, you patted his thigh, "Relax, genius, I'm not going to get us killed." Your laugh echoed through the car but all Spencer could focus on was the section of this thigh that felt like it was on fire. He hadn't expected that. Your hand, his thigh. He was a grown man for Christ's sake, he shouldn't be getting this flustered.

Spencer hobbled in after you, the familiar sounds of slot machines and the eyesore of a carpet overstimulated the young genius, yet he prevailed. "Lookie, lookie, you two feeling lucky? Wanna expand your fortune?" a voice asked, emerging from the rows of flashing machines. "We're FBI," You said, pulling out your badges, "We wanted to ask if we could have a look at your security footage from a few nights ago." "Well, she's got you on a tight leash, has to she?" the man said, only paying attention to Spencer, "Or are you one of those lads that like being bossed around?" You could feel your blood boiling at the disrespect. You'd never liked casinos, this owner was only giving you a further reason to hate them. Trying to get a word in, the owner held a hand to your lips, "Let the wounded puppy talk," he said, a sarcastically sweet smile on his lips. The audacity of this man. It was clear he wasn't going to speak with you. "I'm Dr Spencer Reid, like my partner said, we're with the FBI. There was a couple that was killed in the hotel across the road and we just wanted to look through your security footage to see if we could gather any information," Spencer explained, trying not to stutter. It was clear he was far from impressed with this man's attitude. "Yeah, I heard about that. Real shame really. She was pretty too, brought in quite a few regulars even," the owner said with a shake of his head, "This way then, agents."

There was something off with the casino owner. He was just slimy. Openly sexist, dodgy dealing and so condescending. Spencer had an almost instantaneous disliking towards him. The office where they kept their security footage was small and dingy. It was awful. Spencer could barely fit with his crutches. But you two squeezed in together. Spencer tried to ignore how close you were to him, how your arm was brushing against his, how the desk chairs were so close together you might as well sat on his lap. God he felt like a schoolboy with a crush all over again. After sifting through hours of footage, you couldn't exactly see anything. It was a busy night and most people were focusing solely on their winnings. You let out a small groan after the footage ended. Yet another dead end.

When you explained it to Hotch, he was just as frustrated as the two of you. This killer was good, that much was clear. It was yet another night of shitty coffee and fast food when Emily suggested an idea. "How about we go undercover at some nearby casinos. I mean, Reid has figured out an area of comfort, him and I could go to one and Derek could go with you to another," Emily suggested. Hotch seemed to be debating on that idea. Undercover. It wasn't something they usually did, but if it would help draw out the unsub then they had to play their cards right. "How about I go with Emily?" Derek suggested, his usual tomcat smirk appearing. Spencer knew what he was doing. Setting him up to go off with you. Spencer wasn't sure if he wanted to throttle or thank Derek. Having you dress as a call girl, draping over him like a blanket most of the night. It was a dream come true. If it wasn't for work. Instead it would just be a nightmare. "I can't go into the field, I'm on crutches," Spencer protested. "You can have a cane. Looking like one of those really high class gamblers," JJ suggested. That earned a murmur of agreement from the team. You were one of the few that were quite. You too weren't sure if you wanted to throttle or thank Derek, although you were leaning more on the throttle side. "Then it's settled then," Hotch nodded, "Morgan and Prentiss, you take this casino, you two take the other," he added, pointing to the map. You and Spencer had the more high end casino, meaning the both of you would be dressed to the nines.

"Do I have to wear this?" you complained from the bathroom stall, pulling up the dress Garcia had sent over to you. Of course, the local PD didn't exactly have a proper changing room, therefore you and Emily were getting ready in the bathroom of the precinct. Not exactly glamorous, but you had to work with what you had. "Oh come on, it can't be that bad," JJ chuckled with a soft shake of her head. Opening the bathroom door, you stood there, a slightly disgruntled look on your face. The dress you were wearing was stunning. Tight with a slit at the leg and it was strapless. Something that would definitely turn heads. The attention you would draw to yourself was something you were already dreading. "I feel stupid," you huffed, heels clicking on the tiled floor. Emily came out of her stall, not complaining at all. She seemed to be getting into this role effortlessly. "You look stunning," Emily pointed out, heading over to the mirror to do her makeup.

Spencer felt so out of place changing into his suit. It was too tailored for his liking. He'd much prefer the comfort of his cardigans. "Are suits always this itchy?" Spencer complained to Derek. That earned him a laugh, which, in turn, earnt an eyeroll from Spencer. "I'm being serious. It's like a sensory overload in this thing." "Kid, relax," Derek said with a soft chuckle. He walked over and fixed the lapels on Spencer's suit. At the proximity, Derek could see the worry and stress in Spencer's eyes. Telling him to relax just wasn't going to work. "How can I relax? The label of my shirt is itching the back of my neck and I'm going undercover. I shouldn't even be in the field," Spencer began to ramble. Derek put his hands on Spencer's shoulders to stop him from getting to much into his own head. "Hey, pretty boy, this isn't all about the suit, is it?" Derek asked, a knowing glint in his eye. "I mean, partly it is because have you felt how uncomfortable this suit jacket is? It's like I can feel every fiber personally annoying every skin cell," Spencer continued to press. "It's because you're paired up with-" Before Derek could finish the sentence, Spencer cut him off. "Where would you… No… You're making things up," Spencer stuttered, his voice raising a few octaves. That only confirmed Derek's theory. "Why do you think I offered you and them up?" Derek chuckled. So Spencer was right. This was Derek's plan all along. "I'm going to kill you," Spencer mumbled. "Oh you can, pretty boy," Derek smirked, "After we catch this unsub."

Spencer was still fiddling with his suit, waiting for you to come out of the bathroom. His crutch was  replaced by a rather expensive looking cane and his suit looked far too expensive than normal. He was not ready for how stunning you looked. It was like his breath was taken from his lungs. "I don't like it," you mumbled and your voice snapped Spencer out of his trance. "What?" Spencer asked, trying to hide the disbelief in his voice. Spencer definitely liked it. It was far from your usual style, but you still looked beautiful. "It's too…" You pause for a second, trying to find the right word, "Flashy." You kept pulling at the dress, trying to make it more modest. That was mission impossible. "Damn, mama," Derek smirked, clearly amused at how out of your element you were. "Can it, Morgan," you retorted, "Lets just get this over and done with."

The casino was filled with bright lights and loud noises. Pair that with the suit he was wearing, Spencer felt like he was in his own personal hell. Sure, he'd grown up in Vegas, sure, he'd been banned from every casino there, but this? This was horrendous. He could physically feel the pressure mounting on him. He took a deep breath, preparing himself to stay on alert.

He took a seat at one of the poker tables. You were on the other side of the casino, draping over some random man. Spencer had to quell the jealousy in his stomach when he saw you acting so seductive so effortlessly, but with someone else. You were just doing your job. Spencer, predictably, was winning hand after hand. Straights, flushes, all because of the card counting. Of course, he had to throw a few games. Make it seem more believable. But other than that, it was fun for him. Just doing math and winning. He made sure to make a few jokes about the divorce mentioned in his cover story, loud enough for the potential unsub to hear.

"Hey honey," you mumbled loud enough for the rest of the table to hear, "You're on quite the hot streak." You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, effortlessly leaning into him. You looked every bit the call girl. Spencer could feel his heart beat spike. This wasn't the same as your shy touches. No, this was more intense. "You alright?" you whispered into Spencer's ear. "Yeah, I'm just acting," Spencer whispered back. It was good. It was really selling the gambling and call girl facade. "Oh, so you can make your heart race on command?" you teased with a natural playful smirk. This was far from the usual anxious version of you. This was a side Spencer had never seen before.

After a few hours, you'd realised you were being watched. The unsub wasn't moving though. If you were to draw him out, the two of you had to move. "Spence, win this round then we'll make it look like we're going to the hotel across the street. We're being watched," You whispered, watching his cards in his hand. You weren't superstitious, but you couldn't help but feel sick at the sight of the ace of spades. The dead man's card. Your arm remained draped around Spencer as he excused himself from the table. As you two made your way out to the front of the casino, the unsub began to follow the two of you.

In the hotel room, that's where you'd decided to catch the unsub. So the two of you were pacing, waiting for the unsub. A knock on the door stopped you in your tracks. "Room service," a man's voice called out. Spencer and you shared a look. You walked over to Spencer, ruffling his hair and clothes, before doing the same to yourself and smearing your lipstick so it looked like the unsub had caught you two in a heated moment. Then, taking a deep breath, you opened the door. There stood a man. He had a crazed look in his eyes and within an instant you clocked him as the man watching the two of you in the casino. "You poor angel," he started, no introductions, just straight up caressing your face, "Look what these men do to you. They taint you. You are pure, you know you are. It is the filth that is the problem. Don't you worry, oh don't you worry you sweet angel, God will welcome you back with open arms." You were immediately uncomfortable with how much he was touching you. Brushing hair out of your face, treating you like a doll. Spencer felt a pang of jealousy but was forced to ignore it. The two of you were in potential danger. "Hotch, we need back up," Spencer mumbled into his earpiece, quiet enough so the unsub didn't hear him. "As for him," the unsub pointed a finger over at Spencer, "He was sinned. He will pay. The good Lord will turn him away from the pearly gates and he will suffer for the sins he has committed. He is temptation, leading good women like you away from the path of God. First getting a divorce, separating a holy union as if it was nothing, and now this. Tempting you like the snake tempted Eve." He grabbed you and started leading you over to the bed. After he'd sat you down there, he pulled out a carrier bag, no doubt planning on suffocating you, giving you the less gruesome death. Spencer wasted no time drawing his gun. "Put the bag down and step away." There was a sense of authority in his voice which was rare. You were just counting down the minutes until backup showed up. "What? Are you going to add murder to your list of sins too?" the unsub taunted. At that brief distraction, you swung one of your legs to sweep the unsub's and watched him crumble to the floor. You rested a heeled foot on him, stiletto pressing down just enough to feel discomfort. The unsub reached into his pocket and pulled out a knife then proceeded to attempt to slash at your leg. "You harlot! You're just as bad as he is," the unsub taunted. "FBI, drop the weapon." The familiar sound of Hotch's voice was a relief. The unsub froze, almost as if unsure what to do. With this newfound opening, you kicked the knife out of his hands and away from him. Hotch walked over and pulled the unsub off the ground, putting cuffs on him as the unsub cried out threats and warnings. "The good Lord will make you pay. You will all pay for your sins when you are burning in hell."

On the plane ride home, you were quiet. Everyone else was asleep, aside from Hotch. Naturally he was doing paperwork. You stared out of the jet window, a contemplative look on your face. You were so absorbed in your own little world that you didn't even notice that Spencer had taken a seat opposite you. "You looked nice this mission," Spencer mumbled, as if unsure to actually say it. There it was, the endearing awkwardness you'd fallen for. "Thank you. Although I'm sure it was all a set up on Penelope and Derek's side," You said with a soft laugh. "How so?" Spencer asked, cocking his head. "Well, Derek practically insisted that I was to be partnered with you and Penelope sent in a dress she said I would look stunning in, despite there being plenty of shops nearby to buy my own dress. It's like they were trying to set us up." It was clear now to Spencer that was the plan. God, he was going to kill Derek. However, he had to respect how smart the plan was. So maybe he'd have to begrudgingly thank him. You let out a small yawn and Spencer was snapped out of his haze. "You tired?" Spencer asked, his voice taking on a softer tone. "A little," You nodded. With that, Spencer got up and walked over to sit next to you. He wasn't sure where this bout of confidence came from but he was about to cash in on it. "Then sleep," Spencer offered. It didn't take you too long to rest your head on his shoulder and drop off to sleep. As Spencer looked down at you, he smiled softly. Inside, he was freaking out. You were asleep on his shoulder. It felt like the best day ever. From across the jet cabin, Derek just watched with a proud smile on his face, already planning on debriefing Penelope on how well their plan went.

[rafecameronsversion]

Ocean Eyes

pairing : jj maybank x reader

summary : cute cute date with jj, purely fluff

note! after that last ep, i just needed to feel something again 🥹 i am in denial. also, back to lowercase writing cause i'm currently too lazy.

we are in y/n's pov (n/n) means nickname

the ocean breeze was gentle, carrying a faint scent of salt and the warmth caresses my face. i stood by the dock at poguelandia, my head turning when i heard jj call for me. i smiled as he got nearer.

he wraps his arms around my waist from my back, i lean into him and look up smiling. "hi j" i say, softly looking into his beautiful ocean eyes.

he grins back, the look on his face ever so familiar, he's up to something. "hi princess, got something for you." he says, turning me around to face him. i look up, intrigued.

"hm, what might that be?" i ask, my hands on his arms as i look at him curiously. he smiles and takes my hands, guiding me to his motorbike. "just hold tight, i have the perfect spot" jj said, emphasis on perfect, excitement evident in his voice.

i laughed, latching onto his waist as the engine of his bike roared. the air felt nice on my skin as jj lead me to this mysterious spot. only a few minutes later, he stops the bike and leads me uphill by the ocean. he keeps turning to look at my face, eager.

"you look so excited, baby. what do you have planned huh?" i say, chuckling as i still follow his lead. we finally reach the top and he opens his arms wide as if to reaveal something.

there was a blanket and a picnic basket on top of it, the sun was close to setting and the air was comforting. the view was mesmerizing as it perfectly overlooked the ocean and the sky. i gasped, turning to him

"you did this for me, j?" i ask exasperated. he nods smiling and pulling me into a hug. "of course, princess. i'd do anything for you."

i smile and kiss his cheek, as he grabs my arm and guides me to the blanket, sitting down. we sat cuddled into each other, my head lying agains his chest as he sat behind me with his arms around me.

"this is nice jj" i whisper, leaning against his forearm. he grins from behind me, kissing my shoulder.

"just you and me, doll. exactly how i like it." he says, hugging me closer. i smile into his arms, feeling safe and content. there was nothing else better than this for me.

jj tilted his head to look at me, his blue eyes looking into mine softly and affectionately which made my heart flutter. he lifted his hand to carres my cheek, i instinctively lean into his touch.

i smile softly at him, adoring the man before me. he speaks, "you're pretty amazing, you know that, n/n?" at that i blush.

"says you, this place is beautiful j" i say, lovingly looking into his eyes.

he laughed, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “what can i say? i got lucky with you.”

i look up at him, the warmth and sincerity in his ocean blue eyes. the sun was setting, the waves sounded calming. without another word, i leaned in, our lips meeting in a sweet lingering kiss. it was soft and gentle, love just pouring into every bit of the kiss.

when i finally pulled back, jj rested his head on my shoulder, a gentle smile on his lips as he looked at the sunset before us. "i already have everything i have ever wanted, y/n. you're everything"

i smiled, my hands intertwined with his. "i love you jj."

he kisses the side of my head affectionately, whispering in my ear. "i love you too, princess."

[rafesbabygirlx]

Can you do Rafe’s ex gf seeks comfort in JJ? Just pure fluff and maybe some angst when Rafe sees them out on day. TY

I love this idea 🙂‍↕️

𝚓𝚓𝚖𝚊𝚢𝚋𝚊𝚗𝚔 𝚡 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚡 𝚎𝚡𝚋𝚏!𝚛𝚊𝚏𝚎

𝚌𝚞𝚝𝚎 𝚏𝚕𝚞𝚏𝚏 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚓𝚓 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚊 𝚋𝚒𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝

𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚍𝚛𝚞𝚐𝚜, 𝚏𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚞𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚕 𝚊𝚋𝚞𝚜𝚎 (𝚙𝚎𝚛 𝚛𝚊𝚏𝚎)

𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

The first two weeks were hell. You barely left your bed, barely ate, barely moved. The weight of Rafe’s absence pressed down on you like a boulder, suffocating and unrelenting. Even after everything—the drugs, the anger, the way he pushed you aside for his father’s approval—you still felt like you were drowning in the loss. You weren’t mourning him. You were mourning the version of him you convinced yourself was real.

Sarah was the only one who refused to let you waste away.

“Enough of this, okay? I’m not gonna sit here and watch you rot,” she said on the third week, yanking the blankets off your curled-up body.

“Sarah, I don’t—”

“Nope. Shower. Now. And then we’re going out.”

You wanted to argue, but the exhaustion of doing nothing had drained you more than anything else. So you let her drag you out, let her push you into a world that kept spinning despite your heartbreak.

By the fourth week, she started bringing you to the Chateau.

That’s where you saw him. Another set of piercing blue eyes, but these weren’t cold or calculating. They weren’t waiting for you to slip up. They were wild and full of mischief, warmth flickering behind them like the embers of a fire. JJ Maybank.

The Pogues welcomed you in without hesitation. They had seen you before—seen you standing behind Rafe, eyes wet with tears, breath hitching as you begged him to stop. You weren’t one of them then, but you weren’t one of him either. You worried about them when you should’ve worried about Rafe. They noticed.

JJ noticed.

At first, it was casual. Every time Sarah brought you over, at some point, you and JJ would slip away from the group. It was easy with him, natural. You talked about everything. About your past, your dreams, your fears. About how love—real love—was supposed to feel like safety, not suffocation. And he listened. Really listened.

By the fifth day, you knew more about each other than most people did in years. You learned you were the same—both shattered, pieced together with flimsy tape, only to be broken all over again.

On the sixth day, you kissed him. It was instinctual, something that bubbled up from deep inside you. But the second your lips met his, you pulled back. You were afraid he’d think you were using him. But you weren’t, it just felt right.

“JJ, I—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

His hand cupped the back of your neck, pulling you in before you could finish. His lips crashed into yours, and for the first time in forever, you felt light.

That night, you stayed curled up with him on John B’s pull-out couch, safe in the space between his arms.

Week five. JJ invited you to a kegger.

You hesitated at first, the nagging fear of running into Rafe gnawing at the back of your mind. But it was a Pogue party, deep in the Cut. He wouldn’t be there. And is he was there’d be so many other people, there’d be no way he’d find you.

You stayed by JJ’s side the entire night, the two of you tangled together in laughter, cheap beer, and a shared joint. The world was hazy, soft at the edges. For the first time in forever, you weren’t looking over your shoulder. The beer hit you a little hard when you realized you needed to use the restroom. You let JJ know and gave his a quick kiss. You felt good the whole night being there with him.

That is, until you started to head to the restroom.

A large hand gripped your bicep, fingers digging in painfully. Your heart stopped before you even turned.

You knew who it was.

When your eyes met Rafe’s, his pupils were blown, his breathing heavy. You barely had time to react before he started dragging you through the crowd.

“What the fuck is your problem?” you snapped, trying to yank your arm away.

He spun you, slamming your back against a rock.

“My problem,” he seethed, “is that my girlfriend thinks she can flaunt around with that nasty Maybank like I wouldn’t notice. Kissing him fun? You think he could make you feel the way I could?”

“EX-girlfriend,” you corrected, shoving at his chest. “Now you care? Now you’re so concerned on what feels good for me? What—Daddy not paying enough attention to you right now?”

His jaw clenched. His hand slammed into the rock beside your head, making you flinch. He had never put his hands on you before, but you’d seen what he was capable of.

A commotion behind him.

“Stay away from her, Rafe,” JJ’s voice cut through the noise.

Rafe smirked, turning to face him. “Or what?” He got up in JJ’s face, towering over him.

“JJ, please. Let’s just go,” you begged, but he didn’t move.

Rafe chuckled darkly before shoving JJ, hard enough to send him crashing into you. You hit the ground, the impact jolting through you.

JJ’s lips curled into a grin, blood coating his bottom lip. “You’re a real piece of shit, you know that? Hurting her wasn’t enough when you were together, huh? You gotta make sure she’s miserable without you too?”

Rafe’s face twisted, his eyes darkening with rage. And then he swung.

The fight was brutal. JJ took a few hits, but he wasn’t afraid to give them back. You screamed, begged them to stop, but neither of them listened.

It wasn’t until Pope and John B finally wrenched them apart that it ended.

JJ stumbled toward you, blood smeared across his face. You were still sitting in the sand, hands shaking as you reached up to touch him.

“You’re hurt,” you whispered, wiping the blood from his cheek.

He grinned, wincing slightly. “Worth it.”

Without thinking, you kissed him.

Behind you, Rafe scoffed. “Congrats, Maybank. Enjoy my sloppy seconds. But don’t worry—I’m not done getting back what’s mine.”

You didn’t care.

Because all you could see was JJ.

tags + some moots 💗

@rafestoothbrush @weluvwbb @itsforeverandalwayz @butterfly-ibuki @megiiite @maybankslover @siredbtches @bigenergy777 @percysley @aupernatural-teenwolflover @slut4you @rafegf-real @skywalker0809 @snowtargaryen @kieeslove @leather-n-velvet @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @rafesgreasycurtainbangs @diasnohibng @slut-4-gojo @akobx @jjmaybankmylovee @slurpdew @rafesheaven @cameronsprincess @littlelamy @inthelibrarybtw @frankoceanluvr11 @writingroom21 @v3n1ce-bxtch

[goldenroutledge]

when you reach me

pairing: jj maybank x fem!reader

word count: 1.1k

warning(s): main character death, grief, spiritual connection. this one’s pure angst.

summary: in which you mourn the love of your life.

jj maybank masterlist

Tears cloud your vision, preventing you from reading the words on the page. This is it, you think. The moment of closure you still haven’t allowed yourself to have, nothing but guilt clouding your mind since you left him. Not since you, supposedly the love of his life and the keeper of his secrets, abandoned him in Morocco. His worst fear in life come true in his death.

No matter what you tell yourself, it will never be enough. There’s not a single magic spell or genie in a bottle that could bring him back. There’s nothing– that’s good for you anyway– that will ease the pain of losing him. You remember the sadness and the frustration you felt watching him on the boat, drinking the days away because of a purpose he lost sight of. Now, that memory resonates with you more than ever. You know the feeling, it’s resignation.

The only thing that motivated you to pick up a pen and write was the fact that you owed it to him to send your feelings out there, somewhere into the universe. The tranquility of the water at night welcomed you from where you sat on the dock. You figured this would be one of the hardest places to be, overwhelming you with the reminder of what’s happened. You don’t need to be reminded, you can feel it. In every breath there’s an ache in your heart and a bruise to your bones. You can feel him here, ready and waiting to receive you. It’s the closest you’ll ever get to leaving flowers at a graveyard after all.

Rolling your letter, watching as the ink disappears with each movement of the paper is enough to make your throat swell and tears brim in your eyes. Sliding the message into the bottle is excruciating. Taking your deepest thoughts of him and sending them away. As if someone is stripping a child of their favorite toy, infringing on the emotional attachment they have to it. That’s exactly what this feels like, words in the shape of your heartstrings that you badly want to let go of, yet can’t help but stay close to. Until you remember, these words don’t belong to you. They belong to him, wherever he is. Gently, you press your lips to the bottle, giving a kiss goodbye to the metaphor it holds. JJ Maybank, your heart in human form once upon a time, is gone from your reach forever.

These waters are the closest thing you have now. When you look into them, only then can you remember the beautiful days you shared with him here, free of the anguish that locks your heart up in chains. The days of diving, swimming, kissing him in these waters, are long gone. A place where the world used to wait, where the moment would never end if you could have things your way. Setting the bottle free into these waters, you feel nothing but uncertainty that you’ll ever be the same. Watching the bottle float away and out of sight, you can’t help but wonder if he’s somewhere out there feeling the same thing.

-

‘I know I’ve waited a while to do this, JJ. I’m sorry. I’ve been in shock, in pain, angry enough to set the world on fire, numb enough to not feel the flames as they burn. You need to know that I’m sorry. I’m not who I used to be, I’m not the person you said you love with your last breath. I can’t be that person anymore after your killer released all of his hell and gave it to me. I can’t look in the mirror without seeing a shell of who I once was. I can’t take care of the others when I don’t remember how to take care of myself. I’m sorry that I have broken all of the promises between us. You wouldn’t want this for me and I don’t either. But here we are. Here I am really, it’s just me now. Sometimes I forget that, things should be different.

Someone asked me out on a date about a week ago, I felt like punching him in the face. If it weren’t for the others, I would have. If anything, they are taking care of me. I know you want me to be happy. For some people that means moving on, lighting a new torch with the one you carry for a past love. I’ve come to accept that I’m just not capable of that. What would make me happy about looking into another’s eyes and seeing yours? How could I feel safe from another’s touch if it isn’t yours? Our love made me believe that my heart could never break. I was wrong. I was so very wrong. Maybe that’s cynical of me, but I witnessed your life come to its end, I deserve to be. A part of my life ended, too.

I wish I could keep believing in everything that brought us together, but I can only remember everything that tore us apart. I hate it when people tell me that someday I’ll find love again. I do have someone I love, but not in a way that their eyes can see. They don’t understand that I don’t want to know a life without you. I’ve been told that each day gets a little better. They’re wrong. My heart breaks every day that life goes on without you. I loved you for practically your entire life, how am I supposed to be okay knowing that you loved me for only a part of mine? I don’t want to wake up one day and remember you only exist in my memory, that you’re only a shadow playing tricks on me.

I can’t make any promises to you. A part of me never wants to forgive you for leaving. The best I can do is thank you for showing me what it means to love someone, to know that I’m only one half of one soul. For giving me a reason to laugh and smile. It is because of these things, that makes you the reason why I scream and cry. There’s so much I wish you were here to do, so much I wish we could still do together. I miss you, JJ. I don’t think I’ll ever stop. I’m trying to learn about who I am without you. I don’t know if I’ll ever find out, but please just know that I’m trying. Every morning I wake to an empty bed, every time I want to shatter the mirror in front of me, I keep trying. For you, I’ll never stop. You didn’t have a choice nor a chance, and I’d be damned if I didn’t take mine. I love you.’

Y/n

💌: had this in my drafts for months now, really ever since watching the obx 4 finale :,) it was nice while it lasted right? thanks for reading!

taglist: @marjorieswrld

[mayanneaa]

between the waves - ᴊᴊ ᴍᴀʏʙᴀɴᴋ.

PAIRING : bf!jj maybank x reader

SUMMARY : you finally get to go on your surf trip with jj.

WARNING(S) : pure fluff hehe, not proofread

A/N : dividers by @roseraris

WC : 0.6k

masterlist.

You drag your surfboard through the hot sands of a Cancún beach. The sun is high in the sky and you are grateful you convinced JJ to use more sunscreen than usual.

You two have just arrived, starting your big surf trip. JJ's been planning it for ages and promised it will be great once it starts.

He didn't even leave much time to unpack at your Airbnb. Ten minutes after getting the key JJ literally begged you to go for a quick surf. And, of course, how can you refuse his puppy eyes?

"Come on, princess!" JJ yells, already dipping his feet in the water. He's practically buzzing with excitement like a little kid, and a smile creeps onto your lips. "The waves are so good here, I swear!"

You make it to his side and feel the waves brush your ankles. He's right. It looks like surfing here has to be fun. Your hands are resting on your hips when an idea comes to mind.

"Bet I'll catch better ones than you?"

You know exactly what just sparked in his mind. He grins, eyes glistening. “You? I’m sorry, baby, but you are challenging the best surfer in the Outer Banks. There’s no way you’ll beat me.”

“Sounds like someone’s scared…” You snort and run in deeper, throwing your body onto the surfboard and paddling through the water.

The smell of salt and sunscreen surrounds you, and the pull of the ocean feels like home.

Not long after, JJ follows, his giggles likely audible to everyone at the beach. The bigger wave is coming straight at you. You steal a glance at JJ as you stand up—his golden locks are already wet, droplets clinging to his tanned skin. A wide smile lights up his face, and you feel the warmth in your heart grow.

But you can't let him win.

Water roars into your ears. With your smooth cuts you know you've got the win in your pocket. Your surfboard stays steady as you shift your weight and ride the wave, JJ close behind. One second he comes close, dangerously close, his arms ready to push you. It's now or never.

You take a sharp turn, the sudden movement throwing JJ off his board into the water with a loud splash. You let out a laugh as you see him appearing over the surface, hair sticking to his face.

"That was so rigged!" he shouts, swimming over to you.

"Rigged? It's just karma for trying to push me!"

You hear him groan and before you notice, he pulls you into the water by your leg. You fall with a soft scream, quickly breaking into a burst of laughter.

You swim out, your bikini soaking. A shiver runs through you, and you notice JJ staring at you, with an expression you can’t decode.

“What?”

He’s silent for a moment, just scanning you as a whole, until he comes closer and answers, “Just… being here with you? It’s everything I dreamed of.”

The corners of his mouth go up as he leans in and softly kisses you. You wrap your arms around his neck, letting out a muffled giggle into his lips.

This is perfect. The prettiest beach you’ve ever been to, stunning waves just waiting for you to get them, and JJ. You couldn't wish for anything more.

The kiss is slow; he savors every second of it. When you pull away, his lips instinctively follow after yours. JJ's hot breath fans across your face, making your cheeks flush bright red.

"Don't think kissing me will make me forget about your loss," you say, and a chuckle escapes his lips.

"Guess I’ll have to try harder, princess?"

[bau-drabbles]

the night we met, part 3

a/n: hope you enjoy! mentions of torture and guns throughout, kinda long and unrealistic but its fanfic so 🥴

what if haley never died that day? but what if your love for hotchner had to?

part 1, 2

"have you found her yet?!" hotch barked the order out as penelope frantically searched through copious amount of cctv footage all at once. several computer screens were open for the team, trying to find a clue on the location of where you had been taken.

"not yet sir" garcia whispered, her fingers practically flying across the keyboard silently begging for any sign where you could've left. hotch tried to reign his anger back in, this wasn't anyone fault but himself. if only he had caught up to you, just 60 seconds before you wouldn't have been here. if only that stupid kiss hadn't even happened, you wouldn't be god knows where getting tortured.

he takes a breath, knowing deep down it's not the time to react emotionally but it's hard not to, it's hard to even think rationally when he knows the likelihood of you surviving wasn't all that great. his profiler brain knew the possible outcome from this wasn't exactly high and with every second his worst fear could potentially become true.

"have you found her?" haley's voice cuts in and hotch shakes his head, his fingers pinching his temple for any signs that he must've missed. it feels overwhelming around him, flashes of people and the sounds of you seeping through his mind. it's dizzying trying to piece together what's real and what's not, flashes of you and that damned kiss is all that plays on his mind. the softness of your lips, the utter desperation between you both, the sheer passion that radiated in waves, all of it. he needed it again, he craved it.

it's even worse when his wife, the mother of his child, the very woman you almost got shot for, is standing there looking at with concern but he doesn't take any notice. he never would've though haley's voice could be so shrill and irritating, he never could've imagined himself recoiling away from her. so he simply doesn't answer her, sighing as he tries to go over the footage with garcia. he should tell her about the kiss but his lips remain closed, not willing to share anything more about you to her.

"well i can help-" "haley please. go home protect jack, he needs one of us" hotch dismisses her, his heart becoming in control of the situation. he can't stand to look at her, feeling so guilty for kissing another woman but even worse because he didn't regret doing it. his only regret was not kissing you for longer. still, hotch knew he was being overly harsh but the pure fear, the worry of you being alone and he wasn't there was enough to send him tumbling into a pit of pure distress.

but he took a breath, now was not the time to become emotional. he had to get his head in the game. the risk of losing you was too much to bear but the thought of you being out there, chained to a devil was enough to keep him going.

"police have set up roadblocks blocking any main exits in the city. if they've travelled, they can't leave the country" jj and emily come in, but the information isn't enough. who knows what the man could've been doing to you by now, who knows what terrible inflictions could've been upon you.

"we've checked any significant location but they've all come negative, the detectives are checking for any last known locations and the camera footage when they leave...." morgan and spencer are next to enter, their shoulders deflating in disappointment and sadness being unable to find you.

"we'll find her aaron" rossi pats hotch's shoulders and though the sentiment is sweet, any hope is starting to crumble and diminish now. you were just here, how could they not find you yet? the bau was supposed to be one of the safest buildings, how could someone so easily take you away like that?? his resolve was breaking and if he wasn't careful, all the feelings that were locked up tightly would begin to spill before he could've comprehended it. the truth he was too scared to admit would be admitted and he didn't know how long he could hide it for

before anyone could respond, a beeping appeared. and there beheld a sight they wished they would never have had to see.

taking a good glance at you, all seven team members found their hearts shattering piece by piece in their chests. a chorus of horrified gasps and exclaims echoed throughout the room and hotch could barely even breathe, the words dying on his lips

"aaaand here we go" you hear a click, the whirr of a computer and it takes you all your strength to awaken. an overwhelming feeling of tiredness practically envelopes your body, how easily you could fall into the darkness that awaits your presence. and then the unfamiliar feeling of being tied up grabs you attention, fear courses through your veins as your eyes open and adjust to the setting. it felt like a hospital room but this was no place where people were fixed. the sickly smell of blood and bleach is strong in the air, its overpowering and nauseating

but you calm your mind, it wasn't the time to panic. you had to think, you had to fight, you had to survive

your vision was slightly blurred looking at the man who held you captive, trying to ignore the intense throbbing in your head. your hands were cuffed to some chain, holding you upright on your feet. but he loosens something and you fall to the ground with a soft thud, vision spinning from the lack of hydration and the beatings he had given you prior.

"ohmy god.... y/n??" a breathless whisper echoes throughout the room and painfully, you glance at the camera. there, all your team members stood in complete horror. you see hotch and for the first time since you had known him, he's at a loss for words. just looking at you with so much pain, so much anger, so much fear.

you could feel your cheeks burning from shame and embarrassment, at your situation or the kiss you didn't really know. you didn't even want to know.

"y/n?? are you okay??? someone tell me she's okay please-" garcia looks on tearfully while morgan comes behind her, guiding her to the computer. truthfully they didn't have an answer to her question but they needed to focus, to keep you alive. and you didn't need to be disrupted, not when your life was at stake.

"that was to prove she's very much alive so none of you have to worry" and just like that you're brought up to your feet again, groaning when the handcuffs pinch the skin tightly. there's so much pain, you can't even pinpoint where it hurts the most.

"what is she dressed in?" someone seethed and you blink in confusion, craning your neck to see your body. it was a black gown you were in, a slit riding up the thigh. it was beautiful, too pretty to be drenched in blood. a stark contrast to the situation you were in now.

"don't worry i didn't change her, i had someone else to do it for me. my prizes have to look picture perfect" he brushes a piece of your hair and you swing your head out of the way, eliciting a kick from him. you don't even cry out, gasping for air at the momentum he had lunged at you with. your hands grip around the handcuffs but it was useless, you couldn't claw your way out of metal.

"you stupid bitch!" his fingers grip your face, you could see just how much his rage consumed him. it was unnerving to say the least, the slightest thing seemed to tick him off. there was no telling what he could do to you in this state

"enough!" hotch grits out, his fingers clenching into tight fists by his side. piece by piece his facade was cracking underneath the unsub's hammer. he couldn't reign in his control this time, not with your life being threatened

"who are you?" you grit out painfully, trying to stop the wave of nausea hitting you over and over. the man doesn't answer, the head of his gun trailing from your chin to the centre of your neck. you hear the click of the revolver and your breath is hitched, wondering if he was really going to kill you this way. wondering if you'd be shot in front of your team that remained helpless on the other side

"i've always wondered what the price was for killing an fbi agent was-" you see the man's cruel smile hit you can't answer, the fear felt overpowering.

"don't you dare" hotch snarls, surprising everyone with the intensity of his rage. and to your surprise, it had worked. the man eyed hotch and with a soft grin, dropped his gun and you felt your lungs take their first breath. tears pricked your eyes, the tiredness was practically swimming in your body but you couldn't crumble. not in front of the unsub, not in front of your team. and especially not in front of hotch.

"i think we should play a game, no?" the man smiles sadistically, pointing to you again. any strength you once held was shattering minutes by minute. your mind and body fighting over one another, wanting to give in and give up but forcing yourself to stay awake no matter what

"leave her alone! i can have you arrested on multiple accounts of-" hotch's face was unreadable, his hands etched tightly around the monitor but the unsub gestures to his mouth, to silence them all.

"if you want her alive, you'll do what i say. good luck trying to pinpoint our location, right now the cell service is bouncing around several cell towers all across the globe" frustrated, hotch looks towards garcia who was working feverishly and she sadly nods, it wasn't a clear location no matter how times she tried to hack into the system. she was hit waves and waves after a firewall which could take hours, time you didn't have to spare.

"so back to the game, who wants to start? oh and if anyone moves," you feel the pinch of a knife resting dangerously on the pulse in your neck.

"one twist and she's on the ground and i'll be miles away. and this would've been all for nothing" he moves the knife down to the centre of your neck. leaving spots of blood in its wake. all of them look helplessly at each other, the unsub had them right where he wanted them and they knew. any slight movement would guarantee your death, any secret calls would have you beaten before they could hang up.

you were all at his mercy, whether they liked it or not

"derek morgan" the unsub peered around the group and his eyes settle on him eerily. morgan gulps a little, trying to calm his shaking hands. his eyes looks at you helplessly then back to the unsub where his gaze had hardened as puts up his profiler front once more

"we're starting off easy, how many years have you and agent l/n known each other" the question was simple enough and yet it felt like he asked into the lions den, suddenly feeling rather exposed and confused. as if any answer to this simple question would be wrong even if it was the truth

"wha-" derek began but he heard a sound of disapproval and your shocked wince as you were yanked back by your hair

"wrong answer" you weren't even given a warning or a countdown before you feel a surge of hot white pain floods through your body. painful screams rip out through your mouth, your hands desperately clawing at the handcuffs but its to no avail. the team stand there panicking, yelling at the man to stop. the pain was intense, you could've almost passed out from the pure agony crippling you

"waitwait wait stop stop!!! it's three!!! i've known her three years!!!" derek shouts, banging the screen and the pain is low dull one, you gasp and gulp for oxygen that never fully reaches your lungs.

"if you had answered the first time around, none of this would have happened would it?" he scowls, giving you a nudge with the stick. you gasp out for air, your tongue heavy on your lips as your body groans against the ties holding you up

"hurry up garcia" hotch commands under his breath to penelope, her eyes watering as she's trying desperately get some location on you. jj and emily help, trying not to look at the horror that was unfolding and focus their attention on bringing you back safely.

"i'm so sorry, i'm so sorry-" morgan whispers, his hands shaking looking to and back from you and the unsub. hotch can only stare with his mind spinning, breathing coming out in short bursts, his heart feeling like it had plunged to the deepest darkest parts of the earth. he's losing his composure and as much as he's trying to reel it back, it keeps slipping from him. leaving nothing but a vulnerable scared man

"how you doing?" the man prods your head and you could only gasp at the anguish flooding your body. if it weren't for the incredibly tight rope holding you upright, you would've collapsed a long time ago.

"doesn't she look so pretty?" he holds your face mockingly and turns so the rest of them can see. every member of your team feel their hearts shattering and splintering, their hitched gasps of panic at the beating.

"agent hotchner" the unsub asked another question, his dark eyes settling on hotch. a manical grin on his lips as he revels in the alarm he has inflicted on the whole team. as if it gives him satisfaction that your life danced in his hands and your team members could do nothing but watch

"truth or dare?" the unsub smirks and hotch looks at you, his stoic facade crumbling. his heart was falling into a million pieces he's not sure he'll ever recover from

"truth" hotch utters, his voice completely free from the cold tone he usually dons.

"do you love agent l/n??" the chain holding you upright once again loosens, and that sends you tumbling to the floor in a broken beaten pile. your heart was racing, partly because of the pain but mostly due to what he would answer. with a good amount of strength, you raise your head and look at the camera. looking at his face, how his eyes flickers with so many emotions and how you can practically see his resolve breaking away

hotch was a good liar but seeing your broken defeated face, being unable to help you, he had answered the question without even realising.

"yes" the murmur was soft, his voice cracking as he takes in your approach. he had caused this. he had done this to you. the promise of protection was nothing more than jumbled words at his feet. he broke the very thing he swore on you, how could ever look at you the same again?

"aww what a cute lil romantic story this has evolved into" the unsub had cackled and your head shook, glaring at both hotch and the man who had held you captive

"there's nothing... romantic about this" your voice was weak but firm, refusing to even meet hotch's eyes.

"shut up" the man had gripped you, ignoring the protest your team were calling. it felt like too much, he held your chin and you look at him, it was now or never. you had to escape, you had to be free.

you had to survive

with one swift move, all your strength goes in knocking him down. he tumbles to the table, breaking the rotting wood with ease. the instruments clatter and you get up, hissing when your abdomen stretched a little. looking down, you see your body littered with blood and bruises. a huge burn mark plastering your side as the dress ripped apart but you didn't have time to feel sorry for yourself when you hear voices crying out that he was attacking again

"in front, y/n!!" derek commands and you duck, making him fall into the table. you quickly grabbing the keys from the scattered objects on the floor, jamming it into the lock and twiddling until you felt a click. the metal loosens and you feel them slipping off, eternally grateful that for once the universe was on your side.

you didn't get time to react for when you look in front, he's there again. but your leg connects with his groin, remembering the training moves you were taught. the force of the kick was enough to paralyse him for a few minutes as he screamed. you looked around, quickly trying to find some keys to unlock the door. your freedom was close, you could practically taste it as you rushed around.

and then you had made the biggest mistake of looking into the camera for a second.

in that second you catch a glimpse of hotch's face, it completely startles you. as if the world had stilled for a fleeting moment and all you see is hotch, just looking at you with so many emotions it's hard to decipher which is the most dominant. how despite everything, you want to hug him and never let go. your body inbetween his arms and your head against his heart, protected against any and all bad in this world. and then you remember the heartache he's caused you, the moment that had led up to you getting captured and every memory is a dagger to your heart. how could things have gotten so wrong?

but it was that moment that was used to the unsub's advantage

you hear screams echoing in the room but you don't comprehend until you feel a burning sensation completely puncture your abdomen. gasping, you look down to see blood gathering at your feet and dripping down your legs and before you even look back up, the object breaks the skin a second time. as if it was all in slow motion, your teams watched the horrific steps play out like a twisted play.

"i told you not to mess with me, you stupid bitch!" he grips and twists the object once more, resulting in a breathless gasp leaving your lips. the pain felt intense, a throbbing sensation overtaking you as you collapse. the horrible sound of your skin being punctures all but echoes in hotch's head, unable to do anything but to scream your name. shocked screams echo in the bau room, penelope's fingers are furiously typing away as she squeezes her eyes, unable to stop the horrible penetrative sound of your skin being stabbed in her mind.

the pain grows worse by the second and your scream dies on your lips, eyes fluttering closed ready to accept and await the darkness that overtakes your consciousness.

"nonono.... no!!!" hotch could barely manage a whisper, banging the screen as if he could magically appear to your aide. but he was simply doomed to watch you as you suffer and collaspe to the ground, breathing quickening. this couldn't be, this couldn't be the end.

you can see him and painfully you turn to watch his face. you don't know what emotions has crossed over his features, he still looks as beautiful as he did the first day you had set eyes upon him. how lucky you were to experience what it was like to be kissed by such a man, to be able to be in the presence of such a wonderful person. your tears had blurred your vision, not out of pain but out of gratitude. even laying on this cold floor, bleeding out, you were purely thankful for him.

he had protected you before and now it was your turn, this way he could focus on his wife and child. you would never be in the way again. there's a hint of the softest smile upon your lips as your eyes close. your fists loosened, limbs becoming limp as you closed your eyes, allowing the darkness to fully encapsulate your mind and body. maybe in a different world, a lighter one, you and hotch could be together against all odds.

the screen fizzles into a black page and hotch barely lets a breath out he didn't think he was holding. his hands have gripped the chairs, he didn't trust himself to stand without the support. he could feel his eyes prickling with the tears as hard as he tried to disguise them, his world was falling apart at the seams and he couldn't do a thing to fix it. all he wants is to be with you but now he didn't even know if you were alive anymore, that thoughts sends him further spiralling in his despair. he wanted nothing more than the ground to completely swallow him whole, the lump in his throat growing bigger as his team members looks at him. partly with concern, fear and pure sadness.

the room was completely silent, everyone's faces covered with a look of pure sorrow and so much anguish.

penelope's tears won't stop trickling down her cheeks. emily and jj look at each other with helplessness, their tears shining underneath the lights. morgan and reid lean against the table their hearts thundering in their chest, completely unable to process what had just taken place while rossi sits by a chair his head in his hands at the pure shock and pain running through him.

"it-it didn't look that terrible, she could still.... be alive" against his better judgement reid offers his support softly. the crushing weight of your absence completely crumbling hotch in a way they've never seen before.

"she was stabbed twice, reid. don't be so naive to think she could've possibly survived that alongside with the beating he had delivered. you above all, should know that much" his voice was harsher than he intended, heavy as the lump in his throat grew bigger. it felt like the air was being cut off, his thoughts ricocheting across from one another as his knees give way and he crashes to the floor in pure defeat and torture. he could faintly feel someone come to his help, his name being called but his mouth refuses to answer. all he can think about, all his mind is replaying is the moment before you closed your eyes. how he wasn't there to help you, how he couldn't rescue you this time.

you could've still been there with them had he been to your aid just 60 seconds earlier. if he had chased you quickly, you wouldn't be beaten and bruised within an inch of your life and now you were... gone. his heart felt like it was being twisted painfully, gripped tight as the thought of never hearing your laugh and seeing your smile became permanent. the dam had broken and the tears spilled down his face, his hands clutching the carpet but to no avail.

what we he supposed to do now, haunting by the memory of you like this? what was he supposed to do haunted with the ghost of you?

[unseededtoast]

Take My Hand | Spencer Reid x F! Reader

Part Two to I Stayed There

Inspired by “Right Where You Left Me” by Taylor Swift

Summary: In which almost a decade later unlikely paths cross again, with little time to make big decisions. What once was broken can be mended, and the past can be forgiven. Frozen hearts can be reignited and destined souls can become one again. But only if given the chance.

Cross posted on Wattpad and AO3 and here is my masterlist!

wc: 10.3k

warnings: a lot of angst, pining, men begging on their knees, emotional turmoil

a/n: howdy folks, back at it again with part two. I want to thank everyone for the overwhelming support on part one, and I really hope part two lives up to your expectations. It got a little lengthy, but I hope you all enjoy it. And as always, thank you so very much for taking the time to read my stories, I appreciate each and every one of you.

"I knew if I told you that there was someone else that you wouldn't push the issue. I knew you loved me too much to interfere with my happiness. I used your own love against you and I am so sorry." He sniffles and pushes tears from his eyes.

His words feel like someone has punched you square in the stomach. Spencer had never found anyone else, he just wanted to protect you. He loved you too much to let you be harmed. Realizing his actions were done out of pure love, and not betrayal, a sob bubbles up from your chest.

Years upon years you had spent every night in envy of the other woman who was receiving Spencer's love. Months had been dedicated to wondering what you could've done differently to keep him from leaving. Countless weeks spent in agonizing misery, mourning and yearning for the love of your life.

Eight years, eleven months, and twenty-eight days. That's how much time has passed since Spencer had walked out, and every day that passes and another day is added to the count, his heart grows heavier.

Sure, he's able to get up in the mornings and do his job thoroughly, but the joy life once had has faded. He's become jaded, and everyone has noticed. They've all just accepted that it's who he is now. He no longer tries to go out of his way to inquire about his teammates and their lives, he stopped practicing his magic tricks when there was downtime. Instead, he keeps to himself for the most part. The only time the team really hears from him is when there's an active case.

The first year or so the team had given him some grace, they understood how badly the break up had affected him; they assumed he'd bounce back eventually, but more and more time passed with no indication of returning to his former self.

And after a while they stopped trying to set him up with dates, they quit teasing him about being disinterested in getting back out there. Spencer had never told them exactly what happened, but after they stopped, he suspected Derek filled in the blanks for them.

Truthfully, the rest of the team had taken pity on him; they understood all too well why he had initiated the breakup. But even with their knowledge and insight, they are still saddened by what Spencer has become, and they wish every day that his old personality will resurface. But until that day comes, if it ever does, they will remain supportive from a distance with which he is comfortable with.

"You ready for the next case?" Derek asks Spencer as he stirs the sugar into his coffee. Spencer stares at the rising steam before answering.

"Yeah, I'm ready." He replies and grabs the cup, following Derek to the briefing room where JJ and the rest are awaiting them.

Spencer takes his usual spot and listens to JJ explain the case. It's a local case, a wife gone missing in the middle of the day yesterday. From the photos, it looks like it could've been a burglary gone bad. Spencer zones out a little while JJ is explaining, instead focusing on his coffee, which he wishes he would've put more sugar into. After JJ has completed the brief, the team heads out to start working, and like usual, Spencer is tasked with the geographical profile.

Derek works alongside him under the order of Hotch while the rest go explore leads. The two of them work silently and efficiently, singling out places of interest to investigate and narrowing down a perimeter for officers to search.

"What do you think about it?" Derek breaks the silence, earning a sigh from Spencer. He steps away from the board and crosses his arms, studying what they have so far.

"I think it's weird that nothing of value was really missing, just the wife. You'd think if it were a burglary gone bad the unsub would've taken something else." Spencer's eyes dance across the crime scene photos, mind working a hundred miles a minute to make sense of this.

"Well maybe it wasn't a burglary." Derek says, eyes trained on a photo of the husband who reported his wife missing.

"Maybe not." Spencer agrees, and the two of them delve back into the work.

-----

You stir your tea around in your cup, settling on the couch for some morning television before you start your day. There's a laundry list of things you need to get done, only you lack the necessary motivation to get started on it all. Your hand finds the remote and turns the volume up, the woman on the screen piquing your interest and distracting you from your responsibilities.

"Mrs. Greene was reported missing late last night by her husband. At this time, her whereabouts are still unknown, and the authorities urge you to contact them if you have any information." The news reporter speaks with clarity and urgency. A photo of the missing woman pops onto the screen, but you don't recognize her. You hope they find her alive, but you know cases like this usually don't end well.

Thinking about what might have happened to the woman, your mind drifts to Spencer, and you wonder how he would approach the case. Would he immediately suspect the husband? Or would he hold off on judgment until he got the facts straight? Running your hand over his blanket, you wish he was here to talk about it.

Though it's been almost nine years at this point, there isn't a day that goes by that you don't think of him. You hope he's doing well, you hope he's found happiness. And at this point, you even think he might have a family of his own. But you try not to dwell on that thought too long, for it still makes you sick to your stomach to imagine him having a family with anyone other than you.

Of course, you could always ask Derek, but you think that a part of you would prefer not to know. Because if you don't know for sure, then there's always a chance that you're wrong. In order to stay functional you need the plausible deniability. While you want him to be happy, and you want him to live his life to the fullest, his absence is still very prominent and noticeable to you.

After you finish your tea, you place your cup on the white tablecloth adorning the dining room table, red stain having faded to pink from time and wear. And while the stain may fade, you know for a fact your memory about that morning will always be in your mind. And if the stain wasn't enough of a reminder, the scars on the bottoms of your feet are. It still hurts to step a certain way after all this time, the glass had embedded itself deeply into your skin, causing lasting damage.

Once you get ready for the day, you embark on the errands you have to run. A small part inside of you is excited about this new journey; it'll be like a fresh start and you think that's exactly what you need. You don't really want to move away, you love this city, but it houses memories that will forever hold you prisoner if you let them; and you've let them for the past nine years. The other part of you, the part that still clings to Spencer, is suffering and it makes this decision ten times harder. The guilt slowly, but surely, eats away at you with each step you take down the street but you try to convince yourself that this is the right move to be making.

Ignoring your emotional turmoil, you walk into the leasing agent's building and find her office easily, having already been here once last week to start the process of relisting the apartment. She welcomes you in and explains the paperwork as you sit across from her. The agent tells you where to sign and when you will need to be out of the apartment once you've submitted the paperwork. She said that since Spencer had taken his name off the lease years ago, that this process is a hundred times easier since there's no permission needed from him anymore. It's a bittersweet statement you realize.

You take the papers from the agent's office and tell her that you'll be back soon with everything signed. She had wanted you to fill everything out right there, but you couldn't bring yourself to do it. After all, this apartment holds so much sentimental value and the thought of it being someone else's makes your heart ache. You'll have to build yourself up to sign them, once you've fully convinced yourself that this is the right thing to do. And you know that once you sign those papers, the tiny part of Spencer you still have, will be yours no longer.

After the leasing agent's office, you take a trip to a moving company to get a quote on how much it would cost to move your things from Virginia to Colorado. The price they gave you was a little steeper than you had hoped for, but you thank them nonetheless and try to figure out how to foot that bill while also finding a new place to live. There are a few places in your sights, but you had yet to decide on one.

You return to your apartment after you had completed the last few errands on your list, dropping the stack of papers onto the dining table and unloading the groceries you had picked up on your way back home. The sun had started to set and so you turned on a few lamps and lit a candle, wanting to try to soothe your anxieties after today and have a relaxing evening.

A glass of wine finds its way into your hand after dinner, you kick your feet up on the coffee table and sip while staring at the screen in front of you. They're running another story on the missing woman, but it seems they have more details. Intrigued, you turn the volume up.

"Authorities are now saying that the scene looks like it could have been a robbery gone bad. Informants on the scene noted that there were signs of a struggle inside the residence. If you noticed any suspicious activity, contact the sheriff's office immediately." The reporter switches to a different story, and you change the channel, wanting to know more about the missing woman. And you know there's always one channel that seems to be ahead of the news.

The reporter is a fiery blonde-haired lady who makes her opinions well-known to the public. And you know her persona is probably partially to generate views and interest value, but you can't deny that she's able to get insider information quicker than the traditional news channels. Sure enough, the woman's face is on the center of the screen, and she's going on about Mrs. Greene's disappearance in a very animated manner.

"You're telling me that a husband reports his wife missing hours after he was aware of her absence? He knew that she was gone since at least the afternoon, and he didn't report it to police until almost the next day? Not only that, but there's been a disturbance in the house! From the photos I've seen so far, the ottoman in the living room was knocked over, the coffee table was shattered, and the dining room chairs were all sorts of disheveled. And to top it all off, I've got someone on the scene there, and they just told us that police are reporting a positive luminol test. There was blood on the scene that's been cleaned up. Now I'm no expert, but I think that certainly casts suspicion on Mr. Greene." Her voice drones on and on about her theory that Mr. Greene was most definitely involved in the disappearance of his wife, but something about the details is oddly familiar, you just can't quite put your finger on it.

You go to bed that night trying to recall why those details sound so familiar. Tossing and turning, you struggle to pinpoint where you've heard something like that before and it's beginning to drive you insane. The plots of movies and shows run through your mind, trying to piece things together, but to no avail. You eventually drift off to sleep, and for the first night in nine years, your dreams are full of something other than Spencer; your mind finally has something compelling enough to mull over to distract you from the cold, empty spot beside you.

The morning comes and your hand ghosts over the spot next to you, like it does every morning. You had hoped that by now your unconscious would understand that he's not here to hold close in the morning anymore, but you wake up the same way every day; full of sorrow and longing. With a sigh, you push yourself out of bed, the air feeling crisp against your skin. What you wouldn't give for five minutes of Spencer's warmth.

Your morning routine comes and goes, and you find yourself staring at a stack of cardboard boxes, waiting to be filled. Hands on your hips, you look around at everything that needs to be packed. Things are either coming with you, or they're being returned to their rightful owner. You still had no idea how you're going to get everything back to Spencer, but you figure you'll work it out when the time comes. For now, you'll start boxing things up.

With a box beside you, your heart constricts as you reach for a stack of Spencer's books to be put away indefinitely. The empty shelf is reflective of the emptiness in your soul, and you're not sure if it'll ever fill back in. Truthfully, you don't know what could possibly mend the brokenness as your heart only has one desire.

You pack up two bookcases before you're unable to handle it anymore. With each empty shelf the reality sets in more and more; he's not coming back here. Your Spencer isn't going to knock on the door and come back to you. You turn your head to look at the door, not sure what you're expecting, but your eyes land on his coat that still hangs from the rack. It lost its signature Spencer scent about three years ago, but you don't have it in you to take it down, not yet at least.

You're keenly aware that eventually you'll have to pack up the stained tablecloth, Spencer's clothes that remain in the dressers, his favorite blanket, and give them away forever, never to be seen or touched by you again. Then all you'll have left of him are the memories, and after all this time some of them have already faded entirely. You're no longer able to remember many of the small moments shared together, you can't recall how his lips felt against your forehead as he bid you goodbye in the mornings before work. You fear that in another nine years you won't remember anything except his name and the moment he walked out of the door.

You fold the top of the box down and slide it across the room to join the others. When you return to the shelf to assess what size box you need next, your eyes land on a very specific book. It's one you had recommended to Spencer. You told him it was a compelling story and though it's not a literary classic, he should give it a try and broaden his horizons. Of course, it took you a week to finish it and it took him a casual afternoon.

The details of the book flood your mind and you realize why the disappearance of Mrs. Greene seemed so familiar. Your hands open the book and flip through the pages, finding exactly what you were looking for. In a frenzy, your eyes scan over the words and they grow wide with realization. Either this is one of the biggest delusions you've convinced yourself of, or you might just be onto something.

You reread the words over and over again, wrestling with yourself about whether this is worthy of submitting a tip. From the perspective of an investigator, it may seem absolutely ridiculous. I mean after all, you're using a piece of fiction to explain a real-life situation. But a small voice in the back of your head reminds you of something Spencer had said several times,

"Sometimes what seems like an insignificant detail ends up cracking the case."

Youwrestle with what to do, placing the book on the coffee table and pacing around, the television providing low background noise as your mind goes through different reasonings. You stop pacing around once you see a familiar blonde-haired woman on the screen, her FBI credentials hanging from her blazer pocket.

Sitting on the edge of the couch, you turn the volume up and listen to her intently. She announces that the BAU is actively working the case and that they hope to find Mrs. Greene soon. She also implores the public for any information. Your phone on the dining room table seems to call your name, and before you can think through what you're doing, the phone is ringing.

"What's up sweet thing?" Derek's voice greets you through the phone. You trust that even if your speculation is wildly ridiculous that he won't make fun of you. You explain to him your theory but he cuts you off in the middle of your sentence.

"Come by the office in the morning and explain it to the team. It might just be something." He asks, and you sigh.

"Derek I don't-" You begin making your excuse of why you can't go to their office, but he cuts you off for a second time.

"He won't be there, just come on by." Before you can get another word in, he hangs the phone up. It seems you have no choice, really.

Anxiety blooms within you, you haven't been to the BAU office in a decade. And the last time you were there was under much better and happier circumstances. But if Derek promised Spencer wouldn't be there, you figure it's worth going if your theory can help find Mrs. Greene. You just hope that the others don't bring him up in any capacity; you don't think you could handle hearing how happy he is with her while you suffer every single day without him.

-----

Nine years. It's been nine years today since Spencer left you. He stares up at the ceiling when his eyes open in the morning, heavy with sleep. There's an uncomfortable emptiness within him, fueled by his thoughts of what today signifies. He's sure the only thing he'll be able to do is replay that fateful night over and over again in his mind today, he's not sure how he's going to stay focused on the case.

Eventually, he gets himself out of bed and begins his morning routine. He buttons his shirt, puts a tie on, and shrugs a sweater overtop. Spencer stares at himself in the mirror, his reflection showing him the grim reality that is the dark circles under his eyes and his unkempt hair. His eyes trail down to see that his tie is crooked, and his fingers fix it; but he can never fix it like you used to.

Breakfasts don't seem to be as tasty as the ones you made, heading off to work without a goodbye kiss gives him no ambition for the day, and there's nothing to look forward to after he's off the clock for you aren't eagerly awaiting his return with a smile on your face. In the nine years that have passed, the vibrant world has devolved into grayscale.

The clock on the wall tells him he still has two hours before he's supposed to be in. Derek told him to take a few hours this morning, he knows how hard today was bound to be for Spencer, and he was right. But Spencer is restless, he knows if he stays in this apartment for another hour and a half that he's going to let his mind take him to sorrowful places; and that's sure to affect the team dynamic.

After three years, Derek had confronted Spencer. He said that while he understands the pain, that Spencer can't let it affect his job performance. And that if he did, there's a chance he'd have to be let go. So after that day, Spencer made an effort to keep up his appearances and performance. He couldn't bear to lose you and the job. If he lost the job then it means he left you for nothing. It had to be for something, for something good and meaningful.

Spencer ties his shoelaces and finds his messenger bag, slinging it over his shoulder. The team isn't expecting him for a while, but he's got nothing better to do and he doesn't want to be left alone with his thoughts any longer than he has to. And surely the team won't mind him coming in sooner than scheduled, besides there's just something about this case that seems so oddly familiar to him.

-----

The elevator door dings and you find yourself in front of familiar doors, the FBI logo cleanly shining on the glass doors into the BAU's office space. Readjusting the bag on your shoulder, you go to open the doors to find lots of agents buzzing about, carrying folders and talking to others. You're really just looking for one agent in particular, but you can't seem to find him. Feeling anxious about being here, you contemplate just turning around and going back home. As you go to make your quick escape, you hear Derek's voice behind you.

"There she is!" He says and you swear you can hear the smile on his face. His arm wraps around your shoulders, bringing you in for a brief hug. So much for your escape plan. You plaster the best smile that you can manage on your face and return his hug, his embrace is familiar and warm.

"Here I am." You say, nerves twisting your stomach around. Derek leads you through the craziness of the bullpen into a smaller room, where people are already waiting. You recognize the blonde from the TV, and you remember Garcia and Hotch, but you don't know who the dark haired lady is, nor the older man. But you're thankful that there's one missing agent from the table. Feeling like you're under heavy scrutiny, you give everyone a polite smile and wait for Derek to take the lead like you know he will.

After a few moments of silence, Derek claps his hands together to gain everyone's attention and then introduces you to the team. Once again, you give your politest smile and listen to Derek explain why you're here. The team all looks to you with interest, and you pull the book from the bag on your shoulder.

"So, I know this may sound silly, but I couldn't help but notice all the similarities, just from what I've gathered from the news. If you look where I put the bookmarks, you'll see what I mean." You tell them in rushed words, anxious to see their reactions, expecting ridicule.

"Gone Girl, huh?" The older man Derek introduced as Rossi questions, leaning in closer to the book to read the marked pages. You nod, chewing on your bottom lip as their eyes scan the pages.

"It is oddly similar. The picture frames on the mantle, the ottoman, the blood in the kitchen. I wonder if there are more similarities that we just haven't noticed." The dark-haired woman, Emily, speaks up first. Her words of interest makes it feel like a weight has been lifted from your shoulders, they're not going to ridicule you after all. In fact, it seems like they may be entertaining the idea.

While you're engrossed in the team's blooming discussion about what this might mean, you hadn't heard the door to the room open, and you hadn't noticed who stepped through that door. No, your attention is solely on the lively debate about what the team's next step should be. Emily thinks that this might be a path worth pursuing, but Rossi urges her to keep an open mind. It's not until the discussion has died down, and the team all thanks you for coming in, do you turn to leave. Immediately your eyes land on his tall frame, standing right in the doorway.

Spencer is standing right in front of you.

It feels like the air has been kicked out of your lungs, your limbs feel like they've turned to jelly. The blood in your veins turns to ice and you're frozen to the floor. Ringing sounds off in your ears, unable to hear anything around you. The only thing you can focus on is his honeyed eyes staring right back into yours. It's like the rest of the world has dissolved, and he is the only thing that remains.

In his eyes you can see your Spencer, you remember so clearly the first time his eyes met yours, and how you were enamored from the very beginning. The first time you laid eyes on him you felt your heart race and you just knew you had to go up to him and say something, or else you'd regret it. You remember how soft spoken and polite he was, and how he stumbled over his words when he asked you on your first date. His hazel eyes dazzled under the warm lights that night and you knew you were hooked. His eyes hold so many precious memories, and they all flash right after another in your mind, even the memories that had faded with time come back.

Derek's hand on your elbow knocks you out of your trance and you realize then that the whole team is staring at the two of you, but you don't care. You come back to your senses and look over Spencer, taking note of how his hair is longer, curlier, and how his tie is still crooked. He's even grown out his facial hair a little. He looks so much like the Spencer you knew but nothing alike at the same time. This Spencer looks tired, worn down, and just plainly miserable. It deeply pains you to see him in such a condition.

He licks his lips and opens his mouth to say something, but he stays silent. You see his hands clench beside him and your face flushes with heat, your eyes begin to sting, and you feel like it's becoming harder to breathe.

"Come on, I'll walk you out." Derek says into your ear and he gently tugs you towards the door, where your eyes stay locked onto Spencer as you follow Derek. Spencer takes a step to the side to let you and Derek out of the room, and your arm just barely brushes against his, sending a tingling feeling throughout your body. You feel a tear drip down your cheek, and you swear you can see tears in his eyes too.

Derek gets you down to the parking lot where your car awaits you and he opens the door for you and helps you in. He can tell that you're going through something. You haven't said a word, you have a far away look in your eye, and you're crying without bothering to wipe away the tears. It's almost like you're in shock, and in a way, you are.

"He wasn't supposed to be here for another hour, I'm sorry. If I had known I would've just come over or something." Derek apologizes, but you shake your head, slowly coming back to reality.

"It's not your fault, Derek. Maybe this was the universe's way of letting me say goodbye, get some closure." You speak, voice hoarse. Derek's eyebrows furrow together,

"What do you mean?" He asks, not understanding what your words imply. He'll never admit it to you, but he's concerned about how you're going to handle this run-in. From experience, he knows that you're likely to spiral after this, and that's the last thing he wants for you. After all the progress you've made lately and your personality finally beginning to come back, he fears this may cause a relapse of sorts.

"I'm moving to Colorado." You tell him for the first time. His mouth falls agape in surprise.

-----

After Derek comes back into the office from seeing you out, he can tell that the atmosphere has changed in the room. Glances are being thrown Spencer's way, and Spencer looks more pale than usual, like he had just seen a ghost. He's lost in his own mind, oblivious to the looks everyone is giving him.

"Let's head to the scene one more time to see if this theory holds up. Morgan, Reid, you can meet us there." Hotch announces and stands from the table, the rest of the team following closely behind. Once everyone has dispersed, Derek sits across from Spencer.

"You okay?" He asks, not knowing where  Spencer is at mentally. His watery eyes glance from the tabletop to Derek, and he swallows hard.

"Today is the nine year anniversary of when I left." He says, and Derek's heart breaks for the two of you. Sure, it would've been hard on any given day for the two of you to see each other, but on a day with so much significance? It has to be gut wrenching. And to put the cherry on top, Derek knows the news he has to break to Spencer.

"Listen man. She told me something before she left and I think you should know." Derek's hand finds its way to Spencer's shoulder.

"What is it?" Spencer's mind is running through dozens of scenarios, trying to predict what you possibly could've said. Derek lips his lips and sighs,

"She told me she's moving to Colorado." Spencer feels as if the entire world has stopped spinning.

"What? When?" His voice is breathy and desperate. He has to know where you're going, when you're going, and why. He can't stand the thought of you being out there alone without being able to make sure you're okay. Derek's hand squeezes Spencer's shoulder, trying to comfort him.

"She said within the next few weeks, but she's got some loose ends to tie up here first." Spencer nods, understanding he still has some time to figure out how to approach this situation. He can't see anything clearly right now, for his mind is self-destructing from the thought of losing you for good.

"Maybe I can find a way to delay her trip somehow, or find out where she's going and set up some sort of periodic welfare check. Or maybe I set up a fake social media profile to follow her and make sure she's still okay." Spencer begins rattling off different ways he can make sure that you'll be okay if he can't be there. And he's well aware that his suggestions sound like borderline stalking, but he doesn't care, his love for you knows no boundaries and he would go to the ends of the Earth to make sure you're okay.

He needs to know that you are okay, no matter how many miles are put between the two of you. If he can't know that you're okay then he doesn't know what he's going to do; he even considers relocating to a field office out in Colorado just in case you need help.

"I've watched the two of you destroy yourselves over the past nine years. Neither of you have actually been able to recover, and you know it. She still thinks that you're with another woman. You're still in love with her, and now it's time to make your decision on whether you can let her go or not." Derek's voice speaks reason into Spencer's racing mind and he realizes that Derek is right. He's got a decision to make, and he has to make it soon.

-----

Rain patters against the window, providing some white noise for you while you tape the top of a box down. At this point, you've managed to pack up all of Spencer's books and every bookcase now sits barren. You swear the absence of his books causes the apartment to drop a few degrees, it feels empty and lifeless. You told the leasing agent that you would be by in the morning to drop off the paperwork, finally gaining the courage to sign them last night.

It had taken you about ten days after seeing Spencer before you could push yourself to sign them. A tiny part of you was still clinging to hope that he would come by. But he didn't. And he's not going to, you have to remind yourself. Constantly you have to remind yourself that you were able to see him one last time, and that's going to have to be enough closure, for it's all you're going to receive. But still, you can't help but feel the hole in your soul ache with desire for him.

Standing in the middle of an almost barren apartment, you're haunted by memories of happier days. You can remember the first time you and Spencer had walked through the front door, excited for your future together. Little by little, the two of you decorated and furnished the apartment to make it your own private haven where the two of you could seek refuge in each other.

Your hands find Spencer's blanket draped over the back of the couch, and you hold it close one last time, trying to commit the feeling to memory. It lost Spencer's scent long, long ago, but you still cherish it. After you've made peace with it, you fold it and place it in the bottom of a box, and go to the bedroom. Pulling out drawers of the dresser, Spencer's clothes are still neatly folded, just as he had left them. His clothes find their place on top of the blanket, and soon enough, the drawers are empty and more boxes are taped shut.

Evening comes around and you zip up a familiar dress, ready to spend one last night in a familiar restaurant. Today would've been your twelfth anniversary. Just like every year, you had made a very specific reservation, only this year will be the last. Applying mascara to your eyelashes, you give yourself one last look in the mirror. You can still see the young woman you once were in your reflection.

Your phone buzzing on the counter tears your gaze away from the mirror. You see that Derek is trying to call you, and so you pick up without a second thought.

"Hey sweet thing, what are you doing tonight? How about you come over and we have a farewell drink?" He offers and you smile at his generosity, knowing that any other day you would've taken him up on it.

"Sorry Derek, I can't tonight. I've got a reservation." You tell him, knowing that he will understand what you mean. He doesn't keep track of the days like you do, but he's familiar with your annual tradition.

"Okay, another night then, enjoy yourself." His voice is warm as he hangs up the phone. You're grateful that Derek has been a reliable friend throughout the years, and you know you're going to miss him when you move. Of course you'll make the effort to stay in contact, it just won't be the same as having him nearby.

The waitress shows you to your seat and you order the same wine you get every year. It doesn't matter if your tastes have changed, that's not the point. By now the rain is coming down harder, and you can't help but wonder if the Earth is mourning the end of things like you are. Your lipstick leaves faint marks around the rim of the glass and you stare at the empty chair in front of you.

Each year, you try your best to remember what it was like when Spencer was here, but each year your memory becomes more and more hazy on the details. Until one year you couldn't even remember what color tie he was wearing. Instead, all you can recall is the way he made you feel. You intend to drag this dinner out as long as you possibly can, knowing once you leave here that it's just one more piece of Spencer you've had to say farewell to for the final time.

There's a couple sitting at the table next to you, sharing smiles and clinking their glasses together. You try not to stare, but they remind you so much of who you used to be. The woman's eyes have a hopeful spark in them, hopelessly in love with the man who sits across from her who is obviously just as in love with her. When the waitress comes around to ask if you need anything else, you ask if you can pay for their tab.

An hour later, you're swirling around the remnants of wine in your glass. You had finished dinner and consumed enough wine for the night, so now you're just stalling. You can't yet pry yourself up from this spot, still clinging dearly to this part of Spencer you still have. Once you stand up, it'll make this reality all too real, and you can't face it quite yet. So you give yourself a few more minutes to mourn the way you need to and to make your peace here.

You hear the front door open, but your sights are set outside the window, watching the rain pelt the sidewalk. There's some sort of rushed conversation happening by the hostess' stand, but you can't make out the words, not that you're trying to anyways. The couple that you paid for gets up and leaves the restaurant, and that gains your attention. You offer them a weak smile as they giddily exit the restaurant; their happiness only emphasizes your sorrows.

Before you can turn back to resume watching the rain, someone stands in front of you. Your eyes trail up the person's body, only to find Spencer in front of you, hair wet from the rain, hands occupied with a bouquet of pastel-colored tulips. Your heart drops into your stomach and you have to blink a few times to make sure that he's actually real and standing right in front of you.

"Spencer." His name falls from your mouth effortlessly and breathily, shocked to see him here. He licks his lips and looks over you once before meeting your eyes, a familiar look within them.

-----

Spencer paces around his apartment, hair disheveled from raking nervous fingers through it. His mind has been consumed with nothing except for you since he saw you at the BAU. Derek's words keep repeating themselves in his head,

"She still thinks that you're with another woman...make your decision on whether you can let her go or not."

He knows his time is running out and yet he's conflicted as to what is the right thing to do. The logical and rational part of him is quick to remind himself that he left for a reason, for your safety. The photographs in the unsub's room flash before his eyes, vividly reminding him of what kind of danger his presence puts you in.

But the aching in his chest yearns for your touch, to hear your laugh. For years he's been able to make sure that you're taken care of from a distance. Some years he would anonymously send tulips to your apartment, and other times he would pay the leasing agent half of your rent so it would be one less thing for you to worry about. Of course, it had taken some convincing to ensure the agent would keep his donations a secret, and as far as he knows the agent kept good on the agreement.

Nervously, Spencer bites the skin around his nails, a battle of reason and emotion waging itself inside his mind. He turns to pace again, but this time his eyes catch a picture that sits on a side table. It's a small photo, taken in the early days of your relationship. Spencer picks up the picture that he's committed to memory, seeing the bright smile on your face, your eyes wrinkles at the sides from happiness, his lips pressed to your cheek and his arms around your waist.

His mind morphs his own body into another man. And now he's seeing that man's arms around your waist, another man's lips on your cheek, and it's almost enough to bring Spencer to his knees. Abandoning the photo, he moves quickly to put his shoes on with newfound purpose.

He's made his decision.

With rushed movements, Spencer makes his way to the florist he frequents for your flowers. It's a race against the clock, he only has five minutes to spare and he hopes that the florist is still there. The rain makes it hard to see the road, it slows traffic and the anxiety bubbles up in his chest.

With one minute to spare, Spencer enters the florist to see the sweet older lady packing up for the day. His entrance startles her, and she jumps.

"Spencer?" She questions, knowing he's not due back for another month at least. He nods his head frantically,

"Yes ma'am, sorry to come by like this but I'm hoping you can help me." He swallows hard, heart pounding in his chest from the adrenaline flowing in his veins. The woman sees his distraught demeanor and gives him a small smile. Of course she'll help him. After all, Spencer is one of her favorite customers; he always leaves her generous tips.

After fifteen minutes, the florist has constructed a beautiful arrangement with all of your favorite colors, tied up with a bow around the stems.

"Good luck." The florist gives him a knowing smile, and he thanks her before rushing over to your apartment. Spencer's fingers tap anxiously on the steering wheel and his chest heaves with nervousness.

He parks his car along the curb and hops out, practically running into the building. There's a small line for the elevators, and he doesn't have time for that. Not when a lifetime with you is at stake. He takes the stairs at record speed and takes a moment to compose himself once he stands at the door.

With a rush of courage, he knocks on the door and waits to hear your footsteps. But instead he's met with silence. He knocks again, a little harder this time and waits. He's met with silence again. Fearing the worst, he digs his phone out of his pocket and calls Derek, who answers on the third ring.

"Listen she isn't here. I'm at the apartment and she's gone. Did she leave already?" Spencer's voice cracks as he asks the dreaded question, but he needs to know. If Derek tells him that you've left, he won't hesitate to take the first flight to Colorado to find you.

"No, she didn't move yet. I called her earlier, she has a reservation. Remember the restaurant you two went to for your first date?" Spencer rushes out a thank you before hanging up, knowing exactly the restaurant. How could he forget?

You were wearing the most beautiful dress that complimented your body well, your hair was loose around your shoulders, and your eyes held the depths of your love. He knew from that exact moment that he would never find a love like yours again.

He parks and haphazardly shoves his keys into his pockets, instead taking care to handle your flowers with the utmost care. His heart thumps heavily in his chest with each step he takes towards the front door.

He runs a hand through his hair as he approaches the hostess stand, and his words come out very rushed. He asks if there's a woman here matching your description, but the hostess is hesitant to answer. He begs her to tell him, insisting that you'll be here waiting for him. The hostess glances between him and the flowers in his hand before nodding and pointing to where you are.

Spencer swallows hard and thanks her, eyes scanning the dimly lit restaurant for you. A couple laughing gains his attention and he can't help but look. And he's thankful he did, for you're sitting right across from them, a sad smile on your face and sorrow in your eyes.

His feet carry him over to you before he can process what he's doing. As if time moves in slow motion, he watches your eyes move up his body before landing on his face. Your eyes grow wide, your jaw goes slack.

He only hopes that you'll listen to what he has to say.

-----

"What are you doing here?" You ask, eyeballing the flowers in his hand; they're oddly reminiscent of the ones you receive on your doorstep every few months.

Of course, he's probably here to meet his girlfriend, or fiancée, or perhaps even wife. A mixture of nausea and confusion hit you like a brick wall but you try your best to maintain your composure while you feel like your insides are melting. Spencer takes a deep breath, his eyes never leaving yours and he finally speaks to you.

"Without you and your love, your touch, your warmth, life is entirely meaningless. Ever since I made the biggest mistake of my life, every day has been like walking through hell. There hasn't been a single day that's gone by that I didn't wish to have you back in my arms or to spend just one more evening with you. And I know this doesn't make up for any of it and I am undeserving of your forgiveness. But, I couldn't let you go without letting you know that I've never stopped loving you." His voice cracks with his confession, and a lone tear rolls down his cheek.

His words sends chills down your spine. What he said just doesn't make any sense. Hadn't he left for someone else? Or perhaps he did and he left her as well, or maybe they're still together and he's just doing this to break your heart one last time. You're conflicted with what you should be thinking and feeling. You had waited for this day for nine years, and now that it's here it doesn't make sense.

"But what about her?" You finally muster up the courage to ask, knowing very well that his answer could break your heart. Spencer shakes his head,

"There was never anyone else." His words sting. Had he left because he fell out of love? Or perhaps he grew bored of you and used a newfound love as an excuse for an easy departure.

The more he speaks, the less you understand. Your eyebrows draw close together in pure confusion, your head shakes and your eyes move from him to the flowers in his hand, another mystery about this situation.

"But you said that you had fallen in love with someone else." You point out, desperately needing some explanation to all of this. Spencer nods his head with a solemn expression.

Instead of answering, he digs some cash out of his pocket and throws it on the table before extending his hand to you, to help you from your seat. The gesture sends your heart soaring, having missed the simplest of touches from him. And no matter how confused you are, you've missed him too much to pass this up. He helps you out of the seat and guides you to the front door with a hand on the small of your back.

A familiar fire within you blooms, one that could only be ignited by Spencer's touch. And with just the slightest contact with him, you feel your frozen heart begin to warm.

Thankfully it appears the rain has stopped, for now at least. The two of you walk slowly beside one another towards the parking lot, something that was once so familiar seems so foreign now. After a few steps you hear Spencer suck in a breath,

"I owe you an explanation." His voice is even, but you can hear his apprehension. You swallow your nerves and agree, wanting to hear every last word he has to say.

-----

By the time you both arrive at the apartment, the sun has fully set and the wind carries a bitter chill with it, piercing through the fabric of your dress. The tension is palpable between the two of you on the elevator ride up, your arms brushing against each other with every little movement.

Your hands tremble as you unlock the door, nervous about being so close to him and what he may tell you. The two of you step through the door and for the first time you see how empty it is, boxes stacked on top of each other throughout the apartment.

Turning around, you watch as Spencer takes in the scene of what his former home now is. Guilt washes over you, but you stay quiet, unsure of what to say. Once he's taken in the apartment, his full attention turns back towards you, his eyes flickering between you and the flowers.

"These are for you." His voice is soft as he hands the flowers to you. You take them, fingers brushing against his as you do.

"Did you- were you the one sending me flowers?" You see the familiar color combinations and arrangement style as the ones you've received off and on for nine years. You had never expected Spencer was the one sending these to you, you had always assumed it was Derek trying to brighten your day. And you had always wondered how Derek knew what your favorite flowers were, but you chalked it up to his profiling skills.

A smile small appears on Spencer's face and he nods. Your heart swells with emotion as it hits you that maybe some of what he said is true, maybe he never has stopped loving you. Not prepared to face all of that just yet, you turn and find a vase to put the flowers in, thankful you hadn't packed them up yet and let them decorate the kitchen counter.

Silence washes over the two of you, but it's short lived as Spencer clears his throat and pulls out a chair at the dining room table. You join him and your blood runs cold as you realize you're sitting in the same places as that day he left. Spencer starts picking at the skin around his nails, opening and closing his mouth as if he can't find the words he's looking for. But you've waited nine years so what's a few more minutes?

"The case I came back from was one of the worst we've ever seen, even to this day." He starts and you nod, leaning forward to soak in every word.

"The unsub had printed out pictures of you hanging from his walls along with the rest of the team. He had a plan to torture each and every one of us, and he was going to use you to hurt me. He had plans to torture you to death." He continues, voice wavering towards the end. Your eyes are glued to Spencer's face as he speaks, never having heard the details of that last case. Derek would never tell you.

"Oh, Spencer." You whisper, wanting so desperately to reach out and comfort him but respecting that he might not want your touch. His eyes glance up to yours, and you see his jaw tense.

"I knew then that my job puts you in too much danger. It was clear that while you were with me that you could be a target for anyone who wanted to get back at us. I couldn't let that happen, I couldn't let someone hurt you because of me." Tears spill down his face and he bites his bottom lip to try and keep his composure. You feel your own lip start to quiver, but you hold it together.

"And I knew if I told you that there was someone else that you wouldn't push the issue. I knew you loved me too much to interfere with my happiness. I used your own love against you and I am so sorry." He sniffles and pushes tears from his eyes.

His words feel like someone has punched you square in the stomach. Spencer had never found anyone else, he just wanted to protect you. He loved you too much to let you be harmed. Realizing his actions were done out of pure love, and not betrayal, a sob bubbles up from your chest.

Years upon years you had spent every night in envy of the other woman who was receiving Spencer's love. Months had been dedicated to wondering what you could've done differently to keep him from leaving. Countless weeks spent in agonizing misery, mourning and yearning for the love of your life.

The two of you cry together, and while you want to be angry because he had lied, you only find yourself feeling overjoyed that he's back; that he wants you back and never fell in love with another. And now knowing that he was still showing his love for you by sending you flowers solidifies that what he's telling you is factual. You only wonder what else he's done that you're unaware of.

Spencer's love runs deep, that much you do know. You're keenly aware that if he went through the trouble of sending you flowers that he was also likely up to other things. But you're okay not knowing, as far as you're concerned, you're just happy he's here.

"I'm so sorry." He cries out again, moving out of his chair and getting on his knees in front of you. You wipe tears from your eyes so you can see him clearly, his glistening eyes beautifully reflecting the light as he envelopes your hands in his.

"I will spend every second of every day earning your love back if that's what it takes. I cannot bear to live this life without you any more, I will do whatever it takes. I love you with every fiber of my being, and I will love you for as many days as there are stars in the sky. As long as the sun rises in the morning and sets every night I will continue to love you. You're the one that completes my soul, you're the one who my heart beats for." Spencer pours his heart out to you as he grips your hands tightly and looks into the depths of your eyes. Your lip trembles as tears continue to stream down your face, unable to contain your overflowing love for the man who kneels in front of you.

Taking your hands back from his, your fingertips graze the soft skin of his cheeks. The familiar warmth brings a smile to your face, one that you never would have thought would come back. You hold the sides of his face, so that you can look at him, really look at him.

His parted lips are wet from tears, his face blushed from crying. Even while he cries on the floor in front of you, he's still the most beautiful man you've ever seen. Unable to hold yourself back, you bring his face to yours and your lips reunite.

It's like the two of you were made for each other, and feeling his lips on yours is like falling back into a familiar rhythm. Spencer stands from the floor and brings you up from your seat, one of his hands wrapping around your waist while the other holds your cheek, bringing you impossibly closer to him.

Your frozen heart warms with a heat long forgotten, and when your lungs burn for air, you pull away and rest your forehead against his. The two of you catch your breath, each unable to keep your hands off of one another. Your eyes meet and you can see the love he holds for you plainly.

This is your Spencer, and he finally came back home. After all these years he finally came back to the place where he left you, the place you had stayed.

-----

"Is that the last one?" You ask, placing books neatly on a shelf. It was a no-brainer that after Spencer came back that you weren't going to move. With him here, there's no place you'd rather be. And so after you had halted your plans, you and Spencer began repiecing your life together. 

Turns out, a lot happens in nine years and the two of you spend every moment possible catching up on lost time together. He tells you about some of the most memorable cases, and you tell him about how you made it through in one piece. You both agreed not to spare each other any details, and have agreed to work through whatever issues arise one step at a time and with honesty. And you made Spencer promise that no matter what happens at work, that the two of you will talk and plan together; there's no more running, except for towards each other.

"I think there's one more." He says, showing you the book in his hand before he slides it in the open spot on the shelf. It's the copy of Gone Girl that you had brought into the BAU. Spencer had told you that your theory ended up being right. They found Mrs. Greene as she was staging her alleged kidnapping getaway. And while it wasn't your favorite book, it has a special place in your heart now; without it there's a chance you and Spencer never would have crossed paths again.

You feel Spencer's hands wrap around your waist from behind as he comes back from the shelf, and he hugs you tightly against him, burying his head in the curve of your neck and gently kissing you. Showing affection at every given opportunity has been Spencer's modus operandi. After having lived so long without you, he never wants to stop touching you, or kissing you, or showing you love in any way that he can. 

Your eyes flutter shut, soaking in all the love he gives you, placing your hands atop of his and just letting yourself be held by him. Even the smallest moments are cherished now, for you understand their true value. 

"I love you." He whispers into your ear before letting you go, and a smile makes its way onto your face while your cheeks heat. Even after nine years he's still able to make you blush like a highschooler with a crush. 

"And I love you more." You say, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek before moving to pack up the empty boxes that are scattered everywhere. 

The two of you stand in the front doorway of your apartment, looking at how everything has come together. Spencer's books are back on their shelves, his blanket is draped over the back of the couch, his clothes back in the dresser, and he's right beside of you. Like it should have always been. Your eyes find one last thing to get rid of alongside the boxes. 

Walking over to the dining room table, you rip the stained tablecloth off and crumple it in your hands. This tablecloth holds too many bad, heartbreaking memories to keep it in the place where you two are rebuilding your lives together. Without a second thought, you toss the tablecloth into the trash and you're relieved. Only a short time ago you dreaded the thought of getting rid of it, but now you can't stand the thought of keeping it.

Now it's as if a new light and a fresh breath of life has been given to the apartment. For so long it was representative of all that you had lost, but now it shows you how much you've gained and how far you've come, both of you. Rays of bright sunshine filter in through the sheer curtains, and you take in a deep breath, soul full, content, and at peace. 

"We really did it." You breathe out quietly. 

"There's only one more thing I can think of that would really make this all come together." Spencer speaks up, and you scrunch your eyebrows together, not seeing anything that you two had forgotten. As you turn to him, you see him kneeling down in front of you on one knee, a small velvet box in his hand. 

Your mouth falls open as he opens the box, revealing the most perfect ring you've ever seen. Spencer has a wide smile on his face and a hopeful glint in his eyes.

"My life will never be complete without you by my side, there's nobody on this Earth that can even begin to compare. When I look inside my heart, I can only see you. May I have the honor to take your hand in marriage, will you make me the luckiest man in the world and marry me?" He asks and you nod your head enthusiastically before he can finish the question. Rushing up from the ground, Spencer envelopes you in a hug, lifting your feet off the ground and spinning you around. 

As your feet make contact with the ground again, he takes your hand and slides the ring onto your finger. It's a perfect fit. Tears of elation well up in your eyes, and you pull Spencer in for a kiss that's full of love, desire, and passion for him. You both smile into the kiss and only break away to confess your undying love for each other. 

"Spencer Reid, you are the love of my life." You say with tears of happiness rolling down your cheek, a wide smile on your face. 

"And future Mrs. Reid, you are the reason I wake up every morning, you are the breath in my lungs, and you are the love of my life." He brings you in for another kiss, and you know that you're going to spend every day for the rest of your lives together. No force of man, nor nature, can drive you apart for the love shared between you two runs deep, your souls intertwined with one another for the rest of eternity. 

Looking down at the shiny gemstone on your finger, you feel the once fragmented pieces of your heart tie themselves back together, the million pieces seemingly repairable after all. With a smile on your face, you can't wait to marry your soulmate and you're hopeful and grateful for the life you will share together. 

- -

Taglist: @spenciesprincess @reedmurdock